#poor robin just wants to go to bed and not be hurt and confused anymore PLZ

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Robin: Dad? Oscar: Me. Robin: Are you busy? Oscar: Not too busy to talk about getting a call from school earlier-.. three hours into the first day of term, no less. [Robin huffed, his shoulders slumping; that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about] Oscar: Two-way street, pal.. you talk, I talk. Robin: Fine-.. what does it mean when someone who’s usually an asshole suddenly starts being nice? Oscar: I guess it depends on the asshole, do they want something? Robin: I don’t know, it’s hard to tell via messenger-.. or any other time. Oscar: [hums] I dunno, I wouldn’t dismiss it straight away but I wouldn’t let my guard down either-.. play it by ear y’know? Your mom’s always saying life’s too short for grudges, but she can be too nice sometimes. Robin: So, somewhere in the middle is good? Oscar: Maybe? Life’s messy, bud.. I don’t think I can give you any definitive answers on this kinda shit. [Robin heaved a weary sigh, wishing he’d just gone to bed] Oscar: Are you gonna tell me what happened today? Robin: I don’t wanna talk about it. Oscar: You can’t just up n’ leave at lunch, what’re you playing at? Robin: Sorry. Oscar: Sorry ain’t gonna cut it every time, Robin. I don’t wanna have to start getting on your case about school, but if you don’t sort your shit out, we’re gonna have to-.. and let’s be honest, no one can be arsed with that. [Oscar jostled Robin’s knee affectionately, he wasn’t really mad, but he wasn’t messing around either] Robin: I’ll try harder. Oscar: No one’s asking you for straight A’s but you’re taking the piss now. Apply yourself or whatever the teachers say-.. and keep your ass inside the gates ‘til three as well, okay? Robin: Okay, okay! Oscar: You better! I’ll pick up a military school pamphlet if you don’t. Robin: [snorts] Yeah, right.

[fe-fictions]

Could we get lonque maybe rubbing a pregnant robins back cause she hurts so much

(Yes of course! Poor little Robin 😭)

When the Shepherds learned that Lon’qu and Robin were expecting, he had endured plenty of teasing. After all, the man who was afraid of women was not only married to one, but now he was fathering a child?

The vast majority of it was wildly inappropriate, but Lon’qu bore it for now. It was mainly because it didn’t bother him that much; he was beyond thrilled that his family was growing by one whole Morgan, and soon.

The only issue was that the pregnancy seemed to be a challenge for you, more than anticipated. Plenty of morning sickness, confusing mood swings and strange cravings had been at the forefront, but there was also a lot more pain and discomfort than either of you realized was going to happen.

So Lon’qu made it his priority to keep you as comfortable as physically possible, given the state of you. When he returned home that night, he set his scabbard at the door, kicked off his boots and coat, and left the snow to melt in the foyer while he made his way straight to the bedroom.

“Welcome home, dear.” You smile at him when he calls your name, finding you sitting on the window seat rather tucked into bed, where you belonged.

“You were put on bedrest last week. Why are you out of it?” He questioned you sternly, nearly glaring at you as he made his way over. You nodded and stretched, though you didn’t make any movement towards your bed prison.

“It’s hurting my back, so I wanted to take a little time away from bed.” You explained, picking up the book tucked beside you. “I tried shifting around a bit, and changed positions a few times, but I just couldn’t get comfortable.”

“Your back hurts from lying in a soft bed?” He looked confused, though unconvinced was likely a better word for it. You held out a hand for him to take, your husband gently helping you to your feet.

“I don’t know why, but my lower back has been aching all day. I ignored it for the most part, but it’s so tense and uncomfortable, I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“That makes no sense at all.” His brow furrowed, deeply troubled by this revelation. “How are you supposed to be comfortable if even a soft bed hurts your back?”

“Well, they never said pregnancy was easy.” You shrugged, but this did not assuage his displeasure. “Maybe I just needed to stretch a bit- could you help me back to bed? It might’ve gone away by now.”

Lon’qu agreed, helping you back to the mattress. He could see clearly the expression on your face was quite strained; the pain had yet to subside.

“Here.” He settled you onto the bed, pressing on your shoulder to gently turn you on your side. “I can help.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded silently, making sure his hands were warm before he gently lifted your tunic and pressed his fingers to your lower back. You inhaled sharply, a soft squeak of pain leaving you until he started working his fingers into the muscle.

His calloused touch was firm and soothing, steadily working away the ache as best he could. You were quite pregnant, so there was only so much a massage could do. But as far as Lon’qu was concerned, he’d be doing it until all the pain went away.

You were like puddy in his hands for several blissful moments. You leaned into his touch, the Myrmidon quietly pleased that you were enjoying the massage. He hovered over you, targeting his ministrations where you reacted the strongest. It did not take long before you were sinking into the bed, nearly asleep from the sweet touches.

“Is this better?”

“Oh my gods, Lon’qu, it’s wonderful. Thank you.” You turned your head back to look at him, beaming up at the sweet sword master. He, naturally, erupted into a blush as he looked away. It was so easy to embarrass him; what a sweet creature. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“It’s not that hard to give a massage.” He scoffed, “It’s the least I can do…especially if it’ll keep you in bed, where you’re supposed to be until Morgan’s born.”

“If you keep this up until the baby’s born….I’ll stay wherever you want me.” You hummed, reaching over your shoulder in search for his hand. “Thank you, dear.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed your hand, smiling softly. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

“I might.”

“Take a nap. I’ll prepare dinner while you rest.” He said softly, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You tilted your head again, prompting another, proper kiss.

“I love you, Lon’qu.” You whispered, closing your eyes. Lon’qu felt the warmth burst in his chest, a dopier smile than he would ever willingly admit.

“Love you, too. Go to sleep.”

His gruff response earned a giggle, the whole room fluffy with affection. Dinner was prepared with extra enthusiasm, that evening (and was enjoyed with extra joy, without that pesky back pain hampering your happiness).

[catxsnow]

OLD WOUNDS PT. TWO

Summary: Dick’s words broke you more than a bullet ever could, it was time to fix that once and for all. No matter the outcome. 

Warning: angst, some swears

A/N: Part two babyyyyy. Wasn’t planning on this but I’m glad that I did! 

Word count: 3.5k

GIF not mine

Part one

It took weeks for your bullet wound to heal. Weeks of not being able to go out on the streets, weeks of being stuck at home, and weeks with nothing to do except for think about the words that Dick Grayson lashed out to you.

You knew that he was being honest about what he was thinking. Dick never yelled at you unless there was a reason and this one was loud and clear. Dick hated you. He hated you for leaving everyone behind without a second thought. He hated you for abandoning the people that you once called family.

And he was right to do so. You left for your own benefit and didn't think about anyone else while doing so. It was selfish of you, and you regretted it. Of course you did, leaving them left you with no one. You had been alone for years. You didn't want the pain of Jason and Wally's deaths leaning on you, or anyone else that you couldn't save.

Those weeks had left you in a mess. Sleepless nights of wondering how different things would be if you hadn't left. Stressing over whether or not you should ever show your face outside of your apartment again. Most of all, you felt the kind of sadness in your chest that never truly went away.

Dick's words hurt more than the bullet he took out of you.

It was what you needed to hear. You needed to know that you hurt so many people because of your actions. The pain that he cracked against you like a whip stung deep, but the true pain came from knowing that everything was your fault. You took his happiness, and you ruined him for years.

Babs, Kori, they were better than you, they always had been. Morally, skillfully, they always won against you and yet Dick wasn't happy with either of them. He was happy with you and you broke him in return.

By the time that your wound had healed, you needed to get out of your home. You needed the fresh air, the harsh punches against criminals. That was the night that you wouldn't mind if a thug got the upper hand on you.

You had left Gotham the moment you left the Wayne Manor. It wasn't fair of you to stick around after already causing so much pain. Home was only a few cities over, you could never bring yourself to veer too far off.

It felt refreshing to leap from roof top to roof top. The crisp cold air woke you up out of the sluggish state you had been in. This was what you lived for, fighting crime and bringing peace to the people. It was too bad that you could never bring peace with your friends, if they dared to call you that anymore.

That night, you had taken down a few people. An idiotic thief, a pickpocketer, a group of men who were getting a too handsy with an innocent woman. The moment you jumped from the roof you knew that you were way outnumbered. There were too many men at once and you were stuck right in the middle of it all.

It was what you felt like you deserved. More punches than you normally would receive, but not enough that you couldn't take these bastards down. By the time the last one fell to the ground, blood dripped down your cheek and your lips. You spit out a mix of saliva and blood and stormed away from the scene.

The rest of the night was quiet, and quiet was what you were trying to avoid. It wasn't until you passed by your old hideout did you finally stop. It was well abandoned now, you hadn't been there since leaving the team. With a sigh, you headed over to the building. The access code was still the same - Dick's birthday.

Dust covered all the computers but nothing had been changed. You spent a lot of hours in that room. Between you and Dick, it was easy to clock in over thirty hours a week there. You spent a lot of time with him there and being inside only brought back memories that you were trying to diminish, not resurface.

However, you pushed on. You flipped the lights on in the room, looking around at everything that you once had. Dick was right, this was your fault. Everything that happened was because you weren't strong enough to be there.

You fingers trailed over the desks and you walked towards the Zeta Tube Bruce allowed you to have. It made it a hell of a lot easier to get to the mountain or the watchtower rather than going all the way over to Gotham. The machine whirred to life, and with a moments of hesitance, you typed in where you wanted to go.

The likeliness that they kept your name in the roster was slim, and you were sure that it wasn't even going to work. However, when you were beamed out of the room and to the Watchtower, you were more surprised than anything. The robotic voice spent chills down your spine as you arrived.

The Watchtower looked the same as it always had. Cold, empty, never home. Mount Justice had been your home for many years when you finally settled from going from mentor to mentor. The team was the first time that you ever felt like you had a stable life. Leaving it and having to come all the way up there? It never felt right.

You didn't realize you were walking towards the large window that overlooked Earth. A smile made its way to your face as you thought about the amount of times that you and Dick would watch from above. You spent hours with him up there, watching, talking, simply loving him and everything there was to him.

Fuck, did you miss him.

The loss of him hadn't hurt you this badly in so long. Seeing him again destroyed you just as much as him. You hadn't realized how much you missed having him by your side, whether it was fighting crime or in bed. You needed him in your life and it had been years since you had him.

"It's been a long time."

"Bruce," you acknowledged. You hadn't heard him come up behind you but you knew the sound of his voice. "I'm surprised you didn't cut off my access. Not very Batman of you."

"It was Tim that insisted," Bruce finally stood by your side. You could hear the underline in his voice though: Tim, not Dick. Tim always looked up to you when he had the mantle of Robin. He copied your fighting style in many ways and had a similar thought process to yours. You didn't know how he felt after you left.

Tim and Dick were as close as any non-blood related brother could be. During missions, Dick relied on Tim to be the leader of the group, he knew that he could handle things when things got tough. You both did. Tim was just another poor soul that you crushed upon your leaving.

"I take it you healed just fine?" Bruce continued upon your silence. You managed to avoid him, and anyone else in the Manor as you left that night. You weren't surprised that he had still managed to find out about your brief visit.

"Physically, you bet," you nodded. This time, Bruce picked up on your tone - Dick had laid a new one on you. He didn't know what conversation went on between the two of you but Dick had been on edge and snappy ever since you left. "Thank you, for saving me. I owe you one - I owe you lots."

"You could come back," Bruce looked over at you. His lips were in a tight line and his eyes couldn't be seen beneath his cowl. The long black cape draped his shoulders and you couldn't help but wish that you too had a cape to hide within. "We could use you on the team, either team."

"It's been years, Bruce," you sighed. I'm not welcome back, was more like it. You felt traitorous to even show up there, you couldn't consider rejoining the team. When the pain of your friends deaths started to dim, you dared showed your face there again? No, that wouldn't fly with half the members of the team. Dick wouldn't allow it.

You couldn't put him through that. He could barely meet your eyes, how did you ever expect that he would trust you again on a mission? Or trust you to have his or anyone else's back? No, your spot on the team was long gone, you didn't deserve it anymore.

"I'm not the same person that I used to be," you continued. Bruce looked at your bloody, bruised face. Beneath your mask, he could see the outline of fresh purple bruises. A small cut dragged across your cheek and although you tried to wipe the blood from your busted lip, some of it was still smeared around your mouth. In all the years that he knew you, you would never allow someone to get that many face hits - this was on purpose.

It wasn't just the beaten face you referred to. It was the aggression. Your tactics became more violent, less with the law. It was hard to maintain a sense of justice when justice killed your friends. Doing the right thing didn't always get your somewhere in life, it got you killed.

Even your suit had changed. Oliver had designed your original one. It was form fitting, covered any exposed skin and protected your from the harms of your world. Now, you showed off a dangerous amount of skin, not caring what could happen to you.

"Dick has gone through too much in his life, I can't put him through this," you pulled your mask off with a sigh. You eyes that once shone bright at the sight below you were now cold and sharp. Bruce could see the exhaustion on your face and how much being back here was tearing you apart.

"I did a lot of bad things in my life but leaving him was the worst thing I could have done. Doing things right by him isn't me joining the team again, it's me leaving, for good. I'm not coming back Bruce, ever," You fished out the device that he had given you and handed it over to him. He never made a move to grab it. "I can't keep causing pain in other peoples lives just to try and lessen my own pain. Leaving for good might just solve that."

Bruce reached into his belt to pull out a small velvet box. He handed it over to you and with confusion in your eyes, you grabbed it. Inside was a ring, an engagement ring.

"Weeks before Jason died, Dick was going to give this to you," Bruce told you. Tears stung your eyes and your throat tightened up. It had been just over three years that the two of you were dating before Jason died. "He wanted Jason to be one of his groomsmen., Wally to be his best man."

"Why are you telling me this?" You didn't want to hear about how you ruined his plans for his future. You didn't want to know that Dick loved you enough that he wanted to marry you. The reality of how much you hurt him amplified.

"Running from your problems was what caused this in the first place," Bruce didn't accept the ring or the beacon as you tried to hand both back to him. "Dick and I don't always see eye to eye on things, but we both knew that you were good for him."

Bruce said nothing else to you. He glanced down at the items in your hand once more before leaving. The velvet box in your hand seemed to be burning a hole into it. The idea of marrying Dick would once excite you, bring you joy about your future with him because at one point he was your future. Now? Now all you could feeling was the unwelcoming pain of shame.

"Fuck," you muttered. You crouched down, the ring box pressed to your forehead as you tried to decipher your thoughts. Dick was the love of your life all those years ago and you truly fucked that up. No greater mistake could have been made on your behalf. "Fuck."

Why hadn't you just stayed? Why did you have to make the unwise choice of leaving for your own benefit? To pull yourself away from the people that you cared about so that if they ever got hurt you wouldn't have to feel heartbreak? Where did that get you? At home, miserable because you had no one. Miserable because you knew that just as much as you missed your friends, they missed you more.

All this time you thought that you left to avoid the pain, but being back here? That hurt you more than all those years away. The reminder that you once had people that would trust you with their life, that wanted to spent their life with you. Now, you had no one. No one would be willing to take a misfit like you back into their life, not after they had just gotten back to where they were before you left.

Maybe it would have been easier to not have pressed that beacon. Maybe it would have been easier to let those men take you. Whatever pain that they would have inflicted upon you had to have hurt less than what you were feeling now. Emotional pain never went away, physical wounds healed.

You wanted to apologize to Dick. You wanted to tell him how you really felt about these past years but you knew he wouldn't stay long enough to hear you out. Hell, you didn't even have a way of contacting him. The device in your hand suddenly felt heavy. You had one way of getting him to come to you.

"Fuck," you repeated one last time. With the ring weighing you down in the other hand, you pressed the button. Who knows if he would even come but you needed to see him once more. If he truly wanted you out of his life, you would heed to his words - trying to force your way back in wasn't going to be fair to him.

You stood there and waited. The Earth below you was cascaded with darkness as the sun had been on the other side. Darkness of the world seemed to be no less dark than you.

Your heart raced as you heard the animated voice - someone was arriving in the zeta tube. You stood there, still facing the large window that cast into space. Being all the way up here made everything down there feel impossible irrelevant. All the problems that you had within the planet seemed to disappear.

"Why are you here?"

Dick. You turned to face him, unsure of what you wanted to say. There were so many things racing through your head and none of them seemed good enough to even sightly make up for what you did. Nothing you could say would ever make up for it, but you hoped that maybe Bruce was right, maybe there was hope for redemption.

The anger that was on his face fell to one of worry as he saw the state of your face. The bruises that covered your jaw, cheeks, and the blood that had dried up on your skin. No matter how angry he ever was at you, even when you were still here, he was always concerned with your safety first.

"What happened?" He changed his statement. Dick stood at your side, his hand reaching up to look over what was wrong. No matter how tender his touch was, you couldn't help but flinch away. You didn't deserve his comfort. Dick's hand dropped back down to his side.

"Nothing I didn't deserve," you assured. He was in his civilian clothes, but he looked tired. Bags were under his eyes, his shoulders drooped while his hands were in his pockets. "I know you don't want to see me, but I wanted to talk with you."

"I'm here," Dick surmised. That was enough to tell you that though he didn't want to be there, he would listen to what you had to say. However, his gaze went from your face down to your hands, he recognized the small box in your hand. "Where did you get that?"

His voice became harsh. So harsh that you winced and cowered back. Wish shaky hands, you handed him the ring. "Bruce," you answered. "Dick I could apologize to you a thousand times and it would never be enough to make up for what I did, I know that. I could announce to the whole world that I'm a fuck up and that I deserve to be frowned upon and that wouldn't come close to enough.

"Fuck, I know that there is nothing in this world that can make up for my mistakes. What I did, to you, the rest of the team, it was awful of me. I know that. I shouldn't have left but you were right: I am weak. I was too weak to face my fears so I ran. If I would have known better, I should have ran to you instead of away, but I didn't.

"It's too late to change things, to change what I did. I just hope that one day that you won't have to look at me with that same anger in your eyes that you have right now." You played with the small velvet box between your fingers. With a sigh, you handed it back over to him. "You deserve a happy life Dick, and after all of this, the life shouldn't have to include me."

Dick grabbed the ring from you. "I bought this less than a year after we started dating," Dick finally spoke after a long moment of silence. You couldn't tell what he was thinking. "I knew I wanted to marry you. After being friends for so long, I couldn't picture myself with anyone else. You were always the one."

"I'm sorry I ruined that," you sighed. You looked down at the mask that you held in your hands. It was the one that Dick got you when you first joined the team. Even if your costume changed, you couldn't bare to part with it. Reluctantly, you handed that over to him as well. He smiled a little as he held it.

"I came to say goodbye, Dick," his gaze abruptly shifted from the mask, to your bruised eyes. "I put you through too much in this lifetime, I can't keep doing this to you. I figured after all this time, a proper goodbye would do us good. I understand that you don't want me here anymore, I understand no one does."

"I never said that," Dick cut you off. "I never said I didn't want you here. It wasn't fair of me to blow up at you the other night, I'm sorry for being so reactive but I'm not sorry for what I said. You left us, you ran away, but if you truly want to make things right, then you need to stop running.

"You want to make up for everything that you've done? You work your ass off here, on this team. You lead the kids to make the right choices and not to make the same mistakes that you did. That's how you earn my forgiveness, that's how you make things right with the team, with your friends."

Your head hung low. "If you want me to stay, I'll stay. If you want me to leave, I'll leave. Whatever choice you make, I promise you with my life that I will stick with it."

There was another silence between you. Dick's gaze turned away from you and towards the window. "We spent a lot of hours here, looking down at the world that we give our lives to protect. Couldn't bring myself to spend a lot of time here after you left," He honestly told you. Dick handed your mask back to you. "I'm tired of seeing you walk away."

"Then I won't. Ever again," You grabbed your mask from his hand. The same calloused hands that would cup your face when you were feeling scared, the ones that would grab your own hands when you needed comfort, the ones that fought against so many people to protect you.

"Dick, I-" you cut yourself off with a staggered breath. You wanted to tell him so many things: I love you, I never stopped missing you, I want to be yours again. You couldn't. If Dick ever wanted you back again, it would have to be on his terms, not your own. You didn't even know if he ever wanted that.

It didn't matter though. You would live a lifetime in pain just to make him happy for even a second.

"I'm glad to be back."

tagged: @gotta-get-back-to-johnlock​ thanks for getting me to do a part 2!

[chaolie]

Hands you 3.5k words of Robin angst no one ever asked for 

:] 

I shall now go back to being absent and sitting there with 10 WIPs I really want to finish but just CAN'T- Anyway, have fun with the angst!

Warnings: Character death & blood

=============================

Robin’s life wasn't too easy at first, and it was painfully obvious to see. Even his earliest memory was bad, after all. He was peacefully lying in his bed, half-asleep when his father walked into his room and gently sat down on the boy’s bed. The man was trembling slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by the kid. They sat in silence for what felt like forever before the adult turned to look at Robin.

“Robin…” he said the boy’s name softly, but his voice was hoarse. Slowly, the kid sat up and rubbed his eyes before focusing on his father again. “Your mother… she won’t be coming back anytime soon, son. She’s…” the man paused for a moment, collecting himself. “If Jimmy bothered to find a real doctor, she’d… She’s not here anymore, Robin.”

The man looked over to his son, a young child who should not remember this moment in the future. He watched the confused boy rub his hands, not knowing what to say and probably not understanding what the man meant. Again, it felt like ages has passed before the man got up and gently pushed the kid back onto his bed.

“Go back to sleep and don’t worry about this,” he said. He was sure Robin would forget this conversation soon. But he didn’t. Somehow, the memory stuck with him, even if he didn’t get it at first. Because he was just a kid, he didn’t know what death was, he didn’t know where his mother went, he didn’t know why his father grew so grim after that night, he didn’t know anything… but as time went on, he learned. He slowly pieced the story together and figured out what dying meant long before a child should.  Years passed and once again, the boy lied in his bed and tried to fall asleep when his father walked in and hesitated before sitting in the very same spot he picked when announcing his wife’s death. This time Robin didn’t wait before sitting up and looking at him. The man sighed before putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Robin, I… Dad’s going away for some time,” he said, avoiding eye contact with him.

“...Why?” the boy asked hesitantly.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back soon, I promise,” the man said. Robin knew better than to ask more questions.

“Okay,” he nodded.

And just like the other night, the man got up and tucked his son into bed again. Robin watched helplessly as the man left the room before curling up under the covers. Little did he know, this was the last time he ever got to see his father. Only the next day he found out that he left to fight a war and only next month he learned that the battle was won, but at the cost of his father’s life.

During that week of blissful unawareness, the boy took up medicine. He was worried that his father would be injured when he gets back and he remembered well the man complaining about the lack of doctors in the village. He went around, learning from everyone willing to talk. He learned about different plants from Jack, the local farmer, and he memorized different medicines and more expensive ways of helping hurt people with the help of Miles Memeington, who was rich enough to afford books about those topics. Cornelious, his neighbor, also explained how to aid hurt people in everyday activities, basing his knowledge on his own experiences with his blind partner, so Robin felt ready to help his father through whatever happened to him during the war.

Only to find out that he’d never return.

He survived a surprising amount of time as an orphan. He had no source of money, of food, of clean water, of clothes, of… anything, really, but he still managed to get through it. He stole from the local people, he taught himself how to make clothes out of old sheets, and he had his medical knowledge in case he’d ever get hurt. He even survived the winter, spending most of the time either in his house, just barely keeping himself warm, or at his neighbors’ place when things got too cold and they insisted to house him for the nights at least. Sure, he lost a lot of weight during that time of the year, but he was still alive, and that was all that counted.

When spring came and the weather got warm again, he admittedly grew more careless. It was one less thing to worry about, he could finally play outside again, and he took that opportunity. He almost felt like a kid again, a hint of a smile appeared on his face for the first time in forever and he almost laughed to himself until he tripped and fell, hitting a couple of stones.

His knee was suddenly covered in blood and he was in pain, with no parent to come over, pick him up and cover it for him. He had to slowly pull himself up and stumble back to the town on his own. He had no bandages left either, no way to stop the bleeding on his own. But he knew who always had medicine, Miles. Arguably, the man was able to afford more than the mayor himself sometimes, and if he just wanted to become a doctor instead of a ‘steak censor’ he easily could, but Robin had no say in this.

After he decided to ‘borrow some things’ from the man, everything happened fast. Just moments after opening the chest, he was held up by his collar. Then, he was outside, dragged over to the fireplace. Suddenly, all the town’s folk were there and everyone was arguing and yelling. He tried to explain himself, but his quiet voice was nothing against the angry people’s ears and his words disappeared somewhere, buried under the accusations everyone threw at him.

When everything was quiet again, he stood in front of the prison cell with just the mayor behind him. He knew well what that thing really was, how with a simple pull of the lever the floor disappeared and people died. He watched his father and Bob build it together, and against his old man’s wishes he snuck out and witnessed the first execution himself, he knew what would come next.

Slowly, Jimmy led him forward and helped him to keep balance, with his hurt knee still not taken care of, until he made it past the door into the tiny room. It was even smaller than the orphan originally imagined. Sure, it looked tiny from the outside, but looking at the whole world through iron bars made it feel far, far smaller.

“So…” the mayor said quietly, trying to act casual. Still, putting a literal kid in the prison was probably the worst thing he ever had to do so far. “H-how does it feel in there, boy? How do you feel?” the man asked hesitantly. He had no idea that Robin knew what the building was, he just hoped to have a normal conversation before he’d have to pull the lever.

Robin backed up into a corner of the cell, hugging himself and leaning against the wall to take some pressure off his leg. He didn’t dare look the mayor in the eyes as he shuddered, biting back tears. He didn’t want to cry, but he was so scared, so goddamn scared…

“I-it’s nice,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “I- I feel closer to my parents,” he tried to force a smile. Hearing that answer made the mayor freeze. That poor child… Jimmy didn’t even close the door yet when someone approached him from behind, clearing their throat to get the mayor’s attention. Quickly, the man turned around and looked at the person behind him… Cornelius. For a moment, he considered explaining why the door was still open, but before he could even excuse himself, the newly-arrived man spoke.

“You don’t have to do it, Jimmy. We reached an agreement with Miles, the kid can stay,” he said. He spoke confidently and the mayor didn’t even consider the idea of the man bluffing.

“...Stay, and go where exactly?” he asked instead of arguing. Maybe because he trusted the man, maybe because he really didn’t want to kill a child.

“He’ll go with me for now,” the man answered. The mayor just nodded before stepping back into the cell and helping the trembling boy out of it. Robin was terrified, here at least he knew what would happen.

“Do what Cornelius tells you to, Robin,” Jimmy instructed, stepping back to close the empty jail and leaving the child at the other man’s mercy.

“Hey, Robin,” Cornelius said in a surprisingly soft tone, crouching down to get to the boy’s level. The kid just looked at him, still trembling. “It’s okay. Just come with me,” he said, gently taking the boy’s hand and getting back up to lead him.

Robin was filled with nothing but fear as he stumbled after the man. They walked slowly, so his knee didn’t hurt that much, but the suspense made the boy’s stomach turn as he wondered where he was being taken to. He always thought that his neighbors liked him to at least a degree, but now that he was probably about to die, he seriously doubted that idea. Finally, they reached their destination. Cornelius’ house.

“I’m home,” the man called out as he opened the door, leading the orphan inside. The house was dark, so it took the boy a moment to notice the man’s partner sitting on the bed in the corner. “With Robin,” Cornelius added.

“That’s great,” the blind man answered with a soft smile. “Robin, can you come here?” he asked, holding his hand out. The boy looked up at Cornelius, who nodded as an answer.

“Go ahead,” he said, letting go of his hand. Slowly, Robin stumbled over and took the other man’s hand. “You two stay here, I need to talk to Miles again,” the man said once Robin made it over to the bed and, with no further explanations, left the house.

“Do you want to sit down?” the blind man offered once his partner left. Hesitantly, Robin nodded.

“Y-yes, please. My knee hurts,” he answered faintly. The man helped him up onto the bed before getting up and walking to the other side of the house and grabbing some cloth. He knew exactly where it was, luckily.

“Others told me you were hurt. Do you know how to cover the wound with that?” he asked, handing the boy the cloth. The child took it into his trembling hands and looked it over.

“Y-yes, thank you,” he muttered, quickly getting to work. The man smiled, sitting back down next to him and patiently waiting. “...W-what will happen to me?” Robin asked once he was done. The man turned to him with a confused expression.

“Did Cornelius not tell you?” he asked. Robin shook his head.

“N-no, he just said he made a deal w-with Mr. Memeington. I-I don’t know what t-they agreed to do,” he stuttered out. The man nodded slowly with a faint smile.

“Okay, I can explain it to you, then. We agreed to buy the supplies you touched and pay him more than usual, in exchange he promised to drop the topic and forget what you did,” the man said as if it was a normal thing. But no, it was not a normal thing, it was unimaginable, especially for Robin.

“...Why?” the boy asked slowly. What did they want in exchange from him? He had nothing…

“Well, I and my partner are growing concerned about you, Robin. So we decided that you should be staying with us, for now at least,” the man explained. Once again, his words felt out of this world and Robin wondered if this was all a dream.

“...So you’re… a-adopting me…?” he asked quietly. The man smiled upon hearing that.

“You could say so, yes. Are you okay with us doing so?” he asked. Robin nodded so quickly and eagerly that the bed moved slightly as he did.

“I-I am! I…!” he answered quickly, as if he was afraid that they’d change their minds.

“It’s settled, then. Welcome home, son,” the man said. Those words were like a melody, like a promise of a better tomorrow, and boy was it better.

Robin stayed with his new parents for a little over a year, and he looked far better than before. He wasn’t going around hungry and dirty anymore, he had new, pretty clothes and a beaming smile on his face. He still avoided some people, especially Miles, but he was clearly recovering and finally, he was a kid again. A kid with two loving parents and with a home filled with love. It still felt like a dream sometimes, but he was too happy to care. He just wished he could have this life forever…

As the spring was coming to an end and the summer almost began, his parents allowed him to stay in his old house again. The buildings weren’t too far from each other and Robin really enjoyed cleaning it up and re-decorating it, so they saw no reason to stop him. He was a growing kid too, so he needed more space. And after over a year, he finally trusted that the couple wouldn’t leave him in his sleep so he felt safe staying a house over as well. Just a week after he moved there, he was woken up by a commotion near the well.

“Who could ever do that?!”

“How did this happen?!”

“Oh god, so much blood…”

“Did anyone see anything?!”

The boy quickly dressed himself before joining the crowd and trying to make sense of their yelling. At first, he thought it feels better when they aren’t yelling at him, but just moments later he saw his blind father in the middle of the gathering, his head down in shame and blood on his hands.

“T-they killed him right in front of me, but… but they said nothing. I don’t know who…” he said quietly.  As Robin walked closer, he noticed something else. Bloodied and still, there lied his other dad, resting on the covers he must’ve been carried over on. He wasn’t breathing and didn’t show any signs of life, but the blood on his chest seemed fresh. Still unnoticed by anyone else, Robin stumbled over to him and grabbed his hand, his limp and bloodied hand. The hand that usually tucked him to sleep or playfully ruffled his hair was suddenly growing colder, and it felt… wrong.

“...Dad?” he said faintly, still expecting an answer.

Those quiet words were enough to get someone to notice him, and just like that things got as fast as the day he got caught stealing. Some of the questions and accusations were now thrown in his direction as he backed away, trembling already.

“His hands are bloodied too!” someone, he truly didn’t catch it, yelled.

“I- I just got here-” he tried to explain himself, but everyone was accusing him already.

“Lay off, the kid did nothing wrong!” he could hear his father arguing, but his statement was lost somewhere in the argument.“Someone had to do it!”

“He’s just a kid!”

“Maybe they worked together?!”

“He knows medicine, he surely knows how to kill!”

“Why did you kill him?!”

Accusations were thrown around and suddenly, there he was, in front of the jail again, side-to-side with his father, the only living one. People were still arguing as Robin found himself leaning against the only father figure he had left. The blind man’s hand found its way to his shoulder and his ever-so-gentle voice reached the child’s ears.

“You’ll be fine, Robin. You’ll be okay,” he said, and even though he wasn’t too certain of that, at least he sounded confident. And the boy believed him, he took those words to his heart and trusted them.

“A-are you sure?” he stuttered out. The man nodded.

“I am. I promise, nothing will happen to you.” And just a minute later, they were torn from each others’ sides. And what are an orphan and his blind parental figure against a village filled with people drove feral by fear? What are the little boy’s pleas against their deaf ears? Nothing, nothing at all, so Robin could do nothing as he watched his father being pushed into the small room with the doors closed right behind him. And suddenly, all the sounds felt far away from him.

Suddenly, no one was holding him back and he found himself at the jail’s door, reaching through the bars and crying. Did he break free or did they let him go? He didn’t know and didn’t care. His father somehow found his way to the bars and took his hand, rubbing it gently. Despite everything, the man was smiling through his tears.

“You’ll be okay, Robin,” he said again. And suddenly, he fell through the floor. Robin heard him scream, but the sound soon went quiet. Everything went quiet, actually. Everyone stopped their arguing to watch the small orphaned child stare at where his last parental figure just stood. And some of the villagers felt shame. Some tried to approach him, some tried to get him away from the prison, but he just wouldn’t budge. He stayed in his place, staring. Why would he go anywhere, after all? He just had everything taken from him.

He spent the whole day there and he slept leaning against the cold iron door of the jail that night. He barely moved from his spot. In the morning, the blood on his hands dried and so did most of his tears. Throughout the night, no one left their house, it was only him outside, no one got attacked or hurt, so… why did everyone approach him again?

“Nobody died… Was he here all night?”

“The wounds on Cornelius’ body… two people must’ve done it.”

“It was him and his father, wasn’t it?”

“He was left with no one to help him kill, no wonder he’s so scared!”

“Once he recovers, he’ll kill again, won’t he?!”

“Of course he will!”

“We need to execute him before he can kill us all!”

Why was everyone yelling? Why wouldn’t they leave him alone? He didn’t hurt anybody, he knew that, Robin knew that… When everyone got quieter, the mayor knelt down in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder, getting his attention.

“Robin. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” the man asked. Slowly, the boy shook his head. He didn’t want to talk anymore, to anyone.

In a flash, he was inside the jail, everyone watching him through the bars and the door. Just like a year earlier, he hugged himself and avoided eye contact. Some people tried to pressure him into admitting to the crime he didn’t commit, and some tried to comfort him. But among all the voices speaking to him, one question stood out.

“How does it feel?” the mayor asked. This time he didn’t sound sad or merciful, he sounded angry… Robin looked up and dared to lock eyes with the older man. And just like his father, he smiled through the tears.

“...I feel the closest to my parents I’ve ever been,” he answered. And just like last time, the statement was shattering to hear, but Jimmy didn’t even get to consider letting the boy go, because someone already pulled the leaver.

And just like that, it was over.

The villagers quickly left, and by the next dawn, just two people were left standing. Two murderers who, by killing just one more person that night, managed to outnumber the other villagers. And with no one left, Jack and Bob left the city in rush, hoping to be away before anyone finds the village they singlehandedly destroyed.

A week or so later, someone strangely familiar found it, empty, silent, and abandoned. They soon found the mayor’s notes and from them found out about how their partner and son the local blind man and the orphan were both executed after being accused of causing his Cornelius’ death. And that’s all they needed to know before leaving the town as well, to never look back.

Robin’s life never got easier, had it?

[iselsis]

Unholy Matrimony 1

Summary: When Tim Drake presents as an omega, his parents decide to get the only use they can out of him by marrying him off. To Bruce Wayne.

Tim’s head spun as he closed the door behind him and dragged himself the remaining distance to his bed. It almost seemed like too much effort, since he had a perfectly hospitable pile of dirty laundry right… everywhere, and he would be perfectly comfortable on the floor.

Mom and Dad are coming in tomorrow, though, he reminded himself. His parents, especially his mother, wouldn’t abide by him sleeping on the floor because he was too sick to get all the way to his perfectly serviceable bed.

He dropped face-first onto his mattress with a groan. Was it really worth the effort of turning his face? At least suffocating would put him out of his misery.

It had been a mistake not to come home immediately when he’d started to feel bad, but the Gotham night sky had been such a perfect aesthetic, and Tim had wanted to see if Robin was going to turn up and join Batman. He hadn’t for a few days, but Tim hadn’t seen him get injured, and normally Robin helped Batman every night during the summer. In the end, it had cost him a grueling walk to the bus station once he’d finally realized that he was seriously getting sick, and another grueling walk from the bus station to his house.

He did, eventually, roll onto his side and pull off his camera bag, which landed with a padded thud on the floor next to him, before drifting off to sleep.

Tim was snatched roughly from sleep and his bed by strong hands. The world spun in a fog of blurry shapes and the scent of angry alpha, and a haze of an unfamiliar sweet smell. The biggest blur in front of him shook him furiously.

“What the hell is this!”

Tim blinked a few times to clear his vision, stunned to find his father dangling him by the collar of his night photography hoody he’d fallen asleep in.

“A jacket?” Tim mumbled sleepily.

Jack Drake snarled in a rage and threw Tim to the floor. Tim landed hard, his fall cushioned unevenly by discarded clothes.

Tim inhaled sharply and willed himself to wake up faster. Usually, he knew what he’d done to make his parents hate him, but this time, he was too thrown off by exhaustion, and the pain in his gut, and that overpowering stench of honey that seemed to cling to him. In fact, everything smelled more strongly than normal. His father’s fury, his own fear, and the normally slight smell of beta disappointment that wafted in strong enough to alert him to the presence of Janet Drake in the doorway.

“I told you he was never going to be an alpha,” his mother snapped, not even looking at him.

Tim winced at the anger and dismissal in her voice, and his own confusion, because nothing made sense and he couldn’t understand what was going on or why they were mad, or why everything hurt. He just wanted to curl up in a small, dark place and hide. And what was that smell?

That sweet honey…

Omega.

Where had that come from? Neither of his parents were omegas, so who-

No.

No, no, no, no, no!

It was him.

Tim’s heart pounded, and he tried to stand up, but Jack kicked him in the ribs.

“Thirteen years, raising you, feeding you, educating you, wasted! You’re fucking useless!” Jack seized a fistful of Tim’s shirt and slammed him against the wall. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with an omega for an heir, you stupid bitch!”

“I-” Tim started. His eyes stung fiercely, but his parents would be even more furious if he started crying too. He was an omega?

Tim couldn’t be an omega. He’d heard the vitrious gossip and spite his parents had for omegas for years; how useless and pathetic they were, flighty whores ruled by their pendulum mood swings. Tim was pretty sure that he wasn’t those things, or maybe he was a bit useless, but he tried his best. The thought of being just an omega to his parents was terrifying. Omegas didn’t even have full rights.

“You-” Jack raised his fist and Tim flinched, hard, waiting for the blow.

Janet moved from her spot at the door with an air of utter contempt. “Jack, dear, don’t hurt him.”

Tim frowned, unable to reconcile her tone with her words. Janet Drake had never been a very maternal woman. She read him financial reports instead of bedtime stories, and had started teaching him how to manipulate his business rivals by the time he was five years old, but maybe, in her own way, she did care about him, and she just had a strange way of showing it.

His heart swelled in hope. If some kind of dormant maternal instincts had been awoken, seeing her pup in danger, she might save him before his dad beat him too much, even if he was a disappointment.

“He might be completely useless as an heir, but there are other uses for an omega in the business world, Jack.”

Tim’s hope withered and died with a pain worse than his father’s kick, and this time he couldn’t blink back the tears. “Mom?”

She locked eyes with him just long enough for her lip to curl in distaste.

Her eyes flicked to Jack and pointedly stayed there. “He’s worth less to us if you break him. Set him down.”

Jack growled unhappily, but he gave Tim a final shake before dropping his shirt.

Tim’s knees crumpled under his weight, and he collapsed in a barely controlled fall. Tears streamed down his face, no matter how hard he tried to stop. This was so stupid, why couldn’t he stop? He was acting just like the omegas that his parents hated so much, and his own body was betraying him, because it wouldn’t let him stop crying like a baby or an omega.

“I’m sorry,” Tim whimpered.

“Don’t grovel,” Janet said, her voice even and businesslike. “You might be an omega, but you’re still a Drake. Act like it.”

Tim swiped at his face with his sleeve and didn’t sniffle. He lowered his gaze so they couldn’t see his face. She was right; falling apart like this was a weakness, and Drakes weren’t weak.

“I’m sorry, mother. I didn’t mean to be-”

“What you meant doesn’t matter. Only what you are,” Janet interrupted. “You might be a lost cause as an heir, but there are still…possibilities. You can still redeem yourself.”

Tim slowly raised his head so that he could bare his neck in submission. If he just behaved well enough, then they’d eave on their next grand adventure and forget about him for the next six months. He just had to placate them for the rest of their visit. They might pull him out of school, but he could maybe enroll himself in an online school without them knowing.

“Anything, mother,” he whispered.

Jack glared at his wife, a question in his scowl. “What are you thinking, Jan?”

Janet raised her chin and smirked slightly. “I think that I’ve solved the problem we’ve been having with our…less cooperative business partner.”

Realization dawned on Jack’s face and settled into a vicious grin. “I see. How thoughtful of you.”

Dread curdled in Tim’s stomach. He wasn’t any use to them as an heir anymore. If they wanted him to deal with a business partner who was giving them trouble- Surely they cared more about him than that. They wouldn’t rent him out to solve their problems.

They wouldn’t.

They would.

He knew it, just like he knew that the sky was blue and Bruce Wayne had poor coping mechanisms.

He wouldn’t let them. He’d run before he let anyone touch him like that. He’d never submit.

But he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t run from them. They had too much money; they’d find him wherever he went, and even if they didn’t, could he really survive alone on the streets of Gotham? He was helpless.

“I’ll set up a meeting. Do you think he’ll accept, though?” Jack asked, stepping towards his wife as though his son on the floor was nothing but a broken toy.

“He has a different omega on his arm at every gala. Clearly, he likes their company quite a bit. He’ll certainly accept a bride who cannot deny him, even if he tried,” Janet said coolly.

Tim shuddered and tried to hide his tears. She wanted to give him to someone she knew would rape him, someone he couldn’t escape. How- She was his mother! He knew that she didn’t love him, but couldn’t she care just a bit?

“I’m being sold?” He tried to say it calmly, confidently, but his voice broke into a strangled whimper.

His mother scoffed at him without even looking down. “Of course. There’s no other use for an omega. You’ll submit to your husband like a good whore, and your pack will benefit. This is your responsibility.”

“Wh-who?” Tim couldn’t choke out the rest of the sentence. Who had they decided would rape him?

His father crossed his arms. “You’re going to marry Bruce Wayne.”

[hateswifi]

Rising from the Ashes: Of Decisions and Old Friends

So this is Part Nine here is to my Master List and Part Eight. Just a short little chapter, not even 2k words. Sorry my dudes.

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"Ladybug, my name is Superboy," he says as he sits beside her.

"What's up? I'm Ladybug heroine of Paris, who decided in a need for a change of scenery," she greets, her eyes never leaving the skyline.

"Nothing much just ruined my brother's relationship," he shrugs dejectedly. "What's got you down in the dumps?"

"I have to leave again. The life I've been building is going to be destroyed," she says practically emotionless.

"Why is that? If you like it shouldn't you try and fix it?" Superboy asks, looking at the poor girl.

"As guardian of the miraculous and holder of the miraculous of creation and the ladybug, anyone who isn't a miraculous holder is not allowed to know my identity. Somehow my boyfriend figured it out not even a week into our relationship. I don't want to put him in danger because I'm pretty sure I love him," Ladybug explains, standing, she heard more footsteps.

"There you are Superboy," Nightwing says, walking towards him. "Robin has calmed down and doesn't want to kill you. So you can come back to the Batcave."

"I didn't realize that Hood was going to post that," he groans, standing as well. 

"You live you learn," Nightwing shrugs. "How are you doing, Spot?"

"Tired," she replies with a yawn.

"Yeah me too. By the way LB you might want to get your injuries checked out," Superboy pointed out.

"What injuries?" she asks, confused.

"Ya know the stab wound, burns, and multiple broken bones. There are so many you shouldn't be alive," he answered.

"How can you see those?" she asks, looking to where the stab wound had been weeks ago.

"X-ray vision," he said, tapping his temple. "How are you not dead though?"

"How can you still be walking with a healing stab wound and broken bones?" Nightwing asked, sitting on the ledge, patting the area around him telling them to sit too.

"Part of my miraculous' power is Lucky Charm which is what is given to me to solve a problem. Back when I was fighting akumas I would use the Lucky Charm after the fight to fix Paris. I didn't realize my injuries would still show up, not gonna lie. During the last battle, I took a hit for my partner, Chat Noir, because he was protecting Ryuko. I got stabbed with Hawkmoth's cane, sword combo thing," she explained. "I guess the injuries are held together by magic until my body naturally heals them."

"Well, I gotta start packing, bye you guys! I wish you the best of luck with Gotham's criminals," She said, jumping off the building her yo-yo twirling.

"Packing? What did she mean by that?" Nightwing asked, standing. Jon then explained everything she had told him before he had arrived. "You know he's going to kill you."

"I figured, but I have a plan to help fix this," he said, standing before flying back to Metropolis. 

"Telling me would be helpful and you know give me and probably Robin piece of mind," Nightwing shouted after him. "Or not that's fine too." He ran back to the manor after finishing his patrol.

Marinette decides not to pack tonight and also decides to go see Chloe tomorrow. She falls asleep fast after showering. When she wakes up the next morning she texts Chloe asking if Ann can come to see her. After a positive response, she packs an overnight bag including her pajamas, an olive green light jacket, a white shirt, blue skinny jeans, and gray ankle boots. The second outfit she packed is for Christmas day, which is a red off the shoulder v-neck dress, the bottom part is flowy and reaches the knee, black tights and would wear the grey boots from her last outfit. She packed her hairbrush, toothbrush, her charger, her sketchbook, and the miracle box. After she gets dressed as Ann in her outfit Luka inspired, she transforms and teleports to Chloe's room.  She continues to wear the horse miraculous as glasses so she didn't have to put them away.

"Hey, Marinette, what's up? I just saw you a couple of days ago, not that I'm complaining," Chloe said, hugging her.

"Damian found out about me being Ladybug, now I have to move again, because no one can no," Marinette said, setting her bag down. "I'm just going to stay until tomorrow night. I hope you don't mind. For Christmas Master Fu said I could stay with him."

"That's fine, but what's the matter with Damian knowing? It's a different time from when you were a hero during Hawkmoth's reign. Have you talked to him about it?" Chloe asked, rubbing her back.

"No, I was asked to spend Christmas with him, but I don't think he will want to after the exit I made," Marinette said, rubbing her eyes.

"I don't think you should make any rash decisions before you talk with him," Chloe said, standing. "Want to go for a walk? I heard André's is nearby," Chloe said, leading them out of her room. They walk to the lock bridge where André's cart was set up.

"Hello girls," André greets. "I see almond for his lips and skin, mint for his piercing green eyes, and dark chocolate for his dark past and black hair, but it seems you've met him. For the young blonde--"

"No, I don't want to know," Chloe interrupts. "Can I just have dark chocolate?"

"That I can do," André says, scooping the ice-cream as they pay. "Have a good day you two."

"Let's take a selfie," Chloe says, pulling out her phone. They hold up their ice-cream with the Seine and lock on the bridge in the background. Chloe posts the picture with this caption:

'I'm here with my girl, Ann. <3. Miss her, so glad we can spend a couple of days before Christmas. #Blessed #MakingMemories #Andrés'icecream'

@adrienagrestebrand

‘Why didn’t you tell me that she was coming! And you guys got ice cream without me and @Kagami.Ts and @luka.coufaine! I’m hurt’

"You didn't tag me in that right?" Marinette asks, licking her ice-cream cone.

"Nah, you're dead remember?" Chloe says, brushing off her concerns.

Marinette giggles, but that is interrupted by Marinette's phone. She sees Damian's number. "I'm going to take this," shes says, answering the phone. "Hi, Damian."

"Hi, Marinette, can we talk in person?" he asked, his voice being cracked by the distance.

"I... I.. can't at the moment," Marinette said, crossing her phoneless hand in front of her.

"Ann! It's so good to see you!" came a voice.

"Marinette, who was that?" he asks.

"Ummm... that was Luke, but this isn't the best time right now," she responds, waving at Luka.

"Luka? Isn't he in Paris? Where are you?" Damian asked she could hear stuff shuffling in the background.

"I'm in Paris," she said, slowly.

"Please, Angel I'm--" the line crackled and hung up before he could say anything.

"I love you, Prince," she said, bringing the phone down from her ear with a tear forming in her eyes. She walks back to the group because Luka, Adrien, and Kagami had joined them while she was on the phone. "Hey, guys, I think I'm going to visit my parents. Luka may I borrow your hoodie, I want to be able to cover my face."

"Ya sure Bug," he said, pulling off the Jagged Stone sweatshirt. "I love the outfit you made by the way. I heard I inspired it."

"Yes, your guitar solo inspired me," She explained, the hoodie over her head. "Thank you, guys. Will I see you for dinner?"

"Yes, we decided to eat together at a small cafe called, KB Café," Chloe says, hugging her goodbye.

"See you later," She said, waving bye. 

She walks in silence to the graveyard where her parents are buried. She kneels in between her parents' grave. That is until a tap on her shoulder. Alya.

"Hi, your name is Ann, right?" Alya asked, kneeling beside her. 

"Yes," She responds politely in her practiced British accent. Even though Marinette and Alya weren't friends anymore doesn't mean she didn't feel the loss of her or maybe she just wanted to hear what Alya thought of her. "What is your name?"

"I'm Alya. I was Marinette's best friend for a long time," she answers, looking at Marinette's grave. "You're friends with Chloe, Adrien, Luka, and Kagami, right?"

"Uhh... yes. I used to be friends with her when Chloe and Marinette used to be friends as children. I miss the girl, she helped me with my bullying problem by showing me my worth," Ann explained, trying to make her feel a bit guilty.

"She was so nice to everyone, I think I lost sight of it," Alya said, a tear rolling down her cheek. 

After awhile Ann broke the silence. "Ya know, Kagami, Luka, Chloe, and Adrien, they aren't bad people. They protect people, who are family to them. Their blood family might not be the best, but who's family is, they have each other's backs. They face things together head-on," Ann explained, standing. "I wish you the best in life. I hope you can forgive yourself and move forward. I hope you find a family bond like mine someday. Goodbye." She heard Alya crying as she left. 

When she arrived at the cafe they agreed on, she took off the hoodie Luka gave her to borrow, The group arrived not too long after. They ordered the food and ate happily they talked about what they're doing tomorrow and on Christmas. Kagami and Adrien's families are spending Christmas together. Luka was leaving tomorrow to see his grandparents with his sister and mom. Chloe's mom is flying in tonight to be in Paris till New Year's. She decided to text Master Fu about staying tomorrow and Christmas so Chloe could spend more time with her family.

"You guys want to come back to the hotel to watch animes," Chloe asks, splitting the check with Adrien.

"Sounds like a plan," Adrien agrees, standing and pushing in his chair.

Once they get back to Chloe's room, Marinette takes out her contacts and takes off her wig. She wears a hoodie to bed just in case someone, like Chloe’s mother, comes in her room. They all watch anime for a while until Luka and Adrien have to leave, then put on cliche Hallmark movies. The girls fall asleep together on Chloe's couch.

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[mizmahlia]

“It just… hurts.”

This is some hurt/comfort and fluff for my Tumblr sis @rosevered who requested this prompt with Damian.  💕

(If you would like to be tagged, feel free to send an Ask or reply to a fic.)

A/N: No angst here, just hurt/comfort. And from personal experience, Damian’s condition really does suck. Just sayin’.

Enjoy!

#39. “It just… hurts.”

The front passenger seat of the Batmobile was traditionally reserved for Robin. And that’s exactly where Damian sat each night on patrol with Dick in the driver’s seat. The first night Tim patrolled with them, he’d instinctively tried to get in the front when Damian’s sword sliced through the humid night air, stopping dangerously close to the side of Tim’s neck. Tim easily disarmed him, tossed the sword toward Dick and disappeared into the darkness. When asked why he’d reacted that way, Damian simply replied the only place Tim was welcome to sit was in the back.

A few discussions took place after that and Damian was forced to apologize. And despite multiple invitations, Tim patrolled alone from then on, ignoring Dick’s demands to the contrary. Since he wasn’t Robin, Batman no longer had any right to dictate what he did each night.

It stung, but Dick could admit he kind of had it coming.

So when Damian climbed into the back seat, he knew something was up.

“Are you okay, Damian?”

There was a groan and rustling of fabric against leather.

“Turn the lights down,” he whispered. “They’re too bright.”

Dick frowned and dimmed the cabin lights to the lowest setting.

“Talk to me.”

“Tt. It’s just a headache, Grayson.” Dick watched him tug his hood over his eyes. “So please keep your voice down.”

Dick remained silent until they were in the bunker and he had to wake him to get him out of the car. He allowed himself to be carried upstairs, his hood still pulled tightly over his eyes, and he made Dick leave the room while he got ready for bed.

When he checked half an hour later, Damian was tucked into bed and covered with three extra blankets, only a shock of damp, black hair fanning out over his pillow.

If he wasn’t better in the morning, he would call Leslie.

The next morning, Dick wandered into the kitchen and saw Alfred preparing breakfast as usual.

But what wasn’t usual was the empty chair where Damian could normally be found sketching as he waited for breakfast. Alfred turned and smiled.

“Master Dick- good morning.”

Dick’s face twisted into a frown, noticing for the first time how quiet it was.

“Morning, Alfred. Have you seen Damian?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. If he’s not out of bed soon, he’ll be late for school.”

Turning on his heel, Dick rushed to Damian’s room and opened the door, breaking his number one rule about knocking first. There was a small lump beneath a mountain of blankets and the room was stuffy, stale and overwhelmingly warm. Dick kneeled on the bed, searching with both hands until he found the lump’s foot.

“Damian?”

When there was no answer, he carefully squeezed Damian’s foot.

“Come on, Damian.”

“Go away,” came a pained whisper.

Dick inhaled and let out the breath slowly.

“I can’t and won’t do that,” he said, keeping his voice calm and quiet. “There’s something wrong and I’d like to help. And that means I need you to talk to me.”

The lump shifted and blankets were shoved back as Damian rolled over to face him. He moved stiffly and slowly, as if any movement whatsoever took monumental effort.

“It just… hurts,” he said. His hands were tangled in his hair and his eyes were squeezed shut. Dick reached a hand out, brushing the backs of his fingers across Damian’s forehead. He fought the urge to swear at how warm Damian was.

That wasn’t good.

“What hurts?”

Damian tried to open his eyes but slammed them shut once he noticed the bright morning sunlight. He tugged a pillow over his face as Dick got up to draw the heavy curtains closed. Damian relaxed as the room darkened, and Dick watched him stare at the ceiling. When he sat down, Damian turned his head, wincing at the movement, and the tired, confused look on his face was more worrisome than the fever.

“What hurts, Little D?”

He brushed a sweaty lock of hair from Damian’s forehead as he waited for an answer. Several seconds later Damian managed a groggy reply.

“My head. My neck. Everything.”

Dick’s eyes traveled down his small frame, looking for any sign of injury. Last night was a quiet night of patrol and they’d even finished early after Damian admitted he wasn’t feeling well. It was during the few minutes it took them to get back to the car that he’d developed the headache. And then he’d piled the extra blankets on at home, Dick missing the fairly obvious signs of a fever until now.

He chastised himself as he pulled his phone from his pocket to do a quick search of Damian’s symptoms, all the while keeping his hand on the side of Damian’s neck. One look at the search results and his eyes widened. He shook Damian, who managed to pry his eyes open.

“We need to go, D.”

Damian frowned, having no clue as to what was going on and staring at Dick with glassy eyes.

“What?” he mumbled.

Dick grabbed Damian’s bathrobe and helped him put it on, wincing to himself at how much pain Damian was in, judging by his whimpers whenever he moved his head. Next he wrapped him in one of the blankets, picked him up and carried him toward the garage. Alfred caught up with them along the way.

“Master Dick?”

“I’m taking him to the E.R.”

“Should I come with you?”

Dick’s first instinct was to agree. Alfred always knew what to do. Whenever Dick was sick as a child, Alfred knew how to make him feel better, and Bruce eventually learned how to do the same. But Dick wasn’t a child anymore. Bruce was gone. And he now had someone he swore he’d look after. So, despite how badly he wanted Alfred there, he knew he had to try this on his own.

“I’ll call from the hospital as soon as I know more.”

Alfred nodded.

“I’ll wait for your call.”

Hours later, Dick returned to the penthouse with a sleeping Damian in his arms. Alfred was waiting in the kitchen, staring out at the afternoon with a cold cup of tea in front of him. He smiled in relief and followed Dick down the hall to Damian’s room. He turned down the freshly-washed sheets and blankets as Dick set Damian on the edge of the bed.

“Hey. We’re home. Let’s take your robe off so you can get back in bed.”

Damian barely managed to raise his arms, and Alfred propped him up so Dick could help him change into clean pajamas.

“Poor child,” Alfred whispered. “What did the doctors say?”

Dick laid Damian back and they watched as he curled onto his side, clutching a pillow to his chest. Dick covered him and sat down next to him, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Viral meningitis. They gave him some anti-inflammatory medication for the swelling and a small dose of a painkiller until the other stuff kicks in.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, his body finally letting go of the tension knotted in his neck and shoulders. “The pain should subside as the swelling does. But he’s still pretty nauseated.”

Alfred stood and collected Damian’s clothes.

“And treatment?”

Dick shook his head and laughed quietly.

“Alfred Pennyworth’s usual prescription,” he answered. “Bed rest and fluids, with over-the-counter pain medication as needed.”

Alfred nodded and smiled.

“Right. Now that Master Damian is resting more comfortably, let’s take care of you.”

Dick opened his mouth to protest and his stomach growled.

“I should stay here in case he wakes up.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Alfred scolded, a hint of a smile on his face. “I’ll sit with him while you go help yourself to the soup that’s on the stove. Only after you’ve eaten and had something to drink should you come back.”

Dick tore his eyes from Damian and looked up at Alfred.

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s better,” Alfred teased, pulling Dick into a hug. “Now run along.”

Dick leaned into his embrace, allowing his eyes to close and several tears to fall.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my child. It’s what family does.”

Requests & prompts are open!

[heathcliffdt]

Whatever Souls Are Made Of

Summary: It had been three years since Gar last saw Rae, and he was still reminded of her in the most trivial little things. A post-Christmas fic.

It had been three years since Gar last saw Raven in person. Of course there had been a few calls here and there, but both sides were courteous enough not to sustain the calls for longer than necessary. Sometimes, he wonders if Raven was just being her usual self—he knew her, he knew that she was untrusting, she was skeptic, she doubted. And despite the fact that Garfield was among the few whom she trusted, he didn’t become complacent. He didn’t want to intrude or to impose. 

Besides, it had been three years already. 

What did he know about how she was doing?

He knew nothing anymore. He was brave enough to admit that. He was a realistic and pragmatic person now; he grew up. Should teen Garfield be present, he would pride himself that he had permeated through the brazen thick walls Raven had built around herself.

Before the team broke up, Garfield became confused. He was spending more time with Raven—they would hang out in her room, she’d show him some few harmless spells (how to establish a bond between familiar and sorceress, how to convert dried flowers to charms). It was a two-way street: Raven, on her part, met Gar halfway. She hang out with him, accompanied him to stupid arcades despite the blinding flashing lights and loud noises. One time, when chilling in the living room of the Titans Tower, Garfield playfully placed his headphones on Raven’s ears.

“What the—“

“Listen to this, Rae. Just give it a shot.”

She gave him a doubting look. “I don’t know, Beast Boy, you’re too loud for my liking. I’m sure your songs are too loud as well.”

“Yet you choose to hang out with me rather than turn me down,” he said. To this, Raven felt her cheeks heat up. She only hoped he did not see the red creep up in her cheeks.

Garfield fiddled through his phone, scrolling through his songs on his playlist. Raven tried peeking at his list to see if there were any familiar song. Suddenly, a song blasted through Gar’s headphones.

When Raven first heard the song, she gave Gar a questioning look. Beast Boy? This song? He listened to songs like this? That night, when she was in bed, Raven listened to the song Gar made her listen to earlier. Garfield had no idea of the little efforts Raven made to meet him halfway.

It was no brainer that Garfield and Raven were at the polar ends of a spectrum. Their compatibility even as friends are so, well, low. Raven would much rather isolate herself from the company of people; if she chose however to be with people, she would want to be with those who understand her. She loved Robin’s beautiful mind, and how reassuring he was of a friend. For Raven, Robin was the complementary muslin darkness to her moon. While Gar on the other hand, who was poor in handling his internal strife would prefer the company of those who could provide him the ability of forgetting his scars temporarily. People like Vic—and Terra even—made him forget that he was a monster. 

Clearly, Raven and Gar would be each other’s last option for a good company. 

Yet there they were, in front of the local theatre entrance three summers ago.

“A stage play? Really?” Raven raised her eyebrows at Garfield. At first, it appeared to her that maybe he was trying too hard. Theaters were simply not his interest, it was so not him.

“Ahhh hehe,” Garfield ruefully scratched his nape. “Hey, I dunno, I uh, love theatre. Thought you might want to see a play or something.”

Raven looked at Garfield. She felt Garfield. Garfield was always easy to read—on the surface level, that is. To her, Garfield was wild flowers, beautiful in a porcelain vase on top of a table. Wild, as they might be poisonous as well. She studied him carefully this time: he was nervous, the rate of his heart increasing. But she felt blitheness and warmth spreading in the fields of gardenias and flowering almond. The fact that the small futile happiness of Garfield scared Raven. Probably because his feelings crawled up to her skin and she felt in that moment that she was happy as well. 

“I, uh, I didn’t know that, Beast Boy. That you love theatre.”

He gave her his signature flashing smile. “‘Course! I’m a trash for the performing arts!”

To this she chuckled lightly. “Really now?”

“Hey, if this date turned out well, and you liked it, maybe we could see a musical or a classic reruns of Humphrey Boggart.”

“You watch Humphrey Boggart?”

“I gots class. Vintage,” he winked at her.

She rolled her eyes fondly and smiled. “So what are we seeing?”

“Wuthering Heights. It’s just a local production, but I looked up their blog and there were positive reviews.”

“Wuthering Heights?” Raven shot at him. Garfield’s eyes widened in brief terror as a response to Raven’s reactions. 

“Yeah, why? Is something wrong?”

Raven was not sure if he was pulling on her leg. Raven loved Wuthering Heights. It’s her favorite book. And Gar And Garfield was not supposed to know that. Or was he mocking her? Wuthering Heights screamed gothic what with all the elements of a gothic piece of literature present—the haunting ghost, the moor which never saw a blink of the sun, not to mention, the house with gothic architecture. 

“Beast Boy, what do you think you’re doing? Are you making fun of me?”

“What?” Garfield squinted his eye in confusion as he scratched his head. “What the hell are you talking about, Rae?”

“If this is some kind of joke, just don’t. I know you think I’m creepy, bu—“

“Whoa, whoa. Why the hell are you bringing this up now? And didn’t we settle this before?”

Raven felt Garfield’s emotions piqued up. It shifted quickly like a madman. One moment he was so reluctant and bashful, the next he was excited and pumping, and now he was just straight out frustrated and quite confused. Raven pursed her lips and this time, thought carefully of the words she would let loose.

“Garfield,” she said softly. 

Gar’s shoulders slumped to this. His frustration and annoyance immediately escaping his senses. “Rae? What’s wrong? Something’s wrong, isn’t there?” because Raven had not called Garfield his real name ever until this very moment.

“Garfield,” his name in the movement of her lips was an irony: it was a foreign word but senses screamed at her that no, it was not. “Wuthering Heights is my favorite book.”

“It is? Then that’s sweet, isn’t it? I just don’t see why you’re getting all mad at me. Please let me understand.”

“I mean, I, uh, I love the book for a great many reasons, Gar. Not because it’s, you know,” Raven cleared her throat.

“What?”

“Not because it’s what you call creepy.”

“Oh.”

Okay. Now he understood. After that particular misunderstanding, Gar never told Raven that she was creepy. He admitted that it was a careless remark but it did not incapacitate him from pursuing a deeper friendship with him. “Hey, I know you must know that I’m not the biggest fan of books out there, but I am aware that Wuthering Heights is a gothic tale.”

Raven did not respond. She shifted on her feet awkwardly to Gar’s remarks.

“If you think I’m pulling a joke on you, or making fun of who you are, then you’re wrong.”

Garfield held Raven’s hand in his. At his touch, Raven lowered her head to hide the beet red on her face. 

“I just want you to enjoy the things I find cool. Seriously, Rae. Also, I would never use the things you love against you. Why would I even?”

The only response she gave him was a tight affirmative squeeze at his hand.

On Christmas morning, Raven woke up to a brown package that arrived through mail.

It had been three years since she last celebrated Christmas. For her, Christmas was all about being with loved ones; she had been living alone for three years, and her walls had never been higher and more solid than ever. Just why would she even celebrate the holiday? Sure she did receive postcards and pictures from her friends which overtime turned to just phone calls and sms, but to actually go as far as celebrating it, what’s the use if you’re alone? 

It was a surprise that there was actually a package for her that Christmas. A real Christmas present. 

Raven was a sentimental person. Of course things scarred her. She didn’t detest the holiday. How could she, when it was among the nicest and warmest she had ever felt. To commemorate, the only effort she exerted for the memory of Christmas was when she brew ginger tea. It tasted like the cookies she and her friends baked on Christmas eve—Starfire overdoing her cookies, and Gar liking the remains of the bowl of the cookie dough. 

She went to her counter and poured hot water over her teacup. Carefully she took a small sip. Raven lifted the package and studied it. ‘Huh, who could have given it?’

She unwrapped the present disinterestedly. Maybe it was just her landlady giving out towels or planners or some compulsory gifts demanded by their unwritten contract. 

When Raven opened it however, it was a tattered secondhand copy of her favorite book. 

Wuthering Heights the cover read. Underneath it was the name of the author, Emily Brontë, in a smaller, thinner and less defined font. 

She stood there for a good couple of minutes, her tea had probably ran cold. Her hands shivered as she held the book. Her mouth gaped at it in awe and in panic. It took her another minute before her mind told her to flip through the pages.

When Raven opened the cover of the book, a piece of paper showed itself before her. After reading what was written in the paper tucked in between the cover and the first page, she knew that it was the best Christmas present ever. 

For a long time, it was kindness that made her cry. Not pain, not hurt, not betrayal. But kindness.

Rae,

Merry Christmas. I hope this came in on time. I haven’t seen you for a long time already, but I remember you in a lot of things. I got this copy from a secondhand store. And I know it’s a dumb idea to gift you one since it’s your favorite. Surely you already have a copy of it. I miss you. Take care.

-Gar

an: hello !!!! this is my first bbrae fic i ever post and it is not timely so forgive me. lets be friendsss. also it had been my headcanon that raven's fave book is wuthering heights since i think she has an exquisite taste in classic literature and is a romantic herself. and the song that bb made raven listen to was i will follow you into the dark by death cab for cutie. :> 

[notstars-doors]

What Are Friends For?

~~~~

Dick manages to send Wally a weak smile before the speedster is gathering the younger man up in his arms in a tight hug.

“Hey…”

Dick melts into Wally’s touch, letting out a deep sigh against his shoulder and curling both arms around his waist. “Hi…”

“You okay?”

“Not really.”

“You want a burrito?”

~~~~

Fluffy little fic about Dick and Wally being the weird, cuddly best friends that should really figure out that they're in love.

read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860538

dickhead: dude u awake

kid idiot: yeah man

kid idiot: why tf are you tho

dickhead: who r u talking to rn

Wally rolls his eyes, tossing the controller down beside him on the bedsheets and rolling over onto his back to pay better attention to his phone. It’s after midnight in Palo Alto, but it’s a Friday night and he finished his lecture notes earlier. He’s half expecting his best friend to roast him not going out on a Friday, but midterms just finished, and he’s wiped. All Wally wants to do is sleep, but dammit he’s been doing nothing but writing papers and taking exams for the last three weeks, he’s gonna stay up late and play some video games if he wants to.

kid idiot: true

kid idiot: still man, what time is there rn

dickhead: 4:36

Wally sighs, frowning up at the bright screen. If Dick’s sleep schedule didn’t kill him, Wally would just for staying up this late. The poor guy needs rest more than most people.

kid idiot: dude go to BED

dickhead: cant sleep

dickhead: can u come over

He blinks, the question throwing him for a second. Then he’s on his feet. Usually when Dick asks for Wally’s company like this, without beating around the bush, he’s having a bad time. The fact that it’s 4am in Gotham and Dick isn’t on patrol probably means it’s worse than usual.

He’s halfway through tugging on a pair of jeans over his boxers when his phone buzzes again.

dickhead: can i come over****

dickhead: sorry

dickhead: its ok if ur busy

Wally bites his lip, taking in a deep breath through the nose. His chest hurts with worry and all he wants to do is run over to Gotham and hug his best friend. But Dick probably wants the time it’ll take to use the Zeta beam to compose himself. Which is dumb because Wally could be there in two minutes and has seen him like this a million times before. But he knows that Dick needs the time.

Sometimes Wally wishes he didn’t know his best friend so well.

kid idiot: dude of course you can

kid idiot: nothing to be sorry for. meet you at the zeta in ten?

dickhead: ok

Wally tugs on the rest of his clothes in a few seconds, tripping over an untied shoelace as he slips out of his room into the dark hallway. The apartment he shares with a few other students is quiet, most of them either asleep or out partying. Dick chose a good night to visit.

He’s pacing in front of the seemingly-decrepit phonebooth for about eight minutes before the light of the zeta beam signals Dick’s arrival and the 18-year-old is stepping out. Wally’s heart sinks when he takes in the sight of his friend.

Dick’s hair is rumpled, which isn’t all to unfamiliar when he’s Robin - no, Nightwing now – but as Dick Grayson it can be an odd sight to see if you aren’t used to it. He’s usually the picture of composure. Tonight, however, Wally can see the dark circles under his eyes, even in the fading light of the streetlamps. His duffle bag is slung over a slumped shoulder, one hand in his jacket pocket.

Dick manages to send Wally a weak smile before the speedster is gathering the younger man up in his arms in a tight hug.

“Hey…”

Dick melts into Wally’s touch, letting out a deep sigh against his shoulder and curling both arms around his waist. “Hi…”

“You okay?”

“Not really.”

“You want a burrito?”

Dick chokes out a laugh, and Wally smiles at the sensation of Dick’s rumbling chest against his own.

“Do you ever stop thinking about food?”

“Hey, I’m thinking about you! Burritos always make me feel better when I’m down, I thought you might be hungry.”

Dick pushes away from Wally, shaking his head but unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “You’re an idiot.”

Wally grins. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick shrugs his duffle bag more securely onto his shoulder. “I guess I could go for some pizza?”

“Pizza it is!” Wally slings an arm around Dick’s shoulder again and guides him out of the alley into the main street ahead; if he knows anything about Dick Grayson, it’s that the best treatment option is always constant physical contact. “You wait, Palo Alto has the best pizza.”

Dick snorts, poking Wally in the ribs, but very obviously not objecting to the arm still around him. “Liar. You’ve had Chicago pizza, you know that’s not true.”

Wally wags his index finger in front of Dick’s face. “No-no, my friend, this city has changed my pizza opinions. Seriously, just wait.”

Dick chuckles quietly but doesn’t object. Which isn’t the best sign. No banter is a bad sign.

The two find their way to a 24-hour pizzeria around the corner from Wally’s apartment, Dick ordering a slice of pepperoni and Wally taking the last three-quarters of a deluxe. It’s not long until they’re tip-toeing back into Wally’s building, creeping through the apartment until they’re back in his room.

“Alright, that’s pretty good pizza.” Dick finally admits, polishing off the last piece of crust and sucking some tomato sauce off his thumb.

“Right?” Wally gestures vaguely, speaking through a mouthful of his own last slice.

Dick looks a little brighter, having just eaten some fantastic pizza and settled comfortably against his best friend’s side, but he’s still not the bouncing ball of energy that Wally is accustomed to being around. So, it’s time to get to the bottom of this.

Wally finishes the last few bites of his pizza, then slings an arm back around Dick’ shoulders. Dick tucks his head in against Wally’s collarbone, who then rests his cheek against soft black hair as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“So, what’s goin’ on, little bird?”

Dick huffs at the nickname but doesn’t comment. He’s quiet for a while, probably trying to pull his thoughts together into something coherent, so Wally just waits. Their legs are tangled together on the bedsheets, barely any space between them, and Wally can feel the tension in every one of Dick’s muscles. The guy is wound like a clock, always ready to spring into action. Not that Wally doesn’t know what that feels like, but he hadn’t grown up with the World’s Greatest Paranoid.

As if on cue, Dick takes a deep breath. “Bruce and I had a fight.”

Wally closes his eyes in frustration and tries not to have a bodily reaction to the admission, but he knows he’s failed when Dick slumps against him even more. “…again?”

“Yeah.”

“What was it about this time?”

“Um.” He fidgets against Wally’s side, clamping his lips together for a moment until- “You.”

Wally blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh… Why?”

“He doesn’t…” Dick pauses, letting out a sigh of frustration, bringing his hands up to rub the heels of his palms into his eyes. “He doesn’t understand why I… need you around…”

Wally looks up at the ceiling in confusion, as if the peeling paint could answer the questions banging around in his head. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Dick huffs out another sigh, then sits up abruptly, detangling himself from Wally and moving to face him in a cross-legged position. “I don’t know! He just said something about having too much dependency on you and how that can compromise my ‘emotional integrity’ and I need to have ‘distance’ and all this other bullshit.”

He spits out the last word with so much venom that Wally’s taken aback. Dick never talks about Bruce like this, no matter how angry he’s been with him. He’s always had some modicum of respect for his mentor, but it sounds like Bruce really hit a nerve with this one.

“He’s just… so fucking frustrating these days. It’s like talking to a brick wall.” Dick’s running his hands through his hair in distress. “I mean, it used to be like talking to a very sturdy door with like seven different locks, but at least that had some give to it. Now it’s like… he’s just… he’s different, since Jason.”

They both go silent for a moment, the room suddenly filled with such poignant presence it’s almost like the boy is in there with them. Wally slings his leg over Dick’s own crossed legs, and Dick lays a grateful hand on his knee in response.

“I just… I don’t think he understands how different we are as people.” Dick’s shoulders slump again, all self-righteous anger rushing out of him in one swift motion. “He’s never needed people, even with me and Alfred, and even Jason around. He’s never wanted to need people, he doesn’t get what its like…”

Wally purses his lips. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Dick blinks, looking at his friend in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Wally sighs, sitting up a little straighter against the headboard, crossing his legs underneath him. “I mean, I don’t think it’s true that he doesn’t need people. I don’t know Bruce was well as you do, Dick, but… I mean, you don’t see the way he looks at you.”

There’s more silence after that. Dick is contemplating. Wally just waits.

“How… what do you mean?”

“Dick… Bruce loves you.” Wally shakes his head and reaches out, taking Dick’s hand in his. “He’s… he’s your dad. He needs you just as much as you need him. Sometimes he’ll look at you and it’s like… like you’re made of porcelain or something. It’s never when you’re looking, because he knows you’d hate it. I think… I think he’s just afraid of losing you.”

Dick leans forward and rests his forehead against Wally’s chest. “Then why is he being like this?”

“Maybe it’s easier for him to push you away?”

“Easier than what?”

“Than you not needing him anymore.”

Wally can feel Dick screwing up his face, like he’s trying to hold back tears. “I’m always gonna need him, Walls…”

“I know that. But does he?”

It’s a while before Dick even moves, let alone continues the conversation. After a minute of silence, Wally lifts a hand to start rubbing small circles into his lower back. Dick relaxes into the touch but doesn’t respond in any other way. He just sits there, his head against Wally’s chest. He’s crossed-legged and bent forward in a really weird way, but that stopped bothering Wally a long time ago.

Finally, Dick sits up and away from Wally. He’s quiet for another minute, and Wally is prepared for a few more moments of silence, until Dick lifts his head. With the slight amount of moonlight shining in through the window, Wally can just about make out the tear tracks running down his cheeks.

“Dick…”

Wally doesn’t even think about it. It’s just instinct to reach out and wipe a thumb along the edge of his friend’s jaw, to catch the stray bit of wetness still lingering there. His skin is soft, even covered in tears, and Wally doesn’t think anything of it. They’re always touchy, always have been. It’s just the way they’ve always needed to be.

He barely notices the change in Dick’s expression: the look in his eyes that’s desperate and needy and just a little bit wild, before a sudden pair of soft, salty, tear-stained lips are pressed against his own and he’s being kissed by his best friend.

Wally doesn’t react. Sort of. His body just kind of freezes and his eyes go wide and his hands raise up (god knows why), but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t think his body knows how to.

The kiss doesn’t last long. Maybe five seconds, tops, until Dick seems to realize what he’s doing and moves away very quickly. He slaps his hand over his mouth, either in shock or just from the feeling, and then they’re just staring at each other in confusion. No disgust or anger, just mild confusion. And a strange dawning sensation.

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…”

“…new.”

“Mhm.”

Wally realizes his arms are still in the air, so he drops them back down onto his knees. Still staring at Dick, though, who’s looking back at him like a deer in headlights at this point. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He’s just… confused… and now Dick is biting his lower lip and Wally can’t do anything but stare at that and that’s weird cuz he’s never done that before and whyishestaringatDick’slipsthatsaweirdthingtodobutsoiskissing yourbestfriendandDickjustdidthatsomaybehe’stheweirdoneinthissituationbutitwasn’tthatweirdsowhyishefreakingoutrightnowheshouldn’tbefreakingoutit’sjustDickandDickisDicksoitshouldn’tbeweirdbutisitevenweirdorjustdifferent-

“-lly… Wally!”

Wally blinks, and suddenly Dick’s face is really close to his and the guy’s hands are on his shoulders and wow he’s like a furnace, when did he get so hot? Not like that hot, like warm hot, ‘cause Dick’s always been hot hot, and whoa where did that come from?

“Are you okay?”

“Um.”

Dick sighs. His big blue eyes are wide and concerned and looking directly into Wally’s and jesus when did they get so blue?  “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

“Dude…”

“No, I know you���re not… I was just emotional and you’re my best friend and I think I just had a weird… need… I shouldn’t have just-“

“Dude.”

“-done that without your permission, I’m sorry, I won’t-“

“DICK!” Wally grabs Dick by the shoulders, the same way his friend is holding him, and shakes him just a little to stop the rambling.

Dick sucks in a gasp of air and bites down on his lower lip again. He’s looking up at Wally like he did the night he told him about his family, about Bruce, about his whole life. Like he’s scared. Like he’s expecting Wally to bolt and wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Wally just stares down at his lips again, still not understanding what’s so damn fascinating about them, until he’s reaching up and watching his own thumb pull Dick’s lower lip out from under his teeth and gently run along the chapped skin.

And then it’s clear.

Dick lets out the softest puff of air and Wally can feel it on his fingers and then he’s looking into those big baby blue’s with a question that only Dick could ever know he’s asking. Then those baby blue’s are disappearing behind fluttering closed eyelids and he’s kissing his best friend.

And… it’s magic.

That’s the only way he can describe it. It’s like it just… fits. Like this was always where they were going, and they were idiots to think they were just friends. Best friends. Touchy, handsy, lovey-dovey, emotionally-secure Best Friends.

Fuck, they were so stupid.

Dick’s hands are still on his shoulders, but Wally’s have moved to gently cup Dick’s face and pull him a bit closer. Their mouths are closed. It’s barely a brush of the lips, both of them just a little too scared to push it any further. But it’s still like fireworks and Wally thinks his heart is about to burst out of his chest, but that’s too cliché, so instead he just starts to fucking vibrate.

Dick breaks the kiss with a laugh, his eyes opening to look up at Wally in a mixture of amusement and adoration that’s just about giddying, so Wally starts to giggle in response, because everything is ridiculous and still manages to make sense, because it’s Dick and it always has been.

Suddenly they’re tumbling over sideways in a tangle of limbs and laughter, and it’s the most natural thing in the world. They’ve got both arms around each other now and whether they’re breathless from the kiss or the laughter, neither of them will ever know, but it’s wonderful.

“Well, that’s certainly one way to cheer a guy up.”

Wally’s still chuckling, but the comment makes him snort out a few more giggles, his abdomen aching in the best way from the exertion. “You can say that again.”

Dick rolls onto his side in Wally’s arms, resting his cheek on his shoulder. Wally turns his head to look at him, knowing Dick would just stare at the side of his face until he did. “So…”

“So…?”

“So, what now?”

Wally purses his lips, looking down at his friend – wait, could he still say that? – in mild amusement. “I dunno, man, this was your idea.”

Dick’s jaw drops, and Wally does his best not to break down into giggles again. “It was not! You’re the one who touched my face!”

“I’m always touching your face, you’re the one who decided to get all up into mine.”

“I was not! It just happened!”

“’It just happened.’ ”

“It did! Don’t mock me, you jerk, where do you ge-”

In a split-second Wally leans over to kiss Dick again, just to see if it shuts him up, and when he pulls away he discovers that it does.

“Like that?”

Dick blinks, his mouth a little open in shock from the kiss and Wally realizes that his mouth had been open when he kissed him. Well, that’s even newer.

“…yeah.”

They’re quiet again for a bit. Wally lifts a hand to brush a few stray hairs out of Dick’s eyes. He’s done it a million times before, but now it feels different. Everything feels different. In a matter of minutes everything between him and his best friend had changed.

Except, it hadn’t.

And now Wally’s not really sure where he stands.

“Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“You’re mine, too, Walls.”

“This doesn’t… this doesn’t change that, right?”

Dick looks up at him, and this time his gaze is calculating. Like he’s trying to solve a problem. “Not unless you want it to.”

Wally shakes his head immediately, then reconsiders. “I mean… You’re always gonna be my best friend, no matter what.”

“Same here, man.”

“But… we can still be best friends and… do that, right? ‘Cause…. ‘cause I think I wanna do that more.”

Dick smiles. “Kiss?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“And still be best friends?”

“Dude, yes. Of course. Those are the best kinds of best friends.”

Wally smiles back now, pressing his forehead against Dick’s. “Okay.”

His best friend in the world curls an arm around his waist, like he’s done so many times before, and pulls him closer. “We don’t have to talk about this right now, Wally. We can just… enjoy it. We can figure everything else out later.”

“That sounds good.”

Dick chuckles and closes his eyes, relaxing against Wally’s chest in a way that’s both familiar and entirely new. It’s nice.

Wally grabs the blanket that been bunched up behind him and yanks it over top of them both, snuggling in for a good night’s rest that he figures neither of them have had for a while. Then he remembers the reason they were here in the first place.

“Hey Dick?”

“…hm?”

He’s falling asleep already.

“You feeling better?”

Dick blinks his eyes open, lids heavy, then nods with a tired smile.

“I think so. Thanks, Walls.”

Wally smiles in return, snuggling lower into the blankets and nudging his nose gently against Dick’s.

“Hey, what are best friends for?”

[superloves4]

Starlight Comics - Dick Grayson x Reader

Synopsis:  Dick and Starlight get closer, while Bruce decides what to do with her.

Warning: just vague references, mostly just fluff really.

Issue 3 - Wayne

Dick knocked excited on Starlight's door, after everything that had happened the day before; he just wanted to be by her side more. She looked so helpless after accepting Alfred's help and even after getting out of the suit, Bruce still seemed to scare her.

He worried again as she didn't answer.

Deciding it was better to just get inside, he opened the door only to discover she wasn't there, the empty and still neat bed suggesting she hadn't slept in the room at all.

She run away! He thought running towards the open window, hoping that if she had decided to go away, she had not gone far. So he could bring her back.

Before he could scream for her, however, he suddenly found her face right in front of him.

She was upside down, flying in outside in his borrowed clothes and looking perplexed at him. He sighed in relief and she seemed even more confused.

"You already saw me flying," she said matter-of-factly and he laughed.

"So flying is what you do? No wind manipulation?" she shrugged, still in the same position.

"I guess, that's what they would call it." he smiled, she wasn't quite open about what had been done to her, but he could figure out and so would try to reassure her.

"It's pretty incredible." she turned in mid-air, looking at him in a standing position now, she still had that questioning look but he didn't need to wait long to find out why.

"You look different." that made him laugh, she was talking about his clothes, out of the Robin costume, he probably looked weird to her.

"Had to change, wouldn't want to let people know my secret." he sat on the window, getting closer to her as she looked at him, eyes glinting.

"Secret?" she asked interested in him.

"That I'm a hero." he grinned at her, Bruce would talk about not revealing it to anyone, but he felt she could be trusted and that she belonged there with them.

"That means saving people." it only took a nod from his part and she smiled, it was her second smile since arriving and he liked that he had been the one to cause it.

"Why do you do it? Do you gain something?" she crossed her legs, still in the air, now asking as excited as he was.

"No but because people need it" she felt as his humor changed, he was still trying to be playful, most likely for her sake, but it felt forced "My parents died not too long ago because of criminals and I want to help others like me and..."

His voice cracked and she knew memories had to be creeping in, her night had been the same, if he was like her, maybe she could help him the way he did her.

She extended her hand to him and smiled, trying her best to be reassuring and once he realized what she was doing, he smiled again and took her hand.

He did not expect her to push him.

Dick screamed before he felt the wind move around them as they flew to the roof, he observed as the ground became farther away and looked back at her, she had a concentrated expression and he wondered if it was alright for her to carry him, she was still weak from DDSG mistreatments.

She left him in the roof safely, sitting on the edge, looking contentedly at the scene in front of her.

"I had never seen so many different things before" she looked to him amazed and he sat by her side.

"Did you sleep here?" he asked concerned but she surprised him by nodding excitedly.

"I had never been this free in my life!"

"I saw the starlight! And the city lights!" she continued to list all the things she'd seen since the night before and he listened to everything, her enthusiasm contagious.

But she paused in the middle, looking perplexed again.

"I don't know your name" he fell back laughing, she looked so confused and he worried but instead it was that.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he told her taking her hand and shaking it, she looked so confused at him again, he could only laugh at her again.

She decided she would try to understand him another day, so she just smiled "So, it's Dick and Starlight then"

He smiled at her and nodded.

______________________________________

Bruce observed the two children when Alfred spoke from behind him.

"Seem master Grayson is getting along with the miss"

Bruce grumbled an affirmation before continuing "It will be good for her, she could lose control and..."

"Master Bruce" the butler interrupted him softly "It's more than that no? Seems as they shall be good friends"

He looked back at the monitor of the roof camera, the kids talking enthusiastic to each other, Dick had quickly liked her and she only felt truly comfortable near him.

Bruce turned to Alfred, realizing what the man wanted him to see.

"You think I should keep her here"

Alfred simply looked at the two children on the screen, unapologetic.

"She needs a home and peace after what she has been through" he sighed, bringing Dick had been a thing, but could he really help her overcome her past, that really sounded like a joke.

"The DDSG took her in as a baby according to what you found, sir," the butler explained, he had seen her files too and looking at him in the eyes he continued "Even after your researches, you know, she doesn't have a home anymore"

"Besides, separating them now would not be good for either of them"

______________________________________

Dick continued talking about his life in the circus as the girl looked at him, eyes shining at all the things she didn't know. Until in the midst of describing the performances they would do left his neck exposed, the bandaging reminding her that she hurt him.

Her feet quietly touching the roof of the mansion, her face hidden under her hair.

"Is something wrong?" Dick asked, he had felt they were connecting, why was she hiding away again.

"I hurt you," she whispered, hugging her arms, trying to make herself smaller "I didn't want to, but I did, don't you hate me?"

He sat down and asked to sit with him, as he did the day before.

"Not at all, I like your powers!" he told her, looking into her eyes when she turned towards him, not yet out of her shell.

"Could you show me?"

She nodded, not trusting herself not to cry or shout again, so she closed her eyes and focused as she had learned.

A small flame played around them, like a dance, while the wind picked up not only beside them but in the garden too, the sound of the trees like music.

Starlight opened her eyes and saw his blue ones looking around them in amazement, seeing it she gave it more power, the flame grew and she carefully kept it away from him, their clothes flapping as the air picked up strength.

She flew above him and tried to replicate the acrobatics he told her about, with poor results but he didn't seem bothered about it so she just continued, hearing his laugh.

"Did you liked it?" she asked

He nodded excitedly.

"You know, there are others like you, with powers, like Wally and..."

______________________________________

Bruce sighed and looked back at the screen and saw that the two were no longer there but he didn't need to worry for long as both came running into the cave.

"Something is wrong?" he asked getting up.

Dick just shook his head and smiled, showing the balls he was now holding, she had the same expression as him and it surprised Bruce, she hadn't been so incautious with him before.

"Look!"

Dick threw the balls and she used her powers to spin them around, if you didn't look close it was as if she spinning all of them herself.

They then started talking about all the things they could try before Alfred chimed in, telling them to only do it outside the house and that "throwing Dick into the air with high-pressure air was not a good idea".

They left as fast as they came and Alfred approached him again.

"Are you still worried about her?"

Bruce had initially planned to start on another case but as he sat down again he knew there was something else he had to do before.

"We will need to contact the press before they assume too much and while she has good control over her powers," he said as he typed on the computer, erasing her past with the DDSG, changing it to that of a girl orphaned as a baby "but she will need to learn how to hide them from the public, she would be too much of a target otherwise."

But as he filled her new files even Alfred was surprised.

"Wayne, sir?"

He looked at the words on the screen and felt that it was the right decision.

"She will need a surname"

______________________________________

A/N: Hello people! I had initially planned to make reader surnameless, but it didn't felt quite right to me, so I just made her a Wayne! Does it bother you?

And this way she becomes the first to be adopted (snubbing...Jason? I read that he was the first, but that was pre or post-crisis? Because I've also seen Tim as the first...so unsure, sigh)

Finally, the fluff has begun! There will be more tragedy as we go along (for obvious reasons) but for now enjoy the next very fluffy adventures (I'm not the best at comedy, but I will try!)

You might have noticed, Bruce doesn't talk, or act, or do much, it's just that my comic Batman knowledge goes: death in the family(looove it), the new 52 (which is not great as this is a reboot, but not really because people didn't super like it from what I understand, so they sort of rebooted again but not really because now it sort of has some of the good of both before and after 52? Dunno, comics logic confuses the hell out of me sometimes), Batman and Robin (or this goes with the new 52 category?), son of the demon (is this still non-canon, I've seen it said both ways so I'm not sure) and a shit ton of youtube. As you see, not a lot of early Batman, basically my official comic knowledge of Dick as Robin comes from Batman and Robin eternal (is that bad?). Anyway, will try to do that better.

I'm not super sure of this chapter (for all the reasons I just explained) so I just hope you guys like it!p.s: remember what I talked about them singing? It is mostly for the later chapter, it's just that I don't know how OOC that could be, so just letting it known from the beginning, also, it's like random musical but rather look who's talking (the scene of the kitchen).

[sarasapen]

A Man is what his Mother makes him.

“Let me love you a little more before you are not little anymore.”

“...she had loved a little boy very very much, even more than she loved herself.”

(Y/N) (L/N) was 19 when she married Bruce Wayne. She was 19 when she married the most famous man in the world. She was 19 when she married Batman.

(Y/N) was 22 when they adopted 9-year-old Richard Grayson. He was a sweet little angel that she was grateful to have, for she couldn’t have children of her own. She knew straight away that those bright blue eyes and tiny hands had already stolen her heart.

A few weeks after Dick moved in, you awoke with a strange feeling. In a sleepy daze, you threw off her covers and stumbled to Dick’s room.

You opened the door and your heart ached at what you saw. The poor thing was sobbing into his pillow, calling for his Mum and Dad. 

You sat down next to him and pulled him into your lap, rocking him and humming soothing tunes. You let him cry until he fell asleep, and even then, you continued to rock him though the night.

“No.”

“But, Mum, I’ll be safe!” Dick protested.

You faltered when he called you ‘Mum’, and bent down to squeeze him tightly. After a few minutes of hugging him, you let him go saying that, fine, he could go, as long as he stayed safe. 

And thus, Robin, the Boy Wonder was born.

Okay, children were something else altogether. 

They were at a gala when Dick wanted Bruce’s attention. So, like any other person would do, he ‘pssd’ and motioned for Bruce to bend down while you and the other adults pretended you couldn’t see him. He wanted ice-cream, and asked for extra sprinkles. 

Later, however, after his sugar rush disappeared, Bruce had to carry him as he slept on his shoulder.

A photo of Bruce carrying Dick with you petting his hair made the front cover the next morning.

You couldn’t sleep so you went downstairs to bake cookies. You don’t know what happened, but suddenly there was Dick sitting on a stool, ‘sampling’ the cookie dough. This became a weekly tradition, and every Saturday morning, you and Dick would bake something. 

Alfred was sweet enough to  lay out the main ingredients you would need, and at 6 a.m. in the morning, the smell of delicious baked goods wafted through the manor.

You walked through the same hallway you had for 12 years, and it felt so different.

With Dick now in Bludhaven, the house felt so empty and cold. You paused in front of Dick’s room, hesitating before you went in. You inspected the room, and it felt so wrong to see so many of his possessions gone. 

Tears stung at the back of yours eyes and you sighed. You felt silly for crying, he was only in the next city. 

But you would miss his cheeky grin and his silly antics and- god what was wrong with you?

You missed your boy, and it was okay to do so. You didn’t know growing up would hurt so much.

A couple of months later, (Y/N) found a 14-year-old boy tied up and gagged on the floor in the Batcave.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, bending down to untie him as he glared up at you.

“Bruce, what is this?” You exclaimed, untying the gag.

“He kidnapped me!” The child said as you stared at Bruce incredulously.

“This is the child that tried to steal the tires. Hi name is Jason Todd.” Bruce said as he took off his cowl.

“And are we keeping him?” You asked, ignoring the child’s protests. Bruce looked at the teenager, crossing his arms and then at your hopeful eyes.

“Yes.”

When someone looked at Jason Todd, they would never guess that his biggest weakness was that he was a total Mama’s boy.

Jason loved those moments his ‘Ma’ would kiss his head after returning from work, and the way you would run your hand through his hair as you watched tv, or the way you would let him cuddle you as you read a book.

So your tradition with Jason was born. You would both curl up in some blankets, some hot chocolate and cookies nearby, reading. He would sometimes ask you to read, so that he could fall asleep next to you. You adored Jason, and cherished these moments with him. When he would fall asleep, you would close the book, moving so that Jason slept at a better angle. That last night, you smiled at his sleeping form, and thanked the lord for these miracles of yours.

He was only 15.

You remembered that is was April 27.

You also remembered Bruce coming home, bloody and broken and bruised and alone.

You remembered how the world stopped spinning suddenly, and it felt as if your head was underwater. It felt as if there were 1000 tons on your chest, about to crush it.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t think and it hurt.

You vaguely remembered falling, but someone- perhaps Alfred or DIck, who had suddenly appeared- caught you.

You remembered screaming and screaming until you lost your voice, and you cried and cried until you passed out. 

He was your baby, he was your life, he was your son.

And he was gone.

After Jason’s death, you slipped into a depression. You locked yourself in his room, refusing to come out for over three days until Dick had to climb through the window to make you eat. You refused to speak to anyone, and never left the manor. Bruce never went near you.

Dick moved back into the manor to help Alfred take care of you.

Sometimes, he would see you sitting in the garden, an empty look in your eyes as you stared at nothing.

It scared him so much, that the strongest woman he knew, the most amazing mother, was destroyed. 

You were broken, you were a walking corpse wit no more purpose to live.

Thats where the scars on your wrists came from.

You went into the bathroom, a picture of Jason in your lap as you whispered to him that

“Your Ma is coming to you, baby.”

Dick found you, pale, and nearly dead, sitting in a pool of blood. He rushed you to the hospital and you were there for over a week.

You were broken, and you couldn’t be fixed. 

About a year after Jason, Bruce bought him another boy, only 13.

You screamed and screamed and Bruce because he was absolutely crazy if he thought that you would let another boy go into danger, and you’d be damned if you allowed it. You yelled at him as Alfred gave the boy some food, and you started crying, because fuck, it hurt, and you missed Jason, and, fuck, Bruce, I can't do this alone.

He hugged you as you both cried, mourning your son together. Then you wiped your tears and went upstairs to the new boy under you roof. You swore that you would protect him, and you started going on patrols from that day on.

Your tradition with Tim started straight away. That day, both of you were playing video games, and eating chips and soft drinks and being overall unhealthy. That’s what you would do on the weekends after he did his homework. 

Tim loved when you made him coffee. You and Alfred were both strongly against his high coffee intake, so he had to brew it himself. But on those very rare occasions you made coffee for him, you would make it perfectly. He loved the way you made it, and a sip from your coffee was all he needed to go along his day.

Tim wasn’t happy. 

Bruce just brought home an 11-year-old who was his son.

Which meant that Tim was no longer the baby. He didn’t really want to make friends, which was great because neither did Damian.

“I can relate.” Dick chirped as he watched Tim’s scowling form. You looked up at him, confused.

“When Bruce brought home... Jason,” he said the name slowly, and the three boys noticed you flinch.

“You didn’t like him?” You asked, blinking back tears.

“No, it wasn’t that,” Dick chuckled. “It just... he never asked, ya know? It’s like he found a replacement for me. And it kinda sucked.” Dick told you and you looked at Tim and Damian who were having a glowering contest.

“I’m sorry.” You suddenly sobbed, covering your face. Tim shot up, dashing towards you as your body shook.

Dick hugged you as you cried.

“I could never replace you, okay? Never!” You hugged Tim, crying even more. Damian was confused, watching your sobbing form. He didn’t understand why Dick and Tim were so upset by your crying. Talia had described you as a bitch, and yet, as he saw the way you held your boys, he felt that maybe Talia was wrong.

Your tradition with Damian was originally just your Sunday programme.

You would binge watch tv shows like Sherlock or Game of Thrones or Downton Abbey, and suddenly there was a little boy curled up on the opposite couch, watching with you. That’s how you spent your Sundays, watching period dramas.

Damian would crawl into your bed during a thunderstorm. He was afraid of the thunder, and would cuddle up with you or Bruce at night. He said he’d rather with Bruce, but he, like Jason, was a Mama’s boy. He secretly loved when you’d cuddle him and hug him like there was nothing that could take him away from you.

Both he and Tim had noticed, though, that your smile never quite reached you eyes, and that everyday you would disappear for hours at a time, locking yourself in Jason’s room. They knew you how much it affected you, and they tried to make sure you were always happy, and that you never missed Jason.

But how could a mother not miss her child?

You were trembling, scared to go closer, scared to speak, scared to breathe lest he disappear.

He was older, more mature, and even had a white streak in his hair. 

But you still recognised him. You’d always recognise your baby.

“Jason?” Your voice cracked and he flinched. He looked up, meeting your eyes. He noticed how much older you looked. His gaze stopped at the scars on your wrists, and he felt guilty.

“Hey, Ma.” He muttered.

You hugged him, pulling him into you as you sobbed.

And then suddenly, you felt well, you felt whole. You felt perfect, not healed, because it was as if there was never a wound to begin with.

You pulled back and gazed at him lovingly, your thumb dancing along his cheek.

“Look at you.” You whispered, kissing his forehead.

“You’re all grown up...” 

You laughed, the most genuine laugh your children had heard from you in years, hugging him tightly.  He tightened his grip on you, trying to blink back his own tears.

“Oh, Jaybird... I’ve missed you so much.” You whispered as he cried.

“Ma...” 

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, Mama’s got you.” You hummed, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love you so much, baby.”

It was a few months before Jason stopped being so hostile towards the younger boys.

When Bruce came home at night, he was surprised to see you sleep on your shared bed.

With four black haired boys all curled up around you. Your arms were around Jason, and the other three had managed to slot themselves into any empty spaces they could find, which meant that Damian was on top of you.

With a smile, Bruce quietly slid into the mostly empty side near Jason, managing to wriggle his arms around you, pulling you all into his chest.

A chorus of sleepy groans were heard, which was answered by a laugh from Bruce who then kissed your forehead. Damian moved to climb onto of Bruce as Tim moved on top of you. 

You hummed a soothing tune as all five of your boys fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

[dc-x-readers]

He Calls Me Kitty Part 2 (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Hello, thank you all for the support of this fic, I will have you know this is more of a set up chapter, not much Damian x Kitty interaction but I really enjoyed exploring the characters of the other pets. I’m planning at least two more chapters and toying with a third more if I don’t like my ending

Just something to note any dialog in italics is spoken in ‘animal speak’ just for the distinction

Part One is here

“Damian!” A voice screamed surprising you so much that you jumped up.

The moment after awakening you were confused, why were you warm in a room? Why were you in cat form? And why were you sleeping under a desk? The memories of last night flooded through you, he saved me because he thinks I’m a poor kitty, and oh right, he’s Robin.

The door to Damian’s room slammed open and a young man jumped in. He dashed to the bed, and began jumping atop it, even with Damian still grumbling under the blankets. You stared at the scene before you with wide eyes.

“Grayson!” Damian shouted, he sat up and punched at the man who he called Grayson’s leg. Grayson fell onto the bed with an oof, but he wore an earsplitting smile that confused you. “Get out of my room!”

“But Dami! I heard you got a new kitty cat, I just wanted to meet it.” Grayson explained looking around the room. Oh hell no, you were not about to be petted by a grown man who still jumps on the bed. You let out a hiss before running to the door.

Or trying to run to the door, you forgot about your broken leg, instead of your normal graceful cat strides you fell onto you face. The older man couldn’t contain his laughter at your flop, but Damian rushed out of his bed to pick you up gingerly. As he cradled you to his chest (His bare chest!) he glared at Grayson before sticking his tongue out like the child he truly is. Grayson without missing a beat returned the gesture.

“TT.” Damian scoffed.

“You gotta get dressed for school kid.” Grayson finally said rolling of Damian’s bed. He stopped in front of Damian to scratch in between your ears. You hated the fact that you almost started to purr, it has been awhile since you had people try and pet you. To Grayson’s surprise you turned your head and nipped at the fingers he was using to massage your head.

Grayson pulled his arm back, but he wore a smile. “She’s as mean as you are Dami.” Grayson pouted.

“Or she just has good taste.” Damian countered, he put you down and you scampered away before anyone else could touch you, this time accounting for your broken leg.

____________

You spent the next couple of hours exploring the entirety of the mansion, you could hear others around, but the home was so large you didn’t run into anyone until at least half-way through the day, a Tuxedo cat who lay bathing in the sun of a window sill.

“Hello.” You mewled to him in the with your animal tongue, it was one of the things that had baffled your parents, you were able to communicate with animals as easy as speaking English, before you began transforming your parents watched as you had long winded conversation with your oversized St. Bernard about your day. Now it was a normal for you.

“You’re new.” the cat spoke without opening his eyes. “Did Damian pick you up?”

“Yes,” You answered.

“I’m Pennyworth, the original cat.” Pennyworth cracked his eyes open assessing you.

“My name is Y/N. But don’t worry original, I will be leaving as soon as my leg is healed.” You sneered. Pennyworth just yawned.

“New Friend!” A lumbering voice called behind you, you turned to see a giant black dog running towards you and Pennyworth. You wanted to scream and run away, but you stupid leg kept you from doing it. Instead you backed into the wall. The large dog bound to a halt right before hitting you.

The dog towered over you, a little bit of slobber dripping from his muzzle. Would he eat you? The mean street dogs would have devoured you in seconds, but this dog just stood above you wagging his tail.

“Titus you’re scaring the girl.” Pennyworth mused.

“Sorry!” Titus exclaimed backing up, he dropped to the floor so he was laying down and able to make eye contact, “I’m Titus. Do you want to play with me. I need more friends!” Titus barked whacking his tail against the floor. He is like one giant exclamation

You smiled softly at his words, and told maybe after your leg was healed, you didn’t have the heart to tell him you probably wouldn’t stick around that long. Titus was kind enough to explain how the manor worked, telling you the names of the people and the animals whom reside or make common appearances in the household. He took you to the what he deemed the most important parts of the manor, and when he noticed you were falling behind after his long strides let you climb atop his back and ride him like a horse.

The two of you were in the main foyer when Damian came home, he wore a private school uniform and had a plastic bag in his hand. Titus immediately perked up at the sight of Damian, wagging his tail and going to give his owner a wet kiss. You watched as Damian gently patted Titus’ head and laughed at his dog’s affection. Then his eyes set on you.

“Come here Kitty.” Damian said, but not waiting for you to follow through on the command, he swept you up in his arms and took off walking and you squirmed to get out of his grip.

You ended up back in Damian’s room, and he put you down on his desk, keeping a firm grasp on you so you wouldn’t run away.

“I need to wrap your leg again Kitty. You gotta let me so it can get better.” Damian huffed in annoyance.

You stared up at him with your big cat eyes, and sat your butt down on the desk, not squirming anymore, just pushing your injured leg out as far as you could so he could work on it. Surprise flicked through Damian’s features, and you briefly thought that maybe you shouldn’t have done exactly what he had said.

“Good. You’re smart, can have my pets any other way.” Damian smirked, and you were relieved that he didn’t think you were a human.

Damian set to work on you leg, giving you an encouraging pat every time you hissed or winced. He was gentle with you, he was nothing like the boy you had seen last night, tearing down your attacker, not the boy this morning fighting with his brother. This was a kinder Damian who cared infinitely about you and his other pets. This was the Damian you liked.

Once Damian was finished wrapping your leg he fished around in the plastic bag again for something else, you were surprised when he pulled out an electric blue collar, with a gold medallion on it, “I had to think of a name on the fly, so you’re just Kitty for now.” Damian murmured as he fastened the collar around your neck. You stared down at it eyes wide, had he just adopted you?

“I have to go Kitty, I need to help my idiotic brother Tim. If you ever tell anyone I called him my brother you will be back on the street. I’ll be back in a couple hours.” Damian explained, he left you in his bedroom, closing the door behind him, probably to keep you from running around and undoing the bandages that he spent a good hour working on.

You looked around the room with mild interest, before finally settling on Damian’s bed to take a nap, still in cat form, just in case.

You woke up to complete darkness, Damian was stumbling into his room, tired. You watched as he took stock of you on his bed, and smiled gently, he came over to you, and scratched gently between your years. “This was the longest patrol ever.” Damian complained, and he sat on the bed.

You didn’t like the feeling of being in the same bed as him. So you jumped off landing on the floor gently, Damian looked a tad hurt at your absence, but the expression changed immediately, “TT.” he sighed and got into his bed.

He turned his back to you, and you sat down watching the enigmatic boy bathed in moonlight.

Tag List @wannabe-weasley

[amsimaria]

Bittersweet

» Part three

He says, “Oh, baby girl, don’t get cut on my edges I’m the king of everything and oh, my tongue is a weapon There’s a light in the crack that’s separating your thighs And if you wanna go to heaven you should fuck me tonight.”

Author: amsimaria Word count: 6,1K Feature: Jimin x Reader (mentions of other BTS members) Genre: Angst/Slight smut (Rated M) Warnings: Gore, Violence, Mentions of sexual acts, Punk Jimin, Depression, Slight misogyny, Swearing, Alcohol abuse, Slight Smut, Mental illness. 

Waking up with a throbbing headache, Jimin notices a batch of grey-coloured hair with dark roots resting on his chest, when he opens his eyes to the sound of Hoseok’s strident laughter piercing through the apartment. Rubbing his eyes with his left hand, his gaze falls on the Rolex’s clock on his wrist, and he sighs when he sees it’s already passed 2 pm. Blinking a few times to recollect his memory, vague flashbacks reappear of watching (Y/N) run away while crying her eyes out, a vivid reminder of how people just couldn’t get too close to him. Thinking about it didn’t do his headache any good.   The worst thing about it was, that when he came home drunk that night with a horny Lily in his arms, the only thing he could think of was how it was (Y/N) who he was fucking, and moaning his name, not Lily. He wondered why it suddenly mattered who he fucked. Something about this girl made Jimin deranged and he hated it. Jimin knew his way around girls and they always seemed to line up, but girls were just girls, and he always made fun of boys who ended up being a slave to their boss, a.k.a. girlfriend. Committing wasn’t on his mind at all, girls were just one of those things that would only distract him from important things, so he made sure to bounce as soon as one of them started to show feelings for him.

Pushing a whining Lilly off of him, Jimin drags his naked self out of his bed and slips on a pair of boxers before wandering towards the living room of Namjoon’s apartment.

‘’Ah! Look who we have here!’’ Hoseok shouts from across the kitchen counter with a smirk on his face. ‘’Is the poor thing still alive?’’ He says in between the sound of his teeth chewing on a small piece of white gum, while cheekily smirking at Jimin.

‘’Huh?’’ Jimin murmurs while scratching his head in confusing. His eyes swollen and his voice hoarse from the heavy night.

‘’You were drunk as a sailor my man. we thought we would have to bury a body by morning.’’ Hoseok laughs, looking at Jungkook who’s counting a stack of benjamins on the coffee table with his hands.  

Ignoring the boys, Jimin open’s the tall fridge and grabs a cold can of coke from the top shelf to then hold it against his forehead in attempt to ease the pounding headache. He then sits himself down on one of the bar chairs that is standing beside the tall kitchen counter.

‘’Jimin, I need you to move some bricks tonight.’’ Namjoon calmly speaks up, not taking his eyes off his phone for a few seconds before looking at Jimin.

‘’Seriously? The fuck Jonie, can’t you just send one of your little street jugglers to do it?’’ Jimin asks annoyed.

‘’I’m talking about thousands of grams, Jimmy boy. I can’t send some seventeen-year-old rookie to these big buyers. Besides, I need someone that I can trust and someone that isn’t afraid to intervene when things don’t go to plan. Plus you’ll get a twenty-five percent cut when the job’s done. ’’

Grunting in response, Jimin lazily slides himself off the chair and walks over to the coffee table to take a cigarette from one of the opened packages.

‘’Alright, who are we dealing with here, hyung?’’ Jimin then asks, blowing the smoke through his plump morning lips while resting his forehead against the palm of his hand.

‘’Bunch of Russians. Nothing fancy. Apparently, Russia is in high demand for powder.’’ Namjoon begins, ’’I know you’re no good at negotiating and all that, so Jungkook is coming with you to do the talking. Also, Hope will snipe from a building near the location to make sure those fuckers don’t make a wrong move, alright?’’

‘’Jungkook is gonna do the talking?! You got to be fucking kidding me, man.’’ Jimin laughs humorlessly. ‘’My five-year-old nephew could do a better job at talking to mobs than this fucking coconut head.’’

‘’Go fuck yourself ’’ Jungkook shoots back at Jimin, flipping him off with a cigarette hanging from his lips.  

‘’And where the fuck’s V?’’ Jimin asks, his voice cracking from his sore throat.

‘’Tae and Yoongi are seeing some suppliers from Medellin tonight, and Jin and I are meeting some business-owners for money-laundering cuts, so Jungkook is all you got for the job, my boy.’’

Resting his forehead against the palms of his hands, Jimin let’s out a deep sigh before standing up.

‘’You better not fuck this up, Jungkook ’’ Jimin darkly warns towards Jungkook before returning to his bedroom.  

‘’Come lay with me please’’ Lily pleads when Jimin walks into the bedroom.

‘’You gotta go’’ Jimin replies coldly, his voice laced with annoyance.

‘’W-what.. Are you serious?’’ She asks frowning, pushing herself up on her elbow.

‘’Yeah, get your things and call a cab or something.’’ Jimin motions to her stuff. There are some bills left in the pocket of my jeans. Take it’’ He says as he walks towards the shower.

Running after him, Lily grabs Jimin’s arm and pulls him back angrily. ‘’Jimin, you can’t be serious?’’ She asks, her voice angry but desperate.

‘’Yes. I am. And if you don’t dress up and take your things within ten minutes, I’ll put you out without clothing and the whole neighborhood will know what you’ve been doing here last night.’’ Jimin threatens sternly.

Leaving a dumbfounded Lily behind, Jimin locks himself in the bathroom and starts showering.

Jimin knew Lily a few weeks now, and she was all over him from the first time they’d met at a college party. Jimin didn’t really like college parties but every now and then he would show up at one just to fuck shit up and sell some grams just for fun. Lily was just a spoiled little brat who wanted a taste of the bad boys and always got what she wanted. Jimin knew that if he kept seeing her, she would eventually refuse to let go and make a scene. He didn’t really feel like dealing with that.

Not seconds later, Jimin hears Lily furiously banging on his bathroom door with her balled fists.

‘’You dick!! I fucking hate you Jimin!!’’ Her voice cracking. Silence follows the banging and Jimin feels relieved to know she’d let it go. But not soon after, she starts speaking again. This time more desperate and forcefully calm.

‘’Jimin please, don’t do this..’’

Feeling a strong beam of light piercing through your closed eyelids, you slowly open your eyes to the sight of a familiar face.

‘’Hey Kiddo, how are you feeling?’’ The warm smile of your uncle welcomes you back as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

As you try to lift your head in an attempt to comprehend the situation, you feel your head bumping back into the pillow as it still feels heavy from the dizziness.

Looking around slowly, you see Naomi and Robin sitting on your left, both looking worried and exhausted.

‘’My.. My stomach hurts’’ You mutter, your expression showing discomfort.

Before painfully swallowing, your uncle begins, ’’The doctors had to get your stomach pumped.’’ he carefully explains, scratching the back of his neck.

‘’Wha- what..’’ You cough, your exhausted eyes big from panic.

Waiting for your uncle to inform you about the situation, you see him painfully looking down his lap and taking a deep breath.

Looking to your left you see Naomi mimicking your uncle’s movements, and you watch her expression turn to intense guilt.

‘’(Y/N).. Did you.. Did you try to end your life?’’ Your uncle then asks carefully, turning his gaze back to you, frightened of what your answer would be.

Blinking in the distance a few times, it only takes a couple of moments before your memories of last night come shooting back at you one by one.

The fight match, your collapse and then Jimin..  

The memory of Jimin’s presence that night was all too evident in your mind and the sore feeling of painful abandonment returned quickly and came with the metaphorical pain in your chest of feeling heartbroken and left alone by him. But who were you fooling? Even someone as defective as Jimin could see the wreck of a person hiding behind that thin layer of skin. Why did you let yourself believe you could ever be loved by someone when you didn’t even love you yourself? You hated yourself, and you hated it even more when people seemed to like you because when you did put on an occasional smile it was purely because that’s what you were supposed to do when someone was being kind to you.

You could already hear the agitating sound of your dad’s voice telling you how much harm you were doing to your parents by not having a smile on your face at weddings or family get-togethers because you felt miserable for being locked up in your room the night before for not finishing your plate. You hated the endless bragging about your oh-so perfect scores and behaviour. Sometimes you felt like your parents thrived on other people’s jealousy when it came to you. You were sick of it. Your family wasn’t about love, it was about how it all seemed like love to the outside world. Physical contact was also one of those unspoken taboos in your family. You viewed sex as nothing special or affectionate. Your parents never kissed nor did they ever hold hands, not even when they seemed to be in a good mood. You found happiness in the sadder things in life and people just couldn’t relate to you when it came to being genuinely happy. Maybe that was why you were drawn to Jimin so much - you felt like you had something in common with him. His dark eyes hid so much mystery. They were filled with regret, anger, torment. It was almost like they were screaming for affection in some wicked way. Looking into his eyes made you feel like you weren’t alone in the world anymore.

You felt sick, being rejected by Jimin that night.

You swallowed hard and closed your eyes at the thought of having spiraled down this far.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to kid.. Just know that we are here for you.” Your uncle reassures you warmly while placing a hand over your pale cold fingers.

You spend the following weeks at your uncle’s. Helping out your aunt with your 3-year-old nephew, and picking up your old routine by started going back to work regularly. You hadn’t spoken to Naomi in weeks. She had brought flowers to your uncle’s home but immediately left after your aunt had asked her to stay for dinner. You figured she must’ve been ashamed for letting Jimin drive you home that night when you weren’t feeling well. You didn’t blame her or consider her a bad friend for what she did. You knew Robin and Naomi meant well when it came to the decisions they made, they were just too naive and trusting when it came to people. They were your complete opposites - spontaneous, positive and careless. You loved how they would never ask you any deep questions about your past or ask you how you felt. They were light and natural, there was no pretending in them yet they would blend in so easily. You often fantasized about having that type of personality and being the sunshine in a crowded room.

‘’Have a good day kid, don’t let the stress get to your head.’’ Your uncle winked after dropping you off right in front of your work.

‘’I won’t.’’ You warmly smile before turning on your heel to enter the building.

When you walk in you see Jessica sitting legs crossed on the counter, adjusting her makeup in her pocket-sized Chanel mirror.

‘’Morning Jess’’ You greet your colleague, as you pass her.

‘’Hey, could you come over here for a sec?’’ She asks while still looking at herself in the tiny mirror.

‘’Sure, whats up?’’

‘’Does this skirt make my legs look fat?’’

‘’No? Your legs seem.. Normal.’’ You assure her unconvincingly while scratching your eyebrow.

You didn’t want to start off the day with her endless complaints and whining.

‘’Man, I had this great Tinder date yesterday. I think I’m in love. ’’ She sang before jumping off the counter and walking over to her bag to get her phone.

‘’Look this is him, his name is Andy and he’s Australian’’ She beams while holding her phone in front of your face.

Great. Another one of those pathetic stories about her oh-so exciting life. Just what you needed.

‘’He seems nice’’ You faintly smile while mentally rolling your eyes at yourself.

When you’re just about to walk into the back room, she starts speaking again, ‘’Do you even ever date?’’ She asks while continuing to star is her pocket mirror, almost sounding like a mean stepsister.

You hesitate to answer, but you were sick of Jessica always belittling you so your ego takes over and you answer before you can think. ‘’Yes, I date’’ You emphasize while closing your eyes to the words.

Sniggering at your response, Jessica shifts her attention to you.

‘’What? Is that so weird?’’ You ask a little too hostile while cocking an eyebrow at her.

‘’No, no. I just never really thought you were the dating type, to be honest.’’ She admitted. ‘’I  always thought you were kind of a loner or something’’

‘’Why is that?’’ You ask carefully, afraid of what her answer would be.

‘’Well like, Some time ago I heard you talking to yourself in the stockroom. I seriously thought you were like possessed or something, and like, after hearing why you stayed home for so long, the pieces just came together, you’re one of those crazy people, right? With like mental problems and such? She remarked in her obnoxiously dumb-sounding accent.

‘’I’m not crazy!!’’ You Shout, your hands clenched into fists as you stare at her with intense anger. Shocked by your sudden outburst you quietly gasp and quickly turn away from her.

‘’Jeez, calm down (Y/N). I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just calling it like I see it. ’’ She apathetically points out before walking over to her bag.  

[Nam Jones] You arrived yet?

[Jimmy crack corn] Nah, still 10 mins away. Is J ready?

‘’Did you fuck her when you got her home?’’ Jungkook smirks to Jimin who still has his eyes on his phone screen.

‘’No, why?’’ Jimin answers while giving Jungkook a confusing and irritated look.

‘’I don’t get your obsession with this chick, man’’ Jungkook smirks while shaking his head. If I’d driven her home that night, I would’ve tapped that piece of ass all night until morning’’ Jungkook continues while biting his lower lip and bucking his hips a few times to display his intention.

Jimin felt his blood starting to boil inside his veins.

Cocky little shit.  

Jungkook always acted like he was this big shot because he new Namjoon had a soft spot for him. Jimin knew all too well that Namjoon would make Jungkook his eyes and ears because Jungkook was a clever kid and Namjoon would let him follow in his footsteps. Jimin had never trusted him. He was cocky, quick with his words, and sly when it came to promises. Jungkook didn’t come from a broken home, he had all a boy of his age could ask for - daddy’s college tuition & mommy’s love and affection. Jungkook was one of those people who didn’t want to be on the right path even when it was that easy for him. He got lazy when things got too hard and his parents kicked him out when they found out he was doing crack. Namjoon took him in with open arms. Jimin often wished he could have had such a life. He didn’t have nice Christmases and happy birthdays. No, at Jimin’s home things were a bit more problematic. Having a gambling drunk as a father would have you think Jimin would see the light and not make the same mistakes, but nothing was further from the truth, Jimin turned to alcohol from the age of 12 and followed in the footsteps of his old man. He was ashamed of himself and ashamed of his past.

‘’You need to stay the fuck away from her, Jungkook. I ain’t playing.’’ Jimin warns angrily.

‘’Jesus, calm down Romeo. What’s up with you all of a sudden, huh? Jungkook smirks unaffectedly ‘’Are you in love or something?’’ Jungkook smiles jokingly, squeaking out a sound of mocking laughter.

‘’No? The fuck are you even on about?’’ Jimin barks while scrunching his eyebrows together angrily. ‘’Can we get back to work you dumb shit?’’ Jimin scoffs while taking his eyes back to the burner phone is his hand.

Chuckling in response, Jungkook presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek while swiftly turning the wheel.

[Nam Jones] Yeah, he’s got eyes on the Russians. Jimin don’t go fucking pissing them off alright? Just hand them the bricks, get the money and get the hell out of there. 

[Jimmy crack corn] Yeah yeah, don’t worry boss

[Nam Jones] alright, and don’t go pissing of Jk either.

Arriving at the arranged place, Jungkook takes a left turn and parks the Rover behind the concrete wall just past the entrance.

The place was an abandoned factory near a chemical plant. It was far south and there weren’t any citizens living there within a 4-mile radius so it would be a safe place to do business.

Getting out of the car Jimin starts scanning the place for unwanted visitors. While Jungkook opens the trunk to unload the 4 Louis Vuitton bags filled with bricks of uncut cocaine, Jimin walks back to the passenger seat and steps his right leg back inside the car, placing his M9 handgun behind the waistband of his jeans.

Carrying the bags to the arranged spot inside the old factory, Jimin and Jungkook stop a few feet in front of 5 Russian guys armed with massive machine guns.

‘’Fucking Mac-11’s? Jungkook, the fuck do we do now, huh?’’ Jimin whispers angrily ‘’They’re planning on fucking robbing us’’ ‘’What’s with the guns, boys?’’ Jungkook asks cautiously while keeping his posture straight.  

‘’Just some protection in case needed.. nothing to worry about. Now hand us the goods.’’ The big guy in the middle commands in a thick Russian accent, before motioning his head to their suitcases.  

‘’Payment first’’ Jimin replies stern while glaring into the eyes of what appears to be their leader.

‘’I don’t like him’’ The Russian guy daringly states to Jungkook, his voice unnervingly calm

‘’I couldn’t give a shit if you liked me, now hand over the money before we get the fuck outta here and you got jack shit’’ Jimin instantly shoots back.

‘’You better keep those pretty lips shut, boy’’  says a man standing next to their leader to Jimin, wearing a dangerous look on his face and a large scar on his temple.

‘’Jimin, shut the fuck up. We don’t have time for your fucking outbursts, alright?’’ Jungkook whispers angrily, before turning his eyes back to their leader.

Pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, Jimin turns his head the other way in fury and when he turns his head back to the five men, he finds the scarred man staring at him intensively.

‘’The fuck you looking at, cocksucker?’’ Jimin nods his head aggressively to the guy standing next to the leader.

‘’Honestly, I’m thinking about having your pretty mouth around my cock, boy. Shit, you are prettier than my wife.’’ The guy licks his lips while holding his hands out in front of him like he is holding a head and then thrusts his hips into his hands.  

After grimacing from disgust, Jimin grabs his handgun from behind his belt without thinking and shoots the man right between his eyes.

Everything after what seemed to happen in a millisecond - the four man quickly pointed their weapons towards Jimin and Jungkook and started shooting like crazy. Jimin, as fast as he was, managed to hide behind one of the large pillars, but Jungkook started running towards their vehicle and got hit in the thigh.

When Jimin points his gun towards the men, he hears the sound of echoing bullets hitting flesh. Turning his head around the pillar to see what happened, he sees three out of the four men laying on the ground and groaning in pain. Turning his head to see where the shooting was coming from, he sees Hoseok sending him an ‘’it’s ok’’ sign with his fingers. Turning his head back to the bloodbath, he squints his eyes and notices one of the men running toward the back with a black suitcase in his hand. As he starts running as fast as he can, Jimin points his gun towards the man and starts repeatedly shooting in his direction while chasing him like a maniac. The man turns his face around frantically and starts shooting in Jimin’s direction, but his hand isn’t steady so the bullets end up hitting the pillars and the ceiling instead of Jimin.

As Jimin’s breathing becomes rapid and his heart pounds three times as fast he could only think about making Namjoon see he was wrong about him. Jimin hated getting all the practical jobs and seeing Jungkook get all the praise for his smooth talk and clever ways of thinking when Jimin did most of the work. Jimin wanted Namjoon to see he was just as strategic as Jungkook. Maybe even better at it. He needed that money. He needed Namjoon to see he was capable of being in charge and being a thinker just as much as Jungkook was.

When Jimin manages to catch up to the man’s speed, he stops and points his gun directly at the man’s head and then pulls the trigger. He slows down when he sees the man collapsing on the ground with blood sliding down his neck from his bullet wound in his skull. Freezing in position for a few seconds, Jimin rests his hands on his knees and takes in the sight of the dead body from the man he killed.

He couldn’t believe how cold he had gotten over the years. Things like this didn’t bother him as much anymore. It was killed or get killed. He thought about (Y/N), and how disgusted she would be if she saw what he did, or worse, how little it did to him.

Trying to shake off the thought, Jimin starts running towards the man and grabs the suitcase.

As you slowly open your eyes at a buzzing sensation close to your ear, you start rubbing your eyes in confusion and you push yourself up on your elbows as you start staring into the darkness. When the buzzing sound repeats, your mind clears up and you reach for your pillow to grab your phone from underneath it. Squeezing your eyes together from the brightness of the screen, you notice the bright white letters displaying the word ‘’unknown caller’’ as it rang.

Staring at the screen, you hesitate for a moment to take the call, but after watching it ring for a couple of seconds you decide to answer without saying a word. Keeping your ear close to the speaker in the hope of catching something of a familiar sound, you hear the sound of smoke leaving lips and tense breathing following.

‘’Hello..?’’ You whisper carefully.

No sound.

Laying your head back down on your pillow, you continue listening to the tense breathing on the other end of the line. It was calming for some reason. After a few seconds of listening, you decide to speak again.

‘’Who is this? I am trying to sleep. It’s four o’clock in the morning’’ You say tiredly, your voice still and calm.

When you’re about to hang up, you hear a deep sigh, ‘’Don’t hang up,’’

Jimin.

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat as you process the sound of his boyish voice sounding so low and sad. You feel your heart pumping twice as much blood through your veins and all the anger you had for him dropped in one millisecond after you heard his voice again after all those weeks.

‘’Why..?’’ You whisper

A few moments of silence passed and your thoughts drift off to the memory of him touching your body and taking control over your lips. The memories made you feel like no joy in your sad life could make you feel, It was addictive. You never tried to be happy, you just tried to make it till the end of the day without feeling absolutely miserable. Happy wasn’t something you experienced, contentment was the word you used when your day was going better than other days. Sometimes you felt ungrateful for not being happy with the life you had. And the guilt made everything feel even worse, but it wasn’t the material things in your life you despised, it was you - your pathetic attempt to be like other people because you felt like your personality was based on selfishness and misery. Jimin touching you that day was the happiness you never knew.

‘’I did some horrible things today’’

‘’What things..’’ You cautiously say, as you stare into the darkness while holding your breath.

‘’God dammit (Y/N), I need to feel you. I wa- I want to fucking taste you.’’ He slurs drunkenly, his voice husky and low.

‘’You’re drunk..’’ You whisper, insecurity lacing your voice as you try to ignore his sexual statements.

‘’I’m not drunk, baby ’’ He says as you hear the smoke leaving his lips. ‘’Did you like having my head between your thighs, hm? He purrs, desire and sin lacing his voice.

Looking around in discomfort you swallow hard as you squeeze your thighs together.

‘’I did..’’ You slowly whisper.

‘’Good, good..’’ He slurs ‘’You taste sweet, like strawberries and whip cream’’ he then chuckles boyishly.

As you nervously chuckle back at his his lewd statement, a feeling of stupidity creeps up on you and makes you want to bury your head under the covers. You didn’t understand why he made you feel like a pathetic teenage girl that flushes every time he says something even slightly sexual to you. What was he doing to you?

‘’Don’t get all shy now, you weren’t so shy the last time I filled you up with my fingers. Damn, you were so eager and wet, your juices were practically dripping down your thighs mami,’’ He hums mischievously.

‘’Jimin please, I’m staying at my uncle and aunt’s house. They’re sleeping in the room next to me.’’ You beg in a whisper.

‘’Maybe I have to come and steal you away then,’’ Jimin slurs, jokingly.

‘’I would watch out if I were you,’’ You joke, ‘’my uncle is a cop you know’’

‘’Ah, is he now?’’ You hear him taking a sip of what sounded to be a half empty bottle. ‘’I’m so scared, baby’’ He sarcastically whispers in a low voice, sending a stream of direct shivers down your spine.

A few moments of silence fills up the line between you and Jimin until you start speaking again, ‘’Why didn’t you contact me or look me up?’’ You say as your soft, insecure voice suddenly sounding serious and desperate. ‘’You just left and you never even contacted me after? What do you want from me, Jimin? Why call me now if you don’t even care?’’ You snapped at him, your voice shaky from emotions.

Waiting for his response you hear him let out a deep sigh, and you the feel upcoming tears prickling your eyes as you don’t blink.

‘’I do care, I just.. I’m afraid to get close to you (Y/N) I don’t want to pull you into my world, it’s not for you.’’ Jimin’s sighs before taking another sip of his half empty bottle.

‘’Oh, wow. Aren’t you just an angel, Jimin. Caring so much about everyone around, you should really just get a medal for being such a sweet, caring person.’’ You snort sarcastically with your voice shaky from emotion. ‘’Why did you come into my world then?

‘’Fuck (Y/N), Why do you gotta be like this? Huh? He curses agitatedly. ‘’Don’t you think I don’t fucking struggle? Do you think I want this? I dream about you almost every night..’’ He sighs defeatedly. ‘’I wouldn’t even dare to come close to a girl like you if things were different.’’ Silence follows until he starts speaking again, this time in a softer and more controlled tone. ‘’Man.. The first time you looked at me at that club, I knew I wanted you all to myself. I don’t fucking know what to do with these feelings (Y/N).’’

You don’t react, you were sick of his colour coated bullshit. You didn’t want to fall for it again, even if that meant feeling lonely. You went downhill since you’d met him and you only blamed yourself for that. You wondered if love was always this painful. You always considered yourself smart enough to recognize real from fake, but now, when it were your own feelings standing on the verge of love and hatred, you couldn’t even tell the difference between truth and just plain bullshit. You suddenly understood why so many girls stayed with the guys that tormented them over and over again, not just on a theoretical level, but on an emotional level - It wasn’t a matter of ignorance, it was the distance they were willing to go for the one they loved. You’d just met Jimin and he made you feel more alive than ever.

‘’Can I see you?’’ He slurs desperately, his voice low and quiet. ‘’I’ll promise I won’t touch you with a finger, even though my hands are fucking aching for you.’’ he almost grunts

‘’I can’t, Jimin..’’ You say while instantly regretting it.

‘’Your voice calms me down, you know that? Ever since I’ve met you, I feel like you have this spell over me, ‘’ He chuckles ‘’Sounds dumb, doesn’t it?’’ he says, before you hear him sucking on his cigarette once again.

‘’Kind of..’’ You giggle

‘’God.. You sound so perfect. Every time you show up in my dreams, I wake up just before I get to touch you,’’  

‘’Really?’’ If it was meant or not, you couldn’t deny loving, listening to him praise you like this. His voice was so unique from anything you’ve heard and you could only imagine his beautiful face as he spoke so softly through his phone. You felt like you were almost in a state of dreaming, hearing him talk to you like this.

‘’Yes. Fuck, I can’t handle not seeing you, I have to have you.‘’ He grunts impatiently, ‘’Please (Y/N), please let me see you..’’

After hesitating for a little while, you get up from your bed and sneak towards your aunt and uncle’s room, checking if they slept deep enough to not notice you sneaking out.

As you press your ear gently against the wood of their bedroom door, you let out a shaky breath while trying to catch any of the sounds of their snoring. You could luckily hear your uncle’s loud snoring even when you backed up from the door so you sneak back to your room and take the phone from your bed.

After telling Jimin where to meet you, you quickly grab the black over-knee skirt you wore all day and slip on an oversized t-shirt before checking on your nephew and quietly tip-toeing downstairs.

You told Jimin to meet you at a playground just a couple of blocks from your aunt’s and uncle’s house. The playground you used to play there when you were a kid. You always loved staying at your uncle’s when you were younger. They took you to playgrounds and overall kids places where you could get dirty and lose your energy like normal children could. Your parents never used to let you play outside. They always told you you would get dirty and become one of those hyperactive children that wouldn’t listen to their parents. It was fucked up to think you’d spent your entire summer at home, watching children play outside while you were sitting inside, mostly playing educational games or reading books you didn’t really understand.

As you near the playground your heart starts to race inside your chest when you see a dark silhouette, leaning against the wall of the building next to the playground, forming the perfect shape of a young god with his hands in his pockets. The empty sensation of being in love filling up your stomach, and the heat rising to your face when you see his wide set eyes taking you in as he sees you nearing him. 

The heavy breathing causes you to freeze in position when you stand only five feet away from him.

Pushing himself off the wall with his heel while eyeing you intensively, he takes a few steps towards you, gently takes your hand and softly guides you to the wall. Taking your face in his right hand, his thumb gently strokes the line of your jaw while he studies every inch of your face before looking back into your eyes. The familiar scent of him filling up your senses as he strokes your face in a loving manner.

Your memory of him had gone vague after the days and you couldn’t believe how much more beautiful he was in the flesh. You were almost angry at yourself for not remembering every perfect inch of his face. Your eyes, glued to his lips as your breathing becomes more heavily as you fantasize about feeling them on yours yet again.

‘’I’m gonna kiss you,’’ He then whispers in a low tone, and you almost flinch in reaction. Blinking a few times while staring into his eyes, you quickly nod and you see his lips instantly curving into a sly smile. With that, he inches his lips over to yours and the feeling of his soft lips pressing onto yours causes a tingle to rise over your back. As his lips dance with yours, his hand glides down your neck, gently grabbing it to intensify the kiss. When he starts kissing along your jaw line, down your neck, you feel the heat rising in your core and you clench your thighs together in an attempt to still your senses.

‘’I can’t fucking stay away from you, (Y/N),’’ He grunts as he gently bites down onto the tender flesh of your neck. Moaning at the sensation of his teeth grazing your skin, you feel the bulge in his jeans pressing onto your stomach, making you instantly fantasize about him filling you up completely.

‘’Jimin.. What horrible things did you do? ’’ You breathe, as you remember the words he said to you through the phone.

‘’Don’t worry about it, baby.’’ He purrs as he presses his lips onto yours again. When you feel his hand squeeze your butt longingly, a moan escapes your mouth, muffled by the kiss. After a few minutes of eager squeezes and clothes pulling, you reach for Jimin’s jeans and open his button with a snap. Giving in eagerly, Jimin’s bulls down his jeans, showing his firm and muscled thighs and his white boxers covering his throbbing member. He then hungrily lifts up your skirt and then hastily lifts your legs onto his hips. You knew he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. The sound of your rapid breath fills the quiet space around you, and just as you’re preparing yourself to take him in, you open your eyes to a familiar sound.

‘’(Y/N)?’’

When you open your eyes in shock, you see your uncle standing ten feet away, His eyes wide with horror and his hand covering his mouth.

[timelordthirteen]

A Very Little Key

Rumplestiltskin/Belle, G

Summary:  For the January prompt at @a-monthly-rumbelling: forbidden room. Belle opens a forbidden room in the Dark Castle, but it's Rumple who has to deal with the consequences.

Notes:  Super mega thanks to @mariequitecontrarie for fixing all my typos and giving this a good polish. You are the best, sweetie! The title is from the quote: “A very little key will open a very heavy door.” by Charles Dickens.

[AO3]

Rumple stood by the end of the bed, staring down at the tattered shirt. The sleeve was ripped now, a product of his impulsive rage. He could fix it with magic and a thought, but he preferred to take it up to his tower and stitch it as he had on so many evenings in the village, with a thin needle and thread he spun himself.

There was the matter of his maid, however. Belle had run out of the room near tears, her face a mix of confusion and hurt that stabbed his soul. He’d done that to her, his rage and his cowardice. He could have told her the truth, but instead he’d shut away the memories and forbade her to open the door. It was the only room in the castle she was forbidden to enter, so of course when he foolishly left the lock undone, she’d let her curiosity get the better of her. It was one of the things he - liked - about her.

One of many things.

With a sigh, he carefully folded the shirt, minding the torn sleeve, and with a puff of purple smoke sent it to his workroom in the north tower to mend later. He took a slow, deep breath and looked to the door, still open to the hallway. Belle was probably crying in her library, and it was hers because who the hell else was he going to create a library for. He hadn’t been that angry or cruel since she’d come here, not even when she’d almost ruined his plans to trap the Black Fairy. Since that moment in the woods, when he’d spared Robin’s life and she’d throw her arms around his neck, the first touch, first kindness he’d known in decades, she’d become mistress here. He’d given her a room of her own and an armoire full of pretty dresses, and free reign over the grounds.

All except this room.

Rumple slumped onto the bed, sitting heavily on the fluffy mattress. He couldn’t fault her for wondering why when he would do the same thing. They were both a little too impulsive and curious sometimes. Now perhaps he’d shattered their fragile peace, and she would leave him. She’d probably demand it even, order him to break their deal, and if he didn’t she’d spend the rest of her life in his castle avoiding and hating him. She knew the Black Fairy was his mother. She knew he’d once been a spinner, a poor, normal man. She knew more about him than any other living soul. But she didn’t know about his son. The rest seemed unimportant compared to that.

He couldn't help but think that Baelfire would adore Belle if he knew her. She was sweet and kind, adventurous and brave, all the things Bae had been. The realization brought him to tears, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the first one fell, landing on the blue silk of his sleeve and darkening it. Like his soul, he thought, every black action darkening it a bit more.

With Belle around, though, he felt - lighter somehow. She’d brought a light into his life he hadn’t known since Bae was lost. It renewed him and helped him carry on when he thought he’d despaired so long there was no hope anymore. The least he could do now was let her go peacefully, return her to her kingdom richer than when she left, and his life poorer for having lost her. He’d driven her away, just as he had Baelfire.

Belle sniffled, the sound echoing in the high arched space of the library. The fire was quite warm but she shivered again anyway. The flames danced and dipped, but all she could see staring back at her were Rumple’s eyes, hurt and angry. It was all her fault. She should have never gone in that room, but the lock was open and it was like some kind of sign, a breadcrumb to follow, and like so many times before a rash decision had gotten the better of her.

Rumple might even be angry enough to throw her out, cast her into the cold snow and let her fend for herself. She wanted to believe he couldn’t be that cruel, not now that they’ve come so far, but she hadn’t seen him like that since the very early days of her life here. She kept hoping he might open up to her, but maybe they hadn’t come as far as she’d like to believe.

But still she wondered, did he have a child? Did he want a child? Was he planning to steal another baby and raise it as his own? That seemed like a logical reason why he wouldn’t want her in that room, why he wouldn’t want her to know it existed. Because he knew she’d try her damnedest to stop him.

A noise from the stairs startled her and she twisted on the sofa to see the man in question coming up the last step. He seemed hesitant to approach her. His hands were folding and unfolding in front of him, as they often did when he was flustered or nervous.

She swallowed and shifted on the sofa. “Rumplestiltskin?”

He winced. Rumplestiltskin not Rumple, and no soft, pretty smile.

“Yes, um,” he said, poking at a loose stone in the floor with his boot. His fingers clenched and he dug his nails into his palms. “I, uh, -”

He shut his eyes and took a breath, and then opened them to meet her questioning gaze. “I am sorry,” he managed to get out, finally. “If I, uh, upset you.”

Belle frowned. An apology, one that sounded sincere even, was the last thing she expected. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t know what to say.

“If you wish to leave the Dark Castle -”

“No!” Belle said suddenly. “No, I - I don’t want to leave.”

Rumple nodded and pressed his lips together. His hands unclenched and he idly brushed the dark wood edge of the sofa. After a moment she shifted over and patted the space beside her. He moved and then sat down, keeping as much space between them as possible.

He licked his lips, eyes darting between her face and the floor, the fireplace and the space between them. Her hand was still resting on the sofa, her palm open and fingers splayed, like she wanted him to take it.

“You, uh, you will stay - then?” he asked, holding his breath while he awaited her answer.

When she nodded, he exhaled quietly and stared at the fire.

“I promised forever, didn’t I?” she asked, and he glanced at her only a moment before answering with a soft yes.

Belle frowned a bit, and inched her hand closer until her fingers brushed the sleeve of his shirt. She liked the blue silk he was wearing. Usually he was in red or gold or black, but the blue was so different, softer somehow. And it was her favorite color.

The brush of her fingers through the silk on his arm made him shut his eyes. He wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t dare. She deserved better than a monster. Why she agreed to stay he didn’t understand, but if she was still going to be in his castle he could at least give her more space, maybe even expand her room. She need never see him if she didn’t want to.

“So,” she started. “Those things. They were - yours?”

Rumple sighed and shook his head. “My son’s.”

Belle let out a soft oh, and then reached for his hand. Her touch must have startled him because his arm jerked away and he looked at her in shock.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, pulling her hand back into her lap.

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes until she finally sighed and turned to face him.

“Where is your son?” she blurted. Then she silently admonished herself and added, “if - if I may ask, that is.”

He gave her a small, half smile, and sighed. “I - lost him. A long, long time ago.”

Another quiet, breathy oh left her lips, and she cautiously put out her hand again. This time he let her take his, frowning at the contrast, her tiny hand so soft and pale against his dark and mottled skin.

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand and swallowed hard, a lump catching in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes. It must have been so hard to lose a child. She could tell that however much time had passed, if he still kept his son’s things he must feel the pain acutely.

“No matter,” he said, eyes still fixed on their joined hands. “I may yet find him one day.”

She frowned. “He’s not -?”

Rumple looked up and realized she was almost crying. Oh. She thought that his son - oh gods let it not be true. He needed to believe that Baelfire was alive and well in another realm, waiting to be found.

“No,” he said hoarsely. “No, he’s - just lost.”

Belle exhaled and ran her thumb over his knuckles. “Oh, well that’s - he’s alive then?”

He looked up and smiled again, nodding. “Yes. He, um, he fell.”

“Fell where?” she asked, shifting closer. There was only a small gap between them now where their hands rested on the sofa.

“Through a portal to another world,” he answered, his eyes automatically going to the fire as he recalled the swirling green vortex that took his son. That he should have fallen into as well if not for his own cowardice.

Belle thought for a minute. “Can you - go after him?”

At that he looked at her strangely. His head tilted slightly like he was seeing something new. Then he smiled a real smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Yes,” Rumple said. “At least I hope so. I have - been trying, for some time.”

“Trying to find a way to get to him?”

He nodded again. “It was my fault.” Her fingers tightened over the back of his hand, and in a small moment of bravery, he turned his palm over, letting her thread them through his.

“I was supposed to go with him,” he explained. Somehow the warmth of her hand in his loosened his tongue and made him want to tell her everything. He needed to be careful, though. Even if he might be able to trust her, there were those who might use her against him.

Belle pulled his hand into her lap, resting it in the folds of her skirt. “Why didn’t you?”

Rumple sighed heavily, and for the first time she saw the full weight of the burden he carried. Not the dark magic that coursed through him or the knowledge of centuries, but the loss of a son that he knew might still be out there, waiting for his papa to find him. Her lip trembled and fresh tears stung her eyes.

“I - was - I -” he stuttered. Her other hand enveloped his, cradled it between hers.

“I was a coward,” he said finally. “I made a promise to him and I broke it. The only deal I ever broke.”

He looked away as his vision blurred. He could not cry in front of his maid. He was the Dark One. He was -

“You’re not,” she said simply, and he twisted to look at her, frowning and stunned at the same time.

“You’re not,” she repeated. “A monster.”

Oh. He’d said the words out loud.

“A monster wouldn’t keep his child’s things, or search for a way to find him, or - apologize,” she said. “A monster wouldn’t -”

Love, he thought. Monsters weren’t supposed to love. But he did, so very much. His son, his sweet Bae. And maybe -

“Care,” she finished.

He sighed and nodded. Perhaps in a way she was right. He let his eyes close for a second, his breathing a bit ragged from the swell of raw emotion, and when he opened them he found that she was much closer. He looked down and their legs were touching, her hands still holding his.

“Thank you, Rumple.” And then she smiled. “Will you tell me his name? What was he like?”

He blinked and caught himself smiling again. “Baelfire,” he said, the name almost catching in his throat. “Bae.”

She repeated it and pressed their joined hands to her body.

“He was -” He paused, scrunching up his nose as if deep in thought. “Brave.”

The words came more easily after that. He told her stories of young Baelfire’s antics, long before he’d become the Dark One, and she matched them with tales from her own childhood. It turned out the lady was not so proper after all.

“I hope -” She paused to meet his eyes, an almost shy smile curving her lips. “I hope I get to meet him someday.”

Rumple nodded again, and leaned back against the sofa, finally allowing his body to relax. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Bae would like to meet her too. How could he not? For she already had a monster smitten.

[emmaswanchoosesyou]

Moving In (3/4)

*insert “I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me” gif* I’m back and working on WIPs again! Seriously, so sorry about the wait.

So I present the 3rd chapter of Moving In, in which everyone struggles with feelings.

Walking on the wild side and presenting this sans beta.

Warnings: Rated T for some strong language. There is some light non-CS romance, but it’s not written in detail. ~1900 words.

Also on Ao3.

Day 55

Emma yawned. She couldn’t remember ever having been this tired. Her work demands hadn’t lessened at all, as the department was still dithering about who to hire. And they had turned down her time off request for days around the holidays. Time she usually had off. Ugh.

But at least she had today off. It was Thanksgiving, and she was excited for the extra time with her family and friends.

From her place in the recliner, she smiled sleepily at everyone else. They had feasted earlier in the day and were now in the living room ostensibly watching football. In reality, nearly all of them were dozing to some degree.

She bit back a giggle at the couch where David sat between both Mary Margaret and Killian, both asleep on his shoulders. He met her eye and gave a long-suffering sigh, and she shook with silent laughter.

They were all here today, even those who weren’t American. Liam and Robin were back in the kitchen doing dishes, and Tink had pulled some blankets and pillows on the ground. Regina was in the other recliner, looking remarkably refined for someone who was out hard.

Emma shook her head in amusement. She had no idea how Regina did it–working as mayor, taking care of her stepson, keeping this house in immaculate shape, and hosting lovely Thanksgiving parties. Roland wasn’t here today, having gone down to Boston to spend the holiday with his mother. Pity. Emma liked the kid.

Killian let out a particularly loud snore. Emma laughed, and David burst into giggles. The motion seemed to annoy Mary Margaret into pulling away from him, but Killian snuggled closer. “Emma,” he whispered groggily, burrowing his face in David’s shoulder.

She felt her face turning tomato red, but David just looked at her and raised a questioning eyebrow. Pretending she didn’t see and hadn’t heard, she looked over at the television screen and feigned interest in the proceedings.

Things had been…decent between her and Killian for the last few weeks. Those annoying feelings hadn’t gone away, but she finally felt like she could be herself around him. He had been solicitous since then, his caution and attentiveness making her wonder if he might not be entirely uninterested.

She pushed the thought away. There was no point getting her hopes up at this juncture just because he’d been extra nice and they’d cuddled a little. She was a grown-ass woman, and she intended to act like one.

Day 60

Liam plopped down next to Regina in the booth and looked across at David and Mary Margaret. “So, what’s the occasion? Not that I don’t appreciate the chance to have pie with such lovely company.”

David and Mary Margaret exchanged looks, and Regina looked into her coffee with a knowing smirk.

“We think something is maybe going on between Emma and Killian,” David said.

Liam raised an eyebrow. “And you decided this how? They’ve been friends for ages.”

“That hardly precludes them developing feelings for each other, idiot. Which they clearly have,” replied Regina with a roll of her eyes.

“What I think they mean is that on Thanksgiving a couple things happened that made us wonder if they’ve gotten involved, or if they at least feelings for each other,” explained Mary Margaret, recounting Killian’s sleepy call for Emma and her blushing.

He leaned back. “Huh, I guess it’s not that surprising, though Killian denied it when Tink and I brought it up.”

“You already asked him?” Mary Margaret sounded dismayed.

“Aye, and he was a slippery little weasel who denied everything.”

“Then what we need to do is work on Emma.”

Day 62

It had been two months since he and Milah had broken up. Two months of misery, of apathy, of hurt. But today when he woke up, Killian had found himself feeling something he hadn’t in a long while–hope. Normality.

Whether it was the passing of time, the support of his friends and family, or those annoying hints Liam and Tink had been making about Emma…he was ready to start looking forward.

Killian wasn’t ready to jump into a relationship, with Emma or anyone else. But the idea didn’t feel foreign anymore. Milah might not be his future, but his future could be a good thing.

—

Later that day, Emma was sitting at her desk when one of her fellow cops approached her. Lance was the good sort, and not bad looking to boot.

“Evening, Swan. How’s it treating you?”

She answered with a groan. “I don’t remember the last time I was home for a full day. I’ve forgotten the sight of a blue sky, and the smell of berries in the air.”

“Okay, Tolkien,” he said, laughing.

“How about you?”

“So much of the same. I don’t remember what normal life is like.”

“Right? The last time I’ve had food I’ve cooked for myself was I don’t even know how long ago.”

“Don’t I know it! Well, hey, along those lines–would you be interested in grabbing a bite somewhere nice next time we’re off duty at the same time?” He looked so earnest as he said it.

“Oh, uh,” she paused. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now. Sorry–”

Lance smiled at her reassuringly. “Don’t sweat it, Emma. If you change your mind, let me know,” he said as he walked past.

She stared as he walked away, confusion and contemplation warring within.

Day 63

“Emma…have you considered dating again? It’s been a while for you,” Mary-Margaret said, concern (condescension, Emma’s brain unhelpfully supplied) dripping from her voice.

“Uh, have you heard about how busy I am? I hardly have time to eat and take a shower, let alone go on dates with people.”

David nodded at her, but said, “We’re just worried. We don’t want you to feel lonely or isolated, especially with all the big changes.”

She looked at them blankly. “Big changes?”

“Yeah, remember the whole me being pregnant and David moving out to live with me? And then the Killian and Milah breaking up part, him moving in with you, and him being ready to move on?”

“Oh. Wait, moving on?”

“Yes, Emma. And we think you should move on too. It’s…it’s time. You deserve someone who cares about you.”

“And you think–” Emma began but was interrupted by David.

“–that it’s been too long since you had that.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat–it was obviously clear to her friends that Killian didn’t share her feelings, and they would know. “Okay. But let me handle it? No set ups or anything.”

They exchanged looks but agreed.

—

“That went way better than I thought it would,” said David.

Mary Margaret agreed. “Almost too smoothly.”

“Nah, I think Emma is just ready to open up.”

“I’m just so glad she’s going to talk to Killian.”

Day 65

During the few moments they’d both been home, Emma had awkwardly done her best to be normal around Killian. Which was to say she felt like she had forgotten the meaning of the word “normal”.

But of course, she hadn’t had much time around the apartment. Her few days off were taken up by catching up on sleep–not even a crush could keep her from her bed.

Today she found herself at work, staring at the back of Lance’s head while he did some paperwork.

She wasn’t in a funk or anything, not really. Sure, it had been a while since Elsa, but nothing so dire as her brother and Mary Margaret were painting it. And she might have been doing some pining over Killian…and that obviously had to stop. She couldn’t go with that twisting feeling, that gnawing uncertainty every time she saw him. The poor guy didn’t need her mooning while he tried to get over his long-term relationship.

So Emma made up her mind. Crumpling up a piece of paper, she threw it across the room at its other occupant. “Lance!”

“Swan, you know you could have gotten my attention without hitting me in the head with post-its.”

“But everyone loves my flair for the dramatic,” she said drolly.

He snorted and turned to face her. “So what’s up?”

“You know how a couple days ago you told me that if I changed my mind about us getting dinner that I should tell you? Well, this is me telling you.”

She felt some satisfaction at how (pleasantly) surprised he looked. “Oh, uh, yeah. Is…is tonight too soon? It’s just I think we’re both off at a reasonable time.”

“I can do that.”

—

She was home. Leaning against the door, she let out a breath of relief. The evening had been…fun. It was easy and uncomplicated hanging out with Lance, and it had been such a nice date.

Emma still felt a pang when she thought of Killian just a couple rooms over, but she…she would do what she needed to to move on. And she might even have a good time doing so.

Day 85

Killian wasn’t jealous, per se. He just had some reservations about Emma dating Lance. For god’s sake, they worked together! Too many perils there for it to be a good thing.

And that was how he found himself at home on a Sunday, absolutely not sulking before Emma went off on her third date with Lance.

Maybe it was the timing of it–him deciding he was ready to move on, and considering giving it a go with Emma (and being fairly sure she had at least a little interest in him), only to learn she had decided to date someone else. And she had been…awkward around him since then. On the rare occasions when they saw each other, she had been distant and and uncomfortable in a way she hadn’t since they met over a decade ago.

And yes, it felt petty to be jealous of a guy like Lance, who seemed to be an all-around decent fellow who treated Emma with respect and friendship. But he couldn’t seem to shake it, and he could just feel his jaw clenching when he saw the man.

Tonight felt particularly fraught. It was their third date, and Killian tried not to think about things generally associated with said date. Obviously, Emma was free to do what she wanted, but…it hurt a little.

If only he could pin Emma down to maybe talk about why.

Speak of the devil and she doth appear, he thought as Emma emerged from her room.

“Oh! Hey, Killian.”

“Ready for your evening out, eh, Swan?” He hoped his cheer didn’t ring quite as false as it felt.

“Uh, yeah. It’ll be fun.”

“What are you all up to tonight?”

“We’re going out to dinner and then I think we’re going to hang out. Maybe watch a movie or something.”

“Ah, that does sound like…fun. Third date, too?”

A loaded, awkward pause, and then she replied, “Yeah, that should be…fun.”

“Well, have a good night!” God, he couldn’t sound more insincere if he tried.

Her response was equally strained sounding. “You too!”

She ducked out the door, and Killian buried his face in his hands.

He was fucked.

Tagging a few friends who hopefully still remember the story: @annytecture, @lenfaz, @shady-swan-jones, @timeless-love-story, @lillyanjones, @galadriel26

[thefightingbull]

Two Robins On A Perch

           Jason sat on the edge of an abandoned warehouse's rooftop, his legs dangling off the side, red helmet placed next to him while he smoked a cigarette. His intense teal eyes focused on the slow sunrise on the horizon. The black night to one side of him, while creeping morning made its move for dominance; it was a scene he had always been hypnotized by. It wasn't that he thought it was a lovely scene or that he had some fond memory; no, it was just the oddness that caught his attention. That so much darkness and light could be seen all at once made him feel edgy but strangely comforted.

           Tonight, he was exhausted and found this place to wind down a bit before going to bed. He pulled a gun-metal gray flask from his black leather jacket and took a swig of his whiskey before taking another drag. He barely noticed the pain in his left arm anymore, though he noticed his hand was bloody, which meant the knife wound had opened up again. At the moment, he didn't care though, he just wanted to sit on this summer morning and not think about anything.

           “You really should get your arm bandaged.” Now that was a voice he had least expected to hear. Not that he had been expecting anyone at all, but if someone was going to bother him on a rooftop he would have thought it would be a beautiful blue-bird, or even a grumpy old bat. Taking another drag, Jason casually glanced over at Red Robin, his replacement and according to Dickie-Bird, his little brother.  He removed the domino mask from his face. “Would you like me to help?”

           “What the fuck do you want, Pretender?” Jason snarled.

           “To talk.” Tim stated calmly.

           That was always his way, a way that Jason hated, probably because it was so obviously opposite to him. The calm, reserved and genius 'Boy Wonder' the third, had rarely ever lost control of his emotions. He was all logic and no heart, like he was just a robot that pretended to be human. That was another reason Jason liked to call him Pretender. Even at eighteen, the boy had yet to have a complete emotional breakdown. Of course, Dick had often told him of how Tim lost his temper around their baby brother Damian, but to Jason that didn't count. Damian was the spawn of the devil and capable of enraging a snail if left alone with it for too long.

           Despite his curiosity, Jason refused to ask what he wanted to speak with him about. Why was this stupid kid talking to him anyhow? He had been made to believe that while Tim wouldn't back down from a fight, he was frightened enough of Jason's 'instability' to ever seek him out on his own. It was something Bruce, Dick and even Alfred had tried to talk to him about.

           “Go away, Replacement before I throw you off this fucking roof.” The former Robin growled before taking another drag and looking back out at the sky.

           “You're issues with me are exactly why I am here. I can't go on like this anymore, Jason. We have to talk through this, or fight through this. I don't really care which, but I...” As Jason looked up at the young man he was surprised to see the sheer amount of emotion in the boy's crystal blue eyes.

            The Red Hood could handle Damian's temper tantrums, he could understand Bruce's cold responses, Hell he could even put up with Dick's obnoxiously cheerful and upbeat attitude but this emotionally confused Tim Drake was not something he wanted to deal with, let alone felt comfortable being around.

           “Look, I have had a long night and dealing with you while you are on the rag is the last thing I want to do.” Jason shook his head as he stood up. “Besides, you are killing my buzz.”        

           “To Hell with your addictions!” Tim growled as he stood, his eyes burning with unshed tears. “Please, Jason, just let me speak and after I am done, you never have to talk to me again if you don't want to. I swear.”

           While Jason normally would have laughed and cruelly poked fun of the boy for being so upset, this time was different. He heard it in the young man's voice, the desperation and the heartache. He wanted so badly to throw him off the roof, but instead he found himself sitting back down and taking another gulp from his flask. He offered it to Tim, knowing he wouldn't accept.

           “No thank you,” Tim said as he took a deep breath. “I have tried to speak to Dick about this issue between you and I, mostly because I know he initially resented you back when you were the replacement, but Dick has never been hateful like you so he couldn't help much. Then I tried Bruce, but mentioning you...Let's just say he can't help much either. I even tried to talk to Damian because he is as hateful as you can be, but that was about as pointless and hurtful as banging my own head into a wall.”

           “Get to the fucking point!” Jason snapped impatiently.

           “Jason, I didn't replace you.” Tim spoke softly, his courage almost failing him as he looked to his older brother. “Bruce doesn't replace any of us. He may add to his family, but that doesn't mean he forgets or stops caring about us.”

           “Just stop, Pretender. You are driving me crazy.” Jason growled as he pulled out yet another cigarette and lit it while dropping the other. “I don't need the after school special from you, got it?”

           “Why can't we move passed this, why do you have to hate me?” The sound in Tim's voice was so hurt, so broken that Jason nearly dropped his cigarette. “I know that we aren't a perfect family, and that I in particular seem so distant and...mechanical, but the idea that you hate me...”

           As a tear fell down Tim's cheek, Jason winced but hid it behind taking another drag from his cigarette. Why was this bothering him so much? He didn't normally give a single shit what the Bat family thought or felt, yet watching Tim try so hard to express his pain, his need for acceptance and approval....It brought him right back to his own struggles as being 'The Replacement' and what was worse? Tim was right. Dick wasn't near as hateful or cruel about being replaced like Jason had been.

           “Grow up Tim.” Jason snapped, his own guilt ridden anger lashing out unexpectedly.

           Another tear dropped as Tim's head hung. “You are right.” He said calmly, pushing all of his emotions away as he wiped his eyes.

           This was the real reason he pretended not to care, not to feel much except anger when Damian bothered him. It was easier when people accidentally hurt feelings that they didn't know he had versus purposely hurting him.

           “I just thought you ought to know that Dick didn't become a good brother because he liked me better than you, he did it because he was trying to make up for how he treated you, just like Batman has tried to make up for being a terrible father to you. You were dead, you asshole. There wasn't much they could do for you except honor a memory of a boy who they believed would have wished them happiness and ease of conscience.” Tim added before turning his back on the Hood.

           “Don't you dare talk to me like that, you little shit! You think you know what we all feel just because you are a genius? You aren't anything but a walking calculator that pretends to feel once in a while! A pretender and a replacement!” Jason shouted bitterly.

           With anger Tim turned, his domino back over his eyes, hiding the flashing blue. “You rotten, selfish bastard! What is your problem? Daddy didn't kill the monster under your bed?” Red Robin growled as he approached the still seated Jason. “What the Hell kind of son wants his father to destroy his own soul? What kind of son wishes for nothing but pain and misery to befall his father and anyone close to him? Do you have any idea what it was like to be your 'replacement'? To know that every time Batman was near me, it was only to do a job and nothing else? To know that I would never be his son like you were because he wouldn't let me be. You and Dick and Damian... you all three whine and bitch and moan about your lack of time with him, and even though I have been Robin for the longest time, I am the one he thinks about least. The one he forgets about. The one he kept at a distance for the longest time. Dick was his first, you were the one he failed to save and Damian is his son... but what I am, Jason? Tell me, you seem to know everything! You have all the answers!

           “It makes me just a replacement, right? Just a stand in until something better came along. Poor little Red Hood, crying on a roof top because no one loves him, yet at different times you have been asked by nearly everyone in the family to come home. What are you waiting for? A written invitation?”

           Jason blinked up at his little brother and found himself at a loss for words. He had heard very similar rants from Dick and Bruce, but they hadn't affected him the way Tim's voice behind them had. He remembered the pain of rejection when Dick first met him, the cold demeanor of Wayne whenever he made a mistake or didn't quite do as well as Goldie. He knew exactly what it felt like to be the replacement and to be the fuck-up. He had never once wondered what it would be like to be his own replacement. What had Bats been like with Tim Drake? It was no secret that it had taken quite a while before Bruce had finally started to open up and let the boy into his heart. Even Bruce had admitted that to Jason during one of their heated arguments.

           Tim shook his head and started to walk away. “So long Jason.”

           Jason rolled his eyes as he shook his head. “Just sit down and shut up. You got your chance to talk, now give me mine.”

           With great trepidation, Tim reluctantly sat beside him. He watched the Red Hood smoke his cigarette and throw back another swing from the flask. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to a drunken Jason or even sit near him for too long. For all he knew the former Robin just might throw him off the roof as he had threatened to once already.

           “Look, Drake, let's pretend for just a moment that I understand you. That I can actually relate and that I might be willing to concede that I have been cruel and unfair to you during this whole process.” Jason felt much better as his mind released some of that anger and rage. He loved alcohol and it made it much easier to try to 'bond' with the Replacement. “Let's pretend that I am sorry, that I do view you as one of my three brothers and that I only call you those names because I am an asshole and fucked up and even though I am still angry, it's not at you or even batman. Just the situation altogether. Let's go ahead and pretend too, that I sometimes see it as a term of endearment. OK?”

           Tim frowned as he tilted his head and looked to his older brother. “So we are going to pretend all of this is true, even though it isn't?”  

           Jason rolled his eyes. “No you idiot, that's the truth. We are just going to pretend that it's not while also secretly pretending that it is. And this stays just between you and me, got it? This conversation never happened and I don't want to hear about it ever again.” He paused as he frowned and then looked to Tim, his dark blue eyes hard and serious. “You know Drake, you are probably the only Robin worthy of being him.”

           Tim blinked his surprise at the sudden words. It was a bit heavy and kind of sappy but that's how he knew his brother was speaking the truth. Pretending to be a little more buzzed than Tim believed he was, made it so that his Jason could say the things that his pride and anger wouldn't allow while 'sober'.

           “Mind if I sit here for a bit?”

           “Don't press your luck, Pretender.” Jason smirked, but offered him his flask once more.

           Bruce watched his sons from the dying shadows behind a cowl that made him one of the most frightening creatures a criminal could behold. The sun had nearly risen and with it a sense of hope he had never felt before. Tim and Jason were talking, maybe their words were filled with anger and pain, but they were finally talking. Perhaps his family could be whole again someday. Not right away, but in the future it suddenly felt like more than a 'maybe'.

           Moving silently as the bat slowly took back over his body he couldn't help one final thought. He was proud of his sons this morning.