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lazyjellyfish300 · 1 month

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The Woman He Didn't Choose Part 3 🥀

Bachelor!Miguel O'Hara x Fem contestant!Reader

Synopsis: back on the beaches of Paradise, Miguel prepares to face you for the first time since breaking your heart in front of millions during his time as the Eligible Suitor. Word count 3.1k 🖤 one of the scenes is inspired by the casino night episode of The office between Jim and Pam.

A/N: If you're unfamiliar with the show Bachelor in Paradise, here's a clip to give you an idea. Basically, it's another dating show usually in a tropical location where single people couple up, and new arrivals come in every so often and ask people on dates to shake things up, leading to drama and chaos, and couples can choose to stay together or break up in the end and there's typically an engagement. DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO RIGHTS TO THE SHOWS THE BACHELOR OR BACHELOR IN PARADISE, ALL RIGHTS TO THE OWNERS. I CHANGED THE NAME OF THE SHOW IN THE STORY.

TW: MINORS DNI, ANGST, SMUT (DRY HUMPING, FINGERING, CUMMING IN PANTS, SPANKING, FANTASIZING) JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, PINING, DANGER, BULLYING, HEARTBREAK) sorry if I forgot anything...

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 4

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Thud...thud...thud....

"I...okay come on now...Mig...jeez. Get a grip!" Jess weakly tries to yank Miguel away from the bar which he was starting to pathetically knock his head against, the feeling in his body becoming deadweight; the buzz from the tequila partially responsible as he slumped backwards towards Jess.

"Aaaa! Noir-HELP!"

Jess jumped out of the way, no match for Miguel's huge frame and Noir was too sluggish and he toppled backwards off his bar stool onto the ground with a small thump.

Noir and Jess looked down at the dazed expression on his face. A man tortured by Cupid laying in the sand, shirt half unbuttoned.

"You know, she had to watch you makeout with a different woman every single Monday for twelve weeks?" Noir points out. "Sometimes even back to back-woof."

Miguel blinks at him in response.

"Seriouslyy though, not to mention the fairytale suites when you literally hooked up with two other women." Jess adds. "Honestly, you deserved this one."

Miguel starts to groan, mumbling incoherent word jumbo, the inflections in his voice raising higher in pitch, making him sound like a giant baby as he rubbed circles in his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Noir and Jess look at each other. It was gonna be a long night with this one.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

You and Peter keep getting busy by the pool, everyone stayed clear of a 50 foot radius while your passionate escapade went on, the sounds you were making were painfully obvious.

You were straddling Peter still, one of his hands in your swim suit bottoms as he curled two fingers inside your soft pussy. Peter looked up at you, your bouncing breasts, the soft texture of your skin, God everything about you was completely divine in this moment as you rode his lap.

"Fuck...." He bit his lip as he thrust his hips, synchronizing them with yours. "You're close baby, aren't ya...? Talk to me, beautiful...."

"Peter...." The pretty sounds you were making became more breathy. You brought your own hands to your tits, squeezing them, giving them a caress, putting on a show for him as you erotically lolled your head backwards.

"Good God...." Peter's mouth slowly inched open, leaning back just a little so he could get a better view, the burning hickory color in his eyes completely overtaken by carnal desire, making him look so sexy in the dark.

"I could get used to watching you do that, baby...." He panted harder, adding his thumb to your clit.

You whined sharply and he pulled you down closer, groaning as he felt your breasts squish against his chest, you nearly shoved your tongue down his throat but this only excited him further. He gave a low sensual growl into your mouth at the sensation. "So eager...mmm I'm loving this..."

"Yeah baby?" You coo sweetly into his ear, letting him hear your impassioned moans.

"Fuck.... yeah..." Peter groaned, his hand landing another sharp spank on your ass, his fingers locking around your ass cheek right after it made contact. "Cum all over my hand, sweetheart..." he said through clenched teeth.

"Peter..." You plead, the peak of your arousal nearly reached with the way his thumb gently kneaded your clit, delivering waves of wetness between your thighs. "I wanna cum on your cock..."

"Oh my God...." Peter shut his eyes, that fiery coil building momentum in his body, he was close to his end as well. "I'll let you cum on my cock later, baby...I promise..."

"Please, Peter?"

"I know, beautiful...I know... it's okay, lovely girl..." He bites his lip again, curling his body deliciously below you. "Cum on my hand for me... just like this..."

You scream his name and give him just that, your warm arousal leaking all over him, and he cums in his swim trunks. He groans loudly, grabbing you by your neck with his free hand. You jerk towards him harshly at first, then the movement is more gentle as you meet him in a tender kiss. You melt as your tongues dance once more. You can't resist a cheeky smile in between kisses, a faint chuckle rolling off his lips into your mouth as he cutely brushes his nose against yours.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

The cameras focus on you and Peter making your way down the stone steps onto the beach where the rest of the couples were hanging out. You had a huge smile plastered on your face, your fingers tangled with Peter's as one of his arms rested comfortably around your shoulder, holding you close. Your unofficial first entrance as the newest couple in Paradise.

"Here-sit up." Jess hits Miguel's stomach with the back of her hand when she sees you and Peter approach, and he corrects his slouch and sits up proudly in his seat, his large pecs pushed up in a slightly comical matter.

"You're overdoing it..." Jess murmurs out of the corner of her mouth. Miguel gulps and relaxes his shoulders a little bit, his heart beating out of his chest as he sees you face to face for the first time in months.

All eyes are on you and Peter as people stand up from around the beachside bonfire, cheering for you two. Felicia squeals and runs up to you. You giggle and give her a hug and tug her back towards the tiki bar where you two go to catch up on the spicy events with Peter that just transpired.

Ben pats the seat next to him, gesturing for Peter to sit down with a smirk on his face. "Well?"

Peter just nods silently, a huge smile breaking out on his lips and the tops of his cheeks turning a healthy red.

"My man...." Ben slaps Peter on the back and hands him a beer, a snap and fizz as the can cracks open. "I'm happy for you buddy...let's drink to that." They laugh loudly and clink their beer cans together.

From across the fire pit, MJ's face remains neutral, although an intangible aura of tension hangs around her. She starts to blink rapidly as she tries to not give away her obvious jealousy, turning her attention to George next to her instead who's yapping loudly with Web-Slinger, cringing internally when she hears the problematic quality of the drunken jibberish he's spouting off.

Miguel's face and chest gets hot again as he watches Peter and Ben, his jaw tense. Then, he looks over at you, playfully gossiping with Felicia. He stands up, slowly walking towards you two at the bar, his fingers tightening around the now sandy and slightly wilted rose he dropped earlier.

In your peripheral vision, you sense someone approaching. You turn your head just a little, locking eyes with the target, nod, then turn back to face Felicia. Your neck nearly breaks when you jerk your head to look back at the target again, realizing it's not just anyone.

It's Miguel.

Your biggest heartbreak, the one who sat at the back of your mind at all times. His voice and his words a record that your ears forced you to listen to over and over again. The man responsible for humiliating you in front of millions of people behind a TV screen. The man who promised you the world and planted visions of a fairytale ending in your head then did a 180 the next day. The man who quite literally ripped your heart in half, repeatedly, forced you to watch him develop feelings, get physical and whisper sweet nothings to other women week after week as the show aired.

Your Roman Empire standing before you in the form of rich scarlet eyes, a chiseled jaw, and that damned shy smile that was tugging at your heart strings, even now despite the months of torment he brought you.

"Hi...." He says softly, eyes not wavering from yours. He was looking at you like you were the only person on that beach. Felicia's jaw fell open, the cameras were painfully close to your face, capturing your deer in headlights expression as you reacted in real time to this unbelievable twist of fate.

You remain a statue as he gently lifts his hand, offering you the lightly soiled rose. "Can we go talk, please?" His voice reduces to a whisper, the pleading in his tone emphasized by the way his eyebrows crinkle in the middle, those crimson eyes in an expression mimicking a sad puppy.

You feel your knees get a little weak as your neck slightly cranes to look at him, his countenance reducing you to a puddle, but you realize immediately that you need to stay strong, don't be so fast to lower the drawbridge to your heart just yet. This man didn't choose you, and here he conveniently was right when you thought you had a spark for someone else.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, your eyes narrowing, tone crisp and sharp. Miguel takes a deep breath, prepared to meet your figurative blade you had pointed at him in self defense.

"It's a long story. I'll explain everything if you let me?" The corners of Miguel's eyes soften even more, every bit of his body language is submissive, begging, pleading with you to hear him out.

Felicia looks at him incredulously, her icy eyes flicker to you, trying to read your expression.

"Don't do it..." she mutters to you quietly.

Miguel clearly heard what she said, but that doesn't stop him from still staring at you, holding his breath.

Your eyes move to Felicia and you place your hand on her forearm, gently pushing your cocktail towards her.

"Just trust me...I got this..." you mutter back.

Felicia nods slowly, taking your cocktail in her hand. She shoots one last suspicious glare in Miguel's direction and walks back towards the bonfire to sit next to Ben, who's laughing loudly with Peter, both of them not paying any attention to what's going on.

Miguel offers his arm to you but you shake your head, crossing your arms as you both walk side by side along the beach, the waves gently crashing as the nighttime descends along the shore. One of the cameramen keeping a healthy distance behind you.

"So?" You say, keeping your eyes straight ahead, concentrating on some of the rocky cliffs in the distance. "What happened with Xina?"

Miguel sighs. "I ended it."

"You ended it?" you ask, slightly surprised at the revelation. "Thought you were in love..."

"I was..." Miguel said curtly. You feel your heart skip at the past tense of his words.

"What happened?"

Miguel blows out air slowly from his nostrils. "She wasn't who I thought she was. I realized we were incompatible."

You raise your eyebrows. You know him well enough to know there's more to the story. You'd get it out of him later when the cameras were off.

"Well, sorry to hear that." You say, feigning sympathy.

Miguel tries not to smile, thankful the darkness is concealing his face. He also knows you well enough to know that you certainly aren't sorry for him in the least. "So, you and Peter, huh?"

You smile, looking down at the sand. You both come to a stop in the middle of the beach, now quite a ways away from the others, the moon keeping watch above you, a camera zoomed in on your face.

"Yeah..." you say, trying not to go into too much detail. "He caught me by surprise. We have a lot in common, so... I think I'm going to give this a shot." you nod, looking up at Miguel.

Miguel is completely disappointed by this, but he nods, doing his best to conjure up a smile.

"I'm happy for you."

A lie.

"I hope that things go well with you two."

Another lie.

"You deserve to be happy."

The truth, even if it cut him a million times to say it out loud.

"Thanks, Miggy..." You whisper.

God, he would kiss you right now if he could. Why'd you call him by his damn nickname? Miguel's hands bunch into fists in his swim trunk pockets. His eyes go a little half lidded as he looks down at you. Heartbreak aside, you looked absolutely magnificent under the beach moonlight.

Under different circumstances if he wasn't so foolish, you two would be in a location like this on your honeymoon, where you two wouldn't have any responsibilities besides letting the sun bathe your skin, and he'd keep your wine glass full, weaving pretty tropical flowers into your hair as you sat across from him at some lively outdoor restaurant on the waterfront.

Where every night he'd take you to the shared cozy bungalow you two were staying in, groaning and biting his lip at the sight of your strapless maxi dress being tugged down the curves of your body, your lips parting, calling for him, begging for him to be inside...

"Can we be friends?" You ask.

Miguel huffs, his fantasy brought to an abrupt halt, bringing him back to his less than ideal reality. "Don't do that..." Miguel shakes his head, looking upwards in defeat. "I want more than that..." He whispers, a lump forming in his throat.

God, how much you wanted to just pretend like the last several months didn't happen and wrap your arms around him in that moment, too. But you know you can't. You owed it to yourself to see this through with Peter. It was time to put yourself first. "Well...I can't..."

Miguel shakes his head, cutting you off. "I don't wanna hear it...sorry." Miguel sighs.

You nod, understanding that every word that came from your mouth would just be a dagger to him. You stand there with him in uncomfortable silence.

Miguel thinks deeply for several more moments, then speaks, "Maybe one day, we could work towards that..."

In his mind he knows damn well he's not referring to being just friends. He's smart enough to know that if he truly wants to win you back, he'll cut his loss and remain civil and friendly. Then, and maybe just then, this little "fling" you have going on with Parker will fizzle out and he'll be there, ready to catch you.

You look at Miguel, a little surprised at his change in demeanor but you welcome it, happy that things don't need to remain bitter between you.

"Absolutely..." You hold your hand out to him, a friendly truce. "We're good?"

Miguel nods. "Good..." He echos.

You two shake hands and your lips part slightly at the warmth of his palm and how tightly he wraps his fingers around yours. The corner of Miguel's mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly as he pulls you closer to him, a little bait and switch behind this supposedly platonic handshake.

You're helpless, drowning in the ruby waters of his eyes, the oceanic atmosphere making him all the more tempting.

He's helpless too, a situation he was trying to avoid altogether but he put himself in it anyway. He'd put up with seeing you all over Peter if it meant you'd still be within arm's reach. He'd be the broom and dustpan for you at a moment's notice the moment Peter carelessly dropped your heart. There was a good chance it would happen since he knew Peter was as stuck on MJ as he was on you.

Felicia calls for you, and your intimate moment is interrupted, Miguel stifling a sigh of defeat as you whip your head in her direction. You start walking back rapidly towards the bonfire, picking up the pace when you see Felicia is frantic, the cameraman struggling to keep up with you.

"It's Jess..." Felicia huffs, out of breath. "She's sick, we gotta go make sure she's okay... there's an ambulance here and everything!"

Your heart drops to your stomach and you look at Miguel, also worried at the sudden change of events, hoping all is well.

You three scurry towards the resort entrance, but the ambulance is already pulling away. Ben is hanging his head grimly, walking towards you, Felicia, and Miguel. "She's gone to the hospital, Noir is with her..."

You bring a hand over your mouth in shock. Felicia lets out a soft whimper in sadness for her friend. Ben wraps Felicia into a hug. Miguel looks at you with worried eyes, going to place his hand on your shoulder in consolation but he freezes when he sees Peter approaching.

"Hey, you..."

"Oh!" You're caught a little off guard when Peter sweeps you into an embrace, Miguel turning around in the opposite direction. You close your eyes and relax, wrapping your arms around Peter's waist. "Will she be okay?"

Peter looks at you, carefully brushing hair out of your eyes. "I think so...don't worry, she's at the hospital getting the best care in the world."

You nod and smile, looking up at him. The group stands around for a bit, murmuring in confusion, Miguel awkwardly on his own, trying not to make eye contact with you as he paces in place.

The host, Jason Donner, speaks in a voiceover:

"Next time, on Singles in Paradise..."

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Felicia runs across the wooden bridge connecting the resort bungalows, nearly tripping into the shiny swimming pools on either side of the walkway.

"New arrival! New arrival! Wake the fuck up! There's a new arrival!"

You and Miguel are sipping smoothies in the common area, awkwardly sitting on opposite sides of the couch when Felicia runs in, huffing and puffing... "New girl...just arrived..."

Before you can ask who or what, Felicia's already disappeared leaving both you and Miguel puzzled.

A small brunette walks in. Her hair is in a bob cut with fiery blue eyes. She has a pearly white smile and a stringy pink bikini. You get a rotten feeling in your stomach.

"Dana?" Miguel asks. His eyebrows raising in surprise.

Why the fuck did it have to be Dana...she was one of the villains during Miguel's season. She was eliminated probably only on week 3 but she was AWFUL. Just plain rude. She would smile sweetly and ask the other women where they got their outfit only for her to say it was the ugliest fucking outfit she ever saw in her camera confessionals.

Boasting loudly how she'd gladly fuck Gabriel if she ever had the chance, making you and the rest of the women in the house totally uncomfortable. The complete opposite of a girl's girl. A real pick me.

She waltzes up to Miguel, completely ignoring you, a date card in her hand. "Miguel! Wanna go chat?"

No....

Miguel looks bewildered but he smiles politely, nodding as he stands up. She takes his arm, looking up at him with doe eyes as they walk away. Miguel glances at you then looks straight ahead.

Jealousy sinks its fangs into your neck once more...

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enhafilthandfiction · 10 months

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reaction when yall r doing the deed 🗿 and your pet starts barking or meowing (basically stopping yall) at you.

Enhypen Hyungline when your pet interrupts your sexy time 🐾

A/N : Hiii, thankyou for the request! Lmao i love this ask even though i don't have any dogs or cats. Happy reading! :)

Pairing : Bf!Hyungline X Fem!Reader

Warnings : kissing, making out, sex, grinding, Jay getting cockblocked by your pet :(

Word Count : 1,360 Words (About 340 words each)

There might be some (grammatical) errors, so pls let me know!

Masterlist

» Lee Heeseung «

About a year ago or so, you and Heeseung decided to adopt a little kitten which he had fallen in love with. He convinced you to adopt the kitten by telling you that you two can be the parents and practise parenthood together.

Your heart melted at his suggestion and you couldn't help but give in. But soon as the kitten was yours, he started treating it like it was his child and everyone knows that children aren't allowed to be around an intimate couple.

"Fuck Y/n, you feel so good around me" he moaned out, tilting his head back as his hands found your waist, fucking you on him. His hips moved at a quicker pace as he felt you clench around him, both of you close.

"Hee, I-I'm Com-" you got cut off by none other than the little innocent kitten, Ddongsik.

"Meowww" he little fluffy animal walked around the room before jumping on the bed, and snuggling into the pillows.

Heeseung stopped his movements, and even pulled out of you, just to coo at the baby cat. He reached for the kitten and grabbed it, giving it a little kiss and picking it up, ready to take it out.

"Ddongsikkk, you're not allowed in here" your boyfriend whined to the animal in his hands before he set him down and closed the door behind him.

"Heeseung, what the fuck?" you ask him in disbelief "I was so fucking close"

He pouts a little, coming over to you to pat your head. "Sorry baby, I forgot to close the door and Sik was just a little curious" he explains, trying to sweet talk his way out of this situation. "It's okay, we can go again, promise I'll let you sit on my face afterwards" he promises with a wink.

You roll your eyes and lie back down, waiting for him. "Next time don't forget to close that damn door Hee, or we'll never fuck again" you harshly threatened, smiling to yourself.

» Park Jay «

Jay didn't think that he'd fall in love with an animal so much to treat it like his son. You introduced your family dog to Jay not so long ago, but Jay fell in love. You had such a cute dog and Jay loved playing fetch with him or give him belly rubs.

This weekend, your dog was staying at your apartment since your family was out of town and you had to babysit the dog. "Sit!" you ordered the dog and he obeyed "Good boy! Who's a good boy, huh?"

When Jay came back needy from work, he found you playing with the dog, but he hoped you'd give him some attention at least. "I'm home" he announces, making his way over to you and wrapping his arms around your hips. He leans down for a kiss, which you return, immediately getting lost in it as he deepens it.

You almost forget your dog as Jay, with his lips still connected to yours, pushes you on the counter, lifting you up and standing between your legs. He tries to subtly grind into your thigh, but before he can even say anything, he's interrupted by the barking of your sweet dog.

"Woof, woof!" (lmao) the loud barking scares your for a second, Jay haven put you in a trance. You look up at Jay, offering him a sheepish smile before pushing him back and sliding off the counter, making your way over to your dog and cooing at it.

You kneel down, scratching behind the dogs ears. "Aww, sorry baby, I forgot to give you your food" you frown, reaching over the counter for the dog food.

"Y/n?" he asks, bewildered at what just happened. "Did you just pick that dog over me?" he asks again, catching your attention.

"Jay, the dog can't feed itself" you explain, "You can jerk yourself off in the bathroom" you defend the dog.

"Whatever" he rolls his eyes, heading to the bathroom. Damn, he can't wait till that dog goes back home so he can have you all to himself again.

» Sim Jake «

He gently pushes you on the bed, climbing in on top of you until his face was on top of yours. He leans down, capturing your lips in his again, before he gently bites your bottom lip, smirking at you when he pulls away.

His hands explore your body, trailing down between your legs to your core, sliding his hands under your shorts. "Fuck you're so wet for me baby" he points out, biting his lips.

"Need you Jake" you whine, arching your back when he rubs your clit.

"I think I have a condom in the top drawer hold on" he says before getting up and making his way over to his night stand. You lay in his bed, waiting for him, until both of you hear a little noise coming from behind his door.

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, before dropping the condom back in the drawer and heading to the door, opening it only to find his pet dog Layla, scratching on the door.

"Laylaaa" he whines, dropping to his knees, half naked, and petting the dog on her head "What are you want huh?" he giggles, cocking his head to the side as he watches his dog lie down in a comfortable position in the corner of his room.

You watch in disbelief "Nope, no way I'm fucking you with Layla in here Jake" you tell him when he starts walking back to the bed. He sighs, looking at the ground.

"I can't just kick her out" he reasons, shrugging "Oh come on y/n, pleaseee" he begs, his boner starting to get painful.

"Jake, she's literally watching us" you explain, looking at the innocent dog at the corner of his room.

"I guess you're right" he admits "Will you let me fuck you on the couch?" he asks with his own puppy eyes.

"Fine, but if Layla interrupts us again, just know that you're gonna have to deal with your problem yourself"

» Park Sunghoon «

With his lips on yours, you two stumbled in the bedroom as he hastily closed the door behind you and pushed you against it, his lips suddenly trailing down to your neck, leaving marks behind.

Your hands found his hair "Hoon.." you called out for him "Need you"

He didn't have to hear you say it twice, lifting you up as you wrapped your feet around his waist, letting him carry you to the bed. He threw you on the bed gently, already ready to rip off your panties before-

"Shhk meow" your eyes go wide as you realise that your poor cat was on the bed, and you had lay down on its tail, which was sprawled out on the bed, making it hiss at you.

Hoon looked at you in disbelief, as you grabbed your cat, cradling it in your arms and rubbing it's tail which you accidentally lay down on. "Aw, poor kitty, does your tail hurt?" you asked the cat even though you obviously wouldn't get a reply from, making Hoon roll his eyes.

"Y/n, was that cat seriously watching us make out at your door?" he questions, sighing to himself.

You stopped your movements to think and realised he was right. "Well, its our fault we were to busy making out to notice Luna" you defend you cat, blaming it on you and him.

Your boyfriend stares at your cat in jealousy, wishing he was the one getting the kisses. "I'm sowy Luna, didn't mean to sit on your tail" you apologize to the now unbothered cat.

"Okay so? Can we continue?" he breaks into your trance, making you sigh. You get up with the cat in your hands, giving it a last hug before placing it behind the door and watching it run into the corridor.

"There" you announce, walking back to him and sitting back on the bed in front of him.

"Gosh Y/n, didn't know you had such a perverted pussy cat" he says, referring to the way your cat was just watching you two, making you giggle. "You're more perverted"

Hiii, I hope you enjoyed this one, Idk if its good, i'm a little rusty after not writing for a whole week :( But anyway, have a good day/night and remember that ily <333

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yourdoorisunlocked · 2 months

Text

What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 6

𝐀/𝐍: *Drops this and runs away* THANK ME LATER!

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒,𝟑𝟔𝟐 𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: ʟᴀʙᴏᴜʀ | ᴘᴀʀɪꜱ ᴘᴀʟᴏᴍᴀ

“𝑵𝒐𝒘, 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚-𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕, 𝒘𝒆’𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒘… 𝒂𝒅𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔.”

. . .

"And the budget for next month! Woof! I gotta tell ya', Doll, Alasta's been a real Godsent, ya' know what I'm sayin'?"

Hugo’s voice faded into a buzzing white noise as your thoughts drifted off yet again to your musings of the night you’d spent with a certain radio host, whose chiseled, soft features consumed your every waking thought.

Though the details were a complete blur, the sensation of Alastor’s warm embrace hugging around your frame was an unforgettable feeling that you’d be chasing for the rest of your days.

His addictive scent, laced with undertones of cinnamon and soft notes of expensive cologne had embraced you as you recalled his electrifying touch.

You couldn’t deny it any longer, you were surely holding a torch for the man, and according to Hugo, you were horrible at hiding it.

But honestly, who could blame you for falling so deeply? The past week that you’d spent with Alastor had been beautiful, as he had surprised you more and more with courteous, almost flirtatious gestures that grew in both audacity and frequency with each passing day.

Whether it be assorted, freshly picked bouquets that he’d set upon your bedside table for whenever you woke up, or beautiful dresses and tops that looked to be hand-tailored from a certain seamstress you’d become very well-acquainted with, or chocolates and sweets that he’d whip up himself, just for you, Alastor always delivered in full.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Alastor was trying to court you.

Really, it was like he was trying to make you melt on the spot with just how forward he was! It took everything in you not to swoon at his feet with each gift and memorable outing you shared.

“Hey, Doll? Ya’ go deaf, or somethin’?”

Blinking, you snapped out of your trance and wiped a subtle line of drool from your face as blush dusted your cheeks. Hugo narrowed his eyes at you with his hands on his hips as you pulled yourself back into reality.

“Sorry about that, sir. I was just thinking...” you smiled apologetically up at your supervisor, and you try not to tune him out as he starts rambling yet again. When will Alastor’s evening podcast begin, again?

“Uh-huh. Probably thinkin’ about your lil’ boy-toy in the next room over. Speakin’ a' Al’, I forgot to tell you that he’s workin’ overtime tonight. Told me to let ya’ know,” the blonde mentioned nonchalantly, startling you out of your daydreaming trance yet again.

“H-He’s working overtime now?”

Hugo groaned with exasperation. “Stars, Dollface, are ya’ gettin’ amnesic on me, now? Yeah, I was just tellin’ ya’, Al’s hours extended a bit. His request,” he shrugged, unaware of how you deflated in your office chair. You were really looking forward to your evening walk home with Alastor.

“Well, did he say why?”

Hugo shook his head. “Nope, didn’t mention a thing. But I can walk ya’ home, if ya'd like,” he offered with a bright, innocent smile, which brought your usual guard down, despite the risks. You’d always had a soft spot for the spiffing, young producer, since you’d always seen him as a little brother despite being your superior. It didn’t help that he acted like one, too.

And besides, Alastor would only give himself later hours if he thought about you in advance, wouldn’t he? He'd probably put Hugo up to the task of walking you home, the considerate sweetheart.

It wasn’t like you had any other choice, so with a soft smile, you nodded. “Sure! When do you leave?”

“Eh... Around five-thirty, on weekdays. Just thirty minutes after you leave, right?”

With a nod and a smile, you waved Hugo off. “Sure is. Now, get back to work, you! I have scripts that need editing.” He rolled his eyes as you scolded and dismissed him and made himself busy around the radio station.

Once the brilliant, baby blue sky had slowly begun to fade into a reflective navy with nary a star yet in sight, your workday had finally ended, and you were finally free to go.

With a relieved sigh and a stretch of your knuckles, you grabbed your bearings and met Hugo by the front door as a few people had begun filing out of the station. You supposed some others were working late, as well, since some of the usual faces weren’t racing home from work like you and Alastor.

A sudden reminder of your usual stroll buddy made you turn to Hugo hopefully. “Oh, Hugo, can I say goodbye to Alastor? I’ll be quick, I promise!”

Hugo chuckled and shook his head with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Doll. Al’ said he'd needed to be alone for a while at the end of the workday and told me to just get ya’ home.”

He raised an eyebrow down at your disappointed frown, and he was reminded of how it seemed you two couldn’t seem to spend an hour apart, let alone an entire day.

Throughout the day, Alastor had asked at least a dozen times if he could take a small break simply to spend time with you, but Hugo didn’t need you two love birds distracting each other, not since he caught the both of you spending your lunch break together in Alastor’s recording booth.

You had both spent twenty minutes past your break simply to chat and nuzzle noses together like a couple of awkward teenagers under the bleachers, until Hugo found you, though he teased the daylights out of you, rather than reprimand you. He knew better than to step on the toes of Al’s girl.

Jeez, these kids are hopeless, ain’t they?

“C’mon, now, don’t look so glum,” Hugo tried to be comforting as he put a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure that Al' misses you just as much as you miss ‘im, so don’t get ya’self down.” He smiled down at you as you perked up.

“You think?” You peeked up at Hugo as he walked you out the door and onto the sidewalk with an arm slung over your shoulder.

“Got ya’ interest now, don’t I?” The blonde teased with a smirk as he wiggled his eyebrows, making you groan. “So, how’s it been down in good ol’ Lover’s Lane~?”

“I’ve already told you, Hugo, it isn’t like that!”

“Uh-huh, and I’m a monkey’s uncle.”

“Well, that monkey won’t have an uncle if you don’t drop this!”

The walk home consisted of your teasing and playful back-and-forth as the sky darkened further, and the glow of a few streetlamps had been left as the only light source illuminating your path.

Suddenly, you halted right in front of the diner you and Alastor had tried from a few weeks ago, and Hugo stopped with you.

“Uh... Ya’ sure this is the place, Doll?” He looked around for a moment, surveying the complete lack of civilization around you, just a snug little diner tucked into acres of forest, and far from the city.

You shook your head up at Hugo. “Nope, I’m just pickin' up dinner for Al' and I."

“Aw, what a Doll. Alasta' should count 'imself lucky to find a lady like you,” he ruffled your hair with a grin, and you rolled your eyes and fixed your now ridiculous-looking locks.

“Alright, so, I’ll drop ya’ off here, but you gotta promise ya’ won’t get kidnapped, or somethin’?” You rolled your eyes up at him with a fond grin before fixing up Hugo’s hair with a flair of your own and met his playful gaze.

“I’ll be fine, Hugo. Thank you for walking me home. Now go on, get out of here," you batted at him playfully as he walked off into the night, laughter echoing off the sidewalks stretching past the lone diner.

“Take care of ya’self, Doll, for my sake?” Hugo called back as you waved.

“I will!"

Once he had left, you headed into the quaint restaurant, smiling at the new receptionist as you made your way down the aisle.

“Hiya! Can I get two bowls of jambalaya? To-go, please!”

. . .

The soft crackle of the fire and the mellow turning of pages filled the deafening silence in the living room of Alastor’s mansion, the peaceful atmosphere heavily veiling the inner worry that conjured up a whirlwind of a headache as you tried to focus on the book in your hands.

It was a romance that you were in the middle of reading, though it was surprising to find such a rarity in Alastor’s library, since much of his selection consisted of thrillers and horror. Though this book was no different, you supposed, since it consisted of a healthy amount of gore sprinkled in between scenes.

You had re-read the same sentence at least five times, before looking over to the grandfather clock sitting snugly next to the mantel. Your hourly disappointment had flickered into irritation with each glance you took at the old thing.

The smaller hand that seemed to slowly tick by had decided to pick that evening to speed up its journey against the clock’s marble face as the hours passed, and your worry grew.

It was now nearly midnight, and you were just about ready to start leading a torch-wielding brigade out into the forest to search for Alastor, when a knock jolted you out of your seat.

There’s only one man who’d stray out this far at this audacious hour...

You look past the kitchen to the front door and crept up to it as hopefulness and irritation conflicted with one another in your chest.

You opened the door with a sigh of relief as Alastor’s frame towered over you with his familiar smile, though you didn’t miss how it twitched slightly at the tips.

You watched him with a concerned gaze as he stepped inside.

“Terribly sorry for the wait, my dear! Truly, I apologize, but I had to take care of a few things,” You wanted to slap Alastor for worrying you to the brink of re-reading the same mushy paragraph for an hour and being so dismissive about his disappearing act when he finally returned, but you were too concerned about his well-being to let your anger fully boil over.

“Welcome home, Al’,” you hesitated for a moment, watching as he sped into the kitchen with purpose, clearly adamant on making you dinner in the middle of the night.

“Are you... Alright?” You raised an uncertain eyebrow as he started rummaging through the cabinets, either unresponsive or flat-out ignoring you as you stood awkwardly in the doorway.

With a hesitant step forward and a reluctant sigh, you placed your hand on Alastor’s shoulder and tried not to flinch away as he whirls toward you with wild eyes.

“Hm? Is there something that you need, my dear?” Alastor inwardly cringed at how relentlessly cheerful he sounded, like an overworked mascot at a run-down theme park.

You give the man a once-over, glaring at him, unimpressed as you noted how disheveled he looked. “Alright, what’s going on?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

You pinched your nose bridge with an exhausted sigh. He really didn’t want to be easy about this, did he? Alright, then. Time to be the bad cop.

“First, you come back home at an ungodly hour, looking like you’ve taken a tumble with a rabid racoon and lost,” Alastor rolled his eyes at that comment, “Second, you’re running around the kitchen the way you do whenever something’s bothered you. And you know that you can tell me if something’s bothering you,” your eyes soften towards him as you reach up and unclip his bow, and Alastor’s eyes follow your delicate, soft hands as you place it on the counter and smooth out his the front of his rumpled dress shirt.

“Look... I don’t know what’s going on, or what’s bothering you, or why the hell you came back so late, but...” your concerned gaze trailed up his form, and Alastor nearly shrunk like a raisin under your scrutinization.

“But you can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

“Anything?” Alastor pressed, his foolish heart answering the call for him as your voice grew hopeful, begging him to open up to you.

“Yes, anything. I mean it, Alastor.”

A silent moment fell between the both of you, one in which you felt as if all the tension in the world had suddenly been sucked into the kitchen, tightening the air as you held your breath and waited for Alastor to say the word, to tell you whatever was going on.

No matter how gruesome his actions, no matter the cost, you’d stay by his side. You’d bury the body and wipe the fingerprints; you'd dispose of the witnesses and give the police station false tips. Anything to keep Alastor safe. Anything to keep him by your side.

And Lord knows that you’d let the man get away with murder...

You can only sigh dejectedly as he gives his answer with apologetic eyes. “I’m afraid not, my dear. Besides,” he rubbed your shoulders soothingly. “I can get along just fine, don’t you worry your pretty little head over me.”

Alastor, goddamn him, had flashed the most heart-warming, knee-buckling smile down at you, genuine and unwavering, and nearly all of your resolve evaporated in an instant. How funny, how you both had such an effect on one another without the other noticing.

Alastor nearly cracked under your gentle touch, and that word, that ‘anything’ had begged him to prod you. Test the limits of your loyalty, of your attraction to him.

And Alastor was sure he wouldn't be disappointed.

But Alastor’s head, the instincts of a predator, the mind of a realist, had grounded him down to earth. The radio host knew better than anyone not to mix business with pleasure, and that involving you would risk your finding out about his line of work, and his... tendencies.

You sighed, your grip tightening on the counter before stepping back. Alastor never pried into your life, and it wasn’t your business to force him into telling you anything. “Alright... If you say so. But I’m always here, Alastor.”

A hesitant hand carefully inches towards his, and a soft gasp of surprise leaves your lips as Alastor’s hand comes to encompass yours with a squeeze.

“I know, my dear. And aren’t you just a sweetheart for looking out for me~?” You couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed with him as he tucked a hair behind your ear and fluffed up your hair, before stepping away towards the stove.

“Now, if you’ll allow me, I’m afraid that dinner is quite overdue.”

“About that, I’ve already gotten a little somethin’ for the both of us, so you don’t need to worry,” Alastor raised an eyebrow, a strong wave of déjà vu hitting him as you pushed him out of the kitchen, before pulling out the two bowls of jambalaya you'd gotten from the diner.

You’d warmed it up quite nicely, and though the meal was delicious, it couldn’t have even compared to the wonderful dish you’d made Alastor your first night sleeping at the manor, as he’d remarked several times during dinner, reveling in your flustered blush at the endless stream of praise.

After you’d both had your fill, and Alastor finished washing the dishes, you both started to head up to bed, and you tugged on his sleeve with a serious look.

“Please, please try to get a good night’s rest, Alastor,” he chuckled softly down at you, as if your concern was completely unbased, but you didn't laugh, clearly adamant about him taking better care of himself.

What a good little wife you’d make, taking care of him, cleaning up the house for his arrival, editing his scripts and making him dinner, though Alastor hated the thought of you having to lift a single finger in his stead.

Alastor filed those thoughts away for later as he smiled gently and cupped your cheek with his hand as he bent down to your level, his pointed nose nearly brushing against yours. “I promise, darling. I won’t worry you anymore,” before a scarlet blush could fully race across your cheeks, Alastor abruptly stood and patted your head with a grin. “Now, off to bed with you. I’d feel simply terrible if you lost sleep over me.”

Huffing in disbelief, you ignored the burn flaring against your cheeks as you turned on your heel with your nose in the air. “You’re lucky I care for you, so much...”

You grumbled all the way back to your room, though you cast another weary glance at Alastor as he retired for the night into his own bedroom.

His prominent slump in the way he walked, the slight limp in his footsteps, it all seemed so obvious to you that something was horribly wrong. But if he wouldn’t open up to you about it, you couldn’t do anything but watch your friend suffer, and you hated that.

Still, there was nothing you could do but lose shut eye as you fret over Alastor most of the night, tossing and turning as you struggled to get sleep while wondering what in the world Alastor was doing, creeping around in the dead of night, and wondering what had happened to him.

Honest to God, Al’, if you give me one more reason to care about you...

. . .

Unfortunately, despite your pleads and Alastor’s poorly kept promise, the evenings that followed had spiraled into a concerning routine for the radio host.

You could only watch with worry that slowly burned into frustration as Alastor would arrive home during near midnight, start dinner, – but eat in his own room, which pleased neither of you – and leave you downstairs with a tired goodnight, and rinse and repeat.

The mornings hadn’t fared much better, either. Instead of Alastor taking your elbow in his, humming a little tune as he walked the both of you to work, he’d wake up at a baffling five in the morning and leave you with a quick spot of breakfast and some money for the bus fare.

It was an endearing thought that showed Alastor still thought of you, but it did nothing to shake your concern for him.

Upon the fifth night of this draining charade, you were on the brink of tearing your hair out by the bunches. Fuck respecting Alastor’s boundaries, you couldn't watch him destroy himself anymore.

You had very thoroughly planned to corner him about this, but while waiting for Alastor’s return on the couch, the hour was so late that you had fallen asleep beside the fireplace.

It was only in the very dead of night that you were startled out of your uncomfortable place on the cushions by the click of the front door, and you looked over to the clock to see it was two in the morning.

About goddamn time.

Somehow, Alastor knew you were downstairs as soon as he entered the house, and didn’t flinch, jump, or even blink as you magically appeared in front of him, glaring up at him with ire. Or perhaps he really was just that exhausted.

“Hello, darling.”

God, he just looked so tired, so done with whatever was getting him down that it nearly broke you down. You hated seeing Alastor like this, drained and sapped of all his usual, passionate energy that had once drawn you in for so long.

“We need to talk. Now.”

You didn’t even wait for his response as you gently took his hand and led him into the living room, the ticking of the grandfather clock and the short, frustrated breaths you exhaled filling the tense air between you.

You forced yourself to be stern with Alastor as you sat across from him with your legs crossed and arms folded as your sharpened gaze scrutinized him.

Rubbing your forehead, you sighed and muttered into the awkward air, “Okay, I think it’s time that we’ve talked about your work hours.”

You rolled your eyes as he started with his usual excuses.

“I’ve told you, I’m doing just fine, darling. I promise, I'm still eating, and I'm just dealing with a few things-" you cut him off with a hand in the air, before leaning over and taking his hands in yours, trying at a less confrontational approach.

“But why? Why work yourself to the bone like this? What could possibly be stressing you out so much, and for so long? Alastor...”

Said radio host sighed softly, unable to meet your pleading eyes. Alastor truly couldn’t answer your inquiries, no matter how much you begged him.

He’d lose everything if he told you half of what went down behind closed doors, when the rest of society wasn’t paying attention to him.

Perhaps someday... But not now. The time just isn’t right.

“I... I admit, I haven’t been as attentive to you as I should’ve been. I apologize, truly.” Alastor’s fingers grasped yours as he stared into the wood carvings of the table legs. “I just don’t want you to worry over me. I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

"No, that isn't... Please, Al', just... Let me help you this time,” you sniffled and brought his chin up to meet your eyes that were on the verge of tears, and Alastor knew he couldn’t say no. Goddamn him if he ever let you cry because of his actions.

“Alright... You win, my dear,” he complies, albeit reluctantly, but the sheer joy that coursed through you was too alleviating for you to notice Alastor’s defeated posture as you literally jumped over the table to hug him.

“Good. Don't you scare me like that ever again, you."

You squeezed his midsection into an embrace, and it was then Alastor noted how comically short you were compared to him.

"I promise, ma chère."

He pet you with a chuckle, his other hand coming around to rub your shoulder as his mind was already racing back to the radio station, and your new arrangement.

"What does that mean?" You looked up at him from where you were, and Alastor simply shook his head and ran his hand through your hair.

"Nothing you should worry yourself over, darling. Now, I believe the matter at hand calls for a discussion," you blinked as he stood up and twirled you around, enjoying your delighted stream of giggles.

"Now, we should discuss the matter at hand," he pulled you into his chest with revived energy and you landed with a soft 'omph!'

"I believe that you, choosing to... Help me out, as it were," you raised an eyebrow as Alastor practically choked it out.

"Should imply that you are willing to become my assistant?" He raised an eyebrow down at you as your eyes widened with delight.

"Oh, yes! That'll be perfect!" You pulled closer to him with stars in your eyes, and Alastor's smile - not strained, nor exhausted of all energy, a real, genuine smile from him - grew as you beamed up at him.

“Don’t get too excited, now. Being my assistant is no easy task.”

You shook your head, grounded in your idea. “It’ll be worth it, if it helps you.”

“If you say so," Alastor grinned down at you. There it was, that relentless need to please him and care for him the way he did for you. Doing good brought its own rewards, he supposed. "But this will only work if Hugo allows it, you know.”

“Oh, boo! He’ll go with anything I ask of him. Worst-case scenario, he’ll tease me until the cows come home,” you pulled away from Alastor and crossed your arms, unaware of how he tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"I suppose that's a given... Though, I think he'll be just fine without you. The only real change will be your working area," you brightened at the prospect of being able to spend time with Alastor in his own work area, just the two of you, alone, and for the entire day.

"Then again, I’m not particularly fond of the idea of you running about the streets, running my errands for me...”

You shrug. “I’ll be fine! I didn’t manage to get kidnapped when I got you dinner that one time, so I’m sure I can handle myself,” you waved him off with a dismissive hand, and Alastor’s eyebrow raised.

“And wherever did you get our dinner from the other night, dearest?”

You flushed at the nickname and muttered, “Oh, just the diner across the road...”

“And what have I told you about wandering off, without me by your side?”

“It was one time! And I survived, so I’ll be alright! Just trust me,” you took his hands with pleading eyes. “Just have a little more faith in me? Please?”

“Oh, my pretty little assistant... What shall I ever do with you~?” Alastor curled a hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, enjoying the rapid thumping of his heart as pure contentment consumed him from the feeling of your skin against his.

He grinned down at you as you groaned and buried your face into a pillow, the smug bastard.

Though the gentlemanly of him was absolutely appalled at the idea of you lifting a finger to help him, Alastor figured that perhaps having a little helper around to deal with the less... gruesome aspects of his line of work could be fruitful.

He’d get his job done faster, and you’d be even closer to him than ever before.

And he’d have his shadows to send to your side to keep an extra eye on you, and he’d be there in a flash to come to your aid. Plus, this would be a delicious opportunity to indulge in his little assistant fantasies that had been consuming him as of late.

It would be all the more easier to woo you when you were so close to him, wouldn’t it?

“Now, darling, for you to become my fully-fledged assistant, we’ll need to make a few... adjustments.”

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Ok, so I am about to drop some Alastor-based BANGERS next chapter. I'm trying to focus more on the plot for now, so expect more development in the story later.

But first, let's all take a break from the beloved deer man and give Vox some love (totally not biased in any way whatsoever) because I've been starving everyone in Vox Nation 😭 So I gotta leave ya'll hanging for now.

See you next time!

. . .

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie, @fangirlanxiety74, @viviannagiorgini, @localmsifan, @justtnat, @karolinda007-blog, @mglawwica, @wonderlandangelsposts, @saitisfied, @repostingmyfavs, @weirdflower2024, @montis-posts, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @theperfectmangovoid, @slytherin4ever, @i-love-jafar, @itzlochnessie

#alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #yourdoorisunlocked #✨tHe pLoT tHiCkEns✨#Buckle up for the next chapter lmao #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #yandere alastor x reader #possessive behavior #obsession

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britcision · 1 year

Text

Today’s is a little shorter but I think you’ll all forgive me as we dive into… The Inevitable Rogue Attack 😈

It fucking kills me how many people are almost sympathising with Vlad but want Bruce to catch fire, y’all are giving me life and don’t worry, Bruce will not be getting away with his crimes

First:

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @arandomturd @viyatrix @stargirl1331

—————————

The Inevitable Rogue Attack

His kids were rioting. There were giggles, muffled screams, Steph was drumming her hands on the table hard enough to shake the place settings.

And Jason… Jason.

Bruce wasn’t quite sure what to do as Jason made his way back down to his seat, passing behind all three Amity Parkers to get there.

He’d hoped… well. He hoped Jason had understood his meaning. He hadn’t expected the boy to blanche like that, and he’d worried for a second that he’d misjudged.

But no, the smile Jason gave him on the stage was real. Bruce knew every detail of his son’s face, had worked doubly hard to be able to read those expressions when Jason had come back unfamiliar and grown.

There was something he’d missed. Obviously.

But he didn’t know what. Didn’t know what he had expected Jason to do, now that it came down to it. Bruce hadn’t said what he did thinking about Jason’s response.

He didn’t need him to respond at all, he just… he wanted Jason to know he cared. To be sure that Bruce loved him. That Bruce wanted him back.

That he would never be sorry enough for how his mistakes had cost Jason everything. Surely promising that before so many witnesses, so many people would show he meant it?

They’d need to talk. They would always need to talk. And perhaps Jason would talk to Alfred too, and Bruce could ask what he’d done wrong.

He hadn’t expected Jason to fall sobbing into his arms. But the way he’d paled, Bruce’s stomach had dropped like a stone.

Was it really such a surprise to hear him say sorry? Such a shock? Had he failed that much?

Making his way back to his own table, he let his gaze drift from Jason and land on the Manson girl. He was a little surprised to find that she was staring straight back at him, despite the chaos at her table.

Shouldn’t she be focused on Jason? He had just rather publicly expressed his affections, even if he’d been circumspect.

Bruce would have thought she was watching him for his response to that, except that he’d seen Damian look at dogfight ring owners with a warmer expression.

Even as their eyes met, he saw her hand scrabbling side ways, snatching at cutlery and then Danny grabbed it and wrestled it back to the table.

She’d grabbed a knife. He’d have been satisfied in his assessments of her being correct, but who the fuck was Jason hanging out with?

He made it back to his seat, looked over, and she was still watching him. Narrow purple eyes tracking him like she was waiting to pounce.

He’d been stared at at every gala since he was a child.

He’d stared down villains planning to cube him with lasers, while tied to their tables.

Samantha Manson was activating his bat senses. No wonder Jason liked her so much.

Perhaps the Mansons hadn’t been exaggerating the situation… but that still left the question of Danny. The “very important” relationship that Jason claimed was helping the pit.

Danny was supposedly here as Sam’s date too. Could it be an open relationship? Or had Sam and Jason not yet realised he was involved with them both?

Selina’s intel suggested the former, but Bruce would have to observe them more closely to determine which it was. And then there was Tucker Foley…

Tucker had been spending more time with Tim than the other three. Bruce would be relying on him for a debrief later, and his impressions of Masters.

The rest of his children had clearly met Danny as well, and he wished he could have taken at least one of them aside for a report before dinner.

As it was, he likely wouldn’t be able to talk to them until they got home. Perhaps Damian might be persuaded to take a brief break from the rest of the room…

Though his youngest did hate to miss the action. Especially if he perceived something important to be going on, and from the set of his shoulders, he did.

His tension did absolutely nothing to soothe Bruce’s own worries. Nor did reminding himself that Damian may be upset by almost anything.

Damian may still struggle socially, but he was perceptive and excellent at threat assessing. If he was tense, there was a reason.

He was so focused on his childrens’ table that he didn’t even notice Selina on her phone beside him.

Jason slipped back into his seat, feeling much better than he had leaving it. Who knew that getting a little fuckery in would settle him so much?

Well, anyone who’d met him. But other than that.

Dick leaned in before his ass hit the chair, both arms outstretched as if to cradle Jason in them.

“You fucking madlad,” he gasped, eyes bright with laughter and Jason rolled his eyes, grinning even as he slapped Dick’s hands away.

“What, it’s not like you’ve not done worse,” he said off handedly, settling himself in.

Steph was still drumming on the table, finishing up an epic solo by snatching up her knife and tinging it off her glass.

“And that’s the new high to beat on Bruce’s blood pressure chart, ladies and gentlemen, likely possible only through grand larceny!” She declared emphatically, tossing her knife back down.

And apparently inspiring Sam, whose eyes narrowed, still tracking Bruce as she grabbed at the table beside her. Danny, already on guard, leaned away a little.

“Sam, what are you… no Sam no!” He snatched at her arm just as she grabbed his steak knife, pulling it back to the table.

Steph’s brows rose, Dick leaned back a little, and Jason couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“You can’t stab a man at a gala, Damian’s already tried,” Tim put in with a slightly nervous chuckle.

They all seemed to think she’d go for it. Jason, only knowing her slightly longer, was completely sure she’d go for it.

He let his hand fall to cover hers and Danny’s too, squeezing softly. He kinda appreciated having a friend who’d kill for him.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but if Bruce dies tonight Tim inherits a lot more paperwork and he already doesn’t sleep,” he said casually, and Sam’s gaze snapped back to him.

Her eyes narrowed further for a moment and then she huffed, dropping the knife and sinking back in her seat. And still glaring at Bruce over at his table.

“It doesn’t have to be a lethal stabbing,” she pointed out coolly, glaring at her own utensils. Vegetarian options did not usually require steak knives.

A happy coincidence that it kept the sharp knives away from Damian too, really. He had switched from glaring at Danny to glaring at Sam assessingly.

Whatever conclusions he drew, they didn’t come before the waiters arrived, hot food still under cloches.

The table fell quiet for a moment as plates were handed out, and then food inspected. The dining room filled with the clink of cutlery and muted conversation.

Jason’s little stunt was definitely still causing ripples, and he felt a definite self satisfaction grow through him. Fuck Bruce and his surprises.

It was Tucker who brought the conversation back, clearing his throat while the others focused on food.

“So, Sam… on a scale from 0 to public proposals, where does Jason’s little kiss stand?” He asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows from his spot a whole Danny away.

Sam’s glare indicated that might not be far enough. Then she snickered and returned to her plate.

“Zero. We planned to fuck with their heads and we both know what it means, right Jason?” She asked, cocking a brow at the taller man.

Jason shrugged cheerfully, enjoying the way every siblings’ eyes narrowed at her lack of specificity. They weren’t off the fuckery list yet, knowing about Val or not.

“Exactly. Glad you agree though, I wasn’t sure if I should apologise. We didn’t exactly talk about that,” he added when she made a small questioning noise.

Sam shrugged, waving her decidedly blunt knife with mild disdain.

“You’re good. We’re on the same page, I don’t give a shit what anyone here thinks, and it’s gonna make the big explosion all the better.” She sounded distinctly satisfied with this turn of events, so Tucker raised his hands, surrendering.

Dick chuckled softly, shaking his head and digging into his food.

“Not to defend Bruce, but I don’t think he’s emotionally intelligent enough to try and corner Jason into a response,” he pointed out cheerfully and Jason snorted a laugh.

Which became a full laugh when Sam didn’t even glance over.

“Cop opinion, nobody asked.”

Dick pouted and Steph laughed at him, leaning in to continue either the conversation or the bullying. Jason wasn’t quite sure which, because Cass captured his attention with a gentle hand on his arm.

Glancing her way, she gave him a soft smile and signed,

‘Are you okay?’

And yeah. Without the pit’s biting green haze, Jason was a massive fucking sap, apparently. Or Bruce had shaken him more than he thought.

He managed a smile that wasn’t too shaky, signing quickly back.

‘I’m good.’ Not that he need bother, since Cass looked entirely unconvinced.

She didn’t call him on it though, slipping her hand into his and squeezing gently. And that was one of his favourite things about Cass.

Like most of the bats, she never really talked about shit, but in her case? It was often because she didn’t need to. She understood without needing him to find the right words.

Maybe that was why the whole ghost-emotional-language thing wasn’t freaking him out the way it probably should.

Maybe Cass was also part ghost. She’d died before.

And that was something he’d have to ask Danny about. He’d mentioned a “ghost sense” that he and Vlad could use to find each other.

Jason’s almost certainly wasn’t fully developed, just like his core, because to hear Danny tell it he could detect any ghost within a city block. Sometimes further.

Jason’d felt Vlad’s proximity like a chill down his spine right before he walked up so there was definitely something there. Hopefully it’d get stronger with time.

He’d rather have some actual warning before a threat got close, although now that he thought about it…

It had taken until tonight for Jason to really understand that the sense of peace which had washed over him at the graveyard and the coffee shop had been directly caused by Danny’s presence.

That had come long before Danny had been in eyeshot, both times. Maybe tonight Danny’s presence had overwhelmed him, masking Vlad until it was too late?

Or Danny’s was just that much bigger. Either way, Jason wasn’t fully sure it was the same sensation. Part of the same sense.

Vlad’s presence was an icy oil sliming down his back, but Danny’s was all warmth and peace. Could that make sense for a guy with an ice core? Or was there something else?

Part of it was the way the pit quieted, there was still an almost euphoric bliss that came with the lack of bubbling rage. In not being constantly at war inside his head.

Being able to fucking hear himself think. Fuck, the fact that it still felt like a luxury was damn depressing. The idea that one day it might be his normal again…

But it hadn’t been long enough since he’d seen Danny to just be that tonight. The pit had been building, but he’d spent the afternoon hanging out with Frostbite’s plant.

It had been ignorable. As normal as he’d been in the last year. And he’d still felt that warm rush as Danny came down the stairs. The second he saw him things fell into place.

That was probably the ghost sense. And maybe a bit of what Clockwork had told him about being the Fright Knight.

The ghost had said he’d always know if Danny was in danger, so it made sense that being able to see Danny and know he wasn’t in danger would feel good. He was doing his duty.

Definitely all that was.

By the time he’d tuned back into the main conversation, they’d moved back to the inevitable rogue attack. Currently? Betting on who it’d be.

“I could go for a Riddler attack,” Steph mused, waving a forkful of potatoes vaguely. “At least he’d know some riddles to keep us busy til the bats arrive.”

“Yeah, cause he totally cares about entertaining his hostages,” Tim snickered and shook his head. “Riddler’s on the run. Red Robin and Nightwing caught him shipping something explosive into the city. WE did the tech analysis,” he added for their guests.

None of whom looked surprised, which was interesting. Tucker seemed interested, but not concerned.

“Oh, did you get to have a look? I’m not much of a hardware guy beyond this beauty,” he said with a loving look to his PDA, then back to Tim.

Who shrugged.

“Personally? No, but I okayed the lab time and bumped them on the priority list. Some of them were a little close to one of our offices.”

“Risks of working in Gotham,” Dick agreed with a sigh, and this time he even filled in the next part himself, “despite if not because of the presence of the police.” He raised his glass to the table.

Steph and Cass cheered, Cass silently, and even Sam snickered. Cass took the next step though, shifting a little back up the curve of the table so they could all see her hands again.

‘Have not seen Poison Ivy in a while. Never met her.’

Sam sighed at that, raising her glass with a dry smile.

“And you won’t, at least tonight. If there was even a small chance she’d be in Gotham, I wouldn’t be,” she added to the Wayne brood, all of whom looked curious.

Jason could guess.

“Are your folks particularly worried about her?” Dick asked, glancing around for the older Mansons. Sam snorted a laugh but let Danny answer.

“Worried that given half a chance Sam will run away and join her. They’re both what you’d call “aggressive environmentalists”,” he added with air quotes.

Tim cocked a brow, grinning.

“That’s a funny way of spelling “ecoterrorists”,” he pointed out lightly, leaning in. “So how do they know she won’t come? She was in Gotham last I heard.”

Sam hesitated for a moment, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. None too close to their table; Jason had made it a condition that they not be near enough to talk to any others.

Then she leaned in, the entire table following suit. Danny and Tucker seemed equally curious, which was interesting.

“I’m not supposed to know this, and you can’t tell anyone, alright?” She hissed, and the Gothamites nodded along like each and every one of them weren’t about to run the Mansons down for supervillain connections.

Jason tried not to smirk.

Sam met each of their eyes, then continued, her voice low.

“So Tuck, Danny and I knew Vlad was coming to Gotham. I ran an Ivy check to see if my parents would let me come too, so we could keep an eye on him. And my grandma caught me.”

Tucker and Danny leaned back like this explained everything, eyes wide. Steph leaned in further, half out of her chair.

“What did she do?” She whispered.

Sam grinned.

“She recognised her. She was an activist herself when she was younger, really big on the environmental scene…”

“Ida Manson?” Damian asked sharply, head snapping up. Of course he’d know the most about the old environmentalist circles.

Sam looked mildly surprised but nodded.

“That’s her. She was an “anonymous donor” to Ivy a couple different times and obviously she knows about my parents. So she sent her two hundred grand and schematics to a construction company’s HQ that are bulldozing the Amazon.”

“Are your family all connected to supervillains?” Tim asked, fighting a smile. Sam cocked a brow at him.

“Other than being millionaires? Not really beyond voting for Vlad. Mom and Dad are big in the whole “respectability” thing, they wanna keep the family name as clean as possible.”

“And they don’t get much chance in Amity Park,” Tucker added with a snicker, “our villains aren’t really the kind you can buy.”

Sam hummed an affirmation and Danny made a face. He didn’t want anyone looking too closely into what had happened in Amity Park, but Jason figured it was inevitable.

About time Batman found out what he’d been missing.

All of his siblings looked thoroughly confused now, but Dick voiced the question.

“You guys have villains in Amity Park? More than just Vlad?” He asked carefully, sounding every inch the concerned civilian.

Sam rolled her eyes and laughed, setting down her cutlery.

“Not anymore,” she said dryly, reaching for her drink and raising it in a mock toast. Tucker and Danny copied, clinking their glasses together.

This did not illuminate the others. Or Jason, honestly. He’d seen the database, knew the basics, and knew that with Danny as the next Ghost King, his rogues were out of the picture.

He’d figured out that those dud calls from Amity Park? Never actually duds.

Danny had never asked if he knew about any of them as Robin, from that overlapping year between their deaths. Jason still wasn’t sure what to say if it came up again.

He took part in a confused look exchange with Tim, Dick, and Steph, shrugging to indicate that this really wasn’t something he was already in on. Half true.

Damian broke the short silence this time, glowering at all three.

“What villains are you speaking of? And what happened to them?” He asked curtly, his tone easily carrying his disbelief.

Jason’s eyes moved automatically to Sam, but it was Tucker who fielded this one with a casual shrug.

“Ghosts. We got a portal to the Ghost Zone, lot of ghosts decided they wanted to try and take down the town, and one became our local hero to stop the rest,” he explained like he was talking about mildly unseasonal weather.

Tim suddenly looked much less enamoured with his new bestie. Much more wary and confused.

“You… you’re kidding, right?” He asked half hopefully, and yeah, that woulda been Jason’s response a week ago too.

Today, he snickered and waved a two finger salute at his brother.

“Bud. Sat at a table with a literal zombie,” he added when Tim’s head snapped around. “This is so far from the weirdest shit you’ve heard.”

Tim coloured and huffed, puffing up in his seat.

“Yeah, but seriously Jason? Ghosts? Trying to take over an entire town? Someone must have heard something!”

“We sure tried telling them,” Danny agreed cheerfully, clearing his plate with untroubled enthusiasm. “The town got sucked fully into the Ghost Zone once, we only survived because my family made ghost shields.”

It wasn’t just Tim now, half the table looked utterly poleaxed. The only bat not blankly gaping was Cass, when Jason glanced back at her. And slowly, so did the others.

Cass was watching Danny thoughtfully, brows furrowed just the tiniest bit. Then she gave a small nod.

‘Truth,’ she agreed, and Tim exploded.

“What? No way! A whole American city can’t just pop off the map and not be noticed! Someone would have to know?” He sputtered.

Tucker gave him a sympathetic pat on the hand.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. The federal government invented a whole new department just to keep news from getting out. They’re pretty good too,” he added with a grimace.

Tim gaped at him. Dick, suddenly all business, leaned in with a frown.

“A secret government department dedicated to hiding ghosts?” He asked, and yeah, Jason remembered this from the database.

Seemed that with Cass’s clear, Dick was gonna take this seriously. That was… a little refreshing.

Sam gave him a scathing once over, but clearly decided that bullying hours were on hold.

“They’re technically called the Ghost Investigation Ward. Don’t google it or some extremely unpleasant men in white suits will come along to ask why.”

“If we can’t google it, how do we know you’re telling the truth?” Steph asked, her demeanour equally serious.

The three Amity Parkers exchanged thoughtful looks, then Tucker shrugged and scooted his PDA down the table.

“You can look it up on mine. I’ve cracked their systems before, they can’t backhack me,” he explained when Tim nearly jumped on the device.

A small smile broke through Dick’s serious face as Tim got to work, Steph leaning in.

“Seriously, I know I’m only a cop in Bludhaven, but you guys really like admitting to federal crimes,” he said lightly, driving a steep wedge into the rising tension.

Jason snickered along with Danny and Tucker, nodding to Tim.

“You say, like Tim isn’t probably committing the actual same crime two seats down,” he remarked and Dick actually grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, if he wants to borrow my handcuffs he can just ask, but the work ones aren’t for fun stuff.”

Tim flipped him off without looking as Tucker choked, suddenly very interested in his mostly empty plate. Then Tim looked up, expression grave.

“He’s not kidding. They’re syphoning a ton of federal funding, most of it into Amity Park,” he declared and Tucker leaned in to swipe at the screen.

“Non-Amity Park IPs can’t access any of our weather or news stations either,” he explained casually, like they weren’t uncovering a major scandal.

But then, Jason reminded himself, no one had done anything about this for around six years. Why would that change now?

Steph snagged the PDA this time, scrolling down a couple times then stopping to frown at Danny.

“Why does the weather station have something called Fenton Watch?” She asked and Danny groaned, cheeks flushing.

“Thaaaaat reports if my parents are gonna be on the roads… their bad driving is kinda legendary?” He offered sheepishly as Tucker snickered.

“It’s for the definitely-not-street-legal tank I told you about,” he added for Tim alone.

Before any of the others could jump on that juicy sentence a slender hand landed on Jason’s shoulder.

“Well don’t you all seem to be having fun?” Selina purred, smiling down at the table before leaning in. “I just thought I’d drop by and let you know, darling, I’ve already texted Aunt Harley about Bruce’s little stunt.”

She dropped a gentle kiss on the top of Jason’s head, which was fucking weird but… in a good way, patted his shoulder and moved on.

How the fuck had the pit ever convinced Jason that no one cared about him? Although to be fair, there had been a lot less open affection when people still thought he’d shoot them.

It was just a revelation every time, finally getting to look at these litte gestures, these people as just himself. Less bitter, less angry, less certain it was a lie or a trap.

Part of him didn’t want to lose the way it sent soft curls of affection through all the places anger used to burn. Didn’t want to take any of this for granted.

It had been so, so long since he’d felt like he was actually loved. Before his death even. Fuck, it was something he hadn’t had for most of his life.

It was completely different from just knowing.

He’d known Alfred loved him. Known Dick cared, the way he’d thrown himself headlong into bringing Jason home, no matter how many times he nearly got shot.

Knew Cass and Duke both cared without even the shadow of his death between them. But actually feeling it, warm and golden in his chest?

He hadn’t made it easy for any of them. Had fought against even wanting it for so long, sure he didn’t deserve it. Sure he couldn’t have it, so wanting it would only break him.

But here it was. Even Selina standing up to fight his corner, by using Harley as a weapon if needed.

Harley was probably banned by the Geneva Convention so he wouldn’t hold it against her to keep her own claws clean.

He just. His family cared. Even if all that was hurt was his feelings. That was enough for them to even go against Bruce.

(And fuck he knew how stupid that thought was, each new generation of Robins seemed more likely than the last to call B on his shit.

Damian might be slightly less likely than Steph to say the words “go fuck yourself” but he got the sentiment across.

Jason had called B to task plenty of times when he was being an ass to one of them. It just hit different when it was the other way round.)

Dick and Steph were back on their gleeful bullshit, grinning broadly at Jason even as he had his little moment. He wasn’t even gonna look at the rest of the table.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Steph sang happily, dancing in her seat and beaming across the hall at Bruce.

Sam frowned and looked around the table, the full complement of Waynes all grinning broadly bar one. Damian still mostly looked annoyed by the whole affair.

Which was basically how he smiled anyway.

“Wait, did she just say Harley? Like Harley Quinn?” She asked and yeah, oops, they did have a lot to catch each other up on.

Not today though.

“Pretty sure she’s Harley like the motorcycle,” Tim explained off handedly, shooting his own grin in Bruce’s direction, “you’re never allowed to tell her I said it but she’s a little too old to be called Harley like Harley Quinn.”

Didn’t exactly answer the question, but sounded enough like an answer that it seemed to pass. Jason was a little impressed.

“The effect will be about the same though,” Dick added with a snicker, arm cocked on the back of his chair to grin across at Bruce.

Fuck, had the old man been staring at them this whole time? Delightful. Jason very deliberately Did Not look over, finishing his own meal.

The rest of dinner was more reserved, the bats taking Selina’s intervention as a sign to let the heavy stuff drop. Might as well wait until they could do some more research.

The Amity Parkers followed suit and Cass settled, enjoying the time with her family. Teasing Dick, laughing with Steph, and Jason.

She could still see the tension in him, the same as Jason had always had, for as long as she’d known him. Could almost feel the pieces of him that twanged with every move.

She had never seen him seem so… free. He’d been getting better, letting her and Duke and Steph persuade them he was still family. That he was wanted.

It had made parts of the tension worse, and he’d carried himself every day with the fear that he’d hurt them. That they’d change their minds.

She still felt the same fear, sometimes. Knew there was nothing to be done for it but wait for him to come back, hold him close, and not let him push her away.

Because Jason could hurt them. Any of the bats could do serious damage, but most of them not by accident.

Jason lived every day with a weight around his neck, chained to the knowledge that all it’d take was one surge of the pit.

One break in his control and he might hurt one of them in ways nobody could fix.

Cass couldn’t imagine living with that kind of weight. She’d known she was a weapon, raised and trained to violence so she could be pointed and released.

Her father had never understood that she was still the one in control, not him. That she’d obeyed because she chose to, because she loved him, because she craved affection.

That she could walk away as easily as she had, find another family who would love her, and understand that there were… gaps inside her.

Places where she still didn’t know what fit. What to do, what to say when things were hard and her throat got tight. What to do when she messed up and hurt someone.

But at least she knew it would only be her words. Her actions. The hurt she made might be deeper for it and she was still so scared it might one day be too much, but…

She’d never see their blood on her hands.

Jason still did, sometimes. She’d see it when he looked at Tim and his throat closed up. When he stopped breathing for way too long.

When they’d all be teasing him, watching closely, weighing the green in his eyes, and he’d go to snap back at Tim and bite his tongue so hard it bled.

Cass hadn’t been there. Hadn’t seen how bad it had gotten, when Jason first came back. And maybe that was a blessing because she couldn’t have fought him.

Seeing the pain that still wound through him was enough to choke her. Seeing it then, when Bruce refused to believe it was him, Tim’s throat in his hand?

When the pit had his ear, all rage and hate and betrayal?

Her family had nearly broken before she got back. There had nearly been nothing for her to return to.

Instead, she’d come back to a stalemate. Jason’s rage tempered, forced solely onto Bruce while he fought himself to keep the rest of them out of it.

To a new brother, if one who demanded they stay out of his side of the city, who’d fire a shot if they broke his rules.

And maybe it was the same fear, that looming dread that one day she’d hurt them too that had pulled her to him. To reassure herself that even with all he’d done, Jason was still there.

To reassure Jason that there was nothing he could do to lose his family. If they could accept her, gaps and all, they would find space for him.

Maybe it was their shared time with the league, finally free enough to exchange what words they had.

Cass could read anyone. Oh, it wasn’t a science; body language was an art, every subtle twitch and motion possibly meaning a million things, different to each individual.

It took a little time to work out anything beyond the broad strokes, to observe and understand what each person meant by the smaller gestures.

Pain was easy. Physical or emotional, it did a couple things every time. Tension, aggression, training. The things she’d needed when violence was her only language.

Happiness was harder. Worry, stress, the things behind those were still tricky for her to nose out, but she was learning when to push and when not to.

She didn’t always know why, but that was what her words were for.

Jason hadn’t taken any time at all. He’d been as trained by Bruce as any of them, gone through all the rigorous exercises to control himself, hide any traces of emotion if needed.

Cass could never fully put her finger on why it just… didn’t work. Jason could do a poker face better than anyone she knew. Could lock every muscle, go still as stone.

He’d never have survived the league if he couldn’t. And yet she’d just look at him even when the pit wasn’t in control, when rage hadn’t stripped him back to nothing at all, and it was just…

Written all over him. Every worry, every stress, every half smothered moment of hope. She’d taken one look at him in the league and Known him.

It felt like he knew her too, in ways that no one but Damian got close to. Knew the weight of her past, the weight of her mistakes, and how much it burdened her.

He’d come back on the 25th changed, happy in a gentle way, the barest lines of pit rage left. And then the day after Danger Twink there he was again; moving light as air with that choking tension gone.

The longer she saw him with Danny, the more certain she was.

Jason had never been in less danger in his life. Danny had that same air of death, but he was also more alive than anyone she’d ever seen.

And he’d give his right arm if it kept the people around him safe.

It was kind of funny, really. Just like Jason, Danny was surprisingly easy to read.

Oh, young people tended to telegraph more, their emotions writ loud, and she had a good read on Sam and Tucker already. But just like Jason, there was no element of guesswork with Danny.

She didn’t have to wait and keep watching or check her results. It was just… obvious. Heart on his sleeve, even when they talked about the dangers of home.

She could almost feel his curiosity lapping at the edge of her awareness as desserts were brought out, even without looking at him.

She kept to the curved end of the table though, so the rest of them could see her more easily. It still felt… strange doing that. Making herself noticeable.

Even as she’d gotten used to talking, with her hands or with her mouth, she still had trouble with the idea of standing out. Making herself noticeable.

And of course at galas, she usually didn’t even let on she could sign. It was possible that game was up, but anyone else who knew sign was probably less likely to be an ass about her needing it.

But her family wanted to know what she had to say. Valued her input, even for unimportant things. And if Jason had to practice letting them love him, she had to practice letting them hear her.

Metaphorically, sometimes. They didn’t seem to mind.

And she was having more fun than she’d expected tonight. She enjoyed recon, gathering information, but she was enjoying just talking to Sam and Danny too.

They fit with Tucker the way Tim fit with his Young Justice friends. Confident, sure of themselves and their connection.

She’d like to see them in action, although probably not tonight. Not everyone brought their heroing gear to fancy parties. Although most people did in Gotham.

Tonight’s event had been quiet so far if Vlad didn’t count.

It wasn’t destined to last.

The dining hall had mostly emptied out, the party moving back into the main hallways when a dozen windows shattered.

Guests didn’t so much scream as gasp in surprise, although one young woman sounded distinctly angry as a spray of glass splashed into her new drink.

Cass still wasn’t sure she approved of the hall’s sugar-glass as opposed to bulletproof strategy, but she could appreciate the effect.

Just like the movies, the crash and scatter were very impressive, with very little chance of actually hurting anyone.

Personally Cass thought a few more rogues could do with slamming face first into bulletproof glass.

It might not deter the attacks, but it’d either dampen the enthusiasm or bring out the bazookas. Either way, heavier weapons came off the streets.

She was a little surprised to see Killer Croc bursting through the large double doors though. Not quite enough to pause on her way to a dark corner, but she noted it.

He usually preferred to stick to overt mobsters rather than dirty his teeth on Gotham’s elite. Luckily, he wasn’t the type to leave anyone guessing.

“Where the fuck is Harvey Dent?” He roared, grabbing an attendant by the throat and lifting him off the ground.

Cass’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the number of assailants, the question marks on their suits. Riddler must not have been as down as Tim assumed, and that could be bad news.

On the other hand, if Riddler was here they’d know by now.

She’d lost most of the others when the crowd surged together, contracting, and finally reached up to push a comm into her ear. Heard Sam yell in the background.

“CASS!”

And felt her chest compress for just a moment.

She’d seen Sam Manson at galas before, two or maybe even three times. She’d always seemed annoyed, resentful, angry underneath that pretty smile.

They’d exchanged nods. Waves. Nothing that should have Sam screaming for her when trouble finally broke.

Then there were other screams, and Cass has to fight a smile. No, Sam wasn’t scared for her. Sam sounded absolutely fucking furious.

Her parents must have been right to worry too, because from the sound of it she’d taken it out on whichever unfortunate body Cass had used to slip away.

She’d have felt bad if she was less certain Sam would have loved to deck anyone at the gala anyway. It was a little sweet that she’d been clocked as a civilian.

Someone to protect. That might be nice one day.

Sam was still swearing to beat the band, audible even as the goons tried to gather the fragmenting crowd together.

Cass skidded under a refreshment table, comm in her ear coming to life.

“Report.” Bruce. Not doing the Batvoice, so somewhere in the pile. Possibly intentionally, if Croc was after Dent.

“Out,” she hissed, sticking to the edges of the room as she let her suit blend her into the shadows. Much easier than dresses, whatever Steph said.

“Out,” came Tim’s voice, sounding a little rushed. Sloppy.

“Out,” Steph called, and Cass was a little surprised at that. The other girl had been close to their civilians too, and she hadn’t thought they’d both make it undetected.

“In,” Dick whispered, voice barely audible. But Cass could hear Sam still yelling when his comm picked up, “With Manson, lost Hood.”

So. Not as undetected as all that.

“Out,” Damian huffed, sounding thoroughly annoyed with all of them. More so a moment later when Cass slipped into the same shadow. “Amateurs.”

Jason just grunted, obviously not in a position to subvocalise. Obviously still in.

A bare second for analysis, then-

“Nightwing. Leave your civilian with Hood and extract. Hood, remain engaged. Eyes on Jason Todd-Wayne.”

Which, to a listening stranger, would sound like a protection order instead of what it was; a reminder that Jason in particular was being watched.

Jason couldn’t have put a more articulate “fuck you” into the words themselves as he grunted again, still deep in the crowd.

Poor Jason. He always hated being the one to be rescued.

Too bad for him Cass quite liked the chance to do it. Red Hood was just so big and tanky, everyone expected him to come charging to the rescue.

Swooping in to save his day was extra fun because of that. He couldn’t even hide his pout behind his helmet in civilian clothes.

Cass and Damian made their way to the back rooms, dodging goons who must have come in through the windows here.

They were still sweeping the halls, grabbing any guests who’d managed to get out of the main halls and muscling them back in.

It was easy for the bats to duck into one of the cleared rooms. Both shucked their suits to reveal their night gear, Damian pulling his cape and domino from a concealed wall safe.

Cass just needed her mask, which fit inside her Black Bat suit pocket beneath the main suit. She wasn’t surprised Damian had been layering too.

Most of the bats did, or at least kept a domino on them for plausible deniability. After all, it wasn’t called the surprising or unexpected rogue attack.

Both now fully suited up, Cass and Damian exchanged looks.

‘Ready?’ Cass asked, and Damian tutted.

“Fenton is a meta,” he reaffirmed, eyes narrowing behind him domino. Cass ruffled his hair and headed for the door.

“Agree,” she reassured him softly, and felt him startle. Poor kid. Damian had plenty of his own issues around being heard. Belonging. “Best not out.”

His brows furrowed and he rolled his arms, but followed.

“Todd needs to know what he’s dealing with,” he grumbled as they listened at the door.

Cass kinda wished she’d left a mouth on her mask, but the reasons not to had outweighed letting the others see her smile. They could usually tell anyway.

“Disappeared together,” she reminded Damian softly instead, attention now split to the hall outside. Things were quieting down.

Damian’s pout grew more pronounced, then he shook himself and refocused.

“Perhaps we will see what he is made of now,” he mused under his breath.

Cass considered reminding him that it might not be safe for Danny to use whatever meta abilities he had, but decided not to. After all, her family more than proved that there were people out there who didn’t much care for “safe”.

It was also their job to make sure no one else had to put themselves in harm’s way. Even if they were curious.

Pushing out into the hall, she and Robin took the high road.

Still buried in the middle of the crowd, Dick kept a hand on Sam’s shoulder as they were buffeted around. Keeping them together, as close as they could.

He might have worried about doing it except that she, clearly also used to rogue attacks and crowd control, had wrapped his tie around her fist like she had him on a leash.

Yeah, he kinda fucking loved Sam Manson. Perfect little sister vibes.

He’d managed to get his earpiece in undetected, taking advantage of her telling off some unfortunate soul who’d cut between her and Cass.

They were all being herded towards the dining hall again now, surrounded by a circle of goons and prodded as Croc’s yells directed them.

“Everybody shut the fuck up and stick together! We’ll be out of your hair just as soon as we have all your valuables and that little fucker Dent!”

Dick was pretty damn sure he saw the same lady who’d been talking to them when Vlad showed up slip earrings, bracelet, and her fucking phone into that silly fan.

Apparently it wasn’t just a weirdly anachronistic accessory. Good for her.

Through the doors he could see the henchmen beginning to split the crowd into smaller groups, grabbing and pushing and fuck, he’d have to drop Sam off before reaching that.

Luckily he was pretty sure he could already see Jason, and he leaned into Sam’s ear.

“Look, I’ll be able to look for Cass better on my own, they’re splitting us up and I don’t want her on her own. Can I drop you with Jason and the guys? So I can tell Cass you’re okay,” he added quickly when her head snapped round, eyes narrowed.

She studied his expression for a moment then snorted, digging into a very well concealed pocket in her skirt and pulling out what looked a lot like a tiny taser.

He was gonna get Steph the name of her dressmaker. If they didn’t already use the same one.

“Whatever. This’ll help you get through the crowds, I can get to the guys,” she grumbled back, not quite shouting over the noise of the crowd.

Dick gave her his best apologetic grin, and took the taser to see what it’d do. Always nice to see a new toy.

“Cass’ll have my ass if she even thinks I left you with some of these creeps so unless you have-” before he could finish the sentence Sam had already pulled out a second, larger taser.

She gave him the baby one.

Stifling a laugh, he checked on Jason’s position again, noted the three people between them, and gave Sam a gentle nudge in the right direction.

“Alright, alright, you’re clearly more prepared than me, but we’re nearly there so jet.”

Sam gave him a sarcastic half smile, the man behind her jumped about a foot in the air, and Dick flicked his comm.

“Hood, confirm receipt,” he hissed, sticking close until he got another confirming grunt from Jason.

Then he made his way to the edge of the crowd, tucking his shoulders in to shrink his silhouette. A guy couldn’t hang out with Superman and Clark Kent without learning a few things.

It was a little closer than he’d have liked, but he managed to duck into a shadow just before crossing through the dining room doors.

A pair of goons hurried to close the party inside and he hurried to find a good spot to change. And a thought struck him.

“Hey, anyone think it’s too late to page in Signal?”

A series of muffled giggles and gasps came back, mostly muted, and Bruce sighed heavily.

“Fine. Going dark, coordinate yourselves around Red Robin.”

Someone must have decided to fish Bruce Wayne out of the crowd. Hoping Jason wasn’t too close, Dick pulled out his phone and a domino from separate pockets.

Duke might get to meet Danny in person after all. It was only 8pm.

Oh, and there was one more thing.

“Manson gave me a new taser.”

Jealous grumbles filled the air and Dick grinned as he stashed his jacket and tie.

“She also kept a bigger one for herself. We’ve got some spicy civilians today,” he commented cheerfully, testing the weight of the new taser as he moved to the windows.

Very nice, small and sleek and light, in a white and green scifi design. Just the thing some rich society types might give their little girl to keep her safe in Gotham.

Maybe he’d even get a chance to use it; escrima sticks did not fit well under tight trousers. Oh, there was a pair hidden, but where was the fun in that?

And maybe if he was extra lucky, Sam’d let him take a look at the bigger one after the fun was over. Preferably not on the receiving end.

Gotham was… confusing. Vlad didn’t know what to make of it.

These people were so damn scandalised by him putting a gentle hand on a young adult, yet armed goons and some form of crocodile man were apparently completely normal.

Oh, there was the odd cry, the occasional scream as a couple of hundred members of Gotham’s high society were pushed around, but from the quiet chatter surrounding him, this sort of nonsense was expected.

Amity Parkers reacted more than this to ghost attacks, and no one was ever seriously hurt during those. Not a lot more, obviously, but still.

He was almost becoming annoyed.

If he didn’t have his ghost sense he might have thought this “Killer Croc” was a ghost of some kind. He had that love of drama, the need for noise and attention.

It made Vlad think of Skulker really. Still, it was almost nice to know that the living could be just as dramatic. Ghosts had to come from somewhere after all.

Vlad could tolerate a little drama in other people, but he certainly had no time for it himself.

None at all.

Nope.

Still, there was something decidedly amusing about the whole situation. With the barest fraction of his powers he could likely deal with the whole crew.

Hells, they were few enough it’d hardly been a strain to overshadow every single one of the three dozen or so goons.

But that wouldn’t be fun now would it?

From what his neighbours were saying, though still none directly to him, the end result of these little messes was as predictable as the event itself.

Gotham had so many masked vigilantes at least one or two were sure to be close, and then the evening could continue. Perhaps a pause to redistribute valuables.

Personally, Vlad would prefer Gotham’s vigilantes take their time to show up. He’d been on the receiving end of Daniel’s heroic tendencies plenty of times.

It would be quite entertaining to be the one being saved. They’d all been separated into groups of fifteen, each with their own goon minder holding out what Vlad was sure was a fucking pillowcase for valuables.

A pillowcase. It didn’t even have handles. Yes, definitely better treat this as an amusing diversion because otherwise he’d have to be insulted.

Still, Vlad was content for now to sit on the floor, eyes scanning the room mostly patiently for his little badger.

That green scaly gentleman was stalking between the clusters of guests, ranting and raving about this “Dent” he was looking for.

Vlad doubted he’d get results, but perhaps once this whole mess was tidied up he would look into acquiring his services. Depending on how well he did when things got… messy.

He wasn’t paying him much mind at the moment though, because he’d just caught sight of a familiar flash of white hair.

Just Jason. No Phantom yet, but that was fine. And what a fun potential opportunity to see what their new halfa was like under pressure…

And as expected, there was Daniel, tucked close to the boy’s side. Still with Samantha and Tucker too, which was sure to make Daniel happy.

Adjusting himself more comfortably, Vlad settled in to wait. Daniel would make some sort of move soon. He was dimly aware that Brucie Wayne had just been pulled from the crowd.

Sam leaned in over Danny’s left shoulder, keeping her voice low.

“So Vlad’s fucking staring at us across the hall like the biggest creep on earth,” she hissed, and Danny automatically almost jolted to look.

Caught himself just in time. Leaned back against her, most of his attention still on Killer Croc.

“Think he had anything to do with this?” He asked under his breath, his gaze now meandering slowly across the other groups.

Yup, there was Vlad. Staring straight at him. Smiling when their eyes met, before Danny’s could dart away.

Ew.

“Does he look super expectant to anyone else?” Tucker whispered from behind them. Jason let out a soft growl, probably without even thinking about it.

Danny slipped a hand into his, squeezing gently.

Calm-relax-help is coming

Was not quite prepared for the shock that flashed back before Jason got it under control.

Jason hadn’t officially told Danny that the other Waynes and associates were the bats yet. He kinda didn’t have to.

Even if Jason had left the life after his death, that didn’t mean the family had. Still, it also wasn’t Jason’s secret to share, so Danny pretended to ignore it.

Much more productive to try and work out what the fuck Vlad’s angle was. Some kind of trick where he could play the hero and cozy up to Bruce?

Could he have orchestrated an attack with some of Gotham’s rogues? So far all of Croc’s demands had been for valuables and Harvey Dent, whoever that was.

There were surprisingly few actual valuables forthcoming too. Danny and Sam had obediently dropped their phones into an offered pillowcase, and wrestled Tucker’s precious PDA from his fingers.

The question mark guy had taken one look at it and tossed it back, declaring it junk. Aaaand Danny had shoved a fist into Tucker’s mouth while Sam reminded him that if he defended Ida’s worth, they’d take her.

He still wasn’t happy, but he had her in hand so he’d settled a lot more easily than the alternative.

Still, none of the pillowcases were really bulging, which was kinda weird. Most of the jewellery that had been on prominent sparkly display had kinda vanished when the windows shattered.

Some bigger pieces had been handed over, but Danny would swear the tiny harmless old lady in their group had had full bangles, necklace, earrings, and six rings on top of the ornate hair comb she’d handed over.

Weirder still, the goons seemed more annoyed than surprised.

“C’mon, don’t make me shake your fucking pockets out,” their guy growled, sending a kick at a young man near the edge of their circle. “Phones, wallets, jewellery, now!”

A single phone was passed up. An utterly unbelievable four from a group of fifteen. Danny raised his hands, trying to keep his Obsession on the back burner.

This wasn’t his city. Not his job. And if he changed to fight these guys, he’d be putting his friends in danger.

That last part was carrying most of the weight, honestly. And he’d finally lost his No Rogues streak.

Bummer. He’d been going for a campus record.

For tonight though, he could also distract himself with what the fuck Vlad was up to.

Pillowcase might be the one tossing his weight around, but long experience had taught Danny that he couldn’t protect anyone if he got caught in Vlad’s machinations.

That knowing little fucking smirk on Vlad’s face when their eyes met. The fucker was up to something, Danny knew it.

Well, there was one way to work out what. Glancing over at Jason, Danny made a face.

He’d understand. And maybe Danny could warn him a little better this time? Cuz if he got that overwhelmed every time, it’d be a real problem when they started training.

Then again, Danny had had a hard enough time with strong auras when he first got started, and he’d had a full core. Jason didn’t and Danny was… well, a lot bigger than Skulker or Technus.

Also Jason was still holding his hand. Which he had completely forgotten. Yup, his focus was totally great today.

He leaned in towards Jason instead, trying not to get differently distracted by the large man’s tension. Lots of muscles, well fitted suit, it would happen to anyone!

Except him. Today. Because there was a problem.

“Hey… I’m gonna try and get a read on Vlad, but that means I’ve gotta extend again. You good?”

It took every single second of every one of his four years with the League of Assassins to stop Jason flushing cherry red.

Great.

Best evening ever.

Highlight of his life.

His fucking king was checking if he was gonna pop a boner if he did some intel. Maybe he shoulda just fucking stayed in his damn grave.

It Did Not help that he could feel Danny’s concern creeping along the back of his neck like the lightest touch. Although…

Brow furrowing a little, Jason tried to chase down the feeling. Better than dealing with his own emotional state, which was Not Going There.

Danny felt… worried? About him? Not in the totally mortifying way Jason expected either. This felt almost soft.

Like he worried Jason might be hurt or upset if he did it.

There was a chance Danny hadn’t noticed.

Jason had been overwhelmed by Frostbite in the Far Frozen, it’d be a perfect cover if Danny hadn’t noticed the… key difference between the two.

Although the distinct amusement he could feel radiating off Sam suggested that she might have. Great again.

Since when could he feel human emotions?

How sure was he that Sam was still just human. She wasn’t a halfa, that was clear because there was no way Danny and Vlad could have missed it.

There were a lot of things between living and dying though. Jason was beginning to wonder just how many of them toed the edge of that particular line.

For now, he cleared his throat and tried to work out how best to seem like a totally-not-turned-on-by-your-looming-presence-in-my-every-breath guy.

Maybe it’d be better if he knew what to expect.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go for it.”

In all his years as a halfa and eventually the king of ghosts, Danny had never actually felt someone just turn themselves off before.

Jason’s aura shut down like he’d flicked a switch, his face suddenly completely unreadable. It was fucking weird, the sudden void where he’d been used to ignoring a background hum.

Maybe he’d fucked Jason up worse than he’d thought before. All those thoughts and feelings could be overwhelming, and Danny had tried not to send any messages beyond his presence, but…

His fucking presence was kind of a lot these days. Even he didn’t know how loud it’d get, it had been a long time since he’d faced down Pariah Dark.

And that had been a life or death situation. He’d been ready to deal with it. He’d kinda sprung this on Jason today.

Fuck, just the thought he might have hurt Jason twanged on the strings currently pulled taught by his Obsession. Made him want to wrap the other halfa up and Protect him from the world.

Which was exactly the thing that’d hurt Jason in the first place. No way he’d wanna deal with that again.

He was about to apologise for even mentioning it when he felt Jason slowly open up. Reaching back, probing and…

Danny didn’t try and look. Didn’t want to know what his words had caused which made the other man do That.

He didn’t need to though. Embarrassment-worry-hope spilled from that questing contact, and Danny made a specific effort not to think about it.

Jason was a big guy. Big and strong and clearly worked for his strength. Being caught in any moment of weakness probably sucked for him.

Hard to relate to, since even though Danny was technically the biggest and scariest fish in the whole damn ocean, he’d been a scrawny little fuck for his entire full life.

He’d been ground in the dirt long after he’d had the strength to stop it, and feigning weakness had kinda kicked that whole ego thing in the ass.

It helped when he was having to relive his most embarrassing highlights to prepare Jason for the “fun” of developing halfa powers.

Relief came through loud enough that Danny nearly smiled, nearly sent something back to reassure him, but he held off. It… didn’t feel intentional?

And yeah, very normal that Jason hadn’t liked the near-telepathy Danny’s empathy gave him into his thoughts and feelings before. It was invasive.

Buuuuut that worked for him when the one he was invading was a creepy old fuck with the occasional world domination scheme.

He glanced up when Jason cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go for it.”

Danny wasn’t gonna insult him by calling him a liar. Closing his eyes, he did his best to tamp down his presence and just reach across the hall.

Watching their whispered discussion with interest, Vlad almost wished he could hear them. Or spread his own energy the way Daniel could, far enough to read them from a distance.

That must have been what they were discussing though, because a moment later he could feel the stroking Presence of Daniel across his very soul.

Let the boy look. He had nothing to hide.

Danny’s eyes snapped open, blatantly dumbfounded.

“He’s fucking waiting for me to rescue him,” he hissed, almost loud enough to attract their goon’s attention.

Luckily another couple were busily insisting they simply did not own a cellphone. In Gotham city. In this day and age.

Just tell the guy to go fuck himself why don’t you.

None of the others seemed to know what to do with Danny’s revelation, though Jason’s lips pressed into a very thin line.

Danny would put money on repressing laughter.

Sam seemed to be on the same wavelength, brightening up and leaning in to Danny’s other ear.

“Wanna save literally anyone but him?” She murmured under her breath, glancing around the room.

Danny clapped a hand over his mouth ahead of any wayward giggles.

“SAM. There are bats about!” He hissed through his fingers and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah so stay Fenton. You could still punch Killer Croc, it’s not like he has ectoblasts.”

Why did she have a point.

Why was Jason suddenly grinning at him, so bright with glee-mischief-fuckery Danny didn’t even need his aura to see it.

“Danny. Remember what my brother called you?” He asked quietly, leaning in almost close enough to be… distracting. Which was totally the only reason it took Danny a moment to twig.

Longer than Tucker anyway.

“Danger twink,” the Black man whistled with a wicked glee of his own. A grin spread across Danny’s own face.

“Oh… hell yes.”

As usual, Bruce found himself in a position to fully agree with his children.

Galas sucked.

Of course, that wasn’t unique to this one. He felt the same way most of the time. He understood the importance of keeping up appearances, but he’d rather spend the night asleep if he couldn’t be working.

Usually, the rogue attack was a pleasant diversion. A chance to watch his family at work. Bruce didn’t mind playing hostage for them.

Today, he was just frustrated.

He needed to talk to Jason. Needed to catch up with Tim, get whatever intel he’d acquired. Needed to get Jason away from this Danny and keep him safe.

The Riddler’s men pulling him from the crowds while they split them into manageable chunks was unfortunately expected. Brucie’s friendship with Harvey Dent was well known.

As little as he liked it, Batman preferred having some control of the situation. What he couldn’t understand was why Killer Croc and Riddler would both think Harvey was here.

Croc could sometimes be reasoned with, he’d gotten away from the Gotham nightlife more than once, but he kept being pulled back in.

Tonight did not seem to be one of his good nights.

Brucie fixed his best smile in place as the scaled man bellowed at him.

“We’re gonna find yer pal Dent, Brucie! Just give him up!”

Luckily, he’d put a lot of work into making Brucie as vapid as possible.

“Gee, it’s a surprise to see you here today, Mister Croc. I heard you had moved to Coney Island to do shows, I was really looking forward to bringing my kids down to see you,” he said cheerfully, like they were catching up in a cafe.

Croc was not amused. Yellow eyes narrowed.

“An’ now I’m here, and the only person I wanna see is that half barbecued mess you call a friend,” he growled, grabbing the front of Brucie’s shirt and shaking him roughly.

Bruce let himself flop, eyes going wide and terrified.

With any luck, Kane would be busy on the other side of town. He’d rather be able to check in with her later about the whole Danny scenario, her opinion unbiased.

“I’m sorry sir but I don’t think I can help you,” he gasped, hands coming up to clutch Croc’s, “Harvey isn’t here.”

That made the man stop, those slit pupils dilating as he squinted down into Brucie’s face. He did his very best wide eyed, empty headed socialite back.

He seemed to be coming to a conclusion as one of the Riddler’s men stepped up, holding up a tablet. On screen, there was the Riddler, idly spinning his cane.

“How goes the man hunt, Croccy?” He asked over the speakers, barely glancing at the man in his grasp.

Killer Croc examined Brucie for a moment longer, then snorted and dropped him. Brucie dropped to the floor, gasping for air and keeping at an angle where he could see the screen.

Had Riddler’s new bombs been intended for the gala all along? Or was this retaliation for the warehouse raid?

“He ain’t here yet,” Croc grumbled, and Bruce noted that for later.

Had Harvey been planning to attack the gala? As always with Two Face, it’d be a coin toss. The bats hadn’t heard that he was planning anything, but that didn’t always mean he wasn’t.

Riddler tutted softly, still spinning his cane.

“Well, we have time to wait. Are all the guests ready?”

His goon turned obediently, panning the tablet’s camera around the room. Brucie let himself drop slightly further back to keep the screen in sight, laying on the floor.

“Excellent.” Riddler sounded satisfied, which probably wasn’t good. “Croc!”

The goon turned again, bringing the camera back to face Killer Croc. Bruce was familiar enough with his face to see the reluctant tick of a smirk at the corners of his mouth.

It wasn’t exactly a dignified job, being the tablet bearer. Still, it did put this man lower on the priority list for his children to take out, so it had advantages.

“Yeah, yeah,” Killer Croc grumbled, also turning back to the room at large, and Bruce tensed. He was losing their interest.

“If Harvey-” he was cut off by a casual kick from Killer Croc, not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that he had no choice but to crumple around it.

Batman could tank a hit. Brucie couldn’t be allowed to look even half as capable.

And then his heart froze in his chest as Croc bellowed to the rest of the room.

“Where’s the man of the hour?”

In the shadows of the ceiling, Nightwing, Spoiler, and Red Robin froze as one. Black Bat and Robin were mapping the perimeter, checking the number of goons and any extra defences before Signal arrived.

Sharing a quick set of worried glances, Nightwing swung lightly across the hall to get a better look at the tablet. Tapped at his comm.

“Odds they want anything good with Jason?” He asked in a whisper, grimacing when Spoiler and Red Robin shook their heads as one.

Yeah. He figured.

“Odds we can move in now and get it over with?” Not that he expected them to be high.

Spoiler held out a hand palm down and wiggled it from side to side. Before any of them could speak, Robin commed in.

“Negative. There’s another dozen of Riddler’s men out here, setting up some sort of machine. It seems you caught the very tail end of his efforts,” he added with a disdainful scoff.

A grin tugged at Nightwing’s lips as Red Robin visibly twitched.

“That or he’s retaliating for his latest plan being foiled,” he offered cheerfully.

He didn’t particularly have any investment in them not having taken Riddler out of the picture; the man himself wasn’t in Arkham, so he’d assumed he’d be back.

Maybe not this soon, but Nigma could be volatile if his careful preparations were disturbed. And since he also wasn’t here…

“Something’s wrong either way, Riddler loves being on scene far too much to stay in the shadows,” Red Robin hissed, eyes still darting around. “He’d want to send a taunt to the Bats.”

“He’s gonna be real disappointed that we’re all here already if he’s posted up somewhere else,” Spoiler pointed out with a slight smirk, glancing around the hall. “Should we ask Signal to hold back?”

“Hey, you got me out of bed for the Danger Twink,” Signal cut in, just a hint of a grunt indicating he was already on his way.

“Batwoman and Bluebird can hunt him down if the taunt comes,” Red Robin cut them both off, brows furrowed in that all too familiar calculating frown.

Which, yeah. It’d be bugging him way more than Nightwing that something was off with the rogues’ behaviour. Red Robin liked knowing everything about everyone, all the time.

Nightwing didn’t mind switching it up, though every bat knew how to roll with the punches.

The lack of a puzzle was odd though. Riddler usually didn’t move in public until he had at least something ready to share.

Reaching up, he tapped his comms.

“Hey Robin, any chance you can get a closer look at what they’re setting up? See what we’re gonna be dealing with before Puzzle Quest starts?”

Robin just sounded impatient, flicking his own comms loud enough they all heard the impact.

“That is what I am doing. Thus far it seems rather basic. No recording or transmitting equipment.”

Which meant that either Riddler was set up to broadcast somewhere else, or this really wasn’t his operation. But what would Riddler have to gain from working with Killer Croc?

Or were they both just looking for Two face?

Too many questions, and they weren’t likely to get the answers without at least two of the rogues in question. Hopefully someone else would get their hands on Riddler, if he wasn’t coming personally.

Maybe it wasn’t great that more than half the family were on site. Fucking typical that this would be the first rogue attack ever without the rogues physically present.

Red Robin’s head rose, and Nightwing settled into position to wait. Time for the plan.

“Black Bat, finish your sweep and let us know if there’s anything else being set up on site, Spoiler go to join her. Signal, sweep the outer perimeter when you arrive, be on the watch for Riddler himself or more goons.”

Spoiler nodded, making her way from the hall through the chandelier maintenance hatch. Red Robin looked across at Nightwing, and he gave him a thumbs up.

“I’ll get a little closer and see if I can’t get an eye on that screen while you hack the feed?” He asked, and grinned when Red Robin shot him a grateful smile.

It was hard for any of them to keep up when Tim fell into his full planning mode, whether they were masked or not. Any time he didn’t have to spell things out he was happy.

Nightwing never held it against him. The kid could leave Batman spinning his wheels and he’d been frustrated often enough when he had to explain his plans to the Teen Titans.

Knowing that everyone in the room was smart and capable did not help when you were talking at cross purposes.

Tonight, he attached a line to one of the ornate pillars along the walls and lowered himself down into the shadows of one of the draped blue hangings.

If nothing else, it gave him a good view as Jason was pulled from his little group.

Little Wing looked… well, not that they’d expected him to look terrified or even particularly concerned, but he looked seriously amused by the situation.

This should be good.

It wasn’t that Jason had been expecting to be singled out. As far as most of the rogues knew, the Waynes were just another one of the richest families in town.

Good to shake down for cash, but not usually of any special interest. He was pretty sure most of the rogues couldn’t even name half the adopted kids.

So being called out by Killer Croc? Not expected. That it had happened literally right after he and Danny had been discussing plans to start shit?

Incredible. 10/10, Croc was moving up on his favourite villain list. He’d always been high, but this might do it.

It helped that the rush of Danny’s Presence had been more manageable this time. Whether it was having been warned or just experiencing it before, he hadn’t been swept off his feet.

It was still a lot, as if Danny had laid himself along Jason’s back and then pulled his way straight into his body. But he could breathe. Could think, could focus, and then it was gone again.

And being summoned by Killer Croc pretty much right away.

Maybe the adrenaline helped. Who fucking knew.

He raised a hand as the goons all turned to their groups, squinting suspiciously at the socialites.

“That’d be me?” He offered dryly, already rising as their riddler minion made as if to push through their group.

Sam grabbed Danny’s arm as Jason moved away, and onlookers might have confused it as her wanting comfort, or stopping Danny from following.

This close, Jason knew it was a warning for Danny not to actually laugh. The timing was just… the actual fucking best.

Killer Croc actually moved down towards him too, rather than having Jason brought up to the stage. Even better. Jason didn’t exactly square up, but he didn’t back down.

Croc seemed to approve, giving Jason an entirely unsubtle once over as he stopped just in front of him.

Better play carefully though. He’d worked with Croc as the Red Hood, and he already knew Roy’s real identity.

Croc had been running with Harley lately (and Jason kinda loved that partnership made in Hell) but he wasn’t officially on the list of Rogues Who Knew.

Luckily the plan wasn’t for Jason to take a swing at him.

“So yer back from the dead,” Croc growled, something in his eye making Jason wonder if they might not have to update that list after all. “Coulda sworn you were a scrawny little shit.”

Jason shrugged. It wasn’t really something he could deny; he’d grown almost a foot and a half. Being dead: weirdly good for growth spurts.

“I got better.”

What it was to Croc though… unless he did know who Jason really was. But then he’d have known Jason had been back for a while.

Croc rumbled something under his breath, and Jason made a note to run him down later as Red Hood. He’d been settled in Coney Island, finally out of the game.

Jason wasn’t gonna put him in Arkham if there was a chance they could fix whatever had dragged him back to town. And they could catch up. See what he actually knew.

Eyes narrowing just a little, Croc caught a scaly thumb under Jason’s jaw and tipped his face back and forth.

“So what the hell’ve you done to piss of Two Face, kid?” He asked in a lower growl, not quite quiet enough for privacy but not yelling to the whole hall.

Jason’s brows furrowed.

So they weren’t after Dent as a guest. He’d been planning an attack on the gala. Whether he’d still go through with it now though…

And the good news was, best case scenario here was to tell the truth. At least some of it.

“No idea. I’ve only been back in the land of the living for a couple weeks.” And he hadn’t run across Two Face recently in any costume.

Croc chuckled softly, which Jason was going to weigh in the “might know” column, but was interrupted by Riddler shouting across the hall.

“Just bring the boy here, Croccy, we need to set the stage before our fickle friend shows up!” He sounded impatient, and Jason watched annoyance flick across Croc’s eyes.

But the big man just shrugged, curling an arm around Jason’s bicep and tugging him towards the stage.

Yeah, Jason could feel just how much Danny didn’t like that development. There was a new undercut of tension alongside the amused-excited-anticipation.

And it was as good a time as any to start the show.

“What do you guys want with Two Face?” He asked as Croc dragged him, moving with him but not quite keeping up.

Flicking wait-soon-just one second as much as he could towards Danny.

Croc glanced back and gave him a harsher yank to keep up, attention now fixed on the stage. Where a couple more of Riddler’s goons had appeared, holding what looked fascinatingly like a bomb vest.

Joy. Not just Croc’s idea then.

“You’ll see just as soon as he shows up,” the big guy growled, and Jason sighed. So much for the easy way.

Ready-ready-ready

DUCK

“Catching” one toe on the heel of his other shoe, Jason stumbled and fell to the floor. As expected Croc twisted to glare down at him, grip still tight on his arm. Even bent over just a little, like he’d seen the script.

Perfect.

Which meant he didn’t see Danny vaulting up from his spot on the floor and wasn’t even a little prepared for an entire scrawny but muscular young man to land squarely straddling his shoulders, his added weight and momentum pitching Croc forwards and down to the ground.

Danny rode him down like a rodeo champ, leaning back and grinning at Jason as a hail of batarangs came from the ceiling.

“Come here often?” He asked cheerfully as Croc roared, clawed hands swiping up just after Danny rolled away down his back.

Jason snorted a laugh, pulling free as well and backing away.

Fucking danger twink. Yeah, he was kinda in love.

——————-

#danny fenton dead and loving it #dpxdc #dp x dc #dead on main ship #the inevitable rogue attack #danny fenton x jason todd #and here is where shit gets real #nobody correctly guessed who was coming #but i’m gonna keep making you wait 😈#also for sam’s pov we’ll get her at the real climax of the event

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mommytimmy · 6 months

Note

wait what about jason's breastmilk i certainly missed that

throwback to the time i said

im sorry i have no self control TToTT i see hot man I go woof woof woof barkbarkbarkbark awoooooo

#razielim #ask #a miracle i havent been blocked a hundred times at least

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lewis-winters · 6 months

Note

Going insane over your director’s commentary and the artworks listed (Ivan and his son is one of my favorite paintings ever) and also: Roe is catholic but he’s Cajun, which has its own brand of folk catholic, with many practices outside of the Roman Catholic tradition. He in canon mentioned his grandmother was a traiteur, which. Woof when you think about that in connection with a more Jesuit perspective on catholicism (which you said would be finding God in all things)…. That would track on well to Roe’s beliefs, who said that his grandmother has a more profound connection with God, made physical through her traiteur work. Also traiteur believe that their abilities are a direct gift from God, echoing Roe’s lines. Just. Ough. Also Cajuns (both traditionally and probably still do!) had a weekly boucherie, a communal slaughtering of an animal to share between everyone…. You can understand the symbolism. (A more lighthearted aside, now I’m thinking of Roe riding capitaine or co-capitaine in a Courir de Mardi Gras, and how happy he would have been to restart the tradition after it being on pause during the war… and how sad it would be to know so many of the young men he chased chickens with in his teen years would never be there again) Also this importance of Roe being Cajun Catholic really rears up in my mind when he wraps a tourniquet string around his finger and utters his prayer, repeating lines he finds important (‘With all my heart’) which is a deeply Cajun way of prayer (also, rosaries we’re often placed around the neck of sick children to heal/protect them, something Roe would no doubt be familiar with, what with his family history). ANYWAYSSSSSS Sorry, special interest in Cajun culture rose up and I had to infodump

NO BUT SEE EXACTLY. EXACTLY WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT LIKE!!!! YES!!!!!!!

Not necessarily about the weekly boucherie + the rosary around the neck thing (in the Philippines, we have something similar except in the form of a talisman called the anting-anting. I talked about it a little bit in my answer to you about the Black Nazarene on my main blog some time ago!! but yeah, same same principle, different execution!), but about how different Eugene would see these events and how he'd then react to/accept it. Folk Catholicism is always more open to mysticism than Regular Catholicism is, and the best part is you don't need the Canonization from the Vatican to just say. Hey! This is a sign from God! This comes from God! because Folk Catholicism allows a closer proximity to God than usual. Almost like it eliminates the middle man. So when Eugene experiences these things (again, phantasmagorical: did he actually experience the world pausing for one damn second for them to actually find Julian's body, or was this a case of shared delusion?) that would take several Vatican Councils to canonize as a Honest to God Miracle, he doesn't think: oh, this is wrong. He thinks. No. This is exactly how It Is Supposed To Be.

But he NEEDS to convince Babe of that. Babe, who does not see his Faith the way Eugene does, but who (Eugene thinks) desperately needs to, otherwise his guilt and self-disgust will swallow him whole. So he thinks; who else will convince him? Oh. Father Maloney.

Tangent but: another thing I forgot to put in but... in episode 6, after the Homily Eugene rolls up to and just before the start of the Patrol that kills Julian... watch Babe closely. He hugs Father Maloney before he leaves. Eugene sees it. Which is also... what made me think. Hmm. There's a relationship there that Eugene could have...... thought to capitalize on.......

#ask #thanks for indulging me!!#eugene roe

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phantomrose96 · 2 years

Text

*me posting a story on Reddit* “I’m not sure if this story belongs on this sub, but I was telling my friend about what happened to me today and he said I should totally post it here so here goes!

I work for a big fast food chain (yes, you know it) and my manager (let’s call him “Mark”) is a real asshole. He has this policy that all employees must always leave the freezer open at all times (it’s cheaper than air conditioning he says) and when I try to point out this might be a health code violation, he tells me ‘Silence Username, no employee may speak to me.’ (He also steals all the employees’ tips.)

Well since no employee may speak to him, I conveniently ‘forgot’ to tell him the health inspector was coming today. When the health inspector showed up he said, ‘Why is the freezer open?’ And that’s when I said, ‘Well our manager says it’s policy to always keep it open.’ My manager showed up at that exact moment and he was livid. He was steamed. He was seething. He was sputtering. He was flubbing for words and his face was beet-red. His face was tomato-red. His face was red-red. He was absolutely roasting. He was so mad he was lost for words. His head turned into the whistle of a steamboat and ejected a long bout of steam and whistle noises. He was muttering ‘Oh dagnabit’ and ‘Oh why I oughta’ and ‘Oh that employee-o-mine’ while winding back his fist and rolling up his sleeve in a comical manner to indicate he wanted to punch me. But he knew he couldn’t do that with the health inspector present. (Health inspectors can arrest store managers and store managers only.)

At that moment the store owner showed up and said ‘What is going on?’ (She’s an older woman with voluptuous breasts.) That’s when my manager started sputtering and yowling and pointing at me, but the health inspector said, ‘No, this is all manager’s fault. It was Username who brought it to my attention that this manager keeps the freezer open at all times.’

The store owner was appalled and she fired my manager on spot! He started screeching and yelping and woofing and mooing (his face was beet-red) but security escorted him out of the store. Then the store manager turned to me and said ‘I’m so sorry for everything manager did. You handled that so well. Would you like to be the new manager Username?’ (Her breasts were very firm despite their size.)

I said ‘I’m flattered, but if this is how these stores are run I think I will simply get a job elsewhere.’ ‘I understand. But if you ever reconsider,’ the store owner said, and she gave me her cellphone number. ‘My husband is dead.’

So that’s my story Reddit. I didn’t think it was that special but my friend thought you’d like it. What do you think?”

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musclesaber · 5 months

Text

Happy Birthday!

Part 1: 06/20

[Story Gallery] [Next Part] [Latest Part]

Commission I did for an anonymous user on Twitter. Dean is running late getting home to see his husband for their birthday, but forgets he still has to get a dessert. He stops at the first shop he see's and finds something that might not only save his butt from his husband, but also his marriage.

I ran across the sidewalk with my briefcase in hand. “Dammit, I’m so late.” I looked down at my phone, almost midnight. “I’m the worst husband ever.” I stumbled across many puddles and fell down in front of a lit up store front. I wiped some water off of my face as I sat up and looked at the bright neon sign. “The Sizemologist’s Caldron? I’ve never seen this here before,” musing to myself as I stood up. I looked at my phone and saw a text message light up across the screen.

“Are you at least bringing 🎂?” shined a text from a user named ‘Big Daddy’.

“Cake? Cake! Shit, shit, shit! I forgot the cake!” I yelled as I wrapped my hands around my head. “Fuck, what am I gonna do?” I looked around and then back at my sizable butt in my work pants. “No, I did that last year. He deserves better for such a day.” I brought my phone down and looked into the windows of the dimly lit storefront. A light emitted from the very back of the store and I had to press my face up against the glass to see anything inside. My eyes scanned around the room until they focused in on a sign. ‘Eat Me & Drink Me’ read the sign and a smile grew across my face.

“Hello! Hello!” I knocked on the window and saw some shadows move in the background. “I’m sorry! I know it’s late! I was just wondering if I could bother you to buy some sort of dessert? A cake perhaps?” I saw the outline of a very large man coming towards me. His silhouette seemed to only grow bigger as he strode closer to me. Not only did he tower over me, he sported one of the biggest guts I’d ever seen. As a light flickered on, the man’s features were revealed. In an extremely tight blue t-shirt that had ‘The Sizemologist’s Emporium’ stretched across it. As he leaned his head down to reveal a small beard and a head full of bushy blonde hair, he opened the door.

“Sir, we’re open till Midnight, feel free to come in,” said the large man as he pulled the door open and stepped to the side.

“Oh, uh…thanks.” I walked in and continued brushing water off myself. “Sorry I didn’t think you were open. It’s just the lights were off and I didn’t see anyone inside.” I said as I entered the shop. The room looked so much more spacious than I expected on the outside. I had to sidestep the big belly bulging out in front of the big man as it threatened to push me over when the big man swung it around to head towards the back.

“Yeah, that’s my bad. The lights in here are on motion sensors at night. And normally I get up to turn them on, but I might’ve dozed off after I polished off a few pieces of sourdough bread. Woof, I really did some damage,” said the shopkeep as he patted his big belly. The ripples cascading over the blue fabric of the t-shirt.

“I see, well I saw the sign from outside “Eat Me & Drink Me” and I was hoping you’d have some sort of dessert. A cake preferably.” I said and started walking over to the section.

“That’s my newest section. Opened it up just a couple weeks ago. I’m Sam by the way. The Sizemologist. I run this shop,” said the shopkeep.

I turned my head to see the big man smiling down at me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dean,” I said and reached out to shake his hand.

“And about the cake, I actually just sold my last cake earlier today. It was to a lovely couple celebrating their anniversary. Awe, they’re gonna have a fun night,” mused the shopkeep as he waddled past me toward a bar built into the wall. “But I have plenty of other desserts and treats for you to select from.” He lifted up an opening in the bar and squeezed his love handles through the sides as best he could. He started putting out plenty of desserts and pastries as I took a seat in the stool in front of him. Cookies all labeled with ‘Eat Me’ on them, brownies that had colorful sprinkles on top, and many selections of bread were set in front of me. I could even smell some more treats cooking in the back. “Take your pick.”

“Wow, you’ve really got quite the selection here. It’s for my husband’s birthday. He loves cheesecake and I was really hoping to surprise him after I’ve been such a bad husband today.”

“Oh I bet you couldn’t be that bad of a husband. You are buying your husband a cake for his birthday. That’s something,” said Sam as his head disappeared under the bar where he started rummaging around below.

“Yeah, but this’ll be the one good thing I’ve done for him today. I was supposed to have today off, but I got called into the office for some emergency meeting that turned into a lot of work and I kept getting hit with project after project and I couldn’t get away from any of it until now. Almost midnight and I’ve barely spent any time with him today.” I wracked my head and shook some water from my fluffy brown hair.

“You’re certainly feeling guilty and stressed about it if you’re willing to reveal that to a random customer service worker you just met,” said Sam as he came from the bar with a glass and a clear liquid in a beer sized bottle.

“I’m sorry si-”

“Sam, just call me Sam.”

“I’m sorry Sam. I didn’t mean to put that all out on you. It’s just, my husband and I, we’ve been arguing a bit lately. And today just must feel like a punch in the gut to him.” I looked at Sam and he started putting ice in a shaker.

“It’s okay. I understand, and I’ve been there. Marital troubles can be tricky. What’s got you two arguing?” I saw Sam polishing off the glass and setting it down in front of me.

“You know, I really should get going. I’m already late enough as it is. I can’t have a drink right now. Maybe another time,” I said and started getting up from my seat.

“Just stay and talk a moment. I promise it’ll be quick.” Sam grabbed a bottle cap opener and popped the top off. The smell from the beer hit me immediately and I froze in place.

“Wow, that smells really good. Maybe I can stay for just one drink,” I sat back down in my chair and I heaved my briefcase onto the bar stool next to me. Sam had a satisfied smirk on his face as he poured the liquid into the shaker.

“I thought this would change your tune. So, tell me, what’s the matter?” asked Sam as he started to shake up the drink.

“It’s complicated. My husband has been a bit self conscious about his body as of late. He’s been trying to work out and grow his muscles out, but has been getting minimal results at best. He started off at maybe 120 pounds and 5 foot 7 and has only gained 10 pounds in almost a year,” I said as Sam poured the drink into the glass.

“Well you seem pretty fit, big guy.” said Sam nodding to my pecs that protruded from my white button down shirt. “Maybe you could give him some pointers in the gym?” He slid the drink over to me and popped open a bottle for himself and started drinking it straight from the bottle.

“That’s part of the problem. We started working out together. Before we got married, I was on the heavier side. And not in the muscly way I am now. I was fat. And just fat. No muscles. So we joined the gym together. He wanted to put on more size and I just wanted to reform my fat into muscle. I’ve succeeded so far, but he’s been not so successful.” I reached down to take a sip of my drink and my eyes nearly bulged out of my head. “Mmm this stuff is incredible! What is it?”

“Made with a special rubber plant from South America, I call it “Stretchy Cider”,” said Sam as he took a swig of his own drink. “As for your husband, you shouldn’t feel guilty just because you have been seeing improvements and he hasn’t. That isn’t fair to your goals’ importance.”

“I mean, sure. It’s just that I know we’ve both wanted this for a long time. We bonded a lot over fitness and wanting to grow bigger before we even committed to the gym. And we’re both sorta size queens so that plays a factor into this too. I know he wants to be a massive man with muscles all over his body and he knows I want that for him too. He just puts so much pressure on himself and I hate to see him do it. And I hate being one of the causes of it too,” I said as I took another sip of my drink. Sam gave me a morose look and put his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry Dean. That does not sound like a fun environment to be living in.” I hung my head and let out a long sigh.

“It is a bit of a toxic web we’ve sown as a foundation for our relationship. And that’s only half of it. He’s been really wanting to have kids lately. And I get it. He’s turning 40. He’s not getting any younger. But we can’t get our finances together to get a kid since it costs so much to have a single child as a gay couple. Let alone the cost to raise one. I bet with our salaries, we could have tons of kids. We’re just gay men so we can’t afford to have kids in the first place.”

“I see. Well Dean, it’s your lucky day. I think I have a great birthday gift from you to your husband. Be right back.” Sam did a quick about face, leaving his fat body wiggling for a second or two after, and walked through a door to what I assumed was the back. I looked down at my phone and it read 11:55p.m.

“Shit Connor is gonna kill me,” I said through gritted teeth as I brought the drink up to my lips and started chugging the whole thing.

“I’ve got just the thing for you. Here’s this muffin I have. It’s for a special promotion I’m doing this week. This is a muffin that helps people be the biggest person in any room,” said Sam as he placed a red velvet muffin down right in front of me with star shaped sprinkles on top.

“I don’t know, a muffin on his birthday? That doesn’t sound like the best thing to bring home to a probably very upset husband,” I said as I looked down at the muffin. Sam brought a sparkling, extravagant yellow birthday candle out and pushed it into the top.

“This’ll help set the mood. Trust me, he’ll love it.,” said Sam as he started getting a bag out for it.

“Alright, I guess I’ll take it. It’s not like I have many other options,” I said and reached for my wallet. “How much for the muffin and the drink?”

“Just $5 for the muffin and the drink is on the house. Just come and thank me after you have your kids.” Sam winked at me and slid the bag forward.

“Thank you Sam. You are too kind. I hope this works.” I pulled a $5 bill out of my wallet and grabbed the bag and my briefcase. “Sorry to keep this short, but I’ve gotta run. Thanks again!” I darted towards the door and Sam waved me off.

“Not a problem Dean! You two have fun tomorrow!” yelled Sam as I walked out the door. I tilted my head at the tomorrow part, but kept running towards home. I looked down at my phone, 11:55 still.

“Damn, he said it would be quick, but I wasn’t thinking that.” I kept running until I got to our apartment building. I bursted through the doors and hit the up button to the elevator repeatedly. With a ding, the doors looked like they were moving at a snail’s pace to open up. I tapped my foot and hurried in the elevator just to stand and press the close door button repeatedly in hopes it would go faster. I went up floor by floor over what took an eternity. “Come on. Come on.” With another ding, the elevator started to open up into our apartment on the top floor. I emerged from the elevator to see a short man with his hands crossed across his chest.

“Finally home from work. And it’s not midnight yet. Congrats babe. You didn’t miss all of my birthday,” said the man as he walked away from me into the kitchen.

“Connor, look I’m sorry. I didn’t think that this one meeting would take away our entire day!” I followed him into the kitchen until I stopped in my tracks as he swiveled on his feet to get up in my face despite his much shorter stature.

“Today was supposed to be our day. I wanted to spend a lovely birthday with my husband, but it was one thing after another, again. And I get pushed to the side for your career, again. Why would I think today would be any different than any other day,” said Connor as he stormed off through the house away from me.

“Please babe. I’m sorry. I just had to stay. I kept trying to get away, but they wouldn’t stop pulling me into meetings “I had to be in”.” I used my fingers to make air quotes around those words and followed him into our bedroom. “Connor, stop running from me. Can we just celebrate a little late? I did bring home a dessert for you.” I fumbled to set my briefcase down then tear open the bag Sam had given me. “I didn’t get anything for me, but I was thinking that could be part of my punishment.” Connor turned around and saw the birthday muffin I was holding.

“Is that a muffin? I think I’d prefer you just give me your ass instead.” I shrugged and then wrung my head.

“Connor, I’m so, so sorry. I’ve been the worst husband lately. And especially today of all days.” I walked past Connor and sat on the king sized bed in our bedroom. “I had forgotten to get you a cake and could only find this one little shop open and all they had left that you would have liked was this.” I sighed and set the muffin down on the bedside table. I could see in Connor’s face that his anger was slowly simmering down.

“You’re not the worst husband in the world,” he said as he sat down on the bed with me. “I just feel like our lives have been drifting in two different directions these past few months.” We both sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity.

“Yes, we are. But I don’t want us to be,” I reached for his hand and I could see tears welling up in his eyes.

“I don’t either. I just feel like sometimes I can’t even talk to you about it. Some days, despite living in the same apartment as you, I never see you. You’re always at the office, or at the gym, or when you’re home, you just go into your study and don’t come out all day playing your games.” Connor had a couple of tears running down his face as we continued to sit in silence.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in work. Ever since that promotion last year, I just can’t get away from the office sometimes.” I put my hand on Connor’s thigh and squeezed it.

“Why did you even take that promotion? You hated your job before you took it. And now it’s just gotten worse. And it’s not like we need the money. We live in a penthouse apartment in the city. While it is expensive, I make more than enough to cover it alone. That and just about all of our other living expenses. I just don’t understand why you do this job that I know you aren’t happy in.” Connor stopped his long winded question to me and I paused again.

“Because I thought you wanted kids, babe. I have been busting my ass so we could afford to have some kids,” I said and Connor gave me a weird look.

“Honey, we could have kids tomorrow if we want. At least start the process. Our savings account is filled with the child fund. You know this. You helped set it up with me. We even used the fund already and it’s grown the money back. This is something else.” I looked into Connor’s big brown eyes and my heart just melted.

“It’s because I’m afraid.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what honey.”

“Afraid that we had grown too far apart to come back together again. I didn’t want to come home and face the silence and coldness that I would’ve sat in with you.” I blurted out as I started to cry as well. It was Connor’s turn to think on my words. “I knew we had been growing apart and I didn’t want to face it. But now I see running from my problem only makes it even harder to deal with.”

“You took the job so you wouldn’t have to deal with me?” asked Connor.

“No. No! Not at all babe. It wasn’t to deal with you. I did it cause I thought that’s what I needed. To be thrown into my work. After trying and failing to have a child and going through the painstaking process of venting and paperwork of in vitro just to have no results was heartbreaking. I couldn’t handle it.” The tension in the room could be cut with a knife as I sobbed quietly into my hand.

“I understand that babe. After the surrogate failed to have any eggs that attached, I also was feeling broken. But I needed you. My husband. And you ran away to your terrible job.” Connor began to join me in crying.

“I’m so sorry Connor. I was being selfish with my reaction to the news. I was doing what I needed to do to protect my own feelings. And as your husband, I needed to be there for you too.”

“It’s okay. We each have our own coping mechanisms. I know that about us. This is just the first time it’s hit us so hard. I don’t think we could’ve prepared ourselves for this one,” said Connor as he put his hand on mine. “But I think we know what’s happening now. For the first time in over a year.” I cracked a smile amidst my tears and went in to hug Connor.

“We are. I don’t think we really talked about what we wanted to do going forward after failing to have a kid the first time. Do you think we could do it?”

“Dean, I have never had any doubt in my mind that when we become parents, we will raise beautiful children. However I do think that we need to have a lot more love in the home before we bring a child into it.” We looked into each other's eyes and hugged each other. We held each other and just breathed for a moment. We hadn’t had this much physical contact in months.

“Same to you Connor. You’re gonna make a wonderful dad.” I pushed his body away to kiss him and it was like fireworks went off. This was the first time I had felt something around him in months. “I do hope we’ve begun to rekindle that love today.”

“I think so. We’re definitely headed in the right direction.” Connor leaned back in and we shared a passionate kiss. I felt his hand pressing into my chest and he gripped my pecs. “And I don’t think we’ve done anything with your new body since we’ve started working out.”

“Yeah and we haven’t done anything with yours either big daddy,” I smiled and kissed Connor back only to feel him lose steam part of the way through.

“Uh huh, like I have any progress to show,” said Connor as he kept massaging my pecs over my shirt.

“But you have babe. You’ve slimmed up since working out and now you’re starting to put on more muscle,” I went to grab at his chest but he flinched when I did. “Babe, I just spilled my guts about my tough feelings. Maybe tonight we just get all of our feelings out in the open.”

“What feelings? I’m fine, babe. We were just about to have sex for the first time in forever. I’m great!” Connor started to kiss me violently and pounced onto me. Forcing me to lean back on our bed with him on top.

“Hun, you’re talking to the king of not talking about things that bother me.” He broke the kiss and rolled off me. “Spill it babe.” Connor looked at me as we both lay on the bed together.

“I can’t get big. I can’t be the big man of my dreams and I definitely can’t be the big man of your dreams.”

“Okay, what do you mean by that?”

“The gym isn’t working to get me bigger.”

“And I don’t have a problem with that. Everyone’s bodies are different and gain size in different ways.”

“Oh Dean, stop beating around the bush. The entirety of our relationship was based off of our shared love for growth. You remember all of the role playing we did back in the day. Do you remember that one where you were the sweet scientist and me, your science experiment that got huge. I wanted that for you.” Connor sat up and put his elbows on his knees and head on his hands. I followed suit soon after.

“Connor, those were fantasies. And while they were hot at the time of doing them, I don’t really care about them now. And I definitely never expected you to get THAT big. Babe at one point we said you were over 100 feet tall and many tons of muscle. No one has even come close to that big before.”

“I know, but maybe if I thought that maybe if I did get bigger, it would help us rekindle that spark.” I brought my arm around him and pulled him in close to me.

“Well after tonight I hope you can put that idea out of your head since we might not be past our differences, but we are on the road to recovery.” I leaned in and kissed the short man. We sat on the bed in silence for a long time. Just me holding Connor in my arms. “I did however mention to the guy that sold me the muffin that you were having some issues in the gym and he assured me that the muffin makes men feel like they’re the biggest one in the room.”

“What does that even mean? And you were talking to a random baker about that?”

“I don’t know. I assumed it had a bunch of calories in it or something. But yeah. I did kinda vent to him for a sec cause I felt so guilty about how bad of a husband I was being.” I stand up and open up a drawer in the night stand to reveal a lighter.

“At this point I’ll try anything to make me grow,” said Connor as he got up and stood beside me. “But that cupcake is so small, what are you going to eat?”

“Think of it as a punishment to myself for being so late and forgetting to pick up a cake today.” I started to light the candle that was on top of the muffin and presented it to Connor. “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Connor, Happy Birthday to You.” Connor gave me a cheesy smile and blew out the candle.

“Thanks babe. Despite all of the drama I couldn’t have wished for a better 40th birthday,” said Connor as he started eating the muffin.

“Feliz cumpleaños mi amor. Did you make a wish?”

“Of course. I always make a wish. You can’t not make a wish. But I’m not gonna tell you.” Connor continued to eat his muffin and was delighted by how good it tasted.

“You don’t need to tell me until it comes true.”

“Well then I can tell you what I wished for last year?”

“What?”

“You.” I smiled at Connor and leaned down to give him a big kiss.

“I’m glad I granted your wish then. I just hope I can grant this one for you too.” We kissed a couple more times before we sat down on the bed. We began to make out, small moans escaping our lips as we did.

“You definitely can babe. But actually,” Connor paused our kiss and let out a long yawn, “I’m feeling really tired all of a sudden. Think maybe we can pick this up in the morning?” Connor began to lie back in bed onto his pillow and tapped the one beside it.

“Sure babe. Screw work if they call me in. I’m gonna spend tomorrow with my husband.” I climbed over to my side of the bed and got under the covers with Connor.

“Thank you Dean. I would love that as a birthday present. As well as snuggling with you tonight,” said Connor as he wrapped his arms around my body as I faced the opposite way. “Goodnight Dean.”

“Goodnight Connor.”

#plot #gay #growth #size difference

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