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artxyra · 5 years ago

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Prom Proposal

So @enchantingdefendoreagle requested, “I have a request I am hoping for a Daminette fanfic. Where since Prom is canceled that the Waynes have offered to host Gotham Academy Prom because Gotham Academy is under reconstruction or something. Damian has seen Marinette for a while having a crush on her but never saying anything. “

Note: I wanted to try pinning Damian and a lot of things happened... so I hope you enjoy.

Normally, Damian would never make such a big deal over a school event cancellation. He would shrug it off as if it was beneath him. Well, that was the case until the Joker decided to turn Gotham Academy’s gym into a playground until Batman and Robin removed him from the premise. However, there was an absolute reason as to why this event had affected him so much. For a while now, Damian was actually looking forward to the annual prom dance. He was actually going to participate in said event, but the one person he was trying to ask to be date—they haven’t really spoken to one another outside of class assignments.

“Father I demand that we host prom.” Damian urges barging into his father’s office the second the school email about prom’s cancellation went to the students. What Damian didn’t account for was Grayson being inside the office as well.

“Hold, Little D. Why would you of all people even want to B to host prom? You didn’t go last year so why the sudden change.” Dick wonders at his little brother. So yeah, Damian didn’t go his junior year but once again this year is different.

With Damian being silent for a moment was all it took for Dick to realize something, “Is it for a girl…a boy maybe?”

“Tt. I have my reasons.” Damian counters crossing his arms and turning his attention away from his brother to his father, who appears to be done with everything going on.

“Damian, do you really think that having the manor full of teens is a good idea?” Bruce asks concern about his son’s mental health, but he too was wondering why the sudden change in attitude for one of many iconic moments in a teenager’s life.

“There is no reason father,” Damian says lying through his teeth. There was a reason, but he doesn’t want his family to find out about said reason.

Dick nor Bruce seemed convinced, but a simple quick look to one another, they knew getting an answer out of eighteen-year-old would be a battle they didn’t want to have.

“I’ll consider it.” Bruce states practically agreeing to his son plans to have prom at the Manor just like any other Wayne Gala he has hosted before. The only difference would be teens instead of adults.

It only took Bruce Wayne three days to send an email to the academy, offering to host prom night at Wayne Manor. The headmistress took that offer immediately know that there will be backlash for not accepting such a proposal. Two days after that, the school sends out emails informing the students that prom will be hosted in two months having it right on schedule. Those who order prom tickets will receive further information closer to the date.

After getting his father on board with the thought, Damian was internally excited, now just to put his plan into action. That plan over two months failed at least five different times.

The first attempt, in the classroom right after class was finished. He knows that she’ll usually stay in the class until everyone is out. Well, that didn’t happen. She was the first person out, running like her depended on it.

The second attempt was at the courtyard, a couple of days after the first attempt. Damian knew (well he asked Jon) that she had a tendency to sketch under the largest tree during the evening. He also knew that they shared the same independent study times due to having worked on projects together. Just as he was about to ask her, another student walked up to her. The bluenette, from afar, seemed to be interested in the conversation. Damian ended up walking away hoping to try again later.

The third attempt was almost a success. He was actually talking to her, but the words would not come out the way he had hoped. This just added to his stoic personality that she was used to. Then right before he finally mustered up the confidence, a girl with pigtails interrupted them implying that she only wanted to talk to Damian. Apparently, pigtail girl wanted to ask Damian to prom and he of course denied the proposal.

“You need, help?” Jon asks on the day before Damian could attempt his fourth go.

“Tt. I rather suffer.”

Jon raises an eyebrow, “Uh-huh. She’s in the art room.” Jon walks away with a smirk on his face. Damian could only glare at his retreating friend.

Sure enough, Jon was right, she was in the art room. However, it was clear that she was in the zone. A zone that is nearly impossible to get her out of.

“DC, can we talk?” She doesn’t acknowledge him. He tries again a couple more times. Damian should have known better. They barely speak when in class, so why the hell would they speak out of class.

“How it go?” Jon asks as he smiles knowing exactly how the encounter went.

“Kent, you could have told me she was in the zone.” Damian lightly punches Jon in the shoulder. “Do you have any idea what she’s working on?”

Jon chuckles and instead of answering he goes inside the art room. Damian couldn’t help but wonder about what they are doing.

The fifth attempt was really his own attempt. In fact, it was the girl he has been trying to ask out that ended all of his sufferings.

Damian was been avoiding practically everyone in the challenge to ask this one person to prom. Every potential idea was either scrap or too out of character for him—not that he was out of character trying to ask her in the first; he’s blaming it on this unknown emotion that has been haunting him since he had gotten to know DC. What makes matter worse is that prom was only a couple of weeks away.

“You’re going to love this.” Jon states dragging the Wayne heir across the school grounds. Damian put up a fight but Jon inhuman strength kind of won the battle. So, he was trapped in his best friend’s grip being to who knows where.

The next thing Damian knew was being stopped in his tracks and seeing black with little rays of light coming through Jon’s hand.

“Kent, I swear—”

“Yeah, yeah, just stay with me for a second.”

“A second.” Damian deadpans crossing his arms over his chest.

Damian may have not seen it but Jon was rolling his eyes and whispering some words to someone.

“Okay, in three…two…one!” Jon’s hand immediately uncovers his face. Damian was seconds away from turning to attack his friend, but something red, green, and yellow catches his eyes.

There standing in front of him, is the girl he’s been trying to ask out wearing a female version of the current Robin’s outfit holding a sign that says, “A Robin with a sword would be troubling, but a Robin without a sword wouldn’t be complete. Will you go to PROM WITH ME?” To the side of her is a try of Batfam theme cupcakes.

“Dupain-Cheng, you never cease to surprise me,” Damian states feeling a little stupid that he was worrying for nothing. “Yes, I’ll be your date to prom.”

“I know and do you have any idea how hard it was to pretend that I wasn’t interested.” Marinette awkwardly chuckles

“What?” Now he was confused. Hold on…pretending? Damian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You knew?” He accused Jon who simply shrugs and takes a cupcake like it was nothing.

“Seeing you two pinning over one another was the highlights of my day. Mari was always in a panic when she tried to talk to you but there was always someone in the way, and you panicking like it was the end of the world. So yeah, I needed my own fun with all of this.” Jon answers before taking a bite out of the cupcake.

Marinette and Damian eye one another before smirking.

Legend has it that Jon’s screams of terror echoes throughout the school.

Fast forward to prom night, the Wayne family finally understood why Damian wanted to have prom at the Wayne Manor. The moment they saw the girl he was escorting—Damian had taken the car earlier that evening without a word to his family—they were all shook. Dick was squealing saying that the little bird finally found someone. Tim wasn’t sure what was going on aside from the flashing lights. Jason knew that girl and went into overprotective brother mode (that was not for Damian). Bruce wanted to cry but he had to keep up an image. Alfred had taken photos of the couple—those did not see the light of day until the wedding.

All in all, the family was pleased to see Damian being happy with the girl as they dance the night away.

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

#maribat #daminette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #maridami #ml crossover #dc crossover #marinette x damian

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batboys-and-other-messes · 7 years ago

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Elevator (Tim Drake X Fem!Reader)

Requested: NO A/N: This was supposed to be short and sweet and then I lost control …. I had a conversation with @sassyshoulderangel319 (I can already type that url out by heart) about this post and which one I would choose and then somehow this formed in my heart and jesus, it was such a good idea. I put it under a Read More because it's ridiculously long and seriously… But I hope you guys like it!! Word count: 6256 (YES You read correctly. I lost control) Warning(s): Claustrophobia Tagged: @icequeen206 @crescent-bluemoon @nanna-the-batmum @xoleaox @sleep-depiravation [You wanna be tagged in my next piece? Just shoot me a message or ask!]

Your feet dragged across the floor as you walked towards the elevator.

Today was one of these days again. The kind that never ended and just seemed to drag on to eternity.

Your Head was pounding, your eyes were tired and your legs felt like someone had filled them with metal and put a magnet underneath the whole floor.

The building was already empty, which wasn’t a surprise at that time. It was already well past midnight and even the cleaning staff had been there and left again. You were alone, walking down the hallway.

Well, technically ‘alone’ except the one old guy who was lying there on his desk. You weren’t even sure if he was still alive but from what you heard through the gossip of the others, he just went through a nasty divorce and practically lived at his desk.

Poor Robert.

Well, at least he had a desk.

You knew you shouldn’t complain. You got a summer job at Wayne Enterprises. It was an opportunity some of your classmates would kill for, but there was always a catch with these kinds of things. What you didn’t expect when you signed all these confidentiality agreements was that your supervisor would be a lazy asshole that made you do all kinds of things you shouldn’t have to do.

But you had no say in the matter. Absolutely none.

So you sucked it up and got shit done.

And now that you had carried all these binders to the upper floor it was time to go down, get a taxi and sleep through tomorrow, your day off.

Almost lifelessly you pressed the elevator button, feeling like your finger might break from that little action.

Even the buttons up here were posh. The only thing missing was diamond-encrusting them. Maybe the Top floor had butlers that pushed the buttons for them?

You smiled at your own stupid joke, glad that nobody saw you. The doors opened and you stepped in. You pressed the last button and took out your phone. You haven’t had time to glance even once at it and were surprised to find 9 missed calls and about three dozen different messaged on it.

You were popular?

You expression fell when you saw that all of them were from your best friend.

The elevator moved but instead of going down it started to rise and you groaned internally. Someone from the higher-ups was still in the building, at this time?

You focused back on your phone. You phone signaled that it was very low on battery but you just clicked it away before you opened the newest messages and started to read them.

BITCH did you die or did you forget how to use your damn phone?? ANSWER ME Or do you think you are better than me now that you have a JOB and a PURPOSE in life? smh Hello??? You need to humble yourself Anyways, I have good news I’m gonna assume you asked ‘Oh Jenny, what good news?’ I found your lonely ass a boyfriend. I know, I know, thank me later Or thank me now Well, its actually gonna be a double date And I kinda already promised you’ll come I swear he’s cute Kinda Mine is They are brothers But he also has a sister, if you’re not in the mood for a guy? Don’t think I haven’t noticed your gay tendencies towards batgirl ANYWAYS Sorry to break your coming out? Or is it rather a Passing BI? haha Yeah okay, that was a bad one That’s what you get for ignoring me Bitch

You closed your eyes as you heard the elevator ding, and the doors open. You were too tired for this shit. Way too tired for any of this.

Also, who wasn’t gay for Batgirl?

That was normal, right?

You started typing out your reply, too focused not to use too many curses and to keep her family out of it, to even notice the stranger that entered.

A moment passed and suddenly everything happened at once. You hit send, then the elevator shook, it stopped with a BANG, your phone died and the lights went out.

It all happened in the blink of an eye and for a moment you thought you had died.

And suddenly, your realized your situation.

‘I am stuck in an elevator’, was the only thing you could think of.

The person next to you sighed deeply and you let out a scream and jumped to the nearest wall.

‘WE are stuck in an elevator’

Fuck.

You took in a shaky breath as you felt cold and hot at the same time. Your sleepiness was gone, being replaced by a thousand pictures of crashing elevators and that one weird X-Factor Episode where (supposedly) death himself was in one and you only heard the screams of these people and you really didn’t want to die in an elevator with a stranger. You had so many things you still wanted to do! Hell, you haven’t even paid your student loan yet!

Though this thought calmed you a little bit.

Fuck capitalism.

“Hey” A male voice spoke up somewhere from the left. “Are you okay?” he asked and you gulped.

Okay, (Y/N), don’t show him that you’re having a panic attack.

“No.” you answered truthfully.

Yeah okay, that didn’t go as planned.

Maybe it was the adrenalin or the utter terror in your bones, but you weren’t really able to lie right now.

“It’s gonna be okay. We’ll just have to find the emergency-button.” He said and he sounded young. Something about his voice and the way he said it made you feel calmer but the fact that you were locked in here with a stranger unnerved you.

You nodded, realizing that he couldn’t see you, you added a quick “Okay.”

You moved towards where you remembered the buttons to be and suddenly you felt a hand and you yelped.

His hands were cold.

“Oh sorry.” He apologized and you heard him press a button, once.

You two waited and he pressed it again.

After pressing it about fifteen times nothing happened.

The darkness was getting to you and your hands started to sweat as you cursed yourself for not taking the elevator with the glass walls and the freaking panorama view. At least the moon would’ve provided some light but no, you were lazy and took the first one you saw.

“Weird.” The guy said and you didn’t answer. But it seemed like he was more talking to himself. “Usually the emergency generator should’ve turned on by now. And if that one failed the backup should’ve been enough to at least power the elevators.”

Maybe he was just thinking out loud but every single word filled you with a deeper sense of dread.

Was it common knowledge how many emergency-generators this damn building had? What did this mean? Where you going to die in here?

You heard some rustling and then a sigh.

“My phones dead.” He said and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out if he was talking to you or if he just really enjoyed his own voice.

Either way, every statement that left his mouth wasn’t good.

“I guess we have to wait.” He said and you nodded again which, of course, he couldn’t see.

“Okay” you managed to say meekly.

A silence settled between the two of you and it wasn’t one of the good kind. It was rather the “My crush just saw me scratch my ass and pick my nose while farting” kind of silence that made one want to fling oneself out of the nearest window and into certain death.

It was very awkward silence.

You heard the guy clear his throat. “Uhm… Hello.”

Oh shit, he wanted to converse.

You started to hyperventilate for the fifth time in the span of a second before you almost slapped yourself.

Get your shit together, (Y/N). It’s a conversation. You can do this. Remember? You had plenty of conversations in your life!

But how should you answer? ‘Hello’ would sound too stiff. ‘Hi’ would sound like you were best friends and you didn’t even know this guy. But going back to Hello would signal to him that you wanted to talk which you actually didn’t. Meaning you wanted to have a conversation with him because it seemed to calm you down but you didn't want to be trapped in the social construct of a conversation and then accidentally make it really awkward and end up trapped in a long awkward silence knowing that he would judge you for the whole time you two were trapped in there. You really didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of someone who might be the last person to see you alive.

“Okay, I guess you don’t want to talk.” He said slowly and he sounded so unnervingly calm.

“Yes. I mean No. I mean No I- I mean I don’t want to talk. I mean I don't want not to talk- Ugh. I WANT to talk but I tried to negate it twice and it came out sounding like I didn’t want to talk when in fact I do.” You said and you mentally slapped yourself for that.

Great thinking, (Y/N). No more freestyle-conversation for you until you learn how to act like a person, you moron.

Suddenly you heard him chuckle at that before he started to laugh as quietly as he could. It seemed very sincere and gave you the more reason to slam your head against the wall. But you didn’t.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” he said and you wondered if he was lying.

“What’s your name?” he asked and you blurted out “Nineteen.”

A second passed.

“Your name is Nineteen?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“No. I-I am nineteen years old. My name is (Y/N). I don’t know why but I thought you asked for my age because everyone here asks for my age first since this is actually just a summer job, you know and yeah.” you said.

You didn’t know why you were still alive right now.

“Oh, cool. You got a summer job here?” He continued as if he still thought you were a sane person and you were very grateful for that.

“Y-Yeah. There was this representative at my college and I won the contest for a ‘summer job’. Depending on how I do, I might even get a permanent job offer for when I’m done with college.” You said.

Your feet were hurting you and as if he could hear your thoughts you heard him sit down on the dirty elevator-floor before you could even ask yourself if it was okay for you to do so.

“Oh yeah, I heard of that. Congratulations, by the way.” His voice came from his sitting position. There was a smile in his voice and a sincerity you haven’t heard in a long time from someone else.

“Thank you.” You said, mimicking him and sitting down too. Your foot bumped against his when you tried to stretch your legs so you immediately pulled them back and just crossed your legs.

“What’s your name?” you asked, seemingly way calmer than before.

There was a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“Tim.” He said and you silently nodded.

“Hi, Tim.” You said and he let out a short chuckle.

“Hi (Y/N).”

“Do you think we are going to die here?” you asked.

“Okay, that escalated quickly.” He mumbled more to himself before you heard him continue.

“No. This building is very safe. The only thing worrying me is why our phones didn’t work. Mine is always charged and the backup generators should work anyways unless someone turned them off on purpose.”

You knew his words were supposed to be aimed at you but somewhere in the middle of it, he seemed to be talking to himself again. You still continued to listen.

“Well, my phone was low on battery anyway.” You said and he stopped at that for a moment.

“Mine was fully charged.” He said.

A pause.

“When did it turn off?” he asked and something in his voice made you answer it immediately.

“The same second the lights went out.” you said and even you realized how weird that sounded. There was still a little bit of battery left, a text message couldn’t possibly drain that much energy at once.

He was quiet for some time.

“What... does that mean?” you asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know yet, but it's not a good sign.” He said before he quickly added. “I still think we are safe here. Its probably a robbery of some kind and the energy will be back as soon as they are done.” He assured you and you didn’t believe a word he said.

“Bullshit.” You said forcefully in his direction.

“If what you just implied was true and someone messed with the energy enough to turn both our phones off at the top of the building then that’s definitely not a normal robbery. It's probably something bigger. Like super-villain big. So stop lying to me.”

You let your words hang in the air between the two of you and you just wished you could see his expression right now.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said after a while and you were surprised that he didn’t try to lie his way out of this.

“I didn’t want to worry you because you already seemed pretty freaked out.” He explained and you could understand that.

“Fair point.” You said and you both fell into your own thoughts again as the silence started.

“Hey, Tim?” You spoke after a while, which felt like an eternity. “Is Tim short for something? Like Timothy? Or Timotheus? Or is it just Tim?” you asked, hoping he wouldn’t ask why you would voice such a stupid question.

“Timothy.” He said and you could swear could hear him laugh but he didn’t make a sound. “But I prefer Tim.”

“Oh, so Timothy, like the Wayne one.” You said. “Or was it Drake-Wayne? Was it just Drake? Like the rapper? Shoot, Maybe I should know this since I'm working here. I hope they don’t quiz me on this or else it would really be embarrassing. I don’t even know how many children Mr. Wayne has. Is there like a chart or something?? They don’t quiz the employees here, do they?” you talked yourself into panic again.

“No. They definitely don’t.” he stated calmly and you were sure he was making fun of you.

“I mean they shouldn’t… It’s a weird thing to ask someone. And if someone does, just shoot a random number and make something up. That's what I like to do, anyway.” He said and you nodded, making a mental note of that.

“Right.” You said.

“You get anxious really easily.” Tim broke the silence absentmindedly.

“Yeah, It’s the Anxiety.” You shot back and it made him laugh again.

“Yeah, I figured. It was like my second guess.” He said and you smiled.

“Second? What was your first guess then?”

“The first was that you’re secretly the criminal responsible for this. Maybe your escape plan had failed and now that you’re trapped here with a civilian your cover is about to be blown.”

You would lie if you said you wouldn’t like to hear the rest of this story.

“Wow.” You said. “That’s… very specific…. Su- Suspiciously specific.” You said, letting that sink in.

“Are you trying to tell me something with this, Timothy?” Was that even his real name?

“No.” The pause before he spoke was way too long for your comfort.

Way too long.

“And please call me Tim.”

“I’m curious now. Was there like… a third theory you had?” you licked your dry lips in nervousness.

“Yeah. That you’re nervous because of me.”

“Well, I certainly am now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really. You could be a murderer for all I know. I mean you are so calm while we're stuck here, that kinda screams psychopath. And your name is Timothy. I dunno, there are a lot of red flags here.” You rambled on, not even sure yourself if you’re joking or not. But you mostly were.

“Hey, whats wrong with Timo-“

Suddenly you felt the elevator drop an inch and you almost pissed yourself.

Then the lights flickered and there was suddenly light illuminating the elevator.

“Oh, the lights are back on.” He said, looking up before he stood up again, pressing the emergency button. There was a voice that came from the speakers above and you registered him saying something but you didn’t really catch what he was saying as you just kept staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

It was him.

Timothy Drake-Wayne.

FUCK.

It was him all along.

What the fuck did you say to him?

You were sure you insulted him at least three times in the span of this conversation and he didn’t even say a word! And looking at him now he sure looked a lot more handsome than he did in the papers and he was your boss in some kind of way, no, he was the boss of your bosses boss and you just called him a murderer and you would probably be kicked out the next thing right now and you wouldn’t even mind because why the fuck did you have to run your mouth like this?!?

“This might take a while. So, where were we?” he asked, letting himself slide down before glancing at you again.

“Right. I was possibly a psychopath.”

“I am so so so sorry.” Your face exploded in all shades of red as you pressed your lips together, avoiding his eyes at all cost.

“What for?” he chuckled with a lopsided smile. “I mean the name thing was kinda rude and I honestly want to know whats wrong with my name but you were just being honest.” He shrugged and you kind of wished the elevator would plunge to you to death. “Not many people here tell me that to my face.”

“Yeah, but it was only because I couldn’t see your face!”

“Why? Whats wrong with my face now?”

“Nothing! Its ridiculously stunning and it belongs to the guy owning this damn elevator.” You almost cursed.

“Bruce Wayne owns it.” He corrected you and he seemed surprised by your choice of words. “... and thanks?”

“You’re his son.” You retorted.

“Adoptive son.”

“Same thing.”

At that he paused, looking at the corner of the elevator. “No. Not according to some people.”

You stopped mid-thought.

“Oh.” You said, not knowing what else to say.

But you had already shot yourself in the leg once, so why not reload?

“But why should it matter what other people think? It’s not their decision to make how you feel towards someone. Or what your relationship with them is.” You looked at your hands, fumbling with your fingers as you felt his eyes on you.

“Sometimes… biological parents… aren’t good.” you added.

Your heart was beating and you knew he was watching you but he didn’t say a word. He just listened to you, waiting for you to speak out what you were thinking. What you were implying.

You weren’t sure if you could.

“Are yours?” he asked and it felt like a little nudge. Soft but present. Like a calm hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to make the step.

What was it with him? How could he make you feel so calm with just his voice? With just his presence? With this look in his eyes that you didn’t even have to see.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m eighteen..” You said. “It shouldn’t matter”

“Maybe it shouldn’t,” he said. His knees were up and his arms rested on them, crossed. He didn’t look like the co-owner of a company. He just looked like a guy with a lot on his mind. And lusciously messy hair. “But it does.”

Suddenly you heard a sound and both of you looked at your phones.

“My phone is on again... And its fully charged?” you said in confusion before he confirmed that his was too.

You both started to type away as you opened your friend's Messages.

Did you die again? HELLOOOOOOO?? You can’t insult my eyebrows and then JUST LEAVE ?!?!? What the fuck is wrong with you?? You know how insecure I am about this

There was a string of other nonsensical messages but you decided to reply immediately before the power went out again.

Stuck in an elevator. Power and phone went off. Just turned on again Still stuck And your eyebrows are shit

You smiled as you saw the bubble pop up, indicating that she was typing.

OKAY, FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU? Second of all Are you okay? Did you call for help? Are you alone? Should I call and keep you company?

You quickly glanced over at Tim, as he seemed to be texting someone too, a slight frown on his face before you looked back at your phone.

Nope, not alone

A pause.

And who’s there with you??

You typed.

Theres a guy with me

Old or cute?

Second And why are these the only two options?

You only realized how true this was when you typed it out. You were definitely attracted to him. Of course, you couldn’t fall for a cute barista or someone else. No, It had to be untouchable people like Batgirl and Bruce Wayne’s freaking son.

At least you weren’t aiming low.

What kind of cute?

Tim Drake

Since when is that a measurement in your book? I mean I won’t complain. He’s cute?

No It’s him.

???

The guy. In the Elevator. With me. Is him.

There was a long pause in which she didn’t even type and you were afraid that she had placed her phone down before you saw the bubble pop up.

Use protection.

You closed your eyes in resignation.

I’m going to slap you

Well, whats the problem?

I insulted him... I think?

Of course you did

I mean it

Thats the problem

Are you going to help me or be useless?

I dunno… My eyebrows are still hurt

JENNIFER

Whoa we’re busting ot the full names now? Heavy.

I’m not good at this?

Good at what?

Talking

I know

Jen...

Seriously, what are you trying to do? Apologize? What am I supposed to help you here with?? Give a girl something to work with!

You thought about your reply for a moment before typing it up.

Flirt?

You died just typing that up.

“I got some good and some bad news,” Tim said.

His voice ripped you out of your thought and you almost dropped the phone in a panic, afraid that he could read what you had just written. You placed it display-down on your lap, blushing.

“W-what?” you asked as you looked at him.

“Well, the good news is that there was a power outage and in the whole city. Something like a force-field-thing but we don’t know more.”

You blinked.

“Why is that good news?” you asked, confused.

“It means nobody targeted this building specifically. We are safe. Locked up but safe.”

Somehow, that made sense. But only in Gotham.

“And the bad news?” you asked.

“There is a lot happening right now and we might be stuck in here for a while because there are other emergencies that happened.” he explained carefully and you nodded.

That meant you would spend some time with him in here.

You glanced at your phone to see what your friend had answered.

Show him your tits

You blocked her.

“You look angry.” You noted, lying on the floor with his jacket underneath your head. He had insisted you take it and you learned how stubborn he could be.

“’M not.” He said absentmindedly while frowning at his phone.

“You sure do.” You said. He probably wasn’t even listening to you.

“Nope.” He said casually.

“Yupp.”

“No.”

“Ye-hes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Stop it.”

“Nope.”

This was fun.

“Who are you texting?” you asked, bored out of your mind. It looked like he was doing something very important and you asked yourself if he was a workaholic. Or maybe he just enjoyed someone else's company more than yours?

Were you that boring?

“My brother.” He said, glancing over at you for a moment with a quick smile and suddenly you felt reassured again.

Damn, he was good.

“Hm.” You just said, not knowing how to answer to that.

“Why did you stop texting?” he asked, still typing away and you turned your head to him.

“What do you mean?” you asked confused.

“When your phone worked again you were texting with someone. And then you stopped.” he stated curiously and you realized that it was a main trait of his. Curiosity.

“My best friend.” You said, circling your finger over your phone that was laying on your stomach.

“But she’s being obnoxious again.” You finished drawing your circles and started drawing them in the other direction.

“How come?”

It was such a simple question but he seemed genuinely interested. At the same time, he wasn’t even looking at you and was typing on his screen. You didn’t know what to make of it.

Talk about mixed signals.

“She’s trying to set me up on blind dates and … she really doesn’t have the slightest clue what my type is.”

You paused a moment and he looked at you, fully.

“Jesus, that sounded stuck-up.” You realized horrified. “W-what I meant is that I don’t even know if I have a type myself and I didn’t mean it in a physical appearance-wise way but its just really uncomfortable when you sit with someone and try to talk to him and its just obvious they are here to hook up with your friend and not interested to talk to you, at all. You know?” You said, squinting up at the ceiling of the elevator, wondering why you just told him that. Why should he care?

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation.

You would probably regret this a lot tomorrow.

“Why... don’t you just tell her no?”

It sounded so simple when he said it.

Because she always agrees first and then it’s my fault when I cancel.

Because she is a little bit manipulative like that sometimes.

Because she keeps playing the victim whenever I do.

There where so many replies you could’ve given him but you didn’t. Instead, you sighed.

“Because I’m a pushover.” you said, and it rang true to you.

“You don’ sound like one.” He said, unsure of how to word it. “Or at least you don’t seem like one.”

“Thanks, guy who knows me for like two hours. At least that means I can fake dominance?”

He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, ‘dominance’ is maybe a bit far-fetched,” he mumbled.

“Oh, shut up, Timothy.”

“I would really appreciate it f you would stop calling me that.”

“Why? What's wrong with Timothy?”

“Maybe we should start recording diary entries to keep track of the days that had passed? In case someone finds us too late?”

You had taken off your shoes and his head rested on your bag. He had rolled up his sleeves and his tie was gone and it was seriously dangerous for you to look at him right now.

Somehow being stuck with him for 4 hours fo far made him seem so much more human than you would’ve ever imagined. This wasn’t the rich business-boy you heard of. This was fidgety, curious and sassy Tim. The elevator Tim.

“Jokes on you, I already made seven entries so far. Currently on entry eight, pondering about the symbolism of the elevator.” His Phone was gone and he was staring at the blinking lights with you. Occasionally closing his eyes as he seemed to be just as tired as you were.

In a normal setting you would’ve never been caught dead in such a position but somehow you stopped caring around the first hour that had passed. Social construct couldn’t harm you here anymore. It was a surreal plane of existence.

“Maybe the lights are the light that leads us to the afterlife?” you theorized and you saw him grin at that.

“And the buttons symbolize the levels of hell?” he added

“Heaven and hell.” You corrected.

“We’re somewhere on the top floor. What does that mean?”

You thought about it.

“That Satan and God are fighting for custody and god is winning?” you improvised on the spot.

He let out a laugh.

“Great. I’m gonna get adopted again.”

At that, you burst out laughing.

“Why do you carry so many chocolate-bars in your bag? Did you raid a vending machine or something?” Tim looked at you, deeply concentrated as he took a bite from one of them.

“Pff, Because I always am prepared for being stranded on a deserted island like in Cast Away, duh.” You said, mockingly.

“And chocolate bars would be your number one priority in such a case?” he raised an eyebrow, crunching at the chocolate-chip one.

“What would be yours, Mr. Know-it-all?” you asked

“Water. Water and shelter, obviously.”

“Yeah, but I can’t exactly carry around a freaking tent with me everywhere.” You chuckled.

“Pff you could. With the right amount of dedication.” He smiled.

“People would think I’m paranoid.”

“A small price for survival, (Y/N).”

“Guess I’ll just die then?” you shrugged.

“Yeah …. Please don’t.”

He smiled weakly but there was something in his voice you couldn’t decipher.

“Oh, that’s easy.” Tim said, eyes determined.

“I would kill Robin, Marry Nightwing and fuck Red Robin.” He said and you chuckled at the speed of which he answered that question.

“What did Robin ever do to you?��

“Do I have to answer this?” he asked dramatically.

“No, but why marry Nightwing? I want to know your thoughts behind it.”

“He seems like someone you could trust?” he motioned the usual ‘I don’t know’ motion and you accepted it.

“I’m not gonna question the Red Robin part.” You assured him and it seemed to pique his interest.

“Why not? Is it like….. a common thing to want?” he sounded almost worried and definitely confused.

“Well not that I know... but he seems like a loveable dork.” You chuckled. “He saved me once.”

“He… did?” He asked.

“Yeah. I almost walked into traffic once while I was distracted, long story, and he just pulled me back while swinging by and yelled ‘PAY ATTENTION’ and then he slammed against a building.” You laughed softly at the memory. “I felt so guilty for it but he was already gone before I could apologize.”

Tim went silent after that.

“If we ever get out of here, I want to eat a triple cheeseburger. Not the tiny ones. I’m talking about the ones that are as big as my face. The ones you could feed a small family with for three days, you know?”

You were hungry.

There was more hunger than a few chocolate bars and some bubblegum could satisfy. Maybe it was also just the fantasy of being free and sitting in a fast food joint and stuffing your face that intensified that wish.

You wanted out of there and the need to get up and run was getting stronger and stronger with every passing minute. But at the same time, you wanted to stay and keep talking with him.

He gave you a kind of attention you’ve been desperately waiting and searching for and a part of you felt guilty that maybe he was forced to do so since he had nowhere else to go right now. But it felt so natural and sincere whenever he did that you wished it would never end.

When you didn’t get a response from him you turned your head, only to see him staring back at you. He immediately looked away.

“Y-yeah, me too.” He quickly said and you asked yourself what that look just now was supposed to mean.

You opened your eyes, blinking at the bright light in the room.

Where were you?

Oh right, you were still trapped.

And you had fallen asleep.

Fuck.

You looked over at Tim, who was sitting up again.

You blushed deeply in embarrassment before you sat up too.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Tim looked at you again with a smile.

“Yeah … Uhm… How long was I gone?” you asked, hesitantly and you watched him look at his phone.

“About an hour.”

Your heart dropped.

“Oh. Thanks.” You couldn’t even believe you had the nerve to fall asleep in a situation like this but you were apparently tired enough to do so.

“What did I miss?” you asked and you definitely noticed how he hesitated and avoided your eyes.

“Your friend called.” He said. “And …. She sounded angry.”

Your heart dropped.

“You picked up??” you asked in disbelieve. What did she say to him?? Oh Dear Lord, please let her have shut her big mouth just once for this time, PLEASE.

“I- I really didn’t mean to pick up! But she called seven times and your phone wasn’t muted and when I wanted to mute it I saw her text of how worried she was and…” he trailed off and it was almost a little bit comforting to see him talk in a frenzy instead of you.

“What did she say?” you asked, having your mental fingers crossed and hoping for the best.

“Nothing much. She kept yelling and when I finally got a word in she hung up.” he said and you never felt more relieved than before.

“Are you shitting me? That’s what he did??” you couldn’t contain yourself in laughter as you heard the story he had just told you. It made you feel a dozen times better about the ones you had told him before.

“Yeah. Bruce banned spoons after that. Except for the kitchen and dining room, of course.”

You laughed at that, even letting out a snort as you couldn’t contain it.

“No wonder he always looks so tired in all the pictures.” You chuckled.

“Besides that, I still can’t believe you have a dining room. One that you actually use.” You added.

Tim looked away and you had learned in the short time here with him that it meant he wasn’t quite comfortable with that topic.

“Yeah, comes with the job I guess?”

“How often do you guys just … you know, play hide and seek? Or Tag? Do you ever feel tempted?”

Tim chuckled.

“We did, once. We aren’t allowed to do that anymore. We lost Damian for two days and didn’t tell Bruce...” he trailed off.

You laughed again and you didn’t notice how much he seemed to enjoy that sound.

“I don't even want to know how you guys did that.” You said, grinning at the hilarity of it all.

“I’m not even sure I’m allowed to tell you, anyway.” He replied. You glanced over at him, opening your mouth to say something when you both heard a voice from outside.

You both looked at the door from where the sound came.

It was the rescue workers. And suddenly a timer started to run down in your head that you didn’t know you would start to detest.

It was only a matter of time till this would end.

The men outside started the whole ‘Are you safe’ spiel and you heard Tim answer some of the questions. The only thing you could focus on was what the man had said.

“You’ll be out in 15 to 20 minutes.”

15 to 20 minutes.

That was by far not enough time.

Was it selfish of you to want to sit here with him and keep talking? Listening to his past shenanigans and the way he laughed when you told him yours? The way his brows creased when he was thinking or the completely surprised expression of his when you delivered a good comeback to his sassy remarks?

You probably shouldn’t feel this way anyways.

Wasn’t he technically your boss?

Even though he had told you that he really didn’t like it when you talk to him like he was this big shot, it still didn't change the fact that he was.

Or maybe it was your way of pushing him away? Your way of justifying why he would never be interested in you in this way.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Tim looked down at you and you honestly didn't know how to answer that. You sat up, hearing the workers trying to open the doors as you glanced at the jacket your head was lying on a second ago.

“This is going to sound stupid…” you said, already throwing the idea out of the window until you saw his face. It was concerned, almost worried and a little bit curious.

“Try me.” He said, encouragingly.

“I’m .. gonna miss this.” You said eyes averted to your shoes. The courage he had given you was gone and you wished you could take all that back.

“Being locked in?” he asked and you looked up at him, ready to tell him how stupid that question just was when you saw his smile. He understood.

You two shared a look.

“You know..” he started after a moment. “There is this place, a few blocks from here, that has really good burgers… At least I heard so.”

You chuckled.

“Oh, really? Even cheeseburgers?”

“Yupp. The big ones.”

“Sounds tempting.”

A heartbeat passed.

“Would you want to go with me?”

You thought about it.

“Like as newly formed friends or as a date?”

“Definitely a date.” he paused. “O-only if you want to.”

You could barely contain your smile as you heard the door crack open.

“I would love to.”

#my writing #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake fluff #fluff #batboy x reader #batboys #batboy imagine #dc imagine #red robin imagine #red robin x reader

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ellana-ravenwood · 8 years ago

Text

Naked Birds - Tim Drake x Reader

Summary : You are Tim’s girlfriend, and today, you play some strip poker with the batboys...(Tim is a bit older than he is currently in the comics, like he’s around 19 or something).

for @gobydana, hope you’ll like it (I’m always stressed the people who requested things are gonna be like : “that’s shit”) :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

It was a Saturday afternoon on a rainy day when everything happened, when you gain your boyfriend’s older brothers’ respect. And also embarrassed them more than they ever been embarrassed in their lives.

Dick, Jason, Tim and you were spending some times altogether, getting to know each other, as in five years of relationship with Tim, you never really had time to hang out with his family (busy people).

Bruce was at work, Alfred had a day off, and Damian was hanging out with some friends (which was so rare that no one dared to tell him to stay to spent the day with you guys).

-No Jason, we are NOT playing strip poker right now.

-But I’m bored and a movie is...

-I said we’re not !

-Why nooooowwwt ?

-Because it’s only you, Dick, (Y/N) and I, I don’t need to see my brothers naked.

-And (Y/N) ?

-We’ve been together for five years, what, you think I never saw her naked ?

-I never saw her naked.

-Good.

Jason gives his brother an infuriating smile and, taking some soda cans while Tim takes a giant bowl of pop-corns, they go back to the living room where you and Dick are waiting.

The eldest Wayne boy is sitting upside down on the couch while you’re on the floor, browsing their...very small movie collection. You turn to look at your boyfriend and his brother coming in, and, with an exasperated look, you say :

-You guys are the sons of one of the richest man on Earth, and you own like...Five DVDs ? Three of which are the same copy of “The Sound of Music” for some reasons...I’m worried about you guys’ sanity.

-Bruce loves that film.

-Really ?

-Oh yeah, he makes us watch it at least once a month. He’s Captain Von Trapp.

-Uh ?

-...While watching it, he re-enacts the film. He’s always Captain Von Trapp. And he forces us to be other characters as well.

You go to sit in between your boyfriend and Jason, and with a sly smile you ask him :

-Who are you ?

He blushes like crazy, already regretting talking about his father’s weird habit.

-...No one.

-Tim, babe, who are you ? I swear I’m not gonna laugh.

A small silence. A bit awkward. He knows that if he doesn’t tell you, his brothers will, and that it’d be worst, so :

-...one of the daughter. Depends which one on the day, but I’m most often Liesl. Sometimes I’m all of them...

It took everything in you to not burst out in laughter at the thought of your boyfriend singing the girls’ parti of the movie, and, swallowing a chuckle, you look at him very seriously and say :

-Such a big role. You must be proud.

-You swore not to...

-Laugh. I never said anything about not mocking you.

-I like your girlfriend Timmy.

You high five Jason, and you both snicker like idiots at Tim’s pouty face.

-Oh come on love, turn that frown, upside down !

You singsong, pinching his cheeks in between your fingers. He pushes you away, but can’t hide the smile growing on his face. Jason makes a small sound of disgust as you and Tim kiss, and you expertly elbow him in the ribs.

Dick rolls off the couch and asks :

-So, what do you guys wanna watch ? (Y/N), you’re our guest, you choose !

-Well, difficult choice. It’s either “Star Wars : The Phantom menace”, aka the worst Star Wars ever, “Harry Potter and the order of the Phoenix” which I’ve seen a thousand times, or The Sound of Music.

You pick up the two other copies of the DVD and add :

-Or the Sound of Music. And oh ! The Sound of Music.

The brothers laugh. Tim wraps an arm around your shoulder, and squeeze you against him, kissing your forehead lovingly. He loved (love) you too damned much, he hope with all his heart, prayed to every Gods, that he’d never loose you...Lost in his thoughts, your boyfriend did not notice Jason’s sly smile at your decomposed features (for real though, if you knew, you’d have come with loads of your favorite movies in DVDs !), and therefor, didn’t react quick enough to shut him up :

-I have another idea (Y/N). Do you know how to play...poker ?

He looks at you smugly, and you feel Tim stiffening next to you.

-If I know how to play poker ? Oh Timothy, your brother is a funny one. I was born to play poker, mate.

-Is that so miss (Y/L/N) ? Timmy, your girl is getting cocky.

-Cocky uh ? You’re on Todd, we’re playing poker ! Anything is better than “The Sound of Music” really...

-Never say that in front of Bruce haha.

You and Jason stood up, and Dick was looking at his little brother, worried. Every single muscles of Tim’s body were flexed, and his jaw was clenched. He was looking straight in front of him, and it felt like he was going to crack in a million pieces under the pressure of his own strength. Carefully, dick got closer and laid a soothing hand on his shoulder, while you and Jason went to the living room table to set up the game.

-Are you ok Tim ? You seem a bit...tense.

-Tense ? I’m going to play strip poker with my brothers and my girlfriend, why would I be tense ? It’s fine really, everything is totally fine.

Tim managed to say between clenched teeth. And it hit Dick. Of course Jason would. He had to admit though, he wondered what your reaction would be once Jay would tell him the extra rule of the game...

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

Your reaction surprised all of them. When Jason said that every time someone would lose, they had to take an article of clothing off, you just went :

-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Oh my God guys, get ready to end this nice little day naked hahahahaha. Naked little birds. Interesting.

Under Tim’s jealous gaze, you wink mischievously at his brothers, and they felt themselves blush without being able to stop.

-What do you mean “interesting” ?!

-Your bros are hot honey.

-...WHAT ?!

-You’re the hottest one though.

You smile at his outraged face, and he’s about to say something...but the kiss you give him makes him forget everything. You knew him too well, you knew he couldn’t get mad at you when you were being affectionate. One hand in his hair, the other around his neck, his arms go to grab your waist and he deepens the kiss, you..

-Ahem.

Dick. And Jason, as a matter of fact. You both turn to look at them, still in each other’s arms.

-It’s getting a bit embarrassing right now...

You smile and pull away from Tim, he plants a last kiss on your cheek before you both go sit around the table.

-Well, let’s start that game shall we ?

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

Stunned. That’s what they were, as Dick and Tim were down to only their pants and boxer, and Jason still only had his underwear (some brief he stole from Bruce, and his unmatched socks), while you still had all of your clothes on. All of it.

Yep, stunned would pretty much describe really well their feelings.

-And boom, I win again with...a pair of six !

-I KNEW YOU WERE BLUFFING !

-Yeah well, that’s the point of the game no ? Off with your socks Todd. Or your underwear, as you wish.

You wink at him, and Tim glares at his brother, daring him to even try to get his underwear off.

-They’re called “briefs”, Bruce wears them so...

-Are those Bruce’s ?

-...Maybe...

-Oh my God Jason...really ?

-I retract what I said earlier, I don’t like your girl Tim.

-Good, cause I like her, so you can’t have her.

Dick cannot stop his fit of laughter, and soon, all of you are struggling to breath as you giggle like children. Jason takes off his socks, and focus more than ever on the next game.

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

-Oh, and look at that, naked little birds. Maybe not so little though if you gotta use both hands...

Dick and Jason, their hands covering what they have between their thighs, are facing you, as red as tomatoes. Next to you, Tim smile slyly at them, forgetting his jealousy, standing proudly still in his boxers, as you are still...fully clothed.

-Ok, alright, you had your fun, are you done now ? Can we like...put our clothes back on ?

-Nope, that’s not how the game work...Run to your rooms naked, you’re not allowed to put those clothes back on.

They look at each others, then back at you to make sure you’re serious and...oh, you’re very serious. You didn’t destroy them at poker to not even enjoy the view a little. Their muscled chests were already pretty nice...but when they hurriedly left the room...damn their back muscles, thighs and NICE BUTTS !! Tim’s hand pinching your side brought you back to real life.

-What ? It’s not because I already ordered my meal that I can’t look at the menu some more.

You wink at him, and his scoff and little outraged expression make you laugh.

-Besides, I enjoyed seeing them blush, and Jason’s smug face disappearing after the first game, more than “looking” at them.

-I gotta admit, their facial expressions were priceless.

-Right ?

Tim smiles fondly at you and take you close to him, pressing a searing kiss on your lips, just to make sure you remember that only him can make you feel that way...When you pull away, he says :

-I didn’t know you were that good at poker by the way, you amaze more and more every day.

-Ttt, I cheated Tim.

-What ?

-I always cheat at poker, that’s why I’m so good at it. I count the cards, and when I shuffle them, I put some on up my sleeves.

-Are you serious ? I didn’t see anything...

-Yup, serious as Hell. And that’s the point, for people not to realize I’m cheating.

He looks at you, stunned again...and a bright smile spread across his face. You loved his smile.

-Oh my, I love you so much (Y/N), you’re the most amazing woman I ever met.

-I love you too Tim...You’re definitely in the top five most amazing men I ever met.

-You think you’re funny don’t you ?

-I think I’m hilarious.

He laughs, genuinely laughs, and it’s so rare that you can’t help but kiss him. It’s so good to see him relax, and not stressed by his nightly activities (yes, you know...of course you know, you guessed pretty quickly, and anyway, he told you). His lips taste of coffee, and you remind yourself to be more careful and to watch his caffein intake with more attention.

His father’s heavy steps make you two pull away from each other (with great regret). Enter a very confused Bruce. He’s showing somewhere behind himself with his thumbs and says, clearly troubled :

-...Wh...Why were Dick and Jason running naked in the house ?

Tim’s and your laugh answer him, and as you leave the room, the Batman finds himself completely clueless for the first time in years. Maybe watching “The Sound of Music” would help ? ...

FIN.

#Tim Drake x Reader #Timothy Drake x Reader #Red Robin x Reader #Reader x Batfam #Reader x Batfamily #Tim Drake imagine #Timothy Drake Imagine #Red Robin Imagine #Reader insert Tim Drake #batboys #batboys x reader

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curlyshepards · 8 years ago

Text

tim headcanons: fucking long ass edition im so sorry

again this is under a read more so @ mobile users....im sorry

What does their bedroom look like?

he shares a room with curly, so it looks like a tornado ripped through the room and only destroyed curly's half. his is nice and neat

Do they have any daily rituals?

this isnt really daily, but if he wakes up really early or comes home super later (like early hours of the morning) he'll most likely see his mom in the kitchen and they'll sit at the table and talk until someone else comes in. its the only time she acts like herself & not hanging off their stepdad and tim cherishes those times!!! but he never tells anyone abt their conversations

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

i can see him going to a gym every now and then, but mostly bc his buddy works there. they'd lift weights and goof around so hes not rlly into working out, he knows to stay fit tho

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

it depends on who was in the kitchen. if it was his stepdad he'd just leave the house and go out for dinner because he avoids him as much as he can. if it was angie he'd get her to make him something, but if it was his mom then he'd ask if shes eaten anything and would probably end up making somethin for the both of them

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

hes SUPER organized. like with everything. it drives him insane that curly's such a slob

Eating habits and sample daily menu

for breakfast he usually just has coffee. but he gets fast food a lot (no one knows how he stays in such good shape) but if he doesnt go out to eat he'll just get food from his friends houses

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

he loves to play pool and card games!! he tries to avoid wasting time though, he always feels like theres something he could be doing to give his gang more power & respect

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

again i dont know what this means but every now and then he will indulge in a big ass chocolate milkshake and no one can stop him

Makeup?

just like curly he is all for makeup sex

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

nope none

Intellectual pursuits?

he's actually really smart, and if he wanted to then he could have gone off to college. he's always loved leading his gang tho so that is his main priority

Favorite book genre?

the only thing he ever reads is the newspaper (their stepdad usually steals it after he reads it and they never see it again, so tim always makes sure to take the comic section out and save it for curly)

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

hes straight but he doesnt really care about people sexual orientations. ya like who ya like and it doesnt affect him

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

he has that big ass scar on his face, so there's that. hes also SLIGHTLY allergic to cat fur

Biggest and smallest short term goal?

biggest: buy a new leather jacket that DOESNT have rips in the sleeves smallest: get their house cleaned up bc all the beer bottles and broken glass on the floor is starting to give him a headache

Biggest and smallest long term goal?

biggest: officially lead the toughest gang in tulsa

smallest: get curly and angela through high school

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

basically just t-shirts and jeans. he rolls the sleeves of his shirts up and he keeps a comb in his back left pocket. he might be wearing a leather jacket, but he'll probably just have it slung over his shoulder

Favorite beverage?

coke

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

his gang and how to make it better. it literally consumes his mind. he probably thinks abt curly too & if he'll ever be tough enough to be his second in command. tim really wants him to but deep down he knows that curly just isn't like him

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

tim got REALLY sick when his dad took him fishing when he was young. he puked all into the lake and they ended up not catching any fish the whole weekend (which tims dad jokingly blamed on him) it was embarrassing at the time but eventually they were able to laugh it off

Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

turn ons: hickeys, confidence, tight jeans

turn offs: he hates clingy and it will definitely end up driving him away if a girl tries to lock him down

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

a mean game of tic tac toe that probably incorporated gambling

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

very organized!! its how hes so successful in leading his gang. he knows how to keep things in order and he plans things out

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

he was very dedicated to graduating high school (mostly out of spite that no one thought he would do it) but he never really cared about his classes. he did what he had to do and then got out of there

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

still a gang leader, hopefully more respected. (can we talk abt how tim sees himself as still living and curly has just kinda accepted that he probably wont be.,,...no.,,,,.....ok)

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

once again his life revolves around his gang. he doesnt see it not working out, so he doesnt plan for anything else

What is their biggest regret?

he has two ok: one is not going on that last fishing trip with his dad. he'd gives almost anything to spend that one weekend with him again. the other is not being hard enough on curly and not toughening him up as much as he could have. he knows his brother is tough, but hes also got a soft side and tim hates it bc he knows it'll ruin his brother

Who do they see as their best friend?

his second in command, danny!!! theyve been friends since elementary school and hes the one guy tim can always fall back on

Their worst enemy?

the leader of the river kings most likely. they're his gangs biggest threat

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

he'd definitely be the one to fix the problem, even tho he most likely didnt cause it. he'd be calm about it though and just kinda move on

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

if it were angela, curly, or his mom dying he'd lose it in anger. i dont see him as sulking or mourning over their death, he'd just get super angry and destructive

Most prized possession?

his dads old fishing hat !! he keeps it tucked away in his closet, but he never wears it

Thoughts on material possessions in general?

he doesnt care about them since he never really had them growing up

Concept of home and family?

tim is very family oriented and would do almost anything to protect them (except his stepdad, but tim doesnt consider him family. and half the time hes protecting his siblings and mom from their stepdad anyway)

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

VERY private. he doesnt share anything too personal bc he doesnt wanna give someone the power of having something to hold against him

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

he loves movies and could watch them all day, but he'd end up feeling too unproductive

What makes them feel guilty?

nothing he literally has 0 feelings

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

analytical by far !!! he likes to think of the long term effects on a decision

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

type a

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

relaxing with his friends. while he loves leading a gang he still likes to just chill w the guys like they did in high school. it reminds him of better times

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

superiority complex for sure. in his eyes he is The Best

How misanthropic are they?

its not that he doesnt like humankind, its just the rich people. they look down on him so he does the same. he could get along easily with other greasers as long as theyre not in a gang and threatening his streets

Hobbies?

cards, pool, drinking

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

he graduated high school! he values self education more though bc he's taught himself everything he needs to know to be successful

Religion?

atheist i guess. i dont think he believes in god but he also just doesnt think about it

Superstitions or views on the occult?

not superstitious at all

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

deeds. words are pointless to him bc he knows most people will think he's just bluffing

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

he would never.,,,...but i guess if he did it'd be with someone who could calm him down. in his eyes the whole world revolves around the gang, so they'd have to make him see that theres more to life than that. i can see him falling for someone innocent and kind and non judgemental. opposites attract u know

How do they express love?

very weird and awkward ways.....like he doesnt really know what hes doing (because he doesnt) he'd give mumbled compliments and hold your hand only if you're in private and try to take you somewhere nice but hes dressed too poorly and so people look at him and he gets annoyed and yall end up leaving but hey its the thought that counts right

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

he fights very smoothly. he moves quickly and thats always his advantage

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

nope. he thinks he's invincible

#someone fuckign stop me next time i reblog a headcanon meme im SORRY #long post

27 notes · View notes

3one3 · 7 years ago

Text

The Sequel - 868

Post-race

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Why did you change your mind and decide you could stay another night?”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“That isn’t why.”

“If you know why, then why ask?”

“I like to hear you say you don’t want to leave me.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“I like to hear you mean it.”

“I like to hear you talk about something other than collecting tokens that reassure your ego.”

“Why are you so sour tonight? I know you didn’t get off last night but this time you did.”

“Is this another one to which you already know the answer?”

“No.”

“Brown liquor and cigarettes.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well you should.”

“Stop being like this.”

“Ha! Okay enough. I can’t be serious with your horrendous English accent. Role playing is over for the night.”

“Thank god. You’re much more fun as yourself. And your accent is just as horrendous.”

“It is not! My lords and ladies English is brilliant. I should have been an actress.”

“Pfffffffffffft. You’re hilarious.”

“Stop touching my knee like that or I’ll get cigarette ash all over you.”

As luck would have it, or maybe the opposite of luck, depending on point of view, all flights out of Milan were delayed several hours due to a security concern, and some were cancelled outright. Christina and Juan valiantly volunteered to be re-booked on Monday flights instead of insisting on seats on late night flights to Germany and the UK. Neither of them was ready to say goodbye yet anyway. They picked a different hotel, got a nicer, more cozy room, and spent the night in- in bed, to be specific.

The race didn’t go well for their Ferrari hosts. Mercedes claimed the 1-2 victory more than half a minute ahead of Sebastian’s “Red 5”, and took with it a small lead over the German in the drivers’ championship. His biggest admirer was most disappointed about the finish, but also a little bummed about the lack of action during the race. Red Bull Racing’s Daniel Ricciardo, the most smiley person in the paddock and near universally liked, made one big-balls pass near the end and that was about it for on-track excitement. The atmosphere during the podium ceremony was amazing though, and all in all it was a fantastic day out. It wasn’t a terribly exhausting experience, but the rider wanted bed over any additional exploration of Milan. She wanted pillows, and TV, and snuggles, and an opportunity to speak endlessly about everything that happened during the day.

Juan had no objections to a night in, especially when his Formula 1 friend took playful teasing to a different place and offered up a much, much different kind of lovemaking than the night before. They were both famished after that and their consideration of going out for a bite to eat lasted less time than the gap between Lewis Hamilton and the first Ferrari. Caesar salad and tagliatelle with Bolognese ragout on their spacious terrace was the move. There was a metal table with two chairs out there, as well as a nicely cushioned wicker loveseat. That was where Christina flexed her nonexistent acting chops and true flair for the dramatic. She suggested a bit of role playing while she enjoyed a cigarette and a glass of wine. She was absolutely delighted when the person on the other end of the room service extension said he could send a cigarette up for her with dinner, and then enamored when three were actually delivered, in a shot glass with a hotel matchbook and ashtray.

“I watched so much of that show that my conscience had an English accent,” the rider smiled at the footballer whose shoulder she was leaning on. There was just a little bit of her first cigarette left glowing in her right hand.

“Does it have a German accent when you’re home for a long time?” He had slightly more wine left in his glass than she had cigarette. They’d been debating ordering a second bottle when Christina broke out her Common Tongue.

“No. It’s not like it had an English accent when I lived in London,” she giggled. “It’s the dramatic dialogue. I keep wanting to braid my hair too.”

“So what is the verdict? More Malbec? Something else?”

“Nah.” She sat up and shook her head, took a final long pull on her Marlboro, and then stretched to stub it out on the ashtray on the wide, flat arm of the sofa. Her wine was on the floor, so she collected that before barging her way back into the Spaniard’s personal space and installing herself under his arm. It was placed over her shoulder for him, and she reached across her chest to hold his hand. “I don’t want to be drunk. We have to get up early.” Her nose wrinkled up and her eyes narrowed. Juan took a breath as if to begin saying something, and was cut off. “I don’t wanna go home.”

“Why not?”

“I have to ride more and watch less Jon Snow.”

“Poor cariña.”

“Also I miss you all the time.” Christina brought his right hand to her lips to give it an appreciative, sweet smooch, and then let go so that she could switch hands with her glass. He slowly flattened his palm on her sternum and slid it down into her shirt, which happened to be his. It was mostly unbuttoned, and there was nothing underneath. Happily there was nothing on it either. The borrower was very careful not to spill tomato sauce on it.

“Go home and figure out what the next target is. You don’t want to go around rudderless for too long.” The Chelsea man paused for a sip of the acidic, spicy wine, and used the tips of his fingers to lift his friend’s breast from the bottom and kind of squeeze it around in a circle. “I think I would like another bottle of this. You don’t have to drink it.”

“But I’d have to get up for you to order it and I don’t wanna.”

“You’re cold, and we should go inside anyway. I don’t trust your guess that the neighboring rooms are unoccupied.”

“I’m not cold. My nipple is all pointy because your palm is touching it. And if it weren’t then it wouldn’t matter if anyone in the next room decided to step out onto their balcony.”

“Shall I stop?”

“Of course not. Nice use of “shall” though.”

“Nice dodge on new targets.”

“I like ruderlessness.” Christina’s knees were bent and her feet were flat on the loveseat cushion, and her best friend was a good pillow, but it was hard to sit still. She crossed her right foot over her left thigh and rolled her ankle around. Juan switched the breast with which he idly played.

“You are a girl who lives for missions and goals and challenges. Rudderlessness feels good for now, but it won’t soon.”

“Thank you, old wise one. What do you suggest?”

“A goal has to come from you. You have to have passion inside for it, or you won’t do it well. What are you passionate about?”

“Winning. I don’t think it matters that I’ll be winning just for the sake of winning now rather than winning to make sure I got into the Olympic team. It’s a shame my passion is so self-serving. You’re passionate about helping kids. I want to help kids too, but I must not be passionate about it because I can never seem to get my shit together on that. I owe you money, by the way. I get a big bonus from the federation for the Olympics. I have to remember to get Tim to send you your 1%.”

“I’m like the mafia. I take a cut of everything.”

“If I’m paying protection money, who am I getting protection from? You’re already the most dangerous thing in my life.” Dangerous and divine. Boob massage and Malbec may be my favorite wine pairing, Christina sighed to herself. She let her head tilt back even further, lifting her chin. I like Milan in September. What a wonderful night. For how long can my home and my family be the work week, like a job, and traveling with Juanin be my weekends? How long is that sustainable?

“You’re the most dangerous thing in your life.”

“But you’re my weapon of choice.” She lifted her eyes as far as they would go so that she could almost see Juan.

“Well done, baby girl.” He nodded his head and raised his glass to his clever companion. He’d highlighted something that always existed in the background, slightly grayed out. The two of them connected intellectually on a level that André and his wife did not. He had a different kind of mind, and extended metaphors weren’t his thing. It wasn’t because he was dumb, or small minded, or lacking creativity. That just wasn’t his thing. He liked to be direct. Christina always maintained that his style of play on the pitch was identical to all he did in life, and that the same was true for Juan. The Spaniard was undoubtedly the more creative footballer, and the more subtle, precise- but he had the ability to be up front and direct too. Many a manager appreciated his instinct and ability for delivering an immediate, early ball into the box, and he wasn’t one of those guys who want the assist more than the goal. He took shots. Sometimes André thought only of the shots, and that was inherent in his nature, not just his boots. His girl would never dream to say he wasn’t an intellectual match for her in terms of capacity. She was very aware that they were complementary in that way instead, which to her was no worse or no better than matching. Sometimes she wondered, however, if she required a complement and a match, and if that explained why she needed both the tall, blonde, goofy, sweet, hilarious, cuddly attacking midfielder and the petit, brown-haired, intellectual, clever, gentlemanly, considered attacking midfielder. She had contrast when she wanted it, and comparison when she wanted that too.

“You also look cuter in very tiny jeans,” Christina mumbled absently, turning her head to rub her cheek on the arm resting over her shoulder and down her front. Juan was very warm, and his skin against her face made her realize she actually was cold outside, what with having nothing on but the white button up he wore to dinner with her the night before. He at least had some very skinny jeans on with his t-shirt.

“What about jeans?”

“Nothing. Let’s go inside.”

“Why? You just said-“

“Winter is coming.”

“Ugh. I can’t wait ‘til you’re too busy to watch any more of that show!” The footballer let go of her breast to clap her mouth shut for just a second.

“Rudderlessness suits me, babe. It might be a long wait,” she retorted once he let go again. She also replaced his hand inside the shirt.

“You’ll run out of episodes eventually. Rudderlessness isn’t a word, also.”

“I’ll write my own episodes just like I make my own words.”

“Do you really want to go in or were you just waiting the whole time to say winter is coming?”

“Both. Neither. I don’t know. I don’t care.” One World Cup Champion did a curl up, put her glass down, and turned around on her hands and knees to address another, not just face to face but essentially nose to nose. “If we go back inside...” Christina touched her nose to the side of Juan’s and then touched both of her lips to his.

“What, baby girl?” he inquired in a sympathetic sort of way when all of those lips parted enough for words to fit between.

“Can we...”

“Hmm?”

“Watch the next episode on my computer?”

“I’m leaving.”

“You love me!”

“Your computer isn’t even here.”

“No, it’s not, but your tongue is, and I think it could entertain me equally.”

“You want me to lick your pussy so you can say “You know nothing, Jon Snow”?”

“Fuck, how much of this show have you actually seen? I thought you didn’t watch it?”

“I spend more time in hotels with guys than I do with you.”

“I see.”

“I’m going inside. I want to get another bottle of this.” Juan fit his wine between them for a sip and the obsessive girl in his shirt got up to stretch and wiggle everything.

“Back to bed, babe?”

“Mhm.”

“I wasn’t joking about the tongue part, by the way.”

“Does André not go down on you anymore?”

“He does. He’s just not as good at it.”

“I remember when you didn’t want me to.” He laughed and kneaded her shoulders on the way inside. They left their dirty plates and bowls and glasses out there. Whoever delivered the next bottle of wine would take care of that.

“I remember when I just didn’t know I wanted you to.”

“There are other things I can help you learn to want,” the Spaniard whispered devilishly in her ear, one hand trying to find her butt in the tails of the shirt. Christina scurried away and headed for the bathroom.

“I’m never going to want that,” she reassured him, laughing. But I might be okay with his tongue visiting that area again. But then again, I don’t really want his tongue in my mouth after that, and there’s really no way to guarantee that that’s the last thing that happens. The rider gathered up the excess shirt to inspect herself in the full-length mirror. I’m still puffy. Maybe I like spending time with him so much because he somehow keeps me in a state of permanent arousal. Ha. Her fingers patted around between her legs to make sure her swollen spots weren’t also damp. I don’t want to be used-looking, she thought, narrating her inspection. If you’re going to put your tongue all over a vagina, you probably want it to look neat and tidy and fresh, and not like you just fucked it 7 different ways with your dick. Hmmm-I wonder...I wonder if it’s noteworthy that he didn’t cum inside me before, given what we talked about this morning. I know sometimes he just enjoys seeing my butt covered in jizz, but... Christina turned on her toes and checked out her behind in the mirror too- not for evidence of Juan’s earlier artwork, but for general condition. She liked to make sure it was still perky and cellulite-free. He called to her from somewhere near the closed door to ask if she wanted anything else from room service, and she told him she did not. Not unless the menu offers direction, or a target.

Having a totally non-illicit affair still required certain privacy protections, so she donned a bathrobe on the belief that it would look less suggestive of crimes than strutting around in front of the room service guy in Juan’s shirt. He arrived with Juan’s wine and a couple of chocolate truffles while she was out on the terrace saying goodnight to André. That wasn’t a particularly nice phone call for her. She felt guilty, firstly, for having such a nice time with his old friend. She felt almost morose when she thought about how nonsensical their triangle really was. It wasn’t as if she chatted with her husband and thought about how much she loathed him and didn’t want to go back to him. She even meant it when she told him she missed him. But she couldn’t reconcile that with the happiness she experienced with the Spaniard, nor think of a single positive or proactive reason why she stayed. Her arguments were all defensive- she would miss André too much, she couldn’t bear to see him with another woman, it would be terrible for Lukas, they’d just built a big and beautiful estate, he was struggling with football, he would look like a loser to everyone when they found out she left him for Juan, again, etc. None of the reasons were “I’m too in love with him,” or “I can’t live without him,” or “he makes me feel good about life”. They talked until the room service waiter finished walking back and forth to her terrace to load the dirty stuff onto the cart, and then Christina walked rather dejectedly back inside and plopped on the bed beside her friend and his fresh glass of vino.

“Thirsty?” he asked. He had his phone in his hand, and it had much of his attention but not all.

“No.”

“What’s the matter? You look like you mean your frown for the first time all day.”

“Who you talking to?”

“Taylor.”

“When was the last time you fucked her?”

“Funny. She asked the same about you last week.”

“And what did you say?”

“The same thing I’ll say to you now- last week.”

“You didn’t!”

“Which?”

“Either.”

“No, of course I didn’t,” the Chelsea man laughed. “Which would make you more violent? If I fucked her or if I told her about us?”

“You know the answer.”

“Ah, not this game again, cariña.”

“No game.” The expat shook her head and let the temporary fire extinguish from her eye. She’d been frowning about the guilt and confusion, and then anxious and excited about Juan’s incendiary joke about sleeping with Taylor and exposing their relationship. It was almost funny to her, in a sick and ironic sort of way. Her whole body seized upon the opportunity for such high drama. She was very glad to have all of those fast-cycling emotions gone just as quickly as they’d arrived. She curled herself up and hugged the player’s arm. “Did you get the same Malbec again?” And what ARE you talking to Taylor about, she added, peeking at his phone, which he put to sleep nearly instantaneously with the movement of her eye.

“Yeah, it’s very nice. You don’t want?”

“No thank you.” Christina yawned and released her hold in favor of getting comfortable on her own, with pillows and without the bulky bathrobe. “What’s up with Taylor?”

“She’s moving to Montreal, to write.”

“You’ll miss her.”

“For sure.”

“If I could do away with any one thing in the world, I think I would choose missing people, and places, and things.”

“I like missing you. Don’t look at me like that.” Juan grinned and shook his head at the deeply skeptical look he got. His girlfriend settled on her side and pulled the comforter up to her chin. It was entirely in her space since he’d cleared a big place for himself before. “When I miss you I know I’ll get to see you. I know I have something good coming. It reminds me that I’m guaranteed some future good feeling because when I see you then the terrible feeling of missing you so much will go away. I don’t like missing my grandfather, because I know it doesn’t go away. Missing you is fine.”

“How many of the poems in your super secret book of poetry are about me?”

“All of the ones that aren’t about football and nature.”

“How many is that? If you had to put a percentage on it,” Christina smirked.

“About 95%.”

“Really?” Her heart and eyes grew in equal proportion and that made the Spaniard laugh hysterically.

“No.”

“Boo, you whore.”

“I won’t say how many are for you. You have to wait until it’s published,” he teased, leaning over into her face.

“I asked how many are about me, not for me.”

“I know all about you. Why would I need to write it down, hm?”

“I dunno, dude. I’ve said this poetry thing is weird all along.” She booped his nose and stole his drink for a comparison sample.

“I write for you so that you know things...in a nicer way than I could tell you or you could come to learn.”

“If you can write it down you can say it.”

“Some things read better than they sound.”

“I like the sound of you unzipping your pants. Can you take some clothes off and get in the blanky? No jeans in the blanky.”

“As you are well aware, these jeans have only buttons.” Juan turned his nose up snootily at her and snatched his glass back, nearly sloshing the Malbec out on the white sheets. He made no move to get up and remove his pants. Christina stared blankly at his upper arm for a moment, lost in a memory. The first time I ever had sex, I had been wearing jeans with a button-fly and I felt so sexy when he unbuttoned them. It was super ridiculously low-rise pants days back then, so every button was like...within bikini wax confines. I’m pretty sure absolutely nothing that made me feel sexy or turned me on back then still does, and none of the things that do now did then. If you can grow out of a lover, and surely you can, because we all grow and change as sexual beings, is it also possible to grow out of a lover who is more than just a lover? She was thinking about André, and the drought of epic sexual experiences with him. “Sleepy?”

“I’m always sleepy.”

“If I take off my jeans and get in the blanket with you are you going attach yourself to my side and go to sleep, or are you going to stay awake and chat with me longer?”

“Which do you prefer?”

“I prefer you naked in my arms.”

“That can be arranged.” Christina de-cocooned herself from the ivory duvet and sat up to unbutton the crisper white shirt the rest of the way and toss it in the general direction of a chair across the room. It landed on the floor. She then set herself on the Chelsea man’s lap and borrowed his glass again for another taste of the nice red. Two nicer palms arrived at the sides of her butt and traveled slowly north along her curves. “In one of the post-Olympics press things some interviewer asked me if I’m going to Disneyland, I guess because I’m really American? Some football player made a famous thing out of saying he was going to Disneyland after he won the Super Bowl. Anyway, I said I have no interest in that, so he asked me if I could go anywhere in the world, where would it be. I can’t even remember what I said, but I know what I thought.”

“Where do you want to go, baby girl?” Those hands pulled her down some when they arrived at her shoulder blades, and Juan sat up some so that he could kiss at her neck.

“Havana. With you. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Really American or not, you have an EU passport now. You can go to Cuba whenever you want.” He leaned back against the pillows between him and the headboard and let his hands take over at her neck. They gently kneaded, and passed over skin slowly, even more delicate still.

“I can’t do anything whenever I want. I had to negotiate terms just to come here.”

“What did you give up?”

“My Ferrari. I told him he can drive it while I’m away.”

“Very generous.”

“Let’s go to Havana. You can take pictures of me posing in front of cars from the 50’s with your hipster camera.”

“I have the international break. Book the tickets; I’ll go.” He smiled at her, but her darkened blues were very sad, and unsettled, and she said nothing for an eternity in intimate conversation time. He touched her face to try to improve upon that problem, and the second his thumb applied the hint of downward pressure beneath the apple of her cheek, a small but slow moving tear dripped out and streaked down to meet his fingertip, leaving wetness all the way. His brows pinched together, and for once, Christina thought, her Special Juan appeared utterly confused.

“What?” he asked.

“I want to spend the next part of my life going on adventures with you and not caring about rudders or headings. That’s all I actually want. I don’t know how to do that. All I know is winning. Trying to win, wanting to win, telling others how to win, and winning. Needing to win. What do you do when you don’t care anymore about the only thing you know how to do, and you want to go do something else? What do you do when the life you’ve built to support the only thing you know how to do isn’t suited to the something else? What do you do when you want to do something else with someone else? What do you do when you have a two-year-old son, an unhappy husband, 7 horses owned by 6 different people, three employees, two students, and their cumulative expectations of you and all you really want to do is go be happy with a gallingly handsome, caring man from Spain and your Olympic champion Holsteiner?”

“You hire a professional.”

“Professional what?”

“Therapist, or attorney. You choose.”

0 notes

cheshirecaine · 8 years ago

Text

Family Man [fic]

Hal stumbled down the steps, wobbling as his toes clenched for purchase and flapping his sleeved arms to maintain his balance. Damian looked up his nose at him from beside his father and the rest of the Bats. He stared at the side of Bruce’s head, questioning his taste, even as Bruce stared at the monitors in front of him. Bruce narrowed his eyes, focussing in on a section of the main screen like a camera lens. The keyboard keys clicked as his fingers tapped them at an erratic pace. The footage enlarged on screen and he zoomed into a corner of the video surveillance. He played the short clip again, this time with the reflection of the witness’ more pronounced. His mouth movements were blurred and none of them could make out any clear words. He switched to a visual display of the audio, filtering out any background noise, before turning back. He replayed the clip and the Bats leaned forwards, concentrating harder. The screen turned to static mid-speech and Bruce rewound once more. “Scott Kohr? Kore? Did the witness know any Scotts?” Tim asked, his cowl leaving only the turn of his mouth visible to show his apprehension. Jason narrowed his eyes. “No. He was friends with a lot of scum, but Johnny boy didn’t know any Scotts.” “You sure about that, Red? Just ‘cause he worked in your territory ‘doesn’t mean you know all of his friends,” Stephanie pointed out, her hood pulled down—unlike Tim’s—and her expression betraying her disbelief. “I know that,” Jason responded, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “Except he’s– he was one of my informants. As a precaution, he told me everything from his mum’s surgery dates to”—he waved a prompting hand—“the names of everybody he ran across. Fat lot of good it did him though. Booted out of the military for a bullet wound and now he’s in a medical coma.” Stephanie looked like she was about to carry on anyway, so Jason moved his hands from beside his guns and crossed them across his chest into a position that screamed back down. Barbara cast them a too-casual glance, turning back to Bruce. “Why did the CCTV cut out?” “Faulty wiring,” Bruce answered, his steepled fingers casting a shadow over his face. Tim tugged his cowl off his head, pulling a hand through his hair in an acquired tic. “I’ll get on that later. After we’ve dealt with this, and after I’ve gotten ahead on this month’s Neon Knights paperwork.” Dick dropped a hand on his shoulder, dragging his hand up his nape through his own hair. “Don’t worry about that right now. It’s more important to focus on whoever he was talking about.” He addressed the last to Bruce, before turning to Jason. “Do you have any clue what he was talking about, Jason?” Jason considered. If the situation had been less serious and less personal, he would have been in more of a mood to bask in their dependency on him. “. . . He was off his meds.” Bruce spun around in his chair. “He took his prescriptions regularly without fail. And he looks pretty steady, considering the circumstances.” “He’d finished his last dose already, so he was planning on picking up his prescriptions on the way home. And nothing says that without his meds he immediately switches to jumping at shadows. He gets overwhelmed; he’s not getting high on Fear Toxin.” “Tt. You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier, Todd?” Jason knew Damian would have something to say. “I didn’t know earlier. The only way it could make sense is if he was being chased a whole hour longer than everybody here predicted.” Dick latched onto Damian to hold him back. Barbara pulled a handheld from her bag, plugging the USB cable into the mainframe. “If that’s the case, it’s a good thing we’re all here. It’s a bigger problem than we realise.” Bruce leaned backwards in his chair to give her better access to the computer keys. “This level of preparation is unorthodox. And it explains a lot about why all the criminals in Gotham have been acting all weird lately. Like they know something we don’t.” She stopped typing for a blink, then started up again, her fingers striking the keys with undeserved vengeance. “The only problem is . . .” “They were right,” Bruce sat up straighter and joined her, processing her searches and setting up his own algorithms. The computer let out a chirp, signalling the search’s end. Dick’s eyebrows shot up. “I know we were expecting a lot of hits–” “But that’s a lot of hits,” chimed in Stephanie, her own gaze affixed like his to the number emblazoned in red across the screens. “The sooner we start narrowing them down, the quicker this is over.” Tim’s words weren’t as comforting as he thought. In all fairness though, his forehead was creased in that way it got when he realised he was going to spend full days with minimal sleep. Hal was still perched on the stone stairs. He took a leap to the ground and slunk towards them with an air of practiced innocence. “Hey, guys—I didn’t know Scott Cawthon was visiting Gotham!” In that moment, the Bat family had one mind, and only one thought. What? “If I’d known he was visiting, I’d have gotten some autographs for my nieces and nephews!” said Hal, watching the looped video shifted to a corner of the centre screen. “What?” None of them could tell you for sure who or which of them asked the question. “They’re huge fans. It’s kinda creepy. How can they not be scared? Some of them haven’t even hit puberty yet!” Bruce stopped typing, and stared intently at the main screen. “I suppose it’s not the worst thing in the world—better than shooter games or, doing drugs, I guess?” Bruce turned his gaze on Hal. “What?” Damian slammed a fist on the desk and barked out a response before Bruce could speak. “Who is this Scott Cawthon? And why do you know him?” “Oh, please.” Hal rolled his eyes. “As if none of you know who Scott Cawthon is—Wait. If he travelled to Gotham, that wouldn’t exactly be publicised . . . Have you guys been stalking Scott Cawthon? ‘Cause I get it—I wanna know if he’s actually sticking to deadlines with this one—but there’s such a thing as boundaries.” Another anonymous “What?” “Sometimes I worry for the younger kids, my older nieces seem to waver when it comes to morality. But, then again. Isaac and Natasha said that they couldn’t be scared because their favourite uncle is Green Lantern . . . I am not looking forward to when they get old enough to start lying. “I wish Cass was here.” “Oh . . . Isn’t that her on the ceiling?” Hal pointed upwards. And lo and behold, there she was. She swooped her way down and shot the others an unimpressed look. "Detectives.” They winced. “Do you think he’d be upset if I asked for an autograph? And maybe a photo? Might even buy him a drink as thanks for the whole”—he flopped his hand over in the air—“everything.” He tilted his head; considering. “Maybe I’ll get him to spill some info about the next one.” His lips quirked mischievously. “The kids’ll go ballistic.” “Explain, Jordan!” Damian stared Hal down through the lenses of his mask. “Scott Cawthon’s in town?” Hal’s voice rose in pitch at the end—it dawned on him that he seemed to be on a different page. “Who. Is. He?” “The game designer. Creator of the Five Nights at Freddie’s series. Well, franchise.” Damian huffed, still visibly fuming. Hal looked from him to the others. “Is this a crime thing?” “Got it in one, little green nightlight.” Tim held a hand over his face, looking as weary as a man three times his age. Damian flung his head to glare at Stephanie. He twisted back to bark out something derogatory at Hal. Jason stepped in front of him, blocking his view. “You know anything that could help us find the shitheads that got my guy?” “How low you’ve fallen, Todd+. You expect him to help us?” Jason shrugged. “I care more about making things right by Joel than I do about your ego, kid.” He ignored Damian’s scoff and spoke to cut him off. “Do you know why someone would link Scott Cawthon to some gun running?” “Apparently, a ton of Gotham kids are fans too. Louise said her pen pals in Gotham had gotten together with a bunch of kids from other schools to deck themselves in FNAF stuff for Friday the 13th. ‘Cause, you know, horror. There’re supposed to be a few schools in a bunch of districts getting involved. I think some of the richer kids are buying toys to send to the others that morning. Charity’s a good thing, but I’m guessing the guns’ll be smuggled in the trucks and the toys.” “. . . Thanks, Hal.” “No problem, Jason.” “I’ll send you guys any intel I can scrounge up in the next few hours.” Jason called over his shoulder, directing his words at Bruce mostly. Bruce had already opened up a dozen forums, and was scanning them to isolate any posts talking about the day. “Oh!” Hal called out to Jason. “And maybe check the sewers around those schools too.” He regarded Jason’s quirked eyebrow. “They needed places they could get into near their school to store stuff without anyone seeing it—janitors and teachers get more vigilant in the lead up to Halloween. Besides, what kids use warehouses?” Jason acknowledged his words with a nod, then slammed his helmet onto his head. “I’ll come with you. I need to stop off downtown anyway, and I’ll liaise with some of the clean police officers.” Tim trotted over to him, drawing his cowl over his face. He swung onto the bike behind Jason. Jason revved his bike, and they screeched out of the cave. “I’ll go butter up my dad.” “I’ll go with you, Babs.” “Aren’t dads supposed to hate their daughter’s exes? It’s like my dad likes you more than me.” “At least me being there will justify talking about police work for an hour straight.” “I know.” Dick rested a hand on Damian’s shoulder, urging him upstairs, as he and Barbara made to leave. Stephanie turned to Cass, the only one left besides Bruce and Hal, trying to avoid the growing tension. “Feel like getting a burger, Cass?” “Cheeseburgers. With fries.” “Deal!” Steph briefly linked their pinkies. The cave was left in silence as they followed in the wake of Jason and Tim. Hal smacked his lips. “So? You planning on going anywhere too?” Bruce spun around in his chair and steepled his fingers. “They can investigate this on their own—they’re enough to cover all of Gotham easily. I can provide them with back-up from here. It’s more important to collate all the info on this I can get from their correspondence.” “Do you really need to be here to do that? Or can the computer do it on its own?” “The search is automatic and according to protocols I’ve already set in place.” “So, in a word: no.” “No then.” “And Alfred can cover them from here. Right?” “I suppose.” Bruce rubbed at his temple. “I don’t look forward to co-ordinating all of them.” Hal smiled—he always enjoyed getting Bruce to slip out from under the professional burden of Batman. “So . . . you’re not busy then?” Bruce quirked a brow in an almost exact copy of Jason. Just less objectively endearing, thought Hal. But subjectively very endearing. “I’m just saying, we could spend the rest of the day together. In bed. Or the shower. Whichever you prefer really.” “It’s the middle of the afternoon, Hal.” Bruce still had some resistance up, turning back to the computer and ignoring Hal sashaying his way over to him. “I just got up. Doesn’t that count as mid-morning sex?” He leaned over Bruce. “I’m only saying, you don’t want to be working and I’m giving you an out. Don’t you miss seeing me naked?” He planted a quick kiss on Bruce’s lips, then spun away, dashing out of reach. Nobody moved for a second. Bruce leapt to his feet, smashing his lips to Hal’s and nearly knocking the man over. Hal held Bruce’s face and slowed the pace, nipping and biting and sucking wetly. Bruce lined Hal’s neck with kisses, gently scraping his teeth along the skin to mark his way. Hal moaned, tossing his head back to give Bruce more room. Seeking out Bruce’s mouth, he drew forwards again. Bruce caught his lips and licked his way into Hal’s mouth . . . Then he ripped away from Hal and stomped back to the computer. Hal looked at Bruce like he’d just whispered ‘Hail Hydra’ in his ear. Bruce jammed his finger onto a few keys, then sighed as confirmation messages popped up on screen. He thundered his way back to Hal and let Hal leap into his arms like the overly spoilt cat he wished he could be. Bruce carried him to the lift, holding Hal securely to avoid jostling him as he stepped out into the study. Bruce pressed the clock entrance shut with his foot and carried Hal to his room, letting the man flop onto the bed unceremoniously and stretch across the sheets. “You’d think you were the one doing the heavy lifting.” Hal opened an eye. “What can I say? I’m still tired.” He pulled himself up. “And whose fault is that?” Bruce smirked. “What can I say? You were the one who wanted something to make up for your time away.” Hal collapsed back onto the pillows. “Fine. It’s my fault. Now punish me by taking the lead.” “I can think of better things.” Suffice it to say, Hal didn’t have any more energy when they were done. . . . But enough to agree to storing the footage of their tryst deep within Bruce’s archives where none of the kids would find it and where it would remain unwatched . . . until the next week, when Hal returned from another brief spell away on Lantern business.

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