#I hope you never get better at taking photos of your cat op

[stil-lindigo]

since people are zending cats, here is my cat whose name is Ned

rare ned sighting

[bytheangell]

Take Me With You

(For my @shadowhunterbingo square: Traveling | Jimon, Rated Teen, referenced alcohol but no archive warnings/other warnings) (Read on AO3) “I don’t need a bodyguard,” Simon insists. “It was one stupid letter.”

“The letter wasn’t stupid,” Jace says, already regretting his appointment to this job. “It was a death threat, by someone who’s sent multiple things to your unlisted apartment.”

“Well, no one knows where I live on the road, which is where I’ll be for the next three months,” Simon points out.

“Oh, yes, the total inability to track you from a list of cities you’re going to and the dates and times you’ll be there. You’re right, no one will ever find you that way,” Jace says, his tone dripping with sarcasm and more than a little condescending. Simon isn’t a no-name, but he isn’t famous-famous either, and Jace hoped that’d make him a little less awful to put up with than Jace’s usual high-profile assignments. So far it’s the opposite - Simon isn’t taking this seriously at all, which is somehow more frustrating than too much importance being put on minor perceived threats.

Simon sighs. “Fine.” It certainly doesn’t sound like he’s fine with it, but Jace isn’t here to argue. He’s here to do a job.

“Great,” Jace says. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

---

That ends up being a complete lie. Of course, when Jace first imagined blending into the background of Simon’s tour life he hadn’t taken into consideration the fact that Simon drove his own van, which would just be the two of them for extended periods of time.

Jace can tell that he’s putting a damper in the way Simon normally functions during his tours, mostly because he’s quiet while they drive. Then he’ll say something, start to ramble, catch himself rambling, and fall abruptly silent again in a repeating pattern.

“Sorry if I’m cramping your style,” Jace says after one of these repetitions, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music playing in the background.

“You’re not,” Simon insists.

Jace is dubious. “What would you be doing if you were alone?” Jace asks.

Simon doesn’t even hesitate before answering, “Scream-singing at the top of my lungs with the windows down. It’s like, my tried-and-true road trip routine.”

“...so do it. Don’t let me stop you,” Jace says.

“My manager hates it because he’s convinced one of these days I’ll end up losing my voice before a show. It’s probably for the best I’m not,” Simon says before falling silent again.

Jace doesn’t push it, nor does he comment when Simon starts to sing to a song that comes on about half an hour later, his voice growing louder and louder until all the windows are down and he’s shouting lyrics into the cool night air.

Jace has to fight the urge to join him. Normally he doesn’t have an issue staying focused on a job but Simon has this disarming way of making Jace want to relax around him. Somehow what he thought would be his easiest job to date continues to throw surprising complications his way.

Still, he keeps his mouth shut and enjoys Simon’s singing as they continue driving into the night.

---

Watching Simon with his fans is nerve-wracking. There’s no telling who might be a threat, not when everyone seems so down-to-earth, much like Simon himself. There aren’t any obviously obsessive fangirls and normal tells like knowing too many personal details is just the norm, with multiple people casually asking Simon about how his Bubbie Helen is doing or about the cat he left at home with Clary during his tour, or the most recent book he’s been reading and chatting about online. It’s difficult to pick out a potential stalker when everyone knows what Jace would typically consider more personal details than usual about Simon.

Jace watches these pre- and post-show encounters with a feeling more like he’s observing conversations between old friends rather than a musician and his fans, signatures and photo ops aside. Simon knows some of them by name, remembers birthdays mentioned over social media or live chats, and even recalls previous conversations. It’s impressive.

Dressed in plain clothes so he blends in with the crowd, Jace grows increasingly impressed with Simon the more time he spends with him. Plenty of people claim to be humble, but few often are in practice. Not Simon. Simon is everything he told Jace when they first met. He’s the same way with his fans that he is in private with Jace, which is the same way he is with his family and friends - Simon’s just, well, Simon, honestly and earnestly and unapologetically.

It’s refreshing. It’s also just another thing for Jace to push to the back of his mind, because he doesn’t need to like the guy - he just needs to protect him. Simon looks up from the table he’s signing CDs at and shoots Jace a beaming smile, and Jace has to actively force himself not to smile back and simply nod his head in acknowledgment instead.

“It’s an assignment, Herondale. Get your shit together,” Jace mutters to himself from the corner of the room. It’s a reminder he repeats more often over the upcoming weeks than he’s comfortable admitting.

---

“Please,” Jace begs after the first two weeks of shows. “I will pay for a better hotel. Let me pay for a better hotel.”

Simon is shaking his head in response before Jace finishes the request.

“Why?!” Jace glances critically around the room. “Do you want to get murdered in a shady motel? Just because I can keep you alive doesn’t mean we have to actively test it every night when we could have a door that doesn’t look like my 11-year-old brother could kick it in.”

“You have a brother?” Simon asks, ignoring everything else Jace said as he tosses his duffel bag (because Simon doesn’t even have a proper suitcase) onto a bed Jace feels the instinctive need to run a blacklight over.

Jace hesitates to answer because this is a job and he isn’t meant to share personal information about himself with his assignment. It’s strange because normally the people he’s tasked to protect are such self-absorbed assholes they barely spare Jace a second glance, let alone casual conversation.

He’s aware that the pause he takes after what should be a simple question is way too long when Simon frowns, brows pinching together.

“Two brothers, actually. One older, one younger, and a sister,” Jace finally decides to share. It’s all he intends on saying, not wanting to be rude and not answer at all, but when Simon brings up his own sister and keeps talking, keeps asking curious, harmless questions, Jace finds himself answering without thinking.

Simon is easy to talk to - maybe a little too easy to talk to, because the next thing they know it’s 1am and they need to be up and back on the road at 6.

“Get some sleep, Lewis,” Jace says finally, taking a few extra minutes to secure the door before doing one last perimeter sweep. When he gets back he pretends he doesn’t notice Simon, still awake, hastily close his eyes and pretend to sleep the second Jace gets back in the room.

---

After the third week, Jace insists that staying at nicer hotels is a matter of security and finally convinces Simon to pull into the parking lot of a proper hotel. One with room service instead of vending machines, plus a gym and a pool. Jace tells himself it’s a matter of security as well, and not a reaction to Simon complaining about having several nights of terrible sleep and some back and neck pain from the old, cheap mattresses.

Jace certainly doesn’t correct Simon’s assumption that this is covered in the contract when in reality Jace is fronting the extra cost himself. After all, this is as much for his own benefit as it is for Simon’s, right?

That’s what he tells himself as he opens up more around Simon as well, sharing a drink or two when Simon insists (never anything enough to impair his judgment, and only ever when they’re back in a room for the remainder of the night), telling a few more personal stories, and… flirting?

Jace isn’t sure, but occasionally when Simon impulsively runs into an ice cream shop in a new city and gets a cone for each of them, or points out a storefront display with a leather jacket he thinks Jace might like, or leans his shoulder into Jace while laughing at something sarcastic Jace says… yeah, sometimes Jace gets the feeling that Simon might actually like him.

Then Jace just as quickly tells himself that it’s just Simon being nice, because Simon is nice, and because of course Simon’s going to be on good terms with the guy he’s stuck with 24/7 for two months. Jace is working for Simon, and their relationship is strictly professional, however pleasant it may also be.

It’s that hard line Jace knows they won’t cross that allows him to continue to open up more, because Simon’s safe. He’ll never see the guy again when all of this is over.

“You’re a good person, Jace,” Simon says one night after a lengthy conversation.

“...what?” Jace isn’t expecting that.

“You know that, right?” Simon’s tone is just shy of insistent, and certainly not rhetorical.

“Why do you say that?” Jace asks instead of agreeing, because… well, because he doesn’t know that. He tries, but he’s made some shitty decisions in his past, and hurt a lot of people, intentionally or not. And Simon doesn’t even know him, so Jace really doesn’t know where this is coming from.

“Just… the way you talk about yourself sometimes. Like you always have something to prove, or make up for... or like you have to justify everything you say. Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t think very highly of yourself even when you’re acting like God’s gift to mankind,” Simon adds with more accurate insight than Jace is comfortable with.

And now Jace really doesn’t know what to do with that.

“What are you, a philosopher now?” Jace mutters, still avoiding any sort of direct commentary on Simon’s way-too-close-to-home observation. “Go to sleep, Simon. I don’t need you too tired to focus on the road tomorrow.”

Simon looks like he’s going to argue but doesn’t in the end, leaving Jace alone with his thoughts in the newly settling silence of the hotel room.

It feels surprisingly pleasant to hear those affirmations from Simon, and Jace considers for the briefest moment what it’d be like to just be friends with Simon outside of their circumstances, to have these discussions and delve deeper into both of their pasts, humoring more of Simon’s personal questions and--

--and everything he can’t let this turn into over the next few weeks. Fuck.

Maybe there’s some harm in opening up after all.

---

They’re a little over halfway through the three-month tour when Jace realizes that perhaps his harmless crush on Simon is stronger than he realized. Jace watches from his usual spot in the corner as Simon signs CDs and sells band t-shirts and poses for photos, which is what he always does. But with every flirtatious laugh and every arm Simon drapes over someone’s shoulder or wraps around someone’s waist, Jace feels the desire to pull Simon away... and it isn’t because he’s in danger. It’s because Jace is jealous.

Jace grows sullen at the realization, arms crossed in front of him as he forces himself to watch Simon with his fans, because this is his job. The more he watches the more he doesn’t even think Simon realizes he’s doing it. Jace knows what active, intentional flirting looks like, but this is just Simon being his natural charming self, and Jace isn’t sure if that makes the whole thing better or worse.

Because it starts to dawn on him with a bit more meaning now that the way Simon’s been with him is the way Simon is with everyone. Jace just gets to experience it more often than everyone else right now. That doesn’t make their conversations special. It doesn’t make Jace anything special to Simon. And hell, maybe it’s just been a while since Jace spent this much time with someone else, too. Maybe he should work on writing off his own motivations as easily as he’s writing off Simon’s because his feelings are far from professional right now.

When the crowd disperses and Jace goes to help Simon wrap up his gear and load it back into the van (something that’s become routine for them, though not strictly in Jace’s list of expected duties) Jace is quieter than usual.

“Everything alright?” Simon asks, catching the shift in mood.

“Yeah. Fine,” Jace says curtly.

Simon doesn’t look like he believes him but doesn’t press the topic as they toss the last of the equipment into the van and head out.

---

The nicer Simon is toward him, the more closed-off Jace gets. He’s quiet during dinners Simon insists on paying for, stops sharing so much about himself when they do talk, and when Simon gives Jace a guitar pick he fashioned into a necklace for him Jace pockets it with a muttered ‘thanks’ without putting it on. He doesn’t have the heart to totally push Simon away, but he can’t keep growing closer to him knowing it’s all going to end in three weeks.

Jace wears the necklace every day but he keeps it tucked underneath his shirts where Simon can’t see.

Simon eventually stops trying to talk to him entirely, and they spend more and more time in uncomfortable silences. Sometimes Simon insists he needs privacy to work on his music and Jace sits at the end of the hallway of their hotel room listening to the faded sounds of Simon’s strumming.

There are three weeks left in Jace’s assignment when he gets the call that the police managed to track the letters to a girl back in New York: she’s in custody and getting a restraining order put against her, and Jace can come back as soon as he arranges transportation.

Jace hangs up the phone feeling surprisingly upset. This is great news for Simon, and he should be happy for him if nothing else, but that means this is the last night he’ll have to spend with Simon.

The last night he’ll get to spend with Simon.

“Hey Simon, good news. I just got a call from Luke and they tracked down your mystery stalker. You’ll get all the details once you’re back home but they’re already putting the restraining order into place, so you’re good to go.”

“What? That’s amazing!” Simon grins automatically, but it falls back into a frown just as quickly. “Does that mean you…?” his words trail off in question.

“I’ll be able to leave in the morning,” Jace confirms.

“Guess you’ll be happy to get out of here,” Simon says, his smile entirely gone.

“I do miss New York,” Jace carefully avoids the answer he knows Simon’s fishing for. The lie he should give, but can’t bring himself to.

Simon looks Jace up and down, his gaze finally resting on Jace’s face for a long couple of seconds, searching for something there before turning away without another word.

---

Jace knows he shouldn’t go to the show, but he does. He hangs in the back, a real drink in hand now that he’s no longer on duty, and listens to Simon sing the songs Jace knows by heart now. Jace knows from experience standing by the side of the stage that there’s no way Simon can make out any faces where Jace currently sits back by the bar. He plans on leaving before the end, before the lights come on and Simon knows he was there.

He’s a few drinks in when he hears Simon break his usual format.

“How does everyone feel about me trying out a new song I’ve been working on?” Simon asks. The crowd claps and cheers, and Jace shifts in his seat to fully face the stage. “This is a song about feeling a connection with someone, and not knowing when things went wrong, only that they did. And wondering if maybe it was all in your head the whole time...”

Jace feels his throat tighten at those words. He doesn’t have to be a genius to piece together the lyrics Simon starts to sing, fitting them to their lives the past few months, the hope of getting to know someone you’re starting to like, the confusion of being shut out, the uncertainty of wondering if they ever felt the same way you did or if they were just humoring you.

Jace knows Simon well enough to know that this isn’t a coincidence. It can’t be.

Against his better judgment, Jace stays. He stays until the set is over and the lights come on and Simon looks out around the crowd and makes direct eye contact with him.

Because fuck it. He’s leaving in the morning, and if this is all for nothing then he’ll never see Simon again and it won’t matter. But if he’s right…

Jace hangs back, watching Simon smile and laugh and sign CDs and take photos, acutely aware of every time the musician’s eyes wander over to where Jace lingers by the bar. Outside of the fading buzz from the alcohol it almost feels normal: hanging back after the show, watching Simon and waiting for him to make his way over once the crowd disperses. Hell, even the butterflies in Jace’s stomach aren’t new.

“You’re here,” Simon says when he finally makes his way over. “I didn’t think you’d come, since… I mean…”

“I heard your new song,” Jace forces the words out before he can change his mind. “I’d say I liked it, but that seems like the wrong response from the guy who made you think you did something wrong.”

“Not everything is about you,” Simon argues, but the intent falls flat beneath the nervous tremor the words are spoken with.

“No,” Jace agrees easily. “But that song is.”

Simon hesitates, then sighs. “It is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for not liking me, Jace. You were doing your job, that’s-”

“No. I’m sorry I was going to leave without telling you that I like you. I thought I’d leave and you’d never see me again, that it’d be pointless to get attached. I thought you were just… being nice. Because you’re a good person.” The words spill out of Jace before he can overthink them.

“You like me,” Simon repeats incredulously. “That totally makes sense with, you know, the way you completely stopped talking to me.”

Jace can hear the anger in Simon’s voice and winces slightly. Just because it’s entirely deserved doesn’t make it easier to hear.

“I figured it’d be easier to walk away once this was all over if we weren’t as friendly.” It’s still a shitty thing to have done, and Jace wouldn’t blame Simon for holding it against him. But after hearing that song he couldn’t walk away with Simon thinking it was over anything he did wrong. No matter the cost to Jace’s pride, Simon deserves that much. “And… maybe I was a little afraid that if I got much closer I’d want to cross a line I knew I couldn’t.”

“So you felt it too?” Simon’s words and expression are full of so much hope that Jace almost panics again. What if he isn’t half the person Simon thinks he is after getting to know him in this little bubble of theirs from the past few months? What if he messes this up?

...what if he doesn’t?

“I did,” Jace finally admits. “I still do. And I know I probably ruined any chance I had before, but if I haven’t fucked things up too badly, maybe once you’re back in New York we could meet up for coffee?”

Simon smiles, brighter than the house lights that fill the small venue now.

“Or… or you could stay with me for the last few shows? I wasn’t just being nice for the sake of being nice - I like you, Jace. I changed my hotel routine for you! I wouldn’t do that for just anyone. I don’t know if you have to go back right away for work, or something, but if you don’t I definitely wouldn’t mind the company. Your company.”

Jace considers it for a few long moments, then nods. It’s fitting, he thinks, to drop the formalities and the professional distance in the same setting he started to fall for Simon in. The same setting in which Simon started to fall for him, despite Jace’s best efforts to dissuade him, only this time with no excuses to hold him back. And if Simon’s willing to give him an actual shot after everything, he’d be a fool not to take it.

“Well, I can’t very well leave you to lug all your equipment around by yourself, can I?” Jace says, smiling. “Let me check back in with the office tomorrow morning but I don’t have anything scheduled. It shouldn’t be an issue.”

There’s a pause then, the air between them filled with an almost electric buzz of anticipation. Simon takes the first step closer, bridging the gap between them. There’s no questioning what Simon’s thinking when his eyes dart down to Jace’s lips and back up to meet his gaze again before speaking.

“Can I-”

Before Simon can finish, Jace’s lips are already on his in response. It’s slow and tentative, with each of them feeling the other out, but it’s nice. It’s really nice. When they pull away after a few moments Simon can’t keep the smile off his face. “That was even better than I imagined.”

Jace quirks an eyebrow, smirking fully now. “You imagined us kissing?”

“Shut up and help me load the van.”

The familiar banter and Simon’s easy smile are such an immediate comfort for Jace that he can’t help the light laugh he gives in response. As Simon looks back at Jace it’s with an expression so soft and full of kindness that Jace knows now isn’t the same look he reserves for everyone else.

Jace knows it’s a look reserved only for him this time - and with any luck, for many more times to come.

[pradadoie]

Lucas’s fourth OP - A full translation + Timeline

27th August 2021, 3:31 PM

A surfing instructor who allegedly taught him surfing writes a lengthy post defending him. (surf vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tt6Ut3IW_U0&t=320s ) 

Post translation:

I have always been a person who’s realistic, I’ve never lived in a daydream, and I definitely never put idols on a higher pedestal, everybody is equal to me in my eyes, it’s just the difference in professions after all, and everybody has the right to love somebody, after all, catching feelings is something we cannot control. Everybody has different shining points, setting aside personal feelings, if you want to give someone a present, go ahead, don’t rely on someone to like you, simply squander someone’s feelings, especially your fans, you are somebody who meant a lot to them.

When he was recording, I was his surfing instructor. After getting to know each other, he was a polite, animal loving, nature loving kid, his dream was to earn money and buy a house for his parents, afraid that he would get too tanned after surfing because his fans wouldn’t like it, and would constantly praise his teammate for their hard work during our casual conversations, and would show concern for the filming crew. He didn’t manage his personal feelings well, but his rising popularity involved his family (T/N: Unsure about this, please correct me if I’m wrong). Non-fans who didn’t know him back then when he appeared on shows eventually saw his effort on stage, the positivity he brings, the happiness he brings to the audience. As an idol, he did something morally wrong, but there are two sides to everything, and I hope he can do better work to make it up for the fans. 

All humans have different emotions, I also believe his feelings for you (fans) are sincere when he talks to you, everything good was real, so his feelings for others were sincere as well, love itself can be copy and pasted, it’s difficult to decipher personal lives, emotions are complicated in the first place.

I wish all girls will learn to protect themselves from destruction, don’t wish, don’t have high expectations, don’t hope and you won’t feel disappointed. If somebody hurts your (romantic) feelings , it’s not their fault, rather your heart daydreams too much. You all are brave and beautiful, but there is no right or wrong when it comes to feelings, and there is cure for the heartache caused, whatever you have now is the best, whatever separation that occurs paves the way for real love, and you have to believe in real love forever. 

Surfing instructor posts screenshots of her convo with HXX

First pic consists of back to forth voice messages and a surfing video

HXX: Yea it was like the vehicle we sat in the other day - I’m really happy, you appeared in my life and I matured. Thank you, let’s work hard together, so when we meet the future, we can have new and fresh experiences - that’s how we are supposed to live life HXX: Hehe I really found the right person

HXX: hahahaha 

27th August 2021, 11:50 PM

A girl who was allegedly another “girlfriend” of HXX speaks up after seeing the surfing instructors’ post. Turns out, HXX sent the same messages to her as well. 

Post translation: 

HXX, not only do you have a main account, it looks like you have an alternative account as well. Contacting and flirting with a surfing instructor you just met, just right after you met me - you seem to be really good at managing your busy time schedule. 

OP posts a video recording (https://m.weibo.cn/status/4674954271131677?) which contained the voice messages and the video (which he sent to the instructor)

First screenshot contained a voice message supposedly similar to the ones he sent to the instructor, followed by the same surfing video, with a photo of a white cat. 

HXX (Voice): (In canto) I really like it here, it would be great if you were here too

Second screenshot is the comparison. 

A compilation of OP’s replies:

OP: I still have a lot (T/n: more proof I’m assuming), I just don’t want to stir up more drama. 

(T/N: OP replied to a few people but it was difficult to find the comments, so I passed on it because it can easily be taken out of context)

OP: Don’t follow me, I’m just sharing the information and leaving. He’s already rotten enough as a person, but I cannot stand him continuing to treat his teammates horribly and giving them a hard time, nobody’s sincerity should be treated that way. 

User (Xiaoluyunbi): Fourth wife (nickname), may I know where the cat went? Did he give it to another fan?

OP: I’m not a fan (T/n: OP mentioned in one of the replies that she doesn’t follow boy groups and doesn’t involve herself in idol culture), I can’t answer that

User (luster__): People in the comments section, don’t make baseless claims, how is it possible that HXX gave OP the cat? Saying he’s too generous with OP, don’t praise her too much, didn’t you see WW gege’s cat fur photos?

OP: You’re right, he didn’t bring it back so his teammate is helping him to take care of the cat out of kindness, if no one buys it (the cat) it would be too sad, I’m grateful to his teammate. 

User (luster__): He didn’t even give her the cat, looks like she’s not his favorite

OP: Your gege told me I was his favorite, go on bubble and ask him yourself 

The white cat in question, dated back to July 2021

Cat fur on WW’s shirt: 

[allegedlyanandroid]

Pairing: Allen60 Prompt: Cold Types: Found Family, Fluff AU: Angels and Demons, Sixty as the little devil he is, and Allen just being human.

I am so late 😅 I wrote an entire thing before realising I hated every word of it and started over from scratch. Anyway... excuses aside, I hope you like it @yayen-chan <3 `(‾◡◝)´ 

“Okay, bookshelves first,” Allen mutters, following the intricate maze of arrows and concrete as he tries to navigate the local IKEA. “Or rugs. That works too,” he sighs when he glances up and finds himself in the wrong part of the store. Looking through the copious amounts of different rugs Allen rapidly finds himself overwhelmed. He tries reading a few of the ridiculously complicated names, stuttering over them when trying to read them out loud. “Ra- raskmol- mölle?”  

Giving up on the fifth time trying to pronounce it correctly Allen rolls the grey-and-black striped fabric up and tosses it on the cart, already dreading trying to find the rest of the items on his list. There’s only one really but when passing through the plant-section he stops to pick up a potted plant. The other one is beyond salvaging from lack of water. “Ilex, foreeneling? För-enlig. What are these names?”  

After another dead-end and some frustrated grumbling, he does find the bookshelf he needs. Honestly… this trip alone solidifies why he’s never getting a puppy. The one he took in to foster was a sweet thing but very demanding and unaware that he weighed quite a lot for a pup. He’d knocked Allen’s bookshelf over, thus breaking it, and also had an accident on his rug. If being petless meant never having to go here again then that’s a price he’s willing to pay. At least the shelter had found a family for him quickly and, while he did miss the little rascal, the puppy was undoubtedly in better hands.  

“Kallax, hemnes... gersby?”

Too caught up in his own head he doesn't notice the strange scent of warm brimstone and ash filtering through the air nor does he notice the young “man” standing behind him, a man who seemingly appeared out of thin air, until he hears the sound of a throat clearing. Allen jerks his head up from wrestling with the cardboard box and offers an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Or, you could tell me why I’m here and spare me the mundane small talk you humans seem so obnoxiously fond of.”

“I’m sorry?”

The man squints. “You summoned me.”

Allen pauses to take a good look at the man. He’s tall with black, artistically tousled hair and endless amounts of freckles. A few moles are scattered across his skin and his brown eyes are filled with irritation. Dark jeans with a long-sleeved shirt tucked into it, a black overcoat ending at about mid-thigh and a purple scarf hanging unknotted around his neck. Allen thinks long and hard yet finds no recollection of ever seeing this man before in his life let alone speaking to him. “I have no idea who you are.”

“You-” the man pinches the bridge of his nose, inhales deeply and slowly let it out before starting again. “You read the incantation to evoke me and you what… didn’t even realise it?” he asks and receives nothing but a blank stare from Allen in return. “Ugh, humans.”

In the blink of an eye the man transforms. Horns curve with the shape of his skull, producing from close to his temples, before ending in sharp tips that blend in with his raven hair. A black tail is wrapped around his leg which ends with a jagged spear-like point. The tips of his fingers look like they’ve been dipped in charcoal, fading into dark grey about halfway up his fingers, with claw-like black nails top it all off. They tap against the metal shelf next to them as the demon slowly advances.  

Too shocked to move, Allen’s jaw is taken in a firm grip and when the demon smiles his teeth are pointed blades. “So… are you going to tell me what it is you want?”

“You can let go of my face for a start,” Allen says, adding a quick “thank you,” when the demon does as he’s told. “What’s your name?”

“You may call me Sixty.”

“Sixty,” Allen repeats. “No offence but I quite like having my soul intact. I’m sorry for dragging you from… whatever circle of hell you reside in, but I’m not interested in making any sort of deal with you.”

“Sucks to be you then because I’m not leaving until you do,” Sixty says and from his tone of voice alone Allen knows he’s a hundred percent serious.  

‘Fucking IKEA.’

-

“Really? You couldn’t have chosen to live somewhere a bit warmer?” Sixty asks with disdain, thankfully back to looking human. His feet sink into the four inches worth of snow dusting the ground and he can already feel the cold seeping in through the gaps in his clothing. “Or somewhere nicer in general.”

“No one’s forcing you to stay.”

“No one’s forcing you to live here.” A pause. “Or if they are, I am more than willing to kill them for you free of charge.”  

Allen sighs.

-

Having a demon for a housemate isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Sixty mostly keeps to himself whenever he isn’t trying to get a rise out of him or complaining about the cold or putting things on tall shelves like the little shit he is. Until Sixty gets bored that is.

Because when Sixty gets bored trouble ensues.  

-

Emerging from his office after a long day of meetings to see his demonic housemate casually chatting with parts of his team in the breakroom is a bit out of left field and the sight of Sixty’s mischievous eyes boring into his own is enough to quicken his pace. “What are you doing here, Si- Silas?” he asks, forcing a smile on his face.

He hates how no one else can look past the innocent brown eyes and syrupy grin to see the smugness beneath. “I thought we were supposed to eat lunch together? Did you forget?”

“No, of course not,” Allen hastens to say, ignoring Willis and Clark’s knowing grins, as he wracks his brain for a response. “Though I distinctly remember asking you to wait outside.”

“It would have been rude of me to decline Julie’s offer of getting coffee,” Sixty replies and raises his mug as if to show it off.

“No need to be jealous, boss. We just wanted to get to know the guy better,” Julie says.

“Yeah, it’s not like we’ve ever seen you hang out with anyone outside of work apart from Reed,” Clark pipes up. “We got curious.”

“I’m not jealous!” Allen tries to defend himself, latching on to the word, but the agitated tone does nothing to help his case. Sixty smirking behind the rim of the coffee cup like a cat who got the cream isn’t helping to improve his mood either.

“You are the pettiest asshole I’ve ever had the unfortunate luck of meeting,” Allen says when they’re safely away from prying eyes.

Sixty snickers, knowing full well the amount of endless curiosity and ceaseless questions he’s unleashed on the human. “There’s an easy way to get rid of me.”

The fistful of snow he gets shoved in his face shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

By the time he manages to blink the melting snow out of his eyes Allen is too far away to retaliate, though that doesn’t stop Sixty from trying.  

-

Despite his best efforts Sixty’s irritation with being unceremoniously dragged into the mortal plane dissipates after the third week of staying with Allen. By the time he’s been there for a month and a half, Allen’s team have adopted him as one of their own and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered. They genuinely care about his well-being and often invite him along on outings. As someone whose family is… overbearing, their light-hearted ribbing is a nice change of pace. Their easy dynamic is the very opposite of stifling. No one ever pries when he declines to answer a question. No one touches him after he made it clear he dislikes physical contact. No one quizzes him about his every movement.

It’s… nice.

The next team building exercise and subsequent photo op, proudly displayed on the communal fridge, includes him and Sixty doesn’t cry even a little bit upon seeing that.  

Not at all.

-

In the end, the shift in their relationship is near seamless ‒ from reluctant roommates to friends to something more.  

What hits him first is the metallic scent of fresh blood and Sixty is halfway across the room before he can even process rising to his feet. He gathers Allen up in his arms and leads him to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. Part of his dark shirt is tacky with blood and Sixty feels no remorse when he shreds it to get it off as quickly as possible. Something, a bullet or knife, must have grazed his side. It’s bleeding sluggishly though it thankfully isn’t deep. Sixty takes the ruined shirt and presses it against the wound. “Keep putting pressure on it.”

Allen doesn’t answer and in the end he’s the one who has to move Allen’s hand to take over while he dashes to the bathroom for the medkit. Sixty plunks it down on the floor and fills a bowl of lukewarm water to put down beside it before fetching a clean towel. He kneels down between Allen’s legs and cleans meticulously around the area, noting the patches of skin where bruises are slowly forming. Swiping over the wound with antiseptic earns him a bitten-off hiss and Sixty puts a hand on Allen’s sternum to steady him after the first involuntary flinch.  

He keeps it there, soothed by feeling the steady thrum of Allen’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips, until he needs the use of both his hands. In its absence, Sixty’s tail comes up to wrap loosely around his thigh for comfort.  

Butterfly bandages instead of sutures, his tail instead of his hand. Allen doesn’t say a word about either choice though he is smiling down where they’re connected once Sixty chances a quick peek.

There’s nothing left for him to do after covering the wound with gauze, taping the edges down, yet Sixty finds himself lingering there regardless.  

It’s easy to trace around the gauze with the very tip of a claw and when he catches Allen’s dark eyes the urge to lean down to place a gentle kiss over it wins out. Allen sighs quietly and coaxes Sixty up to kiss him properly ‒ a chaste press of lips against lips followed by a sincere thank you.  

Sixty blushes and knocks his forehead against Allen’s, mindful of his horns, in a silent show of affection.

-

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“Because I literally stepped in the door a second ago?” Allen laughs and pulls Sixty in for a quick kiss.

“Excuses,” Sixty sniffs and steals another kiss, one that quickly devolves into a dozen pecks being pressed all over his face until Allen plants a last lingering one to his lips.

“I love you,” Allen says when they break apart for real.  

The shy smile spreading over Sixty’s lips is one he’ll never tire of seeing.

[waywardnerd67]

Starving Affection

Summary: It had been five years since (Y/N) had any physical contact with another person. When she starts talking with a man online who reads her fanfics, a battle of her  mind and body begins. When the time comes to meet him, she finds that there are still decent human beings in the world.  Characters: Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Sami (OFC), Plus Size!Reader Pairing: Jensen x Plus Size!Reader Warnings: Angst/Fluff/Smut/Body Image Distortion Word Count: 9256 A/N: Again, me working through my feels. Thank you for allowing me to do so.

My chest tightened. Jaw clenched until my teeth hurt. My body rigid and frozen as panic flowed through my veins. The overly friendly, new teacher had her arms outstretched towards me. If I had been a normal person, I would gladly hold my arms out as well embracing her kindness and affection.

I was not normal.

“Hey Katy!” My partner teacher and best friend, Sami, headed her off by stepping in front of me and taking the hit of affection.

There was a special place in Heaven for Sami and if not, I would fight God themselves to make it so. I could see Sami whispering to Katy and a nod of acknowledgement told me I would not have to worry about her advancements again.

“Sorry (Y/N), I didn’t know you weren’t a hugger. How about a high five?” Her sweet gesture had my trembling hand stretching out to her as she quickly slapped it with her own.

Only Sami could see my flinch from the physical touch of someone. Everyone else summed it up to my quirky personality and weird aversion to being touched. Thankfully our English department meeting was over and I could escape to the safe haven of my car. Sami was close behind me waving goodbye to everyone.

I bumped my shoulder to hers as she was the only one I had no problem with minor touching, “Thank you for taking that hug for me.”

She laughed, “You’re lucky I’m a friendly and huggy person. Hey, I meant to ask you before school today, but how is counseling going?”

I cringed, averting my gaze from her, “It’s… going fine.”

She stopped me with a tap on my shoulder, “The truth, please.”

I sighed as my shoulders slumped in defeat, “I stopped going,” I saw the incoming assault in her narrowing sky colored eyes.

“(Y/N)! You were making such good progress with this counselor. I was even able to give you a one arm hug.” The disappointment in her voice weighed my shoulders down even more.

I leaned against my car pulling on the sleeves of my hoodie, “I know, I know. She had me go to one of her support groups and everyone had to hug someone. I… I just couldn’t. I tried three or four times going to the group and I failed every time.”

My eyes fell to the ground, disgust filling my mind, “Yes, you really are as pathetic as you’re sounding.” My inner voice snarked.

I heard Sami sigh, “It’s okay. We can work through it together. We can keep doing everything you liked from her and work at your pace.”

Looking up, I forced my lips into a small smile to appease my only real life friend, “That sounds good. Thanks Sami for putting up with me.”

I made my way home to a small ranch style home that was off the beaten path. My grandparents had left it to me knowing I would love the seclusion of it. It was my Fortress of Solitude. The only living thing, other than Sami, to be able to snuggle with me was Charlie the cat. The copper Main Coon was sitting by the door awaiting my arrival.

My evenings were always the same. Check in with my mom for an hour on the phone. Make or order dinner, which tonight was ordering pizza for the leftovers tomorrow. Turning on my favorite TV show, Supernatural, on Netflix and working on one of my millions of fanfics.

“Yes, stay in complete denial by hiding in your fantasy worlds and falling in love with fictional characters. Loser.”

I pushed my inner thoughts to the very back of my mind and focused on my current series I was writing. Pulling up Tumblr, I looked in my notifications seeing someone binge reading my masterlist. My heart always swelled with joy whenever someone took the time to read my writings. This person was also leaving feedback as well.

“ChevyMan67: I love this version of Dean! You truly have captured his personality and sarcasm.”

“ChevyMan67: I can’t get enough of this series! Please tell me there is more to come. I need to know if Dean finally falls in love and gets his apple pie life.”

I read through every comment and looked at every GIF the reader posted. I hit follow on his blog then took a few screenshots from my activity page, pulling up a blank post adding the pictures.

“Thank you to @ChevyMan67 for binging my stories! Your feedback means everything to me!”

As soon as I posted it there was a notification of a reblog from him. He posted a GIF of Dean screaming with #Fangirling flashing underneath. My cheeks ached from the unusual tension of a genuine smile spreading across my face.

Online I could be anyone I wanted. I would virtual hug and blow kisses at my friends. I was able to be more like the woman I was. Social, happy, carefree, open to others. I could be the woman I desperately wanted to be but my mind would not allow.

“Stay guarded. Remember what happened when you trusted him? Trusted his family? Never again. You promised never again.”

My indeed guard held the line at the gate of my mind. She stood in full armor and shield ready to throw off anyone that even attempted to break through to the part of me that desired to be a whole person again. I shook my head with a firm nod and reaffirmed my promise to myself to never let anyone that close to me again.

As I was closing down her computer for the evening, a ding caught my attention as a message came from Tumblr. Opening the window, I saw a DM from my newest follower.

“Hey there, I just wanted to say thank you for following me. Apparently I’m a rarity on here for being male and a fan of Supernatural. I truly love all your writings and can’t wait to read more. Hopefully, we can get to know each other better and become friends. Anyway, I’ll leave you alone. Message me any time. Goodnight.”

I re-read the message several times before closing my computer. Sure I had people message me for small talk and a few close friends I had on there. This felt different. Something deep within me sparked and I did not know how to react. There was only one person I knew I could go to and her reaction was more frightening than the thought of responding to ChevyMan67. That night was the first of many restless nights for me.

A week later, I finally sat down and responded to him.

“Hey, I’m sorry it took me so long to respond. I’m… well, I’m not used to talking to guys here. I think it’s great that you’re on here and reading, BTW. I’m working on a few pieces right now, maybe you could beta for me if you have time. I hope we can be friends as well. Have a good weekend!”

I was nearly hyperventilating when I hit enter sending the message. I tried to work on my newest one shot story and ignore my anxious heart awaiting for the ding. It was not until I was in bed watching my favorite episode of Supernatural that my phone chimed.

“Tumblr: Message from ChevyMan67”

My finger hovered for a moment before opening the app. The message opened and I let out a air I had been holding in my chest.

“No worries. Everyone is busy and has their “real life” to attend too. I work odd hours and days all the time so I get it. I would LOVE to beta for you!!!! Reading your work before it’s posted online? HELL YEAH! I feel honored you asked and I’m fanboying hard right now. Crap… that sounded… I mean. Sorry lol. You can send your fics to ChevyMan67@gmail.com. Looking forward to hearing from you again.”

Over the next six months, Ross and I talked throughout our days getting to know one another. Three month into Tumblr messenger and dumb updates, he gave me his cell number to text one another. At times, I would have to catch myself from laughing while my students took a test. Everyone around me started to notice the small changes in me. Smiling more, talking more and one student commented on me wearing bright colors.

“You look good in yellow Miss (Y/L/N).”

However it was Sami who demanded to know all about the changes going on with me. We sat at our favorite restaurant, the first round of drinks being set in front of us. After the waiter took our order, Sami began her interrogation.

“Tell. Me. Everything. You’ve been keeping me at bay and I’ve respected your space, but you have seemingly blossomed in the last few months. Spill.”

I bit my lower lip as my phone sounded with an all to familiar chime. I went to grab my phone when Sami placed her hand over it, “Me first. Tumblr second.”

“It’s not Tumblr. Let me reply to him and then I will tell you everything.” I dared to look up to see my best friend’s face frozen in shock.

Her eyes wide and mouth gaping, “Him?!”

I nodded reading Ross’s message, “Hey I know you’re out with Sami and going to tell her about little ole me. I just wanted to make sure you were still thinking about what I asked last night. Can’t wait to hear from you soon. Not now though, have fun with Sami.”

I smiled, locking my phone and putting it in my purse looking back to my ridiculously happy friend, “His name is Ross.”

There was a loud, attention grabbing squeal from her as I shushed her, “Leave out no details…” she rested her perfect chin on her folded hands.

I told her all about Ross and how we began talking. I told her everything I knew about him and what he knew about me. Finally, as our food came out and drinks were refilled, I told her about what he had dropped on me the previous night.

“He asked me to meet him at the Supernatural Convention in Dallas next month. He already has the passes paid for and a few photo ops that we could share.” My heart raced at the thought of meeting Ross and meeting my favorite celebrities all at the same time.

Sami’s smile faded slightly, “Does he know about your struggles with being touched?”

I nodded, “It was one of the first personal things I told him. He’s still talking to me so I took that as a frightening good sign.”

“What are you feeling?” her point blank question shook me for a moment.

My fingers drummed against the table, “I’m nervous, scared, anxious…” I paused for a moment before looking up at her with a smile.

“I’m also excited, hopeful and curious.”

Sami held out her hands to me, palms up and I hesitantly placed my hands in hers. It was something we had been working on for the last couple of months. This was the first time I allowed her to squeeze my hands.

“You really like him.” She whispered smiling like a fool.

I felt my own smile mirroring hers, “Yes I do and that scares me shitless.”

The rest of the evening felt like the old days before my life fell apart. When I got home, I decided to test my luck. Pulling up Ross’s number, my thumb hovered over it until I smashed it hearing it ringing.

“Well hello, this is a surprise.” His velvety smooth voice sent shivers down my body, “Take a deep breath and know it’s okay if you hang up to just text me.”

“N-No, I’ll be okay.” I stammered as he let out a low chuckle.

I could hear him moving away from other voices around him, “I interrupted something…” Guilt and shame weighing my shoulders down.

“Not at all. They can wait, you calling me is an important moment. Not everyday, I get to speak to my favorite writer on the phone.” His compliments calmed my queasy stomach, “Could I be so hopeful that this phone call is working up to a good answer?”

I took a deep breath in and let out slowly, “Yes.” The word seems foregin to her as it left my lips.

“Yes I can be hopeful or yes to my question?” His jovial banter eased the tension in my shoulders.

“Yes.” I tried to sound a little more confident, my heart beating against my chest.

There was a moment of silence before loud cheering and yelling came through her speaker. His excitement was silenced by my own unfamiliar laughter. Suddenly I was hyper aware that he was no longer making any noises. Panic and fear swelling inside me.

A soft sigh came from him, “You have a beautiful laugh. I can’t wait to hear it again.”

My cheeks burned, “Thank you.”

Ross told me he would send all the details for our trip and that I was not to worry about money of any kind. Mentally, I began planning out how to save as much money as I could in the next four weeks. Thankfully, my savings was built up enough to take a small hit and not dip into her emergency fund. Over the next several weeks, I began to prepare for my first convention, first time meeting an online friend, first time traveling by myself, first time facing the unknown in five years.

The morning of my travel day, I went over to Sami’s house with Charlie. I was surprised to see her sister sitting there. She waved to me before taking Charlie’s crate.

“What’s going on?” I looked around seeing Sami’s suitcase packed by the door.

She smiled, “Your friend Ross, reached out to me.”

The color from my face drained for a moment, “H-He did… How?”

“He found me on your Instagram page. DM me asking me to join you on your trip. Stating and I quote, ‘I know you being there with (Y/N) will make her more comfortable. I want this weekend to go as comfortably as possible for her. I know it’s a big step and I want her to be taken care of.’”

She smiled softly as my vision blurred from tears slipping down my face, “Oh… wow.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty amazing (Y/N/N). If you were ever going to work on overcoming your touch aversion this would be the man to do it for.” Sami turned around to help her sister, leaving me to my own thoughts.

“Absolutely not! There is no way he is getting through my defenses. I have held strong for five years. Your heart and mind are safe within my holds.”

“Do you really think he’s going to want to touch you? Look at yourself. Lumpy. Chunky. Squishy. Dull (Y/C/H) hair. Boring (Y/C/E) eyes. Not even a decent pair of boobs or ass. You’re nothing special. Always remember that you’re nothing special.”

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) stop it.” Sami’s voice rang clear bringing me back to the present.

I nodded slowly, “Sorry. I zoned out.”

“Freaked out. We will work through it. Sara is gonna drive us to the airport and we have an hour to chat. Okay?”

It was in the moment that I noticed my best friend had absentmindedly placed her hand on my shoulder and I did not flinch. My eyes looked to her hand and back to her, “You’re touching my shoulder.”

“Crap, I’m so sor…” she started to say but my bright smile stopped her, “What?”

I placed my hand on top of hers, “I didn’t flinch or move or even notice you did it.”

Now her smile was matching mine and we had a moment of pure excitement jumping around each other. True to her word, we spent the hour on the plane doing some meditative exercises. I thanked every high power who would listen for my best friend getting her psychology degree.

There was a man waiting with our names on a piece of paper. He took our bags and drove us to a  hotel near where the convention was being held. Sami checked us in since there were so many people inside and my anxiety started to flare up.

Breathe in counting to six. Breathe out counting to six.

I repeated my breathing exercise until Sami returned her brow furrowed, “What is it?”

“I don’t know who Ross knows, but he must be connected in some way. We have a suite on the fourteenth floor.”

My jaw dropped slightly before I stood up bracing myself for the next hurdle of getting through the elevator ride. Luckily, there were only two other girls in the car and I could safely keep my distance from them.

“I heard that Jensen is staying at this hotel.” One mentioned as the other rolled her eyes.

“Yeah right. This is Dallas, I’m sure he’s probably staying with his family or something.”

The girls exit on the eighth floor and before the doors could close Sami and I were chuckling to ourselves. The chances of Jensen Ackles staying at this hotel would be astronomical. The car dinged for the top floor and opened to a small hallway. When we opened the door to our suite neither of us spoke.

Sami walked throughout the entire room before I could even move from the entryway, “This room is amazing! Check out the view we have (Y/N).”

“Hold on. Having a moment.” I breathed as Sami came to my side and I held my hand out, “I’m fine. Just need a moment to make sure this is real and not a dream.”

I watched as she walked over to the coffee table where there was a gift basket and she held up a small notecard, “Oh it’s real.”

“(Y/N) and Sami, I hope you love your room. Enjoy your night and order anything you want. The front desk knows it’s all on my tab. I’m hoping you both will join me for dinner tomorrow night after registration. Sadly, my job won’t let me leave before then. I look forward to meeting you both. -R PS: I highly recommend the spa and they have a large private jacuzzi just for you, (Y/N).”

Sami sighed, “I really hope he has a single brother, cousin, friend that is like him for me.”

I rolled my eyes walking over to the large windows looking out. Flashes of the last time I was in Dallas popping into my mind. I shivered as the one voice I hated yelled loudly in my ears. My hands covered them and I felt Sami tap my shoulder twice. For the first time, in several years, I reached out to her and gripped her arms.

“(Y/N) remember why we’re here. Remember talking with Ross on the phone. The tone of Ross’s voice. His laughter.” Her calm tone eased me out of the wretched memory.

She guided me over to the couch and went to get me a glass of water. I sipped it slowly before squeezing her hand, “Thank you.”

“You know, I can get used to you reaching out to me. Feels like the (Y/N) I knew coming back.” Sami squeezed my hand back before I let slip from her grasp.

She was right, the woman I once was before my ex was fighting her way to get out again. Still, my guard was up standing fortified at the gate.

That evening was a girls’ night of epic proportions. They went to the spa where (Y/N) sat in her private jacuzzi while Sami received the best massage of her life. Afterwards, we ordered our dinner from room service making moderate choices since neither of us were paying. When our food came there was a special dessert also with another note.

“A little birdy told me that your favorite dessert was French Silk pie. I wanted you to have a slice and some New York Style cheesecake for Sami. Have a wonderful night.”

Sami whistled, “Man, he has it bad for you.”

“Shut up.” I muttered lifting the dome to see a delicious slice of pie.

As they ate and talked, Sami took my phone taking pictures of them enjoying a very Sam and Dean style dinner. Sami having a Chef’s salad with honey mustard dressing. I took a picture of my dinner sending it to Ross with a text saying thank you.

“Dean would be proud! That bacon cheeseburger looks good. Enjoy!”

I smiled the entire time I ate my burger. Finishing out meals, Sami hooked up her laptop putting on Supernatural. I decided to try and work on some stories when a terrifying thought crossed my mind. I looked up to the screen as Dean began to talk. I closed my eyes listening carefully to his voice. The low tone and smoothness of it. It was the way he said the word writer that had my eyes snapping open and a gasp escaping my lips.

“What? What is it?” Sami sat up concerning filling her eyes.

Like pieces to a puzzle everything snapped into place. All the small details that would go unnoticed by someone who would never expect it. Sami tapped my shoulder and I turned to her with wide eyes.

“Ross… that’s Jensen’s middle name.” I mumbled reaching for my phone.

Sami stood up pausing the episode, “Okay… what are you getting at.”

“Listen.” I played for her the voicemail he had left a few days earlier, “Now play the episode.”

Sami’s eyes connected to her, “No way.”

“Ross is Jensen Ackles.”

That night my dreams were filled with my ex yelling at me. Fat shaming me. Calling me a loser. Calling me useless for not being able to bear children. His looming form made me coward into a ball on the floor. I woke up several times during the night, the final time close to six in the morning. Sami was peacefully sleeping on her side of the bed.

I picked up my phone going into the living area and dialing the all too familiar number. On the third ring she was going to hang up, but then his groggy voice pierced my ears.

“(Y/N), is everything alright?” All I could hear was Dean, which meant that it was truly Jensen on the other side.

“You tell me, Jensen.” I heard him sit up as I began to pace near the window.

A long sigh came from him, “I knew you would figure it out before meeting me.”

I scoffed, “Is this some kind of celebrity joke or prank? Pretend to be someone’s friend and embarrass them when they meet you.”

My guard was shaking her head muttering, “Told you so…”

“No, (Y/N) it’s nothing like that. Misha had read some of your stories and suggested I should read them. At first, I thought it would be weird because I’ve never read fanfiction before, but your writing… it drew me in.” His words came out all in one breath.

I froze, “M-Misha read my stories? Oh god…” My body burned from embarrassment.

“Honestly, there’s not a person on our crew that hasn’t read at least one of your stories. You’re talented and the way you write for the boys is amazing. Our own writer’s are impressed with your talent.”

I groaned slumping down to the floor, “This was all a mistake.” The last thing I heard before ending the call was rustling around as if Jensen was moving from his bed.

My phone slipped from my hand as tears streamed down my face. I closed my eyes allowing my inner voices to consume me. Dragging me down into the darkness.

“You fool! Here I stood guarding you from this and still you allowed someone in. You deserve what is coming to you!”

“You useless piece of nothing! You’re the biggest joke this world ever created. Fat, ugly, even your body can’t do the one basic thing god made it to do. You’re worthless. Sucking up air that could be used on someone contributing to the world. No matter what anyone says you will always be the biggest failure in this world. You. Are. Nothing.”

I felt someone tapping on my shoulder and I tightened myself into a ball, “Go away Sami.”

The tapping continued and I reached out grasping an unfamiliar hand. My eyes snapped open and were met with concerning, piercing olive eyes. The eyes I stared at for hours on my TV. The eyes I wrote about in hundreds of thousands of words online.

As soon as my eyes opened he withdrew his hand and my heart sank further into darkness, “I told you. He will never want to touch your disgusting body.” The snide voice of my inner self whispered.

“(Y/N), please hear me out. Please for five minutes just listen to my side.” He sat across from me leaving a foot of distance between us.

I nodded looking up as Sami gently touched his shoulder, “I will be just outside if you need me.”

He waited for the door to close to start talking. His large hands rubbing against his cotton covered thighs.

“I started reading your masterlist on Tumblr and couldn’t get enough of your stories. I didn’t know exactly how to work Tumblr so Misha showed me how. I noticed you don’t get a lot of notes and I wanted everyone to notice you. I started sharing your work with everyone after sending you that message.”

He paused for a moment as I fidget with the hem of my shirt, “Why did you message me?”

His smile was more radiant in person, “It’s just as I said. I loved your work and I wanted to be friends. However, the more I got to know you… the more I wanted to meet you in person. I knew that would be problematic.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” I scoffed looking down to my hands.

He inhaled a deep breath, “You connect with Dean Winchester the same way I do. To find someone like that is a once in a lifetime chance. I want someone who I can gush over Dean with because soon I won’t be hanging out with him as much and he’s the best imaginary friend I’ve ever had.”

Seeing Jensen open himself up to me was creating a battle of mind and body within me. He was just as nervous as I was to open up to someone else. Suddenly, I did not feel so alone in my isolation. My hand trembled as I reached over placing it atop of his.

“Dean Winchester saved my life and I don’t mean that figuratively. I was on the verge of leaping into darkness when I found him getting Sammy to find their dad. I found the strength to carry on because I knew that was what Dean would do. I found that being broken wasn’t a bad thing but something that could drive you to keep working. Dean helped me to feel again when I had become numb to the world around me.”

His eyes shined as I spoke trying to hold back his own tears, “I’m glad he could be there for you when you needed him the most.”

“Then you came into my life when I least expected it.” I whispered as I squeezed his hand.

My mind was screaming at me to get as far away from him as I possibly could. To call out to Sami to make him leave and move out of the state disappearing from the world. However, my body was urging me to jump into his arms. To open myself up to him as he had done with me. I felt like a spring coil ready to snap. My mind was holding my body back waiting for my consciousness to make a decision.

And she did.

I launched myself into his arms startling him as we crashed to the floor. His arms instinctively wrapped around me as mine encircled his neck. The door flew open as Sami came rushing in as Jensen’s laughter filled the room. I hugged him tighter to me as he tightened his grip around me.

“Oh my god… (Y/N), you’re hugging him.”

I did not need to open my eyes to know tears were slipping down my best friend’s cheeks. Her voice was thick with utter joy and amazement.

“Does this hug mean that you don’t hate me?” His question caught me off guard.

Jensen’s hands kept me in place as he sat up swinging my legs across his. My arms are still around his neck not wanting to lose the connection. Now that my body was against his, it flooded with the strange feeling of desire. Sami joined them on the floor sitting cross legged in front of them.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you. Though I’m still upset you lied to me.” I rested my head on my arm and against the side of his neck.

Feeling him sigh and seeing Sami grinning, I knew this was a big moment for all of us. We sat on the floor for another hour talking before Jensen had to go back to his room to get ready for the day. Neither of us wanted to let go of the other. He hugged me one last time before walking out of the suite. When I turned around I was immediately engulfed into another hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” Sami squealed.

“Thanks, I think…” My sentence drifted and she pulled away from me.

I walked back toward the bed and flopped face first onto it. I felt her crawl up on the bed beside me knowing me well enough to give me space.

“Talk it out, (Y/N). What are you feeling?”

My cheeks burned from the first feeling to pop into my head, “I feel warm, anxious, happy...” I paused gathering the courage to say the last word, “desire.”

“I’m sorry, what was that last one?” Sami eagerly asked.

I sat up, “Desire.” Saying the very word felt weird.

She began to clap and raised her hands in the air, “Praise the lord!”

“Don’t get all weird about it. I don’t know what any of this means. My body is tingling…”

Sami interrupted, “I bet it does…”

“Shut up, mostly not in that way. I don’t know how to act around other people anymore. What is too much touching? What is too little? What does a hug mean? I have too many questions and all the answers just walked out the door.”

I looked over as my phone chimed seeing a message from Ross, “I guess I need to change that now.” I murmured as I pulled up his message.

“First, thank you for trusting me with a hug. It means the world to me. I wanted to know if you wanted to have an early lunch with me? We could eat in my room or restaurant or your room with Sami. Whatever you are most comfortable with. Let me know.”

I held my phone up for Sami to read and she jumped off the bed, “You can have our room. I will go entertain myself by the pool.”

I texted him back that he could come to my room as Sami began tossing clothes out on the bed, “What are you doing?”

“Finding you the perfect outfit. Now go shower so I can play dress up with you.” She clapped her hands excitedly as I groaned loudly.

Looking in the mirror again, I pulled at the shirt clingy to every soft, round surface of my waist. I pushed my stomach watching as it bounced back into place like jello. Turning to the side, I sucked as many rolls as I could inward, holding my breath. The air rushed from my lips as a knock came from the door. Making my way towards it, I grabbed my zip-up hoodie slipping my arms in it quickly.

“Hi.” The word came out more breathlessly than I wanted.

My inner voice whispering, “Yeah fatty, let him know that walking across the room makes you lose your breath.”

“Hey there, I hope you don’t mind that I went ahead and grabbed lunch for us.” Jensen held up a paper bag from a local sandwich spot.

As he walked in, I took a moment to truly admire him. He looked like a male model in his tight dark jeans, black boots, dark olive Henley and sunglasses resting on top of his unruly, sandy brown hair. His smooth voice caught my attention.

“You could take a picture and it would last longer.” He chuckled sitting down on the couch and laying out their lunch.

I sat on the opposite side of him as far away as I could. Even though my body desperately wanted to be closer to him, I kept my distance not pushing my mental capacity. He glanced over a hint of disappointment in his eyes seeing me so far away.

Jensen slid a sandwich towards me, “I remember you telling me that you love ham and swiss with tomato.”

“Thank you.” I unwrapped the sandwich and grabbed a bag of chips.

We ate in silence as a strange tension built between us. My stomach churning to the point I could no longer eat. I would look over to him out of the corner of my eye to find his eyes drifting over me. I wrapped my hoodie around me instinctively trying to hide the imperfections.

“There’s no hoodie big enough to hide your ugliness.” The familiar voice whispered.

I shook my head when I heard music playing, looking back to Jensen. He smiled sheepishly as he set his phone on the table.

“I thought maybe some background noise would help,” He stood up clearing the food from the table then stood in front of me with his hand out, “Trust me?”

His eyes were shining from the afternoon rays of sun coming from the window and his lips were spread in a gentle smile. I exhaled slowly allowing all the tension to leave my body and placed my hand in his. He pulled me up from the couch taking my hands and placing them behind his neck. His large hands slid down my sides to my hips and I flinched.

“You do know that you’re beautiful, right?” He whispered swaying my body with the music.

I shook my head, “I’m really not. Ordinary at best.”

Jensen lifted my chin, piercing (Y/C/E) meeting , “You are far from ordinary, (Y/N).”

“You’re just being kind.” I looked away as he slowly turned us in a circle.

The music continued but Jensen stopped moving, “I have so many questions but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or have you running to the hills.”

“Questions for me? Surely, you have better things to do with your time other than sitting inside with me. Don’t you have fans to entertain?” I smirked.

He chuckled, “Lucky for you, I happen to have the day off. I normally spend the day with my family. However this year they all ditched me.”

I mockingly acted shocked, “Oh no! You poor thing.”

His eyes narrowed in on me before laughing, “My mom and dad are somewhere in Spain enjoying their anniversary gift. My sister decided a girls trip with her best friends was better than hanging with me for the day. My brother is always busy with his family. You’re stuck with me.”

“I guess there’s worse ways to spend my day. Okay, ask away but I’m not promising I’ll answer them all.”

Jensen led me back to the couch, but kept ahold of my hand as we sat back down. He laced his long fingers with mine. His thumb brushing over my knuckle. I settled back against the couch once again wrapping my hoodie around me.

“What were you thinking when I put my hands on your hips earlier?”

I bit my lower lip, “I was mortified that you were touching my squish rolls of skin. I was thinking you must be disgusted by it.”

“Wow…” He squeezed my hand, “Whoever he was he really did a number on you. If I ask his name and address would you be against me and Jared beating the crap out of him?”

A genuine burst of laughter echoed in the room, “He’s really not worth it. Plus, he is much happier with his life now and that’s all that matters. He deserves to be happy.”

I was surprised to see Jensen face scrunched up in anger, “But you don’t?” He leaned in slightly, his features softening.

“No, I don’t.” The words came out without even a second thought and seeing Jensen recoil from them as if they had slapped him in the face twisted my heart.

His tongue darted out over his lips and the electrical energy between us sparked wildly, “You’re wrong. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Any man who told you otherwise is no man at all.”

He was leaning in closer, his eyes never leaving mine. My heart pounding in my ears and my body urging me to meet him in the middle. His forehead pressed against mine and his nose caressed mine.

“I’m going to kiss you.” he whispered.

“I don’t think I remember how to kiss back.” The pathetic confession was followed by a wayward tear slipping down my cheek.

His soft, full lips pressed gently against mine. My mind searched for the file within the long abandoned cabinets for how to kiss someone. He pulled away for a split second only to return his lips to mine. I found my lips pushing against his out of basic instinct. Our lips melded together for a moment before I felt him smile against mine.

His hands cupping my face, “I think it will all come back to you easier than you may think.”

I took in a deep breath letting it out in a short burst, “I think you believe in me too much for only meeting me a few hours ago.”

Jensen was still holding my face as he leaned back, “Other than Jared and Mish, I have never felt closer to anyone, but you.”

“You have your work cut out for you then,” I pointed to my head, “because it’s a nightmarish mess up in here.”

He leaned in kissing me once again, “You are worth every second of being with you because you’re stunning, smart, talented, caring and most of all you’re beautiful inside and out.”

I stared up at him speechless as my inner guard laid down her shield, “I like this one.”

“No… no one has ever said that about me. I-I don’t know what to say or how to react.” I stammered, unable to comprehend what he said.

He smiled widely, “Get used to that feeling because I’m preparing for you to feel that way a lot. Now, I don’t want to test your boundaries too much so I think we should hang out here and watch a movie.”

Jensen moved to the end of the couch resting his arm along the back of it and propping his feet on the table. For the first time in forever, there were no inner voices to keep me from doing what I desperately wanted. I moved over next to him resting my back into his side and stretching my legs out to the other end of the couch. His arm draped over the front of my chest and his fingertips brushed against my side.

This time there was no flinching and I smiled at the small victory.

The rest of the weekend was like a dream. Seeing the convention backstage, meeting all the rest of the other actors on the show and most of all Jensen’s constant touch comforted me throughout it all. Sami beaming with pride as I pushed myself to be in the crowd for the concert on Saturday. When Sunday came, I found myself riddled with sadness knowing I would have to leave this magical weekend behind.

Sami had decided to go back to the hotel while I waited for Jensen to finish his autographs. I had noticed Clif, the boys’ friend and bodyguard, staying close by me. When the last fan left the autograph room, he motioned for me to follow him. Entering the room, I found Jensen with his head down on his table while Jared and Misha were fooling around at theirs.

Walking up, I slid my hands over his shoulders and began rubbing the knots out of them. A small groan escaping his lips sent a wave of desire over my body. I moved my hands down his back eagerly wanting to hear him again.

“Hey, if you’re giving free massages away I’ll take one!” Jared called out.

Jensen’s head snapped up, “Don’t even think about it Padalecki. Her hands are too precious for your sweaty self.”

I chuckled as he stood up letting my hands drift down his back. I knew he was fit but his body was firm and lean in all the right spots. As he moved away I found my fingers stretching out to touch him again. All weekend I had found myself craving his touch. My mind was obsessively thinking about his hand in mine or my arms around his waist or his hands gripping my hips. My cheeks felt like they were on fire and I heard him chuckle.

“You okay? You kind of spaced out for a moment.”

I nodded smiling, “I’m great. Just thinking was all.”

“Well come on, you and I can grab something to eat then hang out in my room.” His arm slipped around my shoulders and instantly I relaxed into his embrace.

Dinner was unexpectedly crashed by Jared and Misha tagging along. We found a twenty-four hours diner near the hotel that was nearly empty and we all spent a few hours talking, laughing. I could not help the sadness creeping over me as the minutes passed by. Minutes I was losing to have Jensen to myself. As if he read my mind he excused us to head back to the hotel.

We walked in silence, hand in hand. Stepping into the elevator, he pulled me into his side and I wrapped my arms around his waist. His room was on the opposite end of the same hall as mine. Stepping inside, the door clicking shut as we stood across from one another. It was like a shotgun going off as Jensen closed the distance between us. His hands sliding down my body as his mouth crashed to mine.

As suddenly as it happened, it was over.

“I’m sorry… shit. (Y/N) I’m really sorry.” His pleads confused me for a moment.

Breathing heavily as he stepped back further from me I blurted out, “W-Why are you apologizing? D-Did I do something wrong?”

His dark forest eyes snapped up, “You do something… you didn’t do anything but be you, (Y/N). I just couldn’t stop myself. This weekend has been the best one in my life. Being around you, holding your hand, kissing you has rejuvenated me. I just want more of you, all of you. Simple looks you give, the way you hold yourself and the moment you open yourself up to reach out to me. I just found myself unable to hold back anymore. I know…”

This time it was me who closed the distance between us. My lips crashing into his. My hands running up his broad chest and into his soft hair. The soft moan escaping my lips as we parted.

“I want you to have me…” I whispered in between breaths, “I’m nervous with a bunch of what ifs running in my head.”

“Do you trust me?” The corner of his lip curling upward.

“Yes.”

Jensen took my hand leading me into the bedroom of his suite. He gently picked me up and sat me on the bed. He knelt in front of me, slipping my shoes from my feet then pulling my socks off. His thumbs pressing into the bottom of my feet as I began to giggle.

“Oh… now that is an amazing sound. I must hear that again.” He smirked, tickling my feet.

I fell back in a fit of giggles as Jensen’s laughter joined mine. I leaned up on my elbows looking down at Jensen resting his chin on my knee. He lifted his brows asking permission and I nodded. His hands drifted over my calves, up to my knees and over my thighs.

“You have incredible legs. I found myself staring at them as you would walk in front of me with Sami. Wondering how they would feel beneath my hands.” He gently squeezed them near my hips.

His knee pressed into the mattress between my legs as his firm body hovered over mine. My fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt pushing it up and hesitantly touching his stomach. Jensen sucked in a quick breath as his hands paused on his hips. I focused on the feeling of his smooth, warm skin beneath my fingertips. His flat stomach is surprisingly soft.  

I grasped the end of his shirt pulling it towards his head as he pulled back allowing it over his head. Taking it from my hands, he tossed it on the floor. I took in every inch of his skin from his muscles flexing to the freckles decorating it.

“You beautiful, you know that?” I did not think he heard me until I saw the smug smirk on his face.

He leaned down kissing me, “Stealing my lines, sweetheart.”

His hands went back to my hips as his lips left a trail of kisses down my neck, “You think that your softness is revolting, but I find it inviting.”

I froze as his hand pushed up into my shirt touching my stomach. I squirmed as he pushed my shirt up just under my bra. My hands threading through his hair as his lips pressed small kisses against my stomach.

“Jensen…” The tension in my tone caught his attention.

His eyes filled with worry, “Too much?”

I took a few deep breaths and shook my head, “I’m fine, promise.”

“See there you go, being brave and pushing yourself. You have no idea how sexy that is.” He murmured against my skin.

As Jensen’s mouth neared the waistband of my jeans, I tugged his hair motioning for him to come back up to her. He smiled randomly kissing spots along my body. His lips finally met mine as I slid my arms around him. His tongue swiped across my bottom lip as they parted for him. His gentleness and care to make me comfortable broke down the last existing wall of defense.

Their kiss deepened. My body burned with a need to feel Jensen’s skin against mine and to be close to him in every way physically possible. Foreign pressure began to simmer deep within me and I lifted my hips pressing them against his thigh.

He pulled away his eyes blown with passion searching mine for an answer to a silent question.

“Please… take away everything he did. I want to feel whole again.” I pleaded just above a whisper.

His lips were on mine again as he gently lifted me up further onto his bed. Sitting up, I pulled my shirt over my head holding it in front of me for a brief moment. His eyes watching my every move as I tossed it over the side. He reached behind me with one hand unclasping my bra in one swift movement.

I kissed his collarbone as he leaned in to do so, “Show off.”

He chuckled before leaning back and allowing me at my pace to unveiling my bare chest to him. I slid the straps down my arms holding it in place before playfully tossing it at him chuckling. Joking had always been my way of dealing with uncomfortable moments. When I looked up his eyes were drifting down my bare upper body.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He smirked as I rolled my eyes at him, “Seriously, (Y/N)... you’re absolutely stunning.”

He ran his hand down my chest, between my breasts and down to my jeans. He undid the button and slowly drew down the zipper. Hooking his fingers with a belt loops dragging my jeans down my legs. I shivered as the cool air hit my skin. Jensen tossed them off to the side then began to place gentle, open mouth kisses up my leg.

My breaths were coming out in small little puffs the further up my leg he got. His mouth hovered over her cotton cover mound inching closer to it. My teeth dug into my lip desperately wanting him to press them against me. Instead he kept his path up my body stopping at my breasts. He cupped the side of one running his thumb over my nipple.

A long sigh escaping my lips from just the slightest touch from him, “O-Oh… Jensen…” His mouth had gently suckled my other nipple, the pressure turning to an ache between my legs.

“You have no idea hearing my name from your lips does to me.” He softly said before circling my nipple with his tongue.

Feeling bold, I slid my hand down between us running it along the hard bulge being restrained by denim. Jensen sucked in a sharp breath dropping his head between my breasts, “Shit…”

“I believe I have some kind of an idea.” I smiled as he grinded himself against my palm.

He stood up at the edge of the bed, his intense stare making me tremble with anticipation. Leaning forward, his fingers hooked the sides of her cotton panties and pulled them down until they were on the floor.

“Exquisite, flawless, perfect.”

“As are you.” I sat up until I was sitting on the edge in front of him.

My hands trembled as I unbuttoned his jeans and carefully unzipped them. Jensen let out a soft hiss as I brushed against his length. His hands cupped my face pulling my lips to his urgently kissing me. I pushed his jeans and boxers down as far as I could before he pushed me back onto the mattress. His hand drifting down my body until his fingers pressed against my folds.

“Jensen, please…” I begged needing to feel any kind of relief from the pressure pulsating from between my legs, “Ohhh… god.”

Jensen began to rub lazy circles against my clit. My hips grinding against his hand as his lips pressed just below my ear, “Are you okay?”

His question sober me from the drunken stupor of desire and I placed my hand over his pushing down further, “More than okay.”

Jensen pushed one long finger deep inside me with a hiss, “Fuck pretty girl, your so tight.” He slowly pushed a second finger inside.

My head pressed against the mattress, my back arching as he pumped his thick fingers in me, “More, oh please Jensen, I need more.”

His pace picked up and I looked up to his face. His eyes wide and dark watching me come undone as his thumb rubbed harshly against my throbbing clit, “Jensen!” I cried out overwhelming pleasure wrecked through my body.

Breathing heavily, my body shaking slightly as he pulled his fingers from me, “Now that was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

A slow grin spread across my face as I pulled his mouth to mine. He positioned himself between my legs pulling away slightly, his lips grazing against mine.  

“Are you sure? We can stop if you want.” Jensen’s tone was tense as I felt his length resting against my folds.

I kissed him, “I need you. All of you.”

He braced himself up with one arm as his hand slipped between us. Jensen ran the swollen head along my slickness before nudging it against my entrance. The room filled with groans and heavy breaths as Jensen slowly sheathed himself within me. There was a singe of pain as I stretched taking him his thick length but quickly was replaced with immense pleasure as he thrusted gently into me.

“So. Tight.” He panted against my cheek.

I wrapped my arms and legs around him digging my heels into him. Each stroke pushing me further to the edge. Feeling every muscle straining along his back and arms. His head buried in the crook of my neck grunting almost painfully. I knew then he was holding back.

I pressed my lips to his ear, “Jensen, I won’t break. You’re making me feel incredible, but I want you to let go. Show me how I make you feel.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest as he nipped at my neck and his hips snapped against me. The echoes of our skin meeting, loving praises and the headboard against the wall filled the room. I started to meet each thrust of his, the coil within me ready to snap. His hands were gripping my shoulders holding me against his burning body. I clung to him scraping my nails against his back making him growl again.

“Shit Jensen, I’m so close. Just a little more, oh god please!” I beg as he thrusted into me feverishly small grunts coming from him, “Yes, yes, oh… Jensen!”

My whole body was shaking as an intense wave of euphoria covered me. Pulsating around him, he abandoned all control chasing his own release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He gritted his teeth as his body went rigid before slamming into me his length twitching deep within me, “Holy shit…”

Jensen rode out his release, his arms shaking to the point he could not hold himself up anymore. I groaned as he pulled out leaving me empty. He rolled onto his back breathing heavily as I curled into his side burying my head into his chest.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” His concern only made me cling to him more.

I shook my head, “No, I’m just overwhelmed. Too many feelings at once.”

“Talk it out. Tell me what you’re feeling.” Jensen wrapped his arms around me holding me close.

I took a deep breath, “I’m feeling exhilaration, bliss, pleasure. Right now, I’m feeling empty and it’s almost like I can’t breath. I feel scared by how much I need to feel your touch.”

His fingers were drawing small circles against my bare back, “If that’s your way of asking for round two, you’re going to have to wait for a little bit. I haven’t come like that since I was a teenager.”

There was a brief moment of silence before I started to laugh. My body shaking from the laughter pouring from my lips. I kissed his chest, “Thank you.”

“You never need to thank me. It’s my honor to make you laugh. Bring your pleasure. Praise you for your beautifulness. More importantly, always holding you close to me.”

I entwined my legs with his as he pulled the sheet over our naked bodies. Just when I thought he was about to fall asleep, I slipped my hand over his soft member then pressed my lips just under his chin.

“Round two?”

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[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I Could Be Your Sometimes Part Six

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only Notes: Set before the series; not beta-read Thank you to everyone that’s liked and read this!! Warnings: Eventual infidelity and sexual content. If you dislike this, please don’t read. Thank you. Chapter-specific warnings: None Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader Summary: Why did that name sound familiar?

"Jesus christ, you look fine,” Nora rolled her eyes as I did a small spin for the camera. “Are you sure?” I asked, taking a step back to make sure Nora could see the entire outfit over FaceTime. it was the third suit I’d tried on, and I was no closer to deciding what I was going to wear. “Hon, I love you, and I know you want to look professional, but you’re driving me crazy. Besides, I’ve never seen you look unprofessional,” Nora added, resting her chin on her hand, “My vote still goes for for the grey suit. I mean the one you have on now is a good look, but the waistcoat might be pushing it, ya know?” I looked down at said waistcoat, tugging at the bottom of it. “I guess,” I grumbled. Nora rolled her eyes. “Just-- Don’t be so worried about it, kid. Go over your notes a couple of times if it’ll make you feel better, but besides that, relax, okay?” "Alright. See you in the morning, Nor,” I smiled. “Night, worry-wart,” Nora stuck her tongue out at me before hanging up the call.

I turned away from my phone to look myself over in the full-length mirror in my room. Nora was right, the waistcoat was definitely just a touch too much.

-- I arrived at the DA’s office at 9 - the talk wasn’t set until 10:30, but I preferred to get an unfamiliar conference room early, get a better feel for the space, go over my notes, even if it meant making small talk for a few minutes beforehand. I knew that Nora would arrive soon enough, it would be fine. Nora had made the right call - I was wearing a light grey pantsuit, as well as a white button down. I’d decided to chance it with a cup of coffee, but I hadn’t spilled a drop (yet - I always dropped a ‘yet’ on the end of that statement. With me, there was always a chance).

The receptionist that had shown to the conference room had reassured me that there wasn’t any other conference booked for the space, so I wouldn’t have to worry about needing to find somewhere else to go over my notes. I set myself up at the end of a conference table, close to the screen. “Oh-- I hope I’m not interrupting.” I looked up to see a man standing in the doorway. I glanced at my watch. 9:40 - still plenty of time. “No, not interrupting at all,” I flashed him a smile. He came into the room, letting the door close behind himself. “Here for the seminar?” He asked. “Yes, I’m actually running it. I’m from Tactician,” I said. The man’s brows rose, and he came closer, holding his hand out to me. “Neal Loguidice,” He introduced himself. Why did that name sound familiar? “Hi,” I greeted, shaking his hand. “May I?” He asked, gesturing to the seat beside mine. 29 other seats in that conference room and he wanted to sit in the one directly beside mine. “You’re just trying to see all my notes in advance,” I teased before nodding to the seat and adding, “Go right ahead.” Even if I wanted to tell him that he had plenty of other seats to pick from, I definitely couldn’t. I lowered myself back into my seat, pulling my chair in to give Neal room to slide in behind me. He settled in beside me, opening his laptop and notebook. We worked in amiable silence for a few minutes before he spoke up again: “Andy said that your firm was instrumental in his defense for the Warren case.” Apparently he’d mentioned that to a reporter, too, and Nora had been called for a comment. It had started a wave of requests for information regarding our trainings. “Yeah, I cut back on that section of the presentation for you guys because I figured you’ve had to hear a lot about it lately,” I said. Neal chuckled, shifting in his seat to look at me. “Well, I appreciate that,” He smiled. I returned the smile. He was... Cute. He had dark, warm eyes; his neatly-coiffed hair seemed a little at odds with his five o’clock shadow. Neal and I got talking - about work, about Newton, about his case load and how many requests for proposals I’d taken on the last month. “You’re here early.” My attention was drawn away by Andy coming through the door. He had a cup of coffee in one hand, his laptop tucked under his arm. His eyes darted from me to Neal, and his smile wilted to something a little less hospitable. I glanced at the time. “I mean, we do start in fifteen minutes,” I pointed out, “Being late would be a pretty bad look, Barber.” Andy set his things down at the seat across from mine, glancing between me and Neal. “I don’t think I’ve ever been into Harvey’s,” Neal said, continuing the conversation we’d been having. I turned to look at him again. “They’re not too far from here, over on Cedar and Sixth? Food’s not too salty, and they’re open pretty late.” “You would know,” Andy muttered just loudly enough for us to hear. I looked up at the ceiling, refusing to look at Andy. When I looked at Neal again, I found his brows raised, curious. I shook my head a little bit. "My late-night go to is usually Chinese food. There’s a place around the corner  from here that’s got some of the best dumplings I’ve ever had,” Neal went on. "I love dumplings! Why are we talking about them?” Nora asked coming into the conference room, a cup of coffee in hand. She caught sight of Andy, smiling. “Morning, Mr. Barber.” “Morning, Ms. Abrahms.” Nora beckoned me toward her, and I excused myself. “You look settled in,” She commented. “Well, I’ve been here for almost an hour and a half, so,” I commented, tucking my hands into my pockets. “And your shirt is coffee-free. I’m incredibly impressed,” Nora teased. I leaned against the wall, shrugging. “For now. My shirt’s coffee free for now.” Nora grinned, shaking her head. “Your pitch skills are incredible but your hands would be less shaky if you drank less coffee.” “My pitch skills wouldn’t be as incredible if I drank less coffee. Keep up, Nora,” I teased. I peered around her, waving people in as they began to trickle into the room. -- “That was excellent,” Lynn was pumping my hand with politician-like photo-op efficiency; I was vaguely aware of their PR person taking a picture of us, and Nora muscling in beside them to get one for herself. “We appreciate the opportunity to come and work with you guys,” I smiled. Lynn patted my shoulder before dropping my hand and excusing herself. Half of the attendants had already filed out of the room. I stepped back over to my laptop, closing it and beginning to pack my things away. "Well, that was informative," Neal said; he had yet to get up from his seat.

"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment, Mr. Loguidice," I glanced at him. He chuckled, nodding. "It was certainly meant as one. And please, it's Neal," He said, standing and drawing himself up to his full height. "Well, then, thank you," I chuckled, pulling my coat on. "Back to the office?" He asked. I nodded. "I have work to do." "No time to stop for another cup of coffee or... Or lunch, maybe?" Neal asked, gathering his laptop and notebook before he turned to look at me. I arched a brow, shifting my bag on my shoulder. "Something from the seminar that I didn't explain clearly enough?" I asked. Neal smiled a little. "If that'll get you to say yes," He nodded. "Ready to go?" I turned to see Nora standing with her things, Andy close behind. "Andy has offered to take us out to lunch at Harvey's," She added. I shot Andy a glance before turning back to Neal, tipping my head to the side. "I've been meaning to try Harvey's," Neal said simply, hand brushing over my shoulders as he stepped past me, "I'll grab my coat." Nora and I turned to watch Neal leave the room; neither of us missed the split-second narrowing of Andy’s eyes as Neal passed him. -- Lunch was incredibly awkward - at least, I wasn't sure how it could've been worse. Andy and I had taken the seats across from one another by the window, and Neal had slid in beside me before Nora had the chance. Nora had mostly been able to keep the conversation moving throughout. But when there had been the odd... Lull, let's say, I could see Neal and Andy almost sizing each other up. As soon as we'd sat down, Andy had done as he had a few weeks ago, hooked his foot around my ankle and kept that contact up. Neal had pressed in close on my side, thigh pressed against mine, arm nudging me now and again to draw my attention - usually away from whatever Andy was saying. When he’d done that, Andy’s leg would brush against mine, reminding me of our anchoring where the others couldn’t see. I didn't know what their game of cat and mouse was, but I didn't think I liked being part of it. -- (8:39 PM) AB: Busy? I glanced at the text on my phone and rolled my eyes. Of course I was busy. I'd lost three hours of my day to giving that seminar at his job. (8:42) Yep (8:45) AB: Hungry? 

(8:45) Nope

(8:46) AB: Need some company? I hesitated in answering that one, typing out a few different answers and deleting them all. I finally settled on sending, (8:52) I think you meant to send that one to your wife.

--

For all of the efforts I had made to put distance between myself and Andy both physically and emotionally, my attraction to him hadn’t budged. If anything, it had gotten worse. My stupid brain had gone beyond obsessing over the details of our conversations - I had dreams about the guy. They weren’t odd ones, either, where there’s some whacky circumstance and you just happened to notice him in the background. They usually had to do with touching him, kissing him, being in less-than-innocent and incredibly compromising positions with him. I’d out a cap on fantasizing about him in my free time, but apparently my subconscious hadn’t gotten the memo. It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and that Andy was incredibly attractive, and still talking to me, despite the fact that my recent texts and had been snippy or flat. But maybe it was the fact that when we were together, we did touch. I thought about our hug when we’d gone to dinner weeks before, and his foot hooked around my ankle, holding my attention in a way neither Nora nor Neal knew about. I could’ve pulled away from him, kept my...Leg to myself, but I wanted that contact. Even with Neal at my side, nudging me now and again, I wanted it from Andy. It wasn’t about the touches themselves. I wanted him.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Boogie Shoes (baon)

Summary: Andy Jeff really isn't one to celebrate his birthday, but when you have someone like Stretch for a best friend, what's a guy supposed to do?

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Found Family, Friendship

Notes:  I like to write a short for my birthday as sort of a present for all my readers, but this year there is Stuff going on so I'm posting a couple days early. 😁

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Jeff was concentrating so hard on the spreadsheet in front of him that the knock on his office door made him jump, banging his knee on his desk.

“Come in,” he called, rubbing his wounded leg. The door opened to reveal not Catty with more work, as expected, but Stretch, carrying what Jeff sincerely hoped was an iced mocha latte with his name on it.

“heya, handy andy,” Stretch set the cup down carefully away from the laptop and Jeff took it gratefully. He seriously loved his job, but everyone could use a quick coffee break from time to time. “i came up to pester my shorter half and thought i’d stop and say hi.”

“If you come bearing caffeine, you can visit any day of the week.” Jeff took a sip and couldn’t hold back an appreciative groan. The Beanery knew its coffee, for sure, and they made their own mocha syrup in house. Perfection in a recyclable cup.

Stretch plopped down in the only other chair in the office, propping his untied sneakers on the corner of Jeff’s desk and Jeff let him, payment for the tasty goodness. “so. right to brass tacks…tacts? who the hell came up with that phrase…anyway, a little bird told me your birthday was coming up.”

“A little bird?” Jeff said dryly. He saved his spreadsheet and pushed his laptop aside; this conversation might require actual attention before he got swept away in some kind of crazy scheme. Been there, done that, lost an eyebrow to prove it. “More like the cat who should’ve gotten your tongue.” Catty was a gossip of astonishing breadth and commitment.

“could be,” Stretch grinned, “but hey, birthdays only happen once in a blue moon, didn’t wanna miss the boat, you’re the apple of my eye, don’t wanna be a fair-weather friend—”

“Enough,” Jeff laughed. “Before I run out of here like a bat out of hell. What did you have in mind?”

Stretch dropped his feet back to the floor and sat up so straight Jeff could hear the joints in his spine pop in protest. “as your best bud, i’m pretty sure i’m supposed to throw you a party or something. didn’t want to go the surprise route, ‘cause as fun as that sounds to me, i kinda think you need to feel out that sort of thing before you plan it. don’t have a bladder, but it doesn’t take a crystal ball to figure out that making someone piss their pants in front of friends and family is kinda the opposite of fun.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Jeff shuddered. “To be honest, I’d rather not have a party at all.”

“oh. okay, if that’s what you want.” Stretch didn’t sound put out, only a little disappointed as he slumped back into the chair. He wouldn’t pry, Jeff knew, but it was okay. A lot of his old hurts stung less these days.

“It’s just…my parents used to throw me a party every year, but they didn’t invite my friends.” What few he had, but that didn’t seem worth mentioning. “They invited theirs and kids from our church who didn’t even like me. I’d spend the whole time being ignored at a party that was supposed to be about me, unless it was to blow out the candles for the photo op.” The memory of sitting miserably alone, waiting for his father to scold him in a low whisper through clenched teeth to stop embarrassing him…Jeff shook it away. He was done letting his dad hurt him, thanks. “After I moved in with Julia, we just had a little cake and dinner together with some presents.”

He could practically see Stretch eagerly latch onto that idea. “we could do that, if you want! edge could make dinner, you and antwan could come over. have some cake, play some games—”

“Play games? I thought you wanted me to have a nice, quiet night,” Jeff teased. Their game nights hadn’t reached the level of the legendary (and fiery) last game of Monopoly before it was permanently banned, but not for lack of trying.

Stretch’s grin was unashamed, but then, he didn’t usually start the gaming fires, he only fanned the flames. “yeah, okay, maybe a movie. how about it?”

“I’d like that.” One of Edge’s delicious dinners, followed by one of his luscious desserts? He could do things with chocolate that would make angels swear and devils weep, Jeff’s mouth was already watering.

Stretch was nodding thoughtfully, probably already plotting at least something unusual and whatever it was, Jeff knew it would make him laugh. He started to climb to his feet and Jeff hastened to stop his escape. He was starting to get the hang of all this, figuring out the steps to Stretch’s internal dance, and he knew the best time to probe for his own info was when Stretch just dug up his own.

“What about for your birthday,” Jeff asked, lightly, “party animal or homeboy?”

Either way, Jeff figured he could rope Edge into helping and they could have some real fun with it, come up with some sort of crazy party theme. Mad scientist was probably off the table, unless they stuck with classroom experiments, but Stretch would think rubber chickens were hilarious, or wearing anything but clothes or even a 70’s disco bash, Jeff had a cute pair of go-go boots that he was dying to wear.

Of all the answers Stretch might give, from actual honesty (unlikely) to some kind of sly pun (far higher on the list), Jeff was not expecting his friend to only shrug his narrow shoulders. “dunno, i’ve never had a birthday party.”

“What? Seriously?” Jeff said, startled. He’d honestly expected that if nothing else, Edge would make sure Stretch got a little celebration, not to mention Blue.

Stretch only rolled to his feet and lived up to his namesake with a joint-popping groan, tall enough that his fingers brushed the ceiling as he stretched. “don’t even know when my birthday is, none of us do. it was always just me and blue until we got here.”

He didn’t seem bothered by it, which, yeah, it wasn’t like he knew any different. But knowing that Stretch never had any kind of parent…sure, his own parents were kind of shit, but he’d at least had Julia. Stretch was the older brother, had anyone ever taken care of him, made sure he had presents and hugs and treats when he needed them, made him feel any kind of special, before Edge stepped up?

Jeff was afraid he knew the answer to that one. No wonder the whole Skeleton family went all out on Gyftmas.

“anyway, i better let you get back to work.” Stretch waggled his fingers in a lazy little wave. “i’ll talk to edge, makes some plans for this weekend, yeah?”

“Sure, sounds great,” Jeff said, but he already had a plan of his own forming and knew just the accomplice to help.

It was how he ended up crouched behind a sofa a few days later with the entire skeleton clan, plus extras, waiting for a door to open and the lights to turn on before jumping out with the rest of them to a loud chorus of, “Surprise!”

Surprise was probably an understatement, Stretch nearly jumped out of his non-existent skin and he dropped the bag of books he was carrying, a quick call from Thomas at ‘Classic Books’ the perfect ruse to get him out of the house for a couple of hours.

Jeff really hoped someone recorded that shriek, it deserved a place of honor on Twitter.

“what the hell?” Stretch didn’t seem happy, only bewildered, looking around the room at the streamers, the balloons, the haphazard pile of presents with the rubber chicken in a white leisure suit standing guard, and the banner that declared, ‘happy birthday!’. There was an entire buffet table full of mouthwatering treats, more than enough for the hungry guests, and eh, maybe the huge disco ball was a bit much, but when you had a theme, you had to run with it.

“It’s a party for you, Papy!” Blue chirped out, like maybe somehow his brother missed the clue. His cheery smile dimmed a little, the party hat on his head almost drooping when Stretch only stood there in confusion with his bag at his feet. Edge started towards him in obvious concern and Jeff held out a hand to stop him. This was his idea, he’d take the heat.

He walked over to Stretch and picked up the bag, heavy books shifting within it. The shiny white leather of his go-go boots reflected the light of the disco ball, but Jeff forced himself not to stare at them. Instead, he pulled off one of the wide gold chains around his neck, the one with a medallion on it that had ‘Let’s Boogie’ engraved in it. He held it out, looking into his friend’s pale eye lights as he admitted, a little nervously, “I figured since I didn’t want my birthday, I’d give it to you.”

The confusion on Stretch’s face faded into something more complicated, harder to interpret, but there was no mistaking the strength of the hug Jeff abruptly found himself pulled into, the books thumping back to the floor.

“thanks.” A single word, maybe a little too soft and thick. Tears pricked Jeff’s eyes as he hugged Stretch back, the best friend he’d never even thought to wish for, much less imagined he’d have. Then he was biting back a laugh as Stretch murmured, “we’re still doing dinner and a movie, you shit.”

“Deal.”

Stretch let go after a minute and his grin was enough to rouse the rest of the guests who were starting murmur apprehensively. He snatched the necklace still dangling from Jeff’s hand and looped it around his neck with a loud, “c’mon, let’s party!”

It was one of the best ideas Jeff thought he’d heard all year.

-finis-

[cathwritestragediesnotsins]

Across the Hall (1)

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: Dean, Y/N, Cas and Sam all share a large loft apartment in NYC. The only problem? Y/N has feelings for Dean. But he doesn’t know because there’s no way a guy like him could have feelings for a girl like Y/N...right?

Word count: 1,551

A/N: hey guys this is my first attempt at a series so I wrote this part to get it out there and see what ppl thought and then I’ll write more if ppl are interested! Thanks for reading!

I was up early this morning, earlier than was normal for me. The view that I got to watch this morning was completely new to me because I had never been up early enough to watch the sunrise. I sat on the couch, cocooned in a blanket to keep out the chill of the morning, facing the windows so as to watch the sky sleepily waking up and changing from a deep navy to a steel blue.I could hear the bustle of traffic off in the distance and smiled to myself at the peacefulness of watching the city that never sleeps come alive.

I heard the door down the hall close mutedly as Cas tried to keep quiet so as not to wake the others. When he made his way into the kitchen a surprised expression spreads across his face at seeing me up this early. I gave him a small smile and held up my coffee mug to let him know I had put on a pot already. He took this que and went about with his morning, making himself breakfast and fixing himself a cup of coffee.

I get up and shuffle to the kitchen to talk to him before he has to leave for work-still draped in my blanket. When I lean against the counter across from him Cas turns, eyes immediately dropping questioningly to my bare legs. He smirks after a moment. “No pants?” he chuckles. I stick my tongue out at him childishly. “Hey if you boys all get to walk around here without shirts on I am allowed to not wear pants every once in awhile.” I argue. Cas shakes his head and rolls his eyes in amusement as he lifts his mug to his lips. “So, are you still working on that missing persons case?” I question, secretly prodding him to know if he’ll be back for movie night tonight without straight up asking him because I know how stressed he is with work. He hums in confirmation and gulps down the bitter drink in his mouth, “Yeah, finally got a lead on where the boyfriend was the night she went missing so we’re gonna check that out.” I nod understandingly. Even though I am a bit dissappointed with how much of my friend’s time this case is taking up I am glad to hear they’re making progress because I know this is important.

“What about you?” 

Cas asks, bringing me out of my thoughts. I shrug. “Well we’ve got some kids coming over to drop off some donations at 1:00 and the mayor is coming with for the photo op but other than that, things are gonna be pretty slow today. We haven’t had a lot of adoptions recently.” Castiel gives me a sad smile because he knows how much I love all the animals at the shelter. “It’ll pick up again soon.” he reassures and I bob my head, trying to seem optimistic. 

Cas lets out a sigh and then looks around, “Speaking of which, where is your army? I haven’t seen any of them this morning.” I laugh at the mention of my many pets. “Well Elias, Atlas, Georgia and Nemo are all sleeping comfortably in my bed. And Crowley and Otto are hiding under furniture somewhere.” I say, waving my hand in the direction of the living room. Cas glances around me and over my shoulder as if to see if he can spot one of the cats in their hiding places. I snicker a bit, recalling the many occasions in which Crowley would sneak up and scratch Cas simply because he didn’t like him. Needless to say Cas-who is normally the sweetest guy I know-returns my cat’s disdain. The scruffy man’s eyes return to me a moment later though when he sees the coast is clear for now. “Is that why you’re up so early? Because your dogs took over your bed?” I laugh, light and airy, again and nod. “Yeah, they got scared of the thunderstorm last night and I didn’t have the heart to kick them out.” I say with a shrug.

Just then the door to Dean’s room opens and he shuffles out in nothing but some grey joggers; his hair sticking up every which-way. “Mornin’ guys,” he says, stopping just outside his doorway to stretch. I allow my eyes to sweep over his muscular torso for just a moment before he can catch me. “G’morning.” I reply, giving him a crooked smile. Dean returns it and comes over to the counter next to me where the coffee maker is to claim the last of the hot beverage in the pot. “What’re you doing up so early N/N?” Dean asks, turning to me and sighing after he takes the first sip of his morning fix. I chuckle at the question, knowing I’ll be asked the same one by Sam whenever he gets up. “Couldn’t sleep.” I state plainly, moving toward the cabinet to get a bowl for cereal. Dean frowns. Cas throws Dean a knowing look which Dean returns with a glare. I pretend not to noticed all of this happening over my shoulder; brushing it off.

“Well I should get going.” Cas says, pushing himself off of where he was leant on the counter. He makes his way out of the kitchen and gathers all of his necessary work items before jogging up the short stairway to the front door. 

“Your coat is in the closet!” I yell,

I hear the sound of a door opening and closing and then my friend calls out in thanks. “I’ll see you all later!” he calls, opening the front door. “Ok, have a good day!” I pause to say as I’m opening the fridge in search of milk. The sound of the door closing can then be heard and our detective friend is off to make the world a safer place.

I turn from the fridge and see that Dean is once again perched on the kitchen counter. I swat lightly at his legs, “You’ve got to stop doing that,” I chastise, “we have chairs ya know.” Dean flashes me on of his adorable smiles, knowing I can’t even pretend to be mad at him when he makes that face. I roll my eyes. “Stop being cute when I’m trying to be mad at you!” I whine. Dean’s smile morphs into a smirk, “Sorry beautiful, just can’t help it. You’re not the only one who’s cute without trying.” he says, shooting me a wink. I roll my eyes and subconsciously adjust my posture so I don’t look like the pillsbury dough boy. I give Dean a sarcastic look before pointedly looking down at my bare thighs, “Yeah, sure, cute.” I say, trying to make it come off as a joke. Dean frowns, his eyebrows creasing together and his lips pouting slightly. 

He hops off the counter as I take a seat at the breakfast bar and pulls out the chair across from me. “Why do you always talk about yourself like that? You know you’re beautiful right?” he questions. My lips press into a tight smile, “I wouldn’t say beautiful but I know I’m ok, yeah. Just not without trying.” I explain. Dean shakes his head at me, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “That’s not true.” he says adamantly. I speak up, seeing he has more to say but desperately wanting to avoid having this conversation with the man I am in love with, “Doesn’t matter,” I dismiss quickly, hoping that will be enough to diffuse the subject. I should’ve known better. “Yes, yes it does matter. You are the coolest, most beautiful, badass woman I have ever met! You should know that.” he insists. I close my eyes in stress for a moment, not believing for one second that he means those words as anything more than comforting a friend. “Dean, can we please not have this conversation right now?” I beg. Dean sighs, “Fine.” he mumbles, leaning back in his seat to show he is backing off.

I clear my throat, bringing up the first subject that comes to mind. “So, how’s the car coming?” I ask, knowing he can’t resist the chance to talk about his precious ‘baby’. His dazzling smile causes me to mirror his expression as he starts on about his car, telling me all about how he refurbished the bench seats and added some extra speakers in the back. I’m not a car person but even I am excited for Dean to finish his repairs on the beautiful ‘67 chevy impala he got at an auction. It has all the potential in the world and seeing Dean so excited about it makes me happy. “That’s great Dean! I can’t wait til it’s finished! You know when it is you’ll be driving me like, everywhere right?” I joke. Dean chuckles, his smile still lighting up the room more than the early morning sun, “Of course sweetheart. Gotta show that asshole Shawn how much cooler you are than him.” Dean replies. I laugh at the idea of my co-worker’s face if I were to pull up to the shelter in such a gorgeous car. 

“Now, that, I can get on board with!” 

[flowerfan2]

Group Texts Are Ridiculous (Or, Five-0 Starts a Group Text) - Chapter 4

Hi all!  Here’s Chapter 4 (of 5); then there will be an epilogue/short follow-up in the series, and possibly more.  If you’re enjoying this, could you please re-blog it?  I’m trying to figure out whether it is still worth posting fic on tumblr as it seems the large majority (almost all? 99%?) of my readers are on A03.

Many thanks, and enjoy this one (which could also be titled “Danny’s Kiss Is Magic”).

McDanno, T, A03, 7,500 words so far

Chapter 4

August 4, 2020

DW:  Ok, I just sent you what I could put together.

SM:  Thanks, I appreciate it.

DW:  Be smart about it, though.  

SM:  What’s that supposed to mean?

DW:  Have a game plan.  Think before you act.

SM:  Are you implying I’m not capable of carrying this out?

DW:  I know you, you get carried away.

 SM:  So I’m too impulsive?

 DW:  You said it, not me.

 SM:  I hardly think it’s relevant here.

 DW:  Fine, whatever.  Get yourself killed.  See if I care.

 TR:  Cough.  Group text.

 SM:  Hey, Tani.  What’s up?

 TR:  Not much.  Just minding my own business here at headquarters.  

 JG:  You guys should probably take me out of this group now.

 SM:  Any good cases?

 TR:  Pretty quiet, actually.  Except for the stomping coming from Danny’s office.  Towards mine.  I better get off the phone.

  <b>August 5, 2020</b>

 JR:  Saw the texts from yesterday.  Are we helping Steve with an op?

 DW:  “We” aren’t helping Steve with anything.  

 JR:  Okay.  But you know I’ll help out, if there’s anything you need.  

 DW:  Thanks, Junior.  Focus on the perp you’ve got in the back seat of your car for now.

 JR:  Yes sir.

 TR:  You know we’d all help.  Even Grover, I bet.

 DW:  While I appreciate the offer, what I’d really like is to get a confession in the case we’re actually working at this very moment.

 TR:  So, what, you want us to bring this guy in so you can talk to him?

 DW:  Something like that, yes.

 LG:  You’re really getting the hang of this boss thing, Danny.

 DW:  **middle finger emoji**

  <b>August 15, 2020</b>

 LG:  Is Danny with any of you guys?

 TR:  Nope.  He left RumFire before we even ordered a second round.  Seemed distracted.

 LG:  Where did he go?  He’s not answering his phone.

 TR:  I don’t know, home, I guess?

 <i>TR changed the name of the group text to</i> <b>Danny please answer your phone</b>

 LG:  Is Junior there?  Can he check?

 JR:  I’m at Tani’s.  What’s wrong?

 LG:  I got a call from Kono.  I need to find Danny.

 QL:  I can go over to Steve’s place and see if Danny’s there, I’m closest.

 LG:  Thanks, Quinn.  Go now.

 JR:  He might be at headquarters.  

 LG:  It’s past midnight on a Friday.  I doubt paperwork is that interesting.

 JR:  Sometimes he hangs out there, on the couch.

 LG:  Are you telling me he’s sleeping at the office, Junior?

 JR:  He didn’t want me to tell anyone.  I guess the house seems kind of weird without Steve.

 LG:  We’ll come back to that – for now, one of you get over to headquarters and see if Danny’s there.

 TR:  Lou, what are you not telling us?  What’s wrong with Kono?

 LG:  Kono’s fine, just find Danny.  

 TR:  Is she still hunting down sex traffickers?  Oh fuck, I bet Steve was helping her with an op.  That’s what those texts from Danny were about, sending Steve intel.

 JR:  Is Steve ok?  Does he need our help?

 LG:  Calm down, Junior.  You’re not going anywhere.

 QL:  I’m at the house.  I used the key in the hiding place when Danny didn’t answer the door right away. Eddie’s not much of a guard dog, he’s just licking me.

 LG:  He knows you.  Is Danny there?

 QL:  Hang on, I’m going upstairs.  He’s not going to jump around a corner and shoot me, is he?

 LG:  Let’s hope not.

 QL:  Okay, Danny’s here, he was just asleep.  But he’s awake now.  

 LG:  Tell him to call Kono immediately.

 QL:  He’s doing it now.

 TR:  Quinn, what is she saying?  What’s going on?

 QL:  He didn’t tell me.  Did you know Danny gets dressed crazy fast?

 QL: He’s got a go bag under his bed. Not sure they’ll let him take those guns on the plane.

 TR:  Ask him if we can help.  We can meet him at the airport.

 QL:  Too late, he’s gone.  

 TR:  Is Steve okay?

 QL:  I don’t know.  Damn.

 LG:  Sit down and breathe, Quinn.  

 QL:  I’m all right.  But shit. I’ve never seen Danny look like that.

 LG:  Like what?

 QL:  Terrified.

  <b>August 17, 2020</b>

 JR:  Ok, how long do we wait before we call in the calvary?

 JR:  *cavalry

 TR:  Backup?

 JR:  Yes.  

 TR:  We don’t even know where they are.

 JR:  Other than Danny rented a car at the airport in Seattle yesterday morning.

 TR:  How do we know that, exactly?  And why didn’t you tell me?

 JR:  You didn’t ask.  And Jerry is tracing Danny’s credit card.

 TR:  This is nuts.

 JR:  I’m gonna go to Seattle.  I’ll call Danny when I get there.  If I’m already there, he won’t tell me to stay home.

 LG:  No, but I’ll tell you, right now.  Stay where you are.

 JR:  This group text thing may have been a mistake.

 TR:  You think?

 LG:  Just listen for a minute. I heard from Kono.  No need for backup.

 TR:  Are you going to tell us more or what?  

 KK:  Guys, Steve is ok, and so is Danny.  You can relax.

 LG:  Kono, these kids are going to bite my head off if you don’t give them some details.

 KK:  First off we’re sorry we didn’t get in touch sooner – Danny wanted me to call Lou last night as soon as Steve was out of danger, but then things got a little hairy.

 QL:  But now?

 KK:  It’s all good.

 LG:  Maybe you should start from the beginning?

 KK:  Too long to text the whole thing, but you know Steve was helping me on an op.  One of the people financing a sex trafficking ring was rumored to be in the area, and we set him up.  During the take down Steve got hurt, but he’s going to be okay.

 TR:  What happened?

 KK:  He kind of jumped through a plate glass window and out of a building to get away from a bomb.  But we caught the bad guy, so he’s pretty pleased with himself.

 TR:  I see why Danny is particularly annoyed when I do that kind of thing.

 KK:  Steve got pretty banged up, and some glass got in his eye, but the doctors say he’s doing well now.  Had to have surgery last night, though, there was some internal bleeding they didn’t catch right away.

 JR:  Why isn’t Steve texting us, or Danny?

 KK:  They’re both asleep.  It was kind of a tough night for both of them.

 KK:  [Photo - SteveandDanny.jpg – 8.17.2020]

 TR:  Awww.  Danny looks so small.  Look at him tucked in there between Steve’s side and the bed railing, all snuggled up against Steve.  

 KK:  Doesn’t he look tiny?  I know people always say patients in hospital beds look small, but with Danny slotted in there right next to him, Steve looks normal sized.

 LG:  Actually he looks like he crashed through a plate glass window, but I suppose that’s normal for him.

 QL:  Steve’s holding on to Danny even in his sleep.  I’m dying here.

 JR:  Is it ok to ask if Steve’s gonna lose his eye?  That bandage looks serious.

 KK:  So far the doc says it should heal, with minimal vision loss. But it’s too soon to tell for sure. He might need another surgery.

 TR:  I’m saving this picture forever.  I can’t believe the hospital staff let Danny climb into bed with Steve.

 KK:  By the time this happened Danny really didn’t care what anyone else had to say on the subject.  

 TR:  I can imagine.

 KK:  You guys could have given me a heads’ up, you know.  Would have saved some drama yesterday.

 LG:  What do you mean?

 KK:  Danny barreled in here looking for Steve, calling himself his partner, and then there was a bit of a scuffle about what partner meant.  

 TR:  Well, they’re not exactly partner-partners.  Just work partners.

 KK:  You sure?

 TR:  They’re pretty touchy-feely, but they certainly don’t share a bed.

 JR:  Usually.  Unless I’m in the guest room when Danny’s over.

 TR:  Excuse me?

 JR:  The couch is bad for Danny’s back, and Steve refused to let me give up my room for Danny.  So they both sleep in Steve’s room.

 TR:  Were you ever going to mention this?  Or is this one of those respect for your superior officer things?

 JR:  I plead the fifth.

 KK:  Well the cat’s out of the bag now.

 JR:  I don’t think we should assume they’re together, not until they tell us.

 KK:  Okay, but after seeing the big ol’ kiss Danny planted on Steve in front of the entire ICU, I’m feeling fairly confident this isn’t platonic anymore.

 KK:  Steve’s reaction was priceless, too.  He grinned like you wouldn’t believe, brighter than the Hawaii sun, and then pulled Danny down to kiss him back.  

 LG:  Hot damn.

 TR changed the name of the group text to Danny’s Kiss Is Magic

[zombiesbecrazy]

strangers and lost ones

Summary: Magic, Bruce had long since decided, was frustratingly random and he very little patience for it.

AO3

Note: This stemmed out of the batfam discord server and a conversation about neonatal abstinence syndrome and then it got wildly out of hand. This is for @helplesslynerdy and @androbeaurepaire, because the conversation inspired this fic. Andro also made awesome art that inspired this fic, which you can find and love and appreciate HERE

Magic, Bruce had long since decided, was frustratingly random and he very little patience for it. From an outsider perspective he could appreciate the artform; the skill, talent and dedication it took magic users told hone their craft to accomplish great things, but as a man dressed up in armour currently trying to outsmart someone who could conjure things out of nothing and rain lightning down from the skies it was just exhausting, especially after having spent days tracking down the offender only for them to slip through dimensions to disappear.

This was the fourth time he had tracked down Klarion in the past five months and at this point part of Bruce was hoping that he would just get tired of this game of cat and mouse that they’ve been playing and just stay in his own damn dimension for a while to give Bruce time to test the prototype he and Zatanna had been working on to seal access between the two worlds.

Klarion cackled as he opened the doorway to his home, casting out a final curse causing yellow sparks to blast around the field, before he and Teekl escaped through his portal back to Witch World. Again.

Bruce ducked and dodged, missing the spell by inches, but he heard a shout behind him, Jason’s familiar yelp of surprise when something caught him unaware, and his heart jumped into his throat and sank into his stomach at the same time and he turned and ran to where his back up for the evening had been fighting from.

But they weren’t there. Not exactly.

Instead of Red Hood and Nightwing, Bruce found a baby and a small child, curled up together on the forest floor in tiny, maskless versions of their uniforms, somehow less armor and more like footie pyjamas, but easily recognizable. Bruce crouched down and picked up tiny baby, Jason, who now that Bruce was closer to him, was even younger than originally thought at first glimpse, days old at best. Bruce had held babies before, countless of times both as Bruce, where people seemed to thrust them into his arms for photo ops, and as Batman, when people always wanted to pull them away because they had just been rescued, but he had never held one with this much personal meaning to him before. He had missed all of his kids at this age, when they were absolutely helpless and dependent on others in the world for everything beyond breathing. Jason was so small that Bruce could barely even notice the weight in his arms, less than five pounds and impossibly fragile, and all he could do was coo in attempt to settle the trembling baby.

He directed his attention to the older boy and Dick was staring at him with wide blue eyes, sitting back on his hands and feet like a crab and schooched farther away from Bruce, just out of arms reach, as soon as Bruce attempted to get closer.

Had Klarion somehow de-aged them twenty years? It made sense based on the apparent age of them. Jason’s twentieth birthday had been mere days ago and as much as it was terrifying to have a newborn baby in his arms, Bruce had to let out a sigh of relief because it was a good thing Tim, Cass or Damian weren’t there because Bruce wasn’t sure what would have happened then. “Dick?” It wasn’t a common event, but de-aging was something that had been known to happen, and there were two regular ways that it seemed to go. The person either retained their memories from their time as an adult and was just trapped in a younger version of their body or their minds were regressed along with their body back to their corresponding developmental stage. Both weren’t without their challenges, but only one of the two targets could tell him which it was, because even if Jason’s adult mind was in the baby, he wasn’t able to communicate it. “Can you tell me how old you are, chum?”

The child stared at him for a moment longer before holding up a shaking hand with four fingers extended. Four tiny and delicate fingers that he then closed again tight and curled up into a tight ball, eyes darting around quickly, looking at the forest clearing they were in in bewilderment before looking back to Bruce and sucking in a quaking breath that shook on every part of the inhale. The child, his son, was terrified and confused and did not remember that he was a twenty four year old superhero at all.

“I don’t know where my parents are,” whispered Dick, voice high and soft, and tears started dripping down his cheeks. He struggled to swallow and took another deep breath. “I think I’m lost.”

Bruce’s heart shattered at the words, not just at the verbal confirmation that Dick and Jason had reverted twenty years in mind as well as body, but that Dick sounded so scared. It wasn’t an emotion that Dick often let show as an adult and seeing it now, so open and raw, had Bruce wanting more than anything to wrap him up in his arms and assure him that everything would be alright but he couldn’t because four year old Dick, who appeared to be teetering on the edge of a very much deserved meltdown, didn’t know Bruce at all and probably wouldn’t react well to that at all.

“I know, Dick.” A lot of kids, even those who had toys of him and knew that he wouldn’t hurt them, found the Batman costume terrifying in person, especially the mask, so pulled off the cowl and gave his hair a shake so that Dick would be able to see his face, a small attempt to let him know that he wasn’t a monster but Dick’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. Bruce huffed out a short breath, and looked at the ground, because of course Dick didn’t bat an eye at the mask. At four he would have spent his whole life travelling with Haly’s, surrounded by people in costumes and masks. He tried again. “My name is Bruce and I’m going to look after you for them while they are gone.”

The small boy finally looked away and buried his face into his knees, and his little body shook. “But I don’t know you,” he finally mumbled. “I’m not supposed to go with strangers.”

Something snapped into place for Bruce. Of course the child knew that he shouldn’t go with strangers, especially with travelling from place to place it would have been something repeated over and over again by his parents, but it was also very possible that because of that lifestyle, Dick had never been left alone with a stranger at all. Never had a babysitter that he hadn’t grown up with, hadn’t been dropped off at daycare or first day of school. Bruce was quite possibly the first stranger that Dick had ever met in person and not just seen from a distance in a circus crowd. “I understand, and that is very smart, but I can’t leave you here all by yourself.” Dick’s head rose from his knees, face red and a mess of tears, and he looked around the field again before settling back on Bruce, but didn’t say anything. “I’ll take you back to my house and we’ll wait for your parents there.” He didn’t know if that was going to work, if four year old Dick would ask how they would get in contact with his parents, how they would know where to find him. Bruce rocked the baby in his arms gently, and tilted his chin down at him. “You can help me look after Jason.”

Dick’s eyes dropped and then widened, apparently not having registered that Bruce was holding a baby in his arms before with everything else that he was trying to absorb. He uncurled from his ball and leaned a little closer to Bruce, trying to look at the tiny version of the brother that he didn’t know he had. "Is he lost too?"

"I think so."

Dick straightened up, squared is tiny shoulders in resolve and rearranged his face into a smaller version of one Bruce knew quite well on Dick; fierce protection. It frankly looked adorable on a small child in a pyjama version of the Nightwing costume. "I'll take care of him." I don't know you but I'll protect the baby. "Do you know my dad?" Dick asked, not taking his eyes off Jason.

“I’ve never met him,” Bruce admitted because it felt like a test more than it did genuine curiosity. He could have lied, said that he did know John Grayson if for some reason that made Dick feel better about him, and fake his way through whatever questions Dick followed up with, but it didn’t seem right to lie to him any more than was necessary. “But I do know Mr. Haly, if that helps any.”

That seemed to catch Dick’s attention back and he looked up at Bruce again, still uncertain but a little more at ease, tension easing from his frame. “You know Pop?” He slid closer to Bruce, finally back within reach, close enough that if he wanted to, Bruce could reach out and run his hand through Dick’s soft hair.

“I do.”

That seemed to be the deciding factor for Dick, because he got to his feet and held out his hand to Bruce. “Okay. You can look after me until Mama comes.” He was still scared, as he absolutely should be, but between wanting to look out for the baby and Bruce saying that he knew Pop Haly was enough to make him feel like going with a strange man was a better option than staying alone in an empty forest. As glad as he was the Dick had agreed to go with him without a fight and he didn’t have to drag him kicking and screaming to the car, it made Bruce nervous how easy it was to convince the child to got with a strangers in a scary costume into a car, with only the slightest of prompting. It was terrifying how much trust was being placed in his hands. Bruce got to his feet, made sure that Jason was snug and secure in his arm and held Dick’s tiny hand and led him back to where they had left the car.

They got to the car and Dick stopped short, looking at it in awe. “Your car is cool!”

“Thank you. My son named it the Batmobile.”

“You have kids?”

“I do. Five, but they are mostly all grown up now.” Or they were usually all mostly grown up at least.

Bruce paused at the car and tried to think about logistics. The car had taken a lot of damage earlier in the night as they had been chasing down Klarion and the autopilot function was offline and the steering column was malfunctioning and he was going to need both hands to drive home, which left the problem of what to do with Jason. Considering all of his options, he looked down at Dick. “Have you ever held a baby before?”

“Once, but she was bigger.” Dick bit his lower lip and looked at the baby in Bruce’s arms. “He’s really little.”

“He’s brand new,” and probably a premie. Bruce detached his cape and laid it on the hood of the car before carefully laying Jason in the middle before wrapping him tight into a burrito wrap. This was a terrible idea, but it was the best that he had right now if he was going to be able to drive back to the cave. “I’m going to need you to do a very important job for me, Dick. Climb into the backseat and put the seat belt on.” If he was going to drive with a four year old holding a newborn without car seats in a car that was absolutely not street legal, they were going to sit in the backseat even if it was only for some pretense of safe decisions. Dick climbed in, Bruce resisting the urge to give him a boost, and pulled the belt across him. “Do you need help with the buckle?”

“No, I can do it.” It took him a few tries, but he got it locked in place and smiled up at Bruce triumphantly.

“Good job,” Bruce said and then smiled as Dick kicked his legs against the seat at the praise. “Now, I’m going to put Jason in your lap and you are going to hold him like this.” Bruce arranged Dick and Jason in a way that was going to be the best that he could do in the moment. “Can you hold onto him like this until we get to my house? Keep him safe in the car?”

“I can do that.” He looked down at the tiny baby. “I’ll keep you safe, Jason.” His head snapped back up to Bruce, expression serious and dour, like it did when Dick saw an unexpected bomb as an adult. “What if he cries?”

“Just remember that it isn’t anything you’ve done. Babies this small mostly just cry when they are hungry and we’ll get food for him at my house.” He looked at his first two children in the car, curled up together in a way that in his wildest dreams he never thought he’d get to see and fought the urge to take out his phone for a picture, knowing that the cameras in the car would cover that for him. “If something happens and you think you need to let go, tell me and I’ll stop the car right away to help you, alright?” Dick nodded and tightened his arms up around Jason, either so that he could be sure that he had him or that he could show Bruce that he was taking his job seriously, Bruce wasn’t sure, but it was as good as it was going to get.

He slipped into the front seat, frowned as the engine turned over in a struggling way, but managed to get on the road without a lot of issues. He’s glad that he hadn’t tried to drive while holding Jason because the steering was even worse than he had thought, pulling severely to the right and he had to overcompensate to keep the car straight on the road. He was headed back towards Bristol, driving through the heights of Gotham, under the speed limit, when a call came through from the cave.

“Master Bruce? Is everything alright.”

“Things are,” he shook his head as he tried to sum up what happened before he settled on “complicated.” He looked at Dick in the rear view mirror and saw that he was being watched with interest. He didn’t know how to best explain to Alfred without potentially frightening tiny ears not understanding properly what was going on before he decided to be honest, but while using big words and hope that Dick didn’t understand what they meant. “There has been a mystical chronological regression anomaly in regards to Nightwing and Red Hood. I’ve found two unattended minors and I am transporting them home now. My new young friend Dick is listening from the backseat. He’s doing a very good job of holding on baby Jason for me.” He saw Dick beam at the praise, but kept looking at Jason’s face.

Several seconds passed in silence before Alfred responded. “That explains the changes in their vitals, I suppose,” Alfred muttered, more to himself than Bruce, and it sounded like he was looking something up on the monitors, keys clicking quickly in the background. “They are both unharmed?”

“It seems so.” Dick hadn’t said anything about any injuries and Jason hadn’t been crying at all, but he hadn’t actually checked either of them out physically, instead choosing to get out of the field.

Alfred hummed and there was more typing and clicking on his end of the line. “In that case we may need to take a look at Master Jason in the med bay when you arrive. Nothing to be alarmed about, but I’d like to examine him thoroughly to be certain.”

Minutes later, Bruce drove into the cave and Alfred rushed over to meet them in the parking area as the car shut down and the automatic doors opened. Bruce got out and came around to Dick’s side where Alfred was already crouched down and introducing himself.

“Hello, Master Dick. My name is Alfred. I heard that you were looking after the baby.” Dick nodded, but said nothing, maybe nervous again now that they had arrived at their destination and in the face of yet another unknown stranger. “Would you be willing to let me take him? I would like to give him a medical exam to make sure he is healthy.”

Dick’s arms tightened around Jason. “Will you hurt him?” The little voice shook, fear back in his eyes as he looked to Bruce before turning back to Alfred’s kind face.

“I’m going to use a needle to take a little of his blood and it will pinch, so he may cry, but no.”

“Like a doctor?”

“Yes, my boy. Exactly like that.” The small boy looked at Alfred inquisitively, trying to discern about whether he should let him take Jason or not, but Jason took that moment to let out a sharp cry and Dick loosened his grip in surprise. He nodded quickly at Alfred, who scooped him up in a practiced and steady way, rubbing his back through the cape burrito. “You can come watch over him while I do the examination.” Dick unclipped his seat belt and clambered out of the car, determined on following Alfred. He got a few feet away from the car and then ran back and grabbed Bruce’s hand and tugged him along after Alfred.

Alfred laid Jason down on the bed, and unwrapped the cape, and took in Jason’s appearance and then looked down at Dick before turning to Bruce. “Did you stop on the way home and buy… costumes?”

Bruce shrugged, because yes, he had noticed that they were in kid versions of their costumes, but hadn’t really had a chance to think too much about it. “No, it’s what they were in when it happened.”

“How peculiar,” Alfred mused as he unbuttoned Jason’s Red Hood onesie, when he paused and chuckled. “He’s even wearing a nappy.”

Bruce and Dick watched as Alfred did his examination, warming the stethoscope with his hands before listening to his heart and letting Dick listen to the beat as well, gently feeling his muscle tone, and as he had told Dick he would, taking a sample of his blood, which Jason chirped at, but didn’t actually cry and Bruce didn’t know if that was good or bad based on Alfred’s expression.

Dick had climbed up on the bed beside Jason and was watching everything with interest. Bruce hesitated, but this was probably going to be the best opportunity that he had to change out of the suit, and he still needed to contact Zatanna about the situation. “I’m going to go get changed and shower, Dick. Will you be fine with Alfred until I get back?” Dick shrugged and Bruce bent down to look at him in the eyes, putting a light touch on his shoulder. “I promise that you will be absolutely safe with Alfred. He looked after me when I was your age.”

“Is Alfred your daddy?” Dick asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. Bruce gazed up at Alfred, who was currently doing an examination of Jason’s ears, but listening to the conversation between himself and Dick. Dick was looking uneasy at the idea of Bruce leaving the room, and his little face was threatening to flood with tears again. He had to express to Dick that he trusted Alfred more than anything in the world in a way that he would understand, so he nodded firmly.

“Yes, and I swear he’ll keep you safe.” Dick sniffed said nothing else, seeming to decide that was good enough for him to agree to stay with Alfred while Bruce changed. Bruce leaned in and mock whispered close to Dick’s ear, but so that Alfred could hear as well, “And I happen to know that he has a jar of lollipops that he gives out after he gives someone a needle. Jason’s too small for his, so he will probably give it to you after he’s finished if you ask him nicely.”

“A red one?” Bruce nodded and Dick copied the action before wiping his eyes with his hand. “Okay. Come back soon?”

“Ten minutes.”

Bruce could do a lot with ten minutes. He went back to the locker room, stripped out of the suit, texted Zatanna, showered, threw on some sweats, downed a protein shake and then followed up with Zatanna that she would stop by tomorrow morning for some breakfast and magical evaluations and possible conjuring if the case needed it, however she confirmed what he already knew that more de-aging usually wore off on it’s own over time.

He walked back to the med bay to find Alfred sitting at a chair beside the bed, holding Jason just in his diaper against his chest and rubbing his back in slow circles, while Dick sat on the bed, swinging his legs over the edge, lollipop sitting in his mouth, chattering away at Alfred about tightrope walkers when Dick saw him and froze.

“You look like you lost a fight with a lioness,” he gasped, and Bruce followed his gaze down to his chest where he hadn’t zipped up his hoodie. He had some fresh cuts that weren’t deep enough to suture but needed bandaging and he was mottled with scars from previous exploits. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. It looks worse than it is. Alfred will look after me.”

“Just like you are looking after us?”

“The very same.”

“You have a dinosaur in your house,” Dick remarked randomly, looking out past the limits of the med bay into the rest of the cave. “Do all houses have dinosaurs?”

It was such a calmly asked but bizarre question and it threw Bruce completely off guard, and by the expression on Alfred’s face, did the same to him which meant a lot because Bruce could count the amount of times that he had seen Alfred truly caught unaware during his lifetime on his fingers. “Have... you never been in a house before?” It was something that Bruce had never really considered, and when Dick had moved in when he was eight he hadn’t mentioned anything remotely like that, so Bruce had to assume that by then he had been in a house at least once, but now that he thought about it, not only had Dick never met any strangers before, his entire upbringing had been either on a train or in a caravan. The child had travelled internationally and had more stamps in his passport than most had in a lifetime but had never lived in a stationary residence.

And now he just accepted that Bruce’s house was an underground cave with a dinosaur in it because he had no other frame of reference.

“No,” said Dick, as if was the most obvious answer in the world. “Can I go look at it?”

“Yes, but be careful? Just to the dinosaur and back. Stay where I can see you.” Dick jumped off the bed and then walked towards the dinosaur a little skip in his step.

Despite Bruce’s words to Dick, he didn’t need Alfred for these injuries and was able to reach to the cabinets for the tape and gauze that he needed and set to work on his own injuries in silence. He looked at Alfred as he bandaged himself up, still holding Jason in his arms and caressing his skin, and was troubled by the pinch in Alfred’s face, the way that his eyebrows were drawn in, ever more slightly than they usually did, unless he was upset about something. “Is he okay?”

“His blood work is still running, but he is as I expected.” Alfred frowned, but leaned down to kiss Jason’s small head. “He is dehydrated and has a slight fever, as well as being underweight for his approximated age and I suspect that he was not full term. He’s quiet, which is unusual, but based on what we know of his personal history and the information we do have, I have reason to suspect that he may be dealing with withdrawal.”

Bruce’s breath caught in his chest. “NAS? Even though that was twenty years ago?” His fingers twitched with desire to track down the ones who had hurt their child, his child, in such a way, who had focused through own wants over the well being of their unborn child like that, but Sheila Hayward and Willis Todd were long past punishable for this particular sin and Bruce was going to have to just swallow this rage down and redirect onto things that he could help the current situation. “Jason doesn’t touch drugs. He barely ever drinks.”

“His de-aged body doesn’t appear to know that,” murmured Alfred. “Has he been fussy?”

“No. Barely a peep.” He stared down at the baby nestled against Alfred. He wasn’t sleeping, and Bruce wasn’t sure that he had slept since the entire incident had occurred. He just laid there, lax against Alfred, simply breathing with his eyes cracked open, too young to even see anything besides blurs.

“Well, that is something at least.” Alfred looked out towards the dinosaur, and smiled as he watched Dick walk around it, running his hands across the surface of it as he wandered between the legs which made Bruce snort. It was something so achingly familiar that Dick had always done and never grew out of, dragging his fingertips across all kinds of surfaces and letting the touch translate his environment around him in a way that only made sense to him. It had taken forever to train it out of him when he was Robin, but it was something he still did when he was Dick, without even noticing he was doing it. “Why don’t you and Master Dick get settled while I feed Master Jason and prepare something for a snack and bring it up to your room?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’d rather try feeding him for the first time without Master Dick around if it is alright with you. I’m not sure if there will be issues and I’d prefer not to frighten the boy further.” The two of them stood and walked out of the med bay and Dick ran towards them as he saw them move. “And he seems rather fond of you.”

The four of them rode up the elevator to the manor, where they then parted ways with Alfred and Jason headed to the kitchen and Bruce leading Dick to the third floor when he noticed that Dick was no longer beside him. He turned and backtracked and found Dick sitting on the stairs, silent tears painting his cheeks, everything that he had been doing is best to hold in having reached a breaking point and bubbling over. Bruce sat down beside him, trying to figure out what to say or ask, but before he had a chance Dick launched himself at Bruce, climbing fully into his arms and wrapping him in a tight hug as he started sobbing a full force.

There was nothing that Bruce could do other than to hug him back, which only made Dick somehow cry harder which he hadn’t thought was possible. He petted Dick’s hair in a way that he remembered Dike liking when he was a child and hoped that it would have the same effect now, and mumbled reassuring nonsense that everything would be alright.

They sat there for a long time, much longer than Dick’s meltdown had lasted, wrapped up in each others arms, Dick’s tiny hand curled into the fabric of Bruce’s shirt and with Bruce wanting more than anything to be able to be the thing that Dick needed him to be right now but knowing that he was a weak substitute at best.

“My mama and papa aren’t coming tonight, are they?” A small voice asked out of the silence, muffled into the fabric on Bruce’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid not. Hopefully they’ll be here tomorrow.” Bruce had no idea what to do if this was going to be a long term thing, what he would say to convince Dick that he hadn’t been kidnapped or separated from his parents by force or any other thing, but he could only focus on the now. “It’s okay if you’re scared. You are in a new place, and you don’t know anyone and you miss them. You’ve been very brave.”

“I’m a Flying Grayson. I’m always brave.”

“Very true.” Bruce stood up slowly, carrying Dick carefully in his arms and still holding the hug tight, while continuing the walk up to the bedroom. “How about you and Jason and I have a sleepover tonight in my room so that none of use have to be alone. We’ll get a big pile of blankets and pillows and snacks and watch any movies you want.”

“I don’t have to go to sleep?” Dick wiped his eyes, whether it be from the tears or a self conscious reaction to talking about sleep.

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.” He rested his head back against Bruce’s shoulder. “Do you have…” He trailed off into silence, question disappearing.

“Do I have any what, Dick?”

“Stuffed animals?” he whispered hopefully. Of course the child would want a toy for comfort, a familiar face in the middle of chaos even if it wasn’t their own.

And Bruce had something even better.

“I can think of the perfect one for you if you don’t mind that it is used.” He stopped and walked back to the door that they had just passed and adjusted Dick in his arms as he turned the handle and opened the door slowly, flicking on the light. “This is my oldest son’s room. He’s not here right now, but I know that he has some that you can borrow.”

“He won’t mind?” Dick asked carefully, as if he didn’t want to get excited about the idea only to be told that he couldn’t borrow the toy after all.

“Not at all. He’ll be glad that you played with them.” Bruce settled Dick down onto the carpet, and rubbed his back, nudging him forward. “There is one on the bed that I think you might like. It’s his favourite.”

Dick walked up to the bed and let out a giggle. “It’s an elephant!” he whispered, before turning back around to look at Bruce, excitement in his eyes. “I have an elephant like this at home!”

“I thought you might.”

“Are you sure it’s okay? If I use his elephant?”

“Absolutely.” Dick reached for it and hugged his arms around it tight as soon as it was in his grasp, burying his face into the worn fur and Bruce was caught with a sense of deja vu, remembering a slightly older child, but in the same room with the same elephant doing the same motion when he was upset and homesick. “Let’s take it and go to my room and settle in for the night.” He reached a hand out to Dick, and they headed back to Bruce’s room.

They worked to pull blankets and pillows together on Bruce’s big California King bed, building a nest fort hybrid on the mattress until Dick deemed it perfect and snuggled down into the goose down duvet, while Bruce propped himself up against the headboard and stretched his legs out before turning the television on. Dick didn’t know what movie he wanted to watch and Bruce had the suspicion that the Grayson’s may not have had a TV in their trailer so he didn’t have a good idea of what he liked. He was flipping through the options, trying to figure out what movie wouldn’t be potentially triggering for a four year old in Dick’s situation (Tarzan? No. Bambi? Definitely not. Why were all these movies about death and loss? Toy Story? Maybe?) when Alfred tapped a knuckle on the door frame, which startled Dick and had him diving under the covers.

“Master Bruce?”

Alfred entered the room with Jason cradled against him and a picnic basket tucked in the crook of his arm. “There are bottles of formula and snacks for the two of you in there, as well as some other baby supplies that you may need for the evening.” He didn’t say the words exactly, but as he settled the basket onto the bedside table Bruce understood that this was his way of saying that he was going to bed and that it was now Bruce’s turn again.

“Did he eat?”

“Not as much as I would like, but some. He has some issues with suckling but he managed to keep some formula down.” Alfred swayed back and forth, rubbing Jason’s back and looking at the pile of blankets that was Dick before turning back to Bruce. “Skin to skin contact is best for struggling newborns, my boy.”

Bruce stared at him blankly for a few seconds as the words registered and information that he had read on NAS, premature babies and other such illnesses came rushing back. Kangaroo care; skin to skin contact for as long as possible, human touch can help to normalize breathing, heart rate, weight gain, among other things. It was an interesting phenomenon that he had often wondered about but had no way of testing himself. He shrugged off his hoodie, laying it beside him on the bed and reached out for the baby in Alfred’s arms and was reminded again of just how small Jason was as he came to rest on his chest, receiving blanket covering them both.

It was different than before, when there had been a layer of armor between them, now when he could feel the skin on his own, feel Jason’s tiny heart fluttering in his chest, fighting battles so hard from the very start and doing so well.

Bruce was going to do everything in his power to keep this tiny heart safe from harm.

"Do you want for anything, Master Dick?" Alfred asked kindly. Bruce thought for a moment that Dick might says something, but instead shook his head silently and burrowed deeper into the blankets, closer to Bruce's hip, snuggling up against him.

“Thank you, Al.” Alfred nodded and retreated from the room, leaving Bruce, Jason and Dick to along their own devices.

They sat in the quiet for a little while before Bruce started to hear a voice in the general area that Dick was hiding under the blanket. He couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded like Dick was having a conversation with somebody. “Are you alright, Dick?”

A tiny head popped up, closely followed by a stuffed elephant, which Bruce only now realised had been the thing that Dick was talking to. Dick shifted up closer and cuddled close enough that his head was resting on Bruce’s stomach as a pillow, but below the bundle that was Jason. “I miss my family.” He confessed, squeezing the elephant tight. Bruce couldn’t see his face, but he could feel wetness under Dick’s face again. “What if they don’t know where to find me?” he whispered.

“Your family will find you Dick. They’ll always find you.” Bruce reached down and ran his hands through Dick’s hair, just as he had a million times before and would do countless times again, and the boy leaned into the touch. “You’ll never be lost again.”

[anothermisguidedmillennial]

On Sitting Still

I have spent most of my adult life running from one place to another.

I ran through high school, desperately trying to fit into some kind of social group that would accept me. I literally ran through the cross country team, and when that didn’t work out, I ran into the music nerds and made that my home. I did a decent job, considering high school sucks for just about everyone, but all things considered, I left high school panting.

I darted into college, my dad undergoing cancer treatment and coming off of a relationship I shouldn’t have been in. I was mainly running away from everything that went poorly before, and hoping desperately to finally find a place where I fit in. I ran into a music program, mostly to seek approval. People who want approval love performing, because they love the immediacy of people clapping for them. But then I ran from that program when I failed, and failed hard.

I ran to Italy my junior year for a semester abroad because I was tired of running. It was the first and only reprieve I had ever given myself, and it worked for a short time. But I came out of that semester running and determined to make a name for myself at my college campus, because my worst fear at that time was leaving having made no public accomplishments. So I made that name known, but I left college exhausted.

Then I ran to Boston, because making a name for yourself comes with a reputation, and I couldn’t stand any negative notoriety that came with being an assertive woman entertaining the idea of a career in politics who didn’t take no for an answer. As one does in their young life, I wanted to escape commitment and family and everything I thought I was too young for. I took off sprinting in Boston, getting my first promotion not even six months into my first job there.

When I didn’t get my second promotion at said job, I galloped back to upstate New York, half with my tail between my legs at having moved closer to home, but also with a renewed sense of direction. I ran, gasping for air, towards my last semester of graduate school and walked away with my diploma. I sprinted into a new job, a new apartment, becoming a cat mom (thank god it all worked out okay). I felt this bone-weary feeling that I had never felt in my entire life when it was over.

And now here I sit, having driven an hour to visit family and friends, now alone at a bar in Glens Falls, NY, having a margarita and writing this. I’ve learned (and am continuing to endeavor to learn) that there is an art to sitting still. For the first time in my adult life, I do not have somewhere I need to be. I am not running to rehearsal, to a conference call, to another shift, etc. I am exactly where I need to be....which is nowhere.

I haven’t been shy on here that I have struggled with anxiety and disordered eating. I think the pinnacle of where these things came from (mainly an obsession with control) was this idea that I needed to constantly be bettering myself publicly. I had to one-up whatever I did last year, and it was never good enough. I ran myself ragged and I hardly ever gave myself the chance to just sit and be. I was so obsessed with making a name for myself that I never allowed myself to just sit and listen to the music at the bar, or sip the coffee and listen to the live band at the local coffee shop. My key to recovery from mental illness, other than professional help, has been to allow myself to be fallible, but above all, let myself stop.

I don’t have it all figured out, but I also know that I have never been prouder of myself. Seriously. The awards and the recognition and the photo ops and the degrees -- never in my life have I been as proud of myself as I am now, sitting alone at a bar, getting ready to see my friend perform in a theater production in an hour. I guess this proves that nothing actually matters other than your own opinion of yourself. Our success is ultimately defined by us.

To the two people and 5 Russian bots who read this entire thing - thank you. This blog has been a practice in allowing myself to admit publicly that I am not always who I try to be. I have a difficult time showing who I really am in an authentic way - I always have, because I have spent so much time doing whatever it took for the applause at the end of the performance. My brother, ever the wise one who always sees through my act, has always been the only one I’ve ever listened to when he reminds me that I am enough. Maybe now I’ll actually believe him.

[quietlysatan]

The Sawada Family Takes No Crap from Nobody - GC4life, AO3

Link: Here!!

Rating: T for THEY HAVE A GENDERFLUID MAIN CHARACTER AND IT’S ADDRESSED BUT NOT HEAVILY OR A SOURCE OF SUPER ANGST, THOUGH THERE IS A FAIR AND NECESSARY AMOUNT STILL TO BE FAIR

Favorite Quote(s) sorry but these will be out of order fam: Because sometimes, you gotta stop and take notice of the Why of your habits

"I-I didn't know how to answer her," he laughed bitterly. "I love baseball. I love it, but I couldn't tell her why. She asked if I was happy playing baseball and I couldn't answer that either because I wasn't! I wasn't happy! I had to work all the time, by myself, and I had to keep turning my friends away when they wanted to be around me because I had to keep working! When you asked me to go on that trip with you if felt so relieved I wanted to cry, but then I realized I still had to keep working. It was driving me insane! I don't even know why I had to work so hard. How can I love something so much when it doesn't even make me happy?" 

Friendship

"Despite the affronts against common hygiene practices, yes. You won. Even though they were clearly going easy on you. Very impressive Nana."

"You said that sarcastically," her voice was shaking as she melted against the cushions, eyes fluttering, "but that was awesome."

"I did not mean it to come off that way. It is impressive that you managed to succeed. Well done."

"Gonna hold… this against him… forever…"

I want to be able to say something like this if I ever die 

"Ryu," Hanazawa cut him off, "has his own. As does Shouto-kun. Each member of our family has one to give and one to keep. Even if he didn't have one, I would still choose you. You are the only reason I could talk to Ryu. I didn't understand him. I didn't even know how to start. I was so upset at the time, when I realized our family line would be ending, that I pushed aside what would make him happy, what would make him complete. I hurt him, but thanks to you and your ridiculous ability to get under my skin no matter what you say or do I was able to see a way to try. You are the reason I can die happy, Nana."

Because she’s right

"Tsunayoshi," she called softly, voice croaking with age. "You will always lose people in your life. Either through someone's choice or through unforeseeable circumstances your relationships with people will change for better or worse." Her eyes drifted over to the set of photos on the wall across from them. She focused on the one of a small girl, smiling brightly with a tooth missing and cat cradled in her arms.

But also

"I don't want to lose them."

"Then don't run away," she matched his small cry with soft calmness. Blanketing the soft edges of his words with comfort. "There are some things you simply can't stop, but this is not one of them. So long as you can still speak to him, then I see no reason why you shouldn't try. Even if he does not understand, do not give up. You were trying to help him. If he didn't like how you did it then he will tell you. Take his opinion into consideration, but do not give up your own if you truly believe in it. Speak to each other until you can find a common ground to exist upon and go from there."

Because, there’s no excuse for what he did to their son. And this makes it so much worse.

"You," she hissed. Everything over the last year and a half came tumbling down, adding fuel to the fire. The entire time they had been running through that place her mind had been flashing back to the orange flames on her son's head flickering, then disappearing. An unwanted burden on a child's heart. A piece of them torn away by adults that didn't care what they wanted. What was best for them. Now she learned he was a part of the mafia and had ties, good or bad, to the people that had- had hurt those kids. Made a little boy so broken and dangerous it actually made her hesitate to talk to him. "Did you know."

Look, a bitch. But not in a good way.

“He was crying?” Eiichi snorted. “My son plays a simple joke on him and he starts to cry?”

Welp, Nana was going to punch him. Maybe not today, in front of his son’s principal, but he would punch him. The day would come.

“It’s normal for children to cry,” Nana glared at him. “It’s normal for people to cry. I hope you’re not telling your son he is weak for doing so. It would explain why he takes things out on children younger than him though.”

Remember, always talk to your kids' guys, trust them to be honest with you and they will unless it seems important to them.

Hina flipped open a file with three pieces of paper in it, all scribbled on with children’s handwriting. “Sawada-san, do you know why I asked you to come in?”

“I do,” Nana nodded. “I just talked to Tsuna outside.”

Last One. Do No Harm, But Take No Shit

“I think I see the problem now,” Nana informed her, hands crossing in front of him. “Tsu-kun mentioned to me that Kensuke had been making… comments about me. I had been confused because I have never met Kensuke-kun, so I’m not sure how he would know anything about our home life but I recall an incident at the Yamamoto Sushi Shop last year where the Mochida family was asked to leave for harassing me about my gender. I believe that day must have reflected on their son.”

Hina turned to them now, eyebrow raised.

Words & Chapter(s): 135,772 words and 18 of ?? chapters, Uncompleted but still updating and hella worth it.

Summary: Sawada Nana had many secrets. Some were simple (where the cookies were hidden away from small hands). Some were big (being reborn from a man to a woman was an... interesting change). Some were just ridiculous (Checkerface should really just, stop. Seriously, stop). Either way, Nana had kids to look after, and if the world thought they could take even one of the Sawada kids by force they had another thing coming. I'm looking at you Checkerface. And lemitsu. And the Vongola. And... jeez, is everyone in on this? Nana has a lot of work to do, but the kids are worth it. Featuring the adoption of numerous children, Smart Nana, adorably tuna fish, and some seriously needed smackdowns. Reborn is still kind of crazy. And he hates Checkerface. Nana likes Reborn. He can stay. The rest of you, you can go. Quickly.

Score: 13

Pairing(s): Temporary Nana/Sawada Iemitsu. Aiko/Toshiro, Lavina/The dad whose name I still haven’t learned... mostly though, romance is a background thing.

Warning(s): Iemistu is a bitch, and nobody likes his bitchass, he fucking sealed his son, nono is a bitch too, he left his adoptive son in ice sealed Tsuna thus, he is a bitch

Mentions of Mukuro’s... captivity and escape, and the things they ay or may not have done to him and the other children.

Mentions of illness, and also the effects of having an illness sort of? One of the important characters has a disease, but it’s not anyone you can really remember.

Mentions of when a character Would have but Did Not die, and how they changed that.

Pros: SHE/THEY/HE PRONOUNS AND GENDERFLUID REPRESENTATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love what OP did with Nana and how they explained/dealt with everything/everyone!!! 

I love it all, from the poison immunity story, and the explanation for why you should just not fuck with Nana and her family really tbh. 

To the way, Nana adopts everyone without hesitation because somebody gotta do it, and Dammit no one else is trustworthy, good with children, and Definitely human... We’re still not sure what the Hikari family is, there are a few theories though.

To the fact that he (that was the last pronoun OP used in the fic) takes no shit from ANYONE, but the way they still made The Divorce make sense, the way it hurt a little but also how it felt like taking a deep breath after being underwater for a little too long.

UGGGGHHH I JUST LOVE THIS WHOLE FUCKING FIC!!!!!!!1!!!

Musical Aesthetic: Qveen Herby - Vitamins somehow

Gif Aesthetic: What Nana sees when someone is in need of a happy home

What everyone (normal people) else sees

Snake calling Nana on her bullshit

Kyouya and his dad’s answer to every perceived slight

What Mama Hikari is doing in the background

Nana @ The Mafia in general

[calligraphist-artemisia]

The Sun Prince (Chapter 3)

Summary:  It was an accident. A simple misstep that sent him plunging into the darkness and waking an ancient magic. Now Prompto has to deal with the consequences of making a deal with an Astral and learn how to control the magic blooming inside of him.

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net under the username “kishirokitsune”

-

3. Spilling the Truth

Prompto numbly sat in the passenger's seat of the Regalia while Noctis slid into the drivers side and shut the door. The pressure to speak weighed him down so heavily that he had a hard time getting the words to come out right. Instead, Prompto stared blankly at his hands.

“Promto...” Noctis trailed off, frustration coating his voice.

For the moment, the prince was holding himself back, but there was an explosion building the longer Prompto remained silent. Noctis's temper was a fierce and swift one, usually burning out quickly when it came to his friends, but it was the first time Prompto was faced with it being directed towards him. How did Gladio and Ignis handle it? The very thought of Noct being mad at him made him feel sick.

“You've been acting weird ever since you fell into those ruins and now there's whatever that was!” Noctis gestured towards the road, his voice rising in volume. “What the hell was that? What have you been hiding from us?”

“I- I don't know,” Prompto stammered out the truth. He swallowed his panic and hoped that he could hold it back long enough to tell his friend everything that he was still keeping secret.

He started at the beginning, knowing it was the only way he'd stay on track and not forget any detail. Some of it Noct already knew about after their talk the night before, but Prompto repeated it anyway, though he glossed over his descriptions of the murals and winding halls of the ruins.

Noctis was surprisingly quiet through his explanation, only shifting slightly in his seat when Prompto got to the part where the walls were closing in on him. He made a curious sound at his plea to the Astrals.

“You offered up your camera? Wait, that's why you've only been using your phone to take pictures?” Noctis asked.

Prompto nodded. “Well, yeah. I didn't have anything else. Not sure the Gods really need a camera. I just had to hope its value to me was enough, and it must have been, because that's when Rhyos showed up.”

“Rhyos...” Noctis repeated with a frown. “I've never heard that name before. Guess he could be a messenger, like Gentiana, but none of that explains the light show you just put on.”

Ah.

Prompto remembered what worried him the most. Talking to an unknown Astral was one thing, but touching an ancient artifact was a whole different issue, even if it did happen at the urging of said Astral. “Um, okay, so there was one more thing in that room and I swear I didn't want to touch it, but Rhyos insisted that it would help me get out, so...”

Seeing was believing, right?

Prompto reached into the armiger for his bag, letting it fall into his lap in a shower of blue magic. He avoided looking Noctis in the eyes as he pulled out the crown, which cast a soft glow over the interior of the Regalia, and held it up with both hands so his friend could get a good look at it.

“Well, it's magic, that's for sure,” Noctis remarked once he found his voice.

Prompto tried not to let his disappointment show. He knew Noctis had already told him there were no records from the age of Solheim, but he'd hoped seeing the crown might jog his memory of a legend or a story passed down through the ages. The Lucis Caelum's had been around since the end of the Astral War; how was it they knew nothing?

“We should tell Ignis and Gladio about this,” Noctis said.

“No!” Prompto blurted out, earning a raised eyebrow from his friend. “I mean, not yet? I dunno... There's already so much they have to worry about with our lack of funds and trying to find the parts Cid needs to fix the boat, I don't wanna add to all of it. They don't need to worry about me.”

“You're their friend. The more you try and hide this, the more they're going to worry,” Noctis pointed out.

He knew that, but hearing someone else say it? That he and Ignis and Gladio were friends? Wow. It still blew him away.

Despite that, he still wasn't ready to tell them. He knew he should, especially after his accidental burst of magic. (Holy shit, he had magic?! He'd freak out more over that later.) But there would be so many questions that he had no answers to, and there remained that bit of fear in his heart that they would judge him for making an agreement with an Astral he knew nothing about.

That had to be, like, at the top of the list of Very Bad Ideas, right?

Noctis sighed. “Fine. You'll have to tell them eventually or they'll find out on their own. Trust me, they'd rather hear it from you.”

Prompto nodded. “So you really don't know anything about this crown? Or any crown from Solheim?” he asked, just in case.

“Nothing I can think of, but that's not really a surprise. My ancestors kept track of our history, but there was nothing left to remember after Solheim fell. Like I said, Luna might know more, just because she's the Oracle.”

The mention of Lady Lunafreya sent a shiver down Prompto's spine, which he shook off, unsure of why hearing her name would cause such a reaction. “Uh, yeah. Sounds good.”

Noctis was quiet for a moment, and then, very softly broke the silence. “We should get up to the cabin before the others come looking for us.”

Prompto agreed and stuffed the crown back into his bag and then into the armiger. After a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear, the two exited the Regalia and made their way up the hill to rejoin their friends.

-----

Ignis liked to think he was very good at reading others.

With Gladio and Noctis, it was quite easy, even without considering his many years of practice ad getting to know them. Noctis had a habit of broadcasting everything he was feeling or thinking, whether it was through his expressions or body language. He knew the prince was fully capable of masking his emotions, he simply chose not to. Gladio often did it on purpose, preferring the blunt approach over anything subtle, though when the situation called for it, he did have a masterful poker face. More often, he hid his true feelings behind another.

Prompto was.... different. Perhaps because of his common upbringing or maybe because of the sheer number of secrets surrounding him. Secrets that Ignis once attempted to look deeper into, only to be stopped by the Marshall himself, which made Ignis all the more curious about Prompto. All of that may have had a hand in his struggle to understand the blond and figure out his motives for befriending Noctis.

There was always a motive.

Except, naturally, for the utter anomaly that was Prompto Argentum, who only wanted a friend.

He never asked for anything. Never used his status as the best friend of the prince to get what he wanted. Never abused the power and status that came with their friendship. No, the worst Prompto did was encourage the Noctis's poor habits and cause a bit of a distraction when there was work to be done.

Ignis had gotten much better at reading Prompto over the years, especially once he gave in and accepted that he too had become friends with him, and it was with absolute certainty that Ignis knew Prompto was hiding something from them.

It was something new. Something recent.

And what was more maddening, was that Noctis was in on whatever it was.

“Quit thinking so loud, Iggy,” Gladio grumbled as he sat down in the camp chair next to him.

Ignis couldn't stop thinking about it. He hated secrets. They always found a way to swing around and bite him in the ass when he least expected it, sometimes literally. (Like the time Noct brought home a stray cat and thought he could hide it in the closet.)

“They're hiding something.”

Gladio raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly to where Noctis and Prompto were playing around with the chocobo's they'd rented for their journey through Malmalam Thicket. The pair were trying out new tricks and the large birds seemed content to let them do what they wanted. Gladio turned his gaze back to Ignis, who met his eyes and refused to back down.

He sighed, loudly and heavily, as though his whole evening was ruined by whatever Ignis wanted to talk about. “What makes you think that? They seem normal to me.”

“Are you really telling me that you haven't noticed?” Ignis asked. He thought for sure that the Shield would have picked up on it as well. He was normally so observant.

Gladio just stared at him.

Ignis refused to sigh. He kept his frustration tightly bottled up as he began to explain the oddities he'd noticed over the past few days. “Prompto has not attempted to take a single selfie mid-battle since we left Taelpar, nor has he asked to stop for a photo-op. In fact, I have not seen his camera once since he fell into those ruins. The only pictures he has taken have been with his camera.”

“Well there you go. He either lost it or it got damaged when he was down there. Noct probably offered to get a new one and now he's trying to convince Prompto that it'd be worth the money. Mystery solved,” Gladio said dismissively.

“I doubt it's something so simple.”

“Not everything's complicated, Iggy.” Gladio stretched his arms out over his head and then fully relaxed in his chair. “We'll just take on some extra hunts and get him a new one once we get back to Lestallum.”

But why hide it? Why not tell them something happened to his camera? Was he waiting for them to ask? Ignis had so many more questions, but Gladio made it clear he was done talking by taking out his newest novel to get in some reading before bed. Ignis would just have to mull things over to himself.

There was more to it than the camera, he could feel it.

-----

Prompto just needed a little time to himself, and heading back to the motel room early to take the first shower was the perfect excuse. He knew Noctis would spend at least an hour playing Justice Monsters Five, and Ignis and Gladio were unlikely to leave him there alone. It was too risky, even in an out-of-the-way place like Old Lestallum.

He took care of his shower first, washing away the dirt and grime that accumulated from camping and their trip through Malmalam Thicket. The warm water helped clear his mind as well, leaving him feeling refreshed and looking forward to a good night's sleep.

Prompto wrapped a towel around his waist after drying himself off, figuring he had a little more time before he had to get dressed.

He wiped down the mirror to get a better look at his recent injuries. Most of them were healed thanks to the use of the potions they kept on hand, but there was one that went particularly deep that still twinged when he moved his arm the wrong way. Prompto twisted around to get a better look at his shoulderblade, where there was a faint red line marring the freckles there. He nodded in satisfaction.

As cool as Gladio's scars were, he didn't want any to call his own. The clawmark from the bandersnatch would cause some discoloration for a while, but was well on its way to healing.

Prompto's gaze dropped to his wrists as he turned to face the mirror properly, but as always the sight of ugly black lines on the underside of his right wrist made him quickly look away. He forced his eyes back to the mirror instead.

There was a second face alongside his own.

Prompto screamed and failed his arms as he spun toward the intruder, his mind going blank in panic. He acted purely on instinct, backing up against the sink hard enough to bruise. “What-?! Who-?!”

There was a heavy sigh. “Are all humans this melodramatic? Here I am, gracing you with my divine presence and this is how you choose to greet me?”

Prompto clasped his towel in fear of it falling and revealing far too much of himself to the ancient being. “Rhyos?”

“In the flesh!” The Astral beamed at him, apparently pleased that Prompto remembered his name.

He looked different than before. Gone were the frayed, graying robes and in their place were tight-fitting pants, a red t-shirt, and a thick leather jacket. Heavy boots laced up to mid-calf. His long, dark hair was braided back to keep it out of the way and on top of his head was a pair of sunglasses. If not for the unnaturally bright red eyes, he could have passed as an average hunter.

Rhyos frowned as he looked him up and down, and Prompto flushed under the attention.

“D-do you mind?” he stammered out, gesturing towards the door. He squeaked as Rhyos grabbed his hand, turning it so he could see the barcode. Prompto tried to pull his hand away, but the Astral's grip was firm.

“What is this?” Rhyos asked.

“I don't know. I've had it for as long as I can remember and no one's ever told me what it means, just that I need to keep it covered,” Prompto said, fidgeting nervously.

And honestly, he hadn't wanted to ask. Maybe he did when he was really young, but he didn't remember that and he doubted his parents gave him a straight answer if he did.

Content with the response, Rhyos released him and waved a hand at the door. “Unless you'd prefer we carry on out conversation in here, as lovely as this room is, we should go sit and talk. I imagine you have questions.”

Yes!

Prompto swallowed his first response and nodded instead. “Could I get dressed first.”

Rhyos shrugged as he opened the door and walked through. “If you must.”

Only once the door was shut, did Prompto drop his towel and quickly get dressed. His mind whirled with thoughts. He had a great number of questions, but where should he start? How many could he ask before Rhyos's patience wore out? The Astral's mood was of the mercurial sort – constantly shifting in an almost unpredictable way.

He needed to figure out his most pressing questions, and fast!

But there was only so long he could delay, and Prompto left the bathroom without settling on what he wanted to ask first. Not that it mattered in the end, because his mind went perfectly blank at the sight of Rhyos sitting on one of the bed and examining a very familiar camera.

Rhyos looked up and gave him a fanged grin. “Come! I wish to take a, uh, what is it you kids call it these days? A selfie? Yes, come take a selfie with me!”

Prompto was starting to think the man was messing with him. He couldn't possibly be serious, right? He watched Rhyos pat the bed and lift the camera to an appropriate position.

Yeah. He was serious.

Figuring he had nothing to lose, Prompto joined him and hoped that his smile came across as convincing as Rhyos snapped a few photos in quick succession.

“Perfect,” Rhyos said as he looked them over. “I thank you for allowing me the use of the unusual device. I will admit, it took me time to figure it out, but in my defense, I have been asleep for two-thousand years.”

Prompto blinked in surprise as Rhyos pressed the camera into his hands.

“It is clear that it means a great deal to you, from all of the images that are stored within its memory. It would be a shame to keep it from you any longer,” Rhyos said, his voice unexpectedly full of fondness. “I must say, I am impressed by what humanity has accomplished and rebuilt in these long years, but then again, you mortals have always been the creative sort.”

“Uh, thanks?” Prompto said, unsure of what else to say to that.

Rhyos bowed his head graciously. “Now, where is the Crown of Solheim?”

Prompto carefully set aside his camera and then called up his bag from the armiger. From there, he withdrew the crown and held it out to Rhyos, who took it with gentle reverence.

“It has been a long time since anyone had worn this crown. Not since the dying of a golden age. The last to bear the honor was a young boy, one who I believed destined to change the tides and put things back the way they were meant to be.” Rhyos rubbed his thumb across the sun.

There was a moment of silence before Prompto worked up the courage to ask: “What happened to him?”

“It is not a happy tale, Prompto Argentum,” Rhyos said, turning red eyes onto the mortal next to him. “May I ask, how is it you are able to use the magic granted by Bahamut?”

“Oh, um, it's Noct's magic? He just sort of lets us borrow it?” Prompto had no idea how it all worked. He was sure Ignis had explained it to him at one point in time, but he'd been too excited about the entire event that he hadn't paid attention.

Rhyos tilted his head to one side. “So your body is already accustomed to the use of magic?”

“Uh...?”

“Fascinating,” Rhyos murmured, looking at him with renewed interest. “Tell me, have you experienced anything unusual lately? Dizziness perhaps? Trouble with sleeping?”

Did being sick count? It wasn't something Prompto would consider unusual, even if it left as quickly as it came on. No, that wasn't the answer Rhyos was looking for, and maybe in telling the Astral what he knew, Prompto would get some answers of his own. It was sneakier than he preferred, but it wasn't like Rhyos was answering his direct questions.

“I killed a daemon a few nights ago. There was this light... I still don't know how I did it,” Prompto said.

Rhyos grinned in delight. “That is the first manifestation of your gifts. You've proven yourself worthy of the crown.”

First manifestation.

That meant there was more than just killing daemons with light.

Prompto dropped his head into his hands with a low whine. “This can't be happening. Please tell me I knocked myself out when I fell and this has all just been some kind of hallucination.”

Rhyos reached over and pinched him.

Prompto yelped and jerked his arm away. “What was that for?!”

“To prove you're not dreaming,” Rhyos said simply. “Do you know why I saved you that day?”

“Because you're a kind, merciful god?”

Rhyos chuckled at the sarcastic response and Prompto wanted to sink through the floor. What was he doing, speaking to an Astral in such a casual manner? It had to be blasphemy.

“I locked that place away a long time ago, before the War of the Astrals began. Once, it was a temple. The largest and most decorated in all of Eos, right in the heart of Solheim. A place of worship for mortals, and a palace for the gods to visit when they wished to visit.

“It was a monument treasured by all, right up until it became clear that humanity no longer deserved to walk those jeweled halls,” Rhyos said, staring straight at Prompto as he spoke. “Bahamut himself could not pierce the barrier protecting it, and yet somehow you found your way in. Curiousity, Prompto Argentum, is what led me to save you that say and hand to you the Crown of Solheim.”

“I don't deserve it,” Prompto blurted out. “I'm just a commoner – a pleb – there's gotta be someone else. Someone better than me.”

“Nope.”

Prompto blinked and suddenly there was a warm weight settling on his head. “Wh- hey!”

“There is ancient magic at play here. You will find it easier to wield it the more you wear this crown. And trust me on this, if you wish to help your prince and save him and many other from what Fate awaits them, you will want those gifts the crown has to give.” Rhyos stood up, giving Prompto a good look at the massive bird covering the back of the Astral's leather jacket. It was primarily red and orange, though the long tail feathers and wingtips were painted with a rainbow of colors. “Besides, just think of how much bonding time you'll have with your prince charming while you practice your new abilities.”

Prompto gaped at him. “How did- What? No, Noct is my friend.”

Rhyos turned back to him, one eyebrow raised. “You've taken a great many intimate pictures of him, for someone you consider just a friend.”

He couldn't even deny it.

Prompto ducked his head as heat flooded his cheeks. He'd gotten a little carried away in the early parts of their pseudo-bachelor-party road trip, snapping pictures of Noct peacefully napping or gazing out over the ocean while he fished or laughing with his head thrown back at whatever joke Prompto just cracked. If asked, he figured he could brush it off as wanting to put together a fun wedding gift for Lady Lunafreya, but the thought fled his mind when he was actually confronted about it.

“I am afraid this is when we part ways. Your friends will soon return,” Rhyos said.

“What about your request?” Prompto scrambled to ask, remembering at the last minute that he still didn't know what the Astral wanted.

Rhyos took a few seconds to answer. “Perhaps next we meet.”

And then he was gone.

[janiedean]

the gwendoline christie meet-up of doom recap

... wow it’s been a week and I still hadn’t managed to do it hahahaha ops. okay I hope I haven’t forgotten any details klfjlak anyway HERE HAVE THE FULL-ON RECAP OF THE GWEN CHRISTIE EXPERIENCE OF DOOM.

so: of course the con had to be in dortmund which meant that getting there directly was Not Doable and I had to go to @incblackbird​‘s in belgium first and then take a bus with her to germany and back and guys let me tell you dortmund is a piece of work but it has a very nice subway at least. NOW, as everyone knows if they’ve been around here for more than one month I really have Personal Reasons To Be Into Brienne As A Character and since I was like ‘okay she does a lot less cons than most other got actors so idk if I’ll have a second chance to meet her I’m going all out on this’, instead of going empty-handed as I usually do because I have no imagination for gifts to the actors and I can’t exactly bring them fanfic I figured I’d polish some old meta, maybe write a bit about Brienne’s Importance As Rep For Not Standard Attractive People and give it to her. which was all good but since I also wrote some stuff on jaime and brienne for merel’s cersei book (which then obv. got edited to hell and back to fit that topic XD) I figured ‘heeey I can just put the unedited version in there as well’ aaaand.... then I was like ‘oh well if I went through all of asos then I should also do the jb-related parts in affc’ which added to the brienne-only related introduction ended up.... being..... long around 50k (with quotes of course but still) because of course WHO knows how to be a synthetic person around here? certainly not me. anyway, this was the thing:

(yes the cover is what it is but you don’t even wanna know the levels of GOING TO SLEEP AT THREE AM FOR TWO WEEKS PLUS PRINTING IT THE DAY BEFORE LEAVING that preparing it reached flgdsk)

soooo I’m skipping on organization-related details/trip details because no one needs to know and on saturday I get into the con place with my trusted and updated catelyn cosplay like THIS IS POTENTIALLY THE MOST EMBARRASSING CELEBRITY MEETING MOMENT IN MY EXISTENCE, I go to the panel where someone asked her about how she feels playing someone described as *ugly* in the book and she gave a honestly touching long answer about how she felt like it was a privilege because you don’t get many not-standard-attractive characters, that she wanted the role and she thought actually it wouldn’t be popular because *ugly* female characters aren’t usually popular and that she felt it was important to have more of that variety on tv and I was about like ‘oKAY NOW I KNOW I’LL NEVER SURVIVE THE AUTOGRAPH’. hahaha. soooo I tried to go and get it so we could do the photo op later but obv. the queue was long as hell and I got there just when she left for lunch so I had to do the picture before the autograph, now sadly since there was a long queue you couldn’t exactly do anything too complicated with the pictures but she 100% was lovely to everyone, said hi and goodbye to everyone who came up to her and she totes recognized the cosplay my heart. (also in the panel she said she wanted to resurrect cat BLESS YOU GWEN BLESS YOU.)

aaaand. you can probably see that I was about to go like OMG HOW DO YOU EVEN EXIST YOU’RE TOO MUCH FOR ALL OF US MERE MORTALS but anyway:

sjdgldsjk if I think about it I’m still like HOW DID IT HAPPEN HOW DID I SURVIVE IT. anyway.

after that I go immediately to autograph queue again and like I would like to specify that the queue was insane like there were a lot of people and while I was EXTREMELY happy to see it because your favorite getting long lines is always an extremely good thing I also was kinda worried they’d cut things short same as they did with the photo op and I wouldn’t have complained if they had because I totally get it was a lot of people but ANYWAY. I queue again (while @incblackbird was also there and probably being extremely amused at my distress), I get there, I miraculously don’t faint the moment we make eye contact (could have happened tbh) aaaand I go like ‘okay about that thing you said at the panel before when it came to representation, HMMMM I’ve got to tell you something’ and thank fuck no one stopped me, I managed to more or less tell her that I read the books before season two and I really had a not so mild case of relating to brienne because of shared life experience and I was really hoping that the show would find an actress who’d make justice to the character and she one hundred per cent delivered on that and then I probably went into a string of embarrassing compliments while still trying to sound like a reasonable human being (count that I hadn’t had time for lunch or anything so I was running on adrenaline lmao) aaaaand...... she answered going more in-depth about the stuff she said before in the morning for... a good five minutes actually? I mean we definitely talked about it and she said the same things except more one on one obv. and she also said that she had read the book and realized What She Was Representing but she wasn’t sure people would grasp it and I was like NOOOOO DON’T WORRY SOME OF US DEFINITELY DID and honest she really took the time to talk to me when there was a really long queue behind us and it wasn’t basic niceties - like I’ve done enough signings at cons to grasp the difference and it definitely wasn’t, I left her a copy of that meta in the middle of all of this and she was like ‘for one I wasn’t expecting for people to be as much into brienne to actually do this kinda thing’ or something like that and she also signed my copy... with the goddamned golden pen like after I show it to two people they go like ‘aw how cute she used the lannister pen’ and I was like ‘..................... LMAO I WAS SO STARSTRUCK I DIDN’T NOTICE’ ops /embarrassment anyway at some point saint merel goes like (because I had totally forgotten) ‘btw she came all the way from italy just to see you’ and she was like ‘WAIT REALLY OH WOW THANK YOU’ and I was like ‘NO THANK YOU IT WAS ABSOLUTELY WORTH IT’ aaand we shook hands and I left after some good five minutes I think which is... kinda more than I ever talked with anyone in an autograph line in my entire life lol honestly I was just glad I didn’t end up doing something terribly embarrassing like dunno getting too emotional but thankfully I didn’t and it was honestly... really the best autograph experience I’ve had I think? or better time #1 with alfie allen also was great but I wasn’t exactly you know discussing stuff that was personally affecting me so yeah haha that was it and she was absolutely worth getting there and back and this woman is too good for this world and yeah. best idea I ever had tbh or top ten ideas I ever had a+ would re-do it in ten seconds.

(if anyone’s interested in the lannister pen autograph:

... aaand okay that was it when it came to gwen because she had no panels the next day and I used up both picture and autograph on day one but again, 100% worth it would re-do it immediately and she’s the best and yeah I’m still like DID IT HAPPEN and it’s been a week. she’s the best okay? k.

(also, someone’s already asked, so if anyone wants to know if I’m planning to share that meta: the ending was polished stuff that’s already on tumblr, I’m planning on posting the first part on here because it’s a question of principle and the rest I need to re-elaborate because at this point I might just throw in catelyn as well and do a full-on brienne text analysis idk but anyway at some point I’ll make it surface somewhere uu)

[satire-please]

Fight...NO WAIT DON’T!

Summary: When fights get personal between Ra's and Tim? They get...personal in more ways than one. (Realistic established relationship Ra’sTim)

Can also find my story here on Ao3.

Love confessions are the worst when you’re trying to kill each other.

Or maim.

Whatever, take your pick.

There’s three types of fights Tim gets into with Ra’s.

The first is the kind they both enjoy. It’s the classical cat chases mouse, Holmes and Moriarty, scenario. With clues in the dark, puzzles to solve, and explosions that are gorgeous. The stakes aren’t high except for the convenient ‘allies’ Ra’s puts in Tim’s path to mow down in righteous fury. He knows he’s the sharpest tool in Ra’s’ shed, better than any shadow that swears loyalty to the demon head when the League of Assassins has undue...competition. Tim would be more pissed at being used but the millions of ill-gotten dollars he sets on fire tends to make up for it. Another pet project bites the dust. Plus, he swears Ra’s only has to sigh about how plebeian it is for those new upstarts to employ means like children and drugs...and it doesn’t take much after that for Tim to hop a jet and make those bastards burn. International prisons have never been so full.

Sometimes it’s better than roses and chocolate. But don’t tell Ra’s that.

Behind door number 2 is the general good-versus-evil venue. Where massive groups of underground evil organizations band together for another ‘Hey, let’s rule the world or end it’ party, and, you know, the Justice League has to crash that. When that happens, Tim practically always waves at Ra’s when both groups line-up to strike a pose. The mayhem makes for the best photo op.

They have enough time to throw out a, “When the world is new, my love, you will behold the grandeur of paradise.”

“Aw, Ra’s, I thought paradise was whenever you were with me?”  

Elsewhere a teenage voice demands, “Grayson, fetch me one of those disposable bags, I require one immediately.”

“Too late,” A retching sound commences, “I used the last one.”

Then they all pick a partner and dance. Once again, Tim’s date is someone three times his size or a glob monster. In the corner of his eye, he watches B and Ra’s viciously strike and dodge. Is able to catch the moment Ra’s mouths his name. The only expressions Batman wears in the cowl is stone wall and displeased stone wall with something pointy. Drifting between the shouts and yells of the crowds Tim can hear Ra’s laugh, and if he wasn’t making sure he doesn’t turn into pancake Red Robin, he’d notice B landing his hits harder. Stronger. More biting. More permanent.

But in this fight Ra’s and Tim don’t engage. In fact, since they’ve become lovers they don’t even spar because it’s not a good idea to play show-and-tell with their best moves...or their new ones.  

After all, they might need them for the third kind of fight, the fight where it’s personal.

Now, everyone has their happy triggers. For Tim, it’s don’t mess around with his city and his family.

For Ra’s, it’s the pits.

So tonight, in the present, when the event planner announces the keynote speaker, when the crowd goes wild, when the spotlight descends on one figure in muted green and gold, Tim knows exactly what kind of fight it’s going to be.

And it’s going to hurt.  

He winces when he feels more than sees Bruce stiffen at his side. It was just supposed to be “Support the Green” gala damn it.

The statue doesn’t get better with every word that Ra’s projects to the crowd, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I do not believe I could have hoped for a better reception in Gotham than this. You honor me. Tonight, I’m pleased to announce a project that has been in the making for years. An innovative way to clear the air, not only for you to breathe more than the smog that accosts your lungs, but clear a pathway to the stars themselves.” A round of thunderous applause and Tim hands his and B’s glass of untouched wine to the waiter. He carefully palms the side of one and hopes the caterer doesn’t notice the small crack on Mr. Wayne’s.

Ra’s takes his time outlining the project, spinning a web for the audience that traps them in their enthusiasm. The Air Oasis is basically an air filter on steroids. Each unit is almost the size of a car, about fifty of them could be placed strategically around the city for a maximum effect. The machines would suck in every pollutant through the use of magnetics and a chemical of his own design. Tim mimics B, his whole body going going numb at that notion since gee, what chemical or mysterious green substance could the man be speaking about? Then the Air Oasis machines would pump the recycled oxygen back into the city.

“Imagine strolling among the streets and in the place of refuse’s smell and filth, you are overcome with crisp, pure oxygen filling your senses instead?” The man gives a grand gesture.

Behind him when the projector screen is flooded with the Air Oasis design, Tim speaks into his lapel, “Babs, are you seeing this? Can you hack the feed and download the filter’s blueprint? There’s no way the fruitcake isn’t planning something.”

“On it, I’ll send you the analysis immediately once I pick it apart and check every screw.”

Tim whispers earnestly, “You are the most perfect badass I know, O.”

“You’re a liar, but flatter me more. I deserve it.”

“You’re beautiful and Dick never deserved you.”

She snorts in his ear lightly. “Of course he didn’t, that’s why we broke up.”

“And every night his pillow is wet with bitter tears,” he hisses back.

Oracle softly giggles and says, “He’ll have to cry harder than that to get me back. Send you that data soon, just stay on your toes and avoid dark corners with your wicked paramour. I’ll be watching and judging you. O out.”

Tim doesn’t have the heart to tell her Ra’s doesn’t mind having an audience. In fact, as the applause gets louder more people rush to the men at the side, giving their ‘donations’ to the project. Ra’s thrives from it.

The moment the demon’s speech is done, the deafening support on the ‘green’ idea established (which is going to be bitch to sabotage because Ra’s isn’t doing this from the shadows ironically...he’s doing this in the open, getting the public’s rapport so Tim can just foresee the PR nightmare) the two vigilantes wait. They don’t rush the man, but let him saunter from person to person to give his poisoned honey out. Their eyes glued on him, Brucie turning into Bruce turning into the Bat as he gets closer and closer until finally the criminal stands before him.  

He is not alone. Next to Ra’s is the most intimidating woman Tim has ever met besides his mother (don’t tell her he said that). Talia.

Tim gives the first volley, “Why do I think you’re not here just to see me in a suit?”

“You do look fetching, no ravishing, in that attire, my love,” Ra’s purrs, his eyes roving over Timothy’s delightful form, “but you are correct. I am not.”

Tim won’t admit it, but Ra’s doesn’t look half bad either. The black suit is fitted to his broad shoulders, delicate highlights of his trademark colors running through the fabric. Beside him Talia floats in brilliant green to match. Long gloves cover the scars she’s earned on her arms, while finery and gems makes her skin glisten.

“What are you doing here?” Brucie’s voice breaks into a growl, unable to keep his lighthearted persona now that the Demon is in his presence.

“Since you so enjoy traipsing through my territory, destroying my property, destroying my pits, four of my—” The assassin’s demeanor cracks a little, his wrath bleeding through for a second until that mouth curls into smirk, “I thought it best to return the favor and find time to appreciate what’s yours.”

“What are you planning.” It’s a demand, not a question.

“If you are unable to uncover the truth on your own, then you are not the detective I once called you.”

The Bat lurches forward, but Tim steps between them, placing a hand on B’s chest to push him back an inch. B looms like the biblical Goliath, dwarfing him (completely unfair), but Tim tilts his head and gives a brilliant smile, “But he does have someone you call ‘Detective’ now. I’m sure with the both of us, past and future sleuths, your plan doesn’t stand a chance.”

“We shall see, beloved.” He beckons to Talia. “But, for now, we shall find ways to enjoy the company of others. All too soon it will be end of this godforsaken city. Daughter, perhaps you could dance with your detective while I speak to mine?”

“Yes, Father. Habibi?” Talia reaches and trails her fingers down Bruce’s sleeve. “Join me for a song or two. We have much to discuss.”

Bruce twists his head to his charge. “Tim.”

“Go, I’ll be fine.”

Bruce continues to glance backwards as Talia leads him to the dance floor. His face thunderous as Ra’s gets closer and closer to his son until they’re barely an inch apart.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what, my love?” Greedily, Ra’s takes Tim’s wrist and rubs a thumb over his pulse. Steady, unafraid...incredible.

“You know he hates when you play the perverted creep.”

“Yet I have not done anything to warrant such a reputation.” Ra’s says mockingly, interlocking their fingers together. “Perhaps that should change. Please, this way. I’ve been told the gardens are most lovely.”

“You are the worst.” But Tim does nothing when Ra’s places his other hand on his lower back. Does nothing against that press as they move further from the crowd to the more...secluded setting. Outside of the pavilion, the rooftop garden is simple but elegant. You have to be rich (or Poison Ivy) to grow anything in this city. It is also speckled with a few benches and alcoves like the one Ra’s pulls him into.

There the Demon head gives in to hunger and finally wraps his lover in his arms. It’s been far too long since he’s held his Timothy. In the night, the music plays faintly in the background and it’s sentimental surely, but there is a definite moment or two where they sway back and forth.

Ra’s takes a deep breath and sighs, “How I long to dance with you in public.”

“And ruin my carefully maintained persona?” Tim raises an eyebrow. “How about no?”

Yet they still dance for the whole song, Ra’s turning them slightly before they add anything.

“I thought we had an agreement. I keep an open mind about ‘certain’ things while you keep your stupid green cape out of Gotham. So why are you here?”

“Because I have allowed too many insults to go unchecked. Thanks to the Bat,” Ra’s spat, “too much of my empire has been reduced to ash without any sign of my displeasure. The time for retribution is now.”

“I destroy your stuff all the time.” Tim points out.

“Yet you tend to leave the secret of my immorality alone, dearest. It was not you that inspired my wrath last month. It was not you who has limited my resources to three pits.”

No. But Tim did give the locations to Bruce when he asked. He also knows very well exactly what kind of firepower that’s needed to destroy a pit for good. He swallows and says nothing, looking away from the man.

“What do the machines actually do, Ra’s?” If Tim can just get a clue, a detail, anything to guess what’s to come, then he’ll have a better chance.

A dark laugh. Well that can’t be good. “I assure you, the filtration units perform their designed function, nothing more. They will filter this wretched air your disgusting city has polluted and leave only oxygen in its place. They will cleanse this city from its filth. Perhaps you will thank me when the progress is finished, my dear.”

“Don’t count on it.” He makes a note to check the machine’s blueprints himself when O is done with them. He’s going to stop him. No matter what, Tim is going to stop him. “Whatever you are planning, it’ll never work.”

“On the contrary, already the fools inside have agreed to install the units on the morrow. In hours—” Ra’s stops and breaks into a tense quirk of a smile, “And already you have me monologuing, for shame my lips are too loose around you.”

“It’s not my fault you love to talk.” Damn. A line or two more could have been vital. But Tim notes his own bad habits, how it doesn’t faze him at all as Ra’s manhandles him to have his back against a brick wall. How the assassin’s arms cage him there and Tim doesn’t feel threatened at all...yeah, he should get that checked out.

“My mouth loves to do many things when it’s around you,” Ra’s mutters, his thumb coming up to rub at the bottom lip that calls to him. “Tell me, beloved, will you hate me when I win?”

Tim doesn’t even miss a beat, “I don’t know, will you hate me when you lose?” He crosses his arms in challenge. His forearms brush against the other with how little space there is between them.

Ra’s stares into those eyes, so pretty and oh so sure and chuckles bitterly. “Let us see what the fates decide.”

“No conscious effort on our parts?” Tim states wryly, but let his cheek rest in that palm. “No chance of you backing down if I ask nicely?”

“I calculate the same probability if I begged you to stay uninvolved.”

So zero, “Fuck.”

“Indeed...would you do if I told you there a jet ready to take you away? Would you leave before destruction leaves none in its path? Or stay to be numbered with the dead?”

“Who says there’s going to be any dead? Who says that your scheme won’t be destroyed, like it always is, instead? What, you think I’m going to go easy on you just because I like you? Don’t kid yourself, when I’m done with you your ninjas will have to scrape you off the dirty sidewalk.”

There’s a sharp intake, a gasp, and for a second Tim thinks his words have some effect. And they have, but it’s not the threat that has Ra’s fingers digging into his jaw, dragging Tim up against him. Tim shoots out his arms to brace himself, yet their chests smush together as Ra’s other arm coils tightly around him.

“Why I believe that’s the first time you’ve admitted any sort of fondness for me...how wildly unfortunate to reveal your affections now.” The green of those eyes darken and Tim’s flinch gives his surprise away. Is it really the first time?

“Is it? Well, I’ve always been more of a man of action.” He starts to pry the hand off his face, but Ra’s isn’t having it. The digits just slide through Tim’s hair to the base of his skull and pulls. Tim winces as the man directs his head until their lips lightly touch. He even needs to stand on his toes because Ra’s is a special kind of tall bastard.

Ra’s mouth twists into a smirk against beloved’s, the sensation divine. “This is true. Your actions, your body...has always been so loud.”

And he begins to take.

Their kisses always start soft.

Like a trap, each movement is gentle bait. Easing into the rhythm of hunger, as their lips slide against each other. Ra’s wants his lover frantic, desperate but it takes patience. Patience to wait, to seduce, to build the desire until they can’t stand any option other than being absolutely consumed.

It is the patience 800 years has rewarded him with.

Though with Timothy it is a cycle that feeds into each other, as the Detective’s demeanor finally melts, his own cravings become more ravenous.

Tim tilts his face up to gasp, yet Ra’s chases that mouth, chases that opening to use his tongue and taste. Tim’s legs buckle a little and Ra’s grips one hip tight to compensate. Soon he will need to wrap those coltish legs around his waist. It is where they belong.

A sharp pain, Ra’s rears back an inch to groan. He tongues the small cut on his lower lip and purrs. “Beloved, there are other ways to paint your lips red.”

Tim’s eyes are half-lidded, bored. One of Ra’s fingers, his pinky, rests on a pulse that tells Ra’s the truth. That the detective’s heart has started to race. “But you like it when I do it this way the most.”

Ra’s burns. He does not know whose breath it is that rings so harshly in his ears. Who crashes their lips together harder first. Yet the iron from his blood is an excellent spice to this meal. He could get addicted in how one of Timothy’s arms comes over his shoulder to claw at his pressed suit. Could get lost in the quiet mewl that invokes Ra’s’ darkest determination to make into a scream—

Could get lost...Oh his clever, clever beloved.

“Are you are a distraction, my precious?” Ra’s snarls angrily, he jerks Timothy’s face to the side for a deeper, more exposed angle, as if he could devour this alluring creature whole. “A horrible.” suck. “wonderful.” kiss. “distraction?”

Meanwhile Tim is just trying to hold on, thanks.

“B-Bitch, I might be. But what are you going to do, oh great Demon Head? Are you going to let yourself be distracted, is it going to be worth it?” Tim’s breath comes fast with the challenge. So he never does anything for one reason. So what? The longer he can give Babs time to decode or Bruce to wring out intel with Talia...the better. The longer he can keep Ra’s focus on him and not his ‘plan,’ the better. The longer he can feel this...with him, the better. His thumb comes up to pop open the top button of his shirt, teasing his lover with a flash of collarbone through the gap. Ra’s cannot resist. The proof that Timothy is his has faded there and it’s unacceptable.

“Do not tempt me,” he cautions as he buries his face into that throat. His teeth already coming out to play.

“I t-think ah, I can handle it, thanks.”

Tim gives a little hop and naturally Ra’s drops his hands to help him. He clutches Tim under his thighs, which should be bare not loathsomely covered, to hoist him up, half reclining against the wall, half wrapped up around the assassin. It puts Tim’s head above his and frees up his hands to roam while Ra’s’ are occupied.

Ah, well he supposes the detective enjoys the chance of being tall. “I wonder what exactly I have let into my bed?”

“You mean the bed you practically blackmailed me into?”

“Only at first, my love. After all, I did not use any means to lure you there the second time, nor every time after that.”

Tim huffs stiffly, decides to do some marking of his own. He nudges Ra’s face out of the way and worries at the tendons of his neck, sucking hard, intending to bruise with the slight.

Timothy is so precious when he’s spiteful.

“It is as if we are Aesop’s frog and scorpion.”

“You and your stupid stories, ” Tim grits out, but it turns into a moan when Ra’s squeezes his hands on his ass.

“Now, now, you enjoy my stories. One day the scorpion begged the frog to cross river. The frog attempted to refuse out of fear, of that stinger gleaming wet in the sun. Yet the scorpion only rationalized that if he did sting the frog during the swim then both would die. Convinced, the frog began to cross the river, scorpion upon its back—”

“Let me guess, this fable doesn’t have a happy ending?” He’s helpless to the hands on his ass, the mouth moving against his collarbone, all of it makes his hips jerk against Ra's.

“—Yet once halfway across, the scorpion stung the frog mercilessly. As the two drown, the stunned, poisoned frog cries ‘Why?’ to the scorpion.”

“Called it.” Tim pulls back to blow on the hickey in the making, rolls with Ra’s’ shiver and attempts to not react when Ra’s returns the favor. He fails. Especially when Ra’s starts to open up the rest of his shirt with his teeth, revealing more sensitive pale skin that Ra’s loves, needs to play with. Tim squirms when the warm mouth finds his nipple and flicks it with tongue. “A-And what did the—ah—scorpion’s say, Ra’s?”

“He replied, ‘Because I cannot resist my nature,’ and attacked the frog again and again until both were well under the waves. He was a scorpion and that is what scorpions do...they sting. So tell me, beloved...which of us is the frog? And which the scorpion?”

And Tim manages to muffle the plea in the demon’s throat. The one crawling, scraping to escape with mangled, ‘Please. P-please don’t do this. Stop. Don’t hurt my city. Don’t hurt my people.’ But the fable has a point, and it’s not fair of him to ask. Not when Ra’s won’t deliver and neither have convictions that bend or bow.

So while his mind turns with plans and next moves, with contingencies to try countering his insane significant other's maniacal plot-in-progress, Tim just drags Ra’s back to his lips and makes his kisses hurt, makes them sting and sting and sting . Because if this is the last time he can have any part of the man he took as his lover, then it’s best to make their mouths swollen and ruined.

Tim will remember him better that way.

“Oh Ra’s...you know the answer to that. We’re both of them.”

Some heroes are not needed.

Like Dick Grayson riding in out of nowhere to drag him out of Ra's arms. How he takes no time to get one hand on the back of Tim’s suit and pull.  Dick half-drags, half-carries him down the stairwell, and Tim is this close to punching him in the face. Those perfect teeth are begging to be ruined. The man’s hand around his wrist is like iron but it doesn’t stop Tim from mentally going over every technique he knows of how to break bones. Half of the buttons on his shirt are undone, the open fabric flapping as they race down to the car. Tim doesn’t bother fixing it, he’ll change out of his civilian day-wear soon enough. Luckily for him, he’d carried and stored the suit nearby, always. Better to thwart your evil plots with, my dear.

“This way!”

“I had it, Dick. No ‘rescue’ necessary.”

“No rescue necessary?” Dick stops for a moment to wildly gesture at him. Pointing at the red marks littering Tim’s skin, he even lets go of the arm to fuss over clothes until Tim smacks his fingers. “Tim, you look like you were mauled by a lion.”

“It was a sexy lion. Did B send you? I told him I was going to be fine.” He glances backwards, wondering if Ra’s is with the rest of the crowd pretending to be impressed with the last event, or if he’s at the top of the emergency stairwell, eyes hungry and dark.

“Wait, are you mad that I stopped you on the roof?”

“No.” Yes. It’s complicated. Even though the Bats have a long history, almost a long freaking tradition of trysts on top of buildings. Even though Tim is a perfectly legal, consenting adult with a tie, a tie that Tim had plans for and didn’t get to use, dammit. Maybe he could have used it to gag the man after he promised, ‘If tonight is our last, I shall not rest until pleasure overwhelms you. Until all you can do is sob and keen my name.’ Though, it does puts Tim in the very awkward position of trying to have sex with someone that’s doing his best to kill his family...It’s complicated. It’s always been.

He’s a pot surrounded by kettles. Just taste the ash and call it good. Really what Tim has done, is still doing, is mild on the bat spectrum.

He’s never killed anyone.

He’s never slept around, making notches on his belt with vigilante and enemy alike.

It’s just the one. This one relationship that’s ironically healthier compared to what their little family’s been through. It’s consistent. Adoring, smothering, and respectful. The man is a liar, but he’s never lied to Tim about the way he feels.

It’s more than he can say for rest of the Bats.

But it’s probably better this way. Better that the person with the dick joke in his name stopped them, cockblocked the two before the rest of the guests wandered outside for the fireworks display.

‘Why should that matter, Mr...Grayson? The shadows hide us well and the fireworks would cover up your brother’s delicious cries.’

Dick lunged at Ra’s for those words.

It’s fine.

“Timmy…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Tim grits his teeth. “Let’s just focus on the here and now.”

Dick grabs a shoulder before they hit the street. “You know I care, right? I just don’t want you to get hurt. I–”

“I know.” He knows the others think him compromised. He knows they care, they just don’t trust that he can get things done anyway. “Now get out there and take care of some ninja scum for us. I’ll see you back in the cave.”

Dick squeezes tightly, his mouth a thin line but nods. “See you there, little brother.” He hands Tim what he needs and turns to the police car parked on the street.

The vigilante sighs. A car door shuts in the background, but his head tilts up to the sky blooming in color. It’s a shame. It’s sort of romantic. The kind you find in movies, books, and songs. It might have been nice...to watch them together with his lover. His bangs swing to shake the sentiment out of his head and then he gets to work.

“Talk to me, O,” as the Ducati vibrates between his thighs.

Leaving the presentation with his body throbbing and unsatisfied was really not how he’d hoped to end the night, but still, he’s got a nefarious plot to stop.

“It’s mechanical engineering only,” is the reply through his comm while he hangs a sharp right and the spot on his collar bone aches for more touch. “The machine is going to work pretty well considering we don’t know exactly what’s going to be powering it.”

Well, fuck.

“So how he plans to use to the Pit on Gotham and to what ends,” is his grim summation.

“Right on the money. To his credit, it is a filtration system, but without more details on his ‘mystery element,’ we have no idea what chemical could be pumped out. It could be a form of the Lazarus Pit, but I really doubt Ra’s al Ghul is trying to make half of Gotham pretty much immortal.”

Numbly, Red is already planning on where he needed to break-in to get the missing component, how he’d need to get into the warehouse on Dixon Dock to check out Ra’s little chemical lab.

“Can’t you send the digital copy to my wrist computer? I’ve got some leads to check out, but I can give them a look-see while N is kicking in some faces.”

She hums over comm, “You got it, Baby Bird. Try not to let your boyfriend kill off our city.”

Tim guns the bike, revving it to go faster, harder. “What? You afraid I’ll steal the title of worst break-up in the family? Bruce has to lose his place eventually Babs, Red out.”

Ra’s chemical lab by the water is unlocked. Which by all means should be a sign with showgirls and feathers that it’s a big trap...only there’s nothing there. Sure there’s examples of pit water and an assortment of goodies that would make any of Gotham’s rouge gallery squeal with fiendish delight, but nothing Tim can use. Or anyone to beat up. Tim is a bit miffed about that. Okay, cross that out, he’s pissed as hell because there’s not even a single guard, not even a scrap of black fluttering in the corners for a ninja to say ‘hi.’

How rude.

Meeting his eye, there’s only neat rows of tables, beakers, and the same designs that Ra’s presented to the Gala. Oh and a note. Folded neatly in an open envelope with Tim’s full name on it in gorgeous calligraphy.

Because Ra’s is a magnificent bastard.  

Tim snatches it up and his fingers crinkle the page as he unfolds it in hurried movements. The green ink, because everything’s in green (honestly he should introduce Ra’s to Ivy, they have so much in common), is glossy to the touch and there’s a hint of spice that Tim’s recognizes as Ra’s scent immediately. Chai and cloves. Madder than ever, he tells himself not to rip the possible evidence just because he’s memorized the way Ra’s smells.  

My Dear Beloved,

Why would you need break into a kingdom that is already yours? When have I denied you access to my labs and systems? You possess all the keys yet that shall not save your city.

There is a boat at the dock with my insignia.

Forget your mission, it is futile. Leave this place before it is too late. I will be...displeased if the next time I hold you, it is your corpse I must cradle.

Respecting your stance on using the pit is infuriating. See reason and abandon your mentor, my Love.

Leave.

What do you know? He does end up ripping the paper in fascinating, tiny pieces. It’s like snow. It’s barely satisfying.

They’re on the clock. He races to his bike, blares through the night to check every other hidey-holes Tim knows Ra’s has. One hour becomes two, three, and a dejected Tim returns to the cave to see Bruce pacing the floor. The filter’s plans are blown up on every screen they have.

They don’t crack the mystery that night.

And it takes too long for them to figure it out.

The first ones to get sick are animals.

Despite the lack of support from WE, filters pop up everywhere like some crazy rich fad. Like magic or IKEA, the machines are put together in under an hour and there’s fifty of them. B dots them on the map, but there’s no pattern, it really is randomly spread out as some are placed in the slums as acts of charity, others are set up on the top of wealthy estates like solar panels. Of course, the first Bat response is to monitor the heck out of them. Within minutes, Tim creates a detector that inspects the filters output every twenty minutes like clockwork and Tim pumps them out so N, Robin, and B can slap every filter with one.

“I just don’t understand.” Weary but his nerves keep him upright to stare at the screen, Tim forces sleep deprivation to work for him like the bitch it is. His hand absentmindedly pats the table for the coffee cup just in case. Is it caffeine or frustration that’s making him twitchy? “I’m getting nothing. Nothing but oxygen. What is the pit water even being used for?”

B leans over his shoulder and taps on the central mechanism of the design. “Perhaps to power the whole thing?”

“Maybe, but it’s not doing anything. What if it’s all just a distraction? What if our attention is being completely wasted while somewhere else Ra’s is—”

There’s a loud buzz overhead and Bruce flips the call to broadcast the call into the cave, “B here, report.”

“Father. There is a terrifying decrease in the animal population in Block 4.” Damian’s voice has a small tremor and for the young boy...that’s practically a scream of distress. “I have already contacted vets and animal hospitals in every vector of Gotham and yet I keep finding…this.”

B connects to Damian’s video feed, it appears that Robin’s in an alley of some kind. It’s a long one, and from Damian’s feet all the way to the back are cats and dogs, no strays all curled up on their side as if in sleep.

But their eyes are open and plastic-looking. Their mouths wide, tongues and contents of their stomach spewed out on the gravel. It’s a nightmare perfectly designed for the kid.

“Robin, return to headquarters immediately. You don’t have to—”

“All pet owners I have questioned also report that the health of their animals have declined. It does not matter where in the city, yet creatures that are kept deep inside of their residences appear to be affected the least.” From the camera, they watch green gloves carefully, gently pick up one of the carcasses. “It must be from those vile contraptions. They must be destroyed.”

“D...Robin,” Tim tries, “There’s nothing new being pumped in the air. I’ve tried, analyzed everything we have on file, and no chemical components have been released into the atmosphere.”

“Tch. No matter. I must check to see if any of these animals can be hospitalized. Red will you relay to the public to keep their pets indoor?”

Tim hacks away at phone lines, creating an automatic text response that will appear on every electronic device in Gotham. “Of course, Robin.”

“...Thank you. Father, keep me updated, I shall return shortly.”

And he does.

In Red Hood’s arms far too pale, far too clammy and rasping.

“Special delivery.” Jason hauls the figure onto a medibed. “Wish it was a better one.”

All the air is punched out Tim’s lungs at the sight of the limp Robin. He can’t breathe and his body jerks towards B and Dick. The two appear to be in the same boat.

“What, Dami—” Dick starts.

“Get him hooked up immediately,” B growled, “I want to know his vitals now!”

Everyone rushes to obey.

Tim snatches the IVs, while Dick and Bruce hover over the bed like vultures, silent to hear the shallow breathing of the boy better. The monitor pops up with symptoms; varying levels of lung damage, nausea, retina damage, and—

Damian heaves of the bed, his limbs violently spasming as Dick goes into complete panic mode.

Seizures.

“Where did you find him?” Tim asks Jason, walking back at the map of filter locations again. Scanning at the interior design of the machines again. Doing everything he’d already done over again, because he’s missing something. What is he missing? Yes, he can definitely tell that Bruce’s hunch was right, the pit water is running the filter, but not only that. It’s amplifying it. But amplifying what?  

“Alfred, we need you down here.”

Gruffly Jason answers, “Found ‘im at Main and Cobbler. Found ‘im like that too, lying on the street like roadkill.” He stuffs his hands in his pocket all cool, but Tim catches the tell.

“He might not be the only one either,” O solemnly says over the coms, on Tim’s wrist computer, the reports she sends fill him with shocked horror. Security cams of kids being rushed to the emergency room, their parents with tear-streaked faces as doctors frantically rush to and fro.

“Alfred, I need you now!”

“I’ll get ‘im.” Jason yells, his boots ringing loudly on the stairs up to the manor.

“O,” Tim’s voice is quiet, disconnected. “How many cases...No, how many victims are there so far?”

A pause, two. “Currently? There is a hundred and sixty-four reported cases that have been admitted to the hospital. Most are in critical condition, but doctors are doing everything they can and, unlike the animals, it seems like there’s been no fatalities yet.”

“Good.” Tim takes a deep breath through his nose. “That’s good.”

“We have a fucking problem here!” Jason screeches, he’s back with Alfred.

Actually let Tim rephrase that, on Jason’s back is Alfred. Fuck. That is less good. Tim is not the praying type, but when Jason drags over another gurney to strap Alfred in? The pallor in the older gentleman highlighted by his blurry unfocused eyes? Tim prays. His knees buckling but his grip on the computer table keeps him from crashing to the floor.

‘Ra’s. Please Ra’s, no. Don’t take them away from him. Don’t do this.’

But he knows somewhere Ra’s is watching, the Demon Head drinking in the destruction of the city he hates. Somewhere a ninja is disclosing exactly how much his attack stings. How effective his poison is as the Bat leans over two of the most important people in his life, the oldest and youngest and breaks.

Tim wishes and prays for things he can’t have.

“Get up, we’re gonna wreck these trash cans, right? Right, Babybird?” Jason says, roughly yanking Tim away from the computer to the motorcycles in the back. The Red Hood’s trembling becomes more pronounced at finding another family member at death’s door. “Look, it’s Occam's razor. Simplest way to take outta bitch. Who cares what they’re doing to the air? We smash the things and poof they’re outta the picture n’ we’re back ta normal.”

“It would stop whatever process they’re doing,” Tim rationalizes, “But, Jason, whatever is in the air affecting people is still there.”

“I don’t care. N. N! Dammit, Dick, get your bubble ass over here.” Jason takes control and Nightwing slowly turns to the two, his face wet and gone. “Let’s go huntin’. Let’s fuck these things up. You’d like that, huh?”

Nightwing expression transforms into a feral snarl. “ Yes I would. Let’s.”

“B, you stay here and keep treating those two.” Tim grabs his helmet and straddles the bike. “Keep looking at the files, keeping looking for what we’re missing. It’s got to be there somewhere.”

“Somewhere...right. We need a new approach. This is not like Ra’s. He’s switching it up. Switching from his usual elaborate style with bits of clues bleeding all over the place.” B replies tersely, losing that haunted look momentarily. His heads steady as he makes Alfred and Damian as comfortable as possible. “The only thing we’re finding is just oxygen.”

It’s at that second it crashes into Tim. It’s just oxygen.

‘The filtration units perform their designed function, nothing more. They will filter this wretched air your disgusting city has polluted and leave only oxygen in its place.’

It’s just oxygen.

“Oh. my. god. It’s exactly what it says on the label,” Tim whispers stunned. “It was right there in front of us, of course it was, that inhumane, diabolical, waste of—”

“Tim? Come on, we’ve some things to trash, no time to get lost in yer head.”  

For the first time in fourteen hours, Tim grins wildly at the Bat’s around him, “Then let me share with the class.”

Tim has a plan.

And damn it feels good.

At the climax, Red Robin ends up with a dislocated knee and three cracked ribs. The blood dripping from his nose streams down his chin as Ra’s shakes him repeatedly. The villain holding him high off the ground as each word is punctuated by the grip on the uniform collar.

“You. Infuriating. Insufferable. Pest.”

“You fucking—“ cough “—love me.”

“You ruined everything!”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

Alfred and Damian are safe. Gotham is safe. Nightwing and Jason took out filters like moms at a 75% off sale and fun fact, did you know that pure oxygen is bad for you? Sure, we need it to breathe, but too much high pressure oxygen can give the same side effects sick scuba divers have.

Plus, it can kill you.

Solution: pump some sweet carbon dioxide at the same rate Ra’s super filters pump oxygen to balance it out and voila no more oxygen poisoning for you. Who handled that? Brucie. Not the Bat, but Bruce freaking Wayne, who contacted WE with a little help from O, and all factories were a go. Just in time, since exposure to pure oxygen for over sixteen hours can cause permanent lung damage and death and guess who confronted Ra’s juuuuuuust to stop him from turning up the filtration levels so the carbon dioxide couldn’t work? Guess who took out Ra’s’ remote control system that synced up the machines? Guess who stopped the oxygen plague at fifteen hours and forty-two minutes?

“How dare you!”

You’re looking at him, baby.

Around them, the building is in shambles, the extra filtration unit was cheating, Ra’s, but hey they’re on the ground floor with no windows for the man to kick Tim through so score. True, his body is a limp, useless lump, but spite keeps him smug and victorious. He hopes the muscles in his face are working enough to convey that. It must have since Ra’s expression twists in absolute fury. “How dare you deny my vengeance! How dare you continue to get in my way over and over again—”

“—Then end it, you bastard.” Tim forces his eyes crack open to meet Ra’s burning glare. “You g-got me right where you want me, don’t you?”

“I wanted you far from here!” he hisses at him. “I wanted you miles away in my keep, safe and sound and mine.”

“Tough fucking luck, you want to stop me? Then kill me, Darling.” Tim moves his arms to scratch hard at Ra’s wrists, drawing blood before grab them tightly. Anything to take a little of the weight so he can breathe a little more, speak a little more, because he’s not done yet. He’s actually impressed that Ra’s can hold him up, he’s sure he broke at least two of those fingers. The demon’s trap is such a pain to evade after all. “You want to win your stupid games? Then stop playing and break my neck. You’ve said it yourself, I’m a detective. I figure out all your plans and foil them because newsflash that’s what detectives do. So here you go, the perfect opportunity to end me, end me like the annoying, persistent bug you know I am. You have the skill, so what are you doing to do?”

“You—”

“I love you.”

Ra’s freezes, the man almost a statue and Tim would laugh and laugh if he had the energy for it. His toes scrape on the pavement, he feels like a ghost already.

“I am never going to stop.” Tim tries to crack his lips into a smile. They’re too dry and it hurts. “You are never going to stop. I’ve accepted it. I hate it. I hate you, and I hate how much I still want to be with you, but I’ve accepted it. So are you going to do the same or finally break us?”

Tim’s feet crash to the ground, he doesn’t bother supporting his own weight, just sags into Ra’s’ grip still around his neck. A few yards away their two forms would appear as lovers and not enemies about to kill each other. “It is not that simple, my brilliant scorpion.”

“We’ve already drowned R-Ra’s.” He wheezes. “Now make up your damn mind.”

The fingers begin to constrict and Tim winces but is not surprised. This was always a possible outcome. He just wishes he could see Ra’s’ face when his last contingency kicks in. The one that connects his heart rate to the bombs attached to not only the last of Ra’s’ Lazarus pits but even the ones tucked deep into the earth on the vein that springs them up in the first place.

It doesn’t matter.

He’ll just have to wait until they meet again in Hell.

Tim doubts his lover would make him wait too long.

“What have you done to me?”

The air gradually cut off from Tim’s throat. His broken gasps becoming fainter, weaker. But he doesn’t look away, only lifts his hand to brush Ra’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. He’s angry at the black creeping into his vision so quickly, Ra’s’ wretched sight may be the last thing he sees...but he doesn’t regret it. He’d do it again if he could.

“I should...no, I must be rid of you—”

There’s voices in the background, shouting his name, but Tim can’t pay them any mind. Not when his heartbeat is the loudest thing he hears in his ears, the way it rushes trying so hard, so frantically to still beat. He doesn’t want to miss a thing, not even as the darkness finally overtakes him and he. is. out.

“—Yet I cannot stand the thought of mourning you.”

“T–!”

“Tim, please you have to get up.”

Tim gasps, his eyes shooting open to stalactites and faces above his own.

“Timmy, you’re finally awake!”

“I-I’m alive?” he croaks. His voice grating and sore. Huh. Well Tim didn’t plan for this. He reaches to his neck and wonders if there’s bruises in the shape of Ra’s’ fingerprints. It definitely hurts like it would.

“Yeah, the sec we got in a hundred feet, Ra’s lobbed ya at us like a football and ran off like the filthy coward he is.” Jason sits at the end of the bed.

But he didn’t snap his neck like vigilante expected either. The assassin could have, would have had enough time to do that before the others could get to him. He could have had a consolation prize: revenge nice and neat by throwing another dead son at the Bat’s feet.

But he didn’t.

Red takes in his surroundings, the bats echoing somewhere in the cave, how he must be on the good stuff because he can’t feel anything. Not that it stops Dick from placing a hand on his shoulder to pin him down to the cot when he tries to sit up.

“Whoa, what do you think you’re doing, little brother?”

“Where’s Alfred and Damian? Are they alright? Are they—”

An indignant sniff to his left, “What? Did you suppose you could be rid of my existence so easily? Despite your predisposition for it, do not be a fool, Drake.” Damian leans over with a show of crossing his arms. But there’s a lack of bite in those words.

“Are your animals, Batcow and all, okay?”

Damian glowers and looks away, “They are fine, of course. Just like you shall also be in no time, I suppose.”

Tim smiles. Watches as Dick coos and attacks the youngest in a big hug of death. Even Jason’s lips twitch.

Alfred steps into his scope of vision. Tim’s breathing relaxes more, it’s great to see the grace and poise back in the butler. Alfred is...special to him, to the whole family, for a reason after all. “I am here as well. Master Damian and I should recover rather quickly without much assistance. It seems, however, the recovery for your injuries will require much more.”

Tim manages not to shrug, to be fair it really could have been much worse. It was almost as if Ra’s had been playing nice. He might actually recover in one or two months! He looks around, his head dropping back to the pillows at the lack of one more..person he would like to see. His heart betraying him with disappointment.

“Where’s Bruce?” His tone betrays him too, dang it.

“He is out on the veranda. There is something urgent that he must see to,” Alfred says steadily, the man thinks of how Master Bruce has been guarding the entrance to the medbay for quite some time. His ward being armed with things that hurt, for the Bat has lost his charitable mood as of late. Then the butler arches an eyebrow, “In fact, Master Timothy, could you please enlighten us as to why over twenty ninjas are camped on the lawn?”

Huh. The gesture is sweet. Almost as sweet as the time Ra’s gave him the files for nineteen sex traffickers for his birthday.

“I probably got them in the divorce.” At Dick’s strangled noises, Tim adds, “Nah, most likely they’re just here to make sure I stabilize.”

The collective sigh of relief around him is annoying. Okay, Tim can’t help it.

“I mean, we’d have to break up or something for that to happen first and I don’t remember the two of us doing that.”

Cries of outrage, “Tim, he almost killed you!”

“But he didn’t.”

“He almost killed off half of Gotham’s population!”

“But we stopped him in time.” Tim wiggles minutely to get comfortable. “The fight is over, no harm, no foul.”

“Tim, you’re harmed all over!”

Tim continues like he wasn’t interrupted, “It’s like a normal Tuesday for us at this rate. Alfred, could you tell B I’m fine and awake? It should be enough for the ninjas to get the memo that I’m okay and go the fuck away.”

“If that is what you wish for, Master Timothy.” The butler bows and walks away, knowing the small crowd around the bed will keep the teenager secure. Before he heads upstairs, he picks up the AK-47 resting to the side. Some people need...persuasion it seems to leave his family in peace, though he supposes that the weapon is unbecoming for not being ‘a bat.’ To be frank, as Alfred’s shadow darkens the halls one step at a time, a line of children’s poetry continues to echo in his mind.

‘But I’ve brought a big bat. I’m ready, you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me.’

Alfred will give Ra’s one concession. His men are quite annoyingly...persistent to get rid of. The challenge of it all is almost admirable.

Almost.

It takes a month for Tim to beg, banter, and threaten in order return to his perch where he can finally be alone.

He’s overwhelmed by bliss at the thought.

Okay, so it may take longer than usual to dismantle the current array of bugs spread throughout the place. He may have had to sell his soul and swear to rest for a few more weeks that he swears he doesn’t need.

But, still, it’s nice to be home.

Where he’s not smothered every half in hour, he means you, you Dick. It’s lovely to be able to limp around his apartment freely, his prop-crutches being useful for a change. There’s no one to judge, assess, or psychoanalyze him on his views and how they haven’t changed concerning a certain person. He can finally relax and sink into his own bed and Tim almost wants to cry.

He loves his room. Where Tim doesn’t bother to lock his bedroom window. It’s annoying to fix the locks if they’re going to be broken repeatedly. So, at midnight, when he hears it crack open, the sliding of it so soft, Tim doesn’t turn around in bed to face it. He just waits for the cold of his back to turn to warmth, for something heavy to sink beside him and make the old mattress squeak. He’s patient for the arms to wind hesitantly around his waist, mindful of his injuries with a delicate touch.

“I wish you would cease needlessly provoking me.”

“I wish you’d close the window, you’re letting the cold in.”

“Have I ever failed to keep you warm, detective?”

Tim hums and settles deeper in the mattress, the ache of his injuries easing under good pain killers and the chest moving against his spine. The night eases around them, shadows moving, reminding him of roof tops and flying free, never so free as this.

“So, do you hate me yet?”

Ra’s huffs quietly into Tim’s ear, “Not nearly enough it seems.” He presses a lingering kiss in the hollow behind it.

“I won, you know. Now you must honorably, because you have honor, leave them alone for at least a few months. I’ve earned it.”

“You are not a gracious winner, my love.”

“Oh, does that mean you’re a sore loser? I promise not to rub it in your face too much.” He covers the hand resting on his stomach with one of his own.

“Failure provides opportunities for improvement, dearest. Next time, I will forgo giving you the option to choose. I am ashamed that I forgot how your self-preservation instincts are nonexistent.” He sucks lightly on the nape of Tim’s neck. “I know better now that next time I must drug you, next time I must have my men isolate you in a place far away so any plan of mine can proceed without your delightful interference.”

“Can we not talk about next time?” Right now he doesn’t want to think of all the things that could and very well would be on the horizon. Doesn’t want to think of backup plans to the whole spirited away scenario. Not right now.

“If that what you wish, my beloved.”

A snort, “Besides a closed window?”

“Besides a closed window,” Ra’s agrees, starting to entangle their legs together. “I have no desire to leave your side tonight.”

“...Good.” Slowly, Tim is lulled by the presence of the demon giving him what he needs to fall asleep. It’s horrible how dependent his body has become on Ra’s. That might be Ra’s’ most successful diabolical plan yet.

Just before he’s done for, Ra’s whispers,

“One day, Timothy...I will not stop. I will follow through and wring your neck. Do you understand me correctly?”

“I do...I wouldn’t have it any other way. You know that. Now go to sleep.”

“Goodnight, my fair one.”

“Night, Ra’s.”

Tim dreams of frogs and scorpions. Of them at the bottom of the pond, the two floating motionless in the current...but floating together.

It is a good dream.

[jamesclarke99]

Patient Diary – What’s it like to have an upper eyelids blepharoplasty?

For the last three years, I have noticed that my upper eyelids were looking puffy. I lost elasticity in my skin. Botox wasn’t correcting the issue anymore. I could pinch my skin and it would stay that way! Then when I had to start lifting my eyelids to put eyeliner on… I thought, “That’s it, I need to fix this!”  

I used to love my eyes, they were my best feature. I feel like they have lost their pizzazz. It bums me out to look at them especially with having to wear a mask everyday…eyes are such a focal point!

I’ve tried other things besides Botox.  I tried this fibroblast skin tightening procedure at a Medi-spa a couple of years ago. I hoped it would shrink my upper eyelids skin. That ended up being a huge waste of money.  It’s a procedure where they do mini pinprick burns in your skin to tighten it. Even though we just did my upper eyelids … my entire face swelled up!  I looked like the bad plastic surgery cat women! If someone stuck my face with a pointy object it would have exploded. Strangely, I was way more swollen from that than the upper blepharoplasty. The only result I got from that was my skin looked like an orange peel. I had little indentions from the device.

I spilled my heart out to my Botox injector about not getting the right results anymore.  After that, she looked at me and said, “You should go talk to Dr. Baker.” I knew it was time. I was tired of, well, looking tired!

I’ll be 46 years-old in a couple of weeks and it’s time I make a change that makes ME feel better about MYSELF. There’s no point in looking in the mirror every morning and upsetting yourself first thing in the morning! You should be looking in the mirror, and saying, “HELLO GORGEOUS, I look good today.”  That being said, I’ve decided to stop playing small and to get an upper lid blepharoplasty, aka, an upper eyelids lift with Dr. Baker at Grossman Capraro Plastic Surgery.

Consultation: I met with Dr. Baker and his nurse, Jillie.  We discussed what I desired and I showed him pictures that I had of myself from when I felt my eyes really sparkled! They were also the photos that prompted me to talk to him.  He explained different scenarios of how he would accomplish my goal.  He also showed me pictures of past clients and their amazing results.  I liked what I heard and really like what I saw. So, I decided to go big and move forward!  

Consent Appointment: After my consultation appointment with Dr. Baker, I booked what they call a consent appointment. During the consent, the nurse, Stacy explained what I needed to do before the procedure to prepare. She explained things like no drinking alcohol for 2 weeks. That’s when my eyes bugged out of my head!

What… no wine?! Not going to lie … I had a come to Jesus moment with myself.  And, then he spoke to me, “April, your procedure is only two weeks away … you can do this.”  I took a deep breath and asked Nurse Stacy to continue.  She then went on and explained the medication they prescribe to help with recovery and how I should take it.  All jokes aside, the consent appointment was filled with a lot of important information, so you want to make sure you’re listening during that.  The entire staff was super helpful!

I was feeling excited leading up to the big day! Not sure real nerves ever kicked in. I was confident this is what I wanted!  

Day of the Procedure: The procedure was done in the office which was super nice. No anesthesia is necessary.  I got to the office about 30 minutes before the procedure. Nurse Stacy gave me two medications to somewhat sedate me.  I felt amazing once those kicked in! I was still able to talk and was aware of what was going on, but I was pretty relaxed!  Dr. Baker could have come at my face with a machete and that was alright by me!

He didn’t, of course.

Dr. Baker explained things as he was marking my eyelids which I enjoyed hearing.  Well, I was enjoying everything at that moment thanks to my pre-pre-procedural cocktail from Stacy!  He then put this orange numbing solution over my eyes. After that, I’m pretty sure my medication kicked in even more and my eyes rolled right on into the back of my head.  

As he was doing the incisions, I didn’t feel a thing!  I didn’t even know he had started because my eyes were closed! Imagine if they weren’t. LOL. He had nice music playing which helped me zone out too.  Next thing I knew … I was done and on my way home. It didn’t hurt at all.  

After the Procedure (same day): About 2 hours after I got home, a little pain from the incisions started to kick in. It wasn’t terrible, but my eyelids started to throb a bit. This is going to sound weird, but it was almost like my heart was beating in my eyeballs. It was the exact time that Nurse Stacy said I would probably need to take another pain pill.  I popped one of those puppies and felt better in a matter of minutes. Then out of nowhere, I puked those puppies up! Thankfully, the throbbing never came back, and I didn’t have to take any more pain pills.

Don’t get me wrong, there was discomfort.  It had more to do with my eyes feeling heavy and my vision is blurry.  You need to rest your eyes after the procedure. You can’t go home and watch TV.  Your eyes are covered with Polysporin which is like Neosporin to prevent infection. It feels like there is a coating of gel in your eyes because there is. It doesn’t burn, it’s just annoying.

I put the TV on and just listened to a marathon of Dateline shows. Don’t plan on scrolling through social media, reading a book, or fully watching TV for a couple of days.  I think it took me 3 days to start doing that, but I still couldn’t do it for long periods of time.    

The worst part for me was having to sleep with my head elevated. I’m one that sleeps with my face planted in my thin but squishy pillow. I hate my head is elevated. I ended up sleeping on my reclining couch, so I didn’t have the urge to turn over.  By day three, the back of my head hurt more than my eyes!

Post Op Day 1: The day after having the procedure was a bit like the first.  I was able to get up and make coffee for myself, but I needed to close my eyes while I was standing there waiting for my cup to fill.   As you can imagine, I stayed on the couch all day again. I listened to Bravo this time.  I did a marathon of Housewives all day. I’m not sure which gave me more anxiety, hearing about murders on Dateline or California wives screaming at each other. I took a half of valium and drifted off to la-la land.

Post Op Days 3-7: On day three, I could already tell a difference even though I was swollen. Although, I didn’t swell terribly.  That really surprised me because I’m a sweller!  I get bit by a mosquito and my entire limb swells.

The bruising on my left eye which is where Dr. Baker removed a tiny bit of muscle became very colorful that day.  All the pretty colors! Dark purple, blue, and yellow. Just kidding. I looked like someone punched me in the eye. My vision was much better. I felt great. I was able to take my dog for a walk and do somethings around the house.

On day 5, I got gusty and went to the mall! Poor Denis (my other half) went with me and was getting the side look. My eyes were still purple, blue, and a bit yellow. I wore sunglasses inside like a superstar except that I’m not!  I looked beat up.  I went shopping for blue light glasses, so I had something cute to wear to work that helped disguise my eyes.      

Even though, Dr, Baker warned me that I was going to look beat up for a couple of weeks… I didn’t believe him. I thought, “Naw, I’ll heal quicker than most.”  Naw, I was wrong!

For me, day 5 was the first day I thought, “Oh God … Am I ever going to heal?” This was also the day that my eyelids got a bit itchy because they are healing.  

Day 6, I was back to work!  I put on all my makeup except for eye makeup, of course. You can’t do that until your stitches are out.  I made sure I did my hair nicely, so I felt put together. For the finishing touches, I popped on my new blue light glasses and felt like a sexy edgy librarian all day! I had to keep that act going until day 10.

Post Op Day 10: I got my stitches out! Finally! It felt so good to have those things removed.  They didn’t hurt or even look bad, but I could feel them. My eyelids were itchy because they were healing.  

3 Weeks Post Op: My eyes look fresher for sure!  I’m not one to go anywhere without eye makeup. Before this procedure, I wouldn’t be caught dead without mascara! But I find myself feeling much more confident. I was the girl that went to an all-female 6 am fitness class with eyeliner and mascara on!  Now, I don’t wear anything. I’m totally fresh-faced wherever I go… except for my covid mask of course!

Overall thoughts: If you’re contemplating this procedure… absolutely go for it! Be patient with yourself during the healing process and get excited about putting that sparkle back in your eye!

Recommendations: Make sure before your procedure you buy 2 bottles of dry eyedrop solution. I used Systane dry eye relief. You’re going to need that! Make sure to take it to work with you. You’ll be putting drops in sporadically all day for about 2 weeks, especially if you work in front of a computer all day like me.