#I’ll go for robin first and hopefully get her in enough time to also get my boy

[strawberri-draws]

Manifesting boothill and robin next event 🙏

[0lympus-mons]

wip wednesday (thursday (but actually friday))

tagged by @sayheykid the lovely writer of delightful baseball oc's who recently got into boat racing which is even more exciting. I am on the struggle bus with exams and a bunch of new WIPs and a secret third special project that I want to get traditionally published that I will be writing over the summer when school stops beating me to death. For now, as a condolence for the fact that PLCW is going on a brief hiatus (maybe 1-2 weeks and hopefully no more) here are some snippets (and mild-ish spoilers below the cut) (also if you want to vote on what I write next that poll is still open for a few days I think) Tagging @aristocrating @talentpiper11 and anyone else up here because I don't want you guys to have to hide that below the cut. As always, no pressure. Happy Easter!!

Untitled WIP, Chapter One: Nausicaa

Reno, Nevada: June 2012 The divorce papers are waiting in a yellow manila envelope on the kitchen table, the day after the Reno Gunslingers win Game 2 of the Calder Cup Finals.  AHL players on the first year of their entry-level contracts don’t make enough to not live with other people, so James Vickers isn’t the first person to get his hands on the end of his marriage. His roommate’s girlfriend is the one who sets it on the dining table face down. She knows what’s going to happen before it happens; she’s read the sender’s postmark, and she is the one who wrestles her boyfriend into their bedroom under the guise of “celebration” when the two hockey players barge through the door an hour after midnight, still laughing.  Jamie doesn’t read the postmark when the door shuts between him and leaves them alone in the kitchen. He swallows half an energy drink and calls Paige, who doesn’t pick up. His beautiful, brilliant wife, with her glowing blonde hair and sweet face and God, he misses her like a hole punched through his chest. Paige, who knows she’s too good for him and still lets him put a ring on the same finger he has been wrapped around for years anyway. With the benefit of hindsight, maybe that should have been his first sign of trouble.

Oh Jamie Vickers, you and me, we're really in it now. This will be my first time writing an american protagonist. i don't think i know how to do that. we'll find out together

Four Nations Face Off: Round Robin, CAN v. USA

This is Kent’s worst nightmare.  “This is my worst nightmare.” Across the ice, Augustin and Jack are staring at him, decked out in blood red with their heads leaned together as they whisper to each other. Kent wants to kill them both, but it’s probably too late. As far as he knows, he’s about to be murdered.  “I don’t like the way that they’re looking at us,” agrees one of his alternates, Ethan Barker. “I feel like they can see when and how I’ll die. Like, one can see when, and the other can see how-”  “I get it,” Kent snaps. “They kinda look related,” Pierce McMurray, his other A, muses. Kent needs to throw up right now, because he’s right. Augustin is like a skinnier, more elegant model of Jack’s broader, superhero looks. Still, they stand at about the same height in skates, and ever since Augustin finally started carrying weight through the season and cutting his hair short enough that it can't be tied into a tuft at the base of his neck—which Kent considers a crime against humanity, by the way—they look similar from the back, too. It’s worse when they’re wearing helmets. Kent’s going to have a heart attack. “I’m having unholy thoughts,” he says out loud, mostly by accident. Across the ice, Augustin is smiling, a flicker of white teeth against pale skin and red mouth, like he knows exactly what the two of them look like together. He puts his hand low on Jack’s back as their heads lean closer together, and Kent feels his teeth grind together. “Like murder?” Pierce asks. “Yeah,” Kent replies faintly when Jack leans down to whisper something in Augustin’s ear that makes the grin more evil than it already is. “Like murder.”

Yeah. like murder.

Pain's Like Cold Water, Chapter 21: Tout Est Juste (mild spoilers)

“I have a question,” Lily says gravely, her hands braced on her hips, “For you.” “Okay,” Chris wipes the blade of his skate clean of wet, grey ice, watching it splatter across the rubberized floor the same way that it does every time, “Shoot.” “Our coach said that practice is cancelled next week before the big tournament,” Lily rolls her eyes so hard that it moves her head, “He said he had “work stuff,” but he said that if we can find another coach, we can have practice.” “Okay,” Chris agrees, “That sucks. I don’t know any coaches other than Nils, but I can ask if he knows anyone-” “The old guy?” Lily asks, wrinkling her nose, “I don’t want the old guy. I want Jordan Dunleavy to coach us.” “Oh,” Chris says, blinking at her. She just stares back at him, eyes wide behind her cage and her pink helmet matching her tape as she props her chin on the end of her stick, until he says, “I mean…I think he’s probably busy.” He goes back to untying his skates, but her pink laces don’t go anywhere. Her stick taps the floor impatiently until he looks up at her again. She’s scowling when she asks, “With what?” “Um,” Chris says, nonplussed, “His own work stuff. Hockey stuff. And, like…other adult things. Like taxes, it’s tax season. Go ask your dad what a T4 is.” “Can you just ask him?” Chris purses his lips, “Ask Jordie what a T4 is? I don’t actually think he knows.”

Jordie my-mom-has-a-phd-in-economics-from-oxford Dunleavy does not do his own taxes. he does not know what a T4 is.

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

Prom Date

Summary: Prom is coming and you want nothing more than to go. A certain metalhead goes above and beyond chivalry. 

F! Reader Insert,  6111 Words

Warnings:  SMUT! Minors DNI. Y/N is over 18. Eddie is scarred from the Upside Down. I took some liberties and decided Vecna was defeated in this. Making out, smoking, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, cursing, food mentions, protected sex.

Authors Note:  This has been in the works for ages, and I am unleashing it lol. I never went to prom sooooo this is another self indulgent one lol. Also, I am always looking for inspo, so I will absolutely take requests for one-shots, blurbs, and head canons. If you don’t have an idea and just wanna chat, that’s cool too! I promise I won't bite.

The complaint you had been making gets caught in your throat, embarrassment heating your cheeks as the conversation you were having with Steve is halted by the bell above the door to Family Video.

It’s the first time it’s gone off since you’d settled in here after school to hang out with your friends. The place was dead enough that the interruption alone would have garnered your glance, but instead your full attention is quickly commanded by the metalhead entering beneath the bell, already grinning as he takes you in at the counter. “Hey Y/N…Steve…Robin.” He nods at each of you as the lot of you greet him back.

Your simple, “Hi Eddie.” is much more reserved than you feel as you ignore the butterflies he causes by approaching, a stack of video tapes tucked under one of the scarred arms that peeks unapologetically from his Black Sabbath t-shirt.

“What are we talking about?” He asks with a small chuckle, to which Robin immediately throws you under the bus.

“Prom.” She supplies in a pained tone, adding, “Y/N doesn’t have a date.” 

“Robin!” You complain sharply as Steve gives her a stern look. Her eyes widen, having missed the cue that maybe you wouldn’t want Eddie to know that - to open yourself up for his scrutiny on top of your already miserable desires.

Eddie doesn’t mock you though. He takes one look at you, at the apparent mortification on your face that’s now hidden by your hands, and you can only assume he takes pity on you. 

In response to Robin’s words, just loud enough for you to hear, he insists “Go with me.” 

As the words register, you drop your hands, your eyes widening before you can help it.

You let out a small, disbelieving sound at Eddie, cringing at the way it comes out like a mutilated laugh. “Doesn’t prom go against your entire belief system?” You mutter, Eddie smiling like you’ve just paid him a compliment. 

“Oh absolutely it does...But who am I to turn a blind eye to a damsel in distress?”  He gives a small chuckle, before catching the downtrodden look on your face and quickly scrambling.

“That’s not to say that uh, I wouldn’t enjoy myself. I think…I mean, if it’s with you, I think it could be fun.” There’s a slight smile playing around the edge of his lips.

It would be fun. It would be…everything. And you want him to mean it so desperately that it takes you a moment to notice the way that your delay affects Eddie. The way he fidgets with his hands…Shifts from foot to foot…Could he actually be nervous? 

You melt.

“I…I’d really like to go.” You confess, your voice small in the wake of the admittance you hadn’t allowed yourself thus far. Putting yourself out there, only to have Eddie’s answering smile take the breath from your lungs.

“It’s a date then.” He sets his pile of videos on the counter, glancing at your mutual friends. “Take care of this for me, will you Harrington? I gotta go find a tux.”  

Steve pulls the tapes towards himself as Eddie starts to walk backwards toward the door, eyes never leaving you even for a moment. “I’ll see you later?” He asks hopefully. 

You nod far too readily only for him to grin again and wave, rings glinting in the fluorescent lighting, before he heads out.

As the door closes behind him, Robin gives you a wide eyed look, Steve scanning the returns as he lets out a very casual. “Munson, huh? Now that I wasn’t expecting.”

“Me neither.” You reply, already fretting about making sure that things go perfectly as you pinch yourself that Eddie Munson has really just asked you to prom.

Robin starts talking a mile a minute, having garnered acceptance of the situation much more quickly than your still bewildered state, and Steve lovingly reminds you both to breathe. 

It feels far removed from you in that moment and beyond it, as the days leading up to prom seem to accelerate in your anxious state.

Until it’s the night of and finally you head to Steve’s, where his bathroom counter has been taken over by all the beauty products Robin, Robin’s mother, (and Steve,) collectively owned. 

While there you’re given the full glamor treatment - makeup, hair, the works.

It’s a great time. Not only do you enjoy this bit of pampering but as they help you get ready, Steve and Robin reminisce about their own memories of prom to your utter delight.

Steve’s is a classic tale - 85’ prom king, underage drinking, and an after party where he and his date went all the way.

“Gag.” Robin interjected, launching into her own unconventional tale. A prom that involved crashing in 84’ after a spiteful makeover and some light property damage. 

You laugh along with both your friends and think to yourself that both experiences, while wonderful, were nothing compared to what stood before you - an evening with Eddie.

It was tying you up in knots, the anticipation. The nerves that took what was upcoming and loaded it on top of every interaction you two had shared previously. A perfect storm of wondering if things between you two were moving in the direction you hoped for…If this was more than just  chivalry to him. 

You wanted it to be. Cataloging all of the previously stolen glances between you two…the inside jokes…

“Would you stop pacing,” Steve insisted, grabbing you by the shoulders. “It’s gonna be fine! Trust me.”

“Trust you.” You repeated, about to go off on an anxiety-induced spiral of self deprecation before Robin interjected and halted you in your tracks. She said some words - pretty and French. Something about maybe how you looked? Or how Eddie was going to feel when he looked at you? You weren’t sure.

In any case, it helped. You took a deep breath and put a relaxed smile on your face. Robin took the opportunity to snap a Polaroid of the three of you. 

This led to a dozen more photos, Steve and Robin posing with you like the parents sending you off. Robin wiped fake tears from her eyes and Steve started in on a fake lecture about boys and how they were no good, and back in his day...

You were still laughing at that when a knock on the door caused you to freeze, nerves supplanting themselves right back in the pit of your stomach as Steve went to let Eddie in, quickly sidestepping so the pair of you could take each other in.

As your gaze landed on Eddie, you couldn’t help but find him impossibly handsome - clean shaven, shiny brown curls falling past his shoulders where he’d managed to find a relatively nice suit to wear.

You were surprised to see a boutonniere in the same color as your dress - your favorite color - beside his lapel. In his still ringed hands he held a plastic container with a matching corsage. 

You couldn’t help but to go slack-jawed in awe at the sight, touched beyond measure.

Steve clears his throat behind the pair of you. You hadn’t noticed how long you’d been ogling Eddie - or that he’d been struck just as speechless at the sight of you in your prom dress.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” He pipes up, the both of you meeting halfway. 

“Thank you, Eddie. You look really handsome.” You swear, fondness in your voice.

He beams at you, gingerly holding up the corsage, “Can I?” He asks. 

You offer your wrist, Robin and Steve snapping away with the camera. You stick your tongue out at them after giving them a generous moment to get the shot.

They wave you off, forcing the two of you into all kinds of poses that you complain about but know you’ll cherish - physical remnants of the way Eddie holds you tight and smiles like he’s proud to have you. 

These and a few group shots, the last of which has Eddie making a classic rockstar pose and Steve faux-flexing, and you two are ushered off the lawn and on your way.

“Not too late now!” Steve teases - Robin's arm is around his waist as she waves you off.

You roll your eyes at both of them, addressing him when you say, “I’ll be sure to do that, mom.” And Eddie laughs as they flip you the bird and disappear into the house to hang out.

“You ready?” Eddie asks sweetly, to which you nod, already heading for his van.

When he sees which way you’re going he gently catches you by the arm, shaking his head. “Your chariot for the evening is actually this way my lady.”

Your confused expression turns to one of surprise as Eddie produces a set of keys from his pocket, jingling them in the general direction of Steve’s BMW. 

“Steve said I could borrow her, with some stipulations.” Eddie explained, a bit of a pink tint to the tips of his ears at whatever they were, as he hurried over and opened your door for you before you could ask.

Once you and your dress are situated he shuts you in gently, heading around the front of the vehicle and sliding into the driver’s seat.

“How’d you pull that off?” You ask nonchalantly instead, smoothing your dress down your legs. 

Eddie clears his throat, eyes on your ankle and sounding a touch embarrassed as he explains. “I told him that I didn’t want you to show up to your prom in the old grease bucket, smelling like weed…He took pity on me I think.”

He waves it off, but you frown. Not liking the answer, you call his name gently, reassuring him. “I could have rolled up in half a rotting pumpkin and I would still be happy because I’m there with you.”

Feeling bold, you reach out and squeeze his hand reassuringly. You’re planning to let go but Eddie suddenly squeezes back, lacing your fingers together.

“Is-is this okay?” He nods down at the hand he holds, a timid smile on his face. You smile wide in return, promising him, “It’s perfect.”

Not much more needs to be said. He holds your hand the whole ride to the school, a guitar you recognize playing low in the background. Not Steve’s usual station for sure, and you don’t mind at all.

When the two of you arrive, the parking lot is already full - well, as full as it can be with half the town having moved away overnight…Upperclassmen are all around, running free in their fancy attire, having a blast. Cutting lose in a much needed way after the last year of hell.

Paying them no mind, Eddie takes your hand and leads you through the halls of the school, where you flash your tickets at the entry before heading inside the gym. 

You smile as you take in the packed space, full of colorful balloons and gossamer streamers hanging, winding, and climbing every available surface. 

A cluster of colorfully dressed people jumps, twirls, and writhes in the middle of the floor, creating a cluster of hairspray smell that’s a bit overwhelming.

Eddie takes one look at you under the twinkle lights, and feels his heart skip a beat.

“Hard to believe this is the same room where I’ve spent so much time faking injuries.” You tell him when you meet his gaze, your admittance making him laugh. 

“I wish I would have known, I’m notorious for my nosebleeds. I could have kept you supplied with plenty of fake blood.” He taps the side of said nose in emphasis, and you can’t help but think about how well a kiss would fit right there. “Hm” You muse, slight smile on your lips. “I usually go with ‘sprained ankle.’ Guaranteed reading time for the whole period. Doubt a few drops of blood can get you the same result.” “A few drops? I’ll have you know that I have a very serious vitamin K deficiency.” He answers, smirk on his lips. “A nosebleed from me is a guaranteed bloodbath. Coach can’t get me out of here fast enough.” 

You bark out a laugh. “You’re a little bit evil, Munson.”

“Maybe.” He grins huge, hand to his heart. “I promise you though, no excuses tonight.” Eddie shakes his hair out. “I am but your humble servant, here to dance to your heart’s desires.”

You raise an eyebrow, but he isn’t joking - he drags you to the makeshift dance floor, where scattered couples give you a wide berth, Eddie never showing whether he minds or not. He moves along to the music blaring throughout the gym, encouraging you to join him. You fold way too fast, inspired to abandon your nerves with the way he’s smiling and looking at you like there’s no one else in the room. 

You keep your gaze on him, loving how when he dances it’s in complete confidence - treating each song like a concert he’s putting on for the two of you. It’s silly and uncoordinated and so much fun. 

After a sporadic turn around the dance floor to the pop that Eddie loathes, for what feels like ages, the pair of you suddenly grow nervous at the slow song that cuts through - a soulful angelic voice rife with passion, urging lover’s together.

You're surrounded by peers who’ve already fallen into their dates' arms when Eddie holds a hand out. 

Head up slightly, you place your hand in his and he doesn’t hesitate to pull you in close, swaying the pair of you from side to side.

The song goes on - romantic and full of promise, and changes the atmosphere entirely. When it ends, Eddie doesn’t seem like he can go back to jumping and bopping around to the hits of today.

Instead he unwraps his arms from around your waist without a word, linking his arm with yours and leading you out the double doors of the cafeteria.

By this point in the night the prom is in full swing, so the concession tables lined up outside just beyond the doors in the senior hallway are nearly abandoned.

There’s one bleary eyed chaperone posted out front to guard the punch, halfheartedly asking if you’re having fun as Eddie pours you a generous cup full. 

You nod at her in reply and down the drink, trying not to wince at the taste and give yourself away. Knowing that said chaperone had definitely fallen asleep at the wheel.

The second your back is turned though, you’re pulling a face, and Eddie chuckles at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering there a touch too long. It feels more than friendly.

“I’m really glad you asked me to come.” You blurt before you can help it, immediately hiding behind the pretense of taking another sip of your drink.

Eddie’s eyes grow soft at your words. “I’m really glad you said yes.” He admits.

It takes you by surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He moves in a touch closer, looking like he wants to say something.

He clams up though when there’s an apparent shift change at the punch table. A new teacher is taking the place of the old, this one looking at Eddie entirely disapprovingly. Likely traumatized from having him in class at some point.

And Eddie, for all his confidence, seems to shrink. Looks wholly defeated.

You frown, urging him down the hall and away from disapproving eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, plastering a smile on his face that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Got the best girl in Hawkins all to myself, what could be wrong?”

The compliment almost distracts you. “Eddie,” you complain softly, with a small laugh.

He loves the sound of your laugh. Loves seeing you get all flustered. “Alright alright, so to be fair I don’t ‘got’ you - but I did bring you to the prom. Now you’ll never forget me.” He grins.

You want to tell him that he can have you - take you, you’ll be his, but you're not brave enough to make the offer, and so you tease him about the latter part of his statement, “Forget you?” You ask incredulously. “We’ve fought interdimensional monster’s together, Munson. I’m not likely to forget that any time soon.”

“Ah you say that now. But in fifty years? I would have just been that guy with the tattoos who complained the whole time…Now as your senior prom date...I mean, hell, even Wayne remembers his prom date, and the old man likely couldn’t tell you what I made for dinner last night.” He grimaces more than he laughs.

You frown slightly, although you try hard to keep your words light. “You make it sound like you’re going somewhere.” 

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not going anywhere sweetheart...That’s kind of that point. Girls like you go off, change the world…And guys like me get left behind, wondering what might have been.” 

“Eddie.” You frown, not sure where to begin with that. “What are you saying?”

“Just that…I hope you’ll remember me.” He tells you sadly.

“Eddie,” You blurt, a touch too loudly. The other occupant of the hall narrows her eyes, looking like she’s debating intervening. You bite your lip and lower your voice. “Why is it what could have been? Why does…nothing come of it?”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Eddie murmurs quietly. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Oh no, you absolutely should have…because if you’re telling me that you like me…” You shake your head in disbelief. “Eddie, I will never let you go.”

“Y/N…” he protests softly, and he sounds much older than twenty years old. You shake your head, taking his hands in yours, squeezing reassuringly.

“Eddie, I’m not going anywhere, okay? Dr. Brenner asked me to work with him after graduation. Stay in Hawkins where we can try to undo some of the nasty ugly that Vecna unleashed…That being said, wherever I am, stay or go, you do not get to decide that you’re not good enough for me. Not after everything.”

And then, with the backing that Eddie likes you - likes you and for all his doubts wants to be remembered by you, you take a leap. 

You lean in, pressing your lips to his firmly, lingering there even when he’s kissed you back, pulled away so now he’s stammering, lips still brushing yours.

“So I-you’re-” Eddie stutters. You nudge his cute nose with your own, expression soft, nerves worked out by the man’s sincerity. 

“I like you, Eddie.” You tell him, eyes hopeful. “Is it enough?”

“More than enough.” He breathed. He leaned back in for another kiss, and then another. Only stopping when the nosey chaperone behind the two of you cleared her throat loudly. 

He rests his forehead against yours. There’s several comfortable beats of silence as he takes in what’s happened. Then he offers, nervously and quietly, “…you wanna go dance some more?” 

You nod eagerly.

The night wears on with more dancing, laughter, and stolen kisses. 

When hours have passed and the band is wrapping up, you still don’t want to let Eddie go, holding him tight even as the overhead lights come on in the gym, clean up starting in the echoing silence.

Eddie hums softly, face downtrodden. “I guess…I guess I better get you home.”

“Sure or…” You clear your throat, looking at Eddie from beneath your lashes. “I mean, it’s kind of been implied that I’m spending the night at Robin’s…so uh, no one’s waiting up for me or anything…” 

“Oh?” Eddie perks up. “Well uh, Steve is very much back there waiting up for his lady, so…maybe we can get rid of her and spend some more time together?” 

You agree readily, letting out a small laugh. “I’d love that…Now let’s hurry, I absolutely cannot be in these shoes any longer.”

Eddie quickly straightens up, holding out an arm. “Say no more.”

He leads you out of the gym, giving a small jerk where you two maintain contact before you can step into the darkened near-empty parking lot. 

“What is it?” You ask him, only for him to slip his arm out of your hold, both hands landing on your shoulders before he sinks down to one knee in front of you.

“Give me,” He insists, slapping his upper thigh. 

Confused, you raise a foot slowly, only to squeak as he makes quick work of robbing you of the shoe you present him, then the other, the strappy heels held tightly in his hand as he scrambles to his feet.

“Eddie!” You gasp, bare feet on the pavement. 

He looks absolutely diabolical as he coos at you, “Don’t worry baby, I don’t expect you to walk.”

Expected instead to sweep you off your feet, making you let out a loud startled sound as he hoists you up and throws you over his shoulder.

“Eddie!” You squeal in protest, face hot as you protest that you're way too heavy for this, only for Eddie to laugh at you and ignore what you think are perfectly valid concerns.

Eddie’s having none of it, strong and steady as he deposits you in Steve’s car, your offending shoes pressed into your hands.

He jogs giddily around the front of the BMW, sliding into the front seat and firing her up.

“You’re a menace.” You whine, attempting to fix what the night of dancing and being carried around has done to your hair.

Eddie laughs at you, reaching out a hand tentatively. You take it firmly, bringing it up to your lips to press a kiss to it. Eddie’s whole demeanor softens, and you do it again. And again.

Eddie only stops you once you get to Steve’s a few minutes later, where he quickly rushes inside, not wanting your mutual friends to come out and intrude on your evening.

A few minutes later and you’re in the front seat of his van, the engine rumbling beneath you as he mentions that he could go for a smoke, and you readily agree.

Rather than take you back to his and Wayne’s place though - newly  assigned by the government after Vecna’s assault - to your surprise he drives the two of you out to Lover’s Lake.

“I still like to come out here sometimes. It’s mostly peaceful now that the whole town is…well, a ghost town.” He explains, nervous as he pulls out some pre-rolled blunts in a little baggie and a box of camels from his dashboard, holding them both up to you as options. 

You choose the blunts, and he situates the rejects before glancing behind him nervously. “We uh, we can get in the back and open the doors up if you want? There’s more room.”

Trying and failing to hide your smile, you nod and climb back, Eddie quickly following and popping open the doors, the night air wafting in over the slightly rippling water as he lights up.

“Oh wow.” You tilt your head back and take in the stars and moon hanging overhead. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says absentmindedly, taking a long drag. Breathing out a plume of smoke, eyes only for you. “Beautiful.”

You meet his gaze, and he blushes, coughing slightly. Your hand finds his unoccupied one, and you squeeze.

The two of you are out there for a while, sharing the blunt back and forth until relaxation coats your bones, a lazy smile taking over your lips.

“I’m really glad you asked me to prom.” You grin, repeating your words from earlier.

Eddie merely chuckles, remembering. “I’m really glad you said yes…and that I’m going to see more of you,” he says it like a question, and you’re already nodding, taking your hit.

“I told you, there’s no getting rid of me now.” You laugh. Eddie tilts his head to the side at the sound, long curls falling over his shoulder. 

He’s gorgeous like this - in the low light of the moon, with his tie, or rather, his corporate noose of oppression, long since discarded. (He’d kicked it playfully, the big dork.)  

All that and a hint of skin showing beyond the top few undone buttons of his shirt…he was lovelier than anything in this whole town.

“You promise?” Eddie asks playfully, two fingers raising the blunt and inhaling a touch sharply - he blinks his eyes at you coyly, but you know there’s real insecurity behind the question. 

You brush his hand to the side and kiss him in answer. Slow and sweet, but when Eddie scrambles to abandon the blunt altogether, eager to get both his hands on you, all bets are off.

Bunching up your suddenly constricting prom dress in your hands, you struggle to get closer to Eddie, straddling him as you slip your tongue in his mouth.

Minutes go by like this, the atmosphere growing hot and heavy, until your soft sucking on his earlobe makes him jerk harshly up into you.

“Fuck,” he gasps, trying to pull away, eyes darting down to where your dress is bunched up around your thighs. “Sorry!” 

You frown, trying to keep your seat. “Don’t be sorry! …I uh, I was hoping…maybe we could…if you wanted to…”

He groans before shaking out his hair, trying to clear his mind. “Course’ I do, just…we’re in the van.” He emphasized. “S’not how I wanted to do things…”

You plant another kiss on his lips. Tug on his bottom lip with your teeth. “…Please?”

He folds way too fast.

“Fuck, okay. Can’t say no to those eyes.” He shakes his head slightly. Wants to ingrain the smile that takes over your face in his mind forever. 

Especially when you reach out for him again, kissing him passionately. “…Gonna take such good care of you.” He practically growls, and you let out a shudder.

“Promise?” You bat your eyes at him, repeating the words that had started this whole thing.

“Shit, I’d do anything for you. You know that don’t you?” He asks, cradling your face in his hands with the utmost care. A nod from you and he smiles, eyes darting over to the van’s front.

“Gimme a sec,” he instructs, leaving you momentarily to fish around under his seat, producing a blanket that he tosses down, spreading it out.

“There we are.” He offers a sheepish grin as you ease yourself into the padding he’s laid out for you, guiding Eddie to situate himself atop you as you lock lips once again. 

While you kiss, his growing harness pressing eagerly against you, you work his suit jacket off his shoulders, undoing a few more buttons so he can shuck his shirt off after it. 

You're eager to feel any skin you can, sighing contentedly at having him beneath your fingers.

Eddie starts to tense up a bit though, the more that’s revealed, apologies already on his lips.

“Hey, none of that.” You shake your head. “I want you to an embarrassing degree. A few battle scars aren’t going to scare me off.”

“It’s more than a few.” He cleared his throat, offering a tiny smile. “But…okay…”

When you take in the sight of him - bare, scarred, fucking perfect, it’s not at all an exaggeration. And yet you’ve never seen something so beautiful.

The pattern interrupting his porcelain skin exists of of blush pinks and vibrant reds. Reaching across him in some places, splitting in others, every bit of it is a testament to his resilience and heroism.

You hope fate will grant you enough time to memorize them all someday as you tell him, “Very metal.”

“Yeah?” He quirks up a brow, looking a bit more relaxed.

“Hell yeah.” You reply teasingly, and Eddie chuckles before his kiss practically consumes you. 

Lips against yours, firm and eager, his hands roam your back that’s currently covered by silky fabric.

He glances down at where it covers you. “It really is a pretty dress…” he tells you, toying with the zipper. “Mind if I take it off?”

“Please.” You gasp.

“Oh.” He lets out a breath through his nose. “Good girl.”

Your head falls back slightly, eyes widening a fraction as he slips the zipper down and moves the fabric down over your arms, past your waist, your legs and ankles, discarding it off to the side.

Laid out before him in nothing but your strapless bra and lacey panties, he groans a little.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps. “Fuck...you look so damn sexy. I can’t wait to do this again somewhere I can see you properly…”

You giggle beneath him, and he swallows the sound with his kiss. Pulling back slightly and murmuring, asking if he can see more of you.

When you give him permission his lips graze your shoulder, planting little kisses there while his hands work behind you with the clasps of your bra.

When it comes loose, he pulls back and drinks you in, diving in readily.

You gasp when he first takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking softly, eagerly. 

Noises of ecstacy edge him on as he sucks, nibbles, teases, his hands and tongue and teeth lavishing your breasts with attention until you're shaking, hands buried in his hair.

“Feels so good, Eddie,” you whine.

Eddie grins widely down at you, hand tracing a path up your leg, “…want to taste you.” He breathes.

A nod and he’s between your legs, kneeling on marks left by gnashing teeth, grinning devilishly before he’s dragging his tongue up the center of you that’s still clothed for the moment.

You cry out in surprise and pleasure, back arching off the blanket and he grins, wanting your underwear out of the way now that he’s had some fun with you. 

He tugs them down your legs, murmuring all the while how gorgeous you are, his eyes drinking you in once you're finally, completely, naked beneath him. 

Then his words of praise get muffled by your inner thighs as he’s kissing and nipping at them, your legs thrown over his shoulders.

Looking up at you through his hair, he slowly dips his tongue into your slit and flicks up, holding your hips down from jolting against him.

His tongue dives in again and again, stroking you to the edge and lapping up everything you give him, as you tangle your hands in his hair and pull. 

He moans against you, tilting your hips up further, locking his grip and moving his tongue even quicker. 

Eddie can’t help but admire the scene in front of him as he eats you out, tits bouncing as you thrust against his mouth and the fingers he supplies, begging him for more. 

You look so good like this, all fucked-out, downright sobbing as Eddie devoured you. When you finally shatter under the sheer force of your orgasm, he nurses it for all its worth.

Eddie pulls back and swipes his tongue across his bottom lip as you catch your breath, admiring you as you come down. 

“And so pretty when you cum…” he praises you.

In the aftermath you reach for him blindly, and he crawls atop you on all fours, your mouths crashing together messily.

“Eddie,” you’re begging him. “Eddie, please…” pushing his pants and boxers down and off his hips with your feet, eager and uncoordinated, but he gets the message. 

Your eyes take in every inch of him, greedily running over every bit of skin as he kicks the offending fabric away before thinking better of it and turning his pants inside out to try and find his wallet and the condom within it.

There’s relief in his eyes when it turns up, shaking hands slowing him down until he finally just tears into the package with his teeth, unable to take it anymore. 

The sight practically causes your lower stomach to spasm.

Then he’s pinching the tip of the condom and rolling it down his length, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Fuck,” He sighs lightly, spreading your legs and lining himself up with you as you smile so hard your nose scrunches up. And holy hell if you aren’t the most perfect thing he’s ever seen.

Especially when he slips inside you finally, your walls tightening against the intrusion and gripping him so seamlessly.

Eddie groans, releasing his hold on himself so he can press your legs down a little further as he inches in. 

He cries out an array of explicatives as he watches himself disappear inside you, hearing you moan at the feeling of finally being full. 

His hips cant forward, slowly easing in and out until you cry out his name and praises. 

Eddie slams into you, driving in over and over, eyes closed tight against the pleasure of it all.

You’re making it so much better as you cry out beneath him, hands roving his body.

“Want you to fall apart on my cock, sweetheart.” He gasps, thumb working rhythmically against your clit, loving the little screams you let out when he plays with it.

With the way he has you on edge, swiping against that little button while he pounds into you hard and deep, just how you’re begging for it, it doesn’t take long at all.

You’re helpless as your walls bear down on him, his movements faltering under the intensity of your second orgasm as it washes over you. 

Then he picks his pace right back up, fucking into you where you’re still fluttering around him.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He accentuates each word with a harsh thrust. “Fucking knew you would be.” There’s sweat beading up on his forehead, his eyes still fixated on the spot where your bodies met. He sounds absolutely wrecked. Desperate.

“Had a damn near out of body experience when you were swinging that oar around. Fell so damn hard and just…fuck…Fucking knew, knew right then that if I was ever lucky enough to get you underneath me it was gonna be fucking transcendent.”

He drives into you a little harder at that point, and you moan loudly, nails digging into his back. 

Eddie hisses slightly, smiling, not a trace of cockiness in his tone as he begs you for reassurance. “Was I wrong, baby?” He asks. 

You give a desperate shake of your head. Choking out. “Right. So right, so good. Fuck! Eddie!”

He groans. “Shit, I’m not gonna last. You’re taking me so well.” 

Eddie pounds against you harder, thrusts sloppy right up until he cums, spilling into the condom with his head thrown back, pure ecstasy on his face.

With his finish he collapses on top of you, exhausted, sweaty, and so, so satisfied. 

You reach up from beneath him, running hands through his long hair, not complaining about his weight at all. Even whining when he quickly realizes and moves to roll off of you.

Eddie chuckles, removing the used condom and discarding it in an empty plastic bag under his passenger seat.

Once that’s back where he found it he settles into the pulling you into his arms, both to appease you, and because he needed it.

He kisses the top of your head as he does so, a laugh shaking his body slightly as he pulls you tighter into him. “Holy fuck.”

You giggle, agreeing wholeheartedly. He leans his forehead against yours. “I can’t believe I got you.” Tasting the way it makes you smile as you murmur the same words back to him. 

After more kisses than you can keep track of, Eddie breaks apart from you to ask, “Hey, are you hungry?”

And when you admit you are, the two of you redress, and he takes you to a 24 hour diner a little outside of Hawkins where the two of you gorge yourselves on breakfast food.

You look a bit more like the girl he first fell for, make up long since discarded like it was in the days following him hiding in the boathouse. A light sheen of sweat lingers from what the two of you did in the back of his van, your prom dress is rumpled, and still the smile you offer him - it makes him feel like everything is gonna be alright. 

He can’t take his eyes off you. He tells you as much, and with his adoration comes promises made between the two of you over hash browns and maple syrup. 

Promises of sticking around, of being enough, and of never forgetting - not because things were unforgettable by proximity - but because how could you, when this was the first of so much to be shared, to be experienced…together.

[sleepyshang]

‘ How does it go again ? He who strikes first… ? Ugh, just get on with it ! ‘

I’m Sushang, and I recently joined the Cloud Knights. Talk to me if you have any issues… But I don’t know the Luofu very well either, hehe.

🐟 :: Hello hello !! I decided to make a RP account for my girlie Shushu cause I love her so much and she’s literally me you guys.. This is my first time making a RP account on Tumblr (retired amino RP person over here) so be nice pls :’)

🐟 :: You can call me Lani or Tuna. I’m 6teen and go by he/him, but for this account it can be any pronouns. I like to draw whenever I get enough motivation. If you’re interested, I’m on instagram and TikTok aswell!

🐟 :: Don’t be shy to interact or ask to be mutuals ! Hopefully my responses will be in game accurate. I swear I’m nice, I’m incredibly awkward at first so I apologise if we do manage to have a convo OOC. I’ll also be using this funny fish emoji(🐟) if I was ever OOC, which might be rare, who knows?

🐟 :: Anything I post on here is either official art, screenshots or scenes from the game Honkai star rail. But my account is not officially affiliated with Hoyoverse. If you’re lucky I’d draw Sushang and her day to day life on the Luofu :3

No need to be polite, I can help any— Huh? You’re just here to say hello? You don’t need my help?

BOUNDARIES

:: No shipping, I see Sushang as the not so romantic type. But I wouldn’t mind anyone asking my opinion on ships in character.

:: No nsfw/suggestive comments, I’m a minor. It’s that simple.

:: I draw Sushang or any other character with my Headcanons, which includes giving them some Melanin. So I don’t want anyone complaining to me about it cause idgaf, it’s 2025 cmon now.

:: I know I said no shipping but I’ll say it anyways. PEOPLE WHO SHIPS SUSHANG AND LUOCHA DNI + DNF. I genuinely hate them as a romantic pair and I see them more as siblings, not the Robin and Sunday dynamic. But more of a chaotic kind. I think they’re silly in that context.

:: This isn’t a boundary, but if anyone ships Jingluo please bmf or bmf on my main account teehee :3

(I’ll add more if needed later)

My fighting skills have improved - I should let my mom know!

🐟 :: That should be all for now. Again don’t be shy to interact with me, if anything I’m probably more scared of you. Well whoever reads this. Yeah you. Hopefully it makes you feel any better.

🐟 :: Tuna signing off for now :3

Today was another day of being eager to help! I am very happy with myself. Time to rest!

[likecastle]

OK, this one's for @bus-ghoul, who said, "Robin and Nancy for whatever reason shop at the mall (that somehow didn’t burn down)." Thanks for this prompt! I love a girl-world shopping trip! I didn't wind up setting this at Starcourt, but there is shopping at the mall, so hopefully that works! I also, once again, made this kinda angsty. Whoops! All Feelings! No serious warnings on this one, though.

“Are you sure you girls don’t want me to drive you?” Nancy’s mom asks fretfully.

“Yes, Mom,” Nancy says, not for the first time. Somehow, Nancy’s impending departure for college has activated her mom’s protective streak way more than any of the nightmarish events of the past few years ever have. Nancy figures her going away to college probably feels real to her mom in a way that psychic children and extra-dimensional sinkholes never did.

“We’ll be fine, Mrs. Wheeler,” Robin pipes up, from where she’s standing by the passenger side door, just waiting to get in. “I promise. It’s not even an hour’s drive.”

Nancy’s mom still looks torn, but finally she sighs and takes a twenty dollar bill from her purse. “Why don't you get yourselves a nice lunch while you’re out shopping.”

Over the roof of the car, Nancy sees Robin’s eyes widen. And sure enough, once they’re finally on the road and Robin has finished fiddling with the radio, she says, “What does your mom think we're going to get for lunch? Caviar and champagne at Hotdog on a Stick?”

Nancy shakes her head, as if it’ll help her shake off her mom’s worry. “She just wants us to have a good time,” she says, feeling defensive now, even though she was irritated at her only a few minutes ago.

“I’m pretty sure it’s scientifically impossible to have a good time shopping for twin XL sheets and shower flip-flops.”

“Do you want me to drop you off at home?” Nancy threatens, without much heat. “Because I can still turn around.”

To their mutual surprise, they do actually have a good time. College Mall is doesn’t have quite the same selection as Starcourt did, but it’s also not backed by nefarious Russians. It shouldn’t be fun, shopping with someone who has objectively terrible taste, and who thinks Nancy has awful taste in turn, but it is.

“Seriously, Wheeler?” Robin asks, when Nancy picks up a perfectly nice set of sheets with pale pink roses on them.

“What? What’s wrong with these?”

Robin laughs. “Nothing, if you’re Laura Ashley!”

“Well," she says indignantly, "which ones would you pick?”

Robin gets a devilish look in her eye and leads Nancy across the bedding section, weaving between the displays. “Just look at these beauties!” she says, doing jazz hands in the direction of a set of sheets in an eye-searing geometric pattern, every angle somehow in startling disharmony with the next. Nancy actually feels a little dizzy looking at the fabric, something she hadn’t previously thought was even possible.

“They’re hideous,” Nancy says.

“I know,” Robin says, with barely-restrained glee. She holds the package up for Nancy to take a closer look, which only makes the design worse. “Isn’t it great?! It’s like someone vomited non-Euclidean geometry all over your bed. Imagine if a—if someone brought you back to their dorm and you start making out only to find that under their comforter. Instant hilarity.”

Nancy blinks at the mental image. “I guess it would be sort of a mood killer,” she admits, though her dating history’s been marred by some pretty lamentable bedroom décor, and that never stopped her.

Robin nods sagely. “Good for weeding out the faint of heart.”

“You should get them,” Nancy says firmly, though she doesn’t think the sheets are any less ugly now than she did a minute ago. But they make Robin laugh, and it's nice to see her toothy, sidelong grin.

Robin shrugs, setting the package of sheets back down on the shelf. “I’ll probably just bring some sheets from home,” she says, her voice carefully casual.

Nancy remembers too late Robin bemoaning the fact that her scholarship to IUB doesn’t cover room and board. It hasn’t escaped her notice that Robin’s got one shopping bag to Nancy’s three.

“D’you want to get some frozen custard?” Nancy asks abruptly. “My mom’s treat.”

“Yes, I absolutely do,” Robin says, with such seriousness that Nancy can’t help but laugh.

Nancy can’t help thinking about it, though, as they make their way to the food court and order their frozen custard, Robin shoving the remainder of the twenty dollars into the tip jar out of sympathy. She can’t help thinking how different their college experiences are going to be—Nancy almost a thousand miles away at Emerson, Robin here in Bloomington, not even an hour away from home. Nancy has a merit scholarship, too, but her parents are paying for everything it doesn’t cover without batting an eye, while Robin’s been talking about getting a part-time job on top of her work-study. Nancy’s not even sure when Robin will find time to take someone back to her dorm to make out.

That hasn’t escaped her notice, either, the little pronoun game Robin plays sometimes—when she talks about dating at all. Nancy’s never asked outright, because she’s afraid to shatter the tenuous friendship that’s developed between them since spring break. But between her vehement insistence that she and Steve are just friends and the way she looked at Susan Sarandon in The Hunger that one time they all tried to do movie night, Nancy’s reasonably certain that the someone Robin would be bringing home would be someone a little like Nancy herself. Probably not just like her. Someone cooler, with edgier taste in music. Someone who wouldn’t pick sheets with dainty little rosebuds on them. Someone with red hair, most likely, if Nancy’s not mistaken. But someone—at least in some particulars—not entirely unlike Nancy.

And Nancy doesn’t really know what to do with the way that knowledge sits inside her, the way she thinks about Robin leaning back on her elbows on her dorm room bed and feels a pang of jealousy for the girl who’ll get to push her down on the worn-soft sheets she brought from home. But it’s a moot point, because even if Robin’s interested in girls, it’s not like she’d attracted to girls like Nancy, and even if she were, in a few weeks they’ll be half a continent apart, and Nancy’s tried the long-distance thing and it didn’t work out great the last time, so what’s the point of even entertaining the possibility?

Even so, as she watches Robin sneak her spoon out to steal a taste of Nancy’s yogurt, she does think about it.

[lizard-shifter-noms]

Still Subject to Change Chapter 24 (NEW)

——————————————————————————-

Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i’m sorry.

——————————————————————————

I was actually glad that Norrin was leading the way as I would already have gotten lost in the countless hallways that went who knew where.

How did anyone here even know where to go?

After rounding a corner I could see a big door that was painted white with the medical symbol on it, a snake winded around a staff with a round thing on top, an orb maybe?

I briefly wondered if it was inspired by a magical staff but discarded the thought as soon as I got it, Now was not the time to dwell on such things.

Norrin had already Knocked on the door and someone who I believed to be a nurse opened the door a crack.

“Can I help you?”

Norrin nodded briefly.

“Is Nea here? Or have you seen the ginger boy that was with her?”

The nurse glanced back into the medical wing before looking back at Norrin.

“Nea is here, yes, making a fuss as usual, as for the red headed young man we sent him to go scrub off all of that dirt he was covered in.

We can’t have that much filth in the medical wing so he was sent down the hall to the bathrooms and clean it off”

“Thank you miss, and send Nea our regards for a fast recovery”

The nurse nodded then closed the door again, and I could actually hear a faint cursing coming from somewhere inside.

Yep definitely Nea, she was probably cussing out whatever poor soul was tasked with helping her.

Since the nurse had said that Robin was just down the hallway that’s where we went.

We came to a stop before the last door in the entire corridor that Norrin informed us housed an actually heated bath big enough to fit ten people!

Still, to not be rude he knocked a few times but there was no answer.

He knocked again but there was still no answer, Was he even still there?

He might have left already and gone who knew where.

Pushing past the taller man I knocked on the door myself,

a bit harder than Norrin did.

“Robin? Are you there? Were going to open the door now”

Pushing the door open revealed a lot of steam for one, as well as a bunch of messy shelves that contained a lot of weird smelling stuff that assaulted my nose with a mess of different scents.

There were also a lot of basins laid into the ground with an elevated rim, separated by curtains, some of them emitting the steam that was everywhere in the room and a bunch of water filled buckets strewn about.

Going around one of the strange smelling racks I found Robin sleeping and half lying in one of the warmer basins whose water for whatever reason was completely lilac.

There were also a ton of bubbles everywhere and it smelled strongly of lavender, he’d messed with the stuff on the shelves no doubt.

“Found him, he fell asleep half buried under bubbles”

A blonde head popped up from behind another shelf, and Arthur leaned over to take a look.

He seemed quite amused at the sight before him.

“That’s not too bad of an idea, but i don’t think so much soap is necessary”

Rikaad also appeared from behind Arthur, making him jump a bit.

He glanced at Robin once and then turned back to face us.

“Since we found Robin I am now going to go and take a look at all the papers my predecessors have signed, i’ll rejoin you later”

I was a bit confused that he didn’t even want to get rid of the mud first but then again he’d barely had any on him, somehow.

While he went to do that with Norrin I decided to take a look at the stuff on the shelves.

There were a ton of things I did not recognize, such as various oils and grainy pastes that smelled strongly of a variety of flowers.

There were also a lot of pale, hard bars that smelled strongly of apples.

I picked one up to examine it as I had never seen something like that before, it was a bit slippery and I almost dropped it.

Raising it up to my face I wondered if it was edible, it smelled like it was at least.

Eh, one bite wouldn’t kill me.

Before I could sink my teeth into it however, I heard Arthur call over from the basin he crawled into clothes and all, only his shoes discarded next to the water.

“Don’t fucking eat Soap! What the hell are you doing?”

“This is what soap looks like?”

I stared at the bar again, I had expected soap to have a more soft composition, like fat.

It was made from fat as far as i knew so i really had expected it to be softer than this if not a more liquid form.

“What do you mean that’s what soap looks like??

Have you never seen soap before?”

“No? Remember i was a street rat, and a Bastard one at that, so why the fuck would i ever have had access to this?”

He looked baffled for a second.

“Ah yeah right, sorry, but still don’t eat that!”

“Now that i know its soap why the fuck would i do that?

I’m not keen on getting sick”

His amused face at me trying to eat soap shifted into something else as he looked at his soggy mud covered top.

He threw it off next to his boots without much thought, and I could see the manticore scar again.

“I have to say the mud is even worse than your spit, the mud is way harder to wash out”

I felt my ears heat up, right, I did eat him.

With us being about the same height now that was very easy to forget, And it had been a week or so ago since that happened, and neither of us mentioned it ever since.

At least he didn’t seem to take it badly.

Also I probably should get rid of the mud on me as well.

Taking off my rather run down boots and setting them to the side of the basin.

Climbing into the tub that was next to Arthur’s I also took off my own shirt and tossed next to my boots.

Then I took a moment to look at myself, or more specifically the area where my pouch was.

There was no outward sign of the stab wounds but I could feel them well enough.

The annoying itch was still there and I knew exactly where the stab wounds were so it was kinda freaky to not see any outward sign.

But that was probably a good thing, if there actually was any outwards sign it would be way worse for sure, maybe even deadly.

The only thing I could see was the scar from the time I lost a kidney.

“Hey you forgot your soap! Catch!”

I whipped my head around to Arthur who had pulled me out of my thoughts.

It took me a few seconds to register what he had said but by then he had already thrown the soap.

Since I was not prepared to have anything thrown at me I failed to catch it and it hit me square in the torso.

Or more specifically the area where my pouch was located.

I doubled over in pain and just about managed to not land completely in the water with a strangled whine.

“Oh fuck! Donovan, are you okay?”

Arthur had jumped out of the water after he saw me fall over and then just awkwardly stood there not knowing what to do while I tried to get back up.

“my pouch hurts, you hit it right in the middle”

I wheezed out, holding the area that had been struck.

“Is it still hurting? Are you okay? I’m so fucking sorry!

I didn’t mean to do that!”

“I’m fine gimme a minute, i wanted to ask Oakley for help anyway”

He didn’t look convinced, and neither was I about what I just said, but he didn’t do it on purpose and I wouldn’t hold that against him.

“Wha’s goin on?”

Robin had woken up, likely from Arthur’s loud voice.

Oh dammit, and now he was standing there in a pair of soaking wet pants and absolutely covered in bubbles looking rather concerned at me.

I was still half lying on the floor so I sat up completely if a bit hunched over.

“Im fine don’t worry, Arthur threw soap at me and hit the stitches, but it’s okay just surprised me”

He still looked concerned, well as much as he could with bubbles covering everything but his face.

“Maybe you should go to a doc? Maybe they can at least give something against pain?”

I shook my head.

“No, I mean how the hell would I explain that?

My anatomy differs quite a bit from that of a human, besides I don’t think telling anyone why exactly I have those stitches on the INSIDE would go over well, I’ll ask Oakley later as soon as he’s back, okay?”

He didn’t look too happy about it but said nothing else to the matter, Instead he took a handful of bubbles and threw them at Arthur.

Arthur then retaliated by jumping into the basin and splashing water at Robin.

Since I already felt better than just a moment before, which I blamed the soap for just hitting a nerve, so I decided to grab one of the buckets and splash both of the other young men.

Robin dodged with a squeal and Arthur got the entire brunt of it.

“COLD!”

In response to me throwing water he grabbed a bucket that was filled with soapy bubbles and threw that at me.

Since I was still sitting on the floor I had no way to avoid it and got covered in the lavender smelling liquid.

Pain temporarily forgotten in favor of adrenaline it grew into a full blown water fight in mere minutes.

On the plus side that did get all the mud off, and it was way more fun than just sitting in a bathtub.

It was a wonder nobody else came in while we splashed water absolutely everywhere but I was not complaining.

I never in my life had this much fun before!

After who knew how long we stopped and sat out of breath on the floor.

So that’s what it’s like to have fun with friends.

I realized I never had that before as every parent kept their child away from a bastard like me.

Also the fact I lived on the street probably didn’t make that better at all.

While I sat there the adrenaline slowly wore off and I could feel my pouch hurting again.

I hunched over a bit and tried to disguise it as just being out of breath.

It seemed to have worked as nobody said anything about it.

Robin was making bubbles by cupping his hands weirdly and blowing air into a soapy membrane that formed between his fingers.

They even floated for a bit before slowly falling down to the ground and popping.

Arthur was just poking the floating ones with his finger to make them pop prematurely, and I decided to join in from where I sat.

“Maybe we should leave soon? We made a hell of a mess and i’d rather leave before we get found in the middle of this chaos”

Arthur had a point, it looked as if the entire room had been a flood victim.

I decided to go and dip myself in one of the not-soapy basins to get the oily feeling of and then search for my shirt and boots.

In the heat of the water battle I had forgotten where exactly I put them.

In the end I found them around the corner near Arthur’s shoes.

Grabbing my shirt and wringing out the water that got splashed onto it I shook it out and fumbled for the bottom of it so I could put it on.

Putting my arms over my head proved to be a mistake however.

It hurt, like something had snapped in my pouch and I realized that I must have ripped one of the stitches.

I was proven right when I tasted something metallic at the back of my throat and spat it out.

It was a tiny bit of blood, not much and certainly not enough to be extremely worrisome.

Still, I should better check if Oakley has come back.

And I better not mention this to Arthur and Robin, they would probably blame the water fight for it and feel guilty.

Powering through the throbbing pain I put my shirt back on and poured the water from my boots.

I really needed new ones, These were just a few millimeters from losing their sole.

Washing the blood my body had ejected away with some water I stood up and went back to the other two.

Looking around the corner again I could see Arthur tossing towels onto the floor in front of the door.

Probably a good idea, otherwise the water would leak under the door.

Robin used the only dry towel left to dry his hair, making it stick in all directions from static.

He almost looked like a dark orange thistle.

Still, my pouch fucking hurt and i wanted to see if Oakley finally came back so he could help me.

“Let’s go look if Oakley has come back, the stitches are itching and its so fucking annoying, im sure the winged fucker knows what to do”

At my words Robin tossed the towel next to the ones Arthur had used to stop the water from spreading, and Arthur opened the door which caused some water to pour out regardless of the towels.

“Aww fuck, i hoped that would work, lets just hope nobody complains about it”

To avoid just that we all quickly walked down the halfway again before we came to a split in the corridor.

I looked down both of the halls but couldn’t really make out a difference,

Maybe the other two had remembered where we came from?

“Uh, does anyone remember which way we need to go?”

I was met with incomprehensive stares.

“No, sorry I’m really bad at directions, you Arthur?”

Arthur also shook his head.

“Eh fifty fifty chance to get it right, let’s just go trough one and we’ll find our way somehow”

He randomly chose the left tunnel and me and Robin trailed after him, trying to find anything that was familiar.

There was nothing I recognized, Then again I had not been paying much attention when we came in.

After a bend we could see a ton of doors laid into the walls, yeah this was not the way we came from,

and the windows were gone too.

“Where the hell are we? Maybe we should backtrack?”

I received a bunch of nods at my suggestion and we turned back around.

Only to find that there were two possible ways we could take as there was a fork in the hallway.

“Im sorry, but what the fuck? Who builds a castle like this?”

Arthur complained and I had to silently agree with him, How was anyone supposed to find whatever room they were looking for?

“So which way do we take now?”

None of us knew the answer to Robin’s question.

Though it would help to find a window or something, just to see what side of the building we were on.

“Well i say we should look for a window, maybe we can see where we are that way?”

I really hoped we would find an exit, and that as soon as possible.

I needed to find Oakley, my pouch was hurting like crazy and I did my best not to show any outward signs of it.

Still, I’d like to solve that as quickly as possible as I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this facade up.

Since we went left to get into this hallway we chose the one on the right this time, hoping that this was the one we came from.

Robin was idly looking around.

“I wonder how the people that live here find their way? Do you think they have tiny maps of just the palace to orient themselves?”

I had to smile at the mental image of someone using a tiny map just to get around a building, a big building though.

“I doubt that, they probably are just used to it”

After wandering around aimlessly a little bit longer we came to a dead end.

The place we ended up in was circular with decorative stone benches attached to the walls, and best of all a big window.

Arthur immediately went up to it and stuck his head out, only to get back inside really fast again with a pale face.

“Nope, not that way, lets go search for another exit”

Out of curiosity both me and Robin stuck our faces out the window and looked down.

And even more down until there was only water very far below us.

I could even see some stalagmite like stone pillars poking out of the saltwater.

The ocean, right, the castle was built right on top of a giant cliff.

I pulled my head back in, Arthur was right there was no way out unless we wanted to fall who knew how many meters to our death.

I pulled Robin back inside by the back of his shirt as he was still staring at the waves crashing against stone far below.

“And how do we get out now?”

He asked after I let go of his shirt and put him back on the ground.

Arthur looked down the hallway we had come from.

“Maybe we can find someone and just ask how to get out?

There’s a lot of doors in some of the other hallways, someones bound to be there”

He was right, we had wandered aimlessly around for who knew how long now and clearly didn’t know the way.

And I wanted to get out already, I needed to find Oakley and ask him for help.

So knocking on random doors it was until someone opened that could tell us how to navigate this place.

I really wanted to punch whoever made the design for this place.

After finding the corridor with the ton of doors again, At least I assumed it was the same, We just started knocking on the doors.

It was after about five minutes that someone opened the door we knocked on.

In the doorframe was a soldier, a scruffy looking man that was not wearing his helmet, Nea would probably punch him for that, and behind him were some more soldiers that had apparently played some card game up until now.

Tha man gaze swiveled over us and i noticed he seemed to be slightly inebriated, was he drunk?

His glassy stare came to a stop on my pointy ears and I could see his entire demeanor shift from relaxed to high alert.

Before I could react he drew a dagger from his belt and aimed to stab me, yelling loudly.

“FAELING! INVADER!”

The man raised the blade over his head and let it swoop down, aimed at my face.

Arthur managed to pull me back in time and the dagger hit only air.

“HEY! FUCK OFF, HE’S NOT AN INVADER!”

It did not look like they believed him, and now the other three soldiers that had spied on this one’s cards shot up and also grabbed sharp looking things before standing behind what I now assumed to be their leader.

That was not good.

Apparently not all of the castle’s staff had been informed about what happened and that I was not a foe.

The first soldier now aimed for Arthur who was in a defensive stance.

Suddenly Robin grabbed my arm and tugged me away from the door and I realized what Arthur was doing.

The soldiers couldn’t get out of the room if he was standing in front of the door, he was intentionally putting himself in the way so we could get a head start.

I let Robin lead while Arthur punched the guy that had threatened me right in the face.

I could swear I even heard a crack as his fist collided with the soldier’s nose.

We went around a bend and ran face first into another person, in my adrenaline fueled brain I thought we had run into even more soldiers but as I looked closer I realized that it was the gardener.

He was carrying an empty flower pot with him that he set on the floor after we ran into him and then he looked both of us right in the eyes.

“What are you doing here young lads? Ah i see you’ve found your ginger friend”

Right the last time I saw him I told him I was looking for Robin, but last time I was in Ardua form so how did he know that I was the same person?

My train of thought was interrupted by a shout from behind us, Arthur came running down the hall with a bruise on his cheek.

The soldiers he had pissed off were right behind him though so I tried my best to hide.

There wasn’t anything to hide though so I tried to squeeze myself into one of the wall decorations.

Since it was rather small, that was not effective at all.

Arthur came to a stop next to Robin and held his sore jaw looking confused at the Gardener whose name I didn’t know.

A few seconds later the four soldiers that were pretty intent on cutting my lifespan short also came around the bend and stopped when they saw that we were basically hiding in the wall behind the gardener.

The Gardener did not budge, he had no weapons or anything and while he was buff he stood there relaxed as if nothing was wrong.

This guy had a lot of guts to just calmly stand there while he was being charged at by four angry and armed men.

They stopped right in front of him though.

“Barsen! Get out of the way! You are standing in front of invaders! And a Faeling! Move so we can do our job!”

The Gardener, who was apparently named Barsen, did not budge.

“Your job? I thought these days you just drank and played cards? And i have to inform you, as you clearly missed it,  that these boys are friends of the new king, so i think you should leave before this escalated even more”

He spoke like he was talking about the weather but the soldiers looked horrified at this piece of information, their gaze going over each of us and lingering on Arthur’s bruised jaw and my pointy ears.

“But he’s a fa-”

“He is a friend of the king, and i’m pretty sure that some of the old laws are going to be changed now that there is a new ruler”

He interrupted the stammering soldier firmly but gently.

The Soldiers looked at each other and then turned tail back to the room they had played cards in, and in the distance I could see one of them holding a bleeding nose.

Barsen then turned back to look at us.

“Are you boys alright? Should I bring you to the infirmary?

I’m sure they have something for that bruise on your cheek young man”

That was probably a good idea, the infirmary was at least somewhere we knew and maybe someone we knew would show up.

that and maybe we’d get to talk to Nea if we went with him.

Arthur still held his bruised jaw but nodded and I nervously looked back the way those soldiers had gone, holding on to Robin’s tunic so as to not lose him.

“Yeah, i think that’s a good idea, i don’t want any other people that didn’t get the message to try and stab me”

He nodded and picked the flower pot up again and I noticed that while it was as big as my torso it was not empty, It was filled with a lot of dry dirt.

No wonder he was buff if he carried stuff like that regularly.

PREVIOUS / NEXT / OVERSIGHT

[northern-typist]

father of the bride ~ bbc ghosts ~ part one (of two)

A/N ~ Alright folks, this is just a quick two-parter that I came up with on a long car journey. I’ve taken some liberties with the ‘Rachel Fawcett’ character and melded her into my own version.

button house, may

Rachel Fawcett was many things - a liberal, environmentally cautious, an acute over thinker and a whiz at pub quizzes.

One thing she was not, however, was a coward. No. Fawcett’s were not cowards, they couldn’t be (and wouldn’t,) the notion weaved into their DNA at conception.

But as she indicated up the long, winding drive, her stomach started to swallow her whole. Rain lashing down onto the windscreen. Wind blowing the car about. Bad omen? Maybe so. Button House was the place her father had passed away. She’d been warned against going by almost everyone she spoke to about the matter. Her friends, her mother - especially her mother. She could hear her condemnations now-

"Why in Christ would you want to host your wedding there?"

But Rachel had been adamant, she wanted her wedding day to be special and this was the place it was going to be (luckily her fiancé agreed and that was that.)

Parking the car by the cracked fountain, she gathered her belongings and exited. Instantly, the door swung open, a beaming and slightly nervous Alison Cooper greeted her. Her eyes briefly darting behind her, but straight back to Rachel.

“Hi.” Rachel greeted quietly, “sorry that I’m late, I couldn’t quite find the place and then-“ she motioned to the house, “you know.” Daniel always told her she was incredibly brave, but she doubted that right then.

Alison just shrugged. “Oh, it’s fine. Glad you still were able to make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” she raced to the front door and entered, Alison making way, “finding a place to host a wedding is difficult enough these days, what with the cost of everything, so we’re incredibly grateful.”

“Is he coming?”

It took Rachel a moment, taking off her damp coat and frowning, but then- “Oh, yes, Dan! He’s travelling down from Edinburgh, got some work thing. He’ll be here though; he's dying to check out the house before the big day.”

“Great.” Alison grinned, taking Rachel’s coat and hanging it up. “Make yourself at home, I’ll get the kettle on and find Mike, he should be around here somewhere.”

Leaving Rachel alone, Alison headed off towards the kitchen, closing the door behind her and bracing herself for the oncoming storm, and OH boy, was that storm turning into a hurricane…

~

Alison stirred the teabag and inhaled, the voices around her all drowning into one. Finally, the spoon was placed down, and she turned, addressing her posse of ghosts.

“Alright, one question at a time please.”

Thomas went first. “Who is that beauty? You must introduce us, Alison.”

“Absolutely not, next”

Then it was Kitty. “She’s very familiar, has she been to one of your parties, or maybe a guest.”

“Hopefully she's not one of your God-awful friends. Highly unacceptable people.” Fanny interjected brashly, she had a point.

Alison gritted her teeth, ignoring the slight on her friends and turned towards the remaining three, “Anything from you?”

“Are we allowed to attend the party?” Pat enquired, excited about the prospect of more lovely music and people in the house.

“Of course, Pat, of course.”

Robin grunted happily - that had also been his question, so that left The Captain. He adjusted his swagger stick and stood straighter. “Anything to report about this one? Anything of interest?”

Alison picked up the cups and nodded firmly. “She’s here to host her wedding, that’s all. But wanted to see the place first. She’s staying for a night or two, just whilst her fiancé joins her. He hasn't seen the house yet. Oh- actually, there’s actually something I wanted to speak to Julian about,” she peered around the excited group but couldn’t see the suspect, “where’s Julian?”

~

Rachel felt oddly at home here… and she couldn’t place why. Every furnishing felt like a memory that she’d secretly repressed. Staring at the crackling fire, Rachel picked at her sleeve, unable to fully relax into the plush settee. Regardless of the warmth of the room, a shiver ran down her spine. A brief glance around the room.

Nothing…

Except for the pant-less ghost wavering a few feet behind the blonde newcomer, not that Rachel could see him. Julian didn’t need an introduction, he knew exactly who this was. His blue eyes stared down. Unable to look away. In all his time with the dead, he’d wondered what she would look like now. Sure, Alison had shown him those pages on the computer, the occasional mention on the Radio. He even remembers hearing a brief mention of her on the 6 o’clock News - she had switched parties during a rather difficult voting period, a Red now, not a Green.

This was his daughter, his Rachel.

“There you are!”

Both father and daughter turned to face the door, Alison standing with a bright smile and two cups of tea. Julian met Alison’s eye curiously as she entered, a silent question - ‘when was you going to tell me?’ Alison tried to brush him off with a smile and seated herself on Rachel’s right.

“Here you go.” Alison said softly, handing Rachel the brew. She then motioned for Julian to join them. It was subtle, but he took the invitation gladly, perching on the coffee table.

“Cheers Alison.” Rachel grinned.

Alison and Rachel spent a moment sipping on their beverages, which gave Alison the opportunity to observe the father-daughter duo. There wasn’t much of a difference. The same bold blue eyes, sandy-blonde hair - with a middle parting, Fawcett’s all had them, she remembered Julian once telling her.

“So, how do you like the house?” Alison queried, hopeful.

Rachel took another long sip and smiled softly. “It’s a beautiful house, you and Mike should be very proud of yourselves. I can’t wait for Dan to see it,” another sip, “but lord knows how long that’ll take, that storm doesn’t look like it’s going to stop.”

“Dan? Who’s Dan?”

“We’re trying with it,” Alison said. “We didn’t think we’d be hosting anymore weddings, to be honest—“

“What’s this about a wedding-“

“I’m bloody glad that you still are.” Rachel breathed, “my mother warned against coming here, said that I would bring shame upon the family, upon my party.” Julian held his breath, his wife was correct, as she always had been, yet Rachel persisted, “but I don’t care about all of that, I know you probably know about my father and how he… Well, the circumstances of his death.”

Alison kept one eye on Julian and on Rachel, then nodded. “I’ve been told. Sorry, by the way, I know that was probably hard for you to learn.”

Instead of sadness there was only hints of humour from Rachel. “Don’t be sorry, us Fawcett’s are a different breed, he may be gone and may have been a colossal idiot-“

“But he was your father.”

“He was my dad.”

And in that moment, the two girls knew they had an unspoken With that, the pair continued to drink their tea, falling into small talk about their lives. Julian opened his mouth but found he couldn’t speak. His throat tight, eyes slightly watering. Instead he exited the room, slowly, slightly forlorn. His thoughts still in the warmth of the room as he meandered through the corridors in search of his ghostly friends.

~

The storm had lessened by eight but there was still no sign of Dan, just a text to say that his train would be delayed, no surprises there. Mike ordered a round of Pizza’s, enjoyed by the humans and envied by the ghosts, then the couple sent a tired Rachel to nap, stating that: “they’d wait for Dan.”

Julian hadn’t said much during dinner, the other ghosts had taken note, but waited until Mike had sauntered upstairs to watch the latest episode of Big Brother (it wasn’t really Alison’s thing.) The remaining residents of Button House sat and stood, waiting for Julian to begin talking.

He sensed the group’s questions, so decided to address them. “She’s my daughter.”

“That’s Rachel?” Pat cried with wide eyes.

“That’s Rachel, my Rachel. It appears that she’s having her wedding here.”

Fanny frowned, crossing her arms. “And she’s aware that you died here, like that.” She motioned to his bottom half. Julian nodded silently causing her to just shake her head.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Thomas chimed in from the settee, “Your daughter must not hold a grudge, she must have some semblance of respect for you, but I’m not sure why.”

“Amen.” Fanny supplied.

Alison glanced around the room, stopping at Julian, tentative. “How do you feel about all of this?”

“It’s… Hard. She’s not a pixel on a screen anymore, she’s here.” Julian adjusted a cuff link and sniffled, he wouldn’t cry in front of them. “But Margot seems to have done well, all things considered.”

The Captain made to add to the conversation when a rapturous knock echoed on the front door downstairs. The group shot up, running straight to the windows. They couldn’t see who was there, the rain now pelting the glass harder. Alison rose from her spot by the chess board and raced down, ghosts in hot pursuit, to the front door. The knocking continued. Unlocking it, she swung the door open and stared out at the stranger.

“It’s Dan, right?” Alison gasped.

The stranger turned and lowered the hood of their coat, nodding and bundling inside quickly, glad to be out of the storm.

Dan shook out the rain from his greying hair and smiled at Alison, who was trying to switch on the nearest lamp, “Hi, yes, I’m Dan.”

He stretched out a polite hand and Alison finally got a chance to see his face, but could only gasp at him - the gasp reverberating amongst the ghosts also. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible.

The Captain grasped his swagger-stick, standing frozen alongside Julian, and felt his heart plummet into his stomach, if such a thing could happen to a dead man.

Dan was the spitting image of The Captain, just a few years younger and no moustache.

Cutting through the small silence was light footsteps on the stairs, quickly descending to the front door. Rachel reached the bottom, ghosts jumping out of her way, as she raced into Dan’s slightly damp arms. As the pair embraced - the group stared and stared.

“Good Lord.” The Captain muttered.

Well, this was certainly a new development.

[currentfandomkick]

Edit: HEY tumblr ate half the post. Just noticed so. Here’s the rest.

—

“Nah. She’s one of my best friends back home and gets both sides of the mask. Like Batgirl and Robin are better off as friends than dating—though Cass and Babs have granted me honorary Batgirl Rights a while back. We do spa days and movies nights.”

“And we’re not invited because???”

“Not a batgirl or honorary; as declared by Oracle.”

“And that matters as…” Greta baited while Cissie shook her head.

Tim paused his calculations to turn to his friend. “First Batgirl gets to decide, duh.”

The group erupted at that.

Tim smiled. Just a bit. Baby steps with reveal and all. Hopefully the Ivy alliance overshadowed the ‘ability to hear plant speak and learning to use it.’

He loves them, but its just. A lot of anyone wants to help with his abilities and how to compensate. Telling Virgil most of it had been a pain, and easy enough as he was a teammate but not. Not Just Us, not one of his chosen family members he'd switch sides for.

He still can’t quite articulate how it makes a difference, just, that it does. The degree of separation and long term personal investment and stakes are just. Lower with Virgil than most Titans, let alone Tim's team.

Virgil helps with exposure therapy, sure, and Tim listens to him work through what to do with his family. He’s the emotional support Robin, but this time its mutual.

Its also fun to see how his pitch can affect Static’s control and vice versa. Tim is working on more compensation tactics for long range combat not relying on his weapons.  And Virgil smiles more and ruffles his hair on occasion.

The two did agree that given Dick’s own habit of… hallucinating Jason, it was better to not tell Dick about Jazz and the cause of his narcoleptic tendencies with his insomnia is a red head dream-walker who was his older sister in a prior incarnation.

Too much of a chance Dick would try to steal his sister for his ginger allies and ex’s club, they agreed.

—

Dana raised an eyebrow as a teen that was not her step son came in through the window.

The boy was unfazed by her being there.

“Is Tim here? It took ages to track him down,” the teen complained.

Dana hummed, wondering how to answer the red head around Tim’s age in front of her.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Oh, right. Tim is my Robin." the boy offer his hand. "Anarky. Or Lonnie. I bet you heard a lot about me!”

Dana came to understand Bruce’s adoption habit at the way Lonnie had a clear mask of false bravado.

“Not much, he keeps what happens in his Mask to himself and tells us small anecdotes here and there. He did mention you a few times though.”

She idly wondered how her husband would handle her potentially adopting a former rogue to their semi-retired vigilante son.

“Cool, cool… so he’s not here now?”

“I’ll see when he’s on his way and let him know you’re here.”

“Okay, okay… can I get your WiFi while I wait orrr….”

Dana passed him the sticky-note with the information.

Not even five minutes later Tim rushed in and Lonnie perked up.

“Found you! Now you have to help me!”

“That is not how it—“

Dick Grayson barged in next, looking at her son and potential second son with a wide grin.

“You got you’d. By a rouge.”

Lonnie stuck his tongue out at Dick.

Tim looked up at the ceiling, clearly calling for powers that abandoned Gotham long ago.

Dana did laugh when Lonnie babbled about a plan to take out another corporation dumping into the harbor. Why he hadn't handed that off to Ivy, she didn't know.

She hummed, grabbing a snack for herself and putting on Star Trek. If the boys present were going to talk about things outside of her jurisdiction, that was a problem for them.

Tim shushing them as she picked which iteration, made her smile.

“Uh, is it okay to help with this one?”

“Online or in person?”

“Online! Just the hacking part! No in person vigilantism like we agreed,” Tim threw his hands up in his defense.

Dana texted her husband code yellow-green.

He agreed to be home to discuss the issue of how involved Tim would be with Lonnie’s scheme in an hour. They did know this could happen, given the early signs of a new alias' construction.

Dick had the courtesy to buy them all takeout using one of Bruce’s cards, while laughing at Tim.

It was good to see him being less tense, more relaxed now that things were in the open. And if she finds Lonnie’s situation lacking, they do have a spare guest room. Lonnie would just be required to stick to this ‘hacktivist’ thing rather than bombing buildings once he moved in until after college or trade school.

Doxxing would work just fine, in her opinion. So would reporting their tax fraud to the IRS if what she’s seen Tim try to do to a number of people, given he can’t fight them as Robin or another alias again quite yet in Gotham.

—

Tim feels like he should have seen Bernard and Darla walking in on him and Lonnie mid-hacker fight against Black Mask as a bad thing.

Instead Bernard asked if Tim wanted any more info and Darla just hummed at him until he and Lonnie got what they wanted.

Irrefutable proof that Black Mask is Roman.

Once they got out, Tim kept grinning and Lonnie was cackling beside him.

Tim half wished he could tell Stephanie about it right then and there, but she’s patrolling right now.

He’s also tempted to find the new player in Crime Alley and see what the newbie does with this information. So far his moves have fascinated Tim, and amused his father.

Bernard toyed with Tim’s additional “protected by” pins. Harley and Ivy merged territories. So new pin for both of them. Being Harley’s “duck boy” was more than what he expected. But her actively helping him find a discreet therapist for former vigilantes in Gotham is nice. Stephanie decided to throw her own pin at him a while back, and Oracle nearly branded his stuff with her call sign.

Anarky still has Two Face’s pin, and Bernard is running around with a Penguin one recently. Darla was pin-less, but her necklace made it clear which crime family she was from.

“So. Whose life are you ruining?”

“Exposing Black Mask,” Lonnie damn near crowed. “Now it’s how to release it, and when.”

“Hm, gala party, or when he’s on TV?” Tim mused. The goal is the reveal being done when he can’t run away; pinning him physically until less corrupt authority figures arise… and preventing their intervention.

“Isn’t he visiting Metropolis for Lex’s thing,” Lonnie asked while scrolling through Roman’s calendar events.

Tim hummed. “If we drop this as a tip to Superman…”

“You mean you,” Lonnie clarified. “I’m still on probation. Legally speaking.”

Tim shook his head. “Fine, I’ll go and pass it on to Superman through his inbox and spam him until Roman’s arrest.”

“Excellent!”

“Do we even exist when you two have a project?” Darla asked.

“There are voices, but not helpful ones to the cause,” Lonnie answered.

“I’d be more offended,” Darla glanced at the multitude of computers between them. “But I don’t think I can be here.”

Bernard hummed in agreement, wrapped around a content Tim, high off a case’s major breakthrough.

“So, how big will the shake up in Gotham : underground be?” Bernard asked, eyeing Darla.

“Pretty monumental given Roman’s hands in everything. Power vacuum will suck. Think the Newbie can use it? Guy has been listening to the working girls before profit,” Lonnie muttered. "and good with environmental protections."

“That would mean poking Bat’s latest fixation…" Tim leaned into Bernard's embrace like a cat into a sunbeam. "And probably able to absorb a decent chunk of the areas near the Alley, and hopefully take out more of Mask’s lieutenants. If we can get Oracle in on this, maybe save more victims too.”

Lonnie whooped.

Bernard got that mad look in his eye that reminded Tim his friend joined multiple pain-cults on his own out of boredom.

Darla leaned over to grab at Tim too. “Save the world is over, now it’s mall time. Your mini can come with.”

Lonnie doubled over at that. “Thanks but no. Enjoy your date!”

“We will!” Bernard answered as he and Darla dragged Tim away.

Jack yelled to “wear protection!” While Tim protested his friends calling their hangouts dates lately. Only when it was the three of them however.

He could feel Jazz laughing at him and something about history repeating. Still no idea which history she means, or why it’s so funny.

Bernard and Darla did continue to refer to Kon as his ‘bi-awakening’ and stated they can wait for him to get over the "situation-ship of his life," but are retaining joint-custody of him.

Tim is fairly certain they’re just being supportive, and joking about the legalization of polycules in Gotham… right?

The Aquista family member tailing them did tell Tim not to “break her heart” only for Darla to shoo them off as “oh, he’s processing this is a thing still.”

Bernard did laugh as Tim blinked owlishly at the pair and the guy giving him a… platonic shovel talk? Darla hummed, stating regardless of if the three date romantically or platonically, Tim is Theirs Now, no returns.

Tim did his best not smile at that, and failed miserably as Bernard agreed.

Bernard grinned and dragged him into the middle of one of the growing group hugs the three end up in.

Harley perking up mid-robbery when she spotted Tim passing by and teasing him about his dates with Darla and Bernard, the pair proudly nabbing his hands as “some of us aren’t scared to take them” did confuse him further.

He came home to the Poly Pride flag slapped onto one of his cactus pots. At least it was painted?

Jack reminded Tim about maintaining his group and individual relationships with Darla and Bernard.

—-

Tim showed jack his latest design for a new vigilante ID—the one he wanted to transition into.

Phantom Shriek.

He still had leaps and bounds to go on training with Static. Dick caught them in an exposure therapy session and took to giving Tim stickers.

He later caught Tim and Ivy practicing his scream and plant speak.

Nightwing did not stop hugging him, and said something about his brothers all being alive and different but its okay and kept babbling.

Ivy knocked him out for Tim, and he called Wally to pick up his best friend.

Ivy said she already figured him out a few weeks after their lessons began, and had known about Dick for almost a decade.

Tim did his best not to laugh hysterically. He failed and screamed for a bit.

She helped him minimize the damage.

Wally came in on that and agreed to give Tim “bat berth”.

It reminded him weirdly of Amorpho and his deal back in Amity. Ancients, he missed it like a phantom limb some days.

Finding out that the more danger he’s in, the more abilities he has, had been a Time to work out with data sorting.

Harley helped with triple checking his numbers. And consoled him mid-break down.

—

Tim gave the info to Clark Kent while visiting Metropolis with Dick.

Clark gave him a look before asking Tim if he and Conner had a fight.

When Tim answered Kon had been avoiding him and he didn’t know why, but he was giving his clone boy the space he made clear he wanted.

Clark froze.

Dick adding Tim had a girlfriend and boyfriend too now, so Kon must be jealous of Tim for bagging two partners and showed off pictures Dick got of their “dates.”

Clark must have had some realization as Tim pointed out that “it’s just Bernard being Bernard and Darla going along with it. They’d have to ask me out first, and Bernard is into Darla. And Darla is my friend, not girlfriend, or, the kind you and Kori are Dick.”

“Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that Timmy,” Dick answered while Clark kept an eye on Tim as he wandered off to give Lois more scoops about corrupt multi-billion dollar companies and debate which tactics to destroy them systematically before the rats can jump ship.

—

Luthor invited Tim to the very event that Roman would be exposed at.

Lois grinned at him when she saw him with his Dad vibrating in place while going over a particular artifact's importance to showing signs of civilization, while Dana chimed in with the healed broken bones as better proof.

Tim did side with Dana, but argued settled civilization’s best sign was yeast-y pottery for bread and beer.

Lex brought out Kon during the discussion. Kon who froze when he saw Tim.

Tim waved awkwardly, message well received Kon didn't want to see him, before Cassie ran over with Cissie and the two began interrogating Dana and Tim and Jack in turn.

Kon didn’t approach him the whole time. Which.

He’s had less painful vivisections, if he's any bit honest with himself. The bear trap was easier to deal with.

He doesn’t know why that rejection hurt as much as it did.

Cassie ran off to check up on Kon while Cissie grumbled about cowardice and took to bugging his dad over various ‘hunting projectiles’ used in various areas and their methods. It was as good a distraction as any, his dad's voice soothing something that smarted something awful.

Tim kept his growing glee off his face as the pings went off and the cops poured in. Black Mask was exposed as Roman. In Metropolis. After his local allies had been picked off earlier that week, one by one.

And his arrest and trial are outside of his political connections and strongholds, while Lex is in one of his ‘PR parent’ moods.

The man is cooked.

Cissie looked at Tim, sensing him shedding his attempt to look sane. He put that mask back up quickly.

Tim feigned innocence while Dick barged over to “check” on Tim and Cissie over the shock.

When things settled down, Kon and Cassie returned with Kon freezing at the sight of Tim, who decided to see if the poor houseplant wanted a larger pot. At least the plant would talk to him, and he had chosen to be out as a meta with his parents' help over the last few months.

As Tim Drake, he was going to admit to being capable of speaking ‘plant’ and hearing them since the JJ incident. Which is public knowledge, and trauma induced meta gene activation is well known.

Cassie flipped Kon off and dragged him over the rest of the way, while Kon kept his eyes on Tim’s ‘barely noticeable now’ scars around his mouth. Like those were all that mattered and all Tim was now.

Like the portal accident with Sam and Tucker checking his pulse daily all over again.

“Tim, uh, how you holding up?” Kon tried, obviously not wanting to be around a tainted Tim.

“Okay.” He wouldn't force Kon to talk to him when he clearly doesn’t want to be around him. “I think we’re leaving soon, I should do my goodbyes. Good to see you.”

Cissie shot Tim a look as he escaped.

Kon grabbed his arm. Too tight but Tim is a fast healer. “So. Virgil?”

Tim blinked slowly. that was what Kon wanted to talk about after limitless radio silence? His frustration seeped into his tone. “Helps me with the triggers. And I listen to his.”

Kon almost let go at that. “Oh, oh,” he spoke too softly.

Tim tried to pull back. Kon let him.

“Anyways yeah,” Tim put more distance between them.

“Say hi to your dates for me Timmy!” Cassie yelled as he left and waved her off.

Tim missed the panic in Kon’s face, already turned away.

The rest of the gala did not. Gossip was brewing.

“I’ll send them your love Cassie!” Dana yelled back with too much teeth.

Jack looked between his son, Kon and Dana’s too-knowing look he’d come to trust when it came to emotions.

“How is my son’s life a soap opera. How," he muttered as he herded Tim and Dana to the car.

—

Okay! Let me know if i forgot tags and if you want another part as this is a lot of fun to write.

Pt2 reincarnated Tim gets the Wail aka Phantom Shrike

Part one here

Virgil let Tim in, leaning against the wall as Tim looked about his room, clearly searching for where to start as his head looked everywhere, largely at the walls and floor, but not directly at Virgil.

“So," Tim began as he wrung with his hands awkwardly. "I’m going to guess you noticed the early reflexes thing and flinching when you use your powers or Nightwing lights up his escrima sticks?”

Vigil raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t need to be a detective to see that a mile away.”

Tim took a seat at last, settling the urge to scream as the beanbag chair engulfed him. “So, Dick told you all about the uh, JJ incident, or do i get to explain that?”

Virgil moved back to his desk, moving his project to the side. “Just that it was bad.”

“It was.” Bad enough to revive a former lifetime and activate his meta gene. “Kind of shot him, but not me? He’s still in a coma from it.”

Tim waited for Virgil’s reaction. Virgil merely turned to face Tim again, sitting backwards in his swivel chair with an unusually neutral expression.

“I, uh, always had a thing with electricity before that.”

Tim fiddled with his hands again. Counting taps in twos and threes. Dad mentioned it after his last anger management session as a grounding technique. Tim found it… useful. For other things. Largely subduing shrieks, and kicking his trauma triggers in the nuts—when he was certain it was rude to break out tetris anyways.

“Mom called it ‘soul memory hugs’, and not to look into it when I was a kid.” Tim continued, tapping out one of his favorite songs in a modified version of morse code.

He remembers going to Janet in the middle of the night, asking where the nice red head girl went, and why she was crying when he got shocked in his sleep and everything went green. Janet just soothed his concerns and reminded him that the Talons don't go for society kids, but maybe the little girl lost someone and Tim reminded her of him. That he was not responsible for the girl and to let her come to him on her own terms, but to keep a few back ups prepared "just in case" and had him sleep with salt in hand and an iron bracelet.

“Didn’t stop the flashes of," he still couldn't adequately describe the flickers of his pre-Tim life. Of a realm made of ectoplasm the way theirs was made of carbon. The sentient food, watching people walk off injuries that should have crippled them, or the Fenton Driving Watch for the weather. Tucker's laugh and his varied PDAs, or Sam's smile promising someone pain. Dani's joy when she stabilized and befriended Val. Val's everything. "Of something,” he finished lamely.

It'd all been so difficult to pin down back then, as it was too vague without the rest of his memories giving context. A hand holding his. Someone protecting him, other times being punched in the arm or patted on his shoulder almost in condolence of some sort.

“Usually just a warm feeling that uh, stuck if it was static, no pun intended!”

Virgil shook his head with a smile, leaning into the cushion of the chair. “Sure thing Rob, keep going.”

“But when I started going out as Robin," it began a bit before, when he was gathering more evidence of Bruce as Batman to validate his threat of exposing Bruce's secret identity if that was the only way to the man to stop and get help. The sense of dejavu and the stray thought of 'Wes is rolling in his grave' that he never could explain away…

"As Robin," Tim repeated after a beat of silence. "and got hit anytime? It, it changed." his taps stopped being to any song at all. Mouth pulled to one flat, Tim continued. "Flickers of something," he leaned his head to one side, before moving it to the other as he spoke. "Became more and bits of something else.”

Virgil leaned back minutely, face starting to tinge with pinches of worry. “Do any of the Bats know about that?”

Tim shook his head. “B wasn’t, uh,” Tim fiddled with his hands more, not taps or morse code. More hand wringing and flexing phalanges. “In any state to even recognize I wasn’t Robin the Second when I started,” he confessed.

Virgil seemed frozen, like he was mentally recoiling as he moved from his chair to perch on his bed to see Tim and be closer to him for some reason. And now far more attentive than the earlier lull.

Tim shrugged off his concern, as it wasn't like anybody was unaware of how badly Bruce took losing Jason, or how badly Batman took flying solo. People are excellent at ignoring inconveniences to them. and a compromised bad was inconvenient to the GEL.

“No one noticed in the field as Robin was still who he called. My job was to deescalate him, not the other way around.”

Virgil pinched his brow. “So your mentor was violent, and you mentored him rather than mentoring you.”

“Yeah, for most of the three years I pieced him back together. He had me go through the ringer and work under a lot of mentors for combat. Some villains too.”

Tim briefly wondered if Lady Shiva’s offer would extend to helping him take out Joker… And if he could live with himself if he did. Joker killed Jason and was a contributing reason to his parents' hesitation to letting him take up a mantel again in Gotham.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, trying to push that thought aside and the relief of it out of his mind. “Didn’t really tell B things until it was mandatory or necessary. And I wasn’t Robin like Dick and Jay were. I wasn’t and won’t be his son. Just the kid pulling his ass out of his own head and enforcing his old code on his ass. With whatever weapon I need to keep others safe.”

“Hey, Rob?" Virgil interrupted. "You do realize what that sounds like out loud, right?” Virgil's form radiated tension.

Tim could only give a strained smile in return. “Dad and Step Mom lectured me on it and not sacrificing myself for someone that can’t even see me, not the people they wish I was.”

Virgil shook his head as he leaned back. “No wonder you’re off patrol in Gotham.”

Tim let out a long exhale through his nose. “Yeah. Dad sort of wasn’t around until after Mom died, and uh, fixed his priorities.”

“Deathlike do it,” Virgil muttered to himself bitterly.

Tim tactfully ignored that as he knew it was something for Virgil to reveal to his family (not being dead) not Tim’s brand of meddling.

“So uh, Dad always knew about the memory hugs, and more recently the uh, flickers? I've been calling the longer and more detailed memory hugs that. A lot of people get flickers of previous lives and shit, so no need to tell Bats when he frankly couldn’t tell ass, elbow and knees apart.”

Virgil whistled long and low. “Cool, cool… so what does that have to do with the Joker Incident and the extra sensory shit you’ve clearly got going on.”

Tim took a deep breath. “Joker uh, used electric shock repeatedly as a way to torture me. Tried to re-write my memories to be his kid, not B's."

Virgil froze.

“Which is ridiculous. If anything, B was my kid." Tim curled his toes as the memories tried to creep back in. He wished that etiquette allowed him to play tetris right now—to distract him from the phantom sensations.

"Same thing happened in the last life and it," he struggled how to articulate the change of impressions and images to the meshing of time and emotional intermingling. "It stopped being flickers."

He bite his inner cheek and could feel the barely noticeable mouth scars pinking as he bit down. All while Virgil's eyes watched his every move. "More, more like flashbacks, I guess. A lot of time being tied down with an asshole demanding I kill my dad and join him as his evil apprentice. Sometimes it was bleeding memories and superimposed images of people I knew then onto people I know now. And it uh, kicked my meta-gene into activating.”

Virgil finally moved, visibly tabling most of what he said. The tension in his own shoulders dropped when he realized he wouldn't have to go back to that horrid laughing place in his mind . “What kinds of activating, and how’d they emerge?”

“A few my step mom clocked—I could hear better and had a larger pitch range that my voice cracking couldn’t hide. Mostly on their own but the uh, scream one is uh, a work in progress on emerging still.”

“So you can hear people coming from further away?” Virgil surmised.

“Not exactly. Its uh, complicated<" Tim let his shoulders and hands do the talking again. "A local eco-terrorist and meta is helping me with where it overlaps on her turf. Apparently plants can hear a lot more than we thought and have opinions on my singing skills. Mainly, that they suck.”

Virgil took a deep breath and looked up. Tim waited for him to give the okay to keep going.

Virgil waved him on once he was done pleading to the ceiling for something to make this more bearable.

“So uh, Ivy is teaching me how to understand plant languages, in exchange for beach cleanups and something I already planned to and had in the works.”

“A rogue is teaching you about your powers, and the adult who you were monitoring in hindsight has no clue.” Virgil rubbed his face before looking up. “And Dick, he looped in?”

“Not yet, I uh, want to know more before becoming a pet project for the extended Bats, you know?”

Virgil conceded that much.

“And its only one aspect the rogue knows! She helps a lot of metas hide their abilities and teaches them how to cope and work with it on their terms. B knows about her doing that and doesn’t interfere with that part of her work. Everyone knows about her doing it.”

“But not regarding you?”

“Its," Tim scrambled to find the right word. "Its complicated.”

“A lot of things with Bats are.”

“Look," Tim held his hands up in surrender. "My dad will go down for attempted murder, if not murder one, if B is around me anymore. I don’t know what they said, but Dad found out about Robin a few weeks after I escaped the JJ incident…”

Virgil paused, face loosening as something clicked. Shoulders slack, he muttered, “you almost died, didn’t you?”

Tim bit his inner cheeks and scars, tapping a littler harder than before. “Legally dead a few times during it, and uh, got to relive the times I died in my last life.”

“How Bad?”

Tim could feel Maddie cutting into him, could see her comparing his insides to Ember’s.

“Mad scientist parents found out I stopped being fully human. It, it was, it was bad.”

“Shit.”

Tim swallowed dryly. “Yeah. Uh, I was hoping, no pressure or obligation, if you’d be okay helping with exposure therapy with electricity. Yours doesn’t sound the same as, as,” Tim felt that urge to scream grow in his throat. He clamped his hands over his mouth and used that trick from Fear Toxin.

“Tim?!”Virgil stood up.

5 things he could touch. His mouth, shoes, ground under his feet, the chair he was sitting on, his clothes.

4 things he can see. Virgil, door, poster, desk.

3 things he can hear. His breathing (too quick), Virgil’s static field, hum from the lights.

2 things he can smell. Stress and BO.

1 thing he can taste. His teeth.

Tim dropped his hands as his throat loosened to safe speaking levels as he repeated the steps. “Sorry, just uh, some stress requires screaming now and it, its not safe to be in the blast radius.” Tim ran a hand over his face. “Learning pitch control still and the screams tend to uh, level things. Missions are fine, the, the flashbacks…”

Virgil nodded slowly. “Not far off from Canary then. Talking about JJ triggers it?”

Tim nodded with a hard swallow. “Talking about the, the memories from the life where my parents uh, killed me and the dying by them after half dying from fixing an invention of theirs and having multi-dimensional portal kill and revive me simultaneously multiple times does it too.”

Static opened and shut his mouth. “Flashbacks frequent?”

“Yeah, kinda. Telling my body we’re not being strapped down and vivisected is uh, not something it likes to believe. And survival first, questions later. Fear gas is so much easier to handle,” he complained.

Virgil nodded slower this time. Tim knew it was a lot to take in.

“So, a Canary Cry?” Virgil began once the silence began to stretch to uncomfortable.

“Kind of?” Tim read her file enough before just in case, and he had clear add-ons she didn’t have. “Enhanced hearing too, but I can use infra sound and hear it if I tune into it. Also can hear the weather more than usual.”

“More than—you could hear the weather before?” Virgil stared at him.

“Assumed it was the autism,” Tim dismissed. “Could be both now.”

Virgil shook his head, possibly grumbling about 'white boys' under his breath. “Any other metas in the family?”

“Not that are still around. Dad’s cousin had a similar voice ability,” Tim talked around the issue of Black Canary Senior being his disowned cousin. “But never met her. Fled long before I was born on Dad’s side. Mom’s is a mystery in general unless you ask for someone specific about a specific event or topic.”

Virgil shook his head. “Okay, but are you sure nothing else has gone on, anything unusual?”

“Not that I can think of off the top of my head. Broke down Batman’s resistance to me being Robin using what Mom taught me about destroying my enemy’s mental fortitude, so… I don’t think so.”

“Think on it. And I can help with the exposure therapy thing if you want, but getting any help for all of this besides me?”

“Step mom, Dad, and Ivy. Robin’s supportive but doesn’t know any specifics… I think. She caught me during training on a surveillance mission, only knows some powers. Dad, step mom and me are the only ones that know about all of them.”

Virgil sighed. “Bats can’t know?”

“Not if we want my dad to stay out jail.”

Virgil looked up at his ceiling. “Planning to your tell your friends?”

“…When I have a better idea of how to control the screaming part. They were already convinced I’ve been meta since we met.”

“Might have been.”

Oh, Tim had not thought that part through.

“…maybe? I’ll have to work that out at home… and thanks. I mean it.”

“No problem man, just try not to mix me with anyone you knew last life, or not too bad.”

“You’re safe. More worried about mixing current friends with my dead ones.”

Virgil shooed Tim out.

Tim relaxed, just a touch, before going back to cases in the commons and catching Stephanie up on Titans BS with everyone chiming in.

It was good to be home.

—

Tim knows, logically, he can tell his team about being murdered by his parents in his last life. He also remembers meeting Greta and knowing she wasn’t truly Dead, which is something he can’t explain fully still…

Virgil might have had a point about being some sort of meta (or maybe magic?) long before the JJ incident. Most kids can’t evade Batman and Robin for years just to take pictures of them mid-flight.

Maybe a sound nullification ability or something to that effect… he can bribe Ivy to help experiment with it later.

The problem is he doubts Kon wouldn’t lead the charge with his dad to summon and beat up said former filicidal parents. And he knows that the whole team would be on board if they knew.

He would rather not see Maddie or Jack again. Especially while awake. Jazz showing up a bit different in his dreams and complaining about his broken sleep schedule making it harder to visit was something he remained on the fence about telling anyone.

Possibly harass Captain Marvel about it as that guy said nothing about people’s shit unless it becomes a game of which plane of existence you can stay on… but even then, tracking him down without bat-tech is a game of whackamole.

There’s also the complication of Tim being very aware he likes Kon, and not necessarily as a friend alone. Which. He doesn’t have time for the additional sexuality crisis on top of his varied identity crises at the moment and the media’s questions about the two Robins and if Robin was gender fluid, flux or only out as a girl in Gotham and a young man elsewhere. He cannot add ‘crushing on a teammate’ to his list when he and Stephanie only broke up a week before the JJ incident and are just now easing back into their old friendship. He doesn’t want the amputated feeling of losing a friend again because he keeps catching feelings for them, and is 10,000% certain he should not touch romance until he’s in a better mental state.

He has Problems on his plate, and it’s already overflowing. He’d rather not break.

And he loves his friends. But he has no doubt that Cassie would set up the pitchforks rather than stop any of the retribution his father was undoubtedly planning. He can’t gift-wrap his friends as minions in his dad’s crusade to fuck over the Fentons across dimensions, spacetime and afterlife status.

He did manage to make a small list of oddities for himself about his capacity to do things that were vaguely ghostly or similar to powers he’d pieced together.

So far potential intangibility or density shifting, invisibility, faster recovery rate than non-metas yet slow for a meta—speed seems dependent on how likely the injury is to kill him. His high tolerance for the cold was making sense the further in Winter he got and the more he’d see flickers of Frostbite training him in his last life.

Whatever an ‘ice core’ is, seems cool. He may have taken to playing with discarded freeze guns and be reworking them to be smaller and more compact. Possibly to add to his future vigilante ID, or to be a general weapon as a civilian given non-lethal status and his ability to add a melting rate adjustment knob of some sort, and call 911.

Bart saw him with it, grinned manically, and joined in helping him improve and adjust it. Slobo joined them both.

Cassie took one look at them and declared it ‘not her problem if they freeze themselves’ while Kon was out on another press tour thing.

Tim pretended not to note those had increased lately only on days Tim was staying with Just Us for non-mission things and Kon’s increase in excuses to avoid him in general.

If Kon wanted distance, then he’d get it. Even if it stung. Kon’s time and his life to spend as he pleases. And clearly, Tim displeases him. /worthless. Monster. Failure. Stand-in. No wonder you’ve always been a loser—/

“So, for Robin time or outside the mask?” Greta asked when she caught the three near the end of a schematics debate.

“Not sure yet,” Tim admitted. “Rogues are weirdly chill with me in civvies lately. But that could be Ivy being Ivy.”

Bart and Slobo’s debate died at that. “Ivy?”

“Uh, Poison Ivy’s plants outted civilian me for something i was dealing with. She’s decided she’s helping with fine-tuning my control on it and gave me one of her ‘protected by’ pins.”

Greta hummed, floating nearer while Bart was buzzing in his place.

“and its a good thing?”

“Other than her shipping me and my ex? Parents approve of the additional support and it’s made intel gathering easier. She was right about the hearing range increase being a bitch to deal with daily.”

Cassie came in with their takeout then, and everyone dispelled to their usual nonsense.

“So, Ivy ships you and your ex?” Greta began with innocently enough.

Tim debated banging his head against the table.

“My civvie self and Gotham’s Robin,” he clarified. “And only enough to throw cuddle pollen on her and lock us together in… varied situations. And laugh about it.”

Cassie blinked at him slowly. “You are being teased by a Rogue who ships civilian you, with a vigilante.”

“… to be fair I am getting plant speak lessons, but yeah.”

“Rob, what the fuck,” Cassie shook her head.

Tim shrugged. “Its Ivy. A safe distraction for the minors she fights is her preferred MO. if it’s just Bats she can and will use sex pollen. If kids or unclear on minor status are involved, cuddle pollen galore.”

“Uh huh.” Cassie and Greta share a look. “So you dated girl Robin, before she became Robin?”

“She was Spoiler first, and I gave her tips on managing Bruce’s ass when I uh,” Tim still didn’t know how to explain ‘forcibly removed from vigilante activities as his dad worried about him dying in a cape like the last Robin, so Tim was forced to pass the buck of Bruce’s mental instability onto his ex-girlfriend and close friend, Spoiler, and coaches her in Bruce Wrangling at a distance’.

“Forced semi-retirement?” Cissie suggested as she stole a slice of pizza, cringing at Tim’s. Which was all his as Bart didn’t care for it. Sucker’s bet on keeping their slices safe from speedster snatching. Amateurs; clearly they never went to boarding school.

“That,” Tim took a bite of his Canadian bacon and pineapple goodness. “And also she’s officially Oracle’s Robin," he swallowed. "Just B’s for combat scenarios. Dad has decided to threaten B’s living status for her too.”

“Rob,” Slobo interrupted. “The fuck.”

“…in my defense, she asked me out a week after almost killing me the first time.”

“Your dad, not other Robin!”

“First time?!”

“She prefers bricks as her projectiles.” Tim wiped his hands clean after his first slice, humming as he went over the blueprint… how should he compensate for his screams and Wail?

“Oh, and she aimed at my head. She’s into three section staffs lately which is a lot less deadly.”

“Rob. She asked you out after almost killing you?” Bart clarified.

“… not on purpose but yeah.”

“She asked you out by accident?”

“No, almost killing part. She’s gotten better aim since, and is following the no killing until you’re not a bat-affiliate rule.”

His team shared looks he didn't bother to check. The urge to analyze could spiral into another screaming attack if he didn't nip it in the bud.

“So not getting back together with her?” Greta clarified with a smile that screamed Gossip Detected.

He let her have either way, even with the looks Cissie, Bart, and Cassie shared.

———-

Let me know if i missed any tags ^^

[wolfjackle-creates]

WIP Wednesday

So I'll be sharing a snippet from a different fic today! If I share anymore of Bring Me Home, I may as well just post the entire first chapter. (Which, I will be looking for a new job and hopefully moving in 2 months or so, so I'll probably try and start posting after that. Get another chapter or two written in the meantime.)

This fic is also from a prompt that was submitted by @regonold to @stealingyourbones. I did part of a collab fill previously, but the idea has been living in my mind rent free and I couldn't help but want to take it on more fully. I've written 5.5k and this snippet is just under 900 words.

----------

The formal gardens beyond the iron gate filled Danny with dread. Vlad’s mansion had looked like this, too. But Jazz had promised him, over and over again, that the Waynes were nothing like the Fruit Loop while begging him to come. Besides, he’d spent weeks making sure his schedule was clear and making deals to prevent any interruptions. No backing out now. With a sigh, he pressed the button for the intercom.

“Good evening, may I ask your business?” asked a man with a British accent.

“Um, yeah. Good evening.” Why was it so much harder to communicate with other people as human Danny than ghost Phantom? “Um, I’m Danny. Jazz’s brother?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. We’ve been expecting you. Follow the drive up to the house and welcome.”

Motors activated and the gates slowly opened. Danny started the trek up the long driveway. His anxiety wasn’t relived when he saw the manor with it’s dark stone facade and literal tower. If it was made of lighter stones, it could have been a copy of Vlad’s castle.

“This is for Jazz,” he muttered under his breath as he walked up the stairs. Before he could knock on the doors, they opened and Jazz ran out to hug him.

“Danny! Thank you so much for coming! How’ve you been? I know you’re busy, but you need to call me more often.”

Danny hugged her back tightly. “Sorry, Jazz. You know how I lose track of time. So where’s this famous Jason?”

A man stepped forward and started speaking, but hanging off his back was a ghost. The ghost of the dead Robin, to be exact. Shit.

At least the position of the ghost meant he appeared to be looking at probably-Jason. Even if he didn’t hear a word the man said. To make it worse, Robin realized he could see him and was sending out help-me trills.

Danny had to bite hard on his tongue to keep from vocalizing his own comforting chirps.

He was so focused on Robin that he almost didn’t notice probably-Jason holding out his hand to shake. Laughing self-consciously, he took it. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

The other man hesitated a moment and asked, “Is everything all right?”

But all Danny could focus on was Robin hanging off Jason’s shoulders and sending out happy-sad-helpless feelings. Danny relaxed the hold he had on his ghost self and tried to sense what was going on. But he had to reassure the human, too. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But wow, was Jason not. Where had he come into contact with such weird ectoplasm? It seemed to twist every emotion into anger and fear and violence.

Even worse was Robin. He was barely perceptible even to Danny’s enhanced senses.

Of course, Jazz was liminal enough to realize he was doing something. Quietly, she chirped a question.

Danny just shook his head and pulled back his power. “Later,” he murmured.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said back, just as quietly.

Louder, Danny said, “Sorry. I just have bad memories about large manors like this. Has Jazz told you about Vlad?”

“He’s come up a time or two. With the black hair and blue eyes, someone will probably make an adoption joke at you before the night is over. But I’ll stab them if they do.”

Danny's laugh would have been much less forced had he not just felt the twisted anger inside probably-Jason. “Just don’t hit anything vital,” he said, hoping it sounded like a joke.

Robin rolled his eyes—and how could he do that so obviously with a mask on?—and tried to pull on Jason to lead him inside.

“Well, it might be summer, but Gotham is never warm. Come on in and I’ll introduce you to everyone,” said Jason.

Jazz grabbed his hand as they made their way inside where they were greeted warmly by an elderly gentleman.

“You must be Mr. Danny. Welcome to the Manor. I’m Alfred. Dinner will be served in one hour and please let me know if you need anything. Your sister stated you didn’t have any dietary restrictions?”

“What’s that?” Danny was trying not to stare at Robin who was now hugging the older man. Before Alfred could repeat himself, however, Danny’s brain caught up to the human conversation. “Oh, uh, no. I don’t. Jazz is right.”

“Very good. Can I take your coat and bag?”

Danny did shrug off his backpack, but only so he could also take off his coat. “Can I keep the bag? I don’t feel comfortable without it on me.”

“Very well.” Alfred hung the coat up on a rack right next to the door. “Master Jason, be sure to show him where the bathroom is on your way to join the others. Mr. Danny, there are plenty of drinks in the sitting room where everyone is relaxing should you need a refreshment.” And he finally had confirmation that this was Jason!

“’Course I will, Alfie.”

“Thanks,” said Danny, though he was more focused on the desperate chirps Robin was sending out.

I’m here-notice me-I love you.

Looks like he was breaking his promise to Jazz to not do any ghostly business tonight. Of course Jazz’s boyfriend would be haunted by a ghost that needed help. Why was he even surprised?

---------

As far as I know, there hasn't been a lot of requests for a tag list on this one. @addie-lover-of-stories is the only one I noticed. But let me know and I'll start one!

Next Part

[pedgito]

Could you do a love triangle between reader, Steve and Eddie? Like she can't decide who she's more attracted too and spin the bottle goes south really quick. Because they're jealous when someone dares the reader to kiss the other or someone else.

author's note: uh, yeah...i got carried away. this took on a life of it's own. i also got halfway through and tumblr deleted it and i had retype all of it, so if it seems a little disjointed, i'm sorry. hopefully it isn't too noticeable

cw: 18+ (to be safe), background!ronance, lots of making out and some suggestive touching, but nothing too crazy. there's not any interaction outside of the reader between steve & eddie, other than talking, ect, but i tried leaving the ending a little ambiguous for a reason :p

word count: 3.6k

You weren’t entirely too sure how you ended up in this situation—scratch that—you were definitely aware of how, but why was the real issue. A small group of teenagers huddled around a fire during of those infamous senior year parties, drinking until you couldn’t see straight and making far too many irrational decisions—which is the how on you ending up here, staring directly at the two boys you couldn’t stop thinking about, sans the few other kids who didn’t really matter—not to you, anyways. You hadn’t spoke to half these kids the entire school year, but spin the bottle was harmless, practically child’s play. What was the worst thing that could happen?

“So, how are we doing this?” Steve asks after a long silence. Everyone shares a glance around the circle, not a single word spoken. “Come on, at least one of you has to have some idea of how to play.”

You sigh, taking the bait. “Let’s do—spinner chooses the person to kiss for whoever it lands on. Fair enough?” There’s a collective shrug from everyone in response. “Great—I’ll go first.” No one argues against it.

It lands on Nancy first, who takes a small sip of her beer—liquid courage, maybe? Though, she already looked like she been through a few by the slight flush in her face. You glance over at your quirky, fast talking friend and an idea strikes you.

“Robin.” You grin, staring Nancy down. Part of you expects Nancy to back out, but she crosses the path to Robin, who sitting beside you. It’s a quick kiss—close mouthed and simple. Nancy offered a comforting smile to her friend before turning on her heels and returning to her seat—and if it weren’t for the four beers Robin had consumed in the time you had been here, she’d be shaking in her converse after being kissed—and by Nancy Wheeler, of all people. You nudge her shoulder comfortingly, watching the blush creep up her neck toward her face. “Alright, who’s next?” Robin asks, desperately hoping to avert the attention away from her.

A young blonde girl who’s name you couldn’t remember spun the bottle, landing on Jason, and to no surprise—she picked herself. You’ve never been more happy that Chrissy wasn’t much of a partier, she didn’t deserve this—Jason really didn’t deserve her. You couldn’t be bothered to watch, eyes averting to Eddie who was just as equally uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem like it was for the same reason. He rarely ever took part in group stuff or socialized outside of his D&D club—but he had you, Nancy, Robin, and Steve to thank for finally helping him branch out—even if it was against his own will most of the time.

Jason took the next turn, spinning the bottle. It spun and spun, lasting for what felt like hours until it stopped on you. You looked at Jason, bracing for whatever stupid choice he was about to.

“Harrington.” He says smugly, smirk covering his annoying face. “You get to kiss Harrington.”

Steve eyes you wearily, immediately feeling uncomfortable with all eyes on him. Luckily, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Had he been the Steve of two years ago, he would’ve had no shame, kissing you square on the mouth in front of the entire school if he needed to, just to prove a point. But this Steve, he was hesitant. You had been through a lot, together and apart.

“Lucky me.” You joke, flashing a sweet smile in Steve’s direction. You chug the rest of the beer, throwing the bottle off toward the other growing pile of empty bottles. You contemplate whether a simple kiss was enough, but the way Jason was staring you down—you just had to stick it to him, shove it right in his face.

Steve’s leg spread slightly as you moved forward, allowing you the space you needed to take a careful seat on his leg, one arm hung loosely around his back. “You can hate me later.” You whisper, hand coming up to cradle the side of his face before leaning in, pressing you lips against his own with all the confidence in the world.

You really don’t expect the pressure the Steve returns, parting your lips slightly. But, he seems to catch on to why you were putting on such a show—he would play along either way. And even if you did have the teensiest of crushes on Steve, you would never find the courage to act on it alone. Steve spent all of his time talking about girls that there was no reason for you to be anywhere on his radar. He sighs quietly, bring you in closer, hand gripping onto your waist gently.

Jason clears his throat awkwardly, “If you two want to get a room that’s fine.” Of course the jerk couldn’t take what he wanted to dish out. You pull away slowly, eyes immediately connecting with his.

“Sorry. Who’s next?” You ask simply, standing to smooth out your shirt where it had ridden up from Steve’s hand. “Robin?”

“Me?” She asks, voice shaken. Robin was always so inherently nervous, but it was part of her charm. "I, uh--Okay."

You could hear a pin drop as soon as it landed on Eddie, the entire group snapping their attention in his direction. He was fiddling with the neck of the bottle, not realizing everyone was staring at him until Steve nudges him.

He laughs lightly, not even the slightest bit uncomfortable. You would never understand how easily he brushed everything off. "Choose wisely, Robin." He teases, pointing a tantalizing finger her direction. Robin forces a laugh, eyes wandering around the group slowly, categorizing every person.

Not Jason, not Nancy, not to mention all the other kids who were vehemently making an effort to avoid Robin's gaze. She stops on Steve for half a second, considering--before she snaps to you. She mumbles a sheepish, "Sorry--I love you, please don't hate me."

But, there wasn't any reason to hate her. It was a game--a silly, stupid little game, right? You shrug, throwing your arms up in the air. "Rules are rules." You assure her, "Pucker up, Munson."

Much similar to your approach to Steve, Eddie widens his legs. But, he's perched higher, allowing his head to be level with you while he sat. "It's an honor, sweetheart." His voice dripping with honey, warm and entirely too welcoming--and now you really can't ignore the shiver that runs down your spine. It wasn't the alcohol this time, not even in the slightest.

He yanks you toward him gently, fingers carding their way through the hair at nape of your neck, pulling you in for a slow, searing kiss. You yelp quietly at the action, caught off guard by the way Eddie manhandled you into place--not that you were complaining.

The kiss quickly turns into something else, a mess of tongues and not much else. It was probably time to cut off the alcohol. Robin whistles loudly from behind you, the rest of the teenagers joining in quickly, pulling you both out of whatever trance you had both entered. You quickly stepped back from Eddie, pointedly avoiding his eyes--unfortunately, locking right onto Steve's. Except he's not looking back, he's staring directly at Eddie. And it's then, in the midst of all your drunkenness, that your existential crisis hits you.

Steve was jealous and Eddie wanted to make Steve jealous. It had worked perfectly, assuming by the look on Steve's face. But, what doesn't make sense, is why Steve couldn't bare to look at you now. Eddie coughs softly, causing you to separate further. "Sorry, sweetheart. Kinda got ahead of myself." You wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but it couldn't have been more obvious--the problem was literally staring you directly in the face.

They were both jealous. They couldn't even share a glance with each other anymore, after an entire night of pointless chatting, it was like they couldn't be on further points of the universe, all over a harmless game.

"Well, I think that's enough for one night." Nancy finally says, breaking the tension that had been created between the three of you. "Robin?" She asks, making an effort to hope she would catch on.

"Yep!" She claps, standing up from her spot and immediately snatching Nancy away from the group. "God, please fill me in on whatever is going on with those two." Robin whispers into your ear before she finally flees, following Nancy toward the drink table, against her better judgement.

.ೃ࿐

After a few minutes of silence and stolen glances between each other, no one speaks. You sigh loudly, hands thrown out to your side. "I'm not dealing with you two. I'm not--I'm just gonna go find somewhere to sober up." You weren't sure what had brought out the behavior from Steve--well, Eddie had--but, you hadn't done a single thing to him. And Eddie, he couldn't even be bothered to look Steve's way.

You turn, stomping off into the deep brush of forest, desperate to escape the chaos of the party and calm your nerves. "Wait!" You hear Steve call out, but you don't stop. To no one's surprise, Steve trails closely behind--a quiet Eddie sticking behind, staring at the dirty, scuffed white sneakers he wore.

"Wait, please," Steve's voice is softer this time, but louder, void of all the loud music and chatter. He's staring at you with his soft, brown eyes--the type of look that would make any girl melt. But not you, not now, "stuff got weird back there, I'm sorry."

"Stuff got weird? Is that the excuse you're using?" You ask, entirely unconvinced by what he was telling you. "So, you staring down Eddie like you wanted to murder him isn't important? I shouldn't be worried about that?"

Steve looks away, jaw clenching. "I didn't think it would feel weird. But, I couldn't help it." He replies lamely, still not looking your way.

"Couldn't help what?" You ask, arms crossing over your chest, "Acting like a complete douche? It was a game, Steve." But, you were far past the point of it just being a game--you knew it was more to Steve, maybe not before, but definitely now.

"Just a game? So when you had your tongue shoved down Eddie's throat, that was just a game?" Steve turns toward you, eyes narrowing. You set yourself, brows furrowing in anger.

"So, you are jealous." Steve shakes his head in frustration, back turned toward you. "You're jealous that I kissed Eddie? Steve, I kissed you too, how does that make any sense?" He didn't even have the courage to look at you now, even after being so confrontational. "Steve, seriously?"

"Fuck this." He snaps, turning on his heels and stalking toward you, legs hitting the back of the worn out picnic table, sending you stumbling back, arm extended out in an effort to catch yourself, but Steve's hands are around you before you can even think, pulling you into him.

You hesitate for a split second, seeing his eyes scan over the expanse of your face, silently checking if you were okay--you were furious, but you couldn't help but want to lean in further, the tingle of alcohol filling your body. You sigh into Steve's mouth the moment it touches yours, immediately wrapping your arms around the expanse of his neck, allowing his hands to slip under your thighs and force you to be fully seated on the table now, wrapping your legs around his hips.

His tongue traces a line against your top lip, idle hand squeezing at the soft flesh of your waist, before delving into your mouth like he was a man dying of thirst, ready to bleed you dry. You fight back, lips pressing against his in an effort to gain an upper hand, fingers gently pulling at his hair. Steve moans outwardly, a filthy laugh slipping from his lips at the effort you were giving. "I guess I had a reason to be jealous, yeah?" He asks teasingly, his voice low and soft, only for your ears.

"Shut up." You bite back, pulling him back in for another kiss, leaving you practically breathless.

"Well, seems you two had a couple issues to work through." A voice bleeds through the trees, the familiar crackle of leaves coming closer and closer until..."Didn't think you had it in you, Harrington."

"Eddie." It's a warning. He knows it.

Eddie throws his hands up in defeat before resting them behind his back, slowly stepping closer. Steve was still pressed between your legs, but both of you were glued on Eddie and that stupid smirk he had.

"Don't act so innocent, sweetheart." He chides, his voice soft but condescending in it's tone. "You knew exactly what you were doing."

A step closer, than another, until he's practically kneeling on the bench beside you both, only a few inches away. "Steve's definitely got it out for you--problem is, I do too."

It couldn't have been more obvious, but the reality of hearing it fall from Eddie's mouth has your heart skipping a beat. Two of you bestfriends, two people you loved--it should feel wrong.

Eddie lets out a short chuckle, eyes dark, not soft like they usually are. He wasn't mad, you've known him long enough to understand what that looks like, but this--it was something else entirely. He leans in slowly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You were too hyperaware of your position now--Steve crowded over you, Eddie pushed in beside you. Steve hadn't even bothered to move, to enraptured by the show Eddie was putting on, almost like he was amused by it. You glance over at Steve, his mouth hung open slightly, still caught up in all the emotion of the moment, his grip never faltering.

"You think Harrington likes to watch? Or maybe he'll join in?" Eddie asks teasingly, eyes glancing toward Steve. Steve's eyes flit toward Eddie quickly, before returning to your own, eyes glossing over slightly. "He does get a little feisty when he drinks, doesn't he?"

"Eddie, just get to the point." You beg tiredly, glancing up toward him now. Eddie smiles, but it's slight, barely noticeable at all. He's thinking, contemplating. But, it doesn't take long before Eddie's leaning forward, chin grasped between his fingers in an effort to maneuver your face toward him. It's surprisingly gentle, despite how aggressive it would look to anyone passing by, luckily you three were completely alone.

"Just couldn't resist another taste, sweetheart." Eddie flirted entirely to well, it was one of his more annoying traits. He flirted with everyone, anything, it wasn't something you ever put much thought into. But, this--this was dirty, this was real. "I'll let myself regret it in the morning."

But, it's you who closes that gap, hand reaching up to graze the side of Eddie's face, fingers catching in one of his curls. Steve's grip on your waist tightens, but he doesn't move, doesn't let go. He hasn't even made a sound. Eddie licks into your mouth, desperate for more of you, teeth grazing against your bottom lip, nipping gently. Eddie was messy with passion in the way that Steve was slightly more coordinated--and the idea that you were even comparing the two was insane, but that was a thought for a later time. There were more pressing issues at hand--like, Eddie pulling away to suck at a particular spot on your neck, allowing you to finally lock eyes with Steve again.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice was rough, eyes drawn to where Eddie was sucking along your neck. You couldn't even be bothered to answer, nodding quickly in response. He pulls you in carefully, the hand that wasn't holding your waist a featherlight touch against your thigh, pulling your leg higher up his hip. He didn't seem to mind that Eddie wanted to join in, but he wanted to make sure his presence was still known. Not like you could forget it--this would be burned into your mind forever.

You sigh, desperate for more and more touch, from either of them. It was driving you wild, the way Eddie was whispering in your ear, taking the time to claim up your skin with his own mouth, all while being devoured by Steve’s, his tongue breaching past your lips, desperate to pull any little sound he could out of you. Words were pointless, you couldn’t even form one. It wasn’t like you were drunk enough to the point where you couldn’t make a rational decision, not that anything was making sense right now, but you were definitely aware.

“Switch me, Harrington.” Eddie sighs out, hand reaching around to grip at the thigh that Steve wasn’t occupying, squeezing at the sensitive flesh. You whine softly, the cold sting of his rings a very prominent reminder. This was Eddie, your best friend, and Steve—also your best friend—how were you going to recover from this?

Steve doesn’t put up a fight, surprisingly, switching with Eddie quickly, hand wandering up your chest, slipping under the thin material of your shirt. “This okay?” He asks into crown of your head, mouth buried into your hair, squeezing at your breast, over the flimsy bralette that covered them.

“So okay. So much better than okay.” You confess, pleasure having taken over your rational thinking completely. You catch the glance that Eddie sends Steve's way, watching his hand disappear under your shirt. And for a split second, Steve locks eyes with him. They could've buried you six feet under at this point, not even feeling like you were in control of yourself anymore. But, the feeling of Eddie's lips brushing against your own has you jolting back to reality, your hand coming up to push his hair out of his face, delving into his mouth, a sloppy mess of tongue and spit, just like before.

It was a stark contrast, the way Eddie was ready to devour you whole, compared to Steve, who was sure of himself, but never taking a step too far without checking in with you. It had you reeling, two of the boys you care about most, drawing sounds out of you that you had no idea existed. You had to stop this at some point, before you three woke up the next morning, unable to look at each other.

You sighed, reaching back to rub tenderly at Steve's arm, pulling his attention away from where his face was buried in your neck, barely grazing Eddie's, but it's enough to interrupt him. He pulls back, eyes softer now.

"We have to stop." You say, regretfully. As much as you wanted to let the alcohol think for you, some things just couldn't get out of control, not this. "We can't do this."

They both pull back slowly, slightly dejected. "Sorry." Steve says softly, attempting to subtly adjust the front of his pants, but he fails.

"Damn, Harrington." Eddie laughs, finally pulling back, fishing his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "You just keep surprising me."

"Shut up." Steve shoots back, but there's no real emotion behind it. He almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation, not having fully processed everything either.

"I need to get back before Robin comes looking for me." You tell them both, the flick of Eddie's lighter louder in the silence that had settled.

"Eh, I don't know about that." Eddie gives you a playful look, taking a long drag from the cigarette. "She might be a little busy."

"With?" You ask, eyeing him carefully.

"Let's just say, Wheeler was pretty eager to run off with her earlier," He glances over at Steve, then back at you, "and I definitely didn't catch them making out over by the parking lot."

"Damn, I didn't think Robin had it in her." Steve comments offhandedly, seemingly proud of his friend.

"God," You sigh, rubbing your hands over your face tiredly, "this is the last party I'm ever tagging along on."

"Probably a good idea," Eddie says, smiling down at you, "you might end up falling in love with us." It's a lame attempt at a joke, but the way your heart flutters scares you.

"Yeah." You force a laugh, pushing yourself off the table and attempting to walk back toward the wild group of drunk teenagers. The boys trail closely behind, exchanging glances between each other unbeknownst you. Steve shakes his head in disbelief.

"Hey!" You hear Robin yells, jogging toward you. Nancy was close behind her, an obvious pep in her step. You gave Robin a suspicious look, eyeing her up and down. "So, these two ever stop acting so grumpy?"

"Yeah." You say slowly, glancing over at Nancy, who was forcing herself to hide the obvious smile on her face. "They'll be okay, we talked it out."

"Good, at least they finally figured their shit out." Robin whispers to you, glancing up at the two boys who were both wearing the same pair of shit-eating grins on their face at the sight of their other two friends.

"I could say the same for you."

The look on Robin's face is priceless, sending you running in the direction of Steve's car at the startled yell of your name. "She's gonna kill you for that." Eddie comments, gasping for breath when you finally come to a stop, arm draped over your shoulder gently.

"I told you, she just needed a nudge." Steve smirks, jingling the keys to his car in front of you. "Need a ride?"

It didn't matter if you three ended up in the back of Steve's car that night, somehow in the same situation as earlier, you could regret it in the morning. But truthfully, that wasn't the last time—and none of you ever regretted it.

[sunshinesteviee]

hot chocolate kisses - r.b.

summary: finding the perfect christmas tree for your first christmas in your apartment with robin wc: 1.9k warnings: lots of fluff, mostly just robin being the cutest gf, steve, dustin, and max make an appearance a/n: just a cute lil christmas idea from @harringtonswriting for our sweet gf robin!! happy holidays everyone!

“Holy shit it’s cold,” you murmured, mostly under your breath, as you pulled the car door shut behind you in a haste. 

Luckily, Steve’s car was much warmer than it was outside, so it likely wouldn’t take long for you to warm up again, especially with how cramped the car was. Steve was driving, with Dustin sitting in the passenger seat next to him. Max was also joining you, and was already sitting in the back, where you and Robin had managed to squeeze in when Steve picked you up. He huffed, as if you’d insulted him, patting the steering wheel lovingly, “She’s trying her best, okay?”

“Nobody insulted your precious car, Steve,” Robin rolled her eyes and turned to you with a smile on her face as she bumped her shoulders into yours gently. 

“Not yet they haven’t,” Max chimed in from the other side of Robin, a smirk forming on her lips as she met Steve’s eyes in the rear view mirror. 

Steve narrowed his eyes at her and then looked back at the road, “I’ll let you walk home in the cold, Mayfield. Don’t try me.” Everyone knew it was an empty threat — Steve would never make anyone, much less Max, walk home in the cold — but she rolled her eyes and didn’t say anything else. 

Robin had asked Steve to drive the two of you to pick out a Christmas tree and help you bring it home, and he’d agreed, but you’re not quite sure how Max and Dustin had ended up coming along for the trip. Not that you cared — they always made things much more lively, and it’d probably help to have the extra hands. Sure enough, the car was filled with chatter the entire drive to the Christmas tree farm just outside of Hawkins, but you found yourself staring out the window most of the time instead. 

The holidays had always been your favorite time of year, with cozy clothes and blankets, movies and hot drinks, and all of the color and light and love being spread around. This year was special, though, because it was your first Christmas living with Robin, and you both wanted to go all out. You’d never had a real tree, and Robin insisted a real one was better, so you agreed to pick the perfect one together. Your apartment was small, though, so you couldn’t really go as big as you wanted to, but you were sure there was the perfect tree out there somewhere. Steve had insisted that the tree farm he was driving to now would be your best bet with many options.

Wrapped up in your thoughts, you nearly missed Robin’s voice as she tried to get your attention, “You okay, babe?”

“Huh?” you shook your head, turning away from the window towards your girlfriend, “I’m okay, just admiring the snow. I hope all the lights will be turned on on our way home.”

“I’ll personally make sure of it,” Robin replied, nodding seriously before breaking out into a grin. She was joking, but she really would go door to door asking people to turn on their Christmas lights if it would make you happy. She’d do anything for you if it meant putting a smile on your face. 

Leaning over, you pressed a quick kiss to the high point of Robin’s cheekbone. Smiling against her skin, you murmured, “Thanks, baby.”

—

“Babe! I found the perfect tree!” Robin appeared next to you as you stood in line for hot chocolate, and slipped her arm through yours, pulling you in close to her. You’d all been searching for nearly half an hour for the perfect tree, and Steve, Max, and Dustin were starting to get antsy. You couldn’t really blame them — Robin was being extremely picky — and offered to buy everyone a cup of cocoa for their patience. 

“Yeah?” you asked hopefully, taking a step closer to her, fresh snow crunching underneath your winter boots. It had started snowing shortly after you’d arrived at the Christmas tree farm, and big snowflakes were beginning to coat everything in sight. Including Robin’s eyelashes and hair. Her cheeks and nose were tinted pink from the cold, a soft dusting over her pretty freckles. Reaching up with a mitten-covered hand, you brushed a few stray pieces of hair out of her face. “Shoulda brought your hat, Robs.”

She blinked a few times, causing the snow on her lashes to melt, a crooked grin tugging at her lips, “I’ll just steal Steve’s.”

You let out a laugh, maneuvering your hand into Robin’s, your mitten clasping around hers, “He’ll love that.” You could already picture the scowl on your friend’s face as he handed his knitted hat to her. “Where’s the tree you found, love?”

“Oh! Near the back of the lot. Steve is watching to make sure no one takes it. Because it’s perfect.”

“I’m sure it is!” you replied, pausing for a moment before adding skeptically, “It’ll fit in our apartment, right?”

Robin was completely serious as she replied, “Definitely. I’m 100% positive.”

As much as you loved Robin, her estimation skills were questionable at best, and you didn’t have quite as much confidence as she did in her assertion. You gave her the benefit of the doubt anyway and nodded, leaning into her side to press a kiss to her cheek. She let out a soft laugh, her breath forming a cloud in front of her, “It’s so cold that even your lips are cold, baby.”

“Warm them up for me?” you asked with a cheeky grin.  

Letting out a flustered sound, Robin’s cheeks somehow became even redder, but she brought her free hand up to cup your face in her mitten and pressed her lips to yours. Her lips were cold, too, and a bit chapped from the dry winter air. Still, she kissed you sweetly. Delicately, as if you might break. After a moment, she pulled back just enough to kiss the apples both of your cheeks, the tip of her nose rubbing against yours. She let out a quiet giggle, breath warm against your lips, “How’s that?”

“Much better,” you nodded, leaning in to press one last quick peck to her lips. 

Someone behind you in line cleared their throat, causing the two of you to jump apart. Heat spread across your face as you gave them a sheepish smile in apology, and quickly hurried forward to order your drinks, not wanting to keep anyone waiting any longer. Robin mumbled an apology, launching into a long-winded rant to the person about just how cold it was. 

Shoving the change the cashier had given you back into your pocket, you managed to collect three of the five cups of hot chocolate in your hands. Unable to grab the last two, you called for your girlfriend, “Robs! Help, please?”

“I got ‘em!” She grabbed the last two cups and started leading you back to where everyone was waiting. 

You finally found a sullen-looking Steve with his arms crossed over his chest, and Max and Dustin in a heated debate about something that definitely wasn’t as serious as they were making it out to be. Calling Steve’s name, you handed him his hot chocolate first, and he quickly accepted it with a gracious smile, wrapping his hands around the warm cup. The kids both thanked you profusely as you gave them their cups and then took yours from Robin, “So, where’s this perfect tree?”

The kids let out a snort, and Steve smiled behind his cup as Robin’s eyes lit up, “It’s that one right there!” She pointed just behind Steve to the smallest, scraggliest tree you’d ever seen. 

“Oh. That’s… that will definitely fit in our apartment,” you replied, trying your hardest to suppress the laugh that was bubbling up. 

“I know!” she beamed with pride, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that you adored. 

The tree was a bit like the one from Charlie Brown; it couldn’t have been more than four feet tall, and was incredibly sparse. It was ugly, to put it plainly, and you weren’t sure any amount of decorations would save it. But Robin seemed so excited about this specific tree that you weren’t sure you could say no. Still, you asked, “You don’t want a bigger one?”

“But this one is so cute! And I feel bad because nobody wants it. Just think about how cute it’ll be with our ornaments!” 

You exchanged a glance with Steve, finding him still trying not to laugh behind his cup. Turning back to Robin, you finally nodded with a laugh, “Yeah, okay, baby. Let’s get it. It’ll be perfect.”  

—

Hours later, after decorating your little tree, you settled onto the couch in your apartment, admiring the colorful lights and pretty ornaments. The only lights on in the living room were the lights on the tree, and they cast your small space in a reddish glow. Robin was right; with the decorations, it wasn’t really half bad. It wasn’t the prettiest tree you’d ever seen, but it was yours, and you’d picked it out and decorated it together.

Robin reemerged from the kitchen with two mugs in hand and handed one to you before sitting next to you, pulling your legs into her lap. You threw the opposite end of the blanket you were using over her, and lifted the mug to your lips. Taking a hesitant sip, you let out a soft laugh, “Another hot chocolate?”

“You can never have too many hot chocolates this time of year, silly,” Robin replied, taking a sip of her own. Her eyes twinkled in the dim light, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I think we did good with our first tree, don’t you?” 

“You were right, it’s perfect, love.” 

Her smile grew at that, “Yeah? I think so, too.” 

Just like she’d said earlier — you’d do anything to make her happy. Placing your mug on the small coffee table in front of the couch, you scooted closer to Robin and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “Robin?” 

The fingers not holding her mug wrapped around your wrist to keep you in place, and she quickly turned her head to press her lips to the delicate skin there. “Mhm?” she breathed out, the tip of her nose brushing yours when she looked back to you. 

“Just…” you paused, cupping her face in your hands, “I love you.” 

For the second time that day, pink crawled up Robin’s neck, heat blooming under your palm on her cheek. Instead of replying, Robin leaned forward, closing the space between the two of you to kiss you. It was a bit urgent, as if she didn’t kiss you at that exact moment, she might combust, but still sweet, hoping to convey just how much she loved you, too. 

Robin pulled back after a moment, shifting to place her mug next to yours on the table before pulling your body fully into her lap. She leaned in for another kiss, a breathless giggle against your lips, “You taste like hot chocolate.” 

“Weird. So do you,” you murmured, threading your fingers into her hair to pull her lips to yours once more.

Before you could kiss her again, though, she added, “I love you, too, by the way.” Letting out a loud laugh, you shook your head and pulled her in, your lips fitting perfectly together just like always. 

[inkareds]

Flirt Dick Grayson

nav // dc m.list // ko-fi ✧.* word count: 3k ✧.* genre: SFW // Fluff ✧.* warnings: nothing rly except Dick's dating history with Kori, Barbs, and Wally lmao he rly does have a type (redheads)

When you, the resident flirt of Gotham's arsenal of vigilantes, noticeably stop flirting with the only person who ever reciprocated your flirts, Nightwing. Dick realises he needed to face his feelings for you before anything worse happens.

Taglist (rmbr u can join my taglist through the link in my bio or commenting in my monthly wip lists on which fics you'd like to be tagged also if you'd like to be removed j tell me! No hard feelings!!! <3): @igotanidea @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @lysaluv @dmckat @deliciousfestsalad @simonsbluee

It has been a running joke for the longest time. Even Alfred and Bruce have gotten used to it at this point. After years of you flirting with practically everyone in your age group in the Batfamily, off and on the missions, it is almost expected.

Which was why it was so surprising when you stopped, particularly stopped with Dick Grayson. Nightwing.

“Babs, you’re looking even hotter now in that new haircut, care for a hot coffee?” You pranced in the Batcave during a rather tedious night while everyone was analysing a collection of pieces of evidence they were able to put together to hopefully take down Two Face.

Barbara only chuckled and turned around in her wheelchair to face you, “Thank you for noticing, sure, I’ll have a cup of coffee.” Right as you gave Barbara her coffee, Tim yelled out from behind you, “She gets a coffee and I don’t?!”

You sarcastically groaned before turning around and handing the overworked Red Robin his coffee, “Thre-” “Three shots of just espresso, yes. I know your order well enough at this point.

Tim silently thanked you before going back to work, only for you to reply with a low you’re welcome and a wink. All this almost felt routine to you. Being your own vigilante out on the streets, you’ve come to enjoy the playful banter and flirts that are so uniquely you. It made you even happier that the recipients, the entirety of the Batfamily, seem to enjoy them just as much.

Your little quips and playful teasings brought some light and humour into the dark and gloomy nights of Gotham City. So, you kept doing them.

A little jab at Jason’s book obsession, a small back and forth banter with Stephanie, even the rare corny jokes that somehow were able to make Cass smile. It was all worth it and you made sure everyone got a dose of it. Even Tim, who has repeatedly told you to stop, especially when your jokes get suggestive, and he gets too flustered, seems to tolerate and even humour it at times.

See, you made sure everyone got their daily dose of you. Except, the resident oldest son in the Batfamily, Dick Grayson. The original Boy Wonder. At first, it wasn’t that noticeable. It went from you complimenting his ass every other day to only chuckling at his dad jokes that annoyed everyone else.

But then it became so much more noticeable. So much so that Stephanie started wondering if there was anything wrong between the two of you. You started brushing off Dick more and more when he asked to be partnered with you during your missions. Despite the fact that you’re usually excited anytime anyone at all wants to partner with you, even if it wasn’t the most strategically well-thought-out decision. You seemed to prefer going with anyone except Dick in most cases when the strategy even slightly calls for it.

To be quite honest, Bruce would be quite content if this was where it ended. After all, he could only explain to you and Dick so many times why being together in every single mission is a bad idea, especially during the missions where it’s clear Dick is better suited to go with someone else or the opposite. But it didn’t just end there.

You would also take up more daytime shifts with Duke. Your reasoning? Since the day you started you weren’t a night-only vigilante like most of Gotham’s protectors were. So why not take more day shifts? This wouldn’t be so suspicious had you not opted out for the daytime shifts during the days Dick was working with the Batfamily. Which, mind you, wasn’t every day. He had his own duties in Bludhaven, but every time he was needed in Gotham, needed by Bruce. You avoided working with him unless absolutely necessary.

Then came the complete erasure of your dose of flirts and jabs. It was clear within the mansion that you got the most joy doing your little quips and flirtings when it was to Dick. As he would usually quip back to you with the same energy. But it was as if that entire thing was gone from you now.

Even in missions where there was some downtime, just like now, you’d avoid complimenting Dick. Not Jason, who doesn’t always react well to your statements. Not Cass who never says anything back, only chuckles or smiles. Not even Tim who groans and pretends you annoy him. But Dick, fucking, Grayson, the man who always matched your energy and would always make you laugh even more. You avoided him.

“Hey hot stuff, big bat said you needed my assistance.” You landed right in the empty spot between Jason and Dick, grinning ear to ear from under your mask at the obvious annoyance radiating off of Jason immediately after your statement. “When I said we needed help, I was expecting Cass.”

You feigned hurt as you dramatically fall to your side and leaned at Jason, “Ouch. Why would you hurt me so, my love?” your hand reached out to touch his helmet before getting swatted by Jason. A burst of laughter escaped you as you stood up straight again. All before turning to Dick and greeting him with a simple, “Hey, blue, how’s Bludhaven?”

“It’d be better with you in it.” Dick landed his signature sarcastic smirk as Jason groaned in displeasure beside you. The two men expected you to say something equally as flirtatious, as you always do. But instead, you only chuckled dryly. “I’m guessing it’s not currently infested with crime then if you’re here helping us Gothamites out.”

Jason’s brow furrowed under his helmet as he listened in to the interaction between the two of you. He was never one to be too curious about things that didn’t affect him, but this was one of his best friends acting completely out of their element. And it seems that not only Jason was caught off guard.

As Dick had to pause for a moment, letting your response sink in before clearing his throat and answering, almost awkwardly so. “Yeah, nothing too big, just petty thieves the police can deal with.”

“Good to know.” That was your only response. Plain, dry, and straight to the point. It was odd seeing you react and especially talk in that manner. No funny flirts? No banter? Nothing about how the police wouldn’t be able to handle Dick in that costume? Nothing at all???

This would be weird if it happened once, unfortunately, it became downright strange when it happened almost every time.

Long conversations between you and Dick would turn into short polite greetings. And his attempts at trying to elongate any type of interaction between you two would only be one-sided. It had seemed, to everyone in the manor that, you hated Dick Grayson. Well, to everyone except Cassandra Cain.

Dick barged into Barbara’s apartment one night after an uneventful night in Gotham and decided to vent to one of your closest mutual friends with him. “I just don’t get it, Babs. One day we were fine! Then the next they suddenly started avoiding me?? Did I do something wrong to them?”

Barbara Gordon, absolutely tired of Dick’s melodrama wheeled herself towards the window sill where Dick was perching on top of like a damn bird. “Listen, Dick, maybe they just need some time, you know? It couldn’t be something personal to them, it’s not always your fault.” She tried consoling him. Even though all she ever wanted to do right now was get back to her couch with Cass and continue watching the film Dick interrupted.

“But that’s the thing! If it is personal, then it’s personal to them AND me!” Despite the fact that Barbara made no indication of letting Dick in, the man, still fully suited, let himself in through the window. “They’re acting normal to you guys, hell did you even hear what happened during the mission yesterday? They said Tim’s tired voice was hot! Tim!!! They usually say that about me!”

Dick then collapsed on the couch in front of the one Cass was sitting on, sighing over dramatically. “I just- I want to know what I did wrong so I can apologize to them.”

“You did nothing wrong.” Cass suddenly spoke, surprising Dick. Though Barbara just sighed and made her way towards Cass, sitting beside the black-haired woman, “She’s right. Cass and I have been talking about this and I think the issue is with them, not you.” Barbara explained further.

This statement confused Dick even more, how could it be your fault? What did they even mean? “You know, for the first person trained by Bruce, you’re kind of dumb.” Barbara jested at seeing Dick’s perplexed face.

The cogs started to turn in Dick’s brain but still, it didn’t make any sense. “Grayson, how do you feel about them? Why do you care so much?” Barbara, feeling slightly less exhausted and more pity for the man who seemed like he was not getting the hint finally tried to better explain.

Dick contemplated his answer for a moment. He’s had thought about his feelings for you once before, and the conclusion then was the same as he was about to come to right now. Inconclusive. He’s fallen in love before. Kori, Barbara, hell, even Wally. All three he fucked up one way or another, all three he’s made the best of, and all three were his closest friends now. But with you, with you, it felt almost different.

With you, nothing ever felt heavy or complicated. He didn’t feel the thoughts running through his head on how he should impress you or how he could get rid of his competition. He didn’t feel butterflies or nerves whenever he was around you either. Quite the opposite actually. You made him feel light.

Lighter than feathers.

You made him feel like he was capable of flying.

And so he told all of this to Barbara and Cass. Barbara reacted by smiling, whilst Cass gave him a straight answer. “You love them.” It was then the blocks really fell into place. He felt confident, light, and happy around you because that’s the kind of love he felt right now. The kind of love that felt joyous with no burdens. The kind of pure love that no one ever realises they harbour for anyone until the direct question is asked. The kind of love that’s just absolutely perfect.

His realisation causes the entire situation to worsen. Now his heart hurt even more at the thought of you ignoring him or being mad at him. “That still doesn’t answer why they’d avoid me.” he spoke, exasperated.

“Talk to them.” That was all that Cass said, and before Dick could protest, saying he could never put you in such an awkward position, Barbara agreed with her.

She urged Dick outside and somehow gave him the strength a childhood friend could give. So, he nodded. He needed the closure anyways. Even if you told him outright that you were avoiding him because you hated him, or the like, at least he’d have an answer. A straightforward one. He just had to talk to you.

So, that is exactly what he did. Dick, at this point, knew the days you’d leave to patrol and the days when you don’t. It was just his luck that today was the day you finished patrolling early. Thankfully, Gotham wasn’t that noisy tonight, so you must’ve already been in bed, cuddled up in your blanket, scrolling mindlessly through your phone before surrendering to slumber.

He thought it was alright to just pop in for a while.

Whilst making his way from rooftop to rooftop towards your apartment, Dick rehearsed what he wanted to say over and over again in his mind. He thought about what to respond with for every one of your answers. Despite what Barbara said, it was VERY clear Dick was Bruce's first trainee, for he had the same anxiety and overthinking nature Bruce did. Something he wished he could trade for the whole world right now.

Because if he could flirt his way to getting the heart of his childhood friend, Barbara Gordon, an alien princess that towers over him, Koriand'r, and a speedster capable of rewriting time and space through speed, Wally West. Why was it so hard to just talk to you?

For once, he felt nervous to see you, yet his body would not let him turn around and flee for Bludhaven. Your very existence called out to him, and he chased after it. Even if it may lead to the end of his heart as if he was a moth and you were his very own personal flame.

Now approaching your fire escape, he stood there for a moment. Even if you were truly fire, someone to burn him to the ground after your rejection, he'd only have to rise from the ashes once more and wait until your flames would not hurt him as much.

So, with a deep inhale, he knocked on the glass. In a second, he heard you rushing inside the apartment before you slammed the window open. “Jay what took you so long?! I’ve been waiting-” That name genuinely felt like a slap to the face.

Any kind of bravery Barbara practically drilled into Dick’s head was gone when he heard you call out Jason’s name. Why were you expecting Jason? Did his brother come over to your home this late often? If so, why???

He saw you visibly tense up when you realised it was him and wondered if this was a bad idea. It was clear that something had happened between you and him to make you act this way, even if he himself didn’t know what it was. Perhaps it’d be better to leave it that way rather than confront it and make things even worse.

“Dick, hi,” you mumbled almost awkwardly. Especially after calling out to his brother, thinking it was him that was paying you a visit.

It was too late though, Dick couldn’t just back down now that you were in front of him. If he were to back down what kind of excuse could he tell you? Why would he be on your fire escape at 11 pm? It just made no sense. So he took a deep breath and finally spoke. “Hey, can we talk?”

There was a sudden air of seriousness that filled the empty space between both of you at that moment. The usual charming boyish smile on Dick’s face was the number one sign to you that he was being serious. “Yeah, uh, sure, come in.” You awkwardly shuffled away from the window to let Dick in.

It felt awkward having him in your space. As if the two of you didn’t spend hours upon hours in the past just lounging about in your apartment watching bad hallmark movies and laughing every time a cliche happens. He felt almost foreign now that you’ve made it your mission to avoid him for the last few months. It wasn’t any better for Dick, he had never felt so out of his element than at this very moment. Feeling as though he wasn’t supposed to be there.

“So,” you awkwardly started shifting your weight from one foot to the other, “What did you want to talk about?”

Dick stayed silent for a little while, “I just,” he braved himself to look at your eyes. “I just wanted to know where we went wrong.” Your eyes widened at his statement.

But your silence invited Dick to continue talking, “We used to be so close to each other and now I can’t help but feel like you’re avoiding me. I just want to know where we went wrong.” There was sincerity in his voice and you knew that.

He truly did feel like shit after your attempts of avoiding and ignoring him. Dick watched as the cogs start turning in your brain, he could only assume you were trying to formulate a response. But he wasn’t done telling you everything.

He was highly aware of how his plan may backfire, especially because there was a high chance in Dick’s mind that the reason why you were avoiding him was that you hated him. That’s why before he could take any of the negative responses he wanted you to know how he truly felt.

“I-,” he awkwardly stated, “I really like you. I want to be the reason you smile everyday and I want to always be by your side. But if you don’t feel the same way then I can understand that.” There was something awkward about accepting his rejection before he was even rejected. Despite this, he still said what he needed to say, and now he waited.

The tension in the air was palpable, you could cut it with a knife with how thick it was. Your silence was killing him. As he dropped his gaze to the ground, slowly regretting every single word that he spoke to you since his decision to confront you, he felt your soft hand touch his cheek.

His eyes, underneath the mask he forgot to take off, widened in surprise at your amused smile. Your thumb played with the edges of his mask for a moment before talking, “You dense idiot. Here I thought I was the fool.”

In pure confused fashion, Dick felt his words get stuck in his throat, so much so he didn’t know what to say. “I’ve been avoiding you because I wanted to move on from you. You idiot.”

It was then he looked at you as if you had grown fifty more heads, causing a spark of laughter to erupt from you. “Wait! Move on?! From me?! So you- you like me too?!” There was something so innocently childish with the way the puzzles connected in his head. You could only laugh and nod your head excitingly.

Once Dick finally let your words melt into his heart, he practically jumped. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner then?!?!!” He held your face in his hands as a giant smile decorated his face.

“I didn’t think you liked me that way, every time I flited with you, you’d always joke around! I thought you were just joking!!!” You stated in between your laughs. Dick could only let out an exasperated joyous bark of laughter. “I was never joking every singly time I flirted with you!”

“Well neither was I!”

It was at that moment the two of your realised what idiots both of you were. The tension then broke almost immediately, laughter and joy circled the air as the two of you lovestruck idiots realised the other’s feelings.

In the next few months, the Batfamily, including Bruce, would soon see the flirt of Gotham, you. Would soon not earn that title any longer. As your quips, flirts, and teasing would now only be directed to Bludhaven’s very own blue bird, Dick Grayson, Nightwing, and his pretty ass. 

I don't really like the ending but this was already 3k words long so I didn't want to make it any longer tbh BUT HERE IT IS finally it's done I really enjoyed writing the awkward confessions cause that's what confessions are. They're always so awkward whether or not they end good or bad! Anyways, thank you so much for reading and I hope all of you have a very good day!

[the-modernmary]

chess, not checkers || a. hotchner x f!reader

Summary: Cross-examining Agent Hotchner should have been a lot more simple than it had been. But when the questioning slips out of your control, you find yourself being profiled right there in the middle of the courtroom. Amazing how one stranger can know you better than anybody you've ever met.

Contains: SMUT! 18+ only, minors DNI. Fingering, (light) choking, semi-public sex, adultery, anger sex, enemies to lovers, edging, lawyer hotch <3

Word Count: 8k+

Comments: This is so heavily inspired by “charcoal grey” because we all know how hot he was in that scene. Thank you to @angelfxllcm for being an absolute godsend as I wrote this and being the most supportive friend ever. (If you haven’t read her work, you absolutely should!)

“Fucking FBI and their selfish ass schedules,” you grumbled as you hurried through the hallway of the courthouse, your intern Robin on on your heels. “Court gets pushed back for a week because Agent Hotchner just had to leave with them on a case instead of working remotely, and then expects us to drop everything to go to court the second he gets back to D.C. As if we don’t have jobs too. As if I don’t have six other cases sitting on my desk that now have to be pushed back because of him.”

 Robin scrambled behind you, nodding along to every word that left your mouth. “Does this happen with the, uh…”

  “BAU,” you supplied.

  “—BAU, right. Do court cases usually get pushed back for them?”

  You shook your head as you checked your watch. A glint caught the corner of your eye. Shit, your ring. You hadn’t expected to go to court, and completely forgot to leave it at home. You pulled it off and slipped it into the outside pocket of your bag, hoping nobody noticed.

“No. Most cases from the BAU never go to court,” you explained. “There’s enough evidence against the people they arrest that it’s almost always a plea.”

  The Bankers Box in Robin’s hands almost slipped as you placed another file precariously on top of it. “Then why is this case going to court?”

  Your step faltered as you processed her question, and you couldn’t hide the disbelief on your face. “You did read the brief for this case, right?” you asked, unsure if you really wanted the answer, except her embarrassed blush and averted gaze gave you enough of one. “Seriously? Okay, well, first of all, because of that, you won’t be sitting at the attorney’s table with us. Instead you’ll be in the public seating. I won’t weaken my case because you decided to be unprepared. If this happens again, you won’t be welcome to join me in court at all, am I clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Deciding to take pity on the poor intern, you sighed as you started your explanation. “Our client claims that his arrest was unlawful and therefore none of the evidence they found should be usable. I’m inclined to agree with him, so we’re fighting all of the charges that were made with evidence found after the arrest.”

  “So you don’t think he’s guilty?”

  “I don’t ask that question. I’m not God and I’m not his priest, I don’t need to hear his confession. I just need to get him out of unjust and illegal charges.”

  Robin’s eyebrows furrowed. “So he’s going to walk free? Even after everything he did? How do you sleep at night?”

  Fucking Christ, how did this girl even get into law school? You rolled your eyes, suddenly regretting your decision to take on an intern. “No, he’s not going to walk free. He’s going to get a lesser charge, because everything else was obtained illegally. And I sleep very well, actually, because my job isn’t some episode of Law & Order. Less than 10% of my cases ever go to trial. I’m not here to suddenly convince juries that the evidence is wrong. My job is making sure that everybody is given their constitutional rights, that the police are doing their jobs correctly, and that the State isn’t over-punishing. Any cop knows that, and if you ever come across one that doesn’t, you know that you should look into those cases even further. You have to realize, criminal defense lawyers—”

  “— are the last line of protection against a corrupt system.” You turned to see your assistant, Marcus, making his way towards you, briefcase and your spare blazer that you keep in the office in hand. “I see you’re giving her your famous anti-prosecutor lecture.”

  Marcus helped you slip on your blazer over your satin button up, his hands lingering on your skin for just a little too long to be considered professional, and it made you shiver in anticipation. “God knows she needs it. Thank you, Marcus, for bringing these so quickly. Were you able to get the physical copies of Agent Hotchner’s files?”

  Marcus held up his briefcase. “All right here. Although I have to say, I’m a little lost as to why you need his service records.”

  The three of you turned the corner to enter the courtroom, your heels clicking on the tiled floor. Robin obediently took her seat in the public viewing area while you and Marcus pushed through the swinging door to settle at your table. “I’ve heard stories of Agent Hotchner’s testimonies. He used to be a prosecutor, so he’s not easily tricked, but he is prideful and will defend his work. I’m going to use that to my advantage. It’s like I always say, practicing law means always playing chess, never checkers.”

  Marcus took the seat next to you, making sure to sit close enough that his knee brushed yours the whole time. “You know, I was thinking, this case is complicated,” he whispered, “And we haven’t combed through everything yet… It could take more time than we planned.”

  You smirked, knowing exactly what he was insinuating. “Agreed. I’ll tell Tony I have to stay late at the office tonight.”

  Before Marcus could continue his flirting, you were distracted by the door to the judge’s chamber opening, revealing the back of a man in a black suit. “Thank you again, your honor, for the continuance,” came the deep timbre of the man, and oh. You certainly weren’t expecting that. “A young girl was able to be reunited with her family this week because of it.”

  The man in the doorway turned, and your breath caught in your throat. He was tall and buff and expensive-looking and absolutely gorgeous. His suit was tailored to fit him perfectly, the sleeves of his blazer straining against his biceps. He carried himself with an aura of confidence, like he belonged in the courtroom, and he was making his way directly towards you. Unconsciously, you separated from Marcus, putting as much distance between you and your assistant as possible without raising suspicion.

  The man said something to the prosecution before turning to you, hand outstretched. He said your name as a greeting, and your name had never sounded so good. “I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

  When you stood up to shake his hand, you tried to ignore the way his eyes raked down your body, or the way the two of you held on just a moment too long to be considered proper. It felt as if he was looking right through you, learning all of your secrets as though they were written on your body. No, you knew that look. He was studying you. “Agent Hotchner, it’s a pleasure.”

  “Likewise, Counselor. Please, call me Aaron.”

  You raised your eyebrows in Aaron’s direction, still shaking his hand, and it made your skin burn. You dropped his hand. “I’m just glad we’re able to get this case done and over with. Hopefully with no more delays.”

  His eyebrows quirked upwards in what could only be described as shock. “I see your reputation precedes you,” was his only reply before going to his respective seat, and if he noticed you watching his every move, he made no indication of it. That being said, you definitely felt his gaze on the back of your head as the judge entered the room and the session began.

  As the proceedings dragged on, you and Marcus continued to talk strategy, his hand finding its way to your thigh ever so often. You also continued negotiating with the prosecutor, both of you flashing Post-It notes of potential plea deals that you would be willing to accept, always careful to keep it out of the eyes of the judge and jury. By the time Aaron had been called to the stand, the offer given to you still wasn’t low enough. Fine, if the prosecution wanted to make a fool of themselves, so be it.

  You listened to Aaron’s testimony with the prosecution, completely enraptured. There was something about the way he spoke, so full of authority and confidence, that made the entire room drawn to him. He was incredibly intelligent, that much was clear, and despite the many years since he had actually practiced law, that prosecutor candor hadn’t left him. Staying focused on the case had proven to be more difficult than previously expected. You found yourself staring at his lips, and it didn’t take long for your mind to conjure up some obscene and explicit situations starring the man in front of you. 

  Eventually, his eyes caught yours, and he watched you, his lips — god, those lips — quirked up in a smirk. Aaron watched you expectantly, and in the light of the courtroom, his eyes were almost the color of whiskey, and you wanted nothing more than to drink it all in.

  A sharp “Counselor” broke you out of your trance. In the corner of your eye, you could see Marcus looking at you in concern, but he was the furthest thing from your mind now, especially as Aaron let out an amused huff of air.

  “Counselor, does the prosecution wish to cross-examine the witness?” the judge asked with barely hidden annoyance, making you think that it probably wasn’t the first time she had asked the question.

  You stood up quickly, smoothing down your pencil skirt as you did. “Yes, your honor. Thank you,” you said, trying your best to keep your voice steady as you noticed Aaron’s eyes trailing down your bare legs.

  The cross-examination started normally, and Aaron answered all of your questions with careful precision that only a lawyer could pull off. He seemed to know exactly where you were trying to go with your questions, and easily sidestepped any unflattering implication you were trying to make. Long, biased questions were met with short, clipped answers, not giving you anything to work with. Whatever move you made, Aaron was right there, two steps ahead with you. Never in your life had you met somebody who could follow you so easily or could match your wit without so much breaking a sweat.

  It was exhilarating.

  “Agent Hotchner,” you started, hands clasped behind your back. “Could you please explain to the court how profiles are used when finding and apprehending suspects?”

  Aaron sat up a little taller in the witness box. “Using behavioral research and past case studies, we’re able to construct what we call a profile of the perpetrator, or unsub. Anything they do can give us insights as to who they are — their victims, what weapons they use, even how they dispose of the bodies. Once we have a profile of who we believe is committing these crimes, we have our technical analyst run the parameters through her system. From there, narrowing down our search is easy.”

  You nodded slowly, pretending to mull over what he was saying. “For clarification’s sake, in layman’s terms, you build your profile off of assumed psychology, and not concrete evidence, is that correct?”

  The muscles in Aaron’s jaw flexed, a sure sign he was gritting his teeth. “Behavior analysis is a tool, just like any other—”

  “It’s a yes or no question, Agent,” you interrupted, and oh, he was not happy about that.

  His tongue darted out from between his lips. “The research we use for behavior is—”

  “Yes. Or no.”

  Aaron hesitated, his frustration building up to palpable tension that settled in the courtroom like a thick fog. You weren’t giving him a chance to explain or show off anymore, didn’t allow him to be seen as the smartest person in the room anymore, and that was getting to him.

  “Yes,” he conceded, grimacing as if admitting that was physically painful for him.

  “Thank you,” you replied, and he caught the unspoken that wasn’t so hard now, was it? even if the rest of the room did not. You walked back over to your table, snatching up a piece of paper and holding it in the air. “Your honor, the defense would like to submit Exhibit Seven into evidence.”

  Once the judge gave her express permission, you placed the form in front of Aaron with your left hand, perfectly manicured fingers splayed out in front of his eyes. You almost missed the way his head tilted ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed, like he was staring at a puzzle half complete. “Agent, could you please tell us what’s laying in front of you now.”

  He leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the paper before meeting back with yours. “This is a part of our official report of the case. Specifically, it has the profile that was used to lead us to the apprehension of Mr. Mckenna.”

  “Does it say on that paper who had the final sign off on the profile before it was circulated?”

  “Yes, that would be me. As Unit Chief, my job is to sign and finalize any reports.”

  “And could you please read the profile, verbatim, as written on that report?”

  Aaron’s face remained neutral, with the exception of his eyebrows scrunching together. Slowly, he had started to piece together your strategy, and he didn’t like it. “The unsub is a white male, between 32 and 40 years old. He’ll most likely be unemployed and driving a van or truck — anything that would let him easily transport his equipment and victims. We believe that he’s also had run-ins with the law before, likely as a juvenile. He’ll come across as friendly, if not a little shy. We believe that this comes from a failed relationship in his past, one where he believes that he was manipulated and wronged, and now he’s going after surrogates for that woman. Killing these women is the only thing that gives him any sort of power. If we can figure out who this past relationship was, it will lead us directly to the killer.”

  You paced back and forth in front of the witness stand, your skirt tightening around your legs with every step you took. “Between 32 and 40 years old, unemployed, and killing surrogates… Except Mr. Mckenna is 22 and works part time as a bartender. How do you justify arresting my client with those inconsistencies?”

  “As I mentioned before,” Aaron started, his voice dangerously low, “A profile is just one tool we use of many. Not every single part of the profile will fit every single time. Which is why we also rely on outside evidence to ensure that we have the best chance at catching the unknown subject as quickly as possible.”

  “Except you had no concrete evidence, which you admit in your own report!” You took two steps closer to him, getting as in his face as possible without risking being held in contempt. With every word that left your mouth, your voice got more and more forceful, and you got more and more under Aaron’s skin.

  “All of it was circumstantial at best. You had a hunch, an inherent bias against my client due to his previous conviction record, and you were frustrated at your own inability to get a good lead. But you can’t arrest somebody on a hunch, or because you’re angry. You had no evidence and the man you arrested didn’t even match the profile that you came up with!”

  Your eyes locked with Aaron, his gaze heavy, and neither of you dared look away first. “Objection!” came from the prosecutor behind you. Exactly what you wanted. “Argumentative and foundation.” You flashed Aaron a predatory grin.

  Two moves to checkmate.

  “Sustained,” said the judge.

  “Withdrawn.” You tapped the witness bench, hoping to convey an air of aloofness and calm. Aaron scowled. “Agent Hotchner, before joining the FBI, you were a prosecutor, is that true?”

  Confusion flashed across his face for the briefest of moments, and it gave you a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that you had the upper hand. You knew the answer to every question you were about to ask, and he knew that. He just couldn’t figure out where you were going with this line of questioning, or what the relevance even was. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  You made a soft hum of approval. “Could you please walk us through your higher education?”

  “I attended George Washington University for both my undergraduate and law degree.”

  “What did you major in for your undergrad?”

  Aaron hesitated. “Political Science.”

  Check. “So all together, you’ve had about seven years in higher education. In that time, how many psychology classes did you take?”

  It was almost sadistic, the way you relished in the slight twitch of his face — the realization that he had been backed into a corner. The silence was deafening as Aaron’s scowl met your smug grin.

  “None,” Aaron said finally.

  “None,” you repeated, performative shock dripping from your words. “Do you have any academic background in psychology or human behavior, then?”

  Aaron’s jaw clenched, and as you made your way closer to the witness stand, you saw his thumb frantically moving back and forth over his fingertips. Clearly, you had struck a nerve. “The FBI has rigorous coursework in order to become a profiler, along with multiple exams and continued training as more research becomes available to us. The profiling classes are no easy feat and are written by experts in the field. Creating profiles has a long and respected history in detective work, and these profilers have caught some of the most prolific serial killers of all time.”

  You placed a hand over your chest in faux modesty. “My apologies, Agent Hotchner, I believe I wasn’t very clear. I’m not calling into question the validity and effectiveness of profiles. I’m calling into question the validity and effectiveness of you as a profiler.”

  You could practically see the cartoon fire spewing out of Aaron’s ears. He was so close to being in your trap, something he had to have known, too, yet he continued to toe dangerously close to that line.

  “A lack of formal education in profiling,” you continued, keeping your voice light, “and the blatant disregard for basic police and legal procedure as shown in this case with my client… I mean, how many other mistakes were made in your past cases? It’s hard to believe that you can read anybody, much less the hardened criminal that you have painted my client to be.”

  Checkmate.

  “Objection!” cried the prosecutor again. “Your Honor, this is —”

  He was cut off by the judge raising her hand. “Sustained. Counselor, I would advise you to tread lightly from here on out.”

  You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Withdrawn.” You turned around to make your way back to your table, ignoring Marcus’s look of complete disbelief. Baiting Aaron had been easy, and now all you had to do was wait.

  The courtroom was uncomfortably silent for one beat… two beats…

  “Not only can I read Mr. Mckenna,” echoed Aaron’s voice, “But I can also read you.”

  Once you got back to your desk, you turned around, hands resting on the cool wood of the table top, but you never sat down. Instead, you leaned forward, and arched your eyebrows in a silent challenge — one he was all too eager to pursue.

  “The red Harvard Law tag on your briefcase is a perfect match to your lipstick, and you wear the same one every time you go to court. Not because you’re superstitious the way most lawyers are, but because it’s your way of maintaining control in the courtroom, something you’re desperate to keep in every aspect of your life, personal and professional. I would guess that this need goes back to late high school, early college. But you’ve been worried about appearances and how you’re perceived for even longer than that.”

  You fought the urge to roll your eyes. So he thought you were Type A? Anybody could have guessed that by your anything. All they would have to do is look at your color coded case files or your daily schedule, planned down to the minute. You had only been trying to sway the jury when you insinuated that he wasn’t a good profiler, but maybe you were actually starting to believe it yourself.

  Except Aaron got a dangerous glint in his eye, causing your stomach to bubble with anxiety. Clearly, he was playing chess, too, and by the looks of it, he believed he was winning. 

  “In fact, you’re so worried about losing control, that despite your busy schedule, you refuse to hire a planner for your upcoming wedding.”

  That got your attention. The objection that you were about to call died on your lips, and all you could do was stare with poorly hidden shock. Next to you, Marcus turned pale as a ghost.

  Aaron, cocky bastard, continued his profile of you, with no clear signs of stopping anytime soon. “You have a tan where your ring usually is, and I know you’ve been wearing it recently as you subconsciously fiddle with where it would be whenever things in court aren’t going your way. Just like you’re doing now. You still have your maiden name, which you plan on giving up when you do get married because not taking his last name would arouse too many questions that you want to avoid. Just another way your concern of appearances is manifested. So you’re engaged.

  “I would say congratulations, but it’s not a happy relationship, not on your side, anyway. Younger female professionals will take their rings off in fear of not being taken seriously, but you’re an established and respected lawyer. You needn't worry about that. So if it’s not about you, it’s about the fiance. You don’t want to be associated with him.”

  You gripped the edge of the table, too angry to form words. Your nails dug into the varnish, and you were sure that your heavy breathing could be heard from across the room. This dick. This absolute, garbage, piece of shit dick. The worst part was how casual he sounded as he aired all of your dirty laundry for everybody to hear.

  “He’s holding you back, in all aspects of life, but mostly intellectually. He doesn’t have a sliver of your capabilities. The two of you are probably high school sweethearts, prom king and queen type, but while you grew up and matured, he never did. He can’t keep up with you. Still acts the same way he did in high school, only now with more access to alcohol and money. Career wise, he doesn’t have much going for him, probably some sports related pipe dream. But you stay with him because you know how to control him and how to use him to your advantage.”

  Aaron’s eyes zeroed in on Marcus, and all of the color drained from your face. The voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you to object, to get the judge involved, anything, before Aaron did any more damage, but you were frozen in your spot. For the first time in your life, you were completely and utterly speechless and spiraling out of control.

  “That need for control is also why you’re sleeping with your assistant. It’s casual for you, but not for him anymore. You should break that off. That’s nothing new for you, though. In fact, I would bet that if we looked back at all of your affairs since your engagement, we’d find a long string of men and women, all of whom are your subordinates or of lower status than you. It’s a win-win situation — they’re more than eager to have a chance with you, and you get to stay in control. Oh, you’ll stop when you actually get married, but you continue to push that date back, as well. So…”

  He leaned back in his chair, clearly feeling good about himself, and God, you could kill him. You could reach over the witness box and wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze until his whiskey colored eyes popped out of his smug, beautiful face.

  Aaron lifted his chin, eyebrows raised in your direction. “Do you believe in my abilities as a profiler now, Counselor?”

  That snapped you back into action. You cleared your throat and unnecessarily smoothed down your skirt in an attempt to regroup your thoughts. “Well, Agent Hotchner, thank you for that little show and tell. It’s clear that you are very passionate about your career. However, just like your profile of my client, you have no evidence for any of your unsubstantiated accusations.”

  It was a pathetic attempt at saving face, and Aaron knew it, but it had to be enough for you. You turned your back towards Aaron so that you could face the judge, who, to her credit, had a perfect poker face the whole time. “Your Honor, I move to strike Agent Hotchner’s outburst” — not an outburst, Aaron was too composed to ever have one of those, but he grimaced at the word all the same — “from the record, as no question stands before the witness at this time.”

  The judge looked at you dubiously, clearly debating her ruling. There shouldn’t have been any reason to worry, you were legally in the right, but there was always the chance that she wouldn’t be on your side. You noticed yourself fiddling with where your engagement ring would usually be, and you cursed yourself under your breath. How could Aaron have possibly known all of that?

  “Sustained,” she said finally, “I direct the jury to disregard the witness’s, uh, example when considering the evidence.”

  You let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t much of a win — everybody still heard what had happened, it was still in the back of their minds, like the ring of a bell echoing — but at least in regards to the case, you had the legal upper hand.

  The judge turned back to you. “Defense, the witness is still yours, if you have any further questions.”

  If you were a little more in your right mind, you would have cut your losses, but between your oath to defend your client to the best of your ability and that stupid self assured grin on Aaron’s face, you knew that you really had no choice.

  Deep breath in… Slow breath out… You’re at a stalemate now.

  “Agent Hotchner,” you said, causing him to perk him up in interest. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting you to continue. “Wouldn’t an ex-lawyer and an FBI agent be familiar with the rules of decorum in a courtroom?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand your question, Counselor.”

  “Let me rephrase, then. Would you say that you have a history of emotional outbursts and rule breaking in your line of work? And I’ll remind you that you are still under oath.”

  Aaron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, I wouldn’t. Integrity is one of our core values, and we take that very seriously.”

  With shaking hands, Marcus handed you one of the files you’d had him print out on Aaron. “If that’s so, can you explain why, since your promotion to Unit Chief in 2005, you and your team have had seven disciplinary hearings, one of which being an internal investigation into the excessive force used by one of your agents, and another being a congressional hearing?”

  A sick sense of satisfaction passed over you when you saw him get visibly shocked, his poker face breaking for the first time that day. If he wanted to go for blood, you could fight back twice as hard. “I’m not at liberty to discuss either of those cases.”

  You shrugged nonchalantly. “Very well, Agent. So between the discrepancies in the profile, your inability to control your temper, and your history of breaking procedure, coupled with the fact that you arrested my client without any warrant by kicking in the door to an innocent civilian’s house, do you really believe that your arrest and the subsequent evidence that came from that arrest was obtained legally? Or do you just not care either way, as long as you’re able to prove that you’re right?”

  Right as he opened his mouth to speak, you turned your back on him and started to walk back to your table. Aaron wasn’t even able to get a peep out before you cut him off with a sharp “Question withdrawn. At this time, the defense rests.”

  “Our arrest was made on the grounds of—” Aaron tried, and you smirked to yourself. He must have been desperate if he was trying that move twice. You whipped around, gaze steeled.

  “I have no further questions, Agent Hotchner,” you repeated, only letting out the slightest hint of amusement. “But thank you for your cooperation with Lady Justice today.”

  Aaron’s eyes met yours, and a weight settled in the pit of your stomach. You should have hated him, but something about him had you completely and utterly entranced by him. Maybe it was the novelty of the case. Maybe it was the matching intellects and the fact that he was the only other person who could give you a challenge.

  Maybe you just liked the way you got to lose control with him.

  As he passed you, his arm brushed yours, and your whole body burned.

  “Very cute, Counselor,” he whispered, voice dripping with condescension. “How long did it take you to come up with that little switch up?”

  “Don’t patronize me,” you snapped. “I was playing chess, you were playing checkers, and that’s why you lost.”

  The rest of the session went on normally, if not a little tense. To your surprise, Aaron hadn’t left immediately after his testimony, and instead took a seat in the section for the public. Good. As soon as courtroom decorum wasn’t a factor, you were sure to give him a piece of your mind.

  Court adjourned for the day, and you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. You told Marcus to continue to push for a better plea option as you grabbed your briefcase and stormed out, pushing through the throngs of people until you could see the back of Aaron’s head.

  You sped up your steps until you were right behind him, and you grabbed his wrist to stop him in his tracks. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

  You pulled Aaron into an empty conference room, hoping to get some privacy before you completely blew your lid. You already had one public humiliation because of him, and you did not need another.

  “What is your problem?” you hissed, locking the door behind you. “You had no right to put my personal life on blast like that.”

  Aaron placed his hands on his hips, swooping the sides of his suit jacket back, and you had to make a very conscious effort to not stare. “You questioned my profiling abilities, and I proved them.”

  “You didn’t prove shit,” you argued, folding your arms across your chest. “Except for the fact that you’re an insufferable bastard.”

  “Are you saying that my profile was off? Because if you didn’t want to be caught committing adultery, then you shouldn’t have made it so obvious.”

  You gritted your teeth and took a step towards him in a futile attempt to come across as intimidating. Even in your heels, he still seemed to be towering over you. You’d have to level the playing field somehow. You gripped his tie and used it to pull him down so that he was closer to eye level with you. “I don’t need your judgment, Aaron.”

  Aaron moved closer to you, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His Adam's apple bobbed and it captivated you. “I couldn’t care less about what you do,” he said flippantly. “Matter of fact, I don’t think this fit of anger is even inherently about your little secret coming out. Do you want to know what I think it is?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I think,” he continued, completely ignoring your protest, “You’re angry because as much as you can dish it out, you can’t take it.”

  Your grip on his tie tightened at his words. “Trust me, I can take anything,” you said, voice low and breathy.

  Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips — those kissable, red stained lips of yours. You hadn’t had to reapply your lipstick once throughout the day, and he idly wondered just exactly what it would take to muss up that perfect, pouty red lip. 

  “I also think that for the first time in a very long time, you didn’t have control, and you liked it.” He bent down a little bit more so that his lips brushed against your ear with every word and you could feel his breath run down your spine. “Aren’t you bored of sleeping with boys who are so far beneath you?”

  You’re not sure who initiated it, but the next thing you knew, your lips crashed against his, the two of you making out like it was the last kiss either of you were ever going to get. His hands felt impossibly everywhere all at once — gripping your hips, tugging at your hair, and even snaking under your work blouse to palm at your breast. His teeth nipped at the fibres of your lips. With every movement of his hands, little gasps escaped you, and you could feel the curve of his lips curling up into a smirk.

  His fingers trailed up the side of your body, past the curve of your neck, and tangled themselves in your hair before yanking it back, exposing the column of your throat. Immediately he attached his lips to your neck, nipping at your pulse point.

  “Aaron,” you whined, trying to regain the breath he stole from your lungs. You practically melted in his arms, going completely weak at the knees, especially as his tongue trailed across the underside of your jaw. You let his tie fall from your grip, instead bringing your hands up to cup his face to pull him in for another kiss. 

  His lips set a bruising pace, and it caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach. You had never once been kissed like this, never once felt so all-consumed by a person. Aaron’s cologne surrounded you, making your head spin. Bruises were sure to form from how harshly he was gripping your hips, but you didn’t care. He was addicting, and you wanted more.

  Hotch walked you backwards until you were pressed up against the wall, his thigh shoved in between your legs, forcing your skirt to ride up. The position made his arousal obvious as he pressed against you. The way he held you was possessive, primal even, Unconsciously, you ground down on his thigh, hoping for anything to help relieve the ache between your legs. 

  Unfortunately for you, Aaron caught on to what you were trying to do, and he chuckled against your lips before pulling away just far enough to speak. “Look at you,” he whispered, and the raspiness of his voice only served to turn you on even more. He hooked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and his thumb traced your bottom lip, tugging at it ever so slightly. His other hand slowly trailed its way up your thigh, nails scratching at your skin. “Skirt hiked up around your waist, desperate to get off. Your little boyfriends aren’t doing it for you anymore?”

  He pressed his thigh further into you, ripping an involuntary moan from your throat. “Fuck,” you gasped, your hips still moving back and forth against him, not caring how needy it made you seem. “I need… I…”

  “What? Big, bad lawyer doesn’t have any more smart ass comments?” he cooed sarcastically, pushing your skirt up even higher. He replaced his thigh with his hand, and his fingers ghosted over your covered pussy, teasing you, not giving you nearly enough contact. “Fuck, you’re so wet already. Go ahead, needy girl, if you’re that desperate.” Aaron yanked down your panties in one fell swoop, and you blindly kicked them off to the side. “Be a good girl and show me how much you want this.”

  Without any more of a warning, one of his fingers entered you, and you let out a breathy moan that Aaron was sure to have on repeat in his mind for days to come. When the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your brain completely short circuited. You threw your head back as far as you could despite being pressed against the wall as his name clumsily tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, pressing you further against the wall. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

  Electricity coursed through your veins as he added a second finger, easily finding that spot in you that made you see stars. You rocked your hips back and forth against his hand, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. His lips trailed from your jawline, down your neck, and to your collarbone. 

  “Look at me,” Aaron ordered, tightening his grip on your chin, and your eyes shot right back open. Instead of the whiskey colored irises you had gotten used to, Aaron’s pupils were so blown that they made his eyes completely black. “I want to see you lose control all over me. Gonna make sure you come harder for me than you have for any of your boy toys.”

  That wouldn’t be very difficult. Nobody had ever made you feel the way you did then, Aaron’s fingers buried deep in your cunt and lips exploring every inch of skin he could access. No part of this was for his pleasure — from the curl of his fingers to the slow circles on your clit, it was all expertly calculated to bring you to the edge with as much intensity as possible, and it was all devastatingly effective.

  “I’m so close,” you whimpered, and if it weren’t for the wall behind you, you would have completely lost your balance. “More, fuck, please.”

  “More?” he mumbled against the column of your throat. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

  Coherent sentences were not an option for you at the moment, not when you were so deliciously overwhelmed with pleasure and with Aaron. Besides, how could you tell him that you wanted him to completely and utterly ruin you? That you wanted him to bend you over the conference table and pound into you until you could barely speak. You wanted Aaron to mark you and send you home to your fiance with reminders of every little thing he did to you for the days to come. You wanted raw and untamed passion. You wanted to be consumed, for him to settle in your lungs like smoke, and haunt your dreams for the rest of your life. 

  You didn’t want nice and calculated the way every other man you’d been with had acted — you wanted Aaron Hotchner to take control.

  You couldn't say any of that, so instead, you grabbed his wrist, the one that was holding your chin in place and, without breaking eye contact with him, you guided his hand down until it rested on your throat. “More,” you choked out, giving him an animalistic grin.

  That was all it took. Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you in for another kiss, messy and desperate and swallowing all of your incoherent moans as his fingers moved harder, faster.

  You clung to him like a lifeline as you felt your whole body tense up, your orgasm fast approaching. You were so fucking close and he felt so fucking good and, God, if this is what losing control felt like, then you and Aaron could do this forever and —

  His fingers were gone from you, and you clenched around nothing. You cried out in protest, which only seemed to amuse him.

  “Oh? Prom queen isn’t used to not getting what she wants?” Keeping his hand on your throat and you pinned against the wall, he made slow, teasing work of his belt buckle.

  Your chest rose and fell in a desperate attempt to catch your breath. “What happened to watching me come undone all over you?” you shot, trying to even out your voice as much as possible. It didn’t work very well. “Did you lose your nerve?”

   A dark, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Don’t worry, Princess, that’s still the plan. I just never said where. I want to make sure you’re nice and wet and ready for me to turn you into a moaning mess on my cock.”

  In an attempt to regain some control of the situation, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah? And how do you expect to do that?”

  He smirked and released your throat. Wordlessly, he grabbed your wrist, and guided your hand down your body, further and further until you reached your throbbing pussy. He used his hands to press your fingers to your clit, and you whimpered softly. God, you were dripping, and the extra stimulation didn’t help your shaking legs.

  “By making you so needy and whiny that by the end of this, you're begging for me,” he hissed, lips brushing the shell of your ear with every word. He moved your fingers so that you were rubbing small, slow circles around your clit, although it wasn’t nearly enough to give any real relief. “Begging for me to come and fuck you over and over and over again. Because you know that your pathetic fiance and your string of affairs have never made you feel like this before.”

  Aaron yanked your hand away from your clit and you could sob. You wanted to cum so badly that you could barely put it into words. Still holding your wrist, Aaron brought your hand up to his face. He took a brief moment to admire the way your fingers glistened, covered in your arousal, before bringing them to his lips and sucking.

  Eyes wide, you made a choked noise as you committed the view of Aaron to memory. “Please, Aaron, fuck, I need you,” you whined, the start of a long string of incoherent begging. You needed him then and there, damn the consequences.

  He pulled your fingers out of his mouth slowly, and you moaned at the obscene wet noise it made. “So desperate,” he murmured as he began to unbutton his slacks. “All for me. All because I edged you once.”

  Aaron pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his dick, and you licked your lips involuntarily when you saw it, big and thick and leaking precum. Clearly, it gave Aaron a bit of an ego boost, because as he ran the head up and down your sensitive folds, he reminded you, “You did say you could take anything, Princess.”

  Your breathing came out shaking as you shivered, waiting for him to do something — anything. You were so empty and you needed him so badly. If you didn’t get his dick in you soon, you were pretty sure you would lose your mind completely.

  “Fuck me, Aaron,” you moaned, arching your back to press into him more.

  He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips in an almost intimate gesture. “Patience is a virtue,” he chastised.

  In your haze of arousal, you barely noticed him grabbing your briefcase and digging through the small pocket in the front. You especially didn’t notice his pause when his finger touched something small, round, and metal in the bottom of the bag. The only thing you cared about was him coming back to you, holding up a condom packet with a smirk.

  “I knew I’d find one somewhere in your briefcase.” You let the comment slide, the excitement at the prospect of sex with Aaron Hotchner outweighing any jackass comment he could make. Aaron made quick work of putting on the condom. The second he was done, one of his hands ran up your thigh, getting a good grip on it before pulling it up and around his waist.

  “Do you feel how wet you are for me? How willing you were to give up control? All for me? That—” Lips pressed to your ear, he pushed his cock into you, bottoming out with one thrust. You threw your head back in pleasure. “—Is playing chess, sweetheart.”

  Aaron dropped his forehead to the crook of your neck as he began pounding into you at a desperate pace. He had held off on his own pleasure for long enough, and now he was chasing his orgasm with a ruthless determination. One hand stayed gripping your thigh, the other one braced against the wall next to your head. Aaron nipped at your neck in between moans of praise for you.

  “I — oh, fuck — knew it,” he groaned, digging his fingers deeper into your thigh. “You wanted somebody to take control. Somebody who knows how to please you.”

  You wrapped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You were an incoherent mess at this point, his name tumbling from your lips like it was the only thing you knew how to say. At that moment, it probably was. 

  “Finally, that bratty mouth of yours is good for something. You sound so pretty, moaning out my name. Say it again.” A particularly deep thrust caused you to tug at his hair. “Louder.”

  Never before had you met somebody like Aaron Hotchner, and you weren’t sure if you ever would again, so you screwed your eyes shut and let yourself get lost in the absolute pleasure he was providing. You memorized everything you could — the way the calluses on his hands felt against your skin, the way he moaned out your name, how deliciously full you felt, and how for the first time in your life you felt truly seen — so that you could suspend the moment in amber to preserve in the back of your mind.

  “Please,” you begged, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails. “I’m so close. Fuck, Aaron, you feel so good, please.”

  Aaron tore his lips from your throat, choosing instead to press his forehead against yours. His lips brushed yours with every word he spoke, so close that you were practically kissing him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured. “Be a good girl. Be a good girl and come. All over my dick.”

  When you came, it was with a cry of his name as your whole body shuddered. You clung to him as he continued to fuck you. His thrusts began to stutter, and he took the opportunity to capture your lips in one last, scorching kiss, and you were all too happy to oblige.

  You think he moaned something as he came, but you couldn’t hear it over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. He fucked you through his orgasm, making sure that you felt every single inch of him. As if you could ever forget it. 

  The two of you stayed where you were for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of being full a little longer. Your walls fluttered around Aaron, which caused him to muffle his whimpers into your throat.

  “Aaron…” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the moment. “That was so—”

  “I know.”

  “We shouldn’t have done it.”

  “I know.” He pulled back just enough to leave a lingering kiss on your lips, and your whole body burned. “But I don’t regret it. Do you?”

  You shook your head. “Not at all.” The confession lingered in the hair for a tense second because both of you seemed to remember where you were.

  Aaron slowly pulled out of you, an act that looked almost painful for him when you let out an involuntary moan at the feeling. He could have spent all day in you, if given the chance.

  The two of you adjusted yourselves in silence, both of you hoping to be able to leave the room with some semblance of professionalism. At the very least, the goal was to not look like you had just had sex in a courthouse conference room. Shame and embarrassment flooded you — what had you been thinking?

  Once you felt that you were presentable enough, you grabbed your briefcase and tried to ignore Aaron burning a hole in the back of your head with his gaze.

  “Well, Aaron, this was fun.” You cleared your throat. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around at some point.”

  You were two steps away from the door when you heard his smug, courthouse voice come back in full swing.

  “Forgetting something?”

  You turned around in a huff, ready to go right back to arguing with him, but what you saw made your whole body heat up in embarrassment. There was Aaron with a self-satisfied grin and dangling off his finger was your panties.

  “These are cute,” he mused. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to fully appreciate them.”

  You rushed over there, fully prepared to snatch them out of his hand. “And you never will,” you shot, but even as you said it, you didn’t make much of an effort to take them out of his hands. You just stared at him and his swollen lips and mussed hair, all your doing.

  Ever the gentleman, Aaron started to hand your underwear back to you, but instead of taking it back like you knew you should have done, you covered his hand with yours, closing it in a fist around your panties.

  “Who says you can’t?” you whispered, guiding his pantie-filled hand down to his pockets. “This way… You can keep it as collateral. To make sure I’ll come and see you again.”

  His breath hitched in his throat as you guided him to put your panties into his suit pocket, and you were glad to be the one surprising him this time.

  “I don’t care about your fiance,” Aaron started, and you braced yourself for the worse. “But I’m not interested in being the ‘other man’ to your affairs with your assistants, too.”

  “Consider it ended,” you promised, not caring how desperate or easy it made you look. You wanted to keep Aaron around for a long, long time.

  Just until the wedding, you corrected yourself.

  You slung your briefcase over your shoulder, wincing as it dug into a bruise that Aaron had left. It would be there for a while — you’d have to find a way to hide it from Tony until it faded. The thought made you stupidly giddy. “I’ll see you around, Aaron.”

  He nodded in goodbye, and you slipped out of the conference room on shaking legs. As soon as the door closed behind you, you reached into your bag, and reluctantly slipped on your engagement ring.

[butwhyduh]

Hair Bows

Roy Harper x batsis!reader

Summary: a date turned into a play date turned into work. Basically Lian taking over Titans tower. And canon has no home here.

“I’m just about to head out the door,” you said over the phone, still doing your hair. Roy wasn’t the most punctual guy and this was your way of coping. If you were also always late, it didn’t bother you as much.

“Wait,” Roy said and you heard a muffled sound like him running his hand down his face. “I can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“My babysitter punked out at the last minute so I can’t leave Lian. I’m sorry,” he said.

“Oh, uhhh, bring her,” you suggested, hopefully sounding casual. You’d met her a few times but nothing big and your date was just a walk in the park. Nothing a kid couldn’t do. And you were hoping to be a little more seriously dating.

“Seriously?... on a date?” He asked.

“Not if you don’t want to. But I just thought we were going to the park and we can let her run around. You know what? Never mind, if you need to stay home it’s cool. I don’t know anything about kids-“

“Hey, it’s a good idea,” he said stopping your ramble. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Most people don’t want someone else’s kid on their date.”

“Most people shouldn’t date people with kids if they can’t be around them,” you answered, finishing up. “Now am I meeting you both at the park or..”

“Now I know why I’m dating you,” Roy said and you could hear the smile through the phone. “I’ll pick you up. Lian’s not a fan of riding in other people’s car so Uber is out.”

“Can’t blame her. See you soon,” you answered.

——————————

You had changed into a slightly less sexy and more family friendly top and sensible shoes by the time Roy picked you up. Can’t chase a kid in heels.

Roy looked nice in a button down and jeans with no holes in them. Not a trucker hat in sight. And of course, Lian was a doll in a spring themed dress and leather bottomed sandals. The first thing she showed you was an impressively high kick.

“And it’s okay because dad makes me wear shorts under it. For taking out punks,” she said knowingly. You nodded.

“For punks. Good idea.”

“In case they get fresh,” Roy said to you as she ran to a slide.

“Fresh? She’s 5. Maybe Lian should teach me that move. I know this guy that’s always trying to get fresh,” you said as he wrapped an arm around your waist from behind and rested his head on your shoulder.

“Hmmm, should I kick his ass,” Roy said playfully.

“I’d pay to see you kick your own ass,” you said with a laugh.

“Ouch, and I thought you liked me,” he said, sounding dramatically wounded. You laughed again.

“The entertainment value tho. Hard to beat.”

“So many ‘hard to beat’ jokes I would make right now,” he whispered in your ear and you pulled out of his arms. You were rolling your eyes but the grin ruined the disapproving air you were trying to have.

“Not that kinda date,” you reminded him and as if on cue, Lian ran over to Roy and grabbed his hand. She started dragging him to a food truck.

“Can we get a funnel cake? Or ice cream? Or a hotdog?” She asked excitedly.

“Hotdog and then ice cream on top of a funnel cake,” he said in a mock serious tone as he bent down beside her. She grinned widely. “We aren’t animals!” She squealed and dragged him to food truck.

You grinned as you watched them. Roy had fucked up a ton but this was not one of those times. Nope, he was a great dad. He looked back at you confused as why you hadn’t joined them and you jogged over to them.

“Sorry, just lost in thought,” you said as they made your food. Roy had a hand casually around your waist as Lian tried to swing on his other arm.

“Bout what?” He asked.

“How good a dad you are,” you admitted. He gave you a shy crooked smile before kissing your forehead.

“You bats are always in your head too damn much. But thanks,” Roy ended softly. He handed Lian a giant hotdog that she promptly started eating before giving you your food and he his. “Let’s find a spot to sit before you drop that giant hotdog.”

As Lian licked sticky sweet ice cream coated funnel cake pieces off of her arm, Roy’s phone went off. He smiled apologetically before getting up to answer it. A few minutes later he came back to the table looking even more apologetic.

“Titans business. I have to go but...” he started, running a hand through his red hair. “I don’t have a babysitter.”

“I could watch her,” you suggested and Lian looked up at him kinda sad. “I could watch her at the tower. You’d be right there but we’d stay out of the way.”

“You sure? That isn’t too much?” He said unsure, looking between you both.

“Yeah, I’ve watched kids before. And I know the tower really well. We’ll watch movies and fall asleep. Do you want a sleep over?”

“Yeah! Go on dad, I’m fine,” she said waving a hand at him. You both laughed. “Dads,” Lian said rolling her eyes playfully. Yep, she’s Roy’s alright. “Do you have popcorn?”

“Yep!”

“Candy?”

“Yep! And I know where my brother Tim keeps the good imported stuff,” you said and she grinned.

“Not too much. Or staying up too late. Or anything scary or too grown up,” Roy said on the way to the tower. “And if anything happens. Anything. Get to the panic room.”

“I know the procedures,” you said putting a hand on his shoulder. “And I can keep her safe. Don’t worry. We’ll have fun.”

“And I can kick punks!” Lian said proudly.

“And she’ll kick punks! I’m hoping she hits Gar first. Did you know he can turn into any animal? He just chooses to be a punk,” You said and she giggled.

“Wow!”

“Alright. No kicking punks unless it’s really important because-“

“My body is a weapon. I know, dad,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Roy repeated the same sort of things up in the living quarters of the tower before giving you both a kiss. “Stay safe,” he said before going downstairs.

Some of the younger Titan recruits didn’t leave on the mission and were hanging out or training. You walked Lian over to the couch and went to find a movie she might like. You dusted off the dvds they had. Probably hadn’t added any new ones in many years with the extensive funding of Batman giving them every streaming service ever.

“How about this movie,” you asked, holding up a sun bleached dvd case. “Space jam?”

Lian looked at it carefully before nodding. You put it in the player and came back. “What about popcorn? Dad says movies are crap without it.”

“Oh,” you said. “Right. I’ll make some.”

“Popcorn?” Came a voice around the corner before the next you saw was a wind of red. “Hey kiddo,” Bart aka impulse said to Lian before shaking her hand. “Let’s pick a movie. There are some pretty good ones I haven’t seen. I’ve seen 12 movies.”

“Only 12,” she frowned skeptically and you took the opportunity to go in the kitchen and make popcorn.

“Hey, did you let Lian have speedster piggy back rides,” Tim aka Robin said ducking his head in the kitchen.

“No,” you said quickly running in the living area quickly. “Okay, enough of that. I don’t think her dad would be cool with this,” you said pulling her off of him. She pouted a little.

“Why does it smell like fire,” Cassie asked from the hall and you hurried back in the kitchen to see a flaming bag turning in the microwave. Before you could do it say anything, Bart opened the microwave and tossed the bag into the sink where the sponge lit on fire. Lian shrieked and you jumped up turn on the water to put them both out.

“That popcorn smells ewwie,” Lian noted. You sighed and pinched your brow. This is fine.

“I’ll make more and you go pick out a movie. And nothing else,” you emphasized.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bart said with a salute. Tim winced.

“Sorry, he’s a lot.”

“One minor kitchen fire is not too bad. Have you heard from the mission?” You asked as you cooked the popcorn.

“Not yet. But no news is usually good news,” he reminded you and you nodded. That’s what Roy always said. You grabbed the bag and went in the living room to see an entire hot pink tackle box filled with every kind of hair tie and bows and baubles. Bart was sitting on the floor and Lian was currently tying a bright yellow bow in his huge mass of red hair.

“She wanted to do his hair so I got my stuff,” Cassie said.

“She’s a natural. She doesn’t rip out half as much hair as Cassie,” Bart said with a grin. You sat on the couch near them and started the movie as the popcorn passed around.

Halfway through the movie, Tim’s phone goes off. He looks at it and frowns. “Alright guys, we got to suit up.” They grumble but get up. Bart does a quick shake that reminds you of a dog and all the bows vibrated out of his hair. Lian laughed and tried to catch them as they fell out.

“Lian, give me just a minute to talk to Tim,” you told her and she nodded before putting a red barrette in Cassie’s hair. You walked in the kitchen with Tim.

“Is everything okay? Dick? Roy?” You asked quietly.

“I’m not sure. We’re just being called in. I’ll try and let you know more,” he said. You nodded and hugged your baby brother.

“Be safe out there.”

“Always.”

Lian was sitting on the couch as the cartoon played and she had moved on to putting bows on the fuzzy blanket on the couch. She yawned as she put bows in your hair and you looked at the time. It was probably close to bed time for her.

“Lian, do you want to lay down while watching your movie?”

She yawned again and nodded. “Yeah, dad will be home late again, hu? Work?” She was pretty used to his hero duty.

“Yeah, but I’m here.”

“Yeah, you’re here,” she said before laying on you. You froze for a second before feeling your heart warmed. She rubbed her popcorn greasy face into your shirt before getting comfortable. After a short while she was asleep and you pulled out your phone to take her photo.

You wanted to send Roy the photo but didn’t dare disturb him. You kept worrying about him and Dick and now even Tim as they fought. Why had they needed the back up? Were they hurt? In too deep? You had a hard time doing anything but worry.

Lian turned in her sleep and all but pinned you to the couch with her little fists gripping your shirt. You pulled the blanket over her. You tried to stay awake but once it hit 2 am and you were trapped on a couch with no lights on, you fell asleep.

Around 4 am, the team wandered in the tower slowly. They hushed one another as they saw you and Lian on the couch. Roy came in and stopped to look. He took out his phone and took a bunch of pictures of you both with a smile before he hobbled to the medical bay to be cleaned and patched up.

“Hey,” he whispered while gently tapping your shoulder a little while later. You woke up blinking in the light. “I’m going to carry her to the car. Are you coming?”

“Oh, yeah,” you whispered back. Roy carefully pulled the little girl off of you and she clung to his shirt in sleep. He grabbed his bag of gear as you got up with a stretch. You waved bye to everyone before leaving.

Halfway down the road, Roy turned to you. “She really seemed comfortable on you.”

“Yeah, she climbed up herself. I was a little surprised. I guess I didn’t mess up tonight,” you said with a little self deprecating laugh.

“Nah, you did great. I had to hear all about it from the kid heroes on the way back. The hair bows was genius,” he said. The car quietly pulled in his driveway.

“That was Cassie. And when Lian saw all of Bart’s hair her eyes went wide like a cat at a ball of yarn,” you laughed.

“Yeah, she’s a fan of long red hair. Ask me how I know,” he said shaking his hair and you laughed. Lian moved in her sleep.

“So she ripped out your hair so Bart’s could survive,” you said quietly.

“Something like that. Can you get the door,” he said before scooping Lian out of her car seat. You held the door as he carried her to her room and laid her in her toddler bed that currently had a Superboy blanket. She had just about any hero you could image in some product or another.

Roy met you in the kitchen. “Thanks, you know. For watching her today. I appreciate that,” he said. You tossed him a water bottle.

“Yeah, she’s awesome. We had fun,” you said, leaning on the counter with your elbows. Roy came up behind you and rubbed your shoulders.

“Not everyone is cool with dating a dad so thanks,” he said. You turned your head to look at him.

“Well, they are missing out. Got my own DILF,” you teased.

“Oh god, I’m a DILF,” Roy said with a hint of horror in his voice. “Speaking of ILF... I know someone I’d like to ILF,” he said kissing your neck and pressing himself against your back. His hands moved under your shirt and up to your chest. “Wanna take it to my room?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 1

... I have no self-control do not perceive me

Marinette stared at the pile of bright red, yellow, and green clothes on the ground. It was all she’d done in the five-ish minutes since she’d portaled onto the scene. Just… stared.

It wasn’t like there was much else to do, anyways. Red Robin was currently beating the absolute fuck out of the person that had the audacity to disintegrate his brother right in front of him. It wasn’t like she could even fix it because the witch had been out cold before she had been able to pull Red Robin off to get a hit in so she could use her lucky charm.

So, she stared.

It was weird. She could almost feel a person inside the clothes but… maybe that was the residue or the ashes or whatever gets left behind when you zap a person out of existence? She didn’t really want to check, to be honest. Gross.

Eventually, though, she hesitantly leaned down and brushed her hand over it, trying to find the energy and get rid of it because it was really uncomfortable --.

… oh hell no that pile of clothes did not just fucking giggle at her.

She narrowed her eyes and carefully lifted up the bottom of the shirt, only to yelp and fall back. She scrabbled on the gross Gotham alley ground until her back hit Red Robin’s arm and he was forced to pause or risk hitting a meta (which would not have been good for his health).

“What?” He hissed.

She swallowed thickly. “That’s a child.”

“... what?” Red asked, all the anger bleeding from his tone in his confusion.

“We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby,” she whispered… then, it sunk in more. “We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby.”

He straightened on top of the thing that was really more bloody pulp than person at this point. “What do you mean ‘we let Batman’s kid turn into a baby’?”

But she didn’t really get a chance to answer because the baby chose that exact moment to be sick of being suffocated under all the armor and pushed it off.

Red Robin gulped. Because, yep, that was Robin as a baby. Batman was going to kill them.

Except he wasn’t going to kill them. Because Batman doesn't kill. No, Batman would find something even worse and that would suck.

The baby -- Robin? Should she still call him that mentally? -- giggled at their pain. Like an asshole.

They were so fucked.

~

He’d let B’s favorite kid get turned into a baby. Was there a way to get unadopted? Because if there was it was totally going to happen. Or maybe his dad would just cut him off because he was 19 now and could just get kicked out.

No. Nope! Not going to happen. No. He could fix this.

“Okay. Okay okay okay. We need a plan,” he heard himself saying.

Ladybug scoffed. “We? I was barely even here, this is on you.”

“Leave me alone to deal with this and I swear to god I will tell B that you did it.”

She paled. “You wouldn’t. No way.”

“Yes way. So, help me think of something.”

The baby giggled and started crawling over and both of them averted their eyes because, unfortunately, the child did not get baby clothes to go with his random transformation. Baby Damian didn't seem to care as he reached them and started climbing on Ladybug since she was closest. At least it wasn’t him. He did not want to see his adoptive brother’s… ew.

Ladybug made a gagging sound and then quickly summoned a lucky charm. She kept her face turned away as much as her neck would physically allow as she fumbled her way through swaddling the child in a polka-dotted blanket.

And then her shoulders slumped a little. “Great. Great. This is… great,” she muttered, picking up the bundle o’ baby.

He let himself look down now that it was safe.

“Alright, we need to go to another dimension where time moves faster,” Ladybug said after a few seconds. “And then we wait for him to age… fifteen-ish years. Best way to not make Batman notice.”

“... what about us? We also age.”

“Huh…? Oh. Right. You’re human.” She pulled off the glasses she was wearing and blinked a few times before handing it over. “Congrats on your upgrade. The tiny horse god is named Kaalki. She likes cake.”

“The tiny --?” He let out the world’s manliest screech as his eyes landed on the floating bug horse hybrid thing holy shit no no no no no the sci fi movies didn’t prepare him for this shit.

Kaalki looked a little offended but then her eyes landed on the baby and she gasped. “Aw, baby humans are always so cute.”

“Great, Kaalki, you take it,” said Ladybug.

Kaalki did try, to her credit. It just so happened that the approximately one-year-old baby was a lot bigger than the… whatever she was. Tim was refusing to believe that this was a god. Too many implications. He already had something to have a breakdown over, he didn’t need another thing right now, thank you very much.

Tim rested his head in his hands but he had more things to worry about than the blood that he was accidentally streaking through his hair.

“Okay. Okay. We can go to another dimension and try and raise him. Maybe we can make it have a ratio of one month here for every year there so any differences could be blamed on that.”

“Ya!” Said baby Damian. He probably didn’t actually know what was going on but he sure seemed excited so that was cool.

Ladybug sighed and nodded. “Great. You get food and money and clothes and I’ll take this lady to the cops… and I guess I’ll watch the kid until you get back because your dad cannot know.”

They shook on it.

~

This may be the dumbest idea that she’d ever had, and that was saying something. She didn’t know if she could trust Red Robin on this one, they hardly ever worked together. What if he just left her alone with this kid and let her try and figure this out on her own?

No. He wouldn’t do that. He was the last person known to be with Robin. Robin going missing would be bad for him, too. And, besides, she was pretty sure that he was a duty-driven person based on what she’d heard, she just had to hope that he saw this as his duty, too.

She turned the baby in her arms to get more comfortable as she waited for him to (hopefully) come back.

Part of her wanted to try and find someone from this world to reverse this but she didn’t know any outside of her, Adrien, Alix, and (now) Red Robin. Not on a personal level. Not enough that she knew for sure that they wouldn’t blab to Batman about it.

So, no, this is what she was doing.

But she had things to do. So, she pulled out her yoyo-phone-hybrid-thingy and wedged it against her ear.

“Chaton,” she said the moment he picked up. “You’re alone, right?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Great. I, Ladybug, relinquish the Miracle Box and name Chat Noir the new guardian.”

“WHAT --?!” He didn’t get to finish as a box dropped on his lap and knocked the wind out of him.

“Just for, like, a year and a half. Sorry. Bye!”

“DON’T JUST ‘BYE’ ME WHAT THE --?!”

She hung up and closed the yoyo, hooking it back to her belt and ignoring it when it started buzzing again.

She looked down at Robin, who was squinting up at her. She returned the squint. Why was this baby so quiet? She didn’t get it. Surely, he should have been crying at this point.

“Do you still… remember things?” She asked, hoping against all hope that maybe he had retained his memories at the very least.

Robin smiled at her, but it was the blank-eyed baby smile that meant he wasn’t really understanding her. She bit down a curse.

Great. So, she’d not only gotten a baby but she’d gotten a fucking weird one. Great.

~

Tim left a note for his family saying that he, Damian, and Ladybug were bored and were going dimension hopping. His family would probably be suspicious but, hey, at least it wouldn’t be his problem for a good fifteen years on his end.

And, yeah, he knew this was probably one of his dumber plans but… it wasn’t the dumbest. And he was always one to commit when it came down to it. One time he had faked being shot and dealt with crutches for an entire year just to convince Vicki Vale that he wasn’t Red Robin. He had no fears that he couldn’t see this through.

Ladybug, though? A total mystery. She did nearly everything on a whim as far as he knew. She hopped from city to city fighting crime for absolutely no reason outside of boredom and made up all of her plans on the fly. No, he was a bit concerned about her ability to keep doing it.

So, he went as quickly as he possibly could. There was no rhyme or reason to what he was grabbing. He was just… putting stuff in there. There was money and three watches to help them move between dimensions, yes, but there was also a fanta orange and a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and exactly seven pairs of socks.

… yeah, he had the necessities. Probably.

He nearly got out the door before he realized he was still in his crime-fighting gear and he quickly shucked it all off and tossed it into the tub so the blood wouldn’t track any more than it already had. He did not need to avoid Batman’s wrath only to end up on the receiving end of Alfred’s.

He pulled on the first hoodie and jeans he could grab and looked around to make sure he hadn’t left anything of importance.

Okay. Now he was ready to go.

~

Marinette was awkwardly bouncing the baby when Red Robin finally showed up.

… not that she would have recognized him if she hadn’t felt Kaalki hovering in his pocket. In her eyes, he was just a random white guy wearing shades in the middle of the night.

She glanced up at him and gave him an awkward smile.

“Ready?”

He smiled back and held out two watches. Neither fit baby Robin so she prepared herself to choke out a literal baby holy fuck what even was her life.

“Which dimension should we go to?”

“Preferably one without miraculi,” Marinette said. “I don’t want to know what happens if there’s two of the same god in a dimension.”

He nodded slowly. “Probably best if Batman doesn’t exist, either, he’d probably notice my existence.”

“... so… no heroes at all?”

“Looks like we’re going cold turkey,” Red Robin said in a tone that was probably supposed to be joking but just came out flat.

She pushed herself to her feet and waited as he scrolled through the millions of dimensions.

Finally, he came upon one and she added the coordinates to her and Robin’s watches.

She readied Robin’s watch against his neck and tried to ignore the kid’s sudden squirminess.

“3… 2… 1…”

They were gone in a whirl of blue light.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 27: Princess (Royal/medieval AU)

AO3

Prev

The shrill akuma alarm wakes Marinette up the next morning and she sighs, rubbing her head gently before grabbing the bottle of painkillers that Dick had left next to her on the table.

“Don’t leave yet!” A voice calls from the other room. Marinette frowns, but listens, quickly taking a couple painkillers and letting herself wake up. Dick rushes into the room, nearly falling as he slides across the floor in his socks. He rushes over to her and kneels in front of her, staring into her eyes. She frowns.

“What are you doing?” She asks, too tired to try and comprehend what’s wrong with her brother right now.

“Checking your eyes and seeing how bad your concussion is so I know if I need to call Adrien to keep a closer eye on you for this fight.” Dick says, frowning slightly at something he sees. He reaches out and gently pushes a spot on her head and she hisses in pain.

“Hey, ya big jerk, that hurts!” She complains, giving him her best ‘Damian’ glare. He just rolls his eyes.

“This is serious kid, you got seriously injured last night.” Dick reminds her. She purses her lips.

“I know, and I promise I’ll take it easy later, but right now I really need to go.” She pleads. Dick sighs, but nods, standing up.

“Go kick some butterfly butt.” He says with a small grin. Marinette grins back at him, quickly calling her transformations and portaling away to Paris. She blinks in the bright sunlight, trying hard to push away any disorientation she has from the stupid concussion. I can do this, she thinks, glancing around to assess the situation. She frowns at her surroundings. She knew she was technically in Paris, she could see the Eiffel tower and Kaalki never misled her before. Well, not during an attack anyway. But where the giant modern buildings should be, there were small stone buildings with thatch roofs. Glancing around, she also notices a huge, stone castle where her school used to be. That should be fun.

“I am the Dark Knight, and I will not rest until I have Chat Noir and Ladybug’s Miraculous!” A voice shouts out above the rest of the noise. Marinette creeps over and just blinks at the fashion atrocity before her. She was going to slap Hawkmoth twice when she found him. Once, for terrorizing Paris for over a year. And again for the awful wardrobe choices he made. Seriously. And the Dark Knight? Isn’t that name trademarked, or something?

“Hey Bugaboo, what’s the plan?” Chat asks, landing beside her and leaning on his baton. She frowns.

“I don’t actually have one yet. I just got here.” She says, and this time he’s the one confused.

“But you always rush over.” He says, careful not to include anything about Kaalki. You never know who might be listening.

“I’ll explain later. Any idea where the object might be?” She asks, scanning the akuma. It’s power didn’t seem too awful. It had changed most of the structure in Paris, and now it was changing people’s clothes too when they got hit by the orange light. Some citizens were in what Marinette could only assume was the height of fashion during the Renaissance, whereas some citizens were draped in obvious “peasant” outfits. But there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for the difference. Just a difference.

“The satchel looks promising.” Chat says, and Marinette grins, a plan slowly taking hold in her mind. She’d just need two paper clips, a stick of gum and whatever her lucky charm was.

---

“Pound it.” Chat says holding out a fist. Marinette grins, returning the fist bump. “Did you have time to talk? You know, about why you were late?” Chat asks, and Marinette sighs but nods. They both recharge in an alley before swinging to sit on the top of the Eiffel tower.

“I fought an akuma alone, while you were out of town.” She says first, shrugging lightly. “I didn’t think about it, honest. I’d done it a million times before with Monsieur Pigeon. But the Bat got mad.” Marinette says, not wanting to risk calling him her dad while she’s masked in Paris. It just felt like it was asking for trouble.

“Cause you fought alone?” Chat asks, frowning.

“Well, that and I sort of jammed the Zeta tubes so that outsiders can’t come to Paris during an active akuma attack.” She mumbles under her breath, wincing at the noise Chat’s neck makes when he jerks around to stare at her dumbfoundedly.

“That’s insane. How’d you do it?” He asks and she simply grins.

“Spent enough time with Pegasus and Red Robin and Oracle. Add in a tiny bit of luck and boom. I win.” She smirks

“So you were late cause you’re grounded.” Chat says simply, a proud smile on his face as he thinks he cracked the code. Solved the mystery.

“Not quite,” Marinette says with a slight frown.

“Then what?” Chat asks. Marinette lets out a long sigh, glaring at Adrien to let him know she’s not happy about this situation, she does not want to talk to him about this. He’ll just get all worried.

“Well last night I was still benched from patrol because of the whole akuma attack thing but Tikki thought I should be ungrounded so I went out anyway and then the dude that stabbed me a couple months ago found me and the rest of the Batclan didn’t know that I was out so they couldn’t help me and I was all alone and then he knocked me out and I don’t really remember much except I woke up at Nightwing’s apartment and met Starfire and yeah that’s it.” She rambles, shooting him a smile and waving nonchalantly.

“I’m going to wrap you in bubble wrap. No, I’m going to make the Batclan do it.” Chat finally says, pulling out his baton.

“No, don’t! Batman doesn’t know. Neither does Hood or Red Robin. Only Nightwing and Robin know.” She says, swatting the baton out of his hand. The last thing she needed was for him to accidentally call her dad on her. She’d be in so much trouble.

“Geeze Bug.” Chat mutters under his breath, tugging her into a hug. She sighs and hugs him back, taking just a moment to relish being with her friend.

“I’m pretty sure Batman is narrowing down his Hawkmoth suspect list.” She mumbles, and Chat pulls back from her, staring into her face.

“Are you serious?” He asks, the relief on his face clear. Marinette nods, and Chat lets out a long sigh. One that Marinette could feel in her bones, because she was tired too. She also wanted to end this fight. Hopefully her dad would have a suspect soon.

---

Bruce Wayne was the world’s greatest detective. He had solved cases infinitely larger than this one, so he didn’t understand why he couldn’t find a damn lead on Hawkmoth. Actually, he understood perfectly. It was magic. God he hates magic. It’s unpredictable, and most of the time it’s more trouble than it’s worth. He sighs and sends a quick text to Dick, double checking that Marinette had made it back to his apartment okay. He knew his daughter was...upset with him for benching her and demanding she take someone with her to Paris. But they were all precautions, just to guarantee that nothing worse happened to her. She wasn’t invincible, no matter how much she seemed to think she was. He frowns at the text he receives back, quickly hitting call and waiting a few moments for Dick to pick up.

“Hel-”

“What do you mean she’s not at your place?” Bruce asks, not giving his eldest son a chance to talk.

“Well hi to you too, B.” Dick teases, and Bruce just knows he’s grinning. He lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Is she really not there? The akuma attack ended nearly twenty minutes ago and she’s not here either.” Bruce says, trying to think of where else she would go. Jason was even at the Manor, and hadn’t heard from her either.

“No, B, she’s not-” Dick pauses, then lets out a long sigh. “It’s B. He was wondering where you were.” He hears Dick say, and Bruce is surprised to hear his son’s tone. It was less carefree and more...like a father. He was a father, with Mar’i, but it was still odd to hear him use the tone on someone besides his granddaughter.

“I had to talk to Adrien.” He can barely hear her say and Bruce lets out a frustrated huff. Of course she was with the Agreste boy again. Honestly, he seemed nice enough until Selina pointed out the crushes that the two had on each other. Now, Bruce wanted nothing more than to lock him away. Far away.

“Can you please ask her if she’s coming home tonight?” Bruce finally says, listening to the silence on the other end. He wonders if they’d put the phone on mute or if Marinette was signing furiously the way he’d seen her do over a video call with Cass earlier in the week.

“We’re all coming. See you at dinner.” Dick says, hanging up almost fast enough for Bruce to not hear the protest from Marinette. Almost. Bruce walks to find Alfred, trying not to let the fact that his daughter doesn’t want to see him again get to him.

---

Marinette glares at her oldest brother as they walk into the manor. He just grins, acting as if he hadn’t practically forced her home. It’s not that she didn’t want to come home, but she knew she had a couple bruises and a lump on her head. She also knew that Damian was apparently barely holding himself back from hunting down Slade. She really didn’t need Tikki giving him any ideas.

“Welcome home, Miss Marinette. Would you like me to look at your injuries?” Alfred asks immediately walking towards her as he walks into the room. Marinette glances around, hoping her dad isn’t around before sighing.

“No thank you Alfred, I’m fine.” She reassures him, or she tries to. His face doesn’t look like he believes her.

“Yes, I’m certain a concussion is nothing to worry about. Especially since you’ve had so many.” He drawls, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Hey, whoa. You said this was your first concussion.” Dick says after urging Mar’i to fly off and find Jason or Damian or Tim. Marinette huffs.

“It is.” She says, crossing her arms.

“The concussions you sustain in the suit still count. Head injuries are not an exact science. Nor are they an exact magic cure, either. They often heal at an accelerated speed, but can still have long-lasting effects.” Alfred says and Marinette blinks. That was almost- Almost- information about the Miraculous. And only someone who knew about the Miraculous would know about the whole head injury thing. She blinks at him for a moment, running possibilities through her head. She sighs, realizing that if Alfred had been a holder, it was definitely for a Miraculous she didn’t have. She could just...feel it.

“I promise I’m fine, and if I start feeling any of those other concussion symptoms, I’ll come to you.” Marinette promises.

“And how did you get a concussion?” Her dad asks, practically materializing out of nowhere.

“Akuma attack. Miraculous cure can’t do a complete heal with concussions, it’s too, uh, dangerous. Not exact.” Marinette lies, trying hard not to do any of her tells. She doesn’t tense up, she doesn’t grin, she doesn’t look at someone else and giggle, nothing. She lies with a straight face, which honestly almost scares her more than getting yelled at by her dad. He just hums before nodding at her.

“Will you be staying here tonight? Most of us have patrol, but afterwards Tim suggested that we all watch a movie together.” Her dad says and Marinette tries hard to suppress her grin. There’s no way.

“Wow Tim, you really wanna have a full-family movie night?” She calls out, grinning at the surprised look on her brother’s face. Because of course her dad was the one to set it up, but of course he didn’t want anyone to know. “I think that’s super cool Tim. As long as we can watch some Disney princess movies.” She adds, laughing as Mar’i comes flying around the corner with wide eyes.

“Did someone say princess?” She squeals, flying straight into Marinette’s arms. Marinette grins at her niece and nods.

“Oh yes. Timmy has decided we’re gonna watch Disney princess movies as a family all night long!” She says, laughing as her niece cheers. She glances at her Dad and tries hard to hold back the snort that wants to come out at his exasperated look. Looks like it’s gonna be a Disney night for the Wayne household.

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