Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I’m cold,

The cold nips and claws into me like a wolf starved. I see it in the face of all those I've been wheeled past, every flicker of a person I pass. The ones who can not fend for themselves as weaker ghosts.

The cold was once a comfort to my being, and yet as the upcoming “Medical test” fans the flames of anxiety that accursed woman has cast upon my core It was all a mistake, her young and bright youthfulness drew in nothing but pain as she came to power.

Sadistic, though it must be a form of inhumane practice. As a near god I should have never failed, for I fear for my seat at the infinite realm's throne, as king.

Will I not be able to kneel at my peoples feet? Am I deserving of the Crown? Has that evil who uses such barbaric and inhumane practice taken my mind? Am I really so close to fading into nothing?

Yet when I close my eyes and feel the sweat drip down my back as she watches my torture from behind her glass. My mother claws into my body, I feel nothing but the warmth of her hands as my mother grips my heart. I feel myself connecting with her through pain and agony.

The pain of loss of love, loss of life. But just as she has lost her son I’ve lost parts of my internal organs.

Sam my love, Tucker my faith, I wish to once again be your loyal Friend. The boy who once looked at you in the dark of my parents basement and vowed even in death to hold no other higher than you, both of you vowed.

Through shed tears and my green blood.

Yet that bone deep chill that sears into my skin, as the very human heat of my blood pools and dirties the hands who once held me so dearly? The monster has made a mess of me. I can't even cry.

I see the way you examine me with such anguish as the once warm life leaves you. I wish for nothing more than for my sister to hold me. I'm cold, but she has no warmth to offer. Not anymore, because she’s colder than I am. colder than the winds of the farfrozen. A cold overtakes, it's blinding me as rings of light flash over me.

I wish to soak the walls in red, but as my mothers fear looks at the very human body of her son reaches me. The memories of her once happy and sound child will forever be stained with the image of Phantom.

No longer the human boy that had a particularly harsh form of liminality.

I furry and wish to incinerate your accursed soul Agent K, and rip into you. Just as you watched as did mine. As I will not be bled any longer, I can feel my core weakly flicker to life.

I feel something coming, and I wither and turn as I feel the looming punishment as my body begins to freeze. As I've lost too much ectoplasm and blood. I fear for my mother, who looks at me. My father whose hands were originally covered in green now drip red. The same color he’ll bleed.

The face of Jazz flashed in my mind, my sister who was given no chance, the fear for me and what her death would bring. I saw my father making fudge while my mother tinkers with the latest ghost-tech at the kitchen table.

I feel myself cracking, my core nearly splits as ice bursts from me. I lay limp on the diction table, my breath stutters as my heart attempts to pump what little blood my body has left, the rest was taken or pooled on the floor.

But my blood mixes with the blood of others, my mind flashes with visions of pillars of ice coated proudly standing over me. The beautiful blue-green ice covered in gore. The staff that had been bustling and busy a moment ago.

And my parents. . . I no longer feel my mother prying flesh from my chest to be collected. I can't see at first, the sudden last attempt to protect my core nearly took the last of my remaining strength. But pain is nothing compared to the hatred frozen on their faces as they look over me.

As dramatic as it sounds my Mother gasps and writhes in pain over me as I bathe in their blood. I see such love and hate in her eyes.

A hate for what I had become but a grief for the family she had lost. She’ll die doing what she loves, playing with her children.

It pours from her as my ice holds them over me, in its own way it is a comfort. Almost like I'm still 6, as my mother and father pours all of the love they have for me into my scared and vulnerable form. But this is not love.

It’s a mockery really, my life and death is currently the funniest joke in all of the realms. Ironic. Painful. Therapeutic. It’s so many things, but fair.

It’s not fair.

They bleed their own lives over me, I'm covered in the blood that should have never left them. Instead of shoving the nightmares away and showering in comfort. I am covered in the blood that runs in my own veins. . . .I am covered in blood. . . .I am bathed. . . . I just got the most royally fucked up from of baptism.

I want to cry, but I've got nothing left.

If only my own organs were still in functioning condition, I would vomit if my stomach wasn’t on the dissection cart. I want to roll over and throw up all I've eaten, but rolling means I'd lose only my remaining organs. And I’ve had nothing to eat anyway. There's no point.

MOnsters DOnt EaT

It's a strange feeling, the chilled and empty feeling in my stomach was never something I'd thought about. I want to run but I'm still in human form.

I don't know if I should laugh, scream or cry. I'm just too tired for anything.
I'm too tired to transform yet I won't last if I stay here, I faintly hear buzzing. It takes my severely blood deprived brain moments before I can register the booming sounds of the facility alarm. Weird as my ears are normally way better than a human.

Human? When did I start to see myself separate from them? Crap, I'm not safe enough to think such poetic thoughts. Mr. Lancer would be so proud of that thought

I force the rings of light flicker dimly like a broken bulb around me as I force my body to transform, I'd much rather be a ghost whilst on the run from the government than human while my guts fall out of my stomach.

Yet I feel a little wrong as I transform. I feel so much smaller, weaker, YOUNGER. Well this is fucked. . . I'm so low on ectoplasm I can barely form a complete transformation. But maybe being smaller will help me hide better or somethin’?

I don't know, I can barely think with that stupid alarm killing what's left of my thoughts.

And I’m not even out of the blood soaked medical gown. And god I've never missed that hazmat suit I died in like I do now.

“Sht” Damn I Sound and feel like a toddler.? Well now's not really the right time to estimate my new age.

I use my newly tiny arms to hold my insides, it's definitely an adjustment. The dissection table looks a lot taller as a 3 ish toddler. And i don't trust my legs to not give out underneath me if i jump down, flying is also a no go. So I'll just try and float down.

I roll off the table and semi steadily float down from the table. “Gawd, I'm so tired.” I huff as I toddle over to the nearest tool table in search of something, anything to close the gap in my chest and stomach. And see a stapler. “Yolo I guss..?” God a few days, weeks without my sister and im falling off the deep end.

Time is hard to tell when every waking moment is filled with blood and pain.

I didn't look up from the floor, I couldn't stand to look up. As my core aches at the mere thought of where Maddie is pinned. I can hear people coming in the distance so I grab the stapler from the table and see my mothers bracelet in a pool of blood.

I reach for it, the blood covered locket is nothing but a sickly reminder of my family. The ones that lie still and cold above me.

I take a deep breath as I lift up the medical gown and look at my intestines, stapler in my right hand. Guts in my left. I exhale as I shove my organs back where they belong as I use the stapler to sloppily close my own vivisection wound.

Why are my hands trebling so much?
I guess being tortured medically has mentally has caused some numbness, but trying to open that explosive can of worms now wouldn't be a good idea.

I hear yelling and stomping that is way too close for my own comfort and safety. I grip the blood soaked bracelet tightly and I look at the open window from the viewing room. I walk in shattered glass, tiny bloody footprints follow me as I run through the winding hall.

Chapter Text

The glass digs into my feet souls as I sprint. . . Ok more like as I toddle and try not to trip my way through the long and forever blank hallways.

I pass window after window, I see ghost after ghost being strapped down in agony as they wail or cry. My already very weakened core feels like it forms cracks with every face burned in my memories.

I won't ever forget them. I can't, as king I will never forget them. . . Their faces twisted in pain. I shutter as a false chill runs over me.

I run up a few floors ducking and trying to avoid the guards chasing me. Diving for cover and rolling out of the way of blaster shots.

I feel like I'm running infinitely until I see a pair of stairs, skidding to a stop and panting. I keep pushing until I see a. . “POPTAL!” I definitely don't have enough energy to phase through the thick walls of the facility but a Familiar feeling portal?

With the sounds of shouting surrounding me, along with the trail of blood and ectoplasm trailing after me I can't hesitate for a moment longer, I hop through without looking behind me.

I'm tumbling through shades before a sudden pain flashes as I'm smashed onto my side by the evil cruel bitch that's called gravity. “Ugh- dat's gona buse”

I practically pry my eyes open to look around to only be met with the scene of a thin expanse of woods. They did not want me to be found. But my pointed ears twitch up at the sounds of a city somewhere nearby, the forest is covered in a thick and dark smog.

It fills my heaving lungs and practically pains my skin, oh this place is cursed and hell It definitely doesn't look like any city I'm familiar with.

I slowly pull myself up into a stand, and it pulls at my chest. “Owie. . .” I stand on baby deer legs and try my hardest to not trip. But being this small and having to run for my life? Not one of the hardest things I've done, but definitely not the easiest.

I pick the loudest direction and start walking with a Shrug.

I walk up to the entrance of a. . .”Sewer. . ?” Yeah, it sure smells like one. . . Well I guess it’s better than walking to the city entrance and immediately being questioned. I look down at the blood on my gown as small drops drip from the bloody path.

Yeah no, definitely better than being immediately whisked off to the nearest hospital. Because I probably look like I'm seconds away from my second death.

I start walking into the tunnel, only gagging once or twice at the smell. Reminds me of Josh’s locker, heh.

My steps slow as I feel it, a chill. It's not like the deadly chill of the exam table. It’s almost a warm chill.? It’s familiar. . . “Rest, my little king”

I can trust her? I can feel one of my own close. She hums and lullaby to me. It’s so. . . comforting? “It’s so strang?” are the last words I mumble as I start to feel tired.

The last thing I see is a woman draped in an almost silken midnight and a dark fog. She holds out her hands to grab me as I yawn. She smells alot like smoke and wine.

She purrs at me. I can feel her every intention as she purrs, “Safe, safe child, sleep.” I yawn once more and rub my eyes as I relax in her hold.

Only the rhythmic click of her heels can be heard as she carries him home, home is a nice thought as she walks away from the outer entrance of the sewers.

Lady Gotham

The lady was very content as she walked with her little king in arms.

“Do not worry child, the pale knights nor any who wish for your seat upon the throne may enter my domain whilst you rest and recover strength” Lady gotham walked out and into her city, the moon shown through the eternal fog.

The Shadows danced around as her shades ran and played in the protective shadows of the darkest night. They would pay, the lady swore those drapes in white and blood would pay.

The young king was just that, a young and foolish king. He would know not yet of war and pain. Yet blood for blood is the only way to truly appease the restless dead. And blood would be had.

And the dead will never rest contently knowing their king has been subjected to such barbaric treatment. She can see it in the faces of her children, anger flowed through her at the thought of her king.

The child spirit’s screams were heard all throughout the realms. Even animals would not stand to hear the dying screeches of their young, yet the pail knights smile if not laugh at one of their own.

The one cloaked in heavy purple cloth had asked of me to take him whilst he heals and recovers his strength. As everyone was united in order to plan the demise of the Bloody handed creatures.

It brings forth a rage She hasn’t felt since her beloved bird fell from the sky. His rage had consumed him wholly by the time he flew back home. He was no longer the young child who believed being robin made him magic.

A warrior born from grief, shaped by his pain and consumed by his rage. Her beautiful bird’s wings will never soar as high while being weighed down by blood of the cursed and the vile.

He will forever be Lady’s worst mistake, all because he left the nest too soon. She coos at the young hatchling in her arms. Her son is made of jagged edges, but maybe having someone to hold will allow him to soften.

She waves a hand covered in starlight over her young king's body, a quiet and happy trill falls from his pouty lips. “A blessing from your loyal subjects. Your haunt was destroyed, you’ve bled for us. And so has your friaid.”

The Lady brushes her nose over Her king’s sleeping form, a promise trilling from her core. Your sacrifice will not go unrewarded young one.

The dark lady stops in front of a run down looking apartment, the wails of sirens and the booms of guns soothed the unfavored. The prominent click of heels is heard down any empty hallway.

She walks into her beloved bird's nest, room 404. It was frankly, run down. The building is tired, it sighs and sways with every breath she takes. Not at all a suitable place to raise young, the lady trills with amusement.

The young hatchling purred tiredly in her arms as she walked through the run down apartment space. Yes she knew the king would be very loved.

Though her knight was still in the final stages of recovery he is the only knight with the ability to connect with the boy king. As the others have not been cradled in the arms of death like he had been. They could not understand the loss of both life and limb like he had.

See cooed trembling at the child in her arms. His chubby face filled with a hint of bone deep fear and exhaustion. Yes, the child needed to be surrounded by his own. She’d take in the adorable ghostling if she could, but she needed to make sure the blood soaked didn't enter her city to challenge him for his little crown.

Her blacked eyes landed on the Large form of the grunting male on the couch. Skin soaked in sweat, marred with bruises and scars. He squawked in pain as sweaty gloved hands struggled with tweezers to properly clasp the bullet lodged in his thigh pressing harshly on a nerve.

Her bird curses and hisses indignantly in pain as his hands tremble. The lady draped in black, surrounded by night and feathers stands beside him waiting patiently for him to notice her presence.

Jason

Jason felt a strange and creeping chill crawl up the base of his spine. . . Almost the uncanny feeling of eyes on his back.

Someone is watching me, I can feel it in my fucking bones. The stare singes my nerves as hot as a blazing fire. Something stares and burn holes into the side of my face and its fucking maddening.

I'm in my main safe house. . This dingy building is one of my most secure locations. Yet i don’t feel fucking secure right now.

Not even that stupid Ninja demon spawned brat has managed to find this one’s location? Why the Fuck- No Who the fuck is in my safe house. And why do they have a death wish?

No, don't be naive Jay, there's ALWAYS a way to track someone.

But where the hell are they, why can’t I see them? There is no possible way for anyone to hide in plain sight in such a barren fucking space. Why the hell do I feel like someone watching me dig a fuckin’ bullet outta my fuckin’ thigh.

And bad to worse? I feel the normally aggressive green rage shrink back like a feral dog, Snapping its jaw and snarling fearfully as it paces in the back of my mind. It feels almost. . Afraid?

Someones in my fucking nest. . . Someone’s going to have the barrel of a gun shoved up their ass, and they better be prepared and ready because I'm packin’ a huge fucking load.

What in the goddamn hell could make the normally animalistic and fiery rage claw and back away? And Where was whatever it is. . ?

I reach for the gun in my holster on my hip when I hear it. There, the voice of my Dam But the woman in front of me isn’t my Dam. Of course she isn’t my dam . She’s dead, so who the hell is trying to convince me otherwise of that fact?

“My precious Little bird. Your mother urges you to fly once more, with another under your wings” Her wings of tar and misery flutter out and a strange display of amusement.

I pull the gun from the holster at my hip and immediately aim, my hand shakes in a stunted rage at this fraud. I Steal myself as I click off the safety of my pistol.

“Who the fuck are you? Why are you here, speak or eat my fuckin’ barrel.”

The woman steps out from the shadows. She looks as if she’d walk straight out from an older painting. The woman's scent hits my nose but I can't identify a single smell. She just smells familiar.

Jason froze

His body moving before his mind could ever think to catch up. He was suddenly looking at a woman covered in filth? She looks liked she was dumped in sludge and blood, the black liquid dripping from her face is seemimgly infinite.

She is covered in beautiful pearls and feathers. Looking almost like a flapper girl, they were violently murdered and their body dumped in an oil drum to be disposed of.

Her Hair is tangled, spilling over her head, And with tar black feathers entwined with her strands. Her hand are- She’s holding something, her hand while looking delicate don't tremble or loosen her grasp on what ever she holds.

Time seems to still as I stare at her. The woman's features were her own but not at the same time, she holds me in place with nothing but her sharp gaze alone. Trapped, I feel fucking trapped, stuck in whatever weird hypnotism she had placed on me.

Jason had tried to thrash against whatever was holding him. She looked like she was waiting for him to do something. Then she let out a trill chirp, he felt something click in place for himself as his own arms had reached out to her expectantly. He felt a shifting pressure behind his skull, it was nauseating.

His vision hazed over a lazarus green green tint, it felt like it was no longer writhing in fear. But purring. PURRING

The pit rage that had pledged his re-life for years with anger and aggression is purring happily at a woman whose voice mimicked his dead mother. . ?

What has my cursed life come to? Everyday the gods find a new way to throw shit at my face.

The Lady was Draped in a black veil that dragged behind her. The long dress looked like an old back wedding dress. It looked as though she bent the shadows around her. She wore long pearls jewelry that draped and hung against her dress like stars on a black night.

She moved almost inhumanly like she glided instead of walking, each step moved slowly and deliberately as she walked up to me. The click of her heels was strange seeing as she walked on my rug.

Her arms are heavy weighted with something strange. And whatever it is? It’s breathing, and I can hear it. A scent wafted underneath my nose tickling something deep inside that I had locked away.

It's mine. . ? I feel like I should take whatever she holds from her, I feel as though my feet are weighted to the floor. I need to calm down. It smells new, something other than the Green in my chest purrs contentedly.

All of a sudden I had a pup in my arms. He smelled pain, fear and agony and oh so new. There is no underlying Scent of a pack on that baby's skin, Just steel and antiseptic medicine.

“He will not survive without you, little bird. As he has no one left I intrust him to you”

First thing I noticed about the child tucked in my arms is the red, the sheer amount of it caused the room to become a darker tint of green.

BLOOD? Is it his blood?

But the woman had just said he wouldn’t survive without me, is she.. asking for help?.. Help was a BIG fuckin’ understatement he needs a god-damned intervention!

He had such horrific gashes and cuts all over his little body, and god his little chest was nearly about to split open and spill just his little guts on the floor. Held together only with a really shitty staple job.

And that's just the main wound, i don't think i could stand to stomach looking him over. But not doing that may cause more harm. So i suck it up. . .

I look over each injury, past or present. Looking for any at the risk of infection. My chest sang while holding the child so close. Yet my veins burned at the mere thought that someone had hurt a pup this badly and was still breathing.

But falling into the pit of rage that tried to flood my mind with the thought of vengeance wouldn't help him, not while he’s this hurt.

The woman had daintily lifted her hand to me, holding nothing but a small folded paper. I reach to take it but she is just gone, not another word or sound as the paper falls to the ground.

She left.

I’d question if someone had tampered with my pain medication but the small whimper and the slight weight in my arms brings me back to reality.

Fuck.

My hands are trembling and bloody. I want to tap my emergency contact for Dick, if anyone would know what to do it would be him. My Older brother has always been good with this kinda stuff.

Fucking fuck, i feel his blood seep into my shirt. I lay the kid on my couch and pray to the first god i think of, because this child just filled a hole i couldn’t the whole of my re-life.

I need to move, so I set the poor little thing on my couch and try and think.

My Omega whines at the loss of contact, A pup was hurt this badly and his care was left to me. This kid is mine, one one will hurt a hair on his tiny head so long as I live and die.

And if he dies before i even see his little face wake up and smile at me i'm going to fucking explode again.

I grab the paper off the floor and sprint around the safe house looking for all the medical supplies I have. Fuck i need more than what i currently have but going to the manor is my LAST choice right now.

I track copious amounts of blood, both his and my own through the house as I scramble for anything remotely helpful to treat his injuries.

I take a pair of scissors I randomly found and cut off the wet medical gown off him, Filing all the injury types away for later me to adress based on severity.

I didn't remove the stitches as we are not in a sterile environment for proper treatment. It’ll have to wait till tomorrow. Plus it looks like they are the only thing keeping his little guts in, I couldn't stomach it if I hurt him any more.

I slump into the chair against my couch, hands stained red and slick with a vile amalgamation of bodily fluids, its a disgusting scent mix of pain sickness and pup. I want to lick his little face clean, an impulse that comes with having a new pup.

I ignore the impulse and grab a soft towel and a warm bowl of water and wipe his skin clean. I can't properly treat his injuries when he is covered in blood and gore. Plus it gets rid of the scent of steel and pain.
I try to avoid his injuries so as to not cause any more pain to him. But he doesn't wake. Maybe his injuries have caused him to crash because he’s not even flinching.

I growl in my throat at the realization, but I can't stay mad as it’s honestly a small mercy he can’t feel as I stitch up his gashes while they still pour blood and stain my hands.

After the worst of his injuries are sewn closed I look inside my emergency kit and dig around for a numbing gel to apply on his wounds, i don't want him to be in more pain.

I need to take him to get treated by someone. I don't have everything he needs here. I slump next to him before remembering that paper.

I pull it from my pocket and open it.

It says only two things.

“Tell Daniel we love him. But he can never return. -CW”

I Have no clue who the hell cw is but they probably sent Daniel here, Daniel. . .That's his name. I purr tiredly as I nuzzle his neck, I can't help it he no longer smells like blood and pain. Just soap and baby.

I want scent him, but I think blood loss is getting to me, because grab my communicator and try to call lesslie. But fuck im so tired. I press what's hopefully her name and sigh.

I don't know when the exhaustion gets to me but I realise I'm sleeping when I hear the dreadful sound of Gotham, there are no morning birds to greet me. The only thing I hear is the restless screaming and the faint huffing breath of the toddler.

Before that breath turns to screams of agony and pain. I scramble up and out of my seat close to him and immediately pick him up and hold him close.

He looks less pale compared to last night, despite his ashen skin telling a story of a child who used to be outside frequently he looks less pale. The screaming turns to whimpers as I hold him purring and mumbling hopefully words of comfort into his little ears.

The length of his messy and tangled skin shows neglect. His little feet had glass shards embedded in his skin. Thankfully after a warm bowl of water and a towel later I found out that most of the blood wasn’t his. But the sheer amount made it look like it was poured onto him.

I rub my thumb over his cheek, it's not plump. Not like a toddlers should be. God if i can't pump him full of sweets and milk like any pup should be i will jump from Wayne tower.

I feel my chest start to purr as the My pup sleeps while fitfully, but he's alive and sleeping off whatever has happened to him.

I curl protectively around his sleeping form, regardless of blood literally everywhere. I Need to cover him with my scent, he reeks of fear and pain. The Omegan need to cuddle and comfort is strong, it is probably the baby smell he has.

The distinct scent that extremely young pups let off while they still need milk regularly. Oh shit, I need milk for the poor thing as he’ll need plenty when he wakes. I can't risk the pit affecting my supplies so formula it is.

I rub his back, avoiding bumps as I go. God, I can feel my body already adjusting to care for him. The dampness on my shirt definitely not blood, shit I've already claimed the poor thing as mine…Haven't i?

I huff out a breath, rubbing my chin on the small head of black hair. The sound of his labored breathing haunts my nightmares that night.

Chapter Text

The Lady was Draped in a black veil that dragged behind her. The long dress looked like an old back wedding dress. It looked as though she bent the shadows around her. She wore long pearls jewelry that draped and hung against her dress like stars on a black night.

She moved almost inhumanly like she glided instead of walking, each step moved slowly and deliberately as she walked up to me. The click of her heels was strange seeing as she walked on my rug.

Her arms are heavy weighted with something strange. And whatever it is? It’s breathing, and I can hear it. A scent wafted underneath my nose tickling something deep inside that I had locked away.

It's mine. . ? I feel like I should take whatever she holds from her, I feel as though my feet are weighted to the floor. I need to calm down. It smells new, something other than the Green in my chest purrs contentedly.

All of a sudden I had a pup in my arms. He smelled pain, fear and agony and oh so new. There is no underlying Scent of a pack on that baby's skin, Just steel and antiseptic medicine.

“He will not survive without you, little bird. As he has no one left I intrust him to you”

First thing I noticed about the child tucked in my arms is the red, the sheer amount of it caused the room to become a darker tint of green.

BLOOD? Is it his blood?

But the woman had just said he wouldn’t survive without me, is she.. asking for help?.. Help was a BIG fuckin’ understatement he needs a god-damned intervention!

He had such horrific gashes and cuts all over his little body, and god his little chest was nearly about to split open and spill just his little guts on the floor. Held together only with a really shitty staple job.

And that's just the main wound, i don't think i could stand to stomach looking him over. But not doing that may cause more harm. So i suck it up. . .

I look over each injury, past or present. Looking for any at the risk of infection. My chest sang while holding the child so close. Yet my veins burned at the mere thought that someone had hurt a pup this badly and was still breathing.

But falling into the pit of rage that tried to flood my mind with the thought of vengeance wouldn't help him, not while he’s this hurt.

The woman had daintily lifted her hand to me, holding nothing but a small folded paper. I reach to take it but she is just gone, not another word or sound as the paper falls to the ground.

She left.

I’d question if someone had tampered with my pain medication but the small whimper and the slight weight in my arms brings me back to reality.

Fuck.

My hands are trembling and bloody. I want to tap my emergency contact for Dick, if anyone would know what to do it would be him. My Older brother has always been good with this kinda stuff.

Fucking fuck, i feel his blood seep into my shirt. I lay the kid on my couch and pray to the first god i think of, because this child just filled a hole i couldn’t the whole of my re-life.

I need to move, so I set the poor little thing on my couch and try and think.

My Omega whines at the loss of contact, A pup was hurt this badly and his care was left to me. This kid is mine, one one will hurt a hair on his tiny head so long as I live and die.

And if he dies before i even see his little face wake up and smile at me i'm going to fucking explode again.

I grab the paper off the floor and sprint around the safe house looking for all the medical supplies I have. Fuck i need more than what i currently have but going to the manor is my LAST choice right now.

I track copious amounts of blood, both his and my own through the house as I scramble for anything remotely helpful to treat his injuries.

I take a pair of scissors I randomly found and cut off the wet medical gown off him, Filing all the injury types away for later me to address based on severity.

I didn't remove the stitches as we are not in a sterile environment for proper treatment. It’ll have to wait till tomorrow. Plus it looks like they are the only thing keeping his little guts in, I couldn't stomach it if I hurt him any more, so I just treat the injuries I can.

I slump into the chair against my couch, hands stained red and slick with a vile amalgamation of bodily fluids, its a disgusting scent mix of pain sickness and pup. I want to lick his little face clean, an impulse that comes with having a new pup.

I ignore the impulse and grab a soft towel and a warm bowl of water and wipe his skin clean. I can't properly treat his injuries when he is covered in blood and gore. Plus it gets rid of the scent of steel and pain.
I try to avoid his injuries so as to not cause any more pain to him. But he doesn't wake. Maybe his injuries have caused him to crash because he’s not even flinching.

I growl in my throat at the realization, but I can't stay mad as it’s honestly a small mercy he can’t feel as I stitch up his gashes while they still pour blood and stain my hands.

After the worst of his injuries are sewn closed I look inside my emergency kit and dig around for a numbing gel to apply on his wounds, i don't want him to be in more pain.

I need to take him to get treated by someone. I don't have everything he needs here. I slump next to him before remembering that paper.

I pull it from my pocket and open it.

It says only two things.

“Tell Daniel we love him. But he can never return. -CW”

I Have no clue who the hell cw is but they probably sent daniel here, Daniel. . .That's his name. I purr tiredly as I nuzzle his neck, I can't help it he no longer smells like blood and pain. Just soap and baby.

I want scent him, but I think blood loss is getting to me, because grab my communicator and try to call lesslie. But fuck im so tired. I press what's hopefully her name and sigh.

I don't know when the exhaustion gets to me but I realise I'm sleeping when I hear the dreadful sound of gotham, there are no morning birds to greet me. The only thing I hear is the restless screaming and the faint huffing breath of the toddler.

Before that breath turns to screams of agony and pain. I scramble up and out of my seat close to him and immediately pick him up and hold him close.

He looks less pale compared to last night, despite his ashen skin telling a story of a child who used to be outside frequently he looks less pale. The screaming turns to whimpers as I hold him purring and mumbling hopefully words of comfort into his little ears.

The length of his messy and tangled skin shows neglect. His little feet had glass shards embedded in his skin. Thankfully after a warm bowl of water and a towel later I found out that most of the blood wasn’t his. But the sheer amount made it look like It was poured onto him.

I rub my thumb over his cheek, it's not plump. Not like a toddlers should be. God if i can't pump him full of sweets and milk like any pup should be i will jump from Wayne tower.

I feel my chest start to purr as the My pup sleeps while fitfully, but he's alive and sleeping off whatever has happened to him.

I curl protectively around his sleeping form, regardless of blood literally everywhere. I Need to cover him with my scent, he reeks of fear and pain. The Omegan need to cuddle and comfort is strong, it is probably the baby smell he has.

The distinct scent that extremely young pups let off while they still need milk regularly. Oh shit, I need milk for the poor thing as he’ll need plenty when he wakes. I can't risk the pit affecting my supplies so formula it is.

I rub his back, avoiding bumps as I go. God, I can feel my body already adjusting to care for him. The dampness on my shirt definitely not blood, shit I've already claimed the poor thing as mine…Haven't i?

I huff out a breath, rubbing my chin on the small head of black hair. The sound of his labored breathing haunts my nightmares that night.

Chapter Text

Danny

I wake in a purr? Where am i?

Everything feels so. . .Warm, and safe. Ancients, I haven't felt this good in well, in a long time. . I try to ignore the faint traces of fear that chill me at the base of my spine.

I can feel my cracked core humm a content little tune, and by the infinite realms it feels so good. I think I've forgotten how good it actually feels to be this relaxed. To feel this safe. . .

I'm laying on something warm, the warmth soothes my bruises and injuries. My staples don't really hurt, even as I lay heavily on my chest wound. Good, I'm already healing. The sooner the better.

My brain is fuzzy as this strange feeling washes over me with every breath I take, like I'm completely and utterly safe.

I have to tell the woman thank you for grabbing me, I was afraid the GIW Agents would try and follow me through the portal i jumped through.

As they are Definitely careless enough to attempt to follow me.

The space is washed in this warm light and my head feels blurry, the space around me feels so. . . Strange. . ? I don't know how to explain it. I definitely don’t know where I am, but I'm not scared. So that’s good.

God’s my whole body feels so heavy, did that strange woman drug me? No wait, I'm a halfa, she couldn’t have even if she did attempt it, it wouldn’t work for very long.

I sluggishly move my head and realize that I'm not on the floor. As the floor is far below me. And there’s a heavy and warm hand on my back.

I try to force my stupid happy brain to focus on who I'm laying on. It feels like a spirit? If not a little tainted, but that makes me feel safer.

I huff and hear a chuckle above my head.

 

Jason

The Sun is my newest enemy. Because if it doesn't go away I will start shooting at it, and trust me when i say thats a fight i Will fucking win.

Why? One may ask why a crime lord hates the fucking sun? It’s because it woke my poor pup. Which is strange as I live in Gotham and we typically see the sun like twice a year.

I look down at the little curled black haired puppy laying on my chest, he’s huffing at nothing while he purrs. It’s so cute, is this what Dick means when he says pup’s give him cuteness aggression? I could coo at how content yet pouty he looks right now.

He’s looking down at me with these big sleepy blue eyes, I don't think there’s a proper thought behind those eyes and instead that little head of his.

I'm going pup crazy already. . .

His little nose twitched at my scent, I had practically poured it over him in his sleep the night before. He might be a little overwhelmed by it, but he’ll adjust in time. I couldn’t help but hold him as kept whining in his sleep, the poor thing was trembling.

A small sigh escapes Daniel’s pouty face as he chirps out a hungry whining sound. Ah, shit. I sit up holding him to my uncomfortably wet chest.

I can't even feed him as I don't know how the hell the pit affected my body as a whole. I can clearly feel that my chest is fine, but what about everything else? Will I make him sick. . ?

It's in my blood, the flecks of green that haunt the darkest places of my mind. Along with the haunting laughter and the fire that licks at my heels. I sit up, tucking him into my arms as I walk into the kitchen. A whining pup on my hip as I go looking through my cabinets and my thoughts.

All I own is a box of rice and nutrient bars. I live like I'm ready to die again. Frankly this shits actually kinda tragic. . ? Oh god, maybe self care is like actually a good thing? Sorry Alfie you were right.

A small sniffle pulls me from my thoughts.

I push my nose into one of Danny's chubby cheeks. “Sorry pup, I'm ashamed to say but I can't feed you like this. We’ll have to go out a get you some formula”

He huffed at me. And I saw his little milk teeth and I could start biting those little cheeks. Oh my god am I high? Why is this- MY baby so cute?

He’s my pup now.

“Wat kind person has only a bosh of rice in the cabinet?” He looks at me with this disappointed and pouty look. The same kind of look a puppy makes when they sass you for something they think is dumb.

I smirk at him, “What can I say? I'm a simple man.” He rolls his eyes at me and lays his head on my shoulder. I would prefer him to acclimate to my scent before we actually go outside. As new pups tend to get scent sick when surrounded by many other scents at young ages.

Especially when being deprived for so long, all he smelled like last night was nothing but fear and cold metal. No pack, no family.

But the Pup needs to eat, and until I get checked out and cleared I'm not trusting my own supply. So i'll just ignore the uncomfortable heaviness that definitely NOT the sleepy and scent drunk pup in my arms.

I grab one of my warmest leather jackets and tuck him in with me, and he fits perfectly. He's too fucking small, but he can talk. So I know he’s at least 2-3 years old.

The weather is still a little chilly after Mr. Freeze’s stunt last week, so I tucked his little legs into my jacket aswell. I tuck my arm under his little butt and put a hand on my back. I need to get him some clothes, Fast.

I look down at big blue eyes looking back at me “Ready to go kid?” A smirk practically travels into my voice. “I ain’t got nuffin else ta do” He has a bit of an accent. Southern? Also adorable as hell.

I walk out into the building hall. I live on the fourth floor as it’s the best level to work from. The streets are mostly empty, nothing as it’s 12 am but a few people lining the streets.

But this is Crime Alley, so you can never be too comfortable. Even being a crime lord.

“Pup” I nudged the sleepy little thing clutching my shirt inside my jacket. “Do you know how you got into my apartment?” I look down at him, and he looks at me mildly confused.

“I was hurt an, an ths lady fouded me, she was nice. Ans said you's safe” I looked at the store building across the street, not too far trying to process what i'm hearing.

That woman, she had sounded so much like my mother. It was disgusting. But she had given the pup to me, so next time I see her I won't shoot. At least not immediately, but I'll definitely question her.

My pup is mostly sleeping, which is no surprise as he’s currently injured. But I still check his pupils. They're a little blown, still overwhelmed by my scent. Omega or not I still always have the underlying anger in my scent.

Originally I smelled of Rain, but I guess dying changes things like that. Now I have an underlying scent of ash, like the rain that comes after a forest fire.

I fucking hate it.The scar on my nape reminds me that i gave up my instincts.

In the league, those who present as omegas slit their napes, to ensure they cannot be mated to anyone. As cutting an omegas nape means to break the scent glands underneath, if I have no sweetness to my scent. Then my heats have no real effect.

It’s both a relief and a tragedy.

Crossing the street I avoid any camera’s i see, as stalking is a form of love language between Bruce’s Gaggle of children. And I don't want to be harassed while my pup can barely stay conscious due to injuries he has.

This store I walked into has a lot of children’s supplies near the back, and it’s relatively empty. Good, I smile down at Daniel's sleeping face as I grab a cart and tuck his head in a little more.

He’s probably drained from being this cute constantly. I doubt anyone will comment on why i'm looking into my jacket

I snort to myself as I walk through the isle of pup items, grabbing toddler sized clothes, shoes, and underwear. I don't think he needs potty training. But getting pull-ups overnight might be a good idea.

I’m walking past the aisle full of baking supplies, and nearly freeze. Because why in the stupid fucking luck is Alfred here?

Chapter Text

I quickly duck behind the nearest shelf, knocking over a glass pack of bottles. Why? Because my grandfather is right fucking there. And being no contact for nearly 18 months and coming home with a young child as an omega doesn't sound like a good idea. At ALL.

Damn this is starting to feel like a dramatic teen drama.

And there is no question that my Danny baby is absolutely mine. I can fucking feel it somewhere deep in my chest, a pull or a buzz in my ribs, and it sighs how mine danny is. The normally green and all encompassing rage purrs like a plump, feed and content fucking kitten.

It kinda pisses me off, in a normal way though. Which is saying a lot for me.

All I can currently think about is how stupidly adorable my Puppy is when he gives me his signature pouty frown while making the most irritated little chirp his little lungs can muster.

I can almost taste how annoyed he is at being jostled at my movements, or how he’s hungry but too tired to do more than nuzzle at my chest.

I'm gonna need a nursing bra at this rate. As I'm sure everyone can smell the milky new pup scent coming off me. And i fucking love it.

But you couldn't waterboard a single word from that sentence out of me.

I immediately curse under my breath because if Alfie sees me looking like I do now I'll get scolded like a pup for not visiting. And giving Bruce his first grandchild, even if it was completely by accident.

I berly have the current mental capacity to not say screw it and just settle down in the home section of this fucking malmart and start nesting then and there.

But the grumpy-hungry face looking up at me and the clack of polished Italian loafer tells me that this is a battle I won't be winning today.

Alfred walks into the same aisle I'm currently frozen in, probably looking to help out. It was just the kind of man he was. Always willing to be there and support others.

He freezes, I can see it in his eyes as a flash of recognition crosses his features, he looks gray, whether it be from stress or the passage of time.

I can see his nose twitching then he takes a moment to look me over and to look into my cart. The plethora of baby and toddler supplies is really prevalent, and the Milky baby smell wafting from me.

I smell like I just got out of a Maternity Ward strictly for omegas. If he asks I'll just. . . I dont fuckin’ know say i birthed him at home? Yeah that. . ?

Well. . . This is a surefire way to become the favorite child in the family, as Alfie's face lights up in that little way a grandparent does when they see their grandchild for the first time, the same way it did when I was a child first entering the manner.

I open my mouth to speak but all I manage to do is just chuff at him. I mix between a purr and a cough which flushes my face immediately. I hope to God the cute little face that looks over at Alfie distracts him from my ragged state.

Or from the fact that I have no groceries for me in my cart. food can wait, or even worse he smells the hurt on Danny.

This is so awkward as we've been staring at each other for what feels like forever. In reality it's been like 2 seconds and I'm monologuing Someone Save Me.

“I see we cannot leave any of the young masters or mistresses alone for too long.” Alfred has to smirk in his voice that makes me feel like I'm a pup again, like he just caught me with my hands in the cookie jar.

Both scolding me and yet showing how much he misses me. “And who might his young lad be?” But Danny just yawns his cute little milk teeth and I see Alfered’s face soften. And I know that I've won him over already.

I clear my throat and look up at Alfred squaring my shoulders like I was always taught to, showing confidence I don't feel “Alfie this is Danny my pup, and he's almost 2” Alfred's eyes widened for a moment before nodding stiffly at me. I can recognize the small flash of hurt in his eye, or the way his scent spices with the hint of pain.

Sorry Alfred but I'm kind of in a rush. You can question me later, I can help it as I turn away pushing my shitty cart with a mildly annoying fucking faulty wheel away.

Alfred doesn't follow me. A small part of me is a little disappointed, but having a pup meeting others so soon is risky. Hell just being outside right now grates on my frayed nerves, it makes me want to start snarling at anyone who looks at me too long.

The sound of the city waking up drowns out any and all of my thoughts as I grab a few more essential items. Things like Socks, kid dosage vitamins, a pack of pacifiers, and a stupid fucking pack of maternity bra’s.

Because I'm positive I'm gonna drown the kid in leather and milk and it’s pissing me off.

Pennyworth

I watch the broad back of my currently fleeing Jaylad. It is almost humorous, Jason has alway been a hot-headed young man. So to see him look so frantic and feral gives this old man warm reminders of the young lad he had once been.

So bright and yet dimmed by the cruelty of the world. The scent that had wafted for my Jay was so stressed and worried. It was making even the staff watch him anxiously as he scanned his items.

And the underlying scent of pain was not lost on me, I'm worried. I want to ask how to help.

But cornering him now wouldn't help sooth my wayward grandson, what matters most is my grandson and his new young lad.

Amusement warms my face and softens my worries, the hurt of Jason's choice to go dark for so long is cold when a flutter of those long lashes look back at me.
The soft and full head of dark hair with a subtle streak of white that cuts his left brow warms me. And those eyes, one the eerie green that hunts my family so. The other a clear blue, it seems my Jason has found the part of innocence he had lost.

And I don't miss the look of utter love in Jason’s eyes. No hint of the mind numbing rage he had exhibited last I'd seen him.

The clean cut on my boy’s nape, worn like a collar with a broken chain. The metal still weighs heavy, but with arms and chest heavy with pup is almost a poem made with no words.

I'd be tempted to paint it if I had the skill. But I was never one to sit still, so until he comes home I will make room for him.

My grandson who feels we have filled his place with another will make space for his return. So I made my way to the nearest baby and mother section.

I have a Missed almost 2 years of gifts after all. I chuckle to myself, a weight off my shoulder and my heart full.

Jason

I nearly crashed onto my knees in relief. “That was sooo fuckin’ awkward.” I rub my nose into a sleepy Danny’s hair. Huffing in Puppy scent like an addict while I put away my new supplies.

I'm just getting food delivered, and I still have to meet with leslie. Weird how I texted her 2- no 3 and a half hours ago. And She hasn’t respond yet?

I sat Danny on the couch and sat next to him, he only fussed a little at being put down. I pull out my phone as u pat his little butt. Oh, she responded to me.

She texted that she’s open and to come in before official work hours. “Ok then, need to pack some items first.”

I make a bottle of puppy formula and a few numbing solutions in my tactical bag, along with a few blades. Guns are too loud to use near a pup without causing harm.

Then I slowly attempt to change Danny into a romper and diaper, both sized at 18T and it’s a good fit. And all without waking him up.

My chest buzzes in pain as I look at his bandaged little torso. But He’ll get chest looked at by a professional and family friend.

I gather Danny up into my arms, wincing a little at his murmur of pain in his exhaustion caused sleep. Pup and diaper bag in hand as we head out again.