#{Even when she betrayed me I stood by her side}{Clarke}

[clarkeysbedchem]

more than just us

george clarke x single mom! reader

summary: you have been dating george for almost a year, and he finally meets your daughter

masterlist | main masterlist

Wednesdays were your thing, every week without fail like clockwork. A bottle of wine, shared laughter over dinner, and you tucked into George’s side as he walked you back hime. A year of soft unsure glances that turned into soft kisses and weeknight rituals, but still, there were parts of your life you kept tight to your chest; like the pastel-painted bedroom down the hall, and the little girl who called you “Mummy.”

Ivy.

She had been your whole world since you were nineteen. And as much as your heart expanded for George and his sleepy voice in the mornings, the dumb jokes that he made just to hear you laugh. You kept him separate from that part of your life. Not because you didn’t want him in it but because you were scared, he’d leave once he saw what came with loving you.

Tonight, your mother had cancelled last minute, leaving you with no sitter and stuck. You were stood in the kitchen, phone pressed to your cheek, apologizing a hundred times over to George with the sound of Ivy’s humming along to her film in the background.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “Can we rain check? Ivy’s staying with me tonight and I don’t want to spring that on you.”

George paused, just for a beat, “No worries at all,” he said, his tone warm and casual like always, “We’ll do next week, yeah?”

You agreed the conversation lingering for a few minutes before you hung up with a tight chest, guilt knotting itself into your ribs. Ivy had peeked around the corner, holding her stuffed bunny upside down.

“Mummy, can we have pizza?”

You smiled brightly, kissed the top of her curls, “Course we can.”

An hour had passed when a knock echoed through the hallway, your eyebrows furrowed looking over at the front door. Ivy was painting at the coffee table, a dot of purple on her nose. You opened the door in your leggings and oversized hoodie, and George was stood there, holding pizza boxes in one hand, a paper bag in the other, and a cautious smile on his lips.

“Thought maybe I could still come over,” he shrugged, “Brought nuggets and smiley faces. For Ivy. Hope that’s alright.”

You blinked, “You, you didn’t have to.”

“Couldn’t go the whole week without seeing you,” he said, his eyes soft, “And I wanted to meet her. If that’s okay.”

You stepped aside before your voice could betray you.

Ivy was shy at first clinging to your leg as George crouched in front of her and introduced himself like a character from her favourite cartoons, even giving her bunny a formal handshake.

“Hello, Mr. Bun,” he introduced himself to the stuffed animal, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Ivy giggled and you felt yourself melt instantly.

Dinner was full of laughter. The three of you eat on the floor, picnic-style, while Ivy letting George pick the film and he picked Princess and the Frog - Ivy’s favourite – as he made a dramatic deal about how lucky he was to be having dinner with ‘two gorgeous girls.’

George let Ivy steal most of his chips and even two slices of his pizza as she sat in front of him slouched into his chest. Then when she dropped ketchup on her pyjamas, he dabbed at it with a napkin and tells her he does that all the time.

You had caught him glancing at you every now and then, always with this quiet, careful softness like he knew what this night meant, and he was trying to hold onto it gently.

By the time the credits rolled, Ivy had curled herself up half on your lap, half on George’s, her thumb in her mouth, eyes fluttering shut.

“I’ll do bath,” you whispered, rising carefully.

George looked up, “Need help?”

You hesitated before nodding, the anxiety in your chest slowly floating away.

Bedtime was gentle. You showed George how to do her hair in loose braids for sleep, and he followed your lead through the bedtime story, adding silly voices to the characters making giggles fall from Ivy as she leaned into his chest.

Then Ivy asked for him to do the last page, and your throat tightened.

He read it gently, slowly before tucked her in like he had always been there.

“Night-night, Ivy,” he murmured, “Sleep tight, superstar.”

She reached out and her palm sprawled out on his cheek, “Night-night, George.”

You stood in the hallway after, staring at him as he carried about his night like he had been in this situation before and it was like you were seeing him for the first time.

You were back on the sofa, the house finally quiet, nestled into him. Your head on his chest, his hand rubbing small circles on your back, the flicker of the lamp low and warm casting shadows over the walls.

“You’re amazing with her,” you whispered, not moving your head scared to look him in the eyes.

George tilted his head down, resting his cheek against your hair, “She’s brilliant. Like you.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, “I didn’t let you meet her sooner because I was scared. Scared that you’d run and I’d have to explain to her where you had gone, scared that if you knew what this was actually like, you’d give up.”

He was quiet for a moment, then shifted so he could look at you properly, “Ivy’s part of you,” he said, “How could I ever run from that?”

Your breath hitched tears collecting at your waterline as you took a deep breath.

“I just... no one’s ever really stuck around for both of us,” you admitted, voice cracking, “They say they care about me, but it’s always too much, too complicated once they realise it’s not just me.”

George’s thumb brushed under your eye, catching a tear you didn’t realise had fallen.

“I’m not them,” he said gently, “I’m here. For you, and for Ivy. I don’t care if it’s messy or complicated, I just care that it’s real. And this,” he kissed your forehead, “is real.”

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, feeling something inside your chest release. The tension of four years of being enough for Ivy, but never enough for someone else leaving your thoughts.

“I think she really liked you,” you murmured.

George chuckled, “Yeah?”

“She made you a friend in her bunny club. That’s a big deal.”

He grinned, “That means I made the inner circle. Better not mess it up then.”

You laughed, light and full for the first time in ages.

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, your daughter sleeping peacefully down the hall, you realised something simple and powerful: You weren’t alone anymore.

taglist: @jamiekluivert @reidyourpalms @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @kiyoomology @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @madforgeorge @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st

a/n: this based on a dream i had btw and i put in my notes app and completely forgot abt it

[caitified]

thanksgiving

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none

thanksgiving with caitlin was something you’d been looking forward to for weeks. it was your first time hosting together in your shared apartment in indianapolis, and caitlin was determined to make it perfect.

you stood in the kitchen, focused on making sure the turkey was carved just right when you felt a familiar presence behind you. caitlin’s arms snaked around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder.

“need some help?” she asked softly, her warm breath tickling your ear.

“you’re supposed to be entertaining your family,” you replied with a smirk, leaning back slightly into her embrace.

“they’re fine,” she said, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “besides, i missed you.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. before you could say anything more, caitlin’s brother strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrow raised at the two of you.

“okay, lovebirds, save it for later,” he teased, grabbing a drink from the counter.

caitlin turned to face her, not letting go of you. “jealous much?” she shot back with a grin.

“hardly,” he replied, but the amused look on his face betrayed his sarcasm. he walked back out to the living room, shaking his head.

caitlin kissed your temple before finally pulling away. “i’ll let you finish. but don’t take too long—i’m not sharing you for the whole night.”

you laughed as she disappeared into the other room, and after a few more minutes, you emerged from the kitchen with the turkey, setting it down in the center of the table. everyone cheered as caitlin helped guide you to your seat beside her, sneaking a quick kiss on your cheek as you sat down.

dinner was lively and full of stories, many of them from caitlin’s time at iowa. her dad was in the middle of telling a particularly embarrassing story from her childhood when caitlin reached under the table, lacing her fingers with yours. she leaned in close, her voice low enough for only you to hear.

“can you believe this? they always gang up on me during the holidays,” she whispered, her mock-annoyed expression making you stifle a laugh.

“you love it,” you teased, squeezing her hand.

“maybe,” she admitted, grinning. “but only because you’re here to make it bearable.”

you shook your head at her dramatics but couldn’t help feeling a warmth spread through your chest. moments like these, where caitlin’s playful charm was on full display, made you fall for her even more.

after dinner, while the others migrated to the couch to watch football, you stayed behind in the kitchen to start cleaning up. caitlin joined you soon after, rolling up her sleeves and grabbing a dish towel.

“you don’t have to help,” you said as she started drying dishes.

“i want to,” she replied, glancing at you with that soft smile she reserved just for you.

the two of you worked in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of conversation and laughter from the living room serving as a backdrop. then caitlin broke the quiet.

“you know,” she said, leaning against the counter once the dishes were done. “i think this might be my favorite thanksgiving ever.”

“why’s that?” you asked, turning to face her.

she stepped closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “because it’s the first one with you.”

her words made your heart race, and before you could respond, she cupped your face in her hands, kissing you softly. it was a moment of quiet intimacy amid the chaos of the holiday, a reminder of how much caitlin meant to you—and how much you meant to her.

“i love you,” she said when she pulled back, her forehead resting against yours.

“i love you, too,” you whispered, smiling up at her.

and as the night went on, surrounded by love and laughter, you couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the holiday than by caitlin’s side.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: so, Maddie had still been alive. despite the happy news, there'd been a lot to digest. including and not limited to the tree Ajay had shown Wally, the barrier, and whether or not anyone could've gotten Mina to talk.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.23

A solemn, almost betrayed silence fell over the ghosts. Apart from Wally, that was, who'd already had a lesson on In Betweens and had accepted your theory about how not dead Maddie was. Even Maddie seemed reluctant to believe you, face pinching and posture shrinking.

"I don't understand." She whispered as she gazed hard at your outstretched hand. "What do you—I'm dead." She staggered back, out from under Wally's touch which resulted in you no longer being able to see her.

Talking to the air, you urged, "Please, Maddie, I'll explain, just...I need you to take my hand. You have to invite me in." You had no clue if she was still within reach, but you kept your hand up, desperate for her to open the door to her In Between and allow you in.

Wally took over, sensing your distress, "Mads, listen to her. She knows what she's talking about."

"Oh, and you know that after one day?" Rhonda sniped, giving Wally a nasty look. You didn't think it was because of you and Wally. It felt more general; probably a reaction to Maddie's aliveness. And after being dead and trapped in the place she'd been killed, no hope of escape for sixty years, you couldn't blame her.

Wally leveled Rhonda with a stern expression, "Yeah. I do." He shifted his gaze to where you assumed Maddie stood, softening, "Please, just try it." After a short beat, "What do you have to lose?" Another beat. Wally asked you, "Does she have to say anything?"

"She just has to vocalize that she's inviting me in." You said, hopeful.

He gave you a reassuring smile and nod, squeezed your waist before dropping his hand and stepping back. You immediately missed his warmth. The hard line of his body against your side. But that was soon enough rectified when you felt a delicate weight in your hand. Looking down, you saw Maddie's hand, up to her arm, to her shoulder, to her eyes where tears gathered.

"I invite you in." She said and her voice was so quiet you barely heard the words.

It didn't matter, your soul heard them. The Awen and the earth heard them. A slight tickling sensation zipped under your skin and settled in your palm where you and Maddie were connected. And that was it.

"Is...that it?" Ajay wondered, coming closer to inspect both you and Maddie, seeming somewhat let down by the lack of thunder and lightning. "That wasn't as...magical as I thought it was going to be."

Your face flattened, "It's not magic, it's connectedness." Gentler, to Maddie, "You can let go," and you opened your fingers.

She didn't. She tightened her grip and stared at you in a mixture of fear and hope. "How do you know I'm not dead?"

"Because I couldn't see you."

"So? Simon can't see us." Rhonda pointed out, appearing at Ajay's side as Charley came around and stood beside Maddie.

"But he can see her." You said, "Because they have a soul-tie." At everyone—but Wally's—perplexed looks, you expounded, "I can see dead people. I can't see alive people who Travel out of their bodies unless I share blood or a soul-tie with them."

"I'm not dead." Maddie murmured, stumbling back and collapsing to the ground on her ass. She stayed like that, gazing into the distance, completely silent for a long moment before she gasped in a thick breath and fell back, hands over her face. "I'm alive," She laughed wetly, and you weren't sure what to do.

Charley did. He went to her, plopped down beside her and gave her a small smile. As much as it seemed he wanted to sound positive, his tone was somber when he said, "You're alive."

You allowed them a moment to sit with it. Mostly for Maddie's sake. But you had something to say, something they needed to hear or you and they would all be in trouble.

"Guys. Look." You bit your lip, cast about warily for a moment as you gathered the confidence to set the one rule you needed followed. "I'm sorry I never tried to help before. I've known about you since I started here. So did my sister, my mom, my grandmother...my whole family." A tense yet tentative beat, "I should've tried to help sooner."

"But you didn't." Rhonda said unkindly, hip cocked and lips pursed.

You stared at the ground. Took a deep breath in, a sharp breath out, "No. I didn't. Because we're all bound to the same rule. And if anyone finds out that I'm doing this," You indicated to the situation in general, "My great-aunt or my mother will step in and...and you'll all be gone. And not the warm, fuzzy, go-into-the-light gone."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

In the loaded wake of your statement, Wally couldn't stand not touching you anymore. He shuffled forward and pulled you close, hands wandering down your back before he wrapped his arms securely around you.

He scanned his friends' faces. The assortment of reactions to the news of Maddie's situation as well as the unasked question you needed everyone to answer.

Rhonda was tight-jawed and struggling. Charley was lost in thought. Ajay was...Ajay. Controlled and reserved and taking it all in stride.

What broke the silence was Rhonda's biting, "Fine. I won't say anything. It's not like we aren't already keeping secrets." Simon, she didn't have to clarify. Another uncomfortable stretch of silence as Ajay and Charley nodded in agreement, then Rhonda said, "So cherrypop is alive," her bitterness blatant beneath the pragmatic tone she used. "Now what? Do you escort her out of here and back to her body?"

"I wish it was that easy." You admitted, brows furrowing. Wally placed a kiss to your hair and then repositioned so he was at your back, his hands on your hips. "Something is keeping you guys stuck here. The fact that you supposedly can't leave school grounds isn't normal. As ghosts, you should have a lot more agency than that. Like, way more than the living."

"And the plot thickens..." Rhonda muttered, the muscles in her jaw ticking as she ground her molars.

Charley and Maddie wore identical expressions of alarm. Recovering quicker, Maddie asked, "You're saying that someone is trapping ghosts here on purpose?"

"Seems that way, yeah."

"What about Mr. Anderson?" Wally could see the gears turning in Maddie's head, "Could he have done this somehow?"

"He wasn't around until ten years ago," Wally answered her, repeating what you'd said that morning, "He might've just taken advantage of the situation."

You nodded to confirm, "Simon and I definitely think he's got something to do with how Maddie was forced out of her body in the first place." Looking at Maddie, you said, "Simon told me about the phone call and the money in the supply closet. I'd hoped he'd be able to get something out of Anderson's phone but—"

"He stole Mr. Anderson's phone?" Maddie gawped, "Is that why the cops took him?"

"Possibly," You replied, "And now they're not even looking at Anderson because they think Simon had something to do with your disappearance."

Maddie's temper flared, "But he didn't!"

"I know that and you know that, which is why I'm here. We have to find something that'll make the cops take Anderson in."

"Everyone here in favor of checking the theater?" Wally asked since you'd been hellbent on going there when you'd arrived, and Maddie had done her own recon earlier. "He went nuts on babygirl last night when she and I were in there."

Rhonda studied Wally briefly, her dark eyes drilling into him, "So that's where you went after supper."

"Yeah," Wally cleared his throat, "We wanted to talk about Maddie and stuff." He could feel the blush on his cheeks, pressed his lips together sheepishly and avoided Rhonda's gaze.

Rhonda gave Wally a look of sardonic glee, "You didn't get a lot of talking done, did you?"

"Shut up." Wally grumbled while Charley unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh behind his fist. Attempting to bring the focus back to what was important, Wally said, "So. Theater? Yes, no?"

Maddie sighed as she got to her feet, "I tried talking to Mina. She wasn't exactly a fountain of information, but I found this on the floor. I was hoping to ask her about it..." She fished something out of her back pocket and handed it to you.

The Blue Devils patch Maddie had shown him, Rhonda, and Charley just before the connection had stolen Wally away. You inspected it, chuckling, "Wow. I didn't think these were still around."

"You know what it is?" Maddie asked, "Because I didn't until tonight."

"Ora was a Blue Devil," Ajay said as if lost in thought, staring at the patch. "She played tuba."

"It's crazy that you know that." You said wistfully through an amused smile. To the group, "Yeah, she was in the band. She still has her uniform and everything."

Maddie mumbled, "I keep forgetting she's, like, twenty years older than you."

"Seventeen," You corrected, and then, "She could've easily ended up being one of the bus crash kids, but she was sick that day. I wasn't even born, so I don't know much, but the way Rory tells it she got food poisoning from the cafeteria lunch the day before. Best worst day of her life."

"Jesus Christ," It fell out of Wally's mouth before he could stop it, stunned that your sister had almost wound up a ghost like the rest of them. Would she have been a looper, too? Or would she have been the only one of the bunch to snap out of it?

Fuck, it wasn't worth thinking about, Wally reprimanded himself, his hands unconsciously slipping under your sweater to rest skin-to-skin on your waist.

"I know," You mused, sober, "If she hadn't eaten the fish sticks, she'd be dead."

"It was on the floor in the theater." Maddie said, "It might be connected to why Mr. Anderson didn't want you in there. Don't ask how, but I know it means something and I know Mina has the answers."

Wally eyed Ajay, wasn't sure if he should out Ajay and Mina's relationship for the sake of getting Mina to talk. Ajay returned Wally's stare with a minute shrug.

"Mina won't listen to me, man." He said aloud, drawing everyone's attention to him. "Girl will take a bribe, though."

Charley squinted at Ajay, "Why would or wouldn't she listen to you?"

"They're dating. Or something." Wally explained.

Both Rhonda and Charley paused, glanced at each other then back to Ajay and demanded in unison, "How does that work?"

"That's what I wanna know!" Wally pointed imploringly at Ajay with his hand.

Ajay raised a brow at Charley, "Yeah, because you don't make a suspicious number of late night visits to the Art room..."

Charley blushed crimson. Rhonda panned her head to fix him with an impressed smirk. Wally pouted because, "Is everyone here hooking up and I don't know about it?"

"Bernie and I are friends, you know." Ajay said, insinuating something Wally couldn't quite parse out.

"That's amazing. Say a word and I'll find a way to end you." Rhonda gave him a malicious smile.

Ajay didn't utter another word. Just stood there with a smug, secretive smile on his face. From below, your giggle made Wally grin, and he found himself squishing you in a backwards hug and attacking your face with kisses. Just because.

"Tell me you and Mina aren't that gross," Charley groaned to Ajay.

"I can neither confirm nor deny."

Maddie cast about and said, "Guys, can we please get back to helping Simon?" Everyone settled to listen to her. "I have an idea."

You stared at Maddie, long and hard, and then offered, "Alright, tell me what you need to get Mina to talk, Mads, and I'm on it."

Filled with determination, Maddie said, "We need to find some flowers."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You felt a lot better now that there was a plan in place. Given that Nanna had stored a fair amount of stock from the family flower shop at home, you'd put yourself in charge of arranging the bouquet for Mina. You'd come to school at fucked o'clock in the morning—as early as you were allowed to be there. Mina would divulge what she knew. You would take that information to the appropriate authority and then, bing bang boom, Simon would be free and Mr. Anderson would be arrested.

Fingers crossed.

You'd text Xavier when you got home later and tell him not to bother getting up early. It was just past 1AM, you saw when you checked your phone, and he was definitely still up, Xavier a bit of an insomniac in times of stress.

"Great, now that that's settled," Rhonda began in that same prickly tone, "Can we talk about why Goldilocks can't get back into her body because we're trapped?"

You peeked up at Wally, wanted to see if he was comfortable with you explaining, but he was already looking at Ajay. Shifting your gaze, you noticed Ajay steeling himself. One breath, two, eyes closed and then opened. Obviously not one who enjoyed being the center of attention.

Eventually, he said, "About that. There's something I want you guys to see."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Ajay was ahead of you; Rhonda, Charley, and Maddie brought up the rear, leaving you and Wally to walk together in the middle.

"I thought I was going to have a heart attack," He admitted, slinging his arm around your shoulders and pressing a tender kiss into your hair. Butterflies erupted in your belly, the casual affection he'd been doting on you during and since the rooftop making you swoon, pleasantly dizzy from it. "I thought Rhonda was going to push me off the roof."

"If she did, I'd push her," You promised, cheeks pinking as you regarded him. Wally looked particularly handsome in the moonlight, his features striking. Your pulse quickened as you soaked him in, those sweet-sultry eyes blinking at you when he panned his head to grin down at you. "I've got your back," You finished, tongue suddenly too big for your mouth.

Ajay stopped a few meters in front of a tree you recognized as one of several that students carved their initials into. It was unspectacular, normal; bushy leaves in autumn colors, and twisty with knots and thick roots. The others caught up eventually, Charley marching a couple more steps ahead of Ajay before Ajay caught him by the back of his jacket.

"Don't want you to end up back in the cafeteria," Ajay said, pulling Charley back to a safe distance.

So, this was the almighty barrier Wally had mentioned. At least, a segment of it. You produced your phone from the pocket of your sweater, turned on the flashlight, and carefully neared the tree. Mindfully, you picked your way around the bottom of the tree, still managed to stumble and trip here and there where the roots were difficult to see.

Nothing stood out to you; some hearts, some graduating years, even a few profanities and one clumsy dick with a crudely marked phone number beneath it. Ordinary stuff that most high schoolers thought was hilarious or edgy.

Returning to the starting point, you placed your hand on the trunk, ridges rough under your palm. Closing your eyes, you focused on your breath, deep and even inhales and exhales as you attempted to connect to whatever energy might be hidden within the tree's heartwood.

You'd never tried to feel out another person's connectedness before. Nanna had taught you years ago, before Aiden was even born, but you'd never had a reason to do it.

You could sense the spectral energy of the ghosts behind you, a buoyant, antigravitational vibration. You felt something else ahead of you, barely a hum, as if caged within a lead box—blurry and distant and altogether difficult to pinpoint. In tandem ghost and human. Perhaps another ghost wandering the woods, following a living person who was taking a shortcut...

Then, quite suddenly, a piercing thrust of malicious, vantablack energy made itself known, shoving into you through your palm and sending you stumbling back over the raised roots. Your heel caught and you landed hard, phone falling face-down in the dirt.

"Are you okay?!" Charley called, arms braced against Wally who'd clearly tried to dash forward to your rescue, likely forgetting that he'd be transported back to the football field.

"Babe!?"

You raised a thumbs up and took a moment to let the adrenaline settle. "Fine," You assured, "Probably gonna bruise nasty, but nothing I can't handle." You heaved yourself into a sitting position, eyes scanning up the tree, following the cone of light from your phone to just above the faintest part of its reach. Frowning, you rolled yourself forward onto hands and knees, grabbed your phone and held it up to bring more light to a specific portion of the tree.

"No. Fucking. Way." You gawked.

"What is it?" Rhonda wanted to know, staring at you with a hard expression before glancing between the others. They all shared her question, each taking tiny, measured steps forward.

"It's...it looks like a ritual mark." You told them because, above all the depravity and memory-making, a strange symbol was etched into the bark, the cambium beneath blackened with age. A vertical line that bisected an unsymmetrical diamond with an X slashed through it. You took a picture of it, examined it on your phone as you rejoined the others. The symbol was as familiar as it wasn't; something in its nature niggled at the back of your mind.

In the years before everything had gone to shit, Ginny had spent countless afternoons delighting you with lessons on the craft. She'd taught you about the flora and fauna that harbored ancient energy; what talismans actually benefited the wearer and what were cheap, souvenir shop gimmicks. You'd enjoyed two whole days listening to her lilt the runic alphabet—fehu, uruz, thurisaz, and so on.

The symbol in the tree appeared to be a personal representation of a ritual rune, unlike any you'd seen before; its design unique to the individual and whatever purpose they'd needed it to serve.

"The barrier feels weakest here," Ajay said, "I was hoping you could find a way to break it."

You hummed in acknowledgment, completely transfixed as you continued to search your memory for the runes Ginny had shown you. "Yeah..." And then, when you'd processed what Ajay had said, "No. Even though it feels weaker, it isn't. The energy is just stretched outward."

"What does the mark mean?" Wally asked, arm already outstretched for you to tuck yourself under. An invitation your body instinctively accepted before your brain caught up to how you'd slid into Wally's space like you were meant to be there.

You lifted your phone to show him the screen, "It looks like someone just hacked random runes together to make their own, but..." Skirting your attention to Ajay, "I bet there are other places around the school where the barrier feels different, too?"

"Four others." Ajay nodded.

"About equidistant apart?"

"That sounds about right, yeah."

Maddie ventured closer, "What does it mean?"

A shiver ran down your spine as you shifted your gaze back to the tree, the weight of the truth looming in the deep, eerie blackness behind it. "It means this was planned."

At that precise moment, a twig snapped in the shadows. Wally repositioned himself, shoving you behind him so he could put himself between you and whatever was out there. The others were on-guard around you as well, the circle they'd stood in shrinking as a figure appeared from the darkness.

You held your breath, heart racing, and took an instinctive step back. Wally's form blocked you from seeing who it was, but your gut screamed at you to run run run, get out, leave, run, that sense of ghost-human energy shuddering through your veins.

You were ready to submit to the feeling only for, "Oh, hey!" a familiar voice split through the night, god dammit, seriously?!

"Who is that?" Charley inquired of the group at large.

Quickly, you shoved your phone back into your pocket, moving around Wally in as natural a manner as possible to call out, "What are you doing here, Dave?"

Dave emerged from the shadows, blond hair and bright white teeth catching the distant lamplight. He seemed momentarily confused, as if not quite sure where he was, looking about him. But the moment his eyes landed on you, he smiled again.

His expression turned to one of concern, then startled as he tripped over a raised root, looked about himself, shook himself off, and continued toward you. Up close, you could see his eyes were strained at the corners, his smile a little too tight, a thin film of sweat on his brow. Dave didn't look so good, the most unsteady you'd ever seen him.

Despite predicting what was about to happen, you weren't ready for Dave to haul you into a friends-and-family hug, his arms pinning your elbows to your sides and wringing you hard enough to expel the air from your lungs.

"You snuck out," And was he telling you that? His tone grated against your ear. "I've been looking for you."

"Well, here I am," You coughed with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. When the hell had Dave started to give a shit about your whereabouts? Your own mother didn't care as long as you brought home good grades and the potential of a bright future.

You wriggled out of his embrace, putting some necessary distance between you and him as he motioned to usher you to his car, "I parked down the street. Come on, let's get you home."

"I'm fine, Dave." You said, really, really fighting not to sound as unpleasant as Aurora nagged that you always did when speaking to him.

You wanted to argue, to stay and have Ajay show you the other points where the barrier's intensity was altered, however, Dave seemed insistent on getting you and him out of there. Covertly, you glanced at Wally, wordlessly asking for his input.

"It's okay, baby, we can show you the rest tomorrow morning." He said, and the others followed, murmuring their reassurance at separate intervals. All but Rhonda, who peered intently into the darkness where Dave had materialized.

"We've totally got this," She added belatedly, distant, distracted, but you took it for the endorsement of your surrender that it was and resigned yourself to trailing Dave to his car.

A scant step or two from the school property line, you heard footsteps behind you. Dave was far enough ahead, nattering on about work and sleep schedules and circadian rhythms, that you risked turning to see who it was.

Wally jogged up to you, all cheeky smirk and boyish charm, and grabbed you by the arm, abruptly drawing you flush against him and, in a flash, delivering a deep, heated kiss to your lips. His large hand cradled your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek, as he teased your bottom lip with his teeth. A streak of want burned through you, coiling in your belly. A whimper escaped you that Wally swallowed greedily and you could feel the shape of his smirk against your mouth.

As soon as it had begun, it was over. A one-and-done moment. So fast that by the time Dave noticed you weren't at his back, Wally had already detached from you, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. "Just wanted to say goodnight properly," He chuckled, licking his lips as if to savor your taste.

You hated him just a little bit because you couldn't say anything back. Couldn't tease him or tell him how much you wanted more; couldn't yank him into another searing kiss and have him lay you down in the grass; couldn't do anything except—

"Let's go, champ!" Dave called with his patented Real Estate smile, jingling his keys to signal for you to come. Like a dog. Your faced pinched in bitterness, an expression Wally seemed to find endearing because he chuckled and shook his head fondly.

"Better go, baby, or he might try to hug you again."

"Oh my god, I hate him so much." You grumbled under your breath and Wally all but cackled as he retreated toward the school, catching up with the others as they filed through the door.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

In the darkness, meters from the tree you'd been inspecting only minutes ago, a girl wearing your friend's face scowled down at a hand that didn't belong to her, biting her tongue as she pulled one of the loose fingernails from its bed.

That idiot had come out of nowhere and the other was still nearby. As much as she needed to get back into the school, tonight wasn't the night.

💀___________________________

PART TWENTY-TWO - PART TWENTY-FOUR

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[stoptellinglieslois]

The final Act of love fair Act 41

Vampire fanfiction Clark Kent human x Richard Grayson vampire no capes or tights but fangs and might.

Clark pov

I threw the tupperwear full of cookies in the trash can and I decided to act fast on leaving the village. "How will you leave in the middle of the day with Master Richard I can't guarantee anything he may burn up in his coffin." Alfred warned me.

I lost my appetite we needed to leave now this village was no longer our place to start anew.

I moved around the house and started for the stairs ending up in my room taking out my suitcase and packing everything in sight. Alfred following behind me. "How will you leave Master Clark without any of these creatures knowing your departure they have been spying on you since you got here maybe even before you got here. I can try my best to do a vanishing spell." Alfred thought about looking away from me. As he was talking I was putting things together to leave this place with Richard.

"Alfred should I confront her at the pub She may be a good person and does not want to harm us."

"Or maybe she could not be on your side Master Clark we could never be too sure."

"I have this." And I showed him my ring of Zeus.

"So Master Richard gave the Christmas gift he got so many moons ago. That thing is potent and tricky I am not sure it will work for a problem such as this but if you are confident enough to use it then fine." He seemed so rushed like he is thinking on his feet that whatever happened moments ago when Donna visit started to push me out of here.

"I would advise you when you leave we leave together I need to be there with you." Alfred warned.

Later on that evening.

Alfred drove us to the pub and the weather was oddly nice out today. I would hope whatever I came up with at the house with Alfred would come to pass here.

We are almost there so many people are circulating this late in the afternoon. the sun is descending but not fast enough for Richard we put him in the back of the blue van.

"I don't like that there are a lot of people out today like this."

"It's usually quiet out here not a lot of trafficking."

"Let's go in." The pub was full this afternoon I didn't like what I was feeling either when me and Alfred stepped in the whole pub went quiet.

We moved to the bar and sat where the barkeep was. The whole bar watched us as we sat there. "All he wants is to talk to you young Clark." Theresa the girl we saw that works at the small store stood up and announced it to the whole pub.

The fact that she knew the drama was all the more why I couldn't come here in the first place this was a trap and I was stuck here and dragging poor Alfred along with me.

I got up and so did Alfred Donna came out of the door to the one beside the bar. "I don't want any trouble boys I mean you no harm." She was trying to make peace as she approached us.

We backed away from her. "Donna I should have known you were spying for him." I told her I was betrayed in so many levels but I needed to get out of here.

I needed to get to Richard and drive off I was surrounded though that's when Alfred made everyone fall asleep with a strange powder. "Cover your nose and let's go." All in the pub fell asleep if they were standing they fell to their feet if they were sitting down their heads fell on the table asleep.

We ran out and that's when the worst thing I witnessed happened right in front of me, Vampires they were burning smoke coming off of them but they are taking my Richard the casket had light smoke coming out of it.

I ran towards them trying to take Richard but two vampires coming out of nowhere also started burning up fire and smoke coming out of all ends of them.

What could I do I mean I had no other idea how to help him one of them pushed me on the cold ground.

I tried getting up and the vampire stepped on my chest heavy footed.

That's when a huge werewolf attacked the vampire whose foot was on my chest and got toppled on the floor.

As i looked around there were werewolves directed towards the vampires. I ran to the casket that is still smoking and the sun didn't go down just yet.

I dragged the casket to the van desperately on the floor and a vampire came out of no where blocking my path.

It's Thor I am in electric shock of seeing him, Around my leg, a big black wolf nudged my leg and the wolves gathering around him it is a distraction, It is for me to move now and quickly.

I dragged the casket onto the van it is heavy as hell but I made it to the back of the van and I shut the back doors of the van.

As the werewolves surround Thor he is watching me despite him being surrounded with wolves. Watching me wasn't enraged or anything just watched me I wasn't sure about that at all about that look.

A big black wolf made himself known in front of me he growled at me I needed to move and now. The wolf persuaded me rounding the van I didn't run I just slowly walked around opened the van door and entered by the passenger door as the wolf howled loud and proud.

I was scared out of my mind from the howl he was the only one howling. and I thought to myself this is Bruce I've seen him before.

"Let's leave here we don't need to be in this heat and I don't want Thor following us." Alfred announced out of nowhere on the driver side starting the engine.

I was hypnotised by Bruce as he watched me fiercely we rolled out of there slowly as I watched a sea of wolves surrounding the pub.

Bruce the wolf followed the van running after it and howling.

The sun went down and the moon rose and the casket came to life once more.

The end

Thank you for reading Love fair

[caradecema]

The Ghost And The Boy Scout

PART: 4

SUMMARY: Ghost isn’t part of the League—just a flirty mystery who helps when she feels like it, especially if Superman’s around. Only Wonder Woman know who she really is. Batman? Annoyed and suspicious.

When her dangerous past catches up, Ghost must drop the act, reveal her identity, and protect the League from what’s coming. Somewhere between shadow-traveling and saving lives, she might just steal Superman’s heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A week passed in a strange, teasing haze. The world kept spinning, threats kept rising and falling, and yet somehow—somehow—Ghost still found her way into the Watchtower like a shadow slipping through cracks.

No warning. No invitation.

She simply appeared that afternoon—curled in the co-pilot chair beside Superman in the monitoring bay, one leg crossed over the other, a slow smile tugging at her lips as her fingers toyed with the edge of his cape.

"You know," she drawled softly, eyes gleaming beneath her hood, "this shade of red really does something for me."

Superman straightened in his chair, jaw tight, trying—trying—to look unaffected. "Ghost..."

"Clark," she cooed under her breath, voice just low enough that only his super-hearing could catch it, "I missed you."

He sighed, the faintest blush creeping up his neck. "You were here yesterday."

"And yet, so long ago," she purred, nudging her shoulder against his. "Did you miss me too?"

He looked at her sidelong. "You're insufferable."

"You love it."

He didn't respond, but the curve of his mouth betrayed him.

Across the room, Batman stood by the holo-table, tension coiling through his shoulders like steel wire. He didn't even look at her—he didn't need to. His voice was sharp as ever.

"Every time we arrive, the signal's already gone. Like whatever it is wants us chasing our tails."

Diana stood beside him, arms crossed, gaze flicking briefly between the hologram and Ghost. She said nothing, but she knew. She always did.

"It's fast," Bruce continued, "and strong. Stronger than any meta-human I've tracked in the last year. And it's playing games."

Ghost, sprawled against Superman's side like a satisfied cat, barely flicked her gaze toward the projection. "Sounds like a you problem."

Bruce's jaw flexed.

Clark, trying not to smile, murmured low enough for only her to hear, "You could try helping."

Ghost smirked, brushing invisible lint from his shoulder. "What's the fun in being predictable?"

Then her voice dropped to a tone only he could catch—soft, quiet, all amusement gone.

"Also, just so you know... your girlfriend's been rather stalkerish lately."

Clark blinked. "What?"

"Lois," Ghost murmured. "She's been seen twice near my penthouse. And I don't think she's there for fashion tips."

He looked at her with mild alarm, already opening his mouth, but—

"I'm fine, Boy Scout," she added quickly, voice light again. "I just thought it was funny. She doesn't even live near me."

Before he could say more, before Clark could say that Lois was nothing but a coworker, Bruce cut in sharply. "We tracked the signal again this morning. Same pattern. Same fade. If we don't get ahead of it, we'll be chasing ghosts for another month."

Ghost grinned at the choice of words, not moving from Superman's side as if she belonged there—like the base itself had made room for her.

"I am right here," she said lazily.

Bruce didn't respond. But the muscle in his jaw ticked harder.

And all Clark could think—behind the cape, behind the control—was that he really, really liked having her around.

Ghost didn't stop touching him.

Her fingers played at the edge of Superman's cape, tracing the stitching. She leaned into his shoulder with that smug, lazy smile—like she was exactly where she wanted to be. Every now and then, she tilted her face just enough to whisper something that made Clark go stiff with blush and clear his throat louder than necessary.

Batman's glare had evolved into something just shy of murder.

"We're trying to conduct an analysis," Bruce snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut metal, "not host a flirtatious lounge act."

"Aw, don't be jealous, Bat," Ghost murmured, barely glancing his way, eyes still on Clark. "I'm sure someone out there finds brooding sexy."

"I'm not jealous," Bruce growled. "I'm trying to solve a case."

"And I'm multi-tasking," she grinned, head resting on Clark's shoulder now. "You know, some of us can do more than glower and monologue."

Bruce opened his mouth to snap again, but something stopped him. A glint in his eye. That shift in his posture that said I know something you don't.

He didn't look at her as he said it. "We found trace elements during the last signal disruption."

Ghost gave a bored yawn, not moving from Clark. "Mm-hmm. Another dead end?"

"This wasn't ordinary residue," Batman said evenly. "It was gold dust."

Clark felt her freeze.

It was subtle. Barely there. But he noticed it immediately—the way her fingers stopped moving, how her breath hitched just a fraction. Her shadows, always moving like lazy smoke, recoiled slightly, as if they too had heard something that disturbed them.

Then slowly, she peeled herself away from Clark, her expression shifting from playful to cold focus.

"What did you say?" Her voice dropped, all warmth gone.

Bruce watched her closely now. "Gold dust. Microscopic. Unnatural. It was left behind on the concrete and embedded in a few security cameras. What do you know?"

Ghost didn't answer right away. She looked to Diana, and Diana, who had been watching her this whole time, straightened.

"May I see it?" Ghost asked, tone clipped.

Bruce hesitated, clearly still debating how much he trusted her—but something in the way she stood now, all that eerie calm melted into something ancient and serious, made him relent. He pressed a few buttons on the console, and a holographic rendering of the gold dust shimmered above the table.

Ghost stepped forward. Studied it.

Then muttered something under her breath in Ancient Greek that only Diana—and maybe Clark—caught.

"Χρυσόσκονη. Όχι πάλι..."

"Ghost—" Clark started, brows knitting.

But she was already turning away.

She met Diana's eyes. And something passed between them. A silent conversation only old souls could share.

Without a word, she shadow-traveled. One blink—gone in a whirl of black smoke.

The room fell silent.

"Where did she go?" Flash asked, blinking.

Diana stepped away from the console without a word, turning toward the exit.

"Diana?" Clark said.

She paused only briefly. "She went to handle something old. And dangerous."

And then she, too, was gone.

Clark stared at the gold dust, heart hammering.

Whatever this was... it wasn't just some random anomaly anymore.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Themyscira was quiet—too quiet for May's liking. The wind drifted lazily across the pale sands, scented with salt and blooming lavender, but it didn't help her mood one bit.

She paced by the marble balcony, tossing her arms in the air like a demigod possessed.

"Seventeen, Diana. Seventeen. I thought I was done with this goddamn war nonsense! I literally saved the world twice. Isn't that the retirement plan? Kill a Titan, destroy a cursed army, get a penthouse, invest in wine, flirt with Superman until he combusts—that was the dream!"

Diana sat calmly on a curved bench carved into the stone, a goblet of honeyed wine in hand, her expression amused but sympathetic.

"You know," she said, lifting a brow, "once you save mankind twice before the age of twenty and the gods look down and decide you're worthy of immortality, I would think 'normal' was no longer on the table."

May groaned and dropped onto the stone next to her, shoulders slumping. "Not helping, Diana."

"I'm not trying to help," Diana smirked, offering her the goblet.

May took it with a glare but drank anyway. "I swear, if this is another one of my grandfather's stupid games, I'm going to drag his crusty old bones out of the Underworld myself and shake him."

"You could," Diana offered. "You have the authority."

"Don't tempt me," she muttered. "I already got golden ichor on my damn boots and some invisible stalker who leaves Olympus-flavored glitter trails for Batman to follow."

Diana stifled a laugh.

"I just want a vacation. Is that so much to ask?" May took another swig of the wine, then stared out at the sea. "Do you think this thing... whatever it is... is another demigod?"

"Possibly." Diana leaned back, brow furrowed now. "Or worse. It could be something twisted from the old wars. Something that learned how to hide."

"Something papi might've 'accidentally' let slip through a crack in Tartarus while trimming his beard," May muttered.

Diana hummed. "Wouldn't be the first time."

May sighed. "If I have to fight another reanimated hero from the Trojan War, I'm going to scream."

Diana rested a hand on hers. "Then we scream together."

May cracked a small grin, her shoulders finally easing. "Thanks, Princess."

"Anytime, Ghost."

Then May paused, tapping her fingers on the goblet. "Still. If it's another cousin out for revenge or some weird demigod-kid-turned-wraith with a god complex, I'm sending it straight to Metropolis first."

Diana arched a brow. "Why?"

"Because Clark's face when I drop something immortal in his lap? Priceless."

Diana laughed, raising her glass. "To chaos?"

"To chaos," May grinned, clinking hers against it. "And to keeping Bruce guessing."

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The wind howled for a moment in the stillness outside Clark's farmhouse before the shadows curled inward like black smoke being sucked into a pinpoint. And then—thud—May stumbled out of the darkness and onto Clark's front porch.

He opened the door before she even knocked.

"May?"

"C'laaaaark!" Her voice was bright, a little too bright, and she nearly tripped over the welcome mat before launching herself into his chest.

He caught her with ease, strong arms circling instinctively around her waist as she melted into him like she belonged there. She smelled faintly of wine, lavender, and that weird magic only he ever picked up on.

"You're drunk," he said, half-laughing as she buried her face in his chest and groaned like a tipsy banshee.

"You're warm," she muttered, muffled by his flannel.

He chuckled again, shutting the door behind them and steering her toward the couch. "For the record... Lois is just my coworker."

She perked up at that, slowly blinking up at him like she just registered the statement. "Really?"

He nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. "Really."

She squinted dramatically. "Even though she follows me? Watches me like she wants to figure me out? Like... a cat with a laser pointer it can't catch?"

Clark gave her a crooked smile. "Lois watches everyone. That's kind of her thing."

"Still. She's got that jealous ex energy," May said as she slumped back against the cushions. "She's probably got a whole red-string board titled 'Who the hell is May and why is she touching my coworker like that.'"

He laughed, soft and genuine, and she smiled up at him, a little dazed.

"Y'know," she murmured, her fingers lazily brushing the hem of his shirt, "if your eyes were any prettier, I'd start writing poetry."

Clark's brows rose. "You write poetry?"

"Nope," she grinned. "But for you, I'd fake it."

Before he could respond, she sighed and leaned against him completely, eyes fluttering shut.

"And there she goes," he muttered, shifting just enough to let her rest comfortably against his side. He looked down at her sleeping face—peaceful, with that slight curl to her lips that never quite disappeared.

Outside, the wind died down. Inside, the shadows curled lazily around her boots like loyal hounds at rest.

Clark just sat there, gently holding her, utterly confused but smiling all the same.

The sunlight creeping in through the old farmhouse windows was far too judgmental for May's liking. She groaned, a low, drawn-out sound that made the shadows at her feet twitch before sinking back into the floorboards. Her head throbbed, her throat dry, and every part of her felt like it had been dragged through a demigod war zone—which, to be fair, wasn't too far from reality these days.

Then the soft pad pad of footsteps caught her ear.

Clark entered the room holding two mugs, wearing a simple T-shirt and grey sweatpants, the kind that should be illegal on someone with that much leg.

She smirked immediately, eyes trailing with absolutely no shame. "Boy Scout," she rasped, voice rough with sleep and wine, "are you trying to seduce me with tea and sweatpants?"

He grinned, handing her a mug. "Just trying to ease your hangover before you start throwing shadow-daggers at my furniture."

She took the tea with a lazy grin. "Mmm. I could get used to this..."

Clark laughed and leaned against the counter. "How do you like your eggs?"

She blinked at him, smirk spreading. "Fertile."

Clark choked.

She sipped her tea sweetly. "Scrambled, actually. With a little salt and cheese. But I figured if I didn't throw you off once this morning, it wouldn't be me."

"Right," he coughed, cheeks pink as he turned toward the kitchen.

She watched him go with a hum, dragging the blanket off the couch and wrapping it around herself like a cape before she disappeared into the hallway toward his room.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged, freshly washed and wearing one of his old flannels that hung off her like a dress, paired with grey sweats cinched at her waist.

"Hope you don't mind," she said, waltzing barefoot into the kitchen like she owned it, brushing a hand through her damp hair. "My actual clothes smell like wine, and regret."

Clark turned, spatula in hand, and paused for half a second too long before saying, "You wear plaid well."

She leaned against the doorway, sipping her tea again with a smirk. "Careful, Kent. Compliments from you feel dangerously like foreplay."

He gave her a side-eye as he flipped the eggs. "Eat first. Flirt second."

"Deal," she purred, still very much flirting first.

The kitchen filled with the smell of eggs and toast, and outside the world spun on as if it didn't have a clue that a demigod was teasing the hell out of Superman in borrowed clothes.

The eggs were good. Almost too good. May sat on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs like a kid, one of Clark's too-big mugs cupped between her hands.

Clark watched her with amused patience as she made yet another ridiculous observation.

"I'm just saying," she declared between bites of toast, "if you can fly, shoot lasers from your eyes, and wear your underwear over your pants, you should at least have a pancake recipe that slaps."

Clark chuckled. "I never said I didn't have one."

She narrowed her eyes. "Prove it."

He raised a brow. "Now?"

"Right now. I'm wearing your clothes, drinking your tea, mocking your fashion choices—what's next if not pancakes?"

Clark leaned back against the sink, arms crossed, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "You're impossible."

"I've been called worse." She winked, popping the last bit of toast into her mouth.

They stayed like that for a moment—comfortably quiet, filled with easy energy and that fuzzy kind of domestic calm that made May almost forget the chaos that constantly trailed behind her.

Then: knock knock knock.

May tilted her head toward the door. "You expecting someone?"

Clark looked up, confused. "No..."

May hopped off the counter, bare feet silent as she crossed the room, flannel swishing just above her knees. She pulled the door open with that lazy grin she wore like armor.

And there stood Lois Lane.

Wearing a sharp blazer and holding her phone in one hand like it was a weapon, Lois blinked. Once. Twice. "Oh," she said. Flat.

"Oh," May echoed, sweet and utterly insincere. She leaned against the doorway, all legs and smug confidence, eyes dancing with delight. "You again."

Lois's lips thinned. "Didn't realize I'd be interrupting."

"You are," May said, absolutely not moving. "But I'm a generous host."

Clark stepped into the hallway behind her. "Lois? Everything okay?"

Lois didn't look at him. "Just came by to drop off the files you left at the office."

"Thanks—" he started, but May, with perfect timing, looped her arms around his waist from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder.

Lois blinked slowly.

Clark, slightly red now, looked between them, awkward but not pushing May away.

"Well," Lois said, sharply, "I'll let you get back to it. Looks like you're... busy."

May didn't miss a beat. "Oh, he is."

Clark made a noise that was probably meant to be a cough but came out more like a strangled laugh.

May smiled sweetly. "Bye now."

And with zero shame, she reached back, pulled the door shut with one hand, and yanked Clark gently inside with the other.

Once the door clicked shut, she looked up at him, positively glowing. "Do you think she likes me?"

Clark gave her a look.

May grinned. "Yeah. Me neither."

Clark shook his head, still a little pink in the cheeks, and turned to face her fully. "You are—"

"Delightful?" May offered innocently, fingers still curled in the hem of his shirt as she looked up at him through lashes that were absolutely batting on purpose.

He gave her a look that was all amusement and exasperation wrapped in one. "Something like that."

May smirked, standing on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his jaw. "Now," she said, voice playful and low, "where were we before the door knock of doom?"

Clark rested his hands on her hips, steadying her like she was some chaotic whirlwind that needed anchoring—which, let's be honest, she kind of was. "You were accusing me of pancake-related crimes, I think."

"Right!" she gasped, dramatically stepping back and pointing at him. "Your culinary honor is still on the line, Kent. You've got five minutes to impress me or I'm calling in a Greek god to cook for me instead."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know Greek gods?"

May's grin widened. "I might."

Clark laughed, shaking his head as he turned back toward the kitchen. "Alright then. Sit. Watch. And prepare to have your mind blown."

She flopped back onto a stool with a little groan, draping her arms across the counter like it was a fainting couch. "This better be the fluffiest pancake this side of Metropolis. I want it to emotionally support me."

As he grabbed the ingredients, Clark shot her a quick glance over his shoulder. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm charming."

"Same thing, apparently."

May grinned behind her mug, eyes softening as she watched him. It wasn't often she got this—quiet mornings, real laughter, someone who didn't treat her like a mystery or a threat. It was kind of... nice.

Too nice, maybe.

But she wasn't about to question it. Not today.

Today she had pancakes, tea, and the Boy Scout all to herself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[cdelphiki]

She couldn’t do this.

Damian. Her precious little Damian. The baby with a beautiful smile. Infectious laugh. Adorable babble. Who so sweetly, so gently, pet any stray cat that sat still long enough for him to ‘catch.’ Who hugged anyone that cared for him, and even the random servants who lingered long enough.

That baby. Her baby.

Watching him, at 18-months-old, be taught how to wield a sword. Watching as the trainer smacked his hands, his side, his face, every time he wobbled, or lost interest, or got confused.

Hearing his cry, and seeing his pleading eyes, whenever it happened.

Seeing him look at her, and call for her, then get distraught because she did nothing.

She just stood there.

Next to her father.

And watched.

There was nothing more she could do. Going against her father would only bring more harm on her son. It would only risk Father taking Damian from her entirely.

But she couldn’t do this.

It felt like her heart was being ripped out of her body.

Someone was inside her, with red hot claws, scratching away. Destroying everything. Killing her.

Her stomach was filling with vile acid, and just one move, one word, and it might come up.

Weakness, her father would say.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Perhaps that is why he ordered her presence, for this training session.

She’d hardly been allowed time with her son. Not in nearly a year had she been granted daily visits with him.

Her father had been disappointed in how attached she’d been becoming.

‘He is to be a warrior,’ Father had said, ‘worthy of his station. He cannot become the Demon’s head if he is soft.’

Perhaps it was then she should have done something.

Said something.

But instead, she just bowed her head and followed orders.

Like a good daughter would do.

What use was that now?

Damian whimpered again, as his trainer smacked him on the back with the flat of his blade. He’d started slouching. They were working on form.

Talia resisted closing her eyes. She knew, she knew if she did, she would not be able to stop the tears that followed.

She had to remain strong. Stable. Unaffected….

Unaffected in her father’s eyes, at least.

When she’d lied to Bruce, when she’d told him she’d miscarried…. What was she thinking?

She- she hadn’t wanted to betray her father. Hadn’t wanted to betray the League. This was her life. She’d been raised in this, she owed everything she had. Her training. Her wealth. Her skills. Everything to her father.

But-

But what did that matter?

Was it worth it? Was her son worth it?

“All done,” Damian pleaded, when he fell over and scraped his hands on the hard cement, “all done all done all done.”

The trainer just stood him back up and handed him the sword again, ignoring his cries.

When Damian looked at her and cried, “Mama,” again, Talia could taste the bile.

How could she have just handed her son over to Ra’s like this? What kind of monster was she?

Her son was crying for her, and she was standing by, watching him be hurt.

All because her father told her to.

The fact that he knew to call her ‘Mama’ was all because she snuck in to see him. Ordered his nursemaids to leave the room. Swore them to secrecy.

Had killed, a few of them…

She’s more than sure Ra’s had noticed, now.

As Talia stood there, watching her son struggle to stop crying and listen to his trainer, Talia made a decision.

Because nearly two years ago, when she’d told Bruce about her ‘miscarriage,’ she’d made a huge mistake.

Her father’s influence was toxic.

This training?

It was hell.

Talia loved what it’d turned her into, she loved her skills and abilities.

But if this was the cost?

This?

Her child?

There was only one place on earth where she’d be safe, where he’d be safe. One person able to offer that protection.

And once Talia told him, she knew he’d move heaven and earth to get them away.

- - -

To say Bruce was suspicious would be an understatement.

Talia had broken ties with him two years prior.

On not-so-friendly terms, at that.

She’d betrayed him. Joined her father, and all but stabbed him in the back in doing so.

He’d loved her.

He really had.

She had been- he thought she was-

They were going to spend their lives together. Raise a child. He thought she was-

But that was over. In the past.

And yet, there she was, staring back at him through a webcam, asking for his help.

Asking for help, after hacking into his computer, in the cave, where his son could enter at any moment.

How on earth was he supposed to explain his past fling with Talia al Ghul to Jason?

“Why should I trust you?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Because how would he be able to deny her request?

Once upon a time, he would have died for this opportunity. Would have cried, from utter relief, to get her away from the League. To bring her home. Keep her safe.

Yes. She could keep herself safe. Defend herself. Hold her own, against even him, but he could offer his protection of the entire Justice League. If it came down to it.

He’d loved her.

But she’d chosen her father. Chosen a life as an assassin. Rejected him. And it was hard for him to forget that.

“I lied to you,” she said, pulling his attention back to the present, “I lied.”

She said it with such finality, Bruce narrowed his eyes. And just stared.

He was sure she’d lied about many things. Why was this the ‘reason?’ And why would lying be a reason to trust her now?

To give her a chance, now?

“About?” he pressed, ignoring the thought in the back of his head asking whether this was all a distraction so the League could move in on Gotham.

Alarms would be going off, if that were the case. Literal alarms, in the cave.

Besides, the League hadn’t been doing anything in the United States for many months.

They were too busy building up their forces in the Alps. Bruce still had no idea why, but they’d been beefing up their presence there for over a year and a half.

“You know about what,” Talia said, gently. Almost apologetically.

His heart fluttered, a little.

There was one thing. One thing, that had she been lying about, he’s not sure he’d be angry about.

Not right now, at least.

“Bruce,” she pled, “I- I’ve made a mistake.” Her voice cracked, and she rested a hand against the side of her face as she looked off to the side, away from her camera. “Father is so cruel to him, Bruce. I need your help.”

No.

Anger was definitely not the emotion he was feeling. It- it was down there. It was deep, deep down there, and later that night. Or, perhaps, in a few days, he knew he would hit a punching bag until his knuckles were bloody.

But on top? Right now?

On top was hope.

Hope, excitement, and… and utter devastation.

“Him?” Bruce whispered, resisting the urge to rip his mask off and rub at his face. He was on camera, he had to remind himself. He had no idea how many people were watching.

And this could all be one magnificent lie. A trick to get him off balance. So they could strike, while he had his guard down.

While he was yearning for something he’d thought he’d lost, two years prior.

“He’s beautiful, Bruce,” she whispered, her voice catching on the next sentence, “He looks just like you, and I can tell he gets his empathy from you. But,” she paused, a ferocious determination taking over her face. A trait of her’s that had caused Bruce to fall in the first place.

“Father will destroy him if we don’t get him away.”

There would be no ‘ifs.’

If Bruce had ever had a mission that had no option for failure, it was this one.

He didn’t care if Talia changed her mind, ten minutes later. This mission was happening, and he was bringing home what he thought he’d lost.

Bruce has no idea how he got through the following ten minutes, planning out with Talia exactly how and when the pickup would go. Nightwing, Robin and himself would all approach the compound in the batwing, in stealth mode. He’d pulled Clark in on the call, and Superman agreed he would be on standby, watching from afar for anything to go wrong.

If they were spotted, or if the League tried anything, the entire Justice League would respond, if necessary.

Clark promised he’d keep the mission itself classified. No one but the core team would know the details of what they were picking up. The core team being himself, the Flash, and the Bats.

His ears were ringing the entire time, and he felt like an outsider, looking in.

‘He looks just like you,’ Talia had said.

That’s all he could think about.

Bruce had a son.

There-

Was there anything more to say?

He had a son.

“Talia,” he rasped, just before she cut the call with him. After a deep breath, he looked deep into the camera, doing his best to convey his seriousness. His promise, should it be necessary. “If this is a trick.”

With sadness in her eyes, Talia smiled and said, “We will see you tomorrow, Beloved,” and with that, ended the call.

It came as no surprise when, not even a quarter of a second later, the papers on his desk flew up into the air. Each one wafting back down, before Bruce even had the chance to close his eyes and take a breath.

Bringing Clark in on this was necessary.

As much as he hated bringing personal missions to those outside the family, there was no way he could risk this one.

If Talia was telling the truth, and he wasn’t successful on his own. Wasn’t able to take on the entire League while protecting a helpless infant.

Well.

He’d never forgive himself.

Ever.

But none of that meant he had to be happy his best friend was there to witness this.

“Bruce, this is,” Clark started, setting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing, but Bruce cut him off.

“Clark, just,” he said, pulling his mask off so he could finally wipe his eyes. He wasn’t even mortified at the crack in his voice, because there was far too many other things swirling through his head. “Give me a minute.”

He had… so much to do. He hadn’t time for this.

And yet…

It was the only thing he could do.

Closing his eyes, Bruce took a second to recenter himself. Find his strength and embrace his duties. Right now, he needed to be Batman.

But before he was able to complete a single deep breath, he heard from the top of the stairs, “B?”

And everything just became much more complicated.

“Bruce?” Jason asked again, a little hesitantly, as he made his way down the stairs, “Superman? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, reeling it all in and trying his best to blink back the wetness in his eyes. So maybe he wouldn’t have to wipe his face in front of his son.

His… middle son.

Because, Bruce actually had three…

“Is Dick okay?” Jason asked a little more frantically, because despite his best efforts, Bruce sniffed.

“He’s fine,” Clark soothed, squeezing Bruce’s shoulder a little tighter as Jason hurried his way down the stairs, “Nothing is wrong, Jase.”

“Then why is…” Jason said, trailing off when he finally made it to where Bruce was sitting.

They had so much to do. Bruce hadn’t the time for this.

It was time for Batman.

“Suit up,” he told his son, shrugging Clark’s hand off and squaring his shoulders. They had just under three hours before take off, and there was so much to do. “We have a mission.”

- - -

By ‘a mission,’ Bruce meant they were infiltrating the freaking League of Assassins.

Like.

In the middle of the day. Completely randomly.

Well, they were set to leave in three hours, with a 5 hour flight time. And considering the time difference, it would actually be about 4am when they arrived at Nanda Parbat.

So.

Middle of the night, kind of.

Jason was both super excited, and kind of freaked out.

Especially when Bruce called in Dick.

Those two worked together, sure. Sometimes. But it was always so fucking tense, and Jason kind of hated it.

Bruce also always refused to call in Dick for anything. Dick always just kind of, forced himself in on the mission.

But for this?

Whatever the fuck this was?

It had Bruce calling in not only Dick Grayson, but Superman, too.

Because that’s why Superman had been there. He’d already called the guy in.

Whatever was going on, it was huge.

And whatever it was, Jason actually started feeling very nervous. Because Bruce said he had news to share. And he called Alfred down first, before he shared it.

Bruce paced. Back and forth, back and forth. In front of the conference table for two full minutes while the four of them sat there, waiting for him to fucking say something.

“Do you want me?” Clark asked, and was immediately shot down by a glare from Bruce.

Was Bruce dying?

Were they going to the League to steal some pit water??

Because he said he was okay.

Clark said he was okay, and Clark wouldn’t lie about something like that. Right? Jason wouldn’t put it past Bruce at all to be a freaking hypocrite and lie to him so not to make him worry, but not Clark.

He was way too much a boy scout.

Yet, there Bruce was. Pacing back and forth. Freaking out about something.

“B, you’re freaking the kid out,” Dick said, leaning back in his chair, like he was fucking relaxed during this.

Their freaking dad could be dying and he was chill about it.

No wonder his name was Dick.

“I am not,” he protested, but Bruce quit his pacing and sighed, anyway.

“Honestly, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, from where he sat next to Jason, “Whatever it is, I am confident we can handle it.”

“A couple years ago,” Bruce started, pausing to sigh again before he turned his back to them, but continued, “I got… involved… with Talia al Ghul.”

“Gross. I knew it,” Dick said, pulling a face for Jason to see.

“From the League of Assassins,” Jason said, just to clarify.

So… were they staging this mission so Bruce could go…

Ew.

Gross.

Disgusting.

Jason hated his mind for putting that picture in his head.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed, apparently uncaring that he’d just put horrible awful pictures in Jason’s head.

He was thirteen. This was probably child abuse.

“It was serious,” he continued, “We had been… discussing marriage.”

“Oh my,” Alfred said, in as close to a gasp as Jason had ever heard from Alfred.

Jason didn’t blame him. Bruce had never really struck Jason as a ‘serious’ kinda guy.

Not with the ladies, at least.

Mostly because he had a different chick hanging off of him at every party.

“She had been with child,” Bruce finally said, nearly stumbling over his words as he spit the sentence out.

The air in the room seemed to still, and they all stared at Bruce.

Well, all of them, except Clark. Since apparently Clark already knew.

“Why… why,” Dick stammered, then stopped.

Jason didn’t really know what to ask first, either.

But apparently Bruce knew what to answer first.

“She told me she miscarried. She, she told me. I thought-“ with another sigh, Bruce turned back around, finally allowing them to see the exhaustion on his face, as he rubbed at it and sat down at the head of the table.

“I thought she’d miscarried. She dumped me, after that. Refused to leave her father and the League, and sent me home. I- I should have checked up on it. Verified her story, but… I was just so-”

Bruce put his face in his hands, and just sat there, for a very long minute.

Dick, to Jason’s surprise, was the one to break the silence, because neither he nor Alfred seemed to be able to find any words. Jason had never heard Bruce so close to tears, before.

He was kind of scared of getting Bruce to talk more.

And if Bruce was saying what he was saying, well…

Jason really had no words for it.

Batman apparently had a baby.

And they were going to rescue it from the League of Assassins.

That was just…

Wow.

Holy.

Shit.

“So,” Dick said, a small smile tugging on his lips as he did, “is it a boy or a girl?”

- - -

Everything was going smoothly.

They had agreed on a meet-up time eight hours from the end of their call, which meant Talia had most the night to figure out her plan for getting Damian out of his nursery.

In the end, she’d decided on using simple tranquilizer darts.

It was dirty, a completely dishonorable way to fight, but Talia couldn’t find it in herself to care.

The very last thing she needed was for one of the nursemaids to notice her break-in and alert the guards.

She’d packed her bag before heading to Damian’s room, so all she had left to do was grab him before Bruce arrived.

Sneaking into his room was painfully easy, and she only had to sedate one nursemaid, who had already been asleep, anyway.

Honestly. It couldn’t have been easier, and it was putting Talia on edge.

Damian stirred, when she lifted him from the crib, so Talia shoved the pacifier into his mouth she knew he’d been deprived of for eight months at that point.

He’d taken to sucking his thumb, in its stead, and Talia had always hated that about her father’s rules.

Why was it so difficult to indulge her son in one simple comfort.

The pacifier worked like a charm, and Damian latched onto it with one hand as he sucked away, curling into Talia’s hold as she wrapped the cloth around them both, creating a make-shift carrier.

Out of everything, the hardest part was getting him tied to her securely. Because with the pacifier, he was as quiet as a lamb, not making a single peep of protest. She wasn’t even sure if he’d woken enough to see who had been holding him.

After the day he’d had, Talia was grateful he could still find peace in his sleep.

Climbing up to the roofs was a little more difficult. Damian did whine, a little, when she had to press herself up against the wall of the third floor, to hide from a patrolling guard below.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, begging every deity she could think of to keep Damian silent as the guard paused and looked around. After adjusting her grip, so she could hold them both with one hand, she placed her newly free hand on his head and tried to soothe him.

Damian shifted against her, even though he was pinned rather tightly between her and the wall, then stilled. His little pacifier bobbing in and out as he grasped tightly to her blouse.

The guard looked around, up and down the narrow courtyard below where she was climbing, but after a long minute, turned around and continued on with his patrol.

Talia didn’t allow herself a sigh of relief.

With three more moves, Talia reached the edge of the roof and pulled herself up, without scraping Damian against the edge. He didn’t notice in his sleep.

Soon, he’d be able to pass all his nights in such peace.

His days, too.

She had no doubt in her mind that Bruce would offer them the sanctuary they needed, to allow Damian to grow up without fears.

But, if he didn’t, she’d find it anyway.

This child. Her child, would never know the pain he’d experienced that day again.

As silently as she’d been trained, Talia raced across the rooftops to the pickup location. Bruce was promised to be there in two minutes, and she needed to be three buildings over.

“Shh,” she whispered, hugging Damian tightly as she ran. The movement was, apparently, disrupting his sleep, and he’d started to stir, “sleep, my prince.”

“Mama,” he mumbled, snuggling against her.

“Yes,” she choked, preparing to make the last jump to the roof where Bruce was to meet them, “Mama is here, baby.”

She’d given Bruce the coordinates of the highest roof in the complex, in hopes that he could simply swoop in and grab them, not needing to stop or interact with anyone.

He was bringing his team, though. He was bringing Superman.

Talia had never had any sort of admiration for the alien. His technique was abysmal, tending to toss around his unearthly strength, rather than exhibit any skill during his fights.

But knowing that, if it came down to it, she could likely just shout ‘Superman,’ and in an instant he’d be there, ready and able to take Damian to safety… It helped keep her calm.

Father would not be expecting the help of a Kryptonian. Bruce had never been one to ask for help, so it was unlikely Father would have his kryptonite within reach.

The final jump was a little longer than comfortable, and Talia had to land in a roll to avoid injuring herself or falling off completely. She rolled on her back, using her arms to keep Damian from making contact with the roof at all.

Her heart was hammering when she finished the roll on her feet. She had thirty more yards to go, and she’d been at the exact coordinates she’d given Bruce.

Thirty more yards, and one more minute.

Talia shook, as she stood in the exact spot. Damian was fully awake now, and wriggling against the cloth wrapped around him.

“Be still, my dear,” she whispered, hugging him a little tighter as she searched the night sky for any sign of their rescue, “Just a few more moments.”

“Out,” Damian cried, not quite at a normal level, but much louder than Talia felt comfortable with, as he started struggling against her arms, “Down.”

“In a moment,” she whispered desperately. Her arms felt like rubber, as the adrenaline that had kept her running started to ebb.

It was a minute past pickup, and Batman was no where in sight.

If he didn’t show…

Damian whined out again, this time loudly.

“Be patient, my love,” she whispered, now fighting back tears, “Your father is coming for us.”

He had to be.

“Mama,” Damian cried, pulling his pacifier out of his mouth completely to whine at her more efficiently.

She looked around frantically, making sure no guards were near enough to have heard him.

When she didn’t see anyone coming at them, she bounced Damian some and tried to force the pacifier back into his mouth. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she repeated, over and over, really unsure, at this point, if it was for Damian or herself.

Because if Bruce weren’t coming, was any of his team?

Was she just standing on a roof, risking the life of her son for nothing?

Father would not take lightly an attempted defection.

What would he do to Damian?

Probably take him away from her forever. She’d never see him again. Never know the pain he was in. Never be able to hold him, after a hard day, and comfort him. Remind him of her love.

She’d lose him forever, and-

Talia’s knees nearly buckled when, without warning, a jet materialized out of nowhere not ten feet above her.

His technology was amazing. She hadn’t even felt it coming, much less heard it.

And before she even realized it, tears were streaming down her face.

A hatch opened, right on the underside of the jet, and Batman himself leaned out, reaching a hand down to her.

“Talia,” he breathed, shaking his hand, as if desperately begging her to grab it.

She’d never accepted an offered hand so fast in her life.

As he pulled her up into the jet, swiftly and effortlessly, as if it were nothing, Talia felt herself relax. All the adrenaline leave her body entirely as she collapsed right onto the ground of Bruce’s jet.

She didn’t even care who all was there to see.

Because for the first time in her life, Talia felt like she could breathe.

- - -

She hadn’t been lying.

That was the only thing circling through Bruce’s head as he pulled Talia up into the jet, them stopping barely long enough for him to do that before Dick was turning around and racing away.

As far as they could tell, they hadn’t been spotted until they turned off the craft’s cloaking system.

If all went to plan, the League would not be able to respond quickly enough to catch them. Nightwing was supposed to take them on an indirect route back to Gotham, completely in stealth mode.

Ra’s al Ghul could search the skies all night and never find them.

He hoped.

But all that was for Nightwing to worry about. That had been the plan. If Talia was telling the truth, he’d agreed, Bruce could focus on that, while Dick handled keeping them hidden and taking them to safety. Jason could give him backup, if necessary.

Bruce trusted Dick with his life.

And he was so thankful for that, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do much beyond what he was currently doing.

Which was watching as Talia collapsed onto the floor, clumsily freeing a baby from a carrier as she cried into his hair.

“Tal-“ he started, reaching an hand out to her, really unsure about what he was going to do. But he froze, when the baby squirmed and twisted out of the cloth holding him.

Because Talia was right.

He was beautiful.

His bright green eyes were mesmerizing, and Bruce felt his heart seize as the baby looked at him, ever so briefly.

It wasn’t until that very instant did Bruce realize his life had been incomplete.

There had been a piece of him missing, and he hadn’t even realized it.

The baby turned back to his mother and said, “Mama,” reaching up for her face.

“Yes,” Talia sobbed, grabbing his hand and holding it to her cheek, before she wrapped him up into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said, squeezing him tight, “I’m so sorry.”

Bruce watched helplessly as Talia devolved further and further into incoherence, as she whispered her apologies and proclaimed her love for the very confused looking baby in her arms.

The baby didn’t protest, though. He leaned into her hug and stayed there, like he understood his mother needed a hug back.

How old was he?

If he’d been born on time, by Bruce’s estimations, he’d be about…

Seventeen months old?

Eighteen?

He didn’t know much about baby development, but he did know that it was during the first year they turned from basically babies to tiny, outspoken little people.

How developed was his son? How much had Bruce missed?

Bruce knelt down in front of Talia and sat there, waiting for her to recover.

What she had been through, he had no idea.

It had to have been a lot, for her to reach out and actually ask for help.

She was stubborn, like that. Never asking for help. Never even expecting it.

And her reaction to being pulled into safety, well.

He was afraid to learn what she’d been through.

Jason caught his eye, lingering just on the outskirts of his vision. He looked up and tried to offer a reassuring face, but probably fell flat, because Jason frowned at him. But Jason held a thumbs up at him, both letting him know they’d flown into the clear and Superman had been informed of the successful mission, and asking if Bruce was good.

With a single nod, Bruce thanked him, and turned his attention back to Talia.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking at him, now, but still hugging the baby tightly to her.

“What happened?” he asked, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the baby.

Touch his son.

Bruce had never been one to want to hold babies, usually perfectly content to just observe them, but his arms yearned for the weight of this baby in his arms.

He didn’t even know his name.

“Father,” she said, her voice almost squeaking with the effort.

Bruce hadn’t seen her in two years, and he still wanted to pull her to his side.

Never had he seen her like this.

But he kept his distance. Let her recover on her own. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her, in that moment.

At all.

“Father,” she said again, this time much more confidently, one hand absently combing through the baby’s hair.

The beautiful baby who had twisted in her hold, just enough, to stare at him.

“Started his training.” There was so much pain in her voice, Bruce could only imagine what kind of horrors that meant.

Who trained a baby?

“Bruce,” she choked out, squeezing the baby again, “it was so bad. I- I just stood there and watched. I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything else. He would have harmed him more. Or taken him from me.”

“What happened,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible.

Any anger he had about whatever ‘training’ implied was being pushed down. Buried deep into the recesses of his brain.

No one needed his anger right now.

When the baby continued to stare at him, Bruce realized he still had his cowl on.

What kind of introduction was this? Being presented to his son as Batman, first.

Hopefully he hadn’t scared the kid too much to want to be held.

Talia started crying again, and shifted so she was sitting criss-cross, the baby still cradled in her arms as she blubbered out, “They hit him so many times, Bruce. I’m so sorry,” and before Bruce could even respond. Could even think of how to respond, she turned her face down to the baby and repeated, “I’m so sorry, Damian. I’m so sorry, my love. I’ll never let- I’ll never-”

But she didn’t complete the sentence, because she’d lost it again, and the baby… Damian?

Damian.

That was the most beautiful name he’d ever heard.

Damian looked very confused and concerned for his mother’s mood.

“He’s safe now,” Bruce tried, scooting over to her side to set a hand on her back, “He’s safe.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, curling further onto Damian.

“Mama,” Damian said again, this time pointing at Bruce when Talia opened her eyes and gave him her attention.

“Yes,” she said, smiling for the first time as she wiped her tears away, “Yes, dear. This is-“ she paused, looking up at Bruce, then said again, “This is Daddy.”

Bruce could cry.

He was not going to cry.

“Do you want to hold him?” Talia asked, apparently seeing the intense desire plastered all over his face.

All Bruce wanted to do was hold him. There was nothing on earth he wanted more.

“May I?” he asked, almost afraid to even try.

What if Damian didn’t like him?

What if he started crying, when Bruce took him?

“He’s your son, Bruce,” Talia said, lifting Damian from her lap and offering him over.

After hesitating for only a second, Bruce reached out and held his hands out to Damian, who looked at him appraisingly, like he were judging Bruce and determining if he was worth his attention.

But then, before Bruce could even hold his breath, Damian leaned toward him, and Bruce could definitely cry.

Because then Damian was in his arms, looking straight into his eyes as he let Bruce hold him close.

And-

And.

Bruce had no thoughts.

“Hi, Damian,” he choked out, trying his hardest not to cry, “I’m- I’m your-“ but he couldn’t get the word out.

Couldn’t get anything else out.

Damian didn’t seem to care, because he smiled at Bruce and said, “Hi,” back.

And Bruce was definitely crying, now.

Just a little.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because he had the son he thought he’d lost two years ago cradled in his arms, and nothing could ruin the moment.

- - -

Jason was thankful that the jet was large enough he didn’t have to hear Bruce talking to his new baby son.

He honestly had no idea how to feel about all of this.

Bruce had apparently done it with the daughter of one of their most dangerous villains, and he was now probably definitely crying tears of joy while he held the son of said villainous daughter.

But Jason wasn’t jealous.

How could he be?

The baby was just a baby. It’s not like the posed any sort of threat to Jason.

Except.

By… stealing away Bruce’s attention.

Jason was not being jealous of a baby. The baby deserved his dad’s attention. Especially since he had a dad as great as Bruce. Jason would know. He’d been playing the role of dad for him for a year.

Now, though… now he had a real son.

He was not jealous.

“Stop worrying,” Dick said, from where he was flying the jet, sitting in the seat next to Jason.

Jason had taken the spot of co-pilot just because it was the farthest away from Bruce he could be. He wasn’t really helping Nightwing fly.

Mostly because Nightwing didn’t need help flying. He actually had the auto-pilot engaged.

“I’m not worrying.”

“You’re right,” Dick said, laughing a little as he leaned back in his chair, “You’re freaking out.”

Crossing his arms, Jason tried his best to look completely and totally unaffected by everything ever as he said, “Am not.”

Apparently he was unconvincing, because Dick gave him a shit eating grin and ruffled his hair.

Like the asshole he was.

“You’re right. You’re the epitome of calm and collected.”

“Fuck you,” Jason snapped. Dick should mind his own fucking business.

They still weren’t, like, friends or anything, either. Dick had been clear about how happy he was Jason existed. Sure, they’d kind of made up some in recent months. And Dick even offered his blessing for Jason to be Robin, but that didn’t mean they were friends.

Apparently Dick didn’t agree, because he kept being an asshole and talking to him by saying, “Look, this isn’t going to change anything between you and Bruce, okay?”

Through a pout, Jason mumbled, “How would you know?” Bruce getting a son was going to change everything.

“Because this happened to me, remember?”

Jason rolled his eyes. Just because Bruce adopted him didn’t mean Dick knew what it was like to have his adopted dad get a biological child and not need him anymore. If anything, Dick should be freaking out, too, because they were both the adopted kids and the baby was the real son.

Except Dick didn’t live with them, so he wasn’t at risk of being homeless again if Bruce kicked him out. Since, well, Bruce couldn’t kick him out.

Maybe Dick should fuck off and leave him alone.

“Did Bruce adopting you change how he felt about me?” Dick asked, nudging Jason’s arm as he did.

Asshole.

“Fuck you, it’s different,” he snapped. In fact, they all knew Dick was the favorite child between the two of them, so it was completely and totally different.

Maybe Dick should be worrying more. He wasn’t going to be the favorite anymore.

Bruce was so happy about having a biological son he was crying about it.

Bruce had never been that happy about Jason.

“Not really,” Dick said, sighing some, “I thought he was writing me off completely when he adopted you.”

“Bruce never shuts up about you, it’s always ‘Dick this’ and ‘Dick that’ whenever I do anything, so shut up. But we’re both adopted, and that baby over there ain’t.”

Dick cocked a head at him and then let out a huff of a laugh. “Bruce never even told you. Wow.”

“Told me what?” Jason demanded, crossing his arms harder, because he didn’t want to storm off. Mostly because that would mean facing Bruce with his stupid new baby.

“I knew he was terrible with communication, but geez.”

“What, Dickface, just tell me.”

“Jase,” Dick said, offering a softer smile than before, “I’m not adopted. Bruce never adopted me. He was simply my ‘guardian’ until I aged out of the system. He has no legal obligation to me at all, now.”

“He-“ Jason started, because there was no way that was true.

No. Fucking. Way.

Bruce cared about Dick way too much for that to be true.

And why would Bruce adopt him, but not Dick? That also made no sense.

Dick was the favorite.

“You’re lying. He calls you his son all the time.”

“I know,” Dick said softly, still smiling like an asshole, “Because even if he’s never said it, and probably never will say it, he loves me. Just like he loves you.”

“Shut up,” he said, because he couldn’t figure out anything else to say. Obviously he knew Bruce, like, loved him and shit. But they didn’t have to talk about it.

But… Dick was kind of right about one point. He was adopted.

It’s not like Bruce could go back on that.

So kicked out probably wasn’t on the table.

“I promise, Jason, this isn’t going to change anything between you two. So don’t worry too much.”

Jason was stuck trying to come up with something to respond with that was more witty than 'fuck you' when he was startled by Bruce’s footsteps approaching the cockpit.

If Bruce saw him pouting, there was no doubt he’d be able to read Jason as easily as Dick Fucking Grayson had read him, and that would not be good.

He wasn’t ready for that.

“Jason,” Bruce said, sounding like he was smiling wider than Jason had ever seen him smile.

Except.

Maybe.

On his adoption day. When Bruce hugged him and said ,“Welcome to the family, Jaylad,” with his stupid dopey smile…

And… and…

“Dick,” Bruce continued, now inside the cockpit, with the little baby in his arms, “I want you boys to meet your little brother, Damian.”

And maybe…

Maybe Dick was right.

Jason had nothing to worry about.

He’d always wanted a little brother, too.

[pretend-writer]

Down Below (Chapter 72)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, John Murphy x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 2k words

Warning: swearing, mention of death

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

It was hard to grasp why majority of us were in on staying in Sanctum. Call me paranoid but it was hard to trust someone who we barely knew; I mean look what happened with the grounders, Mount Weather, Diyoza and McCreary.

But Clarke always knew what was best for us right? She was the person we had to listen to because she kept us together, kept us sane and had our back throughout everything. Obviously Clarke knew what she was doing.

She knew it was a great idea to leave Raven, Marcus and Octavia outside when the radiation was going to kill us. Clarke knew to shoot me in the head when I tried to save them. She knew to betray her family and side with the enemy that was trying to kill them for the valley.

So it was such a great idea to listen to her to stay here. Not that we had a say in it at all.

Some of us knew that this was a terrible idea. They interviewed Clarke, horrible candidate to represent us, to show us that we were reliable to the community. That we were no harm.

But that was a lie wasn't it? All we've been doing since we landed on Earth was fight war one day after another. We've made enemies, soon joined clans but continued to kill each other. Who were we to tell them that we deserve to live with them.

Somehow, someway Russell and his people accepted us into their community. Don't know what lie Clarke pulled out of her ass but they were more than excited for us to stay with them. Too excited.

So enthused about welcoming us that they've invited us to attend their Opening Ceremony for "Naming Day", whatever that meant.

John and I sat together, watching everyone mingling and introducing themselves to our new "people."

'You know it's bad for your skin to crinkle your brows like that.' John laughed softly, watching me stress over these new people that we had to live with.

Looking over at Murphy, I rubbed my forehead as I tried to hide my facial expression. 'I'm sorry. Force of habit to not trust people, that's all.'

'Enemies wouldn't save lives. Matter of fact, I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for them.'

'Please don't tell me you're defending them.'

'Ah, no. It's just that-' He bit his lip as he gazed at the people. 'I don't know, it doesn't hurt to have a little hope. For us.'

My jaw dropped, 'John Murphy talking about hope? Wow, you must be a different person.'

He nudged me, 'I died, didn't I?'

'Not funny.'

'What? Too soon?' He chuckled a little until he saw that I wasn't joking. 'Aw, baby I'm sorry.'

The flashback of that moment still terrified me, the way he lied silently, not moving a muscle. 'I was scared that I was going to lose you.'

John smiled, kissing me on my temple as he wrapped his arm around me. 'I'm not going anywhere. Your sister calls me cockroach remember?'

'Right, the infamous cockroach.' I kissed his cheek, leaning into his chest.

As I look up I see Raven approaching us with a huge grin on her face. 'It's been a long, long time since I've seen you two cozying up like this. You two lovebirds need a room?'

'I think you should get Jordan a room.' John pointed at him flirting with Delilah, the girl that everyone was celebrating Naming Day for. 'Man, I bet Monty is so proud.'

As I was laughing at the joke, I saw Bellamy and Clarke talking in a serious tone then eventually hugging. I didn't know what they were talking about but my guess was she was apologizing for the billionth time about all the "mistakes" she had made.

Raven stood in front of my view, looking over me with her arms crossed in front of her. She was probably confused, assuming that I was staring at Bellamy for a different reason.

As I looked up and met my eyes with Raven, she shook her head. I continued to stare at her with a straight face, showing her that I didn't care about what he did, more so annoyed about what Clarke was doing. I didn't want to say that aloud, of course.

Besides, I was angry with Bellamy. I didn't give a damn about what he was doing. If he wanted to make amends with Clarke that was going to betray us again, he can knock himself out.

Speaking of the devil, I heard their voice getting closer. Knowing Clarke's voice from miles away, I rolled my eyes as she started to speak to us.

'The ceremony is about to start soon. Don't really know what we're supposed to do but it'll be good for us to attend.'

'Count me out.' I laughed sarcastically, 'You guys can have your fun.'

Clarke rested her hands on her hips, 'We don't want them to think we're being disrespectful right?'

'I don't give a damn about what they think about us. I never agreed to stay here anyways.' I stood up and approached Clarke. 'They were digging into our history, did you ever think to ask them questions as well?'

Bellamy cut in, defending Clarke. 'She's doing the best she can for our people. They've agreed to take us in and because of that, we have a home now.'

'Okay, so where are the rest of our people? Some are still in cryo and stuck in the ship, correct?' I shook my head, 'It's always whatever that's convenient for you. Not us as a whole.'

'Soon enough, we will bring them here. Right now, we just bring whoever can represent us as a whole and look the best we can.'

'Mhm.' I hummed, staring at Clarke as my thoughts went elsewhere. She brought Madi back, having Gaia by her side as she was trained to control the flame in her neck.

She only brought people who were convenient for her, using us as bait to make ourselves look good when in all reality was that we had a ugly history behind us.

Why couldn't she bring Indra? She was smart in these situations, great at communicating and talking with people. Matter of fact, knew how to handle and escape tough situations. Yet she brought Gaia with us; without her mother. Only to use her to benefit her "daughter", Madi.

The fact was that nothing that was coming out of her mouth made sense; if we were safe and welcomed into the family, why couldn't we bring the rest of our people? Why couldn't we start settling into this "wonderful" place if this was our home now?

'Clarke again with the bullshit. How long will it take for you to betray us this time?' A chuckle escaped my mouth. 'I'll be in here, away from these people while I enjoying the booze I haven't had in years.'

'Same here. I'm going to the bar.' Raven didn't bat an eye before she walked away. I followed her to the back, where the bar counter was.

Sitting down as I took a deep breath, I pouring my first shot. 'I probably should just go back to cryo, pretend that none of this is happening.'

'I hear ya. I'll join you if you actually mean it.' John jumped in, sitting next to me as he poured a shot as well.

'Do we really believe this crap? I mean come on, it's so obvious Russell or someone has something on Clarke.' Raven shook her head, taking a sip from her beer that she had before.

'Clearly, he didn't want us near Sanctum and now he's so welcoming. I agree, something is definitely not right.' I knew I sounded paranoid, but given the fact that Russell almost wanted nothing to do with us, it did sound a bit odd.

Raven looked at me with a smirk on her face. 'You want to snoop around? I mean no offense to them but I just don't trust them.'

Murphy raised his brows, 'The perfect Raven Reyes suddenly wants to be bad? Wow.'

'How is this bad? I need to make sure we're not falling into some trap.'

'I'm down for that. Whatever we need to do to keep us safe.' I smiled.

'Do we have to ruin this?' John sighed, 'I mean come on. We're in paradise right now. Let's leave it be for a few days, enjoy ourselves.'

Raven shook her head as she grinned, 'Okay now you're crazy. You want to turn down being bad?'

John nudged Raven, 'Leave me alone. Recently died here.'

I instantly looked over at him, Murphy noticed too because he apologized. 'I-Sorry Y/N. I guess it's just my way of coping. I'm sorry.'

'Yeah, I know.' I sighed, understanding his part but also sensitive to the subject. It hurt to see him like that and the flashbacks just drove me crazy.'

'This is why we need to keep it be, for now. Let's just enjoy this moment. Y/N, when was the last time you were relaxed?' John smiled, 'Let's go on a date, you and me.'

'A date?' I didn't know why but my mind went blank, what is a date exactly?

My whole life I was trapped in a metal box that was floating out of space, the life after that all I knew was fight and survival. I've never in my life never dreamed or even thought of a date. A moment to spend quality time with a significant other.

'What did you sound like that.' John scratched his head. 'I mean if you don-'

'No, no. It's just that, I've never even thought about any of that stuff.' My cheeks got warmer, I could feel myself blushing. 'I'd love to go on a date with you.'

His eyes widened, John's cheeks getting pink as well. Raven giggled, 'You two act like you haven't seen each other naked. Why are you guys shy all of the sudden.'

The joke made everything worse, our cheeks getting redder. I took another shot and then hit my sister, 'Okay stop with that!'

'What? It's true.'

Murphy rolled his eyes as he laughed at Raven, then turned back to me. 'Meet me in front of the staircase tomorrow night. The one that goes up to that palace, okay?'

I nodded, butterflies in my stomach as I was excited. It had been a long time since I've looked forward to something, hell, it had been a long time since I've been genuinely happy.

Bellamy's POV;

She was smiling, so beautifully and so happily. I haven't seen Y/N smile so genuinely since I left her on Earth. Now she was smiling, except I wasn't the reason behind that joy.

Reyes was done with me now, I knew all the reasoning behind it. Everything she had said about me was true; I was a hypocrite, I was a cheater, I was everything she didn't deserve at all.

Of course she left me for Murphy, he was good. He'd done a lot better in the Ring than I ever did. Hell, anyone up there did better.

Now, I deserve what had come to me. The love of my life with another man, me being miserable once again. But I couldn't complain, I deserve this. After hurting Y/N, not pulling her out of the struggle that she had been facing under the bunker.

She had called for help so many times, the silence but loud cries of suffering that I ignored. Not to mention the fact that I've pushed my sister away also; I didn't know why I was behaving the way that I was.

This time, I was alone. Facing these new strangers that we started sharing their spaces with, facing them by myself. No one wanted to be near me but Clarke. I didn't know how I felt about it, considering Y/N had really strong feeling towards her but it was better than nothing.

The fact of the matter was I had to do better, I had to win Reyes back and make her love me again. Go how it used to be, how it was supposed to be when she flew up to the Ring with us.

But I couldn't tell her my secret; Y/N couldn't know about the six years that happened with me while I was up there. She should never know.

[fen-ha-fuck-you]

So in one scene we have Echo stating that if it had been her, Clarke or Octavia who had been killed then Bellamy would be right where she's standing pretty much stating that they're the most important people to him (which is canonically bullshit see Bellamy's approach to Sanctum after Clarke was murdered), and yet all but screamed that Clarke doesn't know Bellamy or what he'd do. So does Echo think Bellarke was one sided or does she not get the difference between knowing and understanding?

+ a different ask that I know was someone else, but relates:

I was seeing gifs of C telling E that B wouldn't want the genocide and E screaming at her that she didn't know what B would want and flashbacks to B telling Rus he'd take his deal instead of revenge because it's what C would want and it just hit me how different the situations are; C was purposefully murdered, the Primes made a choice to erase her no matter the cost. B's death wasn't a choice, it was more an accident, and yet Echo tried to justify murdering hundreds or thousands? Thinks B would?

Bellamy was 100% correct when he said Echo’s loyalty is her weakness. And this assessment may have been given out of anger, but Hope was also 100% correct that Echo was just happy to have someone giving her orders again in Bardo, even if they weren’t orders she had any intention of following.

Echo has no idea who she is outside of her loyalty, and without the guidance that that brings, she’s directionless. Revenge is a direction. Anders provided that, and it’s the one she latched onto. 

Let’s briefly circle back to Sky Ring/Penance and the isolation of it all, because it stood out to me as it was unfolding on-screen, but now I have a meta to attach it to.

Octavia spent 10 years in isolation on Penance. In that time, she let go of her rage. She found family in Hope and Diyoza. She built a life that went beyond fighting and survival.  She tossed a letter into the lake for Bellamy. She learned how to be happy and at peace with herself despite the circumstances of her existence and Bellamy’s absence. 

Clarke spent 6 years and 7 days in isolation on Earth. She spent a couple months struggling to survive in a wasteland before finding Shallow Valley. She found family in Madi. She built a life that went beyond fighting and survival. She called Bellamy every day with no response. She missed him and the hope of seeing him again kept her going, but her happiness wasn't reliant on him alone.

Echo spent 5 years in isolation on Penance. She spent that time with Hope, Gabriel, and Orlando. She trained with them every day. And when it came time to go to Bardo, she killed all the Disciples and left Orlando behind.

Not one of these three women wanted to be in the situation they were in. And sure, I’ll grant that Echo’s situation was slightly different in that Bellamy was kidnapped instead of just not aware of her whereabouts or nebulously absent in space with no idea she was alive.

But Echo didn’t find family in the people she had with her. She had no interest in what they wanted. She didn’t build a life, and she didn’t try to find happiness in those five years. She was only focused on the mission. And once she found out Bellamy was “dead,” any plans they’d had to find Hope’s mom went out the window as far as Echo was concerned.

I don’t think Echo actually thinks that Clarke “has no idea” what Bellamy would want. 

When Echo let Hope out of her cell, she described Clarke as “a complication.” She knew that Clarke wouldn’t be okay with what she had planned, which also tells me that Echo knew full well that Bellamy wouldn’t be either.

To borrow my own words from an ask I answered last season:

“When she decides she’s loyal to someone or some group, she throws herself into it, often to a fault. She loses all thought of consequences and sometimes even the desires of the people she’s loyal to. Nia told her to start a war with Lexa, so Echo betrayed Bellamy in the plot to blow up Mount Weather. Echo thought Roan would want the mythical power of Wanheda so she pushed for it and tried to kill Clarke on several occasions, and was genuinely confused when Roan was upset at her. Echo thought that Azgeda should win the bunker, so she cheated in the Conclave and was shocked and upset when Bellamy told Roan and he banished her for it. Echo wanted revenge for Bellamy being left in the fighting pit, so she tried to kill Clarke in front of Madi, without thinking about what Bellamy would want in that situation.”

Echo’s decision to try and genocide Bardo was a selfish one. Pure and simple. She says that outright. It wasn’t about what Bellamy would want. It was about vengeance. 

Echo doesn’t think Clarke has no idea what Bellamy would want. She lashed out because she knew Clarke was right, and she's upset that Clarke is actually emotionally capable of following through on what he would want; getting their friends out without unnecessary casualties.

Clarke, to Raven: “We do this for him.”

Which brings us to Bellamy. Who is not actually dead, and has no idea what he’s gonna be walking into.

Bellamy is—and always has been—a man who values and honors the wishes of the people he loves, even when those wishes aren’t what he wants. 

Bellamy refusing to kill Russell and take revenge for Clarke’s murder, and making peace instead because it’s what she would’ve done is a huge example. But it’s not the biggest. 

Praimfaya gets that title.

The only reason Bellamy didn’t go after Clarke is because she told him it’s not what she wanted. She told him he had to use his head to save their friends, and so that’s what he did. 

Raven: “Think we can do this without her?” Bellamy: “If we don’t, she died in vain. And I’m not gonna let that happen.”

There is a fundamental incompatibility here between Bellamy / Clarke’s values and Echo’s that comes down to intent. And it matters. 

This “Last War” isn’t a war at all. Foreshadowing was sprinkled all over 7x10. It’s a test of humanity. Not “humanity” as in the human race, but humanity, the value. Benevolence. Compassion. Love. 

What you want. What you feel. What you’ve done. What you’ll do. And why.

I’m linking asks I’ve answered in the past that are related to this in the replies in case anyone is interested.

[inmyownlaine]

Cages: John Murphy x OC Fanfiction

GIF//

SPOILERS: If you have not finished the series proceed with caution!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1664

Chapter: Two

Summary: After falling asleep, Aerie wakes up to a foreign source of light. The sudden disturbance of peace causes underlying issues to come to the surface. Murphy steps in, making matters worse.

────────────────────────────────────────────

Aerie didn’t remember falling asleep. Murphy was rolled up in a ball, turned away from her. She rubbed her eyes carefully, trying her best to keep the sand out. It was still dark, the sun nowhere in sight.

She loved mornings like these. The ones where it seemed like everything was asleep, even the earth itself. Where she could disconnect from reality and imagine herself in another universe. Aerie could encounter a million mornings like this and still feel the same exact way: completely at peace.

Aerie began to stretch out, her back craned with her chest pushing towards the stars. As she tilted her neck back, preparing to loosen the cramped muscles, a sudden flash of light exploded against the indigo sky. She straightened herself immediately, leaning forwards and scrambling to her knees.

She was no astronomer. She wouldn’t even consider herself knowledgeable about space. But she knew enough to reasonably conclude that this was no shooting star. It’s lasting glow remained in the sky as it slowly traveled to the ground, dipping and diving over the uneven terrain.

It was something foreign. Maybe even magic.

Eyes wide with horror and mouth clamped with fear, she nudged Murphy awake.. He groaned aloud and flopped on his back, sticking his arms straight up in the air. “What?” he grumbled, sounding eerily similar to a moody teenager.

Aerie didn’t even have to reply. Through closed eyelids, Murphy saw the incoming brightness. He threw his arm over his face, providing very little shade from the beam. “Aerie?” he yelled, almost as if he expected her to have any answers.

Of course, she didn’t. Rooted to her spot, she squinted in the light’s direction, curiosity taking over her better instincts. Though she had never seen anything like this, it felt familiar to her. As if she had experienced this herself.

“What are you doing?” Murphy’s arm latched onto her forearm, tugging with enough force to move her a couple inches in the sand. It was then she realized how dire the situation was, clambering to her feet and retreating with Murphy back to the huts.

The commotion caused the rest of the group to come outside. They were clearly feeling the same way as Aerie: frightened, yet curious. Just as things were feeling safe, another freak phenomenon had to ruin what they were building.

“What’s going on?” Raven questioned, ponytail swinging from side to side as she frantically tried to look at everyone at once.

“Run!” Clarke replied, ignoring Raven completely and entering survival mode.

They had only gotten to the edge of the sand when the light stopped above the sea foam. It levitated before slowly descending to the ground. Everyone stopped, clinging onto one another for support. If this was going to end in war, they were going to fight it together.

The beam started to dissipate, resembling that of a tamed firework. Sparkles of gold and yellow swirled in a cylindrical pattern before finally coming together to form a silhouette. They started disappearing at the top, moving downwards as a body took its place. First a mop of curly brown hair, then a dark pair of eyes, warm enough to thaw the heart of any villain, outsider, or wrongdoer.

Aerie watched in awe as a man with a white robe stood in front of them, seemingly calm and inquisitive. It was a look she didn’t get to see much. He was always worried about protecting his friends and being the perfect leader. It was nice, for a change, to see him in a state of tranquility. No matter how anyone felt about his newfound beliefs.

“Bellamy,” Octavia whispered, face contorting into disbelief and sadness. Echo took a step towards him, but stopped herself after the first one.

He gave a small smile, nodding in her direction. It had been a long time since any of them had seen Bellamy. Aerie could sense the tension radiating from Clarke. The last time she was with Bellamy, she tried to kill him. Aerie questioned why he would return to a group of people that was so hostile towards him.

“Why did you come back?” Echo asked.

“Now you can’t transcend,” Aerie added. She knew that he wanted it more than anything. She remembered the look in his eyes when she left him last. It was full of hope that had been drained from his body long ago. Aerie was one of few that decided not to take that away from him.

“You can’t,” he corrected, hands folded patiently in front of his stomach. “You were saved by grace. But I believed.”

“So, what? You’re going to come here and rub it in our face?” Clarke retorted, arms crossed across her chest.

Bellamy wasn’t fazed. Instead, he stared at her deeply with his dark brown eyes. Lips pursed together calmly, studying the nature of a person that had lost everything. He knew it wasn’t personal.

“Madi is fine.”

Clarke’s lower lip began to tremble as she fell backwards, grabbing onto Murphy’s shoulder. He placed his arm around her lower back, eyes wide with surprise. Carefully, Murphy lowered Clarke to the ground as tears fell from her eyes.

“In fact, I would say she’s thriving. No more war. No more fear. It’s the perfect place for her.”

Aerie knew Clarke disagreed. The perfect place for Madi, in Clarke’s eyes, was with her. Yetshe couldn’t afford to be selfish. Madi didn’t have a life on Earth. There were no children for her to socialize with. There was nothing to help her grow. She would be the only human her age in a world of terror.

“And I forgive you,” Bellamy spoke, nodding towards Clarke.

“I don’t need your forgiveness,” she spat, the corners of her mouth pulling down towards her chin. “If anything, you are the one that needs redemption. I lost everything because of you. Everything!”

The birds scattered from the trees as she wailed aloud. Everyone standing had a story to tell. No one’s life was easy. But Clarke’s seemed to trump them all.

Aerie lost her parents in seconds, along with most of Skaikru when the Ark fell from orbit. She still wasn’t over it, and never truly would be, but at least her father wasn’t floated. And at least her partner wasn’t murdered. And at least her mother’s body wasn’t stolen. And at least she was able to transcend. The atrocities continued on for Clarke Griffin.

“Whether you do or don’t, just know you have it.”

“Out of all the things I want to have,” Clarke scoffed, “your good graces are not on my list.”

With that, she pushed herself off the sand and headed towards the forest line. Bellamy’s fingertips pulled towards her, but the rest of him remained. Raven chased after Clarke, calling her name as they disappeared into the trees. Silence fell as the rest of the group shared awkward glances with one another.

“Why are you here?” Echo finally asked. The sockets of her eyes were flushed pink, holding back a flurry of emotions. She made it perfectly clear how upset she was with Bellamy the first week Skaikru spent together. She couldn’t believe how he could betray the people loved.

But beneath all that rage, she was mostly hurt. Hurt that he chose faith over her. That she wasn’t his main priority in a world where everything was uncertain. In a time where everyone needed each other to get through. She felt used.

“I have unfinished business,” he stated simply. Bellamy’s head dropped, but beneath hooded lids, his eyes fixated on Aerie. Octavia noticed this immediately, a cackle escaping her lips.

“Of course,” she jaunted, throwing her hands in the air. “You came for your savior. Not your sister. Not your girlfriend. Her.”

Aerie scoffed in response, insulted by the obvious venom Octavia was spitting. She had every right to feel upset, but not at Aerie’s expense.

A tear trickled down Echo’s cheek as she bit the inside of her cheek. Fearing loss of control, she spun around and ran to her hut. Bellamy’s mouth opened, a silent battle raging in his head. He wasn’t allowed to love. It made him weak. It clouded his judgement.

It didn’t matter. The door slammed behind her, shutting him out for the time being.

“Save it, big brother,” Octavia grumbled.

“Knock it off, Octavia,” Murphy spoke up. It caused Aerie to tense up. She forgot he was standing beside her. Come to think of it, she forgot there was a whole crowd of people watching the dramatic scene.

“What? My own brother comes back to earth and instead of wanting to see me, he wants Aerie.”

“Well if I were Bellamy I would probably avoid you, too,” Murphy countered. “Who was the one that supported Clarke’s decision?”

She charged at him, but Levitt wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her back as she yelled profanities at Murphy. He wasn’t the least bit fazed. Instead, he stood in front of her, arms crossed defiantly across his chest. Octavia continued to kick around in an attempt to free herself.

“Are you done yet?” Murphy asked, unamused.

Octavia let out a blood-curdling scream. It was something she had gotten particularly good at after becoming Bloodreina. There were a lot of awful events that spawned from that moment in time, but she did learn how to let out a gruesome battle cry.

Indra stepped in between the two, signalling for Gaia to help Levitt take her away. She did so immediately, trying to comfort her in the process. “It doesn’t matter!” Octavia yelled. “Bellamy died a long time ago! He died!”

Bellamy’s face scrunched together, an expression of anguish easy to see. He didn’t let it linger, relaxing his muscles quickly before addressing Aerie. “Is there somewhere we can go? To talk?”

“Yeah,” Aerie answered, already leading the way. Bellamy trailed behind, leaving the others to gossip among themselves.

“You and I have a lot to discuss.”

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Banished (Part 54)

~Banished Master~

Word Count: 4.4K

~Master~

*Based off episode 4x09 of the 100, DNR*

*Bold/Italics are Trig!*

A/N: PLEASE READ! So, I’ve made the decision to go back to only writing the parts of the episode that Y/N’s in or parts I deem necessary. I’m just getting tired of writing out 10K parts and not hitting 100 notes. It’s too much work. I haven’t hit 100 notes for this series in a while. I can’t promise when the next update will be (PLEASE DON’T ASK) because it depends on the response I get to this one. Thanks everyone and thanks for being patient with me!

Previously...

---

The ride off the island and back to Polis was an almost silent one. You hadn’t said anything to Abby since she destroyed the radiation chamber or to Clarke with her constant glances between you and her mother. Roan was silent as well as he sat next to you, obviously annoyed with the tense situation happening in the back of the rover. When the vehicle stopped, he was the first to jump out, sticking a hand to help you out but you didn’t accept it, sliding out anyways.

“Clarke!” Abby called out as the girl started to follow out behind you, only to stop. “I need to talk to you.” You glanced back at her, Roan waiting back as well when Clarke paused and told you both to go. You nodded, following behind Roan as Abby and Clarke spoke. The snow on the air and in the air made you shiver as you realized you left your jacket back in the rover.

“Hey!” You called ahead to Roan who stopped walking and looked back. “Left my jacket, I’ll be right back. You can keep going, I’ll meet up.” He gave you a look before nodding, watching you rub your arms against the long-sleeved shirt that did nothing against the cold. Clarke and Abby didn’t get far into the conversation as you returned, stopping yourself before they saw you as you listened in.

“What about Roan?” Clarke asked as you pressed yourself against the rover, trying to hear better.

“Trikru would rather go to war than share the bunker with Azgeda.”

You could hear confusion in Clarke’s words as she questioned her mother. “Mom, Roan is our friend. Y/N made a deal with him, he’s our Ally.”

Abby just shook her head. “Not anymore.”

You didn’t know the full story but it was obvious Trikru knew about the bunker and your people were planning on keeping it from Roan’s. “They’re gonna kill him.” Realizing Clarke was right, you ran as fast as you could back to where you left Roan. When he wasn’t there, you kept going, pushing tree branches out of your face until you came into the clearing

“Don’t do it!” you shouted before you everyone looked at you. Kane was the only one you could see who didn’t come with you and by how far back Roan stopped walking, he could tell something was up. Roan pulled out his sword, holding it in the air as Trikru emerged from the trees behind Kane and Clarke and Abby came running in behind you. Abby was clinging onto Clarke as she shouted much like you.

“What is this?” Roan growled out as the men approached him, throwing a look back at you as Abby grabbed your arm as well, trying to hold you back as you fought against her.

“Let me go!” you seethed at her but she refused to let go. Kane shouted, telling everyone there didn’t need to be any violence, but the moment he had, the Trikru men fell with arrows sticking out of them. Abby let you go and you started towards Roan, wanting him to know this wasn’t you, but it was Azgeda’s turn to surprise everyone as they came out of the woods pushing and fighting your people to the ground. “Roan!” you shouted moments before you were forced off your feet, the side of your face shoved into the cold snow as you groaned and tried to pushed yourself back up. Roan turned to look at you, not sparing any help. “This wasn’t me.” You tried to tell him before your hands were pulled behind you and you gave up, realizing the rest of your people did as well.

---

After the ambush, you and everyone else were taken to Polis as prisoners, brought right to their cells and locked in the cuffs. You didn’t fight back, hoping Roan would have a shred of decency and hear you out. Once the grounders cleared out you turned to Abby, putting a fake smile on your face. “So, was getting captured part of the grand plan?”

“Y/N.” Kane started to chastise you before you sent him a glare.

“Don’t even get me started with you.” You snapped and made the already tense atmosphere unbearable. Kane didn’t say anything, realizing you weren’t in a mood to speak kindly.

“Skaikiler.” One of Azgeda’s guards came back inside, heading straight to you and unlocking you from the wall, but binding your hands in rope once again and gagging you. You followed him out, not looking at anyone expect Clarke, knowing she found out when you did. He led you right up to Roan, who looked completely pissed as you walked in and Echo walked out.

“How long have you known?” He asked once you both were alone and he pulled your gag out of your mouth.

You took a deep breath, crossing your arms in front of you. “I just found out, Abby was telling Clarke in the rover, I overheard them when I went back for my jacket.”

Roan looked at you for a moment, remembering how you came running before. “Thank you for trying to warn me.”

“Just be thankful I left my jacket.” You grumbled and held your hands up, motioning to the ties as Roan pulled out his knife and cut you free. “Thanks.” You let the rope fall to the ground before looking up at him. “Their plan sucked, but this doesn’t have to be a war.”

“It already is a war. Your people betrayed me.”

Roan started to walk away before you tugged his arm, keeping him from going far. “But I didn’t!” You reminded him as he looked over his shoulder, knowing you had a point. “Let me go and talk to Indra and Kane. Call a summit, let me talk to the people!”

Considering your offer, Roan shook his head before walking towards you, making you step back out of the small fear. “Fine, but I’m holding your people.”

“Roan.” Your words were pointed as you crossed your arms. “Kane needs to be there and you know it.”

“Your chancellor's lucky he still has his head.” You narrowed your eyes at him before he sighed. “If anyone can convince mortal enemies to move in together, it's you. I'll call for the summit.” Roan passed you, heading out the door and leaving you alone in the room. You let out a groan before leaning against the table, letting your head fall in your hands.

“Well, this is gonna be great.” You said to yourself sarcastically before removing the gag from around your neck and waited for the King to return.

Upon his return the two of you went to the temple, only making you more irritated as you were searched not only once but twice. “If you didn’t find something the first time, what are the odds you’re going to find something the second time?” No one answered you, knowing your question was out of annoyance.

“If I’m not back in an hour, my army will attack.” Roan threatened to a Trikru guard as another searched you. A girl was kneeling on the ground as you and Roan approached.

“You’re Gaia?” you spoke out, interrupting her prayers as Gaia’s eyes opened but she didn’t turn around. You cleared your throat. “I’m-“

“I know who you are.” She interrupted you before standing up, getting a look at you. “Skaikiler.” You averted your eyes, putting a smile on your face to hide.

“I heard you helped my people find the bunker. Thank you.” You told her but she continued to remain unhappy, her glare letting you know this wasn’t going to be as easy as you hoped.

“And your people gave the Flame to an unworthy King who saw it destroyed.” She said and your eyes widened slightly. “For that I am not as grateful.”

Yeah. This was going to be interesting.

“Let’s go see what all the fuss is about.” Roan said and you cleared your throat, meeting his gaze before he started to walk away. You paused, looking back to Gaia to see her stone faced before you followed Roan. You both stood in front of the bunker, looking at the stairs to head down.

“Cozy.” You muttered sarcastically before feeling Roan’s eyes on you and you turned.

“After you.” He said with a smirk and you rolled your eyes jokingly. You did enter first though, finding yourself in the airlock as you took a deep breath. Roan clambered down the ladder behind you as you moved out of the way, waiting until he was off before you entered into the bunker. You were struck by how large it was, and unlike the last bunker you found, how it wasn’t covered with blood and dead bodies. You were almost halfway down the long ramp to the floor, your fingers brushing against the metal grates on the fans attached to the wall before Roan stopped you with a gentle grab on your elbow. You turned to him, but caught sight of Indra coming down a hallway with other grounder men and women behind her. “All my enemies in one place.” Roan grumbled sparing you a glace.

You furrowed your brow as you recognized the war chiefs from your stay at Polis. “Indra was supposed to be alone.” You whispered, meeting Roan’s irritated eyes.

“What fun would that be?” You didn’t say anything as Roan and you finished your walk down and Indra and Roan were immediately at each other’s throats.

They argued back and forth, Indra claiming Roan was only here to make peace because Trikru holds the temple and with Azgeda surrounding the temple, Trikru wouldn’t live to see the inside. It wasn’t until Indra brought up war being inevitable now that Lexa was gone, did you manage to step in and put an end to the argument.

“Stop.” You said as both leaders fell silent, but didn’t back down from their positions. “Praimfaya is in 6 days and that’s the only thing that’s inevitable, alright?” You said looking to Indra as they both turned to you. “Anyone not in this bunker will be dead.”

Indra and Roan both looked at you and you thought they were coming to terms with what you were saying, until a war chief spoke. “Then we should get to it!” She declared, aiming for the prospect of war. You met Roan’s face, realizing you were losing.

“Roan. You know I’m right.” You said, sparing a look of anger to the woman. Roan shook his head.

“We talked.” He began as you stared him down, hoping he’d take your side. “Now we fight.”

“No!” you yelled and grabbed his arm keeping him from walking away. You tried to get them to listen. “1,200 people. This bunker can fit 1,200 people! We can share it and all the clans would survive.” You looked at Indra, swallowing harshly before carrying on. “That’s what Lexa would’ve wanted.”

Indra’s face faltered slightly at the mention of Lexa, but she didn’t give up. “You’re right. And if she were here, the clans might have obeyed her, but seeing as there’s no commander to rule us,” Her speech paused momentarily as she stood directly in front of you. “war it is.”

When it was time to leave the bunker, you fell behind, trying to think of a way to save people. It wasn’t until you saw Gaia did a plan click in your brain.

If they wanted a commander, you’d give them a commander.

Trikru men led Roan outside, clearing out the temple as you slowed down, ultimately finding yourself behind everyone and when the coast was clear, you closed the temple doors with you and Gaia inside.

“What are you doing?” Gaia asked, her brows drawn as she stood away from you.

“I know you have the flame.” You started walking her way, making her backup in fear but you didn’t care. “I know Octavia gave it to you.”

“Leave.” She threatened but you shook your head.

“No. I can’t let this war happen, Gaia.” You told her, stopping in front of her and shaking your head.

Gaia scoffed. “Not you or even Wanheda could stop the clans from killing each other.” She told you, meeting your eyes with a glare.

You licked your lip, raising your brow. “What if I offered you something better than Skaikiler or Wanheda?”

Seeming interested, Gaia motioned for you to continue. “What would you have to offer?”

“Make me the Commander.”

“You?” Gaia asked in distain. “You’re not a Natblida. I won’t have a red-blooded commander-“

Before she could finish the sentence, you reached forward and grabbed her knife. Gaia immediately withdrew another dagger and pointed it your way. You, however, never pointed your stolen blade at her and instead brought it to your palm. Gaia looked on confused as you drug the blade across your skin and you winced slightly at the feeling, but watched as your newly black blood slowly came from the cut. Gaia looked between you and the cut, unaware of the science behind your blood.

“Make me the commander.”

---

Planning their strategies, Roan, Echo, and a few of Roan’s men stood around a table, trying their best to obtain the bunker. They were struggling with their attempts, finding time to be an issue, but their work was cut short at the sound of a horn filling Polis. The room went quiet, everyone turning to the window as Roan quickly walked over.

“The ascension call?” Echo said as she followed Roan and they both saw the fire atop the tower, indicating the rise of a new commander. “The flame was destroyed, how is this possible? You said you saw it.”

Roan nodded his head, brows drawn together tightly in fear. “It was shattered.” He said briefly before his eyes narrowed and he was beginning to catch onto what was happening. “I saw what they wanted me to.”

“A new commander is bad for us.” Echo pointed out needlessly. “Let me stop this ascension, at least until we know who the Natblida is.”

Roan was furious, glaring at the fire sitting brightly atop the tower mocking him. “I know who it is.” He mumbled. He knew of only one person who would take the throne from him with Nightblood. He knew it was you.

---

Gaia stood at the front of the throne room watching as the clans and leaders entered, each one showing faces of confusion and disbelief in the ascension call. Indra snuck behind everyone, managing to stand behind her daughter as she spoke.

“Are you presiding?” Indra asked her in a hush tone, hoping to find out what was happening.

“Yes.” Gaia spoke without turning to face her mother. “The Flame chose me as its protector and our scouts honor that.”

Indra only grew more curious. “Did one of them find a Natblida?” She asked and only received a sharp ‘obviously’ from Gaia in return. Ignoring Gaia’s ignorance, Indra kept pushing. “What clan are they from?” Gaia turned and shot Indra a look, not answering Indra’s questions. “This is highly unusual, Gaia. With no conclave, there are questions to be asked.”

Indra would her answers soon enough as Gaia stepped forwards with plans to continue the ascension. Roan shook his head as Gaia spoke and the ceremony commenced. “Let the commander ascend.” Gaia said before you walked into through the door of the throne room with your head held high.

Immediately, you heard sounds of confusion and disgust from the room as you approached Gaia. “Skaikiler is no Natblida!” Someone shouted from the crowd as Indra stepped up in an outrage.

“What is this?” She demanded to know, but Gaia and you stayed silent. Gaia took your hand and held it over the Flame, previously set in a ritual bowl. Everyone watched on as Gaia brought a knife up and sliced your skin before squeezing your hand, letting your blood cover your hand and hers.

Sounds of shock were heard all throughout the room as people kneeled to you. “The blood of the commanders is your blood.” Gaia said as she dipped her fingers into the mix of sand and blood in the ritual bowl. She brought her hand up to your forehead, making a line down the center as she spoke. “May the spirit choose wisely.”

When Gaia was done, it was your turn. “May the spirit of the Commanders guide me.” You turned around, slowly kneeling on the ground and took a deep breath. You were about to look down before seeing Lexa standing in the crowd behind the scouts. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t even smile. She just watched you kneel there, preparing yourself for the familiar feeling of the Flame in your head. Hearing Gaia approach, you bowed your head, but peaked up to find Lexa gone again.

Gaia cleared the back of your neck from your hair and jacket, letting her see your faded old scar. She brought the Flame up, whispering to it. “Ascende.”  The stems from the Flame revealed itself as you closed your eyes, waiting for the insertion.

“Lies upon lies.” Roan spoke, pulling the attention as your head snapped his way. You hoped he wouldn’t say anything, you needed him to stay silent, but it doesn’t look like he would. He stepped forward, threatening to ruin the ceremony.

“Step out of the sacred circle.” Gaia snarled as she came face to face with the man.

“There’s nothing sacred about this.” Roan told her, looking over her shoulder at you who shook your head. “Skaikiler is making a mockery of our faith.”

Ignoring the murmurs and gasps of the room you stepped forwards. “I’m trying to save everyone, Roan. Praimfaya is in 6 days.”

He just smirked at you. “Then don’t waste our time.” He told you before turning to the door. “Bring in the healer!”

You looked immediately passed him, seeing Clarke and Abby escorted in by Echo and Clarke pushed past people to you. “What are you doing, Y/N?”

“What I have to, to make sure everyone doesn’t go war with each other.” You told her, lowering your voice between the three of you, although you didn’t spare Abby a glance.

“We don’t know if this would work, the Flame could kill you.” It was Abby who spoke up and finally you looked at her, narrowing your eyes and clenching your fists.

“Well, we had another plan.” You reminded her, seeing her advert her eyes. “But you destroyed it.”

“She might’ve saved your life.” Clarke mumbled after having spent the day in the cell with her mom, briefly seeing her point of view.

You scoffed at her, trying to come to terms with what she was saying. “You don’t know that! I could’ve been fine. Everyone could’ve been fine.” You stressed, trying to keep your voice low again as you remembered the dozens of others in the room.

“Enough!” Roan yelled out, making the three of you look at him. Your eyes plead to him, but he refused to look at you. “Tell them, healer, how Skaikiler became a Natblida.”

“Abby.” You whispered, seeing Abby’s head turn slightly towards you. “Please. Don’t.” Abby stayed quiet, her eyes darting back and forth as she tried to decide what to do. She already took away one chance at saving everyone, could she take away another?

“Through science.”

“Clarke!” you gasped in disbelief, not prepared for Clarke to be the one to speak. She turned to you, reaching for your hand but you pulled it out of her grasp. “How could you?”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, never breaking eye contact. “I couldn’t let you put it back in your head, not if we don’t know what will happen to you.”

You stared at her, feeling betrayed before shaking your head. Gaia brought you back to the ceremony as she spoke to Abby. “You made her a Natblida?” Abby nodded.

Roan, smirking at the small success, turned to the crowd of scouts. “If anyone can be a Natblida and take the Flame, then we can no longer trust the blood.”

You heard quite a few declares of agreements as Indra stepped in, looking at you in disappointment before the scouts. “What we can still trust is the sword.” She shouted. “We’ve delayed this war long enough.”

You felt defeated, the one thing you had been trying to prevent all along was happening and you failed. Roan looked at you, seeing your eyes trained to the ground before he stopped himself. “Wait.” He said, getting you to look up and meet his eyes. “Y/N was right about one thing. Fighting a war is a bad way to decide who gets to survive.” You didn’t wait to get your hopes up. Roan was all for a war, there’s no way he’d turn it down now. He faced Indra, standing taller. “You summoned all your scouts here for an ascension, but you left out the best part.”

Indra paused to think before realization struck her. “A conclave.”

Roan nodded, turning to the scouts as his eyes briefly met yours and he smirked. “A final conclave. One champion per clan.” He announced.

You knotted her brows. “One death instead of thousands.” You said, seeing him nod.

“Whoever wins gets the bunker.” He finished. Indra agreed, along with the other clans. You looked around, realizing the other 12 clans were in. Roan made his way to you slowly, listening to the talking of the others as he stood in front of you and Clarke. “Will you fight,” he began pausing as you tried to hide your nerves with a swallow, “or will you burn?”

You turned to Clarke with fear written in both of your eyes, but you knew what had to happen. For your people.

“Skaikru will fight.”

---

“Bellamy!” you shouted as you saw his flop of curly hair jump out of a rover. His eyes immediately darted around, looking for you. His shoulders fell in relief when he saw you running towards him. He dropped the bag in his arms right in time to catch you, feeling your head bury itself in the crook of his neck as his arms held you tight.

“Thank god, you’re okay.” Bellamy mumbled, cradling the back of your head. After the day he’s had, the goodbyes he’d had to make, he wanted nothing more than to hold you and never let you go. He pulled away briefly, only enough to kiss you deeply before you were hugging again.

“A little help?” A man called from the rover as Bellamy and you broke apart. You quickly helped carry the bags from Arkadia into the tower. You never left Bellamy’s side, but you did glace around, looking for your friends you left behind in Arkadia.

“Where’s Jasper?” You asked, not seeing Bellamy’s face fall slowly. “And Monty and Harper?” You felt Bellamy’s hand grab yours as you stopped looking around and finally saw the look on his face.

“Come on.” He said, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side as you walked to the tower. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Bellamy and you spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the rest of the kids back at Arkadia- your friends- staying behind until Praimfaya’s radiation killed them. You couldn’t believe what they were doing. You weren’t even going to get to say goodbye and you just lost more of your family.

“They just gave up?” You whispered as Bellamy and you sat on a couch in the tower alone, your legs draped over his lap as you played with his hands. You couldn’t look away from the wall, finding your emotions too hard to handle and do anything but that. “Did you try and stop them?”

Bellamy stayed silent, making you look at him with wide eyes. “It’s what they wanted.” You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed silent. Bellamy, already feeling guilty over not trying harder, didn’t pressure you to speak. He just focused on your hands and the loose bandages barely wrapped around them. Slowly he unwrapped them, feeling your head rest gently on his shoulder as he looked at the cuts from today. “So, a final conclave?” he asked, looking at you through the corner of his eyes before wrapping your bandage tighter.

You nodded against his shoulder, slowly rising your feet and pulling him with you as you headed out to the balcony. The cold air felt good against your skin as you looked out below. “The whole city is the battlefield.” You told him, feeling him lean over the ledge with you. “No time limit and no guns. Just one warrior from each clan until only one remains.”

Bellamy seemed skeptical. “And the winner takes the bunker, just like that.” You nodded again, groaning as you dropped your head into your hands, feeling Bellamy wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer. “Without guns and without anyone trained in grounder combat, there's no way we can win.” He muttered. You nodded again, both of you falling silent before you lifted your head up, turning to meet his eyes. “What?” He asked, unsure of your change of emotion.

“Lexa trained me in grounder combat.”

His eyes grew wide at your whispers. “No. That’s not an option.” He said before beginning to head back inside but you grabbed his arm.

“Bellamy.” You said, getting him to pause. He hesitated before turning to you, licking his lips out of worry. “We fight or we die.” You reminded him. Bellamy was about to object before you watched him furrow his brows, coming back to look over the ledge. You followed suit, trying to see what he was looking at before seeing a familiar face riding in on a horse. “Octavia?” you whispered, feeling Bellamy grip your hand tighter as he remembered the last he saw of his sister, running away from him for what he had hoped wasn’t forever.

Octavia stopped her horse when two men approached her, her eyes flying up to see you Bellamy looking down at her with two very different expressions. As the men got closer, her attention shifted and she got her mind back on track as she spoke to them. “I’m here for the war.”

---

ALL TAGLISTS CLOSED

Sorry if I forgot anyone! Reblogging with series tags!

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @nathaliabakes @colored-confetti @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @hollymac79 @emcchi @rauwz @chewymoustachio @smilexcaptainx @faith-quake @johnmurphyisqueer @kettnerjanea @teenagereadersciencenerd @ladykxxx08 @annasofiaearlobe @mytreec @ananad1 @agentnataliahofferson @the-unmanaged-mischief @wonderful-writer @theonly1outof-a-billion

Bellamy: @jodiereedus22 @mysterioustruffle @danielabetancourth @a-sweet-little-fangirl @werosies @brxghtlelune @gxvrielle

[simsadventures]

Not Me: Chapter 4: More of This

CEO! Bucky x Wife! Reader

Summary: You finally have enough, and do the thing that you feel like will help you take matters into your own hands. In the meantime, Bucky is finding out things he never knew would be true, and some new issues appear.

Warnings: angst, confusion, swearing

Word Count: 2608

A/N: New chapter is finally here. Again, sorry for the delay, hope some of your questions will be answered after this chapter, and there is sooo much more coming!! Love you all guys!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

A week went by before you were able to function as usual. You and Bucky didn’t share any more moments at home, like the first day of your sickness, and, as a matter of fact, you didn’t even see him that much that week. You assumed he was at work, or at one of his bitches’ place. And you didn’t even care anymore. All you cared about was to finally do something for yourself. You’ve had enough of the abuse your father and Bucky put you through, and you were ready to free yourself.

You still wanted to work at Barnes & Clark, because it was something you’ve always wanted to do, but you knew you would have to give it time before it was even a possibility. So the first logical step was to find a place on your own. You didn’t want to share a living space with James anymore.

And although you haven’t work for some time, you also didn’t spend your own money during the marriage, so you could rent a place on your own without further issues. You knew you would be able to afford only about 6 months of life without a job alone in an apartment in New York, but you were also confident that with your background it couldn’t be that difficult to find another job if Barnes & Clark weren’t an option anymore.

You came across a studio in Brooklyn, and although the location wasn’t the greatest, the apartment itself looked cosy and warm, something you couldn’t say about your current house. You got in touch with the real estate agent, and when she showed it to you, you fell in love with it.

The whole process only took another week, and so it only took around two weeks after the house party for you to start doing your own thing. Bucky was still nowhere to be found, and if you heard him coming home, you scurried to your own room, not really having the energy to fake smiles in front of him anymore. Not when you had such a great plan on your mind.

Your father tried to reach during all that time, but you didn’t want to listen to him anymore. You only picked it up two more times, to listen to him scold you for something he remembered about the party, and whenever he’d ask about you and James, you would say that everything was perfect and that you resolved the issues, naturally, and you were a good wife once again. Just like he liked.

You wanted to tell James, just for the old-time sakes. To tell him that you couldn’t do this anymore and that you wanted a divorce, and that you were moving out. But he was nowhere to be found, and he didn’t pick up his phone. You wanted to be worried, and you would if he didn’t do that for the last 12 months- ignoring you every way he could. So you just sighed and picked up the last boxes on the floor, and marched out of the house, ready to start a new chapter in your life.

Bucky was exhausted. Between doing his normal job, trying to keep the company up and running even in the darker times for the economy, and trying to find any evidence that you were either behind or not involved in the things going on in his life, there was very little me-time he was getting. He rarely even came back home, he would just stay in his office where he used his sofa as a provisional bed. And it showed on his back which was hurting like the devil himself. But he knew he couldn’t stop now.

There were things that needed his attention more than himself. He could get a good sleep when this was all over, one way or another.

Bucky had a board meeting that day, and he honestly couldn’t imagine worse days than that. Board meetings were not only dull as fuck, but Bucky also hated to explain himself for the decisions he made. He knew he made them with the company’s best interest in mind, and even though they sometimes didn’t go as planned, Bucky would all make them again, if he had the chance.

When he came into the room, the board was already there. The board consisted of a few investors that have been with the company for years now, the director of the sales who was there more as moral support to Bucky and then his and your fathers. Even though they were both retired by now, they still held onto some percentage of the interests of the company, and so they were always there at the meetings.

At first, Bucky thought they were there to make sure that Bucky wasn’t doing anything stupid and that he was keeping everything in line. But the more time passed, the more Bucky started to notice that some questions and some ideas coming from your fathers weren’t as straight as Bucky would have wished. But he always ignored it, thinking the dads were just giving him a hard time in those meetings for the sake of it.

The meeting was mostly all about a potential deal they could strike with a Japanese publisher, that would help them distribute their books in Asia as well. Bucky saw it as a huge opportunity and was all in, but the longer the conversations went, the more obvious it was that the fathers weren’t too excited about it.

“We could publish them ourselves. All it takes is for you to grow a pair and decide that we build a publishing house there as well. What are you afraid of, son?” Mr Barnes asked Bucky, who was staring at him as if he just fell out of the sky.

“Because that would take too many resources and we cannot be sure we would do well there. Wouldn’t it be better if we signed a short-term deal with this buyer, we would see how it’d go over there, and if the profits were as great as you think they will, we could do all that? I don’t see a fucking point in building something so fucking expensive when we don’t know if it works or not,” Bucky hissed, clenching his fists under the table.

“Alright, let’s vote, if that’s what you want, son,” your father said with an amused smirk.

Bucky didn’t see the point, and he also didn’t get why suddenly, there had to be a vote. Until now, there was no voting in the board meetings. They would sinus the best approach, agree on something and move on. But voting? That was a first.

“Fine, whatever,” Bucky said tightly and waited. People around the room raised their hands in favour of Bucky’s idea, because, just as Bucky thought, it was the more logical one. But when he looked at the fathers in front of him, he could see that their smirks were still plastered on their faces.

“We don’t do this gladly, but we veto your vote, son. We truly believe that you shouldn’t be so coward-like and do something bold, accept the consequences and just, do something,” Mr Barnes said, and gasps could be heard from all around the room.

“You what? I’m the fucking CEO if I remember correctly. The majority is on my side, you can’t just waltz in here and veto something all of us agree on.”

“Oh, but we can. Haven’t you read the entire contract you signed when we gave you the company? We don’t want to do it, but we still built this company from scratch. And so when we think that you’re leading it to certain death, we step in. And that’s exactly what we just did. We’ll let you think about it, and we meet again next week and see if you all gained some perspective,” your father said, and with that, they both stood up and walked out of the door.

Bucky was staring at their backs, trying to find the right words for what just happened. Not only did he not see the clause in the contract, but he also didn’t see them using it to undermine him in front of everyone. To say he was seething would be the understatement of the century. He let the people in the office go and just sat there, breathing deeply, trying to regain his composure.

When he finally felt like he wouldn’t kill the first person he met on the hall, he got up and marched into his own office, looking for the contract. He wanted to see if there were other clauses like this one that he missed due to the elated state he was in when he first signed it.

He only got through the first two pages of the document before a knock sounded from the door. He didn’t feel like answering it, but he knew that as a CEO (if he even was that) he had to take care of the company, no matter how betrayed or angry he felt.

But when he saw that it was his father again, he regretted ever saying come in.

“Son, don’t be too angry. Just think about what we proposed, and we can talk about it again next week. You wouldn’t want such a thing to run the company? Or worse, the family, would you? Don’t go around being mad at your own dad!” Mr Barnes smiled at his son patting his shoulder, and Bucky just shook his head in response. Bucky was tired of always fighting everyone, so he remained quiet.

“But that’s not why I’m here. New... issue appeared, so it seems. We’ve received another bunch of photos, and there is a new request so that they don’t get posted online,” Mr Barnes said, and Bucky’s blood ran cold, suddenly.

There haven’t been any photos or videos for some time now, and Bucky thought that it was all resolved.

“What is the request this time?” Bucky asked angrily. He couldn’t understand how the same woman who seemed so meek and exasperated at home would be the same one sending him requests through family members.

Bucky’s father pulled out his phone and showed him the photos of his sister, Rebecca in new compromising positions. While she was still heavily using, Rebecca, his sweet, sweet Rebecca made some decisions, which weren’t the greatest, to say the least. She’s been with a man that took photos of her, she’s been at BDSM parties without signing any contracts beforehand, so there were multiple photos and videos of his beloved sister, splayed naked, doing God-knows-what with mostly various men.

Bucky felt physically sick, staring at the photos, and he had to look away.

His father took it as his cue, and he spoke up again.

“This time, your beloved wife wants something much more, I’m afraid. But she also insinuated that if you do this, it would be the last thing she ever asked of you, and she would give us all the materials she had on your sister.”

“So. What. Is. It?!” Bucky accented every word, and not-so-patiently waited for what his father would say next.

“Now, she wants to have a baby with you. She wrote that she’s been thinking about it for some time and that she thought a baby would make her happy. She said that right after the party she thought it could save your relationship, and she was probably scheming the whole thing in the meantime,” his father said, and when Bucky didn’t reply, he got up.

“Just do this, and your sister§s reputation will be clean. We can buy the information the other people have of her, and she will finally be free of all of this. Be a good son, a good brother, and just sleep with your wife. But remember, don’t ever talk about it with her. She’s crazy enough to actually post everything if you ever talked to her about this deal she stroke with us,” and with that Mr Barnes left Bucky’s office.

Bucky’s brain couldn’t wrap around the whole thing. In the year of your marriage, you proved to be a vial person, through the point of view of your fathers and the image they were providing to Bucky.

But, suddenly, something didn’t seem to add up to the whole story. Bucky saw you at home. You were seriously sick with the flu, and he could see that you couldn’t even watch Netflix because of how tired you were. Even when you didn’t see him, he would check up on you just to be sure you didn’t die from the fever. And you were always asleep. So when did you have the time to think about something so stupid as a child? Especially after the fight you two had in the kitchen the night of the party.

Bucky didn’t waste any more time and headed home. He was resolved to confront you, even if it meant you would publish some photos of Becca. Bucky needed answers, and he needed them now!

He practised the speech he wanted to give you the whole ride home, changing words and whole sentences not to make you too mad and to try and talk to you about your reasoning behind all of this. If you didn’t demand the marriage year prior, and if you didn’t do it through your fathers, Bucky actually thought you two could strike up some romance.

He thought about it all as he opened the door, but upon coming to the living room, he could sense that something has changed. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but the longer he stood in the room, the more it seems as if everything changed there.

And then it hit him. Some of the things you brought there were gone. The fluffy pillows you loved so much, and you would always cuddle them when you were watching something on TV in the living room as if to shield yourself from the outside world.

Your old coffee cups your grandma gave you a few years ago were also gone. Bucky almost ran through the whole apartment, finding things missing, and he was on the verge of calling the police that there was a robbery in his house, when he came into your room.

It was empty except for a piece of paper sitting on the bed.

Bucky took one last glance around and grabbed the paper, unfolding it to read what the person writing had to say.

Dear James,

I know you don’t care one bit about my whereabouts, but I felt like I should at least tell you that I’m not dead. I called you a few times today, but just like any other times, you didn’t pick up. I know you hate me, and although I can’t figure out why, I just wanted to tell you that I finally moved out. The house is all yours, and you can bring anyone there, like Natasha, for example. I don’t care anymore. I can’t act like I’m a happy housewife when every day in that house was pure hell for me. So I’m gone from your life, and I will file for divorce in the next few days. Please, just be so kind as to sign it when it comes and don’t make our lives even more miserable than they already are. I hope we will be able to find a way for me to work at the company because I miss it terribly. I miss working, I miss being independent.

Take care.

Sincerely

Y/N

/ Next Chapter >

Not Me:

@jennmurawski13​ @lovely-geek​ @vogueworthy-barnes​ @veronawrites​ @loser-alert​ @trumpettay​ @thesoldierrogers​ @girlbehindthecameraposts​ @little-smurf​ @jesseswartzwelder​ @fuckwhateverfuck​ @learisa​ @karla-silva​ @blowing-mikey​ @afterlaughter27 @93generation​ @ungratefultroll​ @maybeisthemoon​ @greenprisca​ @geeksareunique​ @champagnesugamama​ @hailqueenconquer​ @grincheveryday​ @mc225g​ @thatweirdwalangpake​ @neerness​ @ntlmundy​ @captainchrisstan​ @sspider-parker​ @cap-just-said-language​ @nd1998sc​ @cltex84​ @eliza5616​ @clearlysaltybeard​ @joannie95​ @angel-of-blue​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @rohaintahquil​ @ilovemysupersoldiers​ @xbuckxnastyx​ @jemimah-b99​ @imcreepininyourheartbabe​ @welovecaptainamericaass​ @void-imaginations​ @what-is-your-plan-today​ @nikishadow​ @ariesmadness97​ @sarcastic-and-cool​ @asiaaisa77​ @supermassiveblackhope​ @fifiyau105​ @littlemissporter​ @yanderedarkfics​ @inquisitor-selvala​ @onl-you​

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten​ @paradisiacalsparks​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @owlyannah​ @lassini​ @s-trawberryv-eins​ @reniescarlett​ @bxrnsfeyson​ @the-soulofdevil​ @haru-ririchiyo​

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @lumar014​ @ptrs-prkrs​

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​ @sasbb23​ @p8tn0lish​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @waiting4inspiration​ @caswinchester2000​ @mogaruke​ @justthatfangirloverthere​ @mushyjellybeans​ @livsheph​ @sebbbystaaan​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @itsunclebucky​ @rinkashirikitateku​ @leosandbuckysgirl​ @miraclesoflove​ @keithseabrook27​

[margoshansons]

Desperate Measures: 18/?

MASTERLIST

Summary: Y/N comes back to camp, where several people are waiting to welcome her. But she can’t stay long, especially with Finn and Murphy out there. Bellamy doesn’t take too kindly to a figure from Y/N’s past.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of a massacre, swearing, guns, death.

Notes: MY BOY DESERVES FUCKING BETTER JROTH! Anyway, I decided y’all needed some healing after that last episode so please enjoy this long chapter filled with plenty of Bellamy/YN. 

If any of you guys ever need to talk about 7x13 and what happened, I’m always here for you. Based on 2x05 “Human Trials”

***

Her breath threatened to betray how strained she felt from the walk to Factory Station and back. She clutched Monroe closer to her. The two women, suffering from similar wounds, leaning on each other for support as they struggled to cross the last few meters.

Her side split in pain, legs buckling underneath the weight of Monroe on her shoulders. She thought she could feel the stitches in her leg come undone.

“They’re back!” Someone shouted as they collapsed against the grassy fields, Octavia relieving the weight by taking Monroe off her hands. Y/N raised herself up, leaning against Bellamy for support.

“I’ve got you sparky.” He whispered, a reassuring smile on his face. Y/N couldn’t find it in her to berate him about the nickname. Her energy cells were depleted, and her leg was ready to bust open. “You’re going to be okay,”

Her balance was thrown off by a body colliding into her, disbelief erupting in her body as she removed her arms from Bellamy’s neck to her long lost friend. The blonde curls impedeing her vision confirmed her theory. Clarke was home.

Clarke was safe.

“You’re okay” She murmured through tears threatening to escape her, voice breaking, “You’re alive.”

She felt Clarke’s smile against her shoulder, “I thought I’d never see you again,” The blonde murmured, tightening her embrace, not ready to let go.

“Neither did I.”

When the two women let go, Clarke shared another tight embrace with Bellamy and Y/N felt herself almost plowed over by another body colliding with hers.

“Holy shit you’re actually alive,”

Her heart almost stopped when she heard the voice in her ear, hands running through the dirty blonde waves that had once been so familiar to her.

She pulled away, unable to believe who she was seeing. “Kyle?” Her voice broke as she said his name for the first time since solitary.

“Hey Sparky,” Wick’s eyes glazed over before pulling her back in for a hug, arms tightening once again around her waist as she buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his familiar frame, “I missed you,” He whispered in her hair.

She pushed herself away, wrestling herself out of his stupidly strong grip. “Hey,” she spoke through unshed tears, voice thick with emotion, “Feelings are dumb remember?”

He let out a chuckle and she forgot how much she missed hearing him laugh. “Right,” Wick replied, pulling her inward toward his side, “Feelings are stupid.”

She let out a similar chuckle before a cough threw them out of their reunion. Y/N locked eyes with Bellamy, her throat constricting as nerves jumped upward at the thought of them meeting. This was going to be awkward.

***

Bellamy curled his lips at the sight of the taller guy holding Y/N so close to him, and he didn’t really like the anger stirring within his stomach as he caught the looks they gave each other.

Not that he had any claim over her, but he thought they were headed toward something at least.

“Who’s this?” He asked, trying to keep the irritation from leaking through his voice.

Y/n swallowed before plastering a bright smile on her face, “This is Wick, he was my partner in engineering on the Ark.”

“In more ways than one.” Wick remarked, garnering a playful snort and a smack across the chest from Y/N.

Bellamy nodded, hoping the white hot rage deep in his gut wasn’t visible to everyone the way he thought it was. What the hell did he mean? Who was he to talk about her that way?

“Anyways,” Y/N continued, gesturing toward him, “This is Bellamy, he’s my…”

He swallowed as she creased her eyebrows, struggling to find a way to define their relationship. “He’s my co-leader.” She settled on, and he tried to ignore the way his shoulders seemed to deflate at the sound of the term. He had hoped they were something more.

He wanted to be something more.

Didn’t she?

“Nice to meet you man.” Wick offered his hand out, which Bellamy took for the sake of being polite. “Y/N’s told me all about you, you know before Councilor Sydney went all batshit and crashed the exodus ship.”

“Wait?” Y/N asked, “That was her? That makes so much more sense.”

Wick nodded, wanting to continue talking. Bellamy was grateful for Clarke’s interjection.

“We can play catch-up later” She announced, turning back toward Bellamy and Octavia, “Where’s Finn?”

He saw the hope in her eyes die as Bellamy uttered those three words. “Looking for you.”

Clarke stepped back, ready to launch into a series of questions about what had transpired until a gasp of pain coming from Y/N’s mouth tore them from their conversation.

“Y/N?” Wick’s trembling voice came from Bellamy’s side, the two boys rushing forward to catch her as her leg buckled “Hey, Sparky can you hear me?” Bellamy shoved down his irritation at the use of the nickname and focused on Y/N’s smaller frame. 

“Come on,” He urged, pulling her into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, almost fading out of consciousness from how hard she had walked. His breathing increased rapidly, heartbeat pounding against his ribs as they made their way to the med tent, Bellamy’s gaze never leaving hers.

If they had he would’ve caught the look of realization crossing Clarke and Wick’s faces.

***

For the first time in a very long time, Y/N actually felt somewhat normal. Her leg was hardly bothering her anymore and she could actually move it without worrying too much about any extra pain.

“Hey Sparky,” A familiar voice called beside her, and she smiled in relief as she realized that her reunion with Wick hadn’t been a dream.

“Hey Kyle,” She moaned as she pulled herself up, the lack of sleep over the past few days finally catching up to her. “Where’s everybody?” She asked through a yawn as she gazed around the medical walls surrounding her. She drew her eyes to the gaping hole in her jeans as she ran her fingers down the perfectly neat stitches, the other hand embracing Kyle’s. “How did I get here?”

“Bellamy Blake,” Wick responded, the slightest smirk on his face as he leaned back, releasing his grip on her hand, “You know I think he really cares about you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, shifting her weight so her legs hung off the table, ready to jump to the ground. “I’m not doing this now.”

“Hey, you were the one who wanted me to come down to help with this situation.” Wick brought up, and she groaned, her feet slapping the floor as she remembered their conversation from long ago.

“I hate that you remembered that.” She uttered, able to walk better than usual. Her eyes glanced around until they fell on a pile of clothes not that far away.

Wick stood up to follow her, “I remember a lot of things, like how Jackson said that you shouldn’t spend anymore time on that leg until it’s fully healed.”

Y/N scoffed, ripping off her tank to replace it with a grey thermal from the pile. Wick’s eyes lingered on her torso, eyebrows shooting themselves up into an arch.

“You gonna stop staring or do I have to close that mouth of yours myself?” She teased, the familiar flirtation sending something uncomfortable ripping through her. 

She hated this feeling. 

She hated the fact that even having Wick here was bringing these memories back.

She hated that it wasn’t Bellamy she was trading innuendos with.

Y/N ignored the smirk spreading across Kyle’s face as he leaned back, “You were the one who broke things off, so just remember that when you want some of this.” He defended, gesturing to his body.

She threw her head back and cackled, the sound freeing her from some of the responsibility she had been shouldering since she came down.

It was true what they said.

Laughter really was the best medicine.

“You come all this way to try and rekindle something Wick?” She used his last name, knowing it was less intimate. First names meant something to them, they didn’t just throw it around because they could.

“Actually I’m here to check on you,” His eyes flickered to her bare legs as she pulled on a new pair of jeans, lacing up her boots as she turned to face him. “And to tell you that your friends are planning on going after the two you left behind.”

Finn and Murphy.

They were still out there and Clarke was back home.

As if sensing her confusion, Wick continued to explain, “The council’s cutting them loose, Raven and I are helping you guys sneak out.”

Y/N bit her cheek mirthlessly, “Great, when do we leave?”

The medical flap opened, revealing Raven standing there with a brace surrounding her bum leg, a duffel bag of rifles around her shoulder as she handed Y/N a pistol. “Now.”

***

Bellamy failed to hide his surprise upon meeting Raven and Y/N at the electric fence, the latter in fresh clothes with a pistol strapped to her side.

“I don’t like you coming with us.” He muttered, shifting his gaze between the two women.

“It’s a shame I don’t listen to you then.” She smirked, handing him a rifle as the pitter patter of footsteps rounded the corner.

Clarke smiled at the two of them, “Nice to see that not everything has changed.”

Bellamy scoffed, hiding the pleasure he felt at the idea of Y/N accompanying them on their journey. He liked her company, and he knew Clarke wouldn’t leave without several stashes of gauze and painkillers on her.

Octavia’s wild braids made an appearance and determination crossed her face. “I’m not letting you leave here without me.”

“Octavia--” Y/N moved before getting cut off by the other girl.

“Finn and Murphy are headed for Lincoln’s village,” She brought up, the argument clearly practiced, “I’ve been there, have you? Have they?” She threw a pointed look at Bellamy and Clarke before Y/N pulled out a pack.

“I was going to say I know.” She smirked, the two girls sharing a smile before Octavia moved forward.

“Whoa,” Raven drew her cane in front of his sister, “Not so fast Pocahontas.” Her cane touched the fence, electricity sparking and crackling as the five of them jumped back.

“I thought you said it was handled,” Bellamy growled.

“It is” Y/N spoke up, raising a radio to her mouth uttering three simple words. “Shut it down Wick.”

She handed the radio to Raven, and Bellamy once again tried to get a hold on the anger raging inside him at the thought of Y/N and Wick spending time together while he was out petitioning to save their friends.

He hadn’t been there for her. Not like Bellamy had,

The next time the cane touched the fence, nothing happened. And he supposed he had Wick to thank for that.

He sighed as they snuck out, barely catching the look Clarke gave him and Y/N as they shuffled forward behind Octavia, footsteps matching each other.

***

Bellamy shifted uncomfortably on the log, eyes locking onto Octavia’s sleeping frame, a small tug at his lips recalling everything the two had been through. Clarke slept a few beats away, curled up next to the flames, blonde hair splayed out on the grass beside him. He was grateful to have her back. Having her around made things so much easier.

When his eyes flitted to Y/N’s blanket, he perked up in worry, the pack abandoned on the forest floor as he looked around, searching anxiously for his co-leader, his friend, his...something.

“Relax,” Her soft voice answered, footsteps settling next to him before she sat down next to him, her body warming him more than any fire ever could. “I was just scouting the area,” She waved her pistol before holstering it in her pants like he once did, letting him know that she was armed and ready to defend herself.

He let out a sigh of relief before turning his gaze beside him, eyes scanning her illuminated features. She stared out at the fire before him, ponytail drifting over her shoulders as she leaned forward, elbows against her knees.

“Did you mean what you said?” He swallowed his nerves, ready to get an answer to the question that had been plaguing him since the day she got shot. “Back at the dropship, before we got seperated. Did you have feelings for me?”

He watched her shoulders tense at the question, and he knew he had taken it a step too far. They were in the middle of a war, they shouldn’t be talking about this. They shouldn’t be focusing on this, but he needed to know.

“Yes.” She breathed, eyes flickering to his mouth, “I do have feelings for you. Murphy was right.”

His chest exploded at the confirmation, nerves evaporating into relief as it pumped through his veins. 

“That’s a relief.” He joked to ease the tension, “I was afraid I had to beat Murphy if it wasn’t true.” She chuckled, the hushed laughter sending his chest pounding with pride. “Maybe I’ll beat him anyway.” He continued, his lips tugging involuntarily. “Just for kicks.”

“You should cut him some slack,” Y/N spoke up, surprising both of them before letting out a yawn “Even he and I have something in common.”

It was Bellamy’s turn to chuckle, “You should get some sleep,” He brushed a piece of hair that had fallen loose aside, pushing it behind her ear as he examined her beautiful face again, the touch sending shivers down his spine.

“So should you.” She pointed out, hands brushing themselves across the wrinkles in his forehead.

He couldn’t keep the adoring smile off his face, wanting nothing more than to press his lips against hers right then and there, to take her in his arms and forget the rest of the world existed. She made him want to be better.

She made him want to live.

“I’ll sleep when we find Finn,” He said, shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind as he remembered his own reality. “I knew what they were capable of, and I let him and Murphy leave with two automatic rifles.”

“We let them leave.” Y/N reminded him, grasping his hand in hers, drawing his gaze toward her intertwined digits. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

His gaze moved up her arm, meeting her exposed neck until it finally landed on her soft lips, and the desire to kiss her had never been greater until that moment.

It seemed so perfect.

The gap was almost nonexistent.

Inching closer and closer--

“I’m sure it was just like the dropship,” Clarke’s trembling voice rang through the fire, tearing the two apart. “It had to be done.”

Bellamy nodded slightly before shifting his gaze to the fire, one final question lingering on his mind. “How long until chocolate cake turns into being hung upside down and drained for their blood?” His voice shook, as if he couldn’t handle the truth. As if one wrong move would topple him.

“I don’t know” Clarke admitted, sitting up, “But we don’t have much time.”

Y/N nodded with him, “First we find Finn,” She chimed in, “And then we rescue our friends in Mount Weather.”

“And Lincoln.” Octavia announced, everyone finally awake. “Think we’ve slept long enough.” The rest of the group agreed.

“I’ll go find us some water to extinguish the fire.” Y/N announced, tearing herself out of Bellamy’s grasp to enter the darkened forest.

“She’s good for you Bellamy.” Clarke told him as soon as Y/N was out of earshot.

Bellamy nodded, ‘She’s good for all of us.” He said instead, ignoring the knowing look on Clarke’s face. “I don’t think any of us would’ve survived if she hadn’t been on that dropship.”

“You got that right.” Octavia snickered, a soft smile on her face as she caught the look in her brother’s eyes. “We got lucky.” She said.

Bellamy nodded, sending a look in the direction she had disappeared in. “Really lucky,” He murmured to himself.

***

“We’re almost there.” Octavia announced, continuing her way through the endless amounts of trees, “Once we reach the statue it’s only another kilometer or two.”

Y/N creased her eyebrows in confusion, she tilted her head as she linked eyes with Bellamy.

Statue?

Were there remnants of Old Earth that had survived the bombs?

Her question was answered once they stepped deep into a clearing, the dirt path stretching before them, but Y/N’s eyes were trained on a vine covered monument above her, a brief moment of awe crossing her face before a sob pulled her back to reality.

“The reapers came from there.” Octavia spoke, tears falling down her face, “I couldn’t save him Bell, I couldn’t save him.”

Bellamy pulled Octavia close, reassuring her that they would find Lincoln again and he would make sure of it. Y/N shuffled closer to Clarke, glad to have her with them as they traversed forward.

“I recognize this statue,” the blonde announced, “He was a great peacekeeper before the cataclysm.” Clarke and her stared up at the statue once again, letting Bellamy and Octavia have their moment. “I destroy my enemies by making them friends.” Clarke whispered, and Y/N tilted her head, not recognizing the quote. “It was quote of his. One that I think we need to implement.”

“How you reach the goal matters.” Y/N told herself, realizing what Clarke was hinting at, “You wanna seek peace with the grounders?” She asked, knowing it was the most logical conclusion.

Clarke nodded, “Their people are in the mountain too. We need--”

Shots rang out, pulling the foursome back to reality as they raced toward the village, hoping they weren’t too late.

They scrambled down the man-made path, dirt roads and statues forgotten as their eyes graced the horror awaiting them at the grounder village. A burnt farm crumbled at their side, blood poured onto the streets and a man with a face tattoo released a guttural scream to the sky. 

They scrambled down the hill, and Y/N’s gaze went to Murphy, whose gun was slung behind him. She turned her eyes to Finn, smoke rising from the barrel of his rifle.

She leaned down next to Octavia, examining the warrior--no, the child bleeding onto the pavement beneath him.

Beside her, the sobbing man closed the child’s eyes whispering one phrase. “Yu gonplei ste odon*.”

Behind her, Finn’s crazed eyes were locked onto Clarke’s whispering a phrase of his own.

“I found you.”

***

That night her mind refused to sleep, replaying the massacre over and over, recalling the final words the man with the face tattoo had spoken to that child, the screams that followed. She couldn’t get them out of her head, and when she slept they only made things worse.

She wanted Miller here.

She wanted him to steal moonshine and tell her that things were going to be okay, to cheer her up with his awful jokes and play games together as they spilled secrets they wouldn’t whisper to anyone else.

Pulling herself out of bed, she shoved the flap of her tent open, wind rushing against her exposed legs, not caring about who saw her. His tent was close enough to hers.

No one would question it.

Especially what remained of the hundred.

Warm light flooded the room, almost blinding her as she stormed into Bellamy’s tent, the brunette rushing his hands through his hair. She suspected his mind was doing the same thing.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Was all he asked, eyes widening.

She shook her head and he gestured toward his own bed, she moved in next to him, the last of the oil in the lamp burning out as she pressed her body against his, relishing in the warmth they gave each other.

***

A/N: IT FINALLY HAPPENED!!!! Our babies are together at last! I debated about changing it so it happened much later, but after tonight I think we all could use some romance in our lives, especially with Bellamy Blake. 

DM Taglist (closed): @chloe-skywalker​ @im-a-writer-right​ @clarkewithameme​ @shatteredlovesick​ @your-typical-giggle​ @rhyxn​ @amongthewildthingss​ @furiouspockettoad​ @niammain​ @cxddlyash​ @lena-davina @kaylinfayezink​ @gingerxarmy​ @super-marvel-dale​ @travelnottogoanywherebuttogo​ @nerdbookish​ @valeskasecco @strangerliaa​ @simsvetements​ @molethemollie​ @thebookisbtr​ @im-a-stranger-thing​ @jordangdelacruz​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @multifandombookstore​ @okj232 @asian-male-enthusiast​ @minigranger​ @jooheonbee​ @libraryoffandomsuniverse​ @pancakefancake​ @weird-pale-blonde-person​

[fistsandfangs]

lost and found

A fantasy au wherein alec is a guardian angel, magnus is a demon who makes deals, and maybe they’re not as different as they think.

written as a gift for @ladymatt for the malec secret santa 2020

As the flames at Magnus’ feet die out, he takes in his surroundings inquisitively. Beneath his boots are tentative chalk lines, thin and light in places, that connect into a pentagram drawn on a cracked cement floor. The room he is in is vast and all but empty, with high ceilings and exposed metal beams. A warehouse, most likely; the kind of place a human might deem a safe, neutral location for a demon summoning. As he turned to his left, a woman, young in years but with a heaviness weighing on her that belied her age, was staring at him from a few feet away with a tattered hardback journal clutched in one hand.

“You called me,” he stated, standing a few steps away from the barrier line. “I assume that because you did the summoning correctly and seem…prepared, that you know what it is that I do.”

She looked almost startled at being addressed, but the expression lasted only a moment before she held it back with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. “I know what I’m doing,” she asserted, though her voice wavered slightly.

After analyzing the detailing of the pentagram, Magnus touched the tip of his boot to a symbol that had been incorrectly drawn. “It’s an impressive work, but I would suggest you study a bit more next time. This right here…leaves an opening.”

Now the woman looked terrified, frozen in place with her arms encircling her middle protectively.

With a slightly sardonic chuckle, he shook his head. “If I was going to hurt you, I wouldn’t have pointed out your error.” He stepped closer to the edge line, closer to her. “After all, you wish to make a deal, yes? Which means you have something I would be happy to take. I don’t want to ruin that opportunity for myself just yet.”

read on ao3

For a moment, he just looked at her, observing. She had very short hair, so blonde it was practically white, and deep brown, almost black, eyes. Her pupils were almost swallowed up by the darkness of the iris. There was a small smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and dusting the tops of her cheeks, looking oddly childlike in the midst of her worn features. He was well-versed in reading humans after all these centuries, and he could see in her an authenticity that caught his attention. “What’s your name?”

“Alana. Alana Clarke. And I want to make a deal.”

“Well then,” Magnus began, steepling his fingers thoughtfully, “tell me, to what do I owe this summons?”

“I…have something I want to forget.” Her voice wavered slightly on the last word.

“Someone,” Magnus stated in realization. “A deal with me requires specificity, Ms. Clarke.”

It took a moment before she hesitantly elaborated further. “My husband. He was…cold. And unable to love, in the end. I never felt like I could leave him. One day, he snapped and I…I didn’t have a choice. I can’t let the memory of him control my life anymore. I can’t bear to let him change me the way I’m afraid he might.”

Rubbing his fingers together contemplatively, he replied, “That is a very serious choice to make. And one that cannot be undone. As luck would have it, it would be quite easy for me to give you what you’re asking for, but it has a steep price. And not just your soul. Are you certain this is what you want?”

Her silence was only too telling.

With a firm shake of his head, Magnus took a step back. “You must be sure. I am neither judge nor jury; I will only carry out what our deal entails. I urge you strongly to consider this. Memory cannot just be given and taken on a whim. Once I remove it, it will be permanent.”

Alana shook her head with a tired sigh. “I just… I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe, I can’t think… I don’t know how to go on without doing something. I—” Abruptly cutting herself off, she stood up a little straighter and schooled her expression into a carefully curated stoicism. “I have to take the responsibility, and I will.”

It had been a long while since someone with such conviction had come to Magnus like this. Often, those who summoned him didn’t understand the gravity of the situation they were making for themselves, but it was their mistake to make. This time, somehow, he couldn’t bear the thought of allowing her to follow them down that path of regret lurking in the future.

“For your benefit, I will not yet make the deal,” he began. “I require certainty, and I do not see that in you. I’m going to give you another opportunity to think very carefully about just what is worth the price of your soul before you sign it over to me.”

**

The next time Magnus found himself standing in the ash and last embers of unholy flame in the middle of the old warehouse, the person standing opposite him was not Alana Clarke.

Instead, it was a tall, dark haired man with a stern look on his face, standing stock-still with his hands behind his back. He was not entirely mortal, nor human, Magnus realized upon observing the presence of spiritual matter along the lines of his shoulders and down his spine. It also wasn’t lost on him that the man had a blade made of adamas tucked away inside the folds of his jacket. It was an ancient kind of weapon, not only priceless but rare.  

The pentagram Magnus was standing on was far more detailed than the one that Alana had used to summon him, rooted in much stronger magic. The kind of magic that could only be infused by a summoner of great power. “I’m impressed,” he mused, turning in place to observe the rest of the finer detail.

“You made a deal with Alana Clarke,” the man stated coolly, as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “For her soul. And you’re going to have to rescind.”

Magnus couldn’t help but be amused by the situation. “Demon-client confidentiality prevents me from discussing any of this with you, I’m afraid.” But his curiosity was piqued. Especially when he realized that the faint smell of angel blood had permeated the air around them.

Angel blood.

“Of course, I should have realized immediately.” He stepped up to the edge line of the pentagram to look closer. “Which one of Raziel’s guardians are you?”

A soft sigh of exasperation preceded one word: “Alexander.”

“‘Defender of man’, yes? Seems fitting.” If he didn’t know better, Magnus would have said that Alexander preened almost imperceptibly at his words. “And Alana is in your care. Interesting, given the fact that she sought me out.”

The shadows of tenderness that had lingered on Alexander’s face for mere seconds at the mention of her name disappeared altogether as his expression clouded over. “She never should have summoned you. Her grief has blinded her, so I have to be the one to protect her.”

“You almost believed that when you said it.” Magnus of all people knew what lying to oneself looked like. “The truth is, it kills you that you can’t save her from this grief. Your purpose is to protect her, but there are limits to what you can control, and now you have to face them.”

“You can’t undo the past,” Alexander countered, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes in consternation. “And that’s what she truly wants. Whatever you offer her, it won’t be enough.”

“You know what she went through. You know how greatly she mourns—both for what she lost and what was never hers to begin with. There’s no price too steep for peace that can heal that kind of devastation.”

The angel visibly gritted his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping as it flexed. “Rip up the deal and give her soul back.” The slow cadence he spoke with betrayed the anger that he was sealing away inside.

“It might interest you to know that no official contract exists yet. Ms. Clarke hasn’t made her choice, so if you have concerns, you should take them to your charge herself.”

The anger stoked by Magnus’ words became increasingly apparent in Alexander, and he rolled his neck to the side slightly as if trying to shake free of something. “I won’t ask again.” When Magnus offered no reply, he took a few steps back from the pentagram. “Well, you’re welcome to rot here until you change your mind, then.”

If he were a different person, if circumstances were trivial, he would enjoy an indulgent show of his own strength. As it were, Magnus only gloated a little as he stepped over the brusque chalk line meant to confine him. “I have no plans to do any such thing.”

Alexander was speechless, his mouth slightly agape as Magnus moved towards him. “That isn’t possible. No lesser demon can—”

Reaching out with a dark red tendril of magic, Magnus held him still. “Pleased to meet you, Alexander. My name is Magnus Bane, reigning Prince of Edom and son of one of the First Hierarchy—a Knight of Hell.” When their faces were mere inches apart, he offered the faintest of smiles. “Ms. Clarke has sought my protection now, so I suggest you don’t try to interfere again.”    

**

The air in the Hunter’s Moon was thick with the scent of stale alcohol and sweat-slicked bodies, and Magnus relished it. Perhaps it was the hedonistically human part of him, but there was something magnetic about the raw electricity of bodies pressed flush against one another beneath the hot lights.

His attention was diverted, however, when he noticed the man who had just walked in and was making his way to the bar. Alexander stood out in a crowd even when he was dressed down, wearing a grey Henley and jeans.

With a subtle gesture, Magnus caught the eye of a bartender gathering empty glasses abandoned on a nearby table. “The man who just walked in—make him a Vieux Carre.” A neatly folded hundred-dollar bill materialized between his thumb and middle finger, and he offered it to her.

The woman’s bracelets made a delicate jingling sound as she plucked it from his grasp. “He looks intense. Ex of yours?”

With a chuckle, he brushed his thumb tenderly against her chin for a fleeting moment. “Discretion, Maia.”

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Courtesy of?”

“An associate.”

Despite looking thoroughly unconvinced, Maia pocketed the money and Magnus raised his drink to her in gratitude.

“An olive branch?” Alexander guessed a few minutes later, setting his glass down on Magnus’ table.

“Actually, it’s a black cherry garnish.” Magnus plucks the fruit from his glass and takes a bite of the tender flesh. “I figured a drink would be a good icebreaker.”

Alexander dropped down into the chair opposite him. “You don’t look surprised to see me here.”

“You’ve been following me on and off all day, angel. What am I meant to be surprised about?”

His expression darkens, his eyebrows drawn tightly together in consternation. “We haven’t struck an accord yet.”

Shaking his head faintly, Magnus downed the last of his Negroni. “There is nothing to negotiate. You have no claim on the contract between me and my client.”

“She is going to do this if I do not put a stop to it.” Rather than the burn of anger or the cold of hatred, Alexander looked pained to be saying those words. “I want to make a deal.”

Whatever he had been expecting Alexander to say, that certainly wasn’t it. Magnus sat in stunned silence for a beat. “Just to be clear… You want to give me your eternal soul to release Alana Clarke from a contract that she implored me to honor?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t know what he was agreeing to, and yet there was a fierce determination on his face that almost made Magnus wish that it were possible. “Let’s do it.”

“It is not possible, Alexander,” Magnus said somberly. His tone had gone soft despite himself. The desperation in the guardian’s eyes made something in his chest begin to ache. “Even if you did have a soul as the mortals do.”

It almost looked as though the faintest hint of vulnerable desperation was beginning to shine through the cracks of his façade. Instead, with a grunt of frustration, Alexander pushed back from the table and crossed his arms. “She is under my protection, Magnus.”

“In a manner of speaking, she’s under mine too.”

“If you control Edom, why even spend your time making deals for souls? Isn’t that beneath you?” he retorted heatedly.

“It’s not about the souls. It never has been,” Magnus found himself saying. It had never been in his nature to be transparent, and frankly he had never had a reason to try. The way that Alexander wore his feelings so genuinely compelled him to reciprocate. “The lesser demons who skulk around crossroads and manipulate the avaricious and covetous do so by nature. I choose the worthy summoners, the ones who want nothing more or less than resolution, and offer them peace.”

Staring down into his glass, Alexander heaved a sigh of frustration. “Indulging their emotions is not the same as protecting them.”

“That depends on who you are protecting them from, hmm?”

Something in those words seemed to reach Alexander in a way that nothing else between them had. His shoulders hunched wearily, as though a great burden had been dropped and left foregone. “I don’t know,” he surrendered.

**

Thunder rattled the window panes of the penthouse as the storm outside grew stronger, and Magnus could feel the glass shivering beneath his fingers where they were pressed on either side of Alexander’s body. They were both mostly clothed, but where their bare skin touched, it felt like fire. Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the otherwise darkened living room, so Magnus used the cacophony of harsh exhales and soft moans to guide his movements.

It had to be the most profane act, because it felt like salvation.

“Nnnnh,” Alexander moaned, reaching up for Magnus’ hands blindly and intertwining their fingers.

More or less restrained, Magnus put more power into the movement of his hips. It was an inexplicable desperation that had led them to this, and now it was boiling in his blood and driving him forward.

The pleasure crested, and for one perfect moment, everything felt simple—they were just two people who found relief in wanting one another. That was how they had ended up here, after all; a categorically innocuous moment had somehow set Magnus’ skin on fire with how greatly he yearned to touch him, and everything between them had unraveled before he could do anything but follow in its wake.

For weeks the tenacious guardian had been nothing but a thorn in his side, but then all at once, something changed and Magnus could no longer remember how to simply dislike him. Perhaps he put too much stock in his heart—or whatever the son of a Greater Demon was capable of containing—to ever stay free of falling prey to the way of the mortal world. All he knew now, though, was that he felt dread like an ache in his chest at the unavoidable truth that Alexander would leave.  

“Don’t leave,” Magnus whispered breathlessly in Alexander’s ear. “You can stay the night. I want you to.”

In reply, Alexander nodded and pressed an almost reticent kiss to his lips. “I’ve already crossed the line, what’s another step?” Even pressed together in such an achingly intimate embrace, there was a hesitance in him. Perhaps he was telling himself this was a big mistake, and he would hate Magnus in the morning.

It wouldn’t be the first time, at least, so he would drink away the pain in the evening and be remade again in the morning.

Already in a sloppy state of undress, they both peeled off their remaining layers of clothing and let them fall in a heap on the bedroom floor before crawling beneath the sheets. Magnus had slept alone for so long that his heart twisted in his chest at the feeling of a warm body beside him.

Once Magnus had settled into the mattress and was lying still, Alexander slid his foot between Magnus’ calves and pressed their bodies closer. His hands were more diffident in their movements, slowly tracing a path down Magnus’ forearm and over the bone of his wrist before loosely intertwining their fingers.

He closed his eyes for a moment, just to savor this fragile piece of time, but when he opened them again, it was morning. The deep orange and red of the sunrise bathed the bedroom in a warm glow, and illuminated Alexander where he was perched on the edge of the bed. “Are you going somewhere?”

The muscles in Alexander’s upper back rippled beneath his alabaster skin as he tensed. “I didn’t want to wake you,” was all he said, but for just a moment, his eyes lingered on Magnus as if he were hoping for a rebuttal.

“We don’t have to keep doing this to each other, acting as though we’re so unalike.”

That made him look away, and he stood with his back to Magnus as he adjusted the cuff of his shirt sleeve absently. “Yes, we do. We have to be.”

“God himself created even the avenging angels in his image,” Magnus replied with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

With a wry, all but humorless laugh, Alexander shook his head. “That’s not the point, Magnus! What kind of guardian allows the ones he looks after to pawn their souls for resolutions?” He turned back to face him with hard resolve.

Magnus couldn’t help but be reminded of the volatile, at times impetuous, young man he was. He had been quick to anger, holding himself in contempt for all the things that were out of his control. “Alexander—this is her life. Do you truly prefer that she suffer through this mortal existence when that is all she gets?”

“I have failed spectacularly in the past to do the one thing I’m meant to do, and I won’t let that happen again.” Grabbing his jacket from the floor, he shrugged it on and stalked off.

**

“I’m ready,” Alana declared without preamble.

A smattering of Edom’s red dirt shook loose from the tread of Magnus’ boots as he strode over to her. “I told you that the next time you summoned me you would need to be certain. If this is your decision, then all that is left is your contract.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Magnus held up his hand and angled it above her chest. “All this requires is a mark left on your soul, like an earmark. It binds you to me.” With a languid flutter of his fingers, a deep blue energy emitted from them and seeped beneath her skin. The pulsing of her heartbeat was thrummed against his magic and he could feel it as if her heart itself were in the palm of his hand. With a final push, the energy ensnared her soul, wrapping around it like ivy on a vine and pressing in to leave behind an intricate lace of markings.

She shivered faintly and let out a short, sharp exhale. “It feels like ice.”

“It should not last long,” he assured her as he pulled his hand back. “Now, taking your memories will be painless; simply stand very still.”

As soon as he began to probe her memories, her eyes clouded over into a haze of milky white. In brief flashes, he could see through her eyes flashes of the past that she had hidden away. He could feel a tangled web of emotions, each vying for pride of place. He could hear a cacophony of her name echoing in millions of different tones and inflections. Each piece pulled at her, nearly tearing her apart from the tension about to snap. Extracting them was like sucking the poison from a wound, leaving a bitter residue behind. It had been left to fester for so long that in places the memories were like rot, but in time, they all came away. “You’re purely your own now,” Magnus whispered in Alana’s ear, and with that, he vanished from her side.

For a moment, he just stood in the alleyway behind the warehouse, breathing in the damp, cold air of the rain’s end. A few droplets dotted his face and neck, and he closed his eyes to savor it. In Edom, there was no such relief like a storm.

Suddenly, he felt a presence in the shadows, familiar and passive.

“Come to spy, angel?”

Emerging soundlessly, Alexander stood with his arms folded behind him like a soldier poised in wait.

Quirking an eyebrow, Magnus turned to face him directly. “Are you going to start a street brawl for what she willingly gave me?”

The guardian almost smiled at that, and it put Magnus more at ease. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? Actually, don’t answer that. I have a feeling I would not like the answer.” Shaking his head, Alexander continued. “I was here when Alana summoned you. But I… I decided you were right, Magnus.”

“Sorry?”

Despite himself, Alexander chuckled wryly. “I could be cast out for what I have done, but protecting the mortals entrusted to me is worth any price.”

Magnus looked at him skeptically. “Forgive me if I am hesitant to accept your truce, Alexander.”

“Who said anything about a truce?” Though his words were antagonistic, his tone was peaceable. “But I suppose I should thank you for what you taught me.”

Holding up a hand to stop him, Magnus shook his head. “Please, angel. We are not obliged to such extreme shows of good faith. Besides, Edom would freeze over, and then where would I be?”

Alexander awkwardly shifted closer. “Here’s hoping we remain acquaintances from afar.”

“As if,” Magnus waved off, pressing in closer until their chests were flush. “You like me too much.”

“I never said that,” Alexander managed breathlessly before leaning in to join their lips in a kiss that could grow a whole garden from Edom’s barren desert sand.

**

For all of its flaws, Magnus decided that he liked Brooklyn. Edom was his domain, but perhaps this could be his home.

Penthouse One had become more or less a safe haven, oddly enough. The balcony provided the perfect place for his morning meditations, the living room could host a great many guests, and the apothecary was quaint and studious. And perhaps he was indulging in feeling like a mortal at times, but what else was he to do when he was topside so frequently?

The soft click of the door opening made Magnus set down his martini and move towards the entryway curiously. In the hall, he saw a figure cloaked in a long black coat with a hood concealing their face. Boots stained with dirt and dried blood left a faint trail on the wood floor, and the bow over their shoulder was battered with scratches and dings.

“Alexander, you’re home early.”

Shaking his head free from the hood, Alexander revealed his bloodied face. “I gave myself the rest of the night off.”

With a disapproving tsk, Magnus guided his chin away from him to get a better look at the trails of crimson oozing down from his temple and cheekbone. “No rest for the wicked, hmm?”

Alexander rolled his eyes as he allowed Magnus to steer him to the couch. “I think I may have broken a rib,” grunted as he lowered himself onto a cushion.

“Take your jacket and shirt off so I can see.” Magnus gingerly sat beside him and helped to maneuver his arms from the sleeves. His knuckles faintly brushed Alexander’s upper back and his whole body tensed in reflex. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, carefully working around the cloth that covered two deep, distinct scars where Alexander’s wings had been ripped from his back some time ago. They looked much like his father’s. As soon as they worked together to peel Alexander’s t-shirt off, Magnus couldn’t help but lean over and brush his lips, faint as a whisper, against the point between his shoulder blades between the dark V-shaped scarring. “Now, let me take a look.”

“Here.” With some difficulty, Alexander rolled slightly to his left side, revealing a blossoming bruise against the side of his rib cage. After just a gentle probing of Magnus’ finger tips against the tender skin, he jerked away. “Fuck.”

“Was it worth the fight, Night Arrow?” Magnus asked with a faint smile, unearthing a package of alcohol swabs from the first aid kit they kept hidden beneath the couch for just such an occasion.

“Always. I have to do something, right?” The bitter edge in voice would likely always be there at the mention of his being cast down. The scars on his back were a reminder he would never need, because Magnus knew he could never forget.

Magnus himself would likely always be haunted by the events of the night Alexander fell from Heaven. The sight of him when he stumbled to Magnus’ door, drenched in sweat and pale as death as he bled through the scraps of fabric he had wrapped himself in still felt too unbearable to recall. Even as a mortal, he still found a way to dedicate himself to the protection of the innocent, and Magnus could never begrudge him that.

“There’s something else that might help,” he murmured, wincing as he scratched absently at the drying blood on his forehead.

Setting down the swabs, Magnus straightened up to look at him.

“A kiss.”

“A kiss,” Magnus echoed, a grin spreading across his lips. “What will you give me for it? Your everlasting soul?”

Alexander dropped his chin and his lips parted just enough to tenderly take Magnus’ finger into his mouth. His tongue was warm and soft, and Magnus felt that all too human feeling of butterflies in his stomach. Releasing him with a quiet pop, Alexander smiled. “That’s not mine to give anymore. It’s already yours.”

[crimson-mage-02]

Justice League Dark: Apokolips War

A/N: I hope you all like it! There are more to come!

@chromium7sky @ravenalghul @ravenfan1242 @oursweetescape @damiraestan @damirae-week @damnshipper, @pillsofpink, @grassfour and to all Damirae shipers!!

Summary: Set during and after the ending of Justice League Dark Apokolips war, after succeeding to destroy the Apokolips and defeating Darkseid. The Justice League and members from the Teen Titans left to the ruins of the Titans Tower and Earth until they found a way to go back to the things were. 

Damian and Raven both sat closely on a rock with Raven laying her head on his shoulder watching the sun rising up from the horizon. She breathed out and in, feeling free for the first time from her father’s hold. She knew he was pure evil, but deep inside, he loved her until the end. She looked over at Damian whose eyes were glancing over at his brother who was laying down on Kori’s lap.

She had this sad frown on her face as she held on his hand that was placed on her arm. He gasped a little and he looked into her beautiful, deep dark purple eyes. His face softened once he looked at her. And he took in her new appearance with her white cloak. He slowly took off the hood from her head and saw her long black hair flowing down out of her hood.

Damian smiled at the beautiful sight of his beloved right beside him. Her long silky hair was blowing in the wind softly and noticed her gem was missing. He looked at Raven who had smiled contently, making him realise she was free from her father thanks to Constantine who gave him a slight nod.

“So, how do you feel, beloved?” Damian asked softly as he caressed her cheek.

“I never felt so free in my life. He is finally out of my head.” Raven replied as she leaned into Damian’s gloved hand. “So, what now?”

Damian sighed heavily and looked into her eyes. “I don’t know. I could go back to the League of Assassins with Titus. If you don’t want to come with me, I do understand.”

“No, no, Damian, I’d love to. I’d love to go with you.” Raven said with a loving smile with Damian looked at her surprised to hear that she’ll go with him. To stay with him. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be with you.”

Damian just smiled and let her lean her head on his shoulder, savouring the moment between them with the sun shining in the horizon as he looked into the clear sky with a small smile as they both mourn for their fallen fellow Teen Titan friends.

From a far, Batman had seen the sweet tender moment between Damian and Raven. He sighed sadly with Diana putting a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “There must be another way. To fix all of this.”

“But there is no other way, Bruce. We cannot change what has been done.” Diana said sadly.

“The Justice League never quits. We never quit. We can still save our planet. Even if it costs our lives.” Clark said, trying to lift up others hope as they all looked at him.

Constantine looked over at Flash who was sitting hopelessly, all alone. He went over to him with a cigarette in his hand. “You know what to do, mate.”

“I promised Iris before she…” Flash sighed heavily and looked down at the ground. “I can’t. Everything would change. Again.” He felt Constantine’s hand on his shoulder and looked up at him.

“And some of those changes may be shite and we may make same mistakes again.” Constantine said to him. “But I think I can help. Just to make some other changes.”

Flash smiled hesitantly as he stood up with the run rising. He got ready to run to make changes with Constantine chanting a spell, mumbling some words underneath his breath. He took a deep breath and looked into the sky. “I’ll see you again, love.”

He finished chanting the spell as Flash had started running into the horizon on the clear blue water with everyone on the shore watching. They all stood tall as they were ready to see those changes he had altered in a new timeline. Clark sighed softly as he watched the light shining brightly and stood with his two friends. Everyone watched the light shining brightly, hoping that everything would soon change, but it will not be the same.

Raven looked over at Damian as she looked into his eyes. Damian looked into her purple eyes and leaned in for a passionate kiss with the light shining brightly. They both held onto each other tightly and pressed their foreheads together with tears rolling down their faces knowing their universe will be forevermore erased.

Constantine had finished casting his spell and looked at the sky with him smelling the fresh air and the wind blowing his face, he had done it. He had done the right thing to do for his teammates, his friends and his love.

(~)

Damian was shifting in his bed while he heard beeping from his phone. He groaned irritated as he reached to get the phone and turned it off. He sighed lightly and went back to sleep again until he saw something wasn’t right. He got up and saw he was in a room. Filled with picture frames and some katana swords hanging on the walls. He assumed it was his room, but then he saw two luggage near the door. He raised his eyebrow in confusion until he felt a hand on his back. He turned to his right and saw Raven beside him.

“Damian, are you okay? Is something wrong?” Raven asked, caressing his cheek. Seeing how shocked he looked and how confused he was.

“Did—How—What is going on Raven?” Damian asked as he grabbed her hand.

“What do you mean?” Raven asked as she sat up covered herself with the covers as she ran her hand through her long black hair. Damian noticed she was covering most of her body and then looked at himself. His eyes widened, realizing he was naked. He quickly covered himself and cleared his throat. “Damian, you haven’t answered my question, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare again?”

Again? “Uh, yeah, something like that.” Damian replied reluctantly as he laid back down on his pillow. What the hell is happening here? First, we defeated Darkseid and returned to Earth, I saw the light shining brightly, me and Raven sharing our last moment. Then this happened?! What is going on? I need to talk to Constantine, wherever he is.

“Well, let me know if you start to have nightmares again, we can meditate together like last time.” Raven said as she rubbed and laid on his back, put kisses on the nape of his neck that sent him chills.

Damian saw Raven was going to get change as she got her clothes from a closet. He noticed there was a League of Assassins uniform can be found. His eyes widened in shock. “Are we in…. the League of Shadows?”

“Yes, you figured that the team could use a larger training area, so we went here.” Raven said. “You are sure acting strange. You sure you’re okay?”

“You really don’t know what has happened?” Damian asked carefully.

“Hmm, to be honest, no. But I know you’ll tell me when you are ready.” Raven smiled as she gave him a small kiss before leaving to change into her clothes.

Damian nodded slowly as he got to change while thinking of what has happened. She may not know what has happened. All he knew was that maybe Flash or Constantine had done something with their reality’s timeline. He doesn’t know if anyone could tell what has happened. He quickly got changed and got out of the kitchen and saw Titus was still sleeping with dog food beside him.

Damian walked around the room and then spotted something on the wall. Looks like a newspaper framed. He looked at it in shock as he saw the headline, made by Lois Lane, who is now alive in this new timeline.

DARKSEID HAS BEEN DEFEATED BY A TEAM OF SUPERHEROES AND SAVED PLANET EARTH

Damian ran his hand through his hair in shock and then saw another photo frame. It was him and Raven in front of the Titans tower. Both of them were smiling and noticed she was wearing her white cloak and had her long hair above her waist.

Then there was a knock on his door with Titus waking up growling. “Titus, calm down.” Damian commanded softly as he opened the door cautiously and saw his friends and teammates.

“Hey, Damian, we were wondering if training is still going?” Jaime asked.

Damian stood in shock to see his friends were alright. But it appears that they don’t seem to remember anything. Nothing at all. It’s good, right? “Uh, actually, why don’t you ask Kori? She is our leader, is she not?”

“Uh, dude, you hit your head or what? You’re our leader.” Garfield corrected with a light chuckle.

What? Kori was the leader not me, right? “Ah, right, then maybe we could have a day off. Just to be ourselves for the day.” Damian suggested.

“Wow, that is generous of you.” Jon said with a smirk. “It hasn’t been that long you’ve given us some time off.”

“Oh, spending time with your girlfriend? That’s sweet.” Donna smiled as Damian put on his rarest smiles and heard Raven was coming out in casual clothes with her hair down.

“So, no training I take it?” Raven asked with a smile as she greeted the others.

“N-no, no training today.” Damian shook his head.

“We could go to the carnival! We could go there for team bonding as a celebration of our anniversary.” Garfield suggested with a grin as he looked at Damian with a smirk that annoys him. A lot.

“What?” Damian asked in a very annoyed tone seeing his teammate was getting closer to him.

“Unless, you want to stay here with your girlfriend?” Garfield teased as he made kissing noises with Damian’s eye twitching in annoyance, but Raven held his hand to calm him down.

“Knock it off, Gar, I promised Donna and Terra that we go shopping.” Raven smiled with Damian’s eyes widened in shock.

“Wait? Terra?” Damian questioned in confusion.

“Who else would it be, team leader? Sorry, I came in late. I had to save some citizens in the city. Ready to go? Away from the boys for a change?” Terra asked with a smirk as she came to Gar’s side. Damian looked at her in shock, remembering she was supposed to be dead and that she had betrayed them. He saw how close Gar and Tara were. I thought Tara hated Beast Boy? Or maybe… So, Flash and Constantine did some few changes to this new timeline.

Raven noticed he has been acting strange and wanted to get to the bottom of this. “Yeah, I’m ready. Rachel, you ready?” Donna asked her with a smile.

“Yes, I’ll meet you at the gate. I’ll be there. I need to talk to our fearless leader for a moment.” Raven smiled as they all left them alone in their shared quarters. As the door was closed, Raven looked at Damian with a concerned look.

“Are you sure you are telling me the truth? You sure you are okay?” Raven asked him softly as she caressed both of his cheeks with Damian holding him and leaning into her touch.

“I-I will tell you soon. I just need to do something first before I go with the boys.” Damian replied. “I’m sorry. There’s something in need to take care of. I’ll come back and explain everything when I get back. I promise.”

“Okay. Don’t be late for dinner.” Raven said with a smile as they both kissed softly on the lips before leaving.

(~)

Later that day, Damian drove his motorcycle to the Wayne Manor and stopped in the front of the staircase. He got his helmet off and marched up the stairs with Alfred opening the doors. “Master Damian, how can we be of help? Is Rachel well?”

The young man sighed in relief to see Alfred was alright. Alive and well. When he left for the League of Assassin, he heard Alfred was dead. Killed by Parademons. “Master Damian?”

“I-I’m good. All good. Rachel’s alright. She’s with the girls.” Damian replied. “Where is father? I must speak with him. It’s urgent.”

“It is a coincidence I must say. He wanted to see you as well.” Alfred said to Damian who looked at him. “You know where he is.”

Damian nodded and went down to the bat cave seeing the computers was on and some papers on the table. He looked at the chair and saw his father was looking at something on the screen. He was reading the newspaper and watched the news that Lois Lane was reporting about the Apokolips.

“Father?” Damian called out to him.

“Damian? Glad you could make it. I am sure you are aware of the changes around you.” Bruce spoke up as he faced him as the young man walked down the stairs.

“Yes, I have. But Raven doesn’t seem to remember anything at all.” Damian said as he rubbed his eyes. “Then I saw all of my friends, saying I am the new leader and saw Terra alive! She was supposed to be dead!”

“I know this is all overwhelming, Damian. I did see many changes all over the world. It appears that Constantine and Flash had changed something in this timeline. Made alternate changes. The Justice League is back to normal. The Titans are alive as well.” Bruce said.

“So, where is Constantine?” Damian asked.

(~)

Somewhere in the Justice League headquarters, Constantine was smoking a cigarette thinking how he had changed their timeline. They had defeated Darkseid managed to save the Earth with the help of Flash. He couldn’t still believe it.

But again, he was happy to spend the rest of his life with the only one person he loves. Zatanna. She was back. She was back in his life and in this new changed timeline. But still he could not forgive himself for leaving her behind. He just froze, paralysed with fear. “Hey, John, you alright?” Zatanna asked worriedly.

“I am fine, love. Just relieved.” Constantine replied as he took out his cigarette.

“Oh? May I ask why you are relieved? This morning you looked shocked. Did you have a nightmare?” Zatanna asked as she rubbed his shoulders.

“Well it was hell of a nightmare, but in the end. It was all worth it when I saw your face.” Constantine replied with a smile and they both leaned in for a kiss. Everything was perfect. He had saved and brought back everyone with the Flash. And had heard they both brought back some other people in their lives again.

(~)

Raven was looking at her drink while thinking of something in her mind. Terra glanced over at the empath and sighed. “Okay, I’ll bite. What is wrong with you, Rachel? Is everything okay with Mister Muscles?”

“Hmm? My relationship with Damian is rather going well.” Rachel replied. “Nothing is wrong except he was acting weird. Like this morning.”

“Very weird. Did he tell you what was going on?” Donna asked curiously.

“He did say he’ll explain over dinner.” Raven replied as she drank her milkshake. “It’s funny. I had this strange dream last night. It was almost like we were in some kind of end of the world.”

The two girls looked at each other while Donna was explaining she has that same vibe. But can’t explain what really happened during the dream. It seemed vague. And there were some things left unclear. “Yeesh. Apokolips? Wow, does sound like the end of the world to me.” Terra said as she heard glass cup shattering from Raven, seeing her milkshake dripping. “Rachel, whoa, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just felt a sharp pain in my head. Sorry.” Raven replied. “And strangely it is gone.”

Terra and Donna both raised their eyebrows in confusion until the boys texted them if they all want to go to the carnival while Damian and Raven have their dinner. “So, we have done shopping, it’s time to go the carnival for our anniversary as Teen Titans.” Donna whispered excitedly, making sure their cover aren’t really blown. Terra chuckled with Raven smiling as she got her phone in her hand, seeing her wallpaper of Damian.

(~)

Raven went back to her quarters and saw Damian was waiting for her at the dining table. She smiled a bit and approached him, greeting him with a kiss on the forehead and sat on his lap. “How are you feeling now?” Raven asked as she played with his hair.

“To be honest. I was all over the place. Or way over my head.” Damian chuckled. “But other than that, beloved, I am feeling better.”

Raven smiled and leaned in for a soft kiss on the lips then pulled away. “But you didn’t explain why you were acting weird this morning.”

Damian had a feeling she would say that. Then he had an idea. “Look inside my head.” He grabbed her hands and plant them each of his temple. “I trust you.”

Raven looked at him for a few moments and then nodded in understanding. Trusting him as she closed her eyes and looked inside his head. She could hear screams. The horrid screams from the Justice League and the rest of the Teen Titans. It looked like the end of the world as Donna had said earlier.

Everyone they ever know and loved, were all killed. The whole city was ruined. All ruined. Set in flames. All buildings were destroyed. There was death and destruction everywhere. Reminds her of Azarath.  She saw herself was weak. Really weak, until she saw Damian by her side. He was smiling lovingly at her as she stared in his emerald eyes. The next thing she saw was him saving his father from Darkseid. Then she revived him and donned her white cloak after his revival. It was a warm feeling she had felt from seeing that sight. It was love. Pure true love she had felt from Damian. She felt all of his feelings he felt for her.

She opened her eyes and looked at Damian. He looked into her purple eyes after she was finished seeing what had happened when the timeline had changed. “Wow…. Damian... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t know have to say anything. I’m just glad you’re here. With me.” Damian smiled as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Me too. I’m glad that the two of us are together.” Raven smiled as she looked at the time and saw it was almost dinner time. She was thinking they could cook something together.

“Say, why don’t we skip dinner and join the others?” Damian asked with smirk.

Raven laughed a little with an amused smile. “Hmm, I like the sound of that.” Raven replied.

(~)

Gar was winning something for Terra but failed. He tried the game over and over again. Jaime hit him on the head. “Dude, enough! If you waste you money again, I won’t give your more to play the game.”

“And there are plenty of other games we could play.” Wally pointed out.

Gar groaned in defeat and then Terra comforted him with a kiss on cheek. “Don’t worry, chuckles. I’ll win something for you instead.”

“So, where are the lovebirds?” Wally asked.

“They said they’ll have dinner together.” Donna answered his question. “How romantic. It is so obvious that Damian has feelings for Raven from the start when I first arrived.”

“Yeah, no kidding, they have been spending way too much time together.” Jon said as he rolled his eyes. he turned to Jaime who looked at everyone. They all seem to pair up.

“We gotta get a girlfriend.” Jaime said as Jon nodded in agreement. Both were desperate for a girlfriend. Jon and Jaime felt a bit left out since everyone seemed to have a girl with them. Wally and Donna seemed to be getting well.

“Uh, you kidding? I could see it so clearly that they do have a thing for each other all this time.” Terra said with Gar putting an arm around her shoulders.

“And all of those missions together, they always get paired together.” Jaime said with a smirk. “Also, spending too much in each other’s room in the tower.”

“I thought you all do mind your business by now.” All of the titans all gasped softly when they heard their leader’s voice. They all turned around to see Damian and Raven in the carnival with them.

“Rachel! Damian! I thought you two were going out for dinner.” Donna thought as she came and hugged Raven. “You know on a date?”

“Well, Damian and I thought it would be great if all of us spend some time to celebrate our anniversary. All of us, together. We wouldn’t miss all of the fun.” Raven smiled as she held Damian’s hand.

“Oh yeah! I do what that rematch.” Garfield said with Damian shaking his head with a smile. it was good to see his friends and he saw his brother, Dick and Kori were spending time in the carnival as well. He watched his friends were shouting to find a new game to play.

He felt Raven was pulling him with her to play a game with a bright smile on her face. They all played different kinds of games. Gar and Jaime were trying to beat each other in a water gun, Donna nearly crushed a stall with her super strength. Terra just simply played a game and had won a prize for Garfield when they were trying to catch a fish in a net.

Damian and Raven just shared a cotton candy together just like when they first met. And then they walked along the path until they stumbled across the mirrors and she laughed seeing Damian’s large ass on the mirror just like before. Damian nudged her on the arm, making her see herself on the mirror having a skinny body. They both laughed while they went to see some more games to play.  

Then Garfield has been begging Damian to do a rematch in the dancing match when he first arrived. Everyone cheered on Damian to dance against him until he gave up and did the dancing match with people watching and cheering on them.

Raven was smiling happily to see that Damian was having fun. Like actually having fun. Jaime and Jon were betting on Damian to win while Terra was cheering on Gar to beat their leader until he got exhausted and their leader won. “Oh, well that was brilliant.” Terra said sarcastically.

“Well, at least they are having fun.” Donna smiled.

“Or maybe Gar was just tired and let him win.” Raven smirked with Terra mumbling about something.

“So, what do we do next?” Jon asked everyone as they heard the announcer saying that the fireworks show is about to start. Everyone cheered as they all lined to the Ferris wheel to get a better view in the sky.

Garfield and Terra were sitting close together to see the stars and see the constellations up in the sky. Wally and Donna were just looking at the sky with smiles on their faces while Jaime and Jon were left behind down below.

“At least, they are all happy.” Jon said softly.

“Yeah. Let’s get ourselves some food or a drink.” Jaime sighed softly with him noticing how glum he looked and sounded.

“I thought you were going with Traci?” Jon asked with a grin.

“Shut up! She said she was spending time with her family. Besides, I don’t want her to miss out on family time.” Jaime explained.

Damian let Raven lay her head on his shoulder, watching the stars together. Before they were young awkward two teens and now, they’re together. Nothing can tear them apart. They were finally together. “Feels like old times.” Raven smiled.

“Yes, it does.” Damian said as he kissed her head and laid his head on hers. “There is something I need to ask you.”

Raven looked up at him as he seemingly looked away. “Damian, if this is about what I saw in your head. It was all in the past. We can finally move on.”

“I know. It’s… It’s about something else.” Damian said.

“Oh.”

“Well, I did ask you to join me in leading the League of Assassin during that time. You refused and I just left you. I don’t want to leave you alone. Never. I’ll stay by your side and I’ll always will, Raven.” Damian said as he held her hand.

“So, what are you saying?” Raven asked.

“I know we are still young teenagers. And legally 18 years old. All I am saying is. Raven, when I first met you. I had these overwhelming feelings for you. I tried to shake away the emotions, but I couldn’t. Over time, I never ignored it. I had fallen in love with you. Deeply.” Damian confessed with Raven smiling at him lovingly.

“So, all I was trying to say is that Raven…” Damian grabbed something in his pocket and shown her a black box. Raven gasped in shock. She had tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “Will you marry me and make me the most happiest man in this whole world? Be my beautiful bride?”

Damian looked at her lovingly as she cried and then kissed him passionately with him wrapping his arms around her. They both pulled away with Damian asking with a smile. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course, silly.” Raven replied as he put the ring on her finger. It has a red and purple crystals placed on the golden ring. It was their uniform colours. She loved it. She loved the ring. And she loves the man who she is going to spend the rest of her life with. “I love you, Damian.”

“I love you too, Raven.” Damian replied as they kissed underneath the stars and the fireworks playing in the sky. Seeing more beautiful colours with the stars twinkling as they all gasped seeing a shooting star.

[caradecema]

The Ghost And The Boy Scout

PART: 3

SUMMARY: Ghost isn’t part of the League—just a flirty mystery who helps when she feels like it, especially if Superman’s around. Only Wonder Woman know who she really is. Batman? Annoyed and suspicious.

When her dangerous past catches up, Ghost must drop the act, reveal her identity, and protect the League from what’s coming. Somewhere between shadow-traveling and saving lives, she might just steal Superman’s heart.

(Superman x OC)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A week passed in a strange, teasing haze. The world kept spinning, threats kept rising and falling, and yet somehow—somehow—Ghost still found her way into the Watchtower like a shadow slipping through cracks.

No warning. No invitation.

She simply appeared that afternoon—curled in the co-pilot chair beside Superman in the monitoring bay, one leg crossed over the other, a slow smile tugging at her lips as her fingers toyed with the edge of his cape.

"You know," she drawled softly, eyes gleaming beneath her hood, "this shade of red really does something for me."

Superman straightened in his chair, jaw tight, trying—trying—to look unaffected. "Ghost..."

"Clark," she cooed under her breath, voice just low enough that only his super-hearing could catch it, "I missed you."

He sighed, the faintest blush creeping up his neck. "You were here yesterday."

"And yet, so long ago," she purred, nudging her shoulder against his. "Did you miss me too?"

He looked at her sidelong. "You're insufferable."

"You love it."

He didn't respond, but the curve of his mouth betrayed him.

Across the room, Batman stood by the holo-table, tension coiling through his shoulders like steel wire. He didn't even look at her—he didn't need to. His voice was sharp as ever.

"Every time we arrive, the signal's already gone. Like whatever it is wants us chasing our tails."

Diana stood beside him, arms crossed, gaze flicking briefly between the hologram and Ghost. She said nothing, but she knew. She always did.

"It's fast," Bruce continued, "and strong. Stronger than any meta-human I've tracked in the last year. And it's playing games."

Ghost, sprawled against Superman's side like a satisfied cat, barely flicked her gaze toward the projection. "Sounds like a you problem."

Bruce's jaw flexed.

Clark, trying not to smile, murmured low enough for only her to hear, "You could try helping."

Ghost smirked, brushing invisible lint from his shoulder. "What's the fun in being predictable?"

Then her voice dropped to a tone only he could catch—soft, quiet, all amusement gone.

"Also, just so you know... your girlfriend's been rather stalkerish lately."

Clark blinked. "What?"

"Lois," Ghost murmured. "She's been seen twice near my penthouse. And I don't think she's there for fashion tips."

He looked at her with mild alarm, already opening his mouth, but—

"I'm fine, Boy Scout," she added quickly, voice light again. "I just thought it was funny. She doesn't even live near me."

Before he could say more, before Clark could say that Lois was nothing but a coworker, Bruce cut in sharply. "We tracked the signal again this morning. Same pattern. Same fade. If we don't get ahead of it, we'll be chasing ghosts for another month."

Ghost grinned at the choice of words, not moving from Superman's side as if she belonged there—like the base itself had made room for her.

"I am right here," she said lazily.

Bruce didn't respond. But the muscle in his jaw ticked harder.

And all Clark could think—behind the cape, behind the control—was that he really, really liked having her around.

Ghost didn't stop touching him.

Her fingers played at the edge of Superman's cape, tracing the stitching. She leaned into his shoulder with that smug, lazy smile—like she was exactly where she wanted to be. Every now and then, she tilted her face just enough to whisper something that made Clark go stiff with blush and clear his throat louder than necessary.

Batman's glare had evolved into something just shy of murder.

"We're trying to conduct an analysis," Bruce snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut metal, "not host a flirtatious lounge act."

"Aw, don't be jealous, Bat," Ghost murmured, barely glancing his way, eyes still on Clark. "I'm sure someone out there finds brooding sexy."

"I'm not jealous," Bruce growled. "I'm trying to solve a case."

"And I'm multi-tasking," she grinned, head resting on Clark's shoulder now. "You know, some of us can do more than glower and monologue."

Bruce opened his mouth to snap again, but something stopped him. A glint in his eye. That shift in his posture that said I know something you don't.

He didn't look at her as he said it. "We found trace elements during the last signal disruption."

Ghost gave a bored yawn, not moving from Clark. "Mm-hmm. Another dead end?"

"This wasn't ordinary residue," Batman said evenly. "It was gold dust."

Clark felt her freeze.

It was subtle. Barely there. But he noticed it immediately—the way her fingers stopped moving, how her breath hitched just a fraction. Her shadows, always moving like lazy smoke, recoiled slightly, as if they too had heard something that disturbed them.

Then slowly, she peeled herself away from Clark, her expression shifting from playful to cold focus.

"What did you say?" Her voice dropped, all warmth gone.

Bruce watched her closely now. "Gold dust. Microscopic. Unnatural. It was left behind on the concrete and embedded in a few security cameras. What do you know?"

Ghost didn't answer right away. She looked to Diana, and Diana, who had been watching her this whole time, straightened.

"May I see it?" Ghost asked, tone clipped.

Bruce hesitated, clearly still debating how much he trusted her—but something in the way she stood now, all that eerie calm melted into something ancient and serious, made him relent. He pressed a few buttons on the console, and a holographic rendering of the gold dust shimmered above the table.

Ghost stepped forward. Studied it.

Then muttered something under her breath in Ancient Greek that only Diana—and maybe Clark—caught.

"Χρυσόσκονη. Όχι πάλι..."

"Ghost—" Clark started, brows knitting.

But she was already turning away.

She met Diana's eyes. And something passed between them. A silent conversation only old souls could share.

Without a word, she shadow-traveled. One blink—gone in a whirl of black smoke.

The room fell silent.

"Where did she go?" Flash asked, blinking.

Diana stepped away from the console without a word, turning toward the exit.

"Diana?" Clark said.

She paused only briefly. "She went to handle something old. And dangerous."

And then she, too, was gone.

Clark stared at the gold dust, heart hammering.

Whatever this was... it wasn't just some random anomaly anymore.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Themyscira was quiet—too quiet for May's liking. The wind drifted lazily across the pale sands, scented with salt and blooming lavender, but it didn't help her mood one bit.

She paced by the marble balcony, tossing her arms in the air like a demigod possessed.

"Seventeen, Diana. Seventeen. I thought I was done with this goddamn war nonsense! I literally saved the world twice. Isn't that the retirement plan? Kill a Titan, destroy a cursed army, get a penthouse, invest in wine, flirt with Superman until he combusts—that was the dream!"

Diana sat calmly on a curved bench carved into the stone, a goblet of honeyed wine in hand, her expression amused but sympathetic.

"You know," she said, lifting a brow, "once you save mankind twice before the age of twenty and the gods look down and decide you're worthy of immortality, I would think 'normal' was no longer on the table."

May groaned and dropped onto the stone next to her, shoulders slumping. "Not helping, Diana."

"I'm not trying to help," Diana smirked, offering her the goblet.

May took it with a glare but drank anyway. "I swear, if this is another one of my grandfather's stupid games, I'm going to drag his crusty old bones out of the Underworld myself and shake him."

"You could," Diana offered. "You have the authority."

"Don't tempt me," she muttered. "I already got golden ichor on my damn boots and some invisible stalker who leaves Olympus-flavored glitter trails for Batman to follow."

Diana stifled a laugh.

"I just want a vacation. Is that so much to ask?" May took another swig of the wine, then stared out at the sea. "Do you think this thing... whatever it is... is another demigod?"

"Possibly." Diana leaned back, brow furrowed now. "Or worse. It could be something twisted from the old wars. Something that learned how to hide."

"Something papi might've 'accidentally' let slip through a crack in Tartarus while trimming his beard," May muttered.

Diana hummed. "Wouldn't be the first time."

May sighed. "If I have to fight another reanimated hero from the Trojan War, I'm going to scream."

Diana rested a hand on hers. "Then we scream together."

May cracked a small grin, her shoulders finally easing. "Thanks, Princess."

"Anytime, Ghost."

Then May paused, tapping her fingers on the goblet. "Still. If it's another cousin out for revenge or some weird demigod-kid-turned-wraith with a god complex, I'm sending it straight to Metropolis first."

Diana arched a brow. "Why?"

"Because Clark's face when I drop something immortal in his lap? Priceless."

Diana laughed, raising her glass. "To chaos?"

"To chaos," May grinned, clinking hers against it. "And to keeping Bruce guessing."

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The wind howled for a moment in the stillness outside Clark's farmhouse before the shadows curled inward like black smoke being sucked into a pinpoint. And then—thud—May stumbled out of the darkness and onto Clark's front porch.

He opened the door before she even knocked.

"May?"

"C'laaaaark!" Her voice was bright, a little too bright, and she nearly tripped over the welcome mat before launching herself into his chest.

He caught her with ease, strong arms circling instinctively around her waist as she melted into him like she belonged there. She smelled faintly of wine, lavender, and that weird magic only he ever picked up on.

"You're drunk," he said, half-laughing as she buried her face in his chest and groaned like a tipsy banshee.

"You're warm," she muttered, muffled by his flannel.

He chuckled again, shutting the door behind them and steering her toward the couch. "For the record... Lois is just my coworker."

She perked up at that, slowly blinking up at him like she just registered the statement. "Really?"

He nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. "Really."

She squinted dramatically. "Even though she follows me? Watches me like she wants to figure me out? Like... a cat with a laser pointer it can't catch?"

Clark gave her a crooked smile. "Lois watches everyone. That's kind of her thing."

"Still. She's got that jealous ex energy," May said as she slumped back against the cushions. "She's probably got a whole red-string board titled 'Who the hell is May and why is she touching my coworker like that.'"

He laughed, soft and genuine, and she smiled up at him, a little dazed.

"Y'know," she murmured, her fingers lazily brushing the hem of his shirt, "if your eyes were any prettier, I'd start writing poetry."

Clark's brows rose. "You write poetry?"

"Nope," she grinned. "But for you, I'd fake it."

Before he could respond, she sighed and leaned against him completely, eyes fluttering shut.

"And there she goes," he muttered, shifting just enough to let her rest comfortably against his side. He looked down at her sleeping face—peaceful, with that slight curl to her lips that never quite disappeared.

Outside, the wind died down. Inside, the shadows curled lazily around her boots like loyal hounds at rest.

Clark just sat there, gently holding her, utterly confused but smiling all the same.

The sunlight creeping in through the old farmhouse windows was far too judgmental for May's liking. She groaned, a low, drawn-out sound that made the shadows at her feet twitch before sinking back into the floorboards. Her head throbbed, her throat dry, and every part of her felt like it had been dragged through a demigod war zone—which, to be fair, wasn't too far from reality these days.

Then the soft pad pad of footsteps caught her ear.

Clark entered the room holding two mugs, wearing a simple T-shirt and grey sweatpants, the kind that should be illegal on someone with that much leg.

She smirked immediately, eyes trailing with absolutely no shame. "Boy Scout," she rasped, voice rough with sleep and wine, "are you trying to seduce me with tea and sweatpants?"

He grinned, handing her a mug. "Just trying to ease your hangover before you start throwing shadow-daggers at my furniture."

She took the tea with a lazy grin. "Mmm. I could get used to this..."

Clark laughed and leaned against the counter. "How do you like your eggs?"

She blinked at him, smirk spreading. "Fertile."

Clark choked.

She sipped her tea sweetly. "Scrambled, actually. With a little salt and cheese. But I figured if I didn't throw you off once this morning, it wouldn't be me."

"Right," he coughed, cheeks pink as he turned toward the kitchen.

She watched him go with a hum, dragging the blanket off the couch and wrapping it around herself like a cape before she disappeared into the hallway toward his room.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged, freshly washed and wearing one of his old flannels that hung off her like a dress, paired with grey sweats cinched at her waist.

"Hope you don't mind," she said, waltzing barefoot into the kitchen like she owned it, brushing a hand through her damp hair. "My actual clothes smell like wine, and regret."

Clark turned, spatula in hand, and paused for half a second too long before saying, "You wear plaid well."

She leaned against the doorway, sipping her tea again with a smirk. "Careful, Kent. Compliments from you feel dangerously like foreplay."

He gave her a side-eye as he flipped the eggs. "Eat first. Flirt second."

"Deal," she purred, still very much flirting first.

The kitchen filled with the smell of eggs and toast, and outside the world spun on as if it didn't have a clue that a demigod was teasing the hell out of Superman in borrowed clothes.

The eggs were good. Almost too good. May sat on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs like a kid, one of Clark's too-big mugs cupped between her hands.

Clark watched her with amused patience as she made yet another ridiculous observation.

"I'm just saying," she declared between bites of toast, "if you can fly, shoot lasers from your eyes, and wear your underwear over your pants, you should at least have a pancake recipe that slaps."

Clark chuckled. "I never said I didn't have one."

She narrowed her eyes. "Prove it."

He raised a brow. "Now?"

"Right now. I'm wearing your clothes, drinking your tea, mocking your fashion choices—what's next if not pancakes?"

Clark leaned back against the sink, arms crossed, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "You're impossible."

"I've been called worse." She winked, popping the last bit of toast into her mouth.

They stayed like that for a moment—comfortably quiet, filled with easy energy and that fuzzy kind of domestic calm that made May almost forget the chaos that constantly trailed behind her.

Then: knock knock knock.

May tilted her head toward the door. "You expecting someone?"

Clark looked up, confused. "No..."

May hopped off the counter, bare feet silent as she crossed the room, flannel swishing just above her knees. She pulled the door open with that lazy grin she wore like armor.

And there stood Lois Lane.

Wearing a sharp blazer and holding her phone in one hand like it was a weapon, Lois blinked. Once. Twice. "Oh," she said. Flat.

"Oh," May echoed, sweet and utterly insincere. She leaned against the doorway, all legs and smug confidence, eyes dancing with delight. "You again."

Lois's lips thinned. "Didn't realize I'd be interrupting."

"You are," May said, absolutely not moving. "But I'm a generous host."

Clark stepped into the hallway behind her. "Lois? Everything okay?"

Lois didn't look at him. "Just came by to drop off the files you left at the office."

"Thanks—" he started, but May, with perfect timing, looped her arms around his waist from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder.

Lois blinked slowly.

Clark, slightly red now, looked between them, awkward but not pushing May away.

"Well," Lois said, sharply, "I'll let you get back to it. Looks like you're... busy."

May didn't miss a beat. "Oh, he is."

Clark made a noise that was probably meant to be a cough but came out more like a strangled laugh.

May smiled sweetly. "Bye now."

And with zero shame, she reached back, pulled the door shut with one hand, and yanked Clark gently inside with the other.

Once the door clicked shut, she looked up at him, positively glowing. "Do you think she likes me?"

Clark gave her a look.

May grinned. "Yeah. Me neither."

Clark shook his head, still a little pink in the cheeks, and turned to face her fully. "You are—"

"Delightful?" May offered innocently, fingers still curled in the hem of his shirt as she looked up at him through lashes that were absolutely batting on purpose.

He gave her a look that was all amusement and exasperation wrapped in one. "Something like that."

May smirked, standing on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his jaw. "Now," she said, voice playful and low, "where were we before the door knock of doom?"

Clark rested his hands on her hips, steadying her like she was some chaotic whirlwind that needed anchoring—which, let's be honest, she kind of was. "You were accusing me of pancake-related crimes, I think."

"Right!" she gasped, dramatically stepping back and pointing at him. "Your culinary honor is still on the line, Kent. You've got five minutes to impress me or I'm calling in a Greek god to cook for me instead."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know Greek gods?"

May's grin widened. "I might."

Clark laughed, shaking his head as he turned back toward the kitchen. "Alright then. Sit. Watch. And prepare to have your mind blown."

She flopped back onto a stool with a little groan, draping her arms across the counter like it was a fainting couch. "This better be the fluffiest pancake this side of Metropolis. I want it to emotionally support me."

As he grabbed the ingredients, Clark shot her a quick glance over his shoulder. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm charming."

"Same thing, apparently."

May grinned behind her mug, eyes softening as she watched him. It wasn't often she got this—quiet mornings, real laughter, someone who didn't treat her like a mystery or a threat. It was kind of... nice.

Too nice, maybe.

But she wasn't about to question it. Not today.

Today she had pancakes, tea, and the Boy Scout all to herself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, ladymatt

For @ladymatt, wishing you a lovely, safe, and happy holiday with this little malec one shot! x

Fantasy au wherein Alec is a guardian angel, Magnus is a demon who makes deals, and maybe they’re not as different as they think.

Read On AO3

*****

Lost and Found

As the flames at Magnus’ feet die out, he takes in his surroundings inquisitively. Beneath his boots are tentative chalk lines, thin and light in places, that connect into a pentagram drawn on a cracked cement floor. The room he is in is vast and all but empty, with high ceilings and exposed metal beams. A warehouse, most likely; the kind of place a human might deem a safe, neutral location for a demon summoning. As he turned to his left, a woman, young in years but with a heaviness weighing on her that belied her age, was staring at him from a few feet away with a tattered hardback journal clutched in one hand.

“You called me,” he stated, standing a few steps away from the barrier line. “I assume that because you did the summoning correctly and seem…prepared, that you know what it is that I do.”

She looked almost startled at being addressed, but the expression lasted only a moment before she held it back with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. “I know what I’m doing,” she asserted, though her voice wavered slightly.

After analyzing the detailing of the pentagram, Magnus touched the tip of his boot to a symbol that had been incorrectly drawn. “It’s an impressive work, but I would suggest you study a bit more next time. This right here…leaves an opening.”

Now the woman looked terrified, frozen in place with her arms encircling her middle protectively.

With a slightly sardonic chuckle, he shook his head. “If I was going to hurt you, I wouldn’t have pointed out your error.” He stepped closer to the edge line, closer to her. “After all, you wish to make a deal, yes? Which means you have something I would be happy to take. I don’t want to ruin that opportunity for myself just yet.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, observing. She had very short hair, so blonde it was practically white, and deep brown, almost black, eyes. Her pupils were almost swallowed up by the darkness of the iris. There was a small smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and dusting the tops of her cheeks, looking oddly childlike in the midst of her worn features. He was well-versed in reading humans after all these centuries, and he could see in her an authenticity that caught his attention. “What’s your name?”

“Alana. Alana Clarke. And I want to make a deal.”

“Well then,” Magnus began, steepling his fingers thoughtfully, “tell me, to what do I owe this summons?”

“I…have something I want to forget.” Her voice wavered slightly on the last word.

“Someone,” Magnus stated in realization. “A deal with me requires specificity, Ms. Clarke.”

It took a moment before she hesitantly elaborated further. “My husband. He was…cold. And unable to love, in the end. I never felt like I could leave him. One day, he snapped and I…I didn’t have a choice. I can’t let the memory of him control my life anymore. I can’t bear to let him change me the way I’m afraid he might.”

Rubbing his fingers together contemplatively, he replied, “That is a very serious choice to make. And one that cannot be undone. As luck would have it, it would be quite easy for me to give you what you’re asking for, but it has a steep price. And not just your soul. Are you certain this is what you want?”

Her silence was only too telling.

With a firm shake of his head, Magnus took a step back. “You must be sure. I am neither judge nor jury; I will only carry out what our deal entails. I urge you strongly to consider this. Memory cannot just be given and taken on a whim. Once I remove it, it will be permanent.”

Alana shook her head with a tired sigh. “I just… I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe, I can’t think… I don’t know how to go on without doing something. I—” Abruptly cutting herself off, she stood up a little straighter and schooled her expression into a carefully curated stoicism. “I have to take the responsibility, and I will.”

It had been a long while since someone with such conviction had come to Magnus like this. Often, those who summoned him didn’t understand the gravity of the situation they were making for themselves, but it was their mistake to make. This time, somehow, he couldn’t bear the thought of allowing her to follow them down that path of regret lurking in the future.

“For your benefit, I will not yet make the deal,” he began. “I require certainty, and I do not see that in you. I’m going to give you another opportunity to think very carefully about just what is worth the price of your soul before you sign it over to me.”

**

The next time Magnus found himself standing in the ash and last embers of unholy flame in the middle of the old warehouse, the person standing opposite him was not Alana Clarke.

Instead, it was a tall, dark haired man with a stern look on his face, standing stock-still with his hands behind his back. He was not entirely mortal, nor human, Magnus realized upon observing the presence of spiritual matter along the lines of his shoulders and down his spine. It also wasn’t lost on him that the man had a blade made of adamas tucked away inside the folds of his jacket. It was an ancient kind of weapon, not only priceless but rare.  

The pentagram Magnus was standing on was far more detailed than the one that Alana had used to summon him, rooted in much stronger magic. The kind of magic that could only be infused by a summoner of great power. “I’m impressed,” he mused, turning in place to observe the rest of the finer detail.

“You made a deal with Alana Clarke,” the man stated coolly, as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “For her soul. And you’re going to have to rescind.”

Magnus couldn’t help but be amused by the situation. “Demon-client confidentiality prevents me from discussing any of this with you, I’m afraid.” But his curiosity was piqued. Especially when he realized that the faint smell of angel blood had permeated the air around them.

Angel blood.

“Of course, I should have realized immediately.” He stepped up to the edge line of the pentagram to look closer. “Which one of Raziel’s guardians are you?”

A soft sigh of exasperation preceded one word: “Alexander.”

“‘Defender of man’, yes? Seems fitting.” If he didn’t know better, Magnus would have said that Alexander preened almost imperceptibly at his words. “And Alana is in your care. Interesting, given the fact that she sought me out.”

The shadows of tenderness that had lingered on Alexander’s face for mere seconds at the mention of her name disappeared altogether as his expression clouded over. “She never should have summoned you. Her grief has blinded her, so I have to be the one to protect her.”

“You almost believed that when you said it.” Magnus of all people knew what lying to oneself looked like. “The truth is, it kills you that you can’t save her from this grief. Your purpose is to protect her, but there are limits to what you can control, and now you have to face them.”

“You can’t undo the past,” Alexander countered, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes in consternation. “And that’s what she truly wants. Whatever you offer her, it won’t be enough.”

“You know what she went through. You know how greatly she mourns—both for what she lost and what was never hers to begin with. There’s no price too steep for peace that can heal that kind of devastation.”

The angel visibly gritted his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping as it flexed. “Rip up the deal and give her soul back.” The slow cadence he spoke with betrayed the anger that he was sealing away inside.

“It might interest you to know that no official contract exists yet. Ms. Clarke hasn’t made her choice, so if you have concerns, you should take them to your charge herself.”

The anger stoked by Magnus’ words became increasingly apparent in Alexander, and he rolled his neck to the side slightly as if trying to shake free of something. “I won’t ask again.” When Magnus offered no reply, he took a few steps back from the pentagram. “Well, you’re welcome to rot here until you change your mind, then.”

If he were a different person, if circumstances were trivial, he would enjoy an indulgent show of his own strength. As it were, Magnus only gloated a little as he stepped over the brusque chalk line meant to confine him. “I have no plans to do any such thing.”

Alexander was speechless, his mouth slightly agape as Magnus moved towards him. “That isn’t possible. No lesser demon can—”

Reaching out with a dark red tendril of magic, Magnus held him still. “Pleased to meet you, Alexander. My name is Magnus Bane, reigning Prince of Edom and son of one of the First Hierarchy—a Knight of Hell.” When their faces were mere inches apart, he offered the faintest of smiles. “Ms. Clarke has sought my protection now, so I suggest you don’t try to interfere again.”    

**

The air in the Hunter’s Moon was thick with the scent of stale alcohol and sweat-slicked bodies, and Magnus relished it. Perhaps it was the hedonistically human part of him, but there was something magnetic about the raw electricity of bodies pressed flush against one another beneath the hot lights.

His attention was diverted, however, when he noticed the man who had just walked in and was making his way to the bar. Alexander stood out in a crowd even when he was dressed down, wearing a grey Henley and jeans.

With a subtle gesture, Magnus caught the eye of a bartender gathering empty glasses abandoned on a nearby table. “The man who just walked in—make him a Vieux Carre.” A neatly folded hundred-dollar bill materialized between his thumb and middle finger, and he offered it to her.

The woman’s bracelets made a delicate jingling sound as she plucked it from his grasp. “He looks intense. Ex of yours?”

With a chuckle, he brushed his thumb tenderly against her chin for a fleeting moment. “Discretion, Maia.”

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Courtesy of?”

“An associate.”

Despite looking thoroughly unconvinced, Maia pocketed the money and Magnus raised his drink to her in gratitude.

“An olive branch?” Alexander guessed a few minutes later, setting his glass down on Magnus’ table.

“Actually, it’s a black cherry garnish.” Magnus plucks the fruit from his glass and takes a bite of the tender flesh. “I figured a drink would be a good icebreaker.”

Alexander dropped down into the chair opposite him. “You don’t look surprised to see me here.”

“You’ve been following me on and off all day, angel. What am I meant to be surprised about?”

His expression darkens, his eyebrows drawn tightly together in consternation. “We haven’t struck an accord yet.”

Shaking his head faintly, Magnus downed the last of his Negroni. “There is nothing to negotiate. You have no claim on the contract between me and my client.”

“She is going to do this if I do not put a stop to it.” Rather than the burn of anger or the cold of hatred, Alexander looked pained to be saying those words. “I want to make a deal.”

Whatever he had been expecting Alexander to say, that certainly wasn’t it. Magnus sat in stunned silence for a beat. “Just to be clear… You want to give me your eternal soul to release Alana Clarke from a contract that she implored me to honor?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t know what he was agreeing to, and yet there was a fierce determination on his face that almost made Magnus wish that it were possible. “Let’s do it.”

“It is not possible, Alexander,” Magnus said somberly. His tone had gone soft despite himself. The desperation in the guardian’s eyes made something in his chest begin to ache. “Even if you did have a soul as the mortals do.”

It almost looked as though the faintest hint of vulnerable desperation was beginning to shine through the cracks of his façade. Instead, with a grunt of frustration, Alexander pushed back from the table and crossed his arms. “She is under my protection, Magnus.”

“In a manner of speaking, she’s under mine too.”

“If you control Edom, why even spend your time making deals for souls? Isn’t that beneath you?” he retorted heatedly.

“It’s not about the souls. It never has been,” Magnus found himself saying. It had never been in his nature to be transparent, and frankly he had never had a reason to try. The way that Alexander wore his feelings so genuinely compelled him to reciprocate. “The lesser demons who skulk around crossroads and manipulate the avaricious and covetous do so by nature. I choose the worthy summoners, the ones who want nothing more or less than resolution, and offer them peace.”

Staring down into his glass, Alexander heaved a sigh of frustration. “Indulging their emotions is not the same as protecting them.”

“That depends on who you are protecting them from, hmm?”

Something in those words seemed to reach Alexander in a way that nothing else between them had. His shoulders hunched wearily, as though a great burden had been dropped and left foregone. “I don’t know,” he surrendered.

**

Thunder rattled the window panes of the penthouse as the storm outside grew stronger, and Magnus could feel the glass shivering beneath his fingers where they were pressed on either side of Alexander’s body. They were both mostly clothed, but where their bare skin touched, it felt like fire. Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the otherwise darkened living room, so Magnus used the cacophony of harsh exhales and soft moans to guide his movements.

It had to be the most profane act, because it felt like salvation.

“Nnnnh,” Alexander moaned, reaching up for Magnus’ hands blindly and intertwining their fingers.

More or less restrained, Magnus put more power into the movement of his hips. It was an inexplicable desperation that had led them to this, and now it was boiling in his blood and driving him forward.

The pleasure crested, and for one perfect moment, everything felt simple—they were just two people who found relief in wanting one another. That was how they had ended up here, after all; a categorically innocuous moment had somehow set Magnus’ skin on fire with how greatly he yearned to touch him, and everything between them had unraveled before he could do anything but follow in its wake.

For weeks the tenacious guardian had been nothing but a thorn in his side, but then all at once, something changed and Magnus could no longer remember how to simply dislike him. Perhaps he put too much stock in his heart—or whatever the son of a Greater Demon was capable of containing—to ever stay free of falling prey to the way of the mortal world. All he knew now, though, was that he felt dread like an ache in his chest at the unavoidable truth that Alexander would leave.  

“Don’t leave,” Magnus whispered breathlessly in Alexander’s ear. “You can stay the night. I want you to.”

In reply, Alexander nodded and pressed an almost reticent kiss to his lips. “I’ve already crossed the line, what’s another step?” Even pressed together in such an achingly intimate embrace, there was a hesitance in him. Perhaps he was telling himself this was a big mistake, and he would hate Magnus in the morning.

It wouldn’t be the first time, at least, so he would drink away the pain in the evening and be remade again in the morning.

Already in a sloppy state of undress, they both peeled off their remaining layers of clothing and let them fall in a heap on the bedroom floor before crawling beneath the sheets. Magnus had slept alone for so long that his heart twisted in his chest at the feeling of a warm body beside him.

Once Magnus had settled into the mattress and was lying still, Alexander slid his foot between Magnus’ calves and pressed their bodies closer. His hands were more diffident in their movements, slowly tracing a path down Magnus’ forearm and over the bone of his wrist before loosely intertwining their fingers.

He closed his eyes for a moment, just to savor this fragile piece of time, but when he opened them again, it was morning. The deep orange and red of the sunrise bathed the bedroom in a warm glow, and illuminated Alexander where he was perched on the edge of the bed. “Are you going somewhere?”

The muscles in Alexander’s upper back rippled beneath his alabaster skin as he tensed. “I didn’t want to wake you,” was all he said, but for just a moment, his eyes lingered on Magnus as if he were hoping for a rebuttal.

“We don’t have to keep doing this to each other, acting as though we’re so unalike.”

That made him look away, and he stood with his back to Magnus as he adjusted the cuff of his shirt sleeve absently. “Yes, we do. We have to be.”

“God himself created even the avenging angels in his image,” Magnus replied with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

With a wry, all but humorless laugh, Alexander shook his head. “That’s not the point, Magnus! What kind of guardian allows the ones he looks after to pawn their souls for resolutions?” He turned back to face him with hard resolve.

Magnus couldn’t help but be reminded of the volatile, at times impetuous, young man he was. He had been quick to anger, holding himself in contempt for all the things that were out of his control. “Alexander—this is her life. Do you truly prefer that she suffer through this mortal existence when that is all she gets?”

“I have failed spectacularly in the past to do the one thing I’m meant to do, and I won’t let that happen again.” Grabbing his jacket from the floor, he shrugged it on and stalked off.

**

“I’m ready,” Alana declared without preamble.

A smattering of Edom’s red dirt shook loose from the tread of Magnus’ boots as he strode over to her. “I told you that the next time you summoned me you would need to be certain. If this is your decision, then all that is left is your contract.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Magnus held up his hand and angled it above her chest. “All this requires is a mark left on your soul, like an earmark. It binds you to me.” With a languid flutter of his fingers, a deep blue energy emitted from them and seeped beneath her skin. The pulsing of her heartbeat was thrummed against his magic and he could feel it as if her heart itself were in the palm of his hand. With a final push, the energy ensnared her soul, wrapping around it like ivy on a vine and pressing in to leave behind an intricate lace of markings.

She shivered faintly and let out a short, sharp exhale. “It feels like ice.”

“It should not last long,” he assured her as he pulled his hand back. “Now, taking your memories will be painless; simply stand very still.”

As soon as he began to probe her memories, her eyes clouded over into a haze of milky white. In brief flashes, he could see through her eyes flashes of the past that she had hidden away. He could feel a tangled web of emotions, each vying for pride of place. He could hear a cacophony of her name echoing in millions of different tones and inflections. Each piece pulled at her, nearly tearing her apart from the tension about to snap. Extracting them was like sucking the poison from a wound, leaving a bitter residue behind. It had been left to fester for so long that in places the memories were like rot, but in time, they all came away. “You’re purely your own now,” Magnus whispered in Alana’s ear, and with that, he vanished from her side.

For a moment, he just stood in the alleyway behind the warehouse, breathing in the damp, cold air of the rain’s end. A few droplets dotted his face and neck, and he closed his eyes to savor it. In Edom, there was no such relief like a storm.

Suddenly, he felt a presence in the shadows, familiar and passive.

“Come to spy, angel?”

Emerging soundlessly, Alexander stood with his arms folded behind him like a soldier poised in wait.

Quirking an eyebrow, Magnus turned to face him directly. “Are you going to start a street brawl for what she willingly gave me?”

The guardian almost smiled at that, and it put Magnus more at ease. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? Actually, don’t answer that. I have a feeling I would not like the answer.” Shaking his head, Alexander continued. “I was here when Alana summoned you. But I… I decided you were right, Magnus.”

“Sorry?”

Despite himself, Alexander chuckled wryly. “I could be cast out for what I have done, but protecting the mortals entrusted to me is worth any price.”

Magnus looked at him skeptically. “Forgive me if I am hesitant to accept your truce, Alexander.”

“Who said anything about a truce?” Though his words were antagonistic, his tone was peaceable. “But I suppose I should thank you for what you taught me.”

Holding up a hand to stop him, Magnus shook his head. “Please, angel. We are not obliged to such extreme shows of good faith. Besides, Edom would freeze over, and then where would I be?”

Alexander awkwardly shifted closer. “Here’s hoping we remain acquaintances from afar.”

“As if,” Magnus waved off, pressing in closer until their chests were flush. “You like me too much.”

“I never said that,” Alexander managed breathlessly before leaning in to join their lips in a kiss that could grow a whole garden from Edom’s barren desert sand.

**

For all of its flaws, Magnus decided that he liked Brooklyn. Edom was his domain, but perhaps this could be his home.

Penthouse One had become more or less a safe haven, oddly enough. The balcony provided the perfect place for his morning meditations, the living room could host a great many guests, and the apothecary was quaint and studious. And perhaps he was indulging in feeling like a mortal at times, but what else was he to do when he was topside so frequently?

The soft click of the door opening made Magnus set down his martini and move towards the entryway curiously. In the hall, he saw a figure cloaked in a long black coat with a hood concealing their face. Boots stained with dirt and dried blood left a faint trail on the wood floor, and the bow over their shoulder was battered with scratches and dings.

“Alexander, you’re home early.”

Shaking his head free from the hood, Alexander revealed his bloodied face. “I gave myself the rest of the night off.”

With a disapproving tsk, Magnus guided his chin away from him to get a better look at the trails of crimson oozing down from his temple and cheekbone. “No rest for the wicked, hmm?”

Alexander rolled his eyes as he allowed Magnus to steer him to the couch. “I think I may have broken a rib,” grunted as he lowered himself onto a cushion.

“Take your jacket and shirt off so I can see.” Magnus gingerly sat beside him and helped to maneuver his arms from the sleeves. His knuckles faintly brushed Alexander’s upper back and his whole body tensed in reflex. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, carefully working around the cloth that covered two deep, distinct scars where Alexander’s wings had been ripped from his back some time ago. They looked much like his father’s. As soon as they worked together to peel Alexander’s t-shirt off, Magnus couldn’t help but lean over and brush his lips, faint as a whisper, against the point between his shoulder blades between the dark V-shaped scarring. “Now, let me take a look.”

“Here.” With some difficulty, Alexander rolled slightly to his left side, revealing a blossoming bruise against the side of his rib cage. After just a gentle probing of Magnus’ finger tips against the tender skin, he jerked away. “Fuck.”

“Was it worth the fight, Night Arrow?” Magnus asked with a faint smile, unearthing a package of alcohol swabs from the first aid kit they kept hidden beneath the couch for just such an occasion.

“Always. I have to do something, right?” The bitter edge in voice would likely always be there at the mention of his being cast down. The scars on his back were a reminder he would never need, because Magnus knew he could never forget.

Magnus himself would likely always be haunted by the events of the night Alexander fell from Heaven. The sight of him when he stumbled to Magnus’ door, drenched in sweat and pale as death as he bled through the scraps of fabric he had wrapped himself in still felt too unbearable to recall. Even as a mortal, he still found a way to dedicate himself to the protection of the innocent, and Magnus could never begrudge him that.

“There’s something else that might help,” he murmured, wincing as he scratched absently at the drying blood on his forehead.

Setting down the swabs, Magnus straightened up to look at him.

“A kiss.”

“A kiss,” Magnus echoed, a grin spreading across his lips. “What will you give me for it? Your everlasting soul?”

Alexander dropped his chin and his lips parted just enough to tenderly take Magnus’ finger into his mouth. His tongue was warm and soft, and Magnus felt that all too human feeling of butterflies in his stomach. Releasing him with a quiet pop, Alexander smiled. “That’s not mine to give anymore. It’s already yours.”