#I get nervous when there are guns around the Drake children

[cinamun]

Just one question | Next

[justmypartner]

Make it Work: Chapter 6

Summary: When offered a permanent position with the FBI, Hailey agrees to take it under one condition: Jay comes too. As their personal lives and work lives begin to change, the two partners find it increasingly difficult to navigate their complex relationship and manage their feelings for one another.

Writer’s Note: How’s everyone feeling after last night’s finale?? I’ve been feeling so many things, and this chapter did not help lol but it was super fun to write and I hope you can forgive me for the angst! As always, thank you so much for reading!

Tagging: @angelsjedi , @brookerz122493 , @cpdfan2014 , @the–carousel , @maya-asturias , @itsdesiree86​ , @tvshowsaremyhappyplace 

Read on AO3 or below

Several days had passed since the veteran’s convention case. Jay woke up out of breath, drenched in sweat with his heart racing several nights in a row following the case. His normal techniques weren’t working, so he met virtually with his therapist back in Chicago a few afternoons after work. He put in the work and before he knew it, he was back to sleeping through the night, nightmare free. He had kept his distance from Hailey during it all, not wanting her to know he was dealing with residual effects from the case. At first, she pushed against his distance, but she eventually granted him the space he needed. After three full nights of sleep, he was finally feeling himself again. He got up earlier than usual, stopping by his and Hailey’s new favorite coffee shop before heading into the office. She was already at her desk by the time he arrived, so he made his way over and dropped the cup on her desk with a light smile.

“Thank you,” she said, a twitch in her voice as if she were surprised by the gesture. “Finally feeling social again?” She asked as he dropped his coffee on his desk and pulled his chair out.

“I am. I just want to say thank you for giving me the space I needed… and for not asking why,” he told her. She smiled at him, looking down at the cup before bringing her eyes back up to his.

“Of course. Glad you got everything sorted out,” she returned with a warm smile.

That moment was the last time that day either of them felt anything resembling joy because they spent the next 13 hours working the hardest case they had taken on since they arrived in New York. About an hour or so after they had gotten into work, Drake received a call from an undercover agent who had been in deep with one of the major drug distributors in the city. The agent had gotten in close with the daughter of the crime lord, learning she had valuable information about his operations that she was willing to share if they could help her get away from him. Drake sent Walker and Daisy to pick her up, leaving Hailey and Jay to question her. They learned the dark reasons behind why she was so eager to get away and flip on him. Seven years ago, when she was just 14 years old, her dad began pimping her out to his associates, forcing her into a life of prostitution and drugs for the sake of his business. She felt trapped by the power her father had over her and the entire city, and it was only when she developed a close bond with the undercover agent that she felt like she had a real chance to break free from the abuse.

As they listened to the girl’s story, Jay could see Hailey slipping deeper and deeper into a dark place. Cases like this always prodded at her, touching that raw part of her that easily made her lose focus. He stuck close throughout the day but remained quiet knowing the last thing she’d want to do was talk about it. It was the silent support they were always able to give each other that he knew she needed. They gathered all of the information they could from the girl, setting up teams to take down the man’s stash houses and bring him in before he could get a chance to try and figure out who flipped.

Through the young girl’s intel, they were able to seize all of his product and shut down all of his operations, but he was on the run, desperately trying to get out of the city. Unfortunately for him, Hailey was desperate too. She insisted she and Jay worked out of the car, keeping in contact with every available law enforcement resource in the city to track him down. They were out and ready so that the second somebody had a lead on his whereabouts, they could be the ones to take him down. The sun was beginning to set when they got a call about security footage picking his town car up on the George Washington Bridge. Analysts were able to quickly find out that the target kept a jet in a hanger in Jersey, and the second the information was relayed back to Jay and Hailey, they were darting through traffic to cross the Hudson and catch him before he could get in the air.

It was one of those dramatic scenarios that felt straight out of a movie. The plane was rolling down the runway and Jay had his foot pressed to the gas, challenging the pilot head-on. The space between the car and the plane was closing in, and Jay’s heart rate picked up as he held steady in his speed, certain the pilot wasn’t stupid enough to keep the challenge going long enough to see how it would end. Sure enough, the plane began to slow, and he pulled around the side of the motionless plane, right up to the door with the angle and space needed if the two of them had to take cover.

“FBI come out with your hands up,” Hailey called out, positioning herself in the space of the open door, resting her elbows on the top of the car and door. Jay recognized a harshness in her voice that she seemed to only reserve for guys like him. The ruthless ones with no regard for children, more specifically their own children.

The door opened and the pilot came out with his hands raised high, their target and his guards followed close behind with guns and hands raised in the air. Hailey came out from her cover, way quicker than Jay would have liked, but he backed her, following with his gun raised out in front of him as she made her way to the three offenders. Jay took the guards as Hailey approached the target. From the corner of his eye, Jay noticed her gun still pointed at the man as he cuffed the guards. She brought it close to his chest, standing off with him as they eyed each other.

“Give me a reason,” Jay heard her say through gritted teeth.

“Hailey,” he called out to her, sending a disapproving look. Her gaze remained on the man, and she went around him kicking the back of his legs and sending him to his knees. Jay watched as she pressed her muzzle to the middle of the man’s back. He took a deep breath, staying quiet but watching her intently. He knew she never would kill him right there in cold blood, but he also knew she was hovering a fine line. One he had put himself on numerous times before in situations that would have ended much differently if she hadn’t pulled him away from it.

“Hail,” he called out once more, this time much quieter as if it were just the two of them standing there on the tarmac. With this, her eyes drifted over to Jay and met his look of concern. She brought her gun to her holster and firmly brought the man’s hands around his back. Jay let out a sigh of relief as he called for additional units to transport the men.

“You’re not worth it anyway,” he heard her say close to the man’s ear as she tightened the cuffs around his wrists.

When they got back to the bullpen to complete their paperwork for the day, Hailey worked quietly, deliberately avoiding Jay’s concerned gaze by burying her head into the files. She finished before him and headed out without a word to anyone. Jay knew the case had stirred up something in her, but he wasn’t sure how to address it or even if he should.

He finished his paperwork and headed home, spending the entire walk debating whether or not to show up at her door. A few blocks away he stopped in his tracks when he eyed a liquor store on the corner. It’s what she would do, he thought when he found himself entering the store and buying a bottle of tequila. It was a habit of theirs to force their company on the other when a case hit a little too close to home. They’d done it countless times before, but for some reason, on that night, Jay had a sinking feeling in his chest. He felt almost nervous, but he pushed through it as he pressed the buzzer to her apartment.

“Yeah?” Her quiet voice echoed through the speaker.

“It’s me… bearing tequila,” he said, leading to a loud buzz as the door to the lobby unlocked. He made it to her door, leaving three rhythmic knocks on the wood before taking a small step back. When she opened the door, he took in the sight of her probably less discretely than he would have liked. She wore an oversized shirt and a pair of running shorts that barely peeked out from the bottom hem of her shirt. The shirt was a light blue color that complimented her eyes so well, and it was so big the sleeves covered her hands. It made her look smaller than usual, and he couldn’t help but think about how adorable she was. He diverted his eyes quickly to the bottle in his hands to break the lingering stare.

“Figured you could use this after today… and some company,” he said timorously. She flashed him a fake smile before stepping aside and letting him in.

He stepped in, taking off his jacket and resting it on the back of the barstool in her kitchen before grabbing a pair of glasses and making his way to her couch. They sipped on their first glass in a comfortable silence, a low hum of music radiated from her stereo in the corner, and Jay could feel himself loosening up with every drop of alcohol that entered his system. By the third glass, they were both well loosened up, talking about anything and everything but the case for almost an hour.

“Are you okay after today?” Jay finally asked, the liquor giving him enough courage to try and push through that wall Hailey had put up much earlier that day.

“I don’t know,” she breathed out with a shake of her head. “I just don’t know how a parent could do that to their child,” she said, staring blankly in front of her before letting out an amused snicker. “Not that I have room to talk really, my father wasn’t exactly parent of the year.”

Jay looked over at her, thinking about her father for a moment. He knew only the few things she had revealed about him, but he had a clear picture of what type of man he was. This made him realize why the case got to her so much. The cases involving fathers and abused kids always did, and for good reason. It also made him think about his own father. Neither of them had any luck in the dad department, something they both became well aware of through the years.

“You already know, but my father and I had anything but a healthy relationship. I mean, he was nothing like that guy today or even yours, but he made me realize what kind of dad I don’t want to be,” he said before taking a swig from his glass. She looked over at him with a concentrated frown, like she was thinking deeply about something. Her eyes had a slight glaze. Jay convinced himself it was from the booze, but it could have also been because of the touchy subject they had just entered into. Her bright blue orbs held steady with his like she was looking right into his soul.

“Do you think you’ll want kids someday?” She finally muttered, holding steady in her gaze.

“Yeah… someday. You?” He said simply, a flutter building up in his stomach at the way she was looking at him.

“I used to be against it. I’ve always loved kids, but when I was younger I told myself I would never be like my father… or my mother even, and I figured the only way to avoid it was to just skip parenthood altogether. But, as I got older and started working cases that involved kids, I realized it was possible to be a decent parent even after going through what I went through. Sort of like you said I can use what I was given as a guideline of what not to be. I can give a kid everything I never had while also knowing exactly how to protect them from everything I did,” she said quietly. It was such an idyllic thing to say, and she put into words how he had felt about parenthood his whole life. Suddenly, he was imagining a world where they could each give that to a kid together. A kid that was the perfect blend of the two of them.

“You’d make a great mom,” he whispered, the words slipping right out of his mouth. Any other time, the statement would have created a weirdness between them. The entire conversation strayed from that of a normal conversation between partners, but for them, in that moment, it felt normal. She didn’t smile, she didn’t look nervous, she didn’t even try to protest, she just peered over at him from her side of the couch with a deep look, almost like his face was covered in a code she was trying to solve.  

“You’d make a great father,” she finally muttered after a few seconds of silence, maintaining the gaze between them. They were both still, trapped in a mesmeric gaze as the low hum of the music from her stereo filled the silence that fell upon them. Before he could say anything back, she stood and positioned herself back on the couch only inches away from him. Jay’s knee was tucked in, as his other leg hung over the couch and his chest rose and fell quickly at her new proximity to him. They were facing one another, close enough he could feel her breath against his face, and her knee came to rest on his, sending his heart racing even more in his chest. She brought a hand up and delicately began to trace her fingers on his skin from his brow, down the side of his face, and finally finding rest at his jaw.

“You’re a good man, Jay,” she whispered, and he closed his eyes as his breath shuddered with her touch. The alcohol in his system combined with the intoxication of her touch made him lose all inhibition. The part of him that always pushed down his feelings for her was gone, and all he wanted in that moment was to tell her how he felt. Show her that she was so much more to him than just his partner.

“Hailey,” he began, his breath coming out in irregular puffs as her hand remained on his face.

For a moment, he could have sworn he noticed her eyes drift from his eyes to his lips. But the tequila had created a fuzz in his brain that prevented him from trusting himself. He closed his eyes once again, ready to lay everything out and take a leap that could change their relationship forever, but suddenly he became hyper-aware of the alcohol coursing through both of their systems. This isn’t the way I want this to go down, he thought to himself. He opened his eyes, letting out a deep sigh before grabbing her hand from his face and holding it in his.

“We’ve had a lot to drink, I should go,” he said, standing as she wrapped her hand around his, grasping it tightly as he increased the space between them. It was like she was trying to pull him back to her, but more importantly, pull him back to that moment he was trying so hard to flee from.  

“I’ve gotta go,” he said, almost with dread. She nodded lightly, her eyes falling to the floor as his hand slowly pulled away from hers. She had a look of disappointment on her face, and he knew that even though he didn’t say a word she knew exactly what he was about to say before the sliver of inhibition he still had left pulled him back to reality.

He pulled his jacket on and made his way to her door. He paused and looked back at her, her stare still transfixed on the floor.

“Goodnight, Hailey,” he told her. Causing her eyes to raise from the floor and meet his from across the room.

“Goodnight, Jay,” she said sadly with a knowing look.

As he walked home that night, he dwelled on what almost was. He was seconds away from laying all of his cards on the table, from finally knowing what her lips felt like against his, but he was ultimately relieved that there was a part of him that was still sober enough to recognize that they deserved a moment so much better than a drunken kiss or confession. When the time came, he wanted their moment to be something that happened with a sound state of mind, not something that only happened because of a bottle of tequila. With that relief also came a looming sense of dread. If they both woke up the next morning with a clear memory of the almost moment, he knew there was bound to be a shift in their relationship. One that came with awkward interactions and avoiding one another. Part of him went to bed that night hoping there was enough alcohol in both of their systems to just forget about it entirely.

[bowieandqueen11]

Dating Nathan Drake Headcanons

Request: I saw that you wrote for Uncharted! I was wondering if you would do “dating Nathan drake would include” maybe him and y/n have known each other for forever? Please? Love you 💜💜 

It’s been so long but I am still so emotional about Nathan Drake so thank you <3

Comments are always appreciated!

You and the infamous Nathan Drake actually met for the first time while you were children, at the Saint Francis Home (we’re pretending it’s a unisex place here y’all). The first night, you were so afraid and so lonely that you kept on wrestling around your bed, unable to sleep.

As fate would have it, Nathan couldn’t sleep either, he was too busy sitting up and waiting to see if Sam would come visit him, as he had promised. Besides, the sound of you thumping back and forth across the springy, uncomfortable mattress was enough to wake even the heaviest sleeping nuns up in the dormitory the next building over.

Finally, when he couldn’t take anymore, he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. Tip toeing across the floor, trying not to wake anyone else up, he came over and sat on the edge of your bed, looking down at you expectantly.

‘I’m Nathan. Do you want some chocolate milk? I know the best way to sneak down into the kitchens without Father Duffy finding out.’

From then on, the two of you were as thick as thieves, and just as troublesome.

During some of his worse days while you’re both still stuck in the home, you would be the one to try and clean him up and keep him out of trouble with the nuns. He would constantly start fights if someone said something mean about his mother, and in time he was shocked himself to find that he’d attack anyone who said something bad about you as well.

It would always end up with your fingers grabbing onto his as you drag him away and back to your dormitories, pushing him onto your bed as you ran to the bathroom and tried your best to wet a bunch of paper towels with some cold water. When you came back to dap them onto the cut just above his eyebrow, he would always frown, embarrassed to be caught in such a state, but when he looked up at you, actually trying to help someone like him, his eyes would soften everytime without fail.

Although, you would always end up in a fair amount of trouble too. This often came after you had sneaked out with Nathan to go see Sam. Someone would always spot the three of you driving around the estate on his motorcycle, or would spot a scuff on your chin from where you had fallen trying to slide down the roof next to Nathan.

Speaking of, Sam absolutely loves you. He always teases the two of you when he sees you jumping down past St Francis’ gates, calling you things like ‘double trouble’. In reality, he was just overjoyed Nathan wasn’t alone in there, although it did scare him a little to see how similar the two of you were, and how much you got along.

Being with Nathan in Columbia, the first time he meets Sully. You had been absolutely terrified when you jumped down onto that roof only to see someone pointing a gun at Nathan, so even though Victor had saved him, you still didn’t trust him or his intentions when he took the two of you out for lunch. However, a small, familiar touch on your wrist from Nathan, and a small little smirk that always meant ‘trust me’, and somehow the two of you had another member joined into your unconventional family.

Being there for him when Sam ‘dies’ in prison. You knew. You had known Nathan for so long by now, that before he had even finished closing the door, you just knew. The slumped shoulders, the red bleariness of your eyes as he turns to you with such desperation and lackluster hope, the faltering step he took towards you meant that just before he fell to his knees your arms were already around his shoulders.

The night with him crying into your abdomen, fingers digging painfully into your hips as your fingers stroked gently through his short hair, knowing there was nothing either of you could say right now that could make the pain better.

He had refused to let you go into the prison to help find the St. Dismas Cross, and that was the only saving grace of the situation, that you hadn’t got hurt as well. He didn’t think he would have survived that one.

Admitting to you that he’s more afraid of losing you than of clowns

From then on, he gives you kisses whenever he can. Whenever he’s so excited, or nervous, or near Chloe, or has made a new discovery or destroyed another lost city, you get a kiss. Most of all, when you make it out of some near-death, near inescapable escapade, he scoops you into his arms and kisses you so passionately, it’s as if he thinks it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. 

After he manages to return from the plane crash and whole desert incident in Yemen, that’s when he realises that he was afraid that whole time, more than anything, not of dying but of never being able to see you again. Collapsing onto your knees, you try to stop your lips from wobbling as you stroke your hand over his dirt streaked cheek. You see one tear drip down from the crease of your eye and land on his forehead as his fingers fumble desperately to hold yours, pulling them down to kiss each knuckle.

You thought he was drifting off to sleep, but his voice is soft and scared as he says: ‘will you marry me?’

Being furious when he runs off to help Sam in Malaysia, but knowing in the end you would do anything for Nathan Drake, and so running off to save him yet again.

Although, your heart stopped when Sam accidentally knocked him off the edge of the cliff.

And his heart stopped when you pretended to be dead after escaping the exploding mummies.

He held you so tight to his chest, pulse absolutely thundering as he squeezed his eyes shut and sighed in blessed relief, promising himself to never let you go again.

[reddrobins]

curiosity killed the cat and perfection killed the bat

tim drake x reader

summary: you were the batgirl to Tim’s robin. his everything, that is until you started to deteriorate away.

warnings: depiction of eating disorders, angst, hurt/comfort

You hadn’t always been a perfectionist. Really, if anything that was a new trait. But of course, all new things become old and all good things must come to an end, and you were the best thing in Tim’s life.

Bruce had taken you in under circumstances like any other of his children. Small child, carrying absurd amounts of trauma on their back. He saw potential in you the minute he laid eyes on your scared shaken form back in Crime Alley.

You were quickly welcomed into the family and not long after made friends with Bruce’s newest son, Tim.

You and Tim were inseparable the moment you met. Bruce could tell there was a bond like no other between the pair and would never dare to break the two of you up. So when Stephanie decided to go solo, the role of batgirl was open and Bruce saw no other option than you to be Tim’s new crime fighting partner.

You were thrilled. I mean what average child gets to go ham on criminals nightly and punch out their aggression? Though you knew batgirl was a more strategic role within the duo, you still couldn’t have been more excited to be a part of the team.

However, that joy didn’t seem to last too long.

Your first week as batgirl you decided to watch some footage of old fights on the batcomputer. It was videos of when Barbara and Dick were batgirl and robin and boy, were you blown out of the water.

You were drawn to Babs. Her moves, her brain… Her body. Everything just seemed so superior to you. You started to feel inferior, to feel like you weren’t good enough, like you didn’t deserve the mantle. It was basic comparison at its finest, however when you add comparison on top of years of trauma, it shifts into something different. Something more sinister.

Tim was the first one to notice your mood shift. Of course he was, the teen was your partner both in life and at ‘work’. The first signs he noticed was your increase in irritation and newly adapted short temper. The most prominent example being the one fateful night on patrol.

“Batgirl, do you have the location of the drug circle?” Tim asked as he scoped out the area from atop the WE building.

“Yes, it should be right under the pier. A small ship where they’re beginning to load up cargo for a trade.” You responded as you grappled from building to building - catching up to Tim.

“Okay. Here’s the plan, I’ll go in first, quietly. Then you can swoop down and take out the two thugs by the boa-”

You interrupted him, “Why are you going in first?”

Tim furrowed his eyebrows behind his domino mask. “I- I just thought you would’ve wanted to do some recon before we go in fighting…”

You crossed your arms, “do you think I can’t handle it myself?”

Red Robin was at a loss for words, beyond confused. You were a partnership, were was this sudden burst of irritation coming from?

“What? No, (Y/N) - I mean batgirl of course not. Why would you even think that?”

Rolling your eyes you sneered, “You just always calls the shots Tim. I’m starting to think you don’t think I’m capable enough.”

He was taken aback by the accusation, you were never normally like this. “That’s not that at all. No way, I think you’re more than capable, I just… I just thought that’s what you’d want?”

“Sure Tim.” You glared at him, “if you think you can pull this off on your own, then why don’t you get on with it. I won’t interrupt your work anymore.”

And with that you left, grappling away from Tim and back home to the Manor. The raven haired teen was left astounded. What the hell had just happened? Did you really just sacrifice the mission for what, a mild argument? He’d definitely be talking to you about this later.

The second sign he noticed of your change in personality was your avoidance of dinner. Or all meals for that matter.

“(N/N)! Alfred’s calling us for dinner! You want to come down?” Tim hollered from the stairs.

You however were busy in your room, music up to a volume that drowned out Tim.

Downstairs, the teen groaned and clambered up to your room knocking once before entering.

There you were, on the floor doing crunches, eyes squeezed shut due to over exhaustion. “(N/N)” he called again, this time from the doorway.

You sat up and pressed pause on the speakers, facing Tim. “Oh. Hey, what’s up?”

“Um, Alfred made dinner and wanted me to come bring you down… am I interrupting something?“ 

 “What? Oh that, no. It was nothing. Just some pretraining workouts before patrol tonight.” You laughed, looking off into the left. 

 Though Tim was a great detective, it didn’t take skill to know that you were lying. However, he let it go. “Okay… so, you coming down?” 

 You bit your lip in contemplation and then finally shook your head. “Uh, I had a big lunch and am still not really hungry. So please tell Alfred I’m really sorry and I know whatever he made was wonderful.” You lied, hoping he would let the conversation go.

Luckily, he did. 

“Sure. Just please come down if you get hungry. With all of the extra training you’re doing you need to make sure you’re staying nourished.”

You quirked your head at his response, “extra training I’m doing?” 

 Tim sighed and ran a hand down his face, “Do you really think I don’t hear you sneaking down to the batcave every night? The floorboards are old you know.”

 Not knowing what else to do, you put up your walls. “What are you spying on me or something? The fuck Drake, I thought we were a team?” 

 Tim faltered at your response, not knowing what provoked this outburst, “What? No. Of course not. I just care about you okay?” 

 The teen walked over to you and lifted his hand, bringing it up to caress your cheek. However before he could make contact, you pulled away instantly. Hurst flared in Tim’s eyes. 

 He sighed, “Okay. Well I’m going back down, feel free to come down if you need anything.” Walking to the door, Tim shut it behind him and waited for a few second, seeing if you would change your mind.

However all he was left to hear was floorboards creaking and pained counting as you continued your workout. 

The third thing Tim noticed was a change in your clothing style. Suddenly all of your favourite dresses, crop tops and t-shirts were swapped out for baggy hoodies and men’s jumpers. Tim swears you steal them from Jason.  

The two of you were sat on the floor of the batcave, Damian off in the distance spearing dummys with his katana. 

 “So” Tim started, “last night I was looking into our case and I found out some pretty interesting facts. The guy were looking at, his name is Gregory Jacobs and guess what, he works for Sionis. If we crack him, he could be a huge lead to whatever- what’re you doing?” 

 “Huh?” You looked up at Tim. 

 The teen pointed at your wrist which you currently had two digits wrapped around. Immediately, you unclasped your grip. 

"That?” You laughed, “That was nothing. Just something I do when I’m nervous.” Based on the inflection in your voice and your lack of eye contact, Tim could instantly tell you were lying. However, like last time, he decided to drop it. 

 “Uh, Sure… what’s your opinion on the Jacobs thing? Say we go on patrol tonight?” Tim quirked an eyebrow, obviously really intent on taking down Sionis’ men. 

“Yeah. Sure.” You said distantly. Tim was about to respond when you opened your mouth again. “Hey Timmy, you mind if I take a nap. I’m just really tired right now and want to rest up before patrol, you know?” You stood up from your spot on the floor. 

 “Um yeah. Go take a nap. I’ll catch up with you later about the case.” Tim stood up too and leaned in to kiss you on the check, only for you to once again pull away abruptly. 

You gave a weak smile and ran up the stairs from the cave, heading towards your room. 

“Somethings wrong with her, Drake.” Tim turned around to find his little brother, sheathing his katana. 

“I know. I just wish she would tell me.” The older teen sighed. 

 “Do you wish me to talk with her?” Damian asked, shocking Tim. Why all of a sudden was he being nice? 

 Tim shook his head, “No, it’s fine Damian. She’ll just get annoyed with you. I’ll just wait for her to talk.” 

 The younger Wayne nodded, “I’m only asking for her well-being, Drake. Don’t get any ideas I’m going soft on you.” 

 Tim smirked, enjoying this unusual moment with his brother, “of course not Damian, I wouldn’t expect that of you.” 

 “Good. Now I am going to go play fetch with Titus. If you decide you’d like me to talk with (Y/N), I shall be in the yard.” Damian went up the stairs leaving Tim by his lonesome. Lost and confused on how to help you get through… whatever you were going through. 

 The fourth time Tim noticed something was off was when you fainted on patrol. And man, was that the scariest night of his life.

“Red Robin to Batgirl, I’ve located Jacobs, are you in place to attack?” 

It was the night of the mission. Tim was overly stoked whereas you, well you had your mind on other things. The suit felt really tight, almost like you were too big to be in it, you’d much rather opt for your oversized hoodies. You kept thinking about the breakfast you had that morning, everything was just too much. “Yeah...” you responded.

“Good. Batman,” Tim spoke into the coms, “we’re moving in.” 

You swung your grappling gun to the nearest ledge, jumping off your current perch, and ow, why did that hurt? Your shoulder felt like it was on fire and when you landed on your feet, you felt like you broke both your ankles. 

You hissed in pain and Tim heard, “Batgirl, are you okay?” 

You nodded, “Fine, dunno why that hurt all of a sudden though...”

To say Tim was worried about this mission was an understatement. For the past few weeks, though you had been working out, you seemed to be quite frail, walking slowly, speaking with no energy - it was scaring Tim. But still, you insisted you come on the mission.

“Okay, just please be careful... I’m going in, are you behind me?”

You mumbled a ‘yes’ into the earpiece and followed your partner into the building.

Flipping down from the awning, you stumbled on your landing, luckily Red Robin was there to catch your fall. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he whispered to you.

You shrugged him off in annoyance, muttering an ‘of course I am.’

“Okay, we’re going to split up from here, I’m going to take the two guys in the back and you can handle the one by the cargo, then we’ll both go after Jacobs.”

Though you didn’t see why Tim insisted you only take down one goon, you complied with the plan and snuck over to the cases of drugs.

Quietly, you reached out behind the thug and pressed your hand to his mouth, pulling him behind the crate. You tried to use your core strength to flip and straddle his neck but to no avail, you were just too weak.

He got the better of you and wailed a punch at your temple. You stumbled slightly, blinking away the dark spots in your vision. Cursing, you charged at the man again, batarang in hand. 

You threw it at your target but alas, the force wasn’t strong enough and it clattered against the crate, limply falling to the ground.

was the room spinning or was it just you?

At this point you couldn’t even tell. Nonetheless, you tried to attack one more time, sliding onto the floor you stuck your leg out in means to trip him, but it just barely made the man sway.

He laughed, “So this is Batgirls replacement? A weak little twig like you?”

You felt a flare of anger in your chest, how dare he call you a replacement!

You let out and angry growl and with all of your might pounced at him, tackling the large man to the ground. 

He laughed again, and easily threw your body off of him, leaving you to crash into a wooden crate.

You laid on the floor staring up at the ceiling, was the ceiling always that high up? Where are those dots coming from?

Weakly, you tried to sit up, ignoring the heaviness of your head, at least that was until you passed out.

When you came to, you realized you were in fact, tied to a chair, however not by yourself. Tim was tied behind you on his own chair.

“Timmy?” you mumbled.

The teens ears perked up, “(Y/N)? Oh thank god, you scared me so bad.”

“Tim, what happened? Why are we tied up?”

He sighed in response and craned his neck to look at you, “After you fainted, the third thug came at me. There was just too many of them for me to handle while thinking about if you were dead. God, (Y/N), you scared me so bad. Please don’t do that again.”

“It’s not like I chose to faint, Tim.” You sneered, upset that he was putting the blame on you.

“Well you are the one that chose not to eat. The one that chose to overwork them self. The one that didn’t ask for help when you were clearly struggling... I mean, am I wrong?”

You gulped, so he knew... 

“Tim... I-”

“(Y/N) I’m not mad at you, I just want to know, why? Why put yourself through that?” He pleaded with you.

You sighed and then out of frustration and exhaustion, let out a cry. “I had to okay?! I saw footage of Babs and saw how much prettier and skinnier and smarter and just better than me she was. I didn’t have a choice but to fix myself to live up to her legacy.”

Tim’s heart broke at your sobs, god he wish he cold take away your pain and just tell you how naturally beautiful and smart and unique and talented you are... He just didn’t know how.

“(Y/N)... you didn’t have to do any of that. You, you’re amazing just the way you are. And, and I know I wont be able to change your mind but, but... I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you. I never wanted you to be any more than you already were because in my eyes you’re amazing. You’re my (Y/N) and I wouldn’t ask for any different.”

You gasped, I mean you knew there was something between you and Tim, but love? He loved you? You cried again, overwhelmed. “Tim, I love you too. I just thought I had to be better, to prove myself to you all, to show that I actually deserved the title of Batgirl.”

“Oh love, if you want to talk to someone about deserving their title, hell talk to me. I’ve struggled with that for years. But I would never, ever tell you to do something like this. You’re so much more than a body. You’re just a beautiful soul, inside and out.”

“God Timmy, you’re such a sap... But you’re my sap. Or, is that okay?”

Tim smiled, leaning his head on your shoulder, “That more than okay.”

The two of you stayed like that for a bit until you were brought back to reality. “Hey Tim...” The teen in question gave a loving ‘hmm?’

“Um, how are we going to get out of this?”

[bebepac]

WIP Wednesday 4-8-2020

This is what I’m working on!   Curious to see what others like @dcbbw @bbrandy2002 @loveellamae and @burnsoslow are working on too.  Holla!!!! 

Tagging @queenjilian @janezillow @kimmiedoo5 @kingliam2019 @glaimtruelovealways @custaroonie @annekebbphotography @lodberg @camersworld @queenwalton @xpandabeardontcarex @hopefulmoonobject @queencordonia @atha68 @my0123456789universe @indiacater @losingbraincellseveryday @furiousherringoperatortoad @marietrinmimi @sevenfuckslefttogive @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @mrsdrakewalkerblog @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @yukinagato2012 @we-lazystudent @islandcrow @texaskitten30 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @jared2612 @acanthisorbis @ac27dj @nomadics-stuff​ @the-soot-sprite​

If there is anything you need to catch up on before the weekend, (that’s usually when i have free time to post) please click  https://bebepac.tumblr.com/post/190800365955/masterlist

Fast Forward Chapter 4 

Blurred Lines 

Bastien grabbed Nico, pulling him out into the hallway.

“Nico, I recommended you to be Queen Riley’s guard because I thought you could handle it.”

“I can handle it, I just saved the Queen’s life!”

“Stop playing dumb Nico.  You know what I mean.  The Queen is not a woman you can have.”

“I’m not sure I agree.”

“Have you slept with Queen Riley?”

“No.”

“Have you kissed her.”

“Almost.”

“So also no.”  Bastien laughed.  “You really don’t know her.  If you knew her as well, as I have come to know her, you would know Queen Riley makes her intentions clear.   If she truly wanted you, she would have already had you by now.  The number of times I had to turn a blind eye, as Liam and Riley would think they were sneaking off together, during Liam’s  social season was staggering.”

Nico opened his mouth to speak.

“Before you ask, why I turned a blind eye, I could tell, he really cared for her.  He’d never looked at anyone, the way he looked at her. She looked at him, with the same passion.  I knew, from the moment he went to pick her up from the airport, how nervous and excited he was.  He thought he was hiding her that week.  I’ve never seen someone so happy, and proud to have someone on his arm.  He brought her here for a week, and prayed that she would stay.  She left everything she knew, for him.  If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.  That’s who you’re trying to drive a wedge between Nico, and I won’t let you continue to do it."

“There’s something there, I felt it from her today.”

Bastien shook his head.  “Nico, I saw the way she clung to you.  It may have felt like she was having romantic emotions for you in that moment… but she wasn’t .  She was afraid, and you were saving her.  Because you’re her guard.  That’s your job.”  

" Look at her with him."

“It really doesn’t….”  

“I SAID LOOK, GOD DAMNIT!!!!”

He watched Queen Riley with King Liam. He had crawled in the bed with her and was holding her in his arms, in a tight embrace, while she cried on his shoulder. He wiped her tears and kissed her lips. He couldn't hear what he was saying, but he could read Queen Riley's lips.  "I was so scared Liam. I love you. I love you so much. Hold me… don't let go."

Bastien looked once again at Nico. "Does that look like a woman that’s about to leave her husband for you?”

The Life of Riley Chapter 9

Look Who’s Talking Now

**Note.  i’m going to try to start aging Riley a bit each chapter.  I want your honest opinion on this. If it feels too fast guys let me know.  She’s going to be 3 in this chapter. 

When Riley started something, she was full speed ahead.  She didn’t know the meaning of the word brakes. They didn’t expect talking to be any different.  From the beginning when Riley learned the sound of her voice, she would just babble, in her baby language all the time. Day or night.  Sometimes they would wake up in the middle of the night, and Riley would be giggling and babbling.  

Riley being three, wasn't tiresome for Ren and Jason.  Two wasn’t terrible.  None of it was terrible.  They were simply happy they had a three year old child.  Riley was so independent for her age.  Riley did everything earlier than planned and excelled at it.

Ren lay in bed watching tv with Jason.   They could hear Riley on the monitor laughing.  

“Man I wish there was a Jumperoo for 3 year olds.   But I don’t think it would even contain her.  She’s a workout running around the house.”

“And she’s so smart Jason.  She knows so many words for a 3 year old.”

“Yes she does. You’ve been talking to her like she’s your best girlfriend since we brought her home.”  

“I think it’s more than that, It’s so much more than that.  I see 3 year old children daily.  None have her vocabulary, and are able to string sentences together like she can. The only one that came remotely close was a child with an older sibling.”

“She’s our little Einstein, are you really surprised though? Riley has been ahead of every cognitive hallmark, since she was born.”  

The next day Ren was off work.  She was making Riley a snack in the kitchen. Riley was coloring when she left.  

As she walked out the kitchen with Riley’s sliced apples and grapes and peanut butter, she saw her standing in front of Lucky with her hand held out.  

“Sit Lucky,”  Riley said confidently and Lucky sat on her haunches on command.

Ren gasped.  Jason had tried to teach Lucky tricks for years with no luck.

Riley clapped her hands,  “Good Girl.” She patted Lucky’s head, and she licked her face, and Riley started laughing.  

"One more?"

Riley looked like she was listening.

Riley put out her hand again, pointing at Lucky. She moved her arm in a loop.

"Lucky! Rolloller!"

Lucky did nothing.

Riley looked again to her left.

"Rol…....oller…….. Roll…....ollver…..roll…..over."

"Lucky! Roll Over!" This time when Riley made the loop with her arm Lucky followed her, rolling over on the floor.

"We did it! We did it Jaiden!"

Ren gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth, dropping the glass she was carrying, it making a huge crash, as it hit the hardwood floor.

Scar Tissue Chapter 10

Aftershocks (Still a while from being released.) 

I told you guys this one wouldn’t far from my mind.  I decided to write a little on it to get some ideas going for when I’m really ready to pull it from hiatus again. This is what I came up with so far.  Yes, I am somewhat of an asshole for this pic posted below.  I’m sorry my Drake Stans that like this AU, for disrespecting your man like this.  But this Drake is not your Marshmallow Man... is he?

Liam was numb. Bastien spoke to Liam; he did not answer. His eyes were still  fixed on Drake's dead body on the floor.  Bastien looked at Riley. Riley placed herself in front of Liam. She softly touched his face. Finally the man with the blue eyes she loved dearly looked down at her, his eyes meeting hers.

"Give me the gun," she whispered.  His grip tightened on it. "Liam it's over. Baby, give me the gun."  The grip in his left hand softened, allowing Riley to take the gun from him. She handed it over to Bastien.

"Nico. Take them through the passages back to their quarters, no one can see the King this way."

Nico nodded. "Follow me, Your Majesties." Riley took Liam's hand and gently pulled him, and he started to follow.

They followed Nico through the passageway,  and at the last turn Nico halted them. " I'll go first to make sure there is no one in the hallways."

Once Nico had given the all clear they headed out.

"I'll be back to collect the King's clothes, yours as well." She looked down at her dress seeing blood on herself.

Riley nodded looking at Liam. He said nothing. She walked Liam into the bathroom turning on their shower.  After a few moments she checked the water to see how hot it was.  

She slowly and carefully undressed Liam.  She had undressed Liam so many times before, but this time was different.  It wasn’t sexual, but this was the most intimate moment, she had ever shared with Liam.  He was so completely vulnerable as he stood before her, still covered in Drake’s blood.

" Baby I’m here,” she said softly as she stroked his cheek.

[camillemontespan]

the history of us [drake x Camille] [part thirteen: faith]

Part Twelve if you want to catch up

Drake’s Mind over Matter interview

Posting this before my weekend gets busy! This is the penultimate chapter - final chapter will be written soon. ‘Mind over Matter’ is my headcanon for Drake, which he hints at near the end of this chapter. The time frame in the article is different, but the idea is the same. 

@jovialyouthmusic @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @sirbeepsalot @pug-bitch @moonlightgem7 @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @emceesynonymroll @burnsoslow @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @emichelle @notoriouscs @gardeningourmet @katedrakeohd @be-still-my-aching-heart @symonde @stopforamoment @rainbowsinthestorm

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

Baby Walker #2.

A long moment after Drake’s eyes studied the scan and Camille’s handwriting, he bolted up from the sofa, disturbing the corgis who were asleep at his feet. They watched as Drake stormed with purpose out the living room, grabbed his car keys from the key holder and flung on his jacket. 

It was pouring with rain outside. It occurred to Drake that he hadn’t set foot outside the manor in a week but that wasn’t important right now. What was important was his family. 

Drake gunned it down the boulevards of Valtoria heading towards Ramsford. He hoped Camille would speak to him. She said she would when he finished the box and Camille always kept her word.

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

His fist hammered on the front door. ‘Camille!’ he shouted. ‘Camille, it’s me!’

The door opened and he came face to face with his wife. 

She looked tired with dark circles under her eyes. She was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Looking at her now, after reading her innermost thoughts and studying the photographs she had taken over the years, Drake felt like he was seeing her in a whole new light. He felt like an asshole for taking her for granted and treating her like shit. How could he?

‘Camille,’ he whispered. The rain hammered down still, his face was wet and his hair soaked. 

‘Come in, Drake,’ she murmured. She guided him inside and went to find a towel to dry him off. When she came back, she wrapped a soft towel around his shoulders and gently rubbed his hair. Even when he had hurt her, she still cared. She still looked out for him.

Drake caught her by the wrists. 

She looked at him, her gaze steady. She had hurt and sadness in her eye, which tugged at Drake’s heart. She watched him as he sank to his knees and placed his hands on her stomach. 

‘Drake..’ she whispered. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ he told her thickly, looking up at her. He looked broken. ‘I finished the diary. I went through the box. I saw the scan. I have been awful to you the past few months. I treated you like shit and I treated my own daughter like shit. I don’t deserve either of you.'

Camille closed her eyes. 'Drake, get up.'

He stood up, his eyes fixing on her stomach before meeting her eyes. She gestured to a room down the hall. 'Let's sit in the drawing room.'

Drake awkwardly followed her into the Beaumont drawing room. Typically of the Beaumont family, the walls were hung with family portraits and gilded mirrors. Opulent and over the top, everything Drake wasn't.

Bertrand and Maxwell were sat on the sofa. Bertrand was reading a book but it was obvious he wasn't concentrating on the words as his jaw was clenched and his foot was tapping furiously on the floor. Maxwell looked up when they entered and gave Drake a nervous smile. 'Hey Drake.'

Camille bit her lip. 'Do you mind if we have some privacy for a while?'

Maxwell bolted up. 'Of course, of course! Uh, Bertrand?'

Bertrand stood up slowly and tucked his book into the crook of his arm. He looked at Drake with distaste. 'Certainly, Camille,' he muttered. As he passed Drake, he took him by the arm and said in a low voice, 'Don't you dare break her heart all over again otherwise you have the Duke of Ramsford to answer to.'

Drake paled while Camille reddened. The Beaumonts left the room and Camille settled down on the sofa, tucking her legs under herself. She looked so small and delicate.

She gestured for Drake to sit down.

They faced each other.

'I.. I've got so many things to say to you but I don't know where to begin,' Drake admitted. 'I feel anything I say is going to be useless.'

Camille placed her hand on his. 'Then let me speak.'

He nodded, waiting for her to talk.

'Do you want to save us?' she asked simply.

Drake nodded, his eyes wide. 'More than anything.'

Camille studied him. 'Then you need to make steps for yourself first, Drake. If you want us to have a future, you need to get help. I don't mean therapy, I mean an AA meeting. You're killing yourself right in front of me and right in front of Lily.'

Drake looked down at his lap. He didn't argue. He knew she was right.

Camille leaned forward and placed her hand on his cheek. 'Get better for yourself first then the rest will follow,' she whispered. 'Think of your children.'

Children. Plural. He had another baby on the way.

'How far along are you?' he asked her softly.

Camille smiled. 'Three months. It's just a dating scan I have so it's very early days.'

Realisation dawned on Drake. 'Three months? So... From July?'

'Since Texas,' she clarified. 'I like to think of it as our 4th July baby.'

Drake let out a strangled groan. He held his head in his hands and his body shook from the revelation. Hot tears slid down his face. He was crying a lot lately. Drake felt Camille shift and soon her arms were wrapped around him, holding him tight.

'It's okay, baby,' she whispered, her voice wavering with emotion. 'Shh, it's okay.'

'I didn't know you were pregnant,' he said into his hands. 'Oh god, I'm such a dick head. I'm a fucking abomination.'

Camille clenched his hands tight. 'Drake. I didn't know either. I found out the day before I left. You weren't to know.'

'I threw a fucking vase!' he burst out, turning to face her. His face was wet and his eyes were red rimmed. 'It's bad enough I threw it in front of Lily. What if I hurt you? What if I hurt the baby?'

'The baby is fine,' Camille told him fiercely. 'Please, stop overthinking. Just focus. Focus on what you are going to do now.'

Drake dug his fingernails into his palm. He was so angry with himself.

'I'm going to fight for us,' he said. 'You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, I'll be damned if I lose you. I'll go to an AA meeting, I'll get therapy, I'll just work on being a husband and father. I'll take the bad stuff like the fucking paparazzi, I don't care, I just want you, Lily and Baby Number 2. I need you. I lost sight of all the good stuff I had in front of me but I swear Camille, I promise you right now, I'm never doing that again.'

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

'Can I see Lily?' Drake asked quietly. He and Camille had held each other for a long time. Tears had been shed and promises made.

Camille nodded mutely. 'I'll go see her first. She's been..'

She broke off. Drake closed his eyes. 'Please tell me.'

'She's been clinging to me, Drake,' Camille said honestly. 'She's been sleeping with me every night because she's scared something will happen. Maxwell and Bertrand have tried hard to distract her but in those quiet moments, she just looks so nervous. If I leave the room, she follows me.'

Drake felt like he was going to throw up. Camille took his hand. 'She still loves you,' she said, 'it just might take a while to gain her trust back. You can't force her. She's got to come to you.'

Camille left to go find Lily. Drake stayed on the sofa, dread filling his heart.

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

Lily was in the garden with Maxwell. They had built another fort and they were currently inside it drawing pictures. Lily looked up when she heard Camille. 'Mommy!'

Camille smiled and sat down to face her daughter. Maxwell squeezed Camille's hand, offering her support.

'Lily, I've got something to tell you,' Camille said. Fuck, she felt nervous. 'Your daddy is in the house. He's come to visit.'

Lily's fingers unconsciously gripped hold of the blanket underneath her. Maxwell's eyes flicked down to her hands. He had seen her nerves.

'Is he angry?' Lily asked, her voice tiny.

Camille gently took Lily's hand, trying to sooth her. 'No, honey. He was very unwell when you last saw him but he is going to the doctor to get better. He is here today because he would like to see you, but no pressure, okay? If you don't want to see him yet, that's okay. I just want you to know that right now, your daddy is here and he is very sorry for scaring you. You're his favourite thing. His best girl. But he's going to get some medicine so he can get better.'

Lily cast her eyes to the floor. 'I want him to get better.'

'So do I, baby. Now, I'm going back inside to talk to him,' Camille said softly, like she was talking to a scared kitten. 'You can stay out here and draw, it's okay.'

She stood up slowly and left Lily with Maxwell.

Maxwell studied the little girl in front of him. She was usually so vibrant, so full of joy. It pained him to see her like this. Subdued. Nervous. Quiet.

'Have you got an orange crayon?' he asked her brightly. He needed to distract her.

Lily searched around the fort and found one. She handed it to Maxwell before settling back down.

'I'm going to draw a tiger,' Maxwell said, lying on his front with the blank sheet on the floor in front of him. 'What are you going to draw?'

Lily bit her lip. 'I don't know. I always draw mommy and daddy.'

Maxwell looked at her, knowing what he said next would be important. 'You know, I don't have parents anymore,' he told her. Lily looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed.

'Why?'

'I lost them.'

'Oh. That was silly.'

Maxwell chuckled. 'I know right? It's just me and Uncle Bertrand. We miss our parents all the time.'

Lily shifted to lie on her front like Maxwell. 'You should go find them.'

'I can't,' Maxwell said. 'They've gone forever.'

Lily went quiet, her eyes fixed on her own blank piece of paper. 'I miss my daddy. Is he gone forever?'

Maxwell shook his head. 'No, Lily. He's unwell but he's not gone. He's still your daddy.'

'I don't want to lose daddy,' she said solemnly.

Maxwell began to draw his tiger, trying to be casual. 'You won't,' he assured her. 'Your daddy is inside the house right now. He is still here.'

'I want him to smile,' Lily said.

'I bet he'll smile when he sees you,' Maxwell said.

Lily smiled weakly and picked up a pink crayon. Maxwell watched her with bated breath as she began to draw stick figures.

'When someone is ill,' he said slowly, 'you need to be patient and have faith in them that they will get better.'

'Faith?'

Her brown eyes met his. Maxwell smiled gently. 'Faith is when you have belief. Like, you hope you'll get ice cream this afternoon so you have to believe -have faith- that I will give you some.'

'Will you?!'

'Have faith, Lily,' Maxwell teased.

Lily frowned. 'So I have to hope for daddy?'

Maxwell nodded. 'All you can do is hope he'll get better. Your daddy wants to. He just might need extra hugs and smiles to help him.'

Lily sat up straight. 'I can do that.'

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

Drake and Camille were sat with Bertrand in the drawing room. Bertrand still watched Drake with a suspicious expression but he listened when Camille told him that they were going to look at AA meetings.

The door opened and Maxwell entered with Lily holding his hand. The adults turned to look at the little girl who was clutching a piece of paper in her hand.

Drake wanted to run to her but he stopped himself. He didn't want to scare her. Instead, he watched as she let go of Maxwell's hand and timidly walked towards Drake.

'I want you to feel better,' she said, her voice wavering, 'so I drew you this.'

She handed him her paper. Drake took it gently and fought back tears when he saw that she had drawn him, Camille and Lily as stick figures.

'This is beautiful, honey,' he whispered. Lily shifted on her feet. Drake looked at her now. He hadn't seen her in a week, which to him may as well have been a hundred years.

'You look beautiful today,' he murmured. She was wearing a yellow sundress and pink sandals. Lily blushed.

'I'm sorry I scared you,' he told her, his eyes steady on hers. 'I promise I'm not going to scare you again. If you will let me, I will only give you cuddles and play with you, just happy things. I want to make you happy. I love you.'

Lily wrung her hands together, keeping her eyes on him. Camille, Bertrand and Maxwell were staring at the two of them, too nervous to say anything.

'Will you get better?' she asked. Drake nodded. 'I'm going to the doctors and they will sort me out. It’ll be hard but you gotta have faith. We all do.’

Lily nodded, thinking. Faith. Drake could see the cogs in her mind turning, her face filled with concentration. She then leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Drake let out a breath. His hands came up to bring her in closer and soon, they were hugging.

They broke apart but Lily still held onto his hand. Camille smiled, her eyes glistening, and she leaned forward. Her eyes met Drake's and he gave her a nod. He knew what she was thinking. For the first time in months, they were in sync.

'Lily,' Camille said gently. 'Let's see your drawing.'

Lily showed Camille the drawing. Camille grinned. 'Now, in six months which is a long time, you will have to draw another family member.'

Lily frowned. 'You mean Uncle Bertrand?'

Bertrand hooted with laughter. Camille shook her head and placed her hands on her stomach.

'You're going to have a little brother or sister.'

Lily's eyes went wide like saucers. 'Wha?!'

Drake chuckled and picked her up to sit on his lap. 'Mommy is having a baby,' he told her. 'You're going to be a big sister.'

Lily's head whipped around to look at Drake then Camille then Maxwell then Bertrand.

'Ohh..' she murmured. 'So I won't be the only child anymore?'

'No honey,' Camille said.

'Can we send it back?' Lily asked hopefully.

Drake held in laughter, as did Camille. Lily was so used to being the only child. This was huge for her.

'We can't send it back,' Drake said. 'But you will love it. Another kid to play with!'

Lily looked at him, her eyes narrowed. 'I'm the favourite.'

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

That night, Drake lay in bed looking up at the ceiling. He was counting his blessings.

I have an incredible wife.

I have a beautiful daughter.

I’m going to have another baby.

I have a family.

Beside him, Camille rolled over so she snuggled into his chest. She was breathing steadily, her eyes closed. Drake felt relief that she was back in their bed; he had felt so alone this past week. 

Her stomach was pressed up against his. Drake imagined the little life growing inside her right now.

Gently, he leaned down to kiss her forehead. Camille smiled and opened her eyes slowly. Wordlessly, Drake moved so that his body was suspended above hers and his eyes roamed her body in complete and utter astonishment, as if she was Athena rising from the ocean. He kissed her neck and his lips travelled down her body towards her stomach.

Camille was silent as she watched Drake slide his hands along her stomach, feeling. His lips softly kissed her bellybutton. He was lost in this little moment.

'I can't wait to see you with a bump again,' he whispered, kissing her stomach some more. Camille blushed - Drake loved it when she had been pregnant with Lily. He had practically worshipped her.

'Do you think it'll be a boy or girl?' Camille asked.

Drake looked up at her, his eyes warm. 'As long as its happy and healthy, I don't mind.'

Camille lay back as Drake kissed his way down from her stomach to between her legs.

This was his chance to start over. He had already failed Lily - at least, Drake thought he had. He didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes. He was just sorry that Lily had to witness the monster that Drake had become. 

But Camille had given him a chance. This was Drake’s time to prove himself. He wanted to get rid of these toxic habits and just embrace this second chance. He owed it to Camille. He owed it to Lily. He owed it to the new baby. He owed it to himself. 

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

Three days later, Drake, Camille and Samantha were sat around the kitchen table. Lily was on the floor playing with her dolls; since she had been home, she hadn’t left Drake’s side. 

‘Right, Drake,’ Samantha said. ‘Tell me what you want and I will execute it.’ 

Drake looked at Camille who gave him an encouraging smile. 

‘Well, I’ve signed up to go to a local AA meeting,’ he told her. ‘They’re once a week. I’m going to stick to it.’

Samantha grinned. ‘Fantastic, Drake!’

‘I want to be honest,’ he said. ‘I’m just going to be honest with everyone, which means admitting that I have a drinking problem.’

‘When you say everyone, do you mean-’

‘I mean Cordonia.’

Samantha blinked. ‘But you hate attention.’

‘I do. But I want to live life on my own terms. I want to do something; I always felt I had no purpose. Well, now, I do. My purpose is to be the best husband and dad I can be. And since I'm also the Duke of Valtoria, I need to step up to the role and stop being a bitch about it. So, I’m going to be honest. This is me. I’m Drake Walker. I’m from Texas, I adore my wife, I adore my children. I love smores and I love being outdoors. I like denim shirts. I hate dancing. I hate etiquette. What you see is what you get with me. But also part of me is that I'm an alcoholic. I'm going to accept it.'

Samantha stared at Drake. This was the most he had ever said to her since she had been employed by the Duke and Duchess.

'Why do you want to tell the nation that you're an alcoholic?' she asked delicately.

Drake sighed. 'Because everyone has their own demons. Everyone has their struggles. For years I've felt like I bring nothing to the table as a Duke. But now I've got this. The past three months have been a dark time for me but if I can make something positive out of it.. I want to make mental health and alcoholism in men a more prominent issue, I want people to talk about it and if a guy like me is out there struggling, he can know that even though I'm sat in this Manor with a beautiful wife and gorgeous kids, it may look like I have it all, but I don't. If I can help one guy feel less hopeless, I've done my duty for Cordonia. I won't announce my plan just yet, as I need to work on myself first. But once I'm feeling stronger, I'm taking control.'

Camille squeezed his hand. She looked so proud of him.

'I had these walls,' Drake said quietly. 'For a while there, I built them back up after Camille spent so long bringing them down. I don't want to put her through that again. From now on, I'm going to be open, honest and laid bare. I'm a husband, a father and a Duke. I'm Drake Walker.'

[drabblemeister]

Carnival Confessions

Pairing: JayTim Event: JayTimWeek Summer 2017 Summary: Wherein Jason is a nervous, lovesick mess and Tim is clueless. Notes: I’M A WEEK LATE; forgive me ;__;

“Tonight is perfect,” Jason admitted, just as the ferris wheel carriage reached its zenith. After all, the moon was full and the stars were bright, and the neon haze below made him feel giddy. His gaze slid to the other side of the cart and he shoved forward a drooping bouquet of wildflowers, wilted from the motorcycle ride.

Against his ribs, his heart jack-hammered.

“It’s perfect...because of you,” he breathed, swallowing thickly right after the confession. It was a moment of truth. His palms were sticky. His throat had gone dry. He ached...and then he groaned just before unceremoniously crumpling backwards, causing the carriage to tip sideways and creak under the sudden shift of weight.

The bench across from him was, of course, empty.

Had Timothy Jackson Drake actually been sitting there, Jason would have undoubtedly taken a swan-dive from the cart and disappeared into the crowds below. A man’s pride could only take so much in a ten minute period, and confessing to someone like Tim seemed like a surefire way to throw your heart into a blender.

After all, Tim was calm. Streamlined. Kind of nerdy, but that I’ve-got-my-shit-together type, which spoke to Jason’s nerdiness on an elevated level. But also, Tim was unaccessible.

Always working.

Always on patrol.

Always texting.

“Well?” he asked, eyeing the bouquet in his hand for advice. “What do you think? He loves me, he loves me not?”

They stared at him. Jason stared back.

One daisy wilted further.

“Uggggggh,” Jason dropped his hand, unintentionally letting the flowers slap against the seat.

When the ride ended and the cart door opened, the elderly attendant stepped forward to help only to pause abruptly.

“Sir?” he asked.

From his collapsed position on the bench, Jason simply lifted his wrist. The flowers made a sad sound. Jason sighed.

He felt pathetic and he hadn’t even been rejected yet.

Jason thought about giving up. Trying a different time. Trying a different person. But the attendant’s hand came forward as he took a step inside the carriage; he saw the weeping flowers, the far-away, love-lost look in Jason’s eyes.

Maybe he sees himself, Jason thought. Did he once try to woo a lover in a ferris wheel?

The old man said, very seriously, “Son. You need to get off.”

Jason sighed.

The carnival was a fun and terrible place, both swathed in neon lights and swarming with children. The smell of cotton candy tangled with the gritty scent of charred meat. A sign listing Deep Fried Oreos made Jason question the future of humanity. A man dangling upside-down from a bungee cord reminded him of Bruce.

Standing in the middle of it all, he felt like a still-image lost in the frenetic energy.

This was such a stupid idea, he thought.

From behind him, Tim asked, “Jason?”

Startled cats in Youtube videos had more grace than Jason; spooked kittens springing five feet high and into a wall, more finesse. Jason didn’t clear five feet, but he did stumble into a trash can; he managed to catch its rim with his hand before it went tumbling over and in a last ditch effort to look cool, attempted to lean against it. His hand slipped however, and he would have gone toppling if Tim hadn’t caught his arm and righted him.

“Wow,” Tim asked, amused, just before wrapping his lips around a straw and taking a swig of something that smelled profoundly of lemon. “Are you okay?”

Jason was not okay, a point further proven by the fact he replied, “Now that you’re here.”

The straw fell from Tim’s mouth and he folded his lips together and it was the type of look that clearly asked, is that so?

“I mean,” Jason pointed out, “you obviously just saved me from throwing myself in the trash.”

At that, Tim did laugh and he dragged a hand back through his hair, the cool condensation from his drink clumping his bangs together with damp. His eyes had a way of catching light, and he looked effortlessly casual – with an emphasis on no effort. A too-big t-shirt hung loose over his torso, boasting a collage of video game controllers with a line of text that read Choose Your Weapon. His jeans were old, worn, and tight. Smudged canvas sneakers and a denim pack completed the look, which Jason wondered, briefly, was a disguise for Timothy Drake-Wayne.

No one would ever put two-and-two together.

“How would you bring me to my knees?” Tim asked, and for a moment, Jason thought he’d died and ended up in some alternate universe where his deepest, darkest fantasies could be brought to life.

But when Tim held out his shirt with his free hand, stared down at it and added, “Maybe you could beat me at SNES…” Jason felt a small well of despair.

He said, “You already know my weapon of choice.”

And Tim, pausing only for a beat, ducked his head and delivered a smooth smile. When he lifted his hand, he did so to poke a finger gun against Jason’s shirt, right above his heart.

“Bam,” Tim said, his lips rolling the B.

For a moment, Jason thought his heart might actually stop.

Then, “Why are you holding a bunch of weeds?”

It took a moment to process the question.

Why was Jason holding a bunch of weeds? He looked down and saw that he was still clutching the bouquet he’d finagled, only most of the flowers had lost their zest for life trying to co-exist with his secondhand embarrassment.

Abruptly, Jason whirled around and jammed them into the trash can he’d offended earlier and wished upon a shooting satellite.

Throw me a freaking bone…!

“Are you okay?” Tim asked, coming around to stand in front of him. His eyes darted to the weeds and back up, until a sudden seriousness invaded his otherwise laid-back appearance. “Is this an Ivy thing? Is that why –”

“What?” Jason asked, trying to connect the dots.

The flowers. Well, flower stems. Him running into trash cans. The fact he probably looked like he was going into cardiac arrest every two minutes.

For a moment, Jason thought about taking the excuse and running with it.

Ivy, he thought. Yes. A toxin. That’s exactly what’s going on.

How easy would it be to just pretend?

“I’ve got some triamcinolone,” Tim said, attention darting towards the front gate, eyes searching the parking lot beyond.

Jason frowned. “...you keep Kenalog shots in your car.”

Tim gave him a look like that was the least incriminating item anyone could hope to find.

“It’s not an Ivy thing,” Jason stated. He sighed, somewhat dejected. No ploy was worth one of those shots, especially when there was nothing wrong with him.

Tim looked suspicious.

“It’s just been a long day.”

Tim’s eyes darted to the ‘weeds’ once again and Jason simply shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

And really, it was.

“Long days, long stories…” Tim said to him, eyes squinting playfully as his gaze wandered the area, taking in the sights around them. When he glanced back, he seemed resolved. “Wanna make it a long night?”

The alternate reality speaks again, Jason thought.

The crowd was a tangled mess, and as Tim took a few steps backwards and into the fray, Jason marveled at how much come hither radiated from those eyes.

“I’ll kick your butt at the ring toss,” Tim promised.

“Like hell,” Jason said, and before he knew it, he was Tim’s shadow, trailing him through the colorful throng, chasing him beneath tapered flags and string lights, the sound of the world one big hushed lull of roller coaster shouts, bubbling laughter, and carousel chords that somehow echoed.

Tim wasn’t very good at the ring toss.

Jason wasn’t much better.

Jason was a better loser, though. Tim approached everything like a math problem, lips pursed like there was a formula, like the guy handing them the rings hadn’t rigged it. Everything was rigged at carnivals – didn’t Tim know?

They went on a ride that spun high and in circles and tripped over their feet trying to get to the exit. For all their jumping and rappelling off buildings, they weren’t used to the twirling. Tim laughed and braced himself against gate, looking flushed.

“My parents hated carnivals,” he admitted. “They always thought the rides would break. That I’d die on the teacups.”

Jason thought that was funny.

The next game involved Tim and Jason sharp-shooting water guns, teeth grit and eyes glued to chipped, plastic racehorses that made short, staccato jolts towards the finish line. Jason said he was a shoe-in, given his occupation. Tim said it was about water pressure, not experience.

An eight year old girl beat them both.

The basketball booths were open, and Jason and Tim played until they beat the high scores on each of their machines. It wasn’t that much work, but they both were damp with sweat. It was a hot night and exhaust plumed from food vendors.

They decided to get lost in the House of Mirrors. Tim asked Jason five times, “Does this mirror make me look fat?”

Jason’s answer, each time, was, “Yes.”

As they wandered the lot, they passed a dart-throwing booth. A man was arguing with the worker, saying it was rigged.

All the games are rigged, Jason thought.

“I bet you could do it,” Tim said, and it was startling in that it wasn’t a challenge. When Jason glanced at Tim, he was eyeing the board, probably calculating the distance, the arcs, anything math could piece together in his head.

It was weird how the intensity in Tim’s eyes made Jason feel that yeah, he totally could.

So he did.

He noticed little things between shots; minor details that made it apparent that whatever this was, it went deeper than a crush. Like the way Tim stood, completely relaxed, head tilted sideways as he watched the worker collect darts from the board. He kept his hands in his pockets, one leg kicked up behind him, and when he noticed Jason staring he simply grinned.

No doubt.

None.

Not that Jason doubted himself; hell, he was a king at darts, and this was pie.

Afterwards, the worker looked grateful. The man who’d been bugging him sauntered off after tossing a red solo cup into a trash can.

Jason felt smug.

And then Tim asked if they could go on the ferris wheel.

The moon was full and the stars were bright and the old man attendant gave Jason a wry, disapproving look. It probably had less to do with recognizing Jason from before and more to do with the fact it took all three of them – the old man, Tim, and Jason, to wedge the six foot tall teddy bear Jason’d won at the dart booth into the carriage.

When the ferris wheel finally moved, the cart crooned as it rocked back and forth.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked, because Tim was practically radiating.

“Snapchat,” Tim replied, holding his phone up to take a picture. The bear took up the entire bench, and it’s head was half-squashed by the canopy.

Tim’s knee bumped Jason’s and he held his phone out to share the picture.

It was ridiculous.

Tim typed out a caption and arched forward so that he could jam his phone into his back pocket, which caused his and Jason’s arms to brush. When he got seated again, he sighed.

“Tonight is perfect,” he said, sounding content.

The sentiment sounded familiar.

It was late; most of the families had left, ushering the younger kids home to sleep. The ferris wheel seemed empty and quiet, and Jason watched Tim look longingly over the park, wondering if he’d ever been on a ferris wheel before.

Jason snorted. The thought itself was sacrilege.

“I was really excited when you invited me out,” Tim said, though he kept his eyes on the carnival lights, which flickered and flashed below. “It’s times like this that I think...is this what it feels like to be normal?”

For a moment, Jason saw Tim in a different light. It was a split second of time, caught between blinks, when he imagined Tim and normalcy; a Tim who hadn’t idolized Robin as a kid, who hadn’t taken on a cape, who had simply grown up; and maybe they would have met, and maybe Jason would have offered to sneak him in – dared him, because rich kids don’t take offers from teenagers that steal tires; what it would have been like to take Timon the teacups, to have swindled some cotton candy, to have abandoned Tim in the House of Mirrors, arms crossed outside, grinning smugly while looking at his watch.

He could almost imagine Tim’s face in that moment, lips pursed and fuming, and it was something else; Jason was sure he would have fallen for Tim then, too.

“What?” Tim asked. He was looking at Jason, an eyebrow raised. He even wiped at his face, as though he might have something smeared on his cheek.

“I’m just trying to imagine what it’s like going your whole life not having gone to a carnival.”

“Depressing,” Tim supplied.

Jason leaned backward, stretching his arms back, letting them rest along the rim of the carriage. “You’re not allowed to be depressed when someone’s won you a giant teddy bear.”

At that, Tim laughed. Then he realized Jason was serious.

“No. No way. Jason, it won’t fit in my car.”

“Did you just call Mr. Fuzzlesworth an it? Oh my god,” Jason glanced up at the bear, who had no visible eyes because they were wedged up against the ceiling. “Don’t listen to him,” he advised.

“Jason!” Tim said. “I’m being serious!”

“Well, I drove my bike, so…”

“So…?”

“Do you hear that, Mr. Fuzzlesworth? His first trip to the carnival and he doesn’t even want you. Room for Kenalog shots, but not for –”

“Jason,” Tim elbowed him in the side, and Jason laughed.

“He won’t fit!” Tim argued.

Jason shook his head solemnly.

“Also, where would he go in my apartment?”

Jason turned to give him a look.

Tim grinned and it was obvious he was just trying to start something.

Jason kissed him.

It was quick.

Chaste.

Unexpected.

But he wasn’t lost to his heartbeat anymore, didn’t find it hard to breathe. Tim blinked wide eyes at him, and Jason let him, because he wanted to remember this moment.

The moment where Tim looked lost: cannot compute written across his pretty face, reflected in his bright blue eyes.

Jason turned his gaze to the bear. “It was fun while it lasted, Mr. Fuzzlesworth.”

The ride was coming to an end, and Jason turned back to Tim – Tim, who was blinking at him, as if trying to access whether or not the kiss had indeed occurred.

Jason said, “When the old man opens the door, we bolt.”

Tim frowned. “Did you just kiss me?”

“All right sirs,” the old attendant said, and Jason was up and moving, dragging Tim behind him. They left to shouts, a croaking voice yelling at them from behind.

The crowd was thin and Jason felt young.

He pulled Tim behind him and they wove through the park’s fabric until they were out of the gate, in the barely lit parking lot. They were both panting and nearly out of breath. An adrenaline rush for something as silly as abandoning a stuffed toy.

“You kissed me,” Tim breathed.

Jason scrunched his nose. “Well, I mean, if you call that a kiss –”

“You kissed me?”

Jason paused, closed his mouth. He nodded.

Tim looked lost in thought. Putting pieces together. Analytical. It was insanely attractive.

“I like you,” Jason admitted.

Tim eyed him. Then he relaxed. He looked nonchalant when he asked, “Was this a date, Jason Peter Todd?”

Jason thought carefully about his answer.

Tim said, “I hope it was.”

Jason felt his pulse stumble.

“Next time, win me something I can fit in my car?”

Jason laughed. It was a reasonable request.

[makeup-wonder-woman]

I’m a Spider, Not a Bat

Prompt: Hi, can you please do a fanfic where the reader is Natasha's daughter ( marvel ) and something goes wrong on a mission and the reader gets sucked into the DC universe, and asks for the batfams help to get back. But later on falls in love with Tim Drake and has trouble deciding if she wants to go home to the Marvel universe, or stay in the DC universe.

Your Super Hero Name: Recluse

Pairing: Tim Drake X Reader

TW: Blood

Word Count: 1,032

 It was your first mission with your Mother. The infamous Black Widow. You were the product of a seduction, so your Father-some top official in a small country- was dead. That was okay with you, by the time you had reconnected with your mother- or rather the Avengers found out that you existed and immediately 'kidnapped' you from your group home in Nevada. There was a legal adoption a few days later, on your tenth birthday. Now, You couldn't be happier. Thor was the big brother you didn't know you needed. Tony Stark and Steve were your favorite Uncles, Peter Parker was your annoying younger brother, Bruce and Clint were a father figures, and your mom...

 "I never wanted to give you up," She said one evening, trying to get close to you,"Not in my heart. But I had to. The Red Room was after me, they wanted you to keep me in line. I wasn't supposed to have children, but you were my miracle. I did what I could to keep you safe."

  You had to understand that. She was there now, that's all that mattered, she clearly loved you, protected you if ever the tower came under attack. She gave you the family you always wanted.

  She refused to really train you,"I have bad habits," She shook her head when you had asked at age twelve," I'll teach you a few moves, but I shouldn't train you fully."

  Back then, that had hurt a bit. But Clint had taken you out for ice cream to stop your pouring and had explained a bit of your mother's past. He and Steve were the main ones to train you. Now, at twenty, and with Peter Parker under your own web, you were content.

 Your mom set her hand on your arm,"Y/N? Are you okay?"

  You looked over at her, a nervous smile on your face,"Yeah, just a bit nervous. I was thinking about the past..."

 Your mom tucked a bit of your hair behind your ear,"You shouldn't dwell on the past, look to the future, like, maybe, I don't know. Finding a boyfriend-"

 "Mom," You groaned.

"-Or a girlfriend, I mean I don't judge."

"-Uncle Steve was right, you are the worst-"

 "Oh come on," Your mother smirked,"I just wanna see my baby happy!"

"I am perfectly happy right now. Single as a Pringle."

 Your mother giggled, actually giggled, and then relented,"Alright, alright, I give." Your back straightened as the alarm sounded and your mother handed you a parachute,"Time to go!" You nodded and took it from her gently before buckling it.

  You weren't sure what happened. AIM must have know you were coming. There base had been at this huge dam, in some small foreign country that never made any big waves internationally, that was why it took you so long to find.

    You had separated yourself from the group by accident, your were at the very top of the dam, everyone was below you at the observation level. You were grappling with some unnamed AIM agent, wrestling with them, trying to incapacitate them while they were trying to stab you with a knife. You'd already thrown their gun into the water far, far below, so they weren't happy with you.

   You grabbed with them for the knife, managing to throw it to the narrow ground underneath you. You leapt at them and got them in a choke hold, and they stopped.

  What you weren't expecting was another to appear behind you and shoot you in the back. Your left shoulder to be more specific. You staggered forward and then turned to them, prepared to kill now that you were injured. When you saw them, you were surprised. This wasn't an AIM agent, this was some man that was dressed in a gray body suit with a green cape that covered him. You thought it was Doctor Doom, but Doctor Doom didn’t have pale glowing green eyes...

 The gun went off again, surprising you, the bullring entered your stomach and you were thrown backwards, towards the observation deck. Your mother and the rest of the Avengers looked up in horror,"Y/N!" She screamed. Time seemed to slow down, you looked at her as you fell past the observation deck, you were going to die, you wouldn't survive this fall. You closed your eyes, going limp, accepting your fate.

 You only hoped your mother could hold it together.

   You had been falling for too long. You felt the pressure change and your ears popped and you were suddenly wide awake. There was no river below you, only ground. You fell past a few beams and your wrist shot out. Having trained with Parker, you were equipped with something similar to his web shooters. The strong thread shot out and wrapped around the beam, allowing you to slow your descent enough to go into a roll landing.

 Still painful, but you were still alive. You rolled onto your feet in a crouched position and immediately took in your surroundings. It was a cave, maybe you fell through the opening. The only good source of light seemed to be coming from this large computer right in front of you. You could see ceiling lights but they were turned off. This area was also very large, you weren't sure how big, but their were multiple large masses about thirty yards away. Too bad you couldn't see in the dark.

    You were lucky to inherit your mother's instincts, and after her fine training, you could hear the person about to drop in on you long before they hit you. You dove out of the way, your stomach and shoulder screaming bloody murder. Then you remember your stomach as the adrenaline ran out. The pain, coupled with the fact that you could feel your whole front becoming slick with blood. You pressed your hands into it moaning in pain, you looked up, it was a young boy, maybe around Peter's age...

 "H... help..." You whimpered before falling unconscious.

  The lights flickered on as Damian Wayne stood over you, he didn't know you, but when he saw the blood starting to pull he sigh,"Father! Alfred! We have a situation!"

[gurlluvswriting]

Grounded (Damian Wayne)

Request from: @grumpycheshirecat Prompt: “Oh, you want to fight me? That’s cute.” Warnings: Guns, a school shooting situation, and a kidnapping. (No one dies just so you know). A/N: I hope that it’s okay that this isn’t a reader insert-- there wasn’t necessarily a specification, and the first thing that came to my mind didn’t include a reader. If you want me to redo this one, just let me know, and I’ll write a different one for you.

Damian was having a spectacularly boring week. Father had grounded him from patrol for defending himself against Drake’s hostile stupidity (or as Bruce had put it: “Damian, it isn’t acceptable to attempt to cut off Tim’s limbs just because he accidentally stepped on Alfred the cat’s paw when the cat came up from behind him.”) The boy huffed out an annoyed breath before clicking his tongue irritably. He would have simply snuck off, had Pennyworth not been keeping a close eye on him.

Nothing got past that man- he had set up his escape perfectly. His pillows were stuffed under the blanket, he kept the lights completely off, he waited hours to ensure that the elder believed he was asleep, and just as he had slightly made his way to the window, his door was thrown open and the words: “And where do you think you’re running off to, Master Damian?” made him nearly jump out of his skin (not that he’d ever admit it).

Damian had even attempted to call Grayson in order to demand that he convince Father to put an end to this ridiculous punishment- or at the very least shorten the timeframe. Not only did the older man somehow end up doing the opposite (Damian received an extra three weeks of no patrol), he had the audacity to tell him that this was an opportunity. He had rambled on and on in an annoyingly bubbly tone of how it was a chance for him to get to act normal. Damian had only listened because at the very end Grayson told him that within this experience he’d have more knowledge on how to act more like civilians did and become more skilled on keeping unwanted attention away from himself.

So, here he was. Attending school. Having not even been allowed to glance at his Robin costume for seven whole days-- a whole week. He was itching for a fight- PE simply wasn’t cutting it anymore, it wasn’t challenging enough. He knew he could easily take down anyone in this building, but that would be wrong, considering they’re innocent citizens.

Then again, he couldn’t be 100% sure, considering his privileges on doing a thorough search on a person’s background have also been revoked. He narrows his eyes at the newly hired janitor- Mr. Mueller, if that is his true name, will not be catching him off guard should he show his true colors. Whatever those colors may be.

He enters the building while mumbling his signature “tt” under his breath.

It���s about three hours into school that the ‘lockdown’ happens. Great. Now he gets to be extra bored-- no patrol, no fighting, and now he doesn’t even get to have class. At least when lessons were being taught he’d have something to do, rather than sitting on the floor with the crowd of quivering classmates and a nervous teacher.

It wasn’t even a full five minutes when the door was kicked down, a gunman pointing his shotgun at the teacher. His eyes skim the students until he locks onto Damian- who meets his glare head on and with no fear.

The man turns towards the hallway for a split second. “Found Wayne’s kid! He’s here!”

While Damian’s teacher surely had the intention of taking the guy off-guard in hopes to defend him, maybe let him escape, it was more stupid than anything. With a swift flick of his arm, the man whacks the teacher over their head, causing them to become unconscious within seconds, and for all the children to let out screams of terror and curl up further into themselves.

Damian simply stood when the criminal attempted to approach, not wanting anyone else to get hurt simply because the fool didn’t understand what he was getting into. The man grips his hair to tug him close, only eliciting a huff of annoyance from the boy, and then drags him by his forearm once close enough.

While he’s being pulled along in the hallway, he finds himself hiding a smirk- finally something interesting was happening. He’d been aching for some action- something to get his blood pumping and his fists smashing things. Yes, these guys simply had no clue what world of pain they had walked into.

Damian’s patient. He’s not foolish enough to just jump into a fight when he’s brought to a group of armed men, nor is he stupid enough to start something when he’s tied up and thrown in the back of their getaway car. No, while he was excited for what was to come, he wasn’t going to risk the danger of innocent people, even if he was sure he could have taken all of these goons within five seconds.

So he waits until they pull up into a warehouse- and truly, could they be anymore cliche? He waits until they shove him in a chair that was placed in the middle of the mostly empty room, and even then he waits longer. He waits until their ringleader enters, and suppresses an overly excited grin when the criminal approaches.

“That’s quite the look in your eye,” Their leader states, peering in Damian’s eyes. “You look like you’re ready to spring at any moment.”

Damian can’t suppress his evil smile then, his eyes glowing even darker at the thoughts of completely destroying these people.

The leader looks unimpressed, and snorts. “Oh, you wanna fight me? That’s cute.”

“Funny,” Damian finally speaks. “I was thinking the same about your sad attempt of taking me ‘hostage’.”

With that said, he snaps the weak confines on his hands, flips himself over the chair, balances himself on his hands, and kicks the chair harshly into the man’s face. So much for being a leader- he was already out with just one hit, how disappointing.

The others come running over, obviously agitated, and Damian simply dodges their attacks before giving them some of his own. One man goes down with a hard kick to the groin; another’s head snaps so loudly at a well-placed punch, Damian worries he had accidentally killed the man; before the last of the bunch falls after four punches to the gut, a swipe under his legs, and his arm being snapped when Damian places a sturdy foot on his shoulder and yanks at his wrist.

The boy loudly groans in exasperation and kicks the leader who’s still unconscious; this was supposed to be more entertaining than this. They were too weak. They went down too quickly. The only adrenaline that showed up was the anticipation of finally getting a fight- but this wasn’t even a fight.

With folded arms he turns around to see Batman stomping over to him. Father looms over him, his white lenses narrowed sternly.

“Damian-”

“I would like to point out they attacked first,” He quickly interrupts.

“No they didn’t,” before any protest can be made, his father gruffly says: “I saw you fling the chair first.”

“Self-defense.”

“Damian.”

“They kidnapped me! What, was I supposed to just sit still?”

“Yes! Fighting while out of costume is a very dangerous thing, Damian!”

Damian opens his mouth to retort, but then shuts it roughly and looks at the floor angrily. After a minute of silence, the vigilante sighs and places a gentle hand on his shoulder, opting him to look up.

He’s surprised to see that his jaw isn’t clenched, and there isn’t anymore signs of annoyance in his body language. “However, it’s… good that you didn’t start a fight at the school. You waited until you were out of sight before engaging.” He pauses awkwardly, before turning and walking towards the exit. “Well done.”

Damian inhales deeply at the praise, before sprinting over to fall into step at his father’s side. They both remain silent until the Batmobile comes into view. “I’ll drive.”

“No, you’re still grounded.”

“So, after-”

“No.”

“Tt.”