#hint: he has pit rage

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

DC x DP Prompt

To the delight of Gotham's citizens, and the dismay of her criminal underbelly, the GCPD has a new specialized unit that ACTUALLY apprehends criminals and brings them to justice!

It's a relatively small squad of mostly young adults, who looked fresh out of their teens. But age didn't matter once they got the work done. And they did, as they've already got criminals like Penguin, Riddler, and Bane behind bars for what looks to be 'for good'.

No one besides Commissioner Gordan knows anything about the squad as they operate as a mostly separate entity from GCPD. It was rare to see any of them, and any photos taken were unusually blurry. They are also extremely secretive; if you exclude their social media which are usually just shit posts, memes, and thirst edits of the Wayne family.

They were a total mystery. Almost as mysterious as Batman.

But those who have seen/worked with the squad before all had the same thing to say about them. They were cool. They had an unusually effective method. And their leader is a menace. With his sharp teeth and pointed smile. And bright blue eyes that spoke to your soul. It was a pleasure to see/ work with him, it really was. But they weren't planning on doing so again for a long time.

That being said, Gotham had been quiet for a while. A bit too quiet if you ask anyone, especially the Bats. Strangely, it didn't feel like the usual calm before the shit storm. The instinctual pit in their guts that usually formed just wasn't there. This was different. This wasn't the calm before the storm. This was the ocean receding. But no one seemed to realize it yet.

Not until the tsunami came crashing down on them.

The GCPD special unit accounts that had been inactive for the last three months suddenly pinged to life. Everyone who followed them clicked the notification almost immediately. With this unnerving calm surrounding them, who the hell didn't want to see what batshit crazy statement they would make after three months of radio silence.

What they didn't expect, was to see a crystal-clear picture of justice finally being served.

The picture was a selfie, taken in an abandoned warehouse. In the middle of the dirty floor was the Joker. He was tied up and his head hung low. You could see how beaten he was, his clothes torn and bloody. His face paint was also coming off, revealing pale blotchy skin. Reminding everyone that, he was still human, just like the rest of them.

Behind him, all lined up with smiles on their faces, was Team Phantom. They were a bit bloody and bruised as well but overall in much better condition. They weren't wearing the normal GCPD navy blue uniform, but black and white ones. All stylized to fit the wearers taste. They all looked so young, but their eyes looked like old tired eyes, finally getting some relief.

From in the corner was their leader. Only part of his face was in the picture. One glowing blue eye, and part of his Cheshire smile. His hand making a peace sign next to the Joker. Even with only part of his being shown, everyone could tell he was relived as well.

And while the picture itself was shocking, the caption was what really got them. The top was what you would usually expect from the team. A big bold 'GOT EM' ' at the top. But at the bottom in small, almost unnoticeable text was:

"He will face his punishment. We will get our retribution. May we finally rest in peace."

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc prompt #dp dc crossover #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp prompt #danny and the gang are fragments of the souls of those the joker + the other criminals killed or got killed because of them #guess who most of danny's soul is made of #hint: he has pit rage #the joker is no longer human that's why they had a hard time cathing him #neither are the bats but neither party knew #i would like to mention that danny is tiny #he missed his growth spurt and is making it everyone's problem #danny is a tiny menace #danny sam val dash and kwan mostly work out in the feld #tucker wes and star are the guys and gal in the chair #Paulina Dan and Jazz are the lawyers who prosecute the crimanals #they always win #duh #ellie is their mascot #shes also a mencae #she sometimes go out on the felid #wearing a tutu #combat boots #and a studded leather jacket #with her hair in pig tails #she also has a spiked bat #she WILL use it

[dolldefaced]

#im well aware im bitching!!! #i dont mind the pit tamping down his compassion at the start cause that was sort of hinted at but no its 9/10 beserker rage even at present #ive seen enhanced anger sometimes but i still dont really like how it's handled bc it does sorta lean into the he'd be fine w/o the pit #idk it's again the whole ignoring any valid reason jason has to be angry. no the anger was actually magic! #he would never thinking killing is okay /s no its all the pit /s #dont you know jason would fall into bruce's arms if it were not for the evil woman and her evil green water /s #i do understand its fantasy which is why im not tagging. but also its so prevalent i wanna whine. #not saying dont write cause im not a gatekeeper. i just wish there was more without this yadayada #saltmode

[hotchfiles]

edge of eighteen.

pairing: remus x reader.

content warnings: mostly teen angst and a bit of fluff. reader insert with no use of names or “y/n”. just teens being teens and remus trying to bolt as usual. happy ending.

word count: a bit over 1k.

you shifted in your bed, suddenly feeling the late night cold hit you, still with your eyes closed, you let your hand wander around searching for the sole responsible to keeping you warm, only to quickly notice he was not there.

you open your eyes and sit on the bed of your childhood room, you were spending time there after graduating while you and remus looked for jobs and a good cheap place to live together. your parents adored him so he would spend most days and nights there as well.

tea? you thought, he would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and go to the kitchen for some to help him go back to sleeping. unfortunately, you quickly realized that was not it as you noticed remus going through the closet, apparently taking the clothes he already had left there as it was more convenient.

his baggage was open, the RJL shining whenever it was hit by the light of his wand, you felt rage you didn’t even know you had inside of you, ready to punch him or worse, but you knew of your own insecurities and fears so you controlled your gut reaction, maybe his mother needed him for something. maybe one of the marauders was in trouble.

maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.

“remus? what’s going on?” you asked in almost a whisper, but enough to stop him on his tracks and make his eyes lock on yours, if only for a second.

he was startled, you were a heavy sleeper, this wasn’t supposed to happen, he tried to swallow the pit of despair developing on his throat, his lips as dry as humanly possible, guilt being written all over him, no need of an answer.

“were you about to fucking leave me?” you say in the most angry tone he has ever heard from you, but still controlling the volume not to wake your family. you knew this self control wouldn’t last another second, so as you got up and switched the lights on, you made sure to enchant the door, leaving your wand on your bed as you walked over to the open luggage.

“please, please don’t make this harder f'me.” his voice trembled and you felt like hugging him and telling him it was okay, that he didn’t need to do this. you were not that type of witch though, and he knew that when he chose to kiss you during the sixth year.

“oh no sir, i feel like m’gonna make this a lot harder, impossible even.” you were firm, but the hint of sarcasm was obvious, you took his baggage from the chair it was placed, too quick for him to stop you and emptied it on your bed. “m’not some girl you can just leave, lupin.”

remus followed you but made sure to keep distance, he even made motion to try and put his stuff back, but stopped when he saw the fury in your eyes, don’t you dare being silently told without being spoken.

“i just—i have to, i let myself enjoy this for far too long.”

his brain practically hurt, thinking hard behind his burrowed eyebrows, he was a planner, he was trying to find the right words that would stop this from becoming to much of a fight. you two never fought, he wanted to keep that memory intact.

“no.”

“what do you mean no—“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence before being surprised once again by you picking a portion of his things with both arms, walking towards your tiny closet and throwing it there.

“i mean fucking no, you are not ruining this for no fucking reason, i’m not letting you, i’m not allowing you to, so no.”

“you can’t just prohibit me from doing what i need to do to protect you, woman!” he exasperated in a sigh, his hands passing through his sandy hair, his cheeks getting red in frustration. remus still with his wand in hand, silently orders his luggage and items you had displaced to organize itself.

“protect me? from what? from you? from moony?” you were forced to laugh, it was harsh, painful, almost cruel. “we both know i can handle either of them.”

you were right, you were an incredible witch, strong-willed, way too stubborn for your own good but it usually meant you got yourself out of any situation imposed on you, not afraid of anything, ready, reckless.

“from a future with me.” his voice was loud, louder than you ever heard him, laced with fear and frustration only an eighteen old boy starting his life could feel.

but remus was not just an eighteen old boy. he was a warewolf, fated to disgrace, bad jobs, bad money, bad life.

he had no bright future to provide, and even if you could handle moony at his worst, remus would not ruin your chances at a successful life.

“what gives you that right, lupin?” the last nome being the only form of reference since the beginning of the argument was just one of your ways to show him how mad you were that this discussion was even happening after almost two years of relationship.

love, remus believed love gave him the right to make that choice for the both of you, the hard choice, the right choice. but he didn't answer, looking up to your ceiling to take a deep breath, he was starting to feel like his eyes were about to water and that was not the time for that.

"you think that little of me? that i'm not able to decide for my own what is good f'me?" again, no words from him in response, both his hands gripping tight on his own waist as he kept breathing, trying to be firm, trying to maintain his choice, his plan. his eyes only came back to yours when you asked if he enjoyed it, confusion clear, not understanding what you meant by that. "seeing me hurt, do you enjoy it?"

it was a cruel move, you would admit it if asked, but you were starting to feel desperate, the mix of that with your short temper and the fact his actions were cruel despite his reasoning gave you all the permission to go as low as you wanted to.

"y'know i don't... don't do that t'me." his face contorted, his eyes wet, his voice merely a whisper, you held out your hand, your heart twitching in pain, ready to break at any moment, and you swore for a second he wouldn't take it, but he did, still not getting closer to you, but now you could feel the trembling and the cold sweat that was consuming him whole.

you both stayed like that for a few seconds, but it seemed like hours, arms stretched, fingers intertwined, but you wouldn't take the first step towards him, you needed him to do it, you needed him to forget the whole thing, to apologize, to hug you and smell your hair like he always did. "if you leave i might have a future, but i won't have a life to live." that was the softest you had sounded since you had woken up, the rage completely overshadowed by fear and sadness and grief for your relationship if he was to go.

and he caved, he could possibly live knowing he left you hating him, angry with all that fiery rage he knew so well you had in you, but not like this, not vulnerable and hurt and about to cry because of him. remus sighed and pulled you into his arms in a hug, just like you wanted, his hand going through your hair as you begin to sob, relaxing surrounded by his warmth.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, shhhh" he repeated like a mantra, trying to stop you from crying but to no avail. "next time i swear i'll make sure not to wake you." you let go of him immediately, searching for his eyes and finding his mischievous smirk looking at you, teasing you to lift up your mood or to get you riled up again so you would stop with all the tears that hurt him so much to watch.

"try something like this again and your dead body will be the only thing on that luggage, remy." you reply to his teasing, but there's not a slight of playfulness in your tone, expect for the nickname you would regularly use to call him. he chuckled and nodded, silently agreeing not to do anything of the sort again, placing soft kisses on both your eyelids as he cleaned your cheeks with his thumbs.

"wait, the door is still imperturbed, right?" he asked referring to the charm you had casted earlier not to wake anyone, you replied with a nod and the smirk came back to his lips with even more malice, pushing you lightly towards the bed and hovering over you, muffling a laugh coming from you with a passionate kiss.

remus might feel like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, still, he's only an eighteen years old boy who would not miss the opportunity to make out with his beautiful, stubborn, strong-willed girlfriend.

#marauders #marauders era #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus x you #remus x reader #remus x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #no i did not proofread this #lari writes sometimes

[starlight-bread-blog]

Katara is More Patient Then We Give Her Credit for

Katara has been getting a lot of flak for supposedly being hot headed and getting angry at very minor things. Even those who love Katara seem to accept this as the truth. But it's not. In reality, Katara is simply a female character who owns her rage. And I feel like there are two main components that debunk this notion.

Warning: Long, long post.

1. In the instances where Katara is angry it's either justified or makes sense in context.

The Waterbending Scroll

Katara stole, wouldn't you know it, a waterbending scroll. She practices before giving it to Aang, and fails hard. Then Aang who she's supposed to be teaching, gets it right and explains how to do it. Katara has an outburst.

Katara: Will you please shut your air-hole! Believe it or not your infunite wisdom gets a little old sometimes. Why don't we just throw the scroll away since you're so naturally gifted!

Why is Katara that mad here? Why did she have an outburst? Because she was carrying the burden of being the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe her whole life. Because her waterbending is the reason Kya died. Because she have been independently studying waterbending her whole life. And now her student is having it all easy and is trying to teach her.

And wouldn't you know it, she realized what she did immediatly. Literally, a second later.

Katara: Oh my gosh Aang. I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me. But you know what, it won't happen again. Here [the scroll] is yours. I don't wanna have anything to do with it anymore.

She even apologized to Momo. Katara had an isecurity rooted in trauma and pressure. When Aang try to teach her she hit a breaking point and lashed out. And not one second later she's already apologizing.

The Waterbending Master

Katara and Aang are going to see Pakku, the waterbending master. But when Pakku sees she's a girl, he says he won't teach her. This is why Katara gets angry. She flew across seas just to get rejected due Pakku is being a sexist freak. I think we can all agree that being denied something because of sexism is a good reason to get angry. And when Katara realized Pakku won't teach Aang if she'll keep insisting, she drops it abd tells Aang to drop it too.

However, that doesn't mean she won't study in secret. She deserved to learn waterbending and she knew it. She took the consequences into consideration and decided to not make a fuss.

But of course, they both get caught. Pakku says he will no longer teach Aang, the Avatar who absolutly needs to study and still refuses to teach Katara because he's still sexist. Only then Katara challenges him to a duel. Only when they have nothing to lose. She challenged a sexist prick to a duel, one who shamelessly denied her oppretunity because of her gender.

The Chase

At the start of the episode Katara gently hints Toph to help unpack a camp for the night. This is when she's not tired yet, and shows patience.

Katara: So Toph, usually when setting up camp, we try to divide up the work.

Toph: Hey, don't worry about me. I'm good to go.

Katara (still calmly): Well, actually, what I'm trying to say is, some of us might fetch water while someone else might set up the fire pit or put up the tent. *smiles* Even Momo does his fair share.

Toph (slightly irritated): Katara, I'm fine. I can carry my own weight. I don't need a fire. I've already collected my own food. And look. *earth bends a tent* My tent's all set up.

Katara: Well, that's great for you but we still need to finish-

Toph (loudly): I don't understand. What's the problem here??

Katara: Never mind.

Katara then goes to apologize. While also attempting to make sure her and Toph are on good terms by having her acknoledge that she wasn't 100 absolutly in the right.

Katara: Hey Toph, I wanted to apologize for earlier. I think we're all just a little tired and getting on each other's nerves.

Toph: Yeah, you do seem pretty tired.

Katara (slightly irrutated): I meant all of us.

Toph: Well, good night.

Katara: Good night.

By all means, Toph is in the wrong for the sheer refusal for communication. At first Katara calmly explained to her what was needed without even spelling it out. Toph was being passive, so she dropped it. And then she apologizes after doing nothing wrong just so they could be on good terms. Toph was the one being passive agressive. And Katara pretty much let it slide.

This is Katara. The patience she showed right here is her natural, normal self. The rest of the episode is under the context of sleep deprivation and how it's making them all hostile to each other. Including the pacifist Aang. Who's outburst leads Toph to leave. After she does, both Aang and Katara express remorse.

(Side note: I heard people take issue with the line "The stars sure are beautiful tonight, too bad you can't see them, Toph". It's been interpreted as Katara making fun of Toph for being blind, but it's just another instance in the recurring joke of the Gaang forgetting Toph is blind, and listed as such in the official A:TLA Youtube channel).

The Runaway

Update: This section, especially, is majorly outdated.

The episode has a silly opening where Aang is trained by Toph and Katara. Toph misses and accidently hits Katara with a big rock. After Toph doesn't apologize, it leads into a fight which is absolutly not to be taken seriously, that ends with Aang pointing out that it was supposed to be training.

It doesn't work as an exapmle for supposed hot-headedness because the reason this whole thing started because Toph hit Katara with a rock and refused to apologize.

But moving on to the real conflict of these episode, Toph scammed someone and Katara makes it clear that they shouldn't do it again, it'll draw attention to them. Aang promises her it won't happen again but.. um.. you know what happened.

Katara, being responsible, told them to quit because they'd potentially get exposed. Toph didn't reach well, telling her to lighten up. Katara rightfully gets angry, because they really might get exposed and Toph is dismissing her like her concerns are nothing. They have a short argument and Toph storms out.

This is why Katara was angry this episode. Her reasoning for being upset is the Gaang potentially exposing themselves for easy money. That's the conflict.

The Painted Lady

In this episode Katara sees a starving Fire Nation village but Sokka won't allow them to stay due to time limits. So she faked a disease for Appa so they could. Sokka confronts her. At first, she gives up and packs to leave. But since she destroyed the factory that's been polluting the villages water and taking their medicine, the people in charge assumed it was the civilians, and were coming to attack. Sokka and Katara get into a small but intense argument. Important to note, that she doesn't react intensively until Sokka does.

Katara: Well, what was I supposed to do?

Sokka: Leave! Do nothing.

Katara: No! I will never, ever turn my back on people who need me.

Her anger here doesn't highlight hot-headedness, it highlights compassion. Compassion is one of Katara's core traits. She's angry because she's being angrily demanded to see people suffer and stand by. And she will not tolerate it. She will never, ever turn her back on people who need her.

2. In reality, Katara is defined by her patience and compassion.

What I did here was listing off times where Katara did get angry. But Katara is generally a caring, kind person. Rather if it's cheering up Sokka, going shopping with him after he admitted to feeling useless; if it's pulling Aang out of the Avatar state, putting herself at risk when he's out of control; if it's helping deliver a baby of a stranger; or if it's freeing prisoners of the Fire Nation. She demonstrates impressive patience throughout the show.

The Deserter

In this episode Aang was asked to just control fire. Aang gets irrutated himself at this, but Katara assured him that it's probably for a good reaso. But when his master left, he firebent. He was being extremely careless with his new found Fire Bending and burned Katara's hands.

Did she...

A. splashed some water at him.

B. Yelled at him.

C. Ran away crying.

Yeah, she didn't express anger at all. Sokka was who's angry at Aang.

The Desert

The sand benders stole Appa and the Gaang is suck in a desert. Katara demonstrates her patience a lot this episode.

Toph and Aang are arguing about Toph not stopping them.

Aang: You just didn't care! You never liked Appa! You wanted him gone.

Katara: Aang, stop it. You know Toph did all she could. She saved our lives.

Sokka: Who's gonna save our lives now? We'll never make itout of here.

Aang: That's all any of you guys care about, yourselves. You don't care whether Appa is okay or not.

Katara: We're all concerned, but we can't afford to be fighting now.

Aang accused the Gaang of something horrible. Katara told him to stop, but still understood his anger and calmly explained to him that it's important not to fight in a life threatening situation.

Aang then storms out to look for Appa. Katara's response?

Katara: We'd better start walking. We're the only people who know about the solar eclipse. We have to get that information to Ba Sing Se.

She didn't get angry, she was rational and thought about the greater good.

After Aang comes back, Katara suggest they should try sleeping, gives the Gaang all of her bending water without drinking herself. And then finds a way to get to Ba Sing Se using the locations of star systems.

The Gaang spots a cloud and mistakes it for Appa. But Katara realizes the potential in a cloud. She tells Aang to fly and bend the water from the cloud so they could drink.

Katara (disappoibted): Wow, there's hardly any in here.

Aang (intensively): I'm sorry, okay? It's a desert cloud, I did all I could. What's anyone else doing? *Points at Katara* What are you doing?

After dealing with everyone's tireness, Sokka's high nonsense and Aang's attitude, carrying everyone, thinking of possible solutions to ensure they'd all survive, how did she react to Aang accusing her of not doing enough?

Katara: Trying to keep everyone together. Let's just get moving. We need to head this direction.

And after everything she did for everyone, she pulls Aang out of the Avatar state when he's raging, out of control.

Katara is not so hot headed.

She's sweet, nurturing and caring. She demonstrated incredible patience and perhaps even saved the Gang's life in The Desert with her resilience. Katara's compassion is her defining trait.

But that doesn't mean she's not a human being – she's allowed to be flawed, and in the moments where she does, she's very remorseful. And in the moments where she doesn't, people will still hold her accoutable for simply feeling a justified emotion.

Does it make you oh-so-hot headed to stand up to a sexist denying her opportunity? To make sure your friends don't destroy your chances to win a war? To not tolerate being told to see people in need and do nothing in a middle if an argument she didn't start? Of course it doesn't.

And other characters are allowed to express anger, to be flawed, in ways that are way worse than Katara without being labelled annoying hot headed by the fandom.

Katara is widly known to be irrational, letting her anger get the better of her, but it's simply not true.

#katara of the southern water tribe #avatar katara #atla katara #katara defense #in defense of katara #meta #atla meta #katara meta #atla memes #atla #anti atla fandom #avatar the last airbender katara #avatar the last airbender #katara defense squad #katara deserved better #katara deserves better #the southern water tribe #southern water tribe #avatar the kast airbender meta #toph beifong #toph #long post #the painted lady #the chase #the runaway #the waterbending master #pakku #master pakku #katara and toph #katara my beloved

[genshinluvr]

Insecurities and Jealousy

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader (Zhongli x Isekai'd!Reader)

Summary: Your insecurity and jealousy get the best of you, causing you to overthink. You assumed Zhongli would leave you for someone else because she (Lumine) looks a tiny bit like Guizhong (according to Venti). The tension between you and Zhongli proceeds to grow, thus you demand that Zhongli prove that he cares about you when the twenty-four men leave your bedroom to give you and Zhongli some privacy to speak.

Note: This is part two (and a request) of "Overprotective with a Hint of Jealousy," it will be linked down below. I think you can read this without having to read the first part tbh. The requester wanted this fic to be Zhongli focused and that is what I did. This post does contain smut, and it's been a while since I've written and posted smut, so I can't promise that it's good 💀 Here are my usual heads up regarding the smut-fics I post: every single one of my smuts, the reader is either a female!reader or an AFAB!reader. I try to keep it as gender-neutral as possible, but all of my smut-fics do lean more towards female!reader/AFAB!reader. Minors, DO NOT INTERACT! As usual, I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut (as usual), Zhongli has two dicks, oral sex (both receiving), double penetration, handjob, deep throating, cervix fucking, biting, slight mentions of blood, spitting, and hair pulling.

Word Count: 10.3k

You can find part one of Insecurities and Jealousy right here: Overprotective with a Hint of Jealousy.

You’re the jealous type, and you hate it. You hate the feeling of your heart clenching in your chest and a sense of inadequacy. It’s an ugly feeling. It makes you feel like a terrible person whenever you get jealous of the people around you or someone that has passed on to the afterlife. You know she was his friend; they were nothing more than close friends. But why do you feel a raging fire pit forming in your gut when you know that there is an area in Liyue with their names combined? In your world, it’s a ship name. 

Zhongli has reassured you that he and Guizhong are nothing more than friends. Close friends. But would close friends form an alliance and name part of Liyue with their names combined? You think the fuck not. Perhaps they were not creative with naming that part of the region? Either way, you hate that it exists and wish you never feel this way. You’re brought out of your thoughts when the glass cup shatters before you. You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, rubbing your throbbing temples with your index and middle finger.

You look at Albedo. “Apologies for breaking another beaker. I was distracted with my thoughts,” you murmur, giving Albedo an apologetic smile. 

Albedo sweeps the shattered glass into the dustpan. “There’s nothing to apologize about, [Y/N]. If you need to take a breather, you can step out for a moment,” Albedo says.

Albedo is telling you to leave. Although, you don’t blame him for wanting you to go if that’s what he’s implying. Maybe you do need a breather, or else you’ll take your jealousy out on another glass beaker in the lab. After all, this is the fifth beaker you have broken within two hours of helping Albedo with his project.

You nod, letting out a long exhale through your nostrils. “You’re right, Albedo. I need to take a breather and collect my thoughts,” you said. 

Albedo squeezes your shoulders and continues to sweep the glass shards into the dustpan, throwing them into the trash bin. You take your lab coat off and hang it on the coat rack near the door. You leave Albedo’s laboratory and press your back against the wall, sighing for the umpteenth time today. You push yourself away from the wall and stomp down the stairs. You’re glad the stairs have a rug because you don’t want to put anyone in a negative mood because of the thoughts that are hounding you. 

Once you have reached the bottom of the stairs, Lumine perks up and waves at you. When did she get here? You give Lumine a smile and wave at her. 

“Lumine! What are you doing here at the abode? Babysitting Aether again?” You ask.

Aether scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “She’s not babysitting me, [Y/N]! And for your information, I invited Lumine over because I didn’t want to be alone when Zhongli drones on about the history of Liyue,” Aether jokes. 

You blink at Aether’s response, finally noticing the former Geo archon sitting across from Lumine and Aether. Zhongli sips on his tea, ignoring Aether’s comment about him droning on about Liyue’s history. You purse your lips and nod. As much as you would like to join them, Zhongli didn’t invite you, so why should you invite yourself?

Lumine rolls her eyes at Aether’s comment, nudging his side with her elbow. “Be nice, Aether!” She hisses. Lumine turns to you and smiles politely as if she wasn’t close to smacking her twin brother in front of you and the former Geo archon not too long ago. “Would you like to join us, [Y/N]? Zhongli was about to talk about Guizhong and the Guizhong ballista,” Lumine says nonchalantly.

Your eye twitches at the mention of her name. Oh, archons, her again? Do you even have the patience and courage to stay and listen to your boyfriend talk about a friend that has passed away thousands of years ago? No, no, you do not. Plus, Zhongli never invited you, so it would be rude for you to impose. He certainly did not invite you for a good reason, and for once, you’re glad he didn’t ask you to join the conversation.

You shake your head. “No, no, it’s fine. I was helping Albedo with his experiment, and now I’m taking a much-needed break,” you said.

“Aw! Come on, snookums! Why not join us?” Childe asks, walking into the room with a teapot in his hands. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Childe, I didn’t know you were part of Zhongli, Aether, and Lumine’s tea party,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“There are more audiences, but they’re currently on a bathroom break. We’ve been sitting here for almost two hours drinking tea and learning about Liyue’s history,” Gorou says, stretching his arms in the air as he walks into the room.

You prop your hands on your hips. “Is that so? And I wasn’t invited?” You ask lightheartedly.

You mask your hurt with a lighthearted tone. You’re conflicted on whether you should feel offended that Zhongli didn’t think once or twice to invite you. Or if you should feel relieved that you didn’t have to sit through almost two hours of Zhongli talking about Liyue and her. Archons, this feeling is so ugly. 

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in listening to the long history of Liyue. Besides, you were helping the chief alchemist with his experiment,” Zhongli says casually. 

Venti plops down in his seat beside Aether. “If we’re talking about the God of Dust, she looks a little similar to Lumine. Only, she has a rat tail like block-head over there, and her hair is gray,” Venti says casually. 

Venti’s comment makes you dread being in the presence of Zhongli and Lumine. If Guizhong looks a little similar to Lumine, could that mean that Zhongli may have felt some kind of attraction toward the blonde girl? What if Lumine was the reincarnation of Guizhong? No, it’s not possible because Lumine isn’t even from Teyvat. The raging fire pit in your stomach that is jealousy has grown after hearing Venti’s comment. 

Noticing your change of demeanor, Thoma nudges Venti and gestures for the anemo archon to keep his mouth shut. Venti’s eyes widen, and he makes an “oops” face. Thoma turns to you and gives you a smile.

“Do you want anything to eat? You have been helping the chief alchemist for a few hours,” Thoma says, getting ready to leave his seat. 

You give Thoma a strained smile and shake your head. “Oh, no, I’m not hungry. I’m about to go to Luhua Pool,” you said, pointing at the entrance of the estate.

You didn’t plan on going to Luhua, but now that you think about it, a change of scenery would be nice. Not only that, but you’re hoping the view of the blue waters would keep your mind off of Zhongli talking about Guizhong and how Lumine looks a little similar to Guizhong. The pit in your stomach grows when you see the light shade of pink on Lumine’s cheeks. To you, you see it as Lumine blushing at Venti’s comparison to the God of Dust. Still, in reality, Lumine was blushing from embarrassment and refraining from strangling the anemo archon for comparing her to the woman you envy. 

Lumine knows about your distaste and jealousy toward the deceased archon. You expressed your frustrations to Lumine a few days ago. The frustration was more directed toward yourself than the God of Dust and former Geo archon. She knew how much you hate feeling jealous over their friendship. Lumine prays that you won’t hate her or grow a dislike for her because she and Guizhong look a tiny bit alike.

“Why are you going to Luhua Pool alone? There is danger outside the abode,” Xiao says, standing behind you with his arms crossed over his torso, frowning at you.

You look at Xiao and smile at him. “I’m going to Luhua Pool to clear my mind, Xiao. I messed up on Albedo’s experiment because I was distracted,” you explain, tucking your hands into your pockets.

You weren’t wrong about that part. You were distracted by the overwhelming jealousy directed toward Zhongli and Guizhong’s friendship. You wanted to have someone that cared about you as much as he cared about her. You wanted to have someone that keeps the memory of you alive when you’re gone, like how he does with Guizhong and the past adeptis that were once by his side. Yes, your boyfriends love and care about you, and you acknowledge that! But does Zhongli care about you as much as the other men do? Does Zhongli care about you as much as he cares about Guizhong? Does he care about you more than he does for her, or is it the other way around?

So many questions ran through your mind, making your throbbing temples worsen. You close your eyes and rub your temples. The sooner you leave the abode, the sooner you can (hopefully) soothe your aching temples. 

Heizou approaches you, placing a light touch on your shoulder. “Do you want someone to accompany you? You don’t look too good,” Heizou murmurs.

You shake your head. “I’ll be fine, Heizou. Like I said before, I need to clear my mind,” you reply.

Before anyone can protest, you make your way to the entrance of the estate. Your throbbing temples are hurting almost as much as your heart. You end up finding yourself sitting at the top of the mountain in Luhua Pool, looking out at the bluest water you have ever seen. It’s nice and quiet. The only things you hear are the wind blowing, treasure hoarders conversing from afar, birds chirping, and the sound of your heart breaking. The last part is a little dramatic, but you can’t help it. 

While the sun is beating down on your hot skin, you debate whether you should sit under a tree to cool off or just remain where you’re sitting. A twig snaps behind you, making you tense up and freeze where you’re sitting. You’re afraid that if you turn around, you will see Zhongli standing behind you. 

You keep your eyes on the waters in front of you. “Zhongli, if you’re here to scold me for leaving the abode so suddenly, I don’t want to hear it,” you sigh, resting your head on your chin.

“Huh. Last time I checked, my name’s not Zhongli,” you hear a nonchalant voice say.

The person sits beside you, leans back, and looks at the view before you two. You didn’t say anything. What are you supposed to say, really? Were you supposed to explain to Diluc why you left the abode to sit at Luhua Pool?

Diluc sighs and places his hand on his lap. “You don’t need to say anything. I’m here to keep you company, even if you want to be alone,” Diluc says.

You close your eyes and rest your head on Diluc’s shoulder. Diluc shifts beneath you and wraps his right arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You were tempted to tease him for being protective, but you don’t blame him for being that way. After all, he (and the other men) did witness you getting injured in many ways a few days ago. It was humiliating. You never want to live through that kind of stuff ever again, but knowing yourself and your luck, that’s not going to happen any time soon. You close your eyes and let yourself snuggle up against the pyro vision holder. 

“You know what I have always wondered?” You whisper, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Diluc hums in response, letting you know to continue.

“Ever since I arrived in Teyvat, I wondered if the people in my world know about my disappearance. I wonder if there are people that miss me or remember my existence,” you said, opening your eyes and gazing out toward Luhua Pool. “I know that he cares about me, but sometimes it feels like he cares about her more than he cares about me,” you murmur.

You are the present, and she is the past, but he’s keeping the memories of her alive. The people of Liyue and the adeptis are keeping the memories of Guizhong alive. Seeing how much people love and care about her, how they still think about her despite her perishing thousands of years ago, made you wish that you had friends like them. You don’t think your friends back in your universe are aware of your disappearance. Heck, you don’t think your parents or siblings care about your lack of presence in their world. 

Footsteps approach where you and Diluc are sitting, breaking the silence between you and the redhead. 

“So this is where you two have run off,” Dainsleif says, sitting beside you, sandwiching you between him and Diluc.

You sigh and lift your head. “How many of you followed me to Luhua Pool?” You ask, looking turning to look and seeing the other men trying to sneak up toward you, Dainsleif and Diluc.

Kaeya crosses his arms over his chest. “Are we not allowed to be worried about our significant other?” Kaeya asks.

“We noticed your change of demeanor when Zhongli’s friend was mentioned, and we wanted to check up on you to see if you’re okay,” said Kazuha. 

You give the men a tight smile and nod. Even though you feel like shit for being jealous of Zhongli’s deceased close friend, you might as well pretend to be okay. Maybe that will flip your emotions, and you’ll be okay! Maybe. You’re not entirely sure if it’ll work since you let your feelings get to you almost all the time.

You stand and brush the dirt off your clothes. “I’m fine, really! As I said in the estate, I needed to clear my mind. I was distracted by my thoughts, and it caused me to break a few beakers in Albedo’s laboratory,” you explain.

“We also want to inform you ahead of time that Zhongli wants to speak to you once you return to the estate,” Ayato interjects.

Oh. So now Zhongli wants to talk to you after not inviting you to join him and the others for tea? You huff and walk off.

“Why should I speak to him? Zhongli didn’t speak to me earlier today, nor did he think once or twice about inviting me to have tea with him. I think he can wait a little longer to speak to me,” you said.

Gorou’s eyes widen, watching you walk closer to the edge of the cliff. Gorou tugs the shirt of the person closest to him, too scared to even speak up. Kaveh rushes over to you and grabs you by the wrist, pulling you toward his chest and walking far from the edge. It’s like you’re intentionally trying to walk off the cliff and end your life. You let Kaveh drag you off, mentally cursing at Zhongli and the dead god. Actually, cross that off. You’re mentally cursing at yourself for being this way. Your jealousy stems from your insecurities and lack of confidence. Your lack of confidence is because of the people in your life that had put you down at every chance they get. 

Al Haitham gives you a slight glare. “Please don’t try to walk off the edge of the cliff. What if none of us are here to protect you?” Al Haitham scolds you.

Kaveh makes a face. “I think that’s what they intended on doing,” Kaveh mutters loud enough for Al Haitham to hear.

“I think you had plenty of time to clear your mind! Let’s head back to the abode! A nap can also help you clear your thoughts and distract the storm brewing in that pretty little head of yours,” Itto says, ruffling your hair. 

You shake your head stubbornly. “I’m not returning to the abode now. I barely had fifteen minutes of alone time to myself. I’m glad that all of you care about me and want to protect me, but….” you trail off, sighing in defeat.

“How about this: we let you sit here and clear your mind while we stand from a distance to give you some space,” Tighnari suggests. 

“I don’t think they want people to stare at them while they’re trying to collect their thoughts,” Cyno mutters to Tighnari. 

Tighnari gives Cyno a subtle glare and nudges the Mahamatra’s stomach with his elbows. Cyno holds back a grunt, clutches his stomach, and shoots a not-so-subtle glare back at the forest watcher. 

You end up taking Tighnari’s suggestion. The men stood ten feet from where you were sitting while you let your feet dangle off the edge of the cliff with your back pressing against the tree stump. You’re not mentally or emotionally prepared to face Zhongli. All you know is that Zhongli will most likely give you a lecture or scold you for acting like a child for getting jealous of his deceased friend. 

Other than not being mentally or emotionally prepared to face Zhongli, you’re not ready to unpack all of the explanations as to what made you insecure and jealous easily. Quite frankly, you don’t blame Zhongli if he does end up scolding you for feeling and acting this way. It’s childish, and you don’t have anything to worry about besides him scolding you soon. Sometimes you question what these men see in you. You’re not a knight, an Adeptus, an archon, a high-profiled figure, or anything for that matter. What made these men drawn to you other than being able to control them back in your world whenever you played Genshin Impact?

You soon find yourself drowning in self-doubt. Not only are you questioning Zhongli’s feelings for you, but you’re also beginning to question the other men’s thoughts and feelings for you. They can have anyone they want, and yet they choose you. Someone who doesn’t hold a vision and isn’t from their universe. You’re brought out of your thoughts when you feel someone zap your ribs. You let out a loud yelp and flinch so hard that you swore something in your head popped, sending waves of sharp pain through your head, causing tears to well up in your eyes. 

“We told you not to zap them,” You hear Baizhu scold Scaramouche as he walks over to you and helps you up from the ground.

Scaramouche shrugs his shoulders. “I tried getting their attention without zapping them, but after a while, I had no choice,” Scaramouche says defensively.

You clutch onto the back of your head and bury your face into Baizhu’s chest while he rubs your head and walks to the teapot that sits idly by. Pierro raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms over his chest. You let out small sniffles and wipe a stray tear that threatens to make its way down your cheek.

Pierro stops you and Baizhu in your tracks by holding his hand out in front of the two of you. “Did something happen?” Pierro asks, slowly looking over at Scaramouche.

You give Pierro a strained smile and shake your head. “Other than Scaramouche zapping me, nothing happened. Although I do believe that I should get my head checked out just in case,” you said softly. 

Dottore sighs beside Pierro and walks ahead of the group. “I’ll be getting the infirmary ready for the check-up. Doctor Baizhu and Tighnari, please make sure that [Y/N]’s condition doesn’t worsen before arriving at the estate.” 

The strange pop in your head was painful, and it felt oddly hot too. It was like a blood vessel had popped inside your head, and the heat that spread throughout that area was the blood oozing everywhere. You can’t describe the feeling specifically, but you have experienced this before, but it doesn’t happen as often. 

“Who died and put him in charge?” Pantalone mutters to Capitano, who shrugs in response.

Back at the estate, you stare at the familiar ceilings. You lost count of how many times you have visited the estate’s infirmary, and it’s pretty concerning. Albedo, Dottore, Baizhu, and Tighnari are quietly conversing with each other, looking over the notes and paperwork regarding your check-up. 

“What’s the diagnosis?” Capitano asks casually.

Your head snaps up, and you look at the masked (helmet?) man with wide eyes. “There’s no diagnosis, Capitano! Or, I hope there’s no diagnosis,” you said nervously. 

Dottore walks to you and gazes at you underneath his mask. “How’s your head feeling? Does it still hurt?” He asks.

You rub the back of your head where the pain was before returning to the abode. Thankfully, the pain isn’t there, but you do feel the phantom pain. You don’t feel the pain, but it feels like it’s still there. As if the pain is lingering.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t hurt, but it’s lingering. I don’t feel it, but I still remember what it felt like,” you trail off. “I can’t explain it. I’m terrible at explanations,” you chuckle bitterly.

“Well, from the descriptions you have given us at the start of the check-up, it’s an ice pick headache,” Baizhu says.

You stare at Baizhu owlishly. “It’s not serious, is it?” You ask.

Tighnari shakes his head. “It’s not a serious condition where we have to monitor you and have you go through treatments. The only time we have to do that is if it’s recurring,” Tighnari explains.

Albedo crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the counter in the infirmary. “How often do you get the ice pick headache?” Albedo inquires.

“I rarely get them. If I remember clearly, the last time I had the ice pick headache was when I was still in my world, but it was maybe two years ago,” you reply. 

Pantalone smiles and ruffles your hair affectionately. “Then you should be fine, and you have nothing to worry about,” Pantalone says.

You smile at him and nod in agreement. Pantalone and Tighnari are right; you have nothing to worry about. You’re glad you don’t get the ice pick headaches often and that it’s a rare occurrence for you. You leave the estate’s infirmary feeling a tiny bit better and less worried about your impending doom. Speaking of impending doom, there’s something you forget about, but you don’t remember what it was.

Here you are, sitting on the swinging bench in the back of the estate with a tub of ice cream on your lap and a giant spoon in your right hand. The estate is lively as ever, with the men running outside and yelling profanities at each other. Then there’s you, sitting from a distance in the shade, eating ice cream. You wanted to participate and join in on the fun, but the heavy feeling in your chest is weighing you down and is making it hard for you to join them.

You cross your legs and hug the tub of ice cream to your chest, scooping the ice cream into your mouth and letting it melt in your mouth. This heavy feeling in your chest gives you the sudden urge to want to cry. Perhaps it's because you can’t join the others and have fun with them, or it’s the heavy feeling of jealousy that continues to cling to you like a wet t-shirt. 

You sigh and stab the spoon into the strawberry ice cream. “Man, I feel like shit,” you said to yourself.

“And could it be because you’ve been avoiding Zhongli all day?” Aether asks, approaching you with Heizou and Venti by his side. Then there’s Thoma trailing behind the three of them as well, waving at you with a small smile. 

You roll your eyes and pull the spoon out of the ice cream. “No, it’s not because of that, Aether. You know why,” you said, eyes lingering over to where Zhongli, Baizhu, and Lumine were sitting while chatting and watching the others chase each other. “I need to come to an agreement with myself that I’ll always be second best. Or an afterthought,” you grumble.

“I don’t know if you know this, but Lumine has been giving Zhongli an earful after you left the estate to clear your mind at Luhua Pool,” Venti says casually. He plops down beside you and takes the tub of ice cream from your lap.

Heizou nods. “She’s been scolding him quite often. I think she’s scolding him right now because that’s what she was doing before we went over to where you’re sitting,” Heizou says.

You rub your stomach and furrow your eyebrows. You’re starting to get a stomachache, and you’re pretty sure that it’s the ice cream’s fault. You’re not lactose intolerant. You’re weak, but not that weak when it comes to dairy. 

Before Venti can eat the ice cream scoop, you snatch the tub from Venti’s hand and begin searching for the expiration date. The stomachache worsens, making you almost drop the tub. Your eyes land on the expiration date, and you smack yourself on the forehead.

“This thing has expired for three months now,” you deadpan. 

Thoma gasps a little bit too loudly. “Oh, crap! So, that’s what I forgot to throw out!” Thoma smacks his forehead.

Thoma takes the ice cream tub from your hand and the spoon discarded on the grass. You shake your head, get up from the swinging bench and jog back into the estate. You’re not going to visit the infirmary yet. That will be the last resort if the stomachache worsens and you have non-stop diarrhea. 

To be frank, you would rather blow up the toilet and have a stomachache than have to vomit. Not only do you hate throwing up, but throwing up is one of your worst fears, and you do not want to empty out your stomach all because you ate expired ice cream. Dammit! Why didn’t you check to see if the ice cream was expired before eating half of the tub?! You hope Thoma doesn’t blame himself for not throwing out the ice cream. It’s your fault for not checking the expiration date, not Thoma’s fault. 

You quickly go to your bathroom, slam the door shut, lock the door, and mentally and physically prepare to obliterate the toilet because, oh boy, you can feel it coming. Needless to say, it was horrendous. After using the bathroom, you have decided to check the expiration date for everything before ingesting it. 

You’re lucky that you only ate ice cream that expired three months ago and not many other expired foods. If it weren’t just ice cream, you would’ve been puking up your guts and literally shitting your pants simultaneously. It doesn’t sound pleasant, but that is the reality of ingesting expired food. That and you could potentially give yourself food poisoning or develop the symptoms of food poisoning. 

You leave the bathroom, walking funny. You collapse on your bed and clutch your stomach, groaning silently. You have never shitted your guts out like that before, and you don’t want to experience it ever again. On the bright side, your stomach doesn’t hurt anymore, and you’re pretty sure you have pooped out every last bit of expired ice cream you have eaten.

A knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. You lift your head and stare at the door, watching the door crack open and Gorou peeking his head into your room. Gorou gives you a nervous smile and enters your room when you gesture for him to enter. 

Itto peeks his head into your room after Gorou enters your bedroom, giving you a small smile. You wave at Itto weakly and motion for Itto to enter. You don’t want him to be standing at the door awkwardly while Gorou is conversing with you.

“I heard from Thoma that you ate expired ice cream. How are you feeling?” Gorou asks, standing at the foot of your bed.

You lay your head on your pillow and close your eyes. “At first, I felt okay. But then it hit me, and I was on the toilet for who knows how long. But right now, I’m feeling okay! My stomach isn’t hurting anymore, and I’m pretty sure I shit out my guts,” you mutter.

“That’s good to hear,” Itto leans on your desk, “everyone is downstairs checking the expiration date of every food in the kitchen and pantry right now,” Itto says.

You hear another knock coming from the door. You, Itto, and Gorou look at the door and see Childe pushing the door open after peeking his head into your room. You grab the nearest pillow and rest your head on it, watching Childe and Zhongli walk into your room. You’re kind of shocked to see Zhongli walk through the door holding a cup of tea in his hands, accompanying Childe. You sit and pat the empty spot on your bed beside you, gesturing for Childe (and maybe Zhongli if he wants to sit, but you’re not sure) to sit on the bed.

“Zhongli brewed you some tea for your stomach. You didn’t throw up or anything, did you?” Childe asks, sitting beside you.

You shake your head. “The only thing I did was shit my guts out, but that did help me with the awful stomachache I was feeling,” you answer, rubbing your stomach.

Zhongli hands the teacup over to you. “I brewed you some tea to drink that’ll help you with your stomachaches. Make sure to drink it all, alright?” Zhongli murmurs.

You reach for the teacup and quietly thank the former Geo archon. You take a sip of the tea and scrunch your face when the scorching hot tea touches your tongue. The tea didn’t taste too bad. From what you can tell, it tastes like green tea. You’ve had green tea many times back in your world, but it’s been a while since you’ve drunk it. The heat from the tea warms your stomach up, sending shivers down your spine. You made sure to drink the entire tea before handing back the empty teacup to Zhongli. 

“Knock, knock!” Kaveh sing-song, earning an eye roll from Al Haitham.

“Please don’t sing,” Al Haitham deadpans, “I would rather hear the Rishboland Tigers mate than hear you sing.”

Al Haitham’s comment earns an offended gasp from the blond man. Before Kaveh can respond to Al Haitham’s statement (and insult), Cyno shoves past Al Haitham and Kaveh. Cyno turns to look at the two men behind him, who narrowed their eyes at him. Cyno rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Now is not the time to bicker over something petty,” Cyno states before looking at you, “Tighnari wanted me to tell you to come down to the infirmary to get a check-up.”

You look at Cyno incredulously. You did not plan on revisiting the infirmary today over your accidental ingestion of expired ice cream. You planned on going to the infirmary if the stomachache continued and if you continued to shit your guts out, and if you ended up puking in the toilet for a while.

You exclaim, “Again?! But I left the infirmary a few hours ago!” 

Childe and Zhongli raise their eyebrows at you, simultaneously propping their hands on their hips. Oh no. Looks like you forgot to inform them about your brief visit to the estate’s infirmary after returning to the abode.

You quickly add, “The visit to the infirmary was brief! I’m okay; I didn’t get injured! Tighnari told me that it was an ice-pick headache. Since I rarely get ice pick headaches, I don’t need to go through treatments or be monitored.” 

“You didn’t injure yourself, did you?” You hear Xiao ask.

You look at the door and see Xiao and Ayato standing at the entrance to your room, looking at you worriedly. You pursed your lips and shook your head. Ayato was there, so he could explain what happened to Xiao and the others (who weren’t at Luhua Pool). You’re not in the mood to re-explain the situation. 

“They’re fine. They need to get some rest, though,” you hear Diluc murmur from the hallways.

You furrow your eyebrows and flop back down on your bed. Why is the solution to many problems would be getting some rest? What if you’re feeling restless? Do you need to rest harder or something? 

You roll to your side and hug the closest thing to you. “What if I don’t want to get some rest? I assumed that sitting on the swinging bench in the backyard of the estate while eating ice cream counts as me getting rest,” you said.

“If you don’t want to get some rest, then what do you want to do?” Ayato asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You hug the pillow to your chest tightly. “Well, I never got some alone time at Luhua Pool. Listen, I love all of you, I really do, but I never really got to clear my mind,” you murmur.

“Sometimes, it’s better to talk about it than sit in silence and clear your thoughts. I have an inkling feeling that whatever was occupying your thoughts earlier today is still in your mind,” Kaeya says, peeking from behind Xiao and Ayato.

You puffed your cheeks and exhaled through your nose. Kaeya is correct. Even if you claim that you were going to Luhua Pool to clear your mind, the thought of Zhongli and Guizhong continues to plague your thoughts. It’s driving you insane, and the pit in your stomach continues to grow with each passing minute. Venti throwing in the comment of how Lumine looks a tiny bit like Guizhong did something to you. You’re not upset with Lumine; you’re upset with yourself. You’re upset that you have this painful assumption that Zhongli is going to leave you for someone that reminded him of his deceased friend. It hurts, and you’re trying your best not to let your insecurities and jealousy create a rift between you and Lumine. 

After you had left for Luhua Pool, Lumine scolded Zhongli and Venti. She was close to hitting them with a pan, but Aether held her back. Instead, she gave them an earful. Specifically, Zhongli himself because she knows how much it has affected you and how you’re worried that he doesn’t care about you as much as he cares about someone that is long gone. 

You sit on your bed and begin running your fingers through your fuzzy blanket. “Can I write it down instead? I don’t think I’ll be able to talk about it without feeling frustrated with myself and bursting into tears,” you whisper, eyes trained on the blankets in front of you.

“As long as you tell us what’s wrong. We’re not mind readers, sweetheart,” Dainsleif says.

You didn’t question the number of people popping in and out of your bedroom. Instead, you kept quiet and let Dainsleif pull you into his arms, allowing you to bury your face into the crook of his neck. 

You whisper, “I hate feeling helpless. I’m trying my best not to let my feelings and insecurities get to me, but I can’t help it. It’s driving me insane, and I feel powerless against my thoughts.” You play with Dainsleif’s shirt, refusing to make eye contact with the men in the room. 

“It’s about the God of Dust and the God of Contracts relationship, isn’t it?” Scaramouche asks, breaking the silence in your room.

Dainsleif feels you tense in his arms, yet you don’t respond to Scaramouche’s question. While Scaramouche is correct, you wish he didn’t say that out loud in front of everyone. You would rather deal with this topic of conversation with Zhongli alone. This is between you and Zhongli, and everyone knows that.

“We’ll give you two some space,” Kazuha says slowly.

Kazuha and the other men start to trickle out of your bedroom one by one. Dainsleif unwraps his arms around you and presses a kiss on your cheek before getting up to leave your room. You nearly reach out to Dainsleif to prevent him from going, but seeing the look on Zhongli’s face makes you stop. 

Pierro nods to you before closing the door once everyone (except for Zhongli) has left your bedroom. You continue to stare at the door like a deer caught in headlights, too nervous to look at Zhongli. You can feel Zhongli’s gaze burning holes into your skull. You’re not sure who’s going to be the first one to break the silence between the two of you, but you know for sure that you won’t be the one to do that.

Zhongli walks over to where you’re sitting. The closer he got, the louder your heart was beating against your ears. You and Zhongli talked about this a few days ago. Yet, you can’t get it through your thick skull because of your jealousy and insecurity over his friendship with Guizhong. How many times does Zhongli have to reassure you so that you would not hold a grudge against someone deceased? At this point, you’re in need of therapy for all of the past traumas that led you to where you’re at right now. 

Zhongli sits beside you, keeping a small distance between the two of you. Zhongli doesn’t want to upset you any further by sitting close to you to the point where his thighs are brushing against yours. Your heart is thumping against your chest, and you feel nervous. If Zhongli is going to tell you that you have nothing to worry about, you don’t know what else to say. You love Zhongli as much as you love your twenty-four other boyfriends. You know they all love you, but sometimes you question if Zhongli cares about you at all. 

Zhongli breaks the silence between the two of you. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I don’t want you to hide your feelings and worries from me,” Zhongli murmurs.

You press your lips into a thin line, unsure of how else to respond to him. You fear if you tell him about your concerns, Zhongli will roll his eyes and brush it off. Just like how every person you come across in your world. Your concerns mean nothing to them, and they never will. 

You shrug your shoulders and laugh sarcastically. “It’s something we talked about a few days ago, Zhongli,” you reply. 

You look at the bandages that are wrapped around your body. The burns you have gotten from the scalding hot water that was poured all over you. Dottore, Tighnari, Albedo, and Baizhu have been gradually healing your burns. They’ll wrap your (healing) burns gauze after applying ointment on the burns. You’re healing, it almost looks like nothing is there, nor did you have a burn in the first place. 

Zhongli shakes his head. “You and I didn’t talk it out. We as a group did, but I want it to just be you and I discussing this,” Zhongli replies, crossing his arms over his chest and turning to you.

You get up from your bed and begin taking your bandages off. The scars are barely there, and thanks to Qiqi, you almost look like your usual self! Perhaps two or three days from now, you should be completely healed of your injuries. You toss the bandages into the trash can and rub at the ointment. 

“What do you want me to say, Zhongli? That my behavior a few days ago at Guizhong’s abandoned abode was childish and unnecessary?” You ask, throwing your hands in the air out of frustration. “Because if you are, you’re correct. It’s childish and unnecessary,” you rub your temples.

You walk to your desk and collapse on the chair, running your fingers through your hair. You don’t want to talk about it, but it was inevitable. You would rather talk to a therapist about this than Zhongli because having to talk about it is embarrassing. 

“I hate getting jealous over your friendship with Guizhong. Yes, I know you two are just friends, nothing more and nothing less, but I can’t help but let my insecurity get the best of me. I tried to ignore it, but I can’t, and it’s very frustrating,” you look at the ground, swallowing the forming lump in your throat.

Fuck. You’re starting to tear up. You let yourself stare off into space, blinking away the tears pooling in your eyes. You try to distract yourself from the negativity that’s plaguing your mind: Zhongli constantly thinking about the woman that was once in his life, Zhongli possibly leaving you for someone that looks like the deceased God of Dust, Zhongli not caring about you as much as he does for the woman that had perished long ago.

A stray tear made its way down your cheek. “I know I shouldn’t worry or question everyone’s feeling for me, but my insecurity and overthinking makes me question everything,” you chuckle bitterly. You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Zhongli says softly.

He gets up from your bed and makes his way toward you. You shake your head at Zhongli’s comment. What’s the point of stopping now when you have already started talking about it?

You gulp and attempt to hold back your tears, but the tears continue to roll down your cheeks.

“I never had anyone care about me as much as you care about Guizhong. Friend or not, you still care about her and keep her memories alive by talking about her and what she has done. I wish I have someone that cares about me as much as you care about her,” you rest your head on your knees, letting your tears stain your pants.

Your body shakes as you cry into your lap, refusing to sit straight when you sense Zhongli stopping in front of you. You dig your nails into your legs, trying to stifle your sobs, only for them to come out as sniffles and choked gasps. You feel Zhongli grab you by your biceps, carefully pulling you up and to his chest. You wanted to resist and pull away from his grasp, but you didn’t do it. You let Zhongli wrap his arms around your waist and wipe your tears away while you grip his shirt tightly.

“People never think about me in my world. I’m either their second choice, an afterthought, or they never think about me.” You rest your head against Zhongli’s chest, listening to his heart beating against his chest. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you care about Guizhong more than me. I would pick her over me if I can,” you mutter.

Zhongli grasps your chin and tilts your head, looking into your eyes. He’s glaring at you. Your bottom lip trembles as tears continue to slide down your cheeks. Archons, you most likely look like a mess in Zhongli’s eyes. 

“Guizhong is a close friend of mine. I hold her dear to my heart,” Zhongli says.

You feel your heart breaking after hearing Zhongli’s response. You try to look away from Zhongli, but he has a firm grasp on your chin. Zhongli shakes his head, sighing.

“But I don’t hold her close to my heart as much as I do with you,” Zhongli murmurs. “Yes, she is my friend, and I miss her, but I learned to accept that she’s no longer with us. You, on the other hand, are the present. You mean the world to me, and I would kill anyone and anything that harms you,” Zhongli says, cupping your face in his hands.

You sniffle and close your eyes, leaning your head on his chest. “That still doesn’t change that you care about her more than you care about me.”

Zhongli sighs and presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “Stop saying that, [Y/N]. I care about you more than I care about Guizhong. You need to understand that, dearest,” Zhongli murmurs.

You close your eyes and whisper, “Then prove it. Prove to me that you care more about me than you care about Guizhong.”

You and Zhongli open your eyes and gaze at each other intently. Zhongli closes his eyes and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes shut, and you reluctantly kiss Zhongli back, feeling him hold your head in place. Zhongli backs you up toward your bed until the back of your knees hits the bedframe. You fall back and look at Zhongli, gulping when you see Zhongli start to tug and pull at his tie. If that’s not the most attractive thing you’ve seen today, then you don’t know what is. 

The first thing that came off was his coat, then his tie and button-up shirt soon accompanied his tailcoat that was discarded on the floor of your bedroom. Zhongli bites the tip of his glove and tugs it off while you stare at him with your mouth slightly ajar. Dammit! You’re supposed to be upset with Zhongli right now, not very horny for the ex-archon! Zhongli unbuckles his belt with one hand while pulling you to the edge of your bed by your ankles with his other hand. You feel yourself become flustered under his heated gaze.

Before you can say anything, Zhongli cages you between your bed and his body. Zhongli presses his lips against yours, his right hand sliding up your shirt before squeezing your breasts lightly. You tangle your fingers in Zhongli’s soft hair (he has really soft hair), your hand slowly snaking down to his ponytail and pulling on it. Zhongli groans into your mouth, pressing his erection against your core, causing you to jolt and whimper in his arms. 

Zhongli breaks the kiss before pressing his lips against your neck, licking, sucking, and lightly biting your neck. Zhongli kneels on your bed before sliding his other hand up your shirt, squeezing and fondling your breasts. You throw your head back, pressing your chest against Zhongli’s chest. The sound of your pants and small whimpers fill the quiet air between you and Zhongli. While you’re distracted by the feeling of Zhongli sucking on your neck and fondling your breasts, a loud rip echo in the room.

You lift your head to see Zhongli tossing away the fabric of your shirt over his shoulders, still occupied with leaving love bites all over your neck. You run your hands all over Zhongli’s torso, feeling his muscles ripple beneath your hands. This man is built like a god! Wait a minute. He is a god. How could that slip your mind? Zhongli pulls away from your neck and grabs onto your pants and panties, looping his fingers around the waistband before yanking both your pants and underwear down to your ankles.

“H-Hey! I can’t be the only one that’s naked!” You sputter, heat rushing to your cheeks as you try to cover your naked body from his eyes. 

Zhongli ignores your comment and continues to drop on his knees in front of your sopping-wet heat. Zhongli licks his lips at the sight, grabs your waist, and pulls you toward him. Zhongli latches his mouth on your entrance and begins swirling his tongue and lapping at your juices while gripping your thighs. If it weren’t for Zhongli holding your thighs, your thighs would’ve clamped over his head, trapping him between your legs.

Zhongli continues to devour you, letting his fingers ghost over the small ball of nerve. You twitch and grip Zhongli’s hair, whimpering and quivering in Zhongli’s hold. Zhongli pinches and twists the sensitive ball of nerve with his thumb and index finger, making you jolt and let out a choked gasp. Your toes curl, your back arches, and your tongue lolls out of your mouth when Zhongli penetrates his tongue into your entrance. 

“Zhongli~! Stop teasing me, and just fuck me already!” You whine, gently tugging at the roots of his hair.

Zhongli pulls away from your heat and chuckles, licking your juices off his lips before kissing the inside of your thighs. You take deep gulps of air, trying to catch your breath and process what had happened moments ago. Zhongli knows how to put his mouth to work. Literally, not just by talking about the history of Liyue and the Archon War. Zhongli stands up and unzips his pants, pulling his pants and boxers along with them.

You stare at Zhongli with wide eyes and mouth wide open. You point at Zhongli’s cock and shake your head. There is no way in hell he’s going to fit inside of you with one cock, let alone two huge cocks. Speaking of his two huge cocks, they’re both erect, red at the tips, pre-cum beading at the slit of his pretty cocks. You never thought you would consider calling dicks beautiful, yet here you are. You look away from the Liyuen man, face hot. You tap on your cheek and poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue.

“Zhongli, my love, I think you left out one key piece of information about yourself before we started dating,” you said casually. “I’m sure the men have one…. Dick…. But you, my dear, loving boyfriend… have two dicks,” you choke.

Zhongli strips what’s left of his clothes and climbs onto your bed, hovering above you. You didn’t look at Zhongli’s face, no. You’re staring at Zhongli’s two massive cocks that are pointed right in your direction, dripping with pre-cum and waiting to be inside of you. Oh, dear Archons, how in the world are you going to take two of his cocks?! Is he going to put both of them in one hole, or is he going to put one of his dicks in one of your holes and the other dick in your other hole? How is this going to work exactly? 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you feel Zhongli brush the tip of his nose against your jaws, his breath ghosting over your neck and jaws. 

“You’re not overthinking again, are you?” Zhongli murmurs, brushing his thumb against your jaws. 

You close your eyes and hold your breath, unsure of how to respond to Zhongli. First of all, yes, you’re overthinking, but not about Guizhong or Lumine looking a tiny bit like the God of Dust. Second of all, how can Zhongli act so casually when he did a meat reveal of a fucking lifetime? 

You gulp and laugh breathlessly. “I don’t think you’ll fit,” you mutter, peeking down at Zhongli’s angry red cocks. 

“Human bodies are capable of carrying babies and pushing an infant out from the uterus and birth canal,” Zhongli says casually.

You look at Zhongli, who looks back at you. While Zhongli is not wrong about that, birthing is pushing something out. This one, however, is Zhongli pushing two of his cocks inside of one (or two) holes.

“Do you not want me to….” you trail off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

Zhongli cocks an eyebrow at you. “Do you want to try to suck on my cocks?” Zhongli asks, the corner of his lips curving up. 

You gape at Zhongli like a fish out of water. “I-I can try!” You squeak, eyes darting down to his two cocks. Dear archons, they look intimidating. “I can’t promise you I’ll do a good job at it, especially when there are two,” you clear your throat. 

Zhongli leans back against the headboard of your bed. You crawl toward Zhongli and kneel between his spread legs. Zhongli’s cocks are erect, throbbing for attention. You reach forward and grab onto the cock above the other, causing Zhongli to hiss softly. You quickly pull your hands back, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Did I hurt you?!” You ask.

Zhongli shakes his head, gritting his teeth. “No, dearest, you didn’t hurt me,” Zhongli grunts.

You take a deep breath and grab both of his cocks with your hands and begin stroking them. Zhongli’s eyes roll to the back of his head while he emits a deep groan from his chest. You stare at both of his cocks intently, debating which cocks you’re going to be sucking on and which one you’ll be pumping with your hands— the one on top or the one below that?

You lean down and take Zhongli’s cock into your mouth while pumping his second cock with your hand. Your tongue laps over the bulbous tip of his cock, coating the top cock in your saliva while gently squeezing and pumping the cock below it. Other than the sound of you slobbering all over Zhongli’s cocks (and occasionally switching between the two), the sound of Zhongli’s labored breaths and his quiet grunts is all you can hear. 

Zhongli pulls your hair into a ponytail, pushing your head down further until the tip of your nose is pressing up against his pubes. You squeeze your eyes shut, whimpering when the tip of Zhongli’s cock touches the back of your throat, almost making you gag. Zhongli lets out the loudest groan when he feels the walls of your throat tightening around his cock. Zhongli can feel his impending orgasm. Zhongli pulls you off his cock before he can reach his orgasm, panting.

You wipe your lips and the forming tears in the corner of your eyes. Zhongli reaches forward and pulls you toward his chest before flipping you over onto your back. You squeeze your eyes shut to process how your world suddenly turned upside down. Zhongli grabs your chin, tilts your head up, and you slowly open your eyes. Zhongli’s amber eyes are glowing; he gazes at you with lust, love, and desire. 

“Are you ready?” Zhongli murmurs, leaning his head toward your neck and planting gentle kisses. 

You nod, wrapping your arms around Zhongli’s neck. “Please be gentle with me, Zhongli,” you whisper.

Zhongli presses one last kiss on your neck before spreading your legs apart. Zhongli starts rubbing both his cocks between your legs, the tip of his dick brushing against your throbbing bundle of nerves. You dig your nails into Zhongli’s back when you feel the tips of his cocks penetrating your entrance. 

Zhongli slowly sinks into your wet cavern, clenching his jaws when your walls wrap tightly around his cock. You shut your eyes and bite down on your lips, trying to hold in your whimper. The feeling of being stretched out by both of Zhongli’s cock is painful. Zhongli clutches onto the back of your neck with his right hand and wraps his left arm around your waist before pressing his hips against yours.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, a strained groan and whimper coming from you. You wrap your legs around Zhongli’s waist, clawing his back and leaving angry red marks in its wake.

“Z-Zhongli! Be gentle!” You whine, digging your heels into his ass cheeks.

Zhongli stays still, both of his cocks twitching inside of you. Zhongli massages your scalp, pressing kisses all over your neck and face while you’re trying to adjust to having both of his cocks inside of you. Your chest is heaving, your eyebrows are furrowing, and occasional whimpers can be heard coming from you.

Zhongli feels you shake your head.

“I don’t think I can take it, Zhongli,” you whisper, unintentionally tensing your legs.

Zhongli shushes you, pressing a kiss on the side of your head. “You’ll be okay. Just relax and don’t tense up. If you tense up, it’ll only make it painful for yourself,” Zhongli murmurs. 

Zhongli shifts, stretching your hole wider. You whimper and tighten your legs around his waist to stop him from moving and stretching you when you haven’t adjusted to his size yet.

“Ow, ow! Zhongli!” You hissed.

Zhongli mutters an apology, pressing his lips on the crown of your head. Both you and Zhongli stay still for a few minutes, letting you adjust to having both of his cocks inside you. You gradually let your legs relax around Zhongli’s waist, feeling yourself getting used to the size and feel of his dicks inside you. Zhongli slowly moves his waist against yours, rubbing his pubic bone against your sensitive ball of nerves. You grunt and squeeze your thighs around Zhongli’s hips, thighs quivering.

You gently squeeze his biceps. “You can move now,” you whisper.

Zhongli props himself on his biceps, caging you between his arms and your bed. Zhongli slowly pulls out from your entrance. You whimper, your hole tightening when Zhongli pulls his cock out from your heat. Zhongli pauses, leaving only the mushroom tip of his cocks inside of you. Zhongli looks at where the two of you are connected, then looks at you. You nod, signaling him to start. Zhongli slides his cocks back into you, emitting a loud, choked gasp from you. You clutch onto his bicep with one hand and your bedsheets with your other hand. Zhongli begins with a steady pace, his cocks hitting the deepest part inside of you. 

You pull Zhongli down, making him lie on top of you. You and Zhongli trade kisses, teeth clashing against each other. Zhongli breaks the kiss and forces your mouth open before spitting into your mouth. You stare at Zhongli with wide eyes, mouth ajar. You close your mouth and swallow, earning a smirk from the man above you.

Zhongli grabs your hair and proceeds to press his lips against yours while plunging his cock in and out of your sopping entrance. The sound of skin slapping, Zhongli’s grunts, your breathless whines, and your bedframe hitting against the wall is all you can hear. You roll your hips against Zhongli’s hips while he is mid-thrust, allowing the tip of his cocks to hit your cervix.

“Fuck!” You whine, your back arching and your entrance fluttering around his cocks.

You continue to roll your hips against Zhongli’s hips while he hammers his dicks in and out of your wet heat. Zhongli reaches for your right leg and throws them over his shoulder. The new position lets Zhongli’s cocks kiss your cervix. Zhongli slams his hips against yours, and you writhe beneath Zhongli, no longer able to contain your whimpers, whines, and gasps.

The more Zhongli continues to thrust his members in and out of your entrance, the closer you get to your orgasm. A tight coil begins to form in your lower abdomen, making you tighten around his cocks. Panicking, you tap on Zhongli’s shoulders.

“Zhongli, Zhongli. I’m about to cum,” You whine, rubbing your groin against Zhongli’s pubic bone.

Zhongli quickens his pace when he hears you telling him how close you are to cumming. Zhongli’s orgasm is near; he can feel it. Zhongli presses his nose against where your neck and shoulders meet, breathing in your scent. Zhongli purrs and latches his mouth to that area, biting down hard. You cry out in pain and pleasure, the velvety walls of your entrance clamping down on Zhongli’s cock. Your vision goes white, your ears ring, and you become limp in Zhongli’s arms.

Zhongli’s cum shoots deep inside your hole, filling you to the brim. Zhongli slowly removes his teeth from where your neck and shoulder meet, lapping his tongue at the blood that oozes from the bite mark. Zhongli collapses beside you. Zhongli wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to his chest without pulling his cocks out from your hole, plugging his and your cum with his cock.

You mumble incoherently, rubbing your eyes sleepily when you come to your senses. Zhongli props himself up with his right arm and gazes at you worriedly, caressing your face. You blink up at Zhongli sleepily and smile at him shyly, your face heating up with embarrassment. You lost consciousness for a few seconds when you had an earth-shattering orgasm. 

“Are you okay, dearest?” Zhongli murmurs, stroking your cheek.

You nod and snuggle against him, shuddering when you feel his cocks inside you. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sleepy, though,” you reply.

Zhongli kisses your temples, reaching for your blanket and throwing it over your and his body. “You should get some rest. I think I pushed you past your limit,” Zhongli says. 

You close your eyes, getting ready to fall asleep in his arms while he lies beside you. Zhongli’s chest is pressing up against your bare back. Zhongli is gently rubbing your hipbone while your head is resting on his biceps, slowly dozing off. Before you can fall asleep, someone pounds on your closed bedroom door, startling both you and Zhongli.

“Hey! We left the room to give you two some privacy to talk it out! Not fuck each other’s brains out!” Childe screams from the other side of the door.

You and Zhongli hear Itto groan. “Why does Zhongli always get the first dibs?!” Itto groused. 

You snort and continue to snuggle against Zhongli. Zhongli kisses the back of your head and continues to rub your hipbones. You adjust your position and wince when you feel your and Zhongli’s mixed cum oozing from your entrance and spilling onto the bedsheets.

“Looks like I’ll be cleaning the bedsheets after my nap,” you mumble, reaching for Zhongli’s hands and lacing your fingers with his, and closing your eyes.

Zhongli chuckles and pulls you up against his chest, his hands slowly snaking up to your breasts, squeezing them gently. You crack your eyes open and look at Zhongli from the corner of your eyes.

“You’re not hoping for a round two now, are you?” You ask.

Zhongli doesn’t respond. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed before lightly thrusting his hips against yours. You groan when you feel the tip of his cocks nudging your cervix. Looks like you won’t be getting that nap you were hoping for. 

Note: And here is the first smut of 2023! Not the best, but you know what, it's good to attempt it again after almost two months. There is this one request that I got that can be turned into another smut series like Crave, only it's different... kind of. I might get started on that soon, but since it's a request that involves all of the Genshin men, it will most likely turn into a smut series like Crave. Taglists are officially closed! I might make an updated version of the taglist sometime in the future, but I'm not entirely sure when exactly. I'm not checking Tumblr as often, but I will try to check it more once I (hopefully) open up my ask box. Another thing I want to add is that I'm not accepting requests at the moment. I'll let you all know when I am, but right now, requests are closed. Anyway, to my new or returning readers, I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @xyji, @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kwelibeeery, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @honeybedo, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @alteeeeyang, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @bajifairyy, @heyimkay, @milkpeanuts476, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @wynncrites, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

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[thesistersarcheron]

Pairing: Elriel Rating: E Word Count: ~4k Tags: PWP, Smut, Outdoor Sex, Feral Behavior, Dominant Azriel, Slight Degradation Kink, Forbidden Love & Secret Relationships, Established Relationship, Post-ACOSF, princess (derogatory), princess (affectionate) Summary: After Rhys reiterates his orders from that wretched Solstice night months later, Azriel snaps, and Elain quite happily earns herself a new nickname.

The long-awaited sequel to Breathless!

Read this fic on AO3 or check out a snippet under the cut.

The heat of high summer threatened to roast Azriel alive as he flew over Velaris. His shadows shrouded him from the worst of it, cool and mistlike where they lay against his skin, but even they could not fully shield his exposed wings from the sun’s furious glare.

Keep your hands off of my fucking princess.

Rhysand’s voice still echoed in his mind, the memory a fresh hell that was certain to haunt Azriel during his sleepless nights.

If you can’t get your mind out from between her legs, then you could at least pretend to have a shred of respect for her position.

Clenching his jaw against the fury gathering in his throat, Azriel tucked his wings, angling for the ground. Nosediving through the air was reckless, thoughtless—a move that would have gotten him whipped as a novice if any war camp commander had seen—but he savored the wind that stung his eyes and tore at his hair.

This rush of adrenaline felt better than the vicious, lung-shredding unworthiness clawing at his insides. That feeling had sunk its talons into him in his cell beneath his sire’s keep and held on all his life, through wars won and promotions earned and centuries of pining for a female who never wanted him back. 

And just when he thought he might have shaken it…

Now that Nesta has publicly accepted her bond with Cassian, Elain is the closest thing the Night Court has to a princess. And I won’t let you ruin the opportunity in front of us with your cock.

It was back.

In an instant, Az was just a nameless bastard again, clothed in rags and kept secret behind a door locked from the outside. A small, weak boy who had only scarred, ravaged hands and shadows that drove him near to madness to his name. 

He burned to think of the way Rhys’s cold eyes had pinned him to his seat in his heavily warded study in the House of Wind—black, empty pits of night void of any trace of stars. Though Azriel put everything he had into reinforcing the walls of ice around his mind, a ravenous, beastly feeling had stirred at the sight of the disdain in his brother’s expression.

Hell, he’d almost had to rustle his wings just to remind himself that they were no longer two emaciated, useless things hanging limply off his back for well over five centuries.

He had held off though—barely. If only so Rhys didn’t witness that moment of insecurity.

You know better than anyone how many eyes are on her. I won’t have her dragged through the scandal sheets every week like Cresseida and the Vanserra brothers. I expect you can respect that, at the very least?

Azriel could. The gossipmongers of Prythian had better spies than most governments. He could only imagine the malicious horse shit they would sell on every newsstand and street corner if they got the faintest hint of a rumor about the High Lady of Night’s quiet, reclusive sister.

The ground rushed toward him, but he waited until his shadows cried out in fright to snap open his wings. Every muscle and tendon in his back screamed with agony as he caught the wind, pulling out of his dive with a low groan.

While you were gone, Elain expressed a desire to take a more active role in the politics of this court. She cannot do that if she is embroiled in a fucking feud between my spymaster and the gods-damned Autumn Court.

Azriel, stupid with rage, had opened his mouth then. Can’t she? Feyre’s reputation hardly suffered after being caught between two High L—

Even now, with the wind roaring in his ears and his own wingbeats defeaning him, Azriel could hear the ear-splitting CRACK! as Rhysand’s hands slammed onto the desk he so rarely used.

The desk he only used when he wanted to speak to Azriel alone these days. 

Keep your hands off of my fucking princess.

The snarling command played on a loop in Azriel’s head.

And here he was, soaring low over the rooftops of the city, so easily identifiable in his leathers and Siphons. 

Reckless. 

Stupid. 

Everyone would see him.

People would talk.

He didn’t give a single shit.

He glided over the theater district, the Rainbow. The shadows whispered of shady dealings at the Palaces as they quickly passed beneath him—more insider trading from the governors, apparently, and Azriel tucked the information away for later—and gave way to the Sidra, which snaked down to the grander estates on the river’s eastern banks…

Neat, manicured hedgerows and alabaster stone crept into view.

Azriel hadn’t originally planned to go back to the River House at all after Rhysand summoned him out of the city for a meeting in the House of Wind. It was too risky, knowing Feyre would be home from her evening stroll to put the baby to bed by then. But his head went quiet at the sight of freshly trimmed rose bushes and clean-swept gravel paths. 

His feet touched down between the dahlias and the petunias.

And there she was, wielding a spade against the weeds that had terrorized her rhododendrons since the spring. It was undoubtedly hard work; as he watched, she sat back on her heels and swept the back of her hand over her glistening forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt on her smooth brow.

Elain, the shadows sighed fondly, forgetting the hell Azriel had just put them through.

One, a bold ribbon of utmost darkness, cooed, Princess.

As if Elain could hear the damned things calling to her, she turned her eyes toward him, squinting into the sun. Azriel’s chest squeezed with tenderness as her full lips formed a smile for him. Just for him.

“Azr— Oh!”

Azriel was upon her in three steps, falling to his knees in the cool patch of dirt beside her and hooking an arm around her waist. With his other hand, he took hold of her wrist, disarmed her in a swift, gentle twist of his. He tossed her spade into a bed across the gravel path. 

Better not to have sharp objects anywhere near her right now.

Her tinkling laughter trickled over him like water, a moment of cool relief from the sweltering day. ”Azriel, what in the world brought this on?”

He didn’t say a word. 

He wound the thick length of her hair around his fist and kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss—it was clashing teeth and bruised lips and sharp, possessive nips until he tasted precious metal on his tongue. 

--- Continue on AO3.

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #my fics #a court of thorns and roses fic #azriel shadowsinger #elain x azriel #touch me hold me tell me #breathless

[any-mouse]

Ra’s Al-Ghul Is Why We Batclan Can’t have Nice Relationships Things.

Ok, so. I am not someone who knows a lot about the DC fandom, but fics and the DCxDP crowd (who are why I’m here) have given me information and research binges have given me more. And here’s a take I haven’t seen about Jason’s death, and why Batman not killing Joker made things dangerous for Robins. Or did it?

Batman could not win. If Ra’s decided the only thing that would get his chosen heir, or at least son-in-law, into killing would be to kill Robin, it’s time to send his assassins in. Batman keeping to the “no-killing” rule is the only thing keeping a bunch of kids and teens from facing down, not the gangs and henchmen of Gotham, but a literal death cult.

Which is one thing that makes me wonder if that’s hadn’t been Ra’s’ plan, only manipulating the Joker into doing it for him. Which casts Batman undoing Nightwing’s killing of Joker in a very different light.

But there are other things that go along with that. And why Ra’s is a bit, fixated, on poor Tim. With how wrathful and brutal Batman became after, everything, it was only a matter of time before someone died. And then all Ra’s has to do is, wait. Drop hints or little reminders of the League, maybe have Talia swing by a few times. Allow the previous rapport to rebuild itself. In the meantime, build up Jason’s rage, anger, betrayal, and then unleash him on Gotham. Watch as the two brutal titans clashed, until Batman kills Red Hood. It would utterly destroy Bruce to have been the one to kill Jason a second time.

But, ah, there is a chance to fix this. The Lazarus Pit. Bruce will do anything to undo this fatal mistake, wrought at his hands and driven by his wrath. And in his grief stricken desperation, as he looks back on his rampage with despair, at all of the people he maimed, crippled, and killed in his agony, in steps Ra’s. Don’t worry, Ra’s has been collecting them. Fixing them. He does not agree with Bruce’s decision to leave, he still does not support Batman’s policies. But he knew it was important to Bruce so he took steps to ensure that no irreparable damage was done. Slowly, carefully, drawing a grateful Batman back into the fold. Wearing away at morals already cracked by grief and rage, using soft words where harshness has failed. Reviving Jason once again, keeping the two of them orbiting each other like binary stars, unable to leave, but always wanting to stay.

And it’s all foiled by one rich brat who’s stealthier than he has any right to be. Tim knows that Batman is going off the rails of sanity at an ever quickening pace. If he’s close enough for good pictures, he’s close enough for first aid and responder calls. So there is A Lot of damage and wreckage left in Batman’s wake, but nothing that isn’t salvageable. Ra’s won’t have a cadre of former henchmen and goons brainwashed into serving as Gotham’s foot soldiers but that would have been secondary. But Tim does more than that. Tim throws himself between Gotham and Batman because no one else will. Tim is a highly intelligent and self-sufficient child. His self-worth is in the toilet, thank you very much Drake bio-donors.

So Tim out-stubborns Batman and glues himself to his side and pulls him back. He cuts off the roaring rampage of revenge. Batman starts healing and Ra’s just can’t have that, oh no. But this is an easy enough fix, and it’s even better than the first plan. After all, loosing the last Robin to a violent villain led them to this point. How much worse would it be, to have started to heal, only to have it happen again? To destabilize that way again? Oh, Batman will never be able to resist, there had always been the possibility that Red Hood would win. Not high, and not an unworkable outcome, but snuffing out yet another Robin would ensure Red Hood would die, and then Ra’s would have another knife to twist Jason to his will. Taking pointer from his killer, not just his name, tsk tsk.

And it’s not like he couldn’t revive Tim as well, play the two of them off against each other and Bruce. Using their enmity and bitterness to wound Bruce, using Bruce to keep the two of them from spiraling out of control in their rivalry, make them resent Bruce for picking sides, rubbing salt into Jason that Bruce cared enough to avenge Tim but not him. Taunting Tim for what Bruce dragged them all into over Jason. Throw Damian into it just when it seemed to be settling into an uneasy dynamic equilibrium. Setting the boys on Blüdhaven, drawing in Bruce. See which way Bruce jumped, to protect Dick from the boys or if Bruce will try and recruit Nightwing for the League.

Ra’s has so much to gain from Joker killing Jason. It wouldn’t be difficult to send in a few assassins disguised as henchmen to plant the idea. Sacrifice a pawn or two, to gain a queen and rook.

#dc extended universe #dc fandom #ra’s al ghul #batman #batfam #league of assassins #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #damian al ghul #jason todd #red hood #dc joker

[britcision]

Ahem… anyway… THE GALA BEGINS! Available on AO3, linked in the first chapter

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—————-

Party At Brucie’s

Jason had been added to the Team Phantom group chat pretty much immediately on return from the Ghost Zone.

And maybe Danny hadn’t been the most tactful, but he’d sure as shit made Jason laugh.

‘DannyP: New halfa just dropped!! *DannyP has added JTodd to the chat*’

Jason then got to spend a couple hours explaining the situation and watching Sam and Tucker roast Danny to within an inch of his life about it.

He liked the Team Phantom group chat. Definitely preferred it over the Wayne family group chat or the Bat Chat for those few days leading up to the gala.

Fucking Dick sending pictures of him.

Red Hood was NOT cute. No matter what any of them said. He was just glad Dick had been considerate enough to crop it to his own face, not showing Danny’s.

Small mercies.

He’d have avoided Wayne manor until the last second if he hadn’t known he’d then have to deal with them at the gala, in front of Danny.

So, the morning after the photo (and his brief, apparently unnoticed sojourn to another dimension) he made his way back to the mansion, wondering idly what he’d be doing if the pit rage wasn’t a still a soft, gentle ball of calm.

He could see himself being pissed he’d been spied on. Turned it into something dark and nasty.

As it was… well, he was mildly annoyed. Maybe just the tiniest, ittiest bittiest bit touched Dick had come to check on him.

Mostly? Dread. Apprehension, really. They weren’t gonna hurt him or do anything nasty.

Buuuuut Jason remembered being an Extreme Little Shit to Dick when he was crushing on Babs, and while he totally, absolutely did not have a crush on his new king…

Well, it was a cute picture. Smiling, blushing Jason, and even he had a hard time believing it was of him.

It looked like he had a crush.

But really it was exertion from the wrestling just before it was taken, definitely for sure.

He wasn’t gonna argue that though; it’d be admitting the idea had merit beyond just dismissing it.

He’d managed to wake up in time (after chatting with Danny’s friends online into the night) for Alfred’s pancakes, and that’d make up for damn near anything, even Steph being home.

She didn’t always stay at the manor, but there was a chance she’d crashed out for those same sweet heavenly pancakes.

Jason had another mission now anyway, and the good news was that Bruce would be home; no one in business got shit done in the week between Christmas and the New Year.

The bad news was… Bruce would be home, Jason would have to talk to him.

Joy.

But for Alfred’s pancakes Jason would fight the devil himself, with his bangin’ new gun to boot.

(He’d taken the time to have a longer look at that too; a Colt revolver, not quite his usual machine pistols, but classic. It had a satisfying weight in his hand and was a neat matte black, with just the strangest hint of red light flickering across it.

Danny said the sword burned green in its owner’s hand; something to check out at the range. Maybe in the cave. And, apparently, it was definitely non lethal.

Knowing this because Danny’d seen people stabbed with the sword version did not reassure Jason.)

The table was mostly empty when Jason arrived, which wasn’t exactly a shock. Duke was in, and he gave Jason a half shy smile and nodded.

They hadn’t interacted much; Duke was new, and he was Gotham’s daytime hero, while Jason still preferred to patrol at night. Still, he’d helped out a couple times.

They got along, even when Jason was at odds with the rest of the bat clan.

And his phone was on the table, likely with the group chat on it.

Jason gave him a nod and a half smile of his own as he took his seat. Not right next to Duke; the table was big and empty, he didn’t wanna crowd. He sat across from him instead, so they could talk.

“You can ask,” he said by way of greeting, tipping back to grin at Alfred as the man brought him a stack, “and you are the real hero, Alfie.”

Duke hid a grin in his juice as Alfred raised an eyebrow at Jason, not quite in reprimand.

“As you say, Master Jason,” the butler said calmly, setting down his plate. “You were missed at dinner. Twice.”

Jason made a face and shrugged, knowing full well what Alfred actually meant. He hadn’t actually decided how much he wanted to tell them about Danny yet.

Alfred? Alfred he trusted without question or reservation. Even to keep secrets from Bruce, if he didn’t think it would hurt someone.

But if Bruce knew he told Alfred something and not him, he’d pout. And while Jason wouldn’t have to deal with it, the others would, and Jason dealt with them.

For now, it was better to keep anything ghost related quiet. Bruce would want to know absolutely everything, and frankly?

Just once, Jason would like a handle on something first. Just this once, he wanted to know what was going on with his body. With his life.

It wasn’t that much to ask.

So he gave Alfred a sheepish smile, half wishing he could just put a hand on the man’s shoulder. Touching with Danny was so easy, he hadn’t realised how much casual touch was missing from his life.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Wasn’t exactly myself, so I figured I’d keep out of everyones’ hair.” He wasn’t expecting the worried look Duke gave him as he turned back to the table.

Wary? That’d make sense. They were all fucking pros at talking around the pit rage, and Jason knew they all expected him to lose it at some point.

He had. More than once.

“Are you feeling better now?” Duke asked softly, not quite able to make eye contact and poking at his pancakes instead.

Jason took a moment to just. Enjoy the warmth that rose from the simple question. No worrying it was fake, no green hunting for ulterior motives.

His brother cared. It could be that simple.

He spread his hands and smiled, shrugging.

“Good as I can be. Figured I’d come back and socialise since I have a party to go to this weekend. Are you coming?” Fuck, was it really tomorrow?

Duke studied his face for a long moment (being in the detective family was finally getting to him, Jason knew that squint) then smiled back.

“Nah, I’m working before and after. I got a conveniently timed lead,” he added smugly, leaning back in his seat.

Jason made the appropriate noises of jealousy and Duke chuckled, shaking his head.

“Hey, I have another three weeks to go to beat Damian’s record, and I haven’t even stabbed anyone. I’ll come to your next one,” he promised. Paused again.

Coming to a decision, he leaned in across the table and beckoned Jason to join him. Shifting his plate aside, Jason did so, wondering what Duke wouldn’t want overheard.

“It seems like the pit’s been worse lately,” the younger man said softly, finally meeting Jason’s eye, “are you okay?”

And oh, apparently since the pit itself was still in post-Danny bliss, Jason’s regular emotions were going to choke him. Lovely.

He forced a smile, leaning back so there was half a chance Duke might not read it in his face. For half a second, he considered telling the truth.

Buuuuut the truth would get complicated real quick.

“It’s been bad,” he agreed, keeping his voice level with all the stubbornness that propelled him to the Far Frozen, “but it’s gonna be fine. I’ve got a new strategy and it’s getting it back under control.”

Duke didn’t quite follow his lead right away, sharp eyes scanning every inch of Jason’s posture. Fuck, if Dick was here, Tim, maybe even Cass?

He’d be screwed. Just had to hope Duke wasn’t at that level of intrusive bastard yet.

Whatever he saw, it settled him enough that he relaxed as he leaned back, crossing one ankle onto his knee and grinning.

“And would this strategy have anything to do with a hundred pound twink throwing you around?” He asked, suddenly cheeky.

Jason’s cheeks flushed at just the memory and his smile spread, becoming something more real.

“Fuck, I said you could ask, didn’t I?” He groaned melodramatically, letting his head drop back for a moment before getting back to his pancakes.

Letting them go cold would be worse than a sin.

“You did,” Duke confirmed, a hint of laughter in his voice.

There was a lot of laughter in Jason’s life lately. It felt really good to notice that. Swallowing a large bite of syrupy goodness he thought about Danny for a moment.

Danny and everything he’d learned both from and because of him. A soft, sappy smile stretched across his face entirely without his noticing.

“Yeah. It does.”

Duke considered snapping another quick pic for the group chat. But honestly… it was just nice to see, and he hoped whatever it was worked.

Duke had seen people struggle with addiction, some of whom never found out who spiked their first dose. It wasn’t the same, but… he hated seeing people fighting something beyond their control.

On impulse he reached across the table and patted Jason’s hand.

“Then I’m happy for you man. Right up until Dick gets here,” he added as loud steps descended the stairs towards them, debating fleeing the room himself.

Some of the rowdier birds still managed to surprise him, but. Fuck it. He had to get used to it some time.

Jason groaned and shovelled another large bite of pancake into his mouth, speaking as he chewed.

“Dick’s here?”

The eldest usually went back to Bludhaven at the end of the night, to his own place and his cop job and… aaaaand Dick had taken the day off to help Jason get a fucking suit.

Of course.

He’d forgotten, possibly by sheer optimism. He didn’t have time to lament the slip before Dick charged into the kitchen, spotted him, and slammed into the chair beside him hard enough that it skidded over and hit his own.

“Jaybird! I thought I heard your voice! Tell me everything about your new boyfriend, is he nice? Do we get to meet him? What’s his name?” He asked without pausing for breath, resting his chin on Jason’s shoulder and grinning.

Jason stared him dead in the eye and took a slow, deliberate bite of pancake. Across the table Duke snickered, toying with his juice.

Dick groaned as loudly as he could, flopping back into his own seat as Alfred brought him a stack of his own.

“Awwww, c’mon Jaaaaaaaay, you know you wanna tell me everything! Is he coming to the gala? We can bring him suit shopping, I have Bruce’s card and he’ll never notice a second charge,” he wheedled, reaching for syrup without glancing at the table.

Duke pushed the bottle closer to his hand, giving Jason an entirely unapologetic shrug.

“You’re the one who said we could ask,” he pointed out innocently. Dick gasped in delight and Jason pointed his fork at the younger man.

“I said you could ask,” he corrected, stifling a grin when Dick pressed a hand to his chest, feigning injury.

Yeah, he and Danny would get along just fine. Drama queens the both of them.

Shit, Danny had black hair and blue eyes too, maybe Jason should keep him away from Bruce. Could you adopt a king?

“Jason! Little Wing! You’re not gonna tell our baby brother and not me!” Dick proclaimed dramatically, breaking off that train of thought.

Duke grinned wider, leaning over to grab a jug and refill his juice.

“Hey, I’m the cute one,” he said smugly as Dick protested. Jason chuckled, taking advantage of the distraction to finish the last of his pancakes.

He snagged Duke’s empty plate as well while the two argued, Dick utterly insistent that he was still the cute one, Duke calling him cute for the nursing home, and filled the dishwasher.

Alfred gave him a raised eyebrow from the stove, another set of pancakes already underway, and Jason shrugged.

“It’s quieter over here,” he said innocently, turning to lean back against the counter and watch his oldest and newest siblings fight.

Alfred made a low hum of approval, expertly flipping a pancake.

“You were always the quiet one, Master Jason,” the older man agreed and Jason almost argued before looking back to the table.

Compared to Dick? Yeah he kinda was. Jason could semi-reliably be persuaded to sit still with a book. Dick wouldn’t sit still if he wasn’t upside down.

Best to put him out of his misery though.

Giving Alfred a half smile, Jason made his way back to the table and swung back into his seat.

“Alright, fuckwits, you’re both adorable, now shut up or I won’t tell you shit.”

Dick’s mouth slammed shut immediately as he turned, leaning on the table and watching Jason wide eyed. Duke, eyes crinkled with laughter, leaned back in his chair and raised both hands.

Satisfied that he had their attention, Jason opened his mouth to give them some basics, then hesitated.

He’d been planning on asking Bruce if he could add a plus one to the list, so Danny’s friend Tucker could come and say hi. Just a friend.

He didn’t know much about the guy, except that he was fucking hilarious and worshipped the ground Tim walked on, but he didn’t know much about Danny either.

Buuuuut, if his siblings were all gonna be gushing fuckheads… it couldn’t hurt to mess them around a little. Schooling his smile into innocence, he turned his cup between his hands.

“I’m gonna ask Bruce today if he can come. He’s got a suit,” (Jason fervently hoped, but when they’d made the plan it hadn’t come up) “but you’ll all meet him at the gala.”

Duke groaned and flopped back in his chair, dropping his cup.

“Aw fuck, that’s not fair. Just three more weeks, Jason!” He complained, and Jason hid a grin in his own juice.

Tucker’s reaction the night before had been pretty similar; annoyed he wouldn’t get to meet the new halfa with the others. Too bad Duke wasn’t coming. There’d be more of their own class than at any other gala ever.

Dick was about as sympathetic as Danny and Sam had been too, grinning over at Duke and pointing with his knife.

“Hey, no one’s forcing you to go for Damian’s record for longest without attending a gala, Duke.”

Duke stuck his tongue out at Dick and sighed, glancing around.

“Yeah, but you guys don’t exactly make it sound fun. And if I go to one, neither of you assholes live at the manor anymore, and Bruce’ll expect me to show up for more. Can’t he meet you here, Jay?” He wheedled, trying the puppy eyes.

Sucks to be him, Jason spends half his time with the Alley kids and they were smaller, cuter, and more likely to kick him in the shins.

“Sorry Narrows, he’s coming in from out of town tomorrow. I’d bring him after but you’ll be in bed,” Jason teased and Duke groaned again.

Dick frowned, cocking his head.

“Wait, he’s gone out of town? He was here last night, why not stay?” He asked, looking for pieces to put together.

Luckily this was an easy one. Jason just shrugged.

“Gotta go get his suit. Apparently not everyone brings the good three piece to college,” he added and Dick grinned, shaking his head.

“Already going? My you’re certain Bruce’ll say yes,” he laughed and Jason grinned, spreading his hands.

“It’s my party, and it’s not like the venue charges by the head. I just gotta get his name on the list.”

“Hey, if I don’t get to meet him early, I want all the juicy details,” Duke cut in, pointing seriously at Dick. “You gotta tell me everything that happens.”

Dick raised his hand in a boy scout salute, which none of them had been. Jason only barely recognised it.

“Your words, my bond little man. I’ll even get you a pic of Jay and his date all gussied up,” he swore and Jason rolled his eyes.

“What makes you think we’re taking pictures?” He asked mostly rhetorically. Dick shot him a wicked grin.

“What makes you think you’ll know I’m taking it?”

Which, fair, expected, and totally valid. They’d all been just as annoying when Tim and Connor finally got together. Dickie kept a scrapbook.

There was some more noise from upstairs now, footsteps getting closer, and Jason wondered how many people had stayed overnight. Usually the manor just held Bruce, Alfred, Damian, Cass, and Duke.

Maybe half of those would be going to a given gala, so Jason had been reasonably confident he could be in and out. From the sounds of it, either all three missing members were on their way down, or there were extras.

Seeing his expression, Dick shrugged.

“Tim’s bribe to escape the gala was three nights of Alfred-supervised sleep, Steph stayed over with Cass to gossip, and Damian had Jon over. You’ve got a full house to satisfy,” he explained, eyes bright with laughter.

Jason hesitated for only a moment, considering bailing. His siblings were fine, one or one or in small groups. All at once? A little overwhelming.

Someone always managed to set him off eventually.

Almost reflexively he reached for the pit. Felt its warm, gentle peace. And let his shoulders settle.

Why not give it a shot? See how much was just something else’s rage and how much was him not being able to handle them all.

And they were getting close. Leaning in, he lowered his voice and hissed to the other two.

“Wanna pretend I’ve already told you everything?” He hissed, and very much enjoyed watching both of his brothers’ eyes light up with mischief.

“Okay but you actually do have to later,” Duke hissed back, all three now watching the doors avidly for the first sight of bodies. Dick nodded eager agreement, finally making headway on his own breakfast.

Footsteps in the hall. Not long left.

“His name’s Danny, we met at my grave on the 24th, he loves space and puns, he goes to Gotham U and I’ll text you more later,” Jason said quickly, not missing the light that went on above Dick’s head, then pushed back in his chair and sitting casually. “Pretend I told a joke.”

Duke and Dick burst into immediate, mostly genuine laughter as they dropped into similar poses and Jason grinned, a wave of affection for both washing over him.

Like the universe itself was giving him a gift, it was Steph who burst into the kitchen next, Cass and Tim both at her heels. Steph’s eyes gleamed almost unnaturally when she caught sight of Jason.

“You’re here! Did you bring your danger twink?” She exclaimed eagerly, almost tackling Duke when she slammed into the chair next to him even harder than Dick hit Jason’s.

That pushed Jason to cackle as well, even as Cass came and draped herself over his shoulders.

“My fucking what?“ he asked, leaning back to give her more space. Steph stole Duke’s juice and chugged it.

“Your danger twink! Tim said he kicked your ass!” She exclaimed, ducking away from Duke’s revenge smack and grinning unrepentantly at Alfred.

The butler tutted but didn’t say anything as he delivered another two plates of pancakes, coming back a second later with cutlery and a replacement cup for Duke.

Jason shot Tim a Look that went mostly unnoticed by the younger man, who looked still about half asleep as he dug into a stack. Must have been needing those three nights, especially if he agreed to so many.

Before he had to form a response, Dick cut in with a broad grin, dropping his own cutlery on a cleared plate.

“Oh no, he didn’t bring Danny today. Kid’s gotta run home for his tux so Jason can bring him on a fancy date,” he cooed, waggling his eyebrows at Jason.

Steph gasped, slamming her fists down on the table and setting everything bouncing. A quick swipe from Duke saved the juice, Dick dived for the syrup, and Jason kicked back from the table and away from his own falling cup, Cass pulling her feet up to skid with him.

Tim, completely missing an attempted stab at his pancakes as the plate bounced, gave the table a very suspicious look. Alfred gave him a fond smile and started the coffee maker.

Steph ignored all consequences.

“JASON! You already told them about him?!” She squeaked, half way across the table.

“Should have been up early, you missed all the spoilers,” Duke teased, holding the juice up and away incase she turned on him.

Which she did, clearly thinking about tickling, and saw the juice perilously close to over her head. And reconsidered.

Unable to match that firepower, she settled on ignoring the comment as though it were beneath her. Which put Jason back in her line of fire.

Hooking an arm around behind the chair, he scooped Cass into his lap as a human shield. She settled obligingly into place, tapping his shoulder for attention as she signed.

‘Coming to gala?’

Must be a nonverbal day. Not that Jason minded; their present siblings were loud enough for a whole squadron on their own. He liked that she was different; liked that she’d missed touch as much as he had, and the way she’d never move away.

Cuddling with Cass was one of the reasons he’d come back to the family at all. And one of the main reasons he’d stayed.

Alfred didn’t comment, placing her plate and cutlery in front of Jason’s spot as he scooched them both back to the table. Once he was sure she was comfy, Jason let his arms fall around her waist so she could eat.

“Yeah, he’s coming, if I can get Bruce to put him on the guest list. Are you coming, Cass?”

She didn’t bother looking around at him, lowering her knife for a moment to sign a firm ‘yes’ and he grinned, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Steph?” He asked, cocking a brow at the blonde.

Steph narrowed her eyes at him, taking a slow and deliberate bite of pancake.

“This feels like a trap,” she complained through a mouthful of food, accepting Alfred’s withering look as he placed a fresh black coffee in front of Tim.

This did at least serve to bring Tim back to life, even if there was less than no effect on Steph.

“What’s a trap?” He asked muzzily, fighting a yawn and chugging the coffee in one.

“Coming to the gala to meet Jason’s new booooyfriend,” Dick teased, ruffling Tim’s hair as he ran his plate to the dishwasher.

The younger swatted at his hand a full ten seconds too late, then huffed and got back to his pancakes.

Jason wondered if Danny might have some magic ghost powers that’d get the little fucker to sleep. He’d be replacing Jason in a grave at this rate.

And no matter what he might have thought early on, Jason’d die again himself before letting that happen. Or bribe the king of the dead.

The mention of the gala also served to perk him up though, and he gave Jason a suspicious frown.

“So he is a new boyfriend?” He asked, straightening and scooting closer to the table to rejoin the land of the living.

Jason shrugged.

“He’s coming to the gala, once I talk to-”

“Well I know you’re not talking about one of your siblings, not if he’s coming willingly,” the man himself said from the door, smiling when he saw the table full of most of his brood.

Which on Bruce, meant a barely there twitch of the lips. One they all recognised but still.

Brucie Wayne had beaming smiles for days.

Jason stiffened minutely against an anticipated wave of green, and felt almost lightheaded when nothing happened. Nothing but Cass leaning back into him a little more, one hand coming to cover his at her hip.

Of course she noticed. Turning his hand into hers he gave it a reassuring squeeze, then nodded to Bruce.

“Yeah, I came by to ask if I could add a plus one to the guest list? He won’t be arriving with me but I’d like you all to meet him.”

Visible surprise passed across Bruce’s face, which was a fun rarity, and Jason hid a smirk. Which faltered in the face of an almost wistful look, there and gone so fast he might have missed it.

And then Bruce was just his usual stoic self again, taking his own seat at the table while Dick bartered for more pancakes. If he put some work into it he could probably get some enjoyment from the stick up his ass.

“It’s your party Jason, you can add whoever you want to the guest list,” Bruce said calmly, like Jason had had any input whatsoever on the list so far.

Ideally he’d have cut more than half of it, but the whole point was to reintroduce him to “high society”.

He was still semi-seriously considering Dick’s offer to find him a cotillion gown for the evening. Less so now that Danny was coming.

For now he just nodded, giving Cass a quick squeeze.

“Who else is coming from the family?” He asked, mostly to the rest of the table as he turned from Bruce.

It was too weird to look at him, waiting for the pit to rise and not feeling anything. He wasn’t even sure how much of it was his own actual anger and what was just anticipation.

Cass raised a hand again and he gave her a quick jostle with his knees, making her giggle.

“I know you are, smart ass.”

“Just Cass, as far as I-“ Bruce began, cut off almost immediately as Dick swooped in to grab his seat, fresh pancakes in hand. So much for the dishwasher.

“Me too! I’m coming, Jaybird’s been telling us alllllll about his new boyfriend and he sounds great,” he declared firmly, also very much relishing in the flicker of surprise across Bruce’s face.

Steph chewed her lip, visibly considering her options, then sighed heavily.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” she agreed with a huff, “Jason only told those two and I wanna see him too.”

Duke, the other of “those two” as marked by Steph’s fork, grinned and rose from the table, both hands in the air.

“I’m out, I’m gonna be patrolling too close to the party start to get presentable in time,” he said cheerfully, snagging his and Jason’s glasses for the dishwasher.

“You could always come later in the evening,” Bruce offered, the hope in his voice only noticeable to his kids who knew him best.

“Nah, I’ll be out early too,” Duke cut in smoothly, giving Jason a nod, “but I’ll meet Danny later. Want me to go see if Damian and Jon are up?”

“His name is Danny?” Steph demanded, eyes narrowing as she zeroed back in on Jason. “Family name?”

“So you can stalk him?” Jason shot back, sticking his tongue out at her. “Detect it yourself. And nah, either I’ll see them before I go or on patrol tonight. I came by to see who was coming and warn you all to back off anyway.”

“Damian hasn’t said he’ll be attending, but if you’d like him to,” Bruce began, and Jason cut him off again, half wondering how long they could keep the streak going.

“Nah, it’s not like me and Danny are gonna be a one and done thing. He’ll have time to meet the demon brat later,” he added while Steph squealed.

Bruce had his pinchy bitch face on again and Jason had to admit, it wasn’t just the pit. He also did not like the guy.

But seeing as Bruce alternated between treating him like a rabid animal and overbearing “paternal affection”, Jason was giving himself a break on this one.

On his way to the door Duke paused, turning back and grinning at Jason.

“Oh, before I go. Tell ‘em the best part, Jason. What you told me before Dick got here,” he added when Jason looked momentarily confused.

Dick, highly offended, looked for a piece of Jason to poke that wasn’t covered by Cass.

“What! You left out the best part!” He bemoaned as Steph laughed at him.

It took Jason a moment to work out what Duke was talking about. He hadn’t told Duke anything funny or scandalous before Dick attacked. Except…

Yeah, that’d get Bruce’s panties in a twist.

Arms still hooked around Cass’s waist, partially to give Dick less targets, Jason watched the old man from the corner of his eye.

“Oh yeah. He’s been helping me with the pit,” he said innocently.

Silence but for the gentle sizzle of Alfred’s cooking choked the room. And lasted for a whole thirty seconds before erupting.

**

About an hour later Jason was leaving the manor again, the smile on his face satisfied if not particularly joyful.

Bruce had tried for an interrogation, but with Cass in his lap and Alfred glaring shotguns over his head, he hadn’t gotten far. Steph was declaring it True Love.

Dick had settled down immediately, which Jason had kinda expected. He’d had more pieces to put together than the others after the graveyard.

Tim was speed-googling every Danny in the city, and Jason half considered giving him a fake last name just to see what happened. Buuut Tim had slept last night, which meant they should be nice to him.

See if they could make it a habit. Jason maintained Tim wasn’t a dog to be pavlov’d, but he wasn’t the one who’d dated the guy. Steph insisted it could work.

And once Bruce had been silently threatened by every waking member at least once, Jason told him he’d text first and last name for the guest list. That the first name wouldn’t be “Daniel” might raise a brow, but hey.

It was Jason’s party.

Bruce could research Tucker Foley all he wanted to, right up until tomorrow evening. Maybe Jason’d send the message late.

Pulling out his phone, he shot a quick message off to the Team Phantom group chat.

‘JTodd: Tuck’s on the list. Also, two of my nosey bastard brothers saw us on my bike yesterday, so they think Danny’s my boyfriend. Also that Danny is my mystery plus one. Can we add them to the fuckery list?’

Three sets of scrolling dots appeared immediately, which meant all three were already up. Good to know.

Without waiting for an immediate reply, Jason stuffed his phone into his pocket and hopped onto his bike.

Him having a “secret boyfriend” would only add to the drama they were hoping to cause. Too bad he wouldn’t be seeing any of the gang in person before the gala, but they’d have plenty of time to plot.

***

Danny’s morning started a couple of hours later than Jason’s, and with much less breakfast incentives. No pancakes in this college kid’s life, and who needed them when he had a lifetime supply of Lucky Charms?

Unless he could make Lucky Charms pancakes. Now that would be perfection.

He didn’t bother getting dressed before eating either, secluding himself and his bowl straight back into bed to pull out his laptop.

They’d made a brand new group chat last night, one for just Sam, Tucker, and him. Sam had insisted they’d have some planning to do and Danny, fully aware they meant “grilling him endlessly about Jason Todd”, was more than happy to pop up a chat Jazz couldn’t see.

She’d have So Many Thoughts on them meeting in a graveyard. Hard pass. Hopefully she wouldn’t be able to scroll back through last night’s mess far enough for that part of the story.

They’d also planned a video call for this morning, which was basically why Danny was up before noon. Comfortably tucked into bed, he booted up his laptop and started the call.

Sam popped on first of course, already fully dressed and immaculately made up. She was also looming over her webcam like she was ready to pounce.

“Alright Danny, spill. When the fuck did you learn Jason Todd was a halfa?” She demanded.

Used to her by now, Danny took a noisy slurp of cereal milk. Sam rolled her eyes and pointed firmly at the lens.

“I will ask my parents to lend you one of Dad’s ties Danny, I swear I will.”

And that made Danny flinch. Mr Manson’s “ties” were never just a tie; each one had matching cufflinks, pocket squares, and a forty minute lecture on returning all items in pristine condition.

He wasn’t even sure the suit Jazz and Sam had helped him buy could take cufflinks. Most people in this century used buttons.

Lowering the bowl, he raised a hand in unequivocal surrender.

“Look, Tucker’s not even on yet, I don’t wanna have to answer the same questions twice. I swear I told you guys the truth last night!” He added when Sam’s eyes narrowed.

Folding her arms, she sat heavily back onto her bed and continued to glare, but all looming operations ceased. Close enough; she was willing to wait.

Danny relaxed as well, taking another spoonful of cereal.

“So, how’s Val?” He asked to fill the time.

And grinned when Sam’s expression immediately softened. She had it fucking Bad.

“She’s fine. Swears she isn’t pissed that my parents won’t let her come, but she wants back in the group chat. I didn’t tell her about Jason yet,” she added with another roll of her eyes when Danny opened his mouth, still chewing, “she just has some thoughts on shit you can get up to.”

That last part made Danny frown a little and he paused to swallow before speaking.

“Wait, you didn’t tell her about Jason? Why?” Sure, they hadn’t gotten that far into the full Phantom Personal History last night, but they would eventually. Especially if she went back into the chat.

Sam gave him a withering look.

“Because we ask Jason who he’s happy with learning that he’s half dead,” she said slowly, like he was stupid.

Which, fair. Danny had kept his own secret for so long he’d kind of forgotten it was a secret to keep. But…

“The whole world knows he died, and they’re all gonna learn he’s back tomorrow,” he pointed out, adding more cereal to the dregs of his milk.

Sam pressed her hands together, probably praying to Clockwork for patience.

“Danny I swear I will add Jazz to this call and have her give you the consent rant,” she said sweetly, in her most innocent Manson Party Voice.

Danny snickered into his cereal, fully aware he’d be hearing a lot more of that voice soon.

“You’re swearing a lot today Sam, wake up cranky?” He teased and grinned when she flipped him off.

“Anyway, do you wanna text Jason and check he’s cool with looping her in or should I message the chat?” She asked, already scooping up her own phone.

Danny hesitated for a second, glancing at the clock. Like he had any idea what schedule the guy operated on.

“I’ll text him later, he said he was gonna go deal with his family this morning to get Tuck on the invite list. And speak of the devil!” He cheered as the third window popped open, a sleepy Tucker in frame.

Clearly still in bed too, Tucker wiped drool from his chin and waved.

“Hey, sorry guys, I’m here… slow morning,” he said, like it was an anomaly.

Sam rolled her eyes, then tugged her laptop in and loomed over the camera again.

“So Danny, tell me when you found out Jason Todd was a halfa,” she demanded again, and Danny snickered some more.

“That’d be way more menacing if you hadn’t done it five minutes ago,” he pointed out and she flipped him off again.

“Eat dick, Fenton. Jason’s. Do you seriously expect me to believe you met that guy yesterday? You were sending us selfies from his fucking lap.”

Danny frowned, scooping more cereal into his mouth and swallowing half of it whole.

“Hey, he’s just a touchy guy! Also, his couch is shit and just that small.”

“And Jason himself is fucking enormous,” Tucker snorted, moving momentarily out of screen as he sat up and stretched, then repositioned his laptop.

“And that,” Danny acknowledged, pointing to Tuck. Hoping that’s where Tuck’s feed showed on Sam’s computer. She still didn’t look impressed.

“Dude. You’ve been in Gotham for like, a year. You didn’t know there was another halfa running around?” She asked sceptically.

Danny rolled his eyes back, see how she liked it.

“Yeah, because we all advertise on Craig’s List. He didn’t know he was a halfa until yesterday! And it’s not like I run around in the same social circles as Bruce Fucking Wayne.”

“Yeah, but you kinda do now though,” Tucker pointed out, visibly waking up as excitement flashed in his eyes, “which reminds me, can Jason get you any of the new Wayne Tech? I’d kill to get my hands on their newest tablet.”

“Okay one, no expanding my kingdom,” Danny scolded, raising a finger and then flipping up a second, “and two, you didn’t see this guy’s place. It was kinda a shithole, and I live in a dorm. I don’t think he’s that close to the family.”

Sam gave him her very best deadpan look, only slightly withered by screens and distance.

“We are literally going to a high society ball tomorrow in his honour, Danny. I think Bruce likes him just fine.”

Danny dropped his fingers and just wiggled the whole hand in the air beside his head.

“Eh, unlikely? I dunno, something went on with them when Jason died, or when he came back maybe, Jay won’t speak about it. But he didn’t want me to tell Bruce anything.”

Didn’t want it to get back to Batman, but they were withholding that particular detail from the rest of the team for now. These were the people Danny trusted with his secret, and now with Jason’s, but that one wasn’t theirs to tell.

Tucker rolled his eyes too, throwing both hands into the air.

“Then Bruce is clearly trying to buy back into his good graces, and guilt’s gotta be worth at least two new tablets!” He declared passionately.

Danny snorted most of a laugh through his nose, discarding his now-empty bowl onto the floor beside his bed.

“Look, I’ll ask, but no promises. They probably don’t want hackers cracking them right off the line,” he added with a smirk.

Tucker put on his very best offended face.

“Daniel, you wound me! I am no mere hacker! I am the sweet and loving god of technology, and I neeeeeeed a sacrifice!”

“Ew, don’t use the Vlad-nickname,” Sam hissed, flailing a pillow at the camera.

Tucker obligingly dropped onto his bed like she’d actually hit him, rolling through the sheets.

“Okay but the rest of my point stands!” A sudden thought occurred and he shot back up, snatching desperately at his laptop to keep it from falling to the floor. “WAIT! Danny, can he get me an internship?!”

Danny rolled his eyes, stuffing his fist into the cereal box to grab a dry handful. He was gonna need more sugar for this bullshit.

“Wrong Wayne adoptee, you’re thinking of Tim Drake. I dunno if he’ll even be at the gala, but you could always ask him,” he added thoughtfully, glancing at his phone.

Jason hadn’t known who else would be there from his side, beyond Bruce himself. Danny wasn’t quite sure if he wanted any of his brothers or sisters to come either.

For all they’d shared life secrets and soul underwear, he still didn’t know much about Jason’s day to day life.

Which wasn’t surprising. They’d properly known each other for a day.

It was just that he’d never met a halfa his age, who wasn’t his clone. Of course he wanted to know all about Jason. What he did, where he went, who was important in his life.

It was just regular curiosity. Totally normal.

Tucker was a gasping ball of delight at just the potential chance to meet Tim himself, while Sam lectured them both about “no ethical consumption under capitalism”.

Danny stuffed another handful of cereal into his mouth and looked back at his phone.

Jason was probably up now.

He could probably just text him.

He could ask for Tucker if Tim would be at the gala.

He could ask what Jason was wearing to the gala, and if he knew how the fuck cufflinks worked.

His phone buzzed like he’d willed the message to appear and he snatched it up, opening directly to the group chat. It was Jason!

‘JTodd: Tuck’s on the list. Also, two of my nosey bastard brothers saw us on my bike yesterday, so they think Danny’s my boyfriend. Also that Danny is my mystery plus one. Can we add them to the fuckery list?’

Tucker and Sam had gone quiet too, both checking their phones at the same time. Sam let out a triumphant laugh and began typing, even as Tucker whooped and joined in.

Probably asking if Tim Drake was coming.

Danny tapped out a couple of emojis before the rest of the message sunk in. They thought he and Jason were dating?

He could feel the heat creeping up his face as Sam looked up at the camera again, at exactly the wrong moment.

“Hey Danny, did you see?” She cooed sweetly, an utter shit eating grin on her face. “The rest of the Waynes sure think you’ve known each other for more than a day.”

Danny dropped his phone, message unsent.

“Yeah but they saw us for like a second, what would they know?“ he asked quickly, shooting for nonchalant and fully aware he’d missed by a mile.

Tucker cackled, sending off a message and then grinning back up at the call.

“I dunno, they might be onto something, those selfies you sent us were pretty cute,” he added slyly.

Danny flipped him off, scrabbling through the sheets for his buzzing phone.

“Cuz I’m fucking adorable. I don’t even know if he likes guys, or anyone at all, he’s just a new friend!”

“And the only member of your whole species that isn’t your clone or creepy beyond belief,” Sam cut in, sending off her own message too, “you might have a social responsibility.”

“To repopulate halfas?” Danny asked, rolling his eyes and finally snatching his phone back up, scanning their messages. “Shame we’re both men and that’s physically impossible.”

‘TechMasterF: Thanks dude! Always down to help fuck with family. Any idea who’ll be there?’

‘2Goth2Glorious: oh that’s perfect, we gotta keep them away from my parents… or let them think Danny’s stringing us both along 😈’

Well, Tucker was being surprisingly discrete. Good for him.

“I dunno, you could just shove more people into those ectoplasm pools that made Jason,” Tucker pointed out thoughtfully, now typing away on his laptop. Clearly had another window open.

Danny rolled his eyes, finally shooting off his own string of emojis. He was. Just not gonna address the dating thing.

“Somehow I don’t think it’s that easy, apparently a bunch of people have gone in and we don’t know how many changed or are just liminals.”

‘DannyP: 🙌🙌🎊🎊🐼🍷’

‘DannyP: definitely adding them to the fuckery list’

He knew the message had reached the group because Sam and Tucker both glanced at their phones, then groaned in unison.

“Dude, way to make him think you’re not interested,” Tucker sighed, wiggling his phone.

“It sounds like you’re insulted they’d think it,” Sam agreed firmly.

Danny stared at them, then down at his phone.

“Fucking how?? All I did was answer his question! And maybe I’m not interested,” he added quickly when Sam began to smirk.

“Give me a minute, I’m gonna work out how to delete your messages,” Tucker said solemnly, attention switching fully back to his phone.

“Hey, fuck off!” Danny half chuckled, shaking his head.

Sam sighed, speaking slowly again. It was her own damn fault for hauling them both up before noon if they were slow.

“Danny, you haven’t sent a message without emojis since you learned about emoticons. For you? It looks like you’re mad,” she explained, and Danny pouted, scrolling quickly back up through the chat.

Fuck. She had a point.

Jason hadn’t popped up on the read receipts yet, so he quickly swiped to delete the message.

“Okay but again, me and Jason don’t know each other all that well,” he protested, now staring at the empty message box and wondering what the fuck to type.

There wasn’t an emoji for “oh ancients your family thinks we’re dating and we’re totally not but not because you’re not a catch”.

Knowing Jason for long or not, those hints of low self esteem were pretty obvious. Danny saw them every day in the mirror. No wonder Sam and Tuck noticed over texts.

Okay, he might have noticed the lack of emojis. Being Robin probably meant overthinking everything when playing detective.

Sam sighed and actually poked the lens of her webcam.

“If I see a laughing emoji I am going to slap you tomorrow,” she said firmly.

Danny quickly hit backspace.

“Well what the fuck do you think I should say to that then?” He asked sharply.

Tucker sighed, abandoning his phone in favour of the laptop again.

“I dunno Danny, have you been flirting?” He asked, tone suggesting it was a rhetorical question.

Which was bullshit. It’s not like Danny and Jason had relayed all their conversations. No reason for him to know they’d been calling their meet ups “dates”.

That probably didn’t count as flirting anyway, they were just fucking around.

“Yeah, right after he read me Romeo and Juliet on his grave,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes extra hard to get his point across.

Tucker had the sheer audacity to laugh at him.

“Okay but you know that move would be a slam dunk on Sam,” he said with a sly look to the left. Must be where Sam showed on his screen.

The lady in question rolled her eyes and flipped Tuck off too, giving the camera a flat look.

“Danny, that is in fact called flirting.”

“It totally isn’t!” Danny argued, at least partially panicking.

Jason wasn’t flirting with him. Jason couldn’t be flirting with him. Danny might have been flirting with Jason, but that certainly didn’t mean the guy was flirting back!

Sam gave him a second secret even flatter look, then sighed and shook her head.

“I will never hear a single word from you about me and Val being “disaster lesbians” again, Danny Fenton,” she said firmly, and Danny huffed.

That wasn’t fucking fair. Sam and Val had been goddamn adorable when they were awkwardly flirting back and forth, both certain the other wasn’t interested.

This just couldn’t be the same situation.

Tuck snickered at both of them indiscriminately, glancing down at his phone.

“Yeah, well, Jason hasn’t messaged back yet so we’ll see. We picking up a Fenton Phone for him tonight too?” He asked suddenly, frowning at the camera.

Danny shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah, gotta come get you and a suit anyway so I figured I’d swing through Amity Park. Mom and Dad promised to take Jazz out so the lab’ll be empty.”

Which wasn’t technically a necessity anymore, since the Fenton parents were in on the secret. It was just an emotional necessity, because if Sam and Tuck were already this bad they’d be so much worse.

Probably try and send some message to Bruce Wayne congratulating him on being their new brother in law.

Nope.

No fucking way.

They had no one to blame but themselves.

***

New Years Eve came.

Jason was beginning to wish it hadn’t.

Dick had been as good as his word, sweeping Jason away to a tailor in the better parts of Gotham who took one look at Dick and told him to fuck off.

Finally, Jason had a suit made by a man with both good taste and the ability to read the room. He didn’t even condescend to either of them, with no witnesses at all.

Jason kept his card. Heavens forbid he need to go to more galas, but at least he could be well dressed now.

He hadn’t worn a proper suit since he was knee high, felt like. Dick insisted he looked fantastic, both at the tailor’s shop and tonight, giving him a sweeping once over and a wolf whistle.

Jason looked in the mirror and mostly saw Bruce, except for the shock of white hair. Kinda hated that.

He’d agreed to come to the manor first rather than going straight to the gala, which was being held at one of the city’s numerous ballrooms. Cheaper for Bruce when the inevitable rogue attack happened.

He was being reintroduced as Bruce’s ward, it made sense for them to arrive together. And Jason was maybe just a little smug that there were now enough of his siblings coming that they had to take a limo.

No sentimental heart to hearts in the back seat while he choked down rage for this asshole.

Cass had her own suit, blacker than black with a black undershirt. She made an adorable baby goth, the only pop of colour the red embroidery on her collar.

Jason hadn’t put it together until she’d tapped it and signed to him, ‘yours’. She was wearing his Red Hood colours, and the urge to laugh just about beat out the urge to cry.

Dick was a little more traditional, black suite, white shirt, emerald green tie. Matching Jason, except Jason had gone for blue. Tim matched them both except for the deeply sullen look on his face.

(Dick confided in a whisper that he’d still spent the night at the manor, even after deciding he’d come to the gala. Alfred had switched immediately from the bribe not to go to threatening not to let Tim go if he didn’t have enough sleep to look presentable.)

Steph had shown up after all, in a long sweeping dress that was almost the same purple as her suit, cut short enough not to get in her way if she had to run. Or go up and down stairs, conveniently, so she had a civilian excuse.

Even Damian was present, looking extremely suspicious of the lot of them. He’d wasted no time telling Jason that he was there solely to assess this “Danny” and determine if he was worthy of joining the family.

Jason kinda considered slipping away to send Danny a warning text that he might be getting a shovel talk. Decided against it.

Watching the boy king of the dead being menaced by an actual baby was just too funny to miss.

Jason hadn’t deliberately waited til most of the family were in the car on purpose, but was rather pleased to find his siblings had been thinking of him.

Bruce was stuck down at one end of the car, Dick and Steph sandwiching him in while Steph talked animatedly to Cass on the closest side seat, Tim and then Damian beside her. Jason would be damn near at the other end of the vehicle.

Obviously Bruce had noticed despite Dick’s passionate and ongoing monologue about how funding Bludhaven’s police might mean less officers fell to bribery (which even Dick knew was bullshit). He seemed resigned more than anything.

The drive was quick and loud, and Jason had to wonder if he could have handled it at all with the pit before.

His… anticipation. Definitely anticipation.

Resignation.

Not fear.

Whatever he was feeling, it had garnered some attention, and the waters were shifting much sooner than they had after the last time he saw Danny.

He’d spent more than half the day on the couch, hugging Frostbite’s ghost succulent to his chest. It hadn’t noticeably helped, but maybe it had done something.

He’d spent the drive gently needling Damian about Cass wearing her suit better instead of fighting down green. That was a result in his books.

Cass wore her suit better than both of them combined. No matter how she felt, she didn’t look like she wanted to shrug her skin off. Jason was getting the hang of that still.

And now… now it was just the red carpet, the flashing cameras, and some asshole in an over starched suit announcing the Wayne Clan’s arrival.

Jason sucked in a breath, trying not to tense as his hand found the door handle. This wasn’t a fight. He wasn’t going into combat. He’d be fine.

Combat was much more fun. Even when he got shot, he was allowed to shoot people back.

His situational awareness was fully shot though, because he didn’t notice Bruce until the taller (fucker) man’s hand covered his.

“Allow me,” the older man said softly, those all too perceptive eyes tracking over Jason’s face. “I should get out first. Let them get a few shots to settle down, and then we all go in and you don’t have to do anything but stand for the speech.”

Jason fucking hated the part of himself that still wanted to lean in. To nod and let Bruce take the lead like a good little soldier.

And maybe he should, Bruce had done this way more than him, had always done his best to shield his wards from it. To his credit, he’d pretty much succeeded.

But Jason wasn’t a little kid anymore, and the one time he’d needed Bruce’s shield it hadn’t come.

He pushed the door open himself and stepped out, pulling on a smile at the last second.

Coming “back to life” meant back to the Wayne name, but let no one think he was still hiding behind Bruce.

On some level Bruce must have understood that, because there was a short pause before he followed him, all wide Brucie smile and fond affection. A warm hand clapped on Jason’s shoulder, almost the least they could be touching and still play happy families.

Then Damian followed, Tim and the girls, and finally Dick, throwing an arm around his shoulders and “coincidentally” tugging him away from Bruce’s hand.

He owed the guy a drink. And possibly some reassurance that he wasn’t actually going to bite Bruce for touching him.

They stayed for a moment for the family photos, then Dick cheerfully messed up Jason’s hair and they made their way up the carpet and into the event. Bruce was taken aside for a moment by an attendant and then they were being announced like it was a fucking Regency novel.

There was the slightest hint of a chance that Bruce had set it up with Jason in mind specifically. Not asked him if he wanted it or checked in, just gone ahead and done it.

That wasn’t what Jason liked about his classics, but the thought was warm in a soft way he hadn’t associated with Bruce in a long time.

They were about to disperse, the rest probably on the hunt for Danny, when Bruce caught Jason’s eye and nodded to a quiet spot. Sucking in a breath, Jason followed.

He’d been prepared to go through tonight with the pit in his ear, back when he thought it wasn’t optional. He could do it as just himself. No sweat.

Bruce waited a moment after Jason joined him, glancing around the room and lowering his voice below easy eavesdropping range.

“Your plus one has arrived, Jason. Would you like to make introductions now, or just go and join him? He seems a little… unaccustomed to these events, apparently,” he added with a sympathetic half smile.

None of them liked these events, but Jason had assumed Tucker would be arriving with Sam and Danny. Apparently not, as a quick scan of the room produced only one signature red beret.

By the refreshments. Perfect.

Jason even managed a smile of his own for Bruce, and felt more sad than angry at the flicker of surprise. He knew exactly how they’d come to this, yet… all he’d wanted was a home.

“I’ll go check on him. We’ll catch up with you later,” he added with a short nod.

He did want to introduce Danny and his friends to his siblings. And maybe to Bruce too. But that could come later.

He still had to officially meet Tucker first.

A slight smile pulling across his lips, he made his way across the hall to that trademarked red beret.

**

The bat siblings took a moment to put their heads together while Bruce and Jason talked, finalising their plan of attack.

“Alright, I think we need two teams. Tim and I will split so we each have someone who’s seen Danny,” Dick whispered, giving Tim a nod as he scanned the room.

Steph nodded firmly, liking her arm through Tim’s.

“I’ll take Tim and Damian to be my top stealth operative. You take Cass for yours. Stay within around 10 feet of each other but not obviously together, no need to let anyone think something’s up. Tim stay in the middle, so you can signal us if necessary,” she commanded and the others all nodded.

Damian pouted just a little, but he wasn’t about to argue with being put on stealth. It meant less talking to people.

They split apart, all doing their most charming smiles, just in time to see Jason moving purposefully across the room.

“Well shit, here we go,” Dick chuckled, offering Cass his arm. She slipped a hand into the crook of his elbow and let him guide her off in the same general direction as Jason.

Tim, Steph, and Damian split up, meandering gently along the other side of Jason’s path. Dick turned a beaming smile on a nearby couple that were moving in close enough the same direction.

Gala talk never went beyond surface level anyway, so it was easy to keep up the conversation while watching Jason make his way to the refreshments. And… joined someone.

Dick’s brow furrowed.

**

“That’s not him,” Tim hissed into Steph’s ear, catching her at one end of the drinks table.

Steph stopped, frowned, and looked down towards the middle, where Jason was chatting amicably with a young Black man in an off-the-rack suit.

“Are you sure?” She hissed back, leaning back towards him to reach for a glass.

Tim gave her a flat look.

“The guy at Jason’s was white. I’m not that tired,” he said flatly and Steph stifled a giggle.

“Yeah, okay, I believe you. So who’s that?”

“That would be Tucker Foley, the man Jason added to the guest list,” Damian said smartly, coming to Tim’s other side and passing Steph a glass.

Both turned to face him and he sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I checked Father’s phone this morning.”

Straightening, Steph took a careful sip of her juice, turning so her back was to the table.

“I checked last night, Jason hadn’t sent anything,” she whispered and Damian smirked.

“The message was from 9am. I believe he wanted to give Father less time to research him.”

“And us,” Tim agreed with a huff, grabbing his own drink at random. And hastily putting it back when it stank of whiskey.

“Apparently effectively,” Damian noted smugly, looking across the floor. Following his gaze, Tim saw Bruce pretending he wasn’t also watching Jason and his new friend.

Fighting a grin, Tim grabbed a glass that matched Steph’s instead.

“Yeah, okay, I’m less mad. Wanna try and get closer, demon brat?”

By the time he’d glanced down, Damian was already gone.

Steph hid her smile in another slow sip, then straightened and moved away from the table.

“I’ll be around. Oooh shit Dick’s moving in, not missing that,” she said suddenly, walking away at speed.

Tim spun back around and groaned. Okay, the oldest wasn’t the most subtle of the bats by a fucking long shot, but they should have at least had a minute.

With a philosophical shrug, he headed away just off Steph’s path to find his own eavesdropping spot. It’s not like they were trying to hide from Jason specifically.

Just his new friend.

**

Tucker had lit up like a sunbeam when Jason called out, turning to give him a once over and grinning.

“Okay, holy shit, how are you even bigger in person? I’d almost think you were a Fenton,” he exclaimed as Jason drew closer.

Jason didn’t bother trying to hide his curiosity.

“Oh? Danny’s not that tall.” Which had made it all the better when Danny took him to the floor, honestly.

Tucker’s grin widened.

“Danny’s dad is 6’9, and Jazz is 6’4. We think Clocky’s holding Danny’s growth spurt hostage til he takes the crown,” Tucker explained easily, deeply satisfied with the way Jason’s eyes widened.

Okay, the thought of Danny looming over him was not one he was prepared to deal with. Shaking his head like that’d help, he gave Tuck a curious look.

“I thought you were gonna be arriving with Danny and Sam by the way, are they around?” He couldn’t imagine they’d have left Tucker alone.

Tucker did look a lot more comfortable than he’d feared though, grabbing a few more of the delicate canapés.

“Yeah, Danny got me this afternoon, but then we thought it’d be funnier if Sam’s parents didn’t know I’m a guest of honour. Like a one-two punch when Danny’s Sam’s date,” he explained, then waved a hand. “It’s not the worst just waiting.”

Jason took a moment to glance around, clocking all five of his siblings and resisting the urge to wave. Barely. Another fun thought occurred.

“So do you want me to make myself scarce when they get here? Let them see you, and then drop that you’re a guest of honour?” He asked innocently, and Tucker’s eyes gleamed.

If Danny hadn’t told him both his friends were still living humans, he might have wondered. But apparently there was still a whole lot that none of them understood.

Jason had gotten through the entire ghost database Team Phantom had gifted him, and he had questions. But those would have to wait for another, less fun day.

Tucker nodded happily, looking around and back towards the entrance.

“Oh fucking yes, can you just kinda hover and then I’ll say hi? Let them get a couple sentences in before you come say hello?” He asked eagerly, and Jason grinned back.

Today was for fun. And crime. Gala crime, and not the inevitable rogue attack, the fun kind.

Fuck it was nice to have the chance to have fun.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. Also, my older brother is coming up behind you,” he continued innocently and Dick groaned, abandoning the sneak attempt and closing the rest of the distance, Cass still on his arm.

“Jason! I was trying to be cool and discrete,” he huffed, giving his little brother the puppy eyes before moving on to grin at Tucker. “Hey, as Jaybird says, I’m his brother Dick, this is our little sister Cass, and you are?”

And Jason maybe fell the littlest bit in love with Tucker as he turned to Dick, most innocent smile you’ve ever seen in your life on his face, and said,

“Oh hey, nice to meet you! I’m Danny.”

Dick’s sheer confusion lasted just long enough for Tucker to register it too, then he held out a hand to shake.

“Oh, really? Would you be the Danny Jason was telling us about at breakfast the other day?” He asked carefully, eyes flicking between Tucker and Jason.

Jason kept his smile utterly opaque. Tucker took the offered hand, innocent as anything.

“Well I wouldn’t know anything about that, Dick, but Jason did say he’d be getting me on the guest list, and here I am! It’s great to meet you both, Jason’s had only nice things to say.”

Which seemed to surprise Dick again, but not Cass as she smiled up at Jason.

She, of course, was already onto them. It was damn near impossible to get a lie past Cass but she could be quickly persuaded to join in with any fuckery.

Jason tipped her a quick wink while Dick went down some internal pathways and her smile widened, giving just the slightest hint of a nod back.

Sweet angel baby sister.

Dick was doing his best to make innocent, normal, definitely-not-interrogation conversation and Tucker was very happy to oblige him.

Absolutely none of them expected Tucker to turn and cheerfully address his next comment to the table.

“Yeah, well, Gotham’s a beautiful city but I bet this kind of event can get a little dull for the younger crowd, right?”

Immediately Jason scanned the area for Damian while Dick did his very best mildly-confused-puppy face.

“Uh… what do you mean, Danny?” He asked carefully, glancing in the direction Tucker was looking.

Tucker grinned at him and pointed down.

“Someone’s kid is hiding under the table. Pretty harmless way to keep out of trouble, right?” Tuck asked cheerfully.

Jason’s eyebrows shot into his hairline when Damian reluctantly crawled out from under the table, rising to frown up at the taller boy.

It made a kind of sense? Amity Park’s version of the rogues gallery was actual, literal ghosts and Tucker had been fighting them since he was Damian’s age. Being more observant than most went with the territory.

But he really wasn’t shy about outing himself at all.

Dick picked up the trailing question, knowing full well Damian wouldn’t, and pulled on his best Public Relations smile. He’d definitely noticed.

“Oh, yeah, this is our youngest brother Damian! He doesn’t really do parties,” he added by way of explanation when Damian just kept glowering.

Tucker nodded agreeably, giving Damian a nod of his own.

“I’m gonna have to introduce you to Sam, Damian, you guy’s’ll get along great! She hates these kinds of events too,” he added by way of explanation, apparently completely missing at least three bats zooming in on the information.

“Sam? Do you know someone else who’s coming?” Dick asked with very convincing casual curiosity.

Tucker just nodded again, as open as a well thumbed book, picking at his little plate of canapés.

“Oh yeah, Sam Manson, from Amity Park. She should be here soon, she’s a good friend. She always hides behind the fake plants,” he told Damian, winking conspiratorially.

If looks could kill, Tucker would have become a ghost.

Fully aware that at least two of his siblings were about to be doing some frantic googling, Jason took Tucker’s arm and turned him from the table.

“Well, we should get out of the way so the other guests can get at the food. Has anyone given you the tour, Tucker?” He asked, definitely not grinning at Damian.

It wasn’t “getting caught by a civilian” bad, but Damian didn’t know that.

Tucker gave a slightly sad look back to the trays of finger foods but quickly twigged, snapping his gaze back to Jason.

“No, they haven’t. Which way are the bathrooms?”

**

Five bats reconvened immediately in a distant corner of the ballroom.

“That’s definitely not the same guy, right Dick?”

“He said his name was Danny, he might be some kind of chameleon meta? He and Jason definitely knew each other.”

“Did he just catch Damian? Slipping there, baby bat.”

“There is something unnatural about him,” Damian insisted firmly, shooting Steph a murderous glare that was fully ignored.

After a brief moment, all four turned their full attention to Cass. She was the human lie detector.

Cass gave them all a polite smile and half shrug.

‘Very honest. Very open. Not hiding anything,’ she signed.

Damian’s eyes narrowed.

“He prattles like a fool but there is most definitely something off about him. No one as obtuse as he pretends to be would have detected my presence,” he said firmly, eyes locked with Cass’.

Tim rolled his eyes and waved a hand at the pair of them.

“Look, you slipped up Damian. None of us bothered bringing our A game to a party, it happens.”

Damian’s glare promised more cut grapple lines in Tim’s future.

“I did not slip, Drake. Todd and Grayson did not register my presence, but this boy did. And his name is Tucker Foley, not Danny,” he added sharply to Cass, “so he is also an exceptional liar.”

Tim flipped him off pretty much on principle. Dick shrugged, retaining his position as “everyones favourite brother” by not choosing sides.

“It might be a middle name or a nickname, D. He didn’t hesitate or stumble over it.”

Damian shook his head mulishly, turning a much milder glare on Dick. He pulled out his phone.

“Tucker Foley does not have a middle name, Grayson. He does have a Facebook connection named Daniel Fenton, mutual contacts with Samantha Manson.”

The other four convened on the phone screen, frowning. There indeed was Tucker’s Facebook page, which looked to have been dead for at least two years. Annual birthday messages from elderly relatives filled most of the wall.

Satisfied that they were now listening, Damian turned a sharp eyed stare on Tim.

“Drake should be next to engage. Foley is currently a student at MIT in science and technology, and his records are sealed beyond my ability to immediately break. You are the most technologically inclined and may bond with him,” he added, like they’d need an explanation.

The news made the others sit up and take notice. Any records sealed beyond what a Robin could get into, any Robin, meant better than normal encryption.

Steph already had her phone out too, browsing heavily.

“I can’t find any other trace of him,” she chimed in a moment later, frowning at the rest of the group, “the Facebook email’s definitely going somewhere, but there’s no other social media associated with it.”

Tim frowned, leaning towards her phone.

“Any leads on what his other email addresses might be? What’s the name?”

Steph flashed him her screen.

“It’s a private web server, he’s set up his own, but that’s empty too, at least at first glance. Anyone wanna text Babs?” She asked, eyes flashing from one to the other.

Dick sighed and pulled out his phone as well, glancing around the room.

“We shouldn’t be out of sight too long, people will notice. I’ll text Babs and see if she’s busy, then do some laps. See what people have to say about Foley and the Mansons. Same teams?”

Cass, who had no intention of letting anyone at these parties even suspect she could communicate with them without a translator, hooked her hand through his arm again.

Not only were people much more loose lipped when they thought you couldn’t understand them (and a certain type of asshole just knew that mute people were all stupid), she also wasn’t giving up a gold standard excuse to ignore anyone who tried to talk to her.

Tim, Damian, and Steph exchanged quick looks, then nodded.

“I’ll see if I can catch them somewhere on the tour,” Tim volunteered, nodding to Steph, “do you wanna see if anyone in our age range knows anything about Sam Manson? I’ve seen her before but never spoken to her..”

“Ours up to Dick’s, it looks like Foley’s a little younger than Jason,” she agreed, then turned to Damian, “I think you’re gonna have to stay in sight for the rest of the night though.”

Damian’s brow furrowed into its typical deep scowl lines. Boy would have wrinkles by 15.

“I shall find Father and see what he knows of Foley or the Mansons,” he decided sulkily, looking around the room.

Getting caught still stung, even if he was certain Foley was up to something suspicious. The real question was, what were Foley’s intentions?

Damian didn’t believe Todd would be willingly involved in anything that would hurt the family. Hurt Bruce, possibly, but nothing that would put any of his siblings in the potential crossfire.

The question was, what did Todd know about Foley?

**

Tim considered playing it subtle for about 30 seconds. Something about the look in Jason’s eye when he caught Tim’s changed his mind immediately.

Jason knew Tim and Dick had seen the real Danny. Jason was having fun. Why bother playing subtle when the game was on?

He put himself directly in their path and headed over, a nice, sociable gala smile on his face. Jason could try and duck and weave him, but that’d be obvious.

He didn’t, and even drew to a stop, something wicked in his smile as he turned to his companion.

“And this is my younger brother, Timothy Drake. Tim, this is…” he trailed off, clearly prepared to be absolutely steamrollered by the wide eyed young man.

“Tim Drake?! Hello, I’m Tucker Foley, I’m a huge fan of your work, some of the things coming out of WT this year were just incredible,” he gushed, holding out a hand to shake.

The hand was pretty much vibrating on its own. Tim took it and shook firmly, the smile growing just a little more genuine.

Score one for Demon Brat. He was a tech head. And, he noticed not hearing “Danny”. Jason didn’t seem upset, so this wasn’t the big game.

Tim wanted in on the big game.

“Hey, it’s always great to meet a fan. What kind of Wayne Tech are you rocking?”

Jason coughed suspiciously into his hand as Tucker dived into a pocket, pulling out… a weirdly clunky PDA? Definitely not something Tim had seen off the line.

“Oh, I don’t really go for prebuilt tech, but I’ve incorporated the motherboards from a couple of older WT tablets and got a couple extra gigs of RAM just to make it juicy,” he explained happily, turning it on.

Tim’s eyebrows rose as he moved in to peer at the screen. From the outside it looked like something Alfred might have used during his adventuring days, but it loaded like a dream.

Just from the few screens Tucker flicked through, Tim had to wonder just what this PDA was capable of. And maybe if he should be hanging out more in hardware hacker spaces.

Even Jason looked impressed, leaning in over Tucker’s other shoulder to watch as he ran them through a couple of different functions.

And that, the app they scrolled past super fast? That definitely said SpyWare, which was not something Tim had seen in an app store. Especially not for a device running WayneTech.

It was no Batcomputer, but for something built on older tech instead of better-than-new, it was easily the next best thing.

Tim looked back at the young man, significantly more impressed. This guy might actually be more interesting than the danger twink.

Just so long as he was on the right side.

“This is pretty cool, Tucker, I can’t wait to see what you could do with some of our newer stuff,” he said earnestly, and had the pleasure of watching the guy fucking melt.

“It would be such an honour to have you take more of a look some time, there’s soooo much I’d love to do with some of your newer tech and I have so many ideas,” Tucker absolutely gushed, and Tim stifled a laugh.

Even if he was a supervillain, Tucker Foley seemed like he’d be an easy one to handle. Hell, easy to get in his good books too.

If Jason didn’t mind him muscling in. Which, given the deeply satisfied grin on his face, he clearly didn’t.

“I’ve got some time free tomorrow, if you’re not in town for long?” Tim was genuinely considering giving this guy a job offer, an interview would save him some formalities to gather his paperwork.

And give Tim someone he knew for sure was both competent and willing to speak to him on the team. But…

Well. Jason wasn’t the only one with very few actual civilian friends. It was what made it so interesting.

And speaking of which, before Tucker could bite his hand off for the offer he raised it quickly, grinning. “On one condition.”

Tucker’s face fell just a little and Tim felt like an asshole, but Jason just raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the condition?” He asked for Tucker, who was stuck in some serious puppy eyes.

Tim smirked.

“You tell me who you’re fucking with tonight. And I want in.” No need to ask how if he could just join the game.

Tucker brightened right up too, stuffing the PDA back into a pocket that really shouldn’t have held it. Fuck Tim wanted to see more of it.

“Oh, sure! The more the merrier, right Jason?” He asked, glancing up at the taller man.

Jason shrugged, glanced around the room for a second, then nodded to a corner.

“Perfect timing, actually. Tuck, our mark is here. You go ahead and get started and I’ll fill Timmo in here as I follow.”

Turning as one, Tim and Tucker watched a well dressed couple at the top of the stairs, followed by a sullen young woman who was obviously their daughter and…

Danny. Real Danny. Arm in arm with the young woman.

Tucker’s grin was all mischief as he nodded, making a beeline for the couple.

“See you in five, guys,” he called over his shoulder.

Tim turned expectantly to Jason. Who grinned and linked an arm through his.

“Go have fun, Tuck.”

Was that why Jason was so open to Tim getting closer to his new boyfriend? If they already weren’t exclusive, that’d explain it.

Had Jason gotten himself involved in a polycule?

**

Danny’s New Years Eve was not going as well, hard as that may seem.

He liked to think he’d found a pretty nice suit for the event, Sam had footed the bill and sent him to her family’s outfitter. It was actually basically a smaller version of the one Mr Manson was wearing.

Sam’s parents had taken one look at him and called it cheap.

Now, the slow dawning horror on her mom’s face when Danny walked through the door? Classic. Incredible. Perfect start to the night.

First sight of Sam and the dress her parents had forced her into today? They might be burning the gala building down.

It was pastel purple. There were ruffles. There were bows. The bows were even still attached, which was an achievement on its own.

One probably only achieved because Sam had already planned her vengeance for later that day. This? This was just fuel for the fire.

He leaned closer while the parents were having their own little moment, trying to work out how they could have known and banned Danny. How they could get away with not bringing him.

“You look like Bo Peep,” he hissed from the corner of his mouth. Sam punched him.

“Shut the fuck up, you look like the Penguin,” she hissed back, eyes narrowed.

Danny snickered, watching the two adults in evening dress whipping themselves into a frenzy. His arrival had been very carefully timed; they had two minutes to get in the car or they’d be more than fashionably late.

“Think the Bat would get confused?” He asked half-interested, half wondering if Jason would save him.

Sam snorted a laugh and gave him a gentle shove, her mom reaching fever pitch in the background.

“Between you and the one person on Earth you’re taller than? Nah. Should we go get in the car?” She was about to move towards the vehicle when Danny caught her arm, grinning broadly.

“Fifty bucks for you to go give them your best baby girl eyes and ask what’s wrong.”

Sam visibly considered it, looking back at where the gesticulations were beginning to muss cuff-lines. Then she rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist.

“Nah, they’ll suspect something’s up. I want them to be surprised,” she added darkly, eyes already filled with a swirling bubbling vengeance.

Danny cackled and followed her to the door.

“Oh, that’s definitely gonna happen. I’m still having a hard fucking time believing this is real.”

**

The limousine ride had been tense to say the least, the older Mansons joining them just before the last second. They’d still gotten stuck in the winding trail of cars waiting to drop their guests off.

Mr Manson seemed to have resigned himself to Danny’s presence, and spent most of the ride lecturing him firmly on standards of decorum.

Every single part of Danny demanded he slump fully horizontal then and there, but Sam wanted them to be surprised, so best behaviour it was.

He let the older man correct his posture, did his best to answer seriously and respectfully, and charitably ignored Mrs Manson’s long suffering sighs. He could behave, when he wanted to.

He just wasn’t fucking going to.

He’d thought they were nearly at the fun part when the limousine finally stopped long enough for the door to open and let them out, but no. No, now they were in a standing line, waiting to be announced.

Mrs Manson had finally recovered her good mood, gushing excitedly to Sam, her husband, and the empty air above Danny about how this was Mr Wayne’s special request, such a traditional touch.

Clearly it meant the young Mr Todd was a romantic, and might be open to the idea of courting. Perhaps even looking to meet a suitable young lady.

If Danny was actually Sam’s date, he might have been offended. As it was, they were both hiding giggles behind their hands as often as they could raise them.

Finally, finally they reached the top of the stairs overlooking the main ballroom, an attendant checking an actual physical guest list before reading off the names.

Danny was going to fucking die again. The idea that rich people were actually still like this, in the twenty-first century? The laughter he was holding in would stop his heart.

And they hadn’t even gotten started.

Danny’s eyes swept the room automatically as they shuffled into place, their names called to the guests below.

Finding Jason was easy. He wasn’t the tallest man present, or even the broadest; he was in the same boring black and white penguin suit as most of the room.

He drew Danny’s gaze magnetically anyway, walking with a younger man with similar black hair and blue eyes. Probably a sibling. Jason might already be looping him in, they were making their way over.

Which meant… Danny slipped his arm down from Sam’s elbow til he could squeeze her hand, nodding subtly to the crowd.

Tucker Foley, entering stage left. From the corner of his eye he got to watch her grin go utterly feral as her parents reached the floor and Tucker stepped perfectly past the last small group.

“Mr and Mrs Manson! What a pleasure to see you here, it’s so nice to see more Amity Park faces!” He said smoothly, holding his hand out to shake.

Mrs Manson visibly recoiled, both hands snatching back to her bosom.

“You- you’re Sam’s little friend, aren’t you?” She asked sharply, gaze snapping all over his suit and stopping on his beret. She shuddered.

Tucker just kept smiling, turning to offer his hand to Mr Manson instead, who looked at it like it held something dead.

“That’s me! Tucker, remember? Isn’t this a great party? The decorations are just to die for.”

Danny stifled a snicker. No need to let on just yet as he and Sam drifted around to the side. From what he’d seen on the way over, Jason should be here soon.

“Oh, hey Tucker, I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said loudly instead, reaching neatly past Mr Manson to shake his friend’s hand.

Mrs Manson very nearly slapped his hand away from it before realising that no, Danny was the other trash friend, he couldn’t be contaminated by touch.

Sam was fucking simmering in satisfaction, her hand now tucked in the crook of Danny’s elbow like a sweet little damsel. Tucker’s eyes shot over the both of them and his grin broadened.

“Yeah, it was a little last minute, but I got a VIP invite so I couldn’t say no.”

Mr Manson’s laugh was just barely on the right side of blatantly insulting as he gave Tucker a sharp once over.

“You? A VIP guest? And who are you here with?” He asked nastily.

Silly man. Tucker’d clearly already gone through the flunky gauntlet. He shoulda known there would be an answer.

And the answer appeared in the far too handsome figure of Jason Todd himself, wearing a suit that at ground level? Yeah, Danny finally understood just how a good suit could fucking highlight a man’s figure.

Jason somehow looked even broader in the shoulders, well muscled but also polished, and Danny was almost too distracted to hear his next words.

“Tucker, hey, sorry I lost you for a moment. Are these friends of yours?” He asked, voice smooth as silk.

For a beautiful, glorious moment Mr Manson drew himself up higher and Danny almost hoped they wouldn’t recognise Jason.

He’d been “dead” a long time after all, and this was his first night back in public. And, y’know, he was about three feet taller than his last gala. And that new puff of white hair, that should have been a clue.

And then the other guy had stepped up on Tucker’s other side, his grin just as friendly.

“Hi, Tim Drake-Wayne, I see you’ve met my brother Jason and his plus one?” He said cheerfully, holding out his own hand to shake.

Something subtle yet twitching pinched in Mr Manson’s face. He shook Tim’s hand, then gingerly accepted Tucker’s still outstretched hand like it was some kind of unpleasant rodent.

Jason, still grinning broadly, shook his hand third, then turned towards Danny and Sam.

“And who is this ravishing young lady?” He asked, and both Mansons immediately perked up.

“This is our daughter, Samantha,” Mrs Manson said eagerly, neatly swiping her hand down between Sam and Danny to move her daughter to the fore.

Danny considered resisting, he really did, but not laughing was taking up a good chunk of his brain. Jason took Sam’s hand, bent over it and kissed her knuckles, blue-green eyes watching her through his lashes.

“A pleasure to meet you, Samantha,” he said but now his voice was low, sultry, and oh dear even Danny was getting a bit squirmy. Jason wasn’t even looking at him!

Sam twitched and her mother’s grip tightened to white knuckled on her elbows, clearly suspecting the temptation led towards violence. Danny and Tucker knew her a little better, knew the smile she put on was being held back from giggles, not forced.

“Same. So, how was being dead?” Sam asked casually, keeping up her usual semi-abrasive front. Mrs Manson gasped, but Jason just smiled wider as he rose.

“Restful. But we don’t all get to rise again, so I intend to take the chance with both hands,” he all but purred, still not releasing her hand.

Sam gently but firmly tugged it free, reaching back to grab Danny’s and pull him forward.

“Great. This is my date for the evening, Danny,” she added, giving her mother a very convincing sharp look.

Danny didn’t really notice anything else. Just that his hand was in Jason’s now, and Jason’s hand was big and hot, and Jason looked big and hot, and he was giving Danny that same smouldery look he’d given Sam. He had to lock his knees against shaking.

They’d had a plan. There was a plan. What the hell was the plan?

“A pleasure to meet you too, Danny,” Jason said softly as they shook hands, his voice still low and just maybe also holding onto laughter. Then he seemed to snap out of it, turning back to the others. “And of course, you’ve met Tim?”

Sam rolled her eyes and shook Tim’s hand too, and flicked Tucker in the forehead when he held his out with a shit eating grin.

“We went to high school, asshole, we do not need a fancy introduction,” she told him sharply.

“Oh, you already know Tucker?” Jason affected great surprise, moving very subtly until it looked like he was gently edging Danny out of the conversation.

It gave Danny a chance to check out his shoulders and maybe sneak a peek at his ass in those pants, so it was a win in his book.

Mrs Manson’s too, obviously, as she was visibly brightening by the second, even bestowing a warm smile on Tucker himself.

“Oh yes, he’s been one of Samantha’s best friends since she was just a teenager! Very close to the family,” she oozed, and Danny bit the inside of his lip to hide a grin.

Even Tucker looked a little shell shocked, but he pulled the smile back up before it became obvious.

“How did you two meet, by the way?” Mr Manson asked, looking calculatingly between Tucker and Jason. “I wasn’t aware you’d visited Gotham before, Tucker.”

Tim swooped in to field that one, so he was definitely in on the act now. What fun.

“Oh, they met through my work. Mr Foley here does some very impressive technical engineering, and I came across him scouting for a very prestigious internship position at WE. Jason came early to meet me after work on the same day as Tucker’s interview.”

And Tucker was right back to wide eyed awe. Quickly scooping his jaw off the floor, he puffed himself up, overcompensating a little in the rush of glee.

“Yeah! I was super honoured to get that far, and then Jason and I got to chatting on my way out. Of course I had no idea who you were,” he added quickly, grinning at Jason.

Jason shrugged modestly, keeping most of his attention on Sam.

“My unfortunate circumstances left my social life the real casualty I’m afraid. I don’t really know many people my own age.”

“Oh, perhaps you and Samantha can spend some time together then,” Mrs Manson gushed, immediately jumping on the opportunity, hand in the small of Sam’s back fully shoving her forward.

Sam narrowed her eyes, giving her mother a reasonably convincing glare.

“Mom, I’m here with Danny,” she stressed, reaching back to grab Danny’s hand and pull him after her.

Danny, still enjoying Jason’s shoulders from behind, nearly bumped into her from the sudden tug.

Jason gave them both another shot of that dazzling smile, stepping to the side like he’d never been blocking Danny. Which was a shame, since it meant the Mansons could see him again.

Mrs Manson visibly soured, then brightened again as Jason spoke.

“I’d love to spend some more time with both of you. I was just giving Tucker a quick tour of the venue, since it’s his first Gotham gala. Would you like to join us?” He offered, eyes still fixed on Sam.

She gave a barely mollified huff and allowed him to take her other arm.

“Fine. I need to show Danny where the bathrooms are anyway,” she declared, letting Jason lead them away from her parents.

Tim gave some quick apologies and hurried after them, all five teens falling silent to hear the Mansons as they left.

Not that it was hard.

“Isn’t that the alley trash Bruce took in?” Mr Manson asked, his voice barely quieter than his regular conversation.

“He is a Wayne now and besides, he has better prospects than that Fenton,” Mrs Manson hissed back, at least pretending to be more discreet.

Danny stifled a snicker as Tim gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Lovely people, your folks. Jason’s filled me in about them not letting you bring your girlfriend,” he said to Sam, and she rolled her eyes.

“They’re the fucking worst. I take it you’re in?” She asked, and Tim nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, always. I get dragged to these things more often than any of my siblings, so anything to make it more tolerable,” he added with a modest shrug.

Jason snickered, keeping Sam’s hand in his mostly for appearances.

“Your own fault for buying in to the family business, Timbo,” he teased and Tim stuck his tongue out at him.

“Yeah, well, it’s your fault I’m here this time, so the least you can do is keep me entertained,” he shot back cheerfully.

“Jason’s fault? How so?” Tucker asked innocently, keeping pace with Tim and trying not to look like an actual puppy. Game number two, Fucking With Siblings, was apparently still on.

Jason rolled his eyes, very intentionally not looking at Danny.

“Yeah Tim, why is it my fault?” He asked, clearly not expecting Tim to fess up.

Tim, of course, grinned straight at Danny.

“He told us we could meet his new friend the danger twink if we came tonight,” he said, entirely shamelessly.

Sam cackled, her grip tightening on Danny’s hand as she shot him a spectacularly filthy grin. Tucker sputtered and nearly tripped.

Danny felt his cheeks heat, but grinned back.

“Danger twink? Really?” He asked, turning and looking up at Jason. Whoooo still wasn’t looking at him.

“They came up with it,” he said stolidly, just the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

Tim nodded cheerfully, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by the next call from the top of the stairs.

“Mr Vladimir Masters!”

Danny actually did trip, stumbling into Sam and pushing her into Jason.

“Holy fucking shit what?!” He gasped, head whipping around a little faster than should be normal.

Tucker stared at him for a long, slow moment as Jason’s hands came up, steadying the pair of them.

“You fucking forgot Vlad was coming,” he said with a slowly dawning awe.

Danny, really doing his best not to beat his head off Jason’s very muscular arm, buried his face in the other man’s suit instead.

“I fucking forgot Vlad was coming,” he mumbled into very expensive fabric.

Sam burst out laughing, letting her weight sag into Jason too so she didn’t have to hold herself up.

He, the unfairly muscular bastard, was having no trouble supporting both of them.

Tucker’s entirely graceless snort of laughter almost covered Danny’s loud groan, and he treated himself to one bonk off a flexed tricep.

Ow.

Solid bastard. His life was just awesome today.

—————-

Next Chapter:

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny fenton dead and loving it #dead on main #jason todd x danny fenton #the gala begins!!!! #and also is gonna be at least one more chapter #maybe two #i totally never at any point forgot vlad was gonna be there hush #just danny

[bradshawsbaby]

Si Vis Amari Ama

IV. Kissed by Fire

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairings: Rooster (Roman Name: Gallus) x Female Reader (Roman Name: Sabina), featuring Hangman (Roman Name: Carnifex) x Phoenix

Summary: A girl whose freedom was stolen to pay her father’s debts. A gladiator enslaved for the entertainment of Rome. A love they never thought possible.

Author’s Note: This chapter ended up being a beast to write! It’s very Hannix-centered, so that you can have a little bit more context and background regarding Carnifex and Phoenix’s relationship. But fear not, for there are hints of Gallus and Sabina as well, and we’ll be back to our main protagonists in the next chapter!

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Explicit sexual content, slavery in the ancient world, gladiatorial training/combat, discussion of minor injuries, brief language, slight angst, idiots in love, alternating point of view.

She hadn’t meant to get tangled up with him. She really hadn’t. Yet here she was.

Phoenix prided herself on being a rational, intelligent, level-headed woman. Perhaps it was her Greek heritage, or maybe it was the fact that she had learned long ago that the less you said and the more you listened, the better off you would be in this world. Either way, in the years since she had been robbed of her freedom, she had learned to rely on no one but herself, save for a few trusted friends for whom she would gladly lay down her life. She didn’t expose herself to unnecessary dangers, and she didn’t enmesh herself in anything that would make life harder than it already was. She avoided complications at all costs.

Until him.

She hadn’t been able to stand him from the very first day he’d entered the ludus of Atticus Cornelius Juventus. A great champion, Dominus had called him while gloating about his latest acquisition during a dinner party. A mighty warrior. The only gladiator he had ever seen who could give even Gallus a run for his money.

Phoenix knew then who he was speaking of—Carnifex the Gaul. He was the opponent who had given Gallus the scar on his shoulder, the one whom her old friend detested so wholly and complained so bitterly about whenever they were pitted against one another.

She only had to know him for a day before she understood the sentiment.

Carnifex, the man so named because he had somehow managed to survive the hangman’s noose when his village in Gaul was put to Roman flames, was the smuggest man she had ever known. And that was saying something, considering she’d spent the better part of her life catering to the whims and fancies of some of the most spoiled men the Roman Empire had to offer. He was arrogant. Obnoxious. More in love with himself than Narcissus, and quick to throw all his fellow gladiators to the lions if it meant more fame and glory for himself.

He made her blood boil.

And what was worse? He knew it.

Almost from the moment they first met, Carnifex seemed to make it his personal mission to get under her skin as often as he possibly could. Whether it was winking at her from across the training grounds while she was working around the ludus, making disparaging comments about Gallus and the others when he knew she was within earshot, or smirking skeptically when she came to assist Titus with the gladiators’ medical needs, he seemed to know all the ways to make her grow hot with a rage so potent she almost thought it would choke her one day.

“Has he always been so unbearable?” Phoenix huffed in annoyance as she bandaged one of Gallus’ hands one day after a morning training session. Carnifex stood about twenty feet away from them, bragging to the younger, more inexperienced gladiators about his most recent victory.

“Always,” Gallus muttered darkly, frowning in the other gladiator’s direction for a moment before shifting his attention back to her. “Trust me, he hasn’t changed one bit since his arrival here. If anything, he’s only gotten worse. Keep your distance from him, as much as you can.”

Phoenix knew without having to ask what Gallus really meant when he shot her a pointed look. It was no secret among the household slaves that Carnifex was notorious for bedding the prettiest slave girls. And because he was a Pugio, one of Atticus’ champions, he got his pick of the litter. He never lacked for any willing volunteers either. She couldn’t count how many times she’d witnessed giggling, simpering girls tiptoe out of their slave quarters in the middle of the night, only to return a few hours later with hushed, breathless stories of what an incredible lover Carnifex the Gaul was. The others may have listened with bated breath, but Phoenix just covered her ears, shut her eyes, and tried to block them all out.

“After all these years, do you really think so little of me that you suppose I would fall into bed with a man like him?” Phoenix demanded, tying off Gallus’ bandage with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

Gallus winced slightly, a chastened expression in his dark eyes as he looked at her. “No,” he replied firmly, and she knew he meant it. “It’s him I’m wary of, not you. I just don’t want him getting any ideas in his head where you’re concerned, thinking that he can—”

“He won’t,” she cut him off, glancing over her shoulder at where Carnifex stood, having moved on from regaling his captive audience with tales of his conquests in the arena to tales of his conquests in bed. She felt the distaste on the back of her tongue like sour milk as she turned back to Gallus. “Trust me, he suffers from no lack of female company in this household.”

Gallus didn’t look so certain, but he let the matter drop.

His rivalry with Carnifex, however, was not as easy to let go of. Even as the months wore on, the two of them couldn’t seem to let go of the deep-seated tension and competition that had marked their relationship for as long as they had known one another. Being members of the same ludus, they no longer competed against one another for the crowds, but within the training arena, it was another matter entirely. Phoenix watched each day as they brutally battered one another, two powerful men refusing to cede the upper hand.

On a few occasions, however, the battering went beyond mere combat training. Brawls weren’t uncommon among gladiators—they were basically an occupational hazard—but between Gallus and Carnifex, they had a tendency to turn ugly and to turn ugly fast.

Atticus greatly frowned upon disorder in his ludus, so whenever a fight broke out between two of his greatest champions, everyone else was quick to step in and stop it. Magnus, Pollux, Felix, Caius, even Titus, were always on call to tear the two of them apart when things got too vicious.

On a few occasions, when she’d been near at hand, even Phoenix had gotten involved. No matter what had happened, or who had done what to whom, she always gave Gallus her attention first.

“Sure, take his side, like you always do,” Carnifex spat one day, nursing what was sure to be a black eye.

She was startled by the heat in his voice. As much as he seemed to love tormenting her, his tone was always teasing and borderline playful. But today, it sounded like there was something akin to anger in it. Hands still resting on Gallus’ shoulders, she turned to look at him and didn’t fail to notice the way his jaw tightened when he looked back at her, his eyes flickering down to her hands and then flitting back up to her face. Something burned in those green eyes of his that she couldn’t quite name.

“Forget it,” he snapped, kicking aside his sword and shield as he pushed past the others and stormed back to his cell.

She cursed herself for not being able to get that encounter out of her head for days afterward. What had upset Carnifex so deeply? Why had he looked at her like that? And why did it seem that his eyes now followed her whenever she was around the ludus, especially when she was talking to Gallus?

He drove her mad. 

Truly. She must have been going mad. That was the only reason she could come up with to explain why such an infuriating, insufferable man as Carnifex the Gaul was taking up more and more space in her head. At night, when the other girls giggled about his smile, she couldn’t help but recall the way it had touched his eyes when he’d turned it on her after his training bout. When they whispered about his muscles, she couldn’t fail to remember the way the sun glistened off his slick skin as he trained, his muscles rippling as he hefted his sword and shield with an ease almost too great to be believed. And when they gossiped about his talents in bed, she burned with an ache that settled deep in the pit of her stomach, pooling between her thighs until she squeezed her eyes shut and forced her traitorous body to go to sleep.

This was Carnifex they were talking about. Cocky, selfish, arrogant Carnifex. She would not allow herself to become another one of his playthings.

Yet each time she was around him, she realized with horror, her defenses seemed to crumble more and more. One afternoon, while she was handing out water to the men, he even managed to coax a smile out of her.

“Look at that,” he whistled softly, taking a satisfied gulp of water. “I finally managed to make the Grecian goddess smile.”

She flushed at his words, mentally kicking herself for it all the while. “I am capable of it, you know,” she shot back, arching a dark eyebrow as she gazed up at him.

“Perhaps, but I’ve never seen it,” he returned evenly, his green eyes sparkling in the midday sun.

“Maybe that’s because you don’t do anything to make me smile,” she offered, rolling her shoulders back and standing up straighter.

He leaned in a little closer, his breath tickling her cheek as he whispered, “Until now.”

She couldn’t help it. She blushed. And he smiled.

Damn him.

He got under her skin and he knew it. He enjoyed it.

From that day on, the two of them danced around each other, sparring with words the same way he and Gallus sparred with swords. And though she would never admit it out loud, Phoenix enjoyed the challenge of matching wits with Carnifex. He kept her on her toes, always pushing back and eliciting her own competitive streak as she strove to outsmart him.

Whenever Pollux or Felix or Caius or Gallus shot them sideways glances, eyebrows raised or silent looks exchanged among them, she always scoffed and brushed it aside. There was absolutely nothing going on between her and Carnifex, and there never would be.

Or so she thought.

She hadn’t intended to be over at the ludus that afternoon, too busy helping to prepare the household for a banquet that Atticus and Aurelia would be hosting in a few days time, but Titus was currently tending to Atticus’ ailing mother and had asked her to look to any injuries the men sustained during their training bouts.

As she approached the small arena where Gallus and Carnifex were training, she could feel the tension pouring off them in waves. They were both sweating and grunting, looking the worse for wear but unwilling to yield or admit defeat.

“Give it up, Gallus,” Carnifex growled through gritted teeth, bringing his sword down sharply against Gallus’ shield. “One of these days, that good fortune of yours is going to run out.”

“Maybe so,” Gallus snarled in return, lunging at Carnifex and aiming his sword at his exposed side. The other man quickly parried, jumping back to avoid the disastrous blow. “But not today.”

Phoenix felt her heart squeeze inside her chest as she watched the two of them go at it, viciously swiping and pouncing at each other. She noticed, with a stab of fear, the way that Gallus was starting to slow down, his breathing growing more labored as he tired out.

Carnifex noticed it, too. Not failing to take this rare opportunity, he lunged forward and expertly knocked Gallus’ sword from his hand, kicking it across the sand so that he would be unable to retrieve it. Smirking, he held his own sword up and aimed it at Gallus’ throat.

Chest heaving, Gallus just stared down his opponent, his shield still strapped to his arm as he realized that there was no way out.

“And so Carnifex the Gaul bests the Barbarian from Britannia,” Carnifex crowed triumphantly, slowly edging closer. He threw his sword and shield down, as they always did at the end of their training matches. “Looks like Rome will get to cheer for another dead Briton.”

Phoenix froze at his words, a feeling of dread sinking into her bones as she looked over at Gallus. Her friend’s eyes darkened in an instant, and she knew that in his mind’s eye, he was seeing his mother and father, and all of his people who had been slaughtered at the hands of Rome. She watched as something inside him twisted and snapped, and then he was on Carnifex in an instant.

“You son of a bitch!” Gallus roared, lunging at the other man and knocking him to the ground with a loud crash, quickly gaining the attention of everyone else on the training grounds, who immediately came running.

Carnifex made an admirable effort to fend off the blows, but Gallus was in another place altogether as he punched and kicked at his rival, landing one harsh hit after another on the other man’s exposed chest and legs.

“Get the fuck off me, you fucking barbarian!” Carnifex thundered, trying to hit back. It was difficult for him to do so, however, considering Gallus had him pinned to the ground. “Get off me!”

“Gallus! Stop!” Pollux exclaimed, he and Caius rushing forward to try to put an end to the violence. Even with the both of them pulling at him, however, Gallus wouldn’t be stopped.

His eyes had clouded over, and Phoenix knew he was in that place, that place deep inside his mind where he retreated during his fights in the Colosseum, when every decision and every move he made meant the difference between life and death.

But this wasn’t a matter of life and death. At least, not for Gallus. But if someone didn’t do something, it might be a matter of life and death for Carnifex.

“Gallus!” Phoenix shouted over the din of the restless crowd of gladiators, pushing them out of the way as she ran towards the fray. “Gallus!” she screamed again, louder this time, crouching down on the ground behind Carnifex’s head, right in front of him. “Stop!”

The sound of her voice seemed to penetrate that dark place inside him because as he looked up at her, blinking slowly, his fists came to a halt. Gasping for air, he gazed down at a bruised and blooded Carnifex, swallowing when he realized the magnitude of what he had done.

Everyone was silent as Gallus rose on unsteady feet, breathing hard and staring at his bloody knuckles. Phoenix saw shame wash over her friend, and she felt a stab of empathy for him, but she continued to kneel beside Carnifex as Gallus looked from the other gladiators, to her, to the man lying on the ground at his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly, turning away from all of them without another word as he stumbled towards his cell and slammed the door shut behind him.

“That damn savage,” Carnifex muttered angrily, slowly starting to sit up and wincing as he did so.

Instinctively, Phoenix reached out her hands to support his back, her eyes quickly scanning to assess for injuries, the way Titus had taught her.

Pollux, Caius, and Felix were quiet, even as the other gladiators began murmuring loudly among themselves, questioning aloud what had happened to set Gallus off so tremendously.

“Back to work!” Magnus shouted, corralling all of the less experienced men back to their training. “There’s nothing more for you to see here.”

“You’re hurt,” Phoenix muttered, running her hands over Carnifex’s tender and swollen flesh.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, tensing under her touch.

“You don’t know that,” Phoenix shot back sternly. “Gallus really did a number on you. I have to check you out and make sure you’re okay.”

Normally, she was sure he would have made some ridiculous comment in response to her words, but today, he just looked at her and frowned. “No,” he said flatly.

“Yes,” Phoenix told him stubbornly. Two could play at this game. Turning to her friends, she said, “Felix, Caius, can you help me get him to his cell?”

As they stepped forward, however, Carnifex held up a hand and slowly rose to his feet on his own. “I’m not an invalid. I can get there myself.”

“If you see Titus, let him know what happened,” Phoenix called over her shoulder as she began walking with Carnifex, albeit a bit slowly, across the training grounds and towards his cell.

Once they were inside, Phoenix took charge. Tossing her dark braid over her shoulder, she closed the door behind them and ordered, “Sit,” pointing at his bed in the corner of the small room. She’d been in his cell countless times before, to serve him meals or tend to his wounds, but never by herself. She had never been more aware of that bed.

Carnifex frowned again, but did as she said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and spreading his large hands out on his thighs, trying not to think too much about the pain that was throbbing in his limbs.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him in a calm, cool voice, stepping closer to him and carefully examining the discolored marks that would soon be bruises all over his body. “And tell me the truth.”

Swallowing back the lie he’d been about to tell, Carnifex sighed quietly as his green eyes searched her face. “I’m in pain. Mostly in my shoulders and my side,” he admitted, although reluctantly. “I might say a lot of things about Gallus, but the man knows how to throw a proper punch,” he grimaced, wincing as Phoenix pressed down on a particularly tender spot on his chest.

“Sorry,” she murmured, trying to be more gentle as she prodded and poked at him. “You said your side? Here?” she asked, resting her hand on a spot midway down his body.

He shook his head, reaching up and placing his large, calloused hand over hers. “No. Here,” he clarified, taking her hand and moving it downwards, until it rested just above his hip.

Somehow the room, already quite small to begin with, seemed to grow much smaller as the air between them grew heavy.

Clearing her throat, Phoenix carefully ran her fingers over the spot he had indicated, feeling for any swollenness that would indicate an internal injury. Thankfully, she found none.

“Well, luck seems to be on your side,” she murmured, glancing up and realizing with a slight start that his face was much closer to hers than she had first thought. “No broken bones and no deep damage, from what I can tell, though I’ll make sure to let Titus know to check you out. You’ll just be sore and have some serious bruising, but nothing you’re not used to.”

He was quiet for a few moments, absorbing her words as he continued to stare at her. “Why are you helping me?” he finally questioned.

“What do you mean?” Phoenix asked, taken aback. “That’s what I do. It’s one of my jobs.”

“You know what I mean,” he said in a low voice, which made her lean in even closer to be able to hear him. “This isn’t an injury I sustained from training. It’s because of a stupid fight I got into with Gallus. And you always take Gallus’ side when we fight. So why are you here, and not with him?”

“Gallus will be fine,” Phoenix murmured. She didn’t want to point out the obvious, but he had fared much better in this fight than Carnifex had. “You were the one who bore the brunt of it.”

“Which was my fault, right? Because of what I said? I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, his green eyes boring into her brown ones.

Phoenix took a breath, trying to organize her jumbled thoughts. “What you said—it wasn’t kind, but Gallus shouldn’t have reacted the way he did. I know why he did, but he shouldn’t have. He could have really hurt you.”

“He would have, if you hadn’t stopped him,” Carnifex pointed out, his expression indecipherable. “He listens to you.”

“We’re friends,” Phoenix said, as if that explained everything. “But just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I can’t admit when he’s done something he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t have hurt you like that. But you shouldn’t have said what you said either. Gallus has known more pain than you can imagine.”

“I have known pain, too,” he replied sharply, a trace of bitterness creeping into his tone that she had never heard before.

“I know,” she whispered. “As have I. As have we all. You and Gallus have far more in common than you know, if you would just put aside this petty rivalry.”

Carnifex just waved his hand and turned his face away from her, staring at the wall.

Sighing, Phoenix went to take a step back, but suddenly Carnifex’s head was whipping back around again, his eyes trained on her.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, looking oddly bereft at the thought.

Her mouth felt dry as she looked back at him. “Is there some reason I should stay?”

He didn’t say anything in response to that, just wrapped his fingers lightly around her wrist and tugged her towards him until their chests were pressed flush together. Her breath caught in her throat as his gaze flickered down to her lips. And then he kissed her. With one hand still wrapped around her wrist and the other cradling the back of her head, he kissed her with a hunger and an urgency that she could feel radiating through her body.

But before she could even process exactly what was happening, and what it was making her feel, he pulled back and released her, eyes wide. “I shouldn’t have done that. I—”

She cut off his excuses as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, her fingers raking through his hair, the hair that reminded her of the sandy beaches of home. It took only a second before she felt his arms snaking around her waist, holding her tightly as their mouths melded together, desperate for a taste of the other.

As the kiss deepened, he reached up and buried his fingers in her thick braid, tugging fiercely at it until her beautiful dark hair came loose, cascading down her back. She let out a soft moan at the feel of it, and that sound alone seemed to unlock something feral in them both.

Rising from his bed, Carnifex wrapped his arms more tightly around her small body, pressing her to his chest as the two of them stumbled backwards in a lust-fueled frenzy, grasping at each other as they fell back against the wall on the other side of the room. Another moan of pleasure slipped from Phoenix’s lips as she felt the rough stone against her back, Carnifex’s thick fingers buried in her hair as his kisses began trailing from her lips, across her jaw, and down her neck.

“Phoenix,” Carnifex gasped, peppering her skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses. “Oh, Phoenix,” he groaned, running his hands up and down her body as she gripped his hair and brought his lips crashing back down onto hers. “Been dying to taste you for so long,” he panted against her mouth, nipping at her chin as she angled her face upwards.

“And?” Phoenix murmured, her brain fuzzy with wanting as she trailed a hand down his naked chest. “Was it worth the wait?”

He chuckled despite himself, despite the circumstances. “Yes,” he nodded, lifting a hand to her face and brushing his thumb over her lips. “Most definitely yes. Need to taste more of you,” he moaned, latching onto her throat and sucking softly.

“More,” Phoenix echoed breathlessly, her eyes fluttering as her entire body pulsated with desire. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this was crazy. She should leave before they crossed any more boundaries than they already had. But though the rational part of her knew that that was what would be best, she couldn’t force herself to do it. She couldn’t force herself to leave.

“More,” Carnifex whispered, his mouth covering hers as his hands slid up and began gently massaging her breasts through her thin tunic. He kneaded and caressed until her nipples hardened to sharp buds, standing out distinctly against the fabric that covered her. Pulling back just enough to look down and meet her eyes, he raised his eyebrows in silent question.

“Yes,” she moaned in reply, nodding her head slowly. “Yes.”

In an instant, his hands were on the knots at her shoulders, untying them with deft fingers, while she quickly discarded the cord around her waist. With just a gentle push, he sent her tunic pooling to the floor at her feet.

Naked and exposed, she stood before him and watched as he took the full measure of her. His eyes glowed with appreciation and she felt herself grow flushed under his scrutiny.

“You really are a goddess,” he whispered hoarsely, reaching up to cup her bare breasts in his hands. A shiver ran down her spine as he brushed his thumbs over her aching nipples. Eyes still on her, he lowered down slightly so that he could take one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the bud as he hummed softly.

Her breath hitched in pleasure and she reached up to rest one hand on the back of his head, her other bracing against his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut as he continued to suckle gently, releasing her breast with a wet pop before moving to the other one. He repeated the process once more, eliciting soft mewls of arousal from her. She could feel herself growing slick with desire for him, a fire kindling deep inside her belly.

Grasping her hips in both hands, Carnifex slowly lowered down to his knees, kissing his way down her stomach and nipping lightly at her smooth skin. She hoped he couldn’t feel the way she trembled beneath his touch, the way her entire body quivered with delight at every kiss.

When she felt his hot breath between her legs, her hips bucked slightly and she let out a strangled gasp, immediately opening her eyes and looking downwards.

“Carnifex, what are you—?”

“Sh,” he murmured, pressing lazy kisses to the front of her thighs. “I wanted to taste you, remember?”

At any other time, she would have been mortified by the moan that escaped her lips at his words, but at that moment, she was too far gone to care. Reaching down and burying her fingers in his hair, she let out a short gasp of surprise when he lifted one of her legs and draped it over his shoulder, supporting her with a hand still on her waist.

“I’ve got you,” he winked, turning his head and smothering her inner thigh with slow, sensual kisses that already had her seeing stars. How would she possibly survive what else he had in store? Heart pounding inside her chest, she watched as his kisses began to trail inward, closer and closer to her center, to the place where her body was crying out with need for him.

When he finally reached the thatch of dark curls between her legs, he reached up with an almost breathless reverence and parted her with his fingers, prompting a small cry to fall from her lips. “Fuck, look at you,” he said quietly, almost to himself, as he slowly trailed a finger downwards. “Already so wet for me.”

“No games,” she gasped out, fighting the urge to press his face between her thighs. “Just….just…oh,” she moaned, her knees going weak when he began tracing the tip of his finger around the tiny bud at her center, the one that made it hard to think or move or breathe when he was touching it like that.

“Just what?” he asked, looking up at her with faux innocence as he pressed a kiss between her legs. “Hm?”

“Just keep doing that,” Phoenix sighed, her head falling backward against the wall. She reached up to run her hands over her breasts, overwhelmed by the sensations suddenly overtaking her body.

“Whatever you say,” he smirked, suddenly leaning forward and diving facefirst, his tongue tracing a trail up and down her soaked opening. Spurred on by her cries of pleasure, he wrapped his lips around her bud and sucked, feeling a surge of triumph when she began tugging on his hair and babbling out his name. Feeling that she was close, he gripped her thigh more tightly and teased her entrance with two fingers, coating them with her slick before slowly easing them inside her tight walls.

“Carnifex!” Phoenix practically screamed, biting down roughly on her lower lip to keep from being overheard. She felt so full, his large fingers stroking her walls as his tongue worked over the source of the most exquisite pleasure she had ever experienced. Unable to stop herself, she pressed her hand against the back of his head and began grinding herself against his face, chasing the high that he was giving her.

“That’s it. That’s my girl,” he praised her, lapping up her wetness like a starving man. “You’re so close, I can feel it. Just let go. Let go,” he encouraged her, squeezing her thigh and increasing the speed of his fingers.

“I—I—I’m—oh, oh, oh!” Phoenix gasped, the fire inside her belly building and building and building until it felt that surely she would be consumed by the flames. But she wasn’t. Instead, that burning sensation came to a feverish crescendo, and then suddenly there were white spots floating in her vision as her body rode out the waves of pleasure that crashed through her, making it impossible to catch her breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, do you know that?” Carnifex almost growled, rising and lifting her into his arms. She was glad for it, because she was suddenly certain she wouldn’t be able to stand on her own. He kissed her then, despite the fact that his mouth and chin were drenched with her nectar, and she found, surprisingly, that she wasn’t at all offended by the taste of herself on his lips.

He laid her down on his bed, and when she looked up at him, she could see his arousal clear as day in the front of the short tunic he wore wrapped around his waist. Sitting up on her knees, she crawled towards the edge of the bed and reached for his waistband, looking up into his eyes.

“Seems unfair that I should be the only one undressed here,” she told him, undoing his belt and pushing his tunic down to the floor, followed by the small cloth he wore for modesty while he was training.

He now stood before her, as naked as she was, and it was her turn to look him over with appreciation. She had known that he had a good body, of course, from watching him train and patching him up. And she’d heard from the girls in the slave quarters that his other assets were more than adequate as well. Apparently, for once, they hadn’t been exaggerating.

“Like what you see?” Carnifex asked with a small smirk, noting the way her eyes widened when she took in the size of his hardened length.

“Very much so,” Phoenix nodded, licking her lips as she felt her desire ratchet up once more. Not wanting to feed his already inflated ego too much, however, she quickly added, “But don’t let it go to your head, gladiator.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her smugly as he pressed her down onto his small bed, clearly designed with only one occupant in mind, and mounted her.

If her body wasn’t craving this forbidden pleasure so badly, she would have been more than happy to smack that self-satisfied look right off his face. But as it was, his lips landed on hers once more and she was able to concentrate on nothing beyond the feel of his bare skin pressed against hers.

Moaning softly into his mouth, she hooked one leg around his waist and buried her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as his fingers danced across her skin, tracing the contours of her body with a grip that was shockingly gentle, but which hinted at the power and strength that lay beneath the surface. She shivered at the thought of those rough hands, those hands that had ended the lives of so many nameless, faceless opponents, digging into her skin and marking her flesh—marking her as his.

His kisses were everything and nothing like she thought they would be, all at the same time. He kissed her with a bruising intensity, sucking and nipping at her lips as though he wanted her to know that she was his and his alone. Yet at the same time, his tongue was soothing and gentle, tracing the seam of her mouth with an almost painful tenderness. His kisses tasted sweeter than honey and finer than even the best wine their masters served at their fancy banquets.

If a girl wasn’t careful, she could get addicted to those kisses.

Groaning under his breath, Carnifex began muttering to himself as he ground his hips against her, his stiff, pulsing length burning her skin as it rubbed against her thigh. It took her a moment to become conscious of the fact that she didn’t understand the language he was speaking. It must have been the language of his people.

“What are you saying?” she asked, curious despite herself as their mingled pants and moans filled the air.

“Just how fucking crazy you make me,” he confessed, burying his face in the crook between her neck and her shoulder. As he began peppering her shoulder and collarbone with searing kisses, his hand slid down between their bodies, finding the apex of her pleasure once again and rubbing it slowly.

“I like it,” she whispered, running one hand over the planes of his handsome face, her back arching up off the bed as he stoked the fire inside her. “Your language.”

“The Romans find it savage,” he grunted, dipping a finger inside her while he nipped at her jaw.

“I’m not Roman,” she said firmly, spreading her legs wider beneath him and biting down on her lower lip as she felt that burning sensation filling her body all over again.

“No,” he replied, resting his forehead against hers, their noses bumping together as they stared into each other’s eyes. “You’re not.”

Wordlessly, Phoenix reached between their bodies and wrapped her hand around him, drawing a sharp hiss from deep inside his chest. She stroked him softly, feeling how rigid he was with need. Need for her. In that moment, he longed for her just as much as she longed for him. Something about that realization caused a chasm of yearning to open up inside her chest.

Still grasping him firmly in her hand, she drew him closer to her entrance and then released him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to kiss him once more. He hissed again, but this time it was in pain. Pulling back, she realized with a wince that she had pressed down on one of the tender spots from Gallus’ beating.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, heat rising to her cheeks. “Would you rather we didn’t—”

“Phoenix,” he cut her off, silencing her with a finger to her lips. “The gods themselves could not keep me from you right now.”

He smothered any further arguments she might have tried to make with a heated kiss, cradling her face in one hand as he lined himself up to her entrance with the other. For all their frenzied passion, he took his time about it, teasing her soaked folds with the tip of his length until she finally let out a small grunt of frustration.

“So impatient,” he smirked, slowly pushing himself into her, just an inch or so.

“Oh,” Phoenix moaned, fisting his roughspun blanket in her hands as he gripped her hips, watching himself sink further and further inside her, the both of them gasping at the sensation.

“Fuck,” he grunted once he was fully seated inside her, stilling his hips for a moment and just gazing down at her.

“Don’t stop now,” she told him in a breathless voice, reaching up to trail one hand down his chest and stomach. “Please.”

That little beg was all the encouragement he needed. Resting his hands on either side of her head, caging her within his grasp, he began to rock his hips against hers, her gasps and moans of ecstasy spurring him on until he was pistoning inside her, the sound of his naked body slapping against hers filling the small cell.

“Fuck, fuck, yes!” Phoenix cried out, her dark eyes screwing shut as she clung to him, her nails biting into the thickened flesh of his back, hardened from years of enduring the whip. “Yes, yes, yes, keep going!”

Grasping her jaw in one hand, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers, and told her, “Open your eyes. I want you to look at me. I want to see you when you fall apart for me.”

Her eyes flew open instantly at his words, her pupils blown wide with lust and desire as she gazed up at him, seeing the same feelings reflected in his green irises. She knew she must be close to falling over the edge once more, for she could feel that same all-consuming fire burning in her lower belly, causing her legs to tremble and her breathing to become more shallow.

“Carn—Carnifex,” she groaned, digging her nails into his shoulders while her hips continued to thrust upward, aligning herself with his unforgiving pace as he chased her to higher and higher heights of pleasures. Aphrodite herself would envy her, she was sure of it.

“I know, I know,” Carnifex panted, letting his body drop down on top of hers and pressing his face into her neck. “I can feel you. Oh, you’re so tight. Let go. I want to feel you let go,” he whispered, sucking at the pulse point just beneath her ear.

She was right on the edge, dancing dangerously close to the precipice of no return. Her skin burned with a white-hot fire that he had started inside her, a fire that only he could extinguish. Somewhere in the hazy back of her mind, she couldn’t believe she was here, couldn’t believe she was in the arms of this man who had been the bane of her existence since she first laid eyes on him. And yet, somehow being here also felt so right. Her body felt so alive, every part of her tingling with a newness and a vibrancy that she didn’t understand, but never wanted to let go of.

Tears pricking the corners of her eyes, she cupped his face in her hands and pulled him down to her as she fell apart, her entire body quaking as the flames engulfed her, consuming every part of her until she felt like nothing more than ash and bone. She lay back in exhaustion, her chest heaving and sweat dripping down her body, not a single coherent thought in her head.

She only became aware that he had pulled out of her when she felt a strange emptiness between her legs, a soft, unconscious whimper escaping her lips at the loss.

“I’m here,” Carnifex told her, groaning as he pumped himself above her. “I’m right here.” Sweat poured down his chest, his skin flushed and hot to the touch as he reached his own finish, his seed spilling forth and landing on her stomach. Spent, he collapsed down beside her with a low grunt, struggling to catch his breath just as she had.

They lay side by side like that for several minutes, neither of them saying anything. As they slowly came down from their high, the magnitude of what had just transpired between them sunk in and the air in the room shifted.

Carnifex suddenly reached for her, opening his mouth to speak. “Phoenix, I—”

“I have to go,” Phoenix told him quickly, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of his bed. “They’ll be wondering where I’ve gone. Aurelia is probably looking for me.”

“Phoenix,” Carnifex said again, gripping her arm and sitting up beside her. “Please don’t just—”

“I have to,” she insisted, hurrying to grab a rag in the corner of the room and clean herself up. Without looking at him, she combed her fingers through her tangled locks and, fast as lightning, rebraided her hair, reaching for her discarded tunic and pulling it over her head. She’d gotten used to preparing herself quickly over the years, and within a couple minutes she already had her tunic knotted at the shoulders and the cord wrapped around her waist like before.

Stepping towards the door, she knew she should have walked through it without a backwards glance, but she couldn’t do it. Freezing in place, she turned and looked over shoulder, meeting his eye. He was still sitting on the edge of his bed, watching her. He hadn’t moved to clean himself up or get dressed. His eyes were simply fixed on her.

“We shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t say that,” he rasped, what looked to be pain flashing in his eyes. But maybe it was just a trick of the light. “Please don’t say that.”

“I have to go, Carnifex,” Phoenix murmured, regret coloring her voice. But what it was she was regretting, she couldn’t be sure. Was it falling into bed with him? Or was it the fact that she had caused that wounded expression on his face?

He didn’t say anything in response, just stared at her with those big green eyes until she finally turned away from him and slipped out of his cell, shutting the door firmly behind her.

If only she could shut the door on what had happened between them so easily.

But even as the thought entered her mind, she knew it wasn’t true. She would never be able to erase what had just happened, and the reality was, she didn’t want to.

She had never meant to get tangled up with him, but now she had.

And there was no going back.

He had never meant to fall in love with her. He really hadn’t. Yet here he was.

He should have known from the moment he first laid eyes on her that she would be trouble. She was the most infuriating, difficult, stubborn woman he had ever met. She was also the most beautiful, with those big brown eyes and that dark hair that reminded him of the wings of the ravens that used to nest in his village back in Gaul.

She didn’t like him. He could tell that right from the start. Those pretty eyes of hers always narrowed whenever he was around, her mouth, with those lips that he wanted to taste more than anything, puckered like she had just eaten something sour. She was always by Gallus’ side, so no doubt he had poisoned her against him.

And yet, despite the obvious disdain she felt for him, he constantly found himself caught in her orbit, like a moth drawn to a flame. She might not have offered him smiles or flirtatious giggles like the other slave girls in the household, but he found that the more she pushed him away, the more he desired to be by her side. She might have been infuriating and difficult and stubborn, but she was also witty and cunning and sharp. Every time she lashed him with her tongue, or put him in his place with her quick words, he found himself even more enamored with her.

He ached with need for her, particularly in the moments when she tended his broken body with those skilled, agile hands of hers. Of course the old medicus had chosen her to be his assistant in the ludus. There was no one more capable or intelligent.

There was no one he wanted more.

But she loathed him. She made that clear whenever she was in his presence. And so he chased his pleasure elsewhere, sought to satiate that ache that rested deep within his bones by bedding every simpering slave girl who batted her eyelashes in his direction. They adored him, praised him, coddled him, and begged to be his forever.

But they weren’t her.

Even he had enough shame left within him to feel disgusted with himself on the nights when he closed his eyes and pretended that the girl twisting and moaning beneath him was her. He’d turn his back when he was finished, disappointed when he opened his eyes to find it wasn’t her, and ashamed of himself for thinking it could ever be otherwise.

They never seemed to mind, the endless stream of women who came to his bed. To them, it was enough to have been bedded, even once, by Carnifex the Gaul. That was all he was to them. That was all he was to just about everybody.

He wanted to be more. He wanted to be more to her.

He hated himself for feeling the way that he did. Feelings like this, especially for a woman who couldn’t even stand the sight of him, were dangerous. Love made men weak, and he couldn’t afford to be weak, not when his very life depended on being the best of the best in the arena.

She was a distraction.

She was a stumbling block.

She was a thorn in his side.

She was everything he had ever wanted.

And just when he had been convinced that she was everything he would never have, somehow, by some miraculous intervention of the gods, she had ended up in his arms. In his bed. And for the first time, he didn’t have to close his eyes and pretend, imagining what her body would feel like or what her lips would taste like.

She was real.

She was there.

She was his.

At least, for that brief moment in time. But it wasn’t enough. No amount of time with her would ever be enough, not unless it was eternity.

She dodged him for days afterward, pointedly avoiding his gaze whenever she was working around the ludus, and conveniently finding ways to get around having to tend to his injuries after his training sessions.

It drove him mad.

She drove him mad.

Finally, just when he thought he couldn’t possibly stand it any longer, he managed to catch her while she was on her own, leaving the bathhouse after delivering fresh linens.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he demanded, cutting straight to the chase as he snagged her around the waist and tugged her into a private alcove.

She looked startled, uneasy, her dark eyes shifting nervously back and forth, as if expecting some hidden figure to jump from the shadows. Not wanting to cause her such anxiety, he let go of her waist, but continued to stand in front of her, blocking her exit for the time being.

“I haven’t,” she lied, shifting back and forth as she blatantly refused to meet his eye. Even she couldn’t possibly believe the words that had just come out of her mouth.

“Phoenix,” Carnifex breathed out, leaning in closer, the tip of his nose bumping against hers as he angled his head downward. He knew the longing was evident in his voice, but he didn’t care.

“Carnifex, we shouldn’t,” she told him in a hushed voice, her breath catching in her throat as he reached up to cup her jaw, his rough thumb brushing against her skin.

“But we did,” he countered, his lips hovering above hers, waiting for her to push him away. When she didn’t, he closed the gap between them, slotting his mouth over hers and kissing her slowly, gently.

“This is foolish,” she rasped when they finally broke apart, her dark eyes turned upward to meet his gaze. “Someone could see.”

“So let them see,” he insisted, cradling her face in his hands and leaning in to kiss her again.

“No,” Phoenix shook her head in frustration, pushing him back. “No, it’s a terrible idea.”

“I want you,” he confessed, keeping a distance between them so as not to upset her further. What he felt for her went so much deeper than mere wanting, but he knew he couldn’t tell her that. Still, he had to try to make her understand. “And I know you want me, too.”

He counted it a victory that she didn’t deny his words outright.

“What does that matter?” she snapped, crossing her arms firmly over her chest and turning her head to look away from him.

“It matters,” he said firmly, taking one small step closer to her. “It matters because Rome has taken everything from us for her own pleasure. We deserve a little pleasure of our own, don’t you think?” he murmured, running one finger down her bare arm. He didn’t fail to notice the way it made her shiver, though she tried to mask it. Resting one hand on the wall behind her head, he ducked his head low and whispered against her ear, “I know I gave you pleasure.”

“What do you want from me, Carnifex?” Phoenix demanded, something catching in her voice as she tilted her head to look at him. It was the first time he had ever caught that look in her eye, that hint of sadness and brokenness that he had seen in the faces of so many others. He didn’t want to see it in her.

“I want you. Just you and nothing else,” he said simply, twisting a loose lock of her dark hair around his finger. “Whenever you’re able, come to me. Let’s find what pleasure we can, in whatever time the gods may grant us.”

“I won’t be your whore,” she told him sharply, recoiling from his touch. “I’m not your plaything that you can command to come and go.”

“Don’t you ever call yourself that,” he retorted, his voice just as sharp, his green eyes flashing. “You are not…I would never…” He took a breath, trying to collect his thoughts. “You’re free to come and go as you wish, whenever it pleases you. I would not hold you to anything.”

Phoenix swallowed, gazing downward for a moment as she seemed to contemplate his proposition. After several beats of silence, she lifted her head and raised one dark eyebrow. “It would be for pleasure and nothing more?”

By the gods, how he wanted so much more with her. But how could he ever expect that, with the lives they led? So swallowing past the lump in his throat, he merely nodded. “For pleasure and nothing more.”

She was quiet again, but this time she kept her eyes on him as she cocked her head to the side, thinking. Finally, she spoke.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” he repeated, eyes widening slightly. He was shocked she had actually agreed.

“But don’t expect me to always be available at your beck and call, gladiator,” she insisted firmly, poking him in the chest. “It’ll be when I’m good and ready.”

Carnifex couldn’t help but smirk at her words, a satisfied expression slipping onto his face. “How about tonight?”

“We’ll see.”

But she did come to him that night. And for many more nights that week. And then the week after that. And the next one after that, until eventually months had passed.

“We can’t tell anyone about this,” she panted one night as she rode atop him, her nails digging into his chest as he lay with his hands behind his head and admired her beauty. “It’s safer that way. For everyone.”

He knew she was right, but that didn’t mean from time to time he desperately wanted to shout from the rooftops that the most beautiful woman in all of the Roman Empire spent the majority of her evenings in his bed.

Especially when the others questioned him about the scratches on his back or the love bites on his chest.

“You need to keep it down at night, my friend,” Caius complained during one morning training session. He had the misfortune, as he often called it, of occupying the cell directly next to Carnifex’s. “Some of us actually try to get some sleep. Who was that girl you had in there last night anyway? The two of you could have woken the dead.”

Carnifex just smirked in response, though his eyes couldn’t help but slip towards Phoenix, who was hanging freshly washed tunics just a few feet away. He could tell from the ruddiness of her complexion that she had heard Caius loud and clear.

She made sure to keep her voice down that night, much to his amusement.

He loved each and every moment that she spent in his arms, but he hated what came afterwards. Even after months of their secret arrangement, she still refused to stay with him during the night, always grabbing her tunic and fleeing his cell as soon as the deed was done.

“Why won’t you stay with me?” he asked her one night, her body still pinned beneath his as he pressed lazy kisses to her neck and shoulder.

“You know I can’t,” she replied, matter-of-factly. “I can’t be caught in here with you, and it would be too suspicious if I spent the whole night away from the slave quarters.”

Damn her and her rational mind.

“Then stay with me just a little while,” he insisted, pecking the corner of her mouth. “Don’t run off as soon as it’s over.”

“Why?” she asked quietly, running her fingers through his hair absent-mindedly. He loved it when she did that.

Knowing he couldn’t give her an answer that wouldn’t scare her off and send her running for the hills, he simply shrugged, allowing that smug, overly confident mask to slip into place. “You help keep the bed warm.”

She seemed aggravated by his response, but he noticed that after that night, she wasn’t as quick to get up and go, sometimes lingering for up to an hour or more after they finished.

Tonight, she seemed more exhausted than usual, curling up against his chest and closing her eyes as he traced his fingers up and down her spine, enjoying the feel of her heart beating in tandem with his.

“You seem tired,” he voiced his observation out loud, glancing down at her and brushing some of her dark hair out of her face.

“I am,” she admitted, fighting back a yawn as she swirled her finger around his chest in lazy patterns. “Aurelia’s been working us like dogs lately. Except, I think she might actually treat dogs better than she treats us. Stupid bitch,” she muttered darkly, her hand stilling as her body tensed with resentment.

“Hey,” he murmured, nudging her gently until she looked up at him. His brow furrowed in concern, noting the dark circles under her eyes. He should have been paying more attention. How had he failed to notice them? He knew there was no love lost between Phoenix and their domina, but her voice held a particular trace of venom this evening. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“It’s nothing,” she deflected quickly, then let out a heavy sigh. “It’s just…she treats Sabina so badly. And it makes me so angry. She’s the last person on earth who deserves it, and I just want to be able to protect her.”

Carnifex hadn’t failed to notice how much you had come to mean to Phoenix since your arrival in the household a few months prior. He had never seen Phoenix interact with any of the other slave girls until you came along, and now you two seemed as close as sisters. And though he didn’t yet know you very well, from all the interactions he’d had with you thus far, he could at least say that he understood the impulse to look out for you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured sincerely, stroking her back with a comforting hand. “I know how much Sabina means to you, and how much you already can’t stand Aurelia to begin with,” he added with a grimace. Was there anybody in the household who could stand Aurelia? He doubted even Atticus could.

Phoenix sighed again, rubbing at her eyes and sitting up slowly. “Speaking of Sabina, I should get going before she starts to worry. I promised her I wouldn’t be gone long.”

“Where does she think you go at night?” he asked curiously, reluctant to let her go.

Though their tryst had started before you had even entered the household, and though you and Phoenix had become as thick as thieves since your arrival, she maintained that she didn’t want to burden you with the responsibility of knowing what was going on between her and the infamous Gallic gladiator.

“It’s better that no one knows, Carnifex,” she often told him, whenever he insinuated that their closest friends might be piecing things together. “That way they won’t have to be responsible for lying for us, if it comes to that. Besides, it’s just sex, right? Why does anyone need to know?”

He pretended that those words didn’t cut him to the core.

Sitting up in his bed, Phoenix twisted her dark hair into a loose knot at the nape of her neck and glanced down at him. “Sabina is a smart girl. She doesn’t ask too many questions. And she knows I help Hrodebert with the accounts sometimes. I just let her believe that’s where I’m going,” she explained. “But I know she worries about me, and that it’s hard for her to sleep until I get back, so I have to go.”

“Gallus cares for her,” Carnifex said suddenly. He wasn’t sure why he said it, to be honest. It wasn’t his business, and Gallus’ love life was none of his concern, but perhaps he hoped it would keep Phoenix in his arms just a few moments longer.

She stilled at his words, leaning back for a moment as he draped an arm around her shoulders. “What makes you say so?” she asked, arching an eyebrow as she looked over at him.

“Is having eyes in my head not good enough?” he chuckled, running his hand up and down her bare side. “His eyes follow her everywhere she goes, at least whenever she’s in the ludus. Though I’m sure he wishes he could watch over her in the villa as well. He already made us promise that we’d ensure no harm comes to her.”

“He asked Hrodebert and I to do the same,” Phoenix nodded, recalling the worry that brimmed in her old friend’s eyes when he’d made the request. “I have to say, I’ve known Gallus a long time and I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s like she’s unlocked something inside him. He’s quite attached to her.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so concerned for another person before,” Carnifex agreed, though he frowned slightly as he looked at her. “Except maybe you.” His voice was edged with jealousy as he spoke the words aloud.

As if he hadn’t disliked Gallus, his old rival, enough when he’d first arrived at the ludus, he’d been even more frustrated to see the bond that he and Phoenix shared, a closeness that he could only dream of having with her.

“There’s nothing between me and Gallus,” she told him firmly, placing a hand on the center of his chest as she looked deeply into his eyes. “Nothing except the love borne between a brother and sister, between two people who have survived the worst together. We’ve known each other a long time and we look out for one another, Carnifex. That is all.”

When he didn’t respond, just shifted his gaze moodily, she leaned forward and pressed a long, slow kiss to his lips. When she finally pulled back, she couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. “And as you’ve already so astutely pointed out, he seems to have eyes for no one but Sabina.”

Just as Carnifex only had eyes for Phoenix.

She frequently teased him about how the other girls grumbled in their quarters at night, complaining that he no longer called for any of them the way he used to. It hung unspoken in the air between them, the implication that he now only sought her company in his bed, and what that meant.

“I have to go,” Phoenix whispered, kissing him one last time as she slipped out of his bed and reached for her tunic. “Get some sleep. Magnus has been working you all extra hard lately.”

“Be careful,” he murmured, climbing out of bed as well and wrapping his tunic around his waist as he walked her to the door of his cell. Touching her cheek lightly, he couldn’t resist the urge to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I will,” she promised softly, squeezing his hand once before she was gone.

She took a piece of his heart with her, every time she left.

Tiptoeing on quiet feet, Phoenix checked her surroundings to make sure no one was in sight before slipping across the training grounds, trusting the darkness of the night to shield her from anyone who might have been observing from a distance.

Once she was beyond the gate of the ludus and within the confines of the main villa, she breathed a little easier, knowing she would be able to come up with a simple enough excuse should anyone catch her out of the slave quarters.

What she hadn’t been expecting, however, was for Hrodebert to suddenly appear before her, candle in hand as he stepped out of the office where he did most of his accounting work.

Gasping, she slapped a hand over mouth, her heart jumping into her throat as she stopped short in the hallway.

“Phoenix?” Hrodebert asked in surprise, lifting up his candle to better see her face. His eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion and from his rapid blinks, she could tell they must have been aching from hours spent reviewing numbers and accounts. “What are you doing out here?” he questioned, raising his candle further and glancing over her shoulder.

“Oh, nothing, I just needed to return some things to the kitchen before I went to sleep,” she fibbed, biting down on her lower lip. It would have been easy to lie to a random slave or steward. It was much harder to do so to Hrodebert, who had been one of her closest friends for years now.

“At this hour?” he countered, raising a skeptical eyebrow. He glanced over her shoulder once more, then lowered his voice significantly. “You wouldn’t be coming from the direction of the ludus, would you?”

Her heart sank like a stone inside her chest as her eyes widened. “How did you—?”

“We’ve known each other a long time, Phoenix. I know you better than you might think,” Hrodebert said softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But you need to be careful with him.”

Much to her surprise, Phoenix felt a surge of protectiveness course through her at her friend’s words. “He’s not as terrible as some people think he is, you know. He wouldn’t intentionally try to—”

“I’m not warning you about Carnifex,” Hrodebert interrupted, prompting another shocked look from her.

“I never said that it was—”

“You didn’t have to,” he told her, a small smile playing on his lips. “My eyesight might be poor, but I’m not completely blind, you know.”

She blushed deeply at his words, wondering if anyone else had figured out what she and Carnifex had been up to. “But if not Carnifex, who—?”

“Aurelia,” Hrodebert whispered in hushed tones, glancing over both his shoulders. “You know what she’ll do if she finds out he’s attached himself to you. You need to be very careful, Phoenix. Please.”

She could hear the worry in his voice, and it made her stomach drop.

“Don’t worry, Hrodebert. I’m always careful,” she assured him, reaching out to pat his arm. “Go get some sleep. I promise I’ll come help with the accounts tomorrow night.”

“Good night, Phoenix,” he nodded, heading in the opposite direction toward the male slave quarters.

A few moments later, when Phoenix finally laid back down beside you, thankful to find that you had already fallen asleep, she tried to shut her eyes and shake away the sense of foreboding that Hrodebert’s warning had cast upon her.

He was right, and she knew it. What Carnifex and her had, whatever it might be, was dangerous. She had known it from the start, and she had been foolish to allow herself to become complacent. She needed to talk to him, needed to let him know that her visits to his cell would have to become less frequent. They couldn’t run the risk of Aurelia finding out and ruining both their lives.

Months ago, Carnifex had told her that they should try to snatch moments of pleasure when they could, that they deserved it. But had she not been a prisoner of Rome long enough to know that that could never really be possible?

She and Carnifex stood no real chance at happiness, and she needed to accept that.

Fighting back the tears that suddenly threatened to engulf her, Phoenix wrapped her arms around you and fell into a fitful slumber, promising herself before sleep finally claimed her that she would do whatever she had to do to protect those she cared about most.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #hannix #hangman x phoenix #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #top gun #top gun: maverick #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

[gaoau]

yes, you do; you're an abominable sinner

theory of the two demons warnings — none word count — 3.7k

prev. — next.

childlike, joyful cackles ring through the hallway as [Name] makes their way to the training room. they're running slightly late and dreading the moment they step into the room to find Dazai pointing a gun at them again. they raise a brow at the unfamiliar laughter, growing louder and louder as they reach the door. they doubt Dazai has it in him to laugh so joyfully. the glowing bruise hugging their spine and shoulders aches with every little move they make, from turning the handle to closing the door behind them.

there's a young child expectantly gazing up at Dazai, who's broodingly leaning against the wall as per usual and doing his best to ignore the little pesky bundle of energy asking to play. exasperated, Dazai sighs in slight relief now that [Name] is here to take this brat off his back. but when he finds their eyes, exasperation morphs into amusement at the loud rage simmering in their scowl. he figured this was an expected reaction, particularly after memorizing their entire history off their files.

it feels like a million shards of broken glass stabbing and invading [Name]'s bloodstream, smoldering as they liquify to burn them from the inside out. tinted with an ugly shade of innocence, they gawk at Q, clearly no older than ten years old, a worn doll tucked between their arms and a bright grin as they press, "i can play with them now, Dazai-san?!"

he ignores the high-pitched call of his name in favor of smirking at his mentee. [Name] stares back at a hollow, bottomless pit of pure darkness. they can hear wails echoing from its depths. and they don't care—not about how desperate Dazai is to burst into tears or how many friends Chuuya has lost or how much murder has stained their palms. "is this who you wanted me to fight today?" they question in a low snarl. the only thing they care about is the fact that Q is still bright.

Dazai's smile is as weightless and feathery as every other day, though today it dances with a faint hint of mockery. "don't underestimate them; they're a walking catastrophe," he warns, soft voice of proper advice. Q bounces over to him, standing in front of him to curiously peer up at [Name]. "i have a few theories i'd like to test out. go on, Q." he gives the kid an encouraging shove, prompting them to start playing.

giggling bubbly to themself, Q approaches their new playmate with a beaming grin. [Name] can't stand the sight of such a young mirror living in the Port Mafia's clutches. they're cautious of the fragile smile organizations like the mafia enjoy wiping clean off the face of the earth. Q knocks their balled fist gently into [Name]'s stomach and they let their guard down in confusion for a moment. they glance up at Dazai before Q pulls their arm back. from underneath their oversized sleeves, blood drips onto the floor.

[Name]'s heart sinks. "hey, what the hell?" they ignore the ache of yesterday's bruises as they drop to their knees, reaching carefully towards Q. they're holding a glass shard, willingly letting its edges dig into their palm. as they laugh gleefully, [Name] tries to pry it out of their hand.

"get ready to use your ability on them," Dazai chimes in.

"huh?"

before [Name] can even hope to register what Dazai could possibly mean, Q takes it upon themself to rip their doll and activate Dogra Magra. [Name]'s vision blurs as they freeze, a dark handprint manifesting on their wrist. Dazai stays out of sight and out of reach in case they mistake him for a hostile hallucination. but the images flashing directly into their retinas have nothing with reigning demons or little angels, the pure and the tainted floating around them, the echoes of falling creatures drowning in ink. all [Name] sees is blinding lights reflecting from their bleeding palms. the same poisoned whisper plays in their ears like a broken record.

childlike laughter bounces off the walls, but [Name] can't hear it. their hands act on their own as they dig their nails into their forearms, ripping through their sleeves and tearing through the skin and drawing blood. i want to die, i want to die, i want to die, i need to die. what hasn't been completed or who hasn't been saved doesn't matter when selfish desire is much stronger than altruism. they crawl and stumble, reaching for shadows that don't exist.

they touch Q instead. as soon as their fingers come into contact with Q's ankle, the handprint vanishes; the hallucinations cease and they regain their senses. Q frowns—they've never had anyone but Dazai counter their ability.

children so young generally take longer to kill than usual, but [Name] doesn't try to harm Q past stealing a small amount of life from them. it's not life they take; an orange glow activates and vanishes within a second. they shrivel into themself, panting and gasping for air, cradling their torn arms to their chest. with blurry vision, they glare at the drops of blood and sweat dripping onto the ground, falling from their face and crying from their eyes. they gulp thickly, wiping the bloody tears off with trembling fingers. their nerves burn under their skin at the influx of energy.

a pondering hum resonates through the room. it takes them a little too long to realize it's Dazai. he's thinking. "do it again, Q."

[Name] gasps at the order, eyes wide in panic. Q doesn't hesitate to do as told. they grasp the glass shard tightly on their unharmed hand before pressing their fist against [Name]'s shoulder. they try to move away before Q gets hurt again, but they only manage to stumble backwards. this time, however, when Q rips their doll, nothing happens.

Q blinks curiously at this rather odd development. they glance up at Dazai in case he's willing to offer an explanation. as [Name] anticipates anything unreal to attack them with bated breath, Dazai counts. he waits.

a beat later, the dark handprint to identify Dogra Magra's curse resurfaces on their bloodied wrist. the orange glow manifests around them and makes them stronger. images and whispers that make [Name] claw at their skin relentlessly, deeper into their flesh so the blinding lights on the ceiling stop flickering so tauntingly. they thrash helplessly, reaching towards Q blindly. Dazai casts a glance at the broken doll. he's already proven both of his theories. he watches in silence as [Name] takes their sweet time in leeching the energy from Q's activated ability.

finally, their fingers brush against Q's face, leaving a smudge of blood on their cheek while they snap back to reality. the handprint fades away. on their hands and knees, they try blinking the blood away from their eyes. Q's slippers come into focus.

Dazai's voice echoes, "good," and [Name] wishes Dogra Magra would make them a haunting hallucination to disappear as well. "that's all i needed. maybe i'll ask Kouyou-san just to make sure…" he scans his bored gaze over his mentee as they gasp and pant to catch their breath. they might be in excruciating pain from the rivers of blood pouring from their arms, but it doesn't keep them from glaring at him so scornfully, so hateful. he hums, "[Name], clean yourself up. give Q a hand, too, while you're at it, yeah?"

both [Name] and Q watch as Dazai exits the room without as much as a single glance at the mess he's leaving behind. once the door closes behind him, [Name] exhales a heavy sigh of relief, letting their shoulders relax while they sit up on their knees. the ache on their forearms starts to slowly settle, burning on the surface of their open wounds. there's still a tingle on their fingers from when they stole Q's lifespan, but it doesn't seem to be as strong as it was with Chuuya.

still out of breath, they lick their dry lips as they gather their bearings. then they notice Q is silently staring at them. they'd been laughing nearly maniacally before, but now they're awfully quiet. their palms are slashed open and bleeding. they're still holding onto that damned glass shard.

"hey! hey!" they start, taking a step closer to [Name], "can we play? can we?"

[Name] looks at their bright, round eyes. they're a kid. they're just a kid. a young kid who shouldn't be here or in a lab or cutting themself up for other people's gain. (they're just a young kid who shouldn't be here, [Name] thinks, but these are thoughts that don't spare Q or whatever happened in history.) fate bleeds through [Name]'s soul, no matter how resistant and resilient they might be. it turns a fragile shade of agony and helplessness.

crawling closer, they try not to scowl at the walking catastrophe, because it's not their fault at all that [Name] is so angry. "are you okay, kiddo?" they steal the glass shard from them, using Mirror Mirage to crush it into dust without leaving any more scratches on themself. gently, they grab onto Q's wrists, shifting their hands to face up and assess the damage. it makes their blood boil. "these cuts are bad, we should clean them up."

"are we gonna play after?! please?" an excited glimmer lights up Q's eyes—a child's spark lights up the night.

although panting softly, [Name] manages the kindest of simpers, huffing a chuckle. "yeah, sure," they answer and an endearing grin blooms on Q's face instantly. "let's fix this first, though." they get back on their feet, motioning the little kid to follow them. (Q thinks they'll follow [Name] anywhere.)

"okay! i'm Kyuusaku!" they cheer, bouncing excitedly on the balls of their feet. their small fingers snake their way into [Name]'s hand, holding it tightly. their open wound burns and their blood mixes with [Name]'s. "come on, let's go play!" they tug and drag [Name] towards the infirmary; the faster they both get patched up, the sooner they can play, after all.

[Name] laughs to themself, letting Q lead the way. a voice in the back of their head says they should be concerned to know Q seems to be more than familiar with the route to the infirmary in this maze of a building. they ignore it when Q's overjoyed cackles ring through the hallways as they squeeze their hand in excitement. [Name] squeezes back.

Dazai Osamu doesn't believe in anything; not in life, not in death, not in good or evil. he believes humans are so weak they cannot live without a faith to rely on. he scans his eyes over [Name]'s files and finds their faith. it's not loyalty; Mori didn't save them from the ruins of an orphanage. he'd laugh if it wasn't so bitter. when he hands the updated documents to the boss, he glares at him with a gaze that demands confirmation to all his conclusions.

with a chuckle, Mori processes the latest development in Mirror Mirage's training. there seems to be a lot more to it than what those researchers managed to put together. as detailed as the information is, if they had known better than to miss crucial bits like this, they would have tried to keep this little tricky ability under even more surveillance. it's quite the powerful tool. countless organizations around the globe would love to get their hands on it.

"i'll be adding it after this, but," Dazai starts, making Mori hum as he looks up from the papers on his desk, "the nullifying effect lasts around fifteen seconds, which can be quite dangerous if used right. the only issue is that it seems to incapacitate them."

there's always a downside, of course. Mori doesn't expect perfection from anyone, not even from the demon prodigy glowering at him across his office. "they're a better investment than i originally thought, then," is the response he chooses with optimism. it makes Dazai's glare burn a bit stronger.

"you had your eye on them for a while," he states as if it were a matter of fact. it is a matter of fact; he knows this much from what he's gathered so far. mentoring [Name] isn't limited to using them as a punching bag.

Mori stares at Dazai with blank eyes. he takes a second to consider the million results that could come from this interaction depending on his answer. "i did meet them before you. seems they were worth it." he waits for a reaction on Dazai's face. he wonders how quick he is to put two and two together. it's been a year, after all.

"i am curious about that, Mori-san."

"what is it?"

"the attack on the orphanage, the organization we eliminated, the misinformation they acted on," he starts listing off occurrences with the help of his fingers. Dazai stares at Mori with a blank eye. "you know there's no such thing as coincidences on this side of the world."

letting the silence settle for a moment, Mori hums. then he grins. "you're right, Dazai-kun."

Dazai seems surprised for a second at the confession. "what if they find out?" he asks, knowing just how easy it'd be for [Name] to write Mori down on their hitlist. he asks because he can't yet put his finger on what it is this man is scheming.

"i'm not worried about that. they won't find out unless you tell them." Mori shrugs carefreely. he looks Dazai in the eye for a little longer, finding the questions he isn't pressing on. airily, he laughs, "i'll let them be the ace up your sleeve when you put a knife to my throat."

"no way," Dazai chuckles genuinely. he shakes his head, lips curling into an amused grin. "they'd never work with me to take your head—or to do anything, really. they'd rather die."

"well, that doesn't mean much coming from them. i won't be mad if they kill themself, but try your best to avoid it, will you?"

Dazai doesn't believe in anything. Dazai knows [Name] won't slice their own wrists anytime soon. whatever belief he has for them is a lie. "so you did know. is that why you left them to me?" even when knowing this, Mori believes he can save this kid and make him live cleanly, properly.

"i'd like to see where this goes."

the discussion ends there. putting another good word in for their mentee, Dazai relinquishes his position as a mentor. he leaves [Name] to train as an assassin under the one and only King of Assassins deep in the basement. Mori doesn't argue; he trusts Dazai will oversee [Name]'s progress until either one dies and he's making this decision because it's the most profitable. if used right, Mirror Mirage can be an unstoppable weapon. promptly after his report, Dazai exits the office.

Mori watches the door close behind him. he glances at the files on his desk, humming, "i hope it works out for you, Dazai-kun."

Yumeno Kyuusaku doesn't like their name anymore. they did at first, when it was only a cute, fun play gifted to them by the mafia. now that they've gone through hell at Dazai's hand—not to mention the hell that awaits—they hate it. they don't want it anymore. it hurts and they didn't ask for this.

jarring, agonized screams echo through the destroyed training room. blood-curling and nearly deafening, [Name] has never heard anyone wail at the top of their lungs with so much pain in their voice. they want to cover their ears from the horrifying noise. they can't, though; not when Q is clinging onto their shirt with balled fists, trembling in their arms and bawling so loudly. Q buries their face in [Name]'s chest, tear-stained cheeks and bleeding wounds making a mess on their clothes. they sob and shout and hiccup until their throat is sore.

even then, they don't stop. [Name] hugs them closer, wincing at the pain shooting through their body and drilling into their eardrums. they know how painful it is to be a tool for organizations bigger than they can comprehend. Q doesn't deserve this. not the training, the desensitization, the torture, the abuse—whatever name it might have, Q deserves none of this. they cry in the only comfort they can find, and [Name] wants to cry, too. they don't, though; not when it's the last thing Q needs right now.

[Name] can't tell if the blood covering them is theirs or Q's anymore, but they know the open cuts are on Q's arms. they should get those cleaned up sooner rather than later, but when [Name] makes a move to get off the floor, Q grips their shirt tighter. they refuse to let go.

sighing, [Name] listens to them sob and shout and curse, "i'll break him…! i'll break Dazai-san…!" they go in circles. they've been going in circles ever since Dazai (waving his hand dismissively, "do whatever you want.") walked out the door earlier. "i'll break him, i swear i will! i hate him! i'll break Dazai-san, i'll break him…!"

with a tone as gentle as they can muster without shattering, [Name] shushes them, "it's okay, kyuu-chan, i know." they run their fingers through Q's hair, matted with blood and sweat.

"i'll destroy him! i'll burn him down!" Q pounds their fist against [Name]'s chest. it's not [Name] whom they want to hurt, but they know no other outlet that doesn't involve glowing bruises and bleeding out.

"i get it, kyuu-chan. i wouldn't blame you if you destroyed the whole world. i bet you could, huh?"

"i don't want to! it hurts! i don't want this…!"

"i know, kyuu-chan, it's not you—"

"don't call me that!" they snap, pulling away abruptly. the open slashes on their arms burn as the coagulated blood pulls at their skin. [Name] stares at their face. cheeks burning a fierce red, eyes quivering and filled with tears that keep flowing; the face of a child, young and angry, throwing a tantrum over a toy their parents refuse to buy. a bruise on their temple and a scratch on their nose and dried blood on their forehead; the face of a weapon (a walking catastrophe), not a person.

[Name] recognizes this face. it's forever unfading in their mind, whenever they glanced at the mirror wall before going to bed. as Q wails grievances about their cursed name, [Name] can't ignore the lonely kid out of sight, chained up and awaiting death with open arms. they can't hear them and they can't see them, but they know they're there. they don't want Q to end up like that. they don't deserve that—not that [Name] did, either. so they listen.

Q doesn't like their name. [Name] thinks kyuu-chan is a cute nickname. Q hates being called Q or anything similar. it hurts and they didn't ask for any of this. not the hospital beds, the straps, the needles, the experiments, the pain. [Name] didn't ask for any of this. they empathize. Dazai is nothing but a nightmare. it all brings pain because of an ability no one ever wanted. the saying in the Port Mafia goes, the greatest misfortune for Dazai's enemies is that they are Dazai's enemies, but what about the poor fools under his wing?

"hey, hey, it's okay." [Name] holds Q's face to stop their rambling, gently cupping their cheeks and brushing the tears away. they leave a smudge of blood on their skin. they see Q's bottom lip tremble as they bite back their sobs. "i never caught your full name, you know?" and because they're a fool under Dazai's wing, they'll behave just like one, because do whatever you want isn't lenience, but a dare. [Name] knows not to touch what burns, but Q is getting burnt, too, unless they do whatever they want.

there's no such thing as rules here, but [Name] is breaking all of them. Q furrows their brows in a frown, eyes glazed over. for a moment, they don't understand what [Name] is asking. when they let go of their face, they settle down, crumbling against [Name]'s chest once more. they mumble quietly, "…Yumeno… Yumeno Kyuusaku…"

"yu-chan?"

(Dazai tells them, "don't," but they reach for the fire again.)

Q shakes their head. they don't like that, either.

[Name] hums in thought. "yume as in dream?" Q nods this time. "okay, let's see, then. yumekyuu? yumesaku… no, that's so bad, sorry." they hear a faint giggle, bursting through Q's bloodied lips. [Name] breathes easy knowing they're calming down, they're not hurting as much anymore, they're not burning. "menokyuu? yunome…? i'll work on it," they chuckle to themself. Q laughs with them.

it's not much. Q's arms are still littered with open cuts and they're still seething with anger. but they stop crying, sniffling as they nuzzle into [Name]'s filthy shirt, letting them rub their hand up and down their back soothingly. eventually, Q dozes off.

([Name] tells him, "shut up," but they know this pain and it'll never end.)

inside the infirmary, [Name] dismisses their right-hand, "good work today, namiyo-san." namiyo bows and exits, making sure not to disturb her boss after their intensive training with Verlaine.

they open the brown envelope that namiyo came to deliver and pull out a bundle of photographs. flipping through them, [Name] can't hold back the grin tugging at their lips. four kids, each in a different home, but fortunately loved and happy. maria, shion, kentarou, and yuu. they're doing fine now.

the battle isn't over yet.

#theory of the two demons #bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #yumeno kyusaku #Q #q i love you q #bsd q #mori ougai

[artemiscrocksgf]

you vex me II (aemond targaryen x fem!reader)

this is part two, you can read the first one here or it can be read as a standalone but i recommend reading the first

pairing: aemond targaryen x velaryon fem!reader

warning: angst , pining, angst to smut, enemies to lovers ?? , incest (uncle/niece) it's hotd duh. explicit, minors dni 18+, NSWF

word count: 2.9K

high valyrian words are translated

The sky is fragile, the sun above the tumultuous cloud tops the only brightness that shines through. “Lykiri!” [calm]  you command in high valyrian,  the bellows of your dragon’s roar echoing through the dragonpit grounds. Like your mother and previous ancestors, you were trained to ride dragon back at the age of six, gifted with a hatchling from the pits of Dragonstone. Ysera your dragon, her wings emerald green like the precious stone she was named after, and her claws and crest scales bright as pearlescent jade. Ysera’s deep green scales glistened from the light mist that fell from the clouds. “Lykiri Ysera,” the dragon’s leathery wings sprawled open as you stroke her neck, while the dragon keepers prepare her saddle. 

“Princess, the weather has turned – you should ride on the morrow” the dragon keeper Elder advised, his hand clutching the shackles that tied around Ysera’s neck. You glance up at the sky hinted with silver black clouds that were gathering over Kings Landing. 

“On the contrary, it is perfect weather,” you insisted, taking a deep breath through your nose as you let the scent of the sea and the rain fill your nostrils. “It is only a little rainfall and the misty dew that melts into my skin – it is truly an experience like no other Elder,” you marveled. 

“I could not agree more,” a voice sharp as glass replies from behind you. 

You could recognize that voice anywhere, “Why did you not warn me Ysera?” you whispered to your dragon before turning to see the Prince behind you. Aemond was dressed in his usual black attire, his hands adorned with leather gloves – the corners of his mouth lifting into a smirk as he notices you eyeing him from head to toe. Neither one of you has discussed the kiss that happened last week — it would be lying to say your mind did not wander to that moment in the wee hours of the night. Your body shudders.

You clear your throat, “Is vexing me at the Keep not enough? You must now follow me around Kings Landing?” you jest, adjusting your black and red cladded riding armor. 

“Do not flatter yourself dear niece” Aemond’s shoulders bounce with a huff, as he lifts his hand to signal the dragon keepers to bring out Vhagar. “Perhaps Elder is right, you should not fly your … quaint dragon through this weather – much like her rider she is fragile,” he sneers. Ysera rumbles almost as if she understood his insults, you glare at him giving him the reaction he craved. You loathe admitting that you enjoyed the odd relationship you had with the Prince, built off hating one another. The hatred offered opportunities for blistering eye contact and tension that could be cut with his dagger. And despite the rage, he makes you feel you cannot help but think of him every second he is not with you. It infuriated you. 

“Remind me, Prince, what was the name of your first… dragon?” you taunted while mounting Ysera. “Pink… Ah, pink dread! Much like its rider, it is a pig,” you snicker. You catch a glimpse of the anger in Aemond’s eye before you commanded Ysera to soar, “Sōvēs,”. You grin smugly at the Prince before Ysera ascends into the clouds, prowling the skies in ever-widening circles. Fanned by the strong winds your unbound hair cascades with the breeze. Green crests flashed along Ysera’s back as her silver-green wings beat against the gray sky. The beating of her wings flew through the veil of clouds, the raindrops dampening you as she soars above the cloud tops to the hidden sun. The beauty that lived beyond the clouds was endless. You gently close your eyes as Ysera glides gracefully through the open sky, when her thundering roar breaks your peace, “Skoros iksos ziry issa hāedar” [What is it, my girl?]. 

Vhagar’s wings erupt from behind the clouds, her bellows booming in the vast sky, and on her back the one-eyed Prince hoisting her saddle reins. “Thank you for warning me,” you say to Ysera, petting the top of her head as she ascends further up. Soaring like eagles, stooping like hawks, they circled each other – creating a choreograph of intertwining wings. Vhagar vanished into a bank of clouds, only to reappear an instant later. In awe, you watch Aemond’s long hair streaming silver behind him as he circles above the clouds. Fuck. He is insufferable. Yet everything about him was intoxicating. 

“Naejot” [forward] you ordered,  Ysera launching herself up towards Aemond, her wings buffeting the air as she flew around the large dragon. The dark clouds began to rain, the drops hitting your face and dampening your hair. You close your eyes letting the rainfall take you. Aemond watched you as you rode through the clouds, the mist bathing you in a wet sheen. Aemond’s breath was sucked right out of him – he wasn’t self-delusional to mistake the tightening of his muscles as anything other than desire. Seven Hells. He detests you. And yet he found himself unable to keep his lengths from you. 

The torrent winds begin to pick up, the storm clouds rolling over the skies. The light mist was now a heavy downpour making it almost impossible to see ahead. “Princess?” you hear a shout in the sunless bank of clouds. He yells again, you notice a hint of concern in his voice.

 Ysera roars as cracks of lightning surround you, “Lykiri, LYKIRI,”

“It is time we descend,” his voice getting drained from the deafening thunder. A nervousness lingers underneath his outward demeanor. A sudden bolt of lightning shattered the veil of black. His gaze locked on yours.

“Scared Aemond?” 

“Jest all you want, but the cloudburst is coming and we need to take cover,” Aemond instructs, his hair completely drenched. “We are too far to make it back to the pit in time but we can make way to River Gate and wait out the clouds,”.

“I do not take orders from you,” scoffing, the rumbles of the thunder echo through your ears – the storm beginning to rage. Although you would never admit it aloud, Aemond was right. 

“God! Must you be so fucking stubborn?” his eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched. You stifle your laugh at his annoyance. You enjoy enraging him. 

“If we must,” you reply. Ysera’s iridescent scales glisten in the darkened and ominous sky, you tail Vhagar as the dragons make a descent to land, the rain whipping down like crystal nails. Your hair slicked from the rain, strands stuck on your face as you dismount off Ysera, “Umbās'' [wait]. The rain has lost the ambient temperature of early fall, freezing and paling your skin on contact. You look up at the molten silver sky, the dark swirls covering every inch of the sky casting a dark shadow. Aemond silently walks towards an isolated barn on the outskirts of the trees that line River Gate. You follow.

The barn is empty, and the musk of hay and pine devours your nostrils as soon as you step under the shelter. The rain continues to pour, the drops hitting the oak creating a drumming against the roof – So much rain was falling that the sound blurred into one long, whirring noise. Aemond has still not spoken a word to you since landing. Which made the confinement even worse, you would much rather have him hurl snide remarks at you than complete quietness. He sat silently not acknowledging you as he fidgeted with his dagger. You pace back and forth, unable to stand still as you wait for the rain to cease. 

“Would you stop your incessant walking,” Aemond says nonchalantly, his eye not meeting yours. His dagger danced between his slender fingers. 

“Oh he finally talks... I thought you were half blind and going mute”

“This rain will not pass any time soon and I do not want to be here anymore than you do” his voice low. You drove Aemond crazy in more ways than one, being stuck in this barn with you was a nightmare – not only because you infuriate him like no other but because he could not keep pretending he did not desire you. Crave you. 

Ever since that goddamn kiss.

You exhale through your nose as you take off your leather gloves, planting yourself on a hay barrow. You take your leather boots off, the sound of the material squelching. 

“What are you doing?” his voice raises as he cocks his head at you. 

“I would much prefer not dying from cold fever,” you remark, wringing out your drenched hair. “Although it does sound better than being here…” you mumble under your breath. You assumed Aemond heard you when you saw his head shake, the corners of his mouth quirking into a small smile. You lower your eyes as Aemond stands up, turning his slender back to you as he unbuttons his black outer coat. It was improper of you to stare as his soaked cotton undershirt clung to his wet body – outlining his lean shoulders perfectly. 

Seven Hells.

You clear your throat as you feel a warm heat gathering in your cheeks, you unbutton your armored gown – your drenched undergown beginning to make you itch. Your hands reach around to the clasp by the nape of your neck. You mentally cuss your handmaidens as your fingers struggle to unclasp the button on your own. Your body jolts and his warm fingers slide down the back of your neck to the tender skin – unbuttoning your gown. “Here,” his raspy voice whispers into your ear as the gown drops to the ground. 

“I did not need your assistance,” you say but your words end up breathy and weak. You turn to face him. He was close to you, you could feel the heat of his body and smell the dragon scent of him. It sent a trickle of shivers straight through you. You wholeheartedly disliked the Prince and yet you had the most absurd inclination to lean forward until the space between your bodies was squeezed into nothingness.

His eye lowers down to your mouth, that mouth that vexes him to no end with an endless stream of insults and snide comments. Despite all that, all he could think about were your lips on his. “Is that so?” 

He lifts his hands brushing your wet hair away from your face, his fingers lingering by your cheek. The heat of his body seeped through your thin gown, he was so close you couldn’t tell where his breath ended and yours began. Aemond was going to stop right there and leave you bothered and breathless, to teach you a lesson but when there was barely an inch between your bodies, the pull grew too strong. Your breath quickens, your mind telling you to pull away but your body says otherwise. 

“Mmhmm,” is all you could manage to say, his fingertips trailing along your cheek – torturing you. Suddenly his hands cupped the back of your head as his lips took yours in an explosion of desire and hatred. You moan against his mouth, taking advantage of your parted lips, Aemond slides his tongue between them. His hands still cupping the back of your head, he grabs a fistful of your damp hair pulling it back. Your head tilts back, exposing your neck – his eye darkens as his lips leave yours to taste the slightly salty skin of your neck. 

Aemond pulls your hair a little harder, “You should learn to bite that tongue of yours…” His free hand grips your breast through the fabric. The pads of his fingertips rolling over your nipple. You suck in a shaky breath when he catches the bud between his forefinger and thumb, tweaking it sharply. Aemond releases your hair, the pressure of his grip still lingering. You could feel his stiff cock pressed against your body. 

“Only when you learn to bite yours,” you tease, sliding your hand down his wet undershirt and over his trousers to palm at his cock. A sweet groan escapes his lips when you softly squeeze him. He abruptly stops your hand, lowering your back onto the damp ground. This moment could be stretched and savored, but when were things with Aemond ever savory. His hands tugged the rope on the thin fabric that covered your body with enough force to nearly tear the gown. Aemond grapples at his shirt, pulling the wet fabric over his head. Your core is already searing with heat as he lets his eye caress your exposed body, something so simple but so seductive. The gaze was heavy with lust. God. You want to feel him. Taste him. Fuck him.

Aemond lowers himself between your legs, his tongue darts over his lower lip hungrily. He pushes your thighs apart, gripping them down firmly – his other hand trailing above your center. “Still do not need my assistance, my love?” he murmurs. He smirks seeing the wetness of your core. You curse when you feel his thumb and forefinger softly part your soaking folds, circling your clit and down to rub your dripping entrance. They gently tease your clit, smearing your wetness around but not enough to give you the desire you crave. You bite back a groan as your hips grind into his fingers. You tense as the tips of his fingers press at your entrance, his slender digits slipping in all the way. He drew them back out, slick with your wetness – a roguish grin across his face as he thrust them back in, easing into a steady pace that makes everything ache with desire. 

His hand dipped further into your cunt, sending a sharp edge of ecstasy through your core and down your spine. Aemond presses two fingers into your entrance, your walls clenching around his fingers as he thrusts roughly into your wet folds. Your body seizes up tight when all of a sudden he abruptly removes his hand from your soaking cunt. Leaving you on the edge of burning waves, a needy moan tears almost painfully from you. 

“Tell me you need me,” he commands. Fucking Bastard. “Say it,” his fingers return to your throbbing core teasing the folds of your swollen lips but not enough to satisfy you. Fuck he’s going to be the death of you. Aemond’s fingers teased your clit, making you breathless as you begged. He knew even if you had not said it that the desire was mutual. 

“Please Aemond,” you whine desperately, with a pleased grin, Aemond jolts his fingers back into you. His fingers curling into your cunt, nerves rubbed raw and still throbbing – deep inside your core, his finger brushes against the rough spot of nerves against your walls. Tilting his fingers into your cunt faster, you feel your muscles tense as the orgasm violently spills over. His free hand wraps around your thigh to hold you down, as he twists his fingers inside you. It’s all too much too quickly. Your ears ring, and waves of pleasure cascade through every nerve in your body. Your core pulses around Aemond’s fingers, eyes slamming shut until you shatter onto him – your mind folds as your orgasm cracks. You whine and push his hand because he’s still going, your clit burning from overstimulation. 

“That is how you make me feel when you vex me,” he grunts, his hands now snaking their way to your neck. His grip tightens as he lowers himself to your lips, his mouth descends onto yours – his kiss hungry and full of lust. His hands worked the drawstrings of his trousers. 

“Perhaps you need assistance,” you remark. His hands push down his black trousers, the thick swell of his cock throbs. There’s a wet smear as the head of his cock runs through your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. With little warning, Aemond’s full-length slams into you with a devastating force – you moan into his shoulder as his angular face nest into your neck. You’ll feel him for days afterward as your walls clench inch after inch, a dull ache settling deep inside you. The rhythm of his hips is hard. Fast. Merciless. Aemond buries himself into your core, each stroke as rough and feral as the last. Your fingers tangle his silver hair, your nails raking down his back – leaving raised lines in his pale skin. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. Aemond firmly grips your jaw, sliding his thumb past your lips – your tongue brushes over his finger. You pull his lips towards you, molding your mouth to his as your soft wet kisses morph into pricks of his teeth. His gaze locked on yours, as his length goes in you – you pull his head down once more you gently place kisses around his scar. His eye flutter shuts with every touch.

His thrust boils the shimming heat gathering in the pit of your core, electric heat blazing through each and every nerve. Your muscles tighten around him, making his cock throb as his thrusts create violent slaps. Aemond couldn’t hold back any longer. Hot spurts flood your insides, his eye squeezing shut as he buries his face into your shoulder. You clutch him tightly against your chest while he fills you. 

He eventually pulls away, his gaze taking in every inch of your bare skin. With a cocky grin on his face, you knew he wouldn’t let this down. But neither would you. You knew he desired you as much as you desired him. 

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x y/n #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond targaryen x targaryen reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond Targaryen x velaryon reader

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 24

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: descriptions of mutilation, slight torture, body horror

Summary: the Batfamily interrogates their prisoner and he leads them to a horrifying sight and you are done with everything, including Jason

Dick and Bruce strung the Professor Pyg knock off in a corner room off the garage on a chain, facing the wall so he couldn’t identify where he was at. They were going to take him to the GCPD but wanted to ask their own questions first, so they used the chain from the ceiling and secured his hands, searching him using a kind of x-ray gun based on Superman’s powers. He had a tracking device installed in his bicep, so Tim shorted it out using a less than kind electric shock. The man didn’t react. They tried to pull off the mask, but it didn’t move, it was sewn into his skin. Jason couldn’t lie, that was smart but gross. The bag Pyg had been carrying sat on a lab table near by being investigated by Dick and YN. The hearts of those at the bar were inside.

“Are you part of the group that has been committing the murders around the city aimed at Red Hood?” Batman asked. The man nodded. “Tell us everything you know, or this experience will be less pleasant than it already is.” There came a laugh from under the mask.

“I do not care about unpleasantness Bruce Wayne,” he said. The air seemed to go out of the room. Even though everyone was aware that this group knew who they were to hear one speak the name of Batman out loud was still a shock. It still made them freeze and look around, wondering who had let the secret out, whose fault it was that they were now targets, not their alter egos. “You may all remove your masks; we know all of you.”

“And who is we?” Batman asked, keeping his cowl in place. Pyg let out another laugh. This whole situation was apparently hilarious to the creature. Batman balled his fist and threw it, hitting him in the face. The mask sustained more damage, a tear showing just a hint of pallid skin beneath it. Other that a sharp exhale at the impact of the punch there was no other indication something happened. No grunt of pain, no increase of heartrate on Tim’s monitors, nothing. It was like he didn’t feel it.

“We are those who want to see how far we can push the Hood, we knew he was from the Wayne family, but we were very surprised to see that he was the long thought dead Jason Todd. What kind of man comes back from the dead? What does that do to the mind? The Doctor is very interested in what will make him break, especially now that his quest for the blood of his killer is complete. What else matters now? The children he wants to spare? The old friends he used to have before death? The new brother from after his return? Perhaps his new fiancé? Will see be the final piece to destroy him? The doctor is not so sure. He wants to talk to the Red Hood, really understand how he ticks,” the voice behind the mask said. Batman frowned.

“Where is this doctor? I’ll pay him a visit,” Jason said, getting tired of this guy’s attitude. He hated this dramatic monologue bullshit. The Pyg looked at him. “He wants to chat tell me where he is.”

“O you will not find him, he will find you when he wants. You cannot even enter his office only we few have the privilege. And he is always watching,” he said. Jason nodded and aimed a gun at the Pyg’s head.

“Always watching? Think whatever camera he’s watching from will work with a bullet in there?” he asked, snarling. Batman shot him a look.

“Red Hood, we’re not done with him,” he said. Jason snarled but put the gun away, turning to pace. He was starting to feel caged, the pit rage burning through his veins, dying to be released. He could feel himself starting to lose control. His eyes found YN like they always did in these situations, and she looked back at him. He watched her, seeing her slow her breathing, his matching it. He was burning still but it had dulled just a little at the sight of her face. It was enough for him to keep control of himself for now.

“He does have a transmitter in the mask, but if I short it out the shock will kill him,” Tim said, still looking at his tablet. Jason shrugged.

“Seems like a win-win to me,” he grumbled. Batman once again gave him a disapproving look, but Jason didn’t care. He was too angry to worry about Bruce’s moral code at the moment. When he got his hands on these guys they were dead, all of them.

“All this time this is taking, such a waste,” Pyg said. “I already decided to dieeeeeee,” he sang out, now swinging on the chain that held him up. “It’s slow and it’s burning me from the inside out, but it’s giving us time.”

“Time for what?” Dick asked, looking up from cataloging the heart evidence.

“The Wayne family isn’t the only family involved. There is also YN and her little family, the one she left alone and so very vulnerable. Do you think they need you now? Those you called your sisters?” Pyg asked. YN’s face paled. There was a laugh from behind the mask that started to sound like gurgling, then the Pyg fell silent.

“He’s dead,” Tim said. He started trying to track a feed location from the camera and dug the tracker out his bicep. “I’m going to fix this, see if I can get the last location from this too.”

“I need to go see if Jocelyn and Aura are alright,” YN said, face pale. She ran out of the room, getting into the McLaren and leaving before even Jason could catch up. He hopped on his bike and followed.

You ran up the stairs, the elevator seeming too slow. You approached the door and your breath hitched, seeing the door cracked just a little. It opened to a horror scene and everything in your world seemed to stop. There was a buzzing in your ear, your eyes couldn’t focus. Blood was everywhere. Jocelyn lay on the couch, reclined like she was watching TV, hand even holding the remote. Only the skin of her face was missing, her chest ripped open, a gaping hole where her heart should have been. Aura was at the table, bowl in front of her, both hearts in it. Her face was also missing. You smelled something burning but couldn’t get your mind to think process anything beyond the sight of your best friends, dead and posed like dolls in some sick playhouse. You weren’t sure when you fell to your knees, you didn’t feel the pain of them hitting linoleum. You didn’t even know when Jason got there, his arms suddenly around you as he tried to pull you back out the door. You let out a cry as he yanked you out, gripping you close as everything finally slammed into you. The buzzing had been the beeping of the smoke alarm from the burning faces on the stove. The smell the melting flesh of your friends’ identities stolen from them. The floor had a message in their blood.

We will take everything from you Red Hood

You looked at yourself, seeing blood on your clothes from you kneeling in it. You let out a cry of horror. You didn’t care when the blood on you was from yourself, but this was your best friends, your sisters. Jason hugged you again, whispering anything in your ear to try and calm you. After several minutes you finally were able to gain some control of yourself, just in time for the GCPD to arrive.

“YN,” Jim said softly, looking at you as his investigators entered the apartment. You stared at him, still not sure if everything that was happening was real or not. “YN, let’s go downstairs.” You nodded slowly and followed him, your brain moving quickly as you started to think of a plan that Jason would hate but considering they wanted to break him it might be the only way to find these monsters.

Jason had been quiet driving you back to the cave. He had said he would get his bike later, now he just wanted you safe. You stared straight ahead, mind empty of everything but the sight of Jocelyn and Aura, mutilated and humiliated in their deaths in a way that would never leave you. You could never imagine closing your eyes again without seeing that destruction. You wondered when you would stop smelling their blood mixed with the burning flesh on the stove. You needed a shower, but there would be time for that later. You needed to end this.

Dick was there to help you out of the car when you were back in the garage. You heard Jason get out and he took of his helmet. You rounded on him, fury in your eyes.

“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” you screamed, eyes blazing. Jason stood, shocked, staring at you, first confused, then hurt. “They were innocent, and you let them…they tortured them Jason all because you had to go after Joker!” You walked over, fist balling, until you were close enough to throw it at his face. He reeled from the unexpected impact.

“YN…I didn’t mean for this to happen…” he said, trying to scramble, think of anything to make you stop. You knew this would kill him, but you needed to do this.

“You didn’t mean for it to happen? Or course not Jason, you never do anything, everything just happens to you. You don’t mean for me to get kidnapped by Black Mask and drown, you just stupidly showed up at my door, leading them to me! And Poison Ivy? If you had just, I don’t know, pulled a fire alarm when you got to the lounge instead of having to find me like an idiot, more people would have lived! You are the reason these things happen, and I was so stupid to think that I could help you, that maybe if I sat by long enough and let you see the messes you made you would finally realize that everything was better without you. I’d rather never see a single color again than have you in my life,” you said, taking off the ring and throwing it at him. He caught it and stared after you as you ran over to Tim, hugging him, hammering the last painful nail into the coffin. Let Jason see that he was being replaced again. Tim kept his arm around you and walked away, dropping the Pyg mask he had been carrying that had just watched everything unfold. Watched as you imploded Jason’s world and your own.

#jasontodd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood #redhood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #brokenprism

[neontokyoo]

I just read the Story were the reader becomes the other woman. First of fall I think it's very well written and second imagine how kunikida (and maybe others from ada) would react when the pm and Ada fight against eachother and he sees reader being with the mafia and just being cruel.

*ahem*

As the clashes between the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency escalated, tensions reached a boiling point. The once close-knit members of the agency found themselves pitted against their former comrade, the one they knew as the compassionate and caring individual, now shrouded in darkness.

Kunikida, a man known for his unwavering sense of justice, couldn't believe his eyes as he saw you on the side of the Port Mafia, clad in their sinister attire. The shock and hurt in his heart were immense, unable to fathom how you had transformed from the person he loved into someone so cold and cruel.

As the battle raged on, Kunikida couldn't help but recall the memories of your time together—the laughter, the shared dreams, and the love you once had. Seeing you on the opposing side felt like a betrayal he could hardly comprehend.

"I won't believe it," Kunikida whispered to himself, struggling to reconcile the person he knew with the one he saw before him. "There must be a reason behind this."

But with every malicious move you made, every ounce of kindness and warmth you once possessed seemed to evaporate. It was as if the heart he had cherished had turned to stone, leaving him haunted by the loss of the woman he once loved.

Throughout the battle, other members of the Armed Detective Agency also struggled to come to terms with your transformation. Ranpo, who had often shared lighthearted moments with you, found himself unable to accept the sight of your cruelty. Atsushi, who once saw you as a caring and understanding figure, felt a profound sense of loss and sadness.

Dazai, who had once predicted your involvement with the Port Mafia, kept his emotions well-hidden, but a flicker of regret lingered in his eyes. He understood the pain this battle caused, not just on the physical battlefield, but in the hearts of those who once considered you family.

As the dust settled and the fight subsided, Kunikida couldn't help but approach you, seeking answers to the questions that plagued his mind. "Why, Y/N? What happened to the person I knew?"

Your response was cold and unyielding, lacking any hint of the warmth he once cherished. "People change, Kunikida. This is who I am now. Get used to it."

His heart sank, feeling a sharp ache at your indifference. "No… I won't accept this. There has to be something we can do, something to bring you back."

But your only response was a cruel smirk, and you turned away, leaving Kunikida and the memories of what once was behind.

In the aftermath of the battle, Kunikida and the others were left to pick up the pieces. The pain of seeing you on the opposite side was a wound that wouldn't easily heal. The battle may have ended, but the scars of lost love and betrayal would linger, a reminder of the person you once were and the one you had become.

Bonus: Dazai knew everything from the very beginning, and is the only ADA member you stayed in contact with because of your very similar situations (losing a loved one and switching from one side to another)

#i don't love nobody #i'm dead inside #bungo stray dogs manga #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou sd #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #kunikida doppo #bsd kunikida #kunikidazai #kunikida x reader #armed detective agency #kora's anons

[suguwuus]

Could you write conner x daughter of hades. She has to comfort him about his nightmares about Luke after getting back from the Argo 2 mission.

ok so maybe i lied abt posting the mphfpc au first. also ?? was a bit confused w the ask but i made it work. reader is nico and hazel's sibling and yeah you'll figure it out. also i think it's more focused on reader than connor WAAAAHH sorry !! being a hades kid already has enough baggage so

wc: 1.8k words

contains: heavily hinted trauma/ptsd

You couldn't sleep. You just couldn't. Even with the warmth of another body pressing onto you, even with his boyish scent mixed with a hint of citrus, even with the assurance of every breath he took, and the breaths that tickled your side, you couldn't find it in you to want to sleep.

If you closed your eyes you'd see bloodshed and gnashing teeth and the flash of bronze. If you listened to anything other than your or his breathing you'd hear roars, of either the raging wind or the hordes of monsters in front of you, or the screams of your companions.

If you looked to the side you'd start picturing red eyes watching you through the window, hungrily waiting for you to let your guard down. If you looked to the other side you'd see your brother Nico's empty bed. You knew it was his, even though he hadn't left a trace.

You wondered how he was doing, but that made a lump grow in your throat and your eyes started to sting and something ugly burned in the pit of your stomach. Fuck! Why did you agree to go on that stupid quest anyway? Quest...no, it wasn't a quest. It was a mistake, that's what it was. A mistake that led you into being separated from your half-siblings—who knows where they are or what they're doing, definitely not you; or if they were still alive—no. No, you told yourself firmly. You would've felt it if it happened. And you have not felt anything. You refused to even entertain the thought.

Your mind started to cloud with worry. Even though you couldn't remember much, the feeling was still there. Nico's eyes genuinely looked like those of a cornered animal; it was the first time you'd ever seen him like that. And then after that, you were on the shores of Long Island, battered and bruised and barely coherent. It was a bad ambush and Nico had shadow traveled you back to camp.

You didn't want to think about him. Because you'd end up crying, and you didn't like crying. And you didn't want to end up crying about everything else, like the burden on your shoulders and possible survivor's guilt, the weight Nico and Hazel would be carrying right now, the responsibility, the lack of your siblings' whereabouts, the primordial deity Gaea waking up...

Fuck. You were spiraling again. In the literal sense of the word, your head wasn't spinning, but it did feel quite loud.

You bit your lip. It's here again.

You didn't want to move. You were afraid you'd explode if you did. Your fingertips tingled. Electricity tickled at the callouses, calling for the hilt of a blade, the surface of a stone to throw, the sinew of a bowstring, the shaft of a spear, even the trigger of a gun.

It's the bloodlust and jitters you'd been feeling these past few weeks, when traveling with Nico, defending the Argo II when attacks struck or yourself when you were out alone. And it didn't help much now, now that you were thinking about all these things and sleep deprived, dehydrated, hungry, and possibly delirious. You were afraid that if you got up and moved your body like how a puppeteer would work his marionette you wouldn't be satisfied with anything until you were able to destroy something completely.

The ugly feeling in your stomach was close to bubbling over the brim. You had parted your lips to sigh, but nothing came out. A jolt of horror went through you. Were you turning into a shadow?

You did the first thing you could do to ground yourself—squeeze Connor's arm which was draped over your body.

He grunted in his sleep and stirred, but didn't wake. You couldn't turn your head to look at him.

This time, when you sighed, you heard your shaky breath. That calmed you down a bit. But Connor moved again beside you, and this time you could hear a faint whisper come out of his mouth.

When you finally look over at him, he's clammy. Sweat is beading at his temples and his brows are furrowed. It takes you a second to snap out of it, a second and the feeling of his hand twitch against your midriff.

"No. I won't..." He's mumbling things, and you wonder whether you should wake him up or not. You've seen and heard of incidents where demigods are woken up in the middle of their nightmares and it springs them into action, triggering their battle skills and having them attack the person who woke them up. Then again, you weren't afraid of that happening with him.

Oh, so now you trusted him enough to think that he wouldn't attack you on instinct?

But then again, no matter what happened when you woke him up, you'd forgive any reaction, violent or not. After all, you yourself stayed up to avoid your own bad dreams.

You didn't want to see him thrash around and you didn't want him to suffer in his dreams for any longer. And you didn't care if it risked your face to wake him up. So you give his arm a little shake.

He doesn't wake, so you do it harder. You use your voice this time. "Connor." It sounds hoarse. It breaks through the silence like a jagged blade.

He stirs again, and you can see his irises move under his eyelids. He blinks awake a few moments later, arms moving confusedly as if he was still, quite literally, half asleep.

When his gaze landed on you, he flinched, but then he realized it was you, so he turned away, embarrassed. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he almost fell off the bed, swinging his legs over the edge.

"I-I can't...oh, Y/N, I'm sorry, sweetie, shit, was I keeping you up?" He looks over his shoulder at you and you slowly shake your head, not sure how to respond to him.

"You were having a bad dream," You explained. "Did I do you a favor or...?"

Connor stayed silent. He put his elbows on his thighs and bent over, cradling his head in his hands. "I don't understand, I don't understand, why did he show up again, I thought—shit." He murmured a string of Greek curses.

Carefully, you scooted over to him. You put a shaking hand on his shoulder. "Do you...uhm..."

"It's...Luke." His voice was strained, like he forced himself to utter the name. The name of his older half-brother who taught him all the best tricks, taught him how to swim, showed him all the best hiding spots in camp, explained all the best ways to pickpocket someone, and also betrayed the camp years ago, becoming the vessel of Kronos, the god who took part in causing the Second Titan War.

You didn't really know much about him. But you could tell that he meant a lot to Connor and Travis. And you could only imagine their pain having to take over Cabin 11 for someone who now had gold eyes and was leading an army to his previous (and their) home.

Connor was shaking his head, and you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder. "I don't want him to come back, I thought I was done with that. He's dead," he said loudly, and for a second you thought he was telling it to himself and not you.

"Gods, I don't want him to come back. I miss him, yeah, no shit, but I don't want him back, I have my own big brother—"

"One that isn't a douchebag, yeah," You blurted out without thinking. You were too groggy to care about his reaction, but to your great surprise, his shoulders trembled with a small laugh.

He sighed and turned to face you. His bottom lip looked red and bitten, the skin punctured, and there were marks on his forehead where he must've dug his nails into. But he was smiling softly, with trembling lips. Smiling like you were the only thing that mattered to him at that moment.

He opened his arms, and when you didn't move closer, remaining curled up on the other edge of the bed like that, he was the one who scooted over, attaching himself to your body as a source of comfort.

He heaved a sigh and murmured something you couldn't understand, but you followed his lead and wrapped an arm around him, too. You would never get over how warm he was, especially in contrast to how naturally cold you were.

Eventually you ended up with both your arms around him, one hand in his hair, the other patting his back. You trusted yourself enough to finally close your eyes. The darkness wasn't so bad when you could feel Connor in your embrace.

You could still feel his brows which were knit together, his tense shoulders and his pursed lips. And yet you were willing to hold him like this until he was all better.

"I'm here," you whispered. "It's alright. It was just a dream. Luke is..." You paused, running your hand through his hair. You were never good with words. "He's not here. He's never coming back anymore, you're safe." Your breath almost got caught in your throat. In the general sense, that was an obvious lie, but you hoped he understood what you meant.

"It's just me, Connor. It's okay."

You felt him bite his lip again, but then eventually he released his balled fists and hugged you back, finally relaxing. The both of you adjusted so you were leaning against pillows propped up, and when Connor finally sat up from pressing his face into you there were lines on his face and he was a bit flushed.

You stared at him, taking in his features and his slight frown. "Are...you okay?" You asked tentatively. He nodded, looking down. You could see his eyelashes were wet. His breath still trembled, but only for a moment. The best you could do was give him a supportive squeeze.

"Thanks." There was a rustle as he pulled the blanket over the both of you, getting back into a comfortable position. "Thank you, for...yeah. I'll try not to think about it." He leaned on the wall and laced his fingers through yours, sighing against your neck. "What would I do without you?"

When you didn't answer, unsure of what to respond with, he chuckled lightly and kissed your cheek. "It's a rhetorical question. I love you."

#— suguwuu's posts #connor stoll #connor stoll x reader #pjo x reader #pjo oneshots #pjo #hey girls im back

[dangermousie]

Some musings on Minglan families

I don’t know why this came to mind but I guess I am always ready to talk about the Story of Minglan. I was just thinking about how the (differing but believable) awfulness of the families of the three main characters - Minglan, Gu Tingye, Qi Heng - has shaped them and the whole damage can be overcome but it permanently affects who you and there is never a clear moment of catharsis that would be narratively satisfying but unlikely in real life.

Out of the three, Gu Tingye’s family is definitely the most textbook abusive. I still remember the scene where the Dowager Empress is angry at something and orders Tingye beaten and he removes his shirt and the old lady, tough as nails and not a fan of Tingye, freaks at the sight of his horrifically scarred back and withdraws her punishment. The thing that really strikes me about that whole set up is how realistic it is that the old Marquis has spent his whole life angry that he was cowardly/greedy and put aside the wife he liked to marry Tingye’s rich but socially inferior mother and unable to cope with what this makes him has instead chosen to displace all his rage on the visible product of that union. The thing that is so maddening watching the scenes early on is not the beatings; it’s the constant gaslighting of Tingye - a supremely competent and functional and decent person that he deserves to be constantly abused that he is constantly in the wrong; anything he does however normal and even praiseworthy is somehow twisted as deserving punishment. The sheer frustration of no rational argument being possible is suffocating. The golden child (with Tingye’s half brother) versus scapegoat (with Tingye himself) dynamic is a little too on the nose - the scene where the old man solicitously fusses over his oldest son as Tingye is getting beaten in the background is something else. 

And there is never any “I am sorry I was wrong” moment from the old man. Tingye wants understanding and some hint, however small, that the old man actually cares and he never gets it. The old man dies, everything unresolved and his family drives him out. But in a way, that is his liberation - with his father dead and the rest of the family making clear how they loathe him and always will - he is free to make his own way and he does. Even when he comes back years later and has to put up with the clan for appearances’ sake, emotionally he is utterly free from them. His emotional investment died with the old man, and he is too powerful for them to torment him now. Oh, they try to sneakily cause trouble, but he is in clearsighted position of power so they can’t do much. And significantly, Tingye’s happy ending is almost utterly bereft of his birth family - a large chunk of them are dead or exiled. The amazing symbolism when his horrific stepmother (herself in so many ways a victim of that shark pit) sets that House of Horrors on fire and Tingye’s ancestral hall burns down to the ground is stark. They rebuild but now it’s free of all the shadows of past abuse; it’s rebuilt by Tingye who now has the family he chose himself - Minglan, their baby, Tingye’s daughter, his one normal half-brother and his niece. I love so much there is no grand familial reconciliation as there is nothing to salvage. 

It’s actually a mirror to Minglan’s happy ending, isn’t it? Because for Minglan, the happy ending is similar. Her happiness is found in the family she’s made with Tingye and in a relationship with her grandma and decent siblings - Changbai and Rulan. You see her chummy with her father (about who more below) and you realize that the reason she can be like this with him because she has not only ceased to expect anything from him (she ceased long ago) but also because she has filled the lack of love from him by love she has made in her new family. The Shens are not textbook abusive the way Gus were but in a way they damaged Minglan even more than his house of horrors damaged Tingye. (side note - they are based on novels by the same author; but in terms of adaptations I much prefer how Minglan handled abusive families than LLTG did where with the mom they wanted to have their cake and eat it too.) Papa Shen never used Minglan as a scapegoat and her “official” mother while not fond of her, didn’t particularly hunt her. But Minglan is so scarred because she grew up realizing that the whole world as far as she is concerned (because as a woman, the household is her whole world) is controlled by a man who can never be relied on, who puts his own comfort above anything, who can never truly love or protect. In the first episode, we see her mother dying in childbirth and the only person who tries to help is Tingye, who is not only himself a child at the time, but a stranger. Papa Shen is so realistic - all he wants is his comfort, he is incapable of love (monster Marquis Gu loved his oldest son at least, I do not think Papa Shen can love anyone at all.) Look how he has his supposed beloved concubine beaten and taken out and not for anything but making him be humiliated and because he realized she never cared for him. (The reason he has an excellent relationship with Minglan at the end is because this is exactly the kind of relationship he craves - his daughter is successfully married to the emperor’s favorite and does not ask anything from him to boot. He does not even realize there can be anything more.) What it does to a child, especially a girl child in that society, to grow up with this as a parent is so apparent in Minglan.

She is incredibly self-sufficient, incredibly good at masking and acting the way her companions want to, and her emotions are so completely locked up. In a way, their different reactions to trauma have to do with gender - Tingye reacts to the appalling lack of love from those who should love him by going out in the wide world and looking desperately for someone, anyone to love him. That is why he gets involved with Manniang after all - he wants a family to replace the one he does not in any meaningful way have. But Minglan is a woman, she cannot do that. She cannot go looking for love or to leave home and make her own to her liking or anything. She is like a plant - stuck where she is, incapable of moving by herself. Since she cannot go looking for love (the one time she sort of tried, with Qi Heng, we saw how it ended), all she can do is make herself believe and feel she does not need love. 

Gu Tingye tries so hard and so long to win her love and her trust and she fights him so hard but the reason he feels free to do so, to throw his heart at her feet is not just his own reaction to his trauma versus her reaction to hers - it’s because he’s a man, he’s also socially higher. He can do so. He can do so and choose wrongly and survive (see Manniang.) She cannot, this is her very life. One of the things I love so much is that the more she is with Tingye, the more she feels free to show her sharp edges because it means she feels not just loved/love (that is cheap in her world), but safe and accepted. She does not have to be a perfect patterncard, a living doll, making others’ comfort her number one priority. When at the end, she reunites with Tingye and she is cursing him, spitting at him, hugging him, and kissing him all at once, that is the freest she’s ever been and it’s the biggest testament to how much he’s earned not just her love but her true self. 

But OK, where does Qi Heng come in all of this? He’s a man, he’s the only son of a Duke, he’s pampered. What is wrong with his family, you may ask. Some. His mother (his father does whatever his mother wants) is the one who murders his servant (his close confidant), who has set out a path for Qi Heng to follow. It’s not abuse, not really, but it’s not really seeing him as a person either, is it? But the thing that really strikes him about him is not his birth family. It’s his first marriage family. Because with Qi Heng, The Story of Minglan touches on something that is rarely seen in dramas or other period narratives, how class trumps gender. Qi Heng is placed in a position we almost never see male characters placed in, the role beautiful women are usually placed. A powerful prince’s daughter sees him and wants him. Qi Heng is a man and an aristocrat and a scholar. But he has no power in this situation - he’s a pretty toy a spoiled woman wants and a spoiled woman gets because in that society, what matters is power. He is placed exactly in a situation we see beautiful women placed in these stories - he does not want to marry her, he refuses, but he has no choice. He threatens suicide (once again, a female-coded action) but cannot even be allowed that as his family is threatened. So he’s taken in marriage against his volition and under threat solely for his looks and treated as a thing to play with and to be humiliated by his position and by his wife who looks down on him and controls him. I find it so interesting and telling that in a lengthy 73 episode drama we get not a single shot of his reaction to the fact that his wife and his in-laws get massacred in a coup. None. In fact, we never ever get a single reference by him to that marriage EVER for the whole subsequent runtime, he just stuffs it in a corner in his mind and that’s that. Which is actually in itself a trauma response. But the thing that is noteworthy that he is a character who started with essays that lack strength of character, a person who loses Minglan because he cannot steel himself to do outrageous things the way Tingye can, but he ends the story a man who will face down the emperor for Tingye, a man he doesn’t even like by then (see Minglan situation.) Trauma made him grow up because as with Minglan and Tingye, if it will not break you, it will make you willing to fight because you’ve already faced down horrors and survived. (And that is why I am happy he gets his own happy ending with his own wife - this drama is ultimately very kind.)

#cdrama #meta #the story of minglan

[creeping-kommando]

Da Pit Stop

It had been a grueling couple of weeks for Da Doom’eadz that Grimgrod had snagged to travel with him on some sort of hunt. Each stumbled about the small search ship known as Da Skimmer, busy maintaining their vessel, going about their Orky day, or delivering more useless ‘clues’ to Grimgrod Tinbusta.

The Boss-Kommanda had taken to long bouts of isolation within his private quarters, taking each bit of trivial documentation, boring Dataslates, and screaming alien prisoners into his sanctum. He had been scouring the galaxy for even hints of his new appareant rival, ‘Da Silvah Ooman’, and with each passing day the Orks aboard the Skimmer considered their options.

Morgit ‘No-Arm’ Teefsmasha was one of these gits, who at the moment was forced to be looking through a space adjusted periscope for some sort of ‘Trade Zone’. The idea was ridiculous, and his mood only soured when each turn of the viewport revealed the same exact thing he saw everytime.

Empty Space.

“Still nuffin Boss.” He’d announce across the bridge, his deep voice drifting to Grimgrod seated quietly in Da Big Chair. The Warboss held his chin, gears turning in his head as he considered the coordinates he had strangled out of that last inquisitorial agent he had captured.

“Look again. It’s round dere somewhere, I know it.” Grimgrod ordered, and leaned forward in his seat. He has spent numerous wakeless nights pouring over his clue wall, connecting strings to bones, papers, and even the torn of arm of individuals who may have even brushed by Meredith in passing. She had to be here, there was something in this region of space.

“Still nuffin Boss.” No-Arm growled, clawed hands digging into the handles of the periscope as his rage continued to build. They had been tracking this damn human for weeks now, and still nothing. At this point, No-Arm was convinced he’d have to step in, and challenge Grimgrod. All this Muckin ‘bout was sickening.

“Look ag-“ Grimgrod had been about to order, when a Boy exclaimed,

“WE GOT ACTIVITY ON DA GIT FINDA BOSS!” In a rush, multiple Orks dashed from their own terminals, tripping over each other just to glimpse at what had been spotted. On the monitor a shape had begun to manifest, and as Grimgrod stepped from his chair to peer into the screen, he’d glimpse a familiar sort of massive space craft.

“Zoggin ‘ell…” he’d murmur, “it’s a Craftworld.”

@athenafire