EOS黒

"I am cooking for our special dinner." 

"Ch'acah..." You can hear his disapproval, "I told you to call a caterer. The term is very close." 

"I am pregnant, not useless!" You sigh. 

"You are about to give birth, and you are touching heavy raw pieces of meat and standing before hot ovens." 

"I take regular breaks and freshen up often." You retort, "It's just cooking, I am not about to lose the baby, I-Ah!" You laugh, but are shortly cut off by a powerful kick. 

"Are you all right, Ch'acah?" Thrawn immediately asks. 

"Ye-Yes... I'm fine! Phew! She is very energetic." You chuckle through the pain, "I am going to lie down for a short moment." You explain, taking a deep breath. 

“I am rushing home. Do you want me to call the emergency services?” Thrawn asks as you can hear his engine roaring in the background. 

Surely he decided to use his Grand Admiral privilege and cut the line to rush to you. 

“No... No, it was just a kick. I feel better already.” You breathe through your nose. “Jeez, she is moving inside... Ah!” Again, your daughter decides to kick you in your stomach, cutting your respiration. 

“I am calling the emergency services immediately. Leave the kitchen and go lie down, Ch’acah. I am here in a minute.” Your husband promises. 

“You’re worrying too much, she-” 

“I am coming home immediately.” And he hangs up. 

You take support on your counter to breathe in and out deeply. Ouch... She really is hurting you right now! 

You head, carefully, to the bathroom to freshen up, and then you will lie down on your bed to wait for Thrawn. 

You splash water on your face to try and relax when another kick, devastating, echoes in your stomach, making you grit your teeth in pain 

Is... Is it time already...?! 

You have your answer when you feel a liquid starting to drip all over your legs uncomfortably, soiling your expensive dress you bought just for that holiday with Thrawn! 

Your water broke! 

You gasp, panic seizing you. You... You need to tell Thrawn! And call the emergency services! And... And... Where is your comlink?! 

You left it in the kitchen. 

You take one step to leave the bathroom, but you are immediately stopped by a wave of unbearable pain, stopping you dead in your tracks, and when you look down, you can already see blood on your legs, pearling on the tiles. 

You grab the bathroom sink with a gasp of pain, a hand on your swollen tummy, feeling your baby wriggling inside of you, preparing herself to come into the world at last. 

She could have at least waited for you to be at the clinic! 

You can’t ponder this thought any longer; a new wave of pain forces you to your knees. You try to calm down and breathe, and sit down in a somewhat comfortable position, when pain ripples through your flesh as your daughter pushes. 

You sit on the cold tiles, regretting having chosen such a form-fitting dress just to appear at your best for your husband, now you feel caged and compressed all around. Thrawn warned you, he told you to buy a loose dress, but noooooo, you wanted to parade in front of him! 

And now you reap what you sow!  

You pull on the fabric to be able to grab the hem of the cute dress and rip the seam open, but it is so tight you feel you only put more pressure on your belly, and Maker knows neither you nor your daughter needs more pressure right now! 

You try to breathe the best you can, trying to spread your legs as wide as you can, but you are impaired by your goddamn dress. 

This is not the most optimum setting to give birth, and certainly not the setting you thought you would be in for your first baby. 

You wince and grit your teeth when a new wave of pain spreads through your southern region, putting you to your knees. In your confusion, you manage to grab a towel that you put in your mouth and bite down the hardest you can! 

The towel swallows your screams as your daughter keeps going down, absolutely tearing you apart! 

Is that... What giving birth really is?  

The pain, the fear, the stress, the confusion, the tension! 

Is that what all women feel when they give birth? 

Is that what ties you to the very first women alive, giving birth in pain and in blood without any certainty that you or your baby will survive the ordeal?

If... If you give birth on your bathroom floor and something is wrong with your baby... 

Will she survive that night? 

That sudden realization hits you hard at the same time as a new punch in your ribcage, earning a scream from you.

You always thought you would have the comfort of an epidural while you're giving birth, but again, you always thought you would give birth in a hospital or clinic and not on your own floor!

You can… Feel… her.

All her movements

How she turns and struggles and moves her limbs inside your vulnerable core.

You try to focus on your breathing and pushing at the same time as her, but oh Maker, this is so painful and exhausting, you are already drenched in sweat, and your dress is now ruined beyond any repair.

You feel tears pushing behind your eyes as you push with all your might.

This is…

This is such a trial!

This is so painful!

This is so hard!

How could you ever do that again?

Thrawn and you spoke of having several children, but you might need to put your veto on that option now!

Another scream escapes your mouth when she keeps descending, tearing your soft muscles and delicate flesh. The towel swallows most of the sound, but surely the neighbors must hear something !?

Oh Maker, help!

Ma-

"Ch'acah?! I am here! Where are you Ch'acah?!" Thrawn's voice booms across the entire apartment, and you hear him opening doors to find you.

"Th… Thrawn! Ch'acah…!" You take off the towel to pitifully call for him.

He enters the expensive bathroom immediately, and he seems to freeze for a split second when he discovers you slouching against the bathtub on the cold tile, blood and amniotic fluid everywhere in the worst state he has ever seen you.

He immediately snaps out of his stupor and jumps to his knees in front of your spread legs to help.

"I called the emergency services, they are on route!" He lets you know, "How many seconds between each of your contractions?"

"I… I… I…" You gulp, overwhelmed by everything, but relieved your husband is finally here with you, "I do not know…"

"Try to focus on it and time your breathing with them, like the midwife taught us. I am here now, Ch'acah, we are going to make it!" He tells you in the eyes like he was preparing all his life for such a thing.

But his gaze is so straight and assured, how could you ever doubt Thrawn?

"O-Okay…!" You nod, gulping.

He takes out his vibroblade and slits your expensive dress open, releasing a lot of external pressure on your belly, at last allowing you to take a big breath.

"Spread your legs wider, take support on your elbows, and tell me when the next contractions arrive." He orders, getting rid of his white jacket that he throws out without management, kneeling in his white pants in a pool of blood.

He does not care.

He is only focused on you and your baby.

"The-they are very close…!" You warn him, feeling a new wave of pain approaching.

"Do not wait for me and push."

You take three breaths, and a new wave crashes upon you, making you scream all that you have, but this is just so painful! You feel like your stomach will burst open and all your guts will spread on the cold floor with your whining baby.

"Push Ch'acah, push! I can see the head!" He lets you know, encouraging you in the small ways he can.

"It's so painful…! I feel like I'm dying…!'' You cry big tears, wet with sweat and blood.

"I know, Ch'acah. But you are not going to die on me. You will survive this for us 3. Push, my love!"

You grit your teeth and give it your all, losing your goddam mind in the debilitating pain.

This is worse than anything you've ever lived through!

Suddenly, a second scream pierces your ears, and it is not one of yours.

"The head is out, Ch'acah! Keep going, you are so close!"

"I… I can't…!" You whine, at the end of your rope.

If you had an epidural it would be less exhausting, but you do not have that luxury!

"Of course you can, love. You are a warrior! You will live through this. You have done 50% of the work, keep going! You are doing great!" He encourages you, and you can hear the excitement to meet his baby at last piercing through the sternness and calmness of his tone.

You roll your hands into fists and push one last time, screaming from the depths of your lungs.

And…

You feel a huge weight passing through and with it a spike of pain, and suddenly… it is over.

You look at the ceiling for some seconds, gathering what it happening in your life lately, when baby cries brings you back to reality. You rise on your elbows and discover your Chiss holding a baby in his arms.

Your baby.

Your daughter.

He looks at her, mouth agape like all the words were escaping him, but with infinite softness in his red, shining gaze.

She cries and shines and struggles in his embrace, but her holds her firmly to not drop her.

"Oh… my Maker…" You gasp, incredulous, "It's… It's her…"

"Hello, little one…" He whispers at her, caressing her plump cheeks with his knuckles delicately, "I am beyond relieved to finally meet you, Ch'eo Keten."

He grabs his vibroblade with one hand and cuts the umbilical cord, before looking at you with shiny eyes.

"You did it, Ch'acah…" He manages to say, thoroughly humbled to meet his baby, "My warrior… There she is at last…"

He circles your shoulders and presses you against his chest, laying her on top of you.

You gasp, all words escaping you too, when you see your little blue baby wriggling her little body on your chest like that, so full of energy already.

"Oh… Oh my… Maker." And you break into tears again.

But this time, those are tears of joy and relief.

Your daughter is here!

With you!

She is alive!

You are both alive!

You circle her fragile body with your tired arms to hug and cradle her tight.

Your daughter is here…

"Hello, you… Hello, my baby…" You smile through the tears, the pain already forgotten and behind you. "Shhhh…. Shhhhh… We are here with you now… Together…"

Thrawn cradles you both in his embrace, laying his cheek on top of your head, his gaze fixed on his darling baby

"Together." He approves.

You remain like that for a little moment, enchanted by the magic of that eternal instant, when the doorbell rings suddenly.

"The emergency services." Thrawn announces, "They will take you in charge. Everything is going to be all right now."

"I know." You smile, caressing the head of your baby, "I know…"

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @thrawnspetgoose @thrawnalani @twilekchiss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @obbicrystaleo @elise2174 @davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @princesslunamoon19 @janjtje @helrose8 @debonaire_princess @courier-jackalope @ghostedgrim @haruthe1andonly

Doesn't believe in the supernatural despite the horrors

Looks like Poirot. Character concept started as what if Poirot was dumb as fuck

And a terrible man

His strengths include fishing photography skincare and accounting

In his 50s

Adopted the 30 year old son of one of his old fishing friends, said son being half horror and looking like "a squirrel"

Had a crush on said old fishing friend because he's only bisexual in a fishing context

Divorced

Never caught a single fish man is really mid at this

A pharmacist but his hobby is sexy daguerreotypes of himself

Keeps copies of said daguerreotypes in his pockets along with some morphine

First strategy in case of danger is to play dead

Bougie

Never used first aid on anyone but himself

A day in Gotham felt like forever. Trudging through the rain as you clutched onto your umbrella - your lifeline through the horrendous tears of disgruntled beings above. Dodging through the crowds of people that swarmed the streets as soon as shifts at work finished, rushing to get home as soon as possible.

You, too, had your own agenda to fulfil. Your own loved one(s?) to return to, with a bag of groceries tumbling about in one hand as you bumbled onto the subway - tucking yourself into the tin packed tight with as many humans as possible.

It's not a long journey, the way home. But it is tedious and you find yourself awfully aware of just how much your shoulders hurt as you drag yourself out of the carriage once you finally get to your stop.

From here, it's just a short walk up to his apartment, and then the slow elevator ride up as you ignore your soaked tights and ruined shoes.

Floor 9. DING!

As if the ride up was not long enough, today of all days was the day when everyone suddenly had the need to ride the elevator - great! Absolutely wonderful, you think, as you force a smile at the man that presses himself into a corner. Neither you nor him make any kind of conversation, watching the floors slowly climb up, one by one.

Floor 17. DING!

"Tim! Don't run - wait for me! Sorry, sorry!"

A mother rushes in behind her young son, who stops just short of stepping on your toes, only to look up at you with the sweetest, widest eyes ever. His little bowl cut grows slightly into his eyes, and a pacifier threatens to drop out of his mouth. As his mother collects her belongings, picking the ground floor to (eventually) travel to, his hand rests on your leg.

You do not stop him, because the pleading look in his mother's eyes for just a moment of peace is more than enough to feel bad for her.

And so begins again the slow ride up.

Floor 55. DING!

In walks a woman with an incredibly wide hat - almost getting stuck in the door itself! A thick fur drapes over her body, and she pulls off her sunglasses as she walks into the elevator. Her heels click with every step she makes, and in her bag a small pomeranian barely peeks out.

She quietly presses her number, before standing in the middle of the elevator. Little Timmy's attention is now split between yourself and her, and she cannot help but to lower to her knees and play with the little toddler.

All as you pray this elevator ride does not stop anywhere else! The heat seems to rise with every added passenger, a wet humidity coating the metal walls around you. All you want is to strip out of your work clothes, and to collapse onto a bed. Any bed.

Floor 90. DING!

Finally! You push past the people that have now filled the elevator, fishing out the key in your pocket. Twisting it to the right as you lift it up, because even the door had its own little thing you had to work with. Walking inside, you drop your umbrella off one side, bag somewhere else and slump down onto the nearest couch - allowing yourself a moment of rest. He wouldn't come home until much later, giving you plenty of time to take things slow tonight. At least the penthouse was still clean from your joint efforts last night.

On the other side of dear old Gotham, Harvey Dent sits in an office.

Bored.

He huffs and puffs away, twirling in his chair as he awaits yet another dull meeting with the Penguin tonight. As he properly takes in his surroundings - a dusty office, with nothing but the desk he sits at and three office chairs (one of which he has firmly planted himself upon) to decorate it and the doom and gloom of Gotham peering in through the window - a thought occurs to him.

Why the fuck don't they just meet in a coffee shop?

The benefits are clear as day, obviously:

a) coffee, b) who the fuck is gonna swindle their partner out of a sketchy deal at a coffee shop? c) no dust, and therefore no allergies, d) he'd be home by now. Head resting in your lap as he'd grumble on about his day.

See? So many more benefits to meeting in a coffee shop over a stupid, dusty, old office! He sighs, pinching his nose as he leans back, letting the cool moonlight touch his face. If he were here, describing this, he'd use words such as "ugly", "wretched" or "revolting".

But he knows that if you were here, you'd cradle his face in your soft hands, pulling him closer as you stared so intently, humming softly as your hands would work their magic over his face. Tension dissolving under your fingertips as you'd murmur words such as "ethereal", "beautiful" or "my everything".

To this day, he still wasn't quite sure how he had ever kept you around. Or why you had kept him around, actually. You could have had anyone. But you chose him, above all else.

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic jam an' all that."

Cobblepot's voice cut into Harvey's daydreams, eliciting a sharp frown on the man's face as he spun back round to face his business partner.

"Traffic. Jam. You make me wait two hours for your traffic jam?"

"Can't help it mate, ya know how Gotham is!"

"Gotham rains. Gotham pours. Gotham is dark and gloomy and depressing but traffic jams? At this time of evening?"

"…yeah?"

"Cobblepot."

"Dent."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Fine, fine, there was an… issue."

"An issue?"

"The kid! The one that does stupid tricks and skips and then puts ya in jail - almost got me. Ya know, the one in Bludhaven."

"Nightwing?"

"Ohhhh don't get me started 'ere Dent. I'm not one to get so easily pissed off-" (a lie, clearly. Harvey could rattle off at least five separate times he had seen Oswald lose his shit over the smallest thing) "-but that kid really grinds my gears."

"I see."

"You see?"

"Will this be a problem for business? You know I can't risk your activities impacting me…"

"No! No, never. I've got my boys, you know me!"

"Know you, I do…"

The two fall into a comfortable conversation. The kind that two people who've known each other for the human equivalent of forever do. Though, it is to be noted that at no point do either cross the boundary of asking personal questions, of course. Business only, even if it is business-related gossip as the two kick back in their seats, smoking cigars.

"Well, that just about wraps it all up, hmm?"

"Oh yeah, I'd say so - oi, Dent?"

"Yes?"

"Stay safe out there. Bats' got a new kid under his wing."

"Yeah. You too."

Both men part ways, with their own sets of bodyguards leading them to their own vehicles - presumably home. Despite being in the oh-so lucrative business of white collar crime together, neeither man really knew enough about the other to be able to assume anything past them having roofs above their heads.

Which in this business, was more than enough to go off.

The driver opens the door to a sleek, all black Mercedes-Benz 600. A car of status and wealth, with strong roots of course. Hand picked many years ago. Harvey sits inside, the air that surrounds him still filled with a strange tension until the driver turns to him,

"Where to, boss?"

"Home."

"Got it."

Harvey leans back in his seat, finally able to relax. Even if it is only a little bit, as the car races through the streets of Gotham. True to the city's nature, rain continues to hammer down, and clouds practically disguise the city from any beings above. He's never really been crazy religious, but the idea of having his sins somewhat hidden from the Gods eases his mind and heart.

As the car comes to a slow stop, just outside his complex, the driver opens the door out. He walks inside, lumbering towards the slow elevator,

"Long day, Mr Dent?"

"When is it not, Bree?"

The receptionist hums back, and the two share a small smile as the elevator dings - signifying its arrival. Harvey waves goodbye, stepping inside and waiting patiently. The ride is slow, as always, but he takes the time to lean his head against the cool metal behind him. Grounding himself. Letting himself lose the stress of work with every floor he climbs closer and closer to you.

Perhaps what the others said was true.

Harvey Dent had softened up since meeting you.

Dinner had not been made - thought that was more because Harvey refused to let you cook alone, adament that he would either cook for you or with you - and you sat in your shared bed. In the brand new babydoll top he had bought you, just the other week. Your fingers trailed along the straps absentmindedly as you rubbed lotion along your skin, waiting patiently.

Your efforts pay off, as you hear the front door opening. You can picture him slipping his shoes off, throwing his coat over the coat hooks and dragging himself closer to you.

The door opens up, revealing your very tired, very much exhausted and slightly grumpy lover as he beelines straight for you, grumbling as he slumps on the bed beside you,

"Long day?"

"Long day."

"Awwww…"

"He made me wait. Two hours. Two hours???? Who the fuck makes someone wait two hours?????"

"Shitty dates?"

"Shitty dates AND stupid mob bosses!"

"And you'd classify this one in…?"

"Are you serious right now, my love?"

"Yes! I can't believe Harvey Dent was stood up-"

"-not stood up-"

"-by his date-"

"-not a date! Business meeting with a business partner! And he did show up, eventually.."

"Sounds like a toxic partner."

"I know. We need boundaries."

"And couple's counselling."

"Not partners! No- well. Not that kind of partner!"

"I don't know, Harv… the way you talk about him…"

He looks up at you, a scowl on his face as you giggle. Unfortunately for Harvey, he can't ever (for the life of him) hold any kind of anger against you. Especially not when you giggle and scrunch your face up like that. Instead, he ends up sighing and shaking his head, pulling his tie off and working on the buttons of his shirt before your much gentler fingers brush over his - replacing them,

"My turn tonight, Harv~"

He only hums in response, eyes closing as he leans back, letting you take over. Your hands roam over his torso, slowly easing out the stress that has built up over the day. One hand leaves him, just to dim the lights slightly, only to return just as quickly. As your hands move further down his body, your lips press against his ear, just for him to hear,

"My sweet, darling Harv, so hard working~"

You knew what you were doing. Hell, he knew what you were doing, unable to ignore the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped down, trying not to acknowledge the erection that had already made itself present. Yet when your fingers brush over it as they undo his belt buckle, he can't hold back the groan that escapes his lips, only for him to scowl,

"I should have more self control.."

"You have had a rough day… it's expected.."

"Yeah… but…"

"Shhhh, none of that tonight. So you're more sensitive tonight - so what? When has that ever been a problem, hmm?"

"S'pose you're right.."

You motion to him, and he repositions himself at the edge of the bed (taking a moment to remove pants and boxers, of course) as you settle yourself between his legs. His hand caresses your face, leaving it only to let you… you know. Do your Thing.

And your Thing, you do.

Both your eyes and his lower down to acknowledge the thick, throbbing monster of a cock that stands tall. Blushing an angry red, practically begging for your attention as it twitches with beads of pre cum already leaking out. The vein along the side is more prominent than usual, and a sigh escapes from his throat as you slowly drag your manicured nails along the side of his cock.

All the way up to the tip. The look on his face - scrunched up as he tries so very hard to keep himself together - is priceless, and only scrunches up more when your tongue slowly licks up, swirling around his tip before pulling away.

"???"

"Patience, Harv!"

"Love-"

He's cut off by your mouth wrapping around him, moving painfully slow as you bob up and down. His eyes roll back as his hand finds itself in your hair, wrapping around strands and practically tangling itself into your perfect little curls. He pushes your head down, releasing when you pull back up, and strained moans slowly make their way out of his mouth. With each and every lick, suck and dip, his breathing becomes more and more laboured.

Your tongue teases him. Plays with him. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter though, practically becoming needier with every sound he makes.

Which is of course, only worsened when he cums - hot cum spilling into and out of your mouth, down your neck as it slithers down your chest, into the cavity between your breasts. He watches the sight as you lick him again, cleaning him up before looking back up at him.

The sight practically has his member throbbing again - your doe-y eyes matching his gaze, your face, neck and chest covered in his cum. The lingerie he bought you, slightly more rumpled. Hair much messier (the way he likes it). As he guides you into his lap, your hands dance along the hem of your babydoll, lifting, only for him to swat them away,

"Leave it on tonight, f'me?"

You nod, letting his hands anchor you to him. One hand grabs a cloth, wiping you clean as he helps you sink down onto him. His hand gently parts your folds, rolling your slick up and down as he rests his head on your shoulder. He groans into your skin, the vibration rippling through your body, down to your core where you melt into him,

"Mmm, my sweet, pretty girl.. so good for me…"

In response, your back naturally arches to his touch - scattering across your skin, finding itself at the base of your hips, where he helps guide you into the rhythm the two of you have long been needing,

"So, how was your day, hmm?"

"Really, Harvey?"

"Yes! Is it a crime to ask?"

"Even if it was, would that stop you?"

"…not really, n-no- fuck me, baby girl-"

"I'm tryi-! Trying-!"

"Your day..?"

"Good! Busy. Busy, as alwa-!!!"

He picks that exact moment to snap his hips up. To pull you in closer, feel your ever hardening nipples under the lacy fabric rub against his chest. He pays close attention to you - how your breath staggers and stutters in your chest, how you throw your head back, how your nails begin to slowly dig into his shoulders. As you react to him, he presses his head just above your chest, kisses peppered into the warm skin that clings to him. Sweat meets sweat, as the two of you work in harmony, with you moving alongside him. Your whines tangle around the thick, humid air that surrounds the two of you, pressing down onto you as he thrusts up into you.

It's a controlled rhythm - for now. It always starts out controlled. Whether intentionally or not, Harvey prefers to have controlled, measured movements where possible. Every time your skin meets his, the way it clings - it makes that sound that has both your minds going ever so slightly hazier each time.

Before his mind gets too hazy, he allows himself a moment to reminisce. He thinks back to the person he was before you had whirled into his life...

Shit- sorry! Oh my God, I'm so, so, sorr-!"

It didn't take much to frazzle you, it seemed, especially not when you had bumped into someone and dropped some files that seemed awfully necessary. On your way to work, almost at the subway. And as your string of apologies continues, your eyes briefly drift upwards towards the broad chest which you had bumped into.

Upon realising that you - a mere mortal of Gotham, a simple citizen with nothing more than a shitty downtown apartment to your name - bumped into notorious mob boss Harvey Dent.

Harvey Dent.

You know, the guy who blinks at someone, and they go missing?

Yeah. That guy.

Your eyes widen as his eyebrows furrow over. His mouth opens, only for your apologies to increase, tenfold,

"Please don't kill me! I'm so so sorry! Oh my God, I haven't lived! I've not even cursed the Batman statue yet! Please, please, I have so much to live for!!!"

(a known tradition in Gotham was to curse the Batman statue on the night before your 28th birthday. Ever since Bruce Wayne had done so - in a very drunken manner, mind you - the tradition had been continued by most Gothamites. You, however, were only a few days away from your 28th birthday.)

"The.. Batman… statue…???"

"Yes, the on- you know the one, right?"

"…"

"Behind the GCPD?"

"…"

"…the.. statue…"

"Oh. That statue."

"Yes! See! You know the one!"

"Erm… yes, yes I do…"

People were staring now, as you rambled on about just how important it was for you to do this! How important it was to get to your rite of passage. Being the youngest in your friend group only put the pressure on, and so on. And Harvey Dent (again, known, notorious mob boss Harvey Dent) just listened. Listened, and held your papers in his hands. Helped you to your feet, handed your papers back to you (neatly, mind you. He had taken the time to neaten them up, and place them gently in your hands again.

It's only then you remember the threat that surrounds you, and begin panicking again,

"Oh my God, I just unloaded my life on you, I'm so, so sorry! You wouldn't kill me for that - right? Please? Pretty please?"

"No, I-"

"Please - I don't wanna die-"

"You're not gonna die!"

You stare at him, blankly. And in the background, a small, mischevious cherub shoots his arrow through the two of you, saccharine giggles surrounding the Heavens. Harvey feels his gaze soften, you feel your mouth part open, and somehow, he gathers the courage to speak,

"Coffee at 12? If you're free, that is. I know a place."

"S-sure??? Wait but how will you find m-"

He raises his eyebrow, and the question dies on your lips. He's Harvey Dent - he'll find you.

Whether or not you had intended to, you made him a better person. A kinder person. The kind of person who helped old women across the street, played with dogs at the park. Sure, Two Face was still a situation he dealt with, but even he loved you. If the voice inside his head that sometimes came out and plagued him also loved you, what more could he ever ask for?

And now, as the two of you worked in tandem, hips splitting and meeting one another over and over again, all he can think of is the bliss that spreads across his heart. The sweet, softened happiness that touches his soul in ways he had never really imagined possible for someone like him. He relishes every moment he spends with you, especially now. A small part of him worries, fears that one day the other side will take over. Too much, to the point that he will not remember such moments of tenderness with you.

You feel him falter, only briefly. But it's enough to lift your head back to him, to thread your fingers in the back of his hair, and slowly bring him up to you as you catch your breath,

"Hey, hey - it's okay, baby, it's okay. You're good, we're good, yeah?"

"Y-yeah. Good. I'm good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

That's enough for you, letting yourself fall into him again, as he moves you down onto the bed. His hands push your legs up to your chest, and the new angle has him penetrating deeper than before. Stars coat your thoughts, plagued by nothing but him as he pummels into you. Thrust after uncontrollable thrust, the measured rhythm lost to him.

One hand of his lowers down to your aching clit, drawing circles into it - which seems to be what sends you over the edge. Your walls wrap around him (practically sucking him in deeper), your nails drag down his back and your face contorts as you scream out for him. His fingers don't stop, nor do his unrelenting thrusts, as he drives you past your orgasm - pushing you further and further. He's close though, and you can feel it. Especially when his head presses into your neck, kisses lining your skin again. As he cums - thick, hot and heavy - the two of you sigh together, relaxing into each other. His body slumps over you, and for a long time, the only sound that fills the air around you is the hum of Gotham below mixed with the two of you slowly catching your breath. When you come to your senses, you tap his shoulder, and he flips the two of you over.

Ah, this position is much better. Your head, lying on his chest as you draw small circles into his arms, his pecs, his shoulders and abs. His cock's still buried in you - a thick ring of cum wrapped around the base, where it meets your folds. At the same time, the groceries outside are still on the counter, umbrellas are still dripping on the floor, and coats strewn about in disarray. Yet as he drapes his thick arms around you, pulling you in closer, any and all other thoughts leave your mind.

Outside, as Gotham continues to suffer through the Wrath of the Gods above, the warm light of the room basks the two of you in a soft, after-sex glow as you drift off to sleep, safe in his arms.

xoxo, roe~

Princess [name] could say she was sorry and regretted not accepting Serena sooner, but that would be a lie.

As she was dragged up to the guillotine, she looked upon the crowd who seemed so ecstatic to see her head roll, then to her father's face that showed in difference, to her other family members' faces, and finally to the star of the show. 

Serena.

[name] mouthed something to her before smiling. 

Her head is promptly locked into the wooden guillotine as the knight next to her raises his sword, cutting the string and releasing the blade down on her

The end.

“Wait? That’s the end of the story?” Aldira, my bestest friend in the whole wide world, asked.

“No, the end of the story was the last chapter in Serena’s perspective of her happily ever after. A lot of fans just dogged on the author about wanting to know about the [name], the minor villain since she wasn’t the like the rest of the generic villains either falling in love with Serena or just going to the good side, so as a last resort the author wrote a chapter in [name]’s perspective, a little one shot that eventually led to her death.”

“Well, that’s dumb.” Aldira rolled his eyes, and I nodded.

“Literally. I don’t know why I wasted time on this manwha, honestly.” We continued walking as our conversations switched from one to the next.

I’d say getting hit by a bus is too cliché. After all, how do you walk in front of a giant speeding vehicle and not notice until the last second, and when you finally do, it’s too late, you’d get rammed into a pile of broken bones and surrounded by a puddle of blood, if you’re even still conscious at that point.

That’s why I believed I’d never experience something like that. Those situations barely happen. Overall, it’s an overdone trope to start a novel that will either be a ‘yay’ or a ‘nay’ depending on whether the writing is good or not, but I’ll digress. 

Anyway, the whole reason I brought this up is that I’m not a careless person and certainly not idiotic enough to be so absorbed in my phone that I wouldn't notice a speeding truck. Even if there were one, it wouldn’t have mattered because I was on the sidewalk.

Walking home from school, actually. 16 years of age and having the dream life. A rich parent, many siblings, a main best friend, and a popular social life. Yeah, I’d say I had it all. (Except for a mom and therapy)

It was a normal day, and I had been walking with Aldira. As law-abiding citizens, we were walking on the sidewalk, and while Gotham is the number one trending place for crime rates, you’d be surprised by how many people respect the driving laws.

Up until today. Let me lead you through the events. One, a speeding truck with a drunk old guy in the driving seat, cliche. Two, Aldira and I were walking on the sidewalk to go to our nearby cafe. Three, no screaming, honking, or any signal of warning to the two teenagers (us) to move out of the way. Four, all of us collide.

It was a gruesome scene, and I’m unsure whether or not we survived, but seeing as I’m still monologuing, you would think I’m still alive, right? Well, I did too. And I had promised myself that once I woke up, all hell would break loose, and if it might break the silence between my neglectful family, so be it, because I’d be suing that guy, until everything he has, even his last shred of dignity, was down the drain.

Over dramatic? Yes, but I almost died. I’d say that was an equal trade.

At least that’s what should’ve happened when I opened my eyes. Instead, I was greeted with something out of a novel, corrected to something in a novel.

See, before this whole situation had occurred, I had been bored and began reading some man who's one that made me lose a few hairs out of frustration was a cliche found family/reverse harem trope story, it’s called “I stole the Loving Family of the Villainess.”

Petite, kind, sweet, beautiful, and all the traits of the main character, let me introduce you to Serena. The female lead of the novel has multiple love interests, from Connor Kent to Wally West. And the kicker of the story, the royal family, the Waynes, adopts her.

She’s shy and never wanted more than she got, and when I say that, I mean she has everything given to her already, so she doesn’t even need to ask. In fact, a week in, they replaced the existing portrait to add the illegitimate Serena.

It’s beautifully made, I mean, the artist truly had an eye for art. We have the brothers to the left, sisters to the right, parents on each side of her, and oh, how could you forget the main butler? Now grab your detective magnifying glass, my dear Watson, because in that newly made portrait, zoom in a bit, you might want to squint a little more. Ah- there I am.

That blot of paint that blends into the background- that’s me.

I took the place of [name], who coincidentally shares my name, the villainess.

This matters because, as the villainous she is portrayed as the idiotic girl who didn’t know her place, she was spoiled, she wasn’t smart, had no special abilities/traits/skills, and she had no magic.

All in all, she was the generic villainess who only had looks and would be stripped of her rank and replaced by everyone's favorite saintess, Serena.

As the simple-minded villainess, the schemes that she thought she did sneakily were always traced back to her; even if she cleaned up all traces, she would always be found out, but each one ranged from petty to borderline dangerous.

She was and is a pitiful character, and at the end of it all, she died, beheaded, alone, and never stood a chance in the novel that centered around Serena, for that was her fate, and she didn’t even know until she reached the guillotine.

So what awaited me when I opened my eyes wasn’t a bed to insinuate I had been sent to the hospital or that the whole incident was a dream, but rather a full-throttle push to the blonde girl in front of me.

I looked around, blinking before spotting a mirror, but I didn’t even have to, to feel the corset squeezing me tightly and the ballgown before that weighted so heavily I could tumble down if I wasn’t careful.

Then my eyes pan back to the family in front of me, and the main character sprawled out on the floor.

And while not shoving Serena would’ve helped my case, you’d have to admit, seeing her tumble down the stairs is fairly funny, I mean, come on.

Hey, at least a perk of being the main character is that you don't take any damage, whether that be physically inside or out. But I don't think the family will let it slide. They are yanderes.

Yandere is a term for a character who is initially normal but soon develops an obsessive-compulsive grip on the person they like.

Getting Princess [name]’s memories is miserable, but I think the most miserable thing that was happening was Serena’s words after I shoved her.

"I-I don't know, one second I was walking down the stairs and the next I f-fell... but the only person behind me was [n-name]" Serena whimpered, ah, yes, the struggles of a female lead, the stuttering.

Pamola, who looked and acted similar to my ex-mother, marched up the stairs, and she looked out of breath, starting berating me, “You insolent girl, what do you think you are doing?! We’re about to go to a big event, and you think this is the right time to throw a fit?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I tumbled down the stairs and managed to catch myself, but accidentally shoved Serena in the process… Are you okay, Serena?” I blinked, giving a concerned smile to her.

Pamola blinked, almost repulsed at my response. “Do you think this is a joke? You think we’ll believe that you shoved Serena by accident?!” She was about to slap me when someone cleared their throat.

“That’s enough, we’ll talk about this later.” Bruce’s commanding voice broke through as he gently got Serena off her feet and let Dick take her hand to escort her to the carriage.

As everyone eventually got into their pairs, I was left to descend the staircase by myself. A normal occurrence, at first it did numbers in the social circles, and still does, so each time Princess [name] was left embarrassed. 

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Gotham Empire, The Waynes."

Everyone flocked to each of the families, but mainly focused their attention on Serena, whether it be her face, jewelry, dress, or how sweet she was compared to me.

Then the atmosphere quieted once more as the door opened.

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Metro Empire, The Kents." Meet two of the love interests, that’s right, she goes for the big brother and the little brother. Originally, I'm engaged to Connor, but tonight that would change. The engagement is getting annulled, and his reason to the court is "I have set my eyes on someone new, and with many competitors, I can't lose."

It wasn't hard for anyone to know who it was. I think the only one that didn't notice was Serena herself. Because, of course, the main character is dense, I mean, how else is she going to attract the love interest?

Actually, this was a huge arc in the story when all the love interests fight for her love. There was no victor, as she did the poly relationship, which really confuses me. Doesn't she need to make many offspring for each of the families' respectable titles? You can't just combine into one entire thing, can you? That would be very messy, I guess you could just give away titles, but then who gets-

Anyway, that had a lot of readers mad, the whychoose situation would be okay, but she mainly focused on Conner, so there was actually no reason to choose this route.

Like anyone else, I was staring at the family arriving, Prince Conner had rushed over, and most would think, “did he finally lose his mind and is falling in love with Princess [name]”, yeah, with that bright smile and excitement radiating around him that’s what many people would think with the way he was rushing over to me.

He grabs my hands, and if this were drama, roses and sparkles would gently rise around us while the imaginary camera circled us, but we both knew that this was anything but the happy ending of a novel.

"[name], there's something I have to confess..." He did the dramatic pause that had people on their toes, including the original [name] in the novel.

"You're breaking off the engagement."

"I'm breaking- wait what?" He faltered for a bit, almost questioning if I was a mind reader.

"You've found someone new, who has many competitors, and you can't lose a battle you haven't even tried winning, I get it. I do,” I nodded, understanding, “But I'd like a down payment of 10,000 gold, and you can give the 490,000 gold later to my personal account, and we call it even. Deal?" Hustling, though it's a 50/50 shot with many deals with enough eyes on us, I'm sure he'll give in.

"S-sure, right. Right- I'll get that to you immediately-"

I gave his hand a firm shake before heading off to the...

If you guessed the balcony, you're wrong. I'm heading over to the food table.

"Did you just see what happened?"

"Is she planning something?"

"500,000 gold?!"

Suddenly, the refined sound of heels clicking against the tiles sounded, and I looked at the approaching figure, Barbara, the ginger that in my past life had always made sure to avoid me like a plague. 

"Sister, what are you planning?" Barbara came over.

Also, who calls their sibling, sister? 

"What do you mean?"

"That marriage was meant to connect our kingdoms, you'd let that go so easily, and we both know your gaze on Connor, what are you planning?" She spoke through her fan, in a hushed voice.

If I made a scene to not let him go, I'd be embarrassing you guys, but if I show that I'm okay with him leaving me, I'm ruining a political standing that wouldn't even work out, I'd still do something wrong.

"Have some decorum, sister. We haven't had a proper conversation in years, and this is the first thing you say to me? Typical Barbara, you think you know everything since you're older and more "mature"

You could tell Barbara didn't take that lightly as she gripped the fan handle tightly.

I'd like to preface the fact that I literally didn't even do anything.

"I'll spare you from any more veins popping up on that face. Don't be an ass. We both knew Connor was in love with Serena, and that my begging him not to break the engagement would only bring shame onto our family, so I did us both a favor and ended it." I tossed my hair back before grabbing some croissants that were covered in chocolate, powdered sugar, and some strawberries.

Barbara hadn’t taken that as a sign that I wanted her to leave me alone and kept going on about the broken engagement and the reactions towards it.

"What about the scandal that would break out?"

"Again, it would break out either way. You do understand that, right? What you should be worrying more about is how I’m doing on all of this. Sometimes I have to question if you want me dead." 

Barbara didn’t respond to my words, just looked me up and down. I tilted my head and just scoffed in an amused tone, squinting my eyes at her and nodding my head.

“You should head back, don’t want a scandal to break out affecting only me again, what do you think it’ll be? ‘Spoiled little [name] acts immature to her big sister,’ even if you were the only one making a big deal out of things?” 

She let out a deep breath before heading off. Almost as if to say, “I’m too busy for this”, my words had no effect, but that wasn’t surprising.

Speaking of which, I'd rather have a place to place my food and eat it, pretty sure there's a table in the garden under the gazebo if I remember correctly, and I don't buy whatever.

Walking out of the ballroom and into the garden, that made the chatter fade away. I walked towards the gazebo.

Just to find a moping Jon.

"Should you be out here?" I questioned the boy, only for him to ignore my words and mutter under his breath.

"It's unfair that  once again he gets to have everything."

Oh? Do tell.

I raised an eyebrow at him, cutting my croissant in half before placing a half in front of him.

He finally looked up, his face turned shocked like I was a ghost or something.

"[name]?!"

I bit into my croissant, nodding.

"Why'd you have to go and break off the engagement? Now I have Connor as competition."

I knew this happened in the novel, but I just remembered how young he was. He's around Damian's age, and I'm about the same age as Seren, so this was a cry for help.

"Why do you even like Serena?"

"I don't really, it's just... I wanted something that he couldn't obtain. He was going to be the first in line, and he's just better than me in lots of things because he has training, so I thought, at least I had Serena."

Sometimes I forget that back then, age gaps had no restrictions.

"That just means fewer responsibilities anyway. Aren't you a little too young to be worrying about any of that? Now, I brought over this croissant but since I'm nice I gave you half." I ruffled his hair and he tried to swipe it away.

"I guess you're right." He started gobbling the desert down.

Honestly, I don't even know why this was a love interest. 

He's literally a child, maybe that's why the author got backlash against that and the novel was an overall dumpster fire with a basic self-insert MC.

I don't know what's worse, the fact that they kept dragging on the storyline or the fact that I'm now in the storyline.

I mean seriously he only liked her because of the plot, he got over this situation so quickly that you wouldn't even know why he was moping earlier

Now back to the circumstance at hand I was at home and it seems the family never forgot about me shoving Serena down the stairs, they almost forgot about me breaking off the engagement.

"... what if she got a scratch on her face? Or if the clothes ripped?! Are you listening to me?!" I zoned out for a good second.

See, we had gone back to the castle and they kept rambling on and on about what could've happened to Serena had the fall been more steep or rough, but like does she even have the right to attend these events in the first place?

"Since you don't seem to care about this we're cutting you off from money for the next month!" She hollered in my ear once more.

"What were you thinking at the ball?" Tim cut into Palmola's ramblings.

"Normalize giving contexts, Tim." He scoffed.

"I was sparring with Kon the other day and he made some bogus statement saying he was breaking off the engagement, I didn't think he would do it, but allowing him to? Do you have any idea what this caused?"

"Who am I to stop Crown Prince Connor, Tim? He has a woman to chase, and wasn't going to give it up for this contracted engagement." I glanced at Serena who flinched and hid behind Jason.

"I still doubt that you'd let him go that easily, you've been obsessed with him since you laid eyes on him."

"And you know that because you're my caring older brother or because you like to throw it in my face on the downfalls of my life?"

"[name]!" Palmola scolded me.

Bruce could only sigh at the scene.

“Why does it matter now? It’s over, Serena’s not hurt. My engagement is over. Conner never loved me. I’ve always mistreated the illegitimate kid. You guys never cared about me or my actions. So let it go.” The atmosphere gets more tense before footsteps are heard.

Alfred arrived at the scene handing me a letter.

"To you, Princess [name]." I opened it to see the rest of the money that Connor promised me had been added to my account even with the 10,000.

I'm rich, but this is just the start.

"If that's all I'll be heading back to my room." I tossed my hair back before ordering the maids to prepare my bath.

"You're taking too long," I told the maids who were congregating among themselves instead of doing their jobs.

"Well, usually, Princ- I mean Lady Serena wouldn't mind-"

"Do I look like her?" I gripped the maid's chin. Her mouth sewed shut immediately and started getting pink in the cheeks before I just let her go and stared, she shriveled under my stare, but I let out a sigh, and they took that as me letting it go.  

"Don't worry, since it bothers you so much to draw me a bath you can pack your things up and leave tomorrow, you're fired." I pushed back my hair in agitation.

"What-"

"Did you not hear me, you're fired, don't make too much noise, go on." I shooed her away.

She just dropped to her knees and started begging me, but I made the other maids drag her out now all of a sudden they wanted to switch up and act properly.

"Now, with that out of the way, someone drew my bath." I rolled my eyes.

3RD POV

"That girl- I swear I don't know where she got that attitude from, did you see the way she talked to me?!" Palmola scoffed.

However, Duke could only think about how [name] seemed different; actually, the whole family could be thinking about that.

Damian kept stroking Titus' fur while thinking about how [name] didn't just keep her head down and take his insults. Wait- now that he phrases it like that, it sounds really bad.

Tim just thought about his friend Connor, who had been the one that Connor ranted to about how annoying his sister was but he didn't think [name] would take the cancellation of the engagement that easily, he thought [name] would at least throw a tantrum at best. And since earlier he noticed how [name] looked at them at the stairway after. [name] looked at them like they were lower than her.

Dick was processing the whole thing, did [name] always talk like she didn't care for their approval? I mean [name] spoke like this could've been a letter delivered to her door instead of an important conversation. This conversation was important, [name] hurt Serena and canceled a political connection of a lifetime, he could feel a headache approaching.

Jason could only blink at the audacity. Sometimes, when this happened [name] at least looked like she gave a darn but not only was she okay with that Connor boy leaving her, but also being cut off [name] would at least beg for some forgiveness. But nothing...?

Stephanie would've had a jaw-dropping expression right now, but had her fan covering her mouth, holy lord did that really just happen? I mean [name] did not even try to bother her at the ball but she also gave up the man she bothered until her final breath and 500,000 gold?! That's an insane amount one and two when did [name] learn to negotiate?

Cassandra felt confused about what had just gone down, did she hear that right? That whole thing, just what occurred? [name] changed in two seconds, as she blinked, Serena tumbled down the stairs and then she just acted strangely and Cassandra could read people, she knew for a fact that nobody can change overnight unless in the span of a few seconds [name] truly became a new person.

Barbara had already dealt with how [name] did a 180 at the ball but she just thought that was because she thought she had a tantrum at the moment, though in general [name] had never done this so what happened this time?

Bruce, well who knows what he's thinking, he just looks constipated like he isn't supposed to be saving Gotham in another life?/j

Bruce sat there, he didn't raise [name] like that, wait-. He didn't raise [name] at all... Is this his fault that [name] was acting out right now?

No, he's been busy and with all the duties of the empire on his hands he couldn't pause it for [name], like yes, he does that for Serena sometimes- all the time but that's different she had a hard childhood growing up.

Serena, well, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fist. For the first time, something didn't go her way. And what was that attitude, who did [name] think she was? She shouldn't even act like that, at this point, everyone knows she's supposed to be in her position. I mean look at her.

So it's time to be the center of attention. Wouldn't you think?

Serena let out a few sniffles catching the attention.

"It's all my fault that she's in a bad mood, I'm sorry."

The family quickly came to comfort her. Never mind what they were thinking before, how could [name] be such a child in this situation?

After taking a nice bath and sneezing I was now changed into my nightgown. Finally, relaxing after the catastrophe of events I covered my face with my hands and could only groan in disappointment, it seemed that once I finally felt happy in my life, the world screwed me over once more.

I’m alone, again. No Aldira, no technology to take my mind away from this, and no way out.

How is this fair?

Why?

I could only lift my head and remind myself that nothing good could come out of moping and could only glance at the journal on my desk.

It must’ve been Princess [name]’s diary.

I took [name]'s diary, where she wrote down her devious plans, one of the reasons she was caught and executed, and she couldn't rebut it as they had proof.

Maybe I should burn it, however, it held all her thoughts, life, and I might as well figure out what she was struggling with other than her mental health anyway.

Well, I’ve learned some things about this world in the span of reading [name]’s diary.

The world-building is simple, while the world is diverse, the story mainly focuses on the Wayne Empire. Since that’s where Serena builds her life. She was a poor, orphaned girl who had a charm to her. And she knew it. 

In the story, the author tries hard to portray her as a sweet and caring character who could do no wrong. It felt like a self-insert, but I digress. She stumbles into Bruce, the emperor of the Wayne Empire. He had been attacked by a dark mage, using her holy light magic, which gets rid of any negative effects. As she heals him, they have a small conversation where she starts mentioning her pitiful background.

At that moment, Bruce’s heart warmed, and he decided to be impulsive and offer Serena for adoption. She wept at the question and hugged Bruce, nodding along. Despite the entire thing seeming like a whole kidnapping scheme, the writing worked, and many people enjoyed the story and kept supporting the author's work.

Aside from that, [name] established the Noble/Royal family, side characters, and the main character. Then their landmarks and a map, but also established powers.

While some grow up learning it, others contract spirits or worship the ‘gods’ of that universe. Of course, there are also magical creatures like elves, fairies, mermaids, etc., who are naturally born/gifted with strong powers.

Then there’s your generic Archmage in the tower, specifically the Duke of the North, a crazy emperor of another kingdom, yadda yadda yadda.

Then we get into [name]’s life, which is a pity party all over.

Born with low levels of magic she gave up early on the idea of achieving something great but due to that her only form of getting attention was little to none and she only started to attract negative attention from her family due to the constant harm she afflicted onto Serena.

Overall everything sucked and if I had wanted to make a change the first step would be figuring out the magic system itself to better help my current position.

But how the hell am I supposed to do that?!

As you can tell, I aged [name] down; it would make more sense since SPOILER ALERT, this AU, while set in a historical setting, will also have an academia setting… I know, shocking. Also, because I realized, since they technically swapped bodies, having a teenage villainess transfer into a grown woman's body would not only be difficult, but having to relearn everything in that world, like customs, behaviors, surroundings, etc., would be difficult for a girl who is currently recovering from her hospitalization after getting hit by a truck. She’d need a caretaker, which would be her “new” family.

The same would be said for grown-up [name] to take place in a bratty teenage girl's body.

All in all, I needed to change that. So the special of what happens to the princess [name] after switching will also be updated.

On another note, I’m still figuring out each character's personality since they have different backstories in this AU due to the whole new genre and setting, and prior characterizations I made of them, or my OC’s like Serena might change from when people asked me questions about them… (does that make sense?)

I hope I’ve done a good job at revamping this whole thing. I’m still making the plotline as I go (I know, shame on me, I’ll try to make a plotline), so please do critique and proofread, as any problems like plotholes and grammar mistakes, among everything else, are appreciated.

Side note, but not a big one, you can tell I toned down [name]’s behavior, or maybe I’m gaslighting myself into believing I did, but I tried a little bit because I want to keep her a mystery and like to be more manipulative??? And confident. So basically, the quote that’s like “gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss” as some of you might think of how corny that sounds, it’s what I’m going for.

You didn't probe the topic right away, instead waiting until dinner was starting to wrap up before poking the bear.

This time around, Jason didn't do any of that weird bullshit about serving you food, only because Alfred had taken that responsibility beforehand.

Well, kinda. Your worries about upsetting your already unhappy stomach with a heavy Sunday roast turned out to be unnecessary, since Alfred had made you an entirely separate meal.

Your food consisted of warm miso soup and a side of some kind of seasoned tofu. For a second, you couldn't believe that Alfred had taken the time to make you something separate from the others, it was out of character for the man.

For the gang of vigilantes, Alfred regularly made specialized meals, but since you weren't usually recovering from massive injuries, you just went along with whatever was on the table that day. Regardless of the dish, the food was always high-quality and delicious.

You'd never complained, and he'd never deviated, until today.

You supposed that a concussion was reason enough to get a different meal, but it was still odd to have that kind of direct attention on you, doubly so from Alfred.

Whatever, at least it saved you from Jason playing Jenga with your food again.

You still felt intensely watched by the people around the table, but kept your head buried firmly down at your plate until it was time for dessert. Only after Alfred had set out the Bread Pudding (you got a platter of cut fruit) did you clear your throat and look up at Bruce, who was already looking straight at you.

This was it. You'd had the craziest three days of your life. Your boundaries (built over years of careful movement through a house that wasn't yours) had been violated repeatedly, you'd had not a smidge of autonomy (upon reflection), the people you'd come to accept as unfortunate constants had completely flipped their personalities, and you'd been kidnapped by the fucking Riddler because he thought that Bruce would come for you.

And craziest of all was that he was right.

You'd put up with it only because you had to, it wasn't like these fuckers let you get a word in edgewise, instead dragging you along like a passenger on the rollercoaster of your life.

And now, they were essentially threatening to isolate you entirely, after 3 days of completely insane behavioral changes.

You weren't quite sure if you were the one going through psychosis or they were.

Inhale, exhale.

You cleared your throat again and started slowly, "Tim said you had my phone? That the doctors gave it to you at the hospital or something?"

Bruce answered back just as calmly, cutting into his dessert as he responded, "Yes, that's right."

This asshole really wanted you to spell it out, huh? World's greatest detective my ass.

"Could I have it back?" No please, no explaining yourself. You didn't need to, the request was perfectly reasonable. Somewhere inside you knew Bruce didn't care much about reasonable. This was the same man that dressed up as a Bat and beat the shit out of criminals every night.

"No."

Like father like son.

Inhale, exhale.

"Why not?"

The rest of the table was quiet, watching the exchange carefully.

Bruce lifted his bite toward his mouth, "No screens, remember? That's what the doctor said." He frowned, "You do remember that, correct?"

Funny how Tim had said the same thing, huh? These people either thought you were stupid or were banking on you not to question them.

"I do. I also remember her saying that I could have them back after 48 hours."

"Ah and therein lies the problem. It hasn't been 2 days yet, sweetheart, you're not cleared for screens."

Sweetheart?

Inhale, exhale.

"Yeah, funny, Tim said the same thing." You pretended not to notice the withering glare the others sent his way. "He also said that you're not planning to give me my phone back even after the time's up, so uh what's the deal there?"

Bruce continued to fix his icy blue eyes at a point through you. "For smoothest recovery, we'll be increasing your screentime slowly. It wouldn't do you any good if you immediately went back to the numbers you had before, and- hours a day? Really? It'll be good for you to find some other hobbies."

At that you had to laugh, something disbelieving and forced.

"You know, its not even really about the phone, it's..." You trailed off, waving your hands around towards the table.

Your father leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and bringing his hands into a clasp in front of his face. Terrible manners and a guarded pose, he was gearing up for something and while you couldn't put a name to it, so were you.

He raised a brow, "It's what, exactly?"

Inhale, exhale.

Maybe when you were younger, still licking your wounds from being tossed to the side, you would have lost your bravado there, clamming up and holing back up in your room.

But you'd worked hard to get away from that, becoming someone who wasn't deathly afraid of confrontation. You wouldn't start the fight, but that didn't mean you'd let someone walk all over you.

That said, when it came to Bruce, phrasing was important. You'd been a silent bystander to many of his fights with the others, slinking around the manor and listening in to them play mental gymnastics.

The second any of them heard something that could be twisted in their favor, they would take it and twist, you knew that.

So you paused a second to think about how you could say this. Again, he'd find some way somehow to misconstrue anything you could possibly say, but from your side, you had to be smart about this. You didn't have years of experience fighting Bruce like the others, but he'd never had the chance to study you the way that you had been doing to him.

You were, at the end of the day, his child.

"You tell me, Bruce. for the past three days, you've been...like a whole different person. Is that what this is? Are you dosed with something? Are all of you doused with something? Because you have to recognize none of this is normal."

"What part exactly isn't normal?"

"The part where you care."

At that, Bruce worked his jaw.

"I care more than you think."

"Really?"

Jason had given up part way through the conversation and lounged back in his seat, slowly working through his dessert with a smug set to his lips. Tim's eyes were wide, bouncing between yourself and Bruce, the gears in his head visibly at work. Damian was still perfectly poised, his stance coiled up in preparation for a fight you wouldn't be having.

Dick, ever the martyr, stepped in to diffuse the palpable tension around the table. Or maybe he was just an attention whore who lived for the fantasy of trying to stitch his broken family together every time.

Probably the second.

"Wait. Both of you, calm down. (Name), of course Bruce cares, we all care-"

Inhale, exhale.

"Really? I mean, sure, fine, I concede, maybe you think you care, but that doesn't change the fact that you nothing you've done has been normal since Friday!"

"Friday? You mentioned you thought that was a PR stunt, is that was this is all about? You believe that any intention to be a father must be because of some external influence? Or that I have to be dosed in order to want to spend time with my child?"

Bruce's volume didn't get any louder, a dangerous illusion of calm, even though by the end he was practically hissing through his teeth, eyes narrowed into something sharp.

"Yes." The words slipped out before you could stop them, quiet but they seemed to echo around the room.

You continued, "I do think there has to be something foul at play for you to talk to me because why wouldn't I? I can count on two hands the amount of times we've had a conversation over the last 8 years!"

"You don't care about me! And I was fine with that! I was finally fine with that! I made my peace with it. With you. But then you come back, demanding to—what, get breakfast, sit through family dinners, follow medication schedules? For fucks sake, Bruce! Why couldn't you just let me live in peace?"

"You threw me to the side, you gave up on me. But why'd you have to come back."

The words weren't stopping, not even as you watched, tunnel vision on your father, as Bruce's face turned shades paler (no small feat), his knuckles white around his utensils.

"Now that's not fair, (Name)." Dick again butted in, hands raised with his palms up, staring intently at you, cornflower blue eyes unblinking. "This is family, and that means understanding that-"

You were tired of this conversation already, head starting to pound a steady thrum in the back of your skull, but you'd tussle the verbal 5v1 if needed, no going back now.

Inhale, exhale.

But it wasn't you that responded. It was Jason, hands scrubbing over his face, grin gone, looking more exhausted than he was a minute ago.

"No, they're right. They're right, Dickie, you know that. We knew this was going to happen, and you can try to pull as much bullshit as you want around them, but the little bird's smart. Always has been."

"Jason-" Tim started, urgency in his tone.

But Jason never listened once he got started.

"No, Timbers, I'm not-" he exhaled harshly, clearly frustrated, "I put up with this shit because you all said it would work out. That (Name) wouldn't ask questions, and when I said that this would blow up in our faces, you told me that we'd come clean. "

You felt frozen, like the room was revolving around you, time becoming syrupy and slipping right through your fingers.

"What? Come clean? Come clean about what? Jason-"

"Jason. Stop." Bruce this time, barking sharply at Jason from the head of the table. "This is not how we agreed to tell-"

Dick looked pissed, glaring daggers into Jason from across the table, "Wow, Little Wing, well done. Now they're even more confused, you were the one harping on about a gentle appr-"

Inhale, exhale.

Jason cut them both off, "You heard them! You heard what happens when (Name) slips through our hands, you know this! Right now, concussed, sitting at a table with people that are practically strangers, is this a gentle approach? You want to lose ours too, you fuckheads!"

Lose...you? And who was 'them'? And why was the room starting to spin even faster?

Tim was looking straight at you, the only one at the table that was still focusing on you, Damian watching the exchange between the three oldest, still bickering, with clear disgust and disbelief.

"(Name), listen to me, I know you're confused, but you need to stop and breathe, you're panicking. Stop-"

Oh. He was right, you weren't breathing properly anymore.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

While you tried to suck down some actual air, head pounding, Tim just continued to say something at you, words too quiet to be heard over the thump in your ears and Dick, Jason, and Bruce's fighting.

"(Name) is on the verge of passing out. Congratulations to all of you, we've done exactly what we most feared. Now if you could stop acting like imbeciles for ONE SECOND, you'd see that they're swaying in their seat."

Damian, making a stunning debut in the ring.

But he was right, get yourself together, you have shit to do.

Inhale, exhale.

You were going to get your answers, no taking the easy way out and passing out this time.

"From the top, no bullshit, no lies, what happened? Who are 'they'? And what do you mean lose me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(A/n: OMG WE'RE HERE, WE FINALLY MADE IT, the (so far) climax of the series, where I get to deliver to you my rendition of "the big one", the fight that gets you some answers. Answers that are coming....next time, YAY! (sorry i wanted to answer them in this chapter, but I'm not happy with how that went, and you guys deserve a better draft than I currently have) so until we meet again!

Also, I hope I've redeemed myself with reader finally gaining a backbone! I've heard the people, I know you guys have wanted to see reader stand up for themself and so have I! This is how I see it going down, but as always all feedback is more than appreciated! <3)

You hobbled over (still feeling a little funky from all the excitement of the last day and a half) to the en-suite and winced your way through brushing your teeth and actually washing your face for the first time in too long.

Years of basically taking care of yourself meant that you had a medicine cabinet and multiple drawers stocked up with the essentials. You tried your best to clean up with some dry shampoo for your roots and bruise cream for your green knees, all the while taking care not to bend too far forward or back.

You also, from the top shelf of your medicine cabinet, pulled out a small bottle of store brand pain killers. This were in there mostly for little things like headaches and stomach cramps, but according to your chart, a higher dose of these would work for your concussion pain too.

So down the hatch they went, before you got changed into something different and actually stepped out of your room for the first time in a while.

For not quite the first time, you were grateful about having a room on the ground floor, since you were most definitely not making it down any stairs for a while, the effort would likely send you tumbling back down and landing like the family guy death pose.

Speaking of media, your phone and all other electronic devices had been notably missing since the museum, and you were on the hunt to find them. The doctor had said no screens, but there wasn't really much else to do right now, so at the very least couldn't you put a podcast on at low volume for a little fun?

You kept hobbling your way to the kitchen, hovering near the wall for stability, and stepped through the arched entrance to Alfred standing over something sizzling at the stove. He turned to acknowledge you, face mostly impassive except for a single arched brow, which was usually the most emotive he would get.

"Out of bed so soon, Miss/Master (Name)? I could have sworn you were on doctor's orders to not exert yourself."

Alfred hadn't talked to you at such length for a while so you took a second to think before responding.

"I feel okay, to be honest, not as bad as yesterday, for sure. I took some painkillers a little while ago so the headache's starting to subside, I'm just kinda hungry."

Alfred had a way of making you feel small with the way he seemed to convey so much disappointment with only his eyes, never falling so low as to voice his displeasure. The old man was more secure in his place in this household then you were, so you were under no false pretenses that his show of decorum was more of a defensive shield against those he didn't seem to like, such as yourself. Should he cuss you out tomorrow, his job was at no risk of termination. (More likely they'd finally find a reason to throw you out.)

When you were younger, when your whole world tilted on its axis and you became just another ghost in the manor, Alfred's change in behavior had cut deep. In the place of a man you once saw as your grandfather, all warm smiles and cookies and infinite wisdom shared over steaming tea, was the overwhelming grief in his eyes whenever he caught you sitting in Jason's old spot in the library, reading his books or bunched up in his blankets.

He'd looked almost sick the first time he saw you playing alone in the sunroom, eyes locked on the empty spot next to you. You knew Alfred just couldn't look at you after Jason died, whether it was from guilt or resentment didn't matter.

As you got older, the sadness shifted to a heavy disappointment. Alfred Pennyworth would never do something as ill mannered as scoff, but the way he looked at you was enough to get the message across. He'd served three generations of Waynes now, and by far were you the most unremarkable of the bunch.

You weren't a billionaire philanthropist, nor were you trying to be, you weren't Batman or Robin, you didn't help out with the mission, and you didn't stand out at galas or in high society. You were just you, and for Alfred, that didn't seem to be good enough.

For him, it was easy to push you to the side, he had a million other things to take care of, people to stitch up, you could keep yourself alive for a little while without him right?

All that to say, the way he was staring at you was unfortunately familiar, upset at your presence, but forcing himself to stay within the bounds of polished manners. The only thing that was slightly different today was how he seemed to be unsatisfied at your answer, only continuing to watch you squirm, still just barely though the threshold of the kitchen. Usually, he'd take any response as sufficient proof of life and leave it at that.

To be honest it was bringing back unpleasant memories of how the Riddler had stared at you, that uncanny gaze knowing exactly what you were thinking and planning to wring the right answers out of you.

He cleared his throat, pouring out what seemed to be a broth of some kind into a serving bowl.

"(Master/Miss) (Name)? Are you quite alright?"

"Sorry, what? I uh- checked out for a second."

Again, he looked very unimpressed.

"I asked about the medication you mentioned, what was it and how much did you take, exactly? I know your father meant to keep you on a strict schedule so I imagine this won't please him to hear."

You rattled off what you remembered, some off-brand variety you'd got off the bottom rung of shelves the last time you needed a refill.

Alfred turned back to the his work for a moment, pulling out a batch of Yorkshire puddings from one of the many ovens (oh great it was monthly Sunday roast day, when Alfred got all patriotic for his motherland and decided to subject the rest of the family to a classic British spread. Usually with his skill in the kitchen, it was pretty good, but you weren't fully sure if you could keep down something so heavy right now. Oh well.)

"Hm. Well, dinner will be served in the next 20 minutes, so it would be wise to take a seat now, before the rest of your family comes down, making a ruckus as always."

He had a point, you weren't really in a state to try and shove past whichever combination of robins would be brawling on the floor by the time they all got downstairs, so you made your way over, sliding into the same seat you'd been in on Friday.

~~~~~

Tim was the first one down, eyes darting wildly around the dining room before they zeroed in on you. He moved to take his seat across from you.

"(Name)! There you are, I was looking for you! Well, more like I was gonna help you from your room to the table, but anyway- How are you feeling? You should take your meds after dinner."

You awkwardly threw him a double thumbs-up from across the table, "Yeah, I er- already took some, so I think I'm good for the night, probably just gonna eat and go back to bed."

You noticed how he scrunched up his brows when you mentioned taking your meds already.

The off-brand version wasn't even that bad! It was the same stuff mostly, just cheaper. So much hate and for what?

"Oh, uh, okay, sure, yeah, just let Bruce know, he's been trying to keep you on a schedule."

"Yeah, Alfred told me." Bruce and his fucking schedule. Medication was medication, what was the big deal? Either way you'd basically be taking the same thing, no?

Tim just nodded and pulled out his phone, typing away furiously for a few seconds before putting it face-down turning back to you.

"Sorry, WE work," He laughed for a second, "Um- did you sleep well? I still remember my first time getting taken by the Riddler, I was shitting myself."

He was smiling, but you weren't. For a second you felt bad, what you went through yesterday is what he'd been accustomed to for so long.

The first time he got taken by the Riddler was when he was 13. You remembered this vividly because Bruce had gone near insane. Batman stopped pulling his punches that night, and Tim's Robin, not for the first time, turned him away from going too far.

"No, no nightmares, I knocked out after the meds pretty much. I didn't dream at all."

He beamed at you, tired eyes crinkling at the corners, "That's good. You need all the rest you can get."

"Hey Tim, do you know where my phone is?"

His face didn't change in the slightest, "Yeah Bruce has it, the EMTs gave it to him when you were being taken to the hospital."

"Can I get it back, I wanna-"

"No."

"What."

"No."

His smile didn't move an inch, "Doctor's orders, remember? No screens, loud noises, harsh lights, reading, exercising, or otherwise strenuous activity for at least the next week."

That wasn't what you remembered. You frowned, pushing through the remainder of your headache to try and remember the exact instructions you had been given.

"No wait, I could have sworn he said no screens only for the first 48 hours, then I can get them back, and the rest of the stuff's not a problem since I don't do most of that anyway. Except for the reading, but I can read on my tablet or something."

Tim put up two fingers, "Two things. First, it hasn't been 48 hours yet, has it? And second, that's mostly a suggestion, the longer you spend off of your screens the quicker your recovery will be. So Bruce thinks you should try to stay off of your devices for at least a week to start with, then we can start to reintroduce them, like 10 minutes a day to start. You work your way back up, under careful monitoring, of course."

"What the hell? Whadyamean? Tim, I can't just stay offline for a week, I have so much homewor-"

"Oh you don't have to worry about that for a while."

"What are you talking about, I've at least got to-"

"No, Bruce talked to the school already."

That gave you pause, "...About?"

He fiddled with a loose thread on the sleeve of his hoodie, "You have the next week off, and after that it'll be on a day-by-day basis to see if you're cleared to go."

"Tim-," you were gearing up to fight about this, fuck it. If you couldn't go to school, what were you supposed to do all day? All you currently had was your life outside of the manor's walls and online, what were you supposed to do without both?

The rest of the family started to file in, as Alfred carried over dinner from the kitchen. You didn't have time to finish your thought as Jason slid into the seat next to you.

Oh fuck, wasn't this a little too familiar?

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(A/n: Chapter 12!! Getting into the throes of it now! Please please please, as always, feedback is much treasured so let me know what you think or any thoughts, comments, and guesses. (👀))