#I think Cass telling him that would both feel like a gut punch and also piss him off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

batarangsoundsdumb · 3 years

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guess fucking what? my inbox is so fucking full right now i'm unloading all of this shit in one post.

For the 11th gotham memes: gothamites react to bruce being jacked in a tiktok he made with kids, like super yoked, ripped as hell

fucking hilarious thanks. i think i did it in one meme post, but i genuinely don't remember which one

i dunno which of the batfam would do this but one time i was sleeping over at a friends house and ended up on the floor bc the bed was so very small and i just stayed there because the rug was soft

that's a drunk jason move i don't know what to tell you

tim and jason are "i listen to pop punk" solidarity. whenever jason highjacks the batmobile theyll go on long ass car rides blaring mcr and paramore and then never talk about it again

as they should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tim: no jason it's my turn using the aux cord i gotta put on my jams jason: don't you dare put on weird shit tim: don't worry, you're gonna love this *plays fearless (taylor's version)

hear me out hear me out, red hood stans 🤝 nightwing stans t h i g h s

holy shit yes.

SNL au: Bruce breaks character when pretending to superman and says something like "I'm not superman! You've seen his gps!! It's from 2001!!!" @sabeanybabe

superman flies past the snl building the next day just to say 'actually it's from 2005, i'm not a heathen'

does your back hurt from carrying the batfam fandom

it hurts more from the exotic rock collection i keep in my backpack, but thanks for the concern.

I love your posts by why would you always leave the best parts in the tags?

as a treat for the people that check the tags ;) (and also because i'm committed to the short post aesthetic)

somehow your playlist was everything i never knew i needed. i mean it. this is my new favorite playlist.

and don't you dare get a new favourite playlist!

babe ur stoner tim playlist is exactly too perfect, earth is literally blessed by ur existence

babe thanks so much! i love my stoner tim playlist because it's just my usual playlist but people think it's an artistic choice that i put taylor swift and britney spears in there, when it's just what i unironically like listening to

JANDKSKDK BILLY RAY CYRUS ON THE STONER TIM PLAYLIST I LOVE IT IT

again it's not even an ironic choice, i know every single word and i genuinely like the song

The last chapter of Fundamentals of Casework has me crying at work. Thanks I love it @dudelookitsalesbian

oh babe, i'm sorry, but also, not sorry i love chapter 4 so much it's my lovechild with the 'mental illness' tag

soooo....stumbled on your tumblr by some stroke of fate??? read your DC fanfic first. which is PHENOMENAL btw. then found all the batmemes; the funniest thing EVER bc everyone forgets about regular old gothamites. kept scrolling and your blog pops up as recommended. clicked on the ao3 for shits and giggles and waddaya know?!?!? it's YOU!!! you're LEGEND!!!! ever seen that meme? it's a video of a cat that got into a baseball field and the two announcers get really invested in his escape attempt and start giving a play by play of the cat instead of the game. memeable moment: "GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!"

i seriously think about this ask every single day and it's so fucking funny to me that i've never seen the meme you're referencing, but i still find myself going 'GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!' whenever i see something funny. but wow i'm glad you liked this steaming pile of garbage

Fav dc character overall? And fav batfamily character?

don't ask me to pick between the loves of my life, but i can tell you i've cried about every single batfamily member and also wally west (my beloved)

What's your opinion on fans having a problem with batfam being "too big"? And some even claim that batfam is just "Bruce Alfred Dick Damian" and the rest of them are just "friends and allies" (source: reddit) Personally, I like batfam because of this reason but idk

stupid. a family can never be too big. i'm not that big a fan of like huge batfam stuff with everybody from every single universe, because as much as it's funny for bruce to have like 30 kids, it just feels a little too OOC for me.

This is the best tag I've seen involving the batfam, thanks for thinking of it

This is canon now @nctxrejects

lmao yeah i think at that point alfred has had to sit through like at least a dozen coming out talks and just has a pride flag collection in the attic that he pulls out whenever a kid comes out

idk why batfam hits different as compared to any other superhero family

bc it's found family and usually the other superhero families are almost all genetically related in one way or another

I don't know if you watch the umbrella academy but I saw your last post about batcest and saw the similarities. But the thing is (although I think it's weird) in TUA, they addressed it by saying "they were raised as weapons, not siblings" or something along those lines, which is simply not the case with batfam.

yeah i watched tua but i also thought it was ridiculous and they still treated each other as siblings so i didn't like the luthor/allison thing, and am glad they stopped doing that shit bc it fucking sucked.

Hot take: Batcest shippers are the same people who believe adopted siblings are not actual siblings

smoking hot take: batcest shippers are the people who watch 'my sister got stuck in the washing machine' porn

Duke was adopted by Bruce?

not technically no, but do i, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb, look like i care?

True story but I had to change my freaking name because it used to be "Damien" and most people would go "OH LIKE DAMIAN WAYNE" like please I'm just tryna live

true story, but i don't actually think of damian when i hear the name damian, literally the first thing that pops up is damian darkh like bruh what?

apparently dc comics company supported comic stores by giving out new titles and stuff during the beginning of the pandemic to help them run and I just think that's wholesome

ah yeah that's so fucking cool, still don't like dc, the company, because this world is a capitalist hellhole and we're all owned by warner brothers or disney with no in between.

ayo looking at tumblr head canons and finding out bruce is actually a terrible father is a punch in the gut

lmao yes, in like 50% of comics bruce is a terrible father and it gives me whiplash

oooh I just saw the jason todd vs winter soldier post and the real question is: batman vs iron man

while iron man has like hundreds of cases of armor, batman could throw out an emp and have the guy dropping out of the sky in 2 seconds.

dickfast = fastdick = quickdick = quickie

magnum hot take

hey bata(?) just thought I'd let you know I have copied the obnoxious emoji and Billy Ray post for use on simping men going forth

thank you 😘🌷 (@spacebarsidecar)

why would you do that to your followers???? i get why i did it, but why would you???

what is scarecrow made the nightwing funko pop himself, like those diy-ers that paint over other ones

oh god no, horrible take, horrible take, that's a disgusting thought oh no

I see your HC that Bruce and Oliver fucked and raise you this: Dick and Roy ALSO fucked

yes they did and it was a horrible moment for jason to find out dick has fucked both of his best friends

"at this rate bruce adds like 1 child to his family every decade or so" Duke is introduced in 2013, Damian as Damian, not as an unnamed child, in 2006. And he is already 14 years old, Robins rarely remain Robins after 16 😬 It looks like a new Robin and Batkid will appear in a couple of years

i mean i can't wait? but somebody will probably die first tho, we're due for another major character death. my money's on either cass or duke this time.

BRO you're so right all of your Bruce's ex headcanons are amazing but they aren't ships, that's kinda wild. Like I don't want any peeks into how their relationship was I just want to see everyone make fun of them

lmao YES it's just i love bruce being a slut, like good for him.

I am in love with your posts your honour thank you

omg thanks are we like,, gonna kiss now?

The justice league needs to have a meeting to discuss how many of their members/partners have slept with bruce. Because through a combination of cannon & fannon (if DC wasn’t homophobic) we have AT LEAST: 1) clark 2) lois 3) oliver 4) dinah 5) john

Thats not counting villains or random civilians @dudelookitsalesbian

yes yes yes, they'll have a yearly meeting about how many of their collective exes could be out for revenge and batman's list just keeps getting longer.

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

and what about it?

when steph's fighting livewire and she zaps her with lighting and nothing happens and then they both just. stand there awkwardly for a second and talk. yeah i couldn't stop laughing at that batgirl steph is the BEST

oh yeah that was fucking hilarious and i think it would be so cool and sexy of dc to give steph a little comic series,,, as a treat

Hi I absolutely adore all of yours "Bruce and Oliver very badly pretending they didn't fuck each other" memes

lmao i do too

I need you to know that “Bruce Wayne had frosted tips” is one of my favorite Bruce takes of all time it’s so galaxy brained. you’re right and you should say it

he also painted his hair blonde once when he was travelling and in conclusion, this is why he's being blackmailed by the gotham gazette.

you know my thing about gordon being branded as the only good cop in gotham is its a load of shit like arguably he's a good person and not working to screw people over or anything but the fact that he also works w. batman makes him a shit cop. like yea batman is better than the mob but its still illegal its still an abuse of power he just not making bank

babe, all cops are bad cops. (but yeah youre absolutely right, working with vigilantes makes you a shit cop, but also working against vigilantes just makes you an asshole cop yanno?)

ruh roh i think i’m about to add “so not yeehaw” every time i don’t like something

that's a very good vocabulary upgrade

somehow i feel like steph already knew. like babs obviously knew but i feel like bruce got high/drunk in front of steph and started telling his boarding school stories and steph was just like “oh you fucked up i’m never gonna forget this”

steph and bruce have weird uncle/rebellious niece dynamic and they just hang out sometimes and bruce will be like 'i once broke my arm when i tripped over a hedge when i was drunk so oliver drove me to the hospital on an electric scooter' and steph will just have to sit there with that knowledge in her head.

Hello I just wanted to tell you you are So right in all your steph opinions bc she is, in fact amazing and I think that's very sexy of you. Ps. Your Bruce/Oliver fic is hilarious

babe, thank you so much and yes steph is amazing and i love her and she deserves the world and she's the best member of the batfam hands down. also thanks

In Supersons we see a couple of kids that are implied to be Damian and Jon's children and the boy has laser eyes and can fly, so I asume he's not adopted. The girl, who calls Bruce grandpa, can also fly, btw. So it's canon (probably by accident) that Jon can have kids and he must have married one of Bruce's kids. (I'm hoping for Damian, mostly because any other of his children would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old.) @artemisa97

lmao that was probably an accident seeing as jon is a 17 year old superhero in the year 3000 (by the jonas brothers)

You know, I'm a die hard fan of your memes, but I gotta say one thing: if Gothamites actually took gas mask everywhere with them, then the Scarecrow would just be a weird dude in a weird costume, and not a villain oh so scary. DC really should just takes notes from you.

bold of you to assume there's no gothamite anti-maskers

How does it feel being the funniest person on this app?

horrible, next question.

I can't listen to Green Day or Billy Joel without thinking of your post about how Bruce got arrested at a Billy Joel concert @nightwings-kid

yeah that's your mistake, i on the other hand can't enjoy billy joel without thinking about the glee rendition of 'uptown girl'

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

superman: so what do you do in your free time? batman, thinking about the superman fanfiction he's writing on the batcomputer: i have no free time

bruce and oliver be like boyfriends to co-workers 401k (do the justice leagues get 401ks??? not that bruce and ollie would need them, but-)

lmao yes just 400 thousand words of bruce realising 'oh dip oliver is such a fucking dumbass' (also i don't know what a 401 k is but i assume they don't?)

Gothamites would totally boo superman as he saves Gotham while batman is out. @meenje

he's like 'okay think about that next time you want to be saved from an alien octopus'

I just took long break from dc comics and I come back to see ric grayson ??

i think it's very cool and sexy of dc to see dick and just think 'you know what? let's just give him a traumatic brain injury' and then didn't develop his character in any real way

SPEAKING OF RIC GRAYSON, gothamites making confused memes out of ric grayson is much needed

'dick grayson is my taxi driver? can anyone explain what the fuck happened he looks like an italian plumber?'

i hate to say it but batfam are def "marvel characters" in that sense they are characters who are human but become superheroes unlike most dc characters who are gods trying to be human maybe this is why I like batfam

fair enough

#this is only like half of it #but at least you can get like a few answers #yanno fuck it #bataranswers #ask #asks #anon

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achaoticeternal · 4 years

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THIS IS ME TRYING

AVENGERS X READER (tony stark x daughter!reader, platonic peter parker x reader) masterlist // taglist

Request: @big-galaxy-chaos “Hey so I see that you also need requests as much as I do 😚 so here is mine! So it's Peter x stark!reader angst. Where Tony is afraid of becoming like his father but in reality, he is worst than him. He favors Peter more than her. Even though she is smarter than her own father, and won tons of awards and shit. Tony doesn't realize what he lost until the reader is gone. Btw the relationship between the reader and Peter is platonic! Also, everyone is oblivious to how she is feeling. Just pure angst”

Summary: Dads and daughters are supposed to have a beautiful relationship. But you could never be the song he always wanted. Word Count: 2.5K A/N: Based on the song this is me trying by Taylor Swift. Reader and Peter are both 18+; takes place after Thanos and Tony lives. Warnings: Heavy angst, cursing, self destructive behaviors, mentions death

“Mr. Stark, I’ve been working on the chemical formula of my webbing and I’m pretty sure that I’ve completely perfected it,” Peter talked while walking with your father to the lab.

“That’s great because I’ve been working on your web-shooters. Now, they can shoot up to 200 yards in length and the error rate of them getting jammed is less than one percent.”

Tony rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder as they left the room together. Neither of them acknowledges you on the couch, reading another novel involving quantum physics. But you’re used to the cold shoulder your father has given you since he first met Peter Parker. You’re used to the way he’s turned you away all your life, justifying his choice by saying he’s protecting you.

You knew that he feared to become his father. Pepper explained that to you when you were a child and you couldn’t leave your room until Tony’s lady of the night let. Or as you and Pepper called it at the time “taking out the trash”.

Maybe that was when you became more interested in the mathematics and science you found in the book and the workshop over good ole bonding time with dear old dad. If he wanted to neglect the time and opportunity to raise you, you would at least make sure to put his money and name to good use for your own personal benefit. And in the back of your mind, you knew that part of you was doing this to earn the attention and love you desired from your father.

Tony just saw it as taking an early interest in your future. So he didn’t stop you when you preferred to sit with tutors over playdates, draw out designs for engines and inventions instead of scribbling in coloring books, or even reading through scientific theories over watching Disney movies. He didn’t think it was strange, because that’s what he did at your age. Hell, by the time you were 10 you had won three first-place national science fair ribbons, third place in the national spelling bee, and began developing a prototype to turn the emissions from cars back into breathable oxygen.

Everyone noticed your brain, and how much you had achieved now at 18 years old. You held 2 Bachelor’s in Mechanical Engineering and Organic Chemistry from MIT and a Master’s in Astrophysics from Georgia Tech. And you were now planning out when you wanted to go to Law school and earn your doctorate. But you were living at the compound now, taking a gap year.

When you went away for school, you learned from others how normal life was for everyone else. You met kids who were the first in their family to go to college or were looking for opportunities outside of the small towns they came from. When you came home from your second semester at MIT, you told Tony about all this and he created the September Foundation in order to fund the projects and inventions those kids were creating. It was another punch in the gut to you, because you realized that you would never be enough for Tony.

If you were enough, he would have passed the mantle of Iron Man onto someone else after he almost lost you and Pepper to the Mandarin. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have enlisted Peter to help him in his fight against Captain America. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have gone into space for a final fight. If you were enough, Morgan wouldn’t be in the other room watching cartoons. And if Tony acknowledged you, just even a little but, maybe you wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress him and the world.

“Ms. Stark, your package has arrived. Shall I send it over to the labs?” F.R.I.D.A.Y echoed into the room.

“No, send it over to my personal workshop. In fact, send all of TS-2008 to my personal workshop.”

“Of course, miss.”

“Oh, and F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Yes, miss?”

“Please stop referring to me as ‘Ms. Stark’, (Y/N) is fine.”

“Alright, CASS, reboot the system diagnostics and run test C-24,” you yawned as you asked your personal AI system. The personal AI system you built for yourself, bu yourself - no help from Tony at all.

“Systems are checked out, shall I launch the test?”

“Go for it,” you groaned and took to Advil for your poundingheadachee. It was now two in the morning after another long night of coding, calibrating, testing, and perfecting the project you’ve been working on the past two years.

When you were younger, you tried to replicate the Iron Man suit, but your father quickly discovered the helmet and nearly perfected arc reactor you’d created in his lab. He trashed all of it and told you never to attempt to create the suit again. He said you were better than that, that you had more potential than pretending to be a superhero. You realized as you grew older that he didn’t care if you were trying to become a hero or not; but that you were copying his work. His precious Iron Man that he took months to perfect only took a week for his child to solve.

Dear old dad couldn’t let you have things the easy way. So instead after SHIELD fell and Tony began working to finish wiping out HYDRA, you began working on your own original model suit. Now it was almost ready to showcase to the world.

“Test C-24:successful. Shall I continue to run diagnostics to watch the processing and reaction time of TS-2008?”

“Yes, CASS. Run virtual simulations L-29, O-400, and T-38. Let me know when the trials have finished running and whether or not they were successful or not.”

“Yes, Ms. (Y/N),”

You pushed away from your desk and left your workshop. Before you knew it, you were in the kitchen pouring yourself another cup of coffee. You had been through 3 pots already tonight and no one noticed. Guess that was the nice thing about being Tony’s kid. Everyone else acknowledge your accomplishments and paid no mind to your destructive tendencies. In fact, maybe you’d celebrate tonight and snag a bottle of champagne from the extravagant wine fridge next to the dishwasher. You’d done it plenty of nights before when you wanted to drown out and numb the pain in your heart.

“(Y/N)? Why are you awake? And why are you holding a bottle of champagne?”

Ah, Peter... of course he would be spending the weekend at the compound. It’s not likely he has a perfectly good and happy home back in Queens with a guardian who loves him very much and would give the world to him. Guess that’s something May and your Father.

“Hello, Perfect Parker”

“You know I’ve never understood why you call me that, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t make sense from your end of the looking glass.Why are you up?” You tried so hard not scowl or be too rude. Peter had tattled to TOny before about you having a ‘bad attitude’ towards him.

“I believe I asked you that first.”

“That you did, but if you want an answer out of me, you’ll have to answer first.”

“I couldn’t sleep. thought I would get myself a glass of water. You?”

“I’m getting wasted, just like all my potential,” You faked a smile and started peeling the gold wrapping off of the cork of the bottle.

“Don’t say that, everyone knows how talented and brilliant you are,” He sighed while grabbing himself a glass and walking over to the fridge, “You’re a Stark”

“Tell that to Dad, because you’ll always be more of a Stark than I’ll ever be,” You huffed as you pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer near you.

“That doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N), are you sure you haven’t been drinking already? Because you sound delirious. Maybe you should spend some time outside of your bedroom, maybe even get out of the compound. When was the last time you left to go somewhere?”

“Thanks for the concern Parker, but I’ve been able to hold my own for at least fifteen years now. And I know I don’t leave here a lot because I don’t have the opportunity too. If there’s a private event, either Pepper attends with Tony or Spider-man makes an appearance with Iron Man. I’m just surprised that there aren’t rumors across the media wondering ‘Is Spider-Man the lost of the Iron Man, Tony Stark?” You waved your hand in the air to match the dramatic tone.

“Haha, you’re so funny,” He took a sip out of your water, “People know you exist”

“Yeah, maybe if they do a quick Google shirt. But I’m not offended, I know that I just live in your shadow. But I’m used to it,” Your poured the alcohol into a glass and began to sip from it, relief flooding through you.

“Okay , I get it. You’re just in another one of your dramatic moods, maybe you should just go to bed before you say or do something stupid,” he took a step towards you.

“Don’t I always?”

“Always what?”

“Say or do something stupid?”

He halted and shook his head, “That’s not what I meant, (Y/N), I-”

“No, that’s exactly what you meant, Parker,” You brushed past him and stormed into the living room, “You don’t understand how lucky you are.”

He came stomping after you, “Oh, so you’re feeling brave, huh? Well you just sound like an idiot. I’m not just some lucky kid! I’ve lost my parents, my Uncle was killed in front of my face, and I disappeared from existence! The only people who care for me are Aunt May and Tony.”

You turned to face him, face completely red, tears threatening to spill, “Well at least you have Tony, because I don’t! I’ve just run around all my life trying to be perfect, be easy for him to deal with, live up to his and everybody's expectations! But I’m not good enough, I’ve never been good enough, and I’ll never be good enough. I’m just Tony Stark’s bastard child who built herself from the ground up without the slightest bit of help from her father!”

“(Y/N)...”

“No, don’t you ‘(Y/N)’ me. You’ve gotten everything you wanted from my father since day one. I never had that. You didn’t have to work to really make your own suite, you didn’t have to endure a lifetime of pain because of his arrogant ass, YOU didn’t have to wonder where Tony was on your graduation day for MIT - his alma mater - because he attended your fucking high school graduation instead!”

“What the hell is going on?” Tony yelled from the opposite end of the room. Pepper stood behind him and you could hear other door creaking open to here the events down the hall, “Not only are you two fighting in the living room and woke up half the compound, but you woke up Morgan and now she’s crying in her room because you two are screaming at each other.”

“Well boo-fucking-hoo, poor Morgan woke up in the middle of the night,” you mumbled to yourself.

“I just came to get a glass of water,” Peter attempted to defend himself.

And from Tony and Pepper’s angle, he did look to be more innocent. He had a glass of water in his hand and was completely cool. While you stood opposite of him; a bottle of booze in one had, dark circles under your eyes, a tear stained face, and looking to be in a mad frenzy.

“(Y/N), explain yourself,” Tony spoke sternly.

You took a deep breath in and wiped away fresh tears with your sleeve, “No, I don’t have to.”

“Excuse me,” your father marched across the room, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight but-”

“What’s gotten into me? Do you even listen to the bullshit that comes out of your mouth? No, of course you do, because you like listening to yourself talk more than you’ll listen to me. So talking to you is as fucking useless as talking to a deaf man!”

Peter and Tony now stood stunned at you and your sudden tantrum, but you knew it had been coming, you had always known. You knew one day you were going to explode, and it just happened to be tonight.

“I get it, I’m not precious Peter, or your beautiful Morgan. I’m just your bastard child from some broad you met on Malibu Beach. Even though I’m just a kid, I’ve always been your competition, a threat to you and your name. And even after every nearly life-ending event, I thought things would change - that you’d finally love me. But that never happened not even after Extremis infected not just Pepper’s body, but my own! And now I’m dying, I’m fucking dying, dad. I’m running out of time and trying to do everything I can. I go to school and get these diplomas and certificates to impress you. I invent and build thing to get your attention. I do it all because I still desire your validation and I’m running out of time,” you fall to your knees, everything becoming to much, “this is me trying, just like I have been all my life- but it’s still not enough.”

The room went silent. Only sobs echoed around the room as champagne poured out the bottle, staining the carpet. Neither Tony or Peter knew what to say or what to do. How could they begin to comfort the crying girl on the floor, or fix everything that ha occured over a lifetime.

Tony finally knelt down, “(Y/N), you know I never meant for any of this to happen, for you to ever feel like this. I’ve always been so scared of becoming your grandfather... I thought I was doing right by never pushing you, I guess it just never clicked.”

“Oh yeah, is that why you pushed me away and found Peter? And then when you realized you had messed up and forgot about your first daughter, you had another one in order to make things up?” You raised to head and shoulder up first, then finally rose back onto your two feet, “well congratulations, you’re worse than Howard Stark. And I hope you’re proud, Dad.”

With that, you left the living room. You couldn’t deal with in anymore that night, maybe ever again. Because when Tony came to check on you the next morning, you were missing. Only a note by your bedside remained as the only proof you had even lived in the room.

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

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animemangasoul · 4 years

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Who Are You?

Summery: A Wizard takes away Tim’s memories of his least important person. Unfortunately for Damian, that’s him.

He doesn’t remember him. Doesn’t remember the little kid with the pinched face and uncertain eyes. He looks at him and he feels... something, but it’s not enough so he doesn’t pursue it. Just gives the little guy a wide smile and asks him his name. He must be important, he thinks. If he lives with Bruce.

“Damian.” The words are spoken softly, hesitantly, but they are also firm, strong. Tim feels like if he had known him, he would have admired him for that.

Instead he smiles even wider and reaches out a hand. “Tim,” he says in return and something flashes in the kid’s eyes; the sharp gaze darting between his outstretched hand to his face and then back to his hand again. Tim frowns. Maybe they hadn’t gotten along back--

But the kid doesn’t give him a chance to retract his offer, darting forward almost in desperation as he lungs forward to sandwich Tim’s fingers between his own two hands. “Pleasure to meet you again Timothy,” he blurts out; cheeks turning beat red as he does. But Tim can only smile, because the sincerity behind the halting words are very evident.

He wonders if they’d gotten along well.

He wonders if they did, why had he forgotten him.

The least important person the wizard had said..... So why Damian?

The rest of them, his family were firmly lodged in his brain. He could remember their every laugh, their every hug, tears, smiles, love. Good, bad, ugly. He remembered it all. Bruce with his confidence and safety, Cass with her warm hug and kisses. Dick with his laughter and comfort. Jason with his honesty and wild personality. Duke with his brilliance and gentleness. Alfred with his Alfredness.

Remembering them wasn’t hard because the memories of them have never left him. So why Damian? Why him?

------------------

He wonders about it for the rest of the week. Especially when he hears the kid’s last name.

The little kid who skitters around the corners. The kid who doesn’t quite know how to laugh but his eyes would still manage to give him away every single time he found something funny.

The little Robin who must have inherited the mantle after him and carried it with dignity and respect that must have made Tim’s heart bloom with pride.

Damian Wayne.

His little brother.

His only little brother.

And yet..... He didn’t remember him.

Least important.

Why?

---------------

Dick finds him one morning standing in front of the family portrait. The hall is empty except for the two of them, and when Dick comes to a stop next to him, neither speaks for a long while.

Tim is busy examining the expressions on everyone’s faces. And Dick, well, Tim wasn’t quite sure what he was doing but he leaves him to it. Dick would talk when he felt like it and not a second earlier.

“If you can’t remember him, how do you remember Duke?”

The words are no louder than a whisper and Tim can feel the unease coming off of his older brother in waves, but he elects not to comment on it. Instead he shrugs and focuses his gaze on the little face of the forgotten kid standing regally next to Bruce.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know!”

Tim scoffs. “A wizard messed with my head Dick.”

His brother winces and Tim finds himself smiling at that. Damian and Dick were much alike. It was cute.

“Did we get along?”

“What?”

Sighing, Tim leans forward to press a light finger against Damian’s painted face. “Did we get along? Me and Damian?” Scrutinizing the stern gaze and the almost hunched shoulders of the kid, Tim wonders what he must have been afraid of in this frozen moment. “I’ve always wanted a little brother you know.”

Dick remains quiet for an inordinate amount of time.

His silence tells a full story, so when Dick finally musters up a casual. “Yes, but you were both just kids so you disagreed sometimes.” He hums in agreement and lets its slide.

Dick was lying to him but Tim did not elect to hold it against him.

Pretty little lies could make even the best of men tempted in telling them and whatever dynamic he and Damian currently held most be infinitely better for Dick than their previous shared history.

Still, ‘strike one Dick,’ he thinks as he turns around to make his way down to the kitchen, he was hungry after all. ‘Lying doesn’t suit you big brother.’

“Wait.”

Foot frozen midair, Tim drags his eyes up from the stairs and back to the silent figure by the portrait. Dick looks so very still.

“Yeah?”

One hand coming up to run through his hair, his older brother gives him a sheepish smile; eyes gleaming suspiciously but smile as sincere as ever.

“You got along better at the end. Damian he.... you guys weren’t.... you didn’t like each other in the beginning,” Dick pauses and there is pain there, in those words. Bitter pain. Protective, angry.

Something most have been stolen from him too Tim supposes. And it hurts more because Dick remembers. Whatever built relationship he and Damian had most have meant more to Dick than he was letting on.

Interesting.

“Thank you for telling me.” He leaves at that. Not without a second glance or thought.

Dick doesn’t follow him. Tim thinks that’s for the best.

----------------

“You hated him?”

Tim blinks in surprise. “Really?”

Kon nods. Eyes on the bright screen and tongue sticking out in concentration. “Yup.”

“Why?”

Kon curses loudly; leaning back and dragging the controller with him to avoid the upcoming wall. “I don’t know man,” he grits out. “You never got along and Dick used to pit you guys against each other or something. Choosing sides and shit.”

“Why?”

Shrugging, his best friend elects not to answer the question. “Beats me.”

Frowning in confusion, Tim nods slowly. “That’s super weird right? I mean, Dick wouldn’t do something like that. That’s not who he is. Or at least who I remember him to be.”

Kon shrugs again. “Never liked the guy so don’t ask me dude.”

Tim thinks about it for a second but then he too picks up his controller and Kon restarts the game. It really didn’t matter in the end, did it?

So what if he’d hated Damian in the beginning for some weird reason. The kid seemed pleasant enough last time he saw him so maybe he’d changed. Jason had managed it after all and well, Tim had frequently encountered and even befriended less than decent people before. So a little kid like Damian couldn’t be quite that bad right?

Maybe he needed to have a sit down and actually talk to him.

Talking to everyone else about how he was supposed to feel about Damian wasn’t really working after all. They most have had some form of relationship if the kid looked hurt when he didn’t remember him. It couldn’t have been all antagonistic, their relationship. And it couldn’t have been all that great either.

Maybe they’d reached a sort of an in between.

----------------

Finding the time to talk to Damian proves to be difficult. Not only is work literally drowning him in stress and gives him less free time than a man working three jobs but turns out Damian was avoiding him.

It becomes all too obvious when he turns a corner one day and is met with the startled gaze of the kid who then; unable to avoid him any other way, actually turns around abruptly and sprints away.

Tim is left standing there with an outreached hand and a mouth open for a yell that never leaves his lips.

After that, it becomes more and more difficult to pin the kid down. No matter what he does; waking up early, coming home an hour before his time, choosing to patrol with batman instead of alone, he can’t seem to get the kid to talk to him.

Somehow, that hurts.

Not in the normal sense of faint disappointment. Not in the way of feeling sad because a stranger elected to be rude to you, no. It was this gut punching pain that just wouldn’t go away.

He didn’t even know him, but it hurt. It really really hurt and Tim didn’t like that one bit.

Damian Wayne.

He needs to talk to him. Nothing was going to fix this otherwise. Even if he doesn’t remember him, he.....

“He’s hiding at my apartment ya know. That’s why you can’t find him.”

Tim practically jumps out of his skin. “What the hell Jay!”

His older brother grins. A savage sort of smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he barely seems to refrain from outright laughing at him.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Jason snorts. “And if you wanna catch the little brat you better go now.” And with that he disappears behind the roofline, leaving Tim to glare after him.

“Jerk.”

--------------------------

“Found you!”

This time it’s Damian’s turn to jump out of his skin and well, Tim would definitely be lying if he said he didn’t see why Jason loved doing it so much.

“What.... why are you here Drake?”

Landing soundlessly on the floor, Tim shuts the window behind him before shuffling over to where Damian is sitting, careful not to trigger another run. “I just want to talk.”

The little guy glares at him. A proper glare with death threats and all. Tim is mildly amused. “Won’t you give me five minutes? Please?”

Damian flinches. “I do not wish to speak with you Drake.” He sounds young and scared and..... Tim doesn’t quite understand how he could have ever hated this kid.

“I don’t remember you,” he says slowly, the words leaving his mouth easily enough, but somewhere deep down, at the very bottom of his soul he finds himself retching at the casualness with which he says them.

It doesn’t help that the kid can’t quite hide the brief flair of hurt that dances through his eyes.

Fuck.

“I already know that Drake,” he snaps, but Tim steps forward, waving his arms frantically. “I didn’t mean it like that ki—Damian!” Swallowing thickly, he tries to take a deep breath. “Look, I just..... I don’t remember you that’s true. But,” he carries on quickly preventing Damian from cutting him off. “I would like to remember you again and just...” here he gives a helpless shrug. “Wanna help me find the wizard who did this and make him change me back?”

Clearly that’s not what Damian had been expecting him to say, for his supposed little brother is standing on the other side of Jason’s living room, silently gaping at him.

Tim bites down on his tongue to stop himself from saying anything stupid that’ll ruin things. And then--

“Why?” Damian’s voice is angry and suspicious, but it’s also pained and confused and.... Tim just wants to hug him. No kid should ever look that forlorn, ever.

“I want my memories back and I want to remember you,” he answers instead, giving the kid his most winning smile.

“Why?”

Sighing, Tim drops the smile and gives the kid an almost helpless look, because..... what do you say to that? How can he possible explain the disparity between what he’s feeling and what he knows. That his mind might not recall the little kid in front of him, who looks so much like Bruce, but his heart does.

How can he just....

“I think you’re worth remembering,” he settles for in the end. “You might not have been part of my most important memories, but you were still important to me and that’s why the spell worked.” This time when he tries to smile, it comes out rather sad, a bit empty, slightly heartbroken. “We were getting there, weren’t we? Becoming brothers?”

Damian looks away and that tells him everything.

“Let me remember you.” Tim says, an almost plea breaking through his faked bravado.

This time when Damian looks back at him, it’s not fear or hurt or pain he sees, but a quiet sense of determination. It’s shaky and still uncertain, but it eases something within Tim. “So what do you say?” He asks again just to make sure.

The kid nods. “Very well Drake. You have yourself a deal.”

Tim grins and Damian, well Damian smiles just the tiniest bit and for the first time in days, Tim feels as if something broken in his heart has finally been put back together again.

It’ll work out in the end. Tim wouldn’t let it end any other way.

The End

@punjabj-ninja @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @river9noble

Anyone else who wants to be tagged please let me know. Or untagged either way :)

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batfam-rewrites · 4 years

Text

Batfam During Quarantine: Training Day

Thanks so much for the amount of love the last post got!I’m sorry it took me so long to post this next one, school and other stuff started to get in the way, so to make up for it I added a surprise arc at the end. I might start doing theses in chunks to save time and fill in any gaps where I don’t post as much because of school. Not so sure yet but it’s just an idea. I hope that if you read this you enjoyed it! I am going to try and post more frequently now that I’m almost caught up with my school work.

Damian: Good morning Tim! I made you breakfast.

Tim: What do you know? Why are you calling me Tim?

Cassandra: Plus three large hot cups of coffee.

Tim: What’s going on? Why are you guys acting so weird?

Cassandra: No reason. Just want to be nice.

Tim: Nope. That’s not it. What did you guys do.

Jason: Done making Tim’s bed! I’m off to steam his suit!

Tim: WHAT THE SHIT IS GOING ON???

Cassandra, Damian, and Jason: *in unison* We just want to be nice. *all three surround him in a big hug*

Tim: THIS IS SO WEIRD!

Dick: *walks into the breakfast room* Morning Tim! How’s it going?

Tim: NO! ALL OF YOU LEAVE ME ALONE! *storms out of the breakfast room*

Dick: What did you do to Tim?

Jason: We have no idea.

Damian: The dude is losing it.

Dick: *gets face to face with Cassandra* Cass, do you have something to say?

Cassandra: We woke up early and decided to be nice to Tim for no reason.

Dick: You guys are evil. Go have your fun.

All three run out of the room.

Jason: TIM LET US LOVE YOU!!!!!!

Daily Briefing

Dick: Hey, Babs doesn’t know your here. I don’t want her to get jealous or something so could you please join the zoom call from another room.

Helena: Sure, I understand, lover.

Dick: No, we aren’t going through that again.

Helena: I make no promises.

Tim: You know you’re going to be in deep shit when Barbara finds out, right?

Dick: I’m in deep shit anyway.

Tim: Very true.

Dick: *begins the zoom call* Hey everyone, so if you can’t tell, Huntress has arrived to help out. Now, to everyone at the manor I created a schedule for when to work out. They should be completed before patrol. For those of you at home, I trust that you made your own.

Barbara: Yep!

Kate: Please, I’ve been training much harder than most of you guys since I was 6.

Harper: Yeah, sorta did. Not able to do much because I’m not at the cave.

Dick: That actually leads me to my next point. Harper I made a schedule for you because Bruce, Alfred, Selina, and I found a way to have Cullen inside the mansion without him finding out who Batman really is. Cullen already knows the alter egos of Red Robin, Spoiler, Orphan, and Nightwing. Everyone else is a question mark, so we will allow you to enter the mansion. When Cullen is around, we all will have to restrain from talking about our vigilante work. Have everything ready by next week. Once you arrive you’ll have to quarantine in your room for two weeks.

Harper: Awesome!

Dick: Today there has actually been no crime in Gotham City, so far, so we’ll take a day off, but if something comes up, cases will be assigned as they normally are. So everyone, after training, feel free to relax but be ready in case something pops up.

Dick and Jason

Dick: *turns on his training playlist, first song being “Devil in I” from Slipknot*

Jason: You know what, if this is the kind of stuff you have on your playlist, I might actually enjoy training with you!

Dick: I have 357 songs on here.

Jason: Damn!

Dick: What did you expect, I listen to every genre!

Jason: Really! I should actually start listening whenever people talk.

Dick: Remember that next time Bruce yells at you for shooting someone.

Jason: I’m just saying, if I mistake someone’s knee cap for their head, is it really that bad?

Dick: *laughs* Yes!

The two stretch a bit before moving on to pommel horse.

Dick: Figured you’d want to get this out of the way first.

Jason: Fuck you!

Dick: Just think of the music, and not falling.

Jason: *goes for a loop on pommel horse and bangs his legs against the pommels and falls* AHHHHHHH!

Dick: Maybe I should take pommels off first?

Jason: That’s an option? Then yes, please do so!

Dick: *quickly takes of the pommels then goes for a magyar, a triple russian, flare, spindle, press handstand one and a half piro, and flawlessly sticks his dismount*

Jason: Show off.

Duke and Damian

Dick and Jason had been training for an hour and fifteen minutes before Duke and Damian walked in. After stretching, the two began to spar.

Dick: Duke! You made a mistake when choosing your partner.

Jason: Nah! My boy Duke will show Dami who’s the boss.

Duke: I honestly like my chances!

Damian: Good Thomas, your over confidence will be your doom!

The two begin to fight. Damian dives right for Duke, rolling out and uses his momentum to go for a front flip and kick Duke in the chest, however Duke evades Damian’s strike and trips him after Damian lands. Damian gets back up though, thrashing at Duke. Duke dodges each strike and finally jabs Damian in the gut a few times and kicks him in the chest. That would be the only fight out of the three they had that Duke won.

Afterwards, Dick began to teach him the basics on both high bar. Duke was able to catch on very quickly and by the end of his training on high bar he was learning how to do kips and flyaways. Dick and Duke also decided to tumble together so Duke could learn the basics and some advanced skills too.

Damian spent the rest of his time trying to out do Jason. When Jason was using 100 lb weights, Damian would use 120′s. When Jason ran 5 miles, Damian ran 6.

Jason: Dami, you’re going to be extremely sore. Take it easy.

Damian: Easy? *huff* Let me *huff* remind you that *huff* I was also trained *huff* by the League *huff* of Assassins. *runs to the garbage to throw up* I am superior *huff* than all of *huff* you in every way.

Jason: Okay bud. Well, I’m about to spar with Dick.

Damian: I’ll fight Grayson, too. *jogs up to Dick while moaning in pain* *huff* Fight me Grayson. *huff*

Dick: I’m not going to fight you. You look like you’ll pass out.

Damian: I’m *huff* fine.

Dick: Throw a punch at me like you normally would without groaning in pain.

Damian: *starts to punch but his fist his Dick like a soft tap* Ahhhhhh.

Dick: Go rest, take an ice bath, eat a lot of fruits, and drink a lot of water.

Damian: Okay, *huff* but only because *huff* you said so.

Dick and Jason then started to fight and after they concluded, Dick took the trash bag that Damian hurled in and tossed it out. An hour later Duke concluded his workout.

Cassandra and Julia

Cassandra: Woooo! Are you ready?

Julia: Your enthusiasm is a little bit concerning.

Cassandra: Yeah, but just deal with it.

Since she arrived to the mansion Julia has not let herself stop her routine. She has been training as much as she has been since her days in Britain's Special Reconnaissance Regiment. However as soon as she saw Cassandra doing freestanding handstand push-ups while doing an inverted crunch, she knew she had to up her game.

Cassandra just ignored the list Dick gave her for the most part and did the craziest exercises she could think of. When she started strength conditioning, she ran to the still rings and tried to do what she saw Dick doing once. She tried an azarian to an iron cross but immediately fell through the rings. it took her twenty minutes but she finally made it to the iron cross and rolled backwards into a planche. An hour later she finish conditioning and waited for Julia to finish so the two could spar.

Julia: Okay, you ready? *walking over from the treadmill*

Cassandra: More than ready! Lets do this! *she started bouncing on her toes like a boxer*

Cassandra won all three fights within a matter of minutes. Julia almost had a chance in the second one where Cassandra lost her balance, but she reacted too slow as Cassandra regained it and knocked Julia to the floor.

Selina and Helena

Selina focused more on her agility during her cardio workout than anything else. I mean, it’s definitely something that she takes pride in so why wouldn’t she?

Helena: Hey, can I ask you a question? *throwing punches toward Selina*

Selina: Sure! *dodges each strike, jumps off the wall, and dives over Helena’s head*

Helena: What’s the situation between Dick and Barbara? *grabs Selina’s torso and slams her body down*

Selina: Oof. *gets back up from the floor and sits down with Helena* Don’t think of it. Dick is all sad that he has to stay at the mansion without Barbara. I wouldn’t even try to approach Dick about the situation because he’ll act even more weird then when you arrived.

Helena: That explains this morning.

Selina: What happened?

Helena: I said hey and he replied with “Hey, what’s up, gir......friend, lady. Girl who is a friend and a lady. Saved it.” Then, just for fun, I pinched his ass and he jumped up and screamed.

Selina: You’re playing with fire, I don’t blame you for pinching his ass though.

Helena: Hold on, it gets better. After that I leaned towards him and he started leaning over the table and asked, what’s wrong lover. He then stepped to the side and said “Nothing, nothing.” and started walking backwards saying “coolcoolcool” until he reached the door.

Selina: Why bother messing with his head?

Helena: Because it’s fun. Plus I still feel like there is something there.

Selina: Very well. Now that you have that out of your system let’s head to the showers.

Helena: You won’t tell Dick, right?

Selina: What you just told me is between you and Dick. I will not interfere in any way.

Stephanie and Tim

Tim: *walks in tired as hell* Hey Steph. You ready?

Stephanie: Yeah!

Tim: Alright. Cool.

Both Stephanie and Tim go to do their separate training regimes. Tim however, being extremely tired started to move very slow during his workout. Halfway through his work out he stepped out to grab a five hour energy shot and started flying through his conditioning list that Dick made.

Tim: You ready to spar? *jumping around like a rabbit, then lands sideways, falling to the floor only to get back up*

Stephanie: *looking at Tim like he’s a crackhead* No, I think we should skip the sparring match today.

Tim: No, come on let’s go! *grabs Stephanie's wrist and drags her over to the sparring arena*

Stephanie: Tim your going to hurt yourself. Instead of sparring let’s take a nap.

Tim: Come on, sleeping is for people who have don’t have tragic backstories. Let’s fight!

Tim tries to throw a few quick jabs but Stephanie quickly sweeps Tim’s legs causing him to fall. Stephanie Runs forward pointing her fist at his throat.

Tim: Owww! That’s abuse! You abused myself! Why are you mean?!

Stephanie: Tim, when was the last time you slept?

Tim: Ummmmm........... Tuesday?

Stephanie: Okay, training is over, go let yourself rest.

Tim: Pffft. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.

Stephanie: Okay. *text Dick* Hey Dick, we have a code yellow.

Dick: *text back* On my way up.

Tim: You know I like to live by the words of the Beastie Boys anyway. No sleep ‘til Brooklyn, and because I have never been to Brooklyn, I am not obligated to sleep.

Stephanie: You have a problem!

Tim: No, *points his finger dramatically at Stephanie* you have a problem.

Dick: *walks in* Hey Tim, I have a case I want to work on with you.

Tim: *to Stephanie* See, now I can’t sleep.

Dick: We’ll take the Batmobile.

*3 hours later*

Dick: Okay, we just entered Brooklyn. Now go to sleep!

Tim: No fair, you tricked my brain.

Dick: SLEEEEEEEEP!

Tim: NO!

Dick: Why are you staying up all night?

Tim: Because, I don’t want anything to change! *starts sobbing*

Dick: It’s okay, you’re alright. *pulls over to the side of the road*

Tim: No I’m not. Everything is changing and I don’t want it to. I don’t want to fall out of my habits because what about when things get back to normal. Then we have to build those habits again, and what if while we are readjusting someone dies because we weren’t ready. Plus, there is so much stress with helping Bruce keep his company from falling, trying to finish my homework, training, and patrolling the nights where there is more activity.

Dick: *embraces Tim in his arms* Look change is going to happen whether we like it or not. It’s not what happens that shapes who we are but how we react to the changes that occur in our lives that do. The world is never going to be the same after this pandemic is over, so you could either adapt, or repeat your mistakes. It’s okay to not be okay. You are not alone, you have all of us at the mansion to talk to. Another thing that you have to keep in mind is that people are going to die. We both knew that the moment we signed up, and sometimes there is nothing we can do about it. All we can do is learn from what happened to stop it from happening again. You also need to get some sleep. I know you are under a lot of stress right now, not going to lie, but you have it worse than all of us right now, but how do you expect to save others if you won’t take care of yourself.

Tim: *starts calming down*

Dick: I’ll talk to Bruce tonight to see if he could cut you some slack. I’ll find a way to help out too now that we aren’t patrolling as much. Just make sure to take care of yourself.

Tim: Okay.

Dick: Smart, toit.

Tim: Stop it Peralta. *begins to laugh*

Dick: *laughs pretty hard* Now get some rest, I’ll wake you up when we get back to Gotham.

Tim: Okay. I guess.

Black Mask, Hush, Two-Face, and Jason Bard

The night was very silent as Roman Sionis looked upon Gotham from the building. It was quiet, empty, peaceful, and disturbing. Hush walked into the room, followed by Harvey Dent and Jason Bard.

Black Mask: Congratulations, you found your way here.

Jason Bard: You’re pretty easy to find when you want to be.

Black Mask: Or is it because no one else is on the street other then your snitches.

Jason Bard:......

Hush: You called us here. What do you want?

Black Mask: Look out at the city. Tell me what do you see.

The three men walk forward towards the window.

Two-Face: Fear.

Hush: Silence.

Jason Bard: Caution, and paranoia.

Black Mask: You are all correct, but you missed one thing.

Two-Face: Stop playing games! What do you want us to see?

Black Mask: Opportunity.

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bestworstcase · 3 years

Note

Considering how much you love the saporian au, I have a I guess alternative pitch to ask about. In Rapunzel's Return, if it was revealed that Cass was Saporian instead and still goes through with crossing the line in canon. So when Rapunzel and the gang gets home, do you think the Saporian invasion fight would've gone differently with this new information brought to light for her, especially since Varian is working with them now? Do you have any input on this?

why yes i do

so to start. let’s skip back to like august/september of 2019, which is when the tts hyperfixation kicked in but before s3 started to air. at this point in time my thinking was:

the separatists are definitely coming back in some capacity because the series made a point of putting their symbol on the book in RDO, signaling that andrew was not a one time deal.

there’s a press release that says raps will encounter an old enemy when she returns to corona and while it might be varian, my money is on the separatists.

cassandra encountered zhan tiri behind the door in the shell house and learned or saw something that soured her pretty hard on corona

i have been theorizing that cass is saporian since the first time i watched under raps, like, a year ago

i have also been theorizing that zhan tiri is saporian since she was introduced, mainly because it’s fun and it ties two great antagonists together

if cass IS saporian, and the separatists ARE the threat awaiting rapunzel in corona, these two things are probably going to end up intertwining down the line in s3.

sigh. [puts on my clown shoes]

a big part of the appeal of saporian!cass to my mind is that it gives cassandra an excellent reason, completely unrelated to rapunzel, to return to corona after she takes the moonstone. right? in my head, before s3 aired, my theory was kinda: zhan tiri got into her head and drew a connection between cassandra’s individual feelings of being neglected/overlooked/treated unfairly, and the systemic problem of saporians being oppressed/cast aside/treated unfairly.

and cass wants so badly to be a hero. she wants to be admired. she wants to be a protagonist, basically, and if cass is saporian that positions her perfectly to become the hero of the saporian separatist movement after she takes the moonstone. it fits so well!

so if, beyond just cass being saporian, this were the direction the series had gone with cass being saporian—and taking into account that this is a disney princess show and it is going to be pro-monarchy at the end of the day, and trying to stay within those bounds—i kind of imagine it playing out like this:

1) cass takes the moonstone and angrily lashes out at rapunzel, telling her about what zhan tiri told her in the HOYT (which boils down to ranting about how saporians in general and cass in particular are treated badly and she’s not going to take it anymore and this is my destiny, rapunzel). then she leaves, with CtL going exactly as it does in canon.

2) reeling, rapunzel returns home—only to find that it has been taken over by saporian separatists. talk about a punch in the gut! and then to make matters worse, varian is working with them. i think “rapunzel’s return” can still end with victory over the separatists in this version, but the separatists aren’t imprisoned at the end—they escape, swearing that it isn’t over. [the conflict itself plays out similarly, except for preference the separatists aren’t trying to glass corona, they’re just trying to stay in charge / drive team corona out. this allows for escalation later with zhan tiri and also doesn’t paint. people fighting back against their oppressors as pure evil,]

2a) varian and rapunzel still have their emotional conversation and sort-of apologies, but! varian doesn’t turn against the separatists yet, and when they escape, he goes with them. however, fundamentally their cause isn’t personal to him, and he’s now all conflicted because rapunzel doesn’t hate his guts like he’s been telling himself she must.

3) rapunzel frees quirin from the amber despite varian’s continuing betrayal, because it’s the right thing to do and also because she’s desperate for SOME sort of victory after all this. varian doesn’t find out about this until after his redemption.

4) the separatists continue to cause problems in B-plots throughout the first half of the season. someone (probably eugene?) tries to broach the subject of cass with rapunzel in the context of cass potentially joining the separatists and throwing the power of the moonstone behind their cause. rapunzel brushes this off on the grounds that no matter what cass is still her best friend. meanwhile we keep getting cass stingers, with cass struggling to control the rocks and zhan tiri helping her, except instead of driving her into rages at rapunzel, she’s focused on radicalizing cass to the separatist cause (although she does not spell this out at first).

5) BVA kicks off with zhan tiri dropping the bomb that she wants cass to join the separatists. cass is shocked (she knows how extreme and violent they are—and she’s not like that, is she? she hasn’t hurt anyone!), which triggers the burst of red rocks.

5a) in corona, the red rocks cause varian to have horrific visions of his father/all of corona trapped in amber, confronting him with his own guilt. he’s been sticking with the separatists mostly out of fear of being rejected if he tries to return to corona now—after all, rapunzel gave him another chance, and he threw it back in her face. but the visions are too much for him, and after he sees that they’re capable of petrifying people, he rushes straight to corona, sneaking in through the tunnels to warn rapunzel. she decides to trust him again, and they set off to the demanitus chamber to stop the red rocks a la canon.

5b) as varian and rapunzel emerge and see that their efforts paid off, rapunzel assures him that she’ll make sure everyone hears how he put himself in danger to warn them, and how he saved the day... and as varian is thanking her, he hears a very quiet “...son?” from behind them. he turns around, unable to believe his ears. it’s his dad. his dad is free. for a second he’s terrified this is some sort of lingering effect of the rocks but rapunzel explains that she found an incantation that she used to free quirin, and there is a BIG EMOTIONAL MOMENT as he reunites with his dad. because varian realizes quirin must know everything he did after his dad was trapped in the amber, and he’s so afraid his dad will be ashamed of him, but quirin is just like. no, son, you may have gone to a very dark place but you found your way back all by yourself, and you did the right thing, and i’m so proud of you. tears, and so on.

5c) BVA ends with cassandra and zhan tiri, rather than eugene and rapunzel, debriefing. cass reveals that she felt rapunzel’s fear of her during their moment of connection, and she is upset because even though cass hasn’t done anything, rapunzel seems to see cass as just as violent and dangerous as the separatists are, perhaps even moreso. and zhan tiri comes in with “they’ve already written you off as a monster” and “what do you think forced the separatists to such extremes? they tried to be reasonable, and they were persecuted just as you have been” and “really, what do you have to lose?”

6) and that is how cass gets on board with zhan tiri’s joining the separatists plan. [if cass doesn’t already know at this point, i think this would be the part where zhan tiri mentions that she’s saporian, too]

7) then we hit pascal’s dragon, and this is the episode where rapunzel starts really considering what cass being saporian means, basically using LBB as a proxy for working out her feelings about cass and ultimately coming to a sort of hopeful conclusion that maybe... cass being saporian is important to her and maybe—just like the enraged dragons that destroyed nigel’s village—the separatists have valid reasons for their anger... but also that a peaceful resolution can be reached if rapunzel doesn’t let fear consume her.

8) islands apart, then, becomes a little more focused on rapunzel trying to get the whole story out of the captain; how did he end up with a saporian kid, what do the separatists want beyond blowing corona up [he’s the captain of the guard, he must have dossiers on these people], and most importantly, what options are there for compromise? fresh off her own commitment to meet cass halfway, the conflict between rapunzel and the captain vis a vis fountain cass can also be nice and sharp.

9) in cassandra’s revenge!!! we just scrap the entire eugene surprise birthday proposal subplot. the first half of the episode is cass cruising into the separatist camp in the woods with the moonstone and ghost!ziti. she and andrew are immediately at each others throats because both of them want to be in charge but cass ends up winning by dint of a) having a magical rock with enormous destructive power at her disposal, and b) having a clear plan. she steals the scroll to distract everyone while the separatists in to steal [insert magical saporian artifact macguffin here] from the palace vaults, with the intention of using it to free zhan tiri.

10) cass’s part of CR goes very similarly to how it does in canon: team corona turns up to rescue varian, rapunzel tries to talk to cass about finding a viable compromise on the saporian issue, and cass, not wanting to hear it, goes berserk and attacks her. partly this is venting her very real personal anger at rapunzel (i like the idea of rapunzel reaching for her burnt hand being the thing that sets her off) and partly she’s just furious because rapunzel still doesn’t really get it. “nobody has to get hurt? saporians have already gotten hurt! i have already gotten hurt!” <- that kind of thing

10a) also!!! a “nothing left to lose” where varian is saying “i worked with the separatists and it wasn’t worth it!” and cass is saying “don’t you get it? i’m not like you, i don’t have other options, i’m saporian” would be sooooo goooood

11) in any case cass gets yeeted off the tower and injured, as in canon. team corona leaves. the separatists come back, find the tower in ruins and cassandra crawling back up from her ledge. they help her up, treat her injuries, and then reveal the bad news: the macguffin they were after, the one they need to free zhan tiri? it’s gone. corona sent it to the keeper of the spire for safe keeping.

12) race to the spire! is about cass and the separatists trying to retrieve the macguffin from the spire. and it is also about an extremely shaken rapunzel talking to xavier about all of this, realizing what the separatists were probably after when they broke in, freaking out (cass joining the separatists is one thing, but bringing zhan tiri back?!) and reluctantly turning to edmund and adira for help... because she thinks she knows where cass is going to go next.

12a) cue crazy cass + separatists + ghost ziti vs team corona + brotherhood battle at the spire. with all the canon insanity of the weird ass artifacts getting thrown into the mix. cass and the separatists win, possibly because ghost ziti advices cass to grab and threaten calliope to force rapunzel to cooperate and cass does it.

13) TOTS is now the freeing zhan tiri episode. and the gothel disciple backstory episode. because turns out! none of them really know how to do the actual jailbreak with the macguffin, so... they need gothel’s old research, from when she and the other disciples used the same artifact to free zhan tiri last time. rapunzel is in the cottage with a similar idea: she’s trying to learn more about the sundrop and its connection to the moonstone. loredumps, idk. maybe all this takes place in the ruins of the tower instead; i like the idea of gothel having a creepy little laboratory in the cellar or something.

14) rapunzel pleads with cass to think about what she’s doing. the separatists have a point—does zhan tiri? what is zhan tiri after, what’s her agenda, what is she, even? and it nearly works, she nearly gets through to cassandra, but then... cap shows up, and cass does not react well. cap is there to try to apologize for their last altercation, but she does NOT want to hear it and the whole situation escalates. team corona gets driven out of the valley, cass and the separatists do the ritual to release zhan tiri and wow things are really bad now aren’t they!!!

15) flynnposter... idk. cap recuses himself from the whole fighting cassandra thing because he cannot handle it and because everyone agrees he’ll be more effective at getting through to cass if he’s not showing up in the captain’s uniform, eugene gets put in charge... and zhan tiri is out to cause problems. i just think she should get an episode of zany hijinks all to herself. she deserves it. to keep the plot relevancy going let’s say she’s impersonating eugene-as-flynn because a) it’s funny and b) it masks her real agenda, which is, let’s say, wiping corona off the map, stealing the sundrop, and using it to plant/grow a new great tree on the ruins of the city. seems like a fitting vengeance against both demanitus (for banishing her) and rapunzel (for destroying the great tree), yes?

16) once a handmaiden. with zhan tiri now fully out and about cass has been sort of demoted to second in command and she is struggling with that, because it’s making the inferiority complex bubble up and bringing with it doubts that this is really the right thing to do, or even really what she wants. she slips away to clear her head, perhaps even using the cloak to disguise herself so she can wander around corona... and finds the nasty little magical traps zhan tiri planted earlier. she realizes that whatever zhan tiri has planned for the eclipse, it’s a lot worse than she’s letting on. (maybe some of this is connected to gothel’s research: gothel wanted to retrieve the sundrop from rapunzel, and cass recognizes ritual prep for that from gothel’s notes and is like. oh no.)

17) so... at a loss for what to do, she impulsively goes to rapunzel to try to... warn her? apologize? take her up on that offer to negotiate? cass is really not sure, and seeing herself in wanted posters and of course demonized in feldspar’s play does not. help. this part of the episode can go pretty similarly to canon, except that when cass is confronted by zhan tiri it’s a lot more cutting, with zhan tiri focusing how even now she feels like she needs to serve rapunzel at cost to herself, needling her about her lack of conviction etc etc, in addition to goading her with the news about project obsidian. cass angrily rejects her and goes to talk to rapunzel, publicly reveals herself on purpose because a) sometimes she’s not smart and b) striding onto the stage in the second act of feldspar’s terrible play to tell everyone in the audience that corona is in grave danger really seems like a good idea at the time and ziti is lying about project obsidian so everything will be fine right!!!!

18) everything is not fine

19) cass gets shot in the back with project obsidian courtesy of panicking guards and a teeny tiny bit of help from zhan tiri and, crushed by the realization that rapunzel must have authorized this, cass does the “no you know what? fuck you, i see all that talk about negotiation was just pretty words after all” thing and wrecks the place, while zhan tiri stands by watching like >:)

20) PLUS EST EN VOUS. im sorry anon this has gotten way longer than i thought it would. but i am Passionate About Saporian Cass. the situation is now dire! everyone in corona is hunkered down in old corona, frantically trying to draw up battle plans or like, any plans at all. corona itself is in ruins. it really looks like cass/the separatists have won... but rapunzel keeps thinking about how cass tried to warn them of some greater danger. she can’t give up on cass just yet.

21) so, desperate, rapunzel turns to the separatists. she takes... varian, because he knows them, and lance because he’s good at talking to people, and eugene, because she needs him with her. and she walks into the separatist camp and says look, i know that ultimately what you want is for saporia to be free to be its own country. that you only took over corona and tried to destroy it because you thought you had no other choice. and maybe under my dad’s rule, that was true. but i’m the queen now, and i can accept a declaration of saporian independence if i want to. so i’m going to do that right now, no strings attached. saporia is free.

22) and the saporians are like holy fucking shit

23) what brought this on???

24) rapunzel is like cassandra is my best friend. and i didn’t treat her well, and i made her feel like she couldn’t talk to me about how she was hurting, so she did all this. she’s angry and she’s right to be angry, but more importantly, she’s hurting and scared. and i want to make it right. and also i’m terrified that zhan tiri is going to hurt her, because she said something about zhan tiri going after the drops?

25) and like the best she’s hoping for here is for the separatists to drop out of the conflict and go build their kingdom back up again, but they huddle up and decide that a) cassandra is their friend / one of theirs, and if she’s in danger they’re gonna side with her over zhan tiri, and b) if they team up with rapunzel now and it turns out rapunzel was lying and this was all some elaborate set up to attack cass while she’s without allies, then they will be there to help cass hold the line

26) there are ABSOLUTELY NO MONKEY SHENANIGANS

27) cass sort of miserably is going along with zhan tiri’s plans but she’s also just kinda hoping rapunzel doesn’t show up for the eclipse.

28) rapunzel shows up for the eclipse with a bunch of separatists and cass is like rapunzel what the fuck

29) there is...an attempt by rapunzel/cass/the separatists to get everyone’s story straight which is interrupted by zhan tiri doing the “traitors to saporia pay with their lives” thing and just. going ballistic on the separatists and cass. and also rapunzel, except she needs rapunzel to not be smushed like a bug until after she retrieves the sundrop so she’s a little gentler.

30) cass and rapunzel team up to protect the separatists: with both of them using the full power of the drops, they can hold their own against zhan tiri (she is VERY POWERFUL and she PROVES IT during this fight by going toe to toe with both of them without breaking a sweat)... but things go from bad to worse when the eclipse hits, because the sundrop goes dormant, and zhan tiri pounces. gets the sundrop, and now it’s just cass trying to solo this demonic sorceress lady before the eclipse ends and zhan tiri gains the power of the sundrop. It Is Not Looking Great For Our Heroes.

31) zhan tiri stomps cass into the curb and is about to land the killing blow when the rest of the coronans + the brotherhood charge in (they were waiting on the mainland on rapunzel’s orders, not wanting to escalate the situation if it could be solved via talking, but it is now very obvious that rapunzel needs back up). zhan tiri deals with them pretty handily too, but her distraction is enough for rapunzel to shake off her depowered exhaustion/pain and help cass back to her feet.

32) raps, cass says, i’m so sorry. i never meant for any of this to happen, i just—

33) and rapunzel says, i know, it’s okay. i’m sorry too, for taking you for granted. i love you.

34) cass, tearing up, is like, i love you too. and i’m gonna stop this.

35) rapunzel is like ??? but there’s no more time because zhan tiri has finished smashing/immobilizing everyone else and cass is already charging at her, no longer trying to attack or defend, just get close enough.

36) as the eclipse comes to an end and the sundrop wakes up again, cass latches onto ziti, grabs the sundrop. and slams it against the moonstone still embedded in her chest. there’s a huge explosion, and when the dust clears... cass is in the epicenter, very dead, and there’s really nothing left of zhan tiri but a bunch of spasming vines and shadowy magic, burning slowly away in the brilliant light of the unified power. everyone else is pretty damn battered too.

37) horrified, rapunzel crawls out of the wreckage, grabs the unified drop. revives/heals everybody (except zhan tiri, rip), ending pretty much goes as it does in canon. except i like the idea of the epilogue / ending sequence of life after happily ever after (reprise) also being a montage of both corona and saporia being rebuilt, the countries now equals and allies... and also cass, when she leaves, is explicitly going out in search of saporians whose ancestors were displaced by the conquest, both to invite them to return to their ancestral home if they so choose and also to reconnect with her own heritage.

38) THE END!!!

#rta #W H E W ANON i got. i got carried away lKFLJKSDFJKLSDKJLF #anyway this is basically 'how i'd do s3 but saporian cass while trying to #color in the lines canon gave us and staying within the bounds of what feels plausible for a disney show'#Anonymous

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littlemisslol-fic · 3 years

Note

Say... Eugene didn't find Varian yet in Alone We have no Future? 👀

Ohohoh fun! I’m assuming you mean a branch off the main story after Eugene got a funky new hole in the shoulder (haha rip), but if I’m misinterpreting the question let me know and I’ll write another one!

Also this got SUPER LONG so I’m very sorry! I’ll toss it under a cut lol, I just have a lot of thoughts I guess!

The Fic in question, for reference

1. Though I never really got into it in the fic (since it’s so short, didn’t really want to bloat it with a lot of objectively useless information) I always thought of the “politics” of Alone as one great big glorified gang war that crosses the entire area. There’s allies, rivalries, blood feuds, all that. it’s a delicate balance, where too much upset could spark a war. It’s part of why the Saporians were so sneaky the first time as opposed to just attacking, they couldn’t afford to outwardly cross Corona. Unfortunately, that’s a two way street, and Rapunzel is bound by the same conventions- even if she knows they did what they did, according to Saporia’s allies she would be attacking for no reason.

As long as Varian’s in their territory, he’s effectively on his own.

2. Andrew, for all his wanton cruelty, knows better than to break his toys. To him, in this universe at least, Varian is more valuable alive. In the wake of Fitzherbert getting shot, Varian’s been nearly docile- who knew all it took was a little murder to get him to finally shut up. Of course, they both think Eugene’s a corpse on the side of the road at this point, so Andrew’s content to go back to where they’d been before.

The Saporian base is the hallowed out shell of a series of old apartment complexes. The first time they’d brought Varian to the building they’d been prepared. I always imagined that essentially they’d gutted the basement level of one of the interior buildings, leaving tiny windows, concrete floors and walls, and to add the cherry on top, they’d remove the stairs, turning it into a concrete pit.

Poor Varian only just managed to escape the first time by slowly eating less food over the course of months until he was finally able to worm his way up an unprotected HVAC vent, one the Saporians had thought was too small for even him.

When they throw him back down there, it‘s been nailed shut.

3. Varian spends the first few days nearly catatonic. He doesn’t eat, barely sleeps; all he can see is Eugene’s body flat on the concrete and red, red, red, red-

Andrew eventually grows impatient with him.

Even though Varian’s important alive, it doesn’t make him invulnerable. Andrew’s already a well practiced hand at making the kid pull his weight. He doesn’t pull his punches, verbal or otherwise. Varian tries to be quiet with each blow, biting his cheek until he tastes blood, but at one point Andrew brings up Eugene again. He’s dead because of you, Andrew tells him, you chose to try and escape, and he was stupid enough to fall for your lie.

When Varian’s sufficiently cowed, Andrew leaves him a ballpoint pen, a stack of paper, and a list of inventions he wants blueprinted. Varian’s familiar with this, watching as Andrew scales a rope ladder to the upper levels and pulls it up after him. Something in him cracks, espeically when Andrew glares down at him with a final order.

Get to work.

4. Even if they hadn’t lucked out like they did in the original fic, of course Eugene and the ladies are going after their boy. Before politics had forced their hand, but with Eugene at least there were three people who could sneak into the Saporian base. Two just wouldn’t cut it, but three-

Well, three might just work.

They’re forced to be much sneakier than they had been in the original fic. Instead of fire and chaos, they work quietly to dispatch as many Saporians as they can. It’s a moonless night, clouded and dark. It’s an advantage they sorely need. Rapunzel works with her frying pan, so her victims are probably still alive... but Eugene and Cassandra have no qualms about staining the evening ruby red. Andrew goes down without a sound, his throat slit with deadly accuracy. Eugene can’t even find satisfaction in it, it’s too clean, too painless.

But it will have to do.

5. When they find Varian, the kid’s absolutely miserable looking. Cass kicks the rope ladder down into his little pit, but Rapunzel foregoes it entirely. She jumps from the ledge, landing hard and nearly stumbling in her rush to get to him. She sobs, bundling him close to her and rocking him back and forth. Varian clings to her, hiding his face in her shoulder as he cries.

Eugene stands nearby, feeling awkward. Feeling guilty. He hadn’t been able to protect the kid, hadn’t been able to stop Andrew- hell, Varian had ended up back here because Eugene had gotten shot in the first place. He’s still convinced that he needs to rip the band-aid off, so to speak, that he should leave Varian behind in the arms of his sister where he can grow into his own person without a dark, wandering shadow behind him.

But all of that disappears the second the kid looks at him.

Varian leaves Rapunzel’s hug, throwing himself at Eugene without preamble. He catches the kid, hugging tight, unable to stop himself.

“Hey, kid,” he says. Eugene’s eyes burn, his teeth grit against the tears. “You’re okay,” he tells Varian, even as the kid sniffles and clings to his jacket.

“You’re okay.”

OOP OKAY SORRY THAT WAS REALLY LONG LMAO I always love a good what if, even for my own stories! Thank you for the ask, anon!! 💕💕

Send me an AU, and I’ll come back with 5 points about it!

#asks #alone we have no future #varian

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ladyanput · 4 years

Text

Seeing Green Ch.8

Marinette didn't sleep well after Damian left. As she sat in her hotel room; blinds closed and window locked, she just couldn't sleep, couldn't force out the mental image of Chat Noir and his nightly activities.

Had he done that back in Paris too? Was that why he visited her balcony so often?

"Tikki…" Marinette closed her eyes tightly, feeling the bile rise up her throat as the emotions rolled through her in waves. After a few shuddery breaths, she turned to look at the kwami. "Tikki, I need to take away Chat Noir's ring. He's not my partner anymore, he doesn't remind me of my kitty anymore. He's… he's a monster now."

"He was probably tainted by the Black Cat miraculous, that's probably why he's been acting like this." Tikki murmured, her antennae visibly drooping as she left her usual cookie untouched. She just wasn't feeling hungry tonight.

"What do you mean?" Marinette's eyes narrowed a fraction as she took in Tikki's words. She reached out, laying a gentle finger on Tikki's head, gently petting her. "What do you mean?"

The nervous look Tikki gave her set off alarm bells in Marinette's head.

" Marinette… You are a perfect Ladybug, because you are a true Ladybug. Your entire life, your entire being breathes creation. You are perfect to hold the Miraculous. But Chat Noir… He is not a true black cat, there was no true black cat in all of Paris. But Master Fu knew that if he gave out the Ladybug miraculous, the Black Cat miraculous would have to be as well, or there would be a great imbalance of power. So since he isn't the true Black Cat, the miraculous slowly gave him negative effects. I'm sorry, Marinette, I didn't think things would get this bad."

"Why wasn't I ever told?" Marinette pulled back, on her feet in an instant. Hot tears flooded her eyes as she began shivering once again. "I understand why at first, but I'm the Guardian now, Tikki, I can't be kept in the dark like that! For the past three years, you didn't think to tell me?"

"I'm sorry!" Tikki felt herself tear up too, seeing the hurt in the young Guardian's eyes. "Please, Marinette, I wanted to tell you, but Hawkmoth wasn't defeated yet and I didn't want things to get complicated because of that and us end up losing! I just miss Duusu and Nooroo so much!"

Marinette watched helplessly as Tikki began to cry. She wanted to be angry because she knew that if Chat Noir had had his Miraculous taken away before now, then maybe he wouldn't have become so horrible. But she pulled Tikki into a gentle hug, trying to soothe her. When one thought they lost their friend forever, only to find they were alive, but under the control of some horrible people, you'd do anything to get them back.

"I'm sorry for snapping, Tikki… I will get them back, I promise. I don't blame you, nor do I blame Plagg for what happened. I know Paris really needed us." Marinette whispered, curling up on her bed, both of them allowing themselves a good cry.

When six am came, Marinette got up and ready for the day on only three hours of sleep. She texted Alix and the others, as well as Eva. A nice early breakfast would be nice, before the rest of the class got up and bothered them. She clenched her eyes shut, dreading the jeering of Alya and Lila. Why did it hurt so much? Why must everything hurt so much? Why couldn’t she just ever be happy?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at her door. With a tired sigh, Marinette grabbed her winter jacket and her purse, then opened the door. The sight of Adrien Agreste greeted her as he gave her a smile.

“Good morning, Marinette!” His grin widened, and he held out a cup of coffee towards her, taking a sip from his own cup. “I got you coffee.”

Marinette frowned, eyeing her former crush carefully. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway, raising a brow.

“What do you want, Adrien?”

“...” Something flickered in his green eyes before he looked down, appearing shamefaced. He shuffled his feet carefully, before letting out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Marinette. I had a talk with Miss Bourbon last night and she helped me realize that I was never a really good friend. I was an enabler for Lila’s behaviour and I should have stuck up for you.”

“Adrien-” Marinette reached out for him, but the young model quickly pulled back.

“No! I was horrible, Marinette. You see.. My father, he always made sure I was quiet, I made to never cause conflict because that would be an inconvenience, a mark on the Agreste name. My father groomed me to be this perfect, quiet robot and I let that make me a bad friend.” Adrien teared up and sniffled. Marinette, despite herself, felt her heart melt a little. She reached out and pulled him into a tight hug, letting him cry into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mari, I am so, so sorry..”

Marinette was quiet for awhile until she pulled away. Those red rimmed green eyes of his made the guilt in her gut squirm. She offered him a small smile, taking the coffee he offered.

“Well… If you want to start making up for it, you can join me and Alix for breakfast. I won’t take no for an answer.” Mari winked playfully before taking a long swig of the much needed coffee. She was exhausted, so maybe she’d take a nap in the taxi on the way to the mall with Juleka and Rose to help them find some dresses for the gala. Usually she’d offer to make them, but with the gala being in only two days, she didn’t really have the time.

“I’d love to join you for breakfast, princess, I could eat a horse.” Adrien took her arm and slowly began guiding her down the hall.

Marinette smiled, but it stopped halfway as warning bells began blaring in her head. What had he just called her?

The edges of her vision darkened and she felt her legs go to jelly. Her eyes instantly darted to Adrien’s hand, noticing the ring at last, before they darted back to his eyes. Eyes that had a sickening of glee to them as he grinned, gathering her into his arms as she fell unconscious.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but you left me no choice. I can’t lose you to a monster, afterall.”

---

Alix glanced down at her phone impatiently, standing around the lobby with Nino, Kim, Juleka and Rose. They were supposed to be having breakfast by now, then Miss Bourbon was going to take them to the mall. A different mall from the last one, of course.

“Marinette is late again.” Rose sighed, rummaging through her purse that was decorated in unicorns soaring on rainbows.

“Miss Bourbon too.” Kim checked his phone, looking through his messages from Ondine, a bored expression on his face. “I understand Marinette, that girl’s always late for something.”

So the group waited, and waited. Soon two hours went by and other members of the class walked by and shot the group scornful looks.

Then Miss Bourbon rushed from the elevators, dark shadows visible under her eyes and dressed in a long sleeved turtleneck and jeans, as well as her high heels.

“Good morning, everyone! I’m sorry that I overslept, I had a busy night last night!” Eva smiled brightly, before her gaze flickers over their faces and a frown appeared. “Where’s Marinette?”

“Still in her room, probably.” Kim muttered and slid his phone into his pocket. “Now we have to eat breakfast with the gullible attack dogs.”

“Let’s just go get her! Maybe her alarm just didn’t go off!” Alix snapped softly, crossing her arms as she stormed towards the elevators as soon as Alya and Lila entered the lobby. Lila let out a surprised cry when Alix shoved by her just as she exited the elevator, and turned to snap at her, but the doors were already closing.

When they did, Lila turned back to the small group and got her signature smile; a smile that signalled the predator was about to pounce on their prey. It made Juleka roll her eyes as she pulled Rose close.

"How about we all get ahead on that breakfast?" Evangeline spoke up, also sensing the attack Lila was gearing up for as the Italian's gaze settled on Nino.

"Oh my, Nino, I haven't seen you in forever, I do hope there's no hard feelings." Lila's pouted as she strode up to the boy, setting a hand on his arm as he just glared at her. "Alya feels so bad about what she did…"

"I'm sure she does." Nino snapped, his hands curling into fists. Alya still hadn't apologized. When Nino tried to return the dress, they'd found out Lila had already shed the receipt and had taken the tag off of the dress. That had led to Nino calling his and Alya's parents, explaining everything. Alya was now expecting to fork over all of the money she stole from him, of which she has not yet done. "Can you just leave me alone, Lila? I'm not really in the mood."

"Oh? That's a pity, I was going to discuss with you your interest in mature women." That grin came back, her green eyes narrowed a fraction.

Before Nino could ask what she meant, Alix came stumbling out of the elevators, looking pale.

"She isn't in her room, which looks like it's been torn apart. Her door last left wide open, and I found her purse on the floor in the hall." Alix held up the small purse Marinette usually wore, visibly shaken.

The group watched as Evangeline stormed over to the hotel's front desk and began yelling for the police to be called.

---

Damian watched as Cass taped pictures of Chat Noir to basically every punching bag they had in their personal gym. Jason taking out daggers and such for Marinette, claiming that the girl probably had a lot of frustrations she wanted to work out. Dick smirked at that and pointed at the bruises on Jason's neck, joking that he must be working out a lot of frustrations too. Damian tried his best to tune them out as his mind wandered a bit. He wondered how well Marinette could fight against Cass, against any of his brothers, against him.

"You're thinking too hard." Dick poked Damian in the side of the head, drawing the young man out of his thoughts, before shooting a glare to his oldest brother. "Just relax, we've seen the videos of Ladybug fighting, Marinette obviously has some skill."

"But there's magic involved when she's Ladybug shot out." Damian snapped out, before he stood and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself. Marinette wasn't some damsel in distress, besides, this training could be good for her, for her reflexes and her hand to hand combat, so Damian knew he shouldn't be stressing. But for some odd reason, he was on edge, panicky, a feeling he had never really dealt with before.

Then in unison, everyone's comms beeped. Damian quickly pulled his out of his pocket and read the messages being sent out on police scanners. And felt his blood run to ice.

"He's got her." Cass whispered, before turning sharply to Kate who had just entered the room, also holding her comm. "Fucking dammit, the pervy cat has her, who else would kidnap her?!"

"I knew I should have gotten him last night!" Regret flashed in Kate's eyes as she stared down at the messages on her screen. "But he disappeared before I could even put a tracker on him."

"I would have rather you'd cut off his left hand." Cass muttered sourly, looking over as Damian was on his feet in an instant, rushing towards one of the hidden entrances to the Bat Cave. The rest of them exchanged glances before following quickly behind.

When they got down, Bruce was already in costume and at the computers with Red Robin, a map of Gotham city on the screen.

"We can't track her phone, it's still at the hotel from what the police have gathered. Her room was a mess, but they couldn't find anything of interest." Batman sighed as he eyed the map carefully, noting how Damian's hands curled into fists. "We'll find her. Red Hood, Robin, you're both coming with me to scope out the hotel. The rest of you will search around Gotham, look for any clues. Chat Noir is probably in an unhinged state, as he obviously has been escalating for quite some time."

"He's going to hurt her." Damian whispered, his hands slowly curling into fists as he stated at the screen. She could be anywhere in Gotham, and they had no possible clues of where to find her. "If she fights against him, he'll definitely hurt her…"

---

Marinette groaned as she slowly came to. She felt nauseous and her limbs ached. She went to cradle her head in her hands, but her hands were forced to stop short. Once her vision cleared, she looked up at her wrists, spotting the rope that bound them to a pole.

Her eyes darted around, seeing she was laying on her back in a large empty looking warehouse. Adrenaline kicked in and she began frantically tugging at her bonds.

"It's no use, Ladybug, you're not getting out of this one." Chat Noir soon appeared in her line of sight, grinning as he dropped to his knees beside her, reaching out and gently cupping her face in his clawed hands. "Look at you, finally all mine, that spoiled rich boy can't hurt you now."

"Chat…?" Marinette croaked out, her throat feeling as if it were on fire. "Why am I here? What are you doing?"

"I'm protecting you, silly bug." Chat knelt beside her, his hands moving to cup her face. His thumb brushed slowly over her lower lip, his eyes full of admiration. "Soon you and I can be together forever, with no one brainwashing you to think we aren't soulmates."

"Chat… Chat, let me go, please!" Marinette struggled once again against her bonds, but trembled when Chat ran his claws lightly down the sides of her face; not enough to break skin, but just enough pressure to threaten to. "Please, this is a misunderstanding!"

"I want you to transform, Ladybug, become your beautiful self for me." Chat added on the pressure and Marinette whimpered as small pricks of blood swelled in her cheeks.

"I can't… My kwami isn't even here.."

The cold gaze Char sent her caused bile to rise in her throat.

"No worries, my lady I guess I'll just have to make due with what I have."

---

The hotel visit had been no help at all. Her friends didn't think she had even left the hotel, her teacher was useless as always, and Alya just went on and on about how Marinette liked to start drama.

"I did see Marinette the other night with a strange man." Robin overhead Lila Rossi talking to one of the officers at the hotel, a look of 'concern' clear on her face. "It was a much older man, old enough to be her father. He was balding, from what I remember, with a goatee. They seemed very friendly, he was touching her a lot.."

Robin wasn't sure if he was actually hearing what he was hearing. Was this girl deliberately trying to make it so that the investigation would go off course? It took everything within Robin not to go over there and violently shake her.

"Please, let me help somehow!" His gaze then settled to a shaken Eva who was practically falling into Red Hood's arms, gripping his upper arms to hold herself up as she was shaking badly. "Please, I need to help, please."

"We can handle it." Robin snapped out before he could stop himself. But they didn't need a weepy woman trying to get herself into danger, most likely making things worse if she got in the way. "You'll just be a hassle. We're trained in this sort of this, you're just a civilian."

"I.. I understand." A shadow fell over Eva's expression, before she turned towards Red Hood, her hand sliding into his and giving it a tight squeeze. "Please… please save her, she's like a little sister to me."

"Don't worry, Vixen, we'll get her back, and I'll bring you back the head of whoever took her." Red Hood touched her cheek faintly, before both vigilantes turned to see Batman exiting the elevator with one of the detectives. "Got anything yet, Batman?"

"No." Batman growled under his breath, before heading out the front doors. "We'll go and join the canvas of Gotham. Surely someone noticed someone carrying the body of an unconscious teen girl."

"It's basically a regular thing in Gotham." Robin snapped out, following close behind.

---

Tikki kept herself hidden wherever she could, having to change often as the police searched every inch of Marinette's hotel room, even through all of her luggage, and every compartment. Tikki had to admit, they were very thorough.

The kwami watched as Batman entered and left, no one finding any evidence of where Marinette could have gone.

Tikki knew she had to go to this Batman and guide him to where Chat Noir was, but she had to wait until everyone cleared out.

Once the police all left the room, she went to fly out to chase after them, but stopped short when Evangeline entered. Tikki hesitated, before turning her gaze to Marinette's massive suitcase. A suitcase in which none of the police had found the secret compartment, the false bottom.

The kwami flew down as soon as the TA turned her back, and carefully unlatched the secret compartment of the suitcase.

When Eva turned around, she saw the large red and black box spill out onto the floor. Without a word, she reached for it.

Taglist: @realrandomposts @interobanginyourmom @ladybug-182 @ladylb @zalladane @mochinek0 @persephonebutkore @urbanpineapplefarmer @vixen-uchiha @angelofmusickaterinapetrova @thewheezingbubbledragon @northernbluetongue @thequestionablyhuman @ginamarie1512 @maude-zarella @2sunchild2 @saphiraazure2708 @ayuchan07 @virgil-is-a-cutie @thepeacetea

#Seeing Green #maribat #daminette

541 notes · View notes

regolithheart · 4 years

Text

Love In The Time of Coronavirus: Chapter Five

Summary: One pandemic, one lake house, and two people who loathe one another. Will they be able to survive the outbreak...and each other?

MASTER LIST

Read on AO3.

---------------

CHAPTER FIVE:

Cassian shuffled through his dresser to find clothes to change into. It would be so easy to throw on a pair of clean sweats, but he didn’t want to resort to that. It was only day two of their self-isolation and if he wasn’t careful, it would be a slippery slope. Besides, he could just imagine the look of distain on Nesta’s face to see him walking around in pajamas in the middle of the day.

His phone buzzed on the bed behind him and picking it up, he saw Rhys was on the other line. Cassian grinned as he accepted the FaceTime call.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning!” He heard Mor’s voice calling back although out of view from the camera and distant but cheerful.

Rhys shook his head. “It’s 4:30pm here.”

Leaning back against his headboard, Cassian shrugged. “Sorry, I’m not on Parisian-time. Seeing as I’m in Sonoma right now with a woman who hates my guts. Have I thanked you recently for that?”

Rhys gave him a wry smile. “You can take your grievances up with France and the U.S. government. Do you want Macron’s number?”

Cassian snorted. “Yeah, text it to me.” He wouldn’t have been surprised if Rhys really did have the French President’s personal number.

There was a moment of silence before Cassian raised an eyebrow.

“So….to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

The corner of Rhys’ mouth quirked up, but there was no amusement on his face. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Cassian held up a hand to stop him.

“No. If you’re going to give me bad news, I want it from one of the girls or Az. At least then I can take comfort from their beautiful faces. “

Rhys rolled his eyes, but again, he was interrupted.

Cassian watched the phone shuffle between hands and caught a glimpse of the ceiling of Rhys and Feyre’s pied-à-terre and the blue Parisian sky beyond. Soon, he was looking at Feyre.

“Hey.” Her smile was too sweet and she had drawn out her vowels for too long.

Cassian’s reply was cautious. “Feyre. What’s up?”

Her eyes flickered to someone off screen before smiling even wider at Cassian. “So listen. I just got off the phone with Elain and she and Graysen are actually staying in L.A. for the time being.”

Cassian dragged his free hand down the length of his face, groaning.

If there had been any saving grace in his current predicament, it was that Elain and her boyfriend were on there way up. At least then Nesta would have been appeased and he’d have more people to talk to. It was hard to strike up a conversation with someone who only answered in single word sentences or told him to eat shit half of the time.

He had even been prepared to make friends with Graysen—who was maybe the most boring person Cassian had ever met.

Graysen. Was that his name? Why did he think it was Gregory?

Cassian shook his head. “I gotta tell you, Feyre. You guys are really screwing me over, here.”

“I’m sorry!” Her voice was pleading. “If there was any other way—“

“I know, I know. It’s fine.” He knew they weren’t doing it on purpose, but it still didn’t stop the bubble of irritation that was building in the pit of his stomach. “Just tell Rhys that he better be prepared to sell this house at half it’s market value because there’s a good chance your sister is going to murder me in my sleep. I’m leaving all of my records to Az.”

“Hey!” He heard Mor object in the background.

“You can also tell your fiancé that he has surrendered his entire booze collection and I remember seeing a bottle of McCallan 1926 the last time I checked.” Cassian was starting to feel better just thinking about the prospect.

Rhys shoved his face into view. “Cassian, don’t you dare.”

“What? I can’t hear you over my emotional distress. Gotta go drown my sorrows in a fancy bottle of whiskey.”

“Cassian,” Rhys threatened again.

But Feyre had elbowed him out of the frame and looked at Cassian one more time. “There’s one more thing.”

Cassian raised his eyebrow.

“Elain is giving Nesta the news any minute now and you might want to avoid her for a little while.”

“This is why I’m not going to feel bad for drinking the McCallan.”

“I’m sorry, Cass.” Feyre’s smile was weak.

“Yeah. I gotta go find a hiding spot now. If I don’t make it out alive, it was nice knowing ya.”

He saw various arms waving at him and a received a chorus of goodbyes before he hung up.

Shit, shit, shit.

Abandoning the idea of a shower, Cassian tip-toed out of his room and threw a glance down the hallway. Nesta’s bedroom door was closed and he didn’t hear her angry voice coming from the other side. Quickly, he snuck downstairs and headed towards the gym.

He figured he’d be safe in there.

---------------

After ninety minutes in the gym and sauna, Cassian decided it was safe to come out. He had heard Nesta’s angry footfalls on the stairs fifteen minutes earlier, but it had been quiet after that.

As he passed the door to the office, he heard the scrape of a chair against the wooden floors, a thud, and Nesta cursing.

“Damnit!”

Cassian was all too happy to ignore the commotion, but before he got to the stairs, he heard the sound of something falling to the ground with a thud and Nesta’s long, defeated sigh.

Running a hand through his hair, he sent a silent apology to his future self and turned around to knock on the office door.

“What?” Nesta’s answer was curt.

He opened the door slowly, allowing himself a peak into the room in case Nesta felt like throwing something at him. He still remembered the day Pictionary was banned.

“Do you need some help?”

Nesta was on her knees. Her work bag was laying on its side, it’s contents scattered across the floor.

Cassian picked up a highlighter that had rolled to his feet. He began picking up random pens and markers on his way closer to her. She took them silently from him and stuffed them into her work bag, not sparing a glance his way.

“I can’t find the wifi password.”

He was amused for a moment until he realized he didn’t know what the password was either. They had set up the lake house’s internet years ago and everyone had saved it on their devices and promptly forgot it. Come to think of it, he really should update the password and run a security check on the house’s connections. He made a mental note to himself.

“Did you check the back of the router?” He had warned Rhys not to leave the password taped there, but wouldn’t have been surprised if his friend ignored his advice.

“Of course I did.”

“And?”

“And I wouldn’t be talking to you if it had worked, would I?” Nesta crossed her arms over her chest.

Cassian ignored her scowl and marched over to the desk to take a look himself. Sure enough, there was a sticker with the default password stuck behind the router. They couldn’t have been that lazy, could they?

“May I?” Cassian asked, gesturing to Nesta’s laptop opened on the desk.

“Sure. Go ahead and waste my time.”

Cassian ignored that too and punched in the password. A error ping sounded followed closely by a snort from Nesta behind him.

Drumming his fingers against the wooden desk, he searched his memory, trying to recall if they had ever written the password down. He began pulling out the desk drawers and shuffling through its contents. Not that there was much to look through. He would have been surprised if Rhys did any actual work in that room.

In the drawers Cassian found a stack of business cards, a letter opener, an empty leather bound notebook with gold gilded pages, a cigar trimmer and two cigars still in their plastic sleeves, but no sign of a wifi password.

He could image Nesta rolling her eyes at him, but when he looked up, he found that she wasn’t paying him any attention at all. Instead, she was on the other side of the room, looking at the framed pictures on the bookshelves and running a delicate finger across one of the photos, lost in her thoughts.

And that’s when Cassian finally remembered.

He reached over to the black and white photo of a woman and teenage girl, both with thick dark hair and matching brilliant smiles. The silver frame was heavy and well-polished. Turning it over, Cassian unlatched the back and revealed a yellow sticky note with Rhys’ tiny, yet neat handwriting.

“All set,” Cassian said, setting the photo back in it’s place on the desk.

“Who’s that?” Nesta asked as she watched him.

He hesitated. “Rhys’ mother and sister.”

Nesta was silent. Feyre must have told her what happened six years ago and he was glad he didn’t have to. It still made his heart ache just thinking about it.

Cassian cleared his throat and stood up to leave. Before closing the door behind him, he heard Nesta say, “Thank you.”

---------------

Nesta splashed water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked pale and the smudges under her eyes showed just how tired she really was. Sighing, she redid her braid and pinned it back in its usual crown, smoothing the flyaways down with her damp fingertips.

There. It wasn’t much, but it was an improvement.

She had escaped to her room for a moment after getting off a two-and-a-half hour conference call where the majority of it was taken up by Devlon and their client’s anecdotes about their second day of self-isolation and lamenting the fact that they were going to be missing a lot of golf. She had gritted her teeth through the whole thing, but remained silent.

Her only saving grace was the little satisfaction of knowing she was billing the client for this meeting and the more he droned on about the eighth hole at Pebble Beach, the more he was being charged.

She took a deep breath and began making her way back downstairs, to the long list of unread emails she had ignored all day.

Cassian’s bedroom door was ajar again.

God, did he ever close it?

Slowing down, she chanced a peak inside. His laptop sat open on the otherwise orderly bed, but he was nowhere to be seen.

When Nesta got back to the office, she crossed her arms and looked suspiciously around the room.

Next to her laptop, sitting on a coaster was a gin and tonic.

She glanced down at her watch. It was 5 o’lock on the dot and she wondered if Cassian had been waiting to hear her footsteps coming down the stairs. She didn’t see him in the living room or hear him in the kitchen and that annoyed her.

Pushing the drink away, she was even more annoyed when she saw that it was exactly how she liked—with a twist of lemon and an extra slice for good measure. She didn’t want to think about what it meant that Cassian knew her favorite drink, or how he knew it.

Instead, she focused on her mountain of emails. Half of them were office-wide emails, reminding everyone to be safe and to reach out to their clients to let them of their new Work From Home procedures and all of the additional spreadsheets and reports that they needed to keep up to date now that people were no longer in the office. It was exhausting to shift through. But then an email from Devlon made her pound her fist on the desk.

The ice from the gin and tonic tinkled.

She dialed Devlon’s number, nostrils flaring at every ring. He picked up on the fourth one.

“Are you kidding me?!”

Devlon’s voice was even-toned. “I had no choice.”

“But, Eris? I said anyone but him!”

“You do remember that I’m your boss, right?”

Nesta didn’t reply, just seethed.

“Listen, I know it’s not ideal. I wouldn’t have put him on the Carver project at all but…” he sighed.

“Tamlin put a hold on Rose Hall and I’m in a staffing bind.”

“Can’t you shift some other people around?”

Devlon was not amused. “I need to find projects for eight people.”

“I’ll take Amren.”

“Good. Then you have to take Eris, too. He’s the only one on the viz team that’s available and can do the work.”

Nesta huffed. “Fine. But he needs to be reminded that I’m the Project Architect and he answers to me.”

“Don’t we all?”

Nesta hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair, still annoyed. She was glad Amren was now on her team, but she wasn’t looking forward to babysitting Eris.

Looking up, she saw the photo of Rhys’ mother and sister smiling at her. She averted her eyes.

She hated that room.

For an office, it was surprisingly lacking. She had only been able to find one single pen in the whole entire room and it was a Mont Blanc fountain pen. Judging by the weight, no doubt it was made of platinum.

The rest of the room was more of a treasure chest of knick-knacks, travel paraphernalia, and photos. So many framed photos.

She had perused them earlier that day when Cassian was looking for the wi-fi password and her eyes had snagged on a photo sitting in a simple wood frame. It was all of them: Rhys, Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Feyre.

Nesta had not been able to tell where the photo had been taken. Judging from what they were wearing, they could have been anywhere at any time. To anyone else it would have just been a typical photo of a group of friends, but it had struck Nesta to see how happy they all were, especially Feyre. Rhys’ arm was around her waist, but Feyre’s head was leaning on Mor’s shoulder. And her sister’s arm was stretched behind the blonde, her hand clasping Cassian’s.

Nesta couldn’t recall if she, Elain, and Feyre had ever a photo similar to that one. Maybe they did before, but certainly not after their mother…

She snapped her laptop shut, revealing the gin and tonic she had nudged aside earlier. The ice had began to melt, but she finished it in three gulps.

---------------

Nesta found Cassian in the kitchen. Not that she had been looking for him.

She was returning her glass and he just happened to be there, pulling items from the fridge. The sound of ice clinking against the tumbler made him look up.

He raised his eyebrow, but his smile was soft.

“Looks like you could use another.”

Given the day that Nesta had, she agreed.

Cassian held out his hand and Nesta placed the glass into his awaiting palm.

She was surprised when he put the dirty glass into the sink and watched as he deftly prepared her a new drink in a clean one. She was even impressed when he managed to carve the perfect sliver of lemon peel with the large chef’s knife in his hand and gave it a delicate twist before nestling it into the ice and handing her the drink.

Nesta took a sip. It was perfect.

“Thank you.”

Cassian made a noise in the back of his throat. “So are you going to be eating dinner tonight?” His tone was casual and he didn’t look up at her as he organized the food on the counter.

She hesitated, but he was being nice so she could at least try to be civil. “What are you making?”

He finally looked up at her, his grin wide, canines gleaming as he held up a parcel wrapped in butcher’s paper. “Steaks!”

“Isn’t that a little extravagant?”

“You’ve never heard of steak night Wednesday?” He grinned at his own joke. “We’re celebrating.”

“What are we celebrating?”

There was that grin again and Nesta blamed the heat rising in her chest on the two gin and tonics she’d had.

“We’re celebrating the fact that I just broke into Rhys’ prized whiskey collection.” He nodded to a bottle that other than the color of the liquid—a deep, dark caramel—and the label that said Years 60 Old, didn’t look like anything special to Nesta.

Cassian could tell she was unimpressed. “That is a $75,000 bottle of Scotch.”

Nesta laughed. “You’re shitting me!”

“I would never joke about McCallan.”

Nesta picked up the bottle to examine it further. It was heavier than she had expected it to be. The label was thick and had a beautiful texture that was imprinted with a gold border, but she still couldn’t believe that she was holding a bottle of alcohol that was worth a year’s salary.

“So what do you say, Nesta Archeron? Have dinner with me tonight.”

She looked at him. At the checkered button down with the sleeves rolled up, and his hair which was half pulled back in a knot. His smile was easy and the light from the setting sun streaming into the kitchen made his eyes glow amber.

He cleaned up nice. It wasn’t the first time Nesta had noticed, but it always took her by surprise.

“Okay,” she said and took a sip of her drink—an excuse to avert her eyes.

“Great! You can start on the potatoes.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“The potatoes.” Cassian repeated, pointing to a bag of small yellow potatoes.

Nesta started backing away from the island. “No. No one said I had to cook.”

“Boiling potatoes isn’t exactly rocket science.” Cassian looked amused. “Just grab those potatoes, wash them, fill that pot with water, and wait.”

Nesta eyed the potatoes. “How many?”

Cassian shrugged. “Ten? Eleven?”

Nesta grabbed the bag and pulled out twelve golf-sized potatoes.

Eleven. What kind of maniac was he?

When the pot was on the stove, Cassian tossed in two healthy pinches of salt into the water.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“That’s it? How long until they’re done?”

Cassian looked at her incredulous. “Have you really never boiled potatoes before?”

Nesta didn’t answer. It wasn’t as though she had never boiled potatoes before, but the few times she deigned to cook, she always followed a step-by-step recipe to the tee.

“When the water starts boiling, poke them with a fork. If they’re soft, they’re done and if not give them a couple more minutes.”

She nodded.

“In the meantime, turn the oven on to 400 and relax.”

Nesta let her shoulders drop. She hadn’t realized how tense she was.

When the potatoes were done, Cassian strained them and dumped them all onto a sheet tray.

“Now here’s the fun part,” he said, grabbing a wooden spoon. “Take this spoon and press it into the potatoes like this. Really smash it.”

He demonstrated and Nesta watched as the potato flattened under the pressure of the spoon, it’s edges splitting into craggy fissures.

“Your turn.”

Nesta took the wooden spoon from Cassian and tried to mimic his technique.

“Come on, Archeron. You can do better than that. Really smash it. Pretend it’s my face you’re crushing.”

Nesta hid her smirk, and pressed hard. It was oddly satisfying.

When she was done, Cassian tossed in some herbs, a couple of crushed garlic cloves, a few glugs of olive oil and told Nesta to mix it up with her hands. She did as she was instructed, but cringed the whole entire time. As soon as the contents of the tray were mixed, she rushed to the sink to wash her hands.

That was one of the reasons why she didn’t cook. But aside from getting gross oil fingers, thirty minutes later they were sitting at the dining table with the most amazing smelling dinner in front of them, and Nesta decided it hadn’t been too bad.

Cassian held up the bottle of McCallen 1926. “Can I tempt you?”

She wasn’t a whiskey drinker in the least, but she was curious to see. When she nodded, he poured her two fingers’ worth.

Nesta twirled the liquid in her glass, trying to determine if she could spot how special it was just by looking at it. It looked pretty ordinary to her. She glanced at Cassian before taking a sip.

It was much more sweet than she had expected it to be. There were hints of dried fruit—figs, maybe. And as the liquid rolled over her tongue she picked up a bit of vanilla and something warm and nutty. Cinnamon? It was definitely familiar. When she finally swallowed, the aroma hit her. Christmas. This tasted like Christmas. Warm and comforting and…special.

She cleared her throat. “It’s okay.”

Cassian simply shook his head, torn between amusement and disbelief. He took his own sip and Nesta watched his face closely. It was subtle—almost imperceivable—but she saw his discovery mirror her own.

When he opened his eyes, his voice was awed. “It’s incredible.” He grinned. “I am never drinking anything else, ever again.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and he winked.

“Well, lets eat!”

Everything tasted as amazing as it looked and Nesta felt a flash of pride at how wonderful the potatoes were. They had baked them in the oven and the edges were crispy and fragrant. If that was all Nesta was allowed to eat for the rest of her life, she’d be happy.

“These potatoes are incredible.”

Cassian grinned. “They’re the easiest thing.”

“I never learned how to cook.” The words slipped out of Nesta’s mouth before she could stop them.

Cassian looked up, surprised. “Really? Then who taught Feyre? I thought…” He stopped himself from finishing that sentence.

Nesta looked away. She hated how he became quiet. Probably because he knew the truth about what happened all those years ago. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago. Sometimes, like at that very moment, it felt all too fresh.

She cleared her throat and straightened. When she turned back to him, her face was neutral, calm.

“How did you learn to cook?”

Taking her cue, Cassian’s smile came easily. “I used to be a line cook,” he answered, popping a piece of steak into his mouth.

For the rest of the dinner, Cassian told Nesta of all the jobs he had had growing up. First as a dishwasher, then a line cook. There was the summer in high school when he was a life guard at the public pool but had to quit because all the moms were hitting on him.

Nesta rolled her eyes at that story, but then laughed when he told her about his stint as a dog walker. She almost choked when he told her about the time he baby-sat a nine-year-old.

“You were a manny?!”

“Yeah.” His grin turned into a scowl. “But then I was fired because the kid was failing math! I was only supposed to pick him up from school and made sure he didn’t break his neck until his parents got home. I didn’t sign up to teach long division.”

Nesta had to brush a tear of laughter from her eyes as Cassian cleared away the dirty dishes.

She smoothed her hair back and saw Cassian leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

She sobered quickly. “I…um…no. I have to get back to work.”

He raised his eyebrow. “It’s 8pm.”

She stood up. “I have a lot of emails to get to.”

They held each other’s stare long enough for Nesta to feel uncomfortable, but then Cassian shrugged his shoulder and moved towards the sink.

“Another time then.”

Nesta watched him for three more seconds, then turned and left.

#acotar #nessian #nessian fanfic #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian archeron #feyre archeron #elain archeron #rhysand #azriel #morrigan

18 notes · View notes

incoherentbabblings · 4 years

Text

Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice (5/11)

Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer’s work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Ao3 Link Here!

In the first hour on conversation with Rebecca Andrews, her phone had rung no less than three times.

“It’s… he’s just very worried about me at the moment.” She uttered, pulling out more inspiration boards for Stephanie (and Cassandra) to muse over. Why Steph had brought Cass she wasn’t entirely sure. It was not an insult to say that the girl’s fashion sense was lacking, nor did she really know what looked good on Stephanie. But, to the public, and Stephanie supposed in reality too, she was the Maid of Honour, and that did come with certain obligations.

Of course, Cass was also there to pick up any inconsistencies in the woman’s actions or thinking or…anything really, that would set off alarm bells.

As for the dress itself, a silhouette decision had been somewhat easy.

“Please no trumpet or slinky numbers. It has to be a little conservative.” Stephanie wrung her hands. “I’ve got a lot of scarring on my back and chest… rather not show those off. And we’re thinking of the Cathedral for the venue, after this that’s where Tim and I are heading, so I don’t want…”

“Oh no, no, no. I know the Dean and the Bishop. Stuffy old men if there ever were a pair.”

Rebecca had smiled in a friendly manner then, hand over her mouth thinking, pulling Stephanie to the centre of her old workshop. It was neat and fancy, with one wall entirely constituting windows that looked out onto the other red brick tenements of this area of Gotham. Three months ago, Rebecca may have prided herself on being a hidden gem, now it seemed she was hidden for a reason.

“Do you just want shoulders covered, or full sleeves?”

Cassandra piped up from where she was sat, behind one of the old green sewing machines within the studio. She was resting an elbow on the table, watching amusedly.

“I want her, and I know Tim would love it, to look like Cinderella.”

“How do you know that?” Stephanie’s tone was a bit pointed, still raw from last night. Cassandra only smiled, not giving anything away, and shrugged.

Rebecca meanwhile nodded, brain sparking off with ideas.

“Yes… I can do that. You practically are this city’s Cinderella case, aren’t you?”

“I mean… I guess so?”

Guess so. The parallels practically draw themselves, Steph. She berated herself as measurements were taken. She was wearing workout leggings and a tank top, fully intending to run to college once the ordeal was over. Not sweeping cinders from a fireplace, but certainly not Gotham’s highest social circle frequenter.

“If I may ask…” Rebecca began tentatively, measuring Stephanie’s under-bust and legs. “Why me? You must have… heard…”

The phone rang again, and Rebecca only sighed, excusing herself.

Left alone in the studio, Stephanie frowned. “I don’t want a Cinderella dress, Cass.”

“What do you want?”

Steph jolted. “What?”

“You don’t want sexy, you don’t want princess, so…”

“I’d rather have nothing.” Steph grumbled to herself. Cassandra caught it and gave her a dangerous look. Steph sighed heavily and looked out the window. “What Bruce wants he gets. What everyone else feels is irrelevant.”

“Steph.” Cass’s tone was sharp, and Stephanie knew somewhere inside herself that she was being a brat, but she was still upset from yesterday at Tim. At herself. She didn’t know why she was so frightened. She just knew in her churning gut that she wouldn’t be enough to hold him to her. She never had been. And he was too lovesick to realise it. And she was too weak to tell him no.

She wanted the job over fast, but they still had weeks to go. Her mood had turned foul, and she was increasingly biting at everyone. Tim, her mother, Cassandra, her classmates… She was slipping. But she was miserable, and for the first time in a long while, couldn’t find a way to cope. She felt like she was regressing.

Rebecca trundled in with bundles of fabric.

“Sorry about that!” She huffed. Underneath the piles of fabric she held a small portfolio. Thin taffeta, structured satin and fine lace tumbled onto a table. She held out the portfolio for Stephanie to take and look through. “So, here’s some rough designs I’ve done in the past, we can use one as a base and go from there. First off, I want to know what your main fabric is to be. Not all three, only for the detailing.”

Stephanie’s eyes were drawn to the lace, but then Cass stepped in. “I like taffeta. You’ll look like a princess.”

“I suppose.” Dragging her eyes away, she looked at the see-through taffeta, then down at one of the designs she had opened on. Saying nothing, she stared a little longer.

Rebecca smiled patiently. “It’s a lot huh?”

“I just… I didn’t think my wedding was going to be this big.” Telling the truth, Stephanie told herself it was to make Rebecca more at ease. “We have to scale up.”

“Hmm.” Stephanie watched Cassandra watch Rebecca, who was musing over what Stephanie had said. “Well, let’s go for this. What are your flowers?”

“…Carnations.”

“Car—oh gosh. Okay, and your shoes?”

“I haven’t…I thought you should buy the dress first.”

Rebecca laughed. “Oh, you’d be surprised. What about jewellery? Any ideas for that?”

“I…”

“Dad wants her in pearls.” Cassandra butt in again. Stephanie bit her tongue. “Family jewels and all that.”

“Ah, pearls. The something borrowed part of the rhyme? And your hair?”

“I want it down.” For that she was certain. “Or mostly down.”

“So… a high neck? But your hair down?”

Her sceptical tone made Stephanie’s hackles rise. Rebecca circled around Stephanie, face pinched. Stephanie’s heartrate picked up from the critique and staring.

“If we do a bateau neckline we can go a little lower with the back. And your hair can’t be down, not with a high neck and full skirt. You’ll look matronly.”

“But I –”

“I’ll give you a veil, don’t worry, no-one will get a clear view of any scarring. You’ve got a swan’s neck. Let’s show it off, hmm? We’ll go for taffeta and lace. Soft. But grand. No ruffles, no sparkles.”

Rebecca took the portfolio from Stephanie’s hands and turned to a memorised page. “This. Longer train, higher neck. You got your long sleeves, got the full cathedral train – fittingly – you got grand princess… but none of the tackiness. Sound good?”

Taken aback by the competence the woman displayed, Stephanie nodded. It wasn’t what she wanted, not entirely, but it would suit the occasion. If it ever got to that stage. Perhaps Bruce would solve it after this first meeting.

“When do you want me back?” Stephanie asked.

“Four days.”

She had a seminar in the afternoon, but, “I can do the morning.”

“Nine o’clock sharp please. We’ve got a lot to do in not a lot of time.” Rebecca turned to see Cass watching her. She didn’t seem off put by it. “How many bridesmaids have you chosen?”

“Just Cass. And Tim just has Dick for his best man.”

Rebecca smiled absent-mindedly, allowing Stephanie off the pedestal. “So not large in that regard. That’s fine. What will you be wearing?”

“Something gold.” That part of the wedding, Cass was pleased with.

“White and gold colour scheme.” Stephanie explained, grabbing her little backpack.

“Ah. Just the two colours? No in-between? No cream or ivory or custard?”

Stephanie managed to laugh. “No, no. White and gold. That’s all.”

Rebecca nodded. “The dress will have to be pure white then. No ivory for you Miss Brown.”

“Mrs Wayne.” Cass nudged Steph teasingly, who had turned white, close to her limit and wanting nothing more for the appointment to be done.

“Drake.” She coughed, trying to hide her discomfort. “Drake-Wayne.”

Neither girl missed Ms Andrew’s eyes sparking off. She smiled, but it seemed a little hollow.

“I’ll see you on Thursday.”

Steph nodded, Cassandra gently pulling them towards the exit.

“Thursday nine in the morning. Thank you, Ms Andrews!”

“Bye Stephanie.” She seemed to remember something and called out to the girls. “You won’t regret choosing me! Thank you for the chance to prove I’m bankable!”

Right on time, her phone began to ring.

Shutting the door to let them out onto the concrete stairwell, both girls knelt right down, and tried to listen to the conversation. Nothing could be heard through the solid stone walls and heavy wooden door.

Huffing, Steph caught the time after she pulled out her second phone. “I got class and then Tim and I are going to speak to the Bishop. Gotta bribe our way in there.” Glancing sideways, she looked at Cass. “What are you doing now?”

Cass did not answer. Instead, she forced Stephanie to a place she did not want to go.

“You don’t like what she’s making for you.”

“…No.”

“Then why –”

Stephanie’s temper flared once more, and she snapped at Cassandra.

“I don’t know what I want, okay? I just don’t. That allowed? Fucking…” She bit at Cass, who only glared at her. Cassandra had never been one to back off when Stephanie was in a foul mood. “I trust this designer to make me a nice dress and I’ll wear it with the biggest goddamn smile on my face. Tim can have his little fantasy and leave me empty at the end of it.”

The insult to her brother mortified Cassandra. For as much as she loved Stephanie, she also loved Tim. Tim who had, as far as Cassandra could tell, done nothing but be open with the girl a few steps down from her. She chided, “Stephanie!”

“Oh God I am not in the mood for a –”

Steph was shoved down several stairs, Cassandra having had enough of her self-pity. She gasped, clinging tightly to the wall in an attempt to catch her breath from the sudden jolt.

“Grow up.” Cassandra spat out. “Remember why you are doing it.”

Stephanie felt like she had been punched and was unable to catch her breath. Moving to hold onto the handrail, she turned back up to Cassandra, only to find her Maid of Honour was looking on with frustration. A frustration very close to anger directed straight at Stephanie.

There was something in the look Stephanie gave Cassandra in response, one akin to betrayal, that made Cass snort. She was not going to indulge Stephanie any further and left, whirring past her with no goodbye.

The bottom door slammed shut, definitively letting Steph know that she wasn’t welcome to spend the night with Cassandra.

Feeling very close to tears, Stephanie rubbed at her eyes in the empty stairwell, sniffed, then began to run, trying to leave her mood behind her.

She walked to the cathedral after class, feeling close to punching the next person who grabbed her hand without her permission, or asked her for news about the wedding, or who questioned her with such a hungry look in their eye, that it made her feel oddly frightened and unsafe.

Gotham had too many cathedrals for too many denominations, but they had ended up at this one because it was where Bruce’s parents were married and it was where their funeral service was held. They were trying to get as much sympathy from the public as they could.

It was built from an oily black stone that looked like it was almost sweating, it looked so slick, and inside it was the very definition of Gothic. And yet somehow it managed to be filled with light and colour. It was damaged or bits of it were blown up it seemed every other week, and yet it had endured.

Stephanie found Tim inside, sat at the front of one of the aisles. The way the light was falling through the stained-glass windows cast colourful patches across the row.

His hair looked very black and thick.

Stephanie stared at him from across the aisle as he failed to notice her. Tim didn’t look deep in thought or prayer, he just looked sick and lost in his mind, a thousand miles away and spiralling down in his head. He was sallow, almost green he seemed so unwell, and she could offer no comfort. He wasn’t sleeping. Usually he would nap as and when, in weird places and at weird times, but it was enough to keep him going. It seemed now like his own brain was keeping him awake as some part of a sick experiment to watch how the human body fails after denied sleep for so long.

A memory of him lying on her stomach when they were young, both snoozing on her bed, offered itself as a potential solution.

She found herself not really wanting to however and quashed the thought. Where did Tim get off looking like such an abandoned puppy? She was the one who had to have asked to defer her graduation until winter due to time constraints and work overload, she was the one being forced into a role she didn’t want…

And he had the nerve to look like she had broken his heart. Tim, who had done that to her countless times over countless years, thought he was hard done by. She had no patience for it.

But then he noticed her approaching and his eyes flittered to hers. His eyes sparked with life, just for a moment, but then the blue grew dull once more, and the fog resumed.

Something inside her jerked painfully and before she was fully aware of what she was doing, Stephanie had rushed over, stood in front of him, and pulled him forward until he was being cradled. Almost aggressively, her fingers ran through his hair, and she felt him tremble.

They remained silent for a long while, Stephanie’s mind whirring at a thousand miles an hour. She could feel Tim slipping back into his lost thoughts once more. There were not many others present inside, so it was only the quiet sound of muffled footsteps and mutterings, a reassuring humdrum in the background, which kept her focus on him.

“It’s not fair.” She whispered, begging him to understand. “But I... I don��t trust…anyone with us.”

Tim made a mumble which suspiciously sounded like an apology to her. His hands crept up, to hold her elbows, and Stephanie rested her cheek on his head. She found herself scratching behind his ear.

He pushed her away, very gently, only so he could look up at her.

“I’m going to prove it to you. That everyone else doesn’t matter.”

A settled determinism had appeared then on his face and his posture, but Stephanie sighed, disregarding his mood. “I think you’re naïve.”

The bitterness crept back in, despite her regrets of her earlier spiteful thoughts and words, but this time it wasn’t directed at Tim. It was a general despondency and distrustfulness that even Tim, for all his earnestness, couldn’t save her from.

“Let me try.”

“Tim...”

Whatever Tim was going to say in response, she didn’t get to hear, because his open look slammed shut, and he peaked behind her left arm. Stephanie turned to see two elderly men approaching. One in a black suit, one in a robe.

“Mr Drake? Miss Brown?” Asked the man in the suit.

Tim’s game face on, he smiled affably. It seemed to placate the two men, who smiled politely and held their hands out to shake, but as Stephanie watched, she realised what their conversation the other day truly meant.

Tim had sometimes asked her who she truly loved, the suit or him, and she hadn’t understood why he had gotten so upset at her knowing his real name at first. Robin was Tim and Tim was Robin.

But then… that was less and less true. And some of that was her fault.

Tim wanted to prove to her the rest of the world didn’t matter, and yet he was retreating so far inward that soon even his friends and family wouldn’t know him.

Stephanie snaked an arm around Tim’s bicep as he shook hands with the two men, she following suit a moment later.

The Dean looked sterner than the Bishop, and insisted they walk around the cathedral grounds. The Bishop did all the talking after that point as they walked towards the cloisters.

“We understand that desire to marry where one’s family had in the past, and I am sure Mr Wayne would be over the moon…”

“But…” Tim asked, slowly stopping in a patch of light down the long corridor.

“But, well, we usually ask that anyone wanting to get married here attends church every Sunday for at least six months, and you two want to be wed in…four weeks? I’m sorry Mr Drake, but we can’t make an exception to you and Miss Brown.”

“But—” Tim tried to explain, but the Dean cut them off.

“It’s exploitative. We aren’t a pretty venue for a socialite’s wedding. I believe you have your own property for that kind of thing.”

There wasn’t much to say to that, as the pair knew he was right. These guys took their roles seriously, and they knew what Tim and Stephanie’s request looked like.

“Then why didn’t you say over the phone? Why did you invite us here? To chide us for even asking?” Stephanie managed to push back. She tried to measure her tone back down. “We love the cathedral because it is beautiful. We chose it because of its importance to our family. Bruce especially.”

“We aren’t exploiting anyone… least of all you. We know it’s on very short notice. If we had another choice we would be delaying a bit but…”

Tim trailed off, as if the pair were holding off on some dark grief-stricken secret that no-one, not even the Bishop, could know. The two older men exchanged glances, and Stephanie looked at her feet. Talking of exploitation…

“No.” Concluded the Bishop.

“But we –”

“I am sorry, the pair of you.” The Dean did not sound sorry. “But that’s our answer.”

The Bishop at least, looked slightly sorry at Tim and Stephanie’s genuinely sad expressions.

Stephanie, internally, was cursing up a storm. It would look laughable that they had been rejected from here as a venue. They would look entitled, they would look out of touch that they thought they could buy their way in, they would look foolish. She squeezed Tim’s arm repeatedly, practically massaging it. She wasn’t sure if she was comforting him, or doing it to reassure herself.

“I’ll walk you both out.” Said the Bishop, noting that neither were making any movement to leave.

Tim tried very hard not to glare, and they turned, walking with the Bishop. He seemed sheepish, embarrassed as much at himself as for Tim and Stephanie, who were both more than a little white faced, not sure what to say.

“If…if anything happens… if you do get the chance to stretch it out a little, consider coming back.”

Out on the front steps, Tim finally turned to look at the Bishop.

“Why did you agree to meet us? Why not tell Mrs van Rijk that the dates didn’t work, thank you very much but no?”

Stephanie meanwhile was watching people walk by below and across the street. It was looking like it was going to start raining again soon. Mrs van Rijk was determined to have the reception in the manor gardens. Having looked at the scheduled forecast for the next fortnight, Stephanie was not entirely optimistic for next month, even as it was approaching mid-May.

The Bishop had no good answer to give.

“The Dean and I agreed that it was better to tell you the truth in person.”

“So you have a slot that we could fill? But you won’t let us.” Tim was getting pushy now, whereas Stephanie was ready to just drop it. She was having a foul day, best to call it a loss and go home.

Except home was supposed to be at Tim’s. Her bed didn’t even have any sheets on it now, and she was so tired all she wanted to do was crash, and hope her mood improved in the morning.

“Well, yes, however, as the Dean said, there’s no sincere reason for either of you to choose here outside of Mr Wayne’s parents had services here. Sentimental reasons aren’t enough for the church.”

“According to the Dean? You don’t think the cathedral will benefit from something as high profile as this? Or is that too exploitative and cynical?”

Stephanie was taken aback by how aggressive Tim was being. She turned back around and laid a hand on his back, though he did not relax.

“It’s alright.” She said, her tone decidedly not alright. “We’ll find somewhere else. There’s still time.”

“No.” At Tim’s denial, Steph’s hand clenched in his shirt. “Why would you both even jump to the conclusion that Steph and I were using you?”

There was something unspoken in Tim’s question that both Stephanie and the Bishop heard. Stephanie’s grumpiness shifted immediately to upset, and she didn’t miss the way the Bishop’s eyes deliberately trailed up and down from her legs to her face. She stumbled back down a step or two as if she had been punched.

Tim also took a step back, but then his face flushed red, frustration changing to anger.

“You know what—”

Blood splattered over Stephanie, and the sound of a shot rang out. She cried out in shock, quickly realising the Bishop had collapsed on the steps. People on the street screamed and shouted, and Tim looked up to the right.

“He’s been shot.” Stephanie uselessly said. Immediately she was on the floor with him, and she looked up to see Tim tightly bound, like a spring. Someone had shot at them, missing only because Tim and Stephanie had moved down a step each at the wrong moment. Stephanie saw Tim’s line of sight looking to a neighbouring tenement.

“Go,” She urged. “I’ll get him inside. Call for help.”

She could feel dozens of eyes on her, but it felt more akin to her time as Batgirl then as Stephanie. She found the wound, pulsing blood down her fingertips in the Bishop’s left shoulder. It was bright scarlet, and there was a lot, pouring down the steps. Other members of the public, seemingly realising that it was just one gun shot, began to stop and stare, unsure what to do.

Tim shouted directly at one lady to call an ambulance, causing the bystander effect to fall away, then he ran straight for the building, training kicking in. Stephanie hoped he would reach the vantage point before the shooter fled.

She, meanwhile, managed to get Bishop Sherborne just inside the front door, in the patch of coloured light from the rose window. She stared at the trail of blood she had made. The Bishop was resting on her thighs, and she was pressing hard on the wound, trying to stifle the blood flow. The man’s face was turning grey, and his breathing was shallow, so Stephanie knew the ambulance would not arrive in time.

“I’m sorry.” She found herself saying. “I don’t… God, I’m sorry.”

He spluttered blood, lungs filling up, and managed to reach upwards, holding onto her forearm.

She held on tight, and people began to gather. She stared at her fingers, seeing them becoming as red as the robe the dying Bishop wore.

She could feel the man slipping from her.

Tim nearly fell back into the cathedral, just in time for the Dean to arrive to the scene as well. He stumbled a bit, through the small crowd of people migrating towards the dying man on the floor. The Dean yelled at them to maintain their distance, then he did not speak again.

“I couldn’t find them.” Tim said, tears in his eyes as he begged the Bishop and the Dean to understand. The Dean looked blankly on at his dying colleague. Having received no response, Tim knelt, and held the Bishop’s hand.

The blood soon stopped flowing, and the chest stopped rising. Stephanie let out a cry she wasn’t aware she was holding onto, and the suddenness of what had happened caught up with her. She began to sob. Deep, sore gulping cries that hurt her lungs and ripped their way out of her throat.

This man had not been the target. Bruce had made them promise. No more deaths, he’d said.

She looked up at the Dean, begging an apology. Distantly she understood she was hyperventilating, which was not like her. She saw Tim’s hands shaking as he gently tugged the Bishop off her lap, lying him flat on the floor. She looked down, seeing how she her hands were dripping with blood and her clothes were damp and dark. Uncomfortable memories rose up, and she began to desperately gulp down air, unable to see straight. A skeletal smile and a dirty floor throbbed in her head.

She looked again in the direction to the Dean, searching for him in her line of sight wildly. “I couldn’t save him. I’m sorry.”

Tim was around her then, picking her up and setting her aside. The ambulance had arrived, for what it was worth, and would need to speak to them soon enough. He sat them in a dark and damp corner, behind a large pillar and slightly off to the side. Eyes followed them, but they were far enough away to be alone, though still in sight if they were suddenly needed once more. Stephanie buried her face in her hands, the stench of drying blood smearing on her face making her nauseous.

“Steph. Stephie.”

She cried hearing his pet name.

“Stephie you need to breathe.”

“I am.”

“Slower. Hands on my chest. Come on.”

She did as she was told, and Tim whimpered at the blood she had smeared everywhere. “Breathe with me, okay?”

She shook her head, wet and fat tears slipping freely down onto her shirt.

“Sweetheart, you can do it, watch your hands. Breathe up and down.”

Seeing her hands rise and fall slowly with Tim’s chest, she slowly began to match it. She was still crying, but it became manageable.

“What happened?” He whispered. “You’ve seen this before.”

“It’s my fault.”

“No.”

She nodded, eyes squeezing shut. She rumpled Tim’s shirt. “They said no because of me. He was shot because I was the target and they missed.”

“And me. It’s my fault too?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not yours.”

Looking and feeling an utter state, she leaned forward, letting Tim catch her and pull her close. Steph curled up into a ball, and his legs bent upwards to allow her to perch herself in a manner that meant she was compressed between his chest and thighs. Tim rested his chin on her head, and watched the Dean say goodbye to his co-worker once the ambulance had taken away the body.

The police had arrived then, and to Tim’s surprise, Commissioner Gordon was amongst them. Though on further musing it made sense after what looked like the assassination of a major public figure.

He recognized Tim, and after a moment clicked that the blonde curled up ball in Tim’s arms was the girl Babs had taken to helping out recently.

He walked over, bending his knees to check on them both.

“You doing alright kiddos? No injuries?”

“No.” Tim shook his head. “But I think whoever was shooting aimed for us. We moved down a step just before they fired.”

Gordon leaned back on his heels. “Why would someone be aiming for you?”

Stephanie realised Tim had put his foot in it. Neither knew how much information Batman had shared with the Commissioner. And of course, Tim and Stephanie knew nothing of wedding murders and unlucky wedding dress designers.

“...I don’t know. I just... feel it.”

It was weak, but Gordon pretended to buy it.

“You will both have to give witness statements...”

Stephanie nodded, emerging from the cocoon that was Tim’s embrace. Gordon’s shoulders heaved up and down at the sight of her.

“You didn’t need to sit with him. The Dean told me what you did.”

“...Couldn’t leave him alone out front.”

“No.” Gordon sighed, rubbing his hands on his trousers. “Once we’ve got your statements, go home and rest up. Why were you two here anyway?”

Tim looked up, to see the Dean staring at them. He still appeared very much in shock, blank and uninvolved with what had just occurred. Tim’s gaze seemed to animate him, and slowly, like the old man he was, he trotted over.

“They were here…” said the Dean, ringing his hands, “to book their wedding venue.”

Tim gave a strangled noise. He thought the man was here to mock them, to point the finger. His colleague was dead because of their entitlement. Never mind that they could have been told no over email or the phone, never mind that Tim and Stephanie weren’t supposed to be targets until the wedding day… they couldn’t have known. Tim tried to convince himself, otherwise his words to Stephanie of the same fact would ring hollow.

This wasn’t their fault.

Gordon’s nose twitched. “Oh, yes, Babs mentioned that the other day. Congrats you two.”

Sat on the floor, covered in a dead man’s blood, Stephanie could only assume Gordon hadn’t meant his statement to be as ill-timed as it was.

The Dean’s eyes tightened, and he got down to be eye level with the couple still sat on the cold floor.

“I think, I may be acting out of turn here, but please, the 25th of May at two o’clock is a fine time for the wedding.”

Stephanie gave a broken whimper, turning back to rest on Tim’s chest. “No.” She whispered.

Tim ground his teeth together and squeezed her shoulder. Looking at the Dean, he just nodded. They would sort it out later.

Eventually they moved to the pews, which is where Bruce found them an hour later. They gave their statements and were clear to go, but the pair remained, not quite ready to leave. Bruce had a packet of wet wipes in his hands.

Tim felt Stephanie tense next to him and Tim’s own breathing slowed. He couldn’t endure a lecture from Bruce. He was going to bite back the minute Bruce’s tone got out of hand.

To Tim’s surprise, Bruce just sighed, and sat next to Stephanie. Pulling out a tissue, very carefully, he began to wipe the blood off her hands. Tim watched as Stephanie slowly turned towards Bruce, still a little tearful. She was welcoming the affection from him in a way Tim had never seen from either Bruce or Stephanie before. A strange ripple of jealousy migrated through his gut.

Stephanie sniffed a little, attempts to talk choking her throat.

“You said no more deaths.”

“I did…” Bruce sighed, though it did not sound like he was angry. Disappointment was there, because of course it was, but it was somewhat tempered knowing that the pair were undoubtedly crucifying themselves regardless of his opinion. “But I said you were to leave the investigation to me. I missed this. And now a man is dead. And it could have been you.”

He handed the tissues to Stephanie so she could clean her face. She smiled weakly and began to scrub at her cheeks, revealing raw red skin under her makeup.

Tim pinched one for his own hands. “Any news on that front? What did you find from the vantage sight?” He asked, trying not to sound too aggressive.

“…Whoever it is. They aren’t leaving anything behind. But I have a few leads. The designer and her boyfriend, the main pair…”

“She and our wedding planner were the only ones who knew we were coming here today.” Stephanie whispered.

Bruce nodded. “And the Bishop and the Dean…” He said, turning to see that the Dean was nowhere in sight. “But I don’t think it’s the Dean.”

“Somehow I doubt Mrs Van Rijk is responsible either.” Tim muttered.

“Did Cassandra say anything? About this morning?” Stephanie interjected.

Bruce gave a look which suggested Cassandra had said a lot of things.

“I’m needing a plug on her phone. She doesn’t have any private social media, nor email. That partner of hers… There’s been multiple incidents of the police called out to her residence in the past for domestic disputes.”

“Same boyfriend who won’t stop calling her?” Tim raised his eyebrow as he asked. It seemed obvious to him who was behind it. Abusive boyfriend couldn’t let his girlfriend be independent of him. Why was Bruce messing around?

“Needs confirming.”

“But –”

“You’re better than this Tim. Circumstantial evidence is not enough to build any case on.”

The insult threw Tim down two or three pegs. He loathed to be spoken to like that. He was better than what? Himself? Was it just another dig at how Bruce thought Tim was slipping?

Bruce sighed once more. “On a grimmer note. This whole event… it seems you did the right thing, trying to help Bishop Sherborne. Comments online have been very sympathetic and praising.”

“We didn’t even do anything.” Stephanie pled. Her face was turning a milky shade of green.

“Regular civilians comforting a dying man in his last moments is not something to be sniffed at, nor is running into the building to try and find the shooter.” He looked at them both individually, trying to make them understand. “And seeing through having the wedding here of all places.” Bruce paused, looking around. Tim believed this place held nothing but bad memories for him. How it must have seemed like Tim and Stephanie were spitting on his parent’s graves. “Shows you’re not frightened. People like that.”

“It feels manipulative… to use his death for our benefit…”

Tim just sighed. “Maybe. But it’s all to catch this murderer.”

Stephanie turned back to look at Tim. “All of it? Really?”

Tim struggled to reply, and Bruce took that as his signal to go. “Will you go back to Park Row? Or with me to the manor?”

Tim kept his and Stephanie’s eyes locked when he muttered. “We’ll go to mine.”

“Very well. I’ll see you tomorrow. No night job tonight. Try to sleep.”

With Bruce gone, Tim picked up a clean wet wipe, and gently began to stroke places Stephanie had missed on her own face. One place on her neck, he knew from experience used to make her sigh and close her eyes when he used to kiss or stroke it, and sure enough, she shut her eyes and began to relax bit by bit as he cleaned her up.

When they did return to Tim’s apartment, Tim took an almighty gamble.

“I know we said I would sleep on the sofa whilst you were here but… Steph, you okay to be alone tonight?”

She screwed her eyes shut, standing at the entrance to Tim’s closet. She had on her pyjamas and was squeezing her teddy like it was a stress ball.

“When was the last time you slept? All the way through the night?” She asked, refusing to answer his question.

“A while.”

She was trying to make the situation about him, deflecting and pretending her feelings didn’t count for as much as his. He grumbled to himself, knowing it was not a productive way of coping.

Stephanie smiled at him, trying to be cheeky, but it fell flat. “Then… you can stay. It’s a big bed anyway. If you have a nightmare…”

“If you have a nightmare…”

“We’ve never slept in the same bed before.” She muttered as she clambered in. Fluffing up her pillow, she rested down, laying a little bit like a corpse in a coffin. Tim very quickly joined in on his own side.

“We have.” He disputed.

“Not like this. Under the covers.”

Tim wiggled his eyebrows, and Stephanie snorted. Her laugh very quickly became sombre. Tim pressed his cheek down on the pillows. Already under the covers it was becoming warm with her lying next to him.

“Thank you, Tim. For today.”

“It wasn’t our fault.”

“No. But I freaked out.”

“You’re under stress.”

“And you’re not?”

“Everyone reacts differently to trauma and –”

“Sweetheart…” She kissed his cheek, and Tim fell silent. The gaze she received could only be described as adoring, and she hoped her own expression was equally smitten. “All these excuses you give me…”

She shifted, moving closer and closer until they were laying inches apart, practically sharing their breath. Her hand crept up, cradling his cheek. Gulping a little, Tim moved as she bid him. She shifted the pillows, propping herself up enough that her torso was above the sheets, but still shallow enough that she could sleep. She cradled Tim, pulling him so his head rested on her stomach. Both hands curled around his head, one stroking his hair, the other his exposed cheek

“I’ll sleep when you sleep, okay?”

The only sound in the room that Tim could make out was her muffled pulse and breathing. He was warm. He had been given something he had been craving since it had been taken from him years ago, only to not realise until recently how much he missed it. He inhaled deeply, distantly smelling the candy scented soap she used, and closed his eyes.

In his own bed, surrounded by Stephanie, and exhausted beyond measure, it did not take long for Tim to fall asleep, nor did it take Stephanie long to follow suit. She’d have a horrid sore neck and headache the next morning, but it was nothing one dose of painkillers wouldn’t mask.

The pair slept a full eight hours. No nightmares.

When Tim woke up to the natural morning light drifting through his curtains, and a blonde messy lump next to him, he tried to stop himself from crying. The emotional relief was so sharp, so intense, it nearly overwhelmed him.

He could do it, he told himself for the thousandth time. He could show her. This was how it was supposed to be.

#tim drake #stephanie brown #timsteph #dc #my fic tag

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snelbz · 5 years

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Broken Vows {Nessian Tag Team Oneshot}

A/N: So @tacmc and I were both feeling very angsty yesterday. We were working on a couple fluffy oneshots and realized “Wow, we are not in this kind of mood. We need to break some hearts.” So, we decided to start with Nessian. Enjoy the angst. And look forward to another angst, coming tomorrow from Tara’s blog!

When she came home, she nearly tripped over the duffel bag in front of the door. It caught her off guard, so heavy that it almost was immovable. She also noticed that the house was silent. No music was floating down the stairs from his office as he worked.

“Baby?” She walked through the foyer, glancing into the living room and finding it empty, and entered the kitchen. His wallet and keys weren’t on the counter where he always left them. She called, “Cassian?”

A slight squeak from the ceiling was the only indication he was upstairs.

She ascended them slowly, cautiously. “Cass? What are you doing?”

He sat on their bed, his head in his hands. His hair was loose, falling in his face, and he was wearing his boots. He never wore his boots in the house unless he was just getting home or was getting ready to leave.

She froze in the doorway. Her voice was caught in her throat.

She whispered, “So that’s it? It’s over?”

He shook his head, refusing to meet her gaze. “I love you, Nesta...but, I just can’t do it anymore.”

She hated herself for crying, for the tears that pooled up in the corners of her eyes.

“How much longer were you going to wait before you just left?”

“I would’ve never left you without an explanation,” he said, voice low, “and you know it.”

Nesta had gotten hung up at work again. It was the fourth night this week, the fourth night Cassian had eaten dinner alone. It sure as hell wasn’t the first time and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.

But Cassian was tired of being her last priority.

He wanted her to have her job, and he was so proud of her for all of her accomplishments. But, when her work day was done and she chose to stay at the office for another two hours, three hours, four hours...it became too much. She didn’t want to come home to him. At least, that’s what it felt like.

“Fuck you,” she whispered.

“I wish you would,” he said, finally looking at her. “Then maybe we wouldn’t be like this. It’s been 8 fucking months, Nes. Did you realize that? It’s been 8 months since you let me touch you.”

She quickly looked away from him, his gaze making her grow nauseous. She hadn’t realized that. She knew it had been a long time, but...that long?

He stood, not coming any closer, yet still towering over her. “Is there someone else? Is that it? Is there someone that’s giving you something I can’t?”

She snapped her eyes to his, glaring at him and clenched her fists. “You know that I would never-.”

“I don’t know that, Nesta.” He cut her off. “I don’t even think I know you anymore.” She didn’t say anything. He spat, “If you’re getting fucked on your desk after everyone leaves for the day, it should at least be fucking me doing it.”

Her sadness quickly turned into anger. “How fucking dare you accuse me of something like that? Fuck you!”

It was all she could think. Cursing at him, cursing his name.

Her hands were shaking as she approached him.

She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it and held her wrist with such a gentleness that it caught her off guard. His voice was deathly soft when he asked, “Yes or no; are you fucking someone else?”

“No, you asshole, I just said-.”

He interrupted, “Do you want to fuck someone else?”

The question made her pause in her rage.

“Of course not.”

He let go of her wrist. “Then what did I do, Nes? Is it just my body you don’t want or is it my heart, too?”

“I-“ she stopped. She didn’t know.

Cassian was the perfect male. Kind, sexy, generous, loyal, trustworthy….she loved him, but she pushed him away.

She promised herself she wouldn’t.

And she had failed.

“This is ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head, stopping her thoughts in their tracks. “You wanna leave? Leave!”

“That’s the fucking thing, Nes, I don’t want to! But you’re making that decision for me.” His hands gripped her waist and she suddenly found it hard to breathe, the contact almost too much to bear. “You aren’t giving me a choice!”

Nesta continued to stare up at him, unable to form the words from the thoughts in her head.

“Fucking say something,” he whispered. “Anything, please.”

“I’m not going to beg you to stay,” she said, voice smaller than he’d ever heard.

He watched her. He watched the tear that slid down her cheek, watched how her jaw locked up.

“Then I guess that’s that,” he breathed.

He stepped around her, grabbing his keys off the dresser, and walked out into the hallway. After a few seconds, she heard the door open and close.

It didn’t open again.

Nesta stood there, alone in their bedroom for what felt like ages, but may have only been moments. She glanced at his nightstand, expecting to see his books and things on top. But it was all gone. The smooth surface was bare, save for one small object in the center. She crossed the room and looked down, feeling like she’d been punched in the gut.

His wedding band was all he’d left behind.

——

Cassian didn’t make it far.

He drove down to the stop sign at the end of their street and put the car in park.

She didn’t fight for him.

Hadn’t wanted to fight for him.

And it had broken him more than all the other shit had.

He knew she was being honest, that there wasn’t anyone else. That had almost made it worse, knowing that she just wasn’t willing to try for him.

He punched his steering wheel, listening as a sickening crunch came from his hand. He violently swore and pressed his head to the steering wheel, trying to breathe, trying to will away the tears that threatened to fall.

Not from the pain in his hand, but the from the emptiness in his soul.

A horn sounded behind him and he snapped his head up and put the car in drive. He drove to the only place he could think of and knocked on the front door.

Azriel swung the door open. Shock was clear on his face as he asked, “What the hell happened to you? And is you hand broken?”

Cassian swept past him without answering his question.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He asked, plopping down on his couch.

Azriel was still in his doorway when he hesitated. “I- Okay.”

Hel closed the door and went into his kitchen, returning with a frozen bag of peas. He handed it to Cassian, who wrapped it around his swollen hand without a word. His phone was on the coffee table in front of him and he didn’t tear his eyes away from it.

“I’ll be right back, I need to go tell Elain that you’re here.”

It was then that he registered what his brother was wearing — or what he wasn’t. Only a pair of jeans, unbuttoned, slung low on his hips.

Cassian swore. “I’m so sorry, Az, I didn’t-.”

“She’ll understand, you know that. Just- just give me a minute.”

There was nothing but kindness in Azriel’s voice, but Cassian still felt guilty. He ruined their night.

And he’d ruined his marriage.

Except he didn’t know how he ruined it.

Only that he’d driven the final nail in the coffin tonight.

When Azriel came back, his jeans were buttoned and a sweatshirt was pulled over his messy hair, covering his recently bare chest.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked, entering the room.

Cassian flexed his good hand, his left hand, and looked at the bare strip of skin on his finger. “I left her.”

Azriel stopped where he was striding for the couch. His eyes were wide. “You left her? You left Nesta?”

He could only nod, only look at the pale band of skin. “I asked her if she was fucking someone else. She said no. I asked why she didn’t want to be with me, and she didn’t answer. And then she said she wouldn’t beg me to stay. So I left.”

His voice was flat, cold. It was emptier than Azriel had ever heard it.

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to comfort his brother, didn’t know how to make it right.

He sat down, slowly, on the opposite end of the couch. “You still love her, though.”

It wasn’t a question, so Cassian didn’t answer. “I don’t know what to do, Az.”

“Cassian?”

Both of their eyes shot to the top of the stairs, where Elain stood, wearing nothing but Azriel’s shirt. Cass blushed at the intimacy of the moment he’d intruded on. She came down the stairs when she saw his face. “Is everything okay? Where’s Nesta? Is she okay?”

Cassian swallowed, his throat tight, and looked away. He gripped the peas on his hand even tighter. “She’s fine, she’s at home.”

“Oh, thank the Cauldron,” she breathed. She glanced at the clock, the late hour. “Not to be rude, Cass, but why aren’t you at home?”

“El,” Azriel cautioned.

Cassian didn’t hesitate when he said, “I left her.”

His voice was flat again, but when Azriel looked at Elain, get delicate hands were shaking.

“What did you say?”

He hung his head as he said, “I left her, Elain. It’s over.”

Quiet footsteps padded over to him and he saw her pretty, pink toenails stop in front of him. He glanced up at her, just in time to see her hand pull back.

The crack of her hand against his cheek was earth shattering.

Azriel was instantly up, instantly had his arm around her waist and pulling her away.

“How dare you?” She cried, raising her voice, which was so unlike her. “How fucking dare you?”

“Elain.” Azriel was trying to get her to look at him, but her caramel eyes were locked onto Cassian.

Her voice was deadly soft as she said, “Get out.”

“Elain, stop. Cassian, you don’t have to go anywhere.” Azriel was between the two of them now. One hand gripping his fiancée, the other outstretched toward his brother. “El, come talk to me upstairs.”

Elain gave him one last searing look before she turned and went back to their bedroom.

Azriel looked at Cassian. He was still staring at his phone.

“She knows something I don’t,” he whispered.

Azriel glanced up the stairs. “I’m sure she does. She’s her sister, man.”

“And I’m her husband.”

And he didn’t know a thing. He didn’t know a thing, because no matter how much he tried and begged and did his best to make her happy, Nesta shared nothing with him.

He was nothing to her, and that much was obvious.

Alone in Azriel’s living room, Cassian cried, angrily, bitterly. He was furious. He was heartbroken. He was lost, left feeling hopeless.

He wanted his wife.

He wanted the woman he’d fallen in love with, the woman he’d married.

And he wanted that woman to love him back, as she once had.

He woke up the next morning to the sounds of pots and pans being thrown around in the kitchen. He sat up and wiped a hand down his face. He winced when he realized he could barely move it. He got up off the too small couch he’d slept on, raising to his full height and stretched. He felt the bones in his neck and back grinding.

He walked into the kitchen and found Elain, dropping a pan into the sink. It clanged against the metal surface.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Oh, did I wake you?” She asked, mock innocence in her voice.

With Azriel at work, he realized he had no allies in the house. “Yeah, but I need to get to the gym. Make sure everything is running well.”

“Yes, you do.”

The note of finality in her voice had him going back into the living room, picking up his phone and pulling his boots on. He left without another word.

When he got in his truck, he realized he could no longer close his fist. He would have to go to the hospital before going to work.

So that’s where he went, driving way below the speed limit. He felt empty. Numb.

He wanted to see Nesta. He missed her. He’d been away for less than a day, and the distance was agonizing.

Even if they hadn’t been intimate in months, she’d still slept in his arms every night. She still kissed him goodbye every morning as she left for work. He still loved her, with every fiber of his being.

They didn’t ask any questions at the hospital, not when they learned he owned the largest gym in Velaris and he’d told them he was training a bit too hard in the sparring ring. They reset the bones and wrapped it tightly. It didn’t feel good, but he was relieved the numbness in his soul didn’t extend to his body.

He got to the gym, nodding his greeting to everyone before locking himself in his office. He sat at his desk and let his head fall in his hands again.

He’d lost his wife.

He’d lost the love of his life.

And he didn’t know what to do.

——

The day passed by slowly.

Nesta had called out of work, hadn’t left their house all day. Maybe she should have told him. She hated herself for feeling the need to be so closed off, even with him. She hated herself for letting things get so bad, for neglecting him to the point that he felt unloved, unworthy.

That had never been her intention.

She couldn’t lose him.

A knocking on her door after lunch pulled her from her thoughts as she stared at the wall above her television.

She opened the door and found Elain. She stood there, her purse slung over her shoulder, a bottle of wine in her hands. Pity on her face.

Nesta took one look at her sister, one look at the only person who knew what she’d been going through, and burst into tears.

Elain led her back inside and took her upstairs. When they entered the bedroom and Elain found the bed untouched, still made from the day before, Nesta whispered, “I can’t sleep in our bed without him.” Elain glanced at her. “I slept on the couch.”

Elain sat on the end of the bed, the bed that Nesta had shared with her husband every night they’d been together. “You never told him, Nes?” She shook her head. “You don’t think he deserved to know that you were trying to start a family?”

She shook her head. “He would’ve been crushed if he found out.”

Elain frowned. “Nesta, he loves you. And he thinks you don’t love him anymore.”

Nesta stopped. “How do you know that? How do you know any of this? Have you talked to him?”

“Because he showed up at my house last night and he was a wreck. He still was this morning when I made him leave.”

Nesta was quiet. “You asked him to leave?”

Elain, sweet, loving Elain, had ice in her voice when she said, “He told me he had left my sister. I’m sorry I couldn’t find any sympathy for him.”

“I still love him,” Nesta breathed. “I’ll always love him. He’s my whole world. I want to give him the family he’s always dreamed of, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that. What if he won’t want me if I’m broken?”

Elains eyes softened. “He wants you, Nesta.”

Nesta looked down at her hands, and the bitten down nails she had spent all night destroying. “I’m scared.”

There it was. The words she’d never said aloud. The fear had been eating away at her for months, not allowing her to enjoy life, to enjoy her husband, the person she loved more than herself.

Elain took her hand. “I’ll go with you, if you want to see someone. If you want to get some answers.”

She squeezed Elain’s fingers in thanks, but shook her head. “I love you for that, but you’re not the one I’ll need with me.”

She nodded, pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek and stood. “He’s at the gym, by the way. Or the hospital, either one.”

Nesta’s eyes went wide as she asked, “Hospital?”

——

Cassian was looking at some expense report his assistant had pulled together for him for the third time, not able to process anything he was looking at, when he heard the voice raised in the hall outside.

“I don’t give a shit what he’s doing, he’s my husband, and I’m going back to see him.”

He was up from his desk and walking to the door when it burst open.

She stood there, hair piled on top of her head, in jeans and a t-shirt. So informal compared to how he usually saw her in her suits. Her eyes roved over his body but settled on the wrapped and braced hand at his side.

She breathed, “What did you do?”

He scratched the back of his neck. He wanted to run to her, lift her off the ground, spin her around and press his mouth to hers. But, instead, he said, “Got in a fight with my steering wheel.”

She didn’t say anything. She simply shook her head, eyes beginning to water. “Do you have time to talk?”

He walked past her and shut the door. She heard the lock click. He went to the window overlooking the gym below and twisted the blinds shut. They were completely blind to the outside world.

He sat down on the couch against the wall, rather than back at his desk. “If you’re here to finish shredding my heart, I’d rather there not be any witnesses.” His voice was so empty, it nearly brought her to her knees.

She’d done this, she did this to him, even if she didn’t intend to.

“Cassian,” she breathed. “I….I’m sorry.”

She almost choked on the words, and Cassian could tell because the tension in his shoulders faded, just a little bit.

“I love you,” she said. “I love you so much. I don’t want to lose you.”

He said nothing.

He just stared at his broken hand.

“Was it something I did?” He asked, quietly.

“No,” she breathed and she walked to the couch and sat next to him. She took his hand, battered and bandaged, into her own, so she could focus on something that wasn’t his face. “It’s me, baby. It was all me.”

Her fingers carefully brushed over the wrappings. He could feel her featherlight touch through the bandages. He didn’t say anything just waited for her to continue.

He didn’t miss the fact that she was still wearing her wedding set, while his was missing from his finger.

Regardless of the fact that she’d pushed him away, it still felt like a betrayal.

“I….don’t think I can have kids,” she said, hardly more than a whisper. “You want a family, but I don’t think I can give it to you.”

The words hung between them, heavy and, in a way, damning. When he didn’t say anything, she waited. Waited for him to tell her to leave, that she wasn’t worth anything to him.

His finger was under her chin, forcing her to look at him, to look into his hazel eyes as tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“That’s why you’ve been pushing me away? Because you think you can’t give me children?”

A broken sob was her only answer.

She was wrapped in his arms before she could say anything else, pulled into his lap as if she were a child. “I don’t give a damn if you can’t have children. We can adopt or not. We don’t have to. We can be that couple who has lavish things and brags about our extra money.” He pulled back to look at her. “I love you, Nesta. If you were to bless me with children, I’d be so honored, but if I spend the rest of my days loving you alone, I have no problem with that.”

Her face fell into his chest. His grip only tightened.

“I love you,” he repeated. “I love you so much.”

She didn’t speak, because she couldn’t say a word. She had spent her entire life hiding. Hiding from her emotions, hiding from her failures, putting on the perfect show.

“I wanted to have kids,” she began, once her voice became steadier. “I wanted to have kids, and I wanted to give them to you. But it never happened, and I just...our future wasn’t so sure anymore.”

He stroked her hair with his strong hand. “Our future isn’t set in stone. When I married you, I vowed to take each day as it came. You’re my entire world, Nesta.” His voice broke on her name. “I shouldn’t have left.”

Her own voice was a whisper when she said, “I didn’t even ask you to stay. I practically pushed you out the door.”

“No, Nes, no, I should have-.” His words were cut off as her lips were pressed against his. Her fingers dove into his hair and she resituated herself until she was straddling him on the couch. She felt his wrapped hand pressed against her back, pulling her as close as he could.

The feeling of his hands on her body after so long was intoxicated. She felt lightheaded and drunk on his kiss.

This is what she had pushed away, out of fear.

Their clothes were shed and he laid her back on the couch, sharing breath and desperate kisses as they were joined in the most intimate way. Whispered praises and confessions were the only distinguishable noises, save for their heavy breathing and the noises that fell from their lips as they found their release together.

He kissed away the tears that had fallen, as she clung to him, refusing to let him pull back, pull away, pull out.

She just kept repeating, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, quietly, longing for his wedding band that was, no doubt, still sitting where he’d left it at home. “I love you.”

They laid there, quietly, resting in each other’s arms as the afternoon passed by.

No one knocked on his office door, no calls came through on his phone. They were alone in the world, in their own bubble.

“Do you-,” she began, but she choked on the words. Her chin wobbled as she said, “Do you think we should get a professional opinion?”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “It wouldn’t hurt, but that’s your decision, baby.”

She nodded. “I want to know. I have to know.”

He brushed his finger down her cheek. “Whatever they say, it’s okay, okay? It’s you and me, no matter what.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He smiled, his chest feeling a little bit lighter when he said, “Okay.”

______

One of the perks of owning your own gym was being able to make your own schedule. Cassian never worked on Saturdays, he never had. Even during their dark days, he was always home, always there with her.

So when he got an phone call asking him to come to the gym, that it was an emergency, Nesta was almost positive the building was on fire.

“I’m sure everything’s fine, just need to go deal with a few things.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and left her in bed, which was where the majority of their time was now spent.

The news that they would never conceive their own child was not only a blow to Nesta, but also to Cassian. It wasn’t only her body keeping them from having children, it was his as well.

Many tears had been shed, sorrows drowned in bottles of wine and they found themselves in each other.

They looked for the silver lining in it all though, grateful that they had their answer.

They also took full advantage of the fact that no protection was ever needed.

Ever again.

Once Cassian left, he hurried to his car and sped to the gym, nearly unable to control his excitement. His knee was shaking, his heart racing.

Nesta was going to fall in love with him all over again.

When he pulled into the gym parking lot, Azriel was sitting in the bed of his truck with Elain and a small, golden ball of fluff.

Cassian stopped the car, basically falling out of the door.

“You got him okay?” Cassian asked, in way of greeting. “No trouble?”

Elain laughed, softly. “No trouble. He’s all yours.”

Cassian took the puppy off of Azriel’s lap and put it against his chest.

“Hi, buddy,” he said, scratching behind his ear as the puppy leaned up and tried to lick his face. He laughed and clasped Azriel’s outstretched hand. He looked at Elain. “You’re sure about this?”

She nodded, grinning. “She’s always wanted one, she’s probably going to cry,”

“That’s not the goal, but as long as she’s happy, I’m happy.” He opened the passenger door and set the pup in a box he’d snuck out, with one of Nesta’s favorite blankets. He immediately burrowed down and snuggled into the blanket.

“Thank you,” Cassian said. “Really. Thank you for helping me.”

Elain just nodded before kissing Azriel on the cheek. “Well, go! Don’t stand here with us. Surprise your wife!”

Cassian laughed, plopping into the driver’s seat.

“Alright, pup. Let’s go surprise mama.”

He pulled his car into the garage and picked up the puppy. He poked his head into the house and listened, not hearing any noise. “Nes?”

Silence.

As he carried him inside, he let a small bark! out and Cassian shushed him as he scratched the back of his head. He nuzzled into his hand as he started up the stairs.

He found Nesta exactly where he’d left her, in bed, but she’d fallen asleep with her face buried into his pillow. He smiled as he carefully tiptoed around to his side of the bed and set the puppy down in front of her. He immediately walked to Nesta and began sniffing her, before nuzzling in between her arm and the bed and curling up.

The fur tickled her face and Nesta began to stir.

“Cassian,” she mumbled. “You really need to shave. Your beard got really soft, though.”

The puppy began licking Nesta’s cheek.

She scrunched her nose. “Your breath smells like shit.”

Her eyes slowly opened. Cassian hadn’t even realized that he was holding his breath.

She was looking up at him, but when another small lick brushed her chin, she gazed down.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Cassian…”

“Not exactly the baby I hoped to give you, but I figured…”

He trailed off, watching as the puppy climbed on top of her.

He was wagging his tail wildly.

“He has no name,” Cassian continued. “It’s all you. Name him whatever you want.”

Nesta paused, looking down at the puppy who had begun squirming in her arms. “Milo,” she said.

Silver lined her eyes as she placed the puppy gently on the bed beside her and jumped off the bed, into Cassian’s arms.

He wrapped his arms around her bare body and pressed his mouth to hers, softly.

“I love you,” she breathed, clinging to him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, baby,” he whispered, setting her back on the bed. The puppy bounded over to them, immediately jumping on Nesta again, trying to lick her face.

Nesta laughed, the most mesmerizing sound that Cassian would ever hear, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Their little family may not be large, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t strong.

#nessian #tag team prompts #tag team oneshot #throne of ashes and beauty x tacmc collab #acotar #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian angst

482 notes · View notes

mizmahlia · 5 years

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From the shadows, she brings light

Summary: The last thing Jason should be doing is fighting after being injured in a dust-up on a job with Roy and Kori. But the thing about Batkids is, when family is on the line? They don’t care.

AO3

Jason hadn’t meant to stumble into Bruce’s business, but as luck would have it, that’s exactly what happened.

He was only in town to check in with several of his paid informants and recover for a few days after the latest job with Roy and Kori. The job went a bit sideways and he and Roy were a little worse for wear, but it was nothing that some ibuprofen and a few nights’ sleep in his own bed couldn’t fix. He lost track of how many ribs he’d bruised over the years, but if he had to guess, his answer would be north of three dozen.

The small tear in one of the muscles in his rotator cuff, however, was another story. As long as he wasn’t doing any heavy lifting, that would heal on its own in a couple of months.

So imagine his surprise when he came across a brawl on his way back from the grocery store, one involving Batman and a dozen members of Black Mask’s merry band of morons. They were in the lobby of Gotham First National Bank across the street and Jason watched as Bruce took down two men who’d raised shotguns in his direction, two perfectly aimed batarangs embedding themselves deep into the biceps of both men. The guns fell to the floor and Bruce carried on dealing with the other men who were still conscious.

Jason willed his feet to get moving again, but his gut feeling kept him planted where he stood.

Not your problem, Jason. He’s a grown-up and can handle himself.

One of the goons tumbled through the plate glass window and landed on the sidewalk, groaning before he fell unconscious.

See? He’s only got what- six men left?

He knew Bruce hadn’t seen him yet, and he turned to continue walking home when a white panel van turned the corner, rubber squealing on asphalt. He ducked into the entryway to the post office and stood in the shadows, watching. Four men got out, two of them carrying a heavy box between them.

“Hurry up, Sal! We gotta get this inside. Grab the detonator and follow us. The guys have Batman busy.”

Jason narrowed his eyes as he watched the first two carry the explosive device into the bank, setting it in the middle of the lobby. Idiots three and four followed right behind with the detonator cord and switch.

“C’mon, B. Turn around and catch these guys before they set it up,” he muttered. Bruce was still tied up with four or five men across the lobby, though they were taking longer and longer to get back up after he’d knocked them down. Ten years ago, this fight would have ended before Jason even got there. But now? Now things took a little longer.

He heard the beep of the timer being switched on. His jaw clenched and a knot formed in his stomach immediately.

He instantly made up his mind and set down his bag of groceries. There was a spare domino in the lining of his civilian jacket and he never left his apartment unarmed, so while he wasn’t necessarily battle ready? He had the basics and could hold his own. He chambered a round in his .45, fixed the domino over his eyes and stalked across the street.

The men with the explosive didn’t hear him approach and with the electricity out, they didn’t see him, either. He cracked one of them across the back of the head with the butt of his gun and when another turned to throw a punch, Jason caught the arm and twisted. He fell to the floor with a shriek, cradling his broken arm, and that’s what got Batman’s attention.

Bruce turned and when he saw Jason standing there, he tried to hide his surprise, giving Jason a tight nod and gesturing to the vault with his head. Jason reciprocated and nodded toward the explosive device, watching Bruce turn on his heel and sprint toward the vault in the back. Jason knelt next to the device and looked for a way to disarm it. He holstered his gun and sighed to calm himself down, tracing the wires from the explosive to the detonator. The tangle of wires and switches he saw meant one thing.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Whoever these idiots were, they had someone incredibly intelligent help them construct the bomb. The circuits were collapsible, and if he tampered with any of them, it would go off and kill anyone left in the bank. There were three minutes left on the timer and no sign of Bruce, though he could hear the fight even from the lobby.

He’d give him two minutes, max, before he went back and hauled Bruce out himself.

Jason focused on dragging the unconscious men outside and across the street, securing them to light posts and parking meters with zip ties. Once the lobby was clear and the timer was down to a minute and forty-five seconds, he jogged back into the bank.

“Bats? C’mon, old man. We’ve gotta get out of here.”

There was nothing but silence and Jason felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. By his count, they had less than ninety seconds now.

He rounded a corner and the vault came into view, and with it, he saw Batman lying on the floor. There was a broken office chair next to him and the cowl had a nice crack along the back of it. He jogged down the hall and rolled Bruce over, wincing at the bruise along his jaw. He was out cold and nothing Jason could do would wake him up.

Under normal circumstances, he would have simply picked Bruce up and hauled him out of the bank in a firemen’s carry, but with his injured ribs and shoulder, there was no way in hell he’d be able to heft all of Bruce’s 220 pound frame, plus another thirty pounds of armor and equipment, up off the floor.

As quickly as he could, he ripped the cape off Bruce’s back and rolled him onto the leather side of it. The smooth side that faced inward would slide easily across the floor.

Jason held his breath and dragged him back down the hall and out into the lobby. The timer was down to thirty seconds and he started to panic. He wasn’t going fast enough to get them clear. Even if he left Bruce behind, he likely still wouldn’t get out in time.

The edges of his vision began to darken, and his hands went numb as the panic attack started. He kept dragging Bruce across the lobby, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as the effort tore muscle fiber even further. It gave way with a loud pop and Jason cried out, collapsing in a heap twenty feet from the door.

Twenty seconds.

“FUCK!” he screamed.

He did his best to cover Bruce’s head and torso with his own body, hoping he could take the majority of the blast. Jason tucked his face into Bruce’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut.

Not again notagainnotagain…

He yelped and bolted upright when a small hand tapped his shoulder.

“Brother. Let me help.”

Jason turned to see Cass, in full Black Bat regalia, crouched in front of him. He bit his tongue to stifle a sob as he nodded, crawling to his feet. With his good arm he helped Cass drag Bruce out of the bank and across the street as the timer hit ten seconds.

Cass drew a batarang from her belt, tapped a button and threw it into the bank. Jason frowned.

“What the hell was that for?”

He could tell Cass was smiling beneath her mask, and he turned to see the steel security shutters slam shut. Seconds later the bomb went off and the building shook, but the shutters contained most of the explosion.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” he muttered. He leaned against the building and tilted his head down, trying to catch his breath. He still held his arm against his torso.

“You’re hurt,” Cass said. He shrugged the uninjured shoulder.

“He’s hurt worse.”

Bruce groaned, but remained unconscious. Jason could hear sirens in the near distance and wanted to get the hell out of there before they arrived.

“No, stay. Come home with us.”

Jason shook his head softly and turned toward his safe house. The absolute last place he wanted to be right then was the Manor.

“No thanks, kiddo. Call the batmobile and get him home. I’ll be fine.”

Cass moved and stood between Jason and his exit, her hands on her hips, chin tilted defiantly.

“Wasn’t a request.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, knowing full-well she’d kick his ass six ways from Sunday if he tried anything, injured shoulder be damned.

“It’s not home for me.”

Cass reached forward and took Jason’s hand, squeezing hard.

“Can be, if you want it to. He needs you. We all do.”

Jason turned his head as the car came around the corner, stopping at the curb. She nodded her head and he helped her get Bruce into the car. She stood back as the door closed, pointing to the driver’s side.

“I’ll stay. You go. Meet you there.”

Jason folded himself into the driver’s seat, leaning back against the head rest. A weary smile stretched its way across his face and he sighed. His shoulder hurt like hell, but he and Bruce were both alive, thanks to Cass.

Even if she couldn’t have beaten him in a fight, he still wouldn’t ever be able to say no to his little sister.

When he finally got back to his safe house the next evening, there was a surprise waiting for him on his kitchen counter with a note on the paper bag. The childlike handwriting made Jason smile.

Not only had she saved his life and Bruce’s, she’d also brought him the bag of groceries he’d left behind.

#Whumptober 2019 #whumptober prompts #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Cassandra Cain #Red Hood #Batman #Black Bat #MizMahlia's Fanfiction #Whumptober Day 2

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feyrhycien · 6 years

Text

A Change in the Game - Part 30

Fic Masterlist

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“A tapas bar?”

“A tapas bar!”

Elain’s mouth formed a perfect pink O and Cassian shook his head in disbelief.

“Sevinda’s turning into a fucking tapas bar,” he grumbled. “You can’t be serious!”

Apparently, Sevinda’s place was something of an institution in the Nash household, so growing up there, Cassian had gotten to enjoy Sevinda’s cooking during his teenage years up. It also made him incredibly pig-headed about Feyre’s business proposal. Feyre hoped, Rhys didn’t proof to be equally stubborn about her plans. And then she wondered, how bossy exactly she could be with her boss, who was also her boyfriend.

Feyre gave her friend her best scowl. “Oh, I am serious about this, Cass. If she continues like this, she’ll go under in a few months.”

Cassian’s brows furrowed, but he still looked unconvinced. “And serving tapas will help?”

“Imagine this: yes!”

Cassian snorted and shook his head.

“I’m sorry Feyre, but I can’t imagine it either,” Elain piped up. “Could you explain a bit more in detail?”

Feyre raised her frothy Caramellito Latte and took a sip. It quickly proved to be a mistake, because her overstuffed stomach protested the intake of further food, even if it came in form of liquid sugar and steamed milk with a dash of coffee.

After her meeting with Sevinda, Feyre had met with Elain and Cassian, who she had invited to stake out her next project with her: a coffee shop. Though other than with Sevinda, Feyre hadn’t set an official meeting. She planned to observe the place like a first-time customer would to get a better feel for the place.

“I can’t tell Sevinda to cook less good, because, first of all, that would be a damn shame, and, secondly, I don’t think that’s even possible. Everything was just so friggin good.”

Feyre closed her eyes for a second, remembering the taste. She would need to go back there soon!

“The problem is, her food gives people the impression, they are at a high-class restaurant, but she’s still running a bar. So we need to tone it down a bit. In come the tapas. And I’m not talking classical Spanish tapas,” Feyre explained quickly before Cassian could interrupt her again. “I’m talking Sevinda’s dishes, downsized, so they can be served tapas style. You can order as many or as little as you like, share with friends or eat them all yourself. If you want a full meal, you can order starters, a main dish of meats and some veggie tapas as side dish and a desert. Or you just get one or two tapas as a snack to go along with your drinks.”

Cassian cocked his head, deep in thought. “That sounds nice, but I can’t really imagine it. Let’s take her pork roast, for example. How would you present that as a small dish?”

Feyre sighed sweetly, thinking back to the pork roast. “That pork roast is perfect!”

“Yeah, I know. But how would you make it into tapas?”

“No, I mean it is perfect for the concept!”

Feyre excitedly dug through her purse and pulled out her iPad, unlocking the screen. She put the device on the table, showing Elain and Cassian the hurried sketch she had drawn earlier.

“See? You make the dish into two tapas. One is only meat and sauce and the other is a bowl of roasted root vegetables. You can order them together or separately. Or you order something else to go along with the roast, maybe a potato salad. Alone, let’s the tapas range between 5 - 9 €. When you order meat and a side of veggie tapas together, you end up with a full dish and the price would be around what you would normally pay for a normal dish.”

“Only, people will tend to order more than two tapas, because the tapas look smaller than a full plate,” Elain mused.

Feyre grinned at her sister. “Exactly! Or they just order one or two. People are more flexible in what or how much they are eating this way, which makes it less like a restaurant−”

“And more like a bar,” Cassian finished. He looked impressed.

Feyre nodded eagerly. “Right. The atmosphere will be more relaxed. And Sevinda will have more choice to play with the menu that way. She can switch out certain tapas according to the season or what is available on the market at the moment. She said she liked to experiment and change the menu often.”

Cassian leaned back in his seat and raised his coffee for a toast. “Damn woman! That’s actually a very fine idea you’re having there. Although I’m still not convinced on the pork roast.”

“What’s with that pork roast?” Elain asked with a frown. “Is it really that good?”

“As Feyre said, it’s perfect.” Cassian let out a moan. “It’s rich and juicy and so tender, it melts in your mouth. Like, you don’t need to cut it with a knife, you can just pull it apart with your fork. And the sauce!” Cassian moaned again. “It tastes better than anything I ever tasted. Even better than Nesta’s kisses!”

Feyre was about to tell Cassian, he was being utterly ridiculous, but before she could, a strong wave of nausea rolled through her. Alarmed, Feyre slapped her hand in front of her mouth and fought to keep the vomit at bay.

“Feyre, you alright?”

Feyre shook her head at Elain and swallowed heavily. “Sorry, I might just have puked a little into my mouth,” she choked out.

Cassian rolled his eyes and Elain giggled.

“No, literally. It just came up.”

The playful expression was immediately wiped from their faces.

“Everything ok, Fey?” Cassian asked alarmed.

“Did you get knocked up by your virile boyfriends perhaps?” Elain jested.

Feyre giggled weakly and shook her head, reaching for the water.

“Hey, this is my brother you are talking about, you sexist!” Cassian bellowed in mock indignation.

Feyre and Elain both giggled, but Feyre’s laugh was cut short by another wave of nausea. Moaning, she placed a hand on her churning stomach and pushed her milky coffee concoction a bit further away. Even the smell of warm milk and syrup, it seemed, was too much for her.

“The only baby I’m carrying is Sevinda’s food baby. I’m seriously stuffed. I don’t think I should eat or drink anything but water for the next few weeks,” Feyre declared weakly.

“I’ll let my brother and your other boyfriend know they should refrain from feeding you for a few days,” Cassian offered.

“Speaking of boyfriends and feeding, I should go soon. Lucien asked me to pick up some groceries on the way home.”

Craning her neck, Feyre looked for a waiter and then signaled for them to bring the check. But when Cassian and Elain pulled out their wallets to pay for their drinks, Feyre announced the drinks were on her. They were still protesting loudly when the waiter came over with the check, but Feyre dismissed their concerns with a wave of her hand.

“Please, I invited you here to help me with work, so coffee is on the company,” she declared confidently, slipping the waiter a credit card that Rhys had given her for business expenses.

“Not one week on the job and already misappropriating company money,” Cassian grumbled. “No wonder Prythian fired you!”

Seeing the waiter’s horrified expression, Elain fought hard to contain her giggle. Feyre’s lips twitched, barely managing to keep a straight face.

“It’s not misappropriation if I declare it as expenses.”

Cassian raised his eyebrow mockingly. “Expenses for what?”

“Market research! You two are my testers.” With a smile to the waiter, Feyre accepted back the credit card and took the pen the waiter handed her to sign her receipt. “And I never needed to take money from Prythian. They gave it to me willingly to finally be rid of me.”

Cassian and Elain burst out laughing, completely throwing off the waiter, who cast highly nervous glances around the table while trying to be subtle about it. Feyre gave him back the pen with a wink and a generous tip and stowed away the receipt for the accountant.

They said their goodbyes outside and Feyre leisurely strolled towards her car, making good use of the opportunity to move her sluggish body. She still felt nauseous, but the movement and some fresh air helped.

However, by the time she reached the guys’ apartment, arms packed with groceries, her nausea had come back full force. Feyre barely managed to unlock the door and deposit her bags in the kitchen, when the urge to vomit hit her like a literal punch in the gut. Sprinting towards the bathroom, she managed to bend over the toilet just in time before everything she had eaten that day made its way forcefully into the porcelain bowl.

With tears stinging in her eyes and bile stinging her throat, Feyre flushed the last of Sevinda’s now-not-so-delicious meal and sank back on the cold bathroom floor, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on her brow. Something was off. She must’ve caught a stomach bug or something. Sure, she had overeaten today, but that shouldn’t have caused her to vomit like that. Feyre overate on a regular basis since she had started to practically live with her boyfriends. They cooked so damn well and sure liked spoiling her.

Leaning her head back against the tiled wall for a moment and closing her eyes, Feyre took a deep breath, trying to calm her stomach. She still felt sick and the taste of vomit and bile in her mouth didn’t help the matter. But she didn’t want to get up and rinse her mouth just yet, too afraid that sudden movement would result in more retching.

“Feyre, are you home?” Lucien’s voice echoed through the hallway.

Too weak to answer, Feyre remained still and instead listened to Lucien make his way to the kitchen, cursing when he stumbled over the grocery bags she had merely dumped onto the floor before sprinting off. She heard the sound of opening and closing cabinets, the rustling of the paper bags and agitated steps flying around the kitchen and send a silent thank you to Lucien as he put the groceries away.

“Feyre?”

Forcing her eyes open, Feyre found Lucien standing in the open doorway, frozen in shock.

“Hey fox,” she greeted him faintly.

As she had feared, her stomach made a point of acting up with even the slightest movement of her body and Feyre scrambled to get on her knees again, bending once more over the toilet. Lucien immediately snapped out of his stupor to kneel beside her and pull back her hair from her face, but nothing but spit and bile came up. After suffering through a few painful waves of dry-retching, Feyre sunk exhausted against Lucien’s chest.

“Love, what happened?”

“Must have caught a bug. Or food poisoning. I visited some food places on Velaris’ list today.”

“And that included eating?”

With some effort, Feyre detached herself from Lucien and looked up into his face with a weak smile. “As you know, I follow a strict hands-on approach, be it with business or colleagues.”

Lucien didn’t look amused. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and on the couch.”

Pulling her up from the ground, Lucien helped Feyre over to the sink and only left when she assured him, she could manage to wash her face without him hovering over her like a helicopter. Threatening to be back in a second, Lucien went to their bedroom to fetch some comfortable clothes for Feyre to change into, while she splashed her face with some cold water and brushed her teeth.

But even after she had rinsed and spit the last vestiges of toothpaste into the sink, she still felt like she had a nasty taste in her mouth, so Feyre scoured the cabinets for some mouthwash she thought she had seen earlier this week. It wasn’t in the mirror cabinet, where she thought it had been, so she went through the cupboard under the sink−and froze.

“I hope these are alright? Yours are still in the laundry.”

As promised, Lucien was back in a flash, carrying a pair of soft grey sweatpants that looked like Rhys’ and a T-Shirt she liked to wear when she was over.

“Huh?”

Slowly, Feyre tore her gaze away from the cabinet and turned to Lucien. Her heart hammered heavily in her chest, pounding so hard, she could hear her blood thrumming in her ears, cancelling out all other sounds.

“The sweatpants? Yours are dirty. Will these be okay? They are a bit big.”

“Yeah sure.”

Lucien’s brow furrowed even further, noticing the open cabinet. “Are you looking for something, love?”

“Mouthwash. I need to get the taste out of my mouth.”

“Oh, it’s empty. Rhys’ used the last of it yesterday. I put it on the shopping list. Didn’t you get any?”

“No. Yes?” Feyre couldn’t remember. “Didn’t you unpack the bags in the kitchen?”

“I only put away the things that need to be cooled.” Stepping closer, Lucien deposited the clothes on the now closed toilet seat and pressed a firm kiss to Feyre’s forehead. “I’ll go check.”

Feyre nodded, too preoccupied with her own thoughts than to really take in what Lucien was saying. As he left the bathroom, her gaze returned to the object that was the cause for the numbing fear that had settled over her.

A box of tampons.

Tampons she ought to use by now but didn’t.

Because her period hadn’t come.

Did you get knocked up by your virile boyfriends perhaps?

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amytaylcr · 5 years

Text

needs & wants

TAGGING → @casskaykingston LOCATION → Amy’s apartment TIMEFRAME → Thursday, January 24th

The day seemed to drag on unbearably long that Thursday night. Having a steady job, getting accustomed to working nine to five every day was an effort, even for those who liked their job, like Amy. Not only did it give her a sense of purpose and accomplishment, but it provided her with new challenges, new obstacles to overcome and focus her energies on, and it had honestly been so long since the last time she had that that Amy was reminiscent of a child about to enter Disney world and have the time of their life. The company at work was no small feature, either, as Annabel didn’t make it feel like a chore, like something that had to be done, but rather something you wanted to do. It was a talent not many people had, the knack to inspire the same kind of loyalty and devotion in others as one felt, and Amy counted her blessings for hounding Sydney at the gala about her former job. Brooks’s younger sister might have left some big shoes to fill, but Amy had every intention of living up to that legacy and making her own. It was what she had been craving for in her life in such a long time that it seemed impossible to tear her focus away from it, even in the romantic department.

Yes, the new job and the new apartment had brought about some new challenges to her dynamic with Cass. The choice of place for sleeping over, dinner date, or just regular hanging out had always fallen on the blonde’s property for the simple reason they didn’t really have anywhere else, and it was the perfect space on top of that, too. Now, however, there were two variables in that equation, and choosing one wasn’t as simple anymore. They both had jobs, obligations, habits that were not easily broken, and though Amy’s were very much in their infancy, they had the special brand that came with life-changing steps. They were, however, working out a system and it was that which found them in the kitchenette of her new apartment that evening, cooking dinner and sharing stories.

“So, yeah, long story short, I’m kinda thinking Claire and Anna are perfect for each other and I can’t wait to see what happens there,” Amy finished her bit about setting up her two friends as she diced tomatoes above a salad bowl as Cass tended to the shrimp frying on the stove. “Oh! And, oh my god, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this,” she turned excitedly to her boyfriend, a bright, conspiratorial grin tugging at her lips. “Remember how Andrew and Iris attended the gala for all of five minutes before Iris got sick and they had to leave? Well, guess who was right in their assumption that our dear friend has another bun in the oven!” The playful wiggle of her eyebrows was clearly meant to suggest that the answer was Amelia Taylor.

It's a funny thing when something you're proud of someone for getting, something that makes them so happy and makes you happy in relation, still has the power to make you kind of sad. That was the tricky relationship Cass now had with Amy's new job and new life, though his complete feelings on the matter he'd never disclose to the woman currently making dinner with him, hair that now brushed her shoulders in a messy bun while she makes dinner with him. Amy's hazel eyes shine as she talks, their conversations during dinner one of the things he never really expected to look forward to and love so much. They got to discuss their days while doing something together, time with her that Cass found even more precious now that their lives had adjusted to first her new job and then her new apartment. What had first had a simple answer, his place, had changed into two possible ones, a development that, while he didn't begrudge her, he did miss her. Missed the guarantee that if she was spending the night, it would be in his bed, wrapped around her in sheets that smelled like them, waking up to her gorgeous face. Missed her making his place feel more like home than any other he'd been. As selfish as he felt on the inside, Cass let none of it show on the outside. He committed her new address to memory, brought over clothing to fill a drawer at her place. There were no limits of compromises he'd make for her, if Cass was being honest. And he was proud of her. So proud. Even if it tasted bittersweet.

He pushed his turning golden shrimp around the pan with a spatula, the sizzle and scent of the spices a pleasant background to their conversation, the sleeves of a forest green button down rolled to his elbows. A chuckle leaves Cass's mouth when he hears more about the diabolical plan of setting Anna and Claire up, though he's a supporter of the plan. "Me either. Please keep me updated if Claire doesn't." His deep voice rumbles, popping a shrimp into his mouth for taste. Turning to her, he chokes for a second on it when Amy adds that Iris and Andrew are, in fact, expecting, an altogether too familiar feeling spreading through his chest. First joy, reflecting how happy he was for them, and then longing, a gut punch that he'd long since trained not to show on his face. "That's amazing. I'm sure the two of them are over the moon." Cass gets out once he swallows, keeping the touch of sadness out of his smile better than he usually could when keeping things from her. A shake of his head at the eyebrow wiggle and he turns back to his food, not wanting to make it burn. Fighting on the inside for a moment, unsure of what to bring up, words come to his mouth unbidden. "You remember the conversation we had when we were becoming friends? It's crazy how much has changed since then." Sure he might be trying to lead to something, but the thirty two year old man wasn't wrong. Everything, it seemed, had changed since then. Maybe Cass was just curious as to how much.

Back before Cass, in those dark days when she had been condemned to just her own sour company, Amy never minded other people’s business. Her logic seemed simple enough: if she stayed out of theirs, they would stay out of hers and that was that. And then Cass came along, cracked open the hard shell in which she had cramped herself, and somehow that little world was no longer enough for her. The happiness he brought her was unparalleled, and she only wanted all of her friends to experience that same level of joy themselves. If they needed a little nudge on that, well this Amy was more than happy to oblige. And the fact that Cass enjoyed a little gossip and match-making himself only bode well for them. They were always down with another couple to hang out with. And, secretly, Amy hoped for the strain that existed between Cass and Anna due to his dumb, alpha male behavior would eventually be put aside for something akin to friendship. She could hardly think of two people less hardwired to hold grudges than Anna and Cass, after all. “I’ll keep you posted,” she said with a wink, snatching a piece of tomato and popping it in her mouth to munch on. Her appetite had also suffered some changes with the growing happiness: her love of food and intake growing in proportion with the smiles on her face. Playfully, she smacked Cass’s behind when he stole a golden shrimp, mostly because he hadn’t offered her a bite and not that he’d done it in the first place. “Hey, thief, leave something for the rest of us.”

Oblivious to all that was going through Cass’s mind, Amy walked over to the fridge and pulled out some lettuce and got to sprinkling some more on top of the salad bowl, nodding her head eagerly. “They are. And I am, for them. Sophie’s gonna love having a sibling, too,” she added with a soft smile, thinking about the little girl, the spitting image of Iris (and Harlow, Andrew’s sister, as most people agreed). The trip down memory lane was not uncommon for them, usually one to bring them joy as they reveled in all the obstacles they’ve overcome with time, but in this particular instance Amy wasn’t entirely sure which conversation he was referring to. “Which one was it?” She wondered idly, adding a dash of olive oil to the salad. “We’ve had a few, you know.”

How his girlfriend managed to be sexy and adorable at the same time, Cass didn't know. But she did it effortlessly, much the way she had since the first time she'd fully relaxed around him, a memory that he cherished. She winks at him, sampling their dinner wares, and his heart makes like a helium balloon once more, a reaction that only Amy and Hudson seemed to easily draw forth from him. He receives the butt slap with a chuckle, inwardly still pleased she thought he had a cute butt. Everyone liked compliments after all, and Cass was no exception. "I'd like to see you make me. Don't judge me for trying to make sure my half of dinner is good, okay?" The tall man responds with a quirk up of his lips, light catching on his sky blue eyes. Two chews and a quick swallow and Cass can tell that they're done, moving the pan to an unused and unoccupied burner, turning off the one he'd used, wiping his hands on her dishtowels. As happy as he is for Sophie having a sibling, Cass's mind is on other things now, striving to explain a subject he's not sure how to bring up. Especially since Amy didn't seem to know where he was headed. Leaning against her counter, arms folded, Cass rubbed a hand on his bearded chin. "We have had a few." His deep voice concedes. "But specifically, when we talked about kids. Wanting them or not. Remember?" He did. Even if the memory did not kill the daydreams of a family that his mind liked forming, Cass did. Never let it be said that the man doesn't listen.

“You know I’d do it and probably succeed so don’t test me, Kingston,” she said pointedly, following her warning with a wink. Between the two of them it was difficult to say whose competitive streak was worse, and they tended to like making games out of these challenges that rose out of nowhere. Many a time it lead them right into each other’s naked embrace and for some much appreciated sexual release, and who could blame her for inching them closer to that divine ledge? Especially when it would steer them far away from the topic Cass was trying to start, sending her heart into a frenzied, hammering pace, and sinking her gut to the soles of her feet. Kids. Damn it, she really had to bring up Iris and the baby on the way? Cass and Amy had gone three months without tackling the subject and she was more than fine with it going unaddressed for many months to come, but she knew Cass had other plans. The look in his eyes, the cold hard steel behind the azure of his gaze always a reminder she couldn’t weasel her way out easily. “I remember,” she nodded her head, grabbing the salad and taking it to the small table by the wall where two plates had already been set for them. “It was the first time I’ve had your mother’s strawberry lemonade and it changed my life for good.”

As much as Casfs liked to test her, to see how far she wanted to push things and respond in kind, he didn't want that right now. If she pressed hard enough to distract him, the broad and built man would have caved as he always would, weak at the hands of her dimples and smile. This was a topic that meant something to him, an issue he held close to his soul and meant something to his future. Their future. Even if the two of them didn't like conflict, even if he knew this might not be a topic Amy particularly wanted to talk about. Cass transfers the seafood from the pan into a bowl and follows her, his gaze saying things that his mouth hadn't yet. She tries to change the subject subtly, a compliment that, if she'd heard it, Olivia would glow to hear, but Cass is stubborn. He doesn't want to avoid it. "That it did. I also seemed to remember that you said you couldn't imagine yourself having kids." Amy had also called her life a mess, and that was something that it wasn't now, as she'd gained all sorts of things since then. So sue him if he wanted to know if her plans had changed. Much in the way his had morphed when they'd gotten together. "Do you still feel like that?"

The competitive streak wasn't the only thing they seemed to be tied at. Their stubbornness was also a quality in which they matched each other perfectly, in that they were both so persistent with what they thought and wanted that it was near impossible to break the vicious cycle of back and forth. Amy was reminded of it all yet again when Cass pressed on with the subject of children, even though he must have caught onto her attempts at steering the conversation away from it. Knowing it would be impossible to avoid now, Amy chewed on her lip as she took her seat at the table, noodles already split between their two plates, and she added the shrimp on top of it, biding her time. "I haven't thought about it, Cass. I don't think about it. I'm trying to take my life one step at a time, and not drive myself crazy with plans and thoughts about the future that can only go awry once I think of them." It might have sounded harsh, admitting she still refused thoughts about the future even when they snuck up to her in the middle of the night, especially to the man who could very well be at the center of that future but it was better than lying to him. Better than pulling wool over his eyes about matters she wasn't ready to face only to let him down later on.

If Cass had been an animal, his hackles would had risen at the quiet and yet not so quiet defensiveness in her tone that arrives with her response, delivered only after bought time. Once again, she was cutting off their possibilities, placing a restriction on what their relationship could be. Could grow into. Words drift to him, reminders of a time in a different kitchen when she'd claimed "if they were together". This was a different, far more serious handicap. The thirty two year old man knows the tells of the woman he loves by now, registers the currently being abused lip and lack of eye contact as uncomfortableness and defensiveness, and if it had been another issue, he would have backed down. That day, however, wasn't today. He takes the other seat, dark gold beard framing lips that thinned in a touch of consternation. "I'm not trying to make any plans. But we can't even talk about it?" He presses slightly, gripping his fork. "It's not a step we'd take anytime soon, if at all, so no plans are going awry. I want to talk about it. At least open the discussion." Yes, Cass is pushing harder that he normally would. But, also, yes, he doesn't agree that she gets to single handedly end their conversation about it because she doesn't want to to think of the future because dammit Cass does. 50% of who'd be sharing that future wants to know.

Gone was the lighthearted atmosphere that prevailed when they were preparing the meal. They laughed, joked, talked about things that didn't seem to matter but still needed to be said, and Amy relished in those easy moments. Her shoulders were relaxed, her smile quick, and there were no worry lines etched into her forehead. But a weight, dark and heavy, hovered above them like a rainy cloud as Cass pressed on with his questions, and panic rose in her chest, swift and consuming as ever. The future, that darkness she could never see into, not even a glimpse. No, that, was a lie. She could glimpse shapes and silhouettes now that Cass brought life into her life, but she was still feeling her way through the dark, keeping her eyes shut closed. Was it loyalty to Brooks, or was it maybe fear of losing it all once again? The white picket fence, the plans for the future, the children and a storied life she would share with them? Laughter wheezed out from her chest, near hysteric and defensive. "Cass, come on. We've been together for three months. Are you not happy with how things are?"

Now, a bit, he realizes how naive it was for him to think their problems would fade after they said those all important three words. I love you was the beginning of new stages, new conversations, ones that Amy did not want to talk about or have for reasons that still eluded Cass's mind. Would he have to run into another burning building to open the possibility of kids? Did she always need a huge event to prompt accepting or embracing whatever next step they could take? Amy’s laugh is too high pitched, too strained, a far cry from the light giggles she'd been making not fifteen minutes before. He's silent for a moment, blue eyes locked on her face and the gaze that wouldn't meet his, a breathe pushed roughly out between his lips. "Yes, I'm happy-" Although I'd be happier if you were the home I always got to go back to. "-but that's not why I want to to talk about kids. I'm not saying let's go make a baby right now, I just want to know if you've pictured a future with us that includes another. I want to have the conversation, even if you clearly don't want to." It sounds more bullheaded than Cass thinks he means, but it's out there now, fingers wrapping too tightly around the utensil. Somewhere in the back of his head a little voice asks if this is a fight and if this has been the longest they've gone without one of these. And if they'd ever stop coming. His heart stuffs a gag on that voice’s mouth, but the question lurks, remaining, if Cass ever decided to acknowledge it existed.

When they started preparing the meal, the delicious smells of food wafting through the air, Amy worried they did not buy enough for the both of them. She was so hungry, ready to wolf down more than her share of the meal, and her stomach made it known more than once during the cooking stages. But now that they were sat at the table, the food cooling on their plates, her insides were all knotted up, twisted in ways that would prevent food from ever reaching its destination. Anxiety seized her gut, clenched its cold, hard fist around her throat, and despite the pleasantly warm temperature of the apartment, her palms were cold and clammy. The idea of putting food into her mouth had never been less appealing than in that moment as Cass, once more in the course of their relationship, tried to move them forward and Amy stomped her feet stubbornly in place. No, I'm not moving, the stubborn, petulant child within her wanted to scream as Cass pulled her forward closer to where he was at. The proclamation of his happiness didn't feel real whatsoever when uttered in that frustrated tone, and she caught lightning flash in the stormy blue of his gaze, making her aware of the nerves she struck. Would they ever move at a pace that worked for the both of them, or were they doomed to taking one step forward and two steps back every time they wanted to make progress? Though, in all honesty, it felt like Amy was taking her steps but Cass was leaping over his own and expecting her to follow suit.

"Of course I've pictured a future, Cass," she snapped, setting down her fork and instantly regretting it. Without the metal object to close around, her hands now trembled, begging for something to steady them. "But a future that's within the next few months. The 'what are we going to do for Valentine's Day' kind of future. Or 'where our next trip might be'. Kids? I haven't thought that far ahead, and I'd love it if you didn't push me on this one and let me come to it in my own time, for once." Another regret, one she couldn't take back, no matter how harsh the words.

In her own time. The last time he'd stepped back, let her have the reins, all of it, it had been months before he'd seen her again in any sort of positive way. It was easy to lose sight of those cold weeks, his downward spiral and painfully slow climb back up in the face of the happiness he'd been experiencing recently, leagues more than he'd ever thought he'd have. Said happiness wasn't quite in the room right now, an example of looking a gift horse in the mouth and pushing to talk about things that perhaps a more sensible person could see might be too soon, but that was not the man at the table with Amy. This one had more clear-headed thoughts blocked by the fog of a ticking clock, each tick a reminder of the time slipping out of his grasp. Their food quickly becomes a background to the discussion they're sharing, forgotten on their plates after all the warm and golden feelings that had surrounded the making of it now nowhere to be fine. A slice of flint slides into his clear blues when Amy moves straight from panicked to accusatory and testy, his legs shifting uncomfortably under the table and lips thinning out more. She wasn't going to make this easy, he could see now. A prickly situation he had no one but himself to blame for, blame that would for certain make itself known once the red had faded. "Okay. So if it's in your own time, when is that? Next month? Next year? I'm not asking you for promises or definitive plans, I just want to open the goddamn conversation." He exclaims, frustration curling up into words, letting go of the fork so he can fold his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry I don't give you enough time to respond to the steps my heart is taking without you. And thanks, so much, for letting me know that a month is the farthest you can plan in advance with me, even after everything."

Wasn't it enough, all the steps she'd taken to recovery, all the effort she put into getting better, into being ready for something good in her life? It wasn't all for Cass, no, the majority was for herself, but he still played a significant role in the ordeal. He was the nudge she needed to break out of the prison she's held the key to all this time, he was the one who made her feel like she was worth all that she had denied herself, and yet every time she offered him an inch, he wanted to take a mile it felt. Perhaps it was necessary, otherwise they would not have moved at all, but was it really this urgent? To talk about children and a future three months into a relationship? Yes, it's been going on for longer than that if she dared to consider the weeks of happiness preceding the darkness of the late summer, but it was still the speed of light compared to what she was used to. Cass barricaded his heart folding his arms on his chest, and the thin line of his mouth threatened to swallow his lips entirely as he processed her insensitive words. How did they get there, when not ten minutes ago they were smiling? Was it all called for, or did something altogether different elevate the stress levels and bring them to the ledge far sooner than it would have under any other circumstances?

Amy shook her head, a humorless laugh parting her mouth. "Don't do that, don't put words in my mouth. I said months, and even that is leagues beyond what I had been capable of doing not too long ago. Why can't that be enough? I'm not you, Cass. My dreams right now are about staying sober, staying clean, keeping my job and my life in line, being happy with you just as we are. I can't put a timestamp on when I'll be ready, it's not something I can predict. And what if I'm never ready? You want to open a discussion, but you don't want to hear that I might never be in the same place as you are, and I don't want to tell you that."

Amy wasn't wrong. You'd have to pry Cass's mouth open and drag the words from his lips if you tried to make him admit this at this very moment, but she'd made leaps and bounds from the person he'd known even six months ago. The Amy he'd met at that fence side had grown into this one before him, now possessing a normally happy aura if he was involved and much more open heart wise and life wise, the journey from accusing him of making her forget Brooks to willingly, occasionally, telling him she loved him, one she'd done with him at her side. He, however, had had none of the romantic hang ups that she did. He hadn't realized it then, but he'd wanted to fall in love, thanked all the good luck that gods had given him for this incredulous chance to drop in his lap, this incredible woman that he was a goner for. Even now, when she was starting to get on his nerves. He didn't want to wait anymore. Was this really too big of a thing to ask? "You only specifically mentioned Valentines, which isn't even a month away. It's barely three weeks away. I didn't say you were me," he insists, with exasperation, gripping his other bicep, brows an unhappy goldenrod line. "You don't know all my dreams. I share those dreams with you. I also want you sober and clean, kicking ass at your job and in your new apartment." The apartment you chose that's farther from me than I'd like. "Why can't talking about kids be an achievable dream? No matter what I want to hear, all I want from you is the truth. If we don't have a discussion the conversation is dead before we even get to it. I don't need you to predict a time that you're going to want to have kids, I just want you to agree to talk about it. Why are you so afraid to talk about it, Amy?" A slip of the tongue, but a tell all the same. One that said that this, Cass and Amy at her apartment, dinner abandoned between them, was a fight. One far unlike the others they'd had.

Amy. If there had been any confusion before about the argument they were having, it was all gone now with the nickname falling in his deep timbre like a wedge that inflated and grew between them. Somehow, when he helped her move in a few weeks ago, carrying the sofa that was sitting opposite them now, she felt closer to him with the chunky piece of furniture blocking her view than she did across the table from him now, with nothing but their sheltering arms between. His full name fought to be heard once or twice during her bouts of talking, but Cass was the first to break the ice and take a sizable bite of her heart with it. This was an argument, one they haven’t seemed to have in a while, but the good streak couldn’t go on forever. The puzzle pieces had all began to fall into place and it was only a matter of time before one of them stuck out like a sore thumb. It only caught her off guard that it was the Cass piece of it all that did that, the one she felt so certain would give her no more grief after the holidays and the trip that liberated a confession of her feelings from her chest. How wrong she was, though...

“No, I said Valentine’s and trips we might take as in places we’d see together, experiences we’d have together. I’m sorry if that doesn’t satisfy your criteria of thoughts about the future, Cassidy.” She caught the ball he threw at her and was ready to serve it back over the net for him, the food before them forgotten in the light of their disagreement. “No, if we don’t have a discussion the conversation is waiting for a time when we’re both ready to have it. It’s not dead, it’s just not being forced on anyone who can’t fathom the idea of kids right now. You know why I’m afraid. And three months with you, no matter how incredible, can’t uproot a decade and a half’s worth of worry and fear. Until I’m happy with myself, feeling good in my skin, I don’t want to think about a child that I’ll put my worries and anxieties on. I’ve made enough messes in my life. A child— if I ever have one— will not be another.”

How did their relationship manager to mirror Jekyll and Hyde? The happy, loved up and content versions of themselves were Cass and Amelia, more laughter then they ever thought possible, tender and hungry kisses, no weight on their hearts. That was not the existence Cassidy and Amy got to enjoy, tongues that mirrored knives, physical separation that felt like an ocean of choppy and dangerous water between them, stubbornness and hurt. Love ran thick through all versions of them, an emotion that could never be removed from them, not any more. Cass didn't know why their periods of intense happiness tended to be punctuated by these, fights, big ones about their fundamental differences and all small ways that they didn't fit that grew so overwhelmingly big. He just hoped that one day, they'd stop. Please. He wants to be happy with his girl, that's it. Rationally, he knew that these things happened - two people who'd been on their own for more than a decade couldn't adjust to major positive life upheaval without having some bumps and bruises. This bruise, however, felt like it'd be hurting for longer than Cass wanted.

"Okay I didn't - I didn't say it didn't-" Cass tries to interrupt, mouth snapping shut when Amy calls him by his full name, shooting his dreams (and peace) in the face with each statement. The bearded blondes bottom teeth press into his upper one, unimpressed as he nods slowly. "So what I'm actually hearing is, in this future you've seen for yourself, it involves you only when a kids in the picture, and that's why you don't want it. You think you'd mess up a kid, and in this scenario you'd be alone, and I'm nowhere to be found. You can have that conversation with yourself, but not with me. Great. Awesome." So, so much more wants to spill out. Meaner words, ones he doesn't mean, that have the metallic tang of C.K.'s influence in them, ones he never wants to say, so he decides to take himself out of the situation. Cass moves his hair back from the table, legs scraping for a second on the floor, an uncomfortable noise that doesn't make the moment better. "Life doesn't wait for you to not be a mess, Amy. So you're a mess. I'm a mess, too! You know better than most, better than everyone the issues I had and still have that no one wanted to see before you. I was sleepwalking before I met you again. I still have bullshit I'm working through. So do you. I guess I should feel lucky that you're not worried this relationship in going to turn into a mess too," Cass bites out, standing up and striding to the kitchen, grabbing his keys off the counter. "And no. I don't know why you're afraid because you won't talk to me."

The third to last words kind of explodes out of him, frustration in every line of him. Taking a few deep breaths he braces his hands on the counter, squeezes baby blues shut and counts to three. When Cass opens them, they're clear, mostly, though anger and hurt still swirls through them. "I turn thirty three this year. You turn thirty four. You knew before we started dating, kissing even, that I wanted kids. I don't know how it makes me the asshole, the pusher, to ask that we could at least talk about the vaguest possibility of them. But that's fine," the eldest Kingston continues in a voice that very explicitly says it's not fine. "We can table this until you're feeling happy and good in your skin, though even at the best points in my life I'm not sure I ever reached both of those goals. We'll wait, like we always do, until you're ready. Or when you think you're going to lose me, whatever seems to come first." Silence rings for a moment too long after that last statement, the man who'd said it collecting his jacket, mainly because of what Cass hadn't said - that she wouldn't. Just because he didn't say it didn't mean the truth of it wasn't there, that nothing would ever be enough to push him out if her arms and her life, but the glaring lack of it's auditory realization was a slap almost to them both. "I'm going to go, before I say something I'll regret even more."

The oceanic swirl of his irises turned to cold, hard steel as Amy spat her arguments at him without giving him a chance to interject. He wanted to open the discussion, she thought, but had not considered the can of worms that hid just underneath, and now they both had to deal with it on a night when they were supposed to be happy and relaxed. There was no point to the conversation anymore: the walls had been lifted, the bridges drawn, and the fortresses around their hearts were now impenetrable. Their words bounced off the smooth stone like blunt arrows that had nothing to bite with and nothing to bite into: they talked without hearing, listened without understanding, and their minds had been made up even before the other one's voice quieted down. Communication, what Amy thought they could pride themselves on, now escaped them, and logic, too, gave them a wide berth. This was a conversation of two hurt people, each of their insecurities shining through, and as much as Amy wanted to reassure his place in her life, the future she saw but couldn't accept, the wounds he inflicted needed her attention first and foremost.

"And I didn't say that," she insisted, jaws jutting with frustration. "You're hearing what you want to hear, picking and choosing the parts that will support your own arguments." The accusation, the stubborn line of her lips, the surly turn of her eyebrows all made it known how she felt about their disagreement and what he was saying. "I'm not having a kid with anyone else, Cassidy. You're there if it happens, but I don't know what I want for the future, I just know you're a part of it. I want the good parts we've had, not this crap where we have to lock horns and refuse to budge."

Of course, that was a fairytale no reasonable person ever believed in. Nothing good ever came without something bad following it, a stipulation that loomed and stained. If she wanted the good with Cassidy, she would have to accept it came with the bad: with the fights, the unreasonable and rash behavior, the stubborn view on life that so often clashed with her own. It had to be that way. They were their own people, and Amy had been on her own for so long she forgot how to share herself, to open up and invite others in. Didn't really think there was any good for others to glimpse in the first place. Whatever the bone of contention between them in this moment, however, she had to agree that life wouldn't wait for them to sort themselves out before challenging them again, and she swallowed thickly the lump in her throat as Cass pushed himself away from the table and moved into the kitchen. The distance grew, and with it came a cold breeze that sparked worry deep within her guts. Cass had so rarely pulled away like this, it had always been Amy to draw a chasm between them and dare him to cross it, but now the tables have turned and she sat there, dumbfounded. What was she supposed to do?

The moment of dumbstruck confusion passed, however, as he spoke up in a calmer tone, putting it on her. She knew he wanted kids so she shouldn't have started anything if that was never going to change for her? Is that what he was saying? "And you knew I didn't see kids in my future, much like I knew what your vision was, so who's to blame about starting this all, huh?" She couldn't say what propelled her to make that accusation, but it was out there and she couldn't take it back. The more they argued the less she could tell him why, a lot of it coming down to petty spite. He was pushing her out of her comfort zone, and she would much rather drown than give him a logical explanation now, even if she was aware of how terrible it was.

All of that, however, they could have come back from. All of it, save for the last accusation, the grand finale that Cass saved right before the goodbye. Blinking her hazel eyes at him, paralyzed by the slap in the face he had given her, her fists clenched under the table, nails digging so deep into her flesh that the crescent moons would stay for a long time. Silence fell over them as tears pricked her eyes, drowning the swirl of gold and green against her will. "I'm sorry I'm always dragging you down. Sorry that I'm the anchor that keeps you from realizing your happiness. Sorry that my mental state is not good enough to keep up with yours. Maybe you shouldn't waste your time and wait for me." Restless, shaking with unbridled hurt and anger, Amy pushed herself up on her wobbly feet, grabbed the plate of dinner before her and threw it in the sink, untouched food and all. The crash echoed through the suddenly quiet room, ringing in her ears, a melody to accompany the mocking words he had uttered. "I can't imagine what that might be," she shook her head as she passed him, walking around him to get to the bathroom, the last sound she'd give him that night the sound of the key turning in the lock.

The only thing that interrupted the quick, dumbstruck, disbelieving thump of his heart was the crash of her plate in the sink, the catastrophic end to something that had started so bright and warm. He hadn't meant it. Fuck, to go back, to take back the knives their mouths had thrown at each other, hitting each and every sensitive spot with perfect accuracy. As too far as his jab was about them always waiting on her was, so was hers about leaving her behind, ending it with her, a suggestion he'd been sensitive to since the first time she'd pulled so fully away. The tension in the air thickened and doubled with every moment, right fist holding so tightly to his car keys that his knuckles were white and pain bit into his palm, left fist crumpling the collar of his jacket. Amy disappears into the bathroom, her retreating back and slightly shaking form the last thing he sees, and suddenly it feels like a black hole has been punched in the middle of his chest. Silence reigned but it still didn't cancel the all too loud echo of what had happened, Cass's throat tight and pained. "Fuck." Is all he mutters in his deep voice, gaze dropping to the floor, the last thing he says before heading out her door and slamming it behind him.

#para: needs and wants #ft. cass #bet you thought these two were done locking horns #welP SURPRISE #i hate how stubborn they are sometimes #tldr; they are children who should not be allowed to have serious talks on empty stomachs #cass's parts are blockquoted

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emperorsfoot · 5 years

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YJ Fic #7: “Rebound”

Originally posted on FanFiction.Net on 6/2/12

This one is actually really shitty, so I’m glad I’m posting it during a time when there’s not a lot of traffic. Gives me the opportunity to bury it under other posts before anyone has the chance to see it.

Anyway...

This was originally written before Lagoon Boy got decent screen time and spoken lines. Back when he was still more of a background prop for M’gaan to use to make Superboy uncomfortable.

I mention this because Lagoon Boy is super out of character in this fic.

But I hope you manage to enjoy it anyway.

Summary: “His Angel-fish always seems to moan just a bit louder when Superboy's in the room. -ONESHOT-”

Rebound:

She's my wonderful beloved Angle-fish. M'gann… She sweet-tempered and good-natured. She loves her brother and cares for the Team almost like she's everyone's big sister. But she doesn't kiss like a sister. Oh, no. Not. At. All.

Her kisses the measured, passionate but controlled sort of kisses that leave a man wanting more when she pulls away. …So much more. They're the kind of kisses that almost compel me to beg for more. To get on my knees, press my fins together and plead 'Please, Angel-fish, I need you!' And then when she moans! Neptune's Beard! When she moans… It just makes me want to pick her up, carry her to a room –hers or mine, it doesn't matter- and do all sorts of less-than-honorable things with her.

And yet… I cannot help but notice that she always seems to kiss a bit harder or moan a little bit louder whenever the Superboy is around. –Almost as if she were trying to put on a little show for him.

I asked her about it once, very early in our relationship, in fact. But she denied it. Why would she be exaggerating her feelings for me whenever he was around? She had asked. I was the one she was with. When we are together, it's just about us. Other people are immaterial. This was exactly what I wanted to hear, so I believed her instantly and didn't give it any more thought.

Then I learned that she and the Superboy used to be lovers before I joined the Team.

It was her brother whom told me. –Let it slip was more like it. As if her dating history were supposed to be kept secret.

I wanted to try and get to know the boy better, Garfield Logan, because above all others on the Team (myself included) my Angel-fished cared for him the most. So I endeavored to ingratiate myself to the boy. I admit that I found –and still fined- the overly energetic shape-shifter to be a tad obnoxious. But we both love his sister, and so we both agreed to spend the day together.

It was as we were walking along the beach, the waves lapping at my feet, his zigzagging all over the place changing into crabs, and gulls, and all manner of beach and tide-pool dwelling creatures, that the slip occurred. He was telling old stories about the Team –the first Team. Most of the names were just that, names. I had never met Kid Flash or Artemis and so could not put faces to their names. Kaldu'ram I though I had known very well and still did not believe what Nightwing had told us about him.

I paused in my trail of thought as the boy's last few words sunk into my skull. Lifting my head I did a double take. "What did you say?"

"KF and Arty walked onto the bio-ship and found Conner and sis making out in the captain's chair." Gar repeated in a bit of an irritated huff. Children tended to act that way when they thought the adults around them weren't paying attention.

Then I asked the stupidest question that ever escaped my lips since finishing puberty. "Why was Angel-fish kissing Superboy?"

The little shape-shifter's hands went to his mouth in a near perfect imitation of the 'Speak no Evil' monkey and his eyes went wide. He didn't say it out loud, but I could clearly read it in his face. If M'gann hadn't already told me, then she hadn't wanted me to know and Gar had just let slip something that was supposed to be a secret.

Suddenly, it all made so much more sense. She did kiss harder when he was around. She did moan louder when he was in earshot. She was putting on a show for him. The realization left me with the question of 'Why?' screaming through my mind. Followed closely by, 'Why did she lie when I confronted her about it weeks ago?'

I pondered those two questions the entire rest of the day and when we came back in, I confronted her about it directly. Two simple and pointed questions that summarized my feelings completely.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Superboy dated? Are you just using me to make him jealous?"

There then ensued the first fight we ever had. It was also the longest fight we've had to date.

She called be nosy and over-bearing with no right to pry into her past. I said she was being secretive and that made everything she did suspect. We both said things we regretted. Feelings were hurt. Apologies were made. Things were explained. Some things were understood. Other things I think I will forever be confused about. Most things were forgiven.

But, after much fishing on my part, M'gann finally confessed that –at the onset of our relationship- she had been using be to get back at Superboy. He had been the one to break-up with her and she harbored some resentment towards him because of it. (I did not ask why he broke-up with her.) I told her that she was still my Angel-fish and I loved her, but I refused to be a pawn in her romantic battles with an ex-lover.

M'gann nodded gravely and admitted that I was just supposed to be a fun little fling. She hadn't meant to develop true feelings for me, it just happened. She hadn't tried to use me against the Superboy in several weeks –at least not to her conscious knowledge. That was good enough for me. –At least, for the time being.

Something about the situation still continued to bother me, though.

It wasn't any one thing I could put my finger on. It was just an abstract feeling. A slight chill in the room while we would be cuddling on the couch watching TV. A tingling on the back of my neck or even down my spine when we would sometimes kiss. …And then a punch that landed perhaps a bit harder than was necessary for a simple training exercise. I massaged my throbbing jaw and gazed up at my sparring partner for that session as if seeing him for the first time.

I had come to terms with and made peace with the fact that M'gann had first been trying to use me against him when we stared dating. It had been a conversation spoken between she and I. A peace made between she and I. But there was a third factor that I hadn't considered. A third person I had completely failed to acknowledge.

I waved off the hand Superboy offered to help me up and climbed to my feet myself. Only aster I was once again on an eye level with him did I realize he probably took it as a snub. I should have let him help me, since he knew he had hit harder than he should have (and with his strength, that was not a habit he could allow himself to have). I did not exactly avert my eyes from his, but I did realize for the first time just how unearthly a shade of blue they were and for the first time since joining the Team, I was intimidated.

"Do you know what you did wrong?" He asked.

I looked back up at him startled. Were we really gonna have this confrontation right here?

"You extended your stance to far." Continued the Superboy. "It left your whole left side open. If this had been a real fight, you'd be dead."

Right. Training.

I relaxed and rejoined the others on the edge of the ring.

"Cass! Front and center!" He continued with the lesson as if nothing had happened, and perhaps from his end nothing had.

It was entirely possible that that punch had simply been a miscalculation on his part and not a passive-aggressive attempt to bate me into doing or saying something I'd regret. Come to think of it, from the little I knew of him, Superboy wasn't really a subtle guy. He didn't do 'subtext'. If he had a problem with you, he would state it outright. Not throw sucker-punches when he could get away with it and then sit and seethe when he couldn't.

Still, I resolved to confront him all the same.

Not about the punch. I didn't really care about it that much. But about M'gann. I felt there were words that needed to be spoken between us. It felt almost like one of those strange 'Bro Code' things that is often talked about here on the surface. Truth be told, I'm not to familiar with the concept. I just wanted to make sure one of the senior members –a man was could be considered a mentor (by proxy)- didn't hate my guts. Especially not one with Superman-like powers. I enjoy keeping all my internal organs on the inside. Thank you.

It was several more days until I actually worked up the courage to talk to the man, however.

What can I say? Sometimes I'm as cowardly as a catfish.

I found him laying on the beach –sunbathing. It had taken me the longest time after joining the Team to figure out why he did this, he never tanned. His skin was always the same uniform shade of olive. It never darkened, never blemished. Then someone reminded me that kryptonians gained their powers from Earth's yellow sun. Duh! In the words of my beloved Angel-fish, 'Hello, La'gaan!'

It was approaching afternoon, the sun just beginning to dip closer to the land. My shadow fell over him as I approached.

One crystal-blue eyelid cracked open and stared up at me. I froze in my step.

"You're blocking my sun."

"Sorry!" I quickly jumped to the side.

He said nothing more, his eye once again closing. I felt like I should leave him, let him recharge his solar batteries (or whatever) in peace. But I had come out here for a reason. It was just him and me on the beach. Now was the perfect time to have the conversation I felt were had to have.

I sat down in the sand.

It was low-tide, the waves were nowhere near me and I suddenly wished to feel the comforting cool waters of the sea flowing around me.

He did not sit up, did not even open his eyes when he asked, "Did you want something?"

"No." The word is out of my mouth so quickly I'm unable to stop it. Then I quickly amend, "Yes."

Then I shut up because I'm sounding like an idiot.

Now he does sit up. More of a lean actually. Propping himself up on his elbows, his almost luminous blue eyes fixed me with a sidelong glance, silently asking, 'What do you want?'

There is a beat of silence between us as I realize I have no idea what I wanted to say. Words needed to be spoken between us, this I knew. But what those words actually were was really just an abstract idea in my head. Finally, I decided to just be honest and speak from the heart. It's what my King would have told me to do –had he still been on the planet at the time.

"Superboy, I- I feel as if I should apologize to you." I begin, feeling every bit the fool as it is possible to feel.

"For blocking my sun?" He asks. "You already did."

"No, I…" I'm stuttering like newly spawned guppy and clamp my jaw shut quickly. A moment later I've gathered my thoughts more coherently and begin again. "About M'gann. I want to apologize if my behavior ever offended you. I only recently found out you two had dated."

"I know." He laid back down in the sand. "Gar told me."

"You're not mad?" I ask, skeptical of his calm exterior. I know he is not the subtle type, but I've also been told that he can hold grudges and brood quietly for almost immeasurable expanses of time. I'd rather not have a powerful demi-kryptonian secretly loathing my existence if I can help it.

He once again cracked one eye open at me. "You are not the one who tried to manipulate me into making a scene –several times."

"You knew?"

He smiled up at the sky. "Well, I did kinda date her for four years. It's a little hard to sleep with someone for one thousand and sixty-one days and not get to know them."

"You slept together?"

Stupid question. I knew my Angel-fish was no virgin. We may not have made it that far just yet, but she was far to good a kisser to have never gone farther. Her tongue was to experienced. Her moans to practiced. Superboy young and fit, perpetually in the onset of his prime… of course they had slept together.

That smile changed to a knowing smirk, but he did not look at me when he said, "That's a loaded question."

He was right. And, I quickly realized that, while I might already have guessed the answer, I did not want to hear it. Instead, I returned to the original reason for my coming here. "Will you accept my apology?"

The Superboy missed one… two… three beats before –still not looking at me- he said, "No."

I would be lying if I said this answer did not shock me. He said it with such a calm serenity to his voice, I almost didn't register it as a negative. When my brain finally did process it, all I could say in response was, "Why?"

Now he did look at me once again. The Superboy sat up properly, not propped up on his elbows, but cross-legged –lotus position- in the sand. His crystal gaze was leveled with mine when he asked, "Do you know what it is you're apologizing for?"

My answer was right on the edge of my lips, but I found myself hesitant to answer. Finally, I said, "When we started dating, I was just a rebound. M'gann wanted to make you jealous and she was using me to further that goal. I guess… I'm apologizing for the part that I played in that."

Superboy nodded, not in acceptance but in understanding. Then he continued, "And did you know that's what she was doing before hand? Did you agree to participate in her scheme knowing her intentions?"

"No!" I'm quick to assure him.

"Then you are not the one who needs to apologize." He laid back down in the sand. "It's hot out here, go take a dip in the water so you don't dry out."

It made me feel like a child when he said this and I admit, I was reluctant to comply. But he was right. Sitting in the hot sun on the dry part of the beach isn't exactly the best thing for Atlantian physiology.

I sprint into he waves and splash around for a bit before sitting under the surface and just breathing in the wonderful salty water. I don't really like the waters close to populated centers; it always has a very… unnatural scent to it. But Happy Harbor isn't quite s bad as other places like, say, Los Angeles or New York, and breathing water always comes easier than breathing air.

I take the opportunity to swim a few short laps around the bay. When I come back to the beach behind Mount Justice the sun had dipped low behind the ridge and Superboy is nowhere to be found. That was fine, I supposed. He said I had nothing to apologize for, so I assume that meant that he held no animosity towards me.

It didn't occur to me until I reentered the base that I never got the chance to ask him why he broke-up with her in the first place…

…

END

#lagoon boy #Superboy #Young Justice #season 2 #lagoonmartian #supermartian #RenkonNairu #fan fic #old fic #repost

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yehet-me-up · 7 years

Text

Decisions, Decisions

Pairing: Park Chanyeol x reader (female)

Word Count: 4,247

Genre: angst/fluff

Rating: (F) for fluff

Summary: All your life you’ve wanted to be a singer. And all your life you’ve followed your father’s wishes instead. But a chance encounter at a dive bar in NYC might be just the push you need to chase your dreams.

“I have to get out of Boston, Cass,” you say, your voice high and anxious. A restless energy has been coursing its way through your body all day; a suffocating feeling that’s making you desperate to get away. “Can I come up for a girl’s weekend tomorrow?”

“Heck yes! You know the bed in my dorm is big enough for the two of us,” she says. “Stay as long as you need, babe.”

The next day, after your two hour Economics seminar from hell, you board the train to NYC. Cassie texts that she’s more than ready to help you drink and dance your sorrows away, or to listen and rub your back if you need to cry and talk. You talk practically every day, but right now it’s just not enough. You need her real arms around you, feeling lost and unmoored and needing something tangible to anchor you.

You spend the entire train ride fighting off tears. Three and a half years of college and four before that in high school, you think, barely paying attention to the scenery as the train speeds along. Seven and a half years of working your ass off as an AP student, honors society member, and an Econ major, just months away from graduation.

The thought of spending another two and a half years, finishing your degree and getting an MBA, not to mention a lifetime after that, working for someone else’s dream makes you sick to your stomach.

Your father insisted that you major in something practical and he’d steered you toward his chosen path with hints both subtle and not. He couldn’t care less that all you’ve ever wanted to do is sing, and hadn’t cared since you’d first expressed the desire in middle school.

All throughout high school it had been a knock-down, drag out fight. A choir class for you, an internship with a local marketing company for him. The spring musical for you, AP Macroeconomics for him. A weekend visiting your aunt in LA to meet with a vocal coach, two weeks during the summer building houses to buff up your resume. And it hadn’t let up once you started college.

For years you’d been fighting him tooth and nail, wondering desperately why you couldn’t have Cassie’s parents. She’s studying screenwriting at NYU and her parents are thrilled. But she could be studying plant biology or dentistry or underwater basket weaving and they wouldn’t love her any less.

I wonder what that’s like, you think bitterly, trying to discreetly rub your tears away with the edge of your sleeve. Your mother just goes along with your father, not wanting to choose sides in the fight, picking your father by deferral.

You close your eyes and lean back against the seat, sighing heavily. It’s not that you hate Econ, or that you don’t see the value of education, or purposely want to not follow your father’s dream. You know he comes from a place of love, wanting you to be financially secure and stable - it’s what every parent wants. But why can’t he also want me to be happy, too? you think miserably.

It’s been over a year since you sang – the toll of classes, internships, and MBA applications over the summer and fall had cast a dark cloud over your life. It’s as if the frustration and apathy you feel towards your life had robbed you of the words that used to flow effortlessly from your lips.

The train pulls into the station with a jolt. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and join the crowd piling onto the platform. In seconds you see Cassie, dressed in an enormous sweatshirt, holding her arms out to you. Fresh tears blur your eyes as you dash into her arms.

“Oh, babe. It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s going to be all right,” she says soothingly, squeezing you tight as you drop your forehead to her shoulder.

You let out a deep sigh, leaning into her. You’ve been so busy with class and your most recent internship at LNG Financial that it’s been weeks since you’ve seen her in person. But now that you’re here, squeezing her tight, the combination of your best friend and your favorite city in the world is already starting to ease the ache in your heart.

Pulling back, you let her put an arm around you and guide you from the station. She knows you’ll talk when you’re ready; with a friendship as deep as yours she knows what you need without your having to ask.

The city is alive on this early Friday evening in early March. The streets are packed with tourists and locals alike. Winter is just starting to fade and spring is on the horizon and it feels like something in you is thawing as well. You can finally breathe, miles away from school and Boston and that constant feeling of drowning.

“I can’t do it,” you say suddenly, turning to look at Cassie as you wait at a stoplight for the traffic to slow.

“The MBA, you mean?” she asks, no stranger to your hatred of your father’s chosen path for you. “Wait, did you hear back?” she asks, her eyes going wide.

“Yeah. I got in,” you say, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

You’d pulled up your phone yesterday morning on the way to class. Anyone else would be popping champagne, crying tears of joy, if they found out that they got accepted into one of the top MBA programs in the country. But the email had felt like a punch in the gut and you’d looked around, wildly wishing you could be anyone else, just for one day.

“Oh god, did you tell him yet?” she asks, bracing herself.

“No. But if the eighteen voicemails I have right now are any indication, he’s been trolling the website and knows that this is the week I find out,” you say with a surge of frustration, stepping out into the intersection in a huff.

“Why don’t you just tell him no, hun?” she says delicately, taking large steps to catch up to you. “You know how I feel about this, just come live here with me after graduation. You’re twenty-two. He can’t dictate your entire life.”

You sigh and look up – the stars are just barely visible in the growing darkness above the lights of the city. “I know. But I can’t seem to get over this need for his approval; I can’t explain it.”

She nudges you with her shoulder. When you look over she’s giving you a sympathetic smile. “He’s your dad. Of course you want to prove yourself to him. But it’s your life too, you know. You deserve to be happy.”

You wrap an arm around her waist and grin as you reach the door to her dorm. “What would I do without you Cass?”

She ruffles your hair and you groan at her. “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out,” she teases, dashing up the stairs ahead of you. She turns around on the first landing, her hair flying around her face as she leans down to you with a wink. “And I have just the place to go to tonight to take your mind off of things.”

“It’s perfect,” you say with a grin, sweeping your hair behind your ear as you look up at the entrance.

“Karaoke night – your favorite. Do I know you or what?” she says with a wink as you hand your ID to the bouncer.

The inside is dark, crowded; hot from the crush of people inside fighting to get to the bar for a drink. You and Cassie both draw stares, dressed in matching dark jeans and v-neck black shirts. The attention is energizing; the dance of attraction is just another form of performance, after all – and you’ve always been a star. Finally at the bar, you both order drinks and move to find a place to stand.

A narrow table along the wall opens up and you dive after it. As you sip your drinks, a familiar warmth starts to flow through you, happiness once again taking up residence in your heart as you get into the karaoke.

The singers throughout the night vary in success. Perpetual favorites like Don’t Stop Believin’ and Sweet Caroline get the usual applause and you cheer along with everyone else, invigorated by the collective sense of excitement. A group of college guys get on stage and belt out a terrible off-key version of Baby Got Back, to a solid minute of cheering.

Cassie excuses herself to the bathroom and you do a sweep of the bar. You’re here for some girl time, not to hook up; but it doesn’t hurt to look. The requisite hipsters at the bar, some college guys in the corner staring up at the screens showing a football game.

A tall man at one of the pool tables catches your eye, and not just because of his lanky figure and leather jacket. He’s laughing at something his friend’s doing – a shorter, blonde man who ducks down below the table. You feel yourself smiling in response - you just can’t help it, he exudes joy and amusement even from across the bar.

His friend retrieves a ball from the floor and starts talking rapidly in his defense, which only further draws laughter from the object of your attention. As if pulled by your stare, he turns in your direction, his dark eyes widening slightly as they meet yours. His gaze rakes your body. His eyes meet yours over the lip of his drink as he takes a sip, an eyebrow quirking up with interest.

You confidently return his look, leaning on your elbow on the table and cocking a hip out. He brings his drink back down, revealing a flirtatious smile. He leans over to say something to his friend, his eyes never leaving yours. The shorter man turns to look at you and grins widely, smacking his friend on the shoulder. Just as he pushes off the table to move in your direction, Cassie comes back in a wave of excitement.

“So you’re either going to love me or you’re going to hate me,” she says breathlessly and grabs her drink, downing a huge swallow.

“What do you mean?” you ask, staring back across the bar at the tall man. He gives you a friendly raise of his glass and settles back against the pool table to wait.

“Alllll right ladies and gentleman, put your hands together for our next singer, Y/N!” the announcer on stage calls in a theatrical voice.

Your jaw drops and you finally turn to look at Cassie. She gives you a nervous smile and shrugs. “It’s been ages since I heard you sing. And it always makes you feel better. Plus, I picked one of your favorites,” she says and takes your drink from you, setting it on the table.

You turn to the stage, your mind a whirl of disbelief, fear, and nervous excitement. She comes over and pulls you by your shoulders, moving you towards the stage. With a gentle shove she sets you walking. You swallow and nervously push your hair behind your ears, an old reflexive movement.

The lights are bright on the stage as you step up next to the announcer, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes. From up here you can see the man at the pool table fold his arms, leaning back to watch you with an eager look.

“Good luck,” the announcer says with a genuine smile and then moves off to the computer to queue up the song.

You take a deep breath, dropping your hand and steadying yourself. Trying to remember how to do this; how to be on stage, how to lose yourself in the song and the sheer enjoyment of singing. It feels like holding up your old favorite dress - both nostalgic for how you used to feel in it and terrified that it won’t fit anymore.

Reaching out a hand to grab the microphone on the stand you lift your eyes, scanning the crowd. As the song starts the talking dies down, people turning to see how you’ll do with the challenging number. Cassie raises her glass to you and you shake your head in amusement, your old confidence beginning to rise.

The opening beats to You Know I’m No Good by Amy Winehouse start. It’s one of your all time favorites - the smoky, sexy vibe of the song always shocks people coming from you. With your classic features and normally conservative style of dress, everyone pegs you for a Whitney Huston type or even a Celine Dion. They always expect you to go with a ballad, something sweet and endearing.

But you love playing against type and showcasing your love for the blues. Your lower, huskier tones come out during this song and you smile to yourself in anticipation. Your hips start swaying unconsciously as the familiar beats flow through you.

From the first line you can only focus on one person – the man at the pool table. His eyes widen with attraction and interest as you begin to sing. He gives you a wry grin as he sips the amber liquid in his glass, bobbing his head along to the music. He has to know you’re singing for him as much as you’re singing for yourself.

The sultry sound of your voice sends a thrill of pleasure through your veins. The fear that you’d lost your talent melts away as the crowd cheers you on. The final bars of the music are drowned out in applause. You give a shy wave, turning back into your normal self away from the stage, like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight.

Smiling ear to ear you dash over to Cassie, practically tackling her into a hug as you thank her over and over. She laughs, clinking her glass to yours.

“I knew you still had it in you,” she says happily. “You’re never more yourself than when you’re up there. I just wanted to remind you that there’s still things you love in the world.”

You feel a wave of gratitude rise in you, your eyes going misty as you look at your best friend. A movement to your left catches your eye and you blanche as you see that the man from the pool table is standing next to you, his hands in his pockets as he looks at you.

“That was some performance,” he says, raising his voice above the newest singer on the stage.

“If you want to hit on my friend, you might want to get in line,” Cassie says with a sassy wink.

He laughs, bending at the waist, all of his teeth on view as he smiles. “I mean, your friend is drop dead gorgeous, I can’t lie. But I’m actually here to talk to her about her singing,” he replies, his lips twisting into a lopsided grin.

You nearly choke on your drink. “My singing?”

“Yeah. Come on, you have to know how fantastic you are. I just started a new music agency here in New York. I’ve been on the hunt for talent, and I think I’ve found it,” he says, pausing to watch your reaction.

Your brow furrows in confusion, looking over at Cassie. She shrugs and takes a sip of her beer. “So, what are you asking?” she says with a hard look at Chanyeol, like she’s daring him to try and bullshit you.

He grins and he instantly looks younger, boyish, as his eyes crinkle in the corners. “Well, I’d love to meet up with you tomorrow. Hear you sing some other things, discuss what we might do together,” he says, handing you a business card.

Park Chanyeol CEO Loey Entertainment Inc.

Below it is a phone number with a local area code and an address uptown. You hold the card in your hands gently, as if it’s a bubble that’s going to burst any second. Your buzz fades, reality slamming into you.

“Wait. Are you for real?” you gasp in confusion. “You’re not just messing with me?”

He laughs with his whole body, smacking his knee as he leans against the pool table for support. “No, I’m not just messing with you. I’m also a performer too, I wouldn’t joke around about something like this.”

You glance back and forth between his handsome face, the card, and Cassie’s barely contained glee. “So what do you say? How does noon tomorrow sound?” he asks, taking another sip of his drink.

“Yes!” you blurt, startling the people near you. You clap your hand over your mouth, a giddy laugh rising in your throat. “Oh my god, yes. That would be – I can’t even –”

“She’ll see you tomorrow,” Cassie says with a knowing smirk, grabbing the card out of your hand and steering you out of the bar. She turns and gives a wave back at Chanyeol as you duck out the door onto the street.

You straighten your skirt, nervously tucking your hair behind your ears. You smile to yourself; it’s been ages since you felt anxious excitement. If you’re honest with yourself, it’s been ages since you felt anything but dread when it comes to your future.

The building is modern, a converted warehouse that’s obviously in the middle of renovations. Cassie had pulled up the address last night from her dorm room, in between throwing clothing options at you and digging out your old lyrics from her Google Drive ‘just in case he wants to hear something original!’

You’d spent last night in a state of disbelief, more than happy to let her steer you through this. She’d sent you off this morning with a slap on the ass, making you crack up as you sped down the stairs and up the many blocks to the address he’d given you.

Pulling out your phone, you check the time. 11:55 it reads. You also see another text message pop up from your dad, the fifth this morning. I’m serious Y/N. Call me the moment you get this. Your mother and I are very worried. You sigh and click the screen off, shoving the phone in your purse.

Your reflection in the glass doors is frowning and you quickly pull yourself together, reminding yourself how thrilled you are for this opportunity. To sing, full time? You can’t think of anything you want more than that.

Pulling open the door, you see Chanyeol in the middle of the space. The large, open area is unfinished – steel beams and piles of wood are all over. But a desk is set up in the middle with a computer, and he’s wearing headphones as he stares intently at the screen.

You walk over, coming around to the far side of the desk to draw his attention. He jolts, finally noticing you, and his surprised expression turning into one of joy when he realizes who you are.

“Hey! I’m so glad you came. Please, take a seat,” he says, attempting to stand up and getting pulled back by the headphones still around his head.

You both laugh as he untangles himself and sets the headphones on the desk. He pulls a chair over near him so you can sit down. You put the folder with your lyrics in it on your lap and fold your hands anxiously in front of you. He sits back down and slaps his hands to his knees, watching you.

“So, why don’t you tell me more about yourself? I’m dying to get the full story,” he says with a smile, motioning with his hand for you to start.

You start off telling him about the musicals you’d done, the coaches you’d trained with. But he gently prods you to go deeper, to tell him about how you got into singing. Who your favorite artists are. How you feel when you’re singing.

By the time he finally asks you to sing, you feel like you’ve bared your whole heart to him. It makes you furrow your brow in confusion as you marvel at how long you went without doing the one thing it feels like you were born to do.

He leaves the choice up to you so you choose another favorite – Feeling Good by Nina Simone. The sound echoes around you and Chanyeol in the empty space, his dark eyes intent as they watch you. When you hit a high note his eyes drift close, his head tilting to the side as he listens.

“Perfect. Just perfect,” he says with a smile after you finish. “Do you have any original songs?”

“Yeah, actually I do,” you say with a nervous inhale.

You pull out one and sing it for him. It’s a simple tune, Cassie had played her guitar to accompany you on it at your Senior year talent show in High School.

Your lips tilt into a smile as you sing, the world falling away as you get lost in the pleasure of singing without agenda. Yes, you’re trying to impress him, but his gentle, excited presence builds you up, relaxes you, rather than pushing you down.

He claps for you, looking again like a big kid. “I know I’m new at this, and I have no idea yet how to go about all of the legal stuff, my partner has been taking care of the paperwork side of things. But, I’d love to start messing around with that song together. I actually play guitar too, if you wouldn’t mind accompaniment?” he asks.

“Me and my friend from the bar last night used to join me on her guitar actually, so that would be perfect,” you reply. “Wait – legal stuff…. Does that mean you want to sign me?” you gasp, your eyes going wide.

His head bobs up and down wildly, his hair falling into his eyes. “Absolutely. With your voice and your songwriting ability, I think we could produce something amazing together. How about we get together Monday night – I’ll bring my business partner and you can bring your friend and we can work something out?”

“Actually, Monday I hav-” you pause mid-sentence. Monday is the longest day of your week. A morning at your internship and back-to-back lectures followed by a study session with some other students in your major.

You bite your lip, torn. “Do you mind if I make a call real quick, before we get back to it?” you ask.

“Absolutely, take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready,” he says with a warm smile.

You pull your phone from your pocket and head back to the entrance, stepping out into the street. You clutch the phone to yourself, feeling as if you’re floating as people rush by you on the crowded sidewalk. You dial Cassie’s number and tap your foot while you wait for her to answer.

She answers in a rush of breath, as if she picked up the phone mid-sentence. “How did it go?”

“Good. Great, actually. He wants to sign me as his first artist,” you say and then let out a squeal, still in disbelief that it’s real.

“OH MY GOD,” she screams into the phone and you have to hold it away from your ear, smothering a laugh. “What did you say?”

“I said I had to make a call first,” you answer. “Cass, I have a whole life in Boston. I have three months left before graduation. I can’t just pick everything up and move here.”

“Honey, you once belted Memory from Cats at a police officer to get us out of a ticket. While wearing a unicorn onesie. I think you can do anything you set your mind to,” she says with a laugh. “Besides, you can live with me in the dorm until graduation and then we can get a place together.”

You sigh. “God, you make it sound so simple. I want that more than anything, but what about my dad?”

“That’s up to you babe, but I’m here for you no matter what,” she says and you know she means it with her whole heart.

“All right, Cass. I’ll fill you in when I get back. See you soon, okay?”

She agrees and you hang up the phone, staring at the screen. Slowly you swipe back over to your contacts, pulling up you dad’s number. Before you can chicken out, you press your thumb to the call button and hold the phone up to your ear.

As the line connects you turn around, your eyes meeting Chanyeol’s through the clear glass wall. He’s sitting in his chair, his guitar in his lap. He’s singing along as he strums, bobbing along to the tune.

Though you can’t hear the song, you can see the joy on his face; his eyes crinkle at the corners as he meets your gaze, giving you a nod and a smile.

Your own lips tug up in response, spreading into a grin. You have a feeling that Cass won’t be the only person there for you in the future, and as the call connects you feel a wave of peace wash over you - your decision made.

“Hi Dad, it’s me. Listen, I have something to tell you...”

#chanyeol x reader #kpoptrashtag #kfluffnet #kpopwritingnet #kwriterskollection #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol imagine #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol scenario #exo fanfic #exo imagine #exo scenario #exo fluff

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