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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year

Text

Sorry to Meet You

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Summary: The moral dilemma of the patriarch of the Cullen clan finally meeting his mate after 350 years.

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, accident, surgery, not beta’d, turning, grief

Word Count: 5.8k (sorry, I got a little carried away and I’m getting used to writing one shots again)

Masterlist

I rounded the corner within the halls of my father’s hospital, heading towards his oh so familiar office. I had spent a good portion of my childhood playing in the office halls of the hospital so as to not get in the way of an emergency. Every take your child to work day, every early dismissal, random day off from school, and every weekend he had to work and couldn’t find someone to watch me, he brought me here up until I was about 12.

Now I was in college, studying biology as a pre-med student at Johns Hopkins University. But today I was returning to Forks for my summer vacation in between my freshman and sophomore year. He was supposed to pick me up from the airport tomorrow but I had wanted to surprise him at work so I left a day early.

Reaching the door to his office, I entered. Embarrassingly, I had been so eager I hadn’t even checked if he was busy. As the door swung open I was met with the golden hair and eyes of the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. Given his youth I assumed he was a student or a resident but one look at his badge told me he was an attending.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” my father’s voice broke me from my trance.

“Hi!” I smiled at my father, ripping myself from the mystery man’s enchanting gaze. “I wanted to surprise you,” I explained, returning his hug. “I was so excited I didn’t even consider that you were busy. Sorry,” I apologized to both men.

“Don’t be,” the blond said in an almost melodic voice. “Trust me I understand the importance of family.”

“Yeah Dr. Cullen’s kids are here all the time,” my father laughed.

‘This guy has kids?’ I thought. ‘Plural? He looks no older than 25.’

Seemingly reading the confusion on my face he explained. “Adopted kids. My sister and I were foster kids so we always agreed we’d adopt as many as possible. So far we’ve adopted five teenagers, hoping to give them a new shot at life.”

“Wow,” was all I said, unsure of how to react. ‘Well this guy was definitely out,’ I noted to myself. ‘Not only is he your father’s colleague, he had five teenagers.’ “Well I should let you get back to it,” I said shyly, already backing out of my father’s office, embarrassed. “I’ll be at the house and we’ll get dinner after?” I suggested to my father.

“Sounds good. See you later sweetie,” he called after me.

Carlisle tried his hardest to focus on Dr. L/N’s words but he couldn’t, he was so focused on his colleague’s daughter. When she entered the office he had sucked in a breath he didn’t need. He had heard that some mate connections hit you like a brick but he hadn’t seen it with anyone except presumably between Rosalie and Emmett when she demanded he save him.

So as soon as he was done with his meeting he hopped into his Mercedes and headed towards Dr. L/N’s house. Once he reached it he found no cars in the driveway or any indication that there had been a car there recently, only wet footprints leading up to the porch and inside the door, presumably from Y/N getting out of a cab.

Continuing past the house he parked about half a mile away before running back to the house, a feat that only took him a couple seconds.

Taking a page from Edward’s book he began creeping along the side of the house, trying to spot Y/N through a window. But when he couldn’t find her he was forced to climb up some trees until he found her in what was presumably her bedroom, unpacking a suitcase full of clothes.

He watched, admiring the girl as she sorted through the clothes, tossing some in the laundry bin and others in piles to be sorted in the closet. He realized that he could watch her all day, admiring the quirks of her expression as she reacted to different situations. He hadn’t understood the other Cullens’ obsessions with each other until now.

He continued to watch for hours. His eyes sometimes drifting to the delicate curves of her body but always scolding himself for thinking of her like that given that she didn’t even really know him. But a small part of his mind whispered that she’d be his one day.

He only left when he heard her father’s car approaching, swearing to come back to learn more about her so he could strike up a conversation about her favorite things the next time they “accidentally” ran into each other.

The next time I visited the hospital wasn’t just to visit my father, it was because I had managed to slip in a puddle, earning myself a gash on the forehead.

I was sat in the waiting room going on two hours with a blood soaked rag pressed to my forehead. I truly didn’t mind waiting seeing as I knew there were far more injured people getting treated. But as I continued to wait I started to get more and more light headed. I began to make my way to the desk in hopes they could give me some answers when I got a head rush, stumbling into a very cold, hard chest.

“Y/N?” I heard the melodic voice again. This time dripping with concern. “What happened?”

“Oh nothing,” I dismissed, reluctantly pulling away from the grasp he had on my arms. “Just slipped in a puddle and my head kind of ate it,” I chuckled.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, more concern ebbing into his voice.

“I don’t know about two hours?” I shrugged, trying to not make a big deal of it. “Please don’t tell my dad, he’ll just get all concerned and angry and wonder why I wasn’t immediately treated.”

Inside, Carlisle was already feeling all those things I just described. “Well you shouldn’t have to sit there for two hours, bleeding out of your head. You should’ve been brought for a CT. C’mon, can’t have Dr. L/N’s daughter bleeding out in the waiting room.”

I smiled shyly as I felt his strong, cold hand be gently placed on my lower back as he guided me towards an exam room.

All throughout the exam Carlisle had to hold his breath. He has excellent control, it’s what many believe to be his special ability and it allows him to do what he loves but Y/N’s blood? The faintest smell alone made venom flood his mouth. And the blood soaked rag along with the fact that he had to bandage up her forehead didn’t help.

“Okay, that should do it,” he smiled, thankfully pulling back from his mate as he finished taping a bandage onto her head. “You’ll have to keep it bandaged for a couple days but your father should be able to help with that. And you most likely won’t scar.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Dr. Cullen. I owe you one.”

He shook his head, breathing a laugh as he looked down at the girl’s chart. “Please, I’m happy to do it. And you can call me Carlisle.”

“Carlisle,” she repeated, nearly melting the vampire right there, “that’s an interesting name, never heard it.”

“Well my parents were a bit old fashioned,” he explained. “So your father tells me you finished your first year at Johns Hopkins? That’s very impressive.”

He admired her blush as she looked down at the ground. “Thanks. I think I was the only one of my graduating class to go out of state.”

“Yeah, I’ve figured out Forks is a very small town. Not many people leave,” he chuckled. “Do you know what you want to study?”

“Um I’ve always kind of wanted to be a surgeon. I know it’s the most difficult specialty but I enjoy the precision of it,” she shrugged.

Carlisle felt a sense of disappointment at the news that his mate wanted to be a surgeon. Being a doctor was hard enough as a vampire but having to literally cut people open? Even he didn’t think he’d be able to focus surrounded by so much blood. He was already dreading having to tell her that she couldn’t be a surgeon after she turned, not at least for decades while she learned control. He was suddenly snapped from his fantasies realizing that this human barely knew him and practically everything he knew about her came from his lurking outside her windows.

Dragging himself out of his thoughts which had no doubt created a long, awkward pause he spoke again. “Yes, well if you made it to Johns Hopkins then I’m sure you can do it.”

“Thanks Doc- Carlisle,” Y/N corrected before standing up off the table and heading for the door.

As she exited, taking most of her intoxicating scent with her, Carlisle sucked in a breath he didn’t need. As much as he hated watching his mate leave he needed a break from her blood. No one had tempted him the way Y/N L/N had, even when he was a starving newborn. And he realized that he would have to figure out a way to get close to her and get her to love him before he even told her about the mate bond. A difficult feat considering her father’s place as his colleague.

When Carlisle got home that evening he immediately went to his room, tipping off the family that something was different.

As he collapsed backwards onto his sofa he let his mind wander to his mate. He could picture her face so clearly, and more frighteningly he could still imagine the smell of her blood with eerie accuracy. He imagined all his future endeavors to keep her safe as a human. He’d watch over her, always be within reach to step in when she needed. He pictured their love story. It’d be slow and start with glances and fleeting touches until he invited her out to dinner once she became more comfortable with him. He’d kiss her goodnight on the porch and then make sure she got into the safety of her home before leaving. Their relationship would develop from there with more dates, with Y/N’s father’s approval of course. And when she uttered the words ‘I love you,’ he’d tell her about him and his species because he knew he had earned her love. And as much as he didn’t want to damn her to a life of hiding and being a monster, he couldn’t help but imagine her turning. He’d gently bite into the soft flesh of her throat, injecting his venom into her veins, cementing her as his forever. But the thought of hurting her and turning her into a monster made him hesitate.

As Carlisle continued to immerse himself in his fantasies, his sister entered. “Carlisle?” Esme called softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sitting up. He wasn’t sure whether or not to tell his family that he had met him mate, considering they were already dealing with the human mate to Edward, Bella, who they had just moved back to Forks for. Of course no secrets stayed secrets for long thanks to Edward and Alice’s gifts. Edward could be counted on for discretion but Alice’s overeager nature wouldn’t allow that. He was surprised that Alice hadn’t already planned a party but maybe she hadn’t seen his mate in her visions yet. He had also wanted to keep her his own little secret for a while but clearly that wouldn’t be happening so he relented. “I- uh met my true mate.”

Esme’s eyes widened as she gasped. Of course living in a house full of vampires everyone heard and immediately began rushing in.

“You met your mate!” Alice practically screamed, nearly knocking over Esme.

“What’s she like?” Emmett asked with a grin. “Or he?” he added hesitantly.

“It’s a she,” Carlisle confirmed. “It’s very new. She doesn’t even really know anything about me and everything I know about her comes from lurking outside her window,” he groaned in embarrassment.

“Well that worked with Bella,” Jasper laughed.

Edward shot his brother a glare before looking back at his adoptive father. “Just find an excuse to be around her, ask her on a date.”

“That’s the thing, she’s 19-”

“You’re physically 23,” Alice cut in.

“Her father is my coworker,” he elaborated. “Besides they think I’m 31 at the hospital. And she just finished her first year pre-med.”

“So you’ll see her around the hospital!” Alice insisted, still trying to convince her adoptive father that everything would be fine. “Suggest that she comes to the hospital more to observe or do an internship! Then you can get to know her and ask her on a date.”

“That’s not actually the worst plan,” Edward admitted.

Carlisle thought for a second. That could actually work, he’d just have to figure out how to bring it up to her and her father naturally.

“So what’s she like?” Rosalie asked suddenly.

If vampires could blush Carlisle would be bright red. “Well um she has H/L, (hair length) H/T, (type) H/C (color) hair. She actually looks a lot like her father, Dr. L/N. She goes to Johns Hopkins. Look can everyone just go back to what they were doing?”

“But we want to meet her,” Alice practically whined.

In his frustration with everything Carlisle blurted out, “You may not even get to meet her.”

That dampened the mood. “What?” Esme asked softly.

“Nothing is decided yet but she’s human. We’re already dealing with Bella, the Volturi are already keeping their eyes on us, and I don’t want to doom her to this life if I don’t have to.”

“But this is your mate,” Alice insisted. “You’ve been alone for 350 years!”

“He has a point,” Rosalie cut in. “We can’t afford to have another human know about us especially with the Volturi sniffing around us. And we shouldn’t be turning people unless they’re actively dying.”

“But she’s his true mate!” Alice maintained, practically stamping her foot on the ground. “He can’t just turn his back on her.”

“Look nothing is decided,” Carlisle tried to calm Alice down. “I have to be back at work in a few hours and I need to hunt so if you’d all please let me be.”

Everyone shuffled out of the room reluctantly except for Edward. “It will break your heart to let that girl go.”

Carlisle paused. He knew that, the idea of letting her go live her life and potentially fall in love with someone else broke his heart. “I know,” he admitted. “But the thought of having to hurt her and make her like this hurts just as much.”

“So love her for the duration of her mortal life.”

“Just to watch her age, live in pain, and die? I couldn’t handle that.”

“But you’re doing it for her,” Edward pointed out.

“But if I’m doing it for her shouldn’t I just let her go live a normal life?”

Edward shrugged. “I don’t know the right answer here just that no matter what you choose it’ll kill you in some way. That’s the unfortunate truth about loving a human.”

A few weeks went by and Y/N became a routine part of Carlisle’s day. He’d usually see her at the hospital, working as a secretary. (A job she acquired even without Carlisle’s suggestion.) Because of that he had gained a reputation for hanging around the nurses station, flirting with Y/N. Not only did he learn about her through actually talking to her, he would make frequent trips to her house to watch her through the windows, even occasionally going into her room, which he felt wrong about but being surrounded by her scent dismissed any doubt from his mind.

“Y/N,” he greeted like he did every morning, bringing her a coffee.

“You must be spending a fortune on coffee,” she commented, taking the cup. She had protested several times, insisting that she pay him back but he refused every time so she just began to accept it.

“It’s nothing,” he dismissed. “But if it was it’d be worth it,” he flirted, earning a blush from the girl. Carlisle had learned a lot about flirting in these few weeks. At first it was a bit clumsy but he picked it up fairly easily with a little coaching from Rosalie and Emmett.

“Yeah well you won’t have to spend like $4.50 everyday for much longer, one of my professors is starting a research project a month before the semester begins and he invited me as a fellow,” she explained, a glimmer of disappointment behind her bright, casual expression.

If Carlisle’s heart wasn’t already frozen it would’ve stopped beating. He tried his best to hide his shock and disappointment. “Oh, well congratulations. Getting invited to stuff like this is really good for med school applications.”

“Yeah, and I like being here but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up, y’know? Plus it’ll be nice to see the sun again,” she awkwardly laughed, sensing the doctor’s unease.

“Yeah, um well I have to go get some labs. Congratulations, I’ll see you around,” he rushed out with a forced smile. He didn’t stay long enough to hear her response, rushing out of the room as fast as possible without being suspicious.

He couldn’t think straight. He of course had thought about her just leaving but now that it was actually happening, as well as happening sooner than expected, he didn’t know how to deal with it.

Carlisle had no clue what to do when it came to his mate leaving. He couldn’t stop her, that wasn’t fair to Y/N, so instead he kept his distance. Which was easy considering that he could smell her from a mile away. Until one day at the hospital when the scent of her blood was particularly strong.

“19 year old female, car crash. Resuscitated once in the field, three times en route,” the panicked voice of the paramedic echoed through Carlisle’s sensitive ears. He rushed into the ER, spotting her through the window of the trauma room. He mostly recognized her through her scent but would know that H/T, H/C hair and S/T skin through purple and blue bruises from a million miles away. But the next words from her attending doctor only confirmed the worst. “Page Dr. L/N, it’s Y/N!”

It felt like Carlisle had been sucker punched in the gut. It took everything in him not to stagger back and let out a dry sob right there in the ER. When her heart monitor flatlined he wanted to slaughter every person in that room in his grief. It was ridiculous, 350 years of self control would be gone just because of a girl. But not just any girl, his girl.

When they finally got Y/N’s heartbeat back they wheeled her up to surgery, just as Dr. L/N entered the ER. “Where’s Y/N? Where’s my daughter?” he demanded, trying to launch himself at the ER desk.

“D/N, D/N,” Carlisle tried to calm the distraught father. He had to physically hold the man back with vampire strength. Fortunately the ER was too chaotic for anyone to notice. “They took her up to surgery, she’ll be fine.”

“Surgery? Oh god,” the man began to cry. “But that’s my baby, she’s all I have.” With those words Carlisle began to feel guilty. Just a few weeks ago a part of him had been so ready to basically just kidnap this poor man’s daughter and completely shatter his world without a thought. “Oh god, surgery here is a death sentence.”

Carlisle began to protest before really thinking about it. Forks Hospital was small, their surgical staff consisted of two surgeons and whatever nurses that had completed the surgical nurse program. No one came her for surgery, they all went to Port Angeles and their non-emergent traumas went there too. The only people who came here were on the brink of death and unfortunately the two surgeons here weren’t exactly outstanding in their field. They were good enough but nothing remarkable and they usually lost their patients due to the circumstances.

Carlisle tried to carry on his day as if the love of his life wasn’t dying in a surgical suite right now. But the ordinarily smooth, confident doctor was distracted and constantly messing up. Until finally his shift was over and he went up to his mate’s room. He had orchestrated the nurses’ charts so she’d be placed in a secluded room should Carlisle need to intervene to prolong her life.

When he entered the room he was met with the most heartbreaking sight. Y/N was laid on the bed, an intubation tube sticking out of her throat. Her entire face was black and blue, some bones in her face looked like they had been broken. She hardly looked recognizable. On the only chair in the room sat her father looking like a worried mess. “Oh, hey Carlisle,” Dr. L/N said dejectedly.

“I’m so sorry, D/N.”

The man shrugged. “She’s tough. She managed to claw her way out of this place. She’ll survive this.”

“I hope so,” Carlisle agreed, staring longingly at his mate.

He didn’t want to arouse too much suspicion from Y/N’s father so he reluctantly went home to change and hunt.

After his quick hunt he re-entered his home finding Alice. “Carlisle, I’m so sorry,” she said softly. He wasn’t sure what to say to that but fortunately he didn’t have to come up with anything because she spoke again. “But you have to stay with her at the hospital if you want any shot at survival.” By now Edward had joined them.

“What?” Carlisle asked.

“She won’t survive this. You’re a doctor, you have to know that. So you’ll have to change her.”

Carlisle would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of the scenario where Y/N was severely injured and he needed to change her. He looked up at his oldest son. “There’s nothing wrong about saving her life if she’s already dying.”

Not wanting to waste another second Carlisle sped off. He almost ran to the hospital but realized at the last second he should take the car. So he floored it, doing 150mph practically the whole way there. And finally parking in the back so he’d be able to bring her home unseen.

When he got to the hospital his ears were bombarded with thousands of sounds, something he was now used to, but because of his experience he was able to tune into his mate’s heart monitor while he got his plan ready.

Heading to the morgue he found a body that was a similar build and coloring to Y/N. Carlisle was by no means squeamish but it felt weird to break her bones and watch bruises form over her skin until her face was unrecognizable. He then scraped up as many ashes as possible to make it look like someone had cremated her so no one would go looking for her body. Setting the body aside he headed back upstairs finding Dr. L/N slumped over in a chair.

Carlisle hesitantly shook the older man awake. “Hey,” he said softly, willing the man to take his suggestion. “You should go home and rest. Get changed. I’ll watch over her.” The man hesitated, still staring at his fragile daughter. “She'll be fine, I’ll call you if anything happens.”

He reluctantly agreed before heading out, making Carlisle promise to call him even if her heart rate changed by two points.

Carlisle sat for a while, waiting for the hospital to calm down a bit before enacting his plan. First he went to the nurses station while no one was there, turning off the monitors that connected to his mate’s room. He then went back downstairs, using his hearing and sense of smell to bring the body up without being detected. Finally it was time to turn his mate. He stood over her bedside, observing her mortality for the final time. Through the black and blue of her face he admired her beauty, reminiscing the unique, flawed beauty of mortals.

This would be the most difficult transformation of his life. He was more nervous than when he had turned his sister who was his first turn. Y/N’s blood smelled so sweet he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull away. He took a deep breath through his mouth before lowering his head to her throat, biting quickly. It took everything in him to pull away. He had never killed a human but he had tasted blood when he turned them and Y/N’s was like nothing he had ever tasted before. He knew he had to hold on long enough for the venom to inject into her bloodstream which made it even harder to pull away but he did it.

When he pulled back he could see blood seeping from her puncture wounds telling him he didn’t kill her. He quickly began disconnecting her from the machines before the venom could wreak havoc on her system. He then swapped her body for the one from the morgue, connecting the machines once again. Running down to the car he placed her unconscious figure in the backseat before going upstairs to reconnect the nurses station, alerting them that Y/N L/N was dying.

But by the time they reached her room with a crash cart Carlisle was already escaping with his prize in the back seat.

It took three agonizing days for Y/N’s transformation. Carlisle spent every moment he could at her side. He had to go to the hospital in order to not arouse suspicion where he unfortunately had to deal with her grieving father. He had called him on the way home to tell that he had gone to the bathroom and when he got back she was coding. But it didn’t seem to make anything easier for Dr. L/N as the man tried to tackle Carlisle when he walked into work. Fortunately for his secret a nurse stopped him. “You left her!” he screamed. “I lost my baby. I didn’t get to say goodbye because of you!”

At first Carlisle had been elated to finally have his mate (among other conflicting feelings) but now he was confronting the grief he had created. He realized that even if she was going to die anyway, if he hadn’t intervened her father would’ve gotten to say his final goodbye.

Meanwhile at home Y/N was laid on the soft couch in his room. She had spent the first two days sleeping fairly peacefully to the point that Carlisle was afraid he had killed her but her slowing heartbeat was assurance that she was okay. The third day was the hardest, he learned from Jasper that he could feel her pain. He was at work when the pain started and Alice had called him since she would be awake soon and Carlisle had wanted to be the one with her when she woke up.

Carlisle had been sitting by her side for a few hours, admiring her now clear skin, pure from all the bruises and broken bones she had received. In his own cold, stone hand, he now felt the same in her hand, all the warmth having been drained from it now as he played with her fingers adoringly.

Even before I opened my eyes I could hear so clearly. I could hear the rustle of clothing, the sound of skin rubbing skin as I realized a cold hand was playing with my fingers. As I became more aware I realized that my throat felt so dry it felt like it was burning.

Peeling my eyes open I was met with what seemed like the brightest object in the universe. I was half convinced I was staring directly into the sun except I could heat the hum of electric lighting.

“Is it too bright?” a voice— Carlisle’s voice asked.

Turning my head I met his warm, golden expression. When I nodded in agreement he ran towards the switch faster than I had ever seen anything move. Weird, but maybe I was just really groggy, but strangely I didn’t feel groggy, I felt more alive than I ever had.

Carlisle’s face reappeared in my field of vision, I could now more clearly see the flawlessness of his skin and the flecks of gold in his irises. Unbeknownst to me he was was also now observing the smoothness of my skin and the deep red hue of my eyes. Something about him felt safe and warm, like I never wanted to leave his side again. “Carlisle?” was all I could think of to say.

His adoring smile widened when I said his name. “Hey, Y/N. How are you feeling?”

“Good…” I answered hesitantly. I felt better than I ever had but his question made me think I shouldn’t feel good.

“That’s good. The transformation can be rougher for some people,” he explained, pulling away slightly to allow me room to sit up.

As I pushed myself up I moved so fast the couch slid to the side. My eyes widened, realizing what happened. “What’s going on? What transformation?”

He took my hands in his, now kneeling on the ground in front of me. “This is going to be strange and you won’t believe me but bear with me, okay?” he asked, looking up at me. One look in his eyes and I was melting so I just nodded, allowing him to explain. “I’m… a vampire. And I made you one too.” Laughs began to wrack my body, this had to be a joke. But one look at the grave sincerity on his face told me he wasn’t joking. “It’s true. It’s why when you sat up the couch moved. Why you’re probably really overwhelmed with all the sound, smells, lights, and feelings. Vampires are the most dangerous predators. We have better senses, are faster, and stronger than anything else.” Seeing my lost expression he rushed out the next words. “I know it’s a lot and I’m sorry I did this to you.”

“Why did you do this to me?”

“How much do you remember?”

“The last thing I remember is driv-” I suddenly realized what must’ve happened. “I was in an accident wasn’t I?”

Carlisle nodded his head regretfully. “You weren’t going to make it. That’s why I turned you. I didn’t want to do it. I was going to let you live your life as a human whether that be with me or with someone else but I couldn’t just let you die.”

“So what? You just turn every dying patient in the hospital?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around his words.

He shook his head no. “You’re the first I’ve turned in nearly 70 years. I couldn’t let you die because… well you see-” Carlisle was struggling with the best word choice to keep from scaring his mate off. “We’re mates… I knew the instant I saw you. Humans can’t feel it as strongly and it’s rare to meet your true mate but that’s what we are.” I didn’t know how to react, I didn’t even know exactly what I was feeling. “You don’t have to stay, you certainly don’t have to accept our bond but I thought you should know about it. Before you got hurt I was planning to hopefully be worthy of your love the old-fashioned way but given the circumstances…”

Before I could say anything the door swung open, revealing three more vampires. One had blonde curls, another with a brunette, short pixie, and the third had caramel hair and had a strong resemblance to Carlisle. “Hi, I’m Alice!” the bubbly brunette introduced.

“Um, girls-” Carlisle attempted to dismiss them so as to not overwhelm his mate.

“She’s probably thirsty,” the blonde insisted. Everyone looked over at me expectantly. Remembering the burning in my throat I nodded. Alice approached, opening a cup allowing the most appetizing scent to permeate through the air. I took it eagerly, frowning when I looked into the cup to find a thick, red liquid. Blood.

“It takes a bit of getting used to,” the caramel-haired one empathized.

“Trust me, you’ll like it,” Alice encouraged.

I gingerly brought it to my lips. The more I could smell it the thirstier I got so I downed the drink. The second the blood touched my lips I couldn’t get enough as I began to down the drink. Once it was all gone Carlisle gently brought the cup from my hands. “C’mon, you should meet the others,” he said, gently taking my hand in his. He led me out of his room, the three women following us into what looked like a very modern living room where there were three men waiting for us. “Y/N, these are my adoptive kids,” Carlisle explained as the blonde and Alice went to stand with their… brothers? “That’s Alice and Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie,” he pointed out the couples, “Edward, and my sister, Esme.”

The Cullen clan welcomed Y/N with open arms, including Bella when she eventually met the new vampire. It took a day or two of warming up but soon enough Carlisle and Y/N began to behave just like other mates. They were constantly together, and the rest of the Cullen clan were happy to finally see Carlisle so happy with his mate after 350 years.

Masterlist

#carlisle cullen #carlisle #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle x reader #carlisle imagine #twilight #twilight x reader

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luxaofhesperides · 1 year

Text

those who serve.

Running away from Amity Park—from his entire dimension—Danny takes refuge in the streets of Gotham. It's hard, suddenly being a homeless teenager in such a crime-ridden city, but it's better than dying a second time.

Enter Alfred Pennyworth, a kind old man who works as a butler who, for some reason, has decided to befriend Danny.

His future is still up in the air, but he's hopeful that things will work out. After all, Alfred isn't getting any younger and someone needs to help him with his butler duties. Danny's just the right person for the job.

Or: Alfred Pennyworth sees a homeless teen who looks like he'd fit right into the Wayne family and decides to take matters into his own hands. It's not like he's just going to leave this very sad, possibly meta teenager alone when there's more than enough space in the Manor to house one more child in need.

read chapter one on ao3 or below the cut.

Technically, Danny doesn’t exist.

He has no papers, no records, no family in this dimension. It’s a blank slate, a fresh start where he can be anything he wants. That doesn’t change what he is, however, and Danny is just another lonely child living on the streets.

In Gotham, he’s not a hero or a threat; he’s just another nameless face passing by, another teenager with no support system and no future. Just a figure clinging to the alley walls, head bowed and hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. It’s not great, far from it, but it’s better than the alternative where he—

—parading around in the corpse of our son! How dare you! Wearing his face won’t save you from what we’ll do to you! Leave Danny’s body so we can bury him, leave him! I’ll tear you ap—

This is better, is the point. Out of the frying pan and into the crime ridden streets of Gotham. Not quite a fire but close enough.

No one is hunting him down in this dimension, at least. He’s ignored and left to his own devices, wandering the streets only when the sun’s gone down and slipping into grocery stores after hours, invisible, to get a few things to eat. It sucks that he’s resorted to stealing to survive, but at least he’s surviving.

Survival is the entire reason he ran from his own dimension, after all.

He’s been here for two and a half weeks now, getting acquainted with the streets. Every day is spent hiding and trying to endure the crushing loneliness and grief of losing his entire life. He’s still half alive, yes, but the life he lived has gone up in flames, torn to pieces under his parents’ attacks. He can’t even blame them for it; under the circumstances, with the limited understanding they had, it’s only natural that they would try to kill him after discovering that Danny Fenton, their son, died two years ago.

Understanding doesn’t stop the sting of betrayal, doesn’t soothe the ache of being chased away from his family, but it’s something.

It’s all he has, these days.

There’s no one to hide from, no one who knows him at all, so Danny wanders, more ghost-like than he’s ever been before. People give him a wide berth at night, never making eye contact and walking by faster.

Save for one, of course. One person, at dawn, who always seems to find him no matter where Danny’s wandered that night.

He introduced himself as Alfred Pennyworth. The British accent caught Danny off guard enough that he stopped and turned to face the man, who stood a few feet away, umbrella held over his head.

“Are you quite all right, my boy?” he had asked. “I have a spare umbrella if you would like to keep from getting any more soaked.”

It took a few tries for Danny to find his voice after a week of not speaking a word. “No,” he rasped, barely audible over the rain, “I’m fine.”

He walked away without another word, thinking that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Alfred returned dawn after dawn, never staying longer than ten minutes, trying to make small talk with Danny.

Danny, for his part, had no idea why this random British man had decided to make friends with a homeless teenager, but figured that he was just a lonely old man with no family left. That, Danny could understand. So he’d stay for a bit, listening to him talk and occasionally replying, then say his goodbyes when more people began to emerge onto the street.

Two and a half weeks in, Alfred finally asks Danny for his name.

“Why?” Danny asks, shifting where he stands. He doesn’t exist here, but it doesn’t stop his instinctual need to run from anyone who goes looking into him. The GIW don’t exist here, no one is hunting him down. There’s no information about him in this dimension that can be used against him. It’s hard to remember that, not after he’s spent the last few years trying to keep ghost hunters from finding him.

“I feel it’s rather rude of me to speak to someone I have never properly greeted,” Alfred says. He always speaks so calmly, as if there’s nothing in the world that can shake his composure.

I don’t exist here, Danny reminds himself, I’m safe.

“Danny.”

“Danny,” Alfred repeats. “A fine name.”

“Thanks? It was my first birthday present.”

The stupid comment makes Alfred smile, just a little, so Danny calls it a win instead of beating himself up over having zero control over what his mouth says.

There’s more movement along the streets now, Gotham beginning to wake up with storeowners getting ready for the day and morning shift employees heading out to let the night shift go. It’s just about time for them to part ways until the next morning, and Danny’s resigning himself to another day of loneliness.

His short conversations with Alfred are really all he looks forward to. It’s nice to hear about the man’s time in England, his work as a butler, his opinions on American cuisine and the like. He never presses for a response and he doesn’t try to dig for more information about Danny. Just talks to him, then says his goodbyes.

“I’ll let you go back to your day,” Danny says, pushing off of the wall he’s been leaning against. “See you around.”

Alfred nods once. “Very well. I do hope you get some rest today, Danny. You always look very tired when we talk. I hope I haven’t been keeping you from sleeping.”

“Oh, not at all. I just have insomnia. Better to have some company than just lay around wondering why I can’t sleep, you know?”

“Indeed. I shall be off then.”

“Yeah, alright,” Danny says. “I’ll see you tomorrow once you somehow track me down again. Are you sure you don’t have magic?”

Alfred shakes his head with a small smile. “I am quite positive I do not have magic. Perhaps we simply have similar ideas about where the best places to walk are.”

“Sure,” Danny says, drawing out the word. “Whatever you say.”

Truth be told, the first few days, he was scared that Alfred was somehow tracking him down. For what, Danny didn’t know. Maybe he wanted to harvest Danny’s organs? Sell him to an evil scientist to be experimented on? Induct him into a mob?

Alfred didn’t do any of that. He just showed up, talked for a few minutes, then went on his way. He never followed Danny, never asked strange questions, never did anything besides chat about his life and his work as a butler.

It honestly was fun to listen to. It’s clear how much Alfred cares for his employers. Before meeting him, Danny had never really thought of butlers beyond being an outdated job for people too rich to do their own chores. Now it’s interesting, learning all the things a butler has to do and why Alfred chooses to do them.

He still doesn’t have a favorable opinion on billionaires. Too many bad experiences for him to view them is any unbiased light (thanks for that, Vlad, but eat the rich either way); still, it’s nice to know that this family looks out for Alfred. They give him a place to live, a family to live with, a reason to stay.

It would be nice if Danny could have those too, in any way that he could. He’s at the end of his rope, struggling to stay and not surrender himself into the Zone and be done with the living realm entirely.

Even his Obsession isn’t enough to sustain him. There’s no one to protect here; honest to god vigilantes patrol the streets of Gotham to keep it safe. Danny isn’t needed here.

There’s no place for him at all.

Already, his mood is plummeting and all he’s done is take a few steps away from Alfred. It doesn’t bode well for his future, whether that’s what’s to come in the next few hours or the next year.

Sighing, Danny ducks his head back down and begins his search for someplace to bunker down for the day. There are quite a few empty buildings around, newly constructed but not yet in use. He doubts there’s any security installed yet, so he should be safe to settle in and catch some sleep before the sun goes down.

Just as he turns the corner, he hears someone running. They’re behind him and he tenses, ready to disappear so they can’t get him.

It’s not Danny they go to. It’s Alfred.

“Hand over your wallet if you want to get out of here alive, old man!”

Shit, Danny thinks, spinning on his heel to get back to Alfred. He rounds the corner to see a mugger jabbing a gun at Alfred’s temple. He looks angry, nearly shaking, and there’s a strange shine in his eyes.

Drugs? No, not important. What’s important is that Alfred is standing still, as calm as ever, with his hands lifted in the air.

“Hey!” Danny yells, sprinting towards them, “Back the fuck up before I rip your tongue out!”

Fear and anger push him on, his Obsession whispering protect protect protect in his ear and he closes the distance between them.

The mugger barely has time to move the gun away from Alfred’s head, and no time at all to point it at Danny, before Danny tackles him, slamming him onto the ground. He rips the gun out of the mugger’s hand and tosses it carelessly to the side.

“Don’t touch him,” he hisses. Faintly, he’s aware that his features are shifting, becoming a little less human. The snarl building in his chest has his teeth sharpening, bared in warning.

The mugger trembles beneath him, thrashing weakly. “Alright, alright! Just lemme go! Let go!”

He doesn’t want to. Danny wants to hurt him for daring to go after Alfred, the one good light in the dark, the only person Danny cares about in this dimension. He wants to make this man regret his choices, make him terrified for the rest of his life, break every bone in his hand so he can’t ever pick up a gun again.

A hand drops onto his shoulder.

“That’s enough, Danny,” Alfred says. His voice is stern and Danny can’t help but listen, effortlessly pulled out of his adrenaline fueled rage. His humanity returns to him. “There we are. Come now, my boy, stand up.”

He stands. The mugger scrambles to his feet and runs away.

With the danger gone, Danny can think clearly again. He takes a few deep breaths and locks his ghost-half away as tightly as possible, keeping the cold in his chest buried deep. It was good for scaring away a mugger, but he doesn’t want Alfred to think he’s a monster.

He can handle a lot, but not that.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking over Alfred for any injuries. There’s no telling that was done to him before Danny got the mugger away from him. It may have only been a moment, but Danny knows very well how quickly a moment can change a life (or take it away).

“Quite. In fact, I am sure you are in worse shape than I am, at the moment.” Alfred gestures downwards and Danny follows his gaze to his knees, where his already worn jeans have new holes in them. His knees are skinned from how hard he slammed into the ground, a dull ache he hadn’t noticed until it was pointed out to him.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I can barely feel it.”

Alfred gives him a hard look, as though he thinks Danny is lying; he’s not, the pain is barely there. He’s had a lot worse in the past. He can handle skinned knees easily.

“Well,” Alfred says, “Thank you for coming back to help me. If there’s anything I can do to pay you back—”

“No. I don’t… I didn’t do it for payment. I don’t need anything.”

“I would like to—”

“No,” Danny interrupts again. “No payment. I just did what was right. Don’t make this a big deal, please.”

Alfred sighs. “Very well,” he concedes, looking more tired and worn than Danny’s ever seen him. “I shall not keep you any longer. Until tomorrow, Danny.”

He looks as though he expects Danny to take the out, to leave immediately. Danny shifts, not meeting his eyes as he doesn’t move.

“I’ll walk with you,” he mumbles. “So no one tries to hurt you again.”

Danny’s worried that Alfred will insist on going alone, that he’ll have to go invisible and follow along when he isn’t wanted, but Alfred is kinder than that. Alfred doesn’t refuse or insist he go on his own. No, he smiles and thanks Danny for his consideration before taking off, making sure that Danny walks besides him rather than behind him.

They don’t talk much. Alfred seems to know that Danny isn’t much for words at the moment, sticking to his side and constantly surveying their surroundings for any danger. He walks confidently through the streets as though he wasn’t just held at gunpoint, carrying on with his morning with the same stubborn spirit that keeps most Gothamites from giving up on their city.

Alfred visits a small bakery first. They’re not yet open, but the owner props open the door when they arrive, waving them in.

“Alfred!” she greets cheerfully, “And I see you have someone new with you.”

She looks expectantly at Danny, who shifts uncomfortably under the attention. He can’t get his voice to work, can’t figure out how to get the right words out.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred says, smoothly drawing her attention off of Danny. “This is Danny. We often talk in the morning and he has decided to accompany me today.”

“I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you! I’m Yurica. Alfred and I enjoy some tea together in the mornings before starting with our days. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t… mean to intrude,” Danny manages to say before Yurica waves off his hesitant refusal.

“Nonsense! Any friend of Alfred is a friend of mine. Come, come, let’s get the two of you seated. You’ll get the first picks of the day, once I get the last batches out of the ovens.”

She leads them into the bakery, past the kitchen and upstairs into a small sitting room. Danny follows them, unable to leave without seeming rude. He joins Alfred on the couch, awkwardly perched on the edge as Yurica bustles around, disappearing down the hall.

Distantly, he hears the sound of running water and a stove top being turned on. The clinking of cups follows, along with the opening and closing of cupboards. It almost sounds like home, when Jazz was setting herself up for a long study session to make sure she’s prepared for college.

Without noticing, Danny relaxes back into the couch. He keeps his eyes closed, just listening to the movement around the building; it’s soothing white noise that chases away the constant ache of loneliness he’s been carrying these past few weeks.

“Quite the relaxing home, isn’t it?” Alfred asks.

“You come here every day?”

“Not every day, but a few times a week. We’re old friends and are often up before anyone else. It’s nice to catch up for just a few minutes, especially at our age.”

He wonders if this is what it feels like, spending time with grandparents. He never met his own, could never relate to the kids who were always excited to spend time with their grandparents over the holidays, eager to be part of a bigger family. It was fine, before, when it was just him, Jazz, and their parents.

It was fine.

It didn’t last.

Yurica returns a few minutes later, carrying a tray full of cups and a teapot made to look like a fat cat. The sight of it makes him smile, almost distracting him from noticing the way Yurica and Alfred share a Look.

“Here we are,” she says, setting the tray down on the table. She lays out the cups before Danny can offer to help, pouring out fragrant tea with a steady hand. “Cream? Sugar?”

Alfred adds cream to his own cup while Danny shakes his head, quietly thanking her for the tea.

He cradles his cup in his hands, savoring the gentle warmth while Alfred and Yurica chat. He tunes them out, letting their voices fade into background noise.

This is the most relaxed he’s felt in months. It’s sad to think about, so he tries not to, but it lingers in the back of his mind.

Time passes without him noticing. Danny sips his tea until his cup is empty, then sets it down on the tray. That seems to be a cue that Alfred was waiting for, long done with his own cup, and he stands, thanking Yurica for her hospitality.

She waves it off with a smile before Danny can echo the sentiments, then ushers them downstairs, where trays of freshly baked pastries fill cover the counters of the bakery’s kitchen.

“Here, take your pick!”

Danny’s about to refuse when she shoves a paper bag into his hands. “Go on,” she says, “Take what you like. I always offer to friends and I find refusal to be rude.”

Now that she’s said that, Danny can’t keep refusing or he’ll feel awful. Alfred is already picking out a few pastries himself, so Danny trails after him, taking three pastries that look good. It’ll be enough to tide him over for the next two days, so he won’t have to steal any food.

“Thank you again, Yurica,” Alfred says, “It’s always a pleasure to chat with you.”

“Oh, you’re always such a sweet talker,” Yurica laughs. “I’ll see you again soon, Alfred. And you, Danny, are welcome here whenever. Even without Alfred. My doors are open to you.”

Yurica is kind. She sees him in all his scraggly, worn down glory, clearly homeless and with nothing to offer her, and she doesn’t turn him away. Instead she welcomes him in solely because he’s here with Alfred.

It’s enough to have him blinking back tears, ducking his head so they don’t see how much this affects him.

“Thank you,” he manages, then hurries to follow Alfred out the bakery.

Yurica waves at them from the door as they make their way down the street, then goes back in to continue preparing for the day.

Alfred walks around some more; he informs Danny that he has no errands to run at the moment and no one else to visit. Danny follows, keeping an eye out for anyone who might think Alfred is an easy target. He barely pays attention to where they go until they enter an underground parking garage.

The weak lights and stillness of the garage, along with the fact that it’s almost entirely empty, makes a fissure of unease race down his spine. This would be the perfect place for Danny to be knocked out and taken away; no witnesses, no help.

But Alfred wouldn’t do that. Danny wants to believe that Alfred wouldn’t do that.

He stops when Alfred pulls out a set of keys from his pocket. A black car in the back corner of the parking garage unlocks with a quick flash of the headlights. That is… an expensive looking car. It’s not an obvious luxury brand or anything, but it’s high quality and clearly made for people with money.

Guess being a butler pays well, Danny thinks.

Alfred opens the door, but doesn’t get into the car. Instead, he looks to Danny.

“Will you be alright, Danny? If you’d like, I have a first aid kit in the car that we can use to tend to your knees.”

“No, it’s fine. Thanks, though,” Danny says, trying to keep from tensing up too obviously.

“And you have a place to stay?”

“Sure do,” he lies.

“If you ever need help, you are welcome at Wayne Manor.”

Danny nods, intending to never go to the manor. He’s not going to risk another rich person trying to either 1) kill him or 2) make him their son. No way. Not in this dimension.

Alfred looks him over, then nods. He gets into the car, offering Danny a quick goodbye. Danny lifts a hand in return, then leaves the parking garage, holding his bag of pastries close to his chest. More people are starting to fill the streets, starting the day, and Danny still hasn’t found a place to hide until night.

He’s kept Alfred safe during his dawn walk. He’s safely delivered Alfred to his car so he can drive to wherever he needs to go.

There’s no point in him sticking around any longer.

Hood up, Danny hurries down the streets, ducking into alleys to avoid being seen by people. It takes half an hour to reach the empty buildings he was considering before, and then just a minute to go invisible and fly up to the roof. The door going inside is locked, but a little intangibility goes a long way.

Danny makes himself comfortable in one of the many empty rooms, back to the wall, and pulls out one of the pastries. It’s not as warm as before, but it’s still soft and flakey. The glaze on it sweetens the bread and it’s the best thing Danny’s had since he first arrived in this dimension.

This can’t go on, he realizes.

All this squatting and stealing. It’s just not sustainable. He’s been acting as if he’s died again, left to haunt the streets of a city he doesn’t belong in. He’s spent all his time either sleeping or wandering, wallowing in his own misery.

No more. This is a second chance.

There’s no ghost hunters. No GIW. No need to be a hero when so many already exist, willingly taking on that burden. Here, Danny doesn’t exist, which means he can be anyone he wants to be.

And in order to live this new life, he’ll need a job. He’ll worry about school once he’s able to save up some money and find a place to live.

Step one to getting his shit together: find a job that will take on a homeless teenager who doesn’t legally exist.

He’s already got one in mind; Alfred does keep offering to help in any way he can, and he’s made working as a butler sound fulfilling.

Serving isn’t quite protecting, but it’ll be close enough that he can satisfy his Obsession.

The pieces are falling into place. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes this plan.

He’ll ask Alfred about it when they next meet. Everything else can wait until then.

(“Are you sure you’re okay, Alfred?”

“Quite,” Alfred says, smoothly stepping away from Bruce’s fussing. “Danny scared the mugger away before he could do anything.”

“I’m glad he was there. Are you sure I can’t go meet him? Thank him in person?”

“You’ll only scare him away, I’m afraid.”

Bruce sighs, reaching for his cup of coffee. “What about as Batman?”

“That will only be worse, I’m sure. Not everything can be solved by putting on a mask, Master Bruce.”

Tim enters the kitchen, drops a tablet on the table in front of Bruce, then collapses into his seat with a groan. “I can’t find anything on him. Are we sure he’s real?”

“I assure you he is very real, Master Tim.”

Tim lifts his head to give Alfred a bleary, assessing stare. “I know we always rag on B about his adoption problem, but he got it from you. You’re not going to stop until you get this Danny guy into the Manor, right?”

“It’s either that or setting up a home for him in Gotham.”

“Bring him here,” Tim says with a yawn, putting his head back on the table, “Now I’m curious about him, too.”

“I shall do my best, Master Tim. I shall do my best.”)

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc fanfic #danny fenton #alfred pennyworth #my writing #fic #chapter one of three!! dont ask abt an update schedule. i dont have one and never will #i just want alfred to adopt danny. he found danny first in this one!!#i mean. bruce had to get it from somewhere #and that somewhere is alfred taking care of a child who suddenly became an orphan and had no one else #its a family trait really #butler danny au #alfred's apprentice au

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gayboysteve · 3 months

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Steve was created in service of Nancy's character journey in season one. Joe Keery was just pretty enough that he managed to snag a character arc of Steve's own. which ultimately drove them apart and forced them to grow outside of one another. I think Nancy is in a state of arrested development similar to Jonathan but not as bad as Jonathan. She's still stuck in her guilt and trauma over Barb, all they buried was an empty box containing Nancy's girlhood and innocence. The Nancy of seasons two and three is still stuck on those stairs. in season four she's learning now, through Steve and Robin, how to crawl forward too.

There's also a ladder motif with Steve throughout seasons 1-3. It's not intentional but it is interesting. Steve as a character is constantly climbing forward. He climbs up while Nancy stays stuck on the steps. Nancy is fully her own person but she's still trapped in that trauma and grief. In season four Steve doesn't have to climb anymore because by that point he's fully actualized. Now, Nancy just has to walk up and meet him.

With Steve, she doesn't have to just be a girlboss. And she never was some boring suburban girl. Nancy was always special to him. Different to him than other girls. (For good and bad.) He loved her kindness and how she cared and he just as much learns to appreciate her leadership and hard work in season four. When Jonathan talks about her initially he just sees her as some teenage girl just like all the others but he states it with derision. And when asked by Argyle what it is he loves about her, he lists all the ways in which she's proficient at her work, and how dedicated she is. While Nancy talks about Jonathan's personality (at least how she views it).

In season four Nancy gets to be a teenager with Steve (and Robin) again. She gets to recapture her lost youth before it's gone from her entirely.

It's another reason why people who don't like or refute anything about Stancy don't understand Steve and think that he's in constant torment over his past and who he was, that he should hold resentment to Nancy for breaking his heart. He isn't! And he doesn't!!! He doesn't hate himself for any past wrongdoings, he acknowledges them and talks about how they're necessary for change and growth, he sees that Nancy breaking his heart is part of that- whether from his mistakes or her own, and he doesn't blame her for it. He thanks her. Because it sucked but it was necessary to keep him from being stuck frozen in season two like she and Jonathan were. Nancy forced him to keep climbing.

And when Steve confesses his love to her it's without pretense or expectation. "I don't want anything from you, I just want you to know that you are loved". How much purer a form of love can one give? To love without pretense or expectation, only for the sake of loving. To love with eyes clear and kind enough to find pleasure in someone else's happiness even if it has nothing to do with you.

#nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stancy #robin buckley #jonathan byers #stranger things

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nerdpoe · 1 year

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Prefacing this with I haven't read the comics I just dip in and out like the canon is a pool and I'm trying to climb onto a pool floatie.

So y'all remember that weird fucked up mind game test Bruce pulled on Tim in the beginning of their bullshit? The real fucked up mindgame that made Tim quit being robin for a bit, before coming back and being all "I know I'm not gonna get an apology." And Bruce was all "good."?

What if Tim realized it for what it was.

Tim realizes the test is a test and decides to get back at Bruce in his own game.

Bruce wants to act like he doesn't care about him in an effort to protect himself from grief if another kid ends up dying? That's fine.

Bruce resorting to psychological mind games to drive Tim away from seeking any support??

Not cool.

Tim realizes, and pulls a Hamlet.

He likes Dick, doesn't want the man to go through what Bruce is about to, and goes to Bludhaven to directly tell Dick not to believe ANYTHING Batman says for a month if it relates to Tim, that he's gonna teach the old man a lesson.

Dicks like "uhhhhhhh okay? U know we can just tell him whatever he's done is wrong, right?"

And Tim's just "nah, I'm past that point. See u in like three weeks to a month. This conversation didn't happen."

He leaves a copy of Hamlet in his locker in the bat cave, the only clue he's gonna drop until all is said and done, and gets to work.

Pretends that Bruce's mind fuck has driven him mad, pretends that he's sneaking off to chase down leads, pretends to talk to people that aren't there, visits the joker just to learn how to mimic his laugh, (side bar, joker has no idea why the new robin is visiting him and disabling the cameras, or why the kid just copies what he says and when he laughs, but after like two weeks of it he may be slightly uncomfortable around the kid no lie) uses makeup to make his eye bags look worse and trashes his own house (his parents are gonna be so pissed but he's already angrier than they could ever hope to be, so they can suck it), acts so unhinged Bruce calls it off and tries to tell him the truth, only for Tim to pretend like he doesn't believe him and steal the robin uniform and run away, and then goes and sneaks away from his own house (he knew he was being watched) to a warehouse he predetermined with a conspiracy theory board and string in his room (he needs to make sure Bruce knows where Tim wants him to go) and the conspiracy theory is just an amalgamation of the bullshit Joker spews (again, joker is really confused by this strange child hero and very slightly unsettled, what the fuck Batman where the fuck did u get this robin, maybe return him to the robin store? This one's defunct), makes sure it's abandoned, and blows it to hell with the robin uniform inside

He knows Bruce will be too jarred, to lost in the major trauma buttons Tim is pushing with the warehouse explosion, to do a proper analysis. He KNOWS Bruce will want it done as quickly as possible, and try to bury Tim as quickly as he can. He knows his parents won't get any phone calls for at least a month.

Then he goes to ground for a week.

Walks back into the cave after that week, corners a grieving and broken Bruce, and asks him how he likes mind games now.

After all, it was just a TEST. There was no need to skip basic steps like DNA analysis, that's just SLOPPY Bruce.

Dick, who had been warned by Tim early on and kinda knew the kid was gonna pull a fast one of Bruce, had NO IDEA it was gonna be this depraved, and is very highly Shook. Nor did he realize Bruce had tried a mind game first, and is...disappointed but not surprised, really.

But holy shit Tim Bruce started at a 9 and you escalated to a goddamn 25.

Bruce, realizing that they may both be a bit fucked up, acquiesces to therapy. For all of them. Holy shit for all of them, because that was NOT a normal teenage response and he is beginning to sense some distinctly villainous red flags from this kid.

Next time the joker breaks out he flat out refuses to believe that Tim is a Robin, and joker is the one that starts the whole Cuckoo thing, and asks Batman if he's gonna send the kid to Arkham early or if this is a weird intervention program he's trying.

Then he tries to murder like fifty people cuz he's the motherfucking JOKER.

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purplelupins · 2 months

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Lamb

Midnight Mass

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Father John Pruitt/Father Paul Hill x Fem! Reader

Word count: 10k

Summery: An entire life of being a good girl was a difficult cross to carry...especially in a tiny town with 127 residents on a good day. You kept the town fed and spirits as high as you could, but when a new face steps off the afternoon Breeze, things around you start to change; you don't even know you're in the eye of the storm.

Warnings: nsfw, reader is religious, religious symbolism, ideology, explanations and general conversations of religion, age gap (like this man is 80 technically and he watched reader grow up, and can remember reader as a little girl so if that’s creepy to you then go no further), stalking, manipulation, murder (hello have you seen the show?), drinking of blood, hunting of a person, grief, ANGST, description of animal death, reader is described as blushing, character death, non consensual help showering, guilt and god maybe more but I think that’s it…this is not really a fix it fic

Notes: I’m sorry

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Sleep had evidently taken you during the night, though you couldn’t recall when. Sometime between you telling yourself it would all be alright, and weeping for God’s grace. Now as you opened your eyes, you half wished you hadn’t. You wished you had stayed asleep and let this tumultuous time crest over you.

They say God gives his hardest battles to his best soldiers.

You did not want to be one of his best soldiers that day.

You wanted there to have been no oil spill and for the Monsignor to come back and for Leezas accident to have never happened and for Joe to be sober and you wished you had a crush on someone when you were a teenager and you wished the world was kinder-

You wished so many things.

You only managed to pull yourself up from bed when your stomach curled painfully and begged for food at around 7:30am. You begrudgingly put your kettle on the stove, and stared out your front window.

A watched pot never boils, your mother used to say.

Does if you stare long enough, your dad would reply.

You face fell as you watched a stray leaf float past your window. Your eyes glazed over as you waited, and only refocused when there was more than just a leaf going past your window.

Erin Greene slowly walked past your house, white as a sheet, and you found yourself transfixed by her. She looked…disturbed. You had heard that she had gone to the mainland for tests, and you wondered if there was a complication with her pregnancy. Perhaps she had started taking morning walks to help…

It took a moment for you to decide to open your front door, and when you did she didn’t turn around. She was further away now, and you wanted to shout to her and ask her in for a coffee, but it was early, and you didn’t want to wake your neighbours.

You went to turn back inside- your kettle starting to whistle. But something lurched inside you then. This wasn’t you. The you that you knew would run out after her friend and check on her.

Without another thought, you were down your steps in a second and running down the road after her.

“Erin! Hey Erin!” You called to her.

Erin stopped and spun on you- her eyes red.

You were panting once you stopped, and you waited for her to say something, but went she didn’t you did. “Sorry I just…I’m making some coffee an-“

You were cut off by her wrapping her arms around you and hugging you close. You slowly returned it, rubbing her back. You didn’t know Erin very well outside of Mass or the odd conversation, but you almost felt a shock zap you when she held you. Like you connected to her somehow.

“Erin are you alrig-“

“Don’t lose yourself…” she said as she pulled away.

You stared at her and laughed nervously when she remained serious, “I don’t…what’s going on?” You asked. But when you saw that deep sorrow in her eyes, you stopped looking for a reason.

She shook her head. And sucked in a breath as she released you, “You’re smart. And you’re good. Don’t lose that. You have your life ahead of you.” She repeated, then squeezed your arms and left you there in the morning air with only your whistling kettle in your ears.

You didn’t remember eating, or drinking your coffee for that matter; but your sink full of dishes said otherwise. Erin had startled you terribly. While you could have chalked up her behaviour to her pregnancy, somehow you felt she was talking about something else entirely. It was as if she had embodied all the turmoil you had been experiencing, and had shown it to you.

Did she feel the same discomfort you had? Was this something not unique to you?

You downed a few more cups of warm drinks as you dwelled and thought. You thought about calling your family on the mainland…but they were always so busy. Instead, you sat and pulled the book you had borrowed from the Father and began to read it again. You found you had a difficult time keeping up with the book itself; the sequence of a man’s decent into Hell. It was morbid though fascinating to read…almost like a train wreck that you couldn’t look away from.

Eventually, you snapped the book shut and set it down beside you.

You didn’t know how to feel about it, and you didn’t like how heavy it weighed on your heart. Like somehow it felt all too real.

It was only when the old streetlights outside your house started to flicker on that you realized how late it had gotten. Still a few hours left before Mass. You reached for a record to play, and stared at the one closest to you. The same one you had listened to the night before the Crock-potluck.

You berated yourself for associating Father Hill with the record, but it had been such a significant night that it was difficult not to.

You mindlessly played it, and as the sound filled your home, you listened. Calm began to come over you, though you weren’t certain you liked that. Sure it was an old family record from the 90’s, and brought some nostalgia, but you didn’t find yourself thinking of your family.

You thought of how Father Hill had taken your sorrows and given them back in the form of healing. How he had taken your hand and walked you through your first confession in years. How he hadn’t judged you. How welcomed you felt.

Renewed.

How he had single-handedly entered your life and begun to mend it with such precision. As if he knew what you needed.

By the late evening you had eaten dinner and washed your dishes, brushed your hair and wrapped a warm cardigan over your spring dress. You admittedly looked a little less pristine than usual, but you tried to not let it bother you.

A breeze crept up your thighs as you began down your front steps, and you faltered for a moment. You opted instead to hop on your bike, and began pedalling down the road. Somehow you felt more at ease the faster you went, though you just assumed it was because it meant you would be outside in the cold less.

You greeted a few people as you went, and found yourself starting to calm down the closer you grew to St. Patrick’s. Then as you created the hill, you sighed in slight relief; as you slowed your pace to the side of the building, you caught the eye of Father Hill as he welcomed his parish inside as he almost always did. You sent him a small wave as you stepped off your bicycle and leaned it against the church.

“Evening Father Hill.” You said, coming up to the steps.

John smiled at you. You looked so fresh with your rosy cheeks and less neat hair.

“How are you, little one?” He asked you, focus purely on you for a moment as Bev welcomed the others who passed.

The endearment caught you off guard. More than off guard. It must have been a coincidence, but that was what Monsignor Pruitt used to call you.

You shifted a little but started to make your way past him, “I’m doing well, thank you Father. I hope you’ve been feeling alright.” You put a small smile on, though your stomach was still tight.

“Feeling even better now.” Father Hill said- the crows feet around his eyes deepening.

You nodded and quickly made your way up the stairs and inside the church to your spot on your pew. In some way it felt as if you were a little outside your body; your ears rang and you found your eyes flickering over the heads and faces around you. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and you had hoped it would pass when Father Hill started speaking, but it didn’t.

“I hope these last 39 days have been rewarding and regenerative for you all. We are here on the eve of Easter…we have all come so far together this year. When I first come here to this community, I didn’t see a failed island, no…no I saw what I know God sees and that is an island on its way to rebirth. Each and everyone of you have helped it get there too. You think you’re insignificant or that you’re just small cogs in a large machine, but you’re all so much more. You are representatives of Gods glory.” Father Hill started. You had noticed that for a few days now, his passion for his sermons had returned tenfold. And while his words still moved you, you couldn’t shake that feeling of disconnect. You felt like such an outsider that evening, and you almost checked around you to see if you had done something different.

While you tried to ground yourself, you stared at the wooden crucification of Jesus behind Father Hill as he spoke, and at some point your eyes blurred and for a moment you swore the idol and the man were one and the same. The visual was enough to make you frightened.

You looked away quickly, and focused instead on your hands. You looked at each line and your knuckles and picked at your nails and traced the veins.

Before you knew it, Mass was finishing, and you found yourself a little shaken. More than a little. You rarely tuned out a service, but the anxiety that curled in your muscles refused to leave you.

Shame prickled inside you, but somehow your trepidation overwhelmed it. You wanted to leave. Quickly.

You didn’t wait to speak to anyone that night, and certainly not Father Hill. If you were honest with yourself, you didn’t know what to feel towards that church or preacher anymore. All you knew was that you didn’t feel like yourself, and that the priest only seemed to enhance that.

You heard a few people call your name as you hurried outside, and as you were just about to grab your bike, there was one voice in particular that made your steps stutter.

But still you didn’t turn back, and only got onto your bike faster, and sped away until you were racing home like the Devil himself was licking your heels.

John Pruitt stood on the top step to bid his parish a good night, but as he stepped out into the cool air, he noticed one had already slipped by.

He called your name, and could hear your heart rate spike for a moment. He could hear you quicken your pace too. You were running from him.

Guilt and worry began to fill him. This was his fault entirely- he had been lacking in his guidance for you. You hadn’t had enough of the sacrament, and you were lost. That blood in your veins was a shadow of what you deserved.

John made up his mind. You would have the gift even if he had to give it to you himself.

No lamb left behind.

In the morning, you stared at the photo of you on Easter from when you were a child. The same one Father Hill had pointed out. Your hair in little pigtails and a carefree smile…that little dress that made you look like a doll.

Now as you stood there you were far from smiling, and instead found yourself fighting the nausea that stirred in your stomach.

In your hands was the book Father Hill had given you.

Dante’s Inferno.

You hadn’t finished it, and it didn’t feel right of you to have it. It didn’t feel right for you to finish it too. Like you shouldn’t know how it ends. The more you thought about it, the more you realised the same applied to your own future. You had no inkling as to where it would end up. At one time not too long ago you might have been fairly confident that you knew where you were headed or what you might do with your life, but now you found yourself unable to trust your own judgement. When had you lost your moral compass?

You swallowed and steadied yourself. Back to the task at hand.

You stepped out your door, book in hand, and began making your way through town to the rectory of St. Patrick’s. You told yourself you were just going to leave the book on the porch and walk away. No knocking, no visit, just simple and quick.

A few people stopped you on your walk to ask if you had been alright after last night. “You left in such a hurry after Mass, honey, just wanted to make sure if you were okay.” They would say.

And you were so well practiced with your sweet smile and unbothered tone that of course they believed you when you told them you thought you had left your oven on and raced home. You even earned a laugh from one of them.

You wished you could laugh as easily as them. Smile as easily. You wished you weren’t burdened with this disturbance.

In an attempt to make yourself feel stronger, you tried to put your shoulders back, and began to walk up the hill, but the closer you got, the smaller you felt. You felt very much like a child going to the principal’s office.

That dread that had been festering in your nerves peaked as your eyes fell upon the rectory. The lights were on. Somehow that made everything feel so much more difficult. Your nerves vibrated and seemed to shake in tandem with your hands.

You sucked in a breath, and held it as you pushed yourself to walk down the side of the church and to the small house. Quickly, and as quietly as you could. Things almost seemed hopeful as you went to place the book down on the porch, but just as you bent, the door opened, and you jumped.

You were frozen in place.

“Ah, Y/n. Can we help you?” Inside, you could see Bev was sat at Father Hills desk, while Wade stood, Dolly sat and Sturge held the door open. Father Hill was standing by his bookcase. The same one he had retrieved the book you held from.

You swallowed but tried to muster up that practiced smile to seem apologetic.

“So-sorry, I’m um…I just wanted to return this book to Father Hill.” You held the book up, and went to give it to Sturge, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

They were quiet for a moment, then Bev went to speak again, “Oh that’s just fine, Sturge why don’t you take the bo-“

“Please, you’re welcome to stay,” Father Hill cut her off.

You startled again by the sound of his voice. He was watching you. Had his eyes gotten darker? “…I think we were just finishing up.” He added.

Bev smiled tightly.

You didn’t.

“Oh that’s alright, I’m sure you’re all very busy with tonight and the sheriff is actually expecting me to talk abou-“ you tried, almost looking helplessly at Sturge and Dolly as they started to file out past you. You had hoped that using Hassan would gain you some credibility, though it seemed to fall upon deaf ears.

“Please…” The Father said again, now coming closer as he followed the group, though he stopped just at the edge of the couch, “I’d like to know what you thought.” He added with a small, quick smile that showed his teeth.

John didn’t like you avoiding him. He had nothing notable against the sheriff, but somehow you wanting to prioritize a meeting with the other person irked him when you had clearly walked across the island to see him. It was as if you were crying out for help, but refusing to let yourself follow through…

Do not deny yourself my lamb…let me be your guide…let me help you.

You felt your fingers go numb and your mind start to go fuzzy as Bev slipped past you and left you alone. That was the last thing you had wanted to happen.

You gaze was fixed on the older man before you, and he grinned and beckoned you inside. A chill ran down your spine. At one time he had been a beacon, but now you weren’t so certain. It was as if he knew you weren’t yourself. Like he knew you were having doubts.

“Come in.” He said, and gestured to the chair that Dolly had sat in.

You stood in the doorway.

John could almost taste your fear. He was losing you. Fast. He needed to help you find your way back to him.

“R-really it’s okay, Father…” you tried again, weakly.

“I insist.” He replied.

You sucked in a breath, and took the step inside. You knew you shouldn’t, and your gut screamed at you to leave.

You closed the door, and timidly walked further inside.

With the door shut, John walked over to you and placed a hand on your back to guide you to sit at the desk there he sat across from you.

“I didn’t finish it, Father.” You said honestly. You felt guilty for the look of surprise on his handsome face.

He blinked and nodded, “It’s a difficult read.”

You placed the book on the table in front of you, and slowly looked up at him. It was strange to not try and fill the silence, but you truly didn’t know what to say.

You’re scaring me, Father

I’m afraid.

Of course you wouldn’t say that to him but that was all you could think of.

“I want to apologise.”

You looked up at him. You hadn’t been expecting that.

“I- forgive me…I want to apologise for not being the guide you need. My health has been unpredictable for a while, and I haven’t been there. For you, and for many others.” He said gently, leaning forward to fold his hands on the desk.

You swallowed, “That’s alright, Father.”

He stared back at you then, thinking. Contemplating.

“How are you?” He asked after a moment of studying you.

He knows.

You clenched your hand.

“I’m alright, Father.” You whispered, not that you meant to.

“Are you?” He asked. The Father refused to take his eyes off of you.

You forced that sweet smile you had, and nodded, “Definitely.”

He knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows…

You put your hands into your lap to hide how you shook.

“Good.” Father Hill said plainly, “Off you go then…big night tonight.” He smiled a little.

You nodded and stood up a little too quickly, “Yes- yes for sure. Have a good day, Father.” You already started backing away, and he stood to follow you. You didn’t dare look away from him or turn your back on him…and you didn’t know why.

“See you tonight.” John called to you as you turned the door nob. He cursed his gift in that moment. How he couldn’t walk you out…just have a little more time to calm your anxious state.

You didn’t say anything, though you did nod and smile tightly as you opened the door.

You were out the door and down the steps and walking briskly away before the Father could manage to say anything else. The door barely clicked shut from how fast you left. You kept your head down and continued that way until you were home.

The tremor in your hands hadn’t stopped. You clenched and unclenched them in an attempt to remedy it but nothing seemed to stop it. You were troubled…so troubled.

You weren’t even certain if you wanted to go to the vigil anymore. All you wanted was for that feeling to go away.

But this was Lent.

This was Easter.

It was just an evening in the church, then after that you could keep your interactions with Father Hill short, and simple until he left and Monsignor Pruitt returned.

Your gut jolted at the thought of the younger pastor staying indefinitely.

No…no Father Pruitt is on the mainland…for…months.

You pulled your knees to your chest and gripped your rosary as the night grew darker. The shadows began to envelop you in their grasp, and you found you had never missed the sunlight so much before. The power had stopped working an hour ago, and you found yourself nervous to wonder why. Now the darkness around you seemed to weigh down on you. You muttered prayer after prayer as you contemplated going, but then suddenly you stopped.

The faint sound of singing reached your ears, and you walked to your bedroom window to look down. Sure enough, there were dozens of little lights being held by islanders as they sang their way through the roads. You turned away, and looked down at the rosary in your hand; it had cut you. You pursed your lips, then sucked in a breath, and descended your stairs to the main floor and grabbed a sweater before walking quietly out your door. Beverly was stood just beyond your gate, and she paused when you caught her eye.

“Good evening, Y/n, join us.” She beckoned you down with an outstretched candle.

And against your better judgement, you went to her.

You took the candle, and she patted your arm like she cared about you. “Bless you, my sister in Christ.” She whispered, then continued singing. The hymn was pulled from you like “Please.” and “Thank you.”- you didn’t even realize you were singing until you approached the church and your throat was growing tight. A tear fell into your cheek, and you didn’t bother trying to hide it.

Just one more night. Then maybe I can go to the mainland for a while…just one night.

St. Patrick’s glowed amongst the trees. Calling you all in. As you ascended the stairs, the glow of hundred of candles swallowed you whole. Your skin prickled at the warmth, and while you didn’t notice, your hands stopped shaking. The hard, old wood of your pew was supporting your weight as you sat without thinking. You found yourself in a slight daze as you looked from left to right to see the people around you. Faces you knew so well. It was only when you looked behind yourself that you jumped a little. Hassan was sat with Ali not far away, and while it was strange to see both of them there, you found that you grew calmer knowing your friend was there.

Both then when Hassan’s eyes met yours, you found that same look of disturbance there, and it was like a bucket of ice water. He didn’t look uncomfortable. He looked…worried.

You pursed your lips and looked around a little more, and noticed that Erin was back in her usual spot. You almost wanted to sit beside her to ask if she was alright after the last time you saw her that morning…but everyone was finished sitting, and you lost your chance.

It seemed your staring was enough to make her look in your direction though, and it was like looking in a mirror. She looked horrified. Terrified.

Something was wrong.

Any comfort you had felt began to wane. You both exchanged a look, and you suddenly wondered if you had been right; perhaps that underlying terror that had been poisoning you hadn’t been unique to you.

Both of you turned away from each other after a moment, and that feeling of solitude returned. Even amongst your community, you felt so very strange.

You slowly turned back and watched Father Hill take his place on the pulpit. His demeanour was so at ease now…he walked and stood like he belonged up there. You supposed he had been there for over six weeks…he had settled in.

You swallowed.

“This right now is one of the most beautiful things that I’ve ever seen. Now, some of you may have noticed that I’m wearing a gold chasuble tonight. I was actually wearing this on that first Sunday, the first day of the New Covenant. Bev called me out on it, in fact, and asked why I was wearing it on a day in Ordinary Time. And what I couldn’t tell her then, but what I can tell you now, is that I chose it because it was not an ordinary Sunday. Not even a little. And I had cause to celebrate, to rejoice. It was a holy day. And tonight will be different as well. Tonight is the beginning of a new era. And we are meant to celebrate the Resurrection tonight, and, and we will more than anyone ever has.”

You listened, staring at the pew in front of you. The man’s voice alone curled in your ear far too easily, and you didn’t dare look at him. Too afraid of what you might see or how you might feel.

“But first, bless me, brothers and sisters, for I have sinned. It has been too long since my last confession, and it is so long overdue, but here is my sin. I’ve lied to you all. I didn’t come here to replace Monsignor Pruitt. He isn’t recovering in a hospital in the mainland. He’s perfectly healthy.” He admitted.

At this, you looked up.

“He has been blessed. As you have all been blessed, he has been made well, made whole, made young, the same as you. He was healed long before you ever saw this face. He was the first, in fact, and he stands before you right now, asking for your forgiveness.”

For a moment, you looked from left to right at the front of the church, expecting to see the Monsignor, but then his words sunk in fully, and you grew pale. The realization fell from the base of your skull to the pit of your stomach like an iceberg. Cold paralysed your spine as confusion curdled to horror and ate at your bone marrow.

“Now, some of you must have thought it before, in the backs of your minds. Minds so trained by the world to ignore that voice, because how could it be? That would be impossible. But nothing is impossible with God. As we have seen. I was lost and confused, tired and old, on the road to Damascus when lo and behold, an angel of the Lord appeared unto me and bestowed upon me the healing graces of God. And I was restored, as you have all been restored. I returned to you all and I brought with me that angel of the Lord so that he might bless us all, and we have, we’ve seen the miracles. Our new bodies. The resurrection of the body, new and everlasting life. Now tonight, we will be tested, just a little, but we will be tested, as was Jesus. I was afraid when the New Covenant was fulfilled for me. Afraid as was our Savior, but “he who says he abides in Him, ought himself also to walk just as He walked.” “Be imitators of Christ.”I followed him into the valley of darkness, and like our Lord, I endured death. Mercifully short. A leap of faith, a step out onto the water, was all he asked of me. And, like Jesus, you will doubt, you will feel fear, but believe me, I promise you, brothers and sisters, if you follow me, if you follow us, if you follow Him, He will raise you again in His glory to eternal life. There is a price to be paid for everlasting life, as there was for our Savior. And each one of us will have the opportunity tonight to pay that price. But first and… I know after everything we’ve been through together, this is not easy to believe, so I invite you as Jesus invited Thomas to witness for yourself…Sturge?” He beckoned the gruff man over.

“And I John saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of Heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice out of Heaven saying… ‘Behold, the Tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them and be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more. Mourning and crying and pain will be no more. For the first things have passed away. And the one who is seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.'‘I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.To the thirsty, I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.'”

You watched, unable to look elsewhere. You half hoped this was some horrible dream you were having, fuelled by the discontent you felt. But as each second passed, the more you realised you were never going to wake up.

“This will be frightening for all of us, but, Sturge, my brother in Christ, are you afraid?” Father Pruitt asked him and he grasped the communion cup.

“No, Father. No, I’m not.” Sturge answered, so tamed.

I am! I am, Father! You shook.

“God be with you…” Father Pruitt murmured as Sturge drank, “I’m with you. I’m with you. I’m with him.” He cooed so gently that you actually started to feel a calm come over you, but it was gone again in a flash.

You watched Sturge jolt and grip his stomach; you jumped to your feet in horror.

“It’s all right. That’s okay,” the Father tried to sooth the crowd, but you only watched as Sturge began to cough blood all over himself, “It’s okay. It’s all right.”

The older man collapsed into the priests arms, and they both slowly lowered to the floor, “That’s all right. He’s all right. It’s all right.It will be over soon. It will be over soon.It’s all right.”

Father Pruitt cradled Sturge’s head as he convulsed, “It’s all right. Have faith! Have faith! Have faith, my brother. Have faith! It’s all right…This will be over soon. Soon. Soon.” He shushed him.

“Faith!” John cried, now looking up at the parishioners, “Just a few minutes! Just a few moments, really! The body is dead, but just for a moment! The resurrection of the body is what Easter’s about. That is what we are about to witness.”

You gripped your rosary so hard it dug into your fingers and carved into that spot it had already cut.

From behind you, you heard shuffling, and you turned to look. Hassan stood then, and gripped Ali’s arm in an attempt to pull him out the door, and you very nearly followed them, but you stopped cold when you looked past them and to the door.

“Sheriff, please. I…” Father Pruitt started to say, but as everyone turned to the door, a hush fell over the church. As your eyes focused there, you could taste your heartbeat.

There was no knowing exactly it was that stood there before you, but what it was…was evil. It was death, and pain, and forced that visceral sense of terror you had been keeping at bay to infect your sinew.

John straightened and stretched his hand out in welcome, “Behold…Lo… lo and behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to them. And they were afraid.” At his words, you dared to look away from the creature walking slowly through the church, and stared instead at the very man who you had begun to think was a true testament to the good of man. In the face of such harrowing calamity his smile was one of giddiness.

He was…joyous. Excited. Almost shaking as he beheld the beast perverting his church.

You stared at him. And as he smiled…you finally noticed how that smile was so much more dangerous than it once had been. Where it had once been one of wise luminosity, now it was one that could shred flesh from bone. Those sharpened peaks that sat just a little further from his other teeth. You wondered if he had practiced hiding them.

Then that dread that had seated itself in you curdled into anger. An anger so burning that your cheeks began to warm.

“Have faith, brothers and sisters. I would not make you see what you have seen, I would not ask you to choose what you may choose, without first showing you God’s messenger. And remember, brothers and sisters, have faith that in the Bible, every time they mention an angel, when an angel appears to we humans, we are afraid. ‘And an angel of the Lord appeared to them on the right side of the altar of incense.And when Zechariah saw him, he was terrified and overcome with fear.’”

You watched the beast unfurl two massive wings from under the chasuble. Gasps echoed around you, but you could barely hear them. You were lightheaded.

“Just then, an angel of the Lord stood before them. And the glory of God shone around them and they were sore afraid. And the angel said, ‘Fear not, fear not, be not afraid!'”

Just then, Sturge gasped and sat up. You jolted and almost fell back into your seat.

“And then they took away the stone from the cave where the dead man was lying.” Father Pruitt helped the man up and embrace him, “And Jesus looked up unto the sky and said, ‘Father, I thank you, for you have heard me. You have heard me.' ‘Thank you for hearing me.'” He sobbed.

Your skin began to crawl when you heard Andy start to play the organ, and Wade and Dolly leave to the vestibule. Leeza stood there, tears in her eyes.

These were not the people you knew.

You silently walked over to the girl and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, but she only wept harder.

“And he cried out in a loud voice! ‘Lazarus, come out!'And the dead man came out!” You saw the Scarboroughs hand out cups to each churchgoer, and a dolly even smiled at you as she handed you yours, “And his feet and hands were bound with shreds of cloth, and his face was wrapped in cloth, and Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him and let him go!'”

Bev, Wade, and Dolly all made their way through the parishioners, cups upon cups upon cups of liquid that made you more nervous than ever.

“ Brothers and sisters, you are so close to salvation. The miracle is already in you. The blood of the angel is already in your veins, but it is incomplete. The final transformation will not be yours unless you let your earthly body die, so that your divine body can awaken.” Father Pruitt pleaded, and the horrified knot that squeeze your stomach only tightened.

“One moment of faith. That’s the price God asks of us. Just one moment of courage. A small step out of the boat. Just onto the water itself. A small moment of discomfort. A small passion of our own. A gift offered up, and then we are reborn. Open your minds! Open your hearts! And listen to that voice. That voice in the back of your head. That voice the world has tried to silence, has tried to teach you to ignore! The voice of our angel, telling you, “Be not afraid.”

“No. No.” Hassan shook his head and gripped Ali’s arm, “Come on.”

You watched your friend try to pull his son out and away from the horrors, but Ali tugged, trying to stay back, “Dad. Dad! Dad! Stop! Stop!” He twisted free and stood away from his father.

Your heart broke. You couldn’t watch this. You put your cup down, and walked from Leeza and took Ali’s arm, but when you tried to reason with him to go with his father, Father Pruitt began to speak again.

You were silenced.

“Sheriff, Sheriff. I implore you not to deprive yourself. Not to deprive your son of the opportunity for salvation.” He said, hand outstretched to try and calm your friend. You held Ali, trying to inch him away from Father Hill.

You saw something change in Hassan then. Like something in him finally broke.

“Okay.” He muttered, then drew a gun from his belt and pointed it straight at Father Pruitt. You gasped, and pulled Ali but he stayed put as the priest stretched his arm out in front of you and the boy.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks as you watched helplessly. Guilt and fear began to bind itself to your tendons. You should have told Ali to stay away. You should have-

“Everybody stay back! Ali, come here right now. You’re coming with me right now. And if one of you fucking people come anywhere near my son!” Hassan spat.

You swallowed and turned Ali towards you, “Ali, Ali you need to go…please…listen-“ you tried, but he wasn’t listening.

Wade slowly began to walk out in front of the sheriff, and spoke so slow and dazed that you almost didn’t recognise him, “Hey, Sheriff, put that down. There’s no need to be waving a gun.”

Hassan raised his hand and shot the ceiling- everyone ducked in fear, cowering amongst the pews. You tried to pull Ali again, but he stood there watching as three men jumped onto his father and wrestled him to the ground.

You stared down at your friend as he struggled to look up at his son. You quietly begged Ali to listen to you, but there was a strange smile on his face. Your words weren’t being heard by him.

He was gone.

“How dare you?” Bev sneered, slowly walking down in front of the sheriff, “How dare you bring a firearm into the house of God!”

She turned then, on Ali and her violent face turned gentle, “Blessed are you, my son, for setting an example of courage. This young man is choosing God in the face of pressure from his own father.That we should all be so fearless. Thank you. For setting an example…Welcome, my son.” Said, handing him a cup just like the one you had been handed.

You went to take Ali’s arms again to stop him, but just as you went to move, your shoulders we enveloped and tugged back by large hands. You were walked backwards, firmly but gently, out of the way, “Shh…it’s alright. This is a blessing…” Father Pruitt whispered in your ear and he kept you away from the boy. You struggled against him, but you couldn’t even move under his strength.

“Let- let me go-“ you tried. But if what he said before was true- he was far stronger than you, and you were only wasting your energy.

“It’s okay, little one…it’s okay…” his voice might have eased your worry at one time, but now you found it sending your mind into a panicked frenzy, “Have faith.”

You could hear the horror and heartbreak in Hassan’s voice as he pled with his son, “No, Ali. Hey, look at me.” He struggled just as you did, “No.”

“Ali-“ you tried to get his attention, but he was already raising the cup to his mouth.

“I choose God.” He decided.

You struggled harder, twisting and turning to no avail as he tipped the cup and swallowed the contents.

The rest was all white noise. Father Pruitt released you slowly, and you wriggled away to run to the nearest person. Begging them not to drink. Most were tentative, and you were stupid to hope that meant they wouldn’t do it. But one by one, despite your pleas and a few others, they drank. You watched as Dolly stood with Leeza and drank. You rushed over to them and pulled the young girl away from her mother as she collapsed and turned her away when she convulsed.

Faith. Faith. Faith…

You could hear the Father repeating that word.

You felt Warren take Leeza and guide her back further away from the scene unfolding around you. You let him.

So many of the people you held dear drank and died before your eyes. Men, woman, children, elders. You knew you couldn’t do anything. You wanted to curled into a ball and sob.

Faith! Faith! Faith!

“When he raised them up, and carried them on eagle’s wings and brought them to himself!” His was elated to see so many accepting the gift. John stood and couldn’t help the smile on his face as he reassured his flock.

Everything seemed to slow down then. Your eyes were nearly glazed over as you watched Mildred Gunning stand and stare down the priest. You still held Leeza with Warren, and you both tried to figure out what she was doing, though it seemed she answered your question for you when she gripped the Sheriffs gun in her hand.

Your ears rang as a shot rang out.

Your tongue went numb when you saw the bullet tear a hole through John Michael Pruitt’s head.

He collapsed.

Panic rose in you again. It was second nature to want to check on the Father, but you shoved it away; he had trained you so well…preyed on your giving nature. But everything came rushing back to you when that winged creature screeched and tore Mildred from the church; her screams filling the air.

Somewhere across the church, Sarah was sobbing for her mother. The kind of cry that chilled your blood. You found her in the row next to you being held back by Erin.

It was silent…so silent aside from her sobs. All around you were bodies of the people you knew and loved. Gone in minutes.

Was this what was to become of Crockett Island?

You felt fear begin to drain from your body then.

This was your fate.

You were going to die.

That realization made everything so much less paralysing.

But you certainly were not about to be dinner.

“Close the doors. Close the doors!..Lock them!” Bev shouted as she knelt beside Father Pruitts body, “He is okay. He will be okay. He will heal. That is part of God’s miracle!His miracle which some of you would destroy!”

You turned and watched Bev cradle the priest’s head and speak to him so gently. She spoke to him like a mother might her child; you had never seen her care so much for another person.

You realized then that she was just as lost as the rest of you. He was her Jesus. She put her faith in him and made him her idol.

Gods army. He had called you all gods army.

But he had made an army for himself, with him at the centre of it.

“Hold him down.” She snapped to the men gripping Hassan still. You turned back to stare at him, “What is wrong with you? Spitting in the face of such a gift! Remove the sheriff. Take him out back. We’ll need… We’ll need food soon.” She seethed.

You felt dizzy. Your ears began to ring again, and though you saw Bev’s mouth moving, and the look of fearful realization that Sturge was staring at the blood on her hands, you couldn’t hear.

You saw Ali awaken, and felt sick at the look of euphoria on his face.

Then, one by one, the bloodied bodies around you began to twitch and groan. You couldn’t feel your toes, and you wondered if you had somehow died along with them and were floating off the ground. Just as slowly as they rose up, your hearing returned too. Though you wished it hadn’t.

“Mommy?…Mommy?” You heard Leeza cry as Dolly slowly stood.

“Leeza…” she whispered. You watched, gut twisting horribly as Dolly’s expression was nearly blissful. You had watched blood erupt from her lips just minutes ago…yet here you were now staring at her as she regained her footing.

You looked this way and that, and while the people you once knew were indeed standing, there was something in them that wasn’t quite as it should be. Something…something-

Magnetic. That was what you had first thought of Father Pa-

John Pruitt.

You corrected yourself mentally. There was no Paul Hill.

Another lie from a pious man.

Then after another few minutes came the begging. The “Please don’t hurt me.” And “Mommy it’s me.” And the calling of names. The crying. The screams. All at once. It was so loud; you could hardly think. Impulse and instinct kicked in when Sarah came to you and Leeza and helped you tear her away from Dolly as she smelled her daughter’s neck.

You were pushed and shoved amongst the chaos of it all until Hassan grabbed your waist and pulled you through to the church vestibule, then hauled in Sarah and Leeza and Annie and Erin. You all piled into the small room and knocked into the wall and the table. You heard Annie sob for Ed as the door shut…and your heard broke even more.

After a second, you looked around to see tins of rat poison on the table. But it wasn’t that that made you go stock still. It was the cowering figure of Bev Keene at the end of the room that made you all stop.

“That’ll all be over soon. And they’ll all wake up, eternal.” She said like she was trying to justify the hell on Earth that was unravelling just feet from you.

“You hid?” Sarah asked in disbelief.

Then as you all stood in silence, Bev caught sight of the gun Erin held in her hand, “What are you gonna do, Erin Greene?Guns? Those things don’t matter anymore, “she egged her on, “Not in the new world. The world without death. You could shoot me right now. It would mean I’m five minutes behind-“

Erin fired, and the bullet tore right through Bev’s chest.

You all stood there stunned.

“We have five minutes.” Erin said calmly.

And just like that, you all ran.

Keeping off the main roads seemed the best route, so you sprinted through the trees and tall grasses into the heart of the island to get some distance. After several long, exhausting minutes, you all seemed to slow and duck into a thicket near town square.

“We need to get to the boats…” Annie panted.

Hassan nodded, as did you, but Erin and Sarah shook their heads, “They’re not working. Sturge disabled them all.” Erin looked out over the landscape.

“How did…?” You started to ask.

“We…we knew something was wrong…tried to leave this afternoon but it was too late.” Sarah chimed in grimly.

And suddenly, you felt as if you could weep. You weren’t crazy. It wasn’t just you who didn’t feel right.

“Anyways…we’re going to have to figure out a strategy. We can wait them out until morning…then we can radio for help.” Erin sighed.

“Erin?” You asked, and she turned to you, “I don’t think you should be running so much what with baby-“

“She’s gone.” Erin muttered.

You went pale, eyes wide. Sarah nodded in your peripheral, and you felt your gut twist painfully, “I’m- I’m sorry.”

“Better than her getting stuck on this fucked up island.” She shook her head.

“We should burn down any empty houses…try to warn as many people as we can.” Hassan said. His voice was thick with emotion, and it took all of your strength to not hold him and weep.

Instead, you nodded.

“Y/n, you take Leeza and Warren to the Uppards…hide there. Take one of the row boats out into the water if you need to.” He stared into your soul, and you nodded.

“I want to help-“ you tried.

“You will be. Keep those two safe.” He said, and you finally nodded.

“Atta girl.” He said, “Alright…Annie let’s go find some fuel.”

Your throat went tight when he spoke to you, and you could feel yourself on the cusp of hyperventilating, but you forced yourself to ignore it. You all stood up together, and you gathered the traumatised teenagers. You all stood there for a moment looking eachother over.

“Be- be careful.” You forced out as tears began to rise in your eyes.

“You too.” Annie smiled tightly, and kissed Warren’s head, “I love you my boy.”

No one hugged aside from Annie and her son, no one said much of anything. There was so much you all wanted to say to each other but there were not enough words to say it. You cast Hassan one last look and offered him a small, tight smile before your groups parted. He returned it with a nod, and you patted his arm before you grabbed the children by the hands and began leading them back towards the church to get to the Uppards.

Once you were halfway through your journey, something caught your attention, and you quickly yanked both teenagers down u to the high grass with you for cover.

“What’s wro-“ Warren started to ask, but you put your finger to your lips for him to be quiet, and you all listened. You could hear feet on gravel. Several pairs of feet…meandering down the road not far from you. You felt a wave of nausea crest through you. They let them out of the church.

On the loose to feed.

Adrenaline had been pumping in your bloodstream for well over an hour now, and it told you to run. That you could make it- that they wouldn’t catch you. But you weren’t about to risk it…not with Leeza and Warren with you.

Minutes ticked by, and your muscles ached from being in the same position, but after a long while, you didn’t hear anyone else. You smile rose your head up and sighed a breath of relief that was short lived. Just moments after you had deemed it safe to run, a new sound reached your ears.

Faint screaming.

You turned and looked back towards the town. Small plumes of smoke had begun to spiral into the sky. You sucked in a breath, and steadied yourself before taking the hands of the teenagers and pulling them up and began running again. You moved deeper into the trees, and twigs scratched your legs and face as you pushed on, gasping for breath as you tasted iron.

Tears began to sting at your eyes again. You wished you could have told your friend’s how much they meant to you. That you would see them after. But it all seemed so empty in hindsite. Even just telling them that wouldn’t have been enough.

As the three of you began to pass the church, you slowed your pace amongst the trees to stare at the glowing building.

You didn’t know why you needed to go there, but you felt that pull inside you.

One more time.

“What is it?” Leeza asked when she noticed you had stopped.

“Nothing. Go. Go I’ll meet you there okay?” You whispered, “If I’m not there in twenty minutes, you push one of the rowboats into the water and you get out into the bay, and you pray to God. Okay?”

They both nodded, and you returned the gesture before shooing them away. You watched them go for a few minutes- the sound of screams growing more constant all around you.

The possibility of death was not so horrible as you strode through the woods that thinned at the back of the rectory. You had accepted your likely death back when you had been sitting on your pew.

Be not afraid…

How ironic that indeed you no longer held any fear for your end.

You slowly walked through the grass, down the side of the church, and up the stairs. With each step you saw more and more of the remanence of the carnage that had taken place. Bloody handprints streaked the doorway and the floor, and various articles of clothing were left strewn around. You looked at the pews that you had sat in since childhood, and at the windows that you used to stare out of. A flood of memories you had from St.Patrick’s invaded your head, and you felt a single tear roll down your cheek.

Your gaze moved down the aisle, taking in what was left of St. Patrick’s. Then as you reached the stairs of the pulpit, you stopped.

There sat John Pruitt and Mildred Gunning, both staring back at you.

You sucked in a breath.

There were no words you could say to that man. Not anymore. You might have spilled your heart out to him at one point not long ago, but whatever it was that you needed to say to him didn’t matter anymore.

John heard a heartbeat approaching from outside, and waited as it approached. He felt his gut twist at the prospect of it being lost islanders who didn’t understand what was happening. How did this all go wrong?

But he wasn’t prepared for it to be you. There was so much he needed to say to you…so much you needed to know, but he had never seen you cast such a cold look before.

Father Pruitt went to stand, “Y/n-“ he called to you, but you were gone just as fast as you had appeared.

Hearing him say your name was like a blow to your stomach. You spun around and bolted outside and into the bushes to save a life you barely had. Your lungs burned painfully but you didn’t dare stop running until you were on the sand of the Uppards. The trees thinned into high grasses, and you slowed your pace as you walked out to the shore. You looked out at the water, and saw Leeza and Warren in a small boat in the water. You saw them spot you, and you waved, which they returned.

You thanked God that they were safe.

There was still a couple hours left before sunrise and the safety it brought you, so you found a softer patch amongst the thick brush, and you sat down. Either you would be found and killed, or you would live another day. There wasn’t a great deal you could do to avoid the former, so you waited.

Waited for that sunrise of revival that you used to love as a little girl.

You rocked back and forth, and sang gently to calm yourself as the world began to glow. Smoke from the town had begun to fill the air, and you wondered if you would be able to say hello to your friends again. You were anxious to walk back into town; you just wanted to know who survived. You needed to see Hassan to radio for help or see if he had any connections to the coastguard. You knew he would be alright…he had to be. Even if he was turned you were certain he would try to help you get away.

You stayed in your place until Leeza and Warren returned back to shore. The sky was a bright blue then, with fading pinks and oranges- colourful just like the Easter eggs you used to hunt.

The teenager’s eyes were just as bloodshot as yours, and you were certain there were no more tears left in you to cry.

The three of you began walking back down the island. You tried not to focus on the blood stains in the dirt and grass every so often, and the other two didn’t seem to wish to comment on it either.

You came to the church, and the other buildings there, and noted that the windows were all covered and boarded up aside from the rectory.

You looked back at Leeza and Warren, and they both stared at the buildings, lost. You knew what they were thinking. “Our parents are in there.” But they didn’t say it. You pursed your lips and began guiding them along, down Main St.

The closer you got to the town, the more bodies and…remains you saw. You steeled your nerves and kept going, hoping and waiting to see someone else alive.

Various buildings were still smouldering. You walked past the general store, and stopped short when you came to your little shop. Or what was left of it.

You thought you might burst into tears at the sight, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. You couldn’t feel anything. It wouldn’t matter if you did or didn’t. Everything was gone.

“Warren?” You muttered.

“Yeah?” He said, tearing his eyes from a bloodied shirt on the ground.

“You know where my house is right?”

“Yeah it’s-“

“Go there.” You breathed out, “Check if the windows are covered…if not, go inside and wait for me. Don’t go anywhere else. There’s food in the fridge.” You gave them both a tight smile and ushered them away. Leeza took his hand and cast you one last look before hurrying to keep up with Warren’s stride.

As they disappeared down the road, you started to look around the town more carefully. You weaved through buildings and along the shore, calling out for anyone.

“Hello? Hello!” You yelled as you trudged along the sand. But on seagulls cawed back to you, “Hassan?” You tried.

You walked further, and came to a pause as you stared out over the water. You had always liked how quiet Crockett was, but now it was silent.

You sighed, and turned back towards the bushes to find a break in them so you could survey the damage further. Just a few meters away there was one, and you began trudging towards it. But as you grew closer, your steps slowed.

There was a body lying there.

You hadn’t noticed that you were walking again until you stopped cold. You had thought that you couldn’t feel your stomach drop anymore, but it seemed that you were able to one more time.

It was the blue denim jacket that stopped you.

You knew that jacket. You saw it almost everyday. You made jokes about that jacket.

“No…”

You took the remaining steps to it, and collapsed to the ground- knees colliding with the earth painfully.

Your friend. Your coffee buddy. Your ally.

Hassan Al Shabaz.

Your throat was tight and dry as you wept. Rivers of tears flooded your cheeks as you knelt over his body, and gripped his limp arm.

“Wake up…Hassan wake up…pl-please…don’t leave me alone…” you sobbed, shaking him.

Out of everyone you thought he would be the last to go…and never like this.

You wished you had told him what a wonderful father he was. You wished you had hugged him. You wished you had told him that he did all he could and that was enough. You wished you told him he was loved by God. You wished you had been able to say goodbye.

You wished none of this had happened.

You wished John Pruitt had stayed lost in that desert. You wished you had told him to leave and never look back.

You wished you had done better.

But now all you could do was roll him over, and push his hair from his face. You took a shuttering breath when your eyes caught the bullet wound in his stomach with the halo of blood around it that saturated his clothes.

You could have sat there until night fall to let the islanders have you. But you knew Leeza and Warren were waiting for you, and you were going to keep them safe.

When you walked to your house, Warren asked you what you were doing as you grabbed your shovel. It only look one grim look for him to understand.

“Need a hand?” He asked you.

You shook your head, and walked back to where your friend laid. It took the remaining daylight for you to bury him. You placed a halo of stones around his grave, and retrieved a photo of him with Ali from their house. You placed it directly over him, and let out your last few tears before returning home and reinforcing your house.

It took an hour past sunset for the power to be restored. You hid in the basement that night. You could hear the Flynns and Scarboroughs pounding on your door begging to see their children. But they didn’t break the door down. They understood.

It wasn’t until a couple days later that the islanders got the kids.

You were out during the day when their parents called your landline, begging for them to see them. It was likely with good intent, but while their parents might have meant well, there was dozens and dozens of hungry islanders who didn’t.

You had felt so numb when you returned to find them gone.

You would survive purely off the idea that one day your rage would be witnessed by the man who made your life putrefy from the inside out.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@littleredwritingcat @zaunite-leo @f4er1e-g1rl @purplemotif @vampyre-kin @professional-sinner @hamishlinklaters @spacechupss @pansexualpamandabear @ebiemidnightlibrarian @erialuna @nilla-bear @vintageglassheart02

#midnight mass #father paul hill #hamish linklater #father john pruitt x reader #father paul hill x reader #midnight mass fanfiction #flanaverse #father john pruitt

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 5 months

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one of my batfam hot takes is that alfred having a very kind and understanding grandfather-like role is a boring spin on the character and lacks a lot of nuance around his backstory.

like he is a classically trained british butler which means he very likely comes from a working class family. and like, as a working class brit myself, i sometimes find the kindly, well-mannered grandfather thing grating because, a lot of white, working class men his age are unfortunately not nice people. some of them are like my great grandad was a really great guy, but hes really the only one i know who is or was not awful.

because their generation werent as exactly raised with ideals about mental health and emotional regulation. a lot of them were traumatised due to ww2 either because they saw it firsthand when they were like 15, they were old enough to remember things like rationing and the blitz, and a lot of them lost their dads in the war.

i dont expect american writers to understand how much ww2 affected britain (modern britain is still so steeped in it, its insane) and that generation specifically, BUT id love to see that explored more with alfred. like depending on where he grew up, he would likely have been separated from his family during the blitz and sent off to the countryside like most of the kids in cities were, (this is how narnia starts) and like, a lot of them were horrifically abused or used as free labour. a lot of them also lost parents and never got to say goodbye to them. many came back to destroyed homes. some kids also remained in the city or their parents requested them back so theyd experience the blitz first hand and would know the sign of air raid siren meant they might die that night.

you can see how a lot of that generation were permanently scarred. and for a few decades now, alfred would have been part of that generation.

plus he was also a secret service officer which is just like more opportunities to be traumatised and more reason for him to not be this gentle old man whos in touch with his emotions.

and like, as a classically trained butler, he would likely be more reserved because you know, thats how he was trained. also british men that age would also likely be very hands off in regards to emotions.

but the biggest reason as to why the gentle, kind grandfather take doesnt really make sense is that he raised bruce wayne.

like bruce has a whole slew of emotional issues and problems, and obviously some of that is going to come from alfred raising him because you know, thats kinda how that works. i know a lot of batfam folks want bruce to be this great dad, so i guess their take on alfred fits that, but canonically, bruce wayne is an emotional mess and not the best father figure at the best of times.

you cannot look at that bruce wayne and tell me alfred did a good job.

listen, this shouldn't even be a hot take. it's just an opinion that differs from the most popular interpretation of Alfred as an endlessly giving grandmotherly old man.

the thing about Alfred is that more than anything you have to recognize that he's an enabler. and I love the man to pieces, but at absolute best he was extremely negligent in Bruce's upbringing, if not actively encouraging the world's worst coping mechanisms.

I hate to give Gotham credit for anything, especially when it comes to Alfred since I hate their Alfred, but the show was bang on in its insistence from day one that Alfred should not have been Bruce's primary guardian. it's painful to watch how often Alfred encourages Bruce to tough it out and suck it up, and it never really stops. in one of the latter seasons (four, I think) he hits Bruce hard enough to give him a black eye during an argument, and this is ultimately written as a situation in which Bruce needs to apologize to Alfred for being a bratty teenager, rather than Alfred owing Bruce an apology for hitting him when he's a grief-stricken teenage boy cracking under stress.

and like, listen, I understand there are Watsonian and Doylist layers to this. Alfred fundamentally can't have been a good enough guardian to stop Bruce from channeling his trauma into fursuit vigilantism, because then there's no story. I get it.

but jesus christ.

I don't think characterizations of Alfred as a stoic caregiver are wrong, but I do think people don't want to think about how he got there. when I see the aged Alfred patching up Bruce's wounds and nagging him to eat, or doing his best to offer advice to the kids who have gotten mixed up in Bruce's crusade, I see a man who realized a long time ago that he dropped the fucking ball and has dedicated his life to doing as much damage control as possible. okay, so, completely failed step one (raise a well-adjusted child). can we at least make sure that this basket case adult man doesn't go completely over the edge? can we make sure he doesn't become a killer? can we encourage him to take off the mask and be Bruce Wayne sometimes? can we keep the children safe?

I do think Alfred loves all of them, for whatever its worth. his care for Bruce is real, that is his son, the Batgirls and Robins are his extended family. he'll cook their uneaten meals and clean the entire, massive house himself and stitch them up every night forever. he would die for them. hell, he'd kill for them. he loves them. but none of that means he raised Bruce right.

that's kind of the thing I like most about the Bats: they all care so, so much. but the way they love is terrible.

#alfred pennyworth

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teengriefsucks · 1 year

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It sucks. It sucks that Christmas isn’t like what it used to be. It sucks that I have a hard time enjoying the celebrations because I know it can’t live up to my memories of Christmas as a kid. It sucks that Christmas morning is sad now, because my dad and stepmom both passed away, and all of those good memories I have with them are now surrounded in grief and sadness. It sucks that Christmas, and all of the other holidays I used to love, just feel empty at times, now.

#teen grief #teen problems #teenager mental health #teenage grief sucks #teen grief quotes #griefawareness #grief recovery #dealing with grief #grieving #mental health stuff #mental health #mental health support #sad quotes #sad thoughts

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fallinforerling · 1 year

Text

LOVE ISN’T ETERNAL. chapter 4 - jb

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The weekend arrived without any nasty surprises, which was very much appreciated. Jobe was still a bit bitter towards Jude for all the lies he told the family, but you convinced him to not pick any fights with his brother. Jude didn't deserve it, but you still cared about his family dynamic staying the same regardless of how he managed the breakup and everything that came after it.

Now you were laying in bed, not having the energy to do much. It's not like you were allowing yourself to be consumed by the grief or sadness (which you still felt), but you were a bit apathetic. Luckily, Nikki and Mia were coming over to help you with that.

“I want this to end.” You whispered after a while, wanting to say something to fill up the silence in your apartment.

Because you truly wanted to get over him. Why bother grieving him? He has been partying and probably sleeping with girls every night since his arrival to London. And what were you doing? Missing him? Wishing he’d call? Having insomnia?

“Fucking prick.” At least insulting him was good therapy.

Before you could enter the space of mind where all you did was hate him and his existence, your phone started to ring. The only connection to the outside world this past week and a half was that little device.

Nikki was calling.

“Yeah?”

“Check my chat, girl. This is fucking insane. Go! We're almost there!” And then she hung up.

“What's up with Nikk and hanging up after saying things like that?” You laughed, expecting something funny or a photo of them. But no, it was a Twitter thread. When you clicked it, you almost had a heart attack.

“The fuck is this?!” You screamed.

The author of the thread simply wrote: “Jobe's new girlfriend???? I'm so jealous, who is sheeee???” followed with four photos per tweet. They were from the park meeting just a few days ago. There were photos of you hugging, when you were sitting together and when you started to leave the park.

At least it wasn't going viral, but there still were lots of people interacting with it. They were trying to guess who you were and for how long you two have been “dating”. A nightmare.

This had never happened in the ten months you dated Jude, mostly because privacy was important to him... And now you were mistaken for his little brother’s girlfriend? You felt like having a panic attack, but your front door opened and closed loudly, interrupting your thoughts.

“Did you see it?” Mia said, entering your bedroom after a few seconds.

“How did you find it?”

“Oh, you know I love gossip. I was digging for some information and I came across it. Did you see the date? Someone posted it three days ago.” Nikki sat next to you, biting her lip.

“Yeah…” Your brain started to analyze how it happened… Who took the photos without you noticing? The park was almost empty the whole time. Unless… “Fuck… I know who took those photos.”

“Who?” Mia asked with apprehension. “Someone we know?”

“No, far from it” With a sigh, you sat. “We met at a park near here. I've always liked that place because most of the time is empty… But that day I spotted a group of girls near us; I didn’t even payed them attention, they were far enough to not eavesdrop.” You covered your eyes, feeling frustrated. “They were teenagers, so of course they took the opportunity when they recognized him.”

“Yikes, girl… Someone’s going to cancel you for dating a minor.” Nikki joked, winning a very small smile from Mia and you.

“That’s not funny, my god.They probably will if they ever find who I am and my age.” You sighed, absolutely sick with the path your life was taking. “Why can’t I have one day of peace, huh? Life sucks.”

“Of course it sucks, that’s the main thing about living,” Mia said, sitting in your bed. “Well, let’s pray for that threat to die soon enough. You know how people are, they’re probably hunting for the next big gossip of the week.”

“Yeah…” You grabbed your phone again, thinking about your next move. “I probably should send this to Jobe as well, I don’t want him to be taken by surprise if people begin asking about this.” A tiny smile peaked between your lips. “And let’s hope the girl he likes doesn’t find it either.”

“Do you know what else you need to start doing?” Nikki said while you send the link to Jobe, who started to laugh about the ridiculous assumption those girls made about you.

“What?” You asked without paying much attention, smiling a bit when Jobe started to call himself Mr. Steal Your Girl.

“Being a soulless, heartless, and cold girl for once. What about some clubbing, some fun… Some boys?”

“You’re like the devil on her shoulder, Nikk,” Mia said, nudging Nikki’s arm. “But I agree, you need some fun. We forbid you from staying at home, drowning in your sadness. That boy doesn’t deserve it.”

“Not one bit,” Nikki replied, hugging you. “I promise it will be super fun, just go out with us tonight.”

Instead of responding, you took a look at the ground. There it is. You knew them too well, there was no way for them to “casually” suggest a night out; they had a plan. Their bags were on the floor, but you noticed a small bag that Nikki only took out of her house if she was planning to party: her makeup bag, which was essential if she was going out clubbing.

“Are you trying to persuade me into partying tonight?” You smiled, not even mad at the idea.

“Maybe?” Both of them said, trying to look as innocent as possible.

The three of you looked at each other with big smiles before laughing.

“We’re going out tonight!” Mia screamed, gaining more laughs from Nikki and you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The fun part about going out with Mia and Nikki was the part previous to the actual clubbing. There just was something magical about getting ready with them: the makeup with the collaboration of everybody, constantly changing outfits, Nikki persuading both of you to drink a little bit for good luck and Mia insisting that all of you needed smoky eyes, so guys felt intimidated. Most of it was nonsense, but they were your best friends in the whole world and you always felt extremely thankful for their support.

“Promise me you’re going to at least try dancing with the hottest guy that approaches you tonight.” Mia said while doing your smoky eyes (yeah, you gave in).

“I’ll try.” And you will because it wasn’t fair for you to stay in your comfort zone. If this whole thing didn’t cheer you up or make you feel better, then you could always find other ways to keep your mind occupied.

“That’s more than enough for me. Try to have fun, this is a girl’s night.”

“And talking about girls. Put this dress on, the girls look stunning in it.” Nikki dropped a black dress on your lap.

“No way!” You lifted it with a smile. “I completely forgot about this dress. I haven’t worn it since…” You paused, feeling uncomfortable. “Uh, Jude’s birthday.”

“Well, who cares about that? You still look amazing.” Nikki smiled, obviously not about to let you think much about Jude.

“Done!” Mia said after a few seconds, biting her lip. “This is my best work so far.” Her eyes were sparkling, so you believed her.

Facing yourself in the mirror, you almost didn’t recognize the face that was looking back at you. You looked amazing; the color of your eyes popped, the glitter was doing the right job of not making it look too dark and the red lipstick was the final touch. You loved it.

“That’s the face of a heartbreaker, girl.” Nikki admired your face for an instant before smiling. “Ah, I can’t wait for the boys to fight over you.”

“Very funny, Nikk.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The club Nikki choose was wild, especially since a manager was waiting for you at the door, guiding you to the balcony section of the club- which was the freaking VIP one.

“Nikk?” You half-screamed through the music, dying to know how she managed to pull this off. Mia seemed as confused as you were. “Anything you want to tell us?”

“About what?” She kept walking with the biggest of smiles.

“Uh… Us getting into the VIP section wiht no even five minutes of being here?”

“Oh, that?” Her smile grew bigger, if that was physically possible. “I know someone.”

Clearly, that was all the information you were getting. Mia gave you a look and the both of you silently decided that it was better if you didn’t dig into it.

“Tonight it’s about having fun, girls. My treat, don’t worry.” Nikki said once you were at the table, which already had a champagne bottle resting comfortably on an ice bucket. Three champagne glasses were next to it, patiently waiting for you.

“Oh, so this is luxury, luxury.” Mia whispered, laughing a bit.

“The fun it’s all that matters, trust me, Mia.” A waiter appeared out of nowhere, silently grabbing the bottle before smiling at all of you.

“Welcome, ladies. May I open it now?” You nodded, and with one quick movement of his wrist, he had the job done. Impressive. “Hope you have a good night. Don’t forget you can always call a waiter with the button that’s underneath the table.” And then he was gone.

“You were right, Mia. This is luxury luxury.” You accepted the glass Nikki offered you, excited for the night ahead.

“Let’s enjoy it without actually wondering how much all this is, babe.” Was all she said before chugging her glass in one sitting. “I’m ready, give me another one.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!" Nikki cheered, happy to see Mia engaged with tonight’s mission.

“Come on, you need to chug that thing too, there’s more in here.” Nikki told you, already serving Mia’s second glass.

“Fuck it.” You said before doing as Nikki said, chugging your champagne as carefully as possible so you didn’t choke. “If I end up vomiting all over the floor at the end of the night, I want you to know, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s fine to me!” And then Nikki chugged her glass as well.

Yeah, this night was going to be hella interesting.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Needless to say that within two hours of clubbing you were pretty drunk. Not to the point of falling when trying to walk because the world was spinning or to the verge of unconsciousness, but a good point between being able to not care if something ridiculous escaped your mouth and dancing with strangers without giving it a second thought.

Nikki had found some friends along the night, and now three more people, which were the nicest ever, were sitting at your table, chatting and laughing along. You enjoyed the their company, but felt the need to give yourself space to drink a very much needed glass of water in peace.

So there you were, leaning against one of the multiple spaces in the balcony where little chairs were dispersed. It felt almost peaceful if you ignored the music blasting through the speakers or the many waiters going around the place, dealing with drunks and orders.

“No way! Is that you?” A voice startled you, taking your mind away from the blankness it was immersed in. “I knew I wasn’t mistaking that face!”

You turned, slightly pissed at the person that was basically yelling at you, until you realized it was Gio. Gio Reyna himself.

“Gio?!” You didn’t know why, but the excitement made you scream. Maybe it was because you were drunk, but seeing Gio was one of the highlights of the night. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m taking the few days off I have.” He hugged you tightly once you stood up, almost swiping you from the floor. “You look amazing! What are you doing here?”

“Thanks! I’m with my friends, they’re right there!” You pointed to the table, where all kept chatting without noticing your encounter. “It’s a girl’s night!”

“That’s cool! I thought you were with Jude, since he’s at London and all that.”

Your smile never wandered from your face, not caring about Jude’s name being dropped from Gio’s lips. You shook your head, letting him know you weren’t with him today. Or ever, for that matter.

“Nope, just my girls and I.” He kept looking at you like he was in front of a new person, not Jude’s “girlfriend”. You didn’t know if you liked it or felt bad about it. He was one of Jude’s good friends after all. “What about taking a picture? It’s been so long since we saw each other.”

“Sure! Are you okay if I post it to IG?”

Oh?

“Of course, go for it.”

Then the two of you moved to a more illuminated area, he took his phone and you knew this was one of a kind type of opportunity. Time to be the pettiest bitch I know. Taking advantage of him getting closer to you for the sake of the photo, you passed one arm over his shoulders, and after a couple of pics, you decided to give him a tiny peck on the cheek.

“Let's see.” He said shyly. Aw.

A few of them were blurry, but most were decent and the peck one was fabulous, not only for the sake of your intentions, but also because of how good the two of you looked. Your makeup was still intact, and with the lighting, it shined in a very pretty way. Gio had a light blush due to the alcohol, his smile being evident, giving his already handsome face something else.

“That one?” You said, picking the one you liked the most.

“Yeah! We look amazing.” He started to set it but paused before publishing it. “Do you mind if I tag you?”

Bingo.

“Go ahead, I have no problem.” And that was it.

You said your goodbyes, and while returning to the table, you felt some type of triumph. Did this make you a bad person?

“Where were you? We thought you got lost or something.” Mia said when you finally arrived, sitting beside Nikki.

“So… I did a thing…”

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lucassinclaer · 2 months

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INVERSE

Rating: Gen Relationship: Erica Sinclair & Lucas Sinclair Notes: Post-Season 4, Erica Sinclair centric

“Erica,” says her mom, says her dad, says Lucas, and Erica doesn’t know how to say that it hasn’t occurred to her for a second to do things any other way.

READ ON AO3 HERE

this is a fill for my stranger things fic bingo square 'erica sinclair' - (if you wanna participate in the bingo, check out my pinned post!!)

“Erica!” says her music teacher and Erica doesn’t know why she sounds so surprised.

It’s not like she said anything that wasn’t true. She never does.

“Erica!” says Auntie Patrice and pulls her back by her collar.

Erica’s always thought that honesty is the good thing, the right thing, the thing other people would appreciate.

“Erica!” says Tanya on the playground.

She’s eleven and then she’s twelve and somewhere along the way it’s all changed. Her name become an exclamation she doesn’t get.

“Erica,” says her mom, says her dad, says Lucas, and Erica doesn’t know how to say that it hasn’t occurred to her for a second to do things any other way.

•

Here’s the thing: she isn’t trying to be rude.

Sure, she doesn’t care super care if she is, but it’s pretty much never her goal. Besides, shouldn’t it all be based on truth? Truth, justice, the American way. Erica can’t be the only one who pays attention to this stuff.

Sometimes it bugs her friends and they fight. They always make up in the end, but the days they don’t talk still suck.

She’s good in school, so her teachers don’t complain too much but when they have the time they tell her to be careful about running her mouth. Those days suck, too.

Her mom tells her, though – at night when she tucks Erica into bed even though she’s getting way too old for that – that she shouldn’t be anyone but who she is. That she shouldn’t let the world make her into someone else. (Erica doesn’t totally get it. How would that even work? There’s nothing in the world that she’d allow to change her, she’s sure. She doesn’t know where she’d begin.)

So, despite the chidings her mother doles out, Erica knows that she wants her daughter to be herself.

It’s a good thing, too, because Erica really likes being Erica.

•

The swelling of Lucas’ face still hasn’t gone down. Mom and dad fret over it, but the whole of Hawkins has been plunged into chaos and it’s easy to say that he and Erica and Max were in an accident when the quake hit. It’s not even that much of a lie.

Erica does most of the deflecting because her brother can’t be trusted these days. Not that she can blame him – although she still tries to give him grief. Can’t give up on everything normal.

But Max looks awful in that hospital bed, still and horrible. She’s meant to be her brother’s girlfriend who’s much too cool for him, on her skateboard, moving and teasing and fitting in at their house where she likes to watch TV. At least she used to before she stopped coming around. (Lucas never talked about that, at least not to her which makes sense. He still got those pathetic mooning eyes when she came up, though, so Erica knows it wasn’t his choice to break up. And he had hope the whole time. She could tell. He still has hope now and there’s something warm about it that Erica doesn’t know how to name.)

Yeah, Erica really hates that hospital room. It smells terrible, looks worse and there’s always some machine beeping in the background.

But there’s nowhere else to be. Lucas spends every possible moment in that room. The others come to visit when they can. They can only spare so many party members. Sometimes Max’s mother’s there but more often than not it’s just them, Max and Erica and Lucas.

A sick inverse of Saturday mornings spent on the couch where Lucas pretended not to be interested in her cartoons. Where Max would pretend like she didn’t enjoy her mother’s valiant efforts to feed her. Being a teenager involves a lot of pretending, Erica’s learned. It seems beyond exhausting.

Now it’s them playing checkers over Max’s hospital bed, commentating the whole way, before Lucas gets out Tolkien. They finished up The Talisman two days ago.

Today he hesitates. Doesn’t open his stupid Hobbit book and launches into reading.

There’s a heavy silence and when he speaks his voice is all torn up.

“I didn’t save her.” His fingers scratch at the cover, but his eyes are glued to Max’s still, waxy face. “We promised her we wouldn’t miss our shot but we didn’t—” He makes a choking sound like a sob.

There’s a twist in Erica’s chest, sour or like a burn.

“When she wakes up… I don’t know how she could forgive me.”

It’s the rawest Erica thinks she’s ever seen him. It’s unsettling and makes the biting feeling behind her ribs worse. She doesn’t want this to happen. Lucas is the big brother and big brothers aren’t supposed to fall apart.

They can be poked and prodded and provoked and they’ll yell and take their He-Man dolls back and they’ll lie for their sisters about the stain on the good carpet once threatened.

This isn’t right.

The helplessness in his eyes is contagious. It crawls up her arms, immobilizing her inch by inch. If Lucas doesn’t know what to do in this room, how is she supposed to know what to do in this room?

Her brother is broken in this moment, much like Hawkins. They have the same scars. Like he was torn apart with it.

So, she tells him the only thing she ever tells anyone: the truth.

“Well, that’s stupid.”

His head shoots up. He frowns but he doesn’t say anything. He’s listening to her, Erica realizes, like she has an answer he wants to hear.

Everything gets so weird when the world ends.

“That’s what Max would say, and you know it. Stop being stupid.” She’s standing on the opposite side of the bed from where he’s sitting. They bring their own water bottles because the hospital is overflowing still and can’t spare the glasses. Erica puts her bottle (pink to Lucas’ green, mom bought them together) back into their backpack. “You did everything you could. I don’t know how you guys survived ‘til high school. We all knew the risk. Max was never gonna let other people take the fall. It was a dangerous plan, but who else was gonna do anything?”

It's bitter in the back of her throat. She’d looked at the group of them, in that van, before they got to Creel House, and she’d felt cold inside. Everyone they had, everyone willing to fight, had looked so young. Unqualified. Inexperienced.

Child endangerment, she’d told Dustin and Robin an eternity ago. That’s all this town really is now. The evidence lies with them right here in this room.

There’s still something in her that’s constricted. Those words were all she had. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Lucas pushes back, if it’s not enough.

Slowly, she tears her eyes away from the lonely backpack by the side of Max’s bed.

Lucas has the tiniest smile on his face.

“Erica,” he says, and it sounds like thank you.

#stficbingo #erica sinclair #lucas sinclair #tuserjess #usersen #usercilla #stranger things #emstuff #emfics

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 3 months

Text

The Dirt (Your Version)

Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.

A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Trigger Warning- self-harm, mentions of past child abuse and cancer

Previous Chapter

Chapter 19- Truth comes out

"Who did this to you?" Nikki questioned, his fingers brushing over the dark bruise around your neck.

It had been a long time since you had heard that protectiveness in the bassist's voice. It had been a long time since you had seen him. And an even longer time since he had touched you like this.

"It doesn't matter." You sighed.

"Was it Vince?"

"What? No! He would never hurt me. Never." You insisted and Nikki nodded, his brows furrowing as he brushed his thumb over the bruise carefully.

"Tell me who and I'll fuck 'em up."

"It was my father and Vince already fucked him up."

Nikki's eyes widened in surprise knowing you hadn't been in contact with your father since you were a teenager. Nikki had questions. You could tell that he had many questions to ask but seemed to be holding himself back.

His sea green eyes were watching you worriedly. The last time you saw each other was that day at the studio. The day Vince had quit, and you walked away.

The guilt of that weighed heavily down on your shoulders. Mötley Crüe were finished. It didn't matter that they had a new singer, the band was over the moment Vince left and it was your fault.

"If you want me to leave. I'll leave." You whispered.

"I don't want you to leave, princess."

Just hearing that old nickname bought tears to your eyes and you lowered your head so he wouldn't see them fall. Nikki Sixx had seen you cry too many times to count over the years. You didn't want him to see you cry anymore.

"Come inside. Can I get you a drink?" Nikki offered. "I'm sober, so there's not many options."

You smiled, heart swelling with pride hearing that.

"Water is fine."

He disappeared in the kitchen, and you walked over to his couch and sat down hugging your knees to your chest. Nikki returned shortly after handing you a glass of cold water which you took with a small smile.

"It's not that I'm not happy to see you after all this time, because I am. But what's going on?" Nikki asked worriedly.

"Skylar died."

"Oh, fuck." He sighed heavily the shock of that information hitting him hard. "I'm so sorry."

You fiddled with the glass of water as Nikki walked around the couch and sat down beside you.

He asked what happened. You told him about the tumour and cancer that spread through the little girl's body. He asked about Vince, and you told the truth. Your brother was a mess but was trying to get himself better.

The two of you sat together in silence after that, Nikki trying to process everything while you sat there fiddling with the empty glass trying not to cry.

Grieving was hard.

Whether it was for your own baby or someone else's. Grief in general for a lack of a better word... sucked.

The suckiest part about it was how lonely grieving made you feel. And yeah, sure, your family had been mourning the loss of Skylar. But you've been mourning the loss of your own baby too because you had never really allowed yourself to grieve that unborn child until now.

And then you'd felt angry at yourself for it because that was in the past and Skylar had just died. Your little niece had just died, but you weren't only thinking about her. And that made you feel guilty. And then that guilt turned into anger. And you were angry at yourself for being angry because dear God, it wasn't like they had died on purpose, but it happened, and you couldn't save either of them.

So, you were angry.

You were angry at the world because it kept spinning after those horrible deaths. And you were angry that you were still living when Skylar had her whole life ahead of her and your own baby never got to draw its first breath.

But you know what? You'd take the anger, the sadness and the guilt because the only reason all of that existed within you now was because love existed first. Because it still existed in you now. And you knew that if you had loved Skylar less or never found out about your pregnancy, things would be easier, but you didn't want to live in that world.

So, yeah, you had a lifetime of those sticky grief feelings ahead, but you welcomed them with open arms because you had four years of love with Skylar and a couple months of knowing about your baby and that will always, always be worth it.

"Shit, princess."

Your head snapped in Nikki's direction to find his sea green eyes swimming with tears, and you very quickly realised that you had just said all of that out loud.

"Can I hold you?" He asked, wiping his teary eyes.

"Please."

Nikki shifted closer on the couch before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side and kissing the top of your head. You buried your face against his chest and squeezed your eyes shut not wanting this moment to end because you had missed this. You had missed him so fucking much.

Nikki eventually let go of you, saying something about needing to piss before he disappeared leaving you on the couch. You were pretty sure that the bassist just needed a moment alone to compose himself because he hadn't allowed himself to mourn or grieve over your unborn baby until now either.

You reached up and rubbed your thumb over the scars and cuts on your wrist thinking about your brother. Thinking about Skylar. Thinking about Razzle. Thinking about your unborn baby. Thinking about everything.

You were so lost in thought you didn't hear Nikki approaching until he sat back down beside you causing you to nearly jump out of your skin at his sudden presence. His shoulder was touching yours and you quickly shifted your bracelets to cover the cuts.

You leant your head against his shoulder, the two of you remaining quiet for quite some time, but you didn't need to fill the silence. That was the nice thing about Nikki, he could appreciate silence when others wouldn't. Not needing to speak just for the sake of talking.

He kissed the side of your head and squeezed your hand for comfort, knowing how everything was taking its toll on you.

But he didn't know everything. He didn't know about those dark thoughts that still haunted you. He didn't know about the cuts hidden beneath your sleeve.

"Let me see your neck." Nikki suddenly said, speaking up for the first time in a while.

He hooked his index finger under your chin tilting your head up as you lifted it off his shoulder. You hadn't had a chance to look in the mirror and see the damage yet, but by the frown forming on Nikki's face, you knew it wasn't great.

"Does it hurt?"

You shook your head and gently touched the angry purple and blue finger shaped bruises with a small wince, "I'm fine. It only hurts when I touch it."

Nikki didn't seem happy with that answer. His frown only deepening as he inspected the marks carefully.

He shouldn't care about you though. Nikki should be angry at you for what happened in the studio. He should be furious. He shouldn't be worrying or caring about you. You didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve him.

"You should hate me." You whispered.

Nikki's eyes met yours, "what? Why?"

"I'm the reason for Mötley Crüe's downfall. It's all my fault."

"It's not."

"It is!" You answered a little louder than you meant but you couldn't help it. "I mean, fuck, you warned us at the start, Sixx. You said hooking up with me would jeopardize the band and now look what happened."

"That's not on you."

"It is."

"It's not. That's on all of us." Nikki insisted and you knew there was no point trying to argue with him on this.

You sighed, "I should go. I-I don't know why I came here. You have your own life... I'm sorry."

You stood up from the couch but before you could walk back towards the door, Nikki suddenly reached out and grabbed your hand stopping you.

"Don't go." He said, his voice nearly pleading as he looked up at you with gentle sea green eyes. "It's getting late. Just stay here tonight. You can take the spare bedroom. Please. Just don't go. Not like last time."

You hesitated for a moment as you glanced over at his front door before looking back at him and nodding in agreement. Nikki's shoulders relaxed instantly, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze before he showed you to the guest bedroom.

Given Nikki Sixx's track record with girls, you were expecting him to try make a move or convince you to share his own bed, but to your surprise he was a complete gentleman. He had matured a lot since the last time you saw him. So much had happened since then, yet for some unknown reason, Nikki still cared about you.

You ended up sleeping on the couch that night because the mattress in the spare room had a very distinct scent of urine on it. Underneath the black sheets were multiple yellow stains and although they appeared to be old, the smell was definitely there, so you retreated back to the couch.

It wasn't so bad. You had slept in worse places especially while on tour with the guys. So, a blanket on a leather couch was actually pretty good in comparison.

You laid there staring up at the antique looking ceiling fan above you in the dim light unable to fall asleep. Your mind wouldn't shut off. You kept thinking about Skylar which then turned into thinking about Vince and what your father had said.

Your entire life had been a lie.

Vince wasn't your brother, and your father wasn't even your real father. And your mother... she killed herself after giving birth to you. Did she not want you that badly? Did she really think that leaving you with that abusive piece of shit would be better than whatever she could provide? Was a bullet to the head the only choice she had?

Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as you laid there squeezing your wrist feeling the calming sting of the cuts.

You must have fallen asleep sometime though because the next thing you knew, your eyes were snapping open, and you sat up gasping for air.

A gunshot echoed in your mind. Your mothers blurry figure falling to the ground in a pool of her blood. Your fathers angry voice screamed in the background somewhere. You could still feel his hands around your neck choking you.

"Y/N, hey. Just breathe. You're okay, just breathe." Someone's voice suddenly said, but through the haze in your head you couldn't figure out who the voice belonged to let alone trying to focus on breathing.

You couldn't breathe. It was like your father was still choking you. All the air had gotten sucked out of your lungs and there wasn't anything you could do about it. You could feel your chest tightening as you buried your face into trembling hands trying to calm yourself down, but it wasn't working.

A small voice in the back of your head was telling you that you were having a panic attack, but that little piece of information did nothing to help.

"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me. Y/N, look at me."

Somehow you forced yourself to lift your head and your eyes locked with familiar sea green ones. Nikki was looking at you in worry, but you just shook your head unable to shut your brain off as the lingering nightmare flashed through your mind on repeat.

"It's okay. Deep breaths. Y/N, princess, just breathe. Copy me, okay?" Nikki instructed, kneeling down in front of you as he took in an exaggerated deep breath, and you mimicked him before he released the breath slowly and you did the same as he repeated the action.

It took a while, but eventually you managed to get your breathing under control. Your heart was beating out of your chest, your body shaking, but you were breathing. Small victories.

Nikki was kneeling beside the couch watching you worriedly and you only just realised that he was shirtless. Has he been shirtless this whole time? How the fuck did you miss that little detail? Or big detail because Nikki had definitely been working out since the last time you saw him. His chest and arms were more muscular than you had ever seen them.

You rubbed your face with trembling hands trying not to think about his attractive body before you slowly sat up on the couch with a heavy sigh.

"Shit, I'm sorry." You whispered, realising that he had just witnessed you totally freak out.

"You don't ever have to apologise to me."

"Did I wake you?"

"No. I was already awake."

It was a clear lie to make you feel better, but you appreciated it. Nikki didn't move from beside you though. His hand was hovering over your arm like he wasn't sure if he should touch you right now or not.

"Are you okay?"

Nope. Not even remotely okay, but were you going to admit that? Absolutely not.

"Yeah."

Nikki didn't say anything after that and you were pretty sure he saw straight through your lie, but he didn't call you out on it. He was good like that. He understood not wanting to talk after nightmares, God knows he was riddled with his own demons in his sleep too.

"Do you want to be alone?" He asked eventually, breaking the silence.

You shook your head because the thought of being alone with your thoughts sounded like hell.

Nikki simply nodded before he stood up and sat down on the couch beside you leaving a respectable gap between you to give you some space.

You traced your fingers over the bruise on your neck thinking back to what your father had said.

"Is it hurting?" Nikki asked worriedly watching you touch the bruise gingerly.

You shook your head, "no. I'm just thinking about something he said before he, uh, strangled me."

"What did he say?"

"That he's not my real father. Said my mother dumped me on his doorstep as a baby and then killed herself."

"Jesus." Nikki swore softly under his breath not knowing what else to say to that.

You remained quiet for a moment biting your lip fighting back tears you could feel coming. You were so God damn sick of crying.

"It means Vince and I aren't even related." You whispered.

Nikki must have heard the crack in your voice because he turned on the couch to face you properly. The only good thing about your childhood was having Vince as your big brother. But it turned out that he wasn't even your brother at all.

"There's more to family than blood, Y/N." Nikki said gently, hesitantly resting his hand on your shoulder. "I know that better than anyone."

You sighed with a small nod wiping the tears from your eyes before they could fall, and Nikki squeezed your shoulder comfortingly.

Vince had said that it didn't matter. He said that you were still his sister no matter what, but it still felt wrong knowing your entire childhood and sibling bond had been bought up on a lie.

"You and Vince, you're family. Nothing is going to change that."

You glanced over at Nikki and smiled softly needing to hear that more than anything, "thanks, Sixx."

Neither of you spoke for a while after that. Nikki flicked on the television giving you a much-needed distraction from your thoughts. He switched the channel to MTV and lowered the volume down while he leant back against the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

"Why were you sleeping on the couch?"

"Spare bed smells like piss." You answered honestly glancing over at him.

Nikki sighed, "that would've been Slash. He's peed on that bed a few times. Sorry, I thought it was clean after the last time."

You screwed your face up in disgust which caused Nikki to smile before he turned his attention back to the television and the two of you fell into comfortable silence after that.

An hour or so ticked by. The clock on the wall across the room indicated that it was nearly six in the morning. Nikki had fallen asleep beside you a while ago. His head was tipped back against the back of the couch, his hair covering the side of his face as he snored softly.

You watched the bassist sleep for a few minutes before you quietly slipped away and made your way outside through the back door.

It was still dark outside and the view from his back porch was stunning. His house was on a hill at the far side of town and overlooked the entire city. The lights of Hollywood shone brightly in the distance, and you leant against the porch railing taking in the stunning view.

You rolled the sleeve up exposing the cuts along your inner arm that were now on full display as you glanced down at them in disgust. The skin was painted with a mixture of fresh and old cuts, some healed and scarred, others bright red and fresh.

You covered your wrist with your hand and squeezed welcoming the pain as the fresh cuts started to sting, but it wasn't enough.

The pocketknife in your jeans felt like it was burning against the fabric before you reached into the front pocket and pulled it out.

Your hands trembled as you flicked the blade out. Dry blood stained the stainless steel as you pressed the tip of the blade against an unmarked section of skin on your wrist.

Tears started to burn in the back of your eyes as you sliced through the skin like it was butter. Bright crimson blood instantly rose and trickled down onto the railing you were leaning against. You watched the droplets fall. The cut stinging as the outdoor air blew against it and you closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself.

The pain grounded you.

It was fucked up, you knew this was fucked up, but you couldn't stop. It was the only way you knew how to cope with everything.

The sound of the backdoor opening startled you out of your thoughts. You hastily tucked the knife back into your pocket and pulled your sleeve down trying to hide the blood and cuts.

Nikki hovered in the doorway, but you didn't dare look over at him because you had a sinking feeling that he had seen everything.

"Y/N-"

"I just need some fresh air. Go back inside." You said, barely even recognising your own voice.

"And leave you out here to cut yourself?" He questioned bluntly.

Yeah, you thought.

But you didn't dare say that out loud though. And Nikki didn't leave.

Suddenly, he appeared beside you and his hand grasped your shoulder gently. You tilted your head up at him, but he didn't look at you, his wide eyes were glued to your arm that you were trying to hide, but clearly not very well.

You glanced back down and there was no mistaking the crimson stains soaking through the fabric of your sleeve.

Shit.

"How long?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How long have you been cutting yourself? Days? Weeks?"

"...more."

You didn't look at him as you spoke, not wanting to see the disappointment and pity on his face.

"Fucking hell." He whispered to himself.

Nikki let go, you could no longer feel his touch on your shoulder, and you fought the urge to reach out and stop him from leaving. Instead, you looked back out at the city lights watching the sun that was now slowly starting to rise along the horizon.

You listened closely for footsteps, but never heard any. Why wasn't he leaving?

A few tense seconds of silence ticked by before Nikki let out a loud exhale and leant down against the porch railing beside you.

"Princess, look at me."

You expected to hear him sound mad, to sound angry or pissed off, but he didn't. He almost sounded sad.

"Please. Fuck- please, Y/N, look at me." He practically begged.

Reluctantly, you lowered your hands from your face and glanced over at him through teary eyes and had to do a double take when you saw his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Seeing Nikki on the verge of crying was all it took before the flood gates opened. A violent sob escaped your lips as you cried, Nikki's expression breaking.

"I-I'm sorry. Please... please don't hate me."

Nikki's arm was instantly wrapping around your back, resting across your waist and pulling you into his side which just made you cry even more as you leant into him.

"No, no, sweetheart. I don't hate you. I could never hate you." He insisted, holding you tightly.

"I'm sorry. I-I... I'm so sorry." You whimpered, burying your face against his chest.

"it's okay. Shh, it's okay. It's okay."

He kissed the top of your head gently and just held you while you cried. You had been trying to hide your pain from Vince for so long, trying to be strong for him, but now, you allowed yourself to let your guard down and show your true feelings for the first time in what felt like years, knowing you were safe in Nikki's arms.

Eventually, Nikki lowered his arm, and you sniffed rubbing your face with trembling hands trying to calm yourself down.

He pulled out a red bandanna from his back pocket before he grabbed your arm and began to carefully pull up your sleeve. Nikki paused for a second when he got a look at your inner arm properly for the first time. A soft gasp escaped his lips, and you fought the urge to pull your arm away from him.

It was too late. He had already seen it. The damage had been done.

"Fuck, princess." He swore softly under his breath.

He pressed the bandanna against the still bleeding cut and neither of you said anything while he kept his hand pressed down on your wrist with the bandanna to slow the bleeding while you stared out at the view.

Nikki was staring down at your arm with a frown plastered on his face which was better. A frown was better than tears. You could deal with Nikki being mad at you. Anger you could handle.

"I-I didn't know... I never knew things were this bad." Nikki admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

"I was the one that walked away."

"I should have called."

"I'm not your responsibility, Sixx." You whispered, wiping the tears from your eyes with your free hand. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with my shit. Not after what I did."

Nikki let out a deep exhale, "what happened that day in the studio wasn't your fault, Y/N."

"We both know that's a lie."

"What happened. Everything we did... I would do it all over again."

Your eyes widened in surprise and Nikki smiled softly.

"If I could go back in time, I'd do it all again."

"Nikki-"

"I love you, princess. I didn't get a chance to say it that day, but I do."

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling from your eyes because you didn't deserve his love. You didn't deserve any of this.

"You shouldn't." You whispered still shaking your head. "You should hate me for what happened. You should hate me for this." You pulled your arm free from his grasp, the bandanna sticking to your wrist as you held it up for him to see.

"This doesn't change how much I love you. Y/N, hey, hey. Princess, look at me."

When you didn't move, he lifted his hand pinching your chin with his thumb and index finger and raised your head gently until you were forced to look at him.

"I'm serious. This doesn't change anything. I love you, Y/N. The next time you feel like this, come to me. I want to help. Let me help you."

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment as a fresh wave of tears resurfaced at Nikki's kindness causing his expression to soften before he pulled you into a hug.

"I just want you to be okay." He whispered, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too." You answered, and you meant it.

You and Nikki had started out cautious of each other. You were his singer's little sister, and he was the mysterious bass player who seemed to hate you.

Somewhere between that first meeting at Rock Candys gig all those years ago and to this moment now, the two of you had broken down each other's walls and had fallen in love without realising it.

Next Chapter

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A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long.

I just had to work 10 days in a row with 4 of those days on call after hours too (I hated it) but I finally got a few days off and I am already editing the next chapter which will be posted in a couple of days.

I hope you are all still enjoying this story. I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments ❤️

#motley crue #nikki sixx #tommy lee #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx x you #tommy lee x reader #tommy lee fanfic #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue x reader #vince neil #mick mars #the dirt #douglas booth #mgk #colson baker

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