#she died slow and scared and in pain after lying on the dirty floor of an emergency room

[laurelwinchester]

at this point my doctor’s ‘’chill’’ demeanor is becoming a fucking problem

[lcksndkys]

Title: Here for you 

Pairing: PJM x reader

Rating: SFW

Genre: fwb au meets hospital au

Word count: 1,475

Summary: after an especially hard day at work, Jimin tries to comfort you, except you don't seem to respond to his usual tactics. 

Warnings: imposter syndrome, a penis wiggle, discussions of medical complications but no death, implied smut

A/N: Hi, all!! There’s a bit of medical lingo. Resident= a physician who practices under the supervision of an attending physician. Attendings= doctors who have completed a residency, and supervise residents. Med surg= medical surgical unit/floor of the hospital where patients are generally, but not limited to, those recovering from some type of surgery. PE/pulmonary embolism= an emergent medical condition where there is a blood clot in the arteries that supply the lungs.

Also, this was written as part of the ghostie drabble marathon with the prompt: Character A gets emotional easily. Character B does not. A catches B crying alone and realizes that they never learned how to comfort B since they were usually the one getting comforted. Please drop a line, anything you want, to let me know what you think!!

You feel like an idiot. 

Head in your hands with your eyes squeezed shut, you inhale slow and deep to calm your stuttering breaths. 

Inhale, pause, exhale. Repeat.

You refuse to break down while at work. Doctors didn’t have that kind of luxury and you can’t sit here forever (even if a small part of you wants to).

Hands braced on the cold, hard concrete of the hospital's dingy stairwell, you're ready to continue with morning rounds when the door suddenly opens.

Fluorescent light floods the dimly lit stairwell.

“Dr. Lee’s lookin for you,” comes Jimin’s concerned voice.

“Fuck,” you whisper at being caught crying like a scared first year intern. You swipe under your eyes, erasing any trace of wetness and avoiding Jimin’s worried gaze. 

“Yeah, I was just- just going down for coffee. I’ll come right back up to med surg” you sputter. You’re nowhere near the cafeteria.

His dark eyes meet yours briefly. Two years of friendship and casual hooking up has him believing he knows you better than most. He knows when you’re lying.

 You make a quick exit, pushing past Jimin, refusing to make eye contact. Heading down towards the cafeteria to keep up pretenses, you decide maybe you do need the extra caffeine. 

Coffee in hand and hearing the death march ringing in your head, you dread meeting with your attending. 

Dr. Lee is a stern, but fair, mentor. She scolds you harshly for your mistake and then gently reminds you that this case will stay with you for the duration of your medical career. She promises you won’t let yourself make the same mistake twice. You hope she’s right.

By the end of the day, you’re feeling wretched. Having worked 80+ hours this week has exhausted you mentally, emotionally, and physically. 

You head to the staff changing rooms not noticing the figure following you. Angrily pulling off your scrub top, you pause at the soft knock at the door.

“It’s me,” comes the quiet of Jimin’s soothing lilt.

In your bra and scrub pants, you crack open the door and peer around him confirming that he’s alone. Opening the door wide enough to slip his lithe body between the cracks, you sigh.  “What do you want, Jimin”

“You had a rough day. I wanted to make you feel better” he rasps, winding his arms around you and pressing his body into yours. 

He easily crowds you against the door, one hand slithering around your waist, the other discreetly locking it.

Mouth slotting against yours, you part your lips wider to allow him to press his tongue to yours. You moan into his kiss, letting him tilt your head, deepening the angle. His hands wander the expanse of your exposed back, down your hips, and landing on the swell of your ass where he palms at the soft flesh.

He kisses you like it’s the last time every time. Ardently and enthusiastically, like he can’t get enough of you. It takes your breath away. 

You give yourself a moment to enjoy his affection, sliding your hands under his scrubs to scratch lightly against the soft skin of his abdominals before pushing him back with a firm hand against his chest. You pretend you don’t feel the rapid thrumming of his heart under your palm. 

“Not tonight, Jimin” you pant. 

You can’t get fully out of your head and into Jimin. Not right now. He lets you withdraw from him with worried eyes. 

The past two years have been hard, but your unforeseen friendship (turned fwb status in the last year) with Jimin has been a nice bonus. He made you laugh, he talked you up to the other nurses and your superiors, he made you cum, (he made your heart race, but you’d never tell him that). You were focused on completing your orthopedic residency and Jimin had hesitantly agreed that there were to be no strings. 

You hastily finish changing, stuffing your scrubs into your bag and making for the door.

Before you can hustle down the hallway and away from the sterile white of the hospital, you’re stopped by a firm, yet gentle, hand around your wrist. With a light tug you’re falling right back into his arms.

“It’s not your fault. You’re a great doctor” he insists, holding you close and pressing his forehead against yours.

Word gets around fast.

You scoff, tearing out of Jimin’s hold. 

Great doctor? A second year resident and you still feel like you’re flying by the seat of your pants. You don’t belong here.

“Shortness of breath, coughing, fatigue, recent surgical procedure, chest pain, lightheadedness when ambulating with physical therapy” you tick each off on your fingers. “Classic signs of a PE, Jimin, and I missed them all” you spit. 

The nurse shrinks back at your harsh words. After two years of friendship- and in Jimin’s opinion, more- he’s never seen you like this. Jimin has always been the emotional one; tenderhearted and in need of comfort after rough days. He’s always turned to you for that. 

“We caught it in time though. He’s gonna be fine” Jimin tries, trying to hold you closer.

Your brow furrows in frustration. He doesn’t get it.

“He could have died!” you burst. A patient could have died because you didn’t catch it when he threw a pulmonary embolism. “Stop trying to pretend you know what I’m thinking!”

At your venomous words, Jimin backs away. “I-I didn’t. I’m sorry. I only wanted to comfort you.” 

Eyes tight and biting his lip, he takes one last look at you before retreating back to his unit. 

You sigh, disappointed in yourself. But you have the next two blessed days off. Hopefully by then, you’ll have grown the nerve to apologize to Jimin for blowing up at him. 

Washing up and throwing your dirty scrubs in the laundry, you curl into your bed, finally allowing yourself to cry.

On day two, your phone pings with a notification. You see that Jimin has sent you a snapchat. 

Intrigued, you tap open the icon and-

Jimin is standing in front of his bathroom mirror- cheeks rosy, hair pushed back to expose his neatly trimmed undercut, ends dripping wet- covered only by a towel hanging from the base of his very erect penis. 

He must’ve just finished showering as you clearly see the beads of water running down his exposed neck and chest in rivers to undoubtedly pool on his bright orange bath mat. 

One hand is holding his phone, the other is waving into the mirror as he repeatedly clenches his pelvic floor muscles to make his rigid cock wiggle in greeting.

“Miss you,” comes his angelic voice.

He continues slowly waving, towel-covered cock bobbing in time with his hand as if purposely synchronized. 

“I hope you’re feeling better today” he says earnestly with a goofy smile.

You cackle at his antics, feeling your mood boost instantaneously. 

Eyes trained on his figure, you try to imprint this short video to the backs of your eyelids. It’s over as quickly as it began, video disappearing. 

Reciprocating, you snap back a shot of your body covered in nothing but his oversized shirt. Then, you open your texts and arrange for Jimin to meet you in an hour at your apartment. 

Waiting for his arrival, you pull out your favorite lube and some condoms in preparation. 

When your doorbell rings, you’re already worked up and ready for him to pound you into your mattress. 

Fixing your lips to his with a soft groan in greeting, you pull him towards your bedroom and pin him down onto the bed. 

You’re both panting when you break away from his plush lips to kiss down the column of his throat.

Jimin purrs beneath you, unable to resist the soft pull of your lips against his sensitive flesh.

“Shit, I wasn’t planning on-” he pulls back from you, eyes glazed with desire. “I just wanted to be here for you and make sure you- that we- were ok.”

You stare down at him. “Jimin. I’m sitting on your half hard cock, trying to apologize, and you’re talking right through it” you chuckle. 

He stops you as you lean in again. He’s serious.

“I mean… I also wanted to tell you," he looks shyly up at you. "You’re the only person I’ve been hooking up with,” he quietly admits. “I don’t want anyone else”

You gulp. Have you been stupidly exclusive this whole time? 

“Same,” you whisper, meeting his excited eyes with your confession. 

“So, then, this- you and me- it’s real?” he asks again with an endearing rouge to his cheeks. 

You look into his hopeful gaze and can’t resist him. 

“Ask me again after you take me out on a real date,” you agree easily as his eyes crinkle with happiness, beaming up at you.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: I measure every Grief I meet

Summary: Batman arrives in time and Jason spends hours buried beneath his father’s corpse, crying and begging and bleeding before Alfred finally manages to contact someone to come bring them home. Ethiopia is a constant in most universes, but who dies isn’t written in stone.

AN: Y’all remember when I said I had big angst coming? This is it. Have fun!

There were three truths to being Robin.

1.      You are the distraction. The hits they see coming but don’t expect to hurt. The bright light, the laughter and the joy.

2.      You are half of a whole. Batman and Robin are a team, which is why you shouldn’t fly on your own.

And most importantly:

3.      Batman will always catch you, no matter what.

Jason had held onto that last truth even when the Joker wouldn’t stop beating him and all he wanted to do was scream. His legs were on fire, the few steps he had taken had been worse than any beating he had endured before. Jason knew that once the adrenaline wore off, he wouldn’t be able to move them at all. All Jason wanted to was scream, or better yet, take the fucking crowbar and hit the Joker right back with it until he was lying on the floor, blood slowly collecting under his head-

But Jason couldn’t. He had to endure, had to save his energy until Bruce would come and get him.

He’d make it.

Jason knew he’d arrive.

Bruce always did.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Jason saw the Joker returning from the back of the warehouse. He tried to keep his breathing even like he hadn’t started struggling to push air in and out of his lungs hours ago. He wanted to shut his eyes, spare himself the sight of a future filled with broken bones, a blood-drenched uniform and pus covered lacerations. But Jason had to stay awake, stay aware. The moment he lost consciousness of what was done to him, he’d lose whatever advantage he still had.

Even if the said advantage was only knowing what weapon the Joker had taken to his bruised body. Instead of the anticipated object of torture, the Joker returned holding onto a coat. Instead of stopping beside Jason, he walked towards the entrance of the warehouse.

“Okay, kiddo, I gotta go,” the Joker began to speak. Jason noticed how rough and low his voice sounded. He’d never heard it so deep. Usually, it was as high-pitched and disorientating as nails on a blackboard, screeching birds, a violin played by a beginner.

“It’s been fun, alright. Well, maybe a smidge more fun for me than you.”

The Joker shrugged as if he were talking about daily trivialities. “I’m just guessing since you’re being awfully quiet.”

He watched Jason just a moment longer, his eyes too sharp, too calculating. There was madness in these green pits of poison, but it wasn’t the kind found before the jump into insanity. This was afterward, calculated unhingedness betting on sudden terrifying inspirations for an even more gruesome plan.

“Anyway! Be a good boy, finish your homework and be in bed by nine. And hey! Please tell the big man I said hello.”

The Joker finished putting on his coat. The jarring of the door mashed with the Joker’s laughter, the sound still echoing in the silence that followed.

Jason allowed himself two short breaths, then he rolled backwards to get on his feet. His… everything protested vividly with pinpricks against him moving. He managed two wonky steps forwards before crashing to the ground again. His body begged for rest, but the door was right there. Jason just had to keep moving forward.

He’d get out of this.

He would go home and apologize to Alfred for running away without another word. Ask Babs to teach him that cool kick she did on their last joined patrol. Call Dick and tell him he’d like to just hang out sometime and try out this whole siblings package that came with being Bruce Wayne’s son.

Jason would go back home and hug his Dad and promise to never ever take on such a dumb and dangerous risk headfirst again. He’d honor the ‘you’re worth more than the mission,’ whispered at his bedside when Bruce thought Jason was asleep.

Hot tears ran over Jason’s cheeks. He lifted his right arm and pushed himself forward. Then he moved his left arm, bare skin scraping over the dirty floor of the warehouse. One arm after another, Jason slowly crawled towards his freedom.

It’s a trap, his ever vigilante sub-consciousness whispered. It sounded like a starved child begging for food on the streets. The Joker’s right behind that. He’s waiting for you. He’ll grab your ankles and drag you back inside again and laugh and laugh and laugh.

He didn’t slow down.

Jason was choking on his own spit and blood, but he didn’t dare stop even for a second longer than necessary. The way over to the door took ages so that he could hardly believe it when he actually made it. Reenergized, Jason jogged the door handle, but it didn’t move.

The door didn’t open.

Hysteria bubbled up in his mind, emerging from his throat as barely contained whimpers. He just wanted out, he wanted to go home.

Sobbing, Jason leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Everything would be alright. He was still here, but the Joker wasn’t. Bruce would find him in no time. He was Batman. They were a team. They didn’t- shouldn’t leave each other behind.

And if not for that fucking ticking noise, Jason would be able to focus on that as well, instead of crying like a child. The noise kept distracting him, reminding him painfully of every second passing away while Jason had to wait for rescue. Like the world’s most annoying countdown, the ticking continued.

Jason opened his eyes and turned his head so fast that he became nauseous.

A small black box covered in tape and wires was lying innocently on the wooden boxes to Jason’s left.

Tick. Tock.

A Bomb.

There wasn’t even a minute left until it would blow up. It would set the sky ablaze, burn everything in reach to ashes and Jason-

20.

Jason was right in the middle of it.

17.

He’d die.

15.

Bruce would be too late and he’d die.

13.

The door to Jason’s right crashed open. A shadow, tall, dark, imposing and so familiar.

“Jay, son-“

“Bomb!” Jason screamed and Bruce didn’t even bother to search for it. He pulled Jason close and began to run. The warehouse and the bomb to their back. Jason’s head was resting in the crook of Bruce’s neck.

He exhaled.

Fire torched the earth.

X

Jason’s ears were ringing. 

Everything was silent, yet the screaming in his head wouldn’t stop. It assaulted his mind like the crescendo of an untuned violin. Small fires crawled over the remains of the warehouse to his right. The flames must be cracking, whispering of destruction, but all Jason heard was the terrifying emptiness of a high-pitched whirring.

Jason coughed and tried to push air into his lungs, but all that seemed to slip in was ashes. The air smelled of burned flesh and the weight on his chest made it impossible to move. 

“B?” Jason rasped.

He needed Bruce to get off. They had to start going; staying close to explosion sites was dangerous, especially in their condition. Bruce would have to carry Jason. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take another step on his own. Bruce had shielded him with his body, but the shock from the fall to the harsh ground hadn’t improved Jason’s wounds either.

“Batman?” Jason tried again. “We need to move.”

Jason could barely make out his own words. He knew he was moving his mouth and his tongue, so he must be making words. Why wasn’t Bruce reacting? “Batman!”

Silence still. Terror seized control of Jason’s voice.

“Bruce, please, wake up.”

He didn’t know what to do. Jason could count the times Bruce hadn’t been able to act on one hand, and then he had been mind-controlled, or sick. Not like this. Unmoving. The smell of burned flesh. As still as the dead-

Jason’s heartbeat accelerated, he thought his heart was about to claw itself out of his ribcage.

“Dad,” he said. “Dad, please. Wake up. I need you to wake up, don’t leave me here alone. Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry, please. I promise. Wake up. Wake up, wake up. Dad, please, wake up-”

X

Jason woke up in a hospital. The smell of antiseptics stung in his nose and his throbbing head made it difficult to open his eyes.

The world was silent.

Jason had been to plenty hospitals since he had been adopted. Bruce supported many hospitals, if not all of Gotham’s clinics, and took to visiting regularly. Jason had tagged along whenever he’d felt like it. Most of the time, he would sneak away to the children’s wing and done cartwheels for the youngest – or snuck in sweets and snacks that were better than the gross cafeteria food.

In all his visits, though, even on the intensive care station, the hospital had never been this silent.

Jason forced himself to open his eyes, and to his relief, his sight wasn’t immediately assaulted by bright white light. His room was as dark as night in Gotham with plenty of shadows that looked just vaguely human enough to scare you. The curtains were drawn and the only source of light was the TV in the corner, running the news from what he could tell.

Vicky Vale stood in front of a building Jason recognized as the Wayne Enterprises' main office. More people surrounded the plaza around it, bringing flowers, candles and balloons.

Jason must be in Gotham again. When had that happened? He’d been in Ethiopia with Bruce just before-

A sharp pain exploded in Jason’s head and he instinctively raised his hands to massage his head, an action his ribs immediately protested against.

Bruce.

He had to go check on him. Surely he was close. He was always there when Jason felt unwell. Jason had woken up so often at night with Bruce asleep at his bedside. He was probably just down the hallway.

Jason pushed the blanket off his bandage covered legs and tentatively sat his feet on the ground. He didn’t have any crutches, but the IV stand would do as well. He braced himself for pain when he shifted his weight to his feet, but thankfully only a dull numbness greeted him. Given his injuries, Jason knew standing shouldn’t be so easy. They must have given him the good stuff.

Jason gritted his teeth and took his first step. He hated painkillers.

Soon enough, Jason opened the door and reached the busy hall of the hospital. People were chatting away, running around, moving.

Jason couldn’t hear a thing, nothing but a very low rumble he wasn’t sure he was just imagining.

One of the nurses spotted him and began talking, but Jason still couldn’t make out any sounds.

“Where’s my Dad?” He said, or perhaps he shouted instead. In his panic, it might have been either or both, Jason couldn’t tell.

The nurse kept talking, moving towards him, so Jason took a step back. “Where is he!?”

There was a hand on his shoulder and Jason, all injuries be damned to hell and back, was ready to flip whoever was playing this fucked up prank on him. His hand was already at the other’s wrists, and if he hadn’t turned around in the last second, he would have followed through with it too.

“Alfred.”

Seeing Alfred amidst the chaos washed all tension off Jason’s shoulder.

“Alfred, what’s going? Where’s Bruce- Alfie?”

Alfred looked so tired, exhausted beyond his years. He had always been an unmoving constant in Jason’s world. The closest they’d get to immortality without Ra’s al Ghul he had joked with Bruce. For the first time since Jason had seen Alfred, there was nothing graceful about the butler’s age. He looked exhausted in the same way Bruce did when the two of them had to bury another child after a long night.

Alfred’s mouth moved and words must be coming out.

“I can’t hear you,” Jason said, desperation clinging to him. “Why can’t I hear you?”

Alfred was silent.

X

They went back into Jason’s room and soon after a doctor came to them. She was holding a tablet and typed out what she was saying, painstakingly slowly in Jason’s opinion. He’d been here for two days already apparently and went through a lot of surgery. They’d take him down to another station to get his ears checked out now.

“Where’s Bruce?”

Jason made sure to speak slowly, pronounce every syllable correctly without Crime Alley’s drawls. Maybe they all just couldn’t understand him properly. He felt as if he had asked this question a thousand times already. He just wanted to see his dad.

Alfred’s face was ashen and he put an arm around Jason’s shoulder.

Jason didn’t get it.

And then, when he read Alfred’s message on the tablet, he thought he had forgotten how to read as well.

Master Bruce had already passed by the time you were brought to the hospital.

Jason’s shoulders trembled and he began to laugh. High-pitched, he assumed, but he couldn’t tell because he couldn’t hear and couldn’t read too apparently because his dad wasn’t dead.

Batman couldn’t die.

X

It was Superman who had found them, supposedly.

Jason didn’t recall anything but his own pitiful begging until his tears had exhausted him and he had let himself be welcomed by the merciful emptiness.

They’d been kidnapped by the Joker.

[Lie: Jason had gone to the warehouse by himself.]

They had managed to escape.

[Truth: They had been outside.]

They had been caught by the blast.

[Truth: The heat hadn’t touched Jason but it had melted the Batsuit to Bruce’s skin, scorched his skin black.]

Superman had come across them by chance.

[Lie: Alfred had taken an hour until he had been able to connect to a League member. And then another thirty minutes until Clark Kent could get to them.]

Jason had been unconscious when they had been found.

[Truth: He had spent 83 minutes and 47 seconds buried in-between rubble and his father’s corpse, breathing in ashes and blood. He’d been awake for almost all of it, choking on his tears and his words.]

Jason was lucky. He was alive.

[Lie: He woke up with nightmares, words on his tongue he couldn’t speak. It said “Sensorineural Hearing Loss” on the white paper sheet the doctor had handed Alfred, but all Jason really saw punishment befitting the crime. He hadn’t listened. Now he wouldn’t ever hear again.]

Bruce Wayne was dead.

[Truth: Gotham was mourning, pouring flowers and light all over the streets for its favorite son. They didn’t even know yet that Batman was gone too.

And so was Robin.]

X

When Dick stepped onto the Watchtower, he was capital P Pissed. The Titans weren’t the League’s children’s club they could order around like they wanted. Dick knew the League respected them, but this first generation of heroes only ever acknowledged their boundaries when it benefited them. This was why Dick had left Gotham in the end.

Bruce could be proud of him as much as he wanted, but as long as he still expected Dick to come each time he called and follow every other like a perfect little soldier, there was nothing left in Gotham for Dick.

He had practiced his speech on the entire way back. He’d give Bruce a piece of his mind, maybe force the League to stick to some kind of regulations.

The words were stuck in his throat the moment he saw Superman.

No matter what, Clark Kent was always a rock you could lean on. He carried so much weight on his shoulders and rarely let anyone see his weaknesses. Bruce had called his behavior foolish and necessary at the same time.

Dick was vaguely aware that if there was anyone Clark confided in, it had to be Bruce. The thought that Clark must have terrible days too had never really occurred to Dick.

Clark looked grim, and so did the rest of the League.

Founders meetings didn’t happen very often since the heroes were already busy enough. Yet there all of them were, with the notable exception of Batman.

“What happened?” Dick asked.

It was Wonder Woman who spoke up first. “Two weeks ago, Robin and Batman confronted the Joker in Ethiopia. The Joker managed to escape and has so far escaped the League’s grasp. Robin has been severely injured, but is recovering steadily.”

Dread filled Dick’s thoughts. “And Batman?”

Diana stood up and walked over to Dick, taking his hands into hers as she had always done when he was young, walking around the Watchtower while Bruce was in surgery.

“Batman passed away on the 27th of April. We tried to reach you faster. His funeral is today.”

X

There were paparazzi everywhere. They were screaming his name, trying to get his attention, and Dick tried to block them all out. Kori squeezed his hand and helped him move forward. His side was still hurting from the battle he’d been in hours ago. All of it felt so surreal and fake.

Dick had seen Bruce injured plenty of time, but he had never expected those injuries to mean anything besides a little more physical therapy and another disapproving look from Alfred.

Dick knew death - it was a part of their lives.

He didn’t expect it to ever haunt him personally again. Not like this.

(He had healed before hadn’t he? Those wounds had closed, yet here they were again: wide open.)

They had reserved the first rows for family and friends. If Alfred looked bad, Jason looked downright horrible. He was sitting in a wheelchair, makeup partially hiding bruises and scars. He hadn’t bothered to cover up the bags under his eyes. Babs and the Commissioner were at the front, as well as Oliver. Dick could spot Selina in the crowd and various other Justice League members in civilian uniform. From the Kane family, only Kate had shown up, wearing a suit. Her hair was as bright as Dick remembered it from the last time he had seen her.

His relationship with Kate had always been strange. She wasn’t that much older than him, but Bruce had always treated her differently. She was his cousin and Dick was his-

Dick bit on his lips. He wanted to look at anything else. Everything but the closed casket in front of him.

He failed.

He needed to check the autopsy files later, see what had actually happened. The League’s report hadn’t even scratched the surface.

The music began to play and everybody stood up.

Dick would go to the Batcave and search for an explanation. Something about this didn’t add up in his mind and he would figure it out.

X

Jason didn’t know what the hell all the people were talking about. He didn’t even know why so many people were at the funeral. The family’s circle of friends hadn’t been all that big. Most of these people were only here for their own benefit. After all, they hadn’t been there when Bruce had-

When he-

They hadn’t been there.

Never mind Dick who looked like he was paying about as much attention to it all as Jason. Jason had excuses at least. He couldn’t hear what was going on, wouldn’t for a while longer until his ears healed the little bit they might still, and he’d get hearing aids. Jason had already cried plenty for his father. Screamed and raged too, threw books against the wall and hoped he would grow satisfied by seeing everything crash and burn.

He’d only felt horrible afterward, cried because he had damaged the Anne of Green Gables book Bruce’s mother had bought decades ago and Bruce had entrusted to him.

This funeral was useless. Jason had never been to a funeral, he only knew where his mother, where Catherine Todd, was buried thanks to Bruce researching it. Jason hadn’t been involved in her funeral. He had been searching through trash cans, looking for food.

He should have stayed in Crime Alley.

He ruined everything he touched.

X

The Cave welcomed Dick home. The familiar moving shadows embraced him, eyes watched his back and the low whirring of the Bat-Computer powering up echoed in his ears. Kori had gone back to the Titans after the funeral, they needed her more than Dick did at the moment. He would have gone with her too if he’d gotten access to the Cave immediately. But Alfred had decided to be difficult about it all. He had pretty much outright forbidden Dick from going down to the Cave. It was only after Alfred had gone out with Jason a week later to get the kid his hearing aids that Dick could finally sneak it.

Because of course he had to hack the system to get access. Damn Alfred’s paranoia.

Dick had spent many hours in the Cave, but he’d never really been alone for long. To know that he really was the only person here was strange, to say the least.

Quickly, Dick headed for the Batcomputer and opened the archive. He searched for the files that set up this whole Ethiopia mess. If there was one thing Dick had to be thankful for considering his vigilante upbringing, it was the many hours Bruce had spent with him, teaching him how to organize exactly. Bruce was a neat freak, and his own files were all categorized per date, case, duration, participants, crime and so on. Dick used a similar if slightly simplified filing system and had more or less forced his teammates to adapt to it.

Dick grinned triumphantly when he found the beginning of this particular case. He’d have to cross-reference it with the undercover cases later on to figure out what Bruce needed to disappear for.

Dick knew he and Bruce weren’t exactly on speaking terms right now, but he’d thought that for instances such as faking the death of your civilian persona, he’d have gotten a note, a call, anything.

Emotionally stunted as Bruce was, he wouldn’t just disappear on Dick like that.

He’d promised Dick.

The more Dick read, the more confused he became. Where was the hidden plot?

Groaning, Dick pushed himself away from the Batcomputer and marched over to the cabinet with the paper files. It was impossible to hack the computer unless you were Barbara Gordon, but Bruce still kept some of the critical data on paper so that you needed access to the Cave to read those files, and the Cave could withstand WW3. If there was anything more profound to it all, then surely the secret had to be hidden in-between these documents.

Dick carefully combed through the different cases, forced himself to read on where Bruce’s elegant handwriting turned into short chicken-scratches. More often than he expected, Dick had to stop and go to the mats, burn away the images of torn-apart bodies, thin children with no clothes, and horror stories of Gotham’s dirty streets. Dick had known that Gotham could be this cruel, but Bruce had never let him see these cases.

At the very end of the pile, Dick had to admit that there was nothing on these blood-stained pages that explained Bruce’s actions.

Frustrated, Dick went back to the computer to check the recordings. He still hadn’t gone through all the audio files because he usually didn’t have the patience to sit down and listen for a longer duration. And most of the time, the audios were pretty useless as well.

Dick dropped back into the massive chair in front of the computer. It was big and comfortable, he’d fallen asleep in it when he was younger and waiting up for Bruce to return home. He’d always woken up in his bed the next morning.

Dick opened up the file and it began to play.

“Bomb!”

Static.

“Jay, Jay, you’re okay-“

And the rain started pouring.

X

The manor was loud when Alfred and Jason returned. After the two weeks of mostly total silence, every sound had Jason jumping at his own shadows. His hearing aids worked as well as they could, though Jason still had troubles with certain sounds. Alfred had suggested visiting Lucius in the next days, have him take a look at them.

Jason thought he was comfortable hiding away in his room for the foreseeable future, but before he could voice such thoughts, Alfred was ushering Jason into the kitchen.

It had been a quiet, peaceful May day outside. Sunshine warmth and bird songs.

Alfred wanted to make him a hot chocolate either way and Jason was sure it was more for Alfred’s sake than Jason’s own. He wondered if drinking the hot beverage in silence was their thing. Instead of talking, they hid away in the kitchen, drowning their sorrows in sweetness as the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

The kitchen was already occupied when they entered.

“Master Dick,” Alfred said, his tone almost wary.

Jason didn’t know what for. Dick had stayed away from everyone in the past weeks. Or he had stayed away from Jason at least, and in such a big and empty house, Jason was pretty much everyone. If Dick wanted to join them for dinner now, it wasn’t Jason’s place to protest.

(Though there were several things on Jason’s mind he wanted to scream at him.)

“I’ll be making hot chocolate for Master Jason and I, and I prepared lasagna for dinner. Will you be joining us?”

Dick's eyes were blue.

Barbara had made jokes about it. It had been Jason’s first time meeting Batgirl and he’d tried to impress her with a rather amateur flip. She’d smiled at him regardless.

“Gosh, B!” She had said. “Are you sure you’re not cloning yourself to get such a talented little Robins?”

Dick’s eyes weren’t blue anymore. They were stormy gray, tidal waves and hurricanes, rage, and anger.

“You’re the reason Bruce is dead,” Dick said.

His face was impassive, but his look made Jason freeze up on the spot.

“Master Dick-“

“He wouldn’t be dead, if not for you,” Dick continued, now rising to his full height.

Jason used to wonder how people could be intimidated by the ever-smiling, joyful and perfect Dick Grayson.

He didn’t anymore.

“I-“

“You got my Dad killed!” Dick shouted and lunged forward, his hands at Jason’s collar.

Not even Alfred’s shocked protests could drown out the sounds of explosions in Jason’s head because Dick was right. Jason had been stupid and reckless and only he was to blame that the two of them were orphans once more.

“I know,” he said when he finally found his voice again. Dick was still caught up in his righteous fury. “It’s my fault. I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t- I’m-“

Dick let go of him and stormed out of the room.

Alfred stayed with Jason, put his hands on his back and let him cry into his neck, all while whispering sweet but useless reassurances into Jason’s ears.

He knew he was to blame.

(He wished it would have been him too.)

X

When Dick could finally feel again, he was halfway across Gotham in his Nightwing suit.

Bruce was dead.

He was dead, dead, dead deaddeaddead-

He had promised. Bruce had promised that he’d never leave Dick. He wouldn’t die, he wouldn’t make Dick bury another parent. Oh god, he had buried his father, Bruce’s burned body had been in that coffin, Dick had just stood there and watched as they killed his father a second time because he hadn’t known-

“Breathe, Dick. Look at me. Dick, can you hear me?”

Dick wanted to throw out another cheap line about hearing. He wasn’t the Robin who had lost his hearing. He’d only lost his father, his wings, the one person who’d always catch him, be it when he was falling from chandeliers or buildings. Even when they had been separated by different cities, Dick had been aware of Bruce’s shadow lingering somewhere nearby.

“Dick, son, are you alright?”

“No,” Dick replied. “I’m not okay, Uncle Clark.”

Dick held onto Superman’s cape. Clark’s heartbeat was a slow and steady one, grounding.

“I know. It’s alright.”

“It’s not. He’s really gone, isn’t he? Bruce is dead. And I wasn’t fast enough. I shouldn’t have left him or Gotham. I could have stopped this. If I’d been-“

“Here? Faster?”

Dick slowly let go of Clark. He wanted to rub his eyes, wash away the tear stains, but he couldn’t. Years of being told to never take off his mask had stuck.

“It wasn’t your fault, Dick,” Clark said. “You couldn’t have known. You weren’t even on-planet. Don’t blame yourself.”

No, Dick couldn’t have known. But he should have. He and Bruce had been partners, even if Dick had left to stretch his wings and Bruce had brought Jason in – he’d still been Dick’s partner. If not for Jason, Bruce wouldn’t have gotten into this situation in the first place, but Dick couldn’t change the premise. That too was a lesson Bruce had taught him early on.

You cannot change the situation, only the players.

So who had been there, or rather, who hadn’t?

Alfred must have suffered terribly at the other end of the comm. Line. Listening to his son’s last words trying to organize a rescue-

Dick tensed.

“Look, if there’s anything you need-“

 “You said you were listening,” Dick interrupted softly. He had screamed his throat sore just hours ago in the Cave. “You promised, Clark. You said you always had an ear on my father’s heartbeat and you didn’t.”

What was the Justice League even for if they weren’t there for each other? A whole world to protect and they couldn’t even keep one of their own safe.

“Dick-“

Dick turned around and stared into the black void of Crime Alley beneath him. He couldn’t look into Clark’s face anymore. See his worry and pity and guilt. He should have just been faster instead.

“Go away, Superman. Your kind isn’t welcome in Gotham.”

Dick jumped.

And for the first time in years, he was wondering how he’d reach the ground.

X

Jason fucking hated his hearing aids. He hated a lot of things recently starting with his pain medication, the press and the fact that Gotham still seemed to be holding her breath even though it was all over already. Bruce was dead, and so was Batman.

He didn’t know what everyone was waiting for anymore.

Jason dragged himself out of his bed and room for lunch. Alfred insisted that they ate together, what for Jason didn’t know. He wouldn’t be able to sit in the same room and cook a meal for his son’s murderer.

(Because that was what he ought to call himself.)

Dick hadn’t returned to the manor in the past weeks or, if he had, Jason hadn’t seen him. The past had proven once already that he wasn’t the most observant person or a good judge of character.

Jason sighed when he reached the top of the staircase. He hated walking them up and down every day, but he wouldn’t tell Alfred about it. Jason was causing enough trouble as it was.

Once he reached the bottom, he sat down for another few minutes to catch his breath. He’d lowered his medication dosage and was paying for it now. He just wanted to get off them as soon as possible. He hated taking the little white pills, they brought up too many ugly memories.

Jason continued on to the kitchen. They didn’t eat in the dining room anymore, Jason didn’t know why.

Maybe the table was just too big for them.

When Jason stepped into the kitchen, the smell of burned flesh assaulted him. He couldn’t even make it to the sink. He just toppled over and threw up right on the kitchen tiles. He heaved until his stomach was empty and only fluids crawled up his throat. Alfred’s hands were on Jason’s back, but they weren’t enough.

“Everything will be alright, lad. Breathe with me, Jason.”

But he couldn’t.

He just kept on hoping for air when he was drowning in the deep waters.

X

Alfred tried to make Jason go see a therapist.

Jason thought it was stupid and promptly voiced it. He hadn’t meant to start shouting, but by the time he had realized what he’d done, it was already too late.

Alfred didn’t bring it up again, but he gave Jason access to the Cave again.

Jason hadn’t been in there since before Ethiopia and he only got as far as the first case holding the Batman suit.

(He didn’t throw up again, but it was a close call.)

He had hurried back upstairs, nearly running past Bruce’s bedroom. He hadn’t meant to stop and stare, but he couldn’t help himself. Slowly Jason opened the door. He knew the door usually screeched every time you moved it. Bruce hadn’t wanted to oil the hinges because it alerted him whenever someone opened the door. Jason had thought the explanation was bullshit, but Bruce had been awake every time Jason had crawled into his bed at night.

The sheets smelled like they always did.

Jason woke up screaming.

X

Maybe hiding away in Barbara’s Clocktower was cowardly, but Dick didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t return to the manor, despite Alfred’s many unanswered calls and voice messages. Barbara hadn’t said anything against him staying with her either, yet. She had handed him a pillow and a blanket, pointed him into the direction of the sofa and that was it. While she worked, Dick did coffee runs, cooked, cleaned or spent hours staring at the ceiling like it could tell him what is next step should be.

And every night, without fail, Dick put on his suit and headed outside, chasing crime out of Gotham’s streets and venting his frustrations.

He knew he shouldn’t go out when he was so full of rage, but he didn’t know how to stop.

(Bruce used to be the one who decided that they should have a movie night every time Dick was too angry for patrol. He hadn’t noticed it as a kid, but now Dick knew what his father had been doing and he missed those times.)

“Are you staying?” Barbara asked one morning when he returned.

Dick was still wearing his suit, his hair was shiny because of how much he had been sweating.

“What?”

Barbara didn’t look away from her many screens. She was calculating something, observing Arkham on another screen, Blackgate on another, and the listening device was recording a conversation and sending it straight to her server.

“Are you staying in Gotham or returning to Blüdhaven? I need to know so I can script patrol routes accordingly.”

The question caught Dick off-guard. “I don’t know.”

“Then make up your mind.”

Dick threw his hands up in the air. “Can’t I get just five minutes to think about it?”

His tone must have been harsher than he had intended. When Barbara turned around, she looked downright murderous. Her auburn hair appeared to be on fire with the light of the screens behind her. Dick had never believed that her injury would interfere with her capability to be an absolute terror. Still, he had never expected to be at the receiving end of her righteous fury.

“You’ve had more than five minutes already, Dick. You’ve had hours, days, weeks. I need to know now so I can start setting up an actual working system for Gotham!”

“What gave you the right-“

“What gave me the right!?” She interrupted him. “I’m Oracle. Bruce left his city to me. I’m supposed to know it all and right now I’m the only reason Gotham hasn’t been devoured by gang wars already, but I don’t know how long I can keep this up when working with uncertainties. Tell me now if you’re staying or leaving so that I can do my work.”

She was breathing heavily and her eyes, though her glasses hid it well, were red-rimmed. When he thought of it, Dick had never seen Barbara sleep in the past weeks.

“I-“ He glanced at her screens. There was a robbery going on in City Hall. “I need to go.”

Dick fled.

X

Nightwing caught the robbers still in the act. He quickly knocked them out and put them into cuffs. The police would arrive in the next fifteen minutes, Dick was sure. The night was as clean as it could be in Gotham, and with summer underway, Dick didn’t need to feel bad for leaving the robbers right there on the ground.

Dick had perhaps apprehended the robbers in a much harsher way than he could have, but he was just so angry. He wanted something to hurt. Others, his hands, his heart – he didn’t care as long as he was feeling anything that wasn’t the dark pit clawing itself open with razor-sharp nails.

Dick moved further south, as far away from the Clocktower, the manor, the Cave, the Grave as he could. He hadn’t patrolled in Gotham in such a long time, every change caught him off-guard. Not all of them were massive, but Dick expected a house where there was none or empty space where there now rested a small playground. When Dick reached the docks, he was almost thankful that the old warehouses were still standing. Some of them had been torn down to make space for newer ones, but the oldest was still standing. Dick had fond memories of falling asleep its rusty roof while the sun rose and Bruce was sitting next to him.

He had always woken up in his bed again, except for the times Bruce also hadn’t made it up to Dick’s room again and had just let Dick fall asleep next to Bruce.

Gotham’s sunrises were beautiful. The polluted air made the colors all that more vibrant. Almost neon. The prettiest there were.

Nobody would carry him back to his room.

His father was dead and Dick hadn’t had the chance to apologize to Bruce and come home again.

He should have never left Gotham.

X

When Dick fucking finally showed his face again, he looked just as angry and grim as the last time Jason had seen him. There was a different edge to it though, the same kind of exhaustion Jason had been able to trace in Bruce’s face after bad nights.

Jason had taken to working on his homework in the Cave. Up in the manor, he couldn’t concentrate. Everything looked so normal like nothing had changed, like Jason hadn’t brought everything down crashing.

In the Cave, surrounded by the familiar smell of sweat, machinery and leather, Jason could breathe and focus. He caught up on schoolwork he’d missed, vowed to excel at it for the praise he’d never hear again. Dick suddenly showing up there wasn’t part of the plan.

Alfred hadn’t allowed Jason to drop the speech therapy. Jason frankly speaking didn’t see the point of it. He already knew the basics of ASL and with the adjustments Lucius had made to his hearing aids, Jason was alright. The world wasn’t silent anymore, even if it wasn’t as loud and clear as it used to be, but Jason could make up for it. He’d managed on the streets with broken bones, bruised ribs and scraped knees.

He didn’t understand how meeting with some lady with eyes filled with pity was supposed to improve anything – or what the point of going to that equally stupid children’s group was. He didn’t fucking want to interact with any of them and he most definitely didn’t want to be stuck there for two hours every Saturday. He could be using his time more productively, studying, researching, tracking that fucking clown down since the Justice League was apparently too god damn incompetent.

Jason didn’t need any help.

He wasn’t just born with a mistake, he was the fucking mistake. It would be better for everyone if they stopped trying to fix it and just left him alone.

X

Dick didn’t know what the hell Jason was doing in the Cave. He had no right to be there, but since Alfred was apparently letting him in there, Dick couldn’t kick him out either. And the brat was stubborn. He glared at Dick every time he entered the Cave, but Dick’s presence obviously wasn’t enough to make him leave or speak up.

The kid was just always there, observing, judging.

It was worse than Barbara’s anger when Dick had returned to her to apologize – after a week of sleeping in Bruce’s safe houses. She had been right. Dick needed to step up and act to protect what he had abandoned. During the night, he refamiliarized himself with Gotham. He needed to know every corner, every territory, every gang and very loose brick if he wanted to do as he once did: fight and bleed for this city.

Batman’s absence had shifted Gotham’s carefully crafted balance into disorder. The Rogues were careful still, but soon enough Batman would have been gone too long for them to still care about repercussions. They would just lash out and injure whoever their closest target was.

None of this would have happened if Dick hadn’t left. He needed to fix it, try to stitch up the bleeding wound of Bruce’s absence. He could do it. He had to.

Bruce used to believe in him.

Dick hoped that despite his own flaws, his father had never stopped.

It wasn’t easy to pull up the schematics of the batsuit, but it got more bearable with every word Dick read. Bruce had made a lot of changes since Dick had been Robin, continually improving his armor. A lot of it wouldn’t work for Dick, his fighting style was too different, but he too could adjust. He owed it to Bruce.

The cape had to be shorter, the armor lighter.

Time to get to work.

X

Jason hadn’t known what Dick was doing in the Cave, not until Dick had asked Alfred for help. The butler wasn’t pleased with whatever Dick was attempting – probably something stupid – but he was still helping him, if reluctantly. It reminded Jason of the times he and Bruce had snuck away from galas to go on patrol.

“Do you think it will hold up?” Dick asked Alfred. Jason watched them out of the corner of his eyes, tried to make it seem like he wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying. They were a little out of his reach, it sucked that he couldn’t hear them. He should look into tweaking his hearing aids, giving himself a broader range, he thought as he subtly moved closer to the conversation.

“It should,” Alfred replied. “Though, I’m not sure you’ll be able to fool Gordon.”

Dick snorted. “There’s no fooling him. He knows exactly who we are. He just lies because he’s a cop and all cops lie. He’s just one of those who knows what the line should be.”

And then Dick picked something up from the table. Long and dark fabric fell to the ground, the bat-symbol reflected the light it caught.

It was a batsuit. A new one.

“No.”

Jason didn’t notice he had said it out loud until Alfred and Dick both turned to him. Jason stood up from his chair and walked over to Alfred and Dick. Dick might have the advantage of years of training, but he hadn’t been forced to steal for his survival. Jason snatched the uniform right out of his hands.

“Hey!”

“You don’t deserve this,” Jason hissed. “You have no right to walk in here and put on his mark again!”

With every word Jason said, his voice grew louder, stronger, more resolute.

Dick’s storm returned full force and he stood up straighter. “Now, you, listen to me-“

“No! Fuck you!” Jason didn’t back down, not this time. He knew he was a screw-up, but Richard John Look At Me I Can’t Do No Fucking Wrong Grayson didn’t get to pretend he wasn’t. “You walked out of this and you don’t get to come back. The only person who can allow that is dead and you don’t fucking get to wear his uniform. You’re not Batman! You can’t be!”

“And you can!?” Dick shouted back.

His wrath was impressive, but Jason wouldn’t let him take this away from him. He would fight and bleed and suffer if that meant that Dick wouldn’t ever touch a uniform.

“You don’t belong in Gotham, traitor!”

 “And you don’t belong in the manor!”

“Master Jason! Master Dick!”

Right now, Jason couldn’t care less about what Alfred had to say. He had vowed to protect Gotham and all the treasures left behind. He didn’t care about what happened to him, but nobody would tarnish Batman’s legacy with cowardice and weakness. Not as long as he was still standing.

“Fuck you, Grayson! Bruce chose me!”

Maybe he wouldn’t have if he knew what it would lead to. Or perhaps he would because Bruce had sat at Jason’s bedside, read for him, made him breakfast, didn’t get mad when Jason accidentally broke expensive vases or put stickers on the ancient wooden floors.

“He was my dad too and he wanted me. He was mine and you don’t get to take him away.”

Then, before Dick could think of a reply, Jason quickly ran off towards the stairs, the suit still in hand. He’d throw it in the trash, ruin it and ensure nobody could ever wear it.

Jason didn’t even manage step one of his plan. As soon as he was out of the Cave, he blindly ran upstairs, planning to cut his path to the kitchen short, but unfortunately, Jason still wasn’t healed completely, and not as fast as he knew he could be.

Dick caught up to him and gripped his shoulder when Jason was going at full speed. Jason fell backward, tumbling right into Dick’s chest.

“What the hell, Dickface!?” Jason shouted, he clutched the uniform as tight as he could, but Dick was stronger. He jacked it out of Jason’s hands like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Now you listen,” Dick said.

Jason looked up, ready to stare straight at a tidal wave of fury, persist and tear it down, but Dick’s face was blank. No anger, nothing.

“You don’t know anything about Bruce and me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jason challenged. “I know plenty-“

“You know nothing,” Dick replied, his voice tethering on the edge of dangerous. “And here’s the deal: You don’t say anything about it and I don’t make sure you never step on Gotham’s rooftops again.”

Jason stared at Dick in disbelief. How was this supposed to even be a threat? Dick couldn’t stop Jason from doing jack, no matter how hard he might try.

“I’m sorry, Grayson, did the truth hurt your feelings?”

Dick looked like he was reaching the end of his patience. Good. Jason wanted him to lose it, to prove he was just as much of a mess as the rest of them.

“Shut. Up. Jason. Just shut the fuck up. Bruce would be ashamed to hear you speak like that.”

Jason snarled and stepped forward to push Dick, but the older man avoided Jason by leaning to the right, evading him easily.

“Well, he isn’t here anymore! So who cares!?”

Dick moved away from Jason, mustering him again with that cold expression Jason couldn’t place.

“Gotham,” Dick then said and walked back into the direction the two of them had come from.

X

Bruce chose me!

Dick pulled the uniform close to his chest, inhaled and expected a scent he never entirely could forget. Sometimes he’d walk through Blüdhaven, catch it and get thrown right back into one of his fondest childhood memories. When he had been younger, he hadn’t understood how much work having a protégé must have been for Bruce. He had to make his files and the cases he allowed Robin to investigate childhood friendly, train him enough so that he wouldn’t have to worry every time Robin left his line of sight.

He was my dad too.

Of course, Bruce being Bruce, he would worry nevertheless, that was just in his nature. He wasn’t the poster child of articulating his feelings or thoughts very well, but Dick had never questioned that Bruce cared about him. He had proof of that buried beneath all the gruesome Ethiopia files he had hidden so deep down in the archive that nobody but him and Barbara would ever find it.

He wanted me.

Bruce would make Dick run laps until his legs gave out for how he’d been acting in the past weeks. Jason was fifteen for god’s sake and what had Dick done? Screamed in his face that it was Jason’s fault Bruce was dead when really, nobody but the Joker was to blame.

Dick didn’t have to like Jason, he didn’t know if he ever could, but he could start treating him like the victim instead of the offender. He was a child lashing out at everything and everyone he could get his hands on, Dick had to be patient.

Putting on the uniform for the first time was a strange feeling. When Dick looked in the mirror, he thought he was seeing someone else. His brain caught up only slowly, measuring the height of the vigilante in the mirror against what he knew Batman’s actual height was. The cape was too short, the waist too narrow and the chin not angular enough.

He was mine.

Dick looked like a child playing dress-up. It would have to be enough. (He would make sure of it.)

X

“The Signal has been lit again and for the first time in months-“

Switch.

“-Calendar Man escaped last week-“

Switch.

“I thought I wasn’t seeing correctly, but there he was-“

Switch.

“Batman-“

Switch.

“-Batman.”

Switch.

“-Batman-“

Switch.

“-Robin?”

Jason stopped flipping through the channels, which were all reporting the same thing. Batman had finally returned and caught the villain of the week. The people were celebrating, but Jason didn’t know what for. It had taken Dick much longer than it would have Bruce to capture Calendar Man. One person had died still. Batman hadn’t made his great comeback, he was lying six feet underground and maggots were eating away his skin. Dick was a terrible replacement and Barbara was the only reason he was functioning at all. Without Oracle’s help, the first scuffle he had gotten involved in, would have ended deadly.

“And still we wonder: What happened to Batman? And where is Robin? The Joker, too, hasn’t resurfaced yet and his madness looms like a threat over Gotham’s skyline. Many speculate-“

The TV cut off.

Jason looked to his right where he found Alfred holding the remote.

“You shouldn’t watch such rubbish, Master Jason,” Alfred said.

“Why? It’s not like they’re saying anything wrong. As soon as that clown comes out of his hideyhole, Dick is done for. He’s barely holding it together as he is.”

Jason pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them. Where is Robin? The question echoed in his head. He was curled up on a comfortable sofa and the heavy blanket resting on his shoulders kept him warm. His wounds had healed, all of them, and he was almost back in shape. His legs still hurt more than they ought to when he didn’t land a role or a jump a hundred percent correctly, but that was to be expected. Bruce wouldn’t let him out on the streets yet, maybe in a week or two.

But he couldn’t.

Robin had caused all of this, he didn’t know how to fly anymore.

“Master Dick is trying his best,” Alfred said.

He took off his gloves and put them on the table in front of them. Then he sat down next to Jason and put one arm around Jason’s shoulders.

“His burden isn’t yours to carry and neither of you should feel like you have any weight on your shoulders at all. You are not to blame for the action of others.”

Jason bit on his lip until he could taste blood on his tongue. “But I am. I did this. I ruined it. I got him killed-“

His eyes burned. He had cried so often in the past weeks, when was it finally enough? He hated it, he wanted it to stop, but nothing he ever did went according to plan.

“You did not. You were trying to do an admirable task and save another person. Bruce wouldn’t want you to keep hurting yourself like this. He definitely wouldn’t blame you, either.”

Jason buried his head in Alfred’s chest as if that could stop the tears from flowing. They burned hot on his cheeks and his shoulders trembled as he tried to choke down the sobs.

“It will get better, Jason,” Alfred murmured. He held Jason close, both his arms acting as a shield, protecting Jason from the outside world. “It will get better.”

Jason wanted to believe it.

X

Blüdhaven was a terrible city to protect. Everybody was corrupt and Dick could count the people he could trust on one hand with a couple fingers still left over. However, Blüdhaven was also a lot smaller than Gotham. It wasn’t called Gotham’s little sister just because it inherited its gangs, it was also only roughly a third of its size.

Gotham was a lot more work than Blüdhaven. When Dick had started going out as Nightwing, the high amount of hours and sleepless nights that went into acting on your own had caught him slightly off guard. The first weeks hadn’t just sucked, they had been the worst.

Dick felt a lot like he was eighteen again, standing in front of a wall so high he wasn’t sure he could climb to the top. Dick wasn’t even working by himself, he had Oracle and her Birds of Prey. Catwoman too had taken up a much more active role, keeping check of East End. Her relationship with Bruce had always been a little strange, and it hadn’t gotten any clearer now that Dick was an adult and could understand parts of it. However, Selina Kyle had always been absolutely clear on the fact that she was no vigilante and certainly no hero.

Her more recent actions sung a different song, but Dick wasn’t going to ask her about it. He was grateful for all the help he got.

Batman’s mantle was a heavy weight, one Dick wasn’t sure wouldn’t suffocate him one day. He’d need to slow down a little, or the stress would catch up to him. His body was already a stunning blue and green pattern- there was no need to add any red to it because he couldn’t catch enough sleep.

Alfred wouldn’t be able to handle it and he already had his hands full with Jason.

Dick hadn’t seen him in the Cave lately, though he knew the teenager still sneaked in to look at the computer. Jason did a good job of covering his tracks, but Dick had been in this business longer than Jason. It had been almost twelve years now.

It felt like an eternity and a half.

Dick dropped in Bruce’s chair. (No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of the big chair as his own. Dick had hang on it when he was a child, climbing all over Bruce while he was trying not to spill any hot tea on Dick. It was always going to be Bruce’s throne to Dick.)

“Alright,” he muttered. “What does today’s schedule have for us?”

Barbara forwarded him any info she gathered. Some of it was already marked down as taken care of, but other cases were filled with more gaps and holes than Swiss cheese.

“Arms dealer, drug trafficking, …” The list went on and on and Dick had no idea where to start. It seemed like the moment he took down one operation, another was there to take its place.

Dick didn’t like the silence of the Cave, never had. Back in Blüdhaven, Dick would play musing while he was solving cases and before that, when he had been Robin, he had always been talking with Bruce – or at Bruce. His grunts and hums might not have been the greatest replies, but they had been enough for Dick. He missed them. The silence ate everything up.

Until it didn’t.

“Dick!”

Dick wasn’t prepared for Barbara’s face to suddenly show up on the computer screen. Her eyes were wide with shock, fear. Her breathing was uneven and shallow, signs of a panic attack.

“Barbara, what’s going on-“

“The Joker. He’s back. One of my camera’s picked him up. It’s him, I know it, Dick. It’s him, he’s back.”

Dick could feel all the blood drain from his face. For a moment, he was frozen. All the years of training him out of the habit seemed to disappear.

(“Fight or flight, chum. Choose either, but never freeze. There’s no shame in running away.”)

The cold determination took over.

“We’ll get him,” Dick said. ‘I will end him,’ he thought.

He suited up.

X

Jason carefully monitored Dick’s progress. He still sucked, but the fact that he needed Jason’s help was becoming painfully obvious. Jason had thought about abandoning Dick, but then he might as well burn Bruce’s grave to the ground.

Dick was trying to keep Gotham standing when Jason couldn’t. He had to help him or people would get hurt and die. Gotham needed Batman and if Dick was the only viable candidate, then Jason would ensure he wouldn’t come back to the Cave with more bullets than blood in his body. Jason left notes on the Batcomputer, correcting Dick’s records and adding background information Dick couldn’t have because he hadn’t been there when it happened.

There was no way he’d know the Irish and the Russians hated each other because of some Romeo-and-Julietesque drama that had gone down a year ago. So Jason put it in Dick’s rainbow color-coded files and highlighted it thrice.

Jason didn’t own Dick anything, least of all an apology.

He had been right with everything he said.

But they needed to set terms or Gotham would go to hell.

Jason walked down the steps to the Cave deliberately slowly, going through his speech word for word. Yes, he had written an actual speech and learned it by heart. He didn’t want Dick to catch him off guard when Jason struggled to find the words. Alfred was currently out running some errands, so it was the best time to confront Dick.

Jason knew it hurt Alfred to see the two fighting. The butler had enough worries already and Jason didn’t want to add to them.

When Jason reached the bottom of the stairs, he stood still for a moment. Analyze the situation first, figure out where Dick was and what kind of mood he was in.

But Dick was nowhere to be found. Jason frowned and tried to recall whether Dick should be anywhere else, maybe with his Team?

No, he had resigned from the Titans or something. He had had a massive fight with his teammates about his decision to stay in Gotham, not that Jason was supposed to be aware of that.

“Grayson?” Jason shouted. “Are you here?”

Nobody replied and Jason was starting to get worried. “Hey, Dick, come on. This isn’t funny. We need to talk.”

Jason walked further into the Cave, but he still couldn’t spot Dick anywhere.

“Where did you-“

Jason’s words were stuck in his throat as Jason glanced at the Batcomputer screen.

He was back.

He was back, he was back, he was back.

Jason belched, but nothing came out. Hellfire burned the earth around him, there was a heavy weight on his chest and the Joker was laughing and laughing-

Dick.

He must have gotten the Joker alert and ran after him on his own, without Jason, without back-up.

The Joker was no fool, he would know that Dick wasn’t Batman. He’d barely take a look at him and he would make Dick pay for it.

Jason couldn’t let that happen.

He scrambled over to the changing room, that horrible sound chasing him. Jason hadn’t worn Robin’s colors in months. He wouldn’t fit the uniform anymore. Somewhere in-between his panic, he recalled that the spares, Dick’s old Robin suits, were still kept in at the very back behind Jason’s.

Bruce had never said why he had kept them. They were old, Dick wouldn’t use them again and Jason’s had all been upgraded. They would have to be enough today.

Jason fastened his utility belt and headed for his bike.

He couldn’t waste a minute.

Thirteen seconds left.

Jason drove out of the Batcave faster than he ever had.

He needed to find the clown and end him.

X

The Joker usually hauled up in the Amusement Mile. Even when he was locked up in Arkham, people didn’t dare to go there in fear of stepping into the Joker’s traps.

Dick would likely head there first.

The Joker wouldn’t be there. It would be stupid to head to his main base immediately. They knew Joker had more hideouts, but they had never been able to track down all of them. He would restock first and then-

Where would he go?

Somewhere he can plan, somewhere familiar.

The Joker had known that Bruce had been on his way to Jason and he knew that whoever was wearing Batman’s mantle now, it wasn’t the real Batman. What was the likely conclusion if Robin and Batman hadn’t been seen since Ethiopia?

Death.

Joker would be pissed, he’d be furious. His Batman was gone and now a new one had taken the scene. One who didn’t share any history with him yet. He’d want to change that, recreate what had existed once.

Jason cursed. He knew where the Joker was headed. He thought about calling Dick or Barbara, notifying anyone, but-

He could end this.

Jason could ensure nobody would ever get hurt by the Joker again.

He drove on.

X

Dick was one setback away from indulging completely in his panic. The Joker wasn’t in his usual hideout, nor anywhere near it, and Barbara had lost track of him. The Joker could be everywhere, planning to blow up more than just one warehouse this time, and they didn’t have a single lead.

 “Dick,” Alfred’s voice rang over the comm. “Is Jason with you?”

He sounded out of breath like he had run a marathon. Dick’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“No, why should he?”

Please, Dick thought. Not now, not this.

“He’s not at home and his bike is missing, I fear he’s decided to follow you.”

Dick’s mouth dried. No. No, no, no, no!

“O, can you track him?” Dick asked. “Jason’s bike has a tracker, right?” Dick’s bike used to have a tracker so he wouldn’t be able to sneak away. Of course, he had figured out how to disable it, but if Jason was even half as terrified as Dick right now, maybe he wouldn’t have thought of it.

“I’ve got him,” Barbara replied. “He’s- it’s parked in front of Ace Chemicals. I’m rerouting the police there. Hurry.”

Dick didn’t need to be told twice.

X

The Ace Chemicals plant was dark. They were currently right in the middle of rebuilding the whole area and roughly half of it was already done. They had started with the newest parts, fixing them up and enlarging them. A lot of their production had been shipped overseas, and if a few adjustments here and there were enough, they could simply tear down the old buildings and warehouses.

Jason didn’t even waste a second to consider where exactly the Joker would go, it was obvious. He had no interest in the new building, it held no memories for him. No, he would head to the old part. Maybe he had sneaked in, just like Jason, through the damaged fence and entered the old building through the backdoor.

The lack of security cameras was a bit confusing, but not too unusual. Enough dark deals were made in the shadows of big corporations. The less supervision there was in general, the more plausible deniability did the heads of such companies have. Jason was mindful of any security still, but he encountered not even one guard on his way through the building. Everything smelled like chlorine and disinfectant. It reminded Jason of the hospital and he hated it. He tugged at his cape and held it over his nose in the hope it would lessen the sharp scent at least a bit.

It didn’t.

The warehouse was cloaked in darkness. The only light source was the moonlight shining through the dirty windows. Jason’s patience was running out.

“I know you’re here,” he hissed. “Stop hiding, you coward.”

Jason walked into the middle of the warehouse, his back exposed. He was open to any attacks, but he was sure that the benefits outweighed the risks.

At first, nothing changed, but then a shadow moved and by the time Jason could see the trademark violet suit, he also heard the Joker’s footsteps and clapping.

“Oh, look! The itty-bitty birdy found me! Where did you leave your new Bat?”

Jason had been right. The Joker did know that it wasn’t the same man under the mask. He took out two Batarangs, one for each hand.

The Joker leaned forward as if to examine them closer. “Those again? I thought we had already established they’re not useful, especially if I step a little on those fingers and toes.”

Jason was accustomed to the fire burning inside him. It flared up, tainted his vision red and urged him to move forward through all walls and bodies.

He couldn’t feel its warmth.

Instead, ice spread through his limbs, its cold burning like the flame, if not even more damaging.

“That reminds me!” The Joker said. “Do you think we should have another session? Our first one didn’t end as planned.”

And suddenly, the Joker was upon him. Jason stumbled back, but he couldn’t catch his balance in time and dropped to the floor. The Joker grabbed Jason’s shoulders and when he tried to lift his head, the Joker smashed it to the ground.

“You! Ruined! My! Game!” The Joker shouted in Jason’s face. “You useless little birds always do! The Bat is mine and you keep hogging his attention. Life would be so much better with you gone.”

The Joker sighed theatrically and leaned back. “I imagined how sweet it would be. Just me and Batman forever and ever without you little pests interfering.”

The Joker’s nails dug into Jason’s arms so harshly that he must be drawing blood. Jason whimpered. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, he’d had a plan, a goal. He couldn’t let the Joker ruin it or him or anything else ever again.

“But you! You had to get in-between us! I figured Batsy’s gonna be sad for a while, but then he came back all wrong. So I have to make him right, I’ll fix us. You won’t make me mad again, will you, Robin? I had fun the last time, but I think I might be angry today. People don’t like me being angry, it hurts them.”

The Joker’s green eyes gleamed and he began to grin. “Or maybe that’s why you came back? No daddy at home to punish teeny-tiny Robin for getting him killed?”

Jason could taste blood on his tongue. He hated the Joker. That was the reason for the cold, he was the reason. Jason had been angry at others before, but nobody but Willis had managed to make Jason so furious he lost all control, but the Joker?

This was hatred.

Jason screamed and with all the strength he could measure up, he pushed himself off the ground, toppling the Joker over. Now their roles were reversed. The Joker was lying on the ground, helpless like prey and Jason was holding the weapon.

He would kill him.

Jason would kill the bastard and make him pay for every crime he had ever committed.

“You-“

A loud crash interrupted Jason. The right wall of the warehouse just smashed open when a familiar black car drove through it.

Dick jumped out of the driver’s seat.

“Robin!” He shouted, then his eyes zoomed in on the Joker lying beneath him.

“Hello, big bird,” the Joker sing-songed. “Nice upgrade you got there, but it’s not all done. I was going to help you but then this little bird interrupted.”

Jason used his right hand to push the Joker’s head forcefully to the ground.

“Robin,” Dick repeated, this time softer. “Let go of him.”

“No.” Jason hissed. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Dick said and took one step forward, then another. “You don’t want to do this.”

“I don’t want to do this? He ruined everything!”

Why didn’t Dick understand? If they got rid of the Joker, everything would change. No more torture, no more nightmares, no more pain.

Jason was going to fix everything. “He has to die.”

 “B wouldn’t want you to do this,” Dick said. He held his hands up as if to show that he wasn’t going to forcefully take the decision out of Jason’s hand.

It almost made Jason want to laugh. Bruce had shown him a couple maneuvers he could do easily while

“No more death,” Jason said. “No more destruction. The world is better off without him!”

Beneath him, the Joker laughed maniacally, his face twisted into the ugly impression of a smile.

“Shut up!” Jason shouted, but the Joker wouldn’t calm. He only became more and more hysteric and Jason just wanted it all to end!

“I said, shut up!”

“Ja- Robin,” Dick tried again. “Please. You don’t-“

“I’m right,” Jason said. “I’m right. He should die and I’ll make him stop.”

Dick fell silent. The Joker’s laughter surrounded them both. If Jason wasn’t here, Dick wouldn’t know whether he’d be able to knock the Joker out and put handcuffs on him. Hell, if Dick were in Jason’s position, he didn’t know if he could do it. He wanted the Joker gone as well. Preferably slow and painful, so he’d suffer like Bruce had.

But-

“B wouldn’t want it,” Dick repeated. “I want him gone as much as you do, but Batman and Robin don’t kill.”

Gotham would fall apart as soon as they shed blood like that.

“I know it hurts and he should suffer, but you shouldn’t have to pay the price. Dad loved you and he wanted you to be safe. This is the opposite of that. You don’t have to agree, you don’t even have to think my way is the right one, but you know he’d hate himself for being the reason you’d have to spill blood.”

Jason’s hands were still holding onto the Batarang. If Jason really wanted to kill the Joker, Dick wouldn’t be fast enough to drop it.

“He deserves it,” Jason whispered. “He killed our Dad and he deserves it.”

Jason dropped the Batarang. His arms went slack at his side and Dick used the opportunity to move in. He pulled Jason away from the Joker as fast and gentle as he could. He draped his cape around Jason’s shoulders and kneeled down next to the Joker. Dick jammed a syringe with sedatives in the Joker’s neck and cuffed his hands together.

Maybe the dosage was a little higher than usual.

Not enough to make sure he wouldn’t wake up again, but to ensure he’d drop immediately and his insane laughter would die.

“Oracle, police?” Dick asked. He was moving on autopilot, directing Jason away from the body.

“Outside, my father’s there.”

Good.

“Let’s go back home,” Dick said softly. At his side, Jason only nodded.

Dick carefully maneuvered Jason out of the warehouse and towards the Batmobile. When they arrived back home, Alfred was already waiting for them. He pulled both of them into a bone-crushing hug.

“My boys,” Alfred said. “Don’t ever do something like this again. I’m not sure my heart could take it.”

Dick put his arms around his grandfather, squishing Jason in the middle. All of them were here and all of them were alive.

They had made it.

Dick was home.

X

“There is something I want to show you,” Dick said. “I- I didn’t want you to know before and, fuck. I’m sorry. This wouldn’t have-“

Dick was struggling to find the right words. Would it have changed anything, he wondered, if he had given Jason this beforehand?

Jason wasn’t moving from his spot on Bruce’s chair, still wrapped in Dick’s cape. He was just staring into space, tear tracks still visible. Alfred had wanted them to go upstairs immediately and not step in the Cave for the next ten years, but Jason needed to listen to this.

Dick sighed. Now or never.

He opened the Ethiopia file and purposefully didn’t look at Jason. Then he hit play.

X

“Jay-“Bruce's voice played and Jason breathed a sob. “Jay, you’re okay. It’s alright. Don’t cry. Sssh, I love you. You and Dick. I love you, I-“ He coughed. It was a wet and ugly sound. “I love you, I love...”

The recording cut off.

Jason hit replay.

Again.

And again.

And again and again and again and just once more. He just had to be sure that he wasn’t mishearing Bruce’s words, that he was committing them to his memories until he could quote this terrifying declaration.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Just once more.

Rewind.

X

Jason was sitting in the circle with the rest of the deaf kids. He knew their names, some of their hobbies and roughly how much of their hearing was impaired. He had never bothered to pay any attention beyond that or involve himself in any way. More than once, he had brought a book to these sessions and had refused to look up from it.

He thought of all the puns about deafness Dick had made on the way to Jason’s appointment. Not all of them had been good or fun – two have them had fucking hurt, but Dick had apologized and it was okay.

Getting better.

Something like that, at least.

‘Is there anything you’d like to share today, Jason?’ The therapist asked like she did every Saturday.

She wore one of her awfully colorful dresses and smiled softly, hopeful. Jason didn’t get how she could do that for weeks without growing resentful. If Jason didn't absolutely shut down, he avoided eye-contact and replied with a quick ‘no’ and, if he was feeling especially crude, told her to ‘fuck off’ in the most vulgar way possible.

‘Yes,’ Jason signed for the first time. ‘I’ll be spending the evening with…’ He dropped his hands in his lap, took a breath, then picked the sentence up again. ‘I’ll be spending the evening with my older brother. I don’t know what we’ll do yet, but I hope it will be fun.’

Poison Ivy had escaped Arkham yesterday. The last few times she had escaped, she hadn’t done any significant damage and Jason still had a biology test to study for. Sometimes, Ivy was down to answer his questions when they were driving her back to Arkham. It would be pretty great if tonight was one of those nights.

X

“So,” Jason said. “I’m thinking.”

The buzzing in his ears annoyed the hell out of him, but he couldn’t get it to stop. He'd have to wait until they were back home.

“Oh, dangerous,” Dick shouted from where he was lying beneath the Batmobile, trying to figure out what Ivy had done to stop their car.

Jason rolled his eyes and wrung out his cape once more. Everything was cold and wet and sticky. Ivy had been seriously pissed by the plans for a new factory at the edge of town. So much for getting her to tutor him.

“I think I should exchange my mask for something that covers my ears as well because my aids were not made for being thrown in Gotham River.”

Dick moved out from beneath the Batmobile, looking at Jason in a slight panic. Even though the mask covered his head, it was fairly easy for Jason to tell what he was thinking.

“They didn’t get damaged, did they?” Dick asked, signing while he was it.

Honestly, Lucius had made them. If getting dropped in the water once was going to fry them completely, Jason wouldn’t trust any of the equipment they were using.

“They’ll survive the night,” Jason said. Even if everything sounded a little bit like static. ‘And don’t speak and sign, your signs are shit.’

‘Sorry.’

“Anyway, I was thinking I should get a helmet…” Jason trailed off. Something or someone was moving on the roof of the building in front of them.

“Robin?” Dick called.

“Be right back,” Jason replied and angled his grapple so that it would pull him onto the roof. He shot it and whoever was on the roof was already running backward. Oh, hell no!

Jason landed smoothly on the roof and after a short sprint, he caught the person, who turned out to be much shorter than Jason expected.

Kid-sized, really.

“Hello,” the kid squeaked nervously. He couldn’t be older than twelve or so, Jason thought. “Nice to meet you?”

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Eh…” The kid glanced at the camera he was holding. “Maybe?”

Jason raised a brow, pretty unimpressed with the kid so far. Though, he couldn’t just let the kid go and ignore that he had caught a maybe twelve-year-old with a camera on a rooftop. At least it wasn’t a video camera, so no possibly incriminating videos spoiling Batman and Robin’s identities for the world.

“Gimme that,” Jason said, already pulling the camera out of the kid's hands.

“I don’t show them anybody!” The kid insisted when Jason turned the camera on and looked at the most recent photos.

As expected, the last one was of the two down in the alley, but the ones before that were close-ups of the dynamic duo fighting Ivy. Ivy had destroyed an entire – fortunately abandoned – building in her rage. To get pictures of that…

“Who are you?” Jason asked. He didn’t make it his habit to intimidate kids, but if they got involved in such dangerous situations, he needed to know why. “Who is paying you for this?”

“Nobody!” The kid said. “I just do this for. Uhm. Fun. My name is Tim. I’m your neighbor.”

The words registered in Jason’s mind about the same time as they did in the kid’s as Tim slapped his hands over his mouth and paled.

Later, when Jason would be ranting about Dick’s overreaction at Bruce’s grave, he’d maybe admit that he could have dealt with Timothy Jackson Drake differently and that knocking a twelve-year-old out shouldn’t ever be anyone’s first instinct, but right now?

Right now, Jason already had the knock out gas in hand and was only vaguely aware of Dick having reached the rooftop.

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 14: Flame

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing, Torture, Abuse Words:  2067

“It took you long enough to finally get her, you’re lucky that we aren’t going to deduct your pay.” 

“I should stab you for that.” 

“Just give him the money so he’ll get out of my sight.” 

The voices that rattled about in your dizzy mind were unfamiliar. They pulled you out of your unconsciousness, paired with pounding in your ears and an unrelenting nausea. Outside of the voices and the cold wooden floor against your side, there was nothing to anchor you to your surroundings. A blindfold prevented you from opening your eyes, and your mouth was effectively gagged with a cloth wrapped around your head, which settled between your teeth uncomfortably. The taste of the dirty cloth only made you want to gag, though with how tight it was, you couldn’t keep your tongue off it. 

Uncomfortable, you began to squirm, only to find that your arms were tied at the wrist and your legs at the ankles. Still, you were too dizzy and drained to struggle much, so all you could do was lay there in your nauseous panic. 

“She’s awake.” 

“Should we make sure she still remembers who she is before we give him the money?” 

“If she remembers things or not has nothing to do with the job. You told me to deliver her, and I did. Now, either pay me, or I will return her home.” 

That was a voice you did recognize. It was the man with the beak mask, and at this point, you gathered that he had kidnapped you and taken you to god knows where. These people had wanted you for something… but what? How did they even find out about you? Were there rumors spread by those within Bakugou’s clan and his enemies had caught wind of it? That was the only thing that came to mind at the moment, and as footsteps began to make their way towards you, fear began to clutch at your heart. 

Before you could even consider wiggling away, you were snatched by the upper arm and dragged painfully across the floor, the pressure on your shoulder making you feel as if your arm was going to pop out of socket. Yelling out in pain, your voice was muffled by the cloth in your mouth, though it might as well be hot air with how little your captors seemed to care. It only subsided when you were hauled up and sat down onto a chair, your arms anchored to the wood with either rope or more cloth. 

You wanted to struggle, to fight back and try to make your escape, but fear kept you in place. You didn’t know where you were, how many people were around you, or what they had been planning on doing with you in the first place. Any little movement or peep could make them kill you instantly, so you decided that waiting it out was a better plan at the moment. 

Shuffling of feet followed by rattling of coins tipped you off that the masked man had been paid, and once his footsteps excited the room, you felt the presence of multiple people all around you. It wasn’t much longer before not only your gag, but also your blindfold were removed, allowing you to cough and take in your surroundings with blurry vision. Behind the tears and the panic, you could see three people, all peering down at you with a range of curious interest and cold malice. They hated you, that much you could already tell, yet you couldn’t stop your questions as they rolled off your tongue. 

“W-what is this? Who are you?” 

“Aw, she’s so scared!” A woman with blonde hair leaned forward a bit, currently seated on a table not too far away. Her hair up in two side buns, the wicked grin on her face made your stomach clench, seeing nothing but insanity in her yellow gaze. “I love it! Can I cut her up a little now, Shiggy, please?! You said I could cut her!” 

“No,” With a lazy raise and wave of his hand to silence the excitable woman, the man directly in front of you spoke in an almost exhausted huff, making you curious as to his health. You could see that he was thin underneath his loose robs, his long pale blue hair ragged and oily as it hung in his face. Only one piercing crimson eye was visible to you, the bags under his eyes severe and lips chapped. All in all, he was quite disgusting looking to you, but despite how he may appear, it was obvious that he was the leader. 

‘Shiggy’? Shig… how is that name familiar… 

Giving a whine, the woman leaned back on her arms, kicking her legs in disappointment. “But you said I could…” 

“Not now. Only if she doesn’t talk.” 

“Then we need to get to it, it’s only a matter of time before they realize she’s gone.” A man standing beside you to your left spoke now, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but relate his fluffy spiked black hair to Bakugou’s. Just thinking about the hotheaded blonde back home made your eyes burn with longing, struggling to hold back the tears. Never before had you wanted to see someone so badly, to have him rush through the doors and save you. But after the fights you had, how he had basically shut you off… would he even bother? 

“Then make her talk, Dabi!” The woman spoke again, nearly bouncing in her seat. “So I can cut her!” 

“I said don’t use our names, you moron.” 

Dabi… Shig--

“Shigaraki,” The name left your lips as a whisper, but it was still loud enough to silence those around you. “Dabi… and Toga.” 

“Oooh, she does know our names! You were right, Shiggy!” Toga hopped off the table to stand. “She is a witch!” 

“She’s not a witch.” Shigaraki stood as well, making his way over to you. As he squatted down, you kept his gaze locked with yours, though his blank expression made your stomach churn. “How do you know our names?” 

“They… They are familiar to me.” Glancing between all three people, you leaned back defensively into the chair, wishing you could shrink into nothing and vanish. 

“How?” 

“They just… I just know them. I don’t have to answer you! Let me go!” Struggling against your bonds a bit, you were only stopped by a blade at your throat. Dabi had gripped the top of your head, his sword cold against your flushed skin. 

“Let’s try this again.” Shigaraki clasped his hands together, elbows resting on his knees. “Tell me how you know our names. How you know our moves. Our tactics. Our armies. Our enemies. Tell me, or I will have your fingers and toes broken one by one.” 

Swallowing hard, you felt the blade at your neck nip at your skin, unable to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. Yes, you knew these people, and you also knew that most of the battles or skirmishes that you had helped Bakugou with had been with them. Shigaraki was Lord Yagi’s main enemy, the two having been fighting for years over land and rule. Over the more recent months, you had given guidance to make sure that Bakugou’s armies would win, and just as you had suspected, Shigaraki had found out somehow. 

“I… I don’t know about them! I just… I can see things, l-like visions! But I don’t know anything about you otherwise.” 

“Let me cut her, Shiggy.” Toga pulled a small knife from her kimono sleeve, placing the blade at your cheek. “I’ll make her talk. Pain always works, and they always look so cute when they bleed!” 

“I’m going to give you one more chance.” Shigaraki held up a finger, pulling your fearful gaze away from Toga. “Tell me, or I will let her cut into you.” 

“I… I can’t! I don’t know anything!” 

“We’ll see about that.” 

… 

Out of everything that had been done to you, the thirst was the most unbearable. You could handle the cuts to your skin, the beatings and the hunger. But being so unbelievably thirsty was the most painful, your throat dry and tongue swollen. At this point, all you could do was lay in your cell, arms still bound so you couldn’t move well at all. The rope had cut into your skin and it stung with the simplest of twitches, so you had grown content with just lying there until you died. 

For not giving them what they wanted, this slow and painful death is what you would be subjected to. You were taunted with food and water in exchange for information, but there was none for you to give. You knew little to nothing about these people, their mission, their battles or their fates. All you remembered was their names, so no matter how many times you tried to tell them, they didn’t believe you. It was pointless. Not just all of the mistreatment, but all of your time in his era. Everything you had gone through was now withering away with you on this dirty, damp floor and you would fade away into nothingness. 

Maybe, you thought, you would die just to awaken back in your own world. Would you be yourself, or would you be in a different body? Maybe you’d wake up as a cat, so you could spend all your days sleeping, eating, and being loved. You had always envied your cat, how they could spend their days without a care in the world. Their purr had always been something that calmed you, and more than any other moment since you had come here, at this moment, you wanted to hear it. If you had any tears left in you, they would have fallen at the thought, but there were none. There was nothing left but to die. 

At some point, you had fallen asleep, only to wake up to darkness. It was nighttime, the chill in the air and the cold moonlight coming from a singular window in the hallway told you as much. What had woken you? There had been some type of noise, a bump in the night or shuffling in the hall. You thought that perhaps it was one of your captors coming to pry more information out of you, but now, there was nothing. All you could hear was the rushing wind outside, though even that was difficult to identify in your near delusional state.  

What’s that… a… light? 

Visible from your cell, you could see a flickering light, barely illuminating the dark hallway. As you watched, it seemed to grow, creeping along the building as if it were a living creature. Then, as you watched in horror, orange and yellow flames slithered along the walls, engulfing the wood. You could hear the crackling and hissing of the fire, the wood creaking and screaming beneath the heat. 

The building was on fire. 

Finding a small ounce of strength in your panic, you pulled yourself up to sit, scooting over to the door of your cell. Turning your back to it, you grabbed onto the bars with what grip you could manage, trying to shake and pull them loose. The bars didn’t give in nor did the door open, barely rattling or moving at all. 

“Hello! Anyone?!” You tried to scream, though it only came out as a hoarse whisper. Your throat dry and now irritated by the smoke rolling into the room, you began to cough, gasping and wheezing in pain from the effort. Behind the roaring fire, there were no voices, no footsteps or panic, and you knew that no one was going to come for you. 

Becoming winded from coughing and struggling to breathe, you collapsed back onto your side, vision becoming blurry. I-I don’t want to die…! Please… Please, somebody save me! The heat had reached your skin, now, as the flames completely swallowed the hallway. By now, you couldn’t breathe, struggling to take in the smallest amount of air through the smoke. Even with the bright light of the flames, your vision went back, and all that was left of you was only a hint of your consciousness. 

“Demon! There she is, hurry!” 

Bakugou…? No… I’m imagining it. 

“Demon! [L/N]!” 

I’m here… I’ll be with you soon… 

“[L/N!]”

[anpanbts]

Of Hate and Love - Prologue

pairing: OT7 (all BTS members) x reader

genre: smut, angst, romance

warnings:  smut, mentioned rape, violence, gore, blood, kidnapping, character death, drug use, weapons

word count: 1,400 words

description: In case for you to be finally free from the chains of your uncle's mafia, you need to spy on one of the youngest but already most successful mafia in Korea - Bangtan. But for some reason your heart doesn't want to betray the boys. You want to be with them, but for them you are probably just a sexual object they can have whenever they want to.So what will you decide? Do you want freedom or want your heart at peace?

chapters: {Prologue} {1} {2} {3} {4] {5}

Since your father - the mafia boss of Sanyangkkun - died, nothing has been the way it was before.

You can't say that the organization you worked for since you were 14 was good, but under your father's reign, it was.. well, more peaceful. Now that your uncle leads the empire, everything has gotten out of hand. People get killed for no reason. Last week you had to witness how a prostitute was tortured by your uncle, just because she couldn't fulfill his dirty and disgusting desires. You wanted to stop him, but couldn't. You were too scared to get yourself in danger. Too scared of him and his brutal nature.

When others were around, your uncle spoke to you as if you were his own daughter. He gave the perfect impression of a loving uncle whose brother died only a year ago. He would remind you many times that you looked exactly like your mother and that you got your strength from your father. But when it was just the two of you, he showed you his true self.

You always tried to hide from him, but somehow he always found you.

Last month, his men stormed inside your room and told you that you were needed in the basement. When they pushed you into a dark room and locked the steel door, you knew that you were in much more danger than you thought.

You tripped over something and landed on the floor which was cold as ice. The fall caused your legs as well as your palms to bleed and you hissed in pain.

Suddenly the lights went on and a few feet in front of you stood nobody else than your uncle.

"Y/N my dear.. long time no see," with slow steps he walked over to you, until he stood so close that you were able to catch the smell of smoke coming off his clothes.

"W-What do you want?" you wanted to sound strong, but your trembling voice gave away how intimidated and scared you were.

"I want explanations," he simply stated while staring you in the eyes. Not being able to maintain eye contact for long while with him, you averted your gaze towards the floor.

"Explanations for what?"

"Acting innocent even though you're not is bad manners. Didn't your parents teach you this before they were killed?" a smirk spread over his scarred face while you tighten your fists.

He just wants to provoke you. Don't listen to his words.

"They really looked like cheese with all those bullet holes in their bodies."

"You fucking bastard!" you got back on your feet, lifted your fists, and were about to punch him in the face but he held your wrists.

"Oh.. does this upset you? My bad.."

Maybe it wasn't the best idea to kick him in the crotch but your rage controlled your moves at that time, not your brain. "You're just jealous because my father was always favored by others. You can't live with the fact that-"

Smack.

"Shut up you little bitch! I make the rules and you are just a pawn on my chessboard." with one swift motion, your uncle punched you in the face which made you stumble backward. "Now tell me your business with this person or you won't live to see another day."

"Which person for Christ's sake?"

"How about you look behind you?"

Slowly you turned your head, afraid of what’s there. When you see what laid behind you, a scream left you.

Star. That is - no, was her name. A prostitute who worked for your sadistic uncle. Weeks ago you helped her to escape from this miserable life, but unfortunately, she was tracked down and now dead. There was a deep cut in her throat that seemed to have stopped bleeding just a while ago. The blood that should have been inside her body was now spread all over the cold floor. The blood that should have kept her alive, is now also on your hands.

"Poor one. I really liked the way she sucked my dick off while I scratched her with my knife. It's a shame," he grunted evilly, not the least bit affected by the corpse lying in front of him.

"You sick shit!" maybe shouting at him wasn't the wisest action of you again, but it definitely helped you to let out your rage. Tears started to collect in your eyes but you wiped them off, covering your face in dirt and the blood of your friend.

"Well, seeing your anger I assume you know her?" his mischievous grin grew wider, knowing that you walked straight into a trap.

"I-I don't know this woman. I j-just can't cope with all the blood."

"Don't act like a little girl. I know you've seen much worse than this in your life. Now answer me. Nothing will happen."

Of course, you weren't that stupid to believe him, but did you have another choice? Either you admit it now or after hours of torture and the first option sounded way more tempting than the last one.

"She wanted to leave Pi Sanyangkkun and asked for-"

"Say no more. You didn't just let such a traitor escape but even helped her with it," his voice was stern. His nostrils flared with each syllable and his breath got heavier.

"I should kill you for this," he left a long pause before speaking up, now with a much calmer voice, "But no. I won't kill you. I am in a good mood today so I will give you a choice."

"A choice? Shall I beg for your forgiveness?" you sneered at him while glaring into his wicked eyes.

"No. Better. You are the only member of Pi Sanyangkkun that isn't known by the world. That's why I need you to spy on someone for me. When you give me this one piece of information I need, you are free," he bent his knees and knelt down next to you, "How does this sound?"

"W-What do you mean by 'free'?" In your eyes glistened a small spark of hope, lighting the dark world.

"Free, as in, you will never come back to Pi Sanyangkkun again," your uncle gave you a knowing smirk, aware of your deepest wish – to never have to experience the things you went through in here again.

You always wanted to live a normal life. Go out with friends, have sleepovers, meet the love of your life and so much more. You never had high hopes, knowing it will be in vain, but now the person who you despised the most, was going to give you exactly that.

But believing his words could be your death. He would never let you leave this mafia. You had too much important information in your head. Spies who got traced down were murdered, no matter what. Your uncle wouldn't want to infiltrate his own men into unknown territory. It's too dangerous for them. They're too important to him. But not you.

He always wanted you dead and now he had a perfect opportunity. This undercover mission will be suicide. Your death will be guaranteed if you can't keep your secret, but it's even more dangerous to stay in Pi Sanyangkkun, next to your uncle who hates you more than anyone else.

Everything else is better than staying here.

“Who do I need to spy on?”

"Their name is Bangtan. This gang isn't as popular, but I don't want to risk it. They need to be disposed of immediately," your uncle began walking nervously through the room and it seemed like he was definitely intimidated by them.

“And how am I supposed to do this?”

"Oh.. there is only one way for you to infiltrate Bangtan’s territory. As you might know.. men have specific desires.. and well y'know that specific women can fulfill their wishes if you know what I mean," he winked at you, called his man to escort you into another room and left you there alone.

You need to make a decision on whether you want freedom in exchange for serving men to fulfill their sexual desires or to face death. Is it really worth it, to give your body to some filthy men? Is this a good way? Probably not. But it seems like this is the only way.

Sanyangkkun (산영꾼) means hunter

Pi (피) means blood

The mafia Pi Sanyangkkun is called in English Blood Hunters (well, at least I hope so. My Korean is terrible..)

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Masterlist

Notes: So... this was the prologue. If you liked it, please let me know. The next chapter will be longer and contains smut so be prepared my dears!

[bernardberniebern]

Eugene’s body laid prostrate under the night sky, draped over the cold ground, gathering frost. It’s pale fingers still grasping the hard ground, fingernails chipped and caked in dried mud.

Under the hot sun of day Mr. Dan’s body would eventually bake, rot, petrify; the stains of blood would become dust, his bones buried by silt and sand. What was left of the young deputy would quietly become a part of the landscape. Brown hair mixing with dried yellow grass and swaying in the wind, perhaps a colony of stinging ants would make a home inside the new hole in his ribs, or a family of nesting owls take refugee in his old brown duster coat.

Or it would have had Eugene’s soul not had other ideas.

A day earlier Eugene’s body sat on a horse. Not the abandoned body currently decomposing on the ground, future home of ants, and owls, covered in its own goos and laying on the ground face down just ASKING for a coyote to start eating it’s dirty ears off! No this was Eugene Dan full of life, just filled to the brim with good human goo and only the appropriate amount of holes and none of the goo was leaking out of any of them right now.

“So you’re saying you saw THE Dragon-Faced Bandit?” Eugene's brows raised in surprise. Sheriff Hayden Reid scowled at him, his ageless elven face creased by a deep frown. “Yes, THE Dragon-Faced Bandit,” He growled. “I received a report from Wruthan a week ago that they had been spotted not too far from here.”

Eugene gritted his teeth “Great, just in time for another Empire Caravan to be coming through.”

Reid nodded “Exactly, the report said that they are carrying something very valuable…if the Night Dragons caught wind of that somehow, that’ll be why their leader finally chose to reappear.”

Sheriff Hayden Reid had taken over the post of Sheriff in Scornflat when Eugene was still a child. Hayden had been brought into the town after having been injured in a fire-fight between the Dragon-Faced bandit and their gang, the Night Dragons and a Wruthan Empire supply caravan. Eugene still remembered the elf arriving, shoulder to shoulder with three other soldiers lying in the back of a wooden farm wagon. He had been wearing a uniform too big for him that clung to his muscular elven frame, sticky with their own blood. All the soldiers died before the next morning but him. He was lucky, the Night Dragons weren’t known for leaving survivors. The mayor offered him the sheriff position after he recovered. The borders were becoming more dangerous it was time for the town to have someone that could enforce law, a Wruthan soldier would do nicely.

Nobody had seen the leader for years and nobody learned their true name. No “dragon faced” bodies were recovered from the fight so rumors abound that the nameless crime lord could be alive still. The Night Dragons were certainly still alive, causing havoc across the small border towns outside the Wruthan Empire. Travelers and stragglers leaving the Empire made easy prey for the predatory Night Dragons. Hayden didn’t like to talk about that night, and his coldness froze people before they could ask him.

Most people left Reid to his own company, but the child Eugene had been fascinated by him. He seemed dangerous and strong, the lone survivor, the last soldier. He often watched him, peeked through the window of the healer’s while she cleaned his wounds, his skin already riddled with scars. Young Eugene would watch from between the wooden panels of the fence while Reid practiced his aim, shooting bottles and cans, he never saw him miss. Eugene learned how to fight from watching Reid putting away ruffians. He was only half surprised when Sheriff Reid told him he knew about his spying after Eugene asked him to take him under him as a Deputy years later. He weathered The Sheriff’s frigid personability to help keep his home safe.

Eugene couldn’t imagine how Hayden Reid felt about the return of the man that had almost killed him so many years before. He seemed serious but then again the Sheriff always seemed serious. Sheriff Dan looked over to Sheriff Reid. It was getting hard to see him in the dying light  “Right.” Eugene finally broke the silence “So I’m just supposed to keep watch for them out here?”

Reid nodded and stopped his horse. “Right here will do.”

Eugene hopped off his horse, his boots disturbing parched, hard earth that hadn’t seen moisture in a long, long time. Reid pointed a long finger to the north “If they want to try to sneak into town they’ll come from this direction.” Eugene squinted at the dark horizon, trying to catch a glimpse of approaching bandits against the star filled desert. His breath made clouds in the still night air. “So if I see them how will I signal you?” He asked the sheriff, facing away from them.

“Well all you have to do is shoot your gun into the air.” Reid answered, “Like this.”

Eugene heard a click from behind him and turned to face Sheriff Hayden Reid.

When he turned he saw the flash of the Sheriff’s gun, and he looked at the Sheriff’s face.

He looked at the mask the sheriff was wearing. The bright mask, shining like fire, like the face of a dragon. He heard a second boom. Behind the sheriff he could see the town again, wreathed in a bright white ball of flame.

He took a step toward the sheriff and stopped.

He felt hot liquid pouring down his front.

He saw the sheriff’s gun pointed at his chest. He felt his head spinning as the ground came forward at him. The sheriff’s footfalls overcome with a ringing filling his ears. His fingers grasping for purchase in the ground as the thirsty earth drank his hot blood, making the desert floor turn to mud around him. Then he felt cold. Then he felt nothing.

…………...…………………………………………………………………………………………………

And then he saw a figure. He was holding their soft weathered hands and they were walking. His head felt fuzzy. What had just happened? It felt like a great span of time had passed. Or maybe none at all. He felt warm familiarity to the figure he walked with though he was almost sure that they had never met. The figure had a long shepards crook that tapped quietly as they walked. Where were they going? He saw the stars. North, they were going north but why? Why were they going North. He stopped walking and the figure stopped too. He let go of his hand and turned. He saw that his friends were walking North now too. Following the shepherd. Their glowing forms passing him. He began walking South. The Shepard turned back and continued walking North.

Eugene saw the sheriff’s face. He felt a small pain in his chest. Eugene picked up his pace. He saw Reid’s mask, a fearsome simulacrum painted from liquid gold on unyielding black like the cloak of death. His chest was burning. He began to run. He saw Hayden’s gun. Time slowed as he saw Hayden Reid’s scared finger squeeze the trigger, the steel shone silver under the moon, the bullet flash in the barrel and enter his own chest. His chest was on fire as he ran. Eugene yelled and he felt the world invert around him. He was filled with a burning rage, like he had never felt before. He felt that if he had been a fire he would consume the world and himself to destroy Reid for having killed him! Then in an instant he felt weaker then he ever had before. His body was cold. He shuddered, then pushed himself up of of the desert ground. The wind blew, and nobody saw as Eugene Dan’s body once again stood and began walking South.

[lordofassgard]

Dusk ‘Till Dawn

Requested: | yes | no |

Pairing: Theo Raeken x f!Reader

Summary: kinda Based on Dusk ‘Till Dawn by Zayn ft. Sia

or

Two broken messes end up safety-pinning each other’s souls back together

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, abuse and murder, cursing

Word Count: 4.6k+

A/N: I wrote this for @steph-oliveira, she’s one of the nicest people I’ve met in here and I’m really sorry this took me so long to do. I hope you like it  💕

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 Note: Theo is not a werewolf in this. The supernatural doesn’t exist in this au

You always thought you’d leave Beacon Hills. You always thought about the day you’d finally leave your horrible family behind and never come back. Yet, you never guessed it’d happen in the way it did.

One quiet night in July you sat in your room when a knock on your door tore your attention from the book in your hands. You got up and went to open the door, surprised to see Theo’s large frame. He looked around uneasy putting you on edge.

“Can I come in?” He asked before you could say a word.

You moved, giving him enough space to walk in noticing how he looked outside again as if there was someone watching him, or at least he thought so.

“What are you doing here?” You asked trying not to sound rude as you closed the door.

Something was off about him. Every noise outside made him jump and he kept looking out the window.

“I came to say goodbye.” He finally turned to you.

“What?” Your eyes widened at his statement.

“I’m leaving.”

“I got that part. But where are you going?”

“I...I don’t know. All I know is...that I’m not coming back.”

Was he moving away? No, he wouldn’t be so paranoid if that was the case. You were growing worried and you weren’t enjoying the anxiety his presence was bringing you. In any other situation, the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears and dilated pupils would be for different reasons and you’d be thrilled with his presence but not in that moment. Something was up and he wasn’t telling you.

“Theo, what’s going on?” You asked softly as you slowly walked closer to him.

“I...I can’t say. And you can’t tell anyone that I was here” He exhaled.

“Theo...what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

Whatever it was, it was serious. You had never seen him like that, Theo was usually so calm and collected.

“Promise me.” He grabbed you by the shoulders a bit too roughly and shook you.

You tensed up and he immediately let go of you, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled and ran a hand through his blond hair clearly frustrated with himself.

“I-I won’t but…”

You were interrupted by the sound of keys right outside your front door. Your eyes widened and you shoved Theo upstairs and told him to hide in your room with a promise you’d explain later. Luckily, the amount of time it took your father to successfully open the door, gave Theo enough time to hide.

Your father stumbled through the front door, the door hitting the wall from the force he pushed it with. He reeked of alcohol and nicotine, a smell you were used to, unfortunately. His half-open eyes landed on you and he brought one of his hands up to point at you.

“Where is he?”

“Who?” Since the door was still open, you saw Theo’s car parked in the driveway.

You mentally cursed yourself for being so careless. When it came to Theo Raeken, you were completely defenseless. You’d follow him straight into Hell if he asked you to. But once he shows up at your door, tears in his eyes that he tried to hide from you and looking so worried, nothing else in the world mattered. He’d do the same for you.

“Where is he?” Your father yelled, stumbling towards you.

“There’s no one here.”

“Liar.” The same hand he used to point at you, hit you in the face making you take a step back and your back hit the wall.

You held you now throbbing cheek as you looked at your dad through your hair.

“You think I’m stupid?” His fist contacted with your jaw making you groan in pain.

He kept hitting you in the face, torso, legs, everywhere. At some point, you slid down on the floor and he just started kicking you as he yelled insults at you. The only thing you could do was silently cry as you laid on the floor in a fetal position with your arms over your head.

“You’re just like your mothe…” He was interrupted and you heard a loud thud.

You slowly lifted your head finding Theo on top of your father punching him repeatedly. He had no chance of defending himself, the alcohol slowed down his reflexes. With the little strength you had left, you got up and pulled Theo away when your father was knocked out. Blood was splattered on the floor, on your clothes, on Theo’s clothes and your father’s clothes. Not a single ounce of you felt bad for the man lying unconscious on the floor, but you felt that you had to stop Theo. Not for you, not for the man who had beaten you for years, but for the only person who ever did something to help. Theo wasn’t getting his hands bloody because of you.

You looked away from your father and made eye contact with Theo. His fists were clenched, his breathing heavy and there was an unknown emotion in his eyes that scared you. Without saying a word, he got up from the floor and lifted you up carefully not to hurt you and walked upstairs to your room. He sat you down on your bed and started rummaging through your closet, getting clothes out on the bed.

“What are you doing?” You asked as he moved around.

“You’re not staying here. You’re coming with me.” He didn’t even glance at you, too focused on his task of getting everything you’d need in a short amount of time.

Theo managed to find a suitcase and shoved all the clothes he had gathered in it, in the end struggling to close it. Then he disappeared into the bathroom, returning seconds later with the first aid kit.

“Can you move?” He asked softly and you nodded.

He motioned for you to get up and you did, following him downstairs and out the door into his car. You glanced at your father still lying on the floor, in the same position Theo left him one last time and closed the door. Before you got in Theo’s car, you looked around hoping your none of your neighbors had realized what was going on. Luckily, everything was quiet.

You hoped in the passenger seat and Theo started the car, quickly driving off. As you watched the house you grew up in getting smaller and smaller through the side mirror, you couldn’t help but silently cry. You weren’t sure when you were coming back, at that point, you weren’t sure of anything but you were better off with Theo.

He glanced at you, but didn’t say a word and kept his eyes on the dark road. Yet, you could sense he wanted to say something from the way his bruised hands gripped the steering wheel. He was probably trying to get his thoughts in order before he said something he’d regret.

After a while, your cries turned into sobs making you shake curled up in the passenger seat. You felt a hand engulf one of yours, the warmth of Theo’s skin contrasting against the cold radiating off you. As you looked up at him through your lashes, he squeezed your hand reassuringly and gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

Yet, you had a feeling he didn’t believe it either.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・

Three days went by since you and Theo left town. You had pulled over at a couple of gas stations to go to the bathroom, get some food and change the bandages on your face and torso. Your bruises were fading to an ugly yellow mixed with blue and small red and purple dots. Every time you had to get out of the car, you wore a hoodie to cover your face and kept your eyes on the floor.

The two of you hadn’t spoken much, you had no idea where you were going and for the indecisive look on his face when you approached an exit in the highway told you that he didn’t know either.

You wanted to ask why he left town. The question had been sitting in the back of your head, slowly making its way to the front the more time passed.

On the fourth day, he decided that it was better if you got a motel room. Taking turns to drive left you exhausted and the both of you needed a full night of sleep. You stayed in the car as he checked you in. When he got back with the key, he carried your bags to your room.

As soon as you opened the door you were met with a weird smell, you would’ve stayed outside if you could but the hungry look you were from the middle-aged man from the room across yours made you think twice. The yellow lights flickered when you turned them on, giving the room a creepier vibe. Your eyes landed on the single bed and you frowned at the sheets who were probably white many moons ago. There was a small bathroom, its ajar door allowed you to peek inside from where you were standing. There were wall tiles missing and some things written on the bathroom door. For a second you thought that someone had definitely died in that room but you quickly shook that thought out of your head in order to be able to sleep there.

“I’m sorry this isn’t a five-star hotel but...I only brought money for one and this is more low profile.” Theo apologized once he set the bags down.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” You forced yourself to smile.

“You can change in the bathroom.” He looked up at you.

You opened your suitcase and got the first (and probably only) pair of pajamas you found before going to the bathroom. Once you got out, Theo was sitting on the bed in nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt that clung onto his back, making him look even better. You had to stop for a second, allowing your eyes to travel down his figure before you walked over to your bag placing your dirty clothes inside some random bag you found there.

“Theo?” You called softly once you closed your suitcase.

He hummed a response, his gaze fixated on something outside the room’s only window.

“Why did you run?” You sat on the other side of the bed, your backs facing each other.

You heard him take a deep breath and then heard some shuffling. Turning around, you faced his back once again. His shoulders were tense as he ran his hand through his hair tugging at its roots. You were about to open your mouth to tell him that he didn’t have to explain himself if he didn’t want to but he beat you to it.

“I-I killed someone.”

You froze. He what? His words echoed in your head for a few seconds before you could even react. How were you supposed to react? How were you supposed to react when the boy you liked, maybe even loved, just dropped a bomb like that on your hands?

Fearing your silence, Theo slowly turned, finally facing you, only to be met with your wide eyes and open mouth. He opened his mouth a couple of times, only to close it every time, not really knowing what to say. It wasn’t every day he told the girl he liked he killed someone.

Your reaction, or lack of it, was driving him crazy. He’d rather have you screaming at him, crying, running out the door, anything. But you were just frozen, unable to give him a proper reaction.

“You what?” You finally asked, quietly, when the initial shock passed.

“I...I didn’t mean to. It was self-defense.” His hands nervously fumbled with the ends of his shirt.

Finally looking at him, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. So he was running from the police and it wasn’t some sort of teenage rebellion against his parents to prove a point. You sat four days in a car with a criminal. You sat four days in a car with a criminal because he dragged you with him. If the police found you, you’d go to jail too. Anger coursed through our veins and you clenched your fists.

“Then why the fuck did you bring me?” The low tone in your voice made him flinch.

Never, in all the time he had known you, he heard that tone in your voice. It seemed cold, distant and somehow angry but without showing it. He decided immediately that he hated it, it didn’t suit your usually calm and sweet personality. Theo wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at some twisted version of you that he somehow felt responsible for creating.

“I...I couldn’t…” He stumbled with his words “I couldn’t leave you there. The...the way your dad treated you…”

You opened your mouth to speak but your mind was blank. You appreciated his gesture, if you had stayed back at home, you didn’t even want to think what would’ve happened to you. But at the same time, it was reckless. He could get both of you in jail.

Your mind was racing and you had no idea what to do. Should you stay? Should you leave? What did you want to do? What was best to do? And why were your head and your heart telling you different things? Getting up, you walked towards the door, not once looking back at the poor boy’s frown.

“I need to get some air.” You announced as you opened the door.

“I did it out of love.” Was the last thing you heard before you closed the door.

It took a few minutes for your brain to process what he had said. It was only when you got to the car that his words hit you. He loved you. Theo Raeken loved you. In any other situation, you’d be thrilled but in that moment it only made things harder. Leaning against the hood of Theo’s car, you looked up at the night sky. The cold night air wasn’t helping clear your head, it only made you shiver.

You started weighing pros and cons. Were you safer with Theo than you were back home? Yes. Was it risky to be with Theo? Definitely. Was the risk worth it? Perhaps. It shouldn’t be hard to decide. You should listen to your brain and go home, even if you didn’t know how to get there. But your heart, that bastard was screaming so loud you couldn’t even listen to your brain even if you wanted to.

After what it felt like an eternity, when in fact it was probably half an hour you decided to go back to your room. Placing your hand on the doorknob, you hesitated to open the door. How were you going to confront him? After his confession and your reaction, things would certainly get weird. You took a deep breath before opening the door, scared of what you’d find on the other side of it.

Theo was in the same place, his hair messy probably from running his hands through it too many times. He didn’t look up at you, his gaze stayed on the carpet by his feet as he sniffled every couple of seconds. It was painful to see him like that. He looked so fragile, so messed up and you just wanted to make it better. You walked over to him and sat on the bed next to him, so close your knees touched and wrapped your arms around his torso engulfing him in a hug. Theo wrapped his around your shoulders and hid his face in the crook of your neck as he sobbed.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled after a few minutes.

“It’s okay.” You reassured him “It’s okay.”

No other words were spoken that night, there was no need to do so. Actions spoke louder than words and the fact that you decided to stay gave him all the answers he needed. The two of you were together for the worse or for the best and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Next morning, you woke up with a sore neck due to the weird position you slept in. Theo was moving around, his hair still wet from the shower. When he noticed you were awake, he smiled at you.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” You stretched.

“I’m going to get us some food, I’ll be right back.” Theo announced before leaving and closing the door behind him.

While he was gone, you decided to take a shower. The not so hot water, helped you relax and it felt great after spending so long on the road. When you were getting dressed in the bathroom, you realized you forgot a shirt. Since Theo was still gone, you got back to the room and grabbed your suitcase placing it on the bed while looking for a shirt in nothing but a bra and jeans. You cringed as your bare feet made contact with the dirty carpet but you focused on finding a shirt first. While you were going over your bag, the door opened and Theo walked in. He didn’t even notice you at first as he tried to close the door without dropping the food he was carrying. While this happened, you were in shock. He got back too soon (or you took too long) and your mind was blank. You didn’t have the instinct to get anything to cover yourself with, you just froze.

When he finally looked at you, he frowned. You probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights, yet that was not the reaction you expected from him. At least a smirk, or turning around or dropping the food, not a frown. He set the food down on the table and walked over to you, the frown still evident on his face. Your breath hitched in your throat and your heartbeat got faster against your ribcage the closer he got. He finally stopped a few inches in front of you, his eyes locked not on your chest but on your collarbones. His fingers gently brushed against a place near your bra strap as his frown deepened. You hissed and pulled away, looking down at one of your bruises. Funny thing was, after all that happened you almost forgot they were there. Looking at Theo through your lashes, his blue eyes met yours and his features softened.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips before setting on your lips “I should’ve…” He paused “I should’ve made a better job at protecting you, I…” He looked into your eyes again.

“No, no.” You cut him off “It’s not your fault.”

His hand dropped back to his side and he closed his eyes. You placed your index finger under his chin, making him look at you.

“I’m the one who should be sorry...for what I said last night. I was surprised and I-I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” He reassured you with a smile.

Silence fell in between the two of you. Theo was still right in front of you, his eyes focused on your lips and you were still half naked. You felt his warm breath against your face and closed your eyes when his nose bumped against yours. You licked your lips and waited. It was happening, Theo Raeken was going to kiss you. After months of liking him, you were finally going to kiss him. His lips brushed against yours to see if you’d pull back. Once he was sure that you wouldn’t, he finally kissed you. You surprised yourself by how quickly you kissed back. His mouth was warm and his lips were softer than you could’ve ever imagined. Your hands clenched his shirt and he brought his to our face deepening the kiss. A low growl came from his throat as you parted your lips allowing his tongue to slip between them.

A knock on the door made you pull away from each other, startled and out of breath. You looked at the door over Theo’s shoulder, mentally cursing whoever was on the other side of it. Theo sighed and cursed under his breath as he turned around and got something from his bag before handing it to you and telling to go to the bathroom. He walked towards the door but only opened when he was sure the bathroom door was closed.

On the other side of that door, your head was spinning as you clutched the fabric he handed you. You put it on and blushed once you looked in the mirror and realized it was one of his hoodies. You had worn his clothes before, to cover your face, but your face was back to normal, no longer bruised, you could’ve worn one of your hoodies. Your blush deepened when you noticed your swollen lips from kissing him and remembered that his looked the same once you pulled away from each other.

When you got out of the bathroom, both suitcases were by the door and while the man from the front desk stood on the doorway, arms crossed over his chest with a frown on his face.

“You should’ve checked out at 9 am.” He spat.

You glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand, probably the most advanced piece of technology in the room, seeing that it was only 9:10 am. Raising your eyebrows at the angry man, you found his eyes already on you, something that made you uncomfortable. Theo noticed it too, grabbed the suitcases and made sure to bump into the man’s shoulder when he walked past him. You were right behind him, trying to put as much distance between you and the man.

Once you were back on the road, you looked at the food Theo bought.

“Where did you get this from?” You asked slightly disgusted.

The food looked dry and it had to be at least two days old.

“Vending machine.” He answered, not taking his eyes off the road.

You grabbed a sandwich and a water bottle before asking him what he wanted.

“How are you gonna eat this waffle if you’re driving?” You asked before you bit into your sandwich.

“I’ll pull over or something.” He shrugged.

An idea popped into your head and you smiled. Theo didn’t seem to notice, still focused on the road. You ripped the plastic and broke a piece of the waffle, bringing it up to Theo’s lips. Without hesitating, he ate it. Sometimes he’d bite your fingers making you giggle. You ended up forgetting about your own food as you fed him pieces of the waffle, the blush that had installed itself in your cheeks having not moved since you kissed back in the motel.

“Where are we going?” You asked when you noticed the road you were taking was empty.

“I have no fucking clue.” He sighed.

“We should head south.” You suggested.

“Why?”

“To cross the border. And we should ditch the car, we don’t know if they’re looking for us.”

He looked alarmed when you mentioned ditching the car. You understood why. How were you gonna keep going without a car? And it was his car after all. He probably had so many memories of it, some of them with you, others with his other friends and family. The first time he drove it, the first time he slept in it probably too drunk to drive back home. We don’t love things for what they are, you realized, we loved them for the memories we made along the way with them. In some way, it’s the same thing with people. You knew that the fact that he left Beacon Hills was still haunting him. He left his family, his friends, the town he was born in and maybe the most important thing, his innocence. Theo had left Beacon Hills with blood staining his hands, quite literally and you knew that was something that he’d carry with him for the rest of his days.

On the other hand, you didn’t even look back once you saw the “you’re leaving Beacon Hills” sign. Maybe if the circumstances were different, if you had grown in a normal environment you’d probably miss your hometown as well. Maybe there would be no need for you to leave in the first place.

Silence filled the car after your words. He knew that you were right, the chances of you getting caught were fewer if you followed your plan. And you had to do it quickly before the police put out an alert and the two of you would never make it past the border. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, smiling as you felt him intertwining your fingers.“We’ll be okay.”

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・

The front door opened and you heard Theo’s voice and small giggles.

“Daddy!” Your son, Thomas, screamed and you heard his small footsteps.

You got up from the couch and walked over to them smiling. Theo was carrying Thomas on his hip as the little boy told him about his day. As soon as Theo’s eyes landed on you, he extended his free arm towards you with a smile.

“How are my girls doing?” He asked as he planted a kiss on your lips and rested his hand on your swollen stomach rubbing it gently.

“We’re doing fine. She’s a bit restless today though.” You placed your hand on top of his and leaned your head on his shoulder.

That night, while you were making dinner, you spaced out. Hearing your son’s laugh from the other room got you thinking about the times where it was just you and Theo trying to get where you were today. From the moment you left your old house in Beacon Hills until you settled in your small house in a quiet town in Mexico where luckily for you, no one asked questions. Everyone was friendly, there was lots of space for Thomas to play and the three of you loved it. A lot had happened before you settled down. So many small jobs in towns you’d rather forget the names so that you could afford to keep moving. Always laying low and hoping no one would ask questions. You got fake identities but decided to keep your first names. Now it felt peaceful, it felt right.

Later, after you tucked Thomas in, you stayed in his room watching him sleep, knowing that any of your children would have to go through what you did to find comfort. You made it, things were okay now. Theo showed up behind you, hugging you and resting his hands on your belly.

“He’s all grown up.” You smiled down at the sleeping toddler.

“It feels like it was yesterday that we got here.” He rested his head on your shoulder, his stubble tickling your skin.

“I like it here.”

“I like it anywhere, as long as you’re with me.”

You turned your face so that you could look at him.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

In the end, you were right. Things were going to be okay, things were okay, things would always be okay as long as the two of you were together.

feedback is appreciated :) i’d link my ask box but tumblr is a dick

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Red Rose - Chapter 16

Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11Ch. 12 Ch. 13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15 CH. 16

Summary: Riley manages the fallback from the hedgemaze fiasco, but she’s soon reminded that there’s no dull moment in Cordonia, as Tariq barges into her room and her and Drake have a moment.

Rating: M -  Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Theodora sat at her dresser, brushing her thick, platinum blonde mane. Puberty has done her very well, with her skin as fair and spotless as it was at her birth, the hourglass figure and the harmonious breast also being God-given gifts. Her eyes were cold and cutting as a knife.

That night, they shone in determination.

“Promises are made, promises are broken.” She told to her own reflection. “Well, father, two can play at that game.”

She took off the brush from her hair and placed the richly-engraved brush back into the dresser drawer. She then rose from the chair and walked over to her closet. She took some clothes from the racks and threw them at a bag open at the door. She then proceeded to change her blue dress into a pair of pants, a shirt and a green parka.

All dressed, she threw the bag over her shoulders and sneaked off to her parents’ room. At that time of day, it was predictably empty. Behind a painting, lay a safe, and the code was 1918.

Inside the safe, there was cash, jewels, and most importantly, a hostage for her escape operation.

She refused to end up like her parents and siblings. She refused living that odious life. There it was a passport for another life, another herself.

Theodora threw everything inside the bag and sneaked her way into the house’s backdoor.

Half an hour later, safely on a train going away from the life she knew, she took a deep breath. Relief washed her lithe body.

Escape seemed at hand’s reach.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

“Oh, God.” Riley bemoaned. “I’m so screwed.”

“This does hamper our initial plans, yes.” Charlotte noted. “We would stay in Cordonia until Theophany, and, when Liam did not pick you, we would have a good reason to leave. Riley would be killed off in some tragic accident a few months later, and that would be that.

“What we didn’t count on is the fact that you want to stay.”

“No matter, we are sticking with our original plan.” Riley said, determined. “Regardless of what I may be feeling about Liam or about anyone else, there is no way I can stay in Cordonia come February. Even if the impossible happens and Liam does choose me.”

“But there is a way.” Charlotte said, thoughtful. “Think about it: your story held uncontested up until now, even with the security services looking thoroughly into it. I doubt anyone except perhaps the MI-5 or the CIA could blow it now, much less some lowly yellow press, sketch of a reporter. And that’s only in the first few months, once the rage of your marriage passes, they stop snooping on the dirty secrets of your past and start snooping on the dirty secrets of your present.

“You have files of the marriage of Amara Grey and Brennan Flowers, the latter of whom died without any relatives to say you weren’t related to them, and the former is so deep in this as yourself, she won’t blab or else she’ll be packing to a federal prison.

“You planted school records in not one, not two, but in three different institutions, you swapped the yearbooks from the library in Cedar Cove, and all your supposed colleagues seem to remember a shy, quiet student at the corner they don’t quite remember the name of.

“You fed a fake Facebook for years, for Christ’s sakes!” Charlotte exasperated. “Honestly, if I didn’t know you, if I didn’t know you were lying, I would fucking think you were really Riley Flowers.”

Riley weighed what has been said by Charlotte, and she had to give her a point, by now there is no conceivable way for her to be discovered, not by the Cordonian court, and not if she didn’t screw up. However, one thing weighed heavily on her mind: “What about Karen and Ludwig?”

“Riley, my promise holds regardless of you deciding to be a queen or not. A week in February, and you’ll be free.” Charlotte said, in all seriousness. “We could tell everybody you were off to New York tying up some loose ends, we could even have Amara backing up these claims.”

Riley grumbled. “It still don’t change what happened today. Liam and I still had this huge fight, and we both said things we shouldn’t have, even if we did meant them.”

“Hey, sweetie, do you still have your journals?” Charlotte asked.

“My journals?” Riley said, confused.

“When you were younger, every time you got upset, you used to write your feelings away. Don’t you do that anymore?”

Then it dawned on her. Her notebooks. She used to write on them every day, as in to chase away the feelings of loneliness and fear from getting caught by the Rosenbergs. She remembered to take them to Cordonia, but she hadn’t touched a single one of them ever since she left New York.

Riley rummaged her trunk and pulled out six leather-bound notebooks. “Here they are. All the way back from the time I moved to New York.”

“Now, why don’t you give them to Liam as an apology gift?” Charlotte proposed.

“What?” Riley shouted. “Are you insane?!”

“Why not? I know you are paranoid enough not to put any names on those, and yet they are personal enough for him to see you’re making an effort to reach out. Besides, they’re the most genuine piece of yourself we can afford to give him right now.”

“That… That…” Riley stuttered while the wheels of her brain turned. “That might be actually a good idea.”

“I’m full of those today.” Charlotte said, smugly. “Now, come, we have to re-do your make-up and accessorize with this dress. Lord, for as much Bertrand is a stick-in-the-mud, he really has no sense of style!”

Riley giggled. “He really don’t. All that ‘country lord’ look of his isn’t working on his favor.”

New York City, Summer 1979

Melissa payed her cabby and got out of the car. Her meager belongings, mostly clothing, were packed into a small, black bag.

She had just arrived from the airport, she was at her parents’ home, in Georgia, and it certainly did not end her way. Not that she really blames them, she had thrown them a bomb.

She had met Kristijan during her internship at the United Nations. She was working under the Spanish ambassador, while Kristijan was a guard to Lord Talmai Bartholomaios, the Cordonian envoy.

They had met when he helped her when she got lost on her way to a meeting at the UN. He had been posted there for over three years and could probably walk through those halls in his sleep. He had a rare afternoon off, as Lord Bartholomaios was otherwise engaged, so, after her meeting, they went out for a coffee and became friends.

After some outings through the city, they started dating. It was a whirlwind romance, one she threw herself into head first.

However, Labor Day was just around the corner, and Lord Bartholomaios was due to return to Cordonia, and Kristijan is supposed to go with. He had told her his ‘commander’, the head of the security services he wasn’t allowed to disclose, was impressed with his work, and offered him a superior position, one that required him to move back to his homeland, permanently.

Facing the possibility of never seeing each other again, Kristijan proposed to Melissa last Friday night. She said she had to talk it over with her family first and promised him an answer the following Monday.

Today.

She used the card key Kristijan had given her and waltzed into the hotel. She went up to his floor and knocked on his door.

He answers her with a grin and a: “Melissa, you’re back!”

“Let’s do it, Kristijan!” She said, overwhelmed. “Let’s go to Cordonia! Let’s get married!”

She didn’t give him time to respond, as she kissed him passionately.

It might be against every ounce of reason in her body, but Melissa Walker was in love.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

An hour later, Riley snuck off to Liam’s chambers. No-one saw her, as the servants were busy with preparations for the party downstairs, while the noblepeople were in their rooms dressing up.

She knocked three times, slow and steadily, waiting for a response. After a moment, a tortured ‘Enter!’ was heard from the other side of the heavy, engraved doors.

Prompted, she pushed the heavy doors weakly, as if she was afraid of it disturbing someone’s sleep. The room behind it looked the part, as its thick curtains were drawn, letting none of the sunset light into the room. The bed was also disheveled, as if none of the servants remembered to make it that morning.

Sat on a chair, with his back turned to the door, sat Liam. He had a glass on his hand and a tumbler on the coffee table in front of him, the brown color of the liquid suggested it was bourbon.

“If you came here to tell me I should be getting ready for dinner, pass along the message to my father I will be out shortly.” His tired voice rasped through the room.

“I did not come here to tell you that.” Riley said, in a meek tone. “Though, I can try to reach the King.”

“Riley!” The blond exclaimed, turning to see her. “What are you doing here?”

The woman sighed. “I came here to talk. To apologize, actually. I said some things I shouldn’t have, and I overreacted a little about… that.”

He gaped. “No, no, you were right, I shouldn’t have read that file. I just got scared and did something stupid, and when you caught me, I got scared again and just made everything worse. I should be the one to apologize.”

“Let’s agree we were both on the wrong, then.” She offered. “Regardless, I haven’t been doing a very good job of soothing your worries. You felt the need to read that file because I don’t talk about the past often, and while you’ve never asked, I also haven’t been going out of my way to tell you about it either.

“I don’t do that because it is painful for me to remember. Not the thing about my mother or my aunt and uncle, but for me it feels like every step of the way so far have been difficult somehow, and I just keep hoping for the next to be easier, to be painless. For me to be able to do that, I have to try and forget a little bit of the past and try to move forward, without looking back.

“When I moved to New York, I got into a little of a rough path and I found that writing my feelings helped sorting them out. So, I want you to keep these.” She handed him the six notebooks.

Liam inspected the objects. “What are these?”

“Those are my journals. Six years-worth of them, from the time I moved to New York to the day before I’ve met you. I haven’t written on them ever since I arrived, though, because every day seems more hectic then the one before, so…” She trailed off.

He placed them neatly on the coffee table, away from the tumbler and the glass of booze. “Are you sure you want me to read them?” He looked deep into her charcoal eyes.

“No, I’m not.” She said, honestly. “But I’m sure I want to give you, us, a sincere attempt, and if that’s what it takes, then so be it.”

Liam quickly crossed the distance between them and hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Riley.” He whispers into her hair. “Thank you for being so kind and patient with me, even when I don’t deserve it.”

He kissed her deeply, making her knees go weak.

Palace of the Brigades, Avlona, Cordonia, Summer 1984

Melissa had her finest dress on, and her little child was also dress impeccably. She lived at the Brigades for five years, now, but she wasn’t quite used to the idea of royalty, and the prospect of actually meeting one made her giggly.

She walked over to some French doors, where Bastien, one of her husband’s apprentices, waited stoically for her.

“Good afternoon, Bastien.” She greeted, amicably. More than once the young man has had a meal with them at their apartment on the service lodge of the palace, and both Kristijan and Melissa had a soft spot for the boy.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” He smiled at her. “Your Majesty waits for you.”

“Lead the way!”

He nodded and opened the door for her. It leads into a small drawing room, in which the Queen have had served some tea and biscuits.

The young royal rose to her feet, with some difficulty, taking upon account she was heavily pregnant, and greeted her. “Madam Walker, I am very glad you took upon my invitation this afternoon.”

Melissa’s face probably betrayed the frantic thoughts running through her head. “Y-Your Majesty!” She bowed hastily. “It is I who is glad about your invitation!”

She laughed softly. “Please, call me Carmela. We are alone, and I was hoping we could have a more relaxed conversation.”

“Of course, ma’am. I mean, Carmela.” It was rather strange calling a girl younger than herself ‘ma’am’, after all.

“Great!” She smiled. “Is this little Drake I hear so much about?” The blue-blooded approached the carriage, where the boy slept soundly. “How old is he again?”

“Six months.” The woman answered, with a soft smile. “He was born in late Fall last year.”

“How adorable.” She gushed. “Pardon me, I have the baby fever. I must run poor Bastien haggard with all my questions about all the mothers at the palace.”

Melissa giggled. “I remember how I was with Drake. I spent the day looking through baby clothes catalogs and pregnancy books. When are you due?”

“The doctors say All-Hallows, but I think this one’s going to be an early bird.” She patted her own protuberant stomach fondly. “I’m thinking of naming him Liam if it’s a boy.”

The other did a small double-take at the revelation. “It is different in Cordonia.”

“It is unusual in Italy as well.” She dismissed, with a faint smile. “But I’m a fan of Liam Clancy. Constantine’s going to take some convincing, though.”

“I thought the King wanted something more traditional.”

Carmela shrugged. “Some Greek mouthful, yes.” She poured two cups of tea and handed one to Melissa. “Speaking of things unusual, I never expected to see a surname like Kristijan’s in Cordonia. Walker,” She tested on her tongue, with her foreign accent. “It’s English, right?”

“It’s actually my name.” Melissa pointed out. “Kristijan said his surname carried a stigma in Cordonia, and he wanted to change it when we married.”

“Oh, my! There’s so much I know not.” Carmela commented. “Was it Slavic? I’ve noticed our Serbian subjects are very hostile to our rule. It would make sense for Kristijan to change it when he joined our employment.”

The other woman shook her head. “No, it was Greek. Bunas, after the river.”

“No, it doesn’t ring any bells.” She commented.

“How about the social season, ma’am?” She tried to change the subject. “You’ll probably be bed-ridden by then.”

“Don’t tell me.” She grimaced. “It would be my first one as Queen. Fortunately, Constantine is able to attend alone the events elsewhere. What worries me are the ceremonies held here at the Brigades. Which reminds me, Melissa?”

“Yes?” The woman responded.

“You were a diplomat once, right? Before marrying?”

She laughed uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t say that. I worked at an embassy, and I have a degree in International Relations.”

“But you do understand about ceremonials?”

“I suppose? Somewhat, at least.” Melissa said.

Carmela smiled broadly. “Great! You see, I was looking for a secretary, to help me with the preparations for the season. I would do it myself, but with the pregnancy and everything…” She trailed off.

The woman made a double-take. “Are you sure you want me?”

“Of course. You know the ropes, and I know I can trust you. It is more I can say about any other woman in this house.” The monarch answered. “And you will be paid handsomely for the job.”

Melissa weighs her options. As the wife of Kristijan, she was not allowed to take employment outside the palace and caring for Drake full time get really boring fast. Besides, with the money, they could save for retirement, which came early for royal bodyguards.

“Okay. I’m in.” The eldest smiled.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

Riley arrived at dinner rigorously on time, perfectly composed and her head held high. Liam wasn’t with her, staying behind as in not to arise suspicion, but aside from him, all of the guests at the chateau were already in attendance.

Servants bustle about, keeping the tables freshly stocked with foods and drinks. Over a couple of tables, a few girls conversed in rushed tones.

“The King and the Queen seemed quite taken with you today, Lady Madeleine.” Some random suitor commented with said blonde.

She smirked. “They respect my opinions. And I believe we have a lot in common. I hope I’ll have the support and respect of all the ladies of the court if I’m chosen.”

The tone of her ‘if’ portrayed no doubt.

Penelope sat next to the pair and whispered back: “To tell you the truth, I think Lady Riley may be the one to be chosen, and I think she would be a wonderful queen.”

As much as Penelope’s heart was in the right place, that certainly wasn’t the moment to make that kind of statement. Much less to Madeleine, who frowned quite pronouncedly: “I suppose you are entitled to have your own opinion.” She said.

Charlotte waved at her, as if they were just meeting. Riley started walking over to her, also keeping up the appearances, when she crossed paths with Tariq.

“Good evening, Tariq.” She greeted, politely.

“Lady Riley.” He nodded, acknowledging. “It is always a pleasure seeing you.”

“A rare one, it seems. How have you been?” She engaged in conversation. Bertrand would be proud.

He laughed. “Indeed. I’ve been as splendid as you look, my dear.”

“You seem flirty tonight.” She pointed out.

“It comes from the deepest recesses of my being.” He winked. “This event can hardly bear a star as bright as yours.”

Riley thought it to be strange behavior from the young nobleman but preferred not to probe. She has enemies enough, no need going out and making more. “Thank you, Tariq. You flatter me.”

“It feels me with joy to hear you say that.” He beamed. “You know, I have to tell you, after talking to most of the other ladies here, I find myself having nurtured such an… appreciation for you. You are like a breath of New York fresh air.”

Knowing those same girls he speaks of, Riley can only agree to the sentiment, even if the phrasing is hardly ideal. “I don’t think anyone says that.”

“The other suitors are absolutely boring.” He admonished. “One talks only about her dogs, another merely sulks to the corners. And don’t get me started on Olivia.”

“Some of the other girls have their charms.” Riley weighed.

Tariq scoffed. “If they do, I have yet to find them. They have good breeding, wealth and manners, but they’re absolutely dull. How disappointing.”

There it was. Tariq the Plutocrat. Riley was starting to worry he had banged his head at some table corner.

He, however, wasn’t done: “Whereas with you, Lady Riley, you grow more interesting every time we speak. I must, however, take my leave. May you have a fantastic evening.”

Tariq bows and left, while Maxwell approaches.

“There’s our little social star!” He greets, with an unusual dose of excitement. “Is that Tariq you were talking to?”

“Yeah, and it was weird.” She commented, while looking at the place the young middle-eastern left empty.

“Strange?” Maxwell inquired, confused. “How so?”

“He was so amicable! And before today, we barely talked.”

The man tutted. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Now, come, Bertrand and I got a table this way.”

Palace of the Brigades, Avlona, Cordonia, Spring 1993

Melissa was sitting on the kitchen table. The dinner was served, and the children already ate. Drake and Savannah were at the conjoined living room, having their TV time.

Kristijan was late for dinner, again. Melissa knew his patrol schedule was messy, but he had said he would be home that evening. She tapped her fingers against the table, anger and hungry, as she had been kind enough to wait for him.

She sighed angrily and walked over to the living room. “Kids,” She told them while turning off the TV. “It’s bed time.”

“But, mommy!” Little Savannah complains. “Daddy isn’t here yet!”

The woman sighed once more. Her husband gave her nothing but trouble. “I know, darling. But it’s late, it’s way past the time for little girls to be in bed.”

She pouted. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Grown-Up.” She smiled at her daughter’s antics. “Tell you what, go to bed now and I’ll have daddy giving you a good-night kiss when he gets here, ‘kay?”

“’Kay…” Savannah caved and walked over to the bedroom she shared with his older brother.

“Drake?” The woman called.

“Yeah?” He grumbled. Sometimes, she swore that boy was born sour.

“Watch your sister, okay? I’ll go over to the kitchens, but I’ll be right back.”

He looked at her warily but nodded his head. She kissed his hair and went out the front door.

Closing and locking her apartment’s door for security, she started walking down the hall. However, instead of going down to the kitchens like she said she would, Melissa walked over to the bachelors’ wing and knocked on an apartment’s door.

A man came out. “Mrs. Walker?” He asks, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“Bastien, you’re on the night shift tonight, aren’t you?” She inquired, feverishly.

“Yeah, I was going out right now.” He said. “Why? Do you need anything?”

“Actually, I do.” She smirked, with a hint of crazy in her eyes. “I need you to take me to the Queen’s chambers. It’s where you’re supposed to switch guard, isn’t it?”

He looked at the woman he so deeply respected and cared for. Bastien was sure that if she was asking such a thing, she had a legitimate reason for it, no matter how unorthodox. “Follow me.” He said and led the way.

On a hurried place, they made their way through the labyrinthine, ghastly hallways of the Brigades at nighttime. When they arrived at the heavy, mahogany doors of the quarters, Melissa eyed Bastien for him to make himself scarce.

The look he gave in response said that he would not hinder her, but he sure wasn’t leaving.

It was his own peril. Taken by murderous rage, she opened the door and walked right into the room. Unfortunately for Melissa, she saw exactly what she was looking for.

She picked up a shirt laid on the ground and placed on her nose. She knew that aftershave anywhere. She let it fall to her feet as she walks over to the bed. The couple laying there was fast asleep.

Melissa sat on a chair by the dresser and turned on the lamp. She took a good look at the face of the man resting on there. Tan skin, shaved neatly, but with a defined, rugged, hairy chest.

She picked up a heel on the floor and admired it. A dark blue, satin Zanotti, with silver fastenings. A beautiful shoe for a beautiful woman. Melissa twirled it by the heel, and then threw at the man.

He woke up, of course, startled. His eyes focused on her: “Melissa! What are you doing here?”

Her eyes glinted with the light of the lamp. “Why, Kristijan, you’re late for dinner. I came looking for you.”

The woman woke up, dizzy, and looked over at Melissa. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Regina, did I wake you up?” She asks, sickly sweet. “Now you can join us.”

“I would ever.” She admonished. “Have some respect!”

Melissa clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Oh, Regina, I find it terribly funny how you Cordonians think everybody owe you respect. When will you learn respect is earned?”

She leaned over the bed, over Kristijan, and whispered to her: “Don’t try evoking any Laws of Exception on me. I’m not a Cordonian citizen. You can’t throw me on jail.”

The Queen fumed but did not say a thing. Kristijan, however, pulled her away and stood up. He was as naked as the day he was born, his intimacy hanging limp by his leg.

He tugged on her arm, and whispered menacingly: “Let’s go, Melissa.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” She wriggled her arm away, and then lowered her sight to his genitalia. “But I think you should change first. I know you clearly don’t really care who see your bits, but some people may.”

She stood up and started to leave. Kristijan came after her, thankfully using some underwear, shouting: “Melissa! Melissa, wait!”

“What?!” She turned and barked.

“Just hear me out, okay?!” He said, frozen in place by her glare.

“What are going to say, huh?! It wasn’t what it looked like?!” She shouted, the sound bounced from the walls and empty rooms.

He sighed. “It is what it looked like. Or not, I don’t know. I did sleep with the Queen, I have been sleeping with her for some time, too. But what did you want me to do? She’s the Queen, for Christ’s sake!”

“I wanted you to keep it in your pants. I expected you to keep your vows. I expected you to, at least, tell me what was going on.” She said, cold.

He scoffed. “And then what? You think I’d still have a job here? A place to live?”

“We would find a way, Kristijan!” She shouted, frustrated. “I’m not an invalid!”

He sighed one more time. “What now?”

“I’m going back to the US.” She said, seriously. “I’m taking the kids. There’s nothing for us here anymore.”

With that, Melissa left, and Kristijan did not try to stop her.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

Riley followed Maxwell to the table and sat down between him and Charlotte, who accompanied them on that meal.

Soon enough, the sound of glass clinking fell through the al-fresco dining area. Everyone then turns to the source of the noise, which was the figure of Prince Liam, standing up next to Constantine and Regina.

“If I may have everyone’s attention, I’d like to say a few words before we serve the main course.” The blond announced. “First, I would like to thank everyone for joining us out here at the country estate. I had the honor and privilege of having you in my court, and I could not ask for better company.

“As I step into my father’s place in the next few weeks, I can only hope I am half the man he was for Cordonia.”

“Long live Prince Liam!” Maxwell pulls the chant, followed by claps and cheers by all attendees.

“Thank you all.” Liam bowed. “When we next meet like this, it will be on the next event of the season, the traditional New Year’s party hosted by the illustrious House Beaumont.”

The crowd applauds, and Maxwell hollered: “Woo-hoo!” He then turns to Riley. “I can’t wait to show you the manor.”

“Maxwell, aren’t we a little strapped for cash right now?” She asks, concerned. “Can we afford hosting a party this big right now?”

He grimaced. “I don’t think we have a choice. Like Liam said, it’s tradition. We can’t back out now.”

“Yes. If we back out, we might as well announce to the whole world we are officially ruined!” Bertrand barked.

“Bertrand has a point.” Charlotte pointed out. “The manor house is big and opulent enough, we’ll be fine as long as we keep them busy. If the food is a little lacking, I bet no-one will notice.”

As the applause dies out, Liam continues: “The Beaumonts will surely give us another legendary night to remember. Until then, I thank you once again and wish you a good night.”

Palace of the Brigades, Avlona, Cordonia, Spring 1993

The Walker family, the personnel of the palace division of the Security Services and the Royal Family was congregated at the chapel within the Brigade Hill, honoring a sacrifice of one of their own.

As per request, there would be no speeches, no talking, no medals. There would only be a prayer conducted by the chaplain, which was over. The people were walking on a line, saying their condolences to the widow, standing by the casket.

After a big group of maids, security guards and other relatives payed their respects, there came the turn of the Royal Family. The youngest boy, Liam, was spared from the ceremony, thankfully.

Melissa couldn’t spare Drake of many uncomfortable comparisons he was subject to as the ‘common’ friend of one of the Princes, but the absence of a parent was a circumstance she really hadn’t considered to face up to a few weeks before.

Then, when Kristijan’s sins had come to light, Melissa was ready for filing divorce. She had bought the plane tickets, prepared the kids’ passports, wired her savings, called some relatives. And now she was a widow.

The first one to offer his sentiments was Prince Leo. The teenaged aristocrat couldn’t be bothered to play the part appropriately, appearing bored throughout the ceremony. Though, it was fair to say he would have rather for Kristijan to have failed on his mission.

Following him, there was Constantine. He hugged her softly, and said, on a low tone: “Your husband died a hero. The Royal Family has an eternal debt to you, ma’am.”

Then, it was the face she dreaded the most. Regina. Her dead husband’s lover. The woman he died to protect. There was something salacious, belonging to a cheap paperback novel, having such an encounter.

She was wearing a black, embroidered silk dress, her head covered with a shawl and a Spanish mother-of-pearl clasp. As she often does, Regina was asserting her power with subtlety.

The royal approached her and whispered softly to her ear. “I want to see you out of this country by nightfall. Take your snotty twerps with you.”

“Say, Regina, doesn’t your husband find most strange for you to be all alone with Kristijan on the gardens? At the middle of the night?” She asks, with a smirk.

“Are you really threatening me?” She barked.

“Not at all, Your Majesty. I am merely showing you I am not without my own bite.” She said, neutral. “But rest assured, by this time tomorrow, I’ll be far away from your sight.”

The Queen huffs and backs off her.

Applewood, Neokastron, Cordonia, Fall 2015

Riley walked down the hallway leading to her chambers. She was alone, as Bertrand and Maxwell were busy arranging their suitcases, and Charlotte said she would retire early.

Speaking of the Beaumonts, they said they would be spending their Christmas on a ski lodge in Switzerland. Given the price of the room and the fact the holiday was upon them, Bertrand made it clear she wasn’t invited. Charlotte said she could spend the week in Italy with her, but Riley knew how it was at her place, and she had her fill of aristocratic parties.

She reached her door and opened it. “Charlotte!” She called. “I’m here.”

The room was empty. Shrugging, Riley tried to lock the door, but the lock seemed stuck. As it was very late, the two women would have to make do with a chair against the handle.

Deciding to place it only after Charlotte’s return, Riley started taking off her clothing and her bodice. Butt-naked, she put on a silk robe and started walking over to the dresser to remove her make-up.

It was when she heard the door open and shut. “Is it you?” She called, distracted.

“It is I, love, and good Lord! Disrobing in my room! What a forward gesture. I like it.”

It wasn’t Charlotte’s voice. Riley turned to the intruder and shouted: “Tariq! What the Hell are you doing here?!”

“Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not upset. I’m just surprised. I suspected, but I’ve never thought it would happen so soon.” He said, approaching her.

She tried to cover herself better, while taking a step back. “Tariq, I think there’s something wrong here…”

He takes her hand and places over his heart. “No, I must say this! Your feelings are most ardently returned! You’ve enchanted me just as you enchant everybody you come across, and now I know you feel the same way about me.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “About that…”

Before she can say anything else, he lowers his head and take her mouth into a kiss.

Riley starts trying to push him away, when the door is pushed open and a figure launch itself into Tariq.

“Get away from her!” The deep voice commands, pining the middle-eastern man away from her by the shoulder.

“Unhand me!” Tariq spats back. “How dare you enter my room without my permission!”

“He’s one to say!” Riley sneered to herself, as Tariq punches the figure squarely on the face. Just then she is able to take a good look to the man, who reveals himself to be Drake.

The commoner reels back for a split second and then tackles the nobleman to the ground. They grapple intensely for a second until they pull apart.

“Who the Hell do you think you are busting into my room?!” Tariq shouts, angry.

“This is Riley’s room!” Drake spats back. “And I heard her screaming, I think she wanted the interruption.”

“Oh, God!” She ran her hand through her hair. “Tariq, someone pulled a prank on you. I’m not, in any way, interested in you, I’m sorry.”

He looked at her with puppy eyes. “So, this isn’t going to be the bold, romantic beginning to our love story?”

“No.” She doubled the ‘o’, shaking her head.

He sighed and tried to gather whatever little dignity he had. “I see. Let me deeply apologize here. I’m so sorry for this transgression. I was incredibly wrong. Now, before I can humiliate myself any further, let me take my leave. Good night, Lady Riley. Whomever has your heart, he is indeed a lucky man.”

As the man leaves, Drake slams the door shut behind him.

Riley threw herself on the bed, covering her face with her hands. “Before I bemoan my luck, thanks, Drake. If you hadn’t intervened, I would have kicked him in the nuts and it everything would be worse.”

“Aw, shucks, Flowers, don’t go soft on me now.” He sideline-smirked at her. “I’ll always be here for you. Because of Liam, of course.”

She sat up straight and looked at him. “What Liam got to do with anything?”

“Liam would never forgive me if something… bad… happened to you.” He sighed and withered under her inquisitive look. “And I wouldn’t forgive myself, either.”

She smirked, defiantly, at him, while he averts his eyes, embarrassed.

He clears his throat. “Anyways, you can see why it looked bad. I heard a scream and I saw you half-naked, with Tariq all over you…” He trailed off. “Are you okay, though.”

“I’m fine.” She said, earnestly.

“Well, I should get out of here before we really cause a scandal.” He said, and turned to leave when he winced in pain, clutching at his side.

“You’re hurt.” She pointed out.

He dismissed it with a: “Nothing some whiskey won’t heal.”

“Come on, big boy, I’ve got some ice.” She said, motioning for him to sit on the bed.

He smirked. “You trying to get me to take my shirt off, Flowers?”

“I am succeeding.” She smirked at him. “Chop-chop, I don’t have all night.”

“You have a real bossy side to you.” He murmurs while obeying her order.

“Take it to someone who cares.” She rolled her eyes, picked up a handkerchief and some ice, and started evaluating the bruise.

“So, doc, do you see anything alarming?” He asks, ironic.

“Other than the fact you bruise like a peach, it seems you’ll be okay.” She said, snarky.

He scoffed. “Tariq hits harder than you’d think.”

Riley laughed, ironically, while standing up. “I can’t believe you lost a fight to Tariq!”

“I didn’t say I lost! I never said that!” He defended, desperately. “I definitively won, I’m just saying he got in some good hits and I didn’t expect that from a palace brat.”

“Whatever floats your boat.” She smirked.

From Drake’s point of view, the moonlight coming from her window framed her profile. Her petite, princess-like nose and superior smirk were features he was sure he was supposed to despise, but it seemed right on her, like if it was supposed to be so.

Drake runs his fingers through his hair. “You can be so…” He started, but then lost his nerve. “Never mind. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be treating my wounds?”

“Before I ice your wounds, wouldn’t you like something to drink?” She offered. “Lest of all you bitch when I put it on your rib.”

“Hit me.”

She walked over to the bar and poured two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. Handing him one of them, she says: “I wouldn’t make you drink alone.”

“Heh. Thanks.” He smirks.

Drake downs his glass as Riley presses the ice against his body. “Hey! It hurts!” He complains.

“Grow a pair!” She bit back but pressed more gently the ice.

Drake turns and catches her eye. After a long second, he lowers his gaze. “Thanks.” He breathed out and paused. “I know I don’t act very grateful for anything most of the time, but I do… care about you.”

“Mighty way to show it.” She complains. “Most of the time you act like you hate me.”

“I do not.” He defended.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Drake.”

“Okay, I do, don’t I?” He sighed. “It’s not personal. It’s just… easier that way.”

“Easier? For whom?” She questions while keeping up with the ministrations.

“You’re here for Prince Liam. All of the suitors are. And, well, so is the entire court. All the nobles, all the servants, even. Everything and everyone in this place exists to orbit around Liam. You could almost hate him for it, if he weren’t so damn likeable. It’s dangerous for people like you and me to forget about that.” He grumbled the last part.

“Where are you getting at, Drake?”

“Hell, Flowers. Don’t make me say it.” He whispers and gulps down his drink. “If we’d met somewhere else, anywhere else. At a club in New York, or in the airport, or at a party… If you hadn’t been our waitress that night, and I hadn’t been sitting next to Liam… Do you think it would be different?”

“Drake, Drake, Drake.” A woman’s voice came from the door. The two of them broke apart, and faced the source of the sound, which was Charlotte’s frame. “Don’t you ever tire of being a whiny, charity case? Because I do, constantly.” She sneered.

“Fuck you, Rosenberg.” He barked at her.

“Drakey-poo is mad? How sad!” She ironized. “Let me answer this one for Little Miss Flowers over here. It wouldn’t be any different. You know why? Because you’ll always be the same, you’ll always look over your shoulder, worried that Liam will take your happiness away from you, that they will move on to greener pastures. And so, you make their lives a living Hell, so when they finally leave, you can act like if you had known all along.”

He lunged at her, and it seemed like he was going to hit her, but he lowered his hand and said on a dangerous tone: “You are just some left-over, bitter, society wife. Look yourself in the mirror before preaching about my life.”

With that, he left the bedroom.

Charlotte then shuts the door. Riley runs over to her. “God gracious, Charlotte! Where were you?”

“Constantine called me over to his study. He was trying to negotiate part of their debt.” She said, dismissive. “What is more interesting is why Walker was here in the first place.”

Riley then explained everything to Charlotte about what had happened that night. The blonde walks over to the door to check it. “Riley, I locked the door on my way out.”

“But it was open when I arrived!” She said, nervously.

“Check the trunk!” The blonde commanded.

It was still locked, with no signs of forced entry. “It seems our secret is safe, at least.”

Charlotte was fretful, still. “Regardless, there’s blood in the water. Come, we’re leaving now.”

The two girls packed everything on the room quickly, and on the silence of the night, they fled Applewood.

Atlanta, Georgia, Summer 2010

A middle-aged man climbed slowly the stairs. He was struggling with the steps, having been hindered with a crutch. Unfortunately for him, the building had no elevators and his destination was on the fifth floor.

It was a very important meeting, which is why he had come from so far away, and the delicacy of the matter had him prescinding of his assistant.

When he finally reached the floor, he stopped for a moment, to catch his breath and to dispel his flustering. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, as Georgia was much warmer than he had expected. Then, he continued his walk and knocked on an apartment door.

A woman answers. “Hello. How may I help you?”

He cleared his throat and asks: “Are you Melissa Walker?”

Her face paled. “Who are you?”

“I am Ludwig von Rosenberg.“ He said, solemn. “I wish to speak about your husband.”

Red Rose - Masterlist

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Taglist: @boneandfur; @mfackenthal

[icecoldparadise]

Vampirism and Immortality

My first attempt at angst/horror.  trigger warnings: casual, nongraphic mentions of self harm and attempted suicide. Please read at your own risk!!! I’m not offended if you skip based on these please take care of yourselves I love you. Thanks to Thelo for giving me the idea <3

When the Dragon Witch said she cursed two of the sides, nothing could have prepared them for this...

The sun was barely rising on the horizon, a thick fog still blanketing the earth in heavy slumber. Virgil stared out the window, wondering how things spiraled out of control so fast…

 It began one spring, a long time ago. The sides were all hanging out in the mind palace when an uncharacteristically cold wind blew from Roman’s room and chilled them to the bone. Roman jumped up, drawing his sword- but it was too late.  A deep green mist had swept all of them up and taken them away in a flash. When they woke they had found themselves in a dark cell with the Dragon Witch looming over them, a sinister smile stretched across her scaly face. “How nice of you to finally wake up,” she hissed, sending chills up their spines. “Wh-what do you want, foul beast?!” Roman shouted in an attempt to be brave, rushing forward only to find himself shackled to a wall. A deep, rumbling laugh bellowed from the witch. “I already got what I wanted. I have planted the seeds to entropy within two of you...” She leaned in close to the prince, sneering. “Good luck figuring out who! In fact, good luck getting out of here.” The Dragon Witch cackled before turning on her heel and leaving them, slamming the iron bar door shut with an emphatic BAM! The four looked at each other bewildered. “Logan? What are our options, kiddo?” Patton tried to appear calm, but the others could see the well-hidden fear behind his spectacles. Logan analyzed their surroundings, his mind racing with possible solutions almost as quickly as he could shoot them down. Then it dawned on him. “Roman! This is your realm, yes?” The prince nodded. “Make a key to our shackles and to the bars.” The fanciful side perked up. “OF COURSE! Really, I can be SUCH a fool sometimes.” A key materialized in his hand; after some painful maneuvering he managed to unlock his shackles before running to free the others. Everyone rubbed their wrists as he worked on getting them out of the cell. Once it was unlocked they hurried out of the Witch’s lair, not knowing she was watching them with a wicked smile. “Yesss, my precious foes, run.” She chuckled. “Run to your certain demise.”

A few weeks passed by with no apparent results, so the men began to relax, thinking the whole thing may have been a hoax to scare them. They could not be more wrong.

It was small at first. Patton developed quite the appetite, to the point where he was constantly gorging himself but still complaining about being hungry. Despite this, he managed to lose weight. It reached the point where Logan, alarmed by his friend’s condition, locked himself in his room to research possible causes of this unknown affliction. It had been a few days since he had started his obsessive research and it was Patton’s turn to check in on him and make sure he had plenty of food. He came in with a plate full of Logan’s favorite foods, he himself munching on a cookie. “Lo, it’s time for a food break.” Logan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his usually well-kept hair a mess. “Thank you, Patton.” The logical side acknowledged, taking the plate and starting to chew on a sandwich half while returning to his research. Patton peered over his head, disappointed the cookie was already gone and still feeling completely unsatisfied. “Have you found anything?” Logan half sighed, half growled. “No. It’s baffling, there’s absolutely nothing out there that aligns with your condition. I tried looking up…” His voice drowned out as Patton noticed Logan’s neck, glowing light blue from the light of the screen. For some reason, one he couldn’t begin to grasp, Patton wanted to bite it. Not just a little, oh no. He was fixated on the smooth segment of skin like a dog eyeing a fresh slab of steak. Logan’s Adam’s apple moved ever so slightly as he prattled on, only making Patton want to bite him even more. His eyes glazed over as he stood up straight, alerting Logan to his unusual state of being. “Patton?” He inquired, turning to face the fatherly side and quickly found himself screaming as Patton lunged and bit into his neck, fangs piercing his jugular and draining the logic side of every ounce of blood he possibly could. When he had finished Logan collapsed lifeless to the floor, and Patton snapped back to reality. He stared at Logan in horrified confusion, incapable of processing the sight in front of him. “What’s going on? We heard scream---” Virgil froze when he saw the scene in front of him: Logan’s dead, pale body lying on the floor with bite marks on his neck, Patton looming over him with blood dripping from his mouth and a mottled mask of terrified confusion plastered on his face. “P-p-patt-on, what did…” Roman burst in, nearly knocking Roman down. “Did you prank Logan with sharks again?” He too froze at the sight. Understanding finally crossed the distraught father’s face. “Guys? I’m… I’m not hungry anymore.” He whispered, despair lowering the usually peppy voice. He slowly licked the blood off his lips, involuntarily shuddering in pleasure at the taste of Logan’s blood. Roman paled, understanding what he was getting at. “You’re… You’re a vampire.” Patton nodded, eyes widening as his stomach growled suddenly. Virgil clicked it all together. “You’re not just a vampire, Patton. You’re a starving vampire.” Patton grimaced, as if in extreme pain. “Guys…” They stared at him in anticipation. When he opened his eyes again they were glazing over and his teeth were turning into fangs again. “Run.” He whispered before his eyes completely glazed over.

They ran.

--

It had been two weeks since Logan had died. Virgil and Roman hid in the anxious side’s room, allowing Patton to go to the creative side’s room to find animals to devour in hopes that he wouldn’t devour them next. Meanwhile Patton desperately tried to find a cure in between meals, but as research was never his forte he couldn’t find anything. Desperate to save his friends from what he had become, his hopes turned to the one thing he knew a bit about: killing vampires. He tried everything, every possible way to kill his vampiric self, but the Dragon Witch’s curse had already accounted for this and made him constantly regenerate. This regeneration made him unbelievably hungry, so he finally had to accept that he would forever be a monster. He vowed to stay in the magical forest and feed on animals for the rest of eternity, even though their blood wasn’t nearly as satisfying as Logan’s had been. He got full off animal blood, but a dark twisted part of him craved more human blood. The father figure curled up into a ball and cried himself to sleep every night, missing his friends and hating himself for killing one of them- and guilty for still wanting more.

The two remaining sides slowly ventured out into the mindscape for food, realizing that Patton had not returned from the magic forest. They ate whatever food wasn’t spoiled, starving themselves from having to hide for their lives. As they were eating Roman got an idea. “Virge, what if we try and destroy the Dragon Witch? We might be able to reverse Patton’s curse so he can come home…” The anxious side sat in silence, his slowed chewing the only sign he had registered what the other side suggested. “A lot could go wrong with that, Ro. He could find us when he’s hungry, or she could do something even worse to one of us.” Roman’s head dropped. “I know,” he said quietly, “but it’s all we’ve got. We don’t…” His voice caught, and Virgil’s eyes smarted as he understood. ‘We don’t have Logan to research anything else. I know neither of us are good at it either. It would only waste more time.” Silence blanketed the room. Finally, a soft timid voice said, “Okay.”

They stood at the door leading to Roman’s magical land, the forest stretching in front of him. “You ready? We’re gonna have to run through without stopping.” Roman looked at his dark friend anxiously. Virgil nodded. “Let’s get this over with and get our friend back.” The two sides took off running, fear evident in every footfall. Branches whipped and scratched their faces, roots tripped them, but still they ran and ran and ran. Unfortunately, one scratch began to bleed.

Patton smelled it.

The end of the forest was in sight when Virgil heard Roman scream from behind him. He stumbled to a halt and turned around just in time to see Patton latch on to the creative side’s neck and began feasting, blood draining out of the prince at an ungodly rate. He froze in terror, mentally screaming at himself to JUST MOVE FOR FUCK’S SAKE ROMAN’S DYING but he just couldn’t. When he finally was able to move it was too late. Roman lay lifeless, Patton licking any remnant blood as if it were precious. His shoulders visibly slumped when he realized what had happened, and a cry escaped his lips that would break even the coldest heart. “NOOOO! NOT AGAIN!” The father side broke down into hysteric tears. Virgil found himself holding Patton before he could stop himself, simultaneously terrified and wanting to comfort his afflicted best friend. Sobbing, Patton buried into Virgil’s chest. “V-virge I’m a m-m-monster! I can’t even-even kill myself and m-m-m-ake it stop! I tried! I T-TRIED FOR YOU ALL AND-AND NOW R-R-ROMAN’S DEAD!” The dark man rubbed soothing circles into the vampire’s back, heart shattered from everything. “It’s- it’s not your f-fault, Patton.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, but it seemed to soothe the broken man in his arms. Wiping his nose on his dirty cardigan Patton sat up, still hiccupping slightly. “Virgil, please… Run. I don’t… I at least want my dark, strange son to be okay… Leave me, before it’s too late.” Virgil’s eyes widened. “But, you’ll be alone!” Patton’s face darkened. “I’ll be alone either way.” He spat bitterly. He looked up at his best friend, eyes dark and hopeless. “Now run. RUN.” So Virgil ran, the pieces of his shattered heart blowing away with every step he took.

Virgil hid in a cave on a mountainside far away from anyone and anything, watching the days go by. They all melted together, each season muddling into the next. He made it until winter before he decided he couldn’t live like this anymore: in fact, he couldn’t live at all. Tears streaming down his face, he found a jagged rock and, after a brief hesistation, sliced his wrist deeply. The wound briefly bled before sealing up as if by magic. Dread plummeted his stomach. He tried again. And again. He tried to hang himself, jump off the mountain side to his death, poisoning himself… Nothing worked. Everything hurt immensely (and he was violently ill from the poison) but he would always regenerate. At first, this filled him with complete despair. How could he join his friends in the afterlife if he couldn’t die? A sick realization came over him as he remembered the Dragon Witch’s words. ‘I have planted the seeds to entropy within two of you... Good luck figuring out who!’ The words escaped him before he could stop himself. “I’m… I’m immortal.” His voice was hollow and defeated. The dark side brooded over why he was made immortal, why she wanted two alive… The answer made him violently ill. “I’m Patton’s eternal food source.” The anxious side felt numb, and didn’t regain feeling until he had finally trudged back to the part of the forest he knew Patton frequented- the bones and carcasses of animals gave it away.

He found Patton in a tight ball, his clothes stained with blood and dirt. “P-pat?” he asked timidly, the side in question’s head shooting up. “Virgil?” He gasped incredulously, then, “You need to leave. Now. It’s almost time.” Virgil gulped and took a deep breath. “Patton, I… I’m okay. The Dragon Witch.. She made me immortal.” Confusion crossed the fatherly side’s face. “What? Why? How do you know?” Virgil glanced down, shame filling his being. “I… tried to end it, too. She made me immortal to be your… Your…” Patton’s eyes widened in horror. “No! Are you… are you sure?” The anxious one nodded glumly. Patton’s eyes shot to Virgil’s neck quickly, licking his lips hungrily. “I.. I don’t know about this kiddo…” Virgil saw his eyes starting to get the familiar haze and braced himself for what he was sure would be an excruciating experience. Shaking, he tilted his head and exposed his neck to the vampire. The vampirism took hold and Patton bit into his flesh. Virgil screamed in agony as he felt not only his skin and veins get pierced, but he felt his blood draining out of his body. He felt light headed, but the blood never ran out. When Patton was full he stepped back incredulously, licking his lips as he did after every meal. “It’s true…” he whispered. Virgil was completely overwhelmed by the horrific experience. His neck throbbed and his head was spinning, yet still he took off running as fight-or-flight took hold.

 The sun broke through the mist, the fog began clearing and the sky was a deceptively hopeful blue. Virgil sighed. The myth about vampires burning in the sunlight wasn’t true. He and Patton had excellent adventures with each other the past five hundred years, most of which were in the daylight. A quiet knock put the anxious side on edge, a familiar feeling of dread filling his entire being. “Kiddo? You awake?” Patton’s soft voice called, a lingering hunger dancing between the words. Virgil braced himself for what was about to come. “Yeah, Pat. Come on in.”

@storytellerofuntoldlegends

@justanotherpurplebutterfly

@ssides @thelogicalloganipus @pirate-patton @thatsthat24 @tinysidestrashcaptain @sidewritings @i-love-word-association-games @fandomsandanythingelse

[unfortunatephantasm]

I’ve decided to try and use this blog, just to practice doing things like this. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually garner a following. For now, I’ll leave you all with a short silly thing I wrote some time ago, that I hope none of real life friends will ever find and associate with me.

He awoke again. Dark dirty cobblestones were all he could see. Somewhere, he could hear the dripping of water. A slow drip. "Drip... Drip... Drip.." Endless. Whatever. He knew this place. He knew what he had to do. He had been doing it for months now. Again and again and again. Living, dying and resurrection, to do it all again. He had died once, before all this, and that was what had taken him here. It had been an ordinary life, without pain, without conflict. It had been easy, and truly a blessing, even if he hadn't realised at the time. He had been walking to school. A short walk, fifteen minutes by foot at a slow pace, ten at a fast one, and five at a run. He had been walking. Unlike other days, his hearing and sixth sense had failed him, and so, as he had crossed the road, some loony in a 4x4 had run him over. Instant death. And then he woke up. With the same view as the one, he had right now. Except, the first time, there had been someone to greet him. A young lady, in a tight business top, and miniskirt with stockings. She also had glasses, although her hair was not in a bun. She told him what had happened, then proceeded to tell him why he was here. He was a dungeon crawler. One of the many who had died, and was tasked with the job of reaching the top. They were deep underground, and if they ever wanted to see the civilisation of sorts again, they had to make their way through the hordes of monsters, forgotten magic and other unsavoury crawlers. She had offered him three objects to choose from. "Relics", she had called them. The first, a fire ruby. It would greatly increase his regenerative powers, as long as he put his mind and body through highly stimulating experiences. Like combat. The second, a jade snake bracelet. It would silence his footsteps, and muddle the senses of others around him. The perfect assassins tool. The third, a sapphire orb. It would grant him the ability to read the emotions and intentions of those around him, living or dead, visible or invisible.  It would also greatly increase his mental fortitude and aptitude for magic. He had agonised over it for a long time. But he was still new then, and naive. He did not realise the hardships he would face. But it was too late for regrets. He had made his choice, back then, and he could never take it back. He had reached out and taken the ruby. He barely remembered his reasoning for doing so. But he remembered what it had felt like when he chose it. Burning flames had ignited all over his body, and the ruby had been lit with a brilliant scarlet light. It had floated up then forced its way into his chest, like a dagger plunging into him, setting him ablaze from the inside. And that had been his introduction to this world.

He made his first climb that day, with no protection other than the clothes on his back, and no means of attack other than his hands. Needless to say, it had not gone well; he had been killed and eaten by some creature almost as soon as he went up to the stairs.

The pain had been almost unbearable, and he had dreaded to think it would happen again. But every time, he got up and continued his march upwards. Slowly, ever so slowly, he had grown stronger, learned what lay between him and his goal. He found armour, and weapons, which stayed with him, even when he had died.

But now... He was sick of it. The endless march. No rest. No relaxing. He had to climb. If he died? He was sent back to do it all again.

Why did he have to do this? "Why do I have to do this?"

What? That wasn't him surely? His time in this place had done many things to him, but it had not changed his voice to that of a teenage girl, had it?

"First I'm told I'm dead, and the only way to escape this place is to fight my way out, and now a dead guy suddenly appears..."

Nope, that wasn't him. Looking around, he quickly saw the source of the voice. Surprise surprise, a teenage girl.

Her cheeks were stained with tears, and she was huddled in a corner in what seemed to be... fright? Why? It's not as if there we- Ah. She had thought he was dead, hadn't she? A bit shocking to see the body move suddenly then, wouldn't it?

Well, he didn't want to scare off a potential ally, but the way this girl was acting, it appears he was very scary indeed.

What should he do? When you meet someone for the first time, what is it you're supposed to do? Oh. That was it. --- All of a sudden, the masked figure leapt up. What had been a small and sad corpse had suddenly sprung to life. Tall and menacing, a soft glow emanates from behind the golden mask. And then the man began walking towards me. Long, fast strides. The room was by no means small, it was in fact amazingly large, for such a pointless room. But he crossed it easily and quickly as if he had somewhere to be.

One gloved hand rested on his sword, the other swung in time with his steps.

He was wearing a metal mask it seemed, made from gold it seemed, and his body was clad in a mismatched mix of leather, cloth and metal. Stains and scratches decorated him wherever possible, almost like ceremonial carvings. But perhaps what was most striking about him was the stench of sulphur that clung to him.

He's stopped right in front of me, staring silently. Then, suddenly he's moving. Even though I had promised myself I wouldn't show this stranger how scared I was, I flinched.

But all he had done was put out his hand. Why? What did he want me to do? Did he want me to take his hand? Does he want to help me? What if he doesn't, he's just trying to gain my trust so that he trick me easily later on?

Well, really... What choice did I have? He was offering me a way out, or at least a helping hand in all this mess.

I reached out and took his hand. --- What do I do? I realised my mistake as I stood in front of her. What sort of person would accept the help of a random stranger? Especially one as suspicious-looking as him? Plus, if this girl's introduction was as traumatic as mine was, then she probably wasn't in any state to do anything for the moment.

Woah. I didn't mean to pull her up. Didn't think she'd take my hand in the first place. So that was that then. She's looking at me like she expects something, I have no idea what to do now.

I suppose we should start her first run? There isn't anything in this room. I spent a lot of time searching for this place, in an earlier run.

Well, before that, I suppose we should get her some gear. Jeans and a sweater aren't going to cut it for armour, not against monsters the size of tigers with mouths large enough to swallow beach balls.

***

After pulling me up, the stranger looks at me weirdly. As if he's judging me. What? Don't you like my clothes?

He starts walking away suddenly and I go to follow him. We walk through the only exit visible; A large archway, made from the same dirty orange bricks that the rest of this place is made from. there are torches lining the walls, but they are not lit. The hall we walk down is dark, and the only light comes from the man's burning eyes.

We walk in silence, the only sound is our footsteps and the soft sound of dripping water.

"What did you choose?"

A terrible sound fills my ears, like a tiger's growl mixed with a smoker's cough. A rough, dry snarl, that if you heard it, you would almost say it wasn't human speech. Almost.

"Pardon?" Is that all I can manage? A little squeak? God, I'm so pathetic. What can I do? He's probably regretting even letting me follow him.

"Your relic. What did you pick?"

My relic? I don't remember any relic... Unless he means the... --- I hear a thump behind me, and leaping into a battle stance, I am instead met with the girl lying on the floor again, muttering darkly. What do I do?

and that’s where it ends. It was partly inspired by a game I played a lot for a while.

[andieforrester]

dead rabbit hopes - self para

maybe my beauty was only meant to be seen by the men a crow beside me, scavenger king, my body: a savaged thing.

She doesn’t check the mirror much– nothing good ever comes to greet her. It just makes the pain worse, more tangible. Dark purple on her neck, her cheek, her jaw reminds her of a closed fist because she talked back. Crusty dried blood on her lips and wrists reminds her of the time in solitude: darkness, cold, a sense of being lost. Chewing on her lips, eyes dripping salt into the new layers of flesh. But the undamaged parts seem the hardest to look at. Her chest is small, bony because when she does have food in front of her, it doesn’t want to go down her throat. But He still finds something there to touch. ( While she stares at the ceiling and begs for some way out. ) Her hips are sharp, too, no Kim Kardashian butt, almost-stick legs. None of that keeps Him away. When she looks at the unbattered places, she wishes they were just as ugly as everything else, in a way. Maybe if He just hit her, all over, everywhere, it’d be enough to keep Him from doing something worse. She doesn’t know why IT’s worse. IT hurts, but not like when his knuckles on her cheek almost send her to the floor and leave the room spinning. But IT’s worse. She drifts up to the ceiling with Marie and Harriet and Joan when IT’s happening. She tries not to watch, listen, know. She just leaves, takes a break from being alive. Maybe that should make IT easier, but it doesn’t. So when she sees all of it, on her body, in the mirror, she frowns. If her body was really hers, there would be no purple. Or red-brown crust. Everything would be soft tan and rosy, glowing, and her teeth would always show because her lips would not be ripped and she would smile. All day. And she would be able to look at the other parts and like them. And maybe touch them ( she’s not that oblivious, she knows people do that. ) Now, they are tainted. His being has somehow attached to them permanently and looking at them reminds her that she lives in a house with fists and a basement and a bed that is unspeakably difficult to sleep in.

maybe my beauty was only meant to be seen on death’s bed a crow beside me, scavenger king, my body: ravishing. 

There is a sudden and profound sense of loss when it finally hits her, sitting by the window when a man passes and she tries out an introduction under her breath ( hi, I’m Alexandra, ) –no you’re not: Alexandra is dead. Whoever lives in this body now is not her. Alexandra died when He took too much: December 6, 2013. She’s angry, too. Tired. Tired of hiding, submitting, staying silent and defeated and chronically uncertain. ( Will He come back before she dies? Does she even want to live? Is it over? Is she ready for it to be over? ) She’s not ready. It’s her life, and she wants it back and she wants to try, maybe she can– her voice is raising, cuss words escape, she is fighting!– silenced by the basement door slamming. Quick, easy solution. She isn’t cuffed, but He knows she’ll stay down there, and she knows it, too, and it makes her want to destroy everything in this house, including herself. There are so many memories, sharp edges that cut into her consciousness. Failed escapes, horrific consequences for minor crimes ( like looking at the phone while it was ringing, ) the bed, lying in the basement and walking in and out of a body whose organs were slowly failing, asking for advice from dead people, always taking it. She stares at the spot where the old cuffs wait. — She remembers standing over herself there. Usually, she could only leave when IT was happening, but this was different. There was a sense of urgency, like she’d been allowed to leave in order to accomplish something. She remembers watching fluttering eyelashes, dry lips, nothing else moving but her fingers. They clenched into fists sometimes, like she was trying to hold on, but then relaxed, as if letting go. Marie? – A pink dress appeared. Yes? – I’m dying, right? – Yes. – Joan? – Chain maille. Yes? – Should I just crawl back in and go to sleep? – Are you ready? She knew she wasn’t then, and knelt down. Alexandra, she pleaded. Wake up and make Him help you. Alexandra didn’t move. Alexandra. Alexandra! She screamed at her for an hour, it seemed, then dug her nails into her raw wrists. A half-hearted moan answered. She dug harder, kicked her, shook her, held her eyelids open and begged. Finally, a hoarse cry. And He brought water. And she lived. A few days later, He let her come back upstairs. — She knew then, and she knows now. It’s not time, and she’s not giving up. The next morning, she fights better. Less yelling, more action. No time for fear or caution. A knife slips into her hand and He loses His advantage, and she’s shocked by how quickly the power shifts after twelve years of the same roles, over and over. She puts the knife down and He starts to rebuild– NO! She grabs the cutting board and swings. And when she stops, looks around, sees Him at her feet, she realizes she’s won. When she stands in front of the mirror at the hotel in Dallas, she notices a change. The bruises are barely there, light green. No crusty red. She’s still small, but there’s significantly less hollowness, and not just because she’s eating. She gets closer, looks at what she always kept her eyes away from before. A breast, she can say it, see it, even touch it, maybe, some day. It’s small, but not so ugly now. Round, holds itself up against gravity, somehow. She turns, looks at her butt, too. It’s not bad, either. Not all on its own. She puts on her pajamas and turns off the light. 

i’m ready to confess i’m hungry for you.

If every person on Earth has an opposite, Sam is His. Everything He made her feel, Sam seems to turn inside out, upside down, and she destroys the evidence of its existence ( momentarily. ) Still, she isn’t quite expecting everything that starts to happen. First, there’s the feeling of a crush, an innocent early stage of love. One she never got to before He interrupted everything. She blushes a lot and wants to be around her almost constantly, even though sometimes she gets nervous when she talks. Then it’s more, like a date to homecoming or prom. Someone she’s comfortable with, laughs with, but can open up to. Someone she’s starting to trust. Which is hard, and slow. There are a billion checkpoints for things like trust. A billion pauses to ensure she deserves such a high honor. And she wants to kiss her. Even when it doesn’t even fit into the situation, like, even when they’re in the middle of a conversation, some weird mouth magnet starts pulling her close to Sam’s mouth magnet and she has to tell it to stop– this is not the time. It’s weird. And one night she wakes up from a dream and there’s a weird aching feeling, but not a bad ache like in her bed in The House. It’s deep and internal and she tries to remember her dream, but all she sees is a wisp. Of Sam. Then it transforms again. Stronger, deeper. She thinks maybe this is how it feels to be in love. Like her heart pulls a little when she sees her, tries to jump out and join Sam’s and beat there inside her chest, the two of them together. She thinks she’s the most beautiful person the world has ever known, and the smartest and funniest and kindest and best. She’s the best. She wants to hold her hand all day. And everything else gets stronger, too. She starts to remember dreams, kisses that move away from lips, hands and bedsheets and– things. Things she didn’t know she could feel. And when Sam is kissing her, the ground disappears and she floats and they’re suspended in the air, no gravity, and nothing hurts then. Sam’s eyes look at her differently than she ever looked at herself. The opposite of how He looked at her. Like she’s the most exquisite work of art in a gallery, the brightest star in the sky, the goddess Aphrodite, Venus. Like she commands all the love and beauty in the universe. And it melts into her. And when she looks in the mirror, everything is new and reborn. Pure, almost, maybe. No bruises. Old scars, ignored by Sam’s eyes because they don’t change her vision. And she smiles because she’s tan. Rosy. Glowing. Teeth showing. Her body is muscle now, not bone. Her breasts are not vulnerable and timid, they are lovely. Her butt is still not Kim Kardashian’s, but it is made of donuts and pasta and pizza and running through the park at dawn and it is beautiful. And her insides are not all smashed up and destroyed and hurting, they are clean and well-loved and protected. And she even holds a hand up, cups it over a breast, holds it, faintly feels her heartbeat. And it’s okay. It is her own damn boob and she is allowed to touch it, and think it’s pretty, and value it equally with everything else. It is not tainted or dirty or bad, and neither is she. Sam says she’s brave, not a scared, submissive bitch. And she’s smart, not a dumb cunt. And she really thinks this is how love feels. And Sam’s hands, unlike His, heal a wound with every touch.

[ao3-writer]

Tyler joins the army and writes letters to his lover Ethan every week. Ethan never gets the letters so he thinks Tyler is no longer alive. Ethan starts sleeping around to numb the pain, until one day Tyler comes home and Ethan feels so guilty. How can he tell Tyler? 😫 fic plz?

 It was merely just a kiss.

 That’s how it always began. Merely a little kiss. Then it turned into multiple kisses. And maybe a few make-out sessions outside the bar or in the alley right next to the club.

 Then Ethan started getting riskier. He blew a guy in the bathroom stall. Gave a couple of handjobs smack in the middle of the dancing crowd. Hell, he even got a few blowjobs himself.

 Tyler had written three letters and then they stopped. That was three months ago. And day by day, Ethan lost a little more of his sanity and purity. He drank for the first time. He smoked some weed once and once became twice until Amy found out and took it away. Kathryn dumped out all the liquor bottles. Both women came by frequently to check up on Ethan. But he remained in the same four spots each time they came. The bedroom. The living room. The Kitchen. Or on the Bathroom floor. 

 To be fair, they were the ones that insisted he went out and had some fun instead of moping around. Easier for Kathryn to say than Amy. Mark and Tyler had reluctantly agreed to join the occasion of going to war. Ethan held back, much to their distaste. Mark sent letters to Amy extremely often and he was far from any danger. Tyler, however, wasn’t as lucky. He was called up to be on the front lines. And boy was Ethan anxious.

 Most of Mark’s letters had something about Tyler in them before he left. Then three letters came from Tyler and that was it. Three letters. Three months ago.

 And on this unfortunate night, this ungodly night where Ethan knew deep down he’d regret it but carried on anyway because he couldn’t find any other way to cope: he lost his virginity.

 He lost his virginity to some stranger. Was he safe? Did he have AIDS? Ethan wouldn’t know. All he knew was that after the heated words and the unimaginable sensations that he felt was the guilty. The guilt that he gave himself up faster than a hooker would. It took a wink and two drinks to get Ethan following some sexy, brooding man to his apartment and to melt into his arms for passionate, sloppy sex.

 And oh… did Ethan feel dirty. 

————————————————————-

  “Morning,” Amy said, chipper as ever as she poured herself a cup of coffee. Ethan cast his eyes onto the floor in shame as he mumbled and walked past her. Even with Mark in the middle of nowhere East Asia, he still managed to make a few videos when he wasn’t busy. They only had to come to the office three times a week to see what he sent them and they’d finish their work in no time.

  “Morning, Ethan. Where’d you run off to last night? I was waiting to see if we could watch a movie but you never showed up,” Kathryn said, looking at Ethan with a slight frown.

  “I-i.. I was at a party and I crashed at some guy’s place.” You mean the man who you gave your virginity away to? Do you even remember his name? Of course not, all you remember are his rough hands raking through your hair and trailing down your hips to hold onto you as he–

 Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his hand touching his hip where he knew he had a bruise. A big one too. And three hickies on his chest. Another set on each of his thighs. A bruise on his leg too.

  “Oh, well you kinda scared me there. Let us know next time, okay? We don’t want you doing anything stupid, right?” Amy said with a chuckle. Ethan gave a weak chuckle and at that Kathryn knew something was off. 

 They said nothing and they checked one of the computers, clicking through Amy’s emails to see if anything showed up from Mark. One video. Kathryn volunteered to work on it since Ethan did the other day’s video. Amy and Ethan lounged around, Chica rolling around in the rug ridiculously as they waited. 

 When she finished, they all agreed to hang out at the park and play with Chica for a bit. Parking was a hassle, but they got it done. Upon arriving there, Amy tossed Chica’s toy and she followed after her.

  “Where were you really?” Kathryn asked, “last night, I mean.”

  “I said at some guy’s house. The one who.. who threw the party,” Ethan replied, trying to hide how unsteady his response was.

  “Okay,” Kathryn replied. She knew Ethan was lying. And Ethan knew that she knew that he was lying. Neither pressed on the subject. They moved on.

—————————————————————–

 Ethan was editing one of his own videos at the moment he heard the doorbell. He stood up, wearing nothing but a loose tank top and some shorts when he made his way to the door. Probably Amy, forgot her key here or something. 

 But when he opened the door he saw a man in a very formal uniform, a deep olive green with a medal embedded on his chest. A cap on top of what would be dark brown curly hair. His eyes as blue as ever and a smirk that made Ethan’s heart thump.

  “I’m sorry, is this the residence of Ethan Nestor?” Tyler joked as he smiled, seeing Ethan’s eyes widen and his smile fill his face.

  “OH my god. Is it you. Is this really you?!” Ethan asked, running a hand down Tyler’s uniform. He laughed.

  “Yes, it’s me Ethan. I’m home.”

 Ethan runs into Tyler, wrapping his legs and arms around Tyler as he hugged him tightly. Tyler, unexpectedly holds onto him and holds in just as tight. Ethan breathes in the smell of Tyler and the fresh new uniform. The smell has Ethan lost in his thoughts and it feels like his whole world has stopped.

 And then the guilt crashes down on him. He unwraps himself from Tyler. Tyler leans down and captures him in a kiss. Slow at first, then passionate. They move into Ethan’s apartment where it became more passionate. Tyler had him against the wall and his hands started to roam down Ethan’s body. And they landed on his hips. One hand directly over where his bruise was. And then Tyler stopped.

  “What happened?” Tyler asked, looking down at Ethan. Ethan was confused before realizing his tank top had shrugged to the side slightly and two of the hickies were visible. They were mostly faded, but still visible.

  “I-uh- fell.”

Dumbass

  “You fell,” Tyler repeated plainly. He looked down and analyzed the marks. He looked up at Ethan with concern and he was nervous and sweating.

  “Yeah, I fell w-while playing with Chica,” Ethan said, closing his eyes. JEsus christ he was bad at lying when it came to Tyler.

 Tyler looked at Ethan, his smirk and his smile erased as he stared down at the red bruises.

  “T-tyler–”

  “Are you lying to me?” he asked, looking at Ethan eye-to-eye now.

 And then Ethan snapped. He broke down and began to cry. He slid away from Tyler and crumpled to the floor as he cried. He held his head in his hands as he let the tears flow down his face and the sobs ring in their ears. Tyler crouched down as Ethan cried, face red and scrunched up as he felt his walls break down. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t.

  “I’m so sorry. I-i-i was just so convinced that you died and I was- was so sad and lonely. And I didn’t mean to but he was just–”

  “Ethan…”

  “– I gave it away, Tyler. I gave myself L-li-like , like some whore!”

Tyler sighed, he knew that’s what it must have been.

  “I don’t blame you, Ethan,” Tyler whispers as he pulled Ethan close as he shook through his sobs.

  “I cheated on you and it wasn’t even fair.”

  “I know, Ethan. I know. I forgive you.”

 After a couple seconds for Ethan’s sobs to get under control, they finally sat there in silence.

  “I understand and I don’t blame you..” Tyler whispered, stroking Ethan’s head.

 Ethan shook his head.

  “I love you, no matter what. It didn’t have to be me you lost your virginity to, Ethan.  It’s fine. Hell, if I thought you were dead I might have done the same because I wouldn’t know how to cope. But I love you for you Ethan. It didn’t make you somebody else. Going to the lines didn’t make me somebody else. Thank God.”

  “You don’t… you don’t have any… of that.. PTSD?” Ethan asked, half whispered.

  “I was just a rookie, they said. All I’d do is sit tight in case they needed any backup. I was safe the entire time. But I couldn’t get you any letters. I’m so sorry you had to wait that long in silence, baby, i’m sorry…” Tyler whispered, hugging Ethan closer to his chest.

 They sat there in respectable silence. All they were glad for is to have each other in their arms again. Safe. 

[kaiba-fangirl]

...there’s so much I could try to say, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain, that YES, hating someone while still wanting, and working so hard to get their approval - acceptance - love - acknowledgement is... very... normal? well maybe not “normal,” but, that is what happens in those situations... 

For me, “the old lady” I refer to, who you can read all about on my main blog, is not Gothel, but a way for me to refer to my dad’s mom without continually saying “dad’s mom,” to STILL give him the chance to separate himself from her, and because I have not sincerely referred to her as a “grandmother” since I was about 16. She was a third parent in the house since before I was born, til she finally died in 2010 when I was 22, but she ALWAYS- always, always, always, said that we were not her family. Probably the least of her transgressions. She messed us all up. When my dad was 17, he started a small, roadside, seasonal business. Wreaths and grave blankets. Now, as the area has grown and been built up, but other stands have closed down, our business is growing faster than we can keep up with. I started really working days out there when I was 12. But I hated it with a passion. Every year I wanted to hear that we were going to close for good. My feet were always numb from the cold, my shoes soaked through, my hands cut up and frozen, nails broken, just bitterly, freezing, fucking cold. In highschool, the weight room helped a little bit, but I’m still a girl and didn’t get any natural boost in muscles from puberty, unlike my brother. My back and shoulders have always been perpetually stiff and tight, muscles so sore and exhausted. Our work days have grown to 18 hours, and that’s with summer prep. With sinus infections because my sister is too ‘cool’ for a coat and then spreads her germs. And that’s just the manual labor. The constant screaming and yelling, and crying on our parts, let up a little in 2010 when she died. The next year it was right back, and actually worse. With my dad and her going at it, we knew what to expect. Now, there’s no scapegoat, no reliable malicious instigator. It’s just him versus us. For any reason. And, I’ve noticed myself turning into horrible middle management, snapping and screaming at my mom and siblings that *I* need things done, because if my impossible task list is not done, then *I* will be the one to hear it from *him*. And I hate seeing that come out of me. Good old “Blood, Sweat, and Tears.” So many tears, so much sweat, surprising amount of pain... At least we’re only open at Christmastime, right? But around, maybe 2006? I think I had already started college. My dad FINALLY, since I had given up on trying to convince him, decided to start using more different materials, nicer materials like velvet ribbon and silk flowers, instead of just plastic everything. Those new “fancy” designs (as per the materials’ Chinese names) have been growing steadily by 33% each year since then. I finally liked the designs I had to make, and felt like I had been listened to, even if I didn’t get credit. It was stuff I had pointed out a couple years earlier at our suppliers’ stores, but was always shot down. This also became my department. For the longest time, *only* I could make these designs, and made them with more precision and finesse than he could. I genuinely wanted to see these WOW people, and took pride in how each year, we did better than the last. I actually wanted to succeed. My brother and I began our off-the-cuff commenting dreams of having a permanent store someday, and how we would expand the place bit by bit. I also discovered Under Armour, Hot Hands, and made my mom invest in good boots for us all. Dec 22, 2011, I thought my dad was literally going to kill me. It had been an all-day screaming match, the likes of which I had never participated in nor seen. He found out, as we were opening, that I had plans to fix a friend’s laptop for $50, since it promised to be a slow day and we had more people working than we really needed. Still, I would do it out in the trailer and just supervise, or stop and make something if I was needed. He also thought I was late getting out to open, which was actually not true but he kept accusing me of lying all day. He flipped out, forbade me and my fiance from working, and forced me to sit with him at my desk, beside his desk, all day, while I fixed that laptop, and he screamed at me and called me names. And I screamed back, but refused to truly retaliate; I just wanted him to stop. The day ended with me in the trailer, in a ball on the dirty wood floor, trying to disappear, crawling into a pile of wreaths with my head brushing cobwebs from under a table, while he leaned over me, closer and closer, screaming at the top of his lungs and spraying spit in my face. I finally gave up, tried to bargain that if I said I was lying, would he stop? He refused. My fiance ran up, and froze, realizing that he was about to throw him down the steps, but that that would only make things worse for me. Luckily, my dad saw the look in his eye and left.  His excuse, when I found him asleep in his desk chair at 9:15am the next day? (We open at 9am.) He was sleepy, overtired. That’s why he lost it the day before. ...I haven’t fixed a computer for money since... ...things haven’t been the same for me since... I’m more scared of him than ever. I hate him more than ever. I wish I could get him out of my life, but he’s so enmeshed in everything. -- I also try harder than ever. I’ve been more focused on the business, taking on more responsibility, staking my pride in it and growing my confidence when I’m out there, talking to customers like I’m in charge, because I am-- out there. Just not overall. It’s... because I have tried so hard to make this business succeed, with my own ideas, and my whole body -- I see the numbers go up, I see customers rave and be so appreciative and thankful, I see family friends stop by and be amazed. But... it’s never enough for him. He hasn’t lost it so bad since then, but I still feel everything still cutting right through me. Loser, Liar, Pathetic, Stupid, Lazy... One slip, and everything can be perfect and you could have done everything right, but if he takes your “tone” the wrong way, heaven help us all... I can’t even ask him a single question because it might set him off. He’s worse than a boss or a father, cuz he’s both combined, wrapped inside a giant workaholic manchild who never got his mother’s approval; without that, I KNOW that he has none to give.  For a while now, certainly since 2011, he’s been saying how they would get along just fine without me. Not, “Focus on your degree, don’t worry about this,” but guilttripping me back there on the weekends and every spare second of my time. With other college problems, I was there for most of all of those seasons. ...this past Christmas was the first I skipped, to prove this point. And he said they really could have used me, and it wasn’t the same. I was also finally officially diagnosed with Major Chronic Depression in August, and he met -and talked for over an hour with- a woman in November buying a gravecover for her son, who had just committed suicide that year. (My parents have no concept of depression not necessarily being linked to suicide. I am not and have not been suicidal.) It hurt my heart to not be out in the brisk cold, working my arms out, physically accomplishing concrete things, dazzling customers with our shiny new ribbon and flower combinations, having them watch me deftly cut and nimbly flip ribbon around, while also roughly wrestling the same piece. He also tried pitting my brother against me, saying how he basically did everything and must care so much more. I said great, glad he’s doing so well and learning so much. My brother held nothing against me for not being there. (His mother would try to turn us 3 against each other all the time; old hat. Not gonna happen.) I missed it. I still hate him. Why do I want HIS business to succeed? To prove myself to one of my worst enemies... I guess? I just happen to also have to share oplatki with him after we close.

[jetfics]

The Perils of A Misplaced Towel

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Original Female Character (Quinn)

Warnings: Some blood, nothing gory

Word Count: 1,835

Summary: Quinn wants to shower after being bedridden for a week and it leads to some complications with her stitches. Dean nearly has a heart attack. It’s a fun time. 

(first person)

Sam and Dean had left two days ago to help Bobby with a Rougarou case in Sioux Falls and they had left me behind. They did have good reason to, this time. The last case we three had been on together was a Wendigo hunt. We don’t usually hear of those too much but when we did it was a nice change of pace from all the demons and apocalypse stuff that our job had become. But it had turned out to be a really crappy weekend. 

I got kidnaped by the creature, Sam and Dean got lost in the woods and I had to kill the thing without backup. Which, naturally, didn’t go off without a hitch. At all. In fact, it would be surprising if it could have gone worse, aside from me dying. I managed to get myself untied from where it was keeping me, but being the short girl that I am, I was pretty far off the ground, which meant that when I landed I heard a horrendous crack and then I blacked out from the pain. When I woke up, I was still on the ground thankfully, but my ankle was broken and I had to get up and find my weapons, then wait for the monster, who decided to try and mince me before eating me, which ended badly for the both of us. He died and I got a nasty looking gash all the way from my knee to my hip that ended up needing about 100 or more stitches from Sam. And after all of that, I still had to drag myself out of that stupid cave and start screaming for those numb-nuts until they found me. Or at least, that’s what they say. I was unconscious by the time they got there. I somehow managed to score some sick bruises and cuts and a sprained wrist as well. That’s why I was left behind and honestly, I was completely okay with it. I was still in a lot of pain and the extra strength Tylenol wasn’t doing much for me after about a week of sleep and no movement.

I desperately needed a shower though, and I was too embarrassed to ask one of the guys to help me out, thus my last one had been before the hunt. Which was absolutely disgusting and I had reached my limit on how long I could keep my hair hidden under a bandana until I had to wash it. So, I slid myself gingerly off of my now very uncomfortable bed and limped my way down the hall into the huge bathroom. With care, I pulled my tank top off, over the Walmart bought wrist brace, and tossed it into the corner to be washed later. Thankfully I was only wearing my underwear (something I rarely got to do with Sam, Dean and Zeke) lurking around in the bunker) so they weren’t a huge hassle to get off. Limping some more, I turned on the warm water, careful not to make it too hot, and stepped into the cubicle that was quickly steaming up. The water felt like absolute bliss as it wet my extremely dirty hair and ran down my still sore back. I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment before I had to actually work to get myself clean. The only shampoo in the shower was Dean’s, because I had forgotten to buy some of my own the last time I had gone on a supply run. None-the-less, I used my good hand and dumped some on to my head and then started scrubbing. No one ever tells you how hard it is to wash long hair without both hands…. And on top of that, the soap was starting to run down my leg and get into my bandages, consequently burning when it came into contact with my very recent wound. Great. I quickly finished rinsing my hair, washing my body and then shut the water off, loathe to leave the warmth of the shower. Shivering as I stepped out into the always cold air (Sam and his A/C…), I snatched a towel from one of the hooks and wrapped it around myself, hobble-running back to my room where I immediately pulled on a hoodie, underwear and comfy shorts. Then I began to unwrap my leg, wanting to redress the newly stitched wound. Wet bandages are awful. It was then that I wished my brother wasn’t in school. He was good at dressing wounds. With a sigh, I resigned myself to my ”job”. On my way to get new gauze and wrap, I clumsily tripped over my towel and immediately felt a blinding pain. I had ripped them. I had ripped my stitches. Or some of them… Looking down, the first thing I noticed was the blood. There wasn’t supposed to be that much from just a ripped stitch or two… Thinking quickly, I sat on the floor and put the offending towel over the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. Then I slid over on my butt to the desk where I kept a spare med kit. I pulled out the suture needle, I could fix it myself. No need to call the guys and scare them. Just then, the towel slipped off my leg, leaving a trail of white hot pain and blood. With what was probably a very manly grunt, I dropped the needle and as I tried to find it with my vision going in and out, I got dizzy and then passed out. My last thought was that I was a dead woman. I was going to bleed out on the floor and when the boys found my body, they’d know I died because i was too stubborn to call for help. 

(third person) 

“Quinn! Hey! We brought back some of that nasty pistachio ice cream you like!” Dean called as he and Sam descended the stairs into the “war room”. Sam frowned when he didn’t hear her shout from another room. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe she’s on the can?” he shrugged.

“Probably showering. Singing the Grease soundtrack, be my guest,” Sam laughed.

“Say it ain’t so, Sammy!” Dean cried dramatically in a terrible southern accent and his brother laughed back. He went to put the ice cream in the freezer and Dean shouldered his duffel, trudging back to his room. Then he made quick work of walking to the bathroom for a nice, hot, well deserved shower. On the way, he noticed that the door was open to the bathroom and there was steam still on the mirror inside. So she had been showering. He grinned to himself and stepped in preparing to scare the living shit out of her, only to find a pile of clothes in the corner. That was unusual. She usually was very conscientious about leaving any mess lying around. With a small frown and a niggling feeling in his gut, he walked back out of the bathroom and to her door. He knocked a few times with no answer and then decided that if she was naked she would have said something. With a firm push, the door swung inwards and revealed a pristinely kept room and a very unconscious Quinn on the floor.

“SAMMY!” Dean yelled as he rushed to the girl on the floor, checking for a pulse. Sam came flying in, gun raised only a few seconds later. When he saw Quinn, he put the gun away and quickly found his way next to his brother.

“How did she do this?!”

“Dude, now is not the time. We don’t know how long she’s been out!”

“Yes, okay! I’ll be right back!” He ran to the bathroom, wet a towel and hurried back. Dean picked Quinn up and laid her as gently as he could on her bed. He tapped her cheek a few times, attempting to wake her up. She was pale as hell. WIth a gentle shove, Sam moved Dean out of the way and got to work cleaning her leg and resuturing her ripped stitches. It took a tense half an hour, but when he finished, Dean was quick to grab a bag of the emergency blood they all had “donated” and kept in the fridge, an IV stand and a needle. He got the IV setup and then found a vein and stuck her with the needle. She was going to be okay. They had gotten there in time. But even still, he couldn’t help but speculate on what would have happened if they hadn't…

When she came to, Dean was sitting next to her on the bed, elbows propped up on his knees and his chin resting on his hands, staring at the wall.

“Dean… what are you doing?” her voice was still hoarse from sleep.

“Quinn! You’re up, good.”

“Uh, yeah, what happened?”

“I think you might be able to do a better job of that than me. Me n’ Sammy found you bleeding out on your floor.”

She didn’t respond for a while then with a soft “Oh shit,” she rubbed her face with her bloodstained hands.

“I was trying to get fresh gauze and wrap… I didn’t want to have wet bandages wrapped around my thigh for hours… I tripped over a damn towel and I guess they ripped when I tried to catch myself. I think I was trying to resuture them, but that’s where I blacked out…I could have done it if it weren’t for the blood…”

“Quinn, you’re lucky that we got home when we did…You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

“You should be more careful.”

“Wait, you think I did this on purpose or something? That this was my fault? I may be stubborn but I’m not stupid,” her voice rose.

“No, no. I don… I don’t think that… I just… I saw you there on the floor and I… I just had this image of trying to live here, do what we do, without you and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do any of this without you around. And Zeke… I can’t imagine what he would have done… This is my fault. I should have stayed behind to take care of you for as long as you needed.”

“Dean, no…”

“Just promise me if you need help with something you’ll let me know, okay?”

“I can do that,” she smiled at him gently and leaned back against the headboard, “Dean I need something.”

“Anything.”

“Do we have any dessert?” She smirked and he laughed at her. Of course she would want dessert at eleven in the damn morning, right after she nearly died. He’d expect nothing less.

“We do, as a matter of fact. Ice cream. You want some?”

“Oh yes. I definitely want some. But I want to eat it out there. I am sick of this room.”

“That can be arranged,” Dean first grabbed her a pair of shorts and helped her put them on and then he let her lean on him all the way to the kitchen where he set her in a chair and got her the desert. The smile she gave him was worth every second of work he did for her.