#tim giggling and kicking his feet in the air

[mistymisfit]

first off, I absolutely adore your writing!! It’s got me kicking my feet and giggling.

Can I please request a domestic Dick x reader where they’re having an at home date night (like watching a movie, doing face masks, cooking together - any of those kinda things) and it keeps getting interrupted by Dicks siblings?

thank youuuuu <3 and sorry this took too long (and if the ending feels rushed), hope you like it

warnings: no plot just fluff and batfamily cameos, established relationship, a few dirty jokes, suggestive content, Tim getting traumatized.

wc: 2,2k

You smile to yourself, finally you get to have a normal night with you boyfriend. He's staying at home, having a date night at home, ah the wonders of a dislocated shoulder. His injury would only put him out of action for a couple of weeks since it wasn't that bad, but you would still try to enjoy the time you get with him--even if hes puffing and huffing in annoyance. He's been a vigilante since he was 12 and he doesn't know anything else, so he's especially reluctant to accept the time off. Lucky for him, he's quickly convinced when you tell him how much he deserves a break and that you'll take care of him until he feels better.

"Here, just make sure it doesn't burn" You signal, putting the spoon on his good hand and letting him take care of the sauce.

"Sure" His eyes follow you as you move around his --not so big-- apartment kitchen. You wore one of his t-shirts, why he owned merch of himself was beside you but you couldn't ignore the smile that appeared on his face every time you wore it."So what are the plans for tonight?"

"We're having dinner, then we'll do some face masks," you list off "we could bake brownies if you're up for dessert, and there's this new movie I want to watch"

"Of course I'm up for dessert" He jokes, catching your arm when you step closer to him.

He has a devilish grin when he kisses you, forgetting he was supposed to be cooking dinner with you. You let him distract you, but not before your hand quietly lowers the stove to minimum heat behind him. The spoon falls, left behind as he walks you until you're trapped between the kitchen counter and him. The hand that's not caught in the arm sling cups your face, getting more demanding with the kiss. You sit on the kitchen counter before he asks and he nods, grateful. You're not sure he could lift you up with one arm, even if he's proven the past few days he didn't need both of them to manhandle you as he usually does. The perks of training your entire life.

There's a noise outside the window right when you wrap your legs around him. At first, you both ignore it, but as it repeats again and again, you realize it was not a random noise but someone knocking. There's not that many people who would be able to knock on an eighth story window.

"I'll go," He sighs, reluctantly letting go of you.

You nod, picking up the spoon and washing it on the sink as you try to listen to the hushed conversation. You can tell it was one of his siblings, even if you could only hear half of what they say. So when you finally take a look, hiding behind a wall, you are not surprised to see Damian in his Robin suit in the living room.

"Hi Damian, isn't it a bit too early to be Robin?" You wave

"Richard, you did not tell me that your beloved was here" He recriminates; you think it's adorable to see such a cute thing talking like an old man. He greets you, calling you by your last name as he usually does. Then his nose scrunches up,as if sniffing the air like a cat "are you making...?"

His question is not even finished as he walks past his older brother, who rolls his eyes saying"Yes, it's their gnocchi recipe, yes, you may stay for dinner"

You pout, silently telling him he's cute so he should be more forgiving towards his younger brother. He loves that you like his sibling, the one he raised for a while, but he also hates that all the little demon has to do is make a puppy face and you'd agree to anything.

Later in the evening, you found yourselves hyper focused on a backgammon game. You were both sitting on carpet in the living room, the game set on the coffee table. It was a hilarious sight for you, him competitive as always with his hair pushed back by one of your headbands and brows so furrowed you could see them under his blue face mask. Which he only agreed to do once you sat on his lap and offered to put it on for him; suddenly, all his complaints about "I'll break out" or "I don't like the way it feels on me" silenced. You know he secretly loves doing skincare with you, he just likes what you do to convince him more.

"Stop staring, you're trying to distract me"

"Am not!" You gently shoved his healthy arm, pretending to be offended at the accusation.

"Yes, you are" He childishly sticks his tongue out before moving his piece. You huff, taking the dice and rolling them in your hand but not letting go of them yet.

He moves closer to you, his breath fanning over your neck before you ask; "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't cheat"

"And how would I do that?" You turn your head lightly to look at him.

"That's why I'm looking at you" He shrugs

"Sure," You smile, amused,"and you're not projecting onto me, Richard"

He puts his hand over his chest, as if holding his heart, and pretends to be deeply disturbed by your words. Even going as far as falling on the carpet behind you. Done with his distracting antics, you finally roll the dice. Your lips tug in a big smile when you see the numbers.

"I got two sixes," you announce, and he quickly gets up.

"No way,"

"Yes way" This was your turn of sticking your tongue out to him.

He can't believe how much you're kicking his ass when he was the one who taught you how to play. He wants so badly to kiss that smug grin off your face, and he is about to turn your focus from moving the pieces when someone else surprises you both.

"How old are you two?" Steph jokes, closing the window she came in through

"Hi Steph," you smile "I'm winning"

She steps closer to high-five you as he shakes his head no, disapproving your celebration before adding; "Only 'cause you're cheating" as he gets up.

"Can I have your files on the Riddler, pretty please?" Steph asks, getting to the point of her visit.

He warns you not to touch anything before he gets up to find his secured laptop on his safe. He's going to be out of action for a while, so it's not like he could after him, might as well give them to someone else. When he returns a few minutes later with a flash drive full of the information she needs, he finds you both gossiping on his couch way too comfortably. You gasp as she tells you something, Steph clearly agreeing with your reaction. He waits, he doesn't want to interrupt just yet. His heart feels so full when he sees you get along so well with his family that he wants to save the moment for a little more.

"You got those files?" She asks when she finally notices him standing on the doorway outside the bedroom.

"Yeah," He throws the flash drive and she catches with impeccable reflexes"you're welcome"

"Thanks," She smiles before heading back out the window and telling you;"Kick his ass in that game"

You smile and promise you will, and he looks down to realize just how really over it was for him. So when you're distracted waving at Steph, he kicks the table to move the set. You turn back to see him, and before you can even get mad, he tells you he wants to cuddle up and watch a movie.

You let his little plan work, but not without calling him a sore loser. He pats the space next to him on the couch with a proud grin as he turns the TV on. You roll your eyes, settling down next to his good side so he can wrap an arm around you the way he likes. He may be a sore loser, but you're the one letting him get away with it. Halfway through the movie, you pause to take off the face-masks and catch him staring a little too much in the mirror.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You raise an eyebrow, not believing in his reply"I don't have eye bags and I'm not used to it"

"Duh, you've been sleeping at night like a normal person recently"

"I'll give you a reason to stay up all night" He bites back, his hand skillfully landing on your hips to make sure you stay in place as he takes a step to stand behind you.

"Come on, I wanna see how it ends" You're fast to move out of his hold, God knows how easily you fall for his charm every time.

You cuddle back on the couch hitting play on the horror movie you watched again, the lights were off to help the mood. He liked when you flinched as held him tighter even if the movie was scaring him more than you. You relax with your head on his shoulder, both arms wrapped around his as his sat on your thigh.

"See? Your skin is so soft" You smile, a hand reaching to caress his cheek.

"You're the one who wanted to watch the movie," He puffs "now I wanna know if they exorcise the demon"

You roll your eyes, shifting back your attention to the screen. The movie was building up to a jump scare, the tense music and ambient, something scary was bound to pop up in seconds. What neither of you expected was that the scare was going to come from outside the movie. Cass stepped in front of the TV to get your attention, and you both screamed. Dick could swear the stitches in her mask moved up in a smile as you both held tightly into each other.

"Steph came by and left like an hour ago," He says, once he regains his composure. He's aware now of how down his guard was, it was not normal for him to be startled this easily.

She hums and nods, leaving as fast as she appeared. Giving you both a wave before jumping off your window. Now you're too freaked to go back to the movie. Suddenly, watching horror movies in the dark didn't seem like a good idea anymore, especially when he had a plethora of younger siblings willing to break in at any given moment. His hand rubs your back gently, and you giggle once the adrenaline worn down over how silly it was. He laughs with you, telling you that he's never going to live it down and how they're going to make fun as soon as he sees them again. You smile before pressing a kiss to his lips, he looked too handsome when he laughed.

"I don't want to watch the movie anymore"

"Okay, I can lock the window," he offers, grinning when you nod.

Some time later, you were still on the couch, though now your clothes were scattered around the living room. A sitcom plays instead as you rest on top of him with your head on his chest, the blanket covering until your waist while he has his arms on top of you, his hand tracing circles on your bare back. He was still all smiles and loopy from you riding him, maybe being injured had a good side. Maybe Gotham could afford not having Nightwing every once in a while.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You,"He replies, flustering you and making you hide your face in his chest. "maybe I could stay in with you"

You lift your head to look at him, eyes shining with joy before he says; "Once a month" You pout in response, even if it's better than nothing.

"Maybe I convince you to once a week" You flirt, your lips finding the spot in his neck he likes having kissed way too much.

"Once every two weeks," He smirks, his hand going from your back to your hips again.

"Dick!" A younger voice yells from a different room in the apartment, "Why did you give Steph your files?! I called dibs on them when you got inj-"

He's quick to react, pulling the blanket higher to cover you. He is almost as fast to scold his younger brother; asking how did he come in as the other profusely apologizes, covering his eyes and turning his back. Your face heats up, you have never been more embarrassed in your entire life. you hide under the blanket as he reaches for his underwear, which luckily was close enough that he didn't have to get up to get it. If any humor was left in you, you'd laugh at him showing Tim the way out as he teaches him a lesson on basic boundaries and the consequences of breaking into someone's place. You would've laughed at Tim's comment of needing therapy to delete the image from his head if it happened to anyone else.

"I'm never showing my face to your family again" You say once he comes back and he laughs, clearly taking this way better than you.

[amazingmsme]

You're The Mouse

AN: I was having a hard time wondering just what I wanted to do for the chase prompt, and then I met Distortion Michael & the rest is history! This was an absolute blast of a fic to write, definitely one of the longer ones you'll see this month. I already miss Tim a lot so he gets a nice lil spotlight too. Posting this at 2am because I'm excited & the one time I did that it blew up. Hope y'all enjoy day 6!

It had been a long, tiring day with some rather harrowing statements he had to hear and record himself. His back ached from hunching over the desk for hours without a good break, and he felt tired down to his bones. Even his eyes felt tired, burning from the strain of staring at small font and lack of blinking. He couldn't wait to get home and crash in the couch. It was only Wednesday, which for him didn't bode well for the rest of the week.

He should've noticed the static. That fuzzy ringing in his ears that started out quiet, only to grow in intensity. If his mind wasn't so frazzled, he would've noticed that's not his usual office door.

A chill ran down his spine when he stepped through the doorway and found himself deep in the tunnels.

"Oh God," he muttered to himself, backing up and turning to run, but it was too late. The door was gone, and he ran straight into Michael's arms. Though he didn't remain there for long.

He screamed and started trashing, managing to elbow him in the stomach and stomp on his foot. Temporarily hurt, he recoiled enough for his grip to slip so Jon could free himself. He whipped around to face him once he felt there was a suitable distance between them. Although with Michael, he wasn't sure there even was such a thing.

"What the hell do you want now?" he growled, hands gripping the strap of his messenger bag tightly. Michael let out an echoing, disorienting chuckle.

"Oh archivist, I simply want some fun."

That was quite possible one of the worst things he could've said, at least in Jon's opinion. Because when Michael had fun, people usually ended up dead or insane, or in a cruel twist of fate, both.

"Maybe you should pick up a hobby, like drawing or golfing, or literally anything that involves leaving all of us alone," he suggested, though it felt more like a plea once it left his tongue. Michael let out a shrill giggle.

"You just don't get it, do you?" he asked with a tilt of his head. His wide smile was unnerving. "You're my favorite little toy."

Jonathan's face scrunched up in disgust as he looked him up and down, clearly not amused by his statement.

"Oh get your mind out of the gutter archivist, I didn't mean it like that," he scolded. "It's more like... when you were a child and you'd build fantastic cities out of blocks just so you could watch their destruction at your own hands." He took a step closer. "I'm just looking for a bit of fun amidst the chaos."

His held his hand out in front of him, reaching for Jon. His eyes widened in fear, stumbling backwards. Michael's hand distorted and stretched before his very eyes, long fingers growing in the darkness of the tunnels. Jon was already halfway down the hall.

Michael loved the thrill of the chase. He loved hearing the rapid thud of a racing heart, the panicked gasps for air as they ran for an escape. They were all the same, really, if he thought about it. Just a mindless chase through endless, winding halls that always ended victoriously. (For him, at least.)

Jon was frantic. Why now, of all days? He was so ready to walk through his front door, kick off his shoes and enjoy a nice hot frozen meal on his couch. It really was the least he could ask for, and yet, he couldn't even have that. The only saving grace was the fact that he was in the archive tunnels instead of whatever weird pocket dimension the Distortion liked to trap people in. His lungs ached as his feet pounded against the hard, dirt floor, eyes searching through the dark for something, anything to register with him and give him a clue as to his whereabouts, but it all looked the same.

"Joooon, come out come out wherever you are!" the voice was shrill and empty, the words hollowed out and stuffed to the brim with static. It echoed through the tunnels, and Jon couldn't tell where it came from, but the echo made it sound so fucking close and that sent him into a panic.

He ran ahead, ducking in a small alcove to catch his breath. He felt like he'd put a sufficient distance between them to be safe enough to do so. He gulped down air until the burn in his lungs subsided. He raised two fingers to his neck, checking his racing pulse and willed himself to calm down. Every reaction was just giving Michael exactly what he wants.

He needed to conserve his energy, move slower to remain quiet and keep his wits about him. He was pretty sure he had his bearings now, which was a plus. But if he really was where he thought he was, then they were deep in the underground maze. It took the better part of 30 minutes to even get to this point in the tunnels!

At least he knew where he was, he told himself, forcing himself to focus on the bright side of things. He walked at a brisk pace, a borderline jog really. He wanted to get out of here quickly, but he didn't want to give Michael the satisfaction of causing him to panic.

"Believe it or not, I don't want to hurt you, archivist. I simply want to have some simple, haaarmless funnn together, ehehehehehe!" His voice went shrill and warbly and distorted towards the end of his unnerving giggle so much that it became almost inaudible. And fuck, if it didn't make Jon run.

Could you blame him though? There was no way that- that thing actually meant what it said. It was absolutely going to hurt him. And it was probably going to do so in the most terrible ways imaginable.

Jon hated the deep, guttural scream that ripped from his throat when he rounded a corner and came face to face with the blonde monster.

His feet scrambled on the packed dirt and he was already turning around, but arms that were too long wrapped around him from behind, dragging him back as they retracted to a more normal length. He was screaming and kicking the air, arms fighting to free themselves.

"Shh shh shhhh, would you relax? What part of I don't want to hurt you did you not understand?" he chastised, holding a single finger to Jon's lips to quiet him. He went silent out of shock more than actual compliance.

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Now what do you really want?" Jon demanded, mustering enough confidence to glare him down. Michael just laughed.

"Like I said, I'm just looking for some fun. You humans aren't the only ones who get bored you know," he said condescendingly. Jon remained silent.

"I tend to- peak in, from time to time, just to see how my favorite sheeple are holding up," he mused, causing Jon to visibly cringe and roll his eyes.

"Good to know there's actual reason behind always feeling like I'm being watched," he grumbled.

"Oh no, I'm not the only one, but trust me, I'm your favorite."

"Quite the opposite."

"Well, I will be your favorite," he winked and giggled to himself. "But last week, I noticed you playing with your friends. You looked soooo happy then... I'd like to make you happy like that too, Jon."

What a nice sentiment from such a not nice entity, not to mention he had no clue what he was talking about. "Bullshit, you don't want to make me happy, you want to ruin my life!" he snapped, still continuing his struggle.

"Oh, but can't I do both? Life ruining is such a long process, and I'd really like to hear that laugh in person."

Realization dawned on him the same time terror wracked his body, body going stiff and eyes bugging out. Michael cocked his head, that unnaturally large smile forming into a curious pout.

"Why archivist, if I didn't know better I'd say you look frightened," he cooed. "There's no need for that. You didn't have that look when Martin snuck up on you in the break room," he pointed out.

"You keep his name out your fucking mouth," Jon growled, and in a moment he was pressing into the Distortion's space. He had grabbed him by the shirt collar and jerked him so hard his neck snapped at the momentum, their noses almost touching. A few flecks of spit even landed on Michael's cheek from the force of Jon's rage. It genuinely took him aback before a wicked grin took over.

"Your boy toy's off limits, lesson learned."

"He's not my-" Jon cut himself off, seeing no use in arguing with him. His eyes were closed and he pressed a free hand to his temple. "Look. You said you wanted your sick fun, but all you've done since capturing me is talk. I'm a smart man, I know I can't escape this. But I'm fucking tired, and I just wanna go home, so the sooner you shut up and get on with it, the better."

There was a beat of silence, and then a shit eating grin followed by, "If you wanted me to tickle you already, you could've just said so."

"No, I want to go home you assho-" Jon cut off his own rambling mid sentence as Michael started fluttering his fingers over his sides, prompting him to clamp his mouth shut. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm doing this so I can hear that cute, funny laugh of yours archivist! The longer you hold out the longer I have to tickle tickle tickle you!" his taunt echoed off the walls. Jon flushed and hid his face in his hands.

"Y-you're sohoho fucking weheheird!" His voice pitched higher towards the end of his sentence when Michael tweaked his sides before drilling in his thumb. He tossed his head back with a discordant cackle of his own, seemingly amused by the response.

"Is that really the best insult you can come up with? How adorably pathetic!" he cooed, reaching around with his other hand to knead his belly. Jon writhed in his grip, snickering and squealing with no way to escape.

"Shut up or Ihihi'll- nohoho wahahait!" the threat died on his tongue, melting into frantic giggles. He kicked his feet in the air and gently shoved at the offending tickly hands, but to no avail. He slumped in his hold, leaning back over his arm and covered his face with his hands.

"Oh? And what exactly am I waiting for?" Michael asked, cocking his head. The way he was so calm while picking Jon apart made it all the more maddening. Those long, spindly fingers were able to work their way into every tickle spot they could find, and it was perhaps the most horrendous thing he's ever felt in his life.

"I-Ihihi dohon't knohohow!" he whined, yelping when Michael pinched and prodded at his soft tummy. "Just shuhut up!"

"Hm, I don't think I will. Especially if it gets you all worked up like that," he taunted. Ironically, he started tracing a large spiral over his stomach, closing in on his bellybutton. Jon snorted, covering his face with one hand while trying to push Michael away with the other.

"Ohoho you've gotta behehe johoking," Jon groaned through his giddy laughter, rolling his eyes.

"What? It's my signature, I simply have to," he said casually, closing in on the center of his stomach. Jon's deep chuckles morphed until they were high pitched and bubbly. He was blushing like a fool behind his hand, shrieking and wiggling in Michael's arms all the while.

~~~

Tim had the worst luck. He had been halfway home when he realized he'd not only left his wallet, but his keys as well, at the institute. He backtracked, grumbling to himself the whole time.

He hated nothing more than being alone in the archives. It was bad enough being there during the day surrounded by people, but at night when those endless halls and rooms were empty? It might as well be straight out of a horror game.

He was trying to get to his office as fast as possible, but slowed as he neared Jon's office. The light was off, and he couldn't hear talking, sure, but the door was left open. Jon never left his door open.  The sight filled Tim with dread.

"Boss? You still here?" he called out, but received no answer. He walked to the door and peeked inside, greeted only by a dark and empty room.

Maybe he just forgot to shut the door when he left, he tried to reason with himself. But none of them were that lucky, especially not Jon. Still, he went back to retrieve his things and be on his way.

Execpt that's when he heard it.

Muffled screaming. Coming from below.

Tim froze, unsure if what he was hearing was true. He bent down, putting his ear to the floor and listened.

He could just make it out.

"Please, no, have mercyyyyy!"

That was someone pleading for their life. That was Jon pleading for his life... He raced to the trapped doors.

He had the sickening feeling that he'd walk in on Elias standing over Jon's body, having killed him deep within the tunnels just as he did Gertrude. Well not today.

He descended into the tunnels, pausing when he heard frantic, hysterical screams echoing down the halls, but he could swear it sounded like... laughter. And now that he was within the tunnels, he could hear that it was undeniably Jon's.

Just what the hell was going on?

~~~

Jon knew he was going to die here, in these godforsaken tunnels. He had no way of stopping this, and Michael proved to be just as relentless now as he's ever been. And those long fucking fingers of his were absolute torture. Just one hand was big enough to vibrate over his entire stomach and still wrap around to dig  into his sides and scribble at the base of his spine. Jon was effectively in hysterics, shrieking and giggling with no end in sight.

He should hate this. Should hate that it was Michael of all people doing this to him, but an overwhelming part of him was relieved that he wasn't subjected to legitimate torture. A more foolish part of him thought that maybe Michael was warming up to them: that maybe he wasn't so downright malicious after all.

And then he felt sharp nails scratching behind both his ears, and that thought was gone as soon as it had arrived. If he hadn't been cackling so loud, perhaps they would've heard Tim calling out for Jon, telling him to just hold on, he'll be right there.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

If Jon hadn't been so preoccupied, he'd have jumped and shrieked in fright, though he was shrieking for an entirely different reason at the moment. Michael on the other hand, did startle, having been caught red handed. He almost seemed embarrassed, and dropped him like a sack of potatoes. Jon landed flat on his back, the breath being knocked out of his already breathless lungs. Tim was frozen in place, taking in the scene. He was knocked out of his daze when he saw Jon hit the ground, and he immediately rushed over to help him up.

Jon was gasping and wheezing, face red and hair messy, but he still had that rare, genuine smile on his face.

"Sorry you had to see that, I had thought the archives was empty," Michael said in lieu of an explanation.

"Yeah, it was. Good thing I had to come back," Tim snapped. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Oh please, he's perfectly fine. I didn't harm a single hair on his head."

"You fucking dropped me!"

Michael let out a shrill chuckle. "And that was a complete accident! But you can't really blame me for wanting to have my own fun with you. Especially after everyone else made it look like so much fun."

"Hey, you stay away from him! Only we're allowed to torture Jon like that!" Tim scolded weakly, but it was all he could think to say. Which just made him feel stupid when Michael continued to laugh at them.

"Oh, so you're the only ones who can toy with the archivist, is that it?" he asked tauntingly, cocking his head. Tim opens his mouth to answer, but stops short. Jon is sitting curled in a ball, hiding his face in his knees.

"No, you've got it wrong. We do it because we care about him, and want him to be happy, even if it's short lived. You do it for your own sick kicks!" Tim accused. Jon's head snapped up when he admitted their reasoning for why they always seem to tickle him out of the blue. It brought a shy smile to his face as he recovered from the ordeal.

"... Well that's a rude assumption. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

Tim snorted, "My point exactly." They were all quiet, the three of them engaged in a bit of a stalemate. "Aren't you going to show yourself the door?" he boldly prompted. Jon choked on his own spit in shock.

Michael's smile widened. "You know, I wasn't quite finished yet. And I'd hate for you to feel left out," he playfully threatened, and his limbs stretched ever so slightly as he spoke. Tim took a step back, eyes wide. Jon was just now making to stand, and pointed at him sternly.

"No." He stood up and dusted himself off, glasses askew on his face. He straightened them and cleared his throat. "Haven't you had enough? You leave him, and everyone else alone." And just because he knows better than to trust Michael, added, "That includes me too."

"I'll think about it. It'd be easier if you weren't so fun to tickle. Isn't that right Tim?" Michael asked, even winking at the pair. Jon blushed and turned away, and Tim failed to fight back a smile.

"Heh. Right." He shook himself out of it, glaring at Michael as he stood by Jon protectively. "B-but you just mind your business."

"Ha! Unlikely, diet archivist."

"Hey!" Tim snapped at the insulted and Jon stifled an amused  snicker. He was just about to give him a piece of his mind when Michael opened a door that hadn't been there a second ago, standing in the doorway.

"Until we meet again," he waved at them, closing the door behind him, leaving them stunned and alone.

Now that Michael was gone, Tim turned to Jon with a teasing smirk. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'll be fine. I'm honestly... more confused than anything." Tim barked out a laugh and patted his shoulder.

"You and me both."

They began their trek out of the tunnels, walking side by side quietly until Tim broke the silence.

"So, what's it like being tickled senseless by the Distortion?" he asked in a teasing tone. Jon flushed and shot a glare his way, but he had that happy, sheepish grin plastered on his fast, just like every other time they wrecked him.

"Oh, should I have let you find out for yourself?" Jon quipped to mask his own embarrassment.

Tim looked down with a faint blush. "Fair point." A beat, and then, "You know we have to tell the others, right?"

Jon choked on his own spit, and Tim stopped walking to give him a moment. He looked at him expectantly, while Jon looked at him with a floored look.

"Are you joking?" he asked.

"As much as I wish I were, no." The shit eating grin on his face said otherwise. "You heard what that thing said. We're all fair game in his eyes." Jon gave a noncommittal hum. "They deserve a bit of a warning, don't you think?" It was true, but he didn't have to be so damn smug about it.

"Yes," Jon begrudgingly agreed through a growl.

"Think it might be best if you made a statement. You know, so we have an accurate account for the record."

Jon groaned and hid behind his hair. "I would literally rather die." Tim barked out a laugh and threw an arm over his shoulders.

"Always with the dramatics! So you're saying you'd rather tell them in person? Look them in the eyes and admit how I saved you-"

"Don't-"

"From the big bad ti-"

Jon didn't think he'd ever been so embarrassed. "Stop!"

"The big bad tickle monster named Michael!" Tim rushed out in one breath, laughing at the flustered squeak he made as he marched ahead. It took him no time at all to catch up, thanks to his long legs. "Oh come on, you know it's funny!"

Jon huffed, unable to hide his lingering smile. "Only because it wasn't you, asshole."

They continued their playful banter back and forth, unaware of the tape recorder that had appeared in Jon's pocket the moment he entered the tunnels, listening in and capturing every word.

~~~

Tim was relieved when he made it back home, slipping his key in the door and stepping inside. Strange, how he didn't seem to notice the change from handle to doorknob.

His eyes flew open when he was met with the sight of an endless, shifting corridor. He felt sick. A chill ran down his spine, his ears were ringing, his head filled with static and he stumbled in an attempt to get his bearings. There was a sinking feeling in his gut, and he felt so trapped.

Michael walked out from the nothingness, grin much too wide for his face. Tim hugged his arms to his body and stepped back, fighting an involuntary smile tugging at his lips.

"Y-you stay back! I'll fuck you up!" Tim cried, bravely putting his hands up, balled into fists and ready to swing. Michael laughed, and it was a sound that unsettled Tim to his very core. He held his hands up, and Tim couldn't help but flinch at the movement.

"Believe it or not, I'm not here to torture you. I'll save that for a rainy day," he added, chuckling at his own joke. Tim lowered his arms, staring at him skeptically.

"Okaaaay. So what the hell are you doing in my home?"

"But I brought you to my home," he corrected, and that wide grin turned just a tad condescending. Tim narrowed his eyes and set his jaw.

"Yeah, through my front door!" he argued before sighing in defeat, pinching the bride of his nose. "So what do you want?"

"I wanted to give you something." Tim perked up, looking at him in shock. He jumped and yelped when Michael was standing right in front of him. He held out the tape recorder.

"A little... souvenir from earlier. I doubt Sasha and Martin will believe you without proof." He placed the tape in Tim's hand, leaving him dumbstruck. "And I really have a hard time believing Jon will corroborate your story, don't you?"

Tim didn't know what to say. "Um... thank you?"

Michael winked at him. "You're welcome." And because he couldn't help himself, he skittered his fingers over his belly. Tim jerked back with a surprised laugh, a blush and a growing look of fear on his face.

"Relax. Like I said, rainy day."

He gave him a small wave and opened a door off to the side and left. Everything melted into his flat, and he was safe in the middle of his living room.

~~~

Jon walked into work the next day as if it were any other, eager to forget the events of last night. He went to the break room for a cup of coffee to start the day and walked in to see Sasha, Martin, and of course, Tim, huddled around a tape recorder. They all wore a look of concern. Well, except for Tim.

"What're you listening to?" he asked. Sasha and Martin jumped out of their skin when they heard his voice, whipping around to meet him. They looked rather guilty, but more concerning, they looked worried.

The next thing he knew, Martin was hugging him.

"I'm sorry, what's-" A voice on the tape interrupts him.

"Joooon, come out come out wherever you are!"

"I-I'm so sorry, we left you here alone, and Tim said Michael got you and-"

"Did he now?" he asked, cocking his head.

"Now Jon, is that any way to speak to your knight in shining armor?"

"Oh please, you're not my bloody knight." He spoke over the sound of his own erratic breathing and feet pounding against hard packed dirt.

"Were you even gonna tell us Michael attacked you?" Sasha asked, brows furrowed with worry. "Because I really doubt it."

Jon floundered for an answer, face going red. "Um- it- look, it really wasn't as serious as Tim undoubtedly made it seem." He glanced up at his smiling face and said, "Would he really be grinning like that if it was?"

Of course, as soon as they looked at him, he schooled his features into a serious expression, but they each caught a glimpse of a fading smirk.

"Okay what's... what's happening right now?" Martin asked, looking between the two.

"You wanna tell them yourself Jon? Or uh, let the tape do the talking for you?" he asked, holding up the tape.

"Shh shh shhhh, would you relax? What part of I don't want to hurt you did you not understand?"

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Now what do you really want?"

Jon refused to meet his friends' gaze as he spoke over his previous conversation. "Look, I'm fine. He didn't hurt me, didn't psychologically scar me, the only thing damaged was my pride."

The tape played on in the background as Jon tried to explain himself. Michael's endless talk of having fun did nothing to calm Sasha and Martin's nerves for past-Jon. "I-I don't really know why he t- uuh, did what he did, but he seemed almost... friendly isn't exactly the word I'd use, maybe tame? Toned down?" That was about the time Michael mentioned the rest of them, and how they all "played" with Jon. A hesitant smile ghosted over Sasha's lips as she thought she knew what he was hinting at, and judging by Jon's reaction, she might be right, but there was just no way... Was there?

"Jon, did Michael-"

"Yes," he cut her off before she could finish the sentence. "Yeah, he uh, said you all made it look like fun, so he decided to try it out," he said, staring at the faded break room carpet.

"Wait, so it's our fault?" Martin asked, and Jon immediately felt guilty for saying it like that.

"No! God no, you guys are just trying to make me loosen up. Michael's just... morbidly curious."

"Right," Tim agreed, suddenly more serious. "He uh, told me he was waiting for a rainy day. So obviously, he has his sights set on all of us. Which is... unnerving to say the least." He locked eyes with Jon, a soft smile on his face. "So I'm not just doing this to fuck with you. But that is an excellent perk!" Jon couldn't help but chuckle. "But I thought everyone deserved a bit of a heads up. And maybe ease some worry while I'm at it." "Where'd you even get this?" Jon asked, pointing at the recorder just as his own bubbly giggles  started pouring out.

"Michael gave it to me."

"Very funny." When Tim's expression didn't change, his jaw dropped, "You're serious."

"Where else would I have gotten it from?"

"Fair point."

A loud shriek followed by shrill cackling and snorts emitted from the tape. All heads snapped over to look at him with amused grins and fond expressions.

"Right. Well, I lived through this once already. No need to stick around for a second time," he said, cheeks burning from embarrassment. He paused in the door. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?"

"Not likely."

"Nope!"

"Absolutely not."

He gave a curt nod, lips pursed together. "Thought so."

[p1nk-syr1nge]

Have any fluff for Brian before Marble Hornets even happened? Like everything is still okay? Have a good day/night ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و 

Super short oneshot but AGHF i was still kickin my feet n giggling. tysm for this ask <:DD

Platonic! Brian x reader!!

No warnings! just fluff

It was simple, everything was just perfectly simple. You and Brian on the swing set. You say while he pushed you from behind gently, not hard enough for you to go flying, but enough to get you in the air a little bit. Not too far though… Have to keep ya close so you can chat.

Thought it was the same old story. Brian would go off to help Alex with his film, he’d come back having something to complain about. Which was a little concerning… He never just complained for no reason, yet the recent attitude and change in atmosphere made him feel a bit under the weather.

Today? Today was okay, he came back after a shoot and called immediately if you wanted to hang out. Tim was busy that day so he decided to see if you were free. Fortunately, you were, which lead you to this moment here.

Just you and him, spending time. After Brian was done ranting, and you told him how sorry you were to hear his hardships, you both left to the park, him promising pancakes for dinner at some local diner. 

So simple…After a while you linked arms, walking back from the park. Showing his gap toothed grin with every silly story you told about the day to cheer him up. Maybe forget about the film project all together. It seemed to work well too, he seemed so calm, so content without a care in the world.

Brian and his friend, face to face in some diner, kicking shins beneath the table trying not start another laughing fit.

So perfectly simple. 

[firstdegreefangirl]

We're all Skating (on the same thin ice)

Theme: Day Six - Ice Skating @12daysofchristmas

Fandom/Character(s): Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen (The Rookie)

Word Count: 2000 (you have NO idea how hard I worked to pull that off)

Ao3 link here!

“Tim, if you don’t stop looking like Wesley kicked your kitten, I’m rescinding your invitation.”

“Why do I have to be the hypothetical kitten-kicker in this scenario?” Wesley complains. At least it distracts Angela enough that she doesn’t see they eye roll or notice when he mutters “is that supposed to be a punishment?”

He wraps his jacket tighter around his torso, but it doesn’t do much to cut through the chill in the air at the skating rink. Sure, he’d known it would have to be cold inside, so people could actually ice skate. But he hadn’t expected to feel the chill all the way to his bones, before they even made it to the rental counter.

“You’re sure you don’t want to skate, Tim?”

“It’s bad enough that you dragged me out here to freeze. You’re not strapping knives to my feet. I’ll supervise and hang out with Jack when he gets tired.” At the sound of his name, the toddler looks up and waves with the hand not holding onto Wesley’s arm.

Angela sighs, but only rents three pair of skates. Before long, Tim is leaning against the half-wall surrounding the rink and watching Jack find his footing between his parents. Angela and Wes each have him by one hand, helping him stay upright as they work their way around the edge of the ice.

Tim takes a few pictures, but he puts his phone away after a few minutes so he can tuck his hands back into his pockets. He never knew Los Angeles could be this cold, even if it is manufactured.

It’s more fun than he imagined, though, watching his best friend and her growing family build new holiday traditions. Jack is all smiles and giggles when Wes lifts him up and spins on the blades of his skates, and he blows a raspberry at Tim over his mother’s shoulder when she peppers his tiny face with kisses.

Tim returns the silly face, then turns around, sizing up the rest of the venue. Angela had promised him apple cider donuts, a treat in exchange for being part of the family for an afternoon, but he’s hoping for something with a little more substance than sugar.

What he sees instead is nearly enough to knock him over the wall, sprawling onto the ice.

Of all the places in all of LA, what are the odds …

Lucy Chen is walking back toward the rink, holding one giant chocolate chip cookie in each hand. She veers to the side before she sees Tim, but he watches as she passes the second cookie to Jackson, who’s sitting on a wooden bench with his legs stretched out in front of him. Lucy says something to Jackson, pointing at the concession stand; as soon as he follows her gaze, he starts unlacing his skates. She laughs at whatever he says next, but rolls her eyes as he gets up and goes over there himself.

Lucy watches Jackson for a moment longer, then grimaces in his direction and shoves her feet back into her own skates. She stumbles to the edge of the rink, but as soon as she reaches the ice, she starts moving in smooth glides.

Tim waits for her to be close enough to hear him before he opens his mouth.

“Hey, Chen!” She turns her head in his direction, her surprise obvious when she sees him. “You sure those are tied tight enough? Can’t have you breaking an ankle; we’re already stretched thin enough at work.”

“Tim!” She grins, skating toward the wall he’s leaning against. “What’re you doing here?” Her face flushes even pinker than the chill has already turned it and she starts stammering. “Not that … I mean … it’s not a priva … it’s a public rink, you can … I just didn’t know you …"

“I’m not.” He puts her out of her misery, pulling one hand out of his pocket long enough to point across the rink. “But Angela is, and I’m on Uncle Duty today. What about you, didn’t know you skated?”

“Here and there.” She looks down. “I try to come a few times a year. It’s fun.”

“Yeah, looks like Jack is enjoying himself.” He’s talking about Angela’s kid, but Lucy looks past him to the concession booth. Tim turns to glance, and sees Jackson standing off to the side, deep in conversation with the cashier.

“He’ll be over there all afternoon, I’m sure. All I did was tell him the attendant guy looked like his type. Now I guess I’m on my own for the rink today.” She sighs.

“Hey, I’m sure Angela would loop around with you a few times. Looks like Wes has taken charge of the baby anyway.”

“Maybe,” Lucy says, but she makes no effort to move. “You’re not on the ice?”

“Absolutely not. I’m here to hang out with Jack when he needs a nap, give mom and dad a break.”

“Not even for a few minutes?”

“Not unless you want to see an ambulance today.”

“Well,” Lucy laughs. “I guess it’s nice to see a man who knows his limits.”

“Believe it or not, I do have a few of them.”

“I’d never have guessed.”

The conversation flows easily from there, nephews and dogs and Tim’s sister and the best cheesesteak Lucy has ever eaten. Before either of them realize, it’s been almost 40 minutes and the intercom is announcing the end of skate for people with an hourly pass. Tim raises an eyebrow, and Lucy holds up her wrist, showing him an all day wristband.

“But I should probably go make use of it, at least for a few minutes.” Tim nods, and she skates off. Immediately, he’s a little colder again, which he decides is ridiculous as soon as he registers the feeling. He’s cold because it’s freezing in here, not because Lucy was somehow keeping him warm.

The solitude doesn’t last long, though. While Lucy is breezing her way through speedy laps of the inner rink, Wesley skates over to Tim. Jack is slumped against one of his shoulders, arms looped loosely around his dad’s neck.

“Hey, can you take him?” Tim extends an arm and they pass Jack over the wall. “Thanks. He’s out cold, and my arm is getting sore. I think Angela left the stroller over by the lockers.

“No problem. We’ll be here.”

He shifts Jack around, until he’s resting against the shoulder that’s never seen a bullet wound. The kid hardly moves, other than to burrow his face deeper into Tim’s neck. He rubs his back gently with his free hand, tucking it up the bottom of his little puffer jacket to keep his fingers warm.

Tim keeps watching the skaters. Somehow, his gaze always finds its way back to Lucy. She’s slowed down a little bit, but now she’s weaving back and forth, zipping between imaginary cones in her path. The movement are precise, careful and refined in a way that tells Tim ‘a few times a year’ might have been underselling her experience.

Then she starts spinning. She makes it look easy, effortless loops that keep her moving forward even as she turns round and round. It’s not a tight spiral, like he’d see on the Olympics, but somehow this is more impressive. She keeps twirling, never coming close to hitting any of the other skaters. When she comes closer to the edge of the ice, Tim notices how wind-bitten her skin has become, even more than it was earlier.

All at once, he looks between the lockers and concessions, and makes a decision.

After all, his arm is getting kind of tired. And Jack would probably be more comfortable sitting down.

He finds the stroller first, with the familiar elephant-print diaper bag shoved in the bottom, and gets Jack situated. The straps are more confusing than he’d anticipated, but he clicks every buckle into a latch and figures that it’s close enough.

Then he pushes Jack toward the concessions, where he takes up a position in the line on the side opposite where Officer West is still chatting up the second cashier. He doesn’t seem to notice Tim, as he orders and balances two paper cups between his hands and the stroller handle.

When he gets back to his spot along the wall, he starts watching for Lucy to come around again.

“Lucy!” This time, he calls her first name, and she skids to a stop. “Need a break? You look … cold.” He sticks one of the cups out toward her. “Uh, it’s cocoa.”

“Oh.” She shivers. “I guess I didn’t realize it until I stopped moving, but sure. It’s chilly out there.”

Tim points at one of the benches and she follows him over. When she sits down, she leaves the skates on, but unties the bows at the top.

Again, it’s easy to talk to Lucy, even though they’re not at work. She ends up with one foot propped on the front of the stroller, rocking it back and forth gently while Jack sleeps. They talk about her career and his, where he’s been and where she wants to go. He teases her with the suggestion of an LAPD skating division, a promotion with the promise of her leadership on the ice.

“Please, I’d never win a pursuit. It’s way more fun to do the twirly stuff,” she says, laughing along with him.

“Well it sure looked like you were good at it.”

“I was having fun.” Again, he notices how she undersells herself.

“You can enjoy things you’re good at.” He pushes. This time, when her face turns pink, he doesn’t think it’s anything to do with the cold.

At some point, Angela slides the stroller away from them, with a quiet hello for Lucy before she and Wesley disappear. Tim doesn’t think anything of it, until he realizes that the sun is dropping low in the sky and the rink is closing for the night.

“Well,” he stands up, and Lucy trades her skates for a pair of brown leather boots. “I rode with Agnela and …" He looks around. “I don’t see her, or Wesley.”

They both slides their phones out of their pockets. He’s got a waiting message from his friend, almost two hours old.

Yes, we left you behind. Looked like you were doing something more important than third-wheeling with my kid.

She's included a string of emojis that Tim can’t be bothered to decipher.

“Or, I got ditched.” He laughs dryly, and Lucy looks up.

“So did I. Jackson’s cashier asked him for coffee. Apparently selling it all day wasn’t enough.” She rolls her eyes. “At least I have the car keys.”

Tim barely resists a heavy sigh. He hates having to ask for favors, but …

“Think I could bother you for a lift?”

“Hmmm …" Lucy screws her face up, eyes shining mirthfully. “I dunno … what’s in it for me?”

“Let’s see … Jackson got coffee with a stranger, I suppose I can do better than that, given our established relationship. Can I buy you dinner?”

“Careful, Tim,” she grins at him. “A girl hears an offer like that, and she’s liable to think it’s a date.”

“And what if it is?” He’s on thin ice now, but he doesn’t need to think long to realize that if he’s going to fall anywhere, he wants it to be right here. Somehow he’s spent most of an afternoon talking to Lucy, on his personal time, and all he wants to do is keep it going for longer.

Hopefully, starting with dinner.

“If it is, then I think you should actually ask me.”

“Fine.” This time, he does sigh, long-suffering, like she’s asking the world of him. “Lucy, can I take you out for dinner? As a date?”

“I suppose.” She’s trying to keep a straight face, but laughing so hard that it ruins the effect. “After all, I am taking you home tonight. And that is a promise.”

[draft-southpark]

Draft: And Despite it All, I [_____] You. (scrapped)

"And then he punched me in the face once more before the bell rang!"

"Timmy!"

Pip lets out a content sigh, his breath forming into a white cloud in their frosty little mountain town of South Park. He imagines it wafting through the air and into the skies above, but it never does. Always, it dissipates in the wind before it even gets the chance to.

He turns to his friend, Timmy—the only person who's ever tolerated his presence since Damien. Wherever did that boy go, anyway? Last time he's seen him, he was invited to Cartman's ninth birthday party.

"Oh Timmy, do you think he'll punch me again? Or perhaps he'll kick me in the testicles this time around? I've seen that fat boy teach him some nifty tricks last week."

Timmy flails his hands around violently, hitting Pip square in the jaw, "Livin' a lie!"

"Ugh, Timothy!" Pip tuts disappointedly, ridding his face of any semblance of the boy, "I thought we discussed that only he can hit me now!"

"Timmy!" Said boy screams.

Pip rolls his eyes at him, "It was your idea, remember?" And then he stops.

As the grating screech of rust against metal rings in the air, he turns, his eyes widen at the sight before him. His eyes glisten. His cheeks burn. He resists the urge to hide behind Timmy's wheelchair.

At that moment, nothing matters to him more than those soft dark waves, that oh so adorable blue beanie sitting on his head, and those eyes.

God, those eyes.

Those eyes that narrow at the sight of him. Those eyes that hold so much authority when leading the football team. Those eyes that...

Those eyes that glimmered in that one grave night they shared during the meteor shower party.

Pip stiffens at the memory, almost buries his face in his hands. They were cold. Longing for someone to hold them and keep them warm–

No, he shakes his head. Stop it, Philip. Now is not the right time.

Pip watches as the boy's bestfriend pulls him by the sleeve, whispers something in his ear. The boy nods, bidding him farewell as he walks away. Again, Pip burns up, but for a far different reason.

He wants to get rid of that ushanka wearing twit—

"Tim... me!" Timmy screams in his ears, and Pip waves him away.

"Oh, would you stop it, Timmy?" He says, irritated, "I have to prepare for our date!"

He almost jumps when he sees the boy stomping his way towards him, noting his hunched figure and the frown that burrowed deep into his lips. He seems to be in quite a terrible mood today, he thinks. I'll be sure to make him happy.

"Oh look now, here he comes!" He exclaims nervously, "I made sure to wear my best suit today! I hope he—!"

"Hey, Pip," the boy greets him with a huff. He has his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his gaze holds a darkness he's never seen before. Pip couldn't help but feel that there was something special about this particular encounter.

His vision blurs. He feels all warm. He'd always wonder why he doesn't wear thick clothes like the othet kids in school. Now he's reminded why.

Pip giggles slightly, almost drunkenly. He feels the boy's disgusted gaze on him; oh, those narrowed eyes again! How he wishes for them to gaze at him forever!

"Cheerio, Stan!" He greets him. He can barely see anything, "What would you like to do today?"

"Let's play a game," Stan says flatly. He tilts his head to look over Pip's shoulder. The hair on his neck almost stands.

Stan nods his head towards the direction, "You see the girls over there?"

Pip turns around to see. He could feel his warmth behind him even from a few feet away. He can't see anything now. Only the rosy tint of his skin.

He thinks he sees the school president and her friends, like that curly blonde girl who always picks on him. He turns his head to Stan in the slightest, "Yes?"

"Go over and kiss Wendy."

[ragingbookdragon]

“Good evening,” she greeted warmly, taking the microphone from Lucius. “It’s a pleasure to welcome all of you to Wayne Manor this evening.” Her eyes drifted around the room, falling on one certain, egotistical man. Something annoying split through her, but she ignored it and focused on the smiling faces of her family and friends who were all standing and waiting for her speech.

“We’re gathered here because…” she faltered as her eyes fell on him again. Clearing her throat, she recovered with a smile. “We’re gathered here tonight because Bruce and I won the lucky raffle of holding the Elite Meeting this month.” While the group laughed her eyes came back to the one man and she sighed then turned to him. “I’m sorry, Mister Luthor, it’s good to see you.”

He smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Missus Wayne. It’s good to see you as well.”

She hummed. “I’m glad you’re with us tonight.”

Immediately her sons and husband knew something was wrong because her eyes kept coming back to the seated man. No one wanted Lex Luthor around and the fact that she’d said something like that meant that something was bugging her. Nevertheless, she continued with her speech.

“We’ve been seeing increased numbers in the stocks of everyone’s companies across the country and world. Production is up as well as approval ratings from the public…” Her eyes fell on Lex again and she sighed once more with a tired smile. “Forgive me, Mister Luthor. But didn’t you just introduce a new line of technology? Microcomputers under the epidermis?”

He nodded, sipping his wine. “Yes, Missus Wayne. It gives people the ability to store memory, complete transactions, make calls and texts, and so much more.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I ask because I’ve read the articles and reviews by people who’ve received these implants and so far, there’s been a touch of negativity. Faulty wiring, short circuiting, etcetera.”

“I can assure that my products are one hundred percent safe, Missus Wayne,” Lex replied coolly.

“And those who’ve commented negative results? You’re taking care of them, correct?”

“Of course,” he shot back, and she nodded.

“Do you also take care of the workers in the out of state factories who’ve complained multiple times of poor working conditions and even poorer pay?” her eyes were narrowed sharply. “While you’re thinking about that, let me ask a few more.”

“Have you cleared safety regulations in your own facilities in state? I’ve heard more than a few people have been hurt while on your floors.” She blinked. “What of the LGBTQ discrimination lawsuits that’ve been buried by your company board members?” She gestured to him. “Think about those questions, would you?”

“One last thing—” she raised to her full imposing height and admonished, “While you may be mistaking this for your monthly meeting of the ‘Ignorant Tight-Ass Club’—In this building, when the Lady of the Manor stands?” She shot him the darkest glare she could manage and threatened, “Nobody sits.”

They stared one another down for what seemed like an eternity before Lex cleared his throat and rather embarrassingly got to his feet, ignoring the amused stares from the other standing guests. She gave him one last glare before smiling, jumping into her speech once more.

***

She wiped the makeup cleaning pad across her skin, watching as Bruce emerged from the steaming bathroom, walking to his dresser. “How was patrol?” she asked, swiping the lipstick off.

“It was fine,” he replied, slipping on a pair of boxers. “Wasn’t too much going on tonight. Surprisingly enough.”

Laughing, she wiped the rest of her makeup off and pressed the warm rag against her skin. “I figured we’d see something tonight at the dinner party.”

At that, his head shot up and he turned to look at her, as if remembering something. “About tonight…what you said—”

“I’m not apologizing for it,” she retorted. “That bald asshole should’ve stood when the others did. He did that shit for show. To see if he could get away with it.”

Bruce chuckled and wandered behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders, thumbs digging into her skin in the way that made her groan and loll her head back against his stomach. “I was going to say that you were…extraordinary tonight.”

Her brows furrowed. “I gave Lex Luthor third degree and you thought that was extraordinary? I thought you found it extraordinary when I kicked ass in a skintight suit?”

He squeezed her shoulders. “I find you extraordinary whether you kick ass as a vigilante or give third degree burns as my beautiful and wonderful wife.” Bending down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, grinning when she smiled and he shifted, pressing one to her lips. “I also think,” he murmured against her lips, “that you are—”

The door slammed against the wall and she cocked her head up, immediately crying in pain when she kissed Bruce’s forehead with hers.

“Fucker!” she cursed, reaching up to nurse her head. “Are you alright?” she asked Bruce and he grunted, rubbing his forehead.

“Fine.”

They turned to the door and saw their sons hurrying inside, and she frowned. “Boys, what the hell? It’s like eleven thirty? Why aren’t you all in bed?”

Dick snorted. “Uh, because we’re nocturnal, mom.” He waved it off. “But that’s not the point. Timmy?”

Her third son walked up and handed her his tablet. “You’ve already gotten two million views, mom.”

“On what?” she inquired, pressing play and the event from the night filtered through the speakers, and most importantly, When the Lady of the Manor stands? Nobody sits.

Jason giggled. “Everyone is in hysterics over watching you give Lex the verbal beat-down he deserved.”

“You did well, Umi.” Damian noted proudly and she sighed, though she couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed, only weirdly giddy.

Bruce paused the video. “Mmm, watching it in person is one thing, but it’s another to be able to pause it on those moments where your face is holding that air of superiority.” He purred, “It’s sexy.”

Their sons groaned and gagged, and Tim yanked his tablet out of her hands, already spinning for the door. “YOU GUYS ARE SO GROSS!” Dick complained and the others shouted in agreement as they slammed the door behind them, leaving her and Bruce to laugh.

[sparkypantaloons]

XXIV

Jason never learned to swim, Crime Alley kids aren't that lucky. Bruce found out the hard way when Jason was twelve, and fell through the ice on the pool. But that was years ago and Jason's an adult now... right?

A family barbecue at the Lake goes wrong, Bruce goes into protective Dad mode.

Shameless protective Dad Bruce angst and fluff.

Bruce sees it happen in slow motion. All the bad things do. His parents dying. Dick’s parents dying. The explosion at the warehouse…

Jason’s at the end of the jetty. His broad shoulders are pink from the afternoon sun, his flip-flops a bright orange. He’s readying to throw a football to Dick. The older man floats around twenty yards out into the lake. Jason takes a short run up, his body twisting as he prepares to launch the ball through the air. The release is clean. The ball flies in a perfect arc, crossing the great blue of the sky for the deep blue of the lake. Then the wood of the jetty creaks beneath Jason, and gives way before he can react.

Bruce wonders if maybe it’s just people dying that happens in slow motion. If it’s only the very worst things that cause time to grind to a halt, rather than all the bad things. Wonders how this can be happening again. His boy, fully grown but always, always Bruce’s darling boy, disappearing beneath the surface and sinking like a stone. Wonders if he’ll ever recover, seeing his second son dying a second time.

The thoughts race around his mind faster than Clark can fly. One after the other after the other. A flash flood of awful memories, manifesting themselves before they’ve even happened, ready to drown him in the seconds since Jason started falling. Then instinct kicks in, and his legs are moving faster than his brain. Sprinting ahead, even as he struggles to drag himself from the torrent of disasters raging through his mind.

It’s like running through tar. Like he’s trapped in a dream. His feet move beneath him but never bring him any closer to his destination. He’s vaguely aware of Damian calling after him. Can hear his youngest’s voice follow his bare feet across the grass. He doesn’t hear what the teenager says. His head is full of numbers and he can focus on nothing else.

Jason is twenty four. The lake is twenty feet deep off the jetty. Bruce has been running for fifteen seconds. Jason has been under water for twenty seconds. Bruce is still fifty yards away. Jason is not twelve.

He passes Steph and Cass, legs entwined as they lie on the grass giggling over something on Steph’s phone. They look up in amusement as he moves past them. Unaware of the slow motion horror unfolding in the lake.

Jason has been underwater for forty-seven seconds. Bruce has been running for forty-three seconds. He is five yards from the end of the jetty and Jason is twenty four, not twelve.

But Jason hasn’t surfaced. And now Dick is swimming as fast as he can and Tim is shouting from the pontoon in the middle of the lake and Bruce can feel the wooden boards of the jetty beneath his feet. Hot from the sun and warped with time.

He dives into the water. Pulls himself as deep as he can, as fast as he can. Jason is twenty four. Jason is twenty four and six foot one and weighs two hundreds. The average person sinks at ten feet a second and the lake is twenty feet deep off the end of the jetty and Jason has been underwater for a sixty seconds now.

Jason is twenty four, but he can’t swim. Couldn’t swim at twelve when he slipped through the ice on the pool his first year at the Manor. Eleven years and four months ago. Never learnt how, before the Joker took a crowbar to his skull at fifteen. And how could Bruce have let this happen again? His boy, his darling boy.

It’s dark at the bottom of the lake. Twenty feet down and Jason has been here for ninety seconds. Bruce can hold his breath for three minutes and fifteen seconds, held it for seven minutes that one time but he doesn’t know how long Jason can. If Jason would have got enough air in before he knew what was happening. If he could keep calm knowing Bruce would come. That Bruce would save him before air runs out.

But Jason hangs in the water ahead of him, floats like a marionette on strings. Eyes closed, limbs limp and unmoving. And Bruce had never managed to save him before. Hadn’t made it before the Joker. Hadn’t made it before the Pit. Hadn’t made it now, when it counted.

Something in Bruce’s chest twists painfully and it’s nothing to do with air trapped in his lungs.

His hand closes around Jason’s wrist, tightens in desperate search for a pulse as he drags them both to the surface. Another dream. Another unreachable destination. Part of him thinks he’d rather this. This limbo of being underwater and not knowing for certain Jason is gone. Better that, than reaching the surface and facing a world without him. Again.

Dick meets them halfway to shore. Helps drag Jason above the surface as Bruce gets his feet beneath him. Dick’s mouth is a thin line, he doesn’t say anything. Not to Bruce, not to Jason. The silence fills Bruce with a cold dread.

The lake is shallow here. Only three feet. He scoops Jason up into his arms, like he’s twelve all over again. Except when he was twelve, Jason had woken up before Bruce had reached the edge of the pool. Hadn’t been underwater longer than thirty five seconds when Bruce had got to him. But Jason is twenty four now. Was underwater for 113 seconds and is a two hundred pounds of dead weight in Bruce’s arms.

He lays his boy on the shore. Begins chest compressions. One, two, three, four — not too fast, not too slow, all the way to thirty. Dick gives two rescue breaths. Down for two, breathe for two, up for two.

“—nine-one-one—”

Bruce doesn’t know who’s speaking. He’s concentrating on compressions. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen—

“—tient is twenty four—“ Steph is talking to someone the phone, all Bruce can hear is numbers. “—derwater for maybe two and a half minutes—“

“113 seconds.” Bruce says. Twenty-six, twenty seven, twenty eight.

Dick breathes again, pushes air into his brother’s lungs in a poor mimcry of life. Two more sets then they’ll need to swap, Bruce thinks. He starts counting again. Tries to force Jason’s heart to start beating again. One, two, three, four—

“The ambulance is six minutes away.” Steph says.

Bruce hears a siren after five minutes and seven seconds.

~~

It’s thirteen hours and forty two minutes later. Nearly five am. They’ve been back from the hospital two hours. Bruce sits in the drawing room. He hasn’t slept. He can’t face the nightmares. He knows they’ll come.

He remembers sitting here twelve years ago. Jason, small for his age, all elbows and knees. Wrapped in a blanket and Bruce’s arms, nose and ears still pink from the cold. That winter had been bitter. Had set in early and set in deep. Jason had fallen through the ice that had covered the pool. Sunk straight to the bottom whilst Ace barked and bayed on the poolside.

He’d shared Bruce’s bed for over a month afterwards. Always insisting he would be fine in his own room. Always crawling into Bruce’s arms a few hours later, full of tears and apologies. Sleep having dragged him back down to the pool floor.

Bruce had slept better with Jason there too. His boyish curls tucked under Bruce’s chin, his warm hands clutching Bruce’s pyjamas. Soft snores providing the solid proof of life Bruce needed, every time he woke from visions of the twelve year old floating lifeless in the water.

But Jason wasn’t twelve anymore. And a lifetime had passed since that winter. As terrifying as today had been, Jason wouldn’t tolerate Bruce watching him sleep just to alleviate a few nightmares.

It was easier for Bruce to stay awake.

“B?”

Bruce turns at the sound of a hoarse voice. Jason stands in the doorway. He’s wearing one of Bruce’s old hoodies. His fingers clutch a the cuffs, the sleeves too long for his arms.

“Jay.” Bruce says, and he tries to keep the relief out of his voice. He doesn’t need sleep to have nightmares. “Everything okay?”

Jason nods slowly, rubs the back of his neck with his hand. Then shrugs. “Can’t sleep.” He mumbles. He drags his feet over to the couch. Sits at the other end to Bruce.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bruce asks. He sits up, uses the motion to shift closer to the younger man.

Jason shakes his head, doesn’t meet Bruce’s eye. He mumbles something Bruce doesn’t catch. Takes a deep breath, and grimaces. His lungs still ache from water damage. “I’m sorry.” He says eventually. His words are barely a whisper, his voice thick with emotion. “I should have fixed it.” He mumbles.

Jason is twenty four. Six foot one and two hundred pounds of solid muscle. But as Bruce watches him all he can see is the twelve year old who fell through the ice. The twelve year old who never learned to swim and has nightmares about the pool.

“Oh Jay.” He says gently and pulls the younger man towards him.

Jason leans gratefully into the touch, wraps his arm around Bruce’s waist, tucks his head under Bruce’s chin. Bruce holds him close, doesn’t say anything when he feels the younger man’s tears soak through his shirt. “You have nothing to apologise for.” Bruce says softly. He presses a gentle kiss to Jason's head.

He leans back against the couch, Jason tucked up against him. Eventually the tears stop and Jason’s breathing levels out. He snores softly against Bruce’s chest. Bruce counts his boy’s breaths in and out. Feels his eyelids start to drop. Sleeps.

[supersilversleuth]

Your Words Aren’t Real (So Why Do They Hurt So Much?) by SuperSilverSpy

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Dick Grayson & Batfamily members, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Stephanie Brown, Dick Grayson & Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Grayson Whump, Whump, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I seem to be doing a lot of that these days…, Whumptober 2021, Mind Control, fear toxin, Hallucinations, anyway, Angst, SuperSilverSpy, SilverGrayson, SilverWhump, Taunting, Insults, ”who did this to you?”

Summary:

“Sometimes I wish you were my father, but I know you could never be. Bruce will always be my real father. You were just an inadequate stand-in.”

Dick choked, barely noticing the swift kick to his ribs before he was already stumbling back, ducking around Steph’s fist as he fought to regain his balance.

“You were a terrible brother,” said the voices of Jason and Tim. “All you ever did with me was make mistakes.”

OR Mind Control with a heaping of Angst

No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT… taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?”

Series:

Part 3 of 2021 Most Whumperful Time of the Year - Dick Grayson-centric

Language: English Words: 1,645 Chapters: 1/1

Nightwing awoke in a warehouse, surrounded by Batman, Red Hood, Robin, Spoiler, and Red Robin. They were all passed out on the ground, strange devices wrapped around their heads. They seemed relatively unharmed, not a bruise or laceration or twisted limb in sight.  He sighed in relief.

Looking around, Dick noted the absence of visible hostiles. He turned to Robin, who was closest to him and inspected the device around boy’s head; whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.  He felt along the smooth metal, searching (or feeling) for a way to remove it.

A moment later, several ding! sounds echoed in the warehouse, emitting from the head devices. Damian’s eyes opened, glowing a vibrant yellow. Dick backed up as the rest of his family began to rise around him. He knew mind control when he saw it, though that didn’t stop him from asking, “Uh…guys? You still in there?”

Their faces remained  expressionless as they turned threateningly towards him.

“Guess not,” he answered himself. “Looks like it’s just another exciting day in the life of the great and eternally stressed out Nightwing.”

He’d probably have to come up with yet another insightful and compelling speech to snap them out of it, par for the course for him at this point. Oh but how he wished it wasn’t. Every single time somebody in his family got brainwashed, or mind-controlled, or possessed (all of which happened way more often than it should), he was pretty much always the one to talk them down, or get beaten up and nearly killed for his efforts. It had reached a point where he wondered if Bruce was actively trying to get one of Dick’s siblings to accidentally kill him.

Well, at least one thing was different this time—he was facing off against five family members at once, instead of one, or two, or his entire f***ing team. But that was a story for another day.

Maybe, he could actually fight close to his full capability against them, without too much fear of hurting them. He didn’t have to knock them out or sedate them after all, he just needed to damage those device things around their heads.

Hood lunged at him first, guns drawn. Dick dodged, wrenching one of the man’s guns away with a grunt. He threw it across the room, knowing it did nothing for him in close quarters combat wherein he was attempting not to hurt, kill, or maim any of his would-be killers. There was no time for him to contemplate Jason’s likely reaction to the discovery of his ruined gun that would surely come later. Batman was already springing into action, fists swinging through the air in an unnaturally aimed-to-kill way.

Dick flipped around, dodging attacks from the two. He needed to bide his time, wait for the right opportunity to strike. He tried to electrocute them to short-circuit their metal head-band device things, but it didn’t really seem to do anything. He did, however, manage to get in a good hit to Jason’s head, which disoriented the man—and likely the person in control of him. Bruce went down next, Dick slipping the man’s belt out from around his waist in a move no one else in the world knew, and throwing a flash bomb in his face.

Pocketting what he could from the belt before tossing that too away (the emergency beacon didn’t work), he turned to face his new opponents. Spoiler and Robin, the short little duo wreaking havoc to his right, with Bruce and Jason getting back up on his left.

Whoever was controlling his family wasn’t the best at it, though forcing them to attempt murder against their own instincts was a feat in itself.

“You failed me,” said two very familiar voices in unison. It was Bruce and Damian.

Dick was so startled he almost didn’t manage to dodge the sneak attack Red Robin was attempting from behind.

“You failed the mission, our mission, you’ve failed the family I’ve given you, and the city I put in your responsibility.” It was just Bruce now, speaking blankly, words flowing out with no restraint.

Dick swallowed, but forced himself to ignore the man, ignore the words. It was probably just a program to detect negative emotion associated with thoughts of Nightwing and force the mind-controlled victim to...to say the thoughts out loud. Logically, he knew this.

Logic couldn’t prepare him for what came next.

“Sometimes I wish you were my father, but I know you could never be. Bruce will always be my real father. You were just an inadequate stand-in.”

Dick choked, barely noticing the swift kick to his ribs before he was already stumbling back, ducking around Steph’s fist as he fought to regain his balance.

“You were a terrible brother,” said the voices of Jason and Tim. “All you ever did with me was make mistakes.”

His vision had blurred at some point in time, he wasn’t sure when. A fist slammed into his jaw, a bow staff swiped at his feet. Purple flashed in the corner of his vision as his wrist was brutally snapped. Dick opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“They say never meet your heroes. I guess they were right then, hmmm? Except you were never my hero, and yet you still managed to disappoint me anyway.” Steph’s tone was sharp and biting as she jammed a shuriken into his shoulder.

Dick pushed her away, doing a messy backflip to land on Bruce, using what little momentum he had to push off towards Jason, tackling him for the umpteenth time.

“You were unfit to be a mentor, just look at you now. And the students become the masters…” said the scathing voices of Dami, Steph, and Tim. Laughter echoed in his ears, sounding cruelly amused. No, this wasn’t them, they would never say such things…

“Oh it’s all true,” said a voice from behind him, Jay’s voice. “What is it, Goldie, can’t handle the pressure?”

Dick tried in vain to block the voices out, focusing just long enough to knock the device around Tim’s head askew.

The boy fell to the ground, reality mixing with fantasy as Tim’s eyes looked up at him, cold and lifeless, as blood pooled around Tim’s twisted body, as if he’d fallen… Corpse-pale lips parted, harsh words spilling out onto unforgiving ground, “You think I’m just like you, but you’re wrong. I’m better. You couldn’t beat me if you tried. I’m too pure, somehow untainted by your doomed soul, even after all this time.”

Crazed laughter echoed in Dick’s ears, even as he blinked and saw Tim as he actually was, lying unconscious—and alive, on the ground.

“Look at that, failing to protect those you love most? You’re worthless to them, and to me. I should never have taken you in.” The words were growled in a familiar deep register, and yet...the tone was unusually cruel—

Dick found himself sprawled on the ground, back still smarting from where he’d been kicked. He struggled to his good hand and knees, only to hear the sound of a gun cocking. He looked up. Jason stood above him, Steph and Damian on either side.

“Tt, Grayson, always so pathetic.” For a moment, Dami seemed to be wearing an older version of his uniform, from when he was still Dick’s Robin…

Steph tossed her hair back, giggling, and Dick saw her in a different costume, that of Robin, and then it changed to Batgirl. Gah, he was so confused.

She wasn’t. “You’re not going to make it this time around. How does it feel knowing we’d all be glad? You’ve hurt us more than helped us, Dick. It’s time you’ve faced that fact.”

Jason smirked down at him. “Any last words? We all know you don’t deserve them, but, well,” he smirked, “I’m feeling charitable today.”

Dick lunged upward, body tensed as if to tackle, arms outstretched as if to hug. Dick himself wasn’t quite sure what it was meant to be, what he wanted anymore…

Bang!

The gun went off, bullet burying itself in Dick’s side.

Three pairs of feet began to kick at his prone body from all sides. He curled in on himself, clutching desperately at the bullet wound, mind hazy with blood loss and something...else… A scraping noise, close to his ear. Dick barely registered it through the pain of the systematic blows raining down. Another pair of feet entered his vision, Bruce’s Batman boots. Dick panicked, using one hand to staunch the blood flow while the other went to his neck, to where he instinctively knew the real problem was. There was a device, attached to his neck, like a mini version of what the others had, but missing a few parts. He yanked it off, and immediately, he heard the thumps of his hopefully just unconscious family members falling to the ground.

Dick squinted at the device, as he felt himself joining them in the land of darkness. A familiar scarecrow label stared back at him, Jervis Tetch craftsmanship was practically written all over the thing as well…

—

Jason woke, groggy and disoriented. He found himself amongst other bats, all lying on the floor in a circle like some kind of crazy sorcerer spell gone wrong. The others were slowly waking, blinking and shaking their heads as if to clear the fog away. And in the middle of it all, at the center of their little coming-back-to-the-land-of-the-living circle, lay Dick Grayson, covered in blood, close to passing out.

The guy was nearly unrecognizable, but Jason would recognize that ridiculous hairstyle anywhere. Scrambling over to his brother’s side, Jason ignored the way the room spun, placing a hand on Dick’s shoulder and looking down at the man, brow pinched in concern.

“Dickie?” he asked, “Who did this to you?”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 7

First

Previous

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

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

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

Now, they sat outside Drake Manor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded his agreement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kinda, yeah.”

He groaned again, louder this time.

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, how the mighty hath fallen.”

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

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

He huffed a little. “Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

He hung up and turned to her, smiling widely.

“We have money.”

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

He frowned confusedly. “What?”

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

He huffed. “It’s not that funny.”

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

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

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

Tim lit up. “HA. He agrees with me.”

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

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

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

“Weak,” Tim teased.

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

“I am. Look at him. He’s so cute.”

“Yeah. He is.”

~

Tim leaned back against the bed frame.

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

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

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

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

So: apartments.

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

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

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

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

“So, kiddo, what do you want to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... then…?”

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

… yikes.

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

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

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

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

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

“Want to spar?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

Next

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

[rosy-cheekx]

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling. 

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

--

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

--

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

[bestiesenpai]

firsts with itadori yuji

I hope you don’t mind I’m kind of running with this idea and adding more than you asked lol I just...i don’t know it butters my biscuit. Also gender neutral reader~

First meeting:

It’s at his old school

You’re in his class, but you never talk to each other! Itadori is shy with you, believe it or not! He wants to say something but whenever he thinks about going up to you, whether you’re alone or with a group, his stomach twists in knots

Luckily though, you’re also in a club that ends right when he goes to the hospital to see his grandpa, so he’ll walk a little slower to see you coming out of your club room talking and laughing with your friends and he’ll imagine what it must be like to be in a club with you

Will not ask you to join his club tho, shy shy shy he is

It’s only when it’s raining and, yes you guessed it correctly folks, you don’t have an umbrella!

Itadori Yuji has a few options here lads, what do we think he’ll pick?

Option one: be a cool guy and slide right up to you with his umbrella already open in his hands and tell you that he’ll walk you home

Option two: ask politely if you’d like to walk under his umbrella together to your house and maybe stop at a convenience store along the way for a candy?

Option three: be a cool guy(again) and just put the umbrella in your hands and tell you to use it and he walks out into the rain with only his hood on, enticing you to run out to him and say that you two can share an umbrella!

What option do you think he’s chosen?

Now was Yujis chance. You were alone, standing just inside the school entryway rocking back and forth on your heels, a little pout on your lips at seeing the downpour. It had only just started raining, it was clear weather all week, so this rain is more than just a little unexpected.

Gripping his umbrella tightly in his hands, Yuji walks up to you, intent on asking if you want to share his. He’d be more than happy to walk you home, his grandpa would be happy to hear that he walked his crush home instead of ‘wasting his time’ coming to the hospital.

“H-hey!” Yuji’s voice goes higher than he intended when he drops his umbrella and kicks it forward as he walks, launching it at your feet and making you jump a little and turn around. His face erupts in a fiery blush when you pick it up and look at him quizzically.

“Here you go.” You say, holding it out for him to take. Yuji shakes his head almost violently, much to your confusion. “Uhm, Itadori, what are you trying to say?”

You know his name. Oh fuck, you know his name and here he is making a fool of himself.

“I-I- no, take my umbrella.” His brain is in critical overdrive. He truly might pass out. “Take my umbrella! I have my hood, and I’m not going very far! Just to the hospital, to see my grandpa! They’ll probably have an umbrella there I can borrow if it’s still raining!” He really, honestly, truly didn’t mean to say all that, but the words came out like vomit.

“Oh, that’s nice, thank you so much!” Your smile warms his heart but does nothing to calm him down. “But I’m-”

“(Y/N)!” One of your friends shouts from down the hall, and they quickly round the corner with their own umbrella in their hands.

“Hey!”

“I got my umbrella from the classroom, let's go home now!” Your friend quickly notices Yuji. “Hi Itadori, what’s up?”

“He offered me his umbrella. Thanks again, Itadori!” Grabbing his hand, you put the umbrella back in his possession.

“Uh- yeah! You- welcome! Welcome!” Yuji stutters out, waving dumbly back at you as you wave at him and leave the school with a cute little smile on your cheeks.

Yuji was never going to wash his hand again.

First hangout:

This one happens as a going away party for himself after he’s accepted into his new school

He wants to say goodbye to his clubmates, and somehow word got out and a few classmates are coming as well - even you!

Everyone got him a little cake and you’ve all signed a going away card, and Yuji hones in on your message, a cute swirly one written in a glitter gel pen with a heart by his name

Afterschool in the classroom, you all decide to play games and stuff, and that’s when he gets to be close to you

“(Y/N), Itadori, you’re up next!” Somehow a tournament style game has started of who can hold their breath the longest. Standing face to face at the front of the room, you give him a big thumbs up.

“You’re probably going to win, Itadori, I’m bad at this kind of thing.” You laugh.

“Let’s see.” Is all he can say as a reply. You’d talked a bit more after your first meeting, but he could never get more than a few words out at a time.

“Go!” Sucking in deep breaths, you stare at each other with puffed out cheeks. You’re already struggling, fighting back laughter and clapping a hand over your mouth. Yuji thinks he might lose just from seeing how cute you are in front of him.

“Ahhh!” You lose, just like you said you would. Dizzy from lack of air, you stumble forward into him, laughing and gripping the front of his jacket. “Told you!” His hand lands on your shoulder and Yuji is sure he could pass away happy right now.

“Yeah, you are pretty bad.” Yuji laughs, finally breaking his nervous shell around you the more you laugh and pat him on the arm.

After this game, you form a team and play with a ball, help each other with cards, and you even paint his nails in a pretty polish you’d brought from home. At the end, Yuji is still too nervous to ask for your number, so this is the last time you see each other.

First confession:

It’s been two years since then, he’s a third year now and Yuji still thinks about you. He still checks in with his old school friends from time to time and asks about you, and he follows you on Instagram and sees the things you post and how much you’ve changed over the years

He’s not content living this way, only seeing and hearing about you like this, but it’s been two years since you last saw each other and you weren’t exactly close before you left, so he couldn’t just slide into your DM’s

And in the past two years he’s changed. A lot. Not only has he been swamped with his new life, he also has a whole nother soul inside of him that quickly learned of his long lost crush and teased him about it nonstop

But on a free day in the city with Nobara, he’s quite literally buzzing - you’re in the same area. He saw you post last night about going to a certain cafe and all he had to do was ask Nobara if she wanted to go to the city and she said yes immediately.

And now he’s standing in front of said cafe, and he can see you inside. Surprisingly you’re alone, and his fingers itch to go in and ‘casually’ bump into you

Nobara knows of his crush on you as well, and as soon as she spots you she’s pushing Yuji through the door, and of course they cause a fucking scene

“Get in the fucking cafe!” Nobara is shouting not so quietly. There’s people walking past them, looking confused, and Yuji could literally die right now, especially when he makes eye contact with you.

He gives up then, letting himself get pushed into the cafe. He expects Nobara to follow after him but she’s running down the street cackling evilly. Yuji has no other option than to go in and order a drink, albeit shamefully.

“H-hi. Is this seat taken?” He asks you. You’d been watching him ever since you saw him with a big smile barely concealed by your hand.

“Of course not, Itadori.” You giggle.

God, he’s missed you.

Sitting down across from you, Yuji takes a quick sip of his drink to soothe his suddenly parched throat. Sukuna knows better than to pop out in public, but that still doesn’t stop Yuji from putting a hand over one of the marks below his eyes, just in case.

“How have you been (Y/N)?” He tries to say casually, but his voice warbles and Sukuna chuckles quietly for only him to hear.

“I’ve been good! It’s been so long, Itadori, I’ve missed you!” You pout, a wicked sight for his heart, and you reach across the table to pat Yuji on the arm. “I’ve been wanting to message you on Instagram for forever now but I’ve been too nervous you wouldn’t really remember me!”

“You have?” Yuji gasped dramatically, and he could hear not only you but Sukuna laughing at him.

“Yeah! I’m actually really surprised to see you here, I thought you went to a school out in another prefecture.”

“N-no! I’m still in Tokyo!”

“Really, we should totally hang out sometime!”

“Yes!” This couldn’t be going any better for Yuji. There’s a pause in conversation where you both take a sip of your drinks.

“So, was that your girlfriend pushing you into the cafe?”

“What?!” Yuji nearly shouts, almost spitting out his drink. “G-girlfriend?!” His cheeks blush lightly, and he shakes his head. “No. No way, she is not my girlfriend. She’s my classmate.”

“That’s good to hear, actually.” Now is your turn to be embarrassed, and a bashful smile spreads on your cheeks. “Because I’ve always kind of liked you.”

What.

“What?!” This time Yuji does shout, Sukuna is definitely laughing at him and teasing him, and you’re nodding in confirmation. “Oh my god.” Running a hand through his hair, Yuji doesn’t even have to think about his next words. “I like you too! A lot!”

“Really?” Your brow raises.

“Yes! Ever since first year. I’ve had a-” was he really about to say this? “A massive crush on you.” He realizes what he’s said is a little heavier than what you said. A massive crush is much different than kind of liking someone, but he can’t help it. And Sukuna is quick to point out the difference in his head as well.

“Then we really have to hang out!” Yuji laughs, relieved you feel the same way.

“It’s a date.” He says and delights in the way you share a cheeky smile.

“Definitely a date.”

First date:

Yuji never thought he’d ever have the opportunity to go on a date with you, at least not in this lifetime

You exchange numbers at the cafe and as soon as Yuji gets back to the dorms he’s texting you, asking if you got home okay and to let him know when you’re free

That first text is a gateway drug because now he can’t stop texting you all the time, even when he’s in class or should be training

He’s staying up far too late to message you but no one can stop him

When your schedules finally align again, you both settle on going to a ramen shop close by his old school

6pm. That’s the time you agreed to meet up. So why was Yuji already down the block from the restaurant at 5:15?

“God you’re so desperate!” Sukuna laughed as Yuji sat in an empty park waiting for time to go by.

“I know, I know.” He groaned back, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes together. “I was so nervous about being late I didn’t even think!”

“Ya know, when I had my own body, I used to go on dates all the time! Women flocked to me, I was a god!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Slapping a hand over the mouth that had appeared, Yuji rolled his eyes. “I’m not like you, we know this.”

“I was hoping I’d be rubbing off on you, kid, but it seems not.” Sukuna sighed in disappointment. When 6pm finally came, Yuji all but ran to the restaurant. He was still ten minutes early, and when you came strolling up the nervous jitters he had increased.

“Hi!” You looked so cute, Yuji could pass out.

“H-hey.” He waved stupidly, and then stumbled to open the door for you. Quickly grabbing a table, he was paying more attention to you than the menu.

“What’re you gonna get? I can’t decide!” You whined, slapping your menu against the table.

“Oh uhm, maybe this one?” Pointing at the first thing he saw that looked mildly interesting, he watched you nod your head and hum. “Or maybe this.” Looking at the menu properly, Yuji pointed at something he’d actually get.

“Ooooh, I wanna get that too! If you get it, will you let me try some?” Your face lit up and you bit your lip, eyes darting between things on the menu.

“Of course!” Yuji nodded without any hesitation.

“Yay! I just can’t decide, everything looks so good!”

“It does!” As he laughed and kept looking at things on the menu with you, Yuji finally let himself relax a little bit. You made great conversation, asking about his new and how he’d been, how he got those scars under his eyes and what his new school was like.

Yuji had never had so much fun talking with someone before, and when the date came to a close, he could nearly cry. He wanted to be with you all the time, see you more often and build more memories together. The thought of going back to his old school even came back.

“I’ll walk you to the station.” He said instead, pushing away all the thoughts in his head.

“Thanks.” You were side by side walking down the block, and Yuji was beginning to find it more and more coincidental that your hand kept bumping into his. He could feel you looking at him from the corner of your eye, and he knew he had to make the leap.

Slipping his hand into yours, he wound your fingers together and squeezed. Both of your palms were kind of sweaty and neither of you looked at each other, but you squeezed his hand back and held it tightly until you got to the station and your train arrived.

First kiss:

After the first date, Yuji is hooked

Any chance the two of you have to be together, he takes even if it means shirking his responsibilities a little bit(Fushiguro is upset but who can stop love?)

You go get ice cream together, go to the arcade, the movies, the park, you even meet Nobara and Fushiguro on a chance day

You do all these things together, but Yuji still hasn’t kissed you!

He wants to, so so bad, but he just can’t, he’d die of embarrazzment if he fucked up and like hit you in the head or something

But sometimes, as nike said, you just gotta do it

It’s raining again, just like when you first spoke to each other. A torrential downpour, but this time you didn’t have a friend coming with their umbrella to the front of the school to share with you. Yuji was coming to your school after your club to pick you up for an impromptu date.

“Hey!” You shouted, braving the rain and meeting him halfway when you spotted him coming up. Hugging him tightly, you shivered from the wind whipping through the air.

“Hi.” Slipping your bag from around your shoulders, Yuji slung it over his shoulder. His arm settled on your waist, holding you close and making sure you were completely covered. Walking so close together like this made him happy, and he almost pressed a kiss to your head.

“Yuji.” You said as you were walking, stopping by a low river lined with trees.

“Hm?” He still couldn’t get over the fact that you were now saying his first name. The both of you stopped walking and you stepped back a little from him, wringing your hands nervously.

“We’ve been going out for a while now and…” Biting your lip nervously, you couldn’t meet his eyes and looked out at the trees being pelted with water. “And I was wondering if you uh- if you wanted to be my boyfriend?”

Oh shit. Yuji was so shocked, he nearly dropped the umbrella.

“B-boyfriend?” He squeaked, his cheeks spreading in a bashful smile. “I’d love to.”

“Really?” Letting out a relieved sigh, you clasped a hand over your heart. “That’s good! I was so nervous.” The way you were looking at him, Yuji knew this was the perfect time to kiss you.

“C-can I kiss you?” His question made your eyes widen, and silently you nodded your head.

Sliding his foot forward on the wet pavement, Yuji faltered a few inches from your mouth, suddenly nervous. He had never kissed anyone before, and what if he was horrible at it and you hated it?

He didn’t have any time to keep thinking about it though, because you closed the gap and kissed him. Dropping his umbrella in shock, Yuji’s eyes widened and he kissed you back, grabbing your shoulder to steady himself.

It was a sweet and innocent first kiss, soft and gentle for the inexperience shared between you. It didn’t even last that long, but it was the most memorable moment of Yuji's life.

“How was that?” He asked when he pulled away. The two of you were getting absolutely soaked with the rain and it dripped down his face into his eyes and mouth.

“Great.” You giggled shyly, putting a hand on your face to hide yourself. Yuji laughed as well and gave your cheek a kiss before picking up the fallen umbrella.

“You wanna go to that ramen shop?” Yuji whispered close to your ear, adjusting your bag on his shoulder.

“Sure.” Turning to him, your eyes dropped to his lips and you gave him a quick peck, breaking out into a fit of giggles again. Beginning to walk down the street, if anyone saw the two of you, they would immediately know what young love looked liked, as it was perfectly plastered on both of your faces.

[justcourttee]

Love, Right?

This was an ask from AO3, but I loved it so much and wanted to post it here too.

vasiliassuns asked: aaaaa!! i love all these one shots so much:)! would it be any trouble to ask for the waynes (minus alfred, he knows all) being in paris to research ladybug and accidentally see marinette transform before watching her whoop ass? (i know theres a lot of fics with this in the damianette tag, but aa!! such a good trope,,,and your writing is awesome.) its totally cool if not! i also wanna add that im super excited for the next chapter:) seriously tho your writing is awesome and i adore it

If you had told Damian Al Ghul Wayne that he would discover the love of his life in a shotty alleyway in Paris, France, he would’ve laughed in your face.

Yet there he was, his heart racing a million times a minute as he watched her swing into action sending the akumatized person sailing with a solid kick to their chest.

‘Flawless Execution, I couldn’t have done it better myself.’

Damian ignored the crowds pushing against him trying to take cover in the nearest shelter. He knew that by now his family would’ve seen his transmission from the camera contacts that Barbara had provided them before leaving Gotham. They would also be racing toward the battle hoping to catch a glimpse of how these victims communicated with the notorious Hawkmoth.

He turned the corner colliding into three other rushing bodies.

They all fell to the ground with a groan, each holding their own heads with equal scowls directed at the others. Damian was the first to find his feet as he crossed her arms, glaring down on his mess of brothers. Three voices filled the alleyway simultaneously, all as panicked at the other.

“Damian was that the coffee goddess-”

“Damian was that the flying angel from the acrobat gym-”

“Damian was that your girlfriend-”

Everyone silenced as their gazes shifted to where Jason stood. He only shrugged his shoulders in response, that familiar smirk pulling at his lips.

“She’s not my girlfriend Todd.” Damian tried to say it with the straightest face he could manage but he could do nothing to hide the red that had crept up his cheeks.

“Well, whatever she is doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the flying angel is Ladybug! That information would’ve been helpful earlier. We were already hanging out in civilian form, I mean, we could’ve been having our top-secret meetings without the masks!”

“Dick, some of us care about our secret identities unlike you.”

Dick pouted as Tim elbowed his side.

“All I’m saying is that if she can trust me to catch her 40 feet above the ground, then she should be able to trust me with her secret identity.”

“It’s not like she knows our identity’s Richard.” Damian narrowed his eyes at the older boy essentially silencing his continuous whining. “Besides, she probably didn’t want to harm us. If we showed care for her superheroine side, then Hawkmoth could try to attack us to get to her.”

Jason flailed his hand around mocking Damian’s speech behind his head earning a giggle from the others. Damian’s whole face flushed red as he tried to count backward from 10 to avoid killing Jason.

A blur of red landed in front of him, her slightly flushed face staring above them, as determined as ever.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

Her eyes darted down to meet his, a slightly surprised look crossing her face.

“Gentlemen, please return to the shelter. It’s not safe right now.”

The boys stared at each other, calculating their best chances of regrouping if they split now. She swung off before she heard their answer shielding them from the oncoming blow. Damian wanted to rush to her side and help her back to her feet but it wasn’t the right moment.

As they made their way back toward the shelter, Damian’s mind was racing a million times a minute.

The quiet girl with a load of sass who helped him study French couldn’t be the bold superheroine who fought crime on a daily basis right? It seemed illogical.

Yet the more he thought about it, the more he could see it. The way she stood up in class to Chloe and Lila whenever they attacked him, the way she could maneuver around every situation within mere seconds of seeing how it would play out, the way those same blue eyes would shine with determination when she knew she was the smartest one in the room and was only being challenged to prove it.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Wait, can you say that again? I wanna make it my ringtone.”

Damian stuck his foot out as he skidded to a stop taking joy in seeing Todd tumble to the ground, a satisfying rip coming from his new leather jacket.

“Ah, c’mon man, it was just a joke!”

A small scream of terror caught their attention. A girl stood in the middle of the cobblestone, clinging to a stuffed bear, the Akuma looming over her as if ready to strike. Damian knew he couldn’t make it quick enough, but damn if he wasn’t going to try.

The Akuma's hand came down before he had even moved an inch, a sickening smack turning Damian’s stomach. As the dust cleared, Damian raced forward, intent on beheading any man who dared to lay hands on a child so small, but the Akuma was nowhere in sight.

The only thing that was left was a breathless Ladybug, dropped to her knees in front of the small girl, a white butterfly fluttering into the sky.

“Mar-Ladybug!”

Her head perked up at the sound of Damian’s voice as he fell beside her, checking her over for any injuries.

“I’m fine Damian, please, check on the girl.”

As if Damian needed any more confirmation that Ladybug was Marinette. Here she was not even denying that she knew him in that cute stammering manner she did. With a small nod, he turned to check over the girl, making sure the Akuma hadn’t bruised her.

Beside him, Ladybug stumbled to her feet throwing her Miraculous Cure into the air. Instantly, Damian noticed all the damage disappearing under the blinding lights as if the battle had never happened in the first place. He wanted to ask her how the magic behind it worked, but the sound of a shout cut him off.

“Oi! Get back here you little brat! I’m not done teaching you a lesson for eating my food!”

Instantly the girl in his arms became smaller. Ladybug noticed it as well as her eyes hardened, almost daring the man to take a step forward.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there. You were just a victim of Hawkmoth’s powers and need to be checked over by Chat Noir.”

The blonde hero nodded warily as if ready to attack from behind if things went south.

“I ain’t doing any of that. This child right here is mine and needs to be taught a lesson one way or another.”

Ladybug glanced behind her at the small girl’s silent tears as she clung to Damian’s arms as if they were her lifeline.

“You will be doing no such thing. In fact, by the end of today, she will no longer be your child. I suggest you leave now sir, I wouldn’t want things to get ugly.”

The man had the audacity to laugh. It fueled the rage inside Damian, but he refused to let go of the girl. He feared that if he did, she would run.

“What are you gonna do? You superheroes can’t touch me if I’m not akumatized.”

In a flash, he lunged forward. Ladybug wasn’t even fazed as she sidestepped him, pushing his head down into the cobblestone below. It was only one blow, but he was out cold, a small split on his forehead.

Damian couldn’t help the way his jaw hung.

“Medic, he’s going to need stitches. Sir,” Damian shook the shock from his face as he met her eyes. “This child seems to have taken a liking to you, would you mind taking her to the police station for me? Tell them I will be there soon to make my report and check on her.”

Damian nodded, unable to find his voice as those intimidating eyes stared down into his.

“And one more thing, I’ll be checking in with you later as well. It seems we have much to talk about little bird.”

Damian’s entire face flushed red as she swung off with her partner, his eyes never leaving her figure until she was out of sight. The sound of pounding feet on the pavement brought him back to reality as his brother’s skidded in front of him, their faces as impressed as his.

“Hey Damian, this is your fair warning. If you don’t date her, I might.”

“Ditto.”

“Me three.”

Damian stumbled over his denial as he watched his brother’s burst into laughter. Dick gathered the young girl from his arms, cooing at her until she was calm once more, allowing him to finally stand.

“You all are not worthy of her, only I am.”

Jason crossed his arms mocking Damian’s half pout as he and Tim shared another laugh at the murderous look in his eyes. He could care less what these imbeciles thought, the only thing that mattered was what she did.

And he couldn’t wait to find out.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey 

[gunpowdville]

The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED], Chapter 2

chapter: 2/2

relationships: Drumbot Brian-Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius Von Raum, Nastya Rasputina/the Aurora

Other things: genderfluid Tim, she/her Tim, he/fae Marius, temporary character death, possession, canon-typical violence. but mostly literally just silly self-indulgent fluff.

chapter 1

ao3

Read here below the cut >:}

The Rec Room: Tim, Lyf, Marius. All 10 still alive. (a few minutes before It is released)

Lazy days on Aurora are hard to come by, and when they do happen, they are spent most often by complaining about how boring lazy days are. Some, however, can find content in the slower days spent in relative peace and quiet. Case in point: the three currently buried in a pillow nest in the middle of the rec room floor.

The situation is this: the pillows and cushions from the furniture all stripped away and stolen to build a comfortable arrangement on the floor. Gunpowder Tim, in simply a loose blouse and leggings, hair braided elegantly over one shoulder. Lyfrassir Edda, in what is undeniably one of Tim’s waistcoats, perched in between the gunner’s legs, having their hair braided by her deft hands. Marius von Raum, sprawled across Lyf’s lap, waving his hands about animatedly as he talks.

“You left out the best part,” Tim says as Marius finishes relaying the story of how fae and Raph had joined the crew. “You forgot to mention the bit where Bri gave the two of you an actual job interview. And how, upon being asked your greatest strengths, you said, and I quote, ‘I’m hot.’”

“You did not,” Lyf looks utterly scandalized. “At a job interview?”

“You forget, love, that the job fae was applying for was being a Mechanism,” Tim points out, running her fingers through the former inspector’s hair. “The criteria is pretty much being able to play an instrument and willing to do crime.”

“Speaking of,” Marius says, batting aimlessly at Tim’s face where it peeks at him over Lyf’s shoulder. “It’s a shame that we only really have two or so songs together, Tim. We should get to sing together more.”

Tim nods in agreement. “We’re simply too powerful together.”

“I’ve been thinking of trying to get Jonny to let the three of us sing Blood & Whiskey,” Marius admits, then frowns. “Oh, wait, sorry Lyffers, I forgot you sound like a drowning cat when you sing.”

“I do not!” Lyf flushes scarlet, turning their face away from Tim’s raised eyebrow.

“You’re right, sorry, it’s more like a drowning cat playing a kazoo.”

Lyf makes an attempt to hit Marius lightly, but the violinist just catches their hand and kisses the back of it, grinning wickedly.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you sing,” Tim says slyly, tying off the braid and leaning forward so she can rest her chin on Lyf’s shoulder. “Would you sing for me?”

“Do you enjoy the sound of a drowning cat playing a kazoo?” Lyf asks her.

“Well, not exactly…”

“Then according to Mare, you do not want to hear me sing.”

Tim pouts, showing off her mastery of sad puppy dog eyes. The overhead lights glinting off the metal make them sparkle, creating a masterfully alluring wide gaze. “Please? Just a bit? For me?”

It is next to impossible to argue with those eyes, especially once you’ve already fallen hard for the person making them at you. With a sigh, Lyf squeezes their eyes tight shut and awkwardly sings a few lines of Blood & Whiskey. It sounds, as promised, like a drowning cat playing a kazoo.

Tim manages to hold a straight face for roughly three seconds before guffawing with laughter, burying her face in the spot between Lyf’s shoulder and neck to smother her cackles.

Lyf breaks off, turning their head slightly with a gently irritated eyebrow raised at their partner. “Are you finished?”

“Sorry,” Tim gasps between giggles, nuzzling further into their neck, failing miserably at trying to stifle her mirth. “I- I just- I didn’t expect it to actually sound- like that- I’m- I’m sorry-”

“I told you,” Marius crows, grinning up at Lyf and Tim with triumphant teasing fire in faer eyes. “Wasn’t I right?”

“You two are very rude to me,” Lyf huffs, sticking their nose in the air haughtily. Tim lifts her face from their shoulder and noses their jaw, murmuring something about drowning cats and how they have never sounded more attractive. Lyf pointedly ignores her.

“Aw, hey, don’t be like that, fairytale,” Marius heaves himself into a sitting position and catches the former inspector’s face in his hands. “Y’know we’re just teasing you ‘cuz we love you, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,”Lyf sighs, giving in and letting faer kiss them.

“Sappy,” Tim comments, earning a petulant finger from Marius. “Also, fairytale?”

“They’re my fairytale,” Marius declares proudly, and Tim pouts. “What am I, then?”

“You,” Lyf contemplates, turning their head to meet Tim’s metallic gaze with their own iridescent one. “You’re my battle cry. You’re the song I sing for strength when I can’t find it. You’re my declaration to the world that I will not stand still and break. You’re the inspiration that keeps me fighting. My battle cry.”

“Well,” Tim blinks, making a valiant attempt to keep her voice steady. “Hey now. You didn’t have to go and do that to me.”

Lyf’s brow furrows, concern instantly evident in their features. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, goddamnit, you said everything right, you- fuck.” without another word, Tim fists a hand in the front of their shirt and pulls them into a kiss. “I fucking love you.”

Lyf’s (no doubt sappy as all hell) response is cut off by Marius, who groans and rolls out of their lap with a huff. “If you two are going to be like that, I’m leaving.”

“You started it,” Tim points out, “but whatever, more Lyf time for me.”

Marius sticks faer tongue out at her as fae leaves. “Go see if Bri’s made me any munchies!” Tim calls after him, before turning back to her partner with a decidedly malicious smirk. “Now, where were we?”

They are interrupted not long after by Brian, who comes barging into the room without preamble, zeroes distractedly in on the pair of them, says “Oh. Hello, dears. Have either of you seen an unidentifiable mass of sentient ooze? Slightly larger than an octokitten? It ate Marius,” and then hurries out the opposite door.

Tim and Lyf glance at each other, attempting to register his words. “Wha- Brian, what?”

But the Drumbot has already disappeared down the corridor, leaving the two of them to scramble to their feet and race after him, their questions landing on ignorant ears.

Nastya, the corridors: 9 left alive, 1 eaten.

Nastya spends her lazy days with her girlfriend, most of the time. She enjoys the quieter hours when she can work on repairs, listening to Aurora tell her stories or complain about whatever is on her mind. This particular lazy day, the engineer is sitting cross-legged on the floor of one of the corridors, right outside Jonny’s room, her hands deftly working at the wires beneath one of the wall panels. Aurora is telling her about a new program she and Ivy are working on, a sort of virtual reality experience for the shooting range that will ‘revitalize the excitement of warfare’, in her words. Nastya listens intently, interjecting with questions when she has them and praise when it is deserved.

As she finishes up, carefully replacing the wall panel and smiling softly at Aurora’s petulant complaints, something drops from the air vent above her. She takes a smooth step back as the thing falls to the floor with a wet thwack. At first glance it resembles an octokitten, but as it unfurls it reveals itself as more of a dark glistening lump, tendrils of gooey flesh extending across the floor toward Nastya.

“Well, hello,” The engineer says, tilting her head to study it. “What are you?”

That is the cake our Drumbot and his science officer made, Aurora answers for her. Don’t touch it.

“This is a cake?”

I believe it was supposed to be.

“And what is it now?”

Decidedly not a cake.

It’s at that moment that Ivy comes racing into the corridor, breathless and looking faintly annoyed. “Ah. Nastya. Good. Have you seen-” her eyes drift to the thing at Nastya’s feet. “That.”

“I am certainly looking at it right now,” Nastya says in response, nudging a toe forward to poke at it. Ivy throws out an arm to stop her. “Do not. Unless you want to get eaten.”

Nastya raises an eyebrow and quickly steps back, just as an octokitten meanders into the area, approaching the blob with a curious ‘mrrp’. Ivy dives for it, but the creature is much faster, latching onto the octokitten in a second. But instead of eating it, the thing seems to melt into it, turning it a darker color.

“Hm,” Ivy hums curiously. “That’s new.”

The possessed octokitten zeroes in on Ivy and Nastya, yawning wide to show a lot more teeth than should be able to fit in its mouth.

“Run?” Nastya suggests, watching the kitten start forward on uneasy tentacles.

“Run,” Ivy agrees.

Jonny & Ashes, the shooting range: 9 left alive, 1 eaten.

The shooting range is one of the few rooms on Aurora that isn’t quiet on lazy days. This day is no different from any other in that regard, with the sounds of gunfire and cackling echoing from behind the wide open door. The quartermaster and the first mate are both in there, trapped in a pointless competition to outshoot each other. They have done this many times before, and who wins changes nearly every time. But it’s an excellent way to distract and relieve stress, and Jonny had noticed Ashes appearing down earlier, so he had suggested a shooting competition. He never said that he was doing it to cheer them up, but he’s pretty sure they’ve caught on to his intentions.

“I kicked your ass harder than Brian got his ass kicked in that sun,” Ashes remarks, standing over Jonny, who lies prone on the floor. Jonny groans and sits up, shoving his singed hair off of his forehead. “You cheated.”

“Says what rules?” Ashes snorts, reaching down to help him up.

“It was a shooting match, O’Reilly, not a goddamn grenade match.”

“Your screaming was hilarious, though.”

Jonny scowls and flips them off. Ashes laughs and slips another grenade into their pocket, a little something to save for later.

The trapdoor in the ceiling of the shooting range drops open, and Raphaella tumbles through, falling head over heels and landing neatly on her feet with a dancer’s grace. “We have something of a problem.”

“Yeah, Ashes just fucking blew me up,” Jonny complains, and Ashes rolls their eyes. “You’re fine.”

“You’re fine,” Raphaella says at exactly the same time, and Ashes shoots a grin at her. “Anyway, Bri and I may have done… something.”

“You may have done something,” Brian argues, breezing into the room with Tim and Lyf close on his heels. “I take no responsibility.”

“Can we please go back to the part where it ate my boyfriend?” Lyf demands, causing Jonny’s eyebrows to shoot up practically to his hairline. “Someone’s eating boyfriends?”

“The octokittens are possessed,” this is Nastya, squeezing past Brian through the door, tailed by Ivy.

“Possessed?”

“Possessed,” Ivy confirms, to Brian’s incredulous outburst.

“D’you mean those octokittens?” Jonny asks, pointing to the door. Sure enough, a gaggle of octokittens meanders through, moving a bit unsteadily, oily dark colors writhing beneath their skin.

“That looks like- that’s-” Lyf’s eyes go wide as they stare at the kittens. “What the fuck is that?”

“It was supposed to be a cake,” Brian says mournfully.

“It ate Marius!”

“It’s technically your child, Lyf,” Raphaella pipes up. “The compound I used to make it is based on your blood samples.”

Lyf just stares at her.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Ashes remarks. They crouch down and flip open their lighter, holding it in front of one of the kittens’ face. It flinches, then snarls and shoots toward them, latching onto their foot, its jaws opening far wider than they should be able to. They try to kick it off, but its tentacles appear to have melted onto their skin and are slowly eating through. With a squelch, the odd entity detaches fully from its octokitten host, who blinks and scuttles into the corner.

With a pained grunt, Ashes drops their lighter onto the thing on their foot, successfully setting the thing alight. It recoils and retreats to the center of the floor, squelching in a frantic circle. It leaves behind nothing left of the quartermaster’s foot, and Ashes stumbles and is caught by Jonny, who steadies them and shoots a murderous look at the flaming blob.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Ashes hisses through their teeth, pain evident on their features. “Goddamn. What the fuck, you two.”

“Again, I take no responsibility,” Brian insists. Raphaella sticks her tongue out at him. “You are a bastard and a traitor and I never loved you anyway.”

Brian blows her a kiss and a wink.

“Interesting,” Ivy interrupts, pulling out a notepad and writing something down. “It appears fire is ineffective.”

This gets everyone’s attention directed back to the creature, which is indeed decidedly not dead or incapacitated in any way. It isn’t even on fire anymore. And it looks angry.

“You’re kidding me,” Ashes growls, staring at the thing with disgusted fury.

“Run,” Tim suggests, pushing Lyf gently out of the way as the thing focuses on them and begins to move forward. “Split up and run. It can’t get all of us at once.”

Jonny nods and dutifully starts off out of the room, taking Ashes with him, holding them up as they limp and curse. Ivy and Nastya shoot off in another direction, Nastya scooping up the disgruntled left-behind octokitten as she goes. Raphaella grabs Lyf’s wrist and pulls them up through the ceiling trapdoor, ignoring their startled protests. That leaves Tim with Brian. She turns to him, poised to ask what the plan is, but hesitates when she sees Brian standing there, head cocked to one side, staring blankly at the empty floor. The bifrost cake-creature is nowhere to be seen.

“Brian?” Tim steps forward, reaching out and resting a concerned hand on his shoulder. “Bri? You good?”

Brian’s head lifts, slowly, in an uncharacteristically stilted motion. His eyes are… wrong. Something is moving in them, and if Tim looks closely she can see it oozing from the corners. Oh. Oh no.

“Fuck,” she breathes, stumbling backward and reaching for a pistol. “Not Brian not Brian not Brian.”

The thing in Brian’s body smiles, forcing the expression onto the Drumbot’s face. It takes a step forward. Of course, it’s at that moment that the Toy Soldier decides to make its first appearance.

“Sorry I’m late!” It announces as it steps into the shooting range. “I was in the middle of a delightful painting using the blood from that corpse Jonny dragged onto the ship the other day! I didn’t want to leave it for too long in case it was ruined! Anyway, I heard there was a crew meeting?”

“Oh, I’d love to see that painting,” Tim says, momentarily distracted. The Toy Soldier claps its hands together excitedly. “Of course! I’ll set up a viewing!”

Tim grins. “Lovely. Now, what do you know of possession?”

“Well, it depends on what kind!”

“Um,” Tim glances back at Brian and whatever is piloting him, who has stopped in its tracks and is watching the exchange curiously. “Well. Would you.. Happen to know anything about possession by.. Cake?”

In the brief pause that follows, the thing inside Brian appears to give up on its curiosity and steps forward, opening his mouth. Tim frowns at it for a moment, confused, and then she sees the soft glow building in the back of the Drumbot’s throat. “Oh shit.”

Tim & The Toy Soldier, just outside the shooting range, 9 left alive, 1 footless, 1 eaten

Tim grabs the Toy Soldier and pulls it with her as she bolts to the door, just as a jet of flame shoots out of Brian’s mouth.

“Since when can he do that?” she yelps, flattening herself against a wall to avoid being scorched.

“Oh, that is interesting!” TS declares, peeking around the doorframe. Tim nods. “So. To catch you up. There’s some sort of Bifrost related demon-creature loose on the ship, it is currently inside Brian’s body and appears to be controlling him. Fire can’t kill it. Oh, and it ate Mare.”

The Toy Soldier nods, bouncing on the balls of its feet. “So?”

Tim blinks, then shrugs. “We kill it, I suppose. At least get it out of Brian.”

“How do we do that?”

“That’s what I’m asking you!”

Another jet of flame shoots past them, followed by what sounded oddly like a frustrated grunt. The thing still hasn’t actually followed them into the hall, which is a good sign, if somewhat nonsensical. Tim flinches further back instinctively, feeling the heat in her eyes.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confesses. “I don’t know how to get it out without opening Brian up, and he won’t like that. And I can’t even get close to it when it’s breathing fire at us like that.”

“Hmm,” the Toy Soldier hums a thoughtful note. Tim bites her lip, thinking, then lets out a soft laugh. “I’m glad I’m here with you and not Nastya,” she tells TS. “She’d probably suggest kissing it.”

There’s an awkward clank from the shooting range, followed by the sounds of a struggle. Tim glances at TS, who shrugs. “I could kiss it!”

“Could you?” Tim frowns again. “I mean.. I suppose it would just be kissing Brian, wouldn’t it, unless.. D’you think that would work? The kissing?”

“Possibly!” the Toy Soldier sounds positively thrilled about the prospect. “I’m very good at it, you know!”

“I feel like making out with the eldritch blob possessing our crewmate is a bit extreme,” Tim says, peeking around to corner to see what’s happening in the shooting range. What she sees gives her pause.

Brian seems to be fighting back against the thing holding his body hostage. He’s standing in the room where they left him, and every so often he takes a jerky, strained step forward, like he’s having to force himself to step. Although in this case its more likely that he’s trying to stop himself from taking a step. He looks pained, and Tim feels that familiar protective rage rising in her, that feeling of no he’s mine you can’t hurt him. All thoughts of kissing fade away, and she steps out, pistol in hand, and marches back into the shooting range.

“Brian,” she says, and the Drumbot’s head lifts slightly, his eyes still leaking sludgy iridescence. “Bri. Hey. I know you can hear me. Uh. I’m going to do something, and it might be.. A bit uncomfortable for you, but it will hopefully work out in the long run. So do me a favor and… stop fighting it for a moment? Just a moment.”

Brian gives her a wary look, but nods stiffly, clearly using every bit of control he has left. Then he lets go. His face goes blank, and his mouth opens, that glowing heat making another appearance. With a grimace, Tim lifts her pistol and fires.

The bullet flies true, carving straight through the flamethrower mechanism in the back of Brian’s throat and exiting out the back of his head. There’s an inhuman screeching sound, and Brian jerks once as the creature, with its main source of power destroyed, crawls out of the hole left behind.

Brian shudders once, then raises a hand to touch the new hole in his head.

“You alright?” Tim asks, stepping forward. “You.. you?”

“I’m fine,” Brian reassures her. “That could have obliterated my vocal cords, but I’m alright.”

“You’re welcome,” Tim says, tossing her braid back over her shoulder smugly.

“I don’t want to ruin the good mood,” TS says, peeking into the room curiously. “But, where did it go?”

Tim and Brian both freeze, locking terrified eyes. And then the lights go out.

Raphaella, Lyfrassir, Nastya, Ivy: In the dark. 9 left alive, 1 eaten, 1 footless

When the lights go out, someone screams. It’s Lyf. Raphaella shoots them a glare over her shoulder, aware of their ability to see in the dark.

“Sorry,” they whisper. Raphaella frowns. “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know,” they admit. “It feels like the right thing to do.”

“Aurora?” That’s Nastya’s voice, coming from just ahead of them. She sounds worried. “Aurora, please say something. Please tell me if you’re hurt. Aurora?”

“Nas?” Raphaella moves forward, stretching a hand out until she bumps into the engineer’s shoulder. Nastya grabs her hand and gives it a quick squeeze, an indication that she’s here and she’s alright. “Raph, good. Is Lyfrassir still with you?”

“Right here,” Lyf says, still whispering. “Where’s Ivy?”

“Here as well,” the archivist pipes up from the other side of Nastya. “Everyone’s okay, as far as we can tell, Aurora simply.. Stopped.”

“Do you think it got to her?” Lyf asks, shifting nervously behind Raphaella.

“It better not have,” Nastya snaps, her concern for her girlfriend evident in her voice.

Raphaella squeezes Nastya’s shoulder and looks around, cursing the fact that she hasn’t given herself night vision yet. “Ives, can you get ahold of Bri?”

Ivy nods and closes her eyes, typing out a message to Brian in her brain. After a moment, she nods again and announces, “He’s alright. Tim and the Toy Soldier are with him. It took control of his body, but they got it out of him and he’s barely hurt.”

“That’s good!” Raphaella exclaims, giving Nastya’s shoulder another squeeze. “That means Aurora should be fine, once we get it out of her!”

Nastya nods, expression growing determined. “How do we get it out of her?”

“Um, I don’t mean to alarm anyone,” Lyf says, sounding a bit shaky. “But there is something wrapped around my leg.”

They sound afraid, but not panicked or in pain, which causes Raphaella to frown. They don’t even sound urgent. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m- I’m fine, it isn’t hurting me. It’s more… it’s like it’s hugging me.”

“Didn’t you say you made it out of their blood?” Ivy inquires, and Raphaella nods. “Perhaps it recognizes them as one of its own.”

“I don’t like the implications of that,” Lyf says quietly, then gives a determined shake of their head. “Right. Now is not the time for a Bifrost-related panic attack.”

“We can use this,” Raphaella perks up suddenly. “We can use your connection to it, Lyffy, to… something.”

Silence falls as the four of them think on it. And then Ivy speaks up. “I have something from Brian. He met up with Jonny and Ashes, and Jonny has an idea. He just needs us to lure it into something smaller and able to be picked up.”

“Can we do that?” Raphaella glances to Lyf, who nods. “Great. Let’s go.”

Lyfrassir, the kitchen. Same situation.

The kitchen is dark and eerie when Lyf enters, stepping carefully over the seething tendrils rising from the floor, grabbing at their legs. It’s almost possessive, the way it reaches for them, curling around them with its oozing tentacles. They can almost hear it talking to them, in their head, whispering mine mine mine. It terrifies that, but they shove it aside to think about later, once they’ve got this dealt with. Instead they focus on locating something small and liftable to lure the thing into. They find something almost instantly.

As they approach the object they’ve chosen, their Bifrost-enhanced eyes land on something in the middle of the floor, a moving shape.

“Hey, babe,” they say, stepping lightly over the half-formed Marius Von Raum to the counter.

“Hi,” fae groans, conscious enough for at least that. “Whatcha up to?”

“Oh, nothing,” Lyf replies, placing their hands gently on the object they want to bring the creature into, watching it curl up around their arms and moving down the walls toward them, chasing the contact. “And… there we are.”

In a flash, Jonny comes pelting into the room. He grabs Small Brian the electric mixer from Lyf’s hands, and as the lights come on he races down the corridor, and the sound of a door sliding open can be heard.

“What did you do?” Brian demands as the first mate reappears, smugly dusting off his hands.

“Tossed it out the airlock,” Jonny grins.

“Right, ‘cause throwing all our problems out an airlock always works,” Ashes snorts. Jonny frowns. “It does.”

Tim shakes her head. “Oh, you are so lucky I can’t roll my eyes too hard without fucking up my face, D’Ville.”

Brian looks gutted. “You- you threw- Small Brian?”

Jonny freezes. “Oh- oh shit, Bri- I didn’t- Shit shit shit.”

“We’re getting it back,” Brian says, folding his arms and glaring. “As soon as Aurora’s recovering, we’re getting it back.”

“How do we know that that thing will die out there and not just… devour a star system?” Lyf asks. Jonny shrugs. “That’s not our problem.”

“I… fair enough,” Lyf sighs, and casts a last look toward the airlock before going to help Marius up.

Brian & Raphaella: Everyone alive and well

They get everything on the ship back in order quickly. Marius is back, and is being regaled with the tales of what he missed by Lyf and Tim. As soon as Aurora is ready to move again, Brian takes her to pick up Small Brian, and he carries the mixer reverently back to its place in the kitchen. “You’re a hero,” he whispers to it, before kissing the top of it lightly. He then gathers all the ingredients to make another cake, a real one this time.

Just as he’s setting up to get everything made, Nastya comes marching out of the corridor from where she’s been checking up on Aurora, a flamethrower in hand.

“Right,” she says, firing up the weapon. “Where are the fuckers who got my girlfriend possessed?”

Raphaella and Brian glance at each other, knowing this was coming. With a grin, Raphaella runs over and grabs Brian’s hand, pulling him after her down the hall and away from the vengeful engineer.

Nastya curses and follows, and Raphaella lifts off the ground, sweeping Brian into her arms bridal-style to easier carry him. He yelps, and then laughs, twisting to look down and watch Nastya chase after them, looking furious.

Raphaella rounds into a tight corner and sets down, letting Brian back on his feet. They’re both giggling, and Brian buries his face in her shoulder, grinning widely. She kisses his hair and strokes it lightly, running her fingers around the edges of the hole in the back of his neck.

Nastya finds them like that, rounding the corner and hefting her flamethrower with a malicious glimmer in her eyes. “There you are,” she hisses, and this time there’s nowhere to run.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Raphaella murmurs to Brian as she pulls back, and he takes her hand.

“Love you always,” he replies, and she leans over to kiss his cheek. “See you soon.”

And together, they face their fate.

[writer-room]

Siblings: Chapter One

AO3

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Summary: The Bats reflect on how their thoughts about siblings have changed over the years. Some opinions stayed, others didn't.

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

Dick always wondered what it’d be like to have a little brother or sister.

He recalled asking his parents why he didn’t have one. Not accusatory, just curious.

His mother had smiled and said that they had their hands full plenty with Dick, and he was all they needed. His father, while still kind, said that they didn’t really have the time or resources in the circus at the moment to add another child to the family.

Dick was disappointed, but he understood the reasons.

Even still, he’d find himself staring at the kids that watched the acts with awe. Older kids lighty taunted their younger siblings, ruffling their hair and pretending they were too good for it all, and that they were doing their siblings a favor by being there. Kids who nudged their brother or sister to distract and steal the snacks from concession stands, later whispering words that��d make the other gape or giggle. Young children holding their sibling who was of toddler age or younger, pointing towards parts of the acts, their glee growing upon seeing the excitement of their sibling.

Dick hadn’t been lonely growing up in Haly’s Circus, he had his parents and the other people who worked there, from the handlers to the clowns to the tricksters. 

And yet, he still found himself watching the kids who’d come in with one, or even two or three, brothers and sisters, taunting and laughing and sharing their wonder.

A sibling would’ve been nice, he thinks mournfully. It might’ve even been fun.

Ah, well. At least he had the circus.

,

“Hey, hey Dick. Dick. Dick, lookit.”

“If I turn around and I see you about to push Damian off the roof, I’m breaking your helmet.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Dick sighed, turning back from where he was keeping an eye on the streets below. Jason, who’d only been a few feet away, immediately took this moment to seize Tim, who had been too busy looking through his binoculars to care about whatever the two had been doing, and proceed to chuck him off the roof.

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan as Tim’s undignified shriek was cut off by him catching himself on a fire escape below, scrambling to get a good hold on so he didn’t fall the rest of the way.

“What?” Jason huffed. “You said not to push Damian, and I didn’t push Damian.”

“Of course,” Dick replied sarcastically. “My mistake, I’ll be sure to rephrase it as don’t push anyone off the roof.”

“Now that’s just unreasonable,” Jason huffed, hand on his hip as Steph and Cass snickered from the nearby chimney they were perched on. “I can think of plenty of people who deserve to be pushed off roofs. Like Scarow, for example. Bastard made me break my good hand last month and I still need to shoot a bullet in his back for that one.”

“Then don’t push your family off roofs, is that enough for you?” Dick sighed, standing up and peering over the edge of the roof. “You alright down there, Tim?”

“Names,” Damian finally chastised, not once having glanced over to the others from where he was on the corner of the roof, farthest as he could get from them.

“Oh, sure, now you worry.” Tim grumbled from the fire escape, finally pulling himself to his feet and brushing himself off. “Dick, please tell me I have permission to stab out Jason’s eye.”

“You do not.”

“He’d be fine!” Tim complained, snagging a hand on the stairs and instead pulling himself up along the outside of the fire escape instead of walking up the steps like a normal human being. “Harper could probably make him a new functional one in two days if she's in a good mood.”

“I’m not making him a new eye in two days. Maybe two weeks.” Harper informed from the other side of the roof, also ignoring the others as she tinkered with some gadget.

“Get anywhere near me and I’ll cough on you,” Jason threatened, also peering down off the roof. “You have basically no immune system, you’d die in a week. A long, painful death. Poetic cinema, really.”

“If you say it's poetic because you were beaten with a crowbar for two hours, I’m dropkicking you.” Steph warned, eyes narrowed.

“You’re so mean to me,” Jason gasped, placing a hand on his chest as he turned. “What did I ever do to deserve this? I’m nice to you!”

“No, you’re not.” Chorused Dick, Tim, Damian, Steph, and an extra voice through their earpieces.

“Wow, thanks, Babs.” Jason grumbled. “Showing up just to bully me, typical.”

“Names,” Damian warned a second time.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Babs crackled through their earpieces. “You’re not the only one I bully.”

“Everyone please stop harassing Jay,” Dick pleaded, though it came out more as an exhausted sigh.

“Names,” Damian growled a third time, losing his patience.

“I know it's fun,” Dick continued, ignoring him. “But this is supposed to be a scouting mission, and I’d rather he didn’t start taking out petty revenge during patrol.”

“I have no idea why he’s so surprised we get bored when scouting,” Steph mumbled quietly, to which Cass simply shrugged.

“You have no faith in me,” Jason snorted, and Dick could tell he was rolling his eyes under his helmet.

“I have plenty of faith in you,” Dick soothed. “I also, however, know how you are.”

“Don’t worry,” Steph raised a hand. “I already lost faith in you when you tried to kill Tim.”

“Which time?”

“Steph, don’t taunt him. Do it back at the Manor.” Dick lightly scolded.

“How many times do I have to repeat this?” Damian snapped, whirling from his post to glare at the others. “We do not use names on patrol!”

“Doesn’t Jon call you D on patrol?” Harper raised a brow, glancing towards him.

“That is different! He does not use my actual name!”

“Hypocrite,” Jason coughed under his breath.

Tim finally swung back onto the roof, skillfully rolling and dodging when Jason attempted to immediately kick him off again. Tim rolled close to the chimney, quickly pulling out his bo staff and crouching, glaring at Jason. It was reminiscent of two cats in a standoff, arched backs but neither of them making the first strike yet.

“Do not fight,” Cass said calmly. 

“Thank you, C--” Dick hesitated, glancing at Damian for a brief moment. “--Orphan.”

“Fight in Cave,” Cass continued cheerfully. “We have sparring mats for reasons.”

“And I take that back.”

“You wanna hang with the cool kids?” Steph asked, leaning off the chimney to offer her hand.

“Yes. Have I mentioned you’re my favorite person?” Tim grinned, putting his staff away as he took the offered hand and was pulled onto the chimney beside Steph and Cass.

“You could stand to say it more often,” Steph teased.

“Cheaters,” Jason grumbled, relenting that fighting both Steph and Cass to get Tim was a losing battle.

The three were rather squished on the chimney, but none of them seemed to mind. Harper only rolled her eyes and went back to tinkering.

“We really need to bring D--Signal on one of these things.” Dick muttered, shaking his head.

“Because he’s sensible, or because you want him to suffer like the rest of us?” Tim raised a brow.

“Because he deserves the same family bonding time.” Dick said simply.

“Duke and Cullen are next to me listening in on this,” Barbara said through the communicators. “I am here to inform you that Duke is both touched and terrified.”

“The bumblebee was awake and didn’t even bother to join us?” Harper snorted. “Rude.”

“Cullen agrees with you.”

“He better,”

“I’m taking a ten hour nap after this,” Dick complained, sitting back on the edge of the roof, legs dangling in the open air as he leaned back dramatically on his hands. “I deserve it. Self-care and all that.”

“That is the length of a normal amount of sleep.” Damian raised a brow.

“Not in this family, it’s not.”

“Preach!” Tim pumped a fist.

“You don’t count, Tim.” Dick chastised, leaning his head back to look at Tim upside down. “Everyone here remembers to sleep at the latest once every two days. You don’t sleep for five.”

“I’m being harassed,”

“You’re being bullied into a proper sleep schedule.” 

Damian suddenly whacked Dick over the head, startling him with a yelp as Jason hid a snicker. Harper and Cass looked over for a moment before continuing with whatever they had previously been doing.

“Names!” Damian hissed. “Do you all want your identities revealed?”

“Literally nobody is here,” Harper pointed out.

“If Gotham hasn’t found out our identities by now, they never will.” Steph snorted.

“Especially finger-stripes over here.” Tim added, a smug expression on his face.

“A nine-year-old finds out your identity one time and you never hear the end of it.” Dick muttered under his breath before sitting up and proceeding to snatch Damian, who had been previously stalking towards the others, by wrapping an arm around his chest and tugging him closer as the boy squawked.

“You were using a Flying Grayson move, dude.” Tim deadpanned. “You gotta pay the price for being flashy for no other reason than because you can.”

“That’s his entire personality.”

“Why do you all hate me?” Dick whined, holding a squirming Damian close as he gave the boy a noogie. “What did I do to gain such torment?”

“You want the list?” Harper looked up, finally putting away whatever she was tinkering with.

“We alphabetized,” Cass added.

“Wrote on the front and back,” Steph nodded sagely.

“I’m adding three more to the list when we get back,” Damian growled, looking ready to bite Dick if he didn’t stop soon.

“You better be joking about that list,” Dick warned, releasing Damian for his own safety. “Because if I ever find a list of reasons to be mean to me, I will not show mercy.”

“Do you mean you’re gonna attack us physically or emotionally?” Jason inquired.

“Emotionally,”

“You sick bastard.” Steph whispered in horror. “I can’t believe you would use your powers for evil.”

“Does it make it any better if I tell you the list, if it does exist, would probably only exist so that when we notice someone looks like they’re gonna do something stupid, we use the list to remind them of something you did so they take it out on you and not, say, turn all of Gotham into a gang war zone.” Harper said slowly.

“I hate you,” Steph glared. “You mess up one time--”

“You died, Steph!” Tim exclaimed, before getting a batarang chucked at his head that Damian somehow snuck into his utility belt.

“She didn’t even die,” Jason snorted, crossing his arms. “Both of you two had lame fake-out deaths.”

“Why am I the one who’s become the punching bag?” Dick complained, holding Damian back again when he tried to grab the batarang Tim had dodged and threw it again.

“Because you’re actually good at feelings and everyone else is emotionally constipated.” Harper deadpanned.

“And the Ric incident.” Damian added right after, giving up in his thrashing. A shutter passed over the Bats at the mention of the name.

“Aw,” Dick’s face softened, ignoring the Ric comment. “You guys care about my advice?”

“Congrats,” Barbara chuckled slightly. “You’re the therapist brother.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Jason groaned, flopping backwards on the roof. “Now he’s going to be mushy and clingy all week.”

“Lord knows you idiots need it,” Harper huffed as Dick practically glowed.

“I’m sicing him on you later.”

“Jokes on you, he hasn’t found my apartment yet.”

“Yes I have,” Dick raised a hand, turning towards her. “Well, Robin found it, but I still know it.”

Harper stared at him for a few moments, momentarily turning her head to Damian for a moment before going back to Dick, and then turning to Jason.

“You’re a monster,” She whispered, a look of true horror on her face.

“I know,” Jason cackled gleefully.

“None of you are leaving the Manor when we get back.” Dick said matter-of-factly, pointing a finger to his siblings. “We’re gonna bond, and you’re going to like it.”

“We’re already bonding right now!” Damian protested.

“You’ll have to kill me first.” Steph hissed, shying behind Cass.

“Bold of you to assume you can keep me confined to the Manor.” Tim huffed in offence. “Orphan, I’ll stash you in one of my safe houses if you promise to be my bodyguard.”

“Deal,”

“You guys are so dramatic--”

“Hey, guys? Crazed pyromaniac with flamethrowers to the north.”

The group immediately dropped whatever they had been doing, heads snapping up towards the direction Barbara had tiredly informed them of the attack.

It was only a few moments before the sight of flames peaked over one of the buildings, dying out almost immediately. Shouts and rumbles were steadily growing in volume, especially the cackling of Firefly, likely revving up whatever weapon he’d acquired this time.

“Fantastic, can’t even keep watch with you morons.” Damian growled.

“Oh you are not the only one trying to work here!” Tim snapped. “Orphan, for example, is doing a wonderful--where’d she go?”

He and Steph looked around rapidly, their sister suddenly missing from the chimney. How they hadn’t noticed she’d left their crowded space was a mystery that’d likely never be solved.

“Over there,” Jason said boredly, upholstering a gun and pointing across the rooftops.

The outline of Cass’s body could be seen sprinting across the roofs towards where the fire had been spotted, leaping with reckless abandon.

“Life lesson for the rest of you,” Harper hummed, getting to her feet. “Be like Cass.”

“Stop using real names!” Damian barked.

“Last one there is on cleanup duty!” Steph hollered, shoving Tim and taking off in the same movement.

“Asshole!” Tim yelled as Jason, Harper and Damian all bolted after her without a moment's hesitation. 

Dick laughed, just getting to his feet as Tim stumbled up and after the others, swearing obscenities.

He quickly ran after his siblings, though he strayed a little further back, nobody paid attention to who showed up last anyway, his eyes darting from each of his siblings. Someone had to make sure they didn’t face-plant off a roof.

They shouted over each other as they descended down to take out Firefly. The guy had really picked a bad night to start causing trouble. It’d be over in no-time.

Even still, Dick paused on the roofs, scanning the streets below as the others ran to and fro, yelling over each other as Barbara switched between the coms to talk to them. It was a chaotic mess and Dick found himself grinning at it all.

His siblings were a hot mess, and it was amazing.

[mummybear]

This Thing Between US

Words: 4479

Warnings: Swearing, Dirty Talk, Smut, Wall/Door Sex, Protective Jensen, Oral (Male Receiving), Fluff. Think that’s it :) 

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: After getting a much needed night off from work and finally getting a date your best friend doesn’t agree with you about going, is Jensen right? Is the date doomed or are you about to spend the night with Mr Right?

A/N: This is my submission to @stiles-o-dylan24‘s challenge for passing 1K followers! My Prompt Was - If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to seduce me. A massive congratulations Ellie!! So beyond pleased for you babe, glad that we’ve been friends for as long as we have. You’re the sweetest person ever and you deserve every single follower and so many more! Big hugs babe, hope you enjoy this! :) 

A big thank you to the lovely @ne-gans for reading it over for me too 😘💖

This is also another submission to my @spndeanbingo, for the square (Best Friends)

(This is an AU where Jensen isn’t married and never was. This is a work of fanfiction and should be treated as such, thank you :) )

Ko-Fi HERE :)

You were so excited, you’d finally managed to get some time off work to have a much needed date night. The trouble was that you were nervous as hell, the date you were going on was with a guy you’d met online last week. Despite your best friend and roommate doing his best to put you off of the idea, you were determined to go ahead with your plans. You’d spent the entire day at work distracted thinking about it. 

Jensen’s opinion was always extremely important to you, him not agreeing with your decision must've been playing on your mind more than you’d first realised. As much as you trusted and respected Jensen’s opinion; and you did. You just couldn’t cancel these plans, you’d had them for weeks and you had been really looking forward to them. Plus that would hardly be fair on the guy you were meeting, Tim had seemed like a nice enough guy from what you could gather during your chats.

Your bath is finally how you like it, the steam filling the cool room and you quickly pull off your clothes and toss them into the hamper, before climbing into the tub, groaning in pleasure when your aching body makes contact with the water, it’s like your muscles instantly relax.��

You take your time in the bath, enjoying a little time to yourself to relax. By the time you’re almost finished in the bath, the bathroom door suddenly opens and the intrusion makes you jump. Your hand resting over your heart when Jensen steps into the steam filled room, you allow yourself to relax slightly. Seemingly in his own world, until he stops mid step and locks eyes with you. He immediately covers his eyes with his hand, “s-shit Y/N, I’m sorry!” he half stutters and you can see the blush creeping across his skin. 

“My fault, I should've locked the door.” You reply as you climb out of the bath and wrap your towel around yourself. 

“You can look now,” you giggle a little nervously, noticing the way he’d stiffened when you climbed out. You can’t understand this, he’s never been this nervous around you before.

He hesitantly uncovers his eyes and you give him a small smile when he finally looks at you. The steam in the room suddenly feels like it’s surrounding you, like the air is stuck in your throat. 

“I should… uh. I should go get ready,” you manage to croak out around the lump in your throat.

You don’t give him time to answer, gripping your towel tightly, you practically run from the bathroom to your bedroom, where you slam the door closed and fall back against it, your heart beating wildly in your chest. 

“What the hell was that!?” You demand of yourself out loud. 

Nothing had ever happened between you and Jensen and you’d never intended anything to happen. He was by far one of the hottest men you’d ever known, sure there had been the odd sex dreams you’d had about him. But you didn’t understand what was happening now, he was your best friend and that had been all you’d ever seen him as. Maybe it was just the heat in the bathroom and the hot bath messing with you. That had to be the reason, right?

You decided not to think about it, you didn’t want some kind of fluke or whatever it had been to ruin your night. Taking a deep breath you turn your attention to your outfit hanging on your door, it was a simple black dress with cuffed sleeves and a split up the side, which reached your mid thigh. Your underwear was a sexy black lace set, with white woven in between parts of the fabric, you’d purchased it especially for tonight. 

You did your makeup, wearing a little more than usual and paired it with your red lipstick. You didn’t do too much with your hair, deciding to leave the natural wave you already had. Now that you’re dressed and ready to go, you feel a little more confident, stepping into your heeled shoes. You smile at your reflection as you check yourself over in the mirror. 

When you walk out into the living room, you find Jensen sitting on the couch, clearly he’d had a shower right after you’d left. His hair is still wet and all over the place and he’s shirtless, only his light grey sweatpants cling low on his lean hips. You tried not to notice the few drops of water that rolled down his thick neck. Clearing your throat, you lick your extremely dry lips and focus on his face, where he quickly closes his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

“You look… just wow, fuck Y/N.” Jensen rasps, standing in front of you.

You feel yourself blushing and meet his eyes once more, and you can’t help but wonder were they always that green? “Yeah? Thanks Jay. I’m really nervous,” 

“He’s the one who should be nervous, sweetheart, trust me. You don’t have a fuckin’ thing to worry about. You call me if he fucks with you and I’ll kick his ass.” He winks at you and you watch as he chews on his bottom lip and his eyes drop, shamelessly checking you out, before he seems to remember himself and his eyes snap back to your face. 

“So uh, have a good night. Call me if you need a lift home or whatever.” He dismisses, but there’s something about the way he’d said that, that just doesn’t sit right with you.

You decide it’s best not to mention it though, “yeah sure, thanks.” You reply, voice a little clipped and you quickly leave your apartment without looking back.

What the hell is going on between the two of you today? This morning was like any other morning now suddenly, there’s like this weird thing between you and you just can’t explain it.

-

You send a text to Tim and tell him that you’ve just arrived at the restaurant, climbing out of the taxi, you pay the driver, before heading inside and taking a seat at the bar. This place is seriously expensive, so you just order a drink while you wait. You check your phone and still no reply from Tim. 

By the time you check your phone again, your second drink is gone and you’re beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. When you turn back to the bar you find someone is sitting beside you.

“It looks like you’ve been stood up, baby girl.” A deep voice states, clearly he’d been watching you, which is seriously creepy, honestly it takes everything you have not to roll your eyes and you just sigh loudly. 

Turning to look at the stranger, slicked back black hair and brown eyes, moderately good looking but he also looks like a total sleazebag. 

“Not that it’s anything to do with you, but no I haven’t, I’m actually waiting for my boyfriend to finish work.” You snap back defensively, thanking the bartender when he places another drink in front of you.

“You sure about that? You’ve been lookin’ at your phone awfully regular.” He chuckles as you do it again, this time you go through your contacts, in search of the only man who would make you feel safe in this situation.

Before you can press the call button the sleazebags hand lands on your thigh, the feel of his skin against yours makes you feel sick.

“You better move your hand before I shove it up your ass,” you all but growl, slamming your empty glass back on the counter and attracting the bartender's attention.

The guy is undeterred as he leans in closer, the smell of him makes your stomach roll with nausea.

“Come on baby, I can show you a real good time. Fortunately for you, I like ‘em feisty.” He whispers and his cracked lips ghost your ear and you quickly pull away. Before you can tell him to go fuck himself, the bartender is back with another drink for you and the sleaze excuses himself.

“Be right back darlin’ don’t you go anywhere.” 

The second his ass leaves the stool you dial the number, your feet bouncing on the wooden slat beneath your seat.

“Hello sweetheart? You miss me already?” Jensen slurs into the phone and you want to headbutt the bartop. He cannot be drunk right now!

“Look, the guy didn’t show Jay. But I’m getting really freaked out by this creep, he won’t take no for an answer.” You reply quickly, worried about getting a taxi alone in case he tries to follow you.

“Stay right there. I’ll be five minutes.” He responds quickly, all humour gone from his voice. 

Before you can mention the fact that he’s drunk, the line goes dead. You really hope he doesn’t do anything stupid, but at the same time you’re just glad he’s coming. You don’t have time to think about it too much, before you spot Mr creep returning. 

You quickly finish the drink you have left on the bar, feeling that familiar burn in your chest. 

“Did you miss me?”

God that had sounded so much better when Jensen had asked. 

“Yeah, like a fucking hole in the head. Could you leave me alone now. My boyfriend is on his way, he’s the jealous protective type.” You lie easily, although that’s not a complete lie. Jensen is fiercely protective of you, but that was just how he was with his friends, it was one of the many qualities you loved about him. 

“Why don’t I keep you company until he gets here,” the guy smirks, leaning across the bar on his elbow so his face is inches from your own, clearly he still doesn’t believe you.

When you jump back a little too fast, your stool rocks and you almost fall off, but a strong body behind you stops you. You recognise the way he smells immediately and let out a sigh of relief when those strong arms wrap around your body.

“Hey baby, sorry I’m late. I know I said I'd be here sooner.” His lips press against the side of your neck and you feel an unexpected shiver shoot up your spine. 

Your hands drop to Jensen’s and you lean back into his embrace.

“Don’t worry babe, I’m just glad you’re here now.” You tell him honestly, turning back to the douche across from you, who still hadn’t moved.

“Was this dick bothering you?” Jensen growls against your skin and this time you’re sure that you visibly shiver, biting your lip to stop the noise bubbling in your throat, your hands tighten over his. 

The guy looks between you and Jensen and swallows hard.

“Sorry man, guess I misread something. I didn’t realise she was spoken for.” The guy spits out, quickly finishing his drink and you scoff.

“Well that’s bullshit. You should probably leave now.” Jensen suggests, his voice taking on a dangerous edge that you’d never heard before and it affects you more than you might have previously admitted. 

He takes the seat beside you and wraps his arms around your waist, fingers just slightly digging into your stomach. The sleazebag can’t get off of the stool quick enough, and you can’t help but laugh watching him stumble out of the door.

“You are seriously the best friend in the world.” You tell him relieved, turning to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Thank you Jay, I dunno what I would’ve done without you tonight,” 

When you pull back you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, watching the blush appear almost immediately.

“S’fine Y/N, anytime.” He mutters quietly, scratching at the back of his neck and smiling awkwardly. “Are you hungry? I’m guessing you didn’t have time to eat?” 

You look at him and shrug, a slight smile pulling at your lips.

“Honestly? I kinda just wanna get drunk with my best friend, not really that hungry anymore.” 

-

An hour later you and Jensen are in a shadowed corner booth, the bottle of liquor that sits between you is almost empty. You lean in closer to him, brushing away some fluff from his shirt. “So, did you dress up just for me?” you ask with a grin.

Jensen took a deep breath and met your eyes, your heart suddenly felt like it was trapped in your throat.

“So what if I had, is that a problem?” he questioned gruffly, resting his hand on your thigh, through the split in your dress. 

You suck in a breath at the contact, but the alcohol gives you the boost you need to push away your nerves. Thinking back to how he'd been acting all day, you wonder, what’s the worst that could happen if you gave into what you were feeling?

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to seduce me, Mr Ackles.” You practically purr, scooting impossibly close, so that you were pressed up against each other.

“Is it working?” Jensen asks with a smirk, fingers curling around the top of your thigh and digging into your skin. You have to bite into your lip to stop yourself from making a noise, very cautious of the people sitting less than a foot behind the two of you. 

“What if it is? What’re you gonna do about it?” Your reply is more breathy than you would’ve liked but you go with it, your hand dropping to his on your thigh and squeezing. 

Clearly the alcohol was giving him a confidence boost, when he leans in close and presses those plump lips to your ear, you’re completely overwhelmed by him. 

“You wanna go home and I can show you, baby girl?” He asks huskily, this time you can’t hold back the whimper when his hand moves further up your thigh.

Taking a breath, you swallow hard, feeling his lips press against the side of your neck, just below your ear.

“This is a bad idea, isn’t it?” You ask, feeling a little lightheaded with him being so close and his lips pause on your skin.  

Jensen pulls back so he’s looking at you in the eyes. 

“I don’t think so, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it? I know I have.” 

“I guess maybe, I’ve dreamt about certain things happening. But I’ve tried not to let myself consider it, you’re my best friend Jay, I don’t wanna lose you.” You tell him honestly, blushing as you look down at your knees.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Jensen all but whispers, cupping your cheek in his big hand. He always made you feel so small in the best way. He tilts your face until you’re looking in his eyes again,  “Trust me, I have no intention of going anywhere. No matter what happens tonight. You wanna just go home and forget about this then it’s up to you, Y/N. No pressure.” There’s a pause as he leans in a little closer, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment.

“But if you want me to take you home and show you what you do to me, how fucking hard you make me-” You cut him off with those words, resting your hand over the obvious and large bulge in his jeans. 

You swallow thickly at the implication as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, he’s so close and you’re out of reasons as to why this is a bad idea.

“Show me Jay,” you whisper against his lips.

His hold on your cheek is a little firmer as he presses his plump lips to yours, it’s like all of the air has been ripped from your lungs as your lips move against his effortlessly. The hand holding your cheek slips around to the back of your head and he grips your hair gently and tugs, deepening the kiss. You push your hands into his hair in an attempt to pull him closer, messing it up the way you like it. His tongue slips between your lips followed by a deep groan, the kiss quickly becomes a mess of tongues and teeth, until you’re forced to pull back for air.

Nervous excitement is bubbling under your skin as you wipe your red lipstick from his kiss-swollen lips with your thumb. You pull your dress over Jensen’s hand to hide it, which only gives him more confidence to move it higher, so his thumb is practically brushing over your damp panties.

You’re interrupted when a waiter turns up at your table and clears his throat, “Excuse me sir, sorry to interrupt but your transportation has arrived.” 

“Thank you, this should cover our tab.” Jensen smiles, handing over some cash. The waiter nods and gives his thanks. 

“Oh sir, I like it, it suits you.” You giggle as you both get out of the booth, Jensen scoffs but he’s smiling as he wraps his arm around your waist and you head out to the front of the Restaurant. 

You climb into the back of the taxi, while Jensen gives the guy your address before joining you in the back.

“How’re you doin’?” Jensen asks as the car starts moving, pulling one of your legs over his knee.

You scootch down the seat a little to give him more room to move his hand, “I’m good. Thank you for tonight, I had a great time.” 

Jensen bites his lip as his hand moves between your legs and pushes your dress higher, until he can reach the apex of your thighs, rubbing back and forth over the front of your increasingly wet panties. 

“It’s not over yet,” he smirks, his breath ghosting over your lips. You whimper as he pushes your panties to the side and his fingers slide teasingly through your slick.

“Fuck you’re so wet baby girl.” Jensen groans deeply, resting his forehead against yours as he eases two thick fingers inside you. 

You clench your teeth to stop from moaning, luckily the driver has the music on, so at least your heavy breathing is covered. You’re both lost in your own world as you look into his eyes, feeling yourself clenching around his fingers. There’s a knock on the partition and Jensen gives you a wink before pulling his hand free, “oh come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.” You grumble, voice thick with irritation, as he sucks those fingers between his lips and moans around them. You don’t know whether you want to kick him or kiss him.

Despite your protest Jensen pays the taxi and follows behind you once it’s driven away. When you finally manage to get the keys out of your bag, Jensen presses up behind you, moving your hair over one shoulder. You shiver as his lips move slowly over your neck, he takes the keys from you as your head falls back against his chest and he makes quick work of unlocking the door. 

The two of you stumble inside, giggling like a pair of teenagers, you barely have time to think before Jensen is backing you up against the same door you’d just closed.

“You sure you still wanna do this?” he questions as his fingers ghost over the zipper of your dress.

“Of course I am, I wanna know what your filthy brain has been coming up with.” You smirk confidently, the alcohol giving you the help you need. You grip both sides of his shirt and tug hard, sending buttons flying across the room. You can already see the way his eyes have darkened as he looks down at you.

“So, your bedroom or mine, sir?” 

Jensen starts pulling the zip down slowly, keeping his darkened green eyes focused on you, the anticipation of what’s to come has your heart thudding wildly in your chest. He’s being so gentle and slow, you’re waiting for what you know is to come, you’ve heard the way he’s made girls scream over the years and the thought has your stomach in knots.  

You swallow hard as he pulls his ruined shirt from his body and unbuckles his belt, tugging off his jeans and boxers, kicking them to one side. You can’t take your eyes off of him, unable to stop yourself from shamelessly checking him out, he’s fucking flawless, just as you’d expected. He looks just like you thought he would, but his cock is so much bigger than you would have dreamed. His voice soon pulls you from your ogling. 

“Why bother going upstairs? I could just fuck you right here, against this door.” Jensen muses with that deadly smirk as he lets the dress slip from your body and pool at your feet, his voice has taken that tone again which makes your entire body feel like it’s on fire.

You smile back, pushing your panties down and stepping out of them and your dress, you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Guess you’d better show me what you wanna do to me, huh Sir?” 

“You’re really enjoying calling me that, ain’t you sweetheart?” Jensen smirks, reaching down to pick you up. You giggle as you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling his hardness crushed between the two of you. Jensen lifts you just enough so that the head of his cock is pressing against your entrance, “this what you want baby?” he teases, letting the thick head of his cock push inside you. 

Your fingers push into his hair and you grip tightly, leaning your forehead against his. 

“Please Jay, Please. Fuck me.” You beg breathlessly against his parted lips. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to because as soon as the words pass your lips he sinks into you with one thrust. 

“Oh God, Jensen, fuck.” You gasp out, dropping your head back against the door as your hands grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his soft skin. 

Jensen stills inside you with a groan, fingers digging into your ass cheeks. You keep your eyes on his as you roll your hips against him. He’s so much thicker than you’d realised, stretching you out so much, it almost feels like he could break you at any moment if he wanted to. Your pussy hasn’t stopped clenching and fluttering around him. You can feel his cock already hitting spots nobody had ever managed to reach before. 

“So fuckin’ tight and wet for me baby girl. You want me to move? Make you come all over my cock?” 

His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, “yes, move please. I need you so bad, wanna feel you.” You whine loudly, fully aware of just how desperate you sound, but you’ve never cared less about anything.

Jensen pulls out almost all the way, then that fucker smirks, before he snaps his hips forward, pulling a scream from your throat that makes him growl.

“Fuck. That’s my girl.” Jensen grunts before repeating his actions, your head makes a dull thud as it falls back against the door. The grooves of the door digging into your back as he picks up a hard and fast pace that has you speechless.

“Wanted to fuck you so bad in that bar, you felt so fucking soft, looked so sexy in that tight little dress.” 

“I wish you had,” you moan loudly, feeling his cock pulse inside you and your walls flutter around him. You’re so close to falling over that edge.

“Who knew you were such a dirty little girl, we’re gonna have so much fun together.” He half laughs, half groans into your neck.  

“Fuck Jay, I’m gonna come.” You whimper loudly, feeling your entire body beginning to stiffen around him.

Jensen grabs your leg and hooks it in the crook of his elbow, you cry out at the new angle, the tip of his cock is repeatedly slamming into your sweet spot. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as your eyes start to roll back.

“So fuckin’ sexy baby girl. Come on, you can do it. Want you to paint my fuckin’ cock white.”

That’s all you need to push you over the edge, your orgasm smashes into you hard, leaving you extremely glad that Jensen is holding you up against the door.

You can feel Jensen’s jaw repeatedly tensing against your shoulder as he swears under his breath. You feel his hips start to stutter and purposefully clench around him, pulling those perfect noises from his lips.

You press your lips against his ear and groan when his fingers dig tighter into your ass cheeks.

“Want you to come in my mouth, wanna lick you clean.” You all but purr, clinging to his biceps as he pauses and pulls back to meet your gaze.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m close, you want it baby?” 

You feel your pussy clench around him at the mere idea of it and nod enthusiastically with your bottom lip between your teeth.

Jensen gently pulls his cock free of your pussy and lowers you onto your shaking legs. You smirk up at him as you drop to your knees at his feet. You lick your lips as he fists his cock and starts to pump it in his fist, he holds himself up against the door with his free hand. His eyes are focused on your face as your lips part and you lick them hungrily, leaning up a little higher you wrap your lips around the tip of his perfect cock, tongue flicking back and forth over the slit.

“Shit sweetheart, just like that.” He groans loudly, gently thrusting his hips deeper into your mouth, you moan around him tasting yourself on his cock is better than you could’ve imagined. His hand falls away and moves to grip the back of your head as you take every inch you can manage.

“That’s it baby girl, fuck Y/N. I’m gonna-” He’s cut off when a deep groan fills the room and his come shoots into the back of your throat.

You do your best to swallow every precious bit of it, licking along his shaft until you’re happy you got all of it. He practically drags you to your feet when you pull away and roughly presses his lips against yours.

You squeal as he suddenly throws you over his shoulder and smacks your ass.

“Jay! What the hell?!” You question still half laughing.

You can almost hear the grin in his voice as he makes his way towards the stairs, “I ain’t done with you yet baby girl, not after that! I didn’t even get to return the favour yet.”

You watch his tight ass move as he walks up the stairs with you in tow, realising you wouldn’t want to get out of this even if you could.

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[itsmeevie01]

A Moment in Time- Ch 14

MASTERPOST

OH HI THERE LOOK AT THAT IT'S ALREADY JUNE. HOW COULD THAT HAVE HAPPENED???

yes, I know. I disappeared off the face of the earth. forgive me?

important housekeeping- Orthrus is the name of Cerbrus' brother from Greek Mythology. Asclepius is a snake. and doctor dude. so I pulled on that a lil. ok, on with the chapter!

Chloé had been surprised to see the text from Marinette after her friend had gone off to meet an obscure friend earlier that day. Yet, there, blinking on her phone, was a text from her best friend there was only one word, but it was enough. There, blinking up at her was the word TONIGHT. Marinette really wanted to take Gabriel Agreste down on a school night, right before finals week.

Of course she did.

Fuck.

With one last, woeful glance at her open notes, Chloé called her transformation and flew to the Eiffel tower.

When she got there, the blonde was met with both Apate and Lady Tyche.

There, sitting at their feet, was Asclepius. The snake was leaning back, taking in the night air. His dark eyes glittered behind his mask, and the lyre at his side was almost unnoticeable in the darkness. As Princess Meli landed, Apate and Tyche sent her smiles, while Asclepius nodded. Meli gave a weak smile in response.

“Hey A, did you have to choose right before finals? I have to study!” Apate snorted at her best friend’s indignation.

“Sorry, Meli. I just…we can’t let this flaming bastard ruin our lives anymore. He tried to Akumatize me tonight, and I won’t have it.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Apate winced before turning to face her friend.

“I almost got akumatized. It didn’t go well. I am going to take down Hawkmoth one way or another. It is up to you if you want to join me. It has to be now before he can do any more damage. I for one don’t want to spend one more minute in a city where Hawkmoth rules our lives.” As the two newer heroes listened, the sound of someone landing behind them could be heard.

The group turned to find another miraculous wielder there, his long brown hair held back in a low ponytail, and the dark brown suit barely noticeable against the night sky. “ah, good Orthrus, you made it!” the teen nodded to the vigilante, before giving his fellow miraculous wielders a dramatic bow.

“omg. Really? That’s why you wanted me to dye your hair!” Princess Meli’s squeal was met with a dead-eyed stare by her best friend.

“well, why else, but to be completely unrecognizable.” The familiar voice that drawled from the dog vigilante’s mouth had the others quickly connecting the dots and laughing in recognition of Adrien Agreste, now named Orthrus, the vigilante of Loyalty. He strode over, his steps near silent on the tower beam. “now, what are we going to do about my father, Apate? Lady Tyche?” the two smiled at him, before turning back to the group.

“This is a stealth operation. As you all know, the Moth Miracle stone is one of the more flexible jewels. This means that the only identifying part about it is that it will glow when a strong emotion emerges. This means that we will be splitting up into two groups.” Here, Apate paused. Tyche was obviously well informed about what the operation was going to entail. Meli, while not in the loop, was more familiar with their plans and was obviously connecting the dots. The newest two were looking back and forth in confusion. “Meli, you and Tyche will be pulling the public's attention to yourselves. While you two pretend to fight an Akuma, courtesy of Bunnix, the rest of us will be slipping into the Agreste Mansion. Asclepius, you will be on Mayora duty. Keep her contained and be prepared to use your power, remember, it can only go back 15 minutes. Orthrus and I will try to corner Hawkmoth while he is distracted. It is imperative that Meli and Tyche keep the battle going against Bunnix until we are sure that Hawkmoth and Mayora are out of commission.” Tyche nodded.

“Meli and I will keep people distracted, but we need you to be fast, Apate. That means,” she turned to Orthrus and Asclepius, “you two need to get your plan straightened out before you enter the Agreste mansion. If there is anything that goes wrong you inform Apate immediately. Keep your com lines open. I know that you haven’t had as much practice, but Apate has been doing this for years. Rely on her and watch her back. Most importantly though, everyone goes in, everyone goes out. No one is left behind. And kick Hawkmoth’s ass.” The newer miraculous holders were listening with wider and wider eyes as Lady Tyche laid out her instructions. Apate may be the one with the (little known) reputation of being blunt and violent, but Lady Tyche was obviously used to giving instructions and being obeyed, immediately. As the weight of the situation made itself truly known to the newer section of the team, Bunnix alighted on the tower beam with a wild grin.

“ready when you are, Lady. We should be able to mess around for a few hours before things have to get serious.” Here, Bunnix turned her gaze on Apate. “if you need anything, give a shout.” Apate nodded solemnly at her friend, before turning to her team.

“We move now. once we get in position, Tyche and Bunnix will start the battle.” With one last backward glance, Apate led her team off to the lair of Hawkmoth.

“how long do you think this will take, A?”

“Ty, I wish I could give you an answer. Right now I really just want to get this done so I can sleep.”

“A, as much as I agree with that statement, please don’t rush.”

“I’ll be careful, Ty. I always am.”

“Bullshit.”

“rude.”

“but true.”

“I mean…maybe.” A pause, “ok Tyche, we’re in position in Adrien’s room. Whenever you’re ready.”

“see you on the other side, Apate.”

“Stay safe.”

“you too.”

Tim was expecting a quiet night, curled up on his bed with a book Dick had asked him to read ages ago when the screaming started. He bolted up and flung open his door. With shaking fingers, the teen CEO darted across the great room of the hotel room. As he shoved the balcony doors open, Tim’s eyes widened. There, on the street, were two heroes. They were…flying. They were actually flying? He thought Marinette had given him a basic rundown of the situation here in Paris, but as he watched the two flying girls, Tim Drake knew in his gut that tonight was going to get a lot worse before it got better for them. Edging back along the wall of the balcony, the out of costume vigilante watched with wide eyes as the heroes darted in and out of the fog that was at the center of the screaming.

Apate really hated Gabriel Agreste. As she followed Orthrus through the halls of the manor, Asclepius stayed at her back. When they arrived at the library, Orthrus guided Asclepius to the hidden window that would give him a vantage point t look down on the upcoming battle. “wait.” As Apate halted the group's movement, the two others turned to look at her. “Asclepius, once you see Mayora enter the grotto, only then do you start your entry.” He looked at her in confusion. With a small smile, Apate gestured to the window. “this is your entry point. When you find Mayora, you enter here. Keep her contained, and keep her distracted. Orthrus and I will handle the rest.” When the Snake holder had nodded, Apate smiled. “this is it, I know that you both have worked hard recently to take on these roles. That said, we proceed with the utmost caution. Keep your coms in and keep them on. I want constant communication. I know that this is the long game. We are all in. now we need to make sure that we all leave. Understood?”

“understood.”

“Copy”

“good. Now, we enter silence now. Orthrus and I are going to get in position, Asclepius be careful. Now is not the time to show our hand.”

Lady Tyche hadn’t had this much fun in years. As Bunnix sat in the middle of the column of fog rolling down Parisian streets, Lady Luck giggled slightly at Princess Meli’s look of shock. The rabbit holder had placed fog machines in the vicinity of the Grande Paris Hotel. With their careful plotting, Bunnix and Tyche had made sure that the square would be filled with synthetic fog. As it spread, the few pedestrians on Paris’ streets started to scream. The midnight air took on the feeling that only ever came when there was an Akuma attack. With a shout of glee, Bunnix continued to spin herself around on her motorbike. “are we going to attack?” Meli’s question broke Tyche out her musings. It wasn’t uncommon for the hero to stay back and observe the Akumas, and she had been taking advantage of that up till that point. With a sigh, Tyche tore her gaze away from the fog.

“I guess we have to, don’t we?” Meli giggled at her friend’s reluctance."

“only if you want this to work.” Tyche snorted at the Bee’s sarcasm.

“go ahead and ‘sneak’ over to the other end of the square. Once you get there, I’ll dive in and do a few spins with Bunnix. When I come flying out, wait a few seconds and then go into the exact center. Knowing Bun, that’s exactly where she’ll be.” Meli nodded in understanding and started to make her way across the square.

As Lady Tyche watched the other blonde slip away, she took a deep breath. They needed to stretch this out for as long as they could. Apate needed as much time as she could buy.

Apate and Orthrus were settled against a shadowed part of the wall in the grotto when Gabriel Agreste strode in. the blonde man was clutching at this shirt where he had a purple jewel pined there. “is that?” Orthrus’ question mirrored her own thoughts.

“I…I think so.” Tensing slightly, Apate settled further into her perch. Asclepius’ voice came quietly in her ear.

“Apate, you need to take the stone now. once he is Hawkmoth, Gabriel will have a sword. We don’t want to do more damage than necessary.”

“Ascle-“

“Apate you have to trust me. Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“There is no other way, this has to happen before i can take out Mayora.” Apate sucked in a sharp breath.

“how many times?”

“so far? six. It’s about to be seven if you don’t get a move on. Your window is closing.” Before Asclepius had finished his sentence, Apate has risen.

As she lept to one of the beams above the grotto, Orthrus slunk across the ground until he was behind Gabriel. As Apate started her descent towards the villain, Orthrus sprung up, and incapacitated him. in one single move, Apate, Guardian of the Miracle Box, had reclaimed the Butterfly stone of Transmission.

In her ear a moment later, Apate could hear the sounds of Mayora being taken down by Asclepius.

Lady Tyche and Princess Meli were in their fifth rotation through Bunnix’s merry fog funhouse when Apate’s voice cut through their line. “we have reclaimed both miraculous, and the police have been called. It’s finished. Hawkmoth is gone.”

The three heroes let up a cheer and set about putting the square to rights. Once Bunnix had shut off the fog machines, Lady Tyche looked around and smiled. Lifting into the air, Lady Luck threw her yoyo up and called “Miraculous!” as the Ladybugs flew through the night, things started to turn themselves back to what they had been a mere hour ago. When the square had returned to normal, the two heroes took off into the air. It was time to celebrate. Hawkmoth had been defeated at last.

Poor Tim! i wonder what the poor boy thought of THAT show? (also, i keep imagining Alix dressed in her bunnix suit speeding off into the night with that fog machine going... i bet she had a blast!)

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