#if real life had fear toxin i think that's what i would see | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silvanils · 2 years

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“I love you, okay? I love you!” for the a pairing of your choice?

@dadrunkwriting

An idea for this one hit me like a wild boar, or perhaps a wyvern? In any case, here is some more Serault goodness, this time with a side of smut!

If you’d prefer to read on Ao3, you can find it here!

Pairing: the Wayward Bard x the Scholar Rating: E (but a soft E) Word Count: 1855

As they ride back from the woods, the Bard slumps against the Marquis in relief, holding him in a tight embrace. “I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t a dream,” the Bard admits. “That you’re not some fey-creature trying to ensnare me. When you stepped out of that hedge, you hardly looked like yourself!”

The Marquis scoffs, though he knows it’s true. He’s barely been the studious Scholar of late, or the meek little Mouse. He’s had to be braver, bolder, fiercer, but sometimes… it still doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

“I’m real,” the Marquis says. “Now, tell me what the Knight wanted with you.”

Most of the way back, the Bard talks about his time in the Heartwood Court while the Marquis tries to hide his own pains. But the moment they return to the Chateau, they’re both rushed up to the Marquis’ private quarters, supplied with ointments, bandages, and as much wine as the Bard could want…

The wine remains surprisingly untouched, though.

Once they are alone, the Bard turns to inspect the Marquis with a worried frown. Mouse runs a hand through his hair, watches a leaf flutter down… and grimaces when he feels fresh blood trickle down his neck from behind his ear, where one of the razor-sharp thorns cut him.

“Why would you do such a thing,” the Bard asks, his hands moving swiftly as he helps the Marquis undress. Mouse can still feel the sting of the toxins in his veins, the half-dried blood that trickled down his neck, his arms, his stomach.

When the Bard sees the red-stains on his under-shirt, he freezes. His nut-brown eyes flick up, and Mouse is surprised to see the concern in them is genuine.

“Why?” He asks again, more insistently.

His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, as though — as though he were drunk! Perhaps he might as well be. He slips it along his dry lips, wetting them. The Bard’s eyes fix on them, then, and Mouse flushes.

“Damn you,” he groans, a flare of anger rising in him. “Need I have a reason? You are mine, are you not?”

The Bard straightens slowly, raises his hand to Mouse’s cheek. The gesture is impossibly intimate, with both of them unmasked like this — the Bard’s missing when they found him, his own lost somewhere in the hedges.

Not that it matters, now.

“I am yours,” the Bard whispers. “As always.”

Yours, he says, but Mouse recalls how they learned the Bard was taken by the Knight. The pretty peasant girl, with the golden curls. Mouse feels a wave of jealousy wash over him, crest, and burst.

Before he can think to stop himself, he tugs the Bard down roughly, kissing him with the same ferocity that drove him through his most recent hunt. He feels the Bard groan when he scrapes his teeth across his lip, hopes and fears this is too much for him as well. He feels like he’s teetering, dangerously close to the edge of a cliff.

The Bard pushes him back gently, studies his face closely before he speaks. “My dear Mouse… are you sure this is wise…?”

“No,” Mouse says, “but I don’t care.”

He wants this more than he’s wanted anything in his life. Has wanted it for far too long… and been too scared to take it. The Bard must know this, too, because Mouse’s words make sparks light in his eyes.

“I like it when you show your teeth,” he says, voice low. “Though it isn’t very Mouse-like of you…”

“Then don’t call me Mouse,” he says, his own fingers clumsily undoing the laces on the Bard’s shirt. “My name is Etienne.”

The Bard flushes then, as well he should. In these parts true names are rarely used, often shared only in utmost confidence: not a gift offered lightly. And for the Marquis to lower this wall now, permit his Bard to call him by his name —

Mouse gasps in surprise when the Bard leans in to kiss him again, feels him trail several more up his jaw toward his ear. He can’t stifle a breathless laugh at how the Bard’s little beard tickles his neck, but when the Bard nips at his skin with his teeth Mouse moans and arches against him, his hand gripping the Bard’s bared shoulder.

“Will,” the Bard breathes. “You may call me Will, Etienne.”

He feels something shift in him, that unruly jealous knot untangling just a little bit. The Bard — Will, his name is Will — lowers himself again, kneels in front of Mouse in such a way that has him flushing all the way down his neck. He can feel the heat of his breath brush over his thigh, his hardening cock.

“Patience,” Will whispers, his fingers undoing the laces far too slowly. Mouse fears he has no patience left: he is burning up, no longer capable of containing these feelings he’s bottled up for far too long. Just as he’s about to reach a breaking point, Will leans in, presses an open-mouthed kiss against him.

He’s no longer teetering. He’s falling.

Mouse leans forward with a groan, tangles his fingers into Will’s wavy locks which are conveniently the perfect length for gripping just like this — cries out as he feels Will swallow him whole. How is it that all he can focus on is that wet heat? The stroke of his tongue? The sweat trickling down his back?

As quickly as the heat builds, however, Will’s clearly experienced enough to know when to stop before it bursts. He backs off, swipes his tongue over the head once more, and flashes Mouse a wolfish grin. “This isn’t too much for you, is it? Too fast?”

“No,” he blurts out, hastily. “I want you.” To be able to say it so plainly, now, is quite a heady rush. But still, the doubts creep in. “Oh, but I’m still such a mess! And you — are you truly up for this, right now?”

Will laughs aloud — a true, heartfelt sound. He leans back a little, angling his figure so Mouse can get a good look at him, see the sweat glinting on his chest and stomach, the pointed strain of his own hardness in his pants.

“My dear Marquis, I assure you, you look… striking. And I am very up for this. Or down for it, or…” he leans in again, kissing along the length of his cock, “…however you want this, Etienne.”

His head is still spinning. “In bed,” he says, which makes Will laugh again. “Shut up! Forgive me for pitying your knees!”

They do manage to stumble to the bed, together. In one smooth gesture Mouse pushes him and he tugs Mouse flush against him as they fall against the soft mattress, mouths once again meeting in the middle.

“I’ve never enjoyed kissing so much,” Mouse admits, quietly.

“You must have been doing it wrong, then,” Will scolds, cupping his cheek again as he presses their lips back together. It’s soft, and sweet, and — when he pulls away once again, his eyes are strangely vulnerable. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

Too long, Mouse thinks. “Damn you,” he says, pulling Will down for another kiss. And another, and — in between all the kisses, Will manages to tug the rest of their clothes off, and Mouse slicks his own palm with a sneaky spark of magic, so as not to break the wonderful rhythm they have going to hunt for oil.

“Well, isn’t that handy,” Will says, chuckling. The sound quickly becomes a groan as Mouse wraps his hand around both of their cocks, stroking them together. “Ah…!”

And perhaps it isn’t wise to keep going. He knows he’s going to be spending the next several days recovering from his latest hunt as it is, but — he’s desperate. Now that he has the Bard where he wants him, he can’t bring himself to do this half-way. He groans, shifting his hips just enough to change the angle, sliding his hand away to grip Will’s bicep for support.

“Please,” he whispers, “I want — ”

Will presses forward, kissing Etienne soundly as he breaches him. It stings fiercely, but is a better pain than the ache of not knowing if he’d ever see his Bard again. So many people simply vanish in the woods.

“Don’t stop,” he breathes, even as tears well up in his eyes. “I’m fine, I swear.”

“I know, I know,” Will sighs, swiping at the wetness with his thumb. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

He listens, though, and continues to move — slowly, for now, but Etienne can already feel the sparks again, the heat, the rush of blood through his veins. He digs his nails into Will’s skin, feels his sharp intake of breath and how his pace stutters, gasps when he brushes something just so.

“Ah-ha,” Will chuckles. “There it is.”

He grabs Etienne’s leg, holds it in place as he presses in again and all Etienne can do is hold on as the sensations begin to overwhelm him. He’s so close, so close, but — not quite there, yet. “Will,” he moans. “Will, please…!”

“I’ve got you,” he repeats, reaching between them to stroke Etienne’s cock. “No need to hold back.”

He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. It’s too much. He arches into Will’s hand, feels more tears wet his cheeks as he gives into the sensation, tumbles and crashes over the last cliff-edge.

It’s intense. Unbelievably so — but Will’s right there with him. As he comes down from his own high, Etienne watches Will pull out and stroke himself to completion over his stomach, then slump down beside him with a quiet sigh.

“Now you’re really a mess,” Will teases, brushing his hand across Etienne’s face. Such a gentle touch, he can’t help but lean into it. As the rush begins to fade, though, he can feel the knot forming again, deep in his chest. He closes his eyes, tries to fight it, but he can’t — no more than he could fight any of these feelings.

“Etienne?” Will asks, his tone concerned. “Is something wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Etienne sighs. “It’s just so much, at once, and… I can’t bear the thought of you leaving me again.”

Will shifts, moves to cradle Etienne’s head and, when Etienne opens his eyes he sees him staring at him with a new intensity. “I love you, okay? I love you! I’ve loved you for a damn long time, in fact. I just didn’t know if you’d have me.”

He flushes, his mouth agape. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

Will shakes his head. “That you wanted me? Yes. That you’d have me? No. I didn’t want to overstep if you wished to avoid the scandal.”

Etienne laughs aloud at that, falling backwards against the downy pillows. Turns out, we are both fools. “I thought you would never want me!”

“It’s good that we got that cleared up, then,” Will sighs. But he’s wearing a soft smile when he turns his head. “I am yours, for as long as you desire this.”

Always, Etienne thinks. Always.

#da drunk writing circle #dragon age #the last court #serault #the scholar x the wayward bard #;knight writes

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sakiaii · 9 months

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Armored x Magic girls ‘title forever work in progress’ series 2

as established in series 1 professor had secrets and was preparing himself for the arrival of those aliens but when they showed up not looking for him he did not want to risk it and picked some girls that were expendable you see he had some orphans gathered it's not exactly Xavier's mansion (me and hoyo devs thinking the same again, Arlecchino house of heart, but my ideas are older) there he put someone else in charge. women in her early 40's maybe and she was an alien just like him, had a limp so she would walk with a cane but imma be real i have 3 eras of this stories and i've no idea how she injured her leg or what her story is xD

this series has 3 stories; 1 main, 2 sub. main is about those girls in that house and their caretaker as 2 new group of aliens shows up but this time they are interested in armors and crystal. the male leader is in charge of finding the armors secret while the female leader is in charge of retrieving the crystal from series 1.

now for surprises

the crystal actually brought that girl using Dragon armor back to life and she can now use full power of that armor, that's sub story 1

sub story 2, well professor kinda left on his spaceship because he started caring about those girls and didn't want them to find out about the real him but also because... Sarah and Rebecca are actually alive dundun dun so he teleported them to safety before the explosion but now he believes that in order to get through to Sarah he needs to ditch them on a alien world with no armors and tells them they need to work together in order to survive here

few things from the main story. professor had the caretaker use a little bit of that matter on this new girls but just a little, way before series 2 started. well 1 girl got affected weirdly and develop mental abilities like telekinesis but in every episode she just sits at the table staring at the chessboard not interacting with environment. if someone tries to play chess with her she just returns the piece back with telekinesis. just like with gold ranger there's a sudden new arrival but this girl is actually an alien doing her thing caretaker knows her and will ask her not to reveal anything to this girls. She fights using rhythm and doesn't always uses the same toon she switches between genres the enemies thought this could be her weakness but as it turned out she's just that good and silence or sounds of nature are good inspiration as well. when the fighting gets tough the caretaker will give one girl a power up (will say more about that latter) hmm remembering now i think there was also a girl that was a fan of the series 1 team.

now Sarah and Rebecca are left on this world where bandit groups control villages and bully the locals like tyrant rulers. there's a bit of a love-hate between them now. Rebecca doesn't want to interfere with this world but Sarah always ends up with a eye twitch and starts beating up those groups at the end of this story Rebecca will see that eye twitch and start attacking them before Sarah who will just stay watching with a smile as she starts coughing up something black and loses consciousness as it turns out her body started rejecting the toxin she will stay a super soldier but the matters toxin will leave her body (apparently it was connected to emotions so the matter preferred negative like depresion. huh weird and interesting)

with that out of the way it's time for the classic old team meets the current. it starts with 2 new mysterius armors showing up first but if you look at the teamwork of those 2 you will recognise the signature teamwork of Sarah now Raven armor and Rebecca now Phoenix armor. here the professor has a chat with the caretaker as they observe from the hill and we realise that caretaker did not give that one girl a power up but it was the armors true potential which she locked in some fear what if the girls turn on them. so professor tells her to fear not before leaving once more

well that's basically it i was expecting this one to be shorter than the previous but wait there's more

after the classic episode and before the final their house is attacked and as everyone is fighting inside the sitting by the chessboard girl moves the piece with her own hand which is weird for everyone that knows her. her focus changed to environment surrendering her and the danger in it the next thing she's going to do after moving the piece for the first time physically is to unleash her mental powers on the enemies inside the house entering the mind of one of them and defeating him there in somewhat imaginative colorful setting i mean at one point she even summoned an ogre to clubber the guy and the guy thought if this is an illusion it will not hurt-spoiler it hurt. after that is over this girl will sit back in her chair and faint as blood comes from her nose. caretaker then picks her up and takes her to her room and puts her on the bed and on the nightstand we can see this girl actually has armor summoning device that she used in her fantasy fight inside that enemies head. There are some differences in irl, when summoning armor in fantasy bunch of shield and spear guards showed up as if protecting her during sequence, she used a rapier but in irl guards are see through holograms and she uses a mace in different hand, the ogre is still there but she tosses him her mace it's assumed this is combination of her mental powers illusions+telekinesis where she's using visuals to guide the attack

#AxM #Series 2 #Story 2 #first era #third post #3

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nimbus-ocs · 10 months

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Acidwash, Chapter 1

A/N : i finally got to writing! chapters r gonna be pretty short, so ill hopefully be able to write more lol. enjoy

Summary: When Mary Jo Shirley first met Richard 'Dick' Grayson, she never expected to become a permanent part of his life. Yet here she is, a (mostly) normal person dealing with villains and heroes alike. All she wants is to enjoy her life, with a high paying job she loves and a wonderful boyfriend! But in Gotham City, nothing ever goes how you want it to.

Sometimes, Mary Jo Shirley wondered what event caused her to end up where she was today. Was it when she decided to get a degree in chemical engineering? Maybe when she got the job at Wayne Industries? Or was it when she started dating Dick Grayson?

She sighed.

Today was supposed to be her self-care day, for her to go do whatever she wanted, with whoever she wanted! Right now, she was supposed to be at a spa! Not sitting in a dirty, decrepit warehouse, tied to a chair with (very scratchy and uncomfortable) ropes and looking up at the fucking Joker of all people.

Said clown was currently messing around with… something. He had his back to her so she couldn't quite see what it was. What little she could see, did not look promising to her. There were some vials with some liquid, that was kinda smoking. Great. Besides the table, she noticed some larger tanks of what was probably a gas.

Damn it, that was most definitely Fear Toxin. Just her luck, she supposed.

Jo looked around the warehouse, but nothing looked different from when she looked around the first time. Gray walls, gray floor, very tall gray ceiling and a few people standing guard at the one entrance. There were probably also some guards on the other side. No windows.

Even though she could free herself very easily, she had kept her superpower secret for this long already. Wasn't it more of a loss to let people know about it?

On the other hand, she really didn't want to experience Fear Toxin again. The first time was enough of it for a lifetime. If only she was immune to poison gas. Sigh.

She could just wait for Dick to arrive, but he would take some time. Both in discovering she was gone and finding out where she was. It was supposed to be her day for herself.

Thinking it over, the answer was probably pretty clear.

Looking around one last time, she assured herself that no one else was looking, before she took a deep breath. The rope around her wrists was high enough that she could just wrap her hands around it. She felt her hands start to generate acid. It made a soft hissing noise when it touched the rope. Not even a minute later, she had the pieces of the rope in her hands.

Now to escape.

The Joker was still preoccupied with.. whatever he was doing. Maybe she could just… sneak past him? Yeah, that was probably her best bet. Even if she got caught, it wouldn't be that different from what the Joker was planning on doing to her.

Jo slowly stood up, letting the rope fall softly to the concrete floor. None of the guards had noticed yet. Neither had the Joker.

She walked close to the wall. The guards still haven't noticed anything. She got closer and closer to the entrance. How no one had noticed yet, she honestly didn't know.

Closer..

“Hey!”

Oh no.

One of the guards had noticed. The other guard turned, looking at her too. In the corner, the Joker also turned, his unnaturally wide open eyes fixing their gaze on her. Shit.

She settled into a fighting stance, thanking herself for deciding to take those self defense classes. The guards pulled out their handguns, which she hadn't noticed before. It really wasn't her day today.

Even though Jo had never been in a real fight before, she had watched Dick fight a lot. And a lot of shows. Which… definitely wasn't the best source of advice, but hey! She needed all she could get.

The guards weren't shooting yet, seeing as she wasn't moving yet.

She made a quick decision, and started running towards them, hoping that they'd be shocked enough not to shoot her.

Finally having some luck, they were. She quickly punched both guards in the face, disarmed them, taking the guns for herself and using her acid to melt them down. Sadly, she never learnt to shoot a gun. Maybe she’d ask if Alfred was willing to teach her after all this was over.

The guards were on the floor, both having been knocked out.

Jo looked around. She couldn't see the Joker anymore. But oh well. That's very much not her problem! She pushed the men away from the door, and quietly twisted the door handle open. Not hearing any sort of reactions from the other side of the door, she opened it up all the way.

Huh. No one. That's.. surprising. Really doesn't seem like the Joker to be so unprepared. But again. Not her problem.

Now, time to find a taxi and get home. Her clothes were kind of destroyed from the acid, she hadn't had any time for the self care she had planned and most importantly, she was exhausted.

#mary jo shirley #my ocs #dc #oc x canon #nightwing #richard grayson #fic #acidwash fic

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enchantingruinscandy · 2 years

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5, 6, 10, 11, 19 :eyes:

Oooh this will be a long post for sure so I'm gonna slip a lil read more on here from the start

Number 5 is based on a poem/prayer that kam sent me. I think I actually have most of it written, and I think I just need it beta read, but here's a little piece of it:

“When I die give what’s left of me away,”

Bruce cried. He cried as he had never cried before in his life. The broken body of his son was clutched in his arms. This wasn’t real. There was no way that someone as special as Jason was gone. He stood, tears still flowing, and carried his son away. He was broken. The light in his darkness was gone. He felt himself plummeting with nothing to catch himself with.

The following week Bruce found himself standing beside a fresh grave. His tears and sniffling were the only things reminding him that he was alive still, that he was here to feel the pain of his loss.

OOOOOHHH NUMBER 6!!! Okay this one is based on an art piece I saw on here. It's a cute little fic where Damian has a nightmare and insists that he got fear gassed by Scarecrow. (I'd link it but I seem to have misplaced it) This one is purely fluff:

He closed his eyes slowly and felt himself drifting off. He had only been asleep for a few minutes when he awoke to a soft tapping on his door. “Come on in, buddy,” he called softly and slowly propped himself up on an elbow. The door softly creaked open, and just as Bruce expected, Damian’s head poked through the opening.

“Father,” they began, stepping lightly into the room, “I came to inform you that I have reason to believe that we have been attacked by the Scarecrow.”

Bruce sat up the rest of the way to get a better look at his child. Damian tried to stand tall like he always did, but Bruce could see the slight quiver of his lower lip, the way they tightly clutched the gloomy bear (that they had insistently embroidered angry eyebrows onto), and the way their eyes darted around the room.

Damian was scared. He thought that he’d been attacked by Scarecrow’s gas.

“Dami, what happened?”

Damian took a deep breath and looked Bruce in the eye. “I think while I was on patrol earlier I got gassed with a new form of fear toxin that takes time to activate. I was fine all night, but when I went to sleep I had a strange dream. I, uh, it was the same as when I get gassed, Father, so I know it’s fear gas.”

Bruce sat for a moment to think. It would be on-brand for Crane to devise such a concoction, but Bruce was sure that wasn’t what happened. “Damian,” he said as he pulled the covers off of his legs and stood, “I don’t think you were gassed. We were together the whole night. If you were gassed, I would have been gassed too. I think you just had a regular nightmare, buddy.”

“Tt. Father, I am not a child who has nightmares,” he said as he clutched the toy closer to his chest. “It had to have been fear gas,” they whispered, their eyes trained on the floor.

Number 10 is a superbat fic au where the world is protected enough that all superheroes can retire. I'm so fond of this one and I haven't even written anything for it yet. I'm planning to make it a multi chapter fic, but I might end up with a oneshot just to get it written and shared. This fic is so important to me actually and ily sm for asking about it. The name came from a song with the same name because I have a mental image of Bruce serenading Clark with it

Aha! Sooo number 11 is actually a sequel to someone else's fic where Clark is forced to kill Dick. So this is kinda a bvs thing where Bruce is out for Clark's blood. I actually think this one is in the same situation as When I Die Give What's Left of Me Away where I really just need to get around to sending it to my beloved beta reader, piff. It’s kinda angsty, and its a fic I definitely wrote for myself.

Nineteen is a lil sketchy sketch I did when frostbittenbucky (I think) was talking about Billy being Robin. I want to finish it at some point, but I think it'll just be a rainy day kind of project. Here's the sketch I drew tho!

Thanks for the ask, Winter! Here's a link to the ask game if you wanna play too!

#ask games #arlos asks #long post #winter ❄️#enchanted dumbassery

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marauderundercover · 3 years

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Crashed Dates (Day 2: Scarecrow)

Marinette grins at her boyfriend, swinging their intertwined hands back and forth as they walk around the pumpkin farm. It was so nice, finally being able to go on cute dates like this. They’d first started dating while he was in Paris on business, around a year ago. Sure, he’d made trips to Paris and she’d made a few to Metropolis, but it was different now that she had moved to Gotham. Now they were able to go on random, unplanned dates, instead of dates that had been planned for weeks. He was definitely worried when she first told him she was moving to Gotham, but she had reassured him that it would be fine. (Not that she had a choice in the matter, Tikki had informed her on her last trip to Metropolis that Gotham was sick, that it was calling out for help and that as the Guardian, it was her job to help it). Gotham was….interesting, but she’d settled in just fine in the two weeks she’d been there.

And so, when he had called her out of the blue to tell her he found a place he thought she’d love, she made sure she had enough layers and jumped at the chance for a day with him. So far, the day had been absolutely perfect. They’d drank hot apple cider, ate warm donuts, taken a trip around the farm on the hayride- everything was great. But for some reason, her amazingly stubborn boyfriend didn’t want to go into the corn maze.

“Please! You’ll be my favorite person in the whole world.” She begs again, her grin quickly switching into a pout. She keeps pouting, leaning against his arm, until he sighs.

“Fine, we can do the maze.” He says and she cheers, standing on her toes and tugging him down slightly to give him a quick kiss.

“You are the best!” She says, over enunciating every word. He just grins, giving her another soft kiss.

“If we get lost, I’m calling the Demon Spawn to come get us out. Pretty sure he has a tracker on my phone.” Jason says, letting her tug him along towards the maze. She just rolls her eyes, grinning.

“You know you’re secretly touched that he cares enough to track you.” She teases as they near the entrance of the maze.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbles, glaring at the scarecrow situated at the entrance of the maze. Marinette raises an eyebrow.

“You have a problem with men made of straw?” She asks, legitimately confused by his reaction.

“Geeze M, I knew you were new to Gotham but I forget how new.” He says, pulling her closer. She melts into him, still confused by his reaction, but happy to be close. As they walk through the maze, frustratingly running into deadends, Jason explains Scarecrow. Marinette decides that he’s number two on the list of villains she never wants to meet. Joker is number one. (Joker is also number one on the list of villains she wants to meet, but that’s because she’s always wondered what it would look like to cataclysm a psychotic clown). She’s just about to suggest they call Damian and utilize the tracker that was, undoubtedly on Jason’s phone, when the screaming begins.

“There isn’t a haunted house here, is there.” Marinette says, her face pale. She wasn’t ready to be a hero again. She’d only defeated Hawkmoth a year ago. Just before meeting Jason. She didn’t want that part of her life again, not now.

“No, no there’s not.” Jason says, eyes glancing around wildly. Marinette’s heart breaks at the panic on his face. She knew that, despite his tough guy appearance, he struggled. A lot. He had nightmares, constantly, mostly of the time Joker had kidnapped him (hence the whole, cataclysm Joker thing). Pushing down her own fear and doubt, she tightens her grip on his hand and squares her shoulders.

“Come on.” She instructs, tugging him behind her as she darts through the maze, determined to get out. She stumbles over a rock and lets go of Jason’s hand in time for her to fall into a larger clearing. She curses as she falls, her palms stinging.

“What have we here?” A voice says. Marinette sits up, staring up at a man in a scarecrow costume and suddenly, Jason’s fear, or rather, dislike, of scarecrows makes more sense. So much more sense. She glances around and lets out a sigh of relief. She’d let go of Jason quick enough. He wasn’t caught up in this. Hopefully, he could call his father. She wasn’t sure if the rumors about Bruce Wayne and Batman dating were true, but Batman was always quick to interfere if it was a Wayne or Wayne adjacent involved.

“A girl who’s a little pissed that you crashed her date.” She retorts, standing up and brushing her stinging palms off on her jeans. She’d have to get the blood out later, which would be a pain. Better than having the blood on her palms mix with the dirt that also now covered her hands.

“You’re either very brave or very stupid, little girl. Let’s see how you deal with my newest strain of fear toxin.” He says, and she lunges towards the man, not willing to go down without a fight. Almost immediately, a sharp pinch on her neck has her stumbling back away from the man as she tries to take in her new surroundings.

She was back in Paris, but it wasn’t the Paris she had left. The city that was healing. Instead this Paris was underwater. Buildings were toppled over, and the moon was in pieces in the sky. She was back there. A place she hadn’t seen in person since she was fourteen, a place that had haunted her nightmares for ten years. She inhales sharply when she sees him. Chat Blanc. But instead of fear, she’s just angry. This isn’t real. It can’t be. Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir. And Adrien was….turning, she realizes that she can almost see him. Out of the corner of her eye, she can almost see Scarecrow, watching her. Waiting for her to react. Anger coursing through her, she charges the man, tackling him all the way to the ground. She pulls back her fist and punches him, repeatedly.

“How dare you! How dare you use his face like that! You son of a bitch!” She screams as she hits, the roaring in her ears blocking out all other sounds. She keeps her focus on feeling the man she’s hitting, because the second she lets her focus wander, she gets sucked into her surroundings again. The way the sky just looks wrong. The odd haze over everything. And now, the corpses floating in the water closest to her. Adrien. Maman. Papa. She’s not scared, she’s pissed. Sure, those were her biggest fears and that’s definitely why she was seeing them all like that, but she’d already seen it. She’s lived it. They were gone, not coming back. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to fall down and break about it. Not when some asshole with fear toxin was running around randomly injecting people. Suddenly, something is wrapped around her and she’s pulled up. She kicks frantically, trying to get out of the steel grip she’s trapped in. She had to- what did she have to do? Another sharp pinch in her neck makes her eyes droop sleepily. She struggles again, barely able to hear the voice calling her name as she succumbs to the darkness.

---

Jason Todd feels like a major prick. He watched his girlfriend trip and instead of helping her up, he uses it as a distraction to try and call B. How the fuck was he supposed to know she tripped right into the Scarecrow? He’s cursing himself mentally as he rushes towards the ambulance. Replacement had texted him.

Marinette was injected. At ambulances near front of farm

And Jason felt like shit. She’d never forgive him, not that he deserved it. He’d left her with one of Gotham’s biggest villains. His heart sinks when he sees the blood on her, and the oxygen mask attached to her face. Fuck. He’s almost to her, when one of the asshole cops stops him.

“Excuse me, sir, you can’t go over there.” He says and Jason scowls.

“Like hell I can’t. She’s my girlfriend, let me through.” He says, and the man shakes his head.

“Family only.” He states. Jason’s about to argue, when a hand lands on his shoulder.

“I still need to get a statement from Mr. Todd, if you’ll excuse us.” Replacement says, leading him away from the cop.

“I left her.” He says, the second they’re far enough away. Tim frowns.

“What do you-”

“I mean, I left her. She tripped and instead of checking on her, I was a complete and total asshole and left her so I could call B to get his ass over here and solve the goddamn problem.” Jason says, feeling like even more of an asshole now that he’s said it out loud.

“Did you see Scarecrow?” Replacement asks. Jason scoffs.

“Of course not! You really think I would’ve left if I had?” He asks with a glare.

“No, I don’t. So stop blaming yourself. I literally peeled her off of Scarecrow, she was beating the crap out of him. She’s gonna be tired and scared and confused when she wakes up. Just be there-”

“Jason!” Her terrified voice echoes out and Jason turns, sprinting for the cot he’d seen her on a minute ago. She had ripped the oxygen mask off her face and was looking around while arguing with the paramedic.

“Ma’am please-” “Marinette!” Jason calls, and her face relaxes as she leaps off the cot and launches herself into his arms. He holds her as she shakes, sobs wracking her body.

“I saw them.” She mumbles once she calms down a little. He frowns.

“Saw who?” He asks.

“My parents. Adrien. Their bodies.” She says, and suddenly, Jason has another name to add to his kill list. Being a complete asshole to all of Gotham, sure. Making his girlfriend see the bodies of those she’d lost? Nope. Now the bastard better hope he didn’t meet Red Hood in an alley.

“God, Mari, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry I left.” He apologizes, his heart aching when she pushes him away. She frowns up at him and he winces, certain she’s about to break up with him.

“Left?” She asks and he nods.

“When you tripped, I swear, I didn’t know Scarecrow was there.” He says.

“But you got Batman here.” She says and he jerks back. How the hell had she figured it out? When did she- “I know Bruce said he isn’t dating Batman, but honestly, I think he’s just in denial.” She adds.

“I- what?”

“Batman always comes when anyone in the Wayne family is in danger. Like, so quickly. And I know that Bruce says it’s just a bunch of rumors, like the whole ‘the butts match’ thing? But I also think that Batman is head over heels for Bruce, and your dad is just kinda clueless.” She rambles. Jason just laughs before pulling her into a deep kiss. She was okay. They were okay. He pulls back and grins at her, until he notices the blood again.

“Shit, that’s a lot of blood.” He says, taking her hand in his to try and find the source. He glances at her face and raises an eyebrow at the blush that had taken over her face.

“Oh, um, it’s not mine.” She mumbles.

“Then who-” “Apparently I beat the hell out of Scarecrow. In my defense, that fear toxin sucked. And I was kinda pissed.” She says, frowning down at the blood on her hands. Jason takes one of his hands and gently tilts her chin up so that she’s looking at him again. He grins at her, giving her a short, soft kiss before pulling back.

“I love you.” He says, and if the kiss she gave him in return meant anything, she felt the same way.

Permanent tag list (open): @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth

#maribat #maribat fanfiction #maribathalloween21 #maribat jason todd #jasonette #maribat marinette dupain cheng #marinette ships bruce and batman #i dont make the rules #major character death #mentioned character death #maribat oneshot

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littlefreya · 3 years

Text

Easy Prey

Summary: Direct sequel to Jerk. Ring or not, August promised himself that he will make you his, in whatever mean possible and he kept that promise.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd person pov)

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: 18+, dark, kidnapping, bondage, dubious consent, teasing, dirty talk, gunplay (yeah add this to the list of kinks I gave you), sweet degradation and praise.

A/N: You thought August is going to sweet talk this one, didn’t you? Surprise! This was a short drabble brought by a prompt, turned into a one-shot and then my beta @agniavateira suggested this as a sequel to Jerk before I posted. Since most of you may be in a thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, enjoy my own early b-day gift to you! Many thanks to @wondersofdreaming and @sapphirescrolls who convinced me to post this.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed. Your feedback is my fuel. 🖤

Easy Prey

August Walker lived his life swinging between the two sharp edges of a sword; but then, how could he not? He had to maintain a handsome prime-alpha male reputation while hiding his true cruel nature masked beneath mist and shadows.

It took everyone by surprise once it was revealed that the slick, charming agent was a vicious, Armani-wearing monster. A hard-to-swallow pill for most, but these two diverse entities were always one and the same:

August Walker was John Lark the way darkness followed light.

And how unfortunate it was of you to be lured into the spider’s web, stunned by the beauty of the pearly silk; you’ve gotten too close and had your limbs caught in the sticky threads. Now captured, you’ve earned yourself a taste of August’s sweet toxin yourself.

Fear wasn’t even close to the sensation that was gnawing in your gut.

The suite was cosy; a sleepy fire crackled in the mantle, shy beams of maple light kissed your bare breasts while you laid upon the softest pillows. It felt like a sinister joke compared to the ropes charring the supple flesh of your wrists. August had you stripped of any remnants of protection of course, save for the little jewellery circling your finger which he eyed with a blank stare that screamed in its contained silence.

Fully clothed, he stood at the fore of the bed, wearing a blue three-piece suit as if he was attending a royal wedding. A magnum was clutched in his right hand and a dagger in the other. The calmness and elegance of his appearance only made you arch and grunt in your fruitless attempts to set yourself free.

“Ropes too tight, angel?” He hummed, his voice so pleasant it felt like your lungs were floating in a void. His crystal-pale gaze dawdled upon you, invading beneath the skin, penetrating the warm crease between your legs which you fought to keep shut.

He felt it, or maybe even smelled the arousal that wafted at his direction and chanted his name.

“I’d save my strength if I were you. We’ve already proven that no one can hear your screams and we have a long night ahead of us.”

His words covered the bones of your spine with a thick layer of frost and in your searing throat, a bitter substance reemerged. Screwing your eyes shut, you wished more than anything for this to be a nightmare; but every time the binds twisted about your hands, you remembered the dreadful meaning behind the pain.

It was there to remind you of the harsh slap that was reality.

August tilted his head, a smile beginning to spread from each corner of his mouth: all pleasant and charming as if this was nothing but a couple’s naughty getaway.

“You can’t wake up from this, this is not a dream… or a nightmare, depends on your disobedience,” he assured, boding a sudden hollow in your chest. “Now, which one do you prefer? The knife or the gun?”

“Fuck you!”

Defiant, you gathered yourself to scream a trembling cry, sending your legs to kick the mattress in a hopeless fight. Only it made things worse as August was able to spot the little dew-kissed orchid between your legs, glistening-wet with invitation.

Flicking a tongue over his upper lip, he crept close. His broad shoulders strained, his posture that of an elegant predator; as you saw the large outlines of his heavy cock stretching his navy-blue trousers, even hatred and horror couldn’t mask the pang of need that shot through your core.

Despite the panic, the traitorous instinct of life whispered of undisclosed, primal lust. You wished so badly you could fight or hide it, but alas there was no hiding from August. He could sense it, see it, and even taste it on his wicked tongue.

“Gun then,” he answered and slid the knife back into the holster in his belt.

Your breath hitched as the mattress dipped beneath his weight, and you watched paralysed as he aimed the gun between your legs. Strong tremors coursed along your skin and your knees buckled and wobbled as the cold metal touched you; and yet, in that very moment, you did the impossible and moaned.

“Has it been that long since you had a dick inside you?” August observed with a vicious grin crisping his lips. It made his moustache twitch almost comically.

“Don’t worry sweet angel, we’ll fix that soon.”

Pushing the gun between your kneecaps, he forced them open and ran the barrel feverishly down your inner thighs. The metal was freezing against your flesh, eliciting little tingles to spiral beneath the tender brush. Gasping, you looked away from him ashamed. You were terrified, not just of him, but from how much the wanton centre of your sex clenched from his ministrations.

You were bound and kidnapped by a dangerous man, and yet in your mind played the sick fantasies of him unbuckling his belt and giving you his full girth hard and wild.

“You will soon have me in every hole,” August continued with a promise on his honeyed lips while lowering the brim of the weapon perilously close to your radiating heat and toying with the sensitive area teasingly. “I will make it hurt real bad, you’ll feel me there for days if not more,” he hummed and swerved the barrel between your engorged lips.

“Please!” You gasped and writhed away slightly, tugging on the binds that began chafing your delicate skin. August raised his glare to meet your pleading eyes and leaned forward, his shadow looming over you entirely. Reaching one hand to your nape, he clutched you forcefully while his icy glare pierced right through your skull.

Slow and sensual he began to run the gun between your soft petals, gingerly grazing the hard shaft at the plump peak of flesh that made you cry out with both pleasure and despair.

“Aww...” He keened and groaned. Never stopping his coaxing of your cunt with the still object, his breath huffed hot upon your cheek as he rounded his beautiful lips in faux pity. “Poor helpless little butterfly.”

Crying and dazed, you stared directly into his eyes. Words of plea kept running caged inside your head, unable to make their way out while you watched August’s large shoulder move back and forth. The movement resulting in the unwanted pleasure. Back and forth, he stroked you, gradually increasing the pace, and not without style even. Ruthless, August was keen on making you come.

You weren’t even sure what it was that you begged for at that point.

Grunts and sobs escaped your throat unwillingly. You squirmed and pushed against it, your body craving for more: not just for the rough friction that tingled at your cunt but also at the large bulge visible at his groin. The more rapture began to creep through your flowing tendons, the further you sank into delirium, wondering how he would feel like buried deep between your tight walls, fucking you the way only someone who has no boundaries would.

“Fuck!” You screamed, grinding against the metal while August leaned even closer and kissed the corner of your mouth before groaning and moaning at your lips. His hand worked hard between your thighs, the cold barrel now warm, the hollow edge coated with your elixir.

The wall of your protests crumbled as the simmering surge of climax began pushing itself down your belly, leaving you teetering between self-loathing and ecstasy.

“That’s right my beautiful butterfly, I’ll pluck your wings,” August promised in a husky whisper, watching you as you coiled and cried louder, your walls convulsing tightly around a sad, empty space as you came. If only you didn’t wish it was August choked between them instead.

As you slumped down, sweaty and breathless, he drawled a growl of content and slowly withdrew the gun to hold it next to your shivering face.

“I swear, Sloan’s assistants keep getting sluttier every year; the last one I fucked had a thing for me choking her,” he mocked while grazing the wet barrel against your cheek, “do you think you’d be into that too, sweetling? My hand around your throat?”

Rounding your eyes in utter fear, you swallowed the dryness in your throat. August sighed with a malicious little grin while twisted awe danced between the blue, sparkling sapphires that examined you ecstatically, so fascinated by how easily he managed to break and bend you to his will.

Still holding the neck of the gun pressed next to your cheek, he reached the other hand above your head. A part of you was relieved for a moment, thinking he was about to untie the bind.

But your hope quickly died as you felt his fingers rolling the ring that decorated your finger.

The diamond reflected onto the deep blue of his eyes as he examined it closely before throwing it directly into the fireplace.

“No!” You cried out brokenly, as the last memory of your old life disappeared in flames.

“Save your tears beautiful,” August retorted, his voice once again so soft it chilled your very core. He shifted his entire weight between your straddled thighs, and leaned in to kiss the wetness below your eye, “you won’t be needing it anymore.”

His tongue slipped out to collect the briny liquid that gathered on your cheek, and another hum of delight rumbled in his chest as his covered cock unmistakably ground against your mound, “I am your man from now on, might as well accept it and let me do whatever I want.”

Shivering under him, you took a deep breath, your body already swaying in demand as you felt him throbbing beneath the soft fabric of his pants. To your own horror, your head fell into a slow nod of shameful consent.

It wasn’t just August you were afraid of, but also for yourself.

#henry cavill #August Walker #august walker x reader #henry cavill x reader #august walker fanfiction #august walker x you #dark!fanfiction

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geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde · 3 years

Text

Let It Be Me

Hello all! It’s finally time to post my Novigrad Exchange fic! Big thanks to @ohnomybreadsticks and @jaskiersvalley for taking the time to organize this! <3 And of course thanks again to Socks for the beta help <3 <3

This is for the incredibly talented @journeythroughunknownlands

Geralt overdoses on potions and the most efficient way to burn them off is with an orgasm (or two... or more). Queue Jaskier, loyal best friend who is always willing to lend a helping hand (or other body part 😏). Seasoned with a hearty sprinkle of pining.

This will be cross posted on AO3 later today.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: frottage, blow jobs, anal sex, bottom Geralt, multiple orgasms, pining, requited feelings, happy/hopeful ending

3.9k words

Geralt felt the potions burning their way through his veins, lighting him on fire; he had taken too many. The endrega colony was much smaller than anticipated and the fight was much shorter than it would have been otherwise, far too short of a fight to help him burn off the toxins in his blood.

His skin felt pulled tight, and he knew just what he would look like. His paler than normal complexion would be marred with black veins, his eyes would look like pots of ink, the color of ichor, he would look every bit of the monster humans thought him to be.

Fuck, if he didn’t find a good way to let off some steam and work this out of his system, this would take hours to wear off. He was out of White Honey and didn’t have any honey suckle on hand to make more, and he doubted he would be able to find any.

Looking around the clearing he was in, he quickly dismissed the idea of getting himself off. He was painfully hard in his trousers, and a quick wank would be the most efficient way to burn through the toxins, but this wasn’t the place for it. There was far too much noise in this particular forest, making him wonder what curious creatures would come to investigate. He also didn’t bring any of his… toys with him. He didn’t need them, of course, but they made things a bit more enjoyable and typically sped up the process. No, he needed to get back to town and figure something else out. It was unlikely he would be able to find a whore willing to lay with him, no matter the coin offered, and he really didn’t have much to offer.

He could always try to sleep through it or take care of himself back in his room where his toys were, though that would mean making his way through the inn looking like he did, if the innkeep would even let him up to his room.

Sighing and deciding that he really had no good option, he turned, his trophies in hand, and began the trek through the dense trees back to town.

Geralt really should have stayed in the forest. He had known better but ignored the small voice in the back of his head trying to talk sense into him. Instead, he allowed himself to return to town despite everything he ever learned at Kaer Morhen, despite every bit of real-life experience reminding him that exposing himself to humans in this state was an awful idea.

If the toxins in his blood felt like fire, the horrified stares were even worse, like daggers stabbing into his already sensitive skin.

Thankfully, he managed to get to the inn without incident, despite the stares, despite the hatred and fear he could smell emanating from everyone he passed. And despite the shocking waves of pain and pleasure shooting through him as he walked with his erection straining against his trousers. The silence in the inn was unsettling though, all speech coming to a halt as he stepped through the door, and he had to push down a wave of embarrassment, knowing that everyone would be able to see his erection. Silence, though, meant he wasn’t being kicked out and allowed him to make his way up the stairs and to his room.

His room that he was sharing with Jaskier.

Fuck.

He hadn’t thought about it until he opened the door, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Jaskier’s presence had become such a normal and routine part of his life that he hadn’t even thought about the bard being there, about having to deal with Jaskier in this state.

There was no way he would be able to stay in the room like this. He had to fight back his arousal for the bard in the best of times, and this couldn’t be called the best of anything. The bard’s scent was already one that intoxicated him, and now with all of his senses heightened, there would be no way he could stay in the room with him, it would be pure torture if he tried. Quickly making up his mind as Jaskier stared at him in surprise, Geralt stomped across the room to grab his bag of toys, there was no chance he would be able to ride this out with Jaskier not even ten feet away, smelling and looking the way he did.

Geralt could hear Jaskier’s voice clearly, though his racing mind couldn’t parse out the words. He could smell the bard’s confusion, hear it in the tone of his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to even grunt out an explanation as he made his way back to the door. All Geralt could focus on was the sudden need to go back out to the woods and take care of himself. It had been a long while since he had last gotten the opportunity to use some of his favorite toys, so he might as well make the best of an awful situation.

As he reached for the knob on the door, he felt a sudden tug on the bag in his hand and he spun around just as it ripped, the contents spilling on the floor. Geralt couldn’t think of a time in which he had more desperately wished it was true what they say about witchers, that they felt no emotions. Geralt let out a frustrated growl, the absolute mortification within him warring with the anger he was feeling at Jaskier for trying to stop him just led to more desperation for a fix to his situation. He had just wanted to escape the inn and take care of himself, solve the problem in the relative privacy of the woods, but no, nothing ever went that simply for him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was tentative in a way that it normally wasn’t, far more hesitant than the rather direct bard ever bothered being. Geralt’s eyes snapped up to meet Jaskier’s as the witcher willed himself to remain calm. He was sure his face would be turning red from embarrassment if it wasn’t for the poison affecting his complexion and he sent off a silent thanks to whoever was listening that at least he was spared from that.

“Geralt? Are you okay?”

Geralt wasn’t sure he understood what Jaskier was asking. He had expected Jaskier to be more afraid of him in this state, having never seen his reaction to taking potions before, and far more concerned by the toys now scattered across the floor, rather than if he was okay.

“Fine,” he finally grunted out, hoping Jaskier would stop looking at him with such concern. It wasn’t a look that he needed directed at him, he would be fine if he could just leave.

“Fine?” Jaskier squeaked, “You don’t look fine! You look like you’re dying! Geralt, are you poisoned? Are you dying? Can I help? What do I need to do?”

Taking a deep breath and nearly choking on the scent of the bard, even more overwhelming this close, Geralt finally managed to motion to the floor, littered with his rather extensive collection, “Potions. Those… help.” There was no way he would be able to say more, not about this subject, not in his current state. Possibly not ever.

He watched as Jaskier stared at him consideringly before looking down at the floor, and then back up at Geralt. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, but Geralt didn’t know how to explain it any better.

Jaskier reached up, touching at Geralt’s face hesitantly, “This is because of your potions?” Geralt nodded, leaning into the touch. It was just this side of too much but it felt so good.

Humming softly, Jaskier glanced back at the floor, “And those… help?”

Geralt nodded again, still relishing in the contact of Jaskier’s hand pressing gently against his face. There were so many feelings thrumming through him, embarrassment and worry and arousal but Jaskier’s touch seemed to almost calm them. Unfortunately, it seemed that it couldn’t last and Jaskier pulled away, making Geralt whimper at the loss.

“How do they help?” Jaskier asked as he knelt down in front of Geralt. The witcher watched in horror as Jaskier meticulously gathered the contents of the now destroyed bag before placing them on the small table in their room. “Is it something about the toys themselves? Or is it just the… result.”

Geralt could feel his throat closing up as he choked out, “Result.”

Watching Geralt closely, Jaskier made his way back across the room, concern still written clearly across his features, “Where were you going?”

“Woods.”

“Do you… normally take care of this in the woods?”

“Yes,” Geralt felt just as weak as his voice sounded suddenly, he felt exposed like a raw nerve and it hurt.

“Can I help you?”

Geralt felt his entire body seize up as his mind slowly caught up with Jaskier’s question. Letting out a whine, he found himself reaching out for Jaskier before he even knew what he was doing, before he had even made a conscious decision.

Jaskier stepped closer, allowing himself to be wrapped in Geralt’s arms as the witcher buried his face in Jaskier’s neck. The bard smelled so fucking good and Geralt wanted this so badly, had wanted it for years. But Jaskier didn’t, surely. Geralt should let go.

But Jaskier’s hands were suddenly trailing up and down Geralt’s back comfortingly, and Geralt couldn’t let go, it felt amazing, like nothing he had ever allowed himself to experience before, and he couldn’t give it up. With any luck, the bard wouldn’t hate him for his actions tomorrow.

Inhaling deeply and letting the bard’s scent wash over him, Geralt made up his mind. He would get whatever he could from Jaskier tonight and then spend the rest of his life making it up to the bard.

He felt Jaskier start to pull back and he only gripped harder, clenching Jaskier’s doublet in his hands. Jaskier made a soft sound, “Hey, it’s okay, but we should take this over to the bed, okay?”

Geralt could hear the logic in Jaskier’s words, but he didn’t want to let go. Instead, he shuffled forward slowly, his face still buried in Jaskier’s neck, until he could feel the impact as the back of Jaskier’s knees hit the mattress. He urged Jaskier back on the bed, settling himself into Jaskier’s side, still hiding his face.

Jaskier’s hands began running through Geralt’s hair, making the witcher let out a purr and Jaskier chuckle, “I always knew you liked your hair played with. Is this what you want, darling? To lay here and cuddle until you feel better? Or do you want more?” Geralt didn’t think he would ever want to let go, but he needed more. As nice as this felt, he could still feel his cock, hard and heavy and uncomfortably pressed against his pants.

Whispering his answer, Geralt practically begged for more.

Suddenly, Geralt found himself on his back, Jaskier hovering over him. The bard’s scent was now tinged heavily with his own arousal and Geralt couldn’t hold back another whine as he bucked his hips, seeking friction. Jaskier smirked down at him, lowering his body until they were pressed against each other. Geralt could feel Jaskier’s own hardness pressed against his and he groaned out at the sensation. How many nights had he dreamed of this same thing? Of being pressed up underneath Jaskier, desperate for pleasure to be wrung from him, at the mercy of Jaskier’s talented hands.

And mouth.

Gods, he’d had so many fantasies about the bard’s mouth, taking him apart, bringing him damn near to tears. And now here he was, with all of those fantasies in arms reach. His lust had completely fogged his brain, completely overpowering the potion-induced fire in his veins, replacing it with an even more powerful burn.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jaskier asked, his voice low.

All Geralt could do was nod, his hips still grinding up desperately into Jaskier’s. The fire was raging inside him now, completely overwhelming him. He wasn’t sure exactly how Jaskier managed to get both of their clothes off, but the next thing he knew they were pressed together, skin to skin. Geralt was crying out from the sensations, both too much and not enough, as Jaskier kept talking to him. The whispered words doused the fire just for a moment until Jaskier’s lips chased his words, reigniting the fire to burn even brighter. Geralt had never understood poets when they said they had found themselves out of their mind with pleasure but then again, he had never experienced this.

He was unbelievably hard, his cock ached and throbbed where it lay, pressed between him and Jaskier. It could have been seconds or hours that he spent rocking against Jaskier for friction before he found himself so very close to the edge of orgasm.

Jaskier licked a stripe up Geralt’s neck to nip at his ear, “That’s right, Geralt, take what you need. You look so beautiful like this, just take what you need.” It was Jaskier’s words, whispered like a filthy secret in his ear, that finally tipped him over just as he asked, “Are you going to cum for me?”

Geralt let out a mewl as his body shook under Jaskier, his orgasm hot and intense, feeling as though it may never end. He felt hazy almost, the once intense fire settling down to a manageable smolder even as Jaskier trailed kisses down his body. Watching closely, Geralt found himself enraptured at the man above him, groaning as Jaskier continued down, licking up Geralt’s spend as he went.

“Fuck, Jask,” he gasped out as the bard continued on, his tongue lapping at Geralt’s still hard cock.

The bard smirked, “Ready for another round so soon?”

“The… potions. They keep me… excited.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to work them out of your system.”

Any response Geralt might have thought of was lost as Jaskier promptly wrapped his lips around the head of Geralt’s cock. Geralt could barely stop himself from thrusting forward, fucking into Jaskier’s mouth. It looks so pretty, stretched obscenely around Geralt as he bobbed up and down.

Geralt gasped as he felt a finger probing at his hole, circling it slowly, applying a slight pressure but never pushing in. Just as suddenly as the contact had started, it stopped, Jaskier pulling his mouth away as well, making him keen, his arms already reaching toward the bard, desperate. “It’s okay, darling. Let me just get some oil, okay? This will be much more enjoyable that way.”

Oil. Right. If he was going to be fucked, then oil would make it better. That made perfect sense to Geralt, but still he followed Jaskier’s form greedily and he hurried over to the odds and ends now strewn across the table in their room, picking up a small bottle, and heading back over to the bed, a small smile on his face as he positioned himself between Geralt’s legs.

Geralt made a satisfied noise as Jaskier set a hand on his thigh, stroking up and down, “Is this what you want darling, what you need? Want me to fuck you?”

“Please.” The plea was ripped from Geralt’s throat almost as if it weren’t him speaking. But it was him and he had never before felt so desperate. He wanted Jaskier fucking into him, wanted their bodies writhing together. He wanted the best kind of fire back, lust and passion burning his veins as he looked into Jaskier’s eyes. Fuck.

Thankfully, Jaskier needed nothing more from Geralt, and wasted no time, slicking his fingers and going back to toying with him, “Look at you, so needy for this, I bet I could slip right into you with no prep.”

Fuck, Geralt couldn’t help but groan, “Please, anything, please.”

“Shh it’s okay, soon. I want to make this good for you,” Jaskier’s voice was soft as he leaned forward, locking his lips with Geralt’s as he pushed a finger inside. He hadn’t been wrong, Geralt took the finger easily, more than ready for the feeling. Rocking his hips, Geralt searched for more.

Pulling back and smiling at Geralt, Jaskier’s eyes crinkled up at the corners in the way that always made Geralt want to smile with him. “Are you feeling good? Ready for more?”

Geralt tried to speak, he really did, but all that came out was a needy sound as he ground down on Jaskier’s hand.

“I’ve got you, darling, I’ve got you.” Soon after, Jaskier was pressing another finger inside him, thrusting in and out and it was so good Geralt could do nothing but pant and whine as he moved in time with Jaskier, seeking his own pleasure.

It was so good but it was still just a tease of what was to come.

“Jaskier, please, fuck. Fuck me.”

“Okay, just one last thing.” Before Geralt could even register the sentence, Jaskier had leaned down, wrapping his lips around Geralt’s cock again, just as he curled his fingers, pressing against that spot inside him.

Geralt cried out, his body shaking as he came so hard he saw stars. Relaxing back onto the bed, Geralt whimpered helplessly as Jaskier released him, his fingers slipping from his hole.

“Do you still want more?”

Opening his eyes was a struggle but he managed after a moment, shooting a glare at Jaskier, “Fuck me.”

Jaskier chuckled, “Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it, then.”

Geralt watched in a daze as Jaskier pumped his own cock, covering it with slick. The man was large and it would certainly be a stretch. His own cock was already hard again, twitching as he thought about how good that would feel inside of him. Moving forward, Jaskier lined up and began to push in, gasping as he did so.

It had been so long since Geralt had been fucked. Typically when he was out wandering the continent, all he had with him to relieve this particular want was his bag of toys, and fuck it felt so much better when it was the real thing.

Geralt watched as Jaskier sunk into him, their hips meeting softly as Jaskier panted above him. The stretch was amazing, just the right amount of pressure to make it overwhelmingly good. Geralt tried to stay still, he did, but after a while he had to move. The roll of his hips pulled a grunt from Jaskier as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Just a moment, fuck, you’re tight.” Jaskier was breathless, gasping out his words, sweat beading on his brow.

Geralt had never seen him look more amazing.

Jaskier began thrusting in and out of him slowly, the burn of the stretch and the feeling of fullness sending sparks of pleasure through Geralt. It wasn’t long before Jaskier sped up, shifting more until finally, he moved just right, drawing a yelp out of Geralt as he hit his prostate. A smirk lit up Jaskier’s face as he pulled out and thrust back in, his aim precise as he once again hit that same spot again and again. The bard kept going, sending Geralt into a frenzy of begging and crying out. The fingers of Geralt’s hand were threaded with Jaskier’s, held down above his head. Geralt’s other hand was gripping at Jaskier’s back, his fingers digging into the soft skin as Jaskier kept thrusting.

“Won't- last,” Jaskier gasped, his free hand coming up to wrap around Geralt’s cock.

It was likely only seconds but it felt like hours when finally he felt himself falling again, his orgasm rushing through him, his body relaxing into a boneless mess as Jaskier thrust once, twice more, freezing his motions and shaking as he spent inside of Geralt, finally collapsing on top of him.

“I don’t know if I can move,” Jaskier said, his voice muffled from where he had buried his head in Geralt’s chest.

“Mmm. Don’t.”

“Okay.”

And then Geralt was asleep.

The first thing Geralt noticed was how dry his mouth was. It wasn’t unusual, not after a hunt. His potions would have that effect on him most of the time, particularly if he struggled with burning them off. He went to shift, suddenly noticing the heavy weight on top of him. Opening his eyes, Geralt couldn’t see anything but a mop of brown hair. Inhaling deeply as he tried to gain awareness of his surroundings, he was assaulted with the scent of Jaskier and himself and sex.

Oh fuck.

Geralt shifted slightly under Jaskier, making the bard startle awake on top of him. Jaskier seemed to gain awareness quickly, rolling off of Geralt quickly, his cheeks blooming a brilliant red on his otherwise pale face.

“Ah,” Jaskier cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the room, “good morning. I trust you’re feeling better.”

Geralt nodded, sitting up and reaching for the pitcher beside the bed, drinking straight from it. He felt some of the water spill out, dripping down his naked chest, but paid it no mind as he tried to wash the dryness from his throat.

Fuck. He really came back to the inn with potions burning through him and let himself fuck Jaskier. Well, let himself be fucked by Jaskier. Well… begged to be fucked by Jaskier.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Putting down the now empty pitcher, Geralt shot a furtive look at Jaskier, feeling the guilt pooling in his stomach. Jaskier was loyal to a fault, something Geralt had taken for granted for so long, and now here he was, after a night of going out of his way doing something he had no interest in doing, looking at Geralt with nothing but concern for the witcher. Jaskier was too good for Geralt, he didn’t deserve to have to deal with situations like this.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier looked taken aback, “For what?”

“Making you feel like you had to help me last night. I appreciate it but… I’m sorry.”

“I… Geralt I offered to help. I never felt obligated and you never did anything to make me.”

It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it? Geralt’s needs had been far more than anyone could be expected to help with. Jaskier should have sent him on his way and spared himself the trouble.

“Geralt?” Jaskier said softly, moving closer and reaching up to cup Geralt’s cheek, “Thank you for trusting me with this. I’m glad I could help you.”

Whether it was the earnest sound of Jaskier’s voice or maybe just Geralt’s need to believe that someone really did want to be there for him, he was unsure. All he knew was that he never wanted to break Jaskier’s gaze. His eyes were so incredibly blue, bright pools of crystal clear water begging for someone to dive in and Geralt found himself ready to jump.

Before he noticed what was happening, Geralt had already leaned into Jaskier, making his eyes widen, surprise written across his face. But he didn’t pull back. No, Jaskier’s eyes flicked down to Geralt’s lips before once again meeting Geralt’s gaze. Geralt wasn’t sure if it was him or Jaskier that initiated the all encompassing kiss that followed, all he knew was it was something he had wanted for so long and felt so right.

Maybe, next time potions were burning through his veins and he wanted to crawl out of his skin, Jaskier would meet him and apply this affection like a balm, soothing Geralt in a way he had never before experienced. Maybe from this moment forward, he wouldn’t wait for Jaskier to realize he deserved better and move on. Maybe, just maybe, Geralt had really found happiness.

Check out my masterlist!

Tag list: @stinastar @feraljaskier @bastardofmothman @hailhailsatan @moonysrz @its-onions @elliestormfound @dapandapod @jaskierswolf @fontegagrilledcheese @negativenuggetz @veritasrose @feral-jaskier @kozkaboi @kueble @llamasdumpsterfire @selectivegeekwithstandards @dani-dandelino @holymotherwolf

#novigrad exchange #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #the witcher fandom #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier

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gothamcityangst · 3 years

Note

(I’m awful at remembering which ones you’ve done before so feel free to ignore this if you’ve already answered one like this!)

What do you think would happen if one of the rogues (preferably Edward, Jonathan or Jervis) had ‘cleaned up their act’ then ended up relapsing into being a villain again? I could see a lot of angst just surrounding the whole internal conflict of trying to get better vs still being treated like a villain.

Bonus points if they’re trying it on their own without really warning anyone so they still have to worry about the police/batman which adds a whole second layer to their issue!

NOW, THIS IS SOME GOOD CONTENT! You're fine! I think I've only touched on it but never really gone in-depth.

I'll do all three because I love the dork squad!!!

JONATHAN

Jonathan relapses because it's impossible for him to find a job outside of Halloween. They purposefully released him around Halloween thinking he'd be stable. And he was. Until November 1st. After his Halloween charm has worn off he tries to apply to teaching jobs again. It obviously doesn't work. He gets set up working in a library that hires offenders. It works for Jon for a little while, he can spend his days mostly alone with a cup of coffee and pumpkin pie while reading a good horror novel. Jonathan feels content until he falls into a routine. A routine which quickly turns sour when people cop onto who he really is. He gets Karen's yelling at him, he gets books thrown at his head as he's trying to work and he can't go a single day without someone verbally abusing him.

This leads Jon into a depression spiral. The Library job is nice but with the constant abuse from 'civilised' members of the public he can't truly enjoy it. The Scarecrow was the only thing that brings him genuine joy and pleasure. Scarecrow is like his other half and without him he feels incomplete. He starts to miss his work shifts in favour of staying in his home and looking after his little pet crow.

Jon snaps one day. It isn't any one thing in particular that sets him off he just decides he's had enough. He drowns the library in fear toxin and runs out manically screaming. He knows he'll be sent back but he doesn't care. He will take all the jailtime in the world if it means he doesn't have to deal with his depression again.

EDWARD

Edward is the quickest to relapse. It can't be helped that Gotham is full of idiots. He tried to capatalise on his fame as an ex supervillian and it worked for a bit. He'd get interviews, sponsorships and attention. He loved being in the spotlight and genuinely it was very good for him. It fulfilled his need for positive attention.

When the attention moves onto newer and shinier people that's when he started to slip. He tried his best to regain his post release fame but it never happened. He tried to collaborate with puzzle makers but most didn't want to touch him with a 10ft pole. Ed is so busy with trying to get his fame back he starts to miss more and more of his therapy sessions, his mental health reverts back and this time its even worse. The higher they rise the harder they fall as the saying goes. He goes down the douchy celebrity route of being a dick to people and getting into fights. Bad attention is better then none at all. When he realizes he's become the main focus of trash media outlets he sinks further and further.

One night he see an interview with the Joker on TV and that's the final straw. One death trap later and he finds himself in the back of the Batmobile with a broken arm and black eye. Batman actually expresses sever disappointment in him. Edward expresses he has enough disappointment for the both of them.

When the Batmobile pulls up to Arkham there's not a single reporter in sight and Ed is silently destoryed.

JERVIS

Jervis would last the longest out of all of them before relapsing. He'd be working in a small store. He relapses because too many things would remind him of Alice in Wonderland. The small grocery store he was placed in has a small frumpy woman who shouts till she's red in the face. There's another ex rogue named Temple whose obsessed with keeping track of time. And of course a teenage employee who's always smoking behind the store like Absolem the caterpiller.

Jervis is prone to getting abuse from the police seeing as he mind controlled a lot of their 'brothers in blue'. The cops come in for doughnuts and they always pick on him when they come into the store. The store is well known for hiring ex cons so they're aware they can get away with abusing employees. He comes home from many a shift with coffee creamer in his hair and a soup tin sized bruise on his back.

Jervis is trying so damn hard. He's trying harder then he ever has before in his life. With the combination of the cops and his coworkers he comes to a realization. He hates the real world. The real world is cold and callous and cruel. Jervis much prefers to go back to his own perfect Wonderland. And if going back to his Wonderland means have to go back to Arkham then that was the toll he was willing to pay.

His story ends with him being hauled back to Arkham after mind controlling everyone in the store and executing the vicious officers who were so needlessly cruel to him.

#THIS ONE WAS SO FUN TO WRITE #Jonathan Crane #The Scarecrow #Edward Nygma #The Riddler #Jervis Tetch #The Mad Hatter #Dork Squad #Angst #G-C-A

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kim-miyeon · 3 years

Text

Hell Above-Chapter Thirteen

PAIRINGS: Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Series contains mature content. read at your own discretion. Mafia!AU, explicit language, murder, fighting scenes, abuse, pregnancy, family issues, mild abuse, angst, 18+

WORD COUNT: 4K

Previous | Next

A Match Into Water

“He’s lying.”

You stood in the hospital room, arms crossed, biting down on your thumb as Felix spoke. All five of you had come to Jeongin’s side the morning after you reconnected with Hyunjin. The conversation left you shaken.

“What do you mean? Your father killed mine. That has always been --”

“My father didn’t order that massacre. He wasn’t aware about it until after it was done.”

“Well, if not your father then who…”

“Chan’s father. He carried out the massacre…”

You felt your head grow dizzy and Hyunjin held you tighter in fear that you were overwhelmed. And you were.

“Why didn’t your father… I mean..how could it have been..”

“I don’t know. Their relationship is so rocky, but I think my father had taken the blame for it, to protect my uncle.”

You stood there, mind airy. Heart weakened. All this time, you believed that it was Hyunjin’s father who had slain your parents. That he murdered your

, in cold blood. The gruesome murder that had no respect for human life. And not only you, but you aunts and uncles all died in the same house.

You had just come clean to everyone as Minho and Seungmin were sitting down watching as all of you were debriefing from the new found information.

“Why would I lie?” Hyunjin spoke up at Felix as he stood next to you.

It was a moment. All of you in the face of a Hwang, a mortal enemy. Felix growing timid to the new found information that this relationship was extremely real, your pregnancy, everything in between. Now being told that his mother died at the hands of another Hwang.

“Why would he lie to me?” You asked Felix who looked at you distressed. You pleaded through your eyes to have some kind of civilized conversation.

“It doesn’t make sense, the massacre was done by the Hwang Family. Hyunjin’s father was the leader.” Felix continued at you.

“Obviously it’s a touchy subject for everyone,” Seungmin chimed in removing Felix’s attention from you and Hyunjin to him as you looked up at Hyunjin who looked at you.

“I just don’t understand..” Jeongin spoke over the tension and you looked at him as he spoke.

“What don’t you understand?” Minho asked.

“If Chan’s father carried out the attack, then why did grandfather tell us that it was Hyunjin’s father?” Jeongin’s words made your heart stop.

“Well, my father took the blame..” Hyunjin began and you stared at the floor feeling the blood in your veins run cold.

“But grandfather survived the massacre. He was in the mansion at the time. He was the only one who survived.” Jeongin innocently stated and you felt anxious and jittery.

Jeongin was beginning to shed light on a new found idea. Why was your grandfather the only one to have survived that massacre? Why did you grow up believe Hyunjin’s father killed your own? If your grandfather was there, wouldn’t he have known who would have committed a crime? Or has he been innocent all this time?

Something in the pit of your stomach was telling you to go. To go find out. The truth was itching at you and you looked up at Jeongin and then turned to Hyunjin.

“I have to go.” You said as you walked out of the hospital room and Hyunjin called out from behind you.

You started walking towards the exit as you felt a hand grab yours suddenly pulling you back around. Hyunjin’s soft face looked at yours as you looked at him, mind completely taken over by your new found mission.

“Where are you going?” Hyunjin’s voice brought you back into your center, his large hand caressing your cheek softly as you looked up at him. He was so intoxicating, he could remove all the toxins of the world around you and make you feel light. You smiled softly and nudged into his hand.

“To see your father.”

He pulled back slowly looking at you changing his epiression. “What?”

“Hey!” Minho’s voice came from behind Hyunjin’s body as you both looked at him, “What’s going on?”

Minho looked at you, “ Where are you going?”

“I need to go find out the truth.” You sternly said.

“My father won’t speak to you Y/N. He is very--” Hyunjin began and you grabbed his hand comfortingly and smiled.

“But he will speak to you. Come with me.” You then looked at Minho, “You too.”

“Go to the Hwangs? Are you crazy?” Minho asked shockingly.

“Hyun-Woo knows more than he’s sharing. And for the sake of myself and…” You looked down at your stomach, “ and my family. I need to know.”

The two stood silent in front of you and you sighed.

“None of us asked to be here. We have a chance to create peace with my family. I will stop at nothing to make sure peace is established. “ You stated and Hyunjin gripped your hand harder as you turned your gaze to him.

“Okay. We will come.”

*******************************************************************************************

Hyunjin drove up on the gravel road as you stared at the large extravagant home that pulled your vision and caught you in a mouth agape.

“Wow…” you whispered at the beauty of the home.

“Pretty right?” Hyunjin chuckled and you nodded.

“You grew up here?” you looked at him and Hyunjin sighed.

“I promise you it wasn’t as great as you may think it was.”

Once Hyunjin made a completely stop in front of the large stairs of the mansion, men with assault rifles began to take a stance as Hyunjin turned the car off. He shifted to you and Minho and nodded.

“Stay with me. Give them your guns. They won’t hurt you.” You nodded at Hyunjin and Minho agreed as all three of you opened up the doors and you stepped out of the car.

“HANDS UP!” A soldier yelled pointing his rifle at you and Minho. You obliged to the soldier as Hyunjin began to clear the air.

“They are with me. Lower your weapons.” Hyunjin demanded and the soldier looked at him in confusion, slowly backing away from you and Minho as you inhaled deeply.

“Give them your weapons.” Hyunjin demanded and you side eyed him. You lowered your hands as he walked over to you and leaned his head down at you, “Keep your hands up.”

Hyunjin’s hand patted you down over your sides until they landed on your holster, above your guns and you smiled at him. He leaned in closer and whispered in your ear.

“Don’t crumble under my touch so quickly Ms. Lee.”

“Don’t underestimate my self control Mr. Hwang.” You winked at him as he removed your weapon, and removed the magazine and handed it to a soldier.

Minho looked over to you and leaned over, “Is he going to do that to me?:

You glared at Minho as he snickered before lowering his hands to grab his own gun to hand it to the soldiers.

Hyunjin nudged the both of you up the stairs as you followed him throughout the large mansion. You walked through the long hallways of the Hwang mansion, taking in the atmosphere of a world you had never been so exposed to. Large paintings of the generations of leaders and families of the Hwang family coated the gold accent interiors. You looked at Minho who was also taking in all of the sight and you sighed. Hyunjin looked back at you as you two began to approach the large door.

Hyunjin stopped and looked at the both of you as he groaned a bit.

“Don’t mention the pregnancy. Or our relationship. I don’t know how he might….react.”

You looked closely at Hyunjin and he smiled at you as he turned to knock on the door.

“Come in” A faint low voice came from the inside and Hyunjin pushed open the door to reveal a beautifully crafted and lit office space, with Hyun-Woo sitting at his desk, completely indulging in an assignment. He looked up quickly and glanced at Hyunjin but then reacted faster when he realized Hyunjin wasn't alone. He stood up and grabbed the glasses of his face as his face grew worrisome.

“Lee Y/N. Are you here to finish what you began?” Hyun-woo asked and you looked at him innocently.

“I am not here to harm you or your family. I come seeking answers.”

Hyun-woo shifted his gaze to Hyunjin and looked at him confusingly, “You brought them here?”

“There’s alot of misunderstanding father. We just want to set the record straight.”

“What record?” Hyun-woo’s voice grew stern and you stepped forward.

“The massacre of Lee Won-Shik. Were you there?” You asked and Hyun-woo looked at you and inhaled deeply squinting his eyes at you.

“Father, please.” Hyunjin asked almost craving the answer as much as you.

Hyun-woo cleared his throat, “ No. I wasn’t”

“It was your brother. Chan’s father, wasn’t it?” Minho asked and Hyun-Woo walked over to the front of his desk slowly and nodded his head.

“Why are you asking?”

“MY grandfather used me to take out revenge against your family, by murdering Hyunjin. You took the blame so I needed to know if what he saw that night was true or not.”

“I wondered the same thing, when Yeji told me about everything. Why your grandfather grew so obsessed as to harm my own flesh and blood when it wasn’t I who slayed his son.” Hyun-woo looked at you and you were entranced into the story.

“Your father spoke of peace. Unification between all the families of the network. His goal was to include The Hwangs and end generations of hatred and senseless murder. We spoke briefly about setting up a meeting to discuss options for growth. I was interested in building peace. Both families were strong economically, and power. But the next thing I knew, your father was reported dead. The whole family nearly gone.

“Except..” you whispered.

“Your grandfather.” you and Minho exchanged a gaze and you furrowed your brows.

“He survived the massacre though.” You stated.

“Without a scratch on his body.” Hyun-woo said and you were taken aback.

:That can’t be true, he has a --”

“Gunshot wound scar in his side? Not from the massacre.” Hyun-Woo stated.

“So why did you cover for uncle?” Hyunjin spoke and Hyun-Woo sighed and looked at him.

“I was the leader at the time, I represented the Hwang family and it was my duty. But, I did not agree with the massacre. I didn’t know that Won Shik birthed a child and that she would be standing here with my son.”

You looked at Hyunin who looked back at you and Hyun Woo cleared his throat again.

“Y/N. There’s a lot of history and information I think has been suppressed from you. I advise you to go to your grandfather and ask him about all of this.” Hyun-Woo spoke and you shook your head.

“Are you implying that my grandfather has lied to me?”

“ I am implying that your grandfather has played far too many parts in your disaster than you realize.”

You looked at Minho and back to Hyun-Woo. You nodded in gratitude and you glanced at Hyunjin as he nodded as you left the room with Minho, both of you in the same mindset. Once outside the door you exhaled.

“Minho, grandfather certainly could not have lied to us, right? He wouldn’t put Jeongin through that.” You almost felt sick at the thought of that man and Minho paced slowly.

“Hyun-Woo is also suspicious. We need to go to Grandfather’s chambers.”

“We cannot go there. It’s off limits to anyone.” You spoke and Minho gripped your shoulders firmly.

“He’s hiding something. Think about it Y/N. Nothing is adding up anymore.”

Hyunjin then opened the door to the study and joined your two in the hallway. He looked ghostly and you grew worried as you walked to him and let your hands caress his neck.

“Are you okay?” You asked as Hyunjin looked into your eyes, and he leaned in to place a small peck on your lips.

“Never been better.” He smiled at you and you nodded kissing him again softly.

“Minho and I are going to go to grandfather’s chambers. I think you should stay behind for this one.” You advised and Hyunjin face grew understanding mixed with worry.

“I’ll drive you both. Let’s go. “

*****************************************************************************************

You and Minho began to walk up the dark hallways that lead to the chamber. Ahead you saw two guards outside the door and you grew incredibly nervous as many memories returned to your mind of the hallways and the office you were approaching. The guards began to take a defense stance as you two had neared and you paused.

“Y/N what’s wrong?” Minho asked and you looked at him in fear. You felt all the inner child feelings grow of being afraid to walk any closures and the guards were also prepared to place bullets between your eyes.

“I can’t.. Minho...I can’t-” Minho grabbed your hand and looked at you.

“No… you can. You have. And you will, understand?” Minho then slid his hand to your gun and you glanced down and watched him cock your weapon in your holster. You looked back at him and he nodded and you pressed your lips together. You sighed and you two began walking as you watched the guards step closer.

“Grandfather is not here. Please leave.”

“When will he be back?” Minho slyly asked and the guard cocked his head and Minho quickly reached for his gun and a sound of gunshots began going off as Minho leaned and grab the gun from the mans hand and elbowed him in the side of his head as the guard fell to the ground and Minho aimed his gun to place a bullet in the head of the guard. The other guard was unable to react as quickly after he aimed his weapon at you and you grabbed it, causing the trigger to be pulled and a shot fired ringing in your ears. You elbowed the man in the gut as he tried to fight you off. Minho then kicked the man from the side as you grabbed the gun from your holster and shot the man from the back, the bullet striking the back of his neck and he fell down instantly. You were breathing heavily and Minho looked at you and panicked.

“Quick, we have no time.” You two walked to the door and tried to budge it open, finding it to be locked.

“Fuck.” You cursed and you pushed Minho back, “Step back.”

You aimed your gun and fired a few shots against the side of the door where the lock was and used the force of your leg to kick the door open. Once the door slammed opened, you and Minho walked in and you saw the emptiness of the office. You looked at the duskiness of the book shelves and the dust collecting on the seats as Minho made his way to grandfathers desk and began rusting through the drawers and the papers.

“God this man doesn’t do anything but bitch and moan. Why does he have so much shit on his desk?” you heard Minho groan.

Your mind was taken to all the memories of you crying on the floor. Screaming echoing the office. You touched your face as you remembered every strike, kick, spit. This wasn't a chamber, or an office. It was your own personal torture dungeon, a piece of your hell. Your whole life created here, in this dungeon. Your purpose and your hiding created behind the walls of this underground place. You wish you could rewind the clocks and hold the small girl who was at the edge, walking on shattered glass.

“Y/N..” Minho’s voice pulling you back to reality, his face pushing you into a dark hole.

You walked over to him at the desk and you saw his eyes glance at you and down at the folder.

“Look at this.”

You looked down and saw photos and letters. Back and forth conversations and messages. Exchanges. Information about you, Jeongin, Minho, Seungmin, and Felix. All of you were exposed. To Yeji.

“He hired her…” You spoke softly and looked up at Minho, “ He sold us out.”

Minho then bit his lip, holding a sheet in his hand, “He sold everyone out.”

You grabbed the sheet from Minho and a picture of your father’s dead body was painted on it as the photo read, “Completed.”

“No..”

Minho began rummaging through the papers where he found your father’s picture and then you two jumped when the door slammed shut and your grandfather looked at you two and cleared his throat.

You saw red. You felt your blood boiling, bubbling in your veins.

“You two know you’re not supposed to be here.” his voice was slow. Nonchalant.

“You.” You gritted. “You hired Yeji. You let her provoke me. YOU LET HER HURT JEONGIN!” You raised your gun at your grandfather and Minho looked at you.

“Y/N..” Minho whispered.

“I was testing you.” your grandfather began, “and you failed. Like your father.”

“What did you do to my father? I know Hyun-Woo didn’t kill him .” You stepped forwards and threw the picture of your father at your grandfather, “Tell me the truth.”

“I have spoken the truth.”

“BULLSHIT! HOW DID YOU SURVIVE THAT MASSACRE?! YOU LIED ABOUT HYUN-WOO. ABOUT YEJI.”

“Y/N..” Minho whispered.

“WHAT!” You yelled at Minho and he was holding a phone transcript. YOu snatched it and looked at it quickly.

‘Tomorrow night. I will gather the family at the mansion.”

‘We will be there at twenty-one hundred.”

“Leave no body alive”

You looked up at your grandfather and you felt tears brimming your eyes.

“You killed your family.” You softly said as your grandfather just stood there looking at you, “Your two son, and three daughter. MY MOTHER. YOU SOLD THEM OUT. YOU TRAITOR!”

You fired your weapon at your grandfather's shoulders and he groaned in pain as Minho tried to calm you down.

‘I’LL KILL HIM! I SWEAR TO GOD.” You screamed.

“YOU BITCH! Your father was pathetic and couldn’t lead this family. PEACE? UNITY? FOOLISH!”

“You killed my mother!” You cried.

“AND I RAISED YOU BUT YOU HAVE FAILED ME OVER AND OVER AGAIN.” Your grandfather held onto his shoulders as Minho finally felt you calm down.

“Minho should have been the leader. He is capable, smart and dedicated. He would have completed the mission. I always knew your birth was a mistake, begged your father to try again. I put you up to the test, One I knew you couldn’t completed. Of course you couldn’t kill that boy. Women. They catch feelings, act out on their emotions. The cannot lead a family of this caliber. YOU cannot lead this family. Especially now...as you are with child. A child that shares the blood of both Lee and Hwang. Blasphemous.” Your grandfather spat at you and your eyes widened.

“There is nothing that you can hide from me Y/N. And as long as I live, a baby that shares Hwang blood will not be born into this world.”

You looked at your grandfather, overwhelmed and shocked. You were heartbroken because you couldn't believe that this whole life of yours had also been a lie and controlled by this man. You felt the pain in the pit of your stomach.

“Minho.” Your grandfather sternly said. Minho looking at you gleaned over to your grandfather and nodded, “You will perform an execution of Y/N.”

“Grandfather I cannot....” Minho began and Grandfather roared.

“You will do as I SAY. The night of the battle, we will go into execution of the real traitor of this family. The network will not allow this baby to be born. I will not allow this. Death is our option.”

A/N Aaaaaaaand that’s it! JK, we are going into the final chapters. I hope you are all ready. As always thank you for reading, let me know how you feel! Love you all very much.

Taglist: @hyunfeji @zenzedana @datura-inoxia@minaamhh @ninjaleeknow @beethiin @hyunsxle @hwangful @huntressfrost25 @exonations @p0t4t0don14ll @beaann

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

Text

just because you’re afraid it doesn’t mean you’re broken.

Titans 3.05

once more into the cold dark void of the internet with my stream-of-consciousness take on a superhero tv show...

spoilers ahead.

1. i cannot believe that among the first things i get to hear in this episode with my own two ears is the line 'eluded our overdudes'. why must you give me such pain along with so much joy, show?

1.5. scarecrow stringing jason along on this path to red-hood-dom is not something i would’ve ever expected, but does kind of make sense.

1.55. i don’t know all the details of the original resurrection arc in the comics but i like that jason, weirdly, has a greater role to play in his own demise and rebirth? i think it makes it easier to draw a line between his past trauma, the demonstrably shitty and terrifying responsibility of being robin, the ways bruce and the titans wronged him, his responses to that, the reasons he turns to scarecrow, and his final evolution to red hood. it makes for a smoother character arc rather than a one that was interrupted for two decades before somebody went oh hey let’s resurrect that kid that the audience once voted to kill and make him an anti-hero!

1.75. what’s crane giving him? anti fear toxin? anyway, crane is a fucking creep and i’m not sure i want to see a whole lot of him on my screen.

2. oh, um, heads up: there’s a long sequence of unsteady cam + flickering lights right after the title card upto the 3:16 mark. it’s a bit headache-inducing so if you want to skip, you can go ahead and do that.

2.45. that’s... weird... why would he dream about... donna...

ok, who am i kidding. i’m going to jump right into my theory about Why Titans Makes Sense Actually because the show itself is apparently not interested in explaining itself:

a) it makes no sense for jason to be conjuring up donna--who famously did not care much for him!--in his dreams. (he wasn’t even there when she died.) or for her to be telling him don’t go or there’s still time.

b) this leads me to think that that’s actually donna, in some sort of limbo between life and death, the kind of place where jericho used to be

c) rachel has demonstrated that she has the power to link the minds of the titans across great distances--she called jason and hank/dawn for help in 2.01, she linked up everybody later in the season, projected dick’s hallucination of his father into their brains without even realising she was doing it, and in the finale, she managed to get dick into conner’s brain. she’s in themyscira now. is this how she gets donna back to life? but reaching out to her in that non-space between life and death?

d) the next obvious question is: why isn’t donna appearing in the dreams of the other titans? she probably is, but they have better reason to be dreaming about her since they were actually close to her, unlike jason.

e) but why would she warn jason in particular? does she foresee jason entering the afterlife--however briefly? does she have an idea of what jason plans to do and what he will become?

f) anyway, more trippy mindscapes and weird psychic powers, yay!

2.5. my heart clenched when bruce comforted jason post-nightmare: clearly i’ve been reading way too much batfam fic. this is a side of bruce we haven’t really been told to expect by all the characters on the show calling him a ‘psychopath’ (*cough*unreliablenarrators*cough*) and him getting jason to speak to a professional speaks volumes about the kind of self-reflection he’s done post dick’s departure, and maybe some of the regrets he has with regards to how he dealt with dick’s traumas.

i mean, just look at him when jason dismisses his concerns! BRUCE IS TRYING JASON

anyway, i have a whole lot more i want to say about this, but i’ll save it for later.

also: LESLIE THOMPKINS!!!!

3. i really like molly--and i love that she’s a friend from before jason got taken in by bruce, the implication that they meet up regularly and that she’s a grounding influence on him (tho clearly not grounding enough to not go along with his dumbass idea about confronting a child trafficker alone).

3.5. aw, jason. robin was his armour against everything in the world that would throw him down and chew him to bits, but san francisco proved that even robin wasn’t enough to protect him. it’s really interesting how ‘disillusionment with the idea of robin’ is so integral to the traumas of both dick and jason but in such different ways.

4. LESLIE!!!!!!! i even forgive her office being so goddamn blue because leslie!

4.5. it makes so much sense for titans!verse leslie to be a therapist, because this show is so inward looking anyway, and therapist sessions are a useful tool to showcase this character work in a story. besides, at least in fanfic, leslie often seems to double up as a counsellor anyway.

4.6. oh man. i’m not terribly convinced by walters’ red hood (tho i think that may be the point--argh. i’ll come back to this thought later. have to stop getting distracted!) but he plays the asshole kid that’s trying not to let any real emotion seep through really well.

“you’d like me to punch you, wouldn’t you”

5. not sure what to think of batman’s little trophy case other than the show winking unsubtly at us and going look look - catwoman! the riddler! two face! you excited yet?! it’s like the scene from the end of amazing spiderman 2 when they were trying to drum up excitement for a sinister six spinoff by having harry osborne walk by a bunch of display cases with stuff from iconic villains in them.

... but then again, bruce does like to display a lot of shit in his batcave, including his dead robin’s bloodstained costume, so.

5.5. bruce is so soft with jason it’s killing me. beyond just trying to learn from his mistakes with dick, it speaks to his own genuine desire to balance his dedication to gotham with doing the best by his sons, although he’s often not successful with that.

i love that titans is really playing the long game with bruce wayne, with each season and character-perspective sliding in fresh pieces of a bigger puzzle. titans’ bruce has always been a phantom of other peoples’ making, but now we’re getting the idea that he’s a whole lot more complicated than other people make it seem.

5.75. it really recontextualises some of his actions from previous seasons: the fact that he locked dick out of his security systems in 1.06 is likely his way of respecting dick’s independence and his desire not to be associated with batman/gotham anymore. jason knowing about bruce’s tracker while dick doesn’t is probably bruce trying to be more honest and upfront with his charges. bruce sending jason packing off to sanfran to spend time with the titans is probably not him passing on a big responsibility to dick (as i first uncharitably thought) but him trying to get jason out of the toxic influence of gotham for a while and a sign of his trust in dick as a leader and a mentor,

5.8. i mean, bruce is a prick, but he’s also human.

6. i think leslie is doing some good work with jason here, though she may have overstepped the line with her line about robin as a construct being projected by a man with BPD. her speculations about bruce’s diagnosis have no place in her session with jason, and if bruce confides in her, an egregious violation of patient-therapist confidentiality.

(about the diagnosis itself... i don’t know. i can’t really confirm or refute this without a whole lot more information, and i’m not sure if the writer of this episode means BPD in the same way an actual professional might.)

6.5. i think a huge thing that gets missed out in a lot of recent comics as well as movies/shows is that bruce didn’t create the robin persona out of whole cloth. dick did. he’s the starting point of that legacy and to call it entirely bruce’s creation is blatant erasure of that. in fact, i’m surprised that dick doesn’t feature more in the conversations they’re having about the pressures of being robin. after all, the guy had been robin--bruce’s partner--for such a long time before jason.

6.8. (and here’s the primal part of me that resonates the deepest with dick grayson--the Eldest Daughter part--that’s sort of resentful: that jason gets the therapy and softness and the learning from mistakes when it took years and years for bruce to reach out in any meaningful way to dick.)

7. oooh that was a great scene!

it’s fun to do these stream-of-consciousness live reactions, because the moment you step down from your soapbox, the episode goes right into tackling what you were just complaining about. bruce means well, he’s learning, but he goes about exactly the wrong way to help jason: taking away robin now can’t be read by jason as anything but a devastating judgment call from bruce. and iain glen really sells the moment that bruce realises this--too late--and his helplessness in trying to get jason to see that it isn’t jason’s fault that he’s trying to do this. he loves jason enough that jason is enough.

7.5. aaaah so jason brings up the elephant in the room at last. dick got everything makes sense from his perspective, where getting to put on a costume and fight crime means approval, means being something stronger and better than you are. dick got to be robin, then nightwing, and a leader of a whole team of other costume-clad heroes.

8. ... how did jason just walk into arkham????? this is ridiculous.

8.3. i mean, clearly jason’s not thinking straight, but betraying batman like this puts his possibilities of being robin again even further away.

8.5. watching that chemistry experiment montage was strangely funny. this guy is looking for an antidote to fear? well, constantly mixing up and inhaling gases concocted by a mad-scientist supervillain is something only the very fearless--reckless to the point of foolishness!--would do. what’s to say crane’s not given you a formula for a drug that will keep you tethered to his every will and whim? hmmmm?

8.7. so he sought out the joker to... test the formula???

9. wow the “loud and clear... boss” hits different after a whole episode of them referring to each other as father and son.

9.3. waitwaitwait HOLD UP. wait a DANG MINUTE. you’re telling me that scarecrow had enough resources that he could not only have folks on the outside steal jason away and dunk him in a lazarus pit (i TOLD you that this show would bring up and dismiss ra’s al ghul in a ten second aside! I TOLD YOU) but also have his own little chemistry lab in the basement, AND have enough resources for jason to build his red hood persona???????? all of this in barely twenty four hours?

well there goes my ‘jason orchestrated his death’ theory. it was nice while it lasted. *cups hands to the sky* fly away, my baby.

9.6. a part of me is gleeful at the rushed nature of such an iconic transformation though, especially when compared to all the character work that went before it. we’re so used to getting the opposite that it’s fucking delightful to have a show that’s more interested in exploring its characters’ minds rather than battle scenes or recreating transformations from the comics. that’s taken such bold and exciting steps to fully convey all the nuances of its most recognisable character, bruce wayne, from casting an older actor to play him to unflinchingly showing just how damaging the vigilante lifestyle has been to him and the people he loves. BRILLIANT

*sporfle*

10. again, heads up: a whole lot of flashing lights between 40:28 and 42:00.

10.3. i guess it’s the super-compressed timeline that’s really throwing me off. where did he have the time to get/develop the mind control thing from? or is it something that he got from the cabal of villains that he intimidated at the beginning of 3.02? very messy.

10.5. i love molly, i hope she shows up again this season.

11. aaaand that’s it! that was a solid episode as flashback episodes go, but now i can’t wait to return to the present.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #jason todd #bruce wayne #leslie thompkins #a tragic jalebi #robin #red hood

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daringyounggrayson · 3 years

Note

Could you do 25 or 30 for Bruce and Dick? I’d really like for you to make Bruce say those words to his son!

I think we would all like to see that! oh, and for this one, I’m mixing things up: Bruce took Dick in as his ward but never went on to adopt him.

25: “You know I love you, right?”

30: “I love you, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

AO3

"Mr. Wayne!” a photographer calls, waving his arm toward their small group as they try to make their way inside. “A picture of you and your sons, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Sure!”

On cue, the four of them turn toward the camera with easy smiles.

“Oh, sorry sir.” The photographer directs this at Dick. “Could I just get his sons for this shot?”

Dick doesn’t blame the reporter, honestly. He was probably assigned to get pictures of the Waynes, and when you google the Waynes, Dick’s name doesn’t pop-up—at least, not under family. And it makes sense; he was never adopted, so he’s legally not part of the Wayne family. Dick’s relation is just a small, unimportant detail. And to outsiders, especially people outside of Gotham or people who simply don’t keep up with Wayne Family News, Dick looks like more of a family friend, if anything.

It’s an honest mistake, and Dick doesn’t take it personally. Unfortunately, that doesn't make it any less awkward.

Dick glances at Bruce, trying to decide what to do. This evening will be long enough as it is, and if Bruce would rather let it go and get through the photos as quickly as possible, Dick wouldn't blame him. And it’s not like Dick needs his face on another magazine.

Bruce tightens his hold on Dick’s shoulder, decision made.

“If you don’t mind,” Bruce pipes up with a charming voice, “I would like Richard to be in the photo. I did raise him for a decade, after all.” Bruce laughs to ease the tension, and Dick joins him to tell the photographer it’s okay.

The photographer’s eyes go wide, face going slightly pink. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. I, er, here—” he holds the camera up “—smile!” The camera flashes twice. “Perfect. Have a nice evening!” And then the photographer is gone.

“I think I’m going to run ahead,” Dick says. “Find me when you can.”

“Dick, you don't—”

“It’s fine, B. Seriously.” Dick grins.

Bruce frowns.

Dick shrugs and ducks away from his group, heading toward the building. He ignores the flashing of cameras and calls from the various photographers, and he ignores the three pairs of eyes that dig into his back as he goes.

oOo

All in all, the party was uneventful and the four of them excused themselves early after receiving an alert that Scarecrow had been spotted on the other side of town. If Scarecrow hadn’t been spotted terrorizing civilians with fear gas, Dick might’ve been able to enjoy the free ticket out of the gala.

“Shit,” Tim mutters.

“What?” Dick asks, not taking his eyes off of Scarecrow.

“Forgot to grab a new rebreather. I still have the busted one from the other night.”

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath before grabbing his own rebreather. “Here.”

Tim pushes it back toward him, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I messed up; I can deal with the consequences.”

“I’m offering you the solution,” Dick insists, pushing back. “We don’t have time to argue. Take the rebreather so we can move in.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t need you to protect me like I’m,” Tim looks away, down, “like I’m Robin. Besides, I think we both know that I’ll be able to handle fear gas better than you.”

Dick clenches his jaw, then relaxes it. Not the time. “Maybe, but I’m in charge right now. So: take the rebreather or you’re playing look-out for the rest of the night.”

Tim’s head shoots up, eyes scanning Dick to see how serious he is. Tim takes the rebreather, shoving it into his belt. “Happy?”

“Thrilled. Let’s go.”

oOo

If anyone had to get gassed, Dick’s glad it was him. Even though he has an objectively bad reaction and treatment isn’t always effective, he has more experience and can deal with it better than his siblings. During and after. On top of that, Tim was and continues to be his responsibility; his top priority was getting Tim home safe. From those perspectives, it was logical for Dick to take the lungful of fear toxin.

Then there’s the selfish, probably more powerful perspective: Dick can’t stand seeing Tim on fear gas. The screaming, the tears, the things he says, the inability to comfort him and take the pain away. It’s awful to see once, and Dick’s seen it countless times, in real life and in nightmares. He’d do anything to avoid it—for Tim’s sake and, when Dick’s being honest, his own. He knows his family probably feels the same way about him, but that just means they’d act out of selfishness too.

Tonight, Dick had more say, so Tim got the rebreather and Dick got more than a lungful of gas.

“Sorry again,” Tim mumbles, passing Dick a fresh ice pack. “About the rebreather.”

Dick takes the ice pack and presses it against his right shoulder, which he agitated at some point during their fight with Scarecrow. “’S fine. Knowing you, you’ll triple check next time to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“No kidding,” Tim mumbles, running a hand through his hair. He stifles a yawn. “Need anything else?”

“Nah.” Dick starts reciting pi in his head, trying to drown out the voices he knows aren’t real. “Get some sleep. And good work tonight.”

Even with the gassing, he and Tim were able to take down Scarecrow fairly easily. It’s nice to know that the two of them can still work well together, even when the circumstances aren’t entirely ideal.

“Thanks, you too.” Tim bounces on the balls of his feet and fails to stifle another yawn. This time, Dick yawns too. “You don’t want company or anything?”

“I’m good. Besides, I’ll probably just try to sleep until Alfred is happy with the blood work.”

Tim shrugs and takes a few steps backward. “If you change your mind.”

“Night, Timmers.”

“Night.” Tim turns around and makes his exit.

Dick throws his good arm over his eyes and tries to sleep.

oOo

Unconsciousness comes in waves, broken by adrenaline spikes and Alfred or Bruce checking on him. But no matter his consciousness status, Dick’s reality is shadowed and manipulated by voices and figures, hallucinations and lies that feel like absolute truths. It’s hard to tell the difference between sleep and wakefulness, but the shaking is a good tell. He doesn’t usually shake in his nightmares.

He's in his room, lying in his bed and shaking. He doesn’t remember coming here, but that doesn’t say much. He’d been having a dream, something that felt real, but wrong. Something adjacent to reality.

A camera kept flashing in his face, the photographer morphing into something less and less human. And Bruce, Bruce had been there. Yelling at him, telling him to—

No. That hadn’t happened, and now that he’s awake, Dick can barely remember the lies.

Dick kicks at his sheets, trying to reach the cool air above them. At first it’s a relief, but soon it’s not enough because he’s hot and sweaty and something keeps telling him to run. He glances out the window, trying to figure out if he could survive the fall—

No. He’s fine. He’s fine.

Dick pushes himself upright, takes some deep breaths, tries to recite pi.

He jumps at the knock on his door.

“Dick?” the door creaks open to reveal Bruce, who enters the room before Dick can answer. “What are you still doing here?”

“I—” Dick feels hot, his palms are sweating again and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest, trying to escape. He blinks, twists the skin on his forearm until it hurts.

Bruce is in front of him, sitting down on the bed. “I trained you to be a detective. Can’t you piece together the clues? You’re not wanted. Get out of my house and stay away from my family.”

Dick shakes his head, fists his hair. The room feels like it’s getting smaller, twisted and darker. Louder. Wrong. This is a sign, but Dick can’t remember for what. “But you—no. You trusted me with Damian, you said—”

What had Bruce said? He’s a master manipulator when he wants to be, needs to be. He might’ve trusted him with Damian, or maybe, just maybe, he was only trying to protect Alfred in case Damian had been given orders to assassinate them. He’d already attacked Tim, after all, and keeping that fact in mind, Bruce would have needed to consider safety and who he’d be willing to lose in order to protect someone else. Dick’s death and its repercussions would have felt minuscule if it meant Alfred would be saved.

Hands tug at his wrists. It’s three fourteen. The voice is lying.

“Shh. Take a breath.” Dick tries, but it’s like his chest has stalled. “Tell me how many posters are in your room.”

“There’s—”

“Take them and go. I don’t want any trace of you left in this house.”

“Dick, you’re alright. Take a breath.” Hands are on Dick’s shoulders, trying to restrain him. He brushes them off, tries to get to the window. “I’m out of patience. I won’t be subtle any longer—I’ve regretted taking you in from the moment you moved in. Go!”

His fingers barely brush against the window’s lock before he’s slammed into the ground. His shoulder pops, making him grunt.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Focus. Wait it out.”

Dick struggles against the weight on top of him, but it doesn’t give, not even when he resorts to biting. The hands simply shift from his chest to his stomach, and his attacker doesn’t even make a sound.

The voices in his head build up. There are millions, all shouting conspiracies at him, all of them sounding too true. His heart pounds so hard that it must be bruising his chest, and he’s so hot that his brain must be about to melt. And, and—he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. This is it—he’s going to die.

A hand forces his head down, and it’s not until then that he realizes he’s been slamming it against the ground in an attempt to silence the voices.

“Shh, shh. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

“Leave! Jump out the window, you’d be doing everyone a favor!”

Dick tries to lift his head again, but the hold is firm. There’s not enough room to hit it against the ground, there’s not enough room to shut the voices out.

“No one will miss you!”

The familiar feeling of a needle slides into his arm.

“Shh.”

Something happens. The room shifts, he shifts, and he realizes that he’s no longer shaking. It’s a sign.

The hallucinations shift into a nightmare that feels too real.

oOo

Dick wakes up to nausea and a headache. He tries to move his hand to rub at his head only to find that he’s been restrained. Bad night then.

He opens his eyes and turns his head. There’s an empty chair by his bed and the bedroom door is cracked open.

“Bruce,” he calls.

Damian steps into view, pushing the door open a little wider. The quick response tells Dick that Damian has been listening from the hallway. “Father is answering a call from Kent. Would you like me to collect him?”

"It can wait.”

Damian still hasn’t entered the room, and it makes Dick wonder how much he’d heard last night, how much last night has to do with the distance, the hesitance. He doesn’t remember seeing Damian at all, but he probably came back when Dick was still in the Cave. And even if they hadn’t seen each other, it’s not like Dick’s bedroom is soundproof.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” He can remember Bruce having a handful of especially bad reactions to fear gas from when Dick was a kid—they’d been terrifying, seeing Bruce like that had made them terrifying.

“Of course. You are the one who was incapacitated.” Damian tugs on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, pulling it halfway down his hand. “But you are alright now?”

Dick quirks his lips into a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Good. I imagine last night was quite difficult,” Damian begins. “Titus woke up several times.” Damian tugs on his sleeve again, he looks like he wants to ask something.

Damian’s head turns abruptly, and whatever he sees causes him to take a step back. Into the hallway, he says, “Richard is awake.”

Now that he’s paying attention, Dick can hear Bruce’s footsteps. Bruce pauses outside of Dick’s bedroom, and he and Damian exchange words in quiet voices that Dick can’t understand. Then Bruce steps inside and closes the door behind him.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks.

“Lucid,” Dick starts. Bruce tilts his head, expectant. “Not great overall, and I still feel a little on edge, but I think the worst of it is over.”

“Hnn.” Bruce looks him over for a moment, trying to confirm Dick’s self-evaluation. He must pass because soon Bruce is taking off the restraints.

“Did I . . .” Dick tries to think back to last night and work out what was nightmare and what was hallucination and what was reality. “Did I try to jump out a window last night?”

“Yes. I had to hold you down until a sedative was administered. After that, we decided it would be safer to use restraints until the toxin wore off.”

Dick sits up as the last of the restraints are removed. He stretches his ankles and wrists. “Did the antidote not work or something?”

“It either wore off early or the toxin was stronger than usual. Possibly both, considering how you reacted to additional doses,” Bruce explains.

Dick frowns. “How many doses did you give me?”

“Three. You probably won’t need a fourth, but we’ll check your blood in a few hours to make sure that the traces still in your system are gone, or at least decreasing.”

Dick groans and slides back down against his pillow, draping his arms over his face. The fear toxin antidote, while helpful, isn’t without side-effects. With three doses, those effects will stick around for days.

Bruce, the bastard, has the audacity to chuckle at him. Dick blindly throws a pillow at him, smiling when he hears it meet its target.

Then, “Are you hungry?”

“Not even a little.”

Bruce runs a hand through Dick’s hair. “Sleep.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

oOo

Dick wakes up alone again, but this time the chair is gone and the door is completely shut. It’s a good sign, and since Dick isn��t currently disoriented, very much preferred.

It’s much later in the day now, a little past noon, but he knows he could very easily close his eyes and sleep for another few hours. Possibly until the next morning. But to his misfortune, his stomach growls in protest.

With a dramatic sigh that no one can hear, he gets out of bed, quickly showers and dresses, and goes downstairs to find something to eat.

"I was just about to check on you," Alfred says when he spots him entering the kitchen. "How are you feeling?"

Dick shrugs. “Tired.” It’s a side-effect of the antidote, but the nightmares probably hadn’t helped. “Did you guys have lunch already?”

“It would seem that everyone has gotten a rather late start to the day. We were just about to settle in for a brunch of sorts.”

“Do you need help?” Dick asks.

Alfred points toward a tray of what looks like buckwheat pancakes. “If you could bring that tray into the dining room, please.”

Dick hums and grabs the tray, carrying it into the dining room with Alfred behind him. He’s just setting the tray down when Titus storms in, running into his legs with a force that threatens to knock him over.

He takes a step back with a small laugh, reaching down to pet Titus. His tail thumps against the ground as he takes a seat on top of Dick’s feet.

“Master Damian!” Alfred shouts, setting a bowl of fruit down on the table.

“What’s up with you, buddy?” Dick asks the dog as he bends down to pet him better. Titus doesn’t usually tackle him, especially not when they just saw each other the day before. “What’s goin’ on?”

Alfred tsks to the room at large.

“Yes, Pennyworth?” Damian asks when he eventually reaches the room.

“What have I told you about animals in the dining room, especially during meal times?”

Damian rolls his eyes, prompting another “Master Damian!” from Alfred. Dick almost laughs, but the adult in him tells him to stand up and keep his mouth shut.

“Titus, come,” Damian says.

Titus whines.

“Titus, come,” Damian repeats.

Titus obeys, tail low as Damian leads him out of the room.

“And please gather the others before returning.”

Damian mumbles something under his breath that Alfred claims to have heard. Despite the resistance, Tim comes into the room a minute later, so Damian must’ve done as Alfred asked.

“Morning,” Tim says. He juts his thumb toward the hall. “What’s Damian mad about?”

“Oh.” Dick huffs a small laugh. “Titus ran in here and Alfred kind of went off on him.”

“Ugh, and I missed it? Bummer.” Tim takes a seat next to him and steals a piece of fruit from the bowl. “Feeling any better? Bruce said you had a rough night.”

Sometimes a little fear toxin exposure can be so mundane and minuscule that it isn’t mentioned the following morning. Dick wishes this was one of those times.

“Yup.” Dick taps his fingers on the table. “What happened to your ankle? You didn’t report it last night.”

Tim looks down at the ACE bandage wrapped around his left foot. “Oh. Just an old injury that started acting up this morning. I can still kick your ass at sparring later, though.”

Dick snorts and grabs one of the buckwheat pancakes, deciding he can’t wait any longer. “You wish.”

oOo

Breakfast is uneventful, aside from Dick literally falling asleep on the table. Bruce shakes him awake after everyone’s finished eating and then drags Dick down to the Cave to check his blood levels. Titus joins them, pressing himself against Dick’s legs and nearly tripping him as they make their way down the Cave’s stairs.

One blood test later and they learn that the toxin levels haven’t budged. Bruce decides to give him another dose of the antidote.

“Fourth time’s the charm, right?” Dick says.

“Hnn.”

Bruce sets a timer on his phone, just like he used to do in the early days. Draw blood, antidote, set a timer, draw more blood. That had been the routine for so much of his life.

Although, Dick supposes, they hadn’t really had antidotes back then; they’d had attempts at treatments. Desperate attempts to manage symptoms. There was no testing to guarantee their effectiveness or safety, and their chemical makeup had been based purely on theory and desperation. It was better than nothing, but it was risky, so they took precautions: monitoring each other not only for effectiveness but also for the inevitable side effects.

Dick will never forget the time an “antidote” caused his throat to swell up and chest to stall. The timer had only had a minute left, too—they’d increased the time after that, and Dick hadn’t complained about having to wait the whole time for almost a year.

These days, monitoring isn’t always part of the routine, and when it is, it’s mostly to check for effectiveness. But since this is Dick’s fourth dose in a relatively short timeframe, his risk for adverse effects is higher and he needs to be monitored to make sure he doesn’t keel over. Bruce will probably force him to stay at the manor until all side effects of the treatment subside, longer if new side effects arise.

“Have you been able to get any restful sleep?”

Dick jerks as he’s pulled from his thoughts. “Uh,” he starts, needing a second to process what Bruce just said. “No. Not really, no.”

“Someone can patrol in Bludhaven while you recover.”

It’s an offer, Bruce trying to be helpful. Dick knows that, but something makes it feel like an order, proof that Bruce thinks he’s incompetent.

“I’m fine on my own.”

Funny how Dick’s still trying to prove that, after all these years. He remembers when he was eight and first moved in with Bruce, how he’d been adamant about not needing a parent, not needing Bruce, but he became attached anyway. He’d told himself Bruce was a want, not a need, but that hadn’t been true, not in the early days.

Then things shifted. He grew up and no longer needed Bruce, but he’d wanted him. Dick had lied to himself again, telling himself that Bruce was the last person he wanted. The lie was easier to believe on some days than on others, but it had been even harder to convince himself that Bruce felt the same way. That even if Bruce didn’t need Dick, he wanted him.

That feeling of uncertainty, insecurity, had been with Dick since he was a kid, and it had persisted and worsened as he’d gotten older. It had been exacerbated after Two-Face nearly killed him and Bruce promptly fired him from being Robin. He was twelve and lost back then, and in what he now knows was just his twisted, hurt kid-brain, he’d convinced himself that Bruce didn’t need nor want him, as Robin or anything else.

Back then, he’d been certain that pity and guilt were the only things stopping Bruce from tossing Dick out onto the streets. He’d felt like a burden, and he’d hated everything about his life in those moments. So, he’d done the only thing he could think of—he ran.

And Bruce—Bruce didn’t chase him.

That was—maybe is—the important bit, the part that Dick still thinks about. Not the initial rejection, not being fired—that Bruce didn’t come after him.

After all, that’s what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? For Bruce to prove him wrong, for Bruce to chase after him, fight for him. To want him.

Bruce fought for Jason, then for Tim and, eventually, Damian. It’s clear that they are and always will be wanted, and Dick knows it’s stupid, but he doesn’t always know if that’s true for himself. At the end of the day, his brothers all have Bruce’s name, and all Dick has is a man who stopped being his legal guardian when he turned eighteen.

Dick is useful, even needed on the rare occasion, but he’s not always sure that he’s wanted. And he desperately needs to be wanted.

“Something’s . . . bothering you.” Bruce’s brows are furrowed, searching Dick’s face and trying to find the clues that will tell him what went wrong and where.

Dick scratches behind Titus’s ears, looking at him instead of Bruce. “Just the toxin.”

“Hnn.” Bruce sits down next to Dick, grunting slightly as he settles. “I imagine that the photographer’s comments last night didn’t help.”

Sometimes Dick hates how well Bruce knows him.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Maybe. But fear toxin twists things, and it’s been known to draw on recent events, especially the latest versions.”

Dick says nothing, just nods in acknowledgment as he attends to Titus.

“Dick, you are my family, in every sense of the word. And I . . . I was bothered by the comment last night that implied otherwise.”

Bruce reaches over and squeezes Dick’s knee, and Dick wonders how much he’d said last night when the fear toxin was in control.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just—” Dick sighs, leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut. “Sometimes I don’t.”

Bruce shifts. He cups the back of Dick’s head and pulls him toward his chest, pressing a kiss into his hair. “I love you, okay? And you are wanted here. So, so wanted.” Bruce holds him in a tight hug and traces circles into his hair. “I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

Dick hugs him back and nods into his chest. It doesn’t fix everything, but it makes it better. And sometimes that’s all anyone needs.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #tim drake #damian wayne #nightwing #batman #red robin #robin #batfamily #fear toxin #elizabeth writes

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