#harper x inki

[elspethdekarios]

Last Light: Gale x Tav

NSFW!!! 🔞

This fic takes place directly after the crew return to Last Light after defeating Ketheric. It's half emotional and sweet, half smut. Yeah, I know it's unrealistic to think that anyone has enough energy to bang after the Moonrise fight, pls suspend your disbelief lol

I hope you enjoy, I put a lot of time into this and I'm quite proud of it 🥹💜

Before you read, you should know a small bit of background info:

My tav, Elspeth, has a ring she's worn for decades that was given to her by her family's housekeeper, Tessie, who thinks of Elspeth as her own. She's always felt more loved by Tessie than she has her own family. The ring is special to her, and it broke shortly into their journey.

------

A crack ran along the surface of the Selunite dome protecting the Last Light Inn, spreading in fractals like the roots of a tree. Slowly, the dome dissipated, following the motions of Isobel’s raised hands. It was still dark outside, but a different darkness–the inky depths of a night sky instead of a green necrotic glow. The air in my lungs felt cleaner, lighter. All around the inn, tieflings and Flaming Fists and Harpers rejoiced with excited squeals, hugging their still-standing loved ones and marveling at the miracle we were witnessing. A hundred years this blight cursed the land–and suddenly, it was gone. 

“I won’t fully believe it until the day breaks,” Jaheira said from Isobel’s side. “But I will celebrate all the same.”

I sat on the ground nearby, propped up against a trunk of supplies. My limbs ached, my armor was bloodied, my spirit renewed and spent at the same time. I peeled off my gloves to stretch my fingers, the night air cool and soothing on my sticky skin.

“Alright, soldier?” Karlach’s familiar heat told me she was nearby before she spoke. And the smell of beer. She handed me a mug, frosty and overflowing with foam at the top, and clinked her beer against mine. “We fucking did it! You did it!”

“Yeah, we did,” I said as I gulped down the cold beer. It was the most refreshing drink I’d ever had in my life–and beer was never my beverage of choice. “Though I’m not sure how much of me is left.”

“You lose a limb or something?” she asked. I shook my head. “Didn’t think so. You’ll be good as new after some rest.”

I let my head fall back against the trunk behind me. Just keeping my neck upright was exhausting. We watched the celebration unfolding around us–the residents of Last Light draining the kegs, passing around fresh bread rolls and what fruit we had left. Dammon had even left his forge to join in, laughing in conversation with some of the others. Karlach kept looking in his direction, just briefly, before she would conspicuously look up at the sky or crane her head to the opposite side.

“You like him, don’t you?” I asked.

“What? Who?”

“Dammon.” I nudged her shoulder with mine.

“I don’t–” Karlach protested, but paused when she turned her head towards me and sighed. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

“Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone, El.”

“I’m not alone. Look at all these people,” I gestured around us. “Besides, I’m about to go and find Gale. Not sure what he’s up to, now that I think about it….”

After we finished our beers and Karlach strode across the lawn to join Dammon, I headed inside. The bar was lively, a Fist and a tiefling pouring drinks for anyone who wanted one, but not quite as crowded as outside. I supposed everyone wanted to see the sky without the shadow curse as much as possible. Among the few patrons was Gale, leaning on his elbows against the bar as he waited for a drink. Two drinks, actually.

“Are those both for you?” I teased as I slid into the space next to him. He was impeccably clean, clothes and all. He had either taken a bath already or used some spell of his devising. I felt even filthier in comparison. 

“That, I am still deciding.” He kissed my forehead and handed me one of the goblets. “You were magnificent.”

“As were you.”

“We make a good team, then.”

“Are you… feeling okay? About your decision, I mean.”

“I will be,” he said. “I’m glad we’re still alive, of course. I’d choose you a thousand times over. I’m upset with myself for being so… willing to destroy myself and the people around me. But–” he took a gulp from his cup. “Tonight is for celebration. I can work through my emotions tomorrow.”

I placed my hand over his with a sad smile. I was trying my hardest to stay upright, my eyelids were beginning to fall involuntarily, my head threatening to do the same.

“Do you want me to run you a hot bath? Might be a good time for one, with everyone still celebrating.”

“That would be lovely,” I said. “But only if you can help me get up the stairs and take this bloody armor off.”

“Deal,” he smiled, offering me his arm.

In our group’s shared bedroom, Gale helped take off my armor, piece by piece, and added them to a pile of washing to be done. First the pauldrons, then the chest plate, and so on until I was only in my underclothes.

“I’ll go start the water,” he said as he walked to the washroom, turning to face me again at the door frame. “Do we have any fresh towels in here?”

“I have some on my bed. I’ll get them.”

I had placed a stack of folded towels on my bed days ago–my bed that I hadn’t been sleeping in. I’d been sleeping in Gale’s. The towels were untouched, still neatly folded where I left them. Only now, a small golden pouch sat atop them, tied with a green ribbon that also held a small scroll. I unrolled the parchment, the smallest hint of magic in my fingertips as I did, and read:

“My dearest Elspeth,

Words alone can never express how much you mean to me. Actions, perhaps, may let me get closer to the heart of it. I know not where our journey will take us. I feel it may be blasphemous to think about the future, but sometimes those fantasies are the very anchor to which I hoist my soul. When sleep is futile or all hope seems lost, I think of you. I imagine holding your hand as I show you around Waterdeep, showing you my favorite spots and learning which places will become yours. I see you curled up in front of the fire in the library, an open book discarded next to you as you sleep without a care in the world. I see a life with you–a normal life. I want that more than anything in the world.

Despite my waxing poetic about our future, this gift is simply that–a gift. I love you.

Yours always,

Gale”

Inside the pouch was Tessie’s ring. The crack had been soldered together with silver, leaving a subtle seam in its place, remnants of the molten metal’s shape before it dried. I looked up through the tears welling in my eyes to see Gale leaning against the door frame, scratching his beard and averting his eyes to the ground.

“I hope it’s okay,” he said. “I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries, and I know there are flaws, but Dammon and I–”

I bolted over to him, interrupting his rambling by pulling him into a deep kiss. I could feel the tension in his body melt away as he rested his hands on my waist. The steam from the bath enveloped us in a cloud of fresh rose and mint–where did he even get this soap?

“It’s perfect.” I embraced him, resting my head on his chest as he squeezed me back. “Thank you.”

“I’m so glad you approve,” he said. “I was worried I went too far, altering something so sentimental to you.”

“This means so much to me, Gale. You mean so much to me.” His eyes found my own,

glassy and emotional, juxtaposed against his upturned lips. “Thank you for choosing me. For staying here with me. I… don’t know if I could go on without you. The possibility of our future is the glue that keeps me together. I know it’s hard to talk about, considering everything, but Gale–I’m yours. I want to be yours forever. I want to wake up next to you every day without the lingering thought that it could be our last. To love you with my whole body and soul and declare it to the entire world.” I caressed his face, looking deep into his eyes. “You are so precious to me.”

My voice broke on the last sentence and teardrops stained the blue fabric of his shirt. He kissed me again and pulled me close.

“Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream,” he murmured, forehead pressed to mine, pushing a section of loose hair behind my ear. “I don’t know how else I could have managed to get you to love me.”

“It’s not a dream,” I whispered into another kiss, a gentle one, lips light as air. “I love you. All you ever have to do is exist, and I’ll love you.”

He ran his hands down my shoulders, my arms, and back up again. I took his top lip between mine, my tongue gently moving into his mouth. He caressed the thin strap of my bra with the back of his fingers and gently pulled it down my shoulder, smirking.

“I have to get cleaned up first,” I whispered into his mouth. 

“I can be patient.”

Once I was sunk to my neck in the hot water, Gale excused himself from the room.

“Relax, my love,” he said. “I’ll be back in just a few moments.”

The weight of my body dissipated as the heat worked its way into my sore muscles and aching bones. The fresh, soapy aroma, the steam, the twinkling lights Gale conjured across the ceiling of the dim, candlelit room–it felt like a luxury spa rather than a washroom in a nearly abandoned inn. Alone with my thoughts, images of the illithid colony flooded my mind’s eye. I kept remembering the tendons holding the place together, the bugbear dismembering bodies, the abject image of Ketheric Thorm himself…. I plunged my head under the water, which felt almost scalding hot on my face, and tried to clear the thoughts from my mind, but it wasn’t working. Nothing was working. I tried to cast a spell to calm my emotions, but my magic was spent. 

Gale returned moments later with two large cups of ice cold water and a knowing smile on his face.

“I think we’ve both had enough alcohol for the night,” he said, sitting down on the floor beside the tub. “We’re already in for a rough morning after such a fight, and nursing a hangover won’t make it any easier.”

After gulping down the water, I began to wash. Gale insisted on washing my hair, his strong hands massaging circles into my scalp. It was enough to put me straight to sleep. Once my hair was rinsed and my body thoroughly cleaned of grime, Gale wrapped my shoulders in a towel as I stepped out of the tub.

“I have another surprise for you,” he said, kissing the pointed tip of my ear.

“Another? Gale, you spoil me,” I teased him and wrung my wet hair into the towel. He only held up a dangling keyring and grinned.

“I asked Jaheira for the private bedroom downstairs. It’s ours for the night.”

“You really know how to smooth talk your way into anything, don’t you?”

“She can hardly say no,” he said. “We just saved this place and killed her sworn enemy.”

I moved to pull on my nightclothes, but Gale stopped me with a gentle hand on my wrist. “No need to get dressed when I’ll just be taking everything off of you.”

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and he could see it, judging by the devilish grin that crossed his face.

“And how exactly am I supposed to get downstairs?”

One invisibility spell and a couple of arcane locks later, Gale and I were lying naked on top of the surprisingly soft duvet in the bedroom downstairs. A very faint steam rose from my skin in the cool air as I propped myself up on my elbows like a sphynx, hovering over Gale’s devoted, sleepy face as I played with his hair.

“You went through all this trouble just to fall asleep on me?” I teased as I watched his eyelids flutter shut.

“Your fingers running through my hair may as well be an enchanted lullaby,” he said before forcing his eyes back open. “In truth, I’m exhausted.”

“I know you are, love. So am I. We can just lie here if you want.”

With a hand on the back of my head, he pulled me close for a kiss.

“I want to make love to you,” he whispered against my lips. “I want to show you that when I chose you, I meant it.”

A burst of energy ran through me with his words. I swung a leg over his body, straddling his hips as I knit my hands deep into his hair and pressed kisses into his neck. The musk of his skin was intoxicating, a warm, clean sweetness with a hint of something spicy underneath that was impossible to resist. I ran my tongue over the indented scar that trailed up his neck, sucking soft love marks down to his collarbone, savoring the salt of his skin. 

He sighed with pleasure and trailed his hands down my body, gentle and deliberate–my skin an ancient carving, his fingertips an artist’s charcoal capturing its relief. I lowered my hips to match his, guiding him to me, movement taking over my body as I pressed myself into him, sliding his length through me again and again. His low moans grew guttural. He was perfect–he was everything. Exhausted as we were, I wanted nothing more than to take fully of him until the first hint of morning light.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed into my ear, pushing my damp hair over my shoulder for full access to my neck. I felt his lips start kissing beneath my jaw and move down my tattoo–over the rose, the leaves that climbed towards the center of my neck, and down to the thorny vines reaching towards my collarbone. He took his time, lingering on the dip of the bone to my chest before his hands on my waist pulled me up so that my breasts fell directly over his face. His hands–gods, his hands–were squeezing gently, fingers caressing over the peaks before doing the same with his tongue. 

Gale’s breaths became quicker and he moaned into my skin as I pleasured myself with him, grinding my clit over the ridges of his cock, slick now with my desire. I was lost in him. My face was buried in his neck, my hips becoming the only alert part of my body. All the thoughts and worries in my head had given way to the carnal need I had for him, the ache I felt deep in my core as I looked upon his face. His neck was arched over the pillow, pushing his chin towards the ceiling as exhales and low moans escaped from his lips, the apex of his throat pulsing with each sound. The orb glowed a bright violet from the center of his chest and up his neck. A faint light even could even be seen beneath the skin of his face where the orb’s tendrils reached towards his eye. 

Gods, I loved this man. The curve of his lips when he smiled, the stray hairs that fell in front of his face no matter how many times he pushed them back, the freckle on his temple–I was certain there had never been a more exquisite man to walk the face of Toril. 

As if he could feel me staring, he opened his eyes and began to sit up, holding my waist as he moved me into his lap.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my love?” he asked with a smile, and I nodded as I fervently kissed every inch of his face. “Let me take over, dearest. It was my idea, after all.”

“You said you were tired,” I said between kisses. 

“Mm… not anymore” he mumbled while my lips trailed over his. “Turn around.”

I did as he said. Still upright on my knees, eager hands found my waist as Gale pressed our bodies together and kissed the back of my neck and shoulders, his warm breath sending chills down my spine. One of his hands grabbed my breast while the other dropped between my legs. He ran a feather-light finger through the center, barely parting me. My body twitched in anticipation of his touch, but he only repeated the motion, softly chuckling into my shoulder.

“Gale,” I begged. “Please.”

I expected him to continue teasing me until I was pleading, but, to my surprise, he parted me with two fingers, swirling slow circles around my clit. My hips jerked of their own accord against his movements, and I could feel the climax growing inside me, threatening to come to the surface. I placed my hand on top of his, pulling it away.

“Not ready yet,” was all I managed to say, language suddenly nonexistent in my brain. 

“Okay, love.” Gale ran both hands down my sides and over my thighs, slowly and deliberately, until I was begging for him again. 

He slipped a hand between my legs from behind and pumped his long fingers into me. The breath hitched in my throat as I cried out, his fingers moving in and out at a sensual pace, eager but reveling in the moment. There was no way I could stay upright, so I lowered onto my elbows, positioning myself for him, watching him as best I could from over my shoulder as he continued.

“My beautiful girl,” he said with awe as he took in the sight of me spread fully before him. He removed his fingers from me, glistening wet, and sucked them into his mouth, humming in ecstasy, eyes rolled back like he was savoring a luxury meal. “How did I get so lucky?”

Rhetorical question or not, I had no time to answer before he pulled my hips closer to him and sank himself into me slowly. We moaned simultaneously, his cock pushing deeper until I had taken all of him. His first thrusts were tender, each of us relishing in every ridge, every sensation of each others’ bodies. An involuntary groan escaped my mouth each time he plunged into me, and I was thanking the gods that people were still celebrating outside the inn.

As much as I was enjoying the pure bliss of his unhurried pace, my body was begging for him to take me, all of me, with wild abandon. I found his rhythm, my hips bouncing along with his thrusting until he was slamming into me, my cries feral, his panting loud between moans. Gale pressed me into the mattress with a strong, loving hand on my back before taking full control and pounding into me, all caution gone, carnal desire overtaking him. I could feel sweat beginning to dampen his skin as he panted, huffing with exertion, grunting and moaning and losing himself in the moment. After several minutes of vigorous pounding, his pace began to slow, and he sank back to his knees. I rolled over to face him.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, catching his breath, orb pulsing with the beat of his heart. “I got carried away.”

“Never apologize.” I crawled towards him, gently pushing him onto his back. “I’m yours,” I whispered in his ear. “You can have me however you’d like.” 

“Is that so?” he grinned and I nodded, dropping a kiss to his lips. “Then come here.”

His hands pressed into my thighs as he pulled me to kneel over his face, his tongue lapping and flicking as I held onto the headboard and tried to muffle the whimpering cries escaping my lips. My hips bucked beneath me, grinding against his face, dizzy with ecstasy and anticipation.

“Can’t… Gale… going to–”

The tight pressure in my core sprung loose. I cried out, gods only know how loud, as Gale held my thighs in place and drank from me deeply as I came. His own low moans vibrated against my already-spasming flesh, tongue still lapping against me as the wave of bliss began to subside and my limbs became impossibly heavy. Hypersensitivity made me squirm and whimper.

“Gale!” I pleaded between sharp gasps and yelps. He finally let go of my legs, a desperate desire on his glistening face when he emerged.

In one swift movement he had me on my back with a leg over his shoulder. I caught only a glimpse of his sculpted cock, stiff and flushed, before he thrust inside of me. His eyes roamed over my body, but settled on the dripping valley between my legs where he watched as he fucked me, biting his lip in concentration. 

I caressed his face, and he kissed the inside of my palm before melting into me with all his weight as he took everything he needed from me. Sweat coated his back where my legs wrapped around his hips. I held him close to me, his jagged breathing loud in my ears and hot on my neck. Wild thrusts took over his body until he unraveled, panting and gasping and crying out until he was spent. He collapsed on top of me and I hugged him close, his chest heaving against mine as we caught our breath.

“I love you,” I whispered, kissing his temple. “Thank you for choosing to stay. For choosing me.” 

Gale let out a long sigh before rolling onto the bed beside me and lacing his fingers through mine. “I love you, El. Although the word ‘love’ doesn’t feel like enough when it comes to my feelings for you,” he said, kissing my hand. “Unfortunately, my brain and body are currently too far gone to find a suitable alternative.”

I laughed and snuggled into his side. I felt safe. Secure. I knew Gale felt the same. We had no need to hide any parts of ourselves, no matter how flawed. We held each other as sleep closed in, our souls as bare as our bodies.

[albatmobile]

Cardinal Sins Chapter 7

𓅪 Living with your vigilante boyfriends for the past year has been amazing, well, almost. Butting heads, old wounds resurfacing and a deadly threat still looming overhead could threaten the sanctity of everything you've ever fought for. Will you finally overcome your tainted past and survive the trials and tribulations, or will your relationships and your faith crumble under the pressure?

Rated: M | TW: violence | 8.6k Contains: lian content, interrogation, misunderstandings and a situation that changes everything fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist] Previous in Series: Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds

Chapter 7: Landslide

Reuniting later that night with Lian is surreal.

The three of you are back at your place, something you can tell puts both men at ease, but you don’t have time to question it. 

She’s been forewarned that you’re still sick and recovering, but this doesn’t stop her from bounding up onto your bed to give you hugs and kisses. She spends the next half-hour showing you all the pictures she’s drawn in your absence and even fixes the messy braids her dad has bestowed upon you. 

“You know what?” she says suddenly. You watch as she carefully sets down the drawings on her dads shared nightstand, then anxiously tucks a stray piece of her inky black hair behind her tanned ear, “I thought you left me.” Your heart shatters. “I thought you weren’t coming back like my first mommy.”

Heart shattered??? No, your entire being is crushed to a pulp.

“Never, Lian,” you swear to her as you pull her in for as tight a hug as you can manage in your recovering state. “I promise I’d never leave you. Not willingly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m going to do everything in my power, you know, whatever it takes, to make sure our family stays together,” she nods lightly at your statement, though she begins to pick at the seams the duvet you’re under. “I like it when we’re all together,” you say with a genuine smile, poking at her lightly until she finally gives in and smiles back.

“Me, too.” The little girl squeezes you with all her might before Jason and Roy come in to dress your wounds. 

“Lian, go finish the picture you started for her the other day while we get her cleaned up, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.” 

Jason presses a kiss to her forehead as she slips down the tall bed.

They gently lay you down on the king-sized mattress and clean your healing wounds with delicate precision. You don’t know what to say and it seems like they’re clearly in the same boat.

“I should’ve been paying more attention,” you lament with a weary exhale. “I didn’t mean to put anyone through this shit.”

“Stop it. No one blames you,” Jason grumbles as he gently checks over your head wound. “It could’ve happened to any of us.”

“We all really missed you,” Roy cuts in before you can retort, hoping to cut off another pissing fest before it starts. His soft hands trail up and down your exposed legs comfortingly. “It was really hard coping without you.”

Your brows furrow together, suddenly remembering how much Roy had been struggling so much before your accident.

“I’m sor-“

“Don’t,” Roy warns lightly. His light green eyes flash with an unreadable emotion briefly before he slowly goes back to trailing up and down your legs. “You don’t owe anyone an apology, baby.”

You’re in your comfy clothes, one of their over-sized shirts and your short, cotton shirt as you watch the two of them watching you. It’s like they’re scared to take their eyes off of you for fear of missing out on any more time with you.

“Besides,” Jason starts as he finishes off cleaning the wound from your feeding tube, “it’s not like we didn’t try to deal with shit while you were…”

You watch as he trails off, swallowing deeply before forcing himself to put the kit away. 

“Even if you didn’t, it’s clear that we need better coping mechanisms to be more supportive of each other as a family, anyway,” you say. “I was wanting to bring it up before… you know,” your hands wring together anxiously until Jason and Roy each take one into their grip and squeeze gently. 

“Of course, babe.”

“We hear you,” Roy says. The redhead leans down to kiss your hand delicately, then your lips, then Jason’s.

You bask in their presence for a while, simply glad to be back in their arms again.

Though you feel as if it’s been mere days, the idea that it’s been almost a month has steadily been eating into you. You can’t even begin to imagine how either of them are feeling after not having you be there for them for that long. The whole situation is so fucked and you know this is only the beginning of, well, everything. 

“We did end up talking about it a bit with Bruce,” Jason’s deep voice cuts through the quiet room. “Technically, I was ambushed into talking to him, but we really tried to work through our shit so we could be strong for you while you recovered.”

“That’s good,” you say with a smile, knowing he’s pushing himself to be open right now. Whatever talk they had must’ve worked at least somewhat.

“That and Roy made sure to keep up with his therapy,” Jason boasts in Roy’s stead, who bashfully ducks his head in response. 

This makes you smile even more.

“Even got Jay to join me for a bit one during one, baby,” Roy says with a wink, though it slightly lacks his usual enthusiasm. If you’re this worn out you can’t imagine how they must be feeling. “Maybe when you’re feeling better we could all do a group session.” Logically, you know he’s talking about group therapy, however, your body suddenly feels the weight of going nearly a month without sex. You can’t help the heat that stirs across your cheeks at his words, something he notices with an easy smirk. “Calm down, princess. Jaybird’s outlawed sex for at least another week.”

You pout. “So this means I’m barred from the field, too?”

“How can you even think about shit like that when you were still a vegetable this time yesterday?” Jason says as he comes back into the room and joins the two of you on the bed.

“I resent that description,” you retort, glaring at him half-heartedly as he snuggles up beside you.

“Resenting the truth never did anyone any good,” Jason says. He looks pointedly your way before placing a chaste kiss against your still blushing cheeks. “And you need bed rest for at least a few days before you can even think of training again, let alone getting back out there.”

“Not to mention, you still need to process everything that just happened,” Roy begins as he lightly rub at your shoulders. “Believe me, Jason and I wish we’d done the same when we went through all of our shit.” 

Jason concurs, “You really don’t want to blow past this now and pay for it later, babe.”

You know they’re right, but you only have one thing on your mind…

“It’s hard when all I can focus on is this fucking case,” you say with a sigh.

It’s always been abundantly clear that time’s never guaranteed and can’t help but feel like you’re steadily running out of time to uncover the mystery. Not to mention, you want to act on the visions you’d seen while you’d been unconscious, though you can’t deny you’re somewhat hesitant to follow them after the shit-show that happened last time you did.

“Well, focus on healing first. Roy and I have continued looking into leads for the court,” Jason says. Meanwhile, his hands begin to trail over the areas of your body that Roy isn’t currently touching until you feel absolutely pampered.

“You have?” you ask and they nod in response. It’s what happens next that lets you in on the fact that they found something. They look at each other, not just a normal look. No, this look 100% reads like they’re wondering if they should tell you what they’ve found or not. You squint your eyes at Jason, then at Roy. You’re not going to give them the choice. “Tell me what you found,” you demand, leaving no room for argument- or, so you think.

“You should take it easy for at least today,” Roy argues gently. Now, they’re both look at you with evident concern.

“I will,” you say, smirking when they seem to relax, “after you tell me the lead.”

Jason huffs, rolling his eyes in what you know is thinly veiled amusement. As much as he claims to hate your stubborn nature, you know he also secretly loves it.

They stay quiet for another beat before Roy goes to grab his laptop from the living room.

Jason’s eyes have yet to leave the side of your face, so you shift to face him, still in his arms. “I missed you,” your name leaves his lips as a breath, “so fucking much.”

You curl further into him, reveling when he pulls you in for a soft kiss. It’s chaste and gentle, yet you can’t help but curl your toes at the intimate contact.

“Jason,” you whisper once you pull away. 

Your half-lidded eyes meet his own briefly before you’re pulled back in. Though he’s being remarkably gentle, he dares to deepen the kiss, leaving you to moan gently against his smooth lips. 

“You almost done over there, etai yazi?” You hear Roy ask as he makes his way back to the room. “Oh, damn,” Roy sputters at the sight that meets him. His verdant eyes glint mischievously as he comes upon the two of you tangled together in your sheets. “What happened to waiting a week, Jay?”

Jason regrettably pulls away, though his calloused fingers remain caressing your jawline. It’s as if he’s debating pulling you back already.

“Guess I couldn’t help myself,” Jason replies, his deep voice reverberating every molecule of your being.

In an instant, Roy drops the laptop at the edge of the bed before climbing over to join the two of you. The redhead kisses at your shoulders before maneuvering your head to the side to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss that you have no choice but to smile into. He pulls away with a smirk, wiping your wet lips with his thumb before carefully leaning over you to give Jason an even more obnoxious kiss.

You can’t help but laugh, feeling like everything’s finally how it’s supposed to be for once. “I love you both so much,” you sigh and nuzzle against their protective embrace.

The three of you know you only have so long before Lian comes back, leaving you to get back to business quickly. This time, they don’t take as much convincing before they spill everything.

“We have a lead on a guy who may know something about The Court,” Jason says. “We don’t know his name, but we know that he hangs around the some shitty bar by the harbor.”

Roy interjects, “And that the dude has an owl tattoo on his chest.”

“Say he likes to act like a hardass, but underneath, he’s just another Bristol cuck. Shouldn’t take too much to get information about the next Court meeting out of him.”

You mull the information over in your head but can’t help but go back to how they got the information.

“Who told you about him?”

They both look instantly guilty.

Bingo.

You sigh, feeling an argument coming on. Well, either that or a headache. “I thought you were both done with that drug lord shit. You promised me to drop all those contacts when we made things official, did you not?”

They both look guilty enough that you already have your answer.

Roy speaks first, “We did, baby. You’re right and we feel really bad about it but-“

“The circumstances were dire,” Jason finishes right where Roy left off. “You weren’t gone, but you weren’t here. We sat around for weeks not knowing if you’d,” he sighs as if unable to finish his sentence. 

“We didn’t know if you’d ever wake up, baby,” Roy laments as he moves to take one of your hands into his own. 

For a moment, you think about pulling away from him, but you don’t. Regardless, you’re still pouting and your displeasure over the whole situation is very much evident.

Soon, Jason’s taking your other hand into his own. No one says anything for a moment, something you’re grateful for. The past day has been a lot to deal with mentally, this added on to it is like the icing on top of the cake.

“Well, now I know neither of you are going to give me shit for tagging along.”

Checkmate.

They glance over at each other and you watch the brief conversation they share through their eyes alone. Finally, they look back at you.

“Fine, but you’re not coming in,” Roy answers for both of them.

“I have to stay in the car?!” you question incredulously. 

Un-checkmate.

“Babe.” Jason rubs gently at your hand in lieu of a further response.

A beat, then you answer. “Fine,” you agree, albeit pettily.

You hear her determined patter before you see her. Seconds later, Lian rounds the hallway and into your room with her picture triumphantly displayed in front of her.

“Look!” 

Without warning, she leaps onto the bed to shove the paper in front of your face. 

Your eyes cross as you stare at the image that’s now three inches in front of your face. You gently take it from her hands with a smile and place it on your lap to get a better look. The figures are crudely drawn, but it’s clearly a picture of you and her daddies at a tea party. Hearts and flowers, coupled with a random sun in the corner, grace the page, leaving a thrumming warmness to fill your chest.

“Thank you, chickie,” you say, causing her to giggle at your nickname for her. “I’m going to keep this with me forever.” At this, you motion her over and she gently settles in your lap so you can kiss her forehead. 

You never made art for your parents, let alone received anything like this from Lian before. It warms your heart in a moment where you feel entirely vulnerable, weak. Through this picture alone, your little girl manages to make you feel important and loved. The good outweighs the bad and you find yourself feeling stronger through her tenacious presence alone. 

“I’ll make you some more, mommy. I’m a really good drawer and I used all my new colored pencils to make it extra pretty for you,” she babbles on about her drawing process, along with how Grandpa Alfred got all the new art supplies for her, while she’s in your arms. 

Meanwhile, Jason and Roy look at the scene in front of them like it’s the cutest damned thing they’ve ever seen.

“I love it so much. Definitely makes me feel a lot better.” She beams at that. Your words are simple, but you hope they convey just how much it means to you. You place the drawing on the bedside table, mindful of your injuries and the little girl, before addressing her, “Wanna stay and hang out with mommy and daddies? We can do whatever you want.”

“Really?!” she exclaims, bouncing in your lap. You wince slightly at the movement and exhale shakily in response. Roy joins you on the bed to collect her into his own lap so she can’t hurt you on accident. She pouts a bit at the recent development, “I don’t want you. I want mommy.”

Roy gasps, pretending to be hurt when she tries to crawl back over to you, “Etai yazi, you’re hurting dad’s feelings.”

“I don’t giffa duck,” Lian attempts to curse as she squirms out of his hold. The kid is nearly home free when Jason scoops her up.

“Mommy is hurting, remember?”

“But, daddy,” she pouts in Jason’s arms.

“No cursing either,” he says.

“I didn’t!” she exclaims.

“Lian,” he warns her with what she refers to as his ’scary eyes.’

She huffs, crossing her arms in his hold, “Fine.”

Jason can’t help but smile a bit, though he quickly schools it so she doesn’t get the idea that cursing is funny. See, situations like this just prove that being an adult sucks. A five year old incorrectly cursing like a sailor? Shit’s fucking funny. Can you laugh at it? No, because then you’d be a bad parent, encouraging bad behavior. See? Sucks.

“Be gentle,” Jason reprimands her lightly as he places her back on bed. 

You open your arms and she slowly crawls over to cuddle between you and her dad. This time, she treats you like she treats her favorite blankie, petting you softly in apology with little kisses on your hand.

“I’m sorry,” she pouts again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She’s adorable.

You smile softly before assuaging her worries, “It’s alright, chickie. So, what would you want to do tonight?”

After it’s been decided that Lian wants to watch the new Superman show, Jason sets about creating a tea party very similar to the one in her cute drawing. He leaves and quickly returns with a tray filled with steaming tea cups and snack cakes that make your stomach grumble. Before you can try to reach for them, Jason shoots you a pointed look as he reveals the hidden bowl of soup behind them.

“You heathens be careful, alright?” Jason warns. “I’m not cleaning these sheets again.”

However, Roy just snorts and digs into the tea sandwiches with fervor with Lian soon following in his example.

You, on the other hand, are supposed to be on a liquid diet for the next few days while your body slowly gets used to you incorporating solid foods back into your diet. This means that soup and tea are all you get. It doesn’t make your cravings go away in the slightest, however. You watch enviously as Roy and Lian scarf down the snack cakes that are calling your name.

“Maybe if I just have a little bite,” you try, but Jason just hands you the soup he’d made from scratch with Lian for you. During which, Roy had been cuddled up against you while you dozed in and out of consciousness.

“Let’s just stick to soups and smoothies for at least another day, babe,” Jason insists and rubs your palm gently as if to apologize. “It hasn’t even been 24 hours since you woke up.” He holds a distant look in his dark green eyes, reminding you of the pain you’d caused in your absence.

You pout, crossing your arms petulantly as you allow him to feed you. The soup is flavorful yet gentle on your upset stomach. 

“Do you like the soup, mommy?”

Your heart fills with warmth as the liquid slides down your sore throat. 

“It’s amazing.” You uncross your arms to ruffle lightly at your hair. “You’re an incredible soup chef,” you praise her.

“I’m the best soup chef in the whole entire world,” Lian agrees. She goes to retaliate by ruffling your hair, too but Roy holds her back, nearly spilling his food on the duvet in the process.

Jason shoots him a glare that begs him to fuck up the clean sheets, but Roy’s too busy reminding Lian to be gentle to notice. You, on the other hand, drink in the adorable sight as Jason offers you another spoonful.

“Thank you guys,” you say genuinely. “For all of this. It feels good to be back.”

“Feels good to have you back,” Roy responds.

“And let’s keep it that way,” Lian adds sassily with an adorable pout you know she’s picking up from you. 

Cute.

“I promise.” And you mean it. 

You refuse to let anyone come between you and your family ever again. 

Not this time.

•••

You haven’t been sleeping well ever since the coma. 

It seems like every time you shut your eyes, the visions that you can’t make sense of are growing stronger and stronger. It’s getting to the point that you’re lucky to catch three hours of sleep, if that. Regardless of the lack of sleep, you’ve been doubling down on recovery and training. You’ve worked hard enough that you’ve not only made some insane progress in your overall healing but also in getting back in the field.

Yes, you’d been in a coma but you weren’t crippled. Far from it, in fact.

With Lian being off with Alfred for your bi-weekly date night, it was something neither had any logical reason to refuse. Especially not after you’d voiced feeling left out on missions. 

This is how you end up a week and a half later at the sleaziest dive in Gotham- The Stacked Deck.

The brick building itself is completely rundown, complete with a flickering neon sign gracing a dented pole that someone had obviously run into a few decades prior. Outside, C-list villains and gangs of motorcyclists loiter around the weed-covered, decrepit parking lot. 

Roy insists on taking the minivan so you can sit this one out, something you and Jason fight against, after all, it would only draw unnecessary attention to your crew. Eventually, Jason concedes, which is how the three of you end up cramped into the busted minivan sans a license plate. 

When you pull up, all eyes easily fall on the out-of-place vehicle, though everyone goes back to minding their business as soon as Hood and Arsenal emerge in full uniform from the beat-up mom car.

They’re on a mission to find out any information they can on the Court’s whereabouts from the contact they’d tracked down while you’d been in a coma. He was the only possible tie they could find to the elusive owl society, but, luckily, he’d been described as the type to squeal. 

You, on the other hand?

Yes, you’re donning Cardinals vinyl red garb. However, you’ve still been banished to the car. You sigh as you lean up against the peeling window tint. Part of you wonders why you begged to come along if all you were going to be doing was sitting in a locked car. Hell, even dogs have more rights than this shit, you think bitterly. 

It’s hot as fuck outside even though it’s well past midnight and you sincerely regret your decision to suit up. You wait a few more minutes in the heat before you give up. Luckily, the shitty car is old enough to have window cranks, so you’re able to crack the window a bit without the keys. This minuscule action, however, ends up drawing more attention than you’d expected. Okay, no worries, you tell yourself as you see movement coming closer out of the corner of your eye. Just play it cool.

You remain facing forward, refusing eye contact with a bulky-looking dude that sidles up and knocks on the window you’re attempting to crank shut as nonchalantly as possible.

What the fuck is wrong with men?

You keep staring at the dashboard in front of you and try to ignore them, but the man keeps knocking and is soon joined by his gaggle of friends.

“Guess I missed the Halloween memo, huh, sweetheart?” the burly man says, tugging at his leather vest. He then throws the cigarette in his mouth to the ground and stomps it out in, what you assume is supposed to be, a menacing action, but you merely roll your eyes under your mask.

The eye roll stops as soon as your eyes land on the huge owl tattoo that peeks out from behind his ratted white shirt.

Holy shit. There’s no way…

This is the dude Jason and Roy are after! 

He landed right in your fucking lap and you know you’d be stupid to let this opportunity pass. Just because you aren’t necessarily in the mood to pummel these chauvinistic pigs into the pavement, but it doesn’t mean you won’t.

His buddies exchange a few words, but everything said is ultimately muffled by the glass separating you.

You can’t imagine what’s holding your partners up, but you know that you can’t wait much longer. You refuse to risk your only lead when you know damn well that you can handle these punks on your own.

You’re soon startled from your thoughts when one of the assholes shoots a bullet and ends up shattering the side mirror.

“That’s it,” you mutter in frustration as you unlock the door. You slowly slink out of the car, closing the door effortlessly behind you as the men take in your shorter form.

“I’m sorry,” one spouts as you slowly twist one wrist, then the other to stretch them out, “is it supposed to be scary? Because all I can see is you shaking that ass on me in that tight number you got on there, girl.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the closest man to the left of your target snorts. “No parking zone sweetie, but you can park here,” the man gestures to his dick with a sinister smirk, “all night long.” 

The men all get a decent laugh, thinking their joke is so fucking original or something, but you feel like gagging and noton account of the putrid smell only dives like this can produce.

“Ever seen a gun this big before, doll?” the man with the owl tattoo finally chirps up again as he taunts you with the gun that ruined Roy’s car.

You round on him slowly, putting more distance between yourself and the car, tilting your head ever so slightly as you do. 

Nervous laughter erupts from the group like they can’t tell whether to take you seriously or not. Guess they’ll find out soon enough. 

“I don’t need guns,” is all you respond.

The men around you ‘ooo!’ as they punch each other jokingly and close in on you, but you don’t give them a chance to do much more before you attack.

You start with the men closest to you, crossing your arms to grab them before uncrossing them and sending the men’s heads into each other’s with a loud thump! They crumple to the ground in front of their awe-struck friends. When the remaining men finally look up from the men on the pavement to you, you shrug nonchalantly. You don’t allow them any time to recoup before you rush forward and knock two more to the ground through the sheer force of your body alone.

Without missing a beat, you spin around to roundhouse kick one of the bikers who’d been attempting to tackle you from behind. He stumbles to the ground where you deliver a swift kick to his head, knocking him out instantly. The other two men on the ground, you deliver the same fate as you duck and dodge nearly all the haymakers being sent your way.

Five down, five to go.

Your new focus is on dodging the barrage of bullets that are now being sent your way. You flip onto and over the roof of the car to gain some sort of barrier as you wait out their reload.

They start yelling, whether it’s directed at each other or you, you’re unsure. One sound you are sure of is the sound of an empty round.

When you hear the tell-tale signs of empty clicks, you storm out from behind the car, taking the men by surprise as you send the biker closest to you barreling into the distracted group of reloading men. Everyone, except for your target with the owl tattoo, scatters to the ground like bowling pins.

It’s then that your target takes aim at you. 

You’d been expecting as much and seamlessly do a backflip, then cartwheel into a front flip to avoid his bullets. Once you come upon him, he’s out of bullets once again. You use this as the perfect opportunity to kick the offending weapon out of his beefy hands.

“Who the hell are you?” 

Instead of responding, you sock him in the face with a jab, followed by an uppercut, before spinning around and crouching to duck the fist of one of the remaining men. The fist originally sent your way ends up landing against your target and sends the man with the owl tattoo sprawling backward.

You waste no time in using your crouched position to stick your leg out and trip the man. As soon as gravity takes hold, you pop back up, spinning around to land a sickening punch on his face before he can make contact with the dirty ground. 

You’re panting slightly as you stand.

The three remaining men you’d knocked to the ground mere moments prior were back up and on their feet. It seems they realized guns were futile and resorted to switch blades. 

Pathetic.

Your body moves with practiced ease as you manage to avoid their blade’s short reach. Before they can even realize you’ve retaliated, you grab the underside of two men’s wrists and push them backward with enough force to send them tumbling. If there was any doubt before about you not being physically ready to go out in the field again, you know it’s been sufficiently crushed with how you’re handling the situation at hand. Not that any of these men posed any sort of challenge outside of the sheer number they shared as a group. 

The only standing man growls anomalistically as he snarls down at you, “You dumb fucking bitch.”

“No one’s ever accused me of being dumb,” you respond airily as you bolt to the side to avoid his heavy fists. You block his cross, sending back one of your own and managing to land directly on his dirty cheeks. 

“I’m gonna kill you!” he screams as he interlocks his hands over his head and rushes toward you to bring them down atop your head.

You don’t even try to stop him. No, you just step slightly to the side, leaving him off balance as his hands make contact with nothing.

From the corner of your eyes, you notice the man with the owl tattoo slowly crawling for the door to the bar.

That’s a no-no.

You’re playing too much. You know you need to stop fucking around and put an end to this dumb shit before your only lead can get away.

The determined biker lets out a war cry as he and the remaining two men charge at you. They get a few good hits on you, but ultimately, you knock them each out before bolting over to your escaping target.

His grubby hand is clasped around the door and threatens to open it. He eyes your advancing form with fear and falters slightly as he tries to turn the knob, but you’re on him too fast. Your heel makes contact with the door and its frame, effectively preventing the man from opening the door. His eyes follow up the shiny expanse of your leg, which you use as the perfect opportunity to throw his already weak form off balance. 

“Fuck!” He lands on the ground with a pained curse but you’re not letting him off the hook just yet. You pin him with ease and he soon gives up on struggling and moves into the bartering phase of getting your ass handed to you. “LET ME GO! What do you want?” he asks breathlessly. His bloodied face is evidently panicked as he attempts to look beyond your mask. “You want money? I’ll give you money! Name your price!”

You chuckle lowly, “I don’t want your fucking money. I want answers.”

“Answers,” he nods enthusiastically. “I got those. I got answers, sweetheart. I-“ 

You cut him off with a stark slap across his beaten face. “Let’s get one thing straight,” you growl, “I’m not your sweetheart.” 

“You’re not!” he agrees enthusiastically. “You’re right.” He’s trying way too hard to be agreeable. It’d be funny if you weren’t thrumming with excitement for the information you were about to get. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Promise. Is that an option? Can we do that?” he babbles, practically squealing when you tighten your grip on him. “Please! Anything, just let me go,” he whines pathetically.

You lower yourself in one fell swoop so that your vinyl-covered is against his ear. “Ever heard of The Court of Owls?” 

He stops struggling in an instant, looking around with greater fear than before. Maybe everything Damian had said really was true…

“Are you trying to get us both killed?” The man looks up at you through his wince.

Your eyes narrow, disregarding the warning. 

“What do you know?”

•••

When Red Hood and Arsenal emerge a few minutes later, they find you leaning up against the car with one of your legs posted against it, surrounded by the knocked-out motorcycle gang. 

You notice them falter briefly in their step as they take in the scene

“The fuck happened out here?” Red Hood asks you incredulously. Meanwhile, Arsenal’s busy lamenting the shot-out side window and subsequent bullet holes in the car’s body.

“Someone pissed me off,” you reply simply.

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Hood responds wryly.

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off as the three of you climb back in the car, “what took you guys so long, anyway?”

“We didn’t find The Court of Owl’s dude, but we did find an ex-Cadmus scientist, babe,” Arsenal says.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” The redhead nods, turning around in the passenger seat. His verdant eyes rake up and down your form greedily as he bites lightly at his lower lip without seeming to realize it. “You look good, princess.”

“Code names, Arsenal,” Jason warns, but even you voice your discontent.

“It’s just us in the car,” you come to Roy’s defense. “Should be alright, right?”

“Fine,” Jason gives in with a sigh. With this, he turns off his voice modulator before zipping out of the parking lot and onto the desolate road.

“Cool,” you say, meeting his eyes cheekily in the rearview. 

He rolls his eyes mirthfully before completing your inside joke, “Cool.”

You allow yourself to roll up your mask past your nose, regretting it when you catch a whiff of your b.o. and wince. “Gross,” you wince.

“Yeah, but what caused the grossness was hot, so it all kinda cancels out,” Roy says, tapping at his head. “That’s logic.”

“It’s… definitely something,” you snort when he reaches around his seat to smack you on the thigh.

“You sound just like Jason sometimes. I swear I’m dating two of him.” 

You stick your tongue out in response, but it only causes the redhead to unbuckle and stumble into the backseat to chase after it. You merely bat at Roy, offering him a chaste kiss instead. 

“So, did you guys leave the interrogation to me, or did you actually get any info?”

“You got the info for the court meeting?!” Roy asks, sounding impressed.

You hate how surprised they both seem. Like you’ve somehow been incapable in past interrogations when… oh, yeah, you were the only one getting answers. You don’t know if it’s because you haven’t been sleeping well recently or if you’re just coming down from the adrenaline of the fight, but all you can think about is how their response is straight bullshit.

“The information we came here to get? Yeah,” you reply as you shake your head in frustration. You can’t believe either of them, let alone their lack of faith in your abilities. “You know, I love how I keep having to prove my worth to you guys in the field, and by love, I mean hate,” you finish with a glare. 

Now, you have the information. What you still don’t seem to have is respect from your partners.

“Hey, that’s not what we meant at all.” 

You ignore Jason. “Just because I got hurt doesn’t mean I don’t have what it takes. Like you said,” you turn to Roy beside you, “it could’ve happened to any of us.”

“Baby,” Roy starts to caress your vinyl-clad arm, but you shake him off.

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “No, baby. Not right now.” You sit up straighter in your seat, looking between Jason’s blank stare in the rearview and Roy’s concerned face beside you. “You guys believed in me, even when I didn’t, so why doubt me now? Why continue to make me pay for something caused by random chance when I keep proving-“

“You don’t have shit to prove to us,” Jason cuts you off, cooly.

You huff, crossing your arms and slinking back into your seat.

“What’s this actually about, baby?” Roy questions gently.

You’d been working your ass off to get back in the field, but you can’t deny you’ve been scared. You’ve had brushes with death before, but nothing like that. It was too close and maybe you’re the one doubting yourself. 

They seem to understand, though, at the very least with how supportive they’re being. Well, either that or your words and Connor’s have finally gotten through to them.

You feel Jason’s familiar gaze on you in the mirror but you refuse to meet it. 

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” you finally admit.

Jason’s eyes flicker over to Roy in the rearview, finding his eyes already there to meet him. You follow their nonverbal conversation with your eyes, biting back the eye roll because you do honestly find the way they can communicate like that really cute.

“Like you said, you’re the one who ended up with the info,” Roy says as if it’s obvious. “You haven’t even been in the field for that long and you’ve definitely showed us up time and time again.”

Through the mirror, you watch as Roy’s eyes encourage Jason to say something.

After a beat, Jason clears his throat awkwardly. “You, uh, do really know how to hold your own,” Jason adds gracelessly. Regardless, Roy still nods encouragingly, leaving Jason to blush and turn his focus back toward the road. 

“Whatever you decide to do, baby, we’re here for you but don’t think for a second that you’re not cut out for this shit,” Roy looks at you pointedly, “because you are. You’re a badass, sexy,” his arms trail up the outside of yours, “intelligent, freaky as fuck programming mastermind-“ Roy trails off. “I forgot where I was going with that and now I’m just hard.”

You know he’s just trying to make you laugh, so you allow yourself to give in.

“I love you guys.” 

You’ve never felt so grateful to have the two of them by your side, especially right now, when you’re feeling so unsure of yourself and your abilities.

Pretty soon, you’re pulling up to the manor. As soon as you arrive, two of the tires pop. Alfred immediately gets to work right after he sends the three of you off to change into civies. Meanwhile, Bruce eyes the vehicle, well, what’s left of it, with distaste. He’s wearing his suit, though he removes the cowl when the three of you approach. 

“I have a loaner car for tonight, but feel free to keep it,” Bruce says as he looks over the lemon. “We’re having the luncheon this Sunday, so you can just bring it back then.”

Roy glares. “My girl runs just fine, thank you very much.” He runs his hands protectively over the ruined exterior as if to prove it.

Bruce moves on swiftly after this, obviously not understanding the bond between Roy and his shitty minivan. “So, I take it your interrogation tonight went well?”

“Technically, two interrogations,” Roy corrects.

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “You guys never told me what you figured out.”

“You led your own investigation?” Bruce turns to you, seemingly impressed by the recent revelations.

Jason crosses his arms. “She’s really good at it, as it turns out,” Jason says with a hint of malice. You can’t tell if he’s salty thinking about your intimidation over Deadshot, or if he’s protecting you from Bruce’s comment on account of how you reacted to his and Roy’s comment in the car earlier. “She’s more than capable of holding her own even after everything.”

Okay, definitely the latter. You can’t help but beam at his support, finally feeling like you’re on the same team again.

“What, like it’s hard?” you respond playfully. Bruce easily holds up his hands in faux-surrender, though looks thoroughly impressed. You turn to your partners before asking, “So?”

“Well, we found an ex-scientist from Cadmus in the bar being used as a footrest.” You can’t help but quirk a brow at Roy’s odd recap. “Told us that the Winter Rose Ivy sold carries a symbiotic protein, which she conveniently left out when you were beating her ass.”

Symbiotic?

Could that mean…?

Maybe your hunch over the origin of your visions in the subway tunnels had been right.

“The data I gathered during my own analysis of the stem you brought in from Cadmus seems to support that as well,” Bruce adds.

So, there was no doubt that the Cadmus scientist had been telling the truth.

“So, whatever they’re concocting is both water soluble and symbiotic?” That doesn’t sound good at all.

“Not to mention the stolen microwave emitter,” Roy says grimly. Before you can even ask, he shakes his head, sending his red hair sprawling in front of his eyes, “No, he doesn’t know where the machine is. Says he didn’t have access to that level of information but that another team was running hypotheses on the matter.”

“And you still don’t believe in killing these fuckers, Bruce?” the raven grumbles. Everyone turns to Jason. “Still think everyone deserves a second chance- mercy?” he scoffs. “We’re talking about a large scale attack on, well, who knows what and we’re just supposed to sit here and shove our thumbs up our asses until it comes? Why don’t we prevent-“

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now, Jason,” Bruce says tersely. 

“If not now, when?” Jason’s arms spread out like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “When millions of people are being murdered by The Court, no, by him.”

You gulp.

One look at Roy proves he’s ready to step in at any time should any issues arise, but Bruce is already walking away. He throws you the keys, which you catch easily as he tugs his cowl over his head.

“I refuse to sit here and debate ethics with a man who's killed for pleasure.” It’s cruel- blunt and Bruce’s words do nothing to stop the anger already brewing over in Jason. “I’d hoped being around her morals would’ve smacked some sense into you by now, but it’s clear you’re a lost cause.”

“I’m a lost cause?” Jason tries to act as if he finds the situation funny, but everyone can clearly see the tears pooling behind his emerald eyes.

“Please,” Bruce looks unimpressed, “there’s only so much redemption one man can accomplish before he diminishes it all with repeated, skewed antics.”

Roy steps in before Jason can manage a step forward.

“Yeah? Well, I refuse to sit here and take this hot and cold shit from you. You forgive me one day, are disappointed in me the next. You hold me at arm’s length for cleaning up the streets like you never could over some bullshit antiquated sense of morality. I am necessary evil, sure, but it doesn’t make any of the things you do any less evil either, Bruce.”

It’s not Bruce anymore when he smacks Jason across the face.

The resounding sound, coupled with your gasp, lingers as silence overtakes the room.

Seconds tick by. Maybe minutes, you’re not entirely sure.

Your body thrums with an intensity usually saved for battle. 

Everything’s fucked.

“This is not up for discussion,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Well, it would leave no room if it were anyone but Jason. “You follow my rules or face the consequences.”

Jason laughs darkly, keeping his head turned from the original impact as his shoulders slowly shake before slowly turning to face his father again. “Still the same old Bruce, yeah?” Your eyes are still wide not quite believing what you’ve just witnessed. “Keep your fucking car. I don’t need shit from you. Never have, never will,” Jason spits.

With this, Jason spins on his heel and storms out of the cave. Roy makes to follow him, then stops. He opens his mouth, finger poised at the ready, but the words never come out. Instead, he just shakes his head, red hair flying in front of his face before throwing a dirty glare over his shoulder and following after Jason.

Your feet, however, remain planted.

“I always kind of hoped your ways would rub off on him,” he says with a light sigh. Bruce isn’t even looking at you, he’s just blankly watching after Jason’s retreating form. You don’t say anything, still completely stupefied by everything that transpired. “Just make sure his way doesn’t rub off on you. You’re better than that.”

You don’t recognize the man in front of you. Regardless, he seems similar enough to the descriptions Jason always warned you about and you never believed. You still can’t necessarily bring yourself to believe his words even still. Call it naivety, call it stupidity, call it excusing it all… but you feel frozen. It’s as if two completely different versions of Bruce are trying to combine into one right in front of your very eyes, yet your mind still resists their complete merge.

You’re shaking. Your entire body continues to thrum as if electricity is coursing through your veins as you just stand there. You want to leave, you want to comfort your love, you want to ask your dad why he- just why, but you just stand there. 

“If you’ve forgiven him once, surely you’ll forgive him again,” you say, but in a way, you’re asking. You need to know if he’d be able to drop you so easily for not following his code perfectly. You need to know if your place in the family is a conditional circumstance. 

You don’t want to know, but you need to. 

Would he really be able to keep you at arm’s length and all the other like he did Jason? 

“Forgiveness, when asked upon so many times, isn’t asking for forgiveness- it’s asking for acceptance,” he says lowly. “I refuse to give that to him.”

His cruel words finally spur life back into you.

You have your answer whether you like it or not.

Regardless of how Bruce would treat you, you know how Jason treats you. Even all those years ago when he disappeared, he was still there for you, still protecting you. You want to do right by Bruce, but you need to do right by Jason.

Bruce seems to think you’re leaving and makes to walk away but you stop him with a firm grip on his forearm. He looks down at the contact briefly, quizzically meeting your eyes. 

“So, per your words, Jason’s accepting this disgusting behavior from you? Because I can’t count how many times he’s told me he’s forgiven you, Bruce,” you say. The words are coming out of your mouth before you even realize it. “If you ever touch him like that again, especially in front of me, it won’t be his forgiveness you’ll be begging for.”

You place the Rolls Royce keys into the open palm of his gauntlet and pick up the minivan keys instead. 

Alfred’s already replaced both tires at this point and that’s good enough for you. You quickly help him remove the tire jack before peeling out of the manor garage, heart pounding intensely all the while.

When you pull around, Jason’s nearing the end of the manor driveway with Roy following closely behind. You can hear their loud voices as they traverse the infamous Wayne gravel that you yourself have stormed down, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. Roy looks pissed, Jason looks like he’s disassociating. 

Roy shoots you a grateful look when he notices you. Probably because he would’ve had to sneak back in for his metal baby later had you not pulled up in it.

What do you even say to Jason? “Sorry that the man I look up to…” No. 

You can’t.

You view Bruce in a different light after tonight- Jason as well. It makes your stomach churn uncomfortably. 

Logically, you know everything will go back to normal, that you’ll show up to the luncheon and Jason will avoid his father just as much as Bruce avoids him. You know that a month from now, Bruce will make a half-assed apology that devolves into him lecturing Jason over the same things and Jason will sit there and take it because, at the end of the day, he loves and looks up to that man as much as you do. Though Jason will never admit it, his actions leak it.

“I’m sorry. I understand what you mean now.” You go to say more, but he cuts you off.

“Enough,” Jason barks, leaving your mouth to click shut in an instant. Roy sits in the back, wanting to touch Jason, but he shrugs off his touch every time. He slinks down slowly in his seat, crossing his arms menacingly as he does. “Someone change the subject before I talk myself into going back there and starting an all-out war with the cunt,” he growls.

Change of subject? You can do that. You’ve had something on your mind for a while and, you can’t deny that you also want to get the slap out of your head. Regardless of your parent's carelessness surrounding you growing up, neither cared enough about you to ever lay a hand on you. Today honestly shook you to your core.

“I think that the symbiotic nature of the serum explains why I’ve been seeing all these visions,” you hesitate slightly before continuing. “It could also be the reason why I’ve been feeling so sick recently.”

“You’ve been feeling sick?” Roy questions slowly, almost cautiously. You already know he’s thinking back to the first pregnancy scare. Well, it’s about as good a time as any to tell them about the second scare, especially now that you think you know what caused it.

“When we were in those test tubes, I woke up. I heard what the scientists were saying.” Your face scrunches up as you try to remember as much of their conversation as you can. You sigh, “That there were two subjects in my tube.” You glance quickly in the rearview to see their shocked faces. “Obviously I thought, you know,” you trail off uncomfortably. “I took a pregnancy test, though. It came back negative, which just further proves I’ve already received a dose of their new serum or, at the very least, some sort of variation of it. If it causes me to see Joker’s thoughts, imagine what that could do on a wide-scale attack.”

Just like you thought, they both freeze up before acting way too nonchalant. 

“Oh.”

You can hardly keep yourself from rolling your eyes. “Guys, that’s not the point,” you huff. “I think it all has to do with the new serum. It’s possible that, at the dockyard last year, Poison Ivy had already sold them a stem and I was the lab rat, just like Two Face said my contract stated.”

“You’re saying you think your contract is back on?” Jason asks dubiously. You’re glad, at the very least, that he seems to be more present again.

You sigh, “I’m saying, I don’t think it ever ended.”

Having to deal with psychopathic killers hunting you down for a large insurance scheme was hard enough when it was just Joker, Two Face and your parents. Now Cadmus and, seemingly, The Court of Owls, along with Joker and his new lackey, was something entirely different.

How are you going to survive this again?

“They’re coming to collect what they never got, then,” Roy surmises. “It’s actually starting to somehow make sense. If they tested out the new serum on you at the dockyards, that would explain why I never felt strong effects like you did after being in the tube. Do you think it has to do with multiple doses?” Roy asks.

“That could explain why the effects of the injection at Cadmus seemed to strengthen my visions,” you say with a shake of your head as you pull into the apartment garage. “Whatever this concoction is, it’s extremely dangerous. Especially in their hands.”

“It’s him,” Jason says with disgust. “He wants control.”

“Or to drive people mad,” Roy supplies as he helps Jason out of the car. Jason surprisingly lets him and you lightly jog to catch up to their longer gait.  

Whether or not Roy was calling you crazy, you didn’t know. What you did know, however, was that you can’t deny how heavily these visions have weighed on your psyche.

“Well, if you both fully believe me now, then maybe it’s time we test my visions again,” you say. “We need to go back and collect a sample of the subway water. Maybe we’ll be able to find Joker’s accomplice, too.”

Anything to get the upper hand… You definitely don’t need a repeat of last time happening. Not when the enemies are this powerful and the stakes even higher.

You refuse to lose it all. 

You refuse to go down without a fight.

A/N: ik I said i'd upload this friday, but i had a really good day and wanted to share this early :D i'm thinking of changing my upload dates to mon/tues EST as a heads up too btw

be sure to check out my fic update for more info on what you can expect for this month :p

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[inkyquince]

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Degrees of Lewdity

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Commissions

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Commission Letters

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Harper creeping on Hermaphrodite Reader

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He Doesn’t Count, He’s a Bodyguard (Chrom and Lon'qu- Fire Emblem)

Potion Permit

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Inky's OC's

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His Favourite Pet (Zacarie De Fay- VtM OC)

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Romancing a Tremere (Lucrece- VtM OC)

You and Me and The Nos (Lachlan Reddick and Islan McLean- VtM OCs)

Marking the Master (Seir- Inky OC)

[ellekhen]

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 46 - The Voice in Your Ear

Chapter Summary: Church joins in on the Harpers’ ambush of the Absolutist convoy in hopes of retrieving their moonlantern. Much to the alarm of his companions, the warlock faces the unexpectedly brutal consequences of returning to the shadows.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 229K+ words; Chapters 46/70

Except Below:

Wyll watches in amazement as the drider stumbles in his step, faltering at the sight of the tiefling before him.

This is more than fey charm, he realizes.

More than even their illithid authority.

“What is it, Majesty?” the drider mutters fearfully to himself. “This heretic… no… an imposter! Feeding the lesser god’s shadows! No — no! My Queen, please—!”

“Queen?”

The tiefling tilts his head, advancing towards the terrified drider. He leaves a trail of black smoke in his wake, puffing into the air as he speaks.

“I answer to no queen. No god.”

The drider slips upon the rocks, collapsing backwards with a pathetic wail. And then, with yet another burst of inky mist, Church reappears just in front of the cowering drider — yanking his torso down and gripping his inky-black hands around his captive’s pale, anguished face.

“N-no! No!” the drider howls, his head shaking and eyes blinking frantically, asynchronously, between the warlock’s hands. “We cannot! We won’t feed the shadows! Majesty! Hear us! No! NO—!”

“She can’t hear you,” Church taunts him, smoke spitting from between his smiling lips. “And you’ll never hear her again.”

The tiefling takes his shadow-swathed hand and considers it curiously. It’s a bizarre contrast to the harried skirmish going on in the background with the two remaining cultists.

“See?” Church says softly. Mockingly. “She forsakes you. Just as Lolth had forsaken you.”

“Ah, Church—?” Wyll asks tentatively, half-heartedly reaching out as if he could somehow stop this.

Stop him.

But all he can do is gawk in shock as the tiefling slowly drives his blackened, taloned fingers into five of the screaming drider’s eyes. And with whatever unspeakable spell Church has cast, shadows begin to overflow from within him, spilling from the drider’s orifices and splitting open his thorax.

“Hells!” Wyll gasps, his mage hand fizzling out of existence as it deposits the moonlantern near a few Harpers. His eyes are fixed instead upon the confrontation before him.

The unfortunate drider’s eight legs spasm frantically beneath him, tripping one of the half-orcs backwards just before Branthos drives his sword down to finish him off. Wyll watches in horror as the wretched soul writhes and gurgles in agony for far too long.

This… this is wrong. This isn’t like Church. He wouldn’t…

…would he?

Wyll focuses upon his parasite, wincing at the storm of anguished, half-formed thoughts bleeding from the drider’s fractured mind. Among them, he barely makes out his companions’ own tadpoles, and even fainter still is the suggestion of Church’s somewhere buried beneath the din.

“That’s enough, Church!” Wyll beseeches him. “Just end this!”

He doesn’t know if his friend hears him. With the rest of the convoy finally dispatched, all he hears are the Harpers’ curious murmurs and the drider’s final, gurgling plea.

“Ma…jesty… pl…ease…!”

He shudders with a last death rattle before his legs curl up completely beneath him.

And then the drider is finally, mercifully still at last.

Wyll stares at the other warlock, aghast.

“Good gods,” Astarion drawls, astonished yet clearly impressed. “Well that was… certainly something.”

“Church!” Wyll calls sharply to their friend, hurrying over to pull the tiefling off of the dead drider. The cursed drow’s heavy, monstrous body collapses unceremoniously to the ground. “It’s over. We’re done here!”

“You just always have to spoil the fun,” Astarion grumbles as the tiefling’s eyes clear at last.

“...oh,” Church utters, disoriented as he stares back at the other warlock’s worried face. “…Wyll?”

He looks down at his hands in disgust. “What… in the hells?”

— and then his eyes slide over to the corpse of the drider before him.

Start from the beginning!

[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 7 - Take My Breath

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: Harper and Drake arrive back at Harper's apartment... where more than one surprise awaits Drake.

Word Count: 5,800

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, angst, Drake massively overthinking, lemons(?))

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Sorry this took so long to get out! Real life has been unexpected busy (even though I'd been hoping it would calm down lol) and this chapter ended up being quite a beast to wrangle into shape (I think I rewrote most parts of it like 6 times... 😅). But hopefully the contents will make up for the wait!

A/N2: I am participating in @fictober-event's Fictober 2022 event, and I (belatedly) used the Day 21 prompt: "I never said that" (which appears in bold within the text).

A/N3: I tagged this installment on the basis of my updated Tag List (which I will be posting tomorrow). If you were not tagged, and would like to be, let me know!

Chapter 7 - Take My Breath

"My... my jacket?" I blabber stupidly, hand frozen half-way to my ear like a moron... which, at this moment, I completely am.

Because my mind’s spinning from the bombshell invitation that she just dropped on me...

...and the potential implications.

"Yeah," she confirms with infinite patience. "The one you lent me last night."

"I wasn't expecting it back," I mutter while desperately searching her face, her eyes, her body language for any kind of clue as to what her true motivations actually are.

Because if she means what I think she means then—

"I know," she shrugs. "But it's yours. So, it's not right for me to keep it. Especially since you're leaving tomorrow."

I kick myself as she turns away to pad back towards the main road.

I'm such an idiot...

Her words confirm that which I should've known all along — that the invitation is completely platonic. And that it’s my own dumbass fault for trying to read something into the situation that isn’t even on the table.

At least not anymore.

Because whatever mood we managed to spark tonight got left in that damn elevator when I high-tailed us outta there.

And now it’s too late to get it back.

Because I ended up hurting her.

And despite the fact that she forgave me for the incident, there’s no way she'll want to take things further.

Not tonight, anyway...

...even though tonight’s all we have left.

I raise my gaze beseechingly to the heavens.

Why didn't I just go for Korean BBQ last night...? Then I never would've met her, she never would've gotten fired, and I wouldn't be feeling like—

"NYC Yellow Cab Company. Where are you going this evening?"

The sound of the operator's voice jars me from my thoughts. "Yeah. Um... I'd like to order a cab to..."

I trail off, realising that I actually have no idea where we are.

I cast my eyes around, trying to find a street sign, or an obvious landmark. But apart from the inky waters of the Hudson behind me and the yellow glow of the streetlamps along the sidewalk, I see nothing.

"Err... hold on a sec, will—"

The sharp sound of a whistle rends the air.

Throwing my head around, I spot Gale leaning out into the road with her arm in the air.

"...actually, never mind," I say, hanging up as a cab pulls up obediently next to us.

"One New York taxi," declares Gale triumphantly as she steps in front of me to yank the passenger door open.

Dropping my phone back in my pocket, I throw her a sidelong glance. "Thought you said cabs are a waste of time and money."

She shrugs back at me. "They are. But you were going to call one anyway, so I thought I'd save you the trouble... and the overpriced roaming bill."

I shake my head wryly. "And here I thought I was doin' you a favour."

"Who says the favour can't go both ways, cowboy?" she counters with a wink before climbing into the cab.

I stare at her ass painedly.

Now, why did she have to go and say something like that...?

Because despite the fact that she made it clear literally a minute ago that I shouldn't expect anything when we get back to hers, that one comment has kicked my dirty, sex-deprived imagination into overdrive again...

...and now all I can think about is eating her out while she goes down on me, 69-style.

"You coming, or what, pal?"

The driver's voice snaps me from my thoughts.

Swallowing a groan, I slide into the backseat — careful not to touch her, even accidentally, because then all bets are gonna get blown off — and pull the cab door closed with an agitated bang.

Sweet Jesus, I’m a horny mess...

I can’t seem to get through one conversation with this girl without my mind — and my dick — going wild with everything I want to do to her.

And that isn’t like me.

Sure. I've been turned on by girls before. Even been handcuffed, made to wait for gratification until I was literally sweating with need.

But never like this — outside of the bedroom, where the proverbial screw just kept getting pulled tighter and tighter without any assurance of release.

No. This is completely uncharted territory for me.

Because any other girl, any other situation, I'd've closed the deal by now. And moved on.

So, maybe that’s the problem — the fact that every time I seem to be getting somewhere, I end up getting cock-blocked with a meticulous precision that seems nothing short of premeditated.

By her asshole boss. By her infatuated coworker. By the cabbie. By Leo. By the pricks at the club.

Not to mention by myself. Because I keep saying and doing the wrong things. So, that fact that she’s still talking to me is basically a miracle.

And even though I somehow managed to salvage each and every fuck up — just — it hasn’t been enough.

Because I’m still sitting on square one.

But I've run outta time.

And that grates me no end.

Especially considering how narrowly I missed the end zone.

My head drops back against the head rest.

Christ, I need to fuck...

The adrenaline, the cortisol — not to mention the testosterone spliced with all the pent-up thirst — is still roiling through my veins, setting my teeth on edge, begging for release.

And while I completely respect Gale's decision to not want to take things further after everything she's been through tonight, I know I'll never be able to catch anything even remotely resembling sleep until I've blown off some steam.

And if it isn’t gonna happen with Gale — even though I want it to, desperately — I need to cut my losses and come up with a Plan B...

...though the idea of going back out again, to a noisy bar or club to scour the crowd for a potential hook-up is not appetising in the slightest. Especially since there’s no guarantee of a decent score.

Might just need to bite the bullet and steal a page out of Tariq's pathetic playbook by calling up a damned hooker.

I clench my eyes shut.

Sweet Jesus, I really must be desperate.

But as tantalising as the idea may seem at first blush, the thought of actually having sex with someone who is only in it for the money turns me off faster than flipping a kill switch.

I heave a resigned sigh.

Jacking off under a cold shower it is... Christ, this night can’t get any worse...

I feel the taxi slow.

Glancing out the window, I see that we've arrived on a residential street comprised of tightly packed multistorey brownstones.

"That'll be $24.56," declares the driver, putting the car into park.

"Thanks," acknowledges Gale, reaching for her clutch.

But I've already pulled my wallet out. "Keep the change," I tell him, handing over a ten and a twenty.

Gale's head snaps up. "Hey!"

"You want a receipt?" asks the cabbie, palming the money.

"Nope," I tell him, already halfway out the car.

The sooner we get this done, and the sooner I get gone, the better.

Flicking the door closed behind me, I walk quickly 'round to the other side of the cab to help Gale out.

Because even though I may not be getting laid tonight, I’m not gonna be an asshole about it. My parents had raised me better than that.

Gale greets me with a terse glare from the backseat. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I raise a brow. "Opening the door for you?"

"We agreed to share the fare!"

I heave a breath. Christ, not again... "No. We didn't."

"Yes. We did," she insists sternly, gathering her things. "Because I said—"

"I know what you said," I reply calmly, pulling the door wider. "But we never agreed."

Her mouth drops open in surprise. "But—"

"In fact," I continue, holding out a hand to help her out of the cab, "I specifically disagreed with your proposition. Because it's not right for you to fork out cash you don't have on a cab that you only need because of me."

"I have $12!" she hits back, ignoring my offer of assistance even as she struggles to climb out of the backseat with shoes, bag, and jacket in hand.

"No. You don't."

She freezes, half-in, half-out of the cab, staring at me in disbelief.

I meet her eye pointedly. "You lost your job, remember?"

"Yeah, but—"

"So, my point stands," I conclude, reaching out to steady her as she pushes herself up to stand. "You don't have $12 to spend on a cab. And since that's my fault, it's only right that I foot the fare."

She lets out a low breath. "Drake, you don't need t—"

"I do," I insist, shutting the cab door behind her. "Especially since I never finished apologising back at the club."

She flicks her gaze up with a coy smile. "We did get very rudely interrupted, didn't we?"

"Very," I agree, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face as the car pulls away. "So, it's only right that I make it up to you some other way."

Dammit, why can’t I keep my hands off her...?

Something flutters in her expression. "And that's very sweet of you. But I can't keep taking your money."

"Pretty sure it’s the cabbie who took my money..." I murmur softly.

She swings her Jimmy Choos at me. "You know what I mean!"

"Harper," I say firmly, letting the shoes ping harmlessly off my arm. "It's fine. Honestly. I'm not gonna begrudge twenty bucks — or even ten times that — if it helps you get home safe. After the way I gatecrashed your life, it's the least I can do."

She opens her mouth to protest.

I meet her gaze calmly, but steadfastly.

Her shoulders drop. "Okay, fine. But just so we're clear, this is the last time I'm letting you do this."

"Spend my own money?" I ask, quirking a brow.

"Blame yourself for what happened."

Her words pull me up short. "But—"

"You didn't gatecrash my life. If anything, you kinda did me a favour because I actually hated working at that bar," she admits. "The place was a dive, the hours were erratic, and Jovan was—"

"—a right piece of shit," I offer.

"I was going to say 'moody bastard', but sure," she grins. "The only reason I stuck it out for as long as I did was because the tips were relatively good and I was able to hit my monthly savings goal after I'd paid—"

"Savings goal?" I cut in. "What were you—?"

A blush colours her face. "It... It doesn't matter. Point is, I can get another job. And until I do, I have enough to cover the rent. So, it's not like you've ruined my life, or plunged me into debt, or homelessness..."

"Yeah, but—"

She lays a finger against my lips, silencing me. "I said it's fine... Really. You don't owe me anything, Drake. You never did."

I struggle for breath. "Har—"

"But I do owe you your jacket back," she reminds me, giving my nose a tap with her finger. "And you probably want to get back to your bachelor party. So, up and at 'em, cowboy."

The breath I didn't realise I’m holding explodes out of me as she turns away.

Fuck.

This girl really is try'na kill me.

Every time she gets up in my space like that, touches me like that, calls me cowboy like that, she pushes my self-control — and my sanity — right to the limit.

And at this rate, what little rein I have left on my composure is going to snap, and she’s gonna find herself on the receiving end of a very different kind of 'up and at 'em'... the kind where she’s up against the wall and I’m up and inside her.

I force myself to take a steadying breath as I follow after her.

Keep it together, Walker. As she made it clear — again — that's not the reason you're here. And unless she changes her mind, you can't overstep the mark.

She leads me to the squatter of two buildings on the block. Stopping in front of a narrow door that’s tucked next to the shuttered store front of a second-hand bookshop that occupies the ground floor, she reaches for the numerical access panel and taps the six digit code in.

The lock clicks back and I reach forward to push the door open.

"Thanks," she says with a smile, stepping through the opening.

"Anytime," I murmur, trying — and failing — to not breathe in her honey-camomile scent as she slides past me.

Dammit, why does she have to smell so good...?

"Hope you like cardio..."

I snap my head up just in time to catch the wry glance she throws me over her shoulder.

"...'cause it's a bit of a trek up to the fifth floor."

I let the door bang shut behind me with a sigh.

Yup. She’s definitely try'na kill me.

Because apparently it isn’t enough that I've already had to suffer through a burlesque routine and a sexually charged turn on the dancefloor that had basically been foreplay.

She’s now going to make me stare at her ass while we climb five flights for stairs.

Fuck my fuckin' life...

But, short of walking out on her like a high-strung douchebag, I don’t really have a choice.

Unless...

"Up and at 'em, Gale!" I prompt as I dart past her.

Her mouth drops. "Wha—?"

"Thought you want to be quick about this," I say, pausing on the landing to look back down at her.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want to race you up the stairs!"

I raise a brow. "Who said anything 'bout a race?"

"You did. Just now."

I lean over the banister. "I just offered to up the pace. But if you aren't up for it—"

Her eyes narrow. "I never said that..."

"Then I'll see you at the top," I shrug, resuming my jog up the stairs.

Even if she ends up trailing behind, at least I’ll have had a chance to blow off some much needed steam before we get to her apartment.

"Bet your ass you will, Walker!" she shouts, blowing past me as she takes the steps three at a time.

I snort despite myself, throwing myself into a sprint to catch up to her.

This girl...

She keeps managing to surprise me.

I hadn't intended for this to turn into a head-to-head. But apparently she has a mean competitive streak and can’t resist another chance to try and show me up. Even when she’s barefoot.

I catch up to her on the next level.

"Nice try, Gale," I chuckle, using the handrail to pull myself past her on the corner of the landing. "But you ain't winning this."

"Speak for yourself, Walker!" she cries, grabbing the back of my shirt to use me as a counterweight to propel herself into the lead again.

"You wanna play dirty, huh?" I huff, reaching out to grab her around the waist.

My fingers brush against her bare skin...

...but before I can close the hold, she's twisted away.

"Close, but no cigar!" she taunts with a smug look.

"Closer than you think," I grin, pulling past her through the opening she's unintentionally afforded me.

A shocked gasp rises up from behind me. "You bastard!"

"Don't dish it if you can't take it, girl!" I call as I round the final corner.

Pushing through the burn in my thighs, I bound up the steps, pausing at the top to catch my breath.

Doing that every day'll sure keep you fit! No wonder she has such great legs...

The sound of bare feet slapping against concrete echoes up the stairwell.

Glancing behind me, I spot Gale stomping up the steps with a murderous expression, her arms crossed over her chest.

"The fuck was that, Walker?" she demands angrily as she draws level with me.

"A fair win?"

"How the hell was that fair!"

"Hey," I say, holding my hands up. "I was just playin' by your rules, Gale... So, don't tell me you've got double standards."

"I didn't rip your shirt off!" she protests vehemently, aiming a kick at my shin.

I dodge out of the way...

...and suddenly realise why she’s so pissed when I see that her arms are still wrapped around her chest.

When I'd tried to grab her, my fingers must've accidentally pulled the tie of her shimmery crop top loose at the back. And now she’s desperately trying to keep the flimsy covering from falling off her body completely while holding onto everything else she’s carrying.

An inadvertent snort escapes me at the absurdity of the situation.

"Oh, yeah. Hilarious!" she snips sarcastically, shoving past me. "Jackass..."

Her comment hits me like a kick to the gut. Goddammit...

Of all the ways I've imagined undressing her — and there have been a lot of ways! — this was definitely not been one of them. By mistake... In the most asinine and juvenile way possible.

Because now she’s pissed at me. 

Again.

"Gale, hold up," I plead, stepping after her. "I swear I didn't—"

"Save it, Walker," she snaps, arriving at a nondescript door marked with the number 502 and reaching for her bag without looking at me.

Shit. She really is fit to be tied.

"Look. You're right," I sigh. "It isn't funny. I shouldn't've laughed. It wasn't cool and— You okay?"

"I'm fine," she grits, struggling to open her clutch while keeping her top in some semblance of decency and juggling her shoes and jacket as well.

"You sure...?" I ask, unconvinced. "'Cause you look like y—"

Her hazel-green gaze snaps irately up to mine. "I said I'm—!"

As if on cue, the tenuous hold she has on her bag slips, taking the rest of her precariously balanced stuff with it to the floor in a heap.

She grabs after the lot instinctively...

...only to realise she's let go of her top.

"Shit!" she gasps, grasping the sparkly fabric after a moment of stunned indecision.

I slant her a deadpan look. "You were sayin'?"

"Just... shut up," she groans exasperatedly, managing to save her decency...

...but not quite quick enough.

My eyes widen. "Yes, ma'am," I affirm, quickly bending down to start picking everything up.

She heaves an aggravated breath. "Drake, I don't need—"

"I got it," I assure her, scooping her jacket and shoes before she can get to them. "You... you got more top-level problems to deal with."

I hear her suck in a shocked gasp, followed by the rustling of fabric on skin as she hastens to adjust the wayward scrap of material.

I keep my attention focused on rounding up the various items that have escaped her bag, and not on the dozen different ways I suddenly want to tease the nipple she accidentally flashed me before I remembered to look away.

I clench my eyes shut. Sweet Jesus, how am I gonna—?

I feel her fingers brush against mine. "Thanks..."

My eyes snap open to find her crouched in front of me with a wry, slightly embarrassed look.

"...for the save," she adds, not quite meeting my eye.

"An-anytime," I reply hoarsely, handing the now refilled clutch back to her. "And I'm sorry. About earlier. I hadn't planned on—"

The colour rises up her cheeks as she drops her gaze and takes the bag. "I know. And I'm sorry for flipping out on you. It's just... my brother Tyler used to pull stunts like that when we were younger and—"

"You still have a bad taste in your mouth about it," I finish for her. "I know."

She lifts her gaze to mine. "Sounds like you speak from experience..."

I nod tightly. "There are things my sister's probably not forgiven me for either."

"The joys of sibling-hood," she observes dryly, straightening back up to return her attention to the door.

"Yeah..." I mumble, feeling that all-too familiar emptiness settle in my gut as the ghost of Savs' face rises through the spectre of my memories.

The rattle of keys jars me from my thoughts.

Looking up, I see that Gale had located her keyring — adorned with a made-in-China, plastic Statue of Liberty — and is in the process of slotting a brass-coloured key into the lock. The tumbler clicks back and the door swings open.

I hang back on the threshold as she steps into the narrow entranceway to flick on the hallway light. The golden glow reveals the outlines of a small, open-plan kitchen-living area within.

"Do you want to—?" she asks, pausing on the threshold to look back at me.

I shake my head. "I'll wait here."

I don’t know that I can trust myself to behave if I follow her inside. And I don’t want to burn what little goodwill I probably have left with her.

She nods quickly. "Okay. Let me just grab your jacket and—"

"Don't forget these," I remind her, holding her own jacket and shoes out to her.

"Oh. Right. Thanks," she blushes again as she takes them. "I...I'll be back in a minute."

"Take your time," I murmur as she disappears into the flat.

On one hand, I’m desperate to get outta here while I still have some semblance of sanity left. But, on the other hand, I know that as soon as I turn away, and she shuts the door, that’s it. She’s out of my life.

For good.

And I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

But short of bringing her back to Cordonia with me, or ditching the return flight — neither of which is an option — I don’t really have a choice.

Because let's face it. I've known the girl less than a day. It’s irrational to want to—

"Sorry, it's a bit rumpled," she apologises as she reappears, blazer in hand, errant crop-top exchanged for a white, 'I ❤️ NY' t-shirt. "It fell off the hanger."

"Don't worry about it."

She holds the jacket out over the threshold. "Thanks again for lending it to me..."

I reach out to take it. "You don't need to thank me, girl..."

Her chest rises. "I do. Because—"

My fingers brush against hers. "I just did what anyone would've done."

Her hazel-green eyes meet mine. "No."

The intensity of her declaration knocks the air from my chest.

"You did the exact opposite of what anyone else would've done," she continues decidedly. "You went out of your way to help a total stranger. Not once, but several times. Without expecting anything in return. So, it's me who owes you, Drake; not the other way around..."

I shake my head. "Harper, you know you don't—"

"...and I've yet to properly thank you."

My head snaps up.

Our eyes lock.

Her mouth parts.

And the world falls away.

I have no idea who moves first. Me or her. Maybe it's mutual...

But the next thing I know, the damned blazer is tossed to the floor and we're at each other's throats, devouring each other like a pair of rabid animals.

Because we both suddenly realise that we've been fuckin' fools for letting ourselves get jackknifed by the very circumstances that keep propelling us together. For keeping our cards close to our chests when we should've been throwing them — and each other — down on the table.

Because we've been too distracted by all the auxiliary bullshit to realise that we've wanted the same thing from the very start.

Each other.

"Fuck, baby," I groan against her mouth. "You don't owe me anything..."

"But I—" She gasps as I grab her by the ass to yank her against me.

"How 'bout we call us even?" I growl, hoisting her up into the air.

A surprised squeak escapes her.

But I don't give her a chance to protest the matter because my mouth is already back on hers, wanting more, taking more, giving her no quarter as I march her back into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind me.

Because now that we've finally stumbled onto the same page, I’m taking control of the narrative. No more pussyfooting around... No more second guessing.

Because we've wasted too much goddamn time already and to say that I need her is an understatement. I yearn for her... Fuckin' burn for her with an intensity that’s borderline obsessive.

So, in what few hours I have left with her, I want one thing, and one thing only. To set her world on fire the same way she torched mine just by stepping into it.

My teeth scrape against hers as I shove my tongue down her throat, giving her a promise of what’s to come.

She moans into my mouth, and I nearly lose it right then and there.

Christ, she tastes good...!

She’s a heady mix of sweet and zest that’s straight up intoxicating. Like summer raspberries and honey wine. And I curse myself for not letting myself kiss her sooner.

The sound of ripping thread rends the air.

My eyes fly open.

"Now we're even," she declares with a smirk, sending the dislocated buttons flying as she throws the top of my shirt open.

I scoff at the irony as I carry her into the small kitchenette. "Thought you wanted to save this shirt."

"That was before you ripped my top," she counters saucily, raking her nails down my chest.

A low groan escapes me as I deposit her onto the countertop. "You're lucky I waited this long, girl. I've been wanting to tear that damn thing off you since the start of the night."

"Got something against my clothes, Walker?" she asks, tugging the shirttails out from the waistband of my pants.

"Yeah," I confirm, reaching for the hem of her t-shirt. "You're still wearing them."

She lifts her arms with a wry look. "That's kind of the point of clothes..."

"Trust me," I counter, pulling the top over her head and tossing it to the side. "You ain't gonna need them. Not for what I've got planned..."

"Oh, yeah?" she purrs, grabbing my belt. "And what's that, cowboy?"

"Knockin' your fuckin' boots off."

She cries out as I dive down to catch her now fully exposed nipple in my mouth, not able to wait a second longer to have her under my tongue.

I've of course gotten a sense of her thanks to that barely there crop top and skin-tight jeans she'd been wearing. So, I know that she’s slim yet toned, tending towards athletic instead of shapely, though still possessing some curvature to her bust and waist.

But clothes — no matter how revealing — are never gonna tell the full story. Which is why I've been dying to see — and feel — her as nature intended. Without any superfluities or accruements in the way.

And sweet Jesus, has it been worth the wait!

Because Gale naked — or as good as — exceeds even my wildest dreams. Her hips curve into the palms of my hands, her skin has that same enthralling scent as her hair, and while her breasts are on the smaller side, they are still perfectly soft and natural, with pert nipples that I already know I can get addicted to after just one taste.

And the way she’s responding to me? Christ, she’s gonna drive me straight to the edge just with the sounds she’s making as my hands coast over her body.

"Drake..." she moans, fingers tangling into my hair, pulling me closer as she wraps her legs around my waist.

I hear myself groan in abandon as she arches up towards me, tits thrusting up into my face, begging for more.

I heed her unspoken plea and switch my attentions to her other breast, sucking hard.

She gasps out loud, thrusting herself against me uninhibitedly. And if my giant hard-on isn’t already ready to bust a motherfuckin' hole through my pants, it sure as hell is about to now.

Because nothing’s hotter than a girl who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.

And damn right I’m gonna give it to her.

My hands drop to the front of her jeans.

"Someone's... impatient," she gasps as I slide my tongue up her neck.

"Girl, you have no idea," I breathe, making quick work of the top button and fly. "You've been driving me to the edge of reason the whole night."

"Really?" she purrs. "I wouldn't have guessed..."

I lift my gaze sardonically as I secure a hold on the waistband of the denim. "Why d'you think I was downing shots like those things had an expiration date?"

"Performance anxiety?" she asks with a sly grin, raising her hips off the counter in anticipation.

"Never," I assure her, wrenching her jeans down.

"Drake!" she cries out in surprise.

I look up from between her legs. "You okay?"

She nods shakily. "Yeah. I... I just didn't expect you to do that..."

I quirk a brow as I manoeuvre the denim off her ankles, careful to avoid the blisters. "Undress you?"

She scoffs breathlessly. "Rip my jeans off."

I slant her a glance as I trail my hands back up the inside of her thighs. "You and I have very different definitions of 'rip', girl."

"Oh, yeah?" she pants, struggling with the remaining buttons of my shirt as my fingers skirt upwards, brushing over the lace of her thong to round her hips. "What's your definition?"

I hook my fingers into the elastic of her underwear. "The literal one."

I tear the flimsy scrap of lace off her in one forceful motion.

She jolts as she finds herself suddenly exposed before me. "I should've guessed..."

I meet her eye. "Tell me it didn't turn you on..."

She sucks in a shuddering breath as I drop to my knees in front of her. "Guess you're about to find out..."

"Damn fuckin' right," I confirm, wrenching her knees apart.

An impassioned cry is torn from her lips as my mouth collides with the slickness of her arousal. Her earthy sweetness engulfs my senses and I inhale deeply, losing myself in her sultry heat as I rake my tongue hungrily over her already throbbing clit.

Her body tips back in ecstasy, but I throw a hand out over her ass, keeping her lower half pinned in place so I can chart every inch of her.

She moans loudly, spreading her legs wider, pulling at my hair to try and guide me where she needs me most as she arcs up into my face.

My eyes shudder closed. Oh, sweet Jesus...!

If this isn’t the gateway to Heaven, I have no idea what is. Because very few things in life can top the addictive interplay between trust, submission, and eroticism that comes from pleasuring someone with your mouth until they fall apart in front of you.

And the feeling of finally being able to experience it with Gale...? Shit, it’s better than gettin' higher than a fucking kite.

Opening my eyes, I glance up at her.

She is panting above me, eyes closed, lips parted and head thrown back, raw bliss written all over her face as my mouth and tongue tug her inexorably towards complete implosion, her fingers fisted almost painfully into my hair.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

And I can see she’s close. So, I double down on my efforts with a low growl, tracing my tongue around her heated clit in ever-tightening circles as she starts to crest, moaning my name like a benediction.

"Oh, my God! Drake...!"

I feel the vibrations start before the inevitable noise...

...and my heart drops to the floor.

"Fuck..." I groan as the opening rift of Kenny Loggin's Danger Zone shatters the mood of the room.

Of all the million and one moments tonight, this is the one that gets fuckin' interrupted?

The sweet baby Jesus sure has a fucked up sense of humour...

Because this ringtone means one thing and one thing only — my night’s about to go to complete and utter shit.

But as much as I want to ignore the incoming call, I know I can’t.

I drop my head in defeat. "I'm sorry, baby... I... I gotta take this."

She whines in protest, reaching desperately for me as I pull away, as nettled by the sudden halt to the proceedings as I am... If not more so, considering that I’m leaving her in the lurch at the worst possible moment.

Like a fuckin' ass...

But unfortunately for both of us, the situation can’t be helped. Because there are some things in life that are more important than getting off.

Like the safety of a high-status foreign national...

...who also happens to be my best friend.

Wiping my face with the back of my hand, I reach resignedly for my phone, knowing that I’m not gonna like what I’m about to hear.

"Wh-who is it...?" stammers Gale hoarsely, face still flushed from the intensity of our disrupted foreplay.

"Bad news..." I mutter, answering the call without looking at the caller ID.

Because I already know who’s calling.

"Oui?" I ask, switching to French on autopilot.

Gale's eyes widen.

But I don't have time to mitigate her surprise, or provide an explanation, because Schweitzer is already barking down the phone at me.

"Vous voyez l'appât?" he demands without preamble.

I steel myself. "Non. Je—"

A low growl of frustration. "Putain de merde..."

"Attendez," I interject, forcing myself to stay calm, even though my gut’s already twisted itself tighter than barbed wire. "Que s'est-il passé?"

"Nous ne savons pas," he grits. "Une minute, nous avions une ligne de visée sur lui, mais la suivante, il a plus simplament disparu."

I frown. "Comment ça, 'disparu'?"

"Comme une fantôme!" Schweitzer — now bereft of all semblance of calm — shouts down the line.

"Non, non," I interject with a shake of my head, the rapidly building stress causing me to start pacing around the small flat. "C'est impossible. Même si nous ne pouvons pas le voir, nous pouvons toujours—"

"Nous avons perdu son signal!"

His words — and the blood-curdling implications — slam into me with all the force of a .50 cal round.

"FUCK!"

The story continues in Chapter 8 — Minutes to Midnight

A/N1: So, in the context of researching certain details for this chapter, I discovered that — in contrast to e.g. the whole of Europe — it is pretty much impossible to call a cab in New York using your phone, because there is no official NYC cab company phone number (or if there is, it's guarded with a CIA-level of secrecy 😅). Instead, if you need a cab, you go out onto the street and hail one (like Harper does). However, by the time I found this out, I'd already written the corresponding scene of Drake calling a cab on his phone both on this chapter (and in Chapter 2), so I decided to leave it in, because it helps with pacing, etc. Consequently, I instead offer my belated apologies to any New Yorkers reading this! 

A/N2: As always, translations for the French:

Drake: Yes?

Schweitzer: Do you have eyes on the asset?

Drake: No, I—

Schweitzer: Fucking hell... (lit. trans. of 'putain de merde' is 'shitty whore' but connotatively it's used the same way as the way I've translated above)

Drake: Wait. What happened?

Schweitzer: We don't know. One minute, we had eyes on him, and the next, he just fucking* disappeared.

Drake: What do you mean, 'disappeared'?

Schweitzer: [I mean] like a fucking* ghost!

Drake: No... That's impossible. Even if we don't have a line of sight on him we can still— (I know I wrote 'no' twice in the French; it's a common form of emphasis)

Schweitzer: We lost his fucking* signal!

* So, as far as I've been able to determine, French doesn't have a term that can be inserted into a sentence to emphasise frustration/disbelief/anger the same way that English speakers use 'fuck' — this is achieved more through tone and volume. So the intent of Schweitzer's expression is as I have translated.

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Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits: Stairs - Hell's Kitchen - Kiss - Harper - Taxi - Tease - Drake - Shirt

[snowrassa]

Moon Studies and Star Scratches, No. 6, June - September 2004 Saratoga Springs, New York; Middlesex, Vermont; Johnson, Vermont; Eden Mills, Vermont; Greensboro, North Carolina Sharon Harper (1966) Chromogenic prints, each 127 x 101.6 cm

"A professor of visual arts and environmental studies at Harvard University, Sharon Harper works with photography and video to explore the ways in which technology shapes our perceptual experience of the natural world. In her series Moon Studies and Star Scratches, she makes multiple exposures of the night sky on large format film at different times and locations to bend time and space into ethereal abstractions. In this hallucinatory image, stars appear as streaking lines of light and the moon registers as multiple shining crescents and dots puncturing an expanse of night sky composed of glowing orange and inky purple and black tones. Her photographs make visible a sense of time’s passing, suggesting both singular moments captured by a camera and the unfathomable time of light years." -- Metropolitan Museum of Art

[harleenqzel]

✾-Woo & Naeun,Hux & Georgia, Nolan & Adriana, Jungchi & Doyoung, Wolf & Samara, Harper & Inki, Minho & Haru

Hux & Georgia - My muse in a raunchy outfit

   Hux had been through a lot of jobs in his life, being a waiter one of them, so he was able to carry things on a tray pretty easily. Howver, wearing a skimpy maid outfit and holding a tray with a bottle of lube on it seemed– excessive. He kept puling the dress down, but that really didn’t help, considering it meant his nipples would be exposed. “Georgia, I think these outfits were made more people that don’t have balls.”    

Nolan & Adriana - My muse touching themselves inappropriately

   Most of the time he would just go over to the Lefebvres, or Adri would come to his house, but that didn’t mean they were always together. Which made their sexual life exciting, every now and then indulging in nudes and sex over face time. But it was late, (( or rather early )) and he wasn’t gonna wake her up to ask for nudes, so he had to scroll through his photos for older ones. Despite the fact that he’d seen them before, didn’t change the fact that they were just as sexy now. Settling on one of his favorites, he got up to lock his door, crawling back in bed and sliding his sweats down his hips. 

Jungchi & Doyoung - My muse having phone sex with somebody   

   Considering the fact that before they’d gotten together she was his live in nurse, it was odd to be away from him for prolonged periods of time. Of course, she wasn’t spending too much time away from him, a week at her parents, but given their active sex life, spending a week away from him without sex was certainly difficult. Nothing particularly raunchy had happened that evening, but by the time she’d gotten into bed, she definitely felt lonely without him. She’d shot him a text, and they’d given sexting a go, a few photos being sent to each other, but it hadn’t really helped much. They’d agreed to call, but it had only come out with them feeling awkward. She was having a hard time following the situation, making her pause the motions of her fingers every now and then. “No, wait I thought I was on top?” she whispered, brows furrowing.

Wolf & Samara - My muse in nothing but a towel

   Wolf wasn’t egotistical, per say, but he was aware that he was an attractive man. He took care of himself, his looks. And the women, ( some of the men ) who he taught responded to that. Of course it wasn’t his intention, he was a professional, if anything he tried his best to dissuade them. 

   Samara had started the same as all of them, just a student, but she had a love for the craft, resulting in her becoming his apprentice. That had lead him down a different path than all of his other students, however. Getting to know Sam had caused his professionalism to fall through, knowing he was far more invested in her than he could pass off as a teacher’s curiosity. Of course, the feelings were mutual, which was lucky for him. (( He knew it would’ve been too ironic if he finally fell for a student and they could care less. ))  

Harper & Inki - My muse stripping themselves down

   It could be one of those situations, where had it not been Inki, she would’ve felt uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the case. She was confident in herself, and her body, so giving anyone a show before sex wasn’t something that put her off, however, she could say that because it was Inki, it made the moment feel more sensual– not the same as when she’d stripped for any of  her exes. She looked at him from over the shoulder, sliding the sleeve of her cardigan down her arm, a smile forming on her lips. 

Minho & Haru - My muse wearing bondage gear

   Haru considered herself to be very professional when it came to her job. Which meant her being more comfortable with kinks she didn’t have than she would’ve been had she not been a sugar baby. Having her arms bound behind her back while she was getting fucked wasn’t so bad, not necessarily her favorite thing, but it wasn’t bad. Of course, Minjun falling asleep after that and forgetting to untie her was bad. she could’ve gone to anyone about this after, but she knew Eunmi and Jonas would give Minjun a hard time about passing out right after sex, and the other babies were probably in their own predicaments right now, so, Minho was her best choice to go to for help. (She probably would’ve gone for him anyway). Knocking on his door with her shoulder, she hoped he would answer, especially because she couldn’t really call for him for help with a ballgag in her mouth.

[katfett]

BODY ON FIRE (IVAR X OC) - PART ONE

A/Ns: You have no idea how excited I am to finally have this chapter ready. I’m so keen for this world I’ve shaped.

TAG LIST: @peachyboneless​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @synnersaint​ @heavenly1927​ @zuxiezendler​ @revolution-starter​

SUMMARY: Harper didn’t know what to expect at her meeting, she certainly wasn’t prepared for him. Ivar commanded a room, without needing to say a word. Replacing her boss when he’s sick, Harper didn’t expect to be face to face with a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, the head of the Lothbrok crime family. Walking a tight rope of business and pleasure isn’t exactly Harper’s strong suit.

***

Oleg’s office was a mess; no matter how many times she cleaned it, he managed to destroy all her organisation efforts. It made this morning not only stressful as she had to stare at the damned clutter, but she couldn’t find the paperwork he’d said was on top of his desk. Pursing her lips, Harper declared war on the office. Katia had told her to leave it be, grab what she needed and just let it go. The idea of leaving it so cluttered and chaotic made her skin crawl. It made her job ten times harder if she couldn’t find anything. When he’d called to let them know he wouldn’t be coming in, they’d assumed he was cancelling all his appointments and he did for the most part save for one.

Harper didn’t expect to be told she would be handling the client, but here she was. Looking at the clock, she saw it was nine thirty. She had time to organise some of the office while she tried to find the folder she was looking for.

Katia stuck her head in at one point, telling her she was stepping out to get coffee and would be back later. Harper waved at her in acknowledgement, pulling a face as she dumped a half-eaten apple into the bin by her feet. When she’d moved from Oregon all the way across the country to New York, landing a job with Rus Realty had felt like a dream come true if only for the simple fact Oleg was twenty years strong with his company, he was one of the top Realty companies and he paid them well.

His wife, Katia, had shown her the ropes and for the last few weeks she’d settled in well to the job. If only she could teach Oleg how to damn well keep his space tidy. It was no wonder people rarely came into the offices. They’d been turned off by the mess.

She managed to tidy all the rubbish up, collect all the folders he’d left scattered about and had stacked them on top of the filing cabinet to sort through. She was chewing on the end of her pen as she flipped through the names, dropping them into their spots in the filing cabinet; Ealhmunding, Johnson, Miller, Davis.

“Aha!” she said triumphantly seeing Lothbrok on the last folder. She found the file she was looking for. In her excitement, she dropped her pen and didn’t catch it in time to stop it from rolling and falling down the side of the filing cabinet and the wall. Swearing, she dropped to her knees and reached in, trying to grab it.

She didn’t hear the knock at first; figuring it was Katia letting her know she was back. Muttering under her breath, Harper got her fingers around her pen.

“Would you like a hand?”

Startled, she dropped the blasted thing and spun round to face who had spoken. Leaning in the doorway was a young man. For a moment, Harper could only stare at him. Dark, inky hair was shaved on the sides and pushed back from a handsome face, icy blue eyes were unreadable and were shaped by the most gorgeous eyebrows for a man, but it was his mouth that got her. It curved up a one side into a smirk and it was so full. Jeez, her heart fluttered for a moment in her chest. He was breathtaking. This was Oleg’s eleven o’clock?

He cleared his throat after a moment, and it brought Harper back to the present. She blushed realising that he likely knew she’d been staring at him.

“Would you like a hand?” he repeated, gesturing to where she was on the floor with a nod of his head.

Shaking her head, she realised how rude she must seem. “Ah, no, its fine, thank you though.” She climbed to her feet, slipping her heels back on. She usually darted around the offices barefoot to give her feet a rest.

“Oleg isn’t in?” he asked as he pushed off the doorframe and moved further into the room.

Harper turned back to the filing cabinet and grabbed the file labelled Lothbrok as she answered, “No, he was under the weather today, he asked me to help you finalise the sale.” She turned back to him, he’d come to the opposite side of Oleg’s desk which was mercifully now clear of all its clutter and took a seat in the chair without her prompting him.

The way he folded himself into the chair was graceful. Harper had known men before, and Oleg’s presence could be a little overbearing to deal with, but Ivar Lothbrok was another calibre of man altogether.

“And you are?”

Fuck, Harper realised she hadn’t introduced herself. She reached over the table, holding her hand out. “Harper. Harper Murray.”

He leaned forward and slowly took her hand in his. His grip was so strong and sure, and Harper felt the way her heartbeat quickened as his thumb brushed the back of her hand. Instead of shaking her hand, he pulled her a little further over the desk. Harper eyed him warily, unsure of what to make of him. His lips brushed over her knuckles and for a second, her heart stopped in her chest; the shiver that crept up her spine jolted her back into the moment.

Holy fuck she breathed to herself as her eyes met those ice blue ones from over her knuckles. He still had hold of her hand, and he wore a lopsided smile.

“Ivar Lothbrok,” he murmured to her.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, smiling shakily. “Nice to meet you.”

***

Ivar pulled up outside Rus Realty. He pulled his helmet off and glanced round, smirking at the two women who watched him as he climbed off his motorbike. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take too long, he needed to meet Hvitserk in an hour downtown and he didn’t like being late. He tucked his helmet into his saddlebag and tucked his gloves into the back pocket of his pants. Despite being a tad jet lagged from his flight back last night, he wanted to get this deal closed.

It’d taken him months to find the right place. He’d needed the space. Gutting it, he could focus on making it how he wanted. Today was the first step toward that. Entering the building, Ivar looked around for any sign of Katia or Oleg. The two Russians were good business partners, they projected a good front of the doting happy couple through their ads and mannerisms even though Ivar had seen the way they argued at times.

He could hear shuffling from the office further in, though he couldn’t see anyone. They had remembered he was coming here today, right?

Stepping into the open doorway, Ivar’s eyes scanned the room, and the muttered cursing drew his gaze to the far-right corner. Bent down in front of the filing cabinet was a woman. Though he couldn’t see her face, only her ass. Ivar smirked, leaning against the door frame, and crossing his arms over his chest as he admired the heart shaped firm ass hugged by a tight black pencil skirt. Bare feet were digging into the floor as she tried to get hold of something between the wall and filing cabinet.

“Would you like a hand?”

The woman spun to face him and stared at him; dark honey eyes meeting his. Maybe it was the jet lag, but Ivar was captivated by those eyes, even as they openly roved over him. He let himself take her in now she faced him; dark, thick hair was styled perfectly about her shoulders, framing a haunting pale, freckled face. Her lips were full and pink, not covered by any gloss or lipstick. Her clothing was professional, but he noted the lack of heels.

Had Katia gotten a replacement since he’d last been here? It had been a few months. He cleared his throat, realising they were both staring at one another. He was surprised when her cheeks flushed under his gaze. It made those freckles more evident.

He repeated his question, gesturing towards the cabinet with a nod. She shook her head. “Ah, no, it’s fine, thank you though.” She rose from the ground, and he watched her slip her heels on. It did little to add to her short stature.

“Oleg isn’t in?” He didn’t mind if it meant watching this woman but he had been hoping to see Oleg in person so they could talk about a building he had interest in. Stepping into the room, Ivar moved to sit in the chair by the desk.

“No, he was under the weather today, he asked me to help you finalise the sale.” She was smiling when she turned back to him; it lit up those pretty eyes. Ivar let his gaze sweep back her, curious about her. It was rare to see someone not Russian running around here, and she certainly wasn’t Russian. Her accent was Southern? Maybe? He was curious. It had been a long time since he’d been curious about a woman. Freydis had seen to that. His fingers clenched at the memory of the blonde who’d run like a tornado through his life. He hadn’t though of her in years.

“And you are?”

He watched the way her unguarded panic flickered across her face. He nearly grinned at the way she quickly reached over the table, hand out as she spoke, “Harper. Harper Murray.”

He leaned forward, clasping her fingers in his larger grip. Her fingers were soft and delicate, warm in his hand. Instead of shaking her hand, he let his thumb brush across her knuckles. Her fair skin was so soft. Watching her closely, Ivar pulled her hand closer to him, turning it and leaning in and brushing his lips over her knuckles. Her eyes met his and for a second, all of Ivar’s thoughts fled. Her slightly parted lips; eyes focused on him and hooded. His mouth curved into half a smile.

“Ivar Lothbrok,” he murmured. He watched the way she swallowed before smiling weakly at him.

“Nice to meet you.”

He released her hand then, and leaned back, letting them both breathe.

***

Harper was struggling to make heads and tails of the man before her. He was hard to read, Katia hadn’t told her about him, warned her of how overwhelming that stare could be. Cool, calm, and collected. Managing to compose herself, telling herself she needed to be professional, and get the job done. She cleared her throat and dropped the folder down on the desk and flicking it open. Thankfully, Katia or Oleg had tagged what he would need to sign. Spinning it round, she slid it across the desk toward him, not making direct eye contact; she didn’t need to get distracted by that intense, albeit gorgeous pair of blue eyes.

She collected a pen from the tumbler she’d managed to locate earlier and dump all the roaming pens into. He leaned up, taking it for her with a nod, but their fingers brush and Harper couldn’t stop the small shiver from the touch. She felt stupid; why was she reacting like a damn teenager? She pulled back with a smile.

“Just sign where they’ve flagged if you don’t mind,” she said.

He took the folder from the desk, crossing a leg over the other and relaxing back into the chair. Was he- Was he going to read the whole thing before signing it? Harper didn’t voice it aloud. She sat down in Oleg’s chair and crossed her ankles, leaning against the desk and folding her arms on it.

She was quiet as he read through the paperwork, not disrupting him but she noted he was left-handed; like her. The front door opened outside of the office making Harper jump a little. Katia breezed in, calling out to her.

Harper glanced at Ivar to see him watching her over the folder he was scanning, and she smiled apologetically at the hurricane that was Katia.

“I’ll be one second,” she said, slipping out of the seat and quickly padding out the door. She and Katia nearly collided, her hands came up to steady her co-worker and stop them both from wearing the coffees she’d brought. She had three in her cup tray.

Harper gave her a pointed look and steered her towards their desks, away from the office. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

Katia grinned, simply shoving the cup tray into her hands. “He’s reading through the whole folder, right?” She jerked her head back to the office. “The other one is for him.” What? Harper looked down at the cup tray. Her coffee was the cold one, obviously but the other was a hot drink.

“What?”

Katia was still grinning at her. “It’ll get cold if you stand there too long,” she whispered, nudging her. Harper was so confused. She let Katia turn her back in the direction of Oleg’s office and patted her on the backside. “Go on.”

Harper didn’t know what else to do but what Katia said, even if she was so flummoxed by the other woman’s behaviour. Stepping back into Oleg’s office, she glanced at Ivar who looked up from where he was reading. She took the hot coffee cup out of the tray and held it out to him as she walked by. He took it with a murmur of thanks. Harper couldn’t describe the way she reacted to his voice; it was unnatural. She didn’t react like this to people, to men.

Harper quietly took her seat again and took a sip of her coffee. She didn’t rush him, this was important to Oleg and Katia, she wasn’t going to risk pissing off one of their clients. Besides, it was nice to sit in the quiet and peak at the handsome man across from her every so often.

***

An hour later, Ivar finally shut the folder and clicked the pen shut. Harper nodded as he slid the folder back her way, pen on top. He was rolling the now empty coffee cup around in his hands and Harper was somewhat distracted by it, watching the way his fingers moved. It wasn’t like her to stare at a guy’s hands and think of how hot it would be to have them rolling over her like that coffee cup. Harper had to let out a shaky breath, straightening her blazer as she stood and collected the folder. He remained seated, watching her. It was unnerving to be held under such an intense gaze. She felt exposed and she was in work clothes.

“Everything sounds good?” she asked, clearing her throat as she turned to the filing cabinet. “Katia and I will send you copies of this later today when we scan it into the system, if that’s okay with you?”

Why was she even asking? This is what they usually did.

“Sounds good,” Ivar said, and Harper heard him stand from the chair. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him heading for the door. That ass in those dark jeans. Harper blushed and quickly averted her gaze when he stopped and turned back to her. “Are you free tonight?”

Harper looked up at him, wide-eyed. What? Her eyes landed on Katia behind him, nodded furiously. Harper stammered for a second, trying to process the question. Was he asking her on a date? “Uh, yeah, I am.” Katia cheered mutely behind him and Harper thought the woman was mad.

He nodded; half turned towards her and she felt stupid for being so hesitant to answer. Ivar didn’t move and after a moment, he gave the smallest of smiles. Harper’s knees nearly buckled. Jeez, the boyish smile was disarming. “I’ll meet you at Rapture at eight o’clock. Katia can give you the address. See you then, Miss Murray.”

Rapture? Harper wanted to ask what the dress code was, but Ivar had already turned and left the office, nodding to Katia as he strolled out the front door. She had her mouth open to speak as Katia appeared in the doorway, positively beaming. Harper bit her lip, had she just agreed to a date with Ivar Lothbrok? Had he just called her Miss Murray like a cheeky schoolboy?

Katia swept into the office, and caught her arm, shaking her. “I knew you two would hit it off.”

Harper was still a little stunned that she’d agreed to meet him. “What do I wear?”

Katia’s smile was wicked. “We’ll find you something. Come on.”

Harper protested, only agreeing to go shopping after they’d done what they needed to. What had she gotten herself into? Who was he? She didn’t know anything about him.

***

Ivar ducked Hvitserk’s punch, catching his older brother on the ribs with a left hook. He grunted and withdrew into the far corner. They’d been sparring for the past thirty minutes. Ivar had shown up, gotten changed and climbed into the ring without a word.

“You’re quieter than usual today,” Hvitserk said, panting and rubbing his ribs, rolling his shoulders.

Ivar shrugged, arms up and ready for his brother to advance. “Am I? Or are you just more talkative than usual?” Hvitserk smirked, launching himself at Ivar to throw him off. They collided hard, both grunting under the force and toppled to the mat. Ivar grabbed Hvitserk’s arm and wrapped his legs around his brother’s head then, trapping him.

Hvitserk grunted, kicking, and trying to shove Ivar off him. Ivar grinned as his older brother struggled in his submission hold.

“Tap, or I’ll break it,” Ivar warned, putting pressure on his brother’s arm. Hvitserk growled, still not tapping.

“Don’t you break his arm.” Ivar glanced back over his head to see Ubbe leaning on the ropes, watching them with Sigurd.

He smirked. He could do it, he had before. Sigurd had been on the receiving end of a broken wrist the last time they’d sparred. He refused to get into the ring with Ivar, not trusting his little brother to control himself.

Ivar and Ubbe stared at one another for moment, Ivar having no trouble holding Hvitserk trapped in his hold. “Seriously, let him up.”

After a moment, Ivar finally let Hvitserk go, chuckling as Hvitserk punched his arm in retaliation, before clutching his arm. He rolled onto his belly as Hvitserk sat beside him, pushing himself up onto his knees and staring at Ubbe and Sigurd. “What?”

“You keep disappearing on us,” Ubbe said.

Ivar pulled his mouthguard out as he nudged Hvitserk and the two climbed to their feet. “And? Father disappears all the time when he feels like it. Bjorn is taking care of things. What need does anyone have of me?” Ubbe sighed, scrubbing his face.

Hvitserk tapped Ivar’s arm to get his attention as they stripped off their wraps. “People are beginning to talk. They think Harald is using this to gain support for a takeover.”

Ivar shrugged, frowning. “Let them talk. His words are meaningless without the tools.” The idea that Harald of all people could gain enough support was almost laughable. He was a captain among the ranks, if he wanted to takeover, he’d need to overthrow Ragnar and then all five sons. He didn’t believe for a second that the man had the balls for it, even if his pretty little wife was in his ear telling him it was possible.

Though he knew what they meant. He was pulling away from them all. He was right though, unless they needed information extracted, they had no need of him. He wasn’t Bjorn, and he wasn’t Ubbe. He was a means when needed, nothing more. For years, he’d struggled to deal with the reality of it. Now, he embraced the freedom it afforded him to get away whenever he wanted.

“Ivar,” Ubbe groaned.

He climbed out of the ring, ignoring his brother calling him back. “You know how to reach me, if you need me.”

***

It made sense now, the name that is. Rapture. It was a private club; a BDSM dungeon. She wanted to scoff at the assumption he had made about her, but she was here now. She didn’t have his number to text him with an excuse and flee back into the cab. Katia hadn’t warned her about this. She’d known what Harper was walking into.

The cab pulled away from the curb and Harper didn’t move, staring at the door and bouncer. There was no line for this place, the bouncer was simply watching her as she watched the door. What did she even say to get in? Did Ivar give them her name? Was she really going in?

Glancing down at her clothes, Harper felt like she might have underdressed. Didn’t these places usually have a dress code? The little black dress Katia had helped her pick was simple but nice. Teamed with her dark blue heels it had at first filled her with confidence. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Was Ivar expecting something from her tonight?

“What have I fucking agreed to?” she muttered to herself before adjusting her dress and stepping off the curb and towards the door. The bouncer stopped her, as she expected. He asked for her name and I.D., which Harper gave over with a little hesitation. He nodded after a second before handing it back to her. He tapped on the door and it opened.

Harper glanced at him, a question hanging silently between them. Ivar had given them her name. He gestured for her to step inside. She drew in a shaky breath and stepped through the door. It was dimly light, the man on this side of the door was as tall and wide as the bouncer outside.

She gave him a small smile. “Ah, I’m meeting Ivar,” she said.

He gestured ahead. “Down the hall.”

She headed down it, each step felt like a thundering crack through her. She wasn’t this kind of person, she had never set foot in a BDSM dungeon, the soft heavy beat of music playing through the hallway was comforting oddly enough.

Harper stepped out into the open bar and lounge area. Her eyes took in the room. It wasn’t lit brightly, though she thought it a little stupid if it was. There was a gorgeous bar along the wall, couches and tables scattered about and further across the room was a stage. Two women were on it, dancing and grinding against one another. Harper blushed, quickly turning her gaze off the scene.

Then, she saw him. He was sitting at one of the tables; dressed in a black pants and a black button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. That dark, braid hair of his was pulled back tidily into a man bun. Did he even realise how hot he was? Harper thought. As though he knew she was looking, he turned his attention to her, and Harper felt frozen to the spot. His eyes under this light were dark and they slid over her, not giving anything away. He didn’t move and Harper knew she had to go to him. He wasn’t going to come to her.

She had no idea what was coming her way tonight but maybe she needed to just let it happen, whatever happened, she knew when she’d had enough. Her stomach wasn’t knotted and giddy from worry. No, she was able to recognise the excitement for what it was. She wanted to see what was going to happen.

Harper stepped towards Ivar at that.

[albatmobile]

The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 25

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for Roy and Jason's child.

𓅪 Rated: E | TW: graphic violence, blood | 14k  includes: motorcycle smut, squirting, public sex, boss battle

fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter 25: Born to Die | ao3 - wattpad

It’s pitch black when you slip from the manor and into the quiet of the inky, starless night.

Jason and Roy had long elected to go to sleep in favor of researching and, after hours upon hours of hunting for clues the past couple of days, you nearly joined them.

But even though your body aches with tiredness, you know sleep will only elude you. Especially when you’re this close to the end.

Your parents told you to go to Gotham Bay and, for once in your life, you follow their instructions.

Gotham Bay smells like fish and literal ass as you choke on the thick air surrounding the harbor. Your shoes squelch against the muck that liters the slick pavement, urging you to reconsider your choice, but you refuse. 

Up ahead, you see the final marker and turn the corner. “There you are,” you gasp at the voice, feeling your blood run cold. 

Yes, you’d come here to face the bad guys. That being said, you hadn’t really considered what you’d do when they ultimately came to collect.

“What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jason’s familiar voice berates you from behind. “Walking into a trap like some sort of suicidal maniac doesn’t really seem like your forte, babe.”

You sigh in relief when you turn and see your two dopey white knights.

With the original panic gone, the sadness starts to set in. 

You’re not dumb. You know the end is in sight, but you don’t see a way out of this. At the end of the day, the only way to truly end this is to give your parents what they want by turning yourself in.

“I,” you pout, trailing off when you realize that your reasoning isn’t as sound as you’d previously thought. Especially not now that you’re actually saying it out loud. Nonetheless, you continue. “I don’t want anyone else to have to get hurt because of me.” 

Jason kicks lightly at the ground, seemingly leaving it up to Roy to talk you down.

“Well, too bad,” Roy replies. He easily steers you right back the way you came. You sigh, letting him guide you to Jason’s motorcycle that’s been hidden in a nearby alley. “We definitely would’ve been more than hurt if anything happened to you, princess,” he says as he gently rubs your back. “Lian included.” 

You turn to look at him, but he’s just focused on getting you settled on the bike. He climbs on behind you, nudging Jason to lift you up onto his lap. Jason lifts you with ease as he deposits you onto Roy’s jean-covered lap. 

Your stomach flips.

Jason glances back at you before mounting the bike with your body sliding forward against his broad back once he’s fully seated. You gulp, unable to keep your raging blush at bay as the engine revs to life. 

Jason takes off down the street. His speed leaves you clinging desperately to him and you can’t help but scream as the bike reaches a scary speed that even Dick would have to give him a ticket for, relatives or not.

They both help you slip off the bike and quietly lead you back to Jason’s old room. Halfway up the stairs, you’re met with a sleepy-looking Titus. You give him a good scratch behind the ears as you pass. 

“What were you thinking?” Jason asks angrily as he paces around his old room. “Even if you had just turned yourself in, it wouldn’t have solved anything.” His emerald eyes glare down at you like he can’t believe you would pull something so reckless. “Hell, all it would’ve done is give them the ability to move forward with their plan,” he says, crossing his muscular, scarred arms in subtle irritation. “Are you trying to get yourself killed or something?”

Roy places a gentle hand on his shoulder as he slumps on the edge of his queen-sized mattress beside you.

The last time you’d been in here had been a few months following the Joker accident. You know Jason’s upset with you, Roy too, but you can’t help but look around the room.

Nothing much has changed aside from a few new books on the shelves and new, bigger clothing. The stain on the carpet from Jason’s spilled whiskey is noticeably absent, though, undoubtedly thanks to Alfred.

“What Jason’s trying to ask is, are you feeling alright?” Roy looks genuinely concerned and you don’t want either of them getting the wrong idea.

“I’m not fucking suicidal,” you sigh, shaking your head. “They offered me an out. They said no one had to get hurt.”

“Just you, then,” Jason sounds disgusted. “You’re no fucking martyr,” he hisses your name out like a curse, banging his hand on his desk as he does so. Every object on the wooden surface jumps and scatters as he does so, causing you to inadvertently startle. “You’re…” Jason trails off. “What you mean to us…”

“Yeah?” you ask, suddenly filling with hope. Your eyes widen as you wonder whether or not he’ll actually come out and say it. Hoping he’ll come out and say it.

However, Jason’s eyes flash with remorse. You feel your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach as he makes to leave the room.

You won’t allow it.

“Jason, please,” you beg. He stops, so you continue, “I just thought I was doing what was right after I did you both so wrong.” 

“We already talked it over, remember? We’re all good,” Jason gently chides you, placing steadying hands on your shoulders. “Stop holding that against yourself.” He looks deeply into your eyes to further cement his point. It’s like he’s waiting for a response because once you nod, he releases his firm grip. “It’s just…” Jason trails off unsurely.

“We can't lose you, princess,” Roy starts.

Jason shakes his head, finishing Roy’s statement easily, “Not when we just got you back.”

Back?

You’re the only one who’s been here the whole time, waiting.

“I never left.” 

They gulp, looking at each other before descending upon you with fervor only five years of separation could cause. 

You don’t label it and neither do they. 

You decide to go along with what feels right and, holy fuck, does this feel right.

Standing on the precipice of battle, they hold you together, if only for tonight.

“Princess,” Roy sounds barely restrained as he eyes you up your nearly naked form with barely withheld restraint, “I need you.” It’s rushed as it falls from his mouth.

You aren’t used to being needed and aren’t surprised when a rush of arousal surges all the way down to your clit.

This time, the sex is slow and deliberate as they get to know each and every inch of your body intimately. They make you come undone in ways you never could’ve imagined, trapping you between their muscular bodies as they slowly fuck into your aching cunt. 

After they’re done milking your first orgasm out of you, they both take turns watching as the other one forces another one out of you.

Roy lets you take control, pulling at his red locks and fucking into him ruthlessly amazon-style until he begs for you to allow him to come.

“Please, baby,” Roy whimpers your name soon after as he ruts against your brutal pace. “Please, you gotta let me come. Please,” he says with a shake of his head. His fiery eyebrows are furrowed together like he knows he won’t last another second. 

Cute.

Jason’s grip around his leaking cock tightens. You take the hint as you slow your pace with a cruel smirk.

“No.”

“Fuck!” Roy’s voice cracks in his throat as he arches off the mattress to pound into you, nearly sending you off balance as he does. Jason quickly comes to wrap his calloused fingers around Roy’s thick cock before he can come. 

You bite your bottom lip, loving how Jason’s rough hand brushes against all the right spots. You glance up at his darkening emerald eyes while you grind against the delicious friction it offers.

“You fucking yourself against my hand, babe?” Jason’s voice sinfully coats around your name as he questions you. You absentmindedly draw closer to him in response until your wide eyes are staring down his predatory ones, “Answer me.”

You nod with owlish eyes, feeling the heat of a nasty blush smack across your cheeks. 

“That’s good,” Jason praises you, looking as if he’s ready to devour you right then and there, but instead, he lets Roy have his fun with you. 

He removes his hand, causing Roy to release a shaky groan as he does.

You don’t realize you’re pouting at the loss of contact with Jason’s sexy-ass hand until Roy smacks you on the ass. “Try not to look so disappointed, princess,” he winks up at you, panting slightly as he does. “’Specially not when my dick’s inside you, gorgeous.”

He deliberately places gentle pressure on your pubic bone as he shallowly thrusts inside you. You refuse to settle back onto your knees to give him the angle he’s really craving. 

No, not yet.

You grab a handful of his hair and use your grip to tug his face right in front of yours. His verdant eyes roll back in his head with an obscene moan you’ve ever heard. With how loud it had been, you’re pretty sure it’s the most obscene moan anyone at the manor’s ever heard; no, this entire block’s ever heard.

“Fucking, slut,” Jason grits around his teeth. He mashes against Roy’s chapped lips, tearing into them as you increase your pace again. 

Your hips stutter when his girthy length smashes directly into your g-spot. “Roy!” you salaciously clench down around him, forcing his cock against your inner wall again until you’re seeing stars. You’re babbling now, completely lost in the throws of this overwhelming feeling of arousal. “I need you to come inside me, please, Roy,” you beg him, throwing your head back with a wrecked moan.

Roy babbles back, easily just as clouded in lust as you are, “I wanna give you all my come, baby. So good; you fuck me so fucking good, baby- so good, I wanna- fuck!”

“Oh, damn,” Jason’s voice rumbles against the wet pants and moans that bounce around his childhood bedroom’s walls.

Jason joins the two of you on the small mattress again as Roy’s come leaks out of your sore slit and onto your folds. Jason then positions himself behind your to slurp it up and lap at your over-sensitive clit that jumps every time he plays with it. He spreads your ass as far apart as it’ll go before pressing a bruising grip into your soft globes.

“I’m so fucking spent,” you groan, face-planting into the mattress right next to Roy’s still half-delirious state. “I’m so fucking sore.”

“I’ll tell you when I’m done with you.”

You don’t even have time to settle into the mattress before Jason’s flipping you around again.

Roy seems to brighten up at Jason’s dark tone that drips with sex. He slinks beside you to whisper the dirtiest things into your ear. Meanwhile, Jason smacks his cock against your twitching cunt with a wicked glint flashing across his eyes as he stares down at the two of you.

Roy’s soft, freckled fingers trickle from your lower abdomen to circle around your painfully erect nipples. He briefly squeezes one before enveloping the other with a salacious twist of his tongue. 

They skillfully work in tandem to draw everything they can out of you. All of the moans, all the hushed curses, all the squelching noises from your pussy.

Jason takes in your lucid, fucked-out form with a wolfish grin. 

Roy’s hand lightly caresses your throat, as if testing the waters. When you give no complaint, he slowly strengthens his grip until you’re withering around on the mattress for more. 

“You want me to talk to you like the whore I know you are, baby?” he nods sweetly at you, though you can easily see the lust-ridden heat that lies behind it. “Tell you how Jason should punish you with his huge dick while I spank the rest of the badness out of you?” you gasp. “Would that make you come, baby?”

You’re a wreck. 

All you can manage is a tear-filled nod as Jason continues to tease your entrance. 

You don’t even know if you’ll be able to come any more than you already have, but Jason seems convinced as he draws every breathy whimper, every choked beg out of your body.

“Want me to spread her for you, Jay?” He doesn’t even wait for confirmation, knowing it’s exactly what he wants. 

He situates himself behind you with his sticky, flaccid dick pressed against your lower back as he bares your come-filled hole for Jason to ravage.

You’re so fucked. 

Literally.

You don’t even feel like you’re on the Earthly plane by the time they’re finally finished with you.

•••

The next day, you help Jason and Alfred with breakfast while the rest of the family lingers about in the kitchen and dining room, chatting amicably. 

You’re completely sore after your body had been so wonderfully used last night. You can’t help but walk with a slight limp. Personally, you don’t think it’s noticeable at all, but in a room filled with the world’s greatest detectives, it’s obvious as day. 

They shoot each other knowing glances, but Dick has the gull to openly stare in what you can only discern as disbelief.

Steph and Babs though, they’re content to wear shit-eating grins on their faces any time Jason or Roy so much as look at you.

You don’t realize making pancakes can be so messy until Roy’s smearing batter down your nose. Jason retaliates in your honor, splatting a spoonful into his fiery waves and drawing a disbelieving gasp from Roy.

From here, Dick leaps gracefully over the counter to grab the other bowl of batter straight from Alfred’s gloved hands. He grabs a fist full of the batter and wastes no time in catapulting it directly at Jason’s face. This, coincidentally, also smacks into the side of your cheek and even manages to splash Tim, Connor and Stephanie, who stand just a few beats behind the three of you.

It’s an all-out war with screams and giggles ringing out in the kitchen as the Bat Family attacks their own with any and every food-related item they come into contact with.

“FOOD FIGHT!” Roy screams, holding two cans of whipped cream like they’re automatic rifles as he sprays them across the chaos unfolding in the room. 

Dick and Barbara quickly team up to knock him off the counter while Stephanie attempts to throw strawberries at you through your human shield, Jason.

Bruce and Alfred can’t help but smile. Regardless of the mess, it’s good to see all of you acting like the kids you are. 

Connor somehow nearly breaks the refrigerator by falling into it after slipping on a banana peel that Stephanie had left on the ground thinking no one would fall for it, yet…

The dent he leaves on the stainless steel fridge from his body alone is enough for Bruce to call it all off.

After you all clean up the pancake remains, seriously, how did all the batter end up on the ceiling (???), you pack your things and meet everyone out front. That is, after changing.

You only really have one nice outfit, a skin-tight, thick-cotton, white v-neck and a plaid skirt. You elect to go commando as you skip down the driveway to where everyone’s gathered around, with Stephanie, Tim and Connor still in their pancake-covered PJs.

“And you’re sure it’s all fixed?” you catch the tail-end of Damian’s question to Bruce.

“They had your window fixed two days ago. The caulk needed to be set for a day or so for it to be completely secure again, though.”

Lian gasps when Alfred pulls around in the limo, stepping out to open the trunk for Jason and Roy to load all of your things. “Can I go in the long car?” Lian makes puppy-dog eyes up at her dad. “Can I, please?”

“‘Course, darlin’,” Roy ruffles her inky hair, helping her buckle into the back seat as she excitedly squirms around in the seat. “We’ll be following behind you on daddy’s motorcycle, okay?” she nods and obediently lets Roy finish securing her in her Superman car seat.

Damian and Jon hop in the seat facing opposite hers, still picking pancake batter out of each other’s hair with playful smiles.

Alfred gets in the limo and drives off. Soon after, he shuts the door and bids the rest of the Bat Family goodbye. Meanwhile, the three of you hop onto Jason’s motorcycle and speed off to catch up.

“Just like old times,” Roy winks and you just shake your head as his hands move to caress your thick thighs. It doesn’t take long for him to realize you’re not wearing anything underneath. You’re practically sitting in his lap, so you know he’s noticed when his dick twitches against your bare ass. “And here I was thinking you were still holding out on us, princess,” he mutters against your ear. Roy’s fingers stealthily slip between your slick folds, barely rubbing your clit as he releases a low chuckle, “Fucking whore.”

You arch against him, feeling your adrenaline spike as Jason revs his engine and speeds up on the back streets.

“Please,” you groan, grinding down into the redhead’s erection.

Jason seems to be picking up on what’s going on because he makes a sharp right turn, forcing you to cling tighter around his muscular abdomen.

The vibrations alone last time had been enough to make your eyes cross in pleasure, but this time was different. This time, they were both touching you, tormenting you in the best ways possible.

Roy’s deliberate flicks against your still-aching clit leave your eyes twitching. He holds you steady as your body seizes, preparing for the most insane orgasm of your life- in public, nonetheless.

“You’re gonna come for me and Jay right here.” Your breathing hitches in your throat in response, making it hard to swallow. “All of these people are gonna see what a slut you are, baby.” Roy’s words tickle against the shell of your ear, sounding even above the roar of Jason’s V8. “All for us.”

“Roy,” you warn shakily.

“Scream his name, princess.”

You hastily remove his helmet to reveal the satisfied smirk that lies underneath and he easily does the same for you, wanting to take in all of your little tells.

Your orgasm couldn’t have come at a worse time.

Jason finishes exiting the side street, coming to a stop at a red light when you’re overcome with a familiar, icy pleasure as it blooms across your aching cunt.

“JASON!” At your cry, he revs the engine again, causing you to double forward against him as Roy continues to rub your abused, sensitive nub. 

With your head thrown back against Roy’s shoulder, liquid erupts all across the back of Jason’s leather jacket. All the while, the dude and his friend in the pickup truck beside you stare with their mouths wide open in disbelief. 

Jason whips off his helmet, nodding his head their way as if to say, ‘sup.’ 

You’re panting, pushing Roy’s hand out of your skirt, feeling completely satiated. “What the fuck was that?”

“Pretty sure you just squirted all over our Jay.” 

Squirt?

You shook your head languidly in your after haze. “What, like piss?”

“I’m not 100% sure,” Roy rubs at the outside of your thigh with a smirk, “but even if it is, feel free to do it all over my face sometime, princess.”

“Seconded,” Jason says. 

His slitted eyes trail up your trembling form like he’s considering fucking you right here and now. He feels behind himself, dragging his rough fingers through the wetness you’ve left on his back and the seat. 

He stares at the dripping slick curiously before forcing his fingers down Roy’s willing throat. He swallows your come all while staring at you through his strawberry-lashed, half-lidded eyes.

A deep voice stirs you all from your lust-filled haze.

“I need to get me a motorcycle, bro.”

His friend nods dumbly in agreement.

You all put on your helmets back on just as the light blinks green, speeding off before the men in the pickup can pick their jaws up off the floor. You nearly come again, feeling the flipping feeling tickling stir below, but Roy purposefully keeps his fingers just out of reach for you to get any relief. 

Fucking dick. 

You’ll definitely make him pay later.

•••

Regardless of what happened on the motorcycle hours earlier, they’re gentle with every part of you as you prepare for the final battle.

You’re lying in front of the fireplace of Damian’s living room, with Jason stoking the fire as Roy cleans and redresses your wound.

“’S looking a lot better, princess,” the redhead says, patting lightly at your side as he peppers your face and body with gentle kisses. 

His intimate gestures draw a quiet smile on your face. You’ve never felt so happy in your entire life and, yet, you feel like you can’t even bask in it until you finally come face to face with your parents.

You arch into his hold, snuggling against his chest as his lithe fingers begin to play with your hair.

Gentle music warbles from the gramophone Damian has playing in the kitchen as he and Jon talk in hushed whispers.

Your eyes lazily trail back to meet Roy’s tired eyes. You’re honestly surprised he isn’t trying to take it any further with his lavishing touch, especially after last night. Though, it’s probably for the best, considering the lingering company in the adjacent kitchen. 

Roy slowly blinks back at you, his eyes lightly crinkling as he does, as if he’s the one who can’t believe he has you.

Lian had been put to bed hours before, though it looks like she might be sleeping alone tonight as Jason removes his shirt before cuddling around the two of you with a heavy blanket. Earlier, Roy had brought out a pile of pillows from the bed to prop you up on. Now, you use the pillows to create a sleepy little nest for your fam-… for the three of you.

Laying down with the two of them wrapped up in this fluffy bundle on the floor, they slowly begin to mouth at either side of your neck. You wriggle contentedly between them, returning chaste kisses of your own scattered along their chiseled jawlines. 

The music slowly ebbs as the needle catches. It slowly slips from the disc, leaving you with only the crackling roars of the fire in front of you.

Jason caresses your face before languidly drawing it to his lips for a slow, toe-curling good night kiss that Roy attempts to top as soon as Jason’s lips leave yours. 

You drift off somewhere in between the light tickles of their gentle lips against your warm skin.

•••

The logs on the fire come crashing down as they die out some odd hours later. 

You wipe blearily at your eyes, glancing at the clock in Damian’s kitchen to see that it’s nearly three in the morning.

Jason and Roy still seem to be dead asleep, even as you wriggle out of their overwhelming heat.

The hum of the refrigerator is all that greets you as you pad around the penthouse. You’re looking for something… Something you know was dumped on the living room floor but obviously isn’t there anymore. 

“Oh!” you accidentally exclaim out loud when you find what you’d been looking for a few minutes later in Damian’s office.

You look around the room suspiciously as if booby traps are going to pop out of nowhere and alert everyone to what you’re doing, but it doesn’t happen. You snatch your laptop from atop one of his filing cabinets before scurrying back to the living room. Roy’s curled around Jason’s midsection, with drool leaking onto his abs. You roll your eyes at the sight, opening the corrupted laptop. 

After the last time, there’s now a giant crack stretched across the screen, crackling across the glass like lightning. The display flickers between a blinking blue error, colorful popcorn static and, strangely enough, the password box.

Your fingers hesitate as the password box flickers back onto the screen before typing, "tonight." 

You shut the laptop again, making quick work to remove the hard drive before throwing it into the last raging flame that remained. You silently placed the laptop exactly where it had been before getting dressed for what’s to come.

•••

This time, Gotham Bay isn’t so daunting when you approach.

You know this area has to be under high surveillance for them even to suggest you come back to the same location as the previous night. 

So, here you are. Waiting.

The cold, misty wind bites at your exposed ankles while you peer around for any signs of movement. You’re completely alone with only the squeals of Gotham’s signature cat-sized rats pattering about in the shadows to keep you company. 

Your weather app said it’s supposed to rain at some point and, although the sky is its usual murky fog, the moon still shines brightly. 

After wandering around the lot for a bit, you come to your final location: a dead end of warehouse buildings on one of Gotham’s loading docks.

The hairs on your arms stir awake, prickling your sensitive skin as they become erect. 

The familiar weight of eyes has been on you the entire time, but now it feels entirely different. 

There’s shuffling from behind you, then in front of you. 

Your arms come out to steady yourself as you back into the one area you haven’t heard anything from, but it’s a mistake.

You gasp as cold fingers grip your forearms with a bruising hold.

“I can’t believe the broad actually came here alone!” the Joker’s familiar laugh trembles against your ears in disbelief. “No, seriously.” His face falls into a frightening deadpan glare as he makes his way in front of you. All around him, hundreds of henchmen swarm into the dockyard. “I don’t believe you.”

His wretched voice slithers through your veins, wrapping around your beating heart like an unforgiving cobra. He watches your every minute reaction for any telling signs, but you offer him the truth. After all, it’d be fruitless to lie to him.

“I was just listening to my family,” you say with a shake of your head, wondering if you’ve made a mistake; no, wondering if you’ve misplaced your loyalty. You’ve already made your bed, though, so now you’ll have to lie in it.

The situation becomes all too familiar as Joker’s men swarm in to restrain your squirming form. Beefy arms tug and squeeze at every limb as if they’re trying to rip them off straight out of your sockets. You can’t help the grunts and protests you spout all the while, but Joker remains eerily quiet as he takes in the scene in front of him. 

It’s as if he’s testing that you’re really alone- like he still doesn’t believe you. 

His green hair bobs finally as he surveys the area once more before nodding with an impressed face. “Guess the girl really isn’t too bright,” he snorts cruelly. “Maybe that’s why mommy and daddy want you gone.” His creepy smile catches your breath in your throat. “You truly are just a worthless disappointment now, aren’t you?” he giggles. “An orphan with parents! Who’d’ve thought of that contradiction?”

“I want to believe they’re my actual family,” you say.

“Them?” The Joker actually laughs, no theatrics, just laughs at your stupidity as he hitches a thumb over his shoulder at nothing. “And how does that seem like it’s going?” he asks in amusement and comes around to tickle his fingertips lightly across your cheek. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, but first,” he skips around his henchmen, clapping frantically in their faces all the while, “how about a little family reunion? Let’s give ‘em a hand, folks!” 

His cackles are genuine as your parents emerge from the shadows. Their faces are smug as they take in your overpowered position.

“Mom,” you look at her with pleading eyes, begging her not to do this, “Dad, please.”

They disregard you easily, shaking their heads as they do, “This is how it was always going to end. We’ll get what we’re owed.” Your mother’s wearing a full-length ball gown she undoubtedly stole. Her expensive heels click against the ground as she cooly addresses you, “You won’t ruin this for us. You hear me?” 

She’s using her ‘don’t fuck with me’ tone and you are more than happy to oblige. Though you’re not used to being reprimanded by them, it doesn’t mean it’s never happened. You know exactly what kind of response she’s looking for.

You automatically agree, “Yes.”

You flinch backward into the men when she makes to slap you but stops just before the contact and, instead, caresses your face with her soft touch.

“Good,” she says. You slink back at her familiar hostility and eye her cautiously as she continues to linger. “Do not forget blood is thicker than water.” You could scoff if you weren’t actually so terrified of your mother. Words jam in your throat, suffocating you all the while. “And do not mistake,” she glares at you as she releases your face with a jolt of her hand, “that for the lasting good of our family name, your blood will spill.”

“Mom,” you whisper, eyes staring after her retreating form in hopes that some semblance of sense will befall her, but it’s in vain. “Please, help me,” you beg. “Don’t make me do this, please,” you continue to plead, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Do what, exactly? Seems like you’re pretty tied up at the moment!” Joker pops right in front of your face with a wicked smile that has you startling backward into your captors. “Perhaps another introduction is in order,” Joker teases. “I think it’s time you met my other half,” his voice drips with amused malice. All the while, his manic eyes refusing to leave your pained ones. “Oh, Two Face!” Joker sing-songs off to the right of you.

The shuffling of men and their sniffles in the cold is all you can hear for the longest time, then scuffled steps.

There’s no way you’re actually going to meet Two Face, right?

Right? 

A twinkling metal sound reverberates as the aforementioned man strolls forward, followed by crowds of men. 

Shit.

Two Face’s normal side is bathed in the moonlight first. You squint to get a better look right as his wicked side emerges from the shadows into full visibility. You can’t help but gasp. 

The comic books could never do his veneer justice. 

His hand is nonchalantly tucked into the white side of his suit while the scarred hand flips a hefty coin over and over again. 

Two Face’s daunting voice grumbles out your name with half a smirk adorning his grotesque face, “I’m sure by now you’re in on our little agreement, right?” The coin continues to glisten as it’s thrown into the night air with practiced motions. “How mommy and daddy sold you out when you were born?” You shake your head ‘no.’ “Oh, you’re not in on it?”

You spit at him, “Fuck you.” 

“Newsflash, brat,” he snaps with a wretched venom as he grabs your face. Your eyes are wide with fear as he shakes your face, seeming to switch between ire and calm sporadically. “The only thing you’ve been good for is your social security number. You’re worthless. They’ve had this organization created with the financial backing of this loon while you were still in mommy’s stomach.” You were truly born to die by the very people who’d brought you into this world. You shake your head as tears form, refusing to believe it but knowing it’s true. “Cry all you want,” he taunts, “but you’ll be dead before the hour’s up.”

He motions for you to see the time on his silver Rolex. 

2:39 AM.

Joker snickers while the two of them circle around you like vultures closing in on roadkill. 

You’re completely vulnerable in this moment. 

“Go on!” Joker hypes Two Face up, “Tell the poor little thing,” he tugs at your cheek as if you’re a baby, “how she’s going to save Gotham!” He jumps up excitedly and, if you weren’t sure he was unstable before, you do now. Every movement is jerky and completely erratic, never flowing into each other so much as clashing in a grandeur fashion.

Your dad sighs, rubbing irritably at the space between his eyebrows, “Our organization was built with the backing of Gothamite’s with a vision for a Gotham. A Gotham with the right rich people, which, of course, means taking money away from those who don’t deserve it. Worthy Gotham families would funnel money into our insurance scheme and funded, well-”

“Our research,” Two Face supplies. He stops pacing and his mangled side faces you. “With plans as grand as this, enemies of our organization would need to be dealt with swiftly and justly. A culling of Gotham’s wealthiest, so to speak. Thus, you came into play again.”

“Oh, oh!” Joker raises his hand up and down enthusiastically like he’s answering a question in class. “Me next!” 

“Why do I put up with this clown?” Two Face groans, turning to his main henchmen for an answer he’ll never find.

His yellow teeth are on full display as he gets in your face again. “You, my dear, are the only reason your parents were even included in the deal,” he informs you, sickening eyes searching for any emotions on your face, but now you’re more focused on the missing pieces. “Only under the stipulations that, A.,” he holds up a finger in front of your left eye, “the organization would kill you when it came time to collect our spoils and, B.” Another pale finger, this time in front of your right eye. “That you’d be the test subject for our eventual enemies' medicine.” He nods with sinister delight as horror settles across your face. “That’s right. You’ve been a dead girl walking since birth,” he’s up in your face, practically spitting vile through his now gritted teeth. “A pawn.”

Joker looks over his shoulder and nods for someone to come forward.

From the crowd, a skinny man with Joker face paint walks forward with a bulky briefcase and hands it to Joker with his head bowed.

“For our vision,” the man says. 

Joker takes him in with a disgusted look and brings down a fist at the base of the man’s neck. You can’t help but gasp in alarm as the man seems to go from standing to crumbling to the floor before you can even manage to blink.

“Don’t worry!” Joker pouts with faux concern as he punt-kicks the crumpled man in his side, causing him to roll over at the sheer force with a resounding crack. “He’s just on break! You get it?” he erupts into a fit of laughter, eyes remaining insanely open all the while.

He wiggles his fingers greedily like he’s dipping them into some deplorable cookie jar. The case clicks open, causing you to flinch and tightly squeeze your eyes together.

You stare at the glowing green tubes embedded in the case in front of you.

You glare as you turn to your parents, wondering if they even cared you were about to die, but they’re facing the Joker.

They were the ones who originally created the account and scheme itself, and, hell, they were even the ones to get you to show up here, yet they seem to have forfeited control to the Joker. The way their eyes constantly flick to him and how they verbally defer to him on what to do next, how can they not see they’re the henchmen in their own plot?

They’re the real pawns.

And you? You’re just stuck in the damn crossfire.

“Why two?”

“Easy.” Two Face’s bald eyeball scours around in its socket as he eyes your chest up. “I like a nice, even two,” he offers.

Gross.

Since they seem content to spill all this information, you wonder if you can get them to divulge even more. You continue your questioning, “What does it do?” 

You’ve been injected before, yes, but you’re after anything that can get you one step ahead of them. 

“Oh, say no more!” Joker traverses around Two Face gleefully, cutting him off in the process. The split man appears entirely done with his business partner now as if he’s seconds away from capping the clown. “We wouldn’t want to spoil the fun, now, would we?” Joker asks, his voice turns menacing as he peaks around the black side of Two Face’s suit.

“Tell you what,” Two Face’s haughty proposition seems only to be coming from the smirking side of his mouth. “Heads we inject you, tails we forget about the whole thing.”

You raise a dubious brow at his blatant lie. These fuckers don’t know how many comic pages you’ve poured over since middle school. You’re already familiar with their little schticks and a motherfucker like Two Face isn’t about to fuck you over.

“Heads, I go free,” you say with a nod his way, calling him out on his bullshit.

His mouth hitches, squeezing out a growl from the rotted corner, “I’ve already made my deal. Accept it or get injected anyway, brat.”

“Well,” you roll your eyes, “that’s not exactly fair.”

He sneers as he rapidly advances on you. “YOU THINK I GIVE A DAMN ABOUT FAIR? YOU THINK LIFE IS FAIR? LOOK AT ME. DOES THIS LOOK FAIR?” he pants rabidly with an animalistic look in his already wild eyes. After a brief moment, he clears his throat, schooling his face as he wipes at imaginary dust on his color-blocked suit. Two Face seems entirely entranced as he flips his coin, holding his hand over it to prevent the result from being revealed. His voice is contrastingly calm and collected when he addresses you again, “How does it feel knowing your family doesn’t care about you?” 

Your parents may know you have Red Hood and Arsenal on your side, but they definitely don’t know you have the entire Bat Family, too. Though they remain concealed, every member of the Wayne family stands at the ready on the surrounding warehouse rooftops to take down this horde of goons. 

You smirk when you hear Batman give the ‘stand-by’ over the comms system.

“I wouldn’t know.” 

Two Face’s face contorts at your response and, before he can reveal the Heads that lay underneath his hand, you see multiple shadows flitting down from the sky.

From here, it’s a flurry of rapid-paced movement as everyone moves in at once.

Robin’s the one who whisks you off and hands you off to Arsenal. You quickly duck behind the barricade they’ve created for you on a nearby rooftop.

Below, the sounds of war cries, clanking and pained cries ring out into the bay, reminding you of the very real situation at hand.

Robin looks at you, grabbing your hand in his. “I need you to stay safe,” his voice shakes out. “It’s selfish, I know, but just say the word and I’ll take you far away from here.” The whites of his mask hide effectively hide his usual tells from you. “It’s what father instructed me to do.”

Your breathing hitches, “You’re not going to?”

He’s going against Batman?

“I know you can handle yourself,” he sighs. “I also know you’d only blame yourself if anything happened to anyone here without you having a way to stop it.” Robin stares down at your connected hands. “Just promise me you won’t make me regret this.”

“Promise."

He isn’t able to look at you after this and he releases your hand at once. Robin takes down two men before tackling another group of them back down to the ground, knocking them out with the landing.

When you turn around, Arsenal’s tugging his trucker hat low enough on his head that you’re only barely able to see the wicked glint in his eyes.

“Well, wasn’t that just fuckin’ special,” Arsenal doesn’t try to hide the jealousy lighting up his voice.

Roy… Jealous… of you??? 

That’s fucking rich.

“Oh, come the fuck on,” you say with a roll your eyes. All the while, he fires off round after round of rubber bullets into the crowd of goons. “We literally fucked last night.”

He can’t argue with your logic and, instead, reach over for a fist bump. You leave him hanging easily with an unimpressed glare. 

“Damn, tough crowd,” Arsenal says. When a few of Two Face’s men get too close, he switches to his specialty arrows. 

You watch in a panic as the men attempt to close in on your barricade from either side of the building. You don’t have to worry for too long, though, as Arsenal wastes no time in firing off shots from his prosthetic. The arrows appear to have heat trackers in them as they trail behind the screaming goons. The burly men trample each other down the stairs in an attempt to flee from the fury of Arsenal’s bionic quiver.

You can’t help but watch with wide eyes. “Woah,” you mutter in amazement. You absentmindedly go to feel up his weapon, regretting it instantly when you feel its radiating heat. “That’s fucking awesome, I can’t even lie.”

“New favorite superhero?” he teases while waggling his brows at you from under his trucker cap.

You roll your eyes at his shit-eating grin, “Focus.” 

“I’ll take that as a yes, princess.” 

The original barrage of arrows seems to have done their job, but soon enough more of Two Face’s men break away from Nightwing down below. Once again, your barricade comes under attack as the burly men attempt to breach it again. 

Suddenly, Spoiler swoops in to start chipping away at the back of the wave, mainly Joker’s men, until Red Robin joins her at her side. You watch as they swiftly eye each other up with barely contained amusement at their predicament. Without hesitation, the two of them work in well-practiced coordination to tackle more of the horde heading your way.

The moshpit on the ground steadily thins as each Bat makes their way through the throng of henchmen, taking on multiple men at a time. 

This is good, you think.

Another glance around proves the two Robins are squaring off with Two Face, but still, Red Hood, Batman and the Joker are nowhere to be seen.

That’s… definitely not good.

A quick look behind you proves Arsenal’s already thinking the same thing.

Arsenal screams your name and you duck on instinct, watching in horror as two bullets become embedded in the armor of his stomach. He grunts, then cries out in pain as their weight sinks into his flesh. He makes quick work of the offending gang member before stumbling over to you.

“I can’t,” Arsenal chokes out as he slides down the front of the barricade, stomach clasped in his hands. Thin streams of blood trickle onto his pale arm as they weave syrupy paths in between the spatters of freckles. “I need you, please.”

You gulp, thinking back to how different those exact words sounded coming from him just the night before.

“I’ll protect you,” you promise, taking the Uzi strapped to his thigh in the process. You check the chamber out of habit, keeping a steady eye on the advancing men all the while. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

A weak smile tugs at the corner of his chapped lips. “Go get ‘em, princess.”

You sigh, cracking your neck to either side and shaking out your arms as a mixture of Joker and Two Face's henchman clamor over the roof’s edge. They stalk toward you with disgusting, wanton looks in their eyes. 

You pump yourself up one more time, shivering as cold adrenaline settles across your entire body. They’ve got the wrong fucking one.

While they’re still some way off, you play crowd control.

You swiftly scatter the men with rubber bullets, only halting when you need to reload, but quickly realize you don’t have the time. Though you’ve managed to knock out 90% of the hoard, five hulking men remain.

You throw aside the empty gun with disdain as Arsenal fires off quick shots from behind. He manages to distract two of them well enough that you’re able to square up with the other three.

One of them scoffs as he takes in your battle stance, “I didn’t sign up to hit no fuckin’ bitch.”

“This bitch just took out Frankie and Tommy in seconds,” he reminds his friend. The man cracks his knuckles, grinning at you with a smile that's supposed to be terrifying but only causes you to roll your eyes. Henchmen always play into the same stereotypes, it seems, both in comics and in real life. “We’re takin’ her down. Then we’re takin’ her down,” he says with a wink. 

The other goons start howling with laughter as they close in on you like a pack of wailing hyenas. 

You’re ready for them as you steel yourself with the skills they’ve taught you that you didn’t have the first time around at the gala. 

Round two motherfuckers. Ding, ding! 

Your battle smile works its way onto your face, begging them to fuck with you.

They finally bite your bait and one of the men takes his swing. 

While they’re all large, bulky men, they’re entirely too slow for your speedy form. You dodge the haymaker easily, leveraging his uneven weight against him to send him sprawling straight across to the other edge of the roof. The remaining two men stare after him in shock. 

You use their distracted state to jump up and smash their skulls together. 

You waste no time in spinning around to help Arsenal with the two he’s been distracting. He’s already nearly at the ledge when you blindside the biggest goon by pummeling into him from the side like a bull, effectively knocking him away from Arsenal’s bleeding form. 

The other man is already extremely injured from Arsenal’s arrows and only takes a few swift hits before he’s knocked out.

The pleasant buzz of adrenaline feeds your ravenous hunger for vengeance, but it also blinds you.

You rush to where Roy is slumped over and panting in exertion. “R-” Even through his blood loss, he shoots you a glare and you correct yourself quickly, “I mean, Arsenal.” You shake your head quickly in apology. “Sorry. First day on the job and all, you know?” you try to joke, but the redhead is far too out of it to do anything more than gurgle around a small quirk of his lips.

While you’re tending to Arsenal, the first man you’d sent sprawling across the roof comes back to return the gesture. 

You’re airborne for what feels like a minute, though it can’t have been more than two seconds. 

You groan as your body skids agonizingly across the rooftop. The thick scratches you’ve just gained singe your skin, though the more pressing matter is that you’re currently halfway off of the rooftop. You blink, staring down at the battle below as you land in a way that leaves your head over the ledge. You blink again, realizing just how close you’d come to becoming sidewalk meat. 

Okay, no more looking down.

You hear thunderous steps advancing on you from behind, tussling through Arsenal’s barrage of firepower as they continue your way unhindered.

You pant, groaning as your scraped hands clutch around the ledge.

Now’s not the time to panic and it’s most definitely not the time to…

You look down again.

It’s a mistake.

You whimper, closing your eyes while praying that Arsenal can hold the dude off for just a while longer. 

You need to get back up. 

Though it’s not a technique the Wayne’s taught you, you pathetically wriggle backward like a snake, not even caring how ridiculous it looks so long as it gets the job done. Once you’ve backed up enough, you roll just in time to miss Joker’s henchman lunging to unleash a punch where you’d been trapped mere seconds ago.

“Holy shit,” you breathe with wide eyes as the humongous goon becomes momentarily preoccupied with nursing his mangled fist. “Oh, shit,” you curse, nodding rapidly to yourself as you scurry away from his distracted state and trip in the process. The goon hears your curse and his attention easily shoots your way like a shark sniffing out blood. He’s definitely angry this time as he slowly breaks into a full-on sprint your way. You scramble up on your wobbly feet, heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you race with a worried face back toward Arsenal. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy SHIT!” you screech as you duck and dodge blindly out of the goon’s reach. 

You distance yourself from the far ledge and close the distance between you and the dazed redhead.

When you know you’re about to run into the vigilante, you halt suddenly. Your feet skid backward across the dirty rooftop like a move straight out of the comics as you suddenly spin to face the assailant head-on. 

Your face shines with determination as you lean into your fighting stance. Milliseconds later, you’re ducking before popping back up to unleash an unforgiving fist upside the man’s chin. His jaw, or at least you hope it is, audibly snaps and the once intimidating man crumbles to the floor like a child. 

You drop to your knees before you can think otherwise, mind still completely absorbed in the attack. You gasp, feeling the tickling presence of emptiness meet your back as your calves slip from the ledge of the roof you’ve unknowingly found your way to.

Then, you’re falling, cutting through the signature thick, grotesque smog of Gotham.

“NO!” Roy screams your name with a raw pain you never want to hear again. With the way things are currently going, you won’t have to.

The rushing wind helplessly pushes its transparent strength against your body as you come closer and closer to your demise.

So, this is how you die.

Sorry, Damian, for breaking your promise.

You close your eyes, smiling, ready for whatever comes next.

Jason’s died before and he seems… Well, he’s… Who are you kidding? The kid’s still a mess, but, you know, now much less so.

It’s still comforting, regardless of Jason’s sometimes hostile disposition, that he has, in fact, died before. 

There’s no flashback of memories, there’s no words of wisdom, there’s no dramatic music. You’re alone with the beating of your heart and the wind.

The mere seconds tick on, feeling like minutes as you fall weightlessly into the unknown.

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        Instead of splatting onto the pavement below, the wind is sucked out of you as you land hard against... You squirm around to find none other than Batman. He glances down at you, checking you over for injuries before setting you down in a cleared area behind Nightwing.

There’s no time to recollect, well, anything, as you’re forced right back into battle.

“We need to get you out of here,” his eyes and stern tone leave no room for argument, though Nightwing’s quickly overpowered. “You shouldn’t be here in the first place,” he reprimands you, leaving you to shrug sheepishly in response. 

Before Batman can go for the comms, he’s swept back up into battle. His black cape flutters, obstructing you from view as he joins alongside the blur of Nightwing’s signature escrima sticks. 

From in front of you, you as watch Red Hood meets up with Joker in the midst of the sea of swarming bodies. 

This isn’t good… 

Red Hood grows more aggressive with the assailants, allowing his fists to come down harder and kicks to connect with a sickening power. You wonder if he’s even using rubber bullets anymore.

Joker, a few yards ahead of him, prances around, using anything and anyone in sight as weapons. In his fucked up mind, you suppose they’re mere props to further his deranged performance. 

Red Hood continues forward in the same merciless manner, blazing a war path with his usual ruthless demeanor. A particular cruel shot has you scrambling for Batman as Red Hood comes face to face with the man who killed him for the first time since the gala.

You stumble backward, unable to take your eyes off Red Hood’s brute power with sickening amazement. 

This isn’t right, though.

The Joker throws a grenade Red Hood’s way, but he just picks it up and throws it back, shooting it in the air just before it’s set to hit the madman. The explosion shakes the ground but is only a brief roadblock as your vengeful lover pistol whips the Joker across both cheeks. You watch as he drags the madman up off the ground by his green hair.

The thunderous explosion is finally enough to get Batman heading Red Hood’s way, though not before their wily opponent can climb into a loading crane. 

Shit. 

Like the battle hasn’t already been fucking hard enough, now we’re bringing heavy machinery into play? 

This is so entirely fucked.

The crane stirs to life, unleashing a terrifying, beast-like roar while the man behind it cackles gleefully. His first move is to lift the cargo box already loaded onto the crane and swings it rapidly over the raging battle. The metal crate thuds over the few henchmen Batman and Nightwing weren’t able to save.

You hide, using the shadows for cover as more cargo boxes are wildly swung around in the air and dropped like bombs on the throngs of people below. The Joker obviously doesn’t care who he hurts, throwing caution to the wind as his men get tangled up in the bloodshed. 

So long as people are getting hurt, Joker’s happy.

Meanwhile, Two Face frowns as he takes in the fight. He searches around for his next move, hightailing it once he sets his sights on a nearby forklift to even the playing field. 

“Yeah,” he snickers, turning the key as the engine roars to life. “Now, this is more like it.” 

His first target is a distracted Red Robin, who, upon hearing another motor revving, has enough sense to jump up, leaving Two Face to mow down his own men instead. The psychotic man seethes as he throws the forklift into reverse with a displeased grunt. 

Red Robin wobbles unsteadily before he’s thrown to the ground as the machine shifts into drive.

Without hesitation, you leap forward, snatching him out of harm’s way and nearly getting yourself run over in the process.

Red Robin looks down at you, stunned. There’s not much time to dwell, though, as the two goons not under the forklift lunge toward the two of you on the ground. Red Robin rolls the two of you to the left, then right, dodging each punch before popping up and unleashing a flurry of fists. 

Meanwhile, you scramble to your feet and wobble laughably into your stance.

The man quirks an unimpressed brow at you before following suit. “You gonna be a good girl for me, sweetheart?” he teases.

You huff. 

Men are so fucking dumb. If he’d just charged you instead of humoring you, you’d’ve been a fucking goner, but no. He wants to play? 

So be it.

Let’s fucking play.

He spits blood from his previous bat family encounters on the ground with a smile before charging at you with his bulky body. You wait until the very last second before simply stepping out of the way, sending him barreling into the brick behind where you’d been.

Now for the boss man.

Two Face seems to have forgotten you and Red Robin and you watch with horror as he bulldozes straight toward a distracted Batman and Red Hood. 

Batman shoves Red Hood out of the way of the metal rods the Joker’s unloading from a drastic height. It seems like he’s getting a better hang of the dangerous machine and it’s definitely not a good thing.

“I’m really starting to like this baby!” He giggles with glee, though it’s effectively cut off by wide eyes as Batman carefully traverses the windshield, bursting in through the opened door. “Uh, oh,” Joker slides across the seat in an attempt to exit through the other door but bumps into a seething Red Hood who blocks the only other exit. “Now, Batsy,can’t we just talk this out over a nice cup o’ joe-?” 

POW!

Even from where you’re standing, you hear the sickening crunch of the Joker’s now broken face. You watch as Batman takes the key to the machine and bends the metal with his bare hands to prevent further usage.

Red Robin sees Two Face getting closer to his family and makes a mad dash for the duo. He doesn’t slow any as he grabs Nightwing by the forearm to drag him over to put a stop to the father-son quarrel, “Back me up!” 

Nightwing quickly falls into step with him, “Right behind you.”

They throw Two Face from the driver's seat and lunge out of its path, leaving the forklift to crash into a stack of metal rods. The heavy metal clatters and tumbles to the ground with a roaring might and your heart stops when you realize you’re directly in the line of fire.

A flash of red and you’re momentarily weightless for the second time tonight. A quick look to the side proves Red Hood’s ditched the Joker to come to your rescue. You’re rendered speechless as he uncharacteristically, not to mention roughly,drops you back down to the ground to face Batman.

“How dare you stop me from delivering justice when this is the carnage he still leaves behind?”

You can practically hear the pain behind his robotic impediment.

When Red Hood socks Batman, you can practically feel the pain as his heavy fist lands in between the flexible joints between his armor. Batman grunts at the contact, parrying without a second thought, “Justice or vengeance?” 

Red Robin seems nervous as he aids Nightwing in holding their brother back. Red Hood easily overpowers them, throwing the two of them off of his muscular body like rag dolls.

Red Hood gets in his father’s face and although you can’t see or hear any of the emotion, his actions ooze it. “Are they not the same?”

This is not a man you recognize, well, not since first meeting him, at least.

You can’t just sit by and watch him throw away all the progress he’s made over the years in the heat of the moment. You need to stop this before it escalates further and you all lose sight of the actual mission: getting everyone in the family out of here alive.

You can’t lie. Earlier on the rooftop, you'd experience the same blinding rage. Seeing Jason like this makes you realize that, no, they’re not the same.

“Gregor Samsa!”

His red helmet snaps toward you and you don’t waste a minute further as you come to his side. 

Batgirl and Spoiler are covering you guys. Meanwhile, Nightwing and Red Robin hesitate, not knowing whether to intervene in family affairs again just yet or not. 

“Kafka?” his warbled voice sounds confused even through the modulator. “The fuck does the book Metamorphosis have to do with anything?”

Batman’s eyes shift to you as he continues to let Red Hood hold him up by his chest plate.

“I understand your pain, love,” you scramble for what to say as everyone’s eyes land on you after the pet name. “No matter how much you grow your calloused exterior, you will always be that ostracized little boy. You don’t want vengeance like this.” 

“Fuck YOU!” he screams, causing your eyes to go wide.

Red Hood front kicks his father in the stomach, sending him sprawling into a rapid pack of henchmen. He then spatters the men with rubber bullets before grabbing Batman by the cape, thrashing him across the ground like a loose whip. 

You’re seconds from accidentally screaming out his actual name in horror. 

It’s looking bad and you know you need to reach him before it’s too late. 

Nightwing’s taken to warding off henchmen while Spoiler leaps from place to place, trying to knock down as many of the goons who are waking back up as she can, but everyone’s steadily slowing down.

“YOU WANT ACCEPTANCE. You want LOVE,” you can’t help but shout again, “AND YOU HAVE IT. All around you, look.” You motion to each member of the bat family from wherever they are in the battle and he easily follows the action. “You and I owe that monster nothing, not even revenge,” you sigh as the weight of your words fully settles over you, knowing it’s true. “It’s not worth it.” 

He glances at his father once more before dropping his limp body and storming up to you. 

Even when he’s mad and terrifying, he can’t help but be dramatic. 

“So, what?” Red Hood asks, getting right up in your face as he looks down at you. It’s almost like he expects you to back up, but you don’t. You hold your ground and glare right back up at his dumbass. “We lock him up; he escapes, he kills and tortures again. Is that what you want?” 

It’s pointed at you and you know it.

“Not that this isn’t an amazing, touching moment,” Nightwing pants as he backflips and kicks two men upside the face at the same time, “but we kinda need some backup.” Numerous goons and Two Face lurk menacingly closer to your worn-out group. The assailants charge forward with war cries and the hero looks back towards his family, “Like, right now would be good.” He doesn’t even need to turn around to know when to flip out of the way. 

Batman gets to his feet, catching you off guard. It’s enough distraction that Nightwing’s able to chuck you over his shoulder and hightail it away from the action.

“What are you DOING ?!” you scream. You beat your fists against Nightwing’s back as you watch your loved ones get overpowered by the surprise attack. “PUT ME DOWN,” you wail, kicking at his firm stomach before leaning right next to his ear with a terrifying, low growl. “Dick motherfucking Grayson, you take me back there THIS FUCKING INSTANT,”your gritted whisper steadily ascends throughout your sentence until it reaches a shrill screech.

You begin to kick again until he finally does put you down.

“Jesus, fuck kid,” he groans and leans over like he’s going to puke all while flipping you off.

You have half a mind to break his fucking finger while he’s busy rubbing at the ear you screamed into, but you’re more preoccupied with getting back to Red Hood. Ten steps forward and you realize this is going to be a harder challenge than you’d previously thought.

Your brain buzzes numbly, feeling overwhelmed by the constant onslaught of everything. Through the buzz, you hardly remember thinking about anything at all other than keep moving. 

So, here you are. On the ground, embedded in battle, dodging attacks, hoping Arsenal is still safe on the roof and not, you know, dead. All while knowing that you’ve gone and put Nightwing out of commission by spazzing when he was only trying to save you.

You’re effectively surrounded until said hero backflips over the group of men’s heads, knocking a few of them out with his sticks along the way. 

You hustle to his side, circling back to back like you had when you sparred with Damian and him in the manor. Back to back with Nightwing, you feel all those sparring sessions smack back into your brain. 

He glances over his shoulder and down at you. “You ready to kick some ass?” he asks with a light smirk.

You offer him an apologetic smile. “I promise not to kick you this time.”

He snorts at you as the men close in, “Good thinking.”

You waste no more time as you unleash the flips and twists he’d taught you all those years ago. 

You hope to fuck that your kicks to his stomach didn’t set him back too much because you need his full effort behind you. Especially when all the exertion’s gone and torn open your stab wound. The pain radiating from it is becoming increasingly harder to ignore.

The goons you’ve got talk to fucking much and it’s driving you crazy. Their words and hollers only spur you on further, knocking the majority of them down with the other men in less than a minute. 

You’re startled when Nightwing suddenly calls out to you, “Switch!”

Your body moves on instinct.

The new group of men have been completely roughed up by Nightwing and all they need is a few more hits each before they’re out. 

Easy, right?

The first two take you on at once, while the third waits eagerly on the sidelines, screaming and chanting all the while to throw you off. You don’t let it work. 

Once again, you’re completely focused as they make to charge you, but you duck and roll out of the way at the last minute. You watch from the ground as they barrel head-first into each other and slump in a pile to the ground. 

Your stab wound has already begun to leak through your shirt. The stabbing pain has become so familiar that it merely becomes another numbing sensation added on to your overwhelmed body.

That just leaves…

“Well, well, well,” the balding henchman drawls as he advances on you. You wobble to your feet, hand covering your wound in the process. “You have moves, I’ll give you that.” He eyes you up and down.

You try to steady your panting breath, but you can’t seem to get enough oxygen into your aching lungs, no matter how hard you try. Nightwing’s grunts and witty retorts sound somewhere in the back of your mind, but a high-pitched ringing takes over the majority of your hearing. 

You’re shutting down and you know it.

A static settles over your body, humming with your declining energy and adrenaline. Now’s not the time to give in to it just yet, though. 

“You wanna fuckin’ fight, ‘er wha?” you tilt your head at him, albeit unsteadily, with your words starting to slur. You spit, tasting metallic ooze as you do. You hate how the weight of your head seems to be too much for your neck to support at the moment, but, hey, work with what you got, right?

He advances on you without another word. His strong fists are calloused and they graze your slowed movements with a heavy, unignorable edge. One hit from him will definitely be enough to knock you out if you’re not careful.

He scoffs at your unconventional stance and, in the same breath, brings down his fist in the center of your chest. The wind is painfully knocked out of you even after having stepped partially out of the way of the hit, proving your earlier point true- you need to avoid his hits, or you’re fucked.

You shake your head, unleashing a front kick, then a roundhouse to create more space between the two of you. Based on his smirk, he seems largely unfazed by your attacks and charges forward, ruining whatever measly distance you’d gained. 

You don’t have the will to try any flips, nor do you have the confidence that any of them will land, leaving you with whatever fumes of strength you have remaining.

Your head spins as you dodge a haymaker thrown toward your stomach and retaliate with a fist of your own. You have no time to celebrate the broken nose you’ve just given him before he’s coming back for more.

You can’t keep going like this. 

Whereas your energy leaks to the ground like a broken spigot, his radiates like a raging nuclear bomb that’s ready to envelop you whole.

Another hit, another parry; more energy gone.

You’re comically slow at this point, but he’s not going any easier on you, as evidenced by his kick that nearly costs you your balance.

“Nigh,” you pant. “Nigh- wing,” you cough, heaving blood in the process. You watch, hypnotized, as it spills onto the last clean part of your shirt. What hit caused it? You have no idea only that, holy shit, it’s a lot of blood.

It’s pathetic and the volume of your dying voice is only loud enough for you and the goon to hear.

“I said you have moves, but,” you look up just in time to get punched again with the same ferocity, “it’s clear that you’re out of them.”

His kick lands right smack on your stitched wound.  

You throw your head back and howl as the pain stabs you to your core, “FUCK!” 

You’re thrown back by the force and watch as a sinister grin finds its way across his face. “I’m gonna enjoy this a little too much,” he winks and wastes no time straddling you. He puts an intolerable amount of pressure on the stitches that remain intact. You nearly puke when the rest of them burst apart at his action. “Good thing church is tomorrow, yeah?” he breathes a chuckle across your squirming form.

You ignore his odd statement in favor of lucidly squirming, but it’s in vain.

Nightwing calls out your name, but he’s got five assailants on him who show no signs of slowing.

You whimper and struggle against the man, but the movement quickly becomes unbearable. Your eyes go crossed in absolute agony when the henchman leans forward again. The sickly pressure builds until a blood-curdling scream unleashes from the depths of your being.

You black out and wake up in thin yet sturdy arms.

“The-, the fuggin’,” you slur through the pain and blood loss, “ztitchezz.”

“I know,” Robin’s familiar voice coos in a calming manner. 

You’re set down somewhere relatively quiet, all things considered, though you’ve yet to fully open your eyes since being on the ground. 

“What’s it looking like?” That’s Nightwing. At least you didn’t leave him for dead like you did Roy.

“Nightwing, Arsenal needs back up on the roof over there.” 

Your eyes blearily blink open, blinking through the blurred haze to see Arsenal slumped behind the barrier, giving it his all. It’s obvious, even through your blood loss, that he doesn’t have much left to give due to his own blood loss.

“Got it, baby bird.” Nightwing gives him a tiny salute before somersaulting across the large space between the warehouse rooftops to race to Arsenal’s aide.

Once he’s gone, Robin walks over to where you slowly push yourself into a standing position.

“What are you doing?” Robin hisses as he rushes over to support you. “Stay down and out of sight. I should’ve taken you away from here as soon as everything went to shit. You have no business being here,” he grumbles as if he’s repeating what Bruce told him earlier and tugs at his hair. “I think I messed up,” he says finally. You don’t know if it’s your half-delirious state or if Damian’s always been this indecisive, but you watch him pace back and forth. He comes to a halt in front of you as you regain as much of your bearings as you can. “We’re leaving,” he demands.

First, Dick rips you away from Jason and now Damian wants you to abandon Roy?

Not happening.

No way in hell.

“Fuggin’ delusional,” you flick his nose and saunter, well, at least you want it to look like a saunter, to the edge, “‘F you thing I’m leavin’ ah,” you wince at a particular tug of pain, “without them.”

“You’ll get yourself killed, you suicidal dumbass,” he spits in your face. “You’ll only bring us down. Your training means nothing.”

You thought you’d already felt the worst possible pain imaginable, but no. His words cut deeper into you than any sais ever could. You can’t help but remember this same sinking feeling when Jason and Roy gave you the SOS bracelet, but, hey, look how many times that actually did come in handy.

They’re all only trying to protect you, you realize, in the only way they know how, but it’s not going to work. You’re already too involved with the plan being too far in.

You smack yourself a few times on the cheeks, bouncing unsteadily from foot to foot and wincing all the while. You steel yourself for one final battle as you hurry to milk any and all of the few remaining dregs of adrenaline within yourself.

“You said it yourself. I can’t just sit by while my family gets hurt on my behalf,” your slur is mostly gone and you use it as an opportunity to plead your case. “You’d have no time to take me anywhere and, even up here, I’m a sitting duck,” you gasp and duck when a stray bullet whizzes past the two of you as if to cement your point further. “Whether it be ricochet, blood loss, or suicidal tendencies, I really don’t give a fuck,” your eyes burn into his. “You’ll have to kill me right here and now before I let you keep me away from the men I love.”

There’s a slight hitch in his breath. 

He eyes you warily as you slouch into a starting stance, albeit a weak one. “I won’t fight you,” he warns.

“We’re wasting TIME, D-ROBIN!” you exclaim. Alas, your desperate pleas fall on deaf ears. “Training means nothing, sure, but will is everything,” you spit his words back at him from all those years ago. “The will to act.” Your breathing is shallow as you face your friend down. “Well, I’m here and I’m ready to act.”

He glares at the near slip-up and swiftly approaches you. “You’re no fucking hero,” your name hisses out between the cracks of his gritted teeth. “If I have to knock you out to get you to safety, I will,” he closes the remaining space with ease and whispers the next part, “and I will do it all without hesitation.”

“Don’t make me do this, Dami,” you can’t help that their alias’ and their actual names have become jumbled in your pain-ridden brain as you slip up again. “‘M gonna make it easy. Turn away and let me go.”

His mouth shifts as he seems to fight off tears angrily. “Yeah?”

You know he’s not going to let you. At the very least, you had to give him the out.

You choke, “Yeah.”

Even in your slowed state, you know the hit is coming before he can even pull the punch. 

You reach expectantly for his right arm, using your strength and his light weight to send him sprawling off the rooftop when the inevitable hit comes. 

You know you don’t have long before he catches his bearings and swings back up with his grappling hook.

You shake your body off as you come to the ledge. 

Nightwing made the daunting distance between the rooftops look easy, though, up close, it seems impossible. You know Robin’s hot on your trail and also that if you don’t hurry the fuck up, you’ll be noticed and shot.

So, with the pressure mounting, you fly.  

Kinda.

“OMPF!” Your body jerks against the side of the opposite building, smacking your wound against the brick with each reverberation. 

You don’t know how much attention you’ve drawn to yourself, but you can hear Damian behind you. You will not go gently. Your face scrunches up in a combination of pain, concentration and pure exertion as you lift yourself onto your forearms.

From here, you find yourself behind Arsenal’s barrier. He grunts as he uses his draining strength to tug you up to where the final stand is taking place. Below is filled with bodies, be they passed out or dead, littering the dock like leaves in the fall night. 

Red Hood shakes the ground with his landing when he joins seconds later with his guns ablaze. His dual handguns light up the rooftop with a barrage of rubber bullets that none of the goons are able to dodge.

“Rubber bullets?” Joker cackles as Batman socks him in the stomach hard enough to send spit sprawling into the air. “You’re getting soft on us, Hood!”

Red Hood wastes no time, swooping in to tug the Joker away from Batman. Batman makes to go after them but is quickly subdued by the last wave of henchmen that remain.

“Yeah? Not you, though,” his modulated voice is discernibly gritted as he unloads the rubber bullets and replaces them with ones that clink loudly into his gloved hands. “No, you get the fun ones.”

Your eyes whip over to him at his statement. 

After that touching speech, you still haven’t managed to get through to him?

“Oh, goody!” Joker claps gleefully, laughing when Red Hood unleashes haymaker after haymaker to his face. Each punch stains the vigilante’s leather gloves with an increasing amount of the lunatic’s face paint.

It’s horrid to watch, so you use it as a distraction while you finish pulling yourself up.

Roy’s- head in the game, you berate yourself- Arsenal’s worried eyes are the only ones to spot you so far.  He scrambles to kneel. His entire arm is painted red while fresh blood continues to ooze from the two bullet holes. “Hood, stop,” Arsenal’s weakened, breathy pleas fall on deaf ears.

Red Hood looks around rapidly as he becomes overpowered by a new swarm of Joker’s men. 

In his haste, he nearly puts a bullet in you.

You duck and roll out of the way with a pained groan. 

Now, everyone notices your presence.

Not good, not good. 

You shuffle backward away from the men who are significantly closer to you than any of the vigilantes.

There’s a brief moment of pause before chaos, once again, ensues and you become lost in the madness.

In the midst of Nightwing, Red Hood and Batman fighting off the swarms of goons, Joker manages to sneak up on you. You can’t even manage a scream before he covers your mouth and drags you closer and closer to the edge, snickering getting louder with each step. 

When you finally come to the edge, you don’t have a chance to look back to see if anyone’s noticed when he does the unthinkable. Though, when it comes to the Joker, is it really unthinkable?

“I do love a good reunion!” he says as he swings you around aggressively. “Now tell me- last time did you scream like this?” You try to hold in the urge as he tips you over the edge of the roof, but it’s in vain. A whimper, then a screech, unleashes from your throat. “Or like this?” Joker swivels you around and punches you square in the jaw. A pained cry escapes at the contact, much to your dismay. “No? Maybe more like this!" his voice darkens dramatically as he brings a knife to your throat. “You knew this was going to happen sooner or later! It’s called parallelism, darling,” his words are rushed with uncanny glee, like he can’t wait to get to whatever horrors that are coming next.

Red Hood’s hulking form is on him in an instant, charging across the rooftop to halt right behind his lanky form. 

The way Red Hood’s holding his gun against the greasy, green hair on his head, you’re nearly sure he’s going to shoot right then and there, regardless of you falling or not. You know what this monster did to the one you loved, what he’s done to you and your found family. You, admittedly, love Jason and hate to see how the hurt this madman’s inflicted has lingered year after year, but this isn’t the right way. 

Batman voices the same thing.

“Remember who your real enemies are,” Batman reminds a conflicted-looking Red Hood as he stares down at his gun.

Red Hood hesitates, looking from you to Arsenal, then back down at the chuckling clown.

Surveying the slowing battle, you see that Robin has your parents rounded up and Red Robin and Spoiler have Two Face at a standstill. Most of the gang members have already been knocked out, with the rest either fleeing or tied up, aside from a few still kicking both metaphorically and literally.

“Oh, enemies,” Joker drawls. “They’re like ex-girlfriends. I’ve got too many, HA!” he jokes, looking around at everyone’s serious faces. “Nothing? Really?” His face drops. “It’s all business with the lot of you, all about the money,”he spits with an exaggerated disgusted face. “What happened to the theatrics? That certain, je nais se quoi everyone nowadays seems to lack.”

“Shut up and help me, clown!” Two Face swings at Spoiler, attempting to flee to the roof, but she dodges and uses his force against him. He stumbles and ultimately falls back to the ground. “You do want your money, right?” he calls up to the madman. 

Joker looks at Two Face and your parents as he begins to cackle. He continues to hold the knife but uses the other to pull a gun. To your shock, it’s not trained on you but rather trained on his accomplices. He giggles so quietly you nearly think it’s a cough.

“Yes, it’s true, this started out as a way to get money, but that’s sooooo boring!” he drawls and Red Hood clicks his safety off. “I have a new… business,” he flounders his hand before producing, “associate, of sorts as it were. We share the same grandeur vision that this organization lacks. You see, a serum to kill off Gotham’s wealthiest families isn’t large scale enough for me, no. It’s just not effective for my type of work. Buuut, if you ask me,” he gets up close to you, “the potency, though ineffectually non-lethal, seemed just right the way you squealed.” He giggles gleefully, then stops abruptly, looking at you with wide, animalistic eyes. “So, I ditched the old and got with the new!” he cackles as his remaining men suit up in gas masks. Two Faces men scramble, looking around for any sort of guidance, but find none. You look and see Joker putting on his own mask, covered with a wicked smile dripping across its front. “Aw, shucks. Just for old time's sake, shall we?” 

Your brows knit together with worry as the knife is replaced by two needles wedged into your arm. You struggle, screaming all while ripping your arm from his hold, but it’s too late. Joker’s henchmen surround you, distracting Red Hood from Joker, but Arsenal’s already on his way for backup.

“What?” You feel the liquid coursing familiarly through your veins as it takes hold of you, washing across your entire body. “What did you do to me?” you whimper.

“I haven’t done anything yet. Just you wait,” he giggles in response. “Oh, Batman!” he calls, standing suddenly. You start to feel the injection take hold on you but are still able to hear an approaching helicopter. Already, your world becomes hazy as the familiar feeling courses through your veins with a sinister new twist. “Plans are so 2008, wouldn’t you say? But my new one might just have to wait! You know I love me a sequel!”

A rope ladder snaps down and Joker takes hold of it.

Over your comms, you hear Batman ordering everyone out.

In your steadily increasing haze, Red Hood and Arsenal come to your rescue.

He hums a jolly rendition of jingle bells loudly as the remaining Two Face henchmen on the ground and your parents succumb to the gas that spills in from the cargo bay. The chopper hangs low in the cloudy sky for a moment more as the Joker’s merry screeches echo across your ringing ears before the helicopter disappears into the twinkling smog of Gotham’s night sky, “And the Joker got awaaay!” 

His maniacal laughter crackles like lightning in the calming chaos of the night until he’s no more than a distant rumble in your fear-clouded vision.

Even though he’s physically left, the injections have you seeing renditions of him all around. From Robin Joker, to Arsenal Joker all the way to, quite honestly, the most terrifying one- a Joker-fied Batman. 

You desperately scurry to get away from the advancing group of Jokers, all wearing mangled versions of the Bat mantle. 

Your breath gets knocked out of you. You don’t even realize that you’ve fallen to the ground as distorted images of the Joker’s hands and the glaring lights of the city below suddenly overtake your sight. Through the haze, you vaguely note a scrawny person with long hair beside you(?) in the passenger seat, but you can’t be sure when your senses are still so warped. 

You shake your head and will the visions away to focus on the danger right in front of you. 

Joker’s horrifying smile is smacked across Nightwing’s semi-familiar outfit as he advances on you with hands held in surrender, but all you can hear is that horrid cackling. 

The group of Jokers, though howling, give you space. 

You scoot backward further with gasping, shallow breaths that only serve to suffocate you further. You start to shake, arching in pain when your back settles against cool brick. 

“Make it stop, please,” you cry weakly as visions continue to wrack over your mind. “PLEASE!” you scream until your voice is nearly raw.

Two Jokers remove their masks as they slowly approach your frightened form. You struggle to regain your breath as you fight off the toxin and prepare to fight off these fuckers too. That is until their faces slowly morph from contorted grins to the concerned faces of the men you love.

“It’s over,” they all try to assure you, but you just keep shaking your head in your hands. 

Your rocking ceases when they put their arms around you.

Though you’re reveling in their comforting contact, you could scoff at their naivety. How can they not see? How can they not SEE??? 

You pant, welcoming the cool rain as it begins to spill from to sky and onto your feverish face. The edge of the toxin is like an unescapable weighted blanket during a heat wave: relentlessly debilitating.

The drizzle picks up into a downpour, effectively dispersing the rest of the toxin just as the belfry chimes three, echoing rings into the night.

“No,” you manage as rain trickles down your parted lips. “It’s only the beginning.” 

You weakly pull Roy and Jason in to kiss them one after the other in front of all the Jokers before abruptly passing out. 

A/N: another one of my faves to write! did i get you w the falling scene?? lemme know!

Here’s the Spotify link again!

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[inkyquince]

QKS MASTERLIST

Quince Kinky Shit (Character +Trope/Kink)

Degrees of Lewdity

Kylar + Somnophilia?

Sydney + Crossdressing

Alex + bondage

Doren + monster kink

Landry + Public Sex

Whitney and sounding

Wren + Crossdressing

Doren+ Breeding

Whitney/(PC/)Kylar + Collars

Leighton + Niki + Lewd Photos

Remy+ Body worship

Bailey and breeding

Landry + Brothel

Doren + Breeding Kink

Whitney/PC/Kylar + Collar

Niki + Leighton = Lewd Pictures

Remy/PC/Wren + Somno

Ivory Wraith + Yandere/Possessive Sex

Wolf!Eden + Period Sex

Plant Person + Tentacle Sex

Remy/Bull!PC+ Breeding Dummy

Bailey + Degradation

Whitney/ Kylar + Noncon

Landry + Petplay

Great Hawk + Air Sex

Winter + Spanking

PC + Monsterfucking

Doren + Roleplay

Sydney + Aphrodisiac

Briar x Landry + Cucking

Leighton + Overstimulation

Quinn + Exhibitionism

Leighton + Incest Roleplay

Doren + Horny Snap

Quinn + Bimbofication

Winter + Cum Drunk

Avery x Quinn + Double Penetration

Whitney + Somno

Quinn + Breeding

Briar + Toys

Leighton + Trying to Keep Quiet

Ivory Wraith + Cockwarming

Bailey + Hardcore Sex

Bailey + Brat

Leighton + Bimbofication

Whitney + Bloodplay

Briar + Public Fingering

Veteran Guard + Anal

Bailey + Big Glass Window

Kylar + Edging

Harper + Exhibitionism

Wren + Incest

Leighton + First Time! Prostitute

Winter +Shibari

Remy/Wren + Cucking

Sydney The Faithful + Spanking

Bailey + Feminisation

Whitney + Dacryphilia

Eden + Lactation

Gotham

Dick Grasyon + Baby Trapping

Bruce Wayne + Cuckholding

Baldurs Gate 3

God Gale + Kidnapping

Halsin + Predator/Prey

Halsin + Size Kink

Cyberpunk 2077

Johnny Silverhand + Praise/Degradation

Obey me (Discontinued Asks)

Leviathan + Breeding Kink

Asmodeus | Praise/Degradation

Mammon and Bondage

Lucifer and Collaring + Facefucking

Divinity Original Sin 2

Ifan + Biting

The Arcana

Julian + DOL

Muriel + Predator/Prey

Inky's OCs

Gabriel Sinclair + Free Use

Arno Gallagher + Recorded Sex

Ewan Blythe + Masked Sex

Joaquim St.James/ Danny (@angrelysimpping oc) + Threesome