#GREY'S HER REAL DAD ANYWAY

[dylanconrique]

obsessed with the idea of lucy’s parents visiting the precinct, only to start berating her in the lobby, and grey stepping in like, “i will not have you belittle one of my very best officers in my building. now, i’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

[seijorhi]

invidia ii

a (very belated) christmas present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy who has, for two years straight, begged me for more shinnosuke content. i hope you like it bby! kuroo tetsurou x female reader, kuroo shinnosuke (oc) x female reader part i w.c 3.1k tw: noncon/dubcon, slight daddy kink, (forced) infidelity, yandere themes, nsfw, smut, age gap, i guess hints of breeding kink, dilf kuroo

“Why did your parents split up?”

Mid-way through pulling on a pair of old, grey sweatpants, mopping at beads of water from his shower still rolling down his bare chest, Shinnosuke throws you a curious look, but shrugs easily enough.

“They weren’t ever really ‘together’ to begin with. They tried the whole co-parenting thing to start with but mom… they never loved each other. Hell, I don’t even think they liked each other most of the time beyond–” he breaks off, his nose wrinkling in distaste. It almost makes you laugh. “Anyway, dad always said she had one foot out the door from the start. Dad was the one who stuck around to raise me.” There’s no animosity in his tone, he says it like it’s the simple truth. You’ve never met the woman, never having shown up to any of the Nekoma games, his graduation, any of it. You’ve seen a picture or two, overheard the odd phone call, but for as long as you’ve known him, the only real parent in Shin’s life has always been his dad.

If there’s anyone he idolises, it’s his father.

 Which is why the words that he says next – casting aside the damp towel in the general direction of the laundry basket (boys) and sauntering on over to join you in bed – take you entirely by surprise. “We’ll go visit her in Golden Week. I want her to meet you.”

And again, the words are just that; words. Shin kisses you, a sweet peck on your lips, and wastes no time in scooping you back into his arms and settling back with a contented sigh. They’re just words, but there’s this look in his eyes when he says it that makes you think he means something more. 

Your stomach flutters.

—

‘You really wanna break his heart like that, kitten?’

—

“Still not feeling any better?” Shin asks, brushing your hair back to feel your forehead. The beginnings of a frown start to take shape, teeth gently burrowing into his bottom lip, but he straightens and sighs, and that hint of discontent smoothes over like it had never existed in the first place. He strokes your hair again and offers a small, sympathetic smile. “No temperature, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

You’re a coward.

“It’s not my head, I just…” don’t have any visible, plausible symptoms for the fake illness that’s currently keeping you curled up in Shin’s bed. Away from the creep who’d smiled and fucking winked at you Christmas morning. “I just feel off.”

“Poor baby,” he coos, laughing when your face screws up and you swat at him.

Right now, swaddled in his hoodie, his fingers carding through your hair and that stupid, impish, almost believable grin beaming down at you, you want to forget. To pretend. 

Because there’s a pit in your stomach. A bitter, gnarled, seething mass. This moment right now, in Shin’s bed, it’s like glass, paper thin and already cracked, it can’t possibly last, and yet you’re clinging to it so desperately, head buried in the sand, willing yourself to pretend, from one heartbeat to the next, that what’s happened won’t break the two of you. 

That your stomach doesn’t threaten to upend when you catch sight of those hazel eyes peering down at you – the same shape and shade as his father’s.

You shudder out a breath, and what little levity there was between you two gets sucked out with it. Shin’s expression gutters.

Yeah. 

His fingers don’t leave your hair, though. Playing idly with the strands as though the suffocating tension in the room doesn’t exist at all. “Dad’s taking us out to dinner tonight,” he tells you. Reminds you, because you knew all of this beforehand. Everything but the party. “Do you want me to run by the pharmacy to get you something?”

Another tap at the fractured glass. 

That’s Shinnosuke all over, isn’t it? You might’ve been the manager back in the day, but it was always Shin who kept an eye on his team, on you, to make sure everyone was good. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll–” the words get stuck in your throat. “I’ll see how I feel in an hour or so. ‘m still a little tired.” 

“You want some tea, sweetheart?”

‘Shh, sweetheart, you gotta keep it down.’

A cold sweat breaks out on the nape of your neck. No. No, no, no, no–

“Baby?”

You flinch like he’s slapped you, jerking away from the hand he’s wound in your hair. The startled look he shoots you borders on wounded, but you’re already squirming towards the edge of the bed, stumbling to your feet like a newborn foal. “Bathroom,” you manage to eke out, your voice sounding far too strangled and hoarse to pass as anywhere near the realm of fine. 

Shin doesn’t follow, doesn’t so much as utter a word – all kicked puppy confused – as you throw the door closed behind you and collapse back against it, a sweaty, ashen mess. 

He usually calls you love. Baby. Princess when he’s being a little shit. 

Sweetheart’s a rare one. 

Your heart races, a runaway train pounding in your chest. His eyes, his touch, sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart.

Another shuddering breath in. Out. 

Fuck. 

There’s a knock – not at the ensuite door, the sound’s too muffled for that, and you didn’t hear Shin’s footsteps (though you’re not sure you would, over the pounding in your ribs) meaning that the knocking’s at his door. 

There’s only one other occupant in the house. Though you try your damndest to fight it, there’s no stopping the wave of panic that stabs through you. Shin’s door creaks open, soft voices barely creeping through the gap in the door, and your fingers go rigid, nails clawing at the black and white flooring as though you can ground yourself by breaking through it instead. 

You don’t realise you’re crying.

Not until the droplets splatter on the tiles by your feet.

—

You should’ve left days ago.

After Christmas, when you’d ducked out from under Shin’s arm and lurched for the nearest bathroom, when it’d finally clicked for him that you violently hurling your guts up wasn’t the result of a simple hangover, you’d tried. Short of admitting the truth – and swinging a bat at the bees’ nest – convincing Shin to leave his dad’s place goes about as well as drawing blood from a stone. 

He’s even less thrilled about the prospect of you going back by yourself, leaving him to spend what’s left of the week with his dad like they’d planned.

There’s only so far you can push without breaking something. You, probably. You and Shin, almost definitely. 

Even so, you might’ve had more of a backbone if he hadn’t been so… Shin. All coaxing and concerned. Logical to a damn fault. 

‘You don’t wanna be stuck in a car driving for hours when you’re feeling shitty, love, and besides, dad’s place is bigger than ours. Comfier. You’ll probably be on the mend by tomorrow anyway, so there’s no point in us heading back.’

If you weren’t trying to salvage what’s left, or maybe clinging to the idea that you can – and want to – then it would’ve been easier just to go.

You wouldn’t still be here, stuck in the house of the man who’d– who’d raped you.

You wouldn’t be avoiding your boyfriend’s eye.

You would’ve screamed the whole house down before Kuroo Tetsurou ever bent you over the kitchen counter.

But the gentle extrication in the early hours of the morning, Shinnosuke’s lips brushing against your cheek, the sleepy rasp of his voice as he mumbles a quiet, “Love you,” before slipping away – you barely stir, cozy and safe and content.

He loves you. Shin loves you. 

A while later – minutes, maybe, or hours, it’s hard to tell when you’re still in the grips of sleep – the mattress dips under Shin’s weight, and those strong, sculpted arms seek your warmth again, you only sigh and lean back against him. 

“I love you,” you whisper, not yet willing to open your eyes and face another day of lying to him. 

The arm slung over your waist curls tighter, his face nuzzling into your neck. The kisses he leaves there aren’t affectionate, exactly, they’re not gentle, when teeth catch, nipping sharply at your skin, only to be soothed by a lave of his tongue.

And the laugh that rumbles at your back – a shade off your boyfriend’s – is anything but nice. 

“Yeah? Fuck, you’re sweet in the morning.”

This time, you don’t hold back. You shriek, kicking out like a wild thing – or you would have, if Kuroo’s hand hadn’t clamped down on your mouth, if his weight hadn’t shifted so that rather than lying curled up behind you, he’s half on top of you, pinning you down to the mattress with a thigh lodged between yours. 

“Uh-uh-uh, we were doing so good, kitten. Don’t you wanna be daddy’s good girl?”

Your only answer is a ragged noise, torn from somewhere deep inside of you. He chuckles again, grinds against you, his cock a thick, unignorable presence pressed at your ass. There’s nothing but the thin cotton of your sleep shorts separating it from you, and from past experience, that barrier won’t do much to deter him for long.

Kuroo rolls you onto your back and slots himself nicely between your legs. Naked, you realise with a fresh stab of fear.

You scream the moment his palm leaves your lips to capture your wrists, scream for Shinnosuke – for anyone – so loudly that it feels like you’ll bleed for it. Let him come running, find you pinned and squirming, terrified beneath the man who raised him.

Let it be the final crack that obliterates everything. 

If Shin sees you like this, utterly petrified, on the verge of being raped again and still thinks it some kind of a betrayal, let him choke on it. You don’t care anymore, you just want someone to stop this. 

(Shin wouldn’t, would he?)

But Kuroo only snickers. Leans over to lick along the edge of your lashes, where hot, glistening tears are already spilling over, trickling down to disappear in your hairline. “Your boy’s not here, but we don’t have long ‘til he gets back. You’ll forgive me if we bypass the foreplay this morning, right, sweetheart?” You shudder, goosebumps prickling where his breath washes over you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and violently – pointlessly – shake your head. “We’ll have to save eating your pretty little cunt for next time.”

All too eager, he hungrily captures your lips again and yanks down your shorts, taking your panties along with them.

Christmas morning, you’d been shoved face down over the kitchen counter while he’d fucked you from behind. You’d give anything for that distance right now. At least then you hadn’t had to endure his suffocating warmth, having him squeeze and grope at your tits over your old, threadbare tee.

You wouldn’t have to writhe away from his mouth while he rucks your bare thighs up either side of his hips, dragging you closer.

Even with your eyes screwed tightly shut, you can’t pretend that this isn’t happening as Kuroo spits and a heartbeat later the thick head of his cock slowly – agonisingly slowly – splits you apart.

You forget how to breathe. 

Eyes popping open and back arching up into his chest, your fists clutch desperately at the sheets of Shin’s bed, trying to squirm away, only the grip he has on you makes sure there’s nowhere for you to escape to. He’s big, long, mostly, and you’re too tight to take him easily, especially without any prep. The spit doesn’t help any, and Kuroo doesn’t care, groaning out in pleasure as inch by inch he pushes himself deeper, until at last he’s seated firmly inside of you. “Good fucking giiiirl,” he purrs, a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose.

A tiny, drawn out whine is all you can manage when your lower half radiates pain. 

“Gonna fuck this perfect pussy nice ‘n full,” he tells you. “Give you everything you need, sweet girl. You can take it. I know you can, you just gotta breathe for me.”

But unlike last time, he doesn’t allow you the luxury of a minute to adjust. His hips draw back and punch forward, jolting another mewling gasp from your lips. And again. And again. The pace isn’t violent so much as intense, like each thrust ignites something inside of him that burns for more.

He clasps your wrists in one hand, pants into your open mouth between frenetic kisses, groans out your name in that shuddering gasp.

“Mine,” he pants, beads of sweat dripping from his chest, his chin, rolling down onto you. “You’re daddy’s girl– fuck!”

Your cunt reacts accordingly, flexing around his cock, easing its passage so that the wet, lurid sounds of him fucking you quickly fill the air. A betrayal that has your cheeks flaming. 

The muscles in your thighs burn, Kuroo all but forcing them back towards the bed, his weight driving into you with fervour. A quick adjustment to the angle of your hip and his cock hits a spot deep inside of you that has you choking on a moan of your own, a burst of bright, sizzling pleasure bleeding through the pain.

Kuroo grins ferally at the sound of it. Drops his weight on an elbow and bucks into you, hitting it again. Your inner walls twitch, squeezing and slick, dragging noises from you that make you wanna burn with shame – that, or cut yourself loose entirely. You can’t muster resistance when he swallows them down, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth. His momentum turns rabid, his hand no longer encircling your wrists, but entangled with them, pressing them down to the mattress. “Almost… there…” he grunts, gasping as he curls over you, abs flexing.

A shudder rolls through him, his hips faltering just as something vital shatters inside of you, toes curling, white hot pleasure exploding from your core, rippling through your whole body like the aftershocks of an earthquake. With your pussy spasming around his cock, your body taut and locked with pleasure, Kuroo hurtles off that cliff right alongside you, a strangled noise somewhere between a moan and a growl escaping him as he pumps your cunt full of his seed, all but collapsing atop of you afterwards.

It takes a minute before he peels himself off of you; pushing himself up, braced on elbow so that he’s not crushing you entirely, Kuroo waits, buried inside your warmth, for you to stop trembling with the after effects of your orgasm, for his cock to soften and both of your breathing to even out. 

Waits for those glazed over eyes to focus back on him and once again fill with tears, stroking a hand through your sweat-dampened hair as he does so.

“You should go take a shower before Shin gets home,” he says after a minute or two, his voice a low purr. “He can’t be far off.”

But aside from rolling off you to allow you up, Kuroo makes no moves to follow you, or so much as get up off the bed. Naked, his cock soft and glistening with your juices, one knee propped up, he watches you stumble like a newborn foal into the bathroom (only half managing to close the door behind you) with damn near predatory intent, a smirk teasing at his lips.

It’s where Shin finds you a short while later, curled up on the floor of the shower, shaking through silent sobs. 

—

Shin doesn’t let go of your hand the entire trip home.

Uncharacteristically sober, he says little aside from the occasional murmur to check in with you – always unanswered – and keeps you tucked close, as though a fraction of distance between you might pry you from his side entirely. 

The hours pass in a haze of… nothing. Your tears dry. Numbness takes over. You move like a robot, Shin guiding you every step of the way until you cross the threshold of your apartment.

He never asks what happened. You suppose the smell of sex in his bedroom and the bruises and love bites scattered over your body tell the tale well enough. Shinnosuke’s never been stupid. He’s not dense. 

He’s not heartless, either.

In the sanctity of your tiny, shitty bathroom, you shower again. A proper shower this time, with the water turned up full blast, scrubbing viciously at your skin– or at least, you do until he steps in and takes over. You’ve never thought of your boyfriend as particularly gentle, but he pries the loofah from your hand with a delicacy you didn’t know him capable of and takes care of you, cleaning you up with a tenderness that borders on reverence.

You pretend not to notice how his eyes (so like his, sharp and hazel) narrow into a scowl every time he spots another bruise, another mark left by his father. Once or twice his fingers begin to ghost over them, burgundy fingerprints on your thigh, a love bite sucked into the delicate skin above your collarbone, only to catch himself, swallowing tightly and resuming his task like he’d never faltered in the first place. 

When you’re done, he dries you both off and helps you into fresh clothes – a pair of comfy sweatpants and an old hoodie of his and guides you back to the living room, setting you down into his lap on the couch.

“I–” his voice is hoarse. Quiet, especially in the stillness of the apartment, and when you glance his way, he awkwardly clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I went to the pharmacy. I thought– I thought…” he trails off again, dropping his gaze. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Your heart twists, and it’s your turn to comfort him. Or maybe you’re comforting each other, shifting slightly in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around him and draw him in close, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of him. “No. I– it wasn’t…” but the words don’t come. You flounder. 

What are you supposed to say? It wasn’t his fault? Wasn’t yours?

You should’ve said something earlier? Should’ve fought back harder – against both of them, should’ve grown a spine?

A beat passes in the tense, thick silence, and when it becomes clear that you’ve got nothing for him, he makes an odd sort of huff that sounds almost irritated. You frown a little, but you don’t fight it when his arms pull tighter around you, when his cheek comes to a rest against your hair and his hands seek yours, curling around your wrists and stroking at the skin there. 

“We’ll get through this,” he vows. “I love you, this doesn’t change anything. It won’t change anything.” His lips meet the crown of your head in a soft kiss. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

[xxchumanixx]

Hey can you make a part two of the Grey daughter part where the whole team finds out about them when she comes to drop off lunch for Grey and Tim and they starts to tease Tim about it

My Man

(sequel to 'Not just any man')

Tim Bradford x Grey!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a little angst I guess? But only if you squint real hard Word count: 1.265 Authors Note: Hello love, thanks for the request! Hope you'll like it! Enjoy!

You hated your mom sometimes.

When she asked about Tim's favorite food, you should have known something was up.

Or, rather, she was up to something.

You told her, nonetheless, being sent off with two paper bags not long after, told to bring your dad and Tim lunch.

Tim's favorite.

She did it on purpose, trying to have you show your affection for him more openly, around his colleagues. They were already having their own suspicions and rumors about you two, you just hadn't noticed, yet.

So, when you walked into the mid wilshire department, carrying two hot bags in your hands, you first made your way to your dad. He was in his office, blinds up so you could see that he was hunched over some paperwork, glasses on his nose.

Not bothering to knock, you let yourself in, his gaze lifting as he heard the door. "Honey." he greeted you, removing the glasses. "What are you doing here?"

Holding up the bags you walked over, placing one in front of him. "Mom cooked." you explained, cocking a brow. "Wanted to know what's Tim's favorite food and sent me on the way to deliver some."

His head tilted, sending you a pointed look and you sighed. "I know, I know." you murmured, arms flailing at your sides to emphasize your words. "I couldn't stop her."

He shook his head, suspiciously sniffing at the bag. His hands wrapped around it, taking a hold of the plastic container inside. "Tell your mom thank you." he told you, sending you a grateful smile and you nodded.

"Will do."

Then you turned back around, walking back out to find Tim.

Grey took another sniff of the contents in the bag, humming to himself in surprise. Whatever Bradford's favorite food was, it definitely smelled good - not that he would have admitted it out loud, though.

You asked Smitty where Tim was and he directed you into the direction of the detectives, where you spotted him.

He was looking good in his uniform, ass hugged deliciously, as you made your way straight towards him.

"Oh my god." Angela gasped, causing Nyla's gaze to follow hers. "No way." she muttered, eyes as wide as Angela's. "Isn't this Grey's daughter? Why is she- Oh!" she cut herself off, as realization hit her.

"Bradford and her are a thing!"

Tim held himself from cursing under his breath, instead sending you a smile, even though it was forced. He hadn't missed the way Lopez and Harper perked up at your arrival.

You had basically made a beeline for him, not leaving any room for imagination.

"I'm bringing you lunch." you told him, returning the smile, holding up the paper bag in your hand. "And for my dad. Mom insisted that I'd bring you some, too."

He cocked a brow, huffing slightly. "Of course she did."

You chuckled, handing him the bag. "Made your favorite." you told him, sending him a wink. His eyes closed as he inhaled deeply, chuckling as they opened again. "Of course she did." he repeated himself, looking inside the bag.

He would have been lying if he said it didn't smell good.

It smelled fucking delicious.

"I'm guessing she wants the others to know." you spoke, biting your lip. "She wants to show you off as her daughter's boyfriend or something."

One of his brows lifted again, and you shrugged your shoulders. "Don't ask me." you gave back, shaking your head with a smile. "Anyways, I just wanted to bring you the food and see you."

He smiled a smile of his own, softened around the edges. "Thank you." he said, head tilting downwards the slightest bit. "And your mother."

You nodded, suppressing the urge to kiss him. You would have plenty of time to kiss him after his shift.

"I'm gonna go, then." you told him, and he nodded. "See you later." he gave back, hesitating, as he took a step closer, voice lowering to almost a whisper. "I love you."

Grinning, you shook your head. "I love you too." Then you turned around and left, but not without looking back at him.

Lucy plopped up at Tim's side almost immediately after you left, tearing him from his dreamy state. She looked at him knowingly, biting her lip to hide the smile that was threatening to take over.

"What's that look?" he wanted to know, brows furrowed as he tilted his head at her. "Oh, nothing." she quipped, smirking up at him. "That's so sweet of her to bring you lunch. I wonder why, though."

She had to be kidding, Tim thought.

Of course, she knew why you were bringing him lunch. She just wanted to hear it out of his mouth, admit that he was dating Grey's daughter.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of you - quite the opposite, really. He would have shouted it into the open world if he could, but he didn't want anyone to think that he was just using you, or you him.

Your dad was a cop, so of course you had to find someone with a badge as well, right?

Bullshit.

He would have willingly taken it up with anyone, if they just so much as dared to think like this about you.

Before he could respond, Angela and Nyla joined them, causing Tim to groan inwardly.

He was screwed.

"What was that?" Angela wanted to know, failing to hide her grin. She was happy for him, but she also wanted to tease him a bit.

Tim rolled his eyes, mocking her grin with one of his own in pure sarcasm. "What do you mean?" he retorted, clutching the bag to his chest subconsciously.

Nyla started to laugh, sending him a pointed look. "Please." she made, brows raised. "We all know what that was. Bradford is knocking Grey's daughter."

His face grew pale at her choice of words, instinctively falling into defense mode. "I'm not knocking her or anything." he told her, voice sharp as she bit down on a grin.

Of course she didn't mean it like that, but what other way to get him to talk other than this?

Angela must have picked up on her train of thought, whilst Lucy stood by and watched the scene unfold.

"Yeah, Tim, why don't you tell us what's going on between you and mini Grey?" Angela wanted to know, tilting her head with her arms crossed over her chest.

Tim winced at the mini Grey, shaking his head as he slowly came to terms with having to tell to them. They wouldn't stop bothering him, if he didn't.

"Y/N and I are in a relationship." he announced, looking between them only to find knowing smirks. "And you all knew already. Why make me spill it then?"

Lucy chuckled, her and Angela sharing a look. "Because you're grumpy and refuse to tell us about your private life." she explained, looking up at him.

He bit his cheek, swallowing the anger flaring up. "And this is exactly why I refuse to!" he retorted, shaking his head. "Because you all are fucking teases and wouldn't leave me in peace."

Angela scoffed, still smiling though.

"We're all happy for you, Bradford." she told him, her hand brushing over his arm. "We're just noisy assbutts, that want to snoop in your private life. Don't mind us, we'll just be sitting in the back, eating popcorn."

Tim sighed, shaking his head again. "Wouldn't have expected anything different." he returned with a huff. Nyla smirked, hand on her hips.

"And that's exactly why you love us."

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[fuumiku]

Selkie AU

Ok so on discord we went off. A lot of this is just paraphrasing or copy pasted from buddies hii guys. It’s honestly a fun concept to play with no matter how you turn it around~ I’ll start off with the version I drew these doodles for but it’s all under the cut because it got so long... There’s also always place for different flavors like if they realize the other’s a selkie immediately or over time, etc etc so this is all just food for thought. Marcille is always the instigator though lol, obsessed with him no matter the universe. As a selkie wants to learn more about this human and as a researcher is chasing after this secretive mysterious sea-guy while he very much tries to escape everyone’s attention.

Fisherman Chil & selkie Marcille

Old sad fisherman Chilchuck… He drinks out at sea even. Divorcee dad who’s got nothing waiting for him on land anymore. He’s on the sea every day to get fish to sell at the wet market or to the butcher, the sky and sea’s grey and everything’s dull and tedious. Seals are nothing special either. The only stuff he knows about selkies really could have some selkie storybooks he reads to his daughters. Meanwhile selkie Marcille… You could go a lot of different routes I feel. You know I feel like being a selkie fits with Marcille and her mom, with that interaction of "you’ll have to let others go and deal with that", like in this AU she’ll always be different and will have to leave people behind for the sea eventually here and there and whatnot…

Chilchuck and worksongs... Fisherman Chilchuck singing sea shanties while selkie Marcille sings her songs of the sea and then she hears him and gets curious and follows him back on land or something…… Tries to blend in with humans just so she’s like. What’s his deal. But them only meeting out at sea is very cute as well. Eventually she gets on his boat and they hang out. Melancholic psychological horror sea tragedy-romance would be fun idk. Maybe he starts hearing a woman sing out at sea randomly and thinks it’s the alcohol. But he’d be a goner already lmao. Like don’t get me wrong it’d take a while of actual interactions for him to actually fall in love, but also ~~he’s lonely~~ pretty blonde woman waaaa. Siren imagery hehe. "Hmmm I didn't know selkies had hypnotic voices as well" (they don't. he's down outrageous and he knows it.) Mr "in denial so bad maybe magic is the answer yep for sure". I want her to hear him singing something he used to for his daughters/wife etc and shes like 👁️👁️ who hurt this man........... (Could also work for selkie Chil) What’s his tragic backstory…..

I think marcille also deserves to go silly and catch a carp between her teeth, giving it to chilchuck batting her eyelashes like teehee... I'm such a good assistant right... He needs them undamaged if he wants to sell them but he still makes use of her gift anyway... Puts it in a stew and shares it with her... Something we made together..… Marcille being able to taste human food with actual spices and actual heat and actual cooked meat... His home is the warmest place on the surface. His hugs are more comforting than even the water’s. AGH and how long hasn’t he eaten a real homecooked meal you’d bet 😭 Marcille notices he’s underweight and is like "he’s always fishing though??? Does he just need like, a lot??" and takes it upon herself to bring him more fish to feed him. "He NEEDS to blubber up. I know it." Do you think when his wife was still there he'd come home to the smell of cooking.... but now there's nothing......... He’s on his own, he sleeps in the boat… It just smell like fish all day. The stench gets to him and even the burn of alcohol in his nostrils is a kinder hell. NOW he comes back to the stench of roting flesh and he's like :))) ahh.... my gi rl firned 💖 /j

Selkie Marcille getting onto his boat out of nowhere and slapping the beer bottle out of his hand. It’d go hard if he’s so drunk once that he’s leaning over the railing with his bottle hanging down from his grip and the beer goes into the sea and she tastes it and is like. Now what the fuck is this. Ew. He doesn’t look so good maybe I should splash him with water. She could save him from drowning... Girl who puts him on a rock somewhere until he wakes up and hides in the water as soon as he comes to… Peekinh at him from the surface of the water because, oh dear we're shy now because it's face to face… Drawing parallels between swaying (drunk) and swaying (motion of boat on the sea). She sways his world…… Makes him feel dizzy in a nice, light airy way…… He crashes into his bed in his home and still feels the rocking of the waves under him, and he falls asleep thinking of her…

Go out to the sea in a storm because you can’t stand feeling useless. The sea is your livelihood, it's where you're good and useful. On land you never know what to do with your hands. Maybe he should just let the sea pull him under. let it sweep him away.  Marcille does exactly that, but it's not something that erases him. It's not something that swallows him whole. It's something that shows him a whole other world- The coral reefs, the schools of fish that exist below, the lush seaweed forests that Marcille treasures so much. It's all been there for him to see, theres so much beneath his feet. And all he had to do was let her take his hand. This world full of fish and creatures he's caught and gutted... that he gets to see in a different light…… The idea of him trusting her enough to let her lead him underwater... I think the time that Marcille leads him into the water should be on one beautiful evening, with the water shimmering, and the sun casting rays onto the waters surface- enough that it's still scary at first, enough that Chilchuck still struggles against the salty grasp of the waves, but when marcille takes him under he can see just how the light of the sun casts its spotlight on the seafloor- and how even in the shallows therein lies a thousand wonders, ones he's stepped right over before. I'm just obsessed with chilchuck experiencing a whole nother world in there. Give me childlike wonder. Give me a Marcille who wants to show her grump fucking fisherman boyfriend the cute fishies and the minnows, the pretty hermit crabs. Something about the sea looking different from beneath the waves... The parallels of him on the beach stepping over shells and urchins in the shallows with his boots and just crush them right over, not even noticing he did from force of habit and routine having dulled everything… Him working on the sea all the time but never really seeing it because he’s so absorbed in his own shit and he always just uses the harbor so there’s never real contact with it anyways. When the sea water laps at his forearms when he reels the net in but they feel like lashes of frost against his skin. She'd look really pretty with her hair flowy in the waves............ Marcille’s hair should get used for creepy compositions more… In the water she takes him under and her hair tangles and latch onto him against his skin. Her hair is long, underwater it could engulf him probably, he likes blonde hair he'd be happy with that… Not the lowkey suicidal ideation of letting the sea take him and how he’d be happy suffocating in her hair when doing a dive wow ok

I keep thinking about the Dredge AU… The video game yes yes. It’d be a mess but ohhh ohh the sea and its wonderful world but also its dark secrets, Marcille researching the depths and finding dark powers and idk the tragedy of a man at sea who can’t forget what he’s lost and the mythical gf he made that was never meant to be and it’ll destroy them both idk idk. Bc of Marcille helping him fish from below as a selkie, Senshi like YOU ARE OVERFISHING YOU ARE DESTROYING THE ECOSYSTEMMM @ them lmao You are feeding the whole town and making big bucks but you’re fishing so much that some fish are starting to get stale without being bought, the sea is bleeding and the leviathan is hungry

Maybe one time, one of them gets upset at the other and holds the seal fur hostage, its sooo mean but it also feels very them. When I think selkie I think of the movie Song of the Sea and in that movie the father of the protags loved a selkie, the mother, but she had to leave at one point for the sea because that’s her nature etc etc, but he didn’t want her to leave so he hid her skin which like. Ruined everything and hurt her. And ohhh the parallels… Leaving him… Just food for thought.

Selkie Chil & marine researcher Marcille

The reverse of that where Chil’s the selkie, Marcille’s fascination for him has the reverse angle, almost like admiration too. Crying she’d be like "who’s this mysterious guy, why’s he look kinda ethereal(selkie fairy blablabla)?" and investigates meanwhile he doesn’t want anyone to see him transforming and such so he’s like "leave me aloneeeeeee!!" Selkie chil? secretive man who just wants to chill gets grabbed by the most enthusiastic fairytale-obsessed girl out there. She WILL almost drown trying to say hi. C’mon mister mythical let’s have a storybook romance <3 Jumping in da water and he has to rescue her and immediately gains 100 grey hairs. She gets her storybook ‘saved by the merman’ moment but at what cost. "WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGG" screaming, she gets scolded very much but it all goes in one ear out the other tbh. Selkie Chilchuck is even better with his secretiveness... How do you get around the fact you’re a seal? Iunno I’ve never been a seal Obsessed with the implications of his family in this. Except if his wife and daughters were humans and so his work travels are instead selkie shenanigans going out at sea for months on ends, I imagine they’d be selkies too… Did they get separated? Die? Is Chilchuck’s cowl in this one Flertom’s fur? :(   Once more mentioning sea shanties Chilchuck btw, Roll the Old Chariot comes to mind… Ooough Song of the Sea from the movie that he sung to his daughters <33 I’m fine

With the researcher angle actually being pushed there are interesting plots and scenes you could think of obvi, but uh we kind of went off on the fisherman Chil Marcille selkie AU instead haha. It’d be cute if she ends up teaching him how to live on land in the end. Dresses him up like a funky lil guy. I went with tallman Chil when drawing it and selkie Marcille’s more elf-like, and for selkie Chil I’d imagine it’s the reverse where she’s tallman-like and he still looks like a halfling… Sea-related AUs are my weak spot <33

No matter how you turn it, Marcille is the instigator lol. Selkie Marcille: this little man… I want to know more about this human! Selkie Chilchuck = tries to avoid everything but this Marcille keeps chasing him! It’s her job to, Chilchuck minds his business!! He sees a sliver of something weird out at night? Not his job nope keep your nose out of that it’ll only bring you trouble. It’d have to really itch him at him for him to crack I think… Honestly he’d make a great lovecraftian horror protagonist lol. We love a girl with no chill and her nose in everyone’s business

Shout to to @dayundying, @cabinette, @soappox and @lucky-fydraws!! These people were there for the brainstorming and the writing of the scripture…

[streaminn]

Wait

Addition to the blanket au

What if

The nightshades are aware that Wednesday is dating someone? The bruises that line her throat is obvious and it wasn't like Wednesday was trying to hide it.

Even when asked, Wednesday didn't blink. "yes, I do have a paramour."

It makes them think at times, what kind of person is Wednesday Addams dating?

A serial killer? One offers and the others ooo's and aaa's in agreement before hoping that wasn't the case

A mobster! Another says and yoko thinks of someone with tattoos immediately. It could be her thing

Arranged marriage? Someone conspiring whispers. It got shot down real quick because wednesday didn't have a ring and they're damn sure Wednesday would go all black widow on them

Anyways, there were rumors and gossip between the group of who Wednesday's paramour was but the moment they met her elusive blanket monster of a roommate, their thoughts got occupied

But a few weeks have passed and the shock of a growling blanket isn't so startling, the group talked about what Enid did for a living

As they tossed ideas around, they can't help but realize that wait a sec

.. These are the same assumptions they've made for wednesday secret lover

Are they perhaps one in the same!?? I mean, it'd make sense. With how easily Wednesday slips into covered arms and didn't seem so bothered at the bigger woman's touch.

They're dating!!!

But still, it didn't stop them from wondering just what did Enid do

They never did get an answer, until a black supercar waited outside of their campus gate. There were a few other students waiting sround, some even taking pictures but it isn't until Wednesday (and in turn the nightshades) was sighted does a door open and a blond with squared sunglasses step out.

Oh god, who was she? A model?

Their eyes draw to the scars on her cheek and that thought went elsewhere. Maybe a bodyguard? They know that Wednesday was rich but rich enough to need a bodyguard?

Or maybe, they hoped with anticipating eyesm, this was Enid?

Like she's sure that blond hair was similar to the mop hidden under layers of cloth. It was hard to know much about Enid but they know that she's a light tanned lady with blue eyes and blond hair.

"Wednesday!" she calls out and the lowkey broke college students reel over what she wore. Dressed to the tens in shades of black and grey, the suited woman walked around the car meet them halfway.

This..

The nightshades look at each other in panic. This wasn't Enid! Sure they were both blond but maybe Wednesday has a type.

"what're you doing here?" Wednesday asks and the nightshades were given a front row view to the way her jaw tenses and a tinge of color form on her ears.

Yeah nope, that's the lover alright.

Yoko sends her prayers to Enid. With how overprotective the wereblanket was, she's sure that there were some feelings involved. She prays that her girlie (they haven't talked at all) handles this well

A cheeky grin was Wednesday's answer as the blond twirled the car keys in her finger. "well yeah but lunch with Mr dad ended early so I thought I could pick you up!" those brows furrowed before the smile turned into something a bit more softer "unless you'd like to walk home?"

"No, I dont-" Wednesday mutters, her head ducking and is that blush growing!? "You didn't have to do this, I know that you must be tired."

Blond bodyguard(?) laughs and with the keys of a way too fancy car inbetween her fingers, she tilted Wednesday's head up.

"chin up, 'day. You know I could never be tired of you." it takes Wednesday nodding before blondie stands back. the college students immediately straighten their back as a stare was leveled onto them. "I also wanted to meet your friends! I haven't been able to get a clear look at them after all."

Bianca blinked, ignoring the way Wednesday grumbles a 'not my friends' to ask a question that popped into their heads. "excuse me? I don't think we met."

"... Did we not?" the blond wonders and she looks at wednesday before scratching her head and looking back at them. "you're swordfish lady right?"

Bianca's brows twitch. "swordfish lady?"

A smile grows as she snaps her fingers in remembrance. "yeah! Because you fence with Wednesday and you're a siren so I thought itd fit."

"you have such... A way with names," swordfish lady grits out as yoko barges in with a hand raised.

"what about me!?"

Blondie rubs her finger on her chin before she points with an aha! "yolks!"

Yoko blinks. ".. Like the egg?"

Blondie nods, her smile wide and clearly enthusiastic. Wednesday is standing right beside her, giving her usual side eye but staring with an affection she usually only held for Enid.

Rip enid, imagine losing your crush to someone who lowkey looks like you.

"Enid, we're wasting daylight," Wednesday calls out and Enid startles back.

The now named Enid panics, flustering an oh shoot! As she removed her sunglasses to reveal those familiar blue eyes before passing it over to Wednesday.

"it was nice talking to you guys!" Enid calls out and before the nightshades know it, the duo were gone. Wednesday having been ushered onto her seat with Enid closing it behind before hopping in and zooming away.

"did Wednesday just say Enid?" Eugene asks.

Ajax blinks. "did Enid mention having lunch with Wednesday's dad?"

Xavier sighs, a hand on his face. There went his chances. "maybe we should revisit the arranged marriage idea..."

[ofstoriesandstardust]

maroon pt. ii (j.h.s.)

a/n: welcome back to kylie’s pure self-indulgence. you really thought i’d write a part two without writing in some angst? anyways there’s a playlist and a pinterest board for these two (because of course there is expect nothing less from me) anyways do you want a part 3 i’d write one

summary: The aftermath of the night you spent with Jake. 

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | maroon pt. i

warnings: angst, swearing, implied/referenced sex, misunderstanding, family issues, divorced parents, age gap

word count: 3,943

“and i wake with your memory over me/that’s a real fuckin’ legacy to leave”

The first thing you realize when you wake up is that you’re alone. 

Which shouldn’t be as alarming as it is until you realize that it’s not your bed you’re in. 

And it’s not your shirt that you’re wearing. 

You groan, sitting up in the bed as you look around the room, recognizing the familiar soreness over your body. 

The Navy shirt you’re wearing isn’t like the old ones you’ve stolen from your Dad, frayed and filled with holes, the ones that smell like cheap detergent you got from the grocery store in your college town.

No, this shirt is soft and clean and smells faintly like bourbon and leather. 

It smells like Jake. 

You take a shuddering breath, realizing what you’ve done. 

You quickly rifle through the list of people you could ask to bail you out, ones that wouldn’t ask you any questions (at least not immediately) as you lean over to the nightstand where your phone is sat. 

The house is quiet, you note, as you scroll through your contacts, searching for the person you know who won’t hesitate. 

Reuben. 

You and Reuben had gone to high school together, always sort of circling each other without ever really meeting until your senior year when you had both taken a concurrent enrollment class in Political Science. 

Penny had also hired him, a few months before she did you, as extra help on the weekends. He worked a bit more now that he’d graduated from San Diego  State University and it was how the two of you had reconnected after years of not talking. 

As a “reformed frat bro”, Reuben had always told you that if you ever needed him to pull you out of situation, bad date or otherwise, he’d do it, no questions asked. It wasn’t a favor you hadn’t planned on invoking until now. 

I fucked up. 

I did something stupid and I need you to come pick me up. 

Your eyes flicker to the door as your teeth worry over your bottom lip, the grey bubble popping up almost immediately. 

Send me the address. 

I’ll be there in ten. 

You swipe over the keyboard, sending him the street name you recall seeing on your way back to Jake’s place last night before clicking the phone shut. 

Tossing it on the bed, you pull Jake’s shirt off of you, reaching for your pants on the floor. You tug them on, pulling your top on not long after. You grab your phone from the bed before grabbing the boots that had been chucked by the door when you had come in last night. 

You pull the bedroom door open, slipping down the stairs hurriedly. You can hear someone in the kitchen but you don’t stay long enough to find out what they’re doing, slipping out the front door as quietly as you can before heading up the road. 

You feel slightly silly, fleeing from Jake’s like this as you half-jog up the hill barefoot, but you’d rather end it here before Jake could tell you that you were a nice girl and he had a good time but he didn’t see this moving forward. 

It was silly, this schoolgirl crush you’d developed on Jake. 

He was a grown man and he certainly wasn’t going to settle down and end his womanizer ways for some fresh faced college girl who had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. 

Reuben’s mini-van, the car he’d inherited from his Mom at sixteen, that was barely hanging on, that he named Dolly after Dolly Parton, turns the corner and pulls to the sidewalk as Reuben spots you. You pull the front passenger door open before the car has ever really stopped, earning you a look of surprise from the brunette. 

“You good?” 

You shake your head, breathless as shame and embarrassment crawls through you. “No.” 

“Are you hurt in anyway?” 

“Aside from my pride?”

“Do we need the hospital or the police?” 

“No.” 

He nods, pulling away from the curb. It’s quiet for a few moments as he drives down the road before turning left to head to your house. 

“If my either of my Dad’s ask, you picked me up last night from the bar after I got wasted and Alice left me there.” You say, keeping your eyes locked on to the road in front of you. He chuckles. 

“You might want to hide those then if you want that story to be believable.” He says, nodding his head toward your chest. 

You glance down before pulling the sun visor down and flipping the little mirror open. It reveals a chest littered with hickeys and you briefly recall that Jake had left more hidden by your top. 

“Dammit Jake.” You hiss, flipping the sun visor back up. 

“Jake? Jake as in Jake Seresin? Jake Seresin as Bagman?” He asks, eyes going wide. When you don’t reply, Reuben lets out a low whistle. “You bagged Hangman. Can I say I’m proud?” 

You toss Reuben a withering look before twisting around in your seat, searching for the sweatshirt Reuben keeps in the car. It’s his sweatshirt from when he played lacrosse in high school, something you teased him endlessly for. He glances at you through the rearview mirror. 

“On the floor behind your chair.” 

You grasp onto the black material, tugging the sweatshirt over your head as best you can with the seatbelt on. It doesn’t smell like Jake’s shirt had, smelling distantly of ocean water and McDonald’s fries. 

You blow a stray piece of hair from your face as Reuben laughs at you. 

“I thought you didn’t do hookups or one night stands.”

“I don’t.” 

“Well, you still went for it. You’ve been pining after Seresin since you got back in town. Good for you.” 

You groan, sliding down in your seat. “It’s not good for me.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I’m not- I don’t do one night stands because I get attached. I hurt my feelings and I was already attached. I was stupid. I’m not the kind of girl he wants.” 

“Did he say that?” 

You shrug, pulling your legs up into your chest as Reuben turns down the road leading to your house. “I don’t want to talk anbout this anymore.” 

He glances at you but does’t say anything as he drives down your street. 

After your parent’s divorce the summer before freshman year of high school, your Dad’s relationship with your Uncle Mav had quickly stopped being a secret. He and Mav had bought a house together your sophomore year, a nice sized house that sat beachfront in a gated community. It was a nice place, with two floors and easy access to the beach from your back porch. It was nicer than your Mom’s place, which was the same one-story, two-bedroom, one bath house you’d grown up in. 

This house was so much easier to come home to than your Mom’s had been, despite the fact that in high school, you’d bounced between your friend houses and the park more than you did either of your parent’s homes. 

Your Mom had checked out not long after the divorce, disappearing entirely after you started college. What had been your Dad and Mav’s house had quickly just become your home, spending Christmases and breaks with the pair. 

You didn’t make a habit of going home too much though, the house consistently being empty with your Dad’s long hours and Mav’s deployments. 

Still, they’d promised that after graduation, things would be different. With the Dagger team in San Diego, with Bradley and Mav permanently in San Diego, your Dad had promised they would be better. 

Reuben gently shuts off the ignition in the car. “You opening with me tonight?” 

You nod. 

“Well, why don’t you go in and take a shower and change and then we can go to lunch. Get you some hangover food.” 

“That’s the thing, I’m not hungover. I think I had half a White Claw last night and that was it.” 

Reuben pauses as he pulls his seatbelt off. “So you hooked up with Bagman completely, stone-cold sober... and you still think it was, what? A mistake?” 

You sigh, pulling your own seatbelt off you. “I said I didn’t want to talk about this anymore.” 

He follows you out of the car, door locking shut behind you as he follows you up the pavement towards the house. You reach for the doorknob, realizing it’s unlocked as you push it open, the cool air of the AC welcoming you into the home. 

Mav spots you first, smiling as he unloads the dishwasher. “Hey hon. We were gonna see you you wanted to go to breakfast but you weren’t here and then Alice came by to see if you made it home after last night.”

You shrug, tucking your hands in the pocket on the sweatshirt. “Sorry, I got super fucked up last night and Reuben had picked me up and just took me to his place.” 

“Hey Reuben.” Your Dad says, coming in from the back porch, watering can in his hand. “Hey kiddo.” 

“The line dancing was so boring you had to drink to forget.” Reuben says, coming around you to sit at one of the chairs at the kitchen island. You snort, rubbing your eyes. 

“Something like that. Hey, I think my shoes are still in your car.” 

Reuben shrugs, pulling his phone out from his jean pocket. “You can grab them later. Do you still want to change and go get lunch?” 

You nod. “If that’s okay with you.” You say, looking to your Dad. 

He hums. “Told you kiddo. You’re welcome to come and go as you please.” 

You shrug. “Still feel like I should ask. Give me like 20 minutes so I can shower?” 

“Take as long sa you need, I know you still have some of those chai cookies Amelia made so I’m gonna go dig through your pantry for those.” 

“Fourth shelf on the left.” Maverick says, setting a plate in the dishwasher. 

Reuben gives you a goofy smile, sliding off the chair. “Perfect.” 

You breath out a laugh, rolling your eyes as you turn to go up the stairs.

-

“Bagman’s been watching you all night.” Reuben whispers in your ear as you glance up at him from where you’re leaned over behind the bar.

“Yeah, I know.” You whisper back, not daring to spare the blond a glance. “Coyote too.”

He hums, curls bouncing as he stands up. “Hey, after we’re off, you wanna go get In’N’Out and then watch the High School Musical movies?” 

You snort, sliding the beer you’re pouring across the bar. “Out of a frat for five months and suddenly you’re all for nights in?” 

He shrugs, leaning across the bar as he crosses his arms. “For a Saturday night, it’s pretty slow.” 

“Reuben.” You say, giving him a look. “I know what you’re after here and I’m not gonna give it to you.” 

He sighs. “Fine, no High School Musical or In’N’Out. Be that way.” 

“Why’re you watching High School Musical?” Amelia asks, a confused look on her face as you both turn. 

You shake your head. “Nothing.” 

“Well, Mom said to tell you’re both free to go.” 

You glance at your watch. “It’s only 7:30?” 

She gives a half-shrug. “Yeah, Mom said she’s got it from here tonight. I’m just waiting for Ruby to come pick me up.” 

Reuben nods, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “Well, have a fun night little Benjamin.” Reuben turns to you as you both move to the back to clock out. “I’m still serious about the In’N’Out and High School Musical, though. I won’t ask you about him, I swear.” 

-

You’re two glasses of Peach Bellini from Aldi, a burger and animal-style fries, and two and a half High School Musical movies into the night when your front door opens. You assume it’s your Dads as neither you or Reuben move. 

“I wish someone loved me like Troy Bolton loved Gabriella.” You say, your chin tucked into the blanket you’re curled up under. 

Reuben snorts. “C’mon, he sets the standard. Pizza and chocolate strawberries? Who could ask for more.” 

“Chocolate strawberries and pizza and you consider that romance? The bar is in hell.” Comes Jake’s voice from behind you.

You shift, seeing Jake standing in your living room. He’s still dressed in his work khakis and you force yourself to look away before you get too caught up in admiring how good he looks, pulling yourself off the couch as Reuben pauses the movie. 

“What’re you doing here, Bagman? It’s like 1 am.” 

He bristles as you round the couch, following after you. “We need to talk.” 

“I should go.” Reuben says, standing up from the couch. “Um, bye.” The sound of the front door opening and closing follows Rueben not too long after as Jake places his hands on his hips. 

“Let’s talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” 

“Why’d you leave this morning?” 

You turn again, heading into the kitchen and towards the fridge. “Isn’t that what you do after a one-night stand?” 

“No. Not us. Not after- You didn’t tell me your dad was Admiral Kazansky!” 

You let out a bitter chuckle, shaking your head as you grab a beer from the fridge. “Not exactly a secret. Thought that was the whole point of you going after me.” 

“What?” 

You pop the beer open, finally turning to face him. “Thought that was the point. You sleep with me, you’ve just found one more way to piss off good ol’ Pops. Get under his skin.” 

“That’s really what you think of me?” 

“And when have you ever shown me any different Jake?” 

He pauses. “Last night, that was real. And I- I really like you.” His voice drops to a whisper as he takes a few tentative steps towards you. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you loved the chase Seresin. And now that you got what you wanted, the satisfaction that you were the one to fuck Admiral Kazinsky’s only daughter and child, you win.” 

“That’s not- That’s not what any of this was about!” He exclaims, looking around in bewilderment. 

“Then why’d you leave me alone this morning?” 

“I was-” He bows his head. “It’s stupid.” 

“No, tell me. I want to know!”

“I was making you breakfast! Okay? I was making you breakfast because I remember Rooster told me one time you liked to make yourself breakfast sandwiches. I was making you breakfast. And I was hoping that while we ate breakfast, we could sit down and talk about this like adults because I really like you.” 

You let out a laugh. “Oh, I don’t believe that for a second. Making me breakfast? You do that for all your hookups or just the ones you want to keep in your back pocket?” 

“What the hell are you even talking about? I was going to ask you out on a date! I- I wasn’t even sure if you’d go for me, a guy who’s a decade older than you, that’s why I never said anything before!” 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from Mr. Carved By the Greek Gods.” 

“Why are you searching for the worst meaning in everything I say?” He asks, throwing his hands up in frustration

“Because!” You snap. 

“Because why?”

“You don’t get it, Jake. You don’t know what it’s like to know you were only born because of what your Dad couldn’t have. You have no idea what it’s like to grow up with your parents in a loveless marriage. You have no idea what it’s like to be the kid who everyone tells their kids to be friends with so you’ll tell your Dad their family is cool and maybe he’ll give their Dad a promotion. You have no idea what’s it’s like to not be invited around because people are afraid you’ll snitch. You have no idea what it’s like to be cozied up to just for a promotion. You have no idea what it’s like, to be a kid of one of the greats, with the expectation to become a great yourself. You have no idea what it’s like to have a legacy you have to follow knowing you don’t want a single piece of it. You have no idea what it’s like to know that the kid that isn’t even theirs will always be better than you because he took the path you didn’t want. 

Happy endings don’t happen for me, Jake Seresin. So why should I pretend this is any different?”

Jake stares at you as tears roll down your cheeks in fat lumps. The front door opens again, Maverick’s voice echoing through the house. “Kiddo? You home?” 

He comes into view as you lift up the collar of the sweatshirt you’re wearing to wipe away some of the tears. 

“Is everything okay?” You hear your Dad ask. 

“I was just leaving.” Jake says cautiously and you hear him walk towards the front door as you avoid eye contact with Maverick. 

“What’s going between you and Lieutenant Sereisn?” Your Dad asks sharply and you sigh, dropping your head. 

“Nothing. I’m going to bed.” You say, sucking in a deep breathe as you walk past them. 

-

“So... I was thinking.” You say, pulling the carton of orange chicken from the plastic bag.

“Dangerous thing in this family.” Maverick jokes, pulling out the chopsticks. 

“What if I quit my job at the Hard Deck?” You ask, keeping your eyes locked on the meat in front of you. 

Your Dad hums as he opens the teriyaki broccoli. “I distinctly remember us agreeing that you would have a job if you were going to live here after graduation. Things don’t just get handed to you, you know this.” 

“I remember the job being a suggestion, not a requirement.” 

“What’s wrong with the Hard Deck?” Maverick asks, pulling out his chair out from the table. “Someone giving you trouble or something?” 

You shake your head. “No, nothing like that. I just want to try out something else, you know? Like volunteering with the Midway, like we talked about over winter break?” 

“You could do both, but you’re not quitting your job. Not if you expect to live here, nope, no way.” 

“Ice...” Maverick whispers under his breath. “Honey, he doesn’t mean that-”

“No Mav, I’m serious. My parents didn’t hand me everything and I’m certainly not going to hand her anything either.” 

“No, no one gets handed anything unless your name is Bradley Bradshaw in which case he gets handed everything because Mav and Ice feel guilty over his Dad’s death.” 

Bradley’s head flies up from where he’s picking through his stir fry at your words.

“That’s not fair.” Your Dad says sternly, pointing his chops ticks at you. “We paid for UVA because the agreement was that he’d join the Navy after he went.” 

“Well maybe I don’t want to be in the Navy!” You snap. 

“And that’s fine-” Maverick tries, voice soft. 

“Is it? Because I’m starting to get the idea that it’s not.” 

“We should leave.” Comes bob’s voice, a quiet whisper. “This is family stuff, we shouldn’t-” You look over to see some of the pilots standing near the front door where the dining room is. 

You huff, chair screeching against the floor as you stand up. “Don’t bother. They’ve got their happy Navy family. Doesn’t include eme.” You push past Hangman and Coyote on your way out, front door slamming behind you. 

As you walk down the sidewalk, you can hear Jake’s voice call out for you. 

“C’mon, where are you going? You don’t even have any shoes on.” 

“Go away Jake.” You call back, wincing at the heat of the pavement, baking in the San Diego sun all day. 

“Come here, will you at least put shoes on for me?” You turn, seeing him holding your flip flops that you usually chuck precariously by the front door that Maverick always trips over when he comes home. “Please.” 

You sigh, holding out your hands as he tosses you the shoes. You slip them on as a silence settles between the two of you.

“This wasn’t always just about me.” 

You let you a bitter chuckle, letting your arms fall to your side. “Nope, you caught me. I actually have daddy issues which is insane considering all he’s ever done is love me.”

“Just because they love doesn’t make them any less absent.” He says, taking a cautious step towards you. “You know, the house always feels too quiet when they’re gone. You grow up knowing you got to be just like them, knowing they’ll see anything less as a failure, even if they’d never say that out loud. I know you, a little too well. Because you were wrong that night. I know you. I know what it’s like. You’re at least better than me and put your foot down and told them that wasn’t what you wanted.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that. I’m 22, I have no idea what I want to do with my life, and here I am picking fights with my brother figure just because I’m mad for something he can’t control.” 

He finally closes the distance. He reaches out for your cheek, guiding you gaze up to meet his sea-glass eyes. “I should’ve done this right from the beginning. Ask you out on a date, bring you flowers, take you somewhere nice. I never should’ve let you think this was just a one-night stand. I just always liked how easy it was with you. How fun it was. I reveled in the fact that you’d blush when I would flirt with you. Your cheeks would go scarlet, almost maroon, you know? But you were just-” He shakes his head. “I just liked you.” 

“Jake...” You whisper, pulling back from him. “We’re over a decade apart from each other.” 

“I know that.” 

“My Dad would kill you.” 

“I know that too. But hell, darling, I’m willing to try for you.” 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this right now.” You say, shaking your head. 

He sighs. “You’re right. We’re not doing this right now. We can discuss this later. Right now, you need a friend. And because in all your storming out glory, I’m assuming you forgot your phone, so... can I call anyone for you? Reuben? Bob, maybe?” 

You shake your head again, reaching out for his hand. 

“You, Jake. I just want you.”

-

He watches the door shut behind Jake as he turns back to the group of pilots. “Anyone want to cough up as to why my daughter’s acting so weird?” 

Natasha throws up her hand in defense. “I know nothing.” 

Mickey shrugs, looking at Bob. “She hasn’t said anything to us.” 

He eyes Javy, who’s suddenly staring the cream white ceiling like it’s the most interesting ceiling he’s seen in his life. He steps a few feet closer to him, catching the man’s attention. 

“Lieutenant Machado?” He shrugs, sticking in his hands in his pockets as he continues to walk forward. “You want to cough up to what’s going on between Lieutenant Seresin and my daughter?” 

“Not particularly. Bro codes and all that.” 

He fixes Javy with a look. “Hm, okay. And what about the code of doing what your commanding officer asks?” 

Javy withers under his look. “They um- they hooked up. Slept together.” 

It’s dead silent in the room for a minute before he speaks again. 

“I’m going to kill him.”

[collectivecloseness]

11 with whatever stranger things character works best ig. 11 nearly *just* makes it but is always left out, ones that don’t quite make it onto some lists are always interesting, like 6 or 51, or the last 100 or something lol

Babes... the fact 11 is literally Nobody by Mitski... the lonely left out one 😭 Anyway this is poor Stevie fr 😭😭

(Cw: this fic is about Steve’s mental health after dealing with all the upside down trauma the past few years)

Steve Harrington x reader

Steve doesn’t sigh, he doesn’t groan, he just doesn’t make a sound when he finally wakes up. He’d fallen back asleep a couple of times after opening his eyes, just hoping to shorten the day and stay somewhere peaceful a moment longer, but his body couldn’t take anymore sleep. He was awake now.

There was no work today. No alarm to make sure he could be autonomous and run on autopilot to brush his teeth and rush to the car in yesterday’s work clothes, and no radio call from one of the kids in danger giving him the boost of adrenaline to get up either.

But tapping his fingers on his plain grey quilt, Steve couldn’t handle the realisation he’d be alone with his thoughts right now if he didn’t get up.

Pushing himself with a sigh, Steve winces as his feet hit the cold fooorboards, slumping over to put some black socks on first, before he finds a shirt to throw over his head. He looks down to his sweatpants, but suddenly the thought of changing out of them, and into something else made Steve’s head ache and feel faint at the same time. So he didn’t care about wearing what he’d worn to bed downstairs as he dragged himself to the living room.

Steve was used to being alone in this house. His parents basically treated the place he grew up in as a holiday home, rather than a home, being there around a weekend every six weeks, if they were ever that scheduled. He never knew when they were coming back.

Steve basically owned the house now, as the sole person who actually lived there. He’d turn his parents room into a spare room, maybe have Robin as a roommate, he knew she wanted to move out away from her parents, but even mentioning it to his mom, his dad overheard him over the phone and he had yells and disappointed chidings of how selfish and inconsiderate he was assaulted down the speaker. ‘They still lived there!’ They said, although they hardly ever turned up to prove their point.

At least people visited, even if Steve couldn’t truly make the house his home yet, no decorating of his own. But being alone here, it at least made his house the designated hang out zone. It gave him good memories here. You visited a lot, and Steve was so grateful to have you as a partner. He wondered what you were up to today...

There was nothing for Steve to do here. Definitely not alone. And he definitely couldn’t risk messing something up, and his parents deciding to drop in from the other side of the country. But standing at the base of the stairs, looking around at his open, and empty home, something vile and sickening clawed at his chest, trying to scrape up his throat, split open his head from the inside. Steve went straight to the television, his chest in pain enough it made Steve flinch, turning the tv onto some random channel, any, just turning it up. A sitcom being on air, and the noise of a family all chatting together made Steve feel less alone.

Steve nearly sprinted to all the windows in the house, opening them up so he could hear noise from the outside, the things happening in the real world. He opened up the curtainless window of his kitchen, and he stood there a moment, the one further away from the tv, as he let the world go by. The wind stroked comfortingly through Steve’s brown hair, from the open panel at the top of the glass, where he was. Steve closed his eyes, letting the touch encouragingly pass. But soon there was another reason he wanted his eyes closed, because it was beginning to get harder to look outside.

He listened to cars honking hello to each other, teenagers chatting to their friends on the way to school, parents repeating road safety with their eager kids. Pushchair wheels rolling and dogs yipping and leaf blowers working. Everyone talking. In their own conversations, taking part in lives separate to the others they pass by without even noticing them, but everyone out there at least has something in common. Something Steve envied and yearned, but just could not find it in himself to seek at this moment.

The wind was cooler now. Biting him. Not meant for him. Everyone had someone else around, shielding each other from nature’s course, holding onto each other to avoid puddles, stepping away from the leaves blowing near them, or in one case, jumping on them themselves.

Steve retreated to his television. He didn’t know this family in the show, he wasn’t even watching, his eyes on the tv, but unfocused and mind not taking any of the images in. He just wanted them to keep talking.

As soon as he’d sat down, Steve realised he probably should have grabbed something from the kitchen to eat. And now he was thinking about it, his stomach churned in hunger. He knew he was hungry, even if it was the type of hunger that made you feel nauseous. But Steve had already sat down. And standing up again, just to get himself some food, just could not be prioritised enough for Steve to motivate himself to get his legs to move.

All Steve wants is somebody. Somebody near him right now. Somebody to be with him. He was a changed man after his first encounter with the upside down those few years ago. Battling creatures with his baseball bat, his ex and her new guy, and learning all about the horrible world underneath this one. Becoming the protector of others and the perpetual and never ending punching bag at the same time.

He looped it all in with the upside down, all these events, the Russians torturing him, what happened with Nancy, the possible state of his future, his relationship with his parents, almost losing the people he loves even though he always puts himself on the line first he just!!- What else can he do?!! And why isn’t him throwing himself into every danger to protect the people who actually deserve to be protected ever enough?!

Why do people still get hurt, when Steve will always let himself get hurt for them!?

Steve puts his head into his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs but he just pushes them in harder, his bitten nails barely doing damage as he scrapes them into his head whilst he’s burying his eyes. “Shut up shut up shut up.” Steve growls softly to himself, knowing he wasn’t helping anything.

He was a coward.

He acted strong, in front of the others. Proud to always be ‘the’ badass around the kids, especially Dustin. And he always headed straight on for danger if that would mean it helped the others. But he was so changed when it was just him now. He wasn’t the same person before; and he was glad, he’d been an asshole - something Steve winces into his hand at, as he remembers - but he’s not like he used to be.

He used to be able to get through his nightmares about his childhood. He used to come home and just chill. Enjoy the house to himself, and throw parties. He never felt like this until he went through all that trauma, as you’d promised him it was. He never felt so troubled, so down, so exhausted, so scared, so lonely. So just everything all at once.

He knows it’s not up to anybody to save him, he knows that no one can. Or at least, he thinks that, sometimes. Even though Steve sometimes feels like screaming, begging you to save him, even at the moments he’s least in danger, just in his own home. Even with you right there holding him. Not actually risking his life like he’s done so many times, like he’s made you cry over, watching him be so selfless, and brave, and hurt, again and again. Needing you to help save him, after it all too. But part of him feels like a coward for wanting it. The other half remembers all your loving words, all of them, not one is ever forgotten by Steve, and he’s able to regain control over those thoughts again most times he slaves over this.

Before you, there would have been no one to save Steve first, no one he was most important to, during all these life threatening events. Steve almost allowed himself to be okay with the thought no one would save him, even as he was first to throw himself in head first if it meant protecting his friends. Everyone had someone else. Someone they’d check up on first. Steve was glad he had you. Even when you promised him he wasn’t just your first choice to save, that others would pick him too. Even that helped Steve. Not just you being there, but you, you being the one to be his partner, you who just always knows how to help him.

All he wanted was to feel alright. Not great, just alright. Something he always used to take for granted. Something he can start to feel again, whenever he’s with you, or surrounded by his loved ones. ...Steve’s lips twisted up, his head tilting slightly as it came out of his hands. Why was that something so hard, for him to be able to feel alright? Why was his life like that?

But you at least told him he wasn’t a coward. You got through it with him, you let him be changed even when he wasn’t alone, you-

Steve’s head shot up as he heard the key in the door. And his heart froze like a cool zap in his chest, as he prayed inside his head to let it be you. That you somehow knew he needed you today. That you were coming for him, like you always did.

And Steve felt relief pour through his body so hard, his frozen fingers and toes flooded with such warmth, allowing him to actually feel able to move his muscles, as he reached his arms out for you from where he was sat on the couch, as you made eye contact with him from where you’d hung your coat, your own eyes filled immediately with your knowledge.

“Oh... Oh baby.”

You spoke so softly. Steve loved your voice. He kept his arms open as you rushed over, sitting by him on the couch and immediately pulling Steve into your arms with a big breath. Steve melting his face into your collarbone, as he let himself listen to your breath, your heartbeat, the creak of your trousers against his couch, and he felt whole not being alone at all anymore.

Steve is happy to listen for moments longer, his brown messy hair nestling into the crook of your neck, as he smooths his cheek over your warm skin. He can smell the body wash he uses when he showers at yours. His hands crawl up to hold you by the side of your chest softly. Steve happy to start to listen to the beat of your heart, and see if his will follow rhythm, like it does when he pays attention to it.

But you start speaking again. At least, filling his home with your voice. “Stevie darling. I’m here. You’re okay Steve.” You kiss his soft hair, stroking his head, and Steve leans into your touch. “You’re okay. I’m staying with you today.” You promise, knowing he likes when you do so, and when you plan it for the rest of his day.

Steve nods, letting you know he heard you, and he’s thankful, but a big sigh leaves his lungs, tickling hot against your collar, as he thinks, at least now while in a safety bubble of your warm hold, having wrapped your arms and legs, all of you safely around him.

Whether he’s been big or small, tough or soft, he’s still never good enough, still nobody wanted him. He was a douchey smartass, then a loser dumbass, and he wasn’t liked as either of those - never wanted, Steve thinks. Until you.

His thoughts still wandering around those paths, as he starts to let you take over for him this morning. He’s got to remind himself those thoughts he has just aren’t true, during spirals like this. You do want him. You, his best friend, his other friends, the kids, Joyce, Hopper, hell even his parents.

He is wanted.

Steve’s just got to remember it even in his lonely times. It doesn’t matter whether he’s brave and macho, or a dorky himbo, he’s still him, and he’s still loved by somebody. By multiple somebodies. And turning his head, peering his soft brown eyes up into your own, Steve constantly knows you really love him.

Steve leans his hand up, not even thinking about how his body no longer feels tired or achy anymore, just brushing your hair away behind your ears so he can see more of your perfect face, and also touch your soft hair.

“Good morning.” He speaks up, smiling crookedly and smally at you, but Steve feels relieved and wondrous, hearing his own voice in his big house.

“Good morning Steve.” You smile down at him. And God are Steve’s eyes sparkly as they look mesmerised at you. You moving to stroke Steve’s puffy brown hair, as his longer fingers still caress over your own. You smile, and Steve smiles back. No ache in his heart, his thoughts just full of all he can do with you today now his house is not so empty, or you can even leave the house together, if he chooses that he wants to. And that small other aware part of his thoughts, so happy and thankful that in this moment, that you are here with him.

Even though Steve can tell you know he was sad. That he was going through it a bit again. He’s obviously much better now he’s practically laying across your lap, his toned body fitting perfectly in your arms, and his head tucked warmly at the bottom of your chest, looking up at how you peer down at him, holding him, cradling your boyfriend safely, and Steve brings his hands to rest on your forearms, smiling as he swallows in his throat, relaxing in a position Steve loves.

Steve’s not asking you to fix him, he knows it’s not as simple as that, and he knows you don’t need any pressure. You two are working on it all, together. Both your issues, both your needs, and importantly, your wants. Steve so happy to be able to share his wants with you just as much as his needs, and have you take care of each other’s, of each other. Steve’s not asking for you to fix him, instead he’s licking his dry lips, and with a small and endearing smile, asks “Can I have my kiss now?”

His adoring smile only growing as you gleefully and slowly move in, pressing your warm lips against his own. Giving Steve the one thing he needed to start feeling properly alright again. Allowing Steve to hold your face close, as you both chuckle softly into each other’s mouths, the small sound so audible to Steve with how close you both are. As you happily, and so open heartedly, honestly, lovingly, both share a sweet kiss, for the start of his better day.

[fairycosmos]

what do you think is making you feel so old at 23?

i honestly don't know i think it's just like. every year gets faster and everyone seems younger than me (but somehow more put together than me) now and i can't remember what i've spent any of the years since i turned 18 doing? and it's like at the start of the pandemic i was 19 and that was the last time anything felt consistent or real. and it's also like there's this unspoken message i get from everyone around me that says i should absolutely know what i'm doing by now and that there's no excuse not to and i read this thing the other day about how there is no "3rd act" to life and about how time just kind of keeps going on without necessarily heading anywhere and i always feel like there's something vitally important that i should be doing right now which i'm not. in any given moment it's that tempered urgency of none of this is right and i'm not enough but life is happening around me anyway. and even though i live with my mother and see her every day every time i talk to her she seems older and sicker and more reliant on me and my dad's getting grey hair as well. i think i just pictured it all turning out differently. and i'm trying to treasure my life as it is anyway but it's going by so quick. it's like i'm grieving everything in advance all the time

[louloulemons-posts]

Furball

Eddie X Fem!Reader

Summary : Eddie has been being tortured by a scratching sound for days, but what is it?

Word Count : 1.5K

Warnings : Fluff, no actual romance, minor angst, minor character death (death of eddies mom and readers mom), reader referred to as Y/N, readers dad and uncle wayne shipping the kids lmao.

Really ramble-y, purely written because my cat had a kitten 🤍

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

There it was again, that scratching sound. Eddie groaned shoving his head underneath his pillow to block out the noise. “Eddie!” his uncle Wayne’s voice called, he sighed knowing he wasn’t getting back to sleep anytime soon.

“Coming.” Sitting up, he threw the pillow back to the top of his bed, grabbing a shirt from the ground and sliding it on. Walking out of his bedroom to find his uncle, he ran his hand through his curls, messy with sleep.

“Welcome to the land of the living kid,” Wayne chuckled seeing his nephews disheveled appearance. “Ha, very fun-” the boy was cut off by the familiar scratching sound, “Can you hear that?!” he exclaimed.

Wayne cocked his brow, “Son you’ve been smoking a little too much, I’d lay off if I was you.” His Eddie threw his hands dramatically in the air, the noise stopping as he did.

“Anyways, you need to get dressed.” “Why?” he asks his uncle. “We’ve been invited for late lunch at my new colleges house. City guy, tryna help the company, make it all shiny and new,” Wayne explained.

“And we’re going why?”

“Listen he’s a nice enough guy, got a kid your age or something. Do this for your old man, dress nice, we could use an extra penny.”

“Okay okay, just let me go-” the scratching continued, “You cannot tell me you can’t hear that!”

Wayne sighed and lit a cigarette, letting his nephew run around trying to find the noise, not taking any notice.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Pulling up in Wayne’s old car, Eddie let out a whistle, “When you said they were city folk I didn’t think you mean like this,” he nodded towards the flash car they parked next too.

“Listen David’s a well off guy, but he’s nice, real humble, was excited to get to know the folk around here.”

“Must be upset he’s moved to little old Hawkins.” Climbing out the car Eddie was almost throw over, a shorter person smacking into him. “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” they exclaimed.

He met their eyes and was taken aback, they were beautiful. “Jeez Y/N, you already making an impression on our guests,” a masculine voice spoke , Eddie saw a man stood by the front door.

Wayne shook the grey haired man’s hand, wearing a t shirt and slacks, he smiled, “Nice to see you Wayne, and you must be Eddie.” He held out his hand to him too, “Nice to meet you sir.”

“Oh please call me David, and this is my daughter Y/N,” he motioned to the girl stood next to him, who waved her hand awkwardly. “Well come on in, foods almost done.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Eddie was quite surprised by their home, yeah it was nicer than his and Wayne’s, but it was so normal. So homely. He wandered around the living room looking at pictures here and there, Wayne was chatting in the kitchen with David.

He smiled at the photos, one of David and his wife on their wedding day, christmas’, a picture of Y/N missing her front teeth, grinning widely. He came to one that looked more recent, Y/N and her mother, holding hands sat looking away at the sun, smiling.

“She’s pretty isn’t she,”the girl spoke next to him, causing him to jump slightly, “sorry.”

“It’s okay. And yeah she is, will she be joining us?”

“Oh um, she passed.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie spoke quickly.

“Don’t worry about it, it was quick, peaceful. Few days after that actually,” she motioned to the photo, and Eddie now noticed how her mom wore a scarf on her head. “My moms gone too. It’s hard, but hey you’ve got your dad, you’ll be able to get through this.”

She smiled at him, “Yeah, like you and your uncle,” to which he responded with a nod. “Hey Y/N honey, did you get any lemonade?” David shouted through to the living room. “Oh yeah I’ll come help now dad.”

Dinner was nice, David was a kind guy, seemed genuinely interested in Wayne and Eddie. Not just work stuff, but what they did as a family, Eddies band and other things.

Y/N was sweet too, but held back from asking many questions, seeming like her mind was somewhere else.

“Honey did you have any luck with Sabrina?” her father asked, to which the girl shook her head. “Nope, I did ask around when I was getting the lemonade.”

“Sabrina?” Wayne asked the pair.

“She’s our cat. She’s pregnant, well she might not be now, she wandered off a few days after we got here. I haven’t seen her since,” Y/N sighed, stabbing a piece of her pasta and popping it in her mouth.

“Cats tend to find a cosy space, that’s nice, dry and safe to have their kittens. Sabrina was always wondering though, only way you could find her was to listen for her scratching stuff,” David laughed.

Eddie dropped his fork making three sets of eyes fall on him, “You okay son?” Wayne asked.

“I think I know where she might be.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“I knew I wasn’t going crazy!” Eddie exclaimed as he ran towards the trailer, he climbed inside, followed by Y/N. “You sure it was scratching you heard?” She asked, unable to hear anything. “Yes! Just give it a minute.”

The pair sat down on his bed, when Y/N spoke quietly, “She was my moms cat you know. Took her years to talking my dad into getting one, but he fell in love with her straight away, kinda like my mom.”

He smiled at her, “We’ll find her, even if she’s not here. I’ll help you look for her, she can’t have gotten too far.”

“Thank you Eddie.”

“And hey maybe after we find her, I can show you around Hawkins, give you the grand tour.” She laughed and nodded, “I’d really like th-” her words were cut short by scratching.

“There it is!” Eddie said.

“It’s coming from outside,” she grabbed the curly haired boys hand and ran outside to the back of the trailer.

“Sabrina, where are you hiding pretty girl?” she spoke gently, crouching low. Soon enough a small furry face popped out from behind the water tank.

A brown cat with green eyes, she started chirping at Y/N instantly running up to get pets, the girl took her into her arms, hugging her close.

“This is where you’ve been hiding then, terrorising my new friend Eddie!” she scolded lightly, pressing her lips gently on the animals head.

Eddie smiled at the interaction, and even more so when Sabrina meowed at him. He held out his hand for her to sniff, she head butted it gently, allowing him to scratch her ears.

Another small chirp broke out from behind the water tank, making Sabrina break out of Y/Ns hold and run back under the trailer. “Pretty girl come back!” she called out, and soon she did, but with a tiny tabby creature in her mouth.

The girl sat down on the grass, crossing her legs and allowed Sabrina to drop the kitten down. “Well you have been busy haven’t you mama?” she asked the older cat, gently stroking the small baby.

The brown cat ran away again coming back with a baby that was almost identical to her, she placed it with her other baby and went away again.

For a final time she returned with a small ginger cat in her mouth. Laying in Y/Ns lap with the kittens, allowing them to nuzzle into her, “Well done sweet girl, look at these babies, should we take them home and show Dad?” she asked, fussing her head.

Eddie smiled and sat down next to them, “This is what you’ve been scratching about?” he questioned, stroking the tabby baby gently, which Sabrina happily accepted. “Well how can I be mad at that?”

“Lucky you Sabrina, you haven’t lost me my nice new friend.”

“I think I might be hooked actually,” he grinned at the girl. “Oh yeah? Not surprised kittens will do that.” He hummed,

“Hey do you have a box we could put them in? Just to move them?” she asked

“Sure, I’ll go see,” he pushed from the ground, and jogged round to the front door of the trailer. “I hope we can keep this friend pretty girl, he seems sweet, don’t you think?” to which the cat only replied with a chirp and a nudge of her head for more pets.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Well Mama and her babies are all settled,” Y/N smiled at Eddie, “Thank you for the help, and hey if you hear any more scratching, you know who it is.”

The curly haired boy laughed, and nodded, “I do. Hey about that tour, I know you’ll have your hands full with these furballs for a while so, maybe I could come and help?”

“I’d really like that Eddie. And if that’s the case maybe you should name one of kittens.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

“Well how about Ozzy?”

“Like Osbourne?” she laughed.

“Exactly, little metal heads in the making!” He smiled at the kittens suckling from Sabrina who was snoozing.

The pair sat quietly enjoying the company one another, unaware of the two sets of eyes on them. “20 bucks says they’re dating in a month,” Wayne nudged David who nodded in agreement.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you for reading, please feel free to leave any requests 🤍

[that1emowitch]

Guilt

A/N: This was the result of a horribly vivid series of nightmares and daydreams I had. Kinda raw in some areas. T/W: Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence Set after UTRH, in an AU where Bruce isn't a shitty Dad and Dick didn't know about Jason being Hood.

.

Word Count: 11152

The dull ache behind Dick's eyes felt like a constant thrumming in his skull. It wasn't a headache, not exactly, but a dull, throbbing reminder of the fragmented sleep he'd wrestled with all night. Images flickered at the edges of his mind, fleeting and nonsensical, the aftertaste of a nightmare he couldn't quite grasp.

He was both grateful and terrified that he couldn’t remember the nightmare.

He was better off in this void, just floating, disconnected, not real…

RING!!!!

The shrill blare of the alarm ripped him fully awake, a jolt that sent a tremor through his already strained muscles. He swatted at it blindly, silencing the insistent shriek. The harsh light of dawn filtered through the blinds, painting sickly yellow stripes across the rumpled sheets.

He stared at the ceiling, the white plaster a stark contrast to the leaden weight in his chest. His mind, usually a whirlwind of thoughts and plans, was a vacant lot. No playful banter with himself, no strategising for the upcoming day. Just… nothing.

There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. He knew that. His body ached in a way that transcended physical exertion, a deep, bone-deep weariness that lingered even after the adrenaline of the night had faded. He couldn't remember what had woken him, the nightmare a fleeting memory already dissolving into the fog of exhaustion.

He didn't need to remember, anyway. Nightmares were a part of the deal, these days. Unbidden companions in the lonely hours between sleep and wakefulness. With a sigh that rattled his chest, Dick rolled onto his side, pulling the covers tighter around himself. He didn't move, didn't think, didn't even breathe deeply. He simply existed, a hollow shell adrift in a sea of grey.

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RING!!!!!

The dull ache behind his eyes morphed into a throbbing pressure as the alarm screeched back to life. Dick flinched, a low moan escaping his lips. The sound was a physical assault, each insistent ring echoing in the hollow space of his skull.

A weight landed on his chest, accompanied by a wet tongue being dragged across his chin. Haley, his faithful Bitewing, had apparently decided Dick's alarm clock wasn't loud enough. He forced a weak smile, scratching behind the dog's ears and kissing her face. The familiar warmth of Haley's fur offered a flicker of comfort, but it wasn't enough to dispel the leaden weight pinning him to the bed.

He knew he should get up. He had work, he had gymnastics classes to teach, patrol later… But the thought of facing the day, all those people, felt like scaling Mount Everest in flip-flops. What happened to Extraverted Darling Dickie Grayson? He wondered momentarily. 

Every fibre of his being screamed for just five more minutes, ten maybe, an eternity of oblivion beneath the covers. But he knew the world wouldn’t stop for him.

With a sigh that rattled his chest, Dick finally pushed himself upright. The world tilted slightly on its axis as the blood rushed back into his legs. He stumbled slightly, catching himself on the nightstand. His room mirrored the chaos within him. He’d never been a very clean person, but at least he tried. However, today, clothes were scattered across the floor, a half-eaten protein bar lay abandoned on the desk, and his Nightwing suit, lay carelessly crumpled on the chair like a discarded exoskeleton.

He should put that away later.

The kitchen beckoned with the promise of coffee, the lifeblood of heroes (or at least moderately functional ones). For a second a ghost of a smile played across his lips at the hypocrisy of it – he spent hours preaching to Tim to drink less coffee, and here he was.

But it vanished just as quickly. Even the mere thought of turning on the coffee maker, the measuring, the brewing, felt like an insurmountable task. His stomach rumbled in protest, a pathetic counterpoint to the exhaustion gnawing at him.

It’ll be fine, He told himself. I’ll just buy something to eat later.

He shuffled to the bathroom, the fluorescent light assaulting his already strained eyes. The face staring back from the mirror was pale, and drawn, with dark circles that seemed to have taken permanent residence under his eyes.  It was a face he barely recognised, a face that held none of the usual spark, none of the cocky charm that had once been his trademark.

He splashed water on his face, the cold offering a temporary jolt. He looked away, refusing to acknowledge the haunted look in his reflection. There was no time for introspection, not now.  He brushed his teeth with mechanical motions, the taste of toothpaste sharp and metallic on his tongue. Just get through the day, that was the plan. One step at a time. He repeated the mantra to himself, a silent plea in the face of overwhelming apathy.

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Dick finished his bathroom routine, the harsh light revealing the full extent of the damage beneath his eyes. He looked older, wearier, a far cry from the ever-youthful Dick Grayson.  Even Haley, usually a whirlwind of enthusiastic tail wags at the start of the day, sat by the door with a subdued thump of her tail. A pang of guilt stabbed at him. Haley deserved better than a shadow for a companion.

He knelt down, scratching her ears with a forced smile. "Hey girl, you feeling under the weather too?"  

Haley licked his hand once, a gesture that felt more like sympathy than her usual exuberance. The decision hit him with the sudden clarity of a gunshot. He couldn't take care of Haley right now, not the way she deserved. Alfred, with his endless patience and love for all creatures, would be a far better guardian.

"Alright, girl," he said, his voice rough. "Looks like you're going to spend some time with Alfred for a while. He'll spoil you rotten, trust me."

Haley tilted her head, a flicker of something akin to understanding passing through her intelligent brown eyes. Dick clipped on her leash, the familiar weight a grounding presence. “Don’t worry,” He whispered, trying to keep his voice light. Dogs hear emotion, not words, he reminded himself. “We’re still going for our walk!”

Dick brought Haley on their usual round through the nearby dog park. It was quite deserted today. Dick found himself thanking the heavens for that. It passed in a blur, and before he knew it Haley was leading him back to their apartment building.

As they walked out of the lift on Dick’s floor, Mrs Sanchez, their friendly neighbour, stopped him in the hallway.

"Dick Grayson! My goodness, you look like you could use a good night's sleep."

Dick's stomach lurched. He plastered on a smile, the effort a physical strain. "Ha! Just a late night, Mrs. Sanchez. Nothing a good old cup of coffee can't fix, right?" His voice sounded too high-pitched, too strained even to his own ears.

Mrs. Sanchez peered at him with a look of concern that scraped against his already frayed nerves. He needed to get out of there, fast.

"Well, don't you push yourself too hard, young man. We all need to take care of ourselves sometimes."

Dick mumbled a goodbye, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He couldn't handle her well-meaning concern, not now.  He reached his apartment door, the key feeling like a foreign object in his hand.

A single glance at his reflection in the hallway mirror was all it took. The dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises, stark against his pale skin. Panic surged through him. He couldn't let anyone see him like this.

He darted back into the apartment, his heart hammering in his chest.  Reaching for his makeup bag, something Roy and Wally had once gifted him as a joke, he applied concealer with trembling hands. The product did little to mask the exhaustion etched into his face, but at least it offered a thin veil of normalcy.

He could pretend to be your average 22-year-old, living alone and juggling two jobs. Not a… whatever he was.

He couldn't let the exhaustion show. He squared his shoulders, a mask of forced cheer replacing the despair that threatened to consume him. One step at a time, he reminded himself.  Just get through the day.

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Dick emerged into the gymnastics centre, the mask snapping into place as quickly as he shut the door behind him. A charming smile played on his lips as he greeted Mr. and Mrs. Lee, parents of one of his young students. The practised ease of his interactions with the neighbourhood was a comfort he clung to.

Inside the bustling gym, Dick was a whirlwind of encouragement. He coached flips, offered playful corrections, and high-fived successes. He was the embodiment of a patient, enthusiastic mentor – everything Tim would bluntly call "excessively cheerful, but very Dick Grayson."

But beneath the surface, his mind was a warzone. The exhaustion from the night pressed down on him like a heavy cloak, making his movements sluggish and his words stilted. He felt like a shell going through the motions, a hollow imitation of his usual vibrant self.

Then, a voice shattered the fragile illusion.

"Hey, Mr. Grayson! You know, you kinda remind me of someone," chimed in a bright-eyed seven-year-old named Ethan, mid-somersault.

Dick froze. Remind him of someone? A smile strained on his face. "Oh really? Who's that, buddy?"

"My big brother, Jason! He used to come here and watch me practice sometimes. Before you came here. He’s way cooler than you, though," Ethan declared with a mischievous grin.

The air in the room seemed to thin, the noise fading into a background hum. In Ethan's place, Dick saw a horrifying image – a lifeless Jason, his once-vibrant eyes vacant beneath a bloody hood. The memory, sharp and sudden, ripped a gasp from his throat.

He stumbled back, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a choked sob. "Woah there, Ethan! Don't flatter me too much!" He ruffled the boy's hair, desperately trying to regain his composure. "Jason was one of a kind, that's for sure."

“Was?” Ethan’s brows furrowed. “He’s not dead, he’s just in college.”

“Yeah, that— sorry,” Dick stumbled over his words, quickly leaving Ethan’s side to correct another little girl’s somersault, desperate to distract himself.

But the vision lingered, a dark stain on the periphery of his vision. His smile felt brittle, his cheer forced. The mask he wore felt suffocating, amplifying the growing emptiness inside.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. All he could feel was a crushing weight of guilt. 

He'd failed Jason. He'd failed to protect him. And now, what about Tim? Would he fail him too? 

The question echoed in the hollow space where his joy used to reside, leaving him numb and utterly alone.

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The final whistle blew, signalling the end of the class. The excited chatter of the children faded as they filed out, leaving Dick feeling like a deflated balloon. He knelt down, forcing a smile as he helped Ethan onto his feet. "Good job today, champ! Keep practising those flips!"

Ethan grinned, oblivious to the storm brewing inside Dick. As the last child left, Dick slumped onto a padded mat, the exhaustion finally overwhelming him. He closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the day pressing down. He couldn't stay here, not now. He needed to see Tim, needed to know his only remaining little brother was alright.

He drove back to his apartment, a restless energy coursing through him. Leaving Haley behind felt wrong, but he knew Alfred would be happy to have her company. As he packed a duffel bag with essentials, a dark thought flickered across his mind. Why would Alfred be happy? Lately, Dick had barely visited, and hadn't even returned Alfred's texts.

Pushing the thought aside, he loaded Haley into the car, patting her head reassuringly. "Hey girl, we're going on a little trip. You're gonna be staying with Grandpa Alfie for a while, alright?"

Haley whined softly, sensing his distress. Dick scratched behind her ears, offering a weak smile.  "It'll be fun, trust me. Alfred has the best treats."

He drove ‘till evening, the familiar Gotham skyline rising on the horizon as dusk approached. Dick felt a tremor of apprehension run through him. He hadn't visited the Manor unannounced in years, not since his last fight with Bruce… he shut that door in his mind with a slam.

Parking the car in the driveway, he took a deep breath, steeling himself. He rang the doorbell, the familiar chime echoing through the silent house. The door creaked open, revealing a smiling Alfred.

"Master Dick! What a pleasant surprise!" Alfred exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with seemingly genuine joy. Dick blinked, surprised by the warmth in Alfred's voice. Had he missed a birthday? Some family event?

"Hey, Alfred," Dick managed, forcing a smile.

"Come in, come in, Master Dick. It's good to see you. I was just about to start making dinner." Alfred bustled around, ushering Dick inside. The familiar scent of freshly chopped vegetables and baked bread filled the air, a comfort he hadn't realised he craved.

As Dick settled into a chair, Haley nudged his hand with her wet nose. "Oh dear," Alfred said, spotting Haley. "It seems you've brought a guest."

Dick sighed. "Yeah, about that… I'm going to be a bit… unavailable for the next few weeks. I was hoping you could look after Haley?" Shame burned in his throat as the words left his mouth. He couldn't bring himself to say it, not yet. He shouldn’t even be asking Alfred for help; he’d raised Dick out of kindness and obligation to Bruce, not because he genuinely wanted to. He shouldn’t be forcing this on the already overworked man.

Alfred knelt and scratched Haley behind the ears, the dog wagging her tail enthusiastically. "Of course, Master Dick. I'd be happy to. In fact, it will be nice to have some company around the house. It's been a bit… quiet lately."

Dick's heart clenched. Was that Alfred's way of asking him to return? He couldn't say anything. Not yet.  "Thanks, Alfred. I… appreciate it. Just let me know if you need anything."

"Now, now, Master Dick. You focus on whatever you need to do. You just let me know when you plan to be back."

Dick nodded, unable to meet Alfred's gaze. "Yeah, I'll let you know."

He spotted a bowl of little sweets set near the kitchen counter, likely for Tim or Steph when they passed by. He considered popping one in his mouth, if only to maintain his carefree and playful persona, but eventually decided against it. He couldn’t stomach putting something in his mouth, he felt like he’d throw up.

Instead, Dick rose from his seat, the floorboards groaning under his weight. The playful charade felt hollow on his tongue, the thought of a fake snack turning his stomach. The sweets felt almost cruel, taunting him like that.

Clearing his throat, he forced out a question, "Uh, Alfie, do you know where Tim's at?"

Alfred paused in his chopping, a knowing look settling on his face. "Master Tim is in the Batcave, Master Dick. Said he was catching up on some case files."

A wave of relief washed over Dick. Tim was safe. He was here. But the relief was tinged with a prickling unease. He hadn't spoken to Tim in weeks, hadn't even bothered to return his texts. All that, after promising himself he’d take care of his little brother this time. Guilt gnawed at him, a familiar sensation these days.

He nodded stiffly. "Thanks, Alfred."

He made his way towards the Batcave, each step a descent into the familiar yet intimidating haven.

The cave door hissed open, revealing Tim hunched over a holographic computer and newspaper clippings, brow furrowed in concentration. He looked pale, too thin for a 14-year-old, but his eyes held a familiar fiery determination.

Dick stood there for a moment, the cavernous space suddenly deafening with silence. He wanted to apologise, to explain, to offer some semblance of support. But the words wouldn't come. The weight of his own struggles seemed to constrict his throat.

Tim finally looked up, startled at his presence.  "Dick? What are you doing here?"

The question hung in the air, raw and accusatory.

"I, uh…" Dick stammered, the cavernous space amplifying the awkwardness.  "Just checking in. Making sure you're, uh, doing okay."

Tim stared at him for a beat, his expression unreadable. "Yeah, I'm fine," he finally said, a touch too quickly. He turned back to the holographic display, dismissing Dick with a finality that stung.

“So, what’re you up to?” He tried to keep up the conversation, not let this light fade.

Tim’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, the way they did when Tim was annoyed but masking it. “Just working on some case files,” He answered after a beat. He returned to his files, the awkward silence stretching between them. Dick had always been the one to fill silences, to crack jokes, to bridge the gap between them. But today, the words were locked away, a prisoner in his own mind.

Dick felt a strange sense of vertigo. He, the usually charming, charismatic Dick Grayson, was at a loss for words. It was a feeling so foreign, so unsettling, it made him want to crawl out of his own skin.

The weight of his helplessness was crushing. Here he was, the supposed older brother, and Tim was the one holding it together. It should have been the other way around.

Suddenly, an impulse seized Dick. He leaned down, ruffling Tim's hair with a gentleness that surprised even him. "I love you, Timbo," he choked out, the words thick with unspoken emotions.

Tim froze, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I… love you too, Dick," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Dick straightened, a strange emptiness settling in his gut. Was that all there was to say? Where were the heartfelt conversations, the shared anxieties, the bond they used to have?  He was lost, adrift in a sea of his own making.

"Alright, well, uh… I'll see you around," Dick stammered, the awkwardness hanging heavy in the air.  He beat a hasty retreat from the Batcave, the silence following him like a phantom.

As he emerged into the Manor he spotted the last rays of evening sun disappearing through the windows. It was getting late; He couldn’t drive back to Bludhaven and make it to patrol tonight. He sighed. Guess he’d stay at the Manor tonight.

Then another thought hit him. Bruce. 

Bruce was right here, in this house. Dick couldn’t handle another argument with his foster father tonight, he’d finally lose it.

He wouldn't see Bruce. No, not tonight. He wasn't ready for that conversation, not until he understood the storm raging within himself. Tonight, he just needed a place to crash, a roof over his head.

With a sigh, he headed to his old room at the Manor. He passed by the kitchen, just to tell Alfred he wasn’t very hungry, that he’d eaten on the drive to Gotham. Then he retreated to his bed, setting an alarm to wake up right before patrol.

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The trapeze stretched endlessly above a churning abyss. Below, the wind howled, whipping Dick’s hair into his eyes. A sickening fear twisted in his gut, the spotlight blindingly bright. He noticed the lack of a safety net below – no one in their right mind would try this trapeze. But that's where his parents were, clinging desperately, their faces etched with terror as the rope slowly snapped.

"My Robin!" His mother's voice, strained and raw, barely reached his ears.

But this wasn’t how it actually happened, was it?

He lunged, arms outstretched, the distance impossibly vast. His fingers grazed his father's, just for a fleeting moment, before their grip loosened. Their cries, a horrifying symphony of despair, were lost in the howling wind as they plummeted.

Dick screamed, a primal, agonising yell that tore from his throat. He launched himself forward, defying gravity, but it was too late. The net gave way with a sickening snap, offering no solace, no reprieve. He watched, his world turning into a swirling vortex of red and bone, as their lifeless forms crumpled on the unforgiving ground.

Then, strong arms enveloped him, pulling him back from the precipice. A choked sob escaped him as he buried his face in a familiar chest. Warmth and an iron grip anchored him, a sliver of safety in the face of utter devastation.

"It's okay, Dick. It's okay." Bruce's voice, rough with emotion, offered a fleeting balm. He was nine again, small and angry and vulnerable, clinging to Bruce, who promised to keep him safe. But the moment of comfort was shattered.

A manic laugh echoed through the darkness, chilling Dick to the bone. There, standing between him and Bruce, was the Joker, his painted grin grotesque under the harsh light.

"Ah, Boy Blunder, always the disappointment!" he cackled, his voice dripping with venom. "Couldn’t even save the last one, could you? What was his name? Oh, yes, poor little Jason."

A wave of murderous fury washed over Dick. Visions of Jason, lifeless and pale in his funeral casket, flooded his mind. He lunged, fueled by a primal rage. The fight was a blur of fists and fury, his own screams mingling with the Joker's hysterical laughter.

He didn't know how long it lasted, the adrenaline a white-hot fire consuming him. But eventually, the Joker lay still, a crimson stain blooming on his chest, the sick smile plastered permanently on his cold, dead face.

Dick stared at his hands, stained red, realising with a sickening dread what he had done. He didn’t completely regret it. 

His breath came in ragged gasps as he turned to face Bruce.

But Bruce wasn't there. In his place stood Batman, his features obscured by the cowl. The disappointment in his eyes, a bottomless pit of sorrow, was a blow worse than any physical harm.

"You failed, Dick," Batman's voice, a low growl, echoed in the vast emptiness. "Just like you always do."

The words hung heavy in the air, a chilling indictment. Then, Batman turned and walked away, his silhouette fading into the darkness.

Dick was alone, the deafening silence broken only by his ragged gasps for breath. He was lost, adrift in a sea of despair, the echo of Bruce's voice a constant reminder of his failures. He had failed his parents, failed Jason, and now, he had failed Bruce.  There was nothing left, no hope, no redemption.

He woke with a gasp, heart hammering against his ribs, the nightmare clinging to him like a shroud. The sheets were damp with sweat, the cold air of the guest room a stark contrast to the inferno within him.

As the nightmare receded, a chilling realisation dawned on him. He didn't know what scared him more, the brutal deaths of his loved ones, or becoming the faluire that Bruce feared him to be.

But the terror wasn't over. A cold, clammy hand brushed his cheek. He bolted upright, his scream echoing in the empty room. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating a horrifying tableau.

Jason's lifeless body lay beside him, his face contorted in a silent scream. Tim, his usually perky little brother, was sprawled on the other side, a crimson stain blooming on his chest. A choked sob escaped Dick's lips as he scrambled away, his back hitting the wall. Panic clawed at his throat as he saw a weathered tombstone by the foot of the bed. The inscription sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over him: "Alfred Pennyworth. Loyal friend, devoted father and grandfather."

Dick could feel sticky, hot blood on his fingers, coating his body, drowning him. It’s like he was bleeding to death. Catalina’s honey-sweet voice echoed through the room, too distant to make out the words but loud enough to choke him.

Across the room, Barbara lay unconscious, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. Her breaths were shallow and raspy. A horrifying realisation dawned on Dick. He wasn't bleeding to death, she was. The nightmare wasn't over, it was just getting started.

“No, no, no…” Dick whimpered, covering his head with his hands and curling into a ball, willing the nightmares to go away. But they persisted, tearing him apart piece by piece, clawing and ripping until there was nothing but a hollow void left.

It was his fault.

All his fault.

In the distance he could see figures hanging by their necks, suspended from trees. Wally, Roy, Garth, Raven, Gar, Donna… Kori lay on the ground beneath them, still and frozen, devoid of her usual warmth and fire.

NO! He wanted to scream, but no words came out.

Dick clawed at his throat, gasping for air that wasn't coming. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, echoing in his screaming ears. But the screams were silent, a horrifying internal torment. The figures around him, bathed in the sickly moonlight, remained motionless, their lifeless faces a tableau of his deepest fears.

A piercing shriek ripped through the room, jarring him awake. It wasn't Barbara's ragged breaths, nor the echo of his own silent scream. It was the blaring of the guest room alarm clock, a harsh intrusion into the chilling nightmare.

He lay there, eyes squeezed shut, fighting for sanity.  The sheets were still damp, the air thick with the memory of terror. But the phantoms were gone. The room was devoid of the macabre scene that had played out moments, or was it hours, ago? He couldn't be sure.

Slowly, Dick opened his eyes, blinking against the weak light filtering through the curtains. The room looked normal, empty except for the furniture. Relief washed over him, a fleeting wave in the ocean of despair. He couldn't remember the specifics of the nightmare, just the raw emotions – fear, loss, and a bone-deep sense of failure.

He pushed himself out of bed, his muscles stiff and protesting. A quick glance at the clock confirmed it was still 10 pm. Tim and Bruce must have left for patrol by now. 

Good. 

He wasn't ready to face Bruce, not yet. He couldn’t explain that he loved Bruce, that he was sorry they fought all the time. Couldn’t explain how much he regretted everything he did wrong. Couldn't explain the nightmares, the vulnerability they exposed.

Instead, he showered, the cool water doing little to soothe the turmoil within him. He dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a stark contrast to the sleek black suit he should be wearing.

Downstairs, the house was quiet. The scent of coffee hung in the air, a tantalising lure for his exhausted mind. But he couldn't allow himself the comfort. Not today.

He slipped out a side door, the cool morning air a shock to his system. He needed the Batcave, the familiar weight of his Nightwing suit, the focus that came with flying over the city. Maybe tonight, when Gotham needed him, he could outrun the monsters that haunted his dreams.

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The thrill of the chase coursed through Dick's veins as he apprehended the third group of muggers that night. Adrenaline was a poor substitute for a good night's sleep, but at least it kept him sharp. Everything was still a blur, but it was more like he’d mentally checked out but functioning, rather than being catatonic. 

Landing gracefully on a Gotham rooftop, he scanned the area, his gaze falling on a familiar traffic light-coloured figure perched on the edge.

"Robin?" Dick called out, his voice barely a whisper above the city's constant hum.

Tim startled, his wrist-computer snapping shut with a click. "Nightwing. Didn't hear you come up."

Dick landed beside him, noting the furrow in Tim's brow. "Lost in a case already, Baby Bird? Early start, aren't we?"

Tim shrugged, his expression uncharacteristically guarded. "Just following up on something. You wouldn't know anything new about the Red Hood, would you?"

Dick's breath hitched. Red Hood? The brutal vigilante-slash-crime lord Bruce had been obsessing over just a few months ago? "Red Hood? Why do you ask?"

Tim tapped his wrist-computer, lost in thought. "He disappeared for months, then suddenly reappeared a few weeks back. But B... well, Batman isn't exactly pulling out all the stops to find him anymore. It’s like they’ve made peace or something. It's weird, right?"

A knot of unease tightened in Dick's gut. This was strange. Bruce wouldn't just abandon a case, especially one involving a dangerous vigilante. Not unless there was a reason he wasn't sharing with them. And knowing Bruce, that was likely the case.

"That is weird," Dick agreed cautiously. "Did B say anything about it?"

Tim shook his head. "Nope. Wouldn't tell me a thing. So, I figured I'd do some digging myself."

Dick understood Tim's curiosity, but a part of him worried about the direction this investigation might take. It was standard Robin protocol to disobey Batman’s orders, but the Red Hood was dangerous, and absolutely hated Robin. 

The image of Tim, bloody and dying in the Titans Tower, flickered over reality for a moment, chilling Dick to the bone.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could voice his concerns, a crackle of static interrupted him.

"Nightwing, Robin," Oracle's voice cut through their comms, sharp and urgent. "Gunfight in progress, two blocks east of your location. Possible hostage situation."

Dick exchanged a quick glance with Tim. "Looks like we have other priorities for now, little brother. Let's go."

Tim nodded, his earlier apprehension replaced by a steely focus. Together, they launched themselves into the night, the mystery of Red Hood temporarily put on hold as they raced towards the sound of gunfire.

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Sirens wailed in the distance as Nightwing and Robin descended upon the scene. A dark alleyway echoed with the frantic pop-pop of gunfire, a silhouette of three gunmen visible against the flickering glow of a streetlamp.

"Civilians?" Dick barked into his comm, eyes scanning for any signs of bystanders.

"Scattered on the east side of the alley," Oracle responded. "Looks like a family caught in the crossfire between Penguin and Black Mask’s gang members."

A plan formed in Dick's mind. "Robin, you take the east side. Evacuate the civilians, get them out of here. I'll handle the shooters."

"Got it," Tim replied, his voice tense but steady.

Using the shadows as cover, Dick and Tim flanked the alleyway. Tim, nimble and agile, slipped through a fire escape and disappeared into the darkness.  Dick, utilising his acrobatic skills, launched himself across the open space, aiming for a dumpster that offered a sliver of cover.

The moment he landed, a hail of bullets zipped past him, embedding themselves in the metal with sharp pings.  Dick cursed under his breath, whipping out his Escrima sticks and attacking the criminals. His aim was precise, taking out the gunman's peripheral weapons one by one. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Robin leading the mother and her daughters away.

Tim's voice crackled through the comms. "Family's safe. Heading back to your position."

Relief washed over Dick, momentary and fleeting. Just then, the last remaining gunman, desperate and cornered, emptied his clip in a blind rage. Dick, focused on returning fire, didn't see the glint of two stray bullets not aimed at him, that pierced into Tim's abdomen before anyone could react.

Tim's startled yelp ripped through the night, followed by a heavy thud as he crumpled to the ground.  Dick's blood ran cold. "Robin!" he screamed, his voice raw with terror. Ignoring the remaining gunman, he launched himself towards his brother.

A dark figure swooped down from the rooftops, a blur of black and grey. Batman landed with a heavy thud, his cape billowing around him. He disarmed the gunman with an effortless efficiency before turning his attention to the fallen Robin.

Dick reached Tim's side, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Tim lay near motionless, a spreading stain blooming on his red chest. Panic clawed at Dick's throat. "Baby Bird! No, no, no!" he choked out, his voice thick with despair.

He fumbled with his communicator, his hands shaking so violently he could barely press the buttons. "Oracle! Get Leslie to the Cave, now!"

"Already on it, Nightwing," came the reply, laced with urgency.  But the words seemed to fade away as Dick focused on the shallow breaths escaping Tim's lips, the crimson that stained his gloved hand.

He pressed his hand over the wound, applying pressure with trembling hands.  The world narrowed to the sight of his little brother, pale and still, the life draining out of him with each laboured breath. The fear that had haunted his nightmares was now a terrifying reality, and Dick was utterly helpless to stop it.

The world spun, a kaleidoscope of red and black blurring around Dick as he pressed his hand onto Tim's chest. A horrifying vision flickered over Tim's pale face – Jason, lifeless and cold, his blue eyes staring emptily into eternity. Dick's stomach lurched, a primal scream trapped in his throat. This couldn't be happening again. Not Tim. Not another brother lost!

His vision swam as a large hand clamped on his shoulder, firm and steady.  "Nightwing, stand back," Bruce's voice, a low growl, cut through the haze of terror.

Dick felt himself being pulled upright, a numb puppet on a string. Bruce knelt beside Tim, expertly assessing the wound, the cowl doing little to hide the worry etched on his face. Dick watched, detached, as Bruce called for the Batmobile, his own voice gone, replaced by a hollow echo.

When the Batmobile arrived, screeching to a halt in the alley, Bruce scooped Tim up, his movements swift and practised.  He looked at Dick, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions Dick couldn't decipher.

"Get to the cave," Bruce ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Dick could only nod, his body a statue carved from despair. He watched as Bruce disappeared into the Batmobile, the red taillights vanishing into the night, taking with them a piece of his soul.

Alone in the blood-soaked alley, the weight of his failure crashed down on him. He hadn't been able to protect Jason, and now, he had failed Tim too. The guilt was a crushing tsunami, threatening to drown him. He sank to his knees, the cold concrete biting into his skin, a welcome contrast to the inferno raging within him.

Slowly, the hallucination faded, but the sight of Tim, pale and motionless, was no less horrifying. The red stain on his shirt grew larger, a macabre bloom mirroring the one that had claimed Jason's life.

A choked sob escaped Dick's lips, tears blurring his vision. He couldn't stay here, couldn't face the echoing silence of the empty city. With a Herculean effort, he pushed himself to his feet, a tremor running through his limbs.

He stumbled back to his motorcycle, the vehicle suddenly feeling unfamiliar, a foreign object beneath his shaking hands. He revved the bike, the purr of the engine a distant echo in his ears.

The drive back to the Batcave was a blur. He didn't remember the streets he passed, the red and blue lights of police cars flashing by like phantoms in the night. He was on autopilot, driven by a desperate need to be with Tim, to somehow make things right.

By the time he reached the Batcave, the air hung heavy with a sterile scent and the rhythmic beeping of life support. Bruce and Alfred were there, a grim tableau of concern etched on their faces. Tim lay on the medical table, his chest rising and falling with the help of the machine, a stark contrast to the peaceful slumber he should have been in.

Dr. Leslie, her brow furrowed in concentration, worked on removing the bullets from Tim's abdomen. The exposed flesh, the glistening red, sent a wave of nausea crashing over Dick.

He stumbled back, his legs giving way beneath him. Bruce caught him before he could hit the floor, a firm hand on his shoulder. Dick could only stare at the scene before him, his mind numb, his body a hollow shell. Bruce’s face was tight, eyes filled with… disappointment?

Of course Bruce was disappointed.

Dick had failed. He had failed them all. And the worst part? He didn't know if he could even face Tim if he lived. Because how could he look at his little brother, his Baby Bird, and not see the ghost of Jason staring back at him?

Bruce's hand tightened on Dick's shoulder, his voice low and gravelly. "Get some rest, Dick."

But Dick saw only disappointment in his father figure's shadowed eyes. Disappointment in his weakness, his inability to protect. Jason's lifeless face flickered again, superimposed on Tim's pale form. He heard the words Bruce was too stoic to say: You failed. This is all your fault.

So Dick decided to say them instead.

"No," Dick rasped, his voice raw. "It's my fault. I failed him, just like I failed Jason."

The words tumbled out, laced with a self-loathing that twisted his insides. He couldn't stay here, not under this suffocating weight of his failures. Not with Bruce's silent judgment hanging in the air.

With a surge of adrenaline that surprised him, he ripped his arm free and stumbled back. "I… I need some air," he choked out, the words a desperate plea for escape. He didn't wait for a response, just bolted towards the Batcave entrance, the image of Jason's lifeless eyes burning into his retinas.

He didn't remember the ride into the city. His mind was a chaotic storm, replaying the events of the night on a loop. The alleyway, Tim's crumpled form, the sickening sight of Tim's wound. The crushing guilt, a relentless tide threatening to drown him.

He reached Babs’ old apartment on autopilot, the familiar surroundings offering no solace. He hadn’t come here in years, why now? He couldn’t stay here, he shouldn’t be here. He needed to run.

Without a second thought, he twisted the keys once more, the engine roaring to life the moment he threw himself on the bike. He sped through the city, the wind whipping at his face, a welcome sting against the numb terror that had him in its grip.

He had no destination, no plan. Just the desperate need to escape, to outrun the demons chasing him. As he weaved through deserted streets, a familiar landmark caught his eye – the old Gotham Mall, looming over him. And on the side at the top, nearly 20 stories high, a smaller gargoyle jutted out, barely visible in the night.

A jolt of recognition shot through him. It was Jason's favourite gargoyle, a hidden nook he used to visit after patrols. The memories were still crystal clear in Dick’s mind – sharing greasy Batburger take-out and laughing at each other's jokes. A bittersweet memory, tainted by the weight of his guilt.

He pulled over, the bike screeching to a halt on the deserted street below the tower. He grappled up, climbed the building with practiced ease, his movements fuelled by a morbid curiosity.

As he reached the gargoyle, a wave of vertigo hit him. His breath caught in his throat as he looked down. Heights hadn’t bothered him in years since his parents’ deaths. The bustling city stretched out below him, a tapestry of twinkling lights and inky shadows. The street seemed a dizzying distance away, a good twelve stories down.

He felt a strange sense of calmness wash over him. The city, once a symbol of hope and justice, now mirrored the chaos within him. Here, perched on the edge, he could almost see the peace of oblivion beckoning.

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Was this the only way to escape the ghosts that haunted him?

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The wind howled around him, a chilling symphony to his despair. Below, the city lights bled into a blurry mess, the distance both terrifying and strangely inviting. A voice, insidious and cold, slithered into his mind. 'They're better off without you, Dick. All you do is bring pain. Jason, Tim, your parents...even Barbara left ‘cause she saw she’s better off far away from you.'

The names echoed in the vast emptiness of his mind, each one a fresh stab of guilt. Jason's lifeless face superimposed itself onto the city lights below, a horrifying reflection of his failure. Tim, pale and broken, joined the macabre image. His parents plummeted into the abyss, their screams lost in the whistling wind. Bruce's face, etched with disappointment, loomed large.

A choked sob escaped Dick's lips. This pain, this crushing weight of failure, was unbearable. He could end it all here. Finally find some peace, some solace in the oblivion below. It wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't bring them back, but at least it would stop the pain. He wouldn't be a burden anymore.

This would be better for everyone.

A tear streaked down his face.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. This was it. This was the only way out. As he leaned forward, a hand slammed onto his shoulder, yanking him back from the edge.

He stumbled back, heart hammering against his ribs, eyes flying open to see a large figure standing behind him. The moonlight cast an eerie glow, obscuring the figure's face. But the voice, a familiar rasp that sent shivers down his spine, cut through the chaos in his mind.

"Wingding, what are you doing?!"

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Disoriented, Dick's eyes snapped open, the city lights swirling before him. A hand, rough and calloused, gripped his shoulder again. Someone was calling out to him, desperate, but it seemed so far away. He blinked the grogginess from his eyes, his breath catching in his throat.

Standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight, was Jason.

Jason, in the Red Hood gear, minus the helmet. His face, too old and grown-up, was etched with a mixture of anger and something that looked… like concern?

But there, superimposed on the living Jason, was a horrifying image of Jason's lifeless body, the grotesque grin of death frozen on his face.  Dick's mind reeled. Was this real? Was Jason a hallucination conjured by his fractured mind?

"I'm sorry," Dick choked out, his voice barely a whisper.  "I couldn't save you. I'm the reason you're dead…"

Jason swore under his breath. This wasn't good. Dick's voice was thick with despair, his eyes glazed with a terrifying emptiness.

"Dick, listen to me," Jason said, taking a tentative step closer. "It's me, Jason. You're not hallucinating."

His words seemed to be filtered through a thick fog in Dick's mind. They didn't register. He took a stumbling step back, the world tilting precariously beneath him.

Finally, this would end.

"Dick, don't do this!" Jason yelled, his voice laced with desperation. He lunged forward, grabbing for Dick's arm. But in his haste, he overshot, his own momentum causing him to stumble.

Dick flinched at Jason's movement, his gaze fixed on the horrifying apparition that mirrored Jason.  He saw Jason's hand reaching out, but didn't register the concern in the action. To him, it seemed like a desperate lunge to drag him over the edge.

He let out a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut.  "Leave me alone," he mumbled, collapsing backwards, his body hitting the rough stone of the roof behind the gargoyle with a heavy thud. “I failed you. Failed Tim. Bruce. My parents. Everyone.”

Jason landed hard beside him, the wind knocked out of him. Dick didn’t fully register bulky arms wrapping awkwardly around him, his face being pressed into leather in an imitation of safety. This was the Red Hood, for God’s sake! Dick really should run away. But why did the criminal save him?

“Look, Dickface, you were in space when I died, okay?” A voice shouted in the distance. “Fuck, don’t give up on me… Dick, hey, stay with me…”

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He was being lifted.

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Everything was a blur. City lights below him – above him? He couldn’t tell. Leather wrapped around him, someone in Kevlar holding him tight.

Sounds, distant, too bright.

Too muffled, at the same time.

The world was a swirling kaleidoscope of pain and fragmented images. One moment, Dick saw the distorted city lights, the next, a comforting hand on his shoulder. Then, darkness.

He surfaced again to find himself being lowered onto a cool, firm surface. A pair of gentle hands, large and calloused, held him steady. A familiar scent, sterile yet homey, reached his nose.  "Alfred?" he rasped, his voice dry and thick.

The reply was a murmur, barely audible. Then, a flash of Red Hood’s logo, stripped bare of the leather jacket and paired with a familiar black-haired boy – Jason?  But how…? Wasn’t he…

A new image snapped into focus. Tim. Lying still on a bed next to him, pale but undeniably breathing. Machines whirred and beeped rhythmically, a comforting counterpoint to the frantic hammering of his own heart.

Tim was alive. A wave of relief so intense it almost knocked him out again washed over him. He had failed him, failed them all, but Tim was alive.

Then, another thought wormed its way into his muddled mind. How did he get here? Where was Jason? He tried to lift his head, but a searing pain shot through his temple, forcing him back down.

"Easy, Dick," a calming voice said, a hand pressing gently on his forehead.  "You need rest."

He recognized Bruce's voice, but it sounded distant, muffled as if underwater. He wanted to ask about Jason, about how they got back, but his eyelids felt heavy, the effort of forming a single thought monumental.

The confusion deepened. Had Jason carried him? How was that possible? More importantly, how was Jason even there?

He drifted in and out of consciousness, the fragmented images blurring further. Alfred's face, a mask of concern, swam into view. Briefly, he thought he saw Jason lurking in the shadows, his helmet back on, obscuring his face.  But then, the image dissolved, replaced by Tim's pale visage, the rhythmic beeping of the machine a lullaby against the storm in his head.

Just as he was about to grasp at the question of Jason's presence, exhaustion claimed him. His eyelids fluttered shut, the darkness finally a welcome embrace.  The swirling questions, the self-loathing, everything faded into a blessed oblivion. He couldn't fight the demons in his head right now, not when the one battle truly won mattered most – Tim was alive, and maybe, just maybe, so was Jason.

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Dick could see his parents’ mangled bodies on the ground, far, far below. 

He was balanced precariously on a swinging trapeze, his hold on the wire loose. He’d be joining them soon.

Tears, free-flowing, streamed down his face as he stood, letting go of the wire. Then he was jumping, letting go of his grappling hook, letting himself fall.

He was falling, falling, falling..

The ground hurtled closer yet seemed so far away, his Robin cape billowed in the wind above him. Bloody corpses on the floor raised their hands to him, beckoning.

Join us in peace.

The last Flying Grayson, he thought with a morbid smile. Meeting the same fate.

Then a voice called out to him –  Jason? Then another one. Tim. They… were grieving him?

The ground, now bloody and shattered, came closer and closer, when Dick suddenly realised, NO.

No, he didn’t actually want to die.

He had Timmy, Bruce, Alfred, Babs, Haley, Wally, Roy, Kori, all his other friends…

No, he couldn’t die.

But it was too late.

He hit the floor with a sickening crunch, feeling every second of pain as his bones crushed, as his flesh splattered on the ground next to his parents, as his breath abruptly stopped.

He was dead.

Dead, dead, DEAD—

NO!

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Dick jolted awake, gasping for air. His heart hammered against his ribs as if trying to escape his chest. The remnants of a nightmare clung to him, a chilling memory of falling, the wind whistling past his ears, the ground rushing up to meet him. He shuddered, pulling the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders.

His surroundings swam into focus – the sterile white walls of the Batcave infirmary, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor next to him. Tim. He was still unconscious, but alive. A wave of relief washed over Dick, a bittersweet counterpoint to the lingering terror of his dream.

A low murmur reached his ears, a conversation in hushed tones. He strained to listen, his heavy eyelids threatening to close again.

"…didn't expect you back, Jason," Bruce's voice rumbled, an undercurrent of surprise evident.

"Not like you were exactly sending out welcome parties, Bats," came the sardonic reply, unmistakably Jason's. He was… alive! There was a defensive edge to his voice, but a touch of something else too, something Dick couldn't quite decipher.

"That's not the point," Bruce countered. "But… thanks. For what you did."

A scoff escaped Jason.  "Don't make me out to be some hero. I only came back for Dick."

Dick's breath hitched. Jason came back… for him? A flicker of warmth ignited in his chest, a spark of hope amidst the ashes of despair.  Despite the gravity of the situation, despite everything, a tiny part of him bloomed with joy.

“You’re always welcome here, Jaylad,” Bruce’s voice sounded again, low and vulnerable.

But the effort of staying awake was proving too much. His eyelids fluttered shut, the words "for Dick" echoing in his mind like a lullaby. He drifted back into sleep, the remnants of his nightmare replaced by a sliver of hope, a fragile belief that maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to outrun the demons that haunted him.

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Dick blinked open his eyes, the harsh morning light momentarily blinding him. His head throbbed with a dull ache, the memory of the nightmare a distant echo. He turned his head, surprised to find himself back in his room at Wayne Manor. The familiar mahogany furniture and plush bedding offered a stark contrast to the sterile white walls of the Batcave infirmary.

Sitting beside his bed, his back ramrod straight, was Alfred. The usually unflappable butler looked older, more weary than Dick had ever seen him. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his hands trembled slightly as he set a glass filled with a clear liquid on the bedside table.  "Electrolytes, Master Dick," Alfred said, his voice gruff with unspoken concern. "Dr. Leslie advised us to get some fluids in you."

Dick reached for the glass, his throat parched. "Thanks, Alfred," he rasped, his voice hoarse.  He took a tentative sip, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in his throat. He glanced across the room, his gaze landing on a figure slumped asleep in a corner armchair. It was Jason, the Red Hood helmet resting on the floor beside him, the harsh red of his gear clashing with the soft, floral-patterned fabric of the chair.

"Jason?" Dick croaked, his voice thick with confusion. "Isn't he… isn't he…"  He trailed off, the words getting caught in his throat. How could Jason be here, alive?

Alfred's lips pursed into a thin line. He looked at Jason for a moment, a flicker of something akin to pity crossing his face. "There's a lot to explain, Master Dick," he said finally. "But it's a conversation perhaps best left between you and your brother."  He straightened, his voice regaining its usual firm tone. "We'll need to get some real food into you soon. Your body needs its strength back."

With that, Alfred turned and left the room, leaving Dick alone with the sleeping Red Hood – Jason.  His mind raced. Jason was alive, that much was clear. But how? So many questions swirled in his head – a tangled mess of confusion and disbelief.

He soft sound of Alfred shutting the door was enough to jolt Jason from slumber.

"Hey, Dickwing," Jason rasped, his voice rough from disuse. As Dick focused, he noticed the glint of emerald green in Jason's eyes – they used to be blue...  But the biggest shock was how much Jason had grown. He was older, his features hardened with time and experience, the lines etched deep around his eyes telling their own story.

"How...?" Dick's voice cracked, barely a whisper. "How is this even possible?"  The news that Jason was alive should have been a joyous one, a weight lifted from his shoulders. But it was overshadowed by the crushing confusion and a tangle of unanswered questions.

Jason shifted in the chair, the leather creaking in protest. He reached for his discarded helmet, running his fingers over the red skull emblazoned on its surface. A deep sigh escaped his lips, heavy with a mixture of regret and defiance.

"There's a lot to unpack, Dick," he said finally, his gaze meeting Dick's. "Bruce knows. He figured it out a while back."

Dick stared at him, his brow furrowed.  "Knows what?"

"That I'm alive," Jason confessed, the words sharp like a knife. "And that…that I'm Red Hood."

Dick's breath hitched. Red Hood? The brutal vigilante that had been terrorising Gotham for months? The same man who’d tortured Timmy? It couldn't be… could it?  A wave of nausea washed over him, the confusion churning in his gut.

"But…but I saw you…," he choked out, the memory of the funeral, of Jason's lifeless body, a vivid nightmare.

"You did," Jason agreed, his voice low and sombre. "I came back, somehow. Not sure on the details. But Talia… she found me. Used some Lazarus Pit mumbo jumbo to truly bring me back."

He paused, his gaze flickering away from Dick. "After that, I was…lost for a while. Angry, vengeful. I blamed everyone, Bruce, the Joker… you..."  His voice hardened as he uttered the last part, a flicker of pain flashing across his green eyes. “I took it out on the kid. I… I’m so sorry about that, I don’t… I don’t expect you to forgive me, but…”

Jason cleared his throat, looking down at his hands.

"Then Bruce found me. I… I let him find me. He talked me down, pulled me out of that spiral. I went dark for a while, trying to figure my life out. But…"  Jason hesitated, his jaw clenching.  "Seeing you on that rooftop, about to…" he choked on the words, his hand tightening around the helmet.

"About to jump," Dick finished for him, a wave of understanding washing over him. It was accompanied by immense guilt, fear, dread. He was about to jump.

Jason nodded, his voice thick with emotion he tried to hide. "The thought of losing you… You weren’t just supposed to die like that, just leave, and…"  He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The raw vulnerability in his voice, so unlike the hardened Red Hood persona, sent a pang through Dick's heart.

"So you came back," Dick said, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes.  "To the Manor, to us?"

"Yeah," Jason admitted, meeting Dick's gaze head-on.  "I still have scores to settle, and this city needs someone cleaning up the streets. But seeing you like that… it scared me, okay? And I don’t say that often.”

The admission hung heavy in the air. Dick  looked at Jason, his heart overflowing with a mix of joy, confusion, and a touch of fear. There was so much to unpack, so many questions to be answered. But for now, the weight of his grief had lessened, replaced by a sliver of hope.  His brother,  against all odds, was alive.

“Please don’t do that again,” Jason whispered, startling green eyes focused on Dick’s.

“I…” Dick’s throat tightened. The hallucination of Jason’s corpse superimposed over the real Jason again, but Dick pushed it away. “I won’t. I promise.”

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Jason left after a minute, unable to take the emotionally charged conversation for too long, leaving Dick alone with his thoughts. He didn’t even get to hug his little brother.

The silence that followed Jason's departure was deafening. Dick stared at the empty chair, his mind racing with a million questions. How long had Bruce known? Why didn’t he tell Dick? And how had Jason become the brutal Red Hood?

A storm of emotions churned within him – relief at Jason's return, anger at the deception, and a gnawing fear for the path his brother had chosen. Yet, amidst the turmoil, a fragile hope flickered. Jason had come back. He had cared enough to risk everything to save him.

Lost in his thoughts, Dick hadn't noticed the soft knock at the door. It creaked open, revealing a weary Bruce Wayne. His usually stoic expression was etched with lines of worry and guilt, a stark contrast to the calm, collected persona he usually donned.

Dick flinched, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. This was his fault. The worry etched on Bruce's face, the exhaustion in his eyes, it was all a reflection of the pain he'd caused.

"Can I come in?" Bruce asked, his voice gruff but laced with a vulnerability Dick hadn't seen in years.

Dick nodded, unable to form the words to respond.

Bruce entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. He stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, to Dick's surprise, Bruce did something he hadn't done in years. He crossed the distance between them and pulled Dick into a tight embrace.

The sudden gesture caught Dick off guard. He stiffened for a moment, unsure how to react. But as Bruce held him close, Dick felt a wave of warmth wash over him, a stark contrast to the icy grip of guilt that had held him prisoner for so long.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce whispered into his hair, his voice thick with emotion.  He repeated the words over and over, a broken mantra that spoke volumes.

Understanding dawned on Dick. Bruce wasn't just apologising for keeping Jason's secret. He was apologising for everything – for the pain of their parents' death, for the weight of being Robin, for failing to protect them both. Yet at the same time Dick wasn’t sure why Bruce was apologising – he wasn’t the one who’d just tried to commit suicide.

Dick wrapped his arms around Bruce, a silent response to his apology. He didn't need words.

Dick wanted to be mad at Bruce, for keeping Jason’s return a secret. But then again, he… he wanted comfort. However undeserving he was of it.

He pulled away after a minute, looking at Bruce with tears in his eyes. “Where… how’s Tim?”

Bruce’s expression shifted, but Dick couldn’t read him – since when could he not read Bruce?!

He feared the worst, but instead Bruce replied, “He’s awake. On bedrest for two weeks.” Before Dick could comment on that, he added, “Just like you.”

Dick flinched.

Bruce sighed, his hand cupping Dick’s face. “Are you okay?”

Dick melted into his foster father’s touch, a tear slipping out of his eye. “No,” He whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Warm, steady arms wrapped around him again, pulling him into another hug. “Shh,” Bruce whispered, kissing the top of his head. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here now, okay?”

After a minute of this, Bruce asked quietly, “Are you… Do you still want to…”

Do you still want to jump? Dick heard the unsaid question that hit like a stab to his heart.

“No,” He forced out as his throat threatened to close up. “I don’t – I didn’t actually want to—”

“Then what were you thinking?” Bruce’s voice is uncharacteristically small, pained.

“I wasn’t,” A choked sob escaped Dick's lips as he clung to Bruce. The embrace felt like a lifeline, anchoring him in a sea of swirling emotions. He wanted to be angry, at Bruce for keeping Jason's return a secret, at himself for breaking down so completely.

But the anger wouldn't ignite. In its place was a numb despair, a crushing weight of guilt that threatened to consume him. "I just… I don't know how to fix this," he mumbled, his voice thick with despair.

Bruce remained silent, his hold a comforting pressure against Dick's back. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice gruff but laced with a gentleness Dick hadn't heard in years. "There's nothing to fix, Dick. You didn't break anything."

The words hung in the air, a challenge to the narrative Dick had built in his mind. He pulled away slightly, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. "But I did. I failed Tim, failed Jason…"

"No," Bruce interrupted, his voice firm yet soft. "You didn't fail, Dick. You saved them. You saved Tim from me, when I wasn’t at my best. And Jason… seeing you like that, on the edge… that was his wake-up call. It reminded him what he almost lost."

Dick stared at Bruce, his brow furrowed in confusion. Bruce was right about Tim, but Jason… how could him seeing his big brother on the edge like that be a good thing? No child should have to see that…

But he’s not a child now. He’s grown up…

"Jason went off the rails," Bruce continued, his voice low. "Consumed by anger and vengeance, controlled by the Lazarus Pit. But seeing you, realising what he could lose… it pushed him back from the edge. Maybe… maybe it can be a turning point for him."

A sliver of hope, fragile yet persistent, began to bloom in Dick's chest. Was Bruce right? Could Jason actually be on a path towards healing?

Bruce squeezed his shoulder gently. "We'll figure it out together, Dick. As a family.  But right now, you need to focus on healing yourself."

Dick met Bruce's gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. The apology, the comforting embrace, it wasn't just about Jason's secret. It was about everything – the weight of the past, the burden of their vigilante roles, the unspoken fear that had gnawed at them both.

He nodded slowly, a small, shaky smile forming on his lips. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. A way to deal with the guilt, the grief, the fear. He wouldn't be alone. He had Bruce, and Tim, and Alfred, and now… he had Jason too.

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Dick sank into the worn leather armchair, the familiar creak a comforting presence in the otherwise tense atmosphere of Wayne Manor. Weeks had passed since his breakdown, and he was slowly piecing himself back together. The manor, a place that often felt like a battleground of memories, was currently an oasis of sorts. It was strange, having everyone under one roof again, a makeshift family reunion brought on by tragedy.

Haley had settled well into her new environment at the Manor, loved it, even. Why wouldn’t she? After all, everyone here found reasons to spoil her rotten. Right now she was running across the room, chasing a toy Jason threw. She stopped just long enough to press her wet nose into Dick’s hand, waiting until Dick rubbed the back of her ear before she bounded back to Jason. Jason ruffled her fur, whispering sweet words and kissing her face.

"Who knew you were a dog whisperer, Jay?" Dick remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jason glanced up, a scowl flickering across his features before softening at the sight of Haley. "I’m not gonna be mean to a dog," he muttered, tossing the toy across the room again. Haley bounded after it, barking excitedly. “Plus, she likes me. Do you know how few people like me?”

The dynamic between him and Jason was…complicated, to say the least. Jason came and went like a phantom, his presence always shrouded in a tense silence. Dinners, once lively affairs filled with banter, were now punctuated by awkward silences and stolen glances. Jason avoided Tim completely, the air thick with unspoken resentment. Tim returned the favour, too skittish around the older boy. The Titans Tower  incident still resonated deeply, a fresh wound on both of them.

Dick, caught in the middle, felt the weight of their fractured relationship. There were moments when he saw flashes of the Jason he remembered – the sardonic wit, the fierce protectiveness, ghosts of the sweet boy he used to be.  But those moments were fleeting, overshadowed by the hardened vigilante he had become.

"Haley does favour you, Master Jason," Alfred observed, entering the room with a tray of steaming tea. He set it down on the coffee table, his gaze lingering on Jason. "Though I wouldn't recommend letting him chew on your jacket."

Jason snorted, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Noted, Alfred."

Despite the tension, there was a flicker of warmth in the interaction. Dick realised, with a pang of sadness, that these fleeting moments of normalcy felt all the more precious because they were so rare.

"Miss Barbara came by while you were resting," Alfred added, placing a small bouquet of lilies on the side table. "She asked me to tell you she misses you." He looked between his boys. “Both of you.”

Dick felt his heart skip a beat. Barbara had visited? He hadn't spoken to her since their break-up, the weight of his emotional turmoil driving a wedge between them.  The lilies, their white blossoms a symbol of purity and new beginnings, offered a sliver of hope.

"I miss her too," Dick admitted, a melancholic note in his voice. Across the room he saw Jason’s faraway, guilty look, how he absentmindedly patted Haley.

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a quiet lull. Dick and Alfred chatted about Gotham's latest crime wave, the normalcy of the conversation a balm to his troubled soul. As evening approached, the manor was cloaked in an eerie silence. Tim had retreated  to his room, while Jason vanished into the night, leaving only the faint scent of leather and gunpowder in his wake.

Dick sat alone with his thoughts, a tangle of emotions churning within him. He was alive, his family, albeit fractured, was reunited. But the road to healing, both for himself and for the relationships shattered by grief and anger, seemed long and perilous. Yet, as he looked down at the lilies, their fragile beauty a testament to resilience, a single thought bloomed in his mind – hope. He wouldn't give up on his family, or on himself. There was a chance, however slim, to rebuild what was broken, to forge a new path forward, together.

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He was…

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He was so glad he was still alive.

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It still hurt, he still had nightmares despite knowing everything was better now, but…

He wasn’t alone anymore.

His brothers were both with him, Bruce loved him again…

Everything was better.

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He was so glad he hadn’t jumped.

[importantdestinydefendor]

My Death Mark OC is done!

This is Hagihara Rina. She is a very timid and shy person.

A small profile:

Age: between 35-40

Height: 5'4 (162 cm)

Weight: 119lbs (54 kilos)

Occupation: part-time florist at "Myazakis Flowerfield"

She is the middle child of three children. Her older sister is called Nao, and her younger brother is called Yasu. Her parents are called Hagihara Toshiro (her dad) and Okabe Kaori (her mom). They have been divorced since Rina was an early teenager. Her father left with Yasu, and Rina and Nao were homeschooled since then.

She loves to nit, sew, and everything like that. Takes care of some specific flowers in the shop (for example: she grows her own daffodils). She has worked at the flower shop since she was a teenager. The owners of the shop are the elderly couple Daichi and Jun Myazaki, and they act as her adoptive grandparents. Her favourite colour is anything between pink and red and her favourite flower is the daffodil.

Uuuuuuh I think that is all I wanna say for now?? Since I actually plan to write a fanfiction for her (not in the scale as Firelight AU is turning out to be). So there is not much backstory I can give here except for the divorce part. Finally, I have a character that doesn't have a green/grey/brown/blue-palette! I am not the biggest fan of pink or red personally, but I wanted to draw a character with pink being their primary colour for sooo looong! And I actually finally have one! WOOOOO!

Also I made up her weight based off of my own height and weight ratio + taking in her current mental state (which is just a shit show) and converted it from cm to pound. I wanted to compare it to Yashikis weigth and hoo boy! His weight doesn't really match his height (he weighs around 137lbs (62 kg)) which is as much as I do in real life! And I am tiny comapred to him! (He is 5'11 (180 cm) while I'm 5'3 (162 cm)) So that took a few years of my life. But that just shows how good his character design is as you can really see his lankiness. (And I'm getting off track, this is about my OC not Yashiki. Move over, old man!)

ANYWAY! Tell me what you think in the comments! (Close ups under keep reading)

[yanderemommabean]

Last post got be thinking about that silly trope where a hitman/assassin/murderer has to suddenly take care of a kid and all the shenanigans involved with trying to be nice/preserve their innocence despite the fact that they... You know... Kill people for a living.

Anyway thoughts about OCs and suddenly having to take care of a kid?

it's been on my mind, I had to make a small post to feed the worms eating my brain.

I think Jasper would be trying to preserve any innocence he could, he loves kids, he wants the world to be good for them for as long as possible. His childhood was ruined early but that doesn't mean he wants anyone else's to be broken apart either.

Lee would have tired dad energy the entire time, but he'd still love them and be sure they're safe and eating correctly. "Do your work yet? Did you brush your teeth and shower? Alright then, come here, let me show you some neat science experiments"

Grey would be a bit awkward, as he's terrified he might accidentally hurt them, he doesn't want to turn out like the family he barely remembers. So he'll chill with them, play games, try to be a good role model, but he feels like someone else would be better qualified

Dexter would be over the moon and wouldn't be capable of leaving them alone. He's always so proud of anything they make, if its a stick drawing he says it's better than Vincent and Picasso. Major Proud Dad Energy

Ezrol would be indifferent in the beginning. Annoyed and not wanting anything to do with the brat. But slowly he lets his heart melt and starts giving into small things such as silly cartoons or weird art projects they wanted to try. He acts like he threw away the "junk" but it's very clearly kept in his room on his dresser or wall. Always checks in on them as they grow up, wanting to cry like an actual parent as time passes because "They grow up so fast"

August is the cookie cutter perfect dad who makes sure to use manners, be polite, be kind, and clean up. He'll have his more strict moments sometimes, but he's a real loving father figure who wants to be sure the kid is happy healthy and knows they're safe and loved no matter what. Also a really good cook at BBQs. Wears the "best dad" aprons all the time.

CEO would be the spoiling type, but only after you've earned it so to speak. If you do your work you'll be rewarded. Might also really love wearing the dad outfits they pick out to match. I'm talking atrociously colored and doesn't even match but it's their outfit choice for him, so to him it's a great fashion statement.

Victoria is used to handing care off to nanny's and what not, but she'd try. She's so business oriented the CEO would love to hire her. she's a more strict mother figure, but it's so the kid can get ahead in life when they can. Thinks kids are gross personally but isn't going to be a bitch if asked to house and care for one, she'll just take a while to warm up and be a good influence is all.

-Mommabean

[tagsecretsanta]

From @tracybirds

From @tracybirds to @thundergirl007

Tobogganing + John + Things don’t go according to plan

Content Warnings: Discussion of grief and missing people at Christmas.

“I thought you said you’d done this before,” grumbled Penelope as they trudged around the township. “I was led to believe tobogganing involved less wandering around the shops and more sliding down mountains at breakneck speeds and fracturing a leg for your thanks.”

“There aren’t any real mountains around here, Pen,” said John absently. “And I don’t understand why all the sleds we keep seeing are so small.”

“Toboggans.”

“Sleds.”

Penelope sniffed, burrowing her gloved hands deeper into her coat pockets in an effort to keep out the cold. “I just would have thought the ‘sled’ was already available for use if you were planning to invite me to partake in this hare-brained adventure.”

“I don’t set up hare-brained adventures, we’ve just hit a minor bump in the road.”

“You call a missing toboggan on a tobogganing excursion minor?”

“You call a simple hour sledding an adventure?” Penelope pulled a face and John laughed. “How come you’ve never gone anyway?”

“I told you,” said Penelope. “My parents didn’t believe hurtling down mountains trying to get yourself killed was a good source of entertainment. You’ll find we never went skiing either.”

For a moment it was as though the world stopped spinning, leaving him hurtling on with no solid ground beneath his feet.

“Oh,” said Penelope. “Oh, I’m sorry John, I didn’t think.”

“It’s fine,” said John. He felt a million miles away, he felt every square inch of fabric against his skin, and maybe it could be alright if he could just convince his lungs to breathe.

Instinct took over and he turned on his heel, starting to babble his excuses.

“You’re right, this was a waste of time,” he finally choked out and turned on his heel.

“No, John, it’s not, it’s–”

He didn’t hear the rest of her cry, drowned out by the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers and the blood that was pounding in his ears. His ragged breath caught in his throat and he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the pavement in front of him. He knew that if he allowed the world to distract him for even a second, the tears would fall, tears he’d cried a thousand times in his lifetime but that never seemed to run dry.

John hated that they were always there under the surface.

His comm pinged, but he ignored it, not in the mood for clumsy apologies or stammered explanations. He knew he was being over-sensitive, but then it was Christmas and his mother was dead and if there was ever a good reason to be touchy about a subject, this would be it.

Everywhere he looked were families, complete and untouched, with mothers who were alive and fathers who stayed.

And brothers who came home.

His lungs constricted as he tried to breathe through the pain, blindly collapsing onto a bench, assaulted by a new memory, formed only last week when he’d called to say he wouldn’t be going home this year. He’d already known the reaction, knew he would dismay them all with his selfishness, but he couldn’t fly to that humid, tropical island where they’d cut their mom out for good.

At least here, in the snow, he could pretend to be somewhere she loved.

John sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. It wasn’t the same as Dad, he told himself. No-one could argue that Oxford terms weren’t intense, that the vacations and half-terms weren’t loaded with assignments and readings and more besides.

Still, Alan had cried.

He pulled out his comm, wincing at the missed call from Penelope. She hadn’t tried again. Instead, he pulled up the photos he’d been sent of their new home, the sparkling blue of the ocean and the verdant green overpowering in each image. The vibrancy nearly hurt to look at in the monochrome street, all whites and greys. In every photo there was life and love, and John felt small and sad and alone.

“He isn’t back yet?”

Penelope’s voice floated out of the crowd and John froze. He half wanted to hide, half desperately wanted to reach out to his friend, but instead he didn’t move, hardly daring to breathe.

“No, Scott, I’m sure, he was heading back to you. Yes. Yes, I know. I checked the usual spots along this route.”

John furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the words. His brother ought to have been asleep on the other side of the planet. Penelope had never held any qualms about approaching him after an upset before; they’d had disagreements and missteps between them plenty of times in the past without needing a mediator.

Penelope sighed.

“I’ll head back to his flat now, then,” she said. “I’ll try calling him again when I get there.”

A few minutes later she walked past him, briefly glancing at him as she walked past the bench. He saw it the moment she realised who she’d seen and raised a hand, mouth twitching into a weak smile.

“Hey.”

“John Tracy, where were you?” she cried, hurrying to his side.

“Just here,” he said, feeling bemused. “I didn’t want to go home.”

Penelope pulled him into a crushing hug. “I’m so sorry, John, I–”

“Get off, Penny,” he muttered. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, and both of them knew it, but John couldn’t stand to hear apologies when most of his misery was his own fault.

“I wish I’d gone to island,” he confessed. “I know it’s too late, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” He checked the time. “Christmas will be over by the time I get there.”

“Oh, John,” said Penelope, hugging him once more. “You should have said something.”

“Better late than never, right,” he joked, but the words fell flat between them. He sighed. “It just feels like all Dad wants to do is forget about her. And everyone else is just going along with it.” He scuffed his shoe, listening to the crunch of snow against concrete. “I know it’s what got her killed, but she really did love this stuff. Dad might blame himself, but we’d have never gone if it wasn’t for her.”

“The things that your mother loved about this world isn’t what killed her, John,” said Penelope gently. “It was an accident.”

“It’s not like that’s any better,” snapped John. He bit his tongue, filled with immediate regret. “Sorry, I’m… sorry. I hate that island and I hate that there’s no snow and I hate that she didn’t get any say over any part of it.”

He huffed, drawing his coat tighter around him.

“And worst of all, I know she’d have loved it there. Just as much as anywhere. And my family’s all there, and sure they’ll miss me, but at least they’re together.”

Penelope didn’t say anything and the two sat in silence, shoulder to shoulder and watching the world as it hurried on by, eager to leap from preparation to holiday.

“Come,” said Penelope, dragging John to his feet. “Let’s go back. We can have hot chocolate and watch a Christmas movie together. I know it won’t be the same, but at the very least you won’t be alone.”

“I don’t feel like celebrating, Pen,” said John.

“Who’s celebrating? This isn’t a party, it’s a quiet evening in with friends.”

John huffed. “With you, that’s practically an open invitation for a party,” but he smiled all the same.

She caught his hand with hers and dragged his arm over her shoulders, so that they walked together in calming harmony.

By the time he stepped across the threshold, the warmth had begun to flicker once more in his chest, and the evening no longer felt too close around him.

Penelope flung herself onto the couch, flicking through options on the holoprojector, and shooed him into the kitchen.

“Same mug?” he called out to her.

There was no reply.

“Penelope?”

John stuck his head out and frowned. The living room was empty. He called again, this time hearing a scuffle coming from the bedroom.

He rolled his eyes, and strode across the room.

“Pen, what mug do you want?”

“Hmm?” she asked, sounding more flustered than usual. “Oh, the usual will be fine John. Can I borrow this book?”

John looked down. “My textbook on galactic evolution?”

Penelope’s eyes widened as she glanced down. “Oh, uh, I mean you always talk so fondly of the topic.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Penelope?”

“Nothing,” she said automatically, just as there was a loud crash from the bathroom. She closed her eyes, as John looked between her and the closed door, uttering only a single word: “Boys!”

John pulled the door open and stared. Virgil and Gordon were frozen in front of him, looking somewhat like deer in headlights as they collected the hair products that had fallen from the counter. Scott saluted him with a grin from where he lay in the bath tub, and Alan bounded across the room, leaping at him for a hug with a shriek.

“Merry Christmas!”

“What are you all doing here?”

He didn’t get a response as his brothers crowded around him, swapping bits of the story and tales of the long trip, and demanding to know how he’d been, and John couldn’t tell where the questions stopped and the answers started, so he just laughed and hugged them all, too overcome with joy to take it all in.

There was however, one constant that he could make out.

“You did this?” he asked Penelope, who hadn’t stopped beaming at him in nearly five minutes.

She shrugged. “I may have suggested to Scott that you weren’t as bright and perky as normal. I believe he did all the heavy lifting from there.”

“Don’t let Scott take the credit,” piped up Gordon. “Virg overheard the fourth call and told Scott that he needed to learn to read between the lines and book us all a flight.��

He pulled a face. “Course, Virgil also got us caught, so don’t give him any credit either.”

“And what about Dad? Grandma?”

“Booked into a hotel down the street,” said Virgil, smiling. “Where I imagine we’ll all be staying too.”

“I want to stay with John,” protested Alan, and John ruffled his hair with a fond smile.

“You can share my bed,” he assured him. “And the couch is a pull out if anyone else wants to stay.”

“And we can argue over that later,” said Scott with a grin. “I heard you were making hot chocolate?”

John grinned. “I’m on it.”

He swung past Penelope and pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you,,” he whispered.

She hugged him back.

“Merry Christmas, John.”

[mayorofthegalaxy]

The Cat Part II

Warnings; the reader is amab, near car accident, that’s it.

“Okay, brother I know you said you won’t tell where, but will you tell what circle of pride? I won’t guess! I promise!” Charlie exclaims, you only smile noting her new record of fifteen minutes into the road trip to ask, you hum she’ll see the signs for sixth tunnel soon anyway, so why not?

“Sure, before I answer, have any of you been past the fifth circle?” You ask giving them all a glance in your review mirror before looking at the road again. “Oh! I want to go first! Please Brother?!” Charlie begs jolting keekee from Charlie’s lap to Vaggie’s, startling the grey skin girl from her resting state to pet the unnatural animal to calm down,

“I’m sure you don’t have to ask, Char.” Dad says from the very back.

“Right, hehe. Never past the sixth, like dad says.” Charlie announces showing off her ivory fangs, “That’s my girl.” He says with a grin, “How about you son?”

“Nothing past seventh, for real estate~!” You sang “You know the Rattlesnake community don’t want to live in burrows because of all the lava? I cannot *wait* to start designing!” You beam, clenching the steering wheel almost breaking it, until you feel the back of Alastor’s fingers on your cheek.

His touch doesn’t change your mood and definitely does not keep you from chuckling to yourself while driving a little faster almost to the sixth circle tunnel, “I’ve raised a real estate businessman monster.” Dad smirks chuckling to himself, you don’t feel the mildly concern stares the others give you.

“Well! I’ve only been in one through five. But I have heard wonderful things from circles six through nine.” Alastor chirps, as he knows that the higher circles are where the native beings of pride stay as his new home with you is in the fifth.

“Twisted wonderfully I’m sure! What lies past the sixth is so dangerous Satan would need more arms than he already has!“ Dad enlightens them smirking with pride that only his ring have twisted wonderland.

“Right, and which circle are we going to again?” Angel ask pushing his head between Alastor’s and your seat, looking at you with a raise brow.

“Well my curious fellow, we’re going to spend our week in the sixth ring!” Alastor answers.

“That wouldn’t have twisted whatever right?”

You shoot one arm across Angel with your hand flat on Alastor’s chest stomping on the brakes but not turning the wheel to the side, you stop in time for the red blob to bounce on top of the hood making a louder sound then it should, then landing somewhere else instead of being ran over.

“Jesus Christ Y/n! What the hell was that for?!”Angel yells fixing his footing to be back in his seat.

“Did anyone else hear that? Did we hit somebody?”Vaggie ask, taking off her seatbelt and sifting through the windows near, her hand on Charlie’s head soothing the locks.

“I hope they’re okay!” Charlie exclaim, taking off her seat belt and pick up Niffty ignoring that she was giggling to herself. Dad slithers from the back past the drinking Husk to the front, peering out the other side of windows standing next to Angel Dust he narrows his eyes.

“So, did you see where they went?”

You roll your eyes to dismiss the jibe, your fingers reach the red head’s jaw playing along the structure his flesh cooling your fingers. Alastor tilts his head to the touch his eyes not leaving Lucifer, knowing this will drag out because of Charlie’s heart he’ll need to push this along.

“Mm, I’m sure the thing is alright, even if I don’t sense it.” You try also peering at Dad.

“Oh! Did you kill it?!” Frighten Charlie skitters out the door, her locks constantly moving for the body that should be near, your orbs narrow at her sunshine locks your fangs grinding, Dad and some follow Charlie aiding in searching.

“There’s no need for that mon cher, come I’m quite intrigue at the thing out there.” His voice soothing the crashing sounds in your mind, you sigh, stepping out. You keep in stride with the taller male you cease on the sidewalk leaning against bricks of a shop, enjoying shade you hum summoning Mr. Donut the yellow noodle on your shoulder slithering to hold your neck his face meeting your fingers.

Alastor leers into an alley, smirking as he watch those sinners run and tumble away he shrugs with a slight giggle, who ever made this ruckus must be alright. He should hurry this along to sooner reach the Cabin. “Alastor, why isn’t Y/n helping? Is he tired?” Vaggie questions the casual dress demon looking at the alley dirty concrete for fresh blood.

“Do you have siblings, my dear?” His static buzzing in tone with him, grey filling the corner of his eye.

“Uh— Technically yeah, but no I don’t count it. You?” She retorts, her fingers adjusting in grip of her spear. “No. And that’s just it my dear, we won’t understand that bond..” He hums turning to the blonde demon belle and Angel searching in the distance.

You sigh breaths stuttering from your lips turning to lean heavily on your shoulder, about to tell Charlie to cut her loses, Mr. Donut hisses cradling your ear messing with the hairs around it his body tightening around your torso your digits running down the scales of his spine.

Mr. Donut slithers past your ear and under your chin wrapping fully around your shoulders leering at the thing that caught his senses, tilting his head at the red and black creature with the face of his other master he hiss loudly not sensing transformation magic. The back of your hand is put under him leading him to be in front of your eye line his slits remain unchanging, you follow his glaring turning to face this creature animal that is just as adorable as your lover, your eyes not leaving it’s unblinking ones.

“Holy shit this thing made an imprint! And it looks like red lanky creep!” Angel Dust calls, since nobody else is looking around the car, some others around Charlie returns the stare. Charlie is the first to reach the hood gasping at the sight that the creature even have Alastor’s monocle, Lucifer joins in Angel’s laughter leaning onto Charlie Vaggie doesn’t see the humor in this and only rise her brow shaking her head at thoughts coming in her mind.

Alastor appears beside Angel Dust humming at the damage he’ll fix the damage after you calm down and have a laugh, you appear in front of him facing every one holding his red look alike that’s a cat? Perhaps hybrid, by the scruff of its neck leering at it eye level to your slit irises, Alastor tilts his head his ears following suit.

“Holy shit! That's adorable!”

“Nope.”

“Holy Smokes, that’s an ugly cat.”

“No way that’s a cat, what the fuck is it?”

“What a big smile, it’s even foaming at the mouth.”

“A small sir to be friends!”

“We’ve found it, In the car we’re leaving.” You sigh out handing the unsettling creature to Charlie her hands around it gingerly they settle well in her arms, but it does stare at dad even as they all go inside the car hopefully for the last time today.

“Aww, I’ll name you Caster.” Charlie coos, her fingers playing with its paws, Husk being in the car the whole time raise his brow to the second smaller Alastor at Angel when he returns to his seat in exchange the spider shrugs shaking his head.

You nod at the name enjoying it you smile as you open the door for Alastor noticing the lack of face on your car. With him and you finally inside, it does not take you long to start the car and finishing the journey to your family Cabin.

->Time skip<-

Charlie leans her head against the window her locks being a cushion even if it’s in a different style from usual the hairs on her shoulder being pawed at from the stray her eyes remain outside, with the car on the bridge heading towards their vacation surely she’ll spot the signs where they going.

She’ll admit she did not want to ask with the thought of jinxing the car to stop once again today, she couldn’t have that and stayed comfortable with Vaggie leaning on her shoulder holding KeeKee she didn’t want to move anyway. Her waiting rewards her while she is appreciates her city in this Carmine color she sees only one circle on the highway sign that makes sense, circle six the Morningstar Cabin.

Charlie grins her hand on her cheek peering at the up coming tunnel she can already see the surrounding forest, she giggles looking towards you and when she catches your gaze she beams wider when you grin back.

“The perfect getaway right? I’m happy we’re doing this.” Dad chimes, his voice lulling her into the past she smiles at him laying her forehead on his cheek.

“Holy shit! So this is the sixth circle, huh short prince?” Angel exclaims, rolling down the window and poking his head out not aware that Hell can come in these cool hues, even smelling nature he wouldn’t thought to smell again.

“Yeah, what comes beauty is hidden thorns.” You breath taking the sights as you ride along the river coast on one side the other is a slope of towering trees, you smile you may be a real estate monster you’ll never let anyone change the home of your much happier memories.

“Darling, you mean this forest can threaten powerful souls?” Enjoying the showcase of fangs you show to him “They would never be found again, my dear.” You respond his grin is that much wider.

Alastor peer upon the more residential area of the circle, the majority being elite Hellborns and Imps, he marks down a butcher he would like to visit and perhaps the shops as well he giggles new methods and plans to pace yourself from stress.

Your eye catch him mid giggle raising your brow you feel bad for whomever he’s thinking of with a roll of your orbs, you continue along the smooth road taking a few turns the woods remain the same with lavish manors and castles far between.

You slow to a crawl with the grand gates in front with your last name a glow, Dad starts first his head appearing above the middle console snapping his fingers, you join in grinning Charlie beams finishing the rhythm. The gates open seamlessly for you all, the path you take is long for fifteen mph the property having a few acres with a healthy garden trees and a lake, you do not have to worry about the wild life either with fifteen foot long stone walls.

Alastor notes that this isn’t a traditional wooden cabin he expected large stone walls, wood log beams with excellent multiple window placement, grand and hopefully no tacky circus decor. You park in the garage giddy with every breath you take, putting the keys in your void.

“Come on Vaggie! I can’t wait to show you our room.” Charlie beams dragging the poor girl out the garage luggage in hand.

“Imma get a room with a balcony.” Angel sings following Charlie with Husk on his tail and Niffty is gone. You prance to the trunk for your luggage when you stop to see Caster lounging on them, the cat laying his head on his paws the tail swaying lazily. You smile reaching for his fluffy ears—

“Ah, I wouldn’t do that, son. The beast got rabies.” Dad notes, you hum you’ll train him to not bite later. Caster lets out static jolt of sound jumping on your arm and going to land on dad who yelp running behind you, you leer at the beast on the floor who’s grin gotten smaller, you pick him up by the scruff.

“My, seems like Caster is defensive.” Alastor rang a smug smile on his lips, “Oh, what's there to be defensive of!” You add with a chuckle, you keep hold of Caster while your darling snap away the luggage.

“In the morning I’m making pancakes, but not for him.” Dad taunts the mini beast grabbing his case and closing the trunk and disappearing further inside. You adjust the cat to be more comfortable in your one arm while the other wraps around your darling hip, leading him to your room.

End of Part II

[arkiwii]

Thoughts on Kafka, her relationship with Silence, and analysing it in the context of Lonetrail stuff?

My thoughts on Kafka? Simple. [rolls my head over my keyboard]

I LOVE Kafka and she's an amazing character who is ABSOLUTELY underappreciated. I already had so so so much thoughts about her, and with her operator record now, I have EVEN MORE of them because it reveals SO MUCH about her character and how she met Silence. I'm so feral

WHAT I THINK ABOUT HER she's an absolute adorable young woman who CARES a lot. her files talks about how she lived in the Columbian grey zone and was involved in gang and criminality to make a living, as she is an orphan, and an infected. It caused her to adopt a "mask", the one we can see in Mansfield Break, a very impish, maybe bad intentioned girl, one that you can't trust. This was her way to stay safe, and it suceeded! People were afraid of her, avoided her, so this way, she was able to mind her own business and stay far from anything bad happening.

But, well, it's just a mask! She's truly caring, deep inside. In her operator record, we can see that she stole Silence's lunch, but had slided a coin to her to pay her back, and even more, it wasn't even for herself, because she gave the snack to a homeless boy. It already shows that she's very altruistic and watches the wellbeing of those youngers than her.

And the fact she enjoys plants! Being a gardener means a lot of patience, having to take care of living beings, to carefully watch them... She's truly very sweet

Her relationship with Silence particularly made me melt. Silence had shown a care for Kafka that she never had before from a complete stranger. It made Kafka realize that Silence might be a bit naive, she's a good person, and someone who will do great things. Kafka accepted to help her because she just decided Silence was a good person

Kafka's files made me cry for real I can't explain. Silence had dragged her in Rhodes Island, and while Kafka wasn't really wishing to stay here, she ended up accepting. And it helped Kafka to grow outside of the toxic environment that was Columbia's streets. She started to show herself, her true self, a genuine one, someone who cares, and started to truly smile. The way she looks after the children in Rhodes Island, that she became a good friend of Perfumer and hangs out at her garden... I'm just so moved by how she changed and how she grew up. And now that Silence doesn't need to look after her, the roles changed, and it's Kafka who looks after Silence.

I'm disappointed Kafka didn't appear in Lone Trail, but I always imagined Kafka being a really supportive character to Silence. Post-Lone Trail, Silence is the executive advisor of Control, but also Rhine Lab's representative of the Scientifical Ethics Committee. And it's seriously pressuring for her, she mentions it often in her voice lines, this new life is one she's uncomfortable with, but one she knows she must follow. Kafka would be an amazing emotional help, a way to remember Silence that what she does had saved her life, and many other people's - it's thanks to Silence that Anthony was out of prison and safe. It's thanks to Silence that Robin joined Rhodes Island and can get help for her dad. It's thanks to Silence that Ifrit is still alive, and can enjoy a normal life outside of a laboratory. Kafka is here to remind her this, that what Silence does is far from useless, that she can only save more lives. And Kafka is also here to distract her and be goofy when Silence needs to change her ideas from work!

Anyway, Kafka, big thumbs up. Really a big goofy baby. I WANT to see her again in the game, please drop Mansfield's Break 2 Hypergryph

[shinobus-bonnet]

Rengoku and Tengen as dads!

warnings: babies asf, mention of pregnancy, fluff, black reader in mind so black babies in mind el o el

DARK CONTENT CONSUMERS/AUTHORS DNI

Starting off with that they both are girl dads.

They spoil their baby girls like it's sick. They just have to give their daddies those big dough eyes and that pout and they fold immediately

They definitely get in trouble in by you because they have to learn that not everything will be handed to them but they don't listen

But anyways, Rengoku has twins (two girls) and Tengen has triplets (two boys one girl)

when you told ren that you were pregnant...with girls he was elated. especially because girls weren't dominant in his family, having not one girl BUT two had him head over heels.

He's a helicopter father throughout the whole pregnancy.

Basically, parent proofed the house like if he saw you get up and get something he would be extremely upset cause he didn't want you to get hurt.

Anyways every time you woke up he always talked to the girls while resting his head on your tummy. He talked so sweet to them while you were carrying them

But he always gave you praise and thank you for trusting him to have yalls child together.

It was a new found partnership between you guys.

When the baby comes prepare for him to have the girls all the time,

he definitely names them after a type of flower he gives me those vibes.

nap times are with him feeding is with him tummy time is with him

he knows that you are you healing so he's always taking care of the girls

when they’re about one and half they start screaming "daddy" when they hear his voice coming through the door

their little curls bounce as their legs guide them to the front door

he immediately sets his stuff down and picks them up and hugs them

One twin is a bit reserved while the other twin is very extroverted like her dad.

As for Tengen babies. CHAOS

those boys are his twins and act just like him so now you have two little uzuis running around your house wanting to be just like their dad.

The baby girl is the sane one but don't piss her off she will start acting like her father.

when the two of you found out that you were having triplets he nearly fell out.

not one not two BUT THREE BABIES

It didn't seem real to the both of yall but yall made it work.

Uzi is a little more relaxed when it came to you but he always helped with everything that you needed.

When the babies came. He was in love. the way one of the boys had brow hair and the other boy and his sister had grey hair had him stunned

they started gaining their personality pretty early into their life. with the boys being loud and running around the place like they pay bills

So tengen got them started early for their training

even if they don't do it correctly he never makes them feel bad and always praises them

His daughter asked if she could train with them with a little pout because she felt left out and he responded with the sweetest smile "sure pretty girl come on"

which led her to be rough, always fighting her brothers and poking them in the eye and she would always act innocent afterward LMFAOOO, especially with her simp of a father

uzi carries all three babies in his arms until they are at least 2 and a half

his daughter is always curled into his lap when its nap time

something she carried on from her parent

I think these are it LMFAOO