#p sure that bullet nailed him right in the knee so losing the knee too might be the way to go??

[izzy-b-hands]

Sometimes I get mad when I get stuck mid-draft bc I need to research something, but researching abt prosthetic legs and what sort of knees they can have (bc I think for this modern hotel au, Izzy would probably have had Ed and Stede help spring for one that has a fancier, unfortunately more expensive and heavier but seemingly easier to bend, knee)

Purely so that I can have Izzy give Frenchie a blowjob while under the front desk at the hotel has been just. A good time. There's a lot of options for these prosthetics and it's been cool as fuck to learn abt tbh

[lets-go-steal-a-hardison]

Good Days and Bad Ones

New Leverage ot3 fic! Warning for gun violence and gun wounds. Fluff then angst then fluff again. ~2.9k words | Teen

Can read below or on my ao3 account here.

It had been a good day.  Eliot should have known not to trust that, but lately, he had been having a lot of good days.  The worst part was that what happened wasn’t even on a job.  They didn’t even see it coming.

Eliot had woken up surrounded by his partners.  The fact that he couldn’t move from being so entangled in their arms and legs should have felt suffocating, but instead, it just felt safe.  He started to move around, wanting to get up and go start his morning routine, and Hardison nuzzled into his neck.

“C’mon man, I gotta get up,” Eliot whispered to him.

Hardison grunted, still mostly asleep, then kissed where he had just nuzzled.  He did relax his arms though.

Okay.  One down.  One more to go.

Eliot turned to look at Parker and saw she was awake, already looking at him.

“I gotta get up, sweetheart, you gonna let me?” he said with a small smile.

Parker was wrapped around his arm with a leg thrown over him.  She pouted a bit, then kissed his shoulder before letting him go.

“Thanks, darlin’.  I’ll make pancakes later, kay?”  

Parker grinned at him.  “With whipped cream?”

“Only if I can add blueberries,” Eliot bargained as he got up and pulled on a shirt.  He had to get her to eat fruit somehow.

“Fiiiiiine,” Parker said, moving into the warmed spot Eliot had just vacated and wrapping around Hardison, who octopused onto her the moment she was in arm’s reach.

Eliot took a moment to stare at them.  Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe that they chose to love him.  Change with him.  It was humbling, their love for him.

He was one lucky bastard.

Eliot did his morning workout, then showered.  By the time that he was going into the bedroom to get clothes, towel around his waist, Parker was up.  She took off Hardison’s old shirt, which she had been using as a pajama shirt, and kissed Eliot one more time before taking the next shift in the shower.  Hardison was still passed out on the bed, but as Eliot walked in, he started to stir.

Letting the towel slip off, Eliot bent over to pull on underwear and heard an appreciative rumble from Hardison.  It took a while for him to be coherent in the morning, unless he had stayed up all night.  That caused a different kind of incoherence.  

Eliot grinned at him from over his shoulder as he continued to get dressed.  “You snooze, you lose,” he teased.  

Hardison let out a sleepy groan, then made grabby hands towards Eliot.

“Hell nah, I’ve got to get started on Parker’s pancakes,” Eliot said, already walking forward anyway.

“Mmmmm… pancakes,” Hardison hummed as he pulled Eliot in.  Eliot could feel his boyfriend’s smile against his lips.  He pulled back and kissed him once more, on the forehead this time, and moved away.

“They’ll be ready in a bit, you just gotta be up for them!” Eliot called as he walked out of the bedroom.

It was a good morning.

It didn’t last.

___________________________________

The first gunshot rang out at 1:12 pm.  Eliot knew because in the moment, everything froze and he took in everything in the kitchen of the brewpub, including the time.

The screams came next.

Eliot immediately put himself in between the doors to the kitchen and the waitstaff and cooks.  “Run.  If you can’t run, hide.  If you can’t hide, fight.  GO!” he said, jerking his head to the back entrance, hoping he wasn’t sending them into a trap.

“ALEC HARDISON!” a voice roared.  “COME OUT, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.”

Eliot felt himself move before he had really thought about it.  He cut across the kitchen and made his way quickly but effectively towards the living part of the brewpub, where he had left Hardison and Parker at their dining room table.

Too late.

Hardison came out of the back room with his hands up and Eliot redirected his attention to the rest of the room, immediately assessing the three men with guns in the middle of the room.  The patrons of the brewpub were cowering in their seats and on the floor.  There was one man by the door too, covering the exit.

It didn’t look good.

“Sinclair,” Hardison drawled.  If Eliot didn’t know Hardison as well as he did, he wouldn’t be able to tell how tense he was.  He kept it hidden in the flex of his back muscles and his hands.

It was a very distinctive flex.

“Haven’t seen you in years.  How you been, man?” Hardison continued, arms still raised.

“Well, prison is a bitch and those anger management classes just didn’t take.  So, here we are,” the man in the front, Sinclair, said as he waved the hand not holding his gun to take in the scene.

“What do you want?” Hardison asked, his face and voice becoming serious.

“Need your help with a job.”

“And you thought coming in guns blazing into my day job was the best way to ask?” Hardison asked derisively.

Sinclair smiled grimly.  “This isn’t asking.  Either you will help me or I will shoot you where you stand.”

Hardison shrugged.  “I’ve got my own crew and while they don’t mind me working freelance, I think they would object to the job conditions.”

“You’re damn right,” Eliot growled, moving into the room.

“Oh hell no,” the guy who was guarding the door said.  “You didn’t say Eliot fucking Spencer was part of the target’s crew.  I’m out.”

He threw open the door and ran out the brewpub.

One down, three to go.

The other two men shifted nervously as Eliot stared them down, looking between them and the man Hardison had called Sinclair.  Eliot didn’t like how steady Sinclair’s aim was at Hardison.

“Fellas.  Now we can either have y’all walk out of here alive, or there’s gonna be a need for body bags.  Which is it gonna be?” Eliot said.

The two men glanced at each other.  One shook his head, but the other one started sliding towards the door.

“Don’t you dare, Clancy, don’t you dare!” Sinclair shouted.

“Man, I got a baby at home.  I just needed the payout, but she needs me more,” the man, Clancy, said.  He turned and was out the door.

Two on two.

Eliot liked those odds.

“You sure you won’t help?” Sinclair asked, and Eliot started edging towards Hardison, ready to move if he needed.  

Suddenly, Sinclair’s gun was pointed at Eliot.

“Not even if I threaten to shoot your buddy here?”

“Whoa.  Now, hey man, you didn’t have to go there.  We had our moment, I said no, and you just had to keep pressing.  They always keep pressing, don’t they, Eliot?”

“Hardison…” Eliot cautioned, cause he knew what Hardison was doing.  He was trying to get himself back in Sinclair’s crosshairs, even though Eliot was much more comfortable being the one with the gun pointed at him.

“Nah, man, I know you’re doing your macho shit right now, and I for one do not appreciate it.  You are trying to kill him just with your glarey eyes and guess what, man?  Doesn’t work.  I know, cause otherwise I would be at least slightly damaged by now.”

“Oh my God, shut UP!” Sinclair said.

He turned.

Eliot jumped.

And Hardison gasped as the bullet hit his shoulder.

Sinclair watched as Hardison stared disbelievingly down at the bloom of blood on his shoulder.  He took a gasping breath of air, then his knees went out.

Eliot caught him before he could hit the ground.

“Put pressure on it, Alec.  Come on, you know the deal,” Eliot encouraged, pressing down himself.  He could sense Sinclair in his peripheral vision, but Hardison was his priority.

“It’s d-d-different wh-when it’s you,” Hardison stuttered.

He was going into shock.  Eliot needed to finish this so that they could get Chicken Parm down here, get him to help Hardison.

Eliot forced himself to take his attention off of Hardison and place it firmly on Sinclair.

He looked disconcerted at the look on Eliot’s face.

Good.

“You lost your chance to walk away when you pulled that trigger,” he said to Sinclair.  He turned to the last man standing, who flinched when their eyes met.  “Last chance for you.”

The man nodded.  Dropped his gun.  Walked out.

“You fucker!” Sinclair said, sighting his gun on Eliot.

Only for Parker to drop down from the ceiling, right on top of him.

The gun still went off, but Eliot was unscathed.  He rushed forward, diving on top of Sinclair who fought tooth and nail to keep his gun in his hands.  Eliot saw Parker crawl across the floor towards the gun the last man had dropped out of the corner of his eyes.

In the moment of distraction, Sinclair’s finger found the trigger and pulled.

Eliot felt the bright burn of the bullet going into his hip, but he just grunted and pulled back a fist, bringing it crashing down onto Sinclair’s temple.

He went limp.

Eliot forced himself to stand.  He turned and Parker nodded to him from where she was standing, gun pointed at Sinclair. 

“I’ve got him, you get Alec,” she said.

Eliot nodded.  He pulled out his phone as he went over to Hardison and put pressure on his wound, making Alec whine, high and full of pain.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, gotta keep pressure on it.  Help’s coming, Alec, just hang on, kay?” he murmured as the phone rang.

“P-parker okay?” Hardison whispered.

“Yeah, she’s-” Eliot glanced over to Parker and froze.  “Parker.”

She looked at him from keeping an eye on Sinclair.  “What?”

“Your leg.”

She followed Eliot's gaze and looked down to her thigh.  The right leg of her sweatpants - actually Eliot was pretty sure those had been his as some point - was soaked with blood.

She looked back at Eliot.  “Huh.”

Then she collapsed.

“SHIT!” Eliot shouted.

“Hello?”

Eliot remembered the phone in his hand.  His head was swimming and he blinked repeatedly to clear it.  “Parm, altercation at the brewpub.  Three GSW’s, Hardison n’ Parker are down.  You need to- to… aw, hell,” he slurred.

Then he fell forward onto Hardison’s chest and the world went black.

_________________________________

Dragging himself out of inky black unconsciousness was one of Eliot’s least favorite things in the world.  It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it sucked.

He was definitely on drugs, cause his brain took way too long to connect to his body.  He was floating a bit even when he realized who he was and started registering his body and surroundings.

He was definitely in a hospital.  The smell, the sounds of the intercom, and the feeling of an IV in his hand were too distinct for him to be anywhere else.

Eliot wasn’t as bad as Nate, but he still wasn’t a fan of hospitals.  The catheter alone was enough to make him wanna punch someone.

Forcing his eyes open, he looked around the room.  There was an empty bed next to him and no one else in the room.  He wanted to jump up and find Hardison and Parker, find out if they were alright, but the ache in his hip made him grimace as he sat up.

He settled for hitting the call button.

“Hello, Mr. Dubois, how are you feeling?” the nurse who came in asked.

“Sore and floaty.  Can we reduce the meds?  I hate this feeling.  Rather have the pain,” Eliot said.

The woman pursed her lips.  “We can, though I will ask you to start taking tylenol in its place, so you still have something in your system.”

Eliot nodded.  “The others at the brewery,” he started, not sure what cover he should be working with, how he should be referring to his partners, “are they alright?”

“The gunman has been taken into custody after getting treatment for his concussion.  The man and woman who were also injured are stable.  I’m sorry, that’s all I can say,” she said, working with the machine next to Eliot. 

He hoped that the floating feeling would leave soon.  He needed to come back to his body, pain or no pain.

“Alright, call if you need to get back on the morphine or if you need assistance with anything else.”

“When can I get up?” Eliot asked.

“We can do a walk around this evening, but we’re leery of moving before in case the stitches are disturbed.  We can take out the catheter at that time as well, as you will be able to get up for bathroom needs at that point.  Sounds okay?”

It didn’t, but Eliot forced himself to nod again.

The nurse had been out of the room for about a minute when Eliot heard something overhead.  He grinned at the ceiling, then frowned.

“Parker, should you be up yet?” he asked.

“The doc said that I could get up to see to my needs, and I needed to check on you,” she said through the vent.

“They meant the bathroom, Parker, not my sorry ass,” Eliot said.

“Yeah, yeah.  How you feeling?” she asked.

“They reduced my meds, but still disconnected a bit.”  He knew she would get what he meant, so he didn’t elaborate.  “Alec okay?”

“Yeah.  He was still sleeping, but his vitals looked good.  He lost the most blood of us, so he’ll probably be in here the longest,” Parker said.

“He’ll love that,” Eliot grumbled, already imagining the havoc that Hardison could produce if left in a hospital bed for any extended period of time.

Of course, he would have to be awake to cause havoc…

Eliot shrugged away the thought, reminded himself that Parker said he was doing well.

“How long you gonna be here?” Eliot asked.

He heard a rustle and imagined that Parker had shrugged.  “Bullet went through and through, just bled a lot.  Once they are sure that it’s closed and healing, I’ll be good to go.  They had to dig the bullet out of your hip,” she said, her voice getting quieter.  “So it might be longer for you.”

“I figured that, darlin’.  It’ll be alright.”  He glared at the grate without any real heat.  “Now get back to your bed and to healing.”

“I’d rather be here with you,” she said, her voice soft.

“That ain’t fair,” Eliot said, staring at the grate.  He felt the ache in his hip and now he had one in his heart.  “You gotta go back, Parker, cause if you’re here, you aren’t getting your meds.  I’m being good and taking mine, you gotta too.”

“Fiiiiine,” Parker said.  “I’ll be back though.”

“I would be worried if you didn’t,” Eliot said.

He didn’t hear her go, but felt when she was gone.

It was going to be a long stay in the hospital.

___________________________________

Hardison had woken up later that evening and Eliot had been able to see him when he was doing his walk around.  Alec was still pretty out of it, but he smiled up at Eliot.

“Knew you would take care of it,” he said, only slurring a bit.

“Get some sleep,” Eliot said, resisting the urge to touch him.  Their cover stories weren’t partners.  

Parker got out of the hospital first.  Eliot missed her voice coming out of the ceiling, but was checked out the next day anyways.  

The brewpub wasn’t the same without Alec around.  Eliot ended up stocking a bunch of the meals that Alec liked in the fridge for when he came home and Parker installed a new security system.  They cleaned the whole back area of the pub they called their home, working in tandem as they washed sheets and clothes, scrubbed down the kitchen and bathroom, and tidied the rest of it.  They didn’t sleep much.

By the time Alec got home, the place was spotless and stocked with orange soda and Eliot’s food.

Hardison eased onto the couch and looked around.  He turned to his partners and grinned.  “You missed me.”

Parker rolled her eyes.  “Course we did, dummy.”

Eliot inclined his head, conceding.  “Maybe.”

“You hungry?” Eliot continued.

“Eliot made all your favorites,” Parker said.  Eliot narrowed his eyes at her, cause he wanted that to be a surprise.

“Did he?” Hardison said, smile turning toward Eliot.  “You know I’d never say no to Eliot’s cooking.  Mind bringing it here?  Have y’all eaten?  Let’s just all eat here, pull up some movie.”

Eliot nodded.  Parker jumped up from where she had been sitting next to Alec, kissing him on the top of his head before she followed Eliot into the kitchen.

They settled in, food and movie at the ready.  They finished eating long before the end of the movie, but their plates lay forgotten on the coffee table as they cuddled as close as their wounds would allow them to.  

Eliot felt sleep come slowly towards him, but didn’t do anything to fight it.  He trusted Parker, and by extension, her security system.  He knew that both Parker and Hardison were safe and healing.  More bad days may come, but they would face them together.

In the arms of his two best friends and loves of his life, he let himself rest.

[unreachablevoice]

Oneshot? Daminette Oneshot!

OKay, you see, I’ve been reeaaallly wanting to write about people crying for a while now for some reason (don’t ask me why I legit don’t even know). So I thought, why not make a oneshot? So BOOM! here it is! (even though I should've been writing my other Daminette and/or Maribat fics)

Anyway, I just learned that writing about people crying SUCKS! Like, why is it so effing hard???? Why did no one warn me about this??? (I mean I should’ve seen it coming either way because EVeRYTHING ABOUT WRITING is hard). So I am very sorry in advance if this isn’t as good as it... whatever it is??? hahahaha because I gotta tell you, I just did this on a whim because WRITER’S BLOCK! THAT DUDE IS SO ANNOYING!!!

Oh and you know, I’m not sure if this is considered angst? Angst with Happy Ending?... So I just researched about it and asked ma chérie belle and she said yes? But I’m still not sure so I’m just going to tag it as one.

Anywho, umm the first part of my Daminette Age Gap AU just received 400 loves (that’s what I want to call it cuz I think it’s cute leave me be!) so let’s just say that the sole purpose of this oneshot is to satisfy my craving for crying stuff and to celebrate those 400 loves (thank god for convenient coincidences) that I received from you wonderful peeps!!!!

Enjoy~!

Warning: Swearing and cuss words are present. Please read with caution, thank you!

I’m Not Scared Of Anything, But Losing You Would Be Terrifying

Cruising down the alleyway with his Father right beside him in his Batmobile, the sirens of police cars rang in his ears.  

They had received a call from Commissioner Gordon not too long ago, saying how Scarecrow had escaped from Arkham and is causing havoc in a café somewhere. It would’ve been fine to just leave it with the GCPD and a few from their team but some reported that he was making a new concoction of his Fear Gas. Something much more intense.

Skidding to a stop, he takes off his helmet and walks to where his Father and the police were conversing.  

“Robin.” the Dark Knight nods to him as he places himself next to his looming figure.

Crossing the police tape and getting inside the café, Robin comes face to face with Scarecrow. A gun in his hand, pointing at the hostages as he laughs maniacally.  

“Scarecrow!” Batman calls from beside him, “Enough is enough! Let them go!”  

The villain throws his head back and laughs loudly, earning a snarl from both of the vigilantes.

“You see, dear Batman,” —Scarecrow raises his gun— “I’ve been wanting to try my new experiment.” he smirks at them and cocks his gun with his other hand.  

“And you’re just the right person for the job.”

Not a second after, his goons began ambushing them.  

Three goons began to circle him with their guns in hand and a demented smile on their face. If he hadn’t seen Scarecrow command them himself, he might’ve thought that the Joker was the one leading the attack.

With quick work with his Batarangs, he swiftly flings their guns out of their grasps.  

Seeing as how they’re disarmed; one goon throws a punch to his face. Robin’s hand immediately shots out and blocks his punch and twists it in a direction he was sure was not possible an arm could handle.

The goon screams in anguish, which gives Robin a momentum to punch him square in the face with his free hand and watches as the goon's nose drip with blood.  

Dropping the now passed out goon, he turns to the other two goons and kneels down and pulls out a Bo Staff.  

Letting out a battle cry, he lunges at them and whacks them to their side, which throws them to a few tables. The sound of cracks bringing satisfaction to his ears.

Finishing the goons, he turns to Scarecrow and sees him still sporting that smug smirk on his face. What’s his motive? Why is he still smiling even though they’re practically beating up his henchmen?

They briefly catch each other’s eyes and the villain’s smile grows even wider.

Robin scowls at the villain and readies himself in a battle stance.

Without even having the chance to take a step forward, Scarecrow raises his gun and shoots at his direction.  

Quickly sidestepping the bullet, he looks back at the villain, “You should really work on your aim.”

Scarecrow smirks at him mockingly, “Was I really aiming for you?”

What?

He looks behind him and sees a tank of Scarecrow’s Fear Gas punctured by his bullet.

Holy shit.

His eyes widen and he reaches to his utility belt to pull out a gas mask, but before he was able to put it on his face, a goon tackles him to the ground. Causing him to loosen his grip on the said mask.

“Fuck!” he mutters as he tries to wrestle free from the goon’s hold. “Get off me!”  

As he struggles to be free, he feels the mist cloud his vision. Blurring his surroundings and making everything indistinguishable.

“Get up!” he hears someone yell at his ears and the goon that was holding onto him disappears.  

He abruptly stands and closes his eyes shut. Clenching his jaw, he reminds himself that none of what he’ll see is real. To dismiss everything and pay it no mind because they are not real.

His breath becomes ragged and his heart thunders against his chest as he hears voices around him.  

‘None of this is real!’ he chants to himself and covers his ears.

The sounds slowly began dissipating and everything went quiet. Too quiet.  

“Damian!” an angelic voice suddenly cuts through the silence and calls out to him.

‘Habibti?’

He slowly and warily opens his eyes and is immediately met with a different environment.

Gone was the café he was previously in; he was now in a park surrounded by trees and some benches on the side. The sun was also shining brightly and the birds were chirping. Everything seemed perfect. Too perfect.

He looks down at himself and sees that he’s no longer wearing his Robin uniform but regular civilian clothing.  

‘What am I doing here?’

“Listen to me!” the sweet voice calls out to him again.

“Wha—?”  

“Look at me!” the voice shouts again and he feels his every being shake. Making him lose his balance and fall on the floor.  

“Marinette?” he calls out and looks around. Where was she?

Whipping his head around, he is immediately met with a mop of blue-black hair.

Relief floods his whole being as he stands up and goes over to her, “Hey, I’m here,” he smiles and reaches for her hand.

“No!” Marinette shouts and slaps his hand away. Only then did he notice that her comforting gaze had turned into a sharp glare. Her beautiful blue bell orbs gone as a dark sapphire blue filled with anger replaced it. Why was she looking at him like that? Had he done something wrong?

“H-Habibti—?”

“Stop calling me that!” he winces at her tone and Marinette’s scowl deepens. Her hands ball into fists that he was afraid she’d cut her skin with her nails.  

“W-What are you—?” he hastily reaches out to her once more.

“SHUT UP!” she shouts and everything shook again. Her face, still sporting that scowl, looks at him with disgust.

“I can’t believe I ever dated you,” she spat and steps back.

Damian recoils as though he’s been slapped in the face. He feels a twinge in his chest as though his heart has been pinched and punctured. No, please. She's the only thing that stayed in his life, don’t let her go now. Please.

“Marinette,” he calls as his hands reach out to her again, in to which Marinette avoided in distaste.  

Seeing how angry and disgusted she looked at him made something inside of him shatter. Was he that horrible to make her not want him touch to her? Was he that disgusting?

“Mari—”

“I can’t even stand to look at you right now.” he flinches as though he just received a punch to his gut. He wanted nothing more than to scoop her in his arms and cry and ask what he’d done wrong, but he can’t do that when she’s sneering at him with abhorrence.  

“I hate you, Damian,” she glowers in that tone that he hated so much. The one that he never wanted to be directed at him. But now it was.

He drops down to his knees and crawls to her feet, “I’m sorry,” he cries out.

Tears began to pool at the corner of his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeats in a strangled voice. But Marinette won’t even look at him anymore.  

“W-Whatever it was, I’m sorry,” he choked out as he pleaded at her feet.  

Marinette kicked at his hand away and seethed, “Don’t touch me,” she hissed as though his touch was dirty. He was dirty.

“I don’t ever want to see you again,” he blanches at her statement. His hands shook as big blobs of tears drip down his face. His heart beating sporadically as his ears rang with how everything seems to sound louder.

“Plea—”

“We’re through.”  

Everything felt numb. He couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t hear anything. Just that phrase repeating itself over and over again in his head. More tears began flowing down his face and he felt like he could drown, like he couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t believe that he’d one day hear those words. That those pink lips, those very same lips that he would kiss senselessly, would say that to him.

Marinette glares at him one last time and walks away, leaving him with his despair and depression eating him up.

He had always wished that this day would never come. But not all wishes come true. And now, he’s watching as the girl of his dreams, the love of his life, his girlfriend for four years leaves him. Leaves him and never comes back.

“P-Please,” he sobs as he reaches out to her disappearing form. “I promise, I’ll do better. Please, just don’t leave me.”  

He stands up and attempts to run after her. But he couldn’t. Hands were holding onto him and stopping him from running after the bluenette. Feeling like the whole world was against it. Like they wanted to see him suffer.

“No!” he shouts and thrashes around, trying to get the hands, that bound him to where he stood, off. Why were they so against it? So against him? Did the world really not want him to be happy?

“Please,” he wails and just stands there, letting his tears fall as the world takes away the only thing that made him feel free.  

He stood there and broke down as he watched his love disappear from his world; from his life. He cries out and screams shamelessly as he mourns for her dying love for him. As he hears and feels his own heart break from her rejection.

And he feels it. Feels their stares. Feels the whole world taunting him on how he just lost the only person who’d stayed by his side and accepted him. Making fun of how they knew he couldn’t do anything about it. How he was powerless.

He shuts his eyes tight and slides to the ground, wishing that this was all just a dream...

No.

This is not a dream. Because dreams are beautiful.  

This is a nightmare.

As he sits there and cries for Marinette, he feels a small prick on the back of his neck. And another. And a third. Then the slight cloudiness of his mind disappears as everything went black.  

————————

Fluttering his eyes open, Damian is met with a white ceiling and warmness on his face as the sunlight crept through the window.  

He lets out a groan and rubs the side of his head.  

‘Where am I?’

Roaming his eyes to check where he was, a flash of recognition comes across his green orbs. He was in his room. How?  

A soft click resounded from the door and captures his attention as a blue-black blur emerges, seeming to be whispering with something at the door.

‘What’s going on?’

He rubs at his eyes and groans again. Everything was bleary and his mouth felt rough and dry. What was he doing here? Back in his room? Wasn’t he at a café before?

“Dami?” he flinches at the voice and feels a warm sensation on his forehead.  

‘What is this?’

Damian reaches up to the warm... thing on his forehead and grasps it, trying to feel what it was. Was it... a hand? Why was there a hand touching his forehead? Wasn't he alone in his room?

Furrowing his eyebrows, he looks up to see a black—kind of blue—blob?... What the fuck?! Wha—What is this? What exactly is he seeing right now?

He raises his arm and tries to grab at the blueish black blob. And by grab, he meant fight. He was fighting to get the hand on his forehead off. Fighting to reach for the blue-black blob.

“Dove, calm down,” the blob speaks as it holds on to both of his hands to steady them. “It’s just me.”

Suddenly, his eyesight began clearing. The blurry things that he was seeing were no more, everything began getting clearer.  

The blue-black blob that he was trying to fight (and he was definitely not losing) was finally turning comprehensible.

His eyes widen at the thing—correction, person in front of him. His breath hitching and his heart beating against his chest as he stares at those familiar blue bell eyes.

“Habibti?”  

Marinette smiles softly at him. That same smile she always used to tell him that everything is all right. That smile that always seemed to make him feel calm, no matter the situation.  

“Yes, it’s me.”

Damian chokes out a sob and feels his tears pour down his cheeks again. He reaches out to her and buries his face on her chest, trying to relish the feeling as he was afraid that everything—that this might just be a dream.  

“Oh, dear.” he hears her mutter and feels her hand pat his head and smoothen his dark locks of hair. And it eased him a little. Made him feel that he was not hallucinating and that he was safe.  

“I heard what happened,” she says in that tone, that voice that sounds so soft and caring that it made him cry harder. “Your brothers said that you inhaled Scarecrow’s new concoction of Fear Toxin and that it was so strong, they had to triple the dosage of the antidote.”

Marinette continues to rub circles on his back and cradle him back and forth as he continues to cry. Making him feel like he was a child, safe in his beloved's arms.  

“I wish I could have been there,” she whispers and holds him tighter. Something that made him feel safe and away from the world, even if her arms were dainty and delicate. “Could have helped you.”

Damian feels his emotions and cries come back tenfold as he remembers what he saw when he was still influenced by the Fear Toxin. How hurt and devastated he was. How his whole world fell apart.  

“I-I thought—” he hiccups, “—you were going to leave me.” he sobs harder and feels the spot on her shirt where he was crying go wet.

“No.” she pulls away from him just a bit and looks at his face, “I will never leave you.” her voice so raw with emotion, so sincere that it made him cry and thank whoever was up there that they are together.

She reaches up to his face and caresses his cheek, “I love you.” she smiles and kisses his forehead. Her lips so soft against his skin that he sometimes wondered if he just so much as to touch it the wrong way, would it tear open and bleed a pretty red color?

“I love you too.” he croaks out as he feels his voice go hoarse with all the crying. God, if his brothers could see him now, they’d for sure tease him for the rest of his life.

————————

OMAKE: 

Marinette – *is lying down with Damian tucked in her arms* Wanna tell me about it?

Damian – ...It was terrifying.

Marinette – I thought you said you were fearless?

Damian – *pouting* I am! But that was seriously horrifying!

Marinette – Don’t you mean SCAREy?

Damian – UGH

Marinette – HAHAHAHA XD

Damian – You have got to stop hanging out with Grayson

————————

Edit: Okay, I forgot that I was suppose to tag people.. sorry ^^; and uh I’m still not sure on how to do this whole tagging thing so I’m sorry if I missed some people 

Tags:

@thornalchemist23

@abrx2002

@k-poplunardreams

@joejoejodee

[redbelles]

@anthropologicalhands​ here you go! thanks for the ask ✨

hilariously, i p. much can’t write unless i have a title in mind? it seems to shape the story as i go, so i typically end up stealing song lyrics as soon as i have an idea, if only to put myself out of my misery. anyway! atla, twd, rdr2, ac: origins, dc, and pitch under the cut!

in our bedroom, after the war

post-series atla zutara au wherein i geek about politics and reconstruction and consequences, and also break zuko into tiny sad pieces before katara gets to smooch him. also there is a dragon.

and wept for break of day

twd au: post-coda, (loosely) inspired by the short story “bullet in the brain”; eventual bethyl

Mass hallucinations, one broadcaster said. String theory. The collective unconscious. Just a whole buncha scared fools, grasping at straws while the world reels, trying to understand something too big and too ugly to ever understand. 

She sits there in the dirt, numb and shaking, hands clenched so tight that her nails bite deep into her palms. She presses harder, carving sharp little crescents into skin that’s not nearly as callused as it should be. 

The world feels like it’s falling away beneath her, spinning out wildly, carrying her someplace foreign and strange. Her skull throbs and aches. There’s no scar on her wrist. Beneath the dirt, her nails are painted cornflower blue, bright and vivid as a summer sky. The dead don’t walk. 

But they did, didn’t they?

I lived it. I remember.

it ain’t no sin

twd au: beth wakes up during her abduction and it gives daryl time to reach the car, and then daryl and beth bang about it

She doesn’t hear the familiar twang of the bow, but when the word chokes off into a gurgle of blood and the graceless thump of a body hitting the ground, she knows.

Daryl comes sprinting out of the darkness, quiet as a hunting cat. The driver’s side door swings open, the cop’s buddy stepping out to try and salvage the situation. Daryl fires, reloads, and fires again, so fast her eyes can’t follow it. She’s so dizzy that it seems like one smooth motion. One breath, just long enough to aim, and then the arrows are gone and Beth and Daryl are alone in the night. The men are dead. 

Good, she thinks fiercely, angry and shaken and still unable to stand. Good. 

He goes straight to the bodies as she finally hauls herself onto the grass, listening as he yanks the bolts free. Three awful squelches; visceral, obscene. She gags again, and then Daryl is there, dropping to his knees beside her. 

“Y’alright?”

late for the sky

rdr2 au: arthur/sadie, set immediately after the massacre at hanging dog ranch

“You didn’t have to stay,” she calls. There’s an ache in her voice he doesn’t know how to parse. 

“Sure.” He leaves it at that, no fuss about letting Freyja rest, about needing to catch his breath, though neither would be a lie. There’s no room for chatter; the air between them is full up with grief.

“Sure?”

No meat on that bone, but he can see her chewing it over all the same, worrying at it. Sadie Adler, shaken. If he held a mirror up to her face, he’s half-afraid he’d see fire. Smoke, ash, the orange blaze of a cabin as it burns to cinders. 

The memory sends a chill skittering down his spine, a cold knife that lodges somewhere near his heart. 

He ain’t the only one held hostage by that particular cruelty. Still knee-deep in the river, Sadie shivers. The water keeps running red around her, blood flaking off her hair and skin, melting into the current, soft as snow.

this loneliness won’t last

rdr2 au: arthur/john/abigail post-game fix it fic

There was heat pouring off John. A droplet of sweat trailing down his cheek. He smelled like salt and sunbaked earth. The thought skimmed through his mind like a water on a pane of glass, crystal clear and out of reach all the same. Then John’s mouth crashed over his, and Arthur had no thought left. 

He couldn’t help himself. He bent into John like a windswept tree, looking for shelter. Looking for relief. John pulled him in, held him close, hands fisted in the worn fabric of Arthur’s shirt. Need kindled in his blood, bright and sharp and burning, and he stiffened. Pulled away. John wouldn’t have it. He pulled him back in, nipped at his mouth, trailed fire over his skin, kissed him like Arthur was his to keep.

He wanted to run and hide. He wanted to stay right where he was and live in this moment forever. But then it was over: John stepped away, breathing hard. His fingers were still wound in Arthur’s shirt. He let go like it hurt. 

“Don’t leave,” he said, staring at Arthur like he could sear the words into him. Make him stay through force of will alone. 

And then he was gone, just like always, just like before.

pieces rendered

ac: origins post-game, post-dlc bayek/aya fix it fic

Amunet, he reminds himself, wincing at the cool bite of aloe against raw skin. It is hard to remember in moments like these, alone in the twilight dimness of the cave mouth, safe from the eyes and ears of those who have only ever known her as a Hidden One. 

She is Aya in his thoughts, sometimes, no matter how well he guards his tongue. When the world slips and the ache of all he’s lost will not subside, that is the name that rises in his heart. Wife, lover, friend. Mother of his child, the woman he once thought would walk beside him in this life and the next. Aya. 

Amunet is the shadow of a wild wind, always blowing away from him. “North,” she told him once, “to set the sea aflame.”

She did. She does. 

Perhaps someday he will come to terms with that.

stolen car

sprawling fic series that explores the batfam universe through the lens of jacy petra todd, the second robin. the bad robin.

She holds a gun to a rapist’s head and presses the muzzle into skin hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough to make the piece of shit kneeling in front of her whimper. 

They’re in a warehouse out by the docks, in the corner of a shadowy park, in some shitty back alley, trash piled up in careless heaps and the rats ignoring them. It’s nothing they haven’t seen before. There’s blood on the ground. There is always blood on the ground. 

“Please,” they say, “please, don’t do this.”

“Come on,” she says, laughing. They hate it when she laughs. The helmet distorts her voice, turning it harsh and metallic, until the sound of it is like a knife under their skin. It is a weapon like any other; she is not afraid to use it. “Beg some more. See where it gets you.”

They cry, or retch, or shake, big tough men learning what it feels like to be powerless. Sometimes they piss themselves, the sharp odor of urine burning against the stink of blood and gunpowder. 

The Bat may rule Gotham, but Crime Alley is the Red Hood’s haunt, and her lines are hard and fast. Everyone in the city knows what happens when you cross them.

“Please,” they say, staring up at her, searching flat red metal for an ounce of mercy. They never meet her eyes. Instead, they look where a mouth should be, and beg, just like she tells them to. “Please, please, I won’t do it again, I’ll never do it again, please!”

The gun doesn’t waver. Gotham beat the softness out of her wayward daughter years before Batman ever found her, before Robin ever fluttered into the Joker’s path, before she seared and burned and screamed her way back to consciousness in the Lazarus Pit. 

“No,” she tells them, voice like a knife, gun steady in her hands—

stone by stone

sequel to no burden that will not float away featuring shitty coffee, former robins being bad at feelings, and the current robin judging them for it

[fire from fire]

[redacted] au where [redacted] dies and [redacted] snaps

She walks through the streets like a reckoning. She does not sing.

with a hawk above you crying

wonder woman fic inspired by emmylou harris’s michelangelo

last night i dreamed about you / i dreamed you lay dying / in a field of thorn and roses / with a hawk above you crying / for the warrior slain in battle / from an arrow driven deep inside you long ago—

Diana finds Antiope, and loses her, and finds her again.

you know the time is now

pitch, mike/ginny, mid-season onward au where they actually have to deal with their feelings

after all the bullshit surrounding the all-star game, mike decides he needs to take a step back, distance himself a bit from the ginny baker madness. so of course the first thing he does after the all-star game is get into a brawl. he can’t even blame it on some sort of convenient rage blackout. he makes a calm, rational decision to follow the fucker up the first base path, and calmly, rationally punches him in the face while ginny watches, stunned, from the mound.

varitek a-rod brawl whomst???

ask me about my wips!

[tiny-maus-boots]

Wild West AU pt 19

A/N: thanks for all the feedback and encouragement y’all. it’s very much appreciated. 

A/N 2: Thank you B for always doing the thing and the beta. ILYAN @chloes-yellow-cup

Beca

 There was an endless moment when she was suspended midair that she regretted her choice to aim for the window. The thought that the glass might not give under her weight was a huge factor in that regret. Of course it was too late to do anything about it at that point so she had tucked herself as tight as she could, using her arms to protect her face and prayed she could cannon ball right through. For one frightening heartbeat her body had met resistance and she was sure Chloe would kill her for dying so stupidly. But her momentum and weight broke the glass and shards of it rained down on her as she landed hard on the floor and rolled to a painful stop flat on her back in the center of a great room.

“Shitshitshitshit… I can’t believe that worked.”

Beca sat up and winced as she pulled a chunk of glass out of her forearm. It was definitely going to need stitches, she knew that much. She muttered a few choice curses and tore a strip of cloth off the bottom of a curtain to tie around her arm tightly. She gave her fist a few squeezes to make sure she still had grip strength but it was all she had time for. Whoever was downstairs had heard her crash and was coming to investigate. She counted out the footsteps noting that there was just one man which meant there were likely more downstairs. The floor creaked ominously just outside the door and she moved low and to the right.

The small woman slipped two perfectly weighted throwing knives out of her chest brace and hunkered down low behind the pot-bellied stove for cover. The door swung open hard and fast and a man pushed into the room with both his guns drawn, firing wildly into the living space visible from his spot. More glass shattered and splinters of wood blew off the walls and furniture. She waited for his body to make the slow arc away before she rose up and let the blades fly.

They sunk home in his body and he dropped to the ground in a slow collapse, eyes still blinking even though he was as good as dead already. Beca scooted over to him, mindful of the guns in his hands and pulled her knives free. There was a scuffle of sound from the bottom of the stairs and Beca eased herself across the room to the door to cautiously scan the hall.

“Junior? What’s happening? Junior!”

Beca backed away from the door when she saw movement at the bottom of the stairs. The warped floorboard under her foot shifted and groaned and whoever was at the bottom stopped all movement. She glanced at Junior dead on the ground and considered dumping him down the stairs as a distraction but they’d hear the effort and that took away any element of surprise.

“I really should have planned this better…” She muttered to herself as she looked around, eyes landing on the kerosene lamp hanging from a nail on the wall. A hint of a smile quirked her lips and Beca snagged it off the wall.

“Whoever it is up there, you came here to die. I’ll kill you myself you whore.”

The woman snorted softly as she loosened the base from the wick plate just enough to stay together. The wood shifted loudly under a man’s weight and she heard the soft inhale as he froze in the vain hope that she didn’t hear him. Beca shook her head raised the jaw harp to her lips as she gauged him to be about halfway up the stairs. She waited until after she had lit the lamp to strum her harp with a single twang.

Sheriff Cox’s voice rang out with a loud rough bark of an order but Beca had already stepped into the hall, lamp raised to pitch it into the man on the stairs chest.

“Pete no! Get back, its Mitch…”

It had done what she hoped and brought out all the chickens from the henhouse. Sheriff Cox and another man had given up their hiding spots in warning, too late for poor old Pete, as the lamp erupted on impact in a spray of hot oil and licking flames that crawled over his body. Beca took two running steps down the stairs and vaulted over the railing as the men struggled to put out the flames engulfing their friend.

His screams were terrible and deafening and she knew later when she was tucked into Chloe’s arms late at night that she’d still hear the echoes of his pain. Pain she had caused, Beca sighed softly and shook her head as she crouched behind a shelf.

“Damn you Mitchell! Damn you to hell! Aw goddamnit Pete, oh goddamnit.” The sounds of scuffling and frantic stomping let her know exactly where everyone was. Pete was at the foot of the stairs where he had tumbled to. The other man was closer and a few steps to the left trying to put out the last of the flames from the lamp. Sheriff Cox was pacing back and forth by Pete. She couldn’t tell yet if he was trying to see where she’d gotten to or if he was just that damn distressed. She voted for the former and it was confirmed when he spoke again. “You ruined him good for your little distraction. He’ll lose a whole season of crops while he heals up.”

Beca wedged herself into a corner where she could press her back against the shelf and brace her feet against the wall. “He’s alive ain’t he?” He might need help but it was better than being dead though she probably wouldn’t say she had been merciful. He was in for some hard days ahead. A shot rang out with a crack and a mason jar of peaches broke two shelves up. “He’ll get back to whatever the hell it is you all do for fun here. I wanna say cow fucking?”

He growled and fired off another couple of rounds in her general direction. One winged by her ear just a hair too close for comfort but it meant he had finally moved exactly where Beca had wanted him. “You couldn’t just give up the gold, you had to burn through this town on your way to hell. All this blood is on your hands, Mitchell.”

She chanced a glance between the shelves, watching as he moved another step closer to peer around some barrels. “Didn’t have to be this way Cox. All this…this is on you. We only came for a drink while our horses were being shoed. You got greedy.”

Cox pivoted toward the sound of her voice and fired again until his gun clicked empty. Beca groaned and pushed off with her legs as hard as she could. The tall shelving creaked in protest then started an almost comically slow descent. The sheriff had been distracted trying to reload when it toppled, he gave a shout but the heavy wooden frame crunched down on his head, trapping him in an avalanche of supplies and dry goods.

That just left one man between her and Benji. Beca scrambled away from the fallen shelves to find cover behind the long countertop. Bullets whizzed by and she cursed herself for bringing knives to a gun fight. Somewhere behind her she could hear the Sheriff groaning and shifting, trying to free himself. It had bettered her odds but it wouldn’t hold him for long. In the seconds between shots she raised up to survey the area then dropped down again. It was going to be an awkward throw but she knew where he was now. On the empty click of the gun she rose and launched her blades. They went wide of the mark who had been smart enough to move.

She dropped to a knee and pulled her last two blades out of her chest rig. If she missed again she’d be out of weapons and outnumbered. “Hey law dog…I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said I was giving up?”

“Don’t suppose I would. Harry told me you’re sneaky as the devil in a dress.”

Another shot and she flinched at the nearness of it. “Harry? Wait…his name is Harry Cox? Well that is quite the moniker.” She moved stealthily to the other end of the counter and peeked around the edge. “What about you? What’s your name?”

“Don’t see how it matters much.”

He moved a few steps closer to the stairs and she popped up to throw her knives. This time one sunk home in his shoulder, the other skimming harmlessly past to bury itself in the wall behind him. Beca closed the distance between them in an easy lope that had her skirting tables and neatly climbing over the shambles of shelves. The man pulled her knife out of his shoulder and started to raise his gun but she was already there to knock his hand wide and deliver a devastating upper cut. He dropped like a sack and she grunted in satisfaction.

“Thank you Deputy No Name.” Beca took the gun from his limp hand and checked the cylinder. There was one shot left and she knew just where it belonged. The small brunette picked her way over to Sheriff Cox’s side, choosing to sit on the wooden frame pinning him to the ground. She raised the gun to him as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Well…this was one hell of a ride, Harry.”

“They’ll come for it and you, you know that right? Ain’t no place y’all can run that can’t be found.”

He struggled and pushed, trying to squeeze himself out from under the shelf but it was all for show because they both knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one. Beca stood and pointed the gun at him, her head tipped to the side as she considered.

“Reckon you’re right about that. But the people coming for me? They won’t be you.” She squeezed the trigger and fired a shot into his head. Beca tossed the gun aside and climbed over the wreckage to get to the storeroom. It had been boarded shut and she wondered how long Benji had been trapped in it. “Benj…ya in there?”

There was a quiet shuffle of noise then a surprisingly cheerful if tired chuckle. “Knew you’d come for me.”

Beca hefted a pry bar and ripped the boards from door frame. It took a good few wrenches before the door gave and swung open to reveal a bruised and severely beaten Benji. “I should have shot that son of a bitch more.” She tossed the pry bar away and grabbed his hand to help him stand. “Can you walk?”

“Miss Mitchell, I’ll walk anywhere you tell me to.” She nodded and pulled his arm over her shoulder to help him limp out of the room. “Is Emily alright? Did you manage to get to them in time?”

It was sweet and she smiled softly as she patted his chest. “She’s fine, I promise. Let’s worry more about getting out of here before the dust settles. You gotta come with us now. Sorry Deputy, but you’ll likely be a wanted man from here out.”  

“How much do you think my bounty will be?”

Beca couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at his question. “Twenty dollars at least.”

“Twenty?! I’da thought that I’d at least get a hundred. Twenty. Really?” Yeah, he’d fit in with the gang just fine. Benji stopped them as they passed the Sheriff and painfully reached down to rip the badge off the dead man’s chest. He let out a deep regretful sigh and pocketed the badge. “You don’t deserve this, not even in death old man.”

“C’mon Deputy, let’s get on home to your girl.”

[holymintea]

A Bullet.

A Bullet (part 1)

Bright blue sky, sweet chocolate ice cream. My sister and I were strolling around the little “Secret Plaza”, as we like to call it, eating ice cream and talking about the future, just like any other day, and I still can’t seem to recall a sign, anything we could possibly do to make a difference.  

A second later, a chilling scream break through the lovely atmosphere, people running in panic and a gray mist that came out from nowhere start surrounding us. In the  middle of the confusion, Tania take me with force into her arms, trying quickly to get to us to safe place, if it existed one. The whole place was chaotic, my breath agitated and my sister digging her nails in my skin with force, almost as it she was scared I would run away from her, when I heard a gunshot, or so I think, as I never had heard one before. 

Suddenly, Tania leap forward, bringing me with her, crashing to the ground right behind a car. It was painful, my knees were scratched and the fall made me hurt my hand and was bleeding a lot, but I could feel it, we were almost outside our “Secret Plaza”, almost safe, when the embrace of my sister became warmer and warmer, and she didn’t move. 

I turn to face her, my hand reaching her bosom, when our eyes meet. I want to live. I’m scared. My sister was expressing with her eyes what she would never say in fear I didn’t obey her next words.

“Run.”

A bullet pierced my big sister, deep red blood now dripping from the grip I had on her, and I knew for sure it was her blood. I can’t do it. Tremors run through my body, I couldn’t stop looking at my hand with tears running through my face, and I thought for a moment I was going to faint, but Tania didn’t let me ponder too much before grabbing my shoulders and trying to make me stand up, footsteps getting closer and gunshots louder.

“Mary, you need to run, now!”

The fear in her voice make me snap out of it, and I stood up. I couldn’t do anything, but if I ask for help, maybe they would be able to save her, and so, I run.

A few meters away there was an intersection, and to the right, down the street, it was located a small police station. Running with all my might, and right before the turning point I look back.

There was a man, tall, wearing a black cloth covering his mouth, a green t-shirt, jeans and gun just above big sister’s head. Tania was crying, and the man, pointing his gun on her forehead, just pull the trigger, taking her life.

It was the loudest noise I have heard in my life, and right before my eyes the world shattered. I was petrified, I couldn’t move at all, not comprehending completely what had just happened, is like I was inside this big bubble that numbed my senses, and in the corner of my eye I could see some cops running at me from the other side of the intersection.

They couldn’t save her, I couldn’t save Tania.

And just when I thought time was stopped for ever, the man look up at me. I don’t know what I was expecting from the eyes that saw the lifeless body of my sister falling to the ground, but I was terrified. His bloodshot eyes held rage, resentment, confusion, craziness, and a clear expression of I don’t have anything to lose.

But a lot to gain, it seems.

He pointed at me and shot.

“WATCH OUT!”

Suddenly, a strong arm pull me to the safety of the intersection, the bullet lightly grazing my right cheek.

It was another man, wearing a light blue t-shirt, just like the sky.

I hear him cursing, and more people start to confront the bad guys, from what I see, it was a mix between civilians with guns and police officers. In the midst of it all, the blue guy stay with me, making me sit not too far away from the gun mess, but enough to check my body in search of a wound, when a pretty lady officer come closer to us. 

“Peter, you shouldn't be here. It’s dangerous.”

“I know Karen, but please help me, she have too much blood on her clothes.”

It’s not mine.

The officer proceed to check me up, but the reminder of my sister brings up again the tears in my eyes.

“Shh, it’s alright darling, you’re safe now, apart from scratches, you’re good.”

“I don’t think so…” I can’t almost recognize my voice, subtle, weak and broken, as I say. “If I was okay, why do I feel a bullet in my heart?”

Deep, down deep in my heart stays this extreme ache that threat to eat me ‘till I’m nothing but dust. Tania is gone. A pain so strong, I just lost conscious.

--------------------------------------------------------

Yes, this is Nano procrastination at it’s finest. :P

[fireloom]

You Make Me Bleed

A prompt fill for @luciferprompts! The story is not exactly like the prompt but the general theme is similar. Since I had this sitting lonely in my drafts I thought I'd stick it onto a prompt and see if anyone likes it :P very messy, very quick so don't be too harsh! My first, but certainly not last, Lucifer fanfic. Critique very welcome! Please enjoy :)

Neither can you.

The words have hardly a moment to pass through Lucifer’s head before the comforting, foreboding feeling of mortality embraces him. The phantom pain of his damaged wings return. Lucifer already knows Chloe is near before her footsteps echo down the stairs. At her call of his name, he masks his agony and stands to turn to her.

Chloe halts in her stride and stares. She stares not at Peirce's body, not at the carnage of henchmen around them, nor the bloodied feathers scattering the floor. She stares at Lucifer.

"It's all real." She steps back once, twice, thrice... Lucifer’s heart drops in his chest. He can always tell the face of a mortal discovering divinity. It can only mean one thing in this moment. And what a horribly ironic thing it is aswell.

Lucifer want to say something, anything to calm the detective, to show her he is still the same person, even though he is the the Devil. Not a word gets past his lips before pain takes over. The numbing immortality gave him is gone. The blood pours once more.

Lucifer sputters a great cough, and clutches at his stomach, sinking to his knees. He wretches up red flecks into his hands as a terrible coughing fit overtakes him. His mind fogs with the first signs of blackout. Blood pours down his shoulders through the multi-dimensional doorway in which he hides his wings. He didn't even know his wings could bleed like this. At least The skin on his hands is returning to it's normal pinky human colour.

Chloe snaps out of her trance as best she can and runs up to him. Devil or not, he's hurt and needs her help. "I'll call for an ambulance."

"No hospitals," lucifer groans through clenched teeth. "Lux!" Chloe grabs his arm and lifts him to his feet. She helps him hobble outside and shoved him in her car. By the time Chloe climbs into the driver's seat, Lucifer has lost consciousness.

______

Three suburbs, two red lights, and one narrowly avoided accident later and Chloe speeds the police car, sirens raging, down the highway. Lucifer is unconscious. He drifts between awareness blackout every few minutes. Chloe is more than worried for him, but secretly relieved for his stupor. She doesn't hear his tormented cries of pain that break her heart in two.

Chloe's eyes wander off the road for a second and when they return the tail lights of the car ahead comes closer than she anticipated. Chloe floors the breaks and the car is send slowing with loud skids. She braces against the stopping momentum that pushes her body forward, then jerks back as her car halts a mere foot from the forward car’s number plate.

Lucifer, who is too passed out to brace himself, bashes his head against the seat back as the car stops. He comes crashing back into consciousness. A guttural groan escapes his lips as he keens forward, taking his head in his hands. He grasps at his hair in an attempt to quiet the growls of anguish.

Chloe frowns and grits her teeth. She's never seen so much pain in one person before, and especially not the one person who pretends he doesn't feel any. Lucifer's whines dwindle to whimpers. He raises his head and peers out the windscreen. His eyes widen.

"No! No hospitals." They pass sign after sign stating the hospital is on the second exit, five miles ahead.

"You're dying!" Chloe protests, "you need to go to the ER."

"I need to go to Lux." Chloe clenches the steering wheel and accelerates. "I can't-" lucifer scrunched his face and grits his teeth against another wave of agony. "C-cant control it."

Before Chloe can ask what, Lucifer's left wing shoots out and smacks her in the face.Her chest is splattered with tiny red droplets of blood. She loses grip of the wheal and the car swerves dangerously.

Lucifer pulls his bloodied wings back to his chest but he hasn't the consciousness to vanish them. Instead the curl around his torso. To Chloe they look almost like a cocoon. He's right. Lucifer can turn up to the hospital with his (Chloe can't believe she's thinking this) divinity on display.

Chloe pulls away from the highway and turns toward Lux.

_____

The elevator door opens to Lucifer's apartment and the two stumble out. Lucifer relies heavily on Chloe's support to stay upright. By now his suit is blood stained and getting even damper. How much can these wings bleed? He can also feel four... no five bullets lodged in his body. Nowhere vital at least.

"Lucifer!" Dan and Ella exclaim at once and leap forward to help him. They take his arms and begin to lead him to the couch. At the edge of the lounge lucifer can stand no longer and drops to his knees. He catches himself by his hands on the floor. All police officers immediately come to his aid.

Chloe pushes in front and lifts his chest, draping his arms over her shoulders and pushing him to sit back onto his heels. Lucifer's vision swims in black but he can still make out Chloe's face in front of his. Her eyes fill with concern. Tears pricks at their edges. Lucifer manages the strength to bring his hand to Chloe's head. He leans forward to press his forehead to hers. Lucifer stares into her with eyes of the underworld.

"You need to leave," he whispers.

Chloe shakes her head. "No. I'm staying." Lucifer begins to protest but another wave of pain flow through his body. He hunches forward, moving his hands to her shoulders and digging his nails into her skin. His eyes begin to sting with the coming of tears. Lucifer's whole body shakes from exertion. Now he also shakes with sobs that begin to rack his chest. For some reason, crying alleviates the pain, if only for a moment. He hardly thinks of what a scene he must be making, how worried his friends would be. Too much is hurting for him to care for such trivial matters.

The flood gates break and out flows the stream of cries and broken breaths. He lifts his head and locks eyes with chloe, knowing his are full of torment. In a voice plagued with pity and whimper, Lucifer cries her name. Not in a way of blame or forsaking but how a child calls for their mother. Darkness takes hold as his broken voice tempers out. He collapses into chloe's arms.

______

Chloe holds Lucifer close for a moment longer than necessary. Her eyes scrunch shut and arms tremble. Her heart aches for him. It's all her fault. It was for her that he might have given his life. Not now, Lucifer. You can't leave now. Chloe needs you.

"What the hell happened?" Dan ponders to no one in particular. Chloe doesn't answer. There are more important things to do. She motions for them to help her move him to the couch. As they lay him down he regains consciousness.

Ella pulls out her cell phone and begin to dail. "I'm calling an ambulance."

"No hospitals," lucifer repeats for the nth time this night. Ella ignores him and calls anyway.

"Don't call them," Chloe states with seriousness.

Ella looks to her in bewilderment. "He's dying, Chloe! He needs help."

Chloe gives her the hardest stare she's ever managed. For lucifer, she will not let them call an ambulance. He can overcome this, Chloe is sure. She hopes... "Don't call." Ella puts her phone away. "You can help by bandaging his wounds."

With hesitation and concern in their eyes, Dan and Ella run off to find a first aid kit. "Detective," Lucifer whispers, meeting eyes with her. "You need to leave me."

"No lucifer. I'm staying here." Lucifer winces and grits his teeth for a moment.

"You can't..."

Chloe's voice becomes desperate and cracked, "I can't leave you." Ella returns with bandages and gauze, going to work to identify the sources of blood. Dan comes with towels and pure strength vodka to sterilize.

"You have to, it's the only way." Chloe can't accept that. She cannot leave when her partner is falling Ill with gunshot wound. Not when the bullets were meant for her.

"I can't... Can't leave you."

"You have to," Lucifer raises his voice. Chloe stays adamant in her refusal to leave. "Detective," he warns with a hint of aggression. "Leave now."

Chloe takes a breath. "No." Lucifer lashes out, grabbing Chloe by the throat and pulling her close. Dan springs forward to pry his arm away but the sudden strength lucifer has found overpowers him. Chloe's surprise is not in the action but how lightly Lucifer holds her.

He brings his mouth against her ear. "You make bleed."

Chloe's eyes widen. Vulnerability. It's not just some metaphor anymore. These words have meaning now.

"I will heal if you're not here.” Lucifer pulls away. A snarl spreads across his mouth but his eyes portray sorry and they beg for forgiveness. "Now leave me alone." He articulates every word like the jab of a knife. To Chloe he mouths the words 'believe me.' She gives an almost inconceivable nod.

Lucifer loosens his grip on her then turns to Dan and Ella, who give him scared looks. "All of you! Get away from me!"

Chloe begins to stand but not until she secretly slips Lucifer's phone into his hand. "Come on, let's leave him be. We'll call an ambulance on the way out. He's too volatile for us to handle." Chloe speaks in a cold manor. Dan doesn't protest and goes to collect the hitman still cuffed up in the next room. Ella looks confused and begins to argue but Chloe shuts her up with a cold look.

Chloe can't tell if this is the right thing, but Ella's own words come into her mind. Chloe must have faith. Faith that Lucifer will heal in her absence, that he won't leave her to return to his fiery home down below...

Dan and Ella accompanied by the hitman enter the elevator. Chloe stays a moment more. She asks in her eyes if this is the right thing to do. Lucifer nods very seriously.

"Stay safe." Chloe enters the elevator.

As soon as the door closes, Lucifer cries a devastating wail, his wings finally unfolding in a flurry of damaged feathers.

______

In the elevator, Chloe pulls out her phone and begins to dial. She presses it to her ear. Someone answers.

"I need an ambulance. A civilian has been wounded. He's taking refuge in the penthouse above the nightclub Lux. He has suffered multiple gunshot wounds and is bleeding profusely. He needs medical attention. Dispatch immediately." Chloe waits for the person to answer.

"Thank you, Detective,” Lucifer utters.