#I need robin to go back to wearing long sleeve leather sets | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carolmunson · 10 months ago

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let's go girls:

“We’re going over to Steve’s tonight,” Robin practically hums around a mouthful of fruit loops, completely unaware of you already stewing about the boy whose name just rolled off her tongue this early in the morning.

my favorite unaware queen. yes, make plans at my shitty ex bfs house who i hate. thank you so much.

“That’s cool with me.” You muster up enough effort to twist your lips up into a smile that feels more like a grimace. The smashed rainbow Robin reveals in her mouth when she laughs tells you it is. “Do me a favor, and never go into acting.” Swallowing loudly, she drops her spoon back into her bowl with a clank. “I do appreciate you trying to pretend like you’re okay with it, though, and in all seriousness, we haven’t gone this long without seeing each other in like, forever. He says you're keeping me hostage.”

my favorite codependent idiot duo, truly my own true pairing. i will always love them.

“Eddie’s off tonight, so we’re having a little reunion barbecue, and Steve’s gonna grill.”

eddie's off? more like i'm getting eddie off.

”Why stop at just the four of us, let’s invite Vickie, make it a real party.” The name of your best friend’s ex leaves your mouth before you can stop it, instant regret making a heavy home in your chest that feels like it might cave in when her mood shifts with glassy eyes and it’s completely your fault. “I take back what I said, I need you to start acting again.” Jumping off the counter, you set your mug down so you can grab her arm before she can take those few steps out of the kitchen. “Hey! Look, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” She doesn’t put up much of a fight, even though you deserve it, the blue in her eyes turn to ice when she looks at you.

the way i just wanted to fight reader. who am i, steve?! don't bring up vickie! my princess is fragile!

The honey colored tips of his chestnut hair curl at the ends, sticking out of the sides of his backwards baseball hat. A well worn black cotton shirt with the sleeves cut out has the arms that you’d dreamt about on full display. The summer sun somehow dotting even more freckles across his shoulder blades that flex everytime he spins his car keys around his finger. The dark cherry red basketball shorts he wears hit the bottoms of his hairy thighs, the red mesh even more vibrant against his tan skin, just like the white leather of the Nike Cortez’s that cover his feet.

OH FUCK OFF LEIGHANNE.

”You don’t have to help, you know?” His voice comes out just loud enough for you to hear over the running water, the small smacking sound of the fridge closing behind it, “If you’re that uncomfortable, I can do it.”

i wanna kiss him so bad, actually :(

”I know baby, I know,” he coos in a soothing voice, and in your panic you almost don’t catch the old nickname that slips off his tongue with ease. Long fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to him, “Let me see, stay still.”

i just choked

Steve laughs again, just like the one you heard on your way out and the sound burrows in your heart, making it swell, giddiness roiling deep in your gut. You ignore Robin’s obnoxious toothy grin next to you, doubling down even more when she starts to wiggle her eyebrows. The two beer cans at her feet tell you everything you need to know.

i am concerned about robin's drinking.

“Jesus, easy tiger,” Eddie snorts, finishing off the last of his beer before crushing the tin can in his hand, tossing it on his empty plate, “The trash isn’t going anywhere.”

i need him biblically.

“This isn’t awkward at all,” Eddie grumbles, taking another sip of his beer to help the uncomfortable tension that threatens to settle over the circle.

i will break the tension, with a hand job.

Steve nods with a tight lipped smile taking one last glance in your direction before sitting up in his chair with an idea that makes his cheeks push up and his eyes sparkle against the light of the fire. “Alright, never have I ever pretended to not only have a driver's license but also own a car that actually belongs to my best friend so I can hook up with a girl in the backseat.” A quiet sigh escapes your lungs, shoulders relaxing just a little when Robin groans loudly at the attack that’s clearly focused on her. Oblivious to the fact that you’re hanging on by a thread next to her, you stare fixed on the way the flames lick up into the night.

ugh i love them. i love their friendship. they are truly my faves.

”You think or you know?” Cocking a brow with a shit eating grin that tells him you aren’t going to fold easy, the backs of your thighs hit the edge of his desk. He sucks at his teeth, rolling his shoulders with the kind of laugh that makes the dull ache between your legs turn into a throb. “I know. Trust me.” He smirks, gaze lingering where the soft dough of your thighs meet before finding your eyes again, “Guess what else I know?” It's hard for you to catch your breath when he looks at you like this and you wonder if he notices the quick heaves of your chest or the way your eyes glaze over from being this close to him.

can't wait to FUCK HIM! excited to HAVE SEX!

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter two -

I might kill my ex, not the best idea

Eddie warned Robin that a game of never have I ever was a bad idea, and you should know better than to go snooping where you don’t belong.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking (hey it’s a summer time barbecue in the midwest), you thought there was a lot tension the last chapter? baby, you haven’t seen nothing yet. jealousy, spicy things are revealed about all of them during a drinking game.

wc: 9.5k

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

It’s been one week.

One entire week without even so much of a glimpse of that permanently messy head of hair, and god, you hated how much it bothered you. Ears perking up every time you’d catch the cadence of his voice through the receiver of Robin’s cordless phone the few times he called her to check in. Like an unwanted guest who wasn’t taking the hint, his broad shoulders and full pink lips that somehow always look like they need to be kissed haunt your unsuspecting dreams at night.

You hate it, you hate him, and you try not to spiral about why it feels like the opposite.

“What?” You snap, tearing your eyes from the slow pour of the coffee maker in front of you, grouchy and wound up from a dream about his big hands pulling your legs apart so perfect white teeth could nip at the inside of your thighs.

“Steve, you know that guy you told me you’d try and be nice to. The one who’s fixing your car?” Sarcasm drips from her tone as she scoops up another bite, “We’re going to his house.”

Of course.

“Do me a favor, and never go into acting.” Swallowing loudly, she drops her spoon back into her bowl with a clank. “I do appreciate you trying to pretend like you’re okay with it, though, and in all seriousness, we haven’t gone this long without seeing each other in like, forever. He says you're keeping me hostage.”

“I’m keeping you hostage?!” You scoff with a roll of your eyes, turning your back to finally pour yourself the cup of coffee you’ve waited so patiently for. “He’s the best friend stealer.”

“I’m not going to lie, I think I like you two fighting over me,” she laughs, looking a little too smug for your liking as she brings her empty bowl to the sink, Garfield slippers scuffling across the tile, too lazy to pick up her feet from the floor.

“Yeah, 'cause you’re sick.” A real smile curls up into your cup, inhaling the rich scent into your nose. “What are your plans to torture me with his presence this time?”

Robin narrows her stare at you in a silent warning, pulling herself up to sit on the counter, orange cat covered feet dangling freely as you meet her gaze with softened eyes in a silent apology.

“Eddie’s off tonight, so we’re having a little reunion barbecue, and Steve’s gonna grill.”

Choking on your coffee, you sputter your sip back into your mug, turning her freckled face sour.

“Since when does Steve know how to cook, let alone grill?”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you know you’re skating on thin ice, but all the built up tension that tightens your muscles, and buzzes incessantly at your fingertips makes everything feel impossible to control.

“He’s not seventeen anymore - “

“Really? He had me fooled shoving his tongue down some pretty blonde’s throat at Rick’s the other night.”

“That’s - come on, you know that's not fair. He didn’t even know -”

”Why stop at just the four of us, let’s invite Vickie, make it a real party.”

The name of your best friend’s ex leaves your mouth before you can stop it, instant regret making a heavy home in your chest that feels like it might cave in when her mood shifts with glassy eyes and it’s completely your fault.

“I take back what I said, I need you to start acting again.”

Jumping off the counter, you set your mug down so you can grab her arm before she can take those few steps out of the kitchen.

“Hey! Look, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”

She doesn’t put up much of a fight, even though you deserve it, the blue in her eyes turn to ice when she looks at you.

“I’m sorry.”

She holds your stare until she can tell you actually mean it, melting glaciers with a heavy sigh.

“It’s fine, I get it.”

Her words come out soft, just like the lines that smooth on her face.

“I know this is weird and like totally against friend code or whatever, but I think that just goes to show how much he must mean to me or even a testament to how much he’s changed if I’m even asking you to just try and do this. Just try, that’s all.”

“No, you’re right,” you fluster, doing your best to reassure her in a shaky voice, “I just slept badly and had a really weird dream. It just threw me off a little. I’m being so awful and I’m sorry.”

Flashes of the way his hands gripped your hips and the dirty things he whispered in your ear has your palms start to sweat, making you loosen your grip on her arm before she can notice.

Robin searches your face for the reassurance that she needs before a small smile finally tugs at the corners of her lips.“This is why you’re my best friend.” She pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“Only if you tell him that.”

Snaking your arms around her waist, you let out a shaky laugh, silently preparing to see the man who hasn’t left the crevices of your mind since you stepped foot back in Hawkins.

———

It feels like you’re back in high school the way you can’t stop looking at yourself in the mirror, the nerves still feel the same.

Your gaze wanders up and down your reflection, turning from side to side, overly critical eyes take in your curves that are on display a little more than normal and you wonder if Robin will notice. Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, better yet you wonder if Robin will notice and have something to say about it.

“You’re certainly spending a lot of time on an outfit.” Your best friend whistles low as she leans against the open bedroom door confirming your fears with a cross of her arms.

“Just trying to remember what I brought is all.” You don’t engage with the amusement that hides in her tone, smoothing down the short black skirt that flares over the tops of your thighs, before adjusting the straps on your matching tank top.

“Riiiight,” she snorts, earning the kind of glare that has her raising her hands in defense before a shit-eating grin cracks wide across her face. “I’m going to need you to hurry up, though. Do I need to remind you that we’re walking?”

“I’m done!” You huff, sock covered feet digging into her cream carpet as you make your way toward her, “I just need to put on my shoes.”

“You’ve got twenty secon-” she agonizes before three hard knocks on her front door cut her off. Her cheshire smile falters as she turns confused.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get to finish that sentence,” you warn in a harsh whisper, grabbing your Converse that had been haphazardly kicked off earlier in the corner.

Robin puts a ringed finger to her lips, like the possibility of a kidnapper being on the other side is extremely probable, and it’s her turn to glare when you roll your eyes at her dramatics. Following her out to the living room, you plop down on the couch, watching her slowly creep to the front door. Both her hands find the blue painted wood pushing up on the toes of her Reeboks to look out the peephole.

“Steve?!”

The name makes your stomach flip, a shaky breath pushing its way through watermelon flavored lips because you thought you had more time than this. Keeping a poker face, you take your time tying your laces as she swings the door open. Head down, your eyes keep their focus on how the dirty white strings move between your fingers.

You’re not ready to look at him. Not yet.

“After taking you to school at 7am every day after I graduated, you really thought I was going to let you walk?” The smile in his voice is evident, a fond memory you’re not a part of but you can still feel the warmth inside it by the way he speaks.

“Thank god,” she starts, the insinuation of the words that are going to follow making your eyes snap up, narrowed and shooting daggers at your best friend, catching Steve’s attention in the process.

“We were going to be late.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, his gaze claiming yours and holding it against your will, the beginnings of a smirk playing on his full lips and suddenly it’s so much warmer in her living room than it was two seconds ago. “Why’s that?”

He somehow looks even better than the last time you saw him, a bad habit you’re quickly learning that he has. The honey colored tips of his chestnut hair curl at the ends, sticking out of the sides of his backwards baseball hat. A well worn black cotton shirt with the sleeves cut out has the arms that you’d dreamt about on full display. The summer sun somehow dotting even more freckles across his shoulder blades that flex everytime he spins his car keys around his finger. The dark cherry red basketball shorts he wears hit the bottoms of his hairy thighs, the red mesh even more vibrant against his tan skin, just like the white leather of the Nike Cortez’s that cover his feet.

“She’s just being dramatic,” you grumble, finally tearing your eyes from the dark moss that covers the chocolate inside his, doing your best to ignore the heat of them wandering the bare skin of your legs as you finish tying your shoes.

“You changed your outfit like sixty times!”

This is the moment that you decide you’re going to kill Robin in her sleep tonight.

“Well, I’m ready so you both can stop being annoying now.” Standing, you tug down the bottom of your skirt that suddenly feels even shorter with his full attention on you like this.

“Wait, why am I annoying? I just got here.” Steve argues when your words finally sink in, snapping him out of his daze, catching the keys in his palm.

“You’re always annoying, Harrington,” you sigh, hoping your deflections are working, but the small smile that never leaves his lips tells you it’s not.

“Shotgun!” Robin calls out like it’s something you would have argued over. Your shoulder brushes with his as you push your way out the door, sending sparks to the tips of your fingers and making your hair stand on end. Steve and the summer heat warm your skin.

“It’s all yours,” you concede with ease, ignoring the butterfly wings that wreak havoc in your rib cage when the spice of his cologne makes its way into your nose.

It was going to be a night.

Steve keeps the windows rolled down, the muggy air making your bare thighs stick together and to the hot leather of his backseat. It drowns out the music as he speeds down the back roads, making the conversation between him and Robin upfront almost inaudible.

You don’t worry about what they might be saying, not even when they both start gesturing wildly with their hands. Taking advantage of the time left alone, you put all of your focus into preparing yourself for the next few hours, doing your best to push the lingering thoughts of your dream deep down to a place that no one can find. A task that proves to be much harder while avoiding his gaze that dares you to meet it in the rear view mirror the entire way.

The memories you have of the back of his car don’t help either.

Pulling into Forest Hills trailer park, you’re surprised at the facelift they finally gave it after all these years. Lush green grass grows where the yellow and brown shrub used to be, and a wooden gazebo that looks like it’s missing a finishing coat stands tall, replacing the picnic table where you and the metal head used to smoke. Even the gravel that paves the road looks new and gray, not the dirt brown mud that it used to be.

It’s still a struggle to wrap your head around the fact that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, the former king of Hawkin’s and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson not only work together, but live together too. You would have laughed in anyone’s face if they told you this five years ago.

The BMW’s tires crunch loudly against the rocks as Steve pulls into the driveway of a hunter green trailer. It sits in the back of the park, almost touching the edge of the woods behind it. A faded white line running along the length that matches the metal railing of their front entrance and the overhang that covers it. The paint peels from parts of the metal in the heat, revealing spots of the gray hidden underneath. A worn in deep maroon couch sits on the porch just like the dirty brown one at Wayne’s trailer, and you already know Eddie spends his mornings there. You internally groan when you catch yourself wondering if Steve does too.

“Home sweet home,” he hums, cutting the engine off and pulling you out of your thoughts.

You dare to meet his eyes for the first time since you left the apartment when Robin jumps out of the front seat, and you immediately regret it. He smiles wide, finally catching your attention, those perfect white teeth baring themselves at you as he pulls off his hat to run a hand through his sweaty bed head. The long strand he’s always at battle with falls through the opening in the back when he puts it on again, because, of course it does.

“Good to see you finally slumming it with the rest of us, King Steve,” you snort, pulling on the handle to let yourself out, ending any chance of conversation.

If it wasn’t for your Eddie barreling out of the front door to greet you and Robin with a big dimpled grin and a freshly rolled joint, you would’ve thought a little harder about the way Steve winced at the nickname.

The Munson/Harrington Bachelor pad anomaly isn’t exactly what you expected it to be, but even then you weren’t entirely sure what that was. It’s cozy just like how Wayne’s used to be but where there’s hand me downs that have been through the short line of Munson men’s hands, there’s an equal amount of obviously perfectly well kept new. Like the shiny big TV in the center of their living room, and the well-loved lazy boy in front of it, that still had cigarette burns from its previous owner, next to the rich tan leather couch right by it.

It smells like it has just been cleaned, a sanitizing lilac still lingering in the air, trying its best to cover the smell of all grease stained clothing in their hampers and the smoke from joints like the one Eddie’s about to put out in an ashtray full of ones just like it.

He sits at the head of the table with a lopsided grin that pushes up the apples of his cheeks and reveals the deep dimples in the center of them. Droopy lids frame his bloodshot eyes that meet your own. Orange and pinks paint the darkening sky through the sliding glass door behind him.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually here,” Eddie chuckles with a fond glint in big brown eyes leaning back in his chair that squeaks under the redistribution of his weight.

“Back by popular demand,” you smirk, pointing at Robin, who sits just on the other side of the table, glassy eyed with an unwavering smile.

You try to ignore how the empty chair next to her bothers you, or they way your eyes keep looking toward the kitchen through the small opening of their little island, giving you the perfect view of Steve prepping dinner. His thick eyebrows are furrowed as he digs through spice racks and drawers, front teeth digging into the plushness of his bottom lip deep in thought.

“I think this calls for a fire,” Eddie announces loudly, bringing you back to the conversation with a slap of his palms on the wood of the table and the kind of smirk that tells you that you’ve been caught.

“We told Janice next door weekends only after last time,” Steve’s voice startles you, making his presence known, leaning against the wall with crossed arms.

“It’s Thursday. Practically the weekend. Besides it’s a special occasion, look who’s here Stevie boy.” Something in Eddie’s tone makes Steve’s eyes narrow in a silent threat that only makes the metal heads' lips twist up into something more devilish.

“You have to put it out before bed then, I’m not dealing with it like last time.” Steve accepts defeat quicker than anticipated, “And if she calls or comes over to complain at all, that's all on you too.”

”Deal,” Eddie agrees with five fingers across his heart, the silver of his rings catching in the low light of their trailer.“I think she’s got a crush on me anyway.”

“She’s married,” Steve dead pans with a deep sigh, taking his hat off to run another hand through his hair and you hate the way it has your thighs meeting under the table. “Who’s helping me with dinner then?”

He knows better than to look at you, so his gaze falls onto his roommate and best friend.

”Don’t look at me!” Robin argues, raising her right hand to show off the faded scar on her palm. “Last time I tried to help, I had to get stitches, remember?”

”The fire’s a full time job I’m afraid,” Eddie shrugs, standing up. Not missing a beat, they both look at each other like they're in on some secret that you and Steve aren’t apart of before their eyes land on you.

”You know I’m not a good cook,” you whine, refusing to meet the heat of Steve’s stare that burns against the side of your face.

”I’m sure Steve’s more than willing to help teach you, princess.” Eddie grins, and it makes you want to slap the dimples clean off his face.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, I can do it by myself,” Steve interjects with a sigh before you have a chance to respond with something that he knows will just egg the metal head on and get his ego even more bruised.

He’s not expecting the way your eyes snap to his, or the way they narrow with something fiery deep inside them.

”We’re grown adults, Steve. I think I can handle helping you cut some vegetables or whatever it is you need me to do.” Standing up with a shove of your chair, he doesn’t even attempt to argue about how that’s the exact opposite of what you just said.

”There we go! Problem solved.” Eddie’s grin is mischievous, and so is the wink he throws at his roommate before opening the sliding glass door, ushering Robin out and leaving you both alone.

The tension inside the kitchen hangs thicker in the air than the humidity outside weighing down your shoulders, making the words stick in the back of your throat as you try to navigate the close proximity to Steve. Neither one of you is sure of what to say first, and the sound of Eddie and Robin laughing outside filling the silence between you somehow makes it worse.

The weed twists the knots in your stomach tighter, and the cedar that always seems to linger whenever he’s around turns suffocating without an escape. You lean against the sink across from him while he digs through the icebox in the fridge. Shoulder blades moving with the motions of his wrist, plastic crinkling loudly every time he moves a bag out of the way. Muttering to himself, you watch goosebumps rise on his tan skin from the cool air, muscles twitching from the shock.

This was a mistake.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you tear your eyes away in hopes it will stop the dull ache between your legs from getting worse when you’re brought back to the way those same arms caged you in while his hips pushed you deeper into the mattress in your dreams last night. Looking out the small window at the beginning flames of the bonfire, a shaky breath pushes past your glossed lips, and you wipe your palms on your skirt before turning around to wash your hands.

Cutting the water, you shake your hands in the sink before tearing off a paper towel from the roll next to you. Working up enough courage to finally turn around to look at him, you finish drying your hands with a softer expression.

”No, I can help.”

He holds your stare, silently giving you another out while his fingers make quick work of unwrapping a head of lettuce, an onion, and a few peppers from their plastic confines. No matter how much you want to look away, you don’t, standing firm in your choice despite everything inside of you screaming to run away, and it’s enough for him to nod his head. The slight twitch of his lips while he rolls the bags in his hands doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I just need you to cut the onion into thin slices for the burgers, and same with the jalapeños.” He instructs, turning his back to you to throw away the wrappings.

The sudden movement has the deep cut sleeves of his shirt fluttering open, giving you a glimpse of the thick patch of hair on his chest, and how it tapers off and down past his belly button. Your thighs find each other again, and you look up to the ceiling silently, trying to regain all the strength you thought you’d just found.

“And the lettuce - uhh, are you okay?” Steve’s confusion makes all the blood in your body rush to the apples of your cheeks as you try to hide your internal struggle with a smile.

“Yeah, we’re good. Never been better. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you ramble, brushing past him to the station he’s set up for you.

“…Right,” he starts with a pause before choosing to leave it alone, “I just need you to kind of rip the lettuce up, you can cut it if you want but I think bigger pieces would be better.”

You aren’t expecting his voice to come from right behind you, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against the back of your neck. Your own goosebumps rise, dotting across exposed skin and you hope he doesn’t notice but the way he lingers in your space for a little longer despite the nod of your head makes you think otherwise. The spice of his cologne grows faint along with his footsteps against the tile floor, finding a home on the other side of the kitchen, busying himself with what he had started before.

Eddie turns on the radio, easing some of the tension from your muscles, and relaxing your shoulders as you get a good grip on the handle of the knife.

You could do this, easy.

You really start to believe it too when you cut all the jalapeños, even humming along to an old Judas Priest song that you and Eddie used to blast in his van after school. Peeling the onion, you pretend that you don’t see the reflection of Steve staring at you from the glass of the microwave as you sway your hips and bop your head to the beat.

“So, New York huh?” He finally breaks, and your eyes flutter to the reflection to see him putting away all the spices he’d pulled out while you were smoking. “You likin’ it?”

Your movements freeze for a second, and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth with all the things you’ve dreamed of saying to him. Years of coming up with all the ways you’d tell him how much better you were without him. A recurring fantasy of a ten year reunion where you’d show up with your famous screenwriter husband you’d met on the Subway, turning your nose at him and whatever Hawkin’s girl he’d managed to knock up. But instead, the universe has you here five years too early, and Steve isn’t the same guy you’d left even if you don’t quite trust it yet.

Picking up the knife again, you roll your shoulders with a quiet breath before cutting into the onion once more as you search for the words to answer.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s big and it can be a little scary sometimes but I can be myself there,” it comes out a little quieter than intended but you still twist your hips to meet his gaze from across the kitchen where he stands with crossed arms giving you his full attention. “No one really cares what you do.”

“Who are you trying to be out there?” He asks like he has no idea what small talk is, the greens in his eyes shimmering against the last bit of sunlight that shines on his face.

“Someone stronger than who I was in high school,” you whisper, turning back around to focus on the task at hand and not your ex trying to dig into the depths of your soul while you cut onions.

“You were always the strongest person I knew,” he counters, and you can practically hear the shrug that you know follows his words.

”You certainly liked to test it.”

It comes out before you can bite your tongue, your knife slicing right into the center of the onion and hitting the cutting board roughly, adding dramatic effect.

”Ouch,” he hums with a small laugh, silverware clanking against the metal of the sink behind you as he finishes cleaning up his mess, “I guess I deserved that one.”

“Steve.” You stop cutting, dropping the knife to look at him, unintentionally swiping your eye in the process, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. I promised Rob- oh fuck!”

The burning in your right eye becomes unbearable, the tears spilling freely down your cheek blurring your vision with a harsh sting.

”Oh, oh no. Did you touch your eye?!” Steve sounds panicked, sneakers scuffling against the tile as he hurries to grab a washcloth from the drawer.

“It was an accident!” You whine, closing your eyes as tight as you can, willing the burning tears to stop, the sound of water running from the sink filling your ears, “God it hurts so bad, Steve.”

The coolness of the rag provides instant relief when he presses it gently to your eye. Taking a deep breath, you feel the warmth of his palm rub up and down your arm soothing your irritated nerves more. The sting doesn’t fully go away, but it subsides enough for the tears to slow down as he applies a little more pressure before removing it to wet it again. Blinking past the burning, you finally realize just how close you are to him now.

Chests practically touching, you can see the beginnings of stubble lining his jaw despite being able to tell that he shaved today. The vampire bites on his neck that used to be your favorite to kiss taunt you for what feels like the millionth time this week. With cedar and musk filling your lungs, it feels impossible to breathe.

He cuts off the water, turning towards you again, and you aren’t prepared for the depth in his eyes meeting yours from this distance. They’re soft when they look at you, the chestnut inside them warming gold as you stare back at him a little dazed. Calloused fingertips stop their path up your arm to gently grab your chin, tilting your face up to his so he can get a better look at the damage. He’s sweet with the way moves your head around, the pad of his thumb smoothing the skin under your irritated eye.

”I think you’ll be okay, I don’t see any seeds or anything trapped inside,” he whispers, thumb never stopping its movements while his gaze flicks down to your lips that pout on their own, something electric charging in the air.

The sliding glass door opens behind him before you can answer, Robin and Eddie making their presence known in a loud burst of energy. Snatching the wet rag from his hand, you’re quick to put distance between you. Placing the cool cloth against your face, you make your way out of the kitchen before anyone can ask you anything about what happened. Muttering a “thanks Steve '' on your way to assess just how ruined your makeup is in the bathroom.

Your heart pounds in your ears feeling the ghost of his touch everywhere, chest tightening because your body won’t stop screaming for more.

You stay in the bathroom long enough for the burning to subside, mumbling words that resemble some kind of pep talk while scrubbing your hands. Fingers that still shake with nerves fix your smudged mascara, listening for the moment their voices go quiet behind the sliding glass door before you decide to finally venture out. The sound of Steve’s laugh catches in your ears, as you make your way through the empty trailer, the corners of your lips curling on their own as you tug on the handle that separates you from them. The humidity is quick to turn your skin sticky despite the sun disappearing behind the trees.

”There she is! I heard Harrington tried to blind you,” Eddie chuckles from his place crouched in front of the fire. A half smoked cigarette dangling lazily from the side of his mouth as he ‘stokes’ the flames, the crackling wood competing with the buzz of the cicadas that surround you.

”Riddle me this, Steve, why is it that whenever someone ’helps’ you cook, they end up in the hospital or worse, almost BLIND!”

From her spot sitting on one of the many faded red plastic lawn chairs they have circled around the pit, Robin doesn’t hesitate to turn it into a dog pile with dramatics that could rival an Oscar winning actress.

Steve rolls his eyes, the warm light from the smaller flame of the grill glowing underneath him, highlighting his sharp features. His gaze meets yours, ignoring his friends, and you swear even from here, you can see the green inside each eye shine. You know there’s a million questions he wants to ask but there’s only one that comes out, and it’s soft just like the way he touched you inside.

”Are you okay?”

It’s hard for you to look anywhere but his face, remembering just how pretty it was up close. Your eyes trace the straight line of his nose, and the curve of his full bottom lip before finally meeting his eyes. The small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth reminds you that you haven’t answered him yet but he doesn’t say anything. He lets Robin’s low whistle do all the talking.

”Uhh, yeah, I’m good. Crisis averted,” you mumble, snapping out of it, cheeks warming up enough to compete with the fire pit you stumble around, landing in the seat next to your best friend. “No jalapenos on mine, I think I’ve had enough for today.”

Without a cloud in an almost completely dark sky, you start to see the twinkling of the stars you’ll always miss begin to appear. They battle for your attention against the fireflies that flicker through the tall grass and into the woods. Lighter fluid stings your nose when Steve squirts more onto the burning coals, switching from hot dogs to burgers like he’s been grilling for a family of four his whole life.

A couple of beers calm your nerves that threaten to give you away, watching Steve in his element like this, the holes cut in his shirt showing off every flex of his muscles as he flips the patties. Cheese melting over the burger meat, just like your body that sinks further into the lawn chair that sticks to the backs of your thighs. He throws you a knowing look, making you clear your throat. Straightening your posture, you try to join in Robin and Eddie’s conversation like you hadn’t just been caught. Taking another long swig of the bitter semi cold liquid, you hope it’s enough to get you through dinner.

It’s not.

Steve takes the seat across from you when he’s finished cooking, manspreading with his paper plate in his lap. You fight the urge to look at the tan line of his inner thighs that are revealed by his loose fitting shorts, laughing a little too loud at Eddie’s jokes, desperate to keep your struggle hidden. Even going as far as acting interested when Robin starts talking about her reasons why she likes to buy certain things from the three different grocery stores in town.

It’s when a dribble of ketchup lands on top of Steve's hand after a large bite that you lose your cool. Right between his thumb and index finger, he hums with cheeks full of food before those full lips of his wrap around the spilled sauce, cleaning it with a flick of his tongue.

”I’m gonna throw my plate away, is anyone else done?” You squeak, standing up abruptly, your chair nearly falling backwards in the process.

“Jesus, easy tiger,” Eddie snorts, finishing off the last of his beer before crushing the tin can in his hand, tossing it on his empty plate, “The trash isn’t going anywhere.”

“Just trying to be a good house guest is all,” you lie, making Eddie quirk an eyebrow, the dimples in his cheeks coming out to play again.

”Uh huh.” He smirks before handing you his plate that Robin quickly piles hers on top of. “Sure.”

”That’s very sweet of you,” Steve chimes in, with a lopsided grin on his face that makes you want to punch the air and get out of here.

“She’s pure class Harrington, get it right,” Robin comes for the save with a knowing wink that only makes the heat growing in your cheeks worse.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble quickly turning on your heel, feeling all their eyes on you as you make your way to the back door of the trailer.

”Hurry back. We're gonna play Never Have I Ever,” your best friend calls out over her shoulder making you wish you could just stay inside when the sliding glass door closes behind you.

Embers spark and pop from the fire before they disappear into the night sky, the full moon’s white glow stopping just along the dark edges of the trees that surround the backyard. The four of you sit around the pit with fresh beers in hand. The buzz of the alcohol turning Steve’s gaze heavy as he stares at you from across the flickering flames. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth you look everywhere but his direction, and hope he doesn’t see the way your thighs press under the heat of it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea Robin?” Eddie whispers, big brown eyes glancing between the both of you, and your bouncing knee.

”It’s fine, they’ll be fine. Right guys?” She waves the metal head off, nudging you with her elbow, completely unphased.

”Of course we’ll be fine, why wouldn’t we be fine?” You snap, tugging the bottom of your skirt down, all the built up tension turning into aggression. Steve smiles into his next gulp.

“Whoa, whoa. I was just asking, but you do seem a little tense.” She raises her hands in surrender, both her eyebrows disappearing behind her shaggy bangs while Eddie distracts himself by poking the fire.

“Relax, it’s just a game,” Steve sighs, settling deeper in his chair, the warm amber in the flames bouncing off the mischievous gold in his eyes that keep their hold on you. “Besides, we’re friends now, right?”

Your gaze narrows, the grip on your beer tightening enough to hear the pop of the metal.“Yep,” you manage to get out, shooting Eddie a glare when he snorts.

“If you guys say so,” he starts, ignoring your scowl while getting cut off by Robin who’s practically vibrating in her seat now.

”Let’s have fun already. I’ll start.” Robin shushes him before acting like she’s deep in thought, turning to face you with the kind of grin on her face that tells you she’s up to no good, “Never have I ever…let some Wall Street douchebag go down on me in the backseat of his Rolls Royce.”

“That’s weirdly specific- oh wait! Damn! Princess!” Eddie whoops when you take a swig with a roll of your eyes, flipping Robin the bird.

“Gotta try everything once, right?” You shrug, holding his gaze with a smirk, not even trying to hide that you’re taking great pleasure in the way Steve’s jaw clenches at the new found information of your life outside of here. “He had a nice mouth when he wasn’t using it for talking.”

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, the mossy greens in his eyes turning dark as you lean back in your chair smugly.

“She’s a wild one, I’ll tell ya,” Robin giggles fondly, passing the baton to you with a proud smile.

Maybe it was the beer or the incessant way Steve’s presence drove you to the brink of insanity by rageful lust. Or even just the way he sat across from you with his legs spread wide like he ruled the world, whatever it was, that's what’s to blame for the question that rolls off your tongue.

“Never have I ever taken someone’s virginity.”

Robin’s jaw drops, guffawing with a harsh slap on your leg, mouthing a ‘you said you’d be nice’ but the buzz of the alcohol keeps a lopsided grin on her face. Eddie drinks, nervously watching the staring contest going on between you and Steve. Like a dog and its owner trying to establish dominance, both of you refuse to be the one who looks away first. Taking two gulps for good measure, he smacks his lips loudly when he’s done, wiping the foam off his upper lip with the back of his wrist. Raising his eyebrows at you in a silent challenge.

“This isn’t awkward at all,” Eddie grumbles, taking another sip of his beer to help the uncomfortable tension that threatens to settle over the circle.

”Who’s next? Who's next?” Robin urges with a flick on your knee, forcing you to fold and give her your attention with a blink of your eyes and it feels like the first time in hours that you finally look at someone other than Steve.

Your teeth clench, grinding at the thought that even after all this time he’s still got this kind of hold on you, and it has you riding the thin line between wanting to give him a black eye or have him take you for a spin in his beemer for old times sake.

“Eddie,” raising your can in his direction, he meets you in the middle with a cheers that doesn’t quite touch before slinking back in his chair with an exhausted huff.

“Hmmm, what do I want to reveal about myself?” He hums deep in thought, metal rings clinking against tin in a familiar tune as he taps his fingers around his beer can, “Never have I ever… been in a threesome, despite being titled ‘freak’ of Hawkins.”

“Really?” Robin seems genuinely shocked, making you giggle.

“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy to me too.” Eddie shrugs, with a knowing grin that doesn’t quite sit right in your gut.

That’s when you see it. Steve taking a drink.

”WHAT?!” Your best friend squeals practically jumping from her seat, clearly something that's not common knowledge being revealed.

Jealousy is an ugly monster, and it finds a home deep inside your chest tonight, turning you green with it. Your half empty beer can crunches the more your fingers dig into the tin, eyes narrowing when he just responds to Robin with a coy smirk and a shrug bringing his attention back to you.

”Gotta try everything once right?” Steve mocks, full pink lips curling up at the corners as he takes another sip.

Your heart sinks with your stomach, the muscles in your face doing the same before you have a chance to stop it. Visions of red nails and pink lips that don’t belong to you dance through your head, and the smug smirk he probably wore while his big hands gripped their hips taking turns making them moan his name. The sound of your can completely collapsing in a loud crunch gets everyone’s attention, and you ignore the softened expression on Steve’s face trying to capture your gaze again. Eddie clears his throat, throwing you a life line before opening a new can of beer with a suggestion you’ve never been more grateful for.

”Alright Steve, your turn.”

A quiet sigh escapes your lungs, shoulders relaxing just a little when Robin groans loudly at the attack that’s clearly focused on her. Oblivious to the fact that you’re hanging on by a thread next to her, you stare fixed on the way the flames lick up into the night.

“Look, she was a college senior, okay? I was only a sophomore and she was way cooler than me. Judge me all you want, but it worked didn’t it?” She argues, lifting her beer to the sky before taking a sip proudly. “No regrets!”

Her smile is contagious, easing some of the tension when you and Eddie giggle meeting each other's eyes from across her honey blond waves. You can feel Steve’s stare burning a hole in the side of your head, the heat of it in direct competition with the fire that thrives off the light breeze that rustles through the trees.

“Aright, alright, never have I ever faked getting off.” She wiggles her eyebrows with a toothy grin, looking at Eddie specifically who gives her a dead stare in response, clearly something told to her in confidence.

Biting your lip, you really weren’t going to add more fuel to the fire but when you finally meet Steve’s eyes that have been begging for your attention this whole time, you can’t help but douse the flames with the whole can of gasoline. Another flash of different shades of lipstick staining the freckles you loved to kiss so much sending another wave of rage down to your core.

”I can think of a few times.” You snort loudly, holding his gaze and pointedly stealing everyone else's attention before polishing off the last of your crumpled can.

Steve’s jaw clenches hard enough that you swear you can hear his teeth crunch together. Nostrils flaring with a gaze so dark it threatens to swallow you whole, all traces of honey and warmth gone, leaving you chilled to the bone.

”I think we’re done with this game Robin,” he grunts, standing up with a kick of his chair and for once his eyes don’t search for yours as he stomps across the yard towards the yellow light of the trailer.

“Seriously!” Your best friend groans, slinking back in her chair with a hand running down her face, “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

”Yeah, genius! I told you, but nooo, you didn’t want to listen to me.” Eddie scoffs into his beer can, using his free hand to poke at the fire.

”Can you go, like, talk to him or something?” Robin turns to you with an almost pleading look that gets more prominent the more your face turns sour.

“Me?! I have to go talk to him? Seriously? He’s the one who stormed off,” you argue, crossing your arms.

”Yeah, well you clearly hurt his feelings.” She points at his pacing figure through the kitchen window and it takes everything inside of you not to tell her that he hurt yours first.

The two of you stare each other down, the wills of stubbornness at battle until her eyes go soft, big and glassy.

“Please,” she begs, pulling out the big guns, and jutting out her bottom lip.

You hold her gaze for a few more seconds before surrendering with a roll of your eyes, huffing loudly when you uncross your arms to stand up, making her face light back up.

”I hate you. More than anything.”

Eddie cackles loudly at your lie, digging in his front pocket for a smushed pack of cigarettes.

“We all know you don’t mean that,” she hums with a content smile, leaning over to snatch the freshly lit tobacco from the metalhead’s mouth, waving at you as you start to follow Steve’s path up to the trailer. “Please don’t kill him!”

Closing the sliding glass door behind you, a shiver runs up your spine when the coolness of the air conditioning hits your sticky skin. The sound of running water catches in your ears from the kitchen along with the murmur of his voice under its rush.You can’t quite make out what he’s saying to himself, even when you reach the doorway.

Hunched over the sink, his shoulder blades flex with every harsh scrub of the pan. His hat rests on the counter, and you can’t help but notice the wild way his hair sits on the top of his head from wearing it all day, sun kissed tips curling from the humidity. Clearing your throat just loud enough to alert him of your presence, you watch the way his whole body goes rigid. It only lasts for a moment before he recovers, shutting off the water with a lazy slap of his hand. Turning around he grabs the dish towel next to him to dry off, meeting your gaze with a little more color in his eyes, flecks of gold trying to shimmer in a raging storm.

Having his full attention on you, alone like this, is enough for your tongue to go numb. The back of your throat turns into sandpaper, making it impossible for words to find their way out. A big hand runs through his hair, fingers getting caught on a knot at the end that he works out with ease, a gentle sigh deflating his defensive chest just a little before he speaks.

“Hey.”

Anger still boils under all of the attraction, along with the jealousy you aren’t willing to acknowledge.You aren’t ready. You can’t do this yet.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” you excuse yourself, turning on your heel and leaving just as quickly as you arrived.

You ignore the way he calls after you, seeking solace in the place that's become your hiding spot for the night. Fingers wrap around the handle to the familiar room, you stop in your tracks when a warm patch of light leaking out from a crack in a door that wasn’t opened before catches your attention.

You can smell the cedar from here.

Glancing over your shoulder to see if he followed you, it changes the course of your direction when you discover that he didn’t. Taking a few steps across the hallway, you’re careful not to let the hinges creak when you push his bedroom door open a little more. Your senses quickly become overwhelmed with everything that makes Steve, Steve. You throw another cautious look down the hallway before crossing the invisible line. Closing the door like how you found it, you let your curiosity get the best of you.

It’s cleaner than you thought it’d be now that he doesn’t live inside the Harrington’s massive house anymore. His bed is bigger, the twin sized mattress that you used to squeeze into traded in for a queen. The navy blue comforter that looks soft to the touch is laid out messy on white sheets, a digital clock with glaring red numbers that read 10:30 pm on the nightstand next to it.

The carpet under your feet is a heather gray, and you can tell that it’s scratchy even with your shoes on. Patrick Swayze watches your every move from the Roadhouse poster hanging on his wall, the floor creaking as you make your way toward the small work desk in the corner. Your eyes linger on the impressive way all his dirty clothes manage to be in his hamper before they find the framed pictures spread over his desk.

There’s one of him with the middle school boy you knew as Dustin Henderson perched on his back, only he looks much older than you remembered. The curls still give him away despite the braces free smile. Both of them grin hard enough for their eyes to crinkle in the corners like they had finally stopped laughing long enough for someone to snap this picture.

You fight back the way your cheeks threaten to push up, not surprised to find one of him and Robin at what looks like Lover’s Lake, both of them striking the same pose with inflatable tubes around their waists wearing matching bucket hats and sunglasses.

The guy in these photos doesn’t seem anything like the one you remember and it’s hard for you to wrap your head around it. They look the same.

”I don’t think this is the bathroom, do you?” Steve’s voice makes you jump, heart stopping in your chest for a split second before you meet his questioning stare with a guilty face of your own.

His arms are crossed over his chest as leans against the door frame, unintentionally pulling the collar of his shirt down giving you a glimpse of the patch of hair and the gold chain underneath. The softness in his eyes from the kitchen is gone as he stares you down, it’s replaced with something you can’t quite put your finger on but the intensity of it raking over your body has your thighs meeting for what feels like the millionth time tonight. His full pink lips twist into a sarcastic smirk as he pushes off the wood, taking the next few steps into his room.

”Did you really mean what you said out there?” He questions, dark eyes sparkling the more you squirm under the heat of them.

”Mean what? I said a lot of things out there. We all did.” Narrowing your gaze, you try to take back some semblance of control, squaring up your shoulders at him but the dark chuckle you get in response tells you it’s a futile attempt.

“I didn’t say anything about you specifically though, did I?” Steve counters, stopping just a few feet away from you, tongue poking at the side of his cheek, “No, I don’t think I did.”

He hums, uncrossing his arms to mimic your stance in a silent challenge, eyebrows raised waiting on your response.

”I didn’t say anything about you specifically either.” Jutting out your chin in defiance, it's your turn to cross your arms now. Maturity at its finest.

He doesn’t answer you, instead he holds your eyes with his own and it takes everything inside of you not to look away. Your tongue swipes against your bottom lip as he starts to take a few steps closer, broad shoulders making the room feel small when the toes of his sneakers meet yours.

“I don’t think you ever faked anything with me.” He looks down his nose at you, smelling like summer nights and everything you’ve tried to forget.

”You think or you know?” Cocking a brow with a shit eating grin that tells him you aren’t going to fold easy, the backs of your thighs hit the edge of his desk.

He sucks at his teeth, rolling his shoulders with the kind of laugh that makes the dull ache between your legs turn into a throb.

“I know. Trust me.” He smirks, gaze lingering where the soft dough of your thighs meet before finding your eyes again, “Guess what else I know?”

It's hard for you to catch your breath when he looks at you like this and you wonder if he notices the quick heaves of your chest or the way your eyes glaze over from being this close to him.

”W-what?” Your stutter gives you away, but at least you tried to fight one last time before he went in for the kill.

The whites of his teeth show in the kind of smile that tells you he was hoping you’d ask just that. Leaning in, his palms land on his desk finding purchase on either side of your hips, caging you in. He’s close enough for the tip of his nose to brush against yours, close enough to smell the wheat from his beer on the warm breath that fans against your lips.

“You wouldn’t still look at me the way you do, if I hadn’t made you feel good honey. And you know what else?”

His voice goes deep as he whispers, nose nudging at your cheek before his lips hover right by your ear making you shiver, goosebumps making their second appearance of the day. Your hands find the edge of his desk, chest brushing against his in a deep breath feeling the slightest touch of his lips against the soft spot right behind it.

“I know I can make you cum harder with my tongue than some Wall Street asshole, who doesn’t even know what to do under the hood of that fancy car he spent so much money on.” His grip on the desk tightens at the thought, wood groaning under the stress of it and it has your thighs spreading for him on their own.

“Steve -”

His fingers grab your chin like at the shop with just a firm enough hold for you to pull away if you want to but you can’t bring yourself to do it when his eyes threaten to swallow you whole. You wonder if it's just a mirror reflection of your own as he takes some of the new space you’ve given him, so close now that you can feel the heat of his body where yours screams for him most. His brows furrow when your noses brush and he swears he can taste the watermelon of your lip gloss, and then he knows he can when he feels your fingers curl into his shirt tugging him closer.

“I think,” he breathes into your mouth, hesitating just enough to soak it in a second longer before pulling away with an almost pained expression that he quickly tries to cover up, “I think it’s time for me to take you and Robin home.”

He steps back and out of your space, a nervous hand running through his hair like he did something he wasn’t supposed to do. His eyes meet yours again and there's something apologetic that swirls in the deep forest that watches you tug your skirt down straightening up.

”I’ll uh, I’ll give you a minute while I go wrangle Robin.”

He takes one last look at you like he really needs to be sure of something before finally walking out and leaving you alone to wonder how the night ended with you here. Skirt rucked up, trying to catch your breath in Steve Harrington’s room.

———-

🌻 beta’d by @superblysubpar

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mochegato · 3 years ago

Text

Even the Losers

Chapter 17

Chapter 1 Chapter 16

Marinette shook her head and tried to hide her giggles. Red Robin had to have thought he was being discrete, right? Unless he was intentionally making himself known as a way to intimidate any more rogues from trying to get to her. He was discrete enough that the average person probably wouldn’t notice him, but anyone paying attention, looking for him, would see him easily.

She waited until he was looking down at her again and waved at him. He smiled and waved back before blushing, shaking his head, and motioning for her to continue. Marinette grinned and looked back at the map on her phone. The restaurant Jason chose was around here somewhere. One of the places he just ended up at a lot, he said. Low key and cozy, exactly the kind of place she needed right now.

After that, he said he was planning on following her around for the rest of the day. He’d said it in a joking tone, but she knew there was nothing joking about his intent. He would be shadowing her for the rest of the day. He couldn’t hide the gravity behind the statement. He couldn’t mask the concerned questions, no matter how casually he tried to play them off. The insistence on seeing her apartment, make sure the view was good enough and the kitchen was stocked enough. The way he casually suggested she teach him how to make a baked good she liked.

Honestly, she was shocked he let her walk there on her own, but he said he’d be have eyes on her anyway. She looked back up at Red Robin with a smile. Clearly, he wasn’t kidding. White lensed eyes. The smile quickly morphed into a frown when she couldn’t see him. He hadn’t been hidden this whole time, so where was he now? She squeaked and whirled around into a fighting stance when she heard someone land behind her. She barely had time to put her hands down before Red Robin was standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder while he looked around, eyes sharp and calculating.

Marinette followed his lead and scanned the crowd. In lieu of knowing what she was looking for, she kept her eye out for anything that seemed out of place. Everything looked normal though. Nothing seemed suspicious. There were a few people throwing them odd looks, but nothing that seemed hostile or calculating, instead it seemed more curious and fearful of what having a vigilante dropping down in the middle of the night meant for them.

Red Robin turned back to face her. “Let’s get you somepl…” his hand went up to his ear. “Shit!”

Marinette’s eyes widened in fear. “What happened? Did someone get hurt?”

Red Robin’s eyes looked around them again and narrowed at one of the buildings. He moved his arm to her back and firmly pushed her toward the building. “Nobody is hurt.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “But…”

“There’s just an issue that needs attention, but nobody has been hurt,” he assured her, looking down briefly to meet her eyes.

Marinette nodded uncertainly, not feeling calmer with his reassurance. She couldn’t see his eyes past the white filters to gauge his sincerity, and it was unsettling. “So my friend and brother, my… the Waynes, they’re… nobody is hurt?”

Red Robin paused almost imperceptibly. If she hadn’t become used to his constant pressure on her back, she wouldn’t have noticed. He looked back down at her as they walked, the tense muscles in his face softened considerably. “They’re all safe. Your friend and brother and family. They’re all safe. I promise. I just need to go assist someone, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “I can defend myself you know.”

Red Robin gave her a deadpan expression. She’s sure if he didn’t have a mask, he’d have his own eyebrow raised at her. “After last night, you can understand that we and your family are a bit concerned and perhaps a bit overprotective just right now.”

Marinette rolled her eyes with a sigh but didn’t fight him. “So you’re going to, what? Hide me in some abandoned office until everything blows over? That sounds safe.”

Red Robin huffed out a laugh. “Absolutely safe. That is our standard approach. I’m glad you understand how we operate.” He gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher with his mask in the way. “No. I think your family would hunt me down if I did something so reckless with you. They’re quite protective, you know?”

Marinette opened her mouth to say something but shut it quickly. He was a stranger. There was absolutely no reason to get into her family dynamics with him. “No,” he continued, oblivious to her uncertainty. “I’m going to stash you with someone we know we can trust.”

Marinette looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “A babysitter.”

The corners of Red Robin’s mouth quirked up. “Well, if you’re going to whine like a baby…” he teased.

Marinette gasped dramatically. “If you want whining, I can show you whining. I grew up with the most spoiled brat in existence. I can give new meaning to the word.” Red Robin actually laughed as he opened the door to the business. “You know, I’m supposed to meet my… um… br… brother,” she stuttered over the word. “Jason’s going to wonder about me.”

Red Robin cringed slightly. “You should probably text him. It isn’t a good idea for you to go out until this is resolved.” Marinette nodded and shot a text off to Jason letting him know she was okay and Red Robin was putting her somewhere safe for a bit.

They heard movement from the building, finally drawing Marinette’s attention to the business they had gone into. “Can I help… T… Red Robin? Marinette?” Roy asked pushing out from behind a motorcycle with its transmission in his hands.

“Hey, I was hoping you could watch Marinette while I take care of something. You’re a friend with the Waynes right?” Red Robin asked pointedly.

Roy stared at him for a few seconds before realization set in. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re like fam…” he looked over to Marinette, “well, not family family. But, uh, yeah.”

Red Robin cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. “No, I’m pretty sure you are con…” he was cut off by something in his com. He paused for a moment to listen before turning back to Roy with what Marinette was pretty sure was supposed to be a glare. “I’m trusting you,” he growled. “There’s some madness going on.”

Roy’s face turned serious and he gave him a determined nod. “I’ll protect her. Go.”

Red Robin looked between them for a second then nodded and took off. Roy and Marinette watched him leave for a second before turning back to each other. Marinette gave him a shy smile. “Hi,” she waved sheepishly. “Sorry to just drop in on you like this.”

Roy gave her a welcoming smile and motioned to the garage bay. “Not at all. I guess you’re just visiting sooner than we anticipated. Can’t say I’m upset at all.” He moved some parts off of a stool and motioned toward it for her to sit. “I should say sorry that you have to hunker down here. You definitely look like you were going somewhere a bit nicer.”

Marinette looked down at her outfit analytically, a blood red, long-sleeved blouse, black skinny jeans, and black heeled boots. She’d wanted to wear ladybug colors after the previous night in the Riddler’s facility and the Wayne dining room. Ladybug colors always reminded her of the strongest, most resilient parts of herself. She looked back up at him, her eyes catching on the coat rack behind him. “Excuse you. All I need is that jacked over there and I’d fit right in. In fact, I’d match your baby.”

Roy looked to where she was looking, seeing his black leather jacket hanging up. He blushed slightly at the idea of her wearing his jacket. He could picture it on her, the jacket hanging loosely off of her significantly smaller frame, her clinging to him as they rode on his bike… He looked back at her with a soft look. “And you would still be too classy to be here.”

Marinette pouted at him. “You say that like I don’t fit in.” She didn’t want to say the ‘with you’ that was running through her head. Did he think she wouldn’t fit with him? “I can fit. I can even be helpful.”

Roy shook his head. “No, not at all just…” He motioned to his own clothes, an old tee, stained jeans, and a backwards ball cap that was just as stained with grease as his jeans, and then motioned to her.

Marinette looked between the two of them and grinned. “You underestimate my ability to get dirty. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be as dirty as you.”

Roy’s eyes snapped to the wrench in his hand. Based on the complete lack of amusement or sultriness in her eyes, she did not at all realize what she just said. He took a few seconds, it may have been minutes, to calm his heart and mind. “Okay, how about you prove it?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “Prove what?”

“That you can be helpful. Roll up those sleeves and help me with this engine.” He motioned to the transmission on the workbench next to her. “I can also get you some coveralls so your outfit won’t get dirty if you prefer.” He looked back at her with an amused glint in his eyes. “They’ll be a bit big on you…” Marinette narrowed her eyes at him but his eyes danced with even more amusement at her reaction. “Since you’re so litt…”

“You know what…” she cut him off, standing to get in his personal space. She stared up at him, her eyes meeting his for a moment before her cheeks burst into color. She looked away and cleared her throat. After a second to recover, she motioned to the transmission as she rolled up her sleeves. “Just tell me what you’re doing and how I can help.”

Roy grinned and twirled the wrench in his hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

He leaned over the transmission and started loosening one of the nuts holding the piece together. His hand faltered for a fraction of a second when Marinette leaned next to him, close enough for him to feel her breath as she let out a sigh, close enough to feel her body heat. Close enough he could easily wrap his arms around her and pull her against him. He had to tighten his hands to keep them from reaching over.

He took a breath to focus. Now was not the time. She had just been kidnapped and people could take a bit of time to recover from something like that, especially considering the things she had said about having a breakdown. He flicked his eyes over to her trying to assess how she was doing. Her eyes were intently watching his hands as they moved around the transmission. They were sharp and her body seemed to be relaxing the longer she watched him work. If he didn’t know better, he’d never know she had been kidnapped and threatened the night before.

She looked up at him questioningly when his hands stilled as he analyzed her. He gave her a small smile and motioned toward the tool box. “Um… I need… Can you, um, get me the, um… 5/16th wrench, please?” he stuttered.

Marinette jumped up to search through the wrenches in the box. She frowned, her lip jutting out as she searched. “I don’t see it here. Is there somewhere else it could be?”

Roy’s face scrunched as he tried to remember where else he might have used it. He’d been working on the bike almost all day. He looked back at the motorcycle trying to remember what he had done with it. He was broken from his concentration by Marinette’s light giggle. He looked over to her with a raised brow.

Marinette looked away quickly, another blush on her cheeks. She followed where his line of sight had been and searched around the motorcycle, focusing her energy on her search for the wrench instead of the adorable face he made when he was concentrating and the way his nose wrinkled up in thought and his lips quirked to the side. After a minute of looking she shook her head and held her empty hands out for him to see.

“Any other ideas?” she asked as she came back over to her stool.

Roy sighed deeply and scanned the workbench. He had a backup set of wrenches, but he knew he had used that one recently. It couldn’t have gone too far. His attention was brought back to Marinette when she giggled again, her giggles turning into full blown laughter. He gave her a confused look which made her laugh louder. She reached over the workbench, almost climbing onto it to grab the wrench that was behind the transmission. She held the wrench out to him triumphantly with a smug, teasing smile on her lips.

Roy fought choking on air at the sight of her climbing onto his workbench and all the images that immediately flooded into his mind involving that particular scenario, especially in his jacket… and nothing else. He took the wrench, hoping she believed the blush he knew was on his cheek was from embarrassment rather than where his thoughts had gone. “Thanks,” he managed to mutter out.

“Anytime,” she grinned back. “See?” she motioned to herself. “Helpful.”

Roy chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around then.”

Marinette chuckled and let her focus settle back on the part he was working on. She watched his hands move effortlessly and confidently over the pieces. “Flathead screwdriver,” he asked, holding out his hand for her. She quickly grabbed one and slapped it in his hand like he was a surgeon. He looked up at her with a grin. “Thanks, nurse.”

Marinette shook her head and let her gaze pass over the garage bay. She quirked her head to the side when her eyes settled on a bow leaning up against the wall by the door. “What’s with the bow?”

Roy’s head jerked up. His eyes immediately found his bow and quiver. He looked back at her with an almost natural smile. “Oh, I just… like to shoot.”

“It’s yours?” she asked perking up.

“Yeah… I just pulled it out… recently.” His eyes flicked to the cut on her cheek quickly before returning to the transmission.

Marinette looked back at the bow. “That sounds fun. I always wanted to learn. How did you learn?”

Roy’s eyes took on a far off look and a sentimental smile spread on his lips. “My father, my adopted father.”

“Oliver?” Marinette asked, confusion clear in her voice as she tried to reconcile the sentimental smile with his description in the bar.

“Ah, so you know,” Roy said quietly, eyes suddenly in focus and pointed at the transmission.

Marinette gave him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. Damian… he um… thought I knew,” she stuttered out. She really didn’t want to get into that conversation right now. She was sure Roy would be upset and it was just something she wanted to leave between her and Damian, not someone else. “He just mentioned it yesterday.”

Roy nodded and flicked his eyes up to her for a second, gauging her reaction, waiting for the questions. There were always questions. Questions about Oliver, questions about their relationship, questions about their money. The exact combination might change but they were always there. “Sorry for bringing it up,” she said quietly.

Roy shook his head, with a small smile. “No. It isn’t your fault. No not Oliver. It was before Oliver. My birth father died saving me from a forest fire and a man named Brave Bow adopted me. He raised me. He was a really good man. He taught me how to be a good person and how to shoot… and just about everything else I know.”

The smile on Roy’s face made Marinette smile too. “He sounds like a good father.”

Roy nodded. “He was,” he said quietly. He looked over at her hesitantly before focusing back on the piece he was working on. “How are you feeling?”

Marinette quirked her head to the side. “Feeling? Not as useful as I could be. A burden on you more than a help, if I’m being honest,” she shrugged.

Roy snorted. “Sorry, I’ll try to get you to do more of my work for me.” He sent her a smirk that got an eye roll out of her. “And I would never call you a burden. In fact, I’d fight to keep you nearby,” he added quietly, no longer meeting her eyes. He tried to focus on the transmission but he could feel her eyes on him, making it impossible to think of anything else.

After a few seconds he cleared his throat. “I mean after,” he motioned toward her face, his hand still grasping the gear he had just removed. “How are you handling it? The Riddler’s no joke.”

Marinette scoffed and picked up a wrench. She spun it in her hand as a distraction while she spoke. “He really isn’t. I didn’t find him funny at all.” Roy gave her a flat look and returned to working on the part, letting her decide to continue discussing it or not. “How did you know?” she asked quietly.

“He broadcast it to all Gotham. Everybody knows. Everybody saw you deliver the verbal smack down of the century,” he grinned at her. “It was inspiring. You were amazing.”

“I was pissed is what I was,” she grumbled. She looked away and sighed, running her hand over her face and grimacing when she accidentally touched her cut. “I forgot everyone would see that.”

She stared at the wrench as she twirled it in her hands. She knew the Waynes probably knew she was taken. She’d called Jason to let him know she was fine, but had pretended she had to go talk to the police and cut the call short. She really didn’t want to talk to them after the scene at dinner. She didn’t want to have the conversations she knew they were going to want to have. She just wanted to move on. It didn’t have anything to do with them, especially the kids. It was her past, one they had no way of knowing about and no way of helping with. There was no reason to hash through it all again.

But she hadn’t realized they would get to see the full video. She frowned at the thought. She’d said so much while she was yelling and she couldn’t remember what all she had said. It was a moment of weakness that now the entire city, possibly the world now knew about. Thankfully she was positive she didn’t mention anything about the miraculous so to anyone watching she would have looked like any other normal, non-miraculous wielding person.

And on top of it all, she wasn’t sure if she was grateful or upset that M. Wayne hadn’t reached out to see if she was alright. All of the kids had even Lucius had, but not him… or Alfred. After the way she left, he might not feel like he’s allowed to. But still… he hadn’t bothered to check on her at all.

She looked up with a weak smile. “Guess I’ve truly experienced Gotham now.”

Roy grimaced. “Sorry about that.” He watched her as she seemed to work through her feelings on the matter, going from annoyed to hurt. He returned his attention to the engine part. “I think I need to start calling you Fire Flower.”

Marinette looked up at him curiously. “Fire Flower?”

“Yeah,” he looked up briefly with a spark in his eyes. “It’s like a fire cracker, but cuter. More impressive to look at.” Marinette blushed and looked down, accidentally dropping the wrench she had been playing with. Roy grinned widely at her before focusing back on his work. “You sure you feel safe?” he asked, still focusing on the engine.

Marinette nodded. “I have Adrien and Max. We might not look like we can protect ourselves, but we’re pretty good at it.” Actually incredibly well. She was possibly the best protected person in the world right now, but he didn’t have any way of knowing that.

“I’m actually pretty surprised Adrien isn’t with you right now or Max.” He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow.

Marinette nodded. “You’re not wrong. They would be but Max just started work and couldn’t really take a day off immediately and Adrien had a job interview in Metropolis today. And this is the one he’s really excited about. I was supposed to go with him and check out Metropolis, but then I wouldn’t have had anyone with me while he was in the interview and that made them a bit too nervous. Here at least they know I have the bats following me at all times so, they were pretty confident I was safe.”

“The bats are keeping an eye on you, huh?” Roy asked with a secretive grin.

Marinette nodded. “I’m not sure if they’re trying to be subtle, but yeah. I don’t know what kind of relationship they have with the Waynes. They mentioned… the bats certainly act like they talk a lot and know each other well.”

Roy froze for a second. Well, they certainly weren’t being as discrete as they normally are, it would seem. Although after last night, he could imagine they were pretty flustered. He had been and she was just an acquaintance to him. He wanted it to be more but… that wasn’t the point. But at this rate, she was going to figure it out before they told her and he didn’t imagine that going well for them. “So you’ve caught them a few times?”

“Caught is a liberal term for it. Is it catching if they aren’t really hiding? I think Red Robin might have been trying… maybe, but Batman was on our balcony, standing vigil all night last night.”

Roy glanced over for a second. “Batman was watching over your apartment last night?”

Marinette nodded. “Markov said he was there until Red Robin took over some time around breakfast.”

Roy paused for a few seconds then tapped the screwdriver against the workbench. “And… Bruce? Did Bruce check in on you?”

Marinette looked away and licked her lips before pursing them. She twisted the wrench around a few more times, focusing entirely on that, not meeting Roy’s eyes. “No,” she finally said in a falsely calm voice. “I… I didn’t… Dinner didn’t go so well.”

Roy moved closer to her until he was close enough to reach her comfortably but still gave her space so he wasn’t crowding her. He ducked his head to try to meet her eyes. She yielded quickly and met his eyes. “He’s worried about you. I guarantee you he is. He’s just… shit at emotions and reading a room.

“If you guys fought, I promise you he isn’t less worried about you, he’s just afraid that seeing him or hearing from him will upset you more. I promise you he’s finding out everything he can about how you are from anyone that will tell him. He cares. Your fight didn’t push him away. He’s just a fucking idiot. And an asshole, so there’s like a 97% chance if you did fight, it was his fault. And he probably knows that, just not how to make it up to you.”

Marinette huffed out a laugh despite her eyes suddenly turning glassy. “I don’t need him to make it up, just… it’s not even his fault. It was mine really.” She fiddled with the wrench in her hands, testing the strength, trying to bend it, focusing on that as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“I doubt it.” He sighed and readjusted his cap as he tried to come up with the right words. “I’ve found that when bad things happen at the manor it’s almost always because Bruce was being a controlling little bitch.” Instead of laughing, she frowned at the wrench. Right, calling her father, she’s trying to connect to a ‘controlling little bitch’ probably isn’t really helping. He sighed and looked back up trying to figure out how to remove the frown. It didn’t look right on her face. She should be smiling. Always. “Do you want a hug?”

Marinette finally looked up from the wrench in surprise. After a second she gave him a weak smile and shook her head, returning her focus to the wrench. “I’m fine.”

Roy lightly placed his hand on the wrench to stop its motion. “That’s not what I asked,” he said gently.

She blinked at him a few times before a smirk quirked her lips up. “I mean… I’m not going to object to a handsome man wrapping his arms around me,” she answered slyly, throwing his words from days earlier back at him. Roy grinned and wrapped his arms around her, gently at first but holding her tighter as the hug went on. His arms were strong and reassuring, giving a sense of warmth and safety and Marinette quickly found herself melting into his embrace. She nuzzled into his chest and dear God, she could feel his muscles moving through his shirt with every minute movement.

She tried to hide her frown when he pulled away after a few minutes. But, it turned into a smile when he stopped after a few inches, just enough to look down at her. Roy smiled softly and rubbed her cheek with his thumb a few times. Marinette leaned into his hand, captivated by the feel of his hand on her face. He started to lean down but jumped away with the sound of clattering right next to them. Roy moved in front of her, caging her in behind him as he looked for the source of the sound.

Marinette grimaced and leaned down to pick up the wrench that had slipped through her fingers when she was looking at Roy. He chuckled awkwardly and moved back to his transmission. He started working on it again a lot slower than he had been before. His hands were shaking slightly. He could still feel the traces of her on his fingers and around his chest, trilling through him. “Can you… um… the. Can you hand me the Phillips head, please?” he stuttered, unable to get his mind settled.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, her cheeks still bright red, as her mind tried to kick back into gear. She looked at the tools in the toolbox and back to him. “Is… that’s a tool, not like a horror movie thing, right?”

Roy blinked a few times before breaking out in laughter. Marinette smiled at his laughter, beyond grateful for the change of topic. “The one with the cross for a head,” he said motioning toward the screwdrivers.

“Oh,” Marinette nodded in understanding. “Tournevis cruciform,” she muttered to herself as she searched through the tools for the right screwdriver. “Americans and their naming things.”

Roy grinned at her outrage. “And what do you call it? The cross screwdriver.” he teased.

“That is literally what it translates to,” she deadpanned.

Roy puckered his lips in an attempt at keeping a smile off his lips and make his annoyed wrinkled brow more believable. “Oh, well I bow to your superior naming capabilities,” he snarked with a fake bow.

Marinette nodded graciously and passed the screwdriver to him. “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

Roy laughed and returned to the transmission, pretending like he could focus on that instead of the kiss they almost had. Marinette watched, almost transfixed as he moved the gears synchronously on the transmission, creating intricate and ever changing patterns. She pulled her sketchbook and pencil out to capture a sudden idea.

“The wrench?” Roy called out, not looking up from the transmission. He held out his hand and waited for a few seconds before adding, “Please?” He waited a little longer before repeating it a bit louder. “Wrench, please?” He finally looked up when she still hadn’t handed it to him. “Marinette?” He looked over to her concerned. His face immediately softened when he saw her.

Marinette’s face was frozen in intense concentration on her sketchbook as she drew confidently and without hesitation. She held the sketchbook out and tilted it slightly. She narrowed her eyes at it and tilted it a different way. Her mouth curved into a satisfied smirk before she added in more details and notes. Her eyes lit up with inspiration, bright and clear. She shook her head to get a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, hands too busy committing her inspiration to paper to waste time with such trivialities. Roy shook his head, mentally berating himself for having backed off before. She had been right there and leaning toward him. Maybe Jason and Dick… and Tim and Damian, were right. He was an idiot.

Before Roy realized what he was doing, he had reached out to tuck it behind her ear, being careful to avoid her cut as his fingers brushed her face. Marinette jumped at the unexpected contact. She looked up at him wide eyed but a sheepish look quickly overtook her expression. She looked down in embarrassment, but that only pressed her face further into Roy’s hand, which made her embarrassed blush deepen but not due to embarrassment this time. “Sorry. Did you need a tool?”

Roy shook his head. He smiled and moved his hand slightly so it was cupping her face this time. “It’s fine. I was enjoying watching you get caught up in inspiration.”

Marinette looked down again and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. It is probably the most embarrassing face.��

Roy smiled softly at her, his eyes shining with sincerity and fondness. “No. It wasn’t. It was cute.” He took a step closer to her and leaned a bit closer, more intimately. “I wouldn’t mind seeing it more.”

“More of my too distracted to pay attention to you face?” she smirked and leaned closer to him.

“Any version of your face you’ll let me see. Although I would prefer to see it with fewer cuts,” he frowned at the cut on her cheek as he rubbed a soothing line just below the bruise that had formed around the cut. He leaned closer to examine the cut until his lips were centimeters from her cheek. He flicked his eyes to her half lidded ones and leaned to close the distance.

“Hey, guys!” Dick boomed as he came into the room. Marinette and Roy jumped apart, or rather Roy jumped away and Marinette straightened up on the stool, grabbing the workbench to keep from falling off. “Sorry I’m late. And sorry I’m here instead of Jason. He got… caught up in the attack. Not personally!” he rushed to assure Marinette when her eyes widened and body stiffened. “I meant he’s dealing with the fallout. Jason is fine. He’d just be really, really late and asked if I could come over here instead. If that’s okay.”

Marinette nodded, but her eyes were still slightly widened. “Of course. But you’re sure Jason’s okay?”

“Absolutely,” Dick shot her a charming smile. “He’s just going to need a bit of time to deal with things,” he lied smoothly. He looked between Marinette and Roy with narrowed eyes and moved between them as he hugged Marinette. “He really, really wanted to be here with you today. I think he’s planning on attaching himself to you tomorrow though.”

Marinette chuckled lightly. “That’s okay. We’ll have fun doing something.” Her face suddenly sobered. “Oh, no, wait. I have lunch with Duke and Cass tomorrow. I mean… I think I have lunch with them. We had planned it, but that was before…” she trailed off, not wanting to go into detail at all, but especially in front of Roy.

“I’m sure you still do,” Dick assured her. “They’re probably just waiting to get confirmation from you in case the last few days were a bit much and you wanted a break.”

“No!” Marinette exclaimed. “No. I’ll text them. Thanks.”

“But I get you for tonight. How do you feel about a movie marathon?” he grinned widely, already planning a full night’s marathon with her, Adrien, and Max. She had to love Disney movies, right? Who didn’t love Disney movies?

“I like movies,” Roy chirped with a teasing grin.

“No,” he answered sharply. He turned back to Marinette with a mock sympathetic smile. “You must have been so bored here.”

Roy narrowed his eyes back at him but Marinette jumped up to defend Roy. “Not at all. It was interesting watching him working on the bike. I got some good inspiration too.”

Roy raised a pointed eyebrow at him with a smug grin. “Motorcycles remind her of her grandmother.”

Dick looked back at Marinette who was looking back at Roy with a surprised expression. “Good memory.”

“I remember important things,” he shrugged.

Dick glared at him. “Uh huh. But not to check if things are loaded.” He looked back at Marinette. “You’ve got something just there,” he motioned to the cheek Roy had stroked earlier. “You might want to get that grease off.”

“Oh!” Marinette exclaimed grabbing her cheek, almost succeeding in covering the blush that flushed on her cheeks. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

Roy nodded and motioned toward the bathroom. “Just right over there.”

As soon as the door closed, Dick punched Roy’s shoulder. Roy frowned at him. “What?”

“What the Hell are you doing?” Dick hissed and motioned toward the bathroom.

“What?” Roy answered rubbing his shoulder. At least it was just Dick. If it was Jason, he’d be rubbing his jaw right now. “Tim dropped her off here. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her?”

“You were supposed to not hit on her,” he grumbled.

“That’s just unreasonable,” Roy rolled his eyes and leaned back against the workbench. He motioned to the bathroom. “Have you met her? She’s smart and sassy and really sweet. She's funny and obviously gorgeous. Who doesn’t want to hit on her?”

“Yeah. I’ve met her. Didn’t hit on her.” Dick let out a long suffering sigh. “Jesus, Roy! I’ve had her as a sister for like a week. I don’t want to lose her because I’m in jail for killing you.”

“You’re her brother, you don’t count in the hitting on her count. And please,” Roy scoffed, “you’re too good to go to jail for it.”

“True. Just…” he narrowed his eyes at him and pointed at him threateningly, “if you mess around and hurt her… I’ll choose her over you. And I won’t forget to load the magazines and Jason will be more than happy to use them.”

“That’s hurtful,” Roy groused. “One time. I forgot to load the magazines one time.”

“Yeah, in the middle of a mission!” Dick whisper hissed.

“You survived,” Roy shrugged. “Stop being such a baby. But I get it. I’d choose her over me too. Or you. But if you were going to kill anyone for hurting her, Riddler wouldn’t still be alive… or Bruce.”

Dick pursed his lips at the reminder of how Bruce had treated Marinette, of everything that had come up the night before. His anger quickly deflating. He looked toward the bathroom, his eyes softening. They really needed to work harder to support her, to assure her they weren’t holding her at arm’s length. Maybe talk to Bruce about telling her the truth. That seemed like the only possible way to salvage this. “How does she seem to be doing?”

Roy shrugged and watched the bathroom door to make sure she wouldn’t walk in on the conversation. “Actually doesn’t seem too bothered by the Riddler incident. She’s more anxious about the family knowing.” He pursed his lips and picked up a transmission piece, pretending to examine it. “Bruce hasn’t said anything or made any attempts as far as she knows.”

Dick sighed and massaged his temples. “That should surprise me more than it does.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Last night… dinner didn’t… some things came out that Bruce didn’t know. Things she had to go through. He’s beating himself up over it. Too ashamed to talk to her.”

Roy sighed and shook his head. Bruce was going to lose her before he even had her at this point. “That have anything to do with why she’s so unaffected by having been taken captive by one of the most dangerous rogues in Gotham?” Dick’s resigned sigh was enough confirmation for him. “Fuck,” he grumbled. “She thinks it’s her fault he doesn’t want to bother with her anymore.”

“Damn it,” Dick grumbled, drawing out the words in frustration. He ran his hand over his face and collapsed on the stool she had been on earlier. “Good to know. Thanks.”

Roy nodded and threw the part back on the workbench. “How’s Jay doing?”

“He’ll be okay. Tim got there in time to stop him from going too far, but he’s going to need a few hours, maybe the night to let the Pit Madness recede. And I think he’s really nervous about showing any part of that to Marinette.”

They both snapped their attention to Marinette when she came back. “My cheek look better?” she turned her cheek for them to see. “I mean obviously not the cut.”

“Yeah, you look beautiful.” Roy assured her and handed her purse to her.

Dick glared at Roy. “Could you stop hitting on my sister for five seconds?” he hissed low enough for Marinette not to hear. He turned to Marinette before Roy could respond. “Ready to go? I don’t know about you but I’m hungry.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Dick walked ahead of her, pretending like he didn’t notice her lag behind. When he was almost out the door, she turned to Roy and gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for babysitting me today and for the tour the other day. I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Roy nodded and handed her his phone with a spot for Fire Flower already started in his contacts. “If your plans ever get canceled again or you need to hide out or you need to borrow a jacket so you fit in, give me a call, Fire Flower.”

Marinette put her number in and passed it back to him with a grin. “You have extra you can just loan out?”

Roy grinned back and nodded. “A few jackets, suit coats, shirts, ties, clean pants, even a few pairs of coveralls, none of which would fit you, but if you ever need them… Or even if you don’t need anything, just want to talk or hang out, let me know.”

“Marinette! I thought you were ready to go?” Dick yelled.

Marinette shook her head and sighed. She waved to Roy as she rushed out. “Thanks again!”

Roy watched her leave until he couldn’t see her anymore. He let out a deep sigh and collapsed against the workbench. He looked at his phone and quickly sent a text with a smile.

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8 @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #prompt - no miraculous au #this is the last chapter I have written already so updates are going to be more sporadic from here on out #mbdbwm2021

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solliewriter · 3 years ago

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Archery for Writers

In this post, I'll basically tell you the small stuff: e.g., what your archer will complain about to other archers, how different bows sound, what it's like shooting in the rain or snow, finding the goddamn arrows, etc. I’m also going into technical details and will discuss the legendary Robin Hood shot.

If you want a good basic primer, T.S. Strange on Instagram did a pretty good job https://www.instagram.com/p/COat-W1rQ7o/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

But, if you're ready for beyond the basics, I've got you covered.

To be clear, my knowledge of archery is primarily Western traditional archery. PLEASE research the history of the type of bow you choose as they’re all unique. There’s a reason why Mongolian bows are so different than English longbows.

I have primarily shot in thick, brushy forest (not parks, actual wilderness), so when you read, that I'm talking about that setting unless specified. My favored bow is a reflex/deflex, which is basically a recurve/longbow hybrid. I have also been doing archery for as long as I can remember, so yes I know how to shoot.

SOUNDS

Different bows make different sounds. Recurve bows are loud. They make this twangy sound when you use them, unless you put a silencer on the string. This silencer is usually a fluff-type thing that is woven around and through the string. The silencer doesn't make them perfectly silent. It's more of a muffler than a silencer.

Longbows are quieter, but they still make noise. It's short, grunt-like hum that usually only the archer and their immediate compatriots can hear.

For Your Character (FYC): a recurve archer and a longbow archer will very likely pester each other about noise.

SIGHT, pt1

You can shoot blind. Sorta. No, you can't put on a blindfold and still hit your target, but you can and will extrapolate what you see. As mentioned, I've done almost all of my shooting in the forest, in the mountains. Visibility is less than perfect. You have to aim through hundreds of branches, and the likelihood of hitting a branch and sending your arrow flying into No Man's Land is very likely as a beginner and amateur. Shooting through the forest isn't like in Lord of the Rings or Hunger Games, unless that forest is a well maintained park with marked trails made by things other than deer and bear. (FYI, bear trails are perfect for humans.) Half the time, if you move an inch the wrong way, your arrow will be way off target. Missing by an inch means missing by several feet, which is really far in archery.

More than once, you see your target at one angle, but can't shoot it at another. I've experienced this frequently because my Viking sized dad will pick targets that I, his 5'2" daughter, am too short to see. I have to stand on tip toes to see his target, then lower myself into almost a crouch to shoot. I still hit the target.

FYC: Besides the obvious banter that comes from discussing height differences, there are a few other things to note. In the forest, it can be hard to find two good angles to shoot something. This can lead to frustration, complaining, attempts to get the other archer out of the way, and etc.

SIGHT, pt 2

I’m talking about recurve/longbows, so there are no actual sights to look through.

This is where things are controversial. There’s a gap shooting and an instinctive shooting. Gap shooters guess the distance, then aim. Instinctive shooters just sorta ... wing it.

I’m not going to throw shade at either method. But here’s a key reason why one would use one style or another: gap shooting is largely ineffective in mountainous, forested terrain when you can’t really see much. So, if you have an archer from a prairie and an archer from the mountains, it’s likely they use different aiming styles.

Side note: Flu-flu shots are unique and fun shots that use big feathery arrows. You shoot nearly straight up in hopes of getting your arrow on top of the target rather than straight toward it. When doing this, you can either look at the target or look at your arrow angle, but you can't do both at the same time. You have to shoot blind. Flu-flu shots aren't good for killing creatures, but they are pure fun. This is a good example of using instinctive shooting rather than gap shooting. Also, flu-flu shots are prone to being highly effective by the wind, and it’s very easy to get them stuck in a tree for all eternity. There’s a shooting area my roving family calls “The Valley of Lost Flu-Flu’s.” It’s called this for very good reason.

SMELLS

Bows don't smell, unless you've just added beeswax to the string (strings fray, wax stops that). Arrows smell for about a day after you paint them and glue them.

Leather, however, smells and remains smelly forever. I personally like the smell (though I suppose I'm actually smelling the oil, not the leather). It's very hard to describe, partially because I have so many memories involved. Unfortunately, I have to leave this to you. Just note, leather from armguards, quivers, and pouches don't smell the same as couches and your typical urbanite materials. Find your hippie friend and ask them to make you a leather bracelet or something. That'll teach you the smell.

FYC: Your archer will have very strong memories associated with the smell of leather and beeswax. They will be warm fuzzy memories.

TOUCH, aka shooting in the cold weather

All right, it's cold, and your character is wearing a big coat. Big, puffy sleeves to fit all those layers beneath. No biggie, just nock the arrow, draw, and shoot ...

FWAP!

The string hits the character's coat sleeve. The arrow goes about ten feet before falling limp to the ground like a sad puppy.

To fix this, you need to tie a thick band around your character's sleeve. Easy peasy.

Now, your OC tries shooting again. Unfortunately, it’s been raining, so to their dismay, they've noticed that their turkey fletchings (standard in the western US states) have flattened and shrunk. It looks like there is barely any fletching at all. Fear not, the arrow will still fly. It'll just make aiming a bit harder, but not terribly worse. Those fletchings are just stabilizers.

Your OC goes home. When they take off their shooting glove/tab, they notice their fingers are yellow. Oh no! Don't worry, your OC is not sick, the dye has just come off the leather in the rain. It'll wash off, but it'll probably happen every time the leather gets wet for the next few months unless your OC makes a new glove/tab that isn't dyed.

LEFTIE VS RIGHTIE

It is extremely uncommon to find a left-handed archer. This is because even if someone’s right-handed doing their day-to-day things, it doesn’t mean they’re going to be right-handed for archery.

In archery, whether you shoot left or right handed is determined by your eye dominance. Most people are right-eyed dominant, so much so it’s very hard for a left-eye dominant archer (such as myself) to find new bows. And I mean really hard. Go anywhere and there’s a severe shortage of left-dominant archery gear simply because it’s that rare (hah I’m special- jk).

BOWS

There are manufactured bows (lame), and there are good bows. Yes, there’s a huge difference.

I’m not sure of the technical terms, but here’s my experience.

Manufactured bows, i.e., the cheap bows you find at a renaissance fair, are typically made from a type of plastic. Good traditional bows, from almost any country, are custom-made from wood that the bowyer (bow-maker) has shaped, treated, and glued.

Bows are a lot like musical instruments. Essentially, manufactured bows (or guitars, violins, etc.) are poor quality because they’re made of cheap materials which make the shooting quality less than superb (more on that later), and because they aren’t given the attention they need, which makes them of lesser quality because they’re just ... eh. Special treatment makes for a better bow.

Like musical instruments, there are a lot of different types. Most websites say there are only four (recurve, longbow, compound, and crossbow), but that’s not quite true. These acknowledge the four general shapes of a bow, but not the subtypes. For example, Mongolian bows are recurves, but tend to be shorter than Western recurves because Mongolian recurves are meant to be shot on horseback.

SHOOTING QUALITY

So, what is it like shooting a good bow?

Again, I’m speaking from experience with recurves, longbows, and reflexes.

A good bow has good speed. It moves the arrow faster than slower. This is a relative scale because recurves shoot arrows faster than longbows, and reflex/deflex tend to shoot faster than longbows but slower than recurves.

WEIGHT

Is it possible for people to have pulled 100 pounds of weight in a bow back in the olden days, or are people just confused?

Yes, it’s possible.

My dad, who used to do archery once or twice a week, had a 100 pound bow that he shot fairly regularly. That was before his shoulder injuries and, y’know, age.

Also note that he’s practically a Viking.

I pulled 50 pounds at 28 inches when I was doing it regularly, although now I probably have to go back to 45 pounds.

BASIC SHOOTING FORM

This is going to be heavily effected by your character’s culture, bow, and upbringing.

There’s the English, upright stance for shooting a longbow. The archer stands very straight, and their pull hand goes to anywhere between the lip and the ear.

There’s the forest stance, which is my own, and that’s slightly bent over to avoid string-slaps, finger to cheekbone. Also, I made up the forest stance, so don’t Google it.

Then there’s Walt Wilhem, who, due to physical disability, had to shoot from the hip and was still one of the best archers in the world. Watch the video of him and his brother:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np8u69YfSA8

THE ROBIN HOOD SHOT

This is actually very attainable. I’ve done it six times. My dad has done it about 30 times. I have a friend who did it about 25 times.

In order for this situation to realistically happen (if you’re writing something unrealistic, you really shouldn’t bother reading all of this), the character needs to prep a few things.

1. Years of experience. At least six, and that’s assuming your archer shoots at least seven hours a week, without missing an hour.

2. At six years the archer might get a few Robin Hood shots. Very likely, it’ll be at a shorter distance and the arrow they’re shooting will be cross-wise instead of straight down the shaft.

3. At ten years, it’s quite likely your Robin Hood has shot straight down the shaft a few times.

4. Your Robin Hood must seek to improve every week.

SOME QUICK TIPS

unless you’re Walt Wilhem, you always pull from your back, not your arm

you never fire an arrow

back quivers are quieter and more mobile than hip quivers (suck it hipsters)

it takes practice and long fingers, but it’s quite doable to hold both a bow and an arrow in one hand while shooting

there is a system for very fast nocking

beginners have no clue what this system is and so take several minutes to nock their arrow.

contrast, it takes a second for an experienced archer.

someone who doesn’t take long to aim is often called a snap shooter, and this isn’t exactly complimentary.

This ought to take you far in your journey of writing an archer. I’ve been sitting on this post for about a year now, but still need to add to it. PLEASE google the following in case I don’t get to sharing the info.

arrow breakage

bow breaking

materials for arrows

types of wood for bows

types of wood for arrows

arrow spine weight

bow tuning

bow shelfs

different forms

holding a bow

stringing a bow

bow at rest

temperatures + bows

fletching types

aerodynamics

quivers

moving around

how to find the goddamn arrows

#archery #writeblr #writing #archers #bow and arrow #wip #writing tip #writing advice #don't tell anyone it's been 2 years since I've shot my lovely bear bow #I need my bow again #I need to shoot

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peterxwade24 · 4 years ago

Text

Safety Found in Red Sleeves

Chapter 3

So, I know it’s been a long time waiting for this chapter but it’s finally done! It is 3500+ words of Thana’s overprotective friends and Jason being an overprotective dad/brother.

Before I get into the chapter, I’m going to go over a few words that might trip you up. All of the translations are courtesy of Google Translate so if I’m using a word wrong feel free to correct it.

Baba is Papa. Aleuma is Auntie. Kutlat Saghira is Little Nugget.

Thana stood in front of the class, carefully going over her note cards for her presentation.

Mlle. Bustier smiled at the class before clapping. “Okay, everyone. Let’s settle down and give Ms. Dupain-Cheng our full attention.”

Lila, ever the attention seeker, allowed crocodile tears to well up in her eyes. “Mlle. Bustier. She’s going to copy my presentation. It’s not fair.”

Thana glanced up at the other girl, her blue-grey eyes cold. “Well, Lila. If you’d paid attention, you would know that M. Dupain and Mme. Cheng are my adoptive parents. I’m not doing my presentation on Italy. I’m doing my presentation on Gotham City, New Jersey, USA.” She nodded towards Mlle. Bustier and waited for her to put the slides up on the board before turning to look at the class. “Gotham City, New Jersey, USA is called the ‘most crime-ridden city’ by the locals. The GCPD, or Gotham City Police Department, is exactly what it sounds like. The police department of Gotham City. Most locals, however, do not respect the officers of the GCPD because of the vigilantes that roam the streets. The main vigilante is Batman, he’s also the oldest, he dresses in all black with a cowl on his head that has bat ear like protrusions on the top. After him is Nightwing. Nightwing is very flexible and most Gothamites, people from Gotham, speculate that he is in fact the first Robin. He dresses in a suit of black with a blue bird across his chest. Red Robin, who is widely speculated to be the third Robin, works alongside the first two but also alongside Spoiler. He dresses in a red and black suit with a yellow robin head in the center of his chest atop a pair of crossed bandoliers. Spoiler, who most believe was both the fourth Robin and the second Batgirl, dresses in a suit that is primarily purple with black on her chest. Signal, a member of the team, dresses in a yellow and black suit with a white bat on his chest. It is believed he may be a meta, which is shorthand for metahuman which is what they call people with powers. There is also Black Bat, who most believe was the third Batgirl, who wears a mostly black suit with a yellow bat on her chest and yellow detailing on her arms and around her ribs. Black Bat’s suit covers most of her face from her nose to her chin. Most Gothamites believe that the first Batgirl is working hand in hand with the rest of the team behind the scenes after an attack by the Joker left her paralyzed from the waist down.”

The class looked on in amazement at the high quality photos that went along with each hero, but also in fear as Thana gave a thorough rundown of all the heroes and villains, called Rogues, before Thana’s face split into a smile.

“-The Sirens, a group of three antihero turned Rogues who don’t behave the same way that most of the other Rogues do. They have been seen helping Batman, when it fits them. The Sirens refers to Catwoman, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. Catwoman wears a black leather catsuit, which is self explanatory in her name. Poison Ivy wears varying shades of green and plant life while Harley Quinn, who was once affiliated with the Joker, most commonly wears a light pink crop top under a pair of gold overalls. The Riddler and Scarecrow, two Rogues who are relatively harmless since they partnered up, are rather distinctive. The Riddler, who wears a green three piece suit with matching hat and a purple tie and domino mask, leaves riddles and clues. Scarecrow, who wears a grey three piece suit with a canvas sack over his head, injects or sprays people with what he calls Fear Toxin but recently he has cut back on the injections and only soaks the paper The Riddler’s riddles are written on in his fear toxin. The Penguin wears a black three piece suit with a white dress shirt and is most commonly accompanied by twin girls who are most commonly seen wearing black wigs, green dresses and Kabuki masks. The Great Rodolfo, whom most speculate is related to the Joker, wears a cream or tan suit jacket, plaid pants, a matching plaid vest and a different patterned plaid necktie. Lastly, there’s Red Hood,” Thana’s hands fisted at her sides and pressed her lips into a thin line, who has recently been spotted fighting alongside various members of Batman’s team. Most Gothamites believe him to be the second Robin returned from the dead. Red Hood wears a red helmet, a dark brown leather jacket, black pants with black boots and a black utility belt, a black shirt with a red bat on his chest, and a red long sleeved shirt under his black shirt.”

---

Thana wrapped her arms around Kim’s waist and let out a shuddery breath. “My brother is Red Hood and he wants me to know it’s him.”

Chloé frowned but nodded. “We’ll help you see him again. However, we need to set up people here to fight the Akumas and someone to get, at least, Adrien to purify the butterfly.”

Alix smiled and turned towards Chloé. “I have some friends in Mme. Mendelieve’s class who can assist us while we’re gone.”

Adrien nodded and smiled. “You mean Bellamy, Brielle, Marc, and Alicia?”

Alix nodded. “Alicia is very sneaky and would be pretty good at using the Mouse Miraculous. Marc is very trustworthy and may or may not already be planning a storyline involving a hero who’s based on them. They would be a good temporary Horse Miraculous user. Bellamy is the Mom friend of their friend group and kind of reminds me of the dragons from mythology who hoard things, so I was thinking about him for the Dragon Miraculous. And Brielle is awkwardly good at keeping people organized, the only person better is Vivienne, so she could probably wield the Bee Miraculous.”

Adrien grinned goofily and slung an arm around Alix’s shoulders. “Those are great suggestions and unless anyone else has anyone better I think we’ll go with them.” Adrien, as the de facto leader of the team, looked to Thana for his longtime partner’s opinion.

Thana nodded from where she was hiding amidst Kim’s red sleeves. “Bellamy was nice to me when I arrived and Alicia always shadows her friends.”

Nino glanced at Chloé before tapping his headphones. He knew she would know what he meant. Nino glanced at their friend, could see how out of it she was becoming, and locked eyes with Chloé.

Chloé, always okay with coming off as argumentative and brash, looked at her oldest friend with a smile before falling back into her usual bratty persona. “Not to say this hasn’t been fun but, this hasn’t been fun. Kim, Nino and I are going to take Fragolina back to mine. Thanks for having us and thank your dad and Jalil for not interrupting us for me Alix. Kim. Nino.”

Kim stood up slowly, making sure to not disturb Thana as he did so. He shed his red hoodie and draped it around Thana’s shoulders before pulling Nino to his feet. Nino, who took his headphones off and placed them atop Thana’s head before selecting one of his playlists and stuffing his phone into one of Kim’s pockets.

The boys guided Thana out of the room, while Chloé smiled at the two other members of their group. “Fragolina’s going through some things at the moment, because she just realized her brother isn’t as dead as she thought he was and wants her to know that he’s looking for her.”

Adrien pursed his lips before glancing at Alix. “I didn’t know she had a brother, did you?”

Alix shrugged. “She didn’t really talk to many of us when she got here.”

---

Thana settled against the pillows on Chloé’s bed with Kim’s hoodie looking as though it was swallowing her whole and the hood pulled up over her head and covering Nino’s headphones with the lyrics to The Neighbourhood’s “R.I.P.2 My Youth” transitioning to Fall Out Boy’s “Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea” sounding in her ears. Nino’s phone was no longer in Kim’s pocket but plugged in while Chloé was packing clothes for their trip to the States.

Nino and Kim were trading practice blows in an area far away from Chloé’s closet. Or they were before Nino began flipping away from all of Kim’s attacks.

Chloé glanced at the boys before shaking her head and turning to their resident Gothamite. Chloé let a smile cross her face before turning to the four Kwamis, who were all relaxing in a large dollhouse, and raising a brow. “What are you four doing?”

Plagg and Trixx wore matching grins while Stompp simply crossed their arms over their chest and Sass began humming a tune. “Relaxing, what does it look like we’re doing?” Plagg’s face broke out in a larger grin before he relaxed into Trixx’s side.

Chloé simply shook her head at the four Kwamis. “Why don’t you four go relax with Fragolina?”

-*-*-*

Jason smiled as he picked up his Little Nugget and settled him on his hip. “Hey Little Nugget. Did you sleep well?”

Damian nodded before burying his face in Jason’s shoulder. “Who are they?”

Jason adjusted his hold on Damian to allow for Damian to see the two girls. “You remember Lady Shiva, don’t you?” He waited for Damian to nod before he continued. “The girl with the dark hair is Lady Shiva’s daughter, Cassandra. The blonde haired girl is Stephanie Brown. Do you remember when Bruce proclaimed that he wouldn’t have his children hanging out with the children of bad people?” Damian pursed his lips in thought, something he picked up from Jason, before nodding again. “Lady Shiva is a bad guy, as is Stephanie’s father. But, by Bruce’s standards so are Talia and Ra’s.”

Cassandra bowed, low to the floor, in Damian’s presence. Cassandra would never forget her training, and all must bow before the Heir of the Demon’s Head.

Stephanie gave a two finger salute with a smile. “Sup?”

Dick and Tim emerged from the bedroom they crashed in the night before. “Jason? Does this place have coffee?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Am I going to have a Tamaranean princess and a half-Tamaranean tyke breaking into the apartment you’re helping pay for?”

Dick’s eyes widened before he dove for the couch, where he left his phone the night before. He let out a victorious shout when he found his phone still had battery life left. He tapped out a text to Kory before turning back to his brothers. “No.”

---

Jason kept watching for danger out of the corners of his eyes, even though it was noon and he was in a supermarket, he couldn’t take any chance now that he had his Little Nugget and two sisters to watch out for. He saw a familiar man with short red hair leading a man with long brown hair, a familiar red haired woman and her companion, a familiar blonde haired woman, turn down aisles further down. “Stephanie Jeanelle Brown. Put down the toaster waffles. Take Cassandra and go find the boxed waffle mix, and while you’re there grab some pancake mix and syrup. Dick, Tim, go find some fruits that will keep for more than a week.”

The four teens nodded before going off to do what was asked of them. Damian, however, pouted from beside Jason. “Why do they get to go get things while I’m stuck with you?”

“Because, Little Nugget, I’m not afraid someone will steal them and make me reconsider how I feel about murder now that it’s not just me.” Jason smiled and ruffled Damian’s hair, which had grown out since Jason had first taken him. “I just want to keep you within eyesight because there are unsavoury characters who live in Gotham and darken the streets. I know technically I’m your brother but I feel like you are my child and I will do everything in my power to protect you, like I couldn’t protect your aunt my sister.”

Damian glanced up at Jason, a look of confusion on his face. “But I thought there were only three girls in the family in the right age range.”

Jason’s face melted into a faraway look and tightly pursed lips. “She was four when I met her, this tiny little slip of a child covered in bruises with dark red hair and blue grey eyes. I was following her, like most street kids would have, when she got the drop on me and then pinned me into the shadows beside a dumpster because her father was walking towards the alley we were in. I became Robin when I was twelve and she was nine, and then CPS and GCPD dragged her from one of our nests and took her away from here. I just found out about that at the press conference.” Jason’s blue green eyes kept sweeping the aisles looking for anyone who could pose a threat to his family. He saw, instead, Selina Kyle deciding between two different laundry detergents in one aisle and Oswald Cobblepot, accompanied by Pere and Gale, deciding between two different kinds of cereal.

Damian took in the information Jason gave him, knowing that Jason would tell him anything he asked even if it was painful to think about. “Who’s her father?”

“Jervis Tetch, aka Mad Hatter.” Jason’s voice was filled with so much venom he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “He’s a very bad man and if you ever hear anything about him, you run away. The Iceberg Lounge will provide you sanctuary if you can’t make it back to the apartment.”

Damian nodded as he allowed himself to be caged in by Jason’s arms so he was between Jason and the shopping cart.

Stephanie and Cass returned triumphantly with waffle mix, pancake mix and syrup. Followed by Dick and Tim a few minutes later.

Dick turned to Jason with a wry grin. “Is there a real reason we’re shopping at this store at this time of day? Or did you just want to surround yourself with other people who love your Pixie?”

Jason glanced up and made eye contact with Ed Nygma. Jason waved with a small smile on his face before Ed grabbed John’s arm and dragged him to the six siblings.

“Big Todd.” Ed called in lieu of greeting.

John nodded with a smile.

“Are you ever going to give that up?” Jason shook his head fondly. “Ed, John. This is Damian, my Little Nugget. Little Nugget, these are your aunt’s Uncles Ed and John.”

Ed nodded. “Have you tried to get in contact with her?”

John pressed a kiss to Ed’s cheek before looking at their present company. “Now might not be the best place to converse about this topic Love.”

Ed nodded before he let John drag him away. “We must converse again.”

---

Jason smiled as he tucked Damian into bed, before closing the bedroom door. He slumped back into the kitchen and with an exhausted sigh he set about finishing the dishes from the day’s meals. He paused to think about what Ed had said in the store. Would she even want to hear from him? Would she be receptive to talking to him or getting in contact with him?

Tim walked into the kitchen, intending to get a glass of water then go back to bed, when he stumbled upon Jason lost in thought. “Jason?” Tim stood next to Jason and gently pried a plate out of Jason’s hand. “Jason? Can you hear me?”

Jason shook himself out of his stupor and turned to the smaller boy. “Replacement? What are you doing up at this hour?”

Tim shrugged nonchalantly. “I was going to get a glass of water.”

Jason rolled his eyes and grabbed a glass out for Tim. “Sure.” Jason leaned against the counter and watched as Tim filled the glass with water.

Tim smiled at his older brother. “Were you thinking about what Nygma said?”

Jason ruffled Tim’s hair with a half smile on his face. “She was my only family for many years.” Jason turned back to the sink still full of dishes with a chuckle. “Go back to bed Replacement.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.”

Jason finished the dishes before dragging his still damp hands through his hair. He let out a tired sigh before turning around, to find discarded clothing covering his couch. He picked up a laundry basket and tossed all of the clothing into the basket. He glanced around the living room and nodded, satisfied with how clean it was. “We’ll have to clean up the apartment tomorrow, as long as Wayne doesn’t call us in.” Jason muttered as he put the laundry basket down on the counter and walked into his bedroom and curled around Damian.

---

Jason, with Damian settled on his left hip, stared at Bruce Wayne who was standing at the door to the apartment building. He raised a single eyebrow as he turned to have his right side facing Bruce. “Can I help you Mr. Wayne?”

“We need to talk.”

Jason snorted. “Then you can do it while walking. We’re meeting someone soon and we’re walking.”

Tim, Steph and Cass brushed past the trio. “Bye Jace! We’re gonna go hang with Kon, Cassie and Bart for a few hours!”

“Text when you get there and when you’re leaving! If we’re not home before you call to let me know you made it home safe!”

“Bye Jason!” Steph called while Cass waved.

Jason turned back to Bruce and raised his eyebrows. “Walk and talk Wayne.” Jason hitched Damian further up on his hip and started to push past Bruce, when Dick beat him to it.

“Call me if you need something or if one of the others needs something. I’ve gotta go home to Kor’i and Mar’i.”

“See you later Dickiebird.”

“See you Jaybird, see you Chick.”

Damian simply waved at Dick and rested his head on Jason’s shoulder. “Bye-bye.”

Jason watched Dick walk away with a smile on his face. He turned to Bruce and frowned.

“Jason-”

“Baba. Go.”

“In a minute Kutlat Saghira.” Jason pressed a kiss to Damian’s cheek. “Do you want to walk and talk or-”

“What did he just call you?” Bruce cut Jason off. “What did you just call him?”

“I called him Little Nugget, and last time I checked I didn’t have to tell you anything.” Jason shook his head and pushed past Bruce. “Are you ready to meet some friends Little Nugget?”

Damian nodded and smiled.

---

Jason pushed open the door to the Iceberg Lounge and smiled as the chilled air cooled the sweat on the back of his neck. “This is where we’re meeting some friends of your Aleuma.”

Damian smiled and patted Jason’s chest, his nonverbal way of saying he wants down.

“Don’t run off, stick close. Not everyone in here is friends with your Aleuma.”

Damian nodded before the two men from the supermarket approached them.

“Jason.” the man with brown hair smiled as he extended his hand to Jason.

“Mr. Crane. Have you been keeping your nose out of trouble?”

John laughed and nodded. “Of course, Ed keeps me in line.”

Ed laughed and shook his head. “Someone has to.”

The red haired woman and her blonde haired companion strolled into the area with matching smiles on their faces.

“Sundew.” The red haired woman called.

“Little bird.” Her blonde companion chirped.

Jason waved. “Damian, the red haired lady is Doctor Pamela Isley and her lovely companion is Doctor Harleen Quinzel. Pam, Harley, this is Damian al Ghul-Wayne. However, he’s more my son than Wayne’s at this point.”

Pam and Harley waved at Damian before offering him smiles.

“Oswald!” Jason called to a portly man across the lounge.

The man, followed by two women dressed in green long sleeved dresses and Kabuki masks, walked over to Jason with a smile on his face. “Todd. It’s good to see you.”

“You too old man.” Jason bowed to the two women. “Pere. Gale.”

The women bowed back.

“Damian, this is Oswald Cobblepot, your Aleuma liked him for some reason and he gave us shelter on more than a few nights.”

Oswald Cobblepot held out a hand to Damian with a smile on his face. “Hello there Damian.”

“Hello.” Damian smiled and stood taller. “Baba. I’m taller.”

Jason snorted. “I see that Little Nugget.” Jason glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door move.

“Hey, Ozzy? You heard from-” Jerome stopped talking before his face split in a smile. “Hoodie! You’re back!”

“Hey Rome.” Jason waved. “Come meet Damian.”

Damian tilted his head in a confused puppy manner before the red haired man appeared from behind Jason. “Is he?”

Jerome extended a hand to Damian with a more mild grin on his face. “Hi. I’m Jerome Valeska, although most of these people know me better as The Great Rodolfo. You must be Damian Todd.”

Damian preened for a moment before coming back to the moment. “Technically, Baba says my name’s still Damian al Ghul-Wayne but I like Damian Todd.”

Taglist

@southamericangothamite @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss @mochegato @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @2confused-2doanything @wannajointhecrabcult @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmymind @moonlightstar64 @justafanwarrior @mialuvscats @pheony1882 @pepelachanel @moongoddesskiana @abrx2002 @ladybug-182 @greatcatblaze @thatonecroc @vixen-uchiha @superbwhispersconnoisseur @lilkymilky

After this, there will be a short titled “Pixie?!” featuring Jason fresh from the grave and the appearance of Talia al Ghul using his panicked state against him.

#maribat #ml crossover #mlb crossover #ml x dc #mlb x dc #gothamite!Marinette #platonic sibling jasonette #Safety Found in Red Sleeves #sfirs

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oh-mother-of-darkness · 5 years ago

Text

It was cold in Gotham, cold enough for Dick to wear his heavy jacket, his new boots, and his good scarf while he stood outside Wayne Tower. Behind the podium, Bruce began his speech.

“Hello,” he said, flashing a grin. “I’m Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and I won’t keep you long today— I promise.”

That got an appreciative laugh from the crowd gathered around them. Dick squeezed past a few people and into the front of the circle, where he could see. At eight years old, he stood several heads below the adults.

“It’s a new year tomorrow,” Bruce continued, “and here at the Tower we’re celebrating our new programs. They’re all fine initiatives, and I’m not going to talk about them. As a matter of fact, I’m not going to talk about anything.”

The crowd murmured softly. Bruce grinned again.

“I’m supposed to give a speech, or so they told me. I thought for a long time about what I was going to say, and I just couldn’t figure it out, until I talked to Dick Grayson, my foster son. That’s him over there.”

The cameras that had been focused on the stage turned with Bruce’s gesture, towards Dick in his position at the front of the circle. He gave them a little wave.

“I asked Dick what I should do,” said Bruce, “and he told me this: just shut up.”

The crowd laughed again. Dick took a bow.

“Shut up,” Bruce repeated, “and he’s right. I have a loud voice, in person and in the world. I’m a billionaire, a CEO, a rich kid from Gotham that’s never wanted a thing in his life. I’m not the one who should be talking. I do enough of that.”

Bruce’s grin turned into a grave expression. He looked out over the cityscape.

“I should listen. I should shut up and listen, and I urge all of you that are like me to do the same. We need to listen to the voices that matter: the experienced, the knowledgable, the ones who can tell us their own stories. We need to let them speak.”

Bruce shrugged. “That’s all I have to say before I get off this stage and let some other people talk. I’d like to thank Dick for his wisdom, because he is very wise. That’s one of the many reasons I love him.”

Wait.

What?

Dick froze, but only for a second. He didn’t have time to process with cameras focussed on his face; he couldn’t afford to let his smile drop and show the crowd the truth— that Dick had never heard those words before.

I love him?

What? Why would Bruce say that?

Who did he think he was?

Dick set a small smile firmly on his face and held it there as Bruce’s voice buzzed in front of him— buzzed because Dick couldn’t understand what Bruce was saying anymore. He didn’t know anything beyond the heartbeat thumping in his ears.

I love him? I love him?

Dick startled back into reality as the crowd broke into applause. On stage, Bruce gave a final grin and made his way down the steps. He slipped into the front row, alongside Dick, while the next speaker bounded up to the microphone.

The cameras panned away from Dick, finally. He let the smile slide from his face.

Bruce noticed. He glanced down at Dick, curious, and raised an eyebrow.

In return, Dick gave Bruce the flattest look he could muster, then spent the rest of the program staring intently at the other speakers. Dick and Bruce took pictures afterwards. They mingled, Dick circling the square while Bruce watched with concerned eyes.

Dick stepped into a camera blind spot and glared at him.

Bruce stepped into another. He raised his eyebrows again, this time in a what-are-you-doing sort of expression.

Glare.

Question?

Glare.

Bruce’s eyes flicked up in exasperation. Dick jerked his head to the side, indicating the entrance to the Tower. He slipped inside as soon as the cameras weren’t looking.

Dick took the elevator up to Bruce’s office, watching the crowd beneath him get smaller through the glass as he went higher and higher. He turned down hallways decorated for the New Year— golden lights and silver streamers— and into the familiar room.

Bruce appeared seconds later, as quietly as he always did, like he had materialized in the office. He opened his mouth to speak.

Dick beat him to it.

“Hi,” Dick snapped. “What was that?”

“What was—?” Bruce raised his hands, apparently confused.

“That!” Dick put his own hands on his hips, drawing himself up to his full height. “What did you say about me?”

“I said you were… wise?”

“Not that part.”

Bruce’s face hardened. He stepped forward into what Dick recognized as a defensive stance.

“I said I loved you?”

“You said you loved me!” Dick turned away and paced down the center of the room. “Why did you say that?”

“I—”

“Why would you say that on a stage? Oh, I get it, I’m—” Dick spun around again and strode back down the tile, arms outstretched. “—I’m Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and I want you to like me! Look at this little boy. Isn’t he cute?”

“Dick.”

“I’m so glad I could help with your speech and your credibility and your— your reputation and—”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Why am I acting like this?” Dick’s mouth fell open in shock. This was Dick’s fault now? He was the one behaving irrationally? No. No, he was not.

“Yes!” Bruce stepped forward again, forcing Dick to take a step back. “All I said was I love—”

“All you did was play father in public!”

“Dick,” said Bruce. His voice went lower, scarier. “What are you talking about?”

Dick’s vision fuzzed out for a moment: silver static and a roaring in his ears. He felt his face go red in rage as he marched forward, jabbing a finger into Bruce’s chest.

“That! Is! Your! Batman! Voice!”

Bruce blinked, taken aback.

“You do not get,” Dick snapped, “to Batman at me, or yell at me, or say— say what you— Don’t say that!”

“Don’t say that I love you?”

“I said don’t say it.”

“Okay!” Bruce crossed his arms. “I won’t say it anymore. Are you happy?”

“No! Don’t say it, and don’t— don’t look at me like that or, or talk to me like you’re—”

“I don’t understand why you’re upset.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Dick glanced at the golden lights strung from the ceiling, back to Bruce, lights, Bruce again. How was Bruce not getting this? It was simple enough. How much detecting did it take?

“Dick,” Bruce began. Batman again.

“That!” Dick pointed wildly. “That right there! Oh it’s always ‘try harder, Dick, be better, Dick’ and ‘Robin, you’re making mistake after mistake,’ but then the second you need to look good in front of a crowd, it’s different.”

“This has nothing to do with—”

“Don’t say,” Dick ground out, “things that you don’t mean.”

They glared at each other.

“I didn’t,” said Bruce.

“Didn’t what?”

“Say… something I didn’t mean.”

“Oh.”

Dick let his hands fall back to his sides. He turned away from Bruce, looking out through the windows to the skyscrapers across the street. Those glittered with lights too. As Dick watched, snow started to fall, floating outside the glass on gusts of invisible wind. Single flakes thickened into a barrage of white that whipped through the Gotham air.

“Say it again, then,” Dick whispered. “You can— you can say it once.”

“I don’t—?”

“I said fine! You can say it once!”

“I…” Bruce’s voice sounded softer now, while Dick was turned away. “I love you?”

“Okay.”

“And if you don’t want me to say it anymore, then I… won’t.”

“Not now,” said Dick. “Just… not for now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay then.” Dick squeezed his eyes shut, opened them, held his breath, let it out.

“Does that…” Bruce trailed off, unsure. “Does that make it better?”

“No.”

“Do you… want a hug?”

“No.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Um.” Dick struggled for a moment, turned around, raised a hand, then put it back at his side. “I want…”

Bruce waited expectantly.

“I want a smoothie,” Dick decided.

“It’s cold?”

“I want a smoothie. And, and I want to watch the fireworks tonight, and I want Alfred to come with us.”

“Okay.”

“I want to, um, I want to go to school next week, and come back again, and…”

“And?”

“And I… want?”

Bruce nodded thoughtfully. “You want to stay?” he suggested.

“Yes,” said Dick. He found that he was crying, tears smearing everything around him into a blur of gold and silver, silver and gold. The first drop fell onto the leather of his new boots, and he brushed the rest away with the sleeve of his coat.

“Yes,” he repeated. “I want to stay.”

Happy New Year from Kenza and Amy! We’ll say it once: we love you very much.

art by @kurawastaken

#can't believe I forgot to tag Kenz wft @ me #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batfamily #fanfiction #mine #and kenza's!!!!#isn't it beautiful #happy new year! welcome to a new decade #a better one? we'll make it happen

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lightsupinthenorth · 4 years ago

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Harringrove teachers AU part 1

I finally started writing the Harringrove teachers AU I keep talking about lmao.

Tag list: @twoprettyboys, @inkedplume, @marianaosborne, @liglitterbug, @hmg621

If anyone wants to be added to or taken off the tag list for the (hypothetical) future posts of this AU, let me know ;)

Billy was close to vibrating out of his skin with nerves, but as Max exited her bedroom and sat down in front of him at the kitchen table, he relaxed his face into his usual indifferent mask and pretended he didn’t have a care in the world.

“What’s up, shitbird?”

She only groaned in reply. She was still a bit mad at him for making them move from California to Indiana, but Billy hadn’t had much choice in the matter. Schools ready to hire someone like Billy as an English teacher weren’t that common. To look at the bright side, at least Neil was far away from them and wouldn’t cause any trouble. Max knew all that, hypothetically, but having to leave her friends had been tough on her.

“Slept well?”

“Fine…” She grumbled.

“Wow, aren’t you in a radiant mood on this fine morning.”

Max rolled her eyes.

He knew he should just stop needling her and leave her to sulk in peace until he had to get to his first teachers meeting to prepare the upcoming school year. However, focusing on her allowed him to not focus on himself, and that was exactly what he needed at that moment.

Max started staring at him, then, and a smile slowly spread across her face. Billy, who had been fidgeting unconsciously with his empty coffee cup, stopped moving all together, which only served to make him appear more suspicious.

“Are you nervous?” She asked, with a teasing glint in her eyes.

Of course, it took making fun of Billy to lighten her mood. Billy sighed. What had his life come to? He was being mocked by a fifteen-year-old wearing neon pink unicorn pajamas and sporting a rather severe case of bed head (that’s what she got for not asking him to braid her hair before bed).

“Pff, no.” He scoffed.

According to the way Max’s smile widened, it wasn’t a convincing answer. How could he have thought he’d be able to fool her?

Billy turned away from her to fetch the carton of orange juice from the fridge. A stray lock of hair fell in front of his eyes and he tucked it behind his ear. His day hadn’t even properly started that his bun was already falling apart.

“It’s going to be fine, you know that right?”

“Yeah. Thank you for these words of wisdom.”

Billy sounded sarcastic, but he was actually grateful that Max was trying to reassure him.

“Are you going to wear that, though?”

Billy instantly looked down at his outfit. He had put on a short-sleeved blue button-down, jeans with no hole in them, and shoes that were not sneakers. That was the best he could do with what he had in his closet.

“Yeah, why? What’s wrong with it?” He asked.

“Nothing, nothing. You look good.”

Max sounded like she was holding something back, and Billy wouldn’t have it.

“Come on, just tell me.”

“Okay fine… You sure about the short sleeves? People are gonna stare.”

She had a point. Billy had been planning on wearing long sleeves, as he had for his job interview, but it was a hot day. Scorching hot. Billy was already in danger of sweating gallons because of stress, he didn’t need the heat on top of that. Anyway, he wasn’t going to hide his tattoos all year. They might be a bit much for a first meeting, but well… at least he had taken off most of his piercings.

Billy shrugged.

“I can deal with that.”

He regretted his misplaced confidence as soon as he got out of his car and set foot on the concrete of the Hawkins High parking lot. Max had been right, people were going to stare. Usually, he liked having people stare at him, but not in the way his new coworkers were certainly going to. He wanted to have eyes on him because he looked good… not because he looked unprofessional.

He had a jacket in the trunk of his car, but if he arrived at the meeting clad in a thick black leather jacket when it was ninety-five degrees out, people would take him for a weirdo, which was maybe worse than them taking him for a fraud. Fraud it was, then.

He stumbled upon a young woman smoking outside the main building and tried to hide his uneasiness as she appraised him.

“Hi! Are you the new teacher? William, is it?” She asked him with a bright smile.

“Uh… yeah. Please, just call me Billy.”

She shook his extended hand.

“Heather, I teach PE”, she said as she stubbed her cigarette out, “come with me.”

Billy followed her, glad taht she had apparently taken him under her wing. Now he didn’t have to look for the teachers lounge. It was one less thing to worry over.

As they entered the room, Billy’s senses were assaulted by the smell of coffee and the jumble of ongoing conversations.

He’d barely known her for two minutes, but Heather was like a lifeline in this unfamiliar and overwhelming place. She pointed at someone who was reading a book in one of the chairs closest to the door.

“Here is my friend Robin.”

As they approached her, she got up to hug Heather and then shake Billy’s hand. She looked down at his arms and stared for a few seconds. Billy braced himself for a negative comment, but what he got instead was “nice tatts”.

“Thanks.”

He was going to ask her what subject she taught, but Heather talked first.

“Is Steve not there yet?”

“He is! Murray has just been talking his ears off ever since he got there.” Robin gestured toward the other side of the room.

“Ouch”, Heather winced, “conspiration theories again?”

“You know it”, she confirmed.

“Why haven’t you rescued the poor boy?”

Robin cackled.

“Felt like being a little mean.”

“Well, I’m gonna help him. Because, unlike you, I’m a good friend.” Heather said, before leaving in the direction Robin had indicated.

“So, William –“

“Billy.”

“Sorry, Billy. Is it your first year of teaching?”

“Yeah…”

“Are you nervous?”

What was it with people asking him this question today?

Billy shrugged, hoping he would be able to deceive Robin’s assessing eyes. He had a reputation to uphold… well, to build and then to uphold.

“Not particularly.”

“Cool.” She said, frowning slightly.

She seemed to doubt him. She would have been right to, but Billy found it outrageous nonetheless. He could deal with Max seeing right through his bullshit. She was his sister. Robin, on the other hand, was only a coworker. One he had met less than five minutes ago, at that..This could not fly!

Thankfully, Heather got back to them before Robin could interrogate him any further. Billy looked behind her to greet the Steve guy they had mentioned, but he couldn’t even get a “hello” out. All the air was punched out of his lungs.

The man was so gorgeous that Billy got a little weak in the knees, even though he wasn’t easy to impress.

The guy was all prim and proper, which wasn’t usually Billy’s type. It shouldn’t have worked for him, but it did. Oh God, it did. The contrast between the guy’s preppy clothing style and his messy soft-looking hair did things to Billy.

There was a wide smile on Steve’s face, but it slowly faded into a straight line as he gave Billy a onceover. Great… he was a judgmental asshole. Just Billy’s luck. Of course, he couldn’t be that pretty and be nice too. That wouldn’t have been fair to the average person.

Billy could see Steve quickly hiding his discomfort behind a smile. He noticed how it was less bright and sincere than his earlier one, too.

“Hi… I’m Steve, nice to meet you.”

Billy considered ignoring Steve’s extended hand, but he didn’t want to get in trouble with any of his coworkers before the school year had even started, so he sucked it up. If Steve could pretend he didn’t hold Billy in contempt, Billy could pretend he didn’t think Steve was an asshole.

He’d just avoid the guy as much as he could. Teachers weren’t obligated to spend that much time together, anyway. It wouldn’t be that hard.

Would it?

#Harringrove #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #Max Mayfield #Heather Holloway #Robin Buckley #fanfiction #Teachers AU #should I continue this?#let me know #for real I don't know what I'm doing

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 5.1}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend… and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

There was a major difference in the way Robin approached this summer break in contrast to the last years. The dread that usually overcame her even before she stepped onto the train back to London was still very much present and accompanied by a deep sadness at the prospect of not being able to have coffee with Snape every night, but she didn’t feel quite as desperate about the length of the break. This year, she actually had something to look forward to.

It had come as a surprise on her last evening at school, when she had been talking to Snape about summer plans, that he had handed her a letter that had originally been addressed to him. At first Robin had been understandably confused why he’d given it to her, but after a moment of explanation, things had started to make sense. It was an invitation to a one-day conference in London, taking place two weeks into the holidays. According to him, it was an ‘insignificant’ event with a series of lectures and discussions about anything related to the overall subject of potion making. While the invitation was meant for Snape himself, he had made it rather clear that he had no interest in attending and thus wanted to give Robin the opportunity to listen to some of the lectures if she cared to go in his place. Obviously she’d been absolutely delighted by the possibility, and assured him that she would do her very best to lay low and make a good impression for once. He’d told her where to be on which day, then spoken a brief warning about some people he couldn’t stand but who likely would be attending, and at last they had changed the topic, talking about the book Robin had just finished that day.

On the train ride home the next day however, she had wondered if he really didn’t want to attend or if he merely wanted to give her the chance to go in his place, but seeing as she couldn’t answer that question, she had let it go after a while of pondering. But she did take pride in the fact that he obviously believed she would understand whatever would be talked about at this conference, and even more that he trusted her to not embarrass him in his absence. She would definitely try to learn as much as possible from this event, and be noticed as little as possible in return.

The two weeks until the anticipated day passed by slowly, but with something to look forward to, it wasn’t quite as dreadful as wishing and waiting for the end of the holidays already. Robin did actually end up telling her parents about the conference a few days before it would take place, and they seemed rather delighted about the fact that Robin was indulging in the same kind of academic endeavours they themselves thrived in so much. To be honest, Robin had merely told them because spending the entire day in London meant that she would be home very late if she took the train after the last lecture would be over, and she didn’t want them to worry. They however seemed fairly unbothered by the fact that their daughter would be out and about in the middle of the night, and Robin gave up on trying to get them to take interest in her person as much as they did in her 'career’. Thus they merely talked about proper behavior at an event like this, how to ask questions without being rude or make suggestions without sounding braggy, and Robin did in fact appreciate the advice for once. Who knew… maybe it applied to the wizarding world just as much as to the muggle world.

When the day finally arrived, Robin was nervous and delighted at once. Seeing as she would indeed have to stick to public transportation like the muggle she was pretending to be during the holidays, she opted for a more mundane choice of outfit too. Still, she wanted to make a good impression, and thus she chose to wear dressier clothes for once, which turned out more of a challenge than anticipated, due to an underwhelming amount of options. Eventually she ended up with a black, high waisted tube skirt that ended a little higher than a hand’s width above her knees, and an olive green blouse with long bishop sleeves which she tugged into the skirt. Paired with some dressy flats and her usual leather backpack, Robin deemed it fancy enough. Her mom also gave her approval, calling it 'appropriate enough’ for someone Robin’s age, and thus she was off to London even before it had properly started to dawn.

Finding the place where the conference would take place was actually easier than she had expected, especially if one considered that she had to rely on an ordinary, non-magical street map of London to find the correct building. This rule forbidding underage magic outside of Hogwarts was bullshit, in her eyes, but she also figured that not everyone was being as responsible with their magic as she was… so it maybe did make sense for some people. After finding the right building however, the next obstacle was being allowed in.

“Can I help you?” The first person she tried to simply walk past, once inside the entrance hall, already stepped into her path.

“I have an invitation for the conference.” Robin replied as self-assuredly as she could, portraying nothing but calmness on the outside while yet on the inside she felt rather overwhelmed by the whole thing. Too many people, too many strangers especially, and in addition to that a place she wasn’t familiar with and a situation nobody believed she belonged into. Great…

“May I see it, please?” At least the man was polite, even if a bit too condescending for Robin’s liking. Without protesting though, she grabbed the invitation card out of her backpack and held it under his nose with an indifferent expression.

“I apologise for the inconvenience, Miss. The conference room is on the third floor. Just follow the signs and you should find it with ease.” He said after but a brief glimpse at the paper, and stepped out of Robin’s way while pointing her to the staircase.

It really was beyond easy to find the correct room by following the signs, but before she even could set foot into it, she was held up yet again by a man sitting at a table in front of the room.

“Good morning.” Robin actually addressed him first, with a polite smile, as she came to stand in front of the table. Somehow she had rather hoped that she could just sneak into this like she had done in some lectures at university in the past years… but obviously that wasn’t the case.

“How can I help you, Missy?” The older man raised his eyebrows at her with a small smile, and Robin found herself conflicted by his disrespectful way of addressing her in contrast to his kind face.

“I am here for the conference.” She stated calmly though, and handed the invite to the man in front of her.

His eyebrows rose even higher as he read over the card, before he finally turned back to Robin with a surprised face. “What does a lass like you have to do with Severus Snape? You surely know that this is his invite, don’t you?”

“Of course I am aware of that.” She bit down the snarl and kept her tone polite and neutral like the adult she was trying to be here. “I’m his… friend. He couldn’t attend and therefore sent me in his place.” There was no need to tell him that Snape had called them an old bunch of idiots and hadn’t wanted to come here because it would bore him out of his mind, was there? No, certainly not.

“From what’s said about him, he doesn’t have a lot of friends I believe.” The man mused, but handed the paper back to Robin with a smile nonetheless. “Well, he still seems to have a decent taste in people if he sent you here today, huh? What’s your name? For the list of attendees, and the name tag.”

Robin almost would’ve snorted at the statement… Snape and good with people? Best joke she’d heard in weeks. But at least she wasn’t questioned any more than that. She would’ve hated to elaborate on her 'friendship’ with her professor. One sided as it was, especially…

“Robin Mitchell.” She answered with a small smile, and a moment later accepted the sticky tag he was holding out to her. Without questioning why it only read her last name, she stuck it onto her blouse a little below her collar bone, and then was granted entrance to the room at last.

If she’d had any hope to just not be noticed before, it definitely was gone by now. The room was crowded with wizards of all shapes and sizes, mostly of the older generations, and Robin spotted exactly two females other than herself. Age and gender… first things that drew quite a few eyes to her. But then there also was the small but very obvious fact that she was the only one not wearing robes. Hell, even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t have sat in the train for two hours looking like a kid dressed up for Halloween and not panic. Well… she could’ve changed once she got here. Too late for that idea now.

Many eyes followed her indeed as she walked across the room to sit down as far to the back as possible. At least there were many people scattered around the room, chatting and laughing currently; surely they would just forget that Robin was here at some point. Hopefully, if they didn’t ignore her, these people would actually treat her with some professionalism at least, even if she looked like she could be their grandchild. Well, at least she got why Snape had called them a bunch of old idiots now.

After her initial discomfort, the situation improved (fairly little at first) once the actual event began. Robin tried to somewhat keep up with the smalltalk the man next to her was trying to make, but he ended up spending more time staring at her mostly bare legs than listening to what she said in return, so she eventually just gave up on trying to converse in the first place. The lectures however were well worth the trouble, as Robin discovered, and she took plenty of notes about anything that seemed interested or useful to remember. In fact, she did understand most of what was said and even recognized a lot of it from her extensive readings. Events like this generally seemed to function more by knowledge than by experience, and Robin had theoretical knowledge in the plenty. Thus she actually had a pretty good time for the majority of the lectures, as it allowed her to completely ignore the fact that other people were present in the same room.

Only when they took a break at noon, she was approached by some people who probably only wanted to be kind and involve her in the conversation, which however served to make Robin feel rather nervous in the beginning. They asked her about her young age, of course, and she tried to politely convince them that intelligence wasn’t a matter of age, and neither was passion for a subject. At least the lunch break was spent with conversation this way, rather than awkward silence, and Robin actually found herself enjoying the polite and professional conversations they engaged in soon. Throughout the talking she got involved in however, she tried to share as little information about herself and her knowledge about potions as possible, for she feared that she would only embarrass herself anyway if she said something wrong. She was here to listen, not to talk.

That however changed drastically in the afternoon. After one particularly long lecture about medical potions and strategies of use, the following discussion was a furnace of opinions and arguments. Robin merely listened to the many arguments and counterarguments in silence, just as she’d been doing for the past few hours, and kept her own thoughts to herself. That worked rather well for her, right until the man who had held the lecture in the first place, Kenneth Crowe, said something undeniably wrong and everybody in the room seemed to agree with him. Instantly the desire to at least ask about it jumped to the very front of Robin’s mind, but she bit the insides of her cheeks to stay quiet. It wasn’t her place to say anything at all, and definitely not to correct a well renowned professional in the field. But it was such an obvious mistake… such a stupid but important little detail. And leaving it in the wrong might actually result in very much real consequences for people, especially in the medical field.

Crowe had introduced a new kind of healing potion in his lecture, a revolutionary invention of his that might cure yet untreatable curses… and Robin believed to know that it wouldn’t work. At least not in the way he was suggesting. Bloody hell, she just wanted to tell them, but she was also desperately scared to say something stupid. It wasn’t her place to speak up, it wasn’t her goddamn place to doubt these people!!! But the knowledge that she might be right sufficed to torture her mind more with every second she didn’t at least voice the doubt. At last Robin’s mind won over her churning stomach and racing heart. She raised her hand, was called on almost immediately, and after one deep and shaky breath, she started explaining to a room full of professionals why they were wrong about the subject.

“I… would like to ask a question.” She started, hoping that her criticism wouldn’t come off as such if she phrased it this way. “You, uh… You stated that the petals of the Varilion flower are a key ingredient, and so is the essence of Canticor, yes?”

“Yes. And?” Crowe looked down at Robin from his pedestal with a humored, but undeniably deriding smile. He probably thought that she didn’t even understand a word of what they were currently dealing with… oh, how wrong he was. A bit of the reluctance to possibly insult this man fell off Robin’s mind at the stupid look on his face alone, and she decided to continue more directly.

“I just wanted to be sure I didn’t misunderstand you.” She replied with a polite little smile that was born out of her newly arising wish to wipe his own smile off his stupid face. “Because as far as I’m aware, Varilion –as a plant in the family of nocturnal vinca breeds– would very likely cancel out the effects of the Canticor which are needed here. Without the Canticor however, the entire product would likely be unstable and thus lacking the functionality you have described.”

“That’s ridiculous, I tested the potion myself and it was perfectly stable. You shouldn’t make assumptions like that without prior knowledge of the subject, child. This potion will be perfectly stable.” He almost snapped back, and a few people frowned at his admittedly harsh reply. Robin didn’t let it impress her at all; she was just getting started. Somehow, now that the dam was broken, she really didn’t mind speaking up all that much anymore.

“Well, it is stable if the potion is made in a common testing quantity as opposed to an average production size. If one would try to make a sufficient amount of it in order to be able to give it to a human being with the desired healing result, one would run into severe problems, seeing as the Varilion and the Canticor start canceling each other out at an amount that is way smaller than what would be needed indeed. Thus it is not possible to use this formula to even make enough of the potion for one single person. Which, in return, renders the potion quite useless.” People stared at Robin with all kinds of mixed and shocked expressions as she spoke, some whispering and turning pages, but she used the opportunity of having the word already to lean just a bit further out of what she had thought to be her place. “However, seeing as the core problem is merely the radically dominating nature of the vinca breed in the Varilion, I would suggest replacing it with Plangentine. As another nocturnal flower with almost the same properties, as far as I’m aware, it might make a functional replacement even in larger quantities. But that, of course, is only my humble opinion. Thank you.”

With that she shut her mouth, leaned back in her chair, and observed how about thirty jaws dropped. Geez, it was hard not to smirk. This really shouldn’t be so much fun… What she had done wasn’t exactly considered polite, even if she had phrased it politely. Her parents would be disappointed. Snape however would likely be proud. Robin decided to focus on the latter.

For the long moment that followed, nobody said anything at all, and people merely seemed to think about what Robin had suggested. When the discussion was finally continued however, every single person who contributed something spoke in favor of Robin’s opinion or at least seemed to accept it as correct. Thank goodness… she would’ve hated to feel so smug and then be proven wrong. Thus, seeing as she had done her part in voicing her doubt and wiping the stupid smile off the man’s face, Robin went back to simply listening to what was said, and meanwhile noted down the discussed healing potion in her journal, with her own suggested change. She’d have to ask Snape about it when she went back to school. Maybe they could even test it, for fun.

The rest of the afternoon flew by just as the morning had, but with significantly more glances at Robin. One time she was even directly asked for her opinion on something, which freaked her out quite a bit on the inside at least, but she still was able to give a reply everyone seemed to be accepting as a contribution as valuable as any other person’s. Maybe she had finally gotten herself out of the grandchild box in their minds after all.

After the last lecture was over, fairly late in the evening, the entire group of attendees was asked to come to the podium to pose for a photograph. At first, Robin had respectfully stepped aside to let the real attendees take the stage, but upon multiple people insisting that she had played an important role in this meeting, she had found herself among the group as well. Right in the front. Definitely not as subtle as she’d planned to be today, but seeing as she was a good head shorter than almost everyone else, it did actually make sense to put her up front. Once all pictures were taken, Robin planned to head home, but she was quickly (and more or less against her will) pulled into a discussion about the very same healing potion once more. Now, in a smaller group of far less hostile people, she felt more comfortable with repeating her suggestion and explaining how she had gotten to the realization in the first place. Many people asked for her name, her age, her profession… and some went even further and asked for her opinion on all kinds of topics related to potions and even herbology. Robin did her best to answer with knowledge and educated guesses, but seeing as she was actually taken seriously by the people who bothered to talk to her in the first place, she also didn’t hesitate to say when she didn’t know about something. In those latter cases, she asked the person she was speaking to for suggestions on books or articles on the topic, so that she could one day maybe answer their question on a more profound basis. Finally, some time after eleven at night, she made for the train back to Oxford with a long list of things to read up on, and an even longer one of people she had left an impression with.

… … …

The days after the conference were as dreadful as the summer usually was, and any opportunity to make something out of the free time stayed ridiculously absent. Thus Robin was bored out of her mind even more quickly than usual, therefore spent more time reading than likely was good for her, and generally found herself desperately wishing to be able to return to school already. Every bit the usual summer.

After two weeks of this mind numbing madness however, Robin’s days became a little more bearable with an unexpected turn of events. She was sitting at breakfast, her parents about to leave for the day, when her mom came back into the kitchen to hand Robin a letter, saying it looked like her friends from school had finally thought of her after all. Robin didn’t have the heart nor the time to tell her that she didn’t even have friends, so she just took the letter out of her mom’s hand with a quiet thank you, shrugged at the question who it was from and merely tossed it onto a stack of books in feigned indifference. Then she wished her mom and dad a nice day at work, and continued to sip on her black coffee.

However, the very second the front door fell shut and the house silent in return, Robin had the letter in her hands again and flipped it over to see her name written on the envelope in the familiar spidery cursive she’d missed seeing in the past few weeks. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know if she should be scared or excited about this letter. Both, probably. Without wasting another second, she opened the envelope with a kitchen knife and fiddled a folded piece of parchment out of it. Yup, definitely scared and excited at once. But if she was in trouble, it surely would’ve been an official school letter, right? Not just an average envelope with nothing but her name on it… bloody hell, her heartbeat was louder than the silence around her. With a deep breath, she unfolded the letter at last.

Miss Mitchell.

You might find yourself wondering what led me to write to you in between terms, and you will find the main answer to that in the envelope with this letter.

Robin stopped reading at that point and took another look into the envelope she had carelessly dropped onto the counter. There was another piece of paper in it, folded in half as well, but Robin could already tell by the look of it that it was a newspaper cutout. Once she unfolded it, she found herself both smiling and feeling too warm in the face at once. It was the photograph that had been taken at the conference, with a short article beneath it. It was nothing special, just a little text about how many people had attended and which topics had been discussed, and thus Robin found herself looking at the moving photograph for a longer moment instead. Really, she’d known that she had somewhat stood out from the crowd, but the picture made it undeniably evident. About fifty much older people in thick and flowing robes and with the most serious faces, and Robin right in the middle with her short skirt, victorian style blouse and a small smile. Oh dear… she almost dreaded going back to Snape’s letter. He surely would be complaining about her choice of clothes, but she honestly hadn’t known better. Her attire would’ve been perfectly ordinary in the muggle world. Oh well… at least the photograph was a lovely reminder of the admittedly amazing day she’d had at the conference. Careful not to crease the picture any more than the folds it already had, she put it into her most recent journal and then finally went back to the letter.

Miss Mitchell.

You might find yourself wondering what led me to write to you in between terms, and you will find the answer to that in the envelope together with this letter. The picture was published in the Daily Prophet the day after the conference. This cutout was sent to me a few days later, by an acquaintance who you should have met at the event, Patrick Isaac. I assume you are not keeping up with the news, not with the Prophet at least, which is why I decided to forward the picture to you directly. Perhaps you would like to keep the cutout, you certainly have more use for it than I do.

Furthermore it might interest you to know that Mister Isaac, together with the picture, sent me a fairly long letter to gush over a certain young witch by the name of Robin Mitchell who attended the conference with him and who obviously was rumored to be a friend of mine. I will spare you the details of his disconcertingly detailed elaborations, but overall it appears that you have earned yourself quite a few admirers among the attendees, if the other six letters that I have received in your praise are any indicator of that. It seems that you have surprised me yet again, which indeed does not surprise me at all.

However I still would like to know more about the 'remarkable incident’ involving a certain new potion that was discussed. Multiple people reference it in the context of your astonishing intellect, yet without ever elaborating on the issue. What did you do this time that rendered competent professionals quite so speechless? I expect your timely reply, seeing as you do not have further plans for the summer anyway.

Snape

Robin frowned at the last few lines, then sighed to herself and dropped the letter on the counter to make another cup of coffee first. Well, at least writing a letter would give her something to do. And writing a letter to Snape would give her something enjoyable to do indeed. A smile spread on her lips as she set the kettle on the stove. He could’ve waited until after the holidays to give her the clipping, and even to ask her about the conference, but he had sent a letter instead and that made Robin smile even more. Maybe, in some reality, he actually enjoyed talking to her too. Seriously enjoyed it, that is, not just because she kept on talking to him first. Once the kettle whistled, she added the boiling water to her instant coffee and then balanced the letter, the envelope, her book, her journal AND the coffee mug up the stairs and towards the desk in her room. She had a letter to write after all.

… … …

Robin received the next letter three weeks after she had written to Snape about her experiences at the conference. She’d been careful in her explanations to always leave some things unsaid so she would have something to tell him in person, but she had elaborated on the conversations she’d had with people he might possibly know.

This time his letter was dropped off by an owl on a Sunday evening, which almost gave Robin’s dad a seizure when the poor animal landed on the windowsill next to his armchair. Somehow muggles just couldn’t get used to the post being delivered by owls… People have used pigeons to deliver messages for decades; what was so weird about owls now?!

“Oh look, it has the same illegible handwriting on it as the last one.” Her mom smiled as she picked up the envelope that again just had Robin’s name written on it. “How come your friend didn’t write to you in the last years?”

“We, uh… we’ve only been friends since rather recently.” Robin replied evasively and snatched the envelope out of her mother’s hand. “And his handwriting isn’t illegible! It’s just… kinda squiggly.”

“If you say so, sweetie.” Her mom shrugged, and turned back towards the living room. “You must have a lot of practice deciphering his handwriting if you find it legible.”

“We work together. A lot.” Robin mused and thumbed over the rough corners of the envelope. “On… essays.”

“Well, if I had to grade his essays, he surely wouldn’t come very far.” Her dad replied with a snarky expression while he didn’t even look up from his book. “I’m surprised that you write essays in that school in the first place. Not just bunnies in top hats then, huh?”

“You are who wouldn’t come very far.” Robin whispered to herself with a roll of her eyes as she made for her room with her letter still clasped tightly in hand, not even honoring her father’s remark with a reply. Honestly, her dad wouldn’t understand a single word about anything magical at all, seeing as he made every attempt not to, nor would he ever understand that she wasn’t attending a clown’s college but a serious magical academy. And… oh bloody hell, he would probably hate Snape with a passion. Well, good thing they never had to meet. Hopefully. Unfortunately. Ugh… that crush of hers wasn’t getting any better, rather on the opposite. But she usually could ignore it pretty well these days.

With a sigh she sat down on the carpeted floor, leaning against the post of her bed as she opened the envelope at last. This letter was a lot shorter than the first, but she didn’t mind. The sole fact that he had replied even though he didn’t have to was enough to make her skin crawl in excitement.

Miss Mitchell.

I cannot believe that you told off one of the best renowned potioneers in the country, and obviously were in the right to do so. What I would give to have been a witness of the incident indeed; I have always had a rather strong distaste for that man. You will need to tell me more on the specifics of the circumstances once term starts.

Furthermore I have come to the decision that I would like you to assist me in my practical work and studies from now, seeing as I deem any other mode of teaching you insufficient and thus pointless. Your knowledge is already on an acceptable level, as you have once more proven at the conference, and I believe it is time that your practical capabilities keep up with both my standards for your work and your own. You will assist me in my work, and in return I will do my best to teach you everything I possibly can. Seeing as you have run out of books of mine to read, I believe this addition to our already prevalent nightly meetings to be in your best interest as well. I am looking forward to the new term.

Snape

Seconds ticked by and Robin stared at the letter in her hands with a positive numbness, until at last her lips curled into a smile, then a grin, and at last she felt an overwhelming excitement at the opportunity that had just opened up in front of her. Well, and the fact that he had in all seriousness written 'already prevalent nightly meetings’ without any care in the world. It was amazing how absolutely serious and yet casual he was about it. A pleasant shudder ran up Robin’s spine, all the way into her neck. He couldn’t mind her presence all that much if he suggested her to spend even more time perched into the minimal space of the laboratory with him, could he?

She had been helping out in the lab on a few occasions since their endeavour with the restored page in her third year, but it by far hadn’t been a regular thing nor one that could be described as real practical experience. While she’d been desperately wanting and wishing to do this kind of practical work with Snape again, for a multitude of reasons, she had never actually believed that she might. And now she would. God, she couldn’t wait for the holidays to be over already.

______________________________

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soulmate-game · 5 years ago

Text

Oneshot #2

What if Marinette had never won the Wayne Enterprises competition?

Well, her and Damian’s meeting would have probably went something like this.

—*—*—*—*—*

The asian-French hero looked down at her palm, where a plain silver ring sat at the center of the long silver chain around her neck. They had done it. Seven years, lots of reversed deaths, way too many close calls, and Adrien was in a wheelchair for the next few months at least. If he ever got back on his legs at all.

That wasn’t even brushing over the painful fact that he was now an orphan by all rights, his mother finally buried and his father rotting in prison. It was the epitome of a bittersweet victory, and Marinette couldn’t stand to stay in the same city as where it had happened anymore.

It wasn’t like she had a choice, anyway. Marinette was the Guardian now, and the fallout of the last fight led to her parents figuring out her identity. That couldn’t be allowed to stick, so she had asked Plagg to erase their memory of the discovery. She knew Plagg didn’t have the best restraint with his powers, but the effects would never wear off and could never be reversed.

Sure enough, they didn’t just forget that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was Ladybug. They forgot that Marinette Dupain-Cheng had ever been born.

So the Guardian, for she had held that title since her eighteenth birthday, gathered up all her belongings. She emptied her bedroom as if it had never held a child to begin with, sold everything she didn’t need and packed away what she did. She took the Miracle Box with her, of course. And Chat’s ring. He could wear it anymore anyway, and Marinette didn’t have anyone she could trust it to.

Kagami and Luka gave back their Miraculous, too. As did Chloè. They didn’t need to fight HawkMoth anymore, and they deserved normal lives now that the war was over. Marinette was not about to take from them the very thing she couldn’t have.

So she found herself in Gotham City, her hair cut into a long pixie in an attempt to change up her look. She didn’t need people recognizing her, especially since she had no intention of giving up her hero work. She set up a boutique, she already had more than enough of a clientele and solid reputation to keep her in business for at least a few years. She was twenty years old, and the world saw her as a rising star instead of the crashed meteor she felt like.

The Kwamis saw it. Every time they left the Box (and Marinette liked giving them all at least a day or two every week to stretch their legs, so to say), they would see her darkening bags under her eyes and the almost permanent slump to her shoulders. Her bed almost looked brand new even after several months in Gotham.

She closed her hand around the ring for a moment, before slipping it onto her right thumb. The now-familiar coursing energy of Destruction ran over her body like a current of electricity, promising a fatal shock at even the slightest mistake.

Good thing she was a manic perfectionist.

“Plagg, merge.”

The cat Kwami was sucked into the ring, dying it black and giving birth to the green paw on the flat top. Marinette’s already darkened and Gotham-ized Ladybug costume gaining a few spikes, a black leather jacket, her utility belt holding her yo-yo darkened into charcoal gray with green accents and a red-and-Black extendable bo staff. Instead of a domino mask, stylized black ski goggles covered her eyes, the magical glass tinting maroon in the right lighting. The tips of Marinette’s short hair dyed into a dark mossy green.

“Let’s show these Gotham villains that they can’t just toss us around,” she said to the empty air, as if promising to herself that her half-year absence from the hero scene hadn’t filled her skills at all.

(And it probably hadn’t, since she had kept up with her own training regiment during the hours she really should have been using to sleep, but she wouldn’t be Marinette if she didn’t doubt her own skills every now and then.)

With a soft whisper of “cataclysm,” she laid her hand on the metal door that had been slammed shut. It rusted and crumbled away into dust immediately. She wouldn’t let Scarecrow hold her charity gala hostage. Sure, it hadn’t been as extravagant as something thrown by the Waynes, but it was her first gala and had had a surprisingly large turnout. People had fallen in love with their new Gotham celebrity philanthropist.

Surprisingly, she wasn’t alone. Right then, the windows in the rented building shattered, allowing three very familiar masked men to drop in at the three other corners of the room. With Marinette, they made a full square of heroes surrounding the Gotham villain and his screaming hostages.

“Separate,” she whispered, her Plagg-induced accessories fading away to reveal her in just her Ladybug outfit. Her domino mask was replaced by a maroon and black-polka dotted motorcycle helmet with a rose-red visor covering the upper half of her face. She had on matching fitted cargo pants in the same pattern, and a long-sleeved black turtleneck with two large, hot rod red half-circles over both sides of her waist. Calf-High black combat boots with red soles and maroon stripes up the outer edges completed the new Ladybug look. Not including the ever-familiar yo-yo sitting on a thin red utility belt on her hips, anyway.

The three Gotham-native vigilantes observed everything, including the unfamiliar figure in red and black that seemed to be on their side, at least for now.

“Robin,” Batman spoke up. “Red Robin and I will engage Scarecrow. Get the hostages out and administer the antidote for the fear toxin. If we haven’t wrapped things up by the time you're done, come back here.”

The colorful vigilante let out a tsk at being left out of the combat, but knew he would be the fastest at evacuating the victims. They were all under fear toxin and several were having very violent reactions to it, so his no-nonsense approach would be the best match up with wrangling the civilians out of the building.

“I’ll help you,” an unfamiliar female voice crackled over their coms, making the three vigilantes stiffen. “Relax, my suit’s magic patched me in to your frequency. You can call me Ladybird. I won’t get in your way, but I’m not gonna just sit back and watch either.”

“If you slow me down, I’m hogtying you and leaving you for the Commissioner,” Robin warned, her gaze flashing over to the unfamiliar hero right as her ruby-red lips curled up into a secretive smirk.

“Fair enough.”

Batman and Rex Robin rushed into the fight then, seeing as Nightwing couldn’t distract Scarecrow forever. The blue vigilante used their sudden take over of the fight to turn his attention to Scarecrow’s rented goons, and knock guns out of hands.

Ladybird and Robin took over the rest. Working like a surprisingly well-oiled machine, they seemed to know exactly which victim to grab next to avoid getting in the other’s way. Robin noted that Ladybird seemed surprisingly well-versed in handling panicking victims that fought back, easily trapping their limbs to their bodies and carrying them out forcibly yet efficiently. She was also surprisingly quiet, whispering to the more coherent victims and doing her best to keep the evacuation as subtle as possible.

She was equally quick in administering the antidotes that Robin handed out to her, her hands clothed in black motorcycle gloves easily sliding the needles of the syringes into the right arteries without a second of hesitation.

Luckily, they hadn’t had to go back into the fight after getting all the victims rounded up and cured. Ladybird has just finished handing out shock blankets when Robin’s team filed out of the building with an unconscious Scarecrow held limply between them. A few statements and evacuated victims later, and the three met up with Ladybird in a nearby alley.

“Who are you, and why are you in Gotham?”

“Ladybird,” she said calmly, ignoring the beeping in her helmet. She had used her cure discreetly to reverse any physical damage the vigilantes and victims had taken, and hoped they wouldn’t notice until the next day. It had taken her a while to learn how to make the magical ladybugs invisible, but it was a useful skill. “I used to be Ladybug, back in Paris, but Paris doesn’t need heroes anymore. I came here for a new start, that’s it. I don’t plan to get in your way, but don’t expect me to stay out of it when bad things happen.”

“Oh, so we’re just supposed to accept a new vigilante with magic popping up and sticking their noses in our business, are we?” Robin challenged, stepping forward with hostility in every muscle of his body. Ladybird, to her credit, did not even flinch. In fact, even though she was over a foot shorter than Robin, she just straightened up to make the most of every inch of height she had. It was shockingly effective. She petit female could apparently make a very intimidating presence when she wanted to.

“I don’t plan on leaving, so you either play nice or get the nice beat into you,” she said with a falsely cheerful voice. A growl pulled itself from the back of Robin’s throat.

The rest of the BatFam watched with barely restrained tension. None of them were happy about a new, unknown vigilante in town, sure. But Robin was by far the last person they would have chosen to confront the new person.

“I’d like to see you try, shorty,” Robin purred menacingly, a sharp grin overtaking Ladybird’s mouth at the challenge.

“Gladly, little birdy,” She chimed right back. They lunged at the same moment, Ladybird’s hand gripping Robin’s bicep to try and throw him over her shoulder at the same moment that the man’s fist made contact with one of the large spots on her waist.

But before any real damage could be done, a flash of green light erupted around them, surrounding both heroes and separating them with business-like speed. They blinked at each other as they were forced to separate, wondering if Green Lantern had made a surprise visit to Gotham.

But that was not it, they realized, the green was much too dark a shade and proceeded to sink into the skin around their wrists. A mechanical voice sounded in the air.

“WARNING: GAME FOUL. ATTACKS BETWEEN SOULMATES OUTSIDE OF FRIENDLY SPAR ARE PROHIBITED.”

“What the hell—“

“INITIATING GAME START.”

Both heroes’ vision split in half, just as Marinette’s one-hour timer ran out and her transformation dissolved.

“Well. I’m Marinette, I guess. Your soulmate.”

She watched from two different perspectives as Robin’s eyes widened behind his mask and her own star-struck face contrasted starkly with her unaffected tone of voice. Apparently exhaustion saps the emotion from someone’s tone.

“Holy plot point, Batman.”

“I thought we agreed you would never say something like that again, Nightwing.”

—*—*—*—*—*

#mlb x dc #maribat #daminette

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thattimdrakeguy · 5 years ago

Text

Why people aren’t liking Tim Drake’s soon to be costume

I see people curious as to why people aren’t enjoying Tim Drake’s new costume. The most simple way of explaining is just to say it’s just bad character design.

This is the costume people aren’t liking

Even ignoring the color scheme, because the color scheme can work for some characters. It’s worked for characters like Wolverine before. So it’s not that the color of the costume is brown, black (maybe gray), and yellow.

It’s just that it’s not a good character design for Tim.

A character design is supposed to let people know a lot about the character when you look at them.

With animated movies or shows it’s a little easier, you can make them look more menacing or sweeter just by the expression on their face, but with live action, and to a certain extent comics, costume design matters a lot.

Not to say how you draw the person doesn’t matter, it matters a heck of a lot, you draw the character in a way that doesn’t represent the character well and you’ve ruined the perception of them, but

costume design matters a heckuva lot too, because comics is a more realistically styled medium of art.

Indiana Jones as a teacher dresses in tweed and smart glasses because he’s highly intelligent.

Indiana Jones as an adventurer wears dusty practical clothes, and carries around a bag to keep his stuff in so it’s on him at all time, because he’s a (mostly) serious and practical adventurer.

You get a really good idea of who Indiana Jones is just by looking at his costume.

It works the same way for superheroes in their costumes if they’re done well.

With Batman he’s dark, mysterious, and practical. The cowl doesn’t let you see too much of his face, his costume is typically colored to make it easy for him to blend into the shadows, and his cape allows himself to hide himself more. It fits the whole entire aura the character is suppose to give off.

Spider-Man wears a thing full body suit, because he needs to hide his boyish face, and he needs to be able to hide it under his street clothes. It’s also has bright and bombastic colors that allow him to be seen at night because his personality is pretty loud himself. So it’s just very fitting in that way.

To use an example of this in the very same comic: Conner Kent has good character design, you feel like you know who he is when you look at him with a leather jacket with spikes, and an overall punk-ish look. You know he’s rebellious and not very shy about himself right away.

Even with Bart: it’s simplistic, easy to run in, and more or less just features a basic lightning bolt. He’s’s a simple thinker (which matches with the simple design), he’s fast so the tight look works, and he’s full of energy which also works well with the lightning bolt, it just works. It immediately gives you an idea of how Bart conducts himself.

Tim’s last costume even: Boyish with the short sleeves, slick, ninja-esque, with armor. He’s 16, dweeby and acts comparatively average so a boyish look really works for him. He has to be sneaky, he’s been trained to be like a ninja, and isn’t as strong as his other teammates. It had bright enough colors to let you know he wasn’t as shy or mysterious as Batman is, but it’s still dark in the right areas like his cape and tights to show that he’s at least still a little bit mysterious plus good at the sneaky stuff, and it also doubles as making his costume being more practical. It’s excellent character design through and through.

Amethysts costume is pretty much a BAMF princess. That’s her character.

Cassie and Keli are casual, street clothes, with only a shirt that tells people who they are, because they’re pretty freaking casual generally laid-back people (except when you get on their nerves).

and well, Jinny’s a cowgirl, she dresses as a cowgirl.

With good character design you just feel like you know about them from just one good look at them.

Red Robin was a good costume for Tim at the time of Red Robin even, he wasn’t acting like himself, so he didn’t dress like himself. It was sort of the whole point of the costume and especially the cowl. It worked well because of the story, but not so much the character all the time, as in, that costume wouldn’t work anymore.

Batman’s costume works all the time, because besides minor changes to fit the character at the time or what was the tastes at the time, the dark, mysterious vibe just always fit him. So that’s a different story.

Tim’s soon to be costume doesn’t have any character to it, I’ve seen people say it makes him look wiser, older, more dangerous, but that’s not his character right now.

He’s teasing more, he’s 16 still, and besides one page he hasn’t really been all that dangerous either.

So as a character design it just doesn’t work for who he is at the moment.

When you look at Tim’s soon to be costume, it tells you nothing about him. His costume is going to be colored in a way that’s more considered old fashioned, rough, and been around since it’s brown.

Hence why it works for someone like Wolverine, who is all of those things.

Brown can also mean loyal, safe, and dependable though.

Which does fit Tim quite a bit.

But there’s also the matter of his story now,

because the colors also mean, sad, isolated, and lonely at the same time.

Which is the complete opposite of the personal story he’s in. Which is warm and fuzzy.

His story is finding his friends, getting his life back, and finally learning to be happy again.

The color brown doesn’t fit what his story or character is, and not enough traits of the color warrant it’s inclusion in his costume.

Making it a really poor choice.

Even when looking past the colors and you just look at the costume, there’s nothing to it. It’s a basic modern superhero costume.

It has more noticeable armor to restrict it from looking like the basic tights of a classic superhero costume, and there’s also random yellow lines all over it.

They don’t set up much of a vibe for his character.

It does nothing that a good costume design is suppose to do.

When you take away the colors of the other teammates costume it doesn’t change the basic details the design gives them. They work about the same if the comic was colored in nothing but black and whites (or at least for the most part if the style of the comic needed it, the colors are the finishing touches after all).

Conner still looks rebellious, Cassie looks casual, Jinny’s still a cowgirl, Amethyst’s a princess, Bart’s simple but hyper, and Keli is practical, while previous Tim was a boyish but slick ninja.

With Tim’s new costume you get nothing out of it one way or another, it’s bizarrely chosen color scheme is the only reason it sticks out to anyone, and the colors don’t work for the character at the moment.

It just has yellow lines. There’s nothing to the design that make it all that good to make it stick out as a character design. It feels like it has nothing to do with Tim, and what you could stretch to feel like Tim is typically because of the color and the color itself presents way more things that make it feel like a terrible Tim color.

So there’s nothing there that works for Tim as his costume. Which is why people really aren’t liking it.

The bases of good character design just aren’t there in Tim’s new costume.

It says nothing, and it’s color choices don’t fit the character it was made to be worn by.

Tan works for an old fashioned cowgirl who just lost her mom like Jinny, but it’s not for someone who’s learning to be happy and find his friends again like Tim.

If the theories of it being a costume Naomi gave Tim are true, then it could be excused a bit more, but if it’s his permanent costume, it’s still a bad choice of costume for him.

Being the colors of motor-oil and gasoline isn’t a color that should be the first thing people notice about Tim and his costume.

No one involved with the comic is even saying if this is gonna be his permanent costume, but the lack of anyone saying anything else just isn’t pleasant either.

Saying “it’s not that bad” doesn’t take away the natural vibes that the color brings to the table, or the lack of any personality to be seen in the costume with it’s detail.

“It’s not that bad” doesn’t make it good. It just means it’s not that bad to you. Which doesn’t take away from how that’s your opinion, but when I’m seeing “it’s not that bad” used to it’s defense, it starts to get annoying, because it feels like a lot of the obvious (or I suppose not so obvious for some) is being ignored.

You can like it though, that’s not why I’m upset, and making this post.

It’s just starting to get annoying because I see ones talking about people being upset at his new look like it’s completely silly to be upset, when there’s enough reasons to not like it.

When you really care about a character, he just had his own best design in years even, and it’s already being taken away after not having it that long to begin with to be replaced for something that really lacks in everything, it’s majorly disappointing.

Young Justice seemed really promising when it was first being advertised, and even in it’s first couple of issues, but when you start taking away the things that make it promising, of course people are going to be disappointed.

Don’t treat people like it’s silly to not like a costume just because you don’t think it’s that bad. Not every type of upset equals firey impractical rage.

Sometimes it’s just frustrating disappointment, because it keeps happening too much.

Tim deserved better, and a lot of people just seem to think so.

Even if people get used to this costume, and quiet down because nothing’s changing. That still doesn’t mean they did a good job on the costume, or that it’s good costume design for Tim.

That still sticks.

#Tim Drake #Bat-Family #Bat-Fam #BatFamily #BatFam #DC Comics #Robin #Wonder Comics #Young Justice #Young Just Us

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ruthoakenshield · 4 years ago

Text

The Lady in the Black Leather (Ch 20)

catch up here: [chapter 19]

Richard X reader , Aiden X Scarlett X Reader

Morning came all too soon for you. Aiden & Scarlett woke you up knocking on your door at 8am. The officer from last night looks up at them then over to you. You grin and nod and he motions for them to enter.

Scarlett comes in and plops on the bed and hands you a hot cup of coffee. You thank her and sip on it. The officer stands and tells you that he will go out in the hallway and let you have some time with your friends and to call for him if you need anything.

You thank him and he heads out to the hall.

Aiden wandered in and plopped down on the floor and petted Phantom. “So, how’s it going with Rich?” he asks. “Good.” You reply with a smug grin.

“You two getting pretty close? He looked so worried about you yesterday after you had been shot. It really scared him, Harley. I think more than he wanted to let on.” he tells you.

You nod. “Yeah, we have talked a lot and are getting close. I have never been treated the way he treats me. All my prior boyfriends were jerks compared to him. They never treated me with kindness and only manhandled me roughly.” You tell him. Scarlett rolls her eyes and says, “Now that’s and understatement if I ever heard one!”

You glare at her and continue, “Richard makes me feel safe and loved. It’s still hard for me to get used to. It helps though that he always has a hand resting gently on me. Either on my back or around my waist or on my arm, or just holding hands.” You reply.

Scarlett and Aiden grin. “Yeah, we noticed he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you.” They both giggle. “He can be quite possessive, but it’s always in a good way, don’t worry.” Aiden tells you.

“Chivalry certainly isn’t dead with him!” Scarlett giggles.

You giggle. “Well, I don’t want a knight in shining armor.” You reply as you raise the bed up more so you’re more in a sitting position. You wince and adjust your weight, so it isn’t on your left leg as much.

Aiden looks at you confused. “I thought that was what all women wanted, a knight in shining armor to come rescue them and take them to the castle to live happily ever after. Why don’t you want that?” he asks.

You chuckle. “Thank You Disney for giving young impressionistic women such a dangerous ideal! I much prefer Tolkien’s version of Knights/warriors and royalty. If I’m gonna have a knight come and rescue me, I want him in dented and dinged up armor. A knight in shining armor means he hasn’t seen battle and never waged war. You don’t know if he’ll stick around when the battle gets intense, or if he’ll tuck tail and flee, leaving you to fend for yourself.

Whereas a knight in dented and dinged up armor shows he HAS seen battle and had his mettle tested. It means he has fought, defeated and survived what the world has thrown at him. And not fled when the going got tough. He stands and fights to defend what he loves and cares about.” You giggle. “He’s a real warrior!”

Scarlett nods. Aiden just smirks and grins widely. “I guess I never thought of it that way, but I get what you’re saying. It makes sense.” He tells you as he takes a bite of his breakfast sandwich.

“So, speaking of knights, what are your plans for today? Isn’t Sir Guy working all day today?” Scarlett asks.

You giggle and nod catching her Robin Hood reference to Richard. “Yeah, he’s workin’ all day today. He asked Graham if he’d stay with me today and meet with the attorney that Rich hired for me.

I guess I have to appear before the judge to tell him my side of the story. Then I have to appear before him again as my ex stands before him and explains himself. After that, the judge will make his ruling on the restraining order being made permanent or temporary.” You explain.

“How are you going to appear before a judge when you’re in the hospital?” Aiden asks.

“I guess Alex was going to try to set something up using the internet and video calling.” You explain. “I am not entirely sure.”

“Ah, that would make sense then.” He replies.

You nod and are quiet for a few minutes. “Thank you for the flowers and balloon, you two.” You tell Aiden and Scarlett.

“Glad you like them, Hun.” Scarlett says. “You seem pretty quiet this morning. Didn’t you sleep very well?” she asks.

You shake your head. “No, the nurses were in and out a lot checking on me every hour. The officer assigned to guard me ended up telling them to let me sleep and to leave me alone for a while.” You tell her. “I’m just tired and been thinking about a lot of stuff.” You reply.

(You spent a lot of last night thinking of all the people who have helped you and wondered how you can thank them for everything. Saying ‘thank you’ just doesn’t seem to be enough.

You decided to do something nice for each person who has helped you through this. Starting with Richard and Graham. You make a note to ask Graham what you could do for something special for Rich.

You thought about Graham and how far away his family is. You wish you could meet them and say “Hi” so they can put a face with a name. You decide to ask him about his family today and ask him what their names are.)

You ask Aiden how long he has known Graham and Rich. He replied they all met on the set of the Hobbit films. You ask him what kinds of things does Rich like. You explain that you realized you didn’t know much about him, he always turns the conversations to be about you.

Aiden chuckled. “He always does that. And it can get to be annoying. He hates talking about himself. I’ve learned most of what I know just by watching him & listening & observing.” Aiden explains. “He likes to read, and has several Lego sets of the Hobbit. He’s just a big little kid at heart. He likes a good wine, chocolate ice cream, and good coffee, and was pretty good at horse riding and sword fighting. He is frugal with his money, but isn’t afraid to splurge on those he loves. He did mention one time that his Mom used to help him answer fan mail and it meant a lot to him. He really misses her, she passed away a few years ago.

He doodles, and dances, and tends to write back stories for his characters he portrays.” Aiden tells you.

“So, if I wanted to do something super special for him as a ‘thank you’ for all the help he has been, what would be something meaningful for him?” you ask.

“Hmmm. I don’t know. Maybe a nice journal for him to do his writing in, or taking him to a winery for a private tour? I guess it depends on what you want to spend. He really just seems to cherish spending time with you, Harley.” Aiden tells you.

You nod.

“Well, I need to get ready. I’m supposed to spend the day with Graham. I have no idea what we are going to do other than meeting with the lawyer. He said to let him know when I was up and ready to go.” You tell them.

“Ok.” Aiden says as he stands up. “If you want some company, let us know. We can meet up with you later on.”

“Thanks, Aiden, I’ll let you know.” You tell him.

“I’ll head out and get us some breakfast while you get ready. What do you want, Scarlett?” He tells her with a kiss to her cheek and brushes a strand of her curly, red hair off her face.

“I’ll eat whatever you find, Sweetie.” She tells him.

“What about you, Harley?” he asks.

“Thanks, Aiden, but Graham is picking up breakfast for me on his way here.” You tell him.

Aiden nods and heads out to get himself and Scarlett breakfast.

You grab your phone and text Graham. “Morning Pops! What’s the plans for today besides meeting with the attorney?”

He texts back “Morning Sunshine! Not sure what we’ll end up doing. We can figure that out when I get there. Still want breakfast? How’d last night go?” he replies.

“Ok, Yes, can you pick up something for breakfast, please? Didn’t get much sleep. Nurses kept me up checking on me every hour till the officer told them to leave me alone and let me sleep.” You text him. “When ya coming up to see me?”

“Be there in about an hour, Sweetie.” He texts back. “Finishing up some stuff here before I go.” He replies.

“Ok Pops, see ya soon! 😊”

Scarlett grins and shows you that she brought up some of your tops and corsets. “So you feel a little more comfortable.” The nurses said you can put the tops on but want you to wait with the corsets till later.” She tells you.

Scarlett helps you find something to wear and you end up putting on a long sleeved black peasant top with the shorts the hospital provided. A nurse helped with the ports, disconnecting them long enough for you to put the top on and then re-connected the iv’s to the ports.

Scarlett helps you with washing your face and helps with your hair and the two of you have fun playing around with a few different hair styles for your incredibly long hair. The two of you settled on a 5 strand Dutch French braid.

Aiden comes back in after a bit with breakfast for him and Scarlett and said, “Oooohhh! I like the hair!” as he comes over and admires your braid hanging over your shoulder. “Your hair is SO long, Harley! How long did it take to grow it out like that?” he asks.

You giggle. “10 years!” you reply and laugh as Aiden’s jaw drops.

“What?!?! Did you just say 10 years?!?!?!” he asks.

You nod.

“Wow!” he replies as he runs his fingers along the braid. “How do you keep it so soft and nice looking?” he asks.

You chuckle. “Hair oil, and I get it trimmed regularly to control split ends. I also try to keep it in some kind of braid or updo so it’s not just flying all over and getting all tangled up.” You reply.

He nods. “I can’t imagine having hair this long. We thought the long wigs we had to wear for The Hobbit were annoying. They kept getting in our faces and making it hard to see. When we weren’t filming, they were all tied back so it was out of our faces.” He tells you.

You giggle. “But you all looked so damn sexy with long hair!” you tease. He blushes and grins.

Scarlett digs through the bag of food Aiden brought and hands him a breakfast sandwich, “Here, Aid. Sit and eat.” She tells him as she pulls out one and a container of tater tots and sets them on the bedside table.

You giggle and snitch a few tater tots and pop them in your mouth. Grinning wickedly when Aiden says, “Hey! You said you didn’t want anything!”

Scarlett smacks him on the arm. “Oh hush! She can have a few of the tater tots to hold her till Graham gets here!” she scolds.

Just then you get a text from Rich. “Hey Love! Am just taking a break on set and thought I’d say, ‘hi and love you!’ How’s it going this morning?”

You reply back, “Hi Hon! The morning’s going good. Just getting ready for the day. Aiden and Scarlett are here now & Graham will be here in an hour. He had to run some errands before we meet with the attorney.” You message back.

He sends you a thumbs up emoji and ‘Have fun, sweetheart! See you after work. Xoxo’

If you wish to be added / deleted from the tag list let me know:

Tagging: @fizzyxcustard @thorinthehottytotty @dumbassunderthemountain@deepestfirefun @thetherianthropydaily @daisy-picking-lady @spookybunny-blog @dabisburntnut @emrfangirl @midnight-reader-morning-sleeper @hilary456 @criminaly-supernatural

#richard armitage #reader x richard armitage #aiden turner #Scarlett #Harley #Phantom #breakfast #getting to know each other #getting to know you #chit chat #making plans #love notes #fluff #affection

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the--blackdahlia · 5 years ago

Text

You’re All That I Need Chapter 2 (Tommy x Nikki)

Title: You’re All That I Need Chapter 2

Summary: It’s the early 80’s and Nikki Sixx is in need of a band. There’s one condition: no other alphas. That should be fine, since he found three betas to fill up the lineup to become Motley Crue. Or, at least he thinks they’re all betas.

Series Warnings: M/M smut (18+ only please), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, mpreg, language, slight drug use, protective Nikki, (might add more as we go)

“What the fuck is that?” Nikki groaned as the beta who was playing guitar went way too slow. Tommy sighed and threw his head back before heading outside to get some cigarettes from his car. Nikki’s eyes followed him. He told Robin to take five and he would be back.

“It’s...unique…” Tommy sighed as he lit up his cigarette and took a drag before passing it over to Nikki.

"It’s shit," Nikki growled. “We can’t do that with him man.” He took a puff before passing the cigarette back to Tommy.

Tommy opened his mouth to reply when his attention was grabbed by the ugliest car he had ever seen pulling up to the curb. The car was unceremoniously thrown in park and a short, angry looking beta got out.

“Dude, get a load of that,” Tommy nodded to the car. Nikki stayed put on the patio, sizing him up, while Tommy went down to help him get his equipment out of the car.

"Going by the looks of you two, this is where the band tryouts are?" He grumbled as he pulled his amp out of the back of his borrowed hatchback.

"Yeah, I’m Tommy. I’m the drummer. And up there is Nikki. He’s the bassist,” Tommy explained to him. Mick looked Tommy up and down before nodding.

"Mick Mars, give me a second and we can get started."

“Okay, cool dude,” Tommy helped him get an amp out of his car, feeling Mick size him up. He was obviously a beta, but Tommy felt the chill of an alpha staring at him.

“Pretty scrawny for a drummer,” Mick commented after a couple beats of silence.

“Well, I was in Suite 19,” Tommy was pretty proud of himself. Suite 19 had played at the Roxy not too long ago. And he loved to brag to the guys he went to school with about it. Nikki had London and Sister, Tommy had Suite 19.

“Suite 19? Shitty band,” Mick told him, pretty much crushing Tommy’s heart when he said that. Nikki just shook his head.

“Did you ever even see us play?” Tommy asked.

“Don’t need to,” Mick told him. “Shitty name? 10 times out of 10, they’re a shitty band. I should know. I’ve been in plenty of bands with shitty names.”

"Here let's do this," Nikki said handing music to Mick and Robin once Mick got settled and hooked up inside. Tommy smiled and got ready to play, but it all felt like it was going way too slow. That was until Mick hit the pedal and started blasting into it. Nikki looked back at Tommy. They both had the biggest grins on their faces. Until Robin stopped playing and turned to Mick and asked, "can you turn that down? I can't hear myself?"

Mick walked over to Nikki and Tommy, "what's with this hippie? Can he go?"

Nikki smirked, "you want him gone, tell him yourself."

Mick looked over to where Robin was trying to work out the chords.

"Hey," Robin looked up, "you need to go, there is only room for one guitar in this band..." Mick said brusquely.

"What.... Nikki?Tommy? Really? I was here first...." Robin was close to tears as he packed up and left.

"Who's gonna sing, it definitely ain't me" Mick asked, turning to look at Nikki and Tommy as Tommy got beers from the fridge to celebrate the forming of the trio.

“No way dude,” Tommy told him. “I gotta focus on my drums. Plus my sister lovingly tells me I sound like a bear going through a woodchipper.”

“I gotta meet this sister.” Mick laughed. Tommy shook his head.

“What about you Nikki?” Tommy asked. “Think you could sing?”

“Voice is too deep to get the sound we need,” Nikki admitted. “We need someone who can stand up there, belt out the words and bring the chicks in. Think we could still Diamond Dave from Van Halen?”

“I don’t think that’d go over too well.” Mick shook his head. “I don’t have any singers in mind.” Tommy’s eyes lit up then and he had a big smile that spread across his face.

"I know a guy I went to highschool with, I think he's in a cover band now, but they're playing at a party tomorrow we should go check it out." suggested Tommy.

“Depends,” Nikki told him. “Is he a…”

“He’s a beta,” Tommy told him. “I know you said no alphas. He’s a very, very slutty beta. Trust me on this one. He can bring girls in like an alpha, but he shouldn’t be fighting you like an alpha, you know?”

"Ok, let's check him out," Nikki agreed.

******

“What are we doing here?” Nikki asked, groaning a little as he heard the music being played. “This...doesn’t look like our kind of place.” He saw all the tan girls walking around with shirtless guys. Then he looked at himself and Mick; pale as could be, wearing long sleeves and leather jackets.

“Free booze I think is our kind of place.” Mick told him, nodding to the bar. Nikki marched over and grabbed a bottle of Jack from a guys hand before heading back over to Mick and Tommy.

“There’s fucking Billy Squire playing,” Nikki groaned, taking a big swig of the booze. “Please tell me that’s not him.”

“Hell yeah it’s him!” Tommy said, excited. “Dudes, isn’t he awesome? I went to high school with him. He’s exactly what we’re looking for!” Tommy wrapped an arm around Nikki’s shoulders. Tommy smiled at Nikki before walking away, heading towards the stage where the skinny blonde fucker with moves was dancing and singing.

“His voice is good.” Mick stated. Nikki nodded.

“Look what he’s doing to those chicks.” Nikki pointed out, watching the way that all the girls at the party were just drawn to him.

“I think he’s having that effect on Tommy too.” Mick chuckled, his eyes falling to the drummer who was watching the blond singer with intensity.

“Thank you! We’re Rockandi!” The band got done with their set and Tommy followed with the swarm of girls, heading towards the bar where the singer was heading.

****

“Tommy Bass?” Vince asked, his eyes lighting up as he saw his friend from school. He pulled Tommy in for a hug.

“It’s actually Tommy Lee,” Tommy told him.

“You got married? Who’s the lucky guy?” Vince teased with a smile on his face. Tommy laughed and shook his head.

“No man. Just dropped the last name. Sounds cooler,” Tommy smiled. “I’m in a band with those guys right there!” Tommy said excitedly, pointing at Mick and Nikki. Vince looked over at the pair. By the way Nikki was standing, Vince just knew he was an alpha. The other one, he wasn’t too sure about.

“Right…” Vince nodded. Tommy held out a homemade tape.

“This is us,” He told him. “My number is on the label. Listen to it and call us. And, just ignore mine and Nikki’s singing. It’s not pretty.”

“Okay, okay,” Vince laughed, taking the tape. Tommy smiled and headed back to Mick and Nikki, giving them a thumbs up.

“What’d he say?” Mick asked.

“He said he’d call us!” Tommy smiled. “Isn’t that exciting?!”

“Fantastic. Can we go now?” Nikki asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go,” Tommy had a big smile on his face as they left.

****

A week later Vince called them up and came by to audition, he'd gotten into it with his other band mates about the direction of the band. Vince showed up with a leggy blonde he called Lovie. Nikki handed him a sheet with some lyrics as they made their way in and Lovie settled herself on the couch.

“Live Wire?” Vince asked, looking over the words.

“Yeah dude! Nikki wrote it! He’s like, So-crates or something.” Tommy told him.

“It’s Socrates,” Mick rolled his eyes. “Dumbass fucking teenager.”

And the band started, they'd barely gotten 2 minutes in, when Lovie called for the band to stop, complaining that the sound was too heavy for Vince. Tommy could see Nikki’s alpha starting to get angry.

“She’s right. It is heavy.” Nikki smirked an angry alpha smirk.

“We could drop and raise these chords.” Mick said, pointing at the crudely drawn up music.

“And play it louder.” Tommy added with a big smile on his face.

“Just hit these lyrics here like you’re punching a fucker in the face,” Nikki told Vince, who nodded. “And muzzle that.” He added, pointing over at Lovey.

“Hey asshole! He doesn’t tell me what to do! I…” She was cut off by Mick’s guitar then. She was silenced as she watched the song come to life before her eyes. She sat back down, watching as the guys completely changed the song from what she had just heard. “Woah.”

Tommy looked up at Nikki after they finished the song. He expected anger for him suggesting things to change the song, but there was nothing like that there. Joy, amusement, and a little bit of lust was all mixed up into those green irises.

And Tommy felt his cheeks gets hot.

“I’ll be right back,” Tommy told them, heading to the bathroom to get a drink of water.

"Let's take 5,” Nikki commented as he watched the drummer walk away. He felt a strong urge to check on Tommy, worried that something was wrong. Nikki knocked on the bathroom door, "Tommy? You ok?"

"Yea, Nikki, I'll be out in just a minute," Tommy called. He was sitting on the floor, trying to pull himself together. Nikki's look caused him to get hot, and start dripping.... That wasn't good he would need to start doubling his suppressants.

He reached into his pants pocket to a small bottle. His parents had always taught him to keep it with him just in case. He took a couple of the emergency pills and swallowed them down with water from the tap. He closed his eyes as he felt them working. He always felt sick after using them, but he’d rather do this then jump Nikki. He opened the door, a little surprised to see the bassist standing there.

“Oh, hey,” Tommy told him, offering a smile.

"You sure you're good to keep going? You don't look so good?" Nikki questioned, he wasn't sure where this was coming from but he felt he needed to make sure the teen was ok.

“Yeah dude! Let’s get through this. I wanna take a nap,” Tommy joked with Nikki as he headed to his kit. Vince and Lovie were making out and Mick looked disgusted. But, then again, Mick looked disgusted by everything, so it wasn’t just Vince and Lovie.

"Let's get to this" Nikki directed, getting Vince's attention, " Let’s just keep doing the suggestions from earlier, but with this song.” He handed Vince the lyrics to “Take Me to the Top”. “I want “Live Wire” and this one to put on our demo to send into the labels. I think they’re our two top songs.”

“Sounds good,” Vince nodded, reading over the words. “Good song here So-Crates.” He gave Nikki a smile before Tommy started the drumroll that would kick off the song.

The band kicked into gear, and with Vince's vocals it was like magic - Lovie was certain they were gonna be huge!

And suddenly, everything fell into place.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk

Motley Crue Tags: @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @livingdeadharley @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321 @flamencodiva

#you're all that i need #Tommy Lee #nikki sixx #Motley Crue #terror twins #tommy lee x nikki sixx #nikki sixx x tommy lee #fanfiction #abo

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soleminisanction · 6 years ago

Text

The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship

Poised on the upper landing of the Manor’s grand staircase, Brianna Wayne bears a striking resemblance to Tim’s mother. They have the same sense of style (fine suits and commanding high heels, though Bria prefers boots to pumps), the same regal demeanor (squared shoulders, perfect posture, head raised high) and the same all-encompassing presence that makes his mouth go dry and his heart pound against tightening ribs.

They are of the same breed: resilient women in a man’s world, self-forged into weapons that only fools would dare challenge. The creeping knowledge that this woman is also Batwoman, Gotham’s dark knight, only increases the tension. He’s known for years, but now she knows that he knows. And he’s here to train with her. To maybe, if he proves himself, become Robin.

Tim has never been more excited in his entire life, nor more terrified.

He hides the latter with a grin, hands tense on the straps of his book-bag. “Hiya, Ms. Wayne.”

“Bria is fine.” As Bria descends, her cool, dark eyes give Tim a once-over, taking in his school uniform (rumpled), his hair (gelled, but wilted since this morning), and his school-bag (full of homework and the clothes he’ll need for this weekend visit). Her painted lips thin into a tight line. Her expression is unreadable.

Her gaze burns into Tim until he squirms, his chest growing tighter than ever. When they’d first met, Bria could hardly meet his eye; he’d been dressed as Robin, after all, a ringer for her dead partner and son. Now that she saw him for real, he couldn’t shake the idea that those shadowed navy eyes are peering into his very soul.

She reaches the floor alongside him and pauses only a moment to complete her observation. Then she turns, gesturing for him to follow. “Before anything else, you and I need to talk. Alfred, some tea would be lovely.”

“Of course, Miss Brianna.” The old butler primly tucks his driving gloves into a coat pocket and clasps Tim on the shoulder as he strides for the kitchen. It’s meant to be supportive, but the very idea that Tim needs support makes his stomach squirm.

He stars up at Bria, willing himself not to pout. “Am I in trouble?”

Her gaze softens. “No. But we need this.”

Tim nods and follows, his sneakers almost as silent as her heels on the thick carpet. She leads him to her first-floor study and motions that he should take a seat on one of the couches. Tim obliges, tucking his backpack under his feet and trying not to stare at the grandfather clock, now that he knows what it hides.

Alfred appears shortly thereafter, bearing a full tea set and several fresh-buttered scones. He places the tray on the coffee table between them, prepares each a cup to their preference, and bows out, latching the door behind him.

Bria muses over a few long, silent sips before, at last, she begins. “So. Tim.”

He straights his posture. “Yes?”

“You must know we’ve investigated you.”

He deflates.

She knows. Of course she knows.

“Naturally, we began with your school.” Her tone and expression are both carefully even, like she’s trying to soothe a frightened dog. “We needed their permission for you to spend weekends here. That meant getting access to your student records, including your parents’ names…”

Tim bites the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming.

“…which led to Alfred’s revelation that, so far as the public knows, Jack and Janet Drake have only one child. A girl.”

Tim hurriedly sets down his teacup before his shaking hands can do it for him.

“Tim—”

“I’m sorry!” he blurts, hands clutched over his thighs. “I swear, I didn’t mean…I-I’m not lying. Wasn’t lying, I swear. I just…”

He blinks against the tears that prick at the back of his eyes. He doesn’t have the words to explain why and how he’d approached her like this, why he’d dressed in boy’s clothes and given the name “Tim” when Dick and Alfred had asked. Maybe he’d thought he could disappear after Dick came home. Or maybe, maybe, when he’d thought this would be his only chance to meet his heroes, he’d been desperate for them to see him as himself. Or maybe…

“Tim.”

Brianna’s second call, more firm, cuts through his thoughts like a warm knife through butter. His heart trips over the realization that she’s still using his name. She has also set down her teacup. She pats the embroidered cushion beside her.

“Come over here. I want to show you something.”

Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Tim abandons both his teacup and the untouched scone. Once he settles awkwardly alongside her, Brianna opens a coffee table drawer and pulls out a leather-bound family album, which she opens across both of their laps.

The photos contained within are clearly of her childhood. Some are even in black and white. They’re labeled in neat handwriting — Alfred’s, Tim would guess — but never with more than a date and few names. There’s school photos, galas, social events and private moments, all of the same three figures: a handsome man, a beautiful woman, and a lean, spritely dark-haired boy.

Tim frowns, his thoughts nagging, but it doesn’t register until Brianna stops on a family portrait. It looks very much like the one above the mantle in this very room, only the album’s version also features the young boy in a stiff, short-pants suit. The label beneath it reads only:

Masters Thomas and Martha Wayne, age 36 & 34 Master Bruce Wayne, age 7.

Tim stares at the page for a full thirty seconds before it finally clicks. He gasps as his head jerks up to stare at Brianna, goggle-eyed.

She smiles softly back, leaning in until their shoulders brush with something like affection. “I only figured myself out a decade after this was taken. I’d never heard of the word ‘transgender’ before then. It took me years to come out, but once I did…I’ve never looked back.” She lifts her hand, hesitates, then tucks a bit of hair behind Tim’s ear. “To possess that level of self-awareness at your age is admirable.”

Tim shake his head, trying to rattle his thoughts into some kind of order. “I…I’ve always known. I mean, I didn’t have the words, but I just…knew.”

Brianna nods in understanding. “When did you…”

She gestures to all of him. Boy’s haircut, boy’s uniform. Binder and cup.

“Just this year. I, ah, hacked the school records over the summer. Nobody noticed. New school, new level, new start and all.”

“And your parents?”

Without thinking, Tim’s shoulders slump. “They, ah. Haven’t been home to see my haircut yet. And without the gel they might not, you know.”

He bites his lip, silently begging that she won’t make him explain. Part of him wants his parents to know. He wants them to use the right name and stop sending him dolls or jewelry or dresses that feel like he’s wearing another person’s skin. But a larger part is afraid. What if they blow him off? What if his mother thinks he’s trying to cheat, to take “the easy way” to respect when she had to fight for it so hard? And Dad…Dad, who calls him “Janie” and dotes on “his princess,” who beams with pride when he sees the dresses he’s bought put to use…what would he even think?

To his unending relief, Brianna doesn’t pry, though she does gaze sadly upon her family photo. “My parents never had the chance to know. I’ve always regretted that. But it does make things easier.” She closes the album and sets it aside, turning to face Tim with a fiercely protective expression. “Tim, however this training pans out, I want you to know that you can always come to me if you need support. I have press contacts, access to research, top medical experts on speed dial, and a half-dozen lawyers on retainer who specialize in discrimination suits. And…I also have personal experience. For whatever that’s worth.”

She mutters that last bit, but to Tim, it means more than he could say. Brianna Wayne, Batwoman, C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises and one of the world’s greatest heroes, is like him.

He beams and half-wishes he could hug her. But they’re still basically strangers, so he holds back and hopes the smile says more than he can.

Brianna clears her throat and doesn’t look at him as she sets the photo album aside and stands up. “Now, about your training.”

Tim sits at attention. Brianna pins him with a sharp, stern look.

“No binders in the Cave.” She raises one finger to cut off his objections. “No buts. You’ll have enough bruised ribs from training alone, you don’t need to risk any more. Trust me, we have alternatives. Are you on puberty blockers?”

“No.”

“Do you want to be?”

“I don’t think my doctor would…”

“Your new one will. So long as it’s your choice, she’s supportive. And even if she wasn’t, well.” Bria shrugs. “It would hardly be the first drug I’ve procured under the table. Get changed after you finish that scone; you’re going to need the extra calories.”

She strides for the grandfather clock. Tim scarfs the last of his tea and hurries out to the guest room, where Alfred has laid out a training uniform. The first deep breath after he pulls off the binder tastes of sweet anticipation.

------

Four months later, Brianna presents him with a Robin costume all his own. He stands before a full-length mirror and admires the defined muscles of his armor, the way it broadens his shoulders and slims his hips. He puts on the mask and feels more like himself than ever before in his life.

And that night, the Boy Wonder flies again.

------

Originally posted on AO3 a bit over a week ago, but there’s been a lot of exclusionist bs on my feed today, so it’s here now too. Happy pride everybody.

#batman #robin #tim drake #bruce wayne #genderbends #genderbending #batmom au #batmom #the adventures of batmom and robin the transboy wonder #trans positivity #trans pride #batfamily #pride 2019 #happy pride 🌈#tw transphobia mention #fuck terfs and fuck transphobes

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shadowdianne · 6 years ago

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Ooh SQ Prompt Please: "Cyinide? I know it burns the tongue and taste acrid." Have fun with this please haha.

I had problems on deciding how to take this oneXd One of the things I wanted to do was to take this into my Of deals, magicand secrets ‘verse but that would have made me create quite the info-dump and Ichose against it Xd I absolutely love worldbuilding but I wasn’t sure thatwould have been enjoyed as the idea I had had very little SQ interaction perse.

So, that got me thinking into a canonicalscene, one that could have had that line or one that in where I could work theline on. And that led me to Jekyll and Hyde. (Seriously, killing both at season’s6 episode 4 was a waste for me, they built up these two characters only to killthem very quickly Xd)

So…

Set in at the end of 6x04. I hope you like itanon, thanks for the prompt

A03 version

“You don’tlike it.”

Reginalooked up as Emma entered into the living room; glasses of wine in hand.Schooling her features at the sight of the blonde offering her a drink thatRegina wouldn’t have considered to be the woman’s favorite, she tilted her headas Emma shrugged and sat the other side of the couch, maneuvering through the severalboxes here and there that filled the -up until now- almost ascetic space.

Taking theoffered glass, Regina stared as Emma put hers on top of the nearby coffeetable, nerves shinning through her in the form of sparks that clung to herfingers as she brushed her hands against her thighs, movements jittery. Turningto look at her, the blonde offered a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes asshe rose her right hand, pointing at the living room as if that would explainher statement. When Regina remained silent, Emma sighed softly before speaking,her voice echoing slightly in the space.

“The house,I mean.”

Reginapursed her lips as she covered her stomach with her free hand, the movement notgoing unnoticed by the younger woman as her eyes fell into Regina’s lap. Lasttime they had been seated at the couch the blonde had been quite the differentperson and Regina wondered that, if she squinted, she could draw back the whitehair over Emma��s blonde locks, the black leather over the flowery pattern ofthe blouse the woman was wearing, the harsh angles of her cheekbones over the nervousnessshe now sported. She also wondered if Emma was doing the same with her throughstolen glances; comparing the differences she knew that were there on her, onthe way she walked and spoke, on the way she felt the Queen’s absence beyondthe bloodlust and anger.

Clearingher throat, she shook her head but stopped just as Emma’s lips curved slightly,disbelievingly.

“I guess ahouse is not something that I’d have thought that suited you.” She bit down thetip of her tongue, hating the way her back muscles tightened, just like theydid whenever her mother asked her questions, probing, examining, Regina’sthoughts. She never had had this reaction with Emma before and yet there theywere. Rising her chin, she also put the wine aside, the thud against the table’ssurface unnaturally loud to her ears. “An apartment, however…”

She didn’tfinish the sentence, but Emma nodded, subdued, and Regina thought back on thewoman that had created the house in the first place. The anger that had fueled hermagic in the same way her own had created the town they were still walking in.

She lovedher mansion, she thought, but ever since the split the place had felt as muchas a home as threateningly huge; a side effect she guessed. One of many.

Pursing herlips together, she focused once more on Emma. The blonde’s fingers had starteddrumming against the blonde’s lap and the woman’s eyes were darkened enough tobring out the specks of blue and gold rather than the green. Narrowing her own,Regina waited, curious as what could have made Emma ask her to come by,especially after what had happened hours before.

“I doubtyou have called me here for me to tell you I don’t like the house.”

Emma chuckleda little at that, shrugging and Regina thought once more on how smaller shelooked against the larger than life blonde she had met years before. Hands onher lap, shoulders hunched, the blonde looked tired, worried, and Reginapressed the still tingling tongue against the back of her teeth, her magiccurled on her throat.

“I wasthinking… on what you made me promise.”

Regina startled.She had asked Emma to go where she knew others wouldn’t be able to go becauseshe knew, just as Emma had known, that there would not be other capable ofsuch. No other who would see beyond whatever walls they both tried to putbetween them and the rest. Emma knew this. She knew this. Talking about this,however, wasn’t something they did. They reacted to things, they fought againstthem. But never talked to each other, not after all was said and done.

Herexpression gave her away because Emma closed her eyes and sighed, pressing herback against the one of the couch, the resulting squeak of the material just asloud as the glass had been at the table’s surface.

“I just…”Emma stopped and let her head hung limp for a second, blonde locks obscuringher face. Regina waited, the grasp of the red dress she still hadn’t changed fromtightening. She needed Emma into this, she thought, she needed to know that ifno other option was found Emma would be there.

“You askedme the same thing.”

Her voice,which at any other time would have been veiled with anger almost sounded as ifshe was begging and she closed her eyes tightly for a heartbeat. She knew shehad changed; the Queen had been more than her anger and hate but it was painfulsometimes when she tried to reach to the bottomless source of what had been herstrength for so long only to find it lacking. She was able to feel anger, tofeel rage, but, just like every other time she had had her heart plucked out,those negative emotions were subdued, softer now, more human, less like thetitle she had once displayed haughtily and proud.

Emma’svoice made her blink back into the present, the blonde moving slightly closerbut remaining well away from her; another change she supposed. But one that hadbeen brewing way before the split. Another one they didn’t truly talk about.

“I won’tback away from that.” Emma seemed earnest and Regina could see the sincerity onthat just like she could see and feel Emma’s magic sparkling at the bottom ofher eyes, dancing on her irises. “But I’ve been thinking.”

Impatient,Regina reached for the glass, taking a sip as Emma fiddled with her fingers,eyes lowering once more. Her tattoo peeked from the sleeve of her blouse and Reginaglanced at it. She knew the story of course, had pieced enough parts of itherself, but she still felt compelled to ask even if she knew she never would.Not in her current state that is.

“I want youto recreate Jekyll’s serum.”

Thesentence hit Regina like a punch, her lungs emptying as she gasped, surprised. Yet,when she zeroed on Emma the blonde was looking at her with her jaw locked,tense but ready.

Loweringthe glass but never letting it go, it was Regina the one who scooted closerthis time, enough that she could see Emma’s neck muscles tense and thenrelease, her eyes darkening even more.

“You know Ican’t do it without him.” She began, still trying to put the pieces together. “I’ma potion brewer, but the serum wasn’t a potion, Emma.”

“Then Iwill ask Gold. He helped Jekyll, knowing him he could have stored the recipeaway.”

The wayEmma spoke, brusque, emphasizing each word rather than muttering it, madeRegina dizzy with the sudden image it created. Not of the Dark version of thewoman but one farther in time, one she had almost accepted as gone and buried. Theblonde’s green eyes, suddenly lighter, spoke of that and the blouse she worefelt even more like a cage than ever before, the collar tight but askew as Emmarun one hand through her hair.

“You askedmy help.” She finally said, and Regina was brought back to the docks, the wavesalmost swallowing Emma’s almost question but not the way she had looked at her;trusting her wholeheartedly even when Regina wasn’t able to. They were in themiddle of a conundrum after all; if nothing else came up she needed to be…

“I didn’task that so you could ask me to brew the serum! What would you do with it anyway?”

Emma’s lipscurled in a short, sharp smile, one that was almost as cruel as her darkercounterpart, or maybe just as bitter and Regina realized exactly what theblonde was thinking about.

This timeit wasn’t all that difficult to reach for anger, for indignation, as bothfeelings were mixed with utter worry.

“You wantto split yourself.”

The blondeshrugged and, rising, she started to pace, shoulders still hunched, still somethingthe younger self wouldn’t have done but her face just as full of righteousnessas Regina had one known her. When she spoke, her voice was filled with agitationand Regina could feel purple beginning to pile up at the edges of her own eyes,tinting everything in mauve and lilac light.

“You wereright, back at Robin’s apartment.” Flinching, Emma growled softly beforespeaking once again. “I was just at the brink, I didn’t fall like you did. ButI came close, very close.” Stopping her pacing, Emma turned brusquely, offeringher empty hands to Regina before taking them back, her skin alight in dirtywhite cracks. “You might not need the savior, Regina, but Storybrooke does.They are asking for it. And if things get complicated, really complicated…” Shehalted once more, her teeth trapping her bottom lip for a moment before shereleased it once more. “I don’t know if I will be able to do it. If I took theserum…”

Regina felther head reeling, the way Emma had said her name, the way she had been so sureRegina didn’t need the savior herself, telling enough. Anger still seeping, butstill never enough to light her skin like it had once done, she stood as welland walked to the blonde, movements never as quick as they had once been. Muted,once again.

She longedfor the anger, the ire. But she found herself tired as she eyed Emma’s face andshe almost took a step back as the blonde simply stood in the middle of a fartoo empty living room, lips not even stained with the wine she was able totaste on hers.

“How about a glass of the best apple cideryou've ever tasted?”.

The memoryflashed in front of her eyes, quick and blurry but her voice felt as if she wasshouting it at herself from some dark corner of her mind. Wincing at it, sheglared as Emma shrugged.

“I’m notgoing to let you die.” She spoke, and her voice hold such finality that Reginashivered at it. She had already shivered like that back at Camelot, as she pushedand prodded at a quickly dissolving Emma, back at the well. That time she hadbeen the one holding cards against her chest but now it was the blonde who waseyeing her like she felt ready to barrel through whatever emotional bunkerRegina was trying to hide away from and that made the brunette pause. Unsure. Meanwhile,Emma spoke once more. “But that’s not enough for the others, is it?”

Reginaparted her lips, ready to say that yes, it was, only to realize that no; itwasn’t. Snow had gone back to teaching, David was more focused on the fact Emmawas finally taking a step away from their shared apartment and Henry…

Henry wasfinally being a true teenager, Violet floating the outskirts of her mind justas she thought about it. All of them looked at Emma and saw a Hero. They lookedat her and saw the split. None of them were truly free from that and Reginaknew how that pressure could mount behind one’s eyes until it felt ready toimplode, destroying everything in the process.

“You don’tknow what the serum would do to you.” Her voice came out high-pitched, worried,and she hated that, hated the loss of the deep drawl, the one the Queen seeminglyhad also taken from her. The loss had been greater than what she hadanticipated. What would do that to Emma? What else would she loss? The questionparalyzed her just as the possibility of an answer and so she kept pressing on.“You can’t know how you will be divided. And that only if it works! It could meanyour own death if the serum isn’t made correctly, worse than cyanide.”

Emmashrugged at that, curt, sharp smirk back in place.

“Cyanide? Iknow it burns the tongue and tastes acrid."

This timeRegina felt flames lapping at her fingers, anger redirected, and she squeezedthe fireball out before focusing on Emma’s eyes, realizing belatedly that theblonde was eyeing the fire as well, something close to pride glimmering there, lightingthe green.

“I’m not joking.”She could feel her shoulders tense and she took yet another step. That’s howthey had always done this, she considered, this pull and push. She had missedit far too much.

“Neither Iam.” The blonde crossed her arms in front of her chest, fingers pressed tightlyagainst her forearms.

“Have youthought what your worse part could be?” As soon as the words were out of hermouth Regina realized the mistake. That was yet another thing neither of them hadthe energy to dwell on about. Not when Emma had virtually divided the darkness,storing it into him. The one who should be there but wasn’t, the bite onjealousy and anger flickering in and out of her. She was far too tired however,and far too drunk on this sudden burst of strength she had felt lacking thelast couple of weeks. And so, she pressed on, not registering truly she wasscreaming now. “Sounds like a solid plan; rather than having one major evil intown ask the second one to come back and play! I wonder what my other halfwould think of that. She would be delighted.”

“I don’tknow, you tell me!”

The screammade everything around them still, deafening silence following up Emma’soutburst and Regina swallowed, realizing her breath was hitched, her throat hoarsewhere she had risen her voice. Sighing, the blonde shrugged, the sudden burstof anger replaced by meekness. One Regina wanted to slap away, destroy it, turninto dust.

“I’m notyou, Regina.” The admission came almost unexpectedly, and the brunette blinkedowlishly at it, not sure what the sentence truly meant. Fortunately, Emma kepttalking. “But once upon a time you asked me to let you die as Regina, not asthe Queen. I’m not my title. I’m not. I can’t be. If this… doubt, is destroyedwith a split I’m sure you could talk with my other darker half. Storybrooke needsit. And you as well. I know you won’t fail, I know we will find a solution. Butnot with me like this.”

“And whatdo you need? What do you want?”

Thequestion escaped her before she was fully aware she had even thought about itbut Emma chortled at it, as if she had been waiting for it.

“That doesn’tmatter.”

But itmattered, Regina thought, it truly did because Emma could read her, yes, but socould she. And, maybe because of that, she let her hand, still laced withmagic, to raise and touch the blonde’s shoulder, rising, inch by inch, untilshe could almost cup the younger woman’s cheek.

“I won’t doit.”

Emmabristled but Regina stopped her before she could move away.

“You areright. I asked you that. I always divided her and I, I thought that’s how thisworked but after the split I’m starting to see that it wasn’t like this. You areyour own person, Emma. So was I.”

And, sheadded in her mind, she needed Emma, beautiful, gorgeous Emma. Not the washed-outversion, the one that had cut parts of herself in order to fit in boxes thatweren’t hers to even begin with. The blonde didn’t deserve that. She, as shealways did, deserved better.

But she wastoo much of a coward now to even say it out loud and so, she said nothing.

#swan queen #SwanQueen #prompt #Anonymous

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