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#he said early on that knowing her father's identity could put her in danger
elliemarchetti · 1 year
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A Court of Deadly Virtues (Book 1)
Plot: A Court of Mist and Fury retelling from Nesta’s POV, starting from Chapter 39.
This is going to be more canon-divergent further on, but for now every change involves mostly Nesta and Cassian’s relationship.
Part 1 Part 2
Words: 1106
Patience [3/7]
On the day the Mortal Queens agreed to meet at the Archeron Manor, the hostesses decided to wear gowns so elegant they would make their guest pale, but when Feyre showed up in a white chiffon embroidered in gold, both her sisters were left amazed at how ethereal she looked. The High Lord at her side was as always all in black, his wings invisible and a dark crown nested on his head, sister to the golden diadem resting on his beloved’s shiny hair. Whatever was happening between the two of them, it was growing and changing so fast it made Nesta wonder if it was safe, considering what happened the last time her youngest sister gave her heart to a High Lord. The bright side was their father was blissfully unaware and would remain on the Continent for another two months, pursuing vital business from one kingdom to another. If all went according to plan, he would’ve never learned that his own daughters allowed some Fae to use his home as a venue for one of the most dangerous meetings since the Treaty. The tension on Cassian and Azriel’s face was enough to show that if things went badly they could all go to their early grave, and so did the impatience of the newcomer of the group, whom everyone had forgotten to introduce. The two Illyrians, however, often casted sidelong glances at the blonde beauty dressed in red, but she ignored them, stomping her foot on the patterned carpet.
“Welcome,” Rhysand said with placid calm as a mix of women of different ages, colours and heights suddenly appeared in the living room, each with two guards in tow. The eldest of the Queens wore a very dark blue woollen robe, perfectly matching with her sharp, cold eyes. The two who looked middle-aged were at opposite extremes, one dark and one fair, one with a sweet face and the other carved out of granite, one smiling and one frowning. They even wore a white and a black dress, and it seemed as if their movements represented mutual questions and answers, leading Nesta to wonder what their kingdoms were like, what relationship they had and if the identical silver rings they wore connected them in other ways. The younger Queens were something else entirely, one as young as Feyre, who scrutinized everyone with guarded shrewdness and the other, barely thirty, kissed by amber and gold, her body soft where men favoured it but lithe where necessary, graceful yet feline. Nesta was sure she could move entire armies with just a glance, but the Fae weren’t as charmed, and Rhysand advanced towards her stately, proud to have brought with him the Morrigan of the War, whatever that meant.
“Please, take a seat,” said his cousin, as if just accepting her presence made her partly owner of the house. Nesta bit her tongue, forcing herself to be patient in her rebellion until the time was right. If only she had the power, she would’ve already killed all those vain women with her own hands.
“An emissary in a golden crown,” said one of the Queens, casting a sharp look at Feyre. “Is this a Prythian tradition?”
“No,” admitted Rhysand casually, knowing full well there was nothing casual in his choice. “But she’s so pretty in it I couldn’t resist.”
Everyone stiffened, and Nesta wondered if the High Lord realized he just gave their enemies a notion far too succulent to not put it at use. Sure, Feyre proved she could fend for herself just fine even when she was still mortal, but if the idea of these women hurting her because of their connection hadn’t occurred to him, then they all really deserved to die for his arrogance.
“You have an hour,” the older one intervened, pragmatically. “Use it well.”
They talked about many things, but mostly it was a victory for the Queens, although Nesta learned the ability to move from one place to another – it was called transmutation – had been gifted to them along with the half of the Book the Night Court desperately needed as a repayment for what the Fae did to their subjects.
“War is imminent,” Feyre insisted, “yet the humans of this territory seem unaware of the greater threat and we’ve seen no signs of preparations to defend them.”
“This territory,” the golden Queen explained coldly, “is only a tiny strip of land compared to the vastness of the Continent. It’s not in our interest to defend it and waste resources.”
At those words, which were to Nesta and Elain a death sentence, Rhysand objected with reason and compassion, but the golden witch seemed to have an answer to everything and suggested the High Fae of Prythian as their defenders, if they cared so much. A heavy silence fell upon the room, and Nesta wondered if anyone would have the courage to say aloud what everyone was thinking. In the end, cowardice won over the truth, and only Feyre murmured one last plea.
“I’ve been Made by the Seven High Lords because a General of Hybern killed me, but before she did it I saw what horrors she was capable of,” she explained, and the light coming from the outside slightly diminished, as if Rhysand momentarily lost control of his powers. “One of them was enough to cause such destruction and suffering it will leave its mark for decades to come, if we allow a whole army of people like her to destroy the Wall, the consequences will be brutal and the survivors will be enslaves, as will the generations to come.”
Not even her story stirred the Queens’ hearts of stone, and when they were gone, it was Elain who wished for them all to burn in hell. Based on the look in Azriel’s eyes, it seemed like he was about to grant her desire.
“We should really do it,” Cassian growled, close enough for Nesta to hear. “If we kill them, we can crown someone who isn’t so stupid and scared.”
“It would take too long,” Nesta retorted, looking out of the window, hoping Feyre was too caught up in her conversation to notice how close she and the General had actually gotten on his last visit, though nothing of importance actually happened.
“And here I thought I was too quick,” he joked, but Nesta shut him hastily. Everything she needed to know about Tomas’s death came to her via a gossip so fast it outrun the wolves that seemingly attacked and devoured him with unheard-of voracity, their hunger so blind the corpse even missed both its cock and balls.
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capableism · 1 year
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Marlin and disparity between how physical and mental disabilities are treated
Acceptance of one disabled person doesn't exclude the person from ableist beliefs. In Finding Nemo, Dory serves a purpose for Marlin. And 
"The inclusiveness of Marlin and Dory's relationship throughout the entire film is one  that the majority of viewers come to adore." (Draman, 2) 
In Finding Dory, Marlin transitions from accepting to valuing Dory's differences. Finding Dory is about  Dory finding her parents and herself. She learns through this film to be proud of who she is. Early in the quest for Dory's parents, Nemo gets hurt. This immediately brings out Marlin's parental instincts to protect Nemo. He lashes out at Dory when she wants to help and feels sorry for putting Nemo in danger. 
Marlin says, "Go wait over there and forget it's what you do best." 
Marlin is still a  father. His reaction after Nemo gets hurt in line with his character. The problem is the way he said it. It is a comment on her short-term memory loss being a  problem Marlin is annoyed with.  
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From the film's start, Dory's repetitive questions cause Marlin to express how tired he is of it. Because snapping at Dory made sense in the context, the audience could assume Marlin is right to be annoyed at Dory's mental differences, which is ableist. When Nemo and Marlin are in trouble, they ask, "What would Dory do?" because Nemo sees the value of Dory's determination and problem-solving. Marlin is more open to what Nemo says because of the first film's character growth. The dynamic mimics 
The reality of physical disabilities being taken more seriously than mental differences.
As a result, Nemo has increasing empathy for Dory. Nemo reminds Marlin that he pushed Dory away by saying she should go and wait to forget. 
“Marlin tries to shift responsibility for making an ableist remark. The audience can see the consequences of prejudice, how hurtful it can be to those with disabilities, but the audience, as well as Marlin, might still see his remark as factually correct. 
A general audience might see this as evidence that  Dory really is best at forgetting." (Klinowski 54) 
The audience might also see Nemo's perspective as a member of the disabled community. He argues that Marlin pushed Dory away in a condescending way. Disabled people don't serve a purpose to anyone. They have valuable contributions beyond disability inspiration or courage. Nemo knows that and has grown from the first film to be confident and an advocate. 
Where Marlin's statement: "Look if I said that—and I'm not positive that I did— it's actually a compliment because I asked her to wait, and I said it's what you do best...," but he then admits that it was an inappropriate, hurtful comment to make (Finding Dory 00:25:17-00:25:26)." (Klinowski 53) became problematic using a disability as evidence to say a person is good or bad at something reduces their identity and worth to one aspect.
Sources
Draman, Alexa. "Swimming for Inclusion." The Review: A Journal of Undergraduate Student Research 17 (2016): -. Web. https://fisherpub.sjf.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1166&context=ur 
Klinowski, Stacie, "Finding Nemo, Findng Dory, Finding Ourselves: How and Why We Teach Our Children to Think About Disability" (2018). English. 25. https://scholarsarchive.library.albany.edu/honorscollege_eng/25
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aladaylessecondblog · 4 months
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Severed Destiny, Chapter 5
An-Deesei, 3E 425
The Hist does not explain itself.
We would never have thought to tell our Haj-deek of her true identity as early as we were directed to do. We would never have thought to burden a child with destiny. Yet we knew we must...and all we can do now is be there to support her, as we have always been.
I have read the prophecies that Sadara carried among her possessions, and indeed our Haj-deek does fulfill some of them.
Dragon-born--Ebonheart is a distinctly Imperial city, the seat of the emperor's representative in Morrowind.
Far star marked--she has the influence of the sign of the Atronach.
Stark-born, to sire uncertain...we of the mission have worked very hard to ensure no one knows of Haj-deek's parentage. The story we spread, and that everyone seemed to believe, was that she had been left at our door. Whether the father knows of her existence is itself uncertain.
She took to lessons in the Goutfang style quite well, and that strange sailor friend of hers learned alongside her. She has learned that and the art of hand to hand combat, how to move swiftly, and how to fall, from me.
From Onasha, she learned the way to deceive through speech, how to wield a dagger effectively, to sneak, and how to be safe in battle without armor.
From Im-Kilaya, she learned the arts of magic. Mysticism, Alteration, Illusion, and Destruction.
From Ukawei she learned alchemy, restoration, and general medicine.
From On-Wan she learned suffering.
Our hidden slave is safe as can be expected in the circumstances, but now and then still wakes up afraid she is in chains again, and in danger of being whipped or mutilated. We did not know how Haj-deek would handle the sight of it--we often have had her aid us by causing a scene in some way or another to move and hide slaves, but none have stayed with us as long as On-Wan has. She had heard of the horrors of slavery, but not until this point did she see the effects up close.
It discomforted her to see anyone afraid of her, and she set out to make On-Wan more at ease in her presence. It took nearly a year, and patience I thought beyond the years of one so young, but this was managed.
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I was bringing the morning's breakfast down on a tray when I overheard the two of them speaking.
"I may be sent home soon," I heard On-Wan say to Haj-deek, "But the bracers--the bracers, they will not come off. No matter where I am, no matter where I go, I will always be a slave."
And this child...I watched her hold the weeping woman. She seemed uncertain of what to say at first, but she asked, "Who holds the key to your bracers?"
"One of those who works for the D...duke's brother," On-wan said, "He may carry one himself, I do not know."
"And do you know what it looks like?"
"It looks like any other key on the keyring they use. I saw it only once, when they put the bracers on me. But it felt enchanted. Like some evil magic was coursing through it."
Haj-deek stood and walked past me, before I could say anything or warn her against what she was obviously planning to do.
This child will be the death of me, I swear. She may have a hard time deciding what is best, but when she does decide, nothing will dissuade her from her chosen course of action.
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*Haj-deek*
"You little n'chow!"
She ran, the bag clutched in her hands. Behind a Dunmer man chased after her, though he quickly lagged behind. She ducked under some heavy thing a couple of East Empire workers were moving. Breathing hard, she passed between the two warehouses and made her way through the crowd.
The Southern tower was just ahead, and she rushed into the door right behind a Fighters' guild member.
Right up ahead, standing with two guards of his own--
A satisfied smirk spread across the face of Orvas Dren, in front of whom she finally stopped. She was still trying to catch her breath as she stuck her hand into the bag and pulled out a note.
"Something of interest, then?" he asked.
Haj-deek nodded, and handed him the note.
The Dunmer man chasing her caught up just as Orvas was unfolding it, and grabbed her by the shirt collar. Then he looked up at Orvas. "This little brat thinks it's funny to steal from us. I hope you've got something particularly..."
His sentence drifted suddenly off as he looked up and his eyes landed on the note.
"Yes, that IS quite serious," Orvas said. He looked at Haj-deek and asked, "Did you steal from my hired sword?"
"I did," she admitted it quietly, and kept her voice meek.
"You are quite sure it was this one you stole from?"
"Yes, serjo."
"Hmm, well..." Orvas gestured, and three guards she hadn't seen on the way in moved up suddenly behind the one who'd been chasing her. "This note looks rather important. Let me see here...'A hundred thanks to you for the information regarding the skooma shipment. This will greatly hinder the spread of that foul poison in the future."
His head snapped up, and Haj-deek saw the satisfied expression shift to one of silent fury.
"...signed...V." The note was instantly crumbled in his fist. "I gave you the opportunity of a lifetime. A foothold in my organization. And you spit in my face by double-crossing me?"
Orvas looked past the man and jerked his head upward. Two of the three guards moved forward, each taking one of the man's arms.
"SHE wrote that! I had nothing to do with it!"
"You've been very helpful," Orvas ignored him and turned to Haj-deek, "And I reward those who make themselves useful. But I've got a great deal to take care of...so perhaps I can simply owe you a favor."
Haj-deek nodded. "A favor from you could be very useful."
"Smart girl," he gave her a grin, "Keep this up and perhaps in a few years you could find yourself in a quite lucrative job."
Again she nodded, and at another gesture of his she headed back out the door. Not until she was nearly at the Six Fishes did she take the bag back out. There were a few gold in it, a stick or two of scrib jerky, a random chunk of onyx, a common amulet...
...but at the bottom was what she was truly after.
An iron key with a slight shimmer over it.
"There you are!"
She stiffened suddenly on hearing a voice behind her, but relaxed when she realized who it was. When she turned she saw--Khev. The fear she'd felt only a moment before faded slowly, but she gave him a smile nonetheless.
"Khev...I didn't know you were in Ebonheart. I thought surely--"
"Well, sometimes the ships move more quickly than you expect," he replied. "I won't be here long, in fact I have to be going tonight...but I remembered that your birthday was tomorrow, and thought I'd drop by and hand over the gift I've been saving for you."
"You didn't have to get me anything, but...I won't say no to whatever you've got."
From the bag at his side, Khev drew out--
"A boiled netch leather helm?" Haj-deek, having expected almost anything, did not expect this. "It's not like I'm ungrateful! It's just..."
"I only want to say this," Khev's voice, usually happy, turned suddenly serious, "I've read up on what...you being what you are means. Having a helmet that covers your face will be handy."
"Because of the ash and blight storms?"
"Well, that too, but..." His expression was suddenly...strange. Like he wanted to say something, but at the same time he didn't. "...eventually, you might come to meet Almalexia. If you never show her your face, she won't remember it."
"But she'd still know that I was..."
Something felt off. Haj-deek felt a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't telling her everything. He must've noticed, because he quickly added, "I didn't want to tell you this. But...I spoke to a fortuneteller a few days past for my own...amusement, and she had a few things to say about you."
Now he just looked sheepish.
"Like what?" she moved closer, and watched his face.
"I can't remember all of it," he replied quickly, "But I remember one thing in specific, I assume you'll know what it means better than I do. Exactly this: There are perhaps ten people alive in Morrowind who know the face she wears. The goddess is one of them.'"
Haj-deek stiffened.
"So you DO know what she means?"
"...maybe," Haj-deek replied. "I...I'll have to think about it."
Khev nodded, and handed her the helmet. Then he drew something else out--a pocket watch, it looked like, but it was shaped almost like a gear, and had a number of similar designs on its back. He popped it open, and she leaned over it to see what the inside looked like.
It was transparent. There was nothing in it that was not made of the brassy (Dwemer?) metal, and she could see through the clock face itself. The inside lid, however, was solid, and had a swirling design broken only by two words that had been inscribed along the outer edge: from odros
"Where'd you ever find this? It's amazing!"
"Oh," Khev smiled weakly, "From someone in a port I no longer visit."
He hurried off soon after, and Haj-deek herself went on back to the Argonian Mission.
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You must depart two years hence, Azura had said to her. Today was her birthday, but tomorrow would be the real start.
She didn't want to go at all, but...it wasn't as if that was an option. For better or ill, the Moon-and-star marked her as the Nerevarine.
Just before she had entered the Mission, Sunchaser had caught up with her. She had named the cliffracer for its tendency to want to fly out in the direction of the sunrise on the mornings after the nights it spent sleeping inside. It followed her in, and though Im-Kilaya had never grown happy about having it there, he would tolerate the beast.
"Is that yours?" Im-Kilaya spoke after looking away from the cliffracer, and was indicating the bag in her hands.
"No, but--and no, no one's going to come after me. The one that stole this double-crossed somebody else."
"And you...told them about it?"
She nodded.
"If it's one of those Camonna Tong people...you know they're dangerous, don't you? They're not people you want to get mixed up with."
"I know, I know! But...I found something On-Wan might be interested in." She reached into the bag, and produced the key. "It might not even be the right one, but he worked for--look, it's not important. There's nothing to worry about."
She hoped so, anyway.
With Sunchaser following close behind she went down the stairs, and opened the door to On-Wan's little room. The runaway lifted her head from the lunchtime bowl of stew she was eating.
"Is this your key?" Haj-deek asked, lifting the iron key. "I can wait until you're done eating if you'd prefer."
But On-Wan put the bowl aside immediately, and rushed over. Haj-deek slid the key into the lock of the left bracer. She jiggled it a bit--it turned--
And the left bracer fell to the floor. In awed silence did On-Wan wait as Haj-deek repeated it with the other bracer.
"Seizo...you have done it..." On-Wan shakily looked down at both her hands, free for the first time in a long time of those hateful bracers. "You did not have to."
"I did," Haj-deek said quietly. "No one else could, if I didn't."
"May the Hist bless you, child. Free...I can be truly free now."
They shared a smile then, and a second later, a hug.
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"Tomorrow, you will begin your journey," An-Deesei said, "And while we would prefer you did not need to begin it at all...we know that you must."
She and Im-Kilaya seemed to have decided to be the ones to give her this last talk.
"And so we have gifts for you. All of your mother's possessions will be yours now...and we are certain you will need them at some point or another."
Their gifts were sentimental ones. The stuffed guar she had loved so well as a babe that it no longer had either of its button eyes, and whose legs had been patched too many times to count. A clay print of her foot as a baby. The copy of The Sleepy Little Nix-Hound she had read so often that the spine was falling apart.
She smiled at the sight of each one, and tucked them all gingerly away.
"We know," Im-Kilaya said, "We know what you seek from this journey."
"We have done our best for you, but we know..."
"You're still my family," Haj-deek said quickly, "Even if he is my father, even if I make...if I'm able to...you're still my family. You always will be."
Im-Kilaya looked momentarily misty-eyed, so it was An-Deesei who spoke next.
"We could give you weapons or armor, but your mother had several of each which are now yours. We would have given you an amulet, but..."
"It's alright that you didn't," she said. "What is some urchin from the streets of Ebonheart going to do with a pretty bauble?"
"You are MORE than that, and you know it. So our final gift to you is not a weapon, a piece of armor, or trinket of any sort. Our final gift to you is something far more valuable."
An-Deesei turned to Im-Kilaya, who was wiping his eyes. He took from the front pocket of his robes a vial, which he handed to her, and which was then given to Haj-deek.
The vial was relatively small, full of a thin, watery golden liquid.
"Hist Sap?" she asked.
"You already know the rules," An-Deesei said to her. "No more than one drop at a time, and no having it more often than three or perhaps four times a year at the most. You know the dangers of a non-Saxhleel ingesting the sap. But this is our gift, and the Hists' as well. We are not blood, but we ARE your family. Through love...and through the Hist."
Haj-deek smiled, and came forward to hug both of them.
(Im-Kilaya could no longer hold back the tears.)
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starwarsgirl198 · 2 years
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I commissioned this from a friend on her Valentine's Day Commissions, I know it's early but I couldn't wait! I just had to show this! Kano Kerrigan and Kalene Vernius met sometime during the Clone Wars, he had been caught trying to smuggle the Black Orchid (Faberian Orchid) which is a crime that normally ends in the person being put to death. Knowing that Kano isn't of her species and therefore didn't know the law, Kalene had make him an offer of either smuggling the prepared powder version of the orchid or be handed over to CIS. She doesn't tell him why the intact and raw orchid is't safe but she does hint that it is dangerous and outlanders would not be able to handle a Black Orchid Outbreak. Kano begrudging takes the former deal and Kalene goes with him, to the vocal disagreement of some of her older siblings. This is the start of an unlikely friendship between the Empress Regnant and the Smuggler that later turns into a romance that would bring two children into the world: Kestra Vernius (Kerrigan) and five years later, Kaden Vernius (Kerrigan). ----------------------------------------------------------------------   Kalene Nerys was standing on one of the lower levels of Coruscant, leaning against the railing and staring down. Her brown eyes scanned the speeders that were driving below her as the civilians around her went about her life.    Not realizing that the Empress Regnant of the Faberian Empire stood amongst them.    They were used to seeing her in a white gown with her hair and makeup done, they wouldn't look twice at a seemingly normal human woman. Her black hair, brown eyes and tanned complexion helped her blend in. There were many humans who had the same coloring as she and her people did, and unless you were Force-sensitive you wouldn't be able to tell that she was a Faberian.    According to Jedi, Faberians felt different in the Force. Neither dark or light, they had a deeper connection to the Force than either Sith or Jedi.    "Looking for the meaning of life?"    Kalene blinked before she looked over her shoulder at the man who had managed to sneak up at her.    Kano Kerrigan smirked when he noticed that he had managed to sneak up on a Force-sensitive, "What's this? Don't tell me that I was able to sneak up on you. I thought you were always paying attention."    "I was thinking."    "About?"    "My people and how we're able to blend in plain sight." Kalene turned around and leaned against the railing, her hands bracing on it.    Kano moved closer and placed his hand on the railing next to her as he stood next to her but it was enough to tell the men that had been staring at Kalene that she was taken.    The men looked away with envy but the two ignored them as they enjoyed each other's presence. These meetings were rare and done in secret, not out of shame and embarrassment but out of protectiveness. Kalene knew that Kano would be in danger if anyone knew about him, she also knew that he could take care of himself but this was something ingrained in her.    If Kalene was to become pregnant, the identity of the father of her child would be kept between herself, the father and her family. It was to keep them safe from those who would harm them or use the child against the parents. Any child of the Royal family was to be kept safe though none more so than any child of Kalene.    Any female child would be her heir.    "Makes me wonder how many that I had came across and not realize that they weren't from here."    Kalene smiled and said, "We're really good at hiding in plain sight."    "No kidding." Kano said with a laugh. "I remember on that first mission we had that you surprised the officer by revealing who you were when he started to give us a hard time." It had been amusing to see that man immediately cower when Kalene got into her Empress Regnant mode. Kano rarely had the mode directed at him after their first initial meeting. Though Kalene had still been somewhat nicer to him than she had been with that officer.    But that could because Kano didn't make any sexist comments to her like the officer had been doing, he was just sarcastic and defiant. Little did he know that was an attractive quality in a male to a female of her race and if you include scars than you were a winner in their book. He was honestly surprised that she didn't attack the officer with the Force but then he remembered Jira telling him that they only use the Force against other Force Users. With non-Force Users, they would use either weapons or hand to hand combat.    They were honorable and to use the Force against someone who couldn't defend against it would be considered dishonorable.    Another reason why Kalene only used the Force to sense Kano's presence, she never used it to read his mind or emotions. He couldn't return the normal Faberian courtship behavior. Kirren and Kizira had helped with that because between the rest of her older siblings, they were the only two who was married to an Outlander.    Kalene's hand on his cheek pulled him from his thoughts.    "Where were you?"    "Sorry, I was just thinking about that officer." Kano said. "I wouldn't want to get on your bad side and have you threaten me."    She eyed him before she gently cupped the back of his head, she gently lowered his head until their foreheads gently touched. It was a silent vow of love and loyalty. It could be either used on friends or lovers but it was never done lightly.    Kalene pulled away and said, "You have no reason to fear. You are nothing like him or your father."    Kano smiled slightly and pressed a kiss onto her forehead, she was always able to tell what he was thinking before he even thought it. He had never told her much about his father, and she was confused about the whole thing. She was from a close knitted family so it just didn't make sense to her when she sees families who don't get along and hate each other. Kalene was really good at reading body language and facial expressions of non-Force-sensitives. Then he threw his arm over her shoulder, pulling her against his side as he asked, "So what sort of trouble will you be dragging me into today?"    "Excuse me?" Kalene asked feigning offense as she wrapped her arm around his waist. "That's the other way around, Kerrigan. You are always dragging me into trouble."    "Me? I'm totally innocent!" Kano said with a smirk.    Kalene just shook her head as they walked away. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ This is one of their meetings when they began their romantic relationship. She is both his friend and lover, and the same goes for him with Kalene. That is how it goes with all Faberian relationships. Kalene looks very different when she has makeup on and her hair is done so no one would look twice at her when she wears normal clothing. Kano thinks Kalene look good no matter what she's wearing. Kano is called Emperor Consort when he goes to Faber with his wife, Kalene was amused by his reaction when he first heard that title. It had been Tendra who had called him that. Nerys is the name the Vernius family use when they are blending in since the Vernius last name is well known and will have a bounty on it. It was a surname that Marrika had first started to use. Qatai has this aura about her that tells anyone who isn't Force-sensitive that she's dangerous and can kill you in a way where it looks like it was an accident, she is only dangerous to those who had harmed her family. Her family feel safe around her, Kalene has no problem leaving her daughter and later her son in Qatai's care. Kano belongs to Kalene belongs to me
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takadasaiko · 4 years
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Love Me Twice Chapter One Sneak Peek #2
“He’s stubborn. He comes by it naturally enough.”
Red and Dembe discuss Red’s decision to have Tom’s memory of the bones altered.
                                              —————
Story Summary: After saving Tom’s life, Red has a memory specialist attempt to alter the memory of what he found in the DNA test linked to the bones. Something goes wrong in the process that costs Tom 10 years worth of memories. With no recollection of Liz, Agnes, or anything that they’ve all been through, Tom - Jacob Phelps - escapes back to St Regis to recover and resume the career he doesn’t realize that he left.
Two and a half years later he is hired by a mystery woman to watch and protect Special Agent Elizabeth Keen from the threats that surround her. It doesn’t take long for him to realize there’s a connection there, and Tom finds himself starting down the path to try to recover his missing memories and rediscover who he had become before he lost them.
The story will begin posting on Friday, June 5, 2020 on AO3, FFN, and here on Tumblr! 
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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years
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Burn The Witch 2 - First Impressions [Bucky Barnes x Reader]
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback to the first chapter my loves ! ❤ Here’s chapter 2, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤
Word Count: 2500
Warnings: Mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language.
Summary: First impressions can be wrong.
Chapter 1 
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Being a spy for years had taught you to be able to tell whether a mission would be dangerous or not before they even sent you there.
For example, the mission they had put you on three years ago where you had to poison the target in a very crowded ballroom while pretending to be an artifacts expert was a dangerous one.
Or five years ago when you had quite literally brought a dagger into a gun fight in a storage unit, that was also quite dangerous.
But something told you that going after Bucky Barnes would be the most dangerous mission you’d ever had so far, and you weren’t even going to be engaged in a fight.
Instead you were expected to make him fall in love with you, which-
To be honest, engaging in a fight would’ve been much easier.
“This is unacceptable.” Your best friend paced in the empty conference room while you nibbled on the chocolate, keeping your eyes on your phone. “You should’ve said no.”
“I can’t say no, it’s a mission.”
“No, it’s my father treating you like a—like a—“ she threw her hands up, “Honey trap!”
You shrugged your shoulders, scrolling down on the screen but then looked up when she snapped her fingers in front of your eyes.
“Y/N!”
“Chloe if I nail this mission, I’ll get the position I want. I could be a handler next year, do you know how big that is?”
“You need to stop pretending like you’re fine with this.”
“You’re sending me the files tonight right?” you asked, ignoring her huff of impatience and she sat down, crossing her arms.
“Yes,” she said, “Everything there is to know about Bucky Barnes is in there, lots of things you could use. I gathered it myself. His past, his interests back then, what he has been doing since he got here, his favorite porn, his favorite musicians—“
“I’m sorry, what was that last one?”
“His favorite musicians?” she played dumb, grinning and you shifted your weight.
“You wouldn’t do that background check on me, would you?”
Her grin widened as she wiggled her brows, “Just so you know, you’re such a cliché.”
“Jesus Christ.” You slipped a little in your seat, your cheeks burning, “I hate you so much.”
“No you don’t,” she sang and you tried to focus on the screen, but the door to the conference room opened, gathering your attention. Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw the figure stepping inside and you jumped on your feet as Chloe gasped.
“Keith?”
Keith was the third member of your small friend group. He was a field agent just like you were, and for years you, Chloe and Keith had always had each other’s backs, in or outside of missions.
Back at the academy you were inseparable and it had been months since you had last seen him.
“Figured I’d find you two here,” he said, “I just followed the scent of despair.”
“I thought you were still in Prague!” You rushed to hug him and he ruffled your hair before you batted his hand away.
“I was but I got called in at 5 in the morning. General’s orders.”
“It was about time my father did something right.” Chloe came to kiss his cheek, making him grin, “Gosh, it’s so good to have you back!”
“Good to be back, gorgeous,” he lifted her up in a hug before setting her down as she squealed, “I missed you.”
Your jaw dropped when you saw the file in his hand, “Hold on. Is that what I think it is?”
“It could be,” he told you, “That is, if you’ll have me in your mission.”
“The best news I got since I landed.” You pumped your fist in the air “Yes! Yes I do want you in the mission!”
“So then,” he said as he sat beside you and put his feet up on the table while you leaned back, “Is what I heard true?”
“Yes and you need to tell her she’s being ridiculous,” Chloe motioned at you and Keith pursed his lips.
“I just thought we put this whole honey trap thing behind us back in 1950s.”
“Exactly!”
“Guys come on, if Accords pass—screw that, even if they don’t pass, think about how we can use Barnes.”
Keith clicked his tongue, tilting his head.
“Will we use him more than we’re using you right now?” he asked and you rolled your eyes, grabbing the file in his hand.
“Your alias is Whistler this time?”
“Yep,” he nodded, “General says yours is Shrike?”
“Mm hm.”
“Considering what this Barnes mission entails, I’m surprised he didn’t call you Swallow.”
You kicked at his boot and he let out a laugh, holding his hands up.
“What? That was the terminology back in the day for agents seducing people for the mission, wasn’t it? Raven for guys, swallow for girls.”
“Hilarious,” you deadpanned and Chloe sat on the table, still pouting.
“You’re both fine with this then?”
“Chloe, the guy was around in World War 2,” you said patiently, “If I don’t want to sleep with him, I’ll just tell him I’m waiting for marriage, it’s probably not a foreign concept for him, old times and all. Happy?”
She arched a brow, “If you say so,” she said, “But you know there are examples of undercover agents falling for their targets, right? Especially in situations like these.”
Keith chuckled, “Yeah, that’d make a great story for your grandchildren.”
“Except that I wouldn’t get to have those grandchildren because I’d be killed.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Just let me know beforehand if the Winter Soldier decides to make an honest woman out of you,” Keith said and you stuck your tongue out at him.
“Look at you, making jokes.”
“I’m a funny guy, thank you very much,” he said, “So what are we doing tonight?”
“Killing some Hydra scum,” you said, “There’s this gallery opening, apparently evil guys love art nowadays. Who knew?”
“You need a spotter?”
“Sure thing.”
“After you guys are done killing that target, can we hang out?” Chloe asked, “We need to catch up.”
“Only if I get to pick the movie,” Keith made a face, “I don’t trust your taste after the last time.”
“10 Things I Hate About You is a classic!”
“Do you want to hear the one thing I hate about you, Chloe? Spoiler, it’s your taste in movies.”
“Play nice, kids,” you said, skimming the lines on the screen and Chloe huffed.
“Fine. And after that, we can work on the seduction mission.”
“You’re in on that as well?” Keith asked and Chloe nodded.
“Duh.”
“Look at us, Charlie’s Angels is back.” Keith said, “Wait, does that mean General is Charlie?”
You supressed a laugh and shook your head fondly, looking at Keith.
“I missed you, asshole.”
“Missed you too, trouble.”
                                                       ***
Working for the division you did had its advantages, and it never stopped to surprise you how you could always get the newest gadgets before going on missions. Chloe had installed certain features into your “sniper costume” as she put it, and one of them was a ring that would call the nearby agents of your team to your location, and the other one was a ski mask that was both bulletproof and could change your voice.
“Batman does it, why not you?” she had said before making you try it.
“Shrike, ma’am?” Keith’s voice echoed in your ear and you adjusted your earpiece before checking the harness around your waist, just in case you needed to jump off the building. Your team was already in position if you were in any way compromised, and you started setting your sniper rifle.
“Since when do you call me ma’am?” you asked Keith and he chuckled.
“Since they put you in charge of a team.”
“Don’t listen to him, guys,” you said to the rest of the team and took a look at the city lights, taking a deep breath.
Rooftops were always peaceful, even when you were holding a sniper rifle.
“ETA of the target?”
“Two minutes.” Keith said and you pressed your lips together, pointing the rifle at the entrance of the gallery, looking through the scope.
“So I think I found a movie for tonight,” Keith said as you shook your head slightly, trying to focus.
“Later.”
“James Bond?” he asked, “We can take a shot every time the movie gets something wrong about being a spy. We’ll probably be hammered by the end of the night.”
“One minute, Shrike.” One of the agents said and you exhaled through your mouth, your finger on the trigger.
“No seriously, don’t you guys like James Bond? I think it’s because of that movie I chose this line of work, but—“ Keith was cut off when you pulled the earpiece out of your ear to have a moment of silence so that you could concentrate when the target arrived, but as soon as you grabbed the rifle again, you heard the familiar sound of someone racking the slide of a gun, followed by a calm voice.
“Easy there,” he said, “Put the rifle down.”
You cursed at yourself in your head, then withdrew your hands from the rifle. Your earpiece was off, meaning that no one in your team could hear you, and you checked whether you could grab the gun from him, but he wasn’t standing close enough.
Professional.
You held up your hands, then slowly turned to see who was threatening you before your heart dropped to your stomach.
Damn it.
This was definitely not the way you were supposed to meet Bucky Barnes.
Thankfully you were wearing a ski mask, so your identity wouldn’t be compromised and the next time you met him, you could pretend.
And he would be none the wiser.
You pressed on the ring Chloe had given you to alert the others, keeping your eyes on the barrel of the gun.
“I thought I saw a glimpse of a scope.”
“Congratulations,” you deadpanned, trying to stall so that your team could get there, “You want a watch as a prize? A refrigerator?”
He looked almost surprised at your snarky comment and you shrugged your shoulders.
“Listen, it’s my target. So if you want to kill him, too bad. I was here first, early bird and all that, shoo.”
Even you could see his confusion that lasted for a second and a small smile pulled at your lips.
“Ah. You don’t know who my target is.”
“I know I’m not going to let you kill someone in a pretty crowded gallery.”
“Even if it’s some Hydra scum?” you asked and he pulled back.
“What?”
You stole a look at the entrance of the gallery over your shoulder as the limo pulled over.
“Mm hm. You really shouldn’t be stopping me Barnes. We got this, you can go and play the superhero with Wilson.”
“You know who I am.”
“Everyone knows who you are,” you stated, making him pause for a moment.
“I didn’t catch your name.”
You tut tutted, “Don’t be greedy.”
“Well, how do I know you’re not lying about your target if you can’t even give me your name?”
“Why would I lie about my target?”
“So that I would let you shoot him.”
“Aw, you’re cute,” you taunted him, tilting your head, “But I don’t recall asking for your permission.”
He stared at you for a couple of seconds.
“Who are you?” he asked and you grinned as you heard the footsteps coming closer.
“Until next time, soldier.” You said as the team burst through the door, guns blazing. He turned around to point his gun at the agents, immediately taking cover as you picked up the rifle again.
It was time to get back to work.
You looked through the scope, found the target and pulled the trigger, blood splattering over the walls and chaos erupted over the street instantly, people screaming and running everywhere. You looked over your shoulder to see your team managing to keep Barnes busy with the constant gunshots, then you checked the harness around your waist again and jumped over the roof to land on top of the car waiting for you in the street. The rope went up to the roof as you unbuckled it and got into the car, pulling the ski mask off your face.
“You weren’t compromised, right?” Keith asked and you shook your head.
“I’m not an amateur,” you said as he stepped on the gas, the car breezing through the road. 
“You don’t look so happy,” Keith said after taking a look at you and you pursed your lips together, deep in thought.
“He didn’t take me hostage.”
“Hm?”
“When the team burst through the door and I turned around to kill the target. He’s a super soldier, he could’ve grabbed me, use me as a leverage to get out of there. That’s what I’d do but he didn’t attack me or the team, he took cover.”
“So?”
“Keith, it’s the fucking Winter Soldier we’re talking about. He can kill a team of agents in seconds, but I bet he just got out of there. Without hurting anyone.”
“Maybe he’s just a good person.” Keith chuckled and you slipped a little in the seat, biting at your fingernails.
“I guess.”
“Would it be so bad?”
“It would make no difference,” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the city lights, “Good person or not, he’s my mission.”
“Clearly, but aren’t you going to feel just a little guilty if he ends up being a good guy?”
You scoffed a laugh and turned to him.
“I’m no use to anyone if I develop a guilty conscience,” you stated, “Much less to myself. You know that.”
A silence fell upon the car before he heaved a sigh.
“Listen, Chloe has a point as always,” he said, “These kind of missions are hard, okay? The longer you’re playing your part, the easier it will be to believe it. Feelings get involved, there are bunch of agents who ended up hesitating when it was time to bring their target in, so if you—“
“I won’t hesitate.”
“Y/N.”
“I won’t hesitate,” you repeated, “I swear. The minute this mission is over, I’ll bring him in. Orders are orders.”
Keith let out a whistle, “If you say so.”
You bit inside your cheek and leaned your head on the window, fixing your gaze outside.
“Considering the lack of alternatives,” you rasped out, “Yeah. Yeah I do say so.”  
Chapter 3 
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marauderundercover · 3 years
Text
Taking Chances Ch. 19: Lack of Communication (Wayne Gala)
AO3
Prev
The shrill ringing of her phone tugs Marinette from her sewing machine. Glancing at the caller ID, she grins widely.
“Hey Uncle Jagged.” She says, pushing her chair away from her desk. It’d been a couple weeks since she last heard from the man as his tour had really picked up at the end. It was practically back to back concerts, so that didn’t leave a lot of time for phone calls or face times.
“Little Rocker! Glad I caught you. I have an event next week and I was hoping I could drop by the bakery so you could fix a tear in one of my suits.” He says. Marinette winces. That’s what she was supposed to do. Tell Uncle Jagged about...well, everything.
“Yeah, about that…” She trails off, wishing she’d thought to tell him about the whole ‘adopted’ thing the last time she’d seen him in person. “I’m actually not in Paris right now. I’m in Gotham spending the summer with my birth father.” She says, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. There’s silence for a minute. Then two. She looks down at the phone, frowning. Did he hang up?
“You’re in Gotham?” He finally says.
“Yup.” She says, sighing. “I’m really sorry I won’t be able to fix your suit.”
“What, no, this is great! See the event is in Gotham! It’s just a bunch of rich people and- hold on. Penny!” He yells. She catches bits and pieces of their conversation, Penny agreeing wholeheartedly with whatever it is Jagged has suddenly decided. “I have a rocking idea.” He adds.
“Okay? I’m listening.” She says, glancing at the new dress she’d started that was pinned on her dress form. She was having trouble with the shape and was quickly getting frustrated with her struggles.
“You could come with! As MDC, of course. You could wear one of your designs and get known in Gotham. The event is supposed to be highly publicized. Penny thinks it’d be a good way to get known in the US. So, whatdya say?” Jagged asks, and Marinette can just tell that he’s grinning widely, can hear it in his voice. She thinks for a minute, glancing at the dress form with a new sense of determination.
“I’ll have to double check with my dad.” She says, trying to think if they had any plans for next week.
“Of course! Let me know soon, okay? Penny says she wants to start publicizing MDC’s appearance if you’re gonna come.” Jagged says. Marinette agrees before hanging up, thinking. Would her dad let her go alone? Or would he insist on coming with? She knew Gotham was dangerous, it’s why she hadn’t gone anywhere by herself despite being a hero herself. She didn’t want to risk her Miraculous falling into the wrong hands, even if the person didn’t realize what they had. Making up her mind, she sets off to find her dad and ask about the event. She still wasn’t quite sure what it was, just that there would be plenty of big names and plenty of journalists- the perfect opportunity to build up a clientele outside of France. Checking his study first, she’s unsurprised to see he’s not there. Knowing chances were good that he was in the cave, she pulls a domino mask out of her purse. Her dad had asked her a couple days ago to wear one in the cave just in case they had unexpected visitors. Kinda like how her and Chat Noir had shown up unexpectedly that one time. Complete accident. Changing the time on the clock, she presses the button that opens the entrance, sliding in and walking through the passage. Glancing into the cave, she grins when she sees her dad, in costume, sitting at the computer.
“Hey B!” She says, knowing not to call him Dad while he was in the cowl. Something about it making him seem less intimidating, or something.
“Ladybird.” He nods. She frowns, glancing at the computer screen and wincing when she sees Superman on screen.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.” She apologizes, waving awkwardly at the man on the screen. He quirks an eyebrow.
“Hello. Ladybird, was it?” He asks and she nods.
“Er, yeah. Ladybird. Nice to meet you.” She says, rocking back and forth on her heels, eyes darting around the cave. Maybe she should just leave and ask later.
“Is everything alright?” Her dad asks, obviously confused at her presence in the cave. Not that she wasn’t allowed, she just didn’t spend a lot of time there.
“I was just wondering if I could go to an event next week with my Uncle.” She says, trying to stay vague. He’s silent for a moment before nodding.
“We can discuss details later, but that should be fine.” He says. Marinette grins, bouncing up and down in excitement.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cheers, resisting the urge to hug him. “Bye Mr. Superman!” She adds, waving before running back through the passage to work on her dress some more. This was going to be amazing!
---
Penny had picked Marinette up early the morning of the Gala. She still wasn’t sure what it was for, but that didn’t bother her. She was just excited that she had finally finished her newest dress in time for the Gala. Penny had insisted on her coming over early so that she could help Marinette do her hair and makeup, which she was thankful for. Selina apparently had something to do tonight and couldn’t help her, and she would’ve definitely been her first choice. Smiling down at her dress, Marinette looks at Penny with a grin.
“Could you take a picture for me without my face covering so I can show my parents later?” She asks. Penny nods, smiling back.
“That dress is amazing, Marinette. Truly one of your best designs.” She says. Marinette blushes at the compliment before smiling at the camera. She thanks Penny and takes her phone back, sending the picture to her Maman and Papa as well as her dad and Selina. She was extremely proud of the dress and wanted them to see her in it before she added her ‘disguise’ to protect her identity.
“Hey, Aunt Penny?” Marinette says, looking up at the woman. Penny hums, putting on lipstick. “What is the event for? All Jagged said was that it’s a Gala.” She says, Penny huffs.
“Of course that man didn’t give you any other information. Honestly, sometimes- you agreed without knowing what the event was?” She says, eyebrows raised. Marinette shrugs.
“Uncle Jagged said that it’d be fun. I trust him.” She says. Penny sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Remind me to read any contracts before you sign them, okay sweetie?” She says. Marinette nods and Penny smiles. “Good. Anyway, it’s a Wayne Gala. The family hosts several every year to help raise money for the Wayne foundation.” Penny says and Marinette freezes. Wayne Gala? As in, her father? Her family? Were they really having a Gala tonight without telling her? Or inviting her? Were they….were they embarrassed by her?
“Like, Bruce Wayne?” Marinette manages to ask, trying hard to ignore the way her heart breaks when Penny nods. That was why Selina couldn’t help her. She had to get ready for the Gala. And if she had to guess, the rest of her family was also going. What would they have done with her if she hadn’t had plans? Would they have told her then? Or would they have acted like nothing was happening. Where even was the Gala? Oh my god. It was at the Manor, wasn’t it. The thought strikes her and she winces, giving Penny a small, tense smile.
“Are you okay?” She asks, obviously concerned. Marinette nods sharply.
“Yes, one last question. Where is it?” She asks. Penny frowns, obviously not believing that Marinette was okay, but luckily not pushing it.
“Wayne Manor. The Galas are the only time the manor is opened to other celebrities. The family is usually very private.” Penny says. Marinette huffs out a puff of air, working hard to ignore the hurt in her chest. The feeling that she wasn’t enough. That they didn’t need her. Suddenly, she wasn’t excited anymore. She really wished she would have asked Jagged for more details last week, because now she was stuck going. And it was going to suck.
---
Feeling confident in her design and disguise, Marinette walks through the wall of journalists with Penny and Jagged at her sides. She was working hard to push down the intrusive thoughts that were threatening to take over. Instead, she tried to focus on the questions being called out by the journalists.
“Jagged! Jagged Stone, is this really MDC?” One of them asks. Jagged immediately stopping and shooting the reporter a wide smile.
“Of course it is! She designed all three of these outfits.” He says, gesturing between the trio. “Isn’t she rocking!”
“MDC, why did you pick the Wayne gala to make your first public appearance?” Another journalist asks. Marinette turns to Penny, trusting her to answer the question. They’d agreed before leaving the car that it was best if Marinette didn’t speak directly to any journalists. It would make it easier for them to place her age and where she’s from, given her accent.
“She was in the area and Mr. Stone insisted his favorite designer needed a chance to flaunt her skills in America.” Penny says, flashing the journalist a wide smile before gently pushing Marinette along down the line of journalists. Marinette nods to the man who’d asked the question before following Jagged and Penny closely, her stomach churning as they walk up the front steps of the manor. Of the place she’d been living since summer started. Where apparently they didn’t care to tell her about one of the biggest family events of the year. No big deal. She thought they were accepting her, that they were all getting closer. But maybe not. Her dad not telling her didn’t hurt nearly as much as her brothers not telling her. That felt like a knife in her chest. Trying hard to move gracefully instead of tensely, she follows Jagged into the manor and into the ballroom. Her jaw clenches as she spots her family across the room.
“Mr. Stone, I’m Clark Kent. Nice to meet you.” A man with a notebook and camera says, walking over and extending a hand. Marinette narrows her eyes. She thought the journalists were supposed to stay outside. And this man looked oddly familiar….
“Rocking meeting you man! You a journalist?” He asks, his calculating look hidden by a wide grin. Mr. Kent chuckles.
“Yes, sorry for being so forward. Mr. Wayne and I are friends, so he lets my wife and I have an exclusive pass to come inside the Galas.” He says, glancing at Marinette over his glasses. She watches as his eyes widen slightly before he schools his features back into a neutral expression.
“That’s pretty rock n roll of him!” Jagged says, clapping Mr. Kent on the shoulder.
“It is. Pardon me, but are you MDC?” He asks, turning to look at Marinette once again. She glances at Penny, shaking her head to let her know that she’ll speak for herself for this one. As upset as she was with her dad, he obviously trusted this man. So she would as well.
“I am. Pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Kent.” She says, extending her hand. He smiles, shaking her hand.
“And you, ma’am. I must say, I was not expecting to see you here. I was under the impression that in person events weren’t your forte.” He says, clearly fishing for something. She knew how journalists worked, she’d seen Alya at work enough times to understand that the man in front of her was looking for a story. One she wouldn’t be giving, no matter how much her father trusted the man.
“I like to occasionally surprise people.” She says, waving her hand in a noncommittal way. “Keep them on their toes.”
“I can respect that. Well, I’ll let you all get back to your evening. Nice to meet you all.” He says. She nods back at him, not missing the way he immediately darts off to her dad. She watches as the two start talking, a surprised look on her dad’s face before he turns and sees her. She knows he recognizes the dress. Knows that he knows as well who is underneath the veil. She turns, deciding to ignore him. He didn’t want her here, fine. She’d make sure she stayed out of his way.
---
Clark Kent was confused. He’d known that Bruce must have another kid, adopted in some way. He didn’t just work with random vigilantes, especially not in his city. So knowing that Gotham had a new vigilante named Ladybird, he put two and two together. Didn’t take the world’s greatest detective. But what was confusing was the fact that no new faces showed up with the Waynes as they walked into the ballroom for the Gala. Making a note to ask him about it later, Clark makes his way around the room, talking to familiar faces and names, writing things down that would help the story he was being forced to write on the Gala. These events were not his favorite to cover, hardly anything ever happened. Until he heard the commotion outside, other journalists calling out to MDC. He blinks in surprise. MDC had never made a public appearance before. This was an odd one to choose. Preparing himself to confront the designer, he’s surprised as she walks in behind Jagged Stone. He’s even more surprised when he realizes she had to be a teenager. He chats with the girl and Jagged, glancing down at her over the top of his glasses, shock immediately flooding him. The girl had injuries. Hundreds of them. Bones fused back together haphazardly. Quickly excusing himself, he rushes over to Bruce.
“Do you know who MDC is? Because that girl is definitely younger than Tim. And she has hundreds of injuries, Bruce. Hundreds.” He says quietly, watching as Bruce turns and glances at the girl, his eyes widening slightly.
“Shit.” He mutters.
“What?” Clark asks, trying to figure out if he should also be concerned. Bruce smiles, but it's tense.
“That is my daughter.” He says. Clark blinks.
“That’s the new one? Why didn’t she show up with the rest of the family?” He asks.
“I knew she had plans for tonight, so I didn’t tell her about the Gala. I was going to warn her about it, if she didn’t have plans. So she knew to stay in her room.” Bruce explains. Clark frowns.
“You were going to keep her locked up?” He asks incredulously. Not even the least social Wayne was kept locked away for the Galas.
“Of course not. It’s just- she hasn’t said she wants to be announced yet. She hasn’t even said anything about being MDC because she hates the spotlight. I couldn’t just throw her to the sharks. I’m just trying to do what’s best for her.” Bruce says, standing up straighter. Clark sighs.
“Did you actually talk to her about it? Or did you just assume?” He asks, Bruce huffs.
“I think I know my daughter a little more than you do, Kent.” He says.
“Really? Because from here it sounds like she’s about two breaths away from a panic attack. And Penny Rolling keeps reassuring her that they don’t have to stay long. Oh- and now she’s apologizing for not telling her it was a Wayne Gala until today, but she’s also clearly confused as to why it’s upsetting her. And now-”
“Okay, I get it.” Bruce snaps, cutting him off. Clark raises an eyebrow.
“I’m not sure what happened, but you should fix this.” He says with a pointed look before walking away. God knows the Bats all need a push in the right direction every now and again.
---
Jason frowns as he looks around the room for Marinette. He knew that she hadn’t come with the family, B hadn’t explained that one. But he had heard that MDC was there. And he wanted to talk to her, make sure she was doing okay. These things were annoying as hell and he knew he wouldn’t get through it if he didn’t have his brothers (even if they were little shits). He finally spots her near a wall, clearly trying to disappear. He grins widely, walking over and grinning at her.
“Well, MDC, fancy seeing you here.” He teases with a wink. He watches her for some kind of reaction, frowning when he doesn’t get one. “Pix?” He says, softer this time as he looks at his baby sister.
“Oh, that’s right, I wasn’t supposed to be here, was I? Well, sorry to disappoint.” She snaps bitterly. Jason flinches back, surprised at her tone.
“What’re you talking about?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. Why did she sound so hurt? Why did she think they didn’t want her there?
“Clearly I’m not as much of the family as I thought I was.” She hisses under her breath. He starts to deny that, but she cuts him off with a humorless laugh. “Bruce didn’t even tell me that there was a Gala. None of you did either. A Wayne family Gala and I wasn’t told. I should’ve known better.” She says, turning to walk away. He grabs her wrist gently, stopping her.
“I promise you, we want you here. Dick, Damian, Tim, me- we all want you here. I can’t speak for B, I’ll definitely be having words with the son of a bitch later, but we want you here.” He says, frowning as he listens to her sniffle under her veil. “Pixie, we thought you knew. He told us you weren’t ready to come to this. I swear to you, we would have told you if we knew. I swear.” He adds. His heart breaks as he hears a hiccupped sob break free from her. He wants nothing more than to wrap his baby sister in a hug, but he knows he can’t. Media’d have a field day.
“Really?” She asks in a small voice. Jason nods.
“Hell yeah Pix. Tell ya what, I’m gonna go get the others and then we’re all gonna sneak out. Take one of the old man’s cars and get some garbage fast food. Who needs this lameass party anyway.” He says, hoping she’ll agree. He’ll let himself be mad at Bruce later. And boy was he gonna be mad. The old man had really fucked up this time. It was one thing to ask Mari to not go to the Gala, or to think she wasn’t ready for it. It was a completely other thing to not even give her the chance to decide, or tell her at all. Cause now she was hurt and thinking everyone hated her. Well, he wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not on his watch.
“Lemme just go tell Jagged and Penny real quick.” She agrees, scurrying off. The second she walks away Jason lets his smile drop into a scowl. That son of a bitch. Storming over to his brothers, he tugs them over to the wall. Better not to let B get word of where they’re going.
“What is the meaning of this?” Damian asks with a scowl.
“Pixie’s gonna tell her Aunt and Uncle that she’s leaving and then we’re stealing one of B’s cars to go to McDonalds.” He says simply. Tim frowns.
“And we’re doing this because?” He prompts.
“Because B apparently didn’t tell the kid about the Gala. And she assumed we knew, and that we all hate her.” Jason explains with a frown.
“Father said she didn’t want to attend.” Damian says, and Jason huffs.
“Yeah, well apparently he lied. She had no clue that the event she was going to as MDC was a Wayne Gala.” He says.
“I’ll go get the car and pull it up front.” Dick says, a determined look on his face. Sometimes his ‘we’re a family and we stick together’ shit annoyed the hell outta Jason, but he was thankful for it today.
“I’m gonna go grab Selina’s coat for her to put on. I saw her dress, and if any MDC fan sees her leaving with us it’s gonna start a media circus.” Tim says, walking away to the coat room. Jason sighs, watching Marinette from across the room. A cleared throat beside him tugs his attention back to his youngest brother.
“What?” He asks, pushing his frustration down. He’d go shoot something later, but right now he was determined to not take his frustration at Bruce out on his siblings.
“Why would Father intentionally keep her from the Gala? She is far more adept at social interaction than I am.” Damian says with a frown. Jason sighs, shrugging.
“No clue. But I’m not about to let her push herself away from the rest of us just because B fucked up.” He says, watching as she walks over to the wall, almost disappearing in the shadows. He nods towards her, making sure Damian follows. The second Tim has Selina’s coat, their small group is off, sneaking out one of the side doors and walking past the journalists, sprinting to Dick and the waiting car. They all jump in and she tears the veil off her face, making Jason wince slightly at her red, puffy eyes. Dick slams on the gas, eliciting a curse from Jason and a squeal of surprise from Marinette.
“So! We broke out of that stuffy party. Where are we headed?” Dick asks, glancing in the rearview mirror to make eye contact with Jason. Jason grins.
“We go get a shit ton of junk food from McDonalds and eat it in the car. Give it the old, fast food smell that B loves oh so much.” He says. Marinette snorts, and Jason grins at her. He’d give B hell later, but for now, he was going to enjoy spending time with his siblings.
---
Bruce frowns as he glances around the Gala, not seeing his daughter. Or any of his other children. He made a mental note to talk to them later. Perhaps keeping the Gala from Marinette wasn’t his best decision.
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alyssadeliv · 3 years
Text
The Forgotten One
First      Previous
Chapter 9
For the first time after so long, Marianne finally felt home. Even as she bled on top of a dark building, she did not care. As long as she kept on holding him everything would be alright. She could feel his tear on her neck, and she could imagine he felt hers on his. It was strange, she dreamed of this moment more times she could count, but not one of her imaginary scenes did she feel this immense happiness in her soul. It was as if she was finally whole. He held her with such force she was sure she would suffocate, but she kept quiet, just enjoying the warmth of his body on hers. It was only after she started feeling dizzy that she detached him from her. 
He was different, more mature. The years only served to enhance his beauty. It didn't matter that he was wearing a mask, she would recognize him everywhere, but she still longed to be able to see his green eyes again. No one said a word, using their body language to determine what to do next. It was Damian that decided to take the lead.
He stood up and helped his sister on her feet. He kept supporting her, knowing that the wound he inflicted on her must be taking some toll on her body after their intense fight. She was barely standing on her own, having lost too much blood. His Robin costume was coated in red, and that left a bad taste on his mouth. With her secure at his side, he turned to his Father. There was so much he needed to tell him, years of feelings he trapped inside of him could finally be let loose. But first, he had to make sure he still trusted him. 
“I promise to explain once we get to the cave… but she needs help.” He pleaded. He wasn’t sure if it was the tone of his voice or the fact that his family just caught him in his most vulnerable moment, but they agreed. 
Damian carried her to the Batmobile, Todd, and Grayson trailing after him. Batman led the team in silence. Meticulously thinking about the connection of his youngest son with the passed-out assassin. She wore League attire, but it was a strange symbol on her clothes that made him wary. He remembered seeing that symbol in the clothes of a dead Gabriel Agreste early this week, and there was no doubt that they had some kind of connection.
He wanted to interrogate her as soon as possible, but he would wait until Damian gave his explanation as to why he acted in such a way that night. They obviously knew each other, so they must have met when his son was still in the care of his mother. That information did little to calm his worried mind.
It was a unanimous decision that petrol was canceled that night. So they all entered the Batmobile and made their way to the Cave. They didn’t have to worry about their identities, as the girl was falling in and out of consciousness during their short ride. 
Dick kept a close eye on the girl in Damian’s arms. Her face was nested carefully in his brother's neck, keeping him from being able to identify her face. Her blood coated the interior of the car, and only the fact that the Batarang still impaled at her side was helping to stop the bleeding from totally draining the girl kept him somewhat calm.
Jason was the only one that wasn’t in the car, having opted to use his bike, he went ahead and notified Alfred that they would need his assistance, with the injured girl.
By now Damian knew that all his family was notified of this incident, and would most likely be waiting for them to return. He could only hope that his father would hear him first. He wasn’t worried about his sister, he knew she would be alright. After years of training with her, he knew she bled easily, but was stronger and healed faster than most. 
When they arrived at the Cave, Damian immediately laid her in one of the gurneys. But before he allowed Alfred to assess her wound he removed the weapon. He heard the shouts of indignation coming from Grayson but ignored him.
He knew what they must be thinking, that his weapon was the only thing keeping her from bleeding out, but what they didn’t know was that Marianne’s body reacted faster when she was in danger of dying. So it came to no surprise to him when her wound started to heal itself. What started him was the glow that came with it. That was new.
“She will be fine. Just need a couple of hours to recharge her energy” Damian clarified.
"She's Meta…” Dick whispered, eying Bruce carefully. It was no secret that the man did not normally trust meta-humans very easily. His expression was hard, and everyone could tell his patience had come to an end.
“Explain.” He demanded.
“I do not know how to start…” From his body language, they could see he was nervous. He ran his fingers through his hair, something he never did.
“From the start would be great!” Jason tried to lighten the mood. He hadn’t moved from his sitting position on the round table. Barbara and Tim were sitting with him, both anxious to understand the situation. He wanted to go see this mysterious girl, but for the sake of his family, he stayed put, for now.
“Father… You might want to sit for this…” 
Bruce nodded. And they all sat. Damian sat in front of his father, with Grayson and Todd at his sides, while Gordon and Drake sat by Todd’s side. No one dared to sit close to Bruce, fearing his reaction.
“Do you remember how I was conceived?” Damian started, not meeting his father’s eyes, and ignoring the snickering coming from his brothers. He knew this was a sore subject, but he needed to approach the subject somehow.
“It was of extreme importance that Mother produced a male heir for Grandfather. But what you do not know is that I was not the firstborn” This causes everyone to widen their eyes in horror. 
Bruce pales but otherwise keeps quiet.
“I explained before how I was raised in an artificial womb through my development stages. And there is a reason for that... Before me, Mother was pregnant, the traditional way, but a female was born. She was born” He points to the direction of the girl resting behind the curtains of the medical bay. 
“How… When…” Bruce is at a loss of words. When Talia appeared two years ago with his secret child in tow he felt only despair first. He had lost so much of his son’s childhood. It took him so long to accept that he had what it took to care for his blood child the same way he cared for his wards.
“She was born six years before me…” Damian explains. “Mother never told me anything about that, only that she did it to appease her father.”
“Wait, wait, wait! So you're telling me that the scary kid we just rescued is B’s long-lost daughter? Why are we only hearing of this now?” Jason as always wasn't able to keep quiet anymore. 
Damian lowers his head and covers his eyes with his now gloveless hands. Sensing his distress Jason allows him to recompose himself. 
“She was dead… Or I thought she had died. In the same attack that made Mother bring me to live here.” They could see that it was hard for him to talk about that day “Except she did not die!” He exclaimed in anger, rising from his seat. 
“There’s where you're wrong.” The melodious voice attracts their attention. She stands just a couple of steps apart from where they are sitting. But no one heard her coming. She wears green, but the cape that once covered her hair is lowered, and they could clearly see her long black hair left loose. She had blue eyes and was rapidly analyzing every single one of them until her eyes landed on Bruce. Her father. Damian could see the insecurity in her, so he calmed himself, and went to her. “I did die that day. It was only thanks to Tikki that I am alive now” And with that, she knew her brother would understand. After years of living with her, she taught him a little about the Order.
“Father…” Damian tries.
Bruce stands up. And goes in their direction. He stops just a couple of steps from his children. His children. 
“This is Marianne, your daughter.”
So there we are! Another chapter. Do you love it? Hate it? Please tell me I love to read your opinions!
I feel like I must warn you all that I only planned to have one more chapter on this story, but after some consideration, it came to me the idea of making a Part Two of this story. Would that be something you all be interested in? Let me know!
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pianomanblaine · 2 years
Text
Down Once More
This story was written for the Potober prompts “Down Once More” and “And Now, How You Betray Me”, particularly with the words “taken hostage” and “betrayal” in mind. It resulted in an alternative version of the final lair. Fair warning: this one does not have a happy ending. 
AO3 FFN
He dragged her along the dark and damp corridors beneath the opera house at a frantic pace, his grip on her arm harsh and unrelenting, not even sparing her a backward glance as she stumbled over her own feet trying to keep up with him. Her head was still reeling from the events leading up to this moment. It had all happened so fast, yet here and now, time seemed to lose all meaning. Every separate moment seemed to fade into the next one, forming one big hazy blur. It might have been several hours or merely a few minutes before they reached the shore of the underground lake and Erik was steering the little boat across the water towards his house.
Once inside, he pushed her into the bedroom which she had come to think of as hers, and roughly thrust the wedding dress he had so painstakingly crafted for her into her arms. He did not leave the room, did not even turn around to give her the smallest bit of privacy as he forced her to change into it. He immediately started yanking at the fastenings of the dress she was wearing, undressing her with great urgency, letting the garment pool around her feet, and for a moment she feared that he had gone completely mad and would try to violate her. But he only barked out an order for her to put on the wedding gown as he began to agitatedly pace the floor, only occasionally glancing in her direction while she got dressed again.
When she was finished, Erik retrieved a veil – she did not see where from, he might as well have pulled it out of thin air – and forcefully pushed it onto her head. Under any other circumstances, she might have been able to appreciate how delicate and beautiful it was, with its wreath of white and pale pink flowers that contrasted so nicely against her dark brown hair. It hardly weighed anything, but to Christine it felt incredibly heavy, carrying with it the full weight of Erik’s expectations.
Now that her wedding attire was complete, Erik finally stood still long enough to fully look at her. She wondered if he was happy with what he saw. He must have imagined her in that very dress so many times. Was he satisfied now that he had what he wanted, even knowing that it was against her will? Was it all really worth it?
Before she got the chance to ask him, he turned his back on her and walked away without saying a word. She followed him into the sitting room, where a fire was burning brightly in the hearth, its warm glow a striking contrast to the icy atmosphere in the room.
“So what now?” Christine asked, breaking the tense silence between them. “Are you planning to keep me hostage here, hoping I will suddenly change my mind and agree to marry you after all? Or will you just drag me in front of a priest and threaten me until I say ‘I do’?”
“This is not exactly how I had imagined it to go either, Christine,” he snapped as he stood by the fire with his back turned towards her. “I had a plan, and it would have worked if your precious little Vicomte didn’t have to ruin it all.”
“Raoul was only trying to protect me.”
“And look where his protection got you,” Erik sneered, turning to face her with a grotesque grin on his bare face as he gestured around the room, “in the Phantom’s lair, captured by the madman!”
“I never believed you to be mad, Erik,” she replied, “but I have come to understand how dangerous you can be.”
Christine’s heart twisted painfully as she recalled the early days of their acquaintance, when she still believed he was the Angel of Music. How kind he had always been to her, how gently he had treated her. But that had changed drastically when she learned of his deception and discovered his true identity. He had continued to act as her tutor, coaxing her voice to unknown heights, and although he was never harsh or violent towards her, he had grown defensive and suspicious, always on his guard around her, as if he could not believe that she could still feel any genuine kindness towards him now that she had seen his face.
“Well yes, I suppose I am like a wild animal in that regard. When feeling threatened, I can be extremely dangerous indeed,” Erik agreed. He took a few steps towards her, closing the distance between them, his tall frame towering over her. He seemed to be challenging her, daring her to look at the face of the monster.
“Should I be afraid then?” she asked, rising to the challenge and looking straight into his strange yellow eyes.
At first he merely seemed surprised, maybe even impressed, by her bravery as she stood her ground and faced him without flinching, but by the way his face fell only a moment later, she could tell when the meaning of her words hit him. He turned away as he spoke.
“Of course not. I never meant for you to be scared of me. I never intended you any harm.” He took a few steps back, as if to prove his point, as if he hoped to seem less threatening if he stood a little further away from her.
“Kidnapping me is a strange way of showing it,” Christine huffed.
His posture stiffened at the accusation. “You didn’t exactly leave me much choice, did you?” he said through clenched teeth. “You betrayed me!”
“I betrayed you?” she gasped in disbelief, her hands balling into fists by her sides. “Do you want to talk about betrayal, Erik? Do you want to discuss how you lied to me for years, pretending to be an angel sent by my dead father to watch over me? How you blackmailed the managers into doing your bidding, how you terrorized Carlotta and God knows how many others?”
“Don’t you understand? I did it all for you! Because I love you!” he roared.
“Don’t you dare blame this all on me! You killed two innocent people, Erik! How does that have anything to do with love?”
“Buquet was not innocent,” he snorted. “He was a vile lecher, a pervert preying on young defenceless ballerinas in the dark behind the stage. He got what was coming to him.”
The man was certainly no saint, Erik was right about that and Christine knew it, but how could he not see that that did not justify his murder? Even so, she might have been able to forgive him for it eventually, if it had not been for Piangi.
“Piangi never hurt anyone.”
“Piangi was in the way!” he exclaimed. “I did not mean to kill him, merely to incapacitate him long enough to take his place on the stage, but I ran out of time and I became careless. He was the only thing standing between us and I was not about to let him ruin my plan, no matter the cost.”
“You are delusional if you truly believe he was the only obstacle standing in your way. What did you expect to happen tonight, Erik? You would take Piangi’s place, sing with me in an opera of your own creation in front of a full theatre, and then what? I’d fall into your arms and we’d live happily ever after?” She tore the veil out of her hair in frustration, throwing it at his feet. If he thought that after all the times he had tried to force her hand, had tried to manipulate her into choosing him, she would now willingly become his bride, he was sorely mistaken.
“I cannot deny the truth of that, although it now becomes painfully clear how foolish I was to entertain such hopes.” Although his words seemed to imply that he blamed himself for having such unrealistic expectations, the glare he directed at Christine made it clear that he also faulted her for his disappointment. “I was ready to lay my heart at your feet tonight, Christine, and how did you repay me? By tearing off my mask and revealing my monstrous shame for all of Paris to see! I trusted you!”
His angry shouting turned into a sob of betrayal and despair, and for the briefest of moments, Christine’s anger was overshadowed by compassion for the man in front of her. She was well aware of how badly she must have hurt him by doing what she did, but she had no other options. If she hadn’t done something drastic that would enrage him enough to take action, the gendarmes waiting behind the stage would have closed in on him and captured him, or worse.
Raoul must have thought she was in her dressing room or somewhere else out of earshot as he gave his instructions to shoot Erik when the time came, but she had been too nervous to sit still for long, choosing instead to wander the hallways and eventually finding her way behind the stage, pacing back and forth in the dark as she waited for the inevitable tragedy of the night to unfold. She had heard every word. If she hadn’t acted when she did, Erik might have been dead by now.
“I understand that my actions hurt you too, Erik, truly, I do, but you gave me no choice. Can’t you see it was wrong to pin all your hopes and dreams on me? You’ve told me you love me, and I believe that in your own way you really do, but I cannot be held responsible for your feelings, Erik. I do not owe you anything simply because you love me.”
At the crestfallen, heartbroken look on his face, she almost went to him, almost closed the distance between them and embraced him in a futile attempt to offer him some comfort, a silent apology for having shattered his dreams in a few sentences. Almost. Whatever she had to offer him, it would not be enough now. He would always want what she could not give him.
“I know that I cannot make you love me,” Erik began after a long, heavy silence. “God knows I have tried long enough.” His voice sounded softer now, his bitter and accusatory tone completely gone. “But do you not care for me even a little bit? That could be enough for me. We could start over somewhere new, where no one knows who we are. I could still tutor you and you could still sing.” He was pleading now, with his eyes as well as his words, hoping against all odds that he could still convince her to share her future with him.
“I would expect nothing from you, Christine. I’d do anything to make you happy, I’d give you anything you want. You would only have to ask and it would be yours, and you would not have to do anything in return other than stay by my side. Dammit Christine, I am beyond pride. I’ll fall to my knees and beg if I must. Stay with me. Please.”
And for a moment, Christine was truly tempted to throw caution to the wind and go with him. She did care for him, how could she not? Despite everything, he was still her Angel of Music. She could not deny he had been an integral part of her life since the first moment she met him. Erik had been her sole companion during those terrifying first few years after her father’s passing. Through music he had brought her soul back to life. The connection between them was irrefutable, and she could hardly imagine a world where she would never see him again.
Yet she knew that what he asked of her was impossible. Even if he claimed that he had no expectations from her, she knew that he would never be truly happy until she returned his affections, that he would always continue to hope, and she could not bear to disappoint him. Besides, she already had a fiancé. Raoul. Her childhood sweetheart. Sweet, protective, kind-hearted Raoul, who was probably trying desperately to find a way to save her, even if he had to risk his own life to do so, at this very moment.
Where Erik’s love for her was obsessive and at times almost frightening, being with Raoul would be as easy as breathing. He might not be able to give her a life of music, but she would be safe and cared for. She would not want for anything, and unlike Erik, Raoul was not a wanted man. Choosing a life on the run with Erik over a comfortable and uncomplicated one with Raoul might be romantic, but it would also be foolish.
“I do care for you Erik,” she finally replied, “but I cannot stay.”
He did not try to convince her after that. He merely nodded in resignation, as if he had always known this would be the final outcome.
“Go then,” he said. “You can choose a change of clothes from the wardrobe in your – in the spare room. You would draw too much unwanted attention if you returned dressed the way you are now.”
Christine wondered if that was his true reasoning, or if he simply wanted to keep the wedding dress as a memento to torment himself with.
She obeyed his instructions for the last time, selecting a simple yet elegant dark blue day dress out of the assortment of clothes Erik had kept on hand for her since the first time she had spent the night in his home.
When she re-entered the sitting room to say her final goodbyes, Erik was kneeling on the floor, desperately clutching the veil she had so carelessly discarded earlier, a look of terrible sorrow etched across his distorted face. He brought the fabric to his misshapen nose, trying to inhale the little bit of her perfume that might cling to it.
His eyes flew open and he looked up at her in surprise when he heard her footsteps. He clearly had not expected her to come back.
Erik stood up slowly, wiping invisible dust from his trousers, straightening his jacket, as if after all that had transpired, it was still of the utmost importance that he look presentable to her. Maybe his habit of dressing so nicely was an attempt to compensate for the imperfection of his face, she suddenly realized.
A tentative smile formed on his lips as he watched her, silently waiting for whatever last scrap of kindness she would offer him before stepping out of his life for good. Christine could almost feel her heart breaking as she removed the ring he had thrust on her finger earlier that night, holding it out towards him. The ring was supposed to be a promise, a physical sign that their lives would forever be entwined. It did not feel right to keep it.
Erik’s smile disappeared as he reached for the ring, holding her hand in his for a moment while he looked into her eyes, silently begging her to change her mind. She gave a minute shake of her head before letting go of the ring and withdrawing her hand, a single tear trailing down her cheek.
Christine did not say goodbye, her voice unable to get the word out. She turned around and walked away, forcing herself to set one foot in front of the other until she had reached the door. If she did not leave now, she never would, and she knew she had to.
At the door, she stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder. One last glance at the man who had taught her voice to soar. He was still watching her, and when he noticed her looking at him he nodded once, as if to say: “It’s alright. Go. I understand.”
Trying to keep her tears at bay, she stepped over the threshold and made her way to the jetty, where the boat lay waiting for her. She knew she was making the right decision by leaving. But then why did it feel as if she was leaving a part of her heart behind?
As Christine steered the boat to the other side and removed herself from his life forever, Erik’s almost inhuman scream of loss and despair echoed across the underground lake. It was a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her days.
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yummyyume · 3 years
Text
Of Love and Sunlight - Part 02
Here it is! To be perfectly honest with all of you, this part has been written first. There will be a part 03, somewhen in the future. I just need to write it. And there are some tentatives plot bunnies for a part 04. So we’ll see how it works out.
You can visit my AO3 if you want. I’ll post Of Love and Sunlight there soon. 
Part 01
Hope you all like it!
Tittles are adapted from Sunlight by Hozier, because I love this song and I didn’t have any idea how to name this series.
I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors, English is not my first language. I hope it’s still intelligible.
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Hold me, carry me slowly
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Marinette opens her front door tiredly. It’s far too early for anyone to be bothering her yet. She’s only awake because the twins are going to start fussing soon, and despite her short night, she prefers waking up with her alarm than with her babies’ cries. It tends to make her panic if they’re the ones waking her up, because her mind immediately wonders what’s wrong instead of remembering that it’s feeding time.
She’s not expecting to see Jon and Damian on her front step. She hurriedly steps out and closes the door behind her to bare them entry, leaving only a sliver open so she’ll hear her babies if anything happened.
“What are you doing here?” She hisses, glaring.
“We wanted to talk to you, Marinette,” Damian replies, words mild, expression politely blank, while Jon looks both hopeful and sheepish.
Marinette’s blood boils.
“I have nothing to say to either of you!” She snaps back. “You made it perfectly clear that you want nothing to do with me! Well, I don’t want anything to do with you!”
It’s only because she knows him so well that she sees Jon’s flinch at her words, but despite that he takes a step forward, careful not to touch her. Marinette takes a step back and curses the fact that the door is in the way.
“Marinette, we’re sorry. We’re really, really sorry for everything and we would like to talk. Please.”
And Marinette has always been weak to Jon’s earnest tone and puppy dog eyes. She wants to let them in and listens to what sort of flimsy excuses they came up with, because she missed them. She missed them so much, but they broke her heart and she’s not ready to let them break her babies’ hearts too.
Just as she’s about to open her mouth and tell them to get lost, there’s a sharp wail coming from the bedroom and at their suddenly alert expressions, she knows they heard it too. She closes her eyes just as a second wail starts and she knows there’s no getting rid of them now.
“Are you…” Jon starts, eyes fixed intently on the door. “Marinette, are you babysitting?”
She only sighs in answer and opens the door to get back inside. She doesn’t close it in their face as much as she wants to, because she knows they’re about to follow.
The girls are both fussing in their crib and Marinette scoops Scarlet up for a nappy change. She takes the time to put Asha’s pacifier back into her mouth before moving to the changing table.
“There, there. No need to cry. It’s just a soil nappy. We know how to take care of those.” She coos gently. “There, you go. All clean. I’m going to change Asha now and then we’ll have a nice breakfast, okay?”
She puts Scarlett back in the crib despite her complains and repeats the whole process with Asha.
She can feel the boys’ eyes on her, and it makes her want to lash out.
“Are they ours?” Damian demands.
“They’re mine,” she snaps, not looking at him. “There’re no fathers list on the birth certificates. They don’t need any dads, they have me.”
“But they’re ours, right?” Jon presses, tone so hopeful, but Marinette refuses to answer. That’s an answer in itself.
“Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you call?” Damian speaks again.
“I called you!” She hissed, eyes blazing in anger, but keeping her tone even so as not to upset her babies too much. “I called you and left voicemails and then both your numbers were disconnected, and I got the message! If you didn’t want anything to do with me, then I didn’t want anything to do with you either!”
“I didn’t change my number,” Damian says slowly, eyes never leaving the little face on the changing table. And then what he said seem to register and he retrieves his phone with a deep frown to swipe through the apps. “It’s not the same number.” He then looks at Jon with an almost wide-eyed look and Jon takes out his own phone to seemingly so the same manip.
“Me too,” he reveals, shocked. “Someone changed our numbers. Damian!” He hisses, this time with a glare for his boyfriend.
“Marinette, can you please give us the possibility to explain-”
“I’m this close to throw you both out, Damian! There’s nothing you could say that would make anything that you did okay!” She replies hotly.
“Please, Mari,” he pleads. “Please, just hear us out. You can throw us out after. I promise, if you want us to go, we will.”
Jon doesn’t add anything, but he bites his bottom lip and nods jerkily.
“Just… just go. Wait in the living room. I need to feed the girls.”
They both listen, thankfully. Marinette needs a minute.
Someone changed their phone numbers? Without their consent? That seems stupid and unfeasible, but… but she wants to believe them. She missed them. God, she missed them so much.
Marinette fusses a bit with Asha’s onesie and tries to make a list of all the reasons why she shouldn’t let them back in her life. When Scarlett makes an impatient noise that announces her readiness to cry again, Marinette knows that she can’t wait any longer. She scoops the girls with their favorite plushies and goes to the living room.
Damian and Jon are sitting squished on the armchair beside the couch.
Marinette sighs again and sits carefully in front of the couch on the plush carpet. It takes some maneuvering, but soon Asha is leaning across her lap, gently sucking her pacifier and looking at Marinette with all the trust her little baby heart knows. Marinette arranges the Tikki plushy on her tummy so she can grasp it.
“Let’s feed Scarlett,” she tells her daughter. “You know she’s always hungry.”
She then uncovers her left breast and, removing the pacifier, guides Scarlett to her nipple. The baby latches onto it and start sucking greedily, her little fingers kneading Marinette’s sleep shirt.
And then she waits. She’s not going to make things easy for them.
Jon is the first to move, seemingly transfigured by the sign of his daughter. He stands up in the living-room to face her.
“It’ll be easier to show you.” He says, before starting to spin so fast he’s only a blur, but when he stops, he’s wearing Superboy’s uniform and Marinette feels like a stone has dropped to the bottom of her stomach.
“I’m Superboy,” Jon tells her almost gently, as if he doesn’t want to spook her.
“And I’m Robin,” Damian utters after him. He hasn’t moved from the armchair, but there’s a green domino mask between his fingers.
“Oh,” Marinette says quietly, before she drops her gaze to Scarlett’s face. Her daughter has closed her eyes while she’s nursing.
Marinette… Marinette doesn’t know what to say. She knows what it means to be a hero. She used to be one, after all. She knows the sacrifices, the missed opportunities and the excuses. She knows the necessity for a secret identity and what it means to trust someone with it.
“You broke my heart,” she admits in a whisper, because what else can she say in the face of that, and she can feel her eyes prickle with tears.
Jon drops to his knees in front of her, back in his jeans and hoody.
“I’m so sorry, Mari. I never wanted to do that. It broke mine too to end things, but we couldn’t tell you.”
“We asked for the permission to tell you our identities,” Damian says, kneeling beside Jon on the carpet to face her, “but we were denied.”
“We had a long mission,” Jon continues. “Dad, Aunt Kara, Conner and me, as the last Kryptonians, were asked to help two planets come to an understanding. They were at war and their whole solar system was suffering from it. The mission was to stop the war long enough for a ceasefire and then helps with negotiating a peace treaty. Green Lantern helped and Damian-”
“I wasn’t going to let Jon walks into a dangerous fight without back up,” Damian cuts him off.
“I’m basically indestructible!” Jon replies without any real heat, proving it was an old argument. “And Dad, Aunt Kara and Kon were my back up!”
Damian ignores the interruption, focusing back on Marinette.
“The Green Lantern Corps was part of the mission too and while it’s officially over, the situation is still tense on those planets. The Corps is keeping an eye on things for now. We may have to go back if things turn south again, but hopefully, it won’t require our deployment again.”
“And we wanted to tell you the truth.” Jon tells her, earnest and heartbroken. “But when we asked our dads, they said our relationship was too new. That we couldn’t risk it. Even more so because we were going to leave for months and we wouldn’t be there to ‘make sure you don’t tell anyone’.” he finishes bitterly.
“As much as we didn’t want to end our relationship with you, without the permission to tell you the truth, we couldn’t disappear from the face of the earth and invent an excuse like ‘we’re doing a tour of the world and you’re not invited’.” Damian sighs and grabs Jon’s hand tightly. “We spent the last few months trying to come up with a way to win you back. Anytime we had some down time, we brainstormed about what we’ll do once we’re back on Earth.”
During their explanation, Marinette had switched the girls for feeding. Across her lap, Scarlett was now looking in direction of the men, probably intrigued by those new voices she didn’t know.
“And the phone numbers?” She eventually asks.
Damian slumps, breaking his rigid posture. “Do you know who my father is?” He asks.
“Batman?” She tries, but she’s almost certain. If he’s Robin, then it makes sense for his father to be the big bat himself. Which also mean that his siblings are the other Gotham vigilantes.
“Yes. Jon and I had to leave our phones here. Even the communications with the Watchtower were scarce. If you called more than once, Father must have changed our numbers.”
“But why?” She growls. “What right did he have?! You’re both adults! He didn’t even try to find out why I was calling you!”
“I’m sorry, Mari. I know Father loves me, but he tends to do what he thinks is best without always consulting us. Rest assure that I’ll have words with him.”
Asha choses that moment to push away her breast and Marinette does the usual ministrations to clean her face and clears her stomach of gas.
She hesitates a second, before closing her eyes with a deep sigh.
When she opens them again, she holds Asha out like a present. Jon scrambles closer without hesitation and very carefully accepts her in his arms, following her instructions on how best to hold her.
“This is Asha. Asha Gina Dupain-Cheng. She’s Dami’s.”
“Oh my god,” Jon exhales and a few tears immediately escapes his eyes. “Hello, Asha. It’s very nice to meet you.” His voice cracks a bit as Damian looks over his shoulder with an expression so soft and lost that Marinette’s heart aches with it. She beckons Damian closer too and places Scarlett in his own arms.
“And this is Scarlett Sabine Dupain-Cheng. She’s Jon’s.”
Damian is more confident in holding her, so he frees a hand to gently run his finger down her skin.
“Hello, Scarlett.”
“How…” Jon chocks on his tears. “How does it work? They’re twins, right?”
Arms free, Marinette slumps against the couch.
“It’s called ‘heteropaternal superfecundation’. My ovaries released two eggs at the same time, and both were fertilized. That alone would have resulted in fraternal twins. Except that one was fertilized by Jon and the other by Dami. So, twin babies with different bio dads.”
Because her Luck was just like that. Of course, Tikki’s influence would make Marinette’s first pregnancy the result of almost impossible odds.
For a long moment no one say anything. Jon and Damian are pressed so tightly together, both alternating looking at each baby in their arms, that it brings s a reluctant smile to Marinette.
“You have so much groveling to do,” she tells them. “You broke my heart. I’m not kidding when I say that. And the father section on the birth certificates is going to stay blank until I can trust you again. But you do something like that again and Scarlett, Asha and I are out of your lives for good. I don’t care if Scarlett is half-alien. They’re mine more than they’re yours right now. I carried them for eight months, I gave birth to them, and now I’m feeding them. And I was alone for all of that.”
“I promise, Habibti, that we’ll prove to you we’re here to stay. We want you and we want the girls.”
“It was a long mission,” Jon grins cheekily. “We definitely earned some downtime.”
“Exactly,” Damian agrees. “What would you like for breakfast, Mari? I’ll cook.”
“I made French toasts, last night. The preparation is in the fridge. You can cook that.”
With a small smile, Damian carefully gives her back Scarlett and then presses a dry kiss to Marinette’s forehead, before disappearing in the kitchen.
Jon moves until he’s sitting by her side against the couch and smiles at her. She missed his smile.
“So, what can you tell me about your daughters?”
“They are very healthy babies,” Marinette starts. “Scarlett definitely inherits your appetite. I need to complement her diet with formula because I don’t produce enough milk for all her feeding, plus Asha’s. That’s the alien biology, I suppose?”
“Yeah. Mom had some problem with that too when she had me, but at least she only had one baby to feed. What about Asha?”
“She’s fine with just breast milk, but she’s fussier when it’s time for sleep. I hope she’s not a premature insomniac, but now that I know about your nightly activities, I shan’t hold my breath.”
Jon snickers.
Breakfast is a lively affair. The French toast was only one portion, so Dami made pancakes and a fruit salad to accommodate Jon’s and his appetite. For the first time in weeks, Marinette can eat without one of her arms being commandeered by one of the twins. She knows things aren’t completely better. They need to talk about their relationship, their expectations, and relearn what it means to be together, all three of them plus two babies. But that particular conversation can wait a bit. For now, Marinette tells them about Asha’s curiosity and Scarlett’s boundless energy, about some of the weirdest things that happened during her pregnancy.
Things will work out. She’ll make sure of that.
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sweeethinny · 3 years
Text
Boss's son
Summary: Ginny is an auror in training, with few hours of fun in her schedule, but when one night she decides to go to a guy's house and enjoy her youth, she is surprised by the discovery that she had sex with her boss's son
prompt: "You’ve got to stop doing that" "Doing what?" "Saying things that make me wanna kiss you"
"Mum thinks I'm dating you".
Notes: I thought I couldn't finish this, really, I found myself stuck and not knowing where to go with the story, but then some things happened and I managed to finish it.
Thank you very much to Dusk who read and helped me, and thank to @clarensjoy who made this incredible event to celebrate this incredible date!
I feel that this role reversal would be good to write, and it really was, I think the idea of Ginny being an auror ... Chief's kiss :)
AO3
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Ginny Weasley
Ginny did not have many fears, she had joined the Aurors in less than three years and until now she had faced death many times to be frightened by small things that other people could easily be haunted by. Dementors no longer scared her, nor Death Eaters, or anything like that, Ginny was no longer scared like a puppy in distress. She had learned to deal with situations, Mr Potter was a great boss - she would never say otherwise - but he also scared his pupils like no one else, saying that being on the alert was the best way to be a good Auror.
'Good aurors do not shake when they see the danger, they assess the situation and try to find the solution as soon as possible. Take a minute, and you will be dead.' He said in defense classes, standing on the podium with that typical scowl on him, arms crossed, watching the students trying to knock down the mannequins around the room.
But now, Ginny was mortified.
She felt her knees tremble, and she even felt the high heel in her fingers almost falling to the most manicured marble floor she had ever seen in her life. Her eyes were wide open, an immense desire to disappear completely, or to oblivion the man in front of her.
Her boss. Oblivion her fucking boss.
Ginny almost never had time to go out with guys, she went to the bar, drank, and then came home too tired to endure a round of bad sex, with some man who would cry in her ear about how hot she was and how he couldn't take it any longer. She would rather sleep, and later use her fingers, than have to put up with these guys, and clean up the mess later.
Yesterday however, it was a different day, Mr Potter, the most serious man Ginny had ever met in her life, was happy and told her that he was celebrating twenty years of marriage. They were in a distant village, checking a call from a lady who said she saw a wizard kill another one around those parts, but even that didn't seem to be able to wipe the smile off the man's face.
'Twenty years. Can you believe it?' He sighed, looking over to where the woman said there was a body, kicking what was filthy wrapped in old newsprint. Just a dead dog. 'Twenty years...'
'You look very happy,' Ginny said. 'Congratulations, Mr Potter.'
'Thank you, Miss. Weasley, and yes, I am very happy.' The man once again assured that the place was clean before checking to see if there were any dark arts nearby, or on the animal. Nothing. 'Come on, we just wasted time here.'
She had left earlier that day, Mr Potter said he was too happy to be sitting at the office table waiting for something to happen, and since she was his pupil, and she would also have to sit around waiting for some action, she could leave earlier.
Ginny didn't know much to do with that free time, she was usually always bogged down with work, so when Luna asked her out, she accepted. It was a nice night, the bar was not so crowded, there weren't so many disgusting guys leaning against her and whispering in her ear, and she was really enjoying the night, happy, laughing, talking to her friends, drinking, until she saw him.
He was sitting a few tables away, with some Arrows players, drinking and laughing out loud, drawing the attention of all the women around. At first, Ginny thought he was doing it to get attention, messing up his hair like an idiot, throwing his head back to laugh, talking loudly and rocking in his chair. But when a blonde went to talk to him, the boy seemed surprised by the attention, and even blushed, before smiling and politely denying, saying something more to her - this time, in a low voice.
The mysterious man looked at Ginny then, catching her in the act, his eyes behind the round glasses seeming to sparkle with amusement. He bit his lip and raised his beer mug in a silent toast. She did the same, wishing she hadn't been hit hard by him.
'Hello.' He said when Ginny went to the bar to get another round. The man didn't touch her, not even her shoulders, or whisper in her ear. He kept a good distance, smiling politely and ordering his beers.
'Hi.' Ginny smiled, leaning against the counter, feeling a little stupid for wanting the man to notice how beautiful her legs looked in those black skirts. 'Isn't the blonde your type?' She asked, a little sassy because of the alcohol, and also a little affected by how beautiful his green eyes were, stuck in her face as she spoke.
'No. I just came to drink. 'He put his hand on the counter, and Ginny didn't know if it was a way to show that there was no ring on his fingers, or just something casual. Anyway, she realized how all his fingers were free of any silver or gold. 'Is that you?'
'Too. My boss gave me an hour off. It doesn't happen every day. 'She smiled, shrugging.
'An asshole boss?' He raised his eyebrow, leaning on the counter too, now a little closer to her, but without touching her.
'Sometimes.' She joked.
Now Ginny felt mortified, standing on the stairs with her shoes in hand, her hair in a messy and badly done bun, and probably still with makeup traces on her face. Besides that bite mark on her neck. She was taking the walk of shame in front of her boss. The boss that she said was an asshole - sometimes - last night.
She had fucked with her boss's son! Merlin, how stupid she had been to overlook the similarities.
Standing now, looking at Mr. Potter, Harry was an identical copy of him, only a few years younger, and his eyes, of course, that were green. But still, she couldn't even believe it.
Ginny looked like a bitch in front of her boss.
'Good morning.' It was he who said it first, his eyes wide, seeming to try at all costs to remain in her face. Ginny suddenly felt almost naked, thinking about how that shirt was low-cut.
'Good morning, Mr Potter,' she replied, startled, holding tightly to the wooden railing, thinking about how Harry had pressed her there, almost fucking her on the stairs. Ginny swallowed.
The man just nodded, walking hurriedly into the kitchen, his cheeks flushed and avoiding looking at her as much as possible. Ginny ran out of the house as fast as she could, not even waiting to see if he was going to ask her out for breakfast. Merlin, she would see you at work in less than an hour!
Ginny apparated to her home, safe and without a boss catching her leaving his son's room, after having sex with the hottest man she had ever met. By Merlin's underpants, she was lost.
[...]
The atmosphere between the two was completely tense, Ginny and James barely met each other's eyes, or talked in general, she remained at her desk working with the papers they were carrying out, while Mr. Potter remained in his own office, calling her rarely .
Her career was ruined.
Mr. Potter would never refer her to any job again, and maybe he would trade her for the idiot Elliot. Elliot did not have sex with his son and sneaked out the next morning.
It wasn't hidden at least, she needed to work and Harry was sleeping, she left a note saying that.
'Miss. Weasley, come here please.' He called her, as he usually did, but now it seemed that all of her teachings about never letting your opponent realize that you were scared, had gone down the drain. Ginny could already taste the dismissal.
‘Yes, Mr. Potter?’ Ginny stopped at his office door, her knees trembling behind her pants, her hands sweating.
‘Please come in and close the door.’ She would be fired, or changed. Elliot the idiot was going to win the job she had worked so hard to get. She would never be a well-qualified Auror now, she would remain working only as a watchman for the rest of her life. Forget about promotions, trips to specializations, forget about even missions in the field, she would stay locked up in the office forever, visiting only the old women who always thought they had seen something.
All this because she wanted to have sex with a hot guy.
‘About today earlier-’
'I'm sorry, Mr. Potter.' Ginny interrupted him. ‘I didn’t want it to happen, if I had known-’
'I think if you want to apologize, it will have to be for my son and not for me.' James smiled, his cheeks slightly flushed. He took off his glasses to clean them, but Ginny thought it was an excuse for not having to look her in the eye. ‘About today earlier, I don’t think either of us wants to argue about or keep reminiscing about the event. Maybe we should just forget that we saw each other, and go on with life like that ... I think Harry was a little ... er ... worried about not seeing you for breakfast, but I didn't say anything to him. I would, of course, invite you to join us, but when I came back you were already gone...'
'Thank you.' Ginny sighed. ‘What happened in the morning?’
'That is why I chose you as my pupil, Miss. Weasley.' James also sighed, adjusting his glasses on his face. 'But I must tell you that Harry is coming to have lunch with me. If you want to .. I don’t know, leave early for lunch… I don’t know how your relationship with my son is… ’
'It's okay.' She tried not to remember that she had spoken badly about her boss to Harry. Harry's father. ‘Thank you, Mr. Potter, again.’
'You're welcome.'
Ginny didn't want to prove that she was a coward running away from Harry, or to make Mr. Potter think she had any reason to run away from him. So Ginny stayed, stomping her feet anxiously and trying to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her, arranging everything in folders and in alphabetical order, handing out some papers over the tables of the other Aurors who didn't even seem to notice her nervousness, all too busy.
When the big clock struck midday and the elevator opened on their floor, Ginny felt her blood run cold, hearing footsteps approaching and people looking more excited about whoever had entered. Her hand was shaking like a beginner's, trying to detach the sheet.
‘Ginny?’ Her voice called out to him, softly, as if he didn’t want people to look at her. She thanks. 'You work here?'
'Oh, hello Harry.' Ginny finally looked at him, dropping the scrolls and keeping her hands in her lap, watching the boy in front of her. In the daylight he looked even more handsome, messy and dark hair that she remembered to be soft and smelling, a stubble that had pinched her skin in a good way, mesmerizing green eyes, a pink mouth that had done a lot of wonders with her ... The man was a God, looking beautiful even in jeans torn at the knees, a black T-shirt and boots. The cover was open, but Ginny did not fail to notice that the fabric appeared to be of the best quality, held by a single buttercup near his neck. 'Yes.'
'Why didn't you tell me?' He continued to speak softly, but everyone was already starting to turn their necks to try to understand what the hell the chief's son was doing standing at poor Ginny's table.
Now that there was enough light and there was no alcohol running through her body, she thought it was obvious that Harry was James' son. She had been so silly.
‘I didn’t think it was important.’
'Oh, I see you guys met.' Mr Potter interrupted them, which Ginny would thank him later, his hand on his son's shoulder, looking at Ginny and then at Harry, who had a confused look on his face. 'Harry, let's have lunch and let Miss. Weasley can too, we don't want the woman to miss her time, do we?' The squeezing on his son's shoulder seemed to make the man wake up, and like his father, Harry smiled.
'Right. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Weasley. Have a nice day.'
[...]
When Ginny left work, it was as if a giant was coming off her shoulders, and she felt more tired than usual because of the tension. After lunch, the other Aurors did not seem to have swallowed the story that Harry and Ginny had first met that morning, and of course she overheard some guys saying that it was how she got the job of pupil.
Great, she thought, it was all I wanted.
Ignore the years of studying, the sleepless nights, the exhausting post-workout where she cried in the bath, the times she thought about giving up - and almost did - but was stopped by her brothers or her parents, and all those tiring missions that James seemed to do just to exhaust the Aurors and see who could still stand.
Forget all that, she got the job after swallowing the boss's son's dick.
Ginny quickened her pace, angry as never before, feeling that she needed to get home, take a shower, and do something to de-stress.
‘Hey!’ A voice called from behind her, and because of all the tension surrounding her and the training, Ginny squeezed her wand around her waist. 'Can we talk?' A slightly sweaty, pink-cheeked Harry stopped in front of her. He didn't even seem to be feeling the icy weather of March, wearing only sweatpants and a jacket, carrying a bag with him.
'What do you want to talk about?' She pressed the cloak against herself, feeling a little shiver, but maybe it was not about the cold but about the fact that the man looked even hot that way.
'Wow, you don't have to be defensive, I'm not here to fight.' He held up his hands. 'Do you want to go somewhere else? Maybe have a coffee? ’
Ginny knew inside that she shouldn't accept, not after knowing how he felt inside her, on top of her, kissing her body, sucking and licking certain parts, how he moaned her name and held her against him when he came, as if he wanted to be sure that she would feel what she did to him.
It was not a safe plan, it was a suicide mission.
'Of course, it will be better,' she said, ignoring all the warnings that it would not end well. Harry smiled, picking up the backpack he had placed on the floor and walking beside her, in silence.
His scent seemed to fill all around her, and Ginny had to work hard not to show that it was affecting her.
They didn't take long to arrive at the coffee shop, it was close by and Ginny's favorite to eat after a stressful day. All the meals were delicious, a warmth in the heart after a bad time. The decor was cheerful, in contrast to the gray London, the walls were colorful, the tables a cream color with flower pots in the middle, and it was as if winter or bad weather never arrived inside that environment. It was always summer there. The owner, Mrs. Rodrigues, was a friendly and adorable Brazilian, always smiling and talking to whoever came in.
'Hello, Miss Weasley, how are we on that gray afternoon?' The woman asked, with an accent that said she was not from there.
'Now, better than before.' Ginny smiled. ‘Just smelling your carrot cake, I’m already happy.’
'No, dear, don't say that or I will get used to it.' Mrs. Rodrigues blushed, and then smiled at Harry beside Ginny, fixing the white cap on her voluminous hair. ‘What will the two want today?’
'The carrot cake and the Pão de Queijo basket, please.' Ginny asked.
'A coffee, and ... the carrot cake too,' Harry said.
Mrs. Rodrigues wrote down and smiled at both of them, indicating an empty table further down, near the window and the various flowers that Ginny still did not know how she did to keep them alive, and the two went there, in silence, with only the Brazilian music playing in a pleasant volume filling the lack of conversation between them, the voice of some couples and teenagers was mixed by the environment.
'I didn't know you were my boss's son, I have to say that.' Ginny broke the silence first, looking at Harry in front of her, anxious hands playing with the flower pot on the table.
'If you knew...?' Harry seemed nervous for the answer, arms crossed on the table, green eyes fixed on her, waiting for Ginny to say what he should already know.
‘We wouldn’t have gone out together.’ She smiled sadly. 'You understand why, right? I mean, your dad is my boss, he wouldn’t see it in a good way, and my coworkers would think, in fact they already think, that I used this to get to be where I am.’
‘If you want to know, my dad has been trying to get me out with you since he met you.’ Harry said as if talking about the weather, shrugging and smiling, never diverting her attention. ‘I think he was just surprised that he didn’t know you were there, maybe he expected me to say that I went out with you or that someone would tell him, to see you there in the morning, it was something he didn’t expect.’
‘Did you know who I was at the bar?’
'No! No, I didn't know who you were. He was talking about his pupil, and all your qualities as an auror, and seriously, I don't think I've ever seen him speak so well of one of his young aurors.' Ginny wouldn't express, of course, but she felt a little of pride inside her, thinking of the times that Mr Potter put her into more rigid training than the others, just because "she learned faster than the others." He really believed in her potential! Take that, Elliot. ‘Mum thinks I'm dating you, after she heard you were there… She was a little upset that you ran away.’
'I didn't run away,' Ginny defended herself, laughing softly when she saw Harry laugh, imagining that she should be blushing like never before.'I needed to come to work, and I met my boss at the house of the guy I had sex with, there was no way I could stay for coffee.'
'You could.' Harry shrugged. 'Sorry I didn't warn you about my parents, it never happened before, and I was a little too busy.' He blinked, in the way that made Ginny feel like jelly, the slightly arched black eyebrow and the little smile that did it all seem a little too erotic for that afternoon. He didn't even seem to be trying to do that.
'What did not happen? You taking one of your father's Aurors to your home?' She joked, just to dissipate that heat that took over her body, and to remind her of who she was talking to. Son of your boss, son of your boss, son of your boss, Ginny repeated in her mind.
'That too, but I say about taking girls, in general, at home.' Harry licked his lips when the waiter brought their orders, smiling at both of them and apologizing for interrupting the conversation, placing the basket of Pão de Queijo in the middle of the table for the two, and the piece of cake in front of each other, in addition to Harry's coffee.
Ginny's stomach rumbled when she saw the delicious warm and fragrant Pão de Queijo, together with the delicious smell of carrot cake and brigadeiro, she even felt a little less nervous now that she had something else to pay attention to, other than the mesmerizing eyes from Harry.
None of them spoke much after they started eating, other than the moans of satisfaction they shared as soon as they ate the first pão de queijo, focused only on eating that delicious delicacy and letting the music take over their thoughts, as if it were normal for Harry and her shared a table in the afternoon, eating together and being used to the moment.
It was so simple to be with him, so familiar, that it scared Ginny a little bit, whenever she stopped to analyze.
'I feel like you're not going to accept that I ask you out, now that I know about your concern for your co-workers?' Harry asked, pulling the plate of cake closer and picking up a piece, looking focused on just looking at the slice, instead of for Ginny, and she missed his eyes on her.
'It's complicated,' she admitted, looking at her own slice. 'There are not many women in the Auror Department and they already think that I managed to be where I am, just because I did something for your father, and not because I deserved it and worked hard. You understand? It’s a little more difficult for us women to inhabit predominantly male places.’
'I understand.' Harry looked at her, and he didn't seem upset that she denied his request, he seemed upset about the reason that made her do this. 'But you know that you cannot live, listening and taking what they say about you as truth, you know? I'm not saying that for you to go out with me, it’s not that, it's just because ... Everything my father says about you, made me understand that he chose you because you were good, very good, in what you did. You know you are, and how you made it this far, is not what others will say that will change that. They don’t know anything.’
[...]
The days passed faster than Ginny expected, after the meeting with Harry, the hours were confused between studying for the test that would take place at the end of the month and working, Mr Potter did not comment on his son, and Harry did not appear for more. there too. Now that she was paying attention, Ginny noticed that there was a picture of the boy in the chief's office, Harry, a child, teenager, and adult, wearing the Arrows' uniform.
He also started to appear in the newspaper, now that he had officially joined the team, and it wasn't just a reserve, so Ginny ended up seeing him during breakfast, stamping the sports column.
She also saw him at night, before going to sleep, when they were calling to talk in the mirror, the two tired, telling about what the day had been like. She said she couldn't accept going out with him, not being a friend.
Although she thought things that friends did not think about each other, and sometimes Harry flirted with her, without much pretension, seeming to just do it naturally.
‘You’ve got to stop doing that’ He said, biting his lower lip as if he wanted to hold himself back from laughing, lying shirtless while talking to her, who was putting the books in the drawer, getting ready to go to bed.
'Doing what?' Ginny asked, taking the mirror from the dresser and going to the bed, leaving the candle light still on so he could see it.
‘Saying things that make me wanna kiss you’
'Harry ...' Ginny warned him, blushing like a tomato, only to hear him laugh and blink those beautiful green eyes towards her.
"I'm not doing anything, besides, your exams are next week, which means I'm almost close to being able to take you on a real date." They had agreed this, in fact, it was Ginny who brought it up. a week after the James incident, just because she started thinking hard about how good that night had been, and how much better it would be if there was no alcohol in her blood and she didn't have to face the boss the next morning, before she even brushed the teeth.
After she took the test, they could leave, but still, it was very public until the result came out. Ginny didn't want anyone to doubt her ability, nor did the fact that dating Harry influence James' thinking.
'But then, there is still a week to go.' She reminded him.
'How are you feeling?'
'Anxious,' she admitted, thinking again about how easy it was to open up to Harry. 'How was the training today?' He moved, the noise of the sheets making her think things inappropriate for that moment.
'Tiring, I have pain in my thighs.' Harry made a lovely face, his nose slightly wrinkled.
'Poor thing about you.' Ginny tuned her voice as if she were talking to a baby, which made the man laugh, something that always made Ginny have her ego boosted a thousand times.
Harry looked cute laughing.
'You could come here and help me, I know that Aurors know how to do very good healing spells.' He blinked, and this time it was Ginny who laughed.
'Shut up. Good night, Harry. 'Ginny felt and saw that her cheeks got even hotter, but Harry didn't seem affected, he seemed to approve of that.
'Good night, Weasley ... One week, I'm counting.' He smiled, and something inside her trembled in excitement and excitement so that the week would pass soon.
'I know you do, Potter. Bye. ’
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mochegato · 3 years
Text
Hope on Board
Chapter 27 – The Time Has Come to Talk of Many Things
Chapter 1     Chapter 26
Nightwing landed on the roof Chat had taken Marinette to and immediately rushed over to her.  He took a moment to study her, looking for any new indications of injury or distress. Assured there was none, he pulled her into a tight hug, unable to withhold touching her any longer.  He needed to know she was safe.  He needed to feel her in his arms, have that familiar weight.  He needed to hear her reassuring, even breathing, to calm his own erratic breathing.
Marinette let out a surprised squeak and looked over to Chat in confusion. Chat stared at Nightwing with a concerned frown but didn’t move to detach him from her.  Nightwing pulled away just enough to look at her face. He’d missed being able to look in her eyes.  He cursed his mask being between them.  Even with the mask, her eyes were sparkling in the moonlight but he would bet his guitar that her eyes would look even more beautiful, the sparkling even brighter, if he didn’t have his mask on.  He reached up to cup her face, but she stepped back before he could reach her.
Marinette eyed him suspiciously and looked back to Chat to see what his reaction would be.  Honestly, the most curious part of the whole situation was Chat just sitting back and letting Nightwing touch her like this.  Something was going on and they both knew what it was.  Chat would never allow just anyone to touch her in such an intimate way. He barely allowed it when Dick did it and he knew she had liked that contact.  She turned back to Nightwing with a slight look of fear.  If Chat was allowing him to touch her like this, what were they hiding?
Chat looked back and forth between the two for a few seconds before speaking up awkwardly.  “Well, I think you’re in safe hands now, Princess,” he nodded to Nightwing with a severe glare.  “I’ll leave you two to talk.”  
He gave a two-finger salute to them and jumped back toward the Court’s base. Marinette gave him a confused frown and turned back to Nightwing and raised a curious brow at him, her breathing picking up slightly. She waited a few moments for Nightwing to say something, but he seemed just as uncomfortable as Chat had, and unwilling to start the conversation.  “Is everyone okay?  Is Dick okay? Did anyone check on him?  If they wanted my son, they may have wanted him as well.”
“Everyone is fine,” Nightwing assured her gently, his expression softening slightly from her concern.
Marinette let out a sigh of relief but then noticed how he was standing.  He was cradling his side in a very familiar way. In the same way she and Chat would cradle their sides when they were injured in battle.  “You’re hurt!” she exclaimed, rushing toward him to examine the wound.
“I’ll be fine,” he tried to protest, but Marinette wouldn’t hear it.  She gave him an unimpressed look and pulled on his hand to move it.  He reluctantly took his hand from the claw marks for her to examine.  He hissed at her gentle prodding to gauge the severity of the wounds.  “Stitches at least,” she mused.  “You have someone that does that for you?”
“I do,” he nodded in affirmation, “back in the Cave.”
She nodded in approval, but the furrowed brow and slight frown of concern stayed in her expression.  Nightwing rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and looked around them.  The buildings were mostly uninhabited, but there were still a lot of floors that could be occupied and have people watching them.  He couldn’t just pull his mask off here and he couldn’t act too intimate in case someone saw and figured out who he was.  “Are you really okay?  Are the babies okay?  Did they do anything to you?  Why didn’t you wait for us?”
She blinked a few times to process the onslaught of questions.  “I knew Chat would come but I didn’t know he was bringing the cavalry,” she pouted.  Honestly, did he lecture everyone he saved?  “I didn’t know how long it would take him to find me and I sure as hell wasn’t just going to sit back and let them take me to a secondary location or use me and the babies as a human shield.  Do I look like a damsel in distress?”
“It was incredibly dangerous,” Nightwing objected, trying to fight down his admiration of her fiery streak.  He always knew she was fierce and feisty, but he hadn’t realized just how capable she was. Her belly looked like it weighed more than the rest of her, and she had still managed to make her way halfway to freedom on her own and help fight, albeit not much, in the last fight.  “They could have killed you for trying to escape.”
“I can protect myself,” she answered indignantly.  “I knew they wanted the babies for some reason, so they weren’t going to hurt me too badly and risk harming them, which gave me an advantage because I had no such qualms.  I was willing to do what I had to in order to protect my babies,” she protested, laying both her hands over her belly in a protective gesture.  “It was more dangerous for me to just sit around and hope.”
“Well, you definitely never have been the wait around type,” Nightwing chuckled affectionately.  He watched her intently for a few moments, a concerned frown settling on his lips. “You sure you’re going to be okay? An ordeal like this… maybe it would be better to stay somewhere with better security for a while.”
Marinette raised an eyebrow at him.  “You have a suggestion?”
Nightwing rubbed the back of his neck.  It was now or never… well not never, but he had to do it now.  He’d put it off for too long.  She’d waited for too long.  He took a deep breath to ground himself and prepare for the long overdue conversation.  “Marinette, I…”  His reveal was interrupted by Marinette groaning in pain and crouching down. “What happened?  Are you okay?”
“No. I knew I shouldn’t have tempted fate.  That was a contraction,” she looked down at her belly for a few moments. When she looked back up, her eyes were sparkling with surprise and anxiety and anticipation.  Finally, her eyes seemed to settle on concern.  “And I’m really early.”
“The doctor said you probably would be,” Nightwing said with a calm he didn’t actually feel.  His tone was even but his mind was going faster than Wally trying to break a sound barrier.  Everything that they needed to do, everything that might happen, everything that they had yet to discuss.  But the most important thing right now was getting Marinette to a hospital.  He reached out to guide her to the stairs.
“How did you know that?” She asked suspiciously, pulling her arm away from him.
“We need to get you to the hospital,” he answered instead, attempting to guide her toward the door to the stairway again.  Once they were in the safety of the stairwell, he touched his ear. “Agent A, we need a car here immediately to take us to the hospital and a change of clothes, if you could.”
She shook her head and took a deep breath and let it out slowly grimacing in pain. “I need to contact Dick.  He should know.”
Nightwing smiled lovingly at her.  He ran his hand over her hair and cupped her face.  “I’m right here.”
Marinette batted his hand away and furrowed her brow with an annoyed huff. “No offense, but I couldn’t give less of a fuck if you’re here.  He’s the father, he should know.  He’ll want to be there.”
“Marinette…” he took off his mask and looked to her with soft eyes.  “I’m here.”
Marinette stared in awe at him for a few seconds.  “Dick…” She touched his face carefully, reverently, like she didn’t believe it.  
“It’s me, Mari,” he said again, more gently this time, more vulnerable.  He reached out to touch her again, this time she let him.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.  This is what I didn’t tell you before.”
She shook her head blankly.  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered.
“What?” Dick asked, quirking his head to the side.  He expected a lot of different reactions to his reveal.  That was not one of them.  He was fully prepared for anger, hoping for forgiveness, but expected annoyance.
She looked up at the ceiling with an annoyed glare.  “Very fucking funny.”  Suddenly she gripped his hand hard and let out a pained whine.  “Of course I’d end up with a hero.”  She looked back up at him as they slowly made their way down the stairs.  She suddenly stopped and stood rigidly straight.  “Oh my God, I was wearing a Nightwing shirt and you were wearing a ladybug shirt when we met.” She groaned and bent over.  “How did I miss that!”
“It’s okay, just breathe through it,” Nightwing encouraged her, rubbing reassuring circles on her back.
“That was a groan of frustration not pain.  I should have called that, the cosmic joke that my life is.”  She turned to face him with a narrow-eyed glare.  “But if you say that to me when I do have a contraction, I’ll make you understand the pain making me make that sound.”  She turned forward again and started making her way slowly down the stairs.  “Just breathe through it,” she mocked.
Nightwing grimaced.  “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.  “That’s what the videos said to say.  To help breathe through the contractions.  Relaxing your muscles as much as possible and focusing on breathing instead, makes the pain seem less intense.”
“What kind of an idiot came up with that idea?  Guarantee it was a man.  Silly women, just breathe,” she continued in a mocking tone.  “I’ll perform an appendectomy on him and see how just breathing helps him with the pain,” she grunted as she waddled down the stairs.
She paused mid stride and groaned in pain again.  Nightwing was at her side in an instant, holding her hand and rubbing the small of her back and applying pressure to try to offset the contractions. As soon as the contraction passed, Marinette watched him analytically.  He was suddenly very close to her, his face mere centimeters from hers as he encouraged her.  She quirked her lips to the side, trying to figure out how she felt.  
Dick was here.  He was here! He had come to rescue her.  And likely everything he had done, everything he had lied about, was related to his secret identity.  But it was more than that, wasn’t it?  It was more than just the secret.  She was keeping secrets from him, secrets she wasn’t ready to share until or unless she trusted him and she didn’t, not anymore.  She narrowed her eyes at him again.  “This is what you couldn’t tell me?  This is what you lied to me about?” she asked confused.  “You knew about my history with Chat and still thought I wouldn’t understand this?”
“I was tracking down a plot by the Court of Owls.  When the talon said they had to change plans due to their latest failure, my team was the one that caused that.  That was where I was going when we had that fight,” he answered quietly.
“And you thought, what?  I wouldn’t understand?  I’d freak out?  Demand you leave it to be with me?” she demanded indignantly.
“I thought…” he hedged, his voice uncertain.  “I thought I needed to protect you and if you knew you’d stop me. But I needed to do it.  I needed to know I had protected you and our family.”
She gripped his hand and squeezed it, letting out a scream of pain and breathing heavily.  “You absolute bastard.”
“Yeah, deserved,” he looked away guiltily.
“Oh, thank you for your permission,” she bit out harshly.  “You’re damn right it’s deserved.  Do you know how miserable I was when I realized you had lied to me? How confused I was?  How lost I was?  And you wouldn’t even try to give any kind of an explanation.  Nothing!  I questioned everything.  I thought you and your friends were doing something illegal.  And then I was wrestling with myself because that didn’t seem right at all, but if that wasn’t it, I couldn’t figure out why you would hide it.  So then I thought maybe you were getting forced into something you didn’t want to do, but then your family seemed to know what was going on so I thought that was unlikely.  I thought you didn’t care about me.” She shook her head to try to calm her anger and returned to his words.  “What was I to you then?  An inconvenience you had to handle while you ran away to do your macho man business?”
“No! No, Marinette.  I… was stupid and I was so caught up in protecting you and our babies, I… I’m sorry,” he pled.
“You certainly are.”  She shook her head and opened her mouth to continue berating him but let out another scream instead.  
“Those are really close together.”  He took note of the time to start calculating the time between contractions and made a mental calculation of how much longer it should take Alfred to get there.  “Agent A should be here in just a few minutes,” Nightwing assured her.
“Agent A?”
“Alfred,” he elucidated.
“Of course,” she sighed with a nod.  Her eyes suddenly opened wide.  “Oh God, it’s your whole family isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he grimaced at her tone.
She shook her head again.  “Figures.” She glared up at the sky again.  “A normal life.  That’s all I asked for.  As normal as possible.  But noooooo. Can’t let even one thing be normal.  Can’t get a freaking break, because Destiny is a petty, mean bitch and has to get their sticky, meddling fingers into everything,” she muttered bitterly.  She looked over to Dick with pursed lips and sighed. “Better put on your mask again unless you’re ready to let all Gotham know your identity.”
Dick’s eyes got wide again.  “Oh Right!” He pulled the domino mask out of his pocket and affixed it again before pushing open the door to the sidewalk and the waiting car.
Tags:
@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123 @lady-bee-fechin @thewitchwhowaited @redscarlet95 @jayjayspixiepop
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redhoodieone · 3 years
Text
Welcome Home
A/N: Hi everyone! This is an old fic that I’m re-posting for those who want to read it. Enjoy!
WARNINGS: Language and Smut.
  I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.
It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…
I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.
But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.
Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).
Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.
I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.
I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?
Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.
As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:
Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.
Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).
Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.
Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…
But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?
I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.
I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.
I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?
After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?
I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.
 Dear Lady Y/N,
I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.
I dearly love you and the boys,
 Love Alfred Pennyworth
P.S.
Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.
 I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.
“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”
“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.
“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”
His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.
“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”
Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.
“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.
“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.
“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.
“Was he any good?”
Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.
“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.
“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”
I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!
“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”
I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”
As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.
I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.
“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.
“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.
Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.
“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.
“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.
“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”
“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”
“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.
I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?
The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”
“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.
“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”
“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.
“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.
With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.
Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.
Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.
“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.
“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.
“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.
I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.
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helleiaiwritting · 3 years
Text
Blodwyn- One Shot
Hey Guys !
How are you today?  This afternoon, I wrote this one-shot after discovering this beautiful name "Blodwyn" which means "white flower". (I’m not sur of the origin of the country sometimes it said England or Wales or Ireland).
Resumed: Blodwyn try to impress Ivar but it turn soon to an  unexpected reversal of the situation...
Warning: Blodwyn is reckless... Ivar  has a step ahead...
Pairing:
Ivar x Reader (no more detail for surprise
***
She was about on the verge of giving up, doubt seized her abruptly. Was this a good idea? 
On a whim, the 15-year-old girl had the sudden idea to take on her mother's identity to confront the most dangerous man of her time: Ivar Ragnarson. She couldn't understand why her mother refused to raise an army against him. Yet the threat was real. 
The Viking had conquered the neighboring kingdom.
Secretly, she had arranged to meet Ivar on a plain. Worried, she arrived at the meeting place early. The hours were ticking and she could see no one on the horizon...
 For his part, Ivar had learned of the young girl's deception. As he was always one step ahead, he decided to turn the situation to his advantage. He had been watching her for a few minutes behind the forest...
Then, losing all hope, the girl got ready to return to her family's castle. She was bitterly surprised to see dozens of archers coming out of nowhere and threatening her with their arrows. Then panic took over, she saw him, Ivar Ragnarson, coming out of nowhere. The unpredictable Viking king came closer and closer to her. She thought she was going to faint when she realized the gravity of her act. But it was too late, she could not turn back. She was struck by the coldness which emanated from the attractive face of her interlocutor.
"It's not wise to come alone to a place like this" said Ivar quickly.
"It doesn't matter" she replied.
"Who are you,I taugh that (Y/N) expected to see me ? " Ask Ivar.
"... It's me" replied the girl shyly.
"That's not the memory I have of her."
"Believe what you want, I refuse to put my people in danger for savages who in addition to invading my lands do not know punctuality!" Said the girl who was trying to regain her facade in front of the king.
The girl found herself trapped, she didn't expect Ivar to know her mother.
But she did not know that she had in front of him a formidable opponent in the art of manipulation.
Although the face of Ivar hardened and made reappear coldness, inside, he was impressed by the audacity of the girl.
"Let's get to the point, Ivar, I'll give you two days to get off my land. If not, or you will know the coldness of my blade." She replied, trying to be as credible as possible.
This triggered a discreet laugh from Ivar as he was detached from the conversation. He quickly regained his seriousness and fixed the girl with a dark look. This time the comedy had to stop, he brought her back to reality in one sentence:
"You will do nothing of the sort" said in a threatening tone Ivar.
"And why not, you..." The girl began before being rudely cut off by the Viking king
"You would dare to raise a weapon against your own father Blodwyn?"
...
The shock was brutal for the girl, it was completely unexpected. This sentence unnerved her and it got even worse when Ivar showed her a pendant that she automatically recognized. She knew that both of her parents had the same pendant, it was a sign that allowed her to recognize themself.
She lost all credibility instantly and felt ridiculous. She didn't know what to say or do. As if her confidence automatically disappeared.
"... There's no proof that you're my father, you're probably saying that to..."
"BLODWYN! Have you lost your mind!?" Interrupted a voice that Ivar instantly recognized: it was the real queen (Y/N). Instantly, she pulled her daughter behind her out of protective instinct and found herself in front of Ivar.
"Ivar! What are you doing here?"
"Glad to see you too. Tell me (Y/N), were you aware that your daughter was impersonating you?"
"Our daughter ! "Rectified (Y/N) " And no i didn't know ! "
"Physically, she looks like you"
"It would be wrong to know her. Ivar be nice to her! She is hypersensitive!"
"Really? A few minutes ago, she wanted to attack me" Ivar replied sarcastically.
(Y/N) sighed before resuming.
"What's the idea of coming here with an army when you know full well you're welcome? And then you scare her. How do you want to bond with her?" Asked (Y/N) not understanding her husband's reaction.
Ivar rolled his eyes before looking at his daughter with fondness.
"She's stubborn."
"Just like you were at her age!" replied (Y,N) before moving on. "You're wrong Ivar, she has exactly your personality. She never gives up when she has an idea in mind.
Ivar smiled wickedly before walking over to Blodwyn and giving her a hug. The girl quickly let her guard down and felt safe.
"I feel stupid suddenly," the girl said.
"You're not, little flower, you just need to learn the art of war." Ivar replied with pride.
@youbloodymadgenius. @saoirsehime2000
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kadhis-stuff · 3 years
Text
You can’t keep a secret forever
Summary: How is a woman supposed to tell her husband, who has been married to her for almost 7 years now, that she can read minds? That she has been able to since the first moment they met?
This is a gift for @nonokoko13​! (AO3 link). I hope you enjoy it! Here’s my little contribution to the Damianya part of the fandom :)
Anya’s unstoppable right foot shook so hard that the dining table moved to her tune, causing a metallic sound from the table legs hitting the floor. Her hands joined forming a fist that was holding her chin. She was staring at the ceiling of her house, looking for some inspiration on what to do. As if the ceiling tiles were an almighty god with all the answers willing to share with mere mortals.
Anya was concerned. A concerned 26-year-old woman. A concern police officer in these peaceful times. She never told anyone about this. Not even her parents. It was an intrinsic part of herself. It grew to be normal on her. Part of what defines what Anya Forger-Desmond is.
How is a woman supposed to tell her husband, who has been married to her for almost 7 years now, that she can read minds? That she has been able to since the first moment they met?
What people has always said about her is that she is a very perceptive person. And as the years went by, she got better at hiding it. No one has been able to hide a secret from her for long. And that is something that, today, was making Damian miserable.
Damian decided that this year was going to be the year. He will blow her mind with the most astonishing surprise ever. He will prove to her that he still has it, after all these years of marriage. For her to remember the feeling of being on the lookout and not knowing what to expect. The knowledge of something coming her way without a clue of what might that be.
Two things were wrong with Damian’s assumptions. First, he has never, ever, surprised her. Not on purpose at least, not by planning something out. He shouldn’t need to prove that he still has anything in that regard. And secondly, she doesn’t know how it feels to be non-puzzled because people usually think about the surprises while they are being planned or revealed. She hasn’t figure it out a way to put a spoiler alert tag on people, so she just deals with it.  
Why was Damian getting so frustrated about this lately?
The worst part is that his poker face is too good. There are times in which she knows what Damian is truly thinking just because she can read his mind. Instead, she is an open book.
Faking surprise? Yeah, that has never worked out for her before.
After faking a face, she is always hit by the thoughts “Oh, she saw it coming” “She knew about it” “Surely Becky told her” “Surely Damian told her” “Am I this bad at lying?”
His husband was feeling insecure and he did not tell her, she knows it because she is able to read. His. Mind.
What to do? What to do?
She growled at the ceiling tiles.
She truly thought she was going to be able to take this secret to her tomb. She never told Mama and Papa, and the only one that -probably- knew it, was Bond.
She took a sip of the hot chocolate she prepared to help herself think. Why did she decide to keep it a secret from them all these years?
Right. That night. When she was just an 8-year-old.
~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V
She had the popcorn’s bowl in her lap. Mama was on her right, watching the movie. Papa was on her left, reading a book. Bond was lying in front of her, eyes closed, unfazed by the fighting sounds coming from the TV. It was the latest Spy Wars movie. One of the bad guys had the ability to read minds with a machine.
Loid and Yor already knew about each other secret lives and after a bit dramatic fight, they accepted each other identities and decided to live together after all.  Which made possible for Anya to live a real life with them. And she was pondering the possibility to tell them. To also come clean of secrets. For them to be the first people in her life to know. So, she gathered courage, her hands forming fists and asked with the most casual tone she could gathered “Isn’t that cool?”
“What, Anya?” Asked Yor cocking her head with closed eyes and her always gentle smile, who was paying attention to the movie.
“Being able to read minds”. No, she cannot do it. Oh shit, she was already doing it. Panic. She ate a handful of popcorn at once. Swallowed it quickly to continue. “What do you think about that?”
Loid was the first to reply, in his detached matter-of-fact way of speaking, so serious and yet so smooth “Well, even if it is certainly an advantage it might be dangerous. It seems that the machine could blow out at any minute now”
Not the answer she was hoping. Anya wanted to divert the attention from the movie. Was Papa even paying attention to it? He was supposed to be reading. “But think about it in real life” she took her mother’s hand. She wanted to ask ‘what if I was the one reading minds’ but she was too scared to hear the answer, so she said the next thing she thought about. “What if mama were able to read our minds all the time?”
“M-Me?” A soft pink colored her cheeks, and she gave it a thought. “It could be a little tiring I guess, not being able to focus on my own mind because everybody is thinking around me”
That was an accurate way to describe it. Although Anya was getting better at handling it.
“It will probably be weird for the people around her.” Her father got her attention in a second, now we were talking. “I wouldn’t be able to look Yor in the eyes the same way again.”
“Why?” And her voice was probably a pitch higher than before.
“If a person can read your mind, they will know you better than anyone else. They will know what you think even if it is not what you chose to say, so they will not only know the person you want to be or the one you are trying to become, but they will know the true you. And that is something terrifying somehow. Not all people will be able to handle that.”
“Will you get away from mama if she was able to read minds?”
“No, I don’t have secrets from Mama anyway”
But Anya could read minds. And she knew what Loid’s real answer was. She still tried one more time.
“And you Mama, will you stay with Papa even if he was able to read your mind?”
“Of course, sweetheart”
But the devasting truth was that both were terrified of the idea. And although they didn’t directly think “yes, I will leave”, they both imagined multiple situations in which they would rather die from shame than letting the counterpart know their deepest secrets.
“I see” was all that Anya was able to say, while shrinking more into the couch.
“Why are you making that face Anya?” Yor asked, hugging her shoulders with one hand. “Nobody is able to read minds, so you don’t need to worry about it”.
But she did worry about it. Because at the short age of eight, she swore to herself to never reveal her deepest secret to anyone. It was something bad. It was something to be ashamed of. Anya would rather die than letting anybody know about it and let them treat her differently because of it.
~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V
But here she was. Pondering her options. Because maybe the truth was what Damian needed right now. Maybe he could be the first. Maybe she could trust him to not destroy her feelings with utter rejection.
Two weeks ago, Becky invited her for lunch and, as usual, she was telling her about the latest sweetheart she was dating. The conversation ended up shifting to Damian and Anya’s long-term relationship. This year they were going to celebrate the 7 years anniversary.  
“There’s a saying, you know?” said Becky casually, taking the dessert spoon when the waiter brought her ‘Golden Opulence’ sundae. “If a marriage remains together after seven years, they will be together forever.”
“Non-sense, there wouldn’t be divorces after 10 years then.”
“I mean it, Anya. It’s called The Seven Year Itch”
Anya rolled her eyes and started to eat her own dessert. “And what’s supposed to happen on the 7th year?”
“Monotony. Love ends. People get bored. They feel like the compatibility is no longer there. That the other person just ‘don’t get it’ anymore.”
The last part caught Anya’s attention. Why was that ringing a bell on her head?
And then she remembered all the times along the year that Damian tried to do different things for her, which all ended up in a frustrated husband.
Could Damian fear they were not compatible anymore?
Anya face twisted like an open book to Becky.
“How is it going with Damian, Anya?” She had concern in her eyes. And Anya knew it was real concern. Becky took her hand over the table “Everything ok at home?”
“Yeah,” she tried to dismiss it with a smile “everything is fine”
But hey, she was friends with Becky for over 20 years now. And Anya did not really know how to lie to save her life.
Becky insisted.
“Okay, well, there might be something” twirling her fingers in rounds, looking to the ground pouting, Anya mumbled indescribable words to Becky before finally saying it: “I think Damian is a bit concern about the fact that he can’t surprise me”
“Nobody can surprise you. You are too good at reading people. And a terrible liar.”
“And he has known about it for years now!” Yes Becky, agree with her. It was not her fault. It was not her fault. “It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, right?”
“Then why do you think he is concerned about that?” Becky was confused.
Because she knew.
A couple days back, Damian got up earlier to cook her favorite breakfast and took it to her bed. But Anya knew that it was going to happen before hand because he bought and hid the ingredients the day before, so she did her best sleepy surprised expression and started to eat.
Damian’s thoughts were loud in his head “Loser. I cannot even surprise her when she is half asleep. Nothing works”
But he did not tell her that, instead, he kissed her forehead and walk out of the room with the excuse of meeting his brother early that day. Lie. He just wanted to be out of there. Away from her.
Anya replied: “He told me he feels bad because he can’t surprise me, I just want him to know that it is not his fault”
“Well, there’s a limit on how perceptive a person can be. I had surprise you before. It’s hard, yes, but possible. It might be kind of his fault” Actually, Becky surprised her on a moonless night.
“It is not” Anya hit her head into the table with a defeated expression on her face “I need him to understand that”.
She can only get surprised on moonless days. But how to explain it without telling the truth?
And here she was.
Thinking.
Considering.
Pondering.
Did it worth the risk?
She was so deeply scared about how hard she wanted to tell him. How hard she wanted to trust him. To believe he will love her no matter what. She has known Damian since he was 6 years old. She knows how good or bad he can be. The deepest secrets of his heart. What makes him happy even if he has never openly said so. There is no human being that she knows better than him.
Damian was certainly going to panic.
But will he overcome it? Accept it?
She was so scared that she picked today, a moonless day, to do so. She wasn’t strong enough to hear the rejection coming from him. Her heart wouldn’t handle it. No matter if he later thinks twice about it and accept it. She couldn’t stand the idea of hearing him fear her.
She heard the doorknob opening and her mind went blank, her back ran cold and her hands got sweaty. Was it right? Would it help him to know? Would it make it worst? She doesn’t know.
“I’m home”
He immediately noticed the distressed on his wife. “Is everything alright?”
“No” elbows on the table, she just holds her forehead with her fists. Eyes closed “Can you please take a sit? We need to talk”.
Damian did as requested, showing a hint of concern in his face.
Although a part of Anya appreciated the silence for her to gather her thoughts in order, the other part wanted to peek into Damian’s head and see what he was thinking.
“I know you have been mad a lot lately”.
She looked at him right in the eyes. It seemed to take him aback.
“Me? Mad? About what?” He deviated his gaze quickly, as if looking for a better answer. He was also a terrible liar, somehow.
“About the fact that you can’t surprise me”
Damian’s eyes turned sad, avoiding her gaze he just stared at the table. “Am I that much of an open book to you?”
“No- Yes. Err, something like that”
Still avoiding her gaze, he moved his eyes to the window next to them. “I’m sorry for not being able to do the same for you”
She took his hand over the table; he was still refusing to look at her.
“Damian, please look at me”
She squeezed his hand. He finally did.
“There’s something important I need to tell you. It might sound crazy, but it is the truth. And I’m terrified of telling you. Nobody” and she repeated the word with all the emphasis she could gathered in her voice “Nobody, knows about this. It is my most guarded secret and I swore to myself that I will take it to my tomb”
That got Damian’s attention. Momentarily forgetting how shitty of a husband he was feeling lately.
“I love you, Damian. And I trust you” she was scared. So scared that Damian’s hand was wet with her sweat now. “And I will tell you”
This is it. She will say it. Her heart was beating faster than ever. She was going to reveal her deepest secret.
“The reason why neither you nor anyone can’t surprise me is because…”
Silence. She bits her lip. She cannot face him. She stops to stare at his eyes and lowers her gaze.
“Because…”
Damian squeezes her hand softly this time, encouraging her to talk.
She sighs. Shuts her eyes harder. Takes a big breath and hold it for a couple seconds, until finally releasing it, talking as fast as she could “BecauseICanReadMinds”
Damian asks her to repeat herself, slowly this time.
“Because I can… read minds”
Of course, Damian doesn’t believe it. He drops her hand and stand up from the table. So much mystery and expectation for a joke. He was truly feeling bad about it and Anya wanted to do one of the weird jokes in an honestly bad time.
Damian was feeling insecure. He heard about the Seven Year Itch at work early that year. And he realized that without space for doubts Anya was the person that knew the most about him. But did he know about her the same way? Did he pay enough attention? And what about the relationship? Was he getting monotonous? Will Anya look for other men that can provide her the excitement she so dearly appreciates in her life? How much can she stand his own inaptitude?
So yeah, Damian is pretty pissed off. He gives her his back and walks towards the bedroom for some cooling off time.
“I’m telling the truth!” he hears her say.
He stops on his track and looks at her sideways. “Yeah? What am I thinking right now?”
She feels like stabbed. She didn’t think he was going to assume it was a lie. She was worried about a bunch of other scenarios. “I don’t know! It doesn’t work on days without moon!”
“How convenient. Should I assume today is a New Moon day?”
Damian was already reaching the shared bedroom when Anya took his hand to stop him. Once he entered the room, he was going to shut the door and keep her out for a couple hours until to cool down. He always did it when he was truly pissed off. She knows it and doesn’t want to let him do it. Because once he cools off, she could get cold feet and now that she has resolved to tell him, she did not want to brush it off as a joke or something like that.
“Damian, look at my eyes”
He ignored her.
She took his head with one hand and made him face her. “Look at me”
He finally did.
“I’m telling you the truth. I am adopted. People did things to me when I was a kid, in a lab. I can read minds since I am 3 years old. I had read your mind since the first time I met you. Every day. Except on days when there’s no moon in the sky”
And Damian does know something about his wife. She cannot lie to him to save his life. That is why even if she has tried to act surprised for years, he has always known when she was faking it. He thought it was because she pitied him. He was bad at surprises, and because he couldn’t properly catch her off guard, she fakes it. What Anya was just saying…? Could it be true?
“Why are you telling me this on the day you can’t prove it?”
“Because I’m terrified on what you might be thinking about me.” After saying that, she broke the eye contact with him “I do not want to hear your rejection.” She lets his hand loose “I might still hear it tomorrow, because you can’t trick your own thoughts. I will know the truth. But I couldn’t do it today.”
Damian knows with certainty; he does love his wife. He has loved her for many years now and undoubted he will do it for many years to come. He could not stand watching her like this. It broke his heart. He holds her in a tight hug.
The moment he hugged her Anya started to cry. He spoke softly into her ear “What you are telling me right now is so nonsensical, absurd. Crazy. But I want you to know that no matter what, I love you. And I won’t reject you even if you were an alien from another planet”
Her shuddering sobs started to calm down “Even if I came from Pluto? It is not a planet.”
“Even then, Anya”
She holds him tight “I am sorry”
“About what”
“Being unable to fake my surprise face and making you sad about it”
He removed a tear from her cheek before placing a small kiss on her lips “I preferred it that way. That makes me enjoy more when I see you genuinely surprised. Maybe that’s why I try so hard.”
They stood there for a while, in a comfortable silent hug.
“So how does it work?” He asked.
“Well, I can hear what you think in front of me. If I concentrate enough, I can hear a specific person several feet away”
“Can you know something about a person that is not actively thinking it in that moment?”
“Like look into a person’s memories?”
“Yeah”
“No, I can’t. Just what they are thinking at that time.”
“I see”
Silence again.
Damian broke it, again. Flustered this time “So you have been able to read my mind all this time?”
“Yes”
“W-were you able to read it when I was thinking of kissing you for the first time?”
“Every time until you finally did it” She laughs.
Damian was full red-faced at this point “Did you also read it on Becky’s 18th birthday party?”
Anya’s cheeks dyed pink at the memory “Y-Yeah”
This time Damian covered his face with both of his hands. “Did you read it on our wedding?”
“No” That got him out of the ashamed-zone for a second.
“Why?”
“I ensure it was on a moonless day. I didn’t want to get myself overwhelmed by all the guest’s thoughts on such special day”
Silence.
“That makes sense”
“Yeah”
More silence.
“So, you can’t read them today even if you try hard?”
“Not a single word”
He nods with his head.
“I think I get it”
“Are you not like… feeling weird?”
“Yes, I am”
“… Would you have preferred for me to not tell you never about this?”
He denied with his head “Thank you for telling me, it must have been hard”
“Not even my parents know”
“Really?”
“Really”
Anya didn’t need to read his head to know that he was feeling pretty cocky about it. It was painted all over his face.
More silence.
Out of the blue, Damian started to laugh. He brushed his hair with his fingers and looked at her with sparkles in his eyes.
“I swear I will surprise you this Christmas”
She laughs.
“And how are you going to do that?”
“Now that I know how you do it, I will train myself from here to December. I will need your help, though”
“I will gladly help”
She smiled.
“I love you”
He smiled.
“I love you too”
She figured it out it was okay to tell him the other secret not even her parents knew. If we are coming clean, we are coming clean about everything.
“You know… I am also two years younger. I lied about my age for my papa to adopt me.”
Damian thought about it for several minutes. Face full red again once he talked.
“Y-You were sixteen on Becky’s party!?”
~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V
After that day back in August, they set up a calendar on the fridge door marking the moonless days. The day after “the talk”, Damian spent all morning having a talk to her. Or more like, keeping his mouth shut while she was keeping the conversation out loud with Damian playing with the fact that he can hold a conversation with her without pronouncing a single word.
It had been fun, somehow, watching Damian adapt to his new life over the months.
He soon realized Anya probably knew about all the people he had wanted to kill at some point. She also knew when he thinks about another woman being pretty. She totally knew when he lied to her about enjoying some new food she cooked. She knew when he was being mean with people in his head without reason.
He sometimes forgets and still lies to her. Then, he gets self-conscious about the fact she already knows the truth and apologize for lying.
He has also caught her off guard and surprised her already a couple times. The trick is to think about literally anything else near her and plan the surprises when she is not close by. A bit more difficult, but definitely more gratifying.
She knew all the good and all the bad that was in his mind, and after seeing everything she still loved him. She has always known, since he was a child, and after all this time she was not only still his friend but accept him as a partner to spend her life with.
How can he ever have doubts about her feelings again? How if she already knew everything about him and accepted him as he is?
Is it fair to be blessed in this life with the sincere and absolute love of a person that truly knows you?
For Anya, the feeling was mutual. The first weeks she cried of happiness almost every day. Damian didn’t leave her. He accepted it. Looked for ways to make it work. Embraced it as a challenge to surpass together. As a team.
~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V~V
On the Christmas day Anya woke up with an alarm’s sound coming from Damian’s side of the bed. She tried to move him to shut it off, but she just found an empty space next to her. A note left in his pillow. She opened her eyes and started to read it with a sleepy face, after shutting the damn thing off.
“Anya,
I’m sorry I was not there to kiss you a good morning today. I needed the alarm so you could eat your breakfast while it was still hot. Please get out of the bed and go to the kitchen. There’s a surprise waiting for you there”
Anya’s smile was big in her face. What? She was enjoying the fact that she had zero clues about this.
She didn’t put shoes on and went out of the bedroom in a second, to the kitchen. The first thing she noticed in the hallway was the strong smell of roses.
The image that welcomed her left her speechless. There were fresh flowers everywhere and in her seat of the dining table there was a full set of plates and another note.
“There is fruit, fresh baked croissants, fried eggs and bacon. Plenty of orange juice and a big peanut can. You can either finish the peanuts after breakfast or carry them with you along the day for a snack. And because I didn’t want you to eat in silence, please go to take the TV remote and turn it on.”
She took a bite of one of the croissants and did as commanded. A video of recaps of their wedding day played with Bryan Adams’ “I do it for you” acoustic version playing in the background. After certain pictures there was a message.  
The first photo in the video was one of Anya entering the church. “The moment I saw you step into the hallway, I cried”. The next one, was a photo of Damian crying in his suit. “Because the only thing that was crossing my mind was that I was the luckiest man in the world. You looked like an angel. The most stunning woman was walking in my direction, to declare to myself and the world that she willingly will spend all her life next to me. You continuously make me the best version of myself, Anya”. A third photo: Anya signing the official documents. “Or that’s what I would probably have been thinking if my brain hasn’t done shortcut at that moment”. The next photo that flashes across the screen was one of both exiting the church holding each other hand. “I swear to you I couldn’t think of anything. My mind was a loop of ‘wow’ until the priest started talking and I then I was forced to focus to remember my vows”.
Anya was shaking. A couple tears were rolling down her cheeks. She got pretty emotional watching the video. Several pictures of the party followed without any more messages until the end of the video. She finished the breakfast and took the peanuts can. A message showed up on the TV: “I know the bed is tempting on a Christmas day without responsibilities. But please go and get yourself ready. It is a sunny beautiful day, what about a walk in the park? Make sure to wear comfortable shoes.”
She went back to the bedroom, took a quick shower and got a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt and her favorite sneakers. On top of them, another note.
“I knew you would pick these ones. They are old Anya, let me give you new ones with the same color and style. Your refusal is non-negotiable this time around.”
Anya laughed, no. She will keep them until they are torn, and her toes shows at the front. What is a little worn shoe sole and colorless sections? She loves those shoes. He gave them to her a few years back, when she broke a heel in a night outgoing and the only opened store only sold sneakers. The note continuous
“A boy selling newspapers will be waiting for you in the park. He’s wearing a red t-shirt”
So, to the park it is.
It was a sunny day indeed. A lot of people with the day off were having a blast with their families, kids playing with dogs, old people playing chest, fathers and mothers teaching her kids how to use a bicycle for the first time. She wanted to be reunited with her family too.
It was easy to find the boy. He was so nervous that his thoughts were louder than the people around him “Pink haired woman, give it only to a pink haired woman that uses old shoes. Pink haired woman.”
“Hello there, are you the newspaper boy I’m looking for?”
He took a quick glance at her shoes and then cleared his throat looking for a newspaper in his bag. “They told me the job-hunting section was filled with important information, agent Peanut.”
Anya smiled. So that is what this is about. “Thank you, have a good day.”
While she was getting away to search for a free bench to sit on, she heard the thoughts of the boy running in the opposite direction “I need to tell the man I already did it”
She opened the newspaper, there was a pen marking the start of the section the boy mentioned. She read over the lines carefully until she noticed the pattern. The same they used in episode 703 of “Spy Wars”. The secret code was easy to decipher. Each line had two dots marking each one a letter. The letter that was in the middle of the two marked ones was the one she needs to mark in a circle. And reading it from bottom to top, she will get the message.
“Train station. 53. Seat 9A.”
Anya closed the newspaper and run towards the train station. Laughing her heart out. Such a fun morning. What was Damian planning to do?! She opened the peanuts can that brought with her and eat a few “Crazy man.”
She found out the train she was supposed to take was going to the city borders. In the seat 9A there was an envelope. She opened it.
“Agent Peanut, we have captured your husband. We will torture him until he reveals your deepest secrets. Do not even try to come to the old peanut’s abandoned factory outside the city where we have our secret liar. Coordinates: 51.08342, 10.423447”
The envelope also had the ticket for the ride. Anya rolled her eyes. Damian loved to make fun of the fact that the villain always gave its secret liar address to the good guys as if screaming “go and get me if you dare”. It was never this painfully obvious in the show. Except on episode 113, the one about ‘Bad-Man and the pâtissier heist’.
The train was already in movement when she heard a voice. “Ticket, please?”
She stared at the man and could hear his thoughts “Pink hair, green eyes”. “Are you Miss Peanut?”
A light blushed enlighten her face. It was ok for the newspaper boy to say it but having a fellow adult calling her that was a bit shameful “Yes”
The man took a backpack from the compartments above her seat. “This is for you”
The man left after marking her ticket, leaving her alone to explore the inside of the backpack. She covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my god”
There were a couple toy guns with 30 bullets each. A belt to hold them. A water bottle, a black t-shirt, cap and sunglasses. There was also another envelope.
“Hey, don’t you dare abandon me.”
A quick sketch of a Damian tied to a chair saying ‘help’ was on the upper right corner of the paper.
Anya bit her lower lip and whispered the answer to herself: “Never”
She was able to change her clothes before reaching the destination. From the station, it was just a 15 minutes’ walk.  
Her heart was beating fast. This was exciting. Damian was giving her surprise after surprise and she was loving it. It wasn’t even a moonless day. How come he did not think about this the previous days? He (his mind) usually won’t shut up whenever there’s a big surprise coming. Now that he knows she can read minds; did he take extra precautions? He on purpose force himself to think about everything but this? He was literally thinking about the Christmas lunch and where to go. Planning dinner with her parents. Was it a trick? Or will they go after this? What is it? She took some things for granted today and thought about the surprise being a gift in a box that she’ll open in the family dinner. This was a thousand times better.
She finally reached her destination. A bunch of voices caught her attention.
“Mister Damian is too sweet” Was one of the female voices.
“At least I’m getting paid twice for working on Christmas” another voice.
“I hope Anya doesn’t get hurt” A third one.
“I should have gotten a bigger breakfast this morning” A fourth one.
How much people did Damian had there?
But suddenly, a voice shut out: “Enemy on sight, enemy on sight!”
An alarm started to ring, and Anya’s heart felt like to explode from the adrenaline.
“Don’t let her go to the second floor!”
So that is where she was supposed to go.
Anya entered through an open window and suddenly a lot of gas started to fill the warehouse. Anya saw that the people inside was armed with the same guns she had in the backpack. She took one from the belt and started to shoot. The people she was shooting started to fall and ‘die’. She ran across the people in the middle of the smoke to the stairs when a big guy was waiting for her like a wall.
Anya was a 26-year-old police officer. She was mildly offended that there was only one guy. She easily passed through him and reached the second floor.
Fifteen-armed (with toys) people were waiting for her. Damian was tied in a chair with a smirk in his beautiful face, thinking for her mind only: “Are you going to rescue me or what?”
But the biggest surprise of all was the villain.
“Uncle Yuri?”
“Oh! You have finally find my liar, Agent Peanut!” he ignored her question, getting full in character “But you are late, your husband refused to give us information, so he is useless now. I have decided that he is going to die in 5 minutes!” A bomb with a clock was chained to Damian’s chest.
“I won’t let you!” She was full on combat mode now. Following the game. “Leave my husband alone! This is between you and me!”
“Soldiers, kill her!”
But Anya was too good. She didn’t stop laughing while fighting with the people they hired for this. When she was finally done with the ‘guards’ she faced her uncle: “Now it is your turn!”
“You think you can take me down in 4 minutes and a half? Keep dreaming! You’ll face your end at the hands of – he sighed and though “I can believe I’m going to say this but agh, whatever” - Bad-Man!” She was 100% sure they stopped the clock for dramatic purposes. Also Uncle Yuri performance, top notch!
Anya run to her uncle and kick him with all her might. He easily blocked it with his hand.
A bunch of kicks and fist fighting followed. Yuri was enjoying it as much as Anya. They trained together many years ago, but after Anya grew up and become a member of the police department, they stopped to have the sessions. There was no particular reason for it, they just didn’t have the time anymore.
So being here fighting each other was like a jump back in time. And Yuri’s eyes get a little bit to shiny and his smile was a bit too big while defending up from her attacks.
Finally, Yuri fell with a dramatic scream when Anya shot him in the chest with the toy gun. (it probably hurt, though. She was mere inches away from him).
There is no way in hell that the fight took less than 10 minutes. But when she run towards Damian the clock has a minute left before the explosion.
She took the tape out of his mouth and dramatically kissed him. “Are you alright?”
“Hurry Anya! The bomb is going to explode any second now!”
“What is the key?”
There was a circular padlock holding the timer. Anya looked around her and run to Yuri’s pockets. Empty.
“Have you seen something that circular today?” Damian asked her.
She tried to read his mind, but all she found was “I won’t tell you. I won’t tell you. I won’t tell you” repeated as a mantra.
35 seconds.
Think Anya, think.
And then it hit her. She opened the backpack and took the peanut can. Could it be?
She pushed the can against the padlock and the timer stopped.
She beamed at Damian with a smile in her face “Take that!”
He was, however, staring at her with a loving gaze “You did it wonderfully”.
She then released him from the chains and hugged him. “I love you so much”
He replied to her with a thought in his head: “No more than how much I love you, Anya. Merry Christmas”
“You, big dork” was all she could say in a voice faltering with love.
“That hurts, Peanut” Yuri’s voice was behind her “No hugs for the boxing bag you just defeat and keep ignoring?”
She turned around and hugged her uncle without saying a word. She then removed a couple traitor tears that escape her eyes. “So, what’s next?”
“The helicopter is waiting for us behind the building.”
“Helicopter?”
“I just wanted you to live the full experience” was her husband reply.
She intertwined his fingers on hers “Thank you for today”
But there was a final surprise.
Damian’s sweet smile was not showing all the embarrassingly intense passionate thoughts he suddenly sent her way about the plans for the rest of the day and night. Anya’s face grew red in an instant. One of the downsides of the new discovered power was that Damian enjoyed making her blush on public. His smile shift to a cocky one once he saw his wife reaction.
“Did you really though my plans ended up after lunch? It is as if you don’t know me at all”
“Well… I do have the rest of my life to do that”
------------------
Hope you like it! Happy holidays!
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kaijusplotch · 3 years
Text
Hunter is Not Ready for Omega to go Through Puberty
Debating on if i should publish this to AO3 or not? Either way, have Hunter having small crisises of the heart when Omega reaches puberty. Everyone discovering something about Crosshair. And generally the Bad Batch having DAD feels.
Hunter was worried. Omega had been miserable with stomach pain since early that morning; practically living in the fresher. He looked through every medical pack they had but Tech had said they were portioned out for adult clones and their strength could hurt more than help.
So, Hunter got hot packs ready and dimmed the lights of the bunk room. It hurt him just as much to know that he couldn’t help her more than just to be there for her until they could get some more appropriate medicine.
“Hunter…?”
He looked up from where he was trying to look up how to treat stomach pain and his heart dropped. “Omega? what’s wrong?”
“I’m bleeding...down there.” Omega’s face was beet red and there were tears in her eyes as she stood awkwardly near the door of the fresher.
Hunter’s mind went to static. What did that mean? Was she hurt? Had she gotten hurt and he didn’t notice? His heart started to race and he got up and walked over to her.
Omega had gotten taller, her clothes from Kamino no longer fitting properly. Tech’s spare blacks were at least somewhat useful but still too big in some places even being the shortest of the Batch. She was growing fast, like all clones, but differently too. Her hips were wider for sure, but it could just be because of the mutations.
“Are you hurt? I...I don’t understand,” Hunter said, hands on her shoulders as he tried to hide his fear from his voice and face.
“Um…” She whimpered and looked away biting her lip. “I ah...I’m not hurt, my stomach hurts but I’m bleeding. Not a lot, but I don’t know either.”
“What’s going on?” Crosshair asked, walking in with Tech behind.
Omega blushed and looked away, fidgeting with the oversized top of her blacks. “m’bleeding….”
“She says she isn’t hurt, but the stomach pains are still there.” Hunter explained turning to Tech.
“She is nearing seven, she’d be going through one of her first large growth spurts. Perhaps a hormonal issue?” Tech asked, grabbing his datapad.
Hunter nodded, looking up as Crosshair patted his shoulder.
“I’ll take care of this,” Crosshair said with a slight twitch to the corner of his mouth; his version of a smile. “C’mon kid, let’s go to the fresher.”
“Ah! Found something, Sargeant,” Tech interrupted, dragging Hunter’s attention back.
“What is it? What can we do?”
“She’s going through puberty, as expected. Except...it’s different for females…” Tech looked a little pale as he read his datapad. “They have...ah...oh. Menstrual cycles begin during this time which can cause them to shed the lining of their internal reproductive organs.”
Hunter’s eyes went wide. “What? Is it dangerous?!” Hunter grabbed at the pad, although Tech snatched it back.
“No, at least it shouldn’t be. It happens monthly, along with mood changes, stomach cramps and some skin issues. Well at least that’s the same as it was for us,” Tech muttered. “She will need supplies but…I’m not sure how best to handle this, Hunter.”
Hunter rubbed his face and swallowed. “I’ll try to contact Rex. Ashoka was a teenager with him during the war, he’s got to have some kind of advice.” The door to the fresher opened and Hunter turned around, watching as Crosshair had Omega tucked up into his side. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’m going to take her into town.” Crosshair tossed Omega a poncho and put on a jacket and hat for himself.
“Are you sure? We haven’t completely figured out what-”
“I’ll handle it, Tech,” Crosshair hissed with a significant look. “We’ll be back in a bit.”
Hunter furrowed his brows, but Omega was leaning into Crosshair with a smile. It would be good to let Crosshair have some time with Omega and vice-versa. “Be careful. Have your comms open.” he advised.
“Yes DAD,” Omega sighed, rolling her eyes with a smile as Crosshair chuckled softly.
The door closed behind them and Hunter groaned. “I think my heart stopped.” He leaned against the wall.
“Your fine. Just like every other time she’s called you a variation of ‘father’.” Tech pushed his goggles back up on his nose. “I’ll see about trying to find a secure line to Rex.”
“See if we have any contacts to Cut too. Maybe Suu can help explain things?” Hunter suggested looking at Tech, lost and worried. His mind was still racing on how to help look after his ad. No he was not ever admitting that to any of his brothers that he subconsciously called Omega his ad.
“I’ll get right on it. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he reassured as he walked back toward the cockpit.
Hunter spent the entire time waiting for Crosshair and Omega to return trying to get in contact with Rex or Cody. He chewed his lip as he was met again with nothing on the comms.
Echo walked in and sighed. “I’ve been trying to hunt down Cut and Suu but I can’t get any trace on the shuttle they took. Sorry, Hunter.”
“No, no it’s not your fault.” Hunter frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I should have asked them more before we left.” He scrubbed uselessly at his face and snarled. “I’m supposed to look out for her and I don’t know how to help her!”
“Hey, none of that.” Echo’s voice was firm and Hunter was a little surprised. His newest brother was rather quiet but apparently when he had something to say he would say it. “You’re doing everything you can. We all are. Omega will be okay, plenty of girls go through the same thing. We’ll adapt.”
Hunter smiled a bit. “Just like Saw said. It’s what we do best. Still want to help her feel better.” He glanced at Echo who smiled in return.
“You sound a lot like an ori’vod.” He gave a small shrug, flexing his prosthetic wrist slightly. “Just need to find out what she needs. For now, we can be there for her. She’s family.”
“Yeah, apparently Crosshair had an idea so hopefully he is able to help.” Hunter stood from his chair and stretched slowly. “How’s the upgrades Tech made?”
“Great, actually. Nice to have two hands again. Means I can give Tech a run for his money at Sabacc night.”
“Good luck with that,” Hunter laughed.
“Hey, if I can win against Cross with one hand, I think I stand a chance with two.” Echo grinned. “Maybe we’ll teach Omega next time,” he said just as the ship door opened.
“Teach me what?”
Hunter smiled in relief as he saw Omega walk in, looking a little better and holding a bag on her shoulder. “How to play Sabacc. I don’t think Tech would go easy on you, so maybe I’ll let you watch my hand next time we play. How’re you feeling?”
“Better. Cross got me some stuff.” Omega smiled, not looking as pale as before.
“I didn’t forget you guys either,” Crosshair added as he tossed a bag of items at Echo. “C’mon, kid. Let’s put this away in the fresher for ya.”
Hunter watched as Crosshair led Omega back into the bunks and relaxed. “What’d he get?” He turned to Echo.
“Food, mostly,” Echo laughed. “And other supplies. Oh, caff, keep this away from Tech. New whet stone, always useful since Wrecker loses his.”
“I do not!” Wrecker said, coming up from below deck. “Omega back? Is she feeling better?”
“Seems to be, Cross took care of it, somehow.” Hunter shrugged.
“She’s going to lay down for a bit,” Crosshair added, closing the door to the bunks behind him. “The cramps are better but she’s worn out. Try to be quiet if you need to go in.”
“How did you know how to help her, Crosshair? Tech is going in circles about what kind of information is anecdotal and what is actually medically necessary.” Echo sighed in exasperation. “It’s giving me a headache second hand.”
“I went through the same thing when I was her age.”
Hunter stared at Crosshair as the information slowly processed in his brain. “What?!”
“Quiet! don’t wake her up,” Crosshair hissed back before deflating. “If we’re going to have this discussion, let’s do it away from where the poor kid is sleeping.” He rolled his eyes and skulked off toward the small kitchen and eating area.
Hunter walked in and sat down across from Crosshair, watching as he kicked his feet up on the table chewing on a toothpick. “So what did you mean you went through the same thing? I don’t remember anything like that.”
Crosshair sighed and waited for everyone to sit before replying. “You don’t remember it because it was in the middle of the night in our eighth year.”
“That could be...what happened though? I mean...you-”
“Look like any other male clone,” Crosshair interrupted Tech. “I know. But I’m not. I had bad cramps and woke up in the middle of the night. Bled all over my bunk and was scared shitless. I ran off to the freshers with everything and tried to wash it.” Crosshair frowned. “Skirata must have heard me and found me.”
“What happened?” Hunter tensed, ready to get a plan to hunt down the trainer from Kamino.
“He helped me.” Crosshair shrugged. “Helped me get cleaned up, took the bedding to get washed and got some supplies from another trainer for me.”
“I remember that night!” Wrecker said. “I woke up and was wondering where you were,” he added with a frown. “I was worried.”
Crosshair laughed softly. “I was fine. Ended up with Skirata helping me out with medical and the Long-necks removed the ‘unneeded’ mutation.” Crosshair gave a sarcastic air quote.
“So...you’re female?” Echo asked before blushing. “I don’t mean to insult you or anything,” he added quickly.
“Genetically yes, I think the medics said that I've got an extra X. so XXY? I don’t know. Doesn’t mean anything to me now.” Crosshair pulled his feet down. “Doesn’t affect my work so I don’t care.”
“What can we do to help her then?” Hunter asked, leaning against the table as he took everything in. Crosshair’s genetic identity didn’t mean anything would change. He was still Crosshair’s ori’vod nothing would change that.
“First thing’s first, don’t make it a big deal; for EITHER of us.” Crosshair stared down Wrecker and Tech the most. “Second, she’s going to have cramps and mood swings so don’t take it personal. Third, the choco in the ship is GOING to disappear, don’t fight her on it.”
“Doesn’t sound too different from a standard cadet’s first growth spurt,” Tech commented as he made notes. “We can start to get more supplies for her, new clothes so she feels comfortable.”
“Yeah, she doesn’t look too comfortable in yer blacks,” Wrecker snickered. “Maybe we should think about getting her armor too! She’s already been doing great with her electro-bow.”
Hunter sighed and leaned back, biting back a groan and the ache in his chest of Omega growing up too quickly. “She...she isn’t ready for armor.”
“She’s the right age to start, Hunter. We all started with training armor at seven,” Echo advised, leaning up against the door frame. “We could do the mandalorian thing, have her started with a pauldron, and chest piece.”
“I really don’t want to think about that. She’s too young to be putting on armor and...and fighting.” Hunter stared at the ceiling, brows furrowed as he tried to control himself. “I don’t want her fighting. She’s just a kid and...and she deserves something other than the same shit we grew up with.”
“Careful, Hunter,” Crosshair flicked his toothpick at him. “Your buir is showing.”
“Shut up!” Hunter snapped and glared, hackles raised; although he really didn’t know why. Maybe because he was afraid Crosshair would accuse him of going soft again. Although that wasn’t exactly Crosshair before.
“Honestly, We’re all showing our buir tendencies.” Echo said with a small smile. “I understand why you don’t want to have her go through the same things we did, Hunter; but she won’t. We’ll train her. We know what not to do from our own experiences. She’ll be fine.”
Hunter frowned and leaned forward again. “I’ll think about it. For now, let’s just try to make her comfortable. Growth spurts are never fun.”
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