#I feel like that might be indicative of him distancing himself from his past self

[sensitiveheartless]

Thoughts on the hc that Dazai has a glass eye?

I'm just imagining Dazai getting injured on a case on his blind side, and Kunikida berates him and drags him to Yosano.

And Yosano is like "Really, again? How did it happen this time?" And Kunikida says "Idiot wasn't paying attention."

Dazai "No I was, its just my blind side."

And they both freak out because why? How? Huh? But his eye looks fine?

Yosano: Well, I can schedule an appointment and we can see if we can get you surgery or something-

Dazai: Oh its unsalvagable, I'm blind on that side.

Kunikida: Why does your eye look fine then??? (He thinks Dazai is fucking with him)

Dazai just smiles, reaches up and pull the glass eye out. Kunikida screams.

- Goblin anon

Oh my gosh alsksjdjfjf honestly I think this hc is great just for that potential moment of screaming confusion on Kunikida’s part, Dazai absolutely would do that XD

I guess in general I haven’t thought much about the implications of Dazai bandaging that eye! I know I’ve definitely seen fics and stuff where his vision is off in that eye in one way or another (@feralrookie wrote a fantastic soulmate AU where Dazai’s soulmark is on that eye and it gutted me in the best way). I think it’s really fun to see where different people go with it :0

I do think it’s interesting that he swaps which eye he bandages in the Beast universe…that feels like it has Implications but I’m not sure what they are, I’m not very skilled at analysis lol —Although, slightly related, I do love the moment in the Dark Era where Oda pulls those bandages off as he dies, because it seems like a visual representation of how much Dazai was hindering himself in the mafia (seriously, if there isn’t anything wrong with that eye, that means the dude was shooting guns without precise depth perception seemingly just for the heck of it) and then Oda pulls them off as he tells him to go live in the light and just aaaaaaaaaaaaa I am never not going to be emotional about the dark era ;;

…anyway this got off topic, basically all this to say I think that I think it’s cool how many different interpretations of it there are, and you could definitely do a lot with the glass eye headcanon alskjdjdjd

#I don’t know how coherent this is alskjdjfj #i am very sleepy #…now I’m also thinking about the fact that I don’t think we’ve seen Dazai fire a gun since he joined the ADA #unless it’s happened in one of the LNs I haven’t caught up with yet #idk that just seems significant since the times we’ve seen him fire a gun previously were: a moment of clear trauma for him(the 15 arc) #and him imparting trauma on Akutagawa in the dark era. #I feel like that might be indicative of him distancing himself from his past self #or I could be reading too much into it #fun fact that was actually why I gave him a gun in the Dazai-goes-feral-AU #because in that fic he is regressing pretty heavily due to Stress and Emotions #and also why he immediately drops the gun and leaves it behind after he fires the last shot #cause he knows he’s regressing and he’s trying to distance himself from it. #…I ended up rambling a lot sorry alsksjdjfjf #oooh actually another random thought #dyou think there’s anything going on with Q’s eyes? like can they see ok? #I know it’s a part of their character design but oh my gosh those pupils #I feel like that would seriously hamper your vision #ok I need to stop myself before I write a full chapter of nonsense in the tags alskjdjdjd #ask box #bsd dazai #goblin anon

[delirious-donna]

For You [Hanma Shuji]

an: Pure self-indulgence as I've been sick the past few days and I'll use any excuse to continue my soft Shuji agenda...

pairing: Hanma Shuji x female reader

warnings: fluff, self-ship coded, reader has longish hair with a similar texture to Shuji’s, fluff, bit of a sick fic I guess, domesticity, soft shuji, suggestive if you squint, did I mention the fluff?

He didn’t know what to do. That much was evident from the white noise tumbling inside his head and the empty stare that roamed your apartment. Everything was as it should be, and at the same time, nothing was right.

Shuji hadn’t heard a peep from you in almost two days, and that was unheard of before now. He appreciated that you were not overtly clingy. You didn’t need to know his exact whereabouts at any given moment of the day, but you checked in now and then, and for the first time in his life, he looked forward to those moments. So when you went radio silent except for one cursory message in reply to his attempt at humour that you were ghosting him, worry settled heavily.

The smell was apparent the second he let himself in with the spare key you had gifted him months ago. Until now, he hadn’t had reason to use it, but there was no way he would allow another day to pass without knowing what was going on. Sickness–sweet and sour–lingered in the nose, an unmistakable smell.

What he found huddled in a nest of twisted blankets tugged at a heart he had not long grown to realise existed. A mass of tangled hair obscured most of your sleeping face, though he doesn’t miss the scrunched expression etched across your features. Your skin that peeks from beneath your adorable kitty pyjamas was covered in a sheen of sweat, and he could feel the heat radiating from your body when he closed the distance in two quick strides.

You’re sick. 

The rasp of your breathing indicated something was sitting on your chest, likely a bad cold or some infection, and he doesn’t know what to do with this newfound information. Turning, he raised his glasses atop his head to pass a weary palm down his face.

Cuts, scrapes and bruises are things he can deal with. He is well accustomed to peroxide on rags to clean wounds and disinfect any dirt that might linger inside split knuckles. A raw steak slapped over a swollen eye might be considered a bit of a health hazard these days, but he still swore that nothing reduced the swelling faster. Hell, Shuji was even a dab hand with a needle and thread. He had lost count with how many of his exclusively short list of friends he had patched up to avoid the inevitable hospital questions over the years. He had even sewn himself up from time to time.

Hell, he needed to act. Standing here doing nothing was beginning to sizzle his blood.

You woke from being jostled, the haze of your fever dream preventing the usual fight or flight instinct from kicking in. Craning your neck, you blinked and scrubbed at your eyes. There was no way you were looking up at your boyfriend. No way that he had you cradled in his arms in the most delicate hold you had ever experienced.

“Shuji?” 

“Yeah, princess, it’s me. Need you to sit here f’me, alright?” He rasped, voice affected by some emotion you couldn’t quite place.

Cool porcelain met your backside, your body guided upright until you could manage your equilibrium. Hanma Shuji was here, in your apartment, in your bathroom. Rummaging through your medicine cabinet and looking for god knows what.

A bath. He could at least run you a warm bath and rid you of the smell of sweat and sickness from your pretty skin. Methodically, he worked to fill the tub and added a few splashes of some scented shit that smelled familiar from your cabinet. Shuji dutifully peeled the pyjamas and underwear from your body and threw them in the hamper with a mind to run a load for you if he remembered.

Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe your twisted fever-induced dreams had shifted away from the nauseatingly vibrant images you had experienced only a few hours ago to this muted peaceful scene. It was a nice thought, but no, this was reality and not one you ever thought you’d experience. 

A hand from behind your head came into view, a hand you knew immediately, not just by the stark black kanji inked against golden skin but the length of his slender fingers and the slight yellowish stain from the cigarettes he smoked. He handed you a soapy washcloth, which you gratefully accepted, wiping it across your body and sluffing off the grim that had caked you over the course of the last few days.

It was heaven, pure and simple, and when you thought it couldn’t get any better, Shuji surprised you once more. He gently tilted your head back, your eyes met his, and you smiled in adoration at the concentration evident on his face seconds before he began wetting your hair with the jug you kept on the edge of the bath.

“You don’t have to… Shu, I can take care of my hair once I’m better.”

Shuji clicked his tongue against his teeth in admonishment, but he held back from scolding you further for not trusting him with this small task. He washed his own damn hair, so washing yours wasn’t going to be some impossible task. His fingers worked in the suds of your shampoo into a thick lather, digging deep against your scalp and massaging firmly enough to elicit moans of bliss. 

Normally such noises would make him hard, but right now it only raised a genuine smile. This was possibly one of the most intimate things he had ever done for you. Never mind all those times he had rearranged your insides or made slow, passionate love to you. No, this was on a whole other level, and he liked it–more than he ever believed he would.

You must have dozed off whilst he shampooed and conditioned your hair because the next thing you were aware of was being lifted from the bath and wrapped in a thick fluffy towel that draped past your toes. Shuji returned you to your bedroom but paused in where to deposit you, his nose wrinkled in distaste at the mess of sheets that most definitely needed to be washed and changed. Eventually, he planted your feet on the plush rug by the bottom of your bed, one which his knees were intimately familiar with and helped towel dry your body from head to foot.

“Put these on, baby. Imma strip your bed, do you have another set?” He asked with a kiss to your temple, handing you a clean set of yellow pyjamas with little ducks covering them from your dresser drawer. 

Nodding sleepily, you pointed to the wicker storage box in the far corner before stepping into the pj pants and clumsily covering yourself with the top that bagged just enough that you could truthfully forgo the pants if you wanted.

You watched in amusement as the man known far and wide as both a talented photographer and sometimes enforcer for certain well-connected friends changed your bedding. His tall frame made it easy for him to manipulate the fitted sheet into place and wrangle a clean duvet cover on your kingsize duvet. This shitty task would have taken you nearly half an hour by yourself, but he managed in only ten.

“Need to dry my hair,” you yawned, leaning your face on his bicep and gratefully folding into his body when his arm snaked around your waist. He looked lost again, and you took pity on him. This kind of care was not his forte, but he didn’t know that all of this meant more to you than you could verbalise in your current state.

“I’ll wait for you in the living room. Take your time, alright?” With a final kiss to your forehead, he rounded the door of your bedroom and was gone from sight.

Shuji tried to sit still whilst the sound of your hairdryer filled his ears, but he was never one to sit idly by. He thought back on the times he had been sick as a kid with no one to really care for him and the things he would have wished for. In truth, a hot bath, clean clothes and a full stomach were all he ever wanted.

He was no cook, but he got by. A can of chicken soup caught his attention as he scanned your cupboards and set about warming it up on the stovetop. Your bread was still fresh, and he found butter in the fridge. He could do this. He could be the caring boyfriend when he wanted and though he had never felt inclined before, you were different.

You didn’t blow up his phone looking for sympathy or attention–no–you had tried to tough it out much like he had growing up, and it further sparked the flicker of kindred spirit that he felt about you. He wanted to protect you. There was no sense of obligation, and that made the difference. You were the first person he had loved outside of himself, and you reciprocated unconditionally. 

You took the man he was, the boy he had been and loved every part of him, flaws and all. Shuji could do the same for you, and he vowed that the next time one of you fell sick, you’d be living together and there would be no need to guess that something was wrong.

So engrossed in sentimental thoughts that were still rather foreign to him, Shuji didn’t notice the hairdryer cut off nor the sound of your bare feet padding in search of him. It wasn’t until two small arms wound around his waist that he noticed or acknowledged your presence at all.

“What did I do to deserve you, Hanma Shuji?” You sobbed wetly into the shirt covering his back. Your emotions were overwhelming you, head still stuffy from whatever sickness had beat your ass the past few days, coupled with the domesticity of watching him cook for you. Tears streaked towards your cheeks, and you smushed your face deeper into him in an attempt to halt the flow.

He chuckled whilst continuing to stir the soup. “I know a lot of people that would say you must have been real bad in a past life to have ended up with me as a boyfriend.”

You sniffled and mustered every ounce of strength–barely anything–to smack him for that comment. “Shut up, you ass. Don’t spoil it.”

Shuji turned slowly. The amused expression softening in the face of your soppy, pathetic face that he couldn’t possibly adore any more, and he raised a hand to thumb away your tears. Enfolding you fully into his arms, he cooed softly against your freshly dried hair and smiled at the scent that was uniquely you had returned to your skin.

“I want you to know that I would do anything for you. Not only would I rip apart this entire fucking world if someone dared hurt you.” He enthused before his tone softened with a quiet exhale as if he were about to whisper some unspoken secret. “But I’ll also bathe you when you need the help, and I’ll feed you when you’re hungry. For you, there is nothing too much.”

#delirious writes #hanma x reader #shuji x reader #hanma shuji x reader #hanma fluff #shuji fluff #soft shuji

[morgenlich]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

also gonna tag @council-of-beetroot since she tagged me also lol

going 2 be sharing the ao3 summary + first few paragraphs of each since i've seen ppl doing a few different things with this meme lol

in really no particular order:

1) last light (gen fic w multiple ships, rated E)

just some desperate people trying to survive with (and sometimes in spite of) each other.

The lightbulb overhead flickered almost imperceptibly, emitting a faint hum just at the edge of Tolys’ hearing. Sighing softly to himself, he drummed his fingertips on the windowsill anxiously, ignoring the cup of now-cold tea beside him as he tried to focus on the fat snowflakes tumbling lazily from the sky to the streets below, where they melted almost instantly. The little village slumbered on, cradled to the east by a forest so dark and dense even Tolys was wary of it; its shadow loomed in the gloaming, and he wondered, not for the first time, what creatures might be prowling there. Darkness fell swiftly, the handful of streetlamps doing little against it. There was little threat of an air raid so far east, though there was still an uneasy feeling in Tolys’ stomach. Even so early in December, few people wanted to deal with the cold; those who braved it shuffled quickly toward wherever their business was and otherwise left the streets to the night. Tolys imagined most of the residents would be readying for dinner then, preparing to settle in for the evening…. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A woman held her child’s hand as they crossed the street. On the corner, a couple of officers stood, lighting their cigarettes. You’d almost be forgiven for forgetting there was a war on, were it not for the tanks lurking in the shadows.

2) like they do in babylon (rusliet, rated E)

for the past several nights, russia has been calling lithuania to his study to talk and drink with him, and lithuania doesn't know why--until russia kisses him.

This is a bad idea, Tolys thought, as though that hadn’t been the appeal of it an hour ago. “Would you like some more wine?” Russia asked as he refilled his own glass. “I—please. Yes.” He bit his lip and held out his still half-full glass, willing his hand to be steady while Russia topped him off. He couldn’t bring himself to sip at it, though it was a vintage certainly deserving of that treatment; he wished only to calm his nerves, he was numb to any sensation but the buzz of anxiety running through his body, and if Russia thought anything of the gulp he managed to swallow, he gave no indication of it. Russia was sitting sideways on the sofa, one foot tucked under his leg, absentmindedly swirling his wineglass as he watched Tolys. His violet eyes were full of some emotion that Tolys couldn’t—or perhaps, simply didn’t want to—name. The deep yellow silk of the cushions glistened faintly, catching the light of the dying fire before them. Tolys focused on the dancing flames and took another drink of wine.

3) plein air (frapol, rated T)

[summary is just part of the same excerpt i'm using here]

Yawning, Feliks rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand and reaching for a grape with the other. Francis, his billowy white shirt hanging off his shoulder, gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “More wine?” he asked. Feliks shook his head; Francis shrugged before pouring himself another glass, and the two lapsed back into comfortable silence, lounging on the old blanket Francis had brought with. The Mediterranean stretched out before them, glittering like a sapphire, the horizon obscured by midday haze. Barely perceptible waves lapped at the brilliant white sand, their murmuring the only sound other than the occasional breeze, hardly strong enough to lift their hair. Pale cliffs sheltered the beach from the rest of the world; earlier, they’d provided shade, too, but the sun was almost directly overhead now, and the only shade offered came from a sun-faded parasol propped up behind them. Feliks didn’t mind; the warmth of the sun on his skin was more than welcome after so many months stuck in the cold, or indoors…. It had been Francis’s idea to head south for a bit, and it had been his suggestion that morning to spend the day at the beach. “You need to rest,” he’d said, “and the warm air will your lungs good.” Feliks hadn’t complained—he was sick of Paris, and the warm air did make it much easier to breathe…he’d missed the sea, too. It’s the wrong sea, though, he thought. It was such a brilliant blue he still wasn’t quite sure he wasn’t hallucinating it, and Francis had brought the sweetest wine he’d ever tasted, grapes and berries and a melon all so ripe they were practically bursting, it was just the two of them…and yet. Vivid memories of searching for shells and amber when he was younger, alongside…. No, it was pointless to dwell on that.

4) heartlines (lietpol, rated M)

feliks learns to be a little more comfortable with himself around tolys.

Feliks took a deep breath, smoothing his skirt—hoping it would wipe the sweat from his hands in the process—before timidly placing his hand on the doorknob. He had been so confident that Tolys wouldn’t judge him until that moment, just before showing him. He was suddenly glad he’d decided against wearing makeup—that would have been far too much, he was sure—or maybe the fake earrings would be where Tolys would draw the line—instinctively, his hands flew to his ears to pull them off— He took another deep breath. He’d seen men in perfectly masculine clothes wearing earrings, this was fine. Anyway, Tolys is the one with hair past his shoulders, he thought. Clenching his jaw, he grabbed the handle, still not turning it. The best thing to do was just get on with it—either Tolys wouldn’t care, and this worrying was for nothing; or he would, and it was best to just get that humiliation over with. He could feel his hands growing slick again; he grimaced. Couldn’t he at least act confident? He’d done all sorts of crazy-ridiculous-stupid things without a second thought, why should this make his lunch want to come back up? He rolled his shoulders to adjust his posture, then opened his bedroom door before he could talk himself out of it.

5) midnight rendezvous (ruspol, rated E)

Feliks wants to blow off some steam, and Ivan is willing to help. Part of my whump/smut combo "bingo," the prompt was "spanking."

Feliks made his way through the darkened halls of Russia’s estate, wrapping his blue satin house robe tightly around himself as though it would stave off the cold. Winter had well and truly come, the oppressive cold leaking into the house through cracks in the walls and gaps in the windows. Had there been lights in the hall, Feliks was sure he’d be able to see his own breath. At least it was a clear night, and still; the nights where the wind shrieked as it hurled itself against the walls were by far the worst, and Feliks was not entirely convinced the old manor house they had all been stuffed into would withstand another winter after this one. The overwhelming smell of cheap perfume clung to him as he walked. It was annoying, to know the house well enough to be able to so easily avoid making the floors creak in his wake. Well, if he was going to be stuck living with Russia, he might as well get something out of it.

#q&a #nopeferatu #hetalia #my writing #thank you!!! #and thank you also beetroot and the two anons who sent me this lol

[nitrochiralfan]

Character Design analysis: Ryou Fujieda

Time for one of my favorite characters in Slow Damage, Ryou Fujieda.

Wow, okay this is going to be lengthy because Fujieda, like Towa, has so many details jampacked in his design. While I was writing this post I researched Fujiedas's design and the more I researched his design the more details I found in his character design.

Fujieda is a fascinating character. He shows that people are not what they seem to be at a glance the same is true about Fujieda once you peel back Fujieda’s layers that you find that Towa and Fujieda are equal.

His character design is created to be misleading to Towa and the audience Towa would not relate to at first.

The first outfit of his character design costs a suit and tie with slicked-back hair and glasses.

When we see a character with a suit and tie they come off as professional. The suit and tie make characters seem prim and proper in appearance. The glasses and neatly slicked hair on characters are considered studious, serious, and stoic. On the surface, this fits the base personality. The glasses, hair, and clothes indicate that Fujieda is studious, stoic, serious, diligent, stoic, straight-laced, and cold.  Fujieda comes off as a professional in both his words and actions and is very formal when speaking to others.

The suit and tie tell us about Fujiedas's profession as a lawyer. The glasses also serve a functional purpose and it turns out that Fujieda wears glasses to correct his astigmatism.

Fujieda's suit and tie make him clean and neat, not a speck of dust covering him: a little too perfect if you don’t know what he is. The glasses along with his hair slicked back in his design makes Fujieda look too perfect and make us assume that he is what he is but this couldn’t be any further from the truth.

The way his suit and tie are put together nicely makes him seem like someone who is in complete control of his emotions and actions and that he is someone who is in his life in order but that is far from the truth.

Fujieda is designed to be someone well put together as seen in how he is dressed nicely in his suit and tie but in reality, underneath his life is a mess.

One of the things is his glasses. It notes one of his personality traits but I think the glasses might be hiding the look in his eyes, the eyes are the windows of the soul. If the eyes are covered that is reducing the amount of info we know about the character this could be him hiding his true self from others.

Fujieda has complete rein on his emotions cold and serious professional in both his actions and words however

This is just armor that Fujieda uses to distance himself and his past, steeling himself from the trials and tribulations and having to go through climbing up from the dregs to find his sister forced to bottle up his emotions over the years to find out the truth about Mei.

While he seems serious and cold when it comes to other people, it's where he puts on armor when he interacts with other people. When it comes down to it this is his armor serving as a cover to protect his true self.  Fujieda was never given a chance to grow healthily his work appearance is him emulating what he feels a serious adult would act when you peel layer after layer and learn his backstory you began to view his layer appear in a different light

The eyes are another important factor in his design, Uiro’s notes elaborate on Fujieda’s eyes: that Fujieda has a harsh look in his eyes due to his dark past. Fujieda has sharp eyes. If you look closely there's a sharpness at the end of his eyes.

This is a reference to both his serious and honest personality, Fujieda doesn’t mince his words and cuts straight to the point when he speaks which makes him brutally honest.

Next to his casual appearance. Later in the game when Fujieda's hair is let loose it changes the impression of Fujieda altogether. Though his facial expression and eyes don’t change, the hair changes the impression of the character we see. I pointed out in character design before the things to keep in mind in designing characters' hair are the flow of hair and bangs. 

The way Fujiedas hair flows is to the left. The flow of his bangs flows to the left. Another thing is that the bangs show his eyes like his eyes are gazing straight at you. The impression of his bangs made him come off as honest and less harsh. The bangs showing his eyes show his expressiveness, honesty, also his kindness.

When you compare the two his expression doesn’t change in both his private and working appearance,

Fujiedas slicked-back hair intensified the harsh look in his eyes and the bangs softened the harsh look in his eyes. You can tell much a character can change when you mess around with the bangs as seen with how the bangs change the impression of Fujieda's entire character and revealed his other personality traits.

Fujieda has unkempt hair, his hair going in different outward directions when he lets his hair loose, and notes that he is a little more expressive. Fujiedas's personality shines more than still being serious and kind; he can also be a bit of an airhead and awkwardly came off as awkward when he spoke. In normal situations, he can’t cook a different impression that he isn’t perfect. Fujieda's untidy hair can mean that Fujieda is not perfect, he can mistakes too. He's childish and naive when he is easily provoked by Towa and couldn’t read the room. The messy hair could be a cute detail to that part of his personality.

Fujieda's entire upper torso is littered with scars, what makes the scars on Fujieda interesting is the place his scars can be hidden by a shirt from the eyes of other people. The scars symbolize the pain of his past, the scars he has could not easily be seen by others, this is how no one knew what Fujieda is underneath the fact that he can hide his scars symbolizes how he distances himself from others and himself, and anything relating to his past. The scars on his body are from the abuse he got from his mother and the placement of how scars are located on his upper torso Fujieda told us how he got his scars using his body to shield his sister from his mother's abuse.

Fujieda’s body is quite muscular and well-toned, This shows that Fujieda is crazy prepared when handling the unpredictability of Shinkoumi preparing any worst-case scenario and dealing with the consequences of what the truth might bring to others and himself.

One thing I noticed when I put both Towa and Fujieda together and compared them is that you will see just how much they mirror each other.  Fujieda is designed after the theme of the route that is equal. This might be intentional. 

Fujieda is designed to be the opposite of Towa in many ways. The best example would be his lawyer's appearance, their preconceptions are different at a first glance with Fujieda's impression coming off as a working functioning adult with Towa is someone who lives a messy lifestyle.

Towa and Fujieda are designed and written parallel to each other. There are a lot of similarities in their design if you place two of them together. The details in Fujieda's design further emphasize that Fujieda is Towa’s mirror.

Both Towa and Fujieda have unkempt hair, Both have numbed facial expressions: Where Towa is apathetic and detached Fujieda Came off as cold and robotic as a result of the pain they experienced. Fujieda has the same dark colors as Towa in his casual design even in the art book colors of the clothes are meant to reflect each other like a mirror.

Another powerful similarity is best seen in their scars,  their different scars, and their placement a reflection of their mental state and reaction to what is done to them. Towa’s scars are made by cuts from a blade, and Fujiedas's scars are belt marks, burns, and cigarette burns. Fujiedas's scars are made by the abuse from his parents, and Towas scars are made by his customers through his mothers' euphoria sessions. both abused and scared by their parental figures mentally and figuratively.

Where Fujieda’s are hidden from plain sight and Towa’s scars are easily seen by others. Towa’s scars symbolize how Towa cannot surpass the trauma buried underneath that leaks to the surface, Fujieda distances himself and hides a part of himself from others

Their being different highlights that they had different experiences that are seen in their scars but they are similar to each other yet different which is why they are equal.

#uiro yamada #slow damage #fujieda ryo #ryo fujieda #character design #ryou fujieda #fujieda ryou #my meta

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

He held him as a baby. All the anger and regret of months trying to cover up a scandal melted away seeing him for the first time. Looked down into those big, beautiful eyes. Izuku was different from his other children. Smaller. Smaller than even Shouto when he was born months later. He held a certain innocence. Something about being born by chance instead of created with a purpose. And his enthusiasm for life was infectious. His other children seemed so melancholy.

Enji had Izuku visit the house every now and then to try and cheer them up. It worked on him. Just having him around set him at ease after a long day of work. Even his quirklessness was endearing. Like a rare, endangered animal or a fragile, one-of-a-kind treasure. Something precious and delicate that needed to be protected.But what good are my feelings if they didn’t reach him? Enji gritted his teeth behind pressed lips and squeezed his eyes shut.He kept his name off the records to hide his connection, so he had no legal claim. Spent millions to keep people quiet, so Izuku believed he wasn’t wanted. Denied him his own life unless he fought his brother for favor, and his son realized the favor wasn’t worth it.

And now, Enji waited too long to speak up. He assumed it was a challenge, a game of chicken or something, so he waited to hear from Izuku or Inko first. A week later, Izuku must have assumed he was happy someone else took him. The boy himself seemed happy. All Might couldn’t keep his hands off him in the press conference. And the infirmary. Enji’s skin crawled. Inko once told him Izuku didn’t like to be touched, yet he ran right into All Might’s waiting arms with a smile.I pushed him away, and now I’ll never hold him again. Just like I’ll never hold Touya. At that, he wept.

Diving into Endeavor’s perspective on the situation was fascinating. Making him an irredeemable monster who only sees his family as controllable game pieces, as some parts of the fandom often do, just wasn’t interesting. Someone who genuinely loves his children but can’t look past his own perspective to show them the kind of love they need not only makes for a better story, but also made it easier to write. I think i finished the Endeavor POV in a single sitting with only minor edits later.

Notice how even in his descriptions of his love for Izuku, it’s almost all about how Izuku made him feel, with no consideration for anyone else’s feelings. There’s the ‘innocence’ comment, which not only infantilizes Izuku with an implied assumption that he’s incapable of accomplishing as much as his half siblings, but that those siblings new from birth that their existence had anterior motives. To the bit about bringing Izuku around his house because he made him happy, completely ignoring what bringing around the child of an affair would do psychologically to the child himself and the rest of his already straining family. And the straight-up dehumanization of Izuku via his quirklessness; comparing him to positive objects like treasure doesn’t change the fact that it’s literally objectifying.

But all that leads into self reflection that he knows is too little too late. He did less than nothing to give Izuku any indication he was cared for because Endeavor’s reputation was more important. So much so that he compares Izuku running away to pretend to be All Might’s son may as well be on the same level of irreversible distance as Touya, who’s dead.

#answers #the turn

[sevensided]

I love your analysis and theories so much and I'm really curious to see what you think about everything in general. But what are your thoughts on the El and Mike fight and about the whole 'i love you' thing that mike can't tell her?

Thank you, this is really kind! I'm flattered that you think any of my rambles are interesting.

Okay, so... I rewatched the California scenes the other day because I wanted to see if my first impression of that story line had altered since the premiere. In my opinion, right now, Mike is still thinking about Eleven. When Will says that it can be hard to tell the truth out of fear, that's when you see the cogs begin to turn. I think that until that point Mike is oblivious and stuck in his own world, even if it's fairly obvious to anyone else with half a brain as to what's going on.

The fact that Mike can't admit his love to El is significant for a few reasons. First, although Mike has broken this rule a dozen times in the past two seasons, he was the first person to come up with 'friends don't lie', and I wonder if that has started to bother him. As mentioned, I know that he has broken this rule and he enjoys being the martyr about this, but two things can be true at once: he's allowed to feel shame and guilt for not reciprocating El's feelings whilst being judgemental that she was keeping things from him in S3. He's a hypocrite but he's also 14-15 years old.

Second, it's indicated a number of times over S3-4 that Mike does see El differently; she is distinct from his other friends. Now, he thinks it's because he's in love with her, which might be true, but I consider the 'species' argument in S3 and I feel that struck a nerve. Mike uses distancing language when he speaks to/about El, calling her incredible and a 'superhero'. The problem is that these are descriptors and they don't assign any depth of meaning or feeling to their relationship. This is how Mike sees her. He's not lying in this respect.

I do buy the theory that Mike can't express his love to El because he doesn't really love her, and that he's afraid she will be 'scared' to hear his truth. That's where the penny drops during Will's monologue in the junkyard scene. They're talking about two separate things but the underlying theme is similar: how can you be your authentic self when you're afraid it is not good enough? This is a constant issue for Mike, and it's why I've suggested previously that one reason he latches onto El is because she's genuinely cool and powerful and he's amazed in S1 that someone like that could like someone like him. But Mike isn't 'less than' El - he is his own person, and he doesn't need her to make himself cool. Likewise, El doesn't need Mike to validate her as an individual. They can survive without each other. They are strong enough to stand apart. I think this is the big lesson they need to learn: independence.

As for where that leaves Mike and Will... look, I won't lie: I am torn about what S4 has delivered so far. I am convinced about what will happen in Will's story - Mike has always been our problem child and the one that is hardest to read, probably because he doesn't actually know what he wants. He is contrary. That is a staple of his character. But where Mike is strongest is when he is protecting the people he loves, and this is where Will comes into it. Will has been Mike's due north since S1. Will brings Mike back to reality; he grounds him. It's why Mike always pauses when Will challenges him; why Will's judgement means more than Dustin's or Lucas'. Mike cares about what Will thinks. I'm less convinced that he cares what El thinks, or he would change how he's acting with her.

I do think that the tension around Mike confessing his love for El is actually about his love for El. It's not a red herring. But I do think that, as Finn said during the S4 promotion, Mike gets kicked into gear when people that he loves are in danger. When or if Will is put in danger this season, I really think that will be the trigger for Mike to realise that his feelings have been pointing elsewhere all along - they've been reorientated 'north', to his Will.

#byler #mike wheeler #el hopper #will byers #answered #thank you so much for this - what a great question!

[malevolent-muse]

The Price of Silence - Barisi Fan Fiction

After reconnecting with his former mentor, Barba, Carisi becomes concerned when Barba brings up an unfortunate event from Carisi's past. Later, Barba admits to hiding a deep, dark secret and cautions Carisi to keep his distance. Against his best interest, Carisi ignores Barba's warning, and he finds himself becoming something he had never thought he would be - a victim. In the end, Barba tries to make amends, but it is too late.

Warning: This is a DARK fic. This story includes EXPLICIT NON-CON CONTENT. Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. (Word Count: 20,000+ Chaptered version on AO3)

Chapter 1

Hearing a knock at the door, Sonny tilted his head up to see who was wandering around Hogan Place long after the sun had set. 

"Barba!" Sonny exclaimed softly, as he lowered the box of items he had been holding carefully onto his desk's surface. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to congratulate you, Counselor," the former SVU ADA replied as he sauntered into the shared office space and looked around at the vacant desks.

"I thought you were still out in Iowa," Sonny said, his voice strained as he tried to keep down his excitement at seeing his friend and former mentor.

“Oh, I am," Barba replied causally. "But I had some family stuff I needed to take care of in town. It's a short visit, which is why I didn't tell anyone I was coming. But then I heard you had turned in your badge to work under Chief Hadid as SVU's new ADA."

Slightly humbled and a bit embarrassed by Barba's concise assessment, Sonny shuffled a bit, putting his hands in his pockets. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity," he finally said.

"Nor should you have," Barba replied. "Though you'll have to forgive me for dropping in on you like this. I wanted to see how you were settling in."

Spreading his arms wide, Sonny indicated the stacks of paperwork already accumulating on his desk. 

"It's my first day, and I already feel like I'm drowning."

"That's the law, Carisi," Barba retorted as he stepped closer. "You're always going to be drowning in paperwork. Once you get yourself settled, you can start treading water. Win a couple of cases, and you'll be swimming in no time."

Sonny huffed in self-derision. "Speaking of swimming, what's that saying about lawyers and sharks? Something along the lines of both always being out for blood?"

“Actually, I think it's: Why don't sharks attack lawyers?" Barba chuckled before answering. "Professional courtesy." 

Grinning at the joke, Sonny felt a sense of familiarity wash over him. It had been months since they had last seen each other, but in typical Barba fashion, his old mentor never missed a beat.

"You know," Sonny sighed. "I'm glad you're here, Barba. It's good to see a friendly face at the end of my first day. It's been... well, it's been stressful."

"Not an easy transition?"

"No. Definitely not easy."

”Well, you're still getting settled. I wouldn't let it bother you too much."

“Thanks," Sonny mumbled, a bit awkwardly, not knowing what to say next.

"Of course," Barba replied, coming even closer and clapping a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Though I was wondering, did you ever get that business with the bar exam worked out?"

”Oh?" Sonny wondered, a sudden pit forming in his stomach. "That's not really something I've thought about in a while."

"No, of course not," Barba said dismissively. "It's not your fault, after all. "

"I would never cheat."

"I didn't mean to imply that you would."

"C'mon, Barba," Sonny groaned. "Don't do this to me, okay? I passed the exam, plain and simple. It might be surprising that a guy from Fordham Law managed to pass on his first try, but we can't all be Harvard prodigies."

Barba smirked. "Well, you were my protege. I am proud of you."

“Again, thank you."

“You’ll have to forgive me for bringing it up, Carisi. I am trying to look out for you," Barba stated. “But if you’ll remember, back when one of your classmates got caught cheating on the exam, I told you to retake it. That sort of thing can tank a career.”

"But I passed."

"I know, Sonny," Barba explained. "But you knew the guy, and you went to school with him. The fact that he cheated while you both were taking the test could be seen as suspicious."

“He wasn’t just some guy. His name was Kip. And I wasn't the only one besides him taking the test that day," Sonny growled. "Also, it's not like I conspired with him in any way. You know me, Barba. I would never—"

"But does your new boss know that?" the former ADA interrupted. "Sonny, I'm worried about your career. If someone were to find out about the circumstances around your exam—"

"They won't!" Sonny interrupted. "Jeez. I passed the bar years ago. No one is looking into those specifics now."

"Not yet," Barba countered. "But Sonny, you're in the big leagues now, and you're going up against seasoned professionals. And I hate to say it, but some of them are out for blood. They will notice the gap between when you passed the bar and now and see it as a reason to undermine you. I want you to be prepared."

"And I am!" Sonny said defensively. "I don't have the experience that you have, but I know what's at risk if I can't do my job. I'm not going to fail at this."

"I know you won't. But I want you to be prepared if it does come up. You should get ahead of it while you can. Besides, I don't want a call to come out of the blue and for someone to start asking questions I don't want to answer."

"Well, you wouldn't tell anyone, would you?" 

Barba paused, saying nothing.

“Rafa?” Sonny prodded.

Sighing, Barba replied, “Honestly, Sonny, I don’t know.”

“Rafa!”

“Don’t ‘Rafa’ me,” Barba grumbled. “Life is complicated. And if someone came and asked me, I might have to share what information I have about the situation with him… or her.”

“You’d tell Ms. Hadid?”

“I never said that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That you should tell her, Sonny,” Barba huffed. “You know what, I shouldn’t have come. After everything happening with my—“ Here, Barba abruptly stopped short. Taking a breath, he continued, “I’m not in a good headspace right now. I’m sorry.”

“Barba,” Sonny said softly, “please tell me you won’t speak to anyone about what happened with Kip. He was a fool for doing what he did but I had nothing to do with it, I swear. I just want a shot at being a lawyer and actually doing some good.”

“And you’ve managed to put yourself in a position where you’ll get that shot,” Barba muttered. “I just—“

“You want me to bargain with you?” Sonny interjected. “C’mon, Barba. What is it that you want? Why did you really come down here? You want me to beg you to keep your mouth shut?”

Looking over at him with sad eyes, Barba replied, “You are too noble a man to trade your honor for my silence, Sonny. I can’t promise you much, but I can promise that if the situation arises, what information I am forced to share, I won’t do it willingly.”

Sonny nodded slowly, taking in Barba's words. 

"Thank you," he said after a tense moment. "I appreciate that."

Barba nodded back at him, looking almost sullen. 

"I don't want to ruin your career or anything, Sonny. You deserve this chance. Just be careful, okay?” 

"I will,” Sonny promised, though his chest still felt tight from the air of contention that still lingered. "And thanks for coming down here. It means a lot to me."

"Of course," Barba said with a tight-lipped smile, as he made his way back towards the office door. "Just don't expect me to make a habit of it. I've got my own problems to deal with." Reaching the exit, he paused and turned back to Sonny. "Oh, and Carisi? Good luck."

"Thanks," Sonny replied. "I'll need it."

With a parting nod, Barba left the room, leaving Sonny alone with his thoughts and a sinking feeling in his stomach. As the new ADA stood there, staring at the empty doorway, he couldn't help but wonder what had truly prompted Barba's visit. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than merely a social call. 

Chapter 2

Wandering into the bar, Sonny glanced around the dimly lit room. While there was a good crowd of people, the interior of the establishment was spacious. Most of the patrons were gathered around the counter, sharing drinks and conversation. He wasn't sure what kind of establishment he was entering, but he knew who he was searching for.

Or, to be more accurate, who he was looking for. 

He hadn’t seen Rafael Barba for months. Yet with information that the former ADA was back in Manhattan, Sonny had easily stepped back into the role of a detective and had been tracking down his former mentor.

The chatter, music, and various noises filling the room were distracting. Still, after a moment or two spent scanning the various individuals sitting at the counter, Sonny then moved along. He was trying to make a quick assessment of the customers seated at the booths all while keeping his hands close to his sides and his movements slow and fluid so as to remain inconspicuous. Just as he began to think that he had yet again failed to locate Barba, he came to the last booth in the corner of the restaurant. There, sitting alone, wearing a rumpled three-piece suit, and staring blankly at a tumbler of whiskey, was Rafael Barba.

Sonny exhaled deeply before sliding onto the hard wooden bench opposite his friend.

Beneath a hooded brow, dark green eyes darted up as Sonny shook off his suit jacket and settled in his seat.

“What are you doing here?” Barba grumbled.

“Thought I’d return the favor you paid me on my first day and drop in on you,” Sonny casually remarked.

Catching the eye of a passing waitress, he lifted his hand as an indication that he required her service.

“Why?” Sonny continued. “Have I caught you by surprise?”

“No.”

The waitress Sonny had flagged down approached and he made sure to keep the inflection in his tone calm and casual. Though, if he was being honest with himself, he worried his countenance would betray his deeper concerns as he ordered a round of drinks from her.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having. And why don’t you get him another round as well?” he stated, his voice raised so he could be heard over the other patrons and the clinking of glasses.

Fishing his wallet from his pocket, Sonny pulled out his card and handed it to their server, asking her to open a tab for him.

A second after the waitress left, Barba spoke.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked, his voice strained through gritted teeth. 

“Your mother’s funeral was on Friday. I figured you’d still be in town. My condolences, by the way. I wish you would’ve let me know. I would’ve come.”

“But —“

Cutting Barba off, Sonny hastily added, “Liv called. She said she was having a difficult time reaching you.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem finding me though. What did you do? You didn’t have TARU run a search for my card transactions, did you?”

With a shake of his head, Sonny retorted, “No. Just wore out some shoe leather going from bar to bar looking for you."

“Well, you found me,” Barba remarked, his voice thick with sarcasm as he lifted his cup to his lips and took a sip. “Congratulations.”

Just then, the waitress returned, balancing their drinks on a round plastic tray. Nimbly, she placed each tumbler in front of them.

“Here you are. Anything else I can get for you?”

“We’re fine,” Barba said, a restrained growl resonating in his voice. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Sonny echoed.

He watched the waitress turn and leave to serve other tables and in her wake, she left nothing but silence. It hung in the air between the two men. Sonny, determined not to make Barba upset, waited for his friend to be the first to speak.

Taking a drink from his glass, he tried not to grimace at the burn of the spirit. Sonny wasn’t much one for hard liquor and knew if he attempted to keep pace with Barba, he’d be chugging Pepto come morning.

“You didn’t need to go through all the effort of tracking me down,” Barba finally said.

“I figured if you weren’t answering Captain Benson’s calls, you wouldn’t answer mine either.”

Barba lifted a singular brow.

“You’re not wrong.”

“Good, ‘cause I would hate to think of you actually sending my calls to voice mail. Rafa, man, I got to tell you: What you’re going through is a big deal. And you don’t need to go through it alone.”

“Some things are better dealt with alone.”

“You sure about that?” Sonny quipped back.

“Yes, detective, I’m sure,” Barba said with a deep sigh.

“Detective?”

“Err,” Barba corrected himself. “I mean counselor.”

“It takes some getting used to,” Sonny said with a chuckle.

“Your cases going okay,” Barba asked, using his mistake to redirect the conversation.

“Better than most,” Sonny answered, fidgeting with his glass as he delayed taking another sip of the strong liquor. “I’ve won more cases than I’ve lost.”

“Did you ever talk to Hadid about your classmate? The one who cheated on the bar?”

Jeez, Sonny thought, not this again. Why won’t Barba let this go?

“I know you didn’t care to talk about it much the last time I saw you,” Barba continued. “But I’ve been in your shoes, Sonny. I’ve done the job you’re doing. And I know it’s better to get ahead of potential rumors before they become your downfall.”

“No,” Sonny responded, making an effort not to sound bitter. “I haven’t brought up that with my boss. And I don’t plan to either.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll lose my job,” he snapped.

“Not the end of the world. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“No, Barba,” Sonny challenged, “you resigned.”

“I was charged with second-degree murder.”

“And then you got acquitted. You didn’t have to resign.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Barba emphatically stated.

“The right thing?” Sonny argued. “Barba, it’s not about what is right and what is wrong. It’s about you thinking that you’re alone in all of this.”

“I am alone.”

With a sigh, Sonny countered, “No. You’re not.”

“Strong words coming from someone whose mother is still alive.”

Sonny’s jaw dropped at Barba’s insensitive comment. Though he managed to snap it closed again just as quick. Then, taking a breath in through his nose, he looked down at the whiskey still in his cup. Figuring he could use a dose of liquid courage, he lifted the whiskey to his lips and downed a couple drams at once.

“Well,” Sonny stated, “I know what it’s like to feel alone, even when there are people around who care. But you don’t have to be alone, Rafa. You have friends. And every one of them, myself included, wants to make sure that you know that we care. That we are here for you.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Barba replied, “I just don’t see the point anymore.”

A bit shocked, Sonny came to the abrupt conclusion that Barba was spiraling. Drinking alone at a bar after the death of one’s mother was one thing, but saying that there wasn’t a point anymore was drastic. It seemed incredibly out of character for his former mentor to say something like that. 

“The point in what?” he quickly asked, seeking clarification. “And please don’t say life. Trust me, Barba, life is always worth living, even when it’s painful.”

Though their corner of the bar was dimly lit, Sonny noticed a smirk briefly flash across Barba’s features.

“No,” he remarked. “The point in pretending.”

“Pretending? I don’t know what you mean.”

Finishing his initial glass and starting in on the one Sonny had purchased for him, Barba explained, “I mean that I don’t see a point in pretending that deep down I’m not … that there’s not something seriously broken inside of me. For as long as I can remember, I didn’t want to disappoint her. My father I could give two shits about, but not my mother. I wanted so badly to show her I could be the good and decent son she deserved. And without her here, I feel so … empty.”

“So you thought you’d handle this sort of loss easily?” Sonny scoffed. “Barba, how many drinks did you have before I got here? You may be an ass, but you’re not broken.”

“I think I’m on my fifth. But don’t think I’m going to forget you calling me an ass to my face though,” Barba answered, his voice dark but tinged with humor.

Sonny let out a low huff. 

“I should get you home.”

“No,” Barba countered. “You should leave. Thanks for the drink, Sonny, but I think it’s best that I find my own way back.”

“And why is that? Oh, right, because you think you’re broken and undeserving of—“

“You don’t think I’m broken?” Barba interrupted. “Sonny, if I wanted … I could—“

Stopping abruptly, the former ADA instead took another drink.

“You could what?” Sonny prodded.

With a shake of his head, Barba replied, “I’m not going to say it.”

“And here I thought you said there was no point in not pretending anymore.”

Sonny was just antagonizing the former ADA at this point. Still, it was better than the alternative, which was leaving Barba alone with his thoughts. Mourning the loss of a parent could be destabilizing. And what Sonny wanted most was just to ensure his friend’s well-being. However, given the context of their conversation, he doubted that Barba would actually tell him anything significant.

“Tell me, counselor,” Barba retorted, emphasizing his words with thinly veiled mockery, “for as long as you’ve known me, how many relationships have I been in?”

“Is that a trick question? You’re married to the law, Barba, and she is a jealous mistress.”

Huffing in quiet laughter, Barba replied, “That she is.” Then, a bit more serious, he added, “I didn’t date because not having a relationship was better than having one and disappointing my mother.”

“Mothers often have strong opinions on who their children should date. I know mine does. And let me tell you, I definitely don’t agree that all I need is a nice Catholic girl. But, ah, if you don’t mind me asking, how do you think your relationships would have disappointed your mother?”

“By dating men.”

Sensing heat rise to his cheeks, Sonny bowed his head to hide his embarrassment. Barba’s sudden admission left him reeling. He had never truly understood the idiom 'knocked down with a feather,' but now he felt it was entirely applicable. The shock was profound, and it made him feel terrible for not knowing something so important about someone he thought he knew well. 

“I didn’t realize…” he stammered. “I thought…”

“You thought what I wanted you to think,” Barba admitted. “I only mentioned my past relationships that were with women because I didn’t want my sexual preferences to draw the wrong sort of attention; especially not in the workplace.”

Taking a moment to process, Sonny thoughtfully said, “You’re right. It’s no one’s business but your own. And, clearly, I had no idea. Not that changes anything, I am still your friend.”

Barba heaved a heavy sigh.

“You know,” he muttered, “part of me is glad that I never had to tell her. And I feel bad about that, like I’m happy she’s gone. I’m not though. But to her, being queer wasn’t just a sin, it was unacceptable. She would’ve seen it as a failure on her part as a mother.”

“That sounds more like relief than happiness,” Sonny stated, trying his best to comfort the other man sitting across from him.

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“They can be. But not in this case, I don’t think. And it doesn’t make you broken, not being bi or even feeling some relief from having to share that information with someone who —“

Interrupting, Barba interjected, “That’s not why I said I feel broken.”

“Then why?” Sonny prompted.

Instead of answering, the former ADA took the opportunity to drain the last of the whiskey from his cup. Then, his eyes casting around, Barba caught the attention of their server and wordlessly raised his empty glass.

“You think another drink is going to get you out of answering my question?” Sonny asked, his tone serious and somber.

“I think getting another drink might convince me to answer it,” Barba responded as the server approached yet another round.

“Thanks,” he replied carelessly, his attention focused on his now replenished beverage. Silence lingered between them as Barba rotated the glass, almost absentmindedly, only taking sips of the dark liquor sparingly.

Sonny waited. He could be patient.

Finally, Barba spoke, “It’s like I have a loaded gun.”

“Do you?” Sonny quickly asked in reply, his eyes going wide. 

Though he was sure it was just a figment of his imagination, the buzz of conversation around them seemed to become eerily still. His mouth going dry at the thought of a loaded weapon in a crowded bar, Sonny waited for Barba to answer. 

Rolling his eyes, Barba said, “No, Carisi. I don’t. I’m making an analogy.”

“An analogy for what?”

“I thought it was obvious: I’m not dealing with this well. I dunno, maybe I’m the loaded gun. And the strangest thing is I’m desperate, okay? And yet I’m terrified that I’m going to do something drastic. I … I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Rafa,” Sonny said, confidently, “you’re not capable of that sort of cruelty. Trust me on this one.”

Taking yet another drink, Barba asked, “And what if I said the person I’m worried about hurting is you?”

A lump stuck in Sonny’s throat at this new admission and he did his best to gulp it down. Leaning forward, he made an attempt to pull Barba’s glass away from him.

“Now you’ve really had too much to drink.”

Yanking away, Barba pulled his drink back toward himself and hissed, “You don’t get it, Sonny! It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. You’ve handed me this loaded weapon and then have been all but provoking me to use it. That’s why I want you to tell Hadid. Please tell her and rid me of any possible leverage I could hold over you.”

“Leverage?” Sonny asked, taken aback. “Are you really saying you’d try blackmailing me over not disclosing someone else’s mistake? Why? For what purpose?”

“Because I am broken,” Barba admitted. “Because the idea of coercing a friend to do things he would never do if given a choice has somehow taken up a permanent residence in my mind.”

“You’re not that kind of person.”

Shaking his head, Barba said, “I don’t know anymore. All I know with I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. And if that means using what I have to get what I want, then so be it.”

“That’s not a solution.”

“Then what would you have me do? Just sit here and pretend that everything is okay? That I don’t have demons gnawing away at me, trying to get me to do the unthinkable? And I could do it, Sonny, I know I could. I need to be stopped,” Barba sputtered in frustration, tears coming to his eyes. “Why won’t you stop me?”

Sighing, Sonny reached over for his jacket before sliding out of the booth. He stood silently, sliding his arms into the sleeves before he answered.

“I don’t have all the answers. But I do know that if you were to act on a compulsion like that, it would be an act of self-destruction rather than one of malice or intention to harm.

“You think I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“No, Barba, I don’t. Now, I’m going to go close out the tabs then we’re going before you confess to anything else and end up passing out before I get you home.”

Almost as though he had been defeated, Barba nodded silently. Bowing his head against the onslaught of tears, dark strands of his normally well-coiffed hair hanging down over his brow. 

Walking over to the bar, Sonny quickly finished paying for both his and Barba’s tabs. He took his time, giving his friend time to dry his tears in relative privacy. Then upon his return to the booth, he watched as Barba downed the last of his drink before standing up. As he swayed slightly, Sonny caught his arm, steadying him.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, reassuringly.

Barba said nothing, instead he just leaned against his former mentee as Sonny led him out of the bar. As they walked out into the night, Sonny couldn’t help but feel a weight settle over him. Had he been right to reassure Barba that everything was fine or had he inadvertently put them both on a trajectory that would ultimately lead to catastrophe?

Chapter 3

Sonny's fingers were steady as he hit the button on the elevator to take him up to Barba's hotel room floor. He’d been at this particular extended stay before, after the time at the bar. But that had been a while back. Since then, he hadn’t heard from Barba and neither had their mutual friends. Sonny was beginning to wonder if his former mentor had skipped town without telling anyone.

As the elevator doors rumbled open, Sonny stepped out onto the plush hotel corridor, feeling a strange sense of unease. 

Barba didn’t know he was coming. And after he had tracked the former counselor last time, Barba had made it known his unannounced presence was not appreciated. As Sonny approached the door, he could hear nothing but the sounds of his own heart beating wildly in his ears. He hesitated, wondering if he should just turn around and leave. 

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. A moment later, the door opened, and rumpled-looking Barba stood in the doorway. Standing there without a tie or suit jacket and his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the older man’s vest was splayed open with all its buttons undone. Despite his state of relative undress and shorter stature, Barba looked as imposing as ever.

“Absolutely not," Barba said, standing his ground, preventing Sonny from entering. “Carisi, go home.”

“I see you’ve already started for the night,” Sonny said, raising a finger to indicate the half-drunk tumbler of dark liquor in his former mentor’s hand.

“What’s it matter to you?” Barba challenged.

“It matters if end up passing out and choking on your own vomit.”

“I’m not going to—“ Barba said, his voice rising before he abruptly stopped speaking. Taking a moment, he then said much more quietly. “Fine. Come in. Say your piece and then leave. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Sonny said with a little bit of mocking respect.

Still, feeling relieved, he stepped inside the hotel room. Glancing around, he noticed that the room was spacious and tidy. At a nearby desk lay a stack of paperwork and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. Slung over the back of the chair, was Barba’s suit jacket with the brightly colored handkerchief spilling out of the lapel pocket.

“What is it?” Barba grumbled, interrupting Sonny’s visual analysis of the area.

A little nervous, Sonny didn’t answer right away. Instead, he made a bit of small talk.

“You working on a case?” he asked, jerking his head to the side towards the desk and its stack of papers.

“No,” Barba grumbled. “My mother’s estate is taking far more time to reconcile than I anticipated.”

“Can I help?”

Fixing the younger man with a glare, Barba said, “Estate law is especially complex. It’s best that you just stick to the small portion of the law you practice, counselor.”

Raising his hands in a small gesture of defeat, Sonny replied, “Okay, Barba. Have it your way.”

“If I had my way,” Barba said, gruffly, “I would be drinking in peace, not answering pointless questions about my day. So if you want to stay, you need to tell me why you are here in the first place.”

“I… um…,” Sonny faltered, “I’m sorry, Barba. I was trying to do what you asked me to do.”

“Which was what, exactly?”

“I went to Ms. Hadid to tell her about the incident involving my classmate’s bar examination.”

“How did that conversation go?”

“It, uh, didn’t actually end up happening. I got cold feet.”

“Jeez, Carisi,” Barba grumped, “did you really have to come here in person to tell me that?”

“Hey,” Sonny countered, “you don’t know Hadid like I do. She’s uncompromising and quick to pass judgment. I haven’t eaten all day because I’ve been so nervous to talk to her about it. I know it’s a small thing but it still could have serious repercussions.”

“Which is why—“

“Which is why,” Sonny said as he interrupted and echoed Barba’s words, “you told me to take care of it. But I’ve decided, I’m not going through with telling her. In fact, I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation from the other night. And I’m going to call you out on your bluff.”

“My bluff?”

“Yeah, Barba, your bluff. Because at the end of the day, I know you’re not capable of ‘hurting’ anyone. And I’m going to prove it to you.”

“How?”

Sonny laughed, “I’m not going to tell Hadid about Kip so you’re going to have to blackmail me.”

“Carisi,” came Barba’s stern reply, “that’s not funny.”

“Sure it is, Barba,” he countered with a big grin. “Do your worse.”

Barba’s brows knitted together in confusion.

“What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m trying to prove to you that you don’t have to pretend to not be broken and callously cruel because you are in fact neither of those things.”

Eyes narrowing, Barba took a step forward. His voice low and dangerous, he said, “You are putting yourself in a position I guarantee you don’t want to be in. You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Sonny sighed, “Why are you fighting me on this?”

“Because,” Barba said vehemently, “my demons are my own. I will work through them on my own.”

“How?! By drinking yourself to death?”

Angrily, Barba turned away. Walking over to the desk, he set his drink down with a heavy thunk.

“Rafa?” Sonny gently prodded.

“Leave, Dominick,” Barba said curtly.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Sonny said, approaching his former mentor and laying a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder.

Spinning around, Barba knocked his hand away. Looking at him with what could’ve only been pure rage, Barba spat as he gave him a shove, “LEAVE!”

Sonny stepped back, raising his arms up in a non-threatening gesture. “Hey,” he said calmly, “let’s talk, okay? There’s no need to get physical.”

Taking a step forward and with his fists clenched, Barba growled, “You think I won’t?”

Worried his former mentor might actually take a swing at him, Sonny said, “Barba, are you being serious right now? I have the advantage of both training and being bigger. You wouldn’t win.”

“I want you to GO!” Barba shouted, coming closer and giving Sonny another push.

“No,” Sonny countered. Backing away from the door, he walked over to the bed and sat at the end of it with a huff, the crisp bedclothes wrinkling beneath his weight. Taking off his suit jacket, he folded it and set it next to him.

He had no intention of leaving, not when Barba so clearly needed someone to help calm him down. After all the guidance his former mentor had provided him, he felt compelled to return the favor and help Barba work through the emotional upheaval his mother’s death had caused. And while Sonny was trying to outwardly convey a sense of calm composure, Barba was clearly in a state of distress.

With one hand on his hip and the other buried in his hair, Barba paced.

“Barba,” Sonny said softly, “calm down and just talk to me.”

“Calm down?!” Barba replied through quick breaths. “Sonny, you’ve gone too far. And now you’re sitting on my bed like … like …” Biting the knuckles on his hand, Barba turned away. However, Sonny could hear him say, “Oh my god, he’s on my bed.”

“Listen, okay?” Sonny said, his voice composed and steady. “I’m sorry I made you upset but I think it’s important to discuss what exactly set you off. I’ve never seen you this worked up before.”

Suddenly turning to face him, Barba said, “If I do anything, it will be your fault, Sonny. You understand that, don’t you? You … you pushed me too far.”

“Pushed you to do what?” Sonny asked. 

“For crying out loud!” Barba exclaimed as quick steps brought him over to the end of the bed. Grabbing Sonny’s vest and the layers of shirt beneath it, he pulled. “You have to leave!”

Hearing the sound of the popping of stitches, Sonny raised his arm and knocked Barba’s clutching hand away.

“Barba! Get your hands off of me. What the actual fuck are you doing?”

What occurred next, happened too quickly for Sonny to stop it. Barba raised an open hand and struck the younger man across the face.

Shocked, Sonny’s fingertips flew to his left cheek. The pain was quickly dissipating but it still hurt. Barba had been right, he had pushed him too far.

Still too stunned to speak, Sonny went to grab his jacket and stand. If Barba was so hell-bent on having him gone, he’d go. Glaring, he raised himself to his feet but was knocked further back onto the bed when Barba gave him a forceful shove. 

“Wha—?!”

Barba moved quickly, getting on the bed and pinning Sonny down. Sonny struggled, trying to push the other man off of him.

“Barba,” he huffed, “what are you doing? Get off of me.”

His hands up and gripping Barba’s arms, Sonny kept trying to force him off. But he didn’t have the upper position and the other man’s weight was centered on Sonny’s torso, effectively pinning him. A formidable struggle ensued, and while Barba attempted to grab his wrists, Sonny just tried to get away from the situation without harming Barba.

Thrashing around, and losing a shoe in the process, Sonny managed to swing one leg over the other and turn his hips at an angle. As his foot caught on the fabric of the bedspread, he used the leverage it gave to turn himself over onto his belly and to push himself back and towards the head of the bed. Now, he just needed to get his legs under him and he’d be able to shake Barba off.

A knee planted itself forcefully in the small of his back and it knock the air out of his lungs.

Having finally secured Sonny’s right wrist with his left hand, Barba leaned over him. He fished  something out from underneath one of the pillows, it must’ve been tucked under there all along: a looped restraint made from tightly woven nylon. With deft fingers, Barba wrapped it around Sonny’s wrist and firmly secured it with an attached band of wide velcro.

While Barba’s intentions were now becoming clear, Sonny found himself slow to react. It was as though his brain simply couldn’t fathom his former mentor being in the possession of such an item, let alone using it on him. And so, despite his struggles, he felt in a state of shock as he watched Barba pull out and wrap a second restraint around his left wrist. 

Feeling the weight come off of his back, Sonny could finally breathe again.

“Barba!” Sonny yelled, yanking at the restraints. “Let me go!”

“Quiet!” Barba snapped back, his tone hushed, as he hastily removed Sonny’s smartwatch from his wrist and pulled his phone from his pocket. Turning off the devices, Barba added, “Do you really want security to be called up here?!”

“Then let me go,” Sonny replied through gritted teeth.

The former ADA did not respond. Instead, he backed off until he was at the end of the bed. Then scooting off of it entirely, he slumped onto the floor. Only the top of his head now visible, Sonny watched as Barba’s fingers intertwine within the strands of his hair. His hands now balling into fists, he pulled at his short dark locks as he began to shake. And all Sonny could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and Barba’s short gasps of distress. 

Unwilling perpetrator, the phrase flashed across Sonny’s mind. It was a term often used by the defense to negate the guilt of their client. It was a tactic to manipulate the jury into thinking that somehow the defendant wasn’t fully culpable for their actions. 

But had Sonny inadvertently pushed his former mentor in becoming just that? Barba had been drinking before he got there. And though not as drunk as he was the night at the bar, it was definitely a factor in all this. 

Taking a deep breath, knew he had to somehow rewind tonight’s events. It was paramount, for both their sakes, that this ‘misunderstanding’ not go any farther. 

“Rafael,” he said as calmly as he could manage, “you don’t want to do this. You don’t want to hurt me. Let me go and no one has to know.”

“Stop,” Barba stammered, his volatile emotions cutting through and shaking his voice. “Don’t talk to me like some sort of negotiator.”

Getting up from the floor, Barba stalked out of the room. Entering the ensuite bathroom, he shut the door and locked it. And dread settled in Sonny’s stomach at the sound of the bolt sliding into place.

“Barba!” Sonny called out, though not too loudly. He didn’t want to risk drawing more attention to the situation from anyone potentially staying in the neighboring rooms. 

However, the door remained firmly closed.

Struggling against the restraints, Sonny tried to bring his hands together to undo the fastenings. When that effort became clearly impossible, he lowered his face to the velcro straps securing the loops and tried pulling them off by gripping them with his teeth. When they remained unmoved, Sonny twisted his hands around until he could see that there was a secondary adjustable hook that latched the straps in place once they were secured.

Fuck, Sonny silently fumed

His mind raced with the various circumstances that held led him to this situation. Feeling helpless, he weighed his options. He could start yelling again, it would surely anger Barba but it was the only possible way he could get someone to intervene. Of course, security would come and subsequently call the police. They were in Manhattan, so it was likely SVU would get called if the responding uniformed officers suspected any sort of sexual element to the assault.

Ugh. No, not that.

Then again, the unis might just recognize either him or Barba and call SVU anyway.

Sonny turned red with shame just at the thought of Captain Benson being called down to handle the unit’s both current and former ADA getting into such a predicament.

The reality was that fighting against the restraints around his wrists was pointless and his only viable option was that he needed to talk some sense into Barba and get him to undo the velcro straps. 

“Barba,” Sonny called again, his voice just above a whisper.

When there was no response, Sonny found himself with nothing left to do but fruitlessly struggle. The tight nylon restraints dug into his wrists the more he pulled at them. As the minutes ticked by, he grew tired. Finally giving up, Sonny maneuvered himself into the least uncomfortable position he could manage. 

Settling, Sonny turned his head to lay on one of the displaced pillows and waited for Barba to reemerge. Staring at the nearby digital clock that sat on one of the nearby nightstands, he watched the minutes tick by. With his mind a chaos of emotion and apprehension, Sonny chose to focus on the mundane.

One, two, three … sixty.

Trying to accurately count the seconds, Sonny recited each number every time the minute changed. He didn’t manage to make it through ten minutes before his eyes began to droop. Even though he found it odd that he felt tired enough to fall into an uneasy slumber, part of him was very aware that it was a common coping mechanism for the body to shut down in times of extreme stress and fear. 

Fear: it was never a word he before thought to associate with his former mentor. And yet now, he did.

Chapter 4

The metallic click of the bathroom door being unlocked quickly roused Sonny from unconsciousness. How long he had been out, he didn’t know. But it had been long enough for a wet patch of drool to form under his cheek and on the pillow. Instinctively, he went to wipe his face but was immediately hampered by the restraints still firmly in place.

Craning his neck, Sonny looked over his shoulder to see Barba emerge from the bathroom. The former ADA was clearly no longer being run ragged by his own emotions. Standing there, Barba was neat and presentable. Apparently, he had taken the time to shower and put on a fresh set of clothes.

Not yet fully awake, Sonny mumbled, “What…?”

Coming forward, Barba fiddled with one of the buttons on his sleeve. “What’s done is done. I hate to say it but there’s no turning back now.”

Dread clenched in Sonny’s belly, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you going to kill me?”

“I wouldn’t talk much if I were you,” he said firmly. “I’ll just gag you if you do. And, no, I don’t think killing you will be necessary.”

His mouth suddenly went dry, Sonny’s tongue shifted to the roof of his mouth as he swallowed against the lump forming in his throat.

“Were you sleeping?” Barba asked, his tone unnaturally casual. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Sonny softly confessed.

“Hmm,” Barba hummed in acknowledgment as he walked over to the desk and began searching through one of the drawers. “Good. It’s probably for the best. We’re going to have a late night.”

“Late? Barba, c’mon. Don’t …,” Sonny stammered. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t have me strapped to a bed against my will!”

Barba turned to shoot Sonny a cautionary glare.

“Sorry,” Sonny meekly apologized, remembering Barba’s prior threat about a gag. Then, when the other man resumed his search of the drawer, Sonny carefully asked, “What are you doing with restraints like these, Barba? Did you know I was coming?”

“No,” Barba answered. 

“Then why have them?”

“Why do you think?”

Fear clawed at Sonny’s throat and strained his voice as he asked, “You’ve done this before? Tied someone down to your bed?”

“Yes,” Barba calmly replied. “Though on previous occasions, the other party has always been willing. This, this is a first for me.”

As he spoke, Barba turned, his search over and a pair of scissors in his hands.

“Shit!” Sonny shrieked, renewing his struggle against his bonds, and thrashed helplessly on the bed. “Barba! Don’t! Please just — don’t!”

“Hush!” Barba’s voice interjected like the crack of a whip. “I don’t want to hurt you, Carisi; at least not in a way that will leave scars.”

Sonny’s jaw tightened, as he turned his face down towards the pillow beneath it. Unshed tears were burning at the corners of his eyes and he refused to let them fall. It was a terrible situation to be in but he had to remind himself that he wouldn’t make it any better by panicking. 

Once he felt as though he had his emotions in check, Sonny said, “This is not okay, Barba. You need help, psychological help.”

“And what,” Barba propositioned, as he came over to the side of the bed, “would a shrink tell me that I don’t already know? I know that when I am experiencing uncertainty in my life, I seek control as a form of stability. That’s all this is.”

“Okay, okay,” Carisi huffed, his mind scrabbling for reasons he could give Barba to change their present trajectory. “So if you want control, you have it. You get to decide how this goes, for both of us. But we both know the ramifications if this continues without my consent.”

“You’re offering your consent?”

“No. I didn’t say that,” Sonny immediately retorted. “I’m just saying that if you do anything more than what you have already done, there’s no undoing it. But you have the control. You can choose to undo the restraints and let me go. No harm, no foul.”

“But if I don’t?” Barba postulated. “What then, Carisi? What would you do? Let me answer that for you. You’ll do nothing. You’re your mother’s good Italian Catholic boy with strong traditional values. The shame alone is enough to prevent you from doing anything. And, on the off chance you gather the necessary fortitude to talk to someone about what takes place here tonight, I’m sure the statute of limitations will have long since passed.” 

“But would you be able to live with yourself, knowing what you had done?” Sonny seethed quietly, angry that Barba would manipulate him this way.

“I think so, yes.”

“Then you are not the man I thought you were,” Sonny bitterly admitted. “You really are broken and cruel. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I am sorry I ever trusted you. I am sorry I was ever your friend.”

Barba’s countenance grew dark as he listened to Sonny’s words, the hues of his green eyes shaded under his knitted brow and the muscles in his jaw flexing as he clenched it. Leaning over the bed, Barba’s fingers snaked their way under Sonny’s collar, flipping it up and loosening his tie.

“Hey!” Sonny protested as his tie was lifted up and brought higher up on his neck. “Barba, stop. Listen to me, you’ve got to lism-mhu-eeh.” As the length of silk was slotted between his teeth and pulled tight, the rest of his words were garbled and muffled.

“I think you’ve done enough talking. Shall we begin?”

No! Sonny screamed but without the full use of his lips and tongue, he couldn’t enunciate anything more than strained sounds.

“Relax,” Barba instructed, “or at least, as much as you can. After all, you came here requesting that I blackmail you. And that is what I am doing. This is the price you are paying for my silence. You’ve brought this on yourself.”

But I never thought you’d do anything like this!

Pulling against the restraints, Sonny knew they would not yield, and yet he still tried, flailing on the bed like a fish out of water. He struggled, hoping that there was a chance one of the straps wrapped under the mattress would snap and he’d get free. Barba couldn’t stop him then, that he was sure. And even without his phone and missing a shoe, he’d still run until he was far away from his former mentor as his legs could carry him. 

But each moment he spent contending with the restraints, he could feel the strength ebb from his muscles as they tired with effort. Finally, after many minutes of fighting to free himself, Sonny let his body go limp, yielding himself to the soft comforts of the mattress beneath his belly.

“I know I said it was going to be a long night,” Barba muttered. “But there’s no need to wear yourself out proving my point.”

Lowering the scissors he still held in his hand, he extended them and placed the open blades on either side of Sonny’s shirt sleeve.

Seeing what Barba was doing, Sonny gave a distinct moan of dissent.

“I know, I know,” Barba said, his tone almost placating. “It’s a nice shirt and so is the vest. But for what I have planned, I think it best to have you bare. Don’t worry though. I’ll keep what I can intact. You’ll have clothes to wear when you walk out of here.”

Sonny’s face contorted in fear and disgust as Barba closed the shears together with a grating snip. Trying to protest once more, no distinguishable words came from his mouth as he raged against what was being done to him. And it certainly didn’t stop Barba from meticulously cutting away at the fabric of his clothing. 

It made Sonny sick: the carefulness of Barba’s deliberate actions. Cold metal blades touched his skin with every movement and yet Barba made sure it was only swathes of cotton, linen, and silk being cut.

Closing his eyes, Carisi did his best to avoid having to be present for what was happening. If he could escape, even if it was just in his mind, it was the only way he could rationalize getting through this experience. However, as it turned out, his own thoughts were not the place to seek a reprieve.

How is this even happening? Barba has been one of my closest friends and mentors for years! I trusted him! And now… now this?!

That one simple word: this. It was the only word he could use to describe what was taking place because bringing himself to even think ‘assaulted’ was too much, let alone contemplate the idea of being raped. 

Barba wouldn’t?! Not that. Not after all the lives he’s seen destroyed by it. Not after all the work he has done to put those sorts of perpetrators away. This cannot be happening!

Gulping down his distress, Carisi held still as his clothes were slowly snipped into easily discarded pieces. Once Barba was done, the man stood back and viewed his work. The vestiges of Sonny’s shirt and vest now lay in scattered pieces on the floor.

Reaching down, the tips of Barba’s fingers traced along the smooth skin of Sonny’s spine. 

Sonny shuddered. It made his skin crawl and his stomach soured from knowing the degrading touch he felt belonged to someone he had trusted so completely. 

Naked from the waist up, Sonny tucked his bent arms so that they rested underneath him. Curling in on himself, he buried his face in the plushness of the white hotel pillow. How he wished there was enough slack in the connecting straps so he could bring his hands together and undo the velcro keeping him restrained. 

“Arr-ah,” Sonny tried to speak Barba’s name even though the gag prevented it. But Sonny was desperate. There had to be something he could say that would stop all of this.

“Shhh,” Barba hushed him, moving around to the end of the bed. “We’ve only just gotten started.”

When Sonny felt a hand reach down and wrap around his ankle, he kicked out. Though he didn’t manage to strike Barba, he was rewarded with a sharp and disapproving cluck of the tongue.

“Tsk,” Barba hissed. “Come now, Carisi. I’m not asking for your consent but I do demand your obedience. Otherwise, I’ll have to reconsider going against my word and start hurting you.”

If Sonny had the ability to speak and an ounce of power in this situation, he would’ve mouthed off. But he had a feeling telling Barba something along the lines of ‘bite me’ would have caused the already violating situation to escalate to new heights of depravity. Consequently, Sonny remained compliant as he was stripped of his socks and remaining shoe. 

Pressing his hips firmly into the mattress, Sonny hoped to deter Barba’s efforts at unfastening his belt and pants. But despite this, the other man was firm and methodical. Kneeling over Sonny’s legs, and pinning them to the bed with his shins, Barba’s unyielding fingers slithered down under his hips. Carefully, so as not to tear the fabric with sudden jerking motions, he undid the belt and unbuttoned Sonny’s pants. Once this was accomplished, Barba got off the bed and began to pull at each pant leg. It wasn’t a smooth process as Sonny was forcefully undressed, his pants snagged his underwear and they came down with them.

As the cool air brushed the skin of Sonny’s ass, he let out an unanticipated sob of grief. The last thing he wanted to do was cry but cry he did as he pressed his face into the pillow below. Like his trust, his clothes were now gone. In their place was left a profound sense of betrayal and heightened vulnerability. 

Nothing was said as the younger man cried. Instead of making one of his trademark sassy remarks, Barba moved about the room quietly; picking up and folding the intact clothing and setting them on a nearby chair. The items destroyed by the blades of Barba’s scissors were then discarded in the bin next to the desk.

Finally, coming to stand at the end of the bed, Barba surveyed his handiwork.

“You know Carisi, I have to say it: you are a very pretty specimen. Far more pretty than I think you realize. Had you remained as a detective, I am sure there would’ve eventually been a perp that would’ve noticed. I suppose what I’m saying is: this sort of thing was always inevitable. Just be glad it’s me and not some stranger.”

Turning his head, Sonny shot Barba the most damning glare he could manage.

Fuck you, Barba! He inwardly screamed. Fuck you for ever pretending to be my friend. And fuck you for trying to justify what you are doing, you sick fuck! I fucking hate you! You will burn in hell for this, you disgusting excuse for a man.

“I suppose,” Barba continued, “you should be grateful that I’m doing this to you and not someone more vulnerable. Honestly, Carisi, think about it: I have finally caved to acting out something I’ve only fantasized about. And out of all the people who could’ve pushed me past my breaking point, at least it was you. You know all the resources and tools you’ll need to deal with any sort of trauma. And that’s how I can live with myself because I know, once we’re done, you’ll be fine.”

Fine?! No! Barba! I won’t be fine. And fuck you for trying to twist my sense of integrity and willingness to protect others into a reason for me to be okay with this. This is not okay! 

Anger now surging again, it abated Sonny’s tears. 

I can’t just lay here and take it, he thought. I have to resist. I have to fight!

Pressing his knees together, he tried to keep what shred of dignity he had left as he pulled himself as far away from Barba as he could. Extending his right arm, he wrapped the excess length of nylon tethering him to the bed in his fist. Breathing in deeply, he gave the strap an almighty yank.

“Oh, we’re struggling again, are we? Go ahead, Carisi, wear yourself out. That’s made with the same material they use to make seatbelts,” Barba commented as he observed from the sidelines. “If those straps can withstand high-speed collisions, I very much doubt your tugging at it is going to make a lick of difference. My biggest concern is you’ll yank your shoulder out of its socket.”

Panting and sweating, Sonny ignored Barba and continued to pull at the tether. The bed springs groaned underneath his knees and the mattress began to curve upwards but the woven nylon remained intact. With one last push, he hauled a strap up and back before he felt something in his arm pop. 

“Ah!” He let out a gasp of pain and dropped back down onto the bed.

“Shit, Sonny!” Barba exclaimed, coming over to the right side of the bed. “I literally just said not to—“

Unable to keep quiet, Sonny interrupted Barba with a string of unintelligible expletives.

“Lower your voice,” Barba growled, “and I’ll take off the gag so you can tell me where it hurts.”

Immediately falling silent except for a constant grumble of pain, Sonny did as he was told. Once, Barba had loosened the knot, Sonny spat out the sodden fabric and exclaimed, “Fuck you, you mother fucking son of a bitch!”

With his done exceptionally dark, Barba replied, “Do you want to be in pain? Tell me where it hurts.”

“My fucking elbow,” Carisi growled.

“Good,” Barba replied. “Then it’s just a muscle strain or a small tendon tear.”

Lifting the silk of the tie back up, Barba ignored Sonny’s words of dissent as he retightened the knot.

“No, Barba. Arr-ah!”

“Give me a second,” Barba replied. “I’ll be right back.”

Walking over to the desk, Barba picked up the ice bucket before heading into the bathroom. Moments later, he returned, a plastic sack and a rolled-up hand towel in one hand and a small toiletry bag in the other.

Not wanting Barba to touch him, Sonny still relented when he was told to stretch out his arm. He lay on his left side warily eyeing Barba sat next to him and placed the towel-wrapped-ice on the joint before subsequently securing it by tying the two ends of the plastic bag around it. 

“There,” Barba pronounced. “That should hold for a bit.”

I still hate you, Sonny silently grumbled, though Barba’s small act of kindness had taken the sharpness off of his anger.

Getting up from the right side of the bed, Barba disappeared out of Sonny’s line of sight. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for what he thought was coming next. Maybe if he walked through what he anticipated would happen, it wouldn’t be as terrible when it was actually happening.

There would be the jingle of a belt being unbuckled before the zip of a fly coming undone. Barba would then get right up behind him before pushing his legs apart wide enough he’d have easy access. Then to the worst part: there would be pressure and the tug of skin on skin. It was likely the next repeated motions would create tears in delicate tissue. There would be pain. He would bleed. Barba would climax. And then it would be over.

It will be over, the notion echoed in his head.

“Carisi,” Barba's voice broke through Sonny's thoughts, “you are really not going to like this next bit but I’m going to need you to get on your knees. You can keep your shoulders down and rest your arm but those hips need to be up.”

Glancing backward, Sonny watched as Barba riffled through the toiletry bag and pulled out a few small items. One of which was a disposable razor.

“Uuccr-eehu,” Sonny muttered through his gag with a grumble.

“I take it you’re saying ‘no’ in the form of vulgar insults,” Barba replied. “But do keep in mind that you have very little to no control here. I am going to do exactly what I want and I am more than capable of making you comply. It’s your choice: the easy way or the hard way.”

Sonny shook his head. 

Just get on with it! Sonny raged silently. You don’t need to debase me any farther, you bastard!

“Trust me,” Barba growled, “it is easier to just get rid of the hair than let it tangle and catch once it gets matted with lube. Unless you’d rather I not use lube at all.”

Sonny knew that there was no avoiding whatever Barba had in store for him. He also knew that the anticipation of it all was beginning to edge him towards a state of panic of epic proportions. The thought of getting violated dry would not only make tearing a possibility but would guarantee it happening. With one last shake of his head and delicately cradling his arm against his chest, Sonny raised his hips and got onto his knees.

“Good boy,” Barba snarked, his patented sarcasm coloring his mocking words of praise. “Now spread your legs just a bit.”

Getting on the bed behind Sonny, Barba didn’t waste any time knocking Sonny’s shins to either side as he knelt between them.

Indignation seared through Sonny’s veins and he cocked a knee back just to thrust it back violently, kicking at Barba. This time he made contact.

“Oof,” Barba gasped as Sonny’s bare foot struck him.

And though Barba was reeling from being kicked, he wasted no time retaliating. 

Less than a second after kicking Barba, Sonny felt the pads of Barba’s fingers as they struck his testicles. 

Gasping, Sonny’s knees went out from under him and bile rose in his throat as he retched in agony. Unable to help himself, he curled up and whimpered at the pain.

“Why must you insist on making me hurt you?” Barba fumed. “I told you I would and yet you still act like you have no fear. What is wrong with you?”

There’s nothing wrong with me, Sonny silently answered. I’m just not some submissive fuck toy you can bend to your fucking will.

“This is your last warning, Carisi,” Barba continued. “Make me discipline you again and I’ll have to break out an actual gag that will keep you silent. I can make you suffer and you’ll regret being alive to experience it. Do you understand me?”

Still shaking from the pain, Sonny didn’t make a sound.

“I said do you understand me?” Barba repeated himself with a growl.

Sonny nodded his head in agreement. What other choice did he really have? He was no masochist and he was finding that pain was a strong motivator. 

“Now back up on your knees. And don’t fucking kick me.”

Grinding his teeth down against the saliva-sodden silk of his tie, Sonny complied. With his head bent low, he hid his face in shame. He wanted to cry again but his fear kept the tears at bay.

A cool wet cloth was pressed between his cheeks as Barba wiped him clean of any of the day’s sweat and grime. Next came a muffled hissing sound as a can of shaving cream’s nozzle was pressed before the damp foam was applied to the skin surrounding his puckered hole.

Humiliation wasn’t a strong enough word for what was happening to him. And yet Barba was acting as though it was the most straightforward process and not a gravely cruel form of sexual assault.

Once Barba had finished applying the shaving cream, he began to use the razor. Cautious strokes of the blade were used to get rid of any hair from the sensitive area. Seemingly, Barba was not bothered by the actions he was taking as he began to speak.

“I am going to ask you a few questions, Carisi. You need to be completely honest because I will most definitely find out if you’re lying. Just tap on the bed to answer: one tap for yes, two taps for no. Do you understand?”

Begrudgingly, Sonny tapped once.

“Earlier you said you haven’t eaten today because you were nervous about talking to Ms. Hadid. Was that a factual statement?”

The question, though straightforward, was not one Sonny had expected. Then again, it was certain that Barba was prepping to penetrate him anally. It only made sense that the former ADA wanted to ensure he knew what he was running into once he breached Sonny’s virgin hole.

Shuddering at the realization of the context and the calculated callousness, Sonny tapped once.

“Have you taken a shit today?”

This question was worse than the first and Sonny had a hard time answering it. His mind raced, trying to remember such a mundane yet incredibly explicit personal matter. To complicate things, Barba was palming Sonny’s ass like a basketball in order to spread his cheeks apart. Sonny clenched.

“Hey!” Barba scolded, “Do you want me to nick you? Because that’s how you get nicked. Now, answer the question.”

Sonny tapped once for yes.

“Was it solid?”

Again, Sonny tapped once.

“Good,” Barba said, a bit of relief in his tone. “That means you’re probably clean enough and I won’t have to douche you. I wasn’t looking forward to trying to have you squat over a bucket while still tied down to the bed.”

Sonny growled in indignation at the mere thought.

“You know,” Barba relayed, “I probably don’t need to even bother asking this but have you ever been on the receiving end of anal sex?”

Sonny couldn’t even bring himself to dignify that question with a response.

Sighing, Barba finished shaving Sonny’s ass and wiped him off. Then, getting off of the bed, he headed over to a nearby closet. It opened with a creak and though a few articles of clothing hung on the rod and a suit case rested at the bottom, there was nothing that immediately drew Sonny’s attention. What could it be that Barba needed to get?

Taking down a large black box that had been sitting on the top shelf, Barba carried it over to the bed. He placed it down by the headboard so Sonny didn’t have to crane his neck to see it.

But before opening it, Barba explained, “This: this is very special. I saw it being used once in a femdom video and it shocked even me. Luckily, the domme was kind enough to drop a link to the product she used in the comments. I had to order it from the UK. It took months to get here and I haven’t yet had the chance to use it. There was no one I considered special enough to use it with. But you, Sonny, you are very special.”

With this pronouncement, Barba opened the box.

Sonny’s eyes went wide. 

For all intents and purposes, it was a large black silicone snake. With a tapered head and thick scaly body, it was absolutely massive.

Staring at it, Sonny’s vision swam with an array of colors before blacking out completely.

Chapter 5

“Sonny?” a voice called his name. “Sonny?!”

“Barba?” he replied, his tongue feeling thick and wooly. 

“Hey,” Barba said softly, “you back with me now?”

“Yeah,” Sonny answered, disoriented and confused.

“What’s going on with you? You keep losing consciousness on me. Though this time, I think you fainted.”

I fainted? Sonny wondered. And then it all came rushing back to him: abruptly showing up at Barba’s hotel, confronting him, Barba trying to get him to leave, them fighting, the restraints, having his clothes cut off of him, getting shaved, and lastly, seeing what it was Barba had in a big black box. 

Jerking away from Barba’s deceivingly caring words and gentle touch, Sonny didn’t get far. He was still restrained. He felt an invisible pressure on his chest, it restricted his breathing and his panic rose. His breaths coming in rapid succession, Sonny thought he might pass out again.

“Sonny,” Barba gently hummed, “Easy there, Son. You’re okay. Just take a few deep breaths and try to relax.”

With his gag having already been removed while he was out, the thought of screaming flashed across his mind. But Sonny quickly opted to plead with Barba instead. It was not as though a scream wouldn’t be immediately silenced and subsequently punished. A scream would not guarantee help would come, either.  He decided that he much rather have the ability to communicate.

“I can’t relax. Barba,” he begged quietly, “please, can we stop? I’m sorry for pushing you to do this, okay? Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll stay here. I’ll be quiet. I’ll do whatever you want. You can even leave me tied up. But, Rafa, that thing is like six feet long. If you force that inside of me, I’ll die. I know I will. Please, I don’t want to die. Not like this. Please, not like this.”

Barba didn’t respond right away to Sonny’s pleas. But when tears started to fall from Sonny’s eyes as he looked up at his former mentor, Barba gently wiped them away before then placing a chaste kiss on Sonny’s brow. 

“You won’t die,” Barba stated.

“Please,” Sonny cried, feeling guilty that he was disregarding his own moral compass, “can’t you just have sex with me instead? I much rather take what’s between your legs than that, that monster!”

“Are you really asking me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” Sonny stammered.

With a heavy sigh, Barba replied, “As I said, Carisi, you are a beautiful specimen. I’ll not corrupt you by violating you in ways that should be intimate. Besides, think of the DNA I’d leave behind.”

“No one has to know. Rafa! I won’t tell a soul. You know I won’t. That’s why you picked me, right?”

“Sonny,” Barba chided. “We are way past the point for bargaining. You have nothing to offer me that will change my mind. I have you and I will take what I want. There is no stopping me.”

“You have me now,” Sonny frantically rationalized. “But what about later, Barba, do you want me later? Do you want me whenever you want? Because you can have me. I will give myself to you. Not just this time but every time.”

“It sounds like you asking me to keep you like a pet.”

“Or a boyfriend,” he stuttered.

“Boyfriend? Sonny, you’re straight.”

“So? Does it matter?”

“A relationship is more than just physical intimacy, you know.” 

Getting up from where he sat on the bed, Barba paced a bit. This was the first time since he had emerged from the locked bathroom that he was showing any sign of real emotion. 

Was it possible that Barba’s outward portrayal of decisive calmness this past hour was just him going into some sort of dissociative-like state? A state where Barba’s mind retreated to a place he could assert power and control because he felt overwhelmed and unable to cope. Which in turn resulted in his behavior resembling that of someone on a sort of dementedly sadistic autopilot.

Sonny’s heart hammered in his chest. This was possibly his only way out of this mess. He had to convince Barba that he was serious about establishing and maintaining a romantic relationship with him, even if it meant going against some of his most fundamentally held beliefs.

Stopping his pacing, Barba asked, “Do you trust me? Answer me honestly, Sonny.”

Trembling at the potential repercussions, Sonny admitted, “I used to…”

“Then wouldn’t I be a fool to trust you to keep any promising you make for the future?”

“I wouldn’t call you a fool,” Sonny bitterly conceded, “but yes, I suppose you shouldn’t trust me. But, Barba, just because you shouldn’t doesn’t mean you can’t. I swear on my mother’s life, you can trust me. I want to be your boyfriend and all that entails. I’ll take you home with me to Staten Island for Sunday family dinners and everything. Please, Barba, please. You can trust me.”

Sighing, Barba said, “As tempting as your offer might be, Sonny, I really don’t think you’d follow through.”

The finality of Barba’s statement brought Sonny to another bought of tears. He couldn’t recall a time in the past he cried this much and yet there was no stopping it. Sobs tore from his chest and he could only breathe in with shuddering gasps. As much as he wanted to reason with Barba, all Sonny could do was cry.

Leaving his side, Barba left briefly only to come back with a damp washcloth.

“Oh, Sonny,” he said gently, wiping the tears and mucus running down Sonny’s face. “I know you don’t want this, but you don’t have to make such a fuss.”

“It’s hu - humiliating and de - degrading,” Sonny hiccuped through the tears. “This shouldn’t be - be happening. I used to be a - a cop. And I - I trusted you.”

“This isn’t going to last forever,” Barba soothed. “And I promise, it won’t kill you. Besides, it’s extremely flexible and only three and a half feet long, not six.”

Shaking his head, Sonny tearfully lamented, “It’s too big, Barba. It’s too big.”

“You'll be fine. I've seen this done before.” 

“In porn!” 

Barba glared. 

“Do you need me to put your gag back on?”

“No,” Sonny said with a shake of his head. “Barba, please, no.”

Instead of replying, Barba moved from the side of the bed down to the end. 

As Sonny craned his neck to see, he noticed that the black box had been moved to the foot of the mattress.

Was this really happening?!

“It seems sort of strange,” Barba said, his tone once again falsely casual. “You keep calling me Barba as if we’re merely work colleagues. But I think we’ve moved past that, don’t you? This is a far more intimate situation, so if you must call me anything, use my given first name. And not that pet name you picked up from Liv, either.”

“Rafael.”

“Yes,” Barba stated. “Unless you’d rather use terms like ‘sir’ and ‘master’ which are more typical in these types of scenes.”

Even hearing the terminology left a lump in Sonny’s throat. Still, he shook his head.

“Okay,” Barba said, exhaling deeply. “I think we’re finally ready to get started. Now, I know it’s intimidating.”

“I’m not intimidated,” Sonny interjected, his voice raw. “Rafael, I’m scared. Don’t you get that?”

“I have a perfect understanding of the situation I’ve put you in,” Barba replied. “Inducing fear is not accidental. Fear makes you easier to control.”

Gulping, Sonny softly begged for the last time, “Please don’t do this.”

His voice laced with pity, Barba replied, “It’s too late. Now, you can keep laying down for this part but later I’m going to have you get up on your knees when I use the toy. Understood?”

“Yes, Ba — Rafael,” Sonny whispered, his whole body tensing up and preventing him from even raising the volume of his voice. 

Sonny could feel the shifting of the mattress beneath him as Barba’s weight was added to the bed. 

“So pretty,” Barba murmured softly as he pushed Sonny’s legs open.

He wasn’t looking but he could feel Barba touching him, with his strong masculine hands. They were nothing like the slender fingers of a woman, especially not as Barba tucked his hand down between Sonny’s legs and wrapped it around his testicles. Rolling the tender balls between his fingers, Barba let out a sound somewhere between a hum and a growl.

Fear and disgust writhed in Sonny’s belly. He knew that with one tight squeeze of his hand, Barba could have him gagging in agony. But besides that, Sonny couldn’t help but feel that Barba’s apparent lusts and desires were wholly unnatural. It was deplorable, the way Barba was engaging in such a depraved manner. It went against his most sincere and, and not to mention, religious beliefs: to objectify or be the object of another man’s sexual desire. 

Guilt gnawed at him.

Sonny had even offered to enter into such practices willingly had Barba agreed not to use the snake. Surely that was a sin as well. 

Mumbling some other words Sonny’s ears could not quite capture, Barba had removed his hand only to place it as well as the other hand on each of Sonny’s ass cheeks. Barba spread him open and the cool air of the room grazed against his freshly shaven skin.

Sonny felt so bare and exposed and he feared he’d die from embarrassment as Barba leaned down a drew the wet surface of his tongue across Sonny’s sensitive flesh.

“Don’t,” Sonny groaned with a hitch in his chest.

It was vile and abhorrent, what Barba was doing. 

“Never been eaten out before?” Barba questioned. “Really, Sonny? Not even by a woman?”

Through gritted teeth, Sonny confessed, “Never.”

“Then,” Barba said, “you’ve been dating the wrong sorts of women.”

Shifting uneasily, Sonny tried to stay still. Repulsed as he was, he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. His tender hole twitched and spasmed tightly with every wet caress or press of lips.

“I must say,” Barba stated, between additional strokes of his tongue, “your tight little ass is just as pretty as the rest of you. It tastes pretty too, almost earthy but with a hint of sweetness. I can tell you keep yourself clean, unlike other men. I would, though, prefer if you would unclench just a bit so I taste a bit of that inner pinkness.”

His teeth gritted together closed and Sonny couldn’t bring himself to respond. It was bad enough that he was being forced to endure such deplorable behavior. But, having that behavior described to him in vivid detail was just making a bad situation worse.

“Do you like how that feels?” Barba asked, his breath hot on Sonny’s hole.

Sonny silently answered with a meek shake of his head.

Huffing indignantly, Barba ceased his licking and pulled back.

At that moment, Sonny was relieved. Unfortunately, that relief was short-lived.

With his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched closed, Sonny could only listen as there was a pop of a capped lid and the oozing sound of viscous liquid. A second later, the cool and slimy sensation of lube smeared between his cheeks sent Sonny scrambling. With his wrists secured, he could do nothing besides try and angle his lower half away from Barba.

“Sonny,” Barba grumbled, grabbing the inside of a thigh and roughly repositioning the younger man. “Knock it off. You’ve already thoroughly exhausted all your options and continuing to resist me is pointless. Besides, don’t act as though you’re some sort of naïve virgin.”

Wanting to counter in some way, Sonny instead found himself completely frozen as a slick digit was prodding the outside of his anal opening. His whole body tensed and his fists curled in the bedclothes beneath him as Barba’s finger slowly pushed through the tight ring of muscle.

“That’s it,” Barba muttered. “It’s just a finger. You’re okay.”

“Ra-Rafael,” Sonny said through stuttering breaths.

It was distressing, though not excruciating. But the twinge of pain was enough to start inducing him into a panic.

“Shhh,” Barba hushed him. “Just relax and let your body get accustomed to it.”

But there was no getting used to such a violating intrusion, and he could feel his heart rate rising as it became harder and harder to breathe. 

This was also no doctor’s examination, despite Barba’s even and composed demeanor. In a medical setting, there might be some discomfort but assuredly the doctor would be wearing rubber gloves. Instead, Sonny found himself actively trying to ignore the sensations of warm skin-to-skin contact and the odd press of Barba’s fingertip. To make matters worse, his body was having instinctual reactions to what was happening. It was too much. All of it was just too much.

“Wait!” Sonny suddenly exclaimed, heat flaring up through his whole body and settling on his face. “Rafael, stop. You have to stop.”

“Sonny, settle down. I told you, you’re fine.”

“No,” Sonny huffed. “It’s not that. If you don’t stop, I might end up . . . shitting myself.”

“You’re feeling the sudden urge to defecate?” 

“Yes,” Sonny stuttered.

“Good,” Barba replied, nonchalantly. “Don’t fight it. Relax into it.”

Mortified by such an instruction, Sonny replied, “This is sick, Rafael. Please don’t make me do this.”

Barba sighed, “I know this is your first time but it’s not mine. And in my experience, I very much doubt there’s anything in your system that needs immediate clearing out. It’s just an urge trigged by digital penetration. It will pass. But rest assured, I am prepared to clean us both up if you do end up making that sort of mess.”

Biting his lip, Sonny barely kept himself from saying that he rather die. The humiliation was awful enough on its own, he didn’t need to complicate things by wishing for death. Instead, he remained quiet and still. And as each moment passed he felt the rigidity fall from his limbs as he became more and more pliant. 

Minutes passed and Sonny silently noted that as much as he hated being forcefully anally penetrated and violated, Barba’s actions so far were actually becoming bearable. Instead of sawing in and out of him, the tip of Barba’s finger was applying subtle pressure as it stroked a spot inside of him.

Sonny muffled a moan.

Whatever Barba was stroking, it felt . . . different, electric, even. But not electric like a sharp shock but more of a warm buzz that was spreading through his whole body.

“That’s it, Sonny,” Barba hummed. “Just relax.”

When he felt Barba’s finger ease out of him, Sonny glanced over his shoulder to see what was happening. Still terrified of the silicone snake, he was relieved to recognize a slim container of lubrication in Barba’s hand.

“Don’t worry,” Barba said as he smeared more lube on his fingers. “I’m still working on prepping you. The toy is too flexible to push past much resistance. And you’re still far too tight for me to get it in.”

Sonny whined in frustration and discomfort as he returned his head to the comforts of the pillow beneath it. He didn’t want to be prepped open to be violated. But saying that aloud wouldn’t change the fact that he had no choice in the matter. 

He felt Barba’s finger once again prodding at his backdoor. And though he clenched against the intrusion, there was less resistance as Barba pressed inside of him. A few soft strokes later and the first finger was joined by a second. 

“Rafael,” he bemoaned at the stretch. “Too much.”

“It’s not too much,” Barba chided. “You just need to loosen up Sonny.”

“Can’t,” Sonny replied with a shake of his head. 

“Hmm? You mean you can’t take something like this?” Barba questioned as he V-ed his fingers open.

Gasping at the sensation of the expanding digits inside him, Sonny lowered his head and bit down on the pillowcase.

Waiting for a beat, Barba said, “Looks like you took it just fine to me. Let’s keep trying that, shall we?”

His voice muffled by the pillow, Sonny screamed in indignation. He wanted to kick out at the man violating him but anticipation of painful repercussions, along with a healthy dose of fear, kept his temper in check. 

As Barba continued to V his fingers open and close, one of the fingers was brushing against that very particular spot again and the strange sensations it elicited. His eyes falling shut, Sonny let his mind focus on that electric feeling rather than the mechanics of what was happening to him. Like white noise clouding his brain, he let it wash over him.

Once again, the minutes ticked by, and with them, they pulled the tension from Sonny’s muscles and bones.

“Good boy,” Barba praised him softly. 

He could feel the heat of Barba’s breath against his skin just a second before the other man pressed a kiss on Sonny’s lower back, right above his left ass cheek.

Sonny would’ve grumbled at this but there was an odd sort of pressure beginning to mount. It was like nothing he had experienced before. It was as though Barba was pulling at invisible strings within him, weaving them into some intricate pattern with only the motions of his fingers.

Barba’s smooth movements were that of someone well-practiced. As he alternated between the come-hither motions and the occasional V-ing of his fingers, the slickness of the lube ensured that his digits glided along with relative ease. Repetitive and rhythmic, the actions were almost mesmerizing. 

As his whole body was beginning to tense, Sonny found himself beginning to pull his knees up under him.

“Rafael,” he gasped, his breaths becoming shorter.

“Ride it out,” Barba instructed, his fingers still resolute in their motions. “Even if you feel like you’re losing complete control of your body, don’t try to stop it.”

Even with his eyes squeezed shut, Sonny was seeing stars. And then, simultaneous with a sharp intake of breath, he reached some sort of peak. Waves of pressure seemed to be released and his whole body trembled. It was as though he’d been disconnected from the world and totally immersed in a cloud made of soft yet intense sensation. By the time the waves settled down to mere ripples, he was completely exhausted.

“Fuck,” Sonny muttered in a husky whisper.

He knew he had had some physiological response but still, it wasn’t like anything he had ever experienced or knew he could experience.

Behind him, Barba removed his fingers briefly before adding in a third. There was no burning at the stretch this time, even with the slight push and pull motion Barba was using.

“What…?” Sonny questioned.

Answering him, Barba explained, “I find orgasms from internal simulation of the prostate are much more powerful than external ones. Additionally, there’s little to no refractory period. And with all those endorphins flooding your system, it really helps to loosen you up.”

“I … I came?” Sonny uncertainly wondered aloud. “I’m not … I’m not even hard.”

“Time to get on your knees, Sonny,” Barba instructed.

Barely registering what was being said to him, Sonny let Barba move him into position. He felt groggy, almost drunk. Looking down, he stared at his limp cock hanging between his thighs. It was dripping, and not with lube either. Drops of clear fluid were freely leaking out of his cock and falling to the bedspread below. 

Sonny felt the blush of shame heating his cheeks. 

What was happening to him? This was all very wrong. His former mentor was basically raping him; and using his fingers alone, Barba had managed to make him orgasm like some sort of cheap and easy broad.

“Rafael?” he whispered just loud enough over the sloshing noises being made by the fingers and lube in his ass. “Can we stop? Please. I don’t know if I can handle any more, at least not mentally.”

“By the time you’re incapable of speech,” Barba countered, “then I will know you aren’t capable of handling anything more.”

“Do you plan on stopping then?”

“I might. We’ll see.”

Chapter 6

Sonny knew there was a term for what he was trying to do. It was called dissociation. There was little wonder why he was doing it. It was easier to no longer associate himself with what was happening to him physically than continue to face the fact that he was being raped.

Actually, a voice in his mind chided, the penal code stipulates that for the charge of rape to be applied, the perpetrator must engage in sexual intercourse with the victim. Since Barba has only used his fingers, the charge would be aggravated sexual abuse in the second degree. But once he uses that freakishly long dildo, you can tack on sexual abuse in the first degree.

However, as the victim, he would not be assuming his role as ADA. He wouldn’t be upping the charges against Barba at all. 

It would be satisfying though: personally bringing charges against the former ADA assigned to SVU.

Closing his eyes, Sonny envisioned the scene. He’d be standing in the courtroom, expensively dressed in a sharp suit and a pair of shined-up Oxfords, presenting the evidence like it had happened to someone else and not to him. His face would be contorted in righteous rage as he detailed for the jury all the corrupt and heinous acts that Rafael Barba had committed. And Barba, he would …

He would wipe the floor with you, Sonny’s internal dialogue supplied. Barba went to Harvard. You went to Fordham Law. It’s not an even matchup and you know it. 

He wouldn’t represent himself either. A lawyer who represents themselves has a fool for a client. And you know that Barba doesn’t abide fools.

What then? Sonny thought. I couldn’t prosecute him and he wouldn’t represent himself either. 

He knew what would happen. He’d be sitting behind the state-assigned prosecutor with his friends and family. They’d surround him in a cocoon of protection. But he would still be unable to keep his eyes off the back of his former mentor’s head. Barba, of course, would be sitting with his defense attorney, his eyes straight forward. Steadfast and determined, he’d never even glance back over his shoulder at him. 

Would Barba do that because he was afraid he might burn beneath the heated glares of hatred? Or rather, would he do it as an exhibition of complete control as he feigned innocence? Crimes involving sex were, after all, not the easiest things to prove. Especially if Barba kept his word and didn’t — Carisi shuddered — use his penis to fuck him. Would Barba claim it had been consensual or pretend like it never happened at all?

But this was all predicated on Sonny bringing charges. 

Barba was right. 

It was doubtful Sonny would do that. Even now, as he knelt naked, his ass exposed as Barba sexually abused him with multiple fingers, he knew that the title of ‘victim’ was one he did not want to claim. The shame of it was just too much to bear. So he here was, dissociating and  getting lost in thoughts of being in court instead of being present in this awful reality. 

And just as Sonny knew he would not disclose what happened this evening to anyone. He also knew that dissociation during traumatic events often was a precursor to developing PTSD.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder: it was a nasty fate.

A bout of anger surged through Sonny’s veins. The intensity of his hatred towards Barba, had it been made of something other than emotion, could’ve burned through him. It was as if his rage was molten metal, pouring through him and casting off bits of hot slag in sparks of hostility. 

Fight back!!! Sonny’s mind screamed at him. Get out of this and kill the mother fucker!

But the ache in the crux of his arm, where he had pulled or maybe even torn a ligament from yanking at the restraints, throbbed numbly. It was a constant reminder: he wasn’t physically capable of getting out of this, no matter how hard he tried.

Despair wasn’t enough to temper his anger. However, it pulled him back into the sharpness of his reality. Overcome by emotion, Sonny let out a gasping sob.

Behind him, the even tone of Barba’s voice resonated with calculated composure.

“More tears, Sonny? I thought we were past the crying phase.”

Though his face was damp with a mixture of the tears and the mucus dripping from his nose, Sonny still snapped back in anger.

“Fuck you, Rafael. You know exactly what you are doing. You know I will never, ever get passed what you are doing to me. I wish — I wish you would just kill me.”

“Kill you?” Barba replied, the shock in his voice palpable. “Sonny, you can’t be serious.”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life as a victim,” Sonny countered, though jagged breaths. “Not a cop or a lawyer, not a son or a brother, but as a victim. I’ll never be anything else. I’ll never be a husband or a father, Rafael. You have stolen my life from me, so you might as well kill me.”

Barba heaved a heavy sigh.

“That’s a worst-case scenario. Besides, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet. Who knows, you may even like it.”

“No!”

“Watch your volume,” Barba hissed. “You know what I’ll do if you don’t.”

With a shake of his head, Sonny lowered it to the pillows below and let the tears silently fall.

Then came the now-familiar snapping sound of the lid on the tube of lube. He felt it dribbling down the crease between his ass cheeks as it met Barba’s still-inserted fingers at the point where they were still fucking him at a slow and lazy pace.

The addition of more lubrication could only mean one thing: Barba was nearing the end of his preparations. Soon, Sonny was going to find himself impaled on more than just a few fingers. Sloppy noises issued from where Barba had forced his body open wide for insertion. Sonny could even feel the slight brush of fabric on his cheeks where the cuffs of Barba’s dress shirt were whispering along his skin.

For a second, Sonny felt a pang of dismay at the thought of getting such fine clothes soiled by the excessive amount of lube that was being used. Then, chagrined that the thought had even crossed his mind, he did and said nothing as Barba continued. The ever-fluctuating emotions crisscrossing his mind kept him unbalanced, pliable, and, most of all, subdued.

Had Barba known this whole time that this is how it would go? That the fear, anger, despair, shame, humiliation, and outrage would undermine his ability to maintain any sort of composure. That all of it would effectively hobble him like some sort of tamed creature, rendering him defenseless and vulnerable. Had Barba known?

Fuck.

There was no answering his question. Instead, Barba began once again to command Sonny’s attention.

“Sonny, you’re going to have to listen to me now and respond when I speak to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Rafael,” came Sonny’s meek reply. 

“And no more talk of how you would rather be dead. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Rafael,” Sonny muttered through gritted teeth. 

If Barba didn’t want him speaking those words, then fine. He wouldn’t say them aloud. But he would continue to think it: that he wanted to be dead. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted Barba dead as well. He wanted his former mentor gasping for breath as he wrapped his hands around Barba’s neck and squeezed until the man was deceased. And though shame blossomed at the thought of committing such a mortal sin, Sonny rolled around in the idea like a pig in the muck.

“I am not sure how good of a look you got at my special toy snake, Sonny,” Barba continued, seemingly obvious to the turmoil his actions were invoking. “But it is a thing of beauty, it really is. There is a flared base at the end, so it doesn’t taper off like a real snake’s tail. But that’s a safety feature, it ensures that it doesn’t get pushed completely inside. If that sort of thing happens, it’s a one-way ticket to the ER.”

Sonny nearly snorted in disbelief. That thing was so long, he knew that no way could that possibly happen. At least, he hoped not.

“It’s crafted out of smooth silicone,” Barba continued. “It’s easy to clean. Though, I admit, I haven’t used it before now. But besides that, it has these detailed scales and ridges on it to mark how deep it’s gone. And the head of the snake, it’s really shaped like one. There’s a blunt nose that tapers into a bit of a bulbous head, but that’s the widest part. The rest of the body isn’t that wide. Really, it’s not. I would say the circumference is just smaller than that of a silver dollar.”

Not knowing how to respond, Sonny said nothing at first. Instead, he felt his belly churn at Barba’s practically loving description of the sex toy. 

It’s just a toy, he told himself. It’s just a toy that is being used as intended. If Barba uses it properly, it won’t hurt. It’s supposed to be pleasurable.

Sonny had no intention of deriving any pleasure from the object but he knew that he wasn’t going to avoid it being used on him. Besides, he had exhausted all his options. He had fought, bargained, and pleaded. Better for him to come to grips with his reality now instead of tensing up and prolonging the process. 

“Just do it,” Sonny finally said, his voice muffled as he buried it in the pillows. “Rafael, please. Get it over with.”

When Barba replied, Sonny could tell there was a wide grin on the other man’s face, even if he couldn’t see it.

“And I thought you’d never ask.”

Sonny could feel Barba’s fingers flex inside of him as they were slowly drawn out. But before the full length of the digits had left his desecrated hole, Sonny realized that Barba had the nose of the snake already butting up against his puckered entrance. Instinctively, he tightened and wished he could prevent the inevitable.

“Sonny,” Barba chided, “relax.”

“I can’t,” Sonny gasped his earlier expressed desire to ‘get it over with’ quickly forgotten. “Please, no. No, no, no…”

Like a broken record, he pleaded for Barba to stop as his former mentor used the tips of his fingers to spread Sonny’s ass wide and eased in the head of the snake.

Blunt nose first, the toy penetrated him and Sonny could only inhale sharply as efforts to keep the intrusion at bay failed. As he released the air in his lungs, he could feel the widening bulbous head push into him as the rim of his asshole flared out around the widest portion of the snake’s silicone skull.

“Oh fuck!” Sonny exclaimed as finally the head popped inside his rectum. 

The ring of muscle along the rim of his ass burned at the exertion of having to spread so wide.

“Head’s in,” Barba noted gleefully. “You should see yourself, Sonny. It looks like it’s a part of you. It’s almost as if you’ve grown another appendage.”

Shifting uneasily, Sonny said nothing. And though silent tears streamed down his face, he knew better than to give his disgust and revulsion voice. Besides, he had to admit it, the stretch of the snake’s head was no worse than the stretch he had felt around Barba’s fingers. The toy was pressing against that very particular spot that had given Sonny those electric feelings earlier. And the weight of it tugged teasingly at the inner rim of his ass. Couple those two sensations together and Sonny wasn’t as horrified as he initially thought he would be.

Barba’s fingers briefly grazed along the plump swell of Sonny’s ass cheeks as the former ADA gripped the toy just below the base of the head. With persistent yet cautious effort, Barba pushed it further inside Sonny’s rectal cavity.

His jaw fell open and Sonny repeatedly gulped in one lungful of air after another. Words were failing him as he tried to comprehend the sensations he was perceiving. He felt full; too full. And it was all so wrong. It was the reverse of all the experiences he had ever had in his lifetime. Where he was well acquainted with the sensation of defecation, this was the reverse of that. It was unnatural.

“Rafael,” Sonny gasped, unable to escape the feeling of total defilement, “take it out. Please, take it out.”

However, despite Sonny’s pleas, Barba kept slowly easing in more and more of the snake’s length.

The experience of being penetrated completely and Barba’s lack of communication left Sonny feeling utterly helpless. It was as if his consciousness or his soul could have been removed from his body and been left on the outside: a passive observer. Because, as of this moment, he had no tangible will of his own and was totally incapable of interceding and preventing the events that were occurring.

He knew he couldn’t with any accuracy estimate the amount of length that had been pushed past the rim and into his rectum but Sonny was sure that it was far too much. That was until pain shot through him like he had been pierced or stabbed with something far more sharp and solid than the blunt rubber nose of a sex toy.

Sonny couldn’t help it; he screamed. Still, knowing Barba would gag him again, he tried to swallow down the volume of his cry and was left gasping out a sob.

“Shh,” Barba hushed Sonny, calmly explaining. “We’ve just reached the S-curve that connects your anal passage to the rest of your intestinal tract.”

His fingers clenched the bedspread beneath him, the fabric bunching and folding in his grip. Sonny's knuckles turned white as he gasped, his breath ragged and shallow, each inhale a struggle against the waves of discomfort crashing through him.

“You,” he wondered aloud, though his voice kept hitching because of the pain, “you really get - get off on this … sort of thing?”

Behind him, Barba shifted his weight, bringing himself up onto his knees and pressing himself up against the back of one of Sonny’s thighs. Through the fabric of the other man’s pants, he could feel the firm bulge of an erection.

“Does that answer your question?”

Numbly, Sonny nodded.

He wanted to tell Barba that he was a ‘sick fuck,’ but he was wise enough not to voice this aloud. 

Still in pain, Sonny was relieved when Barba drew back and with him, he pulled part of the snake back as well. 

“With a little trial and error,” his former mentor explained, his tone a blend of reassurance and determination, “I’ll find the right angle and be able to push past the curve.”

“Too big,” Sonny muttered, knowing his complaints would fall on deaf ears. “It’s too big, Rafael.”

Once again, Barba began pushing more of the snake inside Sonny’s rectum. This time, when it hit the curve, Sonny was able to prevent himself from screaming though the pain was worse. What was sharp before had now escalated into searing agony that seemed to radiate from the depths of his core throughout his entire being.

Gasping, Sonny involuntarily wailed. 

“Ma!”

Like a scared child, he had cried out for his mother.

With a tut of his tongue, Barba adjusted the angle of the snake.

“There’s no need for hysterics, Dominick. Call for your mother again and my response will be to make you start calling me ‘daddy.’ It would be a first for me: taking on that familial title. But I’m sure you wouldn’t like calling me that now, would you?”

“No, Rafael,” Sonny said, as every fiber of his being screamed in protest.

Utterly defeated, he felt the humiliation twist at his insides.

Though, after this brief exchange, there were no more words between them. Instead, the only sounds Sonny could hear were the occasional snap of a lid as Barba applied more lube and the shuddering breaths escaping his own lips. 

Over and over again, the snake was pushed into him until it met the curved bend of his colon. And time and time again, there was no headway made. With each failed attempt, Barba would become frustrated. Growling softly, he'd apply more lube and try another angle. 

This continued for at least an hour, Sonny was sure. He could, after all, keep his eyes trained on the brightly lit red numbers of the clock resting on the nightstand next to him. And it was nearly 2:00 am when the last of the strength Sonny had began to ebb. He had been instructed to remain on his knees but his legs were losing their rigidity. 

The snake’s head continued to butt against the bruised and battered curve. Then, one of Sonny’s legs slipped. And as the angle of his body changed, so did the angle of the bend within him. 

Gasping, Sonny felt the toy push past the curve and further into him than it had ever gone before.

“That’s it,” Barba exclaimed, clearly excited. “Good boy. Take it in.”

It was as though the snake had taken on a life of its own, winding and curling like a serpent as it navigated the hidden depths of his body. 

His breath hitching, Sonny began to hyperventilate. But trying to regulate his breathing and move away from what was happening to him was pointless. With every slight movement, the snake within him wound its way further inside his body.

“Stop moving,” Barba ordered.

Instantly, Sonny froze.

“It’s only about halfway in. I’m going to pull it out a bit and see if I can’t get more in.”

More? Oh, fuck. I can’t handle more!

Sonny nearly voiced his thoughts aloud on the subject when the snake began to slowly ease out of him. His eyes rolling back and his lids fluttering, Sonny moaned at the new sensation. After hours of torturous pain, the relief he felt as the snake slithered out of him was practically glorious. 

Behind him, Barba chuckled.

“Like that, do you?”

Realizing he had inadvertently conveyed that he was slightly experiencing what could be construed as pleasure, Sonny vehemently shook his head ‘no.’

“Sonny,” Barba growled, “I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me you like it.”

Scared, Sonny hesitated. And even when he spoke, he could only muster a whisper.

“No.”

“No? You sure?” Barba’s voice held a thin veiled threatening tone.

Shaking his head, Sonny shivered. The snake was mostly out of him now, though the head still rested within him, just past the curve. 

“Sonny,” Barba prodded, “are you sure you don’t like it?”

“No,” Sonny said, his voice trembling.

“No, what?”

“No, I — I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything,” Sonny admitted. 

Hearing this remark, Barba once again began to push the freakishly long toy back inside the younger man. And beneath his touch, Sonny whimpered.

It was true, he didn’t feel sure of how to feel about his body being violated and manipulated in such a despicable fashion. But one thing Sonny knew for sure, Barba had officially lost all sense of what was right and what was wrong.

Though the thought didn’t remain with Sonny long as the snake slithered within his guts. He knew it wasn’t real but it felt as though it was writhing. Internally, he could feel his belly cramping at the intrusion. But instead of rejecting the foreign object, this reaction only seemed to be drawing it further in.

“Ho,” Barba crowed, “nearly two-thirds this time.”

He won’t be satisfied until it’s fully inserted! Sonny realized. Shit. Even if there are people out there who enjoy this sort of thing, I’ve never done anything like this. I’ve been in no way acclimated to such an extreme practice. This thing is going to cause a tear in my intestine. Barba might actually end up killing me.

With his own mortality looming before him, Sonny’s mental fortitude fractured and then crumbled. Even as the Barba withdrew the snake once more, his mind remained adrift. Relief mixed with suffering as they came in tandem waves, lapping at what remained of his senses. 

The abstract concept that was time eluded him. It no longer held any meaning. Each push and pull of the long silicone toy, the weight of it heavy in his gut, further splintered the pieces of his consciousness. Though his body was tethered to the bed, his perception blurred everything around him and everything that was happening to him. 

He could’ve been there for hours longer or mere minutes, Sonny had no idea. However, he did know that, after multiple attempts, the silicone creature had been fully seated deep within him. Along with the ache and sharp twinges of pain, he felt the round base of the toy flush against the rim of his ass.

Barba was silent as he removed it for the final time.

Shivering and exhausted from remaining on his knees for so long, Sonny collapsed. A sheen of sweat covered his body and dripped from his brow though he barely registered anything besides his throbbing limbs, ass, and belly. Concrete thoughts still eluded him. Only sensations remained such as the slick feel of excess lube dripping from his ass, sliding thickly down his taint, and glazing his testicles. 

These sensations were the only way he knew he was still alive. Though, even then, he wasn’t too sure. He couldn’t move. He could barely breathe.

“Sonny?” 

He heard his former mentor’s voice question him. And though Barba’s tone was soft and gentle, Sonny squeezed his eye’s tightly shut against the sound, as if by doing so he could block it out. And while he was incapable of much at the moment, he knew that he wouldn’t — no, he couldn’t — give Barba the satisfaction of a response.

Barba’s fingers trailed gently down Sonny’s lower back, stopping to cup his ass. 

“You were so good for me,” Barba said, his voice the barest of whispers. “Thank you.”

His eyes, already raw and sore from crying, eked out the last tears he would shed into the damp pillowcase. They were finally done and what relief Sonny felt was overshadowed by the fear that still kept him compliant.

Compliant.

Yes, that was all he could be in that moment as he numbly realized that Barba was undoing the restraints and releasing Sonny’s wrists from the tightly woven nylon straps. It was only once they were off did he realize that though he hadn’t lost his life, he had certainly lost a part of himself. As that black silicone snake had thoroughly penetrated him, all the fight had been slowly pushed out and extracted from his soul. 

An odd sense of hollowness washed over Sonny as he lay there motionless. 

“Sonny?” Barba’s voice came again. “You can leave now.”

With his eyes still closed, Sonny couldn’t bring himself to do anything. His only compulsion was to fall into the void the rifts in his soul had created as Barba had so easily cracked him open.

The flat of Barba’s warm hand came to rest on Sonny’s shoulder.

“Sonny?” Barba said, his tone a touch more stern. 

When there was no response to his words, he became more stringent in his actions. The flat of his hand now gripped Sonny as Barba gave him a slight shake.

“Carisi, look at me.”

Unable to resist any order given to him by the former ADA, Sonny’s eyes flashed open and he met Barba’s stare with a dull and unblinking deadman’s gaze.

“Oh Sonny,” Barba voiced, “have I broken you?”

Sonny didn’t bother responding as the answer was apparent to them both.

Strong hands maneuvered him closer, rolling him onto his side. A gentle push and Sonny found himself staring up at the ceiling. Seamless crows-feet patterned ridges of mudded spackle splayed across the flat white surface. Dull light cast long shadows along the deep corners of the room as Sonny lay there numb and despondent. 

It wasn’t long, though, until his view of the ceiling was obscured by the face of his former mentor. Barba had moved from his position off to the side until he was crouched over Sonny on all fours. And while he couldn’t bring himself to meet Barba’s line of sight, he could see the hunger that remained within those green iris hues.

The same fear from earlier reared up and tightened its grip around Sonny’s heart, though it threatened to pound out his chest. He could barely breathe as he surely couldn’t move as Barba lowered his face to meet Sonny’s.

Soft lips brushed against his own. And while Sonny remained unresponsive, the press of Barba’s kiss became more urgent as his tongue dipped into Sonny’s slack mouth. 

“Sonny,” Barba muttered, pulling away ever so slightly, peppering his face with more kisses. “Sonny, oh, Sonny.”

His name was like some sort of mantra, repeated over and over as Barba smothered him with one kiss after another kiss, nuzzling into his neck, and sucking a single hickey along the skin at the edge of a smooth collarbone.

“You’re so pretty,” Barba said, lifting a hand and gently caressing the edges of Sonny’s hairline. “I can’t resist you. You know that?”

Still staring blankly at the ceiling, Sonny gulped. This time, he was one-hundred percent certain that Barba was going to have sex with him. 

Barba was going to rape him.

A spare pillow was yanked from where it had fallen, off to the side of the bed, and pushed under Sonny’s hips. Maneuvering the former detective’s legs apart, Barba kneel between them as he unbuckled his belt and unfastened the buttons and fly of his trousers. Then, pushing down the hem of his underpants, Barba released his erect penis from its constraints. 

Barba hoisted Sonny’s legs up, briefly hooking them over his arms, and positioned himself as he aligned his cock with Sonny’s loose, sloppy hole. Leaning forward, Barba slipped inside of the younger man. It had been an easy task as there had not been a bit of resistance of any sort. 

Face to face with the man that had been his colleague, his friend, his mentor, and now rapist, Sonny found that not even this new form of violation could rouse him from his state of profound apathetic paralysis. 

His head bobbed limply as Barba pumped into him like some kind of loose-limbed fuck doll.

Loose. Sloppy. Easy.

Those were the words echoing his mind as he was raped. 

Even so, those were not the words Barba utilized as he used his cock to repeatedly violate Sonny.

“Such a lovely boy,” Barba murmured, pressing a wet kiss at the edge of Sonny’s mouth. “So good for me. You’re so good for me.”

The weight and pressure of Barba’s body on his was uncomfortable and Sonny huffed softly with every thrust of Barba’s hips. His own soft member was caught between them, unpleasantly rubbing against the twisted fabric of the other man's clothing. And still so sore from the stretch of having the snake up his ass, Sonny barely registered the sensation of the cock rhythmically thudding into him other than he knew that it hurt.

Hunched over Sonny, Barba continued to murmur sweet sentiments of endearment. And even with his mind in ragged pieces, Sonny knew that in some way his former mentor had broken too. Earlier, Barba had promised he wasn’t going to be ‘intimate’ with him in this way. Clearly, that had gone out the window along with Barba’s ability to control himself. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised, the other man had, after all, spent hours on the edge of arousal all evening. But what surprised Sonny was how he was being brutalized. Using long languid strokes, Barba’s actions were a far cry from the dominant and rough jackhammering described by the various rape victims Sonny had interviewed while he had been a detective. If anything, Barba’s current actions were more akin to the actions of someone making love.

“Sonny,” Barba gasped. “Oh, fuck, Sonny! Oh!”

His hips suddenly juttered, his cock pulsated, and Barba climaxed. 

Heaving a dramatic moan, Barba sunk down onto his elbows and rested his torso against Sonny’s. 

Even through the fabric of the older man’s shirt, Sonny could feel the racing beat of Barba’s heart as the pair of them lay there, unmoving. Eventually, though, Barba’s deflating cock slipped from Sonny’s hole, and a small sluice of jizz dribbled out along with it.

With the presence of fluids, Sonny thought, the DNA evidence will corroborate the charge of rape in the first degree. 

Rolling off of Sonny, Barba lay there nestled up against him for a while as if they were lovers and not perpetrator and victim.  

“Sonny,” he eventually said, sitting up and tucking himself back into his soiled clothing, “are you going to move or I am going to have to drag you into the bathroom?”

Having not spoken for the duration of the rape, Sonny didn’t see any reason why he ought to utter a single word now that it was over. Instead, he closed his eyes and, summoning up a bit of strength from the tattered remains of his soul, rolled over on his side and away from Barba.  With his knees pressed together, he covered his genitals with one hand while he tried to pull up the soiled bedding behind him with the other.

Surprisingly, the syllables that next fell from Barba’s mouth were tinged with pity.

“I have to get you cleaned up,” Barba explained as if he were some kind, benevolent individual looking after a friend who had made a poor decision, “before I get you home.”

Home? Sonny wondered. Why bother? Does he want to rape me in my own bed?

Standing up from the bed, Barba stood over and surveyed the scene.

“Fuck,” he muttered before turning and heading towards the bathroom.

A few moments later, Sonny could hear the twist of a knob and the spray of a shower starting. Glancing over at the clock, he realized that it was practically morning. Whatever Barba was planning on doing with him, they were running out of time.

Footfalls alerted him to Barba’s emergence from the hotel room bathroom. Consequently, Sonny stifled a fearful sob and haphazardly dragged what he could of the bedcovers over his head.

The footsteps kept coming though until they came around to the side of the bed he was facing before they stopped.

“Come,” Barba said, his voice permeating the fabric barrier, “let’s get you clean.”

Weakly, Sonny murmured inarticulate sentiments of dissent as he was pulled from the covers. Still, he offered no resistance as Barba hauled him to his feet and half-dragged/half-carried Sonny into the bathroom. He didn’t really walk, his bare feet grazing the carpet fibers only enough to support some of his weight. Still, every step sent shooting pain skyrocketing through his ass. Once in the small room, Sonny allowed himself to be lowered carefully onto the tiled floor of the shower. Steam had already filled the room by the time the warm spray was striking his skin. 

What followed next could’ve been described as an act of compassion, had Barba not spent the night sexually torturing him. Taking a small plastic bottle of pills off the bathroom counter, Barba turned the label towards Sonny so he could read it: Tylenol. His former mentor opened the bottle and shook a few white capsules into the palm of his hand before lowering them down so Sonny could reach them. Sonny didn’t even move, he just open his mouth and let Barba drop the pills on his tongue. Keeping his mouth open for a few seconds, Sonny then swallowed the pain relievers down with a mouthful of warm shower water.

He imagined his eyes might’ve looked glassy and glazed over as he watch Barba shed his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. And as Barba knelt on the floor, next to the shower, Sonny was stunned as the former ADA began to gently cleanse every inch of Sonny’s skin with the soft and soapy washcloth. Barba was getting soaked in the process, but he didn’t seem to mind.

With soothing strokes and touches, Barba removed the evidence of the night’s events. Gone was the slick and sticky film of excess lube. Gone was the sweat from strained muscles. And gone were the many tears that had fallen over the past hours. Barba even washed Sonny’s hair, massaging shampoo through Sonny’s prematurely graying dark-blonde locks. Lastly, Barba cleansed Sonny’s genitals and ass, delicately washing and rinsing away evidence of his crime.

Sonny looked to see if there would be bright red smears of blood on the washcloth as Barba pulled it away. He was unexpectedly dismayed to see none. Being raped had been painful and he was sure he’d have torn at some point. 

Maybe it was an indication of Barba’s skill that he hadn’t.

Wrapped in a fluffy white hotel towel, Sonny found himself sitting on the curved seat of the toilet. Unlike the shower floor, the hollow of the seat allowed him to sit with far less pain. And for that he was grateful. 

Tangled in a web of what he could only describe as a numb stupor, Sonny remained still and silent as he let Barba dry him off and even comb his hair. He still couldn’t bring himself to move, though he did avert his eyes, as the other man removed his clothes and stepped into the shower to rinse off. When Barba was clean he left the bathroom to change into a fresh set of clothes.

Alone in the bathroom, Sonny allowed himself to relax, but only briefly. Seeing as he was already on the toilet, he emptied his bladder. He knew that if he tried to stand on his own, he’d lose his balance and he didn’t relish the thought of pissing on himself while falling down to the bathroom floor. Besides, the sound of the stream of urine hitting the water below was preferable to the occasional drip of Barba’s cum leaking out of his fluttering hole. 

When Barba re-entered the small bathroom, draped over his arms was what remained of Sonny’s clothes. Setting them on the counter, Barba leaned over to flush the toilet.

Sonny flinched.

“Hey,” Barba said kindly, “you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to get you dressed. Okay?”

You’ve already hurt me, Sonny thought but couldn’t bring himself to say it. 

Pulling a folded white shirt from the top of the pile of clothes, Barba said, “This is mine so I hope it fits. It might be a little short but you don’t have to wear it for long and no one should notice the length if you wear your suit jacket over it.”

Eying the white short-sleeve undershirt, Sonny let Barba thread his hands and arms through the sleeves. When Barba brought the shirt up and over his head, Sonny shrugged it on as the towel that had been around his shoulders puddled around his waist. It was demeaning, being dressed like a toddler. But Sonny had been through so much already, that it barely even registered. 

Next, Barba slid on Sonny’s socks, careful to align the seams along the toes so they didn’t bunch up uncomfortably. And, handing Sonny a bunch of squares of toilet paper, Barba said, “Wipe yourself as best you can as I get your underwear and pants back on. Okay?”

Numbly, Sonny nodded as he took the folded tissue and did as he was told.

Only when his pants and underwear were slipped up around his ankles and out from underneath his feet did Barba have him stand up.

“Hold onto me if you need to steady yourself,” Barba directed as he hitched up the garments around Sonny’s hips. 

As Barba buttoned Sonny’s pants and looped his belt through the buckle, Sonny turned and glanced over his shoulder. For some odd reason he couldn’t fathom, he was concerned that the towel had fallen into the bowl.

“Don’t worry about that,” Barba said, turning him back around. “I’ll take care of it later. I left your jacket and shoes in the other room. We need to get those back on you and then it’s time to go.”

“Go?” Sonny muttered the first fully formed word he had managed to utter in many hours.

“Yes, Sonny,” he replied, patting his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and keys. “We’re going downstairs to the lobby where I’m going to call a cab to take you back to your apartment.”

Reaching out to grip Barba’s arm, a pang in the crux of Sonny’s elbow reminded him that it wasn’t only his ass that had been damaged that night. 

Apparently seeing the look of pain on the other man’s face, Barba steadied Sonny by holding onto his non-injured arm. 

“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” he asked tentatively, though his eyes were scanning Sonny’s features wildly. “You might need to have that arm checked out.”

Sonny shook his head.

No. The medical staff will see the striations and bruising on my wrists from the restraints. I can't let anyone know I've been hurt or who I've let hurt me.

“I’m fine, Rafael,” he finally said. “Take me home.”

A/N: The epilogue for this story (Chapter 7) wouldn't fit in this post. Since I'm not sure anyone is going to read this whole thing on Tumblr, I won't post it unless requested to do so.

#svu #fanfic #rafael barba #barisi #sonny carisi #law and order svu #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #18+ content

[sasudou]

i love dazais character design so much because he’s just… some guy, and i feel like that’s the whole point. apart from the bandages, he looks like someone you would see in your day to day life. he’s just some random, attractive guy.

he doesn’t have bright hair, an abnormal eye color, and he doesn’t dress in an outlandish manner. he fits into the crowd, but is attractive, which plays in his favor. his "bland" look helps him blend into a crowd, and, when needed, he can use his attractiveness to flirt his way in or out of a situation. all in all, he is the last person you would suspect to be dangerous.

the only thing that sets him apart are the bandages, which—i think—is a reflection of his mental state. we don’t know much of his past, but, considering his current and past mental state, it’s safe to assume that it was relatively dark, as it seems to have a continued affect on him. his suicide attempts, while often played off as a joke, is a clear indication of how poor his psychological condition is. he’s committed many times and continues to do so. he’s in pain. to me, the bandages represent both past and present pain: “i was hurt, and i continue to hurt.”

if we were to go off of irl dazai osamus book “No Longer Human,” we can assume that dazai is also trying to fit in. to everyone else, he might seem like a normal person, but he feels anything but. oba yozo, the protagonist of “No Longer Human,” fabricated an entire personality in order to blend in with the humans he claimed to dread, referred to as his “clowning” because of its boundless jokes, surface level smile, and endless list of lies. in order to conceal himself, he used the mask of a joker, something our resident anime boy dazai osamu does as well. by making people laugh or (in kunikidas case) lash out, he can create an artificial connection, keeping his real self a safe distance away.

so, yes, dazais character design may seem “bland,” but that’s the whole point. it’s an advantage that can be used in dangerous situations or to conceal his previous status in the mafia, yes, but it’s also something dazai uses to cover up his lack of humanity.

#i love him #i love him so much your honor #sorry i went on a rant 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ #idk if any of this makes sense #but if it doesn’t #just close your eyes #pretend it does #dazai osamu #bsd

[lilygotabunchofflowers]

As madhav was sitting in the bike as usual while waiting for his friends to go to college together, he saw the person he missed the most in the last week walk past him (but he wouldn't accept that, he hate her mind you 😤)

"Oh, here comes the loser who doesn't have the power to back herself up now, where did you disappear after my words last week Madame ?" madhav asked sarcastically.

"You were actually true all along, I am a loser after all It just took my stupid brain long time before I realised it" Lily said in a low voice as she walked past him leaving him speechless,

It didn't make sense at all, Madhav was left staring blankly at her as she went out of sight as he was still trying to process what just happened.

Even though the words may seem mean, he know he never meant anything he said, even though he always say he hates her- somewhere deep down, he knows he actually enjoys bickering with her

It was their kinda langauge, bickering with each other in the worst ways possible which may seem like they are enemies to a stranger looking at them but they both know it's not the case even if they don't accept it.

After the sudden phonecall in the middle of bickering last week, this is the first time madhav met her - but it's not like he was pretending to wait for his friends but truly wanted to see what happened, no it's surely not the case.

He was truly waiting for his friends.

He would have never in the wildest dreams expected her to talk about herself like that -- he wondered where her usually sassy, savage self went

He felt himself sad and stressed even though he still doesn't understand why her change impacted him so much

He wanted to figure out what happened, yes he may hate her, but that doesn't mean you can't worry about your enemy right

He was still thinking about what might have happened as he went to his classroom.

In the afternoon, as he was going to centeen during lunch, he heard a muffled cry from a classroom but what surprised and shocked him at the same time was - the voice felt awfully familiar

He hoped it isn't what he is thinking it is

As he slowly opened the door from where he heard the cry, his heart dropped but at the same time there was immense fury to bury anyone who might have made her like this

There was the person who used to sass him, laugh like a maniac crying while hugging herself by the knees

He stood there uncerainly of whether she would feel comfortable enough for him to come hear - the last thing he would want for her is to panic or feel uncomfortable He slowly went near her and sat down - leaving a good distance but still within arm's reach.

"Do you want to talk about it...?"

She didn't even notice him until then, as she slowly looked up embarrassed of how puffy her eyes looks and how misheveled she looked - but more than that, she was shocked as he was the last person she would expect to be there let alone ask that question.

He suddenly wondered whether it was a wrong move to be there, whether it made her feel more uneasy

But it felt as if she was visibly more relieved he was there

She shaked her head indicating a no while he slowly opened his arms like inviting for a hug

She seemed reluctant but once she did lean into the hug she started trembling in his hold while she cried her eyes out

He sat there for 20 minutes straight holding her and caressing her hair to comfort her

He didn't know what caused this much pain to her, but he did know for sure they are gonna regret it real soon

To anyone looking at them, they must look like a couple regardless of being called enemies less than a day ago - but there was nothing sexual or even romantic about the act

But there was pure love, he finally realised maybe bickering was their love language

People may mistake it for romantic love, but he knew better- he know how romantic love feels like and he do know this isn't romantic love

They have many things to discuss about after this, but for now he know one thing for sure - he has a bestfriend to protect from this world

"ssh, I am here for you, It's okay" 💜

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #platonic love #enemies to lovers #ignore the mistakes

[firsttarotreader]

P is obviously getting older now (as all of us do). I think he still looks great and much younger than he actually is but, how do the cards suggest that he feels about himself as he grows older?

Hello! Pedro looks gorgeous and fucking hot and we are never disputing this around here, so I asked how HE feels about himself. The first card was The Sun.

This card indicates he is pretty much aware of the changes in his body and mind as he grows older, he sees everything. He sees himself, he shows himself and he is not afraid of that, he is what he is and his body is what it is, for better or for worse.

The next cards were the 6 of Swords, 4 of Swords and 6 of Wands reversed. 6 of Swords points to him actually feeling better now than he did in the past. He might have gone through some hard times when it comes to seeing himself and his body as he grows older, but he's better. He had to distance himself from all these thoughts (4 of Swords) and take a step back and take a good look at how he looks like now and how he will look as he ages. 6 of Wands reversed, however, shows him still having somewhat of a not so great self-image, lacking confidence and being self-deprecating sometimes.

Then we had the Queen of Wands reversed, Page of Wands and The Hanged Man (and yes, I know these cards have showed up in a recent reading and yes, I mix the cards many, many times before I do another one lol, it's just what came up). Queen of Wands reversed in this context is showing again this lack of confidence, lack of energy, shyness, the feeling of being a wallflower, too "common" and not deserving of any spotlight. Page of Wands is pointing to him still being so full of energy and youth and willing to explore EVERYTHING life has to offer him, but the The Hanged Man tells us he is still hesitating, he's hanging, suspended, and not deep diving because of this lack of confidence and lack of will.

The last 3 cards are The High Priestess, Queen of Swords and 3 of Pentacles. The High Priestess could be indicating he has learned so much about himself and life and the world, he is wiser now, and there is still this component of mystery and retreating in him. He can judge things better now and see when they are not what they look like. He might see himself getting older and wiser and choosing what he wants to reveal to the others or not, not necessarily fans, but to everyone around him. Queen of Swords is about him being a lot more rational than he might seem sometimes, he might approach aging in a very rational way, he faces it as he can and he tries to avoid getting too emotional over it. 3 of Pentacles shows the key to that are his connections. He knows he should not be alone in this process, he knows he can (and should) count on his family and friends to help him deal with life and the process of aging.

So even though he might lack confidence sometimes, he also knows it is what it is and that he won't be alone. Interestingly enough, one thing about Pedro's readings is he is always mysterious. There is always something he is not fully sharing, even with his friends, about his emotions. I know he has said he can't keep secrets and all, and I am sure he can be open with his friends about things, but there is something about him that's always present in his readings that advises us to never take everything at vace value, he is not always what he seems, he is not always feeling what he seems to be. This is endlessly interesting in his readings, not gonna lie.

#aging #appearance #self image #Readings

[freekymonstr]

If this is a topic you are not comfortable answering for I will totally understand, and I don’t want to cause a trigger for anyone else who might read it either. If you are alright with doing an ask on this: How would the droids be with self harm?

tw

————-

I have a very unhealthy perspective on making mistakes, and I feel the need to punish myself for inconveniencing people. I don’t have the guts to actually c/ut myself, but I do mark up my wrist with scratches from my thumbnail - I’m actively working on this compulsion with someone I trust, and hope it’s something I one day don’t feel the urge to do. :)

Before I start I want to say I'm proud of you for working towards healing and finding someone you trust to help with this process. It'll be a long one and sometimes difficult, but it's more than possible.

Don't get discouraged if, after you feel you've healed, you have the urge or end up doing it again. Healing isn't linear and while it may seem like you ruined your hard work from the past, please believe me that you didn't. I only say this because I've seen too many people give up when they were so, so close to making it through. One tiny setback does not negate everything you've done prior, please remember this.

You will come out of this feeling alive in a new way and the world will look and feel much different. It doesn't seem like something that will have such a drastic change in your life, but it does. Everything will be a little brighter, the grass a little greener, the sky a little bluer. I'm excited. I can't for you to get there <3

-

Since this post is already getting a bit long (sorry) I'll go ahead and put the droid stuff under a read more

Alpha would find it counterproductive no matter the severity. Humans couldn't just be fixed like robots can. Why cause yourself harm over a simple mistake? But he'd come to realize that maybe you two weren't so different. Rather, maybe robots; who he'd previously held to be superior to humans; weren't so different from their creators. The apple never falls far from the tree. Alpha found his own hypocrisy laughable as someone who essentially did the same thing to himself over mistakes and failures, or took his grievances out on the others. The various scars or marks from previous injuries were still visible on his synthetic skin. "This isn't healthy," he'd grumble, but he would still take you to the bathroom to put medicine on it. He may argue that it was simply to prevent any possibility of infection as that could get bad very quick and he didn't want to deal with it. If he were to really think about it though he was yet again closing the distance between the human race and himself. "If you feel a need to do this again in the future, for whatever idiotic reason, come find me instead."

Beta knew what that felt like. He knew the anger and disappointment in yourself at any failure or mistake. They knew the feeling of knowing nothing else to do except take it out on yourself. Alpha never helped but he didn't blame him. He struggled with his own problems as well. Beta would take you to get it cleaned up, quiet and gentle as ever, until finally he'd ask, "Do you have anything else you could do instead?" If you didn't know, or maybe hadn't thought about it, they would do their best to offer solutions. "If you're at home you could hit a pillow instead, or maybe keep a little toy with you? We have lots of things around here that several of us use to destress. Let's go find one you like to keep with you."

The first time Bing saw any semblance of an injury he'd be anxious, main goal to fix you up, but secondary being finding out what had happened. "Did you do this to yourself?" They'd ask, analyzing the wounds while cleaning them. Certainly inflicted by a human being, angle and trajectory indicating by the self. "Sorry. That was, like, a really invasive and uncool thing to ask." His otherwise silence was uncharacteristic, deep in thought, clearly worried over you. "If you ever need to talk or anything or just, like, I don't know- get the energy out- I'm always here, bro. Just shoot me a message or come find me, okay? I don't wanna see you hurting, even if it's up here," he'd give a small smile and poke you in the forehead.

Upsilon, like Beta, was well aware the self hatred an individual was capable of. Always holding himself to a standard impossibly high, even for a robot, he took his shortcomings harshly. It was normal for him to be quiet, but this wouldn't be the comfortable silence you were used to as he cleaned up the wounds. When all was said and done he'd lean back in his chair. "This is a common occurance, I assume?" He'd ask. His irritation would not be out of malice, but that he hadn't realized sooner how you felt and that you were struggling. "Just... Be careful, please." As you'd be leaving, he'd get your attention. "And next time you feel the need to do something like that, come to me instead."

Delta would worry about you often, especially if he noticed you were feeling a bit off that day. There weren't many things he felt he could do to help other than be there for you, so he tried his best to do so. "I know you probably don't like this. I'm not exactly happy about it either." He'd say after finding out. "I don't mean that I'm, like, mad at you or anything. I'm just," a sigh. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to help. But... From now on you let me know, okay? We'll go do something, or if you want we can just chill at the house together."

Gamma would be quick to notice when something's wrong, whether it's a difference in the way you're standing or carry yourself, or even subtly covering or touching what had been done. "Lemme see," he'd demand and hold his hand out. She wouldn't act like it was a big deal, no need to make you feel any worse about it than you probably already did. "Okay, let's get you cleaned up." It would be quick but careful, and topped off with a colorful bandaid should it be needed. "You wanna go get some ice cream or something? Ooh, or Starbucks. Or... Anything, actually. Let's just go somewhere."

#asks #anon #oc: droids #gamma or beta would probably be the best in this situation #gamma especially because of her purpose #at least imo bc i prefer ppl being nonchalant about it and not acting like im gonna explode 💀

[proud-mama-joyce]

Headcanon at the moment for Mike’s initial days in California: 

Mike is terrified of Will finding out about his feelings for him, and he’s DONE dealing with people checking in on him, so it’s easy for him to fall into the complacency of acting like everything is normal with El for a while. She’s happy to see him, so that makes it simple. He wants Will around and doesn’t want to be a bad friend like last summer, so he thinks, the solution is to do more things with El and Will together, right? But he’s too self-conscious to interact normally—or much at all—with Will right away, and Will can tell something is off. Mike still keeps tabs Will, pining from a fear-induced distance and hypersensitive to reactions that could indicate that he’s screwed up and made Will aware of his feelings. (The outcome could only be horrific, in Mike’s mind. He might lose Will for good.) This creates a burning desire to know what’s wrong whenever Will seems upset, but he has trouble being his old, caring self around Will. It’s confusing to navigate, and it risks being revealing. It’s easier to be a little angry instead.

Some roller rink angst where I could imagine part of this playing out (disclaimer…I’m a complete newbie writing anything like this):

 [Will leaves the skating area, returning his skates. He needs to get away from Mike and El, as quickly as possible. Why was I invited if Mike only has eyes for her?]

[Mike bursts through the door to the men’s room to find Will leaned over a sink, eyes closed and looking lost in his thoughts.]

“Will, what the hell? Why did you leave?”

“Oh, so this is the only way you’ll talk to me alone.”

“I thought you and El were friends now. What’s the problem?”

[Will looks up quickly, locking eyes with Mike.] “The problem? El’s not the problem, it’s you. You’re still acting like I’m not even here! This is just like last summer, except now I’m in the same room and forced to watch instead.”

“Well whose fault is that? I try to include you but you’ve barely spoken a word since I got here.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a little hard to get a word in when you’re all over each other every second.”

“She’s my girlfriend and she hasn’t seen me in months! Do you expect me to just ignore her?”

“Just—why did you come here, Mike? Was it just to see her? Because if it was, just tell me and I’ll leave you alone and we can stop pretending that we’re even still friends.”

“Still friends? Wait—what do you mean?”

“What else am I supposed to think? Did all of my letters go missing?”

“No—no! I was just—things kind of got crazy for a while, and I—"

[to himself] “Crazy.” [Will looks toward the ceiling for a moment, eyes glassy.] “Did they?”

[Oh.] “I didn’t mean—what I meant was—"

“I guess—” [Will’s voice lowers with a tense glance at the door]—“since I don’t like girls, that makes everything weird now for you? God, I’m so stupid for thinking we actually moved past that. Do you even know how much that hurt, coming from you? I forgave you, but maybe I shouldn’t have. Were you ever actually sorry? Do I just disgust you now?”

[Mike freezes. Will doesn’t like girls? Will’s face hardens with the silence.]

“I get it. Well, good thing I’m learning to live without you.”

[Will turns abruptly to leave.]

“No, Will, wait—”

[Will looks back as Mike makes a motion to reach for Will’s wrist, but hesitates and pulls back at the last second. It does not go unnoticed.]

“Fuck you, Mike.”

[A loud crash and screams snap their attention outside, and they scramble out the door to find out what’s wrong. Mike’s mind is reeling.]

#byler #byler tumblr #mike wheeler is gay #will byers

[ddarker-dreams]

Division. Yan Scaramouche x Reader [Implied x Yan Childe]

Warnings: Kidnapping, unwanted physical contact and implied suggestive themes. Word count: 1.3k.

While your body might be sore, it’s your arms that feel the worst.

They’re hoisted above your head with a rope secured tight around your wrists, longing for an opportunity to rest. You’ve been standing in this awkward position for many miserable hours. No windows in this dreary cobblestone prison make it difficult to tell the time or to find anything interesting to look at. There’s still no clear indication as to why you’ve ended up in this nightmare, much less when it will end. The person you’re assuming to be in charge has been subjecting you to malicious verbal jabs for the entire duration of your confinement.

“Truth be told,” he circles you like a hawk, his tone deceitfully sweet as honey, stopping only to admire your immobilized form. “I wasn’t sure what the appeal to you was at first.” 

Scaramouche leans forward, soft strands of indigo hair brushing against your face as he closes the distance. He runs a finger over your exposed collarbone, mirth dancing in his eyes at the goosebumps following in its wake. “But now… I think I’m starting to get it.” 

Mustering up your strength and courage, you narrow your eyes, glaring daggers at your captor. He’s thrilled at the sight, unable to hold back his laughter. The finger tails up, to the crux of your neck, which he then wraps his hand around. Your pulse accelerates at the unwelcome sensation, an element he doesn’t miss.

“You’re… you’re Fatui, right?” You inquire, refusing to take this torment in silence. Curious, he nods his head, the pad of his thumb rubbing up and down your neck slowly. 

“If this is about the Northland bank loan, then you’re making a mistake. I’ve already cleared things up with your boss.” As soon as the words fell from your lips, you regret them. Scaramouche’s mischievous attitude dissipates, his eyes piercing through you and a scowl on his face. The tension in the room rises to new heights, thick and palpable. 

“‘My boss’, you say,” he repeats with an irate click of his tongue as if it were the highest insult. “Tartaglia is no such thing, I can assure you.” 

What can this be about then? Your final line of defense is crumbling, now aware that using Childe’s favor on you won’t be viable. It felt reprehensible to use it in the first place, but lowering yourself to such a level would’ve been inconsequential if it earned your freedom. Instead, it’s done the opposite, adding kindling to the flame. Never have you regretted anything in your life as much as your involvement with the Fatui bank. 

Scaramouche removes his hands from you, a minor victory. What you said must’ve struck a nerve. Swallowing thickly, your mind searches desperately for any plausible escape. While you deliberate a plan, he crosses his arms against his chest, mouth set in a straight line.

“Tell me. Do you enjoy his company?” Scaramouche asks with a tilt of his head.

Licking your dry lips, you consider the question. Denial is the obvious answer, but speaking ill of a Harbinger feels like a death wish. Though he did seem rather displeased by mentioning Childe. Just when you thought you were beginning to understand the situation, that self-assuredness has been stolen, leaving more questions in its wake.

Testing your luck, you reveal the truth with a strained rebuttal. “No, I don’t.” 

More laughter. He doubles over, clutching his stomach as if your serious confession is the funniest joke he’s heard his entire life. This unabashed cruelty is a far cry from Childe’s code of conduct. Childe prefers to openly flirt with you, acting coquettish, whispering dirty promises into your ear. Scaramouche’s methodology is entirely different. He revels in your discomfort, actively saying anything to gain a reaction, positive or negative. With a preference for the latter.

“Ah, what a shame he didn’t get to hear you say that,” Scaramouche wipes the corners of his dark eyes, laughter finally settling down. “I’d give anything to see what his reaction would’ve been.”

“Are you two… enemies, or something…?” 

“He certainly thinks so now. I’m interested to see what Tartaglia plans to do, due to the fact Harbingers are forbidden to fight one another,” he hums, wrapping his fingers around a strand of your hair and playing with it. “Just how far would he go? I’m not sure myself, but I can’t wait to see.” 

The word Harbingers rings in your head like a funeral toll. Does that mean Scaramouche is one as well? It would explain his lack of concern for Childe’s combat prowess if he has similar capabilities. When he first approached you, there was no doubting the power he possessed, even with a smaller stature. Why is it these terrible individuals are drawn to you like a moth to a flame? Why are the Archons subjecting you to such torment?

“Another question. Just how far has Tartaglia gone with--” 

“My lord!” A booming voice interrupts, capturing the attention of you both. A person dressed in what you’ve come to recognize as Fatui’s uniform appears, bowing before a less than pleased Scaramouche. 

“Lord Childe is demanding to speak with you,” The agent relays. “I know you said not to interrupt, but, this seems rather urgent.” 

Scaramouche sighs, releasing your hair with a frown. “That was faster than I anticipated.” 

So he was expecting this from the start. Is it relief that you feel? Your emotions are a mess, due to a lack of eating and bodily fatigue. While Childe is unpleasant company, Scaramouche is equally awful, even going so far as to restrain you. You curse yourself for almost preferring being subjected to Childe’s self-serving antics over this. At least Childe gives an illusion of freedom, even if you know it’s only that, an unobtainable reality. When he doesn’t make any movement to leave, the agent speaks up again. “My lord? What should I do?” 

“Did you tell him to leave?” “As you commanded to, yes. I’m afraid he... insisted.” 

“Of course the lovesick puppy did,” Scaramouche shakes his head. “No matter. I’ll deal with this myself. Head back and tell him to await my arrival.” 

The term ‘lovesick puppy’ brings questions anew, as you’re solid in the belief what Childe feels for you isn’t love. Voicing this sentiment won’t get you anywhere, so you resolve to hold your tongue, silently steaming in your indignation. 

The agent’s body stiffens and they clear their throat. “T-that’s the other issue, my lord. I’m afraid he’s… coming as we speak.” 

Scaramouche doesn’t seem visibly bothered by the revelation, treating it as a mild thorn in his side than an urgent dilemma. You’re left speechless by the unfolding events, looking past the kneeling agent expectantly. Would you finally be able to leave this awful prison? You’d be going into the hands of one madman to the other’s, but the option is sounding oddly appealing at the moment. 

Scaramouche returns his attention to you, appearing pleased with himself. “Be sure to tell him what you said to me earlier.” 

Shifting uncomfortably where you stand, you look to the side, preferring not to be subject to his scrutinizing gaze. Objecting to Childe has never ended well for you. Then there’s the problem of Scaramouche -- how would he react to blatant disobedience -- is it possible his response would be worse for you? While you consider these things, Scaramouche starts to work on loosening your bonds. 

He presses his lips against your ear and the ropes hit the ground.

“Or I might just say it myself. Your choice.” 

#scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #childe #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #my stuff

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (13/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.2k words

Warning : angst, violence, sad reader, sad Bucky, shitty Rumlow, maybe Steve isn’t that bad, the doughnuts are back from chapter 11, did I mention angst?, angst, more angst

Everything was dark, you noticed. When you slowly returned to consciousness, you half expected to be in your bed with Bucky tangled beside you, just like in your dreams. He fit so perfectly in your bed — your life and you, as if he was a part of you, and you weren't sure where he ended and where you began. 

But when you moved to stretch your aching limbs, they moved a few inches before halting by some sort of restriction. Instantly, the bubble of your dreams burst, and everything came to your mind, and you abruptly looked around to find him. Bucky was still unconscious — tied to a chair, but instead of rope like yours, he was tied down with manacles. He had restraints on his wrists and ankles. You were sort of offended that they didn’t think you were strong enough to be captured like him. Not that you wanted those manacles anywhere near your body, but you preferred not to be treated as if you were meek.

What could be worse than getting kidnapped? It's definitely getting rekidnapped with the person who came to rescue you. Clint lied, he was working with Rumlow. His source was nothing but an ambush for Bucky. There were more than 4 of Rumlow’s men in the warehouse. Clint lied so that Bucky would come under prepared and he fell right into the trap.  

Earlier, it was just you in a room alone, but now it was you and Bucky in a dingy cell-like room with a closed door. He was still knocked out when the man known as Rumlow walked in. You recalled him from the time he came to the club, and you wanted nothing more than to run towards the safe embrace of your lover. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Rumlow’s steps halted when he was near your tied form. His hand came for your cheek and naturally, you recoiled away. Your rejection didn’t deter him, it only fueled his fury more as he held your chin tightly in his other hand and made you look at him. You attempted to get out of his grasp, which only angered him more, and he struck his hand to your face. It ached so much and it was so loud that it jolted Bucky up. 

“Will you look at that,” Rumlow mocked, pushing your face away from his hold. “Lover boy can feel her pain.”

It took a second for Bucky to drink in the sight and commemorate everything. Once everything came back to him, he looked at you deplorably, his eyes filled with concern and guilt as he saw the blood dripping down your face.

“Get away from her, Rumlow!” Bucky seethed when his gaze was back at the man who hurt you. Despite the warning, Rumlow moved more towards you. One hand running his knuckles on your face in an attempt to be soothing, while the other held your chin in a painful grip.

“Why do you get to keep such a pretty thing all to yourself?” Rumlow asked rhetorically. “I should get a taste too.”

Before Bucky could try to do something, a knock on the door attracted everyone’s attention. Clint came in with a look of victory on his face.

“You betraying son of a bitch,” you hissed. Unlike Bucky, you didn’t have much self-restraint or any wise escape plan cooking in your head. “Why the fuck did you do it?”

“You’re new, sweetheart,” Clint pointed out, his tone condescending. “You don't know how it works.” 

“What I know is that your wife is friends with Wanda's girlfriend,” you retorted back immediately. You were tired of being seen as weak. ”How will she feel when she finds out that you betrayed Bucky?”

A look of uncertainty came over Clint's face and you continued, “I might be new, sweetheart, but I’m not dumb.”

When Clint was astounded, Rumlow spoke up,” Ah, the power of pillow talk. You are one feisty little bitch. What else did he tell you? Did he tell you that his work is not illegal and he sells weapons to the government?”

You looked at Bucky, hoping that the man you knew and loved was nothing like this monster who assaulted you. Rumlow continued, “Barnes, Rogers and I started this whole a business together. They enjoyed the money that was brought in with our illegal escapade. He enjoyed girls like you every day. Until one day, the childhood buddies decided it was time to go clean. And they just left us in pursuit of some dream life.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked over at Bucky who was staring at the floor as if waiting for it to open and swallow him whole. Was he ashamed of his past? Did he think that his past would make you love him any less? If he did, then he was highly mistaken because now you didn't see James as your arrogant boss. Now you saw a young boy who made some questionable choices and, to make a better life for himself and his family, he changed his direction. Now you saw a reckless boy who did stupid shit in his past like everyone in the world and instead of letting it define him, he made a better life for himself. Now you saw a hardworking boy who worked his ass off to build an empire for himself and his loved ones. All of these versions of him existed before you, but you only saw one — the one that mattered to you at least, you just saw the love of your life, your Bucky.

The universe might have listened to your pleas because Rumlow’s phone rang and both he and Clint exited the room. You didn’t know how to start a conversation with Bucky. He didn't want to, that you were sure of. What were you supposed to say? That his hardship and past made him look hotter in your eyes? You wanted to avoid romanticizing his struggles, so you resorted to the only thing you do when you are tense.

“This is not the lunch date I had in mind,” you teased, forcefully huffing to make the situation seem less intense. When Bucky did not respond or even looked at you, you retorted to another antic. “I remember that song name, you know — Invisible String. Taylor Swift, of course. It would make an excellent bakery name. We can -”

“We can what?” Bucky finally snapped, “You want me to fire my friends and convert the most profitable club into a fucking bakery, huh?” 

“Is that what you want? A life with a man who got you involved in this shit?” you flinched at his harsh words. You knew this wasn’t your Bucky — your Bucky was all about sweet touches, teasing words and passionate kisses. No, this was the Bucky that Rumlow recognized. 

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your tone gentle. “I’m sorry you're stuck here because of me, but -”

He cut you off. “Doll,” he exhaled, his voice devoid of all the venom present a moment ago, It was filled with the adoration towards you that you were used to; Nonetheless, it still made you feel dizzy all the time. His face softened before saying, “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I got you into this mess. I should have stayed away from you.”

You opened your mouth to object. You wanted to tell him that he was being stupid — that you would get through this together, but he sustained.

“I will stay away from you,” he pondered, his eyes avoiding yours again. 

No, you wouldn't let that happen. You finally had him, and you wouldn't let Rumlow get into Bucky's head. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

“There is nothing to talk about,” he concluded, “When we are out of here. I will maintain my distance.”

You tried to ask him to stop saying that, but he kept ignoring your words and looked at the wall behind you for almost an hour. When it got to your nerves, and you were starting to get pissed he started whistling a song you weren’t quite familiar with. “Seriously? How old are you? Five?”

He didn’t respond. “So what? You're just gonna ignore me while we’re tied here?”

 “Hey, let's play a game,” you tried again.

Before you could lose all your patience and start yelling at him, you heard grunting sounds from behind the door. You shuddered, swallowing the lump in your throat. You didn’t want to see Rumlow again, in fact, you never wanted to see Rumlow.

Sensing your discomfort made Bucky finally speak up. “Y/N, look at me,” his voice sweet as ever, as if he hadn't been ignoring you for the past hour. You looked at him, and he held your gaze, assuring you, “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak anything. Both of you held your breath, waiting for someone to walk in and hurt you more, but it never came. All that came was a blond man with a gun in his hand, whom you recognized instantly — Steve. You didn't like that man one bit because he clearly disliked you, but at that moment, he was your angel who came to your rescue.

Immediately, Steve ran towards his pal who nodded his head towards you, indicating his friend to let you out of the restraint first. Again, he had manacles around his wrists and limbs, and he wanted you to be free of the rope that was around you. Steve took his friend’s request and freed you of your restriction before doing the same for Bucky.

When you stood up, the world stood up with you, and you realized that you hadn’t eaten anything in more than 24 hours. You almost collapsed on the floor when two strong hands came to your relief and held you. You didn’t need to keep your eyes open to see who it was. Likewise, you knew it was Bucky — you could recognize his touch anywhere, and just liked that you passed out.

The next time you gained awareness, you were moving swiftly. It took you a few seconds to acknowledge that you were in a car. You craned your neck upward to find your head situated on a hard and firm chest, Bucky looked down at you and engulfed you tighter to his side, your legs resting on his lap while his free hand was settled on the back of your thigh, holding you closer to him. 

“Doll,” his voice was barely audible, and you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close to him or if he didn't whisper it in your ear. “You gotta eat something.”

Tiredly, you nodded and Bucky nudged you softly, encouraging you to straighten up a little before eating something. You straightened your back and somebody passed a box from the passenger seat. Steve, you recognized him and the person in the driver's seat — Sam. Both of them looked at you sympathetically, and you smiled at them, or at least tried to. You were so exhausted.

Bucky opened the box and took out a doughnut, which you brought for him that morning, or was it the previous morning? How long had it been since you were kidnapped?

Two doughnuts and one bottle of water later, you were back at your apartment. Bucky’s hand rested on the small of your back as Steve and Sam followed both of you. You hesitated before unlocking the door, and Bucky ran his hand on your back reassuringly as he ensured you, “I’ve got you, doll.”

Bucky said something to Sam and Steve, but you were too exhausted to listen. Once they were gone, Bucky strode towards you, cupping your face in his hands as he scanned your face for all the wounds. “How about you clean up, and I’ll get the first aid kit. Okay, doll?”

Just like the whole night or day or whatever time it was, you didn't remember most of the bath. You remembered going into the shower — you remembered water running down your body — you remembered seeing red water (probably from your bruises) seeping in the drain — you remembered seeing someone in the mirror you didn't recognize — you remembered falling to the floor and crying and most importantly you remembered calling for Bucky.

As if standing outside the door, Bucky was crouched over you instantly . He wrapped a towel around your naked form and held you on the bathroom floor while you cried and finally acknowledged the trauma that you had encountered.

Bucky held you as you continued to cry in muffled sobs against his chest. When you fell asleep, he placed you and tucked you in your bed comfortably before getting in himself. You wrapped your arms around him in your sleep and held him like the anchor he was to you. Bucky pressed a kiss in your hair and whispered his love and apologies to you for pulling you into his messed up life. You couldn't fathom a word he confessed before sleep finally engulfed you.

TAGS : @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998 @marvel-3407​ @mybuck​ @priii​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @ladydmalfoy​ @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy​ @maladaptivexxdaydreaming​ @sabrinathesimp

A/N - Hey, I finally made a Taglist .This was a very intense (please don’t hate me) I love you bye. Take care!

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic

[yannowhatigiveup]

New but True

This is the 10k+ one shot I was talking about. I finished it as quickly as I could yesterday (with aching muscles WHICH STILL HURTS-) Any way enjoy!

Wordcount: >13k

Damian didn't know how he was expecting his day to go but he didn't expect it to go like this.

He woke up a little earlier than usual which was an annoyance since he would be doing patrol late at night. His brothers were also being a pain when he arrived for breakfast, but that was normal. What wasn't normal was the fact that he had this aching feeling in his stomach, a gut feeling, that something would happen. He wasn't sure whether it was something good or something bad, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He didn't pay any attention to Dick as he talked about how Kor'i and Mar'i would be coming to visit. The eldest, being his overdramatic self, let out a huff of taken offense when he realised Damian wasn't paying attention. His thoughts were interrupted by Jason's annoying snark.

"Demon-spawn's love life is nonexistent, did you really expect him to listen?"

Damian inhaled sharply through his nose, took a sip from the cup of coffee he stole from Tim, reached for a knife and looked Jason straight in the eyes. "Your life will be nonexistent, Todd"

As he was about to throw it, Alfred materialized behind him. "Master Damian, no throwing utensils at the table"

The green-eyed boy huffed, finishing the rest of Tim's coffee off. He left to his room with no comment and when he reached his room, he changed to go on a walk.

He didn't have a specific area he wanted to go to, he just let his legs do the walking. He made it to a paint shop, an antique shop, a small drinks stand where he bought a small lemonade from and a quiet street. Then the feeling returned only much stronger. Damian then felt as if he was being watched. His eyes squinted and scanned the area surrounding him only to be filled with dread as a wave of exhaustion hit him. Somehow someway, someone managed to drug him. Soon the effects of the drug went in full motion and he sank quickly into darkness.

~~~

Damian, still half asleep, tried to move around, only to feel a chains bounding him to the floor. Now he was fully awake. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room and he came to the conclusion that he was kidnapped by the League of Assassins. He was heavily and expertly bounded to the floor which was a bother. Then a voice made him realise he wasn't alone.

"Wh-where am I?" A faint, small and sweet voice asked in French.

Damian's head turned to the direction the sound was doing from, his vision was then locked with the other figure in the room. Green eyes met blue. Damon didn't know what to say after meeting the girl's gaze and instead observed her. She was beautiful, probably the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and she looked small, frail and weak. But Damian knew better than to judge people based on appearance alone. It could all just be an act, an image she's trying to portray. 'This girl has to be dangerous or has to have a great significance of some kind. After all, she was kidnapped too'. Damian was about to answer when an all too familiar voice answered instead.

"You're in the League of Assassins, little guardian" a female voice replied in french. Damian then turned to meet his mother's glare, giving Talia a glare of his own.

"...Why am I here?" Even though the girl seemed very fragile at that moment, her voice was intimidating.

"To be betrothed to my son"

"What?!" Both teenagers exclaimed in French.

"You heard me. You-" Talia pointed at Damian. "are the heir to the League of Assassins and you-" her finger pointed to the blue-haired girl. "are the Great Guardian, heir to the Order of the Guardians." she then crossed her arms. "It would be beneficial for both parties for this marriage to take place as it would create an alliance between the two opposing organizations"

Talia approached the blue-eyed girl first. "I have your kwami" she whispered furiously in French. "Go through with this, otherwise your kwami will take the punishment" Damian didn't understand what his mother was talking about and soon she was approaching him. "You refuse, the girl dies. You choose" she told her son in English. Talia was very certain the girl heard and understood her words.

He didn't know anything about the girl but he would be damned if he let her die. Damian and the figure both locked eyes again. Though neither face showed any emotion, their eyes conveyed a silent conversation, a silent agreement.

Talia didn't see this as she was already turning away from them. "You'll now be escorted to different rooms to change". At her command, more people entered the room.

~~~

He was forced into his assassin's gear and dragged to the alter, many assassins with weapons drawn warned him to remain where he was. Then the doors opened. The mysterious blue-

eyed girl was fitted in a dark red qipao, her long midnight hair, that was now let down, framed her face perfectly. If they weren't in this situation, he probably would have approached the girl himself.

Being brought back to reality, both him and the girl stood side by side, looking up at Talia who had a goblet filled with god knows what. The brown-haired woman then forcefully took the girl's hand and sliced her palm, letting the blood drip down into the beaker. Upon doing so, the blue-haired girl winced when the blade made contact with her skin. Talia then took Damian's hand and did the same, Damian didn't show any emotion when the action was done. The woman mixed the liquids and poured the concoction into two separate glasses. She chanted something in another language which he didn't bother listening to. Both Damian's and the girl's eyes locked once more before they both brought the chalices to their lips and drank. Damian ignored the burning from the liquid as it went down his throat but he saw the girl gulp in visible discomfort.

After the ceremony was complete, the newlywed couple were forced into a bedroom. Damian tried opening the door but it was, shut. He turned to face the girl who was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I'm truly sorry for these turn of events"

"I'm so sorry they dragged you into this"

Damian and the blue-eyed girl shared a small but saddened chuckle as they both talked, in English, at the same time.

"Like I said earlier I... I'm sorry you were forced into this" Damian murmured as he went to sit next to the girl, keeping some distance as to not make her uncomfortable.

"I'm gonna stop you right there" She put her hand up, indicating for him to stop talking. "You were roped into this as much as I was" the girl hesitantly placed her hand on his and surprisingly, Damian didn't feel the need to pull away. "The only person here to blame is your mother" her eyes widened at her own statement "Sorryifthatoffendedyou!"

Damian chuckled at her reaction. "It's fine. She only gets the privilege of being called my mother because she's biologically related to me" he thought for a moment and cleared his throat. "Since we're... married"

"We might as well try to make it work" she smiled at him and Damian felt his cheeks heat up ever so slightly.

He nodded. "Firstly, Hello, my name is Damian, Damian Wayne and I am your husband"

"Well hello too you too! I'm your wife and my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng... or is it Wayne now?" Marinette asked slightly flustered. Damian decided that he enjoyed seeing her flustered. He took the hand that was resting on his and gently kissed her knuckles. The bluenette's blush was far more visible now.

"Marinette" Damian hummed. "A beautiful name to suit a beautiful lady such as yourself"

She giggled, Damian revelled in the sound. "You're one to talk tall, dark and handsome" she abruptly stopped. "Wait, Damian Wayne?" Marinette tried to stifle her laughter but failed.

"What's so funny?" He shot her a jokingly glare.

"No it's just-" she tried to control her laughter and managed to lower it to giggles. "There's a girl in my class and she says that you and her are a couple"

The look of disgust on his face managed to throw her into a fit of more laughter. "The only woman that I love is my beautiful wife" he grumbled, pulling Marinette closer to him and wrapping his arm around her waist. Damian felt the blue-eyed girl's body freeze. "Sorry I-" he was cut off when Marinette leaned into his embrace, her head snuggled under his chin.

"I love you too, mon chéri"

~~~

In the few hours she really got to know him, Marinette fell for Damian, she fell hard. He told her about his pets and about Jon, his self proclaimed best friend. He then told her about his family, how they were actually the Bats and how infuriating they were, though she knew he loved them. In turn she told him about being Ladybug and the situation in Paris, he was furious about not knowing of this sooner. Even more so after finding out her relationship with her classmates but he kept his promise to not kill them, for now.

They hadn't noticed how much time has past until the sound of the door opening reminded the couple of where they were. Damian and Marinette both stood up, the bluenette slightly behind her husband as Talia entered the room. The older woman tossed a cage and a key at the two, she left without saying a single word. Marinette picked up the key and stumbled to cage, shakily turning the key. As soon as the cage door opened, the red blur flew out and hugged her cheek.

"Marinette I was so worried!" Tikki squeaked

"I'm glad you're okay Tikki!" The bluenette turned to the black-haired boy who was smiling ever so slightly at the reunion. "Damian this is Tikki, my kwami. Tikki this is Damian, my husband"

Damian stood and nodded curtly at the flying goddess. The kwami flew up, inspected for a second and hugged his cheek. Marinette giggled at the interaction. "He's right for you Marinette. But the moment I get my hands on that witch of a woman, I will get Plagg to deal with her"

Marinette, not wanting to stress her kwami best friend, suggested that Tikki get some rest and the kwami, though hesitantly, agreed. Now it was just Damian and Marinette awake. The green-eyed boy walked towards the window, Marinette followed suit.

"Tt, It's bolted down where we can't reach" Damian was referring to the window.

"I checked for any secret doors or passage ways, nothing"

"We need to escape somehow" he murmured. 'We could try to pick the door lock but there's an object obstructing the hole, only removed when the key is used. Kicking the door down could be an option but there could be assassins posted outside-'

"You look tired" Marinette's sweet voice interrupted his thoughts. "Go to bed"

"I can sleep on the flo-"

"It's cold sleeping on my own" she smiled up at him. Damian swore that her smile was brighter than the sun itself. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Alright"

Marinette was surprised at how well she trusted Damian despite the fact they had known each other for less than 24 hours. Yet here she was, cuddling up in her husband's arms. It was probably Plagg's influence giving her confidence. Then again, Damian must be thinking the exact same thing. She reached out to cover the black-haired boy completely with the blanket provided. When she was sure he was safe under the blanket, she kissed his cheek and snuggled back into his chest. They could escape later, right now she just wanted to spend time with Damian. Her husband.

~~~

A few days had past and they still hadn't made any progress of escaping. Though they had made progress in bonding. Despite the fact they had only been with each other for a few days, they felt as if they'd known each other for years. They knew each other's hobbies, favourite activities, body language. It's almost as if they could communicate through their eyes alone. Damian hate to say it, but he had to thank his mother for introducing the two. Though that small spark of gratefulness would soon flicker out.

One day, Damian woke alone. He noticed the lack of his wife's signature scent, vanilla and cherry blossoms courtesy of her shampoo, as well as the lack of warmth when he woke up. It hit him like a train, Talia took her. He stormed through the door, surprisingly it was left unlocked. He found his mother in a separate room, calmly drinking tea.

"Where. Is. My. Wife." He growled out. Talia looked at her son, put her cup of tea down and stared straight into his eyes.

"We've decided" she began slowly. "That we need more from their side of the bargain" A dangerous glint was in her eyes. "We've asked for the miraculous in exchange for protection but since they've refused, we're going void this bethrothal. By killing the girl. You are no longer needed here"

Damian's eyes were wide open. Marinette was the only person in the world he truly loved, she didn't judge him for his past and she didn't mind when he was stubborn and self-centered. He'd finally opened his heart to her fully, now his mother was going to kill her. His fists were clenched but before he could do anything, he was hit at the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

~~~

"Has Master Damian returned?" Alfred asked when he entered the living room.

"Nope, the brat's not home" Jason replied, too invested in one of his books.

"Is there something wrong, Alfred?" Alfred turned to where Dick was sitting on the couch, eager for his wife and daughter to return from Tamaran.

"Master Damian is usually home by now when he goes out for walks and it is almost time for dinner" he sounded as if he was going to say more but there was someone at the door so he went to see who it was, Dick followed thinking it was Kor'i and Mar'i. But before he left he told the other two men in the room to call Damian.

Jason tried first but succeeded no results. "You try Replacement"

Tim, who was losing it slightly as he had one less cup of coffee than usual, obliged, only to receive the same outcome. Getting slightly confused, he tried tracking his little brother's phone. Soon Mar'i came in.

"Hi Uncle Jay! Hi Uncle Timmy!" She looked around the room, her green eyes slightly glinting with sadness. "Where's Uncle Dami?"

Tim and Jason looked at each other, gesturing for the other to answer. Luckily Alfred stepped in. "He's out on a walk. Right now it's time for dinner so let's get you seated"

The little girl bounced with joy. "Okay Papa Alfie!"

The the two left, Bruce decided to walk in. He glanced briefly around the room. "Where's Damian?"

"He's not answering any calls or messages. I tracked his phone and-" he turned the computers screen around, showing a map with a circle indicating where Damian's phone was.

"Should we go get the Demon Brat now B or?" Jason asked.

"You can go Jason"

The second eldest went to the batcave to suit up and Tim sent the location. It lead Red Hood to a quiet street, and an unsupervised phone. He picked it up, saw all of the notifications on it and looked around the area. No Damian in sight. What was insight though, was a cup of lemonade, nearly finished. 'This is getting very weird very quickly' Red Hood figured it would be best just to take it back in case.

When he got back, he put the lemonade through for testing and went upstairs for dinner, Damian's phone in hand. When he arrived he was met with all the stares of anticipation. He sighed and put the phone on the table.

"I didn't find Demon Spawn" nearly all of the table sighed. "All I found was lemonade, didn't know he drank it"

"Did you get it tested for any sedatives?" Dick asked, worried for his little brother.

"In the cave now"

"Tim, he has a tracker on right?" Dick turned to the coffee-deprived boy.

Tim nodded and pulled his phone out. "It must've got damaged somehow, it's not appearing on the map"

"Has it got a tracked history of where he's been?" Bruce cut in. Tim fiddled with his phone for a moment.

"His last tracked location was the same location where we found his phone"

"Is Uncle Dami gonna be okay?" The small girl's voice echoed in the room.

"Don't worry my little bumgorf, I'm sure we will find him" Kor'i reassured her daughter.

Soon dinner was finished, Kor'i took Mar'i to her room so the others could find out what happened. When they reached the batcave, the lemonade, the only piece of evidence they had, had traces of a very strong sedative that would've knocked Damian out in seconds. They went out on an earlier patrol to see if they could spot the green-eyed boy. Nothing. On the regular patrol, no villain had claimed to taking Damian. Again, the patrol received no results.

"I'll try calling Jon" Dick's worried voice whispered.

After a few rings, Jon picked up. "Hi Dick! What's-"

"Have you seen Damian today?"

"No I haven't, why is something wrong?" The boy asked, getting worried for his best friend.

"He's not picking up his phone and his tracker for damaged"

"...o-okay I'll keep an eye out for him"

Dick thanked the young superhero and shook his head to all the people in the room. They all collectively sighed. 'Where did you go Little D?'

~~~

A few days passed and they still had no luck. Jason was getting worried, 'The Joker better not have him'. Though Damian is a little shit at times, he was still his younger brother. Jason was always the first to get out and look for him, he was one of the last people Damian talked to that day, and he wasn't necessarily happy about what he said to him beforehand. If he was captured, tortured and/or killed by the Joker, Jason would never let the feeling of vengeance grow.

Red Hood surveyed the area and his head darted in the direction of what sounded like a struggle. He alerted the others through his comm and headed towards the noise. It came from two hooded figures and...

"Hey!"

The hooded figures froze at the sound of his voice. They quickly left the area not before harshly throwing the third figure at the nearby wall. Red Hood ran up to the boy and he was right. It was Damian, battered, bruised and unconscious. But he was alive. Red Hood scrambled to his side, carrying him on his back. "I found him but he's not doing too good"

"Bring him back to the batcave, Agent A will take care of him. In the meantime, return to patrol"

When they had all finished, they returned to the batcave where Alfred was hovering over Damian, who was on a bed, covered in bandages.

"Master Damian is recovering quickly, he'll wake up soon" Alfred reassured the worried family.

Though not most of them wouldn't admit it out loud, they deeply missed and were incredibly fretful for their youngest. Bruce, Dick, Tim and even Jason all sat around Damian. Only after Alfred assured them to bed did they leave the boy's side.

Tim woke up early, as usual, and he decided to fix himself a cup of strong coffee. He grabbed his laptop from the living room and instead of doing work there, he went down to the batcave at sat besides Damian's bed. He'd felt a pang of sadness when his younger brother didn't return home a few days earlier as he didn't interact at all will him before he left.

Tim didn't register when Damian left, or the fact that Dick was talking, or even when Jason kept throwing remarks here and there. The thing he did register though was the fact that his coffee cup was no longer in his reach. "Who took my coffee?" He tried to sound threatening but it came out as tired and completely done.

"Demon Spawn took it" Jason scoffed.

Tim then reached for the familiar cup from across the table, only to find it empty.

"How dare he drink my coffee" Tim growled, a new source of energy arising from his anger. "The brat's definitely going to get it later"

All too soon, it was time for breakfast. Tim got up to leave only to stop when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. The coffee lover turned to face a half conscious Damian.

"You're okay! Little D's awake!!" Tim shouted to get everyone's attention.

"Could you not burst my eardrums Drake?" The green-eyed boy grumbled, his head still throbbing from the hit he had taken earlier.

One by one, the others filed into the batcave. Dick gave Damian a big hug, Tim flashed a smile of relief, Jason ruffled the boy's hair and Bruce gave a small hug followed by a pat on the head. Throughout the whole ordeal, Damian had blank stare. No scowl, no unpleasant looks. Nothing. No one knew what had happened, only that it wasn't good. Soon, Mar'i came running in and jumped onto his bed, squeezing him in a hug.

"Uncle Dami we were so worried!" The little girl sobbed. Though the contact did hurt, he pushed aside the pain from the injuries and patted his niece's head.

"I'm back now"

"Where did you go?" Mar'i's eyes shone in burning curiosity. It reminded Damian of Marinette, the first thing she said had the same curiosity.

"It doesn't matter" he choked out. The others must have mistook the question as a trigger for a bad memory as they instantly changed the subject, they had no clue of the real reason.

"If you are well rested, Master Damian, would you like to join us for breakfast?" Alfred entered the room, his eyes were empathetic. 'Pennyworth knows what happened, he always knows'

"Yes, thank you Pennyworth" Mar'i jumped off so Damian could stand up. He suppressed a wince as he put pressure on his right foot. Slowly, the others left to go upstairs and Damian was left alone with his father.

"Damian" The green-eyed boy looked up to where Bruce was standing. "What happened?"

"Mother" he states simply, he didn't need to add anything else.

"What did she do?"

"..." Damian didn't answer at first, he looked away, wanting to avoid eye contact as much as possible. Bruce patiently waited, however. The green-eyed boy's head lowered to the ground but his gaze was fixated on his father. They had a deadly, destructive, toxic tint that even disturbed Bruce. But he said nothing, not a single word left his mouth and whatever he wanted to say seemed to die down in his throat. Damian took a few steps to one of the exits before stopping and turning back towards Bruce. "I appreciate your concern, father" Damian's lips twitched, forming a small smile, and he walked away, trying not to show he was limping.

Bruce watched as his youngest walked, limped, away. Whatever Talia had done, it had taken a toll on Damian. Mentally and Physically. He wanted to know exactly what happened so he could give the help the green-eyed boy needed. For now, he'll let his son relax and heal, he deserved it.

~~~

Marinette woke to a lack of warmth and the lost feeling of strong arms around her body. One of her eyes fluttered open, she was in a different room, one she didn't recognise. The bluenette began to panic and searched for the door, it was locked.

"Dami?"

No answer.

"Tikki?" Luckily, the small goddess was in the room.

"I tried to stop them but they knocked me out, I'm so sorry Marinette!" The blue-eyed girl was quick to reassure her kwami when she heard talking down the hall.

"Where. Is. My. Wife."

Marinette immediately recognised it as Damian's voice. She wanted to call out but it would be a stupid move, there could be assassins posted in front of her door, she could put Damian in danger, the possibilities were endless. So she just listened.

"We've decided... that we need more from their side of the bargain. We've asked for the miraculous in exchange for protection but since they've refused, we're going void this bethrothal. By killing the girl. You are no longer needed here"

The blue-haired girl then heard the sound of something heavy being used to hit someone, then a loud thud. Marinette had to cover her mouth so that her scream would be muffled. She had to get out of there. Now. The bluenette didn't want to leave without Damian, but he would want her to escape. She quietly transformed and went to the window in her room, it wasn't bolted down like the room she was previously in so she used her yo-yo to break it down. And she ran, she ran as far as her legs could take her. When she was positive she was safe, she took her yo-yo and called the one person who could get her out of there.

"Pegasus?" She asked, her voice hoarse as she held back tears.

"Ladybug! We're getting worried, where are you? A Parisian citizen is missing and there's an akuma attack currently going on and if you don't get here we'll 100%-"

"Can you get my location, please?" Ladybug pleaded, hoping that the horse hero wouldn't get mad for cutting him off. Other than the occasional computer keyboard sounds, the line went silent. "When you do, please don't question where I am. Can you teleport me back to Paris?"

"Got it Ladybug" the ladybug hero then heard a muffled 'Voyage!' in the background and a portal appeared in front of her.

The portal lead to the Eiffel Tower and in front of her was a worried Pegasus.

"I'll explain everything later, let's deal with this akuma first"

~~~

After a difficult akuma and a Lucky Charm in the form of fairy lights, Ladybug felt her walls crumbling.

"Ladybug!" Chat's voice echoed from behind her. The black cat hero was followed by Pegasus, Ryuko and Honey Bee, Chloe's new hero mantle. "What happened? Where did you go?"

Before she could answer, Pegasus spoke up. "Sorry to interrupt but my miraculously about to run out and I need to return it"

"Oh right, come with me Pegasus" She lead him to a nearby building and he detransformed, leaving Max standing where the horse-themed hero once was.

"My friend Marinette is still missing, can you-"

"She's safe don't worry, she'll be home soon" After bidding Max goodbye, she returned to where the other three heroes were waiting.

"Alright Buginette, explain" Honey Bee exclaimed as soon as Ladybug arrived. Though the spotted heroine didn't seem to be listening. "Ladybug-"

She detransformed, wearing a black qipao with floral embroidery, and Tikki hugged her cheeks as tears rolled down them. The others were quick to rush to her side.

"Mari-hime... what happened?" Ryuko began slowly.

"I think it's best if she explains this at home" Chat Noir suggested.

"I'll take her, you two detransform and meet her at home. I'll come up with a cover story" Honey Bee said, carrying the woeful bluenette.

When Kagami and Adrien arrived at the Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, Marinette's parents were busy in the baker but explained the story that Chloe had told them, how Marinette was a target for one of the Akumas and needed to leave immediately. They said she was up in her room. The two were about to walk up the stairs when Chloe burst though the door behind them, out of breath, and walked with them. As they opened the trapdoor in Marinette's bedroom floor, they found the bluenette sat on her chaise, being comforted by the small red kwami.

"You know how strong Damian is, Marinette. I'm sure he managed to escape and I bet he's as worried as you are right now" the three heroes heard Tikki say.

"Whose Damian?" Adrien asked. The bluenette only seems to then notice that there were others in the room with her. She sighed and gestured for the three to sit in front of her, which they did.

She took a deep breath. "So a few days ago I was kidnapped by the League of Assassins. They were the organization that the Order of the Guardians had been opposed to for so long. Their current leader decided it would be best to end this conflict and had me, along with her son, kidnapped for an arranged marriage. Damian is her son and before you bash him or something, he was just as forced into it as I was. He turned his back on his mother and the league years ago and I don't hold him for his past."

"Since the betrothal was sealed with magic, we both knew that there was no safe way around it so we decided to work with it. I got to know him, he got to know me et cetera. And I kinda fell hard for him. Earlier today I woke up in a different room than the one I had been locked in, luckily Tikki was with me. I didn't know where he was but I heard Damian confront his mother about my whereabouts. Then when she revealed she was planning to kill me, she injured Damian so that he would be unable to save me and I ran away." She composed herself and looked at Adrien's, Chloe's and Kagami's expressions.

"Now I don't know if Damian is okay or if he still loves me or if he hates me for leaving him behind-" she began rambling on again as her friends were still processing the information.

"Dupain-Cheng!" Chloe shouted, stopping Marinette from maundering on any further. "So you got kidnapped, you got married... and now your worried your husband hates you because you escaped?" The bluenette nodded slowly. "You get left alone for a few hours and you're already married..." she teased, trying to lighten up the mood.

Marinette's cheeks were tinted red but her expression didn't change otherwise. "You said he's the son of the one who kidnapped you right?" Kagami asked.

"Y-yeah"

"Does he know how to use a sword? I wish to duel him to see if he's worthy of your love" she stated simply. Adrien chuckled softly and Marinette smiled slightly.

"What's his last name as it's also your last name now?" The blue-eyed girl's cheeks got redder as she cleared her throat.

"Wayne, Damian Wayne"

If Chloe was drinking a something she would've done a spit take right at that very moment. "Damian Wayne? As in the son of Bruce Wayne the billionaire? The one Lie-la's lying about dating?" Marinette nodded.

"You were saying earlier that you think he might not love you anymore right?" Adrien tried to distract the girls from Chloe's spluttering.

"...yeah what about it?"

"Well you also said he confronted his mother right? Well he must've truly loved you to just go and yell at a dangerous person who was also the person holding them captive. Though you haven't really told us what he's like, I doubt he would just stop loving you like that" Kagami emphasized his point by snapping her fingers.

Marinette smiled. "Thanks for coming to talk but right now I'm exhausted"

"We'll leave you to sleep, Mari-hime" The Japanese fencer then pulled the two blondes out of the room as they both wished her a good nap. Marinette kept a smile until they left, it slowly fell and Mari sank in the pillows of her bed. It didn't feel right to sleep without Damian. She felt... incomplete without him by her side. The tears rolled down again.

~~~

It had been a few days since Damian was found and, honestly, he wasn't doing that good. He'd been quiet, ignoring all remarks from his brothers, hadn't issued any death threats, even his pets didn't seem to bring him more joy. What confused the bat brothers the most is whenever someone would call out for Mar'i, Damian would always glance at the direction of the sound, only to have a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes when he saw his niece but he would always put on a smile for the small girl, sometimes genuine, most times forced.

They didn't have a clue how to crack the case so they got the next best person to obtain information for the green-eyed boy. Jon.

When Jon appeared at the door, Alfred was quick to lead him to Damian's room. The sooner Damian had someone to talk to, the better. "Master Damian, you have a visitor"The door was unlocked so Alfred lead Jon in and promptly left afterwards.

There was silence between the two ad Jon sat down on the floor in front of his best friend, who was sitting on the end of the bed.

"Dami? Do you wanna talk about it?" Jon waited patiently for the green-eyed boy to talk. After a few heartbeats, Damian sighed.

"Mother kidnapped me for an arranged marriage" he murmured. Jon gasped lightly as Damian continued. "She and I were both kidnapped and forced to go through with it. That's how I got...this" He lifted his hand to show faint but noticeable, curved scar, made by a very sharp blade. After a few seconds, Damian put his hand back down. "We were trapped in a shared room so we took that opportunity to get to know one another"

Damian didn't continue after that and Jon came to a conclusion. "You realised you love her"

He nodded. "Now, it's my fault that she's been tortured. Because I wasn't fast enough to protect her..." This was probably the first time Jon had seen his best friend visibly melancholic so he gave him a small hug and surprisingly, Damian wasn't bothered to push him away. "I am so pathetic"

Jon noticed someone at the door, Dick perhaps, but he doubted they they heard anything as Damian's voice was above a whisper so that only Jon could hear. After hearing the person walk away, he decided to lighten the mood. "What's she like?"

"Beautiful, kind, smart, resourceful... She's the living embodiment of sunshine, a breath of fresh air. She isn't quick to judge and she's always got a plan in her head. She's persistent too, and it's adorable when she gets flustered" Damian smiled lightly to himself.

"What's her name? What does she look like?" If talking about this girl made the green-eyed boy happy, then that's what Jon will do.

"Her name's Marinette. Blue hair, blue eyes, short" Damian chuckled lightly. "A smile brighter than the sun itself" he paused. "I don't think she's dead, she's too strong to go down just like that. But I think she's absolutely livid at me."

"She loves you a lot right?, then she wouldn't be" Jon reassured his best friend. "I gotta go now but feel free to talk about her, kay?" Jon almost left the room but was stopped by Damian's voice.

"Hey, Kent" he turned. "Thank you"

Jon smiled brightly before leaving the room, he went down stairs to the living room and was greeted by Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Alfred and Kor'i.

"Well?" Jason pushed, eager to know what was bothering the brat.

He wasn't sure what to say until he heard Alfred whisper. "Let the young master tell them"

Jon shook his head. "Not my place to share. I'm sure he'll tell you eventually though, he just needs time to find the right words" 'He can't just waltz in and say "I got betrothed and now I think my wife hates me cause I left her at the mercy of my mother" They'll think he went mad!'

Bruce sighed. "Thank you Jon, how bad was the situation he was in?"

All the adults in the room were on edge as Jon took so time to formulate his answer. "The aftermath hurt him a lot" the others nodded.

"Wait" Everyone turned to the origin of the sound, Kor'i. "Why does Little D always tense when he hears Mar'i's name?"

"Yeah he does seem to do that" Dick murmured.

Jon was silent for a few seconds, 'What am I supposed to say? Damian's wife is called Marinette and "Mari" is probably a nickname for her. And your daughter just so happens to have the same name!' "Uh, Well Damian himself will have to explain that" The couple, though seemingly unconvinced, nodded.

"Thanks for your help, Jon"

~~~

A few months have past, Damian has slowly gotten better but he still hasn't quite been the same. He'd always have a scowl, as normal, and he'd issue death threats but only after a lot of probing. He'd also refrain from using his katana and other sharp utensils as a first resort. It was scary to say the least. He'd also spend a lot more time in his art room. Though he never displayed any emotions on his face, Damian's brothers noticed how whenever the green-eyes boy was upset, he'd always run his thumb on a long scar on his palm. Obviously from when he was kidnapped.

No one found out what happened as they never asked. Though they were curious. The curiosity grew when Jason managed to sneak into Damian's art room.

Jason was walking around the manor, looking for one of his guns that one of his brothers had hidden, he still didn't know who did it. Somehow, he found himself in front of the door leading to Damian's painting room and surprisingly, it was unlocked. Wanting to look for his missing gun and definitely not wanting to snook around, Jason waltzed in.

Briefly looking around for his gun, Jason came to the conclusion that it wasn't in this room but he stayed to look, admire, at his youngest brother's paintings, his fingers stroked through his two-toned hair. Though he would never admit it, Damian had real skill. One painting in particular caught his eye. It was small but held incredible detail, it looked like a scene frozen in time, but the detail wasn't what caught his eye.

The painting itself was of a long, sharp blade, it was covered in blood. Two different shades of blood. Jason suspected that this was the blade that caused the scar on Damian's palm, further supported by the still drying paint. Most of the paintings before the incident were either of the family or just landscapes, it was no coincidence that this painting was of a memory of what happened the the period he was taken.

Noting that the Demon Brat arrived back from patrol at 4 am, he was probably still asleep, Jason took the painting to bring to the living room.

"Any luck finding your gun?" Tim questioned mockingly.

"No" Jason replied in the same mocking tone but it quickly changed into a serious stare. The other adults noticed this change. He turned the painting in his hand around so that the artwork faced the audience. "I think I found a clue"

When that happened, they watched the boy's moves much more carefully. As well as monitoring the paintings in his room. Thankfully, the other paintings weren't of what happened, they returned to simple family portraits and landscapes. Though it could be debatable as they still had no idea what happened.

Bruce decided to host a competition, where the prizes would be an all-expense paid trip to Gotham and tours of WE for the next generation of work force, it was to write a letter detailing accomplishments and good-deeds as well as those who inspired the writer. He was going through the entries along with all his sons, Damian insisted on reading the ones he was given in his room, though not all of them wanted to help willingly. Expect for the occasional tapping at the computer's keyboard and thoughtful hums, all was silent in the manor. The silence was broken by Tim.

"Hey I like this one" he sipped on his coffee as Dick came to read the letter over Tim's shoulder.

"I think we found a winner" Dick chimed as Tim sent it to Bruce.

When he got it he read through it carefully. This was definitely one of the best they had received. "Very detailed, descriptive, the punctuation is on point, there's a tribute to their heroes as well" Bruce hummed. "Who's the one who submitted this?"

Tim squinted at the computer screen. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, from Paris"

"You're gonna do a background check on her, aren't yo-" Jason paused mid sentence. "Why did the lady mention heroes?"

~~~

A few months have passed since the newlyweds were separated, Marinette still missed Damian every day. Adrien, Chloe and Kagami still didn't know how to cheer the bluenette up, they hadn't told Luka yet either as they were aware he still had lingering feelings for the blue-eyed girl. That was until one day a certain competition caught the school's eye. One being hosted by a certain Bruce Wayne.

When Marinette entered her classroom early, for once, Chloe and Adrien were already waiting for her. "Look at this Mari-bear!" The female blonde shoved a flyer in the bluenette's face. Marinette took it from Chloe, her eyes getting wider as she scanned it.

But he time she was done, one had was covering her mouth as her eyes began to water. "If you enter you'll get a chance at winning and that means you'll get to see Damian again!" Adrien encouraging smile was blinding.

The bluenette nodded. "Yeah, I'm gonna enter" Just as she finished her statement, the bell rang and the rest of the students filtered in and once all the students were seated, Miss Bustier entered. She was surprisingly on time, for once.

"Class, I have an important announcement to make" The incompetent teacher clapped her hands to gain the class' attention. They settled down after a few minutes. "As I'm sure some of you have heard, Bruce Wayne as announced a competition which the price is a trip to Gotham!"

"My Damiboo must've begged Bruce to host this competition as he could see me again" Lila gasped dramatically, her fake, faker than her tinnitus, crocodile tears threatened to spill. "I-I w-w-wasn't supposed to s-say a-a-anything. Please d-don't tell anyone!" The bluenette had to bite back a growl and merely settled for glaring daggers into the brunette's skull.

"We won't girl!" Alya comforted the liar, glaring at Marinette and Chloe at the back, as if daring them.

"Even if the competition was made for Lila to return for Gotham, we still need to have a good entry" Miss Bustier specifically landed her gaze onto Marinette, pushing all her responsibilities onto the bluenette, yet again. "I'll leave you to plan" The redhead teacher left the classroom, not even staying for a full 10 minutes. Marinette sighed and turned to Chloe.

"I'm going to write about our achievements as citizens, I hope I get chosen. I really want to see Damian again" The bluenette murmured, the blonde hugged her best friend.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll win. Then you and your loving husband will be reunited" Chloe's tone changed from sincere to teasing when she mentioned Marinette's husband. The bluenette flushed and went to ask Mlle. Mendeleiev if she could work in her classroom.

The science teacher had become Marinette's favourite teacher in the entire school, she saw through Lila's lies and did approach the brunette about them. Lila did her charm but Mlle. Mendeleiev never fell for it, merely making the liar believe she had. The science teacher never properly took proper action against the student in fear of losing her job but she did keep a folder of evidence against Lila, one that was shared with Marinette so when the time came, the bluenette would have enough evidence to fully bring the liar down. She was helpful for her teacher's help. To no surprise, Mlle. Mendeleiev allowed Marinette to do her entry for the competition in her classroom and quickly the bluenette got to work.

Miss Buster only just announced this and the school only decided to hang the flyers when the due date was five days away. Not to mention it had to be written in English, it was hard enough writing something long, let alone in another language, even though Marinette was fluent in said language. Though it was a pain, it was nothing a few dozen cups of coffee could fix. Surprisingly, Marinette managed to finish it on the second day. Though she still had to proofread it as well as make sure it all made sense. On the third day, she was confident with her letter. Adrien, Chloe, Kagami and Luka all came to read it so the bluenette would be sure it was good enough to send. Once giving their praises, she hit send. She just hoped her father-in-law thought it was good enough.

A few days later, Marinette got her answer.

She arrived early that day, surprisingly, Chloe was in the classroom waiting. "Well?" The blonde stated impatiently, Marinette titled her head in confusion.

"What?"

"The email!" Chloe shook her head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It took a few moments for Marinette to process what her friend was saying. When she did, she jumped into her seat and opened her phone, her fingers shaky with fear and anticipation.

Dear Miss Dupain-Cheng

It's a great honor to tell you that your entry, out of the thousands that were submitted, was chosen as the winner for this competition.

As I first read through the letter you presented, I was intrigued and touched with the actions you and your classmates have done for your community. Each deed was different in it's own write and it was a great pleasure to have read through each and everyone, though, not many of your own had been written down. When you arrive at Gotham, I'd be delighted to hear your own achievements as I am sure, as proven by the way you spoke of your classmates, you have plenty of your own. I was also deeply touched at how you had a tribute to your own heroes in Paris. I was not aware before this that there were such important figureheads in the city so reading about them in your entry was fascinating to say the least. It was also a delight to read how the vigilantes of Gotham inspired you to help others.

The permission slip for the trip is attached to this email, please make sure the one in charge of your classroom has it signed for each student who wishes to attend. I'm sure you are aware that Gotham is a dangerous city and although we are taking extra security measures, it would be advised to have the class debriefed so they know what to expect in case a situation were to occur. If there are any requests or questions, please do not fail to contact me. I look forward to meeting you and your classmates when you arrive.

Congratulations once again,

Bruce Wayne

Marinette could barely hold back the tears of happiness building up in her eyes, Chloe got up and hugged the girl in celebration. Adrien came in soon after, both blondes hugged their best friend with too much force. Though it couldn't last long as the others were starting to file in.

"Class, I have some good news!" Caline Bustier announced. "We are the winning class for the WE trip to Gotham!" The class erupted into cheers, for a moment, Marinette was reminded of the simpler times when she just started out as a hero. Lila just had to ruin it.

"My sweet Damiboo!" The brunette had a hand on her heart, sighing dreamily. "I'm so lucky to have a kind, sweet and caring man as my boyfriend" The bluenette had to hold back a snort at the description, she settled with a small scoff.

Lila knew she was taking a risk a few days ago, saying that her 'Damiboo' had rigged the competition so that they could be together again but it was a calculated risk. Though she would never admit it out loud, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a great student. Marinette is well-educated, well-informed, possibly well-born and the bluenette used to be well-loved. Her winning this trip just proved it but Lila wasn't going to let the girl claim the winnings. The brunette suspected that Marinette would at least try to hint at winning, but she didn't. It was an unordinary occurrence, 'Maybe she realised she's no match for me'

"Now I need you all to signs these permission slips and return them to me by tomorrow" Caline handed out the papers and promptly left afterwards, despite having yet to do a lesson. But that didn't matter to Marinette. She was staring at her palm, her thumb stroking the fading scar.

"I can't wait to see you again, mon démon"

~~~

"Oh no" Tim muttered after taking a final sip from his third cup of coffee.

"What Replacement?"

"Take a look at this" the sleep deprived CEO turned his computer to face the other men in the room, Damian was still at school. "If she has a tragic backstory, B might go into serial adopter mode" The screen showed a file on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, including a photo of her.

"Raven hair? Check. Coloured-eyes? Check. Looks? Check. Childhood trauma and/or tragic backstory? Maybe. Holy Shit, B is definitely going to adopt her" Jason listed while Bruce sighed.

"Is there anything notable in her file?" Bruce asked, trying not to submit to his sons' accusations which were, in fact, correct. "From the letter, she seems quite fond of the supposed heroes in Paris"

"Well from the surface she looks like the average teen girl" Dick replied, peering over Tim's shoulder. "But it could all just be for show, you never know" the eldest son shrugged.

Bruce got up from where he was sitting and went to his study, using the excuse of 'work' and 'finalizing the plane tickets for the class'. In reality, he was checking for blank adoption papers. He had a gut feeling about this girl, something was going on behind the scenes.

~~~

The trio made sure they were early to enter school since Chloe said it was possible for Lila to get them, Marinette specifically, left behind. Though, they did spend some time saying goodbye to Luka and Kagami. When they arrived to school, the blonde's assumption was correct since they started to get on the bus. The troublesome class managed to get through the airport in a breeze and without any trouble, there was a bit of a miss-hap during check-in but it was all resolved in a flash.

Marinette, Chloe and Adrien were sitting in the airplane, waiting to take off. She's gotten the seats in economy with extra leg room which were a few rows ahead of the rest of the classroom using the excuse of 'a lot of class president work to do'. Bruce offered to upgrade her and the two blondes to first class so that they wouldn't be disturbed but Marinette politely turned it down. She didn't mind where she was as long as she wasn't near the class, and the mention of first class was bound to cause an uproar.

The bluenette's inner child wanted the window seat, Adrien wanted to be in the seat next to the aisle so he could get first glimpse at the food they were serving, Chloe just wanted to be in the middle for warmth. The seating arrangement worked perfectly. Every once in a while, a flight attendant would drop by to offer food and drinks. There were a few times that flight attendants would ask for one of the three to remind the class of the rules when they didn't listen to the cabin staff, Adrien dealt with the situation since he was the only one they'd actually listen too.

Soon, they landed. The flight had been an easy one since they didn't have to deal with the class's shenanigans while they were in the air. However, that luxury had left when they exited the aircraft.

When traversing through the airport, there had been attempts to get the bluenette lost and attempts to trip her up or gain a significantly bad injury. All attempts failed. Marinette, Chloe and Adrien had managed to weave through passport control peacefully. Even when they were at the baggage claim, not many big efforts were made, besides the classic hiding of the luggage, to rid Marinette of anything. She should've found that suspicious but she was much too tired to care, she barely slept at all on the flight. So when they arrived at the hotel, the first thing she did was lie flat on the bed.

Marinette slept well over nine hours before she woke up. "Tikki, what time is it?"

The kwami too was asleep so at the mention of her name, she yawned. "It's 9:45 am"

"Oh my kwami!" Marinette shot up out of bed to check her phone. Sure enough, there where many notifications of miss calls from Adrien, Chloe, Alix and even Nino. The bus was scheduled to leave at 10:00 but knowing Lila, she was probably over an hour late. The bluenette quickly got changed, brushed her teeth and headed straight towards the hotel doors, ignoring any feeling of hunger.

She pulled her phone out for the directions of Wayne Enterprises and kept her eyes on the screen, completely ignoring the fact that there was someone in the distance directly in her path.

~~~

Jonathan Kent was walking through the streets of Gotham, looking for a present for his best friend. His birthday was in a few days time and the superboy still hadn't found anything. He went to some art shops. Nothing. He went to some antique shops. Still Nothing. He even went to look at kitchen knives. He was that desperate. Jon sighed and continued walking, some shop was bound to peak his interest eventually.

All of a sudden, he heard someone running towards his general direction. Before he could register what was happening, the person ran into him, nearly knocking him down completely.

"Je suis désolé!" A feminine voice shouted out in French. "I-I'm so sorry monsieur!"

Jon then looked up to see a small French bluenette offering her hand to help him up. He gladly took it and when he was back on his feet, he readjusted his glasses to look at the girl properly. She was short, pretty and resembled a Wayne. While this girl was panicking and apologizing profusely, Jon was excited thinking he found a new friend. Though, this excitement didn't last when he saw the state she was in. 'Her bones are a mess! How is she not screaming in pain?'

He waved his hands in front of the girl to get her to stop. "It's fine honestly!" The girl seemed to calm slightly but her face was still worried. "Why you in such a rush anyway?"

"My class and I are visiting on a trip" the bluenette started. "We're supposed to be on our way to a tour but they left me behind"

"They left you all alone? In Gotham?" Jon questioned, 'What kind of stupid are these people?'

"I know right? They-" she was cut off by a notification sound on her phone. "Sorry just a minute"

Jon only then realised how good this French girl's English was. She then let out a sigh of relief and put the phone back in her purse, the blue-eyed boy tried not to use his powers to invade her privacy.

"They're very early, the tour starts in an hour and from the map I'm not far from where I'm meant to be, thank kwami" The young Kent froze at the girl's choice of words, Damian had mentioned that his wife had a companion called a 'kwami'. This couldn't be a coincidence.

"Well since you have time," Jon got the girl's attention. "How do you feel about getting some food? I don't know about you but I'm starving."

"Oh, n-no I could possibly impose-" her stomach grumbled cutting her off. Jon chuckled as he heard the girl whisper profanities.

"Come on I know a place not far from here, you can get a very good few of the WE building" He heard the girl's heart rate speed up a bit, that confirmed where her planned class trip was taking place. He gestured for her to follow him as he sped walked to the location.

When they arrived, they both ordered, Jon ordered a burger while Marinette ordered a cinnamon bun, and sat down. The blue-eyed boy noticed how the girl would always have her thumb in her other palm. He thought her finger could've been resting on a scar similar to Damian's, if she was his wife of course. He decided to test his luck.

"Oh sorry, I forgot to introduce myself" he reached his hand over the table. "My name's Jon Kent" He watched as her eyes widened in recognition and how her heartbeat quickened. "I believe you're Marinette, right?"

Marinette's eyes developed a watery sheen. "Dami's talked about me?"

'Bingo!'

"He talks to me about you every chance he gets" Jon shook the hand Marinette offered and turned it so her palm faced the ceiling. On it was a scar more or less identical to he best friend's. "Whenever he got nervous, sad or overwhelmed, he'd always trace the scar on his hand. I can tell he's thinking of you whenever he does it"

Marinette let a few tears of joy run down her cheek before wiping them away. "S-sorry I'm not usually this emotional" she chuckled. "It's just- I didn't know how to contact Damian and even if I did, I probably couldn't bring myself to talk to him. I thought he hated me for leaving him alone at the League"

Jon snorted. "Him? Hate you? Please, he views you like your his entire world! He was afraid that you hated him! He's drowning in guilt for not being able to get you out of there."

The bluenette sniffed. "Really?" Jon nodded. "C-can I see him again?"

"I don't know where he is right now" Marinette deflated slightly at his words. "But you can definitely meet him! I feel selfish to ask but is it okay for you to wait two days?"

"I've waited many months, a few days is no problem. May I ask why?"

"Well you see his birthday is in a few days and I haven't been able to find him a good gift so... I thought having you two reunited would be a good present" Jon answered, the smile he received was almost blinding.

"That's so sweet of you!" Jon understood how Damian fell for this girl. If sunshine was a person, she would be it.

"So can I see this kwami of yours?" Marinette was confused at how he knew but then she realised that Damian must've told him everything, not that she didn't mind though. "I mean, see it properly?"

"X-ray vision, I should've known" the blue-eyed girl giggled when the boy blinked in surprise. She opened her purse and a red blob flew out. Though it was mostly hidden by Marinette's body, Jon could still see it clearly. He had to cover his mouth to avoid shouting in astonishment. "Jon this is Tikki, my kwami"

"Nice to meet you, son of Superman" Tikki squeaked and Jon's eyes widened in awe as he reached to touch the small creature.

"Wow, you're adorable!" The young boy cooed as the creature giggled.

Marinette wanted the two to interact more but one look at the time told her otherwise. She said goodbye to Damian's best friend and made her way to Wayne Enterprises.

~~~

Despite reading of all the good deeds, the French class were really getting under Dick's skin. First of all, a sausage-hair girl had nearly every student wrapped around her finger, telling stories that were way too good to be true. Secondly, the incompetent teacher didn't bother to control her students, she merely looked at her phone, waving off any students who had questions. And thirdly, they had arrived way too early. The only reasonable looking students that weren't crowding around the brunette were two blondes, one male and one female, and a short skater girl. The only emotions on their face were either anger, annoyance or anxiousness.

When the time for the tour to start was nearing, Dick asked for the teacher to do a headcount. He already knew how many were supposed to be there as he was given a specific amount of badges. There were fifteen in total, not including the teacher. From what he counted, there were only fourteen students, this was confirmed when the teacher's counting stopped at 'Quatorze'. Dick realised it was the class president that wasn't there, he started looking around the main lobby. What really pissed him off was the fact that no one seemed to care that she was left behind, in Gotham for God's sake!

"Have you found her?" A voice from behind Dick asked. It was the blonde boy. "Marinette?"

"No I haven't, the tour starts in seven minutes-" The man cut himself off when someone walked through the lobby doors. She looked to be part of the class. The young bluenette's hair seemed to be ruffled as if she was running for a long time. Dick took a closer look and she was indeed the girl from the file. Determining to know why she was last to arrive, he went to greet her. "Hello, my name is Dick Grayson and I'll be your class's tour guide today"

He didn't fail to notice how her eyes widened in recognition as she took his offered hand and shook it. "Hello Monsieur Dick, I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng though I suppose you already know..." her voice trailed off as her eyes lingered to somewhere else in the room before meeting back with his. "I'm really sorry about my lateness"

Dick held one hand to stop her from continuing. "It's fine, the tour starts in three minutes so you got here right on time" The eldest watched Marinette let out a sigh of relief. "I am curious, how come you were last to arrive?"

"Ah well the... bus left early because of something that came up and I wasn't aware of the changes so I got left behind" The bluenette noticed the older man's shocked and angered expression and blurted out, "But I'm here now!"

After some time he nodded and gave Marinette her badge. He then proceeded to gather the class and tell them all the rules and regulations. Soon the tour was under way.

~~~

"So how are the French class, Dildo?" Jason's snarky voice echoed in the manor as Dick entered. What they didn't expect was to be met with a seething Dick.

"Most of them are really horrible, the sausage hair and the glasses girl are the worst. They weren't bad to me though, only to the class president who is, actually, a literal angel" The eldest huffed. "They kept sliding in mean comments about her here and there, it was disgusting. The worst part is, she acts as if they do this regularly! You should've seen the way her eyes dulled as she got on the bus with that... that class!"

"That bad huh?" Jason asked.

The eldest son nodded. "Bruce is definitely gonna want to adopt her the moment he's in the same room as her"

Jason hummed. "I'd like to meet this girl your talking about, I'll ask B if I can join next tour as security. In the mean time, bet fifty I get the best gift for the Demon Brat"

Dick let out a overly exaggerated gasp of offense while laying a hand on his chest. "No way! I bet a hundred!"

~~~

The next day was the day of the next tour, Jason tagged along this time. Luckily, Marinette was on the bus when the class arrived but she wasn't looking too good.

"God, she looks exhausted and starved to death!" Jason muttered into Dick's ear. He nodded and walked over to greet the class.

"Welcome back to your second tour! Today, Jason"- Dick gestured towards the man with two-toned hair- "will be joining us today. As an extra security measure. Now, follow me please!" The eldest son began the tour with half-filled enthusiasm, this was Jason's queue to go to the back and interact with the class president.

The man stayed near the back, not making it obvious he was trying to start a conversation with the girl, when he heard the brunette at the front spewing lies. Jason hadn't spoken French in a while but he could still understand the language.

"You don't actually believe what she's saying do you?" Jason asked the young girl. She snorted in response.

"Of course not, only an idiot would believe the words that come out of her rotten excuse of a mouth. They aren't even that good" The older man laughed and the girl's eyes widened. "S-sorry! I don't usually think before I talk when I'm tired"

"No no, you have a point" Jason held his hand up, as much as he could considering her height compared to his own, to the small girl. "The name's Jason Todd"

The bluenette smiled and took his hand. "Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng..." Marinette trailed off on her last name, 'Is that not her last name? The files are always correct so maybe... she's not proud of her name?' "So what's the real reason why you joined the tour today?"

Jason was impressed as she expertly diverted the spotlight of the conversation onto himself. "For extra security"

Marinette gave the older man an unimpressed look. "I deal with that liar all the time, Jason" He blinked before the girl was smiling once more. "You can't lie to me Jay" she said in a sing-song voice.

The older man jokingly sighed and ruffled her hair. "Well since you asked so kindly, Dickhead over there-" he nodded his head in the direction of his older brother- "noticed how most of your classmates are treating you. That was probably the most pissed I've seen him in a long time. So I wanted to see which little lady was able to cause an overprotective spark in him, now I completely understand why he felt that way"

The girl then sniffed and smiled at Jason sadly. "I...Thank you" she whispered to the man with two-toned hair. "It's been a long time since someone other than my friends have said that they were worried about me"

Jason's smile faltered before it turned into a sad but encouraging one. "Hey, Dick and I are here if you ever need someone to talk to. Wait-" Jason's attention diverted to the blonde boy in the room, the one that was originally hanging out with the small girl. "Hey isn't that your friend?"

Marinette turned in the direction Jason was looking at, there was Lila who was on the arm of a very uncomfortable looking Adrien. The bluenette sighed. "Yeah he is. If you're wondering why he's with the liar is because of his father. You see, back in Paris he's quite famous so his father can be overbearing. I odn't know what the liar said to him but now he wants Adrien to keep the girl happy at all costs"

"Can't he just disobey the old man?"

"He did try but the punishment was for him to be home-schooled which he has been more or less his entire life. But I guess it's gotten better since before Adrien didn't want to call out her lies since he thought they weren't hurting anyone"

Jason scoffed. "Her lies definitely hurt those involved"

"Exactly, luckily he managed to realise that after he overheard one of Lie-la's confrontations. He tries his best to sugarcoat his words when he's calling her out but he still hates conflict. He's just with her so she doesn't turn into an akuma. Not that it's working since she's already been akumatized more than seven times"

"Sorry, akuma what-a?"

Marinette shot him a confused look before her eyes widened slightly in realisation. "I can explain at lunch"

Jason seemed hesitant but nodded anyway.

~~~

Marinette grabbed her food tray, narrowly avoided all the feet that tried to trip her up and sat at an empty lunch table.

"Hi, Mari!" Dick's cheerful voice made his presence known as he sat next to her, lunch tray in hand. "So has Jason been good?"

"Yeah! It's nice to have someone to talk to-"

She was interrupted by Jason slamming his lunch tray on the table, sitting opposite Marinette. "Alright Pixie Pop, explain what an Akuma Matata is"

"Pixie Pop?" The bluenette giggled.

"Akuma whata?" The eldest asked.

"Pixie Pop because you're small and feisty. As for the Akuma thing, Pixie will kindly explain right now" Jason replied, eager to know what an Akuma is.

"Well-"

"I did not have enough coffee for this" A new voice spoke up from behind Marinette. The person it belonged to sit next to Jason, coffee cup in hand and slammed his face on the table.

"That's Tim, our younger brother" Dick answered the bluenette's unasked question. Tim's head looked up as if he just registered that there was someone else on the table.

Her reached his hand across the table with as much energy as a sleep-deprived zombie could give. "Tim Drake"

"Marinette" she returned the hand shake. 'I'm right, these are Dami's brothers' "So like I was saying, an akuma is like a butterfly infused with magic. When it comes in contact with an inanimate object that is being touched by someone who's experiencing strong negative emotions, it turns them into an akuma villain. " She paused so that the men at the table could process what she was saying. "Hawkmoth is the one who sends the akumas, once the connection is made they have no choice but to obey. Even if they try to fight him off, they all succumb eventually."

"So a magic butterfly man, got it"

"When you put it that way, it doesn't sound believable" Marinette giggled at Jason's conclusion.

"What kind of negative emotions does it have to be? Are the Akumas... dangerous?" Dick asked, clearly more concerned that his younger brother.

The bluenette's eyes seemed to age at his statement. "Humiliation, depression, rejection, isolation, anything that makes you feel disheartened really. As for how dangerous there are well... there are different levels to classify each akuma"

All three gestured for her to continue.

"Some are low level, level one, like Mr Pidgeon-" She here's a scoff but continued as if she wasn't interrupted. "- he's a regular but relatively harmless. The highest level is an akuma like Syren" she shuddered at the memory, "Her powers allowed her to flood the entirety of Paris, drowning nearly half of the entire population"

"H-how did this not make international news" Tim asked, bringing his laptop out and furiously typing, though, receiving no results for what the girl just said.

"That would be courtesy of our heroes. One of Ladybug's powers is to heal anything damaged by the powers of the miraculous, she can fix objects, buildings and even resurrect those who died. She can't get rid of the memories unfortunately" She said the last part bitterly, disappointed in herself for not being able to help her citizens.

"What's a miraculous?" Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

"Magical jewelry basically, its what gives the heroes their powers. Its also what Hawkmoth wants, the Ladybug Miraculous and the Miraculous of the Black Cat" she put a finger on her chin to mimic thinking like a civilian. "My best guess is that if he gets the miraculous, he becomes very powerful"

"Have you ever, you know... died?" Dick asked, concern weighing heavily in his voice.

"No, I'm I guess one of the 'lucky few' to not have been killed yet."

They soon conversed in the topic of Hawkmoth and Mayura, each one of the men despised the villains at the end of her rant. All too soon, it was time to leave. She waved goodbye and rushed with her class back to the hotel. Once she reached her room, the bluenette rummaged through her suitcases, ignoring a confused Chloe. Once she found the outfit she wanted to wear, Marinette placed it onto her nightstand.

"I met Jon today"

"Whose he?" Chloe voiced her confusion.

"Jon is Damian's best friend" The bluenette reiterated. "He's bringing me with him to the manor so that we can see each other again"

"That's nice of him"

"To be honest, I think you and Jon would hit it off quite well"

Marinette stifled a giggle when she heard Chloe's signature 'Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous'. The bluenette fell onto her bed, she was going to get as much sleep as she could with her bubbling excitement.

~~~

The bluenette stared at her reflection. She wore a deep velvet, off-the-shoulder blouse with a black cotton skirt, her hair was tied up in an intricate design. Even with the compliments her two best friends kept showering her with, Marinette didn't feel ready. She would be meeting her husband after nearly a year long separation, of course she was a nervous wreck.

After some light encouragement from both Chloe and Adrien, Marinette went down the stairs to the lobby where Jon would be picking her up. It was delightful to see how far the boy was willing to go to make his best friend happy, it reminded Marinette of her friendship with Chloe, Adrien, Kagami and Luka. Upon reaching the lobby, she noticed the blue-eyed boy and briskly walked over.

"Hey Jon" she greeted the boy, he probably knew she was already there thanks to his powers.

"Hi Mari!- Wow! You look nice. I swear Dami's gonna fall for you all over again" Jon compliment made Marinette have an serge of pride. "Come on let's go! My father and Damian's family are waiting for me well, us really"

"Okay, how are we supposed to get there?" Marinette's question ignited a cheeky smile on the sunshine boy's face.

"Have you ever flown before?"

~~~

Clark Kent was at Wayne Manor, celebrating his best friend's son's birthday, who just also so happens to be best friends with his own son. 'That was too confusing for my own good'. He, along with Bruce and the others, have already given Damian his gifts. Jon insisted that he had the best present so he would go last.

"Since I'm his best friend, I have the best gift meaning that I should go last"

While waiting for his son to arrive, Mar'i gave Damian a piece of art that she made and he went up to his room to find a frame. In this moment, most of the occupants in the room turned to him.

"Have you heard Jon yet? I'd like to see what this 'present' is." Dick questioned first, Clark tilted his head but he didn't hear his son at all. He opened his mouth to answer before promptly closing it shut, Jon had just landed in the garden and was making his way inside, by them Damian and Mar'i had returned.

"Hello my very bestest friend! Happy happy birthday to you!" Jon tackled Damian in a hug before quickly pulling back as to not get pushed off. "It is time to present my gift to you!"

Damian's brothers perked up, they had bet on whether or not Jon was true to his present being the best, Dick voted for while Jason and Tim voted against.

"But no one other than Damian is allowed to see the present" Without seeing what their reaction to his statement was, Jon dragged Damian outside. The brothers huffed before running upstairs, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing and followed his sons onto the upper floor window with Clark close behind. Clark knew that Bruce was just as curious as his boys, he just hid it very well. When they made it to the window, they saw Jon telling Damian to sit on one of the garden's benches with his eyes closed.

"Is this really necessary?" They heard Damian's unamused voice. Upon hearing Jon's confirmation, Damian sighed and closed his eyes. The adults watched as Jon went off to somewhere out of their vision.

~~~

"Yep!"

Jon's voice echoed through the garden, hitting Marinette with the realisation that her and her husband would be reunited. A flurry of emotions dawned in her head. First nervousness, then excitement and finally, anticipation. She had gotten so caught up that she barely noticed the blue-eyed boy bounding up towards her. He gave her an encouraging smile before gesturing for the bluenette to follow him. Sensing her anxious hesitation, he gently took her wrist and pulled the girl towards the green-eyes boy, who was still sitting on the bench with his hands over his eyes.

'Here goes nothing'

~~~

He'd heard Jon's footsteps scurry away around a minute ago, he didn't know why but he tingled with anticipation when he heard his self-proclaimed best friend return. Though as soon as Damian heard the boy return, he immediately ran off to god knows where. But before the confusion settled in, he was hit with the familiar scent of vanilla and cherry blossoms, the scent he thought he'd never have the privilege to come across again. Damian's head shot up to face the beautiful bluenette he had the honor of calling his wife. The voice to whom the aroma belonged to spoke.

"You know, you really should've told me when your birthday was. I could've made you a gift..." Her voice, though barely above a whisper, was as loud as needed for Damian, her voice trailed off as the tears in her eyes built up.

Without at a moment's hesitation, the bluenette was soon spun in the air with the end result being engulfed in her husband's arms. "Having you in my arms again is the best gift I could have asked for"

Marinette couldn't hold back the tears of pure euphoria that rolled down her cheeks. Damian had noticed Jon spectating form the side, radiating excitement like a puppy, but he paid no attention to his self-proclaimed best friend. All that mattered was they were together once more.

The way fate had designed.

———

Bonus:

Dick: hang on he's coming back with, mARINETTE?!

Jason: WHaT?! How does the brat know her?!

Tim: what are they saying, Clark?

Clark: *smiling while wiping a fake tear of happiness* how sweet

Dick: im confused

*batfam (and clark)* run down the stairs and go outside to see Jon nearly combusting in joy*

Jon: *turns to the fam* told you I'd get the best gift

Jason: okay demon brat tell me how you know pixie pop!

Damian: *turns to face jason with an unimpressed look with mari snuggled under his chin* she's my wife

Batfam: *exe.batfamily has stopped working*

Dick: WHAT :D?!

Jason: WHAT THE FU-

Tim: WHAT

Bruce: *whispers* there goes the adoption papers

Bruce: well it's a pleasure to meet my daughter-in-law in person, but how did you end up getting married in the first place?

Damian and Marinette: *look at each other* Mother/ His mother

Bruce: *sighs*

Jason: okay let me go get my guns to murder that sausage-haired girl

Damian: todd no

Jason: *whips around, confused* wh-

Damian: i want to be the one to spill some Italian blood

Jason: *evilly grins*

Bruce and Marinette: nO KILLING-

#daminette #damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #marinette x damian #damianette #mlb x dc #ml x dc #Someone help my arms are dying #thEY HURT SO MUCH-

[hetamavi]

America’s Dishonesty

Credit goes to Hetarchive for translated content. America has issues with being honest with his feelings. Really big issues at that. 

America can read the atmosphere, he just chooses not to. His tactlessness is a choice and, unlike someone like England who is also dishonest but still transparent with his real feelings, America’s tactless act is more convincing and he rarely drops it. Even feeling like he had to express concern for England clearly annoyed him (and it was described as uncharacteristic for him to act concerned at all).

Because he’s not as transparent as someone like England and is even less willing than him to be honest about his feelings, he can sometimes do hurtful things and it’s probably harder to understand where you really stand with him. On two different occasions, his way of getting England to act more like himself involved him doing things that clearly hurt England’s feelings. Those moments were when he pretended to be happy England died so he’d wake back up (”The Long-Awaited Deep Emotion is Ruined”) and when he lied to England about remembering England’s pain from the Revolution fondly (”Happy Birthday!”). In the latter instance, England even looked like he was close to tears before America admitted he lied. This sort of behavior is maybe more understandable in the instance where England needed a shock (when he was trying to wake England back up), but otherwise, it’s a very unconventional way of comforting someone that gets around directly doing the “comforting” part.

And while it’s usually England we see on the receiving end of this behavior (probably because England puts in a lot of effort to be closer with him), it is not just him that America acts this way with. Another notable character who America is also very close with that gets this treatment is Canada.  America is aware of Canada’s insecurities, but doesn’t make any attempt to resolve the tension between himself and Canada. Instead, after catching Canada trying to have a stronger presence, he acts like his usual tactless self, makes a vague comment on Canada being fine the way he is, and only reflects on what he admires about Canada in comparison to himself when he’s alone. 

He’s also pretty passive aggressive. In one strip about his relationship with Russia, fittingly titled “What’s going on Behind Those Smiles...?!”, America and Russia insist their bad relationship is ancient history (even though the Cold War lasted until relatively pretty recently - ending in 1991 with the dissolvement of the USSR) only to follow up with a lot of stuff that contradicts that claim. First, Russia says he wanted to “squeeze and snap” America in the past and America, acting like his usual cheerful stuff, actually challenges him to give it a try. Russia then starts talking about all the reasons he hated America in the first place before admitting he still wants to smash America’s glasses into pieces. Then, he and America (who heard all of that) go back to cheerfully insisting their relationship isn’t that bad. 

To make things clear, this isn’t to say that everything we usually get from America (that being his cheerful personality) is an example of him being dishonest. In a lot of ways that would take too long to go through here, he’s actually unapologetically himself. But there’s some clear discomfort when it comes to things like affection, opening up about his insecurities, and directly addressing negativity - whether that negativity be from others or himself. 

Why?

I think there’s two potential reasons for why he’s written this way. One is a real life explanation. Some of America’s characteristics mirror behaviors of real Americans being polite.

Maybe the best example of this is the frequent smiling. In the United States, instead of smiling being an indication of genuine happy feelings, it’s often just the polite thing to do. There’s also the fact that even though that kind of friendliness has been normalized as the polite way to act, Americans don’t care for being touched and like personal space more than what you’d see in many other countries. 

It’s possible those cultural norms made Hima want America to have similar contradictory behavior. He’s friendly and cheerful to an overwhelming extent, but he keeps the people closest to him at a distance and he keeps up his happy-go-lucky attitude even when that’s not actually how he’s feeling. 

The reasoning in Hetalia itself likely comes from his colonial days and the Revolution that followed. He didn’t get to socialize a lot as a kid. His most significant relationship was with a mentor that lived across an ocean and was mostly not around. So it’s not surprising America is lacking in social skills like resolving conflicts and dealing with negative emotions towards and from others. Those aren’t things you can learn from burying yourself in books on politics. 

But why does it sometimes feel like he’s almost deliberately pushing other characters away in some instances? 

America probably is deliberately pushing those characters away. Again, his most significant relationship as a kid was with a distant mentor that, because of his own shortcomings with other people, was emotionally invested in his relationship with America to an overwhelming extent. And to say it ended poorly would be an understatement. Things got violent, his relationship with Canada soured as well, and many nights after the conflict were spent with no sleep and him worrying over how to fix things with England. America gave up a lot for Independence, including being able to rely on the two most important people in his life - nearly the only people in his life - as people that would be there for him. And throughout all of that, there was probably a point where his relationship with England seemed like it might be beyond repair. This kind of stuff leaves a lasting impact on a person, especially someone as young and inexperienced with people as America was.  Even though America wants the company and friendship of others, he’s handling things in a way that maximizes how comfortable and safe he feels in these relationships. He’ll pick England to dress up with for Halloween, but only if he can get England to think he was picked for an insignificant reason like being his first Twitter follower. This keeps a distance between the two that keeps America feeling safe from once again experiencing the pain he endured from prior experiences. But not being understood by even those closest to you is a very lonely experience and as a result, America finds himself in a tough position of trying to alleviate his loneliness with loud, attention-seeking behavior while never making much of an effort to deepen the friendships he has or even actively sabotaging the efforts of the other person who is trying.

#hetalia #aph america #hws america #aph england #hws england #aph canada #hws canada #aph russia #hws russia