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thevoidstaredback · 11 months ago

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How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Communication is good. It's wonderful, even! But screaming matches? Especially ones that last this long, aren't healthy in the slightest. In fact, all they do is damage relationships. So, after convincing Barbra and Tim to go upstairs, promising that he'd be up in a few minutes with Dick, he went back to where Bruce and Dick were screaming at each other.

Nothing had been thrown yet. Small mercies.

God, Danny hated being a mediator. Why couldn't people just work out their problems by talking? It'd make his life so much easier. Was that so hard to do? Too much to ask? Apparently.

"And you-!" Bruce rounded on Danny the second he closed the door behind him. "You don't get to come into my house and-"

"Let me stop you right there, Mister Wayne." A few days into his running away, Danny discovered a new power. He can't control it, but sometimes, when he's angry or needs people to shut up, the inside of his throat goes cold and his eyes narrow. It's really cool, from Danny's perspective, and pun fully intended. Something about Mister Wayne had brought that power to the surface, and thank the gods for that because Danny really needs to be listened to right now. "I told you earlier that my name was not a fight you wanted to pick. I think I should reword that. I am not a person you want to pick a fight with."

Bruce narrowed his eyes, meeting Danny's glare with his own. "Is that a threat?"

"Yes, Mister Wayne, that was a threat. And you can hold me to it. I will win any and every fight you try to pick with me."

Dick kept glancing between the two. He had a bad feeling about these two interacting like this, but something was stopping him from getting them apart.

"I have your name and your face. It won't be too hard to get you arrested for several crimes."

"Framing a child, Mister Wayne? Good luck with that. I don't exist anymore. Besides, I can threaten the same thing about Batman, and that holds significantly more weight than anything you could do to my name."

"If you're not scared, then you'll give me your whole name."

"That was a horrible fish for information, Mister Wayne. You're slipping. You must be getting rusty in your old age."

"Danny-"

"Dick." Danny held his hand out to his - on paper - responsible adult, "C'mon, Tim and Barbra are waiting for us upstairs."

Danny lead Dick out of the room, Bruce staying behind and obviously glaring at the back of Danny's head. When the door shut, Dick sighed, every bit of tension he hadn't felt melting off of him. "Sorry about him."

Danny shook his head. "Don't apologise, Dick, you didn't do anything to spark that. However," he glanced at him from the corner of his eye, still holding his hand, "Screaming matches aren't going to fix anything between you two. I don't know if you even want a relationship with him, but he's right. We came into his house, so it's up to us to be polite. You may be his kid, but you are a guest in his home until you two can form some kind of positive relationship. The hostility between y'all right now? That demotes you to 'house guest' instead of 'visiting child'. Got it?"

"..yeah."

"Good. Now, Tim and Barbra are waiting upstairs; go find them."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to go apologise to Alfred."

"Alfred? Why?"

"Bruce may claim this as his house, but Alfred's the one who takes care of it. It's his haunt, so I'm gonna go apologise for almost starting a fight."

"Um, alright..?"

***

Dick found himself wandering into the room that had been given to Tim. It was bare bones and barely looked used, but that's where he found Tim and Babs. He sat next to her.

"Where's Danny?" Tim asked.

"I- He's gone to talk to Alfred for a minute."

"Oh? Why?"

"I don't..he wasn't really clear on that."

"Oh."

The three lapsed into a silence that hovered somewhere between comfortable and uncomfortable. Tim was on his bed, messing with something on his phone, smiling occasionally or chuckling softly. Dick and Barbra sat together on the couch against the wall between the two windows. None of them spoke for a while.

It was a lon twenty minutes of sitting, doing nothing. Sometimes one of them shifted, but no conversation was made.

The door opened. "Wow. Did I end up in a graveyard or something? Y'all're quieter than the dead." The three flinched back as if struck. "Sorry, that was in poor taste." He closed the door behind him and sat on the foot of Tim's bed. "Seriously, though, why're y'all so quiet?"

"Waiting for you," Tim answered, "What'd you talk to Alfred about?"

Danny waved his hand in the air as if to physically dispel the words. "Nothing you need to worry about. Good news, though, I have a standing invitation to the Manor, so.."

"Is that a good idea?" Barbra asked, "You and B, well...You didn't really.."

"Yeah," he smiled, "Alfred's given me permission, and that's all I need. I won't be going with you guys to the Bat Cave, though."

"What?" Tim's voice pitched up a bit, "Why?"

"That's Mister Wayne's haunt. Because he doesn't like me, I'm not gonna risk even thinking about going down there."

"But you'll come and go from his house?"

"Yes."

"Weird."

"I don't make the rules, Timmy." Tim snorted softly. Barbra smiled.

"I hate to be the one to bring the mood down again," Dick said, "But why were you wanting to go to the Cave?"

"I just said I wasn't."

"Yeah, but why would you ever need to go down there?"

At this, Danny looked a bit sheepish, turning to look away from the others and rubbing the back of his neck. "Alfred said we're staying the night."

"What!" Dick shot up from his seat.

"Are you coming on patrol with us?" Barbra asked Dick, her eyes expectant.

Tim grinned. "That'd be so cool! You two should totally join us!"

Dick shook his head. "I really-" He cut himself off, making the mistake of looking Barbra and Tim in the eye. He sighed. "Alright, I'll join you guys for the night. But I don't answer to Bruce."

"Yay!"

"Wouldn't expect ya to."

"What about you, Danny?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I don't do the whole vigilante thing anymore."

"'Anymore'?" Babs raised her eyebrow, "That's a story I wanna hear."

He blushed. "It's really not,"

"You'll be on comms, though, right?" Tim wondered.

"I, um.... Sure. I'll join you guys on comms."

"Yes!"

"But I'm still not going into the Bat Cave."

Part 13 Part 15

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davidobitch · 5 years ago

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Traditions | Timothee Chalamet

okay so I’m well aware I don’t ever write for Timothee Chalamet but I really wanted to write this and it didn’t seem fitting for anyone else I usually write about?? I hope you like it even though the timing is like...18 days late...oops

I didn’t proof read this so my apologies if it sounds like a 5th grader wrote it.

anything written in italics is the past! enjoy xx

3 years. 156 weeks. 1,095 days.

That’s how long you’ve spent with Timothee. You love him with everything you have inside you but things haven’t been okay lately, not for the past year almost. Neither of you wanted this to be ‘right person, wrong time’. You both tried to fight for your relationship to work out and go back to how things used to be...but that was up until last month.

Timothee has been busy with his movies and you’ve been busy with your business. With the year coming to an end, you both and to get everything done before the new year. You tried not to think that this was the end. You kept telling yourself that it was only for this month then you and Timothee could go back to working everything out. But part of you knew that maybe this really was the end.

You were just getting home from a launch party when Timothee was getting ready to leave.

“Hi,” you said quietly, dropping your purse on the table, “Another shoot?” you kept your eyes on your boyfriend, watching him go over his mental checklist of everything he needed.

Timothee nodded his head, turning in circles looking for what was probably his keys. You glanced behind him, seeing them in the other room on the coffee table.

Passing by him, Timothee followed you with his eyes hoping you weren’t walking away from him without a goodbye. He heard his keys jingle in your shot and let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, standing in front of you. His hand lingered on yours, letting his fingers trace your bones.

“Promise me you’ll be back tonight?” your stare was fixed on your intertwined hands, not wanting him to let go.

Timothee squeezed your hand before pulling away, “Of course. You know I’ll be here.”

You and Timothee always threw a New Years Eve party, it was something both of you looked forward to each year.

He gave you a quick kiss before leaving the house, letting silence seep through the walls. It hasn’t been long since you started staying at Timothee’s daily. It’s only been a year, if that, which ironically is when everything started going wrong in the relationship. Coincidence? Probably, but you refused to believe that. Most nights you couldn’t help but wonder if you moving in was the reason you guys started fighting almost weekly.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you started picking up around the place, wanting the house to be spotless by tonight.

You have sent Timothee countless texts reminding him what time people will be over and last minute things he needed to buy. It’s been three hours and you haven’t heard back from him. You assumed he was just getting caught up in shooting or discussing work stuff, but when another three hours passed by with no call or texts, you had a bad feeling he was bailing out tonight.

You texted Timmy again, another reminder of what time to be home and asking him to pick up the rest of the party stuff for you. You begged him not to be late tonight, or even just not show up at all. Time was slowly running out and you decided to just run out and buy everything yourself. On the verge of tears, you called Timothee and to your dismay...it went straight to voicemail. You tried holding in your cries as you left him yet another message, telling him tonight was make or break the relationship. It was either he shows up by midnight or you pack your bags tomorrow morning and move out. You didn’t care anymore as you let your feelings out fully for the first time in months.

You needed the drive home to clear your head and gather yourself before having to pretend your relationship is perfect.

It was just barely 9pm and you still had to hurry up and be ready by 10. You called a couple friends to come over early to help finish setting up so you can shower and look presentable.

“Thank you guys so much,” you said as you entered the kitchen where your friends were arranging the cups and drinks, “T’s been so caught up at work today. I just- I love you guys.”

“We love you of course,” your friend, Ashley says as she grabs a bottle of tequila and 3 glasses, “To a new year,” she says, raising her glass.

“To a new year,” you and your other friend say in unison.

The liquid burns as it travels down your throat, warming your entire body. You took another shot before going back to finish getting ready.

You picked out your best little black dress, wanting Timothee to see what he’s losing if he decides to not show up tonight. Your hair was curled, your face was glammed up, and you were ready to black out everything tonight.

You finished just in time for all your’s and Timothee’s friends to show up, letting the night begin.

You were about 5 tequila shots and 3 drinks in when the clock hit 11:45. You checked your phone seeing you had no calls or texts from your boyfriend. You were losing hope with every passing second and you didn’t care to hide it anymore.

You were on the balcony with your friends when your mouth started to ramble. “T isn’t coming tonight. Or at least I don’t think he is. He’s been gone for the past 15 hours and I’m pretty sure we’re breaking up tonight. Fuck we should’ve broken up a year ago. You know nothing has been the same since I moved in?” You took another drink before continuing, silently hoping your friends would cut you off any second now, “We haven’t had sex in god knows how long. I don’t get to see him for longer than 4 minutes a day. We tried so hard to make things work which was such a bullshit move.” You let out a shaky breath, knowing you were a couple words away from crying and that was the last thing you wanted to do tonight. Finishing off your drink, you closed your eyes and let the night breeze calm you down.

“We see more than you think, y/n,” Ashley says, pouring half of her cup into yours, “We just don’t say anything. You know we love you and we will continue to support you no matter what you choose to do.”

“And don’t give up on Timmy not coming just yet. He still has 5 minutes!” you sip on your drink, trying to remain optimistic. Olivia’s right, he still has time..but if he hasn’t showed up in the past 5 hours, he’s not going to in the next 5 minutes.

“I really thought he was the one, y’know?” you mutter into your cup, watching the liquid swish from side to side.

Your friends wrap their arms around you, pulling you in for a group hug. “Come on, let’s do a couple shots before the ball drops.” Olivia pulls you back inside and to the kitchen, placing 2 shot glasses in front of each of you.

“Cheers to 2021. A year of new beginnings and more memories than we will remember!” Ashley yells, bringing her glass up.

11:58. You knocked one of the shots back, allowing it to fog your brain.

“Cheers to y/n, for being the toughest bitch we know,” Olivia shouts as she raises her glass, you and Ashlet following her actions.

11:59. Another shot down.

You glanced around the room as there was 30 seconds left in the year. No tall, lanky, brown haired boy in sight. You wanted to cry and scream and run out of the house but instead, you grabbed the bottle of vodka and made your way to the balcony.

You caught your friends attention, shaking your head as if to tell them you’re fine but not to follow you. The glass door slid shut behind you as everyone started counting down.

“10!”

“Kiss me tonight,” you boldly said to Timothee, “None of our friends are single. We’re the only losers who have nobody. So be my new year’s kiss.” The first new year’s eve you and Timmy spent together. Your first year of being friends.

“9!”

“Are you going to force me into kissing you again?” Timothee jokes as he comes up behind you, almost causing you to spill your drink from scaring you.

“First of all, you can’t creep up on a girl like that!” you swatted at his chest before taking a sip of your drink, “Second of all, I didn’t force you to do anything.” Everyone around you was counting down, “Third of all,” just as the clock hit 12:00, you pulled Tim’s face to your level, gently pressing your lips to his, “absolutely.”

“8!”

You had spent the entire night by Timothee’s side. This was your first year spending New Years with just him and his hometown friends. You felt lost without your usual crew bullying you into kissing Timmy for another year. “What do you say we do this every year,” Timothee nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, placing light kisses on your skin.

You let out a giggle, confused at his choice of words, “T we do this every year already,” you turned around to face him, your hands playing with the bottom of his shirt.

“No I mean as a couple. I want you to be my girlfriend,”

“7!”

“I love you,” Timothee drunkenly yelled in your ear, causing a bright smile to spread across your face.

“You’re drunk, baby,” you rolled your eyes. Neither of you have said the L word before and this wasn’t the way you expected it to happen.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to spend another year not telling you every day.”

“6!”

“Timmy!” you yelled over the music, wrapping your arms around his waist, “You have 5 seconds to kiss me or I’m finding another boy!” you giggled as Timothee turned around in your arms, grabbing your face and pulling you into him just as the new year hit.

“5!”

You were crowded into a small corner of your friends kitchen, having been forced to spend the night with them instead of your boyfriend. Timothee was out in New York for a photoshoot and couldn’t make it home in time for your “tradition”.

“I wish you were here,” you mumbled, making a pouty face at your phone screen, “Now I have to kiss Ashley this year and that’s not fun!” You yelled, hoping she would hear you from across the way. You changed your camera to face here, showing Timothee her middle finger in the air, “See, she’s mean. And so are you for not being here.”

Your eyes wandered to the time on the stove clock, seeing as it just hit midnight.

“Happy new year, baby,” Timothee says. You look down at your phone screen to see the facetime was over. Confused as to how the call ended but you could still hear his voice, you glanced up at your friends to see them all staring at you with giddy smiles.

“Can you turn around and kiss me already?” Tears blurred your vision as you quickly spun around and jumped into your boyfriend’s arms.

“4!”

“Please please please don’t hate me,” Timothee says as he wraps his arms around you. “I didn’t realize the time and I know I fucked up, but you know I wouldn’t miss this for the world, y/n” This was the first year he almost missed being your new year’s kiss and as much as you wanted to kill him for it, you knew it wasn’t his fault.

“You’re so fucking lucky you’re cute,” you said, shaking your head and pulling on his shirt, bringing his body into yours.

“3!”

Another shot in your system, trying to rid the memories of the past 7 New Year’s Eve nights. Your mind started playing games with you. Timothee’s voice was echoing all around you, like he was actually with you.

“2!”

“Baby,” you could hear Timmy say, but you tried to push it out of your thoughts. “Please don’t ignore me. I’m so fucking sorry,” You could smell his cologne behind you as a warm touch could be felt on your wrist. Your breath was shaky as you turned to face the man behind you, hoping this was reality and you weren’t drunkenly imagining this.

“1!”

“I’m here. I’m always going to be here. For the next whatever years, I’m 100% here. No more long days without you. No more missing date nights. This is my promise to you, y/n.” Timothee says, his eyes filled with liquid.

“Happy new year!”

You threw your arms around his neck, almost falling backwards as you crashed your lips into his. “I love you, forever.” you muttered against his lips, “Thank you, T.”

*****

“Why can’t we just spend this year at home with our friends like we always do?” you asked Timothee as he pulled you out onto the balcony with him. This year he took you to Paris for New Years Eve and as grateful as you were for this mini trip, you didn’t want to break tradition.

“Because like you said, we spend every year at home with our friends. It’s never been just us.”

Ever since he promised to put more time into the relationship, everything has been almost perfect. Of course you still had your occasional fight, but that’s to be expected and it was never over anything stupid. Well...most of the time.

“I guess it would be nice to spend it alone,” you leaned your head against Timothee’s chest as you took in the site in front of you.

The hotel room had a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, dead center in front of you. You’ve seen the structure many times in the past but it was never this beautiful.

“I love you, you know that?” he whispers against your neck, his hands gently squeezing your hips.

You nodded but stayed silent, letting the music from inside fill the space around you. Timothee started to sway with you as your favorite song started to play in the background.

“I would love to assume it’s such a coincidence that Robbers is playing right now,” you smiled, teasing your boyfriend, “But I guess I should give you credit for planning this.”

Timothee takes your hand in his and spins you around into him as his other hand settles on your hip.

The two of you danced around the balcony together as your song went on and all of Paris could be heard counting down the end of the year.

“Last year I made you a promise to put more effort in. We had a hard year and I know I put you through a lot and I can’t apologize enough for that, baby. But here we are 365 days later, getting to have another new year’s kiss together. I thank you every day for forcing me to kiss you all those years ago ‘cause we both know I would have never had the balls to make the move.” Timothee’s voice was soft, barely even audible with all the other noise happening around you. “But a lot has changed since that first kiss. A lot between us but also with us separately. I never want to spend New Years, let alone any day, without you.” Timothee abruptly stopped moving and pulled away from you as fireworks were being set off all around the city. You pulled your eyes from him for a split second to watch the sky light up with different colors.

What you didn’t expect to see when you brought your attention back to him, was Timmy on one knee, with a ring being held up towards you.

“I’m making another promise to you, to love you forever, to always put you first. You’ve been my life for the past 6 years and even though we were together for only 4 of those years, I still couldn’t imagine you not being in my life. You’re my best friend. Mon amour. I want to spend every waking moment with you. I want you to yell at me when my socks are in random parts of the house. I want to have little mini versions of us running around and drawing on walls. When all my dreams come true, you’re the one I want next to me. It’s you, baby. It’s always been you. Marry me, y/n.”

Your hand flew to your mouth as you vigorously nodded your head. You didn’t give Timothee the chance to stand up before you fell to your knees in front of him, falling into his arms. “Of course I’ll marry you, T. You’re the only person I ever want to spend my life with. I love you so so much, mon amour.” You cried as you placed kisses all over his face.

#Timothy chalamet #Timothee chalamet imagine #tchal #tc #masterlist #prompt #imagine #timmy chalamet #timothee fanfic

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sohotthateveryonedied · 5 years ago

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I’ll Make a Million Mistakes

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

“Don’t worry,” Dick says, throwing his arm around Duke’s shoulders. “Everyone in this room has had their teeth knocked out at one point or another. It’s a rite of passage around here.”

“I don’t know how to tell you thith, but that doethn’t happen to normal people. We acthually prefer to keep our teeth, believe it or not.”

“Wait until you get your first major battle scar. Trust me, they’re cool.”

“Y’all need Jethuth.”

Bruce likes to think of himself as a patient man. Even more, he’d like to think it’s a trait he earned all on his own, but anyone who’s met him would testify that he inherited his patience from the man who raised him, and Bruce would have to agree. This level of restraint he possesses is an acquired skill—one that is reserved for the world’s best butlers and for fathers of six. Karen from the PTA wishes she were on Bruce’s level. His exceedingly calm temperament is the only reason Bruce doesn’t melt into a puddle on the ground now, his bones turning into a milky froth because Jesus fucking Christ, hasn’t he had a hard enough night as it is? No person should have to spend two hours solving riddles because Eddie was feeling manic tonight and then be forced to come home to human children. Duke smiles around a mouthful of bloody gauze. “In my defenth, I’ve never even had a cavity before.” “No, you just got your tooth knocked out.” “Teeth.” “What?” “Ith acthually teeth, plural. I lotht two of them.” Bruce facepalms. “Goddamn it.” He ignores the giggles from his other kids, all of whom apparently decided they needed to be present for this conversation. He’s picking his battles tonight.

“Ith not my fault!” Duke points over at Tim, standing against the Batcave’s wall minding his own business. “Ith hith fault.” “It is not. Bruce, don’t listen to him.” “Oh, yeah? Who knocked me into the railing in the firtht plathe?” “That was Jason’s fault. He’s the one who threw the football.” “Actually,” Jason chimes in, “that was Cass. I was an innocent bystander.” “Liar,” Cass says. “Don’t call me a liar.” “Liar.” “You’re the liar. She’s framing me, Bruce, I swear to god. I’ve never done anything wrong to my siblings in my entire life.” Dick makes a spluttering noise. “You once threw a pineapple at my head because I was breathing too loudly!” “And I don’t regret it one bit.” Bruce sighs. He doesn’t have the energy for this. He gently grasps Duke’s chin, being mindful of his sore jaw. “Where?” Duke pulls out the wad of gauze and opens his mouth wide. He points at the space where his front tooth used to be, then a canine on the bottom left which now consists of half a white shard. “Ith thith one and thith one.” Bruce hums. “I can get you a dentist appointment tomorrow afternoon. They’ll put a couple of caps in and you’ll be good as new.” He’ll have to rearrange a few things in his schedule. At least now he has a valid excuse to skip racquetball with Clark. There is no logical reason a bumpkin from Kansas should be better at racquetball than Bruce is, there just isn’t. “Tho my thmile ithn’t permanently ruined? Thath a relief. Thethe babieth are my betht feature,” he says, all the while bloody saliva dribbles from his lip like a deranged vampire. Best feature, definitely. “Don’t worry,” Dick says, throwing his arm around Duke’s shoulders. “Everyone in this room has had their teeth knocked out at one point or another. It’s a rite of passage around here.” “I don’t know how to tell you thith, but that doethn’t happen to normal people. We acthually prefer to keep our teeth, believe it or not.” “Wait until you get your first major battle scar. Trust me, they’re cool.” “Y’all need Jethuth.” “At least it’ll make for a good story one day,” Tim says. “Everyone loves scar stories.” Jason snorts. “People actually like death stories more, but go off I guess.” “Nobody cares that you died, Jay. Find new material.” “You want new material? Check this out.” Jason tugs down the collar of his sweater. He shows off the mostly-faded autopsy scar sliced up his torso and to his shoulders. Bruce winces. Dick yawns. “So? You got autopsied. Big whoop. Scars don’t count if you’re dead when you get them.” He tips his head down, parts a section of his hair with his fingers to show off the fresh scar on his scalp. “Talk to me when you get shot in the head.” Tim rolls his eyes. “You realize how stupid this is, right? We shouldn’t be arguing about who has the worst bodily trauma.” “Why,” Jason says, “because you know you’d lose?” “Because I’ve got you both beat.” He pulls up his t-shirt to display the surgical scar on his abdomen. “Missing spleen. Beat that.” “I lost a kidney. Kidney trumps spleen any day.” Cass rolls up the leg of her shorts to show off her bullet-riddled thigh. “Connect the dots. I win.” “But have you lost a vital organ?” Tim asks. “No.” “Spleens aren’t that vital,” Dick says. “Fuck off, at least you still have one.” “I would prefer to keep my organth,” Duke says. “Juth thaying.” “And you will,” Bruce assures him. “Probably.” “Probably?” “Look, I’m tired. We’re all tired. Can we schedule the scar contest for a later time when I’m hopefully not here to witness it?” Maybe he can ask Alfred to drug his tea from now on. At least then he can rest easy in a drug-induced slumber, knowing all the while that he’s missing the kind of petty arguments no parent should have to hear. “No one said you had to be here,” Dick says. “Anyway, Bane once slammed me against a wall and now my hip throbs when it rains.” “At least your wrist doesn’t click when you move it at the right angle.” Jason shakes his wrist next to Tim’s ear. Tim cringes. “You’re all amateurs,” a new voice says, and Bruce wants to die. Damian and Stephanie appear to have returned from patrol, still in their uniforms. “Try having your entire spine replaced.” Tim wrinkles his nose. “Great, it’s time to hear Damian talk about how much better than us he is. My favorite activity.” “Shut up, Drake. You’ve never experienced pain.” “I got blown up once! I still have burn scars all over my neck and shoulders!” “Eh. I’ve had worse.” Steph grins and holds up her left hand, just happy to be included. (Note to self: ponder whether Stephanie is secretly a golden retriever in human form.) “I have no feeling in these three fingers.” She pokes them to demonstrate. “And should I mention that I was tortured by Black Mask once? No? Because power tools were involved, in case anyone was wondering.” “Do I need to reiterate that I once died in an explosion?” “Jason. Little wing. I’m begging you to shut up about your death.” Cass points to a spot on her ribcage. “Two ribs made of metal. Got shattered during a fight. Four years old.” “My dad used to burn me with cigarettes every time I was bad, so...seven times a week, more or less.” “Oh, same!” Jason and Steph high-five. “My grandfather broke my arm in two places when I made a mistake during a training drill. He made me fight assassins for three hours straight afterward without so much as an ice pack.” Duke looks horrified. “Are you guyth okay?” “No offense, but none of you should talk unless you’ve gone through childbirth.” Stephanie rolls up the top portion of her Batgirl suit just enough to show off the scar across her lower belly. “You think getting blown up is hard? Try spending three hours in labor and having a baby ripped out of you. That’s hard.” Jason wipes away a fake tear. “Boo-hoo, someone had a baby when she was a teenager. Human reproduction doesn’t involve being beaten to death with a crowbar.” “Nobody cares that you died, Jason!” “Indeed,” Damian agrees. “Being stabbed by your clone is far worse than being caught in a little explosion. And I can take a crowbar beating in my sleep.” “I’m gonna kill him, Bruce. I’ll kill him right now. Just say the word and I’ll do it.” Bruce sighs, closing his eyes. “Duke, there are painkillers in the medicine cabinet if you need them. I’ll text you the time of your dentist appointment. The rest of you, please refrain from talking to me for the rest of the night.” Bruce walks away toward the manor, silently praying that he can forget this conversation ever happened. “Hey, who wants to see where Killer Croc bit my ass once?”

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bluejayblueskies · 5 years ago

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flour, sugar, salt

Words: 3.6k

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Relationship: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims

Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Baking, Gentle Kissing, Light Angst, Safehouse Period, No Apocalypse, cooking and baking as love languages

Summary:

It had gone like this:

“Tell me something,” Jon said, leaning his head against the curve of Martin’s shoulder.

After a moment, Martin laced their fingers together and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’ve never had a birthday cake.”

----

Jon’s never baked before, but how much harder than cooking can it possibly be?

Things do not go well.

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The cake is awful. There’s no getting around that, Jon thinks as he scowls at the misshapen lump of frosting in front of him, adorned with little yellow and blue candles that he’d found tucked in the meagre baking section of the village’s shop, right next to the boxed cake mix that Jon had hesitated in front of, his hand stalled halfway to the candles. Just add water! it had proclaimed cheerily, which in no way assured Jon that the resulting product would be anything close to edible. So, he’d retrieved the candles and moved on, collecting flour, sugar, baking powder, and the rest of the ingredients for the recipe. For beginners, it had said, and Jon had felt like a child, but he’d followed the steps anyway, doing everything exactly right.

Perhaps he should have just gone with the boxed mix. At least then the final product would have at least looked edible and not like something one would immediately toss into the bin, like Jon has half a mind to do. But the idea of not having a cake makes Jon’s stomach twist into knots, because he needs the cake. This whole thing is- is pointless without the cake, but the cake looks horrible, and—

And he’s completely forgotten to put the gołąbki in the oven. He does so now, trying to calm the shaking of his hands that is born more of frustration than anything. It really wouldn’t do to drop the main dish all over the lino, after all. Best not to ruin it more than he already has.

It had gone like this:

They’d been sitting on the couch, the flames of the fire licking at the brick edges of the fireplace as it eagerly consumed the new wood Martin had topped it off with just minutes earlier. The moment Martin had settled back onto the couch, Jon had resumed his position curled into his side, breathing a small sigh of satisfaction as warmth began to radiate throughout his body once again. Martin ran hot—hotter than Jon, anyway, whose fingers had a tendency to get so cold they burned when warmed between Martin’s hands—and the slight guilt at using Martin as his personal space heater had dissipated entirely at the small, contented noise Martin had made as he’d wrapped his arm around Jon’s shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

It had been months since the Lonely, since those first few awkward weeks in the safehouse tucked away in the Scottish highlands where Jon hadn’t been sure if loved was to be taken at face value and Martin wasn’t sure if the little touches Jon gave him were just to stave off that creeping fog that still lingered in the blue-grey of his eyes and the white-streaked curls that mirrored Jon’s own. It had been even less time since Martin had opened the front door, an excuse about needing ‘a much thicker coat, it’s bloody freezing out there’ on his tongue, to find Jon gripping a sheet of official Institute paper in a white-knuckled grip. The words calmly spilling free from his lips were silenced only once he’d slumped bonelessly in Martin’s arms, Martin’s hand still clamped firmly over his mouth and twin tear tracks streaking down both of their faces.

The statement had gone up in flames easily and without fanfare, the small strands of smoke tickling the still-blue sky that, to Jon, seemed like the second most beautiful thing in the world.

Now, there’s just this: sitting curled next to the fire, and taking long walks even as the cold of February nips at the tips of their ears, and getting to know each other through fragments of stories and brushes of pinkies and whispered confessions.

“Tell me something,” Jon said, leaning his head against the curve of Martin’s shoulder and letting his eyes fall on Martin’s hands where they gripped the edges of a notebook, curling script decorating the pages in starts and stops and marred in places with crossed-out lines. They’d established a routine after Jon had admitted one night as they lay in bed, knees curled into his chest protectively, that sometimes what Peter Lukas had said in the Lonely still played on his mind. That they barely knew each other, and that the love Jon felt so potently in his chest and his lungs and his bones was based on nothing more than a construct, something he’d tricked himself into believing was real. It had been hard to think, even harder to say; Jon had squeezed his eyes tightly shut and had held his breath.

Martin’s hand had found his and squeezed it tight. “Tell me something, then,” Martin had said, a tentative smile on his lips. And so, Jon had.

Now, Jon’s hands were relaxed as he played absently with the cuff of Martin’s jumper sleeve. It was one of his favourites, a mustard-yellow one that was slightly oversized on Martin and consumed Jon entirely every time he managed to steal it from Martin’s side of the closet. Martin hummed and closed the notebook, turning his hand over and letting Jon’s hand rest against his palm; after a moment, he laced their fingers together and gave a gentle squeeze.

“I’ve never had a birthday cake,” Martin said, sounding a bit wistful as he said it, and Jon leaned back slightly so he could see his face. Martin’s eyes were trained on the fire, and though his lips were still curled into a hint of a smile, his eyebrows folded inward in that way they did when an old wound itched just below the surface, stitched messily shut and stubbornly ignored even as it healed crooked and wrong. “At- at least not one of my own, that is, or- or that I can remember. I don’t know why I didn’t when I was younger, not really, but after Mum got sick, and my dad… well, birthdays just never really seemed all that important anymore, I guess? At least, Mum never seemed to want to celebrate.”

Martin let out a small laugh, the kind born from reflecting on a memory that was quite the opposite of humorous. “And by the time I was old enough to make one for myself, it all just seemed so… pointless, I suppose. You know, that time we went out for ice cream was the first time I’d even celebrated my birthday since I turned 21?” Under his breath, Martin said, “Though I’m not sure you could call buying myself a bottle of Moscato and drinking alone in my flat celebrating.” He drew in a shaky breath before giving Jon a small, embarrassed smile. Not too long ago, he probably would have stuttered out some sort of apology, like it was shameful for him to show the vulnerable parts of himself. Now, he simply said, “It was nice, I suppose. To have people who cared, even if it didn’t seem like it meant all that much at the time.”

Martin had that quietly sad look on his face, the one they both shared when thinking of the easy comfort of those first months in the archives, with Tim bright-eyed and smiling and telling jokes that Jon only understood half of the time and Sasha looking the way she had in the Polaroid Jon had found tucked away in the box of statements and cassette tapes Basira had delivered, clearly meant to be more salt in a wound that had been stitched closed before it had the chance to bleed. Jon squeezed Martin’s hand tighter, and when that didn’t seem enough, brought it to his lips and laid a soft kiss across the knuckles. “Yes,” Jon said softly, feeling that same sadness curling within his stomach and mingling with the beginnings of determination, a plan half-forming in his mind. “It suppose it was.”

It was going to be perfect. Martin had left some time ago to make the longer trip into Inverness to pick up the supplies they couldn’t get in the village, forehead creasing slightly at Jon’s fabricated excuse of ‘not feeling well’ and Jon’s subsequent refusal of Martin’s offer to stay behind and reschedule their trip to a time when Jon was feeling more up to it. Jon had practically pushed Martin out the front door, letting out a small breath of relief when he saw Daisy’s car—now ostensibly their car—trundle down the cratered dirt road and out of sight. He’d had all of the ingredients; he’d followed all of the instructions. It was supposed to be perfect.

At least the gołąbki turned out well, he thinks with a resigned sigh as he extracts the glass dish from the oven, setting it atop one of the electric hobs to cool. The cake sits in his periphery, almost mockingly; some of the frosting has sloughed off the top, leaving the chocolate pastry underneath starkly exposed.

It… it wouldn’t hurt to try to fix it, right? Just a little more frosting to patch up the hole.

Somehow, the middle of the cake ends up collapsing inward, taking a good portion of the candles with it. Christ, Jon can just picture his grandmother’s expression, the stern tilt of her eyebrows and the press of her mouth into a thin line that, thinking back on it, was really more amused than anything as she told him that no, five minutes was not long enough to properly cook chicken breasts in the oven, and no, he could not set the temperature to 260 degrees just to speed things along. She’d taught him how to mince garlic and to make Desi Ghee and to spice dishes without the need for measuring spoons, saying that he may as well put some of his anxious, restless energy to use and that the kitchen was as good a place as any.

The first time he’d cooked in the safehouse, a few days after they’d arrived, when Martin had sat shivering on the couch with his eyes iced over with fog, his stomach had knotted in worry that he wouldn’t remember how—that he’d neglected it for so long, subsisting off of ready meals and tea in the beginning and then mostly statements after a while, and that this knowledge was the kind of nice, wonderful thing he wouldn’t be allowed to keep. But the knife strokes had come easily, almost mindlessly, and he’d filled the kitchen with mindless chatter as he’d worked in the hopes that it would give Martin something to cling to until he could press a bowl of chicken dumpling soup into his hands and gently coax him to eat.

After that, Jon had taken to cooking most of their meals while Martin sat at the table and wrote with his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration, or stood behind Jon and wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his chin against Jon’s shoulder as he watched him work, or formed a pile of flour and sugar and spices into a bread or a pastry or some other lovely, doughy concoction that Jon just couldn’t understand. Because Martin could cook, yes, but he’d never really liked it, he’d mumbled into his pillow one night after Jon had whispered, “Tell me something.”

“It just reminds me of my Mum,” he’d said, voice small and quiet, and Jon had understood.

But baking seemed to come so easily to Martin, lighting up his face with a radiant joy that captivated Jon to the point where he’d burned several meals just staring at Martin while he worked, transforming the same ingredients into a myriad of different desserts that all tasted light and lovely on Jon’s tongue, even though he’d never been a fan of sweets. At least, not until Martin had pressed a raspberry-filled Paczki into his hand with a tentative smile. He’d made it seem so easy, and Jon had been sure that, at the very least, he could manage a birthday cake.

Clearly, he’d been wrong.

He’s halfway to the bin, having decided that having no cake at all is distinctly better than having the monstrosity of a cake that’s currently balanced precariously in his hands, when the front door swings open, bringing with it a rush of winter air that prickles goosebumps onto Jon’s skin and sends a flush to his cheeks. Though that may be only partly due to the chill.

“Hey,” Martin says, kicking the door closed behind him. His arms are laden with canvas bags of various patterns and designs, collected from a myriad of different shops over the past months, and he’s looking at the floor as he kicks off his boots so he doesn’t see the way Jon freezes halfway to the bin, the offending cake still suspended in front of him in the way one might hold a particularly offensive-smelling bag of rubbish. His muscles lock in indecision, and his mind is a mess of do I throw it away do I hide it oh Christ what do I do he’s going to hate it I have to get rid of it, and then Martin’s looking up from the floor and saying, “Are you feeling any—?”

His eyes alight on the cake, on the stricken expression on Jon’s face, and his sentence trails off into a small, “Oh.” He takes in the kitchen, which is still in a state of disarray because Jon thought he had more time, surely Martin said he’d be out until six. He says as much, because he’s really not sure what else to do.

“It’s quarter past,” Martin says, still staring at Jon with an unreadable expression that’s sending Jon’s stomach into a chaotic mess of nervous butterflies, and Jon’s eyes flick over to the clock above the oven. It does, in fact, read 18:14, and Jon feels his cheeks heat further.

“Ah.” He’s still holding the cake awkwardly in front of him, he realizes, so he pulls it closer to his chest, almost protectively. Martin’s eyes track its movement, and on reflex, Jon says, “I- ah, I made dinner? And, er. A cake as well.”

“Oh,” Martin says again, and Jon still can’t tell what he’s feeling. Not that he’s ever been good at that, but Martin has a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, which usually makes it easier.

Nerves loosen his tongue, and he begins to ramble. “I- I know we hadn’t really discussed it, and I- I didn’t want you to think that I forgot about your birthday—which is, ah, tomorrow, I know, but I- I suppose I thought it would be more of a surprise today, and we did make plans for tomorrow already, and you- you said you’d never had a birthday cake of your own, and you’re always baking for me, so I- I thought it might be nice to make something for you, and you always make it seem so easy, but it, ah, it didn’t quite—”

He shrugs helplessly and nods down at the cake, which is looking significantly more pathetic now that it’s under Martin’s scrutiny. “It’s a bit ruined,” he says, trying to convey within his words the entirety of the apologetic mess that’s been tying his stomach into knots. He stares at the floor, eyes fixating on Martin’s boots and the small puddle of water accumulating beneath them as the snow caked on the sides of them melts. The hot embarrassment that’s rapidly consuming him keeps his eyes cast firmly downward.

“Oh,” Martin says once more, and it’s a soft, tender noise that makes Jon’s gaze twitch upward. His breath catches in his throat when he sees the wet shine to Martin’s eyes, the open, vulnerable look on his face where the stunned mask has finally cracked. “Oh, Jon.”

Martin sets the bags on the floor and quickly crosses the room to where Jon’s stood. He takes the cake carefully out of Jon’s hands, despite Jon’s protests, and sets it on the counter like it’s something precious instead of the worst baking monstrosity Jon’s ever laid eyes on.

“Martin, what—?”

One of Martin’s hands is on Jon’s shoulder, the other carefully cupping his face. He pauses there for a moment, like he always does, giving Jon a chance to pull back. When Jon doesn’t, Martin leans in and kisses him.

It’s more insistent than usual, both of Martin’s hands coming up to rest on Jon’s face and thumbs running soft circles over the tops of his cheeks as he presses into him, swallowing Jon’s soft gasp as he pushes him back against the kitchen counter, narrowly avoiding the cake as he kisses him soundly. Jon’s arms come up to loop around Martin’s neck loosely, his fingers brushing against the curls at the nape of Martin’s neck, and the tension he’s been holding in his body for the last hour melts away under the gentle, rhythmic motion of Martin’s thumbs against his face and the little noises Martin’s making against his mouth.

When Martin pulls back some time later, his face is flushed a lovely shade of pink, and Jon realizes with a start that there are tear tracks running down his cheeks. He brings a hand to Martin’s face and rubs gently at the tears, his stomach twisting again ever so slightly in concern. “What’s wrong?” he says quietly, still breathless from the kissing.

Martin hiccups a laugh, small and disbelieving. “Nothing’s wrong, Jon. I- Christ, I’m just so- so happy.” He brings a hand up to grasp at the one Jon has on his face, squeezing it tightly before bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the inside of Jon’s palm. “You made this for me?”

Jon blinks, once, before remembering the cake. His forehead creases in disappointment, directed entirely at himself. “Ah. Yes, that.” He glances at the cake, which looks just as appalling as it did before—possibly more so due to the fact that Jon’s elbow seems to have, at some point, jostled the cake after all, dislodging another section of frosting and quite a few candles along with it. “It was meant to look significantly more… edible.”

Martin lets out another laugh, this one with a bit more substance. “Jon, did you try it?”

Jon’s frown deepens. “I don’t follow.”

Martin disentangles himself from Jon, despite Jon’s small noise of protest, opens the cutlery drawer, and retrieves a fork. “How will we know if it’s edible or not until we try it?” he says with a smile that’s entirely too wide and excited at the prospect of eating a cake that looks like it was run over by a car.

“I really don’t think that’s—Martin!”

Martin carves off a section of cake, ignoring Jon’s protests to, “At least wait until after we eat.” He puts it in his mouth, and Jon braces himself for the inevitable disgust.

Martin hums, his eyes still crinkled with a hint of a smile even as he swallows and says, “It’s really not that bad, Jon.”

“Not that bad,” Jon echoes, glaring at the offending pastry and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Christ, this- this was supposed to be romantic.”

Martin’s hand finds Jon’s face again, turning his head gently until Jon meets his eyes. “It is,” Martin says softly, eyes full of something so tender it makes Jon melt. “It’s- Christ, I’m going to start crying again. In a good way,” he adds quickly, at Jon’s stricken expression. “You- you just—”

Martin pinches his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes shining again with unshed tears, and he says in a small voice, “I love you so much, Jon. And I love that you did this for me. I know you hate it when people say that it’s the thought that counts, but—no, don’t give me that look, it really is. I’m not using it as an excuse to- to soften a criticism or anything, or to subtly say that I hate it. I love the cake, Jon, because I love you, and so it really doesn’t matter that it kind of looks like somebody stepped on it.”

That pulls a small giggle from Jon, entirely against his will and born mostly from the release of the knot of nerves that had reformed in the pit of his stomach. “God, it really does, doesn’t it?” He laughs again, more intentionally this time, and takes Martin’s hand in his, squeezing it tightly. “Well, I promise that the main course is significantly more palatable. It’s from that little recipe book you gave me—the one you picked up at the bookstore?”

“Oh!” Martin’s eyes brighten as they alight upon the glass dish still sitting on the hob. “You made gołąbki! Christ, I haven’t had that since I was a kid. My grandmother used to make it for holidays before she passed.” When Martin’s eyes meet Jon’s again, they’re full of such fondness that the Jon of a few months ago would have squirmed under the weight of it. Instead, he lets himself lean into it, feeling the flutter of his heart against his ribcage as Martin places another warm, achingly soft kiss against his lips. “Thank you, Jon,” he says, pulling back just enough that the words tickle against Jon’s skin. “I… just, thank you.”

Jon’s I love you is interrupted by the rumbling of Martin’s stomach, loud and insistent. Laughter splits Martin’s face into a wide smile, and he says, “I suppose we should eat, then.”

“I suppose so,” Jon says, feeling his own smile grow softer as Martin turns to the glass dish and begins to portion out the gołąbki.

Maybe they could bake together, he thinks as he sits across from Martin at the table, Martin’s foot reaching underneath and hooking around Jon’s ankle. Yes, that… that might be nice.

The cake ends up going into the bin after all. Though neither of them really seem to mind.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #the magnus archives fic #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #my fic #my writing #you know i realized that i forgot to post this on tumblr since it was anonymous for a week #better late than never i guess lol

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aceofshitposts · 4 years ago

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another shortish drabble that’s sort of part of a bigger thing but i’ve already got my fingers in too many pies. I also keep posting things to the wrong damn blog so there’s that. Anywho this has a follow up I’m planning on posting for jaytim week but both of them could be read separately lol. It’s more pining Jay cuz I’m predictable as fuck but now featuring special guests: Stephanie and Cass.

ALSO! my inbox is open for sentence/dialogue prompts! I use them as warmups if anyone’s interested :)

Stephanie’s apartment is your average, shitty Gotham affair. The kitchen is jammed into the corner right beside the front door and the living room crowded with a couch and coffee table that is currently pushed against the sliding glass door of her equally shitty balcony. Jason knows Tim has tried several times to get her to move, somewhere with less cracks in the wall and a more reliable water heater at least; but Jason and Stephanie are cut from the same cloth and he knows that no matter how much Tim may pester her she will stay here out of pure spite until she damn well decides otherwise herself.

Despite the ramshackle appearance, the apartment is currently crowded with laughter as Tim spins Stephanie around the cleared space of the living room, Cass randomly picking music for them to dance to from the spot she’s curled up on on the couch. Jason opens the oven, thankfully cooperating compared to the last time he’d been here to try and make a cake, and removes the chicken lasagna Stephanie had begged him to make hours before.

“Don’t you dare dip me!” Stephanie shrieks over the sound of Tim’s slightly manic laughter as he pushes forward into her space, obviously intending to dip her.

There’s a loud THUD that shakes the floor as Stephanie flails and Tim loses his balance, landing them in a pile of limbs on the floor. Jason imagines if Stephanie’s lower neighbor is home they’ll be hearing about this soon.

“I told you not to dip me, dingus!”

“I wouldn’t have dropped you if you didn’t go dead weight like a stone!”

Cass turns her head to look at Jason, Tim and Steph still laughing on the floor, and says, “children,” in a tone that is both endearing and bone tired.

Jason leans over the kitchen counter, putting his weight on his forearms as he watches Tim and Steph begin to wrestle on the floor; arguing over who could dip who and whether they should test this theory at the next gala Bruce drags them too. Tim might know how to do a passable box step but Jason knows Stephanie would just step on his toes, maybe even on accident, if they attempted a dance. Jason hasn’t been to one of those fancy parties in years, being legally dead will do that to you, but part of him thinks he wouldn’t mind trying to dip Tim.

Just to see the expression on Bruce’s face, of course.

It’s hard, sometimes, when everything feels as easy as breathing to remember the road that lead here. Jason doesn’t want to forget, eyes drawn to scars he remembers tracing on previously blank skin on Tim, it feels irresponsible. The way they’ve all managed to match their broken edges and stitch themselves back together is nothing short of some kind of miracle, the peace they feel now was hard fought for and won and sometimes they still snag on each other’s barbs. Tim spent so long closed off from all of them, no thanks to some of Jason’s own actions. Seeing him now (they’ve stopped wrestling and are instead pressed shoulder to ankle on the floor with their heads ducked under the coffee table, talking in hushed but no less giggly tones) feels like something Jason shouldn’t be allowed to be here for.

It wouldn’t be the first time he withdrew in a panic, feeling like the walls were closing in and the ceiling was about to drop. Out of everyone in this room, Jason knows he’s the biggest threat; the one least deserving of the peace they find themselves. Least deserving of Stephanie pestering him until he agrees to come to her shitty apartment and make homemade lasagna, the way Cass won’t take no for an answer when she decides they’re going to play rooftop tag after patrol, how Tim smiled when Jason had walked through the door with an armload of groceries.

They’re all misfits in their own ways. Even if things are smoothing out with the rest of the family, the four of them have carved out their own irreplaceable spots in each other’s lives. He might not deserve it but Jason knows now that each one would drag him back kicking and screaming if he tried to run. Tim had, quite literally, had to beat the idea that he’d long since forgiven Jason into him at one point. Sometimes he still rolls his eyes and punches Jason in the shoulder, seemingly having developed a sixth sense for Jason’s personal pity parties.

“You’re soft,” Cass says, apparently having moved from the couch to stand next to Jason in the kitchen like a fucking ninja. Jason is not ashamed to admit he jumps.

His eyes slide from Cass back to where Tim is lying on the floor with Steph and back again. Stephanie cackles and Tim sputters something incomprehensible in response, shoving her shoulder in an argument Jason can’t quite hear.

“When you look at him,” Cass clarifies because he definitely needs it.

“Uuuh,” Jason says eloquently, eyes roving around the ceiling (is that mold? He should let Stephanie know so she can tell the landlord), desperately searching for the exit to this conversation. He clears his throat, remembering the cooling lasagna resting on the stovetop, and raises his voice, “food’s ready!”

Cass gives him a look, the one of a deeply disappointed sibling. It’s a look Jason knows well. Tim and Stephanie are getting up, Tim punching her again in the shoulder and saying something Jason can’t hear over the pounding rush of blood in his ears as Tim finally looks towards the kitchen and grins directly at Jason. It’s a good thing he was leaning on the counter because Jason thinks his knees went a little weak.

“Don’t worry,” Cass says, voice firm but quiet, knocking her shoulders in his, “he’s soft looking at you, too.”

#jaytim #jaytim fanfiction #jason todd #tim drake #astrix writes #i posted this to my main by accident and lost all the after thought tags i put :')#just know it was about bruce being an idiot which is hilariously out of context now #my favourite part of this one is jason trying to find the exit conversation button #which is a mood i know well from customer service

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karliahs · 4 years ago

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please leave a light on when you go

oneshot - jontim - 2k words

written for @jontim-week day 2, prompts: night out / touch / secret

“I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

And here’s where Tim could say sure, wave him off and go back to moping, buy everyone an obligatory round, flex his meaningless chat muscles and be home by half 9. “Mind if I join you?” he asks instead, and to his surprise Jon nods immediately, as if he’d been hoping Tim would say that.

read on ao3! or below the cut:

There’s no reason for Tim to be here. The Institute has some weird policies, including a truly esoteric dress code, but it doesn’t have mandatory team-building night-outs. Tim has no reason to get to know his coworkers, no need to ingratiate himself to them beyond what he can get by smiling, making bland comments about his weekend plans and never microwaving fish in the breakroom.

The pub they’re in, somehow identical to every workplace-night-out pub he’s ever been to, seems to be having some sort of throwback night. Early-nineties hits play just loud enough to grate, and Tim eyes his new coworkers, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for striking up a conversation. He imagines what they might say if he told the truth. <i>Hi, I’m Timothy. I left behind a career in publishing to be a junior researcher so that I can hunt monsters like fucking Scooby Doo. If you need me, I’ll be chasing answers I’ll never find, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about them even if I did! Another round?</i>

Maybe that’s why he came tonight. To have these thoughts somewhere other than his flat. His little studio can only hold so much brooding.

He’s interrupted from his current round of brooding, first by an unsteady grab at his shoulder, then by a cascade of beer, then by a glass clattering onto the floor followed by a hush in the surrounding buzz of conversation. A quiet, posh voice swears, and Tim recognises one of his coworkers bending down to try and clean up the mess, though it takes him a moment to place the name.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, glancing up at Tim before sheepishly looking back at the mess on the floor. Off to the side, a few tables give a sarcastic cheer and a round of applause. Tim worked food service long enough to instinctively dislike anyone who does this. He grabs some napkins and bends down to help Jon.

“Hey, no harm done,” Tim says, trying to remember how to sound friendly. He scoops up the somehow still-intact glass. “They’re wise enough to make them sturdy around here.”

Jon huffs, somewhat ineffectually blotting at the spreading puddle on the ground. “Did - your clothes, I didn’t, ah-”

“Only a glancing blow,” Tim answers, brushing at the damp spots by his hip. “And after I went to all this trouble to dress up for the occasion.”

Jon looks up in alarm, before registering that Tim hadn’t even bothered to change out of his work clothes. He gives a small, reluctant smile; one of the first expressions Tim’s seen from him that wasn’t some variant of thoughtful frown.

He’s seen Jon around a bit, in his few weeks at the Institute - about Tim’s age, relatively nondescript, tonight clad in a surprisingly lush leather jacket. Tim had made the mistake of asking him a couple of questions on his first day, when the person actually training him was on lunch. Jon had blustered and prevaricated for a few minutes before admitting it was only his second week in the job, so he didn’t actually know.

That was about the only time they’d interacted, though Tim had noticed a few other things. There were a few loose groups of friendships in Research, and Jon didn’t seem to be a part of any of them. He never seemed that steady on his feet, and he tended to avoid eating in public. He rarely asked for help, unless he needed something that would require him to use one of the library ladders, which he seemed determined to avoid. Tim had wondered idly about vertigo, or mobility issues, before reminding himself these weren’t the questions he was here to answer.

Tim had always noticed people, collected little details about them in his head whether he intended to or not, but he thinks his observations used to be about happier things, though it’s hard to remember exactly how he was, how he felt, before - it wasn’t the kind of thing he ever tried to memorise, the kind of thing he ever thought he could lose. Now he finds himself taking note of the coworker who comes back from their lunch break with faint puffy red marks around their eyes, or the older guy who checks his phone with something like dread in his eyes. Danny would have called it his older brother instincts (but what good did those instincts do him?).

Tim blinks back to the present, realising he’s been pushing a napkin over the same spot of floor for a while now. Jon offers him a hand up, though he braces himself on the bar with his other hand before he does. Tim takes care not to let Jon take too much of his weight as he’s hauled back up.

“Ah, thank you. And apologies, again,” Jon murmurs, gesturing awkwardly at Tim’s lightly-beered clothes.

“Happens to everyone,” Tim says easily. Jon still looks lightly anguished, and Tim silently wishes this could have happened to someone else, someone with the confidence to laugh it off. “I’m always convinced I’m going to drop something when I go in the silent study bit of the library,” Tim offers.

“Ah...that worry hadn’t actually occurred to me,” Jon replies, solemn enough that Tim can’t really tell if he’s joking.

Tim finger-guns. “Any other anxieties I can stir up while you’re over here?”

“I’m quite capable of stoking my own neuroses, thank you.”

Jon glances over his shoulder at the tables the rest of the department are occupying, perhaps doing the same thing as Tim and trying to psyche himself up for some more hollow smalltalk. Tim notes that his jacket seems slightly large on him, but in a way that kind of works. The collar of his shirt is slightly out of place beneath it. There’s a lump forming in Tim’s throat, even though nothing is happening - nothing but standing close to someone, noticing the little signs that they’re real and alive entirely independent from him. He’s aware, as he always is, of the hollow pit in his stomach, pain ebbing and flowing but never gone, new flares thrown off from a familiar wound, now pulsing with a kind of loneliness. All this, just from standing close to someone and trying to make them feel better about a mistake that didn’t matter.

“I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

They duck outside to find dark clouds have given way to an anticlimactic drizzle. They stay close to the pub, shielded from the rain by the slight overhang of the roof. Jon fumbles with a lighter and Tim finds his gaze drifting over the rain-slick streets. It’s been a while since he’s been...anywhere, really, other than work and his flat. Longer than he can remember since he was outside in the never-quite-dark of the city.

Despite himself, Tim finds himself admiring the buildings across the way, modern painted shop-fronts on the ground floor giving way to weathered brick and occasional stone carvings above. It was the first thing he’d loved about London, how you only had to look up to catch a glimpse of its history, and it almost wounds him all over again, that that love isn’t gone too. It would be easier if he was just one thing, all the way lost. It would be easier if he didn’t still love the world that killed Danny.

Jon lights his cigarette, and silently holds the lighter out to Tim. Tim shakes his head, and Jon doesn’t question him about why he’s come out here if he doesn’t smoke. Doesn’t press about the way Tim must be looking; he knows he’s never had much of a poker face. Danny tried to teach him poker, on a visit home from uni; Tim left for six weeks and came back to playing cards and strategy guides everywhere - his brother, who never sit still even in his own head -

“Where were you, before this?” Jon asks. Tim wouldn’t have pegged him for a smoker, but he looks immediately more relaxed with a cigarette in his hands. Nice hands, too. It would be easier, if he didn’t-

“Publishing,” Tim answers, before he can drift again. He wants to say more, to make sure this undemanding presence isn’t going to leave his side, but his throat is still tight. “You?”

Jon frowns, as if debating something to himself, then gives a tiny rueful smile. “Tesco.”

Tim grins. “Was it a haunted Tesco?”

“Only by customers,” Jon replies, dry as bone.

The rain is picking up slightly, and both of them silently tuck further into their little alcove, bringing them shoulder to shoulder. The air tastes of smoke. Tim is watching moths in the streetlights above, partly out of fear that if he looks directly at Jon, he’ll realise how close they are and pull back.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Jon asks, voice hushed. He gestures and Tim follows the point of light with his eyes. “The smell, I mean?”

“Always kind of liked it,” Tim answers, matching Jon’s tone. Jon scoffs in disbelief. “What? You’re the one who inhales the things.”

“Exactly,” Jon says. “I have a biochemical justification for finding the smell tolerable. What’s your excuse?”

Tim spreads his hands, little spots of rain landing on his sleeve. “I never claimed to make sense.”

In the corner of his eye, Tim catches Jon hiding a smile with his next drag. It’s a good smile, one he wants to get a proper look at sometime. It’s as if now that he’s noticed one beautiful thing, he can’t stop seeing them: the buildings; the rain; the passing pair of drunk students across the way, walking arm in arm, holding each other up. There’s a curl of anger in his chest, that these things still get to exist, but for the moment it coexists with a kind of quiet warmth.

“You want to know a secret?” Tim asks, finally turning to look directly at Jon. Jon doesn’t speak, doesn’t nod, but he stares and waits, lights reflecting in his dark eyes, and for a moment Tim feels as though he must already know what Tim is going to say, that he can look into Tim’s eyes and learn everything he’s ever tried to hide. He can’t decide if it’s peaceful or terrifying.

Then Jon blinks and the feeling is gone, as quickly as it had come. “I like this party better,” Tim finishes, gesturing to the two of them. The things he could have said hang in the air between them.

Jon doesn’t quite manage to hide his smile this time, and yeah, that’s something Tim needs to see more of, all slow and crooked.

“Well,” Jon says, still in the same hushed voice, as if they’re sharing secrets. “If you ever need to borrow my smoking habit, get you out of an unpleasant social situation…”

“Knew that was why people smoked,” Tim says, nudging Jon’s shoulder with his own. “I’m not normally…” He trails off, unsure how to explain himself. Normally I’d care at least a bit, about all those people in there. Normally I’d at least have the energy to pretend.

Jon considers this half-finished thought for a long moment. “Abnormality is...rather the Institute’s specialty,” he offers eventually. Tim feels a kind of gratitude he can’t name or voice, so he doesn’t, just stands there listening to the rain while Jon finishes his cigarette, and for a long time after.

Not a bad night out, after all.

#jontimweek #the magnus archives #tma fic #jontim #new! thing!

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considermewhelmed · 5 years ago

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Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths- Tim Drake

TW: attempted su*c*de/su*c*dal thoughts, anxiety, depression.

a/n: hey remember in the Master when I said these would be short fics? Ha. Yeah. Me too. Good times.

Tag list: @river9noble

Master

“Achilles, Achilles, Achilles come down/Won’t you get up off, get up off the roof?/You’re scaring us and all of us/Some of us love you/Achilles it’s not much but there’s proof.”

“You may feel no purpose/Nor a point for existing/It’s all just conjecture and gloom/And there may not be meaning/So find one and seize it/Do not waste yourself on this roof/Hear those bells ring deep in the soul/Chiming away for a moment/Feel your breath course frankly below/And see life as a worthy opponent.”

Tim stood on the edge of the building, overlooking the city. His cape billowed lightly in the cool air, and he took a deep breath.

‘Red Robin, report.’ Barbra’s voice asked in his ear.

Tim remained silent, his eyes scanning the streets, but his mind far away.

‘Red Robin, report.’ She repeated.

‘Red Robin, are you okay?’

A new voice broke onto the comms.

Dick.

He had been thinking a lot. About Dick. And Damian. Bruce. Steph. Babs. Duke. Luke. Cass. Kate even. There were just… so many of them. So many. One less surely wouldn’t matter?

He imagined he wouldn’t get a huge memorial like the one for Jason in the batcave- he was choosing this, he did it himself, there was no honour in that. He didn’t mind though, he wasn’t sure he even cared to be remembered.

They barely remembered him alive, why would death help?

He wondered how long it would take them to forget him. The voice is the first thing you forget about a person, when was the last time he talked to them all?

‘Red Robin, where are you?’ Dick.

‘Is his comm offline?’ Steph.

‘No, it’s online. It should be working. Receiver and all.’ Barbra.

‘Red Robin?’ Dick.

He looked down. He’d survived some pretty unlikely things, but this was too much. Too high. There was no way his heart could take his fall, let alone the pavement below waiting for his body. It called his name, whispering the promises of sweet relief with every breeze, the streetlight spotlight marking his entrance to his final bow.

‘Can you get his tracker online?’ Dick.

‘Red Robin, come in.’ Bruce.

‘No. He’s bypassed the security.’ Barbra.

‘Really Drake?’ Damian. ‘Sneaking off during patrol?’

‘Red Robin, report.’ Bruce- and Tim imagined he sounded worried in the way only Batman could be.

‘Where was his route?’ Dick.

Tim tuned them out, but couldn’t bring himself to turn the comms off completely. He didn’t have the heart to be alone- he was selfish and desperate.

He shrugged off the cape, letting it fall to the rooftop, and quietly unclipped his utility belt. He wished he felt scared, or sad, or anything, but instead he just felt numb. Human instinct should be trying to get him back safely to the solid roof behind him, but instead he just swayed in the wind, as if even his own body was impartial to the decision.

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly, rolling his shoulders back, resigning to his fate. There was no use in fighting anymore.

That was it. He felt something. Tired.

Not just tired. Exhausted. Bone deep exhaustion, the kind of exhaustion that made even sleeping a chore. Tears gathered in his eyes, and with each drop his mask got looser and looser. He thought of something to say- some sort of goodbye. Not for them, but for him, for closure. His own eulogy. Last words, maybe?

Did he deserve last words when the villain he lost to was his own mind? Internal, eternal, and inevitable? It was a dance he’d been a part of for far too long and he was just tired.

“Hey Replacement.”

Tim expected his whole body to go rigid, for his instinct to take over, for any kind of fight to bubble up inside him, itching to get out. He and Jason reconciled, sure, but sometimes when he caught him off guard, Tim still had the same knee-jerk reaction.

Instead, his body just stood there, open and unarmed. It solidified his resolve- even his instincts knew it was over. The idea that Jason could easily shoot him, or push him off the roof didn’t scare him.

Why would it?

He could hear Jason’s quiet, heavy steps as the older boy approached.

‘Red Hood, status, have you found him?’

Dick’s voice came over the comms.

Tim didn’t look at Jason. There was a soft click.

“No, not yet. I’ll keep looking. Just cover my area Dickhead.” Jason said before the soft click happened again.

The two boys were quiet for a minute.

Behind him, Tim could hear the familiar whirring of the mechanics- mechanics he helped design -that indicated the removal of Jason’s Red Hood helmet. A thump after indicated Jason had opted to ditch it on the roof.

Normally, Tim would yell at him for being so careless with his equipment, especially since Tim worked hard on the last updates, but he couldn’t even find his voice.

He heard the clatter of weapons hitting the ground, and Jason stepped closer.

“Come on Timmy,” Jason said softly, and Tim’s chest tightened at the nickname. “You’re shaking. You gotta be freezing.”

It wasn’t until Jason said something that Tim realized he was vibrating. Even the air was unforgiving in Gotham, and somewhere between his decision to step on the ledge and the loss of his cape, it turned into an icy grip that cut through the thin material of his suit.

The wind stung his face where the tears had started to slip beneath his mask. His knees buckled and he sucked in a sharp breath of air.

“I can’t.” He choked out, his hand gripping at his chest. “I- I can’t move.”

‘Red Robin?’ Dick’s voice cut through the comms. ‘Come on buddy, where are you, I’ll come get you.’

Tim couldn’t hear him over the roar of his own blood in his ears, and took his comm out of his ear, throwing it off to the side.

It was then he caught sight of Jason, and was shocked by the lack of not only helmet, but mask as well. Jason’s eyes had a green shine to them- a side effect of the pit -and they were trained on Tim.

Jason held out his hand to Tim. “Take my hand baby bird.” He murmured.

“No,” Tim cried. “I want- I should- I have to- I’m going to fall Jason-”

“No.” Jason said sternly. “No you won’t.”

Tim inched closer to the ledge. “It doesn’t matter-”

“Of course it matters dipshit, you matter. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

Tim’s lip trembled and a sob tore from his throat as his knees gave out from under him and for a split second he was falling-

And the next he was wrapped in a tight hug.

Tim reached out instinctually and grabbed onto whatever he could hold, staying as close as possible to the smell of leather, gun polish and sweat, a surprisingly comforting combination.

Maybe it was just because it meant safety.

“I’ve got you baby bird,” Jason mumbled, and he could feel Jason bury his nose in Tim’s hair. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” He sputtered through his tears. “I’m sorry, Jay, I’m sorry,” A whole new breakdown washed over him, and he couldn’t get a grip on his emotions.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Jason scolded him lightly, and rubbed little circles on his back. “I’ve got you.”

“I was going to do it,” Tim cried.

“I know.” Jason whispered.

“They hate me. They’re going to hate me more!” Tim whimpered. “I can’t- I don’t want-”

“I know.” Jason repeated. “But no one hates you, Tim,” He promised. “Hell, even Barbra threatened to get out here to find you.”

Tim buried his face in Jason’s chest and just stayed there. “I’m nothing more than a placeholder,” He mumbled. “I’m a pretender. A replacement.” He sniffled. “I didn’t- I didn’t even want to be Robin. God. I wanted Dick to be Robin. Batman needs Robin.” He was close to hysterics, and god Jason still didn’t know what to do.

“Maybe,” Jason agreed. “But Bruce Wayne needs Tim Drake.” Jason said quietly. “I’m pretty sure the old man would be lost without you Timmy.”

Tim shook his head and Jason snorted. “You set up the system in the batcave, make sure the Wayne business is intact and running smoothly, you’ve updated all the security, you always make sure there’s coffee in the manor, and no one makes him smile with bad jokes like you do.”

Tim stayed quiet, and Jason alternated between rubbing his back and running his hand through Tim’s hair. The boys stood there for as long as Tim needed to and Jason realized how small Tim was because Jesus Christ this was just a kid in a costume and he just wanted to be loved.

“Can we go back to the Manor?” Jason murmured. “My bike’s not far.”

Tim didn’t move.

“We can watch a movie?” He suggested. “I’ll let you pick.”

“Why are you being so nice?” Tim mumbled.

“Well… I could punch you instead if you’d like. Not sure that’ll make you feel better though.” He offered, and was rewarded by the smallest, quietest laugh. “C’mon, we can raid the kitchen.”

“You aren’t going to make me talk?” Tim asked.

Jason shook his head, tightening his grip on him. “I’m not going to make you talk about anything you don’t want to baby bird.” He said softly. “But if you want to do that, I’m here for that too.”

Tim tightened his own grip and kept close- Jason was keeping him grounded and that’s all that mattered. “What was it like?” He whispered.

Jason was quiet for a long moment, and Tim regretted asking almost immediately.

“Long.” Jason decided. “Dark. Quiet.”

“Good quiet?”

“No.” Jason said softly. “Too quiet.”

“I’m sorry.” Tim whispered.

“Me too,” Jason mumbled. “You’re not alone Timbo. I’m right here, alright?”

Tim nodded and pulled away after a moment when he felt like he could stand on his own. Jason collected their things and handed Tim his mask, cape and belt, putting his own mask and helmet back on, clipping his holsters on.

The ride back was quiet- Tim’s comm must have busted when it hit the roof, and if Jason heard anything he wasn’t giving it away. Jason came up with some half-assed lie about what happened to Barbra and the other Bats over the comms, and immediately claimed the living room for him and Tim, heading upstairs.

Tim was asleep by the end of the opening credits, tucked safely into the side of his big brother.

Maybe Tim couldn’t fight the villain in his head on his own, but having someone like Jason Todd on your side certainly made it easier.

#thebatfamplaylist #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #batman #bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #dick grayson #nightwing #damian wayne #Robin #barbra gordon #oracle #sorry this is so sad

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skiller0dani · 5 years ago

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L’amour De Ma Vie | Timothee Chalamet

M A S T E R L I S T

smut requests info wanna be on a Timmy taglist? click here missed part 1? read it here

so I did my Billy Mitman thing. please let me know what you think as the chapters come out, I’m so nervous about it. love you babes xx I’m running out of ideas, please send me requests l m a o

btw I used google translate for the french bits don’t come at me if it’s incorrect. Timmy isn’t here to write the french parts for me :( the translation will be located next to the french, italicized and in quotation marks.

I listened to ‘La Vie En Rose’ by Chloe Moriondo during writing this. is perfectly captures the mood I was going for.

Catch Up! Read Part One Here!

Public relationships are hard to maintain, with all the attention and expectations.

The media and even fans expect the relationship to progress at a certain rate, and when Tim was dating Lily-Rose Depp, everyone was waiting for him to propose. But he wasn’t ready for that. Still isn’t. He wasn’t sure if it’s him that’s not ready or if it was the person. It’s not that Lily had done anything wrong, she didn’t. It was all Tim. Whatever he currently had with you was a huge relief, nobody even knew you existed in his life, not even his parents. Not Armie, not his family, not anybody. Tim wasn’t keeping you a secret because he was ashamed, no it wasn’t that. He needs a secret right now, something just for him and you. Something he could hide away in, and while he didn’t intend on meeting you when he’d gone to the club he can say meeting you was exactly what he needed. Tim did have to do some damage control during interviews when asked about the ‘mysterious girl’ he was seen exiting the club with that night.

Tim always said you were an old friend, he said he hadn’t even seen you since. That it was a huge coincidence that he even ran into you. That’s not true of course, Tim sees you every single day that he can. The days he doesn’t see you, he calls you any chance he can get. Never in his life has he felt so obsessed with somebody, so completely consumed. Sure the sex was great, but talking to you was so much better than any of that. In recent weeks Tim has been avoiding having sex with you, it’s not that he doesn’t want to he does. He just doesn’t want you to think that’s the sole reason he sticks around. Lily took it personally towards the end of their relationship when Tim would turn down sex. He just didn’t feel like it, at least not with her. That’s when he knew he needed to end the relationship.

Sometimes even private relationships are hard to maintain it would seem.

Of course there were a lot of tabloids who didn’t quite buy his “just an old friend” story, and wrote speculative articles as to who you were. The two of you found it quite entertaining to read the theories, and to watch the fans unravel because who the hell are you?? Are you and Tim dating?? No you’re probably just family, oh my gosh but are you just family?? It was hilarious, in a cruel sort of way. Tim worried at first, made sure you weren’t too overwhelmed with all this attention on you even though the paparazzi didn’t even get a picture of your face. When you took him home from the club you had no clue Tim was internationally famous, he feels like maybe he should have told you before you fucked in the nightclub bathroom. You seemed intrigued by his career and the films he’d been in, he found that endearing. When the two of you first started seeing each other more often you’d told him you were going to watch every single movie he’d ever been in. Turns out you’re a woman of your word, because you then proceeded to watch every single movie he had ever starred in. Even briefly.

Tim’s dad was never super inquisitive about his sons dating life, if it was someone Tim really saw a future with then he knew Tim would bring her by sooner or later. However you seemed to be something Tim remained very tight lipped about. Tim almost never mentioned you, and he always changed the subject if his dad questioned him about this mystery women who seems to have captured his sons attention. Tim really doesn’t know why his desire to keep you a complete secret to everyone is so strong, but he feels like he needs to keep you a secret. So when Tim’s phone rang and he saw his fathers contact for the 3rd time today, he grew nervous and nearly declined the call.

“Bonjour fils,” “Hello son.” His father greets cheerfully, but Tim knows better. He knows something is up. “Dad, comment vas-tu?” “Dad, how are you?” Tim wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans as the dark clouds begin to gather together overhead. “I am well, but I do have a question for you.” His accent is thick, but Tim is used to it. It’s not the accent he’s focused on anyway. Tim’s parents become inquisitive only when they know Tim is hiding something important from them which is almost never. The silence on the other end of the phone is unnerving. “La fille, who is she?” Tim falls silent, he’s not entirely surprised this is the question his father needed to ask him right this moment. Tim itches the back of his neck as rain begins to drizzle down, Tim takes this opportunity to abort the call. “Dad? Dad? Sorry I can’t hear you.” Tim says, before faking a bad signal and hanging up. He feels guilty but he’s not ready to answer his dads question.

He was supposed to be walking to your small condo today, but clearly the rain has other plans as Tim stands a porch soaked to the bone.

Normally Tim would drive but his car is too easily recognizable and it’s easier for him to disguise himself when he’s walking. His teeth chatter as his phone rings, he’s not at all surprised when he sees your name pop up on the screen. “Tim where are you? You’re going to get sick out there.” Your voice is thick with concern. It makes the corners of Tim’s mouth quirk up. Checking the closest street sign Tim signs, “still a few blocks away.” He says but is cut off when he hears your keys rattling. Seeing the streets flowing with a few inches of water as the rain begins to downpour, Tim’s voice is a little more worried than he intended when he spoke again. “No it’s way too dangerous for you to drive.” He protests but when he hears your front door shut he knows arguing with you is pointless. Tim slides his phone back into his pocket when he sees a bolt of lightning flash across the sky, luckily it should only take you a few minutes to reach him.

With a flash of your headlights, Tim jogs to the passenger side of your car.

His teeth are chattering hard and his wet hair clings to his forehead. There’s a healthy shade of rosy pink on his cheeks as he shudders when the heat hits him. “If you get sick I’m going to feel so bad for making you walk.” You begin your eyes glancing over at him during the short drive back to your place. Tim reaches over the center console, his ice cold hand finding yours as he squeezes once. “D-Don’t worry ab-bout it. I’ll be f-fine.” His voice is shaky as the shattering interrupts him. You wrap your tiny but warm hand around his as the rain pounds against the windshield. You can barely see. You don’t believe that he’ll be fine, and if he gets sick his director is going to be pissed. You pull into the garage at your house, and rush him inside.

“Clothes off!” You exclaim as the two of you enter your kitchen. Tim raises an eyebrow at you, a playful smile on his face as he reaches for the button of his wet jeans. “Because they’re wet.” You sigh when he waggles his eyebrows at you. He shrugs with a wide grin on his face as you turn to get some of his clothes he’s left here from the laundry room. When you return to the kitchen, you nearly have to squeeze your thighs together at the sight before you. Tim is standing in nothing but his boxers, a towel over his head as he dries his hair. Droplets of water run down his toned chest and along his v lines. His eyes are closed as he pulls the towel away from his tousled damp strands. Tim’s eyes open and he smirks when he sees you, obviously letting your eyes trail down his body. “Can I have my clothes or are you going to stand there and check me out some more?” He teases, loving how your face blooms in a dark crimson blush. You release your vise grip on his clothes and hand them to him, your cheeks blushing even hotter when he sends a wink your way.

You felt arousal rush through your body as you watched Tim yank his shirt over his head.

Tim rolls his eyes playfully after he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and he sees you still gawking at him. He approaches you and presses a quick kiss to your lips before running his hands down your arms. While the two of you aren’t technically together, you do everything a couple does. Tim knows he could ask you and you’d say yes, but even that feels risky. It makes his chest close when he thinks about it, what you two have now is safe. It’s familiar. “Drink and movie?” He asks and you nod with a smile, moving to choose a movie as Tim heads into the kitchen to make drinks. You both feel comfortable getting a little tipsy, it’s obvious he’s going to be spending the night tonight. Even if it wasn’t raining he’d probably spend the night anyway. Tim spends more nights here than he does at his own apartment. You look through the movies, a heaviness in your chest. Why won’t he ask you to be his girlfriend? You know how you feel, you think you know how he feels. The way he acts, it seems like he really likes you.

Holding your movie choice in your hand you skip back down the stairs, seeing that Tim has set up the DVD player and is waiting on the couch.

“Whatcha pick babe?” Tim asks, popping an almond into his mouth as you kneel down to insert the disk. You smile but you don’t say anything as the DVD player reads the disk. The opening screen for ‘Call Me By Your Name’ comes on and you hear Tim groan. “It’s the only one of your movies I haven’t seen yet.” You smile as you snuggle into the couch next to him. Tim’s arm wraps around you as he keeps munching on the almond, watching the opening scene come on. “Yeah but this has sex scenes, you think I enjoy watching myself have fake sex?” Tim asks, discomfort on his face as you laugh. You reach over to take an almond from him, “I know I’ll sure enjoy it.” You smile and you feel his lips press against your head briefly. Your head rests against his chest as you take a sip of the drink he’s decided to make you. “Hm been forever since I had a gin and tonic.” You smile when you feel him squeeze you.

When you see Tim come onto the screen, you can’t help but gush over how cute he is.

“Oh Timmy! You’re so cute.” You squeal, loving how his cheeks tint pink at your complements. Tim only shakes his head at you as you continue to coo at the Tim on the screen, the only way he can get you to stop is to press his lips against yours for a short, sweet kiss. As the movie continues, you can’t stay focused. It’s not the movie, it’s a really good movie and you’re certain it’s become one of your favorites. No it’s not that it’s a bad movie, it’s the stupid adorable boy sitting next to you. You’re tired of the two of you dancing around what you really want to be, you don’t know what he’s still waiting for. Your cheek presses into his chest as you only half watch the movie. You take another big drink of your gin and tonic before resting against Tim again. Almost as though he can read your thoughts Tim pauses the movie and sits up to look at you. “What is it?” He asks, turning to sit in front of you, his legs folded. You blink as innocently as you can, but when you see the look in his eyes you know you can’t beat around the bush any longer.

“I really like you Tim, I want to be with you...it just feels like you don’t want that too.” You admit, your eyes not meeting his as you stare down at the couch. You hear a deep sigh come from Tim before he takes your hands, his thumbs rubbing along the backs of your hands. Tim reaches forward to hook a finger under your chin to bring your eyes up to meet his. He was afraid he’d make you feel this way, he never meant to. He wants you more than you could ever understand. “I want that, more than I could ever put into words. I guess I’m just afraid that if we go there, what we have will change. I don’t want this to change or to become the ‘medias’ relationship rather than our relationship.” Tim says softly, and your eyebrows pinch together.

“What do you mean?” You ask him, your hands curling around his tighter, and you see him nibble on the inside of his cheek. “When I dated Lily, she always wanted us to act a certain way for the camera. Or maybe I just felt like we needed to be different for the medias eyes. It was so much work always having to be careful about what I did with her or said to her because there were eyes on us all the time. What I have with you makes me feel so free, I don’t want that to change. I don’t want us to be poisoned by the media.” Tim says, and you can tell a huge weight has been lifted from his chest by him saying this. Your hands reach up to cup his cheeks as you pull his lips to meet yours.

“That won’t ever happen to us. We’ll be careful about the media, we’ll keep this a secret.” You reassure him as you crawl into his lap. You see the look of fear on his face beginning to melt away as he winds his arms tightly around your waist. Tim’s forehead presses firmly against yours, “so do you really want to do this, with me?” He asks and you know he isn’t joking. He’s being dead serious. You wind your arms around his neck with a smile on your face as you brush your nose against his. “I want to be yours.” You whisper and he smiles before he stands, with your legs wound around his waist. “Then be my girlfriend.” Tim whispers and instead of answering you press your lips firmly against his. He carries you up the stairs, his lips beginning to move more frantically against yours. His hands slide down your back to grab at your ass, causing you to gasp into his mouth.

He drops you unceremoniously onto the bed, his hands immediately sliding up to hook into your sleep shorts you have on. Tim’s lips pepper kisses along your collarbones and neck. Your back arches into him as you card your fingers through his damp hair, still mostly wet from the rain. Tim pulls your shorts down your legs slowly and groans softly when he sees you’re not wearing panties. He kisses his way down to the swells of your breasts. You start to lean up to remove your tank top but Tim reaches up and grabs your shirt between his hands before yanking, splitting the fabric in half. You moan as he does so, immediately pulling his head down to your chest. Tim chuckles against your skin as you arch against him, whining as his right hand slides between your bodies to toy with your clit. “God Tim,” You moan, your voice broken as you wriggle your hips against his hand. Tim’s lips latch to your nipple as he slides 2 fingers into your wet opening.

You spread your thighs wider for him as his teeth gently sink into your nipple causing you to cry out. Tim begins to quickly pump his fingers into you while whispering dirty words into the skin of your breasts. “Gonna cum all over my fingers baby?” His voice is husky and you can’t offer more than a frantic nod as he scissors his fingers open to stretch you. “Fuck Tim!” You cry out, your fingers curling around your bed sheets as he crawls down your body to latch his lips to your clit. He sucks your clit into his mouth to flick it with his tongue and as he does so you explode around his fingers but he doesn’t stop. Your eyes roll back as he continues to pleasure you, the overstimulation becoming too much. As you feel your orgasm approaching a second time Tim bites gently at your clit and it’s like a switch flips inside you, and you squirt all over him.

Your chest is heaving as Tim pulls away, quite literally covered in your cum. You blush hard as he wipes his face, his pupils dilated as he gazes down at you with a lustful smile. “Fuck baby you’ve never squirted before, you’re so sexy.” Tim growls as he leans down to press his lips against yours again, to try and kiss away your embarrassment. You feel the head of his cock nudging against your entrance and you immediately part your thighs wider to make room for him between your legs. “Mine?” Tim asks, his eyes soft as one of his hands reaches up to brush hair away from your face. “Yours.” You confirm, nuzzling your nose against his as he slowly pushes into you. With one languid thrust Tim slides all the way inside you, and you both gasp in pleasure. You press a hand to his hip to hold him deep inside you. Tim’s forehead presses against yours as he sits still inside you, “L’amour de ma vie.” He mutters, his French rolling smoothly off his lips. You smile as you press your lips to his, even though you don’t know what it means you’re sure it means something beautiful.

Tim pulls his hips back and gently slides back into you, and you see starts when he hits that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. Tim continues to slide sensually and gently into you before drawing his hips back and driving into you softly again. Your forehead stays pressed against his as both of you pant into each others mouths as you feel your high coming up on you again. “I’m gonna cum baby,” You cry out softly as you grab and claw at his shoulders. Tim continues his slow and steady pace, his lips finding the skin of your neck. With a few more swift thrusts into you, you come undone around his cock. Feeling you squeeze him Timothee groans, cumming inside you in gentle spurts.

Tim pulls out of you with a wince before rolling onto his back beside you. “What did it mean?” You ask as you turn your head to look at him. A cheeky smile crosses onto his face as he presses a kiss to your lips. “Maybe learn some French and you’ll know.” He teases and you roll your eyes as you hop up from the bed. Tim smiles as he pushes off the bed, “come on! We still haven’t finished the movie!” Your excited little voice calls from downstairs and Tim smiles while shaking his head. He doesn’t even bother to put his clothes on, you didn’t.

You really are the love of his life.

***taglist*** @irishbish @y2k-wildfire @newletas @londonmademedoit @80sangelics @swim-reaper @elisaaru

#Timothee Chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet smut #timmy chalamet #timmy chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet smut #lil timmy tim #smut #soft timmy

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sparkleofpizza · 5 years ago

Text

My oh my - Jason Todd x reader

A/n: Hey guys, this is the first time I am writing for Jason. Every time I listen to My oh my by Camilla Cabello I can’t help but imagine a story about him, so I just had to do it. Also, there is a part in here that I got inspired from Gilmore Girls because I am team Logan and I wish they ended up together.

Requested: no

Warnings: swearing, song inspired

Summary: They say he likes a good time, he comes alive at midnight, my mama doesn’t trust him, he’s only here for one thing, but so am I

Word count: 3.2k

It was very cold for a Spring night, even for Gotham. The moon was a full circle displaying in the sky, shining so bright, the streets wouldn’t even night lamps for you to know what’s in front of you - of course that wasn’t enough for a city like this.

You heaved a sight, surprise white smoke didn’t come out of your mouth. You felt as if your bones were freezing, hands stuffed under your arm pits as you were crossing them, trying to provide some warmth. God, why did you agree to go out on a night like this?

When your best friend and roommate Ari, called you earlier that day to declare you were going out, you were very very tempted to say no. Then you remembered all of the hard work you put into the last paper for a class at University, and decided that maybe going out with her wouldn’t be such a bad idea. What you didn’t expect was for her to barge into your bedroom an hour before you were supposed to go out, and pick up clothes that provided too little warmth. She said where you were going, this outfit would look nicer than the jeans you had picked.

A street race wasn’t where you thought you would spend your night. Damn Ari and her crazy ideas.

She overheard there was going to be a street race near Crime Alley, and that most people from University would be there so she said it would be cool for you two to go too. Well, it did sound a bit cool, if you were being honest. Street race? Sounded something from a movie, and you didn’t have many exciting memories to one day cherish and tell your kids and grandkids, maybe this could be one. If it ended badly, it would be one hell of a story, if it ended ok, then it would still be a cool story.

But now, there you were, standing alone in a crowd because Ari left to go to the bathroom with another girl from your shared class. You knew you probably should’ve gone together because you don’t ever stay alone in Gotham, specially at night. But hey, these are college people, your college people. Nothing bad would happen, right?

You took a sip from your drink, hoping the alcohol would do that thing where it warms you up and makes you feel fuzzy.

“Hey, princess. What are you doing here all alone?”

You turned your head to the side finding none other than Jason Todd. He had a red cup similar to yours in hand, his signature lather jacket, black pants and boots. His hair was that fluffy mess, and he look good as always.

You met Jason a few weeks ago at the University library, you both reached out for the same book. He said he was waiting for his little brother and was bored so he decided to take on the opportunity of free good books, he wasn’t a college student. And ever since you two kept bumping into each other.

Your cheeks warmed up at the words that left his lips. Princess. He had been calling you that ever since you two met at the library. You tried to push away the surprised look on your face at seeing him here, it does look like his kind of place. He looks like the kind of guy who enjoys adventures and adrenaline.

“I came here with my friends, but they went to the bathroom.” you said, smiling at him “What about you?”

“Well… I don’t have a date with me tonight, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

You adverted your eyes to the side, taking a deep breath, totally embarrassed. You didn’t meant it like that.

“Oh, that’s good?” It sounded like a questioned, God you are so awkward

He smirked at you.

“Glad to know you think it’s good I’m single. I happen to think it is good that you’re single, too.”

You frowned. Was he thinking that just because you didn’t have a date for the night, you weren’t able to have a love life?

“What makes you think I am single?” You questioned, hoping your frustration didn’t leak into your voice

“I am hoping you are. I mean, if you are dating someone, that person is an asshole for not being here with you tonight, this isn’t one of the nicest places in Gotham.”

You nodded, a small smiling tugging your lips. That was a nice safe, you had to give it to him.

“Is there a nice place in Gotham?” You ironized

You were born and raised in Metropolis, you were used to big cities and the down side of it, but Gotham? That was another thing completely different. A giant hole in front your high school because Superman and his cute little sidekick Superboy were fighting some bad alien? Ok, you can deal with it. A guy dressed up as a clown who laughs way too hard and torture people for fun while he fights a guy dressed as a bat? That you cannot deal with.

You didn’t understand why Jason thought what you said was so funny. He laughed, trowing his had back.

“I mean, did Batman just woke up one day and was like hey, what if I dress up as a giant bat and start beating up criminals? What was going trough his head to choose a bat?”

Jason couldn’t believe you were making fun of Bruce without even knowing it. It brightened his day so much, and the fact that you had no idea only made it better. He was going to tell the old man all about it later, so he could laugh even harder.

You smiled as you watched him laugh. He looked so beautiful.

“Are you cold?” He asked once he stopped laughing, he saw goosebumps in your arms

“Yeah, I forgot to get a jacket before I left my dorm.” You admitted sheepishly

Jason smiled at you, he had a nice smile. He shrugged off his lather jacket and placed it over your shoulders. It was warm from his body heat, and it smelled incredibly good.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him “But aren’t you going to get cold?”

“I can handle being a little cold, and if it gets too much, we can just hug each other?” He shot up his eyebrows

You you were sure you looked like a tomato.

Jason smiled at you. He had taken an instant liking at you when he meet you at the library, something about the way you smiled at him saying he could have the book and you would just get it after he was done with it, and how your voice sounded so sweet and your eyes looked at him like he wasn’t bothering you by taking the book you wanted. He was waiting for you to lash out on him when he said he was just wanting for his brother, something like “you don’t even go here and you are trying to get my book?” He was trying to get rid of those bad thoughts, he was used to being pushed aside and treated like he was a pice of shit bothering people on the street. He sometimes, specially after his death, forgot that maybe there was still nice and polite people in Gotham.

It didn’t take long for him to realize you were a good girl, a good nice girl. He mostly ran into you at the library and at the coffee shop at the campus. You always smile sweetly at him and wave. The first time Tim had caught that action, he stopped in his tracks and stared at Jason like he was an alien and he had just now realized it. You two were completely opposites, and obviously his brother would find it odd that you were waving at Jason Todd.

And meeting you tonight at a street race? That was not what he was expecting your next meeting to be like. He was there to gather some intel about the gangs that was participating and what Black Mask and the Penguin wanted with them. Finding you here was rather concerning, this didn’t seem to be your element. And it wasn’t, from what he had learned in your brief conversations during your random meet ups.

“Have you ever been to a street race before?” He asked, voicing a bit of his thoughts

You shook your head, hoping he wouldn’t find you pathetic “No. I normally don’t do this kind of stuff, I don’t know how Ari managed to convince me to come.”

He smiled “Yeah, this doesn’t seem like your kind of thing. But it is a good thing, I mean, this is kind of dangerous.”

“Oh God.” You muttered under your breath “Dangerous as I could end up in jail or I could end up dead in an alley?”

He decided not to answer. The first answer was that the GCPD was corrupted and that they wouldn’t really care, the vigilantes in the city did most of the job. That wouldn’t be a good start. And the second answer was that you could end up dead in an alley, and the probably would make you feel a bit scared, and he didn’t want to make you afraid of being there, because he couldn’t exactly say he could and would protect you if something bad happened. You would think he was just trying to show off, when in reality he actually really could.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Jason asked you after having watched a part of the street race

He, now, had a good idea of why Penguing and Black Mask were interested in those people. He had nothing better left to do, and hey, there you were right by his side even after your friends had returned. You were still taking to him, and using his jacket.

You thought for a moment before nodding your head. You told Ari you were heading out with Jason, and she gave you a knowing look before asking you to text her when you got back to the dorm.

You walked between the crowd of people with Jason right in front of you. At some point, he reached out for your hand and kept holding it, guiding you to God knows where. You had no idea why you agreed to this, you barely know him and you knew enough bad stories to know you shouldn’t be leaving with him. But he was so nice with you all of the times you talked, and he was soooo good looking.

You stopped in front of a motorcycle. He pulled the keys out of his jeans’s pocket and smile at you, handing you the helmet and climbing on top of his bike.

“My dad always told me to never ride a bike with a boy.” You smiled at him, playing with the helmet in your hands

Right now, Jason thought you looked breath taking, and all he wanted to do was kiss you. He wasn’t surprised at all by his thoughts as he had thought them before and before. What surprised him was the flirtatious tone on your voice, he couldn’t help but feel more attracted than before. You were polar opposites, and that was everything he needed in his life ever since he came back, someone to help him maintain balance.

“So what are you going to do, princess?” He questioned in a hushed tone

“Tonight I don’t want to be the girl that does what her parents says.”

And then you had placed the helmet on your head, and climbed on top of the bike, right behind him. You could feel Jason’s warmth, you were so close to him, and that cologne smell? You could stay like this, having your chest pressed agains his back.

“Then I suggest you hold on tight.”

He sped up, making you giggle in his ear as your arms wrapped around his body.

After spending most of the rest of the night together, around 4 am, Jason walked you to your dorm. You were still wearing his jacket, and you definitely didn’t want to take it off.

You had went out to get some food after driving around for a while, and spend most of the time sitting at a booth on a fast food, eating fries and sipping on milkshakes. He was a great company, and you enjoyed the way you could talk about a lot of things and never seem to run out of things to say.

You leaned on your doorstep, staring up at him with a small smile tugging on your lips.

“Thank you for tonight. I had a really good time.”

“Me too.” He smiled back at you “What do I have to do get to spend more nights like this with you?”

A devious smile took place in your face, you had no idea where de boldness came from, but the words flew out of your mouth before you could even properly think about what you were doing.

“If you kiss me, I might let it happen.”

And Jason didn’t wait a second to comply. His hands cupped your cheeks, bringing your face closer until your lips met. You stood on your tiptoes, meeting him halfway there since he was so tall. Arms wrapped around his neck, enjoining the warm feeling that spread on your stomach.

You pulled apart when air became necessary. You smile at him, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Goodnight, Jason.” You said, unlocking your door

“Goodnight, y/n.” He watched you walk into your dorm and stayed still until he listened to your door being locked again, just to make sure you were being safe

You felt as if you were walking on clouds. You couldn’t believe you had just said, what you had just did, what had happened tonight. It all seemed like it was part of some movie.

“You’re only arriving right now?” Ari groaned from the couch, making you jump in scare since you didn’t see her there “I was worried you didn’t text.”

“Sorry. I thought you would be out longer than me.” You pulled off your shoes “Did you have fun at the race after I left?”

“If I had fun?” She sat up on the couch “Did you have fun? I want to know all about your night with Jason Todd!”

You giggled, not quite believing it just yet. You sat on the arm chair, feeling your back muscle relax against the comfortable cushion, bikes don’t really provide back support and that kind of made your muscles sore. You wrapped his jacket tighter around your body.

“It was really nice, he is a nice guy.”

Ari smiled at you, asking you to keep talking, so you ended up telling her everything about your night with him. Usually, this was the other way around, she would tell you about her dates and what they did, if it was good or not. You are the single friend, always the single friend, this was a good change of scenario.

“I’m really happy for you.” She said “But I just want you to be careful, he has kind of a bad reputation around campus, and he doesn’t even go here. They say he likes to have a good time, just it.”

You nodded your head, understanding where she was coming from. But you wanted to have a good time too, so…

“I don’t think it’s a good idea you hanging around this Jason guy.” Your sister said on the other end of the line “Mom doesn’t like him.”

You rolled your eyes. You once, accidentally, slipped out that you have been hanging out with Jason when your mom called and you were getting ready to go out. She had asked you why you were wearing pants if it was so close to summer which meant it was hot, and you said and regret because it is uncomfortable to wear a skirt while riding a bike. Now, Jason was the bad guy.

“She doesn’t even know him.” You protested

“Yeah, and I don’t think she wants to.”

Well, if she keeps up this atitude about him then you don’t think you want her to either.

You heard knocking coming from your window, making you frown. You pulled your curtain away, seeing Jason standing on the other side of the glass, a small smile tugging at his lips, hands stuffed inside his jacket’s pockets, and hair pushed back in that way he knew you liked it.

“I have to go. There is someone knocking at the door.”

“At midnight?” Your little sister asked

“It’s Ari, she forgot her keys.” You lied, Ari was in her room fast asleep after having stayed up until 5 am doing a research paper “Bye.”

You ended the call, tossing your phone on the bed and opening up the window.

“Hey.” you said

“Hey.”

“Can I come in?” He asked in a low voice, probably not to get notice by anyone

“Sure.” You stepped back, watching him climb your window

“This always looked cooler in the movies.” He chuckled

You smiled at him when he got closer “I think you climbed the window very gracefully.”

Jason smiled at you, pulling you into him, enjoining your warmth and the calmness you brought him.

“So…” you looked at him “What are you doing here at midnight on a Friday? Well, Saturday.”

“I didn’t like the idea that we couldn’t spend this Friday together, it is kind of our day.” You try not to get the wrong idea by what he said, but it was true, you always hung out on Fridays, always coming up with different things to do, weather it was the movies, dinner, or reading books together “I knew you’d still be up so I decided to pay you a visit.”

“Thank you, I enjoyed the surprise.”

He leaned down, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. You hummed in approval, sliding your hands over his chest until his jacket had fallen on the bedroom floor. When you pulled apart, you stared wide eyed innocently at him, just now catching up to the fact that you had pulled a move on doing something more by sliding his jacket off of him.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked, stroking your cheek

You leaned in and kissed him again. Pulling him closer to you.

“Y/n, do you want me to go?” He asked one more time, against your lips

“No. I want you to stay.”

Jason kissed you again, you walked backwards, falling on the bed with him on top of you.

This was all you have been wanting for a while. Right now you didn't really care about all you have been hearing about Jason - ever since people found out you have been hanging out, they would come to you to say how he was just simply looking for fun, apparently he only ever showed up at the University when he either was there to pick up his brother, or he wanted to know about some party, or get together or whatever. But the Jason you got to know, he actually made plans with you outside of it, he didn't want to spend time with you just at a party you randomly met up, he wanted to talk to you, and take you to the movies.

People like to talk too much, but you weren't going to let his bad reputation come in the way of allowing you to have a good time. In a long time, you had met a boy who seemed to worth it spending your time with, and he always made sure you were enjoining your time with him.

You knew there was also the part that your mom didn't like him, all your life she always told you to never trust guys like him. But you have been doing the right thing all your life, always being the good girl who did the good thing and never got into trouble. Tonight, when you were with him, you didn't want to be her. Wasn't this what part of what college experience was like? Doing things you'd regret?

In the end, you knew you'd never regret having done any of this with him.

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood #red hood x reader #Red Hood X y/n #red hood x you #red hood headcanon #jason todd x y/n

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ragingbookdragon · 5 years ago

Text

I Can’t Believe You’re Dating My Best Friend PT. 1

Batsis x Roy Harper (Arsenal) Story

Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes

Author’s Note: I edited this so it reads better! Enjoy!- Thorne

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

The shrill sound of her ringtone startled her from sleep, and she fumbled along the nightstand beside her for her phone; her thumb slid across the screen and she brought it to her ear, words still laced heavy with sleep. “Mmm…hello?”

A chuckle sounded from the line followed by someone asking, Are you still in bed, babe?

She groaned and rolled over, squinting at the alarm clock. “Boy-Toy, it’s nine A.M. on a Saturday. Yes. I’m still in bed.”

A slight pause came from the line then he muttered, …Well, I can’t say anything because I’m still in bed too.

“Okay, well I actually have a reason for sleeping in. I save Gotham all night. Staying up playing video games isn’t reason for sleeping in.” she retorted.

“I wasn’t playing video games all night! And I do too have a reason, (Y/N)!”

She hummed, feeling the amusement. “Hmm? And what’s that?”

…Uh…okay…I don’t have an actual reason for it.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and placed the phone down, laying back and stretching; she let out a groan as her bones popped, then picked up the phone.

That was a load groan babe. You alright?

“Yeah…just my body’s way of reminding me of how I spend my nights.”

With your legs wrapped around me? He flirted and she could practically see him waggling his brows.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m hanging up now.”

Wait! I was just kidding! Sort of.

(Y/N) snorted. “You know, it's almost hilarious how easy it is to make you panic.”

You’re an evil woman.

She giggled and rolled out of her bed, moving to her bathroom. “I know.” She set the phone down and moved into her morning routine.

Am I coming over tonight?

(Y/N) paused as she was putting toothpaste on her toothbrush and looked at her phone. “I thought I was coming over there?”

Doesn’t matter where…so long as you do. He purred.

She grunted and shoved the toothbrush in her mouth. “The more sex jokes you make, the less I want to talk to you.”

You love me, babe.

She scoffed. “Jury’s still out on that one, Boy-Toy.”

I’m hurt, (Y/N). She grunted and began brushing her teeth, listening as he continued. Anyway…You came over here last week. We decided on me coming over this week.

(Y/N) spit into the sink, rinsing out her mouth. “You still have the key to the apartment in the east side?”

The one labeled…(Y/N)’s apartment?

She inhaled deeply and stared at the phone. “Yes Roy. The one labeled, ‘(Y/N)’s apartment’, would be the key I’m talking about.”

Why do I get the feeling that you’re exasperated right now?

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and picked up the phone, moving back to her bed. “I haven’t the faintest clue as to why you’d feel that way.”

Uh huh. Sure.

She smiled. “But to answer your question, yes, that is the key.”

So, what time do I need to be over there?

“I’m free all day, so get here early, and we can spend the day together.”

You aren’t worried about your family finding out about the two of us?

“I’m not the one who’s going to get beaten to a bloody pulp when my brothers find out who I’m dating. That’s a you problem.”

She heard Roy let out a sarcastic laugh. So much for we’re all in this together.

(Y/N) let out a laugh. “Get a move on, Wildcat.” She heard him shuffle around.

I’ll be over there in about an hour.

“Alright. Meet me at the boardwalk.”

Will do. Love you, (Y/N).

“Love you too, Roy. Be careful.”

(Y/N) hung up the phone and put it back on the charger, moving back into her bathroom to shower. Once she was finished, she pulled on a pair of jeans and her Gotham Blades hoodie, and left her room, descending the stairs into the breakfast room.

She stepped in, taking in the view of her family gathered around the breakfast table. She moved beside Alfred, kissing his cheek before moving to her father and doing the same; she took her seat between Jason and Tim. “Good morning family.”

She received various replies, and Jason looked at her. “Where are you going today, Princess?”

(Y/N) glanced at him and sipped on the coffee Alfred put in front of her. “Nowhere special. Just out and about.” He nodded and her phone buzzed; she looked at it and laughed quietly, shaking her head before shoving it in her pocket.

Someone hummed and she immediately scowled knowing it was Dick. “Jason. Was that a giggle she directed at her phone?”

Jason nodded at their eldest brother’s question. “I think it was, Dickie.” He leaned in. “Who’d you get a text from, Princess?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “None of your business. That’s who.”

Dick leaned across the table with a smirk. “Is it a boy?”

“Is it any of your business?” she retorted, glaring daggers at him.

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “You seem very reluctant to answer the question, sister.”

(Y/N) sighed at her younger brother. “It’s just a friend, Damian.”

Tim snorted into his coffee cup. “No, it’s not. Not with that laugh you just gave.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s just a friend and who he is, is none of your business.” She stood up. “So, leave it alone.” She walked around the table to her father, and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek again. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

(Y/N) started making her way to the garage when she heard scraping chairs followed by scrambling feet. She turned as she was getting into her Camaro. “What the hell is wrong with you all?”

Jason stared at her. “What do you mean, ‘I’ll be back tomorrow’?”

She gestured vaguely with her hand, repeating, It means…I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“And where are you going to be?” Dick questioned, squeezing into the doorway beside Jason.

“Take a wild guess where I’m going to be all night, Dickie.” She smirked and gave them a wink as their eyes went wide; she climbed in the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition.

They ran over, standing on either side of the car; Jason tapped on the window. “Roll the window down, (Y/N). Now.”

She pulled a confused expression. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” She motioned to the glass, then her ears. “Sound-proof glass—can’t hear you!” His face pinched and she heard Dick tap on the other window.

“(Y/N), where are you going?!” he shouted.

Reaching up to the visor, she hit the button to open the garage, watching it fold up in front of her, and she looked over. “What was that?”

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING!” Dick shouted louder this time.

She pulled a mock look of concern and asked, “You don’t want me to call you all night?” She put a hand to her chest in hurt. “Dickie, that hurts my feelings that you don’t want your baby sister to call you! Especially since we talk every night!”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I SAID!” he slapped the window to accentuate his point. “YOU KNOW THAT’S NOT WHAT I SA—"

“Don’t worry, I won’t!” (Y/N) waved and though they tried to stop her, she hit the accelerator and took off, hauling down and out of the gate, cackling the entire time.

***

The drive to the boardwalk went smoothly, save for the time she had to put on ‘do not disturb’ on her phone because her family wouldn’t leave her alone about where she was going. When she got to the boardwalk, she called Roy.

He picked up after a few rings. Hello?

“Where are you, Roy?”

Pulling into a parking spot. Where are you?

(Y/N) looked around, staring outside her windows. “In a Camaro.”

Roy sighed. Babe…do you know how many people drive Camaros in this state?

“Well…statistics show that eleven percent of people ages eighteen to twenty-nine drive Chevy’s. What percentage of those drivers are Camaro drivers, isn’t known.” She listened to Roy sigh again and she giggled. “Have you ever seen Transformers?”

Yeah...why?

“My Camaro looks like Bumblebee.”

She heard Roy slam his car door. Put your flashers on really quick. She did. Alright I see you. Be right there.

(Y/N) turned off the car and opened the door, sticking a foot out to prop it open while she pulled a piece of paper out and began jotting a few words down before sticking it on the console, her phone laying just next to it.

Someone opened the door from where it lay against her shin and asked, “What are you doing, babe?”

She snorted before opening her glove compartment and pulling out another cellphone. “Leaving my family a friendly note.”

“And what does this friendly note say?” Roy chuckled.

She climbed out of the car and shut the door with her hip then wound her arms around his middle, smiling, “Says, ‘Get a life and stop budding into mine, losers.’.”

Roy chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist, the other resting on the top of the car as he leant her backwards against the door. “They’re not gonna have fun when they find out you ditched your phone and car.” He moved his lips against her jaw, pressing a kiss to her skin. “They’ll lose their only way to track you.”

“That sounds like their personal problem and not mine.” (Y/N) breathed, tipping her head ever so slightly for him.

The corner of Roy’s mouth rose, and he pressed one final kiss to the underside of her jaw before he pulled away, holding out a hand. “Well…since you’re not worried about the rest of the night…shall we go have some fun?”

She nodded and laced her fingers through his. “Where do you want to go?”

He hummed, eyes scanning the expanse of the boardwalk. “I could honestly eat right now…you?”

“Food sounds great.” She paused and looked at her phone. “There’s a Hard Rock Cafe a couple blocks from here. Want to go there?”

“Do they have burgers?”

“What do you mean, ‘do they have burgers’? It’s the Hard Rock Cafe. Of course, they have burgers.” Slowly, her face dropped, and she gaped at him. “…Don’t tell me you’ve never been to one.”

Roy gave her a weak smile. “Guilty.”

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and she started dragging Roy behind her. “I can’t believe you’ve never been to an HRC. It’s practically sacrilegious to live in the US and not eat there.” She tossed a look over her shoulder. “You’re an abomination, Roy Harper. A goddamn abomination.”

“And you’re dating this goddamn abomination.” He retorted with a smile. “So, what’s that say about you?”

“That I’m probably on the Highway to Hell. But if I’m going, I’ll go laughing.”

She watched Roy’s head tip back as he chuckled, then he glanced at her, wiping his eyes. “I swear you and him are just like each other.”

(Y/N)’s eyebrow rose. “Who? Jason?” He nodded and she grunted. “We are not alike.”

Roy pressed a kiss to her hand and grinned at her. “Oh, yes you are.”

She glared. “Agree to disagree.” Roy shook his head and let her lead them to the restaurant.

They’d gotten there rather early and being ahead of the lunch crowd meant they were seated in a decent spot. The waiter had given them their menus and walked off, leaving them to decide their orders and after about ten minutes, the restaurant had been hit with the first wave of lunch-goers.

Roy looked around at the families enjoying a nice Saturday lunch and murmured, “Pretty busy today, huh?”

(Y/N) didn’t draw her eyes from the menu as she replied, “It’s Saturday, Roy. Everyone’s out for the weekend.”

He merely hummed in response and glanced at the menu. “So…what’s good here?”

“Are you reading the menu, Roy?”

“Let me rephrase that,” he laughed. “What do you recommend?”

(Y/N) grinned and flipped her menu around. “Any of the burgers, but I usually get the Original Legendary with a Mango-Berry Cooler to drink.”

The drink sounded alcoholic and with a frown he started, “(Y/N), babe…you know I don’t—”

“The Mango-Berry Cooler is nonalcoholic.” She interrupted with a knowing stare and he shut his mouth; she smiled at him. “I wouldn’t drink in front of you like that. Or recommend an alcoholic drink, Roy. You know me better than that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck feeling rather foolish for thinking she would do something like that. “I know, (Y/N)…sorry.”

She waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.” Taking his hand, she rubbed her calloused thumb over his knuckles. “I’m proud of your sobriety, Roy. I know it’s been a long road and it’ll always be one. But I’m here to support you. Always will be.” (Y/N) watched his face light up and she felt her heart flutter.

“Thank you, (Y/N). Really.”

Winking, she whispered, “Always.”

***

The server brought their food and they started eating but halfway through the meal, Roy happened to look out the window, and choked on his drink. (Y/N) put down her burger and leaned forward. “Oh my God. Are you okay, Roy?”

He coughed harshly and motioned to the window, spitting out, “B-Bro—thers!”

(Y/N)’s eyebrows drew together, and she glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough all four of her brothers were there in line; her eyes widened, and she put her head down. “Motherfucker!”

Roy tipped his hat down. “What are we gonna do?!”

She panicked for a second before waving a server over. “Yes miss? Is something wrong?”

Motioning to her brothers, she asked, “See those four boys over there?” His eyes flitted to them and he nodded. “Those are my brothers, and this boy here is my boyfriend…who also happens to be one of my brother’s best friends…and we also haven’t told them about us.” She smiled. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

He chuckled and nodded. “Yes, miss. If you’ll follow me, I can lead you to the back door.”

(Y/N) sighed, and somehow, they managed to make their way to the back exit without being seen. She turned to the server, pulling some money from her wallet, handing it to him. “Here’s two hundred…for the meal, tip, and the escape route.” He stared at the two hundred-dollar bills and she spoke again. “Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?” He nodded and handed it to her, watching as she jotted down some words.

She handed it to him. “Give that to them before they leave, would you?” He nodded again and she winked. “Thanks!” She took Roy’s hand and they sprinted out the backdoor, taking off back to the boardwalk to his car.

When they got there, they leaned against the hood of his car, catching their breaths. He motioned to her. “What did…you write…on that paper?”

(Y/N) let out a breathless giggle. “I wrote, ‘You’re getting colder, losers.’.”

The two of them started laughing and when they finally caught their breaths, he looked at her. “Wanna head to the apartment?” She nodded, and they got in his car.

***

The drive over wasn’t too far and when they got there, she collapsed onto the couch and groaned; (Y/N) felt him sit down beside her and she twisted her head up to look at him. He smiled down at her. “You good?”

She nodded and inched forward, resting her head in his lap. “Just tired.”

“Tired…or bored?” Roy snorted and (Y/N) laughed.

“Both?” He chuckled and they sat in silence for a while, Roy flipping through the channels on the TV. After about an hour, his phone rang; he picked it up and grimaced. “Who is it?” she asked.

“Your brother.”

“Which one?”

“Jaybird.”

(Y/N) motioned to the phone. “Put it on speaker and let me listen.”

He sighed and answered it, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

Roy.

“Yes, Jaybird? What can I do for you?”

I thought I told you to stop calling me that.

Roy shrugged. “You did…but you aren’t here, so…” (Y/N) grinned at him.

Whatever jerk-off, it’s beside the point. Have you seen or heard from (Y/N)?

“Why? Is something wrong?”

She heard Jason sigh. We think she’s spending the night with a boy, but we can’t find her. She’s been giving us the slip all day.

Roy looked down at a grinning (Y/N), who was struggling to hold in her giggles. “Oh yeah? Master-Escape-Artist-Miss-Batgirl is giving y’all the slip? Who would’ve thought she was capable.”

Look smart-ass, have you seen her?

“Not today I haven’t.”

Damnit.

Roy smirked and looked at the phone. “Can I ask you a question, Jaybird?”

I’m seriously going to throat punch you if you call me that again.

“Uh huh, sure, but in all seriousness, why’re you so concerned about (Y/N)? She’s a grown woman—she can handle herself.”

Well for starters, she’s my baby sister. She’s not old enough to spend the night with a boy.

Roy laughed. “Dude, she’s twenty-two. She’s not the innocent little angel that the city of Gotham sees. Far from it in fact.”

There was a long pause and when Jason spoke again, he sounded suspicious. And how do you know that, Roy?

His eyes widened, and he glanced down at (Y/N). “Uh…I just…do?” Her eyes went wide at his response and she gaped at him, motioning to the phone; he muted it.

“Are you out of your goddamned mind, Roy?!”

He threw his hands up. “I panicked!”

“No fucking shit!” (Y/N) cradled her head in her hands. “Oh God, he’s gonna figure out its you.”

Roy whined. “No, he won’t.”

She opened her mouth to speak when Jason came back over the line, his voice quiet. I’m tracking your phone, Harper. Their eyes went wide, and they stared at the phone. If I get over there and I find (Y/N) with you…I’m gonna rip your spine out through your ass.

The line went dead, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, then she offered, “You wouldn’t happen to have your suit with you…would you?”

“Should I go put it on?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I think we should get out into the city…we’re in so much trouble now.�� The two of them hurried into the master bedroom, shucking off their clothes to suit-up.

Roy stared shamelessly at her as she slipped her suit on. “Hey, Batgirl?”

She didn’t look at him as she pulled the zipper. “What?”

“Think we’re gonna get out of this alive?”

(Y/N) barked a laugh as she twist-locked her gloves in place. “Absolutely not. I assume that tonight, you’re going to get your ass kicked…repeatedly and I’m going to find myself the subject of unwanted lectures about dating brother’s best friends.”

Roy didn’t even seem fazed by it, nodding, “I figured that was what was going to happen.”

She nodded and walked over, wrapping her arms around his middle. “We’re in this together, Arsenal.” (Y/N) hummed and moved her hands to his butt, squeezing it. “Or should I say Ass-senal? You know what? I could just say ‘Arse-nal’ since ‘arse’ means ‘ass’.”

Roy reached behind him and grabbed her hands, walking her backwards until her she hit the wall; he brought her hands above her head and stood between her legs. “What is it with you and touching asses?”

She stared up at him with an eyebrow arched. “Was that rhetorical? Or do you actually want my answer?” Roy chuckled at her and she continued. “I mean I like touching your ass.” She leaned as much as she could and glanced at it before moving back to him. “It’s a nice ass. Nicer than Wally’s even.”

The hands around her wrists tightened ever so slightly. “Have you been touching Wally’s ass?”

(Y/N) giggled. “I touch everyone’s ass. Especially nice ones. Like Wally’s.”

“Wha—Why?”

She shrugged. “If he’s a cutie, gotta tap that booty.” (Y/N) watched Roy’s contort and she burst into giggles. “Oh, your face was so worth that line.” His grip loosened, and she looked at him, then his hands moved to her haunches, hoisting her up against the wall; her legs went around his waist and she moved her arms to his neck. (Y/N) narrowed her eyes and smirked at him. “What’s wrong, Roy?”

He glared at her. “You really like walking the line don’t you, babe?”

She shrugged innocently, murmuring, “See Boy-Toy, it’s not so much walking the line as it is seeing just how far I can get before someone calls me out.”

Roy smirked at her. “Good thing I’m around to do it for you.” (Y/N) simply grinned at him and he leaned in, his lips brushing hers. “Think we have time to shake sheets?”

Before she could even response, the front door slammed shut, echoing through the apartment. “Roy! Where the fuck are you! I know you’re here!”

The two of them glanced towards the door and she muttered, “No, Roy…I don’t think we do.”

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artxyra · 5 years ago

Note

I got another request! So, Jason is Red Hood at the time when he sees Marinette clutching a backpack (it has the miraculous box inside and some essentials and clothing) as she was falling from a portal (even tho a cloud was covering it so it looked like she was falling from the sky) into a river. He jumps in, saves her, and says something like "Holy sh*t I just saved an angel" He stays hidden for 2 weeks helping her until the fam meet her. [Anything you want from here but end goal is daminette]

It was close to midnight when the Red Hood notice that something was up. Little did he knew was that his next encounter with someone would have changed his entire life. He looked up to the cloudy night sky that always plagues Gotham, nothing felt out of the place. Well, the moment lasted into his begins to see a silhouette of someone falling from the sky. The person was coming down fast, real fast.

Rushing to what he presumed to be the persons landing grounds, he failed to realize that the person wasn’t going to reach the cold hard concrete ground but the river not far from him. As the person was falling quickly than anticipated, he ditched his jacket and ran towards the river.

Splash. Splash.

He breaks for air pulling the formerly falling person with him to shore. Back on dry land, the Red Hood was finally able to get a good look at the person he saved.

“Holy shit, did I just save an Angel?” He whispers to himself brushing back strands of dark hair that clings to the girl’s face.

Looking around for any signs of help coming, he picks the girl up into his arms and disappears into the night, not caring that it was his night to patrol.

Marinette woke up the next day with a massive headache. Quickly leaning upward, she calls out for Tikki as she searches through the blankets looking for her backpack. It hasn’t registered to Marinette that wasn’t at home nor was she in Paris anymore.

Tikki flies up to Marinette, giving the panic guardian a sense of reassurance.

“Where am I? Kaalki?” Marinette finally takes in her bearings as she touches face noticing the lack of glasses that is the horse miraculous.

“Kaalki’s fine, Marinette. Your entry coming here was rather shaky.” Tikki states keeping close to Marinette as the realization hits her. Turning to the side table, Marinette sees the horse miraculous and puts.

“Kaalki, where did that portal send us?” Kaalki finally appears but she scoffs and looks around the room.

“The portal sent us to a place called Gotham. In the Americas, apparently.” Kaalki answers before flying off to who knows where.

“Gotham, like in the Batman comics?” Marinette says before groaning resting her hand over her forehead and lay back down. All she could do is think, how was this possible.

“Hey Angel from the sky, you alright in there?” A voice startles her out of the bed. She stares at the tall muscular man in front of her. He has a turf of white in his dark hair, blue eyes, and wearing the worst kind of leather jacket she has ever seen in her life.

Racking through her brain, she tries to find the words to say in English, “Uh… and you are?”

“I should be asking you the same, but the names Jason, and you look like someone who has been trucked over, twice,” Jason says cautiously take a few steps forward.

Marinette’s shoulders relax. “I’m Marinette.”

Marinette walks over to Jason, shaking his hand, thus creating one of the most cherished siblings’ bonds ever created in the city of Gotham.

Over the course of a week, Jason quickly learned that Marinette’s English wasn’t that great (she knew basic English, but then again who doesn’t know anything past basic English), he also learned that Marinette was only sixteen almost seventeen, just a year younger than this youngest brother. Marinette had learned that Jason lives by himself in this rundown apartment complex, though he does spend a handful of times over at his adoptive family’s house. She also learned he really enjoys guns and rock music, so of course they bond over Jagged Stone’s latest new album.

At the beginning of her second week in Gotham, Marinette was growing anxious and a little stir crazy. After Jason had left to go to work, she decided that it would do her and the kwamis well to leave the apartment and explore. She doesn’t know why, but she found herself drawn to the park.

Pulling out the remains of one her sketchbook, she finds a dainty little bench underneath a tree far away from people. Looking around, inspiration hits her, so she begins sketching out an outline.

Marinette doesn’t know how long it has passed until a ball dropped in front of her. She sets the sketchbook aside and is immediately greeted by black Great Dane wagging his tail. Marinette giggles before bending down to search for a name tag.

“Titus?” Marinette mutters before scratching Titus’ head and neck.

Titus nudges the ball towards her getting the message to Marinette. She managed to play ball with her new furry friend until a concerned voice calls out the dog’s name. The person she assumes is Titus’ owner walks in fury towards her direction.

“Hi, he came over to me…” The owner cuts her off turning his attention to the dog who wags his tail in the owner’s face before walking over to Marinette. Marinette tries and fails to conceal her laughter.

The owner sighs and turns his attention to Marinette, “Damian.”

“Damian,” Marinette test the name, “Well you have a very nice dog. Actually, I’m very thankful for him pulling me out of my zone.” She holds out her hand. Damian shakes it after a moment of eyeing her down.

“Titus does have a tendency to do that.” She’s beginning to wonder if Damian was a person against small talk or better yet talking about himself.

Marinette bends down to say goodbye but not before wishing to see him and Damian again in the future.

Damian turns to Titus who does the same, and Damian could have sworn that he says a smirk on that dog’s face.

After their first encounter, Damian and Marinette continuously met at the park. Their second encounter was by pure accident. Marinette had wanted ice cream the following day and decided to enjoy her soft serve back on that dainty bench. Titus wanted to get out again, so Damian took him back to the park around the same time. After that, they decided to meet at the park every day around the same time.

As another week past by, Marinette finally began to wonder what was going on in Paris. She doubts that any besides her parents would care that she was missing, but she can’t help but wonder whether that person (or group) that was after her left Paris alone.

As Marinette grow closer to Damian, she did the same with Jason. He even took her to the shooting ring for practice one night and was blown away by her aim. Jason now swears that if Bruce doesn’t adopt his newly claimed sister then he would find a way to do it legally.

After having Marinette to his lonesome for two weeks, Jason decided that it might be best to introduce her to the family against every bone in his body. He knows that Marinette is hiding something, but it also seemed like she didn’t know what she was hiding also.

“Hey Pixie-Pop, you would you mind coming with to B’s house?” He asks on that faithful Sunday morning, which is odd considering Sundays were the days he typically leaves Marinette to herself.

“Sure,” She pauses for a moment, “Are you sure that they wouldn’t mind? I hate to be—” She rambles on getting a chuckle out of the older male.

“Nah, Pixie-Pop, they wouldn’t mind.” He tells her easing her growing anxiety.

Marinette smiles up at him before rushing into the guestroom that slowly became her room.

On the back of Jason’s bike reminded her of her Nona. In fact, every time she rides with him it’s a constant reminder of her Nona, the rush of wind blowing through her hair. The feeling of someone close to you knowing that you’re most likely being protected. Marinette had dreamed of getting a bike of her own when she older and in case she can never return to Paris perhaps Jason would be willing to teach her.

“Jay-Jay this a house, it’s a mansion.” Were the first few words upon entering the Wayne Manor grounds. Jason laughs it off by rubbing her head and motioning for her to follow him.

“Sup nimrods, I’m back and I brought a guest. Treat her right and there will be no bullets shooting tonight.” He calls out to the group of people settled into the room.

Marinette squirms underneath all the glances she was receiving but upon seeing the familiar sight of green eyes and a certain Great Dane, she slowly became at ease.

“Hey Damian, I didn’t know you lived here.” Well, ring the alarms because immediately she is greeted by screams of all kinds some projected to the green-eyed teen while one was projected to her.

Ignoring the commotion that is aimed at him, Damian curtly nods to Marinette as Titus rushes over to her. “Hi, Angel.” Cue another round of commotion.

So, dinner was a complete mess, well not like food is thrown everywhere kind of a mess but it was an emotional disaster. Tim was knocked over the table, the like of caffeine and sleep finally getting to him. Dick and was having a heated conversation with Jason about Marinette, all while Bruce sat there in silence. Secretly he was hoping for the chance of grandchildren in the future if this girl can make it through with his family.

Once Damian had finished his food and notice how uncomfortable Marinette is, they managed to disappear down the halls to who knows where. Alfred walks in shaking his head all while cleaning up the dishes.

Marinette ended up moving into Wayne Manor just days after the dinner at the request of Jason who ended up tag-teaming with Bruce. It didn’t take her long to figure their secret identities and it wasn’t long after that when they question her as to why she was declared missing and presumed dead in Paris. Let just say that was another heated conversation because it unleashed a whole lot of emotions.

Damian finally worked up the courage to ask the bluenette out after her staying with them for over a month. Both of them were too afraid of ruining the friendship they created. Not long after they started dating, Marinette learned that the people who were after her in Paris were a part of some cult under the name League of Assassins. This is then prompted Damian to talk about his past and Marinette telling the family that she had known their identities for quite some time. It didn’t them long to meet the kwamis and adding Ladybug to their personal alliance.

Marinette only went back to Paris after some convincing from the Batfamily to at least give her parents some sort of closure that their daughter is safe. She took Kaalki to make the trip easy. Her parents were, of course, mad at her for not contacting them sooner, but after she explained everything it was Sabine that had some choice words to say to some “old co-workers” of hers from her early teen and adult years. As much as they didn’t want Marinette to leave, her parents knew their daughter was happier in Gotham than she ever was after the whole Hawkmoth ordeal and even both that. Her missing person case was closed, and Marinette went back to Gotham with the promise to come to see them again in the summer.

Damian and Marinette finally shared their first kiss with each other after a couple of months of dating. It was Titus that pushed them to do at the park underneath the bench where they meet.

#maribat #platonic jasonette #daminette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc crossover #ml crossover

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malfoys-demigod · 5 years ago

Text

Exchange Student - Tim Drake x Reader

Summary: You’ve been offered a one year exchanged student program at a private boarding school at Switzerland, leaving a jealous Tim back at Gotham who plans on finding a way to join you.

5 months ago

One week until summer ends. One week until till you left for Switzerland. One week left until you left your long time crush, Tim Drake.

You had to tell him sooner or later otherwise he wouldn’t emotionally cope with the fact that his best friend would be half across the world for a whole year.

So there you were, in a coffee shop with Tim where you were planning to break the news. But you were nervous. Tim could see this as you carefully sipped from your coffee. “You alright, N/N? Does your coffee taste odd? I could always buy you a different one.”

‘Here it goes.’ You thought. You took a deep breath and looked at Tim, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Tim.”

“Oh?”

“Few weeks ago, the school contacted my family and I, saying I was offered to be apart of a exchange student program for one year in Switzerland. I’m leaving next week as I start school there the same time you start school here.”

Tim chocked on his coffee and took a full 5 minutes to process the information which saddened his heart. “Switzerland?!? That’s like 6,282 kilometers away from here!”

“I know, Tim.” you held out your hand to hold his.

“Couldn’t you have said no?” he gave you a guilty look

“Why would I turn down such an offer? Besides it’s only for one year and we can always call. You know that.”

“Or I could visit every month?” He wiggled his eyebrows

“Yeah, sure, as if Bruce would let you travel 6,282 kilometers every month.”

“You know I’ll miss you, right?”

“Of course you will, Timmy. You can’t live without me!” You rolled your eyes.

—

Present Time (5 months after)

You just sent Tim another casual picture of you and some boys you befriended, updating him on your life at Switzerland with the caption, ‘Spending my Saturday at the Zoo with Luca and Gabriel. Miss you, Timbers.”

Tim was fine with the self weekly update until you made friends with Luca and Gabriel, the two Swiss students who were appointed to show you around the school on your first day and they’ve been nothing but kind-hearted and great. Seeing that some Swiss boys around you made him jealous, upset that he’s not physically there to swarm off all the boys, especially those two whom he seems to admit they’re good looking.

As Tim was pacing around to calm himself down, he was interrupted by his concerned brothers who happened to have been watching his behavior lately. It was time they asked him what was going on. Dick knocked on the semi-opened door peeking his head in, “Hey, Timbo.” he said entering the room with this brothers.

“Hey.”

It was dead silent for a few minutes until Jason grew impatient of it. “You miss her, don’t you, Drake?”

“Tt. Of course he does. Why else would he be like this, Todd.” Damian scoffed.

Tim sat down, placing his hands on his face. Dick happened to have seen a familiar face on Tim’s phone. He picked it up to see your recent text. “But at least she constanty texts you. It’s not like she forgot about you.”

“The more she hangs out with those two good looking guys, she might.” Tim said in defeat. “If only the program accommodated me as well.”

“I suppose father can do something about it.” Damian figured.

“But half the year has been wasted!”

“So?”

—

The next week

You were walking to your next class, sleepy yet still managed to head to your last class for the day. Honestly, you didn’t care about today’s lessons. It was Friday and you were looking forward to relaxing over the weekend. So you started to doze off on your desk.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you tell us the answer to my question?” your teacher tried getting you to wake up.

You shot up, looking at your teacher with sleepy eyes. “Uhm.. I’m sorry. I don’t know the answer to your question.”

“Very well... Mr. Drake, perhaps you’d know the answer?”

‘Drake?!’ Now that got your attention. You turned your head to the person two rows in front of you to your left. Timothy fucking Drake.... in your class... IN SWITZERLAND WITH YOU?!? You hope your weren’t dreaming. How was Tim here?!?

As class ended, you ran up to him to give him a bone crushing hug in which he returned. After that, you managed to slap him as hard as you could, giving him a shocked face. “Mind telling me how you’re here?!?”

“Bruce pulled some strings.” He proudly said.

“Because?” You impatiently raised an eyebrow.

“I missed you.” He huffed.

You blushed and chuckled, “So the texts and calls weren’t sufficient?” You crossed your arms.

Tim shrugged, “Maybe I was jealous of seeing those two hot shots around you.”

“You? Timothy Drake, jealous of Luca and Gabriel? The famous hot shot couple?”

Tim embarrassingly laughed and scratched the back of his head, “Oh, I wasn’t aware of that...” “But you’re right, there’s one thing why I’m jealous of what they have.” He said, stepping closer to you.

“Oh? And what would that be?” You smirked.

Tim cupped your face and had his lips meet yours, softly kissing you. You returned the kiss, deepening the kiss more. As you pulled away, Tim said, “That would be their relationship. Would you like to be mine, Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Course I do, Timmy. I’m so glad you came all the way here.”

“Anything for you, pretty-bird.”

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watchtower-feed · 5 years ago

Text

Death Do We Part (Part 15)

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧ Words: 2,700+

You rest your head on your knees as you look at Tim. Your lips tremble as you watch him struggle with his thoughts.

He stares at his hands with narrowed eyes before you hear his broken voice.

“... I don’t know if I want to be Robin anymore.”

The morning dragged on agonizingly slow with Tim hiding in your room, Bruce nursing a drink in the kitchen, and Alfred sitting beside him. But when Bruce’s phone rang and the hospital told him that his son, Richard Grayson, was just admitted into Gotham General, everything sped past like a blur.

The city traffic buzzing through the car’s window. The loud reporters hounding you at the entrance. The doctor’s mouth moving in silence as he reads from a chart, explaining Dick’s condition. You were only picking up words like critical and surgery.

The first thing you became conscious of was Alfred’s hand on your shoulder. “Y/N. He’s going to be okay.” You didn’t even notice your tears until he was wiping them away.

It’s past midnight in the hospital room. Tim is sleeping on the couch. Alfred is in an extra bed. Bruce had just stepped out for coffee. And you’re still awake, curling up in the armchair closest to Dick. You’re holding his hand and looking at the fringes of his hair lying on his forehead. Slowly you loosen your grip to brush them back, but Dick’s fingers curl around yours.

You’re too busy staring at his hand when he opens his eyes.

“Hi…”

You cover your mouth to trap the sob that’s lodged in your throat. “Dick--”

He smiles. “H-hey hey. I’m okay.” He sounds exhausted but he still tries to laugh. “It’s just-- what? Like broken ribs again?”

You frown at him, “One punctured your spleen, Dick. They had to stitch it up during surgery.”

Dick chuckles, “Another one? Man. I swear I get one every other month. I probably passed out on Jason.”

“You were with Jason?” your voice hitched a little but you lower it right away and check on Alfred and Tim.

“Oh yeah… we had a nice little chat…” Dick’s looking at you now while frowning. “So… you’re leaving.”

You pause and then look down when you answer, “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from Jason since yesterday morning.”

Dick raises one eyebrow and teases you, “The morning after?”

“Shut up,” you snap at him in a whisper, making him snicker quietly. You blush but you can’t help give a small laugh as well.

Dick smiles at you.

“He told me you were leaving and I was hoping to charm the two of you into staying.” He gives you a look, one that’s both sad and disappointed. “But I don’t really think that’s an option, huh.”

Dick squeezes your hand and your voice is a lot softer when you answer, “He killed the Joker, Dick. In front of Bruce.”

“Yeah. He told me.”

“And you almost died, too.”

Dick laughs, “Ye of little faith in me, Y/N. I had those guys--”

“But the bomb. That one was real--”

Dick shushes you. “Jason’s friends got me off the bridge before it went off. Guess you guys were too busy watching Jay and Bruce’s fight.”

Dick slumps back against the pillows and stares at the point where the ceiling and the wall meet. “I hate to say it but Jason thought of everything.”

Tim grumbles in his sleep and you both turn to him. Once the rise and fall of his chest becomes even, Dick speaks again.

“This must be hard on Tim, huh?”

Tim has been tossing and turning in his sleep. When he was in your room, he checked on his wound and was surprised to find that Jason had changed his bandages when he was unconscious.

You watched Tim’s surprised look slowly morph into one of anguish. He didn’t know how to believe that Jason and the Red Hood were one and the same. Or is he just a persona Jason created to do what he can’t do. To protect the hard truths he wanted Bruce to realize.

You close your eyes and slowly climb into the bed next to Dick. He makes room for you and you carefully curl up next to him.

“He told me he didn’t want to be Robin anymore,” you whisper.

Dick pats your head and hums to himself.

“If I was Jason and Tim-- I was them. I was Robin and I always thought… I always saw Bruce as more than just Batman. He was my dad and my friend. He was my protector.”

When Dick’s hand stops moving, you wrap your arms across his chest and hug him tightly. You can feel the even breaths he’s trying to maintain but failing.

“But after what Jason did--” you can hear him clenching his teeth as he speaks, “After realizing that Bruce will always be Batman--to everyone-- more than anything else in the world… it shatters something in you, like you’re not special...”

Before your life turned into this living tragedy, you always thought Batman was just a myth. You’ve seen him sure, leaping and gliding over rooftops from your window and from the streets, but you always knew he was just a man playing pretend. Maybe a police officer finally fed up with the red tapes and the joke that is the Gotham justice system.

You always thought Batman was just another Gothamite who just got sick of being battered and bruised.

“It doesn’t mean I agree with Jason, though.” Dick’s voice is a little lower. He’s giving you a long look with the same sad and disappointed expression. “His heart’s in the right place but Y/N, he’s the one who doesn’t understand.

“When Bruce first brought me in, my parents were murdered by this guy-- Tony Zucco-- just a typical low life mobster in Gotham you know-- no one like the Joker. But when I became Robin, Bruce’s greatest concern was whether I would seek vengeance against that guy.”

Dick’s gaze strays away from you. He’s looking somewhere past his feet, seeing something that’s not there.

“I had him, Y/N. I tied him up and suspended him over a ten-story building, half hoping he would die, or break every bone in his body from that height and live out the rest of his days as a vegetable.

“Then Batman came out of the shadows. He didn’t stop me. He didn’t talk to me-- he just put his hand on my shoulder the whole time, while I stood there and held this man’s lifeline in my hands.”

Dick closes his eyes and takes a deep breath but he doesn’t open them again. The skin at the corner of his eyes crease and there are folds in his brows. When he speaks again, it’s rushed and he sounds exhausted.

“In the end, I couldn’t do it. I dropped him from the third floor. He broke a few bones and that was it. It didn’t make me feel better. Killing him wouldn’t have brought my parents back-- it also wouldn’t prevent another family from ever being murdered…

“Jason thinks he can get rid of evil in the world by killing criminals but he can’t. Because everyone is nursing evil inside of them-- I have something evil inside me.”

Dick’s lips are quivering when he opens his eyes again.

“Batman is the only one that doesn’t because all he wants to do is protect... everyone.”

Bruce has heard enough. He’s been standing outside the hospital room with his hand on the handle when Dick started talking about avenging his parents. Desperately, he wants to go in there and join you and Dick. But the writing on your arm pushes him to visit the rooftop instead.

He steps out to meet Gotham’s foggy air and reaches the end of the ledge when he calls out, “Worried about Dick?” He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t hear Jason’s footsteps approaching him from the shadows, but he knows he’s there. “You should be. He’s here because of you.”

Jason stops abruptly and clenches his fist. “Wrong. He’s hurt because of your self-righteous courtesy toward the psychotic filth of Gotham.”

Bruce turns around. Jason doesn’t have his helmet or his mask. He’s wearing a black trench coat but Bruce can still see the Red Hood symbol peeking from his chest. Bruce lifts one corner of his lips. “How does it feel?”

To Jason it looks like a smirk on its ways to becoming a snarl. Any semblance of a smile on Bruce is unsettling.

Bruce faces him fully with his hands in his pants pockets. “Now that you’ve killed half of the inmates in Arkham, how does it make you feel?” He watches Jason and lowers his brows and his mouth turns into a straight line. “Like it’s not enough. Right? Like there’s still a few more loose ends-- and you just have to be sure.

“I know you went after Penguin and Dent after the club last night. I also know you’re still after Harley.” Bruce eyes his clothes.

Jason tips his head to the side and replies to Bruce with a small smile.

Bruce tries to control the urge to arrest Jason then and there. He tries to stop being Batman for just one second before he loses his son for good. He takes in a breath and releases it like a sigh. He takes out his hands to gesture to Jason.

“If I could give you one last piece of advice. As a father. As a friend. Ask yourself if this is the type of person you want Y/N’s soulmate to be. Do you want her to be with a murderer?”

Jason didn’t expect that. He was ready to have another go at Bruce, maybe their last showdown before he leaves town, but now he just feels insulted.

“Fuck you, Bruce. I just want her safe-- To do a better job than you did for me. Be better than you.”

Bruce shakes his head. “You can do that without taking another person’s life, Jason. Killing people will only put your lives in more danger.” He points to Jason’s chest. “And you-- the Red Hood-- are a testament to that.”

Jason looks down, the crimson symbol on his chest peeking at him from his loose coat. The Red Hood is supposed to be just a means to an end. A myth strong enough to withstand the Bat’s. A new player to hook in the Arkham villains. Not someone who’ll join their ranks.

Jason looks back to glare at Bruce.

“I didn’t come here for a lecture.”

The pause Jason gave didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce.

“I assume you’re here to see Y/N,” Bruce replies. “She’s talking to Dick. She hasn’t noticed your message yet.”

Bruce walks up to Jason and sizes him up. Jason watches as his demeanor changes. Bruce stands taller, his shoulders seem to go wider. Jason doesn’t need to see the cape to know who’s standing in front of him now.

“Leave Gotham before sunrise.”

Jason can see himself reflected in Batman’s eyes. He suddenly looks like a child. The kid sleeping on the streets of Gotham. Scavenging in the garbage just to get by. Stealing to survive.

Bruce sees his own reflection in Jason’s and it terrifies him. He relaxes his shoulders and leaves his eyes half-lidded. Slowly, he lifts his hand and places it on Jason’s shoulder.

“Take care of each other, son.”

Bruce takes back his hand and starts walking to the door but Jason slaps something against his chest. Bruce looks down and sees that it’s an envelope. He looks back at Jason but he’s looking away from him.

“Give it to Alfred… please.”

Bruce smiles. He gives Jason a small nod before he takes the letter and leaves the hospital rooftop.

When Jason hears the doors close shut behind him, he lets the panic settle in. He first feels its claws scratching at his throat on its way up to his mouth, prying it open, making him gasp for air. Jason jumps when the door slams open.

You see your soulmate standing on the rooftop.

“Jason?”

You run to him and wrap your arms around his shoulder, as far as you can reach. He bends down and you hold him tighter. “You’re okay!” you exclaim against his coat. “I passed Bruce on the way here and I thought--”

“Y/N.”

Jason’s voice is shaky. You pull away to take a look at him but he holds you tight against him. You feel it now, the way his lungs are expanding rapidly and his heart is beating hard against his chest. He’s gripping your clothes as he pulls your body closer to him, afraid to let go. Afraid you’ll let go.

“I want to stay…”

The Joker had killed him and it killed you. The League had planned on using you against Jason. Scarecrow poisoned you. But now they’re gone. Dead. The Joker. Scarecrow. Black Mask. Bane. Croc. Clayface. Penguin and Dent.

Jason killed them all.

“You told me to find a better life. Away from all of this, remember? And I wanted that.” Jason hides his face on your shoulder and you can feel his tears seeping through your shirt. “I wanted that for both of us. But how could I do that if we have so many enemies? How could I do that if they can come after us at any second?”

Battered and bruised.

Dick’s wrong. Jason doesn’t have evil inside of him. None of them do. Everyone is just broken. Cracked under the pressure of the city’s heavy fog and manipulated into playing a never ending game of survival.

You glare at the horizon of the drab cityscape. Yellow lights left on all night. Sirens blaring at every corner. Sewer stench wafting toward the roofs. If Gotham hasn’t broken you yet, it will tomorrow.

You hold on to Jason tightly.

“It’s okay, Jason. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not, Y/N. We can’t stay-- I can’t stay.”

“I know…”

You rub Jason’s back to soothe him.

“It’s not just the Joker,” you whisper. “Gotham did this to us. It’s taken something beautiful from us-- our link-- and used it to abuse us. It tore us apart and made us forget who we are.

“We can’t stay here. We need to leave Gotham not because we’re not welcome. But because we need to heal, Jason.”

Slowly, you pull away from Jason to take off his coat. He watches as you unzip his kevlar vest and lets you take it off of him.

You stare at the symbol in your hands and silently thank it. Then you drop it on the floor. Jason is too stunned to stop you when you reach for one of his guns inside his coat. You fire two shots into the vest.

This is something you feel you need to do. Jason got to kill the Joker, the phantom menace that has haunted your dreams and waking moments. You only get this. The barrel is still smoking when you return it to him.

You pick up the vest and walk to the ledge of the roof. You pull back to gather as much momentum as you can and throw the vest out and down into the busy streets. You watch the Red Hood fall to its death until you can’t see it anymore.

Jason holds your hand and you turn to face him. He watches the look on your face, determined and unmoving. As if you hold all the cards and you know exactly where to go. He’s never seen such an expression on you.

He squeezes your hand

“I’ll go anywhere with you, Y/N.”

Just before the sun rises over, you’re already on a bus heading West, far enough away that even Wayne tower’s shadow can’t reach you. You pat the bag on your lap that has some clothes and your new identities.

As the bus crosses the bridge, Jason is watching the subtle pink and orange light peeking over the ocean that meets Gotham harbor. It’s a rare sight and one you’ll both miss. He turns to you.

“Hey,” Jason calls. “Look at your arm.” He takes out a pen. You watch as Jason writes on his arm and finally finishes his last words to you.

I love you.

END.

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#ssa #jason todd #red hood #superhero soulmate au #DC imagines #DC fanfiction #DC reader insert #Jason Todd imagine #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd x reader #Red Hood imagine #Red Hood fanfiction #Red Hood x reader #watchtower-feed #atbucud

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entertainment · 6 years ago

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Entertainment Spotlight: Will Vought, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Actor, comedian, and writer Will Vought stars in the most recent season of the critically acclaimed dramedy series, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Additional television credits include The Good Wife, The Good Fight, both Lipstick Jungle and Love Bites, Bones, and Wilfred. Will is also an accomplished comedian, having toured the country opening for Wayne Brady. He got his start in the entertainment industry by contributing to Scott Shannon’s #1 morning show on 95.5 WPLJ, offering David Letterman updates and recaps, which opened the door for him to work for Late Night with Conan O’Brien. Following his work with Conan, Will was offered a position in the West Wing of the White House, working for former President Bill Clinton, where he still continued his radio work on the weekends as the youngest morning show host in the country at just 22 years old. Will went on to serve as head writer for Wayne Brady during his time hosting the The Late Late Show prior to James Corden in 2014 on CBS, and he continues to collaborate with renowned actor and comedian Paul Reiser, including shopping a television pilot they wrote together with Julie Bergman. We got the chance to ask him some questions. Check it out:

Do you have a favorite character arc from season 3 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?

For Season 3, I’m finding myself really interested in Susie and her journey. I don’t want to spoil it for those getting ready to start the new season or binge the series; however, in the first two seasons, Susie’s been hustling and primarily being of service to Midge while her personal life hangs on by a thread. In season 3, there are so many more layers introduced and opportunities that will ripple into not only her clout as a comedy manager but also her personal life. Also, I’m really invested in Lenny Bruce. Having read so much about him to see his plight on screen told through Amy’s lens is incredible. I don’t know anyone in comedy that doesn’t appreciate what Lenny Bruce did for comedians. The end of the Season 3 premiere is absolutely priceless seen thought the eyes of Tony Shalhoub’s Emmy Award-winning performance as Abe Weissman - Midge’s father.

If everything that you did was narrated, whose voice would you want narrating your life?

HA! That is a great question, and I’ve had to think about it. At first, I thought of the late great voice-over artist Don LaFontaine who moviegoers would remember as the “In A World…” guy who made millions voicing almost every movie trailer ever! BUT…truth be told I think that I would love Seinfeld's voice and lens, and I think it would make my day to day activities far more entertaining to listen to, especially when on the phone with my therapist.

Can you tell us about a time you bombed (on stage or in an audition)?

Well…the thing that pops to mind was an audition for NBC’s series called Lipstick Jungle. At the time, I was living on Long Island and decided to make the mistake of driving into Manhattan for the audition. Traffic was abhorrent, and you would think that there were mass casualties on the Long Island Expressway resulting in me being almost an hour and forty-five minutes late for the audition. The director of that episode was the one and only Timothy Busfield, whom I loved on Arron Sorkin’s The West Wing. Tim played reporter Danny Concannon - Senior White House Correspondent.

I had no idea that Timothy was going to be at the audition and was mortified when I showed up and saw him in the room because I was so late. It’s not unheard of to not be seen at all if you are late, let alone hours late. I read for the part and left. Tim was gracious. A month later, I got a call saying that I didn’t book that role; however, they were writing me another role and wanted to hire me for it. While on set shooting, Tim told me that when they asked him if he had any ideas for the part and he said, “That guy who came in 2 hours late. He was great. Hire him.” So I thought I bombed — but it worked out in the end.

The USO Tour scene from The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel broke the record for the most number of background actors used in a scene for tv in the state of New York (850). What was it like being a part of such a huge production?

I’ve never worked on Star Wars, but that’s what I was thinking of when we were filming that. It was by far the largest set I’ve ever been on, and yes there were almost 1000 background actors there for almost an entire week, who made up the audience of the USO show that you see in the season 3 premiere. When I met with Amy and Dan for the final audition for the role of Major Buck Brilstein, it was at Steiner Studios in Brooklyn in a small room that’s not much larger than a small studio apartment in Manhattan. It was the three of us and Emmy award-winning casting director Cindy Tolan. We did all the material from the episode, and to juxtapose that to being in an actual hanger with 1000 extras essentially filming a USO show that’s scripted — it was a historic moment in television that wasn’t lost on me.

What was the audition experience like for your role on The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?

I kind of talk about that above. I had a great experience. As with anything, you have to go in a number of times, and then the final callback is with Amy and Dan Sherman Palladino. You are 2 feet away from her, there is a camera, and Cindy Tolan, the casting director, and you create the world and do the scenes — WORD PERFECT! That is a huge thing, and something I was told going in. Be word perfect every time. Their words are like notes on a page. Each one carefully picked and placed, and my job is to take them off the page and bring them to life with a sensibility of 1959 and a guy that’s a major in the army who always wanted to be a comedian but never really got the chance. So, my character is literally living his dream in this episode. Beyond that, you bring your A-game, nail it, and it’s up to Amy and Dan. It happened to go my way, and as I told Amy, I was grateful to get the invitation to play in her world. She wrote and directed this episode, so it was extra special.

Is there a specific role or moment that you feel has defined your career up to this point?

We’ll — this is pretty significant re: working with the Palladino’s. I thought that The Good Wife was a big deal at the time — as I was part of Bob and Michelle King’s storyline that revealed Josh Charles’ character was murdered.

It seems that I’m only allowed to act opposite actresses that have won 2 Emmy’s and 2 Golden Globes for Best Actress. LOL. It’s truly a hard question to answer as each project is different, and as an actor, you hope that one job will open a door or opportunity to another. That’s what I’ve found, at least over the past few years, so it’s certainly a slow burn.

Years ago, I was the low man on the totem pole at NBC’s Late Night with Conan O’Brien. I was an intern in the writing department under John Groff and often got the chance to appear in sketches on the show. This was an invaluable experience. There was an afternoon where I asked Conan (as I was cleaning his office) if he knew this was what he was going to do from the beginning. I’ll never forget what he said. He told me that, “In his wildest dreams he never thought he would be hosting a late night show.” He described show business as being on a highway. He was a writer in college, wanted to be a writer and set off on the highway with the goal of writing in mind. Along the trip, there were exits: Mad Magazine, The Simpsons, SNL. After each exit, he gets back on the journey. If you want to be a teacher or doctor or lawyer, you know exactly what to do. Go to X school for X years, and then they declare you as such. Boom. You’re it. Hollywood is not like that. Everyone’s path is so different, and how we get to where we are is almost inconsequential when compared to the culmination of the journey. I’ve been blessed to do a lot of different things so far and work with incredible talent that truly moves the needle in this business, and I hope for more opportunities.

What’s your favorite bit or joke from one of your stand-up sets?

I have a new bit I’m working on that’s fueled by my natural anger toward this situation.

I hate paper straws.

If this makes me a horrible person, so be it. If “they” think I don’t care about the EARTH or ENVIRONMENT and support the extinction of humanity because of this — so be it.

Paper straws? Really? Who did this make sense to? Who thought it was a good idea to combine PAPER and WATER?

I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time — but it doesn’t work. Three sips into my iced coffee and the thing has disintegrated, and I’m now drinking iced coffee and paper!

If you think paper straws are a good idea, let me ask you one question. Would you like to use a paper condom?

In the future, you’ll be standing in the rain telling your friend you can’t understand why she’s pregnant and soaking wet from holding the paper umbrella.

I will say that if we do switch to paper condoms …. I don’t know about the environment, but we will absolutely ensure the survival of humanity.

Lighting round! Describe each of the following in one word: Who you are, what you value the most, and what you’d be if you were a food item.

I AM WILL VOUGHT.

I VALUE MOST: MY SON.

IF I WAS A FOOD ITEM, I’D BE A BEYOND BURGER!

What are you working on right now?

Right now, I’m working on sending out subliminal messages via Transcendental Meditation to Adam McKay for a coffee meeting that would result in being cast on the 3rd season of Succession on HBO. I’d text him, but I don’t have his cell. Do you?

Thanks for taking the time, Will! Catch Season 3 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel on Prime Video.

Photography: Emily Assiran | Grooming Laila Hayani | Styling: Natalia Zemliakova

#entertainment spotlight #will vought #the marvelous mrs. maisel

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whereflowersbloom · 5 years ago

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I liked you first

Part 1.

Damian Wayne stared at himself in the mirror and adjusted his vibrant green tie that goes perfectly with his emerald eyes once more. Debating if he would much rather rip it off or he should feign illness, to get out of this mess his brother got him involved in. He’d rather be working at the office. Hell, even going with Barbara shopping. Alright, he admitted to himself the last one was a lie. Who was he kidding? Damian Wayne on a blind date? He was certain this would end up badly. Anything but going on this blind date. He’d enough if all the frivolous women going after him because he was the heir to the Wayne fortune and the next President of Wayne Enterprises. He had no desire to start dating despite his family’s pressure. Barbara complaining he urgently needed some feminine company, to decrease his stress level and irritability. Tim mentioned carnal release was the answer. Jason. That idiot. Jason suggested perhaps he was more interested in the opposite gender. ‘Don’t worry, D. In this house we love you, no matter who you decide to bone.’ Those were Jason’s words. Damian growled. That bastard. That wasn’t the reason.

But this wasn’t any blind date. He’d have turned down the date pushed at him, by his oldest brother, Richard and his fiancée Kory, at least they were tolerable. They thought it was about time for him to get out there and find himself a decent woman.

But this date the one he couldn’t turn down, unavoidably, the one he was agonizing over the last week, going through different outfits until he picked meticulously one. It was his childhood friend’s sister. Rachel Kent. Jonathan Kent’s sister. His best friend, who in all likelihood had no idea he was going on a date with his precious sister. Not that he hated the idea of dating her. But Rachel was a childhood memory. She was a child the last time he saw her, that was when his father decided to sent him away, to study abroad, in Switzerland, where he spent almost 10 years. Jonathan had cried his eyes out and begged his Father to let him stay. He had vague memories of a dark-haired girl with electric blue eyes, running away to hide in the old barn that day.

Some of his best childhood memories were spent in the Kents farm; exploring the woods, climbing trees, making forts, morning picnics, laying on the stored hay in the barn, with his best friend, Jon and their Labrador retriever, Krypto.

For reasons he couldn’t understand Rachel was constantly hiding from him. Nevertheless, there were times were he caught her gazing at him thoughtfully, but immediately when their eyes met she’d look away and pronounced an excuse to leave the room as soon as possible. Always walking away from him. It pissed him off. He recalled asking Jon several times the reason behind her baffling behavior. He simply shrugged it off saying it was nothing, every time. Tsk. What was there to dislike? He found himself frowning annoyed at the memory. His ego obviously wounded. Why did she agree to this date if she couldn’t even stand him? She was a little girl back then, maybe she changed her mind.

He reached for his phone that had been on silent the whole time. His eyes stopped on three missed calls from Richard, a meeting reminder eith the board directors tomorrow at 10:00 am. That was covered, he spotted another reminder for his date tonight at 8:00pm. A date he was seriously considering to reschedule, yet a part of him wanted to go out of curiosity.

About 30 seconds later his phone was buzzing. Damian rolled his eyes, he didn’t need to look at the screen to identify the caller.

“Anything you forgot to mention, Richard or you would like to escort me in person?” He answered in an ice-cold tone.

“Hey, I worked hard to set this up for you?” Dick replies defensively.

“Do I need to remind you I didn’t ask for this? But thank you for finding new way to torture me, brother.” He tackled sarcastically.

“Who knows, you might even thank me one day, little brother.” Richard joked, letting out a chuckle. He heard Damian say ‘I highly doubt it.’ “But no one likes to be stood up, Dami.” Richard remarked serious.

“I’m going to kill you, Grayson.” He threatened his brother, anger in his voice.

“Damian, I’m serious. You better show up or I’ll come and find you and kick your stubborn ass personally.” He spoke firmly and frankly. “Aren’t you running late?” He added.

Damian sighed there was no way out of this. “I’ll be there on time. You have my word.”

“Wow. No bailing. I’m proud of you. She’ll meet you there. You know, our usual place.” Dick reminded him, sounding more excited than his own brother. “Be a gentleman and escort her back home. Rachel is Clark’s treasure.” He finished.

“I got it, dad.” He muttered with irony before hanging up.

He took the suit coat hanging on a chair. He looked at himself in the mirror again, making sure everything was in order and he looked well groomed. Presentable. And he did. He wasn’t nervous. At all. No. He didn’t have to commit more than a dinner. A brief conversation, a decent meal, a bottle of wine, get her home safely, and he could be on his merry way. No other obligations. It would be over.

Damian Wayne had no idea how wrong he was.

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