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equallyshaw · 9 months

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(i might do a blurb on his pov during those lost years)

YES!! i love seeing other povs!!

this takes place during 2018 christmas, june 2019 & summer 2023!

warnings: swearing! jack being immature lmao

send in more thoughts pls!!

everything that kailey did, annoyed the absolute crap out of jack. luke nor quinn had ever understood why, and jack never wanted to explain why. this christmas in particular was difficult, and missing a cherished member of the hughes family. kailey had been having a difficult time in highschool thus far, her sophomore year with luke. she decided that she was gonna fly up to upstate new york, to get away and be in a different environment. and truth be told, while she was dealing with bullies at school she was also dealing with a bully at home, and could never escape them.

☆

christmas 2018-

it was the day before christmas eve, and quinn had just flown in while kailey was flying out. he got into jims car and he could sense that something was wrong or off, "whats going on dad?" he questioned, nervous that it had to do with kailey. and he was right. "kails went to go visit my folks in upstate new york. she'll be back on the 2nd." he said and quinns eyebrows crinkled. "she's- she's having a really hard time at school and we already know that jack isn't helping. id rather ship him off if he didn't have practice." jim muttered and quinn sighed. "what is wrong with him? I've already spoken to him a lot this summer and he still isn't getting it." quinn said pulling out his phone to text kailey, "you're mom has about had it." jim said getting onto the expressway.

as soon as quinn walked in, he quickly went to go find jack who was with luke downstairs. "what the hell is wrong with you?!" quinn asked turning the tv off. "hey!" both younger brothers exclaimed, and quinn shook his head. "what is wrong with you jack, huh? why do you keep driving kails away!" quinn demanded but jack rolled his eyes, standing up. "no!" quinn said pushing him back on the couch, "tell me right now why our baby sister had to fucking flee because of you!" quinn exasperated, while luke stayed silent. luke knew exactly why.

jack shook his head, "do you not realize how bad it is at school? do you not realize the amount of bullying she gets, for you to only add to it here? what is supposed to be her safe place, is not!" quinn fumed and jack sighed. "if you don't say, i know luke will tell me exactly what i need to know. im giving you a chance to come clean." quinn said standing his ground. jack was silent, "what is it?!" quinn screamed one last time.

jack sighed once more, "its always about her, kailey this kailey that, when is it my turn?" he questioned and by the look on quinns face, you thought he was about to kill his brother. "seriously? you're jealous of your sister? you're jealous of somebody who doesn't play hockey, doesn't skate, plays her own sports and gets bullied? you're jealous of your sister who does whatever she can to blend in? are you stupid?" quinn said angrily. luke rolled his eyes, "he's just upset because mom and dad make sure that they are there for everything of hers. he's upset that she has more freedom, and gets the most support out of the two of us." luke butted in and jack glared at him. "you're an idiot, an absolute buffoon jack. last time i checked, you chose this. you chose to play hockey." quinn said shaking his head. "you are the reason why you guys moved here. she may be upset at that fact, but she's moved on from it. you give her so many reasons to not like you - but shes a better person because she still wants to do right by you. she wants to prove to you that she can be a good sister. do you not realize how much shit she puts up with from you, because she wants you to be her friend at the end of the day? and don't deny it, but i heard about the 'she's literally just a roommate' comment to the boys." quinn finished, before looking at luke. "i expect more from you luke, i expect you to stand up more to this idiot." he finished before walking upstairs to find his mom. he had a plane to catch to new york.

☆

june 2019- nhl draft.

kailey wanted to be anywhere but here. yet, her parents and quinn had convinced her to come to vancouver with the family. kailey would do everything in her power, to not stand out because she couldn't step out of line or else jack would throw a fit. it had been hard the past few months, but she kept assuring herself that she wouldn't have to put up with him for much longer. ellen pulled her daughter into a hug the morning of the draft, as kailey began to sob. kailey had been experiencing anxiety attacks for a while at that point and only her and luke knew about them. this morning she woke up in a panic, as soon as the alarm went off. she called her mom in a panic, from the next room door and she quickly rushed over. "i - i cant do it, i cant i wont i wont." she sobbed into her mom's chest. ellen rubbed her hand over her daughter's back, holding on as tightly as she could. but she knew that if she didn't give jack the attention is so craved, she'd also never hear the end of that. "i cant mom, i cant!" she exasperated, pulling away and sitting down on the bed. ellen sat down across from her on the extra bed, waiting for her daughter to say something. "im sorry, i cant do it. i cant support somebody that tears me down every chance he gets. i literally breathe and he finds an issue with it. im over it, im not making my self physically sick anymore." she said beginning to cry again. ellen and jim could never say or do enough to get him to stop, and none of the boys would say why exactly he had done what he'd done. they'd had it with him, taking away things and grounding him but none of it did a damn thing.

ellen had a sneaky suspicion of what it was, but would not hear the truth for awhile longer.

the family had just finished getting ready and were in jack's suite, filming as well. kailey on the other hand was in her bathroom, sitting on the tile floor puking her guts out. she had made herself so physically ill the whole day, and this was the only way for her body to dismiss it. quinn knocked on the door with luke before walking in, and realized that the room was empty. luke knocked on the door, and he quickly whipped it open when he heard gagging. "oh my god!" he said kneeling down in front of her, pulling her hair back as she puked. she sat back against the bath tub and the boys took in how hollow her eyes were. her skin pale, and exhaustion plagued her features. "whats going on?" luke asked pulling her against his chest. she shrugged, as quinn texted their mom. her eyes began to refill with tears, as luke pulled her in as close as possible. "i cant go. i wont allow myself to." she whispered for only luke to hear. "he doesn't deserve my support, anymore. i cant support somebody who doesn't love me or even like me." she said louder and quinn picked it up. he left the bathroom and room, and headed over to the suit that his parents and jack were in. as soon as he walked in jack smirked, "wheres the drama queen?" he mused, making sure his tie looked good. "she's sick." was all quinn said leaning against the wall next to ellen. ellen looked over at him, and she could tell what she was exactly sick with. "sick? i doubt that. she just needs the attention on her." jack said cockily, and quinn could kill him right there he thought. or, one chance to take a swing at him. "lukes with her?" ellen questioned, and quinn nodded. ellen walked out of the suite and walked over towards kaileys.

luke wiped kaileys tears, and smoothed down her wavy hair with his other hand. she had finally reached the end of her effort, she didn't have it in her to support the brother who always thought of her as less than. her personal bully had won, and was getting rewarded for it that day.

☆

spring 2023- may

quinn looked over at jack, who was busy typing away on his phone. quinn had just gotten back from brunch with kailey in detroit, and he was relieved to see how kailey was doing after her sophomore year of college. she had just gotten back from study abroad and had absolutely adored her time there. she had also spoken about how she was thinking about doing a semester at sea but wasn't exactly thrilled about the cost. but quinn wouldn't hear it, he was gonna make his baby sister as happy as he could, and make up for the lost years.

"listen, youre gonna help me do something for kails." quinn announced, without giving jack a choice. jack looked up from his phone, and gave him a 'wtf' look. "yeah right." jack said, returning to his phone. "no! you're gonna do this with me asshole. you are gonna make up for the lost years. you are gonna do right by kails, and you're gonna do this with me. she deserves to be happy, you didn't see how happy she was today. i haven't seen that big of a smile since we lived in canada man. i haven't see her so content. and you are not gonna fuck this up." quinn explained, and jack set his phone down while sitting up.

"why would i help her? last time i checked she doesn't speak to me or support me." he said like it was obvious. quinn rolled his eyes, "if you weren't so thick in the skull you'd realize just how much she supports you and how much she wants you to be happy. y'know she keeps up with all your stats, and watched games with luke this season. she asks me and luke all the time how you're doing, and whats going on with your life. maybe if you'd give her the time of day, she'd open up to you and she'd show you how much she loves you. these past three years away from you has given her perspective and grace, and you don't deserve any grace. but that's who she is, always looking for the benefit of the doubt and ever the optimistic person." quinn paused, "you're gonna be a nice brother and play the part, and you're gonna do this with me." quinn said not taking no for an answer. "she has no idea that were doing this, so don't give me the "shes gonna expect more of this." but you know deep down that she isn't that person. mom and dad didn't raise her to be that way, so wipe that thought." quinn said with intuition, knowing what was going on in jack's mind.

jack sighed, "what is it for?" and quinn smiled. "semester at sea. she wants to go to europe and asia, for the spring semester. we still have time to pay for it. she got accepted but was gonna decline when she saw the final amount after scholarships and financial aid, etc." quinn said pulling up the email he got from ellen. after he left brunch, he headed over to his parent's house to talk to them. they were more than elated that quinn wanted to do this for her because let's be honest. she deserves the absolute world.

a week later.

"quinn?" kailey called out after stepping into her parents house. she had received a text from quinn if she could meet her there, that afternoon. what she did not expect, was to see jack there with quinn. they two were in the living room, hanging out with everybody. "hey sweetie, come here!" ellen said patting the spot next to her. kailey eyed jack, as she walked over to the couch. he hadn't seen her in three years almost, and she had changed. changed for the better of course. "yes?" she questioned as the family looked at quinn and jack with smiles. "we wanted to do something for you, kails." quinn began. "think of it as a token of our brotherly love." jack said and quinn elbowed him, "you're in on this?" she questioned jack. jack swallowed hard and nodded, "umm." she said not sure how to respond. "here." quinn said standing up and handing her the envelope. it was a confirmation slip for the semester at sea and a flight to europe for docking. she took the envelope, and opened it up slowly. she saw the ticket before the confirmation slip, "oh my god? oh my god!" she said standing up and freaking out. her eyes filled with tears of gratitude, and hugged quinn. "thankyou thankyou thankyou." she said into quinns chest, and the family only laughed in response. "oh my god, i could cry." she said pulling back and looking up at her brother. "don't cry kails, it isn't necessary." he said and she shook her head. "ill repay you guys i promise! it might take awhile after graduation, but ill get there!" she said looking between jack and quinn, but they shook their head. "no! you arent repaying us a dime. we want to do it for you, we have the ability to so you don't need to worry." jack finally spoke up. worry was her middle name when it came to jackson.

"dont worry blondie, you deserve the opportunity to go, so you're going." quinn added and kailey frowned. "alright." she said softly before luke stood up and wrapped his arms around his sister. "you're gonna have to text me every day, send me all the pictures in the world. im gonna have huge fomo." luke mused and quinn second that. "come here." quinn said wrapping his arms around the other side of the girl, and she felt the weight of them. "god ii swear to god if you make me fall over." she said as the two boys laughed. quinn waved jack over, and jack fought with himself. he didn't know what to do. "get over here princess." kailey announced, and jack sighed standing up.

ellen snapped a quick picture of the four's group hug. ellen and jim looked at one another thinking the same thing, they hoped that this was the beginning of a new chapter between kailey and jack. and hoped that jack wouldn't screw it up.

hope you enjoyed!!!

also quinn and luke to the rescue 🥺

#jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #connor bedard x k hughes au #star crossed lovers au #new jersey devils #vancouver canucks

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dailycass-cain · 1 year

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How I Came to Appreciate Batgirl: Redemption Road More...

Once upon a time, I wasn't really fond of this story. I hated and loathed it. Since 2020 however, I gained a greater appreciation for the mini-series. Now it isn't on the top tier of Cassandra Cain stories, but I don't see it lower tier list anymore.

Why?

Well, I'm going to tell you, and maybe you'll appreciate this story too.

I fully confess this story more as a "Schrödinger's Cassandra Cain" story. There is a lot of bad in it, and yet there is a lot of good in it. First off, the one element I do enjoy is the art by Jim Calafiore.

There's a grit Calafiore brings to this story. It helps balance the good and the bad. The good is that he draws a very scary Cass. That and I do enjoy the opening homage to a certain two-clawed Wolverine in the opening spread:

Now for the very title of the series, you can interpret "redemption road" as two-fold: in writer Adam Beechen redeeming not only Cassandra in the eyes of the Bat-Family but redeeming himself with readers for well turning her heel back in Robin #150 and "Titans East" (Teen Titans #42-47). Cause let's face it-- it was not a good story by any means and did neither Cass or Beechen any further favors (but I digress, Geoff Johns, plotted that all out and there are "reasons" for Slade getting away free).

You have those factors and this little tale. So at Wizardworld Chicago 2008 I attended a panel where the infamous Dan DiDio revealed that Beechen bugged him for pitches and the one of approved was this mini.

He also revealed Beechen was the only one pitching stories on Cass (which was a half-lie, if you've seen my "Lost Tales of Cass" post, you know Chuck Dixon had a fill-in issue of Detective Comics ready to go telling how Cass/Bruce mended).

Course, by this time period Dixon was exiting Robin and Batman & the Outsiders so, yeah it was a "half-truth".

That made me angry back then, but now I see the why, and I'm okay with it. In his original ways of writing Cass, Beechen's attempts were-- not good. This was his chance to show readers he had really looked into the character's history and fix these issues that he himself put in.

Think about it we came from this in Robin #152:

To this. Beechen calling out the grand problem within the Bat-books (even now it seems). Cass is important in the Bat-Family, SO TREAT HER AS SUCH. Which he does by having Alfred (of course) pointing these things out.

But Alfred isn't the only one being meta in this story. I didn't even realize it, until 2020, but there is one other character playing a meta part in this comic, Nightwing.

If there's one HUGE gripe with this particular volume it is the relationship of Cass/Dick in it. We went to them being brother/sister.. to well. We have Dick literally acting like a dick to her.

Then it hit me.

Who was writing Nightwing at the time period? Peter Tomasi. Who treated the character of Cassandra like what Alfred says? Then suddenly Dick's characterization here began making sense much more sense (when you have this going right after this series as if that writer was flipping off Beechen) in Tomasi's final page of Nightwing:

Cass was supposedly living in the Manor at this time (per this story). Funny how she was "forgotten" in Nightwing. I guess Tomasi was REALLY spiteful because he revisited this subplot during the New 52 Batman & Robin too with Bruce even twisting the knife further:

Though for Beechen's purposes he revisits on WHY Cassandra should be a key member of the Bat-Family. Not only that, but Cass goes thru a journey that explores the limits of the Bat-Family's underlying culture of vengeance. And she reaches a natural conclusion to this (more on that later).

So let's get to the real bad. No not the 90s designed goons of David Cain or Deathstroke. No not the David Cain characterization. I'm talking about #1's wall of text that would make even Brian Michael Bendis blush.

This is only one page of it in the issue. We got TWO.

Until this issue, we never really got a "defined" timeline of Cass's EVIL period. We just figured OYL, Supergirl #14, Robin #161-162, and Titans East was how it happened. Turns out we were WRONG. Did we really need to see these pages of text? Not really.

In all honesty, I think a simpler solution would have been just tiny panels of Cass seeing the various people she killed when drugged up. At the very least, it would put faces on those Cass was forced to do. You could feel her rage on why she's hunting Slade/David Cain then.

Plus it feels like we're missing something as Tim was basically like Dick in Titans East. But now he's changed. Why? There could have been panels of Tim showing care for Cass in this. Instead, he just feels muted throughout this mini.

The first issue ends with Cass confronting another mystery lady murdering some of Slade/David Cain's assassins. And again, a problem I have with this mini.

These "children of Cain" feel so nameless save for Marque, who is the opposite of Cass. She embraces the violence that she was taught and is David Cain's own Frankenstein Monster. Throughout the mini she just comes off as superfluous and edgy. Really edgy...

I really think Beechen missed a prime chance here in having Cass trying to save someone like herself. Someone unlike Cass, didn't realize life as much as she did. That finally, Cain cracked the code (with help from the Slade juice). And Cass could try to redeem her.

So this whole theme of redemption could be all over the place then. Marque throughout this just feels, meh. Speaking of meh say hello to meaningless male love interest #3 for Cass.

This subplot just feels pretty meh. I get the why Beechen tried it. The writer from Batman: City of Light attempted this. Dylan Horrocks with Black Wind during his run on Vol. 1, and Andersen Gabrych attempted this in his run with Zero (and let's face it we only remember his name because he died).

The whole love subplot just feels so unnecessary here. Again we could have more stuff with Tim helping her. Something. Instead, we get someone we care little about. Because A.) we've seen it before and are so over it.

B.) Compare it with Shadow of the Batgirl which did this right. It balanced everything by showing Cass being the focus here (you know the actual main character), and less on the intended male love interest (until later when she gets to know him, Erik, more as the reader does too)

Which leads to this positive in #2. In one page we are given Babs realizing what Cass has been up too and is all for her going on this quest (probably knowing where this will end). Which is again, a good contrast to where Babs and Cass are here. Babs knows Cass needs this.

Bruce doesn't. Dick SOOOOO doesn't. But Babs fully understands. And I do love me some Babs being a good mentor.

Another positive in this issue does is laying the groundwork on how David Cain/Deathstroke forged this partnership when Cass/Marque visit a former colleague of both men.

That these two knowing one another was hinted at in Batgirl Vol. 1 by Kelley Puckett himself when Cain told Bruce in #5 of a job that was beneath him, Slade, and Lawton's talents. So in that regard, that's a nice callback.

Speaking of callbacks, you can't have Cass hunting Slade and not have run into Ravager (who was also actively hunting her father too during this time period of DC). And here the two's interaction is hit or miss.

Rose equally has a grudge against Slade for pulling the same stuff that he did to Cass. So they can easily relate to the other. Also, you have a built-in Rose going to more extremes than Cass (thanks to Sean McKeever's underrated Teen Titans run character arc involving her).

This is why Marque again comes off as the third wheel in all of this. If you're reading DC Comics at the time (or even now). You want the Cass/Rose interactions here. You don't care about the gritty edgy third person who's ruining the antics between the other two.

Like literally, the tension between Cass/Rose should be all that you need. There's history between them both. There are similar goals each wants. But it comes off as meh throughout this due to Marque. I mean look at this panel below and tell me who sticks out as the sore thumb?

Cause then you have panel later on in the book that makes you want to fist pump with these two now that are Marqueless. Who doesn't want to read THAT?!

Look, the idea of Marque is intriguing but there should have been a clear subject spawned from Deathstroke/David Cain's alliance. An assassin. A roadblock. A hurdle. Not nameless ninja assassins with badly designed outfits.

If this was just Marque fighting Rose/Cass then at least the fight could have meant more meaning. A face to go along with someone who's being down there as Rose/Cass got away from their murderdads.

Because there's no weight to any of these fights which should have more impact. Instead, they come off as weightless. And more blood spilled by Marque because the EDGE MUST FLOW!

But if #3 has another problem is Dick really being a bastard. Seriously, WHAT THE HELL DICK?! But then again, I get it now on why Dick is acting as such. Just that this bad characterization does come at the expense of Nightwing. Like WOW.

So here I am bashing the heck out of this third issue, with very little good finding in it. Well, there is one other additional good. That's the opening page/panel when Cass is out (due to Rose from last issue).

Where does this love of Cass/Shiva together come from? This comic! Beechen of all writers laid the seed that Bryan Edward Hill in Batman & the Outsiders and Michael Conrad & Becky Cloonan on Batgirls would use. The hidden desire Cass has: she wants Shiva to be a mother to her. Yes, Barbara is a good mother too (and dammit where is she in this panel above?!)

Regardless, Beechen does understand a want Cass has that James Tynion opened (and failed at) while Hill fleshed out WAAAAAAY more. So much more that now this has to be the standard of their relationship now. Literally, this is just gold between the two of them now.

But if you want to know where this hunger for Cass/Shiva to have an actual daughter/mother relationship came? You can thank Adam Beechen for that!

#4 finally has the long-awaited fight between Cass and Slade with it well being quite lackluster thanks in due part to Marque and the nameless daughters of Cain.

But I do confess there are a few dialogue pieces in #4 I do enjoy. Like Slade twisting the mental knife to get the better of Cass here.

We get no cathartic scenes for either Rose or Cass here (everyone seems to get robbed of having them with Slade at this time period in DC). Just a rushed end to a rushed subplot.

Again, this could have been the point where Cass was reaching to Marque and that could have been the point for Slade to decide, "WHELP TIME TO EXPLODE AND RUN!" Setting up the next issue. Instead, these nameless kids all die and we the reader feel nothing for them.

When in fact we should feel more. But so it is comics and we get the abrupt ending of the Cass/Rose union. Because this is all we get of Slade and her after this issue. Which is a pity.

Again given how both have similarities with horrible fathers. There should be much pathos here between Cass/Rose. How Cass sees going down this path of vengeance can poison you still (as it is doing to Rose). With Marque being.. ugh.

If that wasn't enough we get again nameless male love interest and ugh. Yeah, I'm just not gonna post more of that. Other than Cass realizes just who Slade and her pop would target to announce their alliance but also hurt the heroes: Oracle.

Which makes complete sense. I just wish the comic did a better job with it like Bruce Wayne: Murderer did only now David Cain this time going after Barbara (as he went after Bruce in that event story). There's a lot of things this comic could have done better at.

#5 opens with Dick, Bruce, and Tim fighting Cass due to the former ratting out her plans to kill David Cain to the latter two. Still, it is kind of cathartic Dick getting punted.

...

I hate myself for enjoying that.

If you're expecting any sort of closure between Dick/Cass here you aren't going to get any in this series. Dick continues to be a dick to Cassandra in Frank Tieri's fill-in arc of Batman & the Outsiders #13-14. After that, Dick FINALLY stops acting so OOC.

Here we go back into the positives of this series. I do enjoy Cass scoping the eventual scene of the crime out. She looks at the evidence she's got and with her skills predicts how and where her father will try to take the shot at Babs.

These pages come to show that Cass indeed can be a fine detective on her own right (thanks to Babs, Bruce, and Tim teaching her). Knowing how and when the crime could occur before it even does with what she knows.

And so we get probably the second-best part of this series. These next two pages.

I mean it's not Damion Scott, but Calafiore does have the nice little details here and there. Also nice of Beechen to use TWO homages of Cass here. From this set-up shot from Vol. 1 from above too…

To Cain about to strike a Gordon down and once again, his daughter stops him from taking the killshot. There's a bit of poetry there.

So in some callbacks, the creative team does nail them. I have to confess other than Marque, #5 is probably the portion of the story where it actually gets good. Even if it does come at the small price of David Cain's characterization.

Look, yes David Cain is a monster, but there's a difference between monsters who aren't portrayed as human and the ones who are. Cain had a perfect balance of this in Vol. 1 The stuff in this volume (and until again Shadow of the Batgirl) David just is a complete monster.

In that regard, the pathos of the villain just feels more hollow. If save Slade talked to him while in prison. Told him he could perfect and deliver that perfect child soldier. Bring a reason for his life again. I'd buy that more than what we got here in Vol. 2.

Why going into the final issue why I go into that mindset. It helps the reasons flow better for the character then what we actually got. And the ultimate fight between the two is handled well.

I also love that both Babs/Bruce are doing crowd control here (both at this point knowing this is something Cass NEEDS). I love that Charlie sees what is going on and her first instinct is to help Cass.

It's a pity we never got more interactions between Charlie/Cass. If only there were some subplots that could have been dropped so we could have got that.

While we don't get the cathartic stuff with Slade we do get it with Cass going up against her father. Just unloading the life he never gave her with a fury.

It's an almost Return of the Jedi moment of Vader/Luke's final duel with Cass just unleashing it all on her own father who cannot defend himself against the rage of his child. And much like Vader/Luke there's that moment when the later realized what will happen if he continues.

Like Luke, Cass has that realization too. That if she has her vengeance what will it solve? All this pain. All this suffering that's she has dealt with these last few months. Will killing him solve it? Of course, we know the answer cause it's Cass.

No. Being a killer is not who she is. She is a hero. So she attempts to save her father, but well as we find out this is where Bruce and Tim were hiding. Waiting and watching to see if Cass would come to this realization.

And we come to the best moment of this comic where Bruce puts his batdad side full-on. I love that the focus is on Cass here. Hearing what Bruce is saying and you just see the raw emotion of her just cracking up wanting this so bad until...

The hug from her true dad with a proud brother looking on. If only you know a stupid tie-in didn't have to ruin the good moment making any readers go, "What the hell is R.I.P.?!"

Like seriously, I'm surprised no one has photoshopped that R.I.P. out of the panel. If you take it out. Damn does this work more. But by putting it in there. "Oh yeah, Bruce is about to die. ...." And that emotion just leaves you to do this.

So if any of you great Photoshoppers out there can take that R.I.P. out? That'd be just great.

So Batgirl vol. 2 looking under this lens isn't the worst Cass story, nor does have enough good to be amazing to recommend. It's just there with both good and bad. It's average.

Hence it is Schrödinger's Cass. It is exactly this. But it was worth talking about. Because it is a period of Cass that should be talked of more. Because it does redeem Adam Beechen with the character.

Along with redeeming Cass with the Bat-Family. It's just a pity only Frank Tieri decided to follow on this and NO OTHER WRITER. Sadly not soon after we'd be getting the teases that Babs would be back as Batgirl from the Blackest Night mini caps at the end of BoP and Nightwing.

For certain folk at DC already made up their mind with the character, and she wouldn't be Batgirl or apart of the Bat-Family that much longer. I guess they assumed this Volume would be considered a "gift". That Cass got closure... Ugh.

If you want to know more about DC meddling. Then see here when I go more into detail on that.

That said, Batgirl Vol. 2 gets a lot of bad rap, but it isn't all bad. It's highly flawed, but there is some good in it. … And here's me going all RoTJ fully with it. 😋

With that, I'm gonna call it a night. Because tomorrow there are things I hope for tomorrow. REALLY AMAZING THINGS for us Cass fans tomorrow at long last.

But not freaking Batman/Catwoman: Gotham War. That can go to hell...

#cassandra cain #dc comics #my thoughts

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manesalex · 2 years

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nothing starts without you (we become the stories we’ve always wanted): chapter 1/3

When Alex’s former bandmate, Rosa Ortecho, asks him to write a song to help kickstart her solo career, Alex finds himself struggling to write anything at all. Until, that is, he meets Michael Guerin. Or, a loose Music and Lyrics AU. for @alex-guerin @malexsanta

Warnings for suggestive comments, references to past abuse, and references to addiction. Not Maria Deluca friendly.

***

“Can you get someone in soon to start making the changes?” Alex asks into his phone, looking around the cabin Jim Valenti left for him in his will. He hasn’t been here in at least a decade, but it’s his now and, while it’s almost exactly what he needs, it’s not exactly accessible.

“I’ve already scheduled someone to get started. He’ll be there the day after tomorrow. Is that soon enough for you?” Alex’s lawyer, Noah, asks.

“It’s perfect,” Alex laughs. “Kyle will be happy to be rid of me.” He’s joking. He knows that, for some reason, Kyle loves that he’s staying with him, loves the chance to catch up for so long. But, really, they both need their own space, if only so Alex can actually sleep in for once.

He’s barely hung up the phone when it rings again and he answers without looking, assuming it’s Noah again with something he’s forgotten.

“Hey, Alex,” Rosa’s voice surprises him.

It’s not that he’s avoiding her, not really. It’s just that, after everything fell apart, he’s surprised to hear from her. “Rosa,” he replies. “How are you?”

“Good. I’ve, um, I went through rehab. And I wanted to apologize. I’ve been sober for two years, actually.”

“That’s amazing.” He’s glad that something good could have come out of their band’s very painful public implosion.

“Yeah, and, like I said, I need to apologize. I said some truly awful things to you and I know you-”

“We were both struggling back then,” Alex brushes it away. “I forgave you long ago.”

Rosa is silent for a moment and then, “I’ve been working on some new music lately.”

Alex frowns. He can’t do this, not again. Not after what happened. “I’m glad. You’ve always been an amazing singer. But, if you’re calling about getting the band back together, I’m sorry, but I’m enjoying my privacy.”

“No, I know,” Rosa replies. “I just… I’m working on a new record and I need a ballad. I was wondering if you’d consider writing one for me.”

He shouldn’t be surprised at the request. He wrote most of their bigger hits, after all, even if Rosa was the face of it all. But he hasn’t written anything new since the band broke up and he’s not sure if he’s ready to go back to mining his trauma for music. He’s not sure if he even can write anything good again. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Rosa answers quickly. “I mean, if you do write something, I’d love to play it at my concert on Saturday night, but– I can wait.”

“I’ll get back to you,” Alex promises. “And Rosa? I’m really glad you’re doing so well now.”

***

Alex wakes to the smell of coffee and bacon the next morning and comes out of Kyle’s guest room to find his friend busy at the stove. “I should be out of here soon,” he says, using his cane to get himself over to the table.

“You know I don’t mind,” Kyle says, handing him a cup of coffee before returning to the stove. “Having you here reminds me of our senior year of high school.”

“Dealing with all my shit?” Alex asks, careful to keep his tone joking.

“Having a brother. And knowing you were safe.”

Alex wraps his hands around the mug, eyes on it when he says, “I’m not going far. Just to the cabin Jim left me.”

“I’m sorry he never got around to making it accessible for you,” Kyle says, still focused on the stove.

“He did more than enough for me,” Alex brushes it off. “And it’s not like he wasn’t busy with everything else.” He pauses, taking a sip before he says, “Noah is sending someone over tomorrow to get started on it. Well, that and making some necessary updates because I’m not going to rely on that ancient fireplace for heating. Not to mention all the other things that haven't changed as long as we’ve been alive.”

“Good.” Kyle is silent for a moment before he says, “Rosa called me last night. She was worried she overstepped.”

“She didn’t,” Alex replies simply. In truth, he’s pretty sure Rosa couldn’t. At least not with him. She’s been as much of a sibling to him as Kyle has been since they were kids. More than his own siblings. Rosa has been there for him through so much that he’s more than willing to give her as much grace as she needs.

“She said she asked you to write a song for her?”

“Yeah. And I know I should. She deserves it. And the second shot at a music career. I just–” Alex sighs, “I don’t know if I have it in me anymore.”

“Well,” Kyle says, putting a fork and a plate on the table in front of Alex before grabbing his own. “For what it’s worth, I think you should. And not because of what Rosa needs or deserves. It’s what you deserve.” Before Alex can interrupt, he explains, “I know you don’t want to go back to the industry, but, when you left it, I know you lost touch with a lot of your friends. And you deserve to get that back. Those friendships. Or new ones, if that’s what you want. I just– I don’t want to see you spend the rest of your life as a recluse just because some asshole told the world his version of your trauma.” He stops to smile at Alex, “And I know you don’t want to let Jesse Manes win.”

Alex laughs, picking up a piece of bacon and saying, “You’re right about that.”

***

Before the band broke up, Alex never had trouble coming up with lyrics for his songs. But now, he finds himself struggling. He has the start of a tune, but everything he comes up with is terrible.

He was working at Kyle’s house yesterday, but today he has to be at the cabin to let whoever Noah is sending inside and answer any questions they may have. So he’s not expecting to get very far today either.

He gets up when he hears the knock on the door and opens it to find a truly unfairly handsome man standing there, holding a box of tools. “Alex Manes?” he asks and it takes far too long for Alex to nod in response. “I’m Michael.”

“Nice to meet you,” Alex replies, finally offering his hand to Michael’s to shake.

Michael’s hand is warm and his grip oddly comforting and Alex maybe holds it for a moment too long before letting go, judging by the uncertain look on Michael’s face when he lets go and the way he runs his hand through those gorgeous curls.

“Um, the bathroom is just through there if you want to get started on it,” Alex gestures. “If you have any questions, I’ll be over there,” he points to the couch. “Trying to write some music.”

“It might get kinda loud. If you want me to come back later or something–”

“Honestly, the noise probably couldn’t hurt at this point,” Alex laughs.

Michael nods and Alex returns to the couch, trying to work on the song, but mostly getting distracted by Michael walking in and out of the cabin with tools and supplies, paying far too much attention to the way Michael’s jeans ride so low on his hips, the relaxed way he walks, and that damn belt buckle to do more than repeatedly strum the tune he’s already written.

Even when Michael is out of sight, though, busy working on installing bars in the bathroom, Alex can’t seem to get anywhere. It’s not Michael, after all, but him. After having his private problems aired to the entire world, he can’t seem to use them to write a single thing.

He finally just gives up, setting his guitar in its case and picking up his phone, turning his attention to his messages. Unsurprisingly, there are none. After all, he doesn’t really have any friends or family other than Kyle anymore. And that’s his own fault. He was more than happy to disappear from the public eye. He lost a lot of friendships when he cut the rest of the world off.

He’s just about to put his phone back down when he hears Michael singing something to the tune that Alex had been playing.

He gets up as quietly as he can, walking towards the bathroom, curious about what Michael is singing.

Once he can hear it clearly, he knows it’s good. Better, maybe, than anything Alex has written. And he can’t help but wonder why Michael is here, installing bars in his bathroom when he could be writing hits.

“That’s really good,” he finally says, leaning against the wall across from the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Michael curses, dropping the bar he had been holding, looking back at him.

“I’m sorry. I just… I heard you singing and I– You’re very talented. Have you ever considered songwriting?”

“Once or twice,” Michael shrugs. “Long time ago.”

“Well, if you’re interested, I could actually really use your help. I’m trying to write a song for my friend, Rosa Ortecho, and–”

“Thanks for the compliments and everything,” Michael interrupts, tone cold, eyes looking almost pained. “But I’m just here to make this place accessible.”

“Oh. Okay,” Alex frowns. “Sorry for interrupting. I’ll let you get back to work.” He turns around and rushes back to the living room, trying not to think about the look on Michael’s face, trying instead to focus on his guitar and the song he’s been trying and failing to write.

***

Thanks for reading! Chapters 2 and 3 will follow later today!

#malexsanta #malex fic #malex fanfiction #roswell fic #roswell nm fic #rnm fic #roswell new mexico fic #roswell new mexico #michael guerin #i love (1) actual disaster #alex manes #actual cinnamon roll #protect him at all costs #michael x alex #otp: home can be a person #malex #*myfic

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championmindsethq · 1 year

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CFL is heavily invested in the issue at SFU

You may have noticed the terrible end of a college football program in Canada and the many failed attempts to bring it back by now.

On April 4, university administrators led by President Joy Johnson and Athletic Director Theresa Hanson announced the immediate dissolution of Simon Fraser University's football program after 57 years. "We no longer believe we are giving an outstanding experience for student-athletes," Johnson said, "since the football situation has shifted substantially in recent years."

The Lone Star Conference (LSC), situated in Texas and connected with NCAA Division II, informed the British Columbia institution that it was making way for another local team and that the Red Leafs' two-year tenure in the LSC would be its last before the upcoming season.

Since the LSC schedule had already been issued, the decision was made to cancel the sport immediately rather than play a final season.

As expected, this sparked an outcry from program alums and other interested parties, including the Canadian Football League, the Canadian Football Players' Association, and the British Columbia Lions. Johnson and Hanson may have taken on more than they can handle with this project.

Lawyer and SFU Football Alumni Association member Glen Orris has taken the initiative to file a court order in B.C. Supreme Court on Wednesday to revive the program. Seven current players on the team filed the injunction, spanning in age from freshman to senior, alleging that the institution had broken its contract with the student-athletes.

It's impossible to predict how this will play out in court, but it has the potential to take a long time. No one seems to be lacking in enthusiasm, and that includes Doug Brown, a former Blue Bomber and Canadian Football Hall of Fame inductee who played for SFU in the early to mid-1990s.

Instead of focusing on the future, this week's CFL Rundown will review the previous week in the three-down cycle.

A few more notes on the drama at SFU. You've got to feel bad for the football players suddenly without a team. They had just finished spring training when they were shut out, and now they have to deal with the emotional stress of being locked out while taking final examinations. The school will continue to honor football scholarships for the upcoming year, which is nice but overlooks the fact that many recipients will prefer to play elsewhere. You may sign a petition to bring the program back here.

It is hoped that the alums presently battling for the program's survival would remain involved to help get it back on solid ground if it is successful in its rescue attempt. SFU has been only treading water on the field for years, despite the obvious advantages of college and team sports. The Red Leafs have a winning percentage of.367, as they are 4-61 since 2015 and 186-321-2 overall. That isn't lovely.

I hope the game and the folks fighting for the software receive a second chance. Because I fear that eliminating a popular course from a university's curriculum may encourage students to stop attending. The future of the sport could be better as more people learn about the risks involved and fewer people sign up to play. This is why the CFL and other big players aren't willing to give up so easily.

The fourth time Chad Kelly made headlines was for the reason you'd expect. The Toronto Argonauts quarterback, who was a key part of The Boatman's dramatic comeback victory over the Winnipeg Blue Bombers in last year's Grey Cup, discussed his aspirations to return to the NFL on a podcast earlier this month. Kelly, the last player selected in the 2017 NFL Draft and nephew of football great Jim Kelly, thinks he can force the NFL to take notice if he helps the Argonauts win consecutive championships.

He elaborated on why he isn't there right now, saying things like "teams don't want a scary backup that's going to take the starter's position" and that he's on a "s—t contract" in Toronto. Although 29-year-old Kelly had a stellar collegiate career at Ole Miss, I'll remind you that he threw for only 297 yards and two touchdowns when playing for the Toronto Argonauts in 2017. In what should be an intriguing season for the Argonauts, he will take over as the starting pivot.

Andrew Harris, who will take over the team in 2024, was meeting with potential new players on the West Coast. In February, the Canadian Junior Football League's Vancouver Island Raiders re-signed the Winnipeg native and four-time Grey Cup champion. He will serve as the club's director of football operations this year and as head coach beginning in 2020. This past weekend, he went to his first official event, an evaluation camp for high schools. Harris almost served as a player-coach for the Argos last year after he injured his pectoral muscle and received some coaching experience. Seeing him contribute to the program he has previously praised so enthusiastically is encouraging.

On Wednesday, the Roughriders made a huge announcement: they had extended the contract of Canadian receiver Kian Schaffer-Baker by two years. After a great year in which he caught 68 passes for 960 yards and five scores for Riderville, Schaffer-Baker has signed a new contract that will keep him there through the 2025 season. This is fantastic news for the Roughriders, not only because they get to keep a guy they drafted (2020 fourth-round, 30th overall) and nurtured, but also because it was widely assumed that Schaffer-Baker would leave for the NFL this offseason after receiving significant interest from the league. It's crucial to keep promising young players in the CFL, and it's even better if the child happens to be a Canadian.

Additionally, fans of the Roughriders can now enjoy online betting on sports with increased confidence in the team's success, given the continued presence of a talented player like Schaffer-Baker.

#CFL #SFU

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punkscowardschampions · 2 years

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Bibi (& co.)

Bobby: [Basically I vibe whilst you are awkwardly at McVickers, just wanting to see Jimmy and go home, you’re not full catatonic like you’re communicating with them as much as you can to be polite and you’re doing your homework and going to School and all the normal things but you’re NOT getting into it with Libi like she obviously wants to, like it will not be entertained, sweetie; and then does Casey pick you up to go home? I feel like, potentially; anyway it happens and we all know the state he is in, despite you having a convo where he seemed well, which was only because Janis was there and now she’s not oh GOD]

Bobby: She isn’t here, where is she?

Libi: I don’t know, when I spoke to her she said she and Case were going to be taking it in turns to be there

Bobby: Neither of them is here, fucking figures

Libi: I’ll come, we can be there together

Bobby: He was better on the phone, not normal but alright

Libi: Something’s obviously happened since for her to have left

Bobby: He’s not capable of a conversation, never mind an argument

Bobby: She’s just gone

Libi: Maybe her and Casey had one, like I said, she told me different

Bobby: That’s not good enough

Libi: She’s not in her right mind at the minute and Casey hasn’t ever been

Bobby: You’re damn right she ain’t

Bobby: why help him at all, why give him hope, me

Libi: She did want to help him… or does… I’m not sure anymore

Bobby: Then she better come back, she can’t do it from under Casey

Libi: Maybe he doesn’t want her there, they did talk, she said so

Bobby: He’s not in his right mind

Bobby: You didn’t see him, how much better it was

Libi: I know but

Bobby: but what?

Libi: There’s something she told me, told him too, that I didn’t tell you

Bobby: What

Libi: She’s pregnant, Bobby

Libi: and who can blame Jim if he didn’t take that news well, I didn’t either

Bobby: Are you serious right now

Libi: Deadly

Bobby: No wonder they’ve left

Libi: I should’ve told you before, I’m sorry

Bobby: How can she know

Bobby: how long have they been doing it then, it can’t have just been this trip

Libi: It’s Jimmy’s, it has to be if the first time they did anything was when she thought Case would be sent to prison and I believe her that it was

Bobby: Then she needs to be here, if it’s his

Libi: She can’t, not if she told him the truth about her feelings for Casey, and I think she must’ve, to not be here

Bobby: Feelings don’t matter if she wants to have a baby

Libi: Feelings always matter, especially if there’s going to be a baby around them

Bobby: What about his feelings then

Libi: I don’t know what his feelings are, I’m guessing, cos I wouldn’t want to bring up a baby with somebody who was in love with someone else and would be with them if the baby didn’t exist

Libi: who only had a baby with me cos the someone got a girlfriend and that wasn’t even the main reason I couldn’t be with them

Bobby: Nah, you’re wrong, that’s all he wants, a family with her

Libi: Then she decided to leave cos she doesn’t want one with him

Bobby: She could’ve thought about that before making it fucking happen, it’s too late

Libi: Yeah, she’s still gone though, whatever the reason

Bobby: I’ll bring her back

Libi: You can’t, all you can do is look after Jimmy

Bobby: [pause to be blowing her phone up regardless]

Libi: We need to work out what we’re gonna do to actually help him

Bobby: I can look after him

Libi: What about the baby? You’ve seen how few chances dads get to be a dad in my family, do you fancy seeing him getting pushed out and Case raising it? I don’t

Bobby: She said he don’t want her here, you can’t trust a single thing she says

Libi: The thing is, I can… I do

Bobby: Why, all she’s done is lie, this entire time

Libi: She didn’t lie to me once the entire time we talked, and it all made her look really fucking bad so she could’ve

Bobby: Because it is bad

Bobby: if she knew she wanted Casey, why the fuck did she do this, it doesn’t make sense

Libi: She tried to move on, after he did, end it before it started

Bobby: Didn’t last long enough to get the kid here

Libi: Telling herself, and him, to stop was easier in theory

Bobby: no shit

Libi: What else did she say?

Bobby: A load of bullshit

Libi: Such as?

Bobby: There’s no point going over it, you’ve probably already talked about it with her

Libi: As long as we keep on talking

Libi: I got it wrong dropping the baby on you how and when I did, but we have to

Bobby: They need to keep on talking, more like

Libi: She will, she’d never just leave it like this

Bobby: Do you even know where she is

Libi: No, I said I don’t before

Bobby: How’s he supposed to ask about the baby

Libi: The same way you’re asking me questions

Bobby: He needs to see it or it won’t be real

Libi: The baby isn’t real yet, she came off the pill when Casey was with [the girlfriend’s name]

Bobby: of course it’s real

Libi: Not to look at, I mean

Bobby: It doesn’t take that long

Libi: Longer than it’s been

Bobby: You want her back too, don’t lie

Libi: I’d be lying if I said I think that’s a good idea

Bobby: You said you want him to get to be it’s dad

Libi: He kicked her out, he’s asking for time and space, you said it’s not our decision to make and you were right

Bobby: Only because she’s not stopped, or said sorry properly

Libi: She isn’t stopping or begging him to take her back, Bobby

Libi: she doesn’t want either of those things to happen

Bobby: Casey doesn’t get to just steal his life

Libi: He won’t when we can get Jim coping without them needing to be around, she wouldn’t say he isn’t allowed to look after his own baby for no reason

Bobby: It’s their fault he isn’t coping, they can’t say anything about it

Libi: Nobody is going to cos we’ll make sure he is

Bobby: How

Libi: You weren’t wrong about him and the baby, only a bit keen about the timings, and until that’s enough of a reason to feel better we’ll look after him, like you said

Bobby: You shouldn’t leave her with him, she should be at Ali’s or somewhere

Libi: I can’t force her, I’ve already tried telling her to

Bobby: You could try harder, tell your nan

Libi: You’re going to accuse me of not doing enough when I’m on my way over?

Libi: There are enough angry people directly involved without snitching to my nan, and it’s all of us who need to sort this, not her

Bobby: Has she told anyone she’s pregnant, your family has a right to know, especially as she’s not being safe

Libi: This early it would be bad luck

Bobby: It’ll be as bad luck in 9 months

Libi: You know what I mean

Bobby: No, it doesn’t matter if she loses it, it still exists right now

Libi: What really doesn’t matter is however you’re imagining my nan or anyone else in my family would interfere, Janis is an adult

Bobby: At least you’ve realised how little she cares about any of you, any of the people she’s meant to

Libi: She cares, but like she said, her whole life doesn’t revolve around me

Bobby: It isn’t just you, or any one person, it’s meant to be all of us together, that’s a family

Libi: We’re still a family, especially now the baby exists, we all have to be

Bobby: Why are you telling me like she’s not the one who only cares about herself

Libi: I’m just trying to get my head ‘round it

Libi: Why are you having a go at me like it’s my fault?

Bobby: I’m not but I don’t need to hear the brainwashing

Libi: You don’t need to talk to me that way

Bobby: I get it, this is hard for you but not as hard as it is for Jim

Libi: Of course it’s hardest for him, that’s why I’m coming over

Bobby: I don’t know what you can do but alright

Libi: We’re taking over from them, everything they were doing, whatever he needs

Bobby: I’m already making dinner

Libi: I’ll be passing [whatever food shop is nearest whether that’s a tesco express vibe or more like a corner shop] if you’re missing any ingredients

Libi: or I’ll wash up

Bobby: It’s just [whatever is one of Jimmy’s faves and thus nothing fancy like no, don’t need any ingredients tah]

Libi: Alright, cleaning up after it is

Bobby: Alright

Libi: In [however long because it’s clearly minutes by this point cos I doubt mcvickers gaff is ages away from wherever y’all rent compared to Ali’s] then

Bobby: 👍

Libi: [when that Jimothy-esque thumbs up HURTS but show up when you said you would gal, flick the lights on and off in the kitchen where I assume he is, cos that’s how you gotta announce yourself when someone is deaf]

Bobby: [the half look back we’re doing simply to acknowledge you’re here because can’t leave her playing with the lightswitch like we didn’t see that]

Libi: [sit yourself down at the kitchen table as if this isn’t heartbreaking af, obvs angled in this seat to face him in the hope he’ll wanna talk to her]

Bobby: [soz that we do not want to and are just focusing on cooking this food like it’s our job, when he probably won’t even eat it and we all know it]

Libi: [such fun, what a time to be alive, do you wanna skip to when Jimmy has to get Casey from Ian’s cos Bobby was asleep I think but as Libi’s there she could defs be awake or be awakened by the commotion of them and Chubby coming back and since she’s not deaf she could sneak whilst Jimothy is busy collecting the first aid supplies that his bad patient brother won’t let him use and therefore see the state of Casey and wake up Bobby to tell him]

Bobby: [that is a logical next step]

Libi: [shake him awake hardcore and describe every sound you heard and how you went downstairs to investigate ‘Jim’s brought Case back here, he’s badly hurt’ emphasising badly with her body language and the look in her eyes like !]

Bobby: [always a fun time for anyone being awoken that violently, blinking in the sudden light and information being thrown at you ‘I told you it’d end badly’ very rude you think Janis has done this boy but I guess you thought they were together so kinda makes sense but still ‘what’s badly?’ because he is often hurt to degrees we’re sure you would be shocked at and we wouldn’t necessarily because thanks Ian]

Libi: [when she was unthinkingly getting into bed with him cos she is shooketh and it makes you chilly as well as wanting the comfort of the closeness of him but then he blames Janis for the carnage and she couldn’t be more offended and quicker to move away from this boy like excuse you ‘she wouldn’t do any of what I just saw’ and making a movie ref I can’t cos I’m not a nerd to explain how badly hurt he do be, it’s BAD we know]

Bobby: [‘who then?’ as we’re wiping the sleep from our eyes because had no doubt you two were together so now it’s like well were they just out partying and having a fabulous time then for him to get into a fight with a random ‘and where is she?’]

Libi: [‘I don’t know, they must’ve gone their separate ways, maybe she did take on board what I said about going back to stay with her mum’ when you just gotta hope she’s at Ali’s because so many alternatives don’t bear thinking about]

Bobby: [getting up and putting on your joggers or whatever to be dressed enough to go downstairs and confront this situation ‘which you would actually know if you were at home instead of bothering me’ in such unimpressed and dismissive sign as we’re busting through this door to go help Jimmy ‘cos you know what Casey is like in these situations]

Libi: [once again absolutely heartbroken about this, to the point that you can’t even follow him, will be going somewhere he isn’t and ringing Janis immediately instead despite not remotely expecting an answer, you enjoy Jimothy as immediately just telling you to go back to bed on your own, boy]

Bobby: [at least she was talking to Jimmy whilst this drama was going on so she is awake and on her phone, even if she doesn’t answer immediately because she doesn’t want to miss any info/a call from Jimmy; meanwhile downstairs we’re insisting you let us help because you’re barely capable of looking after yourself rn and that’s no secret]

Libi: [the way Jimmy would hear him coming cos he’s loud and meet him on the stairs to deny him entry so he can’t even see the state Casey is in is too real for his protective older brother + this is my fault and I gotta sort it on my own vibes but very frustrating cos Bobby is not wrong and we all know from the fact Janis has to patch Casey up when he gets to the hotel that he isn’t gonna let either of these lads do anything at all, nbd just having a dismissive convo of your own with Bobby on these stairs cos doesn’t have time for this]

Bobby: [attempt to argue your way down for a while but eventually give up because what’s the point, get back in your room]

Libi: [Libi is 10000% hearing you come back up those stairs sir in no time at all, but soz we are simply not gonna talk to you rn cos are blatantly waiting for Janis to get in touch with us]

Bobby: [he would not want to talk to you right now anyway so it’s for the best hun]

Libi: [Do you want me to shoot Janis a message in this convo and we can do however much of that in here like we did last time?]

Bobby: [I reckon we could do that, sure I remember the vibe, enough]

Libi: [okay so the panicked missed call and then I’ll do a message]

Libi: What happened? Where are you? Where did Casey go and why weren’t you with him if you weren’t going to stay here? Who did that to him?

Janis: Okay, slow down

Janis: Are you at theirs rn?

Libi: Yeah and I saw him

Janis: It’s bad then… you shouldn’t exactly need three guesses but it was Ian, obviously

Libi: Bobby’s first guess was you, I could be doing worse with mine

Janis: I’d say that it weren’t me should be as obvious but I’ve got less of a leg to stand on these days

Janis: I’m fine, though, I wasn’t with him, as you asked that too

Libi: It was obvious to me

Libi: So where are you? That’s what I actually asked and I can’t come over and check how fine you are if I have no idea where I’m going

Janis: Undeserved but I’ll take it, like

Janis: You don’t need to do that, I’m not lying about it, I haven’t been with him since I left there

Janis: I needed to be alone

Libi: Nobody else will and I might as well be useful to someone somewhere, I’m not needed here

Janis: What about Chubby?

Janis: Look after him for me, yeah

Libi: He’s with Casey

Janis: He can’t be any use to him right now, he’s probably scared

Libi: Me too, about getting a closer look if I head back downstairs

Janis: It’s just blood, always looks worse than it is

Janis: Jimmy would’ve taken him to the hospital if he needed it

Libi: Alright, I’ll try and get him away from the bloodbath

Janis: Call him from the stairs, it’ll be a distraction for both of you, that’s all

Janis: If he won’t come then don’t worry

Libi: [do that and then send her a photo as proof that he’s with you]

Janis: Thanks, Libs

Libi: Don’t bother, it’s nothing

Janis: I’m sorry, you’re there and saw it, he’ll be alright, they both know how to deal with this

Libi: It’s my own fault I am, Bobby’s right, I shouldn’t be

Janis: I’m sure you’re only there because you wanted to help fill the gap I’d left, that’s a nice thing, even if unappreciated

Libi: You said you’d be here

Janis: That changed, I had to leave and Jimmy told Casey to leave too, that’s why neither of us were there

Janis: Bobby can think otherwise but that’s the truth

Libi: I know, I guessed as much

Janis: He’d have come back to worse if I’d have stayed

Libi: I just didn’t want him to have to do it alone, but he’s treating me like my motives are the same as [that nosey next door neighbour lady] or worse

Janis: I think he might want to do it on his own, unfortunately

Janis: or did, idk where his head is now things have got even worse, somehow

Libi: His head is stuck on me being your number 1 apologist

Janis: Yeah well, he’s got his ideas and opinions and he doesn’t want to have to change them or hear otherwise right now

Libi: I told him about the baby, I’m sorry

Libi: I thought it would help him to focus on what’s properly important

Janis: It’s fine, he can know

Janis: I’m not entirely surprised that didn’t work though

Libi: He wanted me to pass the news along the full family tree

Janis: It won’t be great when they do find out about all of this

Janis: just not for the reasons he’s hoping, sadly

Libi: It feels like I’m 14 and he’s 4, not for the reasons I’d hope, cos he’s not that kid right now, if only

Janis: It isn’t going to help, any of us pretending either of you are

Janis: I tried to say

Libi: I don’t know what to do, we might as well be on different planets

Janis: I think you have to give this time, until you can do anything

Janis: or you’re just headbutting a brick wall, only fucking yourself up in the process

Libi: Things keep getting even shitter with time, for all of us

Janis: Letting Casey go there was a big mistake, on mine and Jim’s part

Janis: but a wake up call, we can’t keep making mistakes like that because we’re hurt

Libi: You couldn’t have stopped him, not really

Janis: I could’ve but I didn’t so I’ll have to face the consequences

Libi: They’re Ian’s consequences, but him never facing up to any of them doesn’t mean you have to

Libi: you’re not responsible for everything either of them do, Jim or Case, nevermind the things they should and can’t

Janis: I wish it was that simple this time, Jim wasn’t the only one to tell him to leave

Janis: I can take the blame that’s mine, it’s how we act now that has to count

Libi: You didn’t tell him to go off and get himself almost killed

Janis: I didn’t tell him not to

Libi: It’s implied by how much you love him

Janis: It’s not always enough

Libi: No, I suppose not, like

Janis: Not the answer any of us were looking for but

Janis: It’s good, that Jimmy was the one to go get him

Libi: It’s what you wanted anyway

Janis: Not quite but it’s a start, it could be

Janis: neither of them can deny they care

Libi: 🤞

Janis: It can’t get worse, rock bottom was hit, trust me

Libi: I hope you’re right

Janis: It’s too personal and I won’t go into it but we broke, me and Jimmy, I think we needed to

Janis: it has to be worth something

Libi: He can’t deny Casey is his brother or that you love him, it’s a start

Janis: Do you think you’ll go home, in the morning?

Libi: I don’t have a choice, Bobs made it clear he doesn’t want me here

Janis: Well, you know you can tell mum anything

Janis: It’s more important you have someone to talk to than keeping any secrets for me, she’ll have to know soon enough regardless

Libi: It isn’t for you, I’d happily take to my grave how he spoke to me if it would make it less real

Janis: but it won’t

Libi: Rock bottom, yeah?

Janis: Exactly

Janis: Is he helping downstairs?

Libi: He tried, but it didn’t take him long to work out offering was a lost cause, I would’ve told him so if he was talking to me

Janis: should’ve guessed

Libi: Part of me is gutted they didn’t let him see after he accused you of being the one who hurt Case, there’s still a bigger part glad he doesn’t know how bad it is though

Janis: Jimmy is as likely to let anyone help him as Bobby is, doesn’t make it right but isn’t my place anymore to say

Libi: Yeah, our place is far away for a while, like you said

Janis: I completely get Bobby’s frustration though, it’s not really about you

Libi: I understand that, but it’s aimed at me, and it’s me who has to interpret for him at school as if nothing has changed

Janis: Well that’s never been right

Janis: I will talk to Jimmy, soon, not right now for reasons I know you understand too

Janis: They need to get an interpreter, what if you want to do different leavers subjects, it’s ridiculous and unfair to you

Libi: It’s more unfair to him, to need me when he doesn’t want me

Janis: Yes, it’s unfair for him too but not for that reason

Libi: I don’t want to go tomorrow

Janis: Then don’t, it’s not that important

Janis: I don’t think Bobby should be going either but if Jimmy decides to send him he’ll have to deal with all that means

Libi: I’d leave him a note but he already thinks we’re too much alike

Janis: I wouldn’t

Libi: Should I go to nan’s instead? It’ll mean I can take Chubby and keep looking after him, give him the walk neither of them are going to be prioritising

Janis: If that’s needed, I’ll let you know

Janis: I don’t think that should be your first port of call though, no

Libi: I’ll be catching the first bus to the middle of nowhere otherwise, leaving early before Bob wakes up

Janis: I think that’s for the best

Libi: You would think so, in my shoes you’d have left already

Janis: You know he doesn’t want you there, I’m not trying to be cruel putting it in words to reiterate

Janis: it’s not doing either of you any good

Libi: I can’t help that it goes against every instinct I have

Janis: I’m not blaming you

Libi: How is it this easy for him?

Janis: He’s just coping in a different way

Libi: He didn’t even flinch, that was all me

Janis: It just looks easier, doesn’t always mean its true

Libi: The truth is, this is hardest for Jimmy and Bobby's right to put all his energy there, I’ve got to face and get over it

Libi: what matters is everyone has someone

Janis: He’s got a one-track mind right now that you aren’t going to change regardless, yeah

Libi: Yeah, though being too quick to agree with you does only make his brainwashing claim sound more valid

Janis: It’s in his favour though, if I was brainwashing you I’d be putting you off him or whatever the fuck

Libi: What’s really offensive is him entertaining that if we were a cult anybody but me would be the leader

Janis: How could he, like

Janis: Now you know he’s not thinking straight

Libi: I’m not short of those clues

Janis: It’s been days

Janis: we all need to let the dust settle before there’s any way ahead clear

Libi: You say that like I’ve got a 🔫 to his head

Janis: Were you who just became a self-professed cult leader…

Libi: If the 👑 fits

Libi: you always call me spoiled

Janis: Come on, not for days now

Libi: You’re 🤏 busy

Janis: I’m a 🤏 of a hypocrite

Libi: That too

Janis: Being nice to everyone is going so well, why default to my old ways

Libi: Bringing up the baby as a reason we should all change our ways has already gone so well, why would I have another go?

Janis: It’s not down to you, you’re one of the only people in this who it ain’t

Libi: We’re a family and in this together, I can’t believe I have to keep repeating this to everyone

Janis: It’s not that simple

Libi: Yeah it is, the adults fucked up, the baby didn’t ask to be born into such a messed up situation, all of us need to do what we can to sort it before then

Janis: It isn’t, it’s my baby and my decision

Libi: A baby you’ve decided to keep so it’ll be in everyone’s lives

Janis: Not necessarily

Libi: It’s definitely not that simple, you just wish it was

Janis: Thinking it’s going to resemble anything like before is naive

Janis: we’re not all just going to get along for the sake of a kid, that’s not how it works

Libi: I didn’t say that, I said we’re all related to this kid and going to have to be involved

Janis: No, I don’t know, alright

Libi: It’s non-negotiable like us

Janis: Except it isn’t, I have no idea how much he’ll want to see this baby or if he’ll see me at all, and neither do you so just stop

Libi: That’s your guilt talking, I know him, he wouldn’t take what you’ve done out on this kid

Janis: It’s not, he’s allowed to feel however he wants about it, you can’t put your morals onto everyone

Janis: considering I used him and this baby as a pawn, it’s fairly likely he’s not going to want to be involved

Libi: Basic human decency isn’t exclusive to me, however much it might feel like I’m alone in having any right now

Janis: For God’s sake, I can’t focus on this right now

Janis: Casey is actually hurt, never mind these speculations

Libi: He’s decent, stop bringing him down to your level

Libi: and yeah, I know Casey’s hurt, I saw it with my own eyes cos I’m still here, unlike you

Janis: So I should just let him decent himself into the ground, great idea

Janis: I’m not there because I was asked not to be, you invited yourself

Libi: You’re not here cos whatever happens to either of them is your fault

Janis: How handy for them

Libi: No, you’re the one who gets to walk and look away, they don’t have anywhere else to go, unless we are actually counting into the ground, or anyone else to run to

Janis: They’re grown men, Libi

Libi: With no other family or support network and you’ve ripped this one apart

Janis: Go ahead and keep trying then

Libi: Somebody fucking has to

Janis: Somebody fucking has for the last decade

Janis: he gave up first

Libi: You could’ve left him, that’s what you do

Libi: *without taking his brother with you

Janis: In the world where you can do everything you should, yeah, how perfect

Libi: You’re supposed to pull people back from the edge, not push them off it if you don’t know how to

Janis: You’re such a child

Libi: You’re the one who said he might have nothing to live for now

Libi: if it’s childish to not want him to die, okay, I’m a fucking kid

Janis: I didn’t say that but that’s a hostage situation, not a relationship, Jesus

Libi: It’s not a perfect world according to you and I’m naive for thinking things can ever be better than how shit they are

Janis: Well yeah, look around you

Janis: a kid fixes nothing, that’s repeating about a thousand people’s mistakes never mind our own and it isn’t happening

Libi: This pregnancy shouldn’t be happening but you both made it so it’s up to you to fix it

Libi: I got your message loud and clear, everyone else back off, especially me

Janis: No, nothing is being fixed, fucking hell

Janis: I’m not sure what you aren’t grasping about this but it’s irrelevant

Libi: You’re not grasping that you can’t leave things like this forever, there’s giving people time and space and then there’s giving up too

Janis: It’s over, Libi, it is done

Janis: There are enough broken families within ours for you to know that that is what happens and is happening

Janis: you don’t pull yourself up by your bootstraps and muddle alongside someone you can’t stand now until it’s all peace and love again, that’s a fantasy

Libi: It’s your fantasy that you’ll never see him again, you have to co-parent however broken this family is

Janis: Right, and you know enough dads who aren’t to know that is not the only option remotely

Janis: He doesn’t want a kid, hero worship him in your own time because I know the truth and what he actually thinks

Libi: He’s hurt, unless he’s planning to hold onto it for the rest of his life, he’s got the option to change his mind

Janis: He has no plan

Libi: None of us do, we’re living minute by minute, there’s the hostage situation

Janis: His only plan is making sure Bobby grows up away from Ian, he’s never had another one or room for anything else

Libi: It wasn’t me making a plan to have a child with him

Janis: and you know that wasn’t the plan, I just didn’t want to be stuck there with him forever

Libi: I know you have no room to be this much of a dickhead about what any of us are doing or not doing

Janis: I can say whatever I want, you continue applauding the martyr act all you want, I’m out, like you said

Libi: I’m not going to applaud you for adding him to the list of deadbeat dads the first chance you get, when it was based on a conversation and how much you want to be out

Janis: You’re the one calling him a deadbeat, I said it’s valid

Libi: It works in your favour, that’s why, ending up with the clean break you want

Janis: Yeah this is exactly what I wanted

Libi: As far as him not being in your life anymore, yeah

Janis: I’m not waiting for a congratulations

Libi: I wouldn’t, unless you fancy a very bespoke card

Janis: No one knows where I am, no post is another of the many benefits, like

Libi: 👍

Janis: [leave that there]

Libi: [go kill however much time there is, again somewhere none of these lads are, until you can leave in the early AM hun, we know you’ll be watching fam content again and torturing yourself with the where did it all go wrong, we get it]

Janis: [soz hun]

Libi: [do you wanna post this cos bibi aren’t speaking rn either so?]

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sonotthedrama · 2 years

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Always Listen to Your Mother || One Shot

Kim’s parents' facetime her to catch up and to also ask her about her plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas and Kim tells her mother about something that happened... (takes place: September 30th) CW: None, cut for length

Kim lay on her bed after classes; she needed a nap right now, but she had things to do; a few minutes wouldn't hurt. She was about to close her eyes when her phone rang; she was going to ignore it until she saw it was her mother, requesting a facetime call. She answered right away, only to be greeted by her mother's smiling face on the other end.

“Kimmie!” Her mother exclaimed, “Hun, it’s Kimmie.” Kim could only assume that her mother was talking to her father.

“Hey Mom!” She smiled brightly at her mother, “Everything okay?”

“Can’t a mother phone her daughter without anything being the matter?”

“Well, yes, but then again it’s you so spill.”

She could hear her mom sigh, “Of course, you would think otherwise, but nothing’s wrong.”

Kim raised her eyebrows as if she didn’t believe her mom, “Just tell me. I can take it, plus I’ve got something to tell you, but don’t tell dad.”

As if her dad could hear her, “Don’t tell dad what?”

“Nothing. It’s just a woman issue.”

“Say no more Kimmie cub.” Kim groaned, she didn’t mind her dad calling her that, but only when she was there with him and there wasn’t a risk of anyone else hearing him call her that.

“Dad, we talked about that!”

“I know, but I can’t help it.”

Kim was about to say something else when her mom cut in, “Back to what I was going to say or ask even. What are your plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year?”

Oh, Kim hadn’t even thought that far ahead, but this year was so busy for her that she’d probably end up staying in Swynlake and maybe go to Middleton after the new year.

“Well, I can’t come home if that’s what you were hoping.”

She could practically hear her mom sighing about it but then her mom smiled brightly at her, hmm... strange, “That’s fine, dear. We were actually thinking of coming to you.”

Seriously, her mom was thinking of bringing the rest of the family to Swynlake for Christmas. That would be great and Kim wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than showing her parents and the tweebs a good time.

“Really? Because that would be amazing. I think the last time you’s were here was when I moved into my first-year dorm.” Wow, that was crazy. Had it been two years since her mom, dad and the tweebs had been here? Well, that meant they were long overdue for a visit.

“I’m serious. Plus, it gives Jim and Tim a chance to check out the campus.”

Kim groaned, she loved her brothers, despite their annoying behaviour, but Pride U was her place and she wasn’t sure she was ready to share it just yet.

“Yeah, sure. When are you’s thinking of coming?” Kim was excited and wanted to start planning for them coming.

“Well, we’ve already booked flights for the first week in December so I think we’re arriving on the 4th.”

“Okay, great. I can’t wait to see you’s all! Don’t tell the twins that.”

Kim could see her mother roll her eyes, “You and the boys. Will you ever get along?” Maybe one day.

“Oh, before I go. What did you want to talk about?”

“Is Dad gone yet?” She saw her mother nod her head, “So I kissed someone. At a party during fresher’s week and he may or may not be Candace’s brother Phineas.”

“Oh, is that the one you told me reminded you of the twins.” Of course, her mother would bring up that little fact nugget.

“Well, yes with his behaviour but definitely not with anything else. I can’t believe you’d say that!”

“What? You’re the one that said it.”

Kim hated talking to her mother sometimes, she spoke the truth and sometimes Kim couldn't reason with her, “Well, I’ve changed my mind. Obviously.”

Kim still thought Phineas reminded her of the tweebs, but only in behaviour and nothing else. She wouldn’t have kissed him if she thought of him as a brother, that would just be, ew!

“Anyway, I still haven’t told Candace and I don’t know if I should. We’re both adults and no one else needs to know.” Well, except everyone who read the Spill knew or who had seen the kiss in action.

“Hmm... I think you want to tell her, plus it’d give you peace of mind and if she doesn’t speak to you because of it, then that’s on her, not you.”

“I know, but I don’t want to lose my friend over a kiss. I get that it’s her brother and all, but I don’t even know if it’s going further than that, I haven’t spoken about it with Phineas either.”

Kim could see her mother roll her eyes again, “Kimberly Ann Possible! I thought I raised you better,” then her mother burst out laughing, “I couldn't keep that up. That was too funny.”

“Mom!” But Kim couldn't stop the laughter coming out, “It’s not funny. I don’t know what to do and you’re not helping!”

“I know, but Kimmie, you’re the only one who knows what they need to do. I can tell you what to do, but it’s better if you listen to your heart or your gut feeling. You listened to that plenty when you were catching that Drakken fellow.”

Oh, Kim had completely forgotten about Drakken. Should she tell her mother about Drakken being in Swynlake or wait for her mother to see for herself when she came to visit? Her vote was on the latter. One crisis at a time.

“You’re right. I guess first things first is I’ll tell Candace and deal with the fallout of that. We’re all adults and if she can’t handle that then she is way more immature than I thought she was.” She loved Candace, but sometimes Candace needed to be told the truth more often even if it hurt; that’s how life worked.

“Then?” her mother questioned her. Oh, next she was going to talk to Phineas, even though she didn’t want, maybe she wouldn’t.

“Well, I could talk to Phineas, but Mom, I’m not really looking for a relationship at the moment. I’m enjoying the flirting and the fun.”

Her mother laughed, “Fine. But at least talk to Candace and maybe someone else. If Candace decides to stop speaking to you because of this, which is a shame because you’re right in saying you’re both consenting adults so there shouldn’t be a problem.”

Go, Mom! She was right, if Candace stopped speaking to Kim because of this then that was her problem, not Kim’s.

“You’re the best, Mom!”

“I know! Anyway, I’ve got to go to work, got back-to-back surgeries and we all know I’m the best!”

Kim laughed, “Okay, love you Mom!”

“Love you too Kimmie!” Kim heard before she hung up and she actually felt so much lighter. She should have phoned her mother weeks ago because then maybe she wouldn’t have been so stressed about everything. She lay back in her bed, ready to get those few minutes of sleep before rushing off to Hatter’s to get coffee and start her on millions of things to do.

#always listen to your mother #one shot

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sorceress-coffee · 2 years

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RoA Chapter 30 Angor Management

Ao3 Link

Jim’s POV:

Garridan and I kept watch for the first half of the night. While I promised River I would keep her father from killing Strickler, it’s been an increasingly difficult task as the night wore on. Strickler, to his credit, has been finding creative ways to piss off Garridan. From talking of their time as Gumm-Gumm spies, to snide remarks about him leaving River and I to fend for ourselves while Bular was a threat.

“I mean really,” Strickler’s chuckle broke through my thoughts, “did you honestly believe that we wouldn’t find them? You left them completely defenseless.”

Garridan snarled, keeping himself in the corner of the sitting room, eyes locked on the front windows and door. “Seeing as Bular is dead and you’re tied to a wooden chair, I’d say they were well equipped to deal with you.”

Strickler grinned, seeing the nerve he hit. “Oh? What if we had found them when they were younger? Think a 6-year-old would stand a chance against Bular?”

Knuckles turning white in his human form, Garridan’s eyes finally snapped to Strickler, “Do you think we weren’t terrified of that happening? Why do you think we tore your allies apart?”

“Tore apart?” I finally question, eyes shifting from Strickler to uncle Garridan. “Does that mean literally?”

Strickler sneered at Garridan, “In some instances, yes. Your uncle and father were only too happy to turn on their brethren and cut them down.”

“Says the hypocrite who gutted any Changelings that dared to question Gunmar’s orders,” Garridan snarled, shifting into his troll form, getting up from his seat to loom over Strickler.

Quickly getting between the two I tried pushing Garridan back, “What is going on between you two?”

“Before the Battle of Killahead, when the Changelings who formed the Eclipse Guard were freed from Gunmar, your teacher here decided the best way to raise in the Gumm-Gumm ranks was to hunt down the defectors.” Garridan explained, trying to keep his composure, eyes glowing brighter.

“Moonlight and Ganieda stole our troops, did you really think Gunmar wouldn’t have hunted you?” Strickler scoffed, leaning back from Garridan as the glow of his eyes grew.

“Enough!” I ground out, finally pushing Garridan away from Strickler, “You two have bad blood, got it. Right now, unfortunately,” I glared over my shoulder at Strickler, “We can’t lay a hand on him, if we do, that binding spell kicks in, and mom is at risk.” Garridan sighed, returning to his post, watching the windows and door for any sign of Angor Rot.

I turned to Strickler, “and you,” I pointed in his face, having enough of his digging. “You show up here, begging for our help. The only reason we are even helping is because of that spell, but that doesn’t mean you can piss off anyone here you like, because as soon as we break that spell, you’ll have to deal with each and every one of us.”

Strickler quieted, glancing from Garridan then back to me, “Very, well. If your brutes can behave then I will do so as well.”

River’s POV.

Jim’s yelling woke Draal and I instantly, not able to rest well due to the fear of Angor showing up at any moment. I quickly teleported upstairs to see that Jim was separating Garridan and Strickler. “Alright, I think it’s time we switched,” I sighed as Draal came up to join me.

Garridan nodded, quickly heading up to my room to separate himself from Strickler.

Jim sighed, rubbing a hand over his face turning to Draal and I. “You sure? He’s been difficult all night.”

Shrugging, I nodded to the stairs, “We’ll be fine, he’s got more ammo to use against dad anyway.”

Letting the armor fade, Jim nodded heading up to bed, thankful we could separate the Changelings before a fight could break out.

“So, Garridan’s daughter?” Strickler asked once the bedroom doors closed. “Did not see that coming, though Angor Rot mentioned you were a changeling.”

I snorted, sitting on the couch while Draal took up Garridan’s previous post. “You didn’t know? That’s interesting.”

“You don’t exactly share any features with your father,” he sneered, eyeing my relaxed state.

Grinning, I shifted into my troll form, watching as Strickler’s eyes grew in shock, “Still think so?”

“You,” he choked out, reeling back in the chair. Strickler almost seemed to panic at the sight, “that’s not,” he cut off, eyes rolling to the back of his head, passing out in the chair.

I stood quickly, going to check on him, “That’s not the reaction I was expecting,” I grumbled, shaking his shoulder but the changeling was out cold.

“That won’t affect the Barbara will it?” Draal asked, just as surprised as I was.

“Oh Deya, I hope not,” I cringed, shifting back in case we got a call from the hospital about mom. “If so, she’s in the safest place to get help.”

Draal nodded, eyes focusing on our surroundings again, growling softly. “I feel like the sitting goose.”

“How so?” I asked, knowing he meant sitting ducks.

“We are waiting for an ambush, one that we are ill prepared for,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders back, trying to ease his tension.

“Ah, that,” I joined him, perfectly happy to leave Strickler unconscious. “We have him out numbered, but we’re at the disadvantage of having to protect Strickler.”

Draal nodded, I could see his brain running through ambush scenarios, “Angor’s soul is destroyed, he’s no longer held back by the Eldritch Queen, he wants you and Jim dead along with Strickler.” He sighed, prosthetic arm clasping over my shoulder gently. “We don’t know what he’s truly capable of and are going into this fight practically blind. Even Garridan doesn’t have much knowledge of him, seeing as you were both displaced from your original time.”

I winced, leaning into his grasp, “You’re right.”

Draal tilted his head towards me, “This is where you usually have a ‘snappy’ but motivational comeback.”

Shrugging, I tried to smile but it quickly fell. My mind racing over everything about me that Kanjigar and the other Trollhunters tore apart. “I’ve been reckless and stupid fighting Angor,” finally acknowledging our fight with said troll assassin in the Quagawumps’ swamp. “I’ve been so focused on protecting everyone else that I haven’t considered my own safety. Hell, I used myself as a shield to protect Jim.” Draal’s grip tightened thinking back to when Jim snapped at me, having been terrified when he had heard what I did.

“And it’s not just Angor,” I sighed, looking down at my palms, remembering my first encounter with Bular. “I had no idea what was happening to me and I charged head first after Bular. What could a human, with no idea of the magical world, do against Bular?”

Draal stayed quiet, letting me process what I wanted to say. Squeezing my shoulder softly to let me know he was still listening when I was ready.

“I can’t keep doing that, I know that,” turning to look up at Draal frowning. “I know, but how do I learn when to step in? All I’ve tried to do is protect Jim and everyone, and overall it hasn’t exactly ended well.”

Draal nodded, thinking over my question. “You never truly do,” he finally conceded. “But you must have faith in your allies, your family.” He smiled softly, releasing my shoulder to grasp my hand. “You’ve seen what they can do in a fight, you’re training with them as well. You want to protect them; I understand that desire. But they, we, also want to protect you.”

Speaking softly, Draal pulled me into a tight hug. “You’ve spent most of the life you know trying to protect Jim from anything that would do him harm, maybe it’s time to allow him to protect you. He’s the first Trollhunter in 9 centuries that has taken up arms with allies and friends, he has more support now than he ever did growing up. Let him rely on the others, on me, too.”

Nuzzling my nose under his chin, I finally relaxed. “Okay. You’re right,” smiling up at him, “Toby and Claire have been doing amazing in training. You’re the fiercest warrior in all of Trollmarket, Arrrgh is an adorable tank. Blinky is,” I laughed softly, “very good moral support and a fountain of knowledge. Hell, we even have changeling allies. I don’t think there’s ever been a more protected Trollhunter.”

Grinning, Draal nuzzled the top of my head, knowing it finally sunk in that Jim would be okay without me using myself as a shield. “Plus, his new armor upgrade gave him an actual shield,” he joked, relaxing now.

Snickering, I gently smacked his chest, “oh, ha-ha.”

“You two doing okay?” Jim’s voice broke through as he came down the stairs.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Did we wake you?” I asked, hoping he got enough rest.

Jim laughed, pointing out to the sunrise, “It’s already dawn, figure we should get an early start.”

Draal nodded, shifting away from the windows until I closed all the blinds before the sunlight could creep in. “Your teacher passed out; it seems River’s troll form was a shock.”

Jim looked at me worried, “What did he do?”

Smiling, I shook my head. “Don’t worry, he just made a comment that I didn’t look much like my dad. Thought I’d prove him wrong.”

He shrugged it off, shaking his head in disbelief and mumbling about agreeing to behave. “Alright, at least he’s still in one piece.”

“Do you truly think I have so little self-control?” I gave an over dramatic gasp, feigning offense.

“Quagawump swamps,” Jim replied, leveling me with a blank stare.

I raised my hands in defeat, “Alright, I’ve conceded to my over protective stupidity once today, I can again.”

“Do I want to know?” Garridan asked, back in his human form as the sun rose.

“Probably not,” Draal shrugged, sitting back with his axe, keeping an eye on the basement, the only entrance Angor could use during the day.

I winced, not wanting another person to blow up at me for that particular decision. “I’d rather not get into it right now. Can we focus on Strickler again?”

Garridan nodded, respecting that I didn’t want to speak on it at the moment, “What happened to him?” He nudged Strickler's face, surprised that he was still unresponsive.

“River’s troll form,” Jim spoke up, donning the armor as he retrieved an entirely too stinky sock. “Come on, let’s wake him up.” He grinned, waving the sock up to Strickler’s nose, “wakey, wakey.”

Strickler’s nose twitched as he pulled back quickly. Eyes snapping open, glaring at the offending garment in his face. “What is this?” He growled out, trying to shift the chair away from Jim and the sock.

Jim smirked standing up straight again. “We survived the night with no sign of Angor Rot. Congratulations,” he huffed, throwing the sock at Strickler. “Thought I’d bring you some breakfast.”

Garridan snickered as the sock landed in Strickler’s mouth, deciding to find some actual food in the kitchen.

“I don’t eat socks,” Strickler scoffed, spitting it out. “And I don’t appreciate being tied up. I asked you to protect me, not torture me.”

Jim rolled his eyes, circling Strickler to the ropes that kept him bound, carefully cutting them with Daylight. “And I said we’d keep you safe, not comfortable.”

“Noted, next time we’ll hogtie him, see how he likes it.” I snarled, referring to his kidnapping of Blinky.

Strickler stiffened at my voice, turning quickly to see that I was back in my human form. “Well,” he hesitated before shaking off whatever was freaking him out, “the sun is up.” He stretched, finally standing from the chair. “We’ll have until sundown to get me as far away as possible.”

“I hear Antarctica is lovely this time of year,” I rolled my eyes, heading into the kitchen with my dad, turning on a pot of coffee.

“Let me call the team,” Jim groaned, letting the armor dissipate as he looked for the walkie talkie Toby left. “Trollhunter to Warhammer, you copy?”

Strickler sneered, crossing his arms over his chest, “Oh, goodie. The Puberty Patrol is on the case. I feel so safe.” He snatched the walkie talkie from Jim, arguing about getting the others involved with hiding him.

Sitting at the counter, I laid my head down, whispering to dad. “How long until he’s less annoying?”

He snickered, pulling mugs down as the coffee brewed. “I’ll let you know if I figure that out.”

Jim shoved past Strickler, irritated that he was technically correct, Angor would kill the others to get to him and me. “For the record, Angor Rot destroyed his own soul. River.”

I snapped to attention, eyes shifting between the two, “You good?”

He nodded, grabbing his book bag to pack supplies in, “The others are going to research the location of the final Triumbric stone.”

Draal snarled, not liking that the others wouldn’t be joining us. “Why trust Strickler when all he does is betray you?”

“Because, unfortunately, I have to,” Jim sighed, pulling canned food from one of the cupboards. “Is this all the canned food we have?”

“You need more?” Draal grinned, eyeing Strickler. “We should chop him into little pieces and ‘can’ him right now.”

“Mom,” is all I mumbled, nodding to dad as he handed me a mug of coffee.

Draal huffed, standing back from Strickler as he threw cereal at him. Growling, knowing he couldn’t cave his skull in. “Say you do get him out of town. What’s stopping Angor Rot from finding him?” He asked, knowing he couldn’t hide Strickler forever.

“I don’t know. We disguise him?” Jim asked, reaching around Draal, trying to see if he could find more canned food.

“Disguise?” Draal asked, grinding his teeth, “Angor is a cunning and ruthless assassin. You think he’ll be fooled by a hat and mustache?”

Jim sighed, leaning into the fridge, “then, I guess we fight him. Far, far away from here.”

“I do not like this plan,” Draal stated, finally at his wits end, trying to reason with Jim. “He could strike at any time. He would have the tactical advantage.”

“I don’t know, okay?” Jim snapped, slamming the fridge close. “I don’t have all the answers!”

I winced, looking between him and Draal. Garridan placed a hand on my shoulder, sitting with me at the counter. Right, Jim needs to be able to work things out on his own, even with Draal.

Jim’s face fell, knowing Draal is only worried for his safety. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not a well-thought-out plan, but we have to leave.”

“Not like we can fight here,” I sighed, if mom got in the middle of the fight, it could be a disaster.

Jim’s Gun Robot ringtone broke the tension, he quickly answered it, holding his finger to his mouth to keep us quiet. He let out a fake yawn, “hey, mom. Uh, how are ya?” Pausing, “No, I just got up.”

“Nice arm,” Strickler smirked, staying quiet enough not to be picked up on the phone, “did you get that at the toy store?”

Draal snarled in his face, keeping his own volume in check as Jim spoke to mom.

“You’re gonna be gone all weekend?” Jim grinned at me, waving at Draal and Strickler to shut up. “Sorry mom, that sucks.” Strickler nodded to Jim, “Sure. Sure, we can hold down the fort. I’ll add it to my resume.” Mom and Jim said their goodbyes before he hung up, grinning.

“She’ll be out of the house all weekend?” Strickler asked as he and Jim buzzed with excitement at the news.

Garridan hummed, thinking over this new development. “That could work.”

“Change in the plan?” I asked.

Draal huffed, looking between us, “fine. I have rocks for brains. Would someone tell me what’s so obvious?”

“We’re gonna hold down the fort.” Jim restated, unpacking his bag.

“With mom out of the house, we don’t have to leave.” I grinned, summoning Midnight to my hand.

Draal smirked, realizing our running plan was no longer on the table. “We fight here. Take back the tactical advantage. An ambush!”

“We’re gonna need supplies,” Jim stepped in.

“We have weapons in the basement,” Draal offered, grinning at the thought of tearing Angor Rot apart.

“Traps will be important,” Garridan supplied. “In short, we’ll have to hunt.” He nodded to Strickler, though we could see he was still irritated at having to help him.

“Right,” Strickler stiffened, nodding to Jim. “Barricades will help as well, it will only give him a few entrances, we can rig each entrance to attack or trap him. You don’t happen to have lodestones do you?”

“RotGuts,” Draal hummed, “River and I can get what we need from Trollmarket.”

“We’re gonna need some very smelly socks.” I nodded, quickly teleporting over to Toby’s house, stealing his old gym socks. Gagging at the smell, I quickly stuffed a few into a bag before returning to others. “This should work.”

“Alright, Uncle Garridan, Strickler, and I will start barricading the windows and setting up our defenses.”

“And the others?” I asked, referring to our friends currently in Trollmarket.

“We need them working on the Triumbric stones,” Jim hesitated. “Once we kill Angor, we’ll be able to focus on Gunmar.”

I nodded, not exactly liking the idea of keeping this from the others, but if this is how Jim wanted to play it, I’ll go along. “Alright, call if you think of anything else.”

Draal and I headed down to the basement, using the sewers to get to Trollmarket. “Being fleshy did have its advantages.” He huffed, knowing this way took longer than our route on the surface.

“We have time, as long as Angor isn’t lurking close by.” I took Draal’s stone hand, laughing at a thought “Mary’s gonna be disappointed.”

“Your fleshbag friend with all the questions?” He asked, referring to his accidental introduction to the girls.

“Yup, now you can’t take me to Spring Fling, I believe our agreement was I’d only go if you were my date.” I joked, taking the horngazel out as we reached the sewer entrance for Trollmarket.

“Miss a human right of passage, just because I’m a troll again?” He grinned, shaking his head as if disappointed. “Whatever will your friends do?”

“Drag me kicking and screaming?” I laughed, though I could picture Mary doing just that. “On second thought, that’s a real possibility.”

Draal snickered seeing the flash of panic in my eyes, “Are you really that scared of human interaction?”

I winced, trying to shrug it off. “Not really, just not a fan of parties?”

“You had no problems with the house party, or the Quagawumps.” He pointed out, taking the lead to RotGuts.

“Huh,” I paused for a moment, “I guess?” Trying to process that I had, in fact, been fine with both troll parties. Shrugging, “maybe I just get along with Trolls more?”

Draal chuckled, knocking on RotGuts giant door, “Don’t exactly have to hold back with us,” he joked, turning to the windows as Rot and Gut answered the knock. “We’re in need of lodestones.”

“Lodestones? Now those are very rare” Rot tried to play up the demand of their stock.

Rolling my eyes, I lifted the bag filled with Toby’s gym socks. “I think we can come to an agreement.”

The exchange bin quickly opened at the sight of the sock bag. “Yes, yes! Two Lodestones, coming up!”

We quickly ended the exchange, eager to get back home and help set the traps. As we walked through the market Draal picked up anything he thought could help, including an old crossbow and bolts.

“Will that do much damage?” I was curious since I’d never seen a troll carry a crossbow before.

“It’s for the lodestones,” Draal explained, adding the weapon to the box he acquired a few stalls back. “This way we can control when they connect from far away.”

“Do they explode?” Eyeing the separate bags the stones had to be carried in, not sure if I wanted to know.

“They’re like magic magnets, once connected they attract all magnetic metals around them.” He paused, eyeing the collar on my neck. “Which might be an issue.”

“I can take it off now,” I smiled, hand resting over the gem in the collar, “I’ll just have to stay in my troll form.”

Draal nodded as we entered the basement. “Find the pulley?” He asked Jim, seeing him trying to reach it from the shelves we had built.

I sent a small blast of wind to it, knocking it off of the shelf and into Jim’s hand.

He grinned while taking it, “Thanks River, got the stone things Strickler asked for?”

Nodding, I held the bags up, “Two lodestones ready to go. Give me a sec and I’ll be down to help.” Handing the stones off to Jim, I teleported up to my bedroom. Carefully unsealing the collar, I sighed in relief as the glamor fell, stretching out my stone limbs.

Before heading down, I paused at the painting I had begun to work on after Ms. Kamari sent Eemeli with the supplies. Seems Garridan had turned it away while he was resting after his and Jim’s watch last night. I turned it face up to see the gold figure from my nightmares slowly coming together on the black canvas. I traced my hand over the splash of green I had added over one of the hands. Why the hell would I need to paint this?

Heading down, I caught Strickler going stone stiff at the sight of me. “You know, if you keep doing that, Angor’s going to have an easier time stabbing you.” I quipped. We didn’t have time for Strickler’s fainting.

Garridan cleared his throat, snapping Strickler out of his stupor, “It’s not like you haven’t seen changelings before.”

Strickler leveled him with a glare as he continued to move the bookcase in front of the last window. “Keep that out of his line of sight,” he waved to Jim, who was in the middle of hanging something on the light fixture of the sitting room. Once Jim had finished, he and Strickler headed up with UV lights to finish the final trap.

I held up one of Draal’s axes as dad tied it up with the pulley. “Looks like we have every entrance covered.”

Garridan nodded, adjusting the cans we hung to alert us to Angor Rot sneaking in through the basement.

Strickler came down with Jim, a snide smirk splitting his face. “I must say, I’m surprised how well we all work together.”

Snarling, dad headed back into the kitchen to check on the traps at the back door. Whatever his bad blood with Strickler is, I’m glad he had enough self-control to keep from ripping his spine out, for aunt Barbara’s sake.

Jim shoved passed Strickler. “I wouldn’t get used to it. We’re still planning on taking you down once this is over.”

Draal smirked, settling on the stairs to sharpen his battle axe. I leaned against the doorway into the sitting room. “Yeah,” I snickered, leveling a glare at Strickler, “if you thought we were pissed about the attempted murder, you have no idea what we’ve got in store now that you dragged mom into this.”

“Noted,” Strickler scoffed, straightening his blazer. “Perhaps, if we get through this, I could talk to my constituents about the Eye of Gunmar.” He smirked, pacing as if he was actually considering this. “I assume you’re still interested in finding the last Triumbric stone?”

“Doesn’t the Janus Order want to free Gunmar? Why would they help you get his eye?” Crossing my arms over my chest plate not believing Strickler could talk them into handing it over.

“Do you even know where it is?” Jim asked, eyeing Strickler.

Strickler waved us off, “Personally, no. However, my ilk are wide and numerous. Not all are members of the Janus Order, your father knows that first hand.” Garridan’s snarl reverberated from the back of the house. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“Why would you help us kill Gunmar?” Jim asked, knowing that without the bridge, Gunmar wasn’t a threat to Strickler, and he wouldn’t have a reason to seek out Gunmar’s death.

Strickler grinned, “Let’s just say, I’m always looking out for my best interests.”

“At the cost of anyone standing in your way?” I snarked. While helpful in the moment, Strickler’s been the biggest pain in the ass we’ve had the displeasure of working with.

Draal huffed at my comment, seeing that first hand over several battles. Checking over the blade as he finished sharpening it, his brow furrowed as he turned to the stairs. “What is that?”

Residing between two posts of the banister was a dark sphere with 3 white rings, looking eerily similar to Angor’s soulless eyes. It shifted around to look at each of us.

“It’s his eye!” Strickler yelped, flinching back at the sight.

“Gunmar’s eye?” Jim looked back at Strickler confused.

“Angor Rot,” I snarled out, summoning Midnight to my hand.

Draal tried to grab the eye but it rolled out of his prosthetic hand and across the floor. We gave chase, trying to catch it before it could escape the house. Spotting it heading for the sink, I let my magic flow as I thought of ice, feeling the jagged coolness. My hand slashed out towards the sink and ice erupted from the drain, blocking the eye’s exit.

Jim quickly grabbed a glass and slammed it over the eye. Once secured, he hid it in a zipper compartment of his bag, keeping it trapped in the dark. “How long has he been watching us?”

Garridan sniffed the air, humming softly, “Unsure, the eye doesn’t give off a scent, it’s possible he’s been here the entire time.”

The front door began to rattle, causing us to freeze. “He’s here!” Jim was the first to move. He donned the armor as he ran to the other side of the door. Strickler grabbed the crossbow and crouched behind one of the barricades. Garridan had his twin swords at the ready, staying in the back of the kitchen and out of sight. Draal ran to the basement to wait as I teleported up the stairs, staying in the shadows though I could clearly see the door.

In walked the last person who should be here, mom. “Hey, kiddos, you home? Wanda messed up my schedule again. Guess I have the day off after all.” She took off her purse, hanging it on the coat rack and setting off the trap.

“Mom!” Jim yelled, running right for her, still in the armor. “Watch out!” He tackled her just as the axe released, barely missing the blade as it struck the door.

Mom yelped, eyes wide when she turned over and saw the axe. “Why is there an axe in the door?”

“Barbara?” Strickler quickly stood up, crossbow still in hand. “Are you alright?”

Jim helped mom to her feet slowly as she took in everything. “I’m fine,” jaw dropping at the barricade, finally taking in Strickler and the crossbow. “Walt? Why are you here? Why do you have a crossbow?”

Beginning to flounder, Strickler tried to hide the crossbow behind him. “Me? Oh, yes. You see, there’s a school project I give Jim and River.” Accidentally pulling the trigger, he shot down the ceiling light.

Having heard glass shatter, Draal’s roar broke through as he charged up from the basement, heading straight for the front door, and mom.

“Draal, don’t!” I yelled, teleporting down in front of him, still very much in my troll form. “It’s just mom!”

Stopping in his tracks as mom began to scream at the sight of us, Draal winced, realizing his mistake. “Um, hello. Sorry.” He tried apologizing.

Mom, still screaming, rummaged through a pocket of her lab coat, pulling out a bottle of pepper spray.

“Mom, wait!” Jim tried to stop her, standing right in front of the bottle as mom pressed the trigger, effectively dowsing all three of us.

I yelled, rubbing at my eyes as the burning set it. “Mom! It’s me!” I could hear Draal yelling before a loud crash. “Jim?”

Jim, able to clear his face first, pushed me away from a still freaking out mom. “Mom, he’s a friend, and yes, this is River!”

“He was a friend,” Strickler’s voice slipped in between mom’s panic, “now, he’s out cold.” A thud sounded as mom finally went quiet. “And so is she.”

Using the bubbles to clear my eyes, I could finally see that a bookshelf had fallen on Draal and mom had collapsed by Jim. “That really could’ve gone better.”

Garridan sighed, having chosen to stay out of sight, “This is going to be more difficult once she wakes up.”

I nodded to him as Jim and Strickler sat mom up against the upturned couch. Checking her over and healing what little bruising the fall had created, I turned my attention to Draal. “If he starts talking about whelps again,” I sighed thinking back to the PyroBligst when Draal had his brain rattled. I pushed the bookshelf off him and focused on healing his concussion. “It’s better we get this over with now, we don’t know when Angor will attack now.”

Garridan sighed, shifting into his troll form and helping me keep Draal’s head stable as I healed him.

Mom began to stir, “Jim?” She asked, finally waking up. As her eyes adjusted, she flinched back catching sight of Draal, dad in his troll form and me. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“Nope,” Jim sighed, getting her a glass of water, “we owe you an explanation.”

“We?” Mom asked, taking the glass, sipping it slowly.

“River and I,” Jim explained, gesturing back to me.

I could hear mom’s breath hitch, fully taking in what Jim said. “That’s River? Our River?”

“Hi, mom,” I looked back over my shoulder, smiling softly. “Surprise?”

Mom stared, taking in my new features before shifting her eyes to Draal and my glowing hands. “What is that? Why are you glowing?”

“Right,” I winced, looking back down to Draal. “Um, well the glowing hands are magic? I’m healing his concussion. He’s Draal and,” I paused, looking up at Garridan for a moment before returning my attention to mom. “Say hi to dad?”

“Healing? Wait,” she paused, realizing what I just said. “Draal? That’s your boyfriend?! Dad? Who’s dad?”

Strickler snickered, “Is that what they’re calling it?”

Garridan snarled at Strickler, before shaking off some of his tension and turning to look mom in the eye. “Long time no see Barbara.”

“Gary?!” She shrieked, looking between his troll form and my own. “Why? How?”

Jim quickly stepped between mom and us, trying to get her back on track. “I’m sorry mom, but maybe we should unpack that later?”

Mom nodded slowly, trying to turn her attention fully to Jim. “Okay, what’s going on? Why is the house covered in traps?”

“Okay, well Draal is a troll, and there’s actually a lot of them. Entire civilizations even. Most of them have been super friendly, but some of them are really bad.” Jim tried to explain, hoping mom would understand. “My job, well, our job,” he smiled back at Draal and I, “is to protect the good trolls and humans from the evil ones, along with other creatures that want to cause anyone and everyone harm.”

Draal let out a groan as he came too, shaking off Garridan’s hold on his head. “Alright, who did that?”

I chuckled sitting back as his eyes focused on us. “Mom’s pepper spray, the hammer you rigged up, and the bookshelf.”

“More water Barbara?” Strickler cut in, holding up a pitcher.

Mom abandoned the glass and took the pitcher, downing the entire thing. “So, let me get this straight. There are good trolls and bad trolls. And somehow, you two? Magic? Your dad?” She asked.

Strickler smiled, slipping into teacher mode, “If I may. There is a vast world beneath our feet, Barbara, and your kids have stirred up a heap of trouble.”

“Watch it,” Garridan growled, pulling Strickler away from us.

Mom sighed, leaning her head in her hands. “This is all so… I can’t believe this is what you two have been doing.”

I slowly scooted over to where she and Jim were sitting, getting ready to be scolded.

“All those late nights, getting arrested, your cuts in the hospital, your burns?” She frowned, looking between us, “Why are you this troll-fighter? Why are you and Gary blue?”

I pulled my hair nervously. “Um, well. Dad wasn’t exactly,” I gestured to her, “human to start with.”

“We are so unpacking all of this later, missy, Gary!” She warned, seeing how uncomfortable I was, but knowing it would need to be discussed. “You two shouldn’t be worried about fighting monsters and trolls. You should be worrying about high school, college, and dating!” She glanced at Draal then shook her head slightly, still not used to seeing his troll form. “Why do you have to do this? Why can’t someone else?”

Jim winced, remembering when he had tried to refuse the amulet in the first place. “It’s not exactly a job I could refuse mom,” he sighed, holding her hand. “Besides, they need me, and I like helping them. We’ve learned a lot from them.”

“Not to mention, Jim’s technically their, well our, protector.” I added, ruffling Jim’s hair.

Draal stood, sniffing the air. “I think it’s time we got her out of,” before he could finish his thought, the cans rigged to the basement entrance began to clang, announcing Angor’s arrival.

“Oh, no!” Jim flinched, turning quickly to the basement entrance. “River, can you get her out of here?”

I shook my head, pulling us behind the barricade. “Not safe, it’s harder to judge distances without the collar and carrying people. Last thing we need is to find out I can teleport to Gatto’s Keep.”

Nodding, Jim directed us to lay low as Angor Rot’s chanting filled the air, an unnatural darkness taking over the house. Jim’s armor dimly glowed as the room got darker.

“Magic thing?” Mom asked, trying to keep a level head.

I eyed the amulet cautiously, I might have stone flesh at the moment, but daylight isn’t exactly troll friendly either.

Draal grasped my wrist lightly, making sure the amulet wasn’t doing anything strange. Nodding once I gave him a thumbs up, letting him know that I was good.

Sparks filled the room, distracting us slightly as Angor Rot began his own ambush.

“Stick to the plan,” Strickler urged, covering mom from lightbulbs shattering above us.

Jim stood, Daylight at the ready. I could hear Angor moving near the front door. I sent a small blast of magic behind him, allowing Jim to see his outline.

Angor pounced, blades connecting with Daylight as he tried to quickly cut Jim down. “The brave are the first to die,” he snarled, shoving Jim back into the barricade.

Jim’s arm began to shake at the strength it took to hold Angor back. “Get her out of here!” He yelled at Strickler, causing the elder changeling to jump into action.

Strickler quickly stood, dragging mom along with him to the basement, having seen the exit when we were setting up the traps. Garridan quickly followed to cover them.

Mom tried to struggle, calling out for Jim and I before Strickler was able to pull her down the stairs.

Draal roared, jumping from behind the barricade, ramming into Angor. Allowing Jim to quickly recover, easily finding a rhythm with Draal fighting by his side.

I rushed from the barricade and grabbed the crossbow Strickler had left behind, waiting until Angor was in the right position. Draal caught on and began herding Angor into the kitchen. The more metal objects in the room, the better.

As he was cornered Angor called Daylight to him and tried to stab Draal, Jim slid under the blade to use his twin glaives, blocking the sword from reaching Draal. “Now!”

I attached the second lodestone to the one on the bolt and quickly aimed for Angor’s head, pulling the trigger.

Snarling, Angor pulled away from Draal and Jim in order to catch the bolt. Once in his hand, a sadistic grin split his face. “You’ll have to be faster than that.”

I smirked as the knives and pans began to tremble before shooting across the room, straight for Angor, the fridge quickly joined the rest of the metal slamming into him.

Snarling as he ripped through the fridge, Angor tried freeing himself from the pile. Strickler ran to the kitchen in his troll form pulling Jim and I back before Angor could pounce, Draal clearing the way back to the stairs.

“Let’s put this mad dog down,” he snarled, feather blades at the ready as we retreated.

Angor hot on our heels, lashed out, grabbing my ankle and dragging me back down the stairs. “You’ll die first, witch!”

Before I could react, Garridan had rushed up behind Angor and slammed the hutch over him, loosening his grip on me. “Go!”

I nodded, scrambling up the stairs, Strickler, Jim and dad splitting off to Jim’s room as Draal and I entered my own. We hunkered down and waited, listening as Angor clawed his way up the stairs. The fire trap we had set up in the bathroom was set off. He was slowly getting closer.

After a moment we could hear Strickler and Jim speaking. I sighed in relief as I grabbed the collar, putting it back on and letting the glamour take over. “Sounds like they caught him.”

“What’s that noise?” Draal asked, a familiar scream growing louder.

“Mom!” I yelped, Draal and I ran out of the room to see Jim helping mom down the stairs.

“Help Strickler, I’ll get her out,” Jim ordered, knowing if Angor killed Strickler, mom was done for.

Snarling I ran into the room, the amount of raw magic flowing to my hands causing the flesh to burn. “LET HIM GO!” I slammed my left fist into Angor, the blast causing him to break through the wall and land in my room, the painting of the Eldritch Queen falling over him.

Garridan readied his swords, “I’ll buy you time, get them out of here!”

I turned grabbing onto Draal and Strickler, teleporting us to the car as Jim was getting mom in the back seat. “Dad’s holding him off. Draal, hold on to the top. Strickler, can you drive in your condition?”

Strickler arched a brow in confusion before spotting my bloodied and burnt hands. “Motivated enough, I can do anything.”

“River, what happened? Where’s Gary?” Mom croaked out, seeing the blood.

Shaking my head, I got into the passenger seat. “I’ll be fine, you focus on resting. Once we get somewhere safe, I’ll take a look at those cuts. He’s,” I paused at the thought of Garridan holding Angor back, “we’ll see him later.” I tried to smile, hoping he’d be able to survive an angry and desperate Angor Rot on his own.

“Trollmarket, can you teleport us inside with the collar on?” Jim asked as Strickler started the car, driving for the canal.

I winced, making sure Draal was staying on the car. “It’s too far and there’s too many of us, call Tobes.”

Jim fished out his phone, contacting Toby right away. “Tobes! Get the horngazel and open a doorway! Car-sized!”

“Incoming!” Draal snarled, spotting Angor Rot giving chase.

As he jumped over the rooftops, Angor Rot sent out orbs of dark magic, exploding as they neared the car causing Strickler to swerve.

Growling, I grabbed Midnight, ignoring the pain in my hands to the best of my ability. I kicked the door off of the car as I let the glamour fall again, focusing my mana directly into Midnight. Hanging out the door, I waited for Angor to jump again and slashed out horizontally. Midnight sent out a wave of daylight directly at the roof where Angor was trying to land, causing him to falter and drop between the houses instead, further slowing him.

Strickler turned down the dirt path that we use to get to the canals. “This is gonna get bumpy!” He warned as we neared the jump.

Barely avoiding a tree, I crammed my troll form back into the car, “You okay up there?”

Draal snarled, spitting out branches as his face took a few hits. “Remind me to punch him if we break that damned spell!”

“Noted!” I yelped as the car flew down into the canal, we could see the marks of the horngazel as Toby was trying to make a portal.

Angor’s roar reverberated over the concrete, though if the portal opened, he’d be too far to catch us at this point.

“Go for it!” Jim yelled, praying that Toby would open the portal in time.

Strickler winced, slamming on the gas pedal and heading straight for the concrete wall of the bridge. “Please be an opening!”

Draal hunkered down as low as he could, the height of the portal barely missing his horns as we crashed through the concrete, flying down the crystal staircase.

With the lack of traction, Strickler quickly lost control of the car. We flew by trolls in the streets, most of which were able to jump out of the way. Draal grunted, hands sliding into the back windows as he slipped off of the car, digging his feet into the rocky path to slow us down.

We barely stopped just below the Heartstone.

Jim gathered mom in his arms, rushing out towards Vendel’s study. “We need help! We need Vendel!”

#river of arcadia #draal x oc #draal x river #tales of arcadia fanfiction #tales of arcadia #angor management #episode 25 #River Marie Wyllt #River Marie Lake

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eupheme · 2 years

Text

Sweet Summer Lemonade

Jim Hopper x F!Reader

Rated E - 7.8k

Tags: dub-con (because of sex pollen) (but with very mutual attraction), use of alcohol and cigarettes, age gap, mentions of death, fingering, oral sex (f rec.), size kink, PiV, mult. orgasms, grump + sunshine, mutual pining, loose pov

Summary:

“So… you and the chief, huh?”

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

“Uh huh.” Murray answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

(Or - when you go to Murray’s for some help, you end up with a little more than you bargained for)

Your nose crinkles as the truck finally slows to a halt on the packed-dirt path, just outside the industrial-sized garage door. Debris lines the concrete building, a busted office chair, turned on its side - mechanical parts cushioned against the tall, barbed-wire fence by overgrown tufts of knee-high grass.

“You sure this is the right place?” Your words are directed slowly at Hopper, throwing your shoulder into the door as you open it - the old hinges creaking with the effort.

He’s already out of the truck, the piece of paper crumpled in his hand, shoving it into the back pocket of his light jeans, “This is it.”

Here goes, you think, making for the door, but a hand is catching your elbow, dragging you back. Glancing back at the frown on Hopper’s face, as he leans down to your level, letting you go so his hands can brace on his thick thighs.

“You stick close to me,” His voice is low and hushed, a rough edge to it, “And don’t touch anything inside unless I say so. Got that?”

Annoyance prickles at you - you were in the tunnels last year, same as the rest, and you had come out just fine. Whoever this man was had to be a cakewalk in comparison. He didn’t need to pull the macho-cop act, you weren’t a teenager like the others.

“Nancy said he was nice.” You counter, lifting your sunglasses, perching them on top of your head as you fix him with a look.

The crease between his forehead deepens, the edges of his lips turning down, “Just do what I tell you, okay?”

Your head tilts, his eyebrow raises in response. And fuck - the way he’s seeming to loom over you, big and broad, prickles at you in a different kind of way.

“Fine.” You blink, averting your eyes.

“Good.” He straightens, giving you one last weary look before heading to the front door.

Secretly, you had been hoping this trip would be a little more... interesting. For weeks now, the two of you have been exchanging lingering looks, finding half-hearted excuses to move just a little bit closer.

And when this short trip had come up, you had jumped at the opportunity. Because of the reason it was being taken, of course - and selfishly, for the chance to spend a little more time with him.

But so far today... nothing.

Unless you count the brush of an elbow against yours as it sat on the armrest. Not exactly the steamy encounter you had daydreamed about.

His fist raps a pattern on the rusted metal door, once - twice. Finally, a face peeking out as it cracks open, the room behind dim, curtains pulled tight.

The man’s face pulling downward when he sees who it is, eyes narrowing behind glasses, mouth twisting, "Oh, not you.”

Hopper's foot quickly jamming in the space, preventing it from shutting all the way, “We need to talk to you. It’s about what happened.”

There’s a long pause before the man nods - Hopper’s foot pulling back so the door can shut, the chain latch undone before it opens again.

You follow behind into the house, the inside not a far cry from the outside. But it’s fascinating in a way, the wall of televisions, the man himself - an old robe worn open like a cardigan over a tight white tank, grey sweats.

“Thank you, Mr. Bauman.” You step around Hopper, your hand extended, “We’re hoping you might be able to help us, please.”

Murray’s eyebrows lift when he sees you, the downturned edge of his lip kicking up, “And who is this?”

His handshake is firm, and you smile as you give your name, explaining, “One of Hopper’s friends.”

“Hm. Didn’t think the old grump had any friends,” He gives Hopper a sidelong look, Hopper’s hands jamming in his pockets as he scowls back.

“Just in case you were wondering, that is how you ask for help,” Murray tells him, amusing himself, before he turns back to you, “What can I do for you, sunshine?”

Throwing a look at Hopper for confirmation, you start, “Well, we wanted to see if you still had the original copy of the tape Nancy and Jonathan brought you.”

“Something is happening again,” Hopper cuts in, easing himself into the circle of conversation, arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe with the gate, maybe with El. We wanted to see exactly what they said.”

Murray shoots both of you a puzzled look, “Why’d you come out this way? Can’t you just ask them?”

You fidget, the same thing already discussed in the car. Hopper handles this one again, ”We don’t want to cause any… unnecessary panic. If we ask either, it’s going to spread. We want to do our own digging first.”

Murray thinks about that, plucking the glasses from his face, polishing them slowly on the edge of his robe.

“Please Mr. Bauman?” You ask, your hands clasped in front of you, the sound of your words drowning out Hopper’s annoyed grunt.

“God, please - Mr. Bauman was my father. It’s just Murray.” He looks back up after a long pause, slowly nodding, “But, fine. I can make you a copy. Have to find it first, but I will.”

Your answering smile is relieved - how long could that possibly take?

———

The three of you have been searching for hours now, sifting through beat-up boxes of hastily-labeled tapes in one of the side rooms, taking turns checking possibilities.

It’s slow going - you were quickly relieved of checking duty after you found a tape that leaned towards the illicit. Gasping as Hopper moved in front of you to shut off the high-pitched, recorded moans as he growled out a “Jesus Christ Bauman, she doesn’t need to hear that.”

“It was research for a story!” Murray had insisted, rolling his eyes, hands spread wide.

Now, you were on sorting duty, making stacks for Hopper to check, sweat beading on your brow as you dug through the piles. Even with the drapes drawn, hiding the summer sun, it was warm in the stuffy house - the nearest fan just out of reach as it rotates slowly.

Finally giving up, your arms stretching over your head as you rise, winding your way over to where Murray was working on his own stack.

“Murray, is it okay if I grab something to drink?” Your palm fans your face, the slight gust of air barely soothing the heat.

“Sure, sunshine. Help yourself,” He wipes his own brow, glancing up from his place on the floor. “I’m almost done. Grab a glass for me, too.”

The single bulb flickers in the kitchen, an ancient fridge tucked between two countertops. You revel in the blast of cool air as you open the door, stooping to peer inside.

It’s relatively clean, the shelves clear on one side, jars and condiments lining the other. There’s some beer cans half-way back and you reach for one, dragging it out. When you go to grab another, your fingers knock against a rounded glass bottle, the label curled and worn.

It wobbles dangerously, the cap loose on the narrow neck. The liquid inside - a thick, viscous pink - sloshes onto your knuckles as you catch it with the back of your hand. Trapping it between another container before you carefully nudge it upright.

Your hand withdraws, setting the second can on the counter before you bring it to your nose. The bright residue smells like summer, fresh fruit. Sticky sweet and cloying.

Without thinking, you taste it, licking up the drop that tracked across your knuckles. It seems to soak into your tongue, the taste almost familiar. Reminding you vaguely of the prickly pear lemonade you had on vacation a couple years ago.

Bright and sweet as bubblegum, the tart bite tickling your throat as you swallowed. No worries back then - just summer and sunshine ahead.

You blink, a funny tingling on your tongue, the rest rinsed off in the sink - dried on the dingy dishtowel.

The crisp crack of the can opening is music to your ears. The beer is cheap but you’re not complaining, it’s cool going down your throat - the can pressed against your forehead after you swallow.

Murray joins you a minute later, and you offer him the second can, but he shakes his head.

“Should have specified,” He tells you, dragging a bottle from the freezer, filling the bottom third of a glass.

Drinking the vodka like it’s water, nose scrunching as he swallows. You side-eye him, as you against the counter, elbows pressing against the stained laminate.

Taking your own sip much more slowly, his head turning to look at you.

“Helps me think.” Murray offers, though you weren’t about to ask. There’s a long pause, before his head tilts, “So… you and the chief, huh?”

You choke on the mouthful, coughing as you swallow. Hopper had warned you that he was blunt - a good guy, but not one to mince words.

But it’s almost refreshing, after the passive aggressive tip-toeing around you so often get at work. Right to the point, nice and neat.

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

Facing him, you miss the way Hopper’s head tilts in your direction as he listens to a new tape, eyes dragging slow over the cocked curve of your hips - but Murray does not.

“Uh huh.” He answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

You wonder if he’s teasing you, or if he knows something you don’t.

The prospect makes your heart thud, a wishful anticipation in your chest as you answer, “Well, I don’t really know. Sometimes I think there’s something, and then other times he doesn’t notice me at all.”

Not telling him that a part of you thinks he’s hung up on someone else. And the worst part is you get it, it makes sense - they have all that history. And you’re just tripping after him like a lost little puppy.

“Jim’s a pretty direct guy.” Murray interrupts your thoughts, and your answering nod is slow, a little unsure of his meaning.

A pause - before he pats your shoulder, draining the rest of his glass, “Just something to think about.”

Okay, I guess, you think - finishing the remnants of your own drink, finding what looked like a recycling bin for the empty can. After a moment, taking the extra beer you had grabbed over to Hopper. Offering it to him wordlessly as you lean over the back of the couch, next to his shoulder.

He takes it, a thankful curve to his lips, fingers overlapping yours as his hand wraps around the can. For a second, you almost forget to let go - too focused on the way your skin seems to buzz under the brush of his fingertips.

“Thought you forgot about me.” He nods towards the kitchen, cracking it open with a hiss.

You watch the bob of his throat as he swallows, a curl of heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks. Trying to keep your voice from sounding too much like a sigh when you reply, “Never.”

Clearing your throat, trying to keep on track, “Any luck?”

“Not sure. Think we’re getting close though, these are from the same time.” He sighs, leaning back against the cushion, arm trailing along the back - swapping the tape out for another.

The voice that plays from this one is familiar - the recoding caught mid-sentence.

“-you mean without shutting us up?-”

You’re grabbing at his arm, swinging around the edge of the couch to take the seat next to him. Leaning into him to listen, “Wait, wait, that’s it!”

His eyes flash to yours, the recording playing just long enough to confirm it. A relieved smile flashing across his face, before his arm drops to curl around you - a squeezing half-hug of victory.

The tape is handed off to Murray to make a copy, and you stay selfishly seated on the couch. Nothing to do but wait until the copy is made, the edge of his arm still brushing your shoulders.

But the more you sit - the denser the air feels, humid and sticky hot. Your pulse seems to thud in your ears, a steady, dull pattern.

“Is it warm in here?” You ask idly, fingers plucking at the neck of your sundress, peeling it back to get some air against your skin, “Like, more than before?”

He frowns, his eyes averting when you glance his way, his legs shifting, “It’s warm. But it’s cooler than outside, that’s for sure.”

It doesn’t seem that way to you - you’re not sure how he’s able to wear jeans in this heat, even with the beachy, button-up shirt. The sleeves stretch tight across his biceps as his arms cross, your eyes slow to pull away as he adds, “Maybe you just need some fresh air.”

You nod - that makes sense, and you silently wish for Murray to hurry up, as much as you’re enjoying the current seating arrangements.

Now that the tape has been found, copying it goes quickly, the audio conversation as short as it was. Hopper tucking the tape into his shirt pocket, patting his chest as you push yourself to your feet.

It takes an effort, your limbs feeling not quiet coordinated. Your mind a little fuzzy, skin buzzing and tilting towards oversensitive. Maybe the beer wasn’t as cheap as you thought - maybe it was your empty stomach.

Hopper’s eyes narrow when he notices the slight sway in your posture, as Murray not-so-subtly herds you towards the front door. You still manage a thank you, and even a hug that you’re surprised that he accepts, “Thank you for helping us, it means a lot.”

“You’re both welcome back anytime.” Murray tells you cheerfully, the words almost cut off as the door shuts, the latch chain sliding into place immediately.

Leaving the two of you alone, blinking into the sunlight - the slight breeze welcome on your face. You’re still looking dazedly at the door when Hopper’s hand brushes your back, a gentle nudge towards the truck.

His words slow, eyeing you as you start to move, “Let’s get you in the truck”.

You’re compliant, unprotesting as he opens the door, climbing in. Slumping against the seats rolling the window down as he gets in on the other side.

The truck roars to life, reversing out of the lot, dirt kicking up from the driveway as he pulls back onto the main road.

Time seems to lose its meaning as the miles tick down, you’re not sure if it’s been minutes or an hour - the heat in your face and neck starting to feel like it’s moving downwards.

It should be a moment to remember, just the two of you, a beautiful summers day. A warm breeze on your face as the radio rolls through favorites - Springsteen, Rolling Stones, Tom Petty. Songs you know by heart sounding faded as thoughts you kept buried deep inside push to the surface.

Sideways glances that linger a hair too long, eyes drifting over his light, patterned shirt. The extra couple buttons popped at the neck, the coarse hair beneath.

The thick muscle of his arms, large hands that you think would span the space between your shoulder and jaw. The perfect size to cup your face. Fingers drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.

You like looking at his hands, thinking about what they could do. How they would feel. On you. Maybe even in you.

The path of your gaze slowly shifts downwards-

You blink - catching yourself, eyes facing forward again. Going rigid as you recognize the curl of arousal in your guts, where the heat has settled. Stronger than you’ve felt before - the aching need for pleasure so sharp it almost hurts.

“You okay, kid?” He breaks the silence, “You’re usually talking my ear off.”

The nickname is unintentional - it’s one he’s picked up from his time looking after El. You know this but it still bristles at you, a dull ache in your stomach causing your words to come out snappish, “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh,” he draws the word out with a scoff, “What, would you prefer ‘sunshine’?”

He’s being petty, defensive - glancing your way with brows pulled low, expression changing when he sees the way you’re sitting, tense and uncomfortable.

You flinch when his hand reaches across, the back of his palm brushing your forehead. Something blooms in your stomach, and you have to fight back a moan at his touch, the feeling between your legs almost like a pulse.

“Jesus, sweetheart.” He’s frowning, eyes darting your way, “You’re burning up. We need to get you home.”

All you can do is nod, your face pressing against the glass again - trying to ignore the instinct to press your thighs together.

———

It’s become almost unbearable by the time you find yourself among familiar roads - the long winding dirt path through the woods to the cabin. Somewhere along the drive, Hopper had offered to take you home, but his was a good 15 minutes closer.

You just needed some water, to sit down for a moment. You were sure it was nothing.

He shifts into park, legs taking him around to your door before you can fumble with the handle. Almost knocking the old wooden door off the hinges as he ushers you inside - the water still lukewarm from the tap as you gulp it down from a glass.

It soothes some of the heat that warms your face, but not the one that roils in your guts. You can’t hold back the groan that wracks your chest, hand splaying across your lower belly.

His hands almost feel cool on your cheeks as he cups them, worry clouding his blue eyes as he angles your face up to look at him.

“How are you feeling? Talk to me, baby.” He coaxes.

“Hurts.” You manage, blinking as you try to concentrate.

“Where?”

Silently, your hand slips lower, until it’s all but cupping your mound. The slightest brush of fingers making your eyes flutter shut, a soft needy groan falling from your lips.

Hopper goes still, unable to breath. Not even knowing what to say for a moment - trying to come up with something, anything, to help figure it out.

“Uh- did you take anything today? Try anything funny this morning?” He stammers, and your eyes flicker open.

A small shake to your head. And then, you pause, remembering.

“At Murray’s. I-It was pink. I didn’t mean to.” You tell him, and he’s nodding - it’s not much, but it’s something.

Leading you to the couch, your body slumping onto it as he heads for the phone. Digging through his pockets for the scrap of paper, silently hoping that Murray will actually pick up.

Your hands wander on their own, brushing across your thighs, up, and then up. A pad of your finger pressing against the thin cloth covering your clit, and fuck - it feels good. Maybe the best you’ve ever felt.

But somewhere in the fog, you know the couch is not the place to do this. With an effort you push yourself up, his eyes flicking worriedly to your wobbling gait as the phone rings.

The bathroom door creaking shut behind you - the wood muffling your moans as your fingers press against yourself again. Easing the ache, just for a moment.

His fingers wrap around the phone cord until it hurts - eyes trained on the closed door, foot tapping as he waits for answer.

“Hello?” Finally there’s a voice on the other end, and Hopper feels like he could strangle him.

“Murray? Jim.” He barks out, not waiting for a reply. “Something is wrong, she’s not doing well. Said she had something pink at your house.”

There’s a beat, before he’s cursing - his questions not quite making sense, “Jesus Christ. She didn’t, right? When did-?”

“What was it?” Hopper interrupts, his voice firm and low, one that he always seems to pull out during his interrogations.

“Let me think. I need to make sure.” There’s a crackle on the other end, the words chosen carefully. “How is she? What are her symptoms?”

Hopper blinks, “Uh, hot. Forehead is really warm. She seems distracted.”

“She um, said it hurts.” Not knowing how to word the next part, heat creeping across his own face, “Down there.”

He makes a face as he waits, scrubbing a palm across his forehead, and there’s an agonized groan on the other end.

“Okay. Can you ask her how much she had?”

His patience is running thin, worry and anger making his chest feel tight, “What the hell was it?”

Another beat of silence.

“It’s an… aphrodisiac. I was doing a story on it.”

He had the phone pressed so close to his ear that it creaks in his grip, “A what?”

“You know…” Murray hedges, and then sighs. “The tape you heard? The one that pissed you off so much? That was part of my research.”

Hoppers mouth feels dry, remembering the lewd, rhythmic moans. The word clicking into place in his mind, things starting to make a little more sense.

“Does it go away?”

“That’s why you need to ask her.” His tone turns serious, “You need to, right now.”

With a frustrated sigh, he sets the phone on the side table, crossing the room to the bathroom. Knocking, then calling out for you.

Listening, not meaning to hear your panting breaths, the stifled moans sliding out from between your teeth. He doesn’t mean to picture what you’re doing either - but the images pop into his mind, his fist tightening around the door handle.

Inappropriate. Get it together.

“Sweetheart?” He calls out, and he hears your sounds stutter. He hopes your listening, “The pink stuff. How much did you have?”

A moment as you think, the words slow from your lips, “Just a bit. It spilled on my hand.”

He’s back on the phone a second later, “She said just a little bit.”

“Thank god.” There’s a sigh on the other end, but Hopper doesn’t know what there is to sigh about, “I didn’t want to tell you, but the reason I was doing the story was a couple guys took too much. It uh, turns out it can cause cardiac arrest.”

The implication hangs in the air - he wants to ask more, but fears the answer. Murray presses on, “But if she just took a little, she should be okay. She needs to…”

There’s a pause as he sucks in a breath, “She needs to work through it to make it go away.”

“Work through it?” He echoes, brows furrowing.

“Yes. If she doesn’t, it hurts like hell. I tried it myself, just once.” Murray confesses, his voice low, “Drank some like a shot. It took twelve hours to go away. I was chafed red, Jim. Red.”

Hopper makes a face at the overshare, lips pulling down over clenched teeth, “That’s disgusting.”

“That’s what happens.” Murray answers firmly, “I’m just telling you, you might have to help her. Or find her help - don’t let her go through that pain.”

He doesn’t know what to think about that either. Doesn’t even want to think about it, helping you. Not like this, not when you’re not in your right mind.

The next call is quick, just to cover his bases - a call to the school. A message for El, asking is she can spend time with Max tonight. Hopefully you didn’t need the twelve hours, but he had no idea what to expect, or if he could move you.

Then the back of his knuckles are rapping on the door again, three short, sharp knocks. He calls your name, listening - his mind going a mile a minute. Opening the door when he hears you say his name, the two syllables drawn out in a soft whine.

Even with what he knows now, he’s unprepared. The bathroom in his cabin had always been small - barely enough room to squeeze in a tub, a toilet, the chipped sink with a mirror.

Small enough that he’s hit with the scent of your shampoo, perfume. Then, the sweet musk of your arousal, completely unmistakable. Combining into something that made his pants feel tight, his breath catching in his throat.

Pheromones, maybe - something he saw once on a nature documentary. Murray didn’t warn him about that part. His back sags against the door as he closes it.

Fuck, he can’t do this.

He’s already thinking things he shouldn’t be - because he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you. That your sugar-sweet smiles and nudges are the same you give everyone else.

Trying on occasion to put some distance. An act of self-preservation - he’s always been shit at love. Always on the wrong side. But then you drag him back in. Bright and stunning and blinding.

Sunshine in human form, after all.

You’re sitting, back against the wall - tucked in the far corner, opposite the tub. Elbows resting on spread knees, your dress dipping down between the soft curves of your thighs. The navy blue flash of panties as you shift, the light glinting off the wet gleam of your fingers has his eyes darting away - flushing as he clears his throat.

Your eyes glassy as you look up at him, the way he fills the doorway - even bigger and broader than usual from your spot on the floor. Another sharp throb shoots through you, and you moan out loud.

His brow furrows, and then he’s moving, crouching down to your level. Fingers reaching out to brush your forehead again, your skin burning hot against his fingers.

“Talked to Murray. You drank some experiment he’s been working on. Says you need to, uh-” His hand rubs the back of his neck - lacking the eloquence of his new friend, completely out of his depth. “Finish. To get rid of the uh, symptoms.”

This close, the throbbing increases, twisting in your guts into you ache. The smell of leather, tobacco, aftershave sending another pulse down your spine, your thighs pressing together in an attempt for release.

Your nod is sluggish, the fingers twitching again, “I tried, Hop. I can’t-”

“Is there… someone I can call for you?” His voice is gruff, trying as hard as he can to think with his brain and not with his cock, “A…boyfriend, an ex?”

There’s a thud as your head tilts back against the wall, as you fix him with a long look.

“Is my flirting really that terrible?” You ask, with a huff of a laugh that borders on delirious.

There’s a long pause as Hoppers mind trips to catch up, to interpret your words.

“Nevermind.” The smile that stretches your lips is resigned, your chest heaving in a panting breath as your hand waves dismissively, “That wasn’t fair of me to say. Just forget it, I’ll be okay, Hop. Really.”

“Wait, back up.” Hopper’s hands raise, his voice taking on an edge, “What the hell does that mean?”

Each word feels like an effort now, your tongue feeling heavy, your heart thudding between your thighs, “It means-, it means the person I’d want to call is… you.”

There’s silence for a long, agonizing moment.

“You don’t want me,” He rasps out, eyes flickering between your half-lidded ones, the glossy sheen of your parted lips where your tongue had flicked over them. “It’s the drug. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Jim.” The name punches out from your chest, your eyes locking onto his, the pretty splash of blue, “It’s not. I’ve always wanted you.”

Realization making him sway - the wooden floor crashes into his knees as he rocks forward. His head ducking down as you push yourself up to meet him.

A whimpering moan that shoots straight to his cock when your mouth meets his, one of his thick arms curling around, a palm pressing flat against your back. Your tongue already swiping at his lower lip, pressing closer until your breasts are crushed against the wide barrel of his chest.

His hands dropping, as he groans in response - cupping the globes of your ass, your thighs opening further for him as he yanks you up and onto his lap.

Fingers fly to the meat of his broad shoulders for balance, the fabric of your dress bunching under roaming hands. A clashing of teeth and tongues as you devour each other, your panting gasps as your core bumps into contact with the thick curve of his jeans.

Electricity flickering down your spine, a seam catching on your clit. The burning in your core turning into something closer to relief. Your hips jerk again to chase the sensation, just as a hand comes up to palm at your breast, the tight peak of your nipple.

“Hopper,” You’re moaning into his mouth, your fingers fisted in his shirt, trying to tug him even closer. Hips rolling, grinding down against the thick curve of his jeans, “Please.”

His last ounce of self-control leeching from him as he accepts what you’re asking. What you’re needing from him.

Begging, even - something he’s only ever dreamed about.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He promises, shifting - your thighs wrapping around his waist, a low whine from your throat as he tries to move.

Hopper gives up on untangling your limbs, instead pushes himself unsteadily to his feet; your arms encircling his shoulders. Lips dropping to his neck, pressing against skin.

Walking you through the door, until he can drop you onto his bed. You scoot backwards to make room for him as he lowers himself down next to you, crowding you closer to the cabin wall.

Fingers trailing up your shin, your thighs falling open, just as your eyes shut with another cramp of discomfort. Halting at your thigh, at the curving hem of your dress.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning over you, letting you call the shots the best he can.

“Touch me.” You beg, hand reaches for his, dragging it up between your thighs. Hips rocking into his fingers when they press down against your core.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, feeling the damp cotton, your own hand going limp at your side as his flatten, rubbing at the fabric.

His other hand pushing your skirt up to your hips. Letting himself look now, the dark, wet stain of your panties under his fingers. Realizing they were never navy in color - the soft fabric cutting across your hips a light, sky blue. So similar to the shade of his eyes.

Your hips buck again, and his fingers slide beneath the fabric, slipping against soaked skin and soft curls. Another fresh wave of relief, pleasure curling over the pain, your fingers twisting around the pillow behind your head.

“Jesus. You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He grits out, fingers sliding up until they bump against the swollen bud of your clit, your response no more than a whimper.

Stroking against you, again and again - his fingers slick with your arousal. Sliding easily over your skin, making small, messy circles that have your breath catching in your throat.

A litany of pleas and moans falling from your lips, soft “oh, god-” mixing with his name. The sweet build of pleasure barreling down as his fingers touch you.

He’s impatient, the tight fabric limiting his movements, blocking the pretty sight of your pussy from his vision. The thumb of his other hand hooks on your waistband, tugging it down your thighs - your hips grinding into his hand as they rise to help.

A rough exhale of breath, the word “fuck” ground out through gritted teeth. Torn between wanting to keep going just like this - and knowing if you wanted more, that he’d have to use his fingers somewhere else.

His hand shifts, thumb rubbing over your clit, the middle sliding down, pressing against your entrance. Glancing at you for your nod before it sinks in, his fingers so much thicker and longer than your own.

Pressing down to the knuckle before withdrawing, starting a slow thrust that stretches you out. He’s so fucking hard, cock straining in his pants as he watches his finger disappear into you, your pussy so warm and tight around him. Thinking about how you’d feel wrapped around his fat cock, how good you’d feel coming on it.

Biting back a groan as he adds another, your own low whine as they press deep, finally itching at the ache of needing to be filled. Your words are slurred with drunk pleasure, your brain a messy fog.

“Make me come, Hop. Please-“

Fingers curling, each thrust of his wrist a loud, wet squelch in the small cabin. He shines with you, coating his fingers, leaking onto your inner thighs.

“I will baby, I promise.” He coaxes, trying to remember how it goes, fingers dragging against your inner walls until he feels you clench down around him, a ragged gasp in your throat.

His eyes flickering up again to yours, doing it again, again - watching the way your breaths grow shorter, tension coiling in your thighs.

The small rocking of your hips as you chase the movements of his thrusts, fucking yourself on his fingers, the soft pants of breath as you moan out “please” again and again.

Hopper shifts, pushing himself up - though you’re too close, too far gone to notice. Your eyes shut are shut, concentrating, when there’s the swirl of something hot and wet and soft against your skin.

Better than his thumb, eyes cracking open to see the way he bends over you, the pink flick of tongue as it presses against you, a low groan as he tastes you.

The scratch of his mustache, sending goosebumps across your skin. When his lips kiss against your clit and then suck, it becomes your undoing.

Unable to form words as the blinding pleasure peaks, instant relief flooding your system as you find your release. Soaking his fingers and tongue with a hoarse cry, limbs trembling with the effort.

The sounds you make when you come are prettier than he’s ever imagined - loud, panting moans, the heave of your breasts, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut in concentration.

Tight as hell around his fingers, he swears he can feel each pulse, the thud of your heartbeat in your clit as his tongue presses against it.

Devouring you until you finally go limp, before sliding his fingers from you. Bringing them to his mouth, unable to resist tasting the release that coats his fingers.

The sweet tang of your cunt as he sucks them clean, a low groan as his hips shift, pressing against the mattress.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, the fog starting to wane with each throb, though the desire still remained. The immediate pain quelled, but the deep ache of want and need was still burning in your veins.

Pushing yourself up, grasping at his shoulders until he’s hovering over you - your mouth tilting to meet his. His mouth tasting like you when your tongue darts against his, the rumbling groan as your hips shift up to rub against him.

“Thank you,” you moan into his mouth, and he almost wants to laugh, if the situation hadn’t been so disconcerting.

The thought about being thanked for something he’d dreamed about doing, never thinking he’d get the chance to bury his face between your legs.

He kisses you until you feel dizzy, until your hips are moving again, the damp spot darkening on the front of his jeans.

“More,” you break the kiss to beg, plucking at the buttons of his shirt, revealing inches of skin, greedily soaking him in.

“You need more or you want more?” He asks, hand curving to cup your jaw - a perfect fit, just like you imagined.

Lips feeling kiss-swollen as they scrape against the stubble of his jaw, down to his neck. Feeling the thud of his own pulse, “Both.”

He groans, loud and low, letting you tug at his belt, fingers working open the button. Hips shifting into your hand as you cup the hard bulge, your other hand tugging at the zipper.

A noise of disappointment as he rolls off you, the smallest hint of a smirk as he rids himself of his pants, boxers, “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

And he is, your fingers skating over his thick shaft, barely able to circle around it. It’s big, the fat head glistening with a bead of precum, and it smears across your thighs as he settles between them.

You wiggle against him, lining your hips up, but his hands are gripping onto your waist to hold you still.

“Easy, baby. Gonna hurt yourself.”

Taking a moment, his fist wrapping around the base. Sliding himself against you, you body flexing against the hand still holding you as he lines himself up.

Making sure he’s soaked with you before he starts to press in. Eyes bouncing between your face, trying to see if it’s too much, and unable to resist seeing the tip disappear into you, stretching you wide.

Your moan breaks his concentration, the feeling of him splitting you open almost too much. He feels even bigger than you imagined - making room for himself as he nudges into you. Stealing your breath with every small flex of his hips.

So much of him still left as he carefully thrusts his hips forward, the delicious slide of his cock against your walls before he withdraws. Breath heavy as he does it again, each time sinking a little deeper into you.

Almost flush now, his hands on your hips again. Keeping you pressed to the bed so you don’t try to take too much. Perhaps also to keep himself in check as well.

It’s overwhelming, how warm and tight you are around him. Squeezing him already, even with your come coating his cock, slicking him up. He’s afraid to move, thinking that if he starts thrusting, starts fucking you - that this will be over before it’s started.

His lips part as you wiggle against him again, trying to ignore your pretty pleas. The rough gravel of his voice drowning your sighs out, “Hold on, baby. I just need a minute.”

Fingers flexing against your skin, where the flesh pillows between them. But you need more, and you take matters into your own hands.

Your hand slides down, one lingering at your breast, cupping and squeezing the soft skin, pinching at a nipple. Sending a jolt racing down your spine as your other hand follows, drifting until you’re brushing between your thighs again.

Some of your wits now back, maybe enough that you can get yourself off - just like this.

Eyes on his, watching him watch how the tip of one circles your clit. The small rock of your hips that just barely causes him to move, buried in you. But it’s enough.

Your head tilting back as you set a pace, rolling your hips, again - again. Touching yourself, his name peppered in with the panting of your breath.

“Hopper, oh my god-“

And finally he finds his voice, fingers so tight you think they’ll leave bruises. The words skittering across your skin, as his head tilts up to yours, words coaxing, “That’s right sweetheart. Take what you need.”

Eyes fluttering open as the pleasure builds again as pressing your fingers harder, circling faster.

He’d been worrying about you dying earlier - just for a moment. Now he’s worrying about himself, heart pounding in his chest, listening to each little mewling gasp from your lips as you use him.

Fucking yourself with shallow thrusts on his cock, your pretty face screwed up in concentration. Each breath growing shorter and shorter - he can feel you starting to tense underneath him, the clench of your pussy around him as you squeeze in anticipation.

Keeping himself still, letting you get off on him - thinking that he’ll throw you off your rhythm if he moves, desperately wanting to see how it feels when you come on his cock.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Your eyes all but roll shut as your release hits you. The heavy shudder of your body, surprising him with the sharp jerk of your hips. Taking him even deeper - almost all the way as you flutter around him.

Even better than how you felt on his tongue, better than he’s imagined. The sounds you make louder and rougher when you’re stuffed full of him - as he lowers himself down, hands easing off you.

Letting you wrap your arms around his shoulders, face buried in his neck as you drift back down. Holding you until your hips stop moving - waiting until you relax before he slips from you.

You frown, not understanding until he rising up, nudging at your hips. Giving you room to flip over, his palm warm as it slides down your back.

“Hands and knees, baby.”

Wobbling only a little as you push yourself to your knees, back curving as your torso slips back down, pressing against the mattress.

Shifting until your ass rests flush against his front, letting you feel the thick curve of him pressing against your swollen lips.

“You want more sweetheart?” He asks, a thrust of his hips nudging his cock against you. “Or are you all worn out?”

Again putting the choice in your hands, though he wants nothing more to bury himself in your tight cunt again and fuck you proper.

“More.” You sigh, pressing back against him. Feeling and sounding more lucid - the desire more firmly situated in your thoughts, feelings, rather than chemical stimulation, “Want you to fuck me, Hopper.”

“Yeah?” He growls out, thumbs digging into the curve where your ass meets your thighs, spreading you wide.

“Yeah.” You confirm, the word turning into a moan when you feel the tip press against you again, and then he’s slowly sliding back in.

It’s still a stretch, even though you’ve already taken him, the angle so much different. He can see so much more like this, the tension strung tight in your back and shoulders, your fingers fisting in the sheet.

“Relax, sweetheart.” His hand smooths across your hip, thumb rubbing across your skin, easing forward until his thick thighs are pressing against yours, the curve of his stomach flush with your ass.

His first thrust is experimental - shallow, fingers gripping onto your waist. Rocking you with his movements as you groan, so sensitive that you think you can feel every vein, each ridge.

Again, and then again - until your cheek presses against the mattress so you can look at him, your eyes heavy lidded.

The peek of pink tongue between teeth as he concentrates, a hitch in his chest when you clench down around him. Shoulders flexing as your lips part, the words moaned out - a plea, “Harder. I won’t break.”

Fingers digging into your skin, as you add a soft, “Please.”

It tips him over, hands jerking your hips back - all but impaling you on his cock. Sinking himself deep, filling you completely.

Your gasp is low and loud, head tilting back. Urging him to do it again, and so he does. Gripping your hips as he starts thrusting, your panting moans mingling with the wet squelch of your pussy as he pounds into you.

Shifting, his thighs bumping into yours, lifting your hips, pressing you further into the mattress.

Changing the angle, his cock dragging along your walls. His forward thrust nudging against a spot that makes you cry out, muscles clenching, pleasure flooding your senses.

“Yeah?” He asks through clenched teeth, voice like gravel.

Finding it again, and then again. Your fingers gripping the sheets, lips parted as the moans are pushes out of you. Hurtling towards the edge, your hips rocking back to meet him the best you can.

And when his hand moves, fingers pressing against your slick, sensitive clit, it only takes a few flicks of his wrist until you’re trembling, your words a jumble of begging pleas.

“Oh god yes, Jim, please, please-”

Soaking his cock as you start to flutter, tight and hot and almost overwhelming him. His name sounding so goddamn good on your lips as you chant it, the little jerks your hips make as his fingers keep moving.

Your eyes shut as you ride out the waves, your body relaxing into his grip. Realizing he’s still thrusting, drawing your pleasure out, still pressing against your clit.

“Come on honey, one more.” You just catch the rough rasp of his voice, raising goosebumps across your skin, “Let’s get it out of your system. I want to be the only one helping you.”

Quickly working you up again, until his own thrust starting to stutter. Your tight heat too much, he’s not going to last much longer. Trying to hold himself back a little longer, but it’s he thinks he already too far gone.

“Fuck baby, I’m close,” Hopper pants, and thinking about him coming makes you moan. “Where do you want me?”

“In me.” You beg, already close again - from his touch, his words.

“Fuck.” He repeats, “Goddamn-”

His groan low, hips snapping forward, the slap of his balls against your pussy before he grinds himself deep. The sharp thrusts sending you over with him, your own orgasm washing over you as you feel the hot pulse of his ropes painting your walls.

Basking in the sweet feeling release as he ruts against you - until you’re filled - until his hips finally start to slow.

Chest heaving as he catches his breath, fingers carding through his hair, brushing it back. Your thighs burning in a nice, used way - your head pressing against the mattress so you can peek up at him.

Taking a long minute, and then another. Until your breathing finally slows, until the tension melts from both of you. A hand rubs your lower back, above where you are still joined.

“More?” He asks, his gaze heavy as he meets yours.

You clench down around him, squeezing him as his release gets pushed out, dripping down your thighs. He twitches inside you.

“More.”

———

Evening has fully settling in when the two of you finally collapse - his head hitting the pillow with a heavy, satisfied sigh. Your body going limp against his, pressing yourself flush against him.

Your cheek scrubs against the hair sprinkled across his chest, your movements slow and sated. The fire - finally, completely - quenched, the only warmth now coming from your sweaty, sticky skin.

The humor returning, now that the danger has passed. A rumble of laugher beneath your ear, the click of a lighter, his voice a low rasp before he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“If you wanted me that badly, sweetheart, you could have just asked. No need to go through all that trouble.”

Unbelievable.

Your head tilts upwards as you fix him with a glare, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to move.”

His hand lifts to cup your chin, thumb scrubbing tenderly across your cheek. Another breath that takes you with it, rising and falling as you sag against him.

“‘Lucky’ is goddamn right.” He tells you, his teeth flashing with his smile.

And with that, you find yourself smiling, too.

#please mind the tags!#been working on this for a bit - hope you like it! 💕#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper imagine #hopper x reader #hopper x you #jim hopper smut #jim hopper

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

I Saw It Coming When You Threw The First Punch

Batmom x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence

Author's Note: I honestly feel like I get my irritation from people out by writing stories where the characters punch people. I live vicariously through my characters. Enjoy! -Thorne

Getting the call that his wife had been taken into GCPD custody was not one that Bruce had ever expected to receive. Not in a million years. And yet, low and behold, Gordon had called sounding apologetic that she’d been detained after a physical altercation at the gala she’d hosted earlier that evening.

Which was absolutely baffling to him, because the only person more anal retentive about screwing up at a gala than Alfred, was his wife. So, something must’ve seriously set her off if she’d hauled off on somebody. And Gordon had made it quite clear that it was his wife that threw the first punch, though beyond that, he didn’t know what else had occurred because she’d invoked her rights to the company lawyer and to remain silent, simply staring at the wall while the other officers tried to get a story out of her—Bruce knew she wouldn’t crack. Other than him, his wife had a reserve that no man, alien, or god could break. He’d never say it, but he was envious of his wife’s willpower.

He arrived rather quickly with all four sons in tow, knowing that the sight of the entire family would probably help her chances of getting out and they waited patiently to be escorted to where she was being held.

When they arrived at the interrogation room, they saw her sitting there with crossed legs, hands placed palm down on the table. Her eyes were closed in what Bruce recognized as her deep meditative state; the one she used to fight off telepathic control from enemies—she was probably recounting what happened that night.

“What are the charges?” he asked Gordon and the older man sighed.

“Simple battery and public disturbance.”

Bruce hummed lowly in his throat and gazed at his wife. “How do you see this playing out for her?”

“If the woman she keelhauled doesn’t press charges, there’s possibility of probation with community service.”

He had to play naïve. “And if she does?”

Gordon met his gaze. “Then you’re looking at your wife going into lockup for a year.”

Bruce let out a sigh. “I’ll call our lawyer then.”

“I’ll give you and your wife some privacy,” he replied, hitting a button on the keypad beside the door, and the glass went dark while the glowing red button recording the room turned off.

“Thank you, Gordon,” he said, and the detective waved as he walked off, closing the door to the interrogation room behind him. Bruce looked at his sons. “Let’s go see what set your mom off tonight.”

***

The door to the room opened but she didn’t open her eyes, still under the cold water in her retreat.

“(Y/N),” someone murmured and though the voice was familiar, she didn’t come to yet.

“(Y/N),” they repeated a bit firmer. “Come back up.”

Ever so slowly, she allowed her mind to come back from the deep waters and she opened her eyes, smiling at her husband and sons.

“Good evening family.” Damian immediately sprinted to her and buried his face in her neck, and she laughed, running a hand through his short dark hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“You are in trouble,” he murmured and pulled away to look into her eyes. “We will do whatever you need, Umi.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Don’t worry about me baby. Knowing Little Miss Martha May, she’s not going to press charges over our spat.”

“I think simple battery is bit more than a spat, mom,” Dick worried, brows furrowing in concern. “What did you two even start fighting about?”

Her eyes darted to the glass then to Bruce and he said, “Gordon turned off the cameras.”

“Mom,” Tim started, and she looked at him; he held up his phone screen. “I just assured that you’re protected here.”

She nodded and let out a sigh. “I knew I should’ve just walked away but I couldn’t help it. She just set me off like a match to gunpowder.”

“What’d you guys even duke it out over,” Jason questioned, and she sighed again, recounting the night.

***

“You’ve thrown another wonderful party, Miss Wayne,” Lucius murmured, handing her a champagne glass.

She grinned widely, thanking him. “Thank you, Lucius, I try.”

“Clan couldn’t come tonight?”

“You’ve always been perceptive about us, haven’t you?”

“To use your words, I try,” he laughed, and she nodded.

“Patrol started early tonight,” she said inconspicuously, eyes shifting around to glance at who was walking near them. “Besides, most of them only come to these to appease the crowd.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you’re the only one who actually enjoys these.”

“Only when Bruce and the kids are here,” she corrected. “It’s easier to bullshit when they’re here to pick up the slack.”

He barked a laugh and she chuckled in return when someone walked up to them. She turned and immediately grimaced at the old classmate of hers.

“(Y/N), such a beautiful party you’ve thrown tonight,” the woman greeted, though it was laced with cheerful fakeness.

She plastered a smile on her face. “Good evening, Marianne. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Oh, you know me, I’m always up for a party.” Her eyes drifted around. “Where is your husband? I wanted to thank him for the gift basket he sent after my operation.” Marianne gave her a sarcastic smile. “Isn’t it rather off for a host to avoid his own party?”

Note to self, yell at Bruce for sending her a gift.

“He had to work late tonight. So did the boys.” (Y/N) matched her smile. “I’m sure they’d be delighted to know that you thought of them though.”

Something shifted in Marianne’s eyes. “Oh yes, the children you have.” She leaned in close and murmured, “You know I’ve been hearing some rather negative rumors about yours and Bruce’s decision to adopt orphans rather than have some of your own.”

(Y/N) blinked, not sure if she should be shocked or unimpressed. “Really? Care to enlighten me?”

Marianne waved a hand. “The major one is that you simply took pity on the strays because you were barren.” She felt like she’d been slapped across the face and her jaw dropped as she gaped at the woman.

Apparently, that was all the ammunition that Marianne needed because she offered a sympathetic smile an placed a hand on (Y/N)’s arm. “Oh, you poor dear.” She patted her arm again. “You should’ve come to me instead of adopting orphans. I would’ve been happy to be a surrogate for you.”

(Y/N) shrugged the hand off her arm and reached up, pulling the silver teardrop earrings from her ears. “Yeah, those orphans aren’t mine, not biologically.”

She pulled off her diamond wedding rings and handed them and the earrings over to Lucius who took them and stepped back.

“But you know what they are?” she glowered at Marianne and seethed, “They’re my sons.”

The next thing anyone knew, the two women were rolling on the floor, their hostess throwing punches that seemed to make everyone wince when they connected to the woman’s face.

***

“And all I remember was being escorted down here,” she finalized, eyes drifting to Bruce’s.

He simply stared at her for a moment before he let out a heavy sigh and put his face in his hands. “I’m proud that you defended our family, but at the same time, I’m disappointed that you let Marianne set you off.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, so you’re taking her side?”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Bruce shot back. “If she decides to press charges, you’re going to be in lockup for a year.”

“She’s not.”

“You don’t know that, (Y/N).”

“No, I do,” she blinked and leaned forward. “If Marianne doesn’t want me to ruin her image with shit she did when she was a teenager, she’ll keep her mouth shut and take the blame for this.”

“What’d she do, Ma?” Jason questioned curiously and she turned her attention to him.

“Enough that’ll disgrace her image amongst every elite this side of the globe if she tries me anymore.”

Before anyone could say anything, the door opened and they turned, seeing Gordon walking in. “Good evening, Miss Wayne,” he greeted, and she smiled.

“Good evening, Jim. How’s your night so far?”

He chuckled. “Not too bad. I got to detain my favorite socialite and listen to all my officers speculate what she did.”

(Y/N) lifted her hands palm up beside her shoulders. “I live to please, Jim, you know that.”

“I do.” He walked over and handed her a few papers. “When asked if she wanted to press charges, Marianne Walters declined. She instead gave a rather detailed statement that she instigated the fight and threw the first punch.” He stared at the busted lip she had. “Does that match what happened?”

She quickly looked over the papers and nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”

Gordon sighed. “Do you wish to press charges?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No,” she smiled. “There’s no reason to make a fuss about this.”

“…Miss Wayne, you and Miss Walters are all over the news.”

She shrugged. “And people have very short memories. They’ll forget about this.” She handed back the papers. “Send this to my lawyer and she’ll handle it with the prosecutors.”

“You think they won’t press charges despite Walters?” Gordon asked and she nodded.

“Oh, they won’t,” she said then looked at the clock. “Am I free to leave? It’s been a long night.”

Gordon let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “Yes Miss Wayne, you’re free to leave now.”

(Y/N) rose. “Wonderful.” She looked at her sons. “Boys, let’s go.”

They followed her and Bruce stood from the table, standing beside Gordon. “Thank you, Jim.”

Gordon grunted. “I know (Y/N) threw the first punch.”

“You do?”

“Of course, I do.” He huffed. “And I don’t blame her either.” He watched (Y/N) laugh at something Dick said while the others groaned around him. “You’ve got a good woman, Bruce. Good wife. Even better mother.”

Bruce looked at his wife and let an easy smile cross his lips as she pulled them all into hugs. “Yeah…yeah, I do, don’t I.”

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sl-ut · 3 years

Text

brutal

CHAPTER FOUR

pairing: glenn rhee x reader, oc!alexander x reader (siblings), various x reader

description: jim can't stop digging, and he can't remember why until it's too late

warnings: graphic violence, death, swearing

words: 2.5K

date posted: 28/02/22

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Beyond the treeline, the group came upon Jim as he drove a spade into the dirt of the open field repeatedly, creating deep holes in the earth. Y/n watched him with furrowed brows as he ignored Shane's pleading for him to stop, or at the very least, take a break from his position in the direct sunlight. Next to her, Amy clutched at her arm as she watched the man work himself into a heavy sweat.

"Just give me a second here, please."

"What do you want?" Jim finally paused his labour, breathing heavily as he held eye contact with the Deputy in front of him.

"We're just concerned, that's all."

"Dale says you've been out here for hours." Morales called out from behind Shane.

"So?"

"So why are you digging? You headed to China, Jim?"

Under normal circumstances, Y/n may have snorted at the comment, though she had found herself becoming less susceptible to the effects of humour. She couldn't exactly decipher if it was due to the situation in general, or perhaps it was due to worry for her brother as he went off in search of Merle Dixon.

"What does it matter? I'm not hurting anyone."

"Yeah, except maybe yourself. It's a hundred degrees out here, you can't keep this up."

"Sure I can. Watch me."

"Jim, they're not gonna say it so I will. You're scaring people. You're scaring my son and Carol's daughter." Lori stepped forward.

"They got nothing to be scared of. I mean, what the hell, people? I'm out here by myself. Why don't you all just go and leave me the hell alone?"

"We think that you need to take a break, okay? Why don't you go and get yourself in the shade? Some food maybe. I'll tell you what... maybe in a little bit I'll come out here and help you myself. Jim, just tell me what it's about. Why don't you just go ahead and give me that shovel?" Shane negotiated.

"Or what?" Jim challenged.

"There is no 'or what'. I'm asking you. I'm coming to you and I'm asking you, please. I don't wanna have to take it from you."

"And if I don't, then what? Then you're gonna beat my face in like Ed Peletier, aren't you? Y'all seen his face, huh? What's left of it. See, now that's what happens when someone crosses you."

Carol visibly stiffened from her place next to Y/n. The teenager placed a meek hand on the woman's arm in comfort as she hugged her daughter to her chest.

"You weren't there," Amy defended Shane, "Ed was out of control, he was hurting his wife."

"That is their marriage," He roared, rage flooding his veins, "Not his, he is not judge and jury. Who voted you king boss, huh?"

"Jim, just give me the shovel. I'm not here to argue with you."

In a scuffle, Shane snatched the shovel and began to wrestle it from the man. Once it was out of Jim's grasp, Shane tossed it to the ground and forced Jim into the dirt, confining his movements.

"You got no right!" Jim chanted like a prayer, though he was visibly relaxing in Shane's grip, losing his fight by the second.

"Jim, Jim," Shane soothed, "Nobody's gonna hurt you. You hear me?"

Jim sobbed loudly at Shane's words, "That's a lie. That's the biggest lie there is. I told that to my wife and my two boys. I said it 100 times. It didn't matter. They came out of nowhere. There were dozens of 'em. Just pulled 'em right out of my hands.

Y/n closed her eyes at his choked words, reminded of the fact that others had not come out of the apocalypse quite as fortunate as her. Sure, her mom was in a different country, but there still stood a chance that she was still alive, and she had her brother to protect her in a world where she had no idea how to protect herself.

"You know, the only reason I got away was 'cause the dead were too busy eating my family."

***

The search and rescue party had been gone longer than anticipated. After dealing with Jim’s intense side effects of sunstroke, the camp had gone back to a relative sense of normal. Or as normal as they could be while they anxiously awaited the return of their fellow survivors. The longer they waited, the more unsettled that Y/n was rapidly becoming.

The day had come to a close, and the group was left to prepare themselves for nighttime. The bass that Andrea and Amy had managed to catch was roasted over the fire and served with a side of mushrooms. Y/n’s plate was empty within minutes of it being filled. It had been the biggest meal she had eaten in days, not to mention the tastiest. She had never been a very big fan of fish nor mushrooms, in fact they would never normally be a part of her diet, but she would consider anything to be better than a lukewarm can of kidney beans. She smirked, picturing how annoyed Alex would be that he was missing such a treat.

Despite the few who were missing and the drama that had ensued over the past two days, the remainder of the group seemed to be in fairly good morale. They swapped stories and jokes over the fire, retelling their lives before they had all come together under these… unprecedented circumstances. Y/n watched on quietly, occasionally laughing along when someone made a particularly funny comment.

“I’ve got to ask you something, man,” Morales chuckled, “It’s been driving me crazy.”

“What?” Dale tilted his head.

“That watch.”

“What’s wrong with my watch?”

“I see you every day, the same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass.”

“I’ve wondered this myself.” Jacqui mused.

“I’m missing the point.”

“Unless I’ve misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end. Or at least hit a speed bump for a good, long while.” Jacqui explained.

“But there’s you, everyday, winding that stupid watch.” Morales finished.

“Time… it's important to keep track, isn't it? The days at least. Don't you think, Andrea? Back me up here.” Dale glanced at the blonde woman, who only shrugged to prompt him to continue, “I like… I like what, um, a father said to son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said, ‘I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father's before me; I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it for a moment now and then and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it’.”

Y/n shared a look with Amy across the fire as silence overcame the congregation that had gathered around the bonfire, only broken by the crackling of the logs and Amy as she scoffed a laugh.

“You are so weird.”

The others broke into laughter, each sending a comforting smile Dale’s way as he leaned further into his lawn chair and threw his hands up in surrender. If it weren’t for the small smile that grew on his own face, Y/n may have mistaken his reaction for blatant annoyance, but Dale had certainly taken quite a liking to the Harrison sisters.

“Hey, where are you going?” Andrea turned to catch her younger sister as she stood and moved towards the RV.

Amy glared down at her with wide eyes, “I have to pee. Geez, you try to be discreet around here.”

“Oh,” Y/n set her plate on the ground in front of the firepit as she stood from her own seat, “I have to go too.”

Amy nodded, slowing her pace to wait for the younger girl to catch up. She glanced over her shoulder as they approached the camper, bumping her shoulder into Y/n’s with a smirk as they grew further away.

“So?”

Y/n furrowed her brows, “So, what?”

Amy groaned as she held the door open for Y/n, “So, how’s Glenn?”

Y/n sighed, “Do you ever get tired of talking about that?”

“Hmm, no, not really.” Amy shrugged, “Hey, the world ended. I’ll take whatever kind of drama I can get.”

“I wouldn’t call it drama.”

“So there is an ‘it’.” Amy pressed. “I knew it. You were both acting weird this morning before he left. So are you going to tell me, or do I have to torture it out of you?”

Y/n snorted, pulling out her best Russian accent, “I’ll never talk.”

Amy giggled, pushing Y/n’s shoulder as she sat at the table, motioning for Y/n to use the bathroom first, though she did not relent on the interrogation now that Y/n could not escape her questions. Y/n cursed herself for allowing Amy to trap her in the small bathroom.

“Did he profess his love for you?”

“No.”

“Did you profess your love for him?”

“I don’t love him, Amy.”

“Did you hook up?”

“Amy.”

“Sorry, sorry,” She laughed, feigning innocence, “So you just made out, then?”

Y/n’s lips parted, silent for only a moment before Amy’s shriek broke through the door.

“Oh my God, you made out with Glenn?”

Y/n forced the door open, an icy glare in her eyes as she stalked towards the older girl, “No, I did not make out with Glenn. We just, you know, kissed.”

Amy grinned widely at her, “I knew you two would get together. In a world of zombies, you two are definitely endgame. This is all just like a movie or something.”

The teenager shrugged, hugging herself tightly, “Amy, it was just a kiss. And I’m not even sure if I liked it that much, you know? I mean, he’s the only guy close to my age around here, what if I’m only feeling this way because he’s just there?”

“I mean, it’s definitely possible,” Amy pursed her lips, “Or, maybe you should just go for it? Realistically, we could all be dead by morning, so what’s the point in just beating around the bush?”

Amy stood to strut past Y/n, but halted in the doorway of the bathroom before turning back with a wild fury in her eyes, “You used all of the toilet paper?”

Y/n laughed as she shrugged, amazed at how quickly her emotions had shifted, “There was only one piece left!”

Amy scoffed as she moved to the door of the RV, “Yeah, real nice. I play therapist and you can’t even repay me by leaving the last bit of toilet paper for me?” She pushed the door open, calling to the others at the campfire, “We’re out of toilet paper?”

Y/n watched in slow motion at a dark claw grasped at Amy’s arm, a look of surprise crossing her features before a scream of terror ripped through her as the walker sunk it’s teeth into her arm.

Those who were still sitting at the campfire leapt into action, children being guarded by their parents as the few who were armed began taking out the walkers as they approached, but like a hydra, two more took the place of each fallen geek.

For a moment, Y/n considered closing the door of the RV. She was unfit to defend herself, let alone anyone else, and would be completely protected from the walkers. Then, she thought of the others, how they would be killed, and that if she had secluded herself, she would still die in a matter of days from hunger. Instead, she snatched the largest screwdriver from Dale’s toolbox and lunged forward, plunging it through the temple of the zombie that had continued attacking Amy with a loud cry, though she was unable to protect her from the second walker that snuck up behind her before it took a large chunk out of her neck.

Andrea was at her sister’s side in a moment, killing the walker and helping her to lay in the dirt as she sobbed, screaming for her sister to get up and keep going.

She had managed to take out another handful of walking corpses before her choice of weapon finally failed her. The tool became caught in the skull of one walker, leaving her defenceless against the others who were quickly advancing on her. Y/n tugged on the handle of the screwdriver with the entirety of her strength, closing her eyes as she began to accept her fate; The sinking of their rotting teeth into her flesh, the roughness of their decaying skin scratching against her own as they clawed her apart. But it never came.

One by one, the walkers who had surrounded her began dropping to the earth, round bullet holes marking their foreheads as black blood and chunks of brain and flesh began splattering onto her face. Glancing up, her eyes met those of Glenn, who ran to her side as soon as the dead assailants had fallen.

“Are you okay?” He asked, “You’re not bit?”

She stared down at the corpses at her feet before looking back up at him with red-rimmed eyes, voice caught in her throat, “No, I don’t think so.”

Y/n peeked over to where Andrea continued to kneel over her sister’s body, wailing as the final few walkers were killed. She whimpered as she eyed the large puddle of blood that had formed on the ground around her body. Glenn gulped as he followed her line of vision, quickly pulling her into his embrace to protect her from looking at it any longer.

“Amy,” She whispered quietly, tears beginning to dribble down her cheeks to stain his t-shirt as sobs began to wrack her body.

“I know,” His voice cracked as he cradled the back of her neck gently, pressing her face into his shoulder.

“Y/n!” Alex sprinted towards the pair, tearing his sister away from Glenn and into his own hold. “Oh my God, you’re okay.”

Y/n leaned further into her brother’s chest, muffling her increasingly loud sobs. In the mess of events that had occured in the past few minutes, her concern about the wellbeing of her brother had all but left her mind, which only upset her even further.

The safety that they had created for themselves had collapsed. Their camp was no longer safe, and over half of those who had once been survivors had been killed. Unsure of how to go on from there, the remainder of the campers wept quietly as they listened to the eerie, harrowing wails of Andrea Harrison.

#twd #female reader #reader insert #x reader #imagines #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead x reader #glenn rhee #maggie greene #glenn rhee x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon

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ghostspideys-moved · 3 years

Text

winter fun

a/n: it’s never too early for a winter fic, and i couldn’t get this idea out of my head, a quick reminder here of who i write for at the moment to anyone who’d like to request something

pairing: leonard mccoy x reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: Joanna’s visiting, and you don’t want to screw up a chance to bond with her. Thankfully, you both share a favorite pastime - antagonizing Leonard.

The downside to being part of a five year mission in space is that you hardly have much time to be home. Thankfully, though, Jim had been gracious enough to grant shore leave for the holidays, and you couldn't be happier about it.

Finally being home - no longer confined to your duties aboard the Enterprise - is a blessing for you and Leonard both.

On top of that, Joanna is meant to visit for a few days. She's been eager to see her dad in person now that she could, and you can't blame her. Besides, you see this as a chance to bond with her more. Joanna seems to like you just fine, but you've always had an inkling of doubt for some reason.

In order to make Joanna's visit perfect, you've taken it upon yourself to start some cookies. Unfortunately, you've made quite a mess. Flour is splattered on your apron, and Leonard can't help but laugh when he comes in to check on you.

"You know, I'm pretty sure the flour is supposed to go in the bowl." Leonard leans against the counter, an amused look on his face.

"How silly of me. I never would've known if you hadn't said something," you retort, barely holding back a smile of your own.

He snorts and kisses your forehead. "Whatever would you do without me, darlin'?"

"I might actually finish these cookies on time, for starters," you tease. You've just started to cut them into shapes and set them on a baking sheet. You know Joanna's due to arrive any minute, and you want them done by then so she has a snack.

Leonard laughs and shakes his head, holding his hands up in surrender. "Don't let me distract you, sweetheart," he says.

It's as you're carefully setting the cookies into the oven that the doorbell rings, and you don't have time to make a witty retort before Leonard leaves to answer it. You hear him greeting Joanna and letting her in from the cold.

Shit. A little earlier than you hoped, but you’ll manage.

You're already taking off your flour-covered apron when Joanna comes in, immediately zeroing in on the smell of cookies baking.

"Are you baking something?" she asks curiously, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

You nod, giving her a quick hug once she's no longer in danger of being equally covered in the mess you'd made.

"They shouldn't take too long," you assure her. "Why don't you get settled in the meantime, and then we can catch up while they finish."

Joanna nods and eagerly follows Leonard to the guest room you'd cleared for her.

Catching up with her goes by quickly, and the second the cookies are done and cooled down, her and Leonard both immediately reach for them. They comment on how well you did before easily falling back into conversation. From the sound of it, Joanna's just really glad to see her dad again. You can't imagine how much she misses him each day when he's millions of miles away.

Once most of the cookies are gone, Joanna gets the bright idea to play outside in the snow, which you're all too happy to agree to.

Leonard has some objections. "It's too cold right now, and the snow will be piled nearly as tall as you," he says, crossing his arms.

"Please, dad? It's not as bad as you're making it sound."

"Len, it's not like we won't be out there with her. Would you rather be there with us or leave us to our own devices?" You know all too well that he'd much rather be present in case anything goes wrong.

You and Joanna give him the best pleading looks you can manage. Leonard sighs and grumbles but ultimately caves.

"Fine, but you two better bundle up properly. The last thing I need is for both of you to get hypothermia or frostbite."

Despite his grumbling, he smiles, happy to see you two getting along. Even if it's in union against him. You know this is just his way of showing he cares, so neither of you are too surprised that he's given in.

Once you're all dressed appropriately for the weather, you head to the front yard where plenty of snow has accumulated. You're not at all surprised when a snowball hits you're back. You turn to find Joanna pointing at Leonard, who immediately hides another snowball behind his back.

"He did it!"

Leonard looks betrayed, though not surprised. "Anyone ever tell you you're a snitch?" he mumbles. "Some kid of mine."

Joanna only laughs. You snort and grab a handful of snow, quickly forming a snowball and tossing it at him in retaliation. Joanna is quick to join you.

"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, huh? Ganging up on me already?"

Leonard grins, despite his complaining, and quickly tries to defend himself. You two are quite the team, though, and he quickly realizes he has no chance.

"Alright, alright. Truce," he calls, ducking behind a tree to dodge the line of fire.

You turn to Joanna, silently asking whether to call it even.

"Hm, I don't know. What's in it for us?" she asks.

Leonard weighs his options for a moment. "I'll make hot chocolate," he offers. "Just the way you like it, kiddo. Plenty of cinnamon and marshmallows."

Joanna pretends to consider his offer, though you know she'll take it.

"Deal. But you have to help us make a snowman."

"Fine by me."

You laugh and shake your head, kissing his cheek when he finally comes out of hiding.

Joanna is quick to start the bottom of the snowman, and you and Leonard jump in to help when it gets too big. It goes smoothly with the three of you working together.

While you're finishing up, Leonard heads inside to fetch a carrot for the nose. When he returns, he pauses to take in your handiwork so far.

"Why's he frowning?" he asks, glancing at you two.

You finish placing the sticks being used for its arms and stand back. "It's you," you proudly proclaim.

Joanna nods, standing back to get a good look at your snowman. It was her idea to use some twigs as eyebrows to make him look grumpy.

To your surprise, Leonard doubles over in laughter as he takes in the nearly finished product. You and Joanna share a high five as he collects himself, more than happy to see that he likes it.

"Alright, you got me. I guess I should've seen that coming," Leonard says, shaking his head once his fit of laughter ends. He places the nose and takes off his hat, placing it on the snowman's head. "There. Now he's perfect."

You grin, kissing his cheek. "He looks just like you," you tease.

"I don't see it," he jokes, kissing your forehead.

"What? The resemblance is uncanny. I can barely tell you two apart."

Joanna fondly watches you two tease each other, more than relieved to see her father happy. You only stop when you two hear her sniffle from the cold as she wraps her arms around herself.

Leonard sighs and fixes her scarf so it's covering her nose properly. "Let's get you two inside before you get yourselves sick," he insists.

"Well, if we do, we'd have the best doctor in the galaxy to look after us," you joke, following them inside.

He laughs, though he gives you an exasperated look. "Keep it up and we'll see about that."

You know he'd happily take care of you guys with only some mild complaining. He hurries you both into the kitchen to make hot chocolate and warm you guys up. Any doubts you have about Joanna liking you have been erased from your mind, and you fondly watch them as Leonard wraps you both in blankets before starting the hot chocolate.

#leonard mccoy #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy x you #leonard mccoy one shot #leonard mccoy imagine #star trek imagines

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currymariana · 3 years

Text

The tear in my heart (Chapter 3)

Paring: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: Detective Y/L/N is the youngest yet the most skilled detective in Gotham’s Police, being one of the few James Gordon trusts with Batman stuff. After some time working closely with the Bat, Y/N starts to get the vigilante’s attention. But there’s no way this would work right? Getting close to you as Batman wasn’t a possibility, but maybe he could take a chance as Bruce, right?

Words: 3,9k

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Warnings: some swearing and my english

A/N: I know I said I would post it on friday, but to be honest... i don't have a good excuse... i just forgot. i'm sorry guys. just wanted to thank you all one more time for the feedback, i just love to see you guys are liking my baby... and i promise you chapter 4 is coming faster than this one did.

Also, tagging @hauntingsonofrobin since they asked (sorry i didn't reply but i just wanted to say i saw your reblog and i loved the things you said, thank you so much). And helped me remend to tell you guys that - let me know if you wanna be tagged or if i should do i tag list or something

That’s definitely not how you were expecting your visit to the Wayne Manor to go. You were just supposed to go there to clean your conscience apologizing for your previous behavior. Not to talk about dead parents or run out of his house like a fugitive after having denied him. But that just didn’t make any sense. Like no sense at all. Bruce Wayne is literally out of nowhere asking you out.

Here are the things that went through your mind in the brief 5 seconds between his question and your answer.

We only knew each other for 2 days

All the time we spent pinning and not getting along like.. at all.

He doesn't know me, I don't know him.

This does not make any sense.

C’mon this guy dates top models every week. What is he doing asking ME out?

Wait… every week…

He has a different girl almost every week.

He is a stupid playboy after all.

Yeah... I’m not gonna be one of those girls. Another girl on Bruce Wayne’s achievement list

There is no reason for me to accept it.

I’m not looking for a relationship. Not even a one-night stand

Especially not with him.

That’s it Y/N, just say no nicely and leave quickly. Be professional.

Of course, he is a handsome guy, and despite the problems you had have been resolved you could make a list of reasons not to accept it, and sure it would be at least 20 items.

On your way back to the station you couldn't stop thinking about it. You were okay before with being rude to Mr. Wayne when he was rude to you as well, and it was easier when you just assumed he was an arrogant playboy. But now that you just solved things out, you’re just hoping you hadn't been rude or something… you don’t know… it was never easy to turn a guy down when he asks you nicely, actually, you just don't like to make people sad.

But maybe I should not think too much of myself. Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s prince. The Bruce Wayne. Wouldn't be sad about you rejecting him right? He would just laugh a little and move on. Maybe he just wanted to try something different, maybe he never dated a cop before. Maybe he was just joking with you. Yeah… he wouldn't be sad about it. So no worries. You should just forget it. When you tell Andrea and Jim in no time you’ll be laughing about it, and you could now tell your grandchildren the story of how you rejected Bruce Wayne…

That’s probably the end of your interactions with the billionaire anyway. Hopefully, you would never have to deal with him again. You should just get back to work, complete your night shift, and… maybe... hopefully you could run into someone wearing a cape and a cowl right?

That night your shift ended with just some occurrences… and there was no exciting case, there was no Batman… actually there was nothing worth keeping you distracted enough. Not that you wanted something bad to happen just to keep you busy, but it seems like the nights you needed the most are exactly the nights the bad guys in Gotham decide to be quiet. After that, you just went straight home and slept the whole day.

On the next day…

You are on your way to another shift. After a very well-deserved rest. It was like that every time you got a new case. You practically lived at the station and didn’t get a lot of sleep until you solved it. Jim hated it. He was always giving you speeches about how you should take care of yourself too, how a normal person doesn't ingest the amount of coffee and sugar that you did. And jokes that if you don’t die from being reckless in a case, you will die before your fifties from health problems caused by trying to solve them.

Of course, you always ignore him and tell him not to worry about it. That you can take care of yourself. But he can’t help but worry and scold you like an old father. And you are truly glad to know that you have someone to take care of you. Not that you're gonna let him know that.

Before going to the station you decided to stop by the cafe. Get some coffee, a muffin, and chat with Andrea. You still didn’t have the chance to tell her about what happened. She would kill you for sure. No, she would scream at you first, call you stupid, and only then... she would kill you.

What's the biggie on having a one night with a handsome rich guy? You had worse.

Even if he only wanted you as the girl of the week, or the night or whatever. You didn't want a relationship anyway, so if you were only having occasional sex with random guys sometimes, why don’t have it with one who is worth it.

You could hear her words echoing in your mind even before you tell her. Even with all the talking, you knew she would make you laugh about it. You were excited to tell her.

But just as you were getting closer to the coffee shop you looked through the huge glass window and you saw a familiar back. A huge back, beautiful black hair, and an unmistakable overcoat.

OUT OF ALL THE COFFEE PLACES IN GOTHAM… seriously?

Nice… Bruce Wayne was in the coffee shop peacefully sitting on a table and talking to Andrea like they had been friends for years (probably her doing anyway). Not only has he tormented you for the past two days, but now he is preventing you from getting your favorite coffee and talking to your friend. To be fair he wasn't preventing you from anything you were just not in the mood to deal with him at all. Especially after what happened yesterday.

Even if what you were thinking is true and he wasn’t upset at all about your rejection yesterday. You weren't in the mood to deal with it. To have an awkward conversation, trying to do small talk in order to be polite. You wanted to never have to deal with him again, keep things civil. Gotham is a big city, so you can do that. Starting now. You decided to turn around and head to the station.

You could have coffee from the coffee machine and talk to Andrea later. So to avoid stress. You decided to skip the coffee shop daily visit for today.

Bruce had been sitting at that table for half an hour and had no sight of you yet. He knew you went there almost every day, not in a creepy way or anything. He just has known you for 2 years now and he could use some of his batman knowledge in Bruce’s favor, right?

Not even himself knows what the hell he is doing here.

This is ridiculous.

He let out a frustrated buff and ran his hands in his face. He had other things to do, bigger things to worry about. Still, he couldn't explain why he was spending 30 minutes of his day drinking coffee in a local cafe, waiting to see a girl. A girl that by the way had rejected him.

Indeed, he is ridiculous.

Cause after what felt like the biggest internal conflict of his life, he decided to give him a chance and ask you out, but... of course, that didn’t mean you would give him a chance. After maybe ten seconds that you left, he realized how stupid he was. Why would you accept a date with him? He is a guy you know for two days and in those two days, you had done nothing but fight and be rude at each other.

Maybe some girls would accept it anyway, after all... he was Bruce Wayne. But you weren't those girls. And now he was worried you were probably thinking that he was so full of himself that he thought this about you.

Honestly, what were you expecting Bruce? Just because you ask a girl out doesn't mean she has to accept it. I should just go home, get ready for patrol. Stop being stupid. You tried and she said no, so just let go. The girl said no Bruce. Do not humiliate yourself like that.

He already got a “No! Thank you” but it looks like he is looking for the humiliation, cause after 30 minutes and he realized that you weren't going to the coffee shop that evening, he could just go home. Take it as a sign that he should let go. Still, he finds himself entering the station with an extra coffee in hand.

In his head - he couldn't just let go. He had come too far to give up now without trying. Just one last shoot, then he would give up and get back to the idea of a lonely life of a vigilante.

“Excuse me! Can I help Sir?” a girl sitting at the front desk greeted him, but only after a few seconds she seemed to realize who he is, and here it goes... “Oh my God! You're Bruce Wayne!” she said, shockingly, and he just smiled gently used to the unwanted attention.

“Yeah.. yeah that’s me,” he said giving the girl a charming smile “I’m looking for Detective Y/L/N. Has she arrived yet?” he added turning his look to look around the faces who were around him searching for yours.

“Oooh, yes yes. She is here! She is probably in her room! I can take you there” she said, already getting up. That wasn’t the usual procedure, she should ask what he wanted with you first, then call you to the front desk. Definitely not take him to your room. Sometimes he hated the special way people treated him… right now… it didn't felt so bad.

“No no, please! You don’t have to do that!” he said, stopping the young girl before she could lead him inside the station. “I can just wait here!”

“There's no problem at all!” she said, shaking her hands and heading to the door that separated the front room and the actual inside of the station. “C’mon I can take you there” she said pointing with her head for him to follow her. Bruce just opted on nodding and following the girl. They entered the big room and suddenly all eyes were on him, he could hear whispers and people asking what Bruce Wayne was doing at the police station and other things similar.

Funny how he had been here so many times trespassing to get some file or something like to talk to Gordon or with you, and now he was walking around freely and even felt welcomed.

That's it… until his eyes met yours. You weren’t in your office, you were talking to some colleague in front of his table when you notice a commotion around the room and when you turned to see what was it about. You meet with Bruce Wayne, being led by Alice around the station, and receiving attention like he was a celebrity or something. If a look could kill, Bruce would drop dead in that second.

When Bruce noticed that you noticed him he tried to give you a kind smile, but your face wasn't showing a very welcomed expression, really, it looked like you were about to grab the gun on your waist and shoot him right now. Maybe showing up at your workplace wasn’t his brightest idea.

“That she is” the girl exclaimed a little too loud and pointed at you. Bruce nodded and thanked her before she returned to her spot and he started making a short way toward you. When people around noticed that his reason to be there was you, after Alice, not-soo discrete expression, you were now the center of attention. Right now you were just hoping the floor would open under your feet and you could just disappear.

You decided to act professional and go see what the hell that man wants so you dismiss your coworker and head to him meeting him halfway.

“Hello, Mr. Wayne! How Can I help you?” you said giving him your best fake smile. You were in your workplace and all eyes were on both of you, so even if you want to tell him to fuck off you wouldn't do it right now.

“Hey!! aaan… I brought you coffee” he spoke weirdly and extending his hand with the coffee to you, you looked at him with a mix of confusion/angry look. He was already regretting all his life decisions. “ Your friend, the barista, said you didn’t take yours today and that you do that every day” he said trying to explain himself seeing that you weren’t taking the coffee of his hand

“And you assumed it would be nice to show up at my workplace to give it to me?” you said sarcastically and he just awkwardly nodded his head

“Yeaaah, actua-”

“I already had coffee Mr. Wayne, thank you very much!” you said cutting him “But if you are not here to report some occurrence, I suggest you leave” you said straight to the point and pushing his hand gently closer to his body rejecting the coffee he offered. And preparing to leave his presence.

“WAIT!” he said louder what ended up calling everybody attention mere than already was before, Bruce noticed all eyes on you two (they weren't even trying to be discrete about their looks and comments) “I can talk to you please?” he said politely and quiet looking right in the eyes. “somewhere else?” he added turn his eyes to the curious looks and you did the same

You muffled frustrated and nodded before answering him “Okay! Follow me please” and you started leading him to your small office. Getting there you closed the door and the windows to avoid curious eyes.

It was never so hard to avoid someone in a big city like Gotham. Why he couldn't just leave you alone? Ask a model or a ballerina to a date instead, but here he was showing up in your workplace, dragging unwanted attention and wasting your time. You wish you could just dump him right there, but you didn’t want to be the new gossip of the station of the month.

“What do you want?” you spoke angrily, now without so many eyes on you, you felt okay beeing rude again.

“I just want to talk,” he replied, looking at your mess and looking for a place to seat but there was only one chair, filled with papers on it so he just decided to stay stand

“And my workplace is the best place to do it?” you asked cocking your head and crossing your arms

“I went to the coffee shop earlier but you didn’t show up,” he answered trying to justify himself “It was your friend's idea to bring you coffee here,” he said offering you the coffee again but this time you decided to take it. (truth is.. you really wanted that coffee, the coffee of the station is awful, you were regretting not going to the coffee shop earlier)

"Andrea 's?" you said doubtful “You talked to her?

“Yeah!” he said trying to hold a smile when he saw you start drinking the coffee “I didn't tell her about me asking you out and you saying no if is that what you are worried about” he continued giving a long pause while you just enjoyed your coffee “But is about that I wanted to talk to you now”

“What? The great Bruce Wayne can’t take a “No” for an answer?” you said mocking him

“That’ not it” he answered frustrated “I just wanted to know why”

“Why? I don’t need to give you a reason. I just don’t wanna go out with you”

Damn you were right! A girl doesn't have to have a reason to reject someone. Even if you had as many reasons as you did, you didn’t owe him an explanation.

He hated how he sounded like an arrogant prick, like one of those guys who can’t just accept that a girl doesn't want him. And he knew he sounded exactly like that and that’s exactly what you think of him. The truth is he was just trying so hard to not let that be your last interaction with Bruce, and that was the only way he knew how. Even if he seemed like an asshole, now that he had you outside Batman's life he couldn't let go. He could give just one more shot.

“Okay then…” he declared clapping his hand once “Have a nice day detective” he completed getting ready to leave the room

“Wait” you stopped him on his way to the door confused about what just happened. The guy just ask you out yesterday, goes to your favorite coffee shop (probably hoping to meet you there) then brings you coffee at your workplace saying he wanted to talk to just leave like that. “That’s it?” you said expressing your thoughts and he looked confused to you “You came all your way here to that?’

“Well… I came to ask you again. I was hoping to hear your reasons and see if I could convince you or something... I don’t know” he said putting his hands on his front pockets

“And you can’t anymore?” what are you doing Y/N? just let go, is that what you wanted right? to him to leave you alone

“If you just don’t want to... there is nothing I can do” he said smiling, Bruce couldn't believe you were going with this conversation. He presumed that was it and was ready to go, still, here you are.

“Just for you to know… I have reasons. Lots of them actually”

“Well can you tell me them? Maybe I can convince you to still go out with me” he said giving you a side smirk

You couldn't… not all of them at least. Since some of them were related to your insecurities. Like…

I’m not a model, or rich, or famous. What would someone like Bruce Wayne date someone like me? My last relationship didn't end very well.

“We barely know each other” it was the first and more obvious one that you could think about, you couldn't go out with a guy you barely knows and couldn't see a reason for him to ask you to if he didn’t know you either.

“Yeah... That won't change unless you give it a chance” he justified right way, taking a step closer to you

“And... I don’t like people like you” you gave him another reason, indeed, it doesn't matter if you didn’t know him that much, you know his kind, and they were all the same.

“How are people like me exactly?” he spoke cocking his head and taking another step closer.

“Well… you know like a guy who wears clothes more expensive than a common car. Or who expend more money than my yearly salary on parties. Someone who has a different girl on his arms every week. That asks a girl he barely knows out, that is pretty sure she will say yes because - what kind of stupid girl would say ‘no’ to Bruce Wayne right?”

“And how do you know that?” he said crossing his arms and taking a step closer to you, now he was pretty close but keeping a comfortable distance, you realized that all this time since the begging of this weird conversation of you he is trying extra hard to not make you uncomfortable, he doesn't need to get closer, the tension is already noticeable. “After all ‘we barely know each other’ right?” he gave you a side smile using your own words against you.

“Well…I don’t need to go on a dinner to know that”

“But maybe you could learn there is more than that” he added right away and you stood silence for a while. Damn he was good. It seems like he always knows what to say.

He noticed your silence, and realise you were taking your time to think of some return, and took take as an opportunity to take his final shot.

“So here is a proposal...” he exclaimed suddenly, you looked at him confused and he continued “What if I take you to one dinner? Just one… No commitment. Just two soon-to-be friends, going on a dinner to get to know each other-”

“Soon-to-be friends? You think too highly of yourself Mr. Wayne.” you interrupted him and said sarcastically

He decided to ignore your comment and continued “And the moment you decided to end... we do! And if you don’t like how it went... we just go back to being strangers”

“Just one night?” you asked intrigued he nodded “And you promise to never bother me again?” he nodded again.

You looked at him right in the eye.

He was good. Think about it Y/N. If you just accept it you can go out, have a nice dinner in a fancy restaurant you can’t afford and leave right after, plus he won’t bother you again. So you get a free fancy meal and get rid of Bruce Wayne.

“Okay”

“What?” he sounded incredulous

“I said ‘Okay’” you said, only now getting a step back “I’m only free on Wednesday, is that okay with you?”

Poor Bruce, he couldn't hide his excitement. He was smiling like a fool and cursing at himself to let it show so easily. He couldn't believe it worked. He knew that you only accepted to get rid of them, that you would do your best to end the night earlier. So he should make it worth it.

“Yes… yes! It’s more than okay!” he said taking a step back too, but he bumped on that chair filled with papers resulting in the chair falling and causing a huge mess in your already messed little office “Oh God! I’m so sorry” he crouched to get the chair back in place and started nervously gathering some papers off the floor trying to clean up his mess.

“It’s okay!” and almost at the same time, you crouched too. Only a few seconds helping him pick up your papers you didn’t realize how close you two were, but Bruce definitely did.

When you look, you meet with his eyes already on you. You couldn't help but study his face for a few seconds. Wow, he really is handsome. Not that you haven’t noticed it yet, but now beeing so close you kind of understand all the fuss about him. But there is something else you can’t quite put, you felt a familiar feeling looking at him this close. You must have stared too much only breaking your stare when you heard him clean his throat.

“So…Wednesday night, hum? At 7? Is it okay?” he said getting up and you followed him. And his stared were now fixed on the floor like he was avoiding looking at you.

“Yeah! Seven is great” you said nodding your head. He just smiled and started making his way toward the door. Stopping with his hand on the doorknob and before turning it and leaving he looked at said giving you a charming smiling.

“So, see you on Wednesday detective!”

Chapter 4

well... in my opinion... things are starting to get interesting now!! This chapter was supposed to be so much smaller, originally it didn't have Bruce's thoughts but I got carried away and added it hehe.

Hope you liked it and let me know what you think + if you want to be tagged

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