#i could totally see her nuzzling up against tim's chest and breathing him in with a heavy sigh of acceptance

[timothyslucy]

so, i was thinking about hospitalized!lucy again (you know me) and it got me to thinking about how lucy didn't technically say she was indeed, still in love with tim under that tarp (even though it's pretty damn obvious lol 🤭)... and how neat it would be if we got actual confirmation from her as she's fading into unconsciousness in his arms, like, "you asked me if i was still in love with you..... i am" because she thinks that this is where she's going to die for sure... in her lovers arms.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 7

First

Previous

Sorry the chapter is late my schedule got thrown off by a hurricane

Three days after they arrived in Gotham, they officially ran out of cash.

Honestly, it was a wonder they had even lasted as long as they had. Who knew that rich kids had so much money just laying around? Certainly not her, if she had she probably would have reconsidered rejecting Adrien’s old offers to date to make their fans shut up... because damn.

Now, they sat outside Drake Manor.

Marinette sat, back resting against the gate, playing a game with the baby. In an effort to soothe the kid’s need to fall from high places, she had tossed him a foot in the air and then caught him. Unfortunately, this didn’t seem to help, but it did entertain Damian. He giggled like a madman (mad...baby?) every time she did it and would yell ‘up!’ every time she tried to stop. Her arms were tired. She’d been doing this for what felt like years, and would be doing it for many years to come. Save her.

The only person that could possibly save her was, unfortunately, busy with other things.

Tim was applying for credit cards. He had stuck his computer and phone through the gate to get their wifi so the company wouldn’t be suspicious (Marinette said they probably wouldn’t be but the king of paranoia had insisted) and was now pressed up against it as far as he possibly could, arms poking through the bars to keep working.

“This is only until we have enough money to get on our feet,” Tim said.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Tim, I know.”

He nodded a little against the bars that were pressing against his face and allowed the subject to drop -- for now, Marinette knew it was only a matter of time before he said it again.

“At least one of us needs a job at WE, that’s the only way both of us would be able to send the kid to daycare.”

Marinette stopped tossing Damian, considering, only to immediately start up again when the baby screamed “UP!” at her.

“Probably me,” she said, finally. “The you that lives here is a direct competitor, you might get recognized.”

He nodded his agreement.

And then she sighed and set Damian in her lap because her arms were physically unable to lift him anymore. Damian screamed at her but she just wrapped her arms around him tightly and pet his hair until he relaxed.

When he finally shut up, she said: “You know we’re going to have to wait for both of us to get a job.”

He paused in his typing. “What do you mean?”

“Since it’s WE, they probably have pretty thorough background checks. Two adults that seemingly have lived here their entire lives getting a job at pretty much the exact same time is… more than a little suspicious.”

He pulled his head back from the gate and she wondered idly if he was finally done, but then he just knocked his forehead against the bars. There was a resounding clang that neither of them minded, all of this world’s Drakes were currently at work, and he groaned.

“Yeah, that kind of screams ‘we’re using fake identities’, doesn’t it?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

He groaned again, louder this time.

“I can stay at home,” she offered, somewhat reluctantly. “I can cook.”

He sighed and shook his head as much as the gate would allow. “No. You’re probably going to have an easier time getting a job, WE accepts basically everyone. We need money, so I’ll be a stay-at-home dad.”

Oh.

She smiled a little and looked down at Damian, who was currently petting her hair like she had been petting his just a few moments before. She blinked but reciprocated the action. Damian lit up and reached his hands up so he could get more of her hair.

She leaned down a little and nuzzled her nose against Damian’s.

She glanced up and saw Tim checking over what he had done so far, apparently thinking the conversation over.

Marinette hesitated. If she really wanted, she could just let the conversation drop.

She mumbled a quiet: “... thanks, Tim.”

He didn’t look up from his screen, but she could see the pink tinge in his ears. “It’s fine. I don’t even know what I’d do yet. I’ve only ever had one job and I got it because of nepotism.”

She grinned. “From rich kid to even richer CEO to trophy husband.”

“Oh, how the mighty hath fallen.”

She felt a hand tug her hair and looked down to see Damian pouting, so she started running her fingers through his hair. It was getting kind of long, she wondered if she should get it cut. She didn’t want it to get caught on something, the kid could get hurt.

A thought occurred to her. She glanced at Tim out of the corner of her eyes. “You know… you’re taking my name and I’m going to be the one getting money… maybe you should grow out your hair and I’ll cut mine. Y’know, to really get into our roles.”

He huffed a little. “Shut up.”

She laughed. “Fine. But, really, I think you should grow your hair out. It’d be pretty.”

The both of them tensed at the implications of what she had said. She wondered if she could play it off as a joke… or maybe she should apologize? The blush that had tinged his ears was now creeping down his neck. Was he embarrassed or flustered or angry?

Before she could figure out what to do, Tim’s phone rang.

He fumbled for the phone and pressed it to his ear, successfully hiding the rest of his face from her view.

“Hello?... yes, this is Timothy Drake… yes, I just applied for a new card… I figured I would have a backup in case one of my others got stolen, you know how it is… can I have the card information in advance?... great, thank you!”

He hung up and turned to her, smiling widely.

“We have money.”

She didn’t react how he expected, no playful grin or witty remark or even just a smile. Instead, she doubled over with laughter. Damian whined a little in protest as she threatened to squish him.

He frowned confusedly. “What?”

She motioned vaguely to his face, giggles still spilling from her lips. “It’s just… you’ve been leaning against the gate for so long that it’s made little lines in your face.”

He huffed. “It’s not that funny.”

She managed to get her breathing under control again. “It’s a little funny.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

She opened her mouth to continue the dumb little argument they were having but then Damian yelled: “NO!”

Tim lit up. “HA. He agrees with me.”

She gasped. “Dami, how could you? You’re supposed to be on my side,” she said with an over exaggerated pout.

Damian looked up at her pout for a moment before slowly leaning forward and attempting to wrap his arms around her middle in a hug.

“Oh,” she said softly, carding her fingers through his hair a few times. “Okay, I forgive you.”

“Weak,” Tim teased.

She looked over to send him a glare, but then she saw the fond smile on his face and relaxed.

“I am. Look at him. He’s so cute.”

“Yeah. He is.”

~

Tim leaned back against the bed frame.

Marinette was out at a job interview for WE. He hoped she got it, he didn’t know what they’d do if she didn’t.

But, he didn’t really have much time to think about that. He was on baby duty.

He’d gotten better at dealing with Damian while doing things, it seemed. He had found a position to sit where one knee was pulled to his chest and the other curled close to him, his legs acting as a chair for the kid. One hand held the kid’s bottle as he drank, and the other scrolled through apartment options on his phone.

They’d probably be in an apartment for at least a while. He didn’t know how homeownership was in this new version of Gotham, but in the old one if you were able to afford a house on your own then you were an immediate target for thieves.

So: apartments.

They could probably get away with a one-roomer, at least while Damian was young. It wasn’t like they needed much room for him, anyway, they might even get rid of the crib since it didn’t look like either of them had the willpower to leave the kid in it all night.

Damian slapped the bottle away, apparently done despite only having drank… all of it. Huh, he must have been more out of it than he’d thought.

He turned off his phone and looked down at the baby. Damian looked back up at him, giving that wide-eyed stare babies were so fond of.

Tim cracked, a smile making its way across his face. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his little brother’s head.

“So, kiddo, what do you want to do?”

Damian babbled at him in an authoritative tone. Tim nodded thoughtfully, as if he understood him and was truly considering the idea of whatever it was he said.

“Interesting idea. I think we should watch TV. Sound good?”

Damian nodded, though Tim really doubted that he had somehow managed to say the exact thing that he had.

He pulled the remote out of the bedside drawer and started flipping through channels, looking for something that was bright and colorful enough for Damian to enjoy it but at least semi-decent so Tim wouldn’t be bored out of his mind.

He came upon Monsters LLC and turned it on. While Tim agreed that, considering the way that Mr. Firenoose acted, the company would totally be an LLC, it just didn’t have the same ring to it as Monsters Inc. So sad. The kids of this world were missing out.

At least Damian seemed to be enjoying it. He gasped and pointed at this world’s version of Sully and yelled “KITTY!”

Before Tim could correct him, though, the knockoff Boo said the same thing.

Great. Well. He supposed the kid was close enough. At least there were no monsters in this world for Damian to mistake for cats. It wouldn’t come back to bite them. Probably.

And, so, that’s how the day went. Tim and Damian sat in bed, Damian leaning back against Tim’s chest and watching his movie, a new bottle of milk half in his mouth. Tim scrolled through apartment options on his phone, picking out a few to check out over the next few days.

After a while, Marinette slipped in. She kicked her shoes off, letting them fly in opposite directions, and then trudged across the room.

She dropped onto the bed face down beside the two boys and Tim frowned.

“I’m guessing that means it didn’t go well?”

“No, I got the job,” she said, her voice muffled. “They said I could start tomorrow if I wanted.”

“... then…?”

She slowly picked her head up. She looked absolutely exhausted. “I’m an intern.”

… yikes.

He hesitantly reached a hand out and patted her head a few times.

She rolled her eyes and pulled a pillow to herself so she could scream into it.

Damian looked away from the movie, eyes wide, and then looked at Tim like he would somehow know how to fix it.

… he probably was supposed to. He was the adult here and, supposedly, married to her.

But Tim was a bat. So, he pulled a classic bat move:

“Want to spar?”

“... kinda,” she admitted. “But what about Damian?”

Damian was currently entranced by a movie about… was that unicorn eating trash?

It didn’t matter. (It totally did. What the fuck was going on in this movie?)

Tim smiled. “I’m sure that Kaalki and Tikki can warn us if something is going to happen. Not that it looks like anything will.”

Marinette hesitated before breaking into a smile. “Okay, let’s do it. I’ve been feeling a little antsy.”

He gently picked up Damian and set him on the bed, telling the kwamis to keep him safe for the maybe ten minutes they would be distracted, and then led Marinette a few feet away so they could let out a little bit of their excess energy.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

[ughseoks]

i love you. | knj

— pairing; namjoon x reader / slice of life!au

— genre/rating; fluff / PG

— word count; 1.8k

— warnings; periods (joon buys tampons & brief mention of blood), allusions to pregnancy

— summary; a series of important moments in your life alongside namjoon.

this is a birthday gift for my wonderful, amazing, perfect friend @interludemoonchild​! since it’s her special day, i wanted to write something i knew she’d like. that’s why i compiled all of the joonie drabble prompts she sent me a month or two ago into one singular story! i hope you enjoy, tay :) ilysm!

「 masterlist 」

going on a date with namjoon to an art gallery

On your first date with Namjoon, he took you to an art gallery.

At first, you’d been a little surprised-- art galleries weren’t the most common destinations for first dates. But any apprehension you’d previously felt had melted away almost immediately when Namjoon picked you up, his calm and caring nature immediately feeling like home.

As you perused the gallery, you didn’t share many of your thoughts, the silence of the building settling over the two of you like a blanket. Instead, you moved between the works alongside the taller man one by one quietly, spending more time staring at him than the art itself.

Something about him enraptured you. From the adorable dimples that appeared when he smiled to the way his boots clicked against the wooden floors, you were caught-- hook, line, and sinker. But more than anything, you were awestruck by the way he appreciated the art.

If you were being totally honest with yourself, you could never really appreciate art galleries the way others could. The art was undeniably beautiful, but you’d never had the special reaction that people often talked about-- the one that Namjoon was having. Every so often, he would stop in front of a piece, his eyes growing wide and his breath catching in his throat. He’d stare at it with stars in his eyes, mouth slightly open as the world faded around him, the world reduced to just himself and the work of art.

Without fail, he would look at you a minute later with a sharp turn of his head, apologizing with a shy smile every time it happened. You’d reassure him that you didn’t mind, and you weren’t lying. It was fascinating to watch, and something about the behaviour tugged at your heartstrings.

He’d taken you out for dinner later that night, ears turning red when he accidentally knocked his silverware off the edge of the table with a clang. You’d simply giggled, his clumsiness warming your heart just a little bit more.

When the night was over and the two of you were standing on your front porch, he’d awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning red as he looked anywhere but you.

“I-- I had a really nice time tonight,” he’d admitted, finally making eye contact with you, “Maybe we could, uh, do this again sometime?”

A huge smile had crossed your lips at that, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, giggling when his face flushed completely red. “I’d love that, Namjoon.”

--

sending namjoon to the story to buy things and he’s a wreck, but gets through it with your help

You loved Namjoon. You really did. It’d been about six months since your first date, and you’d never been this happy in your life. Really.

But for someone so smart, he could be very, very stupid.

When you’d woken up that morning to terrible cramps and an almost empty stash of tampons, you’d sent him out on an errand. The task was simple: buy a box of tampons from the convenience store a few blocks away.

It really shouldn't have taken that long, but Namjoon was Namjoon, and he’d apparently never bought tampons before. So, there you were, practically on the brink of death as you texted your boyfriend instructions.

When he finally got home, you’d nearly cried in relief, heart bursting when you realized that he hadn’t only bought tampons-- he’d also bought a pack of Tim Horton’s kcups and a family sized box of honey bunches of oats.

“I knew these were your comfort foods, so I got some,” he’d commented, holding up the grocery bag in one hand with a nervous smile on his face. “I’m sorry it took me so long, I just wanted to make sure everything was right--”

He was cut off with an oomph when you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his torso in a bear hug. Tears were flowing down your cheeks, the fabric of his shirt becoming soaked with the salty drops.

“I love you,” you’d cried into his chest, your heart a few seconds away from exploding because of how much love you felt for the man in your arms, “I love you so, so much.”

He’d immediately dropped the bag and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a gentle squeeze as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too, _____.”

--

helping namjoon cook because he’s a mess

“I have a movie request for tonight.”

“If it’s Wall-E, I’m revoking your movie suggesting privileges. We’ve watched it twice just this month.”

“I no longer have a movie request for tonight.”

Namjoon laughed at the pout on your face, reaching over to ruffle your hair playfully before turning back to the stovetop. It was your second anniversary, and Namjoon had insisted on making you a romantic dinner from home.

At first, you’d protested-- after all, neither of you were very skilled in the cooking department. Your microwaved ramen incident had definitely proven that. But Joon reassured you that he wouldn’t burn the house down in the process, along with a promise to order takeout if his endeavors failed.

The dish of the night was simple, but classic: pasta. All he had to do was boil the water, wait for the noodles to cook, and let the sauce heat on the stove. There was almost nothing he could mess up if he simply followed the instructions word by word.

But alas, he was only Kim Namjoon, and thirty minutes later, you were watching Namjoon dip his fries in his shake, giving him a judgemental glare. If he noticed your distaste for his food combination choice, he didn’t comment, opting to press a salty kiss to your pouting lips instead.

--

playing in the rain with namjoon because he loves it

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

You lifted your gaze from the book in your hands, making direct eye contact with Namjoon as raindrops began to patter against the roof of your shared home. They grew louder and louder as the seconds passed, and just moments later, Namjoon grabbed your hand to drag you off of the couch.

Once you were outside, the raindrops kissed your hair and cheeks as you spun around, a childlike giggle falling from your smiling lips. Water splashed up against your red rain boots, the shiny rubber squeaking with each one of your twirls.

Normally, by this point, Namjoon would have already grabbed you around the waist, spinning you around before pressing a kiss to your rain-soaked hair. But after a few moments, you were still spinning alone, and the familiar giggle of your boyfriend nowhere to be heard.

Slowly coming to a stop, you turned your head in search of the familiar mop of brown hair, only to let out a small noise of confusion when you saw him kneeling before you. His baggy jeans were soaked where they pressed into the concrete, wet strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

He looked ethereal.

“Joonie?” you half-whispered, realization dawning on you as he pulled a small black box out of his drenched pocket. Tears began to mix with the raindrops slipping down your cheeks, your lower lip trembling as you tried to contain your sobs of happiness.

“____,” he exhaled, words barely audible over the downpour surrounding you. He tilted his head up to meet your gaze, peering up through his wet bangs to give you the most loving smile you’d ever seen. “I love the way you insist that pizza is pie. I love the way your eyes sparkle while gazing at nighttime cityscapes. I love the way you listen to salsa music until all of the songs begin to blend together. I love how you take care of me; how you pick up the broken pieces of glass without getting annoyed when I accidentally break something. I love you. You are my everything, I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You couldn’t control your sobs anymore, shoulders shaking as he opened the box to reveal a beautiful engagement ring.

“Will you marry me?”

Unable to form a coherent sentence, you settled for nodding enthusiastically, a grin spreading across Namjoon’s face in response. He immediately stood up from his spot on the ground, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into a crushing hug.

Both of you were soaked from head to toe, but you couldn’t be happier when he slid the ring onto your finger, rain kissed lips moving against yours when you captured them in a tearful kiss.

--

namjoon being nervous about having his first kid thinking he's gonna hurt the poor baby but when he sees child his worries are gone

“Joonie,” you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “Something’s bothering you. Talk to me.”

Your husband let out a long sigh before wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you onto his lap, nuzzling his head into your neck before mumbling. “Do you think I’m gonna be a good dad?”

“Of course,” you answered without hesitation, bringing a hand up and carding it through his soft brown locks.

“But I’m so clumsy,” he whispered. You could feel drops of liquid hitting your neck, your heart breaking when you realized he was crying. “What if I drop her? What if I assemble the crib wrong and she gets hurt? I’m just an accident waiting to happen. How can I possibly be responsible for another person? I can barely go a day without breaking something, _____. I’m destined to fail her.”

“Woah, woah,” you hushed softly, pulling back so you could wipe away the tears staining his cheeks, “Joonie, you’re psyching yourself out. You have nothing to worry about, baby. You’re going to be an amazing dad.”

“But--”

“Joon,” you pleaded, taking one of his hands and moving it so it was resting on your baby bump, “I have never believed in anything more than I believe in you. I know it’s scary-- even I’m nervous that I’ll fall short-- but you can’t give up before we’ve even tried. Once she’s here, everything will fall into place. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

--

“Hey sweetheart,” Namjoon exhaled, extending his hand out for his daughter to grab. She was beautiful, just like her mom.

Her little finger wrapped around his larger one, tears threatening to spill over as a huge smile spread across his face. Suddenly, all of his worries were gone, any trace of nervousness or fear replaced by an all-consuming love; the kind that felt like it might swallow you whole in the best way possible.

With you and your daughter by his side, he could do anything. He would do anything.

“It’s me. Dad.”

「 masterlist 」

© ughseoks 2020, all rights reserved. do NOT modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[ffakc]

A Midwest Christmas - a Jeffrey Dean Morgan fanfiction

Again, I’m aware I’m late posting this. I know it’s no longer Christmas, don’t yell at me. Christmas is one of my favorite holidays and I LOVE writing stories that are based around Christmas.

Jeff crushed out his cigarette and breathed hot air into his hands to warm them. He shrugged his shoulders a few times, almost as if he was psyching himself up.

“You okay, babe?” I ask and kiss his cheek, shutting the car off.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m so nervous! I’m a grown ass man, damn it,” my boyfriend chuckles.

“They’ll love you, Jeff. You know my mom and dad love you already, you have nothing to worry about, baby” I give his thigh a squeeze and kiss his neck deeply. Jeff moans and tilts his head to the side.

“Please don’t give me a boner before meeting your female relatives,” Jeff chuckles. “I don’t know, babe. Dad might not love me after I walk through the door,” he gestures to his Seattle Seahawks beanie.

“He’ll get over it,” I laugh and open the car door. Jeff grabs the box of gifts from the trunk and holds my hand as we walk to the front door.

“Merry Christmas Eve!” I holler from the foyer. Jeff kicks off his boots.

“Hey sweetie! Hey Jeff, what’s up, brother?” my dad calls from the den.

“Hey, Mr. C,” Jeff smiles warmly.

“Oh no, oh no. You take that hat off! You’re in Bear country!” my dad laughs. “Just when I thought I liked you!”

“I knew you’d say something! GO HAWKS!” Jeff chuckles and tosses it onto the bench. My dad jokingly makes a fist. I roll my eyes playfully and ruffle his hair as we head upstairs. Men and their sports, I’ll never understand it.

“You can just set the gifts under the tree,” I whisper to Jeff and give his arm a squeeze. He waves at my female relatives at the table.

“Hiiiii! Merry Christmas! I’ve missed you!” my cousin Amy hugs me. “How’s New York?”

“Absolutely incredible. Every day feels like a new adventure with this one,” I gesture to my man standing behind me. “This is my boyfriend, Jeff!”

“Hi there, you must be Amy? I’ve heard so much about you!” Jeff shakes her hand and kisses her cheek.

“All good things I hope!” Amy laughs.

“Yes ma’am. I’ve heard y’all are super close, and I love that. Family togetherness recharges the batteries.”

“I’m glad to hear it! I can’t think of a single holiday we didn’t spend together,” Amy gestures around the table.

“Have a seat!” my mom says. “Can I get you anything to drink? We have wine, beer, Coke Zero...”

“I’ll have a Coke,” Jeff replies and sits next to me at the long dinner table. I pull a small bottle of Crown Royal out of my bag.

“I’ll take a Coke as well,” I laugh.

“You came to party! I’ll take some too,” Jeff wraps his arm around me and kisses my cheek as I add the liquor to his glass of ice, “It smells amazing in here, Ma,” Jeff says to my mom.

“Thanks, Jeff! It’s a tradition on Christmas that we have Grandma, my mom’s, tacos. The shells are from a tiny little Mexican kitchen downtown, that’s how my mom always did it. I think we’re just waiting on Jessica and then we’ll be ready to eat!”

“Sounds delicious,” Jeff sips his drink.

“How’d you guys meet? You look super familiar, Jeff,” my aunt Janine remarks. I rest my head on Jeff’s shoulder.

“It all started when I began frequenting this coffee shop that opened near my, well, OUR farm while on hiatus from work. I couldn’t take my eyes off this brown eyed manager with the messy bun in her hair who would always ring me up and make my drink. Golly, she looked cute in that apron,” Jeff nudges me and everyone laughs as I blush. “I finally had to ask this pretty young thing out. I invited her over for dinner and the rest is history. One year and some change later and I can’t imagine my life with anyone else but my baby gal,” he kisses me softly. “Oh! I’m an actor, by the way. I’m currently on a show called The Walking Dead, I play the bad guy named Negan. A lot of people still recognize me as Denny from Grey’s Anatomy and John Winchester from Supernatural though,” Jeff smiles warmly.

“I knew those eyes looked familiar!” my aunt exclaims. “Wow, girl, a famous actor? Check you out!”

“He’s pretty great. I thought the concept of soulmates was cheesy til this man came along. I mean, nobody’s perfect, but Jeffrey comes pretty darn close,” I rub his thigh under the table.

“How old are you anyway? That gray beard says you’re old,” my 13 year old cousin Alyssa asks.

“Lys! You can’t just say that!” her mom quiets her.

“It’s okay, hon! I’m not offended at all! I AM old, real old. I’m 54,” Jeff laughs.

“And how old are you?” Alyssa turns her attention to me.

“24,” I link my arm with my man’s and nuzzle his shoulder.

“Sooo, you were 30 when she was born?” Alyssa makes a sassy face.

“Don’t push it, little girl,” Jeff teases and we all laugh.

*Jeff’s POV*

“So, this is the man cave, huh?” I glance around at the fishing poles adorning the chocolate brown wall and Chicago sports gear.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice! It gets cold down here, but the fireplace helps!” my girlfriend’s dad Tim tosses some kindling on the fire.

“Super cozy,” I remark. I haven’t been this nervous in a long time. I had something I desperately wanted to ask him, but I didn’t want to just get right to it.

“How you doin’, bud?” my girlfriend’s grandfather Ray asks.

“Good, Ray! I’m really good, fantastic actually. It feels so nice to be off work for the holidays! Thank you guys so much for welcoming me into your home. Dinner was delicious and the Midwest hospitality is much appreciated.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Tim says.

“This is for you,” Ray reaches into his coat pocket. He passes a CD my way with small writing on the jacket, “To: Jeff. Love, Grampa.”

“Aww, what’s this?” I say, pushing my glasses up.

“Elvis Christmas songs. Something for you and your girl to dance to. You better treat her good,” he smiles his adorable old man smile.

“Thank you so much, Grandpa,” I get up and give him a hug. “You didn’t have to get me anything. So, um,” I clear my throat as I settle into the couch. “There’s something we should talk about. I mean, something I need to ask you. I don’t know, I’m shaky as hell. So, how do I put this?” I pull a small velvet box out of my pocket. “I brought this with me.”

“You want to marry me? Let me go get my dress!” Tim teases. Whew, a joke to break the tension.

“Yeah, totally! I, wow, I’m going to cry. Pull yourself together, Jeff. I wanted to know if I can ask your daughter to be my wife. She’s got me wrapped, man. When I look into her eyes, I just fall in love over and over again. I know it’s old fashioned of me to ask, but I thought I’d do the right thing and ask for your blessing. I love your girl so damn much, you have no idea,” I wipe tears away.

“I had a feeling this would be happening. You kept staring at me all through dinner with this lost puppy look in your eye, like I was going to yell at you or something! Jeff, I see the way she looks at you and it warms her dad’s heart. Every time you speak, she stops immediately what she’s doing and stares at you with hearts in her eyes. I’ve never seen my daughter so happy. Of course you have my blessing.” My heart begins hammering in my chest as my soon to be fiancée’s dad pulls me into a hug.

“Thank you so much, sir! Oh my god, I’m freaking out. Thank you, thank you! So, next question, where’s the best place to propose around these parts?”

“Well, downtown near your hotel on 5th Avenue, it’s all decked out in Christmas lights. Maybe you guys could take a walk down there?”

***

“What a great dinner, your family is so kind and welcoming!” Jeff says as we climb into the warm car. “I love you so much, doll.”

“I’m so glad you had a good time, honey. I knew you would! I love you too, Jeff. I’m so looking forward to the hot tub when we get back to the room, I don’t know about you.” Jeff slides his hand over my upper thigh seductively as I drive through the city in the direction of the hotel. I glance over at my boyfriend and he gives me the sexiest bedroom eyes. I could have just stopped the car and taken him right there. We jam out to our favorite Christmas songs and giggle like kids.

“Fifth Avenue,” Jeff mutters. “Pull over, babe.” I pull into a parking spot and Jeff grabs my face and kisses me deeply, “Let’s go walkin’ in a winter wonderland.” I smile and shut the car off and follow behind him. Jeff’s adorable spontaneity was one of his best qualities. He takes me by the hand as we look at the twinkling lights. There’s no cars on the road and the snow dampens all the sound.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Jeff places his hands on my hips.

“Yes?” I wrap my arms around his neck. We hold each other close.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he pecks my lips, I run my fingers through his soft gray hair. “I tried to come up with a long romantic speech, but words are failing me. You’re everything I’ve hoped and dreamed for. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re the reason I can’t wipe this smile off my face. Every time I look into those gentle brown eyes, I’m reminded of why I fell in love with you all over again. A life without you is a life I don’t want to live. You’re my entire world, sweet girl.” Jeff pulls away and reaches into his pocket.

“Oh my god,” I sigh, “Jeffrey, I-I-“ I’m utterly speechless. Jeff brushes away the snow on the sidewalk with his gloved hand and gets on one knee.

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” Jeff smiles widely, opening the velvet box and revealing a simple, shimmering band. That man knew me so well, it was exactly the

“Oh god, Daddy! Yes! Yes, Jeffrey, yes I’ll marry you!” I jump up and down excitedly. Jeff’s hands shake as he slides the ring on my finger. I gasp with delight, “I love you. Oh baby, it’s beautiful!” Jeff gets to his feet and rests his forehead against mine as we both cry tears of joy. My breath quavers from excitement and the biting cold as Jeff kisses me over and over again.

“I want you to be mine forever,” he whispers against my lips.

“Forever and ever. Oh my god, my heart is racing! You’re so amazing, I love you so much.”

“I love you the most, baby gal.”

***

Jeff and I could hardly keep our hands off each other as we hustled to the elevator.

“Merry Christmas!” the front desk agent calls out.

“You too!” Jeff replies with a friendly wave. I untie my coat as the door to the elevator shuts. I tangle my fingers in my silver fox’s thick hair and moan as he kisses my neck and pulls down my sweater, brushing his scruffy beard against my chest as he kisses and sucks gently.

“Jeffrey, you naughty boy,” I gasp. His large, slender hand find its way between my thighs. “Please, Daddy,” I whine. Jeff slides his fingers down the front of my leggings. He pulls them out just as the elevator chimes, my face goes red as I readjust my Christmas sweater and Jeff fixes his hair as if nothing ever happened.

“Merry Christmas!” an innocent, elderly Mrs. Claus looking woman greets us.

“Merry Christmas to you too!” I reply, the cool air of the hallway hitting Jeff’s saliva on my chest, causing me to shiver with delight. We laugh to ourselves as Jeff opens the door to our suite. Oh, that poor old lady, I hope she didn’t hear too much.

“Let’s see, how about we celebrate with a drink!” Jeff says with a wide smile, slinging his coat over a chair.

“Hmm, how about something sweet? I kind of want dessert after all those tacos,” I wrap my arms around my now fiancé’s waist as he kisses me, his large hands squeeze me closer.

“Your sweater reminds me, how about a White Russian?”

“I am, in fact, the Dude. One of my favorites,” I reply with a laugh.

“Hmm. Vodka, check. Coffee liqueur, got it. Cream, hmm. Cream, cream, cream,” Jeff taps his chin. “Got it!” he grabs some half and half packets from the coffee station.

“Ah, resourceful! I like that!” I kiss him and sit on the bed, “I’ll get the bath ready.”

I draw the bath and Jeff hands me a drink, setting his on the rim of the tub. He unbuttons his shirt revealing his hairy chest and stomach. He kisses me.

“I love you so much,” he says. “Nice ring you’ve got there.”

“Thanks!” I run my fingers down his chest, “My handsome fiancé gave it to me.”

“He must be a lucky guy,” Jeff’s pants come off and he slides into the tub with a loud groan.

“Jesus, that feels so fucking good,” he runs his fingers through his hair. “Come on in, baby gal, the water’s fine.” Jeff bites his lip eagerly as I take my clothes off. “You’re so sexy, you know that?”

“I could say the same about you, darlin’,” I reply, tossing my bra on the floor. I tie my hair up as my fiancé looks me up and down. I climb in the tub, opposite of the rugged older man that I was so lucky to call mine. Jeff grabs my leg and begins kissing the length of my calf.

“When and where do you want to get married?” he asked with a sly smile, kneading my legs.

“Honestly, I’ve always dreamed of a fall or winter wedding. You know how I feel about hot weather,” I take a sip of my White Russian.

“Babe, it’s too hot! This is stupid! Ninety degrees? Ew, fuck that!” Jeff imitates my whining. I laugh.

“You know me so well!”

“Daddy, I have a headache!” Jeff cackles.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” I playfully splash water in his face with my foot. Jeff sputters.

“I give you shit because I love you!” he wipes his face.

“I know, and I give it right back to you, asshole! What were we talking about again?” I giggle.

“Wedding plans?”

“Oh, right. So, definitely a fall wedding. What about on the farm? Ballrooms have never really struck my fancy. That little area off beyond the pastures would be beautiful, don’t you think?”

“I agree, I don’t need a big gala with a stuffy tuxedo to show everyone how much I love you. Ooh! How about under that big tree where we had a picnic and carved our names?” Jeff places my legs on his shoulders.

“J hearts K, yeah, I remember,” I sigh longingly. “That’s where you first told me you loved me.”

“Aw, it was, wasn’t it? You packed us a picnic and everything! You’re just a regular Ina Garten, aren’t you? Remember me yelling at the dogs to stay away from the alpacas? ‘Guys, those aren’t puppies, they’ll kick the shit out of you!’” Jeff laughs.

“Well, if I’m Ina, you’re Jeffrey! Hey, look at that! It works!” I tap my glass against his. “Those dogs are so cute, but they’re little shits sometimes.”

“Oh, absolutely they are,” Jeff agrees. “Wow, that cute barista who I was scared to ask out is going to be my wife? How did I get so damn lucky?”

“You were scared to ask me out? Why? We would always chit-chat back and forth.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why. I think it’s because I didn’t want to be THAT guy. You know, the guy who thinks the food service worker is flirting with him just because she’s being nice,” Jeff rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t get that impression from you at all! I think you’re sexy as fuck, and have since the day I first met you. If I thought you were a scumbag, I wouldn’t have flirted back. And I wouldn’t have had sex with you on the first date, would I?” I tease.

“You’re right. Man, that was a wild night, eh? My heart still beats fast when I think about it,” Jeff grins. “You looked so damn good in my shirt too. Come here,” he holds out his arms and I make my way to his side of the tub, sitting on his lap. He runs his manly hands all over my body and buries his face in my neck, kissing and moaning, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Mrs. Morgan.”

“I love the sound of that. I get to be your wife and I’ve never been happier in my entire life. I love you so much, Jeffrey.”

“I love you too.”

We eventually climb out of the tub, after kissing and laughing and talking til the water turns our toes to raisins. I wrap myself in a fuzzy bathrobe and Jeff quickly does the same. I climb in the big, fluffy bed and Jeff snuggles next to me. He wraps his slender arms around me and I immediately drift off to sleep.

***

“Merry Christmas, gorgeous,” Jeff’s croaky, sultry morning voice rings in my ears like church bells. He kisses my forehead, his scruff brushing against my skin. I squint my eyes at the bright sun bouncing off the snow and flooding our suite.

“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” I curl up closer to his warm body. I close my eyes and bury my face in his chest, “Has anyone told you that you look like Santa Claus with your beard?” I laugh and kiss his collarbones.

“Every damn day on social media,” Jeff chuckles. He moans softly at my touch. I stop and hold out my left hand, my vintage gold band shimmering in the light.

“Just had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming,” I smile.

“You ain’t dreamin’, sweet girl. You’re going to be my wife,” Jeff kisses me and strokes my hair. He climbs on top of me, our naked bodies still cloaked in the beige comforter. He buries his face in my neck, leaving sloppy kisses.

“Daddy,” I whimper.

“Yeah, baby?” I hold his face in my hands.

“Nothing, I just like looking at you. You sure are pretty. What do you say we have a little fun before going back to Mom and Dad’s?”

“I would want nothing more,” I reply as Jeff pulls the blanket over his head and begins kissing down my body. I giggle with delight as his beard tickles me. Best. Christmas. Ever.

Tag list: @negans-attagirl @jdmbbycakes @iluvneganandjamie

[iamwhelmed]

My Partner

Summary: A mission gone wrong leaves Damian pumped with an experimental drug that's half fear toxin and half truth serum... or something like that. Bruce resorts to seeking Jon's help in returning his son to his normal self.

Read it on AO3

Read it on Fanfiction.net

He wasn't sure what happened; he'd blocked out the noise the moment the freaking Batman showed up at the little Kent Family home looking… not like Batman. He'd heard what he needed to hear.

There was an accident. Patrol went wrong. Damian was captured, hurt. He was despondent, awake but not alive and not limp but little more than a doll. Something about mind-control. Something about modified fear gas or something, but Jon had blocked all of that out. Batman was there because nothing had worked.

They'd noticed something was wrong when Damian woke up, 3am, wiping his eyes even though the glassy glaze stuck. Alfred and Dick had been right there, asking him how he felt, if he remembered anything. Damian would have raged around for hours after his failure, lamented to Titus and the cat about how the Son of Batman shouldn't have been knocked unconscious, shouldn't have been stripped of his utility belt or shot up with fear gas; the Damian that woke up that morning only recited what he remembered calmly. It was odd, but Dick decided to give him space, and Alfred offered him something small to soothe his stomach. Toast and beans. Damian-- the spoiled brat who thought the world was supposed to bend to his will, the jerk who tried to fight Superman's super son with his bare hands-- he'd looked Alfred dead in the eye and said "Please don't waste the food. I am unfit to receive anything more from Father."

Bruce couldn't get through to him, said talking to Damian in this state was like banging on aquarium glass and praying the fish could hear him talking. Damian, the Damian they all knew (and cared about and worried about and loved), he was lost somewhere in a sea so thick he couldn't see the hands reaching out to him. Bruce had come to the Kent residence looking for help, and Batman didn't really do that. So Jon knew why he was there, that he was desperate enough to fall to a last resort; Jon was flying at top speed to the Wayne Residence before Bruce could say what they both knew-- Damian needed him.

He wasn't sure how everybody in the family managed to squeeze into the hallway outside Damian's bedroom door. It made the walls look thinner and the air seem thicker, or maybe that was just him. Dick and Tim nodded at him, but that was all the greeting he got. They looked pensive, Tim more-so than Dick as Stephanie wrapped an arm around Barbara's shoulders and tugged her away from the door. Blue eyes looked at him, concern etched across their faces, and he had to wonder if he could do what none of them could-- but he shook his head and braced himself because he had to. There was no room for failure. He winced, because the voice in his head sounded a lot like Damian.

He pressed the door open, and Alfred swept the air with his slow-aging hands to shoo the crowd away from the door.

Damian was sitting at the side of his bed, legs dangling listlessly over the edge. His hands sat folded in his lap, poised and perfect, the way a kid like him would pose for a painting, the kind that hung over a mantle. Jon shuffled uncomfortably, feeling like he was more in line to take a school picture. It was just as Bruce had described. Damian's eyes were glazed over and empty, as if he was merely staring off into space, thinking about something unpleasant. It wasn't the usual grimace Jon oft remembered when red and black would stray across his mind's eye. He watched Damian's lips to see if they moved, but they stayed thin, and shut, and still. He glanced at the made bed, to the covers creased only where Alfred had probably sat his youngest master after changing the sheets-- Damian had tossed and turned in his sleep, left sweat matting into the covers.

Jon cleared his throat. "Hey, uh, Damian." Damian didn't respond, so Jon continued. "Uh, your family is really worried about you, ya know."

"I doubt it."

His heart jumped and pounded like one heavy fist against his ribcage, but settled into his stomach after. "Doubt that they're worried?"

"There's no reason to be." His voice trailed off, and Jon felt the absence of his attitude nipping at him as the words faded in the air, stretched so thin that he rubbed absently at his arm. Damian stared straight ahead still, so motionless Jon could hardly hear him breathing, even with his kryptonian ears. "I am… not worth fretting over."

Fear gas was supposed to bring out your worst fears, supposed to take the things you had nightmares about, the ones that made little kids climb into bed with their parents and you wake up screaming in a sweat so cold the AC felt like ice coating in layers on your skin. It didn't do this, not from what Damian had told him. It didn't make you voice every internalized flaw, and it shouldn't have taken the confident, eager Robin that was his partner and make him a martrying shell. No, not his Robin. Jon pressed one hand to the bed, beside Damian, then paused. Damian didn't say anything, didn't move, didn't look at him, so he took a seat and let their legs brush. "What do you mean?"

Damian blinked, but Jon didn't catch anything else. "I have proved myself incompetent both as an heir to the Al Ghul legacy and as an heir to the Batman. My father has a great many wards to which he may pass his legacy, and my mother is more than capable of producing a child that will not disappoint her. I am excess. I am frivolous, and I should be handled accordingly."

"Handled accordingly? You mean, like…?" Jon mimed a line across his throat with a finger. That would have usually earned a scoff from Damian, but the response was little more than:

"Yes. I am already a nuisance to be dealt with. I would not wish to fail my father or grandfather any more than I already have."

Jon grimaced and looked down at his hands, mirroring Damian's clean fold with a messy, finger-twisting image. He grinded his teeth. "Is that all there is, then? Being an heir to your parents?"

Damian was silent, but Jon could hear a faint skip in his chest-- at least, he was pretty sure that was Damian's chest. It might have been his own. Cold and empty green eyes fluttered, but there wasn't life there yet, not the bursting, narcissistic, fire-filled life he'd known, anyway. "I exist solely to be a weapon, and I have failed. For that, the punishment is death."

"You're not just a weapon, though! You're--" He whipped around to Damian, didn't care that he wasn't looking at him. "You're a brother! To Dick! And to Tim and Jason and-- and me!" He winced. No, no that wasn't quite right. Damian, God, Damian was dear to him, but not the way Kon was, not the way Damian was dear to every single previous Robin. He slid off the bed, kneeled in front of Damian on the floor and prayed that he'd hear that stupid mocking noise, hoped Damian would find the humor in Jon dropping to his knees like he was proposing. He didn't hear so much as a huff.

"You're more than that. You're more than a weapon, Damian! That's not what you are to your family. It's not-- it's not what you are to me!" Fool's errand. This was probably a fool's errand, but then again this might have been a fool's wish, and Damian could call him a fool all he wanted later, just please, please, something had to work. He took Damian's hands in his own, squeezed them, pulled them to his chest where he kneeled and looked Damian in his glazed eyes. "You're forgetting about me, Damian! You're forgetting that you're my partner! It's not just Damian the Assassin or Batman and Robin anymore! Even if you got rid of all of that, we'd still be Robin and Superboy, wouldn't we?" Damian's eyes fluttered again, eyebrows bunching together above his nose. Jon continued on. "You might wanna die because of failing everyone else, but you've never failed at being my best friend, Damian."

There was silence, dead, heavy, like a body dropped over his, like weight he couldn't hold in his chest. Damian said nothing, didn't move. Jon looked into green eyes that were once like emeralds and saw only the smaug of a destroyed forest, and felt his own well with tears. He dropped his head to Damian's knees and cried, silently, between his grinding teeth. He hadn't been enough. Damian, the one he knew like the back of his hand, was lost somewhere in that haze and dammit please let this be a drug that Batman hadn't detected, let it be temporary, let it be a bad guy possessing his best friend, anything at all. Please. Just give Damian back.

"J...Jon?" He sniffed and nodded into Damian's now-soaking lap. "I'd appreciate it if you would cease slobbering all over my pants. These are designer, I'll have you know."

Jon shot up, close enough that the back of his head nearly made contact with Damian's chin, close enough that their noses brushes together when Damian skillfully avoided that collision. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight of his very wet-nosed kryptonian. "What?"

Jon ignored the demanding tone, instead launching into Damian with such force that they both fell back onto his bed. His arms snaked around Damian's neck and securely latched onto each other while Jon took to burying his nose into the crook of Damian's neck. "Wh-wha--! Hey! Get off!"

"Not a chance!"

"I mean it!"

"Good luck breaking out of my arms with that kryptonite you totally don't have on you right now!"

"Which is-- where is my belt? What happened?"

Jon sat up enough that he could see Damian's eyes, once again full of that green loud energy that he'd started to miss so badly that it physically hurt him. He let his nose brush against Damian's again, ignored the heated red clouding like a rash at his cheeks, but reveled in the red of Damian's. "Your dad'll explain." He smirked and nuzzled into Damian's cheek, taking in the smell of expensive detergent and the warmth that seemed to envelop him the longer he laid in Damian's arms. "But not before I'm done squeezing the angst out of you."

"--tt-- Good luck."

Even as he said that, Damian's arms found their own way around Jon's frame and squeezed, like he found comfort in this, like he wanted this embrace just as much… not that either of them were going to admit to that for a long time.

[iphoenixrising]

For 700 Followers!

Hi babe.

That is terribly angsty and now I’m intrigued.

(Just a note for babe not familiar with No Home for Dead Birds or Fracture: I write a scene in which Tim literally has a gun to head. This is not lighthearted angst, please be warned if you read this.)

**

At one time, his colors had been red, gold, and green.

At one time, he’d been part of something bigger, something important. A legacy.

At one time, he’d been able to fly without being afraid of falling.

Being Robin had been the epitome. Even with all the terrible things he’d endured, all the injuries, all the catastrophes, all the insane megalomaniacal baddies breathing down his neck, he wouldn’t have traded the tunic for anything in the world.

(Dick had known it, had known how painful it was for Tim give it up once his Dad found out.)

He would have died with the R on his chest and never had a single regret.

Realistically, he couldn’t have been Robin forever, and he’d known that someday he would have to give it up and either move on with his life as a regular person, or take on another name, another mask, to keep fighting the good fight.

He hadn’t expected Dick would take it without a thank-you or fuck you to mark the end. That hadn’t been in the plan.

But it’s fine because Dick was the first and Robin had been his anyway, right?

Right.

Wrong.

Staring down the .45 in hand, the gun his father hadn’t had the chance to use to save his own life, Tim Drake wonders how it all came down to this.

(Last one left standing. Of fucking course.)

How it had all come out so badly, how he could barely step foot back in Gotham, how he had to avoid the Manor, the Carriage House, his own family home. How he couldn’t pick up the phone or answer texts coming from his former team. How he could barely keep himself the fuck together now that Bruce was back. How his hands would start to shake when the Manor phone number popped up (Alfred). How his mind’s eye would go back to Dick at the Big Computer in the Batsuit, telling him they were still equals. How he would imagine what would happen if he hadn’t caught himself when that zip line was cut. How he would sit in his safe house, off the Bat radar, and mourn the times when he was actually–

(happy)

–part of a family.

The pictures from an old Vans shoebox, the ones he’d taken back when he’d had the run of Gotham, following Batman and Robin (Jason), are burning in the kitchen sink. He watches Nightwing’s blurry face melt away and pretends there aren’t tears in his eyes.

The old memorabilia from Haley’s Circus is in a storage unit outside the city, along with a box that has his last Robin suit.

The lawyer has strict instructions to deliver the key and a letter to his former adopted father, Bruce Wayne, upon news of his death so anything incriminating can be properly disposed.

(They wouldn’t need any of it anyway. They could just shred all of it and wash their hands of him. The Robin that never should have been.)

A map with all his safe houses would be send to Conner Kent, along with a letter of apology.

His favorite nerd shirts would go to Ives.

The sundries in his Perch would be for Steph, and the penthouse itself would go to Babs in case things in the theatre went sideways.

Bart would get a zip drive with all their old shenanigans on video, the only copies left once his systems uploaded relevant data to Titan’s Tower and his electronic footprint would be–

gone.

The box with the Red Robin costume he wore was already sealed and addressed to Jason Todd. The note on top was short and sweet: You were right. It never should have been me after all.

He’d already arranged for his share in Wayne Enterprises to be returned to Bruce Wayne immediately, handing him his family’s company back without any strings attached.

Months ago, he’d returned The Red Bird to the Cave when he was sure no one would be around to catch him. The implication that Robin would need the car one day right there in the fact he’d brought it back because honestly, it was never really his in the first place.

Alfred would get his pick of antiques from Drake Manor, and the house itself would be given to the city to be used as a halfway home for runaway teens. He’d made sure the funding would be there to run it for a few years. The donation was made in his mother’s name.

The hilt molds to his palm, the barrel glinting bright in the night. To his credit, his hands aren’t shaky when he slides the clip home and pulls the slide back to put one in the chamber.

(The team had been working fine without him for a while now. Even if they did need someone, there was another Robin to join the roster and keep them moving forward.)

An abrupt light in the darkness, his phone screen lighting up with a missed call notification.

Missed call: Dick the OG

Ironic since the last time he’d come this far, it had been him calling out to the last person he thought could pull him back.

(Not this time. He has a new little brother, a new Robin.)

Slowly, without putting down the .45, he presses the ignore when the phone starts buzzing against with another incoming call. He thumbs the button on the side to turn the phone completely off without listening to the voicemail.

The clip makes a difference, but the absurdity of it, of the last time he did this, was when his future self was a murdering, gun-toting Batman, and the only way he could see to stop it was to stop himself.

The press of the barrel is familiar, and not in that soothing kind of way.

He blinks, just blinks, and his face is wet, which is really stupid because no one is going to miss him any damn way.

His chest gets tight when he fingers the trigger guard, giving himself the time he needs to do it right. In the final moments, he inanely thinks about the time he was huddled against Dick, right after he'd almost tried cloning his dead best friends in an insane attempt to bring them back. It's really the last time he remembers being held, being warm, feeling like he still fucking mattered. It was Dick holding him tight with restraining, breathing against the top of his head, fingers buried in his hair.

It's when he could be weak while still in the mask, babbling to Dick about how he can't do this, he can't lose them all. He was crying then, too, when he told Dick about his mom and dad leaving, leaving, always fucking leaving. About how he got used to seeing their backs more than their faces. How he was left standing on his own for too damn long to just let it keep happening. He couldn't keep losing them, couldn't keep seeing people walk away, how it fucking breaks him.

And in the here and now, his chest hitches, eyes fluttering, hand tightening down because he'd said...and Dick had...

"But I'm here, Timmy. I'm always going to be your big brother!"

It had been the last time he'd been surrounded by the famed octopus hold.

(It was the last time for a lot of things.)

He laughed, smothered in Dick shoulder, something further away from a sob. "Then I guess you'll at least never leave me, right?"

"You will never be able to get rid of me. C'mon. We're going the hell home and having a movie day. Screw the Lazarus Pit, Robin. It's time for some R and R."

Dick had half-carried him to the waiting Batplane and talked him down out of trying to use the Pit for his own gain ever again.

The first knuckle rests on the smooth curve, a six-pound trigger.

(In the end, they all leave.)

(Not again.)

Conner's terrible mohawk and leather jacket.

Bart racing Wally at a hotdog eating competition.

Cassie running full tilt to throw herself at him when he'd come to Titan's Tower to ask them for help when Ra's was going to kill everyone Batman ever loved.

Raven nuzzling Gar out of plain sight so no one would think she was totally gone for him.

Jason coming to the Tower, alive good God, and the Robin he used to be super-imposed to be his hero and enemy in the same ghostly figure.

Bruce putting a hand on his shoulder on a ride back to the Cave, chasing the dawn, the Good work, tonight tired but sincere, and his whole body lights up.

His mother looking at peace in her coffin, a lily in her folded hands.

His eyes close on the out-of-the-way safe house, the plain beige walls, stripped and soulless. He keeps the team in his mind, the times he was happy.

Now.

Instead of a resounding boom followed by his grey matter splattering his personality, intelligence, imagination, him all over–

the wall to the safe house caves in under a super punch.

Conner is white as a sheet on the other side, brick and mortar crumbling under his hands. "No! Tim. Tim. Put. The. Gun. Down."

His mouth is dry and his brain pan full of nothing but pain and disappointment.

(But you brought it all on yourself, didn't you? The Robin nobody wanted. The son nobody asked for.)

He isn't numb enough to be calm, cool, and collected. "All...all you have to do–" a hitch in his breathing "–is walk away."

The meta floats in a little closer, hovering over the flooring instead of outside. His hands stretch out, gaze focused and intense.

"Can't do that, buddy. Looks like I should have been more of an asshole after all the League of Assassins shenanigans. Sorry, my bad."

Kon knows he's in trouble when Tim Drake doesn't laugh.

"Tim," he goes to serious in about two point five seconds because the hand holding that shiny automatic tightens enough for him to hear the screws in the hilt strain, "Tim. It's me here, okay? It's just you and me, just like it's always been. We’re besties, whether you're Robin or Red Robin or Tim fucking Drake because that guy is so damn cool." He inches closer, wondering if he's fast enough, wondering if he can really get to Tim in time–

Like the former Robin can read his mind, those violet-blue eye give him a blink.

"I’ve always wondered if you really are faster than a speeding bullet."

“No!”

(...as it turns out, he isn’t.)

[secondgenerationnerd]

four and one

           Hey! Early christmas present for you all enjoy!!

Ok, to be fair, Damian knows that he was a massive asshole to his dad and his brothers. Especially when it came to cock blocking them. He mastered the art of interrupting them just before they could get any action. He was an angry, territorial preteen who had only recently accepted most of his family. Now that he’s 17, and has a girlfriend, the universe has decided to get its revenge.

           Irey loves reading. She loves reading out loud to him. He loves playing with her long, fiery hair while she reads. He also loves the way he can see partially down her top. When they end up together in the library, she always lays her head on his lap, stretching her legs out over the couch. Normally they spend hours at a time reading. However… he hasn’t seen her in over 2 weeks. Between both their hero schedules, plus her school schedule and Damian’s required attendance at a myriad of galas and fundraisers, free time is a commodity that they must spend wisely.

           Which is how they’ve found themselves tangled up on his favorite couch in the library. Damian kisses along her jaw as Irey lays under him. Irey laughs, feeling his fingers dance along her belly,” Dames… we’ve got time…. I’m also not doing it on the couch in the library.”

           “Hmmm… I thought you speedsters were supposed to be completely impatient or something like that…” He nips at her neck. He feels the sharp breath she takes, feeling her gripping his shirt, sliding her leg between his-

           “Damian, have you taken a look at-“ Damian and Irey bolt up from the couch. Bruce gives them an almost uninterested look. Surely after three older sons, this does not surprise him at all,” Damian. Once you’ve cleaned yourself up, I need you to look over this report. It’s important. I apologize, Iris, I know you were hoping for some time together. But it’s a child case.”

           “I get it.” Irey kisses Damian’s cheek,” I think my dad mentioned I needed to be back soon anyway. I’ll see you later, Dames.”

           Irey disappears in a crack of lightning, with Damian’s brothers watching from the door.

           It’s another week before Damian and Irey have any time together. This time they’re in his bedroom, Irey on top of Damian. Her quick fingers trace his abs while his bury themselves in her hair. Their shirts lay forgotten on the ground. Damian flips them, pinning her hands above her head. Irey tenses, just for a moment, before Damian slides his hands own her arms, peppering her face, neck, chest with kisses.

           “Dames…” Irey arches her back, pressing her body to his. He wants nothing more than to make love with her until neither of them can move. He adores the way her voice sounds as he kisses her throat, the way she seems to know exactly which muscles to press on, her legs wrapped around his waist as he finally, finally, removes her bra-

           “Little D!” Dick barges into the room. Irey screams, pulling a pillow over her chest. Damian bolts up, enraged.

           “Oh! Sorry! I thought you were alone in here!” Damian sees red. He said something similar when he walked in on Barbara and Dick when he was 11. Given the smirk on his oldest brother’s face, he’s been waiting a long time for this. Damian grabs the knife he keeps under his pillow and throws it with chilling accuracy. Dick shuts the door before it can hit him.

           Damian looks back at Irey, only to find his bed empty and an apology note on his pillow.

           They’re in the kitchen this time. Irey had been hungry and Damian wanted to cook for her. He’d been making vegetarian Dolma, one of his favorite foods from his childhood. At least, he started to cook for her. Somehow they’ve ended up making out on the counter. Damian holds Irey’s hips, her legs wrapped around his waist. Honestly, when it comes to it, Damian would much rather be making out with his super amazing girlfriend rather than cooking.

           He slides his hands up her back, holding onto the back of her head. It’s been too long since they’ve had a quiet moment together, almost a month, even longer without them being interrupted by his family. He’s ready to carry her to his room-

           “Really, kid? A whole manor and you choose to do this in the kitchen.” The young couple looks up at Jason, who reaches into the fridge to grab a drink.

           “Are you all determined to completely ruin my life?”

           “Nah. Just some payback.” Jason smirks,” You know I think I’m hungry. You two want anything to eat?”

           Irey’s treacherous stomach growls,” yes…”

           Damian makes a note to kill Jason later.

 Damian knew it was a bad idea and he didn’t care.  He’d been upgrading a system in the Batmobile when Irey had appeared in a crack of lightning. Irey leans over the window, smiling at him.

           “Hiya, handsome. What are you doing?” she asks.

           “Recalibrating the defensive system’s high-frequency ion cannon.”

           “I love when you talk dirty to me.” Damian laughs. Irey climbs into the Batmobile, looking over his calculations. She’s biting her lip in concentration…

           That’s pretty much how they ended making out in the Batmobile. Irey sits on his lap, moaning and sighing into his mouth as he palms her chest over her bra. He’s trying to keep his cool as she rolls her hips over his, wanting him more than anything. Damian pulls her hair tie out. He loves watching her red hair float down past her shoulders. He busies himself with her jean buttons, ready to have her then and there when they hear a clicking noise.

           “DRAKE!” Damian can’t help the rage that he unleashes. Poor Irey has to jump back as her boyfriend jumps out of the car to attack his brother. This shit is really getting old…

           Damian is alone in his room in the manor, trying to finish a sketch for Irey he’s been working on. He hears her enter from his window, giving him a minute to close his sketchbook. He smiles up at her, loving the way she strolls across his room. She spreads his legs to stand between them, kissing him deeply,” Hi, baby.”

           “Hello, beloved.” He smiles against her lips,” I thought I was alone today.”

           Irey plays with the buttons on his shirt, slowly undoing them,” I know. I might have had something to do with that.”

           Damian looks up at her, raising an eyebrow,” What do you mean? Father and Drake are-“

           “In a meeting to discuss the recent string of hacks into their least covered area… and Jason and Dick are in Bludhaven handling a mysterious case that somehow didn’t appear on the batcomputer before today.” Irey’s biting her lip, which Damian knows means she’s been meddling,” And Alfred is in London for a week visiting family.”

           “Nuri… Did you hack Wayne enterprises and the bat computer….simply so we can make love?”

           “Will you be mad if I say yes?” There’s a true moment where Irey is really worried that he is. The next moment he’s lifting her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He carries her to his bed, kissing her as if she’s the answer to all his problems.

           “I think that what you did is the sexiest thing ever. Iris Anne West II, if I ever leave you, it will be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” Irey doesn’t let him say anything else.

           Irey used to think before they were dating, that any girl to sleep with Damian, would be subject to uncomfortable, rough sex. The first night that they had been together, Irey was shocked to find out he was a virgin too. He’s always been gentle, caressing the parts of her body that she hates with those calloused fingers. Damian held her in his arms, just like he does now, watching her facial expression as he moves in her. He loves the way she gasps and moans, each moment total bliss for them both.

           Irey used to wonder what he would be saying to her while they made love. He’s always whispered in rapid-fire Arabic as they get close to the edge. She learned it was he listing all the things he’d be willing to give up in order to be with her forever. Weird kink but she’s learned to love the soft roll of his words in her ear.

           Once they’re finished, much, much, much later, Irey puts on one of his t-shirts. They walk for a while, about nothing important. Irey smiles up at him.

           “What’s with that beautiful smile?” He strokes her cheek with his thumb.

           “I just… I never thought I would ever love someone as much as I love you.” She gently touches the stubble on his face,” I never thought I would end up in bed with you, lose my virginity to you, kissing these lips that I use to imagine punching all the time….”

           “I love you, Nuri…” Damian pulls her into his arms. He feels her fall asleep, murmuring love against his skin. He dozes for a while, only partially waking up when his door opens. He sees his brothers glaring at him from the doorway, clearly thinking he was the one to send them on their wild goose chase. He smirks sleepily, giving them the finger. He rolls over. Irey yawns and nuzzles her face against his neck.

           The next morning, they find Irey and Damian in the kitchen. Irey’s still in Damian’s shirt and leggings. She laughs as she feeds him a piece of fruit.

           “Look what the cat dragged in,” Jason grumbles pouring a cup of coffee. Irey rolls her eyes.

           “You’re just mad your baby brother gets more action than you,” Irey says matter-of-factly, eating her fruit bowl. Damian smirks.

           “He does not! I get way more action-“

           “Your left-hand doesn’t count,” Irey notes coolly. Damian roars with laughter.

           “I liked you better before you started dating him. You weren’t as snarky.” Jason pouts into his coffee mug. Tim nods in agreement.

           “Tim, you’re just mad he lasts longer than you. And before you ask how I know that, you all should have fewer security cameras near your bedrooms. Or Steph should actually stay the night.”

           “He’s not that great!” Tim protests. Irey kisses Damian’s cheek.

           “My boyfriend was genetically engineered to be perfect in every way, including high stamina. It’s only natural that you’d be jealous.” Irey smirks and walks out of the room. Damian’s brothers look at him in disbelief. Damian smirks.

           “In case you’re curious: Iris was the one who sent you on your goose chase yesterday. My girlfriend is as intelligent as she is beautiful and she is very, very, very beautiful.” Damian gets a cup of coffee and heads out of the kitchen.

           “That little piece of shit,” Tim growls.