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deadsetobsessions · 2 months

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Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 6 months

Text

Winter Sounds — Campbell Bain x Reader

*This chapter has words with slashes. This is means you use the word that applies to where you live. Like GED in America means "General Educational Development Test" while there is no U.K. Equivalent (based off a thirty-second Google search) but I found A-Levels which is what Rose Tyler refers to when talking about school in the revival Pilot so... this is how I learn about things, I pick up what I've heard in TV shows. Obviously there are other countries but I’ve never heard of any other terms for these so comment if I missed some.*

Summary: It’s Campbell and Y/n’s last day together before he goes traveling for a Radio DJ competition, unfortunately Y/n can’t come with and Campbell has become a little clingy

Warnings: Mentions of the suicide of a good friend of theirs, Spoilers for Takin' Over the Aslyum, Winter activities, Skating, Implied Short Reader, Implied Non-Scottish Reader; Mention of Past Toxic Relationship; Referenced but not mentioned relationship involving rape.

Note: I had the perfect gif for this when it was on Wattpad but I have a new laptop now and they took down my account and I can't find the gif. It was a gif of a couple kssing on the ice and then they slipped and both fell down.

(Post-Asylum; May be connected to "Sweet Jane" or read alone; If you decided to include this in Sweet Jane, this takes place between the ending of the series and the epilogue written by me.)

"I want your love to consume me like an oversized winter coat. Hands clasped around my waist like buttons done up properly."

Early March, 1995 (Early Eight months since the events of Takin’ Over the Asylum)

youtube

They had known for nearly two months that Campbell would be leaving but Y/n was on her way to get her A-Levels/GED since she had dropped out of secondary school/high school to go to the asylum but now it seemed that it had hit Campbell as he was even more clingy than normal.

"Campbell." She groaned as he hugged her from behind as she was trying to make Scottish Lentil soup for the two.

"But... baaaabe, I'm leaving tomorrow. I won't be able to see you in three weeks." He whined, burying his head into her back. "I won't be able to touch you. I won't be able to snuggle you as we sleep. I won't' be able to hear your voice."

"We can still talk on the phone." She protested.

"It's not the same! I won't be able to kiss your back." He whined.

He kissed her back before trailing to her shoulder as he pulled her sleeve up to reveal her shoulder and kissed it, "I won't be able to kiss your shoulder." He moved to her neck, "I won't be able to kiss your neck." He grasped her hips and turned her around and kissed her cheek, moving to her jaw and chin. "I won't be able to kiss your cheeks, your chin, your jaw." He pulled away to ease her to the counter beside the stove before pressing her against it as she couldn't help but smile and giggle. He kissed up her face to her forehead. "I won't be able to kiss your face." He tilted her head up and he kissed her lips. "I won't be able to kiss your lips."

"Cam... we..." He kept quieting her with kisses before moving to her neck, though it seemed he was taking in her scent as he kissed her neck. She had leaned her head back so he could have access with he happily obliged with open-mouthed kisses. "Campbell, it's five. I, uh, I had some plans for a date tonight. But we need to eat first."

"What kind of date? Dinner? Movie?" He hummed.

"No, that's why we're eating now." She said.

"Wait a minute, it's nearly twelve in the morning. What date takes place after midnight?"

"It'll be outside. You'll need to dress in warm clothing. But I need to finish the soup first."

He gave her a smile with a deep emotion in his eyes, she couldn't quite detect, "What?"

"I just love you so bloody much." He said, earnestly.

Campbell and Y/n walked through Glasgow with her being all vague which kept Campbell frustrated and all pouty.

"Be patient, Cam."

"I'm not a patient person!" He almost yelled.

"Oh, I know." She said, playing with her satchel that she refused to show Campbell what it contained. "Just wait and see."

"Just wait and see!? Do you have any idea how irritating that is!?" He whined.

She eventually led him to a park, it was a rather snowy March, so the pond at the park was frozen, she took a pair of ice skates out of her satchel.

"You want to skate at one in the morning?" He laughed.

"Well, I'm a looney." She teased.

"Yes, you are." He grinned and kissed her, he cupped her face with both hands. "Yes, you are."

Ten minutes later, Y/n was teaching Campbell how to skate, though he was a bit clumsy but she kept him up by holding his hand.

At one point, she did an impressive spin, which made her hair spin around her head like a H/C halo as Campbell watched with a dropped jaw... drooling slightly.

"How'd you learn how to do this anyways?" He laughed, flailing his arms, trying to keep himself upright.

Y/n spun around and her smile faltered before turning bittersweet, "Uh, when I first arrived to Saint Jude's... Fergus took me."

"Oh."

"He took me a few times, not even expecting me to talk. I picked this up quick and I even laughed. He considered that a victory." She said, sadly.

Campbell slid over to her and embraced her, which he originally intended to do but also to stop him from falling. "I miss him too." Campbell said in her ear, he pulled away.

She handed her hand out in front of her, offering it to him which he took and she skated with him, he... well, to say, he got the hang of it isn't right, but he wasn't completely fall-on-his-face-with-each-stroke terrible.

At one point, she tripped and nearly fell but Campbell caught her through this threw him off balance and he fell with Y/n landing on top of him.

They laughed at this and kissed, they decided they had had enough and put their shoes on that they had clipped to their belts and got up on the ice.

Campbell brushed off some snow and then turned to his girlfriend who was looking at him with a sparkle in her eyes.

"What?" He laughed.

"I love you so bloody much too." She said.

He grinned... like a maniac... like a looney and he pulled her in by the waist for a slow, passionate kiss but slipped on the ice now wearing his normal shoes and he pulled Y/n closed which brought them both down with her, once again, landing on his chest.

"I just can't play it cool." He laughed.

"I don't know. Nineteen-year-old Radio DJ. Hyperactive, loud, energetic, passionate, enthuastic, charismatic, spontaneous, easy-going, creative, independent, brave, funny, sarcastic, sexy..." He clicked his tongue and winked at her.

"Mmm, do say more things you like about my personality." He hummed, playing with a short lock of hair of hers.

"Impulsive, loud, hard to keep track off." She teased.

"Oh, you wound me." He groaned, dramatically.

"How about this? Sweet, loyal, handsome, romantic, hot..."

"Yeah. That's the ticket." He said, nodding, "But you forgot one thing. Totally, ridicouslously in love with you and definitely going to miss you for the next three weeks."

"Me too. You've been in my life for less than a year and already... I can't imagine my life without you. You're all the things I just said and more. You are the best guy I have ever dated though granted, given the last and only other one abused me for years on end and traumatized me into muteness, that wasn't a high bar." She looked down, averting eye contact with Campbell.

Campbell tucked the lock of her hair behind her ear, "He won't ever hurt you again, baby. Never ever."

She shivered a little and concerned appeared on his face, "Shite. Your nose is all red. You're freezing. Let's get ho... let's get you home." Once off the ice and pulled him back and he looked at her.

She stepped closer, raising herself on her tip-toes while weaving her hand through his hair on the back of his head and kissed him slowly when she pulled away, his eyes fluttered open and then shook his head.

“Sorry, you know, most girls, normal girls, always dream of having the perfect kiss with the perfect guy.” She said and then cringed, “Sorry, that was like the cheesiest thing ever.”

“Yeah, it was. So that’s super embarrassing for you.” He teased but then she sneezed. “Let’s get you home before I have to drop out of the DJ competition to take care of you. Come with me, Juliet. Follow your Romeo.” Then he immediately slipped and fell back down, face first in a pile of snow.

Campbell handed her a cup of freshly made hot chocolate with whipped cream after she got out of the shower when they got home.

"Oh, how thoughtful." Y/n said, cupping her boyfriend's cheek and stroking it with her thumb.

She took the mug and drank a big gulp, letting it warm her insides as she had already began to get cold from the shower.

Campbell grinned when he saw she had whipped cream on her nose, he leaned over and licked and kissed it off.

"Campbell!" She laughed.

"Mmm. Tastes only slightly more sweet than usual."

"The whipped cream?" She asked.

"No, you. Your taste. The taste of your skin." He teased.

"God, you're a dork." She drank some more hot chocolate and as soon as she swallowed he kissed her, allowing him to taste the hot chocolate on her lips and she giggled against his lips. "You're so weird, Bain."

"You are simply beautiful, L/n." He hummed.

Thirty minutes, later at like, two-thirty in the morning, they were both finally in bed.

"Promise me something?" She asked, laying on his chest.

"Hmm-mmm." He hummed, half-asleep.

"Campbell." She smacked his chest and he propped himself of his elbows to look at her, albeit, slightly sleep blurry-eyed.

"Hmm?" He asked but she didn't answer, he looked at her and saw her biting her lip, nervously. He sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees, "Babe, what is it?"

"Promise me you won't find some girl wherever this competition is going to to take you, someone who's willing to have sex with you..."

Campbell tilted her head up and kissed her before pulling back and looking her dead in the eye and saying, seriously, "One year ago, if someone were to ask me what my perfect dream girl would be, she wouldn't even come close to you." He kissed her gently again and then gave her a goofy smile, "That cheesy enough for you?"

"Yeah, and it was super embarrassing for you." She teased and he pulled her into his chest as they laid back down with him burying his face in the top of her head.

"I'm in this for the long run, Y/n. I promise. Your first time should've be special but it wasn't, I'm willing to wait until you're ready." He whispered. "God, I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too." She said and leaned up and kissed him.

He turned off the light and they drifted to sleep.

At the airport, the next afternoon, Eddie was saying goodbye to Francine while Campbell hugged Y/n, repeating how much he loved her and kissing her passionately.

"Call me? Every day. Even if it's the middle of the night for me." She requested.

He laughed, "You bet. I'll tell you about my day. Probably have to get another room from Eddie or else, I'll annoy him. You call me too. If you just want to talk, you call me. Even in the middle of the night."

"Babe, you'll be having a competition. I can't do that. You call me, I'll call you if you're awake. You call me every time you land and I'll look up the time zone differences and call you."

"I'll keep my mobile on me at all times." He promised and kissed her.

"Campbell, we've got to go." Eddie said, irriatedly.

Campbell groaned, "Bye, babe. I love you." He said and pecked her lips before going with Eddie to board the plane.

“Wait!” Y/n shouted, running at him, he turned and felt her attack him with a hug. "Two years ago, when I was still talking, if you asked me to describe my perfect dream guy, he wouldn't even come close to you either." She said into his ear.

He chuckled, “You stole my line.”

“Campbell!” Eddie shouted.

“IN A MINUTE! I have to go. Love you.” He kissed her again and ran off with Eddie.

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