#him and tim have kissed at least once but just never brought it up again. the feelings were mutual though

[icarrymany]

i ranted 2 the bestie abt how. if you hc all the guys as man likers theyre all in varying stages of realizing and accepting that

[theflyindutchwoman]

Hello! Do you think Tim only realized he had feelings for Lucy after their kisses in 4x22 and 5x01? Wouldn't it be a little odd?

I mean, in one episode he is telling Ashely he thinks they are "magic together" and being sad that she doesn't want to get married or have kids, and the very next episode he is all shook when Lucy kisses him, like he's just realizing in that moment that he might have romantic feelings for her.

Isn't that, like, juvenile? I would understand it if Tim was a boy falling in love with the first girl he kisses, but he's a grown man who was married before and knows what love feels like. He shouldn't need a kiss to realize it.

I guess I'm just trying to make sense of things. Because in the end I just find it very hard to believe the path the show chose to follow, of Tim beeing so oblivious of his feelings for Lucy, to the point of seeing his future with another woman, and then the kiss just turns a switch and he is suddenly aware of her romantically.

(With Lucy, at least, the emotional came before the physical. In 4x21 it was explicitly shown that Lucy had romantic feelings for Tim. And she also never considered a future with Chris like Tim did with Ashley - Lucy didn't want to be called his girlfriend, didn't want to meet his parents and ultimately didn't want to move in with him. So I can understand it better.)

Let me start with the usual disclaimer : this is merely my interpretation, so take this with a grain of salt, of course. And since this is going to be an essay (as always), I broke down your message point by point.

Do you think Tim only realized he had feelings for Lucy after their kisses in 4x22 and 5x01? Wouldn't it be a little odd? I guess it depends what we mean by "realise" here. I think the kiss is when it really hit him and he could no longer be in denial. But I'm a firm believer that Angela's wedding/the sleepover at his place was when Tim started to get some inklings that there might be more to his bond with Lucy than mere friendship. The elevator eyes, the almost-kiss, the fidgeting in bed… Those were classic signs of pining. But with Angela's abduction and Jackson's death, whatever realisation he might have had, took a step back. It wasn't the right time. Neither him, nor Lucy were in the right emotional space for pursuing these feelings. And with time, it was probably easy to just chalk it up to a one time thing or ignore it altogether. Especially once Lucy became his aide and thus, his direct subordinate once again. He was not going to entertain the thought. Or at the very least, try not to. Not to mention that he didn't have any real reason to believe it was reciprocated, so why rock the boat? But the kiss was a game-changer. It happened after a season of them getting even closer and it brought back to the surface all the things he had buried, consciously or not. Only this time, he couldn't put a lid back on those feelings. It was a full-circle moment.

I mean, in one episode he is telling Ashely he thinks they are "magic together" and being sad that she doesn't want to get married or have kids, and the very next episode he is all shook when Lucy kisses him, like he's just realizing in that moment that he might have romantic feelings for her. Tim telling Ashley he thought they were great together is absolutely fascinating… partly because that was pretty much how Lucy described her relationship with Chris (only in a less hyperbolic way) right before she decided to break up with him… But most of all, it's the context surrounding this "confession" that makes it interesting. It all started because Lucy asked Tim if he was planning to propose. Since he looked completely taken aback, odds are it wasn't something he was remotely considering before she brought it up. The more she talked about it, the more he looked annoyed and uncomfortable. It took hours of needling for him to finally take a second and ponder about it. But look at his face. I'm sorry but like my husband said the first time we watched this episode : curb your enthusiasm Timothy! This was supposed to be an epiphany of some sort for him… And yet, he remained pretty stoic. Compare that to his reaction to the kiss. This was a proper reaction. And after this supposedly epiphany, here's what he exactly told Ashley :

The reason Lucy was so annoying today is that she is convinced that you think I'm taking you to Hawaii to propose. But, I mean, you don't… you don't think that, right? 'C-Cause I'm not. I mean, I-I think we are magic together, but I…

Does that sound like a love confession of some kind? Or does it sound like a guy starting to panic and trying to make sure his intentions aren't misconstrued? Personally, I'm leaning towards the latter : I read this as someone trying to soften the blow before he tells his girlfriend he doesn't intend to propose. His "we are magic together" is immediately followed by a "but", downplaying the statement… And in case that wasn't enough, the fact that he was able to prank Lucy with a fake proposal two seconds later tells me that he wasn't that devastated about Ashley's desire to not get married and have children. I'm not saying he wasn't sad at all : he did look disappointed. It's just that he was able to bounce back very fast and I'm honestly not sure he would have been able to if that was something he was truly planning with her. Most importantly : if he thought they were truly magic, he wouldn't have been shooketh to the core by just a kiss (mere days later) or consider cheating on his girlfriend (again mere days later). It's not a coincidence that this declaration happened right before the kiss.

Isn't that, like, juvenile? I would understand it if Tim was a boy falling in love with the first girl he kisses, but he's a grown man who was married before and knows what love feels like. He shouldn't need a kiss to realize it. To me, it's not that he wasn't aware of his feelings for her : it's that he didn't even let himself entertain the possibility. The kiss changed that. Especially with Lucy initiating it. Let's also not forget that, unlike with Isabel, he didn't meet her as his equal. He was her training officer and then, her sergeant. That's a complete different dynamic here. And another layer of complexity. Especially for a rule follower like him. There's a reason why he kept repeating that Lucy wasn't his partner. He was trying to maintain a wall. So yes, he might know what love feels like. Like I already said, I think he might have recognised the early signs, he was just in denial. Something that Tim can be very good at. That is, until he couldn't any more. But again, things were so different with Lucy, it was never as clear-cut as in a regular relationship. Romance was never the intent. He started as her boss, then colleague/partner/friend. To the point that she became his person. Speaking from experience, it can be difficult to fully recognise when things turn romantic when you already have a deeper bond with someone. And that's why I don't mind the kiss as his light bulb moment : when the lines get blurred, you sometimes need a (metaphorical) slap in the face to get some perspective. That's what the kiss was. It cut through all his defenses, all the chatter in his head. His brain short-circuited and that's exactly what he needed. To stop thinking and start listening to his heart.

I guess I'm just trying to make sense of things. Because in the end I just find it very hard to believe the path the show chose to follow, of Tim beeing so oblivious of his feelings for Lucy, to the point of seeing his future with another woman, and then the kiss just turns a switch and he is suddenly aware of her romantically. Did Tim really see a future with Ashley though? I know he said as much but he might not be the most reliable here. Because here are the facts : marriage was not on his mind until Lucy talked about it. Not only that, but Ashley and him apparently hadn't even talked about the future since he didn't know how she felt about kids or marriage. As far as we know, he never told her he loved her. He never talked about them moving together. The closest thing we got was Ashley daydreaming of moving to Bali… which he entertained for a minute before reminding her he wasn't going to retire. Keep in mind that this is the same guy who told Lucy that if she and Chris were serious, moving in was the next logical step. Or that if she wasn't fighting in her relationship at all, maybe it was because she didn't think it was worth the bother. Since all of the above apply to him, what does it say about his own relationship? I honestly always felt like Tim was just going along with the motion with Ashley. He was around 40 and divorced ; one of his closest friend Angela got married and had a child a few months earlier ; Nyla - who, like him, went through a divorce - also got married and was expected another child… Things he told Lucy he thought he would have by now. So to me, he was simply tired of being alone. But that didn't make him more committed. He just didn't think he would get something better. Those are two different things.

As for why it was the chosen path : I believe that the writers chose this because they wanted to make a full circle moment for Tim and Lucy. They started the season with a hug, almost kissing. They ended it with the kiss and the realisation that they might have feelings for the other. It was the culmination of all the little moments that happened during the season. But I perfectly understand if you feel differently. I just hope all of this can shed some light on those scenes... and that it actually provided some answers. Let me know if you want me to expand on some points.

[bishopsbelova]

Chenford + Why did you date Ashley??

Or you can read it on A03

Lucy’s standing, leaning against her counter, slowly stirring her coffee when Tim finally appears from the bedroom. “So why did you date Ashley?”

The words escape Lucy's mouth before she even gives it a second thought. She doesn’t know why she asks it now of all places - sure she’s been wondering about it for a while; but she wasn’t planning on just bombarding him with it this early in the morning. 

Tim stumbles, his hand frozen midway towards the coffee pot. He slowly pulls back, turning around and leans against the counter.

"What?" he asks, slowly, running a hand over his face and wishing his half asleep brain would catch up.

They had both had a late night, coming in at the wee hours of the morning to try and crash for just a couple of hours, before going back into their separate cases. It���d been a wild and busy last few weeks - between Lucy’s detective hours and Metro’s hours, they’d mostly been seeing each other in passing. 

"Um," Lucy immediately starts backtracking, both physically and figuratively. As if she finally realized just what had tumbled out of her mouth.  "You know what, never mind."

Tim turns around and leans against Lucy's kitchen counter. He smirks as he crosses his arms over his chest. A part of Lucy is wondering if he wishes he could throw the question back at her; except he's the one who set her up with Chris in the first place.

“Lucy,” he starts, reaching for his coffee cup again. 

She glances towards the clock on the stove and once again tries to shove the subject off. “We’ve both got to get to work. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s fine, Lucy,” Tim says, taking a sip of the coffee. “Just probably not the right time, all things considered.” 

Suddenly his voice starts ringing and he reaches for it, answering with a crisp. “Bradford…. Be right there.” 

“Duty calls,” Lucy says. 

He walks around the counter so that he can pass her on his way back towards the bedroom. He presses a kiss into her forehead. “We’ll talk later, I promise.” 

//

Turns out later wasn’t until roughly fourteen hours later, when he was finally coming into the apartment with a bag of takeout in his hand. Lucy’s up, curled on the couch with a glass of wine waiting for him. 

“I figured you’d still be up,” Tim comments, setting the bag on the counter before kicking off his shoes. He nods towards the bag. “So I got extra.”

“Angela and I grabbed a bite after work,” Lucy says, standing up from the couch. “But that was a couple hours ago, I could eat a little.” 

Tim drops his work bag by the door with the intention of getting it later. He walks towards the counter, untying the take-out bag and dishing out the container. 

Lucy walks the short distance, placing the wine glass on the counter as she heads for the cabinet for plates. “You know, it’s late, we don’t have to –”

“It’s not that late.” Tim shrugs. He’s right, it’s only just before nine and she’s finally off tomorrow - mostly at the insistence of her new boss after the past week. 

“Wait,” she starts, turning around with the plates and setting them on the island. “Don’t you have to work –”

Tim shakes his head as he opens one of the food containers. “We finally rounded up all the criminals we were looking for, got a break in our case and I figured with the two long days, we could all take a day or at least a half day.” 

“Right.” 

A beat of silence passed between them while food was divided up onto the plates, a smaller portion on Lucy’s. They take a seat at the island with their plates and Lucy reaches for her wine glass. 

“I don’t know if there was really a set list of reasons why,” Tim says eventually, breaking the silence. He speaks slowly as if he’s not really sure how to get the words out. “She was there, she was nice and we got along…the first date went decent enough and it just kept going until it didn’t.” 

Lucy just nods. 

“Maybe it was also a distraction.”

Lucy raises an eyebrow. “Distaction?”

Tim turns towards her, a glint in his eyes that she can’t quite place. “I think that’s probably pretty obvious, Luce.” He lets out a sigh. “But maybe she was a distraction from whatever the hell I had going on and whatever the hell was between us.” 

Lucy sighs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe it should have been obvious after that double date we went on.” 

Tim chuckles and ducks his head, as if he too is remembering how they spent more time that time talking to each other instead of their dates. It should have scared her then - how comfortable she was around him, how easy conversation happened despite how long they saw each other every day - but it never did and it still doesn’t. 

“So what about you?”

Lucy hesitates, her wine glass hovering in mid air. “You’re technically the one who pushed me to go out with Chris.” 

“But not why you dragged it out,” he turns towards her. “Even towards the end there, you wanted to end things; but didn’t. Even asked me for advice on how to, in case you forgot.” 

Lucy lets out a breath and turns to fully face him, meeting his gaze. “Maybe it was just somewhat easier, hiding in a nowhere relationship instead of facing the truth.” 

She thinks back to how scared she was of admitting how she felt about Tim, about the possibility of losing the most important relationship she’s had. As if reading her thoughts, knowing exactly where she went, Tim reaches across the space, places a hand on her knee and squeezes. 

“Be that as it may, we got to where we were supposed to be eventually.” “Yeah, we did.”

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 15

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven't written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. Anyway I've finished the first draft (it topped out at 88k words) and will be unlocking each post as I edit..

read from the beginning here

Days 13 and 14 here (combined due to work being murder on my word count and not wanting to make super short posts)

***

22. “Shh, just a little more…”

116. “Baby—shit—I don’t think I’m gonna make it to the bed like this.” (slightly modified for characterization purposes)

***

Tim stood next to him, but before Damian could reach for the faucets his attention was caught by that soft spot just beneath his jaw again. He raised up on tiptoe to kiss it. Damian made a tiny surprised sound and gripped his waist, and the vibration of his voice against Tim's lips made him smile into the stubble-roughened skin. He kissed the same spot again, for good measure, bracing himself against Damian's chest for balance as weariness made him sway the smallest bit. His brain was going hazy, which always felt a little weird and led to him doing equally weird things, but he couldn't make himself care right now. Not with Damian's hands holding him steady and his powerful body providing the support he needed.

He lowered down to stand normally again and kissed his way across Damian's chest, licking the water beaded there as he went. Damian widened his stance like he needed to keep his balance, which brought him low enough for their cocks to brush together. They shivered at the sensation, and Damian grasped them both to stroke together. Normally, Tim would've been fascinated to watch the contrasts between them, but right now all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut, press his face into Damian's sternum, and try to keep his knees from collapsing under him. That melting feeling was spreading outward from his belly, flowing through his veins all the way to his fingertips. He was going to dissolve into a sexed-out puddle.

He shook with laughter at the mental image, and Damian froze. "Is something wrong?"

Remorse shooting through the amusement, Tim tilted back to look at him. "No, not at all. I just pictured myself turning into a puddle and you having to mop me up and wring me out into a bucket. Sorry, I get kind of strange when I'm this sleep-deprived, but it's not because you're doing anything wrong--you're doing everything right." He wrapped one of his hands around Damian's and started its motion on their erections once more. "Don't stop. It feels so good."

Damian's shoulders lowered as he relaxed again. His attention refocused, Tim groaned as Damian's grip tightened around them both. Expression avid, Damian ducked to urge Tim's head back to a more convenient angle with a kiss. Tim let his eyes fall shut again and parted his lips to Damian's silent urging. Damian kissed him like he was starving for it, like he'd die without his mouth. Tim had been on the receiving end of plenty of kisses, but he'd never before felt like the other person needed him.

Because that was . . . bad. It was bad, right? He couldn't make his brain dig up the information but he was pretty sure it was bad to need someone you were kissing. It seemed like it should be wrong, anyway.

His body didn't know it was bad. In fact, his body was lit up inside with lust like a bonfire, and he couldn't seem to keep himself from nipping at Damian's lips and licking past his teeth. "Dami--" he moaned. Damian made a desperate noise in response and pulled Tim so close his hand almost couldn't move between them. "Shit--I don't think I'm gonna make it to the bed like this."

"That won't do," Damian murmured against his lips. "I haven't got my fingers inside you yet."

Before Tim could reply (with something along the lines of fuck it, we can do it again after I come and you can finger my brains out then because he was currently a sex-crazed idiot with zero self control), the sound of the water in the pipes changed. He stiffened in recognition. "Oh, hell. Damian, we need to--" The water went freezing cold and he cut himself off with a noise he would deny under oath was a shriek. Not even all his financial resources could get him a hot water heater big enough to fully protect against Gotham winter.

Damian breathed out a laugh and reached past him to twist the faucet knobs to "off." "That's one way to incentivize the journey back to bed." He opened the doors, grabbing a towel from the heated rack and wrapping it around Tim's shoulders before getting one for himself. When he was completely dry except for his hair, he glanced up. Tim had gotten lost in watching one rogue bead of water trickle down from Damian's collarbone to his Adonis belt and was still standing in the same position, holding his towel like Superman's cape and swaying slightly.

"Tt." Damian hung his towel up again and reached for Tim's. "You are clearly compromised. Let me help." He began drying Tim's hair with brisk efficiency that was still gentle for all its speed. "For such a brilliant man you really can show a baffling level of incompetence with self-care. I have often thought you are Father's true heir in that, if nothing else." He began moving the towel down to the rest of Tim's body with careful brushes over his neck, shoulders and chest.

"Don't be mean," Tim grumbled. He held out his arms at Damian's silent urging to let him dry each of them in turn. "I don't want mean Damian, I want the Damian who fucks me till my brains ooze out of my ears. Can I have that one instead?"

"You may have him as soon as I finish drying you off." Damian ducked to dry Tim's calves, and kissed his half-flagged erection while he was down there. Tim whimpered in response. "Ssh, just a little more. Lift your feet and we'll be ready to go back."

Tim couldn't restrain his smile as Damian straightened again. "Thanks. I could've done it myself."

"Of course you could have." Damian hung Tim's towel. "Let's get you to bed. I've promised you an orgasm and I have yet to deliver."

Tim didn't strictly need Damian's offered arm to keep his balance, but he leaned into it all the same as they left the bathroom. He was still cold, and Damian was always a human furnace.

days 16 & 17 here (once again combined due to work being murder on my word count and not wanting to make super short posts)

[squishneedsahero]

Motherly Instinct

Awesomest of Them All 2.0 | One-Shots

Part 8.5 of 13

Word Count: 1541

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a bonus part that I’ve just thrown in cause I felt like it and I have other ideas for the series <3

Some shit had been going down with the Justice League, you had no idea what exactly it was but you hadn't seen your husband in at least a week. Needless to say you were tired of not seeing him and your two sons. So, you decided to do something about it. Something you hadn't done before now.

You walk down to the cave, after warning Alfred you were leaving, and find the suit Bruce had gotten made for you in case of an emergency. For you this qualified as an emergency. You put the mask over your eyes and prepare to head up to the watchtower. One way or another you're going to drag your family home for some rest.

Bruce didn't trust every member of the League to know who he was even if he trusted them to protect the world. It was a bit paranoid but you'd deal with it and wear the mask if it meant you could drag him home. You step up to the teleport and announce the number you were assigned then step in and when you step out you're in space.

Not exactly in space but being in the watchtower was close enough. You take a look around, seeing no one you recognize you approach someone in a green suit and ask, "excuse me, do you know where I could find Batman?"

"Of course I do beautiful, I'll show you the way," the man says, obviously he's a flirt. "The names Hal by the way, and I can call you?"

You decide to bs something on the spot, and say, "just call me SH/N." From there you follow alongside him as he leads you to wherever it is Bruce is located.

"So, why are you looking for the grumpy bat? You know he's quite boring, I'm sure the two of us could have much more fun."

He clearly has no idea who you are and you can only hope this walk won't be long. You go ahead and have a little fun with your response anyways, "yeah? What makes you so sure about that?"

"Well, he's Batman, all dark and brooding I've never seen the guy smile. Just don't tell him I told you that," Hal responds.

You can't help but laugh, "of course I'd never tell him that."

Hal opens up a door and waves his arm, letting you in. "Hey Bats, this beauty is looking for you, though why she's here to see you I have no idea."

Bruce had been standing there talking with Clark and Diana about something. He doesn't respond in any way to the sight of you besides a slight nod, but you can tell that Hal's flirting has already hit a nerve. You let the slightest smirk cross your lips and you pat Hal's arm saying, "thank you for the help," before walking across the room to your husband.

First thing you do is kiss his cheek and say, "hello love." You tilt your head and cast a side glance at Hal, seeing the color somewhat drain from his face. You wrap your arms around Bruce's neck.

His arms come to rest around your waist as the door closes behind Hal as he leaves. "What are you doing here dear?"

"I haven't seen you in over a week so I'm here to drag you home." You let go of him long enough to take the mask off since it was already bothering you, "also don't kill Hal I think I scared him enough," you laugh.

Bruce sighs, "I can't come home there's... a situation we need to figure out first."

You roll your eyes, "okay, what is the situation because I'm not going home until you and the boys can come home with me." You can tell that Bruce is just goi g to argue so you turn to Diana and ask, "what's going on?"

Diana quickly explains that a clone of Clark, a teenager, had been found and they were trying to figure out what to do with him. The fact that they were still trying to figure it out told you more than enough and you turn to face Clark.

"So, should I ask why it is you aren't taking him in?"

"He was created by Luther and is most likely a threat," Clark states simply.

"So?" You ask. "He's a kid." Clark doesn't have a good answer to that so you turn back and look at Bruce for a moment. "You go get the boys and tell them it's time to go home?"

Bruce agrees to go find Dick and Tim, taking Diana with him and leaving you there with Clark. "Hey, y/n, with Lois and Jon I can't risk their safety by bringing a  strange clone into my house." The large alien tries to defend himself.

"That's not a good enough reason. It's understandable but not a good reason. You're there and can protect your family if anything goes wrong, this boy is a child who was probably raised in a lab. Abandoning him is the stupidest idea I've heard in a long time," you cross your arms.

Somehow Clark found you scarier than Bruce was. No wonder Bruce didn't argue when you told him to go find your kids. He once again doesn't have a good answer. "So, you don't have a good response so that usually means I am right. You should talk to Lois about this before deciding anything but for now I'm going to have the kid come stay with us."

The two of you stand in an awkward silence as you wait for Bruce to come back since you don't know how to get back to where you'd started. When they finally come you put your arms around your boys and press a kiss to the top of each of their heads, "we have one more thing before we can go."

You look at your husband and the boys look between the two of you. You smile at them, "we're going to have someone staying with us for the foreseeable future." They all understand what you're saying and go get the superboy and you take him home to the mansion with you.

Once you're home you send everyone to bed and you take care of the boy. You introduce yourself to him and ask if he has a name.

"A- name?" He asks with a pause, obviously thinking about it.

"It's alright if you don't have one, we can come up with something for you." You offer him a kind smile. "So, here's the deal, I'm going to take you upstairs and give you a room to stay in rather than leaving you down here because my husband is paranoid. You'll get to see who we are and in return you'll eat some food and get some sleep, alright?"

"Okay," he says with a little hesitation before you lead him upstairs. You take him to the kitchen where the two of you get some food, quickly being caught by the rest of your family.

Bruce gives you a look upon seeing that you'd brought him upstairs, which you return but just say, "hello Love, he's going to be staying with us so I brought him upstairs to get some food. I figured he can stay in a spare bedroom because we have plenty of room."

Bruce nods slightly, "alright." He looks between you, Alfred, Dick and Tim before turning back to the boy, "so, I'm afraid I forgot to ask your name," he says, putting up with you and your mom instinct.

You jump in, saving the kid from another awkward answer and say, "we were just thinking about a name he'd like. Maybe all of you could help us come up with some ideas."

Alfred makes sure everyone is fed and you try to make sure the kid feels welcomed. He's a little awkward and doesn't talk much but he's polite, eventually you fin a name he likes, Kon-El, and then if needed he could go by Conner. You make sure that he gets to bed before going to face your husband.

You sit on the bed next to him, and face him, "okay, go ahead, let me hear it for letting him in our house."

He sighs and shakes his head slightly, "it was reckless to just let him in and see who we are." He puts his arms around you and pulls you to him, "I love you, and can't exactly be mad at you for making the call on this one when I've done it the other times." He presses a kiss to your temple, "I trust you and your instincts, so it will be fine no matter what happens."

You lean into his chest and smile softly, "thank you, I love you." You tilt your head to press a kiss to his jaw, "he needs someone to take care of him, I don't care where he came from but I'm going to make sure he has a home."

Bruce presses another kiss to your head and pulls you onto the bed with him, tucking the both of you into the covers and holding you tightly to him as he finally gets some reset.

[mossy-rainfrog]

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Martin and Jon in season 1 of the Magnus Archives. Martin is seen out in the archives hallway, through the doorway to Jon’s office. Martin a fat Black man with short coily hair, round glasses, and snake bite lip piercings. He wears a blue sweater over a white collared shirt, and carries a brown satchel with him. Martin is looking over his shoulder with interest as he walks into work, and in a smaller panel to the side, we see Jon watching him with wide eyes. Jon is a thin Persian person with long greying hair tied back in a low bun, and rectangular glasses. He wears a red button down underneath a brown jacket, and is seated at the desk in his office. He stares out at Martin, looking flustered. There are small lines by Martin’s mouth indicating the piercings, and there are exclamation marks by Jon’s head indicating his reaction. End ID.]

I found an old fic in my notes about Martin dressing alt/punk outside of work and accidentally leaving on a small indicator of his usual fashion when he comes into the archives and I just. had to bring it back. Also, because I am still fond of it, please enjoy the aforementioned fic🥰:

Jon is having a difficult morning, to say the least. He had believed that coming into work an entire hour early would provide him with ample time to get a head start on today’s organizing, but that has decidedly not been case. He’s already had to take the statements of two utterly ridiculous liars who could barely keep the grins off of their faces as they recounted their ludicrous tale, and then listen to Elias subsequently dress down his so-called ‘attitude towards patrons’ for nearly half an hour, and suffice it to say, he would really like to get started on something that is actually worth his time.

He dislikes settling down with the more... difficult statements before all of his colleagues arrive, an attempt to keep them from interrupting his recordings to greet him, so once he’s finished his other menial tasks, he finds himself simply sitting and waiting for the ensemble of his assistants to arrive.

Tim and Sasha are the first - entering together as usual after having stopped for coffee on the way in - but Martin is slow to follow, taking nearly another fifteen minutes to arrive. It’s nearly ten past seven at that point, and once Jon hears Martin’s steps coming towards his office, he has half a mind to give the man yet another lecture on punctuality and work ethic. He gets as far enough as bracing his hands on the table to stand up, and then Martin appears in the doorway to his office, and he realizes something strikingly different about his appearance.

That is to say, Jon’s whole world narrows down very suddenly to the little black studs decorating the space underneath his bottom lip.

He’s staring, he knows he is, but Martin is busy looking down the hall for the moment, so Jon doesn’t force himself to tear his eyes away just yet. How long has he had his lip pierced, Jon wonders? Has it been there the whole time he’s known him? Has he only recently gotten it done? How? Why?

It’s hard to imagine Martin - soft, unassuming Martin who is far too large for the amount of space he crams himself into, always slouching, always pulling himself inwards as if he can make himself disappear - dressing in any way other than soft sweaters and slacks, but if Jon’s honest, he’s never actually seen the man outside of work. He has no idea how Martin chooses to dress himself when out from under the Institute’s rigid dress code, and this tiny window he’s been provided with is making him maddeningly curious.

He’s not... he doesn’t have feelings for Martin, aside from a general annoyance, occasionally marked with curiosity. He’s a professional, for God’s sake, not to mention that Martin’s very existence as a given is like a grain of sand in his eye, rubbing and irritating. Now he cuts clean through without even noticing. Jon itches to know more.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice tears him from his thoughts. “Is something wrong?”

Oh, shit. Jon can feel his gaze heat up as if he’s done something horribly wrong - how embarrassing that he can’t even keep a blush off of his face - but he still forces himself to open his mouth and stutter out an excuse. He means to remark on one of Martin’s missing reports, or the fact that he’s coming in nine minutes late, but what ends up leaving his mouth is; “Your lip is pierced.”

Just a sentence, not a question. He thinks he’s positively beet red. Martin freezes, the tips of his ears darkening visibly against his brown skin as his hand shoots to his mouth and his eyes widen.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I must have forgotten to take them out,” the poor man looks like he’s about to panic as he whips his gaze around as if to see if anyone else has noticed. “Don’t tell Elias, please, I’ve seen how he gets after Tim for the dress code, and there is no way, I mean no way—”

“Oh, n-no, it’s- I- it’s fine, really,” Jon raises his hands in defense as Martin rambles, for some reason inclined to reassure the man. “I won’t- I’m not- I’m not going to tell him.”

Martin hesitates, wringing his hands, apologies visible on every pore of his face. “I- Thank you. I’ll- I’ll go take it off. Christ, that’s embarrassing.”

“Only if you want,” Jon shrugs, which is definitely not the correct thing for him to say as a boss, and it definitely comes out a little gentler than he intends it to, and Jon is three seconds from screaming if he can’t figure out how to make himself react normally to this. It’s a non-traditional piercing in an academic institute of research; it’s against the rules, however dated they may be, and further than that, there is no reason for it to completely undo his composure the way that it has. He tries to get a hold of himself. “I-I mean, that’s likely for the best.”

Martin is giving him a funny look - probably a response to seeing the whole spectrum of human emotions flash across Jon’s face in a millisecond - but he still nods and says: “Sorry again. Thank you,” and then disappears down the corridor.

Jon immediately buries his face in his hands and sighs.

What is wrong with him? For God’s sake, he’s just seen Martin with a lip piercing, it’s not like he’s witnessed the man undressed. Besides, he works in an archive where he has to read statements about the intricacies of monsters that rip off people’s skin and suchlike every day, he should know how to keep his composure better than this. He should just move on with his day and focus without a problem, just like he does every morning.

Except, his mind keeps wandering back to it; the way the little studs had followed the shape of his mouth, the way they had quirked up when he flashed one of his nervous smiles, the way Jon is still desperately curious about what brought him to get them done, and also what it might feel like to brush a thumb, or perhaps even his lips over them.

Jon sits up so fast his head actually smacks against an open filing cabinet behind him. His mind is too busy reeling to notice the ache that fills his head, and he stares straight ahead with wide eyes and utterly scorching cheeks. Absolutely not. He absolutely did not just think about kissing Martin Blackwood. that was- that would be...

He blinks hard, clears his throat. It doesn’t matter what that was. He’s decidedly not interested in Martin Blackwood romantically, or in any other capacity given his truly ridiculous academic competence and his obnoxious habit of interrupting seemingly every stable thing Jon has in his life. He crushes the feeling down hard, locks it up in a box, stuffs it down under his lowest two ribs, and resolves himself never to open it again.

He is not going to keep thinking about this all day. He has work to do, and if something as simple as a pair of metal studs can distract him this badly, then he needs to make absolutely certain it doesn’t happen again.

He tells himself he’s not disappointed when he sees Martin without the piercings later that day.

[27emailsicantsend]

what do you think will be the conflict for rina in s4? i honestly think it will be a fresh take on a conflict we haven’t seen before. or at least hopefully i really don’t want anyone coming in between them (especially bc i’m sorry but i cant imagine either of them even beginning to give someone else the time of day) but maybe there’s a chance there will be a true sharpay character? like in the way “i want troy (ricky)” way? kinda like a hsm2 plot in a way idk if that makes sense i’m just kinda gearing up for someone to try to come in between them. but anyways i think and hope it’ll be a new conflict we haven’t seen in the show before. and they’ll make it out stronger. however i feel like if they get a s5 then the conflict will be ricky graduating. i’ve always loved this conflict. my prediction for that is it does result in a breakup in s5 but they get back together by the end.

Thank you for this question, anon! I think a lot of people are nervous for the conflict because they worry that it will be a repeat of what we’ve seen before. As we’ve seen from Tim’s interviews, he knows the rinas have been through the absolute trenches. He called the kiss a “small win”. Not because there is more hardship to come, but because I think this is small in comparison to some of the other wins we’re going to see. Also from Tim’s interviews, I’ve seen time and time again it’s imperative we pay attention to what happened in the doc. That’s how we’re going to know what the characters trials are. Without prompting, Tim brought up Jet’s crush on kourtney a couple of times (this seems like something he finds a really big deal and will be focused on quite a bit).

Because the doc was a lot about ricky and gina finally getting together, it wouldn’t make sense for another triangle. Not to mention, the triangles were more so that we could see ricky and gina do better with each other than their “next best options”. To me, it makes more sense that we’re going to see actual couple struggles.*knock on wood* I think tim wants us to have rina together as our “big win”. I don’t think he is going to throw this ship in the flames more than it already has been. I think it will be more normal and healthy with some typical ups and downs (kind of like redlyn s2).

I also agree that ricky graduating seems like a logical conflict. Tim described s4 as “now or never”, because he understands this could be their last season. As much as he wants the show to go on, unfortunately tv execs have the largest say at the end of the day and do really, scummy things regardless of the direction the show is going or could go (girl meets world RIP). So I think he wants to tie loose ends if he can. Where it’s Ricky’s senior year, ricky making plans for post graduating seems pretty logical to me this season. ESPECIALLY because it would make less sense for him to figure it out next season. He hates change, so planning something out in advance seems like him. He might put it off a little because he’s scared of the change, but I think ultimately he would embrace decision making. What wouldn’t be like him it waiting until his last semester of high school to make a decision on a college (my ADHD brain did the exact opposite and I waited until like two weeks before a decision had to be made and then made one 🙃).

TL;DR: I think ricky is going to try and make a graduation plan and overdo the stress of planning because it’s in his nature to prepare as much as possible (so it feels like the least amount of unexpected change). I think gina is, once again, going to provide that polarity for him and be a sounding board for his stress. She’ll probably try to remind him that even if they end up not together after graduation, it doesn’t mean they won’t have a future together. She might even try and give him resources that keep him close to home, but she will help him embrace the inevitable change. I think ricky has been getting a lot better at eventually embracing change, but now he’s getting the real test: can he embrace a world of change- completely on his own- as an adult? We’ve seen him overcome the stress of dealing with the things changing around him (things out of his control, his parents divorce, Nini going to Denver and pulling away, etc.), but what about the things happening to him (things within his control, like where he goes to college). Sometimes it’s easier to be mad at and get over the things out of our control, because that’s all they are at the end of the day: the things that come and go. It’s the decisions that we proactively make to create change that can be the hardest, because we have to be fully responsible for them. It might make someone want to… Scream? 😉

[americancowgirl19]

Eight Year

Summary: You’ve been missing for a long time but now you’re home and Dick isn’t about to let you distance yourself from him.

Warnings: Angst Fluff

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count:

A/n: Act like Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian all grew up under the same roof with you for this one shot. Damian is still the only one that is Bruce’s biological child though.

Masterlist - Part Two (Old Times)

If anyone asked where the best place in the Wayne Manor was, you’d tell them about the rooftop. You had to be extremely balanced and brave (or stupid) to be able to get to the peak. But once you got there, it would be the perfect place to see all of Gotham. If the wind was blowing right and you strained your ears to listen, you could even hear the hustle and bustle of the city despite being so far away. 

But that was when you were growing up. Everything’s different now. The roof was still an amazing place to be but it no longer held the peacefulness you craved as a child. Still, it was better than being in the middle of the family arguments occurring below you. Even then, you can’t completely escape it.

“I figured I’d find you up here,” 

You don’t even have to turn your head to know who was walking across the roof toward you with expert balance. The roof put distance between you and your other brothers except Dick. While they didn’t mind jumping from one building to another with Batman, the roof of Wayne manor was different. You had claimed it as your own and raised hell if anyone bothered you. Anyone other than Dick at least. You always had a soft spot for him.

“Shouldn’t you be in Bludhaven?” You ask, averting your gaze from the skyline of Gotham to the slanted shingles on the roof.

“Well, when you see on the news that Y/n Y/l/n came home for the first time in eight years you make a special trip,” Dick says, sitting in the spot he had claimed 15 years ago.

“You shouldn’t have wasted your time,” You mutter.

“Hey,” He lightly scolds. “You’re not a waste of time,” He tells you, his voice a little softer. You risk a glance at him. He gives you a small smile. You force one in return before looking down as it fades.

“Did I ever... hurt you?” You ask, your jaw clenching the instant the question is out in an attempt to hold yourself together.

“Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself.” Dick states, shaking his head. “Nothing you did was you,”

“But it was, Dick.” You snap, looking at him. “Every kill, every fight, every injury was because of me. I was the one who did that, no one else.”

“Do you even remember what happened?” Dick asks, raising his eyebrows at you. “Remember what they forced you to do?” You hold his gaze before looking down. “It wasn’t you fault,” Dick says slowly trying to emphasize his point. “You didn’t have control over yourself, you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I hate that I can’t remember,” You whisper. “Eight years of my life and nothing. All I remember is going to that party with you,” A small smile came onto your lips. “I convinced you to dance with me,”

“We danced all night,” Dick whispers, a smile of his own on his lips. It only lasts a few seconds before it fades. “I leave you for two minutes and you just... disappear,” You frown your eyebrows not liking the sound of his voice.

“You blame yourself? Dick...” You whisper, your shoulder deflating.

“We look after each other,” He says, looking at you. “It’s what we do. You have my back and I have yours, always. But the one time you actually need me and I’m in the kitchen doing a beer bong.” He growls, glaring at his fidgeting hands.

You push back the tears as your arms wrap around his arm. You hug his bicep and rest your head on his shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath and kisses the top of your head.

“I missed you so goddamn much,” Dick whispers, leaning against you. His head leaning on yours, his nose buried in your hair. Your eyes closed as you focus on him. You ignore the tear falling down your face.

Eight years ago you had been kidnapped by a group that you have no recollection of. They had you under their complete control. Not only did they kidnap you and turn your mind into mush, they experimented on you. They wanted to make you strong enough, powerful enough to be able to take down the Justice League and everyone associated with them.

They succeeded, sort of. While you couldn’t take down the entire Justice League, you were considerably stronger than you had been. They had a serum that changed your DNA. You had the enhancement and strength of Superman, the speed of Flash, and the power of Zatanna.

Bruce had an entire file on you. He had recordings of the experiments you went through that your captors had taken and notes on everything you did. One night when everyone was asleep or out patrolling the city, you looked through the file.

You don’t remember it but you had been the reason behind so many deaths. So many good people, sidekicks and full fledged League members fell by your hand. You didn’t know how you could show your face around anybody knowing what you had done.

You felt touched that your family had spent the last eight years searching for you and trying to find a way to get you back. Even after everything you had done, they never gave up on you. They wanted you back, they wanted to help you become yourself again.

Yes, you’re home now. Yes, you’re in control of your actions now. No, you don’t feel like you’re back to yourself again. Not even close.

Before you were kidnapped, you were the original Batgirl. You and Dick had been trained at the same time. You both took up the mantle as Batman’s sidekick at the same time. You did everything together.

So, when Dick transitioned to Nightwing you hung up your cape to become Nightshade. You both thought it was clever with a side of corny at the time which is the exact reason why you took a name so similar to his. Since you were no longer Batman’s sidekicks, you had free range to become your own persons. 

With Jason as Batman’s new Robin, Gotham was becoming crowded. Dick suggested Bludhaven and you followed him. You were there for three years before you were taken. Your absence happened a month before Jason’s death.

You family had no idea how they survived two tragedies so close to each other. 

Almost a year later a mysterious assassin emerges out of nowhere. It took them a while to figure out that it was you. When your identity was revealed, the decision on what to do with you split the League. 

Half the League wanted to get revenge for what you had done by death or isolation in an inescapable prison off world. The other half wanted to save and rehabilitate you. 

Batman, Nightwing, and Robin (Tim) were strong advocates of saving you. In fact it had been brought up more than once that if anyone tried to kill you or take you off world they would have to personally deal with them, mainly Dick.

Dick had just found out that you were alive, he had hoped that you were but now he knew. Now that he knew you were alive, no matter what you did, he was going to get you back and damn anybody who got in his way.

They knew off the bat that you weren’t in control of your actions thus making you innocent in their eyes. But not everybody believed you to be innocent. But as Dick told anybody who lobbied against you, nobody was killing you or taking you away while he was around.

It wasn’t until Red Hood’s identity was revealed as Jason did they finally have a chance at bringing you home. Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin (Dick), Damian (a couple of months before he would take up the Robin suit), and Superboy all went up against you one night.

This wasn’t the first time Nightwing, Robin and Damian had tried to get you but with Red Hood and Superboy on their side they became victorious. Red Hood gave them that extra person while Superboy was more equipped to handle your speed and strength.

You were taken to the watchtower. You stayed there for a long time and weren’t allowed to socialize until you had control of your mind back. About a week ago you were released to Batman. 

A couple of days ago the media caught word that Bruce Wayne’s long lost daughter has finally returned home which prompted Dick to come back to Gotham.

But while you are home with your family you can’t help but feel like an outsider. Since you’re return you feel as if there’s this wall between you and them. Bruce wasn’t completely sure how to act around you. Tim tried but you just couldn’t connect with him. Even Damian, the all confident biological kid of Bruce Wayne, felt awkward around you despite his relief that you were home. You haven’t seen Jason since you returned home but since your arrival to Gotham has been broadcasted you knew it wouldn’t be long until you two met up.

“I’m glad you’re here,” You whisper, snuggling into him more. 

“Where else would I be?” He mutters. You look up, your eyes meeting his. “My place will always be by your side,” He reassures you.

“Dick... I’m not the same person I was, ok?” You whisper. “I’m still adjusting and-” Dick’s lips meet yours before you can finish. You lean into him, your hand touching the side of his face.

“You’re it for me, pretty girl,” Dick whispers, smiling softly. “You’ve been mine since we were kids and I’m not giving you up just because you’re stronger, faster and weirder than me now,” He winks at you. You smile widely and laugh quietly.

“I thought after eight years-”

“No,” Dick whispers, shaking his head. “It’ll only ever be you, sweetheart. Only you,” You smile, snuggling into him.

“Master Grayson, Ms. Y/l/n,” Alfred hollers from the ground. You both look down. “Dinner is served,”

“Thank you, Alfred,” You replied loud enough for him to hear. Alfred nods and reenters the house. You sigh looking at Dick.

“Come on, you know how Alfred gets if he has to say things twice,” Dick says standing up. You take his hand and he pulls you to him. “You and me, just like it has been since we were 12. That hasn’t changed,” You grin, balancing yourself carefully as you drape your arms around his neck.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly kissing you when we were 12,” Dick smirks, holding your hips.

“Relationships evolve,” He shrugs. You smile, staring into his eyes.

“You make the world quiet, Dick Grayson.” You whisper to him. “You keep my mind straight,”

“You do that yourself... I just remind you to smile and relax very so often,” He tells you.

“I love you,” You whisper, pressing your lips against his.

[consumeconstantly]

A Discowing at the Wayne Gala

Summary: Getting Jason to go to the Wayne Gala each year was more difficult than putting the Joker away in Arkham; he insisted the part was full of pretentious, rich social climbers who were horribly boring. As it turned out, all he really needed to persuade him was an upset, drunk girl rambling about how much she was going to deck her highschool enemies there to convince himself that he’d be in for a great show. (AKA the extremely chaotic and nonsensical salt/crack fic)

____________________________________________________

“I, Mar--” she hiccupped, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng solemnly swear to rip Lila a new one with Discowing’s godawful costume.”

“You say it girl!” called some random person from across the bar. 

“I will--” another hiccup “--use Batman’s Batmobile to run over Kim. And slam Red Hood’s ugly ass helmet onto Adrien’s stupid face.”

“Better yet,” Marinette pounded the table, “I will use their stupid utility belts to dismantle Gabriel’s empire. Somebody give me a yeah!”

“Yeah!”

All in all, the sight wasn’t that atypical for a bar in Gotham, if it weren’t for the fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was barely five feet, wore pigtails, and knocked five men on their asses when they tried to approach her. 

“Take that, Hawkass,” she hissed. “Think you can pull a fast one on me when I’m drunk, do you? Well I’ve got news for you!”

Her words slurred together, and she leaned on the bar for support. “When I get my way, you’re going to be tied up into a pretzel and dumped into a volcano, then the tundra and then we’ll see how you like your stupid little jewlery touched.”

“Dupain-Cheng,” her blonde companion hissed. “Get yourself together. We don’t need another one of your breakdowns now. You know we’re going to be busy tomorrow night, and I don’t want to deal with you completely hung over all throughout the gala.”

“Aww,” Marinette squished her cheek onto Chloe’s “You know you love me.”

“Yes, yes, but I’m not going to tolerate this bullshit. If you want to make good on your plans, you need to be in tip top shape.”

“Ughhhh, why are they even invited to the stupid gala? It’s not even like they’re rich! Oh wait, I guess they are…” Marinette pressed her face to the bar, which was undoubtedly dirty. She reveled in it’s coolness, brushing her bangs out of her face. “And why do you have to be right? I guess I have to stop drinking if I want to make any of my plans work.”

“Your plans will work, hungover or not. It’s just a question of how much you’ll be able to enjoy them. I don’t want you complaining for months after the fact that you don’t remember half of what happened.”

“I guess you’re right. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and I'm feeling a little too warm to ice them out.” Staggering, Marinette got to her feet. “Call an Uber?”

“It’s already here.”

#

“What made you change your mind?” Tim frowned at Jason, doubtful that he wasn’t going to cop out at the last second. He was sure that he was only putting on his suit as some sort of deliberate ploy to get out of the Gala. Truthfully, it wasn’t required that all of them attend the Gala, but it was one of the few events that brought together most of the Wayne family.

Jason ran a hand through his hair and smirked. “Let’s just say I’m expecting quite the show.”

#

Jason kept a hawkish gaze on the entrance, waiting for the appearance of one short, pigtailed girl, and a taller blonde. They arrived almost forty five minutes into the Gala, which was good timing; not late enough to be considered rude, but most people have already arrived and have made their rounds.

Marinette looked different out of the dim lighting of the bar, and even though she definitely looks like she’s nursing a light hangover, she still managed to look stunning. With a matte-black floor length dress that attracted all light in the vicinity towards it, it’s hard not to look her way; Tim, for one, stared at the outfits that Marinette and her companion are wearing with stars in his eyes. Any moment now, he’s going to approach them. Or he would if he weren’t on Jason-sitting duty.

“I’ll play nice,” Jason promised.

“You? Nice?” Tim sounded incredulous, and it’s not like he can fault him. Whenever Jason did successfully get roped into coming to the Gala, it’s a sure thing that he gets at least one fist fight started, if not an everyone for themselves sort of situation. 

“They’re the reason I decided to come. It’s not me you have to be worried about.”

Tim groaned. “Really? They’re trouble makers? But they’re wearing MDC!”

Jason chuckled, slipping a hand into his pants pocket. Tim was weirdly obsessed with the highly secretive French designer. Nobody ever saw them in person. “Wearing your fashion icon doesn’t mean they can’t kick ass.”

Tim rocked back on his heels, looking at the two girls calculatively. “That’s right. If anything, they’re more likely to kick ass, because that’s the kind of confidence that MDC inspires in their designs. Well, if you’re not going to fight them, I’m going to introduce myself.”

“And I can’t leave my little brother alone.” Jason said, watching the blonde girl point in the direction of, if he wasn’t mistaken, Gabriel Agreste’s son and his plus one.

Who knew that doing a preliminary reading of the guests would be so informative? He could only guess what kind of beef Marinette had with Agreste Jr.--Bruce had enough problems with Gabriel; even though Wayne Enterprises only dabbled in fashion, Gabriel was a ruthless man when it came to his competitors, and tried to edge them out of the market multiple times. Foolish on his part, not taking into consideration that both Bruce and Tim were very, very stubborn people who only get more difficult to face when dealing with a challenge.

Wayne Enterprise might primarily be considered with R&D and technology companies, but underestimating the amount of influence Tim could gather when someone pissed him off was just a bad idea.

“Hi, I’m Tim--”

“--and it’s lovely to meet you, but we’re on a mission right now,” finished the blonde girl, who Jason was now 98% sure is Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of Paris’ mayor and Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois. “Dupain-Cheng, it’s your time to shine.”

“God,” Marinette muttered underneath her breath, ducking her head. “I can’t believe you’re holding me to what I said while drunk last night.”

“It’s not just what you said drunk last night, it’s the most effective way of dealing with that liar. She’ll be so embarrassed she’ll hide away forever. Maybe get some plastic surgery and change her name. Daddy will make sure she can never step foot in Paris again.” 

“Chloe,” Marinette groaned. “We all know how that panned out last time. Do you want a repeat performance?”

“By that time Hawkmoth will already be taken down. No need to worry about evil butterflies.”

“Evil butterflies?” Tim frowned. 

“We can fill you in later, Marinette has a car to steal.”

“Chloe!” 

“Oh stuff it, Dupain-Cheng, you’re no goody two shoes, even though you pretend to be one.”

Marinette whispers into Chloe’s ear, eyeing Jason and Tim. “Do you have to discuss that with other people around?”

“Well,” Chloe crossed her arms. “You boys aren’t going to rat us out, are you? They’re part of the infamous Wayne family. They’ll definitely be in.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You know they already reached out-- I can’t risk--” Marinette kept cutting herself off. “Fine, but if you-know-what falls through, I’m putting it all on you.”

“Like they’re going to pass you up just because of what’s going to go down at this gala. If anything, they’ll be glad to know that you’re as vicious as you are creative,” Chloe checked her nails and touched her hair, making sure it was in place.

“Sorry, what? I’m a little bit lost.”

“Keep up, Drake. I’m beginning to doubt your title as child-genius.You have the unique opportunity to watch history in the making.”

#

“Wait,” Tim’s jaw almost dropped at the display in front of him. “How did you even--”

“Trade secret. Marinette doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“But that’s the Batmobile.”

“Yeah, and?”

Jason laughed. He stole the hubcaps off the Batmobile, Marinette stole the whole thing. What a sight.

#

Here’s how the rest of the night went: Chloe plied Marinette with copious amounts of water, trying to get rid of her headache. Marinette hopped into the driver’s seat of the Batmobile (to which Chloe cackled, “And she doesn’t even have a driver’s license yet,” and Tim paled to the shade of freshly fired ceramic plate.) They ran over Kim, who, somehow managed to get into the event as a server of sorts, at which point Tim swore that the background checks would have to be upped again. Marinette landed the Batmobile in the middle of the gala, barely managing to avoid several innocents who were in her path. She reached into the convenient storage compartment that Jason was previously unaware of and pulled out the Discowing outfit and his helmet-- seriously, how did she get those?-- and slammed the car door.

Security, of course, was waiting for them. How couldn’t they, with that big of a disturbance? Half of the guests were up in a tizzy-- mostly the ones who were experiencing their first Wayne Gala-- and the other half were looking on, amused. Tim waved the guards off as Marinette made her way to Lila and Adrien, like a vengeful Valkyrie.

“You,” Marinette grimaced. “Chloe, say the words, I forgot them.”

“We decided that words were useless, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Marinette said, before promptly slamming Red Hood’s helmet onto Adrien’s head hard enough for him to fall to the ground, likely concussed. Lila, who started screeching and running away made for a surprisingly difficult target. Well, difficult in the fact that she was using other people as shields, but once she came across a group of Experienced Wayne Gala Goers, she got pushed out of her comfort zone.

In eight inch heels and with her hair down, Marinette stalked towards her prey. 

“Lila Rossi,” Marinette intoned. “Your sins will be judged.”

“What are you going to do, Marinette? You have no power here. We’re in America now. No Ladybug to back you up. No public opinion in your favor.”

Marinette shuddered. “Ugh, your voice makes me want to vomit. In any case, I sentence you to life in Discowing’s costume.”

“You can’t make me wear anything!”

Famous last words, Lila.

#

“I’m still so confused. What just happened?”

“Don’t worry,” Chloe gave Tim a pat on the back. “You’ll get used to this kind of thing if you end up hanging around Marinette more often.”

“I think I’m in love,” said Jason.

“Get in the back of the line. The only thing Marinette has time for now are her plans to take down Hawkmoth.”

“I’m not opposed to joining you. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” Jason paused. “By the way, has she already stolen the utility belts to take down Gabriel or does she need more? I’ve got contacts.”

 "Fair warning, everything in Paris is at least twenty times crazier than what you’ve seen here today.” Chloe swiped through a few notifications on her phone. “And please, do you think someone who hotwired the Batmobile needs your help getting her hands on a couple utility belts? If she really put her mind to it, she could get the Lasso of Truth from Wonder Woman.”

“Yeah, Jason, I’m definitely not going to join you on that trip.” Tim turned his attention towards Marinette, who was currently passed out on the hotel couch. “Anyways, You two are wearing MDC, right? I have a meeting with them tomorrow!”

Chloe looked at the poor boy with pity. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

________________________________________________

i’m really churning out these jasonette prompts like butter (god butter is so freaking good you ever eat butter straight? i do. heart attack city & the next paula dean) even tho i only thought about joining in right when july was ending but here we are 

[cuttoothed]

For day 1 of @aspecarchivesweek for the prompt “wish”. Someday I will write something that isn’t jmart, but that day is not today.

Ace Martin character exploration; Jon/Martin; some Martin/OMC

Warnings: internalized homophobia (brief); internalized aphobia (ongoing); reference to having sex while intoxicated; reference to having sex reluctantly (though not coerced); outing of ace character in their absence

*

Martin spends a long time wishing he was normal.

It starts when he’s fourteen. Well, no, it starts much earlier than that, but it’s when he’s fourteen that the nebulous muddle of feelings coalesces into something impossible to ignore. That’s when all the boys and girls in his class start making eyes at each other while pretending they aren’t; start talking about who they’d like to snog behind the bushes at the bottom of the sports field, and Martin feels something twist in his stomach when he realizes that the person he’d like to be behind the bushes with is Stephen Dowling, who has dark hair and blue eyes and snaps gum between his teeth all day long.

Martin never says anything about it, of course, tries not to even think about it, but he knows it’s not normal. As if he needed one more weird thing about him along with all his sick mum and his jacket that pulls tight across his shoulders, the seams fraying because he needs to get another year out of it before they spend money on a replacement. He keeps his head down and secretly believes that this part of his life will never be over.

*

Eventually, this part of his life is over.

He is nineteen and living in London in a cheap flatshare with three other people, he has a job at a real academic institution, and he has a boyfriend.

Ramesh is sweet and funny and has soft brown eyes with the longest eyelashes Martin’s ever seen. His heart flutters in his chest every time they’re together, his breath catching in his throat and spilling out as laughter. Martin feels normal, because this is London and nobody cares if he walks down the street with Ramesh’s hand in his, if he kisses his boyfriend in the queue for the chippie. It’s like a weight Martin never knew was there lifted off his chest and he can breathe properly for the first time in his life.

He and Ramesh go out for almost a month before they’re in Martin’s flat alone one night, all the others gone out, and Ramesh presses him down on the sofa and kisses him and crawls a hand inside Martin’s jeans. Martin feels hot and cold all at once, his stomach coiling sick and every muscle in his body tensing up for fight or flight. He pushes Ramesh away—too hard, too clumsy—and guilt courses through him at the hurt look in Ramesh’s soft eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Ramesh asks, and Martin can’t say, his heart pounding and his hand clenched painfully tight against the arm of the sofa.

“Sorry,” he’s able to say eventually. “I just, umm…”

“It’s all right,” says Ramesh, though he still looks hurt and confused and Martin has the feeling it’s not actually all right. “I probably surprised you. We can wait for next time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” says Martin, grateful at the reprieve. They sit on the sofa and watch a film instead, and Martin scarcely follows the plot as he tries to calm the adrenaline rushing through his veins, making him want to flinch every time Ramesh’s shoulder touches his.

Next time is the same. Martin apologizes again, and Ramesh says it’s all right again and then two days later breaks up with him.

“I just don’t think it’s working out,” he says, and Martin knows it really wasn’t all right after all.

*

Martin’s sick of wishing he was normal, and what is it they say: fake it ‘til you make it?

He gets drunk and takes home a man he doesn’t know and has sex. He scarcely remembers it the next day and he’s too hungover and miserable to try, but he’s proven to himself that he can have sex and that’s the important thing.

Having sex is normal. It’s what people in relationships do. Martin doesn’t know why he has the hang-ups he does, but he just needs to get over them and learn to relax a bit. Having a couple of drinks helps, he finds.

He has a few boyfriends here and there, and having sex really isn’t a problem. There are better things he could think of doing with his time, but it’s fine. There are even some nice things about it, like feeling close to someone. Intimate.

Eventually, he thinks, maybe he’ll stop feeling like he’s faking it.

*

It isn’t that he gives up on relationships. It’s just that there are so many expectations that Martin feels he always fails to live up to, so many rules that it seems like everyone but him instinctively knows. Trying feels like more hassle than it’s worth.

And then he gets transferred to the Archives and there is Jonathan Sims with his imperious glare and devastating voice and Martin is fourteen all over again watching Stephen Dowling snap his gum in Geography class.

“You really need to stop mooning,” Tim tells him. They’re at the Institute holiday party and they’re all a bit sloshed, and Martin can admit to himself that yes all right he was mooning a bit over Jon, who’s stood at the bar with his back to them, talking animatedly with Elias.

“I am not mooning,” he says, because there’s no reason he has to admit it to Tim as well. “I was just...contemplating.”

“Contemplating Jon’s arse,” Tim snorts, and then Sasha plonks down three shot glasses on the table in front of them and sits down in a rush.

“Who’s contemplating Jon’s arse?”

“Martin, of course.”

“I am not—” Martin begins to protest, but Sasha shushes him, pushing a shot into his hand. It smells of cinnamon and the liquid inside is bright red.

“Hopeless case,” sighs Tim, and drinks his shot. Sasha does the same and then gives Martin a sympathetic smile, her eyes a little bit unfocused.

“If it’s any consolation, Jon doesn’t shag anyone.”

“Sasha!” Tim scolds, and she suddenly seems to realize what she’s said, her eyes going wide.

“Shit,” she says. “Sorry, god, I shouldn’t have said anything. Martin, please pretend you never heard me say that.”

“Okay,” Martin promises but his brain is snagged on ‘Jon doesn’t shag anyone’, how she said it so easily, matter of fact, as if it wasn’t a big deal at all. He looks up at the bar where Jon is still standing with Elias, his slim hands gesturing as he talks.

“Drink your shot,” Tim tells him. “It’ll help you forget about Sasha’s big mouth.”

Martin drinks his shot, which is absolutely sickening, but he doesn’t forget.

*

There is one bed in Daisy’s safe house.

It’s evening when they arrive and Martin is exhausted, a bone deep weariness that might be from the travel or the fear or the fog that’s seeped under his skin. Jon looks tired too, dark circles under his eyes and now that Martin’s really looking at him for the first time in months, he’s amazed Jon hasn’t just shivered apart at the seams by now. He is filled with the desire to take Jon in his arms, as if he might hold the fragile pieces of him together, and he thinks that he could.

He saw Jon, in the Lonely, even if they haven’t talked about it since. Saw how Jon felt about him, so yes, Martin thinks he could put his arms around Jon and it would be welcome. He isn’t sure why he doesn’t, except that there’s a part of him that still feels like it’s trapped behind glass, abstracted and numb, and it keeps his arms by his sides while his heart yearns against his rib cage.

In the meantime, there is only one bed, and they both stand looking at it for a few moments, considering the implications and the fact that they have only just found each other again after months of absence.

“There’s enough room,” Jon says eventually, his voice soft and tired. Martin nods; there is enough room.

It’s cold, and they both climb under the covers in socks and tracksuit bottoms and long sleeved t-shirts, pile the thick feather duvet and two blankets over them. It feels like being cocooned, their combined body heat gradually warming the mattress, the slow even sound of Jon’s breathing warming something in Martin’s chest.

He’s here, he’s here with you. You’re here with him.

In the gentle dark they gravitate together, drawn close by the longing that’s suffused all their months apart. When Jon’s lips press gently against his, Martin thinks his heart might burst. He kisses back, and at last that trapped part of him breaks free and he lifts his arms to wrap around Jon, pulls him against his chest. Jon makes a soft, surprised sound and he breaks the kiss.

“Martin,” he says, careful the way he has been since he brought Martin back, as if a wrong word might shatter him. “I need to tell you, before this goes any further—”

“It’s okay,” Martin tells him. “I don’t want to have sex with you either.” It feels so good to be able to say it that Martin could cry or laugh or both.

“Oh,” says Jon, and then huffs a soft laugh. “Well that’s—that’s good, then.”

He kisses Martin again, and leans in against him, close and warm and filling every part of Martin’s awareness. Martin knows he left all hope of normal behind years ago, before worms and fog and evil circuses. But the fact that he gets to have this—just this, with the man he loves; no expectations and nothing to fake; and for the moment at least, no fear. This is far, far better than normal.

And Martin couldn’t wish for anything else.

[ellana-ravenwood]

Sick Day - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : It’s never fun to be sick. Duh. But when  you have loving parents there to take care of you, maybe it isn’t so bad ? Just short little snippets of the first time each Batkids fell ill in Wayne Manor, and how Bruce and his wife (you :D) dealt with it. 

Another “burst of the moment inspiration” story, just a little drabble. Promise I’ll post something more elaborate soon :), hope you’ll like it : 

My master list blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

(Thanks to that anon who mentioned the kids getting shots, that gave me with this an idea on how to start this fic :D. The original beginning was different, I think I like that one better hehe.)

"Mister Wayne, if you keep doing this, I'm not going to be able to give your son-Bruce for god's sake !"

Leslie Thompkins, for the first time in her long career, was about to lose her patience and give up on...giving a simple shot to a baby. 

She has seen worried parents before, of course. The one that clung to their child’s hand, or those who would cry because their little one was in pain…

Babies that young, who had to get vaccinated for the first time, never really experienced this sort of quick pain before. 

A lot of them would cry more out of surprise than because it really hurt. Oh and when the parents were extra worried, you could be sure the baby was even more likely to burst into tears, sensing his parents' distress.

Yes. doctor Thompkins gave shots to a LOT of babies, and saw a LOT of worried parents before…But never had she met someone quite like Bruce Wayne.

He always came to her when his kids were sick. He could go to a fancier office, or to one of those pricy fancy private hospitals. But no. 

No because, when it came to his kids’ health, there was no one he trusted more than Doctor Leslie Thompkins. 

So it was no surprise when he brought his youngest son, Thomas, to get his first shot ever. What was a surprise though, was his reaction.

"And now you know why I'm always the only one in the room when this happens."

You say, smiling apologetically to the doctor. But ah, at least your husband's reaction eased a little the tension in your body brought by the mere idea of your baby being hurt. 

Every single time Leslie got the syringe close to your little one, Bruce would reflexively grab her wrist and stop her from giving the shot to his son.

Ridiculous, really. 

But it seemed it was something he couldn't fight. 

He apologized the first time he did it, as Dr Thompskins smiled and said it was ok, rather amused. But then the second time, it was getting clear he didn't seem to quite control himself. At the third time Bruce was visibly sweating. Dr Thompkins finally snapped as she tried for a fourth and fifth time to give a shot to little Thomas (who, at barely 2 months old, was much too young to even understand what was happening, but by his little smiles it was clear he was happy every time his father would come into his vision).

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just…I thought I could do it, but I can't."

And oh. Oh it's adorable the way he turns to you, his eyes saying "I'm sorry" as he takes his son back in his arms and holds him against his chest. You weren’t sure if it was to comfort little Tommy, or if he was comforting himself. 

"I think I should just let you two handle this ?" He asks, unsure. He doesn’t want you to be mad or to think he’s abandoning you. 

"I think this is a good idea Bruce, yes."

You smile at him reassuringly. It’s fine. It was always fine. 

"I'm sorry, sorry I'm letting you do this alone once again. I just can't…"

"Oh it's ok my Broosh, I know you hate shots. I can handle it, and little buddy here sure can too."

Thomas coos happily as you pick him up delicately from his father's arms. Bruce resists a bit, before finally giving in and letting you take hold of the little one. 

He lays a hand on his son's head, looking fondly at him (of this look he only gives his children, of this pure look full of unconditional love, and a hint of “what did I do to deserve this sort of happiness ?”) and then sighs, press a soft kiss to your forehead, murmuring a last “I’m sorry, my love” and leaves the room. 

He feels a little ashamed to let you do this once again, but you've always been the strongest one out of the two. After all, you willingly decided to marry a man like him…

"Alright Mrs Wayne, ready ? And here we-oh not you too (Y/N) !"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry, I don't know what took over me, it was just a reflex too !"

You apologize, as you let go of the doctor's wrist…

Yeah, it was just a gut reaction to seeing a scary needle approaching your baby's thigh. In your line of um, nightly work, you came to be very wary, of syringes. You still remember vividly that time Tim got hit with one of Scarecrows’ needle, and how terrible this night had been...

"Ok ok, now is fine. Go. I'm ready. Go fast though, now. Now I’m not looking. Go. Go. Go."

Tears welling up in your eyes at the mere thought of this happening, you look away as you hold your son still (something he doesn't like as clearly shown by his little sound of protest, and as he starts to fuss about), and in one, two seconds…it's done. 

And not a peep from your son. 

He just stopped making any sound (he've always been rather vocal), his eyes went wide, and he made a face that looked like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to cry or not. Then there’s one more second, and Leslie had a soothing bandaid on his little leg, and you were holding him against your heart, and the pain was so fleeting and already gone, that he just gets over it quickly, feeling your love.

Calming down instantly, not noticing the tears in your eyes (thank god, or it’d be a sure way to make him weep too).

And so he doesn't cry. And everything is ok again.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it ?”

“Actually, it was.”

You say, barely holding your tears in, your son cooing in your arms 

“Um...I was talking to Thomas.” 

Leslie answers, amused. And just like that, you both burst into laughter.

After a few minutes of this uncontrollable fit of giggles, you thank Leslie for her help, and leave the room, joining your husband who had been walking back and forth in the waiting room, nervous. 

He comes immediately to you and Thomas, and as soon as the boy sees his dad he smiles widely and giggles. Bruce gives him a soft smile, before turning to you : 

“How was it ?” 

“For me ? Not great. For Tommy ? He didn’t even utter a sound. Our little guy is brave !” 

You kiss your son on his forehead, and he giggles and coos even more. There’s a short silence, before Bruce says : 

“I’m sorry...”

And then he takes you in his arms, sandwiching little Thomas who’s protesting a bit. Damn, his parents could be so clingy ! 

“It’s ok my Broosh, I already told you. It’s ok.” 

You sort of knew since you stepped into the doctor’s room that you’d end up being the one having to hold your boy anyway.

You knew oh too well how squeamish he was whenever HE had to get a shot done (and oh who would’ve thought the big bad bat hated getting shots so much uh ? You were pretty sure he would rather getting actually shot than take a tiny needle in his arm any day of the week...Alfred always had to fight with him to inject anesthesia when treating him for wounds). It was actually sort of a requirement, that you’d be next to him to give him your hand when he absolutely had to get a shot.

So understandably so, he always skipped on his children’s vaccins. He just couldn’t bear to see anyone he cared for to get that very things he hated so much, it just made him feel ill.

And you’ve always been fine with this. Since that very first day when you took Dick there...But Bruce always felt bad.

Because whenever you’d get out of the doctor’s office, you’d have fresh tears in your eyes, because you were just too pure for this world (is what Damian would say).

Dick always took advantage of this. He was never really scared of shots, and thought they didn’t really hurt...But oh, oh he would always cry a river of crocodile tears just so he’d get extra cuddles and ice cream.

And then, that cheeky little bugger passed that knowledge of “when we get shots, or we get sick, the parents literally let us do WHATEVER we want !” to his little siblings (you were actually pretty sure your kids would pass secret ways to manipulate you and Bruce along to their younger siblings and..you were oddly fine with it. You loved those kids too much to care, really).

This thought reminded you of that very first time Dick fell sick, shortly after you and Bruce officially adopted him. 

And how much you guys freaked out. 

It was both a pleasant, and terrible memory. 

And oh. Oh you already dreaded the day Thomas would have his first real fever...You still remembered how it happened, with all your other children. 

“What is it ?” Bruce asks, always knowing when something was on your mind. And so you say : “Nothing bad, this just reminds me of when Dick got sick for the first time while with us...”

A light of recognition ignited in Bruce’s eyes, he knew exactly what you were talking about. 

Bruce only had fond memories of when he was sick and his mom and dad would take care of him.

He thought they were the best, wether they’d hold a “barf-bucket” for him, or stay up all night because he was too feverish...

What he never realized though, is that having a sick child was actually absolutely terrifying ! Bruce often felt sick himself, when the kids were ill.....ah, but nothing ever beats those first time each of them got sick.

DICK 

Dick wasn't as young as Thomas, when he first came into your life. None of them were. But he was still a cute little bean, your baby. 

Eight years old, and oh so sweet and nice and cute and you could just squish his little cheeks all day (albeit from the few outburst of anger at times, but hey, he was but a child, every kid throw tantrum from times to times).

He had been living with you and Bruce in the Manor for the past six months, when you had your first fright, and realized that being a parent meant being worried about your kid's well being for the rest of your days

Dick was definitely a tiny kid when he came in your life. He was rather short, only having a growth spurt when he was around 14/15. Barbara Gordon used to tease him to no end about this, up until he finally caught up with her and ended up being taller.  

But yes, his small stature for his age, maybe made you baby him even more than the others, sometimes. 

Ah. That first time little Dick Grayson was sick at Wayne Manor. 

You. Freaked. The. Fuck. OUT. 

You and Bruce, both. 

Coincidentally, Dick became ill ON THE ONLY FEW DAYS OFF ALFRED WOULD TAKE A YEAR !! 

Every year, for a theater festival, Alfred would take off to his homeland, to England, in London to be exact, for but a few days. 

The three of you were in the batcave. Bruce was getting ready to go out, while you were on the bat computer and Dick was training on the side, doing some acrobatics on the trampoline Bruce installed. 

And then he came to you, pulling on your sleeve, and he was so pale...

“I don’t feel too well.” 

He said, right before throwing up for a few way too long seconds, as tears welled up in his eyes...it was never nice to throw up, and once again, no matter how mature he acted, you were reminded that Dick was but an eight year old child. 

But he wasn’t only crying because throwing up fucking sucked. He was also crying because he thought you were going to be mad at him. 

You reassured him, as you cleaned his little face up, and Bruce (who looked quite green himself...later on, you’d discover than when his kids or you were sick, he felt sick too...quite a strong reaction, really) carried him upstairs. 

You were frantically googling how to take care of a sick child, as Bruce stayed with Dick, holding a bark bucket to his face, and drawing soothing circles on his back with his hand. 

The panic dumbed the both of you down. It seemed like you couldn’t think, as you tried to make Dick as comfortable as he could. 

You could feel your anxiety blowing through the roof, and knew that Bruce was close to have a panic attack himself (he was prone to them, although you and Alfred were the only one who knew).

You didn’t know what was worst, the fact he was sick and had no idea what you were supposed to do, or how much Dick was sobbing and apologizing. 

“Should we call Dr. Thompkins ?”

“I don’t know her number, Alfred is the one that calls usually...” 

“Should we take him there then ?” 

“I don’t know, Alfred is-” 

This went on for a little bit, as Dick was throwing up and crying. Saying “sorry !” every two seconds. But...Instinctively, Bruce was trying to soothe him with those warm pats on his back. And you were caressing his hair, empathetic. And...

You decided to not go to the doctor today, Dick was sick, but not sick enough to take him to an emergency. And in Gotham ? Leslie was needed for a lot, especially in evenings like this. 

“Alfred um, gives me flat soda when I have a stomach ache ?”

“On it !” 

You say, bolting on your feet and running to the kitchen, taking a cola and opening it up. Meanwhile, Dick’s fit calmed down, and he seemed to instantly feel better as he probably threw everything he needed to up... 

He seemed content, cuddling against Bruce as the man was softly patting his back in small circles, and using his other hand to hold his head delicately. 

You and Bruce were definitely not experienced parents yet, and it showed. 

It showed by those first few minutes of utter panic, as your child got suddenly sick. And it showed as how you instantly just thought of calling Alfred...

That day, you both realized though, that you couldn’t always rely on the butler when it came to raising your son. For situations exactly like that one.

Both you and Bruce were still young, and scared to make mistakes but..You had to try. And you had to keep a cool head. Your motherly instinct kicked in.

It was so odd, seeing the big bad bat, wearing his costume without the cowl on (he didn’t have time to take it off as he rushed upstairs with the boy in his arms), looking so worried... 

Bruce was so pale, and you could see that in a way, he felt his son’s pain too...Which just made your head click, and take action. 

“Ok, ok we can do this. Keep the barf bucket close, let’s wait for the soda to get flat, and um...let’s try to distract him. A movie, perhaps ?”

Dick nodded, and although he wasn’t throwing up anymore, he seemed too weak to stand up (or maybe he was faking, could be, honestly, with that one...doesn’t matter) so Bruce carried him again. 

And it was a sight. Bruce was a tall man. And Dick was a very small kid. 

It was cute. and in that moment...In that moment it felt like you both suddenly realized what it meant, to be a parent.  

Bruce, holding his son in his arms, feeling the little one’s heartbeat and slowed breath as he was kinda nodding off...was this how his own father felt, when holding him ? It was nice. It was a surge of pure love, and knowing that he would die for that kid if he had to. Hell, he would burn the whole world, for that kid. 

It was so odd. The situation wasn’t that crazy, Dick probably just ate something bad, and with the trampoline and all the jumping around...he got sick. 

As a child, you had those rapid sick moments of having a bad stomach ache, which would turn into throwing up, to then feel better. Those sudden moments when your own parents would take care of you...

Ah. You hadn’t realized how much worry being a parent would bring. Bruce didn’t either. You guys adopting Dick felt like an obvious thing to do. Felt like it was meant to be...

But it wasn’t just yet, that you felt like a mom. Or a dad. 

It took some time to build. Just like it took time for Dick to call you “mom” and “dad”. And in that moment, as your kid (yes, your kid) was sick, that was it...

Finally. Yes. That was it. 

You were a mom. 

Bruce was a dad. 

Dick was your son. 

Of course you panicked as he suddenly got sick. But now, it was in your hand to properly take care of him. And thus started the first ritual you’d ever make with one of your children. 

Dick, when sick, liked chicken noodle soups. Made by you. He liked cuddles, up until he turned 12 or 13, then he acted as if he was too grown up for them. This eventually stopped when he turned 19, not long after Jason’s death...He regressed back to a little boy in some ways, and needed you. And Bruce. 

You’d often drive to Bludhaven just to give him chicken noodle soup and sprite, when he got sick. Even as he grew older and older...He loved it. No one could ever beat his mom babying him, when he felt under the weather. 

JASON 

"Hey buddy, are you ok ?” 

“Yes, yes I’m ok mom.” 

He smiles at you sweetly, his eyes half-closed, and clearly still relishing in the fact that he can finally call someone “mom”. But this happiness he felt whenever he realized he was finally safe, and had a home, was oddly dimmed, this morning. 

“Are you su-OH MY GOD !” 

Your hand is burning, as you lay it on his forehead. 

He’s burning up !

“Hey wow hey, kiddo, come here, you’re not feeling well are you ?” 

But Jason shakes his head, and says : 

“No I’m good. Just tired, but I’ll wake up soon.” 

He smiled again, but it felt all wrong. 

Of course, you didn’t take his words for it, even if you knew Jason wasn’t a liar. But the fact spoke for themselves, your kid was NOT alright. No matter what he was saying. 

Turned out, you were definitely right. He really wasn’t alright. 

In fact, Jason had...pneumonia. A bad case of it. That he probably caught when he was playing earlier that day, in the snow, with Bruce, staying out up until his lips were blue and he was soaking wet !! Bruce could just never resist him, and didn’t have the heart to say “no” when the kid kept asking on playing more...

He dearly regretted it. But you reassured him, this wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t. 

You rushed to the hospital, Bruce holding a tiny little Jason wrapped tight in a few warm blankets. And the doctor confirmed you made the right call, taking him to the ER. 

It wasn’t like with Dick, where it was obvious the boy had a mild sickness. No. Jason really looked bad, and ready to drop. 

You and Bruce let once again your parental instincts kick in and...It was the right call. 

When Jason woke up, he let out a string of apologies and you realized...You realized the kid was terrified you wouldn’t want him anymore if he bothered you too much. Was scared to death that you’d want to take him back where you found him, that you’d give up on him. 

His real life father bolted at the first signs of troubles. His mother was a drug addict for whom he was never good enough to try and get cleaned up. 

He was abandoned, over and over again along his short life and...he was absolutely terrified that if he was too much of a nuisance to you two, you and Bruce would leave him as well. That you wouldn’t bother. 

And it broke your hearts. 

Softly, when Jason finally got better, after a few days of utter nightmare for you and Bruce, you took him home. He still needed some rest, as he was a little sick, so you tucked him comfortably in his bed and finally, you told him : 

“From now on, you promise me to tell us when you don’t feel ok ? Wether you think it’ll bother us or not. You will never bother us, little buddy, ok ?”

“Ok”, Jason said, unsure. 

“What do I have to say or do, to convince you you’ll never be a nuisance to us ?” 

The question took Jason by surprise, and he wasn’t quite sure of what to say. In his feverish state anyway, he had a hard time thinking. He heard himself say : 

“Stay with me ?” 

“Of course. Always little one, always.” 

And as he softly drifted to sleep, feeling the cold and soothing towel you would wet over and over again to put on his forehead, he heard you hum a song from your childhood, that would become a song always sure to put him to sleep. 

He was out, when Bruce said : “I’ll stay home tonight.” A shame, really. Because maybe, maybe if he heard that the Batman was going to skip patrol just to keep an eye on him...Then he’d know he would never bother him. Ever. 

That he would forever hold a dear, prime place in his heart.

Jason woke up the next morning, and found you and Bruce asleep on the floor, right next to his bed. You were still holding a towel that had long since dried up, and one of Bruce’s hand was clutched tightly on your shirt. 

The basin full of cold water laying on his bed side table was almost empty. Jason smiled. 

He felt better after a few hours of good sleep, and slowly got out of the blankets, pulling them with him, to then lay down next to you two, throwing the thick quilt over all of you. 

Later that day, Alfred found the three of you all cuddled up. He snatched a picture. Picture that was framed, amongst some of your favorite of your children, in your office. And in Bruce’s. 

The way you sung him to sleep when he was sick...When he died, it was the last thing he thought about. When he saw the bomb would explose before Bruce could save him. 

He thought of how soothing it was, to be taken care of by you. And your humming voice rung in his ears, as he realized he was going to die. Right there. 

Oh. Oh he wished he could be a little sick eight years old again, forget all his worries, and just fall asleep with the sound of your voice in his ears, while his dad would hold the both of you in his arms...

TIM 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, go back to bed this instant !”

Tim was the most difficult one, when he had a fever. He was a bit of a workaholic (like father like son ?), and always wanted to help. He hated being too sick because then he felt useless.

Your boy just wanted so much to be there for everyone, that he often forgot himself in the process and...yes. 

His first real fever/sickness was punctuated by you constantly trying to get him back into bed.

You almost never even knew Tim was sick !

The boy was so used to taking care of himself, that he tried to handle everything on his own. He even took an appointment to the doctor himself ! But then, before having the chance to go there, he passed out in school, which resulted in a call from his principal that ended in Bruce almost having a heart attack. 

You understood him of course. It wasn’t really a nice feeling to be called out during a business meeting to have someone tell you your son passed out in school ! 

It was just a little flu, but the fever and lack of sleep got the best of him. 

Bruce didn’t even tell anyone where he was going, as he rushed to the school. You met him there, as he was walking out of the building, with a little sleepy Tim in his arms. 

“I can walk, I swear I can walk.” 

The boy was saying, yet his head was on his dad’s shoulder, and the up and down bobble of Bruce’s walk was clearly putting him to sleep. 

Your husband settled your son in the car, and drove home. 

“He was trying to convince me he could finish his school day, and that he had a group work today and didn’t want to let his friends down...”

“Sounds like Tim alright...”

You said, looking back at his sleeping form in the back seat. 

Bruce nods, but you could see something was on his mind. You always knew, when something was on his mind. Brushing a few fingers on his cheeks, you ask : 

“What is it, my Bruce ?” 

His eyes are on the road, of course. But he flicks them quickly to you, and he knows. He knows he can’t lie to you, or get away with telling you half-truth. 

You’ll know, if he’s not really telling you what has been worrying him. He takes a deep breath and, with a small voice says : 

“Is this...my fault ?” 

At first, you don’t understand, and you say : 

“I’m pretty sure it’s because that boy never wears a damn sweater, and we’re in Gotham in the middle of Winter haha.” 

But then...Then you realize what he means. 

He’s talking about the fact that Tim always seem to overcompensate for something. Always seem to want to be there for everyone, forgetting sometimes he’s just a ten years old boy. 

Tim was the only one out of his siblings that became Robin for no personal reason, but just because he loved Batman and wanted to help him. Just because he wanted to help people. 

He didn’t have a tragic backstory (although he unfortunately got one later on...), he didn’t have a reason to become Robin, other than his good nature and really wanting to help...

And Bruce let him. Allowed him to do this. Even after what happened to Jason, he let Tim sneak in your life and become Robin. 

You’d argue that Tim didn’t leave you guys much of a choice, and sort of had a “well I’m gonna help you no matter what, deal with it” sort of attitude. But you understood your husband’s worries. 

He was afraid that he was the one that made him that way. That it was because of him, that Tim worked his health off. 

“Oh, Bruce, my Heart...No. No it’s not your fault. It’s just how this amazing little boy is wired. I actually think that thanks to you, he’s more focused and taken care of. The gods can only imagine what Tim Drake would’ve done if he hadn’t been trained by Batman himself...If you said “no” to him pestering you about becoming your Robin, he would’ve taken it upon himself to go out there anyway. And then...I can only imagine what would’ve happened. So no. No it’s not your fault. It’s just...how he is. He reminds me of you a lot, actually. And I’m so, so glad he managed to convince you...Couldn’t imagine my life without that little one in it. Even if he does give me grief often, overworking like that. But it’s not your fault. It’s not. On the contrary.” 

It took you a while, to convince Bruce he didn’t create Tim the way he sort-of created Dick and Jason. But you managed to, as you always did. You could be very convincing. Plus, the boy helped. It was clear his dedication came from himself mainly, that he was just born this way. 

Too clever and smart for his own good, destined to be a Robin...and maybe a Batman, one day ?

Yes. Tim was the only one that wasn’t in it for himself. For personal reasons. He just wanted to help...

But after that first time he got sick, he understood that sometimes, it was ok to rely on you or his die. That in fact, he would gladly do so ! 

That day, Bruce carried him to his bed, even as the boy protested he was alright. Finally, you’ve had enough and ended up sort of lecturing him...gently. 

“You need to rest, sometimes, ok ? If it’s too much, if you’re too tired, physically AND mentally, you need to take a few steps back...and let others take care of things, and of you. Ok ?” 

“But-”

“No buts Timmy. It’s important. If something bad happens to you because you’ve been ignoring your own body, your own self...What will happen to those you want to help ? In order to continue what you’re doing, you need to take some pauses. Like right now. You are sick. You passed out in school. So...It’s gatorade and crackers time.” 

Gatorade and crackers. 

Tim’s favorite drinks and food. 

Gatorade and crackers. 

Two things that were rarely found in Wayne Manor. You always tried to give healthy balanced meals to your kids. Especially to Tim, who had the opposite of a balanced diet when he came into your lives (the fact he often had to take care of himself as his parents were too busy meant he often chose his own food...and of course he’d rather have ice cream than broccolis). 

But the fact that you were now giving him Gatorade and crackers meant...Meant that Dick was right. When they were sick, you would do anything to make them comfortable. 

Coincidentally though, Gatorade and saltines helped out, when one was sick. 

On that first time he became sick after starting to live with you, Tim found that it was ok, to relax sometimes. That he didn’t have to waste his life away 24/7 for others, and that he could enjoy some down time. 

It only happened when he was sick, to your great dismal. You constantly tried to convince him to take a break (just like you did with Bruce...but although it worked with your husband, especially as he got older, Tim was just very stubborn, and wanted to help too damn much). You even had to trick him into it often. 

So although you hated seeing your kids in any kind of pain, you were almost glad when Tim got sick. Because it meant he would really take care of himself. Or rather, letting you take care of him. 

That first time he got sick, he ended up leaving his bed...only to go cuddle up in yours and Bruce’s, and enjoy some down time. And learn that, it was ok, to take care of himself. 

Hell. You’d hammer this fact in his head if you had to. 

Gatorade and crackers, while watching movies in yours and Bruce’s big bed, was why Tim thought that in the end, being sick wasn’t too bad. 

Extra points if you two were in the bed with him, snuggled up all nice, safe and warm. 

CASSANDRA

Cassandra didn’t like TV, when she was sick. Instead, she liked you reading her stories better. And you’d read to her all day, if need be. Switching from time to time with your husband. 

She had trouble sleeping, even when sick and weak. Listening to your voices telling her all those wonderful stories was soothing beyond measure. 

The first time she fell sick while at Wayne Manor though, her first reflex was to go hide. Because when she used to be sick with the man who called himself her “father”, with David Cain (that scum), he used to get so mad at her. 

As if it was her fault, she became sick. 

So she’d run away. Curl into a ball. Wait for it to pass. And then face him, healthy again. It was easier to confront him when she was ok...So she’d rather run away and face the consequences, rather than stay around him while sick. 

And so, her first instinct was to go hide. 

She went to the attic, and did what she used to do. 

Curled up in a ball, in front of the round window. And wait. Alone. 

It’s Bruce, who found her. He was casually checking the GPS he put on his children. They still thought they got rid of it, the sweet kids...but as if he’d only implant one. He knew it wasn’t really ethical, but after what happened to Jason, he wasn’t willing to take any chances. 

During the day, he would check a few times, and usually during boring office meeting, to see where they were. That day, he saw Cass in the Manor’s attic, and didn’t think much of it. Cass was a curious one, who took it upon herself to explore everything in the house. 

But when he came home, and she was still there, his guts told him something was wrong...He rushed to the attic, and found her. 

And his heart stopped, when he saw her laid on the floor, curled up into a ball, and softly moaning because she had a bad fever. 

She wasn’t asleep, even in this state she fought sleep, afraid to have nightmares (and while having a fever, she couldn’t just wake up to escape them...). 

Bruce carried her out of the attic, holding her tight in his arms, his heart bleeding as he realized why she isolated herself while she needed help. 

People often misjudged Bruce on that matter. Saw him as a cold harsh man. But oh; oh if it was touching his children or you...He would feel so much. Too much, even. He just loved you all to death. 

When he brought her downstairs, and you saw her, you immediately entered “mom mode” and fussed over her, getting everything you needed to make her comfortable...but as it turned out, all she wanted was to feel yours and Bruce’s presence. 

To hear your voice, and feel you were there. 

And so without thinking, you picked up a book and started to read it to her. And you could feel her relax, let her guard down. A rare occasion she would truly let herself be chill. 

The first time Cass got sick while living under your roof, her first instinct was to hide and lick her wounds all by herself. It was to lie on the floor and hope it would pass fast. It was-

The second time she felt under the weather, she immediately went to you. It was early in the morning. And it’s only thanks to Bruce’s amazing reflexes that Cass didn’t throw up all over you two, as he pulled you away from her just in time...To then take care of changing the sheets, while you held your daughter’s hair as she threw up in the master’s bathroom’s toilet. 

And then Bruce went downstairs to take a “barf-bowl”, the one actually, that her mom used to take for him...ah. He always used that one for all the kids. Call it nostalgia. 

The second time Cass got sick while under your care, she didn’t hide. She wasn’t dreading it, even as she got even sicker than the first time. No. 

No because now, she knew she’d always find you so you could take care of her. Ah, and Dick, Jason and Tim gave her many tricks to fake being sick and have you all for herself...

DUKE

Duke was older than any of your kids were when he started to live at the Manor. He was already in his teens. He wasn't a tiny bean like the rest of them, when he came in your family...

And yet. Yet the first time he fell sick, you babied the hell out of him. 

So what if he was sixteen ? Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have all the care a child should have when he wasn’t feeling well. 

And so you were ready to take care of him, when Alfred came to you this morning to tell you “Master Duke” wasn’t feeling well. 

However, when you got to his room and indeed saw he was feverish, he refused to talk to you and just wanted to be alone. 

And then it hits you. 

Duke was sixteen. 

He wasn’t a lost little eight years old boy who had just lost his parents, or never even had parents. He wasn’t a child in dear need of love and cuddles.  

He was sixteen. 

And he wanted HIS mom. 

What happened to his parents was too fresh. 

And they weren’t dead...In a way, seeing them lose their mind with no chance of ever getting better was worst. 

Duke was sixteen. 

And there, sick, all he wanted was to have his mom’s care again.

Yes. Duke’s case was different than all your other children. Because his parents were still there. Because he was older. Because everything was so fresh, at the moment. 

In time, in the coming years, he would come to feel just like his siblings did. But right there, just mere few weeks after he moved to the manor, and mere few days after Bruce helped him find his parents...

Duke was homesick. 

He missed his dad. But he missed his mom even more. Probably for the same reason that your kids loved to have you around so much, when they were sick...

There was no doubt in your mind that Duke’s mom was amazing at taking care of him when he felt ill. She probably had her own tricks, to make him feel better. Tricks that you did not know...And so you asked. 

You simply asked. 

Because you wanted to make him feel better. You wanted to be there for him, even if right now, he didn’t want you around. 

If he truly wanted to be left alone, you’d leave some medicine and leave him be. But your guts were telling you he was just sad, and the sad was translated into him pretending he wanted to be alone. 

Your guts were right. 

Duke wanted his mom. Yes. But he also didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, right now...He just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He knew how motherly you could be.  He didn’t want to project his mother on you. He-

“What do you need ?”

You asked, and the answer came to his mind instantly. He spoke before even realizing he was doing it : 

“My mom used to make a perfect drink of warm water, honey, ginger and lemon.”  

And as you tried to recreate his mom’s drink, never quite getting the measurements right (you could see on his face it wasn’t like his mother’s), Duke slowly felt better. 

Because...Because yes. He missed his mom. And the way she took care of him. Especially on sick days. But...It wasn't everywhere that one could find someone who cared so much, that they were willing to spend their entire day trying to get a drink right, right ? 

And when Bruce came home, and asked him if he was “alright champ ?”, Duke realized one thing... 

Yes. He wanted his parents. Yes, he missed them like hell. Yes, his sick days would never be the same...

But he wasn’t alone. As Bruce joined in trying to make the perfect drink of “warm water, honey, ginger and lemon”, Duke came to the realization that his situation wasn’t as desperate as he thought, this morning, when he woke up feeling under the weather, and without his mom to take care of him. 

Because you were still there. And were planning on staying there for a very long time. Of course, you could never replace his mom. Just like you never replaced Dick’s, or Damian’s...You just, became another mom to them. 

And Duke...That first day of being sick in Wayne Manor ? He felt like he was finally willing to let you become his second mom. To let Bruce become a father figure. To have this found family, in this tough times...

Sick days were never the same than when he was a little kid and still had his parents around. 

Duke was sixteen. Growing up wasn’t easy, especially after what he went through. And sick days would never be the same...But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t be nice, as he slowly let you and Bruce, and his newfound siblings, take care of him. 

Yes. To have this found family in this tough times was quite a joy. 

DAMIAN

To the surprise of many, Damian actually didn’t resist too much being taken care of when he first got sick under your roof. 

Damian actually loved being sick, because it meant snuggles time with you, safe and warm under a blanket on the couch, watching his favorite movies. It meant your soothing fingers running in his hair, making him feel peaceful and relaxed. 

It also meant that he’d have you all for himself. 

With five siblings (with a sixth one on the way), it wasn’t always the easiest thing ever, to get his mom only for himself. Yes. He loved to be sick, and babied by you. 

The first time he got a bad fever, a few months after he arrived at the Manor, he dreaded falling ill because...

Well. Because he was raised in the League of Assassins. And being sick, no matter how much, was not considered reason enough to not train. To not do what his grandfather told him to do. 

He used to work through the sickness. Even if he felt like passing out (and he did, a few times, which earned him hours from his sleeping time taken away...). 

So Damian hated being sick. 

Until. Until he became ill for the first time when living with you. 

By that time, you and Bruce had learned how to manage a sick child. And although Bruce still felt physically ill too whenever his children were, he managed nowadays to be somewhat ok and take care of them without wincing. 

It happened not long after Damian started to call you “mom”. He fell asleep while you guys were watching a movie and...it’s what instantly told you something was wrong. 

No matter how bad a movie would be, Damian would NEVER fall asleep in the middle of it. 

Ah, and sure enough, as you checked his temperature you realized he had a bad fever. And so you carried him to his room, tucking him into bed. 

He woke up as you were doing that, and looked at you, utterly surprised. What was going on ? 

“Get some rest buddy, you’ll feel better soon.” 

You said, smiling. And at first, Damian didn’t understand. He had been so conditioned in ignoring his own well being, that he didn't realize something was wrong with him. But then, you laid a hand on his forehead, and said : 

“Ah it doesn’t seem like it’s such a big sickness, I’ll go get you some medicinal tea and...What do you want to eat ? If you’re hungry ? Maybe you’re not, sometimes when I’m sick I just don’t wanna eat anything.”

Sick ? Was he...Sick ? Yes. He was. But it was so mild, that he didn’t even think he needed to rest. Or...Didn’t he ? He was just so used to still work even when sick. 

“What-What about school ?” 

He asked, and he was surprised his voice sounded so weak and tired. Was he always feeling like that when sick ? Yes. But...Something was different. 

And then it hit him. 

“I think it’s ok if you skip a few days’ buddy.”

The difference was that, when he was sick while amongst the League of Assassins, he was always terrified that his grandfather got tired of him and send him hitmen (it happened a lot before, while he was sleeping for example, and it always happened to test him, test if he was ready, and willing to kill and ask questions after). That he didn’t find him useful enough. 

While here, with you, he felt safe. He felt loved. He felt warm. 

And so his body wasn’t in a “fight or flight” state. He was just...sick. As any normal kid would be. 

When with the Al’Ghul, he somehow managed to convince himself to keep going, to work through the pain. And oh, it’s wonders, what the brain can do when you really want to. 

But here. Here he didn’t have to act tough. To keep walking or he’d end up dead. Here. Here he was safe. And loved. 

So he felt the sickness, the fever. He felt it’s true effect. 

“What do sick people eat ?” 

He asked, and at first you didn’t think much of it. You started to tell him Dick loved chicken noodle soup while Tim preferred saltines. Cass would never eat much, neither would Jason, but they’d always say yes to some flat sodas. 

He seemed unsure of what he wanted, so you asked him a simple question : 

“What do you usually eat, when you’re sick ?” 

It was such an innocent question. But it made him almost cry. 

Usually ? 

Usually...

“Well...”

He hesitates, and you sense there’s more to things than you originally thought. Finally, after looking at your encouraging smile, he says : 

“When I was sick before, I still had to train. And then they’d tell me I’m weak.” 

In one sentence, you understand everything. And you could punch yourself for ever thinking that he got taken care of when sick. And then the next second, you hold him tight in your arms, and once again, Damian is surprised. 

But pleased. He had been touched starve most of his life, this was nice. 

“My poor baby...”

He didn’t even complain you called him a baby, and let you hug him. And then...Then you spend time with him, trying to find the perfect ritual to make him feel better while he was sick. 

You had such rituals with everyone. Formed on the day they first got sick. Damian needed his own thing too...

Thus was created the “couch nest”. 

It involved covering the living room’s couch with at LEAST one quilt, then Damian would bring the pillows (and maybe some stuffs animals, or even real ones...Titus often sneaked in) from his bed, and you would tuck him in with one or two more quilts. 

He would then spend the rest of the time watching TV and movies with you. Or with his siblings. Or his dad. 

And it was so comforting, to be wrapped up like that. Almost like laying in a hug. It made him feel like he was perpetually held by you. 

Damian used to hate being sick. Because he hated being weak. 

But this changed. Just like he changed. Thanks to his family. Thanks to you. 

Now, just like Tim, he almost loved, being sick...

************

“This sort of reminds me of that time Dick got his first fever...”

You were thinking about all those terrible, yet sweet days, of your children being sick, as you walked up the stairs to your house, a hand tightly weaved around your husband’s. 

Bruce was holding a sleeping Thomas in one of his arm (the boy was so small he could even fit in one of his hand, really), and felt relaxed. Here. With his son, and his wife, the love of his life. And with the knowledge than when you’d push the door to your house open you’d-

“Father ! Mom ! How is he !?” 

Both you and Bruce quickly put a finger on your lips, and Damian throws his hands on his mouth, regretting his scream. But he was just so worried. 

He couldn’t come with you to the doctor’s office as he had school (plus you were pretty sure he would’ve been 100 times worst than Bruce, trying to stop Leslie by any means necessary), and had been thinking about his little brother’s first shot all day. 

Damian, just like his dad, wasn’t very fond of shots. He hated that his brother (wether the youngest one, or one of the older one, really) had to go through this. 

It was always silly to you, how both Bruce and Damian, who’ve been through much worst than small little shots, hated those so much...Silly, and very cute. 

Damian was looking critically at his brother, checking him silently for any signs of distress, for any “mistakes” Doctor Thompkins would’ve done, and seemed satisfied that the boy was fast asleep in his dad’s arm.

And Bruce...Bruce was smiling. 

He felt so relaxed. And happy.

When you pushed that door, it opened on Damian rushing to the two of you, worried about his little brother. But it also opened on Alfred, who baked some comforting food, and brewed some tea for you, knowing how hard on you this sort of things could be (and yet how you insisted to take your kids to the doctor yourself, and not let Alfred do it, because you wanted to be there for them). 

It opened on Cass smiling, and ruffling Damian’s hair as to reassure him. 

It opened on Tim, who took a small break from his college study to come down and spend some times with his siblings, ready to relax in front of a movie (it was family movie night !). 

It opened on Duke, who’s hands were full of DVDs, and who was excited to try to convince y’all to watch “Ninja and Pirates 6″, or something of the like. 

It opened on Jason, who was smiling in such a way that no one would ever know all the things he went through. And it made Bruce feel all nice and warm inside...even as the little shit mimicked him having to take a shot. Squirming and looking as if he was about to faint. And ah, he hated to admit it, but his boy was impersonating him really well. 

And it opened on Dick. His first kid. The one that, one day when getting sick, was who made Bruce realize what it truly meant to be a dad. The one who knew the best how much he hated  seeing any of his children sick, or getting shots. 

On Dick, who was laughing really hard at Jason’s impersonation, and giving him feedbacks about what to improve to make it even better. 

The door opened on his family. 

And as the ruckus surrounding him woke Thomas, as Damian yelled at Jason and Dick for being so loud, and as Bruce’s eyes fell on you, while you looked at your little tribe with love in your eyes...

Bruce felt relaxed. And so, so, oh so happy. 

________________________________________________

This is yet another one of those stories I’ve been posting a lot lately, that do not take me very long to write and in which I don’t put that much effort, but that I really enjoy writing nonetheless ^^. And I hope you enjoyed reading it :), I’m nervous actually this isn’t up to your standards hahaha...Yes, hope you still liked it. Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback etc etc ^^. Thanks in advance ! 

See you soon with something much longer and on which I spend a lot of time working ;). 

[doctoranon]

I Must Be Dreaming

Written for the MGI Civil war for Team Jason Supremacy

TW: Angst, Major character death, swearing

~~~~~

“Come on, baby. We’re going to be fine.” Jason mumbled into Marinette's dirty matted hair, desperation colouring his tone. “Gonna get us out of here, we’ll be fine.” he huddled close to the semi conscious woman, being careful as possible to not disturb any of the rubble that trapped them where they were.

They’d underestimated how desperate the Joker was this time, underestimated how many bombs were placed and now they were paying the price, he and Marinette were trapped under fuck knows how much rubble with sketchy comm links and no way of knowing quite how far off a rescue would be.

They had at least garnered that one was underway through the static of the comms, that they’d called in the big guns with Supes and the Flash to help with getting to them quicker. Still, he wasn’t sure that- no, no of course they’d both make it. Their wedding was next month and then they were starting their life together. The one they’d always dreamed of. But looking at the flow of blood from Mari’s head wound his heart kept shooting straight to his throat. Logically he knew that head wounds bleed a lot and he was trying to stem the flow with a ripped piece of his uniform. But he’d been a vigilante for more than half his life at this point, and he’d seen-

Shaking the thought from his head roughly, he placed a kiss on Marinette's hair line, smoothing it out of her face as she watched him in a daze, mumbling incoherently every now and then. Everytime she did so his heart calmed a little. Consciousness was good. As long as she kept awake and stayed with him they’d both be fine.

“Jay-” his attention diverted quickly to Marinette and he smiled down at her, tears pricking at his eyes.

“Hey, Baby.” he warbled, dropping a kiss to her lips. “You’ve scared me.” he admitted, feeling his shoulders relax slightly. Help was coming. Mari was awake.

“‘M not-'” the words were slurred and seemed to take all of her energy and concentration to push past her lips. Taking a small breath, she let go of a longer one before uttering “‘M Tired.”

“I know baby, but you can’t fall asleep right now. You know that.” he explained, moving his free hand to his comm and trying to get someone's attention, growling angrily when all that could be heard was a static reply. He knew Tim was trying to reply, but he didn’t know what he was saying, and wasn't even sure if Tim was getting his own messages.

Wincing when he bit his already split lip, Jason sighed and kept a watch on Marinette, before he started to feel a shift in the rubble surrounding them. Straightening himself as much as he could he gave a yell. If it was Supes then he probably already knew exactly where they were, but anyone else might have needed the sound to redirect them.

As more and more pieces of rubble started to shift, he bent over Mari, protecting her from as much debri as possible. “See, toldja we’d get out of this, didn’t I?” he smirked down at her, before noticing her closed eyes and shallow breaths.

Immediately becoming panicked, he patted at her cheek. “Hey! No! No, you stay with me for a little longer Baby. They’ve almost got us.” he insisted. Before shouting at whoever it was to hurry it the fuck up.

Patches of light started to come in and he could hear the others now, he wasted no time to relay Marinette's condition to them and their efforts seemed to double. But, as Marinette liked to remind him, Too much of a good thing can sometimes be bad. The universe balances itself out and all that jazz.

One wrong movement of the concrete had a rather large piece dislodge. Jason's position protecting Marinette had put him directly in its path and with a solid crack hit him in the back of the head, whiting out his vision with pain. Ears ringing he tried to shake it off and check on Marinette, but that only served to make him dizzy as fuck and spots dace across his quickly dimming vision.

The last thing he saw was a silhouette against a bright light where a large body sized gap now was in the rubble they’d been trapped in. Then his vision went black and he was swept into unconsciousness.

~~~

Feelings came back to him slowly and consciousness felt just beyond his grasp, but through sheer will he opened his eyes to look around. He was in a med bed in the bat cave. So at least that meant they were out, but Marinette was nowhere in his sight and he needed to make sure she was okay.

Struggling to sit up, Jason had already started to get out of bed when Dick rounded the corner and rushed to his side.

“Get back in bed!” he was scolded, as Dick tried to stop him from getting up, and failing miserably. Jason was going to find his Fiance and no one was stopping him.

“Not till I’ve seen Mari.”

“Well that’s not happening.” he was told, as Dick called for the others not far out of hearing range. “You’re getting back in that bed.”

“Get the fuck out of my way, Dick. I’m seeing Mari.” Jason insisted, trying to push his brother away from him as he staggered under his own weight for a moment. Reinforcements arrived under the guise of Tim, Chloe and Alfred and he groaned internally before noticing the red rimmed eyes the blonde was sporting and his heart froze.

Doubling his efforts, he pushed Dick away successfully this time. “Where is she, Tim?” His tone was frantic as he started on his way past his other brother. “Where the fuck is Marinette.” her name brought a whimper from the blonde and Jason's frantic eyes zeroed in on her. “Please.” he begged, refusing to believe the worst.

When no one moved or tried to answer his question he growled angrily, moving to push past them again before being stopped by both Dick and Tim.

“Jay, please, get back in bed. We’ll explain-”

“NO!” Jason struggled against the two former robins, his eyes beginning to drake on a greener hue. “Let me see Marinette!”

Feeling a presence come up from behind him, he felt rather than saw as something pricked his skin.

“I’m afraid, Master Jason, you need to calm down.” came the guilt laced tone of the Wayne butler. Something Jason felt triple his anxiety before the sedative began to kick in and his weight was caught by Tim and Dick.

“Mari-” he mumbled, before unconsciousness took him over again.

~~~~

The next time he was aware, he felt a hand in his own and a soft humming coming from his left. A familiar humming. A beautiful humming that belonged to-

 “Marinette.” he mumbled, opening his eyes and searching for her visage, smiling sleepily at her when he saw her sitting in a chair next to the bed. Bandages wrapped around her head.

“Hey, Sleepy head. It’s about time you woke up.” she smiled, squeezing his hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “You gave everyone a scare earlier.”

“You scared me. You weren’t here when I woke up- I thought-” he choked but he grinned at her through his tears. Pulling their hands to him and returning the kiss on the back of her hand. “I was worried, beautiful.”

Chuckling at him, she booped his nose with a scrunched up grinning face; A scrunched up, grinning alive face. “I’m not leaving you that easily.” she comforted, before letting go of his hand and waving her engagement ring in his face. “Besides, you put a ring on it. I’m yours. Forever.” she teased him, gaining a chuckle from him as he relaxed back into the pillows.

“If Dick-head had just old me you were okay-”

“Hey, don't blame your brother for your half cocked plans and jumping to conclusions!” she scolded him, a grin still fixed to her face. “You need to wake up when i'm here next time.”

Chuckling Jason felt at peace, knowing they were both okay. “Or you could not scare me in the first place”

Resting his eyes, he breathed a sigh of relief, letting go of all residual tension he had been holding onto. “So, any chance you’re going to show me that dress before the wedding now?” he teased, opening his eyes and over acting a pathetic look on his face. “Please?”

“Never. The day I walk up the aisle or not at all.”

“I had to try.”

Both chuckling at their antics, Marinette moved to cuddle up on the bed with him. “I can’t wait until the day after the wedding.” She told him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “When I wake up as Mrs Jason Todd.”

“I can’t wait for that either.” he beamed, kissing her sweetly and pulling back to stare into her eyes. “For that day, and every day afterwards.”

~~~~

Over the next few weeks, Jason felt like he was walking through a dream. The days felt like they moved slowly and quickly all at once. They both healed up and anticipation grew as the big day was suddenly upon them, and he was there, standing at the bottom of the aisle waiting for his soon to be wife to join him. 

As the song he didn’t even remember picking played, the most beautiful woman in the world walked towards him. Ready to commit her love and life to him forever. Something finally all his. Something permanent.

Dick leaned over his shoulder and nudged him with a wide grin. “You look mesmerised, Little Wing.” he whispered, the proudest grin Jason had ever seen aimed at him.

“I feel like I'm dreaming.”

Dick chuckled lightly as he faced the front again, eyes on the procession. “Then you better wake up, Jay. Because she's nearly here.”

As Marinette reached him at the altar, he reached for her hands, pulling her towards him and stealing a small kiss.

“Hey, save it for the end.” Tim, who was officiating at the behest of his brother teased them, as the seemingly faceless congregation chuckled in the background.

“I couldn’t help myself.” Jason laughed, feeling so full of love and life. Everything was perfect. Just like he and Marinette had dreamed.

Clapping his hands together with a bright and wide grin, Tim turned to face the audience. “Welcome, to the wedding of my Big brother, Jason Todd, and the girl I introduced him too, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Both the Bride and Groom have written their own vows and Marinette won the coin flip to go first.” Tim joked, before gesturing to the vision in white.

“Jason, the day we met, I knew you’d be a pain in my ass.” she teased, gaining a chuckle and ‘hear, hear’ from the people present, himself included. “And you are,” she added to a few more chuckles, as tears formed in both their eyes. “The day you first kissed me, I knew forever was what I wanted from you.” she grinned at him, tears falling down her cheeks, and he moved his hand to wipe them away.

“And the day I died, I knew I would leave you heartbroken.” Jason froze, the smile was still plastered on her face, and looking at Tim showed the same, as if Marinette had said nothing wrong at all.

“Wait, what?” His brow furrowed and heart starting to beat quickly in his chest. “I don't understand, Mari?”

“You need to wake up, Jason,” Tim was speaking now, the happy smile still plastered on his face as if he wasn’t breaking Jason's entire world.

“No. No I don't. We’re getting married,” Jason said frantically, looking around him at the guests and feeling a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

“Please, Little wing. Wake up.”

The world both fizzled out to black, the image of Marinette in her wedding dress fading quickly, and also gained a more realistic feeling behind closed eyelids.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jason felt his lips tremble as he turned his head and slowly opened his eyes to his brother sitting next to him in a med bed in the bat cave.

His brother met his eyes, red rimmed and full of pain.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

The pause was a hundred years and no time at all.

“I- Yeah, Little wing. She’s gone.”

He closed his eyes again and turned to face the ceiling, tears spilling from under his eyelids.

“We were getting married.”

“I know.” was the choked reply, and he could hear the pain in Dicks voice, but he couldn’t feel anything over the rush of absolute nothing he felt.

“I love her so much, Dick.” he whispered, teeth clenching as he began to cry in earnest. Breathing felt strange, the whoosh of in and out feeling nothing like it should, and two arms encircled him as a low keening noise escaped from behind his still clenched teeth.

He was supposed to be stuck with her, forever. And as the thought of forever filled his mind, a forever now not including Marinette; Jason felt something in his chest shatter so explosively he knew he’d never find all the pieces again.

[bluejayblueskies]

seven for jontim? <3

jontim + things you said while we were driving

.

The tension in the car on the way to Great Yarmouth is so thick Jon could cut it with a knife. He’s not really sure how he ended up carpooling with Tim—something about old habits and the Archers and ‘time to think’ that has Basira and Daisy sharing a car—but they’re an hour in and Jon can count the number of words Tim’s said to him on one hand.

 Jon wants to break the silence. He doesn’t know if they’ll get another chance to talk, if he’ll get another chance to say everything he wants to say. To apologize, to try to make amends, to tell Tim that he still—

 Jon sucks in a breath and looks out the window, at the sprawling countryside as it whisks by. Once upon a time, his hand would be clasped with Tim’s on the center console and Tim would be telling him some elaborate story about his latest camping trip or the case he’d been working on that had taken a dramatic turn or the latest office gossip and his own rather strong opinions about it. That’s one of the things he’d liked about Tim—the fact that Tim could talk, and Jon could listen, and when Jon got excited about something and interrupted Tim’s story, Tim would take it in stride and listen with a smile.

 God, it had been so easy, and now it’s not, and that more than anything makes Jon ache like his heart has been torn free from his rib cage.

Jon doesn’t realize he’s been tapping his fingers in a nervous rhythm on the center console until Tim lets out a labored sigh and breaks the silence as gracelessly as a bullet through a glass house. “Just say it.”

 It’s too loud after so long with only the noise of the road and the low murmur of the radio, and Jon startles, his hand retreating back to his lap reflexively. “What?”

 Tim’s eyes remain on the road, but Jon can see the tension in him, in the way his hands grip the wheel firmly and his mouth flattens into a thin line. “Just say whatever it is you need to say. Might as well. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

 Jon winces slightly at the flatness in Tim’s voice, at the way he sounds just- just indifferent. It cuts worse than any anger or frustration. At least those meant that Tim was still feeling something toward him, no matter how negative. Now, Tim just sounds tired. Resigned.

 “I was…” Jon swallows and looks down at his hands so he doesn’t have to see Tim’s face. “I was thinking about the time we went to the coast together, to follow up on that case about the mermaid.”

 Tim makes a sound that might be a laugh if it weren’t so humorless. “Yeah, I remember,” he says, and maybe Jon’s imagining the hint of wistfulness in his voice, looking for something that isn’t there. “Turned out to be nonsense, but it…”

 Tim’s hands tighten on the wheel for a moment before going slack, his face twisting into something pained. “It was nice,” he says, so quietly Jon almost doesn’t catch it. “You, er. You had a lot to say about harbor seals.”

 Jon flushes and rubs one thumb over the other—a nervous tic of his, one that leads to dry and cracked skin if he isn’t careful. “Yes, well. Growing up by the sea tends to foster an interest in marine wildlife. And, er. Well. Nobody else ever seemed interested, in- in the topic.” A pause. Jon worries his bottom lip between his teeth and says, “I miss our conversations.”

 “Jon,” Tim says. It’s a warning and a plea and a refusal all wrapped into a single word. And Jon should just leave it at that—let them pass the rest of the time in silence, like they’ve been doing for months.

 Instead, he says, “I’m sorry, Tim. For- for everything.”

 “Please, just- not now,” Tim says, his voice growing sharp around the edges even as the core retains that same weariness Jon’s grown accustomed to.

 He hates it. He hates that Tim doesn’t tell jokes anymore, that Tim doesn’t smile wide and easy and greet Jon with a ghosting hand across Jon’s upper back, that Tim’s shoulders sag ever so slightly as he walks like he’s bearing the weight of the world. He hates that it’s his fault.

 “Then when?” Jon says, that same sharpness bleeding into the words against his will. “After this is all over? We might not—”

 We might not make it out alive, his mind supplies. But the words stick in his throat. Instead, he says, “Just. You don’t have to say anything, just- just listen. I- I don’t expect forgiveness.” Jon pauses, then says, softer, “It’s not my right to ask for it.”

 Tim’s quiet for a long moment. The radio is playing something upbeat, a pop song that Jon’s never heard but that sounds exactly like the rest of the music the station has been supplying. Jon wants to turn it off; it grates on his nerves, makes every second feel like an eternity.

 He doesn’t. Somehow, he thinks silence—true silence—might be worse.

 “Okay,” Tim says finally, his eyes still fixed on the road. “Just- just please don’t say you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

 “Right,” Jon says. His fingers go to the hem of his shirt, fiddling with the fabric. There’s a loose thread there, and without thinking, he pulls it. It spirals out, making a neat line in the fabric where the weave falls out of line that Jon won’t be able to smooth out again.

 He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He can’t mend what’s broken, can’t unpull the thread that’s tugged them out of sync. In less than a day, they’ll be in the museum, and Jon’s skin will be crawling with the memory of ropes tight around his wrists and plastic fingers coated with lotion touching him over and over and over, and they’ll be executing a plan that Jon can’t shake the feeling will go horribly, terribly wrong. They have so little time. Never enough time.

 So, Jon says instead, “I remember when we first met. I- I don’t know if you do, it- it was very brief, and you seemed quite occupied with whatever case you were researching, but I- I remember. You were, uh. You were wearing that olive green shirt you like, the- the one with the buttons that look like flowers. You were distraught when you ripped the sleeve on that barbed wire fence when we, uh, broke into the—”

 Jon cuts off with a small laugh. “I suppose our research tactics were quite unorthodox. And more than a little illegal at times. But when I got excited about a case and decided to pursue it in a more, er, thorough capacity, you were always there. I- I don’t think I ever told you, but that was the first time I realized how much I’d grown to like you. You, lamenting about how you’d had that shirt for years, so- so dramatic about the whole situation. And I spent a frankly embarrassing amount of time finding another one just like it, an even more embarrassing amount of time figuring out how to give it to you without coming across as- as weird or what have you. But you just smiled and took it, and- and maybe it’s silly, but I think that’s when I…”

 Jon doesn’t say when I started to fall in love with you. But from the pinched look on Tim’s face, he knows he doesn’t have to.

 It’s like Jon’s there again, the weight of Tim’s smile making his pulse flutter hummingbird-fast in his throat, his voice slipping into the stutter he tried so hard to hide at work so that he came across as professional. He practically thrust the shirt into Tim’s hands, his cheeks burning as he did so. And Tim’s thank you, so genuine and surprised and happy, had dragged a smile of Jon’s own to his face.

 Tim had liked making Jon flustered—had made it a game, figuring out what he could say to make Jon smile or laugh or flush so deeply it was visible against his skin. Jon didn’t understand why some of the things he said made Tim smile in return or press a quick kiss to Jon’s lips or give Jon a soft I love you that still made Jon’s pulse quicken no matter how many times Tim said it. But it didn’t matter, because Tim understood him.

 Jon misses Tim so much he can hardly breathe, even after everything. His words come out slightly choked when he says, “I remember when you would bring me lunches because you knew I would forget to eat sometimes if I got caught up in my work. And- and when you went to that shop that had a cat and you sent me- Christ, so many pictures, it- it was really quite excessive.” Quieter, Jon says, “And when you brought me to that park with the lights, and- and you told me that you loved me.”

 “Jon,” Tim says. It comes out tense, like somebody who’s trying very hard to keep their emotions in check.

 “I know,” Jon says, pulling and pulling at the thread on his shirt until the fabric is bunched up completely and utterly ruined. I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry. “I… I know.”

 Tim’s quiet for another long moment. Then, he exhales heavily, like he’d been holding his breath, and moves one hand from the wheel to the center console, palm up.

 Tim’s hand is warm in his. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps his eyes trained on the road, even as his fingers twine with Jon’s in a practiced motion that’s still as easy as breathing.

 Jon spends the rest of the car ride memorizing the feel of Tim’s hand in his, the shape of his fingers and the soft skin of his palm, and tries very hard not to think about the way it feels like a goodbye.

[hot-wiings]

The One Where Pro-hero!Katsuki Bakugo's Son, Finds Santa Kissing His Mother. Alternatively, The One Where Katsuki's Son Demands His Father Beat Up Santa Claus On Christmas.

Requested By: Wattpad User

Edited: 12-25-2020

Katsuki quietly hummed to himself as he worked inside the kitchen prepping breakfast. He had some pancakes and sausage on the stovetop, whereas he kept the bacon cooking inside the oven. He had one arm on [Daughter Name], keeping her attached to his hip as he bounced her and flipped food with his other hand. She was only two and still being young she clung to her father for attention, with it being one of his rare days off for the holidays he wasn't going to say no, he was going to devote it to her and his son.

"Bud, can you toast the bagels for me?"

Katsuki briefly moved his attention from the stove to pull the bag of bagels out of the bread cabinet and tossed them onto the counter. Usually, he'd had done it himself but with his daughter on his hip, cooking was already proving to be difficult. His son rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"I like it better when mom cooks. She never makes me do stuff."

"Hey! You should gladly offer yourself up to help her when I'm not around. Your mother is a Saint, that's why she's sleeping in and you're stuck with me. Now toast the f– toast the bagels."

[Son Name] untied the bag and pulled the bagels out begrudgingly. He was defiantly a momma's boy and loved to give Katsuki lip, undoubtedly universal karma for Katsuki being such a demon to his own mother. Katsuki had to smile to himself as he put food on platters and placed it on the table as well as placing his daughter in her height chair before leaving to wake you up for breakfast.

Katsuki never thought this would become his life. He never thought he'd have a son, his own carbon copy of himself, nor did he imagine he'd follow up with baby number two attached to his hip whenever he wasn't out heroing. Beyond that, he never imagined he'd find someone like you, someone who put up with his crap, someone perfect. He never imagined such a picture-perfect domestic life for himself, one where he cooked, fed the children and owned a cat. One where he had a scheduled date night every week and brought flowers home every other Sunday. He wouldn't ever dare change it.

"Baby?"

Katsuki quietly closed the door behind him and walked over to the window so he could open up the curtains and let light in. You groaned and pulled the pillow over your head as the light made contact with you. You pulled the blanket closer to your body, and a smile tugged at Katsuki's lips. He loved moments like this.

"Sweetheart, it's time to wake up."

"No, you're mean. A big meanie."

Katsuki climbed into the bed and cuddled up next to you. He pulled the pillow off of your head and threw it onto the ground on his side so you couldn't reach back for it. You had major bedhead, and he loved that. Years ago you would've forbidden him from seeing you like that, now he found it hot.

"It's Christmas Eve, you need to get up."

"No, leave me alone. It's my day off, go wake the kids up."

"Already awake, and breakfast is on the table. We wanted to let you sleep in, give you a break for once."

Katsuki pushed your hair out of your face and tried to pull the blanket out of your grip as you fought back a smile. He thought he was being really smooth.

"For being a pro-hero you're such a liar. You don't want me to have a break, you were trying to butter me up so we can repeat what we did last night."

"You were the one who was all over Santa last night, don't blame me if I try to get the use out of the Santa suit before I have to give it back to the company."

He was referring to the Santa costume he came home wearing last night. Everyone at his hero agency had to dress up as Santa and do some charity work for a variety of different places such as churches and hospitals. He came straight home afterward and you put it to good use.

"Mm, I don't need Santa when I have you, I guess."

"Geez, aren't you romantic."

"Just let me put some clothes on and I will be right down."

You rolled off the bed and scampered off to your laundry basket to see if you could find some pajamas to clothe your naked body. Katsuki ripped his eyes away from your back, ripped his eyes away from the marks he gave you passionately. He climbed off of the bed and made his way back downstairs to the breakfast table but he passed [Son Name] in the kitchen putting bagels in a toaster.

"Dad, can I talk to you? Man to man."

"What's up, little man?"

"Last night... Last night I saw mommy and Santa kissing."

Katsuki tried to laugh it off as he pulled the orange juice from the fridge and placed it on the table, your son following him hot on his tail as he went.

"Santa only comes on Christmas."

"That's what I thought, but mom said Santa comes before Christmas sometimes to make sure our trees are working, like in 'The Grinch' but for real, and mommy would never lie to me."

"I'm sure it's not what it looked like, Alright? Your mother loves us both very much and she wouldn't do that to us."

It was exactly what it looked like but it wasn't Santa, it was himself in the Santa suit. Katsuki was grasping at straws, trying to explains this to his son and make it look innocent, trying to make you look good without exposing the secret.

"I know mommy wouldn't do that to us! What I really wanted to talk about was how Santa was really mean. He took her into her bedroom and said some really mean things. He yelled stuff at her like 'that's my pussy' and 'give me a baby'. If he wants a cat so bad can't the elves just give him one, I like our cat."

This progressively kept getting worse, and Katsuki was glad that you were still upstairs. Had you heard their conversation you surely would've killed Katsuki.

"Daddy, you need to stop Santa before he tries to steal our cat, I love Gigi! What if he tries taking [Daughter Name], he said he wanted a baby. Or worse, what if he tries stealing mommy from you. You-you need to beat him up when he comes tonight. You need to set Santa straight."

There were so many things Katsuki could've said or done to de-escalate this. He could kindly explain he was in a Santa suit for charity work. He could have lied and said he and you were arguing about getting another cat. He could have been honest and said you both were talking about having another child, but he didn't. [Son name] was begging him with forming tears in his eyes. He was crying out and calling him daddy. He was such a momma's boy, Katsuki hadn't had his son need or want him like this in such a long time. It felt nice, it felt good, so all Katsuki did was nod and agree with his son.

"They don't call me DynaMight for nothing. I'll blow him into next week. Santa won't think about stealing anyone of our family members ever again."

[Son Name] wrapped his arms around Katsuki and he smiled. He tightly grabbed his father, and let his tears fall into Katsuki's shirt as he mumbled out thank you's.

"I can't wait to see you beat up Santa."

In hindsight, Katsuki should've expected that one. How was he supposed to beat up Santa when he was Santa in the first place. Suddenly a horrible idea crossed Katsukis head. It is despicable, and mean. You would've frowned upon it and discouraged it. Once his son let go of him and walked off to sit at the breakfast table, Katsuki walked down the hall to make a phone call to his coworker.

"Key, Kaminari– What do you mean I only call you when I need something?! I'm a good friend you du– Look, do you still have your Santa suit? Come to my house tonight at eleven, in your suit. I promise it's for a good cause."

The clock was slowly ticking away. Every second chasing down the hour and Christmas Eve was well on it's way to becoming Christmas. Supper had finished up, Katsuki even cleared the table and helped you do the dishes. He had cooked, and it was a mutual unspoken agreement between you both that whoever cooked dinner did not have to clean it up after. He didn't even try to sprinkle you with water, he was just sweet and soft for the evening.

"Thanks, Katsuki, you're being so sweet today. Let me sleep in, made breakfast and you helped me clean? God, you're such a keeper."

You threw your drying towel onto the now cleared and clean counter before you made your way to the living room to find some Christmas movie on the tv that was age-appropriate for your children. Katsuki was being sweet, too sweet and it made you suspicious. He was pulling out all the cards and tricks he typically pulls out when you get angry that he'd forgotten something, or came home too late.

After you got settled down on the couch with [Son Name] nestled between your legs on the floor and [Daughter name] cuddling into your right side. Katsuki came over and sat a tray of hot cocoa on the coffee table in front of the couch. Katsuki took a seat at your left side and passed you a mug before wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. You hummed while you sipped from the mug and carefully watched as Katsuki skimmed through the tv channels and put on 'Santa Claus', the one starring Tim Allen, for the kids and you.

He hated that movie. He claimed it was to overwatched. After being put on year after year he wanted a new Christmas movie.

"What did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

Katsuki was taken back by your words. He didn't do anything, at least not yet. He was planning to roast your best friend, but Denki didn't even know it was happening and the only one who could snitch was his son who didn't know it would be Denki.

"You let me sleep in, you made breakfast, you bathed the kids and uhm, me. You cooked and helped clean dinner, now you've brought me cocoa and now you're putting on a movie you hate. So, what did you do?"

To be fair, some of those things Katsuki had planned out into motion before he had even planned to blast Denki into next Tuesday.

"I just wanna cherish you. You're my wife, let me love you."

Katsuki pulled you even closer to his side, nearly making the cocoa in your hands tip over as he placed a tender kiss onto the tip of your head.

"You forgot to get me a present didn't you?"

Your eyes narrowed at Katsuki before he dipped his head own to your ear and whispered hotly.

"I did not forget, you're getting a great present tomorrow morning, and maybe I'll even give you one tonight."

"I'm watching you."

The minutes slid by as you watched the movie together as a family. Everyone once and awhile you give Katsuki a look out of the side of your eye, carefully inspecting him. Soon your son was nodding off at your legs and your daughter was sound asleep in your lap.

"Time for bed."

Your son jumped up, seemingly having excitement from out of nowhere. You carefully picked up your daughter and carried her in your arms as you stood up to carry her to bed. One down, one to go.

"Go brush your teeth and put on your pajamas for mommy, okay? I'll be right there to tuck you in."

Your words were rushed and whispered as to not wake your sleeping daughter, but your son frowned and grabbed Katsuki's hand.

"I want daddy to tuck me in tonight."

"Mm, you sure? I'd love to read you a bedtime story."

"I want dad."

You adjusted your daughter on your arms to help even out the weight as you stared down your son and husband.

"If you're both not in bed within half an hour I will take away a Christmas gift."

You walked off upstairs, still suspicious of the males in your family. No way did your son, the momma's boy, just reject your offer. Now you were positive Katsuki was up to something.

Katsuki waited until you were upstairs to text Denki. He was outside, waiting to make noise under the pretense that his son wanted to meet Santa. Denki could be heard outside, doing goodness knows what.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah! I bet it's Santa, are you gonna beat him up dad, are you gonna show him who's boss!?"

Katsuki rolled his sleeves up and looked back at the stairs, just to be sure you were upstairs and not watching them.

"You can bet your butt I am! Your dads the greatest, watch me go kick Santa's butt."

Katsuki marched to the front door and swung it open before making his way to Denki. He walked the way he did on patrol, the way he did when he was on TV, like a man on a mission, a man with a purpose.

"Ho-Ho-Ho!–"

"Ho-Ho-Ho yourself! Heard you wanted to break apart my family, Santa."

Katsuki aimed one of his blasts at Denki. It wasn't large enough to harm him, but it was large enough to hurt.

"Katsuki, what the fuck dude?"

"That was for being mean to my wife and trying to take away our cat."

Katsuki marched closer to Denki and kicked him in the leg, grinning as he heard Denki groan in pain.

"That was for swearing in front of my kid. If I can't do it, neither can you."

"I'm sorry, Jesus Christ."

Katsuki left Denki on the floor as he walked over to the front door and picked his son up. His son clutched on to him tightly, happy his father saved the family. Happy his father wouldn't let Santa take his cat or mother away.

"Thanks, Dad, you're my hero."

"Well, I am the best hero. I'd fight Santa for you any day, just don't tell your mom."

Even though Denki snitched to you the next day, even though you had watched the altercation through the window, you didn't say a word to Katsuki. You didn't reprimand him, or get upset that he hurt Denki. Instead, you watched fondly with a smile from the window. That was the father of your children, your hero, and the guy who held your heart. He was soft and sweet and held the bar for fathers high. He deserved a pass for this one.

[dccomicsimagines]

What’s Lost is Found - Batfamily Imagine - Bonus Part Nine.Five

Warning - Depressive Thoughts, Angst Content

Part One   Part Two  Part Three   Part Four  Part Five  Part Six  Part Six.Five  Part Seven  Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten   Part Eleven

Requested by Anon - Hey! Uh... Can i request a one-shot from dick's P.O.V. from what's lost is found when he realise (y/n) is not in the mansion/found (y/n)'s note about handing themself to the fake bane? I'd really love to see slight angst of panicked dick worrying about his kid.(sorry not sorry dick)🤣

Author’s Note - Sorry this took so long, but I was working on other things before diving back into the What’s Lost is Found universe. ;) 

***

The warmth from the sunlamp soaked into Dick as he sat in the ICU area of the cave. Kori hadn’t woken up yet. She laid on the bed directly under the lamp, taking the full blast from it. Her baby bump clearly visible under the sheet. He stared at the heart monitors, both heartbeats were strong. Why wouldn’t she wake up?

Dick buried his face in his hands. His body ached. The pills Alfred slipped him must have wore off. 

He frowned when he heard the arguments coming from the meeting room in the cave. They were planning their next move to deal with siege on Gotham. Dick knew he should be in there with them, but there wasn’t any point. He was going to take his family home where it was safe. 

Dropping his hands, he looked back at Kori. His stomach twisted in knots.

He tensed at the sound of soft footsteps approaching. However, he relaxed when he felt your presence by his side. “Hey kiddo,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around you. You leaned into him. Dick’s heart glowed. At least you were safe. His hand rubbed your side gently.

“Is she okay?” You trembled in his grasp. Your words stabbed at Dick’s heart. Tears threatened to fall down his cheeks. You were so young. Too young for all of this. 

“Her vitals and the baby’s are good, but she hasn’t woken up.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing when his shoulder flared in pain. Damn, maybe he should have taken another dose of pain meds. You shifted in his grasp. He glanced up to see your lips pursed, eyes downcast. “This isn’t your fault, honey. I don’t want to hear that from you.” Your eyes watered. Dick kissed your cheek, the father instinct in him taking over.  “I didn’t want you to be part of this.”

You tensed. Dick saw the anger flash in your eyes, but you didn’t snap at him. His arms ached to hold you, to comfort you and himself at the same time. He hesitated a moment before pulling you to sit in his lap. You relaxed into his hold much to his relief.  “Shouldn’t you be with the others?” you asked.

“No.” Dick squeezed his arms around you. Gathering his courage, he spoke his next words carefully. “We’re not going to be here for much longer.”

“What?!” you gasped. Dick sighed. He knew you would react this way. Your jaw dropped, staring at him with those big eyes in disbelief. You looked so much like Bruce in that moment. Dick remembered getting a similar look from Bruce when he swung off the chandelier for the first time. 

“We’re leaving, going home.” Dick frowned when you pulled away from him. His arms reached out to try to keep you close. “Don’t fight me on this, sweetheart.” Dick’s heart broke into a million pieces. He had to keep you, Kori, and the baby safe. Why couldn’t you just understand for once? Why did you always have to fight?

“We can’t leave.” Your voice cracked. Dick saw your hands trembling. He wanted to reach out to hold them still, but you would just run away from him.  “I caused this. I can’t leave them to deal with this. Tim already hates me, Damian too. I can’t do this to them.”

Something inside Dick snapped. He felt a cold, raw anger build inside his chest.  “I’m not arguing with you on this. We’re going home.” Your eyes widened in shock. Color drained out of your face. Dick caught himself. The anger evaporated. He softened his tone. “I have more to lose now.” Without a thought, he reached out to pat your arm. You flinched away from him. Dick jerked like you tore his heart out. “(Y/N).” You left the room so fast, you were gone in a blink of an eye. 

A plug released from inside of him and Dick sobbed in a way he hadn’t since his parents died. Completely broken. Deep down, he knew he shouldn’t be selfish and whisk his family away when Gotham needed all hands on deck. The others were his family too. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to them.

Time passed and Dick slowly collected himself. Kori hadn’t stirred. He went over to kiss her forehead. “I’ll be back, sweetheart. I’m going to talk to (Y/N).” He waited a moment for any sign from Kori. However, she didn’t move. “Please wake up soon.” He kissed her again before pulling himself away. 

The raised voices from the meeting room echoed through the cave. Lois was talking to Alfred in the corner as Alfred was setting up sandwiches and drinks for everyone. “Do you know where (Y/N) went?” Jon asked Dick shyly, appearing beside him. Dick frowned. His eyes narrowed. Jon flinched.

“No.” Dick crossed his arms. “What you did was so irresponsible. I trusted you to keep (Y/N) out of this and safe.” 

“I know.” Jon bit his lip, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I already got the full lecture from Mom, Dad, Alfred, Jason, and Damian.” He looked Dick in the eye rather bravely. Dick found himself respecting Jon just a little bit more. “I’m sorry.”

Dick cleared his throat. “I suppose I can overlook it. I’d imagine (Y/N) would have came anyway, no matter if you brought them or not.” He glanced around the cave. “You haven’t seen (Y/N)?”

“No, not since Alfred changed their bandages.” Jon tensed, following Dick’s gaze. 

“I’ll check upstairs while you look around here.” Dick jogged to the steps and headed up. He heard Jon zooming off to search the lesser used areas of the cave. Dick’s heart was in his throat. Please don’t let anything happen to (Y/N). Please don’t let (Y/N) do something foolish and dangerous.

He couldn’t shake the sense of dread settling in the bottom of his stomach. Bursting through the clock entrance into Bruce’s study, his blood ran cold when he saw notes for everyone on the desk. They were all in your handwriting.

“No, no, no, no.” Dick grabbed the note with his name on it and opened his. His eyes came across ‘I’m sorry’ before he crumbled it in his hand. “Damn it, (Y/N).” He was about to rush back down to the cave when a terrible sound echoed from it. Dick paused. “Damian?” It couldn’t have been Damian. Damian never sounded like that before. 

Dick rushed down the stairs, almost tripping to find Damian on his knees in front of the batcomputer. The others were gathered around, watching in horror. Footage from outside Wayne Tower was playing live. You were in the Bane lookalike’s arms, limp. Dick’s mouth went dry as he watched the Bane lookalike toss you into a waiting vehicle. 

“We have to stop him.” Damian was on his feet, racing toward the batmobile like a dehydrated man seeing water for the first time. 

“Stop. You won’t get there in time.” Tim grabbed at Damian’s arm to stop him. Damian snarled, slamming his fist into Tim’s jaw to knock him back.

“That’s my sibling.” Damian started toward the batmobile again. Jason tackled him to the ground. The terrible sound came from Damian again as he fought with Jason desperately to get to the batmobile. “We can’t let them die. We can’t leave them.” 

Jason grunted as Damian’s elbow smashed into his stomach. “Stop it. You’re not thinking straight.”

Dick looked back at the screen. All the light in his life was sucked away in an instant. You were dead. There’s no way they would keep you alive. Dick closed his eyes, burying his face in his hands.

A hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up to meet Barbara’s eye. “We don’t know if they’re gone. Let’s not grieve until we do,” she whispered. Dick looked at the others. Jon Kent was hugging Lois tight, sobbing into her shoulder. Lois had tears in her eyes too. Jason and Damian were still wrestling on the ground with Damian slowly dragging them over to the batmobile. Alfred stared blankly at the screen in shock. Tim was on his knees, embracing Steph from where she collapsed. Cass and Duke appeared numb and held hands with each other. They slowly moved to Alfred’s side to comfort him. 

“Right.” Dick swallowed his grief. He allowed himself to have that little spark of hope in his chest. You were strong and the fact they didn’t kill you outright meant that they maybe had other plans. Besides, he was the oldest. He had to be the example. 

Barbara nodded over to Jason and Damian. “You better take care of that first. I’m going to try to track that vehicle.” Barbara went to the computer and started working. 

Dick took a deep breath. “Cass, Duke, get ready to go out there as soon as Babs has information for you.” They nodded, running off to get dressed.

“Fuck! Get off me, you idiotic street rat.” Damian suddenly broke away from Jason and scrambled to his feet. “I will not be the last Wayne!” He panted, glancing at the computer before swiftly kicking Jason in the side. “You wasted my time! (Y/N) could be dead by now!”

“Damian!” Dick rushed over, stepping between Jason and Damian. Jason groaned, holding his side. “Calm down! This is not going to help (Y/N).” Damian’s glare darkened. Dick rested his hands on Damian’s shoulders, tensing in case Damian exploded again. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Dami, I know you’re scared for (Y/N). I’m terrified for them too, but lashing out isn’t going to help us get them back.” 

Damian took a shaky breath. He closed his eyes. “I can’t be the last Wayne.” Dick’s stomach dropped to his feet. His fear threatened to take over, but he held it off. He had to be strong for Damian, for the others. 

“You aren’t.” Dick pulled Damian into his arms. Damian went limp, his knees giving out. Dick fell with him, ignoring the wetness on his shirt as Damian hid his face into Dick’s shoulder. “(Y/N) is still alive. We know that. We’ll find them and bring them back home.” Dick rested his chin on Damian’s head. His own tears fell down his cheeks. “I swear we’ll find them.” He rocked Damian back and forth.

[sazc94]

The Three Times James "Bucky" Barnes Broke your heart

This was inspired by @msmarvelwrites 2k Writing Challenge because I'm a sucker for Taylor Swift especially sad Taylor Vibes. I chose the all too well lyrics.

Apparently, I can't do anything small so it's in two parts.

Part 2 Here

Pairs Bucky x Reader and Pietro x Reader. (Not at the same time)

No smut but mentions of sex so 18+

Themes: highschool, cheating, college/uni. Friendship

Words 5659 its Suburban AU.

Winter 2018

You sat on the window seat, head resting on the cool glass a mug of hot chocolate between your hands. Winter in New York was something else, the way everything sparkled in the blanket of snow. This wasn’t your first December in the “Big Apple” but it was your first after moving here. Like the walking cliché you were you had moved here for a Fresh Start, after being offered a once in a lifetime opportunity of working for Tony Stark. You hadn’t planned on taking the job working as head of advertising for Stark Industries. The idea of moving from your small town in Michigan away from your family, everyone you knew and loved, and most importantly away from your best friend and your on-again-off-again boyfriend Bucky seemed ludicrous. You knew James or Bucky as he was to those who knew and loved him would never leave Michigan not if it meant leaving her.

James and you had been friends since, well as since long as you could remember. You had lived on the same street, gone to the same schools, played in the streets on your bikes when you were 8, played in the local park between the ages of 10 and 12. When you both hit 13 everyone assumed you would both either stop being friends or would fall romantically in love. Neither of those happened at least not right away. You two carried on hanging around each-others houses, playing video games and watching movies. Bucky had always been fiercely protective over you, his blue eyes narrowing at anyone who dared to pick on you when you were younger. His eyes would light up when you walked into the room, he loved Friday nights saved just for the pair of you to watch cheesy horror films, lounge around his sofa and stuff your faces with popcorn.

2008

Everything changed when you were 15, you and Bucky had always been inseparable, when no one asked you to combined Prom in your Freshman year, Bucky had surprised you. Showing up at your house dressed in a suit and tie with a white rose corsage, his long brown hair slicked back. You walked downstairs in your ballet slipper pink chiffon dress, your locks twisted into an intricate bun, this was the first time you’d worn heels and you nearly missed the bottom step when you saw Bucky in his Grey Suit stood in your living room. Bucky had tried out for the football team and obviously to no ones’ surprise had become the Star QB. As a result of that Bucky’s grey suit stretched across his muscular frame. Once you’d saved yourself from falling face-first down the last stair you walked over to Bucky grinning like a fool. “Bucky, what, what are you doing here? I thought you were going with Sam and Pietro and the rest of the football team” you said. “Well, I couldn’t leave my best girl flying solo at our first prom now, could I?” Bucky grinned down to you. “Besides the rest of the guys were meeting dates at the dance, so I told them I’d meet them there with you” you felt yourself blush at Bucky’s term of endearment. You and Bucky posed for photos for your Mum and Dad, your Dad trusted Bucky like his own son so there was no awkward father stare down there, you even had your curfew extended to 2 am.

The prom itself was magical, Bucky introduced you to his teammates and their dates. Sam was there with a cheerleader, Jane Foster she was friends with the cool alternative girl Wanda Maximoff who was Pietro’s twin sister they were Sophomores but made you feel welcome at their table. Complimenting your hair and shoes. Pulling you onto the dancefloor to dance with them and the rest of the cheerleaders and co to the pumped-up pop songs that blasted out. The way the gym had been transformed was nothing short of breath-taking, led fairy lights strung up in waves from the ceiling, silver stars hanging against the velvet blue backdrops made you believe you were spending the night under the stars. When the music changed to a slow song -Tim McGraw by an up-and-coming artist Taylor Swift. The Group of girls surrounding you soon dissipated to slow dance with their respective others. You started to make your way back to the table you’d been sat at, happy to finally take a breather when you felt someone tug on your wrist. You turned around fully prepared to slap whatever creep had felt it suitable to touch someone they didn’t know but your face softened to find the familiar blue-eyed, muscular brunette smirking at you. “Miss Y/N” may I have this dance?”, he asked. “Why certainly, MR James Buchanan Barnes” you replied chuckling to yourself. Bucky cocked an eyebrow at the use of his full name before pulling you tight towards him. He wrapped your arms around his neck before wrapping his around your waist. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, you and Bucky had never been this intimate, sure still hugged and had kissed each other on the cheek when you were like 5, but this felt different. The way Bucky enveloped you, the scent of his aftershave mixed with his mum’s washing powder he smelt like cherry blossom mixed with sandalwood. You rested your head on Bucky’s chest, closing your eyes deciding to take this all in. A small smile tugged on your lips as you felt Bucky stroke your hips. You didn’t know it, but he looked at you with such love and adoration and his heart squeezed watching you rest your head on his chest the smile on your pale pink lips. Bucky moved his right hand from your waist and brought it to your cheek, slightly stroking it before lifting your face to look him in the eyes. His eyes shone with affection; his eyes so blue like the ocean you felt like you were drowning in them. Then his lips were on yours crashing against your slightly chapped lips, you cursed yourself for not wearing Chapstick like the cheerleaders and Wanda did. However, as the kiss deepened, and you felt Bucky’s left-hand grip on you together and you melted into the kiss everything else faded away. Bucky drew back and looked at you. Your smile dazzling him as your eyes shone back at him. Neither of you said a word as he pulled you back to his chest whilst the DJ played another slow song.

2009 - 2010

Bucky and you dated from the end of your Freshman year right up until the summer before your senior year. Bucky and you had been inseparable for most of your High School life, he even convinced you to try out for the cheerleading squad in your Junior year, usually you sat on the Side-lines with Wanda and Carol Danvers, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to be a cheerleader it's just you were comfortable being “Bucky’s Girl” the one everyone knew without being in the spotlight, however after Wanda and Carol egged you on saying that you had the moves you went for it. You surprisingly made the squad. You couldn’t wait to tell Bucky, warmth spreading through your cheeks at the thought of how he’d be so proud. You decided to keep it quiet until you had your uniform. Jane and the girls had also promised to keep their mouths shut until you’d had the chance to surprise him. So, when homecoming rolled around, and you got your uniform for the first time you went along to the locker rooms where the football team would be heading off to change before the big pep rally. You stood against the wall one foot pressed against it, your knee bent whilst you waited. You heard Sam and Pietro before you saw them. They turned the corner roughhousing one another playfully. “Looking good Y/N” Sam shouted as he clocked you in your brand-new uniform. “looks like Bucky’s personal cheerleader now cheers for us all,” he said walking over to you and enveloping you in a hug. You giggled and at that moment Bucky Turned the corner with Peter Parker a freshman. He couldn’t see your uniform from the way that Sam’s body was covering yours, but he saw your face and started running down the hallway to you. As Sam and Pietro headed inside, he finally got to see the big reveal, he stopped in his tracks for a second. His eyes taking in every inch of your body, the skirt shorter than anything you owned, the top hugging your curves. He ran over to you picking you up and spinning you in the air as you squealed. “I knew you could do it Doll,” he said as he peppered kisses over your head, cheek, and lips. You blushed at his praise. Your Junior year with Bucky was a blur, between the football games, classes, parties’ dates with Bucky you felt like time was rushing past. You Even won Prom King and Queen at your Junior Prom. To no one’s surprise. However, that summer everything changed.

Summer 2010

You were on holiday with your family, visiting your grandparents in Miami. Every year you for as long as you could remember you and your family would spend the last 3 weeks of summer break at your grandparents. You had begged Bucky to come with you as he had in the past, however, due to football camp, he had been unable to swing it. “Hey, I’m sorry doll, it’s just coach said if I didn’t go he wouldn’t consider me for team captain,” he said hugging you from behind as you sat on your porch steps, his chin resting on your head. He had sworn to you that you would text every day and would skype at least once a week for the three weeks you were there. However, after the first week, Bucky’s texts had become less and less frequent. He’d only Skyped you once and you’d get texts from Various friends asking where you were as you weren’t at the latest party. On the final night of your holiday, as you walked along the beach by yourself taking in the last of the holiday feel your phone rang, you looked down it, confused when the caller Id said, Jane. “Hey, babe. Look I’m not sure how to say this” but uh we’re at a small party at Wanda and Pietro’s there’s about 15 of us, including this friend of mine Nat and uhm well, Bucky’s pretty wasted and well after I noticed I hadn’t seen him for a while I went looking for him”. Jane’s voice sounded stressed. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears tried to escape, not liking where this was going. “And uh, oh god I’m really sorry girl, but I, I kind of walked in on them fucking” Jane blurted it out, going for the band-aid approach as if saying it quicker would make it the cut sting any less. You didn’t say anything, you just stood there staring out the black ocean, the warm sand between your toes, feeling your heartbreak. You couldn’t believe it. Your sweet protective Bucky who had beaten up Miles Morales in 8th Grade for standing you up for an arcade date and breaking your heart. “I, I, I got to go my flights early tomorrow. My, my family will be wondering where I am” you stumbled over your words trying to get off the phone as quick as possible not wanting anyone to hear you cry.

Senior year was one of the most painful years, Bucky had met you at your house the day you got back, sitting on the wooden steps to your porch. He looked like he had barely slept, much like you. You were an only child, but your older cousin who was transferring to Michigan State University for his second year had come home with you. He took a look at Bucky and then back at you, you nodded telling him it was fine and that you had this. He walked inside but not before muttering punk under his breath. Bucky winced, he looked at you his blue eyes that once shone with nothing but love and adoration for you, now looked blank, empty, and almost unrecognisable. His brown hair which he had cut in his Sophomore year looked a mess. He started towards you, but you held your arm out.

“Don’t,” you said. He looked crestfallen and his heart shattered as you struggled to hold yourself together. “Doll, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, please, look at me, ill make it up to you, it will never happen again” he pleaded with you, his ocean blue eyes stared at your red brimmed eyes, cheeks puffy and streaked from all the crying over the last 16 hours. “Just don’t” You warned him. “Look, baby, it was a mistake, it meant nothing to me” he continued to plead despite your warning reaching out for your hand. His words hit you like a knife, you two hadn’t slept together yet and here he was claiming this meant nothing. You wrenched your hand free from him his touch burning you with his betrayal. “It meant nothing. It meant nothing!?! If it meant nothing you wouldn’t have slept with this Natasha James” you whispered. Bucky flinched at the use of his real name. Oh, how you wanted to shout, thrash scream at him and tell him you would forgive him, but you couldn’t. You had looked up the girls Instagram that night when you laid in bed crying and you couldn’t help but compare yourself to her the gorgeous read head with curves in all the right places. You started to walk towards your house. Unable to keep the tears back and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, Bucky called out for you, pleading with you. “I thought you loved me James, but it clearly meant something to you, or else you wouldn’t have thrown away two years of dating and 12 years of dating for sex with someone that wasn’t me, we were meant to be each other’s firsts, but you decided you couldn’t wait to get your dick wet so you went and fucked this chick you’ve known for what 5 minutes?” you cried out in anger, Bucky flinched again as if you’d slapped him. “Actually, I met her last year at one of our away game parties” he mumbled, his feet kicking the dirt around his feet. “I think you should leave” you whispered, choking back a sob before you ran into your house slamming the door behind you.

You and Bucky barely spoke that entire final year of school, you had been voted cheer Captain at the end of the summer semester, much to Jane’s approval, and you loved being a cheerleader, so you threw yourself into that as well as the school’s production of Little Shop of Horrors. You cheered at the games putting on your show face and hyping up the crowds. You wowed in the role of Audrey in the show, avoided parties with the football team and buckled down focusing on your exams and audition for the performing arts programme at the University of Michigan. After Bucky had realised, he was never going to get you to forgive him he had ended up dating Natasha. The news hit you like a sucker punch to begin with but after meeting up with Wanda, Carol, and Jane during the spring break you made your peace with it. You even smiled at Bucky in the hallways when you saw each other. By the time Graduation rolled around you had healed.

November 2011

You ended up getting into the University of Michigan on a partial scholarship thanks to your cheerleading and you were enjoying the performing arts programme, the performing arts programme at the Uni had really blown up after the whole viral “A Very Potter Musical” back in 2009 and you were thrilled to be there. You had settled right in making friends with a young lad from your course Loki Laufeyson right away. He was attractive in an unconventional way, with long black hair, a tall skinny frame but he still had muscles. You two had been cast opposite each other in Romeo and Juliet during your first year and had become good friends. You even ran into Pietro frequently he had gotten a football scholarship and couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you on the sidelines one November game. Pietro didn’t really “do” social media and hadn’t paid any attention to Wanda as you had told her, after Bucky’s betrayal you hadn’t spoken much with Sam or Pietro, after all, they were his friends and were now Uni students. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bucky’s girl,” he said grinning at you after the game, ruffling your hair like you were 5 again. You couldn’t help but wince at the old pet name, everyone in the group had called you it, Sam, Wanda, Carol even Jane but you hadn’t been Bucky’s girl for a year, well longer if you take into consideration the fact he’d been chatting with Natasha on and off for the entire year before they slept together. “It’s just Y/N” or you can call me cutie you said winking at Pietro, he chuckled. “How about I just call you tomorrow?” he retorted, you felt yourself blush. Pietro had always been a cocky confident guy, his silver-blonde hair covering his ice blue eyes, he had always been a hit with the ladies, but he seemed that bit more attractive, slightly leaner, still confident but not arrogant. You shrugged before pulling out a sharpie from your bag, you wrote down your number on his arm. He cocked his head puzzled. “I changed it last year after Bucky wouldn’t stop blowing it up with apology texts,” you said simply. Before Pietro could respond you ran off to join the rest of your squad and headed for the changing room.

True to his charm and word, Pietro called you the next day offering to be your personal guide and show you all the hidden beauty spots of the campus. You accepted; even though you had been here for two months already. You walked around the campus and had a great time, you felt yourself really relaxing and laughing at his corny jokes and the way he wiggled his silver eyebrows at you whenever he made a bad joke. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed, and you meant really laughed, the kind of clutched over struggling to get air into your lung’s laughter that the Silver-haired, blue-eyed cutie gave you. By the time Pietro had finished his tour the sun was beginning to dip, he walked you back to your dorm ever the gentleman. However, this time when your hands brushed against each other he grabbed your hand and spun you around. His hand was cool and smooth, a stark difference to Bucky’s warm calloused hands. The pair of you walked back hand in hand in comfortable silence. When you got to your dorm you leant against your door, your eyes meeting Pietro’s ice blue eyes, the almost sparkled. Pietro positioned himself so that he had one hand above your head, the other to your side trapping you between the door and himself. He leant down and kissed you. It was soft and delicate, his cool lips sucking the air out of your lungs. He pulled away winking at you before he sauntered off to join his teammates at some frat party.

That was the beginning of a three-year relationship with Pietro, you two had been on multiple dates, some official, some were just bumping into each other at the same party and then spending the rest of the evening together all through November and early December of your first year. He even came to support you at your Cheerleading competitions. Neither of you had put a label on it, but he had changed his home screen to a picture of the pair of you, it was one captured by Peter Parker, funnily enough, he was visiting the Uni with his photography club and captured the moment Pietro had picked you up after the Wolverines won their 6th game. He spun you around before dropping you down and kissing your forehead. Pietro didn’t know that you had seen his home screen. However as you were both travelling home for the Holidays you had agreed to travel together, Pietro had offered to drive but you had refused. Telling him that it would be easier for you to drive as you would be running lines late and therefore you could swing by his apartment on the way out of town. It was only a short drive to Dearborn but with the extra holiday traffic, you estimated it would take at least an hour to get to your parents. You connected your iPod to the car via AUX and pulled up your playlist you had made for the drive. You avoided all Christmas songs, and you were sick of them they played everywhere you went. Instead, you opted for Taylor Swift, damn she had blown up since 2008.

After about 30 minutes of driving as you hit the peak of the holiday traffic, you leant over to turn down the volume of your music. Comfortable with the pace of the traffic, you turned your head to Pietro. “So,” you began. “What’s up Bunny?” Pietro asked snapping his eyes up from his phone. “Well, I just thought now might be a good time to talk, we’re obviously going to run into a lot of our old friends, and there’s no way Wanda won’t know something is going on here, and I, I saw your lock screen,” you said, you could feel yourself blush, there was something about Pietro, he made you feel like a high school sophomore all over again. “So you were wondering what we are?” the amusement in Pietro’s voice didn’t escape your notice, you could feel yourself getting embarrassed. Of course, he was a college Sophomore, you two had never had the exclusive talk, how could you be so silly. You stared straight ahead focusing on the slow-moving traffic. Oh god, you wanted to die. Pietro noticed the change in your demeanour and instantly felt bad, he grabbed your right hand from the steering wheel. “Hey Bunny, look at me,” he said softly, you turned your head to face him. “We are exclusive, we are a couple, I’m sorry you felt the need to ask, but I adore you, so we are a thing,” he said stroking circles on the back of your hand. You smiled and nodded to yourself.

Almost everyone had made it back for the Holidays, excluding a few people, Bucky, Carol, and Jane, they all had their reasons, but you couldn’t help but feel a little sad that Carol and Jane had been unable to make it back. Wanda was elated for you and Pietro, to your surprise she threatened Pietro and not you. Christmas break came and went all too quickly. Pietro even brought you a small gift even though he didn’t celebrate Christmas, what with being Jewish. He was also very touched at your gift a small, framed copy of the photo of his lock screen, only in black and white except for the ribbon in your hair, the number on his Jersey matching his number painted on your cheek. The next year also seemed to rush by, between keeping on top of your studies, your rehearsals for the play, football matches, nationals for your cheerleading competition. It felt like you had barely any time to breathe.

2012

The summer between your 1st year and 2nd year was a small respite, Pietro had decided to stay in his apartment for the summer, he had a summer job and you decided to stick around after trying out for a local theatres summer production of Grease, unsurprisingly you had been cast as Patty Simcox a cheerleader. “How ironic, my little cheerleader playing a cheerleader” Pietro joked. You just rolled your eyes at him, that night Pietro stayed in your dorm, you were going to have to move out for the summer, your roommate for the year had decided she was going to move into her Sorority House next year and was going home for the summer. You and Pietro were cuddled up on the sofa watching Grease, you had your legs over Pietro and the arm of the sofa. To your surprise, Pietro had confessed he’d never seen it and had asked you to watch it with him so he could see who you would be playing. You let out a sigh. “What’s up bunny?” he asked not taking his eyes of the movie, he was rubbing small circles on your legs. “Student housing emailed me today, they said since Sophie is moving out and going home for the summer. I can’t stay in my dorm this summer. I’m trying to figure out where to go as the apartment I want to rent isn’t available until August” you said, blowing your hair out of your face. “Move in with me for the summer,” Pietro said without skipping a beat. “We’re not going to be around much in the daytime, you’ve spent a lot of nights at mine recently and it’s just for the summer, theirs a spare bedroom where you can store your stuff, and Wanda will be visiting in 3 weeks, it’s no big deal,” he said as he continued rubbing circles on your legs. You stared at him for a moment, your mind racing. “Okay,” you said nervously biting your lip. “Okay, I’ll move in for the summer,” you said again this time sounding surer of yourself. You picked up the remote and pressed pause on the DVD. You and Pietro had been dating for most of the school year, and he had been nothing but a gentleman never pressuring you for more than you were comfortable with, he knew Bucky had hurt you and you still hadn’t had sex yet as a result of it. You stood up a peeled of your jumper, Pietro cocked his head with his cute, puzzled expression. You didn’t say anything, instead, you removed your athletic shorts leaving you in nothing but one of Pietro’s football jerseys and your panties. You walked to your bedroom. Pietro didn’t move. After a few moments of waiting for him to follow you walked to your door frame and coughed, Pietro looked at you. “Well, are you coming or not handsome?” you asked leaning against your frame, so his jersey rid up slightly exposing the skin of your stomach. Pietro chucked his phone on the sofa before throwing you over his shoulder. That night you and Pietro had sex for the first time.

December 2012

Summer came and went in a blur of a heatwave, and lots of sex. You moved into your apartment off-campus, you spent a lot of time hanging out with Loki between classes, throwing ideas back and forth for an original piece you had to work on for the spring showcase. Pietro and you would always ride to games together, with Pietro being in his third year, the team bus rides were no longer compulsory and as the college couldn’t afford for the squad to have a bus you had to make your own way to the away games anyway. You and Pietro had driven home for Winter break, your family had decided to head to Boston this year, that way your cousin could see his family, however as you and Pietro had a game two days after New Years it didn’t make sense for you to fly out for such a short period off time. This was your first Christmas in years where you wouldn’t be seeing your family, or even celebrating really. However, Wanda and her Mum had insisted Pietro bring you home with him for the winter break. So that was how you found yourself sat in Pietro and Wanda’s basement drinking beer and hanging out with the old gang along with some new faces. Carol had brought home her girlfriend Valkyrie, Jane and Sam were there, even Peter Parker who was now a senior was there he’d even brought his girlfriend Gwen with him. Wanda had brought home her Boyfriend James or Vision as he was affectionately known. Wanda was studying Fashion in NYC; Vision was studying IT and was a whiz with technology. You were cuddled up in the corner of the sofa with Pietro, he was playing some game with Sam and Peter and you were scrolling through your IG feed. Taylor Swift’s latest Album Red playing through the speakers. Pietro had groaned but with Sam being a secret Swifty he was quickly outvoted. You kissed Pietro’s cheek getting up to grab another bottle of beer each. You were technically underage for another few months, but Wanda’s mum had said if you were going to drink whilst you were here, she’d rather you did it under her roof in a safe controlled manner.

You heard him before you saw him. Being the gracious guest you are, you had noticed the beer was low in the fridge, so you were restocking it when you heard Bucky’s familiar laugh. You may have made peace with what Bucky had done but other than a quick congratulations and farewell at Graduation you hadn’t spoken since that summer back in 2010.

Bucky walked over to the fridge, you had changed your hair colour since you’d last seen him at Graduation in 2011, your usual hair was now a chocolate brown, you had your head in the fridge still when he coughed. “Hi I’m Bucky,” he said. You took a deep breath, grabbed three bottles of beer and pulled your head out of the fridge, turning around to face him. “I’m well aware who you are, Bucky,” you said handing him a beer. Bucky’s eyes widened as his ocean blue eyes reached yours. “Hey Buck,” you said softly. “Y/N. I didn’t recognise you” he grinned, moving to hug you. You let it happen, standing stiffly in his arms. “Yeah it's been a minute, how’s school, and Natasha, I heard you got into UDM?” you asked shooting him a smile before twisting the lid of your bottle. “Yeah, I did. Schools great kicking my ass a bit and Natasha and I broke up actually” he said avoiding eye contact with you. You and Bucky made polite conversation for a few minutes Pietro finished up his game with Sam and Peter, noticed you hadn’t returned so made his way over to you and Bucky. “Hey Bunny,” he said kissing the corner of your head before wrapping his arms around you. “Hey Buck, long time no see!” Pietro said. Bucky stood frozen for a few seconds processing what he had just witnessed. “Hey, Pietro Yeah. It's been a hot minute, so you two are a couple? You guys look cute congrats. Oh man, wow is that Peter over there? I barely recognise him I’m going to go say hey. Catch you guys later!” Bucky said practically running over to Peter. You turned around and kissed Pietro. “Come on Quicksilver, let’s see if I can beat you at Mario Kart,” you said pulling him over to the sofa.

December 2012 – August 2014

Winter break came and went. Your second year at Uni whizzed past. Pietro even joined you and your family for your annual summer vacation in Miami, your grandparents were getting on a bit so you decided to skip the summer production of Hairspray. By the time, your third year rolled around you and Pietro settled into a routine between school, studying, games and rehearsals you would steal kisses in the hallways, meet one another at classes with hot drinks, coffee for Pietro not that he needed a boost of energy and usually a hot chocolate for you. After football games, Pietro would drive you back to his apartment. If it were a rare free evening, you’d curl up with a movie at yours. Hanging onto the small moments of peace. You both knew Pietro was going to be moving to New York after he graduated. He’d been studying business and was going to start a fashion company with Wanda. You also both knew that long-distance wasn’t going to work, you’d been majoring in performing arts, but you had also been taking extra courses to help with a career in advertising as a backup. Saying your goodbyes to one another sucked ass. You and Pietro had left your annual Miami holiday a week early to spend a week in Florida visiting the Theme Parks, Wanda and Vision were also going to meet you there. Neither of you had grown up exceptionally wealthy, but Wanda and Pietro’s dad Max Eisenhardt had reached out to them a few years back and had insisted on paying for the four of you to have a group vacation. He had tried to convince Wanda and Pietro to book a holiday in Germany where he was living but they had refused. Pietro had already packed up his apartment and moved most of it back to his family home whilst you finished up school for the year. He had been staying with you for the summer before joining you on your vacation so when you headed to the airport it was time to say your goodbyes. “Be good Bunny, don’t cause too much mischief with Loki and stay in touch. I love you my little Bunny” he said wiping the tears from your eyes. You couldn’t say anything, so you just held him tight and cried.

Tagging the bestie @lannycleave because I have promised to write a sad Steve one as a way to punnish myself

Part 2