#Joining new fandoms are scary

[rexecutioner]

What a beautiful group of friends I sure hope they don’t have a brutal falling out

Jesse, Lukas and Petra admin au is getting to me so I drew it (this is also my first mcsm art post lets hope I don’t fall into the spiral again)

yes Lukas dies 😁

(sorry i hate Xara’s admin design so I based Petra off of The End)

[idyllcy]

portal

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: smut, nsfw themes

Summary: For eternity past and eternity beyond, Tim would stay in your arms, even if you no longer remember him, even if you no longer care — he would chase you.

Tim doesn't necessarily remember the first time he met you.

Perhaps it had been when he first joined the tower under Dick's help to see you peering from behind his brother, arms wrapped around his arm, Dick's hand on your waist — or maybe it was when he caught you making out with Jason in an alleyway after patrol had ended. Or even, it could have been that time you sat on his father's lap without thinking twice to take over whatever he had been doing on the computer. Tim knew you as bad news. That's all he needed to know about you. He didn't want anything to do with you.

But despite all of it, Tim does remember the first time he met you.

He met you long before he had ever been Red Robin, before he had even considered taking the title of Robin, long before he had discovered Robin had been Dick Grayson. He had met you in his parents' backyard on a playdate while your families discussed business. He had met you under the comfort of the spring breeze, the sun of a splendid day, the greenest grass between your fingers and the warmth of the earth. He had met you with round cheeks and short legs, the two of you making dirt soup in the comfort of his garden. The two of you refused to taste it and watched as the water continued to sink into the grass each time.

"d'ya think we're drowning the plants." You blink, remembering something from your teacher.

"No way." He grumbles. "Not enough water to drown them."

Timothy Jackson Drake met you when he was five years old in his family's backyard.

As much as he denied the fact, he would not have traded it for anything else in the world.

You had been close, he admits. Holding hands as he showed you around the garden the next time you came over, helping you climb up into his treehouse, scribbling on the walls of your initials and his with a heart surrounding the two, mumbling hushed secrets that only five-year-olds could tell, giggling and laughing at each other in the small wooden room. But you scribbled other things. You scribbled animals and shapes and colors and designs and the whole universe on the blank canvases of white paper he would give you. Characters named after him, after his friends, after the stars. Everything you drew held a certain life to it, and Tim had been in love with it as much as a five-year-old could.

The two of you shared the kitchen counter as you raced each other to complete your math homework, years ahead of your own age group, head spinning as Tim tried to teach you long division at five, his own head spinning when you showed him how to do algebra. It's how it had been for so long, the kitchen island being the two of you's safe space away from school and the other pressures of socializing. Tim didn't have to smile at lying adults when he had you in his house.

But your friendship didn't stop there.

Children in their mother's arms, holding hands as your two families posed for a photo with the Flying Graysons. You had told Tim shyly that you found Richard Grayson attractive, flushed cheeks, as any five-year-old girl would have said. It was under your breath once away from the family. He looked back at the acrobat and then at you, striking you with a "he's too old for you" causing you to drop your jaw and smack him. It would have been a fight had your mother not stepped in immediately and had you apologize for hitting him. You did it with a pout on your lip, and Tim had blown a raspberry at you. You probably would have given him a middle finger if you knew how to do one.

The same held when the two of you watched the rope snap and the two adults fall to their deaths.

You let out a scream, trying desperately to reach at the falling acrobats, your mother holding onto you for dear life, begging you to not, chanting it over and over again like a mantra, true fear in her eyes, not from the deaths, but out of fear that you would do something. Tim's heart broke, but he didn't fail to notice the way you yelled at your mother immediately after the two families separated, arguing that the deaths were unnecessary and there was no way they would have died had you stepped in. Your mother hushed you instead, telling you to keep your mouth shut in public, and Tim wondered if there was something different about you.

Not that he would ever get to see you again.

Your mother had dropped by one afternoon, without you, three weeks after the show, a box of her cookies with her and an apology on her lips, letting his own mother know that the two of you were moving. Tim had watched from the couch, the documentary running in the back long tuned out, his face frowning. You were nowhere in sight. He'd never get to see you again. You didn't even come see him as a goodbye. Maybe you were still in a bad mood from the death. Yet, as more and more excuses conjured in his brain for you, he wondered why. It still hurt. You were his only friend. The frown was present on his face even when he went to bed.

His mother, later on, told him (one night while he was half asleep) that the two of you were running away, not moving. That it was dangerous for a mother and daughter to live alone in Gotham without spectacular wealth like him. That there was never any family fortune to begin with and that your mother nearly lost the custody battle. You didn't see him not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't able to. She had pressed a kiss to his forehead, not before letting him know that he would start boarding school soon. (He didn't want to go)

Tim never got to ask why.

Instead, the next time the two of you meet, the two of you are fourteen, and Tim's grapple has just been cut by someone. He wonders how far Batman is, and he wonders if he could just reach onto the brick wall next to him. He can't. So, he presses the button on his suit, alerting Batman. Maybe he'd be able to get him before he'd break his spine or something. He prays his line is still active. Hopefully Oracle had some way of helping him. Maybe even Nightwing would be able to swing in.

"Oracle-" His voice breaks, wind in his mic. "Where's the Bat? My grapple got cut. Criminal heading southeast on—"

"I'm on it." Another voice cuts in on the line, and he pauses as he lands on the ground gently, looking around him. He hears the sound of moving behind him, but he isn't able to see anything from the darkness. They blended in better than the bat himself. He fell from the twentieth floor and landed as if he had jumped off the first floor of an elementary school playground. The sound disappears just as quickly as if had appeared.

"We have an emergency support?"

Batman nods at him. "Portal."

"Who's Portal?"

"Not sure myself." He hands Robin a new grapple, and he nods. "Do not do that again."

"Yes, B."

So, as Tim steps back into the Batcave for the night, he finds himself clicking on the mic again. "Oracle?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know who Portal is?"

The end of the line is silent.

"No. Sorry."

"How'd we meet them?"

"They appeared one day," Oracle hums. "Nightwing had slipped on his footing and appeared back on the roof immediately as he had opened his mouth. Then it happened once with B, then with me, and a handful of times with Jason."

Tim nods. "Can I dig into them?"

"Without their knowledge." Oracle laughs. "Though hard. They're on the line right now, right?"

A third voice joins. "Mhm."

"Are you alright with it?"

Their voice is distorted. A voice changer. "You won't find anything on me."

"Is that a challenge?"

"It can be."

"If you find anything about me, you show me your face." Tim grins.

"And if you fail within a week, you'll stop trying to figure out who I am."

"Deal."

Tim finds himself cooped up in his room for the rest of the week, searching through voice files, body cam footage, anything that might give him a lead on you. He finds nothing. Just your voice. So, he tries putting the distorted voice through a filter for your voice and matching it to someone in the files. No one. Not even in the FBI database. Tim finishes patrol a week later, sighing into the lines. He found nothing. You won.

"So? Did you find anything?"

"No."

"Oh. I was hoping you could help me figure it out." The voice on the line goes silent.

"Huh?"

You don't speak on line ever again after that.

Tim pauses when he recalls you called him by first name. Not Robin. But it's strange. Unless you were some genius, there was no way you would have been able to— ah. It seems he's forgotten something important to him. Yet the name sticks in the back of his mind, not daring to let it tumble from past his lips after so many damned years of being apart. It'll be something he holds in himself until you would appear one day. He doesn't know. Maybe he'll never see you physically again. He doesn't understand why the longing, but he supposes it's what he deserves.

So, the two of you meet at fourteen and that was it. Tim triple-checks his equipment before leaving, upgrades after upgrades being made. He fears there will never be a need to call you ever again.

Except that isn't the end.

The next time Tim sees you, he gets to see you. The two of you are eighteen, and Tim is finally getting to meet you, put a name to your face. Your hands are around Dick's arm, peering at him, mask on your face as Tim stares straight at you, eyes digging into you, neither of you breaking eye contact as Dick had just finished reintroducing Tim to the team. You blink at him slowly, lashes fluttering, and Tim curses the way his heart skips a beat as you do. Then, Dick moves on to introduce you. You still don't move. Neither of you do.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?"

Tim's heart crawls up his throat at the nickname tumble from his brother's lips.

"Have I met him before?" You blink at Dick, doe-eyed. Tim feels weird at the look.

"Not during the time that you've been with us." He hums, letting you step out. "This is Portal. Our emergency contact."

"Oh." Tim finally puts two and two together, body moving on its own, rushing over to clasp his hand on top of yours, words tumbling out before he can think. "We've met before. We grew up together."

"Oh." You blink at him owlishly, and Tim's breath catches in his throat all over again. "I... don't remember. Sorry."

"Portal was found half dead on the ground when she was nine." Dick hums. "Retrograde amnesia."

Tim lets go, staring as your eyes linger on your hand for a little longer.

"Pleased to meet you." You smile at him, lips pulled into a gentle smile. He can't see your eyes behind the mask, so how much more different you must look now is left to his imagination. Not to mention the way it was hard to register you in general. Huh. Speaking of which, he can't really see you. Strange.

"You can't see Portal without the new masks." Dick tosses him another domino mask, an exact replica of his current one, and he puts it on, your presence flashing away and then back as he does. He pauses at the sight of you. No — He can't. He doesn't deserve to.

He really wonders, for a moment, if it was even possible to rekindle the friendship you had with him so many years ago. Maybe you would have preferred to forget.

"Red Robin's in charge while I'm gone." Dick drops something in your hand, the object passing through your hand and disappearing before he presses his lips to the corner of yours. "If you need me, ask Portal."

Tim stares at you, blinking slowly.

"Slept with the whole team before, huh?"

You raise a brow at him, expression dropping. "Really?"

"Why else would my brother kiss you?"

"So that equates to the whole team? I thought you were the smart Robin." You sigh.

"Does he know you're such a bitch?"

"Gee, and I thought we were hitting it off well." You deadpan. "No. I'm sleeping with your brother."

"Did you really forget everything?" Tim takes a step toward you.

"Yes." You sigh. "It's been nine years. I gave up on remembering."

"Yeah?" another step.

"Mhm." You tilt your head to stare at him.

"Do you remember your mom?"

"Died in the mugging."

"And your dad?"

"Out of the picture."

"And me?"

You look at Tim through your lashes as he stares at you, forehead now on yours, eyes falling to your lips. God, he could kiss you right now. It wouldn't be fair to either of you. He doesn't even think his own emotions are anything far from obsession over an old friend, but he's sure you're not just a friend to him because the things he would do to you if you would just let him. He's nothing short of obsessed. Shit. He's not supposed to be like this. His lips brush yours as your breath hitches, his own mirroring you. He likes you more than he could admit.

"Robin, was it?"

"Tim, for you." and he presses his lips to yours.

Tim wonders if among the tangled sheets and fingers, you could remember him. It's selfish of him, nipping at your bottom lip and pressing his skin to yours, mumbling memories across your skin, eyes gentle and soft despite the lack of romance between the two of you. It could be one-sided. It could take forever, even if he were asked. He would have waited for that long. He would have waited however long it took. Even if it took an eternity. He would have spent said eternity in your arms, reminding you of every moment if that's what it took.

But Tim returns to Gotham in a short while after that, the taste of your lips lingering on his, staring out at the city on rare peaceful nights, fingers pressed to his lips, still remembering you. On certain nights he finds himself sitting on the roofs, wondering if he called you, maybe you would come. Just a gentle cry for help to Oracle, and then you'd appear. He'd pull you to his lap, pressing his lips to yours until you'd get for him to touch you in some way, and then he'd tease you, getting you drunk off the same feeling he had when you were around him. He'd have you beg for him the same way he begged for you.

He wonders if you feel the same as him.

The next time Tim gets to see you, you're in an alleyway, Red Hood's arms on you, mask abandoned somewhere on the ground, domino mask still on. Tim watches. He has no reason to interfere. Your fingers are tangled in Jason's hair, his own hands flush on your waist, both of your lines turned off, presumably. He can't hear the two of you make out, and he's sure that Babs and the others wouldn't want to either. Your eyes are half-lidded, mouths messy against each other, and Tim reaches up to his mask, requesting Oracle to send his voice to you two's line and stares down. He has no reason to interfere, but maybe he wanted you for himself.

"Red, isn't it a little improper to be making out with someone during patrol?" His lips curl into a smirk as he finishes.

He watches as Jason pulls away, scowling at the sound of Tim's voice, and he watches as your eyes meet his, mouth shiny with your messed up lip gloss and a broken strand of saliva fresh on your lips. You disappear as fast as you reappear, pulling Tim from the edge, pressing your lips to his, the taste of Jason's last cigarette still fresh in your mouth, catching Tim off guard as you nip at his bottom lip, tongue pressing into his mouth. Tim collects himself just as quickly, a hand finding itself on your face while the other rested on your waist, leading you to a wall.

Your back presses against the brick as Tim's hand moves to your face, tilting your head to give himself more access to your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he stares at your closed eyes and pretty lashes. He brushes over your cheek gently, again and again until you lean further into him, chest pressed to his impossibly closer, moaning quietly as he moves a hand back to your hair, fingers digging into your scalp, pulling on the strands, still tilting your head so he could completely devour you. He grasps onto you harder, lips on yours, brain spinning with lust, drunk off of your lips, desperate to savor every last piece of you, desperate to smother you until you could remember who he was to you. To kiss you until the only thing you could think of in your day-to-day life was how good his lips felt against your own.

You pull away first, lack of air getting to you, Tim chasing your lips as you hold him at an arm's length away, head hung as you try to catch your breath, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, the mess of your chapstick even more evident. Tim glances down to see what he can of you, licking his lips to try and see if your lip gloss was flavored. cherry. He'd make a mess of you each time if it meant you would look so blissed out just from making out with him. Maybe you'd look even better from below, his head between your thighs, just like—

"Red Robin, where are you?"

"I'm with Portal." He answers as you finally straighten, collecting the mess of spit and lipgloss around your mouth, staring him dead in the eye as you lick it off your fingers, giving him a show.

"I bet you were making out with her, huh?" Jason's voice rings on the line, and Tim opens his mouth for a retort as you press your palm to his lips, leaning into where his mic was, smirk on your lips.

"And if he was?" Tim notices that your mic has been turned off, and he jumps in his skin as Dick's voice registers in his ear.

It's a shriek.

The sound adjusts itself in his ear so that it doesn't blow his eardrums, and he pauses, staring at the way you stared at him at the witches' hour, lips pulled into a gentle smile, the stars in your eyes, rendering Tim breathless. He steps back at you, hand brushing your hair out of your eyes, staring down at you, breath caught in his own throat. Oh, if only he could have you the way he wanted to. The way he wanted to wake up and press his face into your bare skin under the rays of the sun — the way where he would clutch you close under the kisses of the moon after patrol, his arms wrapped around you to thank you for the morning.

But he can't have you that way. Not yet.

You tilt your head at him as he exhales, pressing his forehead to yours again, resting his eyes for a moment.

"I can take you home." You blink at him.

"Please, Portal." Your name sounds like a prayer tumbling from his lips, one begging to have all of you. His hands don't move from your face.

You open a portal underneath his feet, sending the two of you to the Batcave, and you shake yourself free from his grasp, once again disappearing from his vision. He sighs, turning on his heel, getting ready to head upstairs.

"So, Portal?" He pauses in his stripping to stare at Dick. "No judgement, of course."

"What judgement is there? You've hooked up with her before."

"Once."

"She said you were hooking up."

"Oh, no. She was far too invested in something she lost for us to actually be something under a relationship." Dick throws Tim a towel.

"And Jason?"

"She was testing something." Jason grins, emerging from the showers. "She was right. Where's my phone?"

Dick tosses it to him.

"Owe her twenty."

"What was she betting on?"

The two share a glance and then stare at Tim.

"Do you know why you couldn't find anything on her when you tried so many years ago?"

"What does this-"

It clicks all of a sudden.

The next time Tim sees you, you hop onto Batman's lap like it's nothing, taking over the computer without asking him to move. He watches as your fingers fly over the keyboard and search bar, finding the files that Batman had thought he had trashed. You had a way for everything, even if it was no longer on the computer. He could do that, but watching you do it was so much more attractive. Especially when you were bent over the desk like that, ass in the air. He glances at his dad and the fact that he looks unbothered, still staring up at the big computer as you continue to type in lines of code to try and break through the lock.

"Who does this belong to again?"

"Red needs it for Penguin."

"Double R or Red?"

"Red."

"Ah!" You grin as the password is cracked, and you lick your lips as you step off of Batman, the man ruffling your hair as he clicks into the files to find the one Jason needed. Tim frowns. It's dad. It's a sign of fatherly affection. His own father isn't into you, yet he finds himself taking deep breaths to calm himself anyway, fingers reaching for yours, pressing them to his lips. He finds himself doing things he wouldn't for anyone else for you. Only for you. For the little girl who sat in a treehouse and drew characters out of cartoons — for the young woman in his arms in the tower, lips pressed to his in the dead of the night, body between his hands like a midnight's memory, one that would be gone with the wind.

You blink at him as you always have, owlishly, doe-eyed, questioning his intent with that faux innocence you showed the vast majority of the world. He lowers it, running his thumb over the back of your hand in circles, a thoughtless smile on his lips, fingers brushing over your ring finger unconsciously. If anyone notices, they don't mention anything, letting him bask in the moment of domesticity, even if it were fake and something out of a movie that the two of you did not live in. Even if the two of you did ever get to experience a moment like that, it would be far into the future, the day Gotham would be safer.

If that day ever did come.

"What would you do if the moon collapses on us all one day?"

You stare at him.

Tim opens his mouth to explain the question, only for you to cut him off.

"I would put Gotham on the runway."

Tim meets you again many years later. He receives a letter from you detailing Paris Fashion Week, inviting "Mr. Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne", which you added in invisible ink afterward, sounded like too much of a mouthful. Tim had always known to check your letters for it, so he wasn't surprised. He tells his assistant to email you a confirmation, that yes he would join you for the event. He stares at the spot reserved for him, pulling up the official list and checking whether or not he would be sitting next to you.

He's excited.

Not that he's never seen you draw or sketch since the treehouse, but he's excited to see what kind of fashion you're bringing to this world. On the plane, he's suddenly five again, scribbling images from his memories, the characters you had named after him, the characters you had named after your friends, every single critter, shapes still familiar on his fingers and the ballpoint pen he had thoroughly spent by the end of the flight. He realizes he forgot to sleep on the plane.

As if you had known, Tim is provided with a pillow and blanket on the car ride to your studio, just a little over an hour outside of Paris, giving him plenty of time to sleep in. He wakes up as the car stops, thanking the driver in French, though unfamiliar on his tongue. He wonders if you speak fluently. He assumes you must, given how you had told him you'd cover the languages he didn't.

The first thing he hears from your mouth is Chinese, voice still the same soothing honey he's grown to know, and you're talking to one of your assistants while telling another one in French to bring something. The only way he can tell is because you point at the closet and then at him. You finish with the first one, giving the French one a thumbs up when she brings out a suit as you reach for Tim's face, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw as you touch him.

"Hey." You smile.

"I'm here for my fitting."

"Mhm."

Tim finds that you look gorgeous no matter what you're doing. You help him into the outfit, the measurements both from his aide and from previously when you had taken his measurements before, and you exhale in relief as he fits. You click your tongue as an assistant hands you a paintbrush, and Tim's eyes widen in fear as you reach to start painting over his suit.

Your name feels foreign on his lips.

"Yeah?" You blink up at him. He's so much taller than you now that he's on the pedestal.

"Are you going to paint over the fabric?"

"That's the point, Tim," You part your lips. "Do you just want to wear white?"

"No, um."

"Do you have an idea on what you want?"

"Kind of?"

You let his aide hand you the sketches he had made on the plane, and you grin.

"Do you mind matching with me if you want these?"

"Oh, lovely." He swallows as he scans your face for a reaction. "You don't need to ask. It's always a yes."

"I'm glad you're not as bulky as Jason or Bruce." You hum, starting at his collar, the characters tumbling out of your hand like molten gold, as if you had been Rumplestiltskin, spinning straw into gold. But you wouldn't have been him, you would have been his fairy godmother, magic tumbling from your wand, granting all of his wishes without asking anything of him. He follows your face as you draw little characters all over his clothes, the little characters scattered throughout. You pull the pen off of him with a click, stepping back to look at the design. He wonders if you'll notice how he's more chiseled now, just for you.

"Have you been bodybuilding?"

"More exercise than before, yeah." He smiles at you.

You grin, lowering your voice. "You wanted me to notice. Just for me?"

"Just for you."

You blink at him in surprise. You weren't expecting him to actually affirm you. "Alright. We'll keep your suit overnight and in two days time, Christine," you motion at another aide, "will be helping you get ready with the makeup team."

"And you?" Taking your hand, he steps down from the pedestal.

"We will leave together." You press a kiss to his other jaw this time. "Hm?"

Tim lowers his voice, pulling you close to hold his lips to your ear. "and after?"

"If you're on your best behavior," You press a hand to his chest, pushing yourself back gently. "maybe I'll give you a treat."

Tim smiles. "Sounds good to me."

You wave bye at him as he returns to his hotel room, heart racing in his chest, the feeling of your hands still lingering on his face. And he was hopeless, as he always had been in the face of you. Only you could bring him to his knees to this degree, heart racing in his chest with an aching for you, desperate to have you. Any way. Have you in his arms, hands, lips on yours, skin pressed to yours — anything as long as it's you. anything. Anything as long as his fingers are entwined with yours and his skin is with you.

Two days pass in a blur, Tim lifting his face slightly as the makeup artist pats the foundation on his face, his eyes meeting your aide's as she explains (in perfect English) why he was wearing what he was, and how your designs were all channeling the true spirit of Gotham, from the deaths to the life to the children shielded constantly from nightmares that rested in their hands, including the ones left on the street to rot as a result of the corrupted justice system. There was everything in between there. Tim glances at some of the designs that you were showcasing, ready to watch the show.

He closes his eyes as the makeup artist starts drawing on his skin, the ceiling light reflecting off of his skin, the sound of your laughter as a child ringing in his ears as he stares at himself in the mirror. He looks clean and shaven, skin taken care of perfectly, almost as though he had never once scratched or hurt himself. The lack of scars on his hands and any part of skin showing was only further proof of it. Ah. So you were showing off your set, even until the end of time.

"You are the children of the elite."

He understands immediately.

That meant something else for you.

You meet him in the car, sitting on the inside, turning to glance at him. Your outfit is surprisingly clean for the children of the streets.

"We're quite the different tale, hm?" He smiles.

"You ever walked a runway?" You raise a brow at him.

"Once. I was very young back then."

"Great." You smile. "You'll be walking."

"Without a rehersal?"

"There will be a sized down one backstage as the other ones walk." You click on your tablet, showing him the formation, pressing a hand to his thigh as you lean over. "The two of us will be weaving through all the models. They all stop at a certain position."

"So it's like an art gallery."

"Almost. We're the last two to walk." You bat your lashes at him.

"Is that why you told me depending on my behavior?"

"You better break a sweat faking this, or else don't even think about getting a kiss later." You smile sweetly as the car stops. Tim steps out first, holding his hand out for you, and you follow him as the two of you walk down the carpet, waving at a couple of paparazzi, hand fit snugly on his forearm. Tim is sure to nod at the paparazzi as he passes, ignoring all of their questions. You stop him when the two of you need to take a photo, the same paparazzi smile he's seen you flash so many times as Portal on your face, and he flashes one of his own, practiced for the cameras, just like his father. He wonders if you invited anyone else.

The two of you head backstage as you change out of the outfit into another one, stepping outside to greet everyone with a bow, a word of thanks, and then tucking yourself back into the walls as the models start walking. You change back into the outfit you wore previously, three makeup artists decorating your face. Doodles straight out of the white paper left in his abandoned treehouse. Characters out of the ballpoint pen he wasted on the plane. He looks like the exact personification of the children of Gotham. Something innocent yet sinister about your entire outfit. You were the children on the street, stealing, grabbing, robbing, doing anything if it meant you could survive another day in the harsh winter and dried summers. It meant doing errands for mobsters that would lead to gold or death.

He finds it strange that you still look so pretty even with the graffiti of Gotham on your face.

He pauses at the pen in everyone's hands.

"Sharpie?"

"Eyeliner." You glance at the models as they walk out one by one, pulling your tablet out again, showing Tim how to weave through the models, pointing at the cameras as well, showing him the formation. "We meet at the end."

It's well thought out on your end. It may seem childish, but the route that boys and girls in Gotham took was still tragically different in all the worst ways, and you were desperate to show that. It was a fashion show in an art gallery, so you were going to make it an art show. Tim and you stand on both sides, hands pushing both of you out at the same time as the two of you weave through the models, and your pacing gets significantly fast, more frantic, brows furrowed, tugging at the jacket, desperate to cover more, heels clicking on the floor that you step on, eventually breaking into a full run as if something were chasing you. Tim walks, speeding up significantly less than you, gripping the knife in his hand, and the two of you eventually meet in the middle, you crashing into his chest as the two of you hold weapons to each other. You had picked up a gun along the way and he still had the knife in his hand.

The two of you stay still, pointing the weapons at each other — the crowd pausing.

You fire the gun at him.

The baggy clothes on the models all drop, revealing the rambunctious outfits only fit for nightlife for the Gotham elite, the splendid galas and parties at manors, the models all starting their walk again, Tim leading the men, you leading the women. You press your hand to his shoulder sweetly as you pass him, that smile on your face again. The show goes on, the actual outfits now on display instead of the streets of Gotham. No one bothers picking up the discarded clothes. The streets were dirty, and that would never change. You step behind the drapes as they move to wipe the makeup from you, changing you into your final outfit to step onto the stage once the models were all gone. You sit in place, Tim standing to the side, watching as the eyeliner is removed.You can feel his eyes trailed on your skin. You wonder what he's thinking.

You step up as all the models return, the show wrapping up as you show yourself at the end again, thanking everyone for joining you. Tim finds the smile on your face to be still fake, nothing like the one he's grown used to, yet he finds some sort of honesty behind it. You look dazzling under the lights. The city of Gotham is apparent all over you and the models you had hired, all of them out of the city itself. Even as none of the trashed clothes are taken care of on the runway until everyone leaves. He wonders if Bruce would have liked this show, had he been invited. He's sure you extended an invite to him. Yet it doesn't matter. Tim had been the one to be with you.

"Is there an afterparty?" He presses his hand to your lower back, backstage, getting ready to leave. The lights have dimmed by now.

"Yeah." You yawn, blinking slowly. "I'm not going."

"Really?" He tilts his head at you.

You press a kiss to his nose, hand tracing his jaw. "I said I'd reward you if you were good."

"Was I?"

"The best." You smile at him saccharinely and Tim wants nothing but to have you.

Tim finds that you haven't changed much since the last time he had his hands on you.

Your skin is still soft in his hand, the plush of your thigh familiar as he kisses you feverishly, tongue shoved so far down your throat he's sure he'd go straight to hell just for the kiss. He finds himself tugging at the zipper of your dress, hands sliding it down your waist as you whimper at the cold without the fabric, the silk pooling at your feet. He leads you out of the dress, lifting your thigh to help you out, mumbling for you to jump against your lips, your legs wrapping around his waist as he continued at your lips, sex pressing in the air.

"Pretty, pretty girl," He groans as you loosen the tie around his neck, pulling it over his head as you slide the buttons out quickly, pressing your lips to his neck and biting. Tim relaxes in your touch, letting your fingers roam his skin as you peel the dress shirt off of him, lips red on his skin, sucking and biting at it, Tim moaning as you do. He glances at the way your teeth dig into his pecs, marks visible as you pull away, glancing at your artwork on his skin.

"My turn," He mumbles against your skin, holding your head gently tilting it to get access to your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point, lips wrapping around it, sucking hickeys over your neck and collar, the red bound to turn purple sometime overnight, the thought sending blood straight to Tim's head, his lashes fluttering against your skin. You bite back your moans as Tim continues his ministrations, head spinning with all the things he could do to you at the moment. He's waited so long to have you again.

Instead, he finds himself on his knees for you, lips pressed to your cunt, nose bumping your clit as he eats you out, fingers digging into the plush of your thigh, drinking in every sound that slipped past your lips as his fingers curled into you the way he knew you liked it, your body reacting the same as so many years ago. Your fingers tug at his hair, the gel long washed off in the shower, his makeup removed as soon as the two of you had arrived back at the hotel. His name spills out of your lips like a mantra, begging him to let you cum, legs shaking with you pressed against the wall. He will admit. He might've gotten a little impatient.

"Tim, Tim," You whimper. "'m close."

He hums, tongue in your pussy, the vibrations drumming against your clit, and he moves another hand to circle at your clit, fingers and tongue speeding up, making you cum with a broken cry and tightening of your fingers in his hair, his tongue never stopping lapping at your cum, hands moving back to hold your legs apart for him to finish with you, only leaving position once he was sure there was none left, your slick messy on his nose and chin as he used his fingers to wipe it off, staring you in the eye as he licked it off of his hand.

"God," You mumble, pressing him onto the bed, pulling his belt off in a swift motion with his pants, hands reaching for the rest of your cum on his face and spitting into it, using it as lube, running your hand up and down Tim's length, eyes glued to it as you press down the slit to collect his precum, the erection angry with red, making you swallow. You lift yourself gently, bottoming him out in one swift motion, a moan and a choke breaking out past your lips as you do, digging your chin into Tim's shoulder. His hands trace gentle circles on your waist, lifting you with ease to put you underneath him, lacing his fingers with yours, thrusting slowly.

"Fuck me like you mean it, Drake." You hiss at him. He didn't have any intent to speed up.

The use of his last name as Tim irritated, hips snapping into yours, instantly much more talkative than before. "Drake? Really? After all of this time," His grip on your hand tightens, lowering his lips to your ear, his breaths against your ear, "I shouldn't be Drake to you. It's Tim," He snaps his hips again, causing you to curl forward, "and I'll make sure you know that's what you should be screaming." He leans back up, hand pressed next to you, plowing into you, mess of slick, sweat and cum staining silk sheets, your other hand gripping said sheets to the point of your knuckles turning white, toes curling. "Now scream my name, pretty girl."

You hadn't known he was capable of this, but you follow his orders, his name breaking past your lips with each thrust, mindless blabbering slipping down your tongue onto his, even when he swoops down to kiss you, tongue in your mouth, giving you a taste of what was left of yourself on his tongue. The sex in the air hangs hard as Tim continues drilling into you, both hands moved to your hips this time, helping himself control the rhythm better, eyes zeroed in on your face as your eyes threaten to flutter shut from him, eyes rolled to the back as he moves a hand down.

"'m close- 'm close!" You cry.

"Yeah? Come on, pretty girl." His thumb finds itself on your clit again, smirking at the way you clench around him. "Cum for me. Tell everyone who's making you feel so good."

You cry his name as you arch your back, tears staining your cheeks and lips bruised from the kissing, spit visible on the corner of your lips, begging for him to slow down as he chases his own orgasm, Tim zoning you out, thumb still on your clit, desperate for his own release. You claw at his hand as you feel another orgasm threatening to break past, Tim holding both hands down with the other as he feels your walls flutter around him again, squeezing him as you cum again, messier this time, squirting all over his hips as he feels his own orgasm coming. He opts to pull out, only for you to wrap your arms around his neck, begging for him to fill you. "'m yours, please, Tim." You moan into his ear.

Tim spills into you with a stutter of his hips, biting on your shoulder as he does, warmth flooding your cunt as you exhale in bliss. The sheets are ruined and you're sure the hotel is going to fine you, but it isn't an issue. Not if the workers don't rat on you. You let go of Tim as he pulls out of you, pressing gentle kisses to your skin, eyes tired.

"Not enough sleep?"

"Surprised I fucked you without accidentally passing out." He smiles against your skin.

"We need to shower again." You grimace. "We're going to be all disgusting in the morning."

Tim rests his head on your chest, eyes closing. "Love?"

"Yeah?"

"Go out with me?"

"About time."

"Yeah?"

"Of course," You press a kiss to his hair. "For you? Always."

And as the moon and stars whisper to each other of the two of you, limbs tangled together, kisses from the moonlight fresh on both of you's skins as you sit in the bathtub together, helping each other wash off, thoughtless giggles on both of your minds and mindless kisses pressed on each other's skin as you rinse each other off, you both find something back in your life you both missed. The warmth of each other's skin and arms wrapped around each other, just as you had done as kids, you do now, a reminder of the love you've both shared. Tim finds that you don't need to remember him. You just needed to love him.

And love him you do.

[rainswept]

my toxic trait is that i expect bsd fans to just Sense my Presence and seek me out when in reality i have not made a single post on the tags (<- is afraid to reach out to people)

[lavndvrr]

Im interested in the marauders fandom and I’m just dipping my toes in but I’m not sure where to start. I’m listening to the pod fic version of “All The Young Dudes” because I heard from somewhere that I should read it first but it other than that I have no idea what’s going on

[comvi]

I always have to remind myself that I don’t need to push myself to make art, and I don’t need to apologize or feel bad for not making a lot of art. art is something that should make me feel happy, so if I’m pushing myself to the point of not enjoying it anymore, then I should just stop and calm down for a second. and take some time for myself. Art won’t disappear, it will always be there waiting for me again, its okay for me to take some time doing others things sometimes.

[na-klar]

hi hey hello idk if anyone still follows this blog but if you’re reading this i hope you’re having a great day and that you know that you matter

[netscapenavigaytor]

hmmph... people in jet set radio tag talking abot leak stuff and wiki vandalism. when every body should be talking about. ME AND MY FRIENDS MAEKING EDGY BRAINWEIRD BULLSHIT . (joke) (nobody would even know about this properly outside of discord) (just wanted to make a post because my brain is full of many thoughts) (jet set radio fans dm me if you want my bad yoyo opinions) (there is a lot of that. and other dubious opinions too)

[foxyk7]

Why did I called Murder Drones an "week obsession".......

[skrimblo]

just logged in tumblr and what the heck.. 1k notes... honestly posting this made me feel like a chef presenting their new dish as people judge what i have created 😭😭😭

i finished LoVM in one sitting and now im finally trying to catch up with campaign 1 and this was also the first thing i thought of when i saw orthax

[namedcruel]

🥀 positivity anon: welcome to the fandom 🤍

😭😭😭😭   friend   ,   i’m   gonna   ugly   cry   !   this   is   so   kind.   thank   you   so   much   ???  

[bandsanitizer]

idk if anyone else has ever mentioned and maybe no one will for various reasons but anyone else feel like there’s certain things they learned from being in the one direction fandom (particularly as first introduction of sorts into online fandom/bandom) that you find incredibly difficult to unlearn? for me it’s equating random fact knowledge on the band & members with validity as a fan. and by no means do I hold anyone else to the standard, but I feel like there’s a certain level of insecurity? developed related to being a fan after the whole “carrots? kevin? those are such old jokes! you must be a new fan/a directionator” bc on the outside in I can acknowledge that it’s a stupid af requirement for being a fan of a musical artist to have to know their time of birth, blood type, and names of all their siblings. but if you were exposed to that mindset in fandom for YEARS it’s hard to not hold on to it? it’s hard not to hold on to the anxiety of becoming a new fan of a group that’s been around for years, especially in approaching older (been a fan of longer) fans… even if said fans introduced it to you in the first place. perhaps it’s just a wistful thought for fandom to always feel as fun as it sometimes does. maybe it’s blind to not see the seniority complex throughout all fandom. idk. just some thoughts. some theories. some bandsanitizing if you will.

[chaos-bites]

🔥 Subtle Loki Worship 🐎

Sitting around a bonfire or campfire, especially with loved ones

Being kind to children; playing with them if offered

Supporting organizations focused on marginalized groups; spreading the word, donating, volunteering, etc.

Supporting organizations focused on children and children's safety

Volunteering at a homeless shelter or an animal shelter

Teaching yourself that it's ok to ask for help, even if you don't receive it at first

Seeking out a community you can join; this will help with creating a support system as well; LGBTQ+ support groups, gamer groups, fandom groups, etc.

Having horse, snake, raven, or wolf imagery around; having skull imagery is also cool, but may not be acceptable in all households

Engaging with your childhood media or toys

Having literally any stuffed animals

Keeping a list of jokes and quotes that make you laugh

Supporting animal conservation efforts

Learning to accept yourself for who you are; embracing unique aspects of your identity, especially those that are looked down upon by others

Showing support for marginalized groups, such as being an LGBTQ+ ally or purchasing from POC small business owners

Identifying your strengths and weaknesses; finding healthy ways to acknowledge them both

Learning new ways of coping with emotional turmoil, including mental illness related situations

Listening to scary stories

Having a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)

Collecting lost or interesting objects (so long as it's not reclaimed first lol)

Being a little mischievous/silly with loved ones

Finding little ways to express yourself if you can't do so openly (e.g. wearing a bracelet with the colors of your gender identity, wearing shoelaces with pride flag colors that aren't easily recognizable, etc.)

Being kind to yourself when you're having a difficult time

Learning to forgive yourself for past mistakes you've made

Sleeping with comfy blankets

Drinking hot chocolate

Eating candies and sweets or spicy foods

-

May add more later! So far, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Loki. Hope this helps, and take care, y'all! ❤️

Link to my Subtle Worship Master list

[delightfullyquirkydoodles]

Okay, buckle up, friends and neighbours, because it's time for:

THE DOOPLISS DISSERTATION

(Obviously, you should take all of this with a HUGE chunk of salt, since I'm not only an internet-poisoned fandom blogger, but also a former English major with a penchant for over-reading.

Still, I spent a long time writing this, so I'd appreciate it if you gave it a read.)

So before we talk about Doopliss himself, I feel like we should talk about Creepy Steeple, since a lot of the topics I'm going to be touching on relate to the actual building.

Neither the original Gamecube version nor the Switch remake really bothers to explain what Creepy Steeple actually is.

None of Goombella's tattles say anything about the building's intended purpose. The name vaguely implies that it's a church of some kind -- in Japanese, it's called Odoron Jiin, or "Astonishing Temple" -- but that's still not very helpful.

Still, for the purposes of this analysis, I'm going to assume that it's meant to be a church.

This brings me to the Steeple's stained glass window, which shows a scary-looking Doopliss standing over some piranha plants.

From a design standpoint, I'm guessing that this detail was added to give the location a spooky vibe, but from an in-universe perspective, the implications are wild.

Like, who designed this? How long ago? And why? What the heck is it supposed to represent?

Unsurprisingly, the game offers no real answers, but I have a couple of theories.

The first is that the people of Twilight Town (or their ancestors, or something) created the window in Doopliss's honor.

Stained glass windows often depict saints or angels, so maybe the Twilighters used to worship him? Like, maybe Creepy Steeple was once dedicated to him and then, for whatever reason, the worshippers decided to leave?

It's not super likely, but I didn't want to rule out any possibilities. This is a weird freaking temple. Literally anything is possible, as far as I'm concerned.

My second theory is that Doopliss designed the window himself. He seems like a guy with a lot of spare time, so it's not too much of a stretch to say that he came up with the idea and then spent weeks building it by hand.

He could have also bullied the Boos into constructing it for him. I dunno. I just have this mental image of him pulling pranks on them and generally being a nuisance until they caved.

The bottom line is someone wanted to Doopliss's face to be front and center. And if that someone is Doopliss himself, then hoo boy, there is a lot to unpack here.

Maybe I'm projecting, but it feels like Doopliss is wrestling with some major self-esteem issues.

Despite being an incredibly powerful shapeshifter who somehow cursed an entire town, he seems very childish. He spends all his time watching TV and coming up with new jokes. He throws tantrums when he loses. He wears a party hat, of all things.

Based on that, I'd say that he's probably starved for attention. He's probably pretty lonely living in Creepy Steeple all by himself (doubly so if my theory about the Twilighters is correct).

I'd even go so far as to say that his scheme to turn the Twilighters into pigs is motivated by this need for attention. I mean, what better way to get people to notice you than to cause a town-wide panic?

I feel like the disguises he uses over the course of the main story also support this theory.

Though Mario, Zip Toad and Professor Frankly are quite different from one another, they all have one important thing in common: they're famous. Mario's a world-renowned adventurer, Zip Toad is a well-known actor and Frankly is a tenured professor whose students love him.

Doopliss even alludes to this after stealing Mario's body, telling him, "You're so popular around here! I just love being you!"

By transforming into beloved figures, Doopliss can get the attention he craves.

I also think that this is why he joined the Shadow Sirens. Sure, Beldam abuses him almost as badly as she abused Vivian, but at least she notices him. That's better than nothing.

The most conclusive piece of textual evidence is found in the epilogue. In her letter to Mario, Goombella explains that Doopliss has joined Flurrie on-stage in her production of "Paper Mario".

Obviously his shapeshifting abilities make the play a lot more realistic, but why would he bother participating in it at all? This guy was a villain for most of the game. Why would he suddenly decide to join up with one of his enemies?

Because, as far as I can tell, he's not a villain. Just a guy who's sick of being ignored.

I dunno. Doopliss's motivations have never been super clear, but I feel like there's more to him than meets the eye.

If you have any thoughts or ideas of your own, feel free to comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

[hawkeish]

really hoping that the DA fandom doesn’t seem intimidating to anyone new - joining or being on the fringes of a huge and well-established community can be scary as fuck

sending a small and gentle pat on the head to anyone newer to the series

[autumnscribbles]

lost | c.b

summary: you convince colby to finally let you join an adventure, but what was supposed to be a fun night takes a wrong turn.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none really? 

a/n: my first colby imagine!!! i absolutely loved writing this and getting back into the fandom so i hope y’all like it! feel free to send more requests :) it ended up being pretty long and probably not my best work but it was so fun anyway!! hope you enjoy lemme know! 

                                                           ~

“Pleeeeease can I come babe?” you begged, pouting as you stood in front of Colby as he was packing his camping equipment.

“Y/n I really don’t want anything to happen to you,” he sighed. “It could be dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine!” you reassured him. “I’ve gone camping lots of times, plus I’ll be with the pros.”

“Yeah man, let her come!” Sam piped up from behind you. You turned around and grinned at him, knowing that he would be on your side.

“Fine,” Colby sighed, planting a kiss on the tip of your nose. “Only because I can’t say no to that face.”

-

You felt a mix of nervousness and excitement as Colby pulled over the car, ready to go set up your camp site. It was also your first time in a Sam and Colby video, and you were excited to have this new experience documented so well.

You guys all began pulling the camping equipment out of the trunk. Thankfully, it was still light outside so you weren’t feeling too spooked yet. You had never had a paranormal encounter yourself but after being with Colby for so long, you couldn’t quite say you didn’t believe in it. You felt yourself feeling jumpy at every small sound, and the boys found it quite amusing.

“Guys, as you can see, Y/n is not used to being in haunted forests,” Sam laughed, pointing the camera at you. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you laughed. “Once I get into the swing of things I’m gonna be tougher than all of you.”

The boys laughed as you began to walk down the narrow path to try and find a good place to set up camp. The boys pointed out a nice area and you all began setting up the tents. You had to admit, you weren’t the best at it, so the boys did most of the work. Once they had set the tents up, you crawled into yours and placed down the sleeping bags, pillows, and backpacks you brought.

“Are you sure you don’t want to all sleep in the same tent, Sam?” you asked.

“Depends how scared I get,” he chuckled. “But if you hear me crawling into your tent in the middle of the night, you’ll know why.”

Once you had set up camp, you guys decided to explore the forest a little. It was starting to get dark, and you felt the eeriness hovering around you. You jumped slightly as you heard a low, growling noise.

“Did you hear that?” you asked, eyes widening.

“Yeah,” Colby chuckled nervously. “Was that an animal or a person?”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you laughed. “Let’s keep going, didn’t you guys say there’s a cabin in these woods somewhere?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure where it is relative to where we’re standing now though,” Sam replied, looking around as if that would give him a clue.

You walked around the forest for a while, but decided you’d save searching for the cabin another day since you currently didn’t know where it was and it was getting dark. Eventually, you made your way back to the tents and decided to take it easy the rest of the night.

You lay in the tent, Colby’s arm wrapped around you, your hood pulled up over your head to keep warm.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Not too scared?”

“I’m fine,” you smiled. “It hasn’t been too scary yet minus a few weird noises we’ve heard while walking around.”

“We’ll keep you safe,” he smiled, pressing his lips to yours gently. “Try to get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow.”

You nodded as you curled into him, trying to warm up. The nights felt very cold in the tent, but luckily for you Colby was a great heater when you were cold. You tried not to focus too hard on every little sound around you, and eventually dozed off.

You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. You jumped slightly, rummaging for it beside you. By the time you found it, the ringing stopped. It was probably nothing. As you tried to go back to sleep, you felt like you needed to pee. You sighed, pulling your shoes on to leave the tent. You felt nervous, and debated waking Colby up, but decided against it. You weren’t going to go far, and it would only take a minute.

You unzipped the tent quietly, walking off just past the tents to go to the bathroom, when you heard a sound beside you. You looked over, not seeing anything in the pitch black. You heard a whisper, and approaching sounds of leaves and branches cracking. You tried to call for Colby, but your voice was only a whisper. When you felt something graze your arm, you took off running. You didn’t have time to scream, or call for Colby or Sam, your instincts told you to just run as fast as you possibly can.

You were out of breath and finally slowed down, but now you had absolutely no idea where you were. Your adrenaline was so high, that you didn’t even take a mental note of how to get back to the camp site. You pulled out your phone, turning the flashlight on to hopefully find the main path again. You felt terrified. You jumped at every small noise, scared that whatever touched you would come back. You started to wonder if there was anything at all, or if your fear made things up. You felt a tear slide down your cheek, feeling stupid. Why didn’t you just wake up Colby? Why didn’t you scream instead of taking off? What if you never got back?

You tried screaming their names, but you had no idea how far you were. If they could even hear you, especially if they were asleep. Your phone didn’t have service now, despite the strange phone call from earlier. You wanted to be strong, so you started walking, hoping to god you weren’t going even further from the boys.

-

Colby jolted awake, unsure what it was that stirred him from his surprisingly peaceful sleep. When he reached over to cuddle you, he was met with nothing but your empty sleeping bag.

“Y/n?” he whispered.

He put on his shoes and got out of the sleeping bag, hoping he’d find you nearby. When he didn’t see you, his heart began racing, his breathing quickening.

“Sam?” he called, running over to his tent and beginning to unzip it.

“What’s going on?” Sam mumbled, still half asleep.

“Y/n’s gone,” Colby said, the back of his throat stinging with the sobs threatening to escape him.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Same asked, suddenly completely awake and alert, grabbing his flashlight and turning it on.

“I-I don’t know. I woke up and she wasn’t beside me and she’s gone,” Colby rambled. “We need to find her.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sam whispered. “We’ll find her. Let’s get some of your stuff and we’ll try to follow the path.”

They began screaming your name as loud as they could, hoping you could hear them and weren’t too far. They didn’t care about anything haunted anymore, all they cared about was finding you.

“Dude what if we don’t find her?” Colby asked, beginning to panic. “I can’t let anything happen to her.”

“We’re going to find her,” Sam said confidently. “We just need to keep looking, she couldn’t have gone too far I don’t think.”

-

Your pace began slowing, the exhaustion taking over you. You hadn’t made any progress from the looks of it. You were starting to give up. You were dehydrated, cold, and pure exhausted.

You fell to your knees, putting your head in your hands as you sobbed.

“Colby!!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. “Please!”

Your wails turned silent, utter defeat consuming your body. There was no way you could find your way back in the dark like this. Your extreme and utter panic had faded. Your adrenaline had depleted, and you felt your eyes fluttering shut as you rested your head on the cold, damp, floor.

-

“Colby!!!” a faint scream said in the distance.

“That was her!” Colby screamed. “Y/n!!!! I’m coming!!!”

The boys began running towards where they heard the sound. It was faint, but they heard it. They must have been somewhat going in the right direction.

They continued calling your name, Colby wiping tears from his face as he continued to move forward. He couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t. Not until he knew you were safe.

After what felt like hours of walking, Sam came to a halt. 

“Colby...” he whispered, his flashlight aimed towards a form on the ground. It looked like a human...it looked like you.

“Y/n!” Colby screamed, sprinting over to you and shaking you. The worst case scenario briefly flitted through his mind as he waited for you to open your eyes.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting Colby’s in the glow of the flashlight. It instantly woke you up again.

“COLBY!” you screamed, jumping up and wrapping your arms around him, instantly breaking into sobs.

“Oh my god, you’re okay,” he cried as he held you as tight as he ever had. 

“You found me,” you whispered. “I thought I was going to die out here.”

“Of course I found you,” he said, stroking the back of your head. “What happened? How did you get so far?”

“I-I got up to pee and I heard something. Then I felt something touch me and I just started running. I didn’t even think,” you explained, tears streaming down your face. “I was so scared, Colby.”

“You’re okay, baby,” he whispered as he rubbed your back. Sam sat next to you, wrapping his arms around you, too.

You felt so grateful for both of them. They didn’t give up on you when you gave up on yourself. You felt overwhelmed by love not only for Colby, but for Sam too.

“I think we should go home,” Colby said. “We can come back another time.”

“No!” you exclaimed. “This was supposed to be a fun adventure, let’s not ruin it because of this. I’m fine, really.”

“Babe, I don’t think we should-,” he started.

“Really, Colby,” you smiled, placing your hand on his cheek. “Let’s make this the most epic adventure ever.”

“Okay,” Colby agreed. “But promise you’ll wake me up if you have to leave the tent for anything, okay?”

“Promise,” you smiled, kissing him gently.

The three of you walked back to the campsite, hand in hand, finally feeling calm. You had the scare of your life, but you were happy to be back and safe with the boys. Sam decided to sleep in your tent, which made you laugh because you knew it would happen eventually.

Tomorrow was a new day, and what was a ghost hunting adventure without fearing for your life? You thought sarcastically.

You lied down between the two boys, pulling the sleeping bag up to your chin.

“I’m happy to be here with you,” you said. “Even though in that moment I wanted to be anywhere else.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, girl,” Colby chuckled, pulling you closer to him.

He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight from now on, and you couldn’t be happier or feel more safe.

[bingusbongu]

I saw your post of villanious and I smile bc there's barley any content 😔. Of you have time can you write about how would Dr Flug act around black hats apprentice (like they been raised and taught by black hat to the point they could be considered black hats kid/grandchild) Because he is secretly in love with them?

♡A/N: dawww ty!!!! Villainous has been one of my favorite fandoms like ever- and i enjoy writing for these sillies!!!! There is hardly any Villainous writers rn, and im here ti fill in that place!!!!! Besides, i love writing for my favorite nerd<3333 hope you enjoy~!!!♡

Dr. Flug × Blackhats apprentice reader!

▪︎ he didnt believe it for one second! Blackhat, with an apprentice? Absurd! That was highly unlikely! It made the doctor laugh out loud at the thought. Blackhat would hardly have time or the patience to take in some random villain under his wing

▪︎ until he met you

▪︎ when Blackhat called the team for a meeting in his office, he surely expected it to be another mission. He was not optimistic about it

▪︎ instead, to his suprise, Blackhat mentioned a new member joining the team. Flug could hardly believe it! But what caught him off gaurd was how fondly Blackhat talked off this person, as if this was someone he had knew. And with that, Flug expected the worse. Blackhat hardly had time for friends, and if it was atleast an alley, then they had ro be strong, scary, and murderous like his boss was.

▪︎ you can say for sure he was caught off gaurd when you were introduced. You looked.. normal, like.. a person. And Blackhat let you stand near him, and the demon himself spoke fondly about your abilities, almost proudly. This spiked the doctors curiosity

▪︎ Bkackhat decided that you would join the trio on one of their next missions. 505 was ecstatic to have a friend, and Demencia could care less about another member. Flug though? This poor man was petrified. Was this a test???? Would you be observing them and reporting their work back to Blackhat?? Did Blackhat not trust them enough to do their jobs properly???? These questions sent the doctor spiraling

▪︎ when the time comes for the mission, Dr. Flug was nervous as all hell. Deciding he was going to go out of his way to impress you! If you were here to test them, then he sure was going to do his best!

▪︎ he ended up getting so nervous he nearly crashed the hat plane because he wasnt paying attention

▪︎ he was distracted! He was tring his best to observe you and understand you. You were hardly even seemed like a threat. For instance, you pet 505 willingly! Thats something no villain, let alone a favor of Blackhats would even come close to doing

▪︎ you just seemed... normal to him. What was so special about you?

▪︎ until he was in trouble

▪︎ he was pinned, unsure what to do. His plan didnt go out well at all, and he was doomed for absolute failure

▪︎ he expected to be beaten by this hero, he waited for the pain but... it never happened

▪︎ Instead, he found you where the hero would be, effortlessly throwing the hero off of Flug, and throwing him into the nearby wall without any struggle. A fierce look behind those eyes, as you snarled at the hero. Before you turned your attention back to Flug, and offered him a hand up

▪︎ he was stunned

▪︎ Maybe he understood why Blackhat was fond of you, after watching you easily ground a hero before his own eyes, he was in awe

▪︎ afterwords, on the way back from the mission, Flug nervously thanked you, and you just smiled and told him it was no trouble

▪︎ Flug and you got talking, the doctor ended up learning about you and Blackhats backstory. He hardly believed it at first, but then again, he couldnt ask Blackhat about it, that was a death sentence.

▪︎ you two ended up getting along!

▪︎ Flug was still equally terrified of you, getting extreamly nervous in your presence

▪︎ He had to do some research, because he didnt fully believe your story, observing yours and Blackhats interactions. He seemed to value your opinion abit more than he did witg the rest of the crew, but he also pointed out each flaw in your work. Not like he woukd do with Flug in disappointment, but like he was teaching you

▪︎ Flug was ultimately confused, but he decided not to dig into it anymore, just incase something bad would happen of he found out to much

▪︎ he wa just confused on how you werent so hostile abd scary like Blackhat was, and alas, he would never know

▪︎ you got to come along on missions with the trio! And to Flugs suprise, you worked really well with his plans. You two even made a good team together! Undoubtedly, the first person to actually follow along with his plans, and that was enough to make him value you alot more.

▪︎ you two didn't really spend to much time together. He was usually busy in his lab, or you were busy following Blackhat around as he taught you things

▪︎ though, occasionally, you would have free time, and come and visit Flug down in his lab!

▪︎ he was suprised at first, but he hardly minded, after all you didn't touch anything, and you were more curious about asking him of his projects, which he was happy to explain to you

▪︎ he liked when you came down to visit him, although it wasnt constant, he enjoyed your company, and your curiosity of his projects, he liked talking to you. It was always so quiet down in his lab, he usually talked to his robots or to 505, it was nice to have a an actual back and forth conversation

▪︎ when he first noticed his likness to you, it was when you were helping Blackhat with his work, and spotted Flug out thd corner of your eye. And you stopped to wave at him!

▪︎ you actually stopped your work, just ro acknowledged him.. for some reason, that made his head spin

▪︎ once he realized he liked you, he desperately tried to push his feelings away. He was confident that it would never work, after all, Blackhat would forbid it , or turn him into a pretzel if he found out that one of his workers grew a fondness for his apprentice

▪︎ But, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't deny it. Especially during missions, when you taunted the heros and maniacally rip them to shreds, it makes his heart skip.

▪︎ or the way you punished heros???? He is smitten

▪︎ Demencia definitely noticed the hopelessly lovesick look on Flugs face abd teased him about it

▪︎ he just, couldnt help it! No matter how much he tries to bury you out of his mind, the moment where you saved him from that hero lingered in his mind. And it made him sigh each time the memory would replay in his head, just the way you looked at him was enough to make him swoon

▪︎ He had to face the fact

▪︎ that he was hopelessly in love with what he believes could never be, no matter how much he longs for it

▪︎ Little does he know... an apprentice who struggles with their hopeless love<3