#brotherly mug

[frankiecatphotography]

Brotherly Love 20 oz Ceramic Mega Mug - On SALE!!

[how-the-feathers-have-fallen]

Dumping the start of the tags here cause tumblr has a tag limit of 30 :/ sorry op

Okay hold on

also more things I couldn't fit in. after cuddy bails out choreman chase gets assigned a bunch of clinic hours as Punishment TM. But mom-dad wilson (house is dad-mom) keeps him company till house gets angsty and comes to bail him out pick him up.

More I couldn't fit in at the end so I dumped here outta order:

wilson teahces the ducklings to paint since obvi house passed down his musical talents

rich kid chase got assigned clarinet at age 6. he's ok but has 0 heart. house jokingly points him towards a lyre in a music shop and he takes to it instantly. house go to tease him (baby angel lookin-) but chase looks so overjoyed and he says something like "look just like David played for Saul" so he melts on the spot (and convinces wilson to by him a kinnor so he doesn't know its his idea. he sings like a screeching alterboy tho)

I think cameron can sing but she's quiet and stumbles so she refuses to get formal training. she's tear rendering on a cello tho. surprisingly she can dj like all hell too. she had a wild college life before her 1st husband

foreman can sing smooth as silk. but he can't play an instrument to save his life (no patient for it). his dancing though? stage worthy. can be convinced to show off after a couple drinks.

Obsessed with the whole vibes of early season one of House. The ducklings have the energy of dysfunctional siblings along with their insane Vicodin-addict father. Wilson isn’t shown to have an office yet so he just lingers at House’s side while constantly and giving him fuck-me eyes. Wilson will just sit in on diagnoses and give his advice like he doesn’t have any responsibilities in the world. When the team needs to (illegally) shrink a patient’s tumor so it’s small enough to operate on, Wilson just says “alright” and does it along with Cameron. Chase does a silly American accent to fool a patient’s mother and it WORKS. Foreman is new and already despises everyone. House comments on how fuckable Wilson looks when Wilson is simply wearing a green tie and nice shoes. An old woman says that House has the same bedroom eyes as Ashton Kutcher. At one point the team, House, Wilson, and Cuddy all gather together in the small lab room to discuss a patient and are all basically brushing shoulders. Wilson reads a love poem out loud in the middle of the hospital to House. House eats tomato sauce that the team suspected was killing the patient. Wilson ditches his wife on Christmas Eve to go hang out with House and it shows a montage of them laughing and eating take-out. Cuddy greets House and Wilson by saying “hi, boys” like they’re kids. Foreman and Cameron are tasked to search a patient’s home and Foreman eats the ham he found in their fridge because he was hungry. The first scene with House shows him and Wilson walking down the hallway literally brushing hands and shoulders despite the hallway being huge. One of the first things Wilson does is lie to House. Wilson asks House — who rarely ever takes cases unless he finds them really interesting — to take a case and House just takes it. When asked why it was so easy, House just looks at Wilson with a smirk and says “you know why” and then they both smile at each other. This is all in the span of the first eight episodes.

[jasmines-library]

CAN YOU PLEASE DO SOMETHING WITH OLDER BROTHER DAMIAN WAHNE?? LIKE 11 ISH YEAR OLD READER?? Reader is also an ex child weapon. Just a silent cutie pie. I just wanna see Damian spoiling them. Or something with like reader not following his orders and telling Damian to go away and does reckless stuff that Damian did when he was younger and his older siblings are just laughing at the irony

Brotherly Love

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: Sorry again for the wait! but two in one day woo.

Warnings: Just fluffy

Word Count: 800.

ALSO THIS IS MY 100TH FIC 🎉🎉

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

“If you walk out that door I swear to God-” Damian curses as you slink out of the door of the batcave. He had explicitly told you that he didn’t want you going on this mission because he had deemed it ‘too dangerous’ as soon as Bruce gave the details. For a boy who claimed he ‘didn’t give a shit’ he was rather protective. Of course, being the highly trained, and rather confident 11 year old you are (which basically meant you were an adult) you had decided that you weren’t going to listen to him. With a sly smirk, you slipped out of the door. “God dammit!”

Damian kicks the wheely chair beside him. It slides across the room.  And then there’s laughter.

It was Jason, geared up in his suit, minus the signature hood. He was leaning against the wall, an amused smirk on his face. 

“Finally getting a taste of your own medicine, huh Demon Spawn?”

“What?” Damian half snapped, his temper wearing thin as he spun around to face his brother.

This made Jason’s grin widen. “Don’t act as if you weren’t exactly the same.”

Damian glowered. “That’s different.”

Jason just raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“....shut up. Where are you going anyway?” Damian nods towards Jason’s suit. 

“Someone has to go and get them. And it certainly won't be you.”

~

“Hi Dami.” You smiled as you sat yourself beside him on the couch. He was still in a grump, grumbling about your excursion. Jason had gone to find you, but instead of bringing you home, he let you finish the mission. This royally pissed Damian off, and he was almost 100% certain that Jason had done it just to spite him. But as much as he wanted to, Damian just couldn’t stay mad at you. Especially when you looked up at him with those bright and mischievous eyes. You very much reminded your other siblings of Damian when he was your age. Though of course, now he would claim he was all grown up and always has been. And, even though Damian wished he could keep holding his grudge against you, his face couldn't help but melt. 

“Hey, kiddo.” he greeted, looking down at you curiously.

“What are you doing?” You ask. You had always been fond of your older brothers, but you had an especially soft spot for Damian, as he did for you. 

Damian held up the book that he was half reading, but then gestured to the TV that he kept getting distracted by. “I don’t even know why I bothered trying to be honest.”

“Oh.” You acknowledged before reaching forwards to pick up the video game controllers. You raised an eyebrow and held one out for him to take. He snatched it up and turned it on. Damian was very clearly competitive, however he let you win the first few rounds before he decided he had had enough and wanted to take all of the glory for himself. 

At some point, the two of you deemed it time for a break. It didn’t last long, but it gave the two of you long enough to stretch your legs. When you returned, Damian was already back on the couch. On the coffee table he had placed two steaming mugs of hot cocoa, topped with cream and marshmallows. He had also haphazardly placed a bunch of crisps in a bowl and had collected an extensive array of snacks that he had chucked onto the table too. 

You raised an eyebrow, looking curiously at him. 

“What?”

“You got snacks.”

“Yeah….well you looked hungry.”

Your face melted at Damian’s tenderness. Damian rolled his eyes as you took a sip of the hot chocolate, getting whipped cream on your face. He chuckled and gestured for you to wipe it away. You grinned up at him again.

“Thank you, Dami.” you beamed, nudging his side affectionately. 

“Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.” He grumbled, unable to hide the sliver of a smile creeping up onto his face. 

The two of you eventually fall asleep, still in front of the TV and half gripping the controllers as the game idles on without you. It’s Dick who pokes his head around the door to see what the noise is. He is surprised to see you with your head on Damian’s shoulder as the two of you snooze. With a soft smile, he turns off the TV and places a blanket over the two of you. But not before snapping a quick picture of the two of you which he would definitely use to wind up Damian some point in the not too distant future.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[somerandomdudelmao]

This might just be the angst gremlins setting up shop in my brain, but I can't help thinking that it's not just brotherly love behind why Donnie is taking sole custody of mug!Leo.

Because it's obviously not that he doesn't trust Raph or Mikey to look after Leo and keep him on ninpo life support. They could do it just as well, and even if Mikey still needs to be resting and restoring his energy, Raph is back up to full strength.

But one of the last bits of footage Donnie has of Leo is his twin reaching out to him (or at least reaching out to his memory in the lab) and asking for help, for care, and then apologizing for asking and saying it's not Donnie's concern or responsibility.

And this--Donnie not letting go or letting up for a second, going without sleep so that Leo is never alone or without energy--feels like him answering that call. It's him saying silently (until he can say it in person) that his twin is always his concern and he'll always answer if he can. Plus, he is the Fix-It Guy and this is his twin; he has to be the one to make it right. He couldn't help Leo then but he can help him now, and try to "make up" for the way he feels he let his family down.

Fictional turtles continue to consume my thoughts, more news at 11.

YOU

YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE WHO GET IT

Because jdnfbfjd,c,d

Y e s

[capquinn]

here i am yet again hope you’re not over me yapping in your inbox all the time

i think about quinn revealing the big news that he’s gonna be a dad to jack & luke, maybe he’d get them mugs or tshirts that say ‘uncle’ and it takes them a hot minute to put the pieces together 😭

oh my god it would be absolute chaos, but in the most brotherly way possible.

Picture this: they’re in town for a couple of nights because it’s tradition at this point — late-night card games, takeout from Quinn’s favourite spot, and banter so constant you can’t even keep up. But this time, you and Quinn have a little extra something planned, and of course, he thinks he’s a genius about it.

So, the night before, Quinn had pulled out two brand-new mugs from the cupboard, bold lettering on each one: World’s Greatest Uncle.

“They’ll get it immediately,” he’d assured you, his confidence solid. “It’s so obvious.”

Except, now, it’s breakfast, and things aren’t exactly going to plan.

Quinn places the mugs in front of them casually, setting Jack’s next to his plate of eggs and Luke’s beside his toast.

“Sorry,” he says, far too nonchalantly, “we’re out of clean mugs. You’ll have to use these.”

Jack picks his up, squinting at it.

“World’s greatest uncle?” he reads aloud, glancing at Luke. “Why do you even have these? Did one of your friends have a kid or something?”

Luke furrows his brow at his own mug, swallowing a bite of toast.

“Why are there two of them?” he asks. “You don’t even know that many people with kids.”

Jack laughs, shaking his head. “This is so random, dude,” he says, taking a sip from it like nothing is amiss.

Across the kitchen, Quinn sips his coffee, his expression unreadable except for the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. You bite back a laugh as Jack and Luke spiral into a completely unrelated tangent about Quinn’s supposed lack of kitchenware, but your gaze meets Quinn’s over your mug, and you know he’s thinking the same thing: how are they this dense?

It’s not until you and Quinn have retreated to the couch that the lightbulb finally flickers to life. From the kitchen, you hear the low murmur of Jack’s voice, a scrape of chairs, and then:

“Quinn?”

Quinn turns slightly on the couch, his arm resting along the back as he glances at them over his shoulder. Jack and Luke are standing there, mugs in hand, expressions somewhere between confused and dawning realisation. Jack holds his mug up like it’s a crucial piece of evidence in a high-stakes case, his brow furrowed deeply.

“Are you guys having a baby?” he says, his voice a little louder, eyes wide.

Quinn’s lips twitch, the faintest ghost of a smile forming as he leans back against the couch.

“Yep,” he says, his tone calm and easy, like he wasn’t just waiting for this exact moment.

Jack’s reaction is instant. The second the realisation hits, he’s shoving the mug into Luke’s hand, muttering a distracted, “hold this,” before practically vaulting over the back of the couch. He crashes into Quinn with a hug so forceful it nearly sends them both sprawling, his arms locking around Quinn like he’s trying to squeeze the news out of him all over again.

You can’t help but laugh, reaching out instinctively to steady them, your hand bracing Quinn’s shoulder as he struggles to keep his balance. Jack is grinning ear to ear, smacking Quinn on the back hard enough to make him wince.

“Holy shit, bro!” Jack exclaims, his voice booming with excitement. “This is huge! Congrats!”

Quinn huffs out a laugh, his arms coming up to return the hug, even though Jack is practically squeezing the air out of him.

“Thanks, Jack,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and affection.

Luke, meanwhile, is still standing there with both mugs now, his brow furrowed in confusion as he processes what just happened. He glances between the mug, you, and his brothers like he’s replaying the moment in his head, trying to make sense of it.

Finally, he looks at you, his eyes wide.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he asks, his tone softer, tinged with awe. “You’re really having a baby?”

You nod, your grin widening as Luke’s expression shifts, the dawning realisation giving way to pure joy. He sets the mugs down carefully — because apparently, someone has to — and moves around the couch to wrap you in a hug.

“This is insane,” he says, his voice warm and full of excitement. “You’re gonna be parents. Holy shit. Quinn’s gonna be a dad.”

Jack pulls back, his grin turning mischievous as he claps Quinn’s shoulder.

“Better you than me, bro,” he says with a laugh.

Quinn rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t falter.

“Yeah, thanks, Jack,” he says, the dryness in his tone failing to mask the warmth underneath.

[damthosefandoms]

one of the biggest fights darry & soda have ever had—and i like to think they fought like cats and dogs as kids, the sibling rivalry was so so strong between them, and that’s brotherly love—was whether or not to bury their parents with their wedding rings. and then pony was on darry’s side, wanting their parents to always have a piece of their love for each other, but soda wanted that piece to himself. to remind him how much his parents loved each other, and so one day he could show somebody that love too—so soda either 1) slipped them off and pocketed them during the wake or 2) made up this whole story about how he was going to go get them polished before the burial and got mugged on the way there and lost them. but they’re hidden beneath the floorboard in his old bedroom and soda’s gonna use them to propose to sandy one day. and then when sandy leaves, he cries for days to the point where darry’s eye is twitching and he snaps at soda to get over her and soda blurts out that it’s not about sandy, it’s about the fact that he secretly kept their parents’ rings despite his brothers’ wishes so he could marry her, and now he can’t undo that they’ve been laid to rest without them, and it’s making him sick. and still some part of him doesn’t regret it, because he likes having a piece of them and never wants to let it go.

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 33 The Epilogue | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Some things never seem to change for Bradley. But maybe he worked at keeping them the same. Baseball, Everett and you.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Seventeen and a half years later...

"Happy birthday, Coach," you whispered, slowly coaxing Bradley awake. He could feel your warm breath on his cheek and the weight of your hand resting on his chest. 

"Mmm, Kitten," he rasped, placing his bigger hand on top of yours as he cracked his eyes open. And there you were, fresh from sleep yourself, and so beautiful with the early morning sunlight catching on the angles of your face. "It's Sunday. Why won't you let me sleep in?"

"Because it's your birthday. And we get to see Ev."

Bradley stretched and rolled over so you were pinned deliciously underneath him. "We won't get to see Ev until later this afternoon. He's going to have a very busy day."

"I'm not so sure about that," you said with a smirk as you dragged your fingers through his hair. Bradley knew he was going gray, but you claimed you liked it, including the few stray strands that found their way into his mustache. 

"You sound like you've got something up your sleeve. Wait, Molly's not coming over to break the stove again, is she?"

You started laughing as you wrapped your legs around his. "Not that I know of. But anything's possible with her."

"Poor Bob," he said, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "And the kids, too. She's an absolute menace." 

Bradley pulled up your shirt and kissed his way along your breasts. If he was lucky, he'd get round one of birthday sex now and round two tonight after the game.

"Wait," he whined as you tugged your shirt back down. "What are you doing? It's my birthday."

"Yes," you agreed, kissing him once and then slipping right out of bed. "And I've been told I need to keep you on a very strict schedule. So come on. Get up."

"A strict schedule?" he mumbled. "Baby, I'm retired. My schedule revolves around making you breakfast, packing your lunch, coaching tee ball, and watching every single Phillies game."

"Well, I'll be making your breakfast today. And you can eat nachos or a hot dog for lunch even though you should be watching your sodium intake. And we will definitely catch the Phillies game," you said, reaching out to take his hand. 

With one more groan, he let you lead him downstairs where you told him to sit at the kitchen counter. He passed his display case on the way and paused to look at his first Coach of the Year trophy and the baseball covered in little faded hearts that he used to propose to you. He smiled at the collection of other baseballs, including the one from the first time his son pitched a no hitter. 

"Seriously, Bradley. We have a schedule to keep."

A few minutes later he had his World's Greatest Dad mug full of coffee in front of him. You kept checking the time as you pulled eggs and vegetables out of the refrigerator. Once 8:00 hit, you grabbed his phone from where it sat on the counter and entered his passcode as he sipped his coffee.

"Read this," you said, voice full of excitement. 

"What is it?" he asked as you thrust the phone into his hands. It looked like he was going to have absolutely no say over what went on today, so he was just going to go with the flow.

"An article. In the Philadelphia Inquirer. It just got released two minutes ago."

"Okay," he muttered, setting down his coffee and as he started to read.

WILL SEASON FOUR BE AS LUCKY AS ONE, TWO, AND THREE?

by Harrison Boyd

June 27, 2039

From his draft day nearly four years ago to now, Everett Bradshaw has been turning heads. We had collectively wondered as baseball fans from the City of Brotherly Love if we would ever have a truly elite pitcher again after Ronson's career ending injury. But as soon as the franchise acquired Bradshaw, we were allowed to stop wondering. We have reached elite status once again. And Bradshaw shows no signs of stopping. 

When I asked the freshly twenty five year old ace about the secret to his success, the first thing out of his mouth was, "My dad."

Bradley rubbed his eyes with his fingers and took a deep breath against the swell of emotions rising in his chest. "Kitten, what is this?"

You just shrugged as you cut up a green pepper for an omelette. "A feature article on Ev. Keep reading."

Bradley took a deep breath and picked up where he left off.

So I asked him, "Was your dad the one at your games who was cheering the loudest? The one who kept you motivated since you were a kid?"

"Not exactly," Bradshaw replied with a smile. "He was my very first coach. He actually still coaches tee ball in San Diego. He wins Coach of the Year so frequently, I think we've all lost count of how many of those little trophies he has at home. But anyway, I met my dad on the very first day I ever played ball. The very first time I swung a bat with instruction was from him. And he's the one who taught me how to pitch. His slider is still really hard to hit."

"You met your dad through tee ball? Through baseball? That's fascinating."

"Yes. I begged my mom to let me play. I was already obsessed with the Phillies by the time I was six. My mom took me to see them clobber the Padres at Petco Park, and I just thought they were the coolest team. So when she let me play tee ball, and I met my coach and learned he also loved the Phillies, I just wanted to spend as much time with him as I could. Turns out, they also wanted to spend time with each other. They got married a few months later. And then my dad adopted me."

While his birth name wasn't Bradshaw, Everett said he never had a close relationship with his biological father. "Really, he's not even worth mentioning. The only one I've ever considered to be my dad is Bradley. I can barely remember a time before he was taking me to the park to hit balls and teaching me how to keep stats. We did my homework together and collected baseball cards. He helped me apply to colleges. The video of him losing his mind when the Phillies drafted me went viral. My mom and my aunt and uncle are awesome, too. But my dad has always understood me in a way probably nobody else ever will."

During his four years at Vanderbilt, Everett earned a reputation as a fun loving, team oriented pitcher. But his stats were enough to catch the eye of every major league team. He pitched a no hitter against Stanford when he was nineteen, and he hit his first grand slam when he was twenty. And he's only cleaned up his form since then. For anyone not keeping track at home, Bradshaw already owns an incredible record in the MLB: he is the only player to pitch a no hitter as well as hit at least one grand slam for every year they played in the pros. His batting averages are practically unheard of for a pitcher. 

It's no wonder he was heavily scouted. And he assures us that his dad was there with him every step of the way. "I didn't know anything about contracts. I just wanted to pitch. But I spent a lot of time talking things through with my dad before I made any decisions. And now everyone is making a huge fuss about my new 440 million dollar ten year extension with the Phils, but to be honest, I still just want to pitch as many games as I can."

The 'huge fuss' is being made, because Bradshaw is now the highest paid pitcher in league history. The Phillies went all in on him, however Bradshaw did adjust his deal to assure that the team would be able to keep top catcher Sanchez as well. "If Miguel Sanchez isn't catching for me and the other guys in the rotation, then that's a big problem. The team needed to retain him as well. And to be honest, Harrison, nobody needs 440 million dollars."

Bradley set his phone down, rubbed his eyes, and said, "I still can't believe our son is the highest paid pitcher ever."

"I can," you replied, adding cheese to the omelette. "He's incredible. Keep reading."

When I asked him what he plans to do with 44 million dollars per year, he kind of shied away from the answer at first. "Well my girlfriend runs a nonprofit organization back in San Diego. She helps fund underprivileged children and schools. So a lot of my income goes back to kids in the city where I grew up and beyond. But I've also been working on a bit of a project myself."

When I asked him for more details, he folded his hands on the table in front of him and took a few beats to answer. "We talked a lot about my dad and what he means to me personally, and how he has impacted my career. But I also think it's important to remember that I'm just one guy. I'm just one kid who went through tee ball and little league. There are thousands of kids across the country who benefit from those types of athletic programs every year. And some of them, just like me, really need the positive influence that the coaches bring. So my dad doesn't even know about this yet, but I'm starting the Bradley Bradshaw Foundation, which will help fund a handful of youth tee ball programs every year. This is something I've been thinking about for a long time. The coaches bring the love and dedication; they shouldn't have to worry about equipment costs and field rental fees."

Bradley dropped his phone onto the counter and tried to wipe his eyes as he sobbed. "I can't even finish reading it."

You slid his birthday breakfast onto a plate and set it in front of him. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him cry against your shoulder. 

"Why is he doing this?" Bradley asked you. "He knows how fucking emotional I get, Kitten."

You kissed the top of his head and whispered, "Yes, you're always very soft for us. But you're also soft and sweet for all the kids you've coached. Keep reading."

So he pushed his breakfast aside and picked up his phone once again. And once he blinked away most of his tears he read the last part.

When pressed about how he thinks his stats will pan out by the end of his fourth season, Everett 'Grand Slam' Bradshaw laughed and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just trying for consistency. I'm trying to be a good teammate. I'm trying to make the best of every game I get to start. I'm trying to spend as much time with my family as I can. But if you really have a specific question about my stats, you should call my dad. He probably knows better than I do."

Bradley stood up from the kitchen counter and walked away from you. "I need a minute," he said, raking his hands through his hair. The love Bradley felt for his son was just simply part of him. He never took the time to try to pinpoint it exactly, because it was just built into him at this point. But he supposed it really was quite simple to reach back in his mind and pull out the moments when he started to fall in love with you and Everett. And it really was just because of the Tiny Eagles tee ball team. 

If he hadn't agreed to help Bob coach that first season, his life would be fundamentally incorrect right now. He didn't even like thinking about it. But it was because of his love for Everett, and you, and baseball that he stuck with coaching. He'd spent time with countless six and seven year olds over the last eighteen years. He'd missed some practices and games for deployments here and there, sure. But giving a little bit of his time and attention to a roster of kids each spring ended up changing his life. Because while his family owned his heart, Bradley found he had quite a lot of patience and love to share with more kids. 

"Bradley?" you asked softly, standing next to his untouched breakfast. "We can go see Ev when you're ready."

"I'm ready."

Bradley took a quick shower and put on his favorite jeans and his Phillies jersey with Bradshaw and the number 1 on the back. You were dressed similarly in your own Everett Bradshaw jersey; it had taken until your son was playing for the team for you to have what Bradley considered an adequate amount of Phillies clothing in your drawers. Once Bradley added his backwards hat, he was ready to go.

You took his hand and led him out to the new Bronco, and Bradley handed you the keys. He still felt like he was on the verge of tears again. "I need you to drive."

"Okay, Coach."

When you turned onto the Private Parking Only ramp at Petco Park, Bradley chuckled. "I still can't believe Ev is playing the Padres in San Diego on my birthday."

"You screamed like a small child when the schedule came out," you reminded him as you parked near the players entrance where the three of you had entered on your ballpark tour eighteen years ago. 

"Yeah, I know, but we hardly ever get to see Ev during the season unless we fly to Philly." He was already climbing out before you turned the engine off, and then he took your hand as you laughed. "Shit, Kitten... it's 10:00. The game doesn't start until 1:00. Are the gates even open?"

"We can get in," you assured him, and you pulled a lanyard out of your pocket with VIP printed all over it. 

"How did we get that?" he asked, leaning down to kiss you as you approached the gate together. "Ev usually just sends us box tickets."

But before you had a chance to answer, the security guard looked at the VIP pass and asked, "Which player are you here to see?"

"Everett Bradshaw?" you replied. "He plays for the Phillies."

The guard's face lit up and he said, "He just autographed a ball for my kids about ten minutes ago! Nicest guy."

"He's our son," Bradley said with pride in his voice, and you squeezed his hand a little tighter. 

"Come on in," the guard said with a bright smile, unlocking the gate and sliding it open. "You can wait in the VIP lounge right up this ramp to the right. Scan the pass to unlock the door. I'll call down to the locker rooms and let him know you're here."

"Thanks," Bradley replied, and you led the way up the ramp. "Baby, I'm still a little confused about why we're here so early."

"You'll see in a minute," you replied, scanning the badge. Bradley pulled the door open when it unlocked, and he followed you into the lounge full of plush seats, TV screens, and refreshments. And at the far end, perched on the edge of one of the long tables, was Everett. He was smiling as he tucked his phone in his jeans pocket, and Bradley thought he looked impossibly taller and stronger than he had two months ago when they visited him in Philadelphia.

Bradley's eyes filled with tears as he started closing the distance to his son. "Happy birthday, Dad," Everett said with a laugh in his deep voice, but Bradley was already wrapping him up in a tight hug. He just wanted to hold all six foot two inches and two hundred and twenty pounds of his son, and Everett let him. 

Bradley had to fight the onslaught of tears as the familiar feel of Ev hugging him back filled his senses, and the words from the article he read earlier flooded his mind. When he finally released him, he patted him on the shoulder. "You look good, Kiddo. Did you eat enough for breakfast? Are you still starting today?"

Ev smiled at him and nodded, "Yeah, I'm feeling good, Dad. I could probably use some of your pancakes though."

"Well why didn't you say something? I could have brought some with us. Kitten, why didn't you say something?" he asked you as you walked over to join them.

As Everett gave you an enormous hug as well, he said, "I'm thinking about sleeping over at the house with you guys tonight, since I'm not starting tomorrow. You can make me about a dozen pancakes tomorrow morning. Hi, mom."

You kissed his cheek and adjusted his backward Phillies cap. "I like your hair this way. You look so handsome, Ev.

"Of course he does," Bradley agreed. "He looks like you." And then he was rewarded with the twin smiles that you and Everett bestowed on him at the same time. "Listen, if you're coming back to the house later, I need to stop and get groceries. You ate everything in the refrigerator and drank all my beer last time."

Everett just smiled at him. "Damn, I really do miss your pancakes."

"Ev, that's an adult word," you scolded.

"Mom. I am an adult," he scolded back playfully. But he was grinning when he turned toward Bradley. "Did mom make you read the article this morning? From the Inquirer?" 

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding his head. "You didn't need to do that for me, Kiddo. But thank you."

His throat was tight with unshed tears as Everett gave him another hug. "I didn't do it just for you. I did it for the other coaches and kids, too. You were just my main inspiration. You always are, dad."

"Please, Ev," he said, sucking in a deep breath as he rubbed his son's back before releasing him. "I might never stop crying."

And he was once again met with Everett's smile and yours. "You're a softie, Coach," you told him, cupping his chin in your hand and kissing him.

"Always for the two of you." Bradley kissed your fingers and then laced them with his as he looked around the room. "How much longer can you hang out with us, Ev? You need to warm up soon?"

"Pretty soon," he replied. "I'll walk you up to the box to meet Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob and the cousins, but we need to stop and take care of something first."

"Take care of what?" Bradley asked, but Ev was already heading for the door past the tables and unlocking it with his own badge. Hand in hand, the two of you followed your son down a long hallway that ended near the locker rooms at a door that said PRESS AND PLAYERS ONLY. "Are we even allowed back here?"

"Well," Everett said, stopping in front of the door, "if you remember the tour we took when I was six years old, this is where we met some of the players."

"Of course I remember," Bradley said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "That was one of the best days of my life. I told your mom I loved her that day."

"He did," you confirmed for Everett.

"You two have always been sickening," Everett replied with a smile. "But yes, we're allowed in here. Actually dad, you're the man of the hour."

"Man of the hour?" he asked. "Kiddo, you're the star pitcher. It's just my fifty-fifth birthday." 

But as soon as Everett pushed the door open and Bradley stepped inside, about twenty reporters and photographers started buzzing with excitement. 

"Ev, I'm still confused," Bradley said as his son rested a hand on his shoulder. He watched you smile and head to an empty seat at the back of the room. "What's going on?"

Ev rubbed his shoulder before giving him another hug and releasing him. "Every interviewer asks me how I became successful. And my answer is always the same. It's because of you, Dad."

"Ev," Bradley choked out, his throat tight with tears once again.

"So you're in high demand, Coach. I told a few media outlets we would give an interview together. Nothing too crazy. As long as you want to."

Bradley glanced around the room, and as soon as he found you with a bright smile on your face, he said, "Okay."

So he sat down where the players sit, and Everett took the seat next to him. They had on matching jerseys and backward caps, and it didn't matter that he adopted Everett, this had always been his son. They were cut from the same cloth. They understood each other. They were a family. 

Everett cleared his throat and announced, "Hey, everyone. This is my dad and my very first coach, retired naval Captain Bradley Bradshaw. He taught me literally everything I know about baseball. Everything I know about anything, really. He showed me how to pitch sliders and curveballs at Myers Park here in San Diego. He made sure I could lose a game with the same attitude as when I won a game. He and I met the first day I ever played tee ball and the very first day he ever coached. And he's been coaching the Tiny Eagles ever since. So I guess if you want to know more about me, then he's the man to talk to."

Bradley was still wiping tears from his eyes when the first interviewer raised her hand, smiled at him, and asked, "Can you tell us how proud you are of Everett?"

He turned to look at his son and smiled. "How much time do I have?"

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

Well, that's it! The tale of Coach Bradley! I can't thank you enough to everyone who has been lovely to me as I worked on and posted this fic. I can't get enough of these three. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32 (and thanks for the banner, Mak!)

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Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

Still want more? Read Draft Day!

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[too-much-tma-stuff]

In the Light of Day (part 9)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

In the two weeks since the raid on the GIW base Jason and Danny had been receiving regular updates from Tim about how Ellie was doing with the Teen Titans. She seemed like she was settling in well, and recovering from everything that she had been through slowly but surely. In a way Danny was really glad she hadn’t been entirely stable, the GIW hadn’t been able to do much to her before she started destabilizing. It was bad enough of course, and she had plenty of lingering trauma, but she hadn’t been broken in the same way he had. She hadn’t reached out yet, but just knowing that she was out there and she was okay soothed his broken edges tremendously. 

She was getting along well with Superboy, they were supporting each other well and Superboy had taken on an almost brotherly role with her. She was getting into chaos with Impulse, and generally… having a good time. Danny had even seen some pictures of her which had made him cry again while Jason held him.

Tim had also used a secure line to ask Danny some clarifying questions about the information on the USB he’d given him. Danny had been as open about everything as he could without sending himself into a panic, and didn’t hear back from Tim for a few more days before he suddenly showed up in crime alley one night dressed as Robin. 

“Your family has a habit of unscheduled visits huh?” Danny commented to Jason over the coms as he headed to intercept Tim. Jason couldn’t do it because was finishing up his work, and waiting to hear what Tim wanted to see if he actually needed to leave early or not.

“Ya,” Jason agreed with a slightly sheepish laugh. “Boundaries are not something this family has ever been good at. We can try to enforce them more if it’s bothering you?”

“No, that’s alright. I’m glad you have a better relationship with them now and I like them well enough too,” Danny assured before launching himself off one rooftop, flying across the gap between buildings and half tackling Tim making him yelp. They rolled across the roof as Danny gave a play growl and Tim grappled with him for a few moments. 

It had spooked Tim the first time Danny had done this, because he thought Danny was actually mad at him, but now he understood that it was just in play. Indulging it made Danny happy so Tim didn’t really mind, it was part of the way he bonded apparently. If Danny was actually mad Tim didn’t like his chances honestly.

“So, what do you need?” Danny asked once Tim had tapped out (he rarely won these little wrestles, and when he did it felt distinctly like Danny had let him win).

“I want to talk to you and Red Hood about something serious,” Robin told Danny with a little frown. “Do you have time tonight, or I can come back later.”

“Hood? Can you get away tonight?” Danny asked, tapping into the com.

“Ya, give me an hour. Take the baby bird home and put the kettle on, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jason confirmed. Danny passed the message along and Tim nodded distractedly, following Danny home and accepting a cup of tea which he didn’t actually drink.

He was quiet as they waited for Jason to get home. Tim had a way of sitting unnervingly still in moments like this, it was almost like he was on pause. He didn’t start moving again until Jason arrived and had been handed a fresh cup of tea by Danny. 

“So, what did you want to talk about Tim?” Jason asked and Tim unpaused with a blink and a little shake. 

“I’m working on a presentation for the Justice League about the atrocities committed by the GIW and the anti-ecto acts that enable them,” Tim said bluntly. 

Jason put down his mug abruptly with a clatter and Danny let out a startled snarl. They shared a look of concern and suspicion and then looked back at Tim. They were willing to hear him out, even if it was an uncomfortable topic.

“I would appreciate it if you would look over the presentation, or maybe let me practice it on you, before I give it to them to make sure it’s accurate and respectful. I would also consider it a personal favour if you would come to the meeting yourselves, as representatives of the people who’ve been affected by these laws. Obviously, you don’t have to, but Ellie already agreed to come with us and I thought you might want to be there for her.” 

“I’ll go,” Danny said immediately. He hadn’t wanted to, but if Ellie was going then he wasn’t going to leave her to face this alone. She was a very brave and capable girl, but she was technically only about five years old, and Vlad hadn’t exactly done a perfect job cloning her so her knowledge and capabilities could be... patchy. He wasn’t going to leave her to face this alone, even if going to this meeting and facing the Justice League was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Well, I guess if he’s going I have to too,” Jason sighed begrudgingly with a shrug. “You and Big Wing will be there?” Jason asked Tim, who nodded. “Good, where will the meeting take place?” 

“Probably the Watchtower,” Tim admitted with a little shrug. 

“Is that the one that’s in space?” Danny demanded excitedly. The abrupt change of tone took Tim off guard but he nodded. “Awesome! Are there observation rooms? If there are, I demand time there if we’re going to see! I want to see SPACE!” 

Tim gaped at Danny a little and Jason laughed fondly. Danny seemed to realize he’d gotten a little too excited and blushed a little, smiling sheepishly at them. 

“Sure, I can probably arrange that,” Tim agreed with a little shrug. 

“Great, let us know as soon as you have a date for that. I want as much time as possible to prepare for it, and I refuse to agree to anything besides a non-aggression pact beforehand,” Jason told Tim firmly who just nodded absently. 

“Ya no worries, you don’t have to agree to anything, Dick and I are planning to smuggle you both in anyway,” Tim said, nodding absently. 

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission?” Jason asked with a snort of amusement. Tim gave him a conspiratorial smirk and nodded, making Jason laugh properly. “You know, if you’d lead with the fact this would piss off Bruce I would have agreed right away,” Jason joked and Danny cackled.

“But that’s not the purpose, that’s just a bonus,” Tim said with an impish smile.

“I like you kid. Ya, we’ll be there to support you,” Jason confirmed without hesitation this time.

----------

Danny had corrected a few things in Tim’s presentation for him, mostly about ghosts, or ecto-entity’s, behaviour and culture. He obviously wasn’t telling Tim everything that he knew, but it was enough that if the Justice League came into contact with them through all this they wouldn’t cause terrible offense or get themselves killed. Tim questioned how Danny knew all this but he had just given an enigmatic smile and refused to answer the questions. Tim had sighed and accepted the secrecy, hoping he could get Ellie to tell him later.

Only once both Elie and Danny had approved the presentation did Tim go ahead with requesting a meeting with the full JL about something urgent, but not so urgent it couldn’t be worked into peoples schedules in a week or so. As soon as he knew when it would be (Thursday at 3 pm) Tim told Jason and Danny, just like they’d asked.

They found out that knowing was a double edged sword. On one hand it was more time to prepare, on the other it was more time to panic, and Jason could tell Danny was panicking. Jason wasn’t looking forward to it either, but he was not freaking out the way that Danny was, so he set his own nerves aside and focused on helping his boyfriend. Including calming him down from three panic attacks! 

Jason was fairly used to Danny’s panic attacks, and knew they ranged from sobbing, trembling breakdowns to violent outbursts. His outbursts were more controlled then Jason’s at least, he would hate to see what true pit madness would look like with Danny’s power. Just the taste from facing the GIW was more than enough.

Jason had learned how to deal with all of Danny’s episodes over the course of their relationship, but three in a week was more than he’d ever seen Danny have and Jason didn’t know how to help. He knew how to get Danny through his panic attacks themselves of course, but he had no idea what to say to actually make Danny feel better and stop having panic attacks. It seemed like this was something they just needed to weather, though Jason wasn’t happy about it.

He understood completely why Danny was scared of course. He was going to have to face a lot of traumas in this, and ones he couldn't just smash, kill, and blow up like the GIW, complicated ones. At least they wouldn’t be alone, and being reminded Dick, Tim, and Ellie would be there to back them up if needed did seem to make Danny feel a little better at least. 

The night before the meeting they were laying in bed together with Jason half sprawled on top of Danny like a weighted blanket. Jason had bought him an actual weighted blanket, but he still preferred Jason when he was available. Maybe because Danny produced very little body heat on his own and Jason was a walking furnace, but probably just because he loved Jason. 

“So, are you ready for tomorrow?” Jason murmured, nuzzling into Danny’s neck and breathing in his scent, like freshly fallen snow and lighting infused air. 

“No, but I’ll manage,” Danny sighed back, carding his fingers through Jason’s hair. 

“Is there anything I need to know before the meeting?” 

“Maybe,” Danny conceded. He didn’t continue right away so Jason stayed quiet, giving Danny the time he needed to arrange his thoughts before sharing them. “I don’t think it will come up, but just in case… I’m technically the crown prince of the Infinite Realms.” He sounded almost sheepish. 

It took Jason a moment to process what Danny had said and then he sat up abruptly, looking down at Danny in disbelief. He gave Jason a nervous smile, looking a little ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, what?” Jason tried not to snap at Danny, he winced anyway.

“Ya, the crown of the Infinite Realms is passed through Trial by Combat. The previous king Pariah is an asshole who was bound in the coffin of Forever Sleep ages ago, but all the ancients had to work together to do it so they couldn’t actually take the crown. Since it has to be single combat, you know? When I was 16 my late bastard of a godfather released Pariah from the coffin and I defeated him one on one. I escaped taking the crown by a technicality because I forced him back into the coffin instead of ending him, but everyone expects that when I’m older and more stable I’ll go back and defeat him properly and take the crown.

“Like, there’s a prophecy about it, that the true king would be a halfa? That’s why Pariah killed them all in the first place. I’m not king technically, but plenty of ghosts already swear loyalty to me whether I want them to or not.” Danny looked sad, and scared, Jason took pity on him and lay back down with him, pulling him close. 

“You don’t have to be king then, right?” Jason questioned, since it was obvious Danny didn’t want this. “You still have a choice.”

“Not really,” Danny admitted with a sigh, looking away. “Someone will let Pariah out of his coffin again eventually, and when he does I’ll be the only one able to defeat him. So when that time comes my options will be to beat him myself or let him take over the world again. I guess I could force him back into the coffin again to try and delay it further, but the Council would probably start getting antsy and let him out themselves to try and force the issue and I’d still only be delaying the inevitable. It’s very unlikely that anyone as strong as me will come along in the next… millennia.”

“Damn…” Jason breathed, turning that over in his head for a moment before he let out an incredulous little laugh. “Well that’s one hell of a trump card to have in your back pocket if anyone tries to give you trouble. I mean you probably have diplomatic immunity or some shit.” 

The comment startled a laugh out of Danny as well. “Ya, I guess so! I hadn’t thought about that. Well, I still won’t say anything if I can help it but I guess that’s a card I can keep up my sleeve if we need it,” Danny allowed with a half smile. 

“I know you said you’re not ready for the meeting, but I know that you are. It’s going to be hard, but you are ready, and I’ll be there with you. You can do this for us, can’t you?” Jason asked, knowing that Danny was more inclined to push through if he wasn’t just doing something for himself. 

“Ya, I can do that,” Danny promised, nuzzling into Jason’s hair. He seemed more relaxed now thankfully. 

“Good, now get some sleep,” Jason directed and smiled a little when Danny snuggled closer and closed his slightly luminescent blue eyes. “Sweet dreams Moonlight, I love you.”

“You got it Boss. I love you too,” Danny sighed contentedly.

The next morning was an early one for them. Mostly because once they woke up neither of them could get back to sleep, so even though they hadn’t gone to bed until almost 2 am (thank you vigilante schedule) they were both up by seven. Brewing strong coffee in the kitchen and making scrambled eggs and toast since Jason couldn’t be bothered with anything fancy. 

With several hours till the meeting and nothing to do, they settled for rewatching some of their favourite movies and comfort eating some junk food. It was too early to go out and cause any real mayhem anyway. Finally it was time to suit up and go meet Dick and Tim so they could smuggle Red Hood and Hyena into The Watchtower. It was easy enough, Batman had gone in early and Hood already knew exactly where the Batcave was, so they just met up there and used the zeta-tube.

It had been a long time since Jason had been on one of those things and Danny never had, so they approached it with some trepidation. Danny in particular was eyeing the machine with wariness bordering on fear. Jason heard him mutter; “Cool, ya, I’ll just get into the giant metal tube, as if that didn’t kill me last time,” so he could guess the zeta-tube resembled whatever had killed him before, good to know. 

Dick went first, cheerfully saying it was to make sure the coast was clear, though Jason suspected it was really because he had noticed Hyena’s nerves and wanted to prove it was safe. Once he’d texted Tim that everything was fine Jason grabbed Danny’s hand and walked with him into the tube confidently. Danny was reluctant, but he let Jason tug him along, and since he could have easily stopped them both, that was good enough consent.

Jason felt a familiar swoop in his just as they were swept away in the beam, and caught Danny when their feet hit the floor again and he stumbled. “See? Not dead,” Jason joked to his partner as he held Danny close, feeling his slight trembling subside quickly. 

“Are you sure?” Danny joked weakly, looking a little paler than usual. 

“You’re not going to be sick are you?” Jason asked worriedly. 

Danny took a deep breath and shook his head; “No, I’ll be fine.”

“Good, then let’s get out of the way so Robin can Zeta in,” Jason promoted. 

Reminded that they were still in the tube Danny practically dragged Jason out. To his surprise it wasn’t just Nightwing waiting for them, but all of the Teen Titans, including their newest member. 

“Little Star,” Danny breathed, his eyes wide above his mask. Phantasm looked shy, shifting from foot to foot with barely contained nervous energy. Danny smiled behind his mask and lifted his arms, which she threw herself into immediately, clinging desperately to her template. Danny hugged her back just as tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he clutched her to his chest.

“Why didn’t you come to visit me? I missed you,” Phantasm questioned tearfully. 

“I missed you too, I just wasn’t sure you’d want to know me like I am now,” Danny explained softly. 

“Of course I do! We’re family,” Ellie said, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Then you’re always welcome where I am Starlight. I still can’t take care of you properly, and I think you should stay with them. But come visit me whenever you want, whatever you need,” Danny promised her gently.

“I will,” Phantasm agreed, finally letting go of Danny so she could wipe the tears from her face, sniffling a little. “I know you can’t have me stay with you right now. I can feel…” She trailed off, glancing around them, remembering they had an audience and reconsidering what she was going to say. Danny appreciated that since he was pretty sure she was about to bring up his cracked core. “I know you have a lot of healing to do too, so you can’t be worrying about me all the time.” 

“I’ll always worry about you, Phantasm, you’re basically my daughter,” Danny laughed, and let her lightly wack his arm for it. “I just can’t… support you right now.”

“I understand, it’s okay,” Phantasm reassured him with a sad little smile. 

“Great, are you guys ready for the meeting now?” Tim butted in a little callously, earning a glare from Dick. “We’re a bit late so everyone else should be there by now.” 

“Sure, let’s do this,” Danny agreed, grabbing Jason’s hand again tightly. "It's time to get all this shit out in the light of day."

[daisyblog]

Uncle Louis

Our Story Masterlist Summary: Louis meets Grace for the first time.

From the moment Louis learnt that his sister and Harry were having a baby, he longed for the day he meets his little niece. He loved Lucky and Olive, and he couldn’t wait to feel the feeling all over again. 

He had asked not to see any photos of the new arrival as he wanted to meet the little one without seeing her little face first. So once he knew YN and Harry were back home and settled as their new little family, he went to see them. 

Louis immediately congratulated Harry as he walked through their front door, pulling him into a brotherly hug. 

When Louis arrived, he was met with YN lounging in the living room and the tiniest baby cuddled into her chest. “Oh my fo-“. Louis stopped the swear word from spilling. “She’s so small!”. 

“She’s like a little doll!” YN smiled down at her little baby, rubbing her back gently. A habit she had quickly picked up. “Do you want a cuddle?”. 

Louis sat down next to YN, his eyes still attached to the little baby that he now got to call his niece. “Of course I do!”. YN gently moved so she could place her little girl into her brother’s arms. “‘ello…you’re so tiny”. Louis smiled down at the newborn. “You look just like your Mummy!”.

“Harry said that when she was born” YN explained as she remembered their conversation after she was born. “He said she looks like Mum too”.

Louis let out a sad smile. “I can see Mum too…I just didn’t want to say incase it made you upset”.

“It brings me comfort…yah know to think I can see Mum’s face again”. YN reassured him as they both look at the sleeping baby, who was still content in her uncle’s arms. 

Harry returned to the room, with three mugs of tea in his hands. He smiled at the sight of his daughter cuddled up in Louis’ arms. “Suits you Lou!”. He teased, earning a “fook off Harold!”.

The three spent the afternoon chatting, drinking tea and being absolutely obsessed with the new arrival. But Louis realised he hadn’t heard them mention and it began to make him curious.

“So has this little beauty got a name?”. Louis looked between his sister and Harry as they shared a cheeky grin. 

“She does.” YN smiled innocently at her brother, not giving anything away. 

Louis looked for any signs on the newborn clothing or something in the room but he was still clueless. “Are you gonna tell me?”.

There was a short pause before YN gave in a revealed their daughter’s name. “Meet Grace Johannah Robyn Styles!”.

YN and Harry noticed Louis swallow harshly, almost like he was trying to hold his emotions back but he was quick to wipe away a single tear from his cheek. He looked down at Grace in his arms and was completely overwhelmed at how much thought had gone into her name. 

“I love it…and I love you both for giving her a thoughtful name”. Louis complimented the special name. 

“They are all special people…who will always be with us”. Harry kept his focus on his daughter, as he thought about the three people they had lost. 

“They’re all proud of you…and so am I!” Louis’ voice was emotional, a slight tremble to it. “Especially you”. He spoke directly to YN. “You make me extra proud”. 

Tears streamed down YN’s cheeks at his words. Harry wrapping his arms around her to comfort her. “I couldn’t ask for a better Mum for our Gracie!”. Harry kissed the top of her head as she wiped away her tears. 

“You two need to stop, I’m going to flood this place”. YN tried to hold back more tears from falling. But in true YN style she managed to make them both laugh, with her lack of care to what she said. “I need my baby back…before my boobs do a milk explosion!”.

“Welcome to the family Grace!”. 

---

ynstyles

liked by louist91, gemmastyles, and 2,778,932 others

ynstyles Cuddles with Uncle Louis❤️ View all 11,451 comments

annetwist Aww how precious 🥰

lottietomlinson best uncle 🫶🏼

marktommo1111 A special photo❤️

louteasdale 🥹

mrsemily.deakin Doris and Ernie can’t wait to visit🥰❤️ ⌞ ynstyles Can’t wait to see them and Grace is excited for her cuddles with her Auntie and Uncle 🤍

niallhoran I hope there’s some left for me xx ⌞ ynstyles Always! Can’t wait to see you xx

louist91 Missing her already!!xx

thephoebetomlinson the best uncle to our girls and lucky❤️

louisfan MY HEART ❤️❤️❤️

1Dfan4 too much cuteness

harryfan8 Grace is so lucky having Harry as her Dad and Louis as an uncle!!!

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream @treehouse-mouse

[profoundathletecowboybanana]

Don’t get me wrong I love the “jason joking about his own death to guilt trip Bruce during petty arguments” bit but we haven’t explored TIM doing this Jason nearly enough after being literally almost-murdered by him

Tim: can you get me some more coffee?

Jason: ????? No tf???? Get it yourself dipshit

Tim, hand already over his chest in betrayal: wow, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize that you still wanted me fucking DEAD. Wow. You haven’t even tried to make it up to me, and I ask you for one simple, brotherly favor and you-

Jason, grabbing 3 out of 5 empty mugs surrounding Tim: jfc WHATEVER

[lokisgoodgirl]

Home Truths: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (4) Loki is given a shake, and the four of you hit up the local supermarket. Warnings: Minors DNI. Ex-Loki. Major Satchelage. Humour. Brotherly/ Domestic fluff. Smut references. Mild angst. Pining. (w/c 4.5k) Recommended Folklore Track: Hoax

The rain hadn’t stopped. You’d spent the next few hours limping between rooms, keeping busy, stealing glances out the droplet-streaked windows where you could.

Where was he?

The kiss had lingered on your lips. The taste of Loki absorbing into cracks of delicate skin like water in thirsty soil. Nobody knew where the god had disappeared to in the early hours, allegedly.

What's more, they didn't seem surprised.

It had been another two hours before Loki returned holding a string of thoroughly deceased rabbits.

He stalked through the front door, turning abruptly into the kitchen and lowering them to the dining table with a macabre series of thumps.

“Holy Moses-” Steve scoffed disapprovingly, folding his arms.

The kettle began to whistle on the stove as Loki paraded to the cupboard. He pulled out a mug sporting a large yellow bear with an eyepatch.

“I saw no reason why our ‘education’ need be stifled by a mild weather-tantrum” he drawled, gesturing to the window before plucking a teabag from the tin. He glanced back to you as you leant against the kitchen doorframe. His eyes narrowed. There was no hint there of what had passed between you only hours before. It made you sad. But not surprised. “Don’t you agree, Agent?” he purred. Thor emerged by your shoulder.

“What the-?” his eyes fell on the limp pile of fur adorning the plastic tablecloth; gasping sharply. “Hodorekorn, brother?” His excitement was electric. Loki shook his head. “Alas, no brother. Rabbits. But much the same to ensnare.” The god tilted his head as he poured from the kettle, throwing Steve a wink. “See, Rogers?” he smirked. “I am not completely useless.”

Thor’s arm stretched above your head, pressing his hand against the frame. “It took you four hours to capture five hodorekorn?” He chuckled wrly. “Rusty indeed, brother.” “Rabbits.” Loki corrected, stirring his tea.

Steve swallowed, eyeing the bundle. “What are we supposed to do with ‘em?” he said, regretting the words as soon as they were spoken. “Skin them, and cook them of course!” Thor’s boom filled the tiny kitchen.

Steve gagged.

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread. Loki’s eyes met yours, giving the smallest nod. “Yeah, we can do that” you said, “good thinking Thor. Steve? How about you take the first one? Dealer’s choice.”

Steve clapped a hand to his mouth, pushing Thor into you in a hasty sprint to the bathroom. Dry wretches followed as the three remaining Avengers descended into laughter.

Tears streamed down Thor’s face while you doubled over, clinging to his forearm. Even Loki’s demure overtures of mirth rumbled across the linoleum, although you were certain that it was the sight of you and his brother that was the cause rather than the captain’s overdramatic heaves. Just like the old days, you thought with a pang. Thor wiped his face, catching his breath while there was a pause in the theatrics from the bathroom. For a moment, silence. And then... ‘Heuuuuuurgh-’

You and Thor looked at each other with simultaneous disbelief, the following whoop of laughter utterly uncontrollable. Loki took a sip of tea before placing it down, walking silently to the table. He tilted the chin of a rabbit towards him, frowning.

“We really should skin these brother,” he said sharply, “they will lose succulence otherwise.” You looked up through misty eyes, the release making you forget everything else. Loki had bristled, his mood altered somehow. Thor caught his breath beside you, panting heavily. “I- I can show you how,” you gasped as you wiped a trail from your eyes. Loki waved a dismissive hand. “No need. My brother and I are not quite as incapable as Rogers would have you believe.” Thor’s brow furrowed, shaking his head lightly in your direction. Don’t mind him, it said. “Outside or inside?” you asked, reaching for your jacket on the hall hook. It was still wet. “Outside,” Loki said with finality. His eyes flew to your hand, resting on the anorak. “Your presence is not required, Agent. My brother and I are perfectly capable, as I said.” He shot a piercing glance to Thor. The blonde swallowed.

“Uhhh...yes. Indeed, yes – brother, lead the way.” Loki breezed between you, stooping gently at the door-frame as a slick waxed Barbour unfurled over his lithe body. It hung to his thighs, the taut curve of his muscled ass shifting. The ghost of his knuckles grazed your palm as he passed. Accidentally, you were sure.

Thor lingered by the coat-hooks, shoving an arm brutishly through the sleeve of a particularly beaten-looking yellow raincoat. The material creaked menacingly as he hoisted it up his biceps.

There’s no way that is zipping closing, you thought – half watching the outline of Loki pacing towards the small hut at the edge of the cottage boundary.

Thor threw a look over his shoulder, checking Loki was out of earshot. He tugged the sides of the raincoat down. The edges lined perfectly with his nipples. Rain fell vertically outside the open door, a gush from the awning gutter pooling around the doorstep.

“He probably wishes to recount his version of what happened last night,” Thor said in hushed tones. Hushed for him, anyway. “What do you-” Thor waved a hand, eyes closed to your protestation. “Sister, please – the neighbours over yonder valley likely heard the commotion my brother’s intransigence provoked. Rogers and I heard everything.” The strap of your backpack hanging on the rack suddenly became very interesting.

“I’m not your sister, not anymore. Never was – technically” you heard yourself say, avoiding his inquiring eyes.

Pursing your lips, you scratched a nail down the strap’s weave. Thor squeaked as he shuffled closer, constrained arms wrapping around your shoulders with difficulty.

Breath heaved from your lungs as he pulled you tight. “You’ll always be my sister, sister” he smiled, resting his chin on your hair.

“If these last decades taught me anything, it is that blood relation is the least important quality.” He placed a kiss on top of your head. “Now, I must depart, and entertain my brother’s lukewarm justification for his boorishness.”

He turned, throwing a ridiculous pointed yellow hood up with a flourish.

“And skin some rabbits, of course” he projected loudly, throwing you a calculated wink. From behind the bathroom door, Steve wretched again.

Loki flung the rabbits on the small bench squeezed in the corner of the hut. A ragged door hung from its hinges. If he wasn’t sure it would disintegrate, he would have slammed it. He didn’t know what to think.

Growth, he surmised, was becoming more trouble than it was worth.

He pushed his hair back from his face, the wet slick that met his hand more familiar now than he would like.

“That was rude, Loki” Thor rumbled, shaking himself like a dog in the doorway. “Hardly,” Loki snapped, casting a disparaging look in the speaker’s direction. He felt a snarl curl at the corners of his mouth at the sight of his brother spilling from the tiny yellow raincoat. “And you look ridiculous.” Loki sat abruptly on the bench, turning his attention to the rabbits. He divided them out. Three for himself, two for Thor. His brother was slower. Always had been. “It was rude,” Thor repeated, squeezing himself to the bench on the other side of the sad bundle. Loki slid a small hunting knife over in silence. Hadn’t used them in years, he realised.

Not years, Loki thought. Centuries.

Perhaps more. The shuffle of fur coming skilfully away from muscle rustled the air.

“You’ll never win her back being like that, you know” Thor murmured, drawing the knife respectfully around the rabbit’s hindquarters. Loki scoffed in spite of himself.

“Who says I wish to win her back?” he huffed, laying the first completed rabbit on a clean cloth by his side. Despite stoic intent, he found himself looking up to meet his brother’s incredulous stare.

“What?” Loki said sharply.

Thor released a theatrical shrug, rabbit swinging. “Oh I don’t know brother-” he started, laden with sarcasm.

“Something about your perpetual hangdog expression, insufferable lovelorn mooning and thwarted midnight attempts at seduction led me to believe there could perhaps be something more at play.” He tapped the half-skinned rabbit against his temple. “Not just a helmet-hold, brother” he drawled.

“It was barely ten pm,” Loki muttered petulantly, busying his hands. They continued in silence, before Thor cleared his throat. “What did you wish to speak to me about, if not that?” “It was that, you cretin. But I wish not to discuss it anymore.” “Your feelings for her?” “They have never been in question, brother. You know that.” “Yes.” “Well.” Loki snapped with finality. “Well?” “Her feelings towards me. Her concerns, the ones that broke us...she was, right.” He faltered, grateful for the pause Thor held while he gathered his thoughts. “She told me I was hurting her, and I cared not. And I know not why. At the time, her protestations seemed unreasonable.”

The confession hung around his neck like a ceremonial amulet. Heavy, powerful. “And now?” his brother probed quietly, concentrating on his work.

“Who am I, Thor?” Loki whispered, peeling the fur back from the delicate soul in his hands before stopping. “Who am I if not who I have been for centuries? Millennia?”

“People change, Loki” Thor said quietly, reaching for his brother’s hand. Loki looked up, brows peaked softly.

“But brother, we are not ‘people’. Are we?” Thor was silent. Sympathy swam in the depths of his eyes, darkened by the gloom of the cabin. Rain hit the roof. Loki was glad of it, filling the empty silence. “I’m trying,” was all Loki could muster.

“I’ve noticed,” Thor replied cautiously. “As has she, I suspect. But the palace of Asgard was not built in a day.” “She kissed me,” Loki hummed quietly, staring at the bundle in his lap. “This morning.” “Ah,” his brother hummed mysteriously.

The blonde drew his hand away from where it sat atop Loki’s. He flipped the knife, inspecting the ornate handle. “Do you remember when father gave us these?” he said thoughtfully, a smile stretching across his face. Loki frowned, gazing at his own knife. “The summer with the-” “- Haugan sisters.” They both paused, sighing simultaneously at the wall. Thor shook his head, waving nostalgia from the air. “Father said that they symbolised our transition to maturity. Protection, sustenance, a connection to our roots Loki.” Loki closed his eyes, summoning the memory. The grass was long that endless summer, a log cabin with a stone chimney that dwarfed the exterior. A cabin that had no right to be where it was – and yet, “Loki?” He opened his eyes, meeting his brother’s. In that moment, they could have been three-hundred again.

The blonde god flipped the knife back to position. “Your problem, brother, is that you spend too much time worrying about what you think you should be, rather than what you are.” “And what am I, brother?” Loki bristled, laying his second rabbit down by the side.

“Someone who’s afraid to be loved” Thor said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled the final tug of fur from his charge. “Ah-Ha!” he smiled, turning. “Thank you,” Loki said quietly, cradling the offering and placing it with the others.

“All she wants,” Thor murmured, his concentration fixed on the second rabbit in his lap, “is you. The real you. The one that I know. But maybe one who listens better. And not the mural version, or the lore from battle tales...” He paused, before a sly grin stretched his lips. “Well, perhaps sometimes...if you catch my drift.”

"What if he is not enough?" Loki whispered. He wasn't sure if Thor heard him.

His brother's face had become serious again. He was on a roll. “To feel that your lover sees himself as superior to you in every way? Takes any opportunity to remind one of that? To never try to adapt to a reasonable request? I can see how it can become tiresome.” He shook his head, frowning. “Mother would never have put up with that nonsense. Why should she?”

“Indeed,” Loki muttered softly. He placed his third rabbit to the side as a sigh rattled his chest. His brother was making far too much sense for his liking these days. “Fear not, brother” Thor rumbled as he leant over, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I have a cunning plan. A kiss this morning is most welcome news.” “It was a strange situation. She knew not what she did- it would not have ended well, it-”

Loki’s eyes widened in horror, realisation blossoming. “A cunning what-?” There was a knock on the hut door.

Suddenly, Loki realised that the rain had stopped. Your face popped around the corner. Loki straightened, wiping his hands on his Barbour.

“Steve and I are driving into town” you said, casting glances between the gods sitting hunched on the rotten bench. “Want to come?” Thor propped his fists beneath his chin, smiling obscenely. “Oh, please, brother!?” Loki thought about rolling his eyes, before stopping himself. He pursed his lips instead. “Certainly. Although I am surprised considering-” “We’ll be ‘undercover’, obviously” you cut with air-quotes, glancing backwards. “Apparently Steve needs something from the shops. He seems a bit flustered. The nearest one is pretty small but…” Your head disappeared again, only delicate fingers remaining curled around the door’s ragged edge. He had the sudden urge to protect them from rogue splinters. Loki frowned, noting an impish smile had worryingly taken up residence on his brother's face. “-Yes, I’ll...yes I’ll tell them.” Loki and Thor looked to each other warily, before you appeared again. “Steve says wash your hands,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “And lose the yellow slicker” you nodded to Thor.

From the assortment of abandoned jackets hanging bushel-like in the hallway, they had managed to find one for Thor that wasn’t quite as conspicuous. The 3XL puffer jacket spread around him like a navy cloud.

Steve turned abruptly, eyeing Thor and Loki in the back of the Fiat. A hiss squeezed from the puffer every time Thor fidgeted. “Where am I supposed to put my legs?” Loki muttered scathingly. “This thing has gotten smaller since the drive here.” Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Speaking of magic-” he said, taking his time. “It seems that some of my personal items have gone missing.” Loki glanced at his brother, brows peaked as Steve continued. Thor’s gaze wandered out the window, following a passing bird. “We need to pick up some supplies, like bacon – that’s the cover with her,” he thumbed backwards, “since someone ate the whole week's ration.” Steve’s judgemental gaze swung towards a distracted Thor.

“But on the sly, keep your peepers open for some…” he cast a wary glance out the front windscreen, seeing you locking up the cottage. “-Unmentionables.” “Condoms?” Loki quipped factitiously. Steve flushed. “No, Laufeyson” he hissed, tone frantic as you crunched towards the car. “Rogers underwear has mysteriously vanished, brother” Thor chuckled. “One minute they were lined up in the suitcase, all thirty-six pairs. The next-” he made a whooshing gesture. “Thirty-six?” Loki mouthed incredulously. “Christ, Rogers. Did you intend on soiling yourself thrice daily?” The god twisted towards his smirking brother. “What did you do to them?” “Me? Tis not I who suspicion has fallen on, brother” Thor gasped, pressing his fingers innocently to his chest. Loki rolled his eyes, and this time – he meant it. “Well it wasn’t me.” Loki huffed, folding his arms as Steve’s stare pinballed between them. “I have better things to do. And besides, what fetid joy would I gain from such a waste of-”

You pulled the car handle with a jerk, noting all three men inside bristle and straighten in a way that could be considered nothing short of suspicious.

“Everything okay?” you murmured, settling into the driver’s seat. They nodded in silence.

Thor’s jacket hissed.

“That better not be a parp, Odinson” Steve muttered, followed by the low buzz of a lowering window. You adjusted the mirror, meeting Loki’s eyes and quickly looking away. “Okay,” you sighed to yourself. “Let’s do this.”

The comforting Tesco Express sign glowed in mid-afternoon gloom.

It was barely three, and yet it may as well be sundown. Clouds still smothered the sky, hanging low and ominous over the town’s uneven rooftops. You pulled into a parking spot outside, thanking the powers that be it was quiet. Steve cleared his throat, digging into the breast of his raincoat. He produced four mismatched caps, jamming one low on his brow before handing out the rest. “I don’t think I need to remind you to exercise caution. Don’t be suspicious. Don’t draw attention to yourself, and if anyone asks – we’re just four pals from out of town here for some good ol’ fashioned cottaging.” You wrinkled your nose. “That doesn’t mean what you-” “May we begin this expedition so that it might end sooner?” Loki drawled. With no warning, Thor farted.

The captain’s eyes widened. “Get out...get out!” he gagged. It was the fastest evacuation of a hatchback you had ever witnessed. Thor was last, his cheeks pink. “All the bacon,” he explained sheepishly while pushing the seat forward. You took Thor’s arm, letting the puff of his jacket warm your chilled fingers. While the god’s wide eyes inspected the snack chiller inside the door, you saw a non-nonchalant Loki meander straight to the checkout followed by a jumpy Steve.

The captain hung back, picking up a packet of gingerbread men and inspecting it over a pair of sunglasses.

Loki drummed his fingers on the counter, smiling wryly as a member of staff appeared from the back. “Hi, with you in one second-” they said, holding up a finger before disappearing again. Loki murmured pleasantries, adjusting the cap holding the stuff of his hair. “What are you doing?!” Steve hissed. Loki caught a musty waft of his own waxed jacket as he turned, shooting Rogers a perishing glare.

“You’re the one that has us looking as though we intend to rob the place. Hush,” Loki hissed back. Steve snapped back to the nutritional information as the Tesco worker re-surfaced. “Sorry about that,” they said.

Loki released a dazzling forced smile. “Do you happen to have any mens undergarments in this” he raised his palms, searching for an accurate descriptor, “place?” The man on the other side of the counter frowned. “Like, underwear? No...you’d need to go to one of the bigger stores for that kind of thing.” Loki stared at him. “There’s one in Millom?” the man added nervously, making the sides of Loki’s eyes crinkle before his features softened. “I see,” he purred, tilting his head. “How unfortunate.” “Anything else I can help with?” the mortal asked. Loki sighed thoughtfully, rocking on his heels.

“One package of,” he squinted at the shelf behind the counter. “Durex Extra Safe, if you would.” The heat from Steve’s cheeks radiated the short distance from the bakery display. There was the squeak of a shoe, the telling crack of biscuit as the captain’s sensibilities floundered. Behind the counter, the man turned without a second thought, reaching up before glancing back. “Pack of three or pack of twelve?” he asked.

Loki smirked. “Pack of three or pack of twelve, darling?” he crooned to Steve, whose face had flushed an alarming shade of beetroot. He turned back to face the cashier. “Pack of twelve.” Loki winked.

You couldn’t hear what what transpiring at the check-out, but the shade of Steve’s skin gave the distinct impression it wasn’t on script. The oblivious shop worker reached up, bringing down a box and handing it to Loki who parted with a crisp twenty pound note. Where did he get cash, you thought; before realising what the box was. Are those...

“Agent, look-” Thor exclaimed beside you as he held out an oblong package. “Party Rings,” he said smugly, “If ever there was a snack made for I, tis this – surely.” You muttered a quick uh-huh, stalking down the aisle to where blustery Steve was busying himself picking up a random assortment of foodstuffs piled high in his arms. “Steve?” you said warily as you removed three packets of bacon and a tub of yoghurt. It revealed his face, still flushed and sweaty.

“Laufeyson bought...prophylactics,” Steve rasped as his eyes darted around the empty aisle.

“I saw,” you responded sympathetically while the captain shook his head. “In broad daylight too” he added, narrowing his eyes over your shoulder.

The increasingly erotic scent of waxed Barbour jacket filled your nostrils. “Got everything?” your ex quipped. Steve’s lips flapped, forming words that didn’t come. He released a goose-like hiss instead. You quickly unloaded the rest of the groceries from his hands, spilling them into Thor’s basket just as he parked himself beside you. “What’s happening?” Thor said. Crumbs from a ravaged pack of Party Rings clung to his beard. Loki continued, unperturbed.

“I’m sorry they didn’t have your unmentionables, Rogers. But nevermind – not a totally wasted trip.” He tossed the box of condoms to Steve who caught them out of instinct. “Oh, Extra Safe – excellent choice,” Thor rumbled far too loudly. “And a necessity, for my brother and I – nothing else seems to hold the force of our seed without making quite the mess-” he cast a knowing glance to you. “She knows,” he winked. Steve looked between the gods, aghast. Thor produced a chicken drumstick from his pocket, taking a casual bite. “Are you the same, Rogers?” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “I imagine you must be with all that super-whatjit-serum business.” There was silence. “Oh, right” Thor laughed awkwardly. “Well, you never know...this trip might be the one.” He slapped Steve on the back, chortling.

“Stop calling me Rogers…” Rogers whispered. He looked like he was in shock, staring at the pack of twelve condoms in his hands. “Someone might…” Steve’s face paled as catastrophic images fell into place inside his head. A picture of him on the homepage of every gossip site there was, holding a box of French Letters in Tesco Express like a pervert. He stuffed them in his pocket.

“Let’s pay for this stuff and go.” he said firmly.

“Excuse me?” a voice creaked from further up the aisle. The four of you broke your huddle, battle-stances activated.

An old man shuffled closer, the tap of his walking stick echoing on the polished floor. “What should we do, Agent?” Thor muttered out the corner of his mouth. Your face softened, looking the geriatric up and down. “He’s clean, just an old dude,” you said. Steve tutted beside you. “Could be a disguise.” “A disguise?!” you hissed. “Excuse me, are you-” the old man started, before stopping in a haze of coughing. You began to step towards him, but Steve’s arm flew out to stop you. Four sets of eyes watched the man pick up pace, rubber end of his cane tap tap tapping on the floor as his crinkled gaze widened. It swept between the tall figures before him. Recognition. “Code Amber. Breach. Do something normal,” Steve whispered in panic. Without missing a beat, Thor lifted a sandwich carton from the basket and held in front of his face.

You turned, colliding with Loki’s chest. “Follow my lead,” he growled as he yanked you around the end of the aisle.

Before you could protest, he had you caged against a row of toilet paper. Matt plastic packaging cushioned the back of your head while Loki’s forearm pressed against the face of a sweet looking puppy. “This is normal... isn’t it?” Loki breathed, eyes flickering nervously from your shocked expression to where Steve was checking the expiry date on milk.

You stared up at him, fighting the urge to inhale deeply against the hollow of his neck with all your strength. Pine and smoked cedarwood and that fucking wax jacket. Loki's throat bobbed, working anxiously as the elderly gentleman bypassed the strange man holding a sandwich in front of his eyes. He was gaining on Steve. He's actually worried, you realised. “Move, Rogers” Loki grit, frowning as the intruder finally tapped an undercover captain on the shoulder. The god's eyes widened earnestly. It made you want to sink onto your knees.

The bow of Loki’s jawline was strained, veins tight and pulsing like they did when he was about to cum down your throat; his eyes pleading and needy, mouth open and- You swallowed. Letting your fingers clasp around the rough material of his open jacket, you tugged it gently. “It’s just an old man,” you whispered. Loki tilted his head, seemingly just realising the position he had manoeuvred you into. A gulp made his throat stiffen, then relax.

“Two old men,” he hummed, mirth warming his eyes. You smiled, and so did he.

Loki shuffled closer, his breath mingling with yours. He glanced towards the scene unfolding one aisle over, wetted lips hovering dangerously close to your own.

“Update,” he purred playfully, “the decrepit man has asked Rogers to get something from a high shelf. He has obliged.”

You pursed your lips with an approving nod, hoping Loki couldn’t smell the adrenaline seeping through your pores. “And my brother is still the village madman.”

A giggle escaped you, before the pad of Loki’s index finger smothered it gently. He leant close, your foreheads touching conspiratorially as silent laughter made his chest shake. His mouth creased in a soft smile, rolling the bottom lip beneath the top. “Shhh, you’ll get us in trouble,” he murmured in a way that made your soul leave your body. You wondered if he was hardening beneath his trousers right now. He would have, before. Maybe – if last night was anything to go by. But your awkward kiss this morning flashed back with frightening clarity, the hard look in his eyes as he said the only word that ever seemed to matter. Go. Don't be an idiot, you thought bitterly. Your hands slipped from their rest on his jacket, catching briefly on his belt. Loki watched them fall.

“Me in trouble,” he corrected, face stiffening. You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Thor’s face peered around the corner, a half eaten ploughman’s sandwich in his grasp. “Time to leave before Rogers goes into cardiac arrest,” he chuckled, nudging his head towards Steve loitering jerkily by the door.

“Can you pay for these?” Thor said, holding out the basket. Empty packets lay nestled amongst the survivors. “You’re the least famous.” You rolled your eyes, nodding up towards Loki. “That sounds like something he would say,” you quipped without thinking. Loki’s brow furrowed. He let the protective arm resting above your head fall without a second glance, striding the long way around towards the exit. Thor took another bite of sandwich. He shrugged, before following his brother. But he didn’t, you thought with a stab of guilt as the three of them disappeared into the street.

The glow of the Fiat’s lock lights flashed. He didn’t.

--> Continued in Chapter Five, A Cunning Plan

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[goatyuuji]

AND I AM BACK TO THE FIC REC GRIND BABY...Hope you enjoy them and give love to all the authors <3

Short fics:

he slips in to relieve the pain by weeb_grass (M, 3.3k, Complete)

Yuuji cannot sleep now that he's got another soul picking at him from within his own mind. Megumi keeps replaying the moment Sukuna ripped his friend's heart out. Both find ways to cope with the pain of emotional manipulation. "You stupid boy, Sukuna whispered into the deep crevices of Yuuji’s heart. You stupid, love-sick boy."

My Love Mine All Mine by darlingscurse (T, 8.1k, Complete)

“Not to worry, Yoshino,” Gojo announces brightly and while Megumi can’t see his eyes he feels them flicker to him for the smallest fraction of a second and something in his stomach drops. Oh no. “I just know what to do. Don’t you worry about that, your teacher has it all figured out!” Megumi opens his mouth, impending doom hanging over his head like a storm cloud, but by then it’s already too late, lightning has already struck. Gojo, the biggest ass in human history, flashes thumbs up in the round and then goes: “I’m sure our brightest little shikigami user would love to help you.” (or: Yuji comes back from the dead, comes back from the dead with a shiny new friend and Megumi is totally cool with that. Everything's peachy. Really.) PS: this one for all the people (me) who LOVEE Megumi absolutely loathing Junpei for no reason except the fact Yuuji befriends him (sorry Junpei)

kiss me not him by tamarsilan (T, 9.4k , Complete)

Still, her mouth had nearly hung open in shock at the news. “Junpei and I are dating,” Itadori had said with a smile on her face, holding up her and Yoshino’s intertwined hands. In their shared college dorm, Yoshino’s socked toes had dragged against their carpet, unsure. Fushiguro had been glad that she was sitting at the time. Between her hands the bunny-adorned coffee mug, Itadori had made her, threatened to shatter Or: Fushiguro Megumi and the five stages of grief

Conbini Kisses by Anonymous (T, 2.1k, Complete)

Itadori’s anger, Megumi can deal with. His silence, however, is torture. ————— Now they’ve reconnected, Fushiguro and Itadori have a much needed conversation.

The Brotherly Code by awkwardtypeos (T, 2.8k, Complete)

He sighs heavily, and looks his best friend dead in the eye, and finally delivers the news. “You cannot court Fushiguro. He is not worthy of you. I must ask you to put a stop to this.” Itadori blinks at him once, twice, several times, and then absolutely squawks, high-pitched and certainly not manly, “W-what do you mean? Todo that’s-that’s none of your business!"

sweet disposition by Nicolefrickle (T, 3.1k, Complete)

Itadori needs touched, and Megumi needs to heal

Long Fics:

you may bury my body by movequickly (M, 32.9k, Complete)

In all the worst ways, Yuji is just like Suguru. PS: I could not sleep for 3 whole days after reading this...this fic is intense i won't lie, the gojo and yuuji scenes are hard to swallow, gojo and geto scenes even more but all in all this also feels like a love letter to Yuuji

Saving You by earthtodora (T, 73k, Ongoing)

Yuji dies in the battle against Sukuna in Shinjuku. When he wakes up in the infirmary, he finds that he's in the past, before the events of the Culling Game, and the Shibuya Incident. Yuji must try to avoid making the same mistakes, and find a way to defeat the King of Curses and save the people he cares about. But first, he must find a way to deal with his own trauma and come to terms with the future he left behind. --- "Sensei," Yuji spoke up suddenly, snapping Gojo out of his thoughts. Gojo looked over at him. "Yes, Yuji?" "I want you to kill me."

tears of a tiger (there is no night without dawn) by rugbratz (T, 53.9k, Completed)

Yuuji understands that most people in his situation would be excited for the promise of tomorrow and what it may bring. But that’s not him. Yuuji can’t even begin to explain the conglomeration of emotions that he feels, but he knows that all of them are horrible and that he’s not ready. He never is.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Drugs HCs

Warnings: alcohol, marijuana, pills, nicotine

@ninnosaurus inspired me, so here's a few headcanons about the boys relationships to intoxicants.

Leo

Alcohol.

Doesn't drink much. A cup of sake with Dad on special occasions, and occasionally he'll have a glass of wine with April if he's over at their apartment, but it slows him down and makes him feel like too many things are out of his control.

Nicotine.

Keeps a pack of cigarettes squirreled away in a hollowed out brick on the roof of the garage. Occasionally, he'll stay out late on patrol and smoke while watching the sunrise before heading inside. Raphael will sometimes join him, especially when they're trying to work something out, either interpersonally or with a mission. Don and Mikey don't know.

Marijuana.

Never. It dulls his senses and makes him slow, sending his anxiety through the roof. Paranoia is a real problem when he smokes weed, so he just doesn't. He also HATES the smell.

Other/Misc.

Used to look at addicts with contempt as weak and lazy, until he got stuck by a needle while stopping a mugging. He never found out what was in that needle, and he wishes he could forget what it felt like, because there's a part of him that would hunt down every dealer in the city to feel that way again. Now he makes a point to drop addicts off in front of rehab facilities instead of police stations.

Raph

Alcohol.

He'll drink pretty much whatever. When given the choice, he's a whiskey guy. Usually neat unless he's got company.

Nicotine.

Had a pretty bad habit as a teen, gave Leo his first cigarette, but has since kicked it. Occasionally he'll have a cigarette with Leo before bed or by himself after a particularly satisfying ass-kicking, but it's by no means a habit.

Marijuana.

Hell. Yes. You mean he *doesn't* have to be in a fuckton of pain, *and* he can get his mind to shut the fuck up for a little while? He doesn't get to do it often, but he'll smoke if he has a night off, or he'll head down the south tunnels and smoke with Mikey if he notices little bro's depression is getting the best of him. He's not shy about smoking in his room. Especially if he's trying to annoy Leo.

Other/Misc.

The healthist of the four when it comes to substances. As a teen, he had a minor substance problem, but he grew out of that. Tried pills once, hoping they would help with his pain, and ended up puking in the bathroom for three hours. He decided the pain was better. Also takes a LOT for anything to effect him.

Donnie

Alcohol.

Microbrews. He makes his own.

Nicotine.

Occasionally. He'll bum one off Raph when he's really stressed out.

Marijuana.

He and Mikey are working on developing a strain that is strong enough for them to not have to smoke an entire bowl, it's more of a brotherly pet project than anything else. He has to test each batch to keep records, of course. Beyond that, he'll occasionally smoke in the lab when he wants to get more creative than logical with what he's working on.

Other/Misc.

Adderall. RARELY, but he keeps a bottle in the lab. He hates the crash, but sometimes his brain just wants to focus on too many things at once, and he needs to work on something important.

Mikey

Alcohol.

Keeps a bottle of Jameson in his room for the nights when his depression is just too loud, so he can drink himself unconscious. It usually takes more than the bottle. Sometimes he's tired enough that he gets lucky. Outside of that he drinks occasionally, but really doesn't like the taste.

Nicotine.

Hates the taste of cigarettes, but owns a hooka and has a great shisha supplier on tap. Will occasionally host hookah sessions with appetizers and drinks when he's feeling super social. Even Splinter joins them occasionally.

Marijuana.

Yes.

Other/Misc.

Has, by far, the most unhealthy relationship with substances and has tried most of the party drugs out there. However, he's got hard limits on the harder drugs. LSD is by far his favorite, but he only takes it once every couple of months.

Bonus! Splinter

Alcohol.

Sake on special occasions, but he really likes this fizzy lemonade drink Michaelangelo handed him once while at a party. Occasionally one happens to appear in, and then disappear from, the refrigerator. The boys don't ask questions.

Nicotine.

Cigarettes are a hard no. The smell sticks to his fur and he hates it. If the boys smoke he makes them shower as soon as they come inside. He will, however smoke hookah with company when he's feeling up to it.

Marijuana.

Mikey convinced him to try it for his arthritis. He smokes in the evening before bed. Leo doesn't say anything.

Other/Misc.

He knows. Of course he knows. However, he only recently discovered Michelangelo's drinking problem. He is currently meditating on the best way to approach him about it.

...

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @footninja

[solar-wing]

⚣ Therapist BatBro 👓

⚣👓 A/N → Therpist BatBro makes his debut. The second pic is honestly what I feel a therapy session in the Wayne family would look like. This is from another request I got from my previous account.

⚣👓 Summary → Your family isn't pleased with your new hobby or group of friends. But, somehow you've made it a business. Gotta respect the hustle at least.

⚣👓 Words → 2.3k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 👓

⚣ ENJOY 👓

The way I see it, you're either a vigilante with the fam and all the villains just seem to like you for some reason and ask where you are during a battle OR you're not a vigilante and you volunteer at Arkham (which would be absolutely insane but it's Arkham so it breaks even) and everyone there is cool with you. Even the Joker (which won't fly well with Jason at all).

We're going to go with the second option for this one.

So, since Bruce was adamant about you not joining the family business as a vigilante since you were the youngest and he had an unyielding urge to protect you and your childhood innocence, you needed to find something to do in your free time.

What better than to volunteer at a crazy house for psychopathic murdering villains?

Of course, considering Arkham was filled mainly with criminals your father had put there along with your siblings, it probably wouldn’t be wise to do that since they’d obviously wouldn’t approve.

SO, you did it anyway and just didn't tell them.

BatBro contemplating...

Duke was the first to find out. Batman had supplies Arkham needed but since he was at work and Duke always took the day shift as everyone liked to joke, who better to drop it off than him? Imagine his surprise when he finds his baby bro in there serving ice cream to Mr. Freeze.

"Here ya go Fries, my man. I sprinkled some ice shavings on there to make it a little tangier for you..." You said handing him the cone.

"Ha ha ha, aren't you hilarious." Victor Fries replied with a genuine smile. As far as The Signal persona knew, he was only capable of smirking or mean-mugging the shit of people, with the exception of an occasional shivering face while mocking someone for how cold they were.

'Oh, they're not gonna believe this...' Duke thought, racing home right after. The way he left the institution, the guards almost thought there was a breakout or a fight going on. Nope, but there might be when he told everyone.

Of course, no one believed him at first, just staring at the dude as if he just said the craziest thing in the world like Bruce being an emotionally available parent.

When you came home that night acting cagey and weirder than normal, they figured something was going on and maybe you were at Arkham but for something completely different than what Duke thought it could be. Because, there would be no way Bruce Wayne’s, aka Batman, own son would ever even consider fraternizing with criminals, let alone his enemies. Right?

So, like any other sane, normal family who responded to distressing situations with maturity and rationality... they spied on you.

Damian, Tim, & Cass followed you the next day. Tim was understandably distraught but also curious how you could have managed to form a friendship with Gotham's criminally insane.

Like...THEY WERE INSANE. But, when he really thought about it, considering the family you came from...yeah, okay. He can see the correlation now.

Damian, however, refused to believe his little brother could be so stupid and dense. How could you form relations with the enemy like that? It was stupidity. Plain idiocy at its finest. It was betrayal!

On the other hand, it was a smart move looking from an assassin's point of view. You know the whole keep your friends close and enemies closer deal, but that was his thing. Not yours! So you'd be getting extra noogies and brotherly beatdowns when you got home. In the name of camaraderie and righting your careless decisions.

Cass thought it was fucking hilarious.

Upon their arrival and finding you trading riddle jokes with Riddler, their jaws all collectively dropped to the floor.

"Okay, okay okay..." You breathed, calming down from your wheezing laughter. "Riddle me this...I'm neither a man nor a woman but don't hurt my wittle feelings cause I'm still a person. I'll kick you and scream at you, even both during a tantrum. My ego's bigger than my head but shorter than my height, who am I?"

Riddler took a moment to think about it before the metaphorical lightbulb appeared above his head, "Boy Wonder!" He pointed.

"Which one?" You immediately responded.

"The fourth one!"

"Yes!"

Tim and Cass both had to think about it before they realized the clues in the riddle. They're eyes went wide when they realized who you were talking about, and turned to see Damian who looked ready to tear your head off with his teeth.

"He's in for it when he gets home..." He growled through his grinding teeth.

Damian pissed (Left) | Tim & Cass (Right)

Everyone was mildly concerned when they came home that night and asked them how everything went only for Damian's immediate response to be that he was going to get his revenge sketchbook.

Why Damian has a revenge sketchbook, no one knows. But, everyone was just the right amount unsettled by it.

That night at dinner there was a bit of a tense air as Damian had to be placed between both Bruce and Jason to keep him from lunging at you with his salad fork. Usually, you were used to Damian’s somewhat murderous tantrums, but this was on another level.

He almost looked like he would grow horns out of his head at any moment, which would actually be somewhat fitting. Considering he was the grandson of the Demon and all.

You also noticed how Tim and Cass kept weirdly staring at you. Neither of them said something, which was odd(well except maybe for Cass), but you just ignored it and ate your dinner.

That night, you put some of your old booby traps from when you first moved into the manor back into place. You needed some sort of reassurance and protection to help you sleep. At many points throughout the night, you shot out of bed and grabbed one of the many random weapons you had hidden around you when you thought you heard someone trying to sneak into your room.

Damian definitely tried but had learned his lesson after the last time he got caught in one of your traps. You took a lot of inspiration from movies like Home Alone and The Parent Trap.

The next day, Dick and Steph went to check out the mental institution insane asylum.

Steph also thought it was funny like Cass but in a more ironic type of way. She’d rooted for you to get your own vigilante identity and join the family business. So this was like the ultimate petty revenge and she was here for it.

But Dick just couldn't imagine you in a place like this. His sweet adorable baby brother, in this horrid mess? He was calling it, either blackmail or manipulation. A rude awakening was awaiting him around the corner.

They looked to see you in the middle of practicing a handshake with Bane.

"No Bane, fist bump, then the arm wiggle..." You said, showing him the move for the 4th time.

"Oh sorry buddy," He replied.

"No problem man, let's try again."

They watched you go through the whole routine, Steph taking a video on her phone while Dick looked in surprise and jealousy. How come you and him didn't have a handshake like that? Every little brother should want to have a cool handshake with their cool big brother! Was he not good enough?!

Steph laughing in petty (Left) | Dick breaking down (Right)

When Dick stormed into the manor later muttering about showing you a real handshake, Bruce only raised an eyebrow when Steph walked in looking thoroughly entertained like she just watched the funniest show of her life. It certainly felt like it.

That afternoon, Dick gave you the cold shoulder all day. He even canceled your weekly brother movie night, which shocked everyone, especially your dad. What could have been so bad that would cause Bruce’s first protege to treat his kid brother like this? The same kid who he’d absolutely lose it if they went to anyone other than him for advice or would pout if he didn’t get the first hug from him when in a room full of people.

Of course, he still cracked when you gave him the hurt puppy dog eyes (a trick you learned from Jason that he used to use on Bruce all the time when he was younger). Dick caved and you guys ended up watching a movie, though you were mildly concerned whenever your oldest brother paused the movie and took the time to highlight the friendship and connection between two characters, especially if they were siblings.

Something like a special code, an inside joke, or even maybe a HANDSHAKE. What does it say about a big brother if his little brother doesn’t want to have a cool special handshake with him?!

Subtle.

You just nodded along, making a mental note to avoid any family-oriented films for your next movie night.

But, after this incident, you’d fully managed to get Bruce’s attention. He knew that Dick out of all his children was usually the least likely to get irate over something that wasn’t serious. So the fact that he did, despite how unserious it may have seemed, but it was settled.

Something was going on and your dad, no…Batman was going to get to the bottom of it.

Jason decided to come along with your father, fully prepared to drag you out of the building by force if he had to. He even went as far as calling your boyfriend Conner Kent, aka Superboy, who he and Bruce had a love/hate relationship with because they couldn't really threaten the boy like they wanted to if he hurt you.

Well, Jason couldn’t at least.

Bruce had more than enough kryptonite in multiple storages across his warehouse and had no problem showing it to the half-Kryptonian as a warning.

Conner was more than a little peeved, try fucking pissed when he heard you'd been hanging out with supervillains. And he as well was ready to sling you over his shoulder if he had to. But, probably not in front of your dad who kept throwing pointed glares his way as they moved through the building.

When Batman showed up demanding to see where the volunteer by your name was, they quickly rushed to show him to your location. He couldn't fathom this. The mere thought that his youngest child, his sweet, innocent (on a good day) good-natured son, would be hanging around all his enemies, laughing with them like they were good ol pals?

He'd sooner believe Joker was going to therapy.

The shock of his lifetime was also waiting for him around the corner.

They came around to see you through a window sitting in an office room in business casual attire, holding a clipboard and writing down notes while Joker was laying on a couch with his cuffed hands resting on his chest, venting out his emotions.

"And sometimes, I do feel like I go a bit far. But, I can't take all the blame. I mean, everyone paints me as the villain, but Batsy plays into our little game just as much as I do. Why does he get painted as the hero and me as a crazy clown? Well, you know, besides the clown face, HAHAHA!" He vented, ending with his usual eerie cackle.

"Uh-huh, and how does that make you feel?" You asked while scribbling a few notes on your legal pad and adjusting the fake glasses on your face before turning around at the sound of the door opening.

You felt your heart drop in your stomach when you saw your father, brother, and boyfriend all staring at you with very unhappy looks.

"BATSY! Oh, do come in! We were just talking about you. I think it's about time you and I got some relationship counseling." Joker exclaimed.

Not one word was said while Conner grabbed you by your wrists, (gently of course because he's caring like that) and dragged you out of the room, Jason not too far behind, ready to tear you a new one. Batman held his shoulder, while Joker just watched in amusement, "Guess my hour's up."

You, Bruce, and Jason arguing (Left) | Joker enjoying the show (Right)

You were immediately brought home after getting an earful from Jason to which you offered him his own free session.

He agreed.

Bruce demands to know why you would even consider going there, socializing with those people.

"Well, seeing as how I can't join the family business, I figured I could do some good in some way. And villains or not, they've got good in them! Just you know, when they're not trying to murder people." You answered.

You were interrupted by your other siblings appearing before you felt an arm forcibly turn you around which Conner raised an annoyed eyebrow at, but he kept his mouth shut.

"What does Bane have that I don't? Am I not good enough as an older brother to have a handshake with?"

You sighed, "Is that why you were so upset the other day?! Ugh, would you like to create a special handshake with me, Dick?"

" Yes! Super secret too! You can't have any handshakes with anybody else!" He hugged you while you patted his back.

Brothers could be so needy sometimes.

You could see your boyfriend eyeing you both with the strangest look. In your defense, he had plenty of warning of how weird your family was.

Before things could calm down too much though, everyone heard a shrill voice screaming your name from the top of the staircase.

"Y/N!"

"Fuck..." You muttered under your breath, before turning to see Tim and Cass giving you nervous looks.

“You were there with Riddler, weren’t you?”

They could barely look you in the eye as you turned to see Damian standing on the banister, holding one of your slippers in his hand.

"Who's short now?!" 

Alfred went to get the first aid kit.

Damian with your slipper...

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[swe3tte4rs]

" Like a cinnamon roll " - Batfam x Little Sister!Reader

Request: Can I request a batfamily hc with an adopted little batsis who is younger than Damian pls? She's a cute little cinnamon roll and gets spoiled by her rich ansd supportive family.

A/N: (Ignore the tittle and image, I have no ideas) Thank you for the request!! And... I DIDN'T HAVE TIME TO UPLOAD THIS 😓😭😓💔💔💔 I'M SO SORRY

It's short, yes ok, I admit it. But at least I uploaded thiss! And I'm also sorry if this isn't written the way you want, I'm sorry.

As usual. This Au is a combination of headcanons, comics, video games, series and wattpad, so not everything will be canon.

TW: nothing? no canon

Dick Grayson / Nightwing

he loves you.

but he hardly has time to spend.

I think he is one of those brothers who lift you up in their arms as a tender greeting. (💗)

"What? I thought kids liked cereal for dinner…"

Don't take this the wrong way, he would like to have time to spend with you, but he has a VERY tight schedule…

Dick would be very protective and he would do everything possible so that you don't have any trauma (or something like that).

He is one of the charismatic brothers, always making you smile with his bad jokes.

And obviously always being by your side as a brother.

If you ever have a bad relationship with Bruce, Dick would cure those daddy issues for you. 🫶

Always giving you life lessons...

Dick would take you out for a walk in the afternoons (if he had time) to have a shake or ice cream.

Jason Todd / Red hood

okey, just let me.

"You want a beer, kid?"

I guess you hardly ever have interaction with each other.

yk, he has daddy issues x100

Jason is one of the brothers who sits you in front of the TV, puts on some cartoon and leaves you there while he does something.

He simply found out about your existence from the news that Bruce Wayne adopted another little girl or Dick told him.

Once he met you and saw how sweet, kind and innocent, he said to himself: "Time to be a good big brother."

Jason would be very overprotective of you, he wouldn't want anything to happen to you.

Sometimes he starts to think and goes blank when he thinks that you are going to be a teenager and have a partner who will hurt you.

He already planned different ways to kill them. Even if they are aliens.

Despite his tough and stern attitude, he also shows his emotional and tender side with you.

Tim Drake / Red Robin

It's a good brotherly relationship between you, honestly.

Tim, seeing you, so innocent and sweet, decided to be your biggest guardian. (Although there is Alfred as your "protector", but he wants to do it anyway)

Tim would help you with science, geography, math and whatever homework you need.

He may be a coffee addict, but he wouldn't give you coffee even if he was threatened with death. You are very small.

"ALFRED! Y/N ACCIDENTALLY DRINK FROM MY COFFEE MUG AND NOW LOOKS LIKE A DAMN ZOMBIE!!" (like you, fucking brum brum)

Forget what I say...

Support for you... whenever he feels like it.

Nah just kidding, he's very good to you, he loves you.

He would scold you, yes, but then he sees that you are angry with him, he feels bad now.

Cassandra Cain / Orphan

Cass would just be so sweet to you 😭

#bestbigsisterinthefuckingworld

She always makes sure you get anywhere safely and eat all your meals.

I feel like it would be two kinds of big sisters every time you get angry with her because you scolded her… It depends on her mood.

Like like. You go to your room, yell at her and close the door forcefully, she would be sad for your scream and feel bad about herself. BUT, in another case she may simply not care and yell back at you. "FINE!"

But you always return to being the united sisters you always were.

Very sweet, she will always be your support and is always giving you love.

She's someone who takes everything seriously, because you know. So...

If they insult you, let me tell you, she will give any child a death glare. Oh, and she would accuse those children to their parents.

Damian Wayne / Robin

NO INSPO WITH HIM, SORRY DAMIAN FANS, I LOVE YOU

At first he would be like: "And who is this..."

First, you must spend a lot of time with him so that he can trust you and that you are not some spy. /jk

Dami is a very mature boy for his age, so I don't think they do the typical jokes between brothers.

Although, he likes to make you laugh with bad jokes that he copied from Dick.

Damian is not so good at "cohabit" with small children or those his age, but he would try with you.

He would also be a very protective brother, like a faithful guardian.

At first there would be a bit of misunderstanding between him and bruce, but it was later resolved once he liked you.

It would help you with nightmares (if you have them), allow you to go into his room and sleep with him.

A good brother once you know him well. He loves you.

Duke Thomas / The Signal

I think he would also be a very sweet and loving brother.

I think he's one of those older brothers who lifts your feet up to his and starts doing a silly, adorable little dance. Love him.

Sometimes he doesn't take you seriously because of how adorable you are.

I just imagined Duke having cuteness overload watching you try to help him in the kitchen or with his homework.

He would let you try your "makeups" on him, he doesn't care about the teasing, anything just to be your favorite big brother.

The tremendous scolding that kids who make fun of you get from Duke.

I feel like he would be very patient with you, always.

He finds it funny that anyone can bribe you with a simple chocolate or candy.

He would teach you how to play different games. Like football, he would celebrate every time you score a simple silly goal.

[If you like you can add more headcanons <3 || Divider not mine! You can find the user who did it in a reblog of my account!]

[clopeh-sekka]

Dick Grayson barely registered the creak of his apartment door as he stumbled in, shoulders sagging under the weight of another grueling night. Three jobs and a patrol shift in Blüdhaven would do that to a guy. He kicked off his boots, dragged himself toward the couch, and froze mid-step.

Someone was already here.

For a split second, instinct had him reaching for the escrima sticks he kept stashed near the door. But then he caught the faintest whiff of something familiar—coffee beans? The expensive kind. And the faint rustle of someone shifting in the dark. He relaxed. Probably one of his siblings. Jason liked breaking in unannounced when he was in a mood, Tim treated locks like they were a mere suggestion, and Damien was Damien.

"Tim, if you're raiding my coffee stash again, at least leave some for me this time," Dick grumbled, flopping onto the couch without bothering to look.

Silence.

"Jason? Did you lose your keys, or are you here to eat all my leftovers again?" He paused. "Duke, if that's you, I—okay, actually, no idea why you'd be brooding in the dark, but it's been a long day, so I'm just gonna roll with it."

The silence stretched on, but Dick was too exhausted to care. Whoever it was, they could wait until morning. "Look, I’m on your side. Or, I will be in the morning when I’ve had some sleep." He yawned, dragging himself up off the couch and toward his bedroom. "I’ll make breakfast. We’ll talk then. Pancakes or eggs, your call. Just...try not to trash the place while I’m out, yeah?"

The figure didn’t move, and Dick didn’t wait for an answer. He fell into bed and passed out almost immediately.

---

When Dick woke up, the first thing he noticed was the sunlight streaming through the blinds. The second thing he noticed was the smell of coffee.

He frowned. Coffee? He hadn’t made any.

Dragging himself out of bed, he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, on the counter, was a steaming mug of coffee and a note. Beside the note sat a printed receipt and a bag of fresh groceries.

Dick blinked, reaching for the note first. The handwriting was sharp and precise:

> "Not one of your siblings. Sorry for the confusion. Came to deliver a message, but your ‘brotherly’ assumption and hospitality caught me off guard. Your fridge was so pathetic it offended me, so I ordered you groceries. They should last a week. Try to survive the next visit. You seem like a stand-up guy. —K"

He stared at the note, then at the receipt. The assassin—or whoever they were—had bought him eggs, milk, bread, fresh vegetables, and even a few snacks.

Setting the note aside, Dick opened his fridge. Sure enough, it was freshly stocked. His two protein bars and box of expired cereal were still there, now dwarfed by the bounty of fresh food.

He shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Only me,” he muttered, sipping the coffee. It was good. Better than what he usually bought.

Dick leaned against the counter, rereading the note. Whoever this “K” was, they clearly didn’t know how to keep things impersonal. And while the whole “message from an assassin” thing was technically alarming, he couldn’t help but feel amused.

“I guess I should be worried,” he mused aloud, glancing at the groceries again. “But hey, at least they care about my nutrition.”

It was the weirdest start to a morning he’d had in a while, but for Dick Grayson, that wasn’t saying much.