#anyone felt sick after their first dose a lot later

[warmaidensrevenge]

Always seen you.

Pairing: Eddie x Insecure!Fem plus size reader

If you want to read my other work you can find it HERE

A/N: Ok my dears, this is part 7 to my full blown series. This turned out to be a lot more than I intended. But, I’m happy how it’s going. Just a few warnings before the actual warnings. I did use the scene in the woods with Eddie and Chrissy. With obvious changes to fit my story line. This gets sad. So I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading. As always feedback is greatly appreciated. Kay love you bye.

Warnings: 18+ language, body insecurities, secret pining, angst, slow burn, misunderstanding, abuse, eventually smut in later parts. Not proof read and no word count.

Summary: The boy of your dreams is always just out of reach. If only you could get over yourself to see that he sees you too.

Part 7

💔💔😮‍💨

Well the weekend wasn't how you expected it to go. But other than being sick, it was the best weekend of your existence. Eddie stayed the whole time. He only left to take a shower and say hi to his uncle. Just to let him know where he was.

It was Wednesday morning and you were feeling tons better. All you needed was a big dose of Eddie Munson and you were good as new.

Though there was a lot to deal with involving your feelings for Eddie. You were honestly happy that you had him as a friend. He was a really good one at that. You never thought he would even want to be near you. But here he was proving all your insecurities wrong.

You were in theater class talking with Eddie when Mrs Adler came to talk to you guys.

" Okay you two. I have copies of the scripts for you. I would actually like both of you to practice the parts together. I want everyone of the main characters to learn each other's parts. So that everyone can get a chance to act each one. So y/n you will learn Julia and Sylvia's parts and Mr. Munson you will be learning Valentine and Proteus's part."

You and Eddie looked at each other. You guys would get to kiss after all.

Mrs Adler smiled handing you two the scripts.

You looked down at them. " When will the play happen?"

" Two months."

You nodded.

" I have the auditorium booked for next week. I expect you guys to at least have most of it memorized by then. Well your original part."

" Yeah we can do that." Eddie said

" Good. Mr Munson. You probably might want to find Miss Cunningham and figure out what time works best for you two."

Eddie nodded.

" Same goes for you." Mrs Adler looked at you.

You nodded.

When she left you couldn't possibly have a bigger smile. It was gonna happen. You were gonna finally get that kiss. But then the thought of Eddie kissing Chrissy first came. You didn't want his lips touching anyone else.

Stop it! You told yourself

" Hey sweetheart?"

You looked at Eddie and gave him a half smile.

"Think you feel good enough for a movie later?"

" Sure."

" Cool."

When the class was over Mrs Adler stopped Eddie. You said your goodbyes and Eddie watched you leave. With a smirk on his lips. He was finally gonna kiss you.

" Mr. Munson, I just want to let you know that I and a few students will be in the drama room after school making props."

" Oh. Umm okay."

" so you probably are gonna have to take date night somewhere else." She smiled

Eddie felt the blush creep up his neck. Was that what all the movie nights were? Were you guys dating?

He didn't correct her. He just nodded and left.

Eddie went to his next class not paying attention to God damn thing.

You guys couldn't watch the movie in the drama room and you guys couldn't do it at your place when your parents were home. So the only option was his place.

Eddie had never really been embarrassed about his place before. But now he was. He was freaking out so bad about it that after school he went to the woods to smoke. He should have got the movie before he was high. But his anxiety was through the roof.

" Eddie?"

He jumped. When he turned around he was met with scared eyes.

" Uhh Chrissy?"

" Hi. Umm sorry. I uhh was told I could find you out here."

" You were looking for me?"

" Yeah. Mrs Adler said we should talk."

" Oh...yeah" Eddie was nervous. He had never talked to Chrissy before.

He watched her walk towards the table and sit down.

"So uhh I was wondering when you would like to read the script together?" She said in a soft voice.

Eddie could sense that she seemed terrified. Was she really scared of him?

" Uhh whenever you're free I guess." He said slowly approaching the table. Putting out his joint in the process.

" umm."

She stood quiet for a minute.

" Are you okay Chrissy?" He said finally sitting down across from her.

" Umm sorry. It's just...Do you ever feel like you're losing your mind?" She asked, fidgeting with her fingers.

Eddie looked at her slightly suspicious. But she seemed nice so he thought he would try to get her to relax.

" Um, you know, just... on a daily basis. I feel like I'm losing my mind right now. I'm talking to Chrissy Cunningham, the queen of Hawkins High" he saw her shoulders relax. "You know, this isn't the first time that we've, um... Hung out."

"No?" She said finally looking at him.

"You don't remember? "

"I'm sorry. I..."

"That's okay." Eddie paused for a split second. He then grabbed his heart and fell backwards.

Chrissy gasped.

"I wouldn't remember me either, Chrissy."

Eddie got up and started brushing the leaves out of his hair. "Honestly, do I have stuff in my hair?"

Chrissy laughed. That made him feel better. She was getting comfortable being around him. So he decided to keep it up.

"You don't remember me?" He asked crossing his arms and smiled.

" I'm sorry." She smiled

"Middle school, talent show. You were doing this cheer thing. You know, the... the thing you do. It was pretty cool, actually. And I... I was with my band."

Chrissy's eyes widened and she smiled. "Corroded Coffin.

"Corro..." Eddie smiled clapping his hands and pointed at her. " You do remember."

" Oh my God! Yes, of course. With a name like that, how could I forget!?"

I dunno. You're a freak."

"No, you just... You looked so..."

"Different? Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was buzzed, and I didn't have these sweet old tatties yet." He said showing off his chest tattoo.

"You played guitar, right?"

" Uh-huh. Still do... Still do. You should come see us. Uh, we play at The Hideout on Tuesdays. It's pretty cool. We... We actually get a crowd of about five... drunks."

Chrissy giggled.

" It's not exactly the Garden, but you gotta start somewhere, right? So... "

"You know, you're not what I thought you'd be like."

Eddie put some hair in front of his face." Mean and scary?"

"Yeah."

" Yeah, well, I actually kinda thought you'd be kinda mean and scary too."

" Me?" She gave him a big toothy smile.

Eddie grinned and sat back down." Terrifying. Uh, so, in other good news, flattery works with me, so..."

Chrissy laughed again. " Well I umm look forward to working with you on this."

" Yeah?"

" Yeah. You just seem really fun."

Eddie chuckled. " Well I tried to be."

They sat there for a minute.

Eddie noticed that Chrissy's smile was fading.

" Umm Eddie?"

" Yeah sweetheart?"

Chrissy looked at the script and turned to the page where they were supposed to kiss.

Eddie watched her for a few seconds.

" Sweetheart?"

" Do you..Do you think it would be okay if we don't kiss. I...I don't want Jason to be upset."

' Uhh actually I was thinking about that too. I ummm don't get me wrong. Your pretty and I had a crush on you for the longest time."

" You did?"

" Y-yeah...But see ummm...there's this girl."

Chrissy smiled again. " yeah?"

" yup. She uhh she's actually playing Julia."

" Oh! You mean y/n. Yeah I know her. She is so nice. One time when I just got on the cheer team she helped me. I was having trouble memorizing all the chants and she found me crying in the bathroom. I told her why I was so upset and she went out of her way to make me flash cards of all the cheers we did. She spent hours helping me. Shes really a great person."

Eddie smiled thinking about you. You were such a good person. Even when you didn't have to be.

" Yeah. She's umm.. she's kinda...I don't know exactly what we are right now. But umm I kinda just want to kiss her you know."

Chrissy nodded. " Well you'll get your chance. But can I tell you something?"

" Shoot."

" If I was y/n. I wouldn't want my first kiss with you to be in front of the whole school."

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. " I didn't think about that."

Chrissy gave him a thin lip smile.

" Can I ask you something?"

" Sure?"

Eddie started picking at his nails. " You know where I live right?"

" Umm no?"

" Oh uh Forest Hills trailer park."

" Oh yeah. I know where that is."

" Y-yeah...do you think that she would mind where I live?"

" You guys are friends right?"

" Yeah."

" Then I don't think she would mind it at all. From what I know about her. She doesn't judge people on that kind of stuff."

Eddie smiled again. Chrissy was right. You wouldn't be put off by him or his home.

" So uhh do you want to go over lines right now?" Chrissy asked.

" uhh I would but umm I kinda have a date."

Chrissy grinned. " With y/n I hope."

Eddie chuckled. " Yeah."

...

After school you walked towards the math club when you saw a note on the door. Jeff came and stood right next to you.

" Cancelled huh?"

" Yeah. Seems like it." You said kinda happy about it.

This meant you could spend a little more time with Eddie.

" So uhh what are you gonna do right now?"

You looked at Jeff. "Umm well I was going to find Eddie. But now that I think about it. Did Mrs Adler give you your scripts yet?"

" Uh yeah. Do you want to run lies with me?"

" Yeah we probably should. But I kind of have something to do today."

" Oh is it date night?"

Your eyebrows pinched together. "Umm what?"

" Yeah. You know. Movie night with Eddie? You guys are dating right?"

" Umm not that I know of."

" Really? That's what Gareth said. He said I couldn't ask you to winter formal because you and Eddie were going out."

You cleared your throat. " umm wait. You were gonna ask me to formal? And Gareth said Eddie and I were dating?"

" Yeah. And if you were I wouldn't want to do anything that would piss Eddie off."

" Did Eddie say anything that confirmed that?"

Jeff shook his head. " But he does talk about you a lot. Saying how pretty you are and how smart you are. He said that he liked spending time with you."

"He said that?" You averted your gaze to the ground.

" Yeah. But he never said you guys were together together."

You bit your lip. So Eddie did like you. Why didn't he say anything? You guys could have been together this whole time?!

" So are you guys? Together?"

You looked back at Jeff. " umm not right now we're not."

" But you like him too?"

" I..."

" It's cool. You don't have to answer that. I just thought maybe... nevermind. Umm so do you want to meet me in the auditorium tomorrow and practice?"

" Sure-sure...I'm do you know where Eddie is right now?"

" Yeah he said he was going to his smoking spot."

" umm where is that?"

" Uhh it's an old bench behind the football field. If you follow the path. You'll find it."

" Thanks Jeff."

You turned around and headed towards eddie. The smile on your face was so big you knew your cheeks were gonna hurt. The short distance seemed way longer than it should have been. You wanted to run there. Run to Eddie and just kiss him. But you didn't want to be out of breath and all sweaty. So you walked quickly.

You heard Eddie talking before you got there.

Talking to yourself too huh?

As you got closer you heard laughing. But not Eddie's. You stopped and heard a girl.

You didn't realize you were doing it but we're creeping closer to hear the conversation. Being as silent as you could.

"I feel like I'm losing my mind right now. I'm talking to Chrissy Cunningham, the queen of Hawkins High" "You know, this isn't the first time that we've, um... Hung out."

You're getting high with Chrissy?

As you continued to listen. Eddie seemed to be flirting with her. You felt your heart rate pick up and jealousy filled you. Your eyes started to water.

"You should come see us. Uh, we play at The Hideout on Tuesdays. It's pretty cool. We... We actually get a crowd of about five... drunks."

What?

Your heart broke right then and there. He never asked you to see his band. And you guys have been friends for months. This was his first time talking to Chrissy and he already asked her.

You're flirting. Why?

Tears started to fall and you covered your mouth to cover up the gasp that came with them.

Then you heard it. He called her sweetheart. That's when you had enough. You were done eavesdropping. You turned around and hurried back to the football field. Once you got there you slowed down and tried to catch your breath.

Deep breaths. Common y/n. Calm down.

You took a few deep breaths and wiped your face. You wanted to go home but you couldn't. Your brother would know you've been crying.

You ended up in your little nook and sat there with your knees up. You buried your face into your arms and cried as quietly as you could.

I thought he liked me.

Well you weren't the only one he liked. But why would he choose you? You and Chrissy were completely opposites. She was so pretty and so nice. And she was thin and blonde and a damn cheerleader. How the hell could you compete with her? There's no way in hell that Eddie would choose you over her.

Fuck you really couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't lose yourself for this "relationship". You had to look at things in an analytical stand point. Instead of letting your heart do the thinking. It was your brain in charge of how you felt. And you could control that.

You decided here and now that you would only be a helping hand. No more spending time together. No more late night phone calls, no more movies. You were done. You needed as much distance as you could. But still be available to tutor him and work on the play together. But that was it. No more and no less.

You had to. You could keep hurting yourself for a fantasy. You had to be done. You needed to be done with Eddie.

...

You let yourself cry and cry. You cried until you had nothing left and your throat was raw. You sat there for a little while longer trying to talk yourself to stop caring so much about him. You kept hearing him call Chrissy sweetheart and you just broke all over again.

Finally when you were calmed down enough you took the long way home. It started to rain and you cried again. Now you could go home and no one would ask about it.

You stopped in front of your front door and put on a smile. You said your hellos and went to your room.

" Hey golden child. Eddie called." Your brother said.

" Oh. Umm okay thanks. I'm gonna shower before I get sick again."

You walked past him and locked yourself in the bathroom. You debated calling him back. But you needed time.

You took so long in the shower your mom started banging on the door telling you to get out.

When you finally got out you went to your room and started doing your homework.

"Hey gearhead. Eddie called again." Your brother sounded annoyed.

" Yeah okay. Sorry. I'll call him back." You said not looking at him.

" Are you okay sis?"

" Y-yeah. I just got so much to do. And lines to learn."

" Are you sure?"

You looked at him and smiled. "I'm good snot wad."

Your brother laughed " Alright kid. Don't work too hard."

When he left you got up and locked your door. You went to your record player and put on a vinyl.

You went back to work when the phone rang. You got up and turned the ringer off. You knew it was Eddie. But you couldn't talk to him. Not yet.

You went back to work. You read and read all your lines. Your concentration was interrupting by a song.

You listened and every word hurt.

🎵

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you. What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

And I don't wanna fall in love.

No, I don't wanna fall in love.

With you.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you. Strange what desire will make foolish people do. I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you. And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.

🎵

The universe had a funny way of giving you signs like this. You sat there wishing you never fell in love with him.

Out of nowhere your dad screamed out your name.

You got up and went out to the living room. You were surprised to see Mrs Clark sitting on the couch.

" Have a seat." Your fathers voice was cold and angry.

You listened and sat on the love seat opposite from Mrs Clark and your mom.

" Mrs Clark has brought to our attention that her son saw the Munson boy stay here this past weekend. Is this true?"

You looked at Mrs Clark in disbelief.

" You have a lot of nerve." You said to her

" I beg your pardon." She said.

" That's enough! So it's true. You were being a whore with that...that freak!" Your mother stood up and slapped you.

"MOM!" Your brother yelled. "STOP! HE WAS HERE WITH ME!"

You sat there with tears in your eyes. You saw your brother put down the phone and try to come to you. But your mother stopped him.

"My son said while he was cutting the neighbors grass he just so happened to see through the bedroom window and saw them sleeping together."

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Your brother yelled at your father who came to you.

He got in your face. " Are you going to just sit there and not answer for your indiscretions?"

Your brother knew if you told the truth. Things were about to get a hell of a lot worse.

You looked over to your brother. If you didn't tell the truth he would probably get hurt a whole lot worse than you would.

" Y/n!" Your brother yelled.

You looked back at your father.

" Y-yes. He was here with me." You replied.

Your dad turned around and pulled Mrs Clark by her arm. " I think it's time you leave. Thank you for informing my wife and I about this."

He quickly shoved her out of the house.

Your brother tried to get out of your mom's arms but she kept saying if he didn't stop he was going to get double.

Your father turned around and walked toward you.

" You will not see that boy ever again! Do you hear me? His is not allowed within a hundred yards of this house. And if I ever catch him here I will make sure my buddies at the sheriff's department lock him away for a long time."

You hung your head and let out a small nose laugh. "No."

"NO!"

"Y/n!? Don't." Your brother begged

"You don't get to tell me who I can be with or who I can see. So no."

" HOW DARE YOU TALK BACK TO YOUR FATHER!"

You looked at your dad and saw nothing but rage.

" I'm sorry dad. But I'm not doing this shit anymore."

Your dad picked you up by your arms and grabbed a pillow. He held it to your stomach and punched you.

"DAD!! PLEASE!" Your brother cried out.

You leaned over and fell to the ground. You heard your father undo his belt and started beating you.

Somehow your brother got past your mother and went to tackle your dad. You tried to get up but your mom held you there by your hair.

"Look at what you've done!"

She moved your head to look at your father and brother. They were rolling around throwing blows at each other.

Your dad was much bigger and way stronger. You cried watching your brother get beaten.

" Daddy! Please!" You cried.

Your father stopped and looked down at your brother who was bleeding. He then looked at you and shook his head.

" You shouldn't have gotten involved boy." Your dad said getting up. "Honey let her go. She's had enough."

Your mother listened and let your hair go. " Clean your brother up."

You crawled to him and pulled him into your lap.

"Damnit. You should have stayed out of it." You whispered

" I promised I wouldn't let you get hit without me." He grunted

" I hope you're happy. No go to bed!" Your mother ordered.

" No." You said softly.

"Y/n don't." Your brother pleaded.

You looked at him. "No. I'm done. We're getting out of here. They can't keep doing this to us."

" I said go to your room!"

" NO! We are not staying another night in the place with you!" You shouted.

Your mother was about to charge you but your father stopped her.

You were always closer to your dad. You knew after every beating he would feel so bad after. But it never stopped him from the continuous abuse over the years. So you used that to your advantage tonight.

" If they want to go. Let them honey. They will come running back sooner or later."

You pulled your brother to his feet. You grabbed both your jackets and shoes. You grabbed his car keys and went outside.

You sat on the front porch helping him put on his shoes.

" Fuck!" He said trying to clean up his bloody nose. " It's not broken is it?"

You looked him over. " No. I think you're good."

You started to put on your shoes when headlights blinded you for a second. You saw two guys at first.

Then you saw a mess of curly hair bouncing to you.

Eddie?

...

@irishhappiness @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @idkidknemore @hiscrimsonangel @hellv1ra @browneyes528 @b-irock @erinsingalong

#fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x female original character #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie my beloved #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie x plus size reader #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson x y/n #plus size reader

[elmhat]

beginnings

Read on AO3.

Quackity seeks out Purpled shortly after he joins Las Nevadas.

~

For the first time since its inception, Las Nevadas actually felt full. Something about the bustling streets, the noise and the chaos, made Quackity’s heart soar in a way he wasn’t used to, not even back in L’Manberg. Life, as of late, was thrillingly new.

But the kind of business he was looking for didn’t just come from gamblers and drunkards. Certain individuals sat higher on his ever-growing list of priorities. Purpled had been here for a few days now, and had so far, miraculously, stayed out of trouble. Although Quackity had a decent idea of what made him tick, decent just wasn’t going to cut it. He had a country to run.

He got the usual sideways glances when he entered the bar, hushed mutterings that patrons assumed he couldn’t hear. As expected, Purpled was alone. Quackity took the seat opposite him.

Purpled scoffed, low in his throat. “Las Nevadas is a busy place.” He didn’t look up from his drink. “And yet, somehow, you still found me. You still got spies on me, is that it?��

If Quackity was going to gain his trust, an obvious lie would be a bad start. “It’s for your own safety, nothing else, Purpled. It’s the same for everyone here, I promise, it’s just the same.”

“You’re a funny guy.” Purpled chuckled, blatantly fake, to prove his point. “Bodyguards for your own bodyguard, I like it.”

Quackity smiled. He had gotten good at it; the scar didn’t twist as much now. “But hey, it brought me here to you, and now we can chat!”

“Can we now. I was pretty happy on my own, actually.”

Typical Purpled, always turning conversations into arguments. “I understand that, Purpled, I can understand that. I just wanted to thank you for deciding to join us. It warms my heart.” A lot could be said for kindness, when the occasion invited. Quackity even felt like he meant some of it. Flattery, on the other hand, might be a step too far, and Quackity didn’t quite trust his abilities enough to try it yet.

“I’m sure it does,” said Purpled. “Well, I mean, I am homeless now, so I could use a good dose of that condescension of yours.”

Purple eyes met brown. The stare didn’t break.

Quackity looked away first. “Hey, listen,” he started, stretching his legs under the table. Looking relaxed might convince himself he actually was. “We might’ve had a rough past, I get that. I get that you’re mad at me. But that doesn’t change the path you were headed down, Purpled. There’s no glory in being a mercenary. There’s no fame. I’m sure there was a whole lot of money!” Quackity laughed. “But there’s more to life, don’t you think? Look at Punz! They had their one big moment and then boom. Where even are they? Does anyone know? Does anyone ask?”

He was sick of giving the same sales pitch, over and over and over again. It was probably redundant anyway. But he had to make sure. “This is the beginning of your new life.”

Purpled crossed his arms, slouching. The very picture of indifference. But something in his eyes betrayed him: a hunger, burning brighter with every word. Quackity had something he wanted, and neither of them could deny it. Quackity was sure this wouldn’t be the last time he gave this speech, nor the next. Purpled was ambitious, yes, but he wasn’t predictable. Quackity had almost died to find that out. Only once Purpled had seen the solid, undeniable results of this new venture, would he be fully secured.

“And you get to decide when my new life begins, do you?” said Purpled.

“Hey, man, I didn’t force you to come here. This was all you.” And that was the point, wasn’t it? A group of people working together, not because of a contract (though Quackity would be sure to introduce that later), but because of a goal.

Purpled smirked. “You make a lot of big promises, Quackity. I’ll believe it when I have my new house.” He held up his glass. “Until then, here’s to my new life.”

Quackity mimicked the gesture. “Here’s to us.”

#dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #elm fics #c!quackity #cquackity #c!purpled #cpurpled #las nevadas #sands through the timer

[mandana-the-service-pup]

I’ve had a 102-103 fever all night and it only comes down briefly if I take a high dose of Tylenol. I don’t think the vet would let me bring her in even if I could walk the miles it takes to get there & back.

That said, I’ll get a urine sample from her and if it’s dark I’ll call the vet and if it’s not I’ll wait for another accident before calling. Her urine was dark and kind of red last time but we assumed it was bc of her beet supplement. After her last appointment I took her off that supplement just incase she did get worse. If it’s still dark/red we’ve got big problems.

I’ve been in level 7 pain for 48 hours. To put that into perspective, at level 5 I would gladly take a hammer and break all my toes if it meant I could be rid of the level 5 pain (weird I know but it gets the point across). So level 7 is pretty bad. I can only speak short sentences so I would have to email the vet instead. Level 8 pain is one word responses and screaming in pain so if my fever goes down and they let me come in hopefully I can make it there and still be coherent.

Thank you everyone for your support and for the followers who support in silence I know you’re out there and I appreciate the love. If anyone wants to throw out ideas of what’s wrong with her feel free to do so, it might actually help. Love you all 🫶

Symptoms

The only time she’s ever been incontinent is in the days following up anasthesia. Three times she’s gone under and three times she had incontinence afterwards. She went under for her OFAs the first week of May and a dental fix two weeks later. She had urinary incontinence for a few days after her dental appointment but as far as I know it went away for a while before all this happened.

On May 24th? She woke up with a swollen Vulva but no incontinence. We went to the vet and put her on Neo-Predef. She was pretty much back to normal by Friday so I took her swimming for 20 minutes in a GOOD lake on a people beach that wasn’t closed or anything due to algae or ecoli as far as I know.

The day after her swim (Sat 28th) she woke up with incontinence. It was pretty bad. Happened every time she fell asleep or was about to fall asleep. She started drinking a lot of water so all the potty pads were clear. I didn’t see any blood.

The vet would be closed until Tuesday, so on May 29th I got a good bladder supplement and started giving her the full dose (May 29/30/31). She immediately improved and went from having accidents every half hour due to exhaustion to only having them a couple times a day.

We went to the vet on May 31st for the incontinence. Her urinalysis was completely normal and they didn’t think it was bladder crystals. Her urine sample was dark/reddish which concerned them at first but it was easy to blame the beet supplement she gets. She was put on a broad spectrum under the suspicion she just had a mild UTI that isn’t showing up yet.

Wed June 1st she felt much better and didn’t have any accidents. Thursday June 2nd it got much worse all of a sudden. She started having frequent accidents again and even pooped (normal healthy poop) while she was napping.

Today is Friday June 3rd. The vet had said if she’s still sick by Friday this could be much worse than a UTI and bring her in immediately. I’ve been sick with a high fever and high pain levels for two days so I’m not sure they will let me come in at all. I haven’t gotten out of bed yet due to pain but I’m going to do that now and get another urine sample. It it’s still dark red despite being off the beets for a few days I’m going to try to get an appointment. If she’s acting better and it’s clear then I will wait and see if she’s still having accidents before I call in.

She had a small accident last night but her urine looks pretty normal to me and she doesn’t seem particularly unwell. I changed all her bedding in her room and got her a lickmat until I feel well enough to give her breakfast. I’m going to lie in bed & hydrate until my fever goes down. If she has one more accident I’m calling the vet. Hopefully the bladder supplements & antibiotics will pull us through.

#belgian malinois #2 years #service dog in training #sick dog #vet #vetblr #dog uti #bad health day #service dog community #chronic illness community #disability community #disabled community

[mental-is-mine]

Entry: May 8th, 2023

Mental Health Day

I missed my medication dose last night and I felt the difference today. In myself and in my mood. It’s kind of funny to me that I took a mental health day and started a mental health blog in Mental Health Awareness month. It’s amusing to me but I don’t laugh about it. They say mental health should be taken seriously and I agree, but I wish I felt like it was really okay to be more open about it. I know times have changed and the stigma on mental health has improved. Despite all that I still lied to my boss and told her I was sick. I was feeling a little dehydrated so maybe it was just a partial lie, but I needed the mental break more. I had too much to drink this past weekend. I went out with my partner for a date night/ wedding reception and it was a great time. I enjoyed being with them and seeing my family. However, I notice when outside stressors affect me like work or family drama its a lot harder for me to control my alcohol intake and I didn’t stop at one. I think this was the first time I drank since I was placed on my medication I can’t say I noticed a difference but I wish I would have stopped at four instead of seven. As I said I’ve been stressed for various reasons and I just went with it, because I felt I deserved the break.

Now a few days later I’m filled with regret about my actions. Partly because I had too much to drink and partly because I feel like I got too inebriated around my family members because I was stressed. I don’t think anyone minded but I still can’t help but feel a little guilty. I just keep thinking I wish I would have taken it a little easier. Especially, since I wasn’t sure how my depression or medication would alter my mood while drinking. I also haven’t drank in quite a while due to taking a break for health and weight loss. In other words, I don’t have much of a tolerance anymore. I definitely get a little braver when I drink, a lot louder and more talkative. Normally, I am a shy introvert that speaks only when spoken to and I usually feel most comfortable with my partner. I found myself getting anxiety today and the day after the party. Thinking about what I might have said wrong or if I obnoxiously said too much. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I am very honest. As you can imagine alcohol only enhances that. During the party I tried to act as normal as I could to convince myself and others I wasn’t as drunk as I knew I was. I remember a moment I was staring in the restroom mirror, at my red eyes and flushed face, flipping my hair over and trying to look more sober. It’s strange to me that even while being drunk I was so concerned about what other people thought of me including my family members. I felt comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. Now after the fact I’m trying to not replay every conversation, word I might not have understood or moment where I might have looked stupid. Hoping, that I can redeem myself in the future and that I didn’t diminish my character in anyone’s eyes. Even after knowing most of the people I was around for years and others I won’t see again for years, I still worry. I try not to be so hard on myself but it is true we are our own biggest critics. Until next time, take care and be well.

-Peach

#mental health #mental wellbeing #mental problems #mental health awareness #mental heath support #deppresing thoughts #stress #medication #tw depression #tw depressing thoughts #may be triggering

[yoohyeontual]

I think my mom is having side effect from her vaccine more than 18 hours later and I’m still feeling sick how lucky are we 🤪

#edit : yeah it’s 9pm and she went to sleep she dosen’t feel week at all 🙃 #anyone felt sick after their first dose a lot later ???? #I’m scare when it will be my turn fkdbxjbd #well I hope it’s the vaccine and not her getting sick #she had her first dose yesterday at 1pm and she only had a sore arms #but she’s shivering and feel really tire since she arrived earlier #and there me still nauseous and tired cause of the product in my room during the night dkbxjsbdnd #my headache come and goes tho #my dad didn’t had side effect. except sore arm when he got his #personal #do not reblog

[warmblanketwhump]

flight plan: part 2

no planes in this one - just some good old-fashioned sickfic! But if you want the backstory, check out part 1 here.

“A, can you hand me my glass of water? Pleaaaase?” B sticks out their bottom lip in a pout, and A can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, you. It’s been four days and I know you’re getting better, because you’re getting pesky again.” A straightens the blankets and slides their hand up to feel B’s cheek. “Still a little warm, but I think you’re on your way out of the woods.”

“So I should milk this while I can?” B flutters their eyelashes and gives a pitifully fake cough, which slips into a real one, sharp and rattling. Concern flits across A’s eyes, and they help B take a few sips from the glass.

Despite the joking, A didn’t kid themselves about how sick B had been, or how awful they’d truly felt after getting off the plane. The first two days had been nightmarish - B barely conscious, shivering with chills and sweating through their sheets, alternating between terrifying fever dreams and inconsolable moaning and weeping.

A did their best to hold them through it, but they had been minutes away from hauling B to the hospital. Thankfully B’s fever had spiked just one final time before settling into general low-grade misery.

“As long as you need me, sweetheart, you’ve got me.” B gives a tired smile and pulls the blanket to their chin, huddling around the new stuffed animal A gave them at the airport.

“Did you call C?”

“Ah, not yet. Too busy with you, ya sick little bean.” A gently fluffs B’s hair. “You rest, and I’ll give them a call now.”

But C doesn’t pick up. Nor do they pick up an hour later, leaving A stuck with the unpleasant task of leaving a voicemail.

“Um, hi…this is A. I just wanted to call and let you know that B’s on the mend. They’re still pretty weak, but I think things are looking up. So…yeah. Thanks for everything you did for B - once they were feeling better, they told me all about what you did. And I…well, I care a lot about them. Obviously. So I appreciate it. I guess you can call back if you-”

The message cuts off, and A groans. Hopefully that was enough. Still, they couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of their stomach.

Later, they settle in with B to watch a movie, B’s head cradled in their lap as A combs their fingers soothingly through their hair, reveling in the sheer normalcy of it all. They both end up falling asleep, and when A blinks awake as the credits roll, they notice a missed call from C. B’s still out, so they click to listen to the voicemail.

“Hey, A….sorry I *coughs*…missed you earlier. Wasn’t able to *sniffs* make it to the phone. So glad to hear that B’s *cough cough* doing better. I think they did a little sharing.” C laughs weakly, but A can hear the sheer exhaustion in their voice. “Anyways, glad they had you. And if you’ve got any survival tips, feel free to pass them along…..I’m just kidding. *cough* I’ll be fine. Anyways, I’ll…see you around, I guess.” They pause briefly, like they want to say something more, but a coughing fit steals their breath away, and the message ends with a click cutting off the rough gasps.

The pit in A’s stomach comes back. C sounds sick.

“Who….who was that?” B mumbles from their spot on A’s lap.

“It was C. They called back and they….didn’t sound so good.”

B’s eyes snap to meet A’s, more alert than they have been in days. “Did they sound like me?”

C pauses. They hadn’t thought about not telling B, but in hindsight, maybe they should have. After all, it’d only flood B with guilt, and they needed all the energy they had to get well. But one look at B’s concern, and they knew they wouldn’t be able to lie.

“Yeah. They did.” Immediately B struggles to push themselves up, throwing their blanket off their shoulders and trying to stand.

“Whoa, hold it there. Where do you think you’re going?”

“To C. If they’re sick, it’s from me, and if any hints from the past four days of living with me are any indication, we gotta help them.”

A throws their hands up, pressing B back on the couch. “Hold up. We don’t know them, we don’t know if someone’s already taking care of them, and we don’t know where they live. I’m sure they’re-“

B frantically shakes their head. “You didn’t hear them. On the plane. From what they said…I don’t think they have anyone. I have to go.”

A chews their lip. “Well, let’s get things straight first. You’re in no shape to go help them. Which leaves me. A random stranger they don’t know. And you want me to check on them?”

The question was meant to be sarcastic, but B nods vigorously and fear fills their eyes with a fevered anxiety. “A, you saw how sick I was. You think anyone’s gonna be able to fight through that alone?”

A sighs wearily. They could blame it on the fact that arguing with a sick B was like arguing with a brick wall. But truthfully, what did their heart in was the thought of B alone on that plane, sick and shivering and miserable, if C hadn’t helped.

Fine. They’d send a text.

You okay? You sounded kinda rough on the phone. B was worried….

A few moments later, C responds.

Eh, I’ve felt better. But thank you for asking. And tell B not to feel bad. They were a better seatmate than most.

A smile tugs at A. At least this C was polite.

Is there anything you need? B said something about you being by yourself.

This pause was longer. The dots appeared and disappeared a few times, before a message came through.

I hate to take advantage, but is there ANY way you could bring over some cough medicine? I ran out a couple days ago. No worries if not - I can figure it out.

C’s heart sank. So they were alone. Sure, they didn’t say it - but any good friend or significant other worth their salt wouldn’t leave someone they loved without medicine for days.

I’ll bring some to you! Want to meet somewhere neutral, or just want me to drop it off?

In moments, C sends a response and an address.

Dropping off is fine. You are an actual lifesaver.

A settles B into bed with blankets, a cup of water, hot tea, and six types of medicine on the side table. “Now if you get worse, call me and I’ll turn around immediately. Nothing’s more important than you, okay?”

B shook their head. “I’ll be fine. They need someone.”

A heaves a sigh. “You’re too good, you.” They give B a quick forehead kiss, and head out into the night.

By the time they get to C’s apartment, their stomach is flip-flopping - C is a stranger. A lonely stranger, but a random stranger nonetheless. They come to C’s door and knock tentatively, gripping the paper bag of cough medicine (plus some cough drops and Tylenol for good measure), and hold their breath.

Nothing. A few minutes go by and A knocks again. They’re ready to break down the door if C doesn’t answer soon, but they realize what took so long right after they hear the click of the deadbolt.

A had seen corpses that looked more alive than C did right now. They lean heavily on the doorframe, sweat beaded on their forehead, a thick grey throw blanket clutched tightly around their shoulders. Their face is hollow and devoid of color, lips dry and cracked, their hair mussed and matted to their head. The cool night air hits their fevered body, triggering a round of chills that make them shudder. Despite their misery, a tiny light of gratitude flits across their eyes, and they stare incredulously at the paper bag in A’s hands.

“C….” A’s jaw drops to the ground.

“A, I seriously owe you one.” C tries to laugh, but it turns into a wheezing chest cough, high pitched and tense as they fight to catch their breath. Their eyes blink slowly, and they start to slide down the doorframe, but A grabs them and they both tumble inside.

Even through the blanket, A can feel C’s every bone. C weakly clings to A as they stumble toward the couch, and A deposits them on the cushions before tearing into the package of meds.

“What have you taken so far today?” A asks, trying to figure out the dosages.

“I….nothing…” C mumbles. A meets their eyes in disbelief before cracking open the blister packet and retrieving a proper dose. Grabbing an empty glass on the side table, they fill it before helping C choke the pills down. C greedily gulps the whole glass, breathing heavily once they’ve drained it.

“Water…water’s good.” C smiles blearily - they’re almost completely out of it. A presses a hand to the side of C’s neck, and C flinches at the cool touch. Their neck feels like a bank of hot coals, slick with sweat, lymph nodes sore and swollen. Their forehead isn’t much cooler either.

“C, when’s the last time you ate or drank anything?”

C cocks their head like A just asked them to recite the entire periodic table. “I….not sure? Days….kinda blurry.”

A’s seen enough. “C, you’ve got to go to the hospital. I haven’t even seen your temp, but you’re burning up even worse than B was.”

C frantically grasps at A’s wrists, sharp panic flooding their eyes. “Please…no…no hospital. I can’t. The meds….I’m fine here. Please.” A shiver wracks their body, and they hunch their shoulders, wrapping themselves back up and pulling the blanket over their nose. “Please. You can go now.”

“C, you need help-“

“I don’t.” Their voice breaks on the last word, cut off by a brief hiccuping sob.

Confusion rises through A - one minute C’s a grateful wreck, and the next moment they’re demanding they leave?

“C, I don’t understand-“

“You don’t get it. You think it feels all nice, having people care about you. Making you feel like you matter. And then they leave you. Get tired of you. Decide you’re not worth it. And it hurts worse than if they were never there at all.” C scrubs their eye with the corner of their blanket and sniffles as tears run down their cheeks. “I can’t let it happen again. I have to be alone. So just go. Please.”

A’s speechless. They kneel down next to the couch, hand tentatively hovering above C.

“C, is it okay if I put my hand on you right now?” C’s still sniffling, but they nod and mumble a weak “yes”, and A gently lets their hand rest on this stranger’s shoulder.

“C, I want to respect what you want right now. But you should know that you’re very sick. And you’ve managed in your own way - how, I have no idea - but you need some help right now. Now I can either call the hospital and let them handle it, or take you home with me. It’s up to you. Otherwise, you need to look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you want to be left alone through this.”

They squeeze C’s shoulder, and it triggers a deep gasping sob from their broken, aching body, sending a fault line straight through A’s heart. The sob turns to weeping, and A can barely make out the words C whimpers: "I don't want to hurt anymore."

God, who broke this poor thing? A bites their lip. C’s losing it. They’re running out of options short of forcing C to come with them, and that’s the last thing they want to do to a delirious, love-starved person who’s known them all of 6 minutes.

“C, I’m not gonna hurt you. I want to help you. Heck, even B wants to help you. I had to practically pin them down to the bed before leaving, they were so hell bent on this rescue.”

C’s red, swollen eyes meet A’s. “You mean….they asked after me?”

“Yes. They did. They could hardly stop talking about you once they came to their senses.” A rubs C’s knee through the blankets. “And they’d never forgive me if I left you here alone - they were very adamant about that. So if you want to save me a lot of arguing with and consoling of a very sad B, you’d actually be doing me a favor coming back with me.”

C seems to be weighing their options, all while struggling to stay awake on the couch. “I mean…if it saves you the trouble….”

A’s the one nodding vigorously now. “Please. It would.” Please. Just come back with me. I can’t leave you here like this. But I don’t know what else to do.

C presses themselves up off the couch with a single shaking arm. “Well, if it’d help you, then I accept.” And then they promptly pass out into A’s waiting arms.

It’s late when A gets back home with a limp C, and B is knocked out in their room, light still on - they’d tried to wait up, but their body still craved rest.

A carries C over the threshold and into the house. They gently lay the bundle on the bed and feel their forehead - still too hot, but the medicine seemed to be working. They manage to wake C up enough to take a few sips of broth from a mug before they pass out again.

For the briefest moment, A lets their hand touch C's shoulder again, making a silent promise they barely know how to keep: I don't know who broke you, but I'm not gonna let you hurt any more. I won't allow it.

A wave of exhaustion floods their body as they feel the effects of several late nights and long days of caretaking. They'd be no good to anyone if they didn't get any rest. A drapes an extra blanket over C’s sleeping form and heads for the couch for the night - they’d check back in an hour or so.

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

B’s awakened by the sound of sniffling. And it’s not theirs. They blink tentatively in the lamplight, sleep clouding their thoughts. Snatching a blanket from the top of their bed, they wrap up, stuffed animal under one arm, and shuffle across the hall to see where the sound is coming from.

It’s C, swathed in two blankets, holding a wad of tissues and trembling like a leaf. B flicks on the bedside table lamp, and C winces at the light. B can see the tear stains on their cheeks.

“Cold,” C whimpers, coughing weakly. Pity floods B - it’s like looking at a picture of themselves just a few days ago. They reach out and put their hand on C’s head, and C leans into the touch.

“Yeah, this part sucks,” B says softly, guilt flooding their core. Sure, they didn’t mean to make C sick. But they did. And they felt a certain responsibility to make sure they made it through okay - just like C had cared for them on the plane.

“Can I get you anything? Another blanket, tea, medicine?”

“Throat hurts…water…please?” B nods and places the stuffed animal next to C before beginning the long, slow shuffle to the kitchen. A’s asleep on the couch, and they can’t bear to wake them up for something this small. But by the time they get to the kitchen, their legs are trembling with exertion. Easy there. You’re still sick, too.

They brace themselves against the sink as the glass fills, and will themselves to make the final journey back to C. By the time they’ve returned, the glass feels like a lead weight in their hand, and their entire body is chilled and shivery all over. They do their best to help C take a few sips, holding the glass with trembling hands, bracing themselves on the bed so they don’t tip over.

“Thank….thank you,” C’s grateful eyes meet theirs, and in a split second B knows the effort was worth it. But the validation is replaced with a bout of lightheadedness that nearly topples them onto C.

“Sorry,” B gasps. “Still not up to marathons yet. Just...need a minute.” They tug their blanket tighter, closing their eyes. “And this body forgot how to stay warm when I do stuff.” C’s eyes flood with concern - even in their fevered haze, they can see B struggling.

"Want to sit for a minute?" C asks softly, patting the open spot next to them on the bed. “I’m still cold, too.”

B wriggles into the spot, propping themselves up on pillows and pulling blankets over them both. "Just a minute - you need your sleep."

C's already dozing. "S'okay. I'll sleep just fine. 'Sides, you're warm." C's nestled themselves into B's side, head resting on their chest, and B wraps an arm around C's shoulder and holds them close. They’re warm, too. Just a minute....

Many minutes later, A pokes their head in to check in on C - and finds two sick peas in a pod curled up together, C's head still on B's chest, B's arm curled protectively around C, stuffed animal squished between them, both tangled in blankets and Kleenexes.

In spite of their own exhaustion, A smiles. After everything that had happened, they had a feeling C wouldn't ever be alone again.

#sickfic #sickfic whump #whump prompt #hurt comfort #soft whump #caretaking #i just couldn't stop writing #so this happened lol #i don't even know who the whumpee is at this point #everyone is the whumpee and everyone is the caretaker #where is the plot?? who can say #anyways enjoy this soft whumpy mess!!

[ao3komorii]

In The Light (Dick Grayson{Nightwing}/Reader)

The Nightwing story is here at last! Had a few setbacks with this one due to real life issues, but happy to finally get it out! Batman has a whole lot of canon, so I did my best to write all the characters as accurately as possible. Also, most of my Nightwing canon is from Nightwing vol 6. The Untouchable, so that’s where a lot of the odd references come from. Hope you enjoy!

---

“Have a nice day. I’m glad we could get that sorted out for you!” you said with a pleasant smile, as if you hadn’t just spent the past forty minutes being yelled at over two dollars and forty-five cents of library fines by a middle-aged man whose B.O. had literally been giving you a headache.

“Bludhaven Public Library will be closing in twenty minutes,” came the announcement from the speaker mounted on the wall beside the circulation desk.

Closing the man’s file on your computer, you let out a quiet sigh. Today hadn’t been the worst first day at a new job you’d ever had, but this place sure lived up to its reputation. Though that was exactly why you had come here in the first place.

You had found a nice apartment on the edge of the ritzy Avalon Hills section of the city, found a job, and then moved from your nice, safe hometown to what was essentially the criminal capital of New Jersey. You were glad you had your library diploma, although Bludhaven Public Library was just happy to have anyone not be too scared to apply to work there, so you had gotten the job easily.

It was a relief that the workday ended without any big dramas, which meant you could leave work on time right at five. If you had any hope of being awake and alert during your first patrol later, you had to get home and take a nap. This place would not be very forgiving to a sleepy hero at two in the morning.

You weren’t fully comfortable with the title of hero, but you couldn’t really think of a better word. From an early age, you had felt a sense that you had to use what you had been given to do some good in the world, but superheroing didn’t pay the bills, so librarian-slash-superhero it was.

You had gone into the hospital at age fifteen for a suspected broken wrist, and came out a victim of a level four radiological event. You had unknowingly been the first patient to receive an x-ray using a new form of radiation, or at least you would have been if the material hadn’t gone unexpectedly critical, instantly serving the nurse with a fatal dose of radiation that had slowly taken her life over the next few days.

At the time, you had been wearing a lead apron and had been sitting across the room from the machine, so you had received a much lower, survivable dose of radiation. After a few days of fever and nausea, you were released from the hospital, and after a threat of a medical malpractice suit, you were set up with enough money to pay for college anywhere you wanted to go.

You had only learned of the nurse’s painful death from overhearing a conversation in the hallway outside your hospital room. The hospital had disposed of the unstable radioactive material, and then smothered the story to ashes, the new x-ray machine never making it to market.

You hadn’t noticed anything weird until a year after the initial incident. You had been in bed studying for your English final when your bedside lamp had winked out, plunging your room into darkness. Figuring it to be a freak occurrence, you got up to turn on your light, only for that to wink out too. It had taken until you had gone to find your parents, only for the hall light to go out too that you realized that maybe you were the freak occurrence.

In your panic, you failed to notice until you re-entered your room that the palms of your hands were glowing. After some trial and error, and probably too much googling, you had managed to mostly work things out for yourself.

Radiation accidents were uncommon, and usually resulted in death or sickness, but you were able to find one useful result. Dr. Alex Sartorius, a scientist with intentions of building a nuclear power plant in Gotham City, had become disfigured by a nuclear meltdown incident, the resulting condition leaving him in a constant state of being on fire, his skeleton visible through his skin. The article listed him as Doctor Phosphorus, his chosen name as he ascended to villainy with his new powers, the accompanying picture of him fighting Batman enough to send a chill down your spine.

You couldn’t find anything about radiation sickness giving anyone the ability to steal light from light fixtures, so you were forced to figure things out for yourself. Without telling your parents, you tested the limits of your new powers on every light you could find, emerging out on the other side with confidence in your abilities, but no idea what you were supposed to do now.

Not only could you steal and manipulate light into shapes and colors, but during one overexcited foray involving a street light, you discovered that you could also turn the light into physical matter, and then back into light. You had largely sat on this information, afraid to take the last step into what you had been considering until you had graduated university.

No longer living with your parents, you would be free to come and go whenever you wanted without arousing suspicions, and it was then that you decided to begin your hobby as a masked crime fighter. You had been pretty decent at the javelin in high school, a habit that had translated into your tendency to use javelins of solid light against criminals, and led to your chosen hero moniker Lightspear.

At first, you were satisfied with stopping the occasional mugger or carjacker, but it got old quick. The longer you were on the scene, the less crime there was. You knew that you should probably be happy that crime rates were going way down, but you just felt unsatisfied. You could be doing so much more good than you were able to in this town; you felt like you owed it to victims of crime to use your powers for the largest amount of good possible, and you knew that your self-imposed mission no longer fit with your life in your small hometown.

You had felt lost, unsure of what to do, until trouble had struck close to home. Your best friend’s older brother had been in and out of trouble since his early teens, getting involved with every drug you had heard of, and some you hadn’t. But this time, he had gone too far.

You had been sleeping off a late night patrol when she had come by, banging on your door until you opened it to see her standing on your doorstep with tears in her eyes. You hadn’t seen Kamila Parra since she had been shipped off to live with her distant aunt in Gotham City after her brother had become too much for her to live with. The potentially happy reunion had been immediately ruined as she had informed you that she was back in town for her brother’s funeral.

He had finally gone too far with his drug use, but it wasn’t that fact that stunned you, but a week later when you had opened your laptop to see a breaking news article at the top of your newsfeed.

Emile Parra was far from the only life to be lost to drugs in the past week. The author of the article had connected no less than thirty deaths in the past week to some new drug called cherry, the chemical makeup of which the police had been struggling to analyze. The drugs had appeared on the scene out of nowhere, and seemed to be fatal, several victims being known to have taken the drug in pill form around twenty-four hours before their deaths.

You devoured the article with increasing horror. A lot of it had been speculation, the police tight-lipped about information except to put out a statement recommending against taking illegal drugs. The article had ended with the author’s assertion that these drugs had to be coming out of Bludhaven, a mecha for all things criminal, which was when you had decided. You needed to do more than catch a purse snatcher a month, and in a city full of criminal activity, there would be no lack of problems for you to solve, starting with tracking down whoever was responsible for the drug that had killed Kamila’s brother and thirty-odd others. To Bludhaven it was.

The streets were decently busy for the early evening, but this wasn’t the crowd you were interested in. Nobody was dealing the real hard drugs until the midnight hours anyways, so that’s when you intended to be out here on patrol. You had taken the bus to work, not wanting to be late, but decided to walk the forty minute walk back to your apartment to try and get a better feel of this city, considering you intended on staying here for a while.

You passed by churches and parks, making mental notes of any areas of interest you intended to revisit on patrol later. You had done some research on this place before you had moved, but it was an entirely different thing being here and seeing the streets for yourself. The casinos were another potential point of interest; it seemed that much of this place ran on money from the casinos, though the thought gave you pause. What would a casino tycoon get from flooding the streets with a hundred-percent-fatal drug? Guaranteed death meant no addiction, and no more money. You weren’t a drug kingpin, but it was clear that cherry was bad for business.

So who was responsible then? What would motivate someone to produce a drug that would only really take out drug addicts? Someone who wanted to get rid of drug users? It was plainly obvious to you how out of your depth you were here; taking down a drug operation was a far cry from any of the petty crimes you had dealt with back in your hometown, not that you were about to let that stop you.

This place was obviously seedy, but that didn’t mean that’s all it was. You took notice of an old woman with her grandchildren in the park who had come by the library earlier, the kids excited for a book that had just been released. Confronting criminal behavior wasn’t easy, but seeing people like that just going about their day made your efforts feel worth it. You owed it to these people to do everything you could to keep them safe.

You stopped to pick up a sandwich from a café for dinner before retreating to your apartment, eager for bed. Setting your alarm for midnight, you crawled under the covers, forcing your nerves to the side in order to get yourself some sleep.

 It was pitch black outside when your alarm went off. Getting out of bed, you stretched your arms above your head as you stared out of your window down at the streets below.

Fully awake, you made your way to your closet, parting the rack of clothing to reach the secret hanger you kept at the back of your closet.

Changing into your hero outfit, you stood in front of your mirror, checking yourself over. The white jacket over tight white pants tucked into white knee-length boots combo had resulted from a mix of trial and error. While the costume was tight-fitting, it was still comfortable, the jacket adorned with silver reflective stripes to aide you with gathering light when you needed it.

To complete the ensemble, you picked up the white mask on your dresser, affixing it to your face. The mask was simple but effective, white reflective material over the eyes of the mask to hide your eyes from view. You could not afford an identity slip-up, least of all in a place like Bludhaven.

After grabbing a few mini-flashlights and your phone, you were off, heading down the fire escape and onto the street. You had tried to do some research, but of course no drug dealing operation was going to just put all their information online for anyone to see, so you didn’t have a lot to work off of. The best you could do was take note of which locations in the city had the most articles mentioning them in relation to arrests for drug offenses.

Number one on the resulting list had been Melville Park. Seven of the ten most recent drug arrest articles had referenced the park as an arresting location, including one article that went into detail on the arrest of a small-time dealer by the interesting name of Jailbird Thompson. No mention of any cherry being dealt, but you would take whatever lead you could get your hands on.

The park was a twenty minute walk from your apartment, but you decided to take a longer route so you could go down less populated streets. There was no way such a den of criminal activity would take kindly to someone in a mask, so it was all the more important for you to go about your business as unseen as possible.

You had only just turned onto Halyard Street when you heard it. The female scream stopped you in your tracks, and you quickly turned in the direction of the scream, sprinting towards a nearby alleyway when you heard another scream.

It didn’t take you too long to locate the source of the screams, running down winding alleyways until you came upon a man with a knife cornering a woman in a waitress uniform against the wall.

“Try somethin’ like that again and I ain’t gonna be so nice,” the man growled. He sounded drunk, which for the woman was likely terrifying, but made you feel more confident. Drunks were always easier to take down, the only issue being the knife in his hand.

The frightened woman didn’t have time for you to fully formulate a plan, so you decided to go on instinct this time, stepping out into the alleyway.

“Hey!” you called out, stepping forward into the light of a small overhead bulb above a rusty door.

The man jerked back, turning halfway to face you, the knife in his hand now pulled away from the woman, creating the perfect opportunity for you to strike without hurting the woman. In an instant, you stole the light from the bulb overhead, turning it into a short spear and sending it full-force at the hand that held the knife. As expected, the knife clattered to the floor as the spear impaled his hand, the man clutching his injured hand to his chest.

“Move!” you shouted at the woman, who used her attacker’s momentary distraction to slide out from behind him.

“Hey!” the man slurred. “Get… get back here you little bitch!”

He made a grab for the woman, but he was too slow, impaired by intoxication and pain. You dissolved the spear in his hand, quickly clicking on one of your belt flashlights to create a cage of light, using it to push the man against the wall. The mugger’s eyes were wide with panic, but the bars of light that surrounded him had no give even as he slammed against them.

Knowing he was trapped until you dissolved the light cage, you turned your attention to the woman. “Call the police. I’ll stay with you until they get here.”

“I…” She seemed stunned, taking a few seconds to right herself and pull her phone out of her purse to call the police. Hanging up after a short conversation, she finally broke, sliding to the floor as the mugger continued to angrily sputter at you both.

“The police will be here soon,” you said. “They’ll escort you home.”

“I just…” she sniffled. “If you hadn’t come… I thought I’d never see my son again.”

“You will,” you replied. “But maybe stick to well-lit streets from now on. No shortcut is worth the chance of running into creeps like him.”

“You’re right,” she murmured with a weary sigh. “I just want to go home.”

You could hear the sound of distant sirens getting closer. Must have been a slow night for such a fast police response.

As the sirens came to a stop nearby, you figured it was probably time for you to go. You hadn’t had many interactions with police before, but superheroism tended to be a gray area with them, and you would really prefer not to have a clash with police when you still had plans for tonight.

“Wait, where are you going?” the woman asked, looking frantically from you to the man.

“I’ll keep the cage up until the police get here, but I can’t stay,” you said. “You’ll be fine. They’ll take you home to your son.”

She nodded. “Thank you!”

You backed up as you heard footsteps rapidly approaching from the opposite end of the alleyway. Exiting the alley, you waited until the police were on the scene before dropping the cage, trusting the police to take care of the cleanup. The police chatter faded as you retraced your route through the alleys you had come through until you were back on Halyard Street, ready to continue onto the park.

You shivered, the outside air especially chilly at this time of night. You were almost to the park, just taking a shortcut through an alley behind a deli when you were startled by a sudden voice behind you.

“Maybe you should consider adding a cape to the costume to keep away the chill.”

You spun around, immediately on high alert, to see a masked man in black leaning against the grimy alley wall, his arms crossed over his chest in a very casual manner. His clearly-muscular body was clad in a tight black suit with a light blue V across his chest and shoulders, bands of that same blue just under his knees. Dark bangs swooped across his forehead, and below that a blue mask covered his upper face, some sort of material blocking his eyes from sight, just like yours were.

You took a step away from him, feeling wary. He didn’t look like any of the criminals native to the area that you had seen in your research before coming to Bludhaven, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

“White isn’t a great color to wear if you don’t want to stand out in this city,” he added, pushing himself off the wall and approaching you. “And not that I mind the view, but it may be smarter to wear a breastplate when you’re engaging with criminals.”

You looked briefly down at your jacket; you were aware it was decently low-cut, but what business of his was your hero outfit? And not that it would matter to him, but white happened to be the most reflective color, which was imperative for your powers to work at their full potential, not to mention–

You should probably save your internal ranting for later.

Shifting your weight to one hip, you frowned at the masked man. “Who are you and what do you want?”

He raised both hands in surrender, clearly picking up on your frosty mood. “Easy. I saw how you handled that mugger and wanted to introduce myself.”

“Who. Are. You?” you stressed, not feeling particularly patient around the mystery man.

He seemed mildly taken aback by your attitude, but recovered quickly, offering you a hand. “Nightwing. And you are…?”

His name didn’t ring any bells for you, and you resolved to google it later. You debated not answering him, but figured you could throw him one bone considering he hadn’t yet attacked you.

“Lightspear,” you answered, turning away from him and heading towards the park. You weren’t about to let some jerk in a mask distract you from what you had intended to do tonight.

Unfortunately for you, Nightwing wasn’t quite done pestering you, as he quickly caught up to you, walking by your side.

“I take it you’re new in town?” he asked as you both crossed onto the grass.

You sighed; he really didn’t want to take the hint. You didn’t need some guy, whoever he was, distracting you right now. He clearly wasn’t going to leave you alone, so you would have to break out a trick you hadn’t used since your junior year of college when you had to lose a creep who had tried to follow you home.

“Yep, brand new,” you answered, doing your best to sound innocent as you prepared to enact your plan.

“I could tell,” he said with a teasing smile. “Not many people move here. It’s usually the other way around.”

You slowed your steps as you got to the path that led into the park. Hoping you could still pull it off, you stilled as you reached the path, using ambient light to cloak yourself while projecting an illusion of yourself walking down the path with Nightwing, who seemed none the wiser. You would have to time this perfectly, waiting until he was further down the path before making your escape.

You knew that the illusion would disappear the moment it left your sight, so you quickly backed away, turning the corner and rushing into a gross-looking public bathroom. You knew that the fake you would be gone now, so you probably needed to wait out some time in here before heading home. Nightwing seemed awfully persistent, so you would have to resume your investigation another day.

You were glad you had thought ahead as you unzipped your jacket to promptly reverse it inside-out, the now-outer purple fabric looking like an entirely different jacket. Taking off your mask, you hid it in your bra before doing your best to style your hair a little differently.

By the time you were done trying to change your look enough, twenty minutes had passed. You wanted to get home, but began to second guess yourself; what if he was still out there trying to find you?

In the end, you had settled for calling a cab to take you home to keep yourself off the streets. The ride wasn’t cheap; the driver had wanted to go home after driving one too many groups of drunk partiers around, but you had managed to beg him into making you his last ride of the night.

You quickly dashed into your building, not seeing any masked men staking out your apartment but also not willing to risk any delay in getting back inside.

What a disappointing first patrol. All you had learned was that you weren’t the only person running around in a mask in this place, which was of exactly zero use to your drug investigation. If anything, it was a hindrance. You could only hope Nightwing would have something better to do the next time you were out patrolling.

 It was a slow day at the library the next day, so you took advantage of the lack of patrons to do some research on the frustrating figure that had ruined your planned reconnaissance outing.

The internet, it seemed, was split on Nightwing. There were several articles, including a video interview with the mayor who referred to Nightwing as a menace. You also found several sources that even you found to be unfairly biased against the masked vigilante, including one where the reporter had itemized what he labelled Nightwing’s Property Damage Bill, listing everything the vigilante was believed to have damaged during fights. The list was surprisingly detailed, going back several years and leading you to wonder exactly what Nightwing had done to make this reporter hate him so much. He hadn’t exactly made a great first impression on you, but even you weren’t about to go waste your time writing long-winded hate articles about the guy.

On the other hand, there were also articles praising him, and no shortage of photos taken of him in action against one villain or another. He didn’t seem to be a bad guy, but clearly one that didn’t understand personal space.

You had also pretty quickly discovered the connection between him and Batman. You were embarrassingly unaware of heroes for someone who aimed to be one yourself, but even you had heard of Batman. His philosophy of avoiding causing death at all costs had really made an impression on you back in your early days of testing your powers. You were in this to prevent death after all, so killing criminals yourself made little sense. From what you could tell, Nightwing seemed to be the same way, but if you asked the Nightwing-hating reporter, he would likely have a list ready of every elderly person to ever have heart palpitations while watching a clip of Nightwing on the news.

Sure, he didn’t seem to be an awful guy, if your googling was anything to go on, but that didn’t mean you wanted him poking around in your investigation. You were trying to get to the source of the cherry, preferably without alerting whoever was behind it that you were coming after them, and by the look of him, Nightwing did not seem to understand the meaning of the term low profile. You would be just fine alone.

“That troublemaker done something new?” a cranky voice asked from behind you.

You turned to see Gertrude, or Gertie, as she insisted you call her, standing behind you, a frown on her wrinkled face. Gertie was the oldest, and coincidentally the strictest librarian on staff. For some reason she seemed to like you, a fact one of the cleaners had told you was highly unusual for her, and you would prefer to keep it that way after watching her lecture a patron who had brought a coffee cup in the library for a full twenty minutes earlier. And by the tone of her voice, you would have to come up with an excuse for your googling, and fast.

“No,” you dismissed, forcing a smile. “A patron came by earlier asking for help finding articles on Nightwing for an assignment, so I said I would have some articles to show them when they came back again after class.”

Gertie nodded approvingly as she looked over your shoulder at the window you had panic-alt-tabbed to, which happened to be the article with the property damage list. “You’ve got one of my personal favorites there. These masked maniacs need someone to hold them accountable for the damage they do to our beautiful city. I also enjoyed the article he wrote on the benefits of anti-vigilante hotlines. These so-called heroes do more damage to our society than criminals could ever dream of, you know.”

You politely nodded as you listened to her anti-hero rant, offhandedly wondering how she would react if she knew that she was currently talking to one of those masked maniacs she hated so much.

You were eventually saved by a man coming in eating a messy sandwich, which drew Gertie towards him like an uptight elderly moth to a flame. With a relived sigh, you quickly closed all of the Nightwing tabs on your computer, hoping that Gertie would forget all about him by the time she was done lecturing her newest victim.

 Nightwing had to have better things to do than follow you a second time, you figured, but his appearance the first time was enough to inspire some caution in you. You were anxious to get back out there, to stop this dangerous drug before it could kill more people, but you forced the urge down and waited a full week before going out on another patrol. You hadn’t seen anything about Nightwing in the news, but hopefully he would be off fighting some intergalactic war or something. But as always as of late, you weren’t that lucky.

You had even taken a different path than the week previous, giving into your maybe-unfounded paranoia as you once again made your way to Melville Park. You were just about at the park, crossing over a small bridge, when your night was once again interrupted by a voice you had hoped to not hear again.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Shoulders sagging, you looked ahead to see a dark figure leaning against a tree, blue mask glinting in the moonlight. With a sigh, you turned around to leave the park. There were other places you could investigate if he had called dibs on this park or something.

“Hey, where are you going?” he called out, jogging to catch up to you.

“Anywhere else,” you groaned as he easily caught up to your side.

“What’s your problem?” he asked. “I feel like a door-to-door salesman with how often you keep slamming the metaphorical door in my face.”

You didn’t have time or patience for this banter right now. Another ruined night of patrol. Well, you would just have to give him the slip and try again later.

Walking from the bridge back onto the sidewalk, you cloaked yourself as you walked left, sending your illusionary self right. After you got home, you would be treating yourself to that slice of chocolate cheesecake in your fridge you had been saving. You deserved it for all the irritation you’d had to put up with lately.

Looking behind you as you turned the corner, you hadn’t expected the collision with someone coming from the other direction. Turning back as their hands gripped your arms to steady you, the sorry died on your lips as you discovered exactly who it was you had bumped into.

Your camouflage had broken in your surprise as you stared wide-eyed at a grinning Nightwing. He shouldn’t have been able to see you, even if your illusionary self had disappeared. You had practiced that technique for months to perfect it, so how–

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “But I promised myself I wasn’t going to fall for that trick a second time.”

With a frustrated growl, you wrenched your arms out of his grasp. “What is wrong with you?”

He raised an eyebrow, putting one hand to his chin in contemplation. “Are you looking for a serious answer, or…?”

“Why do you keep following me?” you hissed, anger and exasperation taking over. “I’m fine by myself!”

“Where have I heard that before…” he muttered to himself. “Listen, I see you’re clearly after something, and I can help. I know this city pretty well and–”

“How do you know I’m not some new villain?” you challenged, turning away from him. “You could be offering to help the next Joker right now.”

You had started to walk away from him again, but were stopped by him flipping through the air and landing directly in your path. You stopped still, not having expected that. The Nightwing-hating reporter had clearly failed to mention his acrobatic skills in his hate articles, the only mention of Nightwing’s athletic abilities that you could recall being one snide comment about him running from his civil liabilities. But just because he could do a backflip didn’t mean you wanted to bring anyone else in on your investigation, no matter how nice his ass looked in his skintight suit.

“Well, I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve got my number, so just give me a call if you want some backup.”

You opened your mouth to inform him that you did not in fact have his number, when he tossed something your way. You caught the object, looking down to see your phone in your hands, open to a contact page for Nightwing, complete with a photo of the man himself grinning at the camera. When had he–

“Think about it,” he said again, taking a step back from you. “Now I know when I’m not wanted, so just give me a call if you change your mind.”

With a last smile, he shot out his wrist, some sort of rope projectile shooting out from somewhere on his arm and pulling him up onto a building and out of sight, leaving you with a last look forward to hearing from you, Lightspear!

You huffed, turning back to return to the park. You doubted that you would have need of that masked stalker’s help any time soon, but if it would keep him off your back, you would keep his contact info in your phone for now.

Stowing your phone back in your pocket, you crossed back over the bridge, passing the tree that no longer had a Nightwing leaning against it. Hopefully he kept his word and stayed out of your business this time.

You did a slow walk around the park, trying to make sure you didn’t miss anything. The park was very empty, the only thing of note being a fat raccoon digging through some trash, at least until you began to approach the parking lot.

At first, you didn’t see anything, not until you were about to walk past the lot, stopping in your tracks as you noticed a shock of red against the gray of the asphalt. Creeping closer, you discovered that the red you had seen was from a hoodie, worn by a bedraggled-looking man standing opposite a man in a leather jacket. The two looked to be having some sort of disagreement, which prompted you to move even closer, taking up a position behind a dumpster in order to listen in.

“C’mon, you know I’m good for the money,” the guy in the red hoodie begged. “My sister will spot me the cash when she gets in tomorrow from Phillie. I just… I just need a fix. Even a little one. Please.”

You could only see the back of the other man from where you were hiding, but by his staunch posture and the stiffness in his shoulders, he didn’t seem to be moved by the man’s pleas.

“I sell to junkies, Gene, not broke junkies,” the dealer replied unsympathetically. “You want charity? Go to the Salvation Army.”

“I’ll give you double on payday, just please man–”

This was getting hard to listen to, and you weren’t the only one to think so.

“Stop groveling!” the dealer demanded, letting out an irritated huff. “If you’ll leave me alone, I’ll give you something for a quick high.”

Your eyes narrowed at the dealer’s words, but you were still having a hard time seeing much from your position behind him. You would have to get closer. Just as you were scoping out a place to hide that would give you a better view of the scene, the dealer’s next words stopped you in your tracks.

“This is only a sample, but you shouldn’t need more. Remember, you asked for it,” the dealer said, pulling something out of his jacket pocket.

“Is it some kinda X?” Gene asked, eagerly taking the proffered pill from the dealer.

“Better,” the dealer answered, sounding cagey. “Lower high, bigger crash. But it’s what I got for non-paying customers. Take it or leave it.”

“Can I get one more, to last till my sister gets into town?” Gene asked.

“You won’t need more than one,” the dealer said gruffly. “Cherry hits ya harder than a whole fistful of X.”

There it was, the confirmation that this move to Bludhaven hadn’t been a mistake. You weren’t about to let what happened to Kamila’s brother happen to someone else if you had the power to stop it.

Leaping out from behind the dumpster, you quickly got in a position where you could clearly see the shiny red circular pill in Gene’s palm, his hand raised halfway towards his mouth. Unwilling to give him the chance to kill himself, you snatched the light from a nearby streetlight, using a small amount of it to zap the pill in his hand out of existence.

Gene yelped, falling back onto his butt in shock, but the dealer was quicker to react, taking one look at you before fleeing through the parking lot and towards the direction you had come from.

You stopped momentarily to address the still-stunned Gene. “Cherry are death pills. When your sister gets here tomorrow, ask her to help you check into rehab and get some help, Gene.”

You couldn’t waste any more time, turning and leaving Gene behind to chase after the dealer, who was now most of the way across the parking lot. You ran after him, lights winking out as you collected light as you ran. He got all the way to the bridge before you struck, using a chunk of your stored light to create a wall to block the dealer from exiting the bridge.

You tossed a spear of light at him, which pinned him back against the wall by the shoulder of his jacket. Using his surprise to your advantage, you quickly followed up with more spears until he was securely pinned against the wall of light by his clothes. He struggled vainly against the bindings, but you knew they would hold.

It seemed like he was able to throw most of his supply into the water before you could stop him, which was frustrating, but it wasn’t his supply that you were after.

“Where did you get the cherry?” you asked, doing your best to sound intimidating.

The dealer was shaking, refusing to make eye contact. You didn’t have to be an expert to know that this man was not the source of the cherry. Everything from his patchy beard to his lack of weapons screamed low level drug dealer, but that didn’t mean you were letting him off easy.

“Where did you get it?” you shouted, materializing an especially sharp-looking spear in your hand and taking a step towards him.

The threat was enough.

“A lady! She gave ‘em to me!” he cried out. “Told me to give ‘em to anyone givin’ me trouble!”

“Did she tell you they kill whoever takes them within a day?” you asked, the lack of surprise in his face giving you your answer. “She did, and you didn’t care.”

“Just kill me already,” he sneered. “Spare me the moral lecture.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” you said. “Not if you tell me who the woman is.”

You weren’t going to kill him either way, but he didn’t need to know that. Not like he had a lot of options right now anyways, pinned to your light wall like a well-used pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey game.

“I don’t know!” he wailed. “She wore a mask!”

You sighed. Of course it wouldn’t just be that easy. You couldn’t say you weren’t expecting the pushback, but you needed something to go off of from this lead.

“A name,” you demanded. “Give me her name and I’ll leave you alone.”

“She didn’t tell me her real name!” he replied, eyes on your spear as you brought it closer to him. “Called herself Parasis, but she didn’t tell me any actual name, I swear–”

That would work. You dissolved the spear in your hand, and the man slumped against the wall of light in relief.

You stepped back, reaching down to pick up the dealer’s cellphone from where it had fallen to the ground in his haste to ditch his drugs. Ignoring the dealer’s sputtering, you swiped up on the screen, selecting the option to make an emergency call.

“Hi, I made a citizen’s arrest on a drug dealer in Melville Park, by the south bridge,” you told the person at the dispatch who had answered, purposefully making your voice higher than it was normally. You weren’t about to risk any issues if this call got played on the news later when this low-level dealer likely squealed to the police about your existence.

After confirming they were sending someone, you hung up the phone before tossing it into the water and making to leave the bridge.

“You can’t just leave me here!” the dealer snarled. “You said–”

“I said I would leave you alone, not the police,” you corrected, turning back to face him with a stern look on your face. “You’re lucky I’m not doing worse. You don’t really seem to care, but you almost killed someone tonight just because they were annoying you. A jail cell to reflect in for a few weeks is the least I can do for you.”

The man wasn’t fazed by your words, as you figured he wouldn’t be. But you weren’t done with him just yet. Taking up a position behind a tree, you kept up his light prison, watching him struggle and shout fruitlessly until a pair of Bludhaven police officers showed up. You waited until they had approached the bound man before dissolving the light, watching the officers cuff the man before slinking away.

Walking into a more heavily wooded area of the park, you did your usual de-costuming process, returning to the streets looking less like a superhero and more like a worker getting off the late shift. You would really need to start hiding a bag of nondescript clothing somewhere on patrol nights.

You returned to your apartment tired, but determined. You had a lead now, a real lead. You had never heard of Parasis before, but that wasn’t a surprise. There were always new small-time villains coming onto the scene all the time, so it was hard to keep up with who was doing what on the villain scene.

A quick google search on Parasis told you nothing. In fact, google had assumed that you had made a typo, since all the results were talking about paralysis. The only results for Parasis exactly were some obscure company websites that were clearly not relevant, unless small French engineering firms were suddenly interested in operating a drug ring in Bludhaven.

Closing your laptop, you tried not to feel discouraged. Sitting back down on your bed, you decided to review what you knew.

As far as you were currently aware, the person at the head of the spread of cherry was a woman going by the name of Parasis. Cherry, a drug in pill form notable for both its twenty-four hour time from consumption to death as well as its notable side effect of leaving the whites of its victim’s eyes cherry red in the last stage before death had begun in your city, but seemed to have originated somewhere in Bludhaven. And lastly, so far the victims seemed to be exclusively ordinary drug addicts, supplied by low-level drug dealers given a supply of the drug by Parasis.

Nothing about this made any sense to you, which meant that you were probably missing something important. Parasis clearly didn’t care about having a real drug empire, otherwise she wouldn’t be killing off potential customers. But if dealing drugs wasn’t the goal, then what was?

Well at the very least, you had a name to ask around about now, and all thanks to your own hard work! You were fully capable of investigating on your own, at least now that Nightwing had agreed to leave you alone. You knew that you could handle things by yourself, and now that you had a lead, you were going to prove it.

 After that, you had hit the ground running, spending every night interrogating drug dealers about the mysterious Parasis. Most had no idea what you were talking about, at least until Thursday evening, where you had miraculously come upon a larger-scale drug deal between a gang leader and some casino owner you had read about in an article on corruption in the Bludhaven gambling industry recently.

As much as you would have liked to have them all arrested, you had to keep in mind the sheer number of guns in the area. The gang leader had seemed rather nonchalant when you had inquired about Parasis, agreeing to give you information on her if you left him to his business in return. Feeling somewhat conflicted, you had agreed to his deal; you could come after him when you had taken care of the cherry issue first.

He had given you a location and a time, telling you he had already intended not to make any deals with Parasis, stating your earlier hypothesis that he would prefer his customers to be alive to sell more drugs to. He told you that you would be doing him a favor taking her out, and to let him know if there was a pay-per-view option to watch you girlies fight it out. The last comment had drawn raucous laughter at your expense from his men, but you forced yourself to ignore it, instead leaving with the information and the mental note that the drug boss was now officially next on your list after Parasis.

The Gulvern Shipping Company warehouse, just over Littleneck Marrows Bridge in South Bludhaven. Friday at eight P.M. If the gang leader’s information was correct, then Parasis would be waiting there with a pallet of little red death pills.

Considering all you had to do was sit back and wait until Friday, you found yourself surprised at just how your Friday was turning out.

First you had woken up late, and in your haste had spilled your breakfast all over your hero costume that you had laid out the night before. With no time to spare, you rushed off to work, where you began to genuinely wonder if there was something in the water to account for how many rude patrons had come and go in the library all day. You hadn’t even gotten to your lunch break, taking off for it early when an elderly man who had previously been yelling at you over a book he had damaged suddenly switched gears, inquiring how a girl like you isn’t married, as well as informing you that if you were his wife, you would know not to dress like such a whore. How capri business pants and a long-sleeved blouse were too risqué for him was beyond you, but you couldn’t take him anymore. Passing by Gertie on your way to the staff room, you informed her of the situation and she gleefully rushed over to give the old creep a lecture over the damaged book that would likely make him wish she was sending him to an early grave.

Your afternoon had been occupied with less sexist, but not particularly less draining patron interactions. Three classes of elementary schoolers had come in for a project, leaving you to try and keep them from yelling, running and throwing books at each other while trying to answer questions from regular patrons. Your day had been one exhausting mess, and it wasn’t even close to over.

After taking a much-needed after-work nap to try and regain your strength for your appointment with Parasis later, you woke up to find your costume jacket fixable, but your pants stained beyond anything you could fix without the help of an emergency dry cleaner.

Left with no choice, you were forced to substitute the stained pants for the only other suitable white piece of clothing in your wardrobe… a flowy white miniskirt. Reminding yourself that this was only for tonight, you zipped up your jacket, purple side facing out, mask and phone in your pockets, and headed out, resolving to bring your pants to the dry cleaner first thing tomorrow.

Catching a cab to South Bludhaven, you mentally readied yourself for the fast-approaching conversation. You had bought some new mini-flashlights on your way home from work, so you would definitely have enough power to take on a wannabe drug dealer.

As you stepped out of the taxi, you could feel your nerves beginning to creep up on you, but pushed them back down. You were more than capable of handling this, and you needed to end this before it got a chance to take off. Before more people died.

The Gulvern Shipping Company warehouse wasn’t difficult to find, especially if you were searching for a perfect place to make deadly drug deals in secret. Looking out at the large gray building, you couldn’t imagine anyone wouldn’t choose it in a police lineup of suspicious warehouses.

There were no other warehouses near this one, the closest one a five-minute walk away. Near the entrance to the warehouse sat a sleek red car with its plates removed, only adding to the sheer amount of suspiciousness that this place radiated. If you had somehow still been unsure, the large rusty sign above the door confirmed that you were exactly where you needed to be. Donning your full costume, you went in.

The building looked abandoned long before Parasis must have taken up residence here, overgrown plant life creeping up and around the outer walls. At least the front door still worked.

Pulling open the heavy door, you crept inside to find a small entranceway, an old dusty security desk off to one side. The building was silent from what you could tell, and so you continued onward, into the hall and down some stairs that led towards a dark grey door with a sign whose letters had worn away with age.

You suppressed a shudder as you approached the door, a sudden cold chilling your exposed skin. This was clearly the place, you confirmed to yourself as you put a hand to the cold doorknob, summoning a spear of light to your other hand. Should you open the door slow or fast? Not wanting to take too long to think on it, you settled for continuing your previous stealthy approach as it had been working for you so far.

The door opened with a regrettably loud creak, but you were in. Slipping inside the room, you found yourself in what looked oddly like the jungle area of a zoo. Vines wound up the walls, across the floors an around a smattering of broad-leafed plants. There were several machines in the room, but they didn’t look like they had been used in a while, if the plant life dipping in and around them was any indication. What would a shipping company, or a drug operation for that matter even want with an abandoned factory so destroyed by plant life that the machines were no longer usable? Cheap rent?

You were forced to shift your focus away from the plants as you spotted a figure on the other side of the room who seemed to be engaged with her cellphone.

You could only see her from the back, but it was clearly a woman, clad in a black suit with sickly green lighting-shaped bolts going down her arms and sides. She had long dark hair, pulled back into a thick braid that hung down her back, as well as green thigh-high boots on her legs, the same shade as the accents on her costume. Nobody had described her to you beyond mentioning that she wore a mask, but this had to be Parasis.

Moving closer, you considered your options. There was another door on the side of the room, but you were pretty confident that you could stop her before she could escape to it. There were quite a few machines in the room, but none were large enough to effectively hide yourself behind unless you laid on the floor. It seemed like the stealthy approach had run its course, so you walked forward, stopping twenty feet behind Parasis, the spear in your hand glowing brightly.

“Parasis!” you shouted, and the figure whipped around in surprise.

The word mask did not really do it justice. It looked like the visor of a motorcycle helmet, except it covered her entire face. The section from her nose to hairline was the same green as her boots, and was opaque, while the lower half of the mask was translucent and tinted black, allowing you a rough look at her lips and lower face.

Despite being unnerved by the creepy mask, you took another step forward. “I know you’re the one responsible for the cherry outbreak. I’m asking you nicely to stop, if you’re not going to turn yourself in.”

Parasis laughed. “Cute. That line ever work?”

You frowned at the modulated voice coming from the mask. For her information, it had worked several times on purse snatchers back in your hometown, but it wasn’t like you were expecting her to surrender to arrest just like that. You had maintained, perhaps foolishly, a policy of giving criminals one chance before arresting them yourself. You maybe needed to stop watching so many Disney movies, you thought to yourself. The hard approach it was then.

“You know those things kill people, right?” you asked, moving closer. “People who have families and people who love them.”

She scoffed. “That’s what they’re designed to do.”

“Why?” you persisted. “If you wanted to run a drug empire–”

“Please,” she dismissed. “Don’t bore me with the economics lesson. I’m not in this for the money, although I am finding it to be a perk. I’m doing this for good old-fashioned revenge.”

“Revenge?” you echoed. “On who?”

She didn’t answer, standing still as she stared you down.

With a frustrated huff, you expanded your spear, taking the light from overhead and combining them to create a cage of light around Parasis, who to your surprise seemed unfazed.

“So your little glow stick wasn’t just for show,” she remarked. “Almost makes my efforts worth it.”

“Your–?”

“You think I didn’t know you were after me?” she asked mockingly. “You can’t shake down every drug dealer in town without word getting back to me, you know. You don’t really think the leader of the biggest gang in the city just gives up my information out for free, do you?”

Your eyes widened. She had set you up?

“From where I’m standing, only one of us has been caged,” you countered, trying not to let her see your shaking confidence.

“Oh really?” Parasis teased, a cruel undertone in her voice that made you feel tense. “From here, all I see is a naïve little hero girl that’s about to learn just how out of her depths she really is.”

“What?” you said, before your train of thought was scrambled as you were grabbed from behind and lifted into the air.

Whipping your head around, you found that you had been picked up by one of the thick vines that had previously been wrapped around a nearby conveyor belt. Looking down at Parasis, you found her in the exact same position, still trapped in the prison of light. She didn’t seem to be the one making these plants move, but then who, or what was?

Snatching the light from a wrap light above you, you sent a sickle of sharp light towards yourself, which easily sliced through the vine that held you, sending you falling back down to the floor. The injured plant withdrew quickly, convulsing as it went as if crying silently in pain.

Turning to face the mess of plants, you followed their trail to the side wall where they all seemed to have originated from. You hadn’t noticed any movement there before, but now the wall seemed to be writhing, before the vines parted and a woman stepped out at the same time that you heard a loud click as the lights went out.

The room was pitch black now, your least favorite condition for a fight. The only lights in the room were the cage behind you and the crescent of light above your head that you quickly called back to yourself. Taking a quick look back, you saw Parasis still caged, so you instead turned your attention towards the woman that was still out there in the darkness.

“You hurt my plants,” a woman’s voice purred from the dark.

You turned the sickle into a ball of light, expanding it as much as you could before sending it out in the direction of the voice.

The light showed you the same machines you had seen before, at least until it reached the middle of the room, abruptly stopping it in place when it nearly collided with the mystery woman, who you realized with horror that you recognized.

How could you have been so stupid? You realized now that the plants in the room were clearly not naturally-occurring, but you had never imagined that the source of the plants would be her.

Poison Ivy. You had heard about her, but were under the impression that she operated out of Gotham City. Not that Bludhaven was that far from Gotham, but still, you could never have imagined that not only would this investigation be your first of this scale, but also involve your first clash with such a well-known criminal.

Poison Ivy stood still, unbothered by the ball of light that illuminated her green-tinted skin and leafy bodysuit, her fiery red hair so distinctive in contrast that you couldn’t possibly mistake her for anyone else. But what did Poison Ivy want with a drug operation?

You took a step forward, and the plants around her responded in kind, slithering past her and towards you. You called back your ball of light in response, turning it into a spear as you prepared yourself for a fight.

“Go,” Ivy commanded from the dark, and the plants rushed to obey her command, all surging rapidly towards you.

You were able to slice through the first few vines that came at you, but your lack of experience in a real fight was quickly catching up to you. Each vine you sliced drained more and more of your energy as you desperately tried to keep on top of the onslaught of plants coming at you.

You were panting heavily as you cut an incoming vine in half, hunching over for a moment to try and catch your breath, giving Ivy the opportunity to snatch the upper hand. Before you could react, a thick vine darted out from behind you, wrapping tightly around your neck and cutting off your already-shallow breathing.

You let go of your spear to claw desperately at your neck, trying to pry the vine off with little success. It only seemed to get tighter and tighter with each passing second as your vision began to get more and more black. Finally, as you were on the verge of passing out, the vine let go and you fell forward onto the floor, gasping for breath.

You heard footsteps behind you, realizing that you were now in total darkness. In your struggle with the vine, your concentration had been broken, dissolving both your spear and the cage that had held Parasis.

You reached down to click on one of your flashlights, but were stopped by what you assumed to be a vine snatching you by the ankle, quickly ensnaring you and suspending you upside down from the ceiling. As you struggled, a second vine bound your hands tightly behind your back, leaving you in pure darkness with very little ability to move, and no light. Breathing heavily from the effort, you tried to figure out where the two women were beneath you, but the darkness was absolute.

“Nature triumphs all,” Ivy sneered. “You were foolish to think you could take me on and win.”

“Took you long enough,” Parasis’ modulated voice replied, the sound echoing across the room. “Now are we ready to complete the process?”

“I am,” Ivy replied. “We can begin synthesizing.”

“Excellent,” Parasis replied, before turning her attention back to you. “You picked a bad day to come see me, Lightspear. You wanted cherry so bad? Now you’ll be test subject number one for the newest strain.”

You shuddered, shocked silent as their footsteps moved away from you and towards the side door. You were granted a sliver of light as the door was opened and closed, but it was too fast for you to grab before you were plunged back into darkness.

You tried to struggle against your binds, but Ivy had been true to her promise; you would not be able to escape them, not without using your powers. Why had you been so confident this was going to go well? Now that you were staring imminent and likely painful death in the face, all you could think about was how dumb you were to think you had a chance here, and now you would pay for your hubris with your life, alone and far from help.

You couldn’t hear anything from the room where Ivy and Parasis were, though they had made it abundantly clear what they intended to do with their time in there, but… a new strain of cherry? Wasn’t the original one deadly enough? Or was death within twenty-four hours too long for Parasis? You supposed you would likely find out soon.

Your moping was interrupted by a short buzz from your zippered jacket pocket. You rolled your eyes; it was probably just a notification from a mobile game, not like that would help you right now. Although the reminder of your cellphone did bring up a sudden idea as you recalled that you had a virtual assistant software on your phone right now. It had auto-activated from your last phone update, and you had kept meaning to shut it off, but had forgotten. If you could turn it on, you could call the police and–

With a bitter sting in your chest, you dismissed the idea. If the police showed up here, you would probably be arrested as well… arrested and unmasked. There was no way the Bludhaven P.D. would pass up a chance to make you an example for their crusade against masked vigilantism. But was being unmasked really a worse option than being force-fed a death pill?

You were being stupid; of course living was the better option. Maybe you could even try and escape the police once you had access to light again, since they would assumedly turn the lights on when they arrived.

You called out to activate your phone’s digital assistant, about to ask it to call the police when another thought occurred to you… there was one number in your phone that could both save you from death and keep you from being unmasked for the masses.

A rush of shame washed over you at the realization that your best chance for rescue was the masked vigilante that you had somewhat rudely told off last week, the same one you had insisted to that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself… this was going to be so humiliating.

As you opened your mouth, the thought occurred to you; what if he didn’t answer? Or refused to come, laughed at you and hung up? It’s not like you deserved any better after treating him like a fly buzzing around your face. But as frustrating as it was, he was your best shot at seeing tomorrow alive, so you forced yourself to just get on with it.

“Call Nightwing,” you instructed your phone, unsure if you were feeling woozy from shame or the blood rushing to your head from hanging upside down.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up, the answering male voice muffled slightly by the fabric of your jacket.

“Hello?” The voice sounded slightly strained, but it was definitely Nightwing’s voice.

You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to have to do this, but desperation forced your tongue to move.

“Nightwing, it’s Lightspear,” you said, wincing at how awful your voice sounded. “I need your help.”

“Where are you?” he asked, voice seemingly going into hero mode, shifting to sounding deadly serious.

“The Gulvern Shipping Warehouse in South Bludhaven. I came after Parasis, but Poison Ivy was here too. They said they’ve made a new strain of cherry and they’re going to test it on me,” you babbled, knowing he likely wouldn’t understand half of what you were saying but unable to stop the words from coming out. Why were you even doing this? It was obvious he would just brush you off like you had done to him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking for your help. I’ll just handle it myself somehow–”

“I can be there in fifteen minutes,” Nightwing interrupted. “Ten if I break a few speed limits.”

“Wait, really?” you asked, shocked. “You don’t–”

“Stop,” he said sternly, your mouth obediently shutting. “I’m on my way. Stay calm until I get there.”

The call cut off and then you were alone again in the darkness. If you got out of this, then you would owe Nightwing a huge apology. Now you just had to hope that he would get here before the two women were done synthesizing the new strain of cherry.

Nightwing’s soon-to-be arrival renewed your spirits, though you were still dreading having to face him. You struggled with your bindings in earnest, but found them still too tough to break free from. To add onto your stress, you could begin to hear strange noises from the side room; shrill, mechanical whirrs followed by a fizzing noise. You silently wished for whatever machine they were using to have some mechanical issue, at least until Nightwing got here to save your sorry ass.

You had closed your eyes, trying to abate the increasing dizziness that you were feeling, when you heard a noise from across the room. Snapping your eyes open, your fear turned to relief when you saw it was the door across from you that had opened, a familiar dark silhouette standing in the doorway.

“Nightwing!” you whispered to yourself as he entered the room and you lost sight of him to the darkness. Part of you had doubted that he would really come, but here he was.

“Lightspear?” he called from somewhere ahead of you.

“I’m here!” you called back in a hushed tone, not wanting to alert the two women in the side room that help had arrived. “They tied me up. Can you turn on the lights?”

You didn’t hear a response, or any footsteps, but a few moments later there was an electric buzz as the lights flickered on, illuminating Nightwing by the power switch by the door. He approached you, and you figured you should fill him in before the women noticed something was up.

“I’ve been investigating a drug called cherry and traced it here to a woman called Parasis. She set me up so she could catch me and use her new strain of cherry on me. Her and Ivy are in the next room and–”

You trailed of as you realized that Nightwing was just standing there, more silent than you had ever seen him. Was he even listening to what you were saying?

“Um, Nightwing?” you spoke up, unsure of what was wrong with him.

He snapped out of it at your call of his name, and you weren’t sure if it was the blood draining to your head or if you were really seeing a hint of red to his cheeks.

“Your, uh, costume…”

You couldn’t tell where exactly he was looking thanks to his mask, but you looked up at your costume, only to realize with horror just what he had been so distracted by. You hadn’t noticed the draft on your thighs, too consumed by your likely-imminent death, but you realized now that you probably should have been more selective when choosing a replacement article of clothing for your lower half.

The white miniskirt had looked good in the mirror before you had left, but was looking considerably less good now that it had flipped up, exposing the embarrassingly lacy white thong you usually wore under your costume pants to avoid panty lines. You thought there couldn’t possibly be any more blood rushing to your face, but the sudden dose of embarrassment was burning your cheeks up and was really not helping with your current case of light-headedness.

Suddenly filled with a desperate need to have this mortifying moment come to an end, you winked out a nearby light, sending a sharp blade of light slicing through the thick vine holding you upside down, cutting right through the plant. Unfortunately in your desperation, you had not fully thought your plan through. You were no longer suspended upside down, but were now falling towards the floor, your hands and ankles still tightly bound.

Before you could even scream, you were swiftly caught by Nightwing.

“Careful,” he scolded gently, and you were almost too overwhelmed by being upright again to be embarrassed by your current predicament.

Shifting you to one arm, he reached his other hand down, pulling a bat-shaped piece of metal from his belt. You were wary as he brought one sharp metal edge towards you, unable to fully relax until he had used it cut through the vines that were binding your ankles. Setting you down on your feet, he was about to cut the vines binding your hands behind your back, but was interrupted by the side door slamming open.

“Again you have harmed my precious plants,” Ivy sneered as she stormed into the room, Parasis right behind her. “I think you’ll find I’m even less forgiving the second time.”

“Nightwing… you’ve made a mistake coming here,” Parasis taunted as she stepped forward, an odd-looking glove on one hand that was definitely not there before.

“I don’t know about that,” he retorted. “I’d say that running a drug operation is more of a mistake than simple trespassing.”

Parasis scoffed. “So nice of another hero to come all the way here just to die.”

With that, the two women went into action, enraged plants shooting towards you and Nightwing. You retreated clumsily backwards, hands still bound behind your back, as you tried to shake off the numbness in your lower body.

While you stumbled around, Nightwing went on the offensive, grabbing one of the small rods that were slotted on his back before flipping through the air and easily closing the distance between himself and Ivy. You were frozen with amazement as you watched him smoothly dodge the plants that swung at him, pulling off moves you couldn’t even recall seeing in high-level gymnastics. He had scaled that wall before, but you hadn’t realized that wasn’t even close to the true level of acrobatic ability he possessed.

You really wanted to be of some help, but it was hard to do too much with your head feeling fuzzy and your hands bound behind you. You still had the sickle of light you had used to free yourself, so you decided to deal with your arms later and sent the sickle through plants that tried to attack Nightwing, who was still fighting to get closer to Ivy. You would prefer to have your hands free, but without vision behind your back, you were risking injury if you tried to cut it blind, and helping Nightwing was more important for now.

Nightwing and Ivy were now battling it out in the center of the room, his handheld sticks now alight with electricity. You helped him out the best you could, but in your inexperience, you had forgotten about one important thing, one that was about to make itself known to you.

You cried out as your hair was tugged from behind, falling back onto your bound hands, head stinging from hitting it against the hard floor. You looked up to see Parasis standing over you, a smirk just visible through the dark filter of the lower half of her mask.

“Forgot about our little deal?” she taunted.

You squirmed to sit up on your knees, trying to put as much distance between you and her as possible. “I don’t make deals with psychos!”

“…Psycho?” she echoed, stepping closer to you as you continued to retreat as fast as you could while still being on your knees. “I’m a visionary. I am removing the filth from this world. Some people don’t deserve the life they were given.”

“Why are you so worried about what drug addicts are doing?” you asked, trying to stall for some time as you were quickly running out of room to move backwards.

Parasis let out a cruel laugh, raising her hand, a suspicious red glow on her new glove unnerving you. “They’re inefficient. I’m just helping them kill themselves faster to save everyone the time.”

“They have families–”

“Who are better off!” she roared angrily. “Just like this city will be when I test my new mix on you.”

“You don’t have to…” you trailed off, staring at the glinting metal of her glove. Without the use of your hands, it would be difficult to get yourself standing or effectively wield a light weapon, and that wasn’t including the fact that you were being cornered by an able-bodied villain who had absolutely no issue with putting you down right here. You were so, so fucked.

Parasis’ glove was pointed straight at you now, and it felt like you were staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. You didn’t want to just accept your death, but what could you do? Anything you could attempt right now would be too slow to save your life.

“Bye hero girl,” Parasis sneered, jerking her pointer finger and activating her glove’s mechanism.

“Lightspear!”

You had been too shocked to close your eyes or turn your head, so you were able to see the black blur as it dashed in front of you, taking the brunt of the red liquid that shot out from Parasis’ glove.

“What a good boy, taking a bullet meant for someone else,” Parasis sneered. “Too bad you’ll have to die now.”

“Nightwing!” you shouted as he staggered for a moment before falling to the ground.

“Looks like I’m all out of cherry,” Parasis smirked. “I’ll have more for the next time we meet, Lightspear. Too bad about your little savior.”

Parasis’ heels clacked as she walked away, and you watched Poison Ivy join her in fleeing the room. The sound of the door slamming behind them snapped you out of your trance as you quickly shuffled to the prone vigilante before you.

Pulling at the vines that bound you, you were surprised when they easily broke apart, freeing your arms at last. Looking around, you found that it was a similar case with the rest of the plants in the room; it was as if Ivy herself had sustained their life, leaving them brittle and dead with her exit. But right now, you had much bigger worries than Ivy’s strange influence over plants.

“Nightwing!” you cried out, flipping him over so his head rested in your lap. “Nightwing, are you okay?”

His only response was a weak groan, which was not incredibly reassuring. The self-sacrificing idiot had jumped in front of you and gotten a full dose of the new-and-improved cherry right to the face. This iteration seemed to skip the initial high of the pill form, going straight into the end stages, if his current condition was anything to go by.

You had to do something. The only reason you were not in his position right now was because he had come and saved you, twice now. If anything, he should’ve stayed out of it and let you suffer the consequences of your poor decision-making.

You didn’t know what to do. There had been no cure for cherry discovered yet, and certainly none for a new, faster-acting version of the deadly drug. There was little chance Parasis had left an antidote here, especially considering they had just synthesized the liquid form of the drug only twenty minutes or so ago. Your best chance would be to get him out of here and try and find someone to help before he succumbed to the drug.

Thinking on your feet, you created a large board of light, maneuvering Nightwing onto it before lifting in into the air like a makeshift stretcher. You were thankful for your powers, or else you would have no way of carrying the densely-muscled hero out of here.

You rushed to the door, hauling the unconscious Nightwing into the hallway and out the front door of the warehouse. Exiting out into the cold night air, you found that the red car that had been parked out here was now gone, in its place a high-tech-looking black motorcycle with bright blue accents running down its sides. Didn’t really take a genius to figure out who the bike belonged to, but he wasn’t in any shape to drive a motorcycle, and you had no idea how to operate one yourself.

You approached the bike anyways, the advanced-looking control screen on the bike giving you a stupid but desperate idea. You had heard of Batman having all manner of advanced technologies, and if Nightwing was as associated with him as the news claimed him to be, then maybe this bike had some way to contact Batman. It was a daunting task, calling Batman to let him know that one of his allies was dying because of you, but you had to do whatever you could to save Nightwing’s life right now.

Keeping Nightwing suspended on the plank of light beside you, you prodded at the bike’s touch screen, watching as a symbol not unlike the one on Nightwing’s chest appeared on the screen. You waited a moment more, but nothing else appeared, so you decided to try pressing on the symbol and started talking.

“Hi, um, if this connects to Batman, I need his help. I’m with Nightwing, and he’s been poisoned with a drug called cherry. He’s doing really bad right now and I don’t know how long he has. If you could just–”

“May I ask who is speaking?” a distinctly-not-Batman-sounding male voice replied from the screen.

You were momentarily stunned, having a hard time believing your stupid plan had connected you with anyone.

“Lightspear,” you answered. “Nightwing came to help me and took a dose of cherry meant for me. He’s unconscious, and I don’t know what to do.”

“You are the young lady with the light powers?” the voice clarified. At your assent, he continued. “Very well. Can you maneuver Master Nightwing onto the motorcycle?”

“But I don’t know how to drive it!” you protested.

“That will not be a problem, miss. If you can get both of you onto the motorcycle, then I can remotely pilot it from here.”

“You… okay,” you agreed reluctantly.

Bringing Nightwing to the bike, you got on first before using the light board to shuffle his body onto the bike just behind you. For extra security, you shaped the board into a railing of sorts, placing the makeshift light rails to Nightwing’s sides and back to keep him from falling off the bike.

“Okay, we’re on,” you told the man in the control panel.

“Alright,” he replied. “I implore you to hold on tightly. Batman will be ready for your arrival.”

“Thank you,” you said as the voice cut out and the bike started up before tearing out of the warehouse district and heading onto the highway.

You would have been more terrified, considering this was your first time ever being on any motorcycle, let alone one this fast, but your worry for Nightwing kept your motorcycle anxiety at bay. He was slumped against you, his body temperature dangerously high. As the bike continued to speed along the road, you tried to recall all you could about the stages of symptoms cherry victims underwent, wanting to be prepared when you arrived wherever you were going.

From what you could remember from police interviews with victims they had gotten to before they died, it started with a few-hour-long high that then turned into a high fever and persistent dehydration and nausea. The end stages were the worst, the victim’s body wracked with convulsions, the whites of their eyes turning a cherry red. The red eyes were a sure sign that the person was in the very last stage, the effect persisting even after death. You recalled that Kamila’s brother’s funeral had been open casket, at the family’s insistence, but a strip of cloth had been placed over Emile’s eyes as the mortician had been unable to close them after his death.

Though Nightwing had been doused with a liquid form of cherry, so there was no telling how his symptoms would spiral from here. You already knew he had skipped the high stage, if his enhanced body temperature and unconsciousness was anything to go by, but how much time did that leave him with? You were trying not to think of the worst, but this was a drug with a zero percent survival rate so far, which didn’t leave a lot of room for much hope. You would have to believe that Batman would have some way to save Nightwing.

You left Bludhaven, passing by the Welcome to Gotham sign and speeding through the outskirts of Gotham City using various back roads. You mentally thanked whoever was driving this thing; the last thing you wanted right now was to drive by violence-hungry criminals that would love nothing more than to take a piece out of two masked heroes, especially with one already down for the count.

The bike veered away from the city, heading towards a more grassy area of Gotham, which confused you. The confusion turned into alarm as you realized you were driving full speed at the side of a rocky hill. Had the person driving lost control of the bike?

Bracing yourself for a crash, you were surprised when instead a section of the rock opened a formerly-invisible door, allowing you safe passage into the rock. You rocketed down an incline before coming to a stop on a large circular platform beside a series off what must have been different iterations of the Batmobile.

Footsteps on the metal floor made you look up, your body freezing up when you saw Batman approaching you, a tall older man in a suit at his side.

“How is he?” Batman asked, and you were trying to make your mouth move, but then the man next to him spoke up and you realized that the question hadn’t been directed at you.

“Not well, sir. Scan of his vitals shows extremely elevated temperature, and his pulse is highly irregular. We must get him into the lab immediately.”

Batman approached the motorcycle, the older man pulling a stretcher with him as they both came to a stop before you. You dissolved the light supports, Nightwing’s body slumping against you with all his weight for only a moment before Batman picked him up and placed him on the stretcher.

Immediately, they began to roll him towards a section of the underground base, and you watched as they began to hook him up to different machines for only a moment before turning away in shame. Should you just go? You didn’t feel right, being here in this secret cave just because you had gotten an actual hero injured to the brink of death. You had never felt so small, dismounting from the bike, intent on leaving the Batcave and finding some way home so you could feel sorry for yourself in peace.

You had not gotten farther than a few steps when a voice called out to you.

“Going somewhere, Miss Lightspear?”

You turned, seeing the older man, whose voice you recognized as the one operating the bike, standing a few feet away. Guilt and shame rose up from inside you as you forced yourself to answer him.

“I thought I would get out of your way. I’ve already caused enough trouble tonight,” you replied, looking down at your feet.

“If I may say, miss, I think you’re just where you need to be,” he said. “We are in need of someone with information on this drug if we are to save Master Nightwing.”

“I…” You didn’t want to outright refuse him, but you had a hard time believing you would be of any use to someone like Batman.

“If I may add,” the man spoke gently. “I am sure Master Nightwing would appreciate seeing you at his bedside when he wakes up.”

You still felt like you didn’t deserve his kindness, or to be here at all, but you allowed the man to lead you over to the lab where Batman was standing over the prone Nightwing, who had been stripped of the top half of his costume and was hooked up to an I.V. He looked so pale that you were surprised he was still alive, a thought which chilled you to the core.

“What information can you give us on the drug?” Batman asked gruffly, the severity in his voice making you feel like a mouse caught in a trap.

“We are analyzing a sample of his blood,” the older man added. “But it would help us isolate what we are to be treating if we had some more information to work with.”

You nodded slowly. “Parasis said that this was a faster-acting version of cherry. From what I can tell, he’s already in what would be considered the late stages for the pill form of the drug. The only other way to check how bad he is would be to look at his eyes.”

“His eyes?” Batman replied.

“When you’re in the final stage before death, the whites of your eyes turn red,” you explained.

Batman nodded, approaching Nightwing’s head. “Alfred?”

“I should have the police data on the drug in one moment, sir,” Alfred answered, typing away at a nearby computer. “It seems to be a combination of colchicine and erythromycin, with traces of methylenedioxymethamphetamine.”

“And the system?” Batman pressed.

“Currently synthesizing a counter-drug,” Alfred answered. “Administering Master Nightwing with naloxone right now to try and lessen the severity of the reaction.”

Batman reached down to gently remove Nightwing’s mask, and you looked away, feeling like you were encroaching on something private.

“His eyes have started to turn red,” Batman said, and you looked up with fear, setting your eyes on the unmasked Nightwing before you could stop yourself.

He was holding one of Nightwing’s eyelids open, and you could easily see the red creeping out from the corners of his eye. Any other time, you would have appreciated the pretty blue of his eye, but now all the sight did was fill you with dread.

Looking up from Nightwing’s eyes, you realized that Batman was staring at you, his expression unreadable. Recoiling in horror, you realized the mistake you had just made.

“I didn’t mean to look!” you exclaimed, bowing your head in fear. “I can take mine off, if that makes it fair! I swear I didn’t mean to–”

You pulled your own mask off, gripping it tightly in one hand while staring down at your lap, afraid to meet Batman’s eyes again.

“There is no cause for concern, miss,” Alfred spoke up. “You have brought Master Nightwing to us in time for treatment. Neither of us is worried about you seeing his face, but I will leave his identity for him to disclose when he recovers.”

“This isn’t the first or fifth time one of us has been poisoned,” Batman added as you finally gathered the courage to look him in the eyes. “He’ll pull through if we can just isolate the component that Poison Ivy added to this new strain.”

A moment after he spoke, there was a metallic ding from the computer, which Alfred hurried to check on.

“It seems the final component to this new version is a mutated form of deadly nightshade,” Alfred informed.

Batman nodded. “Do we still have that physostigmine compound from the last encounter with Poison Ivy?”

“You know I like to be overly prepared,” Alfred replied. “It’s in cabinet B, row eight.”

Batman got up to fetch the solution, and you turned your attention back to Nightwing. You had been so amazed earlier by his abilities, but all you could think about now as you sat down next to him was just how frail he looked. His chest and neck were covered in red, irritated patches of skin, his breathing shallow. If he had been just a bit slower, or less self-sacrificing, it could easily have been you on that table looking like you had one foot already in the grave.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, miss,” Alfred spoke up as he approached your side. “If he were awake, he would tell you the same, even if he is often not great at taking his own advice.”

“But I did this to him,” you protested, feeling low.

“Poison Ivy and Parasis did this to him,” Batman cut in as he returned with a syringe of clear liquid. “Nightwing understood the risks when he came to help you.”

You watched as Batman injected the syringe into Nightwing’s shoulder before placing it onto Alfred’s waiting tray.

“That should cover all of the matters of great concern,” Alfred said. “I will keep him on fluids to help flush this cherry out of his system, but I’m afraid all we can do now is wait.”

You weren’t sure what to do now. It was a relief that Nightwing had gotten treatment, but that didn’t mean he was guaranteed to survive the night.

“Sir, what do you say we leave the young lady in charge of overseeing Master Nightwing for now?” Alfred suggested to Batman.

“Me? But…”

“You’ll be fine,” Batman said with surprising kindness. “He’s hooked up to monitors that will alert us if his vitals change, so we’ll be here if there’s a problem.”

“Okay,” you reluctantly agreed. You owed it to Nightwing to be by his side right now, even if part of you still just wanted to run away.

“If you need anything, just press this,” Alfred told you, handing you a grey square of plastic with a red button in the center.

You took the button with a nod, watching the two men walk away before returning your attention to the unconscious hero in front of you. You waited until you were alone with him before speaking up.

“I’m so sorry, Nightwing,” you sighed. “I should have accepted your help. I shouldn’t have run in there alone like an idiot. This whole thing is way bigger than I could handle on my own… I get that now. I just wish I could apologize to you when you can hear me.”

Nightwing said nothing, because of course he didn’t. You looked from his face to the monitors around him, beeping softly at a steady rhythm. He didn’t particularly look any better, but he also wasn’t continuing to get worse, at least not that you could tell. You knew there was one way to check for sure if he was getting worse, but you were terrified of lifting his eyelids to see pure red, so you just sat by his side, desperately hoping Batman’s treatment was working.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed until Alfred came by with a mug of hot chocolate, snapping you out of your thoughts as you stared intently at the monitors.

“It’s four in the morning, miss,” he informed you, handing you the warm mug. “If you would like to get some rest, a room has been prepared for you.”

“I don’t know…” you replied, even as your sore and tired body screamed at you to take him up on his offer.

“Master Nightwing has been given the most effective treatment we have. The best thing you can do for him right now would be to get some rest yourself,” he advised.

Part of you wanted to consider it, but things weren’t that simple. “I can’t. I’m scheduled to work later today. I just started this job, I can’t just…”

“May I ask where you work? And for that matter, would you mind if I were to ask for your name?” Alfred asked.

You weren’t sure why it mattered, but you told him your name. “I work at Bludhaven Public Library.”

“Ah, at the library?” he responded with interest. “We have quite the rare collection amassed here. Perhaps you can have a look at it after you have had a rest.”

“I…”

“If I can promise that things with your job will be taken care of, will you agree to my request?” he asked insistently. “I will alert you if anything changes with Master Nightwing’s condition.”

“Is Batman okay with that?” you asked quietly, feeling your will to refuse slipping away from you, your tiredness demanding you give in and close your eyes.

“Batman was the one who insisted I come to offer you a bed,” Alfred responded. “I’ll keep watch over him, so please get some rest.”

With a small defeated sigh, you stood up, clutching the mug of yet undrunk hot chocolate in your hands. “Thank you Alfred. I’m sorry to be such a burden on you.”

“Nonsense,” he dismissed, leading you up a winding metal staircase. “I haven’t been asked to remove any bullets or stitch up stab wounds. Tonight has been a rather lax night for me.”

His attempts to cheer you up were definitely helping, even if his words made you concerned for what he got up to on a daily basis. Nightwing’s condition would be the same whether you were there or not, and you would be of no use to him if you were passed out from exhaustion at his bedside.

You emerged from the staircase through a trick bookcase, coming out into what looked like the study room of someone wealthy. Just who was Batman?

Alfred led you out of the study, across the hall and then down a small staircase. You were grateful your feet still worked as your brain felt overwhelmed by the sheer volume of opulence around you. You followed Alfred into what looked like a waiting room at a dentist’s officer or something before Alfred opened one of two side-by-side doors for you, revealing a bedroom at last.

The room had a large freshly-made bed opposite an expensive-looking entertainment centre and widescreen T.V. You had been expecting a small bed in a room the size of a closet, not a room that looked like it was straight out of an ad for a five star hotel. Your whole apartment was maybe only slightly bigger than this room, and you had thought it was decently sized, but apparently it was nothing compared to a guest room in Batman’s house.

Alfred stood by the door as you entered the room, in awe. “If you require anything, please buzz the intercom and I’ll be right up.”

“Thanks Alfred,” you said, still struggling to fully comprehend how your night had ended up like this.

“My pleasure. Goodnight, miss.”

The door closed as Alfred took his leave and you were left alone in the giant room. You didn’t have the mental power available right now to survey the rest of the room, just enough to walk your way over to the bed, take off your shoes and crawl under the covers.

For a moment, your brain just wanted to focus on all the worries you had accumulated through the night. Would Nightwing be okay? What did Alfred mean about dealing with your work? What was Parasis planning to do with her new enhanced drug? You had so many questions, but no answers. Eventually your mind wore itself down and you drifted off at last, worries shelved away for when you were awake again.

 You woke up slowly, body not fully willing to return to the land of the living. Realizing there was sun coming through the gap in the curtains, you forced yourself up, pulling your phone out of your jacket pocket to see that it was eleven in the morning. Way past when you needed to be at work for, and a whole seven hours since you had been at Nightwing’s bedside.

Springing out of bed, you were immediately struck by how gross you felt. Afraid to even lift your underarm to check, you zeroed in on a door at the other end of the wall from where the door to the hall was. Padding over to the previously-unnoticed door, you cautiously opened it to see the largest bathroom you had ever seen. Eyes focussing in on the fancy tiled shower, you stepped into the room, unable to resist the call of the shower.

You turned the handle, trying to focus on this moment and not all your current stresses. Alfred had promised that he would inform you if Nightwing’s condition changed, and considering you had woken up on your own, you felt it was fair to assume that Nightwing was at least still in the same state as he had been last night. You would worry about what that meant after your shower, but at least he was likely stable. You knew you had the best chance to shower right now anyways; if you rang the intercom only to get bad news, you doubted you would be in any mood to haul yourself into shower.

The bathroom was fully stocked with products, as well as the fluffiest towels you had ever used. Having no other option, you put your hero costume back on, minus mask, cringing in the long mirror at how awful it looked.

There were rips and holes all over your jacket and skirt, and what parts weren’t ripped were stained with dirt, blood and what was likely the small spray of liquid cherry that had made it past Nightwing to hit you. At least your hair and body were clean, but the rest of you looked like you had lost a fight with a cactus, which you supposed was not too far from the truth.

Exiting the bathroom, you forced your feet to take you to the intercom by the door, each step feeling like you were trudging through mud, your mind racing with possibilities. What if he hadn’t gotten any better over the night? What if he had gotten worse? And the hardest possibility for you to discount, what if he had died during the night and Alfred hadn’t been able to bring himself to keep his promise to wake you up and tell you the bad news?

You raised a hand, getting a finger all the way up to the button before freezing, afraid of what you would hear if you pressed it. You knew you had to do this, but you were terrified, pressing the button quickly before you could talk yourself out of it.

There was a short beep before Alfred answered. “Did you sleep well?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer his question, or wait even a moment to hear the news. “How is he?”

There was a short moment of silence. “I think this news would be better delivered in person. I will be there in just a moment.”

The intercom cut off, your chest freezing cold at his words. He hadn’t sounded upset, just neutral, so there wasn’t really much to gain from analyzing his tone, but the words were a whole other story. If he insisted on telling you in person, there was no way it would be anything good, but you wouldn’t know for sure until he got here.

The minutes you spent waiting for Alfred were spent largely alternating between sitting and standing, no position able to keep your panic from rising for long. You knew that only Alfred’s arrival would be able to even somewhat calm your frantic energy, but that knowledge didn’t keep you from pacing a hole in the floor until a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” you said, voice coming out scratchier than you had intended.

The door opened and Alfred entered the room, looking the same as he had last you saw him. You tried to study him, looking for any clues as to what he was about to tell you, but whether intentional or not, his defences were impenetrable, which caused you to assume the worst.

“If he’s dead, just tell me!” you blurted out, unable to take the pressure on your chest any longer.

“He’s not dead,” Alfred replied with a shake of his head and an exasperated smile. “I warned him this would be the likely outcome, but he still insisted we let you sleep.”

“…what?” you asked, feeling lost.

“Master Nightwing regained consciousness about an hour ago,” Alfred informed you. “The drug took effect quickly, and it seems it can be recovered from just as fast, provided the victim be treated with the right combination of medicines in time.”

“Wait, he’s not dead?” you gasped.

“To my great relief, yes,” Alfred replied wearily. “I can take you to see him right now if you would like to see for yourself.”

You readily agreed, following Alfred out through the sitting room and back into the hallway. The walk was a short one, taking you down the hall and around the corner into another sitting room. Did every bedroom in this place need its own waiting room?

There was only one other door in this room, and you raced over to it, not bothering to knock in your haste to make sure that Nightwing was okay.

“Nightwing?” you called out, opening the door only to freeze in shock opposite the equally-surprised inhabitant of the room.

Nightwing, minus mask as well as all other articles of clothing minus a towel around his waist, was standing in the middle of the bedroom, blue eyes wide as he stared back at you. It was silent for a moment until footsteps from behind you broke the quiet as Alfred entered with a succinct pardon me.

Alfred’s voice snapped you out of your gawking and you retreated, quickly hiding behind Alfred.

“I’m sorry!” you apologized definitely too loudly before dashing out of the room, Alfred following, closing the door behind you.

You collapsed into one of the chairs in the sitting room, covering your face with your hands in your embarrassment. Well, Nightwing was alive alright…

“I apologize,” Alfred said kindly. “I’d have stopped you if I had known he was indisposed.”

“It’s fine,” you groaned miserably, reluctantly pulling your hands away from your face. “I’m just relieved that he’s okay.”

Alfred looked like he was about to say something, but someone else spoke up first.

“You saw Grayson naked? If I were you, I’d be poking my eyes out right about now.”

You looked to the doorway to see a boy in his early teens with short spiky black hair and a smug expression enter the room.

You stared at the boy with wide eyes before the sound of a door opening behind you put you on edge again.

“You know I nearly died last night, right?” came Nightwing’s weary voice from behind you.

The boy scoffed. “…and? I nearly died last week. Big deal.”

Nightwing sighed, and you twitched involuntarily as he entered your peripheral vision.

“Come Master Damian, it’s nearly time for your lunch,” Alfred interrupted the boy, who looked to be ready to launch another snarky remark.

“No it’s not, it’s only eleven!” Damian protested, only giving in with a frown when Alfred directed a sharp look his way. “Fine, but this isn’t over. I wanna test my skills against her light powers, so don’t hog her all to yourself, Grayson.”

“She’s too old for you!” Nightwing called out in reply to the retreating boy, his footsteps away turning into loud stomps in response.

When the two’s footsteps finally faded, Nightwing turned to you, although you were still having a hard time looking at him.

“Sorry about him,” Nightwing said. “Tact has never been one of his strong points.”

“It’s fine,” you replied, looking at him at last to thankfully see him dressed now in a teal t-shirt and dark jeans. “I’ll take dealing with a mouthy kid over watching you dying in front of me any day. I’m so sorry, Nightwing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “…Nightwing?”

“Uh…” You were confused; had he hit his head when he had passed out last night?

“Alfred didn’t tell you my name?” he clarified.

Oh. That’s what he meant.

You bit your lip. “He said it wasn’t his secret to share.”

Nightwing laughed. “Alfie can be way too serious sometimes. You saved my life last night, so I don’t think you knowing my name is too much in return.”

“I put your life in danger in the first place,” you grumbled.

“Anyways,” he smoothly interjected. “My name is Dick Grayson.”

That made sense; Damian had referred to him as Grayson. You chose not to comment on the old-fashioned nature of his name, instead giving him yours in return.

You knew you probably still had a miserable look on your face as Dick took a seat in the chair beside yours, waiting until you looked at him to talk.

“You don’t need to feel bad,” he said gently. “I chose to jump in front of you. There’s nothing for you to feel guilty about.”

“But you could’ve died!” you protested. “Nobody else has survived this drug.”

“Trust me, I’ve been through worse,” he said, standing up. “But if you insist on apologizing, then I think I’m in the mood for burgers, your treat.”

You stared at him incredulously, but didn’t resist as he pulled you out of your chair and towards the door.

“What? I haven’t eaten in almost a day. You called me right as I was about to order a pizza for dinner.”

 “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” you asked warily as Nightwing led you up to his bike.

You were already feeling fairly out of your element, dressed in a borrowed sweater and shorts from Dick’s closet to replace your stained and ripped hero clothes. You had passed Alfred on the way out, Dick rebuffing his offer to drive the two of you, insisting on taking his bike. Alfred had informed you he would source you some clothing to replace your ruined outfit, which you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse, not wanting to spend all day dressed in ill-fitting mens clothing, especially ones made for someone way more muscular than you.

“It’ll be fine,” Dick dismissed. “I’ve driven this thing just fine with a bullet in my shoulder.”

That wasn’t really the reassurance you were looking for, but you climbed on the bike behind him. You were still somewhat scarred from the last time you had been on this bike, but it helped that you weren’t riding with someone who was half dead this time. Dick was warm, but not feverishly so, which was another relief. You could not stop being reminded lately just how different this place was to your small town.

Dick drove into the city, pulling over outside a building with a red neon sign denoting it as Caroline’s Diner.

You followed behind Dick as he entered, averting your eyes to the booths behind when the hostess sent a judgy stare your way, assumedly based on the odd sight of such a strangely-dressed girl out with a guy as good-looking as Dick. She was all smiles when she met eyes with him however, grabbing two menus from behind her podium and leading you towards a booth, swinging her hips as she went. She really didn’t have to try so hard; it wasn’t like Dick was yours for her to steal in the first place.

Dick had insisted that you try the milkshakes here, and so you waited until the hostess had gone with your order before bringing up something that had been on your mind.

“What do you think she plants to do with the new strain?” you asked, making sure to speak as covertly as possible, aware of the diners all around you.

“We can talk about that later,” he replied. “I didn’t want to come here to talk business.”

“Uh… then what?” you replied.

He laughed. “I want to know more about you. Haven’t you ever been on a date before?”

“A date?” you squeaked. You had never thought of yourself as a particularly dense person, but didn’t asking someone on a date usually involve using the word date?

“Do you have a job?” he asked, seemingly unwilling to let you drown in your own thoughts again.

You could answer that. You just had to ignore his date comment and pretend you were out with a normal friend, instead of a gorgeous superhero that you had nearly gotten killed last night.

“I work at Bludhaven Public Library,” you told him, and his eyes lit up.

“I’ve been meaning to check out the library, but I keep getting too busy,” he replied.

“Just don’t go in costume,” you warned teasingly. “My coworker Gertie hates Nightwing. Even made a kid in a Nightwing shirt turn it inside out just to be allowed into the library a few days ago.”

He winced. “Hopefully it’s not a sentiment shared by all the staff?”

You guessed he was referring to you and shook your head. “Maybe at first. I came here thinking I could easily handle things, at least until last night’s reality check. You have to admit you were annoying at first though!”

Dick grinned. “I think the word you were thinking of is charming, but I see your point. I figured I would introduce myself and try and figure out if you were on our side or not.”

“You thought I was a villain?” you whisper-shouted.

Dick raised his hands in surrender. “There are always new criminals popping up in Bludhaven. I wanted to make sure you weren’t a member of the League of Limousine Assassins that suddenly developed a conscience.”

“The what?” you retorted. “That can’t possibly be a real group.”

“As I said, we get all types in Bludhaven, but not a lot of heroes,” he explained. “It takes a masochist to move to Bludhaven nowadays.”

You had definitely gotten that impression, and you had only been in the city just over two weeks now. But it wasn’t like you had come to Bludhaven for a normal reason. As you were pondering what to say next, the hostess returned with your milkshakes. You were fairly certain her job didn’t involve serving customers, but it seemed she had made an exception for your table.

“Enjoy,” she purred seductively, giving a finger-wiggling wave to Dick as she strut away.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer difference between your milkshakes. Dick’s was pristine, topped with a more than generous amount of whipped cream and not one but two cherries. Meanwhile yours had not a drop of whip cream and was fairly messy, several lines of milkshake dripping down the glass that hadn’t been wiped.

Dick raised an eyebrow at you and you laughed again, gesturing between your milkshakes. “I’m pretty sure the hostess has the hots for you. She probably spat in mine.”

Dick huffed, rolling his eyes as he reached across the table to switch your milkshake with his.

Shushing your protests, he pulled the straw up to his lips, taking a sip from your comparatively-bland-looking milkshake. “It’s your first time here, you take mine.”

You reluctantly accepted the fancy milkshake, fairly certain you could feel the hostess’ glare all the way from her podium.

“So why Bludhaven?” Dick asked.

You plucked a cherry off of the pile of whipped cream, popping it in your mouth. “If I tell you, then you have to answer one of my questions.”

There was a challenge in Dick’s eyes as he answered. “Deal.”

“My friend’s brother was one of the first people to die from cherry, back in our hometown. I saw how wrecked she was after he died and figured that it was time to make the move to somewhere where I was doing more than rescuing cats from trees and catching shoplifters, and the trail to cheery led me to Bludhaven.”

“That’s happening more and more lately,” Dick replied with a wry smile. “So what’s your question?”

You took a sip from your milkshake before narrowing your eyes slightly at the man across from you. “How did you see through my trick that night?”

“With the double?” he asked, and you nodded, staring him down. Your pride had received quite the bruise that night. “I put a tracker on your phone.”

“On my–” You pulled your phone out of your shorts’ pocket, Dick’s hand reaching across the table to stop you from trying to pick your phone apart to search for the bug.

“Not a physical tracker,” he corrected. “I have a function in my mask that allows me to put a trace on your phone’s signal.”

You were almost impressed enough to not be mad. “All my mask does is itch if I wear it for too long.”

“I’ll show you when we get back,” he said. “Alfie said I should stay a few days so they can make sure the drug is out of my system, so I’ve got some time.”

His words gave you pause. “Wait, you don’t live there?”

“I’ve got my own place in Bludhaven,” he answered. “Attached to my cross train studio.”

He owned his own cross train studio? Just how laughably out of your league could this guy get?

The food arrived, the hostess bending over way more than was necessary to place Dick’s burger and fries down in front of him, a busboy bringing your own plate over. At this point you would be astounded if the hostess didn’t try to jump him in the parking lot in your way out.

“So?” Dick probed after you had taken a bite of your burger.

“It’s good,” you said. You had been so busy with everything lately that you felt like you hadn’t had a good meal in forever.

“This place has been here forever,” he said, looking fondly around at the fifties-style interior.

“I can tell,” you laughed, watching a little girl fiddling with the jukebox in the corner.

It was nice spending time with Dick. Between your regular job and your unconventional hobby, you never had much time left to hang out with friends anymore. Thinking on it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had texted Kamila, the realization making you feel guilty.

The hostess returned with the bill, which was set in the middle of the table. You reached out for it, but Dick was faster, pulling the bill to his side of the table and pulling out a credit card.

“You said it was my treat!” you complained as the hostess left to go swipe the card.

“I lied,” he shrugged, smiling at your annoyed expression. “And it’s not like you owe me anything anyways. Like I said, it was my choice to take the hit for you. We should probably head back before I’m late for Alfie’s next blood test. He’s making me get tested every twelve hours until it’s all out of my system.”

You giggled at the dejected-looking vigilante, not envious of his situation.

The hostess chose then to return with Dick’s card and the receipt, once again bending over excessively to place both objects in front of him.

“Call me after you drop your sister off,” she said with a pointed look in your direction before making her way back to her podium.

Well she certainly wasn’t pulling any punches, not if the phone number and deep red kiss mark on the receipt were anything to go by. You knew that you definitely didn’t look like his sister, but whatever floated her boat. Sure Dick was cute, but he likely had better options than you for the hostess to compete with.

Dick didn’t acknowledge the number on the receipt, and was polite enough to wait until you had returned to the mansion to throw it in the trash when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Master Dick, I was about to call,” Alfred greeted. “I have everything set up in the Batcave.”

Dick groaned, but obeyed, trudging up the stairs, assumedly towards the secret entrance to the Batcave.

Once Dick was gone, Alfred turned to address you. “I took the liberty of procuring you a selection of clothing that is waiting in your guest room. Please let me know if anything is not to your liking.”

A selection? You felt bad bursting his bubble, but it had to be done. If you somehow weren’t fired for no-showing today, then you definitely would be by Monday.

“Thanks, Alfred, but I should probably be going soon. I just started my job, and I can’t afford to miss any more days right now.”

“That won’t be a problem,” a deep voice said from the living room, and you turned to see a broad-shouldered handsome man with dark hair and a strong jaw enter the foyer.

You looked to Alfred, who smiled reassuringly, which helped calm your nerves at the stranger’s approach.

“Bruce Wayne,” he introduced himself, offering a hand. Taking his hand, you gave him your name in return. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like you to stay here while Dick is recovering.”

“I…” you hesitated. “I appreciate the offer, but my job…”

“I called Bludhaven Public Library and informed them that you were lending me your skills for a private project in return for a generous donation for the library from Wayne Enterprises.”

Wayne Enterprises? You had heard that name before… wasn’t it some tech giant company that owned stadiums all across America?

It took you an embarrassingly long moment to piece together the Wayne company with the man before you, but when you did, you just stared at Bruce in shock. It did explain the giant mansion… and the Batcave. You felt uncomfortable with the knowledge, but Bruce didn’t seem to share your worries.

“I’ll go attend to Master Dick,” Alfred announced, taking his leave and leaving you alone with the intimidating billionaire.

Bruce didn’t seem to be bothered by the awkward atmosphere. “I know how important Bludhaven is to Dick, but it’s dangerous.”

Why was he bringing up Bludhaven? You weren’t sure what to say, or how to escape this conversation, so you just settled for a short nod.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, and you got the impression that you were missing something.

“You lack combat experience, but your powers have potential,” he said, not insultingly, but simply pointing out a fact you now knew to be true. You had been embarrassingly useless in the encounter with Parasis and Ivy and you knew it. “I’d like to take the time now and do what I can to train you before you return to Bludhaven.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?” you asked meekly. “Me knowing you’re…”

“Do you have a reason why I should be worried?” he asked, and you furiously shook your head. “Then, yes, it’s alright. I’ve looked into your background and didn’t find any points of concern, other than your lack of combat skills.”

Batman had looked into you? It felt almost surreal, your brain doing its best to process the information. You doubted he would have seen to share his identity with you if you hadn’t brought Dick here last night, but it was incredibly flattering that Batman thought of you as someone trustworthy, your lackluster combat skills aside. And who were you to turn down an offer of training from Batman himself, as daunting of a challenge as it was.

“I would love to,” you said gratefully. “It was my fault Dick got hurt, and I don’t want to be a liability again.”

“Good to hear,” Bruce replied. “If you’re ready now, then I have something to show you.”

Following Bruce back upstairs into the study, you re-entered the Batcave through the secret staircase. But this time you were taken away from the main area to an open area that you assumed would be for training. There were various pieces of equipment on a nearby workbench, along with a pile of folded white fabric that instantly caught your eye.

After a gesture from Bruce, you approached the table, expecting to find your now-washed hero costume, but instead unravelled the fabric to find an entirely different outfit.

It had a similar shape and color to your original costume, but holding it in your hands, you could tell this one was of a much higher quality than the one you were used to. Running a hand down the front, you couldn’t place what material it was made from, but found yourself entranced by the upgrade.

“Try it on,” Bruce instructed. “We’ll get started when I return.”

You figured he was giving you privacy to change, but reconsidered when he returned in full Batman getup. You had been admiring the upgrades to your suit, which included some sort of thin metal on the inside of your new gloves.

“They store reserve solar light,” Bruce explained as he returned to see you staring down at your gloved hands. “They should keep you from running out of usable light again.”

You were about to thank him, but were interrupted by some hurried footsteps in your direction. You looked over to see Dick turn the corner, still fully tugging on his Nightwing suit as he made his way over to you.

“Has Alfred cleared you?” Bruce asked, unconcerned by Dick’s sudden appearance.

“I’m fine,” he replied, putting on his mask. “More importantly, I should be the one training her.”

“She needs to be prepared the next time Parasis acts,” Bruce said sternly. “Her inexperience could get both of you killed.”

“I know that,” Dick stressed, an odd tension flaring in the air between the men. “I want to try things my way first.”

Bruce stared at him for a moment, but backed down. “If you need anything, let Alfred know.”

You watched Bruce walk away, feeling stunned, but then Dick took his place in front of you. Your heart throbbed guiltily in your chest as you stared at Dick in his full Nightwing outfit, the sight reminding you of last night when he had been dying in front of your eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked cautiously. His skin was a much healthier shade now, but you didn’t want him to push himself and make things worse.

“You sound like Alfred,” he dismissed teasingly. “We don’t have time to wait. We don’t know what Parasis is planning to do next, so we need to use the time we have now.”

“So… what now?”

“We’ll start with basic self-defen–”

Dick darted out towards you, and you first assumed this was some sort of sneak attack training until he pulled you into his body, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back a few feet. You were confused and flustered, at least until you heard a clang of metal from behind you.

Turning around, you saw an angular knife in the floor, just about where you had been standing. You were on edge immediately; were you under attack? Had Parasis followed you here?

“You weren’t supposed to help her, you know,” an annoyed voice complained, a costumed boy who could only be Damian flipping down from a higher railing to land in front of you and pick up his discarded knife.

“You’re a trained assassin, Damian. You could have killed her!” Dick accused, his words sending chills down your spine. That bratty teenager from earlier was an assassin? In his costume, he just looked like any sidekick you had ever seen in the news.

“She was supposed to use her powers,” Damian grumbled, prickly from being scolded by Dick.

“She’s not like us,” Dick replied, not unkindly. “You can help, but maybe save the knife throwing until we’ve covered basic self defense.”

“Fine,” Damian relented, returning to sit on the railing, his judging stare fixed on you.

It was somewhat mortifying to have a teen assassin watching your pitiful self-defence lesson, but he didn’t seem to be going anywhere, so you had little choice in the matter.

Dick was a patient but tough teacher, your muscles screaming at you after your fifteenth attempt at breaking out of a hold. You were finally able to execute the move on your sixteenth try, collapsing to the floor as soon as Dick had stepped away from you.

“Is it time for the knives now?” Damian’s impatient voice rang out as you laid on the floor panting.

You knew that this was beneficial to you, but you were beginning to feel like you were the only sane person in this place right now.

“Do you want to try another move?” Dick asked, helping you to your feet.

What you wanted to do was pass out until your body wasn’t on fire anymore, but you didn’t vocalize that desire. As hard as this was, you had chosen this lifestyle, and you couldn’t just back out now. You had resigned yourself to just be one big bruise tomorrow when you were once again rescued by what felt like the only other person with any sense in this place.

“If I may put forward a suggestion,” Alfred said, entering the area with a shiny silver tray in hand. “How about a demonstration from the two of you while she takes a break? It would not do to overdue things so early into her training and leave her bedbound.”

You could hug Alfred, but were reluctant to accept his help, not wanting to seem weak in front of the two heroes.

“Finally!” Damian cheered, clearly eager for some action.

Dick frowned, looking you over and seeming to come to a realization. “Sure. Take a break with Alfred and then we’ll work on some other moves.”

You agreed, following Alfred over to one of the work benches where a chair was waiting for you. Alfred chose to stand, offering you a glass of water from his tray, which you gratefully accepted as Dick and Damian squared up opposite each other.

“Don’t look too harshly upon Master Dick,” Alfred said as he watched the two readying themselves. “He’s been a part of this world since he was young and sometimes forgets that others are only human.”

You hummed in response as Dick removed the two sticks from his back and Damian unsheathed a sword. Looking at the two now, your light powers felt like party tricks. The feeling only grew as Dick leapt out at Damian, his metal stick meeting Damian’s blade. They fought fiercely, and you were having a hard time determining who was winning. You would have to try harder.

Damian seized Dick’s arm, trying to flip him, but Dick went with the movement, flipping through the air and landing in a perfect tuck roll. Watching the two meet blows, you were filled with the urge to push yourself farther, to be an asset to Dick when thus far you had just been a burden.

After a harsh kick from Damian sent Dick to the floor, you saw your chance to act. Dick’s back was to Damian as the teen dashed forward with his sword. You knew he couldn’t possibly be going for the kill, but you saw your chance to fulfil Damian’s earlier request and prove your worth all at once and took it, quickly creating a sloping barrier of light in front of Dick, solidifying it right as Damian lunged forward, his sword clanging uselessly against the sudden barrier.

Damian let out a surprised noise, but recovered quickly, approaching the barrier to take a closer look at it as Dick stood up, looking past the barrier to where you sat with Alfred.

“Thanks for the save,” you heard, jolting in surprise from the closeness of his voice. He was across the room, but you could hear him as if he was standing next to you.

Dick laughed. “Bruce upgraded your mask, so it’s on our frequency now.”

How had you not noticed? It had looked so similar to your mask. Pulling it off, you let the light barrier fall as you examined the inside of your new mask.

“Hey! Put it back up!” Damian exclaimed, sword in hand. “I was gonna see if I could break it!”

Standing up, you thanked Alfred for the water before approaching the boys, waving a hand and creating a new wall for Damian to wail away at.

“You’re lucky she saved you,” Damian taunted. “I was about to win our match.”

You laughed, and Dick’s attention turned to you. “Is that a request for more hold escape training I hear?”

“Uh–” You backed up, trying to assess your chances of retreating to hide behind Alfred before Dick could get over to you. Today was going to be a long day.

 You were so tired. Dick had definitely made you pay for laughing at his expense.

He had made you run through escaping holds several more times, as well as numerous other defence techniques. By the time he mercifully called an end to the day’s training, you were worn down physically and mentally, unable to do much more than collapse in your bed. The reality of self-defence was much more difficult than those YouTube videos you had watched had led you to believe, but you had to do what you could to be ready the next time Parasis struck.

The rest of your week passed in much the same way, training yourself to the bone during the day and sleeping all night, with one notable exception.

Much to his own dismay, Damian had been unable to so much as crack your light wall, and had become obsessive with the need to defeat this new self-imposed foe. He didn’t seem to have any interest in accepting defeat, and had been pestering you several times a day to test himself against your powers. He hadn’t let up, and by Friday he had been driving you insane.

You hadn’t minded humoring him at first, but he got more and more frustrated with each failed attempt, and unfortunately was no less interested in besting your powers with his own skill. You had even considered breaking the wall and pretending he had done it just to get him to leave you alone, but dismissed the idea; Damian was too smart for his own good, and definitely too smart to fall for a trick like that, which left you only one option.

It was late evening, just about time for Damian’s usual late night practice request as you rushed down the hallway and into Dick’s sitting room, hurriedly knocking on the door to his bedroom. Dick opened the door, dressed in a pair of striped pajama pants and a black tank top, and was about to lean against the doorframe until you stopped him by pushing him into the room, entering behind him and shutting the door.

He looked a little confused by your odd behavior, at least until you opened your mouth.

“You have to help me. I can’t take it anymore!” you groaned, back against the door, listening for any noises in the hallway outside, but knowing it was a fruitless effort with how quiet that kid was when he wanted to be.

Dick looked at you with a sympathetic wince. “Damian?”

“He’s driving me nuts!” you exclaimed, slumping to the floor. “Does he ever give up?”

“From my experience, no,” Dick answered. “Not until he wins. He’s a good kid, and he’s usually not this bad, but…”

“And I can’t even fake break it because he’d know!” you lamented. “If I have to sit through another hour of him acting like I make my walls unbreakable just to spite him, I’m going to lose it!”

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” Dick reassured you, pulling you up from the floor. “I’ve got a plan that’ll make him leave you alone for the night.”

“Seriously?” you replied. You didn’t think anything would dissuade the persistent Robin; your denials and excuses sure hadn’t.

“Leave it to me,” he said, gesturing for you to follow him over to his couch that sat in front of a T.V. that was the same size as the one in your guest room. “You came at a good time. I finally figured out how to work Netflix on this thing.”

Work Netflix? You raised an eyebrow at his surprisingly poor technology skills for someone who had put a tracker on your phone using just his mask. But how was Netflix supposed to ward Damian off for the night?

“He usually comes to find you right about now, right?” Dick asked, remote in hand.

“Yes,” you groaned. “I don’t know why he thinks try forty-one is going to go any better than try forty.”

The Netflix logo appeared on the T.V., quickly loading into the selection screen, which you noted didn’t have anything under the continue watching category. Seemed that Dick didn’t often have time for movies, which wasn’t really a surprise from what you knew of him.

Dick was scrolling through options with you sitting on the other end of the couch, confused, when there was a loud knock on his door.

You flinched at the voice you had grown to dread as of late.

“Hey, Grayson, is she in there? I’ve got a technique down that’s gonna crack that wall in half!”

Dick moved quickly, clicking on a movie from the Romantic category, skipping partway into the movie before reaching over and pulling you over to him. You couldn’t so much as yelp in surprise as you found yourself sitting in Dick’s lap, his arms around you from behind as you stared dumbly at the screen that was displaying a scene from some rom-com that you vaguely recognized.

“Yeah, she’s in here,” Dick called out, and the door opened, Damian not waiting for permission to enter.

“Okay, this time–” Damian froze, his face looking as stunned as you felt right now. “What are you doing?”

“Watching a movie,” Dick answered casually, subtly pushing your body back to rest against his front.

“That’s not… you know Parasis is still out there!” Damian scolded, clearly put off-kilter by the unexpected scene before him.

“Parasis? I thought you were here to ask her to train with you again,” Dick replied with tactical casualness.

“I–” Damian froze up.

“She’s kinda busy right now,” Dick added. “If you really want to watch the movie with us…”

“I don’t!” Damian snapped with a scowl. “I’ll train by myself.”

Damian turned on his heel, quickly exiting the room. You waited until you heard the door in Dick’s sitting room close as well before moving.

“Thanks for the help, I–” you started, making to get up from the couch, but found yourself unable to move, thanks to Dick’s arms staying stubbornly wrapped around your waist. “…Dick?”

You turned as much as you were able to, finding yourself almost nose-to-nose with Dick, the movie still playing beside you, the sound dulling more by the second as it was overtaken by the thumping of your heart in your ears.

“Uh,” you breathed with a shudder that he definitely had to have noticed. Dick didn’t shy away, in fact he moved closer, now so close that your noses almost brushed, leading your brain to unleash the only thought that had entered your mind at the moment. “That thing you said about it being a date… it wasn’t just a joke?”

“Nope, wasn’t a joke,” he replied lowly, sending goosebumps prickling along your skin as he leaned the last bit forward to kiss you… only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.

Dick pulled away from you with a sigh. “It’s open, Damian.”

The door opened to reveal Alfred instead. “I’m afraid I am not Master Damian, but I come with news. It seems Parasis has finally made her next move.”

 You and Dick stood behind Bruce at the Batcomputer, all three of you in costume. You fidgeted in place as Bruce pulled up a feed from a news channel that seemed to be live.

“…have confirmed that the victim was the current C.E.O. of Clifton-Woods Trading. It is being reported that his eyes were found to be red when his body was examined, a symptom that is being linked to an emerging new party drug. What we can…”

The noise faded to a whisper as you stared at the picture of the victim on the screen. He was older than you remembered, his hair a lot grayer than the last time you had seen him when you were younger, but he was unmistakable.

“No…” you gasped in horror, more for your friend than yourself.

“What’s wrong?” Dick asked, leaning over to get a look at your distressed expression.

“That’s my friend’s… that’s Kamila’s dad.”

 An hour later, you were on the phone with Kamila, sitting on the guest room bed. Dick had volunteered to go to the scene in your stead, a suited-up Damian eagerly joining him, leaving you to once again try to keep Kamila together.

“When are you coming to Bludhaven?” you asked.

“Tomorrow,” she replied quietly, voice hoarse from crying. “Mom’s paying for the funeral to be tomorrow afternoon. After Emile died, she can’t handle another big service.”

“I’ll be there,” you promised. “I don’t want you to be there alone.”

“Thanks,” she said with a shuddered breath. “Just… why is this all happening? Wasn’t I miserable enough after Emile died? Why does this keep happening to my family?”

Her last sentence stuck with you long after you had hung up the phone. It was tragic for one member of her family to be killed by cherry, but what did that make it now? As much as you wanted it to be a tragic coincidence, there was almost no way that was possible. With the death of Kamila’s father, it shifted from a coincidence to a pattern. Someone was targeting Kamila’s family, but why?

“There were traces of the new strain in his wine and his food,” Dick explained when he returned. “Someone really wanted to make sure he died.”

“But was it Parasis or someone else?” you wondered out loud. “She didn’t seem to care what the dealers did with the cherry once it was out of her hands.”

“We also have to consider that Parasis has some sort of grudge against your friend’s family. It’s pretty easy to slip an addict a death pill, but going after a C.E.O… it’s like she doesn’t care about being stealthy anymore.”

“What do we do then?” you said, nails biting into the bed sheets. “Wait until Kamila and her mom are dead too?”

You knew that you were getting overemotional, but you hadn’t expected this case to get so personal. You couldn’t lose Kamila; she was your oldest friend, you had been there for each other through everything.

“Calm down,” Dick soothed gently. “What we’re going to do now is get some sleep. Parasis showed us her hand for a reason by going after him, so I doubt she’s going to go after anyone else tonight.”

“How do you know that?” you asked, wanting desperately to believe what he was saying was true.

“When you fight as many villains as I have, you learn that they all have a flair for the dramatic,” he answered. “She’s made her targets clear, so now it’s just a matter of what she plans to do now. These types always go for a dramatic finale.”

 The Bludhaven Police Department had evidently thought along the same lines, as there was a heavy police presence at the small funeral. The guests in attendance were little more than you, Kamila, her mother and a few family friends who lived nearby, but the venue was plenty loud, owing to the mass of reporters outside, all clamoring to get a statement from the grieving family.

Alfred had sourced you a simple black long-sleeved dress to wear, and Dick had driven you to the church, thankfully by car this time. You had told him that you could find your own way back to your apartment after the funeral, but he had insisted on driving you after, going so far as to jokingly threaten to wait outside the church.

“Thank you for coming, dear,” Kamila’s mom greeted you. “First Emile, now Sergio… I feel like I have nothing left in this world.”

You smiled politely, glad that Kamila wasn’t in earshot to hear that. Eliana Parra had never been particularly rude to you, but she had a clear narcissistic streak. But she had just lost her husband and son, and was clearly suffering, and you weren’t enough of a jerk to kick her when she was down. You just hoped she would keep any more comments like that to herself when Kamila was nearby.

“You’re here,” Kamila said, approaching you as her mother left to talk to another family member. She had a long black dress on, her dark hair pulled back in an updo.

“I’m so sorry, Kamila,” you said, giving her a hug.

She sighed. “It’ll be a miracle if I make it through the service. I tried to convince mom to make it a closed casket, but she started going on about seeing dad one last time…”

“Does he have…?”

“The veil on his eyes?” Kamila finished for you. “No. This time it’s sunglasses. Maybe I should ask for heart-shaped ones for my funeral.”

“Kamila!” you chastised quietly as the scant attendees filed towards the casket to say their goodbyes.

“What?” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Clearly I’m next. The mandatory police detail sure thinks so at least.”

“You’ll be fine, Kami,” you said as you both watched Kamila’s mother slump over the casket, wailing loudly.

“Easy for you to say,” she replied. “You’re not the one with some psycho supervillain after you.”

“The police will protect you!” you protested.

“The police are a joke,” she retorted. “But I’ll worry about them later. Wanna come up with me when mom stops drowning dad in tears?”

Kamila was going to be in town for a week to help her mother deal with matters related to her father’s estate. She had informed you that she would be staying with her mother, brushing off your concerns for her mental health and instead making you promise to meet up for coffee in a few days if she wasn’t dead by then.

“I’m not sure how she’s holding up,” you told Dick on the ride to your apartment after. “On the phone she sounded upset, but in person she was so angry.”

“Maybe it’s a stages of grief thing,” he suggested.

“I hope so,” you replied. “I just can’t stop worrying that something is going to happen to her.”

“I know,” he replied somberly. “But we won’t let anything happen to her. Bruce is doing what he can to investigate anyone with links to Parasis so we can stop her before she goes after either of them.”

You didn’t reply, staring dully out the window and hoping that this time you would be able to prevent another tragedy.

 Monday morning, you were back at work, trying desperately to put your current worries aside long enough to focus on your job. Thankfully Gertie was more than willing to distract you, and had been chattering your ear off since you got in about the whole donation from Bruce Wayne fiasco.

“I hear they have these new water fountains that give an electric shock when someone tries to put gum in them. Now that we have some cashflow, I think I’ll finally put in a request for one!” she informed you proudly.

You were pretty sure that there was no such thing, but you didn’t want to rain on her parade. It was a wonder that Gertie had decided to work in a public library in the first place, since she didn’t seem to like the public all that much, with one apparent exception.

“Now that Bruce Wayne, he’s a real stud of a man,” she said, and you bit your lip to keep yourself from letting out a nervous laugh. “If he was my age, I would’ve snapped him right up.”

She probably would’ve snapped him in half if she know who he really was. She had a special hate for Nightwing, but had also turned away a man in a Batman shirt earlier, pointing to her large sign that read no attire that promotes criminal behavior is allowed in the library when he tried to argue. You were just glad that her self-described vigilante radar wasn’t as sharp as she seemed to think it was, or you’d be out of a job and possibly arrested.

Your stomach was a little less in knots by the time your shift was almost over, which you had Gertie and her ramblings to thank for. Kamila had texted you a few times since the funeral, mostly to complain about the police detail or her mother’s emotional outbursts, but at least she was alive. You were relieved she was being protected, but for how long?

You had just given the fifteen minutes to closing warning over the PA system when the front door opened and in walked a dark-haired guy, dressed in jeans and a blue sweater with a leather jacket thrown on overtop.

Walking around the custodian’s cleaning cart, he made his way over to the circulation desk.

“Can you tell me where the superhero comics are?” he asked.

Gertie was on him before you could answer.

“We do not carry that kind of deviant filth in our library, young man!” she spoke sternly. “Today’s youth should be spending less time venerating those bat hoodlums and more time studying Reaganomics! What I wouldn’t give for things to be like they were back then…”

While Gertie was losing herself in her 80s political nostalgia, you stepped up to the desk opposite Dick.

“I hope you’re happy,” you whispered grouchily. “Now I’m going to have to listen to another speech about vigilantism corrupting the youth at the next library team meeting.”

“That’s Gertie, I take it? Maybe I should introduce my–”

“Maybe you should tell me why you’re here. At closing. When I’m trying to close,” you cut in.

“Bruce wants us to come by,” he explained. “He wants to talk about Parasis.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “But don’t say that name too loudly.”

“Parasis?” he asked.

“No, Bruce,” you clarified. “I only just got Gertie to stop talking about what a strapping young hunk of a man he is.”

“…got it,” Dick replied, looking somewhat amused. “I’ll wait in the parking lot.”

Dick left, and you risked a glance over your shoulder, paranoid that Gertie might have heard your conversation, only to find that she seemed to have lost interest in being at the desk entirely after Dick’s superhero comic query, and was off chasing lingering patrons out so you could close. She seemed even more fired up than usual, which you figured was owing to the T.V. show she had been talking about all day (when she hadn’t been talking about Bruce Wayne) that she refused to be home late for.

“See you tomorrow,” you said with a wave to Gertie as she gleefully locked the front doors.

“You have a nice night, dear,” she replied. “Just stay away from hoodlums like that boy. I don’t want you being corrupted by his dangerous ideas. First it’s reading those Special Man comics, next it’s robbing banks and stripping cars!”

You were pretty sure she meant Superman, but didn’t dare correct her, merely parting ways with her with a smile on your face. Given you had to work with her most days, you weren’t willing to risk having her wrath aimed in your direction.

You found Dick in the back parking lot, leaning against his bike. Seemed it would be the wind-ruffled hair look for you today. You were at least glad you had worn pants to work.

You purposefully stopped a short distance away from him, crossing your arms over you chest. “You know, I’m not sure if I should go with you. Gertie said you’ve got dangerous ideas, like reading comic books and stripping cars.”

“Me, dangerous ideas?” he replied with exaggerated shock. “If anything, you’re the one getting me involved in the nefarious schemes.”

You groaned in response as he climbed onto his bike, patting the seat behind him.

“You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll only strip maybe one car.”

“Dick!”

 “She’s gathering forces. I managed to intercept a message recruiting men for some sort of an attack next Saturday,” Bruce explained.

Your heart sunk. “That’s the day Kamila’s supposed to leave Bludhaven to go back home.”

“So that’s Parasis’ last chance to get them both at the same time,” Dick observed.

“Why is she waiting?” Damian cut in. “She could attack them at any time. Why wait until the last second?”

“Is there some sort of event happening then?” you asked Dick. “I know you said villains like to be overdramatic.”

“They usually do,” he confirmed. “But this doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing special about Saturday that I can think of.”

“Back in the warehouse, she told me she was doing this for revenge, but I don’t remember Kamila ever telling me about anyone with a grudge against her family,” you said. “She didn’t say anything like that at the funeral either.”

“I’ve considered that as well,” Bruce replied. “We’ve looked into Sergio Parra’s company, and it seems fairly typical for a stock brokerage, but that doesn’t discount the possibility of a scorned client wanting to get even.”

“I did an analysis on the firm’s clients, but not many fit the profile we’re looking for,” Alfred said as photos of several women appeared on the large computer screen. “These women are all former clients of Clifton-Woods whose files listed their stock portfolios as performing significantly poorly. Three such clients have filed reports with FINRA alleging stock mismanagement, but their complaints have all been deemed meritless.”

“But who could hate a stock brokerage enough to kill the C.E.O. and his family? And why kill all the other drug addicts then?” you asked, staring at the faces of the potential villainesses.

“You’d be surprised the lengths people will go to for any little slight,” Dick said, and you knew that it was likely experience talking.

“So what now? Are we going to interrogate them?” Damian asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“No,” Batman replied. “We investigate them. We can’t risk tipping Parasis off again and winding up in another trap.”

You knew that he wasn’t saying it maliciously, but his words made shame burn in your chest. You were the only one here who had done both of those things and complicated the situation. It was plainly obvious that you were the weak link here, leaving you feeling like you were the odd one out.

“It’s okay,” Dick spoke softly, too quietly for the others to hear, one hand rising to run gently up and down the small of your back. “Nobody is blaming you. Every one of us has felt like you do right now.”

“Dick…”

“Is that all?” Damian said, pushing himself up out of his chair and turning to face you. “Because if I’m helping with this, then you owe me one. That dumb light wall is breaking for sure this time.”

You looked to Dick for help, but received a powerless shrug in response. Great.

 “I think Damian’s got the right idea,” Dick said as you and Damian shared a confused look. “You normally use your powers to fight, so I think we should start training with you using them.”

You had no objections, considering that was the only chance you had to last in a fight with either of them, so you donned your new suit, standing opposite Damian in his.

“Now Damian, remem–“

“Remember to go easy on her, I heard you the first time,” Damian deadpanned, eager to begin. “I won’t kill your girlfriend, Grayson, stop worrying.”

Dick didn’t correct him, merely staring at him warily for a moment before giving the signal for you to begin. Damian charged at you, but your mind was elsewhere. He hadn’t mentioned the date, or the almost-kiss… you had no idea what to think about the whole situation with Dick.

Damian wasn’t about to wait for you to sort out your mental issues, and you were barely able to create a spear in time to block a blow from his sword. Undeterred, Damian came back at you, and you were forced to back up to avoid his slashes.

“Don’t concede ground to him unless you have to!” Dick called out. “Otherwise you’ll get yourself backed into a corner.”

“Your form sucks,” Damian added, pausing in his attack. “Can you turn that into a sword?”

“I can turn it into pretty much anything,” you replied, obligingly changing the spear into a copy of his own blade, which seemed to fascinate him.

“Give it here,” he said, taking the sword and seemingly assessing its weight. As he held the sword, a thought seemed to occur to him. “Can you create another wall?”

You weren’t sure why he was on about the walls again, but obliged, creating a wall off to the side. Damian put down his own sword, instead diving at the wall, the light sword in his hand. Unlike his previous attempts, this time the wall was cleanly severed in two by one swipe of the light blade.

Damian stood smugly beside the felled wall. “Knew it wasn’t invulnerable.”

That was something new for you as well. You hadn’t considered attacking your own solid light with itself. At least this hopefully meant that Damian would stop bugging you to make walls for him to attack.

“You just need to learn to think on your feet,” Dick said as he approached. “Villains aren’t going to give you the time to think about your options in a fight, so you have to be able to react in an instant.”

Easy for him to say, when he had been doing this for… how long had he been doing this for? The articles on him you had found had gone back a few years at least…

“Bruce took me in as Robin when I was twelve,” Dick answered when you posed the question.

“Wait…” Dick had to be around your age, if not a little older, but that would mean… “You were the first Robin? That one they kept calling the boy wonder on T.V.?”

Dick winced at the title, but Damian let out an amused snort. “More like the grandpa wonder now.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “What was that? You want me to give Tim your new number? Just let me–”

“You do that and I’ll–” Damian snarled, while you silently regretted asking the question in the first place.

Now that you had the date that Parasis intended to strike, there wasn’t much for you to do but go about your life until Saturday. Investigation was clearly not your forte, so Bruce had been handling that side of the operation, supported by Alfred as well as Dick and Damian. You had asked if there was anything you could do to help, but Bruce had gently rejected your offer, insisting that the most helpful thing you could do was continue training with Dick after work.

It had been easier to just meet up at Dick’s cross train studio, so that’s where you had been heading after work to train with Dick in his back area between his sessions with actual clients. You knew that your reaction time was slowly improving, even if you doubted that you could ever beat him in an actual fight, though improving your fighting capabilities hadn’t taken away all of your other problems.

Dick still hadn’t made any mention of the almost-kiss, or said anything else to clarify for you what you were supposed to think about the two of you. While he seemed like a sweet guy, you didn’t know him well enough to know if he was just like that with women or if you were a special case. He had clearly sidestepped the attractive hostess’ more-than-obvious advances, but that alone wasn’t enough to convince you that he was actually interested in you, and you weren’t about to ask him just to be rejected for taking his flirting too seriously and then making things awkward. And what was worse, Kamila had stopped replying to your texts.

She was still upset by her round-the-clock police escort, and had blown up at you when you had tried to suggest that it was justifiable under her current circumstances. Five texts and three calls since had gone unanswered, so you assumed she didn’t want to talk to you, which was so unlike her. You did your best to ignore your pitiful personal life, instead putting your all into training to make sure you would have a chance the next time you clashed with Parasis.

“Still nothing?” Dick asked as he entered the back area after a training session with some hockey player to see you sitting on his couch, staring blankly at your phone.

You set your phone down beside you with a sigh. “She’s never just blown me off like this before. I want to tell her what I know so badly, but I can’t explain how I know she’s likely going to be attacked on Saturday. All I said was that it was good the police were protecting her and she just went off on me.”

Dick crossed the room, taking a seat next to you. “She’s probably just stressed and lashing out.”

“I don’t want her to die,” you said quietly. “I’m just terrified I won’t be able to save her if something happens.”

“That’s normal,” he replied, pulling you into his side, one arm around your shoulders. “But you’re not alone this time. Bruce, Damian, Alfred, they’re all here to help.”

“…and you?” you asked lowly, almost afraid to voice your desire for his support.

“I thought that was implied,” he grinned. “How am I supposed to redeem myself in Gertie’s eyes if I let everyone else hog all the glory?”

“You know, if she was dangling from a burning building, she’d probably stab you with a knitting needle before she’d let you save her,” you laughed.

“I used to be popular with old women,” he grumbled.

“When?” you asked. “When you were the boy wonder and saving their cats from trees?”

“I’m never going to live that name down,” he replied wryly. “Villains love greeting me with that one. I’d like to see one of them try to get away with calling Damian the boy wonder.”

You laughed at the mental image as Dick got up to shift some furniture and make room for you two to spar. Dick was more pleasant than Damian, but no less of a difficult opponent. At least you could confidently say you were getting good experience in sizing up when you were fighting a losing battle, which was most of the time when you sparred with Dick, even if he was trying to go easy on you. You were just glad he was good at controlling the amount of force he exerted or you would be as black and blue as his suit.

The week had passed by with no further attacks from Parasis, just as Bruce had predicted. Kamila had finally begun replying to your messages, but only with short few-word answers, which you would take over no reply at all, even just as a reassurance that she was still alive and well.

Given whatever Parasis was planning was more than likely to happen on Saturday, you had been asked to leave early to return to Bruce’s mansion to go over the strategy. Even for Batman, you doubted that a simple strategy meeting would need so much time. Alfred hadn’t said it on the phone, but you were pretty sure Bruce was also looking to see if you had improved your combat skills since last time, which was a daunting prospect.

“You’ll be fine,” Dick had told you on the Friday afternoon ride back to Gotham. “He’s not going to expect you to be at our level overnight.”

Gertie, for her part, had been more than understanding about you leaving work early, suspiciously so. You had told her that Bruce had requested a follow-up regarding the project you had helped him with, which you suspected had fed into her willingness to pick up your slack. Your suspicions were only further confirmed when she stopped you on your way out, making you promise to ask Bruce if he had an interest in slightly older women, shuffling gleefully over to yell at a shouting kid when you had agreed.

You had entered through the front door this time, Alfred insisting on having you sit down for dinner, dismissing your polite protests.

“If you are to go on a mission tomorrow, you need to be eating properly,” he had said as you followed him to the dining room. “Master Bruce is… busy, but I will call Master Damian down to join you.”

“I feel bad,” you said to Dick after Alfred had left to get Damian. “I don’t want to make Alfred go to so much trouble.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Dick replied. “Alfie likes family dinners, but with how busy Bruce always is, he doesn’t often get the chance to do them. I know I don’t visit as often as I probably should.”

“You’re right about that,” Damian agreed as he entered the room, taking the seat opposite Dick. “If you’re not here, whose ass will I kick at Swordwalkers?”

You recognized the name; some teenagers had been in the library the other day, all asking if you had the newest installment of that particular fighting game. Now that you thought about it, Damian seemed like the perfect target for a game like that, since he was both a highly skilled fighter and a teenaged boy.

“You’re bad at it?” you asked as Alfred brought out bowls of a tasty-looking stew.

“Terrible,” Damian answered before Dick could. “He can take out a room full of ninja assassins, but can’t figure out where the A button is without looking down.”

Dick ignored the jibe, instead tucking into his stew. “Great as always, Alfie.”

“Thank you, Master Dick,” Alfred replied proudly. “I was unsuccessful in my earlier attempt to coax Master Bruce into eating, so I would be grateful if you could bring his bowl down with you when you go.”

He was looking at you, and you stared back, confused. “You want me to do it?”

Alfred smiled a smile that told of the hardships he had endured with this particular issue. “When Master Bruce is busy, he does not often make time for basic life-sustaining necessities. Since he isn’t listening to me, I thought that maybe this situation required a woman’s touch.”

“He thinks father will agree if he catches him off guard,” Damian cut in.

“An astute butler uses all methods at his disposal,” Alfred replied, not denying Damian’s assertion.

You stared down at your almost-empty bowl of stew, feeling bewildered at the prospect of encouraging Batman to eat dinner like you were feeding a toddler cheerios.

“I can give it a try if you’d like,” Dick offered from your side. “You look like he just asked you to babysit Killer Croc.”

You appreciated Dick’s thoughtfulness, reluctantly agreeing to give it a try, following Dick and Damian down to the cave carrying a warm bowl of stew in your hands. Both boys came to a stop when you all caught sight of the dark figure sitting at the Batcomputer, and you took that as your cue to step forward.

“Um, Mr. Wayne?” you spoke up nervously, too nervous to just call him Bruce like a normal person, the man before you in full Batman getup minus his cowl turned in his chair to face you. “Alfred said you hadn’t eaten yet, so he gave me this to bring down for you.”

Bruce stared at you for a short moment before he held out a hand. “…fine. I wasn’t expecting Alfred to be so persistent this time.”

You retreated back as Bruce accepted the bowl and spoon and began to eat, relieved that you had gotten through it somehow. At the same time, a worrying thought occurred to you; how were you supposed to face Parasis again if you had this much trouble working up the courage to hand Batman his dinner?

“The Mr. Wayne was a nice touch,” Damian remarked as you approached. “Don’t think that’ll work when you fight him though.”

“Fight him?” You reeled back in shock.

Damian looked unimpressed, raising an eyebrow at you like you were an idiot, which he probably thought anyways. “You didn’t think he was going to send you out into the field without testing your abilities himself?”

You turned your terrified eyes to Dick, who sent you a sympathetic smile. “It’s a right of passage of sorts. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t budge.”

“He won’t kill you,” Damian added. “…probably.”

“Don’t scare her,” Dick rebuked Damian, who looked unfazed.

“Don’t coddle her,” Damian countered. “You’ve been training her by yourself the past week and we need to know what we have to work with tomorrow.”

You were too nervous about the imminent fight with Batman to be offended by Damian’s words, staring at the floor as your stomach twisted in knots. You had learned a lot from Dick over the past week, but Batman would have to be unconscious for you to stand any chance at beating him in a fight.

“You’ll be fine,” Dick’s reassuring voice came from your side. “We’ve both been in your place before.”

You didn’t look up, but froze in place at the next voice to talk.

“Suit up.”

You forced yourself to look up to see Bruce, who had finished his stew and now stood before you in full suit and cowl. You let out an internal sigh as you followed him to the training area, feeling like you were walking to your execution.

You stood twenty feet or so apart, unsure of when the fight would begin until Bruce suddenly darted at you. You backed up, nerves flaring up, but then Dick’s previous warning rang out in your head. If you let your opponent corner you, you were handing the fight to them on a silver platter. And you had no doubts that Bruce would happily take advantage of any weaknesses you presented to him. You didn’t think you could win this fight, but maybe you didn’t need to; if you could last long enough to impress Bruce even a tiny bit, then you would consider that a win.

You didn’t have the fancy moves Dick and Damian had, or the strength that Bruce had, so you would have to let your powers do the heavy lifting. When Bruce went in for a punch, you jolted back, creating a wall of light and propelling it forward to push him a few steps back.

You weren’t given a moment to relax as Bruce quickly darted around the wall and you were forced on the retreat. Bruce went to throw a kick your way, a kick which you discovered too late he had faked as you were grabbed and tossed across the room. Relying on training from Dick, you did your best to go with the momentum, altering your position so you would land a little less painfully. Side stinging, you got up as Bruce approached yet again and you mentally reminded yourself not to get in a real fight with him.

“Study your opponent,” Bruce instructed. “Adapt your style as you go. The last thing you want to be in a fight is predictable.”

Taking his advice, you created an illusion of yourself, sending it walking in the opposite direction you were. You didn’t want to injure Bruce, but you needed to prove to him that you were capable. You didn’t want Dick and Damian to look on at the fight and cringe. You knew they were watching, but you couldn’t divert your attention from Bruce for one second right now.

Bruce looked between the two yous and you tried to remain steady as you thought of a plan. What came to you was definitely an unconventional plan, but hey, they were the ones who had emphasized fast thinking.

You and your illusion stepped closer to Bruce, hoping to distract him as you stealthily created a thin pole of light on the ground behind him. Creating a spear of light in your and your illusion’s hands, you made like you were readying to attack him.

Bruce seemed to decide something, turning his attention towards you instead of your illusion, but you weren’t worried, not if he hadn’t caught onto what you were actually trying to do.

You took another step forward, goading Bruce into doing the same, and then you struck. The light pole you had made had been inching closer to the caped crusader, and at your command, it struck, slipping up under his cape and flipping it up over his head. Bringing two spears from the overhead lights, you sent them stabbing down, pinning his cape into the floor below.

Somewhat unsure of what you should be doing now, you ran at Bruce and leapt onto his back like a monkey. You were about to try and pin him to the ground like you had done to that one drug dealer, but a metallic click rang out and you then found yourself bucked over Bruce’s head as his cape fluttered to the ground. You were momentarily stunned as you sat in Bruce’s arms, as he had mercifully caught you after bucking you off his back like a horse.

“Not bad,” he said, placing you down on your feet. “You’re using your powers much better than you were before.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you stammered, not expecting the praise.

“One thing,” he said, leading you back to the Batcomputer. “Keep your eyes on your opponent, not your illusion. Your glances at it gave you away.”

“…oh.” So that was how he knew. Well, he at least didn’t seem upset by your performance in the fight.

“Remind me to return that cape I got on sale last week,” Dick remarked as he and Damian approached.

Now that you had seemingly passed his test, Bruce was back to business, pulling up the photos of the three scorned female ex-customers from Kamila’s dad’s firm. “I’ve eliminated all three from being Parasis. Two have been out of the country for years, and the last one is currently in prison. That doesn’t eliminate the possibility of Parasis acting on behalf of one of them, or another ex-customer, but the chance is very unlikely.”

Well that wasn’t the news you had been wanting to hear, especially the night before your friend and her mom were due to be attacked by a rogue villain. Who else could possibly want Kamila and her family dead?

“Do we have any other leads?” Dick asked. “Maybe the mother is the main target.”

“I considered that as well,” Damian added. “Why kill the one you hate the most first? It would be much more satisfying to get them after you’ve killed everyone they love.”

You blinked a few times, not quite believing you had just heard a fourteen-year-old say that. You had really found yourself in the middle of an interesting bunch of characters, to put things politely. You were just happy they were on your side.

“So what happens tomorrow?” Dick asked, staring at the Batcomputer’s giant monitor.

“Unless we get any new information, we trail Kamila and Eliana,” Bruce answered. “Damian and I will take Eliana, while you and Lightspear follow Kamila.”

“Kamila told me her plane home is at nine tomorrow night, so they’ll have to strike before then,” you informed the group.

“An all-day stakeout mission… great,” Damian said apathetically, boredly inspecting his fingernails.

“We have a trace on both of their phones, so they should be easy to track,” Bruce added. “You should get some rest before tomorrow. Alfred has set up the guest bedroom for you again.”

“Thanks,” you said awkwardly, finding it weird to talk to a fully-suited-up Batman about guest bedrooms.

“I’ll continue to research links between Eliana Parra and organized crime,” Bruce said as you turned to leave. “Be ready to go at six. We don’t know when Parasis will strike, and it could be early.”

“Is he going to sleep tonight?” you asked quietly as you left Bruce at his computer.

Damian shrugged, while Dick sighed.

“It’s a fifty-fifty chance,” Dick replied. “He always gets like this when there are holes in an investigation.”

You felt bad leaving Bruce to do so much of the work by himself, but you knew that you wouldn’t have much to offer tomorrow if you were too sleep-deprived to stand. Bruce had been doing this whole hero thing for much longer than you had, so you’d have to trust him on this one.

Damian split from you and Dick, muttering something about checking on Alfred, leaving you and Dick to walk down the hall that led to both of your rooms. Even though you had been constantly alone with Dick over the past week, you had been unable to fully shake all of the nervousness you continued to feel.

It felt so wrong, worrying about a cute guy who was way out of your league when your best friend was in imminent mortal peril, but you couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from coming. You wanted comfort, you didn’t want to be alone right now, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to impose on a guy who had clearly had chances to clearly express an interest in you but hadn’t. Well, after tomorrow, you wouldn’t have to see him all the time, which would probably help quash your pesky infatuation with the handsome vigilante.

Saying goodnight to Dick, you entered your room, hoping to get some semblance of sleep before you went into battle. You just hoped that tomorrow wouldn’t end with Kamila’s death.

 Alfred was a godsend, you decided, as you sat at the table eating an already-made breakfast.

You had woken up at five, too nervous to sleep in any longer, and had been sitting up in bed staring at the wall when there had been a knock on your door, which had revealed Alfred with a breakfast invitation.

Damian walked in with a yawn just as you were finishing your toast, Dick coming down not long after.

“So this is where you were,” Dick said, taking a seat next to you as Damian begun to dig into some eggs with incredible table manners.

Dick had been looking for you? You stared back at him, trying not to look too flustered.

“I thought you’d have trouble sleeping,” he admitted. “I was going to check on you, but your room was empty so I came down here.”

“I slept okay,” you said, suddenly not feeling like eating the rest of your food. “I’m just worried about how today is going to end.”

“It’ll be fine,” he replied softly. “You’re not going in alone this time. You’ve got all of us with you.”

“What if I let you down?” you pressed. “What if something happens to you or Damian or–”

“Then we’ll handle it,” he said, not denying the possibility. “But don’t undersell yourself. If you act on instinct, you’ll surprise yourself.”

“…right,” you sighed, deciding to attempt to shift gears and lighten the mood. “Sorry you’re stuck with me all day. I can ask Damian to switch with me if you guys want some boy time.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “Trying to get rid of me? Is this about the thing with Gertie?”

“Oh, god no,” you laughed, before remembering your last conversation with her. “Maybe she should have been paired with Bruce. She wouldn’t let me leave until I promised her I’d ask if he was into older women.”

“Can we not talk about father’s dating life right now,” Damian cut in disgustedly.

“If you have finished your breakfast, I would suggest getting into costume. Master Bruce is especially poor at waiting,” Alfred spoke up.

You turned to Dick and the empty space on the table in front of him. “You already ate?”

He smiled. “I was up at four.”

“Like a kid on Christmas morning,” you said with a shake of your head, although you weren’t exactly a stranger to being up at all hours of the night either.

“Comes with the job,” Dick shrugged, getting up, which prompted you and Damian to do the same. “Meet you in the cave in five?”

“Sounds good,” you replied, heading back upstairs with the two vigilantes.

Donning your upgraded costume, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, turning on one of your palm lights to make sure they worked before exiting the bathroom. After wearing this costume only a few times, you couldn’t imagine going back to your old store-bought one.

Examining your mask up-close, you ran a finger over the new metallic inside. This was it. Kamila’s fate today sat in your hands, and you were determined not to let anything happen to her, not if you could help it.

Storing your phone in your pocket, you left the room at last, making your way down to the Batcave to find everyone else already there and suited up. Feeling like you were late to the party, you walked towards the group, feeling nervous.

With a short glance your way, Bruce began. “We have no new information on the ex-clients, but we’ve established a link between Parasis and the Gray Dragons. It’s likely that they’re the ones supplying her with men.”

“Gray Dragons? I thought she was working with Poison Ivy,” you said.

Bruce shook his head. “Poison Ivy wouldn’t concern herself with something like this. It’s likely that Parasis made a deal with her in exchange for making her drug more potent, but Parasis needs men for whatever she has planned today.”

“So she linked up with a gang?” Dick finished.

“They’re likely the same gang that lured you into going to the warehouse,” Bruce said to you, bringing forth a memory of the time you had decided it would be a great idea to jump in on a gangster-infested drug deal. You felt so stupid, thinking back on that moment from not-so-long-ago.

“Have we been able to find anything out about when they intend to strike?” you asked. “Kamila told me she was probably gonna spend most of the day studying in a café downtown.”

“Their usual communication channel has been radio silent,” Bruce answered. “Alfred will be monitoring all of the usual frequencies while we’re out today in case communications resume.”

“Well what are we waiting for? We’ve got an old lady to stalk…” Damian said, not sounding incredibly enthused as he made his way over to the Batmobile.

“Stay in communication,” Bruce said as he made his way to the Batmobile as well. “If anything happens, contact us for help. I mean it, Dick.”

“Yeah, you got it, Bruce,” Dick replied, leaving you wondering why Bruce had emphasized it like that to Dick.

You waited until the sound of the Batmobile’s engine started up, quickly speeding up the pathway out before turning to Dick as he handed you a helmet.

“What was that about?” you asked.

“Er…” Dick smiled, looking sheepish. “Since I’ve been in Bludhaven, I try to do things on my own. I don’t want to be the me I was when I was Robin, always relying on Bruce for everything. With that shift in mentality, I admit I’m not the best at always returning calls lately.”

That was a surprise, but you supposed you could understand the feeling of striking out on your own, especially after he had been Batman’s sidekick for so long.

“I’m just glad you answered my call that night,” you replied softly. “Or else it would be me we’re hearing about in the news.”

“Well if we do our job well, the biggest story tonight will be the weather forecast,” Dick replied, leading you over to his bike before donning his own helmet.

You got on the bike behind Dick, silently jealous of Damian, who got to ride in a much safer vehicle. It wasn’t that Dick was a bad driver, but it was hard to beat the allure of a specially-reinforced bulletproof vehicle for a mission.

“Remember, only code names in the field,” Dick said, starting up the bike.

“Code na–?” You were cut off as the bike started up and you were forced to cling to Dick for dear life.

The ride into Bludhaven wasn’t too bad, but your nerves made it hard to focus, as you couldn’t stop worrying about the unknown. When would Parasis strike? Would you be able to stop her in time? Your mind was a jumbled mess of worries as Dick pulled into an alleyway near the coffee shop you knew Kamila would be at.

“Is it okay to just leave the bike here?” you asked dubiously. This was a nicer part of Bludhaven, but nowhere here was truly guaranteed to be free of crime.

Dick shrugged, grabbing an escrima stick from his back. “The bike can defend itself.”

“It can what?” you replied.

Dick just grinned in response, grabbing you around the waist with one arm before shooting his grappling line at the roof of the building opposite the coffee shop. Not expecting the action, you let out an embarrassingly loud yelp, legs feeling wobbly when you landed safely on the roof.

“Can you at least warn me when you’re going to do that?” you griped, feeling weary. Was everyone in this line of work an adrenaline junkie but you?

“Sorry,” he replied politely, peering over the edge of the building at the coffee shop below. “You said she’ll be here most of the day, right? Maybe I should have brought folding chairs.”

At the time, you had laughed, but as the day went on, you were wishing you did have a chair to sit in. Kamila had arrived at the little coffee shop at eight-thirty, and had replied to your text wishing her luck with her studies by sending you a picture of her books spread out on the table, a fancy latte just off to the side along with what looked to be a blueberry muffin.

You had been fine with the stakeout for the first few hours, but by two in the afternoon you were an unpleasant combination of sleepy, hungry and sore. You had thought that this would be the easy part of your day, but it certainly wasn’t turning out that way so far.

“Hey, I’ll grab us some lunch,” Dick said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. “Can you handle things here for ten minutes or so?”

“Sure,” you agreed. It was busy on the streets, and Kamila wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, not exactly prime conditions for kidnapping.

“Be back soon,” he said, before leaping off the roof.

You could only hope that Bruce and Damian were having a relatively easy time tailing Kamila’s mother. Speaking of which, Dick had showed you how to use the communication device in your new mask…

Activating the link, you spoke up, keeping your eyes on Kamila through the coffee shop window. “No movement here. Dick’s out getting us some food. How are things with you guys?”

The reply came immediately.

“You guys get food? I should’ve asked Pennyworth for a chicken and jalapeno sandwich before we left,” came Damian’s surly voice. “It’s only two and this old lady has been to two hair salons, a nail salon and five dress stores. If I have to watch her try on one more hideous dress, then I’m going to go down there and do Parasis’ job for–”

“We’ll update if we have any new information,” Bruce interrupted, and then the feed cut out.

You giggled to yourself; it seems like you had definitely lucked out in the subject and partner departments after all. As cool as it would be to partner with Batman on a mission, you weren’t sure if you could take the oppressive seriousness that always seemed to surround him. Dick’s comparatively more easygoing nature made him a better choice to partner with, even if it was hard to fully let go of all the awkwardness you had been feeling around him lately.

Before you could ruminate too much on that particular touchy subject, Dick returned, carrying a paper bag from a nearby fast food chain.

Taking the burger he offered your way, you stared at him curiously. “So did you just walk in and grab these?”

“Went through the drive-through,” he answered, taking a bite out of his own burger. “These aren’t as good as the ones at the diner, but it beats what Batman and Robin are doing.”

“You heard?” you laughed. “I knew Kamila’s mom was high-maintenence, but…”

“Robin is probably swearing vengeance on us as we speak,” Dick replied, and you would’ve laughed if your mouth hadn’t been overtaken by a long yawn. “First stakeout?”

“Yeah,” you answered tiredly. “There was never a need to trail anyone in my hometown, since the biggest crimes we had there were kids tagging train cars. It’s still hard to believe that I’m working with Batman and fighting people like Poison Ivy.”

“Hope you’re ready, since it doesn’t get any easier from here,” he replied, observing you for a moment before seeming to come to a decision. “Hey, in honor of your first stakeout, how would you like a one-time special offer? I’ve never even offered this one to Batman.”

“What?” you replied, puzzled by the sudden flourish to his words.

“You look tired,” he said kindly, gesturing his way with a wave. “I think we’ll still be here for a while, so my shoulder is available if you want to get a quick nap in.”

“Oh…” you breathed, recovering quickly enough given your surprise. “I would hope you had never offered that to Batman. I’d be scared to even try.”

“So?” Dick pressed with a teasing smile. “I promise to wake you up if anything happens.”

“I…” His offer was tempting, but not one that was so easily accepted. How would it look if you were sleeping on the job on your first serious mission?

“No one’s looking down on you,” he added. “But we’re likely going to have a fight on our hands tonight, and I need my partner as well-rested as possible, so really, you’re doing me a favor.”

Clicking your tongue, you sidled up to him, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “I get it, no need for the reverse-psychology.”

“Hey, I’ve gotta make some use out of those mandatory psych classes,” Dick quipped back, bringing one arm up to wrap around your side to keep you firmly against him.

You wanted to laugh, or be embarrassed by the close contact, but as it was finally given the opportunity to make up for lost sleep, your body took advantage of its opportunity, your eyes sliding closed as you slumped against Dick’s body and fell quickly asleep.

You were pleasantly warm and comfortable as you came back into awareness. Keeping your eyes closed, you began to recall your situation in full, from the mission, to your position on the roof across from the coffee shop, to your current predicament. You had remembered falling asleep on Dick’s shoulder, but it certainly didn’t feel like a shoulder under your head right now.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the underside of Dick’s chin. Blinking sleepily, you realized that your head had gone from resting against his shoulder to laying in his lap.

“Feeling well rested?” he asked, reaching down to brush some hair away from where it covered one of the eyes of your mask in a gesture that made your cheeks flush. “Hope you don’t mind the change in position; my shoulder was getting a bit sore.”

He didn’t seem eager to rush you off his lap, but you reluctantly sat up anyways, finding the position hard to stand now that you were fully awake and aware of your confusing feelings for Dick. You wished you could gather up the courage to ask him what he was feeling, but now wasn’t the time.

“How long was I out?” you asked, sitting up and peering over the edge of the roof to see Kamila in the same spot she had been in before you had dozed off.

“Uh, just over two hours?” Dick replied, trying to sound casual. “And before you freak out, all you missed was a minor car accident and Kamila getting a second drink.”

Two hours?! You were lucky that Batman wasn’t here or you were sure you’d get a lecture on standards of vigilante professionalism.

“I didn’t mind,” Dick added. “I’d rather have you rest now than pass out when the action starts, which is, uh, when did Kamila say she was studying here until?”

“Six,” you answered. “Then she’s heading back to her mom’s place to grab her stuff and then go catch her flight.”

“Then we’ll probably be on the move soon,” Dick replied. “It’s twenty minutes to six.”

Checking your phone, you found that he was right, as well as a text from Kamila that read if I don’t ace this final, then I’m suing the Bludhaven P.D. for this officer talking my ear off while I’m trying to study! Replying with your condolences, you stowed your phone back in your pocket, fixing your eyes on the street below.

“If she’s going to be attacked, they’ll do it on the streets,” Dick said from next to you. “One police officer isn’t going to make a difference to a gang like the Gray Dragons.”

“What’s the plan then?” you asked. Considering how much experience he had on you, and how your last plan had gone, you knew you were better off trusting Dick’s experience on this one.

“We stick to the roofs,” Dick answered. “It’s getting dark out and we want to keep them from noticing us until they make a move.”

“Got it,” you said, although the prospect of more swinging around on his grapple line had you feeling weary.

The twenty odd minutes you waited for Kamila to leave the coffee shop felt like a minute and an hour at the same time. Your stomach was in knots as you watched her pack her books in her bag before leaving the coffee shop to head home. Chest tightening with anxiety, you took Dick’s hand, allowing him to pull you to his side in order to begin your rooftop pursuit of your friend.

Kamila walked down the busy street for a while, any person getting the slightest bit closer to her sending your nerves into overdrive, but none of them so much as stopped her to ask for the time. Just as you were beginning to calm yourself down to a manageable level of panic, Kamila turned off the main street, heading down an alleyway.

You wanted to shout at her not to go that way, to jump down and get her out of there, but you couldn’t. If you blew your cover now, then you doubted you would have as much information the next time Parasis decided to go after her. Your best chance of saving Kamila and taking down Parasis was to put a stop to this all now while the chance was presenting itself to you.

The police officer trailing behind Kamila looked bored, and seemed to be playing on his phone as he walked five or so feet behind her. He was probably just excited about being off protection duty starting tomorrow, clearly already having discounted the possibility of anything happening to Kamila tonight. And here that salty news reporter had called vigilantism the biggest threat to the safety of the people of Bludhaven.

It was only when Kamila was near the end of the alleyway that you could breathe a minute sigh of relief, one that you quickly discovered had been woefully miscalculated. You took a step towards the next rooftop, eyes on Kamila below, feeling like she might come out of this okay.

“Lightspear!”

There was a harsh tug on your hand and you were pulled into Dick’s body as he took cover behind a broad chimney. An impact against the roof behind you had you turning to see a dark purple sphere where you had been standing. The sphere had begun leaking some kind of dark gas, which you quickly mitigated by creating a box of light over the sphere, the black gas quickly blocking the sphere entirely from view as it became heavily thick within the confines of the small box.

“What the hell is tha–”

A female scream from below interrupted your words and you focus and you turned your gaze below to see Kamila now surrounded by men in gray suits and masks. With a curse, you abandoned the smoking orb, allowing Dick to grab you and drop you both down to the alleyway below.

“Haven’t you heard that gray washes you out?” Dick called out to the men, pulling his escrima sticks from his back while you created a long spear for yourself.

The gray dragons clearly had no shortage of men. There were at least twenty packed in the narrow alleyway, half of which had already taken out the police officer and were dragging a struggling Kamila out of the alleyway and towards a waiting car.

There wasn’t a lot of time to talk, so you both jumped into action, Dick running in and easily knocking two men aside with a slash from his sticks. Standing farther back, you targeted the mens’ weapons, sending your spear through the barrel of their guns before pulling it back out, rendering the now-damaged guns useless.

It was obvious to you and the men that you were the weaker of your duo, so you weren’t surprised to find more attention being directed at you over Dick, who was fighting his way towards Kamila, who was nearly at the car now.

The threat of the advancing masked men forced your attention away from Dick and Kamila and onto the impending fight you had on your hands. You had broken their guns, but even without weapons, the bulky gang members wouldn’t be easy for you to win against in a fair fight, so it was a good thing that it wasn’t.

You created a wall in front of you, using it to push the men back away from you like you had done with Batman before splitting the wall into tiny splinters of light, leaving them in the air between you and the men as you took up a fighting stance with your spear.

The men around you seemed confused, but not undeterred by your light chips, running at you, only to impale themselves on the sharp slivers of light, quickly retreating back and picking the slivers out of their flesh as their blood stained their clothes. Hoping the slivers would serve as both a warning and a distraction, you charged forward, the sliver storm ahead of you moving as well and forcing the men to either side of the alley as you ran past.

Ahead of you, Dick had taken out a few men already, their bodies slumped down on the ground or against the equally-grimy alley walls. He was currently fighting his way through a group of men who were blocking the two that were lunging Kamila into the car, and though he was easily outclassing them in terms of skill, there were too many of them and too little time.

You sent the light chips behind you to keep the group you had escaped at bay, sprinting forward to try and reach Kamila, but there just wasn’t enough time. You heard the desperation in Kamila’s cries for help, saw the fear in her eyes, but then the car door was shut, the car quickly driving away at a rate of speed you could never hope to match on foot.

Turning around, you found that the men you had injured had all fled, the alley behind you bare except for small patches of shed blood. A sound behind you had you turning to see Dick kick the last standing man into the wall, where he slumped unconscious from the impact.

“Nightwing, they took her!” you cried, remembering not to use his real name at the last second in your panic.

You both rushed out of the alleyway, looking down the street to catch one last glimpse of the black van as it sped out of view.

Cursing, Dick activated his comm. “The Gray Dragons got Kamila. Dragged her into a black van with tinted windows.”

“The old lady was taken as well,” Damian replied. “They sent around fifty men after her and we only just finished taking them all out.”

“Do we still have the track on their phones?” you asked desperately. You didn’t see Kamila’s bag on the ground, but that didn’t mean that the gang hadn’t thrown it out the window the first chance they got.

“Both traces are still moving,” came Alfred’s voice. “They seem to be heading for the portside warehouses near the stadium.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Dick said, turning to meet your eyes when Bruce spoke up.

“You’ll have to go alone,” his deep voice responded. “We’ve just gotten reports that Parasis’ men have poisoned the water supply with cherry and destroyed the failsafe. Robin and I will go to the water treatment plant to stop it, you and Lightspear go after Parasis and recover the victims.”

You frowned. Either she wanted to take out the entirety of Bludhaven now, or she wanted all of you out of her way, and you knew which possibility you would bet on.

“Stay safe,” you said as Dick pressed a button on one of his sticks.

Damian snorted. “I should be saying that to you. Don’t expect me to go easy on you in Swordwalkers later if you get yourself poisoned again, Nightwing.”

Dick sighed as the comms dropped. “With little brothers like him, who needs enemies?”

With a screech of tires, Dick’s bike pulled up right outside the alleyway, assumedly in response to the button he had pushed. Wordlessly, you climbed on behind him, the bike taking off towards the west end of town.

Following Alfred’s trace work, you arrived at a warehouse at least twice the size of the one Parasis had previously used. You didn’t see the car Kamila had been abducted into, or really any vehicles in the area, minus a rusty bicycle on its side in the patchy grass.

Dismounting from the bike, you approached the gate, staring ahead at the building just beyond it.

“You okay?” Dick asked, stopping beside you.

“Yeah, I… let’s just go in,” you replied, trying to keep your emotions at bay. You could freak out later, after Kamila and her mom were safe and Parasis was arrested.

“Hey,” you turned to look at Dick, his hand on your shoulder. “I’m here with you. Just keep fighting like you did back in that alleyway and we’ll be fine.”

But they had still taken Kamila, you wanted to say, but held yourself back. Dick was trying to bring up your morale, being nice like he always was, and so you just nodded, creating a ball of light to guide your way through the evening dark.

It was unsettlingly quiet, the only things you could hear as you approached being your combined footsteps in the solid dirt. Dick pushed the door open, heading fearlessly into the warehouse with you on his heels.

At first, it looked like an average warehouse, pallets of boxes stacked to one side, but the illusion of normalcy was shattered the moment you looked to the rest of the room.

You didn’t see Kamila, but you immediately spotted Parasis at the back of the room, Kamila’s mother right beside her in what looked to be a sadistic version of a dunk tank. Eliana was gagged and shackled to the back wall of the tank by metal bands around her limbs and neck above a tank of medicine-red liquid that was all-too-familiar to you.

Rushing towards them, you were stopped about halfway into the room by a harsh tug on your arm, Dick pulling you back to him. You looked back at him, confused and frustrated, but Parasis spoke up before you could ask why he had pulled your arm.

“You’re just in time,” she called out. “Are you ready to observe my final act? Come a little closer.”

“Drop the electric fence and we might,” Dick shot back.

At his words, you squinted at the area before you and found that you were just barely able to make out a grid of electric current running from ceiling to floor.

“Maybe I will,” she purred. “But not for you. Come to me, Lightspear. After all, you’re the only one who understands why this has to happen.”

What? She had barely told you anything in your previous interaction, so how were you supposed to know the reason behind what she was doing? Dick was the more experienced investigator of the two of you, so logically he was the one who would have a better chance of guessing her motives.

“Unfortunately, we come as a pair today,” Dick replied with a cocky grin. “Take it or leave it.”

“My invitation is extended only to Lightspear, bat freak,” she hissed. “But fortunately, I’ve got a different offer in mind for you.”

Behind Parasis, Kamila’s mother wailed against her gag, struggling in vain against her binds.

“Decide fast, Lightspear,” Parasis taunted. “Maybe I won’t be so generous in a minute or two. And don’t worry about Nightwing, he won’t be lonely for long.”

Hearing a fizzing noise, you turned back to see another of those smoking orbs sailing your way and were forced to dive one way while Dick dove in the other direction. As soon as you gained your bearings, you entrapped the orb in another box of light, trying to contain the smoke before it spread, but it had already provided the gang with the distraction they needed.

Men in similar gray outfits and masks ran out from behind the boxes, their numbers even greater than they had been back in the alleyway. You summoned a spear, preparing yourself for a fight, but were surprised when the men ran straight past you and right at Dick.

You were left momentarily stunned until Parasis spoke up again.

“Now that he’s busy, last chance, Lightspear,” she said, and you watched as a door-sized space opened up in the electrified lattice wall.

You looked frantically between her and Dick, who was busy fighting the group of men that surrounded him. “Nightwing!”

“Go!” he shouted back, kicking a man in the stomach before turning to block another man’s knife with one stick. “I’ll be fine, just go!”

You sent him one last reluctant look before walking forward through the electric wall to the other side of the warehouse, still unsure of what Parasis wanted with you specifically.

“Let her go,” you demanded. “Whatever this family has done to you, this is wrong.”

“Wrong?” Parasis echoed. “Not everyone lives in a perfect world, Lightspear, not that I would expect you to understand that.”

“Then what am I supposed to understand?” you shot back. “You really think killing an entire family will solve your problems?”

“No, but it’ll make me feel better,” she laughed. “Revenge isn’t about practicality. It’s about inflicting pain on others like they inflicted on you.”

“But what did they do to you?” you asked. “If you lost money, there are better ways of–”

“I’ve lost a lot,” she replied simply. “And here I thought you would realize why this is happening. You were the only one who knew even the smallest fraction of my pain.”

“I…” Your words dried up in your throat. What was she talking about?

Parasis let out a frustrated sigh, holding up a phone and pressing a few buttons. Immediately, the phone in your pocket began to vibrate.

Pulling your phone out, you saw Kamila’s name on the screen along with her contact photo, a selfie of you two at a birthday party, both of you grinning at the camera, wearing matching heart-shaped glasses over your eyes. You remembered that day, it had been not long before Kamila had moved in with her aunt.

But if Parasis was calling you from Kamila’s phone… your heart felt like it was about to stop. Did Parasis know who you really were?

“What have you done with Kamila?” you demanded, stepping closer.

“Nothing,” she dismissed. “Now answer the phone.”

Why was she doing this? You were aware from Dick’s insight that villains liked to be overdramatic, but you couldn’t see the point of this particular stunt. You were already talking to her, so what point was there to talk on the phone when you were fifteen feet apart?

Not wanting her to become angry and send Kamila’s mom into the liquid cherry, you complied, pressing the accept call button and raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello…?” you spoke uncomfortably into the phone.

“Hi,” Parasis said back, greeting you by name, the sound coming from your phone and right in front of you. You could only watch in horror as her mask plate retracted to reveal…

“…Kamila?”

It felt like time had frozen as you stared at the face of your oldest friend, a sadistic glint in her eyes that you had never seen before. Staring at her now, your limbs felt frozen. How could this be happening?

“You don’t wanna talk?” she asked with false sweetness in her voice. “You’ve been texting me non-stop lately. Fine. We’ll move onto the action then.”

She hung up the call, approaching her mother, whose muffled cries only got more frantic as her daughter approached. “I decided I would save mom for last.”

Your brain finally began to work again as you watched the scene before you. But if Kamila was Parasis…

“…then she killed her dad and Emile,” you mumbled to yourself before speaking to Kamila. “How could you turn into a killer?”

“A killer?” she replied, sounding bored. “Maybe for dad, but Emile… that was all on him. All I did was dangle the carrot, and that little junkie ate it up.”

Kamila had a small smile on her face, like she was telling you a funny story, her words making you feel sick with horror.

“But he... they…”

“They were nothing to me!” she snarled. “But it’s only fair, since I’ve always been nothing to them!”

“Kamila…”

“They sent me away,” she growled. “All so they would have more money and time to put into Emile. Emile, who couldn’t piss clean on a drug test if his life depended on it. I had to wear shoes until the soles burned out, had to use the same backpack since kindergarten, all so the poor little druggie could have everything he ever wanted.”

You had noticed some of that in your childhood, but had at the time chalked it up to Kamila’s parents maybe having money problems. She mostly came over to your house when you were younger, so you hadn’t been around her family much.

“They never wanted me, so they shipped me off to whoever would take me,” she said, briefly glancing at her mom, who was still trying to scream through her gag. “Did you know she’s only called me twice since she abandoned me? Once when Emile died, and then again with dad. And now you’re all alone, aren’t you, mom? As alone as I was all those years. And your husband and golden boy are in the ground feeding the worms. But don’t worry, you’ll be with them soon.”

“You don’t have to do this!” you appealed, looking from Kamila to her mother. This all felt like a bad dream, but you had to stop her. You could distantly hear Dick still fighting behind you, but forced yourself to keep your mind on the problem in front of you.

“Yes, I do,” Kamila retorted. “I guess I misunderstood you, or you would understand why this bitch has to die.”

You frowned at the villain before you that happened to have the same face as your best friend. There wasn’t a single thing you recognized in her hateful expression; the way she was right now, she felt like a stranger. You felt sad for her, going through all that she had, all while you were none the wiser, but this wasn’t the way to solve her problems. Though you had to admit it was clearly a little late for that approach, considering she had killed two out of three of her targets, not to mention the multitude of other drug users who had the misfortune to run across her supply of cherry.

“Kamila, I can’t let you kill your mother,” you said solemnly.

She regarded you as if you were an ant under her boot. “I really should’ve killed you last time then. I didn’t know it was you until after, but I won’t let you stop me. With how long we’ve known each other, I really thought you would be the only one to understand me.”

She reached one hand down, plucking a remote off of her belt and slowly stroking along the length of it with one finger as she turned her attention to her mother.

“We’re shorter on time than I thought, so we’ll have to skip the mother-daughter bonding sesh,” she sneered, glaring smugly at her incapacitated mother. “Say hi to dad and Emile for me when you’re rotting next to them.”

She raised her other hand, obviously intent on pressing the button that would release her mother’s restraints and send her into the cherry water to die. Dick wasn’t going to be able to save you this time, so you would have to put everything you had been taught into action, and fast.

Before she could press the button, the remote was knocked out of her hands by a bolt of light you sent at her. The sting of the bolt made her drop the remote, and you quickly impaled it into the ground, splitting the small remote in two.

“You–!” Kamila seethed, looking from the broken remote on the floor over to you, face twisted in anger. “You would choose my bitch of a mother over me? Nice to know for sure where your loyalties lie.”

Did she seriously think you were just going to let her kill her mom in front of you? She was so delusional that it wasn’t funny. Watching her now, you began to get the feeling that she didn’t really get who you were as much as she accused you of being the same way with her.

She glared your way before turning to approach the torturous dunk tank, the action letting you know that you weren’t quite done here. There was likely some sort of manual release on the machine, which was something you couldn’t allow her to use either.

Not bothering with a warning, you created a spear, throwing it at Kamila and forcing her to leap backwards to avoid being hit by it. Not giving her a moment to breathe, you continued to send spear after spear her way, giving her no choice but to back away from the tank as you advanced, placing yourself in between Kamila and her mother.

Holding a spear at your side, you approached Kamila, who looked not unlike a cornered animal. “Kamila, you need to stop this. I don’t want to hurt you. We can get you help, we–”

“Don’t preach at me!” she shrieked, furious. “Don’t fucking preach at me! I’ll kill you too if that’s what it takes!”

You were taken aback by her rabid anger, even more so when she charged straight at you like a raging bull. Luckily for you, she was sloppy in her anger, and you easily moved back to avoid the punch she threw at your face.

“Just die!” she screamed. “Fucking die and get out of my way!”

She was kicking and scratching at you like a wild animal, a kick to your side knocking you back, but not out. Looking back, you realized that you had allowed her to push you too close to her mother’s tank, something you could not allow if you wanted to keep her away from the manual release. That was one lesson of Dick’s that you clearly hadn’t mastered.

Using your minor distraction, Kamila leapt at you, shoving you harshly to the ground before dashing past you and towards the tank.

Side stinging, you scrambled to turn to face the tank, only to see that Kamila was nearly at the large lever on the side wall of the tank. You had only this moment to act before her mother drowned in the liquid cherry.

As Kamila reached the lever, hand outstretched to pull it down, you materialized a spear, sending it straight into the glass of the tank with a determined shout. As she pulled the lever down, you wrenched the spear across the tank, slicing a long horizontal cut through the glass. The cherry rushed from the tank, spilling and running across the floor. Kamila’s mother fell, hitting the floor of the tank, the cherry only up to her ankles as it continued to spill out.

Kamila let out an enraged scream, moving to run at her mother, but you got to her first, encircling her wrists in cuffs made of light.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed as you approached. “I’ll kill her! I need to kill her!”

“It’s a little late for that.” You turned to see Dick striding up to you and Kamila. “Your dunk tank of death looks more like a kiddie pool now.”

As Dick took over for you, grabbing Kamila by her arm, you heard the doors to the warehouse burst open, dozens of police officers filtering into the room. You watched as a few rescued Kamila’s mother from the tank, several others coming to take Kamila from Dick. You watched the scene, your boots sticky from the cherry underfoot, as Kamila was dragged away, screaming insults as she went.

“We took care of things over here,” Dick spoke into his comm. “The police have taken Parasis into custody and Eliana is safe."

“What about Kamila?” Bruce replied.

Dick looked to you, and you swallowed before answering. “Kamila is Parasis. She, uh…”

“Understood,” Bruce replied, not pressing you to force yourself to talk any more about it. “We were able to stop the contaminated water from being circulated.”

“We took out at least fifty gang members each,” Damian added. “They were way too easy. It was like they learned how to fight by watching martial arts videos for toddlers.”

“Is everything handled over there?” Bruce asked, his words belying his silent offer of assistance.

“Yeah,” Dick answered. “The police can take care of arresting all the Gray Dragons here, so we’ll take our leave before they get an itchy handcuff finger.”

“Right. Good work,” Bruce replied, and then the communications cut out.

The whole warehouse was a mess. The cherry had run halfway across the warehouse, police officers slipping and sliding as they pulled up and cuffed the gang members that lay scattered all over the floor. Clearly they had been no match for Dick, but that didn’t explain one thing.

“How did you get past the electric grid?” you asked as you both made your way out, leaving footprints in wet red as you walked out of the large puddles of cherry.

“The cherry short-circuited it when you broke the tank,” he replied. “That was smart. You saved the mother and caught Parasis without hurting her.”

“I just wish I felt better about it,” you said glumly. “I almost didn’t act in time.”

“But you did,” Dick insisted as you both climbed onto his bike. “I’ll take you home. Get some sleep and we can talk more tomorrow.”

Nodding, you held onto Dick as he started up the bike, still having a hard time believing your hectic night was finally at an end.

 The next evening found you on Dick’s couch, hugging a pillow to your chest as you watched the T.V. in horror.

”It was terrible, Bethany,” Eliana Parra spoke tearfully. “How could I have raised such a monster?”

“You said she had a perfect childhood?” Bethany probed gently.

“We were always the perfect family,” Eliana replied. “I think she got into drugs that messed up her brain. She was everything to us, to her brother, but she had a nasty jealous streak. Always has.”

“Such a sad story,” Bethany said with a shake of her head. “The Parra family has created a fundraiser for associated costs, which you can donate to at this website. This has been Bethany Snow of Channel 52.”

You sunk back into the couch with a scowl as it went to commercials.

“You okay?” Dick asked from the other end of the couch.

You let out a frustrated huff. “Am I supposed to feel good now that we saved the day? That we saved a woman like that?”

“Bad parent or not, you did the right thing,” he replied. “It’s not our role to judge who is and isn’t worthy of being saved. You saved a life yesterday, that’s something to be proud of.”

You sighed dispiritedly. “Does it ever get easier?”

“No,” he answered. “But all days aren’t the same. You just need to remember the days when you were able to make a difference… or you could just do what Damian does.”

“What Damian…?”

 Ten minutes later, you laughed as you executed a perfect combo, reducing Dick’s character’s health to zero.

“You know more martial arts than Jackie Chan, how are you so bad at this?” you asked teasingly.

“I don’t often have time for stuff like this,” he admitted. “I only knew how to set the system up because I’ve watched Damian do it before.”

“Clearly you didn’t watch him play then,” you said, unable to resist taking one more cheap shot at his incredibly poor video game performance. You had never played this particular game before, but you had still made incredibly quick work of the match, and the following two.

You giggled at his sulky demeanor, his pout turning into a smile and catching you off guard with the sudden intensity in his eyes that you were having a hard time deciphering. You were trying to think of what to say to dispel the odd feeling that had taken over the moment, but Dick was faster.

“I’ll happily take the defeat if that’s what it takes to get you smiling again,” he said with a smile of his own. “I’d even take you yelling at me again, although I hope I’ve proven myself to be trustworthy to you by now.”

“You nearly died just to protect me,” you said, glancing at the T.V. as the news came back on, a reporter covering a story on unusual weather on the other side of the country. “You helped me take on a fight that wasn’t your problem to begin with. How could I not trust you after all that?”

“You didn’t make it easy,” he replied playfully.

“Well you put a tracker on my phone, and stared my underwear and–”

You cut yourself off as you realized that his voice had sounded closer than before, looking over to see that he had moved over, now within arm’s reach of you on the couch.

“What was that last one?” he asked with mock innocence.

You huffed, feeling shy. You shouldn’t have mentioned the underwear thing. No matter how stained your pants were, you would never wear a skirt out on a mission ever again. Why had you even said that? Way to make things even more awkward...

You turned back to face Dick, only to find him even closer now. “Uh–”

“I’ve actually been wanting to do this for a while,” he murmured, eyes drifting down to your lips before looking back up into your eyes.

“Kiss me or get your ass beat in Swordwalkers?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“As it happens, both,” he answered cheekily. “If that’s still okay with you.”

“Ugh!” you groaned. As much as you liked his voice, you would really like to stop hearing it right about now. You had waited long enough, the confirmation enough as you snuck a hand around the back of his head, pulling his mouth down to yours at last.

Dick groaned into the kiss, maneuvering your body so he could press you into the couch as you kissed, his tongue making you feel dizzy. One of his hands took hold of your thigh, encouraging your leg around his hip so he could press his body closer to yours.

You wove a hand into his hair, tugging at it as he rutted his hips against yours. His body caging yours in as you kissed would normally have been great, but the arm of the couch was really starting to press uncomfortably into your upper back, so you pushed on Dick’s chest and he immediately leaned back.

“You have a bed in this place, right?” you asked. “Because I’m not sure if I like you enough to wake up tomorrow with a couch arm-shaped dent in my back.”

He laughed in reply, getting up off the couch. “Nice to know you’re committed. I wasn’t sure if you were still interested for a while there.”

You stood up, mouth dropping open as you stared at him incredulously. “Me? You’re the one that almost kissed me and then didn’t mention it again!”

“Oh, uh…” He looked embarrassed, but you found it endearing, getting the feeling that he wasn’t like this often. “I felt like maybe I was coming on too strong, and then everything got serious with Parasis and I thought maybe the moment had passed.”

“Is that still what you think?” you asked. “That the moment has passed?”

Dick stared at you, his eyes dark as a smirk took over his face. “Not anymore. All I can think about is how bad I wanna get my mouth between your legs.”

You froze up, shocked by the sudden dirty talk, which Dick happily took advantage of. Scooping your frozen body up into his arms, Dick walked the few steps across the room to a door, kicking it open and depositing you onto the bed inside the room.

You crawled backwards on the bed, backing up to the backboard but keeping your eyes on Dick, who stood at the foot of the bed. He still had that sexy smirk on his face as he stared down at you, pausing to impatiently tug his sweater off and toss it to the side before climbing onto the bed with you.

You had briefly seen him shirtless before, but you had been unable to get the full look that you were currently getting, not that your attention was on his body for long as he reached for your hips.

You were expecting another kiss, but were surprised when he instead began pulling the fabric of your leggings down your legs, his fingers hooking into your panties and pulling them off you as well. He got the clothing off so quickly that it was already tossed halfway across the room by the time you regained your senses.

You felt weird in just your shirt and bra, and had been half-ready to just take them both off as well when Dick grabbed your legs, pushing them apart and quickly taking up the resulting space himself, his mouth on you before you could blink.

Dick easily lifted your hips up, his tongue eagerly pressing against your clit, your eyes flinching closed at the sudden strike of pleasure that shot up your spine. Crying out, you tried your best to open your eyes, but the sight of Dick’s head between your legs combined with what you were currently feeling was too much as you fisted the bed sheets, needing something to hold onto.

“You can pull my hair, I don’t mind,” he spoke against your skin, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to smack him or kiss him.

Dick worked your clit gently with a thumb as he set his mouth to work again, only further emboldened by the noises you couldn’t stop making as he blew all of your previous sexual encounters out of the water with his mouth and fingers. You couldn’t find the words to tell him how close you were, but he seemed to understand anyways, intensifying his work on your core until your pleasure crested over, with one unintentional and embarrassing side effect.

As Dick pushed you over the edge, you let out a pleasured cry, and then the room became almost blindingly bright as every light in the room shot on at full intensity. Startled, it took you a moment to gather your wits, scrambling to sit up before hurriedly extinguishing the lights and staring down at the bed, too embarrassed to look Dick in the face.

“That, uh… that’s never happened before,” you mumbled, cringing at how much you sounded like a guy with erectile dysfunction. You were such an idiot; you had these powers for how long and still lost control because of something like this? That’s what every guy wants mid-sexual-encounter, to be blinded by hospital-level brightness.

“Good,” Dick spoke slowly against your ear, his chin leaning on your shoulder. “I’ve never made a girl cum so hard that she lost control of her powers.”

You jolted back against him in shock, turning back to look at him, only to feel his grin against your lips as he kissed you. You allowed him to maneuver your body back to facing him, pulling you up onto his lap as he sat back on the bed.

“So I didn’t ruin everything?” you joked, your hands on his shoulders.

You sat fully down on his lap, and he let out a pleasured exhale of breath as you brushed against the noticeable bulge in the front of his jeans. His hands came up to sit on your hips, keeping you against him as he shallowly rutted up into you.

“No,” he groaned in reply. “There’s not much you could do to turn me off right now.”

“Good,” you said, feeling more confident now that you could see that he was truly putty in your hands right now.

His eyes were on you as his hands crept up your hips to your sides, taking hold of your shirt and starting to slide the material up and over your head. You were about to reach back and unhook your bra, but Dick was faster, unhooking the clasp with two fingers. As the bra straps began to slide forward on your arms, you realized that you shouldn’t be too surprised; after all, you had just received a very thorough demonstration of just what he could do with his fingers.

You let the bra drop down, gently tossing it away as Dick’s hand, still on your back, pushed you forward, allowing him to lean down and get his mouth on one of your breasts. You enjoyed the feeling, but refused to let him distract you completely from returning the pleasure he had been giving you.

Reaching a hand down, you ran a thumb along the length of his cock, very hard under the rough fabric of his jeans. He groaned against your breast, pulling away from you and leaving you on the bed to get up and remove the last of his clothes.

You felt a rush of excitement as he unzipped his pants, carefully pulling them and his underwear down and off. As he stepped out of the clothing, you laid back on the bed, inviting him with your eyes, Dick eagerly climbing onto the bed with you in response.

“Fast or slow?” he asked teasingly, nudging your legs apart so he could bring them over his hips.

You let out a shaky breath as you looked from his cock up the length of his body, stopping at his blue eyes, which were currently fixating on your panting form. “Dick…”

“Fast it is, then. I’m too worked up to go slow now, but we can save that for another time.”

The prospect of another time made sparks pop in your chest, but you still had the rest of this time to get to. You watched with growing impatience as Dick fished a condom from the top drawer of his bedside table, rolling it easily onto himself before turning his attention back to you.

“Take it easy on the lights this time,” he grinned. “Not sure how I would explain that one to an electrici–”

With a huff, you used your legs around him to tug him forward, intent on making him shut up with your mouth. Dick caught himself before he fell on you, bracing himself with a palm against the bed by your head, but didn’t resist the kiss you pulled him into, moaning against your mouth.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, just long enough to line himself up with your pussy before surging forward, slowly at first, and then pushing fully inside you once he found no resistance from your body. Dick let out a groan as he bottomed out inside you, pausing for only a moment against your breast before his hips went into motion.

At first, his thrusts were shallow, the smaller movements still feeling good, considering he was definitely bigger than you had had before, the tip of his cock pressing just where you needed it. But as pent-up as you both were, slow wasn’t going to cut it, and you both knew it. Quickly, the gentle rocking of his hips got faster, your fingers grasping at his body as he isolated the spot inside you that made you squirm with almost tactile precision.

His piercing blue eyes stared down into yours, Dick leaning down for another long kiss as you did your best to move your body along with his own.

“I’m really close,” he groaned, his nose brushing yours, eyelashes fluttering over his pretty blue eyes. “You’re so…”

His words were lost to a moan as your nails bit into his back and he continued to hammer his cock against your g-spot until he reached his own end, his cock hitting against you one last time before he stilled, his thumb working against your clit as he sucked a bruise onto the side of your neck to push you over the edge again.

Once you had taken some time to come down from the moment, Dick pulled back, discarding the condom before laying back on the bed on his side, pulling your body into his.

You turned your head up to look at his face, but were forced to save your thoughts for a moment as he kissed you again, his hand moving to your hair to keep you close to him.

“So was this your way of welcoming me to Bludhaven?” you asked coyly.

“Did it work?” he asked with a grin. “It’s hard to come by good allies around here. The last time I thought I could trust someone here, I got sold out to a four-hundred-year-old drowned hipster.”

You looked dubiously at him, afraid to ask about said drowned hipster.

“Maybe I should take you to meet Guppy sometime,” he hummed thoughtfully. “He wasn’t the one that sold me out, but you don’t often see shark men with five o’clock shadow walking around. He’d probably like your company a lot more than mine during the prison’s visiting hours.”

You felt like you could really understand how Dorothy felt when she had said she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. You had never seen, nor heard of a talking, let alone poorly-shaven shark before, but it seemed that this was the kind of thing that lay ahead of you if you continued your descent into Dick’s world. But as you snuggled into his chest, letting your ear rest against his heartbeat, you found yourself looking forward to what your new life in Bludhaven would bring, even if it seemed like it would be joining Dick in visiting a scruffy shark man in prison.

#xreader #reader insert #nightwing #nightwing x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader

[honeypiehotchner]

winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love). 

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.  

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

#winter love #all i want for christmas is you #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x you #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner christmas fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch fanfic #hotch fanfiction #criminal minds christmas fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #merry christmas #!!! #<3 #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #small angst with a happy ending #angst with a happy ending #mostly tooth rotting fluff tbh

[tohruhondaismydaughter]

Just had some headcanons about Machi pop into my head that I wanted to share with yall. So we know this poor girl struggles with "perfect"/neat things right? Well I was thinking about some healthy coping mechanisms she could develop to replace the whole 'breaking property/living in a dump' thing & here's what I got so far -

1. She always tries to wear odd socks (unless she's invited somewhere nice)

2. Ayame & Mine help her find cool asymmetrical stuff to wear, how to make clashing colours/patterns work for her & teach her how to sew up her old clothes in a more "punk rock" way (after Yuki & Kakeru explain some of her issues with perfection)

3. Tohru gently points out that she dosn't have to tie her laces the same way on both shoes if she dosn't want to

4. Haru & Rin (awkwardly on her part) teach her the power of acessorising (ie. wearing only one earing, putting on an uneven amount of bracelets/rings/necklaces, adding paper clips of different sizes & colours to your clothing & Machi later ends up adding stuff like buttons to her outfits/belongings as well which Haru & Rin are tottally surppotive of despite thier difference in style) & hair/makeup which (thanks to Yuki's advice) they make sure to keep slightly messy (Kimi laughed at it at first until Momiji made her feel bad after he told her that Machi had gone to the bathroon & wiped off all the make up & undid the hair style so Kimi bought her some limited edition Mogeta merch, after asking for Yuki's advice, in apolgey & started referring to Machi's new hair/makeup style as "punk chic" whenever anyone tried to mock Machi about her new look)

5. her & Momiji go on a crazy tie dying adventure (much to Hatori's grumbling & Mayu's amusement)

6. Kormaki gets her into collecting second hand fridge magnets which she then later uses in her work (my version of post-serise Machi is an artist) once the magnetism finally wears off

7. Kagura teaches her how to fix up old plushies (Machi likes creating Mogeta inspired characters) & gives Machi all her old cat ones to work on (Machi descides not to ask why Yuki's cousin was seemingly once obssesd with orange cats because she looks rather embrassed & a little sad when she hands over her collection)

8. Kyo reluctantly teaches her how to cook a few simple dishes (Tohru comes over as well & Yuki insists her food is better but Machi prefers Kyo's simple style of presentation so it's eventually descided that Kyo & her will do the cooking & Tohru & Yuki will deal with the cleaning which Yuki agrees to becuse cleaning is still difficult for Machi but Kyo says it's actually because no matter how much Tohru tried to train him rat boy knows he would never be able to do anything in the kitchen but burn water)

9. Kakeru teaches her the skills of 'excessive badge & sticker decorating' as well as giving eachother fake tattoos (Kisa congratulates Hiro on not saying anything rude to Yuki's girlfriend about her appreance after they first meet her)

10. Cuts her hair short (she delibretly makes it very choppy) once she enters university, where the rules are less strict about your apprence (at least it is if your at art college), & she also regulary wears diffrent coloured wigs (her favourites being a dark red one & a rainbow one) whenever she wants to temporarily change her appearance (beacuse she didn't want to commit to just one look, still wanted to have the ability to quickly "become invisable" again & she heard from Kimi that exsseive hair die-ing could permantly destroy her hair & scalp) it takes her until she's 30 to try out shaving all her hair off (she worried she'd look sick/crazy or not feminine enough) & everyone's really surppotive (though Kimi dose cry a bit, Rin & Haru aren't there when her hair is being shaved & Kyo is a slightly confused as he'd always thought women liked having longer hair then guys) especially Ritsu (who's growing out thier hair again) & they all throw her a big party (Haru & Rin are there for the party bit just not the hair removal bit because it brought up some bad memories) where Kakeru films it & posts it (with Machi's permission) & they give her cut off hair to a charity chosen by all thier followers (despite her disbelief Machi has manged to gain a small group of loyal fans from all her art stuff & her apprences on her loved ones social media), Kakeru also later uploads a video where they help Machi rainbow dye her buzz cut, (she later explores many diffrent types of buzz cut patterns such as flowers & geometric shapes but, at Kimi's insistence, gets them done by a professional)

11. She recycles & D.Y.I's like crazy (Momiji started singing Do Re Mi from The Sound Of Music after she told him that her new dress was actually made from curtains & Yuki cried when she gave him a little rat plushie made from felt, after he came clean to her about the curse)

12. She almost never wears an apron while working on her art because she likes getting messy

13. When her & Yuki go out to eat she loves things like fondoe (both the chocolate & cheese kind), eat N mess & is genreually just a fan of finger food & it becomes a tradition between her & Yuki (& later Mutsuki) to go on a stroll through the park after thier meal & (if it's autumn) look for piles of leaves to jump in (Machi & Yuki also like playing a game where they try to look for the weirdest looking leaf to give eachother & whoever wins gets to pick what they'll eat for dinner that evening & the looser has to cook it, Mutsuki is the "impartial" judge)

14. Machi is amazing at scrapbooking & collarge making (Tohru is more of a dream journal kind of girl)

15. When it's Summer her, Yuki & Mutsuki go down to the beach to see who can find the weirdest looking rocks (the less impressive ones often get used in Machi's art work, the coolest ones Mutsuki gets to keep & any that are too perfect get tossed back in the ocean & Mutsuki likes to score the splashes they make on how big/loud they are)

16. She loves helping Yuki out with gardening for lots of reasons (it's therapeutic & she loves seeing Yuki happy) but she can't deny it's also just fun getting muddy

17. Machi, thanks to Kakeru, devolpes a love of paint ball (but instead of using guns they just throw the paint at eachother like in 10 Things I Hate About You because apparently the gun pellets actually hurt) & will bring it up as an activity idea to her loved ones any chanse she gets

18. Decorates as much of her flat (& later her home with Yuki & Mutsuki) with Mogeta merchandise, random things she collects & her own art work as a big fuck you to her bitch "you have 0 personality/hobbies or talents" of a mother

19. Kisa (happily) & Hiro (reluctantly) introduce Machi to the magic of glitter

20. Machi & Rin eventually become proper friends due to bonding over being abounded by their asshole parents & one of the things they like to do together is work on thier seprete art peices while listening to music (Machi dosn't do any of her "aggressive" art, like plate smashing, around Rin though thanks to Yuki & Haru warnings)

21. When stuff gets to be too much & none of thier other coping strategies are working (like watching Mogeta stoned- which Kisa, Tohru & Momiji do not partake in) Machi & Haru bond by going to rage rooms together to destroy shit & scream (Haru obviously dosn't want Rin around for any of that though so Momiji, Tohru, Kagura or Hana will often take the opportunity to hang out with her, one time Yuki offered & it wasn't bad but it was definitely awkward as they had never really hung out without Haru before & Haru teases her for ages afterwards about her ending up liking Yuki once she actually spent some time with him which, like the precious tsundere she is, Rin will forever deny)

22. (I actually made a whole seprete post about this ages ago but now it seems to have vanished so in case other Machi fans are unable to find it l'll add it here) on the days that it's supposed to snow but dosn't Yuki takes her (& later Mutsuki) skating so she can enjoy scratching up the perfectly smooth ice (they would have gone on double dates with Tohru & Kyo if Tohru wasn't freaked out at the idea of having blades on her shoes & Kyo hadn't claimed to "not trust" ice, he's dislike comes from all the times Kagura had forced him to ice skate with her on the lake near Kazuma's place in the winter when they were kids, so they would instead go with Haru & Momiji - they had thought about going with Haru x Rin & Kakeru x Kormaki once but he proudly revealed that he'd been banned from thier local ice rink years ago for trying "perfectly safe" Olympic level stunts in he's attempt to recreate one of he's favriote episodes of Power Rangers, much to he's fiancee's anger, & Machi reminded Yuki that though Haru & Kakeru were fine with eachother Rin isn't reall able to stand Kakeru for longer than 5 minuites)

#fruits basket #headcanons #machi #machi kuragi #machi headcanons #machi kuragi headcanons #fruits basket headcanons

[lawslessons]

A Healing Touch (Law x Reader)

“It just takes one touch, and then you’ll know in an instant that they’re the one for you. They’ll be the one that heals you...”

Hello, dears! I hope you all enjoy this! This is the letter N from the soulmate list, nursing! The premise is that a touch from your soulmate is enough to heal any ailment, any illness forever. Because of my school work load and some health issues, I may be publishing less just to take care of myself. Thank you for understanding. Love you all!

Modern! Au

Warnings: Terminal/Chronic illness, medical devices, mentions of death

Synopsis: It had been years since they had first found out they were sick. Another broken down van and another hospital trip for them to hear news they already knew before: Their illness was chronic and slowly becoming worse as time went on. But one faithful encounter with a certain doctor may be enough to change their path for the better. 

“How many years has it been since we found out you had this? Seven? Eight?” Nami asked with a small sigh as she sat with her friend on the small chair that was by the hospital bed. Her friend smiled and shook their head.

“Ten,” Ten softly said as they looked up at the ceiling as the IV in their skin slowly inserted the fluids into their system. Their eyes were somewhat dull and the bags had become more prominent from the lack of sleep these past couple of days and the serious lack of nutrition.

“The feeding tube doesn’t look comfortable,” Nami winced as she looked at the tube inside of her friend’s nose. They laughed and smiled at Nami with an affectionate smile on their face.

“You’re right, it isn’t. But I need this, I haven’t been able to keep food down in days,” they pointed out as they looked at the monitors that were next to them and saw all the vitals they were presenting. “I’m sick of being in these damn hospitals all the time though,” They said as they rubbed their face in some frustration. “I want to be able to go back and explore and have fun with you and the gang again. This is just ridiculous at this point, I’m holding you guys back,” They frowned. Nami frowned with them and moved to hold onto their hand and squeeze it.

“No, no you’re not. You can’t control your illness, no one blames you for that. Besides, maybe we can finally find a doctor here that can actually give more answers inside of just giving you fluids,” Nami sighed, the woman read the look on her friend’s face and saw that they weren’t as confident as she was in having answers so soon for this illness.

“Maybe, I’m not sure,” they sighed. “It’s getting harder each time I’m stuck here,” they said as they looked at their wrist with the numerous hospital bands on it. Nami watched the light beginning to fade from her friend’s eyes and it broke her heart just a little more.

“We can look for another — “ Nami was quickly cut off by a knock on the door and someone opening the door.

“Is this (Y/N)?” A gruff and tired voice asked as he started to look through his tablet. Part of his face was obscured by his blue mask, but they were able to see some tattoos on his hands as he typed some vital work on his tablet. “I’m the immunology specialist here, I’m here on a special consult for your case,” He said as he checked the fluids being given to them and typed some more.

“What’s your name?” Nami asked.

“Doctor Law,” The man said as he stepped back from the vital machines and looked over at Nami and her friend for a brief second. “Alright, I’m starting you on a new course of antibiotics and we’re going to take some blood samples to get some tests run,” he said as he looked up from his tablet. “Any questions?” It didn’t look like he wanted to ask that, it seemed as if he was forced to ask that out of obligation for his job. They knew that, so they knew better than to ask, but Nami didn’t seem to know that.

“How do you know that you need to start them on something new? You didn’t even do an exam,” she pointed out.

“I don’t need to,” The doctor shrugged, and they sighed at that.

“Nami, it’s alright. It’s not like he’s going to find anything new about my condition anyways,” they sighed. But the moment the words left their lips, they regretted it. Law visibly scowled and he looked away from the two who were in the room with him.

“Excuse me. I need to check on some other patients now,” he said before he went to leave the room a bit rigidly. They both watched as Law left the room and winced when the door was closed a bit roughly behind him. Silence ensued for a moment before Nami began to snicker and laugh.

“Why did you say that? I don’t think it’s a good idea to make your doctor mad,” Nami teased. They rolled their eyes and smiled at their friend.

“It’s whatever, he know’s I’m right. No doctor has been able to figure this out, what makes him think he’s so special?” They asked. Nami had to admit that what they were saying was true, she had even seen this play out in other cities and other hospitals throughout the country. They continued to talk for a few more hours before a nurse came in to inform Nami that it was time for her to leave.

“I’ll see you in the morning, alright?” Nami assured her friend as the nurses changed her friend’s medication and wrote some notes down for the doctor who as working on her friend’s case.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” they smiled before they started to drift off to sleep from the heavy doses of the new medication they were now on. They slept for a while until they heard something fall down in their room. They stirred in their sleep and tiredly rubbed their eyes to look up at who was in their room. Their eyes met gray ones and for a moment, the world was still between them.

“Sorry, I dropped my pen,” Law softly said as he picked up his tablet’s pen and pocketed it and looked down at the person who was staring at him. “I’m sorry that I woke you up,” he said as he awkwardly took a step back.

“Why are you here?” They asked.

“I’m checking your levels. You had low sugar and your pulse was low too,” Law explained as he looked at the monitor again. “Your levels are leveling out now, but I’m going to need you to stay here for a few more days for observation. I looked through your medical history and it would put me at ease if you stayed here,” Law said as he looked down at them again. They smirked and shook their head.

“Put you at ease?” They teased. Law scoffed and looked away.

“You know what I mean. I’m waiting on some of your tests results to come back, you know by now how slow the labs can be,” Law casually said as he looked at his tablet again. They were surprised, was he really trying to make conversation with them?

“I do know, I’ve been in and out of hospitals for ten years,” They shared. Law looked over at them and seemed to be giving them more of his attention so they could elaborate. “I was pretty young, like fourteen? Fifteen? I can’t remember, the years are blending together at this point. Anyways, I was just at school and suddenly I wasn’t. Suddenly I couldn’t stomach milk, gluten, anything. And then I felt like I was constantly on fire, I found out I was having an allergic reaction to the air freshener in my house. And when we went to the hospital, we found out that my organs were starting to shut down from how intense the reaction was. More than me being scared, my friends were terrified. My best friend Nami cried so much, we missed prom together with our other friends because of this,” They shared. And before they even knew it, Law pulled up a chair next to them and they spent the rest of the night talking, they honestly would’ve talked longer if it wasn’t for Law’s pager going off.

“I need to take this, I’ll see you later then,” He said before he had to stand up and leave. For the time they were talking to one another, they didn’t feel sick. But the second he was out of the room, their stomach started to turn and churn rather uncomfortably inside of them. They tried to get as much rest as they could before Nami and the rest of the crew came in with masks on.

“Hello! Did you sleep well?” Nami asked as she sat down next to her friend.

“Well — “ “Oi, there was someone weird standing by the door,” Luffy said as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and Zoro pointed at the door.

“Was he tall? Dark hair and with tattoos?” They asked, this emphasis on details didn’t seem to slip by Nami or Robin for that matter.

“Yeah, he was,” Usopp said while they felt their face grow a little more flushed.

“Why don’t you guys go see what’s in the cafeteria while me and Robin talk to them?” Nami suggested. And before anyone could protest, Luffy began to laugh and grab his friend’s by their hands and drag them out of the room to check out the hospital food. “Ok, so what happened after I left? I missed a lot,” Nami pouted while Robin chuckled next to her.

“I didn’t sleep that much last night,” they began before explaining with an embarrassed smile what they and Law had talked about in the night. By the end, Nami had a big smile plastered across her face.

“You like your doctor, don’t you?” Nami teased.

“Hush! No I don’t. I haven’t even known him that long,” they defended.

“I don’t believe that is a good criteria to measure it by,” Robin said with a small smile. Nami nodded in agreement before she pointed an accusatory finger at her friend.

“You’re avoiding the truth because you’re scared! You like him, and that’s ok to admit,” Nami tried to assure them. They looked a little hesitant, they brought their legs up to their chest and sighed.

“I am scared, I will admit that. I’m scared because I haven’t liked someone since I’ve gotten sick and I’m worried about what may happen if I were to one day… you know…” The trio went silent at that and all of their minds began to spin.

“Maybe that won’t happen,” Robin hopefully said, being hopeful like this wasn’t like her, so Nami knew that her friend had more to explain. “There’s this phenomenon where soulmates are able to cure each other of their ailments when they’re finally together,” she explained. Their jaw dropped and they quickly looked away.

“First you say I like him and now you’re saying soulmates? Isn’t that a bit much?” They softly asked. “I mean, I don’t think that’s possible, things like that happen in fairytales to royals, and I am not a royal. I am a regular person who is sick and dying,” a wave of sadness dropped over all of them at their words.

“Dying…?” Nami found herself asking her dear friend. They looked up at the ceiling and sighed softly.

“I’m tired of fighting,” They admitted. They heard the gasp of shock from Nami and could feel the frown from Robin, but that didn’t deter them. “There’s no point if there isn’t a cure. Every time I’m forced to be in a hospital, I get better for a few weeks and then I’m back and I’m worse than before,” their hands grabbed at the blankets as tears began to well into their eye’s. “I’m so tired of all this pain, it never ends…”

A few hours later, Nami and the rest of the group left when a nurse scolded them all for being too loud. When their friends were gone, they found themselves stuck in their own thought again. With their knees at their chest, a flood of negative emotions dropped over them and threatened to drown them before a voice seemed to pull them out of the water.

“I got your lab tests back,” He said as he closed the door behind himself and moved to be standing at the edge of his bed. “As you probably expect, the results aren’t good,” They scoffed at that and turned away from him. Why did he have to be so blunt? Couldn’t he read the situation. “But, I can do something about then,” Law shared as he tried to get them to look at him. He sighed and moved back to be a safe distance away before he pulled his mask down. When they saw his full face, their face went a soft shade of pink. Of course he had to be even more attractive, how was this even possible? “Are you listening to me?“ Law scowled, they quickly snapped out of their little day dream and nodded their head.

“Yes.”

“Anyways,” he sighed in some annoyance. “I need you to trust me,” He then said.

“Why? I don’t even know you that well,” They pointed out. Even though they talked all night, that wasn’t near enough time to get to know who he really was.

“You don’t know me? So what? I need you to trust in my medical skills,” Law sounded a little disappointed but they didn’t seem to care as much. After their talk with Robin and Nami earlier, their mind had been in one spot the entire night.

“And what if I refuse to go through with your treatment?” They asked.

“Your prognosis isn’t good,” Law looked dumbfound that they were even considering refusing his treatment, his advice. “I can only promise you weeks. Maybe a month.” They went quiet at that. The sobering thought of dying from their illness hit them. They didn’t even realize that it had gotten this bad until now.

“A month is all I need,” They finally said as they looked up at Law with a serious and content expression on their face.

“What?” Law asked in a small whisper. Were they being serious? A month? Was that all they really wanted?

“What is living if I’m stuck living in a hospital for another ten years? I would rather live one more month on the road with my friends. Our van is almost fixed, soon we can hit the road again. When it’s done, I want to leave here and live out the rest of my life,” They stated. Law looked absolutely appalled by what they were saying, while he never got involved with patient matters, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to them.

“No.” Law stated. His hands balled into fists and he glared down at the person in front of him. “You didn’t even listen to what I had to say, do you want to die that badly? Why?” Law asked. They didn’t seem to deny that, they knew that they were rejected Law’s suggestion without even listening to him.

“Do you think this is living? Laying down in a hospital bed? Not being able to eat? Crying constantly because of the pain? This isn’t living, this is hell. I’m in hell, Law,” They bluntly stated. “I just want to see heaven even if it’s only for a month, I’d give anything for that,” They admitted with tears freely flowing from their cheeks at this point. That caught Law off guard, he wasn’t expecting there to be tears. He never knew how to handle people who were crying.

“You’re right, that isn’t living,” Law agreed, “But I said I could help you, I just need you to trust me,” Law said as he put his mask on again and moved closer to them. “Do you think you can grow to trust me?” Law asked as he looked down at the patient in their bed. They looked up at Law and felt more tears burst out of them, they were overwhelmed with all the information they were given in one night.

“I’ll try,” They mumbled through their tears. Law sighed in relief and moved to stand back by the door again. If anything, they were only going through this just for Law and to appease him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Law said before he left.

The next day, the rigid treatment began. It involved Law personally giving injections to them along with fluids and more medications. He spent most of his time in their room over the next few days, and he even had to admit that he had grown attached to them the more time he spent around them. This was bad, wasn’t it? Even the nurses were talking about it.

“Doctor Law is going in there again.”

“I heard he was only here for a consult, but now he’s staying! Why is that?”

“Do you think he likes them?”

Law did his best to ignore all the words from his coworkers, but the more they spoke, the more Law reflected on his actions and the more he realized he was falling for them. Shit.

Days turned into weeks and soon they were two weeks into the process and they seemed to be doing much better than they previously were doing. And Law was too. In the nights, he would grab himself a coffee and go off to the room where they always were in and talked to them about his day at work and would hear about the shenanigans that were happening with their friends. He learned about their whole crew, Luffy was the head of their adventure and then there was Zoro, Sanji and so many others that sounded interesting. They even had a medical student traveling with them named Chopper, it sounded so fascinating to him.

“So, what’s the prognosis now? Think I’ll be better soon?” They asked Law with a hopeful look on their face. Law felt his chest tighten as they began to smile at the poor doctor.

“You should be better soon, you’re doing really good with your blood work and soon we’ll be able to give you real food,” Law explained. “What would you want to eat first?” Law found himself asking before a long conversation began between the two of them. His heart felt so, so warm, he could feel it beating even behind his eyes when he looked at them.

“Law?” They asked, “Is something wrong?” God, stop looking at me like that, Law pleaded in his head with no avail.

“No, no, you’re all good,” he assured them.

While they were at first making some progress health wise, the results that came in today were worrying Law.

“How are they that low? Why is their body rejecting the medicine now?” Law asked himself as he looked over the scans. This continued on for another three days. More tests, more worrying results and more worrying signs from them. Slurred speech, low energy, it was getting harder for them to breathe too and it was terrifying Law. Their friends were even more worried.

“Tra-guy, what’s happening?” Luffy asked with a small frown, he looked ta his friend through the window that was there and then at the taller doctor.

“I…I don’t know,” Law finally admitted. “I don’t know.” He felt like a massive failure, after all he made a promise to them to make them better. “You guys should go home now, it’s getting late. I’ll call you if I have any updates,” Law said as he looked into the window and sighed. He knew it was a mistake to get this attached to them. He knew it was farther than just being attached, he had fallen for them. Hard. It was late in the night when alarms started to blare near his area.

“Code Blue!” A nurse shouted as she stared to run with a crash cart to an all too familiar room. Law felt his heart drop while he was running, he slowed down and stopped in front of the room.

“Doctor Law! We need your help!” Another nurse shouted as she grabbed his hand and dragged the stunned doctor into the room. Law felt like he was having an out of body experience none of this felt real to him.

“Give me the paddles, now!” Law shouted as he was handed the paddles and quickly got them activated. He placed them on their chest and took in a deep breath, “Clear!” Their chest rose with the shock but their heart was still stagnant. “Charge to one-fifty!” He ordered as he looked at their tired face, God he couldn’t lose them. He couldn’t. “Clear!” Another shock, and then another and another. Soon he had to be pulled back by the nurses to stop with the paddles. “No, no no!” Law shouted as he looked down at them, the person he fell for. The nurses started to clear the room and soon Law was left alone with them.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Law whispered out as he looked them over, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I love you…” He finally said through his tears. His hand went to their cold cheek and he gently caressed the smooth skin. The second his skin touched theirs for the first time, sparks shot through him. Under his fingers, their skin began to warm up and soon their heart began to beat once again. Law pulled back in shock as they seemingly come back to life.

“Y-you’re alive?” Law said in disbelief as he watched them gasp for air and cough.

“What happened...?” They asked, Law laughed and quickly moved to hug them close to his chest on the bed as tears continued to stream down his cheeks like a pitiful river.

“I thought I lost you,” Law said as he finally pulled back and gained his composure back. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” they tiredly teased.

“I don’t want to,” Law said after a minute, they both looked into each other’s eyes and felt the sparks once again.

“I don’t want to either,” They admitted as they leaned in and rested their forehead against Law’s. Law softly smiled and gently ran his fingers through their hair. Law looked into their eyes and slowly leaned in to kiss them. Their lips connecting together felt so natural and raw and law began to feel his heart speed up even after he had broken their kiss.

“I need to run some tests now,” Law said as he gently cupped their cheek in his hand and smiled. “I’ll be back soon, I need to tell the nurses,” He said as he pressed a small kiss on their temple and moved to get some more of the tests run.

“What do you mean they’re cured?” Nami asked in disbelief as she looked at their friend who was standing, walking and acting carefree.

“We don’t know how it happened, but they’re all better now,” One of the doctors said in some disbelief.

“All thanks to Law,” They chuckled as they moved to stand by Nami and smiled.

“Oh! Speaking of him, aren’t you going to grab him so he can come with us?” Nami asked while Luffy nodded his head.

“Yeah! I want Tra-guy to come with us,” Luffy pouted. They laughed at that and smiled, for the first time in weeks, months, they were feeling better. And this was a different kind of better, a cured sort of better. They went over to one of the nurses and smiled at them.

“Is Doctor Law here?” They asked, the nurse looked at them with a bit of an uneasy expression on their face.

“Him? Oh, he left early this morning, I think he has to return back to his other hospital,” the nurse explained. They stood there with a shocked and hurt look on their face. He left? Why did he leave? Why would he want to leave? They silently nodded their head and moved to go back to their friends, but they did their best to smile. Did Law lie to them? Was he just messing with them this entire time?

“He left, but it’s ok. I think it’s time for us to leave too,” They said as they started to lead the way out of the hospital. The group of friends all looked at one another with an unsure look on their face, but they knew better than to question them about it. When they went outside, Franky stood by their nice van with a big smile on his face.

“All ready to hit the road again?” Franky asked, the group all did their best to smile with him. The group of friends looked at their now healed friend and watched as they did their best to smile/

“Yes, I think — “ They were cut off when a tan, warm hand was placed on their shoulder.

“You going to leave without me?” Law whispered to them. They quickly turned over their shoulder and looked at him in shock.

“Law! You’re here! I thought you left,” They said as he pulled Law into a heartfelt hug. Law awkwardly smiled and rubbed their back before he pulled away and gently ruffled their hair.

“I did leave, I left the hospital, I’m taking a small break for now, I need to make sure that you’re doing alright and that nothing will happen to you,” Law explained as a small blush appeared on his cheeks. He moved to used his fuzzy hat to try and hide it, but they stopped him by placing a hand on his cheek. They smiled and gently moved to press a small kiss on his cheek that left the man breathless.

“Come with us, Law,” They said before they looked back at the rest of the group, everyone behind them smiled and seemed to be on board with this idea. Law looked at them all and watched as they all came forward and tried to bring him in closer.

“Yes! A new friend!” Luffy cheered.

“Welcome to our team, Tra-guy,” Sanji smiled as he stubbed out his cigarette on the concrete. They held onto both of Law’s hands and squeezed them with this new found confidence and strength. It was all thanks to Law, they both looked into each other’s eyes and smiled at one another and knew this was the beginning of something special, a new life together. Not only that, but their crew as well, them being so accepting and warm to him made his heart clench in an amazing way, he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he could be this happy.

“Thanks,” Law smiled as he squeezed their hand, he could get used to these guys. Anything for them.

#one piece #one piece writing #one piece x reader #one shot #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law #one piece fandom #one piece fanfiction #soulmate #soulmate au #modern au #one piece luffy #one piece zoro #one piece usopp #one piece chopper #one piece franky #nico robin #taking requests #request #requests open #law pirates #one piece trafalgar law #op fanfic #op soulmate #op request

[specialagentsergio]

all we can do is keep breathing || chapter two

summary: Spencer’s doing better, but recovery isn’t linear, and some scars run deeper than either of you knew.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: angst (eventual happy ending)

content warnings: swearing, drug abuse & addiction, substance use disorder, ptsd, descriptions of panic attacks/ptsd episodes, recollection of past bullying, unhealthy coping mechanisms, yelling/fighting, negative feelings towards other team members, body image issues

a/n: i was so taken aback by the response to chapter one--i didn’t think anyone would even read it tbh. thank you all and thanks for being patient with my lack of an upload schedule. i'm so sorry the word count is massive again. you get tummy appreciation, though, because 1) we all love spencer’s tummy, and 2) i personally gained weight when i was in residential treatment and it can be a bit of a mindfuck lol.

a/n 2: repeated disclaimer that i'm not a doctor, psychologist, psychiatrist, etc., just a direct care staff, past rtc patient and trauma recovery enthusiast. the horse therapy is pretty much entirely based on my own personal experience from nearly a decade ago, so don’t expect it to be an accurate portrayal of equine-assisted psychotherapy.

word count: 7.3k

song: you will be found from dear evan hansen

fic masterlist || masterlist

He’s been looking forward to the start of equine therapy since he got a spot in the program. But instead of being excited the morning of, Spencer ends up crying for an hour straight.

The day started off fine. It wasn’t hard to get up with the horses to look forward to, and he was able to get an extra plate at breakfast, so he could keep the pancake syrup from touching the eggs and sausage. Art therapy was a few hours later. He’d started to actually enjoy the pottery project—the recreational therapist had brought him a box of disposable gloves to use so the feeling of drying clay on his hands was no longer a problem.

Everyone’s projects were coming out of the kiln today and the next step was painting them. He’d been planning out the design and colors he wanted to use since the project started and was excited to finally start applying it.

Then he dropped his item, it broke into pieces, and he burst into tears.

He’d fled the room on instinct alone and curled up in a corner of the hallway, pressing his knees to his forehead. He was upset about the pottery, and upset that he was so affected by it breaking. He felt stupid and silly for crying over it, which only made him cry harder.

He heard distant laughter and he clapped his hands over his ears. He was being laughed at again for being a crybaby. He didn’t want to be a crybaby. He wanted to stop crying, he just couldn’t. The goalpost was cold against the bare skin of his back, and his wrists were starting to burn from the ties.

I want to go home. Just let me go home, please, I’ll do anything. Let me go, let me go--

“Spencer, it’s okay. You’re safe here. Can you repeat after me? I’m safe here.”

Safe here. Safe here.

Art therapy was over by the time he came out of it.

He has lunch at his therapist’s office instead of with the group. Lara asks what his flashback had been to.

He picks at his food. “It happened a long time ago. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright. Can you tell me how it felt instead?”

Spencer isn’t really hungry, but bites into his sandwich to stall for time. She doesn’t rush him. Eventually, he asks, “Do you know what alexithymia means?”

“No words for feelings,” she replies.

He nods. “That’s all.”

Lara opens one of her desk drawers and pulls out a composition notebook, which she then hands to him.

“What’s this for?”

“I want you to start trying to notice your feelings and sensations throughout the day. Make some kind of note, even if you don’t exactly have the words to describe it.”

He sighs. “Why?”

“Just noticing what you feel can help you develop emotional regulation,” she explains. She’s always been honest with him about the why of what she wants him to try and do. “It’s going to help you stop ignoring what’s going on inside you.”

I don’t want to do that.

“I know you don’t.”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he blurts. “That either. I—god.” He quickly takes another bite of food before he can say more.

“It’s fine. I didn’t expect you to like it,” Lara says with a small smile. “I’m sure the thought of confronting what you’ve been suppressing and avoiding is scary. But getting better requires you to do a lot of scary things.”

Spencer wants to protest. Being strapped to a chair in a shed and dosed against your will is scary. Your mother being diagnosed with Alzheimer's is scary. Being sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit is scary. Feeling things? That’s not scary.

Isn’t it?

He tries not to think on it too much.

Despite the unpleasant thoughts running through his mind, Spencer finds himself nodding off on the van ride to the horse ranch. His eyes unfocus, his blink rate slows… and then he jerks back awake at the sensation of his head falling forward.

A frustrated noise escapes the back of his throat. He’s sick of feeling tired all the time. He’s getting enough sleep in theory, but still finds himself drowsy at least once a day. It’s to the point that he’s regularly wearing his glasses instead of his contacts to keep his eyes from feeling quite so dry. He pushes them back up now as he tries to tune back in to his surroundings.

“… don’t get how seeing some horse is supposed to make me feel better.” That’s Aiden’s voice. He’s Spencer’s new roommate. He wasn’t happy when he found out he was getting a new one, having much preferred having the room to himself, but it’s been okay so far, mostly because they keep out of each other’s way. Aiden seems uninterested in making friends, and that suits Spencer just fine. Lara’s been encouraging him to talk to fellow patients instead of just the direct care staff, but he’s resisted it. The last time he befriended someone, they ended up--

Spencer’s fine with the two of them keeping to themselves.

Melanie, one of the staff accompanying them, is leaned over the back of the middle seat as she talks to Aiden. “Well, I couldn’t tell you why exactly, but I’ve seen this program help a lot of people in my time here,” she says. “Spencer?”

“What?”

“You’ve been reading a lot about horses, right?” At his nod, she continues, “What have you found out?”

“Equine-assisted psychotherapy lacks the rigorous scientific evidence to demonstrate if it provides benefits in mental health treatment. Horses have been used to aid in psychiatric treatment since the 1990’s, though,” he says. He intends to stop there, but can’t stop himself from continuing. “It doesn’t necessarily involve riding, but may include grooming, feeding, and ground exercises. The goal is to help the client in social, emotional, cognitive, and or behavioral ways.”

He can feel Aiden’s eyes on him and takes a breath before meeting them. He knows all too well that his infodumps aren’t always well received. He doesn’t want to be friends, but would prefer for his roommate to not view him with disdain or annoyance. But Aiden looks interested, and says as much--”that’s interesting.” He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t, and there’s silence between them for the remainder of the drive. It’s not uncomfortable, though.

When the van pulls into a parking spot and everyone starts to get out, Spencer begins to feel nervous. He’s read everything he could get his hands on, but as a relatively new therapy, there’s no standard program; it varies by facility, so he doesn’t know exactly what to expect. He’s been looking forward to this, but what if it turns out to be a bad fit for him? What if the people here don’t like him? What if the horses don’t like him?

He hangs at the back of their group of ten—six patients and two staff—as they’re led to a shaded area. They’re introduced to the program director and assistants, and are given an overview of what they’ll be doing over the next six weeks. They won’t be riding the horses, just doing groundwork (he’s not sure if he feels relieved or disappointed). Then he learns that intention of this specific program isn’t just for the horses to help the clients—the clients are to help the horses as well. The animals all have the gentle temperaments suited for therapy, but also have their own struggles. A lot of them were adopted out of poor situations.

They’re led to a circular corral next and spaced equidistantly around the edge. Spencer’s heart rate picks up as the horses are brought in—the animals will be picking their therapy partner, the director says. As they’re let off their leads a jolt of anxiety runs through his body, making him twitch slightly. This feels uncomfortably familiar to school P.E. when teams were picked. No one wanted him then. What’s gong to happen if none of the horses want him, either? He looks down at his shoes.

But just a few moments later, he hears his name, and looks up to see one of the horses approaching him. “Looks like you and Chance are our first pair,” the director is saying.

First?

Chance is almost entirely black, save for a spot of white between his eyes and above his nose. His size is a little intimidating, but his demeanor is gentle. One of the assistants comes up to Spencer and instructs him to hold out his hand so the horse can sniff it.

His hand trembles slightly as he lifts it. Warm breath hits his fingers as Chance sniffs at it. Then the horse presses his nose completely against his hand. The moistness would usually bother Spencer, but for some reason it doesn’t. Instead, a smile slowly spreads across his face. The assistant tells him he can pet Chance now. He runs his hand up and down the horse’s snout, and despite the slight coarseness of the hair, finds it soothing.

The horse shuffles closer when Spencer is given his lead to hold. A startled laugh escapes him when Chance presses his nose into his neck. He pats his head a few times, then takes a tiny step back. He’s thrilled that at least one of the horses likes him, but feels a little crowded by the large animal. To his surprise, Chance seems to understand, and takes a step back of his own.

He absently pats his horse as he watches the rest of the group pair up. He still can’t believe he was picked first.

The rest of their time with the horses is very simple. They’re taught how to lead them, and after practicing in the corral, they take the horses back to their paddocks. Spencer’s disappointed to say goodbye already, but understands the need to not overwhelm the horses or even themselves. “I’ll see you next week,” he finds himself whispering to Chance.

There’s ten minutes left in the session, and it’s spent with the director telling them more about each horses’ specific background. Chance was poorly treated by his previous owner, mostly kept locked up in a small barn and not properly cared for. He has many talents and abilities, the director says. He needs to learn that he didn’t deserve to be treated the way he was, and be told that he is brave.

Spencer rests his chin in his hand and stares out the window on the drive back to the treatment center. He knows from his reading that horses are emotionally intelligent creatures, but he’s still… well, amazed by how the horses all picked who was most similar to them out of the group instinctively.

He feels more understood by an animal he’s interacted with for twenty minutes than he has by a person for months.

Before bed that night, he chews on the stem of his pen cap, thinking over the events of his day. Slowly, in a manner that could almost be described as cautious, he picks up the empty composition book Lara gave him and opens it. His hand hovers over the blank page for a few moments, then he puts pen on paper and begins to write.

---

You made dinner reservations for his visit this Saturday. You’re getting ready for it when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Spencer calls from the living room.

You return to fixing your hair up. You’re not expecting anyone, so it’s probably just a package or a neighbor. But just a few moments later, you hear Spencer raise his voice.

“No! No, I don’t—don’t touch me, please.”

You’re only half dressed, but hurry out to the living room anyways. When you round the corner, you immediately see what the problem is: JJ has dropped by unexpectedly.

It’s not that Spencer doesn’t want to see his team. They just bring memories with them, and he had decided shortly after his birthday that he wasn’t ready to confront that yet.

He’s standing a little ways back from the door, staring at JJ while she looks back with hurt on her face. “Spence--” she starts before she sees you.

At Spencer’s side, you place a hand on his arm and he takes a step behind you. “JJ, what are you doing here?”

She struggles to keep her eyes off of him as she answers. “(Y/N), I’m sorry, I just—Will and I made cookies with the boys today and we had a lot of extra, so I just wanted to drop some off for you. I—I didn’t know Spence was here. I didn’t mean to--”

You hold up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, JJ. You couldn’t have known. You were just trying to do something nice.”

She nods, relieved at your understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I….” She blows out a breath, then holds out a plastic wrapped plate of cookies to you. You take it from her with a quiet thank you. Then she looks back to the man that’s essentially hiding behind you as best as he can, despite how tall he is. “Spence, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t want me to touch you.”

There’s a tug on your clothing as he curls his fingers into the fabric on the small of your back. You tilt your head to look at him, but his gaze is on the floor. “You…” he glances up once, then looks back down. “You should ask next time,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” she replies, just as softly. “I will.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheeks to hold back a smile. Spencer often struggles to advocate for his needs, especially with his friends and colleagues, in fear of being a burden or more of a nuisance than he thinks others already perceive him as. He did it a lot with you when you first started dating. It took a lot of time and reassurance that yes, you really did want to know his wants and needs, for him to open up. Telling JJ to ask before touching him may seem small from the outside, but it’s a big deal for him.

After a rather awkward silence, JJ speaks again. “Well, um, I should get going. Just… let us know if you need anything, okay, Spence? We—the team, we’re all here for you.”

“That’s rich,” Spencer mutters behind you and you freeze. You recognize that edge to his voice. It’s usually accompanied by sharp words and remarks that he’ll regret later.

Please please please tell me JJ didn’t hear that.

“I’m sorry?”

Fuck.

“I hate to rush you out, JJ, but we have dinner reservations, so--” you try to interject but Spencer speaks over you.

“I’m just saying, why should I believe you’re here for me when you weren’t last time?”

JJ’s eyebrows come together. “I… don’t understand, I’ve always--”

“No, you haven’t!” It’s like Spencer can’t get the words out fast enough, the way he keeps interrupting before either of you can finish a sentence. This is clearly something that’s been weighing on him. You just wish he was unloading it onto his therapist rather than poor JJ, his best friend outside of you, who’s just trying to be nice. “Ten years ago I was shooting up in police station bathrooms and Emily is the only one who said a damn thing.”

His grip on your clothes tightens, forcing you to take a step back. You move the plate of cookies to one hand and reach back with the other, circling it around his wrist. “Spencer.”

Realization dawns on JJ’s face and she crosses her arms. “Spence, I couldn’t--”

“You couldn’t.” The little laugh he lets out derisive. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

You don’t know where all this is coming from or what he’s referring to, but JJ does, her expression hardening.

“You know what would have happened if the higher ups found out,” she says. “I was protecting your job. We all were.”

“You shouldn’t have!” he cries, emotions other than anger seeping into the words. “This damn job is one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me! I got anthrax poisoning, I still have issues with my knee from being shot. I nearly died from a shot in the neck, and let’s not forget, I was framed for murder by a psychopath I arrested, who then kidnapped my mother while I was in prison! Oh, and what else? Oh right, this job is the reason I’m a fucking addict in the first place!”

JJ’s clearly trying to hold back tears now, but one slips out and your heart aches for her. You close your eyes briefly and take a deep breath, then speak quietly but firmly. “Spencer, you need to leave the room.”

You can hear him breathing shakily behind you. “(Y/N)--”

“Now.” You squeeze his wrist and he finally lets go of your clothing. He takes a few steps away, stops, turns back and opens his mouth to say something, but at the look you give him, shuts it and continues on his way out.

A sniffle draws your attention back to JJ, who’s looking up at the ceiling and swiping at the tears sliding down. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t have come by without giving you a heads-up. I’ve just made things worse.”

“No, JJ, don’t be sorry. It--” There’s thumping noises from further back in the apartment so you step forward and shut the front door behind you. She has her arms wrapped around herself when you turn back.

“It’s not your fault,” you continue. “You were just trying to be nice. You’re a good friend to him. He’s just… everything is really raw for him right now, if that makes sense?”

She nods, wiping at her eyes again.

“It’s, uh, not an excuse, though,” you clarify. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. You didn’t do anything wrong. That was all him, so please don’t blame yourself.”

JJ is quiet for a bit, staring at the floor. Then she says, “I should get going.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” you agree quietly. Realizing you’re still holding the plate of cookies in one hand, you lift it slightly and add, “Thanks for these. And, um… I’m so sorry about that.”

She shakes her head and glances at the door. “Don’t be. Like you said, it was all him,” she murmurs.

You know she’s right, but you’re still barely able to stop yourself from apologizing again as she descends the stairs. You can’t help but feel like you should have done more, stopped him somehow, even though you don’t know how you could have. The way his behavior changed… it was like he wanted to get it all out, and when Spencer Reid wants to say something, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stop.

The apartment isn’t quiet when you walk back in. There’s the scraping and clatter of a desk drawer, followed by frantic footsteps and the thud of books falling off the shelves. You know what he’s doing, and you know he won’t find anything, so you just lock the front door and continue on to the kitchen to put the cookies away.

You lean on the counter and cover your face with your hands. It doesn’t matter if you mess up your hair or face, or anything, really, because you’re not making it to dinner anymore.

You stay like that for a while, eyes closed, trying to think of a place to even start with Spencer after all of that. When the sounds of him tearing through the apartment stop, you lift you head back up and promptly jump—he’s staring at you from the nearest doorway.

“Jesus, Spencer--”

“Where’s my stuff?” he asks, and the seriousness in his tone of voice makes your anxiety spike. You know exactly what he means by stuff.

“It’s gone. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“Yeah, but it’s…” he trails off and his expression puzzles you. It almost looks like he’s confused. “It’s all gone.”

Ah. “Yeah, well, I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re very much the opposite when you’re not sober,” you reply. “Finding your hiding spots wasn’t hard.”

He drops his gaze to the floor, frowning. “I don’t like it when you move my things,” he says quietly.

“I don’t like it when you use,” you counter.

He visibly flinches, then his hand tightens on the door frame. “I’m not going to—to take it, I just want to hold it. Where’s my stuff?” he repeats.

“Holding it, right,” you sigh.

“It’s comforting,” he argues.

“Even if I believed that, it wouldn’t matter, Spencer. I threw it all out. There’s none here.”

The humming noise he makes is angry, and he rocks back and forth on his feet in an agitated manner. “You shouldn’t… I don’t….”

I don’t have the energy for this. It’s a thought you feel terrible about as soon as you have it, but it’s the truth. Lara had cautioned you before his first visit that he was going to be hypersensitive to disappointment and frustration until he learned how to cope with the feelings he’d been using the Dilaudid to block out. Unfortunately, the information, while useful, didn’t always make his emotional extremes easier to deal with.

You run a hand down your face. “Spencer…” you start. You’re not sure what to continue with, but you don’t have to—for whatever reason, that sets him off.

He tears his eyes away from the floor to glare at you. “Don’t—don’t touch my things ever again!” Then he turns and all but runs to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

You suck in a breath and drop your head to the counter. The marble is cool and you thump your forehead against it gently a few times, focusing on breathing in and out slowly to calm down. When you’re ready, you walk as quietly as you can to the bedroom door and press your ear against it to hear the unmistakable sound of Spencer sobbing into his pillow.

Part of you wants to go in and comfort him, but you suspect that you’d just make it worse right now since some of his frustration is directed at you. And truth be told, you’re frustrated with him, too. So you retreat to the living room, flopping down on the couch and pulling out your phone to call the restaurant to cancel your reservations. Doing so is more upsetting than you expected; a few tears of your own slide down your face after you hang up. Before you know it, you’re calling Tara.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asks you.

“I…” You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Spencer’s… we’re having a bad day. If you’re not busy, can I talk to you about it?”

“Of course,” is her gentle reply, and you pull yourself to your feet, moving to the farthest point away from the bedroom in the apartment so Spencer won’t overhear.

“He got angry when you told him you got rid of everything?” she guesses when you reach that part.

“Yeah. He told me that he doesn’t like it when I move his things. I already knew that; that’s why everything else is where he left it. I think he was mostly just caught off guard that I knew all his hiding places.”

“If he’s having a trauma response to seeing JJ, he’s not going to be thinking clearly, either,” Tara points out. “I wasn’t there, so I could be wrong, but from what you’ve said, it sounds like she was some sort of trigger for him.”

“That’s more than a fair assessment. It’s just… confusing,” you say. “He wasn’t like this with her when he first got home from prison. He actually spent a lot of time at JJ’s house before his relapse. He’d go over and hold Michael when he couldn’t sleep. Why is seeing his best friend suddenly such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t have to make sense to us. It only has to make sense to the traumatized part of the brain,” she explains. “He may not even know why himself.”

“Hmm.” You ponder it for a moment. “I think I’d find that interesting if I wasn’t living it.”

Tara laughs out loud at that. “Yeah, I’ve found that to be rather commonplace sentiment in the field of psychology.”

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling calmer. “Thanks for listening,” you say. “I feel better now.”

“Anytime, (Y/N).”

You exchange goodbyes, making plans to catch up properly over lunch next week. You hang up, then tiptoe back to the bedroom door. It’s quiet now; Spencer seems to have stopped crying. You knock softly. “Honey? Can I come in?”

When he doesn’t respond, you try the door handle. It’s unlocked, which is a good sign—he’s upset, but not upset enough to completely shut you out. You open the door just enough to look in.

Spencer’s on the bed as expected, huddled under his weighted blanket. His back is to the door and you see his shoulders shuddering in the little breaths that follow him crying. In your experience, he usually seeks out comfort before this stage, often having the breakdown itself in your arms or stumbling into them halfway through. This is a bit of uncharted territory. You know that after outbursts of negative emotions, he tends to need reassurance and touch from someone to help him decompress and feel better. You just don’t know if that’s going to hold true for this kind of reaction. A trauma response, Tara called it. You hope it will, because you don’t know what else to do.

“I’m going to come in now,” you tell him before taking a step inside. You leave the door open behind you so he won’t feel trapped, then slowly approach him, looking out for signs that he doesn’t want you near—tensing muscles, slight rocking, shaking his head—but he stays still.

Once you sit down on the edge of the bed you can see his face. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks are red and raw from wiping away tears. A few are still slipping out, sliding sideways down his face and dropping onto the wet patch on his pillowcase as he stares blankly at the wall across the room.

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his arm as lightly as you can. He takes in a deep breath, but does nothing to suggest that he wants you to remove it. After a few moments to ensure that he’s okay with touch, you start running your hand up and down his back. He whimpers a little in response, closing his eyes and titling back into your touch.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

You don’t get a straightforward answer. He chews on his bottom lip for a bit before speaking in a scratchy voice. “Can you…?” he mumbles, lifting his head up slightly from the pillow, then dropping it back down. You don’t know what he’s asking for until you see some of his fingers poking out from under the blanket and the stroking motion they’re making.

You maneuver across the mattress to sit against the headboard, jostling him as little as you can, and he shifts to place his head in your lap. When you start carding your fingers through his hair, his eyes flutter closed and he lets out a little sigh.

“What’s going on?” you ask once the tension has faded and his body has settled fully into the mattress. He just shrugs and you press your lips together to hold back a sigh. You’re familiar with him going nonverbal and you know that he can’t help it, but it’s discouraging. One of the main things he’s been working on is being more open about his emotions. It’s been a welcome change to not have to pry things out of him. But he seems to have gone right back to old habits tonight and it’s… well, it’s disappointing.

The silence carries on for a long time as you continue to run your hands through his hair. He’s so still and relaxed that you think he may have fallen asleep until he takes in a deep, shuddering breath and clears his throat. “I… I want to go back,” he whispers.

“Back whe--” you start, then your heart drops as you realize what he means. “Oh.”

Your hands fall to your lap as he sits up and clambers out of bed, muttering, “gonna get changed.” He shuts the bathroom door behind him—for whatever reason, he’s not always comfortable with you seeing him changing or in the shower anymore—and you sit still for a few moments, processing what he just said. After over a month of listening to him express his desire to come home—begging you, even, in the beginning—you were unprepared to hear the opposite.

You shake your head slightly to try and clear it, then follow his lead, leaving the bed and changing out of your fancy clothes, trying not to think about how much you had been looking forward to wearing them to the restaurant.

Spencer remains quiet for the drive back to his treatment center, staring out the passenger side window, legs pulled into his chest. He mumbles a quick “bye” to you when you check him back in—no hug or kiss on the cheek like you’ve grown accustomed to. Instead he turns right back to the nurse and staff member running the process and asks, “Is Matt working tonight? I need to talk to him.”

At least he wants to talk to someone, you tell yourself as you leave, trying to soothe the sting caused by the fact that the someone isn’t you.

---

The next time you see him is six days later, on Friday evening. You’ve only talked once since Saturday, over the phone on Wednesday night, and it wasn’t a long call. He was upset about the horse therapy appointment being canceled that afternoon because of the weather—it had rained hard all day—and didn’t say much else. He ended the call before the ten minute mark, saying that he was tired and wanted to go lie down.

He also didn’t request a visit for the weekend—he either didn’t think his treatment team would approve it or he just didn’t want one. So you’re visiting him at the center today. You’ve brought dinner with you—you cooked one of his favorites yourself—but before you eat, you’re having an appointment with him and his therapist.

Spencer glances up only briefly when you enter the office, quickly looking back down. One of his knees is bouncing.

You sit down on the other side of the couch, looking between him and Lara in the chair across from you. “So, um, what’s going on?” you ask.

Spencer looks to Lara and she gives him an encouraging nod. He takes in a deep breath before speaking. “I… I wanted to talk to you about what ha—happened last week,” he says quietly, keeping his gaze on his lap.

You don’t know why exactly he wants to do it here, with his therapist, but wanting to talk about it at all is a good sign.. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Right, um. Seeing… seeing JJ, it--” he stops abruptly, and his hands tremble slightly as he runs them down his thighs. “Sorry, doing… doing this is making me really anxious.”

“Take your time,” Lara says and you nod in agreement.

“Okay.” He runs his hands through his hair a few times before continuing. “Se—seeing her brought up emotions and, and memories I wasn’t ready to, um, confront. It… it really tri—triggered me.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” you say quietly.

Spencer grimaces at the words. He lifts his hand, puts it back down, then lifts it again and rubs at one of his eyes. “I…” he starts, then fixes his gaze on the floor and goes silent.

“(Y/N).” You tear your eyes from him and look at Lara. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Spencer about Saturday? Maybe what it was like for you?”

“Oh. Um.” You chew on your bottom lip for a moment. You’ve worried about how what you say could effect him since his relapse—one of your biggest fears is saying something that would drive him to use. But it’s stressful to keep up with, and with his therapist is probably the best place to start ridding yourself of your new habit of… well, of walking on eggshells around him.

“I think it would be good for him to know,” Lara says.

“Alright.” You lace your fingers together in your lap. “I guess it was just… startling to me. JJ’s your best friend and you’ve never acted that way to her. Or anyone, really, other than your father.”

Spencer stays silent, but flinches at the mention of his dad.

“Do you have anything to say to that?” Lara prompts. He shakes his head, so she looks back to you. “How did seeing Spencer like that make you feel?”

You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly; you’re a little scared to say, not wanting to make him feel worse. “It was… distressing. Especially when he got mad at me for getting rid of his Dilaudid. I know he doesn’t like having his things touched without permission but I don’t think it was reasonable to expect that I wouldn’t have done that.”

Lara nods. “That makes sense. But our feelings aren’t always logical.”

“Yeah, I understand. I guess I just wish he would have told me what was wrong instead of being silent--”

Spencer finally speaks up then, in protest. “I couldn’t help it!”

“I—I know that,” you argue back. “I just—I’m just telling you how I felt.”

He looks away, folding his arms and sinking further into the couch.

“Spencer,” Lara says gently. “You wanted to know how (Y/N) felt, remember? And we talked about how you were probably going to hear things you wouldn’t like.”

You blink, taken aback that this was his idea. And with that comes the realization of just how long it’s been since he’s asked how you’re feeling. Thinking back, you realize that the last time you had a conversation that wasn’t only focused on his feelings and well-being was the day you found him asleep and tied to his mother. This… it’s Spencer before prison.

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by him sighing and muttering, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Alright. Anything else?” Lara asks you.

There’s a lot else, you’re discovering, but you’re not sure you can unpack it all right now. “Maybe…” you say. “Maybe he could just tell me what I can do to help when he’s… triggered?”

“I don’t know,” he says dully, and when he catches the small frown on your face, insists, “I don’t.”

“Yet,” Lara adds.

He sighs again. “Yet,” he repeats.

“I know it’s frustrating,” she says. “Your solution to these kinds of feelings before was denial or using. A solution, not just a problem,” she emphasizes. “I want you both to try and think of it like that, and get comfortable with the fact that it’s going to take awhile to overcome those habits.”

A solution, not a problem. It’s… weird to think of his addiction that way, but you can try, so you give her a nod.

“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer mumbles. But behind the defensive body language, he just seems tired.

He seems to relax a little when the meeting wraps up and it’s only the two of you in one of the rooms used for visits. He remains quiet, but when you place the plate of food you dish him across the table from yours, he slides it back and sits in the chair beside you. “Sorry,” he whispers as soon as you take a bite of food.

“For what?” you ask once you’ve swallowed.

“For yelling at you on Saturday,” he says quietly. “I was upset but I shouldn’t have yelled.”

His leg is bouncing under the table; you put your hand on his knee to still it. “Apology accepted,” you say softly.

He shakes his head slightly. “You don’t have to. I was awful to you on Saturday.”

You frown at his skewed interpretation of events. “Spencer, you really weren’t. You yelled at me, yes, but other than that, you were fine.” And you’ve said much worse when you’ve been high.

“I ruined dinner. And don’t say it’s not a big deal,” he adds before you can speak. “You mentioned it every time we spoke in the week leading up to it. You were really excited about it, and I ruined it.”

Spencer’s read you like a book—that was exactly what you were going to say. “Yeah, I was really looking forward to it,” you admit. “And it sucked to have to cancel the reservations. But there will be other dinners, and it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“But what if I did?” His voice is so quiet that you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t right next to you.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean…” he rocks slightly in his seat, which you immediately recognize as one of his self-soothing behaviors. You move your hand from his knee to his hair, lightly running your fingers through the curls covering the nape of his neck to try and help. His head tilts forward a little at your touch and after a brief silence, he continues. “I just mean that self-sabotage wouldn’t exactly be something new for me.”

“Oh.” You take your time considering it; he won’t believe you if you give in to your knee-jerk reaction to protest the negative feelings he harbors towards himself. But he grows agitated at your silence, rocking a bit harder and rubbing at his eye. You tug his hair lightly without really thinking about it in response.

“I’m just thinking,” you assure. “You deserve an honest, thought-out answer.”

After taking a deep breath, he nods. “Okay. I understand. Maybe you could just, uh… to help c--comfort…” He swallows and his voice drops back to a whisper. “Could you do that again?”

“Do what?”

“Um, pull… pull my hair. You did that a few moments ago. Please?”

You almost want to tease him—a year ago, you would have. But he’s been so timid and unsure when asking for any intimate touch other than cuddling since he got back from prison. You don’t want to discourage him from asking any more than he seems to be discouraging himself.

“Of course, baby,” you answer softly, and do just that. He closes his eyes and drops his head onto your shoulder. “As far as the self-sabotaging goes, you’re… not good at lying to me,” you muse. “And after six years with you, I feel like I’m pretty familiar with all the ways Spencer Reid self-sabotages. This never even crossed my mind until you brought it up, so I don’t see that as being what happened.”

You can’t tell if he believes you. A neutral “okay” is all you get from him, but at least he’s not outright disagreeing.

You gently pull his hair a few more times. “You should eat before it gets cold and we have to heat it up again.”

He takes the suggestion, picking his fork up, but you’ve never seen him less enthused about eating one of his favorite foods. He’s only cleared half of his plate when you’re done with all of yours.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but sigh at the habitual response, and consider your next words carefully. “Spencer, I don’t mean to be pushy, but you told me you were working on not dismissing people’s concern for you when they express it.”

“I am,” he mutters, but doesn’t say anything else, just continues to push his food around his plate aimlessly.

“Well, is something wrong with the food?” you ask. “Did I get the texture wrong, or--”

“No, no,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “It’s not the food. The food’s great. It’s… it’s me that’s the problem.”

Your eyebrows come together. “I don’t understand.”

“I…” He starts to blush. “I’m not eating it all because I think I need to lose some weight.”

“Don’t you dare,” you say immediately without thinking. He makes a startled noise at the same time you clap your hand over your mouth. You definitely don’t want him to lose weight, you just hadn’t meant for it to come out like that.

On the day he came home and agreed to treatment, you’d seen just how underweight he’d become as you helped him unbutton his shirt. The stark outline of his ribs against his skin had been scary, and you had no desire to see that again. It was a relief when he started to gain back what he’d lost in prison and afterwards. And you were happy to see him continue to put on even more than that.

You clear your throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. You were just so skinny when you got here. You look good like this.”

“I’ve never weighed this much before,” he says, and the distress in his tone makes you think that this is a fact that has been bothering him for a while. “Some of my clothes are getting too tight.”

“We can buy you new clothes.”

“But we don’t know how much longer the insurance will cover my stay here. Residential treatment is expensive. We don’t need to be spending extra money on clothes when I could just lose the weight instead and not need them.”

“Hey.” You put your hand on his cheek. “I don’t want you to worry about money. The insurance is covering it for now. If they stop, that’s a problem to deal with when we get there. Just focus on getting better.”

He looks away from you, down to his lap. “I should still lose some weight,” he says eventually.

“Have you medical staff told you that?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he admits with a sigh.

“Then you’re not allowed to worry about it,” you say firmly. “Finish your dinner.”

Spencer hesitates, but picks his fork back up. The corners of his mouth turn up just slightly when he starts eating again, telling you that despite his fretting, he’s happy not to stop himself from eating as much as he wants.

He seems to be in a much better mood at the end of the evening than he was when you arrived, though a bit more subdued and quieter than normal. He also appears to be very tired. It’s only 7:30 but he keeps yawning. He denies dozing off with his head on your shoulder while you were talking after dinner, but you’re sure he did.

During your parting hug, he nestles his face into your neck just like he always does when you’re sleeping in bed together. “Try and get some good sleep tonight,” you encourage, smoothing your hands down his back. “And Spencer?”

He pulls back to look at you and you settle your hands lightly on his waist. “I meant it, you know.” You squeeze slightly. “When I said you look good like this.”

It takes him a few moments to catch onto what you’re implying; when he does, his eyebrows shoot up and his breath catches. “Oh. O—okay. I’ll, um…” he glances down shyly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better.” You look over your shoulder as you leave, and the small smile he’s wearing prompts one of your own.

--------------- 

tell me what you thought here!

i'd like to put it out there that i don’t hate jj and i really hope it didn’t come across like that. i hadn’t even planned that scene; it just wrote itself. i promise it’ll be resolved before the end of this fic.

another shoutout to the book The Body Keeps the Score for helping immensely with the planning and writing of this. i literally have pages of notes from it. 

you can also find irl pictures of spencer’s therapy horse here.

all we can do taglist: @thatsonezesty13 , @jhillio , @elitereid

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #angst #my fic #tw substances #one day i'll write something that's short

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 13

Characters: Kylo Ren x Original Female Character, Poe Dameron x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 13 - Exposure

Words: 5.5k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Descriptions medical procedures

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

~

“Alex! You’re okay!”

“So are you!” I burst, eyes already wet with tears of relief. My gaze darted over the holoprojection of Poe’s face, his brilliant smile beaming through from lightyears away.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” he grinned, leaning closer into the holo. “We’ve been trying to make this contact for weeks.”

A dazzling joy surged in my chest, so happy that my assumptions of being forgotten were baseless. “Did you complete your mission?”

“You’re talking to the best pilot in the galaxy here.” He shot me a charming wink, maintaining his smile. “Actually made it back a few days ahead of schedule.”

Tears continued to dribble out, attempting to calm myself with a shaky exhale. “I’ve been so worried.”

Poe’s expression turned earnest. “I was going to say the same thing.” His expression fell, looking down. “I didn’t want to leave you there. I’m… I’m so sorry Alex. We’re all sorry.”

“It’s alright,” I soothed. “It was the right thing to do at the time. Did you all safely make it back to the base?”

“Left just in time to avoid their tracking systems. So your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.”

“Indeed it wasn’t,” a woman’s voice agreed, her instantly recognisable image appearing in front of me moments later.

Leia Organa.

“I’m so glad to finally put a face to the person who saved my best fighters.”

I was awestruck at the sight of the entrancing older woman, with kind yet determined eyes looking right at me. “Well… uh… They were the ones who protected me against the Death troopers. I really didn’t do anything.”

She shook her head, smiling warmly. “We all know what you did, what you’ve endured because of your selflessness.”

“What I’ve endured?”

“We have recently gained a Resistance spy within the First Order, the one who directed you to this holoprojector,” Poe started explaining. “They’ve been keeping an eye on you. Sending us intel about your condition.”

I thought of the blonde, curled hair I glimpsed a few minutes ago, not recalling ever seeing it before. Whoever it was had obviously done his reconnaissance at a distance. “The cell stay wasn’t exactly easy,” I conceded, looking sincerely to Poe. “But I’m managing better now.”

A glaring lie.

“One thing they couldn’t tell us Alex,” Leia started, her expression now troubled. “Is why exactly they’re keeping you on the Finalizer. Our spy hasn’t been able to collect any information about the subject. To me, it seems a little... bizarre you’re being forced to work for them.”

I was stuck on how to begin to formulate an answer when a commotion from behind the two figures made them turn around.

“I heard you finally made contact!” Rey’s voice excitedly cheered from somewhere in the room, her image quickly arriving into view, displaying an enthusiastic grin as she huddled in next to Leia. “Alex! I’m so glad to see you!”

I returned a warming smile, her sunny disposition difficult not to mirror.

“Oh thank the maker,” Finn heaved, sliding alongside Rey, the four figures now pressed closely into the outline of the holo, Poe seeming faintly annoyed at the intrusion. “If I had to live through one more day of Poe ranting about this stealth signal not getting through, I was gonna go insane.”

Poe was already looking to me when I glanced at his face, an unspoken understanding exchanging between us. “Well now since apparently we’re all here,” he huffed, “Can we actually get back to the issue at hand? We’ve only got a limited amount of time before this signal becomes compromised, and the hard-lock on Alex’s comm-room door overrides.”

Leia nodded in agreement and looked at me again. “Do you know why they’re holding you there Alex?”

I was weighted with a heavy dose of terror in giving my answer, my stare shooting immediately to Rey. Her smile had faded, instead she wore an expression of reassurance.

She hadn’t told them.

“I… I… uh…” I stammered, a flurry of emotions spinning in my brain. I was so sure she would have exposed me.

“It’s okay Alex,” Rey insisted, her tone calming. “I know why you’re scared. I completely understand why you kept it a secret. But we won’t harm you because of it. I promise.”

All eyes darted to Rey, each face breaking into confusion.

Poe was the only one to say what they were all thinking. “What are you talking about?”

I felt my chest begin to tighten, oxygen becoming a little harder to grasp onto. “I’m not ready,” I whispered.

Rey’s appearance was comforting, yet serious. “It’s time. You may not be ready, but sometimes we don’t get the choice.”

I inhaled deeply, scrunching my lids closed, trying to build some sort of confidence to reject the instincts and rules I had been abiding by all these years. A lifetime of keeping my gift undisclosed, hiding it away, never getting too close to anyone, had left me more attached to my secret than anything else in the galaxy. Fear had always kept it’s hold, guiding my actions, and it was pulling at me again now, trying to warn me of the danger once more. But if I didn’t tell them, Rey would be forced to.

And above anything else, I wanted Poe to hear it from me.

“I can… use the Force,” I said slowly, most likely out loud for the first time in my life. “I taught myself… how to heal others with it, when they were close to death.” There was an excruciating silence as Poe, Leia and Finn comprehended my answer, each wearing a different expression of realisation. My stare was only focused on Poe, trying to properly gauge his reaction to my admittance of lying. “I didn’t want anyone to find out, so I’d also learnt how to hide it - to prevent other force-sensitive people from feeling my energy, from hearing my thoughts.”

“Why?” Leia asked gently. “Why were you so afraid?”

“My parents were distrustful of those who were attuned to the Force after living through a time where Darth Vader wreaked havoc on the galaxy. They told me old stories of little children being taken away from their families to be trained as Jedi, only to have all of them massacred, even the younglings. They made it seem like the most dangerous thing in the world was being someone with that gift. So even as a child, when I felt the power growing within, I pushed it down, hid it away. I didn’t want to fight in any wars, and I didn’t want to be killed. I just… wanted a normal life.”

Both Rey and Leia were nodding with me as I spoke, seeming to understand my decision.

“That’s why you were on Raxus. So isolated,” Poe murmured, not looking at me.

“Yes. I kept it a secret for as long as I could, all through my training, only using this power sporadically through the years. But I was too close to being caught whilst working in a medical camp on the Inner Rim, during a skirmish the First Order instigated on a planet because of their resources. A Stormtrooper noticed me healing one of the planet’s inhabitants, one whom he was sure he’d rendered on the brink of death. He wanted to take me to his leader, claiming he would have good use for someone with my abilities. I managed to escape him and ran, giving up my job, my home, all without telling anyone where I was going. I settled on Raxus, built my clinic, rarely having to use my power, never really worrying about being caught again. Until... Poe crashed on my doorstep.”

“And you had to use it then, didn’t you?” Rey assumed, obviously a question she had been waiting to ask. I nodded.

Finn’s eyes sparkled. “I knew it! I knew there was a reason he healed so quickly.”

The death stare Rey shot to him was severe in intensity, and under any other circumstance I would have thought it was funny. But my focus was centred completely on Poe’s expression as he remained engrossed in deliberation, his eyes still not reaching back to me.

“Is this why they’re keeping you held on the Finalizer? They wish to utilize your power to heal?” Leia guessed.

“They don’t know about it.”

Each of their expressions turned to disbelief.

“How? Surely Kylo Ren would have rummaged through your mind the minute you got on that ship,” Finn burst, turning to Rey. “That’s what he did to you right?” She nodded in agreement, still looking to me for my answer.

“I was able to keep him out, like I did to you Rey,” I replied.

Rey seemed impressed, and a realisation clicked behind her eyes. “That’s why he won’t let you leave. He hasn’t figured out why."

I became uneasy, suddenly worrying about the blame I’d been placing on her. “He thinks it’s because of you, that you’ve somehow placed a block around my mind. And I... didn’t exactly correct him.”

Rey let a sly smile form on her lips. “Well that would be a valuable thing to make use of, if only it were true.”

Finn appeared dubious. “I still don’t understand why you agreed to work for them.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I subtly scowled. “It was that or rot in a cell until Kylo Ren managed to infiltrate my thoughts, learning of my sensitivity to the Force, leaving me in a lot worse situation.”

Finn appeared understanding of that answer. It had been Rey’s own powers that made the man obsessed with capturing her. Leia, who had seemed more troubled while we conversed of the Supreme Leader, finally spoke up again. “How long do you think you can hold yourself against… him?”

“I don’t know.” My heart thumped with anxiety, reminded of his last attempt to penetrate my barrier. Thinking about it, with Poe’s image right in front of me, made a familiar sickness bubble in my stomach. He still refused to meet my gaze, his face pained, making an ache begin to surge in my chest.

“Well we have to make some kind of plan right? To rescue her before that happens? Poe?” Finn insisted, somehow rustling Poe out from his inner turmoil.

“Right. Sure. Of course,” he agreed, only the slightest glance in my direction. I had to clench my teeth to hold back the tears wanting to form in my eyes, his indifferent response causing a wave of guilt to wash through.

Leia could sense the tense energy exchanging between us, even through the holo. “Finn, Rey, let’s start discussing our next move. Away from the holoprojector.” She looked firmly at the two, an unspoken communication. Rey shot me a look of both support and sympathy, understanding exactly why Leia was leading them away.

“Hang in there,” Finn added before standing to leave. “We’ll get you out real soon.”

I tried my best to reply with a grateful smile, but it was hard to form through the nervousness I felt at being alone with Poe after my revelation.

One by one their figures receded from the flickering blue picture, leaving Poe alone once again. I couldn’t bring myself to speak first, unsure of what to say. He felt further away than ever, his touch a memory that continued to fade.

Time was running out, the seconds ticking away as we both waited in stillness for the other to break the strained silence. When his eyes finally drifted to me again, I was wounded by the hurt in them, still acutely obvious in the artificial image.

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” he whispered. “You had all that time.”

I dipped my head, conceding. “I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” he shot with unrestrained exasperation. “Scared that I would continue to be grateful for you saving my life?”

I looked back up, stunned by his angered tone. “I didn’t want anyone to find out, let alone someone who had ties with the Resistance.”

“What did you think I would do, what the Resistance would make you do?”

“Pull me into a war I didn’t want to fight! Lead me into a life I didn’t want to lead!”

I could see his jaw tighten, an attempt in calming himself. “The fact you assume I’m the type of person that would force you into anything, let alone war, even after everything I told you, is insulting.”

“That’s so unfair,” I retaliated, my bottom lip on the edge of trembling. “I didn’t even know who you were when I decided to heal you. I chose to risk everything to keep you alive. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Poe exhaled hard, the sound crackling in the holo. “I will always be in your debt for what you did. But you still lied to me Alex. To my face. You assumed the worst of me, of all of us. You hid the truth because you thought we would take advantage of your power, not caring about what you wanted, what you could choose.”

“You haven’t lived my life Poe,” I argued, a ferocity beginning to rise. “You haven’t lived with the same fear I have all your life.”

He stared at me through the staticky blue light, silence once again taking over. We were locked in each other’s eyes, even through all the distance separating us.

“You pushed me away because of it, didn’t you?” he asked, the sting of his tone now gone.

I didn’t have to respond for him to know my answer. Suddenly there was a loud click of the door behind me, the hard-lock releasing.

Our time was up.

“I’m sorry,” I implored, only a moment before Poe’s face was snatched from my view, the holoprojector powering down into darkness.

My throat felt tight, a new kind of shame gripping tightly. I’d always been so afraid of sharing my secret, but not for this reason. Not because it would make me a liar in the eyes of the one I longed to be reunited with so badly.

*

I stayed in the darkened comm-room long after the hard-lock was disengaged. No one came to open it. Even if they had, they would have only found my figure sitting against one of the large data configurators, stuck in a motionless trance.

I wasn’t entirely sure what kept me from crying, because there was certainly a hollow sadness sitting on my chest, yet the emotion never seemed to manifest into anything. It was possibly due to the stark realisation that my power, my use of the Force, wasn’t a secret anymore.

And nothing bad happened.

They hadn’t been afraid, judgemental, desperate to use it for their own benefit. They had wanted nothing. Rey even kept it to herself, waiting for me to expose the circumstance in my own time, supporting the decision I’d made long ago to hold the power deep within.

Alongside the sadness, there was an intense shame thumping with my heartbeat. Poe had been right, once again highlighting my selfish and distrustful nature, even to those who didn’t deserve it. He’d always been unconditionally honest, and I had given him lies in return. He was right to be offended, to feel slighted by my deceit, our whole encounter now coloured with my dishonesty.

The only comforting part of the holoprojector discussion, apart from knowing for sure Poe with how we parted, was there was a plan being formed for my rescue. There was still a chance I might make it off this ship, escaping before Kylo Ren saw through my weakening façade. He had gotten closer than ever before in the preceding morning, and it couldn’t be long until he figured out another way to tug at my emotions hard enough to unravel me completely.

My only hope was that it wasn’t my attraction to him, the way he undeniably ignited the fire inside that he continued to toy with in his endeavour to push past the veil over my mind.

*

When I slipped back through the doors of the Prestige ward I was bombarded with questions from Risha and the other staff concerning the incidents of the night, most of them somewhat impressed with my boldness. While the others thought nothing of my return, assuming that for once justice had prevailed and I’d been seen to act in self-defence, Risha was obviously astonished I wasn’t still sitting in my cell. She followed me to the isolation room, where my intubated patient still lay in critical condition, but fortunately alive.

“How did you manage to convince them to let you out?” she questioned. “I thought I’d be visiting you in that cell.”

I read over the observations, the patient’s vitals seemingly stable during my absence.

I would need to thank Irwin later.

“I didn’t have to convince them of anything. My retaliation was considered appropriate by the Supreme Leader, so he allowed my release.”

Risha physically recoiled in disbelief. “There are like, 20 things wrong with what you just said.”

“It was a surprise to me too,” I agreed, continuing to perform my own assessment of the ill man in front of me.

“Alex, I don’t think you comprehend how unusual it is for the Supreme Leader to involve himself with matters like this.”

“I think we can both agree nothing about my situation is usual.”

“I mean, that’s true.” She folded her arms, still doubtful. “But for him to punish the Colonel instead of you. That’s just…bizarre. Snoke would never have been called to make a decision like that, let alone given any care for your wellbeing.”

I stopped, giving Risha’s answer more than a few seconds of thought. “Maybe he wants to be a different type of leader.”

She snorted. “We all know Snoke was the one who seduced him to the dark side, who turned him into what he is today. You think he would cast away his teachings, suddenly show compassion?”

“You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought,” I murmured.

“Well there’s not a lot else to talk about working on this ship. All we debated in the days after Snoke’s death, and Kylo Ren’s appointment as Supreme Leader, was whether his rule would be the same or significantly worse. No one even had the slightest notion he would be… like this.”

I shrugged, walking back to the progress notes and typing my assessment out. “Maybe he thinks if I owe him one I’ll be less likely to cause anymore issues. Maybe he hopes for me to like it here so I won’t attempt an escape.”

Risha tugged at my arm, making me look to her. “Is that something you were considering?” she whispered.

I didn’t want to give any kind of verbal confirmation to that intention, knowing now the ears always listening into our conversations. I also refused to implicate this sweet person in any of my future plans, knowing it was safer to give an overly dismissive answer. “Of course not. I wouldn’t even know how if I wanted to. I’ll just keep waiting it out. I’m sure they’ll grow bored with me eventually.”

Risha certainly wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t dictate that stance. “So how are you feeling? After… you know.”

“I’m alright,” I reassured, which was a blazing lie. “Better now knowing the Colonel won’t be back on this ward again.”

“Me too,” Risha breathed, showing me a small smile. Mild irritation sizzled knowing what it took to finally have someone to act on a predator like Colonel Wynver, still wishing his punishment would have been more severe. But I had to be appreciative that Risha, and the other women who worked here, could have some comfort due to his hopefully permanent absence from their life.

*

I farewelled Risha after making sure Irwin had given her an adequate handover of the nights new admits, noticing that more beds were now filled with those who had contracted the heavily contagious illness. There was a part of me that worried about the situation I would return to at the start of my shift this evening, but I was too exhausted to fret for too long.

I made sure to pick up a meal from the mess hall before returning to my quarters, horrendously starving from a whole shift without a chance to eat. The shower I had after ravenously devouring my food was just soothing enough to put me in a better state of mind before settling under the bed sheets to sleep, even with the ache beating slowly in the background of my mind at how Poe and I had parted from our transmission.

My only hope was Rey could make him see sense in the way I had kept my power hidden, maybe make him understand how harsh the fear was that drove me to lie.

Sleep arrived effortlessly this time, only minutes passing with my eyes closed before I was pulled into slumber.

*

When I felt my eyes open again, it was obvious I was dreaming, standing on a deserted beach, the horizon a flat line against the evening sky, a lone sun close to sinking past the ocean. It felt peaceful, a melting glow spreading through my body, relishing the sunset scene. But soon I realised I’d never been to a place like this before. I’d never even stepped close to a beach in my short life.

It was then I sensed the presence with me, the strange energy hovering far behind my figure. I went to turn, to face the mystery aura, but I was chained to where I stood, my eyes still viewing the yellowed skyline, the faint sound of small waves lapping against the shore. The energy shifted, my focus trained on its movement as it edged closer, finally taking a position just beyond my right shoulder.

“You’ve been doing spectacularly well,” a familiar voice mused.

I sighed. “I wondered when you were finally going to disturb me again. You’ve been unusually quiet.”

I felt a smile cross the figures lips, although I was unsure exactly what its face would appear as.

“You seem to be managing perfectly fine without my assistance. I didn’t feel the need to intrude.”

“As opposed to back on Raxus, when I couldn’t avoid your constant warnings?” I grumbled, recalling the many interruptions the voice had made concerning my growing attachment to Poe.

The energy moved again, my eyes darting to the space beside me, still unable to turn my head to that direction. I was only able to capture the image of a hooded figure stepping into my periphery, its face almost completely hidden by darkened brown fabric. I could just make out the shape of their lips. Human. And feminine, matching the tone I had heard in my mind for almost my whole life.

“You were making poor decisions,” the hooded woman stated. “Decisions that would bring about damaging consequences.”

“Maybe if I knew the consequences you seem to be so concerned with, I would make the right choices.”

She laughed, a low breathy chuckle that was oddly musical. “That’s not how this works. I can’t interfere with your free will.”

“Can you at least tell me what ‘this’ is? Why you’re inside my head?”

I could see her lips purse, a deliberate silence between us. “It’s not time yet. You’re not ready.”

An unwelcome shiver pulsed, irritation swelling once again. “I would ask what exactly I need to be ready for, but I can assume you won’t tell me that either.”

The woman smiled again, white teeth peeking through her lips on the edge of my vision. “I’m glad you’ve come to that understanding quickly.”

I exhaled hard, growing impatient with the interference of my much-needed sleep. “Is there a reason why you’re here now, deciding to show yourself for the first time?”

“I wanted to ensure you knew you were playing your part well, in the hopes it would encourage you to stay on this path.”

I creased my eyebrows, contemplating how any of my actions in the last few weeks would have been appropriate on this journey I was apparently walking. “And I’m assuming you’ll let me know when I might divert from this destination you’ve got in mind?”

“Indeed,” she nodded, her head lifting in time to watch the sun finally fade completely past the horizon, plunging both of us into darkness. “But I have faith you won’t require my help for the foreseeable future.”

I could only hope such a notion was true, this woman’s voice always having been a horrible strain on my thoughts. But without knowing exactly what I was doing so well, I was unsure if I could keep her intrusions from appearing again. I watched with the woman as stars began to glitter through the sky, reflecting on the stilled ocean, making an even bigger vision of night envelop the landscape. A delicate breeze of wind then brushed against my skin, and she was gone, her energy fading instantly, leaving me alone on the beach once again.

The soothing power of the twinkling scene soon made an overwhelming fatigue encircle my brain, and I was unable to prevent my eyelids from drooping closed.

*

It was obvious I’d been rustling in my sleep when I awoke again hours later, sheets twisted haphazardly over my limbs. I’d finally managed a full 8 hours, feeling the most rested I’d been in days. Although waking to an impossibly long list of questions I couldn’t get answers to didn’t exactly make me feel relaxed.

I laid on my back, wishing I could will the woman’s voice back into existence, only wanting to know why and how she housed her spirit inside my mind. The spoken warnings and guidance had always been there, pestering me with advice, sometimes threatening. But I always assumed it was a form of my own conscience, born from an unknown area of my brain that battled its morals against my decision making. Knowing now it was something more than that, that it was something or someone keeping a close watch over my actions, was oddly comforting.

Maybe I hadn’t been alone all of these years.

*

My last overnight duty before returning to the day shift was chaotic to say the least. Almost all beds of the Prestige ward became filled with viral patients, a large portion of the Finalizer Command leaders now in my company. A dark humour would have mentioned to the Resistance yesterday that this sickness was probably more incapacitating than their assaults had ever been, but I honestly didn’t want to place the idea of biological warfare inside their heads.

While my intubated patient had already improved from my last visit, I was now dealing with three more who’s health was extremely critical. I had never been so appreciative for the medical droids who worked here, their ability to recognise deteriorations in vitals being much quicker than my own.

I’d been given a status report from the rest of the ship earlier in the night, which implied the other wards were in much the same position. Although, it was interesting to note the slowing occurrence between Stormtrooper personnel, their armour and helmets seeming to provide an amount of protection that the Command leaders didn’t utilise.

The Bio-med lab had assured they would have a cure and subsequent vaccine within the next couple of days, pressing us to keep as many patients alive in the meantime. Which was easier said than done. Bacta didn’t help in eradicating the virus or it’s symptoms.

Fortunately for my own health I had already been afflicted with a strain similar during an assignment to Lothal in my training days, the illness sweeping through most of our workers, spread by one of the wounded soldiers. Luckily, none of us had been struck down too harshly, and it had left most of us somewhat immune. In knowing this however, I began to feel a looming dread for the medical staff of this ship who most likely had never been exposed before. It couldn’t be long before they themselves would need to be treated, and I prayed it wouldn’t leave me as the sole doctor still well enough to keep working in the time before a cure was found.

In the morning I handed over the night’s events to the day shift, giving strict instructions for the care of the four intubated patients, offering to return if I was required to at any time. I’d been afforded a full day cycle before returning to normal working hours, a day off of sorts, but with little freedoms being afforded to me on this ship to utilise my free time, I was quite comfortable in being called back to ease the load on the Prestige staff.

No such request had been made by the time I’d taken care of my daily routine, sleeping soundly through another 8 hours, this time without the interruption of vivid dreaming. It was early evening, which was only ever evident by the chronometer in my quarters, and I’d found myself too anxious about how the ward was coping to focus on the literature I was attempting to read.

The unease eventually caused me to change into the mundane set of informal clothes the First Order had allowed, wanting to pay a visit to the ward to ease my worry. A pair of black pants hemmed tight against the outline of my legs and a grey sweater which wrapped around my torso, leaving a bow at the back. I hadn’t pulled my hair up, assuming my visit wouldn’t actually require me to do any work. I wanted to appear as casual as possible, hopefully not implying they would be desperate for my assistance.

I was about to slip around the corner of the small lobby outside my quarters, pondering over the fact I’d never seen anyone enter or exit the two other doors, when I was disrupted by the sight of General Hux making his way down the corridor. He was alone, without his usual entourage of Stormtroopers My eyes narrowed, watching him suspiciously as he closed the space between us, noting the stressed expression he wore, his porcelain cheeks slightly red.

“What have I done this time?” I prodded as he stopped in front of me.

“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for your juvenile mockery Miss Jago,” he snapped. “Come with me, I have a task you are required for.”

I folded my arms. “This is meant to be my day off.”

“You’ll find that I don’t particularly care,” Hux grumbled. It occurred to me how unwilling he seemed to be here, most likely a stern order behind his reason for being in my presence. “You don’t have a choice in this matter. Now follow me.”

“Could you at least tell me what you’re hauling me away to do?”

He didn’t stop his exit. “You’ll find out soon enough. I’m not going to ask you again. Follow me.”

It was curiosity that made me obey his demand, beginning to step behind the irritating man as he led me to an unspecified objective. When we started veering towards a familiar turbo-lift, noting him pressing the floor I’d memorised from the previous day, my whole body pulsed with anger.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I seethed, looking to Hux with a burning contempt.

“It was an order,” he replied sharply.

“It always is,” I fumed, leaning into the durasteel wall of the turbo-lift.

What did he want with me now?

Hux stormed ahead when the doors opened, my shorter strides barely able to keep up as we walked through the darkened hallway. With a simple wave of his hand on the security panel the blast doors opened to the room I had previously been forced into, the huge open view of endless space still taking my breath away.

Hux didn’t stop in the lounge area, instead swerving to the door at the far left, pressing a code quickly into the lock, waiting for me to enter first once it opened. I looked at Hux quizzically before moving past, taking a moment to register the scene I’d been made privy to.

My eyes scanned over Kylo Ren’s figure, now hunched into a ball underneath the sheets of his bed, a sheen of sweat noticeable on his forehead even from the doorway. He was asleep, however it didn’t appear even close to restful, his breaths loud and heaving.

“The Supreme Leader appears to be afflicted with the virus,” Hux stated in a hushed tone, still emotionless as ever. “He requires the care of a medical professional until his health returns to normal. I think you can understand the confidential nature of the task I’m giving to you.”

I nodded slowly, still stunned at what I’d walked into. “But why me? Surely there are other doctors who could do this. Ones who aren’t his hostage.”

“That is most definitely true,” Hux agreed. “But he asked for you.”

~

Next Chapter

Tag list: @tlcwrites​ @blackberries45​ @hopeamarsu​ @caillea​ @princessxkenobi​ @leatherboundbirate​​ @lightsinthedistancee​​ @paterson-blue​​ @rosie-posie08​​ @tina1938​​ @general-latino​​

(Please let me know if you wanted to be added or removed!)

#poe dameron #poe dameron x original female character #kylo ren #kylo ren x original female character #star wars #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction #kylo ren x reader #poe dameron x reader

[skellebonez]

Since it's been a while since I prompted you, 38/51 for Traffic Light Trio and Spicynoodleshipping?

It’s also been a while since you... sent this... I am getting through my prompts slowly but surely! Hopefully the wait was worth it, it has been a while since I have written TLT or SpicyNoodles alone so this was really enjoyable! I apparently missed this more than I realized as this is quite long! (There are references to a past fill as well, but this can be read stand alone.)

If you move from that spot, so help me, I will tie you down/Can you two save the kissing for later?

“For the love of- stop trying to get up Noodle-Brain!” Red Son snapped, albeit more with exasperated worry than anger this time. “You’re only going to make it worse!”

“No, really, I’m fine!” Xiaotian insisted, moving to once again attempt to stand.

He was not fine and his face soon came into contact with an impromptu date with Red Son’s open palm, catching him before he landed on the floor instead. Normally Xiaotian would have pulled his face back with a muttered "sorry" or "thanks" or "wow Red that was shockingly nice of you".

Instead he groaned and allowed himself to just kind of... hang there, his weight being held by that palm that probably felt oddly normal temperatured to him at the moment. Understandable given that his face was flushed red and that even to Red's naturally warmer body temperature touch he felt overheated in fever.

This was not quite the sight Red Son had expected to see when he had ventured out into the city on his own, just wanting to have some kind of time away from his work to gather his thoughts about... well, a lot of things. Ever since the entire fiasco with the Lunar New Year festival his mind had been wandering back toward when he worked with Xiaotian and Xiaojiao and things that happened afterwards.

He still had the phone he had accidentally kept from the green dragon and they had talked a few times. More than a few times. ... ok, maybe they had been texting near daily and had calls every other night and maybe he started watching her streams out of curiosity, and maybe he had been added to a group chat with the Noodle Boy and started to text him too, but he didn't really have anyone else to talk to outside of the his parents and Bull Clones! They were still enemies, just friendly ones! Frenemies! And it had been... nice. To talk to someone who seemed interested in what he wanted to say. And maybe understood him a little. Maybe possibly... didn't actually dislike him as much as he had believed initially.

... and maybe Red Son was deluding himself when he said he didn't actually like either of them, but that was neither here nor there! His thoughts were getting away from him!

The point was thus- he'd gone into the city for a break with the intention of heading to his private apartment he had for such occasions, happened upon one Noodle Boy laying face down on the seat of his (otherwise empty and clearly not being used for work that day) delivery vehicle looking absolutely miserable and burning up, and against his better judgment he took him back to said apartment. That was shockingly easy considering Xiaotian was pretty much passed out due to the high fever combined with his moving around and the fact Red Son could lift the vehicle himself if he wanted to (he didn't, he just took the keys with them so no one would make off with it).

And so that was how Red Son found himself in this predicament. In his apartment with the AC on just enough to be slightly uncomfortable, one sick Monkie Kid doing his best to remove himself from his couch with a cold compress on his forehead while insisting he was fine when he clearly was not, debating on whether or not he should have taken this dumbass to the hospital instead. If only because he was being frustrating to keep still.

"You are most clearly not 'fine', now lay back down," Red Son said with a warning growl, pushing his rival (gently, he wouldn't be so callous as to kick someone while they were down like this) back into the mound of pillows he had laid out for him. He never had visitors so he may as well make the best of this and pull out what he had in storage so they could be used for once. "If you move from that spot, so help me, I will tie you down."

"... ok," Xiaotian finally acquiesced, closing his eyes and laying back into the plush around him and looking even worse than he had before he had been trying to convince the other he was fine. (Though had he not looked clearly sick the sight would have been almost cute to-NO! Red was not going to think that.)

Red Son didn't know what precisely was wrong with him, though based on his symptoms and reactions it was likely a basic but now out of control flu (regardless, he knew he himself was in little to no danger of most human illnesses) and helping him recuperate here (because no one except Red Son was allowed to defeat the Monkie Kid, not even an illness!) was looking like a more reasonable idea now. But he couldn't help but wonder how had the other man allowed himself to get this bad. Why had he even gone outside in his state? He wasn't working, his lack of normal uniform or delivery orders was evidence enough of that, so it wasn't as if he had been forced to go out by his boss. Was he just too stubborn? Did he think he would be ok for a few minutes and not realize he was this ill? The delivery boy was of no help in that regard, brushing off every attempt from the fire demon to learn the answers to those questions. He wasn't delirious, he just refused to answer!

So instead of trying to push again Red Son sighed and stood up. When Xiaotian opened his eyes to look at him in curiosity he frowned at the deep dark bags under them (had he ever been sleeping?) and the dull sheen they seemed to have before he held his hand up in a "stop" motion.

"You stay right there. I meant that threat. I am going to be back in 10 minutes. Do not test me..." Red stood, lifting both his arms for a moment before giving the other another glance. "And don't, uh... die, I guess."

And then Red was gone in a wave of his arms and a flash of fire.

~

He landed at the entrance to a nearby convenience store, not somewhere one would normally think he would frequent but convenience was convenience. And they had very good coffee to grab when he ran out in his apartment. Yes, he was a Villain with a capital V and could just torment the staff for free goods... but he knew that if he did that long enough the stores would start causing him trouble or close down and that would negate the convenience.

No, it wasn't because the first cashier that greeted him was willing to pay for his goods believing he had forgotten his wallet and thus felt guilty for his first attempt at doing so. And he would deny that until the day he died.

That wasn't his goal for the day, however. Red Son may not get ill the way humans did, but it felt useful to him to know how how to treat the more common ailments in the event his family may be forced to work with one. So he grabbed a basket and made a quick beeline straight for the nearest aisle with medicine.

In even less than the 10 minutes he cited he had a basket filled with flu medicine, more cold compresses, soup broth, and much more. Yes, all of this was absolutely necessary. He didn't care that much about his nemesis, he just wouldn't let an illness make him weak. Nope. That was the only reason. Nothing else. He totally wasn't caring for someone he considered a friend, he didn't have friends, not even Xiaojiao was a-

"Red?"

Crap.

"What are you doing standing in line at a convenience store?" Xiaojiao asked, and as Red turned back to her he saw that she had... some very similar items in her own basket, plus some comics. At his eyes widened in realization she looked down at his own basket and sighed. "... either this is a very interesting coincidence or Xiaotian did something he shouldn't have."

~

Red entered his apartment through the door, the noise rousing the apparently lightly sleeping man on his couch.

"Red? You're back alrea-!?" Xiaotian snapped his mouth shut as he turned his head and opened his eyes to see the wide smiling face of a, clearly to someone who knew her well, angry Xiaojiao. "... I'm in trouble aren't I?"

"Oh you have no idea," she replied lightly, setting down the snacks and books and other assorted items she had purchased while Red made his way into the kitchen with his purchases. "I told you I would be at your apartment with stuff after I finished covering your shift for you, so would you like to explain why Red Son found you nearly passed out in your tuk-tuk half way to the nearest store?"

Though her words were sharp and snappy, it was clear to the listening Red that they were so in genuine concern for her friend. There was a mutter from Xiaotian and a questioning sound from Xiaojiao before the man cleared his throat and repeated himself.

"You already helped me out... I just wanted to try to get that stuff myself so you wouldn't have to do more. I was feeling pretty ok until I drove for a while..."

Ah. So that explained it. Xiaotian had just been going out for medication himself. Not the best idea with a fever of his magnitude, but understandable if he believed he could handle something that simple. Red had begun to wonder if he had been trying to head to Flower Fruit Mountain with bow evasive he was being, but this was a much less disastrous answer.

"Xiaotian, you're my best friend," he heard Xiaojiao say in a much softer tone, and there was the sound of the shuffling on the couch. "I wanted to help you, it didn't matter to me how much it was. I've helped you get to Flower Fruit Mountain and kick demon ass! A delivery shift or two and a convenience store run is something I'd do in a heartbeat. Now open your mouth, I grabbed a thermometer so we can see how bad off you actually are."

There was an agreeable sound and a chuckle, then silence as Red continued what he had been doing. Taking out a dose of medication and preparing something for Xiaotian to eat. Or, rather, drink along side the tea he was also preparing for himself and Xiaojiao. It was little more than chunks of tofu and soup broth with some mild flavoring, something simple and easy to make and eat while sick and-

Red Son held his face in his hands and groaned softly as he waited for the broth to warm. What was he doing? His greatest enemies were in his living room, one sick with fever, and he was preparing medicine and food for him. Frenemies? Only he could defeat them? Is that really what he was telling himself to justify his actions? That they were friend-enemies and they were his to beat?

That was a bold faced lie and he knew it. Had known it for a while. Maybe since he first called Xiaojiao just to speak with someone who would listen to him. Maybe since he first watched her stream in curiosity. Certainly, though, since he accepted being added to the group text she had named "Traffic Light Trio" (really? What kind of name that that?). He would have never done that had he not considered them his friends, he knew that deep down. He just didn't want to admit it (and he super did not want to admit that he maybe felt his own face warm up when they complimented him or that he had butterflies in his stomach the off times they called him by nicknames).

As he turned off the now lightly boiling broth and set it to the side to cool, Red Son began to admit to himself that maybe he was just as much of a dumbass as the Noodle Boy. It seemed that out of the three of them Xiaojiao had firm hold on the only available brain cells when it came to interpersonal relationships.

But that train of thought was not helpful at the moment, so he pushed it down (deeeeeeep down) as he gathered everything up and made his way to the couch again.

The sight that greeted him gave him pause Xiaojiao sitting on the arm of the couch and running a hairbrush through Xiaotian's tangled hair, Xiaotian looking slightly better thanks to the compress against his forehead and smiling softly against the pillows.

There were those butterflies. Oh. Red Son had it bad.

"So?" He asked, drawing their attention to himself as he sat everything on the nearby table. "How bad is it?"

"Not enough to take him to a doctor yet," Xiaojiao answered with a chuckle as she hopped down. "Though I think what you did before helped with that."

Red flushed a bit himself in response, grumbling under his breathe as he shoved the medicine and a cup of water into Xiaotian's hands. "WELL. Take this and. Maybe it’ll stay that way!" He attempted to sound as snappy as normal but the looks on both his guests faces told him he failed miserably in that regard.

"Thanks, Red," Xiaotian said with an earnest smile, and the butterflies were back and Red Son couldn't help the slight sparking of his hair in response.

"Don't mention it. Ever." He grumbled a bit, taking the cup before sighing and helping Xiaotian sit up straighter. "You shouldn't eat half laying down." He maneuvered the pillows to make a little wall between Xiaotian and a space next to the arm of the couch. A space he quickly occupied himself before handing him the bowl of broth over his shoulder. "So you don't have to move more."

The other two looked at each other with surprise on their faces before Xiaojiao smiled and sat on the other arm as they grew silent. Xiaotian eating, Xiaojiao playing on her phone, and Red... well. He tried to look like he was doing something on "his" phone, the one he took from Xiaojiao and replaced the old case with a showy flame covered one. But in reality he was just sitting there staring into space thinking "holy crap this is happening what have I done what happens next oh crap".

"Hey Red?"

"YES!?" He asked far too loud and quick with a squeak in his voice as his hair flared at Xiaotian's words, clearing his throat before repeating himself in a much more appropriate tone (only to earn a giggle from Xiaojiao).

He felt the other man lean back against him, and before he could even begin to fight his flush on his face he heard him chuckle as well. "I appreciate your help."

"L-like I said... don't mention it..."

Xiaotian chuckled again in reply and sighed, leaning completely against Red Son and as he looked over and down he saw his relaxed face and flushed deeper and... it felt nice.

He wondered why he ever pushed down his feelings before.

Xiaojiao grabbed the dishes with a knowing smirk, heading into the kitchen with a few parting words.

"Can you two save the kissing for later? Maybe when Xiaotian isn't sick?"

Both men flushed as deep as they could and sputtered out denials in response, and if that wasn't an indication that Xiaotian maybe felt similarly to Red as Red did to him...

#oh god i must have missed writing them a lot #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #ship fic #mk #qi xiaotian #red son #mei #long xiaojiao #traffic light trio #spicynoodleshipping #chimerashipping #(if you want it to be) #prompt fill

[imagine-lcorp]

Between Two Lungs (One Shot)

A/N: Hello dears, so here it is the infamous fic I’ve been writing. I really hope this fullfils my dream of crushing your hearts once again and that you have a fun time agonizing over this final choice. Because yes, I’ve made this a multiending fic...As always, remember to tell me what you think, is it something you want me to keep doing for other fics? Also, how did you feel after this? pls let me know. Also i made this PLAYLIST if you want to add some feeling to this while reading... Enjoy! 

Lena Luthor x R/Hanahaki AU//Word Count: 3,464

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

It is possible to die of a broken heart.

You look it up somewhere in the internet. It's similar to a heart attack, caused by a very strong and emotionally stressful event. The death of a loved one, a breakup, a betrayal. It's treatable and rarely fatal. Following the recommendations of your doctor, you can make a full recovery within weeks. Still, it is possible to die of it.

You don't have a broken heart. You wish you had one. Because love, the one only you feel, is growing inside of you and it is much worse than that.

Thankfully, compared to others your condition it's not as painful as it could be.

You have heard about people with roses inside them, how their thorns puncture their pharynges with every breath they take. Others don't get flowers. They get apple or cherry trees with their fruits pouring juice inside their lungs and out of their mouths. Some others have pines and spruces, with cones constricting their organs and rib-cages until they bones break.

So you look at the small white petal that lays in your hand and think that, in your case, it is something almost magnanimous.

Plumerias have no thorns and, even though some can be a bit thick, their branches are soft enough to bend around your heart and lungs without much trouble. Their petals, small and delicate, rise easily up your throat without lacerating it in a coughing fit.

Maybe, you want to think in a very optimist way, if you can keep that love from growing further, you won't have to suffer through it.

Maybe.

So you prescribe for your own heart solitude and abstinence.

The first one is the easiest.

You tell your friends you are sick and need some time to recover. Most of them get worried as they don't know yet what illness has fallen upon you in these troublesome times.

"You know, If you wanted, I could get you a full medical examination." Alex offers with a raised eyebrow, giving you the look of the always concerned big sister.

"Thanks, but it's alright." You assure them with a smile. "I was thinking about spending some time at home anyway."

After a lot of questions you manage to dodge in the end, they decide there's no reason to doubt your intentions. So they leave you to your own devices.

Homemade remedies, or herbicides depending on who you ask, seem to help as you spend your days at home. Drinking some salt water with lemon in the morning, or a couple of vinegar tablespoons in a cup of tea before going to bed. They don't taste that bad once you get used to the flavor and these help you ease the new bitterness that you taste in the back of your throat.

The second is a bit harder.

You have to stop yourself from dreaming her, thinking her, missing her.

She has texted you a few times already, wanting to know how you're doing and offering her help if you don't feel like you're doing okay on your own. You handle it as best as you can. You text back, consistently enough and with measured time and words, so you don't raise any red flags. When you don't seem to answer she calls, but just thinking about hearing her voice makes your chest hurt a little.

You never answer. She doesn't try to call again. You spit your first handful of flowers after that.

It's all fine, you lie to yourself, at least until the pain reaches your insides and white petals come out of you mouth dappled in red.

"You need to tell her." Kara says softly as she pats your back after another coughing fit.

You cover your mouth with your hand, making sure there are no signs of blood or petals as you tight it into a fist. "Tell who what?"

"Tell Lena about the flowers." She sighs when she fells you freeze under her touch. "Sorry. Alex told me if I could get a clear shot at your lungs maybe we could figure out how to help. I didn't expect it to be... well, flowers."

It shouldn't come as a surprise to you but you are still amazed at how easy it is to forget Kara has x-ray vision when she's not wearing her suit. With or without it, she's still the same caring and protective person you have always known. It also explains why she has been so adamant about having lunch together, at least once a week, after your failed attempt at convincing her you were doing well after a month alone. You couldn't expect less from your best friend, you remind yourself as you catch your breath.

"How do you know it's her?" The taste is bitter as you swallow the rest of blood and petals in your mouth.

"It's plumerias, isn't it?" She rubs your back again as you regain you posture. "They are her favorites."

There are a couple of red tainted petals in your palm when you open your hand. "Yeah, they are."  

Kara looks at you and you see something in her you don't think you have ever seen before in the Girl of Steel. But you recognize it, because you feel the same way. Hopeless. Helpless. Powerless.

"(Y/N)." She says like she's already grieving. "It's spreading fast."

The easiest way to get ride of the disease is by removing its seed from your heart, the doctor says. No more than an hour in the operating room and your respiratory system would be as good as new. Common symptoms after the surgery can include aches between your shoulder blades, ribs, back of the neck or chest, weakness and hoarseness in your voice, and, in general, some memory loss and the inability to experiment intense or deep affection towards another person. Most of these stop shortly after you recover, except for the last one.

More experimental methods have been developed with the help of biotherapy. Experts in Japan are said to have reduced the spread of the flowers with other plants like kudzu or barberry, while someone in Europe has been using thrips to eat the plant and control its growth. It's like using maggots to eat your wounds, the doctor explains more enthusiastic than you feel.

You could, of course, try the simplest of things and confess your love.

It only takes to be loved in return for you to heal before any permanent damage is done. The seed that grows in your heart will almost instantly wither, the cough will purge the last of the flowers out of your lungs, and your recovery will last only a couple of weeks. You will breathe again.

But, if your love goes unrequited, you'll reach your fatal end in a matter of days. Doctors will give you a double dose of morphine or induce a coma trying to ease your pain. Flowers, fruits and cones bloom, branches and thorns grow. You convulse and gasp until your last breath when the biggest flowers come out of your mouth. All until your thorax is transformed, beautifully and violently, into a garden of flesh and blood.

Anyone who has seen it happen will tell you, how shocking it is to witness such a thing.

Whatever the case, this only serves to confirm what you already know. You can't be optimistic anymore.

You're dying and you will die, soon with flowers in your lungs or after many years with a loveless heart. Because this life and death of yours, you think, cannot be, shall not be, decided by a coin in the air.

And yet.

"It's flowers...in my lungs." You can almost tell which direction the flower stalks take inside your chest as the words form in your mouth.

"Oh." Lena says as she starts to fidget with her hands.

The anger, that had been growing inside her after weeks of vague replies and evasions, vanishes in her eyes the moment she understands what you're going through.

"Have you...talked to the other person?"

"No, not really. Not yet." You try not to lose your composure as you feel the flowers threatening to rise up your throat.  

"Will you?" She asks.

You take a deep breath, feeling the gravity pull your already heavy heart down. "It's plumerias."

"Plumerias?" You can see the moment it dawns on Lena, and the look she gives you makes you wish again you could die of a broken heart instead.

"Miss Luthor, I'm sorry but the board meeting will start shortly."    

Jess opens the door a second later and it gives you time to look at the other side and place your hand in your chest. As if that could possibly stop your heart and lungs from collapsing.

"Thank you, Jess. I'll be there." Lena dismisses her with a nod and looks again at you.

She doesn't say anything else and you feel a coughing fit building in your lungs. Stronger than you have ever felt it.

"(Y/N)!" She leaves her chair, running towards you.

You cover your mouth as your chest feels like a boxer is using it as a punching bag. I doesn't feel like it will end quick and when it finally does the only thing that remains is pain.

You thank the chair that holds you in place as you catch your breath.  

"I'm fine. It's fine." You don't want her to see it, but she manages to catch a glimpse of the bloody petals that cover your palm once you recover.

"No, it's not, (Y/N). You're dying and I-"

"It's not your fault." You cut her off, shaking your head and taking a little napkin from you pocket to clean yourself as best as you can.

The death, the break, the betrayal. You feel it all as worry and pity finally merge in her eyes. There's also guilt when she looks at you. It is there along with everything else she doesn't feel for you. So you don't want an apology, especially not from her, especially not like this.  

"You're my friend and I just- I wanted you to know. I got my surgery already programmed."

"Surgery?" You watch her draw back a bit in surprise.

"I'll be fine." You lie again.

"(Y/N), I-"                            

"Miss Luthor, the board-"

"I know!" Lena snaps and, when she realizes the magnitude of her reaction, she retracts, taking a deep breath for herself before answering. "Sorry, yes. Do you think you could hold it for a minute?"

"You should go." You say with a small voice before any of them can say more. "The meeting, sounds important."

"(Y/N)..." The way she pronounces your name makes you want to be over with this already. You just can't stand it anymore.

"We'll talk later." You say. "We got time."

She wants to argue, you know, but you won't, can't, do it. Still, you pull a little smile for her.

"We'll talk later." She replies with a nod.

There will be time for another conversation. There will be time. There will be time. There will be time. You repeat it like a mantra to help you carry yourself out of her office.

Everything else after that passes like a blur.

You know you reach the front door of the building, with the voice of the receptionist behind your back offering to call for help. You stumble on the sidewalk trying to hold onto light poles and signposts to keep yourself from falling. You clutch your hand in your chest as the pain reaches its peak. Flowers come pouring out of your mouth and you gasp for air as you finally fall.

You're delirious by the time you land on the hospital bed.

Many faces come and go then, doctors, nurses, friends, ghosts, both the living and the death. The only constants are your dying gasps and the painful beating of your heart until the morphine does its work. It helps you see, with certain clarity the only face that can make a difference.

"You listen to me, alright? I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier." You open your heavy lids at the sound of her voice, and you see those emerald eyes for what could be the last time. "I love you, (Y/N), please, I love you."

You hear her words, or you don't, or it is simply to late to care anymore. The coin is in the air and there's no more time.

***

☞ You let yourself drift into darkness as the plumerias are pulled to a better light. The garden is gone and what is left behind is only an empty carcass. You cannot stand the emptiness and your heart does what it should have done from the beginning. It breaks and breaks and breaks...

***

☞ Your mind tries to grasp her words but you find your heart too weak to keep a hold of them. So you let them pass through like a shadow. No need for them anymore as the anesthesia and the scalpel give you a break from all this suffering. There will be no flowers and it is, truly, not as bad as it could be...

***

☞ Her words suddenly hit you in their full meaning and your mind does its best to keep and save them into your heart. Even through branches and petals, it has the effect of an echo chamber, repeating those words like a healing prayer. I love you. I love you. I love you...

#Between Two Lungs #One shot #lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor imagines #lena luthor x you #lena x reader #lena x you

[dontcare77ghj]

Leisure Sickness

Natasha x reader x Tony x Steve

Leisure sickness is defined as a psychological condition in which people, read workaholics, can become ill when given time off.

Leisure sickness's symptoms can include headaches, nausea, insomnia, and vomiting.

These symptoms quickly became synonymous with Steve, Natasha, Y/N, and Tony whenever they went on vacation.

The four of you had decided that you'd had enough with the media and the general public for this season. It seemed as if everyone had an opinion on the team, and you were all sick of it.

So Steve had pitched the idea of the four of you going on vacation for a couple of weeks. 

It had been a lot of back and forth before the four of you came to a decision that you were all happy with. 

The four of you would take three weeks off from the world unless it was about to end and stay at a house on Tony's private island.

"This place is massive. I'm pretty sure I've been lost for the last hour." You said, entering the kitchen where Natasha and Steve were putting groceries away. 

"You've been gone ten minutes, doll." Steve chuckled, stocking the fridge full of drinks.

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure it's been an hour." You commented, taking a seat on the counter. "Are we sure time doesn't work differently here?"

"How much coffee have you had?" Natasha asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

"I had two cups on the plane." You told her honestly. 

"You mean the cups that were basically soup bowls?" Steve clarified.

"I drank whatever was served to me." You shrugged. 

"We're going to talk about that later," Natasha said, pointing a finger at you. "But first, can you find Tony? We haven't seen him since we got here."

"Sure. I've explored a lot of this place. I should be able to find him." You shrugged, jumping off the counter.

"Alright, we'll see you in an hour," Steve said, receiving the middle finger from you. 

To be fair, Steve might have been pretty spot on. To explore just the ground floor took you about twenty minutes, and there were still two floors, both with dozens of rooms each, to search. 

"What's behind door number nineteen?" You mumbled, pulling open your nineteenth door, you'd been counting, to reveal another bathroom. 

Except this one held your Tony. A Tony who wasn't looking so good.

"Tones?" You asked quietly, moving to kneel beside the empty bathtub Tony was occupying. "What's wrong, hon?" 

"Just a bit of a headache," Tony mumbled. 

"And you're in the bathtub because?"

"It's nice and cool," Tony told you, keeping his eyes closed.

"Okay, how about you stay here, and I'll get you something for your head?" You suggested, gently brushing hair off his forehead.

"Thank you," Tony mumbled, leaning his head back once more.

"Couldn't you find him?" Steve asked when you reentered the kitchen.

"No, I found him." You told him, beginning to look through the cupboards. "Hauled up in a bathtub with a raging headache. Did we pack any Tylenol?"

"Here," Natasha said, throwing it to you. "I thought he looked a little pale on the plane." She commented.

"He was fine before we got on the plane, though," Steve mentioned. "You think it's an extreme form of jetlag?"

"Could be. It could also be the fact that Tony's not looked after himself at all the past week." You said. "He's been working himself to the bone. His body probably doesn't understand what's going on."

"So we should expect him to feel worse." Natasha deduced. "I'll make something to settle his stomach." She nodded to herself.

"And I'll deliver this." You said, shaking the pills. 

"I'll come with you. I imagine the bathtub's not that comfortable, and Tony might not want to walk to the bedroom." Steve said, moving to follow you. 

"Has death finally come for me?" Tony asked when the two of you made your way back to him.

"Not yet, Tones." You told him, kneeling in the same place as before.

"And not for a long time," Steve added, bending beside you.

"Ugh, I really thought it was him that time." Tony sighed before cracking his eyes open. "Did you bring the good stuff?"

"I did." You nodded, dosing out two of the tablets and handing them to him. "Give me a second, and I'll get you some water." You said, rising to stand, but Tony took the two dry. "That's disgusting."

"Water's for bitches." Tony grunted before closing his eyes again. 

"Come on, Tony, let's get you to bed," Steve said to him. 

"Too much work." Tony denied before Steve picked him up. "Woah! Give a man a little warning." Tony grumbled as Steve chuckled quietly. 

"Asking's for bitches." You teased, walking in front of the two and opening doors.

"Get some rest, Tony," Steve said, putting onto the bed and pulling the covers over him.

"I'll shut my eyes for a few minutes, and I'll be fine," Tony mumbled, rolling over onto his side.

It didn't even take Tony another minute before he was fast asleep.

The next time the four of you decided to go on vacation, you'd decided to go a bit more touristy. 

The four of you were in London for two weeks and would be spending your days visiting every popular tourist attraction. It was your second day in London, the first dedicated to sleeping off the jetlag, and you would soon be leaving the house.

At least you would be if you could settle your stomach.

Your stomach had been churning all night, and no matter what, you couldn't stop it. You'd managed to crawl into the bathroom and not wake anyone, but now you were stuck on the floor.

"Sweetheart? Y/N?" You could hear your name being called. "Y/N, where are you?" 

The bathroom door opened, but you couldn't lift your head from its position.

"Found her," Natasha called before walking over to you. "You look like shit, med," Natasha said, placing a hand on your back.

"Nice, real nice." You groaned, lifting your head slightly. "Just give me a minute to get up and get dressed, and we can get going." 

"The only place you're going is back to bed," Natasha told you as Steve and Tony entered the bathroom.

"Doll, are you okay?" Steve questioned you.

"I'm fine. I just need help getting up. And maybe getting dressed." You told him.

"Y/N, you are sick," Natasha said firmly.

"Nu-uh, I haven't thrown up yet." You denied.

"You don't look too far off from it, babe," Tony informed you. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know. It was still dark when I came in." You grunted before dry heaving, but nothing would come up.

"Okay, Steve, would you please get some ginger ale?" Natasha asked, pulling your hair off your face. "Y/N, when was the last time you ate?"

"Not sure."

"Okay, add some saltines to that order too, Steve," Natasha told him.

"Do you honestly not remember the last time you ate?" Tony asked, coming to sit next to Natasha.

"I was working on that paperwork for Nick until the minute we left." You mumbled. "Forgot to eat."

"And that's most likely why you're feeling like crap now." Natasha hummed. "Do you think you'll be okay if we get you back to bed?"

"Just leave me here to perish." You groaned.

"No can do, you're stuck with us," Tony said as he helped Natasha pull you to your feet.

"Sorry I ruined vacation." You whimpered as you were laid in bed.

"You didn't ruin anything, med," Natasha promised, brushing hair from your forehead. "Not at all."

"We still have time before we have to go home." Tony soothed your guilty conscience. "There's plenty of time to do all the touristy bullshit your little heart desires."

"Yay." You moaned, curling into a ball.

It was a long time before the four of you were able to go on another vacation. 

Missions had begun to become back to back and would last weeks, Tony was forced to travel for SI, and Fury seemed to have an unhealthy attachment to long meetings.

It was after Natasha had been on a mission for two months, Tony had been in Japan for one month, and you and Steve had endured countless hours in the hands of Fury that Steve declared you all needed a vacation. 

Steve had literally googled relaxing vacations before deciding upon Brittany, France. 

Though Steve had argued with Fury, for what felt like days, Steve was only able to barter a week off for the four of you.

"Tony, why do you have more bags than me?" You asked as Steve attempted to play Tetris with your luggage.

"I like to have options, dear," Tony said, pulling his sunglasses on. "Never know when one of those parasites are going to spot me."

"Don't call reporters parasites." Steve chided.

"Are we ready to go yet?" Natasha asked, pulling on a jacket despite it being a warm day. "The plane is going to leave soon."

"Just one more bag, and we can get going," Steve told her, picking up a small suitcase.

"Can I once again point out how ridiculous that is? I own the plane. It should wait for me." Tony scoffed, climbing into the car with Natasha right behind him. 

The four of you faced no more problems until halfway through the flight. Natasha had jumped from her seat, startling the three of you from your half-asleep states, and bolted into the plane's bathroom. 

It was seconds before the sounds of retching filled the plane. 

"Tash?" Steve asked as the three of you stood up.

"I'm good." Natasha choked out. "Get away from the door, Steven."

"How'd she know it was only me?" Steve grumbled, walking back over to you and Tony.

"Spy, Steven!"

Natasha stayed in the bathroom for another seven minutes exactly. When she exited, her skin was flushed, she was covered in a thick layer of sweat, and she was shivering violently. 

"FRI give me Nat's temperature," Tony demanded as you rushed to pull Natasha to a chair.

"101.3, boss," FRIDAY informed you all.

"Shit, Nat," Steve swore. "How long have you been running a fever?"

"Not running a fever." Natasha denied, lounging back in the chair and pulling her jacket closer.

"101.3 is a fever, Tash." You said, pulling her jacket off. "We might have to get you to a hospital." 

"How long until we land, FRI?" 

"Three hours, boss." 

"We're going to have to bring her temperature down ourselves," Steve said, grabbing a towel and dumping his iced water on it.

By the time the plane landed, the three of you had successfully managed to bring Natasha's temperature down. 

The four of you emerged from the plane, Natasha cradled in Steve's arms.

"That was probably the most stressful start to a vacation," Tony commented as you all entered a waiting car. "Let's get you to a hospital, hey, Nat?"

The four of you stayed away from vacations for a long time after that incident. Not because you were all slightly traumatized but because life seemed to pick up its pace once more.

It had been a year and a half since Natasha had a raging fever, and now the four of you were on yet another getaway. 

Except for this time, it was for new reasons.

The four of you had had a commitment ceremony just two days ago, the Asgardian equivalent of a polyamorous wedding. 

It had been a long time coming and a lot of planning, but it was worth it. And it had meant everything to you all.

Now the four of you were on your honeymoon in Tony's rebuilt Malibu home. 

"Do you think we'd get in trouble if we moved here?" Natasha asked, pulling her sunglasses down.

"From who? We're all adults. Who would we get in trouble with?" Tony asked her.

"Fury. The government. The news. The world." You listed off. 

"At the end of the day, how much do they really matter?" Tony shrugged, pulling you onto his lap. 

"You would avoid Nick?" Natasha asked, quirking a brow. 

"The pirate doesn't scare me." Tony shook his head as you and Natasha grinned. "Don't tell him I said that." 

Before either of you could respond, the sound of footsteps coming closer caused you all to look up.

Steve was staggering over to the poolside, looking very much worse for wear.

"Jesus, Stevie, how many laps did you do?" Natasha asked as Steve stole her water and gulped it down.

"One." Steve gasped. "I felt like I was going to pass out, so I quit."

"Jesus Christ, sit down, Steve." You ordered, standing and moving over to the blonde. "You are really pale." You tsked, holding his head in your hands. 

"That's the Irish in him." Tony joked, now standing behind you with Natasha at his side. 

"When was the last time you slept?" You asked, running your finger over the prominent dark circles.

"The wedding night." Steve sighed. "I haven't been able to sleep since."

"You're exhausted, Steve." Natasha pointed out. "You can't run on willpower alone."

"I know that, but I physically can't make myself sleep," Steve told her. "I don't know what it is, but I can't."

"Maybe it's because you're trying to force yourself to sleep instead of allowing yourself to." Tony reasoned. 

"Why did you get all philosophical?" Steve asked him. 

"Always have been. Let's get you to bed, Cap." Tony said, helping Steve to his feet. With a bit of maneuvering, the three of you were able to move the bulky super soldier to your large bed and put him under the covers.

"Stay, please," Steve mumbled, already half asleep. 

"Always, Stevie." You said as the three of you crawled in beside your Steve.

Vacations could always be stressful, but it seemed for the four of you it was always amplified. Especially when someone always managed to get sick.

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[cherry-draws]

[Yiga Husband Fanfic] Poisonus plan

I am super happy to see people liking my previous story "Fantasy Night" so here's an other one featuring our dear Master Kohga.

Kohga woke up with a severe headache and felt as though he had just come out of a long sleep. Although he spent most of his time napping, this was the first time it happened to him. Just curling his fingers hurt him. Despite the pain, the leader of the yiga clan managed to sit up and open his eyes. Looking around the room, his heart skipped a beat.

"Kohga: Where am I ? This is not my room. "

A bitter taste in his throat made the pronunciation of the words unbearable. Kohga sank down heavily on the mattress, breathing heavily. A smell of sweat reached his nostrils, indicating that he had sweated a lot during the night, something that didn't happen often either. Someone suddenly entered the room, which made him jump, but his aching body prevented him from turning around.

"? : Hello, Master Kohga, how are you feeling?

Kohga: Who are you?

? : What, you don't recognize me ? Lord, this is more serious than I thought.

Kohga: What are you talking about?

? : Master, you have fallen terribly ill and it seems that the moments of lucidity are scarce.

Kohga: Wait, are you saying that I'm going insane ?

? : But not at all, no. You are in pain, Master. You have a fever, an excruciating cough, you don't want to eat any more, not even a piece of banana. For the safety of our colleagues we have preferred to isolate you in this makeshift infirmary, to “quarantine” you, if you prefer. I understand that you may not like it, but we are afraid that the disease is contagious. I was formerly a practitioner of medicine before joining the clan, and you allowed me to practice my practices in case anyone get sick. It wasn't what I wanted at first, but the circumstances required my intervention.

Kohga: I can't believe it, I don't remember anything! I just feel very tired. Besides, if you could let me sleep, that would suit me.

Doctor: I have come to take you to the consultation room. My colleague needs to examine you to see the state of your health and give you your treatment. Come on, please. "

Kohga stood up painfully, feeling stiff in his muscles. The doctor helped him to walk by taking his arm. Even though the drive to the office was relatively short, it was enough to intensify the yiga's feeling of fatigue, who found it difficult to keep his eyes open. Once there, Kohga stretched out painfully on the table as a second doctor appeared before him. He was wearing a large white overall over his suit.

“Doctor 2: Hello Master Kohga. I apologize for forcing you to move in your state, but this is where we store all the required equipment. Describe to me your health state.

Kohga: Well ... "

No other word could come out of his mouth. His mind sank into a deep sleep.

Later that he woke up, and this time he forced himself to keep his eyes open behind his mask. Listening, he managed to hear the doctors talking to each other.

"Doctor 1: Are you sure this will work? He still looks sharp enough to ask questions.

Doctor 2: But you saw him go into a coma, right? In a short time, it will be just a half-alive vegetable, it will no longer be a problem!

Doctor 1: Don't speak that loud, you fool, he will hear us!

Doctor 2: So you do ! There is no risk, I tell you, with the doses that he was injected it should prevent him from moving. Once we're done with him ... "

He didn't have time to finish his sentence. His face received a violent punch and his body fell to the ground under the astonished eyes of his teammate.

“Doctor 1: Ah, I was right!

Kohga: WHO ARE YOU? And why do you want to poison me ?!

Doctor 1: Master Kohga, please, you are starting to lose your mind again! Go back to bed, I beg you, you will hurt yourself!

Kohga: No! I'm not crazy, on the other hand you two, you really think I'm a fool! I heard all your little conversation and I know you want to kill me! I don't know why you are after me, but I know what I heard!

Doctor 1: No, you are wrong! It is the fever that makes you hear voices, we do not want any harm, we are not ...

Kohga: My soldiers! You are not my soldiers, you are impostors! Now prepare yourselves ! "

Kohga raised his arms above his head to generate a giant ball. No matter how hard he was concentrated, nothing happened.

"Doctor 2: Don't use your powers, it will tire you out!"

Kohga resigned himself to use magic and decided to strike his opponents directly with his fists. Once the two individuals were on the ground, he fled. His chubby legs hurt him, but he refused to slow down, he had to flee, find refuge, but where? The place did not look like the hideout at all. It was not the hidehout. It was a place made of corridors, a sort of labyrinthine dojo.

"Kohga: But where am I going to go? I'm lost, I'm alone, but where are my soldiers when I need them? If I call for help, they will find me ... "

The leader of the yiga clan then attempted to teleport, but each of his attempts ended in failure. Due to his condition, he could no longer use his powers. He ran, feeling his breath diminish, until he came to a closed room where he rushed into it, pressing his back against the door.

"Kohga: I can't stay here forever, I have to ..."

The migraine suddenly erupts, forcing him to hold his head in his hands. The pain felt gave him the impression that each of his neurons was bursting one after the other. His body stiffened, and fell heavily to the ground.

When Kohga regained consciousness, he was unable to move, and his limbs were still numb. His body seemed to rock on its own, but he realized that someone was holding him in his arms. Although unaware of the identity of its wearer, his body emanated a familiar kind of warmth, inspiring a sense of security. When the individual looked up at him, Kohga recognized him immediately behind his mask.

"? : Shhh, don't be afraid. It's me, Sooga.

Kohga: Finally you're here! But what the hell happened !? I ... Get me out of this hell!

Sooga: I beg you, calm down, I'll tell you everything. You have been the victim of a kidnapping. I and the other soldiers searched for you for days, we get up early in the morning and come home exhausted at night. We entered this abandoned place and it is there that I found you. Don't be afraid, I will warn the others and we will go home.

? : I don't think so ! "

Sooga distraught, turned and faced the two individuals in white overall, both holding a syringe in their hand. Three other doctors also appeared.

“Sooga: You ... You will pay for what you dared to do!

Doctor 1: I advise you to return your boss to us immediately, otherwise we'll make you regret your decision ! You are alone, you cannot defend yourself, no one can help you! "

The enemies advanced until they surrounded the two yigas. Sooga hugged his master as tightly as he could in his muscular arms, like a mother seeking to protect her newborn baby.

"Kohga: Sooga, do something!"

Doctor 2: If you try anything ... "

The chief suddenly stiffened, his face froze and he fell, lifeless. A sturdy figure appeared behind him. The yiga blademaster who had knocked him out stabbed his sword into the medic's body, leaving the others in shock.

"Blademaster: Who told you he came by himself eh? Who do you thinks we are? "

Three other blademasters and five footsoldiers appeared simultaneously in a bunch of smoke, around the medics, helpless in front of the sharp blades which pointed in their direction. In an instant, they were all dead. Only one was spared. It was the one Kohga had first met.

"Footsoldier : Now you'll listen to me, you scumbag.You better tell us what your plan was, why you attacked our boss. Otherwise, it's not death that awaits you, it's worse. We will harass you until you crack, burn your stuff, kill your family like we killed your friends, torture you until you speak ...

Doctor 1: I surrender! I am going to tell you ! We wanted to get rid of you once and for all. But we knew that with so many soldiers we couldn't reach you so we devised a strategic plan: thanks to our science, Sheikah technology and a poison specially made by us, we were able to kidnap and drugging your boss, which wasn't difficult given his great weakness. We suspected that you would flip every pebble back to Hyrule to find it, and patiently waited for one of you to be stupid enough to come here alone, but we didn't expect you all to come !

Footsoldier: It's the proof that you don't know anything about the yiga clan, and if you had been a little more cooperative you could have gotten to know us. It's a shame, but hey that's how it is. Goodbye ! "

The edge of a blade against the flesh of was heard. The man fell to the ground, his throat was bleeding.

A few days later.

Life began to turn back to normal in the yiga hideout. Kohga, extremely weakened, had spent several days reclusive in his room, his rare moments of awakening were when Sooga brought him his treatment against the poison. Thanks to the knowledge in medicinal plants of certain members, the effects of the poison could be definitively eradicated. After a week, the leader of the yigas was almost cured, and continued to gain strength.

Sooga silently entered his master's bedroom, who had just opened his eyes.

"Sooga: Didn't I wake you up?

Kohga: No, not at all. Come closer. Sit on the bed. "

Sooga was surprised by thoses words, and, despite the embarrassment he felt, he could not refuse his proposal and ended up sitting down.

"Kohga: Sooga ... How could I thank you, while without you, I wouldn't be here? You risked your life, our soldiers too.

Sooga: I never would have done it without their help. Alone, I would have failed. But this is all over now. The main thing is that we are safe and sound. The blademasters will tighten up security so any infiltration incidents will happen again.

Kohga: Sooga ...

Sooga: Something wrong?

Kohga: Sooga, lie down for a moment.

Suppa: But I can't...

Kohga: I don't want to be alone anymore and the bed is big enough for both of us. Come on, don't make me say it twice. "

Sooga finally accepted and lay down, hiding the fact that he was blushing behind his mask. His heartbeat quickened as Kohga snuggled up against him.

"Kohga: You deserve to take some rest too.

Sooga: Yes, Master. "

#my fanfiction #one shot #age of calamity #aoc sooga #botw aoc #loz aoc #sooga age of calamity #sooga #sooga x kohga #kohga x sooga #kohga #master kohga #yiga clan #yiga husbands #yaoi fanfic #poisonus plan