#but yeah i guess timmy just likes his teeth the way they are. gives him character

[rexscanonwife]

When my s/i becomes Chester's fairy he can just like, wish for new braces when he needs them and then maybe his dad can afford yanno. A house 😂😂 or even an apartment!

Hell, he can wish his teeth all better! In fact? Why doesn't Timmy do that???

[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: L - Language 

Summary: Jason doesn’t hesitate to drag his brothers down with him when Bruce starts reprimanding him about the type of language he uses on a daily basis. 

Enjoy! :D 

“Well this is just a load of bullshit! Why do they have to intervene? We’re perfectly capable of handling this.” Jason huffs and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair. He can’t believe what he's hearing.

On the opposite side of the table Bruce levels him with a hard look. “Watch your language Jason.”

Jason blinks before sitting up straight. “What, it’s not like the kid is currently around to overhear."

“Jason!”

Glaring at the man, Jason scowls. This seems to be a regular topic of conversation between them recently because according to Bruce Jason swears too much, especially when he’s around Damian. The man, for whatever reason, wants Jason to be a good role model for the kid and apparently that includes him not swearing.

So now anytime he swears, Bruce points it out with a matching scolding tone and expression.

It’s a ridiculous notion because Jason being who he is was brought up with swearing, living on the streets for so many years exposed him to all kinds of things, one of which being the language people use. Swearing is just part of his vocabulary, half of the time he isn’t even aware he is doing it. As long as he’s not swearing at someone, then surely there should be some leniency.

“Oh come on!” He exclaims with a wave of his hands. “He’s been raised as an assassin, he was already tainted before we even met. Me saying a few words isn’t doing any harm.”

Before Bruce could respond a new voice joins the conversation. “To be fair you do swear a lot. Maybe you should try and tone it down.”

Jason turns to his right to glare at his older brother who’s lounging comfortably next to him. “Oh fuck off, Dick, no one asked for your opinion.”

Dick stares back unimpressed, he raises both eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

Jason recalls what he said and grits his teeth.

He points menacingly at Dick. “That doesn’t prove anything. Quite frankly I grew up in Crime Alley, of course I’m gonna swear, you hear it every minute in that place and typically as a kid you’re gonna pick up the habit. You know what they say old habits die hard.”

“Just like you did?” A different voice retorts with a snort.

Jason switches his gaze to Tim, who is opposite him next to Bruce currently playing with his phone, and blinks at him in surprise. “Uh, excuse me? I don’t know whether to be insulted or proud by that.”

It’s usually only him who makes death jokes so it’s come as a surprise to find Tim making one, a well-timed one too. Jason shakes his head, he’ll deal with those emotions at another time.

“Anyway, if we’re talking about who swears too much then why aren’t you giving Tim a lecture? He swears like a bloody sailor. If anyone needs reprimanding on his language it’s him!”

Tim abruptly stops fiddling with his phone and looks up, he rolls his eyes and glowers at him. “Jesus Christ that’s so immature Jason. How old are you, 10? I’m no way near as bad as you.”

His response gets a gleeful chuckle out of Jason. He knows exactly how the next few minutes are about to play out and he can’t wait. While the focus of the conversation had been on him, he’s glad for the opportunity to move it onto someone else and Tim happens to be perfect for the new spotlight.

Without any hesitation Jason digs into his pocket and grabs his phone. Once he has the device in hand he starts searching for the video he has saved for this very purpose. Call him petty, but he knew it would be good blackmail material one day.

“Oh really?” He drawls out, finally finding the video he had been looking for, “then what do I have here…” Jason clicks play and puts it on speaker so everyone in the room would be able to hear the audio.

After a second the sound of Tim’s voice could be heard. The teenager was clearly angry about something and certainly wasn’t holding back from letting his anger be known through his choice of words.

“You bloody bastard, why won’t you work you piece of shit. By god this is pissing me off now, I’ve been at this all fucking day and you’re still not fucking working. I am going to kill…”

The recording lasts for about a minute and is filled with Tim swearing his head off, cursing at everything and everyone and making empty threats. Once it’s finished Jason turns his phone off, puts it back in his pocket and leans back in his chair feeling smug about the situation.

“I rest my case.”

His words are met with a stunned silence in the room. Tim is blushing hard with his head buried in his hands. Next to him Bruce looks concerned, probably for Tim’s mental health and wellbeing. Dick’s staring at Tim with shock spread across his features.

After a few beats Tim lifts his head from his hands but keeps his eyes down staring at the table so he could avoid everyone’s eyes. “Okay in my defence the technology was really piss–annoying me. It wouldn’t work and I couldn’t work out why so I got frustrated and that happened.”

His response makes Jason snort and causes Dick to shake his head in disbelief. He knew Tim could be feisty but until that moment he never realised how bad his temper could get. Jason’s honestly impressed. However that doesn’t mean he’s letting Tim get away with it, especially when he’s getting blamed for something Tim does just as much of as him.

If he's going down then he’s dragging Tim down with him. It’s just unfortunate that he doesn’t have anything on Dick.

Jason’s broken out of his thoughts on ways he could get blackmail material on Dick when Tim speaks up again. He’s finally looking up at everyone though his still flushed face shows his prior embarrassment.

“Let’s be honest, is swearing really all that bad? As long as we’re not swearing at people then I think it’s fine. We’re not harming anyone. Who cares if we swear a little too much. And anyway, doesn’t everyone swear at some point?”

“Clark doesn’t.” Dick pipes up next to him.

Jason snorts. “That’s because big blue is a boy scout, of course he isn’t going to swear. He doesn’t count. Plus we’re from Gotham after all, it’s not like this is the most impeccable place in the world.”

Dick becomes thoughtful, humming his response. “Yeah that’s true I guess.”

“Boys.”

The three brother’s all turn and look at Bruce who had called for their attention. Jason had forgotten the man was even there, he had surprisingly been quiet until now. Maybe it’s because Clark was brought into the conversation, it must have peaked his interest. Jason files that information away for later.

“It doesn’t matter how much any of you swear, you shouldn’t do it at all. Damian is still young, he doesn’t need to grow up listening to that sort of language despite his initial upbringing.” Bruce firmly says, looking at each of them in turn. “You all know better and have good manners, going forward I expect you to use them.”

As Bruce rattles on about proper manners and the importance of them, Jason finds himself resisting the urge to smile. With every second that passes, it threatens to break out on his face. What makes matters worse is that he knows he shouldn’t smile, this isn’t a smiling matter considering how serious Bruce is being but the man is making it difficult to concentrate and to take the topic seriously.

Jason glances to the right to find Dick staring at Bruce with a hand covering the lower part of his face and Jason can tell that his brother is in the exact same boat as he is.

Apparently all it takes for him to break is Dick to glance at him and for them to make eye contact.

After that Jason couldn’t help himself but to burst out laughing, next to him Dick also breaks out into a fit of giggles. They laugh for a good while until they’re able to start calming down, by that point Jason’s cheeks are hurting and he even had tears forming in his eyes. As he takes a deep breath to compose himself he makes the mistake of looking over at Dick again, Dick looks back at him too and just like that they fall into another uncontrollable laughing fit.

While laughing Jason gets a glimpse of a confused looking Tim and a disappointed Bruce, but it’s Bruce’s scowling expression that triggers off another wave of giggles.

It takes even longer for the two of them to calm down. As he sits there Jason repeatedly takes deep breaths in order to collect himself. Once he’s calmed down a little, now able to breathe somewhat normally, he could feel how his sides are aching, how his cheeks hurt from the wide smiling and the tears coming from his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard that it hurt, and over something so trivial nonetheless.

When it feels like he’s finally composed himself he risks a glance at Dick to find his brother also in the state of calming down though there’s still a wide grin on face. He then looks at Bruce who is still staring at the two of them with his disappointed look. That’s almost enough to set himself off again. Almost.

“If you’re both quite done, we have important business to discuss, may I remind you that being the reason we’re meeting to begin with.”

“Hey, you’re the one who started on the whole language topic that derailed us in the beginning.” Jason defends himself and his brother’s. All Bruce does is huff at that, knowing Jason is right and can’t defend himself against it otherwise. Jason smirks victoriously.

Opposite him, Tim sighs loudly and makes a show to sitting up straight and sorting out some of the paperwork between them all on table. “Enough already, can we just go over the details and the police reports again and get to the end of this. I have better things to do than hear everyone bicker about language and manners.”

Dick gives the youngest a side look. “What you got planned? Is that who you were messaging just now? Is it your boyfriend?”

“What? No. Just friends. I ain’t telling you.” Tim snaps glaring at Dick.

Jason whistles. “Timmy’s getting some tonight then eh? Make sure to stay safe and use protection.”

“Jason!”

“Well he’s not wrong Tim, but where are you going? We need to know so if something happens we know where to look first.” Dick’s looking more concerned by the minute and Jason could see the flip switch from carefree older brother to over-bearing mother hen.

Tim blinks at them before turning his gaze to Bruce. In a whining voice he pleads the man, “Bruce, get them to stop!”

To begin with all Bruce does is run a hand over his face like he’s regretting every life choice he’s made and how he would rather be anywhere else but here. After a moment he sends exasperated looks at his eldest sons.

“Not much more to go, then we should be all caught up and ready to proceed with the case further tomorrow. Is it too much to ask for your full attention for the remaining hour?”

Jason sighs and sits up straighter, knowing play time is over and it’s time to be serious. One more hour won’t hurt, then afterwards there’s nothing stopping him from having a little fun is there. He nods at Bruce and picks up the piece of paper closet to him to examine the page. Dick does the same and finally Bruce proceeds with their meeting.

[cherry-glade]

sleepy sunsets and candid confessions

pairing: tim drake x reader

summary: the two of you are finally getting to spend some time together after being apart for so long, and tim decides to bring something up to you that he’s been keeping to himself for some time.

warnings: mostly fluff with just the slightest bit of angst bc tim is a sad boy for a little while :/

w/c: 1889 words

You’re on the verge of falling asleep with your back pressed uncomfortably against the rough bark of a tree, sunlight warm on your face and shining bright behind your eyelids when you hear Tim, remnants of precious sleep evidently still clinging on for dear life to his voice, soft and raspy, slurring over the syllables of your name.

“Hey.” You look down to see Tim watching you with a tired little smile on his face, head resting in your lap. You’re glad to see his smile—Tim has yet to say anything about it, but you know that he’s been a little upset recently.

“I thought you were asleep, Timmy.”

“I was,” he confirms, closing his eyes again. “But I woke up again so that I could look at you.” He pauses to yawn, jaw cracking as his eyes squeeze tight before relaxing again. “Missed your face while I was sleeping.”

Your cheeks go warm at that and you gently flick his ear. Tim’s eyes flutter open and find yours as his smile widens, playful with a tiny hint of smugness spilling out with the flash of his teeth. It’s a good look on him, especially with that cheeky glint in his eyes, but then again, so is pretty much everything.

“Sap,” you mutter, and he shakes his head at you, the movement looking a little odd being viewed upside down.

“You love it,” he retorts through a second yawn and closes his eyes again, settling down like he’s just won an argument against you, except he actually has and you can’t say that he’s wrong, not really.

“We’re together almost all the time, Tim,” you murmur, pushing a few strands of dark hair out of his eyes. “Aren’t you at least a little tired of seeing my face all the time?”

“Never tired of seeing you, Y/N,” he confesses casually. “You’re my favourite person and the best part of my day.”

“Cool it with the compliments, Romeo,” you chuckle, twisting his hair and curling it around your fingers.

“It’s not just a compliment, it’s the truth,” Tim huffs, then pauses. “Well, I guess it is a compliment, but I’m not just trying to fill your head up with hot air. You make me happy. Happy, happy, happy...” he repeats, humming to himself.

You blink down at him, amused. “I think you need some more sleep,” you say, poking his forehead lightly, but he still frowns.

“No, I wanna stay up with you,” Tim insists, his frown deepening. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. Or at least spent any time with you alone, just the two of us. I miss you all the time,” he sighs, and your heart cracks down the very middle.

“You saw me just yesterday, Tim,” you say softly, a little worried. He hasn’t mentioned this before, and while you agree with him, you can’t help but feel infinitely grateful for the little time you actually have been able to spend together. You’ve known from the start that you can’t always be his first priority, and that quite often, he has bigger things to care about than you.

“For like, five minutes,” Tim says, scowling now as he jerkily pulls himself out of your lap and still manages to gracefully get to his feet, jaw tense as he stares down at you. “We literally just said hi to each other and made small talk about the weather because we didn’t have time to talk about anything other than that.”

His shoulders slump, and you can vaguely see the sun just starting to set behind him, rays shining through Tim’s hair to make him look like an angel with a halo of bright light around his head. An angel who insists on carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I know that’s my fault though,” he confesses guiltily, avoiding your eyes now. “Me being a vigilante doesn’t really make it easy for us to see each other, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry that I’m being a bad boyfriend. You deserve better from me.”

You stare at him for a moment, wide-eyed and speechless, not able to think of what to even say. In the end, you just say his name, not even trying to hide the way his name falls effortlessly from your lips, soft and loving.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours and then dart away, unable to hold your gaze. “Tim,” you repeat, your voice barely more than a whisper as you pat the grass next to you. “Come here,” you offer. “Sit with me.”

Tim hesitates and then folds himself back down next to you with crossed legs, close enough that your knees brush against each other. Looking up as you take his hand out of his lap to link your pinkies together, you notice that the sun has gone lower in the sky, leaving behind soft streaks of vibrant colour, light pinks and blues, fiery reds and oranges.

“You know,” you start, voice breaking the silence you’d both fallen into. “Whenever I get to watch the sun setting, I’m reminded of you.” Tim turns to look at you with a raised eyebrow, patiently waiting for an explanation, and you just smile at him.

“Remember our first date?” You ask, and Tim grimaces, an embarrassed flush crawling up his neck.

“The one that I was really late for so we had to completely replan it? Yeah, I remember that.” You can tell by the snark in his voice that he’s still clearly kicking himself for it, but that’s not what you want at all.

“Tim, that’s not what I meant and you know it,” you reprimand, and he gives you an apologetic smile which doesn’t reach his eyes. You sigh and take both of his hands into yours, lifting them to your mouth to press gentle kisses to his scarred knuckles and then leaving them to rest underneath your chin.

“You were late to our date in the morning, but we both wanted to finally go on a date so badly that we just went out in the evening and sat together in the park, eating ice-cream. Remember?” Tim nods, his smile becoming a little more real at the reminder of what was basically the beginning of your relationship.

“I... dropped my ice-cream because I was tired enough to be on the verge of falling asleep, and you shared yours with me. And we watched the sun set together. That was nice,” he says softly, untangling his fingers from yours so that he can curl his hand over your lower thigh instead, thumb rubbing slow circles over your knee.

“It was,” you agree. “It was really nice because that evening, I looked at you, and the sun was hitting you just right.” Tim grins bashfully, eyes crinkling. “It made your eyes all twinkly and somehow even bluer, and you looked back at me with this really dopey smile, and I thought, all the way back then, that I could seriously fall in love with you. And I did.”

Tim gives you the same dopey smile he’d given you back then, and it still makes your heart flutter. “You did. And so did I,” he says, touching his fingers to your cheek, lingering on the curve of your jaw.

“Exactly,” you tell him. “So now, whenever I see a sunset, I think of that. Of you. And you know, the sun sets every day, so I think of you a lot,” you say nonchalantly, shrugging.

“Even when we don’t see each other for a while, you’re still in here,” you continue to explain, resting one hand on top of his chest, right above the steady beat of his heart. “And up here,” you say, tapping his temple with your other hand. “And I’m sure the same goes for you.”

The way that his face softens tells you all you need to know. You don’t hold your arms out for a hug, but you keep your body language open and inviting, waiting for Tim to move first. And sure enough, he shuffles over and curls into you, resting his chin on top of your head as you lift your arms to pull him in close enough that every inch of your bodies are touching.

“You’re right,” Tim speaks up after a few minutes of comfortable silence, voice slightly muffled, but you can feel his lips moving against your skin, warm and curving into a smile. “I’m sorry for being an idiot and not talking to you about this sooner.”

“You aren’t an idiot, Timmy,” you say, lifting your head from his shoulder to look him in the eye and put emphasis on your words. The sun shines on, warm and bright where it touches you. “You just needed a reminder not to be so hard on yourself, that’s all. We all do sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Tim says softly, gaze fixed upon yours, something soft and undoubtedly gooey in his blue eyes. “You know me so well.”

“Of course I do. I’m in love with you,” you reply simply, tilting your head.

“Thank you,” he replies, and you give him a look, confused. “For being you. And for loving me,” he clarifies. “I know that being with me isn’t exactly easy.”

“That’s where you’re absolutely, totally wrong,” you respond, touching his nose with your finger and smiling when it wrinkles and his eyes cross as he tries to look at it. “You don’t need to thank me for something I don’t even have to try to do.”

Tim watches you with widening eyes, lips parted. He might be shocked by what you’ve said but you’ve known this to be true for so long, as true as the sky is blue, that it’s only fair he does too.

“Loving you is—well, it’s practically as easy as breathing. And no, I’m not exaggerating when I say that, so don’t even think about it,” you rush to cut him off as he opens his mouth, and his cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink.

Tim leans forward to kiss your forehead and then huffs out a laugh against your skin, his breath cool and smelling vaguely of coffee and mint-flavoured chewing gum, the staples of his diet. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

Liar. Tim never fails to point out hyperboles in people’s speech, with that smug little shine to his eyes.

“Loving me is as easy as breathing though, huh?” He sounds amused and pleased at the same time, a terrible combination for sure. “Who’s the real sap in this relationship, huh?”

“Still you,” you fire back, and Tim chuckles, fond and exasperated. You’re still smiling at him and your legs have gone numb from sitting down for so long, but nothing can make you look away from the playful grin on Tim’s face, bright and infectious.

“If you say so,” Tim sighs, sitting back to watch the sun finish setting with you as the sky begins to darken and the first stars are about to appear, but you both know that you’re just as hopelessly gone for this boy as he is for you, and time spent apart won’t change that, because it really is true, at least in your case, that absence only makes the heart grow fonder.

[confusednarcissistwrites]

Je T’aime (T.C.)

Another request for the angel, @thestarsaregivenonceonly​ . This is sooo fluffy, but I think we all could use a bit of that right now. Hope you enjoy, doll 😘

(fluffy smut for the soul, jealousy)

“Timmy, you’re making a mess!”

You were incredibly grateful that your boyfriend had found a project that kept him in New York for a few months. You’d just recently moved in together and were getting into each other’s rhythms. This included working on dinners together, much to your delight.

You squealed, trying to dodge Timotheé’s attempts to smear tomato sauce on your face.

“Just let it happen! You know you can’t outrun me,” he taunted, cornering you against the counter. He swiped it across your nose while you giggled and twisted away, spreading the sauce in a stripe across your cheek. “Ha! Gotcha!” he cheered, licking the last of it from his thumb.

“You’ll regret this, Chalamet,” you replied, wrinkling up your nose and poking him in the chest.

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” He wiggled his eyebrows and locked you between him and the counter with his arms.

You ducked below his arm and slipped free. “Because, I’m going to use ALL the garlic! Not only that, but then I’m going to make you kiss me ALL night,” you replied smugly as you spread the fresh garlic cloves evenly across your flatbread.

Timotheé whined loudly behind you as he pulled a paper towel from the roll. “Ruuuuude. But fair is fair, I suppose.” He grinned, wiping the sauce from your face. “You’re much less intimidating without your Italian war paint.”

You giggled, standing up on your tiptoes to peck his lips before returning your attention to the ingredients before you. You opted for a few slices of fresh mozzarella, some basil, and a sprinkling of olives. Once you finished, you popped into the preheated oven. You caught Tim singing softly, his body moving to the music playing from your phone as he happily assembled his own pizza. A wave of adoration for the lanky boy washed over you, and you wandered over to wrap your arms around his middle.

“Hi,” he chuckled, patting your arm while his eyes fretted about to choose what flavor combo struck him that evening.

“Hi,” you hummed happily, watching him intently as he piled on more and more. “There’s no way you’re going to eat all of that!”

“We never eat two pizzas! We need to have people over on pizza night,” he replied, turning around, his hands sliding down your arms to hold your hands.

“I guess we are all the way moved in now and could do that,” you thought aloud, swinging your clasped hands. “Did you have anyone in mind?”

“Well, I was talking to C/S about coming over for drinks sometime this week. Maybe we could invite her,” he suggested casually, releasing your hands to put his own flatbread into the oven.

Of course.

You felt your elated mood drop sharply upon the mention of her name. The media had erupted with excitement when it was announced that they would be working together, and, as always, the fans began “shipping” them right away. Now, you’d been trying very, VERY hard to not feel insecure about all of it, and Timotheé always assured you that the relationship was strictly professional. While you had learned to brush off the media’s intense assumptions, it was hard to ignore it coming directly from the source. He often came home with wild stories that seemed to all circulate around her, even mentioning pet names they’d developed for each other. He knew you were sensitive about it, but it felt like he didn’t even try to hold back. You tried so hard to ignore your insecurities. You knew he would never sneak around on you, that this was just how co-stars interacted, and he was just one of those magnetic people who makes close friends rather quickly. But no matter what you told yourself, the little, green monster in you refused to let it go.

“Oh,” you replied dumbly, cursing yourself for letting it slip.

Timotheé turned around, his brow furrowed. “Oh?”

“I just- I mean don't you think that would be kind of awkward? Just the three of us?”

“Nah. She’s been wanting to meet you, remember?” Could he really not see what was going on?

“I don't know… Don’t you want to just.. be home? I mean you see her all day, right?” You cringed, hearing how blatantly jealous you sounded.

“Oh, babyyyyy. This isn’t about her at all is it? Are you jealous?” he cooed with a grin, cupping your cheek. He clearly found this all very amusing.

You pulled away, feeling horribly embarrassed. “I’m not jealous! I just figured you’d want some time to yourself,” you insisted, busying yourself by checking in the oven.

“Ahhh, you are! Look how blushed your cheeks are! Somebody has a crush on meeee,” he sang, hugging you tightly from behind.

“Timmy, stop it,” you choked, suddenly on the brink of tears. You were humiliated.

“Woah, woah, woah, hey, love, what’s wrong? Don’t cry.” His demeanor completely switched, turning you around to look at him. Worry filled his features, making you crack. Like the flip of a switch, you were suddenly sobbing into his shirt, leaving him wholly confused and concerned. “Baby girl, what is it? Talk to me,” he pleaded.

You pulled back, wiping your eyes harshly. “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” The timer chimed and you turned around, pulling dinner from the oven.

“Don’t be sorry, angel. Just tell me what is going on- Is this about C/S?” he pressed, his hands gently rubbing up and down your arms.

You sniffled, turning around to face him. God, he was a saint. He was nearly in tears himself as he fought to understand what could possibly have you this upset. You took a deep breath, trying to find the least confrontational way to express what you were feeling. “I-I just.. I’m having a hard time with everything this time, for some reason. I just feel like maybe she’s new and more exciting, and you’d rather have her around than me.” You felt even more ridiculous saying it out loud, but you couldn’t deny your own insecurities.

Timmy shook his head, clearly pained by your words. He pulled you into his chest, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Mon amour, I’m so, so sorry I made you feel that way. I’d choose to have you around over anyone in this entire world, you know that right?”

You sighed, letting out a weak laugh. “Yes, I do. I just have such a hard time believing it sometimes.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “The only reason I reacted the way I did was because I can’t even imagine loving someone the way that I love you; it’s a whole other breed of love. I can’t imagine you being jealous over little, ole me,” he laughed, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Ugh, stop being so perfect,” you groaned with a smile, hiding your face in his shoulder. It was amazing the way he could soothe your worries in a matter of sentences.

“No, god, don't say that.” He shook his head, holding you close with one hand tucked securely at the nape of your neck. “And trust me when I tell you…” He leaned down, his lips just barely brushing over the shell of your ear. “No one excites me like you do.”

You shivered at his change in tone, peering up at him with flushed cheeks. “Yeah?”

He held your face, tilting his head as he captured your lips with his in a kiss so tender you thought you might faint. His tongue skipped across your bottom lip, lightly tugging it between his teeth. “Absolutely,” he breathed. “Let me show you?”

You blushed darkly, giving him a nod. He took your hand and tugged you off to your bedroom, dinner forgotten for the moment. You let him push you into bed and pull your leggings down your legs while you made quick work of your shirt, leaving you in a lacy bralette and matching panties. He groaned at the sight, his head falling against your stomach before looking up at you. “You don’t even know what you do to me; it’s so unfair.” His voice was low and needy, making you ache.

You laughed softly, sitting up to pull off his shirt. He cupped your face and kissed you deeply before you could get distracted with him. He wanted you to know that this was all for you tonight. He sucked on your lower lip, asking for entrance. You happily obliged, releasing soft sounds of pleasure into his mouth. He seemed to have this way of kissing you that made you feel all of his attention and adoration for you. No one had ever made you feel the way he did, and that’s why the thought of losing him to another terrified you so much. You hoped that he felt the same flips in his stomach for you.

“Come back to me,” he whispered gently, sensing your overthinking as though you were saying it out loud. You met his eyes, so full of love and concern. “I will spend every day of my life convincing you- I intend to, if you’ll have me.” He pressed kisses to your forehead, nose, chin, and travelled down your neck.

“Yes. Please,” you responded breathlessly. “I need you.”

Feeling just as needy, Timothee slipped out of his sweats and boxers, settling between your thighs and wrapping your legs around himself. He carefully pressed into your warmth, his eyes fluttering closed as you clenched around him. You would never tire of watching him feel good, no matter the form. He wore every emotion like an old cardigan that swallowed him whole. He brushed the tip of his nose against your cheek as he bottomed out, your hands roaming his chest and tangling into his precious curls.

“Let me love you.” Your heart just about broke. He was nearly pleading with you.

“Forever,” you replied, pulling him to your lips. Your bodies rocked as one, breathy moans and sighs bouncing off of the ceiling back to your ears to make you shiver. You felt foolish for ever doubting him. His mouth abused your neck, setting your bones ablaze with pleasure.

He quickly found himself becoming too excited, so he slowed and carefully pulled out. You watched him curiously, realization settling over you as he lowered his mouth to trail kisses down the valley between your breasts to your stomach and down between your legs. He eyed you as he circled your sensitive bud with his tongue, watching you moan out his name and lose your hands in your hair. You rocked your hips against his tongue. Always eager to give, Timothee reveled in every second of your pleasure until you were falling apart against his mouth and fingers.

Panting heavily, you pulled him back up to you and kissed him feverishly. His back was against the headboard as you sat in his lap, grinding your hips against his. Few words were spoken, but confessions slipped from you both as you held one another close. You reached between your bodies and slid him back into you. You both sighed in ecstasy. “You feel like… you were made just for me,” you breathed, beginning to lift yourself up and drop back down into his lap.

He cursed, watching your every movement with intensity. “I was.” You both got lost in each other, kissing and touching every inch within your reach.

“I’m close, amour,” he soon whined, head lolled back as he gazed up at you and his hands gripped your hips. You were both covered in a sheen of sweat, leaving his face glittering and breathtaking as always.

“Me too. So close,” you whimpered. You increased your pace, his hips rising to meet you now and hitting you just right. You tensed suddenly, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Timothee moaned against your collarbone, whispering sweet nothings and holding you close. He came soon after, spilling his love inside of you with stuttering thrusts. His hands slid across your spine as he trembled in the afterglow.

“I love you, my girl. Only you, forever,” he panted softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. A shy smile tugged on his lips, making you melt.

“Je t’aime, Timo.” You kissed his forehead, content to stay right there in his embrace forever.

[onmykneesforhotdilfs]

Tilt

Bloom smiled as a butler offered her a crystal glass filled with, what she assumed was, very expensive champagne. She nodded gratefully as she took a sip, and then promptly had to physically stop herself from spitting it right back out. Either the champagne wasn’t as good as she expected or officials of Isis simply decided to serve something from the supermarket, while hoping that no one would notice. Then again, Bloom mused, it might just be that my taste buds are so used to the $10 wine so everything fancier just tastes like crap.

She shook her head and crossed her arms underneath the bustier of her skintone, off the shoulder gown with baby blue flowers scattered across the top and sporadically across the skirt as well. The nude color made her appear more tan than she actually was and while the dress was indeed very beautiful, it was just as uncomfortable. Bloom winced as shifting weight from one stiletto clad foot to another sent white hot signal of pain when one of the wires supporting her bustier stabbed her in the ribs. She bit the inside of her cheek to in order to stop herself from simply burning the fabric.

A cheerful laugh of her best friend snapped her out of her trance. Stella emerged from the mass of bodies on the dancefloor, her asymmetrical off shoulder gown highlighting every curve on her body perfectly. Long purple sleeve blended with yellow in a way Bloom didn’t even deem possible considering how different two colors are. Her other arm, that was completely sleeveless, sported some golden jewelry and floor length gown swept the floor elegantly with Stella’s every step. She was holding the same glass, filled with same champagne as Bloom, with her well manicured fingers. As soon as Stella was within arm’s reach, she grabbed Bloom’s elbow and leaned close to her, smile completely disappeared from her face.

“This stuff is absolutely disgusting.” Stella spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oh really?” Bloom asked as smirk slowly rose on her lips. “And here I thought you preferred this,” she lifted a fancy glass into the air, “over my cheap wine.”

“Anything is better than this, for the lack of a better word, crap.” Stella scoffed. “This would’ve never happened on Solaria.” She tilted the glass once again to take a sip in hope it somehow started tasting better but ended up disappointed. Bloom almost laughed at Stella’s expression. “But then again, should I have expected anything more from a planet Diaspro came from?”

Bloom almost winced at the mention of a woman that had the ability to mess up her relationship with Sky like no other. The latest stunt she pulled, thanks to Valtor, only made Bloom more angry at everybody that turned a blind eye to her actions simply because she is a princess. It was only then that the thought occurred to her, that Diaspro might be here and that she might ruin their mission. She glanced nervously around the hall, panicking more the longer she couldn’t find her.

Stella, recognizing Bloom’s ‘two breaths away from having a panic attack' look on her face, was quick to put a calming hand on her shoulder. Bloom recoiled slightly but Stella gripped the flesh lightly in order to ground her. She leaned closer to whisper in Bloom’s ear. “Relax, she’s not here. Apparently her parents don’t allow her to go to events where his highness, prince Sky of Eraklyon, might be present.”

Sarcasm was obvious in Stella’s voice but it served the purpose of calming Bloom to the point where she actually start thinking lucidly again.

Bloom took a deep breath as her shoulders slouched slightly forward. “Thank you.” She whispered to Stella. Then, the actual sentences Stella was saying caught up to her and her eyebrows touched her hairline in obvious amusement. “Still angry at Sky I see?”

Stella snorted and wrinkled her nose at the mention of Sky’s name. “If you were smarter, you’d be angry too.”

“Hey!” Bloom yelped angrily but settled down quickly as she looked away. “I am angry at him.”

“Apparently not enough.” Stella gripped the glass so hard her knuckles turned white. “I mean, what’s up with him suddenly becoming a poster boy and actually listening to what his daddy says?”

“Well, technically, Sky’s meeting with Diaspro or her parents might cause interplanetary scandal between Eraklyon and Isis.” Bloom spoke in Techna's voice.

Stella’s lip twitched. “Still, interplanetary scandal or a potential threat of one never actually stopped him from going against orders before. So my question still remains.”

“Any sign of Valtor?” Bloom asked, hoping to divert the route of conversation.

“I just spoke to Techna. He hasn’t been detected and Amplificarum is still safely locked in the vault.”

“He’ll show up eventually.” Bloom nodded absentmindedly. “He always does.”

“See this, this right here,” Stella pointed to the marble floor and Bloom lowered her gaze to the direction her finger was indicating but furrowed her brows when she found nothing. “This is why Sky should be here.” Bloom’s lips shaped into a thin line whe she realized what she was talking about as Stella continued to rant. “Isn’t he concerned that Valtor might attack and something might happen to you?”

Bloom gasped. “I’m not some… damsel in distress that needs saving Stella!” She scoffed. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

“C’mon Bloom, don’t give me that.”

“Well what do you want me to say Stell? That I’m angry? Disappointed? Fine. I’m disappointed that Sky chose to follow the order from his father when I wanted him to come with me. He most certainly could've found another solution but he did nothing. Instead he left me to face, potentially Diaspro and Valtor alone. There! Was that enough? Are you happy now?” Bloom’s cheeks were red by the time she finished her rant as her chest continued rising up and down in order to return much needed oxygen into her lungs, her exhaustion more due to stress than the actual rant.

Stella smiled and patted Bloom on the shoulder. “There you go. Now was that so hard to say?”

“What?”

“Nevermind that, anyway, be sure to tell him that next time, ok?”

Bloom rolled her eyes but a smile threatened to spread on her face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Mhm, that’s why you love me so much.” Stella spoke with an obvious pride evident in her voice.

“Yeah, let’s just say you’re lucky I do.” Bloom shook her head and grabbed Stella’s elbow as she spotted a familiar short brown hair emerging from the crowd. “There’s Brandon.” She turned to Stella and pointed to where she saw him. “Go bother him for a while.”

Stella pouted and stuck her tongue out playfully at Bloom but strutted off towards her boyfriend, leaving Bloom alone.

With Stella gone, all of Bloom’s physical discomfort came rushing back and hitting her like a rogue train. Her feet ached, her head started hurting from the tight updo and she was pretty sure the wire that poked her in the ribs has punctured her skin. She felt the tender area with her opposite hand as much as she dared and exhaled short puff of air when she found nothing. She wanted to sit down or maybe even lay down and then not move for a few days.

She shook her head and took a sip of her disgusting drink in order to wake herself up. She looked around the dancefloor, automatically finding Stella and Brandon as they swayed to the rhythm. Techna and Timmy were huddled in the corner probably discussing something about technology. Musa and Riven were also in the corner, be it on the opposite side from Techna, which greatly surprised Bloom because Musa was more often than not first on the dancefloor alongside Layla (though club suited them more, but the two always found a way to fit in anywhere), but right now dancefloor seemed like the last place Musa wanted to be. Instead, fairy of music was busy glaring daggers at her boyfriend that seemed to pay little to no attention to them.

Bloom rolled her eyes at the two of them (not that her and Sky were any better) and focused on finding Layla that also, surprisingly, decided to go solo on this mission. She found her talking to some Isis official that she probably knew due to her status. With Layla’s position in mind, bloom turned to finding the last couple but Flora and Helia were nowhere to be found so Bloom assumed they were probably taking a stroll in the garden.

With those in mind, Bloom once again diverted her eyes from the dancefloor and looked at the champagne bubbling in her glass as her thoughts ran over the information she remembered about Amplificarum.

Apparently, the green stone, by physical appearance almost indistinguishable from emerald, had the power to magnify any spells or beams aimed at something. Or someone, Bloom thought. It was most commonly used for protection spells and it generally wasn’t meant for offensive spellwork. Bloom somehow had doubts Valtor will use it for protection spells. The sheer thought of chaos that could potentially happen if such artifact ever fell into Valtor’s, or anyone’s wrong hands, made Bloom shudder all over and grip her champagne glass bit tighter. That can never be allowed to happen. It’s why you’re here. There’s no way he will be able to slip in and out undetected with eleven pairs of eyes looking for him.

Bloom couldn’t deny that Valtor is the most powerful, and quite frankly the most cunning, villain they ever had the pleasure of meeting. What irked her to the point of madness, however, was the fact that Valtor always seemed to be one step ahead of them.

The battles are like chess game. Daphne’s voice sounded in her head. In order to defeat your opponent you have to figure out their strategy. You have to master the art of reading their moves and find a way to turn the odds in your favor.

It was not hard to guess who played certain roles in this game though. She was an amateur, an amateur that was loosing valuable chess pieces battle after battle whereas Valtor was a professional that suffered minor losses here and there but still had the most prized figurines in the game. It didn’t take a professional chess player to see that the odds were most definitely not in Bloom’s favor.

He’ll slip sooner or later. Bloom thought with a smile. Even Valtor can make a mistake. And it takes only a second, a slip of concentration, a lapse in judgment and the board will tilt in our direction. Even an amateur can get lucky and stometimes, the pawn can be the most powerful piece capable of settling the final score, so don’t sell yourself short.

Bloom was so distracted by her mental pep talk that she failed to notice one of the guests approach.

“This stuff they’re serving us,” Bloom jumped as a deep melodic voice rang out next to her. “it’s not something I expected from Isis royal court.”

The stranger came to stand almost arm to arm with her, but she also noticed she was almost two heads shorter than him.

“In a good, or a bad way?” Bloom asked with a frown. The stranger has short brown hair styled to a perfection, not even a hair out of place. From what she could see from the side without being too obvious, she noticed he had perfectly straight nose and an overall boyish appearance.

The stranger lifted one of his eyebrows curiously. “Have you tried that?” He pointed to her glass.

“Yes.”

“And how does it taste?”

“Like a hair conditioner.”

He nodded approvingly. “Interesting comparison. Not inaccurate though. Well Miss, I think you just answered your own question.”

Despite all odds, Bloom found herself smiling at stranger’s antics and clever quips. “I am sorry but I don’t think I got your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you.”

Okay, rude.

“Well,” she forced out, “would you be so kind to give me your name then?” Bloom really hoped her smile was more convincing than her words.

“There’s no need, Bloom. You already know my name.” Bloom’s smile vanished as the man finally turned to face her, the unique icy colored eyes she only saw on one particular individual looking straight into her wider-than-dinnerplates blue ones. She felt a bead of sweat roll down the thin column of her neck and disappear into her cleavage.

Bloom gulped.

Valtor smirked.

“You!” was the only thing that came out of her mouth.

He shook his head, his eyebrows set in a frown as he let out a disappointed huff. “That is not my name princess. You might wish to try again.”

“What are you doing here, Valtor?” Bloom managed through gritted teeth.

“Oh so you do remember.” Valtor smirked like the cat who got all the cream. “Good. Otherwise I would have to remind you and I really don’t want to spoil anyone’s evening.”

“As if you need me, or anyone, for that!” Bloom whisper-yelled as her eyes darted desperately across the room, trying to locate her team.

“Now now,” Valtor cooed, “it is not polite to look away from the person you’re having a conversation with, Bloom. Someone should’ve taught you proper manners.”

Bloom gasped as she felt the dragon fire raging in her chest, the effect much more intense than she’s ever experienced before. She swayed slightly on her feet and she raised her unoccupied arm to clutch lightly at her chest. The world was spinning in front of her eyes and just as she feared she might topple over, one of Valtor’s large hands grasped her bicep and the forest fire that burned in her turned into smoldering ashes.

Bloom leaned slightly on her side, Valtor’s arm acting like an anchor as she fought to regain her breath.

“What,” she rasped out, her voice hoarse like she just inhaled smoke, “was that?”

“Just a reminder that you should not antagonize me.” Valtor’s voice was cold and sharp and it made her swallow down a snarky response.

“Is that how you snuck past Techna and me?” The pain was gone but her legs still felt wobbly and she was forced to hold onto Valtor in order to remain standing. “A cloaking spell?”

“If the shoe fits…” he trailed off as Bloom stood up to her full height but despite the heels she wore, Valtor noted with a slight amusement, only managed to reach his shoulders. The glare princess of Domino sent him would make a lesser man run to his mom but it only made Valtor grin. Bloom ripped her arm from his grasp and he had to bite his lip to stifle a chuckle that threatened to escape as Bloom stumbled slightly when he willingly let her go.

Bloom mumbled something that even his heighten senses couldn’t pick up. “I apologize darling, I didn’t quite catch that. Would you mind repeating it?”

“I said that if you turn around and bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits.”

Valtor was in stupor for a minute, but then a surprised chuckle broke through his lips and his shoulders started shaking from the laughter he tried, and was slowly failing at, keeping contained. “Oh, and she bites.”

Valtor continued laughing sporadically, stopping for a few moments only to start up again. The lines around his eyes crinkled and Bloom found herself fascinated by how melodic and pleasant his laugh sounded. The thought only lasted for a few seconds before Bloom stomped on it with a part of her brain that was still capable of making rational thoughts. Get it together, Bloom.

“If you’re quite done,” Bloom spoke, her cheeks red from rather unorthodox behavior she exhibited few minutes ago, “how about you tell me what are you doing here, finally?”

“I think you know why I’m here.”

“Forget it, you’re not getting it!” She turned to face him fully, her eyes boring a hole into the side of his head.

Valtor lifted his eyebrows as if to say ‘Really?’, mockery clear in his eyes. “Are you going to stop me?”

Bloom nodded. “I am.”

Valtor shook his head, smile on his face, amused by her confident tone. She thinks she’s a match for me. Silly girl. He was just about to tell her as much when the music that played as more of a background noise, suddenly became louder, loud to the point it drowned out all the chatter in the room.

Bloom almost jumped out of her skin when the orchestra started playing, loudly. She flinched, however, when she once again felt Valtor’s huge hand on her body. This time his palm was not in a direct contact with her skin but the unusual placement of the said appendage caused her to panic. His hand landed on the small of her back and it was quite persistently pushing her forward, straight onto the dancefloor between other couples.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed through clenched teeth, sparks flaring at her fingertips, beginnings of an offensive spell already forming on her vocal cords.

“We are dancing.” His calm voice only made her more angry and she started struggling against the force pushing her forward.

“I don’t want to dance. Let me go.”

He stopped just short of the line separating area designed for dancing and bowed down theatrically while offering his hand to her. “May I have this dance, Miss?”

Few people closest to them turned around at the sound of his voice and Bloom had to bite her tongue to resist the urge to claw his eyes out. “No, you can’t!” She huffed out quietly instead, her neck and cheeks turning red from anger. “I told you, I don’t want to dance and I most certainly do not want to dance with the likes of you!"

“You wound me princess, truly. I don’t bite… not unless you want me to, of course.”

Bloom’s nostrils flared and flames began to dance in her eyes. What insolence.

“Let’s make a deal, princess of Domino.” He interrupted her just as smoke was about to start coming out of her ears. “You let me have this dance, and I’ll tell you everything you wish to know and I promise to tell the truth.”

“Why should I trust you?” She raised her eyebrows but it was obvious she was interested.

“You shouldn’t.” He tilted his head to the side as smile stretched across his lips. “But that never stopped you before.”

Sea blue met the arctic ice. A spark erupted and the coldness of his gaze melted away. “I give you my word.” His hand was still hovering in the air, his palm opened in invitation as he tilted his head in the direction of the dancefloor.

Bloom weighed her options. For as far as she knew, this could be another one of Valtor’s tricks to gain the information from her instead of vice versa. But the burning questions only he had the answers to kept pressing on the part of her brain that was telling her how much of a madness this was. Bloom sighed. Her hand rose hesitantly and slowly took hold of Valtor’s.

“One dance. That’s all you get.”

“That’s all I’ll need.”

He gripped Bloom’s fingers bit tighter as he lead her into the classic pose with his unoccupied hand placed on her lower back, lower than socially accepted when dancing with someone you do not know, but still in the safe zone that didn’t ask for Bloom to knee him in the balls. His other hand loosened around her fingers and now gently supported her palm. Instead of placing her other arm on Valtor’s shoulder, Bloom gripped one side of her skirt so she could move freely and to minimize contact. He looked down , searching her face, but Bloom turned her head in the opposite direction.

Valtor was never the one to blatantly display his emotions but Bloom’s refusal to look him in the eyes was one thing that almost made him boil. He didn’t know why the daughter of those that defeated him had such effect on him and he didn’t like it. He hated not knowing what was running through her head, especially in the place where he was in an obvious disadvantage concerning numbers of the two opposing teams. During his careful observation, he counted eleven of them, and there was only one of him. Not like any of them actually pose any threat, he mused. The only one that is able to even remotely challenge me is the one I’m dancing with and from this proximity she can be easily taken care of. He studied her posture, how her eyes avoided his at all cost, how her back stood stiff like someone stuck a pole to her spine, how tightly she gripped her skirt as he moved with her elegantly. It was obvious she was not enjoying this. Well then, let’s make you even more uncomfortable.

Without warning, Valtor pulled Bloom closer to his body, upper body completely pressed against hers, one of his legs between both of hers as her head snapped up to look at his cheeky smile. Fire was blazing in her eyes but Valtor didn’t care. He thrived on her reactions. Bloom squeezed the hand that was holding hers in warning but Valtor only gripped the flesh of her hip in response. Devils were dancing in his eyes but to Bloom they looked alive for the first time. Gone was the icy look capable of making even the best trained soldier hesitate before rushing into the battle against him.

He’s genuinely amused by this. She thought. If only be wasn’t having fun at my expense, I might’ve let it slide. Valtor twirled her around other dancing couples, his graceful steps never flattering, and it occurred to Bloom for the first time that she actually didn’t step on his toes even once.

“How are you doing this?” She asked him as he swung her away from himself, only to bring her in again, her back to his front, both of his hands gripping her hips. In her peripheral vision, she saw him rise his eyebrow. “I’ve never been good at dancing.”

Valtor smirked. “Perhaps you’ve never had a good enough partner.”

Judging by the tone of his voice, he was mocking Sky openly so Bloom miscalculated and stepped with the heel of her foot onto his polished shoe. She heard him grunt as, what she assumed was a curse, left his mouth. She smiled. If you play with fire, you’re gonna get burned.

“What happened to my parents?” Her next question made him quirk an eyebrow and she saw his eyes widen for a second before he regained his bearings.

“What did Faragonda tell you?” He answered her questions with one of his own and that made her irrationally angry for some reason.

“I asked you first.” She bit her tongue before insults started spewing out of her mouth. She realized long ago that snarky comments only made him more angry so she wasn’t willing to risk her one chance. “Answer me.”

“Do you think you are in position to demand anything, heiress of the lost kingdom?” Anger was starting to creep up in his voice as he dipped her low and snapped her back up harsher than necessary.

Bloom gasped as she suddenly found herself in an almost horizontal position. “You promised.”

Valtor assumed their previous position, except this time he lowered his head so his breath would graze her neck when he spoke. He sighed and goosebumps rose on Bloom’s skin as his hot breath washed over her collarbones and sternum.

“The truth is, I do not know what happened to your parents. I was imprisoned before the final battle. As far as I’m aware, ancient witches were the last to see them.”

Bloom swallowed. “That’s not Faragonda’s version.”

Valtor laughed, though his laugh was somehow bitter. “And you, as a good fairy, believe everything that your headmistress says don’t you?”

“And who am I supposed to trust? You?”

“Have you ever wondered why,” he repositioned her hand slightly as he side stepped to avoid the couple that was directly on a collision course with them. The sudden movement made the lock of Bloom’s hair wiggle out of her bun. “your headmistress send bunch of barely legal girls to suicide missions against the powerful enemies such as myself?”

“Because she trusts us?”

“Because she has an underlying motive.” He continued when Bloom scoffed. “Think about it. Can you honestly tell me your headmistress provides you with all the available information before she sends you off into battles?”

His question made her think of all the times Faragonda withheld the valuable information because she deemed it necessary and she bit her lip as realization hit her. “That doesn’t make her evil.”

“I never said it made her evil.” Smirk once again climbed on her face. “She’s cunning alright, but not cunning enough to be considered evil.”

“What’s her underlying motive according to your expertise?”

He shrugged carelessly. “Everybody needs someone to do their dirty work.”

“Like you have Trix?” Bloom raised her eyebrows in question.

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned. “Those three are as incompetent as they get.”

They danced in surprisingly comfortable silence for a few seconds, Valtor’s capable hands leading them. “You never answered my question.” Bloom said.

“What question?”

“How are you doing this?” She tilted her head slightly to their intertwined hands.

The edge of Valtor’s lips turned upwards. “You know how I’m doing it.”

Bloom frowned in confusion. “No, I actually really don’t.”

“Yes you do.” She was about to open her mouth to protest and to ask him what the hell he’s playing at, but he was faster than her. “You just have to let yourself feel it.”

Bloom’s shoulders tensed as the feeling of her native fire burning spread across her whole body. Okay, this is new.

“Pretty impressive, don’t you think?”

Bloom locked eyes with Valtor as he bent slightly in the knees, his hands gripped her hips tightly and her hands automatically came to rest on his broad shoulders, as he lifted her up and then, with care she didn’t know he was capable of, lowered her back to the ground. There was something hypnotic about his eyes and Bloom found herself unable to look away as she fought to regain her breath once her feet touched the ground again.

Whatever moment they shared was interrupted by a horrendous sound of alarm blaring and all the lights going off at the same time as explosion sounded somewhere above them. Valtor smirked as Bloom recoiled from him as if he burned her. Her hands lit on fire as people started screaming around her and moving away from them.

Valtor could hear Bloom’s friends calling her name as they pushed through the crowd of panicked guests.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it!?” Anger was obvious in her eyes and Valtor found himself fascinated as the fiery glow from her hands reflected in her irises. What he would do to have her on his side.

He shook himself out of his stupor as he snapped his fingers, letting his disguise slip off. Short brown hair and boyish look was replaced by long strawberry blond hair and his face morphed back into high cheekbones and sharp jaw. “I would love to continue our conversation,” he raised his arm and shot blindly towards the ceiling, blowing a huge hole into it. “however, I believe that my time has run out.”

Distant flashes lit up and Winx finally emerged from the crowd, sparkly outfits and huge wings on point. Bloom was the only one that remained in her normal attire, her hands showing no sign of burning out anytime soon, as she kept shooting daggers at Valtor with her eyes.

“It’s a shame I wasn’t able to answer more of your questions, Bloom. But I don’t think this is our last meeting.” Valtor grinned, thirty two pearly white teeth on display. “Besides,” he drawled as Icy flew from the direction of the vault Amplificarum was locked in, green gem standing out against the pale skin of her hand. “you know where to find me.”

“Solar energy!” Stella’s arm shot up, spell hurtling straight towards Valtor, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash as his hand rose to absorb the spell.

“Stop in the name of the law!” Armed soldiers and specialists started breaking through, their weapons and swords drawn and ready for a fight.

Valtor’s laugh echoed in the room as he shot off towards the hole in the ceiling, his mouth reciting the spell Bloom was quite familiar with. “Have the taste of your own medicine, princess of Solaria.”

Bloom barely had time to put up a shield as Stella’s own amplified spell was hurled back to them, painting the whole room in white hot glow, forcing everyone to close their eyes so they don’t go blind.

When Bloom finally gathered enough strength to open her eyes, Valtor was nowhere to be seen and people, specialists, guards and her team were slowly climbing back on their feet. Remnants of Stella’s spell still lingered in the air, making the room uncomfortably bright and forcing Bloom to squint.

“He did it again.” Stella spoke next to her and Bloom nodded absentmindedly as Stella continued looking around. “He used a heightened version of my spell… it’s a miracle no one’s been hurt.”

Bloom shook her head. “I don’t think he meant to hurt anyone Stell. He obviously needed a distraction to get away.”

“He doesn’t want unnecessary pain and destruction… you told me that’s what he said to you on Andros.”

Bloom nodded. “I think he managed to fulfill his promise, for once.”

Bloom looked up where Valtor made his exit and couldn’t help but to think that the chessboard once again tilted in his favor.

[savagenutella46]

Who I’d Be - 2 of 2

Part 1 <- did I do that right? Sorry in advance.

Inspired by m3owww’s statue of ice

"She can't know, Timmy." Marinette whispers, wincing at the tight grip Tim has on her elegant green-silk dress, clutching it so hard wrinkles begin to form. Janet will have her head for those later.

They're standing in the corner, shouldered off from the rest of the Gala by a lone velvet curtain covering the long window sitting beside them, while Tim grasps onto her dress and pleads.

"Why not? She'd love to come! She'd be so proud of you." Marinette winced again, the wholly untruth of those words invisible to her twelve-year old brother, who's eyes are so innocent and excited. She looks down at him with a brief smile, and gently extracts her dress from his hold.

"Timothy." A pointed look, to show she is done with arguing with him about the conversation. "I assure you, Janet will not know of the exhibit prior to your mouth, so you will do your best to shut it." Formal language with Tim will always turn the sparkle off in his eye, the excited glint disappearing, and as much as it brings a hammering wallow to her heart, she swallows the regret harshly down her throat.

"Look, Tim. She's never been a fan of my photography. She would rather go to your parent-teacher conference." She plasters on a fake smile as she says the words, and they practically grind against her teeth as they fall out of her mouth.

He's been begging her to tell their mother about the photography exhibit for days on end now, and she can't give in now. He doesn't know about what happened to her old camera, and he never will. It was in pieces by the end of dinner, that day.

Tim sags his shoulders and sighs, putting on an unimpressed look at the mention of parent-teacher conferences. "Whatever." He turns around and reenters the ongoing Gala without another word.

Marinette swallows her plea for him to come back, please, and sighs. She looks down at the wrinkles in her—

—satin dress, and Janet, an almost unnoticeable twitch of her jaw, displays her disdain for the tiny creases at her hip. Marinette breathes a sigh of relief and feels a drop of sweat roll down the side of her neck when Janet turns back to the fellow business partner she had been conversing with before Marinette caught her attention by walking back into the room.

"Are you okay?" She flinches at the unexpected hand on her shoulder—jumps a little too noticeably to just be nerves, settling once she notes the hand is smaller than Jack's.

Marinette turns around, and suddenly, her vision is spilled over with a bright worried blue peering into her own eyes, searching for anything and everything, leaving her bare, almost as if they were stripping the secrets from her very own soul.

She must've looked surprised, because the voice quickly started to speak again, soothing her downtrodden nerves with a surprisingly gentle voice. "Sorry, you looked backed up for a moment there." Marinette clears her throat and spares a quick—panicked—glance back at Janet's back before settling back on the boy, who's followed her gaze with an almost imperceptible furrow in his eyebrow.

"It's fine, did you need something?" The boy's lips quirk up for a second before flickering his gaze down to her midsection and up again.

"Your hands are bleeding." Marinette's eyebrows shoot up, tearing away her eyes from the boy to take a glance at her clenched hands, where her nails have penetrated the skin and blood was oozing out.

"Oh," She breathes, and unclenches the fingers from their grip to reveal crescent-shaped welts in the heel of her palms. The boy takes a warm and surprisingly gentle hand to each of hers and begins to tug her along the floor, almost bumping into several ladies with long, expensive dresses who each took a turn to glare at her once they saw who was dragging her.

Huh, they must not be a fan of this guy.

"So, what's your name?" She turns her gaze back to him, and he's already peering at her with a slight turn of his head and a tiny grin. She never knew such a small upturn of lips could convey so much emotion, so much gentleness, but she finds herself not wanting to tear her eyes away from it.

"Oh, Uh—Marinette, Marinette Drake."

"Jason Todd." She swallows harshly as she realizes just who he is.

"You—"

"Yeah. Not really a big deal." He turns his head back to watch where he's going, and she finds herself going cold under the loss of Jason's gaze. Marinette mentally scolds herself and lets him pull her into a secluded room away from the Gala, momentarily breaking away to grab a first-aid kit from a fancy wooden cabinet.

Jason rummages through the white kit, "That woman, she's your mom?" She can almost decipher an undertone of scorn from his voice. Marinette coughs and looks away, a prickly feeling rattling its way up her arms and fingers at the slightly mention of her mother.

"Yes." The painting on the beige walls looks very interesting right now as she feels the weight of his piercing stare on her shoulders.

"Figured. She was lookin' at you real weird. Like she wanted to shoot an arrow in between your eyeballs." Marinette's head snaps back to Jason, and he has a skeptical look on his face, like he thinks...

No. He's wrong.

Whatever he's thinking, it's wrong.

—But, still, it hurts to wonder.

"You know, I've heard about Jack and Janet Drake, but I've never heard of you. Just Tim, that's his name, right?" She nods, turning her gaze back to the small wrinkles in her once magnificent green dress.

"I tend to keep out of the limelight. Less people to judge me." She hears a huff of laughter from right in front of her, and looks back up to see Jason kneeling before her hands, gently taking both of them in his warm hands, wiping away the blood with a cotton ball.

"I understand that. Still weird though, never would've guessed you even existed if I hadn't seen you right in front of me." The atmosphere around them was slowly starting to get uncomfortable, and Marinette feels as if a frog jumped in her throat and planted itself at the base of her lungs, scratching and strangling her.

"W-weird." She'd never been one for receiving public praise or glory. Never had her parents talk about her with a twinkle in their eye and a found sense of pride in their voice and posture, as if she were the best thing in their lives. No, instead they confined Marinette to her bedroom to waste away.

(What they didn't know, there was a rope she would swing down from her vast window, escaping through the abundant gardens to escape to the library.)

Jason hums in agreement, but not without a disbelieving glance in her direction. Not like she was looking anyway, feeling a nervous sweat start to form on the back of her neck as she stated hard at his hands, who are making their way back down to his own lap.

"All good." She wishes it could be that easy. To slap a bandaid on all the things that made her worthless, and finish the whole ordeal off with an “all good”.

But, no. This is not an “ordeal”. This is her livelihood, her existence. She is—

Who is she?

She’s putting up her photography on her appointed wall space. Snapshots of Gotham at her finest, smog floating through the air, the dim glow of lights as they spill onto the leaf-littered streets. The assault of dirty rain, like cold, hard truth spilling onto the leaves of sweet lies she almost surrounds herself with.

Because she defines herself with photography. She defines herself into computers, hacking the Pentagon at least twice a week.

But, photography without her, it stays the same. Marinette without a passion, she dies and wilts away under the scornful glare of her mother. She is hated, worthless, disgusting, mortifying to mention, as if the utter of her name will bring disgrace upon the Drakes.

Marinette is wearing her finest dress. Leaf-like structures sewn into the bodice, streaking their way down her waist and puffing out to follow the soft ivory dress.

“Woah.” Marinette could’ve sworn, even as someone stands very obviously behind her, looking over her shoulder, that she did not tell a soul about this exhibit.

—Except Barbara Gordon. Marinette turns around, and Barbara appears to be ethereal before her own eyes, ginger hair curled and spilling like a waterfall down her back. A deep mahogany dress fits around her, as if it’s made solely  for the capable woman.

“Babs, you made it.” (Because, Barbara would kill her if she called her anything different.)

Barbara smiles beautifully at Marinette and slaps the boy next to her on the back—the one her uttered such a defining, yet normal word under her work. (Woah—she never thought her work was capable of such a word.)

It’s Jason Todd standing next to Barbara, looking quite fancy himself and staring at her with an awe she’s never seen on anyone before. Marinette smiles at him with familiarity, eyebrows slightly furrowing when he tears his gaze away, suddenly, and a red tint blooms across his cheekbones.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t, besides, this is worth it.” Barbara pulls her gaze back with a warm voice. She continues, “Where’s your parents?” She turns her head and scans over the crowd, before returning back to Marinette with a questioning look. Suddenly, Jason’s eyes are back on her as well.

She fiddles with her thumbs, taken aback by such a question. “Um, uh, they’re—“ Sitting at home, arguing with each other. (They’d decided to skip Tim’s parent teacher conference, for the boy was top of his class, what more did they need to know?) “They’re—they couldn’t make it.”  She coughs, ignoring the apologetic eyes before her.

“So! What do you think?” She smiles, quickly changing the subject, and even though their gazes remain the same for a second, they quickly agree with her non-verbal plea to change the subject.

“It’s great—“

“Wonderful. How do you get your shots so high up? You’d need to be awfully skilled to do that. The amount of dark to light shots of Gotham contrasts perfectly with each other, really shows the side we don’t see.” Jason listed, keeping his eyes on the photos the entire time.

Marinette opens her mouth, gaping at Jason. She’s sure Barbara is doing the same without looking at the older, judging on the cricket-inducing silence coming from Marinette’s left.

Jason seemingly snaps back to reality, shutting his mouth audibly and clearing his throat. “Sorry, you just...” And Marinette finds it in herself to talk once again.

“Thank you, that...really means a lot to me.” Jason looks back at her, and she smiles widely at him, a real, genuine smile she’s sure she’s never produced in her fifteen years.

Jason smiles back with the same intensity and continues to rattle off compliments, ones she knows is coming from his heart, because there’s a heavy blush on his face the entire time.

Maybe she’s found her passion. Maybe this is who she is, because, standing under the bright museum lights, standing next to two unexpected—but welcome— friends who acknowledge her worth, she’s found herself.

She’s Marinette. Just Marinette.

This is who she is. She is something. She is everything she’s ever wanted to be.

Taglist: @jjmjjktth @moonlightstar64 @laurcad123

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Alt Ending, Part 5

Hot take but finals kinda suck

First part

Previous part

Next part

Tag: @solangelo252

You’d think her body would be grateful that she was finally giving it food, but no. She put it in her mouth and instantly felt nauseous. It didn’t even want to go down her throat, and keeping it there felt basically impossible.

But Tim had looked so happy when she had tried, so she forced it down.

(Well, she forced some of it down. If he noticed that a good amount of the food she brought to her mouth actually disappeared into the sleeves and folds of her dress he didn’t say anything.)

Tim started coming by three times a day with food after that. She didn’t complain despite her discomfort, she had really missed him.

Also, he looked stressed out and/or exhausted whenever she saw him. She worried about him. They both had a tendency to overwork themselves when they hit blocks, hell she’d sometimes joined him in his week-long deep dives into cases, but now that she was an outsider looking in… she was kind of shocked she’d ever let it get that far for either of them. When was the last time he’d slept through the night? Taken proper time to clean himself, even? A while, she guessed from the deep bags under his eyes and the way his hair was frayed from running his fingers through it.

“Timmy,” she chirped.

He flashed her a tiny smile. “Hey,” he said, coming over and taking a seat beside her on the bed.

She took the bag from him and set it aside, much to his dismay, but then she reached over and dragged him into some cuddles and he suddenly had new concerns. He groaned into her shoulder.

“Bean, come on, I don’t want to sleep.”

She didn’t let go. “You need to.”

“Don’t have time.”

She rolled her eyes, bringing a hand up to start attempting to smooth out his hair. “You have to sleep eventually.”

“And I do!”

She didn’t answer, which he took to mean she didn’t believe him (a good assumption, she didn’t).

“I do! I get at least a few hours a week.”

“Wow, amazing. I take it back. You totally have a healthy sleep schedule.”

“Worry about yourself, first. You don’t sleep either,” he huffed, but he was starting to relax into her hold nonetheless.

“I’m also literally dead.”

“You used to say you’d sleep when you were dead.”

Marinette scoffed. “Well, to be fair, I thought I’d actually die when I died.”

He gave a short laugh, and she opted not to acknowledge that it was a little forced.

She yawned and laid back with his face in her shoulder. “I’m surprised none of the others have drugged you to get you to sleep yet.”

“They’re too busy drugging B --.” He winced just slightly. “They’ve just got a lot on their plates is all, I’m the least of their worries.”

She didn’t say anything about his tiny slip up, just gave a light hum to say she understood.

She didn’t dare to move until she was completely sure he had nodded off. Even then, she only did so to pick up the food he’d brought for her.

Her nose scrunched a little at the prospect of eating, but when she opened it and saw it was fried rice she perked up a little. She nibbled at her food.

Honestly, she didn’t know if it was working. It seemed to be, but then again most of the things that got better could be attributed to other causes. Her skin was gaining color again, but the bleach may have just started to wear out. She was feeling more energized, but then again she was now getting a total of four cups of coffee a day thanks to Tim and Jason fueling her addiction. Exercise was getting easier and she was packing on muscle again, but she was also working out enough with Dick for it to be explainable that way…

She didn’t know if it was working. She didn’t even know if she WANTED it to work. The plan had been ‘kill Bruce and then quickly off yourself before the others can react’ and not having an instant out was kinda problematic when it came to finishing that plan.

Not that the first part of that plan was working out for her, either. Bruce still hadn’t come to see her. She doubted he ever would at this point.

She didn’t even have a way out, as the door was automated and presumably opened by someone outside.

No. The only way she would ever leave was if she managed to ‘fix’ herself, and that wasn’t happening because there was nothing to fix! She would know. Her entire thing as Ladybug was fixing things.

She looked down at Tim. When he slept all the little wrinkles in his forehead smoothed to make him look much younger. She smiled a little at the sight, pressing a kiss to where she knew the creases usually were.

At least, even if her situation couldn’t be helped, she could still help others.

~

She’d come to expect a routine of sorts, so the moment it was broken even slightly her brain short-circuited.

Duke stood in the doorway as usual, but when she glanced past him…

“Where’s Cass?”

His grin disappeared a little, but he pulled his back to his face with ease. “Wow, I’m really feeling the love here, Mari.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, we both know Cass is the best person to ever exist.”

Duke nodded his agreement and came over to take a seat next to her. She cozied up to him as usual, curled under his arm as he pulled up their newest show on his laptop…

She had a lot of thoughts about Cass being missing.

On the one hand, she just missed her friend’s too-warm body pressed up against her and quiet complaints about how the actors were doing it all wrong.

On the other hand… Marinette was completely aware that they had Cass stopping by as much as she did to check on Marinette, to see if they were making any real progress with her. Cass was a human lie detector, able to detect when someone was going to be dishonest before they’d even realized it themselves, and they’d be stupid not to take advantage that. So, the fact that they were no longer making Cass drop in as often… either they thought she was doing better, or that she never would do better.

Marinette hoped it was the first. She knew it was the second.

She found it harder than usual to enjoy Duke’s snide comments about how dumb and cliche some of the characters were. She turned and pressed her face into his side. The glasses on the bridge of her nose dug into her skin.

Fuck. She was never getting out of there, was she?

She felt his free hand come up to run through her hair and she sighed.

“Duke…”

He pressed pause on the show.

“Tim told me you’re a meta, that you can control light. Can you do it for me?”

There was a beat.

“Why do you ask?”

She laughed a little. “Does it matter? Can’t I just be curious about why my favorite brother didn’t even bother to tell me that he has powers?”

“I thought you already knew. It’s common knowledge.”

She huffed. “Maybe I just prefer to be told things than meticulously look through every piece of information to figure it out.”

“What kind of bat are you?” He joked.

She winced and the hand in his shirt balled it just a fraction tighter. She didn’t respond.

There was a few seconds before he sighed and moved his hand from his hair to her chin, gently pulling her face out of where it was hidden in his side. She refused to meet his eyes.

It was silent again, neither of them sure what to say.

“Here,” he said after a moment, putting his free hand out and making light dance across his palm.

Her face lit up, literally and figuratively, at the sight of the tiny ball of light. She leaned a little closer.

“Aw, it looks like a tiny sun!”

He laughed a little. “Yeah. I can also…”

There was a moment of silence as he concentrated and the tiny ball of light split into the colors of the rainbow. She giggled, reaching out to cup his hand in hers. It was the first non-artificial light she’d seen in months, the first rainbow she’d seen since… Paris, actually.

Well, even if she wouldn’t ever see the outside world again, at least she could still have this little fake sun. It was basically the same, just as good, she told herself. She ignored the tears rolling down her cheeks that were telling her otherwise.

~

She tossed the plastic spoon she’d stolen from one of her meals in the air idly.

The plan had been to turn it into Baby’s First Shank but that probably wasn’t going to work out. Pen to the throat was at about a .01% chance of working, attacking him with a spoon-knife needed a few more zeroes added to that already insanely small number. She gave it a .000000001% chance at best.

Then again, the other option was trying to strangle someone who had an insane height and weight advantage to death before someone else could interfere...

She sighed to herself and put the spoon in her teeth, starting to pull.

She didn’t get very far before she heard the metallic whoosh of the door opening and she barely glanced up to see Dick.

He stared at her from the doorway, his eyebrows slowly raising as he watched her attempt to bite an edge into a spoon of all things.

She pulled it from her mouth with a ‘pop’.

“I think your eyebrows are trying to escape,” she told him.

He blinked at her before rolling his eyes and walking inside fully. “Thanks for the assist. Would have lost them otherwise,” he said sarcastically.

“I’ve seen you lose your phone three minutes after putting it down, Dickie, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He gasped and rested a hand over her heart. “You think that low of me?”

“Lower. I was being nice.”

Dick pouted and walked over to the bed. She didn’t think much of it until he was diving onto her stomach. She put her hands out in an attempt to soften the blow, but it wasn’t enough to save her. She groaned in pain as his extremely hard head made contact with her not-so-hard stomach.

“FUCK. This is why your parents called you Dick, y’know!”

He only laughed at her.

Despite herself, she gave him a smile.

She rested her head back in the pillows for a moment (mostly just to catch all the breath she’d lost) before pushing him off. “Ready?”

He groaned into her comforter before rolling onto the floor. “‘Kay.”

Marinette grinned as she took a seat beside him, starting her usual stretches. He pushed himself up to sit with minimal groaning and started working on his shoulders.

It was quiet for a while as they stretched.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek and kept her eyes on her foot when she spoke next: “Dick?”

She could feel his gaze on her.

“I… can I have some more stuff? Everything here is so boring. I just… I want new things to do. Or, at least, new things to look at.”

There was a long silence between them. Anxiety bubbled under her skin. She switched legs so she could gauge his expression through her bangs. His expression was carefully neutral.

She cringed.

“Obviously I’m not ungrateful! You guys have all been really nice and accommodating! I get food and a phone and, honestly, that’s fine --!”

“Mari!”

Her mouth snapped closed.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. Anyone would be bored here. I can talk to them. It’ll probably depend on what you want.”

She finally looked at him properly, eyes wide. She really hadn’t been expecting that to work.

He slowly pulled his legs to him to sit criss-cross applesauce, head resting on his hand. “I can probably get some baking things, a sketchbook, just blunt objects in general. Deadly, but not before someone could get there.”

Marinette nodded her understanding, a smile making its way across her face.

“You’re the best.”

“You constantly say Duke and Cass are the best.”

She was torn between agreeing with herself and flattering him. Since she wanted something, she decided on flattery: “That was, like, a few hours ago. I’ve grown since then. You’re my favorite now, Dickie.”

“Can I get that as my ringtone?”

“Only if you only use it to mess with Jay.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it.

~

The door whoosed open and she barely moved her head to look at it.

She froze.

Bruce?

No. No way. There was no way in hell.

But was there? Cass HAD stopped coming. Maybe she had somehow convinced them that everything was working out and everything was fine.

Marinette hadn’t done anything differently, though, so that probably wasn’t it…

Oh. Oh shit.

Maybe she was actually going insane. Because there was no way the bats would have made that kind of mistake by letting Bruce in when she was still intent on murdering him. He had to be a hallucination, because nothing else really made sense. Kwami, Tim was going to be SO smug about this one.

Actually, no, he didn’t have to know.

Her gaze slipped away from Fake Bruce and back to the dots on her ceiling. Because, as everyone knows, that if you don’t acknowledge hallucinations they go away…

“Marinette,” Fake Bruce said, trying to trick her into outing herself as losing it.

“Marinette,” he tried again, starting his way over.

She did her best to ignore the footsteps and the way the bed shifted when he sat down. No wonder schizophrenics fell for this shit, this was all so real…

Except... weren’t schizophrenics not supposed to be able to tell what was real and what wasn’t? Wouldn’t her knowing (thinking?) he was fake be an indication that he was actually real? Or was that just her mind trying to justify believing it?

Marinette bit inside of her cheek and let herself look at Fake Bruce again.

He cracked a smile for her. A hand reached over and pushed some hair away from her face. “Hey,” he said.

She hesitated.

It would suck if this all was fake, the others would get confirmation and she really wouldn’t have a way out. But if it was real then this was her only shot. If it was real Cass would be watching the cameras to see what she was thinking and she would know for sure that Marinette was still intent on killing Bruce…

Fuck.

Marinette pushed herself into a sitting position and looked Maybe-Bruce up and down before grabbing him by the front of his suit and pulling him into a hug. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes when he hugged her back.

“Fake.”

The man tensed underneath her and then sighed as he pulled back.

He gave her an awkward smile. “I’m sorry, Marinette.”

She shook her head slightly and fell back. With a flick of her wrists the knife she’d created out of her plastic spoon was in her hands and she absently tossed it at the hallucination. Either it would make him disappear or it would look like it stabbed him and she could pretend that it actually happened.

But then it didn’t do either of those things.

Her eyebrows knit together when the spife shattered upon impact.

He looked unconcerned as he gently swept all the pieces into his hand and then put them in his pockets.

“The fuck?”

“Language,” he chided lightly.

She grinned. “You really need to work on your ‘Bruce’. Accepting a hug that quickly is one thing but chiding someone for language? In OUR family? I’m pretty sure he gave that up by Jason.”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “I’m Superman.”

“Oh.” She blinked a few times before shrugging to herself. “Okay. You look just like Bruce. It’s kinda creepy.”

“Yeah, trust me, we know. It’s pretty helpful, though. One time a person tried to assassinate Bruce and ended up fighting me. It wasn’t their day.”

She smiled a little, but it didn’t last very long. She fell back in her pillows and glared at the ceiling. “This sucks.”

“I’m sorry this all happened to you. You’re just a kid.”

She rolled her eyes. She’d long-since given up on denying that something had happened to her. Not because she no longer believed it, but because it wasn’t worth the effort. No one ever believed her when she said it.

(Could she blame them? No. She almost believed it herself just a few moments before. Still annoying, though.)

Instead of saying any of that, though, she brought a grin to her face.

“You and B should switch houses for April Fools. See if anyone notices anything.”

~

She really should have noticed something was up when her coffee didn’t energize her at all.

It had all been going fine. She was making Jason dispose of all the pieces of food she’d used sleight of hand to get away with not eating (she was still a little bitter about him stealing her pen and this was the most she could really do to get back at him, compromised as she was). They made idle conversation, mostly just about how Damian had got himself a new pet cat that he had named BatCat (though, apparently, they had heard him slip up and call him Charles a few times). They debated over how good that name was and the merit of Jason’s suggestion -- BatPussy, of course -- as she drank her third cup of coffee of the day.

It was about halfway through her drink that she began to notice that something was off. She squinted at Jason suspiciously.

“Decaf?” She asked, her voice worryingly sweet.

He raised his eyebrows and tried to look unimpressed despite stepping back a good half-step. “Please, if it was decaf classical conditioning still would’ve made it work at least a little.”

She opened her mouth to retort, then realized he was right. Or, at least, she was pretty sure. She couldn't seem to think of anything against it.

She frowned, looking down at her drink again and swirling the contents around. She drank the rest of it, trying to figure out why exactly it wasn’t working.

Was she already at the point where caffeine had little effect on her again? She didn’t think she was that bad yet… hell, she probably couldn’t be because she was depending on others to give her her fix…

She shook her head slightly and then quickly realized that was a bad idea. Pain stabbed through her skull and she stumbled into Jason. The plastic thermos slipped from her fingertips and went rolling across the floor. Her head crashed into his chest and arms were quick to wrap around her.

“You got shitty coffee, try a different place next time,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

He laughed a little. “Yeah, okay, kid. I’ll be sure to do that.”

She nodded as much as her headache would allow and felt the arms around her slip down to pick her up. She blinked her eyes open blearily and regretted it when the light attempted to murder her via knife to the head.

Heh. Little light particles with little knives.

Wait.

Did she get a concussion? Somehow? Without getting hit?

She buried her face in his shoulder and it was then, as he set her in bed and tucked her in, that she realized what had happened.

“Bitch,” she murmured above whatever drug they had put in her drink.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and she could do little more than scrunch up her nose and vaguely wave him off. Her eyes fell closed again.

~

Marinette woke up a while later.

The first thing she noticed was that the lights were dimmer, something she didn’t have to open her eyes to see because her head wasn’t pounding as much.

Then she realized a person was with her. They had entwined themselves around her, tangled their limbs with hers. They needn’t have bothered, everything felt like lead. She wouldn’t be moving for quite some time.

… why was she being held down? Oh no. That was probably bad, huh?

Marinette made a sound in the back of her throat and started trying to shift away from the person pressed against her back. She needed to see who they were. They didn’t bother to tighten their hold on her, she wasn’t really getting anywhere.

In fact, a hand stopped holding her down. Instead, it came up to pet her hair.

Oh? This was nice.

A voice by her head told her it was all okay. After a moment she realized she recognized that voice. She smiled sleepily. Cass. She liked Cass. She pressed closer to her and was rewarded with a hand rubbing up and down one of her arms.

She nearly fell asleep again. Cass was safe, Marinette was safe… the warmth against her and the soothing touch… of course, it certainly helped that the drug was still in her system and she was exhausted...

But then her mind wandered back to her first question. Why WAS Cass holding her down? Why did they drug her in the first place?

She moved so her hair could block some of the light and then cautiously cracked her eyes open.

The batboys were all moving things inside almost silently. Jason was carrying an entire fridge on his own. Dick and Damian were arguing over the positioning of the table they had just brought in through angry hand motions. Tim and Duke were working together on… was that a gaming set?

And she was being held down because the door was wide open.

Marinette looked at the doorway for just a moment longer. She allowed herself to imagine getting out and swinging through the city with her lasso, allowed herself to pretend she could lay in the grass, allowed herself to believe that she could see the sun and the stars and just breathe fresh air again…

And then she closed her eyes and sunk into Cass’s grip.

What was the point in trying? Even if she could somehow beat out all six of the people in the room with her and get past whatever security Bruce had to have outside of the room all while drugged… then what? No money or idea where she was… and she’d be running from the bats of all people…

Yeah. Useless. She curled up and allowed sleep to take her again.

~

Quite a while later she woke up and blinked a few times when she realized she wasn’t the only person in bed. At first she thought it was just Cass or Tim, they were the most likely culprits, but then she realized everyone had managed to cram themselves onto the bed with her. Her and Cass had gotten brushed to the side of the bed to make space for Tim, Dick, and Damian. Jason had collapsed across the end of the bed -- presumably for space, but Duke was laying half on top of him so that obviously hadn’t worked out.

Marinette smiled faintly and buried her face back into the crook of Tim’s neck.

~

When she woke up again, most of the drug flushed from her system (somehow…?), she thought she was alone.

This was fine. She was able to stretch out and sit up.

She blinked when she saw Damian, who was sitting on her floor and playing a video game.

Huh? Video game?

She looked around her room confusedly. The bats had basically made her a one-room apartment, complete with kitchenette and a tiny study area. Of course, it was much higher quality than the apartment she’d had, with a high tech gaming system and a little dining area and holy shit that was a MINI LIBRARY?

Wild.

“You’re finally up.”

She hummed lightly as an agreement. She crawled over to the end of the bed and smiled when he handed her a twizzler. It was objectively one of the worst candies, but she liked having something to do. She twirled it in her hand idly.

“Do you think… do you think it’s working?”

She frowned confusedly and dropped off the bed to sit beside him on the second beanbag chair. She chanced a quick glance in his direction to gauge how he was feeling... his expression didn’t let anything on other than that he was thinking hard, though she was pretty sure that was about the game.

“Gonna elaborate on that?”

He clicked his tongue. “Are you going to join the Undead Robins Club?”

She grinned at him. “I wasn’t a Robin.”

“You know what I mean.”

Her smile disappeared a little and she trained her eyes on the game. “I don’t know.”

“You know we never will know for sure, right?”

She blinked. She hadn’t expected anyone to acknowledge it. They were the bats, they were never going to chance taking off her glasses because if they were wrong and she WASN’T better… well, it wasn’t the kind of mistake they could easily come back from.

“Yeah, I know,” she said after a few moments.

“Do you care?”

“Doesn't really matter if I do. It won’t change anything.”

He frowned. “That’s not answering my question.”

She bit her cheek. “I… yes. I care. It still doesn’t matter.”

He looked like he was going to argue, but instead he just went back to playing the game.

“Damiiiiiiiii…” she whined and, when he gave a vague grunt to show he was paying attention, she continued with “... shouldn’t I get to play first? It’s mine.”

“You slept in too long,” he said without looking up.

She huffed. “Only ‘cause I was drugged!”

“Unfortunate.”

She got off the beanbag chair and whacked him over the head with it. He barely acknowledged it outside of an annoyed click of his tongue.

She huffed and pulled the chair back to herself to sit again. “Is it two player?”

“Nope.”

“You’re a bitch.”

He clicked his tongue again.

She pouted for a little while longer before looking back at the screen with a smile. “... heard you got a cat named Charles. Wanna talk about him?”

Damian’s face lit up. “Can I?”

“Only if you let me play.”

He looked pained. If he gave it to her then he’d be giving her something she’d want, which was a sibling no-no, but if he didn’t then she probably wouldn’t listen to him gush about his cat. A few moments went by before he reluctantly handed over the controller.

She beamed and scooted her chair over to rest her head on his shoulder. She could feel him stiffen underneath her but, when she didn’t move again outside of what was necessary to play the game, he relaxed again.

“I thought you were going to listen,” he chided lightly when she didn’t take a break between levels.

“I can listen and play.”

Damian sighed a little and shook his head.

“You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want --.”

“I’m getting to it! So, he’s a black cat that apparently hadn’t been adopted because everyone thought he was evil so the pet store was going --.”

~

Marinette noticed something was up the minute the door opened.

First of all, it was Duke and Damian. That’s all that really needs to be said. Those two together… it’s never a good thing.

Secondly, they were there as Signal and Robin. Most of the time the others avoided even talking about their lives as vigilantes for fear of setting her off in one way or another, but here they were showing up in their suits? No, something weird was going on.

“Hey, Mari, can we skip a fight and you just put a bag over your head and let us pick you up?” Tried Duke.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You want to…? Huh?”

“We don’t really have much time to explain. I’ll tell you on the way.”

Damian held up a potato sack and some twine, which really wasn’t all that encouraging.

She hesitated. “... what’s something only you two would know?”

“Really?” Said Damian with more than a little exasperation.

“Hey, we’re all bats here. I’m not moving until you prove you’re who you say you are.”

(Technically, if they were really Duke and Damian, they could fight her and do it anyways. She probably couldn't beat both of them at once. Still, that kind of fight would hurt all of them and she really didn’t want to have to do it at the moment.)

Duke hesitated before shrugging. “Your favorite ice cream flavor is mint. Which I don’t understand. Just brush your teeth if you like that taste so much.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Alright, you’re who you say you are. Robin?”

“… early on I lied and said that Nightwing’s real hero name was actually BatNightwing to mess with you both.”

She frowned. “I forgot about that. You’re a dick.”

“No, Nightwing’s a Dick. He’s a Damian.”

Marinette was THIS CLOSE to fighting them anyways.

But she didn’t. She was kinda curious about where all this was going. So, she allowed them to bind her hands and slip a bag over her head. Arms wrapped around her -- she didn’t really care who it was -- and she was lifted off the ground. Then, they were walking.

Part of her wondered if this was some kind of test. They were checking to see how compliant she was or how likely she would be to run once outside. Maybe they had Superman on call in case she tried to escape.

She really couldn’t tell.

She didn’t think that they had any reason to take her out of the perfectly safe and well-stocked place they had put her in.

Maybe her location had been compromised and they were moving her to a backup? No, that didn’t make sense. Duke made sense for transport, Damian didn’t. Damian was one of the worst fighters in the family (he was in no way BAD at fighting, of course, it was just a byproduct of being in the game the shortest amount of time and not being a meta) and he was the second most likely person to end up fighting her after Jason. What the fuck?

Wait, Duke said he’d explain on the way.

“What’s going on?”

“New idea on how to bring you back,” said Duke simply.

Well, she guessed that was more information than she’d previously had. She’d take it for now.

She heard a quiet whooshing noise and frowned confusedly, only to feel herself get set down… somewhere. She felt carpeting underneath her, which meant she was in… a house? No. A car, she thought as she noticed the quiet hum of an engine. She’d been put in the fucking trunk. She kicked out as much as she could without knowing exactly where they were and gave a cry of protest, but then the lid was clicked over her head and she was thrown into uncomfortably complete silence.

She scowled to herself. She shouldn’t have thrown her spife at Superman, it would have been really useful right then. She tested the bindings against her hands and winced at how tight they were. Did they really use zip ties? Those were notoriously bad for circulation.

… oh. Yeah. She was dead. That actually wasn’t that bad, then.

Still annoying. Hard to get out of. Assholes. She wondered if it was worth dislocating her arms…

Yeah. Probably. If she could get out then she would be OUT.

She flipped herself onto her stomach. She pulled her feet up to her arms and then started pushing back. Her body strained in protest and she bit down on the front of the bag over her head to stop herself from making any sounds.

And then she felt a pop in her left shoulder and a flare of pain and the makeshift gag wasn’t enough to hold back her sobs. Her arm throbbed and it was only made worse when they reached the city proper and the roads started getting choppy. Every little bump in the road sent a new wave of pain rolling through her and all she could do was ride it out.

They started hitting smoother roads what felt like hours later... it was kind of concerning because she had no clue where they could be, those were uncommon in Gotham, but at least she no longer felt like she was going to die every few seconds.

She took a few seconds to bring her breathing back to normal before she started slowly wiggling her arms out under her butt and legs and then they were in front of her. Great. She picked herself up as much as she could in the tiny space, checked her angle mentally, relaxed her muscles, and then dropped down on her shoulder to get it back in place.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. It felt weird and still kind of hurt but at least it was mostly better.

She pulled the bag off of her head and relished in the slightly fresher air.

She looked down at the zip ties on her wrists and she sighed a little. Time to do that hack that looked stupid but actually worked if the kidnappers were stupid enough to leave you alone.

She brought her feet up, untied the laces of her shoes, and tied them back around the ties. Then she set to work trying to saw at the zip tie.

She paused when she heard the low rumbling of a plane. Were they near an airport? Oh. That was going to be a problem. She went faster.

Unfortunately, Marinette didn’t get very far before there was a click and the trunk opened.

She cried out in pain at the sudden light and squeezed her eyes shut, turning to press her face into the carpeted interior.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her out of the trunk. Before she could do much to look around so she could get her bearings and make herself a portal, the bag was forced over her head again and a strong grip on her arm (the good one, thankfully) kept her from pulling it off again. Then someone knelt in front of her and fixed her shoelaces.

“Really, NightMare?” Duke said, unimpressed.

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

Damian scoffed.

Someone picked her up again and she sighed as they carried her along. They were definitely at an airport. She could hear people milling about. She was sure it was Gotham, too; she could feel a few stares, but most people seemed comfortable with the vigilantes among them.

Then came the normal airport stuff. Walking. Some arguing over whether she counted as luggage or if she could go through the metal detector with them. Sitting. A little chatting with civilians. More walking. More sitting. Very light chatter, just formalities and asking for drinks (Duke, who she figured out was the person carrying her, slipped a box of orange juice up her bag so she could have something). And then they were in the air.

After some time in the air the bag and zip ties were removed. She kept her eyes closed to let them adjust to light naturally and instead focused on rubbing feeling back into her hands.

One English alphabet later, she opened her eyes.

They were in a private plane (or was it a jet?), which explained why it was as quiet as it was. Damian was drinking a glass of water and reading something on his phone. Duke was nibbling at some complimentary pretzels and working a Rubix Cube. They both glanced in her direction from time to time, but they seemed pretty confident that she couldn’t do anything while they were in the air (which was true, but annoying).

She looked around a little more and found that there were no other bats.

“Um… where’re…?” She trailed off, unsure.

They stopped glancing in her direction, ignoring her and her question. The frown that had been on her face since pretty much when they’d first taken her from the room deepened.

“Do they… do they know what’s going on?”

The silence spoke volumes.

She rested her head in her hand. “I’m going to need something stronger than a juice box for this.”

Duke sighed but called a friendly looking woman inside to get her some wine. Marinette and Duke sipped at a glass each (Damian wasn’t allowed any, something Marinette took a little too much joy in). She scrutinized the two over the rim of her glass.

“Are you going to explain or let me guess? Because letting me guess is going to end up with me assuming you’re doing something way worse than you actually are.”

Damian sighed a little. “It’s hard to explain.”

“We’re in a plane. I’m going to guess we have time. Start talking.”

“We drugged them all -- except Orphan, she’s just out doing patrols and won’t know what’s going on for a good few hours -- and grabbed you.”

Duke gave Damian a pleading look to make him continue for them.

Damian, reluctantly, put down his phone to talk. “Signal and I have an idea on how to bring you back from the dead. The others won’t like it, especially not Red Hood, so we’re making the executive decision to not ask.”

Marinette didn’t know a lot about when Jason had been resurrected, it was a sensitive subject so it was avoided pretty much at all costs. All she’d gathered was that it was a rather messy experience for everyone involved.

She rested her head on her hand and then looked back down at her drink. She snatched the bottle from the table and, when Duke protested, set him a glare and started drinking directly from it. They were actually going to bring her back through probably shady means. She was NOT drunk enough for this shit.

~

She got stuffed in a suitcase when they left, which was extremely insulting (and a little embarrassing, if she were honest).

She rested her head against the side of the suitcase and listened to the dull thrum of people talking on the other side. She vaguely recognized the language, both Nino and Damian both spoke it when frustrated, but the words were all Greek to her.

Well, they were all Arabic, but you get the point.

~

She didn’t even realize she had been asleep until she was awoken. Rather abruptly. The zipper for the suitcase was opened and she tumbled out. Marinette cursed in French as she hit the ground and laid there, her entire body aching from not moving for so long. She hadn’t known her face could get pins and needles, she wished she could go back to her blissful ignorance.

“Are you sure about this? You want to save her?” A woman’s voice said above her, sounding a little skeptical.

Marinette forced herself to roll over so she could glare at whoever it was, she knew when she was being insulted, and then she blinked up at the new person.

A tall woman with dark skin and hair and a body to die for stood above her, hands on her hips.

“Holy shit, Dami. You got terrible genes. She’s gorgeous and you’re… you? What?”

Duke hid laughter behind his hand and Damian scoffed.

Amusement flickered behind Talia’s ‘I could kill you before you could even scream’ expression. “I’ve changed my mind. I like her.”

“Cool,” said Marinette as she quickly pushed herself to her feet. Her body wasn’t ready for that, but that was the least of her concerns. The pretty lady was ushering her along and Marinette wasn’t going to hold her up if she could help it.

“How did you die?” Talia said, which was an interesting choice for conversation.

Marinette shrugged, though, unconcerned. “I don’t know, really, there wasn’t this ‘oh, wow, I’m dead’ moment. My guess is I either drowned in acid or died of dehydration at some point. Does it change anything or…?”

“No. Just curious.”

“Oh. Good.”

“... do you not know why you’re here?” Asked Talia carefully after a moment’s contemplation.

Marinette shook her head. “Nah, they’ve been avoiding telling me. I assume it’s painful.”

“... yes. Very.”

The four lapsed into silence after that.

Marinette felt weirdly on edge as they walked through the facility, her hands rubbing the goosebumps that were prickling along her arms. The further they walked, the more on edge she felt. They were approaching something unnatural, something so undeniably WRONG, and she needed to GO.

But Damian and Duke were behind her, probably sensing her unease, and running ahead would only get her there faster… so she walked.

She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to ground herself.

But, the moment they stepped into the room, she froze.

Green water. That apparently hurts.

Acid.

“FUCK.”

Duke was ready for her to run, apparently, stood in front of the only exit and ready for a fight before she could even get a full step away from the hell that awaited her.

“No no no no no no wait it’s fine I actually don’t mind being dead it’s fine guys please --.”

Damian grabbed her arms and she choked out a sob,

“Damian god damn it I was kidding about the mom thing you’re perfectly attractive or whatever I promise I really didn’t think it would hurt you that much we don’t need to do this let’s tALK IT OUT --!”

“It’s not about that --!”

Duke managed to get a hold on one of her legs and lifted and all she had to struggle against either of them was a foot and she was SO fucked --.

“PLEASE DUKE PLEASE I DON’T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT I PROMISE I CAN BE BETTER YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GO I’LL BE FINE WE CAN FIGURE SOMETHING OUT PLEASE --.”

Talia grabbed her last leg and she sobbed as she thrashed around uselessly. They started dragging her towards the acid. Nothing to do no way to run no help in sight no --.

“PLEASE! I PROMISE I’LL BE BETTER PLEASE JUST LET ME GO!”

And they did. They let her go and she fell into the acid.

[theinsanecrayonbox]

Fairly Odder: episode 1

ok, the first image already unnerving; animated Timmy with mouth closed and no teeth showing. yikes! also this narrator doesn’t sound epic enough...also the art style feels slightly off. i didn’t catch it immediately, but then when you jump to old clips (with different aspect ratios, ew, should’ve camouflaged that better) it’s high lighted more. it’s probably the hand drawn vs flash vs whatever they’re using now, i know. it’s just a minor thing. but also...ok, i give points for including s0 in the flashback clips, but that really highlights the style differences. (kp, you can’t pause and go on 5 minute rambles every 12 seconds of the show, geeze, you can’t turn this into your netflix death note review)

ew....constant laugh track, really?? i hope that’s just a gag to start off with and not in the series proper, cause that’ll get annoying...but it probably is standard cause from like the, oh, 4 distinct henry danger episodes i’ve seen i think it was standard there. idk.

also, yeah, i am not a fan of this guy being Timmy. it doesn’t quite feel right??

i give them points here; in channel chasers we saw Tim keep his fairies until he was college aged, and here he is loosing them when he’s off to college...or actually, he’s kicking them out. that feels...very off. i get it’s partially a joke with the kids escaping their parents when they go to college type of thing, but he’s actually kicking them out??? i  thought it was a “well i’m loosing you guys anyways but if i hand you off to my cousin, at least i know you’re in good hands”, you know, like Andy giving away woody and co to Molly. also “oh you know my cousin Viv” uh...no...she’s never been mentioned once before here my dude; if you’re headed off to college, and she’s 13, that means there’s a minimum 5 years between you two so...probably should’ve sure, but we haven’t. 

also also Wanda, “you can’t just give us away to someone else” uh...he has in the past. remember the one episode where he gave you guys to Tootie for a short time?? i mean, that was temporary sure, and this is permeant, but it still has happened. and again, he’s really beyond the too old, you should be scheming a way for him to retain his memory of you at the very least. (you’re not even 2 min into the episode and you have multiple paragraphs, geeze, i am not going to survive this)

gamer Jorgen?? sure.

oh wow, Ty is terrible. your daughter has never met the woman you married or her son before now?? seriously?? did Viv not attend her dad’s own wedding? i thought i’d read that Ty was a widower, but is he actually divorced and that’s why Viv hasn’t met her step family yet?? also...Ty too looks weird...and yet at the same time, i can totally buy he’s related to Daran’s live action Dad. i do feel for Viv though, as i too hate suddenly having new people thrown at me...HOWEVER as i said, she really should’ve met these people before now...OH giving it another 10 seconds from my pause to type, Ty just married this woman like yesterday, ok, that makes sense why Viv hasn’t met anyone yet. so...Ty is still terrible, but not as terrible i guess?? he at least recognized how bad that was once he said it out loud...yeah he’s a Turner man.

also, Oldsburg. new city for the map!

Ty looks like a blending of Nathan Kress and Ryan Reynolds....O.o

huh...is Rachel going to be a terrible mom?

ok, i do kind of love Viv and Roy already. they’re not exactly suited for FOP proper, but Viv being a mess and Roy being far over the top, i am kinda loving them. they are not just Tim and Chloe as i’d feared, so that’s nice. and Zina is like Tootie.

wait we get the opening song halfway through the episode? i just thought we were omitting it for eth first episode. i hope that isn’t standard. but onto the theme itself; actually, kind of a better remix than the Chloe version. same cadence and beats, but it was a tad more it’s own thing rather just mad-libed in. the combination of live action and 2d images thought didn’t blend that well for some segments. and why is Dimmsdale now Las Vegas?? the sigh and red carpet? that was never a thing before. i know, it’s...however many years in the future, things change, but just saying. (then again, how many times do i complain about continuity/lore errors in the Sparky and Chloe seasons, this isn’t surprising). but over all, it’s a better whole opening sequence compared to Chloe’s clipshow one.

that exterior shot of the house...where’s that attic room on it??? i am confused by architecture

we’re doing the share thing again, yup knew that. but you know...*technically* only Tim’s cousin did see eth fairies, since Roy is now also his cousin...is anyone gonna cite that loophole? ‘overly complicated’ Wanda, really??? ok, i know this might be a no-Chloe timeline, and she and Tim didn’t really trade off as much as go at the same time, so i guess *technically* you haven’t done it this way before, but still, it’s not that complicated.

ok i’m still a little stuck on the Tad and Chad poster in the attic here. not because it’s illustrated and everyone’s live action, no, more like...is Rachel related to one of them? because they were Timmy’s age...but Rachel is Ty’s age...so why does she have those in her house?? i think it’d be neat if she was related to one of them sure, but the ages don’t line up for that...and it’s not like one of them is her ex-husband because again, they were Timmy’s age and she and Ty are not.

was Roy cast because he could prat fall?

oh hey Crimson Chin poster! or...fanart on the wall???

“you’ll learn to choose your wish words...” pft, you jumped the gun and didn’t wait for her to finish the sentence. this is on you fairies, not the kids.

yup Zina is Tootie, with maybe a slice of Sanjay or Chester thrown in lol

is the Dimmsdale school mascot a toucan??

Seargent Splitz? ok.

awwww Roy is a sweetie. i do like him and Viv.

so episode 1 as a whole: not as terrible as i thought it could be. we still got 12 more episodes of course, and yeah there were lots of problems. but it’s less dumpster fire and more hot mess right now. so ok, i think we can get through this series.

[timmys-curls]

Hey so ik this is kinda weird but could u do a smut imagine with sub timothee? like timothee’s insecure and u show him why he shouldnt be;) If ur not comfortable w that that’s cool:)) If not could u do something w kyle? Tysm💞

show me ~ timothée chalamet

smut - nsfw

a/n: aah this came out super long! this is my first smut so it’s a little rough around the edges but hopefully it’s not too bad!

You and Timothée had been dating for a little over three months. The best three months of your life. You hated describing your relationship as “perfect”, but you really felt like it was. Of course the two of you fought, but every fight ended with an “I love you”. The one thing missing from your relationship was the sexual aspect. You and Timothée had had several heated makeout sessions but it never went any further. Timmy had told you he’d had sexual partners in the past, but he insisted it was different with you.

“I just want you in my life forever… I don’t want to ruin anything by going too fast,” he told you when you had brought the subject up in the past.

“I guess I’m just nervous. I want to be good enough. I want it to be perfect for you,” he spoke, his voice tapering off at the end of his sentence as his eyes stayed glued to his feet.

Your heart melted at his words.

“My angel boy…”

One night, you and Timothée had just arrived home from an event. You were nervous about attending when he first asked you, but you ended up having a great time. You never really got dressed up much so you enjoyed being pampered for the day. You were dressed in a golden silk dress that ended at your mid thigh. A slit in your dress travelled up your right leg. Your feet were decorated with a pair of tall black heels.

“Putain de merde. Tu es tellement magnifique. J'ai tellement de chance,” Holy shit. You’re so gorgeous. I’m so fucking lucky, Timothée had said when you’d finished getting ready.

Now, you could feel your body getting hot from his stare. He fumbled with the key to the door, finally succeeding and shoving the door open. You both stumbled inside, tangled in each other's arms, off balance from the wine you had consumed throughout the night. You could feel his hands roam any inch of skin they could find. His head was settled in your neck as he left small bites in all of your favorite spots. Your breath tickled the back of his neck as you sighed heavily, lost in the way his mouth worked against your neck. You grabbed Timothée’s face, smashing your lips against his in a feverish kiss. Your tongue slipped through his teeth and into his mouth and your hands tugged at his hair. Still standing in the middle of the living room, Timmy backed the two of you into your shared bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot. He pressed you against the door while simultaneously pressing his lower body against yours. He pulled away from the kiss just long enough to let out a raspy, “Please.”

“Please what baby?” you asked, slowing down your movements.

“I want this… I want you…” His green eyes peered directly into yours causing your breath to get caught in your throat.

“Ar-are you sure?”

“Positive. Just… show me how? I-i don’t want to do anything wrong. I’ve never done this with you…,” The quiver in his voice made your heart ache for the boy. You could sense he was nervous.

“I’ll guide you okay, love? Just relax.” You spoke as you brought your hand to caress his cheek.

“Okay,” he breathed out.

You reattached your lips to his and walked backwards until you turned him around. His knees hit the edge of the bed as you pushed him down onto it. He fell backwards, back flat on the bed and green eyes gazing up at you through hooded eyelids. You climbed on top of him, your hips settling directly on top of his. You could feel his bulge through his dress pants. You began to rock your hips back and forth, grinding down into him.

“Fuck,” he let out a breathy moan, his hands moving to your hips. Before you could appreciate the feeling of his hands gripping your hips, he slowly moved them back down to his sides.

“You know you can touch me right baby?” He simply nodded as you guided his hands back to their place on your hips. You let out a giggle when they slid backwards and squeezed your ass.

You began to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses on his neck and across his collarbones, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as you moved downwards. With every button you undid, you left a kiss. You could feel his muscles tightening under your lips as he tried to keep still. When you reached his waistband, he was a panting mess. Your confidence soared knowing you could have the boy writhing underneath you without even touching him. Your hands undid his belt buckle and slid down his pants. You were left eye to eye with his hardening cock. Your fingers hooked into his boxers as you pulled them down his legs, taking the rest of his pants with them, throwing them both across the room for you two to find in the morning. His cock sprang up, slapping against his stomach. Your eyes went wide. Throughout your entire relationship, you had never seen him completely naked before. To say the least, it was impressive. Your silence must have startled Timothée because you were snapped out of your trance.

“I-i-is everything okay?”

You let your actions answer his question as you gripped him at the base and let your tongue lick him from bottom to top before taking him all the way in your mouth.

“Je-Jesus christ y/n. Fuck,” he moaned. Hearing your name fall from his mouth only encouraged you. You picked up your pace, taking him deep into your throat. Your nose hit his abdomen as he finally let his hands perch on the back of your head. His moans were music to your ears.

“Babe… stop...stop,” he suddenly let out.

“Oh shit I’m sorry I just got so into it i-,” you began to ramble before he cut you off.

“No no no. That’s not what I meant. It was good. Really good… I just… I wasn’t going to last much longer,” he explained, suddenly getting even more sheepish as a blush crept onto his cheeks. You kissed him hard, smiling at the precious boy.

“I love you, Timmy,” you whispered.

“I love you too. I want to… you know… make you feel good,” he spoke as his hands rubbed up and down your thighs, pushing your dress up. The only thing separating you from him was the thin lining of your underwear. The feeling of his bare hands made you feel like every article of clothing you had on was too much.

“Later baby. I need you,” you spoke with urgency. You guided his hands to remove your dress. He eyes fell directly to your exposed breasts, mouth wide open.

“Take them off for me baby?” you asked, lifting your leg to allow his easier access. He glided your underwear down letting his hand brush over the area that was aching for him. You whined his name, spurring on his movements as he let his fingers explore you.

You looked him directly in his eyes and spoke, “Can I… ?”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Please,” he was practically begging for you.

You sat up on your knees and gripped his cock that was now red, swollen, and begging for a release. You lined him up at your entrance and slowly sunk down onto him.

“Ooohh fuckkk,” he let out in a loud moan. He threw his head back into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Look at me.” Your tone was demanding as your hand moved to his neck, giving it a light squeeze. His eyes watched you slide up and down on him, the look on his face was heavenly. Profanities flew out of his mouth. Your name leaving his lips like a prayer. You could tell when he looked at you that he was searching for signs of confirmation. He wanted to make sure you were enjoying yourself too. And you definitely were. The feeling of Timothée deep inside you was one you had been longing for. It was everything you hoped it would be.

You could see beads of sweat begin to form on Timmy’s forehead. His jaw was clenched and his hips began to buck up into yours causing your head to fly backwards and screams of pleasure to leave your mouth.

“Oh fuck. Timmy, baby, I’m so close.”

“Shit me too. Wh-where should I…?” he spoke in a lowered tone, trying to maintain his composure.

“Inside of me, inside of me,” you mentally praised yourself for remembering to take your pill.

Before long, Timothée was spilling his load inside you. The warmth of his orgasm spurred you on to your own.

Exhausted, you collapsed beside him, the only sounds in the room were those of the two of you catching your breath.

When your heart beat had slowed, you turned your head to gaze at him only to find he was already looking at you.

“That was incredible Timothée.”

“That was… insane,” he breathed.

The two of you laid together in silence until you felt his hand begin to trace patterns on your stomach. You looked at him through tired eyes.

“Round 2?”

You let out a loud laugh, leaning over to kiss him.

“Maybe later,” you replied, “...and then I can teach you some other things.” You gave him a wink as you stood up to go shower, his eyes following your every step as you heard an “I love you” come from over your shoulder.

[yandere-ac]

yandere snake mayhaps? 👉👈

Yandere Snake X Reader

The letters

This was a nightmare. A complete utter nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from. A few months ago, you had started receiving letters from an anonymous sender. And you had to admit, at first you thought it was sweet. The letters told about how the person always thought you were the greatest and how they’ve always wanted to be with you. You had No clue who it was but for a while you thought they seemed like a nice person. But then, the letters had started to get a bit more creepy. Talking in very disturbing detail about how they’ve imagined a whole life with you. “My dearest Y/N. You are mine and I am yours, until the end of time and all of eternity”. That is how each letter started, and with each letter it got more and more horrifying. And that was only the start of it. Soon the letters started talking about how they didn’t like the other residents and wanted to take you away from them. And by that they seemed to mean full on abduction since they stated, quote “They don’t deserve you. I don’t even deserve you. But I’ve started thinking. If I took you away, I’d limit your exposure of people not deserving of you to only one instead of ten. I’d keep you in my basement or loft. Just a place where no one could find you, and I could be with you everyday. I think about that so often. The only reason I haven’t done it is because I know you’d be sad”

This person, no, this maniac scared you so much. But it didn’t stop there, no, quite the contrary. It got worse in fact. Soon you started receiving disturbing descriptions of them stalking you. Like actually watching you through your windows. They talked about how cute you were and how they wanted to make you theirs. But when you started receiving gifts such as claws and teeth you went straight to Tom Nook. And that was were you were now. When you rushed into the resident services, you were shaking and crying uncontrollably. Tom imidiatly rushes out from his desk to ask what happened but once he got close to you, you just broke down, collapsing into his arms as your crying got more violent. By this point Isabelle had also rushed out from her desk. Tom cooed you as he slowly rubbed circles on your back, and Isabelle was also embracing you, telling you comforting things so that you would calm down.

After a while your crying died down to simple whimpers, Isabelle had fetched you a blanket and you were currently waiting for some hot water to boil as she had also offered to make you some tea. “So tell me Y/N, what did you say had happened?” Tom asked you, sitting opposite to you. “I’ve been getting these letters from someone and they are creeping me out. The person is also stalking me now and have sent...very disgusting things to me” you answered him, voice cracking several times as you do so. “I brought the worst ones so that you could see for yourselfs” with that, you handed over some of the letters that had made you the most scared. Tom took them and carefully read through each one. His face got more and more concerned and grossed out as he continued to read. By now Isabelle had come up to you with the cup of tea, you took the cup, hands shaking as you did so.

“I...I...my gods...this is truly unacceptable...we’ll have to do something about this. Do you have any hunch as to who it could be, be?” Tom asked you, putting down the letters. “That’s the worst part! I don’t even know who it’s from! It could be anyone!” You said, voice shaky and cracking. “Hmm...well do you have a hunch of who it possibly couldn’t be?” Tom asked you, looking at you. “Well...I guess you two. The able sisters. Timmy and Tommy obviously. Snake. And maybe Francine” you said. Tom, Isabelle and the able sisters where obviously not the sender. You knew both Tom and Isabelle and they would never do something like this. The face that Tom pulled when he read the letters alone convinced you. You also knew Mable and Sable. Mable was way to nice and cheery to produce something like the writings in those letters, plus you had seen her handwriting and it didn’t look like the one in the letters. And Sable just wouldn’t do this. You two were friends and it would just be to put if reach. Timmy and Tommy were also very obviously not the sender. And Snake and Francine were two of your favourite islanders, you hung out everyday. You trusted them not to do something like this.

”Well, would it make you feel safer to sleep at one of our houses tonight? Or well, some of our houses. I don’t think Mable and Sable are awake at this hour, and I’m not sure about Francine and Snake. But your always welcome in my house Y/N, I’m sure the boys would love it” Tom said, putting his hands together as he happily told you. ”And you’re always welcome with me as well! It would be like a big sleepover!” Isabelle exclaimed. This made you smile. These two were always so nice and polite. Always doing so much and asking for very little. “You two...thank you so much. You guys are to kind. But I can’t ask for that. I would feel bad. I’ll go ask snake, he’s usually up at this time and he has a comfortable blowup mattress” you said, bowing your head a little as you did. “Okey Y/N. But if anything happens. Our doors are always open”

And with that you went out, going to Snakes place. Strange, Tom though. As he looked at the letters, one persistent factor was that the writing was very messy. Almost jittery. But who could have written it? “Well, we should probably close up. It’s 40 minutes past closing time” Isabelle said turning off the lamp by her desk. “Oh! Yes of course! I had forgotten!” Tom said, quickly putting away his things. “Hey, you can leave early if you want, I can handle this. You’ve got your boys to put to sleep. They’re probably worried” Isabelle tried to convince her coworker. She knew Tom worked really hard, keeping up the island, making sure everyone was happy, and on top of that basically being like a dad to the twin boys. “Oh are you sure, Isabelle? It’s not to much?” Isabelle only laughed at this. “No no Tom, it’s alright I assure you! You have a good night now alright?”

You arrived and knocked on the door. Almost immediately the door swung open violently as the small rabbit gave you a big smile along with his wide eyes. “Hey Y/N!!!!” He yelled enthusiastically. You knew he had trouble with controlling his volume so you never got anger or annoyed when he yelled. You found it kind of endearing actually. He was just so full of energy at all times. “Hi snake, I was wondering- if it’s not to much trouble! If I could sleep at your place tonight? I-I know it’s very sudden and I understand if you don’t want t-“

“Are you kidding me!!! Of course I want to have you over!!!” As he said this he grabbed ahold of your hand and dragged you into his home.

On his way home, Tom couldn’t shake the thought of those letters. Who could they possibly be from?! He felt so bad for you, poor soul hadn’t done anything to deserve this. The only thing you had ever done was simply to care to much. You were a very empathic person and never gave up on people. Even when it came to crooks who didn’t deserve to be in your presence like Redd, you still remained patient and tried to help him. You had told him that you though Redd till had good in his heart and that you could help him. You had a heart so big it couldn’t fit inside that body of yours, but Tom worries about you. Because of your compassion it could easily draw creeps to you, and it had seemed that had just happened. His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a small drop of water hit his nose. Looking up he saw that the sky was grey. He quickly pulled out his umbrella as he quickened his pace. Just as he passed by Snakes house he stopped for a moment, looking at the abode. “Oh I hope they’re alright...no, no Tom. They’re with Snake...he’ll keep them safe...” and before he could think any more of the situation he continued to rush home. He had two, probably worried, tanookies to read a bedtime story to.

Once inside, Snake dragged out his blowup mattress and started filing it up with air, ever time you had a sleepover with him you insisted he use a mechanical pump but every time he declined, saying that his lungs were well trained and pull of air. While he fixed the mattress you were in the kitchen, preparing snacks. You’ve been to his house so many times that you practically knew the place as your own, and so when he asked you to fix something to eat, you knew where to look.

“And so she asked me: Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the cutest of them all! And I answered ‘why that would be Snake! The prettiest bunny out there!’ And she got really mad” you laughed at the bunnies shenanigans, the both of you sitting by the mattress eating some snacks. “Really? What did she say?” You asked him, snickering slightly. ”She called Me stupid haha” Snake responded putting his arm around you as you both laughed. “So, Y/N. Not that you would ever need a reason to visit your best friend snake! But is there a reason why you decided to drop in here out of nowhere?“ you froze up, do you tell him about the letters? No, you didn’t wanna drag him into this. ”Oh No reason. I just felt like we should hang out more y’know?” You said giving him a smile, hoping that he would be satisfied with that answer and wouldn’t press you for the truth. Luckily for you his eyes lit up and it seemed like your answer made him happy. “Oh you’re so kind Y/N! I agree! We should just hang out all the time!” He answered tail happily waved as he said so. “Yeah, we really should...hey...would you sleep next to me tonight...I’m a little paranoid to sleep alone” you asked the rabbit, and you could have sworn that you could see his cheeks dust pink. “Sure Y/N, I’d be happy to”

And so, the two of you laid down together, you wrapped your arms around his small body and he happily complied and did the same, nuzzling his head into the crook of tour neck. You felt thankful for him, he was always so kind to you, and was always there for you. Any time you’d look even slightly down he’d rush to your aid and comfort you. By now you two were so close that it didn’t feel weird sleeping in the same bed. As time went on you started to feel drowsiness take over you. Slowly you felt your eyelids fall heavy. As you closed your eyes, you could feel Snake gently brushing your hair. And just before you drifted out of consciousness, you heard him say something.

“Until the end of time and all of eternity...”

[watchtower-feed]

Death Do We Part (Part 14)

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧ Words: 2,100+ 

     “Think about Y/N!” Bruce shouts, making you stop and stare at your hands, a pen hovering over Jason’s last words.

     Jason’s grip falters. Of course, he’s thinking of you. Every single minute of every single day, all he’s done is think of you. All of the things he’s done is for you. You and him. That’s why he has to do this.

     His voice comes out like a low growl. “Decide now... Do it.”

     Bruce is shaking his head and holding the gun with both of his hands, trembling. Jason glares at him and pushes the barrel of the gun harder against Tim’s temple.

    “Him or me! Decide!”

     “Y/N!” 

     Alfred’s voice forces your eyes toward him, his trembling hands gripping the back of the couch, and you see the screen, Bruce’s feed closing in on Tim’s face, eyes wide, body struggling, and his head is moving like he’s yelling through the gags despite the gun pressed against his temple.

     The gun Jason’s holding.

     “You have to do something.”

     The pen is still hovering over your skin. You move its tip from your forearm toward the back of your palm and you clench your teeth before you stab yourself.

     Jason gasps in pain and drops the gun as blood leaks between his thumb and index finger.

     Bruce’s instincts kick in before the gun drops. He comes up from under Jason and kicks him in the chest, forcing him away from the gun and Tim.

     Jason reacts quickly and tugs on the rope tied around Tim’s arms to throw Robin behind him. Tim’s body hits the foundation of the stage, breaking in the platform’s scaffolds.

     Your whole body freezes as Bruce immediately catches sight of what’s hidden underneath the stage. It’s a bomb with a timer that has 10 seconds left on the clock.

     Jason straightens himself up, “I was really hoping you would make the right choice.” His voice no longer sounded angry or broken. He’s disappointed. Slowly he takes out the trigger from his pocket and presses it without another word. The timer on the bomb starts counting down.

     Bruce moves quickly and lunges toward Tim. But Jason grabs his legs midair, making both of them slam hard on the tiled floor just a few feet away from Tim.

     “Not doing so will only get everyone you love killed!“

     Bruce doesn’t even take a moment to look at his son. He keeps his eyes on Tim and kicks Jason's nose.

     You throw your head back and quickly use your arms to brace yourself on the counter. You can feel blood coming from your nose and your ears are ringing. But you fight through the pain and try your hardest to focus on the screen.

     Bruce is holding Tim in his arms and running out of the club. Alfred is already holding a cloth over your nose but you grab his hand. “Wait. What about Jason?”

     Your eyes are immediately drawn back to the screen, to Bruce staring at the club as blinding light consumes its interior. You drop your hold on Alfred and your arms hang limp by your side. You stare at the screen with wide eyes and big tears stream down your face.

     “Jason…” Bruce whispers and stays unmoved on the ground until the light finally dies down. Helpless. Useless. Numb.

     Tim is still struggling against his restraints. He tries to kick himself toward Bruce. When Bruce finally notices him he takes his mouth gag off first.

     “Bruce, it’s fake! It’s all fake!”

✧ ✧ ✧

     A few hours before the sun had gone down and hidden itself from Gotham, Tim woke up in Black Mask’s club ungagged and unbound. He quickly jumps up and eyes Jason warily who’s rummaging through a duffle bag.

     Jason throws Tim his Robin costume, stolen from the cave during Scarecrow’s raid on the Wayne manor.

     “Put that on before the others arrive.”

     Tim stares at his suit in his hands before his brows furrow and he looks back at Jason.

     “Is this a joke?”

     “You could always just stay in your civs and let the whole Arkham gallery know your secret identity.” Jason takes something from his pocket and reads out the card. “Timothy Drake-Wayne. Business. Heh. Pegged you for a sciency guy.”

     Tim doesn’t respond to his provocation. Jason snorts. He knows Tim is too smart for that. But he still hoped they could indulge in some small talk before getting right down to business.

     “What the hell are you planning, Jason?”

     “What I have to to keep Y/N safe.” He walks over to the bar and settles himself in front of his drink. “And you.”

     Tim doesn’t know what to say to that or what to make of it. He keeps quiet. Jason stares into his glass.

     “Bruce needs to know that he can’t protect using his methods. That being a symbol can only get through to those who are weak.” He clutches the glass in his hands and glares at it. “But what about the ones he can’t intimidate-- the ones who have greater fears than a Bat-- bigger than death.”

     “So... you just plan on killing them--”

     “Yes, Tim. Every single one until Gotham has no need for places like Arkham fucking asylum!” He slams the glass on the table and finally turns to Tim. “It’s a breeding ground for crazies funded by the people’s taxes!” He clenches his teeth. “It’s where they’re keeping the Joker alive. Fed. Rested. Alive.”

     Tim narrows his eyes. And there it is. His motive. “You’re delusional, Jason. This is all just about revenge--”

     “Do you know--!” Jason interrupts but quickly stops himself, bothered by the way his volume keeps rising. He takes one deep breath before he speaks again, forcing himself to be more calm and reasonable. “Do you know what he’ll do, if he finds out that I’m alive? About what he’s been itching to do to the new Robin? Or god forbid if the psychotic lunatic finds out about Y/N?”

     Tim visibly flinches. He doesn’t. He can only guess as far as his imagination can take him but if the Joker ever finds out about your physical link, it would open a whole new avenue of ways to torture Jason and Bruce.

     “We can help you. Both of you.”

     Jason shakes his head. “I can help you-- I am helping you.”

     His phone vibrates against the table and he immediately points his gun at Tim. “Don’t even think about it.” He keeps it trained on Tim as he answers. When he finally hangs up, he gets up and walks toward Tim.

     “Put the suit on. The others are coming.”

     “I won’t--”

     “They know I caught Robin and you’re holding the fucking costume. Do you want your identity revealed? Do you want to expose Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Y/N, too?”

     Tim clenches his fist and thrusts his chest out at Jason until there’s only a foot distance between them. “You already did that, you coward! You sent Scarecrow--”

     “Yeah!” Jason’s fiery voice rings inside the empty club. “And I killed Scarecrow! Shot him in the head before he could breathe a single word to anyone. I told them Batman’s a fucking socialist who’s using billionaire Bruce Wayne’s power supply to run his whole operation and the other dumbfucks bought it! But when Crane saw the manor-- and Y/N coming out of there-- he put two and two together!”

     Tim’s eyes are wide and his posture falters.

     “Scarecrow’s… dead? You murdered him...”

     Jason wants to snap at him. But instead he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Robin! So is Black Mask-- killed him this morning. And tonight the rest of them are goners too! Blowing them up to high heavens before their much-awaited descent into hell!”

     Jason suddenly grabs Tim’s arm, “And you--” He stabs him with another tranquilizer but it’s not as strong as the last one. Tim’s mind and senses are still active but he can’t move any part of his body. Jason catches him and gently lays him on the ground. He starts stripping Tim’s clothes to dress him in his Robin costume.

     “Tonight I’m going to prove to you that Bruce is no better than me. That when everything he loves is in danger right in front of him-- when he’s really forced to choose between saving his family and subjecting a murderer to death…” He pauses when he puts on the tunic over Tim’s chest.

     “He’ll choose you.”

     He finishes putting the costume on in silence. Then he props Tim up on his side and starts tying his legs and arms behind his back with some rope.

     “When he realizes that I might actually kill you-- You know, after he sees me kill the Joker in front of him with this gun.” He takes it out of his holster and shows Tim that the magazine only has one bullet inside. “I’ll give it to him and he’ll shoot me in the face. Well… for your sake, I hope he does.”

     “I hope he’s grown a pair and finally understands that you have to kill the bad guys or no one is safe.”

     Jason turns to face Tim.

     “If he doesn’t, this will definitely do the trick.” He moves toward the stage and lifts the curtain of the scaffolds to reveal the bomb. Tim’s pupils dilate at the sight of it.

     “Don’t worry, Timmy. The bomb’s not real. Nice touch on the timer, huh? I bet it’ll knock all common sense right out of Bruce’s head. He won’t even know. He’ll act on instinct and save you.”

     Jason walks back to Tim and places a strong plaster over his mouth.

     “Finally, he’ll be able to save Robin.”

✧ ✧ ✧

     When Bruce and Tim make it back to the safehouse, there’s tension between them. Tim doesn’t even look at you or Alfred before he shuts himself in his room. Bruce stands awkwardly by the door as he takes off his cowl.

     None of you say anything. None of you know what to say. After Tim’s outburst, Bruce had quickly ran back into the club and only found the Joker’s corpse inside. They searched Arkham all night but they couldn’t find Jason. They couldn’t find Dick in the river either.

     You finally force your legs off the couch and head off to your room. Bruce stops you. You turn to find him looking at you with a forlorn look on his face. “I’m sorry,” he says as he points to your nose. Then in a softer voice he says, “Thank you.”

     You turn away from him. “What for? It was all fake anyway--”

     “Thank you for choosing to save Tim.”

     You flinch. You clench your fist and punch Bruce on the jaw. Immediately you start nursing your hand because it hurts you more than him. But your anger is still seeping over. “Of course I would save Tim-- Of course I would help you-- But you should have saved Jason, too!”

     Bruce keeps quiet as he looks at you. 

     You know it’s unfair because if you had been in that situation, you don’t know what you would’ve done-- How could you save both Tim and Jason? But Bruce is Batman, and just like his children, you expect him to know.

     Your eyes scrunch up and you purse your lips before you walk off into your own room.

     When you close the door and turn on your lights, you jump at the sight of Tim sitting in the chair by your desk. He doesn’t say anything.

     “What are you doing in here, Tim?”

     Tim tenses at the irritation in your voice. You watch as his shoulders slump forward and he holds the back of his neck with one hand. His mask is off and his eyes are downcast.

     “Dick’s… not here. And I need someone right now…” He extends a hand toward you. “For one night, can we pretend to be friends again?”

     Your body suddenly relaxes and you finally see the hurt expression on his face. You walk forward and embrace Tim.

     “I don’t want to pretend. I miss having you as a friend.”

     Tim pauses before he hugs you back. When you break away, he waits for you to settle yourself at the foot of your bed before he starts talking.

     “Thank you… For doing what Bruce couldn’t.” He looks at you and watches as you nurse your hand. There’s another pause before Tim speaks again.

     “Jason was right. I still won’t agree to murder but… to know the truth that… if it came down to my life and a villain’s life-- I can’t count on Bruce.”

     “That’s not true,” you interrupt softly. “Bruce saved you. He got you out of the building, even if it was a fake bomb.”

     “And he left Jason to die. You would have died.” You stare at the ground and bring your knees close to your chest. When you watched the blinding light in the club go out, you braced yourself for the blast, waited for death again.

     Tim rubs his head and messes up his hair before he sighs deeply. Thinking about everything is only messing with his head. He groans before he speaks again, irritated.

     “He told me his plan. Jason wanted Bruce to save me. Wanted him to make the hard choices he didn’t make for Jason.”

     “Jason wanted to make sure Robin doesn’t die again,” you whisper.

     You rest your head on your knees as you look at Tim. Your lips tremble as you watch him struggle with his thoughts.

     He stares at his hands with narrowed eyes before you hear his broken voice.

     “... I don’t know if I want to be Robin anymore.”

✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: H - Height 

Summary: When Bruce brings a new kid home who happens to be taller than him, Tim isn’t pleased. He already gets relentless insults about his height from the others so adding someone else into the mix will not help, in fact it’s just rather mean. How could Bruce do this to him?

Enjoy! :D

“Absolutely not. Take him back. Get a refund.”

Everyone turns to look at Tim in disbelief as his protest cuts through the silence of the room. Tim pays them all little attention as he keeps his focus on the person directly in front of him.

The newest member of their dysfunctional family stands opposite Tim with a look of uncertainty on his face, probably caused by Tim’s rather blunt comment. Tim already knows all about Duke Thomas, he’s heard about him and has even read what little documents there are on him but this is the first time they are meeting in person. He had been away for the last two weeks on a Titan’s mission and  only returned to the Manor that afternoon.

Just behind Duke, Bruce stands stiffly sending him a hard glare. “Tim, do we need to have a conversation?”

In a show of exaggeration, Tim pouts and sends a Bruce a betrayed look. “Yes Bruce. Let’s have a conversation, let’s talk about how this is just unfair of you to do this to me.”

The previous looks of disbelief turn into confusion but it’s Duke who speaks up first now looking both confused and upset. “Hey man, what did I do? This is the first time we’re meeting, surely I haven’t been able to piss you off already?”

At this point Tim has to bite back a grin. He’s only teasing Duke, he has absolutely nothing against the guy, everything he's heard is all positive and Tim honestly thinks he’s brave for willingly coming into the family as he is.  

“Tim do you mind explaining yourself.” Bruce demands lowly. His adoptive father is sending him a disapproving look, clearly he isn’t clicking onto Tim’s teasing.

Waving his arms dramatically at Duke, Tim explains. “This is unfair because he’s taller than me! How could you bring someone into the family that’s taller than me Bruce, especially someone who is younger! I thought you loved me.”

A few beats of silence pass by as everyone comprehends Tim’s words. The confused looks revert back into the disbelieving looks but for a different reason this time.

From the right there’s a snort from Jason. “Oh my god I didn’t even notice it, Tim is still the smallest in the family!”

As Jason cackles, because the bastard loves taking the piss out of Tim’s height, Bruce suddenly looks resigned. He sighs before running a hand over his face and Tim bets he’s questioning why he ever thought it was a good idea to have kids.

“Aw,” Dick coos from the side, he’s grinning widely glancing at him and Duke, “Timmy is still the baby bird of the family.”

“That’s not true!” Tim protests, he wheels around to pin Dick with a look. “Damian, and now Duke, are in fact younger than me, making them the baby birds of the family.”

“Aw Timmy…” Dick makes his way over to Tim and before Tim could react, his oldest brother has him trapped in a hug. Dick locks his arms tightly around Tim’s neck and rests his head on top of Tim’s, clearly using his height to his advantage. Tim squawks in protest and tries to push him away with no avail.

“Technically speaking, isn’t Damian the shortest one out everyone?” Duke questions looking a little frazzled at everything going on.

“Yes, but not for much longer,” Jason answers him, “it’s already obvious the demon spawn will outgrow Timmy here. The kid’s eleven, he has at least another three or four growth spurts in him. And have you seen the size of Bruce? There's no way that kid is staying short.”

Tim wiggles in Dick’s grip, trying to move his head around so he could send Jason a glare. “Hey! I have at least another one in me.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Sure you do baby bird.”

“What about Cass, she’s smaller than Tim isn’t she?” Duke speaks up again. Tim appreciates the way he keeps bringing up other family members but it also goes to show he has a lot to learn about the way they operate in this family.

Dick gives him a squeeze and Tim grits his teeth, even throwing a punch into the man’s side in attempts to break free from the octopus grasp he’s locked in. He feels Dick shake his head. “Cass doesn’t count, she’s in her own category. Plus she doesn’t get annoyed about it like Tim does, with him we always get a reaction.”

Using all of his force this time, Tim jabs Dick in the stomach before kicking one of his knees, the man stumbles and Tim uses the advantage to finally break free from his grip. Scowling he steps away from him. “Because you’re all assholes that’s why.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You’re the one that brought it up Tim, you were practically asking for the teasing this time round.”

All Tim could do was huff and cross his arms over his chest because he’s not wrong and Tim can’t exactly deny it.

“It doesn’t matter how tall you end up being or not being.” Bruce suddenly declares. Everyone turns to stare at him, having completely forgotten the man was even in the room. He had been silently watching them converse the entire time.

The man walks over to Tim and places a warm hand on his shoulder, sending him a supportive smile. “Unfortunately we cannot control our genes so we have to work with what we got and make up for what we don’t. You know this Tim, you need to stop letting your brother’s wind you up about it.”

Tim opens his mouth to object against his words but Bruce doesn’t seem to be interested in what he has to say because he gives his shoulder a squeeze and without further ado leaves the room. Tim blinks after him, taking a moment to register what just happened.  

A silence falls over the room as the boys all look at one another and it soon becomes awkward as no one seems to know how to break it. In the end it’s Tim himself who breaks it, in a small voice he brings up the previous topic again.

“Being small can have its benefits I guess…” He weakly argues.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Jason mocks, either humouring Tim or simply finding another way to tease him.

“Like beating your fat ass for one.” Tim retorts, trying to not fall for the trap again. This kind of thing really does hit a nerve and make him go on the defensive side. It’s one of his insecurities, he can’t help it.

“Excuse you, I am not fat. This is all hard core muscles, you little twink.” Jason counters back, even standing up straighter as if his height will intimidate Tim.

Tim rolls his eyes at the display, he may be short yes, but he is far from intimidated by Jason’s height. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Alright enough.” Tim’s attention breaks away from Jason when Dick steps between them, intervening. “Enough with the dick measuring contest. As Bruce rightfully said, we work with what we’ve got and make up for what we don’t. Every height has its advantages and disadvantages.”

“Oh fuck off dickhead. That’s bullshit and you know it. We have to show Duke here how things get sorted here now he’s part of the family.” Jason says eyes narrowing at the oldest in the room.

“Real mature Jay,” Dick rolls his eyes, he glances at Duke afterwards, “this isn’t how things get sorted out between us, we’re better than this.”

Duke holds his hands up placatingly, “I don’t even think I want to know.”

“That’s probably a wise idea.”

Tim snorts. “Oh don’t worry about it, Jason here is just insecure because he knows that I can take him down. Even with my small size I can beat him.”

Jason points at him threateningly. “Is that a challenge replacement? Because I will take you down.”

“Will you now? And how would you do that, by sitting on me?”

“Right you little shit…”

Tim yelps as Jason lunges for him. He’s able to dart out of the way from being grabbed and has to dodge again when Jason lunges for him a second time. Knowing that Jason won’t stop until he’s had his revenge Tim dashes for the door to make his escape. As he exits the room he shouts over his shoulder. “Can your fat ass keep up? My smaller size allows me to be more agile than you!”

Jason yells in protest but Tim doesn’t pay attention to it, all he does it focus on getting as far away as he could.

Back in the room, Dick and Duke watch as Tim hurriedly exits the room with a furious Jason on his tail. Dick is unsurprised by the turn of events, having gotten used to this kind of thing a long time ago. Duke, on the other hand, blinks in bewilderment and concern. He opens and closes his mouth several times without saying anything as if he doesn’t know what to say.

Dick glances at him after a moment. “Don’t worry about it, this kind of thing happens all the time, you’ll get used to it.”

“So a simple conversation can turn into a fighting match?”

“Yeah pretty much.” Dick starts heading for the door, gesturing for Duke to follow him. “Come on, let’s go make sure they haven’t killed one another.”

Duke looks alarmed at that. “Wait don’t tell me that’s a thing we have to actually worry about!”

Dick could only laugh in response to that.

[confusednarcissistwrites]

Could you write a jealous timmy fic pls?

AHHH so this is pretty much pure fluff lol I feel like there’s a lot of angsty jealousy fics out there so I wanted to try and do something a little different. hope you guys like it!! ☺️💛

Jealous? (T.C.)

(cursing, smut, flufffff)

“Baby, I’m late! I gotta run,” you giggled, pressing the puckered lips of your doting boyfriend away as you pulled on your shoes.

“Ughhh fineeeee,” Timothée whined, following you to the door like a puppy. “Have a good day, baby doll.”

You grinned, pecking his lips. “You too, cutie.”

You’d been filming intermittently for the past few months on a local indie project. It was hard not to be daunted by Timothée’s big name films, but your heart was in dinky, little indie projects with weird motifs, and you were perfectly content to stay in your niche acting there in New York. It kept you close to him.

You’d only been together for about six months, but you could tell that this wasn’t a short term type thing. This was your first project since you and Timothée had gotten together, and he’d already been incredibly supportive every step of the way. It was almost like you had your own personal cheerleader every day.

Once you made it to the studio, you realized you had missed a text from Timmy.

T💕: “u forgot ur lunch :(“

You: “dang it :/ I’m sure I can find something around here tho”

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, heading into your dressing room to get your hair and makeup done for the day. About halfway through, your director knocked on the door and popped his head inside. He was all smiles, eager to get into the scenes for the day. “Hey, Y/N! Just wanted to let you know we are starting with 32 today!”

“Great, thank you, Derek!” you responded, grabbing up your script in between your makeup artist’s brush strokes. You flipped through the marked up pages, landing on the scene.

“Ooh, you’ll need some extra setting spray today!” sang Marrissa, giving you a playful wink as she finished up the avant-garde paint job on your face and began setting it with powder.

After getting dressed, you strode out to the set, feeling excited and confident for the day’s shoot. The schedule was packed, but you were ready for it.

•••

It was less than an hour after you had left that Timothée became bored. You’d left him a grocery list, but he couldn’t imagine how dreary the supermarket aisles would be without your puns and odd-ball fun facts about preservatives. He smiled to himself, feeling a bit silly for missing you so much.

He decided that he’d go pick up lunch from your favorite restaurant and bring it to you since you’d left your lunch at home; he knew how rough catered lunches could be at times.

It was about noon when he arrived at the studio, entering quietly as he knew they were likely filming somewhere nearby. He greeted the staff he passed, some looking at him with wide eyes and making him chuckle to himself a bit, but most had seen him with you before. He was instructed to the set and eventually found his way to you. What he was greeted with, however, stopped him dead in his tracks.

You were practically naked, your body only draped in a sheer, flowy gown that left little to the imagination. An actor circled you, his eyes hungry and predatory. In a snap of movement, he was on you. Timothée watched in shock as he gripped your throat, feverishly kissing you. You, completely immersed in character, reciprocated, releasing a soft whine audible to the crew.

And Timothée.

He, of course, logically knew you were simply acting in a role, but to see such a thing made his stomach twist and ache. Half of him was astounded by your talent and beauty, but it was nearly completely overshadowed by his jealousy.

An abrupt call of “CUT!” pulled him from the trance, both you and the actor stepping away from each other. It took you a few moments to notice him, but, the moment you did, your face lit up, and you hurried over to him.

“Oh my goodness! What are you doing here, mon amour,” you grinned, pulling him into a quick kiss. He smiled back, but you instantly could see it was a bit forced. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Timothée shook his head, presenting your lunch to you. “I just brought you food! I was worried you wouldn’t find anything around here, and I wanted to see you,” he confessed, blushing a bit.

You tilted your head. “Thank you, Timo. That’s very sweet, but what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing. Nothing’s wrong!”

“Mm, never play poker,” you teased, continuing to press his buttons.

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s- honestly, it’s stupid. Can we go to your room?”

Suddenly, it clicked. “Oh my god, it was the scene, wasn’t it?” you gasped, leading him to your room and closing the door behind you.

“Y/N…” he warned.

“It totally was!! Babe, you kiss other actors all the time; you know how it is!”

“Okay, yeah, but- I just, ya know, haven’t seen you do it before!! It was just a little.. startling I guess,” he stuttered, clearly flustered and defensive, his arms crossed over his chest. “I mean, you don’t dress like this at home!”

You set your lunch down, letting out a snort. “Darling, I’m also not typically the damned ghost of a duke’s daughter at home either,” you deadpanned, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms wrapped instinctually around your waist, pulling you close. “Are you jealous, Timothée?” You wore a cocky grin, finding him incredibly endearing.

“I just don’t like seeing other guys all over my girl; is that a crime?” he whined, making pouty faces at you and making you giggle. He wasn’t one to be upset over much for very long.

“Mm, I love when you call me that,” you sighed, biting your lip at him.

He very promptly reacted to your shift in tone, raising a brow at you. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish, doll.” His voice was quiet and low, making you grin.

“Oh, you’ll finish, alright.” His eyes went wide as you pushed him back onto the couch with a giggle, placing yourself in his lap and tugging his bottom lip between your teeth.

“You’re so baadddd,” he sang, giving your ass a playful squeeze. You rocked against his growing bulge, pulling him into a hungry kiss. Your costume pooled around you both as you continued to grind against him; the thrill of the possibility of getting caught spurred you on, much to Timothée’s delight. His lips latched onto your throat eagerly. He wished he could leave a little sign to remind your scene partner of his place but decided against it in fear of you getting scolded.

“Only for you, babe,” you hummed. In a flurry of fabrics, you slipped down the floor, kneeling between his spread legs.

Timmy was pleasantly surprised, chewing on his lip as you made quick work of his belt and fly. He was already incredibly turned on. You removed his length from his jeans, pumping him up and down while gazing up at him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, sliding down in his seat. You took him into your mouth, knowing you didn’t have as much time as you’d like. You circled your tongue around his sensitive head, relishing the soft groan he let out. You licked a wide stripe along the underside, feeling him twitch in your hand. The gratification of watching him feel so good was nearly enough to get you off all on its own.

He gently gathered your hair, holding it out of your face as you began to bob your head up and down his length. “Holy shit, baby. Ugh, your mouth..” he babbled mindlessly, hips twitching up toward you every so often. You weren’t able to fit all of him into your mouth, so your hands aided in the effort, one following your lips while the other squeezed his thigh or roamed over his stomach occasionally. Feeling warmed up, you pressed yourself further, taking him down your throat until you managed to reach his base. You held for as long as you could before pulling back, gasping for air; he was no easy fit. He cursed, his slick cock twitching against his stomach while you caught your breath. He bit the back of his hand to keep from getting too loud. You quickly went back to work, sensing he was getting closer.

You watched his pretty, hazel eyes roll back as you sped up. “Fu-fuck, Y/N, don’t stop,” he whimpered, his free hand tugging at his own hair as he tumbled toward his climax. Suddenly, his whole body went tense, his head falling back in a silent shout as he spilled his lust into your waiting mouth. You did you best to swallow all he had to give, not wanting to make a mess. He trembled softly and let out sighs as he came down from his high. You pulled off of him with a little pop, biting your lip up at him while he tucked himself back into his jeans. You pulled yourself back up onto the couch next to him, grabbing his chin and pulling him into a lustful kiss.

“See? No reason to be jealous,” you purred, bumping his nose with your own.

“Jesus…” he panted, laughing and running his hands over his face as he soaked in what had just happened. “You’re something else.”

You giggled and hopped up, wiping away your watery eyes in the mirror, readjusting your costume, and drinking some water; you hoped your voice wouldn’t be too hoarse for your next scenes.

Timmy followed after you like a little puppy, wrapping himself around you from behind. He was always so cuddly after an orgasm. “Mmmm, I’d love to return the favor,” he hummed, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulders.

You grinned, leaning back into him. “Ugh, I wish. But I have to get back to set now, my love.” He stuck out his bottom lip, pouting at you through the mirror. “You’ll have to make it up to me later.”

He walked you back to set, his fingers tangled with yours and a little smug smile on his face; anyone could have guessed he just got some.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” he hummed, smiling like a fool. You stood on your toes to peck his lips, but the moment you pulled away, he pulled you right back again, locking lips with you heatedly for a few seconds more. You blushed hotly, hearing a few whistles coming from the cast and crew. It was only after he pulled away and headed for the door that you saw your scene mate standing a few feet away.

[lumosinlove]

Sweater Weather

part iii

Remus didn’t always have too much time for it, but there was nothing he liked more than sitting on the bench and watching Gryffindor City’s Hogwarts Stadium fill up with red and gold. The waves of chatter got louder and the seats filled, and it was a nice balance to the energy in the locker room as he walked back down the tunnel and through the doors, leaning against the wall with Moody. There, in case they were needed, but out of the way.

Even more than watching the fans, he liked watching the boys get ready. Kasey was down on all fours in a butterfly squat, full-pads making his body look huge and his head look tiny. Leo was down the hall some, throwing two balls against the wall and catching them quickly. Remus’ eyes blurred after watching for a minute and he looked away. Which turned out to be a mistake in itself.

Sirius was sitting in his stall, shirtless and knees spread to accommodate the stick he was taping between them. He didn’t have any of his pads on yet, typical Sirius, who always had to get ready at the last minute because he spent so much time on his stretches and sticks. He was just in his underarmour, the tight material leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. He had a Lions’ hat on backwards and stray strands of hair were sticking out of the front, casting shadows on his cheeks. He stuck his tongue out and wound the tape carefully around the blade of his stick, checking for wrinkles and creases every other turn. James was saying something to him with broad hand gestures, probably a play he wanted to get perfect tonight.

They all wanted to get everything perfect tonight. It was the home opener. The crowd would be wild, and the pressure would be on. Remus loved every second of it and he knew the boys did, too.

James let out a loud whoop then, clapping his hands together and and throwing his helmet on even though his pads were still hanging in his stall. “Let’s fucking go, tonight, eh boys? Durmstrang fuckers won’t know what hit them.”

He was met with a series answering shouts of approval, all of which amplified when Coach Weasley appeared through the locker room doors with the large lion on it. He grinned and held up a little slip of paper, tonight’s line up.

“Pots, since you’re already standing, why don’t you do the honors?” Arthur said, handing James the paper.

James hit his helmet on his head. “Alright, let’s see. Starting tonight,” the boys yelled and James dropped down a little, knees bent and voice low like the commentators, “in the cage,” there was another round of shouts and James wound up his arm and then bounded over to Kasey, “we have the man named for the sport of hockey itself, Kasey Winter.”

There were a series of “Yeah, Kase!” and “Be the fucking blizzard!” before James could continue.

“Next we have…on your left, Harzy!”

Harzy looked up from where he was lacing his skates with a little salute to the cheers.

“On your right,” James smiled around at them all, so wide that Remus could see where one of his outer bottom teeth was still missing, just out of sight. He pressed a hand to his own chest, “yours truly.”

“Alright, Potty-mouth!” Kasey shouted the nickname James had earned himself for his relentless chirping on the ice, name-calling and poking fun until the refs eventually had to call him on it.

“Your favorite D-man pairing, Kaner and our resident Finland-man, Olli!”

Timmy Kane and Olli Halla did some strange, complicated handshake.

“And your center tonight…the man, the myth, the one who holds the record for most marriage proposals by teenage girls at the glass,” Remus laughed at that and James ran back over to Sirius, pretending to take his stick just to see him flinch back, and taking his hat instead and placing it on top of his own helmet, “oh captain, my captain, Sirius mother-fucking Black!”

Everyone clapped a little, Arthur shaking his head fondly and Moody letting James run over and touch his leg for good luck, per tradition, and then it was really business time. There was some calmer chatter as everyone got into their gear and laced up, getting into the right headspace for a game.

Remus rifled through his own inventory in his head, making sure he would be prepared on the bench. He had extra blades for everyone, laces, sterile gauze, and a little box for teeth which he’d learned to keep the hard way (Olli Halla spitting a few directly into his open palm). He took one last look around the locker room before heading back to the mouth of the tunnel at the bench where the guys would pass on their way out for their lap-around introductions under the lights and warm ups. He could see some of the Durmstrang equipment guys over on their bench, and they exchanged nods that were friendly enough. Eagles games were always odd, not just for the competition—they had nothing compared to Lion and Snake games—but because their colors were nearly identical, and so the away-team always had to wear their more solid colored third-jerseys. Remus was glad they were on home-ice, so the Eagles would be the ones stuck in their nearly all goldish-yellow uniform, not the Lions.

Remus looked up at the stands, figuring his parents were out there somewhere, trying to keep Julian at bay, who was no doubt in his BLACK jersey and bouncing out of his shoes with excitement. At nine years old, Remus sometimes wondered if his little brother was a bigger Lions fan than even him, despite living halfway across the country from them.

He had a sudden fantasy of bringing Jules back to the locker room and Sirius being there, maybe James, too, and Sirius would give Jules a hockey stick maybe, and then smile at Remus—

“What’s with the face?”

Remus started, looking at Moody who had brought out the fresh bottles of gatorade and water.

“What? What face? Nothing.” Remus reached forward and started to help him line the bench with them. “I wasn’t making a face.”

“Alright, at ease.” Moody laughed a little. “Jeez, Lupin.”

Remus desperately tried to change the subject, “How’s the lucky leg?”

Moody scoffed, giving it a stomp. “It’s been kissed by Harzy, that’s what. Fucking crazy-ass.”

Remus laughed and sat down on the bench, looking up towards the jumbo-screen where they were showing a video of a few of the guys saying what they did that summer. James was on, giving a typically sarcastic answer. Something about hamburgers. When Sirius’ faces came on next there was a positive roar from the crowd and Remus felt flushed with their enthusiasm. Gryffindor loved their Captain, and they were just as eager to avenge him as the team was. It was pretty fucking thrilling to sit and watch it all, but if he could, Remus would be out there on the ice, fighting to get Sirius ever goal and point he could. He pushed that thought down just as the lights shut off and the music stopped, signaling the beginning of the Lions’ entry onto the ice, their first of the season. Remus’ heart pounded.

“Gryffindor!” boomed Frank Longbottom’s voice, one of their beloved announcer. Frank came with the team on the road, along with Marlene McKinnon. Butts and Kinzy were well loved by the team, and, maybe unfortunately for them, the subjects of many pranks, but Remus was sure they loved the boys’ attention as much as he himself did. The crowed boomed back in response and then the jumbo-screen bloomed to life, along with the lights and the lasers that streaked across the crowd and ice.

“Are you ready?” Frank asked the stadium, and then the jumbo-screen started counting down from ten with loud booms that quickly developed into a bass-heavy song.

“Ten…nine…” Remus found himself smiling, mumbling the numbers under his breath.

“Your Gryffindor Lions!” Frank drew out the words and the lights went crazy as the boys appeared down the tunnel.

Kasey came first, goalie mask propped on top of his head as he skated out onto the ice. Then Timmy, Finn, Leo…Olli, Brady, Evgeni, Kris, Tyler…

They all looped around the rink, warming up and pounding on the glass, laughing when the crowd pounded back. Remus liked watching the rookies the most, their eyes alight with the attention and praise.

And finally James, always second to last, and then Sirius, always last. Remus watched him come all the way down the tunnel, just in time for his name to be read out by Frank. Sirius raised his glove and knocked it into a few of the kid’s fists who had made it down by the glass, before scampering back up to their parents, delighted with having received a fist-bump.

Remus didn’t expect Sirius to look back at him, but for the split second between him being beside the bench and him being on the ice, their eyes met. And Sirius dropped a wink. And he was gliding away, dropping to one knee as he went and raising his stick a little, drawing screams from the crowd. They were happy to have him back. Sirius was cocky, and Remus didn’t like to admit that he loved that, but he did.

Sirius belonged on the ice, that much had always been clear, and when he wasn’t there, something was out of gear. Everything felt settled now, ready.

The lights came up after a bit and then Eagles filtered on, too, taking shots at their goalie. Victor Krum crossed center ice and met Sirius where he was talking to James, offering a somewhat stiff hand. Sirius smiled, so Remus guessed he had welcomed him back. The Eagles were good like the Snakes, but they weren’t assholes like they were. Remus watched Sirius pluck at Krum’s shoulder, no doubt chirping him for the bright yellow color, and Krum laughed, nudging him back and skating away.

Kasey was busy nesting his goal, scraping up the crease with his long goalie skate blades and catching the boys’ practice shots. Remus watched him for a minute, always enjoying how specific and protective Kasey was of his goal (he patted his posts whenever a puck got knocked askew by one, for god’s sake), but soon his attention was—predictably—dragged away by Sirius. Sirius had a routine, a strict routine, and there was few things Remus loved more than watching him go through it. Remus wasn’t sure he even knew about all of it, but he wanted to. He knew Sirius had to tape his own sticks, do specific stretches in a specific order, had to put his left skate on first, and during warm-ups he had to trace the Lions logo with a puck. He knew Sirius liked to have two pieces of toast with butter and honey an hour before games. Remus wished he knew more, secretly. He wanted to know how long Sirius’ pre-game nap was and what he looked like when he woke up from it—

“Earth to Remus Lupin.”

Remus’ slowly spiraling fantasy was abruptly cut off by James waving a glove in his face.

“What?” Remus stood up. “Sorry, what’s up, what do you need? James, face-off’s in like two seconds, you’re on first shift.”

“I just want some gatorade and it’s all red.” James practically pouted.

Remus huffed out a laugh and handed him a blue, shifting to the side as the other team members shuffled down the bench, coach Weasley slapping a few of them on the back. “There, now go!”

James whooped and skated off to take his position. Sirius was at center ice, eye to eye with Krum, the ref between them with the puck. They crouched, eyes on the puck, and Remus said a soft prayer to whatever god anyone could believe in.

The ref dropped the puck, and the game began.

Remus was on his feet the entire time. He was meant to be watching for any trip-ups, any hard hits, anything that might need to be looked at. Instead, he kept catching himself just enjoying the game, standing behind the bench. Sirius came careening over the boards, tapping Brady’s butt as he jumped onto the ice to replace him, and sat down heavily in front of Remus. He turned, sweat dripping down his temples.

“iPad,” he said, and one of the assistant coaches held it out to him. Sirius stayed turned, brow intense as he watched a replay of his latest shift, and so Remus got to study his profile. He loved Sirius in the heat of a game, loved how fast he talked. He leaned over to explain something to Olli, who leaned in like if he didn’t catch every word, he’d parish. Everyone on the team tended to listen to Sirius like that, like he was their leader through thick and thin.

“How’m I doing?” Sirius said as he handed the iPad back. Remus assumed he was talking to the coaches until Sirius’ eyes fell on him.

“Me?” Remus asked—stupidly.

Sirius smiled, “You.”

“You look great out there. You know you look great out there.”

James laughed, whacking Remus lightly in the stomach with his glove. “Way to call him on it, Loops.” Then the whole bench leaned back as Brady shoved an Eagles player nearly over the boards and into the bench. The crowd loved it, and James banged his stick on the boards after them. “Way to go, Shady-Brady!”

They were gone shortly after that, Coach calling for short shifts for the end of the first period.

“Keep ‘em coming boys, keep this lead!” he was shouting.

The Lions were up 3-1, and the atmosphere was electric. Remus loved this. It was the closest thing to being on top of the world there was, he thought. Suddenly, Sirius was on a breakaway up the ice off of a clean pass from Harzy. He skirted around number 16, number 3, with hard edges, and then he was nearly at the net—

Krum came out of nowhere, slamming Sirius into the boards.

Remus was on his feet in a second, pressing up behind Tyler and Evgeni on the bench.

It was a clean hit, but it felt like ages before Sirius got up. Remus didn’t even watch Krum take the puck, didn’t watch Kasey miss it, didn’t watch their goal-horn light up, didn’t watch the scoreboard change to read 3-2. He didn’t watch the Eagles celebrate.

He watched Sirius skate towards the bench. It was just for a shift change, but Remus looked over every part of him, checking for a limp, a wince, anything. He looked okay. James was on him in a second, skating shoulder to shoulder and talking to him. Sirius was nodded, even smiling a little, but Remus could tell he was shaken. To have something like that happen in the first game, and when he’d just gotten back…

The stadium filled with booing that felt like it shook the walls.

Sirius took his seat on the bench, but before Remus could get through his teammates and to him, the buzzer signaling the end of the first period was sounding and everyone was filing off the ice and back into the locker room. Good, Remus thought. He’d ask to see Sirius, he’d check him out fully, just to be safe.

Marlene was waiting for Coach at the end of the tunnel.

“Hey Arthur, who can we have for media?” she asked.

“Not Black,” Remus stepped in, “I want to check that hit.”

Coach nodded, “right. You can have Pots, or Kasey, I think.”

Marlene nodded and shot Remus a smile, which he returned tightly as he pushed between them and into the locker room. Sirius looked up at him almost immediately, like he had been waiting.

Remus only had to jerk his head towards the quiet and training rooms, before Sirius was getting up and following him. Remus held the door open to the quiet room. It was technically for concussion testing and protocol, and Remus hadn’t seen Sirius hit his head, but better safe than sorry. Sirius stepped inside and Remus closed the door.

“How do you feel?” Remus asked, then pointed to the padded observation table. “Sit there. I’m going to check your ankle and your head.”

“Loops—”

“Does anything else hurt?”

“Remus.”

Remus looked up.

Sirius loomed over him anyway, but he practically towered over him while wearing skates. Remus nearly had to crane his neck.

“What?” Remus asked, a little breathlessly.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t a bad hit.”

“I know. But given your recent history I want to make sure everything’s fine.”

Sirius sat down on the bench and took his helmet off, laying it to the side along with his gloves while Remus bent to start unlacing his skates. Remus’ heart was still pounding, and Sirius’ gray desperate eyes filled his head. He wouldn’t be helpless this time. He’d fixed Sirius’ broken bone, and he wouldn’t let anything go amiss, not now.

“Durmstrang’s always a tough one to call, eh? Sometimes they’re brilliant and sometimes they’re…”

“Angry?” Remus supplied, carefully sliding Sirius’ skates off of his feet before rising.

Sirius laughed a little, “Yeah. For sure, yeah.”

“Look here.” Remus held up a small flashlight and a finger. Sirius looked, but right at Remus, not his finger. A small smile was still lingering on his face. “My finger, Black.”

Sirius laughed again but obeyed this time.

“When’s your birthday?”

“November third.” Sirius supplied easily.

“When is Pots’ birthday?”

“March twenty-seventh. When’s your birthday, Re?”

Remus chest fluttered a little. He clicked off the flashlight, satisfied. “March tenth.”

“Hey, you and James are birthday-buddies.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Raise your arms. Touch your—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Sirius obediently brought his fingers to his nose and back out again a few times, then, without prompt, got up and walked in a straight line, toe to heel, and turned and looked at Remus expectantly.

Remus narrowed his eyes at him. “And your ankle? Tell me the truth.”

“Fine.” Sirius smiled and sat down in one of the chairs in the room to start getting his skates back on. “Really, Loops, I’m alright. It probably looked worse than it was.”

“It took you a bit to get up.”

Sirius shrugged down at his laces, digging his heel in to pull them tight, “I’ll admit, I was a little surprised. It’s the first real time I got hit since…you know. Since Snape. But you said it yourself,” He looked up at Remus then, sweat damp hair falling into his eyes a little, cheeks flushed, “can’t let the fear get to me, can I?”

Remus swallowed dryly. “Right. Yeah.” He watched Sirius until he was standing again and pulling his gloves back on, tucking his helmet beneath his arm. “Right, right. Sorry.” He opened the door, “Have a good second period, okay?”

Sirius paused beside him in the doorway, tall as ever with his skates back on and looking down at Remus. “Hey.”

Remus looked up at him. Sirius had a funny expression on his face, something soft and determined.

“Don’t ever say sorry for helping me,” Sirius’ voice was low when he said the words.

Remus caught one last glimpse of the odd expression, and then Sirius was gone, enveloped back into the energetic mass of the team.

They won 5-3, Sirius with three points, two goals and one assist, in the second and third period.

The locker room was ecstatic afterwards, and Remus was kneeling to tape up Kasey’s thigh for him when Arthur came out with the lion head. The lion head was this seasons team token, of sorts, an object that got past around the locker room after every game, depending on who played best that night. For the first game of the season, Coach was the one who handed it out. After that it would go from player to player. This year, the object looked like an overly-furry lion-mane and nose, maybe from some poor, cotton stuffed animal, sewed onto a baseball cap. Remus grimaced just looking at it. He didn’t want to think about how sweaty and disgusting that thing was going to become by the end of the season.

“Great game, boys. Great start to the beginning of the season.” There were some cheering and Arthur smiled, waving his hand, “As you know, it is my pride and joy making our season tokens.”

“What section of the wall is last year’s going on?” James said, making everyone laugh. Arthur’s creation last year had been a monstrous blend between a gladiator helmet that had a yarn lion tale glued to the back of it.

“Front and center, thanks for asking.” Coach said. “This year, we have…”

Kasey started a drumroll which the entire locker room eventually joined in on.

“Lion-cap. Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Arthur held it up. “And tonight…I’ve got to give it to the captain, don’t I?”

“Yeah you do!” James pounded the wall of his stall with his fist.

“Quite a hit, and beauties of goals. Sirius.”

Sirius laughed as he walked forward, just his underarmour on again, and put the hat on, crouching into a ridiculous pose so that James could take a picture. He looked hilarious in it, the mane fluffing out around his ears and the nose resting on the brim.

“Thanks, Coach.” He said, and then handed it off to Remus for safe keeping, per tradition. Remus was always put in charge of bring the token on roadies, and keeping track of who got it when.

Remus felt his phone buzz in his pocket and was pulled abruptly from the bubble of the team when he saw his mom’s name flash up. He slapped a hand to Kasey’s shoulder, telling him he was done, and slipped out of the locker room to answer.

“Hey, mum.”

“Hi, baby. Great game!”

“It was,” Remus smiled. “I’ll be right out to get you guys and we can get ice cream or something. I just have to—”

“Remus?”

Remus pressed the phone to his shoulder, turning on his heel back to the locker room. Sirius was standing there, head poking out and smiling a smile that looked almost—shy.

“Yeah? Hold on, mum—Sorry, can I help?”

“Bring them back,” Sirius said.

“Huh?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Your family. Bring them back, show them the locker room and stuff.”

“Oh.” Remus’ heart beat. He would love that. Julian would freak out. “Oh, I don’t want—”

“C’mon, the boys would love it. We can sign a jersey and stuff, or a stick.”

Remus’ mouth hung open for a minute before he heard himself say, “okay,” and Sirius grinned before retreating. Remus didn’t move until he heard his mom’s voice in his ear. He blinked a few times and raised his phone back up. “Hey, mum, do you want to…would you guys want to come back to the locker room?”

And so here Remus was, his parents and Jules in toe, walking down the all too familiar hallway.

Julian bounced up beside Remus, both hands around his arm. “Are we going to meet Sirius?”

Remus smiled, “probably.”

“Are we going to meet Pots?”

“Yep, him too.”

“Blizzard?”

Remus laughed, “I think you could meet Kasey, sure.”

“Can I take a picture with them?”

“If you say please,” Remus said, because it was definitely what his mom would say. Once they reach the locker room doors, he looked back at his parents. Both were wearing BLACK jerseys, which Remus found unbearably endearing and also slightly embarrassing now that Sirius knew how Remus felt about him as a hockey player. There was no doubt he was going to think Remus had had sway over his parents’ jersey choice. His dad was clutching his phone excitedly to his chest, and Remus couldn’t think why he hadn’t asked to do this sooner. He was glad Sirius had said something, and he’d make sure to tell him thank you later.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Ready, ready, open the doors!” Julian whisper-yelled.

The sound wave once Remus did hit them like a wall, and Remus heard Jules quiet down a little, maybe with nerves as the reality that this was actually happening set in, and Remus turned around to put a comforting hand on his back. He could see that the media was just leaving out the press door, which Remus was thankful for because it meant that none of the players would be surrounded by cameras. He didn’t want this to look like a photo-op.

He made eye contact with Sirius almost immediately, and tried to smile in a way that didn’t look like he expected Sirius to come over or anything. Sirius had a routine, and that included winding down. He looked like he was about to leave for his twenty minute cool down on one of the stationary bikes, and Remus didn’t want to interrupt that. But then Sirius was grinning and motioning them over.

“Oh.” Julian said softly from beside Remus, and Remus patted his head softly and motioned for his parents to follow him over to Sirius’ stall.

Sirius stood when they got there, grinning warmly.

“Who’s this?” Sirius asked, holding his fist out for a dumbstruck Julian to bump.

“These are my parents, Hope and Lyall, and this is Julian, my brother.” Remus said, smiling a little at Jules’ expression. His heart was pounding. “Say hi, Jules.”

“Hi Padfoot. I mean—” Julian flushed.

Sirius laughed. “You can call me Padfoot if I can call you Jules. You play hockey, bud?”

Julian nodded frantically, “yeah, I’m a center, too.”

“Nice.” Sirius raised his eyes briefly to Remus’ parents and held out his hand for them to shake, “Hi, I’m Sirius.” As if they didn’t know, as if they weren’t wearing his last name on their backs, “Did you all enjoy the game?”

“That was such a nasty hit on you.” Julian said, eyes going from Sirius’ face to his locker to his pads to his stick.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, we hope you’re alright.” Hope said with a very motherly disapproving frown.

Sirius nodded and, to Remus’ surprise, threw an arm around Remus’ shoulder. “Your son took care of me. Remus takes the best care of us, right James?”

James had come over with a protein bar hanging out of his mouth, but took a bite and chewed quickly when he put together who he was speaking to.

“Jesus f—” He looked at Julian whose eyes were practically hearts. “Hi,” James said again, laughing a little at himself, “you must be Loops’ parents.” James looked down at Julian again, “And older brother, I presume? What’s up, man? Here to try out?”

“Yeah.” Julian said softly, clearly barely able to think, and they all laughed.

Remus, on the other hand, was much to pre-occupied with Sirius’ arm which, having slid away from his shoulders, was now briefly a warm, pressing weight between his shoulder blades, before it disappeared completely as he slapped the seat of his stall.

“Well I’m certainly not going to have a spot on this team if you’re playing, so you might as well take a seat. Let’s see, what will he need to be a Lion, Pots?”

James crossed his arms, pretending to think hard. “Jersey, definitely.”

“Oh, two, I’d say.” Sirius added, “And a couple sticks, don’t you think?”

Julian, now seated snuggly in Sirius’ stall, was red-cheeked with happiness.

“On it.” James said, and winked at Remus as he left to get a few of his and Sirius’ jerseys and sticks to sign.

Sirius on the other hand, crouched down to Julian’s level. “Hey, Jules, do you know how awesome your brother is?”

Julian grinned up at Remus, then back at Sirius. “Yeah.”

Sirius nodded back, “He does practically everything for us. Gets us new skate blades, makes sure we have what we need on the road, keeps us healthy.” Then Sirius looked at him with a similarly fond and happy expression that Julian was wearing, and Remus felt a little like he might cry which would be completely and utterly embarrassing. “He’s pretty great.”

Remus felt his own cheeks flush. “Okay, okay, thanks.”

Hope laughed from beside him, squeezing him in a one armed hug. “Never could take a compliment, could you, Re?”

“That was a lot of compliments.” Remus laughed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stop looking at Sirius and Sirius wasn’t looking away.

Remus felt like he was back in Sirius’ car, unsure what it all meant.

“Hey, did you know I’m your brother’s favorite player?” Sirius asked Jules.

“You’re mine, too! We both have your jersey!”

Remus flushed and had to look away from Sirius and his raised eyebrows then, pretending to watch James come back across the locker room with the gear. He didn’t want to hear what Sirius had to say about that.

James and Sirius were both at Julian’s level for a good fifteen minutes, signing things, taking pictures, and talking hockey. Kasey even came over before leaving to sign the jerseys and offer one of his own sticks. Remus didn’t know how Julian was going to carry it all.

His parents eventually left for their hotel with promises to meet him for breakfast the next morning and their favorite pancake spot—really everyone’s favorite pancake spot—in Gryffindor. Remus watched them walk back to their car until they turned out of view, smiling to himself at Jules’ insistence that he carry all three sticks and wear both jerseys at once.

Remus stopped by the exercise room on his way back to lock up the office for the night and, as expected, Sirius was there. He looked fresh off the bike and was on one of the mats, stressing his fingers towards his toes. Remus knocked lightly.

“Hey,” Sirius said with a grin.

“Hi.” Remus walked in a few more paces and leaned against one of the treadmills, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the floor softly. “I don’t want to interrupt you or anything, but I just wanted to thank you. For earlier. You—You really made my little brother’s life, there. He loves you guys.”

Sirius stood, dusting off his leggings and picked up his water bottle from the floor. “I hope he’s not the only one.”

Remus bit back a smile, and his heart clenched. If only Sirius knew what he was saying.

“Of course,” was all Remus could think of to reply.

“You’re family seems great, Re. Really.”

“They are,” Remus replied before he thought about what that statement probably meant, coming from Sirius. Sirius who didn’t have a family like that. Remus felt guilt and the want to strangle anyone who didn’t love Sirius properly swirl in his chest. Sirius deserved so much. Look what he would do for just one kid who he never even met, for Remus, who he barely knew outside of his work.

“I’m headed out soon.” Sirius said. “Do you need a ride?”

Remus shook his head, “Moody said he’d drive me.”

Even though everything in him was screaming at him to lie and say yes, he didn’t want to explain that to Moody.

“Ah.” Sirius said, nodding. He looked, if not disappointed, something like it. “Okay. Well, let me know, eh? Any time.”

“Thanks, Sirius.” Remus was aware of how soft his voice sounded, but there wasn’t much he could do about it with Sirius’ gray eyes on him.

Sirius smiled, a soft and lopsided thing, and Remus’ heart flipped in his chest. As Sirius left for the showers, Remus got back to his desk. On it, was a hat.

It was a Lions hat, red with gold piping and the gold lion. On the bill, in the gold sharpie that the team used for signing, was a messily scrawled message and a signature. Sirius’ signature, complete with the number twelve.

I’m glad I’m your favorite, it read.

(A/N: Ah, slowly but surely....:)

[kelelamentia]

Dinner at Wayne Manor

Dinner at Wayne Manor

@ozmav you wound me up and set me loose.

 Wayne Manor:

In the front hall standing in a line was Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim and Damien; in that orders, with Alfred standing in front of them like an officer in front of his troops.

“Now, when Ms.Marinette arrives there will be no inappropriate language, no crude gestures or noises, and there will be no interrogation.  Do you gentlemen understand?”

“Yes Alfred.” Was the group response, Damien felt that he should add something.

“I would never behave in such manner in front of Marinette.”

“So you’ll do it behind her?” Tim prodded.

“No! Of course not Drake, Marinette deserves a gentleman.”

“So you’re going to look for one for her Baby Bird?  Is that why you’re bringing her here, to introduce her to us?” Dick teased looking over to the youngest.  Damien growled at Dick.

“Boys please don’t get into a fight, Alfred just cleaned and we want to NOT look like idiots for our guest.” Bruce interrupted.

“I don’t think we have to worry Bruce, anyone that the Demon Spawn brings here is probably just as rude and demonic as he is.” Jason shot at Damien.

“Shut up Todd, I’m not demonic and neither is Marinette.”

“You can be a bit…rude little D.” Dick pointed out.

“I’ve improved Grayson, unlike these two.” Damien nodded towards Jason and Tim, who were trying to guess what Marinette looked like.

“How much do you want to bet this girl has piercings Timmy-Boy.”

“Piercings, no, leather, spikes and combat boots? Totally, Jason.”

“Or maybe tattoos.”

“Boys!” Bruce yelled, getting their attention.

“That is rude and uncalled for, stop.”

“Aw, come on Bruce you can’t honestly believe that…”

*Ahem*

Alfred cut Jason off by clearing his throat.

“What did I just go over Master Jason?”

“Sorry Alfred.”

“Indeed, now Ms.Marinette will here in just a moment and I want you to at least pretend to be respectable young men.”

*Doorbell rings*

“There she is now, if you would please wait in the living room, I will greet Ms.Marinette.” Alfred announced.

“How does he do that!?” Everyone muttered as they walked to the living room.

 Living Room:

The Wayne family was sitting around in various spots when Alfred brought in a young girl wearing a sky blue sun dress, with a light gray cropped jacket (Which, unknown to them had a hidden pocket for TIkki), wearing light gray flats, carrying a medium sized box.

“Hello everyone I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, it’s nice to meet you.” Marinette introduced herself.

Damien was the first to respond, the other left mute at what they were seeing.

“Hello Marinette I’m thrilled you come.”

“Hi Damien, I’m happy you invited me.” Marinette said turning a bit shy.

Burce was the first one to snap out of his haze.

“Hello Marinette, I’m Bruce Wayne, welcome to our home.”

“Hello Mr.Wayne.”

“Please call me Bruce Marinette, I want you to feel welcome.  Let me introduce the rest of the boys.” Burce started, turning towards the other three boys in the room.

“This is my eldest, Dick.”

“You.Are.So.Cute.” Dick said in rhythm of him bouncing on his chair, making Marinette blush, Damien grit his teeth, and Bruce sigh.

“My second eldest, Jason.”

“Blink twice if you’re here against your will Sweet heart.” Jason winked, Damien was now gritting his teeth and glaring, Bruce plowed on.

“And my second youngest, Tim.”

“You’re cute, and calm, and not glaring at everything.  You‘re Damien’s girl! I can’t believe it!” Tim stressed as he pulled his hair with both of his hands.  Damien was now giving out a low growl; Marinette decided it would be best if she stepped in.

“It’s nice to meet all of you, but I’m not here against my will and I’m not Damien’s g-girl.” Marinette started strong and finish faintly.  A secret smile was shared between Bruce and Alfred, Bruce’s attention was then drawn towards the box Marinette held.

“Did you bring something Marinette?”

“Yes, I brought some Macrons that I hope everyone will enjoy.”

Damien jolted.

“You didn’t have to bring anything Marinette.”

“Master Damien is correct Ms.Marinette, this was not necessary.” Alfred added.

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to, so I did.” Marinette chirped opening up the box show them what’s inside.

Inside was 15 macrons, each styled after a member of the Bat-family.

“I hope you don’t mind if they are decorated after Gotham’s heroes.” Marinette questioned.  The male were gathered around the box in stunned silence, when Dick broke it.

“I’ve never seen anything like this around Gotham before, and there is a lot of bat-themed stuff out there.”

“That’s because I made them!” Marinette cheered.

“What?!” was the group response.

“You made these Marinette? These look better that any other Bat-themed cookie I’ve seen before.” Bruce praised.

“These look marvelous Marinette, but where did you make them?  Your hotel room doesn’t have a kitchen.”  Damien asked, unaware that his brother’s will be teasing him about know what Marinette’s hotel room looked like later.

“I asked the hotel kitchen staff if I could.  They said yes, but only if they could have the left over cookies.”

“What flavours are they?” Jason questioned, Marinette began her answer.

“The Batman ones are a black-berry, the Nightwing ones are blue-berry, the Red Hood ones are spiced dark chocolate, the Red Robin ones are mocha (Because, I heard he likes coffee), and the Robin ones are strawberry.”

“Wow, this must have taken you awhile to make.” Dick commented.

“It wasn’t hard, my family owns a bakery in Paris, and so I’ve had lots of practice.”

“Wait! You’re cute, sweet, bake AND you STILL like Damien??!!” Tim just couldn’t understand! As Tim was having a brake-down, Jason was reaching for one of the cookies; only to have his hand slapped away by Alfred.

“Now Master Jason these macrons will be save for after dinner.” Alfred scolded taking the box from Marinette’s hands.

“Everyone please make their way to the dining room dinner is now ready.”

*Oven timer ding*

Alfred walks to the kitchen leaving the boys to bring Marinette to the table.

“How did he do that?” Marinette asked, and everyone answered.

“We don’t know.”

 Dining room:

Alfred brought out a delicious meal of roasted chicken and steam vegetables, with a garlic toast side. With the main meal out of the way, they felt they should let their meal settle before having cookies and decided to get to know Marinette better.

“So Marinette, what are you interested in doing, Damien had mentioned you like designing.” Bruce began.

“I do, just recently I finished a project for Jagged Stone and…”

“Wait!” Tim shouted.

“You are THAT Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the one who made Jagged Stone’s “Hard Rock” Album cover and famous Eiffel tower glasses, and inspired Clara Nightingale to change music video, at 14! And most recently just made both their outfits for the World Wide Music Awards?!” Tim exclaimed pointing at Marinette.

“The f-“

“Jason!” Bruce managed to cut off the swear word before it left his mouth.

“I loved Jagged’s suit” Dick reminisced fondly, Jagged Stone was very popular in the Wayne house.

Damien just stared in wonder at the girl sitting beside him, she has already achieved great things, but is still humble, not bring it up unless someone asked her first.

“That is very impressive Ms.Marinette, I look forward to seeing your designs in person one day.”

“Thank you Alfred.” Marinette managed to squeak out.

“You’re welcome, now I believe it is time for cookies.” Alfred returned to the kitchen to bring the box out and giving everyone a chance to calm down.

Cookies were brought out and everyone grabbed one, with the exception Marinette saying she already had plenty of cookies.  Bruce and Alfred had Batman cookies, Dick; Nightwing, Jason: Red Hood, Tim; Red Robin, and Damien; Robin.

In synchronous, everybody took a bite.

Marinette fidgeted nervously in her chair, waiting for a reaction.

Dick started the chain.

“WHOA!”

“Holy Sh-“Jason was cut off again by Bruce.

“Jason! But, these are fabulous cookies Marinette”

“Agreed Master Bruce, I must get your recipe Ms.Marinette.”

Tim was just staring at his cookie, like it could answer all his questions.

“Marinette these taste as fantastic as they look.” Damien complemented.

“Thank you Damien, your opinion means so much to me.” Marinette smiled at Damien, she then continued.

“Did save one of each to leave on the balcony for Gotham’s Heroes (I hear that’s popular).  Do you think they would like them?”

Bruce froze and recovered.

“I’m sure they would love them just as much we do.”

The evening went on and soon it was time for Marinette to leave.

 Front Entrance:

“I’m sorry to say that I have to leave, but I should get back to the hotel before it becomes too dark.”

“Its fine Marinette, I’d rather you get back safely more than anything else.” Damien assured.

Marinette then turned her attention to everyone else.

“Thank you have having me, it was great to meet all of you, and I hope you enjoy the cookies.”

“I’m glad you came to visit Marinette, I hope to see you again soon.” Bruce nodded.

“Yeah come by again little Lady and bring more cookies.” Dick grinned.

“Any baked good you bring will be welcome here Pixie-Pop.” Jason smirked.

“Yes welcome to come by again.” Tim distracted by his phone said, causing Alfred to shoot a sharp look at him.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening Ms.Marinette.” Alfred said in farewell, holding the door open her.

Marinette got in her ride and drove away; a new topic came up from Tim.

“Hey Brat, what kind of ring do you want to get Marinette?”

“What?!” Damien turned his head so fast, it’s miracle he didn’t snap his neck.

“Hey!  You found a girl that’s cute, sweet, bakes, started/runs her own business at 14, and can tame your sorry butt.  The smartest thing to do right now is keep her, now what kind of ring.”

“Drake!”

“Choose pink diamonds Tim, she likes pink.”

“Grayson!”

“On a silver band, that would look nice.” Dick inputted.

“On it.”

“Hey Demon Spawn.” Jason called drawing Damien’s attention.

“How do you know what her hotel room looks like?  Were you spying on her?”

“NO Todd! I would never do such a thing!”

“Rrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiigggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhttttttttt” Jason dragged out.

As the bickering continued Alfred and Bruce stood off to the side, and sighed, both knowing something was going to get broken before patrol.

End.

That was Dinner at Wayne Manor

Also…

Extra:

Later that night Marinette left a box of Batfam themed cookies on her balcony, with a note saying;

“Thank you, for all that you do. –Marinette”

And went to bed.

The next morning the box was empty and a new note was left behind.

“We do what we can, thank you for the cookies, they’re great.” It was signed by all of them.

[iphoenixrising]

you know, I really love how badass and capable Tim is but I’m weak for the trope where a character gets in a bad sitch (maybe held captive) and their love interests go nuts trying to get them back and they’re furious seeing he’s hurt and restrained (baddie tied + gagged them too tight?)when they do rescue him maybe Jay and Dick are so tender and caring oof what are your thoughts?

WELL BABE. I mean with characters like Tim Drake and Tony Stark, overprotective (boy)friends tearing through bad guy installations with feral intent to get Tim/Tony back just waters my crops and clears my skin. It’s fucking beautiful.

I mean, let’s just say

Once and a while, every vigilante has a bad fucking night.

It just happen to be Red Robin’s turn.

The residual owfuck isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. That is, once he gets himself out of this before terrible bad guys with an apparent fetish for brass knuckles and knives come back to finish the job. After a lucky shot took his zip line out mid-leap, the night had gone from generally shitty to progressively worse. Catching a hard fire escape knocked him mostly out on the way down. He’d initially come to when the fist to his solar plexus is just about agonizing.

Whatever hits he’d taken on the way down to the street damaged the suit’s security, which is the only reason it didn’t shock the shit out of anyone when they grabbed him by the arms, held him there for the first round of blows.

It’s an occasional thing, for one of them to get balls deep in imminent fucking peril. There’s nights when sleep dep and stress, the day job and night job colliding, too many bads and not enough goods, nights when a one wrong step, one bad contingency, one hesitation, is enough for them to get the drop.

Which leads them to this disgustingly dingy, blood-splattered warehouse down on the East Side, where Red is dangling from a chain in the ceiling like a side of raw beef for the slaughter.

And while blood is sluggishly running down the side of his face and his jaw feels like it’s on fire, while his gauntlets are useless and the manacles are on fucking point, when his chest fucking hurts and the fire in his side makes his eyes water because really, just a concussion can’t be enough.

(R – Robert, heh.)

When he’s giving himself a few minutes to just breathe it out, take a second to let the pain settle, half in meditation to try getting mentally past this for an epic kind of escape he’s about to pull off.

Any minute now.

But really, he just had a rough night, and the fact these ass hats left the damn door open is really just a testament on how easy this is going to be once he feels up to taking down a few thugs or twenty.

(And just why did he have to walk into an impromptu gun fight between two rival gangs that decided to work together instead – against him. What’s taken the groups out of the room is arguments on who was going to get the glory and what bosses to call and inform. He’s pretty sure he’s got about at least ten minutes or so before everyone comes back for another few rounds of kick the shit out of the vigilante.)

So, he’s good. Totally got this.

It’s in the bag.

Ten minutes.

His forearms get tight, wrists immobile when he starts pulling his weight up to get some slack on the connecting chain, going to need to have room to pick the locks–

when the abrupt tremble and loud sounds of shit just breaking comes through the open door, jarring him too much for his warped brain pan to handle, and he drops back down a few inches, grunting with the jerking motions on his upper body.

Gunfire explodes and people are absolutely screaming. Things get a little more real because at this juncture, it could be anything from more fighting between themselves or another rival group walking in on an obvious base of operations.

It’s apparent he’s out of time when several come running back in, guns out, panicked and talking over one another.

Dammit. His brain hurts.

But even if his fingers are numb still in his glove, he’s slowly working the lock pick set out of his useless gauntlets, looking forward to getting free fast enough to take out the room before even thinking of taking on the fuckery happening behind that door.

What he expects is to get more roughed up before the night is over. What he doesn’t expect is for a body to slam into the room, blood arching in the same angle as the nice landing right at Red Robin’s bound feet dangling a few inches off the ground. The second body immediately following fell close enough for Red’s whiteouts to narrow down at the face beaten to hamburger, a thoughtful noise muffled through the gag shoved in his mouth.

He has a moment to register, that looks familiar, before the impressive silhouettes fill the door, and the calvary has apparently arrived.

To say he is literally boned is probably an understatement because he can see the tension all over them. Tight fists and forearms, shoulders squared, thighs tense, and game faces right the hell on.

It’s the terrifying vigilantes Nightwing and the Red Hood, towers of kicking ass and taking names –

and the thugs in the room gape at the picture those two make, blood sprays all over their suits, smoking barrels and sparking escrima sticks, lips curled up off N’s teeth to snarl, Hood to lower his chin enough that those whiteouts are fixed.

He catches a breath through his mouth since he’s pretty sure his nose is broken or dislocated, beaten body tensing for one of the thugs to get smart, turn, and fire at him.

But, it doesn’t happen because the Red Hood and Nightwing strike like an avenging wave of brutally beautiful justice. They move together like water, the fight never stopping until the bodies are piled high, a job well done. And as much as Red Robin would like to say he feels something crazily like relief, the all together different noise he makes through the gag is telling on what else watching them fight (for him) does to him.

“Aww, Big Wing, lookit what those fuckers did,” is slightly distorted through the synths, and he must have blinked a little too long because suddenly both of his vigilante boyfriends are right there, bracketing him in, being absurdly careful when they run gloved hands over him to find injuries. Hood goes for the gag tied so harshly, N hurriedly helping from behind him.

“Hey Baby, you with us?” is soft and gentle, the contrast to the savage beat-down N just had a hand in a few minutes ago.

Once the cloth is out of his dry mouth, gloved fingers rub the indents, and the helmet is tilted up at him.

“H-how did–”

“Shh, shh. Gonna getcha down, yeah? S’good, Sweets, we gotchu.” Already stretching up on his toes to work the manacles fast while N sweeps up his bound legs from behind, holding him up to take the weight off his wrists.

“There we go,” and a nuzzle against his face, sweet relief when his wrist and hands pop free, and he tries to work the feeling back in his fingers, laying against Nightwing’s chest for just a moment to be dizzy and relieved.

“Thanks for the save,” Red Robin woozily banters, “bad guys can be such ass hats.”

“Don’t I know it,” Hood gives a solid kick to one of the bodies twitching on the floor before coming around to gently fit a gloved hand on Red’s bruised jaw, thumb the mask so the whiteouts slide up and they can see how dazed his eyes are. He n’ N exchange a worried glance while Red pats the hand on his jaw and maneuvers himself out of the octopus hold, a little wobbly but still on point.

“All right, I’m on clean-up since I was the metaphorical damsel this time–” is cut off with a whoosh of breath when he leans over enough to brace a hand on the wall when owfuck gets a little more serious than he expects.

“Nothin’ doin’.” Is Hood nipping that little sitch in the bud, already a towering presence at his side, a heavy arm sliding around his back, “me n’ N done already gave the coppers a heads-up, you feel me, Sweets?”

“We’ve already tied up most the rivals in the building,” Nightwing soothes the one to step up into his space and tilt his face up this time, “and you are going right back to the Manor to be patched up. You’ve got a concussion and who knows what else.”

“Hey, it’s okay, really–” because missing a spleen anyone? He’s been through worse, worked through worse, and still brought out his inner bad ass. These two? Need to take a pill.

“Nu-uh. Ya try ta ged outta it, then we’re callin’ in the big guns. You feel me here?”

And oh no. No, no, no.

“Too late,” is growled somewhere in the vicinity of shadows over their shoulders.

When Red Robin spins on his heel and almost falls, Hood and Nightwing move fast to catch him by the arms so he doesn’t fall in front of the very stern-looking Robin suddenly steps from the shadows, both hands out to steady him by the hips.

Looming over him like Hood and N, Robin’s forehead is wrinkled in that special way when he’s scowling behind the domino. Red Robin manages to gasp before all six-foot-two of concerned vigilante is all over his everything.

Everyone is well-aware Robin doesn’t take any of his shit and is extremely efficient. What few, select people only know–

–he can also be extraordinary gentle.

This time, when Red Robin is swept up against another chest, another symbol, he doesn’t fight it, not when the youngest leans down and says something softly against his ear.

“Let us care for you, Beloved.”

He sighs a little and lists closer, throwing an around around those shoulders and idly fiddles with the cape.

“Better,” Hood uses a gloved thumb to run over his busted nose.

“I want a hot shower and bed,” Red admits wearily, “I can be a stubborn ass about it some other time.”

N chuckles sadly, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of his head. “That’s a good choice, Timmy. We’re going to find a second to eat between that, okay?”

He hums a little, trying to lay his face down on his arm somewhere that wouldn’t hurt. “I guess. Hot shower first, please.”

The bang of grapples echo against the sirens screaming in the night, and the Bats take off, flying over the rooftops to transportation not far off. Hood and N take driver and shotty so Robin can continue to cradle their bird on the ride back.

He might bitch good-naturedly about Hood driving the Red Bird like a literal bat out of hell, but it gets all kinds of shut down when Robin tenderly presses his mouth to the bruises on Red’s jaw and rubs soothing circles on the back of his neck.

Nightwing is the one that hops out and takes him from Robin to carry up to the Perch, talking low against his ear about the pick-up from the GCPD so he honestly feels better about where the night has taken him.

But it’s Jason Todd that runs a bath instead of the shower and strips down, runs gentle hands over the bruises and contusions, soaps him up to wash away the night. The two of them wrapped in towels while Jay sets his nose fast enough that it’s really not as bad as it could have been.

Dick towels his hair dry while he sits at the kitchen table, shivering, and Dami kneels by him to check out each injury with the first-aid tackle box in easy reach. Coffee is off the menu (a crime against humanity!) but the hot chocolate has been left to cool enough not to sting his sore mouth.

The eventual clothes are a combination from the communal drawer so he’s swimming in Dami’s shirt and Jay’s cut-off sweats, several ice packs bandaged over them on the worst of the swelling.

Grilled paninis and soup are utter heaven because A) Jay and Dami can cook, B) everything is easy to eat with a bruised face and cuts on the inside of his mouth, but also C) cute boyfriends keep giving him gentle kisses and touches whenever they come within a literal foot of him.

And they’re so good about it, taking care of him without being too smothering (at least no one has threatened to call his team – yet) through getting patched up and fed.

No, no, they wait for it.

Once he’s wrangled into bed, the three of them surrounding him in warmth and comforting touches, he’s pretty much trapped until morning.

Honestly, it’s probably the best part of the night.