❝baby mine, don't you cry❞ — Richard “Dick” Grayson
jason's version
The arrival of your first child and the chaotic energy he brings into your life (which is saying a lot, why chaos is a part of you). So imagine the gray hair you obtained thanks to your First Joy.
NOTE:
People forget that as Dick was a troublesome little sh*t and he still is. We love him but he is the chaotic son and @igotmessymind agrees with me!!!
This story is part or the BATMOM SCARLET WITCH UNIVERSE that i have create. I hope you enjoy!!!
𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.
WARNINGS: Dick's parents die; a boy who is very angry with the world; a very stressed new mother (you); Bruce is there, but that's not what this story is about, but he is a good father in this world.
Technically, the first time you met Dick was directly after his parents died, but he wouldn't remember that until he was an adult. And you never counted that as your first interaction with your boy because of the tragedy of the whole scenario.
You and Bruce had gone to the circus that day in the subtlest way a Wayne could go anywhere. It was a date night, one that both of you had recently defined as mandatory every week. First so that Bruce could have a break, and second because that way you guys started spending time together somewhere other than the batcave. Something that, according to Alfred, you both desperately needed as a couple.
You two were in the front row when Mary and John Grayson plummeted to their deaths in the middle of their circus act, leaving a horrified ten-year-old Dick. The boy's scream was something that, even years later, if you closed your eyes, you could still hear with terrifying clarity. Once the tent was evacuated and the crime scene isolated by the GCPD, the newly promoted Captain Jim Gordon arrived and, before you left, he very subtly approached you and your husband. He asked you if you could do something for the child. The forensics team will arrive at any moment now, and they will have to uncover the bodies. Nobody couldn't get Dick to move or to react in any way, and Jim wanted to spare the boy seeing his parents like this more than he already had.
Jim had been aware of your and your husband's identities for a while, so the request didn't surprise you. To the contrary, you quickly agreed. He took you back to the tent. Dick had been lowered from the platform, but he remained curled up in a ball on the floor, next to where the bodies of his parents were covered in white sheets, which were turning redder from day to day. Little with each passing moment. You approached him, with the most delicate step possible, and placed a hand on his hundred, entering his mind gently and gently guiding his consciousness out of the shock of the situation. It was superficial magic that didn't get you into the boy's mind very much, just enough to help him and not force him. In a few seconds the boy's head snapped up, and you let Jim quickly take control of the situation, allowing one of his detectives to guide you back out of the closed area, then back to your husband.
You had to help your husband out of his own shock that same night, forcing him to stay home and not go out as Batman, without accepting any complaints. Alfred helped, agreeing with the idea immediately. The death of the Grayson's in front of his own son was something that came very close to Bruce's heart, too many buried memories that arose uncontrollably.
The first official meeting that both of you remember is almost two weeks later. After you and Bruce had decided to take care of little Dick into your own hands. All because you find out how the boy kept sneaking out of the houses where the state put him at least once a day since that fateful night.
“Dick, this is my beautiful wife, y/n Wayne” Bruce introduced them both that day when the boy arrived with his suitcase and his eyes wide open, surprised by all the luxury that Wayne Manor represents. Smile at yourself and look briefly at your husband in reproach for his choice of words. He just shrugged, not at all sorry for his words. It's the truth. You ARE beautiful, and you are MY wife, he thought in his defence, knowing you would listen. You rolled your eyes and returned your attention to the child between the two of you.
“It's a pleasure, Mr. Wayne” The boy said suspiciously, but politely, not believing how good the situation looked for him and not trusting you or your husband at all.
“It's nice to meet you too, Dick” you told him, smiling sweetly “No need to be so formal, just call me y/n, it's fine”
Dick's mind couldn't stop thinking about how pretty you were. The way you were sweet in that first meeting was bittersweet for him, because he reminded him of his own mother, of that affection that she used to give him and that he would never receive from her anymore.
“Lunch is almost done” you tell him as you lean a little more towards Bruce for support, “Are you hungry?. Alfred prepared a buffet just to welcome you” you explained trying to push those thoughts away for now, you desperately wanted him to feel good and comfortable there.
“Alfred?” the boy asked, confused.
“Our butler” Bruce explained
“He's more like family than anything” you clarified, “Like a grumpy grandpa who won't let you touch the stove without breathing over your shoulder” you teased a bit.
“Did he say my name, Mistress y/n?” said the aforementioned, coming from the kitchen and looking at you accusingly.
“No, not at all” you denied it and Dick couldn't help but smile a little at the mischief, to which you winked at him and offered your hand.
“Come on, let me show you the dining room” you invited him and the boy left your hand dangling for a moment, thinking about his next move. But, since you didn't stop smiling or offering him your hand, Dick decided to take it last, mainly because he was hungry.
Dick let you guide him, serve him food. He talked to you a bit during the meal until Bruce had to go to Wayne Enterprises for a meeting, then you showed him the mansion and his room. You promised him that you would go shopping this week to decorate it to his liking so that he would feel more comfortable.
During that week was the honeymoon phase.
The social worker you and Bruce had meetings with before Dick arrived explained about the phase. It's when everything seems perfect and the child shares his best manners. Either out of fear of how you would react. Or hoping to see how long your stay in the house would last, if it's worth getting used to or not. But the act would end sooner or later.
And it was exactly one week later (a Tuesday to be exact), the day after Dick started attending his new school, that the boy act ended and the adjustment phase officially began.
“This stage is the most difficult, so I need you to be prepared for it, especially in a case like Richard's” the social worker explained to both of you with seriousness. You had taken every word she gave you with like it was the bible, but at the end you still weren't ready when it started and everything that happened hit you like a truck.
You were in your studio in downtown Gotham, having a meeting with the designers who work with you and discussing that winter's new clothing collection for the brand. When Nina, your personal assistant, enters the office after timidly knocking on the door with a worried face.
“Mrs. Wayne” she called out to you, to which you look at her, smiling kindly upon seeing her “I know that you asked me not to bother you unless it was an emergency” she said, remembering what you had told her, you frowned immediately worried, because Nina was extremely effective and if she was there it was because it was genuinely an emergency “Gotham Academy is on call, it's about your son” she told you, and you immediately called off the meeting before leaving on the phone.
It turned out that not only had the school called, but GCPD had called Bruce around the same time. Dick, your only ten-year-old boy, had run away from school and ended up being found in Crime Alley by an officer who recognised him from the news. The officer in turn informed Jim Gordon, knowing the proximity to the Wayne's, and he gave the order to bring the boy to his office in the centre of the city, to then call your husband. You never knew what god to thank for Dick that would have been found by one of the few good cops in Gotham, but you did anyway.
“What is he thinking?” you asked worriedly while talking on the phone with Bruce, already on your way to the police station, with Alfred driving, “Anything could have happened to him. If he didn't want to go to school he could have said, he insisted on starting this week, I don't understand!-” you stopped, passing your hand over your eyes and sighing heavily.
“That was probably the point, love” Bruce said softly. “He wanted you to leave him at school and not think about the matter anymore. It is likely that his plan would have always been to escape, surely he would have done the same yesterday if he had not been assigned a partner for his first day” he explained to you, his voice accompanied by the movement of papers on the desk in his own office.
The day before, which had been Dick's first day of school since the death of his parents, the school had assigned one of its older students to guide him on that day, so he had been watched all day. But that day had been different, and your son had gotten up in the bathroom in the middle of the first class, and had not returned to the classroom. So the school had called you when they realised the boy was missing. And Jim had called Bruce shortly after when the patrolman found him. And Dick had taken a cab to Crime Alley, of all the places.
“He's safe, you need to calm down, love” Bruce continued, getting up from his desk, to walk up to the large windows in his office and look out over the city, as if he could see you from the top of Wayne Tower “We'll talk to him when he gets home, before dinner, but upsetting you like that won't help” he advised you, even though he was just as worried about what had happened.
“Alright, alright” you whispered while taking a deep breath.
At the door of the police station you were met by a uniform who was waiting for Jim's orders, who took you to the captain's office where, sitting with his head down and his arms crossed tightly across his chest, you found Dick.
“Richard Grayson” you started in a stern tone, walking towards him and crouching down in front of him, to check that he wasn't hurt. “¿What were you thinking?¿Why do you think of getting in Crime Alley alone?” you asked calmly but firmly, looking at me as the boy avoided returning the gesture “Dick, look at me” you insisted, looking for his gaze, but the boy continued to refuse, almost tempted to close his eyes to make his denial clear.
“Mrs. Wayne” Captain Gordon called to you from his desk, where he had been watching the interaction, and you quickly stood up to greet him.
“Jim, you don't know how much I appreciate you for this. I almost had a heart attack when the school called me to say that Dick was missing” you told him as you shook his hand.
“Don't worry, your boy was just taking a walk, a bit of a dangerous adventure, but he came out without a scratch” he reassured you while looking at the crestfallen boy sitting next to you, and he did not miss the way your hand trembled slightly “Gomez” the officer who had brought you to the door looked at his boss ready to receive his order “Why don't you take little Dick to get something to eat from the vending machine down the hall?” and his question didn't need an answer. Dick left with Officer Gomez without saying a word, as you watched his back walk away through the glass in the office door.
“Y/n, please, sit down” Jim asked as he approached one of the chairs on the guest side of his desk, sitting down across from you immediately after you did.
“I'm sorry, I just-” You tried to apologise for how upset you were, but the man stopped you with an understanding smile.
“Don't worry, y/n. I was close to an aneurysm the first time my Barbs ran away from school” he told you trying to calm you down, to which you giggled at the thought of the adorable red-haired little girl who was the only daughter of the Gordon family.
“They start younger and younger” you plead, with a mixture of amusement and concern looking at the older man.
“Well this is Gotham, our kids have to grow up faster than others” he explained to you, while he served a glass of water from the jug that he had on his desk “Your butler had the same reaction when I found your husband walking in the same place years ago, shortly after the death of Thomas and Martha” he remembered, offering you the glass, which you accepted with anguish.
“God, he already acts like Bruce, and he hasn't even been with us for two weeks” you lamented, to which Jim couldn't help but chuckle a bit at your concern.
“Welcome to parenthood, your heart gets used to it sooner or later” he comforted you, running his hand down your back reassuringly.
Things got worse before they got better. Dick started running away not only from school, but from home, and he started yelling at you at unexpected times. There was no way for you to figure out what was making him mad because it was different what you did or didn't do every time he started his tantrum.
That was the case for more than two months after the first incident. Alfred told you that Bruce had been the same for a full year after his parents died. Bruce told you it wasn't your fault, despite what the kid was yelling at YOU all the time. But you could do more than feel guilty. You didn't want to fix things with your magic. When you retired you decided that your life could not be what you did with your power, it was more than just your power, and it was time to start accepting it, enjoying it. But you don't know how to help him without that power, either, at least not in a very deep way. So you did the only thing you could think of, you kept offering your hand to little Dickie, even though half the time he seemed to want to bite his hand.
It all came to a head one afternoon after you brought a very angry Dick to Wayne Manor from school. Gotham Academy had called you to talk after he tried to escape again. They informed you that maybe it was time for you and Bruce to look for another school for the boy, since his behaviour was not appropriate for the establishment.
“Dick, we need to talk” you called out to the boy, seeing him run towards the stairs as soon as you closed the front door. Alfred was shopping for dinner and Bruce was at League HQ, so you were the only one to argue with the kid that day “Dick Grayson, come back here, we're going to have a talk about this sooner or later” you said, going after the boy with a calm step, but Dick heard you coming and ran to his room at the moment he made the second floor of the house, slamming the door shut before you managed to finish climbing the stairs.
You sighed heavily as you stopped at the sound of the door slamming. You wanted desperately to go into the room and demand that the boy tell you what was bothering him so much, you wanted desperately to fix whatever was bothering him so much. But you knew you couldn't really fix the source of his problems, even if you had the magical potential to do so. You learned long ago that death is something even you must let take its course, for the sake of the very existence of the whole. You also didn't want to enter the boy's mind with magic, it wouldn't be fair to him to do that, so your options were limited at the end of the day. So you stood there, helpless.
You were having a hard time, not because you didn't want the task of taking care of Dick, but because it was a mixture of situations that seemed unfair to you. First the poor boy lost his parents together in front of his eyes, and he did so after the death of the Scarlet Witch, after you decided it was better to start a life without the chaos magic that characterised you. If the boy had crossed your path a couple of years earlier, neither Mary nor John had fallen to their deaths that day, you would have stopped it right there in that tent of the circus without much thought. But it hadn't been.
Although, you didn't need to read his mind to know one thing: Dick hated you. Totally and intensely. He had made it clear to you on more than one occasion.
And yes, he did. Dick hated everything about you. He hated the way you made his room look like the ideal in his mind of what he wanted. How you personally prepared his lunches for school. How you wore it and personally attracted you everywhere. How you smile with affection, how you patiently accept every insult and scream. I also hated how you tried so hard that he wouldn't notice that Bruce wasn't there much. Or how you always found him when he got lost in the halls. Also, when you brought him cookies and hot chocolate when he couldn't sleep, even though sugar didn't really help him sleep at all. He only made him happy for a while.
Why couldn't you be like the wicked stepmothers of the stories?
It would be easier for him.
He hated the way you loved him, because it made him want his mom back, and it made him remember that she was gone, it made him want to accept you and Bruce as his family too. But he didn't need a new family. He necessitated his family, his parents, and his circus friends. He wanted his life back.
He hated you. He hated you. He hated you.
Dick curled up on the bed, with the blankets you personally picked out with him, which were Superman, and hid his head on the pillow. There he remained. At eleven years old, Dick had never been the type to be capricious or suspicious. His parents had always taken pride in saying that his son was very well-behaved and fit in wherever they went with the show. But now he just wanted to hate and never stop doing it, he didn't want anything else because the world was cruel, and it didn't deserve more than his hate. You didn't deserve more than that for being so good that it made him want to feel like before, and it pulled his mind to a better place every time you caressed his hair lovingly and made him feel at home.
That night, after eating the sandwich that Alfred had kindly given him when he refused to come down for dinner, he went to sleep without expecting you to come and say good night, as you had done since he arrived at the mansion. Usually, he didn't go to sleep easily, but his desire to avoid you overcame the fear of his nightmares, so he quickly fell asleep.
You arrived after he began to snore softly, already sunk in sleep. You entered, opening the door as quietly as possible, to see him spread out on his bed, with his pyjamas on, and the sheets almost falling off the bed due to his movements. Likewise, you couldn't help but feel the tenderness warm your heart, thinking to yourself that this should be a good step on the right path, because the boy hadn't slept well since he arrived at the mansion and since before, according to the reports of the social worker. So that he was sleeping at that time was good. You took victory silently and closed the door to the room, using the surface of your powers to close the curtains that let the moonlight into the room before walking away.
You went down to the cave after that, where Bruce was getting ready to go out for the night.
“How is he?” he asked while putting on his gloves, as soon as he heard you walking out of the elevator.
“He's asleep” you told him with a big smile, happy for the small victory.
“Really?” Bruce asked, pleasantly surprised.
“Yes” you answer, reaching her side, unable to contain the smile of happiness, for that reason “I know it's not much considering what happened today-” you started, but your husband stopped you by placing his hands on your cheeks affectionately.
“It's a good thing” he assured you, smiling at you, and you kissed his lips lightly “We still need to talk to him tomorrow though” Bruce said, gently breaking your bubble, to which you sighed.
“If it makes you feel any better, Mistress y/n” Alfred began from the chair in front of the batcomputer “I could make you a list of the number of private schools Master Bruce was expelled from before he finally calmed down” he offered to what Bruce rolled his eyes in amusement “It's including Gotham Academy, of course” he clarified with amusement.
The night passed as normally as it could. But around one in the morning you went upstairs to check on Dick, as you always did at night when you stayed in the cave. It was the third time you'd checked, and he'd been fine the first two times, having started snoring louder on each visit.
So you expected to hear the boy snoring when you reached the hallway of his room, instead, you were met with crying. You stopped in place for a moment, because it was the first time you had heard Dick cry since he had arrived at the mansion.
“Mama” the boy cried, half awake and half asleep, “Mama” kept calling between sobs that shook her little body violently.
The most instinctive part of you walked quickly towards the door with a soft step, but the same logic made you stop at the door before even touching the handle, apart from that he told you that the boy was calling for his mom, for Mary. Not for you, he didn't want you. And for a moment you decided that you would not go in, and we let him cry all he needed, and tomorrow you would try to get him to talk about it. It might be a good time to suggest therapy. Yes, that was the best option and the best way to handle the situation.
“Mom, mom” you heard. Now fully awake, Dick continued to sob with his broken heart, and he broke yours with the sound of his cracking voice. So the institute won.
You walked into the room ready to be yelled at almost immediately. But you did it anyway, sure-footed and ready to do whatever it took to make your precious boy stop suffering once and for all. You knew that that would never leave him, but you would still try.
“Dickie, baby” you said as you approached the bed, to sit on the edge of the mattress next to him, running a hand over his back as he continued to cry and sobbed loudly “My joy, it's okay, you're-” and then the force of the child colliding with your chest stopped you.
In the time Dick had been there, he had never allowed you or Bruce or Alfred to get any closer than to hold his hand or stroke his hair. So when the boy threw himself at you crying and hugging your waist as if his life depended on it, he surprised you. He was hugging you as if he was afraid that you would disappear from one second to the next (theoretically you could do that, it was part of your powers, but that wasn't what the boy was afraid of). He sobbed into your chest as his knuckles turned white from clinging to you.
“It's okay, my joy” you comforted him, hugging him back and kissing his hair “Everything will be alright” you promised him, not quite sure what else to say to make him feel better and hugging him tighter to match his strength, so he would understand that you won't be leaving soon
“I want my mum” the boy sobbed, not with an internal intention to hurt you, but as if asking you to do something. You were an adult, you could fix anything, that's what adults do, and the ten-year-old was practically begging you desperately for a solution as he felt.
“Oh, I know, Dickie. I know” you said hugging him tighter “I'm so sorry, baby” you apologised, feeling bad for having no more than words to handle the situation, knowing that nothing will bring that child back to his parents, no matter how much you want to make it happen for him.
You would do anything for that boy. You would destroy yourself, and you would build yourself up again. Not only that, but you would empty out entire universes and kill God himself if necessary. But for now, you just held him while he cried, while he called out to a mother who lay twenty feet under. You knew, at that moment, that there would never be anything you wouldn't do for that boy. And Dick decided that night that maybe you weren't so bad.
Dick Grayson couldn't believe he was standing in the Batcave. He also couldn't believe his adoptive father was Batman. Now he understood why he was always missing for so long, it wasn't that Bruce was ignoring him, it was that he was down there, being a hero for Gotham City. His mind was racing as he walked around the place asking your husband questions and inspecting every nook, artefact, and blemish he found in the place. You and Bruce watched him from a distance, grinning like fools at the uncontrollable excitement of the boy who had long felt like he was your own.
“This is AMAZING” Dick would say whenever something particularly struck him, which means he said it every few seconds.
“See, he told you he would be excited” you told your husband while you took his hand, he smiled at you and brought your clasped hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles affectionately. A silent way of telling you: You were right, love.
“WOW” exclaimed the boy, he was now standing on the platform where the different suits that your husband had used as Batman are displayed “With all due respect, Bruce, but it's good that you left behind the combination of purple and yellow, it was too much” the boy scoffed, pointing at the first suit on display behind him.
“It was the eighties” your husband defended himself with a grimace, rolling his eyes at how similar the comment was to the one you had made the first time you set foot in the cave several years ago. You just laughed as you looked at him, happily remembering that moment.
“Purple looks amazing on you, my love” you assured him, caressing his cheek with your free hand. “Very intimidating” you said, to which both you and Dick chuckled, while Bruce continued to regret his fashion decisions.
“I tried to talk him out of it, Master Dick” Alfred commented, joining the bandwagon of teasing Bruce about his old fashion decisions. “But he insisted,” he shrugged gracefully.
“Okay, I'm going to throw him out of my cave if you don't leave my purple suit alone” Bruce complained, to which you and Dick shared an amused look before the boy returned his attention to the suits on display. Alfred smiled as he watched you kiss your husband in compensation, earning me a goofy smile from him, the one the butler had seen a lot since you two got married.
“HOLY SHIT” Dick suddenly exclaimed, to which you and Bruce turned to look at him wearing it, your husband ready to spring into action at your son's exclamation “You've got the Scarlet Witch suit here!!” the boy exclaimed excitedly, looking at your husband in disbelief before running to stand in front of the glass where your old suit is on display. Well, the word suit was an understatement, because it was a red bodysuit, with a belt, the cape, and high boots. An outfit that was not the best choice for fighting, but you never question it too much, because you were always comfortable in yourself and in that outfit, too.
Bruce and you shared a look. It was time to drop the second bomb on the boy. Now you were the one worried about her reaction.
“How did you get it?” Dick asked excitedly, his nose glued to the glass, pawing it with his breath “I thought the Justice League couldn't get her body back from the Dimension of the Damned after she closed the portal to save us” he said, thinking aloud, while analysing the garment.
Up close, he could see the details of the fabric, the way the cloak had a texture and wasn't smooth as it seemed watching it from the television. It was as if magic was embedded in the fabric, and it moved even when she was still on the mannequin. The boy was fascinated, definitely marking this as the best day of his life.
“Well that's true. The League was unable to recover her body after she closed the portal” explained Bruce, as he hugged your waist, pressing his fingers against you at the memory of those events that still haunt him “But the suit is here for its protection, nothing more, it still belongs to its owner” Bruce finished, letting the boy think a little about his words.
“Wait,” Dick said, frowning and turning away from the video, to walk to the railing of the platform. And how do you have it, if she never left the Dimension of the Damned?” the boy frowned, thinking hard that how could it be that this was the original costume.
“It's more like early retirement than death” Dick jumped in place when you appeared next to him, speaking sweetly to him “But yes, the Scarlet Witch never made it out of the Dimension of the Damned” you explained to him, while you crouch in front of him, the boy turned to face you still confused by what he was saying “Dick, do you remember that we told you that we had to tell you a couple of things?” you asked him and the boy quickly nodded “Well first we wanted to tell you that Bruce is Batman, as you already deduced” you pointed to your husband on the lowest platform “And the other one is that I'm-” Before you could say more, Dick squealed with excitement again.
“YOU ARE THE SCARLET WITCH, HOLY FUCK!!” the boy yelled with his eyes as wide as his eyelids would allow.
“Language, Master Dick” Alfred scolded absently from below.
“OH-MY-GOD” The boy yelled again, looking at me as if you were hanging the stars from the sky, throwing himself on you, hugging you with his arms around your neck “I knew you weren't dead, I argued every day with my friends about this, it didn't make sense for YOU to die just like that, no amount of spawn could kill the Scarlet Witch, it's absurd-” The boy began to ramble as you picked him up in your arms, he hug your hips with his legs intuitively, and you walked down with him in your arms. Smiling softly at the boy's excitement, it was Bruce's turn to give you the Told you so look “This is the BEST day of my life” Dick finished his ramblings as you pulled up next to Bruce, with him still sitting on your hip, and proceeded to grab your husband's neck and hug you both tight. The pull made your husband laugh at the boy's sudden outburst. “My parents are the coolest people on the planet next to Superman, this is the best” the boy declared proudly, ignoring the surprised looks you and Bruce shared immediately after that.
It was the first time his parents had called you, and Dick didn't even think about it much longer, it came out of him so naturally that you two didn't say anything else either. You were mom after that and Bruce was dad, as if the boy had forgotten how to say his name from one moment to the next. And he did it with the greatest happiness in the world.
That night, after Bruce went out on patrol, and you dragged a still very excited Dick to bed, as you tucked him into bed, tucking the covers over him, your son's face suddenly scrunched up at a particular thought.
“What's up, Dikie?” you asked, as you ran your hand over her forehead, concerned at the sudden change in expression.
“Weren't Batman and the Scarlet Witch supposed to hate each other?” he asked you confused, looking down with his head tilted from his pillow.
You laughed, relieved and amused by the question.
“That, my boy, is a story for another day”
And that was it.
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EYES ON FIRE | just pretend
[ next chap ]
synopsis. you and carmen start off on the wrong foot and richie stirs the pot.
word count. 3.5k
warnings. language, hardly proofread but i tried
authors note. lets goooo, this is based off of this headcanon that i would recommend reading before this chapter(kinda treat it as a prologue)--lets get to part one!
"Richie, you dick."
If you had a dime for everytime Richard Jerimovich managed to inconvenience you, you could probably buy the Bean three times over.
But this, this really takes the cake.
“Well if it isn’t our little college graduate here in good ol’ Orleans Street,” Richie cheers, throwing his hands in the air in fake surprise as a smirk rises slowly onto his face. You feel like if you were to glare at the man any harder, you might actually make his head explode.
“What brings you here, sweetheart?”
You take a minute to try to collect yourself before you absolutely blow up in Richie’s face. Carmen stands directly across from you, just behind the bar, dressed in a dirtied white tee stained in a sauce of some kind. He’s very obviously avoiding eye contact with you, leaning over the bar and seemingly very interested in the walls around you.
“If I recall correctly, you asked me to come here, Richie,” you grit out, gripping the tote bag that hangs over your shoulder tighter. You press your lips together before a choice few words slide from between your teeth.
You see Carmen tense up at what you said, shoulders hunching up before dropping almost as quickly. The dirty blonde brings a hand up to his forehead in what you can only assume to be pure disbelief.
You continue. “You called me literally like, two hours ago.”
“Really, me? You sure it wasn’t another Richie? Maybe a Rick?”
“Richie, please don’t piss me off right now. I swear to God–”
A loud slam interrupts the developing argument and nealyr sends you flying out of your skin.
Your eyes dart over to Carmen, whose hands are splayed flat across the span of the bar. His head is tilted down, curls falling to cover almost all of what you could see of his face. He takes a breath before turning his head to look at the older man behind him.
His face is a bright red, angry flush sinking down past the collar of his shirt.
“Richie, you motherfucker,” he grits out, dragging a hand down his mouth before slamming his fist on the bar counter, rattling the plates and miscellaneous cups that littered across it. Richie tenses up behind him, catching on to the anger almost radiating off of him.
"Why the fuck would you invite her here?" Carmen yells, speaking of you like you weren't only a couple feet away from him. You frown, insulted at his disregard of you.
"Oh believe me, I hardly am jumping to be here myself, Berzatto." You spit.
Richie raises his hands in defense, taking a step back as Carmen bucks up towards him. “Hey, man, don’t shoot the messenger.” He casts a stray hand in your direction and Carmen’s eyes instinctively follow, making eye contact for the first time since you entered the restaurant.
The heat of his stare was strong, something that you could best describe as a blend of anxiety and anger. You notice that his eyes trail up and down your form, not in a "checking you out way" and more of a "I cant believe you're here right now" way.
“Bug usually never responds to my messages! Honestly, how was I supposed to know she would now,” Richie continues, still trying to maintain distance away from Carmen.
Carmen seems overwhelmed, split between jumping at Richie for his fake naivete or running a million miles away from you. He curls his hands into fist, and for a second, you think he's going to throw a punch. Quickly though, Carmen steps away from Richie and casts one more look towards you.
You wait for him to say something to your face, but he doesn't.
“I’m leaving,” Carmen mumbles under his breath, taking in another deep breath before abruptly turning and throwing open the kitchen door. The swinging door flies out and hits the wall, a sudden crack that you are sure would leave a dent later. Almost immediately, you hear the sound of distant bustling and pans clattering around.
A voice yells out in confusion. “What the hell, Jeff?”
You bring a hand to your forehead, feeling a headache incoming. It couldn’t have been more than three minutes and simply being around Carmen had given you more stress than you’ve had in the past week. Casting a glance up at Richie, you give him a final glare. The man simply shrugs his shoulders and gives a charismatic grin. “Well, that was pleasant wasn’t it, bug?”
“Ayo, Richie, what the fuck is up with Jeff,” a voice questions as they walk in from the path of destruction that Carmen left in his behind. The owner of that voice is none other than Tina, and for some reason, seeing her alleviates at least some of the headache you feel pulsating across your skull. Tina casts a confused glance at Richie, who simply points over in your direction. Tina’s eyes follow and when she makes eye contact with you a familiar smile drapes across her lips.
"Oh, well now I understand why Jeff's so pissed off."
"Yeah, and then the asshole has the nerve to act all coy, like he didn't blow my phone up with messages begging me to go down to the restaurant," you complained, throwing your head back to take another gulp of the wine in your cup.
In front of you, Sugar swirled her own glass of sparkling grape juice, shaking her head in disbelief at the absurdity of it all.
Shortly after Tina had walked out, you had left the restaurant (not before flipping Richie the bird) and immediately went to text Sugar for a rant session. Being the absolute angel that she is, she agreed almost immediately, stating that she had some qualms she wanted to rave about as well. Two glasses of Merlot for you and some non-alcoholic beverages for Natalie later, you two were sitting on the two ends of Sugar's couch, the TV playing a rerun of Selling New York as background sound for your current conversation.
"Yeah, Richie is a jerk." You nod in appreciation for her understadning your annoyance.
"And don't even get me started on you-know-who's reaction? He barely even acknowledged my existence!" You throw your free hand in the air. "Speaking about me like I wasn't right there?"
You release an exasperated sigh. "The ego on that guy."
Natalie hums, taking a languid sip of her drink. "Well, that sounds like Carmy alright. A tiny little ball of asshole-ery at any given point of time." The blonde reaches a hand over and places it on your knee. "Sorry my brother is such a dick."
You give a small smile at Sugar, resting your own hand on top of hers. "No need, it's clear you took all the 'sane person' genes in the Berzatto bloodline." Your joke pulls a giggle out of Sugar, the slight truth of her statement not missing between the two of you.
"But enough about me," you place your glass down on her coffee table before continuing. "What's going on in your life Nat?"
You listen as she rants about the stress of preparing for a bringing baby into the home. She talks about how those Al-Anon meetings she regularly attends are going, and how her one coworker Bryson seems to have a vendetta against her.
After a moment, Natalie coughs slightly, eyes darting across the living room in thought before returning back to you. "And well, I hate to keep talking about Carmy but..."
The smile drops quickly off of your face as Sugar trails the last word. "But what, Suge?"
"Buttt, Carmen's trying to rebuild The Beef," Sugar peers down into the contents of her glass as she speaks, "he's rebranding it as The Bear, and I've been trying to help him and the crew get everything sorted before they start tearing the building down."
You press your lips together tight at the mention of the familiar name.
"Personally, Carm, I don't see much wrong with the restaurant now?"
"The place is held together by a roll of duct tape and a dream, bug, I don't think you have to look very hard to see some issues."
You glance up at him from your position on his chest, looking as he gazed up at the ceiling of your bedroom. While his gaze was physically directed at the old glow in the dark stars scattered across the ceiling, you could tell his head was in a total different world.
"So you want to start a new restaurant?" You question, watching as Carmen shakes his head as soon as the words leave your lips.
"Nah, I just want to make it better, ya know? For Mikey, and Sugar, and Ma."
Sugar, noticing you are distracted, stops her sentence and gives a little frown, watching as your gaze drifts off somewhere distant.
Despite the years that have past, she knows that you still have feelings towards her brother. She was there for most of it, watching as you and Carmen went from daily hangouts to a weekly phone call, to a monthly check-in text, to, well, nothing.
She consoled you through most of the grieving phase of a post-breakup, like you had done for her a couple of times before. And after a few weeks of busting into tears anytime his name was mentioned, you began to heal, and focused those strong emotions towards improving yourself.
Natalie let a wistful sigh, pulling you out of your thoughts. Shaking the fog away, you give a remorseful smile at having basically cut Sugar off midway through her spiel. She gives you another small smirk before shaking her head, dismissing your silent apology with a wave of her hand. She draws another sip of her sparkling juice.
"But Carmen has been driving me up the wall with all the shit he wants me to help juggle. If I schedule one more appointment I might pull my hair out."
"Oh no, please don't do that, honey," Pete calls out from the kitchen, very obviously having been listening in on your gossip time from the kitchen table. Sugar gives off slight grimace at Pete's abrupt callout at her obvious exaggeration, shrugging her shoulders and giving a placating call back towards her husband.
Reaching back towards the table, you grab the wine glass from earlier. "Do you have anyone to help you? You know I have some connects who can manage the money and strategy end?" You offer, more than willing to alleviate some of the stress from your friend's shoulders.
"Yeah, can I have that guy who assisted you when you managed La Raison?" Sugar teases. "I have no idea how you managed to help that business go from near bankrupt to one of the best sellers down Michigan Avenue."
"Carter? Yeah, no. That dude was an asshat. He was more useful kissing up to the store owners than actually doing his job," you shake your head at the mention of one of your old employers. Since graduating, you had taken into strategic and financial management for businesses across Chicago. La Raison had been one of your main businesses for a while, the owners soon becoming close friends of yours.
You loved what you did, though business management sounded like a right pain to most, you found joy in being able to rub your braincells together and actually make a difference. Plus, the pay wasn't too bad either.
Sugar chuckles. "Yeah, well, I wish I could just have you as a little angel on my shoulder, giving me all the answers to all of these problems that keep popping up."
Though she was joking, you can see the way her brows furrow simply thinking of all of the things that she has to do. You could only imagine the stress she is under right now. Balancing opening a new restaurant with her ever-present family dilemmas, and a baby on the way?
Natalie was beyond used to extensive stress, so you know she won't verbally express all of her worries. But the thought of Sugar carrying all of that on her shoulders draws a slight frown on your face.
Before you know it, the thoughts are falling from your brain and past your lips.
"What if I helped you manage the place."
You honestly do not know why you offered to help manage this fuckery that is disguised as a restaurant.
Shortly after you had offered to help, it was as if Natalie had died, saw the light, and returned back to Earth. She squealed like a teenage girl and thanked you profusely. While she shaked you and explained all the things that needed to be done, you slowly began to realize the implications of your offer.
You, helping Natalie manage Carmen, your ex-boyfriend's, restaurant. A responsibility that would obviously take months.
And honestly, you were tempted to withdraw your offer despite the happy squeals of relief that Natalie was letting out. That was, until the tears of relief started pouring from her eyes.
Those pregnancy hormones really guilt tripped you.
Now, a week later, you're back at The Beef. Well, you suppose The Beef is gone officially now, the rusting sign pulled down from its former position hanging above the restaurant entrance.
"Why the hell did I sign up for this shit," you question out loud, watching as Manny and Angel pulling out a broken sign from inside the restaurant. Sighing, you reach into your bag and pull out a cigarette box, pulling one out before digging for your lighter in your back pocket.
"Mami, what are you doing here?" You turn around at the voice behind you, cigarette hanging loosely from your lips. Tina stands behind you, a smile stretched across her lips. "Seeing you two weeks in a row? Someone must be dying."
You smile, opening your arms for a hug that Tina reciprocates. "Oh you know, I'm here to save your asses from complete and utter failure." Tina gently pats your back as you pull apart, and it makes you regret not checking in on her and the rest of the crew more often.
"Missed you, T." You mutter, a small grin pulling up on one corner of your mouth.
"Missed you too, mami," Tina pats your arm before wrapping her hand around your elbow. "Now, I'm not trying to step on your toes but...you do know who your helping out right?"
You grimace at her implication, the reality hitting you once again. Behind those glass windows stands the man who took your heart and literally tossed it away like it was nothing. Took all of those years that you had spent together and wasted it away.
Broke up with you over fucking text.
And now, you're about to walk into his restaurant and help Sugar, and, consequently, help him fix this fuck up.
Talk about fate.
"Yeah, T," you start, letting her guide you towards the entrance of the restaurant, where you see Marcus and Fak carrying out some lockers. You wave towards the men, to which Fak responds with such enthusiasm that he drops some of the lockers on the ground, much to Marcus' chagrin.
You grimace before continuing. "Just helping my asshole ex because his sister is my bestie."
Sugar had texted you that Sydney, Carmen's former sous chef and business partner, had been more than happy to hire you as a strategic manager for the business. Although she didn't mention it, you knew that a certain dirty-blonde was not so excited at mention of you coming to help.
"He knows we need the help, no matter how fragile his tiny little ego is," Natalie had told you, a knowing smile on her face.
"Don't lose your head, boss." Tina teases, pushing you first through the doorway. As you finally enter the store, you take note of the pure chaos that is the restaurant.
Plywood and debris scattered across the flower, miscellaneous kitchen supplies and utilities lining the walls. Ebraheim and Sweeps were taking a sledgehammer to some random panels, while Richie was yelling something from the kitchen. As you take in the madness, Tina pats your elbow before heading back towards the kitchen.
"Welcome to The Bear!" Richie calls out as soon as he notices you. Spreading his arms out in what you assume is a hug, you only offer him a solid stare. Richie drops his arms and heads towards you despite your very clear disdain for him at the moment. "Glad you could join the team, bug."
"Richie, why the hell are you covered in black dust?"
"Inconsequential, sweetheart," you roll your eyes at his response before stepping over the debris in front of you.
"Where's Nat, Richard," you question walking behind the bar and towards the office in the back. Richie grumbles something under his breath before shouting out 'office.' Busting through the kitchen door, you note that the kitchen is just as messy as the front of the house. Stepping over black dust on the ground, you tread over to the office.
"Suge? You in there?" You call out, peering over the corner and into the office. The room is unoccupied, filled with nothing but discarded papers with miscellaneous phone numbers and sprawled writings.
You make note of what you know to be Nat's handwriting, eyes trailing over all of her notes for appointments and scheduling. Your eyes also rove over the chicken scratch that you also know to be Carmen's scribbles. Placing your bag down on the desk, you sit down in the rolling chair and decide to wait for Sugar to come in.
You grabbed a random pile of papers and attempted to digest some of the information being presented to you.
Bank statements, IRS requests, insurance, licenses, permits.
Judging by all the shit that needed to get cleared just for the restaurant to legally be open, your surprised that Mikey wasn't being physically chased down by the IRS and thrown into jail.
"Hey, Sugar, Syd and I are going to work on the chaos menu tonight so I'm going to leave the rest up to you, okay?"
Carmen slings around the corner, too focused on pulling his coat on his shoulders to notice who exactly was sitting in the office.
Instinctively, you freeze at his sudden appearance in the doorway, breath caught in your throat. At the lack of response, Carmen finally looks up and makes direct eye contact with you.
His blue eyes widen, clearly not expecting you to be the person in the chair. You rack your brain over the next move to make, the silence continuing as he just stands in the doorway and practically gawks at your existence.
Deciding that staring indefinitely at each other was probably one of the worst things you can currently think of, you clear your throat to break the silence. That seems to break Carmen out of whatever state of shock he seemed to be in; you watch as he awkwardly wrings his hands, like he was at a lost of what to do next.
You're half-expecting him to make a repeat of the last time you saw each other and storm away from you. However, Carmen just stands there, eyes darting from you to random objects in the office then you again on repeat.
Both of you are waiting for the other to say something. To yell, chastise, and start an argument.
Biting the bullet, you start. "Hey, Carmen."
He seems to be taken aback that you even uttered his name, eyes meeting yours once again. You almost forgot how blue his eyes are-so bright that they're almost clear.
He nods in acknowledgement before saying your name to greet you in return.
Awkward silence fills the room once again. While you know that Carmen is hardly a conversationalist, this has to be the most painful quiet you've ever experienced.
Be amicable, you think to yourself. He's your boss/business partner now.
You're doing this for Sugar.
"Umm..," you trail off, eyes scanning the office around you in attempts to find something else to talk about. "I tried to find Nat, but she might have gone A.W.O.L"
Carmen nods his head a couple of times, a soft hmm leaving his lips. You can tell that he wants to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue but sealed behind his lips.
"Yeah, ok-okay, yeah." He nods rapidly, crossing his arms across his chest, lowering his gaze down to your shoes.
"Yep."
God, someone shoot me now.
Carmen clears his throat. "I-I-uuhh, you know, Sugar really appreciates the help."
You nod, licking your lips out of habit. "Yeah, she's told me."
"Yeah?"
"Yep."
Just when you were about to figure out a way to turn invisible or sink into the floor, Sugar rounds the corner and lightly bumps into Carmen's back. She lets out a noise of surprise from her throat and Carmen jerks forward a little.
"Carmy, why the fuck are you standing in the fucking doorwa-" Sugar cuts herself off when she spots you over her brother's shoulder. She makes eye contact with you and you swear you see a little mischief in her eyes. She pushes past Carmen to step inside of the office, crossing her arms over chest to assess the room.
You, sitting in the office chair, papers still grasped tightly in your hands and your lips practically licked dry from your nerves.
Across, Carmen stands angled towards Sugar, almost trying to physically minimize the amount of eye contact you two share.
Natalie surmises that she just saved the both of you from a very awkward moment "Oh, shit. Didn't mean to interrupt."
"No-no, uh, you're good, Sugar," Carmen sputters out, face flushing a bright red. He brings a hand over his mouth to physically stop the word vomit that was about to fall out of it. "Umm, was just gonna tell you that Sydney and I are leaving to work on the new menu."
Sugar's eyes dart over to you again, sitting stiffly in the office chair. She raises her eyebrows in question but you subtly shake your head.
Let's not talk about it right now.
She nods in acknowledgement before turning to fully face Carmen.
"Okay Carmy, you're good to go. Me and Bug here are just gonna get some paperwork sorted." Carmen looks in your direction at the use of the familiar nickname before he hmms again.
He takes a step back and waves his hand in goodbye. "All right, bye Sugar," he's fully outside of the doorway now, but he pauses before leaving you and Sugar's line of sight completely.
He stands there for a beat, running whatever thought across his mind a couple times. Finally, like he settled on an answer, Carmen gulps and raises his head to look at you.
He nods his head and whispers out your name and a goodbye, followed by a swift exit out of the kitchen.
You're practically stuck in the chair, the past five minutes having been a complete whirlwind. The kitchen door whips against the wall in a crack, the squeaking echoing from your place in the office. Your gaze is still focused on where your ex-boyfriend had stood not even a couple of seconds ago.
"Well," Sugar starts, a knowing smile across her face. "That wasn't as violent as I thought it was going to be."
requests to be in the taglist for this fic in the replies below or send me an ask! thank you all for reading!
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OMG NO 😂😂
From what i saw from greys he isnt dereks brother i think ??
Also... Mark slept with dereks sister in the show so i thought it was ok to ask?
Sorry if i didnt make myself clear tho 😂
But she can totally not be dereks sister
Anyway sorry for the confusion
New Beginnings
alex karev x reader
tags : angst, some fluff, uhhh more tags, this is a little everywhere but i hope its okay, not that sad but enough to need a part 2
“Derek? Wha-“
“I need to stay here tonight.” He kept his head down as he shuffled his way through the door, water drops flowing off his hair.
“Is everything okay? Where’s Addison?” The look Derek gave you was almost enough to answer every question that was running through your head. You stood silently as he threw his duffel bag on the couch, his soaked jacket following. He plopped down in the arm chair, palms rubbing his face.
“I’ll get you some hot cocoa to warm up.”
“No don’t I’m fine.”
Your eyebrow raised at his poor attempt in deterring your concern.
“Oh god you look like mom.” Derek chuckled, lighting the heaviness in the room.
“What happened with Addison Derek? Why are you here?”
His face dropped once more almost immediately. The change drawing regret straight out of your core. “I found her sleeping with Sloan.”
“Mark!?” Hearing the most unexpected name come out your stomach churned in a way that made you swear you were about to hurl. The barriers around your emotions all crumbling at once.
“Are we really surprised.” Derek sighed, flattening himself out onto the couch.
“I mean? Yes? No? I don’t.. I mean he’s your best friend?” Surely it wasn’t out of character for Marks sexual.. tendencies to say the least. But still there was a part of you that couldn’t believe he’d sleep with the wife of the man he practically called a brother. Especially after growing so close to him in the past months. You shared everything together and nothing that was said or done could’ve prepared you for this. Your heart ached more then it ever did before, both for Derek but also yourself. Mark was your first, and you had naively convinced yourself he’d be the last. And though you wanted more than anything to curl up in a ball on the floor with Derek and sob your eyes out until the numb feeling that soared through your nerve endings disappeared, Derek didn’t know anything about you and Mark, and you sure as hell weren’t about to have this be the time he finds out. It took more then you thought you had in you to conceal your emotions. Fighting back the familiar sting of tears became a war for the first time, but you stood your ground against it. Sure you and Mark hadn’t taken the time to talk about making things exclusive, but really you didn’t think you needed to. What you felt with Mark was enough to flood your senses full, not able to even consider someone else entering the picture.
And maybe you were stupid to think he felt the same.
It felt futile to hide the burn in your chest, knowing it was evident in your face. But still you tried to mask your feelings, hoping it would be seen as nothing but compassion towards your brother. You’d drag the sun out by your bare hands to bring sunshine after a life of darkness if it meant the best for Derek.
“Yeah well obviously that doesn’t mean much.” The scene of Derek face down on the couch with his arms dangling at weird angles was almost comical enough to bring you out of your anger. In a sad attempt to stifle your laugh, a small giggle escaped your lips. Derek just looked up from his resting spot and gave you the warmest smile you’ve seen from him all night, the picture perfect resemblance of a child.
“Derek I don’t-“ You were cut off mid sentence by the ringing of Dereks phone. He was hesitant to pick it up, most likely praying to himself it wasn’t the two talks of the night.
“Hold that thought I have to take this.” He cleared his throat before answering the phone, his eyebrows stiffening. “Hi Richard, sorry for emailing so late..” Was all you caught as he stepped out of the room.
The anticipation building in you was almost enough to drive you mad. Derek had been on the phone for ten minutes now and you weren’t able to hear any of it. You had began your (what felt like at least) 100th lap around the room, as Derek finally stepped back in. The suspense in the room falling instantly as his demeanor brought nothing but a strange joy.
“Richard Webber from Seattle Grace just called.”
“Okay..?” You sat down on the couch, Derek following.
“He found us both a job, very well pay, I’d be head of neuro, and you’ll be a trauma attending ! It’s perfect! He said he could even throw in a sign on bonus for you for the sudden notice! We start Monday.”
“At Seattle Grace?”
“Well obviously.”
“Derek? Are you insane? Like are you actually going insane because if you are I can understand why.”
“Am I.. Are you going insane? Y/n this is the perfect job opportunity! It’s everything you’ve worked for come on!”
There was a shared silence between the two of you, you each studying the other trying to feel out the mix of emotions you both had been throwing out into the room. Derek looked at you with eyes of an insane man, his lips a curl of typical mischief.
“Derek. This job is in Seattle. Seattle Washington! We live in New York! You can not bring in a life changing job, and move, that I have to do in two days and expect me to jump at it! I know you want to get away from Addison right now but Seattle seriously? Don’t you think that’s taking it a little far?”
“Yes! That’s the point. Come with me or don’t but you’ll sure as hell look idiotic for not.” You let out a sigh at his words, your jaw tensing.
“Derek we’re talking about both of our whole lives right now. Our family is here, our homes, hell our jobs!”
~
“Y/n! welcome to Seattle Grace. I know the offer was a short notice but I appreciate you coming.” Richard Webber, the chief of Seattle Grace, greeted you at the entrance. A great smile plastered across his face as he reached out to shake your hand.
“Of course Richard. Thank you for the offer. I know you wanted me out sooner but like I told Derek, it was insane for me to do the move in two days. So I really do appreciate the exception, it was more than generous of you.” You smiled, accepting the greeting.
“Oh i know it was. But anything for an old friend’s family. And it would be great to have another genius on hand.”
“Old friend?”
“Oh yes, Dr. Shepherd and I have worked on a few cases together in the past. I’ve spent my fair share of time in New York.” Richard spoke as he began to walk through the hospital, his hand reaching behind him to motion for you to follow. “Now I know Derek has been working here for a week now, and could show you around, but I’m going to go ahead and assign you an intern for the day. Someone to show you around and have do all the unnecessary paperwork for you.”
“Oh no Dr. Webber, no need to do that. You’ve already accommodated so much around me. Surely I can find my way around today.”
“Absolutely no need for that Dr. Shepherd. Let me make the day easier for you please.” You smiled at Richard and nodded, fully appreciating the gesture. He nodded and turned around, his finger pointing to a shorter woman across the room at the nurses station.
“Bailey!” The woman whipped her head around, eyebrows raised and an unfazed expression spread on her face. She began walking towards you and Richard, five other doctors following her lead almost immediately. You giggled to yourself as they all looked like a scene of baby ducks following their mom; though these baby ducks did look particularly tired and worn.
“Can you give me one of your children please. I need someone to be with Dr. Shepherd for the day while she settles in. You know like show her around yada yada.”
“Karev go.” Dr. Bailey ordered turning around and beginning to walk back to what she was doing.
“Me? But I’ve got-“ One of the doctors that had been following Bailey began saying, walking backwards to keep up with her in order to plea.
“Karev. GO.”
He stood in the middle of the room, arms up in defeat. You almost felt bad for him until he turned to face you, eyes narrowed and lips pursed as if this was somehow your fault.
“Come on lets get this over with.” He snarled while walking back towards you.
“Hey don’t be pissed at me, I sure as hell didn’t want you to be the one showing me around.” Karev stopped to take a good look at you, almost completely dumbfounded after your response. He scanned your face, either trying to decide who you were to talk to him like that, or the opposite of the spectrum and he was just trying to hide his admiration.
Your grand hospital tour was finally coming to an end after almost two hours. Alex had taken the time to show you each wing, introduce you to each head of department, and even showed you the vending machines that are least likely to scam you. At first he had seemed like a nightmare to be around, almost like a brooding angsty teenager who didn’t like anyone, but after warming up to him (or maybe him warming up to you?) Alex actually seemed more then tolerable. He made you laugh more then you have in awhile. His presence lighting you more than you’ve felt since your first night with Mark, which in all honesty bewildered you more then you imagined. Questioning yourself on how, or why you had become so comfortable around Alex in such little of time.
Honestly he felt like Mark felt. But for some sick reason, that maybe was just a play on your emotions, the man you had just met three hours ago made you feel lighter then Mark had in 20 years. He felt like a flow of fresh rain water after a drought, cleansing you of all toxins and slowly making you new. He was rain and you were the starved flower.
Yet Mark felt like the water saved from the last rain. Still coursing through your veins and settling into your heart and soul. Something that once kept you alive, was once your everything, now something you couldn’t get out of your system without feeling like you were sucked dry, moments away from an inevitable end.
It hadn’t quite struck you how much the Mark situation had hit you before now. Really you hadn’t had time to feel how the situation made you feel. The thought of butterflies returning to you uncovered a deep empty void that was quick to cover your senses.
The sudden wave of emotions hit you hard, but still you tried to remain as unaffected by it as possible. Though you knew you had done quite the shitty job of that after you caught Alex glancing at you with concern from the corner of your eye.
“So,” he coughed, obviously trying to diffuse the odd tension that had began. “What department do you plan to work in after residency?”
“Well actually I’m a trauma attending.”
“Attending? You look younger than me!”
“Well I am 24.” You giggled at the widened eyes of Alex, his jaw practically on the floor.
“24!?”
“Yep! Baby of the family.”
“Baby of the entire hospital! I mean how’d you even get here?”
“Well Dr. Karev that is a long story we could discuss over coffee tomorrow morning.” It was out your mouth before you could even sit to consider it. Alex looked taken aback for a moment, obviously not expecting that just as much as you were.
“Deal.” Alex warmly smiled, his eyes gleaming with something more than before.
okay hii!!! this req is so late im so sorry😭 also this isnt the og post but i cant find that one so I am using this!!! im gonna be honest ive wrote this little by little over the past few months so i really hope its all somewhat cohesive ????? idk atleast readable but im also crossing my fingers that this is okay cause its my first req :)
so without being said i hope you guys enjoyed and i will be making a part two trust 🙏🏻
and listen i know being 24 and being an attending is like damn near impossible but its greys. there was literally a unfazed bazooka in a guys chest.
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Damian doesn’t like fish.
He tolerates the meat that is served at the manor most nights, even though it sits heavily and unpleasantly in his stomach. He puts up with Shepherd’s pie and spaghetti bolognaise and pork ribs, because the others seem to love it, singing praises for Alfred’s cooking every night, and Damian doesn’t want to appear ungrateful, or unusual, or out of place.
Then one night Alfred makes steamed fish, cooked in lemongrass and ginger, drizzled with soy sauce.
“I’ve noticed you don’t exactly enjoy our usual meals,” he says, and before Damian can protest, continues, “I looked up this recipe for you, I hope you’ll like it.”
Damian doesn’t like fish.
“Thank you,” he says, and then eats every bite. Alfred seems genuinely pleased and it fills him with warmth, which makes up for the way his stomach curled at the unpleasant texture.
Damian learnt to cook at a young age.
He was always busy, with lessons and training, his grandfather always pushing him to do more, to do better. Sometimes in the evening, however, he would follow his mother to the kitchen, where she would chop onions, fry spices in oil, and roll out rotis, getting flour in her pinned-back hair.
“Why do you cook?” he asked her, “You don’t have to.”
His mother laughed. “I like to,” she said, “Do you want to try rolling the roti?”
His first attempt came out uneven and oddly pentagonal, nothing like the perfect circles his mother made. She still ate it, and told him that it was the best roti she’d ever had.
Damian learnt to cook at a young age.
He also learnt that love was when someone made you a food you didn’t like and you ate it anyways and loved it, because you loved them.
His mother came back from Delhi once and brought him jalebis. “They were your favourite when you were younger,” she said.
Damian was eight now, and didn’t like the heavy, syrupy sweetness of jalebis anymore. But his mother was holding the gold-patterned box that she’d brought just for him, her hand resting gently in his hair, and he could feel a warmth rising up inside him, feeling like it would choke him if it got too big. He would have eaten a thousand jalebis to feel like this all the time.
Damian doesn’t understand a lot of things.
“Sorry I’m late, Alfred,” Richard says breathlessly. “I brought ice cream?”
Damian doesn’t hear Alfred’s reply, but it makes Richard laugh. There are footsteps, and then Richard enters the living room where they’ve all gathered, looking wind-blown and ruffled but delighted to see all his siblings together. Damian knows how rare it is for all of them to gather in the manor, and he appreciates the opportunity to spend time with his family.
“What kind of ice cream did you get?” Drake asks.
“Mint chocolate chip,” Richard replies, and there’s a general cheer of appreciation through the room.
“My favourite,” Stephanie declares.
Richard grins, and comes around the sofa to give her a hug from behind. “That’s why I got it.”
Damian hates mint chocolate chip. He’d told Richard that once, when they were up on a rooftop after a night of patrol, expressing his disgust for the mismatched flavours at great length while Richard laughed. “How could anyone hate mint chocolate chip?” he’d asked with an exaggerated gasp of offence, but he’d seemed amused.
Damian loves Richard more than he’s loved anyone in his life. If Richard brings him mint chocolate chip ice cream, then Damian will love it too.
Alfred comes into the room with a tray laden with bowls, each filled with that brown-speckled green concoction. Damian waits for his, but when Alfred reaches him, he unearths a bowl of vanilla and hands that to Damian instead.
Damian stares at it. He’s so surprised that he barely remembers to thank Alfred.
“I got vanilla for you,” Richard tells him, as he settles into the couch next to him with a contented sigh. He grins. “I remember how much you hate mint chocolate chip.”
Damian doesn’t understand a lot of things.
He knows the way Richard’s arm curls around his shoulders, however, and the way his grip tightens slightly as Damian leans into him, watching the others bicker over what movie they’re watching. Damian eats his vanilla ice cream, that Richard got specifically for him, and feels that familiar warmth.
It feels like love.
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@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face
BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇
---
“So, how was your day?”
Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie.
And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.
“That bad, huh?”
Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.
She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.
He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.
She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.
“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”
“Oh? What’s he done now?”
“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”
“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”
“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”
“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”
“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”
“Damn straight it won't.”
She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.
Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.
They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.
“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”
“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.
“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”
Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.
“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”
“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”
“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”
“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”
“You’ve already got me.”
She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”
He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”
“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”
Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.
“What is it?”
“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”
“Yes?”
“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”
“What?”
“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”
“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”
“Ellie, what?”
“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"
Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.
“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”
“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”
“No. No, you have not.”
“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”
“Right. Yes, that follows.”
“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”
“What?”
Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information.
Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.
Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.
“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”
“What?”
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I feel like people who don't watch titans don't understand what its like to watch titans. like "its bad" no you don't understand
Jason kills a man and then roleplays with prostitutes to apologize
amazing ms anne diop STEALS THE SHOW
You get to a scene where you're expecting a big final confrontation and then Dick's just hit by a car. end scene. he spends 5 minutes in the hospital, moving on -
made me sad about HANK FUCKING HALL dying not ONCE BUT TWICE!! HANK HALL!!
raven leaves for an ENTIRE season to bring Donna back to life, has an episode where she comes to term with Donna death THE B-PLOT OF THE SAME EPISODE IS DONNA DECIDING TO COME BACK TO LIFE
The reason Donna decides to go back to life is that Tim's mad his death wasn't cool enough he wants to try again
Tim proceeds to spend every other fight scene curled up in a corner or hiding behind a strong woman preferably both
The have the literal most comic accurate Joey I've seen in my life in an adaptation an extremely relatable version of Kom that is super sympathetic to her, they work with themes like family and shared trauma and change things to make parallels between characters
Gar turns into a bat and dunks Dicks body into the lazurus pit
superboy mpreg
The cutest possible DickKory and THE BEST GAR I LOVE U SO MUCH
15 year old pretending to be the red hood and its funny but its also so sad
we interrupt this show to tell you that DICK IS A BOTTOM WHO WAS IN A MASOCHISTIC DOM/SUB RELATIONSHIP WITH JINX. okay u can continue
Babs and Joey are played by disabled actors
Donna dies by an electrical cable falls on her. Amazonian strength? never heard of her
They hype up trigon for all of season one and then spend 5 dollars on his CGI
Deathstroke comes back as a zombie and gets decapitated ❤️🥰🥰. Proceeds to stick his head back on 👎👎
Dick's legal name is Dick. Richard? never heard of her
an incredibility nuanced view of Kom and Kory's relationship in a way that pulls from the comics and changes a lot while keeping much of the same themes in a way that makes this show act like an excellent foil that enriches the original source material, especially in relation to their parents and mirroring countless side plots
at some point scarecrow gets jason high and dances an u just... watch i guess
Gar can only turn into a tiger for 3 seasons but then the show feels bad so he turns into a virus
There is no god or coherency in titans, the quality fluctuates widely from seconds of the show, its the best adaptation of the titans that has ever come out they tease a road trip EVERY SEASON and we have not had A SINGLE ROAD TRIP EPISODE
AND PEOPLE SAY ITS A BAD SHOW????? HOW CAN YOU CALL THIS BAD U DONT UNDERSTAND U DONT UNDERSTAND
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This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! ✨
@harringrove-relay-race
Read it on Ao3
I took the 500 words minimum word limit and blew it out of the water, so... enjoy.
(unbeta'd)
***********
I wanna do everything with you
the coffee shop au x college au x enemies to lovers x there was only one bed fic you never knew you needed... (also, with basketball!)
***********
“Out of the way, pretty boy.”
Steve grits his teeth and presses himself closer to the coffee machine so Hargrove has room to walk past him. Why the guy decided to bring in another box of coffee grounds during rush hour when there are three full bags in the cupboard already, Steve has no idea.
The Californian import is probably doing it to mess around with Steve as usual. Steve sighs as he gets back to making the next drink on his list. As much as he has enjoyed working at The Dolphin Café over the summer, he can’t wait for fall to arrive and classes to start. He won’t have to see Hargrove again after that.
He isn’t sure why Hargrove has it in for him like that, he’s barely talked to the guy since he started. Not on purpose, but they usually have different shifts and the way Hargrove stares at him sometimes when they’re working together makes Steve uneasy. Makes him feel things he’d rather not think about.
Billy Hargrove is hot and he knows it and he seems to loooooove the attention from everyone, regardless of gender. Golden curls, a killer smile, a sculpted chest he keeps exposing by not buttoning up his shirt, no matter how many times their manager reminds him he should and jeans so tight they look painted on. Yeah, the guy is the full package.
Too bad the full package is also arrogant as fuck and determined to get on Steve’s last nerve every shift. So Steve takes deep breaths and smiles even when he wants to scream, and he focuses on filling orders and the end of summer.
He is counting the days until he can see Robin again, once she’s back from her trip to Germany. He’s really missed his best friend all summer and he knows there is no way his dad would have agreed to their deal without her.
Steve will always be grateful to Robin for helping him craft a proposition Richard Harrington agreed on. They’d even got a lawyer involved and his father had signed off on it, promising he’d pay Steve an allowance while he’s in college if he managed to get accepted and hold a job all summer beforehand.
Steve knows how lucky he is to have gotten in, even if it’s on a basketball scholarship. The look on his father’s face had been worth all the extra work he’d put in. The knowledge Richard Harrington has lost this particular battle against his only son, whom he deems a complete idiot, is the cherry on top.
Now Steve just needs to survive the last couple of weeks at the coffee shop, with Hargrove breathing down his neck at every opportunity. Then he’ll be free, and in college, and he can hang out with Robin again.
***
“Tell me more about this guy,” Robin asks the second she gets in his car, her bags filling the backseat and the trunk of the Beamer.
Steve instantly regrets offering her a ride to her dorm. It’s a long drive back to Chicago and his last shift is still fresh in his mind. Well, what happened when he’d clocked out for the last time anyway. Steve said goodbye to the manager who reminded him he could still come back for weekend shifts. Steve once again declined his offer and told him he was done with the Dolphin Café, as staff anyway. Hargrove was behind the counter and stared at him for the duration of that entire conversation, his eyes full of what looked like hurt. Steve glanced away and walked out without a word.
“You know as much as I do already, why must we spend more time on the subject?” Steve knows he’s whining but fuck, it’s not enough that he spent all summer working with the guy, now his best friend wants to talk about him as well? Steve is so fucking glad he never told her about the dreams. No one, EVER, needs to find out about those.
“Because, dingus,” Robin starts, cutting him that look of hers that means she knows something Steve doesn’t. It’s a look he’s really familiar with by now.
He sighs. “What? Spit it out, Rob. It’s a long drive and I’d rather talk about something else.”
Robin snorts and Steve glares.
“The dingus doth protest too much, methinks,” she says and Steve groans.
"Stop it."
“Oh come on, Steve. From everything you’ve told me about this guy, it’s clear to me you have a crush on him and I th—”
“What? What the fuck, Robin?” Steve swerves a bit from the surprise but manages to keep the car in the appropriate lane. “Leaving aside the fact that I am, you know, straight, how exactly did you get to that conclusion?”
“Really? Did you not hear yourself over the past three months? Hargrove this, and Hargrove that, you haven't stopped talking about him.”
“Because he’s been a pain in my ass since the day he started at work! He’s constantly in my face, calling me names and making a nuisance of himself.” Steve is getting worked up, because why can’t Robin see the problem? He takes a few calming breaths, and focuses on the road.
“He’s pulling your pigtails, dingus.”
“What? No! He hates me, and I didn’t even do anything.”
Robin shakes her head and Steve doesn’t need to sneak a glance her way to know she’s rolling her eyes.
“Steve…”
“No.” There is no way. Is there?
“Fine. Enjoy staying in Egypt, I heard it’s nice this time of year.”
“Whatever.”
Steve is glad that Robin drops it then and moves on to talking about the classes she is gonna be taking when college starts.
***
Billy is stacking the latest batch of lemon blueberry muffins on the display stand when he hears a familiar voice. He glances up to scan the sparse Sunday afternoon crowd and spots Harrington walking towards one of the booths in the back.
He’s chatting animatedly with a girl Billy hasn’t seen before. She’s got light brown hair and big eyes and talks with her hands a lot. Harrington must have said something stupid because the girl punches him in the shoulder and he laughs it off, while rubbing the spot she hit. Their behavior gives off a sibling vibe, which does nothing to quell the longing in Billy’s chest.
They sit on opposite sides and the girl looks up at the menu on the big boards behind the counter. Harrington sneaks a few glances around and Billy looks away before they make eye contact.
It’s a surprise to see Harrington again after he announced his departure a week ago. Billy is still getting over the feeling of betrayal upon finding out his secret crush was leaving, as he was walking out the door.
He thought he’d have more time to try to turn the stupid rivalry into some kind of friendship. But he always seems to rub Harrington the wrong way, no matter what he says. From the day Billy started at The Dolphin Café at the end of July, he’d tried to make friends but Harrington wanted no bar of it.
Billy finishes placing the last muffin on the stand and puts the dome cover on top in time for Harrington’s friend to come up to the counter to order.
“Hello, welcome to the Dolphin Café. What can I get you?” he smiles as he asks and the girl smiles back, her eyes dropping to his name tag for a second.
“Hey Billy. I’m Robin. The best friend. Can I get two of those delicious looking muffins please, a cappuccino and a mocha with four sugars and extra whipped cream.”
“Ah, yes, the Harrington special. Coming right up.”
The girl snorts and Billy chances a glance in Harrington’s way. He is reclining in his booth, glaring at them, and looks away the second Billy’s eyes meet his.
“Is that an actual item on the menu or a name you made up just for him?” she asks, leaning her elbows on the counter.
Billy feels his face warm up and he turns towards the coffee machine, praying Robin can’t tell he’s blushing. He busies himself making the drinks she ordered, mulling over his answer before things get too weird.
“Um…” He shrugs, sprinkling cinnamon on her cappuccino. “I mean, I did ask Hop to add it to the menu as a legacy item since Steve left, but he declined.”
“Aw, my poor dingus is not special enough to make the menu. He’ll be heartbroken.” The smirk on her face and the tone in her voice belie her words and it’s Billy’s turn to snort.
“Pretty sure he hated this place so…” Billy places the drinks on a tray, with the muffins Robin ordered. “You go sit down, I’ll bring them over.”
“Thanks, Billy.”
Billy follows Robin back to the booth and carefully unloads the contents of the tray on the table. He manages to not look at Harrington while he does but he can feel him watching his every move. It’s unsettling and rekindles the fire in Billy’s chest.
Fuck.
“Thanks.” The frosty clipped tone does things that it shouldn’t to Billy’s insides and he focuses on Robin instead.
“Enjoy. Sing out if you need anything else.”
“Thank Billy,” she says again with a grin.
With a nod, Billy leaves, stopping to clear a table and wipe it clean on his way back to the counter. He needs a smoke but it’s a while yet until his break. A loud group walks in and he is happy to be kept busy. He still notices when Harrington and Robin leave and wonders if that was the last time he’s ever gonna see him.
***
A week later, Billy walks into the gym for the first basketball practice. His advisor was surprised he’d picked a sport as an elective, he’s an English Lit major after all. Makes Billy want to cackle really. Seems people either think he’s a meathead and want him for his body, or they’re shocked to learn there’s more to books and case studies in his life.
He steps around the corner in the changing room and a familiar voice stops him in his tracks. Keeping his eyes on the locker numbers, he locates his and heads over, dumping his gym bag on the bench in front of his assigned locker.
“Hargrove?” Harrington’s voice reaches him, surprise and dismay thick in his tone. “What the fuck?”
Billy glances at him and nods once in acknowledgment before focusing on getting changed. He can hear Harrington muttering about him to the guy he’s standing with a few feet away but he manages to tune them out. Force of habit, really. Growing up with Neil Hargrove has taught him not to react and he has become really good at it.
The coach walks in and sends them into the gym to do some laps as a warm up. After some drills to see where they’re at, he splits them into two teams. Billy plays skins, and to his great delight, Harrington ends up on the opposing team.
They’re both point guards which means Billy can get up close to try and stop Harrington when he gets the ball. He is thrilled to discover that Harrington is as competitive as he is on the court, even if he seems to have trouble staying upright when Billy crashes into him to steal the ball.
Billy offers Harrington a hand, half surprised when the other guy takes it, and he leans down close, the pendant around his neck nearly touching Harrington’s chin.
“You were moving your feet. Plant them next time, draw a charge!” He lets go of Harrington’s hand, his fingers tingling from the contact and steps over him to go back to his side of the court as they reset the play. He feels Harrington’s eyes on his back as he walks away but forces himself to look straight ahead, trying to get his breathing under control.
Fuck, that was exhilarating. Billy knows he needs to be careful how close he gets to Harrington because basketball shorts don’t hide much and he doesn’t need the embarrassment or the rumors that would follow him like the plague.
Once training is over, he showers in a corner as fast as he can and gets out of there, glancing at Harrington on his way out. He nearly walks into the door jamb when he clocks the hair on the guy’s chest and manages to dress in record time, despite the semi he’s now sporting.
Tight jeans conceal anything, thank fuck for small mercies. He shoves his gym clothes in his bag and hightails it out of there like hellhounds are on his tracks.
Once in his car, he allows himself to breathe, closing his eyes and letting himself remember the literal fur covering Harrington’s fucking chest. He’d give pretty much anything to run his fingers through that.
Billy groans, pressing his palm on his crotch to relieve some of the pressure and turns the engine on. He’s got a shift at the Dolphin in ten minutes and he can’t afford to be late. Jerking off to the memories of Harrington naked in the shower will have to wait.
***
“One Harrington special!” Robin announces as she puts down Steve’s drink on the table, before flopping on the chair across from him.
“Shhhh, Robin, we’re in a library!” Steve whispers and Robin rolls her eyes.
“No one cares, dingus.”
Steve takes a sip of his coffee, watching Robin get her laptop out of her bag. He frowns. “What did you call my drink just now?”
“Oh, um, the Harrington special. That’s what Billy called it the other day when we were at the coffee shop.”
“I’m sorry. Billy?” Steve stares at her and she shrugs. “Robin, why are you on a first name basis with that guy?”
“Cos he’s nice? And funny? And, like, really really clever?”
“What. The. Fuck?” Steve has no words. He can’t comprehend the betrayal twisting in his gut right now.
Robin sighs. “He’s in my Romantic Poetry class and also my Literature of the Commonwealth class. He’s also in my Creative Writing Workshop class and we may or may not be working on a project together. Don’t be mad.”
“Robin. I… you… what?”
“See, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I know you’d be weird about it.”
“Only because you seem to have swapped me for my fucking nemesis.”
“Oh my god, you’re so fucking dramatic. You’ve been hating the guy for months for no reason.”
“Robin! I told you what he did. How he was with me. All summer when I worked at the Dolphin! If anything, he’s the one who hates me.”
Robin gives him that look that says he’s being a giant whiny baby (her words) and Steve sits back in his chair, sipping his coffee. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Robin won’t listen or take him seriously anyway.
“Steve, let me ask you this,” Robin starts, and he can tell she’s trying to be patient with him. “Why would a guy who hates you name a drink after you?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I don’t know, okay. I don’t know how his brain works, or why he called me pretty boy and sweetheart for three months straight. Makes no sense to me.”
“Really?”
Okay now she’s giving him the ‘oh can you so fucking dense’ look and Steve decides enough is enough.
“You know what, whatever. I’m gonna go.” He closes his laptop and starts gathering his notes. His statistics assignment can wait. He already got an extension anyway. “Need to pack for my trip. We’re leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow and I need to go to bed early or I’ll miss the bus.”
“Ah yes, the basketball trip. Billy mentioned it at our study session last night.”
“Last night? That’s why you blew me off for movie night?” Steve is getting more pissed off by the minute. He closes his backpack and grabs his coffee, though he’s not sure he wants to drink it anymore.
“Did you miss the part where I said we are working on a group project for a class?” Robin asks, leaning forward on her elbows, one eyebrow raised. He hates that she can do the eyebrow thing and he can’t.
“He better keep his hands to himself or I will punch him.”
“Yeah well, you can relax with your macho bullshit, cos he knows about me not liking boys.”
“You told him?”
“It came up,” Robin replies, mysterious as ever.
“Fine. Whatever. You know what? Keep your little secret rendez-vous and your brainiacs study sessions that I will never understand. I’ll see you when I get back, unless Hargrove kills me while we’re away.”
He leaves the library in a huff, Robin’s cackle following him out the door.
The next morning, Steve gets to the bus with two minutes to spare. He shoves his bag in the luggage compartment before stepping onto the bus, running a hand through his hair to try and tame it. Of course he slept through his stupid alarm and now he owes Robin, again, because she called him to check he was awake.
He spots Hargrove at the back of the bus, with Tommy Hagan and Jason Carver, so he sits at the front and keeps his head turned towards the window.
They get to the school where they’re playing that afternoon and Coach gets them to run drills and warm-ups for a couple of hours. Steve manages to stay away from Hargrove as much as possible, though Hargrove seems to have dialed down the hostilities and only shoves him once.
Soon enough it’s time for the game and they get stuck into it, the instructions yelled by Coach taking precedence over everything else.
It’s a hard fought battle, the opposition is really good, but their team prevails at the last moment, thanks to Hargrove.
Finally, it’s over, Steve is exhausted but happy. He ends up next to Hargrove for the team huddle and for once he doesn’t mind being this close. They’re all riding the high of beating a good team and it’s a heady feeling.
After they’ve all showered and filed back onto the bus, they make their way to the motel. Once they park there, Coach announces that due to budget issues, they’ve had to reduce the number of rooms they could book and they’re all gonna have to bunk with each other.
A collective groan travels down the length of the bus at the revelation. Steve barely pays attention. He doesn’t care who he gets told to bunk with as long as it’s not Hargrove, and he’s pretty sure the other guy feels the same and will ask to stay with Tommy or Carver.
“Right, lads, me and Ms Ross decided that the easiest and most fair way was to lump you alphabetically.”
When Steve hears that, he knows he’s fucked. Because he knows the names of every guy on the team and he’ll either be bunking with Tommy, who he hasn’t talked to since ninth grade, or Hargrove.
Fuck.
Sure enough, a moment later, Coach says Hargrove’s name then his, and a room number. They get off the bus in pairs and grab their bags, with a reminder that they’re expected to be back on the bus at 8am the next morning.
In the lobby, most of the guys on the team arrange to meet at the diner across the road once they’ve dumped their bags in their rooms. Ignoring the noise, Steve gets the key from the front desk and heads down to room 7.
He gets into the room and stops in his tracks when he sees the bed. As in, singular.
One bed.
It’s a big bed, but it’s only one bed.
Fuck.
With a sigh, Steve drops his bag at his feet and he’s about to turn around to go back to the desk to demand a different room when he hears footsteps behind him. Clearly his day can get worse.
“Hey, Harrington,” Hargrove says as he enters the room, “what are you doing standing here in the dark?” He flicks the lights on and drops his bag on the desk to the side.
Steve watches as he takes in the large bed taking most of the space. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“It’s okay.” Hargrove shrugs then unzips his bag and starts looking through it for something.
Steve turns his head to look at him. “It’s okay? Nothing about this is okay.”
“Oh my god, dude. Don’t freak out because we need to share a bed. Jesus. We can put some pillows down the middle of the mattress if you’re that stressed about it.”
“I’m not stressed about it!” Steve is quick to say, earning himself a look of disbelief from Hargrove.
“Whatever. You going to the diner with the rest of the team?” Hargrove asks as he heads to the ensuite, holding some clothes and his toiletry bag.
“No, I… I’m not hungry.”
“Suit yourself.” The door shuts with a soft click and Steve closes his eyes. He needs to talk to Robin but he knows she is out on a date with some girl she met at work.
Once Hargrove has left the room to get dinner, Steve eats a protein bar he found in his bag then gets ready for bed.
He slips between the covers, ready to leave this day behind. He makes a point to not pile pillows between the two sides of the bed. No need to give Hargrove more ammunition.
***
Billy sighs and checks his watch again. He’s been staring at the ceiling for two hours and is no closer to falling asleep than he was when he got back to the room. Less, even. Because he was sleepy after dinner and not in a mood to get drunk with his teammates, on beer purchased for them by Carver’s boyfriend, the only one old enough to legally buy alcohol.
Billy was surprised to see no pillows separating the two sides of the bed when he walked in. Even more surprised to find Steve fast asleep.
He gives up and sits up, hazarding a glance at Steve. He’s lying on his side, the light coming from the crack in the curtains giving a golden shine to his hair. He looks peaceful and soft and Billy would love nothing more than to cuddle up to him and feel his arms around his back.
He runs through his conversation with Robin for the four hundredth time since it happened three days ago. He was surprised to see her in three of his classes but glad they got paired up for the Creative Writing assignment. From the interaction he had with her at the Dolphin last week, she seemed quick and witty and that hunch had proved right. She’d also clocked him as queer faster than anyone beside Heather ever had and her coming out to him had reassured him immensely.
He isn’t a hundred percent on board with her assessment of Steve’s feelings towards him though. That seems a bit hard to swallow considering the past three months, but she is Steve’s best friend, so Billy figures she might know what she’s talking about.
He’s about to turn the side lamp on and grab his book since he can’t fucking sleep when Steve lets out a whimper. Frozen on the spot, Billy listens, in case Steve is having some kind of nightmare he’ll need to wake him up from (Robin mentioned something about that).
But then the guy starts moaning, a low raspy sound, that causes Billy’s ears to heat up as his sweatpants get a bit tight in the crotch. Billy hears the rustling of the bedding, and Steve doing some kind of squirming that has Billy immediately on edge.
It only gets worse when Steve starts muttering. It’s not really words at first, and Billy rolls over so he’s closer, and can hear properly. He regrets it a minute later.
“P-please… Don’t stop, please,” Steve mutters and Billy bites his fist to stop from making a sound.
This is not happening…
Billy can’t believe he has to lie there silently while Steve is having a fucking sex dream. He moves away and sits on the edge of the bed, his back to Steve, hands balled into fists at his sides, willing his dick to go down because this is beyond pathetic. Yes, he has a crush on the guy, but getting off to his sex dream feels one step too far.
Yet, Steve keeps making goddamn sex noises, and apparently willing whoever he’s dreaming about to keep doing whatever they’re doing to him in his mind and Billy is two seconds away from having a cold shower at three in the morning when suddenly he hears his name.
“Billy… Billy, please…”
Oh fuck.
His fingers dig into his thighs with the effort it takes to not touch his dick and get some relief. He can’t breathe, there is no air in the room, only Steve’s moans and whimpers and his desperate pleas.
And Billy knows it doesn’t mean anything, okay? He knows that Steve can’t stand the sight of him, no matter what Robin said the other night. And there’s nothing he can do about it. Maybe he’s just bad at flirting with a guy he actually cares about. Maybe there’s just something about him that Steve just can’t stand and it’s not his fault. But that doesn’t stop his brain from sending images of what he could be doing to Steve with his fingers and his mouth and, fuck, he really needs to stop thinking about that or he’s gonna blow his load in his pants like a fucking twelve year old.
He doesn’t remember ever being so hard as he is in that moment, when Steve’s breath quickens and he keeps saying Billy’s name over and over and over.
Billy needs to do something, either pretend to sleep or lock himself in the bathroom, because there is no way Steve will react favorably once he’s awake. He’ll either pretend it didn’t happen or be angry at Billy for no reason, as usual.
Unable to listen any longer, he races to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and flicking the lock before he turns the shower on to cover any noise he’s about to make. Leaning against the counter with one hand, he reaches inside his pants and wraps his fingers around his cock, hissing at the contact.
He is barely aware of the movements of his hand, his mind still in the room, in that bed, imagining a hand that’s not his touching him instead. He knows he won’t last long because he’s too keyed up from listening to Steve. He squeezes the head of his cock, and groans at the feeling, his knuckles turning white on the counter.
Billy closes his eyes, pretending Steve is there with him. He can almost feel Steve’s lips on his neck, Steve’s body against his as he jerks him off… The visual is so clear, so much what he craves, and he’s so close now, he can almost taste his orgasm.
“Billy?”
Steve’s voice reaches him through the door and wraps around him and he comes with a grunt he can’t silence, making a mess in his underwear. Panting and trying to catch his breath before his legs give out, he washes his hands and wishes he’d have taken the time to get undressed and step into the shower.
Steve is knocking on the door now. “Are you done? Dude, I need to use the bathroom.”
“Gimme a minute!” Billy’s voice sounds wrecked even to his own ears and with the shower going. He shuts the water off and unlocks the door, steeling himself to face Steve before he opens the door.
Steve’s hair is a mess and Billy forces his eyes to a spot to the side of Steve’s shoulder as he pushes past him and into the room.
“Billy?” Steve’s voice stops him in his tracks and he turns around slowly, taking in Steve who’s standing in the doorway, illuminated from behind by the light in the bathroom. Billy doesn’t remember Steve using his actual name before tonight, he’s always called him Hargrove.
“Yeah?” Billy asks softly. He’s still feeling wired from the whole thing and doesn’t have it in him to maintain the usual bravado in front of Steve. He is not sure what to think when Steve steps closer until he’s standing a foot away. Billy makes sure to keep his eyes up, his gaze following the trail of beauty spots on Steve’s shoulder and up his neck.
He is not so out of it that he doesn’t notice Steve’s eyes tracking down then back up, snagging somewhere on Billy’s naked chest then his mouth before Steve locks eyes with him. The warm spot in Billy’s gut starts boiling.
“Um, Robin said… um Robin has this theory, and… and I think she might be right.”
Billy sighs. He just wants to clean up and get into bed but Steve has never looked at him that way before so his curiosity gets the better of him. “What theory?”
“About me and how I’m not actually, you know… straight.”
“Okay…” Bill isn’t sure what to say. He’s not exactly surprised, in light of the dream Steve was having not that long ago.
“She said something else too.”
“Oh?”
Steve moves forward and he’s so close now that Billy can feel the heat from his body. He doesn’t know where to look or what to think. He takes a deep breath to calm down, and realizes his mistake when all he can smell is Steve and it’s overwhelming.
“You don’t hate me, do you?” Steve asks, his tone sounding more assured now. “You know, Robin reckons you have a crush on me.”
Billy chokes back a moan and bites his lip. Steve’s eyes immediately zero in on that and Billy shudders.
“What are you doing, pretty boy?” Billy whispers, his heart in his throat.
“What feels right,” Steve whispers back, his face so close he’s all Billy can see. “Stop me if you don’t wa—”
Billy breaches the gap and slants his lips onto Steve’s, groaning when Steve tangles both of his in Billy’s curls to pull him closer. Steve’s lips are softer than Billy imagined and he grabs Steve by the waist, using Steve’s needy moan to slide his tongue in Steve’s mouth.
The kiss goes on, hands grabbing and pulling, as they stumble backwards towards the bathroom, bodies pressed close from shoulder to toe.
“Fuck meeee…” Billy whispers when they break to breathe, blinking to adjust to the light. He feels like he’s seen God and can’t get enough of Steve’s tongue in his mouth.
“Maybe later,” Steve replies with a grin, and Billy digs his fingers into Steve’s hips at the thought.
“Steve…”
“You know,” Steve starts, moving away to turn the shower on, his eyes never leaving Billy’s even when he takes his shirt off and drops it on the floor, “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you say my name.”
“Yeah?” Billy stares as Steve walks back to where he’s standing by the countertop, his eyes straying to Steve’s waistband hanging low on his hips before moving back up.
“Yeah…” Steve stops in front of him. “I wonder how loud I can make you say it…”
Billy gasps then loses the ability to make words when Steve drops his pants. Then Steve hooks his fingers in the waistband of Billy’s sweatpants, a question in the tilt of his head. Billy nods in agreement, and Steve slides his hands around then down, over the curve of his ass, fingers splayed, before he pulls Billy’s pants and underwear down.
“Wanna shower with me?” Steve asks and that shakes Billy out of his trance.
He steps out of his clothes and slides his hands around Steve’s waist, pulling him up, and laughs happily when Steve curses even as he wraps his arms and legs around him.
“Baby, I wanna do everything with you.”
He steps under the warm spray with his precious cargo, pressing him into the wall and finding his mouth again.
*****
Please look forward to the lovely/wonderful/amazing work from the next contributor, @harringrovest.
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"and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for."
- you are jeff, richard siken
The back of the Winnebago is so quiet. It is so so quiet.
Four rowdy children under the same roof and not a single one of them says a word now. No jokes, no laughter, no bickering. The only sound amongst them all is their shaky inhales and measured exhales as they all marinate in this— this.
The plan that has to work, the uncertainty of what lies ahead. The heavy truth that this may very well be the last time some of them see each other.
Even Robin and her near constant stream of consciousness rambling is silent beside him. The only way he knows she's actually there is when they sail over a pothole and her shoulder bumps into his.
It's fucking eerie.
The silent knell of a death march — or ride. Whatever.
It makes Eddie's stomach turn.
Eddie is nervous. He's terrified, actually. This is bigger than anything he's ever dealt with in his life before, and he doesn't know how he's made it this far, he really doesn't.
But even more, he doesn't know how everyone else around him is so... calm. Sure, they've all done this before, it's far from their first time, but jesus fucking christ, have they really gotten used to fighting interdimensional monsters that threaten to destroy the world? Does that not scare the absolute bejesus out of them? He doesn't understand how no one else is losing their head about it. How an eleven year old is facing fucking doomsday like its nothing while he quakes in his god damn boots over here.
Eddie tightens his grip on his makeshift spear, knuckles going white. Clenches his jaw so hard he's scared he'll crack a tooth.
He tries not to think about how a cracked tooth is the least of his worries right now. How that actually doesn't even sound all that bad compared to the cracked limbs and cracked jaw and fucking vaporized eyeballs that loom in their futures. In Max's future.
Jesus christ, she's so young. Chrissy was so young. Eddie is so young.
His chest feels tight all of the sudden, his brain fuzzy and unfocused. His vision starts to go a little spotty and he can't breathe, he can't fucking breathe.
He can't fucking lose it, though, he can't. Not here, not now. Not in front of everybody else who's fucking cool as a god damn cucumber.
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, tries to slow back down. Digs his nails into his palm until the pain of it grounds him. Brings him back.
The fist around his lungs loosens, just enough, as Eddie walks through the breathing exercises Wheeler taught him when he'd nearly lost his marbles last time.
He hasn't even noticed that the Winnebago has stopped moving. Doesn't see that it's all but emptied out. He's the only one left.
Until Steve god damn Harrington slides into the empty space beside him, close enough to touch, and says, "Hey."
Eddie startles, whole body spasming and flinching back until Steve holds up a hand like Eddie's some spooked wild horse and he's trying to ease him back down.
His heart rate slows, but he's still trembling.
Steve reaches out, and his hand curls around Eddie's wrist, thumb coming to rest just over his pulse point. His hand looks rough, still scraped to hell, covered in dirt and blood and dried bat sludge, but his touch is soft. Gentle.
Despite that, it's still solid. Grounding in a way that Eddie needs.
Eddie looks over, because how could he not, and Steve's... he's already looking back. His eyebrows are drawn together in concern, his mouth pursed, like he wants to say more, but chooses not to.
He looks so... he looks so.
And Eddie feels this, this thing expanding in his chest, looking into those glossy eyes, and it's— it almost feels like, like hope or something equally as ridiculous.
It makes him want to laugh, because who the hell could hope in a time like this?
This situation? It's fucking dire. And their plan? It's built on assumptions and fucking faith.
Someone isn't going to make it. That's just how these things work. Eddie's run enough campaigns with storylines just like this one to know the bitter truth of it. There are too many of them, too many moving parts, too many unpredictables. The odds are just not fucking on their side.
(And he has this terrible, horrible feeling, this rock solid pit, in the bottom of his gut, that it's going to be him.
He's the least experienced here, after all, and he's the most likely to freeze in the face of danger.
If someone's going to die today, it's going to be him.)
It's a fact that Eddie has resigned himself to. He's— he hasn't accepted it, per se, but he's acknowledged it. Has started to let it set into his bones.
It doesn't feel real. But it doesn't not feel real either.
He doesn't know what to feel anymore, really.
But Steve, with his big eyes, and his sturdy hands, and his reassuring touch — he feels a lot like hope, like something better than hope.
Something that Eddie can't quite put his finger on, but it seizes his chest in a whole new way.
Eddie wants to chase that feeling.
Wants to let himself believe.
(He knows he shouldn't.)
(Lying in the dirt and a pool of his own blood four hours later, he's glad he didn't.)
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what pets i think fit with the batfam
these are kinda out of order but what evs
tell me what other characters u want (doesnt have to be bat-adjacent)
Dick Grayson
German shepherd maybe a huskey mix too
I know he has Hailey in canon but canon is of my choosing
I feel like his prestict was training dogs and one of them failed the training but hes already bonded with it so he takes it home with him and now he has a dog
he names it after somthing in the cirus
also named nightbite and the dog is considered a vigilante but only comes out to calm down children
Jason Todd
orange tabby
whenever someone meets the cat for the 1st time he spends 15 mins trying to convince them the cat is actually red
named elizabeth, and he forces you to call the cat elizabeth, no lizzie or any other nickname only elizabeth
he found her wandering around crime alley with out a collar and scooped her up and took her home
they become inseparable except when jason is doing vigilante stuff them the cat sleeps in his bed
shes tiny from malnourishment ect. from being on the street
he nourishes her back to health but she never gets to full size
Tim Drake
toad
he wanted a bullfrog before realizing how annoying they are and ended up getting an american toad
he named it either tim jr. or frog
he puts it in a mason jar (no top ofc) with some water and brings it everywhere (non vigilante)
the toad works comms and he tries to get everyone to call it red toad (failure)
he wears gloves when handling it and is very careful not to get salmonella (all reptiles and amphibians are loaded with it)
Duke Thomas
im giving him 2 types of pets
first he has a fish tank with those floresent neon fish
he has the full set up with the black lights and everything
1 fish of each color named color fishie (blue fishie, yellow fishie, ect.)
he also gets a rabbit
specifically a Miniature Cashmere Lop
he names it judy (zootopia reference lol)
he took her on patrol with him one in one of those baby carries that straps to your chest but he bent down and judy hopped out and he spent half an hour chasing her around
she lives on his bedroom floor, he has everything she needs lined along a wall and she just kinda chills all day
Cass Cain
SNAKE
she gets a common brown snake
they are non venomous, typically very docile, and the longest they can get is 13 inches long
she did tons of research on snakes and makes sure it living its best live
names it after her favorite fruit
she keeps trying to feed duke’s fish to it
brown snakes are fairly small so she will curl it around her fingers on one hand and do her homework with the other
Carrie Kelley
Yes shes part of the family
a hedgehog
she keeps it in her pocket
his name is sonic
she made him a blue mask and paints some of the quills blue and takes him on patrol (he mostly stays in her pocket)
one notable occasion she shot him with her sligshot into a thug’s face
sonic was ok the thug however was not
sonic lives in carrie’s pocket
Alfred Pennyworth
mini horse
he named it named fredrick
it stays out in the barn with batcow
he goes out on walks around the manor grounds and the horse will follow him around
helps out around the batcave and works coms with frog
Damian Wayne
i know he already has a ton of pets go away
caribbean reef octopus
i saw a video of one of these guys escaping its tank and immediately thought of damian
either gives it an arab name or names it richard
has an amazing tank setup for it with lots of enrichment
sometimes he takes it out on walks around the manor and damian will carry a little spray bottle to ensure he doesnt dry out
HE GETS 2 ASWELL CAUSE I JUST REMEBERED SMTH
a bearded dragon
he wanted a komodo dragon but they are massive (and venomous) so he compromised on a bearded dragon
he gives her either an arab name or names her timothy
ITS A DRAGON HED BE SO HAPPY!!!!
just like the octopus he takes really good care of her
she has a bunch of differnt outfits and leashes and he takes her on walks all the time
Stephanie Brown
Indian star tortoise
she saw a tortoise mukbang video and decided she needed one (go to animal asmr on youtube)
she named her ravioli
tried to get her a job in the bat med bay but alfred refused to let “ground zero for a salmonella outbreak” into the med bay
she has a massive box with multiple sets of lights despite how tiny she is (hes a baby now and about 2.5 in but adults get to 7-12 in)
as a baby she rides around on steph’s shoulder
once she gets bigger steph puts her in a leash
Bruce Wayne
way too many bats to count
each person has a bat named after them and a bat they have named
the rest are named bat bat
the bats are not allowed outside of the batcave
he also has ace (bat hound) who, from my best guess, is a Doberman
he also gets a fox moth
he raises it from a caterpillar and he loves it (he picks it up off the sidewalk and decides to keep it)
he names it bug
only pet not allowed to go into the batcave
it mostly stays on his head or shoulder when not asleep (even as a full grown moth)
sleeps in a net like cage thing hanging in his room
he cried really hard when it pupated only for a moth to come out a few weeks later
Jarro
why is the starfish here?
because
anyway in Flash 238-243 in the 70’s hal has a pet alien starfish thing named itty
jarro gets his own itty and yeah
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The Type You Save -
F I F T E E N
James "Bucky" Barnes and OFC Alexandra "Alex" Richards
Detective James Barnes hasn't seen the love of his life in three years. Since the night she was almost caught stealing a painting. He knows it was her and she disappeared leaving him confused and heart broken.
Alexandra Richards never expected to be pulled back into her old life two years after she left it. She had found love and a home and was happy. Until a note blackmailed her to take one last job. Three years later she walked into the last person she expected to see in San Francisco. Because he lived in New York right?
They always put family before everything. And he would do anything to get his family back. Because she's the type you save.
TW: mob, death, smut, rape intentions, angst, guns, family abandonment, dub-con, manipulation
A/N: We are nearing the end!
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated
Divider by @firefly-graphics
Previous: F O U R T E E N
Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist
Christian Grey has always appreciated the finer things in life. Luxurious home, top of the range car, Cristal, 25-year-old scotch, the works. A man of his status and wealth should have a standard. Including the right woman.
Alexandra Richards was that woman.
He stared at the woman next to him as Nate drove, Walker beside him. He watched as she wiped an errant tear that fell to her cheek. She kept her face to the window, studying the country side as they drove. She didn’t bother asking where they were going, they would never tell her.
“Pet, would you like some water?”
“No, thank you.”
“Alexandra, you need to eat or drink something.”
“Not if I want to die, Mr. Grey.” Her tone remained even, never looking away from the window.
Grey grounded his teeth, wanting to force her to drink. But he waited, allowing her emotions. She was different than his pet from before. She was strong, independent before. Now she was despondent, fragile. A mother. She was in mourning for the loss of her son. He would try and change that soon but for now, he needed to break her and change her back to the woman she was.
His Alexandra.
James watched from the doorway of his sleeping son’s room, observing his little body as it curled around his teddy bear. He knew the sleep was from exhaustion, having to have explained to his son that his mother wasn’t going to be here for a while. He was a momma’s boy through and through. He closed the door softly and back into the empty apartment.
Steve was still tracking Alex. He almost laughed to himself again. He went to their bedroom and to his side table. He lifted the necklace from its place. The duplicate he had switched in Alex’s jewelry box was damn near perfect. Either she had noticed and didn’t say anything or she was losing her touch. Either way, the switch had allowed a tiny tracker to be embedded with her. That’s why Steve was on the hunt.
After searching for Zemo at his home and secondary office, it was painfully clear that he had been the mole for some time now. It was too coincidental that Walker had found Alex so quickly. The APB was out for everyone. All he could do now was wait. His phone went off.
Stark: He’s still tracking. They’ve almost made it to Tahoe
Barnes: ok
Stark: We’ll find her
Barnes: I know. Just bring my son’s mother home to him.
Barnes: Bring her back to me
James laid down and clutched her pillow. It still smelled like her. Of strawberries and roses, of her. Finally, twelve hours after she disappeared, he cried.
Alex jolted awake as the car slowed to a stop. She looked around in the darkness, unsure of where she was. She could make out the outline of trees in the moonlight but after that, she had no clue. Until she turned to see a house. It was out of a movie. Stark white, wrap around porch with large windows. Nate and Walker were already out of the car and walking up while Grey was studying her as she took in the home. “What do you think?”
“It’s a beautiful home.” She wouldn’t lie.
“Good.” Grey gave her a smile. “I built it for you.”
“For me?”
“You had a house, similar to this, in that notebook you used to have. Your journal. I found it after you left and wanted to have something ready for you when you came back.”
“I didn’t come back. You kidnapped me.”
“You left voluntarily.”
“To save my husband and son.”
“Your husband?” Grey sneered. “Your husband is nothing compared to me.”
“My husband is a thousand times the man you will ever be.”
Grey reached and grabbed her by the hair, and she squealed in pain. “Listen to me Alexandra. You are mine now. You made your choice.” He pulled a little harder and she whimpered. “I do miss that sound pet.”
“Please, stop.”
“No.” He opened the car door and dragged her out. She screamed and thrashed but Grey gripped her arm. “This is your home now Alex. Let’s get you acquainted.” He pulled her up the steps. She had no time to take in the interior as Grey marched her up to the master bedroom. “I have clothes and toiletries in the bathroom. There is nothing sharp or poisonous in here so don’t try. I’ll be back.”
Grey slammed the door closed and she heard a click as she was now locked in the room. She sank to the floor and cried.
Being a MIT graduate should have been something that Grey had factored into his grand scheme. There is always something sharp or poisonous in everything. After crying, Alex got to work, taking the plastic toothbrush and using the counter to sharpen it. She just had to get past the door, and she could fight her way out. She hoped Nate would help her at some point, but she couldn’t count on that.
Keeping her crude tool close, Alex decided to inspect the rest of the room. The windows were locked, meaning the only way was to break them, attracting unwanted attention. Clothing in her size were in the drawers, no strings on any of them. Slip on shoes negated laces. Bastard really did think of almost everything. She heard footsteps coming and she hid the toothbrush under the pillow. She sat against the headboard, as far away as possible. The door opened revealing Nate. Alex let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Hey Nate.”
“Hey Allie Cat.”
“That’s a new one.”
“Had time to think about it.” He went to sit on the edge of the bed, but still blocking the door. “I told you to run.”
“And I told you that I couldn’t abandon my family again.”
“Were you always this stubborn?”
She shrugged. “Probably. But we were usually on the same team.” She studied Nate. He looked tired, worn. “What is the plan for me Nate?”
“The plan? The plan. Shit Alex, you should know the Boss by now. He’s gonna want his pet back by his side.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“He’s gonna try and break you Alex if you don’t do it willingly. This is why I told you to run. But no, the great Cat Burglar had to do things her own way.” Nate started to pace. “Fuck Alex, I tried to protect you. I found you three times before he sent Walker. And he only sent Walker when that fucker Zemo ratted you out.”
“Zemo? Zemo is yours?”
“Not mine Alex. His.” He cupped her face. “I’m sorry. I’m only up here because Grey asked me to try to convince you. Just give in. Save yourself. If only so that you save your son, your husband from any more pain. Please Alex.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I love my husband and my family. I need my family Nate. I need them just as much as I need you. Please help me.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I wish I could.” He stepped back. “I’ll do what I can for you. But unless by some miracle you are found, you are his.” He turned and left the room, locking it as he went.
It was deathly quiet now. And a sob was ripped from room as Alex began to wail.
Nate walked back downstairs, trying to ignore the sobs that were now being ripped from her chest. His best friend. Well former best friend after his act of betrayal. He made it to the living room and walked past Walker and Grey. He reached the bar cart and poured himself a drink. He needed to feel numb now.
“What did she say?” Grey asked, looking up from the papers he was studying.
“That she wants to go home to her family.”
Walker let out a sadistic laugh. “Kitty lost her claws. What a little pussy.”
Grey glared at Walker until the man’s face fell. He snorted. “That’s a shame.” He looked up at the stairs. “Let her cry it out tonight. We start tomorrow.”
“Start with what?” Nate looked at his boss.
“Breaking her.”
Steve could hear snippets of the conversation happening in the home. He peaked in to see the three men sitting and talking before the one with the drink threw it back and slammed it down, exiting the room. Steve picked up his phone.
Rogers: found her
Stark: thank god. She ok?
Rogers: no idea. Security tight no clean entry or exit
Stark: fuck. Ok. I’ll reach out to local
Rogers: roger that.
He looked around and saw the guy who left angrily now standing on the porch, hand on the railing, head bowed. The man shuddered like he was trying to keep his emotions in. “Fucking Alex, why doesn’t she listen?”
“She does that.” Nate swiveled to look at Steve. He went to reach for his weapon, but Steve drew first. “Whoa there, sunshine.” Nate slowly raised his hands. “I think you and I are after the same thing. To help Alex.”
Nate cocked his head. “You’re Steve.”
“You must be Nate. If I lower my weapon, we cool?”
“Yeah.”
Steve holstered his weapon. “Can they hear us in there?”
“No, but better safe than sorry. Garage in the back. Meet you there in five.” Nate went back inside.
Steve made is way around through the woods. He waited behind until Nate called for him. “How is she?”
“She’s scared and probably planning to do something stupid. She’s Alex.”
Steve huffed. “Yeah, typical. Look I have reinforcements coming but it will take until morning to get them here. I need to know how I can get in there and rescue her.”
Nate sighed. “You’ll help with my case?”
“For Alex, yeah I will.”
James was awakened by his phone a few hours later. He reached over, the bright screen hitting his eyes causing him to squint.
Stark: He found her
Barnes: She ok?
Stark: status undeterminable but I’ve sent locals to help
Barnes: give me the coordinates.
Stark: sent. I’m coming with. Be there in 10
James called Natasha. “We found her.”
Oh thank god.
“I need you to come stay with Drew.”
I’m on my way.
James got his gear together as well as some stuff for Alex. He crept into Drew’s room, his boy still sleeping peacefully. “I love you Chief,” he whispered. He slipped Alex’s necklace over his head. “You take care of this for me and Mommy, ok?” He kissed his head and walked out. Nat showed. “The documents you might need are in the safe in our closet. Combo is 03-10-19-17. We left some stuff for Drew when he’s older.”
“Bucky…”
“I’m gonna do everything I can to bring us home but just in case. Please take care of our boy.”
Nate hugged James hard. “Be safe.”
Stark knocked on the open door frame. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
The sun hadn’t risen yet when Alex was awakened by the door opening. She held still. “Pet?” Alex reached slowly under the pillow for her toothbrush and gripped it tight. When she sensed him close, she swung, the sharp point she created cutting the skin on his arm. “Fuck!”
Alex rose and swung her leg around, dropping him as he gripped his forearm to stop the bleeding. She ran to the door and down the stairs. She could see the front door but was grabbed around the middle. “Let me go!”
“I see Kitty did have her claws,” Walker said in her ear as he adjusted his grip. “And now I get to play with the Kitty.”
Alex paled as she was held in place by Walker as Christian walked down the stairs, a towel on his arm. “Let’s get her to the garage. I don’t want to make a mess in the house.” Walker pulled her out and marched her to the back of the property.
Steve and Nate were there in the shadows, waiting for the backup promised to Steve. It was getting close to dawn when Steve heard the cries of his best friend. He watched as Alex was dragged into the garage. “Shit. We have to get in there.” Steve and Nate both moved to pull their weapons.
A gun cocking behind them caused them to freeze. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Steve didn’t have time to turn before the butt of the gun hit his head and he was knocked out.
NEXT
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Giganterra (Chapter 1)
Prologue | Chapter 2
Content Warning: Soft, safe, unwilling vore
Word Count: 2.1k
------ Chapter 1: A Typical Royal Dinner ------
Six years later…
Crown Prince Ronny, the adult heir to the throne, sat down at his usual spot at the table, on the right-hand side of his father, the king. King Richard claimed his rightful place at the head of the table, and Princess Bianca, the youngest by about two years, sat across from her brother Ronny. The king’s personal guard Ajax, his shadow, stood discreetly off to the side behind his seat, ever watchful.
Ronny, dour as always, glared at his sister, who stuck her tongue out at him in response. He scoffed superciliously and removed his gloves for dinner, folding them neatly on the table. He was rescued from having to converse with his loathsome family members by the servants, who came in balancing plates loaded with vittles. Ronny sat in a gloomy silence as Chester, the royal food taster, checked each entrée for poison. He curled his lip with mild disgust when he was given his portion: prime rib, sautéed swiss chard, and scalloped potatoes, with a human dressed in a light sauce.
Bianca had a similar reaction, poking and prodding the tiny woman on her plate with her fork. The woman winced, but stayed silent and didn’t try to run, knowing the consequences of resisting giant royalty would be far more gruesome. “Daddy, when are we going to get more humans? It’s been a while since the last tribute.”
King Richard wiped his lips daintily with a napkin as he gleefully swallowed the human on his own plate. “Hmmm… it’s been a while, hasn’t it? We are certainly overdue for some fresh meat.”
The giantess princess perked up. “If so, can you order some little men this time? Pleeeeeease? Ladies are fine and all, but they’re all we ever get, and I want a handsome boy to play with…” She pouted, scraping her fork with an obnoxious screech on her dish. Her human repast covered her ears and grimaced. Ronny rolled his eyes.
The king gave his daughter a knowing smirk and chuckled lightly. “I’ll see what I can arrange, my darling.” He picked up his knife and cut into his meat, which leaked blood onto his plate.
Ronny shook his head and dug into his own meal, flicking the human carelessly off his slab of prime rib. He didn’t understand his father’s obsession with tiny maidens, or his sister’s fascination with miniature men. Why couldn’t she be normal for once and content herself with an attractive giant instead? Humans were fine for eating, when he was in the right mood, but otherwise Ronny found them to be gross vermin, clambering around with their wiry legs like bugs. Distracted by his thoughts, he failed to notice his tiny female side dish had crawled off the edge of his plate. He put a bite of meat in his mouth, and his face puckered with detestation.
“Ugh!” he groaned, spitting the offending meat back onto his dish without concern for decorum. “Nasty!” His face turned purple with rage. “Bring me the royal chef!” he bellowed. The servants scrambled to obey. Soon enough, the obese chef rushed into the dining room, huffing and puffing with the effort.
“Yes, Your Highness? How may I best serve you?” he asked nervously, wringing his hands and picking at his blond mustache. He was sweating profusely, his skin ruddy with exertion.
“Bucky!” Ronny roared. “This food isn’t fit to serve to a dog! The meat is cold in the middle and saltier than the sea! Dumping a mountain of salt on such a bland cut doesn’t improve the flavor, you cretin! I’m a prince, and I deserve only the best, not this offensive rubbish!”
His temper flared as he got worked up into a frenzy. He stood up out of his chair and gesticulated with his hands aggressively. “You’re a sorry excuse for a cook, you worthless piece of shit! Just look at these vegetables! Wilted strings reeking of too much garlic and swimming in watery juices! And these potatoes! Unpalatable texture, lumpy and uneven, tasteless paste! Unacceptable, reprehensible slop!”
He picked up the plate and hurled it against the wall with all his might, shattering the porcelain and staining the wall and expensive carpeting with juices. The servants hurried forward to clean up the mess in a hush. Nobody was especially surprised by his tantrum: The servants were accustomed to unhinged outbursts from the royal family. Ronny ignored them and continued to verbally berate the chef, who pointedly stared at his feet. Ronny shoved his finger into his fat chest as he ranted in his face, spitting and swearing. After several minutes of screaming at the top of his lungs and frothing at the mouth, Ronny finally cooled down, dismissing the silent chef with a contemptuous wave of his hand. His face changed from pink back to its usual pasty shade. He crossed his arms petulantly and slumped in his chair.
“Good job, Ronny,” King Richard praised, grinning wide. “Sometimes you need to put the commoners in their place and make them fear you.” He chomped down on a bite of meat, clearly enjoying his meal despite his son’s scathing condemnation of its quality. Ronny shrugged, still scowling. The servants, so inferior to the royals as to be invisible to them, cleaned up his mess in the background.
Bianca was unperturbed by Ronny venting his spleen, continuing to toy with the human on her plate as she ate the food around her. Eventually, she got bored and lifted the poor woman up by her leg, studying her wriggling with a cold inquisitiveness. She lowered the tiny woman headfirst into her mouth, licking her face and closing her plump lips around her torso before slurping her flailing legs inside with the rest of her body. She sucked on the delicious morsel for a while, shuffling her from one cheek to the other, before sending her off on a trip to her stomach with a hearty gulp.
She watched as the servants flitted anxiously back to the table, bringing with them a sumptuous feast of roasted partridge and yams for the picky prince. He sulked as the royal food taster sampled each portion and cleared the food for consumption. The servants backed away, sweating nervously as Ronny tasted the partridge. The bratty prince raised an eyebrow and grunted, but didn’t complain. The tension dissipated among the servants and they disappeared into the background again, relieved not to be on the receiving end of another explosive fit.
“Hey, Ronny, what happened to the human in your food?” Bianca queried.
Ronny shrugged as he continued to shovel food into his mouth. “Fuck if I know. She probably ended up as a red stain on the wall.”
King Richard frowned. “What a waste.” He gave Ronny a stern look. The aura in the room subtly changed, as if the air itself chilled. “Don’t squash your humans so carelessly, Ronny. They are valuable, and we can only extract so many without them revolting against us.”
Ronny stiffened. “Of course, Father,” he mumbled, casting his eyes downward. “I won’t do it again.” The king assumed a milder expression, accepting his words, and the mood lightened again. Ronny repressed a shudder.
“I never understood why you don’t just conquer the human kingdom, enslave the populace, and farm them,” Bianca remarked, tilting her head. “Wouldn’t that make more sense? Then you can have as many as you want.”
The king sighed and shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. Haven’t you noticed the humans that are here for a long time tend to lose their unique flavor and vitality? That’s because, if they’re not fed and cared for well, and they grow sad, they become frailer, weaker, and less appealing to the palate. That’s why over time we need fresh tributes, and why I usually dispose of them, when they are no longer of any use to us for our personal pleasure.”
He licked his lips as he finished the last bite of his dinner. “I prefer my humans to be free-range, so to speak, and of high quality. That standard of health isn’t possible if they were all forcibly imprisoned. Happy humans also multiply in greater numbers, which is even better for us. Let them have their silly little kingdom, go about their lives, and exist in blissful ‘freedom.’ As long as they give us our rightful share and don’t complain, I will be content.”
He inserted his fingers into his pocket and pulled out a small, trembling woman. “Of course, as you know, not all humans go stale! I still have my favorites, like my cute sweet little Millie, now don’t I?” He grinned roguishly and nuzzled her with his nose.
“Y-yes, of course, Your Majesty! I would never want to disappoint you!” the poor creature squeaked, out of fright rather than affection. Ronny looked away, repulsed by the display. He hated his father’s distasteful perversions and could hardly stand to watch. Bianca stared at him with jealousy, wishing she had a tiny man to kiss and pet and play with. King Richard always exclusively requested maidens as tribute, and she was fed up with his selfishness. She was used to always getting what she wanted, so the fact that she couldn’t have one irritated her to no end.
The servants cleared the dirty dishes off the table and brought slices of cheesecake for dessert. King Richard removed a small vial from his pocket full of a glowing blue potion and dripped a drop onto Millie’s head. Her face paled with dread as her body absorbed the substance, a magical anti-digestion fluid that would keep her unharmed inside his stomach. He pressed her into the soft dessert with his index finger up to her shoulders. She turned her head away from him, and Ronny spotted quiet tears glistening on her cheeks. The prince switched his attention to his own dessert and ate in silence, ignoring the display.
King Richard scooped up Millie with his fork and licked the sweet filling off her body, chuckling at her small whines of discomfort. He gently enveloped her in his mouth, humming with delight. After slopping his tongue all over her and sliding her against the inner walls of his teeth, he took another bite of cheesecake and rolled her around with it, sucking it all up with pleasure. He continued in this manner until he finished his entire slice before finally gulping down the small lady.
Ronny hastened to excuse himself from the table, grabbing up his gloves. As he lifted them, he noticed an abnormal weight inside, caused by a small, shivering lump. He flipped the glove and dumped its mystery contents out on the table, only to discover the food human that he thought he’d thrown across the room was hidden inside. She tumbled out and landed on the hard surface with a splattering of sauce.
Ronny glared at her, then at his fancy gloves, soiled inside with sauce. “Ugh! Look what you did, you filthy little rat! These gloves are ruined!” He flung the gloves away, his dark eyes flashing as his white-hot wrath returned with a vengeance. The woman’s eyes widened and she cowered before the giant man looming above her like a mountain. She had already narrowly escaped death when he smashed his dinner plate against the wall; she knew what he was capable of with his volatile temper.
The giant prince slammed his fist on the table next to her, startling her to her feet. Even standing up, she was shorter than his stacked fingers; he could easily crush her in his grasp like an insect. Her legs turned into useless rubber beneath her as she comprehended the futility of resisting and collapsed to the table. Ronny unclenched his fist and grabbed her up, raising her close to his face.
“Vile, foul worm,” he grumbled as she whimpered helplessly in his hand. “I’ll make you pay for that.” He knew humans hated to be eaten, so he shoved her into his mouth and swallowed her hard, sending her straight to the fleshy prison in his midsection. King Richard grinned with approval as he observed his son. Ronny stormed off in a huff, stomping on his gloves and kicking them to the side on his way out.
He clomped down one of the many stony corridors of the castle, fuming with irritation. He could feel the human fighting inside his gut as she was jostled about by his rapid steps. That idiotic human deserved her punishment. Those gloves were custom-made, based on the measurements of his hands, and now he’d have to order a new pair from the royal tailor. Such an inconvenience!
Chapter 2
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Okay I've talked about Stan's pet parrot named Whisper but now I wanna talk about Richie's ferret named Trash.
When the Losers were going to college and Richie dropped out (literally maybe a month after Bill did) Richie got lonely during the day. Bill was too busy with his writing to pay Richie any attention and we all know Richie needs it to survive.
So one day Richie went roaming out in town while all the Losers were in class and/or busy and he finds himself in a petstore.
There's this ratty looking creature in a cage all by himself and he's half off bc he's missing part of his ear. The creature is curled up in a sad ball and it slowly looks up at Richie as he approaches.
It was love at first sight.
Richie has never interacted with a ferret before, let alone know what they need for care, so yes it was a little bit reckless when he walked out of the store with the ferret and bag fulls of stuff he wasn't sure if he needed or not. (The store attendants were no help.)
Part of his purchase was fucking rabbit hay- that's how unsure he was about what a ferret needs, so he bought a bit of everything.
Naturally, Bill is the first one who meets the ferret when Richie brings him home.
"Stan and Eddie are going to muh-murder you."
*holds the ferret up Simba style* "But look at him! How could I leave him?!"
Bill chuckles when Richie tells him he's named the ferret Trash so he counts that as a win.
Like Bill said, Stan and Eddie lose their shit when they get home.
"That thing is not staying in my house Richard!"
"Do you know how many diseases it's probably carrying?!"
Look, Richie doesn't cry, he's never been one too, but while Stan and Eddie are scolding him, feeding off each other and oblivious to his hurting feelings, Richie starts to tear up. Mike cuts in and puts a stop to it, saying Richie can keep Trash if it makes him happy. Mike is the only Loser (besides Bev sometimes) that Stan and Eddie can't argue with.
Ben and Bill take Richie back out, to a better pet store, and actually buy the basics for Trash. Bev writes out a list for them after some quick little research. Then they all get the treat of watching Ben build the ferret cage, they like to watch his hands work.
Stan and Eddie still hate the ferret. They don't want to play with it, they're always harping on the smell, and overall they're just bitter bc Mike allowed Richie to keep it.
But they keep hearing all the rest of the Losers laughing in Richie's room from them watching Richie and Trash's antics. Bill tells them one day that he swears Trash is just Richie in animal form. Bev starts sewing little outfits for Trash and Ben builds Trash an elaborate tunnel system as one his class projects.
Eddie cracks first. He does his own research and finds out that ferrets don't carry diseases that can harm humans but actually they can catch colds from humans. When Richie gets the sniffles he tells him that maybe Trash should room with Bev or Bill until he's over his cold so that Trash doesn't catch it- 'but he totally doesn't care about the ferret'.
He keeps finding out all these fun facts about ferrets through his research and one day...he sneaks into Richie's room to finally meet the thing. Trash pounces on his feet the moment he's in the door and Eddie freaks out but then Trash backs up, doing his little ferret dance and okay Eddie falls in love with his little chirps. That's what does him in.
Richie is very smug when he comes home and sees that Eddie is still playing with Trash.
Stan takes a little bit longer. He's not mad about the ferret anymore, it's more of a principal thing. He's a stubborn bitch when he wants to be. He's perfectly okay ignoring that there's a ferret in Richie's bedroom.
Until he's home alone one day, a rare day off, and he's watching tv on the couch and slowly he ends up falling asleep. When he wakes up, there's a ferret sized lump in his lap.
Richie accidentally left his door cracked open.
He doesn't want to move the thing because he doesn't know how it'll react to being woken up. So he's kinda stuck there and eventually, hesitantly, he decides to try petting it. Trash snuggles closer in his lap.
Bev comes home and finds the pair, quickly taking a photo before he can stop her. He's fussing about it but when Bev tells him that Trash never snuggles with anyone he shuts up.
Stanley Uris loves feeling special and the fact that Trash will only cuddle with him wins him over- he's not happy about it. Yes he is.
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Castle Ficlet: Troublemakers (Lightning Flashes) 1/1
Troublemakers
(A Lightning Flashes ficlet)
"Well, aren't the two of you just adorable?"
Normally, she would blush and tug herself away from Rick at the tease, but she doesn't this time. There's no reason to hide anymore, not from Martha, not even from herself.
They're new to this, at least in some ways. In others, though, it's like they've been doing this forever.
"Mother," Rick whines. There's no bite behind it, though. Just good natured childish embarrassment. And Rick can always use a little bit of embarrassment. It keeps him honest, humble even.
"What?" Martha scoffs. "I'm simply saying that the two of you are delightful as a couple and I am so glad you finally got your heads out of your a-"
"Hey, hey, hey," Rick says quickly, glancing down at the baby sprawled across their laps. Alexis is finally settling down, which means her eagle ears are definitely listening to everything they're saying. The last thing they need is for her to parrot what she hears.
Though, Kate muses, it would be nice to be able to blame someone other than herself for Alexis learning a new curse word. The last one had been a little bit mortifying - less so because of the word itself and more because of when the kid had decided to demonstrate her new favorite four letters; Kate's fairly sure they'll be allowed back in the restaurant, but she's going to wait a little longer to be sure.
Martha holds up her hands. "Oh, relax, Richard. I'm not going to corrupt your one year old. Especially not by giving you and Katherine a compliment."
Kate snickers at that, pressing her cheek to her fiance's shoulder. It is still hard to believe that they made it here, after so many years, so much hiding from each other, all the back and forth. It's nice, though. So nice.
And the getting married part isn't so bad, either.
"Thank you, Martha," she says, brushing a hand over Alexis's back. They need to put her to bed soon, but they're all so comfortable the way they are. "We appreciate that, even if Rick is bad at admitting it."
Her fiance feigns offense.
"Then say thank you, Ricky, and we can enjoy the rest of our evening in peace." She makes a show of rolling her eyes, winking at Martha playfully.
Rick's mother grins, lifting her glass in response.
"Traitor."
Kate laughs, careful not to startle Alexis. The girl squirms, rolling closer to her belly and sighing.
"I'm sorry, honey," she murmurs. "Daddy's causing trouble again."
Rick scoffs, ducking his head to kiss Alexis's hair. "Yeah, because your mommy is so much better," he says, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "She's never caused a bit of trouble in her life."
Her heart stutters in her chest. It's not the first time the name - title? Honorific? - has been directed toward her, but somehow it feels different than when it's said in the middle of the night or when it comes from Alexis's lips. It's never been said in front of others, not even at Alexis's birthday, when the girl had been happily babbling away about anything under the sun.
Sucking in a deep breath, Kate swallows hard. She reaches out for her drink, curling her fingers around the curve of her wine glass and bringing the rim to her lips.
"Nope," she says a moment later, allowing the air to escape her lungs. "Mommy's never done a thing wrong ever. She doesn't know a thing about making trouble."
She shifts, pulling Alexis closer.
"You won't either, will you, Alexis?"
The baby snuggles closer. She's oblivious to the conversation around her, to the warmth she's providing.
"Yeah," Kate exhales, bringing Alexis's fingers to her lips. "S'what I thought."
"With the two of you for parents? I will believe that when I see it," Martha chuckles, taking another sip of her wine.
Kate grins, cuddling Alexis and sinking deeper into Rick's arms. Let them be adorable troublemakers tonight; they've earned it.
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Merciless Beauty
Chapter 9: Heal the Injury
❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader
❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU
❧ Pronouns: she/her
❧ Warnings: angst, violence, blood, gore, injury, some scenes may be triggering for those who are sensitive to sexual assault/abuse, so tread carefully!
❧ Word Count: 6.9k
❧ Before You Read...
❧ Glossary
❧ In this Chapter: In Alexandria, the man who calls himself Jesus offers his help in an effort to defeat Negan and the Saviors. Meanwhile, at the Sanctuary, you appease Negan's desires in the hopes of killing him when he is most vulnerable, but when an attempt backfires, you learn the true meaning of despair.
❧ A/N: Another rough chapter. Well, the bad stuff is bookended by some good stuff. But yeah, definitely pay attention to the warnings again for this chapter. Sorry, but I have to make Negan terrible ok? And again, Negan is ramped up to be worse than he is in the show (but tbh he is still ruthless in the show so he is really not even that much worse). I don't want to spoil it tho, so I will just stop talking. Enjoy!
In the once pristine great hall, where now the floor was littered with the bodies of dead walkers that had yet to be cleared, King Ezekiel sat upon his throne, his leg anxiously shaking as he and what was left of his court awaited for the guards to bring in the guest.
Jesus, he called himself. The irony was not lost on Daryl, who began to wonder if perhaps this man who called himself Jesus was the real messiah, whose arrival on Earth was foretold in the Book of Revelation. At this point, such an arrival would be welcomed with open arms. If Jesus had truly come back, bringing with him Heaven’s army to fight the forces of evil that plagued this land, including the man who took his princess from him, then Daryl would not send him away.
But, alas, there was no sound of trumpets, no seven seals, no parting of the clouds to allow His descension upon the Earth. This Jesus had to have been a mortal man, and if there was anything Daryl knew of mortal men, it was that they were not to be trusted. Especially not at a time like this.
When the man was brought in, hands tied behind his back as he was led forth through the great hall by two armed guards on either side of him, it was not immediately obvious that the man wasn’t the son of God.
After all, he looked the part: long hair of umber hue that touched a little past his shoulders, and a stately beard to match. Standing not far from the king’s throne, Daryl took note that the man was well kept, with vestments made from the finest imported threads, colored with rich dyes. He was half-armored, wearing a fitted gambeson with plate pauldrons strapped to his shoulders, under which was draped a long cloak of vibrant tyrian purple.
What was most striking about him, though, were his eyes―deep-set, intense pools of azure that seemed to oscillate between stern and friendly, though always calm, cool, and collected. In fact, he did not seem rattled by the guards’ rough handling at all, nor by the way one of the guards forced him to kneel before the king. The man simply held the king’s gaze, his lips curling ever so slightly into an earnest smile.
He began to speak, his voice not fearful nor threatening. “Your majesty, it’s an honor to―”
“You will speak only when you are spoken to,” replied the king, his voice much harsher than Daryl had heard it before, except when he spoke to Negan. “State your business, Jesus.”
The man straightened his back and cleared his throat. “Well, seeing as your situation is dire, I will cut to the chase. I’ve brought my people here because you are in need of our help.”
The king narrowed his eyes. “And what help do you have to offer?”
“Fighters, for a start,” replied the man. “Capable fighters. Over a hundred of them. Combined with your forces, enough to stand a chance against a common enemy―the Saviors.”
This intrigued the court, Sir Daryl notwithstanding.
He exchanged a curious look with Richard, who seemed skeptical, but equally interested in whatever else the man called Jesus had to say.
“Go on,” said the king.
Jesus’ smile upturned just a little more, as though he was hoping the king would say those exact two words.
“I am the ruler of a small principality called the Hilltop. It is likely that you have never heard of it, as we are located far from your kingdom. We, too, were ravaged by Negan and the Saviors. They took everything from us, including countless lives. That was over a year ago now, and we’ve grown since, building up our arsenal and training our people for battle. The Saviors neglected to kill all of us, and we’ve been hiding in the shadows ever since, living as nomads, and waiting for the opportunity to attack.”
A chattering emerged in the hall, members of court whispering amongst themselves before the king stomped his foot with several thuds that echoed through the high ceilings. “Silence!” he ordered. Turning back to Jesus, he spoke again, still suspicious of the man’s intentions “And why have you decided to come to our aid now, the precise point at which my kingdom is severely weakened?”
Jesus’ gaze dropped for a moment, as melancholy overtook his once confident features. “I am truly sorry, your majesty, but we set out a fortnight ago, traveling in caravans once we had heard word that the Saviors were beginning their assault on your kingdom. It was only when we arrived this morning that we realized that we were too late… But we are here now, ready to fight for you, for all those whose lives have been torn apart by Negan and his cronies.”
It all seemed too good to be true. Could this be a trap, some cruel joke of Negan’s own sick and twisted fabrication? Then again, why would he bother with such a chore, when he had already gotten what he wanted? And Jesus seemed earnest, albeit a little naive with his unyielding sense of hope. Perhaps taking a chance on him, though, was the only option. At least, it was the only immediate hope Daryl had of getting you back.
But he knew the king might not be swayed as easily.
“Even if, by some miracle, we had a chance of defeating Negan’s army, we do not even know where the Sanctuary is.”
And then, a full smile split Jesus’ face. “Well, your majesty, I happen to know precisely where the Sanctuary is.” The court broke out into hushed murmurs again, while the king leaned forward in his seat, intrigued.
“How?”
“When the Saviors came, I was taken prisoner, held in the dungeon and tortured for hours on end until I pledged allegiance to Negan. I never gave in—I escaped. I know that castle inside out.”
Without the composure to keep himself silent, Sir Daryl stepped forward, making himself known to the foreign prince who knelt before the king. From the corner of Ezekiel’s eye, he watched the knight stand tall, beginning to speak directly to Jesus. Despite his confusion, Ezekiel did not silence him.
“The princess was taken by Negan last night,” said the knight. “She is imprisoned somewhere in the Sanctuary against her will. If we make an assault on the Sanctuary, with your people, would you help us find her?”
Jesus looked wide-eyed between the knight and the king. “Of course,” he said. “I can lead you through the Sanctuary to find her.”
The king, however, was a little more skeptical. Perhaps Daryl’s desperation to get you back was clouding his judgment, but he was about ready to get on his horse and go with this strange man and his people to find you right now. Ezekiel was a little more experienced in dealing with foreign dignitaries and their negotiations.
“And why should I trust you?” he said. “There must be something you want in return from Alexandria.”
“Well, in return for our services, the Hilltop simply asks for future alliances with Alexandria. And, if you’re amenable to it, we’d be willing to offer our help with repairing your kingdom in exchange for citizenship. The Hilltop has an abundance of grain, livestock, steel, all of which we would bring to Alexandria… And, to be frank, your kingdom has no other choice but to trust us. Your chances of getting your daughter back are low, unless you accept our help.”
He was right, the king knew that.
As he stood from his throne, he gestured to the man who knelt before him. “Arise, Prince Jesus of the Hilltop,” he commanded, his voice strong and echoing through the great hall.
Jesus stood to his feet, meeting the king’s eyes as he walked towards him, dignified and head held high. When Ezekiel placed his hand on the prince’s shoulder, the court knew that the king had accepted the Hilltop’s aid.
Without another moment’s hesitation, Sir Daryl stepped forward again, his impatience growing with every second that you were gone. Perhaps he was lacking chivalry, or even making it too evidently clear that he loved you, but in his desperation, he did not care one bit.
“What the hell are we waitin’ for?” he said. “Let’s do this.”
You’d been counting down the days like a prisoner—the world’s most pampered prisoner. Seven days, when the clock struck midnight. Seven days trapped in the Sanctuary.
Negan hadn’t come to see you in that time, with only servants bringing you meticulously arranged dishes on silver platters, with the finest cutlery money could buy. Somewhat infuriatingly, you had recognized the steak knife you’d been given, that intricate detailing on the handle that had been carved by hand with the crest of Alexandria.
You’d wondered if it had been a coincidence, but you knew better: it was a subtle way of taunting you, reminding you that your kingdom had been ravaged by the Saviors, just as you would soon be ravaged by Negan.
That is, whenever he would be reminded of your existence.
Tonight, it seemed he finally considered you worthy of his presence again, after you’d struck him in self-defense the night you arrived. Either he had brushed off the incident, or his lust overshadowed his bitterness. In any case, you’d been summoned to his chambers, but not before lifting your feather pillow to reveal that steak knife, the one you’d been so bold to keep to yourself before the last servant could take your platter away.
It was freshly sharpened, too. Last night, you’d tested its ability to cut through meat, and sure enough, it cut like butter. Negan’s flesh couldn’t be much different.
But you’d have to get close to him, to obey him, to submit to him. It would be difficult, trying to act as though you’d come around to the idea of being Negan’s wife. Even the thought of it threatened to cause a bout of nausea, but it couldn’t be much worse than having to live the rest of your life in devotion to him. An hour or two of flattering him, entertaining him, perhaps even accepting his advances… God, it sickened you, but it would be the simplest way to catch him off guard just long enough to strike.
Daryl had helped you practice against walkers at times, but never living men, never men who could just as easily hurt you back if you made the wrong move at the wrong time. You could always run away from walkers, not men.
Still, your hatred for Negan fueled you. With every step you took towards his quarters, guards on either side of you escorting you the way there, you thought of every horrible thing he had done, and all the horrible things you hadn’t known he had done. Killing was never something you had thought you would ever do. You’d been taught that no mortal could ever take the life of another man—that such a thing was God’s decision and God’s alone.
If you knew God, though, if you knew what God stood for, you knew that God would not punish you for ridding the world of a man like Negan. If He did, then perhaps God was not as just as you’d been told to believe.
The fact that a man like this was still breathing, while Daryl was not, was proof enough that there was no divine justice in this world, and that sometimes, a mortal would have to take matters into their own hands.
When the guards led you into Negan’s chamber, you were greeted by the man, whose back was turned towards you as he poured himself a goblet of wine. The door was hurriedly shut behind you, with the low-pitched click of the turn of a lock quickly following.
The man’s eyes gazed over his shoulder, taking stock of your appearance—as it was the middle of the night, and you’d been practically woken from sleep, you were clad in only a semi-translucent white chemise that reached your ankles, over which you’d draped a scarlet colored housecoat to protect your modesty, and to conceal the knife you’d hidden in its inner pocket.
“Did my summons disturb your sleep, princess?” He turned, revealing not one, but two goblets of wine, one in each hand as he sauntered forward, towards you.
“No.” In fact, it didn’t. You hadn’t been able to get to sleep before midnight since you’d been captured.
“Good.” With an outstretched hand, he offered you a goblet. “Wine?”
Wine disgusted you… You took it. “Thank you.”
With only a moment’s hesitation, you raised the goblet to your lips and took a small sip, then a much bigger one as you tilted the goblet upwards and gulped down the rest of the red liquid. You would need it, though you swallowed it with a grimace.
“You just keep surprising me, princess.”
“I was… quite thirsty.”
“There’s plenty more where that came from, if you’d like.”
Your head was already beginning to swim. “No, no… Thank you. May I sit?”
The man raised an eyebrow, then turned to gesture towards the bed—canopied and shrouded in dozens of ornately decorated pillows.
“Be my guest.”
He seemed both surprised and amused by your ease, watching you with a widening grin as you crossed over to the edge of the bed to sit. As he took another sip of his wine, he sat himself beside you, sending a shiver down your spine that you hoped would be concealed by your attempt at calmness.
As he sat, you took note of his appearance. He wore no armor, of course. In fact, he seemed to be only clothed in a robe not unlike yours. It would be easy to penetrate his skin, when the opportunity would present itself.
The more he leaned closer, his eyes unabashedly trailing over your chest, which began to heave noticeably underneath your chemise, you felt fear rise up within you. How could you not be afraid? He looked at you as though you were prey.
“Milady,” he began, the word from him like millions of little daggers penetrating your eardrums. Only one man deserved to call you that, to refer to you as his. “I want to apologize for my crass behavior. You see, it’s just… You’re so beautiful, and to think of anyone having you before me…”
Despite your disgust, you played into it, attempting to be the submissive maiden he wanted you to be.
“No one has had me, sir.” To say that caused you immense heartache, knowing that you had denied the love you shared with Daryl, but in order to gain Negan’s trust, just for the moment, you’d do anything. Almost anything. “I should be the one apologizing for my lack of decorum… I—I just…”
Negan swallowed the rest of his wine, letting the empty goblet dangle in his hands and fall to the floor with a quiet thud. As he leaned closer, you watched his hand settle on your thigh, long fingers curling into your flesh. The heavy pet of his touch all but silenced you. When he leaned so close that you could feel the sting of his heavy, wine-scented breath on your cheek.
“You don’t have to explain.” He squeezed your thigh, as his other hand touched your lower back, moving in circles just above your bottom. It was a filthy, lecherous touch, one that made you nauseous and dizzy with disgust. “Do you like when I touch you like this?”
His lips were so close now, the wiry hairs of his freshly trimmed beard scratching the soft flesh of your cheek. Leaning ever closer, he did not kiss you, but dragged his wanton lips over your skin, as if to taunt you.
“Yes.” You weren’t sure how many more lies you could tell without being deemed a sinner.
While his hand inched up your thigh, his lips pursed to kiss the side of your face, the feeling of which made you shut your eyes tight, until a few tears began to fall.
You felt vile, impure, desecrated. Though you were no longer a virgin in the carnal sense, you had not felt this growing defilement rising in you, polluting your mind, body, and soul. Not when Daryl looked at you. Not when he touched you. Not when he made love to you.
With him, it felt like a fresh spring daisy blossoming for the first time. Now, it felt like you were wilted, decaying, rotten. It only fueled your anger, your back straightening and your lips tightening as you tried to ignore his touches, his mouth contaminating your once pure skin as he licked your neck, his hand squeezing desperately at your mound from over top of your nightgown.
“Please,” you whispered, somewhere between a plea and an aggravated groan.
“My princess.” You squeezed another few tears as you winced at the phrase, which had so potently reminded you of your true love, whose princess you truly were. Not Negan’s. “I knew you wanted me. I could see it, the way you look at me, all innocent and scared, like a little wide-eyed fawn… Even now you tremble.”
Indeed, your tenseness had given way to jitters, your heart shivering as if it was encased in a thick block of ice. That’s what he felt like to you, too—his touch icy and bitter, with his bony chest digging into your shoulder and his slimy fingers violating you with more and more desperation as he fondled you. He was more like a skeleton than a man of flesh and blood, and you were in his grasp. Not for long, you assured yourself. A moment would present itself, and you would end him. For your kingdom. For Daryl. For you.
He grasped at your chin, forcing you to face him as he smiled at you, his eyes focused on your agape lips that trembled with each nervous breath.
“You’re mine,” he said. “Say you’re mine.”
Never!
But you could not say that, not now. Not when you were so close to getting his guard down just enough to turn on him. With the words struggling to form, their weight being tugged out of you like tattered rags tied together and shoved down your throat, you appeased him.
“I am yours.”
Your tear-soaked voice faltered as you spoke, but the man did not seem to notice, drunk with his own arrogance at the sound of those words on your lips. A part of you wondered if he even cared whether or not you told the truth—you wondered if he just wanted the illusion of being wanted.
Apart from his panting breaths, a silence hung between you for a moment, with an air of anticipation drawing out those several seconds into what felt like a century. You knew what he was about to do, and though you could not stop crying, much to his lack of care, you prepared yourself, straightening your back to face the assault of his lips.
They were cold, just like everything else about him, but your lips warmed them, much to his satisfaction, and to your sorrow. They fit uncomfortably, but perhaps that was because you knew your lips weren’t meant for him. In fact, you were certain no human lips were meant to suit a mouth like his. He was so vile to you that you were sure he did not deserve the pleasure of love. But there was no love in his kiss to begin with, only lust. A dark, demanding lust.
His hand clenched around a chunk of your hair, nails scratching your scalp as you whimpered into his mouth, your lips being manipulated by his as he mangled you with his kiss. But you did not fight back, not yet. You only let him control you, his body leaning into yours to get you laying flat on the bed behind you. Underneath you, you could feel the handle of your knife digging into your side. It made your eyes shoot open, though he did not see. He was occupied with your mouth, violating its sanctity with his wiggling tongue.
If he were any heavier, you might not have been able to loosen your arm out from under him, but you managed to free yourself, only to place your hands on his back, with the hopes of encouraging him despite your stiffness.
But the longer he kissed you, fondled you, licked you, you began to slowly remove one hand, using it to dig into the pocket of your robe, where the sharp blade of the knife had nearly torn a hole.
As you clenched your fingers around the handle of the knife, the man on top of you mumbled that same sickening phrase against your open mouth. “You’re mine.”
When he said it, it was more possessive, almost victorious, as if he’d won you. It was not a matter of being yours because you wanted to be his, but because he had decided you were. Being under him now, physically oppressed by the weight of his body, represented how powerless you had been made to feel most of your life. Only in recent times had you felt free, and that was because of Daryl. He made you feel free, not only because he freed you, but because he loved you. His love had freed you.
And now, he was dead because of the devil that had you in his snare, his filthy mouth soaking yours with his rancid spit. You hated him, and as you raised the knife higher, you did not fear the consequences of your actions. You did not even fear death. Death would only bring you closer to your love, whose desperate cries of pain echoed in your weary mind. Tears flooded over your cheeks now, whimpers lost in the cavernous void that was his mouth.
Daryl… His name repeated in your head, your internal voice crying out, pleading. You felt sick to your stomach, nausea threatening to overtake you. Though he was dead, and what you did now was only to get Negan as close to you as possible, distracted just long enough to make your strike, you felt you had betrayed him, he whose loyalty was stronger than you believed you could ever be.
All you wanted was for it all to end, and you could end it now. Squeezing that knife, you thought only of him, of your sorry excuse for a knight. How you cried, your sobs mistaken by Negan to be moans of pleasure from his kiss, but the truth remained—your heart was broken. I am so sorry, my love.
“Say it,” he said between his vulgar kisses. “Say you’re mine. Say you belong to me.”
His now serpentine voice stung your ears, reawakening you to the moment at hand, to the knife your fingers clinged to as you raised it higher, Negan unaware.
You aimed the blade downwards, its sharp, shining point just several inches from his back, just about where you knew his heart would be, if he had one in that bony body of his.
“I—I belong…”
With your eyes squeezed shut, you held the blade with a shaky hand as you thought of him again, those sparkling blue eyes. That sinuous, often messy hair of caramel brown. That voice, raspy yet soft, tickling your ears in the most pleasant way. Those hands, big and strong and always so very warm. And that smile… That was your favorite part of him. It was rare to see it in all its glory, but you counted yourself lucky to have beheld its presence, to have felt it against your cheek as he kissed you.
And oh, you hadn’t been able to kiss him enough. How you wished for more time, for more long nights wrapped up in the embrace of his muscle-bound arms as you shared in whispers until your voices faded into each other. You could never forget him, not ever. Above all else, you could never forget who you really belonged to, and how you belonged to him because you wanted to be his.
“I belong to…”
Finally freeing your mouth, Negan trailed his lips to your collarbone, beginning to suck on your skin in an attempt to mark you there, though you did not feel it, instead focusing on the image of your knight, with that crooked boyish smile.
Still, holding the knife, you opened your mouth to speak, with one name on your breathy voice: “Daryl.”
With a jolt, Negan pulled away, furrowing his brows as he looked down at you, with only the dim candlelit glow to illuminate his confusion. “What?”
Your eyes wide, you panicked, bringing down the knife in a frantic motion, but Negan was faster, lifting himself up and grasping hard at your wrist, where your trembling hand held the knife.
You could see its silvery glimmer reflecting in Negan’s wide eyes, his breath quickening and his chest heaving as the veins in his forehead and neck swelled. He tugged the knife from your hand, while you only could lay there frozen, still in disbelief of what had happened. You had gotten so close to freedom, to vengeance, and now, you were sure you’d be killed before you could ever get another chance at killing him.
“Princess,” he said, his voice somewhere between sick amusement and utter, total rage. “Either you’re a lot kinkier than you look, or you just tried to fuckin’ kill me.”
The knife fell to the floor with a clatter, followed by a silence, during which you sat up, breathing heavy, teary breaths. “I—I’m—”
The back of his hand cut you off, the weight of his smack sending you stumbling off the bed and onto all fours. You had half a mind to crawl towards the fallen knife in front of you, but he kicked it across the room just as you began to reach for it.
“You really are a dirty little bitch.”
In your shame, you could only hang your head, weeping. Never in your life had you felt so humiliated, so devoid of whatever poise and honor and dignity you’d ever had. As if to hide your sobbing face, you curled your head into your hands, but Negan would not let you have even that last shred of self-respect you had left. You felt his foot underneath your stomach, kicking upwards to forcibly flip you over onto your back, your spine hitting the hard timber with a painful thud.
Two long, spidery legs stretched out on either side of you as he towered directly over you, looking down at you now almost with pity, but mostly with a snarling fury.
As you choked back on the lump in your throat, you lifted your chin in one last attempt to appear like the dignified princess you were supposed to be, but the words you spoke through forcibly tight lips betrayed you: “Just kill me.”
In his cruelty, he only laughed, that arrogant chuckle that usually made your skin crawl, but now you couldn’t feel anything, not even the pain from his strike, which would surely manifest itself in a bruise.
“Killing you, princess, would be a waste. Besides, I don’t kill beautiful women.”
I am so flattered.
But you only repeated those words, this time throwing your head back as you screamed, your voice breaking into a pleading cry. “Just kill me!”
With a tilt of his head, he studied your face—your swelling, reddened eyes and your lashes decorated with little globules of tears, like the dewdrops on gossamer in a cool spring morning. He was right—you were pretty when you cried. It was a sight too beautiful to rid the world of. Well, to rid himself of. Everything he did, he did for himself, after all.
“No… I’ve got a better idea. Guards!” The door burst open to startle you just before two Saviors marched in, their eyes not on you, but Negan, who stepped over you as he spoke. “Since my bride is so very ungrateful of the luxuries and splendors I have granted her here, I believe the only solution is to show her just how much more… inhospitable we can be.”
You watched him gesture to the guards, not even caring enough to look your way. He was angry, but too angry to yell. It was that eerie, quiet anger. The kind that was so much worse than the belligerent type.
All you could feel as your body went numb from the sheer overstimulation of emotion was the grip of the two guards, one on either side of you, pulling you up by your arms, though you did not protest much—you did not have the strength within you. You were broken, defeated. The conflagration of rage had washed away with the deluge of your tears, leaving behind only a sea of sorrow and despair.
“Take her to the dungeon,” he said. “If she cannot learn to show gratitude, and to love and please her husband, we shall teach her.”
Now feeling barren, with no tears left to cry, you were all but dragged through the corridors, barely able to carry yourself on your weakened legs. They took you further down, until you reached the dungeon, the cold, damp stone under your bare feet causing you to cringe in disgust.
Through a corridor shrouded in the darkness of night, lit only by the flames of the torches upon the stone walls, you were taken to a row of cells, all of which were unoccupied, except for half-decayed remains scattered around, some hanging in iron cages, others strewn about indiscriminately.
You had your eyes stuck on one particularly fresh looking corpse as you walked, its flesh almost resembling candle wax that was melting off the bone. Flies swarmed the place, and you grimaced at the maggots that gushed out from the corpse’s eye socket as they toppled over each other in a small avalanche.
In your distraction, you did not see the severed foot that you tripped over, eliciting a chuckle from the Saviors who led you down the dank, gory chamber.
The horrible creak of the rusty old bars opening had stirred you from your thoughts, along with the sudden thrust as the other guard pushed you forward, your knees hitting the cold hard ground with a searing pain.
If you had any strength in you left, you might’ve risen to your feet, lunging yourself towards the bars of the cell as the guards locked the padlock around the chain to beg them to let you go, but even if you could leave, where would you go?
Your home was destroyed, and even if you could get back there, you had no idea how to find your way back. Your father could be miles away by now, and the only other hope you had once had was in Daryl.
Daryl, who was gone.
You had nothing, nowhere, no one.
Yet, in the cold, dark, dank dungeon you found yourself in, surrounded by the mutilated, decaying corpses of those who had been tortured by the Saviors, there was one living truth you could cling to: you were safe from Negan, for now.
From this distance, it was difficult to make out the exact layout of the castle, but Jesus seemed sure—this was the Sanctuary, and tomorrow, Alexandria and the Hilltop would lay waste to Negan and his Saviors. Well, that was the hope, anyway.
It was several acres away, far enough for the guards in the battlements not to see the camp that had been set up for the night, but close enough for the knight to study the shape of the castle, its towers with tall, conical roofs and flags bearing Negan’s crest billowing in the cool night air. A full moon lit up the otherwise dreary tableau, along with the few flickers of firelight between the crenelations in the castle’s curtain.
Though the night was quiet, with only a cool, gentle breeze softly whistling through the trees, Daryl’s mind was full of disquiet, as it had been since you were taken a week ago. The army of three hundred or so soldiers from Alexandria and the Hilltop had been traveling for three days, the other four days spent preparing for battle. Still, he could not wait, not even allowing himself sleep but only for a few hours each night.
Even when he did sleep, it was uneasy, with the lingering dread of what evils you might be exposed to keeping him on edge. It was as though his mind was punishing his body, depriving it of sleep as discipline for losing you. At every waking moment, he was thinking of ways he could’ve kept you from being taken, of things he could’ve done to prevent the inevitable. He knew, though, that ultimately, there was no stopping Negan, and that, sooner or later, he would’ve found you.
But the only hope he had was in knowing that you were alive, that Negan could not kill you. After all, you were his prize, his symbol of victory over Alexandria. Though he shuddered to think of all the ways he could hurt you, at least that one hope was still keeping him going.
Now, the knight stood alone, far away from the glow of the campfires the other soldiers had built. Though the others seemed content to chat amongst themselves quietly, some even sharing in a few laughs, all Daryl could do was think of you.
I will find you, my love. his own voice echoed in his head. I will bring you home. I promise.
But his thoughts were soon interrupted by a voice he recognized, though he could not believe was speaking to him.
“Tis dangerous to be so far from the camp, good sir.”
There were few moments he had shared alone with the king, and though Ezekiel was a genial, kindhearted king, there was an air of prestige about him that made the knight nervous. Perhaps it was the very fact that he was royalty, or, more likely, the constant worry that he might suspect Daryl’s true feelings for the man’s daughter. For all he knew, the king could have known of your trysts all along.
“But it is nice, the quiet,” added the king, followed by a deep breath as he took in the fresh, clean air of the woods. “Savor it, for tomorrow, there will be no quiet.”
Daryl turned to the side to meet the king’s noble gaze. He looked weary, but hopeful, with that spark of faith in his eye.
“No Savior left alive,” said Daryl, repeating the phrase the king had spoken earlier during the arrangement of the plan. “If what Jesus said is true, though, there are women and children there. Elderly, too.”
“Then they are to be spared.”
“Only men big enough to carry a sword,” agreed the knight. “That’s always been the rule in battle.”
“And Negan. We must kill Negan.”
Indeed, Daryl had been meaning to ask: who would get the pleasure of sending the bastard to Hell?
“How do you want to do it?” asked the knight. “We could capture him, take him back to Alexandria for a public execution, or we could kill him on sight. What say you?”
The king only held Daryl’s gaze. “I want it over with tomorrow,” he said. “I do not care who gets the kill, and I do not care how. I do not care if he suffers or if it is a quick death, I just want to see that vermin’s head on a spike, on display before the ruins of the Sanctuary. I want him to pay for his transgressions with his life, and I want Satan to torture him in Hell. More than that, I just want my child back.”
“That is my top priority, I assure you. I will—” He stopped himself, realizing that he was speaking too much from his own perspective, but in his mind, you were solely his responsibility, and his alone. He was quick to catch himself. “We will find her.”
But Ezekiel seemed to catch on, at least a little.
The king had known more than you or Daryl thought he’d known, but it was only as far as the friendship that had blossomed between you. As for the excursions, and your true feelings, he knew none of that, as it had been so carefully concealed from his knowledge. Still, he knew that Daryl cared for you, and it was not becoming increasingly obvious the more he devoted himself to getting you back.
“You care a great deal for her, yes?”
I love her.
“Yes, your majesty.”
Ezekiel smiled, and in his smile was that same warmth and kindness that graced your face. “She cares for you, too. In fact, at the tournament, she was worried sick about you. She begged me to all but stop the joust, lest you get hurt.”
Daryl’s cheeks heated against the cool of the late night breeze as he lowered his head, hoping to hide the obvious blush. Despite being so flattered by the idea, he cleared his throat in an attempt to seem nonchalant. Inside, though, he was so very giddy at the thought of his sweet princess, whom he had tried so hard to impress that day. But that happy memory gave way to seriousness again.
“She is… good-hearted.”
“Indeed, and she cares for her people. All of them—the young and the old, the prosperous and the destitute, the healthy and the ailing. The strong and the weak. She has always been selfless. I know one day, she will be a great queen.”
The knight could only nod in agreement, while his heart ached for you, to know you were all right. The more your father praised you, the more he became desperate to get you back home, and the more he felt as though it was his responsibility, and his alone.
“She will.”
Ezekiel’s hand weighed heavily on Daryl’s shoulder now, as he stepped aside to face him more directly. Though his lips were pulled into a kind smile, his eyes portrayed an earnestness that caught the knight’s attention.
“I must ask something of you, Sir Daryl.”
As if by instinct, Daryl straightened his back in an attempt to be the picture of knighthood he knew he should always display. “Anything, your majesty.”
“When we get to the Sanctuary tomorrow, I want you to be in charge of finding the princess.”
It was both a shock and a relief. Though he was already planning on separating from the battle to find you as soon as he could, to know the king had made an explicit request was a reassurance and an honor. Besides, he certainly was not going to let Jesus, the only person who knew how to navigate the inside of the keep, go looking for you alone. Though he was almost certain that the prince was sincere in his loyalty, he could not risk a blindspot.
“I know you care for her more than anyone else here besides me,” the king continued, “and you’re her bodyguard. It only makes sense for you to be in charge of her safety… And I trust you more than Jesus.”
That went without saying.
“My king,” began the knight, keeping his gaze level with that of Ezekiel’s, “I will gladly find your daughter.”
“Good man,” replied the king with a pat on the knight’s shoulder. He began to make his way back towards the camp as he spoke again: “It would do you good to retire soon. We have a big day ahead of us.”
Indeed, Daryl knew of the challenges laid out before him, of the blood that would be shed tomorrow, of both Saviors and his own. He knew battle well, though he had not seen one against fellow living men in quite some time. It never got any easier, but this battle was different. He could feel it.
To take someone’s life indiscriminately, without consideration for the pain and suffering that one would inflict, was always difficult to grasp. Now, though, Daryl was not simply fighting a king’s war. He was not fighting for the supremacy of a religion or for claim over territory. This was personal.
Tomorrow, he would have no remorse, no compassion, no sorrow. He would not mourn the deaths of countless Saviors who were just as evil as Negan. Oh, and Negan…
That man would not escape Daryl’s wrath this time. In fact, he’d face the worst of it. It was not just the fact that he had taken you from him, but that he had taken your home, pillaged it until the place was left to ruin. Beyond all else, he had frightened you, hurt you.
A knight’s most chivalrous duty was to protect the honor of his lady, no matter how gruesome the act of doing so may be. He had an obligation to kill that man, to make him pay for the suffering he had caused you, his lady to whom he devoted his mind, body, and soul.
Though the king did not care who got the final death blow, Daryl knew one thing above all else to be true: he was going to kill that man. After all, he had told the man to his face that he would be the one to kill him, and a knight never breaks a promise.
~
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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔
Pairing: Evelyn Harper (OC) x Elvis Presley
Word count: 2,6K
Chapter summary: It's been a week since Elvis spilled the beans, and Evelyn hasn't left the penthouse since. When seeing pictures of her past life, she realises that Elvis is truthful with her and whey they share a kiss and flashbacks start flooding in, she can no longer deny what's in front of her.
Chapter warnings: short time jump, nothing too serious.
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EVELYN'S POV
It’s been a week since Elvis told me everything.
That he and I were past lovers.
That he was my husband.
Ever since that night, I hadn’t left his room. He respected my boundaries and gave me space whenever I needed it, while I’d been ignoring phone calls from Ruby and Eli the entire time.
I was sure they hadn’t told my father yet. Knowing him, he would probably show his rotten face as soon as he knew what was going on and there hasn’t been any news from him yet.
I never wanted to talk to or face any of them ever again, but I knew that was nothing but wishful thinking. I still had a lot of unanswered questions consuming my every thought, ones that I needed to speak to my father to if I wanted the answers to them.
But for now, I wasn’t ready for that yet.
Elvis was starting to seem like the only person I could trust and when he told me that he wasn’t behind the murders that had been happening in and around the hotel, I believed him. It made sense – with so many eyes on him at all times, he wasn’t going to commit meaningless murders and leave a mess behind.
I knew that vampires had certain cravings and I was very aware that they were predators. Due to the compulsion I was still very much under, I still hated the leeches.
Yet, when it came to Elvis, I tried my hardest to look further than my nose and find what was underneath and he had no problem showing his vulnerable side to me.
Just two days ago, I found him crying in his bedroom and instead of walking away and pretending I hadn’t seen it, I’d felt myself drawn to him. I’d had the intense urge to hug him and tell him everything was going to be alright.
So, I had done just that, and that’s when I realised that Elvis wasn’t the kind of monster I had been made to believe.
I could see how the whole situation was affecting him. I could see the hurt in his eyes when he’d reach for my hand and I pulled back on my sick compulsion-induced instinct. So when I had offered an olive branch and was the one to take the first step and embrace him, comforting him in my arms, it was like he completely lowered his walls.
“I’m sorry for stealing your bed,” I smiled at the vampire as he came into his bedroom on a late Sunday night, throwing his shoes in a corner.
He had canceled his entire residency, much to the chagrin of his manager and the owners of the hotel, but although he hadn’t admitted it, I’m sure he compelled his way out of it so nobody would ask any questions. As of now, he was just another VIP guest.
And I never admitted it out loud to him either, but I was kind of glad that his time wasn’t occupied with the tiring shows anymore. God knows what Ruby and Eli would do to him in front of his own fans, if they were even still there.
God knows what would happen if my father decided to show his face.
Despite Elvis not doing any shows anymore, he didn’t hover and his entourage kept their distance as well.
Apparently, I’ve known them in the past too and was even friends with a few of them, which made me regret doing what I did to Richard even though Elvis finished the job.
I wondered how he felt about that – the thought of him blaming me was selfishly painful. I didn’t ask him about it, and neither did he bring it up.
“’S okay,” he drawled with that sweet Southern accent, his voice soft and low as his lips curled into a warm smile. He sat on the edge of the bed as I sat up against the headboard, not even trying to hide that I was wearing one of his his silky button ups.
I’d been wearing his clothes to bed for a week now, and I was pretty sure he liked that. It was evident in the way he’d look me up and down like a lovesick puppy when he thought I wasn’t looking. “I don’t need much sleep, anyways. Are you hungry?”
My heart swelled at the way he seemed to be always concerned about me. He wasn’t the greatest cook and I figured it was because he didn’t exactly need human food so he never made it and he had people do it for him whenever he wanted to, but it was the thought that counted.
He told me stories, about me, about himself, about us.
Made his guys go out shopping for me because I left my luggage in my own hotel room and I expressed concern about his friends facing mine. I bet if I’d ask him to get me the moon, he would.
And then those eyes… hopeful as can be every time he looked at me.
There was love in them, admiration even, and it was all reserved for me and me alone.
It made the guilt inside of me grow little by little every day – because in my current state, I couldn’t look at him that way.
Sure, I realised he wasn’t the monster I thought he was, but right now I didn’t love him like he loved me. I’d been programmed not to. It must’ve been so incredibly hard for him and yet, he was kind and understanding.
That took a different kind of mental strength, especially for a vampire whose feelings were heightened so much so that a human couldn’t even fathom the fact.
“No, I ate after you left,” I told him as I tightened my ponytail. I had no idea where he went tonight and I didn’t ask. Maybe I was better off not knowing certain things. Besides, in the time he was gone, it had given me time to snoop for things, anything, that could perhaps make me remember. Even if it was only a small slice of the life I had before. “I found some photo’s..”
That twinkle of hope returned to his ocean blue eyes immediately, watching me as I pulled up a photo book from the side of the bed and placing it on my lap.
“You made that thing after we got married, said you wanted to capture every special moment of our lives,” Elvis smiled as he looked at the pictures on the first page as I opened the thick book. “I take it everywhere with me. It’s like my second Bible.”
I laughed softly, biting my lip as I caressed my fingertips over a picture of him and me in front of a gorgeous house that I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes off of. The house seemed to be in a lot of pictures and I figured it was where we lived. Looking at these photographs was still kind of like looking at the life of a girl who wore the same face as me, but I didn’t say that to Elvis.
I didn’t want him to lose hope, and neither did I.
I wanted to remember, so badly.
“Can you tell me about it?”
We looked at each other and the sweet, boyish smile he gave me when I patted the empty spot next to me caused my heart to clench tightly in my chest. I gave him an assuring smile and he immediately moved to take the empty spot, his big frame pressed against mine as he looked down at the book.
“This is in front of our home, Graceland,” he told me as I took in the two people in front of the small white mansion, looking up and smiling at each other like they won the lottery. “It was on the day we signed the papers and got the keys. You loved that place..”
I apparently loved it so much that I’d taken pictures of the outside property and in the interior of every room of the house and put them in the following pages of this very book. I could see why I did – the place was beautiful, perfect even. It did not look like some creepy, dark vampire den despite the place crawling with it with Elvis and his entourage being there, but it looked like a warm home full of memories made with family and friends.
I looked up at Elvis, a hint of cologne wafting up my nose and making my heart do a sommersault. He was still thumbing through the book, narrating every photo as if we were watching a movie.
There was a genuinely happy smile on his face and when he looked at me and stopped talking as if I interrupted him, letting out a soft hearty laugh, I realised then and there that he truly and deeply loved me.
Knowing that brought me solace.
People have been forcing lies down my throat for God knows how long, literally using mind compulsion just for me to be what they wanted me to be.
And in all of that chaos, there was Elvis.
A man who loved me so much he could barely keep his eyes off of me, who felt so intensely and deeply for me that I caught his hand trembling as he turned the page of the photo book.
A man who loved me for me, and saw me for what I was rather than for what everyone else wanted me to be.
Somewhat impulsively, I grabbed his wrist with both of my hands and raised his arm, putting it around me so I could lean into his side.
He seemed surprised by my actions, but relaxed soon enough and I could feel his hand squeezing my shoulder softly, pressing me against him as he kissed the top of my head and inhaled the scent of my shampoo, releasing a deep breath of air.
I allowed it as I let my hand that had been holding onto the book travel up his stomach and to his chest, squeezing my eyes shut as he had me pressed so firmly against him, my face was hidden in his neck. I could feel his chest hair underneath the pads of my fingertips due to the fact he was wearing a blouse which had most of the buttons left open.
As I placed my palm over his heart, it was like I was falling into a state of dreaming.
It was short and quick, like a movie scene playing right behind my eyelids, but it was there.
Me and him posing in front of Graceland, standing atop of the steps that led to the front door. There was laughter in the background, Charlie standing at the bottom of the steps, telling us what poses to take on and snapping away with the camera in his hands.
The Memphis Mafia standing around with smiles on their faces, their respected wives and girlfriends ooh-ing and aah-ing at the house, shrieks and giggles coming from Elvis's fans who stood by the gate of the walled property.
“I love you, baby,” Elvis whispering in my ear, kissing my lips, my cheeks, blowing a playful raspberry in my neck.
Our laughter mingling together in a beautiful melody.
His arms wrapped around me so tight I felt I was suffocating and me squeezing him back with all my might.
“I love you more,” I told him, looking up at him lovingly as my hand reached up to caress back some of his hair. “To the moon and back.”
I’d whispered the words in his ear, only for him to hear.
Happy.
So incredibly, unfathomable happy.
I gasped softly as the images flashed out, pushing myself away from him enough to look at him with wide eyes.
He frowned, and I could feel his body tensing up next to me, afraid that he’d done something wrong.
That he might’ve taken things too far, too soon.
“I saw.. I saw something,” I breathed out as I blinked rapidly, wanting to force the flashback to return, but ofcourse it didn’t. “I saw us at Graceland, taking that photo.. Everyone was there.. Y-your.. your guys and other girls… your fans. I don’t know them but I do and...”
I had to remind myself to breathe, placing my palm against my forehead as I let out a laugh.
Hope had landed in my heart and was starting to root itself in there.
“Wait, baby.. W-what.. How? Do you see more?”
My heart jumped at the crack of excitement in his voice, his tongue laced with emotion. I wanted to see more, I had to see more, but I had to disappoint him by shaking my head as my shoulders slumped a little.
Right then, I learned that I hated seeing him look disappointed, even at something that we couldn’t fight against, something that was out of our control.
The flashback came when we held each other, when we were so close to one another it felt like we’d crawl into each others’ skin.
I widened my eyes a little as I pushed the photo book off my lap and straddled him in a whim of another impulsiveness.
I was hoping this would even work or I’d look like one of his fans throwing herself at him, but I doubted he'd mind.
“Eva, we don’t have to-”
“Kiss me.”
I surprised the both of us with my words, but they’d flown off my tongue before I could stop myself.
If holding each other caused a short flashback like that, I was hoping that a kiss would give me a better and longer one.
And if a kiss did that, then…
Elvis didn’t need to be told twice.
I barely had time to suck in a breath of air as he cupped my face and crashed his lips onto mine.
I tensed up for the first few seconds, but as he parted his lips and I could feel his tongue asking for entrance, I fully melted under his touch. I gave him what he wanted and wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he wound his around my waist, holding my body firmly against his.
Bones tingling, a fire lit up in my chest as my heartbeat drummed in my ears.
And then the flashbacks came rolling in…
At Graceland with friends who I now realised was like a family to me, us together in our bedroom making love, dancing in the kitchen in the middle of the night, making plans for the future…
Him putting my necklace around me on the night before our wedding.
“It belonged to my mother. She’d want you to have it.”
I gasped as Elvis broke the kiss, looking at me through half lidded eyes, his hands having moved down to cup my ass. I let him and as if my body was set on automatic pilot, I grinded myself against him.
His body responded and he looked bashful about it, but before he could speak I tangled my fingers in his hair at the back of his head, my lips once more chasing his.
“More,” I begged against his plumb, kissed lips. “I need more..”
More of him. More of our memories together.
I wanted him to pour all of his emotions and thoughts into me, as if transferring them to me through touches and kisses.
I wanted my husband back.
And most of all, I wanted my life back.
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The Little Merman -D.G. Part One
Warnings: fluff, angst, magic, arguing between family, language, arranged marriage.
Masterlist
Pairing: Merman! Dick Grayson x Reader
Word Count: 3.8K
A/N: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this! I’ve been working away at it for several months now, not to mention how long I’ve been marinating this in my head. Big thanks to @offendedfishnoises for helping me and being my beta for everything. I hope you know how much I appreciate it.
Dick was a good kid, he swears. He always came home on time, his teachers had little to no complaints about him, and was even a model prince for his brothers and sisters. Bruce, the king of the undersea world was proud to call Dick his son, taking him in after his parents perished in a tragic fishing accident.
The only thing that would be questionable about the crown prince, Richard Grayson, is that he was as Alfred liked to say, spirited. Dick wanted to explore, he wanted to live his life before he was tied down never to experience new things again before he was to take over for Bruce.
That’s what led him to where you were, sitting on your little boat watching your beautiful merman bring you shells and treasures from the deep. All he wanted in return was for you to give him human stuff.
The fading blue scales on his face reflected the sunlight matching those of his tail, his eyes almost as blue as the ocean you floated on. His hair was wet and plastered to his forehead, his tanned skin covered in little droplets.
“So, what did you bring me today my fine fishy friend?”
Dick chuckled at the name, he hadn’t given you his name for his and your safety. Most likely nothing would come of it, but he couldn’t risk it. Not when you began to mean more to him than a simple trade partner.
Lifting his bag out of the ocean water, Dick sat it on the floor of your boat. Inside you saw beautiful shells, and even fresh pearls right out of the clam. Dick watched your expression morph into wonder as you looked at them all. The way your eyes lit up made his stomach flip.
“These are beautiful! You didn’t fight off a vicious shark or something did you?”
Dick’s laughter rang through your ears, flexing his arms making his bicep curl. “Oh totally,” he grinned, looking at you. “The toughest of sharks, through the darkest of depths.”
Leaning over the edge of the boat, you smiled at him. “Well, you are very brave,” you beamed, fluffing his ego. “I have some little trinkets from back home that I thought you would like.”
Reaching into your satchel, you rummaged around to find the items you planned to give to him. Lucky for you, your merman friend was easily satisfied with mere human trinkets. You pulled out a candelabra, it wasn’t old but it was a little scuffed and dirty.
Nonetheless, the excitement on his face when you handed it to him made your world that much brighter. It humbled you some to see just how something so simple could make your fishy friend so happy.
Taking it from you, Dick eagerly turned it around in his hands and put it on his head. “Does it work like this?” he asked.
Covering your laughter, you nodded, not having the heart to tell him otherwise.
“It looks perfect,” Leaning over the edge of the boat, you rested your arms on the rim with your chin on top.
Who’d have thought that you’d make friends with a creature of the sea, a creature that was undeniably handsome in his own right. It wasn’t until the sun began to set that you noticed how late you were getting back home. Sadly the kingdom wasn’t going to run itself, even when you had advisors to help.
Dick turned to see the sunsetting and a sad smile formed on his face. His time with you was growing short, and he hated it every time. If only there was something within his power he could do to stay with you longer, but Bruce would never go for that.
Letting out a sigh, Dick pulled himself up to look at you. “When can I see you again?” he couldn’t hide the hope in his voice, as he watched you like you were the only person on Earth.
Meeting his gaze, you couldn’t fight the smile at his excitement but you knew this wasn’t going to last forever.
“How about three days from now, same time?”
Dick nodded vigorously. “Sounds perfect, see you then human.”
“See you then, fishboy.” you smiled, before waving and rowing off back towards the shore.
Watching as you disappeared beyond the horizon, Dick dove back under the water holding his new treasure close to him. He couldn’t help but feel all the more happier after his meetings with you, and it wasn’t just the new treasures each time.
Dick thought the way you smiled was adorable, and how you seemed to hang on every word from one of his stories made him feel like he was swimming on air.
Swimming his way to his hideout, Dick quietly snuck in before storing it with all the new things you gave him. It occurred to Dick that he never asked what it was called though, he’ll just have to ask you in a few days.
Once he knew it was safe, Dick made his way out and back home.
The undersea kingdom was anything but dull. The coral palace glimmered in the light reflecting through the surface, as Dick approached it. He knew it would be late by the time he came home, but Dick had to meet you again.
Lucky for him, the patrol may have been thorough, but they didn’t account for five younger siblings who would cover for him. Looking up towards his room, Dick could see Tim poking his head out the window and waving him on frantically.
Taking one look around, Dick swam up and in his window before any of the guards came back. Letting himself fall onto his bed, Dick let out a sigh.
“Thanks, Tim.” he chuckled.
“Don’t thank me, it was Duke who memorized the route and Cass who made sure Bruce was out before you got home.”
Looking around, Dick noticed that it was only Tim who was there waiting for him. Judging by the dull red and yellow scales on his face, he was exhausted. Where was Jason, and Damian? There was no sign of green or red anywhere. He assumed Duke and cass were off distracting Bruce.
“You look tired Timmers, why don’t you get some rest?”
Tim spared his brother a look, “I can't, I have to plan this thing and Steph promised to help me out.”
“Speaking of our purple friend, how is she?”
Slumping down on the bed beside him, Tim leaned on his shoulder. “She’s good, school has been treating her well.”
“Good, but hey thanks for helping me out again.”
Tim nodded with a smile, “We’re family, what are we supposed to do?”
“Keep him inside, that would be a good place to start.”
Glancing at the door, Dick watched Jason swim his way in with a glare on his face.
“Nice to see you too, Jay.”
Crossing his arms, Jason came to a stop in front of him. “One of these days, you’re going to get caught or worse.”
“Since when did you become the voice of reason?”
“Since I died, Timbo.”
Dick rolled his eyes, “I’m being safe. She doesn’t know my name, let alone that I’m royalty or even where the castle is. We meet not too far off the coast from where she lives, and–”
“And, humans can’t be trusted.”
“Jason will you–”
“No, I will not. Dick, there is more to think about than just yourself. What do you think would happen if you got hurt by a human?”
“I won’t–”
Jason let out an annoyed groan, pulling at his own hair. The dark red scales on his face seeming to get brighter with his anger. “Enough with the I won’t! You’ll never know until you do get hurt!”
This seemed to be an opportune time for Duke to swim into the room with an uneasy look on his face. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes–”
“No–”
“Well, whatever this is, shelve it cause Bruce needs you Dick.”
Letting out a groan, Dick dropped his head before rising off the bed. “Alright, I’ll be on my way in a second.” Casting Jason and Tim one last look, Dick gave them a smile.
“I’ll be okay, you just have to trust me.” With that, he swam out of the room passing Damian and Cassandra on his way to the throne room.
Waving at them, Dick flashed his signature smile and continued on his way. Whatever it was that Bruce wanted to talk to him about, Dick wanted it over and done with quickly so he could show Wally his new thingamabob?
No, that didn’t sound right. Whatchamajig?
No. Dick settled with calling it a new headdress and left it at that.
The guards in front of the throne room opened the doors for him, letting Dick enter the massive room where Bruce sat talking to his most trusted advisor, Alfred the crab.
Alfred had been at Bruce’s side since before Dick was ever adopted, basically raising him when his parents died. Seemed to be a common theme for them.
Swimming up to the tall throne, he stopped just short of Bruce and raised a brow. “What’s up B? Duke said you needed me for something?”
Breaking his conversation with Alfred, Bruce turned to look at his oldest. “Ah, yes. I do indeed need to speak with you about a rather important matter.”
“I’ll be taking my leave Master Bruce, I’ll be in my chambers.”
“Very well, get some rest.”
Alfred nodded and made his way out of the room, leaving Dick and Bruce alone. A long silence stretched between them, Dick folding his hands behind his back while his tail kept him afloat. Bruce however, was as stoic as always.
He watched Dick with a calculated glance, as if he was trying to figure out to break some ocean secrets to him.
It didn’t calm Dick’s nerves at all.
Letting out a sigh, Bruce rose out of the chair. “You know I want what’s best for you, right? For all of you?”
Dick nodded, “Yeah, it’s the whole point of being a dad.”
Bruce smiled at that, “You’re right. But it’s not just you all that I need to watch out for, I have a whole kingdom that needs my attention and sometimes that means making sacrifices.”
Dick did not like where this was going.
“I want you taken care of Dick, and if that means joining forces with a neighboring kingdom then so be it.”
“Bruce, we’ve all been okay enough with only one parental figure. Not sure how Dami would take it if you married someone other than Talia, but he would come around I’m sure.”
“I’m not talking about myself, Dick. You’ve been on good terms with the princess of Tameran for a long time, her parents and I agreed that it would benefit both of our kingdoms if we united in a bond more sacred than a simple treaty.”
Dick really did not like where this was going, at all. “And what kind of bond is that, B?”
“You and Kori are set to be married before the end of the season.”
There was a really long pause, the only thing to be heard was Dick’s breath catching in his throat. The look on Bruce’s face told Dick that he was completely serious, and that there was little room for compromise.
“Bruce, did you even think to ask me before you agreed?”
“Dick, I–”
His face grew hot, and his temper flared. “You what, Bruce? You decided to marry me off without so much as telling me, let alone asking if I wanted to marry her?”
“This isn’t just something you refuse, Dick.” Bruce stated, narrowing his eyes. “I’m doing this for you and the good of the kingdom.”
“For me!? Bruce! How is this for me?” he snapped.
The dark scales on Bruce’s face flared with his anger. “You are my son, and I know what is best for you. You are marrying Princess Koriand’r and that is final.”
Turning away from him, Dick scoffed at his back. “So that’s it? You’re just going to tell me how to live my life, not even bothering to ask if it will make me happy?”
Bruce kept his back to him with a frown. “You’ll understand when you have children of your own.”
“Yeah, I’ll understand the fact that marrying them off is barbaric, no matter who it’s to. I’m not getting married Bruce, I–”
“I am your father and you’re getting married!”
“No you’re not, and you can’t make me.” Before either of them said another word, Dick swam off out of the room ignoring the shouts from behind him.
How could Bruce do this to him, let alone without asking? He’d never do this to any of the others, it didn’t matter if he was the oldest. It wasn’t fair, Dick loved Kori but they weren’t more than friends.
The only person he wanted to marry was from another world, and he couldn’t have you.
Disappearing through the seaweed forest, Dick didn’t stop until he made it to his secret hideaway. Pushing back the stone, Dick moved behind it before it closed shut. He needed to be alone, and think.
There was no way he was getting married, he had to make Bruce see reason.
“Hey, uh Dick? You okay?”
Jumping at the sound of his friend’s voice, Dick swerved to see a certain orange little fish.
“Wally, what are you doing here?”
“You think I didn’t know you were meeting your little human friend?”
“You’re a fish, what do you know?”
“Enough to know that you are half fish, and that it would never work between you and her. Not unless you planned on selling your soul to the sea demon or something.”
That piqued Dick’s interest, “Say that again?”
Wally held his flippers over his mouth. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
Swimming closer, Dick leaned closer coming face to face with Wally. “No, you said something. Sea demon? You mean Slade? You think he would work something out so I can be with her?”
Shaking his head, Wally gasped. “You can’t make a deal with him! There is always a cost with his deals, you know that!”
Whatever argument Wally had, it wasn’t going to work. Dick’s mind was already made up, he was going to make a deal with Slade and get out of this ridiculous marriage. Ignoring Wally’s protests, Dick looked around for one last thing. Depending on what happened to him, he wanted to bring one last gift for you.
Letting out a little “aha”, he wrapped his hand around the little bit of sea glass and tied it to a string he had laying around before pulling it over his head.
“Dick! You can’t be seriously thinking about this!”
“Wally, you’re not going to be able to stop me so just come with me.”
“And where would that be, Master Richard?”
Dick stilled in his place and turned to see Alfred there, with an unamused look on his face.
“Dick is going to see Slade and make a deal!”
“Master Richard, I strongly advise against that. You know as well as I that Slade is not to be trusted.”
Dick sighed, “You’re not going to change my mind. Either you’re coming with me, or you’re staying.”
Wally and Alfred shared a look. “Alright fine.”
With that, Dick swam out of his hideaway and towards the darkest depths of the ocean.
Throughout the journey, Wally and Alfred tried their hardest to convince Dick to stop and go back and try to talk it out with Bruce. But if they knew anything, Dick was just as stubborn as Bruce if not more so. Getting him to change his mind would take a miracle.
“Master Richard, please listen to reason!” Alfred called as he swam after him.
“You and I both know Bruce is never going to change his mind. I love Kori, but we are just friends.”
“But Dick! This is Slade we are talking about! He–”
“Wally, I will leave you out here in the middle of the ocean if you tell me he is a soul sucking monster one more time.”
The rest of the journey was silent, Dick’s two companions deciding to drop the argument for now.
The further they swam, the darker the water got, until it was almost pitch black with an odd glow off in the distance. A shiver ran up Dick’s spine at the sudden temperature change. He knew they were getting closer because the plant life around them was beginning to die, turning a sick yellow color, before it was all black and wilted.
Pushing himself between a large crack in a cave, Dick came upon the sight of a massive cave with the same purple light shining through the entrance. Taking a deep breath, Dick squared his shoulders and swam towards the entrance.
Wally and Alfred stuck close to Dick’s side, not liking the sudden change in atmosphere. The cave was cold and dark as the three of them slowly made their way through, following the sound of clanging bottles and idle chatter.
Was someone else already here?
Chewing his lip, Dick slowly swam towards the opening in front of them. Having heard lots of stories about Slade, Dick wasn’t sure what to expect. He’s heard that Slade and Bruce used to be friends, there were even rumors that he had something to do with Jason coming back from the dead, and even that he had a hand in many of the other tragedies that happened.
All rumors for the simple fact no one could prove anything, not even Bruce.
The only rumor that reigned true, was the fact Slade was half octopus, cursed by Bruce as punishment for the crimes they could prove against him.
Dick opened his mouth to speak before he was interrupted.
“What brings you here, young prince?”
It was like Dick’s voice was stolen from him. “I–I–” he stammered, trying to come up with a proper answer.
Maybe Alfred and Wally were right, this was a bad idea.
“You want me to help you and your little human friend be together, is that it?”
Dick stared at his back, confusion written all over his face.
“How did you know that?”
A smirk grew on Slade’s face before he turned to look at the young merprince with him.
“They don’t call me Slade the Sea Demon for no reason, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“Sure.”
Dick’s face grew hot. Just who did this octopus bastard think he was? “So what if that’s the reason I’m here?”
Slade’s grin only grew, “So what?” he asked. “It’s the fact you came to me to make a deal,”
Swimming closer, Slade crossed his arms over his chest and stared Dick down. “I know everything that goes on in this ocean, more than Bruce ever did. He doesn’t have the guts to go to the lengths I will to ensure things are running smoothly, and none of them included an arranged marriage.”
Listening to his words, Dick was even more confused. Just what was so bad about him?
“So you know then, I am to be married off to someone I don’t love.”
“Of course I know, I know everything down to the darkest desires of your heart Richard. And that is why you came to me.”
Dick swallowed hard, watching as Slade leaned down in his face. “Then you know what I want.”
“And what is that?”
“I want you to make me human.”
Moving so he was upright, Slade hummed. “For a spell like that, it takes a magically binding contract. Completely unbreakable, even by me.” he explained, pulling one out of thin air and holding the golden document in front of Dick.
“But this isn’t a get a spell for free card kid, I need proper payment for this or you’ll become like everyone else.”
Dick’s face turned uncertain at those words. “What do you mean, like everyone else?”
All Slade did was point behind the three visitors, and it was then Dick saw the garden of dead plants behind them. But dead plants don’t normally have eyes.
They weren’t plants he realized, they were living creatures reaching out for him to help them. Their voices were hoarse and weak, calling out his name like they knew him.
Quickly turning back to Slade, Dick glared. “What did you do to them?” he demanded.
“I did nothing. They didn’t hold up their end of the agreement.”
It was starting to set in that this was probably Dick’s worst idea yet.
“If I were to go through with this, what would you want from me?”
Slade tapped his chin in thought, resting back against his massive cauldron as if he was mulling over his options. “Alright kid, you want me to make you human? Trade your voice for legs, and you will have three days to make this girl fall in love with you. If you fail, you will turn back into a merman, and you will belong to me.”
“I–” he stopped. “You want my voice?”
Slade nodded.
“Without my voice how can I tell her–”
“You’re smart. I’m sure you’ll figure something out with those baby blues of yours.” he grinned.
Dick’s face grew hot, losing his voice couldn’t be that bad. It was a lot better than being forced into a marriage, and Dick knew he loved you and that he would do anything for you.
“I’ll do it.”
“Dick no!”
Before Wally or Alfred could object further, Slade’s tentacles wrapped around them and their mouths effectively shutting them up.
Slade’s face morphed into something Dick couldn’t recognize. “Perfect.”
Pulling out the contract, Slade held it out in front of him with a quill. “Sign the dotted line, and you’ll be human Prince Richard.”
Glancing at his friends, and Slade, Dick hesitated. Was this really the right thing to do?
Feeling the weight of the sea glass around his neck, Dick grasped it in his hand and let out a breath. Grabbing the quill, he signed his name on the dotted line.
Suddenly, the whole cave turned dark and Dick couldn’t see anything. “Remember Richard, three days.” Slade’s voice echoed.
There was a flash followed by a loud crack, and Dick couldn’t breathe anymore. Looking around, he saw Wally and Alfred coming right at him with a worried look on their face. Black spots clouded Dick’s vision. What was going on?
Clinging to Wally and Alfred for dear life, they swam as fast as they could to the surface before Dick drowned. Breaching the surface, Dick held onto Wally as they floated, gasping for air. Glancing down, instead of his tail Dick saw a pair of legs.
An excited expression formed on his face before he turned to his friend. Opening his mouth to speak, Dick frowned as nothing came out.
Slade’s voice echoed in his mind. Dick had three days to kiss you, or he would turn back and be a slave to Slade for all eternity.
What has he done?
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