#Also i bet tim does the thing where he turns into a different person with them from stephs perspective

[misspickman]

The thing about young justice is theyre fucking gatekeepers. Steph can never be one of them bc theyre just Like That. Remember when they let ray in but only until bart and tim returned and then immediately told him to leave? ❌❌ you are not ❌❌ a part of the Squad ❌❌

[capricorn-stark]

Late Night Drives w the Batboys

warning: none

a/n: just trying headcanons lol, lmk me what you think. also, tysm once again for 100 follows you guys!!!

Dick Grayson

The drives probably happen after a date or after he picks you up from work/uni on a Friday night

First thing he does every time is turning on the radio

He’s down for whatever you like listening to, but if you’re good with anything it’s probably just pop hits

You’ll probably hear him humming some of the tunes under his breath or tapping his fingers against the wheel to match the beat

He loves talking and making conversations with you while driving

Will tell you about all sorts of crazy shit going on in his life, whether it’s about his day job or what happens during patrols

Loves listening to your stories and about the random issues going on in your life, gives great advice (when it’s not him making the decisions) and is just generally wonderful to talk to

He feels like the type of guy to take your hand while he’s driving or when you’re just sitting at a red light or stuck in traffic

You’re either going to drive around for the sake of driving around, or he’ll take you to one of Bludhaven’s docks or some hillside, some place with a nice view

Sitting on the hood of his car and just talking while he holds your hand, wraps his arms around your waist, brushes your hair out of your face

Just little things that make you know he’s paying attention and makes you feel like he really loves you, which he does

Jason Todd

If you’re in a car, he would be blasting music and it would probably be both of you screaming out the lyrics to the song that’s on

I feel like there would be a time where one of you doesn’t know the lyrics and tries to discreetly look them up without the other person realizing it

The other person totally figures that out and you never let them live it down

Probably the handsier type, one hand on the wheel while he drives, other hand resting on your thigh

Acts like he doesn’t know the effect he has on you 

But he definitely does, considering how long you’ve been together

I also feel like he’d probably take you for trips on his bike instead of a car, though, so if you’re taking his bike: 

He likes having your arms wrapped around him while he drives, he likes feeling you relax and resting your head against his shoulder

He loves driving, so he might just take you down long mostly-empty roads and just fly through the night

Depending on his mood and yours you could be talking about anything from his dark traumatic past to discussing how great the new chilidog place is downtown

With Jason you can literally never tell

Will probably pull over at some point to chill on his bike, talk, or kiss

He’s bad at telling you he loves you so times like these are his way of letting you know that

Driving is his way to escape, and he loves having you there with him to feel like you and him are the only things that matter for a little while

Tim Drake

You’re probably the one dragging him out of the house or his office just to get him to stop working for an hour or so

He’ll definitely protest saying he has “so much work to do” and how he’s “so close to being done”, but you both know he secretly loves taking a break just to drive with you

It’s mostly just you guys talking about absolutely anything and everything, from his life at WE to philosophical debates about stupid shit

And I mean just random, stupid shit

“If you drop soap on the floor, is the floor clean or is the soap dirty?"

“If I try to fail, but succeed, which one did I do?"

“...Tim, is this a personal question? Because I feel like you’re talking about something you personally went through right now-”

He gets really into these kind of conversations

You’ll probably stop by a drive-through to grab something to eat while chilling in your car

He’ll let you steal his fries 

Unless he was talking about how his day was going and brings up the office, he won’t even mention work

He’s definitely way more interested in you and what you have to say, he loves hearing about your problems and trying to think of ways to help you get around them

These would be some of the few times he really gets to forget about everything else and focus on just you, and he loves it

Damian Wayne (aged up) 

Honey, he steals the Batmobile

Like actually, he’s done it before in the comics to impress chicks and you can bet he’d do it again

If he acts this way as a literal twelve year old imagine what he’s gonna do when he’s older

You’d have a fine time perusing around in it, clicking all the weird buttons it has just to “test out” the different functions

You may or may not have accidentally activated the flamethrowers Bruce had installed for unknown reasons

And that may or may not have ended up getting you guys caught after some poor GCPD officer on a late shift saw the Batmobile zooming down the street with a whole column of fire shooting out of it, but it ended up being okay because Damian acted like he didn’t know what his father was talking about when he was confronted with it

Otherwise, you’d probably end up on a late night drive after you and Damian decide to ditch a gala or some random fancy party

“It was far too stuffy to stay in that place, Father will understand our absence.”

“Damian, you were hosting the event.”

He lets you do most of the talking during the drive because he likes listening to you and the sound of your voice

He’ll still act all cool, but he’ll be smiling and letting out the occasional laugh at your stories here and there, adding on his own snarky comments or stories every once in a while

Instead of going home, he’ll probably want to take you somewhere to grab dinner or just to head to a nice part of Gotham to get a moment between yourselves and enjoy a pretty view

He feels like the type of guy who would really be into grand gestures and giving you the best of the best for literally everything

So your late night drives are little moments where he’s dialing all that back just to get some time alone with you, listen to you, and get to know you better 

And as much as he’ll deny it to everyone else, he’d love those moments the most

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop 

[dairy-farmer]

I saw a post in tumblr what it said "Hal Jordan being awkwardly dad-like to Tim and unwittingly engaging in a custody battle with Batman". It would be so funny because we know Bruce hates Hal. And Hal He thinks Bruce doesn't pay enough attention to his third Robin

no because this is fascinating to meeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (also does anyone know the og post because im curious to see what else it said!)

i really think that this is something that could be very plausible if you hold up hal jordan to tim's dad jack drake!!! now of course tim's dad is decades older and a businessman and after his almost death in haiti he sort of...settles down a bit.

but tim remembers being very young and he remembers what his dad was like then. i have this personal headcanon that jack drake is really a sort of 'all american boy' like we know he played football at some point and was very happy and excited when tim told him he tried out for the football team even though he didn't make it. jack was upset that tim came home with a black eye until tim told him he got it from football tryouts because he wanted to be like him and follow in his footsteps and jack drake was almost...touched. before forgetting his anger and essentially patting tim on the back saying it was okay if he didn't make it because he got out there and he took it like a man. jack even kept his old football helmet and gave it to tim which made tim feel even guiltier for lying to him. that, to me, doesn't seem like someone who just played football in highschool. jack drake seems like the type to have played full-on college football, good enough to make it in those leagues but not quite good enough to go pro.

and hal jordan? 100% a football and sports guy.

tim remembers new years and christmas parties where his parents would take him to college friends' parties. where jack would sit him on a different broad and thickly built man's lap and introduce him as an old teammate. you best believe that tim's family held superbowl parties it was one of the few times they returned home so now tim has an encyclopedia of old sports knowledge he gather to impress his dad and his dad's friends.

bruce only knows surface level details to carry on a conversation if it comes up during a gala and only about gotham teams.

so him seething in a corner as hal and tim start small talking which devolves into a near hour long dicussion on various teams and their odds of winning. hal ends up changing his yearly superbowl bet due to tim's input and wins the whole thing. he buys tim lunch the next time they're at the watchtower.

not just hal being awkwardly dad-like, hal being the exact kind of dad that tim always wanted from his father. because bruce is a goodish dad (when he tries) and tim appreciates him a lot and they have a lot in common. but hal is that highschool jock turned cool pilot and tim's dad was a jock turned international explorer and businessman. tim listens to hal talk and doesn't see the doucheiness and cockiness that bruce sees because hal behaves exactly like his dad and his dad's friends. hal is the type of person tim's dad would've called 'a real stand-up guy".

so hal unintentionally kind of being the dad nerdy little tim wanted. because hal doesn't know a ton about star wars or wizards and warlocks or any of tim's geeky interests but he's nice and he listens and maybe even becomes interested in them and tim is just all sparkle-eyed looking up at hal because dad? dad shaped man? all for me?? he thinks what i say is interesting????

hal definitely doesn't think he's dad matierial (he can barely keep a houseplant alive) but tim's an incredibly self sufficient kid so hal likes him. he's also responsible enough for both of them so hal doesn't even really feel like he's babysitting when tim is with him. he just feels like he's hanging out with a much smaller dude.

plus hal sort of feels sorry for the third robin. hal's not the most sensitive guy in the world but even he can see the difference between how the big and scary bat treated his first two robins compared to how he treated the third. yeah hal can call bats an asshole and a shitty dad but at the end of the day nothing changes and bats never puts much weight into his words anyway.

hal tells tim tales about growing up with his rowdy bunch of brothers and listens and nods as tim tells him about his asshole older brothers and classmates who like to pick on him because he's all small and stuff. and hal feels for the kid, being small is just begging for someone to come around and mess with you.

so hal offers some (probably bad) advice on dealing with people and...tim is suspended from school for three days, dick cries after they have to cut gum out of his hair, and jason's stuck feeling like he's perpetually sticky for weeks until he unscrew his shower head and finds a partially dissolved jolly rancher.

tim gets grounded but the next time hall sees him the kid is sparkling and blushing as he lets out a quiet thanks and hal's heart just does a little jump.

he feels like one of those people who coo at pictures of baby deer and puppies.

but even better. hal talks just like tim's dad used to. some intonation, same catchphrases and even same reprimands and compliments.

so like imagine that scene in brooklyn 99 where one of the characters 'jake' accidentally slips and calls the captain dad after he gets complimented and then the gag is the rest of the squad insisting he called him dad while jake denies it. at the end the captain says that he takes it as a compliment and half seriously half jokingly asks if they can talk about it over a game of catch to which jake, fully serious, says he'd like that.

that. that happens and bruce walks in on tim and hal in the watchtower throwing a baseball back and forth with each other and hal uses his ring to catch the balls that tim throws slightly too high.

asfdsdg

fuck it. tim telling hal he never learned how to ride a bike and hal literally buying one for his birthday and teaching him how to use it in front of the very amused guests to tim's birthday.

oh bruce for sure is using bureaucrat justice league politics and shit to get hal ejected or deployed by the lanterns though that stops because tim gets sad.

im dying- tim choosing hal to be one of his father figures like he did to bruce and there's nothing. bruce. can. do. about. it aside from try to be the better dad between the two of them.

tim leaves a father's day card and 'world's best father' mug at the watchtower and it was like the apple of discord when three goddess fought over an apple that said it was 'for the fairest'. (oliver was the third one because he though it'd be hilarious). in the end diana, in true greek fashion, rips the card into thirds and shatters the mug, to give them each a piece.

this would be hilarious just the contrast of tim nailing hal down as his father whether he likes it or not and bruce having to deal with sharing custody of his LEGAL son with someone he very much does not like.

perfection <3.

[bigskydreaming]

Headcanon that everyone within the family may think of Dick as the one most in their father’s favor, but Dick is keenly aware that the general public thinks of him as their father’s ‘Consolation Prize.’

After all, when from their perspective he’s the one Bruce raised since he was eight as his ward, with that dissolving when he was eighteen and very little perceived contact between the two of them for years after that, while Jason was adopted soon after being taken in and Dick was then later adopted years after Jason’s death, without any public fanfare.....

What does that look like other than Bruce ‘settling’ for the son who didn’t appear to be his first choice, just chronologically first, once he lost Jason but still needed/wanted an heir, as he was getting older and the general public still didn’t know yet how closely tied Tim was to the family or that it wouldn’t be long after this that Bruce adopted him too?

Now granted, you can definitely perceive the above as overly angsty and not the only way this situation was likely to be perceived outside the family, but my point is more that like.....nobody ever presumes that the general public are overly kind or generous in their views or assumptions about the Wayne family behavior. I just don’t buy that people assumed there was some optimistic explanation for the way things appeared here, or that people just went “oh its probably because the kid who grew up in that house the longest just doesn’t WANT to be adopted by the billionaire and have all the security that brings, and that’s also clearly why he lives in Bludhaven of all places and a shitty apartment building at that.”

I mean, no matter what WE the readers may know of Dick’s personal priorities and how little he cares about where he lives or that Bruce would have willingly paid for him to have a better place to live if he really wanted it, is that what people are most likely to assume, based on appearances?

Anyway, I’m just saying, I bet it bugs the crap out of Dick to hear his siblings casually refer to him as so obviously enjoying favored son status and being the clear apple of Bruce’s eye, as he’s like, cue internal monologue: gee, sure wish I was as confident of that back during the years he seemed to want nothing to do with me.

Like I’ve said before, I think Dick isn’t actually super insecure and his insecurities such as they are mostly revolve around how his family and friends perceive him, not the general public.....BUT I do think that with as high profile as the Waynes are, there’s no way that nobody picked up on how little contact Dick and Bruce had in the continuities where they literally went over a year without even speaking to each other....and like, felt free to draw their own conclusions.

 And I do think this is also part of why I default to thinking a lot of canon takes and headcanons tend to gloss over how shitty Gotham public could be in their views/treatment of Dick. Like just because Dick was basically trained from birth to be able to work a room and entertain people while in their direct presence, that didn’t actually make him ‘one of them’ in their eyes, and I reeeeeeaally don’t think you can actually underestimate the pettiness and jealousy one percenters feel when they see someone they inherently view as lesser than them - as they would’ve viewed both Dick and Jason due to their lower class births - like....’leap frogging’ over them into greater wealth via being taken in by Bruce. 

Like, idk, maybe it just comes from having been a scholarship kid who went to a richy rich private high school attended mostly by the children of senators and hotel-chain owners, lol, but like.......I can not for a second picture Gotham’s upper class actually LIKING Dick or being as charmed by him as they frequently are depicted as, just because Dick knows how to be charming and likable. Like they might play it that way when in public at a gala, for appearances or whatever....but the second he turned around they’d be badmouthing him at juuuuust a high enough volume to ensure he’d be able to HEAR them but not be able to call them on it without it looking like he went back and provoked a scene over something ‘nobody else around them heard them say’ or whatever. Just to make sure that no matter how well he came across in public social settings, he never ‘forgot his place’ or whatever or forgot that they were all too aware of it too.

And also also, it always kinda bemuses me that as much focus as the Court of Owls and Talons get in Dick’s narratives in canon and fic, that we’ve barely ever seen any examination of what the Court retroactively means for Dick’s years growing up around upper class Gothamites who likely included more than a few Court members.....like, we KNOW years later that like, all along there were these people who even without knowing who Batman and Robin were, like, knew Dick Grayson was their ‘Gray Son’ and intended to claim him as their weapon someday, and you can’t tell me that wouldn’t have factored into how they viewed and interacted with a child and teenage Dick Grayson as they attended many of the same social gatherings and functions. OR that Dick himself in the aftermath of the Court of Owls reveal, didn’t look back at his OWN childhood and reflect on how many creepy or uncomfortable encounters he had with various socialites that left him feeling decidedly skeeved out and not a fan of how they were looking at him or things they might have said to him, thinking themselves oh so clever for alluding to things he had no idea about......like, I imagine there had to be more than a few encounters from his younger years that always stuck with him, and after the Court of Owls revelation like....looked TOTALLY different to him, especially if he happened to know for sure that some of those very people were in fact Court members. BUT I DIGRESS.

All in all though it all circles back to the same thought for me.....people might have been polite to Dick’s face when he was growing up, but they most likely had plenty of shit to say the second his back was turned, and I doubt they were afraid to be overheard by him. Especially in his later years, once people noticed how distant he and Bruce seemed to be, and thus perceived that as meaning that nineteen year old Dick Grayson wasn’t as ‘protected’ by Bruce the way he was when he was younger.....meaning the people who were most jealous of Dick’s ‘catapulting’ up the social ladder and eager to knock him down a peg because of that, like....probably would have looked at the relative lack of contact between he and Bruce as far as anyone could publicly tell, and felt emboldened enough by that to up their snide whisper game with shit like gossipping about how oh, the Grayson boy may be back in Gotham again, but we all know he’s just poor Brucie’s consolation prize anyway, why, if he really cared all that much about the boy, he’d hardly have ever let him run off to Bludhaven of all places, without even making sure to staple the advantages and opportunities granted by the Wayne name to him the way he made sure to right off the bat with the younger one.....

So yeah. There’s my angsty musings on how Dick likely is perceived by Gotham public at large, and how his interactions with them - especially when NOT around Bruce and Jason and the rest of his family....probably very much does not match up with what they assume public perception of Dick is, given that in their eyes ‘everybody loves Dick Grayson,’ but in Dick’s experience ‘everybody may be charmed by Dick Grayson while he’s doing his best to be charming,’ but don’t mistake that for acceptance. Not when Gotham’s public are just as likely to dismiss him as the second choice Wayne heir and consolation prize to make themselves feel more important/elevated than him the second their own insecurities have them feeling intimidated by the wealth, power and prestige Dick does actually share in by virtue of being part of Bruce’s family.

[rainydaysandhappydays]

Okay! What about a ally that have some mirror related powers? Like, they mirror have they one mind and personally, they can create small pocket dimensions, manipulate reflections and travel between mirrors/reflective object?

I assume this is for Creepypasta headcannons? Because that's what I did. I'm also going to make the idea that the power set you are describing is similar to Charlotte Brûlée from One Piece. So I'll be using her ability set for a basis for these headcannons. I'm also going to use my previous headcannons here that state that an ally is different than the proxies or of any romantic interest. If you wanted something else please send in another ask being a bit more specific!

CPs with an ally that has mirror abilities

SlenderMan

He finds your abilities very useful. Since you are able to appear to nearly any reflective surface he makes sure to have you be a spy in some way.

He's not too worried about you being able to take care of yourself because you have an easier time reflecting other's abilities and being able to run away than most other pastas.

Though he does make sure that he rarely, if ever, sends you on high combat missions because while you have great tacticle value, your abilities alone are not that great for fighting.

He also makes sure to tell you the exact location of any targets you may have, or as close as he can confirm to be thier whereabouts, because he's learned that in your mirror pocket dimension where you're able to move about freely between mirrors, you have to remember or learn where each and every mirror leads to. And that's not the easiest task. So he tries to be a bit more accommodating on that front.

Other than that, he sees you in just the same light as he would the other allies. Not a threat, but also not someone he would rely on too much. You may be working with/for him right now, but humans are always unpredictable so he's not making any bets on where your loyalties lie.

Jeff The Killer

He finds your abilities dope af!! Please try and scare the other creeps!! He'll even pay you if you can get (E)Jack or Maskey to scream!

He tries to get you to use your powers for evil(pranks) and cruel machinations(stealing other's things and keeping them in your dimension as hostage). He is such an edgefest it's actually almost adorable if it weren't for the fact that he has a knife and knows how to use it.

If you ever use your powers to pull pranks on him or steal some of his things to hold hostage he will become the most over the top pouty bitch about it.

"WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE PARTNERS IN CRIME!! HOW COULD YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME AND BETRAY ME SO!!! BOO HOO HOO!!"

Kind of like that. It's extremely annoying. For everyone. Even for people not involved because he will go out of his way to complain and pout around the others so that they will eventually get sick of his shit and tell you to fix the problem.

As irritating as it is, he has the amazing(?) ability to get what he wants. Through being a whiny bitch about it until someone else steps up. It's both fascinating and incredibly disheartening to watch.

Eyeless Jack

Doesn't really care all that much sorry.

He does think it's an interesting ability don't get him wrong. But compared to all the other wacky shit the other pastas are capable of doing your power set is just another to add to the books.

If you are able to surprised him with something you're able to do that he didn't originally anticipate, then you will get his interest pinned to you until he sees every ability you are capable of. You won't be able to hide anything after his sights fall on you though. Even the embarrassing or tricky things. He has his ways to find out. So be prepared for that if you ever want to get his attention.

Outside of that he will only make sure to document your abilities like any other pasta for the reason that it might change or affect any healing or medical thing. So he keeps up on everyone's powers and abilities just the same.

Tim/Maskey

I hope that means you will be one less person for him to worry about dying. If not expect him to hover over you. He will make sure you won't die. Either from others or from yourself. He will keep up his watchful eye until you show him you're capable of taking care of yourself. If you are never able to satisfy his standards for survivability in the Manor he will more or less adopt you. In the most scoffed tired old man way possible.

Even if you are not a child he will somehow make you feel like you are one again. And always one that is in trouble with thier parent somehow.

Did you burn your food? Well he's there to make you something edible to eat, but he gonna huff and puff about it without ever actually being upset.

Did you prank Laughing Jack, Jeff, or BEN? He will be there staring at you with the largest more defeated sigh he can muster as he brings you to his room to hide in while your victim calms down.

Did you see something you didn't want to while looking through mirror after mirror and now you're scarred? He's there and he will give you an awkward hug if that helps. Or he will do better just lending an ear and possibly a helping hand if necessary.

All in all if you're able to take care of yourself he'll treat you like any other creep, if not he will become the world's most tired and overworked dad. Just don't call him "dad" or "father" because he will get extremely defensive and might actually leave you out in the cold without help in your (minor) times of need for the immediate future. At least until he calms down and goes back to being the helpful tired dad he is.

Brian/Hoodie

Can you reflect a punch? Can you reflect a bullet? Can you reflect someone else's magic/not normal abilities? Can you reflect illusions? Or would your ability cut through the lie? He wants to know.

You think you know every capability you have? Think again. Brian is Curious✨ and on a mission to see just the extent of what you can and can't do.

Hoodie only exasperates this because he wants you to be useful on the field. And trust me, if he does end up finding you useful for something, he Will make sure that you will help him. Whether that's just asking or going as far as to blackmail you. It's entirely dependent on both you and the situation involved.

At least you have the mercy that Brian doesn't like to be cruel or excessively mean, so he will try to reign back Hoodie some. Not fully, but enough that Hoodie doesn't actually resort to more physical measures to get you to do what he wants.

You are screwed either way though. One wants to know just how far you can be pushed because he thinks it's fascinating, and the other wants the same thing, but only because he wants to use you in the best way he can. Good luck.

Toby

That... IS SO AWESOME

Can you teach him at all or is that only something you can do? Either way he tries to be involved with your abilities as much as he can.

If you don't know if you can bring other people into you dimension yet or not, he will happily be the first volunteer to test that. Thankfully Maskey told him to at least find someone else that wouldn't be bad to die in case it's not habitable to anyone else but you.

Though if the test goes well and you can actually bring him into your dimension without hurting or killing him, he will constantly be begging you to bring him with you to any mission you may have.

Thank fuck mirrors don't project sounds. Because even though you are supposed to be a spy, Toby just can not shut up long enough to actually let you be stealthy. But since you are in a mirror you and him are free to talk and make as much noise as you damn well please.

Though if your mission is to be outside of the mirror, either to pick something up or to kill someone real quick without anyone else knowing, he will pout. He wants to talk and have fun even while on missions, but he can't do that if you aren't in the mirror with him. And he can't leave the mirror without your help. So he's always in a catch 22 where he needs you to free him, but also that he doesn't want to not leave without you.

Please be nice and indulge him some. As best as you can. Just be warned, the more you indulge him, the more he will ask and beg for your attention.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 14: Back to Basics (De-Aged)

AO3

Prev

The constant attention after her temporary death was a little stifling. Adrien was good about not overwhelming her. He’d seen her take bad hits before and he knew (from personal experience) that the cure would bring the two of them back to normal. No, despite being there in person as she died, Adrien was not drowning her in attention. She was thankful.

Her family, despite her constant reassurances however, did not get the memo. That she was okay. That she would be okay. Now and in future attacks. No, instead they constantly blew up her phone. ESPECIALLY during akuma attacks. Which was one of the only times she didn’t even have her phone on her. But whatever. One good thing did come from her temporary death though. She was talking to her dad. Like, actually talking. The bonding kind of talking. He wouldn’t talk to her about hero stuff (though she imagined he also wanted to forget about her “death” seeing as it was the third time he’d seen the dead body of one of his children). No, instead they got to know each other. She asked about Bridgette, which led to her finding out about his fiance- Selina Kyle. Marinette was really looking forward to meeting her, hopefully next time she took a portal to Gotham.

They also talked about Marinette’s designs- Uncle Jagged, MDC, how the company started, where she wanted to go with the company. Most of their conversations stayed at the surface level of getting to know you, but they were definitely getting closer. Though, she thought that if he’d just talked to her about hero work already (or took her on another patrol), their bonding would happen more naturally. Less like twenty questions. Her brothers, though…

Her brothers were constantly asking questions about how she was, how she felt, if she was safe, if she was sure they couldn’t convince her to leave Paris. It was a lot. But still nice. Nice to know that they cared so much, even if her death was only temporary (as she’d tried to remind them a million times).

The whole “dying painfully and then being resurrected after the battle” thing also led to her and Adrien making a lot of plans. Different ideas and things to do in case of certain akumas, types of attacks, deaths, just a LOT of contingency plans. She’d filled Alfred in on some of the plans, since several involved that half of her family or running to Gotham. But she didn’t tell her brothers. Or her dad. No need to worry or stress them out more than they already were. So she moved on. For several weeks. An entire month passed without Hawkmoth using a nightmare inducing akuma. It was nice. --- Adrien Agreste was not having a good day. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault though. Well, okay that’s a lie. It was definitely his fault. He’d thought after his crazy declaration in Gotham, asking Mari out would be easy. Simple. It was not. All the times he’d said she was “just a friend” were definitely coming back to haunt him. Every single time he tried to ask her out, something happened. An akuma attack. Marinette fell. Emergency photoshoot. Mari dropped all of her stuff and was almost late to class. Lila got someone to confront Marinette about something. He suddenly had an extra fencing lesson with Kagami.

But no more. No. Even though today hasn’t exactly gone as planned (overslept, late for photoshoot which made him extra late for school, got permission to eat at school but forgot to bring his food and then Mari left lunch instead of staying because her brother called so he didn’t even get to see her, forgot his science homework- yeah, bad day) it would be better. Because now he’s walking over to Mari’s and he’s going to ask her out if it’s the last- The shrill blaring of the akuma alarm breaks him out of his thoughts. Really? Now? Groaning, he darts into an alley.

“I blame you.” He deadpans to Plagg, glaring at the kwami’s maniacal laughter.

“Sure kid, sure. You know Pigtails is crazy ��bout you. Doesn’t mean anything that you can’t ask her out.” He says once his laughter dies down.

“I hope you’re right.” Adrien mumbles. “Plagg, claws out!” He smirks as he’s transformed, feeling a lightness he hasn’t felt all day. He immediately uses his staff to launch himself onto the roof, taking in his surroundings. No crazy weather. No giant stone monster or baby. Nothing flying around. Nothing looks out of the ordinary. Frowning, he retracts his staff to call Ladybug. It rings, but she doesn’t answer.

“Hey Bugaboo. Where should we meet? I don’t see anything unusual. Call me back.” He hands up and decides his best bet is to patrol around, keep an eye out for anything unusual. Just as he starts to think that maybe it was a false alarm, a red blob flies at him. He blinks.

“Chat! Follow me!” Tikki directs, whirling around and zooming away. Adrien’s heart sinks. Please let her be okay. I can’t watch her die again. Please. The words go on a cycle in his head as he runs behind Tikki, too worried to ask. He frowns when she dips down into an alley where someone- not Mari- is waiting.

“What’s going on?” He asks, completely confused.

“The akuma was able to get to Marinette before she could transform.” Tikki explains and Adrien frowns.

“Marinette? Are you- that’s Marinette?” He asks in bewilderment. The girl standing in front of him couldn’t be older than three.

“Unfortunately. The akuma can de-age people.” Tikki says with a sigh.

“Oh gosh, okay. Hi, I’m Chat Noir!” Adrien says, squatting down so that he’s eye level. He extends a hand, smiling at the girl.

“Kitty!” She giggles, throwing her arms around him.

“Oh, uh, hi.” He says, putting his arms around her and picking her up. He turns to Tikki.

“So is this one of those “take her to Mr. Wayne until the fight is over because she can’t be Ladybug right now” situations? Or a “hide her until this is all over” situation? We had  a lot of plans. De-aging was not one of them.” Adrien asks.

“Take her to Mr. Wayne. This akuma is sneaky and we can’t risk Marinette revealing her identity.” Tikki says.

“What?” Adrien asks. How could a baby Mari reveal her identity?

“Adri, wanna cookie please.” Mari says with a pout. His jaw drops and she giggles, patting his face. “Silly kitty!”

“She still knows?” He asks, his voice jumping an octave as he panics. How much did she know? Did she still know everything about the other kwami and the other heroes and- oh god, her dad is Batman. Oh this could be bad. Very bad.

“Okay, nevermind that, where are the glasses? I’ve got to get her out of here before someone hears her tell everyone’s secrets.” Adrien says, suddenly understanding the entire situation.

“Here go!” Mari says, pulling glasses out of her purse. Adrien takes them with a forced smile and merges Plagg and Kaalki. Though the akuma didn’t appear to be deadly, it was going to be a long battle for just one person. Especially since this akuma was actually good at hiding. He makes the portal and steps through, scoffing at the immediate defensive stances from her brothers.

“I’ve been here before.” He reminds them, letting his transformation fall.

“Who’s the kid?” Jason asks, going back to his breakfast when he deems Adrien not a threat. Adrien grimaces.

“So, yeah about that...um, Plagg will explain.” He says, slipping the ring onto Mari’s finger and taking the earrings. Time to get out of this mess. --- Bruce blinks as Adrien leaves as quickly as he came, no explanation. Only a ring of light. He glances at the little girl and frowns. Based on pictures he’d seen, he’d guess the girl was Marinette. But his daughter was a teenager. Which meant this little girl couldn’t be Marinette. But then who-

“Daddy!” She squeals, finally looking at him with her bright eyes. She runs up to him and raises her arms. He blinks, unsure of what she wants. She huffs. “Up.” She demands. He picks her up, eyebrows furrowed as she squeezes him tightly.

“Marinette?” He asks, still confused. A loud cackling draws his attention to the tiny floating black cat at the other end of the table. Of course.

“Pigtails is gonna freak about this later.” He says with a snort.

“And you are?” Bruce asks, wary of the creature. It was definitely not hostile, Adrien did leave it here. But he was still uncertain of its intentions.

“Plagg. The black ca kwami. Akuma back in Paris hit her and you all are her safe house. If she’s unable to fight as Ladybug, someone is supposed to bring her here. The kid or her, if she can still use a Miraculous.” Plagg explains, glancing around. “Say, you got any cheese?” He adds, and just like that, the kwami is off-supposedly to find cheese in the kitchen.

“So- how does she know you if she’s this little? She’s gotta be like, three.” Dick asks with a frown. “You just met.”

“Cause I’m Batman!” Marinette says, mimicking his voice. Jason snorts.

“Sure Pixie, and I’m Ladybug.” He says, reaching over and ruffling her hair.

“No, I am!” She pouts, crossing her arms. “You can’t be, you’re Red Hood.” She adds. Tim- who had been silently sipping coffee- spits over the entire table.

“Good job Drake. Now breakfast is ruined for everyone.” Damian sneers.

“She knows! But she’s tiny! She shouldn’t-” Tim rants.

“It’s magic, Drake.” Damian says, cutting him off. “I am unsure of what you expect. Now, since breakfast is ruined, I will be taking Titus on a walk.” He adds, standing up and starting to leave. Bruce is barely able to stop Marinette from falling as she leaps from his lap and rushes to Damian.

“Can I come?” She asks with a wide smile. Damian hesitates, glancing at him. Bruce shrugs. “Can I come, please?” Marinette adds, sticking out her lip in a pout.

“Tt. I suppose you can come with.” He says with pursed lips. Marinette squeals, grabbing Damian’s hand and tugging him along. The sound of a camera shutter makes Bruce whirl around to see- of course. Dick had his phone out and was taking picture after picture, a wide smile on his face as the two walked away, Marinette babbling on about how cool superheroes are as they walk.

“Who would’ve thought we’d be able to get pictures of baby Mari with us!” He says cheerfully, looking down at his phone. Bruce stills. He could have pictures with one of his kids, as a baby. He glances over at Tim, trying to figure out a way to ask that wouldn’t be too weird. Was the request too weird?

“Don’t worry, B. Already on it.” Tim says, shaking his phone. “Got several pictures of your little hug situation.” He adds. Bruce nods. Still…

“Everyone in the parlor in five minutes. Make sure Alfred comes too. I’ll go get Damian and Marinette.” Bruce says, standing from the table.

“For what?” Jason asks, visually bristling at the orders. Though their relationship was getting better, it was still rocky. And it likely would be for years.

“A family picture.” Bruce says simply. They’d have to take another when Marinette is herself, but he wasn’t about to miss this opportunity. --- Damian Wayne was many things. A former member of the League of Assassins. The current, (and in his unbiased opinion, best) Robin, an animal lover, a brother and a son. He also enjoyed drawing, occasionally painting too. What he was not, was a babysitter. He did not enjoy small children. They often cried for no reason, talked too much and smelled odd. His sister, luckily, did not smell odd. Nor had she cried. She was, however, babbling incoherently. And smiling. Nonstop. It was odd, but not awful. Looking down at the small girl, he was suddenly struck with the awful memory of her death. Of the sword that- no. She was fine. She may be a toddler now, but she was still fine.

“And then, Chat was a bad guy.” She says as he tunes back into her words. He frowns. That’s odd.

“What do you mean?” He asks, sure he misheard her.

“Chat! His suit turned bad and the moon went boom!” She exclaims, gesturing with her hands to mimic an explosion. Why was there no footage of this?

“That sounds like a very bad dream.” He leads, certain that it was just one of her fears. He knew Marinette struggled with anxiety and doubted herself as a hero. Surely that’s all she was referring to. She shakes her head.

“Nu-uh. Not a dream.” She denies, frowning. He starts to ask for clarification, to try and help, when she squeals and runs forward, wrapping her tiny arms around Titus. Damian sighs. It was useless to attempt to have an actual discussion with her right now anyway. Perhaps later they could revisit the topic.

“Careful, Titus.” Damian says, slightly concerned for how the large dog would react to Marinette. He had never really been around small children before, and while he was nice, some dogs just disliked children. Not that Damian blamed them. Instead of knocking her down or growling at her though, Titus nuzzles into her. Gently pushing her along as they walk around the gardens. Damian feels his lip quirk up in a smile. Pulling his phone out, he takes a quick picture, certain Marinette would like to see it later. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Father walking towards them swiftly.

“Father.” He acknowledges.

“Damian. We’re going to take some pictures together before she turns back.” Father says, glancing at Marinette who was giggling against Titus. She turns and notices the two talking, her smile growing even wider.

“Daddy!” She cheers, running forward and jumping into Father’s arms. Damian quirks an eyebrow at the uncharacteristically large smile on his father’s face. It was odd, but he also knew that his father regretted losing so much time with both him and Marinette. The others it was to be expected, but to not even have that time with his own blood children….

“Did you have fun with Damian, sweetheart?” He asks, and Damian blinks at the surprisingly soft tone. Very odd. He suddenly couldn’t wait for Marinette to turn back. He did not care for the sudden changes in his father.

“Yup! Dami showed me the flowers and the trees and Titus is so silly!” She rambles, nearly whacking Father in the face as she gestures wildly. Damian barely holds back a snort as he watches them.

“I’m so glad you had fun. Can we go inside now, there’s some things we want to do before you go back to Paris.” He explains. Marinette frowns, a pout replacing her large smile.

“I don’t wanna.” She whines, and Damian is shocked to see tears. Actual tears.

“Why don’t you want to go home?” Father asks, and the look on his face makes it obvious. He’s thrown.

“Tired.” She says, laying her head on Father’s shoulder. “Akumas are bad.” She adds.

“We’re going to help Marinette. You won’t be alone anymore. You and Chat Noir will both have help. We’ll figure this out.” Father assures her, holding her.

“Perhaps we could continue this conversation later, Father. You wanted to take pictures and there is no guarantee how long she will be...young.” Damian points out, making a mental note to also bring up the ‘Chat was bad’ scenario later.

“Er, yes. Let’s go. Come on honey, it’s okay. You’re still here.” Father says, turning and walking towards the house, quietly reassuring Marinette until she starts smiling again. While seeing his older sister younger than him was entertaining, Damian much preferred older Marinette. She had a better handle on her emotions. And though he would never admit it to her face, was also much more bearable in conversation. --- Jason was not fond of family pictures. Hell, he wasn’t fond of most things that involved family bonding. He’d been around more since they discovered Marinette, but that was mostly to make sure that Bruce didn’t fuck it up too badly. The kid was the most emotionally available one he had. She could do more than brood. And Jason was not about to let Bruce mess that up by being an asshole. So, sure, he’d been around more. But that didn’t mean he had to be in a family picture.

“I don’t wanna.” He argues, glaring at Dick who was trying to get him to come stand next to him. Dick, Alfred and Replacement were all coming up with poses will B got Demon Spawn and Pixie to come back inside. Jason wanted no part of any of it.

“Master Jason, this is a unique opportunity.” Alfred chastises. Jason rolls his eyes.

“I’ll join when he finds another kid.” He mumbles, trying not to sound too bitter. He wasn’t mad at Marinette, not at all. But being Bruce Wayne’s kid was a fucking recipe for disaster. Three of them had died (and come back). All of them were a vigilante or hero of some sort. None of them had a normal life. So as nice as it could be, being a kid of the Bruce Wayne, it was also a bit of a curse.

“Jay!” Marinette squeals, practically throwing herself from Bruce’s arms as they walk into the room. Jason lunges forward, catching her.

“Shit, Pix, you just about fell.” He swears, eyes wide as she giggles uncontrollably.

“Language.” Dick calls. Jason narrows his eyes, about to argue, when Marinette shifts in his arms. Oh yeah. She’s kind of tiny right now. Probably shouldn’t say anything too bad.

“Daddy says we’re gonna take pictures!” She says, grinning widely. Jason winces. Damnit Bruce.

“Really? Well, I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun.” He says, preparing to put her down so that he can dip out.

“We have to get a picture of just the kids too! Daddy says we’ll take more another day, but we gotta hurry.” She rambles, struggling in his arms to be let down. He sets her down, taken aback by how strong she is as she grabs his hand and tugs him behind the couch. Standing right next to Dick. Of fucking course.

“Pix, I don’t-” He tries to say.

“Nope. Picture time!” She cheers, running back to Bruce. Jason shakes his head. Of fucking course the Pixie was gonna get him to do some stupid shit he didn’t want to do. Of course. --- Alfred glances at the new pictures on the wall as he walks down to the kitchen. It had been a few days since Miss Marinette had left. A few days since he was able to see a genuine smile on Master Bruce’s face. The family had managed to get dozens of pictures and videos on that day, including a picture with himself, Master Bruce and the children. Glancing at the picture of just the children, all laughing and cuddled up on the couch, Alfred smiles. It was nice to have these pictures, pictures with genuine joy on his family’s face. Even if it happened because of a villain attack.

Next

Master list

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @imarivers8 @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks

[purplefair]

j.t. | all i wanted

pairing: jason todd x unrequited!reader & platonic!dick grayson x platonic!reader

a/n: dear fucking god- this hurt to write- and this is an au where all the robins are living at the manor. reader is close friends with the batboys. also “she” is the new batgirl- also, there isn’t a specific iteration of the characters that is mentioned, i left that up to your imagination. :) and i didn’t know how tf to begin this-

request: yes by @artistichoodiegirl : “i wrote a poem that reminds me of jason. can you write an angst fic based off of it?”

warnings: ANGST OMFG THE ANGST- also, i don’t know if i like the way this came out, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless. :)

you wanted to deny your feelings for him, but being as that felt physically impossible, you felt like a lost cause. crying your eyes out almost every night all because of a stupid guy. your brain tells you that you’re an adult, that you shouldn’t be so messed up over a guy, that you’re pathetic for feeling this way.

this night wasn’t any different, laying on your bed, wallowing in your own self pity.

dick walked down the hallway to your bedroom to tell you that dinner was ready, but when he heard your sniffling through the door before he was about to knock, he became concerned for his best friend. dick knocked, not giving you a chance to respond before turning the handle and opening your door to find you and your room a mess.

tissues everywhere, empty water-bottles, and and dishes on your bed-side table. he sighed before asking the same question he had been asking you for days, “are you okay?”

you turned to him, and what he saw shocked him. your hair messy and all over the place, eyes and nose red, it didn’t look like you were just sad, you looked ill.

“yeah, i’m just peachy.” you replied sarcastically, trying to deter him from being serious with you. “y/n i’m being serious. you’ve been cooped up in here for what seems like days, the boys are worried about you.” you chuckled, still trying to make it seem like you were okay.

dick walked a little bit further into your room before closing the door, knowing you didn’t like your door open. he moves to your bed, sitting across from you, “is he worried?” you asked, already thinking that this certain “he” couldn’t give less of shit about you.

“yes, jason is. he’s been wondering if you’re okay, why you’ve been avoiding him, and why you won’t even so much as look at him anymore.” you keep your eyes looking away from dick, knowing looking at him would make you sob again. “you know i can’t tell him why.”

“why not? you aren’t going to ruin his happiness with her by just talking to him about how you feel. i bet you’d even find at least some closure by talking to him!” you know he’s right, he usually is about these things. you, again, didn’t respond. opting to keep your eyes away from dicks gaze.

“if you’re not going to talk to him, fine. but at least come out and get dinner, talk to the rest of the family for a little bit, please?”

“i don’t know dick-“ “please, for me?” you shouldn’t have looked at him, his gorgeous blue eyes are impossible to say no to. “…fine. but let me get ready, i look like absolute shit right now.”

“yeah, you do.” that earned him a pillow to the face.

you closed your bedroom door before heading down the hall and to the kitchen. were you nervous, yeah. did you really want to speak to jason, no. but, you were doing this for your best friend and no one else.

and of course, the sight that you didn’t want to see the most was right in front of you, jason sitting on the couch with her in his lap, almost on top of him.

“hey, look who finally came out of hiding.” you mentally cursed tim for making it obvious. heads turned, but jason’s and hers stayed where they were, as though the couldn’t care less. you looked away from them and moved over to where damian, tim, and dick had been sitting after already getting some food.

you were 90% sure that tim knew about your feelings for jason, you didn’t know if damian knew or cared, and of course, dick being the emotional support friend, of course he knew.

you four sat in comfortable silence, occasionally hearing jason and her giggle, making you want to shiver from how uncomfortable it was. tim seemed to notice this and gave you a look of sympathy, damian lyes back on the couch and muttered to himself, “idiot…” looking at jason.

you chuckled softly, you didn’t know what it was, but damian had a way of making you feel better, even if it was unintentional. of course he knew, your moping had been kind of obvious.

making comfortable small talk with the other boys while eating, jason occasionally looked at you. ‘i should talk to her.’ he thought, before being distracted by the woman in front of him.

laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling trying not be/ feel pathetic for being upset that he didn’t even speak to you during dinner. you grabbed the pillow on the other side of your bed and pushed it over your face, and screamed.

even though jason has never slept in your bed with you, it felt…cold and lonely. he was something you craved, but knew you could never have, like god just wanted to continue to fuck you over.

there’s a knock on the door and you’re sitting up very quickly, “hey, can we talk?” it was jason.

hoping you looked okay, you gave a little huff and said to yourself, “don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…”

“come in!” jason heard through the door, turning the handle and making his way into your room. your eyes widened and tried to act normal, like his presence didn’t make your stomach do flips. he closes the door behind you and sits next to you on the bed, you of course still not looking at him.

“why have you been avoiding me? you haven’t talked to me in days, and you can barely look at me. what’s going on?”

you wanted to tell him, you really did. but you couldn’t ruin what they had, knowing it’d be awkward for you, jason, her, and the rest of the boys.

“nothing is the matter jason, i just…haven’t been in the best state of mind recently, that’s all.” you mustered enough courage to turn and look at him, automatically regretting it to find him already looking at you. his eyes full of concern, but void of love. sure, maybe an almost sibling love, but not romantic. before all of this you had tried to make it painfully obvious of how you thought of him. but after she showed up, there was nothing really you could do.

“y/n, i’m going to take your word for it, and not pry. but i still want to talk to you.” “about?”

he looked at you once again, “does it matter?”

no, it didn’t, all that mattered was that he was talking you, something you had tried to avoid but internally yearned for.

asking the most painful question, just to make it seem like you really were okay, “how’re things going between you two?” he laughed, his beautiful smile never failing to mesmerize you.

“they’re going pretty good actually, i think i want to marry her.”

why were you surprised? they had been going for awhile now and of course he’d want to marry her. she could give him everything he wanted.

you tried not to whip your head around at him, you also tried not to burst out in sobs upon hearing those words. he wanted to marry her? “oh wow, that’s…a big commitment.” you laughed, trying to seem normal.

he in turn laughed a little too, “yeah, i know, but she just makes me so happy. i finally have the chance to have the family i’ve always wanted,”

“have two kids, preferably daughters. i am definitely going to name one amber.” of course he would, he’d always loved that name.

the pain in your chest is indescribable, you had hoped that he’d be having that family with you. but , it seems as though you may have waited too long. “that sounds amazing…i’m so happy for you.”

the words sounded disingenuous, but at this point you didn’t care. it hurt too much to see the person you love the absolute most, talk about starting a family with someone other than you.

faking a yawn you stood up, “i’m pretty tired, so i’m gonna have to kick you out now.” jason gazed up at you, faking being offended. “wow, we just started talking again and you’re kicking me out? rude.”

you laughed as he stood up and walked to your door, you following not far behind. when he stood just outside your door and in the hallway, there was an awkward silence. “goodnight, jason-“

“before i leave, can i get a hug? i’ve missed you y’know.” jason held his hand between the door and the doorway.

you hated how much you loved those words, he said he missed you. “yeah, you can have a hug.”

jason pushes the door open and quickly wraps his arms around your waist, and you wrap your arms around his neck. “please never avoid me like that again.”

he muttered in your ear, sounding genuinely hurt by what you had done. “i won’t.”

it felt like minutes before he pulled away, looking down at you and smiling. “you should get some sleep, i can see your eye bags underneath your concealer.”

“shut up, asshole.” you laughed, knowing he was just teasing you. jason stepped out of your room and into the hallway, “goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight, jason.” you both smiled at one another before he walked down the hall to his bedroom. you closed your door and suddenly everything hit you like a ton of bricks.

he was going to marry her, he wanted her children, and he’s going to name one amber.

he’s going to have the “big, happy family life”, something you knew you probably would be apart of. possibly babysitting his children.

you hated thinking about it, but, as long as he was happy. you’d do anything for him, even while suffering in silence.

now you were left to yourself, again, laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down the sides of your face and soaking your hair.

“fuck, i’m pathetic.”

you cried yourself to sleep, for the 7th time that week. wishing you would have been brave enough to just tell him how you feel, but instead you’re all alone.

and who else is there to blame, but yourself?

also, here’s the poem that the requester wrote! <3

I tried to win your love but

I can't compete

when she already won

god she's so much better

you should give her that diamond ring

I was begging for

I bet she's dying for you to get down on one knee

You probably already sing her to sleep

brush her hair

like you used to do for me

now i'm alone

got no one to hold

god my bed is so cold

But I still hope she's happy

make her smile when she's lonely

and give her a home

now that I'm alone..

imagine all of the little babies

you'll have driving her crazy

You'll probably have 2 daughters

I bet you'll name one Amber

you always really liked that name

you'll be such a wonderful father

I know you had those doubts

but I know she'll even them out,

And even though we aren't together

you always have my shoulder

for when your doubts

start to make the world dark

I just hope I'll still be around

to meet all of your little ones

but for now

I'll sit here and watch you…

be happy

I bet she's feels lucky

I'm glad you have one another

to hold each other

and keep the bed warm...

I hope you're happy

and never ever feel lonely

I'm glad you found a home

now that I'm alone...

[anjuschiffer]

Unrequited

For Timari January - Day 16: “Why would I ever date someone like you?”

--

Tags: @timari-month-event @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

--

AO3

“He’s just perfect!” Marinette ended her rant with a dreamily sigh, squealing when she picked up a stuffed animal in the shape of a black cat.

She petted the thing like it was an actual cat, even going as far as tickling it under its chin. Tim frowned as continued to fawn over the mangy thing, forcing himself to type away at his recent case.

“I know I said I wanted us to have a hamster, but now that I think about it, I don’t think Adrien would mind having a cat. Oh! We can name it Noir! Maybe-” Tim tuned Marinette out again, attempting to cool himself down. “-do you think Tim?” he snapped from his turmoil. He looked up from his screen, noticing that Marinette had her hair down before using one hand to put it into a ponytail.

“Is this for that group hangout later today?” Tim asked her, Marinette picking up on his annoyance. 

“Tim. Are you alright?” She asked, letting her hair drop and deciding to sit by his feet. “Is Bruce-”

“I’m fine.” Tim gritted out, huffing before turning his attention back to the screen in front of him. “Ponytail.”

“Tim, we’ve known each other since we were kids, so tell me. What’s wrong?” She asked as she placed her hand on his knee. 

He honestly didn’t know why he did it. Really, he didn’t. 

Was it because he was sick and tired of hearing Marinette talking about him? About the supposed love of her life? 

Was it because that’s all she was ever talking about the minute he stepped into her room, just like every other time for the past two years? How she would tell him all of her fantasies she had with golden boy Agreste?

So why? Why did he ever do it, even though he knew how it was going to end.

“Does it have to be Adrien?” Marinette tilted her head. “Does it have to be someone like Adrien, a rich model, to make you happy?”

“Tim, what are you getting-”

“What about,” he closed his laptop, “someone like me?” He asked, looking directly at her.”

“Why would I ever date someone like you?” Marinette asked him, a tiny laugh following. 

It hurt. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” Tim pried, something he knew he would regret saying. 

“Why? Let’s see,” Marinette began, getting up to lean against the ladder that led to her bed. “First off, you’re my best friend.” Marinette counted. “I rather not make things awkward between us. 

Then there’s the fact that you're a vigilante. I don’t want to become a possible hostage if i ever go to Gotham to visit you. I’m there to spend time being with you, not spending time being bait.

Yes, I may be Ladybug and know how to defend myself, but that doesn’t mean I will react the same if I ever get caught in a Gotham attack. There’s no miraculous magic to guarantee my safety, so who knows if i will be lucky enough to escape an attack unscathed.” 

Tim watched as she fiddled with a loose hair strand. “And even if you weren’t a vigilante, I honestly don’t think our relationship would even work.” Marinette confessed. “It would've been one thing if we lived a single border away from each other but a whole ocean? It would never work.” 

Tim watched as Marinette counted another finger off. “Then there’s the fact that you’re a bit too dedicated to your job.”

“My job?” Tim asked, feeling himself reaching his limit. 

“A workaholic at  Wayne Enterprises during the day and a case obsessed vigilante at night. When will we ever have the time to just relax, to be with each other? The answer is that we won’t, so I don’t-“

“Case obsessed?” Tim couldn’t believe it. “Marinette, I need to be case obsessed -as you call it- to help keep Gotham safe.”

“But to the point of depleting your health? I don’t think it’s worth-“

“Gotham isn’t Paris. We don’t have magic to restore everything after a massive fight, to repair any collateral damage done to the city and people of Gotham.” Tim defended himself. “Studying cases helps to create-“

“But you take it overboard, Tim.” Seriously, why is he getting so defensive? “I mean just look at you now! Bruce sent you here so that you could take a break and get-“

“Evil never rests Marinette.” Tim looked at her dead in her eyes. “I thought you would know that by now.”

“I do.” Marinette growled, crossing her arms.

“Do you? Do you really?” Marinette let out a heavy sigh. 

“Tim, can we just drop this?”

“Drop this? You’re the one who brought it up and now that I’m trying to defend-“

“Defend something that’s harming you. You're harming yourself without even knowing!” Marinette felt like ripping her hair out.

“At least I’m obsessed over trying to keep Gotham safe, unhealthy but necessary.” Tim said. “Unlike you who's obsessed with trying to get the attention of someone who wouldn’t even bat an eye in your direction.” 

Marinette gasped, knowing exactly who he was referring to and insulting. 

“I’m not obsessed with Adrien.” Tim let out a dry laugh, Marinette watching him shake his head as he got up, slamming his laptop on the lounge chair. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m not.” 

“You don’t call this an obsession!” Tim motioned to the entire wall by her desk, covered inch to inch in photos of Adrien. 

Some weren’t even photos from shoots he took for his father’s company, but photos Marinette had printed out after taking them at school events. 

“It's inspiration.”

“Inspiration?” Tim ran his hand through his hair. “It could’ve passed for inspiration if you didn’t have his damn face in each damn photo on this wall! It would’ve been inspiration if his stupid smiling-“

“His smile is not stupid! It very pleasing to the eye, and warms-“

“Don’t you ever stop babbling about him?” 

“I don’t babble about him. I-“

“You only ever talk about five things: Lila, school, deadlines, Hawkmoth and this idiot!” Tim listed off, slamming his hand over a picture of Adrien winking towards the camera. Marinette shrieked. 

“How dare you! That photo is signed!” 

“Are you listening to yourself?”

“I can ask you the same-“ 

“I’m not obsessed with Adrien! Can’t you understand-“

“How blind are you to believe-“

“I’m not blind!” Marinette defended herself. 

“Then you’re in denial!” Tim opposed. “And don’t say you’re-“

“I’m not!” She yelled, wanting to stomp her feet. 

“Then explain this!” Tim pulled down the old projector board, exposing a giant schedule filled to the brim with different events, post it notes and doodles. But despite it filled with trivial info about her friends, everything else was about a single person. “Explain why the hell you have Adrien’s information to a t.”

“You act like you don’t do that same!”

“Villains, Marinette! I make charts and webs to help me track down villains! Not to know what what in the ever fucking love my crush is doing every second of the day!”

Marinette remained silent before Tim saw something slip into her mind. 

“I don’t just have Adrien’s schedule, but also Alix’s and my other friend’s-“

“Are you talking about these?” Tim asked, pulling out only six laughable notes about her friends. “These events?” He asked again, shaking the measly six things she had on her friends. “Marinette. This.” He gestured again to the immaculate replica of Adrien’s schedule in front of them. “This is called obsession... being a stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker and I’m not obsessed! I only have his schedule in case-“

“Not a stalker? Not obsessed? You know his schedule, by heart! You know where his room is located within his home, you knew the password to his phone -fuck you’ve taken his phone-, get jealous over other girls even being with him despite not being in a relationship with him, fantasize about a future with him-“

“Shut up!” Marinette screamed. “What the hell do you even know about me? About my feelings for Adrien? Tell me Tim!”

Tim remained quiet, watching as Marinette glared at him, tears pooled in her eyes. “You can’t, can you? You know why? Because you don’t know anything about me?” She let out a dry laugh. “Bet you don’t even know what it’s like to even be in-“

“I have. And I do know what it’s like to feel worried, concerned, fearful about the person you love. Because believe it or not, I have been in love before. But as you can see, that didn’t work out. And here I am, experiencing it all over again,” Tim watched as something flashed before her eyes. “But this time...this time, I feel like it was just a waste of time…”

Tim walked to his laptop and picked it up, opening the hatch to leave.

Marinette watched as he slowly descended until only his head peered over the entrance of her room. “If I knew opening up to a new love was going to be like this, I would’ve never given love a second chance.” 

With that, Tim left, leaving Marinette alone in her room. 

[thewaynemanner]

Wholesome BatFamily Fic Rec’s

Hey All, so here is my BatFam Rec List you all have been asking for! Lol jk no one has asked for this, but I made it anyways! So here are my All-Time Favorite BatFamily Fic Recs, for the most part these Recs are all rated either “G” for General Audiences or “T” for Teen and Up Audiences. So basically, all these fics focus on family dynamics and relationships rather than slash or anything like that. These are all truly amazing fics so give your Kudos and love to the authors! And remember to always read the tags before you read the fic!

And So This is Christmas by DragOnstOrm

Summary: It's not that Alfred isn't happy with his job. It's just that sometimes he really wishes that he had known what he was getting into when he signed up for it.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,901

My Comments: Folks, stories don’t get much more wholesome than this fic. After reading this fic I was left warm and happy. Also, it stars my boy, Alfie, which is usually extremely rare for fics. Loved that we got to see Alfred’s perspective in this! Great fic!

Bedside Manner by @fishfingersandjellybabies

Summary: Sometimes Bruce forgot just how great his kid was.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 2,985

My Comments: Anything @fishfingersandjellybabies writes is truly fantastic, but I particularly loved this one since it delved into the sweeter side of Bruce and Damian’s relationship that we don’t get to see often (especially in cannon). I love me a good hurt/comfort fic 😉

 Bet on it by @lysical

Summary: Even Damian could admit that his older siblings occasionally had their uses.

"I need your assistance," Damian said, voice low and tense.

"No," Jason replied, and hung up.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2,495

My Comments: Lysical writes some of the best BatBrother Fics out there, folks. So if you want some wholesome and hilarious Bat sibling bonding, then look no further! Bet on it, is one of my personal favorites of Lysical’s. Great writing and great characterization!

Blood in the Water by MishaBerry

Summary: We all do stupid things when we are lonely, and in faraway lands, we hardly expect the consequences to follow us. Bruce certainly never thought twice about an American woman in Jaipur after one night with her. He hardly expected to see her ever again.

The universe, on the other hand, had different ideas, and the tides of time and chance brought Tim Drake to Bruce's life over and over again.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 181,939

My Comments: FANTASTIC AU! One of my favorite Tim Drake centric fics, but still has plenty of the rest of the BatFamily. I also love that we get to see Tim as his sweet six-year self. This story has it all, great characterizations, good plot, angst, fluff, and BatFamily bonding 😊

Cracked Foundation by @cdelphiki

Summary: The last thing Damian expected to happen when he ran away from home was to spend a day crammed into a small space with Jason Todd. His father's second son was a black sheep. An outcast. An angry, insanity driven criminal who enjoyed screwing with the batfamily in every way he could. At least, that's what Damian thought. Maybe he was wrong about Todd.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 20,902

My Comments: This is a brilliant fic that examines the relationship between Damian and Jason. I absolutely loved this fic and never wanted it to end. I truly wish there were more Jason and Damian Fics out there, I think it’s a character duo that isn’t explored nearly enough. If you love Damian and Jason brother bonding fics, you’ll love this one and if you’ve never read a bonding fic between these two brothers, you may just find a new love!

Five Times Jason Todd Saved His Brothers, and One Time They Saved Him by laceymcbain, reena_jenkins

Summary: “Did you know I was in here, or did you just blow up the place for fun?”

Damian didn't need to see Todd's face to know he was grinning under the helmet.

“It's not really a rescue unless something blows up. But if Bats asks, it was completely necessary."

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 6,923

My Comments: This fic is BatFamily feels to the extreme. Jason Todd deserves love and this fic gives it to him. LOVED IT <3 <3 <3

Fly By Night by @lysical

Summary: Damian is thirteen. Sometimes he even acts like it.

"This is an injustice," were the last words Damian had spoken to his father all day.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2,889

My Comments: Another great Fic by @Lysical! This is just a plain ol’ fun Fic, y’all. Great Bat Brother love in this one and it also features my sweet summer child- Jonathan Samuel Kent. Trust me you will love this Fic, it is hilarious and all around good stuff 😊

A Good Place by @lemonadegarden

Summary: Damian Wayne is kidnapped and sent back years through time. Together, he and Father – who's only been Batman for a mere six months –must figure out how to return him to his own time.

Over the course of the next week, Damian discovers that Mexican gangsters do not mess around, that social workers find Bruce annoying, that Bruce might be a little messed up, and that crystal chandeliers create the fondest memories.

Oh. And Alfred has hair.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 36,903

My Comments: LemonadeGarden is one of my All-Time favorite authors, so anything written by them is brilliant. But A Good Place will always be a favorite of  mine, it is by far my favorite Damian & Bruce centric Fic out there and is something I have read over and over again. I love getting to see a younger Bruce interact with Damian and in turn, Damian interact with him. It’s overall great and has a fantastic plot!

Let There Be a Bruise by @audreycritter

Summary: Damian is a child who should not have the scars he does; Bruce is a father who has plenty of his own scars, but still wishes he could take his son’s, too.

The silver lining is where they find each other— a broken son and a broken father, putting each other back together.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 3,656

My Comments: Audreycritter is the master of Damián & Bruce Hurt/Comfort fics. I honestly would recommend all of Audrey’s fics, so check them all out! But this one will always be a favorite 😊

 Life Happens by @cdelphiki

Summary: While walking home from an event at Wayne Enterprises, Tim and Damian are kidnapped and sent to an alternate dimension. In a world where superheroes are merely comic book characters and the idea of the multiverse is only a theory found within the pages of science fiction, how are Tim and Damian going to return home? How long will they be stranded on this strange Earth? And will the boys murder each other before they figure it out?

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 176,966

My Comments: Hoo-boy, folks. I don’t even know where to start with this Fic. I honestly get teary-eyed thinking about how beautiful it is and how much I loved this one. My favorite Tim Drake and Damian Wayne brotherly bonding Fic EVER. I would almost describe this Fic as a love letter to the characters Tim and Damian, in the sense that the author captures their characterizations beautifully and tells one of the best stories of growth and familial love I have ever read. It’s fluffy, angsty, humorous, and full of BatFamily feels. And don’t worry, there is plenty of Dick, Jason, and Bruce as well (If not a little later in the story). I would run to this Fic, if I were you.

 Life, if Well Lived by CaptainOzone

Summary: Jason wakes up from a time-travel mishap to find Thomas and Martha Wayne hovering over him.

Just another day in the life, right?

...Not quite.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 10,758

My Comments: A Fic that destroyed me in the BEST way possible. Tears, so many tears were shed during this fic. The best Hurt/Comfort fic I have ever read. Extremely unique in the sense that Martha and Thomas Wayne are two of the main characters and boy did I love it! I can not stress how AMAZING this Fic is. I never knew I needed this fic in my life until I read it. I wish I could re-read it for the first time all over again. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE IT!

My Brother’s Keeper by Forever_A_Thief

Summary: The boy had two options, two roads stretching out before him: stay with Mother, and become the greatest assassin ever known to man, or go to Father, and become a masked vigilante fighting for justice in a city drenched in darkness. Damian looked at these two roads, these two lives he could lead, and decided on a third path for himself instead. He chose his own road.

Jason never let himself think about the kid he had left behind at the desert compound all those years ago. When Talia never got in touch with him after his return to Gotham, Jason had assumed he had just been forgotten like he had been in Gotham. But then that kid, his little brother, showed up one night and Jason couldn’t just continue to push him to the back of his mind. Not anymore.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 43,907

My Comments: Did I mention I love Jason & Damian fics? Well I do and this one is beyond FANTASTIC. Overall great Bat-Bros fic that I would recommend over and over again.  This fic is Damian and Jason centric but it does involve the rest of the Bat Family too. I love seeing all the brother’s bonding in this fic and the overall family feels 😊

 Of Owls and Assassins by Cirth

Summary: "Dick," Bruce says, not entirely sure how to react, "who is that?"

Dick blinks at him from his place on the workout mat. There's a broken plate with mac and cheese strewn all over next to him, as well as what seems to be Bruce's old G.I. Joe action figure from the attic. It looks like a child's imagining of a murder scene. "My owlet," Dick states.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 853

My Comments: The adorableness of this Fic is off the charts. I love AU’s where Dick is a Talon, but this one will always hold a very special place in my heart since Dick is just so pure in it. Forever a favorite <3

Party Games by @lemonadegarden

Summary: I can't believe you got into a bar fight at two in the morning. And now you're all in prison. The night before your wedding. What the fuck kind of a family am I marrying into?” Selina said.

Bruce Wayne goes to a series of bachelor parties, each one worse than the last. Set in the same timeline as We, So Much Older, but can be read as a standalone fic as well.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 12,659

My Comments: Okay, so technically this is a Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne Fic and even though the plot premise revolves around their upcoming wedding, I wouldn’t really consider this a “slash” fic. There is definitely more BatFamily vibes with this fic. It’s hilarious, fun, and oh so wholesome! I love this fic beyond measure and even if you aren’t a fan of the BatCat ship, I highly suggest you give it a shot for the amazing BatFam moments.

Second Chance by @cdelphiki

Summary: When Talia al Ghul watched her toddling son start his training, his awful, grueling training, she had an epiphany:

The League of Assassins was no place for children.

(Or: Talia realizes training literal babies is abuse and gets him out of there.)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 6,461

My Comments: This is the Talia al Ghul we deserve! This is the Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne deserves! THIS IS THE TALIA AL GHUL, DAMIAN WAYBE DESERVES! Loved this fic, great Talia al Ghul characterization. It’s the Talia that could have ben before DC slaughtered her character.

 Running Headlong into My Arms by gleesquid

Summary: Bruce doesn’t like to credit one thing for saving his life, but if he did, it would be Haly’s Circus that Friday night in September, just as summer was beginning to die.

(He'll always be a sucker for kids with sad eyes, no parents, and more fight than the world knows what to do with.)

Or: in a universe where superheroes don't exist, Bruce Wayne finds his family.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 54,231

My Comments: I feel like this fic is a right of passage into the BatFamily fandom, so if by some chance you haven’t already read it, I highly suggest you move this straight to the top of your reading list. It’s a classic and has everything you could ever want in a BatFam Fic.

 we are not alone in the dark by @audreycritter

Summary: Damian has a flashback on a family camping trip.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2,218

My Comments: A BatFam camping trip, need I say more? One of my favorite hurt/comfort fics involving Damian. We get to see some super sweet moments between Bruce and Damian, and Damian and Jason. Loved it.

 Where You Go, I Follow by @fishfingersandjellybabies

Summary: In some world, Dick Grayson was never revived by Lex Luthor, and was probably better for it.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,427

My Comments: BROKE MY HEART, but in the best possible way. I cried both sad tears and happy tears for this fic. LOVED IT! I have read it at least six times (I’m going read it again after I post this rec). A fantastic Dick & Damian story. I also love the title; it captures the mood perfectly. I’m always a sucker for fics that are inspired by songs, this one was inspired by ‘I Will Follow You’ by Toulouse!

Video message incoming by helenabertinellis

Summary: The League are just wrapping up their meeting when a call comes through the Watchtower servers.

It's for Batman.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 1,228

My Comments: I consider this a classic BatFam fic, so I will be shocked if you haven’t read it, but on the off chance that you have not read it, GO READ IT NOW. It’s humorous and all so wholesome 😊

Yesterday’s Voices by @lemonadegarden

Summary: While trying to take down a drug cartel that deals with memory altering drugs, things go awry, and Batman wakes up with no recollection of the last five years.

As a result, his family must now race against time to find the antidote, while also having to deal with a Bruce who still thinks Jason is Robin. A Bruce who doesn't recognise most of them. A Bruce far less jaded and cynical than the one they're used to. A Bruce who still cares.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 49,000

My Comments: Surprise, surprise another amazing fic by LemonadeGarden. I will be shocked if you haven’t read this fic yet, but on the off chance that you haven’t, I am telling you now, to RUN to this fic. It will forever and always be my MOST FAVORITE BATFAMILY fic out there. I honestly wish this fic never had ended, it’s one that will always hold a special spot in my heart. THIS IS THE BRUCE WAYNE WE DESERVE.

For More Fic Recs Check-Out:

BatFamily Fic Recs part 2

BatFamily Fic Recs Part 3

BatFamily Fic Recs Part 4

BatFamily Fic Recs Part 5

[toosicktoocare]

ayy for the bingo prompts!! Possibly O5 for Jon? :)

Of course! 

O5: Trapped in a small space with a fever

Am I going with a trapped in the elevator route? Why yes. Yes, I am. 

When the old elevator jerks and rattles to a creaking stop, with the small, dim light flickering overhead, Jon stares, for an extended moment, at the doors as if willing them to tremble and slide open under a narrow, albeit tired, gaze. 

Unsurprising, the power of his sharp look does nothing for dated machinery, and he only drags his gaze away when a voice crackles from the small speaker underneath the floor buttons. 

“Hello. The elevator is stuck.” 

“So it seems,” Jon draws out slowly, annoyingly jabbing at his own call button. He wants to tack on more- that he’ll be late for work, that he’s incredibly busy, and, though he’s not quite desperate to mention, that he’s working around a splitting headache that spreads fire across his face. 

“We’re notifying maintenance, but I’m afraid it may be a while.”

Of course, Jon thinks, shoulders sagging. Easy would be the doors sliding open in just minutes, but he can’t recall a single moment in his life that was easy. His being is surrounded with difficulties of varying sizes, and this is yet another to pen into the books. 

“Anything we can do for you in the meantime, sir?” 

Jon slips his phone from his pocket, once again unsurprised to see a small, red X covering his signal bar. “Phone my work,” he starts, voice cracking slightly, throat stinging more than the night before. “The Magnus Institute. Let them know of my... situation.” 

He tunes out the quick chatter that follows, instead sinking to the ground and drawing his knees up to his chest. The elevator’s small, its size fitting for the older apartment building. It’s already too warm, if the heat rolling from his face is any indication. His skin’s practically prickling across the ecompassing heat, and he fumbles out of his cardigan until he’s left tugging on his shirt collar and wondering how to tell when he’s fully suffocating under the pressing heat. 

***

“Martin.”

Martin jumps, a small squeak clawing up his throat. He whips around mid-conversation with Tim to see Elias slowly dissecting him through gaze alone. 

“Y-yes, sir?” He stutters, swallowing thickly around the lump forming in his throat. His eyes find the floor, a nervous habit, an inability to hold eye contact when backed into a situation such as this. 

“It would appear our archivist is... trapped in an elevator in his apartment building. I need you to go and encourage the maintenance crew to work significantly faster as there’s much work to be done.” 

Tim chokes back a laugh, masking his amusement through a few fake coughs into his fist. He peers around Martin, arching a single brow. 

“Mind if I join him, boss? Do a whole good cop, bad cop routine?” 

A flicker of annoyance tugs at Elias’s lips, threatening to give way to a tight frown, and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Just make it quick, and do not come back here without my archivist.” 

***

Jon can’t recall when he started shivering, when the heat heightened and gathered across his face, leaving the rest of his body uncomfortably chilly, but he can’t seem to stop. He wrestles with his cardigan, pulling it back on through jerky movements, and he tugs it tightly around himself, making himself impossibly small and tight in an already small and tight space. 

His awareness is fading in and out. He know he hasn’t been in the elevator long. He also knows that he doesn’t feel well at all. His jaw hurts from the persistent chatter of his teeth, and his bones ache in a way that vastly differs from too many hours hunched over at his desk. He doesn’t trust his voice as it feels raw in a way that’s unlike the sensation of speaking into a tape recorder for hours. 

Where his awareness lacks is why. Sure he’s familiar with running himself ragged, as Tim and Sasha point out to him far too often, but this feels different. Yet, he can’t concentrate as to why it’s different because his head is a jackhammer that won’t ease. 

He drops his forehead atop his bent knees, hissing around the aggravating chill that won’t let up, and he drifts. 

***

“Want to bet on how many of these poor blokes he’s yelled at so far?” Tim smiles easily, eyeing the various maintenance crew members who are all working quietly and quickly at the elevator. 

“No, Tim, I don’t want to bet on something like that,” Martin groans, frowning, a look that’s plastered itself to his lips and hasn’t let up since leaving the Institute. “Let’s just... let’s ask someone what’s going on.” 

When Tim doesn’t reply, Martin turns, brows furrowed, to see that Tim’s wandered off to chat with a woman barking orders right in front of the elevator doors. Shaking his head with a low huff, he quickly walks over to them, catching the two mid-conversation.

“-about an hour now, I suppose. He’s been awfully quiet.” 

“Quiet,” Tim spits out, brows raising. “You mean he hasn’t been raising hell this entire time?” 

“No,” the woman’s tone drifts as she brings her gaze down to the iPad in her hands. She taps a few buttons until a grainy camera feed fills the screen, showing Jon curled up in a corner. 

“Yikes,” Tim mutters under his breath, motioning for Martin to take a look. “He looks rough.” 

“He’s been sleeping on and off. He appears quite uncomfortable, though given the circumstance...” 

“Can we speak to him?” Martin interrupts, and Tim pulls a sharp gaze to the unfamiliar color coating Martin’s tone, a dark, serious color he’s not used to hearing. 

“Martin?” 

“Something seems wrong,” Martin elborates. His gut’s twisted with a new presence of anxiety that he couldn’t ignore even if he willingly tried. Jon should be raising hell, a passive, dangerously softspoken hell, and yet... he’s morphed himself into a tight, seemingly unresponsive ball, and that, to Martin, is just all levels of wrong. 

“Sure,” the woman motions to the small, worn speaker under the floor buttons on the wall. “Go ahead and take the camera. He’s only been responding to us via shaking or nodding his head as of thirty minutes ago.” 

Martin shuffles to the speaker, thumb ghosting over the call button. He spares a glance over his shoulder, meeting Tim’s eyes, sharing a silent, brief conversation, and then he presses the button. 

***

“Jon?”

Jon’s dreaming, he decides, the familair voice a distant echo that’s just too far. 

“Jon? Can you hear me?”

Frowning, Jon rolls his head toward the voice. It sounds closer yet oddly unattainable. 

"Wake up, Jon.”

It’s the last thing Jon wants to do by any means, yet he cracks his eyes open into small slits, opening them wider when he hears a sigh followed by a different voice breathing out a “thank god” from the speaker. 

“Jon, it’s Martin and Tim. We’re just outside. How are you doing?”

Jon considers that he should move to press the button next to the speaker so he can tell Martin that he feels dreadful, but his body feels like lead, and he’s sure his legs won’t be able to support him if he tries. He opts, instead, to shake his head with a wince, and he coughs weakly, frowning at the new development. 

“Jon, what’s wrong? Can you stand?” 

There’s panic in Martin’s voice, his tone far too quick and a tad usteady. Jon shakes his head again and crosses his arms, fingers digging bruises into his skin. 

“Are you hurt?”

Martin’s shouting now, alarmed, and Jon winces at the loud crackle that mixes in with his voice. He shakes his head again and points to his forehead, hoping the unspecific gestures will speak what he physically cannot. 

“What- Tim, what’re you doing?” 

“Boss, does your head hurt?” 

Sighing deeply, Jon nods. 

“How about the rest of you? Feeling too hot and too cold?”

Frowning, Jon drags a slow gaze around the elevator until he spots the small camera in the corner. He stares at it, brows furrowed, and he nods slowly, noting the sharp hiss and muffled arguing from the speaker. 

“Tim, what? How do you-”

“He’s most likely got the flu. It’s been going around the office. I had it a few weeks ago myself, and it’s miserable. I doubt he’s slept properly last night, and who knows when’s the last time he’s had a sip of water. I’m going to move this along.”

Jon’s stomach twists uncomfortably at Tim’s words. He wants to argue; he wants to assure the two that he’s not been stricken with something as mundane as the flu and that he’s perfectly fit to go to work as soon as someone gets him out of this damn box. Yet, he can’t find an ounce of physical energy to feed his wants. He can only curl further into himself, dropping his head back atop his knees, and he’s already drifting once more. 

“Just hang on, Jon. We’ll get you out.” 

***

It’s another two hours before the elevator rumbles back to life. Jon’s asleep when it happens, but he wakes to two sets of hands hovering over him, crowding him, feeling his forehead, mouths moving far too fast yet too slow to beat around the ringing in his ears. 

“-burning up.”

“Yeah, he’s completely out of it. Boss? Jon, you with us?”

Something cold is suddenly being pressed to Jon’s lips, and he welcomes it, his throat bobbing against the cold water. He reaches up to wrap shaking, greedy fingers around the bottle. He takes in big swallows until his lungs quake with a need to cough, and then he sputters around some water and coughs harshly into his fist.

“-shouldn’t go to work like this. I’ll call Elias.”

“Okay, I’m going to take him back up to his flat. Get a read on the fever.” 

“Sure. I’ll meet you up there.” 

Jon’s suddenly being pulled to his feet, and he moves with the steady grip on his arm. His legs immediately begin to cramp and tremble, and he sways, eyes glassy, unfocused, but then someone’s wrapping an even steadier arm around his waist, and the person is grounded, warm. Jon drops his head to the crook of the person’s neck, shivering, exhausted. 

“It’s alright, Jon. We’re here.” 

Martin. Jon hums lowly, pressing himself impossibly close to Martin, leeching Martin’s warmth. He can feel the elevator moving around them just as much as he can feel the worried side gaze on him. “I don’t feel well,” he admits, half-faded. 

“I know, but we’re going to take care of you.” 

Martin’s voice, like his arm, is steady, even, and Jon nods against Martin’s neck. For once, he allows himself to abandon control and place his trust into someone else’s hands, clutching onto the knowledge that Martin and Tim are here and that Martin and Tim will help him.

[cryinginthebackseat]

initials t.c.

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x MC

Words: 7.299 (I’M SO SORRY)

Summary: Tobias Carrick makes Claire an offer she can’t refuse.

Warnings: 50% plot, 50% smut, swear-a-thon, blasphemy

Author’s Note: when the book first introduced us to tobias carrick, the first thing that hit my mind was “okay, but that dude is like the carbon copy of jesse williams and that’s hot” but then, once it reveals who he is and what’s his role in the book i went “interestinggggggg” cause you know, i’m a sucker for morally grey characters and all, and i’m not even ashamed to admit it. also, carrick is shaping up to be such an interesting character with each chapter and maybe one day- okay, maybe this sounds like a pipe dream- but one day, i hope he can be a li (let a girl dream plz) lmao

also if anyone’s interested, i made a PLAYLIST to accompany reading the fic.

the title is inspired by serge gainsbourg’s initials bb

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Cast down off heaven Cast down on my knees I’ve lain with the devil Cursed god above Forsaken heaven

To Bring You My Love - PJ Harvey

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Whenever Claire thinks about Tobias Carrick, admittedly, unfortunately, tragically, she always thinks about his eyes first before remembering what a colossal pain in the ass he is.

It always comes in that order. Like the number 3 always comes before 4, like the seawater dragging back from the shoreline before a tsunami occurs, like pouring milk before the cereal (she honestly didn’t get what the fuss is about until one day Elijah cried ‘oh, hell no you don’t, satan!‘ one morning and proceeded to give her bullet points why pouring the milk before the cereal is considered a sin and more of an abomination than Nephilims’ existence and that there’s a higher probability that she’s a psycho for being a ‘milk first’ kind of person). So apparently, Claire’s a psycho now which explains so many aspects- but she digresses and the point is, the reaction is uncontrollable and she high-key hates how she can’t control her goddamn mind most of the time.

The point is, she needs to stop thinking about him to begin with. 

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Claire Castelnuovo was born in the summer, under the sign of Gemini. Marilyn Monroe once said that stands for intellect, being a Gemini, but she was too blissfully unaware of this guerdon that she devoted her adolescent years to being outdoors instead. Too many days she spent trampling along the cornfields with her cousins until the skies faded out with brilliant purple-tinged amber and she was carrying a piece of the sun in her skin and smelled like one, stuffing wildflowers inside her boots as she walked around the neighborhood with her dad’s old stethoscope, napping in a hammock with Oasis’ All Around the World on repeat. By the time she hit 15, her black strands had turned brown from repeated sun exposure. She loved it.

But it was a different time, a different place. Somewhere that only exists on the margins of her memories, lost and hidden.

Now, Claire prefers the night.

It’s 9:30 pm when she arrives at a hotel bar in downtown Boston. A newly christened establishment which has somehow become a regular spot for Hemingway’s enthusiasts once the Boston Globe wrote an article about their Hemingway Daiquiri and how, as they wrote it, ‘probably the only place that’s brave and crazy enough to adhere to the 1930s original recipe’ and bourgeois party birds at wee hours during the weekend.

Her eyes are gritty, dry and strange. Her mind’s much worse for the wear- she feels like shit, like in the middle of watching that scene from The Green Mile shit when all is hopeless and you feel like walking out of the theater, but you’ve spent your last savings just to buy the ticket, so you decide to stick through it.

Claire makes a beeline for the bar, tries to flag down the bartender. She orders an Old Fashioned, making sure to specify to double it because she’s not a regular here and he’s not Reggie and that’s how she’s been taking her drink for years.

She knows well deep in her bones that she should be somewhere else. Somewhere more familiar, somewhere where Tim Mcgraw often plays from the subpar speakers, and the rustic wooden bar countertop is gouging and discoloring from the cheap household cleaners and alcohol stains, and her friends are cramming together in the same booth in the back, reveling and laughing until they close the bar down and make a mess all over. Perhaps it’s a mistake coming here, where no one’s a familiar face and the drinks are a tad overpriced for her budget.

But then, perhaps this is exactly what she needs; the unfamiliarity, the visceral feeling knowing that she doesn’t belong here, where no one knows her name and the huge deal of weight she’s currently carrying on her shoulders. Perhaps, she can’t face her friends after what happened, after what Esme has done. Shit, how could any of this happen? Claire knows this all on Esme’s, but her guilt has grown hopelessly tangled with her anxiety. She’s her intern, for fuck’s sake, Claire’s supposed to prevent this from happening in the first place.

Man, where’s Declan Nash when she feels like punching someone in the face?

Claire makes the mistake of drinking her drink too quickly, because it hasn’t been ten minutes and she’s drained half of the content. Then she reaches for her phone in her bag, fiddles with it, absent-minded, equal parts bored before then settles on watching the band performing Art Pepper’s You Go To My Head and immediately thinks of that time she accidentally dropped her brother’s saxophone in a moment of her rather graceless, wine-soaked self with the whole family present.

Someone plops down on the empty stool next to her. Claire’s now scrolling through her phone- again, bored. Sienna commented on the post Elijah shared to the group chat with a few unnecessary-yet-totally-necessary emojis to the already convoluted series of texts and Claire only reads them in silence, not only because her friends’ texting behaviors are too chaotic for her to follow sometimes but she’s not really feeling like talking to anyone right now.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Famous last words.

Claire freezes in her seat. Her phone’s still glowing in her hand, alighting her features. She recognizes that voice- too well, that is and it’s enough to set off her flight-or-fight response.

She glances up from her phone, preparing for the worst.

Well, what’s presented before her is literally the worst.

“Of all the gin joints…” she says once her eyes find Tobias Carrick sitting next to her, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled-up, a few buttons undone, reeking of smoke, soap and antiseptic with a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

She should have gone to Donahue’s instead.

“Evening to you too, Castelnuovo. Drinking your dinner tonight, I see?”

“What, this? No, this is breakfast. 100% daily value of alcohol and pretty much nothing else. I mean, it’s not the weekend without a bad case of hangover and an aspirin snowglobe in the morning, am I right? You know, like a glass of aspirin? Not a literal snowglobe?” she blabbers, realizing just so by the time she hears him snort. Claire chokes down another sip to shut her mouth up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m about to commit first-degree murder and burn this whole place to the ground,” he drawls, the ever goddamn sarcastic. “What do you think? I’m trying to get dru-”

“No, I mean what are you doing here, of all places? Can’t you get drunk somewhere else?” she interrupts, her midwest accent does funny things to the vowels and consonants- something that only happens whenever she’s in distress, or at least according to Jackie.

“Last time I heard, this joint’s still owned by the Hilton, not a certain junior member of the Diagnostics Team at Edenbrook hospital.”

“Dude, what do you think of the H in Claire H. Castelnuovo stands for?” Deadpan, trying to keep up with the rolling sarcasm, she retorts. He smirks.

“Horatio?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she mutters, mid-eye-roll, mid-snickering.

He chuckles, his voice rich and smoky amidst the late-night swing and distant chatters. Carrick doesn’t leave, of course, typically him- if those anecdotes Ethan told her has taught her anything about his character, that is- defying everything, scheming his way to the top, the embodiment of ‘those devilish boys with their heavenly eyes’ type your mother warns you about.

Not that the latter is relevant.

“Or what?” His mouth twitches but there’s a hard, challenging light in his eyes that she knows too well by now.

“Or I’m leaving.“ She shoots him a glare. He’s testing her patience- again, like it’s his finesse. Some things never change, it seems.

“Come on, Castelnuovo, don’t be a sourpuss. The night is young and I can promise you, the last thing I am is a horrible drinking buddy.”

With a touch of irony, she replies: “I’m sure. I bet you asked your friends to fill out a questionnaire every time you went out with them, did you?”

Carrick hums.

“You’re funny.” But he says it in the same tone that someone might say Jesus fuck, you’re probably one of the most frustrating creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. Also, because the next thing he says is: “A little rough around the edges, but funny nonetheless.”

“That makes one of us then.”

Carrick frowns, which is kind of a surprise because she’s half expected him to flash her that signature cheeky grin of his.

“Listen, I’m just trying to make a friendly conversation here. I know we haven’t really seen eye-to-eye with each othe-”

Claire snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. “That, doctor, is an understatement of the fucking century.”

“Okay so, we’re like Tom and Jerry but sans the background music and a naive little duckling running around calling one of us his momma, but I feel like now’s the time to call out a temporary truce between us.” A beat, then: “I heard about what happened with the intern.”

Something flashes across her face- and Carrick must have noticed it, because his face does this odd thing- it softens, even for a moment. She hates it. He’s not supposed to be looking at her like that, not supposed to see her at her weakest state or saved her ass- And Jesus, why does she have to be indebted to Tobias Carrick, of all people- But god forbid, the last thing she’ll ever do is crying in front of him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, barely audible, trying to temper her fluctuated emotions.

“Then don’t. We can talk about anything else or fall into some sort of endless, meaningless platitudes. Whichever will work.” As if sensing Claire’s lingering hesitation, he adds. “Tell you what, to sweeten the offer, your next drinks are on me.”

She assesses him for a long minute, eyes narrowing. She’s shaking her head, but her mouth, as if against her will, instead says: “Careful, Carrick, there’s a chance I’ll be abusing that offer and run you dry.”

"Hey, if you want to butcher your liver so bad, don’t stop on my account,” he says. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure to save your ass again this time around. Pro bono.”

Claire looks as if she’s just swallowed a dead rat. “Thanks, but no thanks. Death seems more like an appealing choice.”

“Well, I stopped death from interfering then, I’ll stop it again.” Carrick winks, she pretends to gag again yet remains still in her seat, so Carrick waves at the bartender for their order- she orders for a refill and he, a martini and Claire is this close from asking 'shaken or stirred?’ but then remembers who he is and immediately washes the question down with her drink.

“You know, if anyone told me weeks ago that I’d be having a drink with you tonight, I probably would have socked them.“

Carrick is in the middle of lighting his cigarette, but laughs instead. “The Times They Are a-Changin’, as Bob Dylan said.” A puff of smoke escapes his mouth, curling around his fingers. Claire instinctively looks away. “Which reminds me of that one time your mentor sang Ballad of A Thin Man on the fucking subway when we were 20.”

She swivels her head to his direction, on the verge of choking on her drink. “Hold on, hold on, Ethan Jonah Ramsey sings?”

“Give him a dare he couldn’t refuse and a few shots of whiskey, and I promise you he’ll sing like Sinatra on crack.” He grins, his eyes are all crinkled and bright; she thinks that means he’s genuinely amused. “Ah, good times. We were like- wait, who was it he’d like to say we’re like again?”

A small smile pulls at her lips. “Bert and Ernie.”

“Jesus, he really fucking compares us to some Sesame Street characters, huh?” She laughs at that, loud and bright. He does the same. “Personally, I’d always say we were like Butch and Sundance back then- rebels with a cause, a band of misfits, trying to leave our marks on the world. You know those types. We were young, we wanted so much- I still do. I mean, let’s be real, whoever’s wanted to be defeated at their own game?”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, not quite a frown.

“Nobody,” Claire concurs, hating herself for it. “But was it worth it? Betraying the closest thing you had to a brother or a lover…” Carrick coughs on his smoke from the latter. “or whatever in the process just to get what you wanted?” Claire was obviously aiming for that brash, hard-hitting jab, but it lands gloriously too soft.

The bartender finally places their ordered drinks down on the bar. Carrick reaches for it, taking a careful swig, then sets his glass down. He takes a deep breath.

"It’s nothing personal. It never was. I never considered him as my rival.”

“Yeah, but by doing whatever you did, you’ve made an enemy out of him,” she counters. “Look, Carrick, I know we live in a dog-eat-dog world and I know being good sometimes doesn’t get the job done. Perhaps Machiavelli was right. Perhaps, when necessary, you have to be ruthless, dissembling and manoeuvring- what did he say again? ‘The end justifies the means’? But if any worthwhile end can justify the means to attain it, if everyone outright surrenders to their darker side, then what’s left of our humanity?”

For an interminable moment, there is only silence. He simply stares at her, as if she’s a walking, talking Rubik’s cube he can’t solve or a book that he has opened and now he’s got to know so much more and she feels pinned under those warm irises, uneasy.

Suddenly, his mouth begins to take shape; the corners hike up, stretch and then he does the unexpected.

The bastard fucking laughs.

“Excuse me?!” she spits, white-hot anger lacing each word. Carrick laughs harder- the audacity- despite Claire’s growing razor’s edge stare. “Did you just laugh at me? I was being fucking seriou-”

“Sorry, sorry.” Wiping an imaginary tear from his left eye. “I was just remembering Harper’s words. She’s right, you really are on the side of the angels, aren’t you?”

She points at him with her glass, snarling. “And you, mister, are the devil himself with a medical degree and an egg head- and I don’t mean the slang for a highly academic person.”

“Ouch,” Carrick says out loud, still kind of laughing, borderline frowning. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Damn straight. Though you have a lot to apologize for.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about that one patient I stole under your nose?”

“The North remembers, ser,” she says, mean-spirited.

“Then does the North remembers that I saved her life?”

“Oh, so you’re discrediting the efforts of the other doctors that helped you make the cure?”

“Alright, alright. You win.” Carrick holds up his hands, the universal gesture of defeat and takes one final drag of his cigarette. He stubs it out, all the while keeping his gaze on her.

“So, how exactly can I make it up to you?“

Claire blinks- once, twice, thrice, realizing his intent. His voice drops an octave and he’s leaning in, close enough for her to notice the constellations of freckles splaying across his face and the way his brown eyes glinted like two shots of whiskey under a stream of light, intense and all-consuming. She feels her mind races, her brains feel as if they underwent a short-circuit and get caught on fire, and the fact that her mind’s on the precipice of exploring the idea is not helping.

A burst of laughter erupts from her throat, not that it’s funny- there’s nothing funny about the situation, but someone ought to diffuse this shift of tension between them, or that was her aim, at least.

“What, you wanna pay me back?” she asks, trying to keep her voice from cracking but failing miserably. Fingers trembling against her glass as she chugs nearly a quarter of her drink in one go.

He notices that.

"A Lannister always pays his debts, does he? If you think that I owe you one, then I’ll gladly pay.” His eyes flick back to her face, searing into her. The air crackles between them. The band is playing a different song now, a sound that only exists on the margin of her attention. If they’re in, say a mid 2000s rom-com movie, someone would probably interrupt this moment and save her from this. But this isn’t a movie.

Claire licks her lips, a candid reaction which encourages him to inch closer- or is it her? She can’t tell anymore. Tracing odd patterns on the palm of her hand with his finger and oh god, this is Carrick, the bane of her fucking existence, she’d shoot him first before she kisses him. But something about the prospect of fucking this bastard twists her insides deliciously into a confused mess.

“How? By fucking me?” she inquires, feigning scandalized- all that Catholic guilt bullshit.

He grins, all-teeth and wolfish and shrugs as if they’re talking about his life insurance policy or shit. “Well, that’s the idea.”

“But you don’t even like me.” It should come out as I don’t even like you, but even she knows that’ll be just another lie she tells.

“On the contrary, I enjoy our rivalry far more than I should, Castelnuovo,” he purrs and places a hand on her knee. Her throat bobs. She’s wearing a skirt, it didn’t seem important then, but now his hand feels warm against her skin, dangling on the edge of impropriety. Like gravity, all it takes is a little push for him to cross that line.

“I should be disliking the way you talk to me, challenging me and putting me on the back foot every goddamn time. I should be focusing on taking you down a peg, but the more I see you, the more I realize you have an attractive kind of power. And I’m just one man. And if there’s anything I learned, the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

But then his movement suddenly ceases. Claire almost asks why.

"However…”

“What?” she stares up at him, eyes wide, breath hitching.

“However if you only accept alcohol as the currency for transactions, then I’ll tell the bartender to get us another round instead,“ he tells her, offering her one last chance to back out from this, from making this mistake with him.

Claire stares into her drink, actually mulling this over. Her mind tells her no, but the other part- the alcohol-infused part of her mind- whispers otherwise. She imagines if Ethan or any of her friends are here, they would probably grab her shoulder and shake the living hell out of her for even reconsidering his offer.

But then again, intelligence, alcohol and desperation have always had a bad history of getting along together.

“What about June?” Claire asks against her better judgement, after a long, considerable pause. Carrick raises a confused brow.

“What about her?”

“I thought you guys…” she trails off, makes a face, feeling all-kind of flustered and aroused and wow, she’s really doing this, huh? “I mean, I don’t know- I don’t wanna get in between you guys.”

“Nah. It was only a three time thing, but there’s never been anything between us.” He chuckles at Claire’s askance look. “If you don’t believe me, you can fact-check it with the woman herself,” Carrick adds, looking at her dead-on with his eyes like he wants to get the message across.

She regards him silently for a long second, and maybe she’s a touch drunk now, maybe the bartender put something in her drink, or maybe she just needs to blow off some steam after what’s been happening in these past few weeks and Carrick happens to be a decent warm body for the occasion, but Claire finds herself shifting closer.

"Then I want you to pay me back.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she answers, more sure this time, more determined.

Her nose bumps his, his breath fanning across her face all the while Carrick’s slightly pushing her skirt up, letting his fingertips travel higher. His eyes keep darting back and forth from her eyes and lips, checking for her reaction. There is no inhibition here, not anymore. People might be watching- heck, they could be already watching and it terrifies her that she doesn’t give a damn about it.

“But if you tell anyone about this, I swear to god… ” she warns and a shadow of mirth passes across his eyes, making her almost regretting this. Almost.

“Claire, darling.” It’s the first time he’s ever said her name and her stomach does a tango. “Your secret is safe with me.“ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

He gets them a room in the hotel, it’s on the twentieth floor. Carrick handles the accommodation- he can afford it, apparently, which is not really surprising and the nuisating check-in procedure while Claire only waits in the lobby like a beautiful, agitated china doll amidst the turbulent sea the whole time until he comes back, flashes the room key at her and beckons her to follow.

She goes ahead of him, but he catches up. His body heat sends her anxiety rocketing sky-high through the roof as they walk next to each other, hands briefly brushing against one another but she ignores that (or at least she tries).

They are silent in the elevator, they are silent even once they reach the designated floor and walk down the hall to their room where the dim and shadowed lights follow their steps like vultures.

Carrick holds open the door for her and she enters, taking in the windows and the striking view of Boston skyline peeking behind the curtains, the TV and the queen-sized bed. The latter does nothing to assuage the anticipation that’s bubbling in the pit of her stomach, by the way.

Claire hears him shut the door, locking both bolts. She peers at him over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. Their eyes meet, neither speaks. He’s taking off his black peacoat, back against the door, he’s looking at her as if wanting her is his full-time occupation and the realizations comes in like a mule kick, how that tiny voice inside her head, the one that tells her that this is a bad idea and she’s better off leaving never comes.

The room is not considerably huge (with $110 per night, you would have expected you’d get a bigger room), he could easily have her in six large steps, yet he stands there. Sizing her up, smirking rather devilishly, handsomely as if challenging her to make the first move. It’s another fucking game with him. A display of power, waiting who would fall first.

Claire finally turns around to face him. With a renowned determination, she removes her coat, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor. Her blouse follows next and her skirt, which she tugs it oh so slowly down her legs.

Carrick’s eyes widen, if she doesn’t know better, she thinks he’s speechless. He takes a deep breath, his gaze religiously following every movement as she twirls around once more to unhook her bra. His jaw clenches and unclenches. He’s having a hard time keeping himself in check which she takes an immense pleasure in. Claire just wants to see the man squirm for a change, even if she has to shed every article of clothing she wears.

By the time she slips off of her underwear, she is breathing raggedly. He hasn’t yet approached her so she crawls onto the bed, lying on her back with one elbow props her up, legs crossed. She kicks off her heels, rolls down her stockings with a bit of that noir come-hither, Lauren Bacall-esque heavy bedroom eyes.

Finally, Carrick steps closer until he’s only a hair’s breadth away, like a target, filling her line of sight. The tension in the room is hot enough to send the thermometer reaching its maximum limit and she’s burning, burning, burning right through the core.

Claire cranes her head up to meet his gaze, noticing the way he’s drinking in her body like a pirate ogling a bottle of rum. High-strung, tense, Carrick lowers his head to her, his fingers carding through her long hair. Dimness consumes him raw, his silhouette is starting to find its place amongst the shadows except for his eyes. Never does the fire in his eyes falter, merely alight.

They are already nose-to-nose when Claire suddenly raises her hand over his lips. He withdraws from her, looking confused and hot and bothered.

“Take a seat over there, will you?” She motions to the settee near the bed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He smirks, but she can see his bravado if faltering. “Ordering me around in the bed now, are we?”

“Didn’t you say tonight is about you making it up to me?”

“Touche, touche.” Carrick straightens his posture and makes his way to the settee across from her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat given the growing issue in his pants.

With eyes still trained to his, Claire cups her own breast, fingers pinching her pebbled nipple before the same hand travels lower down her stomach, her thighs. Carrick leans forward in his seat, obviously liking where this is going before Claire slowly and teasingly part her legs for him to see.

A surprised groan escapes him.

“Jesus, Claire,” Carrick hisses. “Fuck, I didn’t know you’re a goddamn tease.”

She doesn’t bother replying to him, but a winning grin finds its way across her face as she lays on her back, her shame and modesty are distant, knees pulled up so he can have a clear view of her. With two fingers, she runs them along her folds, dragging them slowly up to her clit. Claire imagines they are his fingers- which once upon a time would have horrified her, but tonight, as she repeats the motion over and over, knowing that he’s sitting there, watching her without being able to get his hands on her, she decides to submit to this newfound fantasy.

A rustle pulls her back to reality. He’s undoing his own pants, palming his cock, runs his fingers over the leaking head.

A low moan catches in her throat at that, her gaze snapping up from his erection to his face where his irises have darkened and pupils dilated. He wants to show her, that’s he’s as depraved as her when it comes to wanting, that he fucking wants her and in spades and she fails to think like a normal human being anymore.

Claire uses that image to work on herself harder, faster, feeling the intense pressure beginning to build beneath her fingers. She’s so wet now, despite him being able to see that, she wants him to hear it as well as she uses her idle hand to tap against herself. Carrick growls, his pace matching the rhythm she’s setting.

She slips her fingers inside her, drops her head back against the mattress and bites a loud moan that threatens to escape her lips. Flushing scarlet all over her abdomen, her breasts and up to her neck. Her blood thumping louder than bombs in her ears, her breaths begin to come in gasps.

Another fast and hard thrust from fingers, and Claire finds herself sighing his name.

“Tobias…”

And every last bit of his self-restraint snaps.

In just a blink of an eye, Carrick is already on his feet, grabs her waist, harshly, and tugs her down onto the edge of the bed where he’s now kneeling before her. He doesn’t bother with the teasings or soft kisses or caresses, and even before Claire has the time to register what’s happening, he crushes his face between her parted legs and eats her out.

She gasps, high and fleeting, twisting the bed sheet between her fists while his tongue flicks over her, moving back up, back down, lapping along her folds in the same motions she showed him with her hand, how she likes it. Claire forgets how to breathe. It just occurs to her just how arousing the sight of him on his knees like this, sending her mind hitchhiking into outer space.

“Oh, fuck.” She breathes, back arching on the bed with a drawn-out moan. “Fuck, Tobias!” Her hips gyrate over his mouth and she presses her heels against his shoulder blades. She’s so close. All she needs is a little push to send her careening into oblivion and it seems that Carrick can sense it because he brings two digits to her entrance and slides easily inside her, setting a ruthless pace.

With her hands reaching out to the back of his head, Claire cries out his name and trembles violently. Encouraged, Carrick curves his fingers inside her, hitting that exact spot that finally undoes her as she comes, long and hard, around his mouth and fingers- the kind of orgasm that you can feel deep in your bones- and watches as fireworks dance behind her lids.

When she finally comes down from her high, everything is hazy. It’s like waking up from a deep slumber after a decadent soak in a scented bath and she loses all orientation, until she feels him nipping the inside of her thighs. She hisses, glances down, heavy-lidded eyes finding Carrick is leaving bruises after bruises all over her skin like some kind of a lewd memento of his work, like he wants her to remember this the next time she wakes up in her own bed and he’s not there.

"Are you trying to turn me into a Na'vi, doctor?” She asks, still kinda breathless, feeling surprisingly conversational despite having just experienced, if not, one of the best orgasms in her life. He smiles against her thigh and withdraws from her, only after her thighs are sufficiently bruised enough, licks his fingers clean and stands up at the end of the bed.

“Maybe. You’d make a cute blue extraterrestrial creature, though,” he replies cheekily, then undoes the button of his shirt, showcasing his naked torso.

Claire feels her cheeks heating up again, but forces herself to stare; eyes following his pectoral muscles, down to the toned lines of his abdomen while he slides off of his pants. The man is one fine specimen, alright, and he knows- smug bastard- and she thinks it’s such a shame that Carrick is… well, Carrick. If the man learns how to shut up for one minute or avoid trying to sabotage everyone’s career at Edenbrook altogether, maybe, just maybe, she’d consider him.

“But honestly, I just wanted to hear you say my name again,” Carrick continues, crawling his way up to her, pulling her out of her musings. He settles between her thighs. His lips finding her ear and nibbling at the lobe while his fingers pinching and pulling at her nipple. Claire shivers. Nails scraping along his skin, raising angry marks that would certainly be there tomorrow.

When they kiss, it’s so good that she can’t help but curl her toes. He kisses her like he’s trying to steal her breath or her name. She can taste herself in his mouth, which sparks so many feelings inside her. Her mind’s foggy, sweat pooling on her forehead. Carrick is but shoves his tongue into her mouth, lapping at her, biting, sucking and she leans hard into the kiss, retaliates by scraping her teeth against his bottom lip. It spurs him on. Making his cock twitch against her thigh and Claire decides she can’t wait anymore.

Claire rolls her hips at him. He takes the hint and rolls over to grab a condom from his pants. Then he’s back on top of her, his weight and heat crushing her most deliciously and brings her body further up the bed with him; she drapes her legs around his hips, hands gripping his arms. Her lust and anticipation collaborate to the point of near madness.

Carrick nips the taut line of her jaw and drives himself into her.

They both groan in unison.

“Oh, fuck.” Carrick mumbles between shaky breaths, his face pressed against her throat. “Fucking hell, Claire, you feel so warm.”

Claire, on the other hand, goes rigid under him. Her mouth hangs open and her world narrows down to the feeling of his cock inside her and the pleasure that builds up again in her abdomen.

This is happening, she thinks, he’s inside her and it feels so amazing. She might as well be crazy for agreeing to do this with him in the first place, but the promise of the thrill beats the doubts.

He starts slow, just the smallest fraction of hips, gently thrusting back and forth in shallow motions. She whines, frustrated and impatient, raising her own hips to meet his, but Carrick’s weight pins her onto the mattress and she can’t fucking move.

“F-faster,” Claire stammers, her molars grinding like toothache.

The bastard smirks, like he’s been anticipating the word coming out of her mouth.

“Beg for it.” His words are punctuated with every unhurried stroke he’s giving her, teasing her and if she’s not in the middle of being fucked right now, she would have kicked him in the balls.

Growling, she swallows her plea by pulling Carrick down for another kiss. This time, she’s the one who does the biting and the sucking, making sure he’s distracted enough and then just like with all the things she does in her life, she takes the matter into her own hands.

With all her strength, she scrambles up, pushes him off of her and knocks him onto his back flat on the bed. When she swings her legs to straddle him, his eyes pop.

“Holy shit, you are feisty.”

“Only cause I’m angry and horny,” she bites off. Angling herself above him and with one hand, guides his shaft back to her opening. “And you- you weren’t doing a proper job fucking me.”

He smirks. “I was trying to wind you up.”

“Fuck you.”

She lowers herself and sinks back onto his cock, relishing in his moans and growls.

“Baby, you’re doing it.” His hands curling around her waist, his head falls back onto the bed, exposing his throat and Claire is so hard-pressed not to bite him there.

Claire ignores his smartassness, naturally, and lifts herself, drops back down. Slamming her hips into his until she’s bouncing on him. Nails clawing at his chest. Finally be able to set a pace she desperately craves for, finally wiping that smirk off of his face.

Under her, Carrick is biting his lip in an effort to not to lose control. His hands are everywhere now; her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her cheeks. Leaving fire on its wake. She might still hate him after this is strange, little arrangement is over but at this juncture, he’s exactly the remedy she needs after everything.

Then Carrick wraps his arms around her and picks up the pace, thrusting into her hard and fast. Claire shakes. She can’t catch her breath, her forehead pressed on his shoulder, her teeth latching onto his skin. Breathing a string of 'fuckfuckfuck’ while he squeezes her ass and continues to fuck her with careless abandon.

"Tobias.” Her moans amplify. She’s close to climaxing again, her legs quivering. Eyes wide shut. “Please, please.” So much for not begging.

He pulls her to him so their foreheads meet. Their lips brush against each other, but they aren’t kissing, merely trading breaths. A hand touches her cheek and her lids flutter open, finding his eyes- those depthless, amber eyes that pretty much lead her to this point, are watching her, pulling her in.

“Say it again,” he encourages darkly, face twists in pleasure. “My name. Say it again.”

She does it again, it comes out as a groaned whisper, repeating it over and over again like a sacred mantra.

Her second orgasm sweeps through her, making her spine arches, it tears a winded moan from her throat and it’s more than enough to trigger Carrick’s own release; fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, groaning gutturally.

Panting, sore but sated, Claire collapses on top of his chest, his arm still drapes around her. The rise and fall of his breath lull her to sleep. Before she knows it, he gently rolls her to his side, pulling the covers for them and kisses her on the shoulder, which comes out as… odd for her.

The bed moves and she feels him leaving.

He’s leaving.

He’s leaving.

She doesn’t know why it stings, but it does. But also Claire opts not to pay no mind to it and forces her mind to surrender to sleep that once again tries to take hold.

Claire wishes she doesn’t dream of him that night, but she does.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s way past midnight when she wakes up. The room is dark. The curtains are closed. She’s still naked and sore under the covers, mind reeling in from what has just transpired.

One might ask in which universe does Claire Castelnuovo agree to sleep with Tobias Carrick? Well, apparently they did it in this one and oddly still, she doesn’t regret it. Though she’s still low-key sad that he left her straight after sex, but hey, what can she do about it? This arrangement itself is nothing but a means to an end, anyway, a perverse alternative for him to pay back what he allegedly owes her, she shouldn’t be surprised if he left after the ‘debt’ is paid.

Feeling her mood somehow takes an unexpected dip, she gets us from the bed and gathers her clothes on the floor.

She’s in the middle of zipping up her skirt when the bedside lamp flickers and comes on.

Claire turns around. Carrick, rousing from sleep, looks at her, rubbing his eyes and stifles a yawn. His lips still tinged from her kisses and bites.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep and Claire thinks her mouth is hanging open, standing rooted to the spot like a spider on an icicle; frozen in time.

For a moment, she does nothing but stares at him, being rendered speechless. For many times, Tobias Carrick never fails to surprise her. Just when she thinks she has him all figured out, he comes sneaking in through her windows like a thief in the night and it just strikes her, how he really is an uncharted territory for her. Despite her having him pinned under her, exploring the hard planes of his body under the touches just a few hours ago.

The man is like a fucking myth, at this point. She knows him only from stories and her limited time around him, but who is exactly Tobias Carrick? Is he the competitive doctor at Mass Kenmore, the Machiavellian asshole that severed his friendship/relationship with Ethan for the sake of his greed and ambition? Or is he, Tobias Carrick, the man who saves her life, makes her laugh and kisses her shoulder in the afterglow?

She’ll probably never know.

“Yeah, my roommates will probably deploy a search party if I don’t come home tonight,” she replies, distracted, finally finding her own voice back. He nods, feigning disappointment- or is he not? She clears her throat and continues putting on her clothes. “I thought you left.”

He chuckles at the absurdity of her deduction. “And without saying goodbye?” Carrick rolls off of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s already wearing his pants- thank fuck for that- and approaches her. “I may be an asshole, Castelnuovo, but just so you know, my mother raised me better than that.”

So they’re back to their usual last name basis perimeter. That’s good, right? After all of this, she thinks a little familiarity would be nice for her sanity.

“Good to know, then.”

Silence encompasses the room. It’s awkward and overwhelming and it throws her a little off-balance. At the bar, they seemed to know exactly what to say to each other- especially him; but now, even she can sense the hesitation in his gait, at the way he’s looking at her and a faint alarm is trilling her head. Because if he’s making this awkward, she can do a whole lot of worse.

"Oh, before you ask, that makes up for pretty much everything, yeah. I mean, it’s alright.” You fucking dumbass, she thinks to herself, averting his gaze while a smile blooms on his face.

“Good to know, then.” He parrots her words and she huffs a laugh, freely and sweetly, like she’s currently not knee-deep in her problems or she’s just fucked the most incorrigible man that ever exists. He does too, but his gaze lands on her mouth before going back to her eyes.

Another silence passes. It’s time to go.

“I have to go now.”

He nods mutely and moves away so Claire can step past him.

She wears her coat. In the mirror, she still looks thoroughly fucked; her hair’s dishevelled, she smells like him now, but she really needs to go. She promises herself that this will be a one time thing because, Jesus fuck, she’s supposed to be smarter than this. She’s not fifteen anymore, and this is not the summer where she can watch the sunset from the cornfields with her cousins even though his eyes possess the same color.

Yet she walks toward the door in a daze, like she’s forgetting something but can’t pinpoint what it is.

“Can I-”

“Hey, do you-”

She stops, mid-turning, and closes her mouth. She doesn’t realize she’s interrupting him.

“Oh, sorry,” Claire says, embarrassed. “You go first, it’s alright.”

“Can I have your number?” he asks, uncharacteristically hesitant.

She thinks he’s joking or maybe he’s just feigning interest, but one look at his eyes and she can tell that this isn’t smoke and mirrors.

The eyes, chico. They never lie. It’s dumb, but that line from Scarface is the first thing that comes to her mind. That’s why when she hands him her phone, her hand is shaking slightly. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a maniac.  

Claire takes a cursory glance at her phone once he returns it. He saved his number solely as t.c. with the water drop, the syringe, the ghost, the eggplant, the firework emoji and she chuckles endearingly, questioning the universe how he can easily get both a rise and a laugh out of her.

“I’ll text you?” Carrick asks again and she nods a little too enthusiastically at it, but what the hell?

“Sure.”

“Alright.” He takes one look at her, steps closer and for a moment, she thinks he might be going to kiss her.

“Goodnight, Claire,” Carrick says instead and she nods, admitting the fact that he’s not going to do it.

“Goodnight to you too, Tobias.” Then pauses at the doorway, feeling surprisingly bold. “I gotta give it to you, though, for someone who’s become the bane of my existence for months, you’re a damn good lay.”

He barks out a laugh, obviously, that Claire can hear all the way down the hall. And she thinks she can get used to the sound.

                                                         fin.

Tag list: @villain-fuckarooni @beckaroo @arfeiniel​ @this-person-is-busy @colossalpainintheass​ @drethanramslay @hatescapsicum @theeccentricbibliophile

[gallavictorious]

11x03 Fill-In Ficlet: Use Your Words (Or Don’t)

How do they go from sniping at each other in the kitchen to enthusiastically banging it out just a little while later? And why on Earth is horrible, horrible dirty talk suddenly a thing?

Well, they have this whole conversation where they basically talk things through but, you know, in their Ian and Mickey way of not talking things through but totally talking things through. You know? Also, there are kisses.

Warnings for some truly atrocious attempts at dirty talk but no actual smut. Also vague displays of a fucked-up relationship with violence, and clueless dumbasses trying, and only halfway succeeding, to chill with the misogyny and toxic masculinity. For all that this is mostly ridiculous and self-indulgent fluff.

Read below or on AO3.

---

They walk home from the Alibi together, but six feet apart and in silence.

Dinner is mostly silence, too, the celebration of Carl's first arrest dampened by Lip's outburst and Debbie storming off. Lip and Tami soon excuse themselves; Liam has homework; it's Carl's turn to do the dishes. (That mostly means they won't get done, but at least they'll know whom to blame when there's no clean plates or knives in the morning.)

Mickey's pours himself another glass of Jameson, but pauses when Ian abruptly rises from the table. His husband doesn't spare him a second glance though, but merely puts the half-thawed vegetables back in the freezer and walks off with a half-hearted “night” to his two younger brothers.

Well, fuck you too.

Mickey can feel Liam's eyes on him, but for once the kid keeps his mouth shut.

Smart kid.

Mickey takes his time emptying the glass. Takes the time to fill it up again and empty it once more too, while pointedly not listening to a single word Carl is saying about the fucking arrest he made.

Then it's getting late and there's nothing for it and he's sick and tired of them not being fine anyway, so fuck it.

He leaves the glass on the table for Carl to tidy away.

In their room Ian's sitting on the bed with his back towards the wall and a book in his lap. He looks up when Mickey enters, but doesn't say anything and promptly turns his attention back to his paperback. His jaw is set, but his shoulders slumped. Angry still, then - but tired even more than angry. Defeated, maybe.

Mickey fucking hates to see it.

He busies himself by the drawers, aimlessly rifling through the socks for something to do with his hands. “So. Quit your job?”

There's a brief pause, as if Ian's trying to determine whether Mickey's trying to start something again, and whether or not to strike first with a snarky reply. In the end he settles for a soft exhalation and,  “Yep. Tried to make me to work for free through my lunch break.”

He'd told Mickey as much already, at the Alibi. Hadn't gone so good, so this time Mickey tries for a different response: “Fuck 'em. We'll be fine 'til you find something else. Too good for that fucking place anyway.”

Another pause, long enough that Mickey turns from his fumbling with the socks to look at his husband. Ian's staring down at his book, mouth opening and closing a few times, like he's on the edge of saying something but then thinks better of it.

“Yeah,” he mutters at long last. “Don't know that I am anymore. Bipolar ex-convict in the worst economy in fucking lifetime? Not seeing a lot of options for me here.” Before Mickey has time to think of an appropriate response to that Ian's eyes darts to his face; darts away just as quickly. “Manager called me a little bitch.”

Oh. Okay. Yeah. Fuck.

Moving over to the bed, Mickey sits down on the edge of it. “That manager's a fucking idiot. The hell does he know? That's bullshit.”

Ian lifts his head at that, looking at Mickey with something that might be hope tempered with wary skepticism, and a hint of challenge. “Really?”

Mickey meets his gaze without flinching; holds it for a moment. “Yeah, man. Bet that asshole knew you could break him in half without breaking a sweat, that's why he's spouting stupid fucking stupid shit like that.”

A beat, to let that sink in, and then Mickey allows his lips curl into a grin, pulling his legs up on the bed to crawl over to Ian and crowd him: “'Cause you know you're the toughest motherfucker on the South Side, so big and so strong and so manly.” He reaches out to squeeze Ian's left bicep for emphasis.

“You're a dick.” But Ian doesn't pull away and he's starting to smile, as Mickey hoped he would; it's in his eyes first, softening and a glimmer, and then it's on his lips, growing wider.

Mickey feels his own grin grow wider too, as something in his chest loosens and lets up.

“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrows suggestively raised as he, ignoring the dull protest of his aching ribs, leans in to let his lips brush over Ian's in a not-quite-a-kiss. “Whatcha gonna do about it, huh? Gonna bend me over and pound me so hard I fucking scream? Gonna make me beg for your... your big, fat cock?”

Ian tilts his head to the side, brow furrowed in faux affront. “You calling my dick fat?”

“Think I've got the right to, Tim Kruger, I've choked on it enough times.”

A snort of surprised laughter and then Ian's hand is on the back of his head, pulling him in for a kiss that is hard and hungry and coming home. Mickey shifts to straddle his thighs, their lips never parting, and fuck, it's just been a few days but it's been too fucking long.

It goes on for some time; Ian's arms around him, fingers scratching against his scalp; Mickey's hands running up and down Ian's sides, as they kiss and they kiss and they kiss.

At long last, with a long sigh, Ian pulls back a little, his eyes searching Mickey's as he runs a thumb over his cheek.

“You want me to do that?” he asks after a moment, and there's just the faintest note of uncertainty in his voice.

Mickey doesn't like it. He doesn't want Ian to be uncertain about him, about them, ever. But he bites down on the urge to bristle. Takes a deep breath. “Do what?”

“Bend you over.” A tentative, lopsided smile. “Make you beg”

Ah. “Ain't never said no to that shit before, Gallagher.” How the hell is that even a question?  Okay, there'd been this morning, kind of, and maybe a few times when they just started fucking and he had issues and things got a little too intense or whatever, and he's not so much for the actual begging, but in general, Mickey's never been opposed to Ian getting a little – or a lot – decisive with him.

Least not as long as he doesn't make him feel lesser than for liking it that way.

“Mm.” Ian nods, but he doesn't lean back in to resume the kiss. Instead he reaches out to run his hand over Mickey's thigh, idly, and with a pensive look on his face.

Mickey very, very badly wants to tell him that now that that's cleared up maybe you could get on with it but he's determined not to be (too much of) an asshole tonight; to be patient. He waits, and eventually Ian looks up. The uncertainty has seemingly fled; the look in his green eyes is calm once more, and direct:

“So just to be clear: you're not exclusively a top now?”

“What? Hell no.” Mickey makes a face, genuinely taken aback by the notion, but then he shrugs. “Doesn't mean I'd mind switching it up once in a while, though. We've tried all kinds of new shit after we got married, figured it might be fun to try that too.” He pauses, chewing his lip. “Thought you'd be cool with it.”

Ian smiles, reaching out to give a playful little tug to Mickey's hair. “Give me some warning next time and I will be.” Abruptly, his smile turns devilish. “After all, how could I resist such a stunning embodiment of pure masculine prowess?”

Mickey's eyes widen. Oh. Uh-huh. All right then.

“I dunno,” he says, pushing hard for feigned thoughfulness even as he pushes his ass down on Ian's groin, wiggling just a little. “Seems like six pack-packing, strong-willed, stoic soldier boy like you could resist just about anything.”

Ian's quiet laugher is cut short by a sharp intake of breath as Mickey leans in to nip at his ear. “Even a – ah – man-swole hardass?”

“Yeah, 'cause you're such a top dog alpha male.“

“Ultra super power bottom.“

“Fierce and ruthless devastator of assholes.”

“Yeah, asshole is right... Ow! Okay, you're going down … you big manly boss man.“

---

If there is a moment, quite some time later, when they're both happy and spent and relaxing in each other's arms –

If there is a moment, when Ian's eyes stray to the bruises on on Mickey's side, and if he reaches out to let his fingers brush over them in the whisper of a touch, if a shadow passes over his face –

Mickey will catch his hand and bring it up to his lips to press a quick kiss to it.

“Looks worse than it is,” he will say and Ian's lips will twist, in rueful smile or grimace or both:

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Bastard who jumped me hits like a fucking - “ Mickey will break off and make a disgusted face. “Hits like a... a... a fucking weak person. Jesus Christ. Fucking V.”

Ian will chuckle. A bit weakly, perhaps, still a little lost to the lingering memories of the afternoon, but he will chuckle. Will pull Mickey closer to him, carefully; push his nose to his hair and breathe him in. “I love you.”

And Mickey will smile. “Mm. I know. Love you, too.”

---

A/N: Listen, I don't begrudge anyone engaging in bad dirty talk if that's what gets them going, but I didn't really expect it for Ian and Mickey. I guess this is my attempt to wed what we saw in mid-credits scene to my already established perception of the characters. Oh, and I have a kink for understated reconciliation so there was no way in hell I wouldn't jump on this. XD That also means I want to read ALL THE FIC written on this topic, so if you write/see any, please let me know?

Tim Kruger is a gay porn star with a huge dick, btw. I know this because I googled "gay porn star huge dick". I have some regrets.

[walkerwords]

“Survivors” Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader

GIF CREDIT: http://gph.is/2h2hmM4

Request from anonymous: hi! i really love your writing so i was hoping i could make a request. could you do a daryl x reader where he meets reader at hill top when jesus takes them there for the first time. she’s like the person who handles a lot of their defense and she’s really tough and badass and she doesn’t really trust any of them yet. only if you want of course! 💘💘

Word Count: 2230

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Mustang Kids” by Zella Day

Note: I did end up making this GN. I am going to try and get more GN fics up, but I do tend to write with a more female centered voice and always have, but I am workin on it! Anyone have some tips on writing for Gender Neutral?

------

Daryl didn’t like Jesus, he didn’t trust Jesus, and he definitely didn’t want to meet any more of his people. 

However, they needed food and Rick decided to accept the invitation. Daryl kept telling himself that he wasn’t going to play nice with the new people and that this was just going to be a transaction, nothing more.

After rescuing some of Jesus’ people on the road, the group headed into what Jesus had introduced as The Hilltop. Daryl wasn’t thrilled when their people suddenly began pointing spears at them. As soon as Jesus defused the situation, they walked through the tall gates of Hilltop and were surprised to see a semi-thriving community. 

The Hilltop was vastly different from Alexandria. It looked as if the community lived more in the past rather than the present. Where Alexandria had solar panels, running water, and modern-day houses, The Hilltop focused on trailers, a blacksmith, and a large Colonial house that stood proudly at the center. 

“That's called Barrington House,” Jesus explained, “The family that owned it gave it to the state in the '30s. The state turned it into a living history museum. Every elementary school for 50 miles used to come here for field trips. The place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it'd keep running after the modern world broke down. Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction. It's perfect for security. Come on. I'll show you inside.” Jesus gestured the group forward and they followed, keeping their hands on their weapons. 

As everyone moved into the house, Jesus explained more about how they used the former museum and how they planned to grow Hilltop even further to account for the future. As he finished explaining the living situations, a new voice cut into the conversation. 

“Jesus. You're back. With guests,” an older man said as he stepped out of a room on the main level. Jesus gave Rick a look that said ‘here we go’ and then turned to pleasantly greet the newcomer. 

“Everyone, this is Gregory. He keeps the trains running on time around here,” he introduced. Rick decided to take the high road and go and introduce himself when Gregory cut him off and offered the group a place to wash up. Michonne was wary at first, but eventually, some people took him up on the offer, but not before Rick took Maggie aside and told her that she should be the one to speak to Gregory first. 

As Maggie began negotiations with Gregory, Abraham and Daryl stood watch by the front door. While Jesus had been telling the truth about who the man was they saved, the community’s doctor, and that Hilltop was an actual place and not a trap, Daryl had relaxed slightly. However, he was still not dropping his guard completely. 

When the front door to Barrington opened, Abraham stood up straighter. As the door shut, Daryl finally got a look at you. Just by the way you stood and examined Abraham, Daryl knew you were someone who held authority. 

“You must be the crew that Jesus brought in,” you said, a slight twang to your voice. It wasn’t as thick as most Southerners, but Daryl could tell that you had picked up on the accent from just living down South. 

“Abraham Ford,” Abraham introduced. You shook the hand he offered, returning his strong grip with one of your own. 

“I’m (Y/N),” you said, “I’m the one behind all the defenses here.” 

“I do like someone who can be strategic,” Abraham said with a nod of approval. He then nodded towards Daryl and you turned to greet him, however, you did not offer your hand as his own stayed by his side. “That’s Daryl.” Dixon nodded to you and you returned the gesture with a small smile.

It wasn’t much but it told Daryl that you were attempting to show that you weren’t there to fill them with lead, considering the Glock on your hip. In fact, that was the first gun he had seen since walking through the gates. 

“Speaking of Jesus,” you continued, “know where I can find him?”

“He’s with your boss,” Daryl commented. 

“Gregory?” you asked and he nodded. You sighed with a roll of your eyes. 

“Not a fan?” Abraham asked, easily reading your body language. 

“Gregory is an imbecile who thinks he can run this place better than Jesus and I,” you said, lowering the volume of your voice. “Word of advice, listen to Jesus before you listen to our ‘boss’. I’ll talk to him later.” With another nod, you turned on your heel and walked right back out into the sunlit community. Abraham then grinned at Daryl. 

“Okay, them, I like.”

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

After the meeting with Gregory, Maggie and Rick looked at Daryl with a look that said “this isn’t going to be easy”. 

Daryl had figured as much. While Gregory thought about a few things, Jesus invited the group to take a turn about Hilltop. After vaguely learning about everything that was going on around the area, Daryl didn’t want to think about having to fight again. He had done enough fighting since Atlanta. However, he also knew that Alexandria was a good thing for them and Rick was willing to do whatever it took to keep their new home. 

Daryl walked with Michonne, Rick, Jesus, and Maggie, taking in everything that was going on. He could see Sasha and Abraham ahead of them, their tactical eyes scanning everyone and everything. 

“If ya ain’t supposed to have guns,” Daryl said, pulling Jesus from his conversation with Maggie, “why does (Y/N) have one?”

“You met (Y/N)?” Jesus asked. 

“They were lookin’ for ya,” Daryl explained.

“Ah, well they’re head honcho around here,” Jesus explained. “They’re former military and they know how to keep us safe. Without (Y/N), this place would have been overrun a long time ago.” 

“If you have them,” Maggie said, “why do you still have an issue with whoever is messin’ with you?” 

“Our enemies’ guns are bigger,” Jesus said with a sigh. “(Y/N) keeps theirs hidden whenever they come around and only ever takes a shot when it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Secret weapon,” Michonne said with an impressed look. 

“More like secret Nuclear Bomb,” Jesus said. Daryl didn’t like the thought of an unknown enemy, nor did he like that The Hilltop was being run by an apparent moron. Gregory reminded him of the Governor but without the intelligence and military-grade weapons. 

The mystery threat became very real when a sudden commotion drew Daryl and the others to the main area.

“Ethan, what happened to everybody else? Where's Tim and Marsha?” Gregory was asking a man that had just returned to Hilltop. 

“They're dead,” Ethan said. 

“Negan? 

“Yeah.”

“We had a deal!” Gregory exclaimed. Rick looked at Daryl with wariness, causing the latter to shrug. 

“He said it wasn't enough. Was the drop light?” Ethan asked. 

“No, of course not,” Gregory said, but Daryl could sense a lie. 

“They still have Craig. They said they'd keep him alive, return him to us, if I deliver a message to you.” 

“So, tell me,” Gregory urged. Instead of answering the man approached his leader and frowned.

“I'm sorry,” he said before sheathing a blade into Gregory’s abdomen. Chaos ensued after that.

Across the yard, you watched on with an exasperated expression on your bored face. This wasn’t the first time inner fighting had happened and you were honestly tired of it.

You watched as the woman you heard the leader call Michonne, take one of your own to the ground in a single move. Daryl had taken down another who went for Abraham and in a major shock, the leader, you believed his name was Rick, slit open Ethan’s throat. 

It wasn’t until the ground was covered in blood that Jesus finally noticed you. “A little help would have been nice,” Jesus said. You pushed off the post you were leaning against and approached the body on the ground. 

“Cowboy here had it handled,” you said and then pulled your knife and stabbed Ethan in the head. “Besides, he was an asshole anyway.” Jesus sighed and then helped get Gregory to Dr. Carson. Glancing around at the new people, you weren’t sure what they were thinking.

However, you knew right then that even after knowing Negan, Rick was the scariest man you had ever met. “If it’s any consolation,” you said approaching the bloodied leader, “if it came down to a fight between you and the big bad, my money’s on you.”

---------

Later that night after Jesus had finally explained who Negan was and what the Saviors had done to The Hilltop and other communities, Daryl needed some air. 

He walked around the community as Rick and Maggie talked with Jesus, trying to make a plan who would then talk to Gregory. Essentially, Alexandria was willing to take out the Saviors if The Hilltop was willing to share its resources. Daryl was also willing to bet that Rick would throw in a few extra guns if it meant the group got both food and allies. 

As Daryl approached the main gate, he saw you standing on the watch post, a pair of binoculars in your hand. He hesitated for a moment before tightening his bow on his back and climbing the ladder.

It wasn’t just that you were a warrior in the new world, but Daryl felt drawn to you because he could sense that you were like him. Someone who had seen horrors before and after the end of the world. It was rare when someone came out harder on the other side rather than breaking down. He respected that greatly. 

“Lookin’ for anything in particular?” Daryl asked. Dropping your binoculars you shook your head. 

“Never really am,” you explained. “The Dead tend to keep their distance this far from larger plains and forests. As for people, well, they don’t come around since the Saviors put their boots on our necks.”

“Jesus explained who they were,” Daryl said, leaning on the makeshift railing. 

“Real sons of bitches,” you said. 

“You gonna lead any of yer people in the raid?” Daryl asked. 

“I ain’t goin’,” you said, taking a swig from a flask on your hip. You offered it to the archer who shook his head. In the dark of the night, Daryl looked dangerous. You could tell by the way he watched the others around your home that he was a hunter. He may have just hunted animals back before the Turn, but now he had other targets in mind. 

“Why not?” he asked. 

“I prefer to be on the defense rather than the offense,” you explained. “Especially when it comes to these assholes.”

“Sometimes you gotta do both,” Daryl said. You laughed under your breath. Daryl reminded you of your old Sergeant. He was always telling you similar things when you were in basic and then more so as you moved up the ranks. 

“You seem like a smart man, Daryl,” you said and he raised an eyebrow. “Try not to die, will ya? We need people like you.” 

“Ya just met me,” Daryl said. “How can ya tell what kind of person I am?” he asked. Your brow furrowed as you thought about his question. 

“I’ve known people like you,” you explained. “Survivors.” Daryl nodded and thought about all the survivors he had met and how they were now dead. Shane, Dale, Lori, Beth… he didn’t think it was enough to just survive anymore. Which is why he was willing to go along with the raid, kill as many Saviors as possible if it meant that his family could be safe. 

“What about you?” Daryl asked. 

“What about me?” you asked, staring out over the dark landscape. 

“You a survivor?” 

“So far,” you agreed. “I managed to tough it out this long without getting my throat torn out so I suppose that’s a start.”

“Have ya always been here?” Daryl asked, gesturing to Hilltop. 

“No, I stumbled across Jesus one day. Needed a place to go, told him I could fight and so he offered me a place to stay for the night. Then, I just never left. Figured someone should be able to keep these people safe and Jesus couldn’t do it alone.” 

“Right with his Ninja moves that look like somethin’ from a damn old action movie,” Daryl said with a snort. 

“Seen those, have you?”

“Unfortunately,” Daryl sighed. 

“He’s a good guy. Knew that the moment I met him.” 

“So, yer good at readin’ people, are ya?” Daryl asked and you nodded. 

“I am,” you admitted. 

“And what’s yer opinion on me?” he asked. You were quiet for a moment and then decided on telling the truth. 

“I don’t trust you, any of you. At least, not yet,” you admitted. Daryl seemed happy with that answer and then gestured to the flask. You handed it to him and he took a pull. 

“Good,” he said, staring off into the night. 

“Though,” you said, “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.” 

“Don’t count on it,” he said with a scoff. Smiling at him, you took another pull of your drink, relishing in the subtle burn. 

“I never do.”

TAGS:  @thanossexual​ @felicisimor​ @yes-sir-hotchner​

[pedros-mustache-main]

a bushel & a peck

i will never let go of sd!deaky. this takes place directly after the events in “the arrangement” (uh... not 18+ but suggestive content below whoop)

freddie tries to convince you to forgo dinner and go back to john’s house to make-up for lost time. he wiggles his eyebrows, does a suggestive move with his hips that makes you giggle into john’s chest, but you decide to stay. freddie—er, his chef—went to all the work to prepare a nice spread for dinner, and you don’t want to see it go to waste. besides, there will be plenty of time to indulge with john later.

all throughout the meal, john has his hand on your thigh. his palm simply rests there, never inches higher or trails lower, but it’s a firm reminder of just how much you missed him these last four months. his touch is electrifying. it always has been, but it’s all the more dangerous now. with every zing that courses through your arm at the nudge of his hand or every bolt of energy that stops your heart when he looks at you with such fondness, you feel yourself slipping beneath his spell.

you love him.

somewhere between dessert and an aggressive game of gin rummy, john rises from the table. he brushes his hands along his jeans then reaches for your shoulder. 

“we should get going,” he says. his eyes are soft as they look at you, but there’s an intensity there, a need, that you recognize. 

freddie slumps against the back of his chair. “oh, finally! i thought you’d never go!”

“fred!” you frown as you stand. john lifts your coat from the back of your chair and drapes it over your shoulders. you catch his eye as he slides behind you, takes your wrist, and tugs you toward the door. he smiles; you smile back. “it’s not polite to kick your guests out/”

“besides acquiring my magnificent painting, it was also my goal to put you two back together tonight.” freddies moves his finger between yourself and john, his stare both judgmental and teasing at the same time. “as soon as i succeeded, i was ready to throw supper out with the dishwater, so to speak. who cares about pot roast when you can fuck the living daylights out of one another?”

john sighs, shaking his head. “okay, fred, i think that’s enough.”

“pfft.” freddie tosses his head like a prima-donna, and you’ve never seen a movement so fitting for his personality. “we both know what you’re going home to do, deaky. don’t pretend to be such a prude.”

you’re grinning as john leads you to his car parked on the street. it’s cold out, a light snow falling from the dark sky. the white flakes glisten in the lamplight as they fall to catch in john’s curls. he must have gotten a haircut; nothing dramatic, but his curls are shorter now. you wonder how else he’s changed.

he opens the passenger door to his car, and you slide into the vehicle with ease. once seated, john turns on the engine, blasts the heater, and grabs your hand. he places your joined fingers on his knee, barely giving you a glance as he pulls into the desolate street. the glow of the dashboard illuminates the strength of his jaw, the straight line of his nose. your gaze lingers on his mouth.

one kiss. you’d only managed one kiss before freddie stormed into the dining room with a paper party horn and obnoxious cheering. the memory still tingles on your lips.

“you’re staring, love.” john’s voice breaks your thoughts, and you slip low against the seat as a wave of embarrassment washes over you. you’ve never felt like this before: vulnerable and safe and open and scared all at the same time.

this must be what love feels like, you think.

“sorry,” you whisper. you try to pull your hand from his grasp, but he holds tight and shoots you a grin.

“‘s fine. it’s nice actually. i feel like i was always the one staring.”

you have to smile at this, at the way you so artfully avoided recognizing his feelings and giving into yours. you really were an idiot. “maybe you were—always staring, i mean. i tried not to notice.”

you drive the rest of the way home in silence. it’s a comfortable silence. the windshield wipers brush off the falling snow at a steady pace, and the air from the heaters threaten to drag you beneath a thin veil of sleep. you fight to keep your eyes open, but eventually give in, especially after john turns on the radio and soft music fills the car. 

he wakes you with a nudge to the arm. “we’re home.”

you blink, yawning as you stretch. it’s only as you follow him over the threshold that his words settle on your heart. 

we’re home.

you grin, tucking your lower lip beneath your teeth. yes—you are home.

john’s house, unlike his hair, hasn’t changed at all. it’s the same, save for a rather large ding in the living room wall. you touch the paint-scraped spot and look at him for an explanation. from his place at the sideboard where he pours himself a small glass of whisky, he just shrugs.

“row with brian,” he says. “you want some?”

you shake your head and plop on the couch. the cushions mold against your body, and you give an experimental bounce. beneath you, the springs groan and squeak. you bounce again, again, like a child, but stop when john sits down next to you.

“i thought you were going to get this replaced.”

“haven’t had the time.” he takes a sip of his drink, lips curling against the immediate burn. you watch his mouth react, watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “things have been busy since... well, since we split.”

“a new album, yes?” you take the glass from his hands and take a sip of your own, right over the spot where he just drank. it’s silly; it’s childish; but drinking from the same spot he had sends a thrill to your belly. it’s like you’ve kissed him again but only through glass and alcohol.

“mhm.” he watches your lips against the rim of the glass. his tongue flicks out to lick the corner of his mouth. “the working title is ‘the miracle’ but that could change.”

you place the glass on the coffee table and move to curl your legs beneath you. you prop your arm up and reach out to tug at his shortened curls. “you got your hair cut.”

he smirks, lifting a hand to run over his head. his fingers connect with yours, and he pulls away quickly, shifting in his seat. he’s nervous; you are too.

he suggests you put on a film, and that’s fine by you. it’s enough to simply sit beside him, feel the warmth radiating off his chest. your flat has grown so cold as of late. you forgot what it felt like to be in a home—a proper, well-decorated, well-lived in home.

leaning your head against his shoulder, you snuggle against his side and mindlessly watch the television. it’s clue staring tim curry, and though you’ve already seen the film, it makes you laugh nonetheless. john runs his hand up and down your arm, his breathing steady.

“you remind me of colonel mustard.”

“i don’t know if i should take that as a compliment.”

pressing your hand against his chest, you lift yourself to meet his gaze. “oh, i mean it as a compliment. he’s forceful. he knows what he wants and he goes for it.” 

you realize then that you are precariously close to john’s mouth. in times past, you would have slipped off the couch and asked him to come and join you in the bedroom to alleviate the tension in the room. tonight—tonight, you let the tension linger. you let him stare at your face, your eyes, your lips. you want him to kiss you. you ache for him to kiss you, but you will let him make the first move. after all, this is painfully new to you. you can’t remember the last proper relationship you entertained.

john clears his throat and shuffles out of your grasp. he stands from the couch and goes to fiddle with the alcohol decanters on the sideboard. you frown.

“john?”

he repositions the glass decanters then moves them again. “huh?”

“don’t you want to kiss me?”

his wrist knocks the lid of one of the decanters off. it bangs against the sideboard, and he curses beneath his breath in his haste to right the bottle. then he looks at you and he’s all wide eyes and hunger and desperation. the movie continues in the background. the butler is running across the foyer demonstrating a possible solution to the murder. 

“[y/n], i—” he rubs the back of his neck, looking away on a sigh.

“well?” you move to your knees on the side of the couch, your palms flat against the armrest. “don’t you? you haven’t tried once since we were at fred’s.”

with a sheepish sort of glance, john cringes. “i’m afraid if i start, i won’t be able to stop.”

you roll your eyes. “we’ve shagged before, john. i figured we’d get there eventually tonight.”

“no, that’s not what i mean.” he drops his hand from behind his head and steps closer until his thighs are pressed against the couch armrest. you tilt your head back to look at him. he’s so tall like this, hovering over you with equal parts ravenous desire and careful patience. he skims his fingertips along the column of your neck. “i have imagined kissing you in thousands of different ways, in hundreds of different places. if i start now, i will kiss you until your lips beg for relief.”

“fuck,” you breathe. your grip tightens on the armrest. 

“ever since we made our arrangement, i have wanted to kiss you.” he swallows, eyes holding on your mouth. “i held back for your sake, but now? just knowing i can...” he lowers himself to his knees, his thumb dragging your lower lip down. 

you blink. your mind is blank, an empty canvas waiting for him to fill it with the markings of his love.

john swallows hard, and his eyes flick to yours. “do you know how often i’ve thought of this? i felt like an idiot, going to bed some nights and just dreaming about your lips on mine. how could something so simple be so important?”

you shake your head, speechless. “i don’t know...”

he continues. “other guys, i bet they went to bed and rubbed one out thinking about your body. me? i was the sorry fuck who couldn’t stop thinking about your lips on mine.”

“john.” it’s a whine—and a pathetic one at that—but you have never heard him talk like this, never heard him wax philosophical about kissing you. part of you wants to grab his face and smash your lips together. the other part never wants him to stop talking.

he leans close, and you close your eyes, prepared to meet bliss in the simple form of a kiss. his breath just fans over you, and he keeps talking.

“you know, in some cultures, kissing is thought to be two souls becoming one.” this time his thumb brushes over your top lip. you resist the urge to pull his thumb between your teeth and bite down on his knuckle, something, anything, to get him on with it. “maybe that’s why you never let me kiss you, huh?”

“i don’t know,” you say again. god, you sound stupid. god, you want him to kiss you. “maybe.”

“when was your first kiss?”

you shake your head slightly, caught off guard by the question. “what?” you meet his eyes, dragging your gaze away from his mouth, to find him searching you beneath your stare. 

“when was your first kiss?”

you snort through your nose. “you won’t believe me.”

“try me. i was nine, if that makes you feel any better.”

you smirk. “it was when you kissed me in freddie’s dining room. that was my first kiss.”

he goes still. his eyes dart between yours, and your heart hammers so painfully against your chest you think you might be going into cardiac arrest. finally, he moves. he grabs your face, his fingers brushing the edges of your hair.

“god, fuck, i love you,” he mutters before slamming his mouth against yours.

unlike your first kiss in the dining room, this one is rough. it speaks of years of him pining, of you wondering, and, yes, of two souls becoming one. you grunt softly at the impact of his face on yours, but it’s not painful. it’s delicious. john moves his mouth over yours with expertise, and you struggle to keep up with him, to match him and his tongue and his lips. if you are unskilled, he doesn’t seem to mind. he truly kisses you senseless, any wit you had left in your brain leaking out of your ears. 

your skin is hot, radiating a heat unlike anything you’ve felt before. you struggle to breathe as the kiss lingers, and you drag your mouth away, gasping for air. he looks at you through his lashes, his palm framing the side of your face. his chest rises and falls with the weight of his hard breathing, and you’ve never seen pupils so blown with desire—all from a kiss.

“you love me?” his voice is strained, but in earnest.

you nod and lick your lips. at the sight of the motion, he can’t help but dip back down and capture your mouth for the briefest of seconds. when he pulls away, you say, “yes, i love you.”

“you will let me love you?”

“please.” you’re surprised at the lump which rises in your throat. it clogs your voice with emotion, and you sniff hard against a sudden onslaught of tears. “please love me.”

with the softest of smiles, john tilts your chin with his thumb and forefinger and kisses you again. you press your hands against his chest, fist your palms in his shirt. this feeling—of being loved and loving and kissing—is better than any arrangement, any gift, any fuck you’ve ever received. you push a little harder against his mouth, eager now, eager for him to kiss you until you beg for relief just as he promised.

he pulls away, stands, and offers you a hand. “come to bed, love.” you slip your fingers between his and fall off the couch on wobbly legs. he grips your waist, kisses your temple then your mouth. “i’ve got you.”

[mysticprofessoralienhumanoid]

Maribat ideas I will probably never write

Now, before we start.

I realize that those may have already been made but I've never seen them and everything here came from my mind. But if you remember the titles, please tell me them or send a link to the stories, I'd love to read them.

This can be whatever ship you want Connorette, Daminette, Cassandra x Marinette, Brucinette... Any ship.

Here I'll refer to them just as the bats or one of the bats, or just choose a random one of them simply because I don't know the exact person that'd fit in the au with Marinette so I'm just leaving it up to you but... yeah.

[And yes, I know I said it could be Connor or Jon or anyone else, and I know they are not part of Batclan but for the lack of better word, just roll with it]

Yes, you can use any of them, but please tag me (i really want to read what you came up with) and include the link to my post so maybe someone else could use any other of these.

And if want to add anything or just brainstorm in the comments I'd love to do it with you, so don't be shy and say what you think (constructive critism only).

Maybe i will update this, but for now feel free to use any of these over 20 (i think at least) ideas I came with in these past 2 weeks cuz i was bored.

And before you start, I'm thinking of making mafia boss! Marinette AU, but i don't know what ship it should be... Suggestions? (Just not the love square please)

Hope you like it.

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

Violinist Marinette. The Waynes got invited to a concert in which Mari played a solo. And they're all just enchanted with her talent.

Marinette a Badass Dancer. None of the bats is a dancer in this AU and I don't really have any direction where this would go, but i just had a scene where she kicks their asses even though she doesn't have much (or any) exprience in martial arts. Just her spinning and kicking one of them mid-spin in the face or... somewhere else...

So the scene is a Wayne Gala, right? Jagged Stone dares Marinette to sing a song on a stage (there’s live music band, i guess?). Everyone’s mesmerised by her voice and Jagged can be heard screaming “That’s my niece!” in the backround. I really want her to sing Creep , a cover by Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox ft. Haley Reinhart or Crazy in Love , also a cover made by Sofia Karlberg, though any other song is fine too

Bats and Marinette in a band. That's it. That's the whole AU.

One of the bats is sitting under a tree, all peacefully and relaxed, but then they look up to see a random girl with dark blue hair (??) just hanging upside down from a branch like an actual freaking bat. She gives them a heart attack.

Another Au with singing Marinette lol. In this one Marinette likes to sing in a park every other day and Damian comes here one day and hears her and is like “wow.”, and since then he comes there everyday in hopes of hearing her sing and getting her number. And maybe Luka or Adrien play while she sings, that’d be cool

Guys, Marinette and the Waynes being neighbours. No, but imagine. Them seeing some girl watering plants every week for a month or two and then not seeing her for a long period of time, and they're kinda worried, but then she's back and they're confused, because where the hell she'd been, the house looked like not used and just where the hell was she? Marinette seeing some... Weird things happening in the Wayne backyard. Balconies being in front of each other, so they're balcony neighbours too (the romance, the fluff, even the angst, guys). Marinette going to them with baked goods and introducing herself as their neighbour. Them going to hers and welcoming her with a basket of Alfred's cooking. 

Jason has to participate in a dating show because he lost a bet and Mari's one of the participants too...

Duke needs a date to a wedding (i don't know whose, your choice) and Marinette's his best friend, so be my fake date to this wedding?

Marinette as Tim's daughter??

The greatest showman AU. (Sibling dickinette. On the trapeze-)

Forget rouges, superheroes and vigilantes. Underground dancers. Because it's what i need, y'all

So in this, WE is a dance company, and Marinette's maybe an intern in a fashion department. One day Dick's going to one of the practice rooms where's been scheduled a meeting with a designer for his costume for the next show. Instead he's met with a girl he sees for the first time, practically flying on the dance floor. Just as he's about to reveal himself the rest comes and it turns out this is the fashion designer and it seems as no one knows she's an amazing dancer too

Teachers AU + Rivals AU = utter chaos. Them teaching the same subject and competing for their class' loves and/or arguing whose close is better. [Bonus points if everyone's thinking they hate each others guts, but they're secretly dating]

Fencers AU - on the same team on different teams, your choice. (And this honestly suits with Kagami too. I'm up for kagami x bat/marinette)

Damian in the park with Mar'i, but he's having trouble, because this kid has so much energy. How?? Just when he thinks he can take a breath, he notices Mar'i has wandered off and is talking to a young woman, so he rushes there and try to apologize, but she says it's no problem at all. Suddenly this gorgeous girl offers him her help. It looks like Mar'i has taken liking to her and he's so tired, so he agrees and for the rest day watches two Mari's play together and falls in love with the older one. Plotwist: this was plan all along. Mar'i is the ultimate wingwoman.

All the Wayne siblings decided to go to one of those haunted houses for a halloween and there's this petite girl who tagged along their group somehow. They didn't expect to see this tiny girl punching the worker dressed as a monster and knocking the daylight out of him. But it was so worth getting kicked out.

Marinette's a ghost and these four men came to her house and apparently they're doing a ghost investigation?? I mean, she was getting a bit lonely and bored, maybe it's time to "gain some friends" (read: scare the living out of them).

Pretty much the above but with bat/s as ghost/s and Marinette as the paranormal investigator with her team (i honestly want one of them to be Kagami, i don't know why). In both you need to decide who's a skeptic and who believes. It's fun, the ghost is trying to scare them off, but they're stubborn.

Sibling dickinette where Marinette calls her older brother everytime she wants to get out of a date and so he pretends to "arrest" her. (And then maybe dick decides to play a matchmaker and sets her up with one of his adoptive siblings)

Marinette as a lawyer. Her going against LexCorps who framed Wayne Enterprises for something. Or maybe Bruce was accused of murder (that he obviously did not commit) and now she has to prove his innocence. I just really want to read about badass lawyer Marinette, guys

Merlin AU. Is there any AUs with Marinette being Merlin and saving Arthur's ass (I honestly think it should be Chloe, no joke)?

Mominette where she adopts Cassandra. I just imagined them going to ballet lessons together and cooking and now I'm soft.

Marinette got dared by her friends to set a trap for the passerby that involved eggs, toy train and glitter and to then to pretend they're her ex and they cheated in her, and Jason had the misfortune to be that passerby. (Yes, this is probably crack lol)

Tim can rap. Marinette can rap. What could go wrong?? (Yes, this is probably crack too)

There's this girl they see every year when to go on trick-or-treating and she always has the most amazing or scariest costumes. But Damian will not go without a fight and so every year they compete over who has the better costume. This year they just so conveniently dressed up as the famous Halloween couple.

Jon is 17 now and it seems as no one is interested in him. He jokingly tells Damian he supects theres a ghost that's in love with him and they keep away any potential lovers from him. He doesn't know how much he's right. Marinette though, is freaking out.

Marinette decided to take a part-time job at a local pool as a life guard. There's a sudden increase in people coming to said pool but also a dramatic increase in people pretending to drown. Conner is one of them.

Marinette plays a therapist to all of the batfam. The amount of the ridiculous problems she had to listen to... She could write a book and she would make millions out of it, she swears.

"Some say "revenge is a dish best served cold.", then i read "revenge is sweet", so i came to conclusion revenge is ice cream." Huh, so that'd explain the sudden disappearance of ice cream in whole Gotham Jason had been hearing about for the past week from Bruce. The question is, what that petite bluenette is planning to do and who is going to be a victim of her ice cream revenge?

Tim had been in coma for a month after the drug bust, and he has just woken up. The first thing he does? He picks up the argument he and Marinette had been having before he's been put into a coma.

The couple at the place Jason had been at, started making out loudly, so he started making loud noises while eating his ice cream. They stopped. And he got this cute barista's phone number when she was walking past him.

Marinette's at the spa when she overhears two guys betting who can eat more slices of cucumber (that were supposed to be put on their eyelids) and she decided to participate. Safe to say they were all banned from all the spas in Gotham

Can i please get Jason/Duke/anyone making up a bedtime story for Marinette after she woke up from a nasty nightmare? I need it

Every morning and night Marinette pretends to be asleep just so she can feel Damian pull her closer, kiss her temple and whisper how much he loves her

Roy listening to Jason complaining about each first encounter of her girlfriend with his siblings and Bruce. Each is more ridiculous than the one before. He listens to it, after he and Marinette had gone through their own weird af first meeting.

Dick was so busy laughing at the bluenette who'd just walked into a post, he ran into the same post minute later. She asked him out... After she finished laughing and telling him karma's a bitch

Dick likes to think he's the reason Jason and Marinette got married. To his last days he will brag about how at his and Kori's wedding Marinette caught the bouquet, tripped and Jay caught her.

Jason asked Marinette on a date to one of the restaurant the WE owned. Then as a test, he told her he couldn't pay for all the expensive dishes they ordered. She took his hand and they ran out of the building. He's convinced he's going to marry her.

[anothertimdrakestan]

Set In Stone - Choose Your Own Love Story Prologue (Tim Drake or Bart Allen x Reader)

Words: 2k

~ AH!!! Welcome to my newest multi chapter fic! Except there’s a twist! It’s up to you dear reader. I’ll be writing two different stories about each path, like a choose your own adventure, except you choose how your love story progresses to the eventual end! There will be a private masterlist specifically for this series where you can choose the way your personal love story unfolds. Just know that the future is never cemented, meaning you can always go back and try again! Think of this as the prologue to the actual event, but your first decision drops tomorrow, meet Bart or dig deeper into Tim? Hope you enjoy! ~

Seeing teenage heroes was really something else. They were your age, and they weren’t grumpy and old like the Justice League. “Okay well this is fun and all but I wanna hang with people my age!” you groaned following J'onn down the never ending corridors of the Watchtower. “You know your powers are not fit for the type of missions the Young Justice team attempt, you are arguably weaker than the regular human” he reminded you. That was rude. “Am not! I’m an asset! I can’t get hit cuz I know where they’re gonna swing so who cares if I have a mental breakdown every once and while!” J'onn knew you weren’t wrong, you taking a hit was a rare occurrence, but the Justice League refused to risk you even taking one hit, you’d protected thousands by scanning the infinite number of different possible futures. 

“Everything you need is here” you replied “I knew you were gonna say that, like I literally knew it” you also knew you had to prod J'onn just for about two more minutes until you met Nightwing. “Oh my god Nightwing fancy seeing you here!” you grinned at J'onn who now understood your goal. “Hello, I didn’t know the YJ team had a new member?” Dick glanced at J'onn who shrugged. “Do not blame me Nightwing, Flash found her and the team agreed she stays with us” you rolled your eyes before starting with Dick Grayson, but he didn’t know you knew that yet. 

“Hi! Y/N, no last name. Flash found me when he ran into the future and I was totally feeling the mode because I got these powers [ you tapped your head as Dick smirked ] and I can like see different parts of future when I’m super focussed, so like short time is kinda easy but far away and hard and I don’t remember anything from my past. I’m like a future only kinda girl.” you sighed, hoping you’d made sense. Dick’s eyes lit up. “So you don’t have a family, and they’re just keeping you here?” you nodded, crossing your arms to try to look more emotionally secure. 

“Dibs” and something sparked in your head, this was a new future. It hurt. You sunk to the ground clutching your head as a new future bounced around your consciousness. Trying to shake out of it you realized you’d been carried to a med bay, Dick and J'onn stood above you looking concerned. Pushing them off you as you got up you explained “sometimes people make big decisions that change the future, I’m guessing you calling ‘dibs’ on me changed something, but I’m a little too tired to check if that’s okay, also what does dibs even mean?” and Dick smiled, “you’ll have to come find out!” and against J'onn’s protests he pulled you towards the Zeta Tubes. 

Flash zipped in front of you and Dick. “No.” and Dick waved him off. “I’m taking her to the manor, get her to meet the family maybe I’ll get a sister if Bruce is in a mood” he waggled an eyebrow at Flash who was focussed now on you knowing he couldn’t get in Dick’s way. “I know you don’t know him yet but if Jason Todd asks you to do anything that seems dangerous say no. And watch out for Damian’s swords. I guess just look for Tim Drake, he’s a good one” and he patted you on the shoulder. “Go feel the mode kid”  and you face palmed. “Flash you mean crash the mode oh god don’t even try to be cool” you groaned. “You totally have to meet Bart” Dick mumbled before he cleared you for zeta tube access. 

You appeared in what can only be described as a man cave. There was a giant computer where a tiny boy sat covered in leather typing. There was a teenager looking about your age punching dummies while another boy was shooting literally guns at the dummies. “Welcome to the batcave!” Dick announced loud enough for the three boys heads to turn. The smallest boy stopped typing and stalked over to you. “A little young for you Grayson, stolen her from the baby justice team?” you knew this was Damian Wayne, and you couldn’t contain yourself.

“OH MY GOD BATMAN HI!” you screeched pulling him into your chest. “You’re totally crash like so cool but you’re so little right now! Last time I saw you, you were like super tall but you totally got moded or something - oh I wasn’t supposed to say that don’t worry!” Dick nudged you “this is Robin, Batman, Bruce Wayne, is in his office” and you slapped a hand over your mouth. “Right, no spoilers” and Damian stood still, processing his own future. “Moving on, Tim and Jason!” the two older boys had come down to get a closer look.

“Hood, Drake, this is totally cool!” you exclaimed, shaking their hands. “Why is he Red Hood and I’m Drake? Not Red Robin?” Tim looked puzzled. Best not ruin his life like that, this was one of the few things you planned on changing. “Because I know you’re Tim Drake! So does the world, Drake is a good LAST NAME right? Red Robin is totally crash for a hero name!” and Tim looked a little confused, but brushed it off. “What the demon said, she new?” and you shook your head, explaining your story again.

“20 bucks says adoption papers” “50 says she gets a room” “75 on a new animal persona” the boys started screaming bets as soon as they heard the “family trauma emotional instability” part. “Why can’t she be in Young Justice? Or the Outsiders? She’s still a teenager” Tim looked confused. “I dunno man, she’s been with the JL for a while because she’s apparently delicate which is bullshit” Dick explained and you strongly agreed. “None of you could even land a hit on me” you puffed out your chest. “Care to defend that claim?” Damian unsheathed a sword. “No! J'onn sai-” you cut Dick off. “Absolutely ”.

Now you were dodging and ducking Damian’s advances. You’d swung a couple punches but it means undoing some focus which allows Damian to get his own shots in, so you mostly stayed on defense, letting him get frustrated and tired. “I think you’ll get better with practice baby Batman” you teased him. Next was Jason, bullets were hard to avoid because you didn’t have lightning fast reflexes, although that would be nice. But Jason wasn’t as calculated as Damian so you could play a little dirtier. Knocking his guns out of his hands you let up, “this is boring I’m done” you raised from the ground where you and Jason had tumbled down on. 

“So you really have powers. Your moves are all the most probable choice mathematically, you can’t be running the numbers in your head that quick!” Tim was toying with a tablet, shocked at your prediction abilities. “That’s right Boy Wonder, that was fun but I’m feeling kinda diz-” and then you realized you’d overworked yourself a little bit, and it all faded to black. 

You woke up to fully aged Batman. “Oh god no I’m back. How am I back! Damian you were just a kid like ten minutes ago! How long have I been out?” you began to throw blankets off yourself, blankets? You were in a bed in someone’s room. “Calm down, Y/N, Y/N! It’s okay!” and the Older-Damian just enveloped you in a hug. You couldn’t remember the last hug you’d had. Literally couldn’t remember. And it was a welcomed comfort. Pulling away you got a closer look, and it wasn’t Damian Wayne, but Bruce. 

“Bruce right? Current Batman?” you whispered, trying to wrap your mind around what had just happened. “That’s me, I see you’ve met my son, at multiple ages too” his eyes were smiling but his mouth wasn’t, it showed concern. “Yes, I did, I’m sorry for being a nuisance, it’s a pleasure to meet you but clearly I’m a bit moded so I should head back to the tower” you explain beginning to get up. “Actually that’s something I wanted to talk to you about, if you feel alright? [ you nodded, your powers were still a little too weak to peek ahead at what he was going to say ] Well, as you can see, I’ve got a couple of children, and you haven’t even met all of them. And I take them under my protection and I train them, and it seems to me you want training. Now you’re not ready for field work but you can start with me and my team, and maybe do a couple visits with the Young Justice team when Tim heads over. I think I can help you, and give you a family, would that be something you want?” 

A family, you had one of those. And you knew the word brought you warmth, that had to be a good thing. “I think I’d like that a lot, but I’m kinda already with the Justice League ya know? Their personal magic 8 ball.” and Bruce shook his head. “They won’t be a problem for me, you’ll fit right in with my family” and you felt a smile spread over your face. “Then it’s a deal!” and you stuck out a hand, Bruce clasped it, pulling you in for another hug. 

“We’ll talk later about what this means logistically, but there’s someone really excited you’re here.” and Tim Drake came bursting through the door, holding cookies. “Welcome to the team Y/N! You don’t know Alfred yet but he made these! I’m so glad you’re here!” he was beaming with excitement. And blushing? “Hi Tim, I’m glad to be here!” you chirped. Bruce mumbled something about paperwork and left the room as Tim continued. “This is totally cool, if you want I can call Bart I think he’d totally want to meet you! Or, you and I could hangout just the two of us!” there was that blush again. “Yeah! Can I just sit and think for a minute before I catch up with you?” this was a decision you wanted to read into, it felt important. 

Tim left, and you sat back into the plush bed, diving into the future. And it was something you hadn’t seen you. There were two futures, still fuzzy from the infinite decisions to be made securing the future, but it was clear enough to see that it was your wedding day. Down one path you saw a beautiful wedding with someone you haven’t met yet, and you looked beyond happy. You heard yourself whisper “if only Tim were here to see this” wiping a tear away in the arms of your lover. Recoiling back you knew this future wouldn’t do, not at Tim’s expense. So you went towards the other. Same set up, but this time it was Tim that you were marrying, but the same tear slid down your cheek “if only Bart could be here” you recognized the name. Bart, the guy you’re supposed to be meeting. 

And you were stuck in the middle no matter what. Like yin and yang you couldn’t find a future where you didn’t end up in the arms of one at the other’s grave. Or worse, in the futures where you tried to pick them over yourself both lost their lives saving you. So how you do pick? Who gets to be your future and who has to perish to secure it?

“Y/N you ready yet?” Tim called from down stairs. It was years out, but you knew every decision you made from now on was one step closer to the loss of a hero. And there was nothing you could do about it. 

First Decision:

Get To Know Tim Drake First

Meet Bart Allen

 ~ I really hope you’re excited to make your own fic! The masterlist with the choices goes up with the actual start tomorrow! I can’t wait!!! ~