#My sweet Alfred. I just want to shake him and scream into his face that his time is not and could never be a waste.

[onlygetssmuttier]

Scream for me!

Synopsis: A young woman is home alone until she get’s a call from an unknown number. Ghostface forces his way inside to play a game of psycho killer, making her his helpless victim.

TW: CNC and knife play

The living room is dark, and the tv is on. Halloween is playing and the flicker of the tv lights up the dark room. The sofa is empty. The room unoccupied.

Vvvvvvv-vvvvvvvvv, vvvvvvvv-vvvvvvv.

The phone on the coffee table a mobile lights up. The phone rotates, eager to be picked up and held. A hand reaches out, and picks it up. Holly stands there with the phone in her hand, and a glass of red wine in the other, wondering who’s calling her at this time of night. It’s an unknown number, caller with held. Maybe it’s the Boogeyman.

She answers hesitantly. “Hello?” There’s a second of silence. She takes a sip of her wine, already over the prank call this obviously is. “Who is this?”

Then a voice. It’s strange, ominous, but sweet and playful. “Who do you think it is?” the voice responds.

Holly’s posture relaxes. “I don’t know… is this you Tommy?” She sits on the sofa.

“What makes you say I’m Tommy?”

“I don’t know, you said guess, and this seems like something he’d do. He’s an immature boy.”

“Well I’m not Tommy, Holly. ”

“You’re obviously someone who knows me. If you’re not Tommy, then who are you?”

“I can say I’m not an immature boy like Tommy.”

Holly rolls her eyes, “of course, really mature, if you’re not going to tell me why shouldn’t I just hang up?

“It’s more fun if you don’t know – don’t you know anything about mystery and suspense? The great Alfred Hitchcock was the master of it, you’ve heard of him haven’t you?”

“His-cock-what-now?”

“Hitchcock you, bitch!” He spits violently. “Don’t you watch any movies? Psycho, The Birds, Rear Window. You need to learn some respect.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s going to make me learn it, you? I don’t even know who you are or what you look like.”

Vvvvvv vvvvv. A message. Holly lowers her phone and opens the message from the unknown number. It’s a photo. It’s dark and low quality photo of a figure in a black cloak, and a Ghostface mask.

Holly leans back, eyebrow raised, bitting her lower lip. Raising the phone back up to her ear and puts her feet up on the coffee table, “you didn’t tell me you were a masked man,” she says seductively.

“Does that interest you, Holly?” She can’t see him, but she imagined he’s smirking under his mask on the other side of the phone. “Do you like a man in a mask?”

She lets out a nervous giggle, thinking about the photo, she raised her hand to hide her shy smile. “I’ve always had a thing for masked men! So maybe I do know something about enjoying a little mystery!”

“Oh yeah? Ever had a man have his way with you while he was wearing a mask, Holly?”

Holly blushes and shakes her head shyly, “no, I haven’t.”

The man on the phone laughs. It’s a low laugh – slightly menacing, but seductive.

“So what do I call you Mr?—”

“— Ghostface. You can call me Ghostface.”

“Ok, Mr Ghostface,” she relaxes back even more into the sofa with a smile on her face, taking a deep drink from her wine glass, “I wonder what you look like under the mask?”

“You should be more focused on what’s under my robes.”

“Oh?” Slightly surprised at the bluntness, but a little aroused. She smirks to herself, and slowly slides a hand between her legs. Her voice changes, sounding needy and helpless. “Do you have a large weapon you want to use on me?”

“You could say that, yes.”

“Are you going to get your weapon out for me? I can run my tongue along it, Mr Ghostface, if that’s something you’d like?” She closes her eyes and lets out a soft moan. Her hips start to move as she touches herself.

“Why don’t I come in and show you?”

Holly stops, snaps back to her senses and sits up rapidly.

“What did you just say?” She says with genuine fear.

“I said why don’t I come over and show you.”

“No, that’s not what you said.”

“What did you think I said?”

She turns towards the front door. She can’t remember if it’s locked. She downs the rest of the wine in the glass before putting it down on the coffee table, then she slowly gets up from the sofa and moves towards the door. She’s a metre away! KNOCK! KNOCK!

She freezes. From the phone in her hand at her side she hears his voice, “Holly, are you going to let me come inside?” She reaches out slowly but before she reaches the door, the door handle moves and the door opens. In the doorway stands a figure in a black cloak, and a mask. It the man from the photo, it’s Ghostface. He slowly tilts his head to the side, “Surprise, Holly.”

He rushes in, the door shutting behind him sealing her in, before she has chance to move, and grabs her by the throat and pins her against the wall. She panics under his grip. “You said you like a man in a mask. So how about we play a game?” He leans in closer. “Let’s play psycho killer. I’ll be the killer and you can be my helpless victim. You’re home alone, and I’m going to cum inside.” The look on her face changes, changes to a naughty curiosity. He grips her throat a little harder and she goes doe-eyed, and let’s out a whimper.

With his free hand he reaches into his robes, and takes out his hard and throbbing cock. She glances down and she’s hypnotised. He wasn’t joking when he said he had a weapon. It had to be eight inches – bigger than she’d ever seen in person.

“Let’s begin,” he says, as he releases the grip on her throat and forces her to her knees, grabbing her jaw, forcing her to look up at him, “you did say you wanted to use your mouth, you slut.”

He pushes his cock into her mouth, spreading her lips around his head, sliding in deeper. She gags but he doesn’t stop. He places both his hands on her head, and pushes her back into the wall as he begins to thrust his cock in and out of her mouth, face fucking her. She gags. Tears begin running down her face. He continues to thrust his cock to the back of her throat, moaning under his breath, “fuck”, ignoring her gags and pleads for air. She can’t take anymore, and he pulls his cock out. She gasps for air. His cock glistens, covered in her drool. Stretching from his cock back to her mouth is a strand of spit, as it drips onto the floor. Her face is a mess, with tears running down her cheeks, and spit dripping her chin onto her clothes.

She looks up at him, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. She moves her head closer to his cock and takes him back into her mouth, this time she’s in control. She runs her tongue over his cock, looking up into the mask – sucking on his balls, making him moan. She wraps her hand around his shaft and strokes the length of his sloppy cock. Her hand gliding over it. She can’t help but moan as she takes him willingly into her mouth. He moans out as her throat takes all of him. Gone is the helpless victim, now only the cock hungry slut is left.

Ghostface grabs her hair and pulls her head away from his cock. She lets out a moan, not wanting to stop. Holly can’t remember enjoying a cock this much, especially because it’s a cock of a stranger – of a masked stranger. He pulls her across the room by her hair and throws her onto the floor. He towers above her. She understands she’s to play the victim, so she turns and crawls, and for the extra authenticity she let’s out screams of panic. Ghostface tilts his head, his cock getting harder as he takes himself in his hand and strokes it, enjoying the helplessness of his victim. She doesn’t get far, and he steps over her, leaning down. He grabs her by the throat from behind. She looks helpless, a look of fear in her eyes, but begging for more. He reveals a phone in his hand and he turns it on the two of them and takes a photo. He lets her throat go, flips her onto her back and pulls out a knife. His knife slices through her dress and he tears away her clothes, leaving her naked on the floor.

He picks her up and throws her over the back of the sofa, using his feet to spread her legs apart, he pulls off his gloves. He reaches around and spreads her pussy. “What a pretty pussy you have, although it’s looking a little empty”. He slides his fingers inside her pussy. She lets out a moan of pleasure. “Oh you are a slutty victim. Your pussy is dripping for me.” She moans as he carries on sliding his fingers inside her, commanding her to come closer with a beckoning movement of his fingers. She pushes herself close as he finds her g-spot, while his other hand rubs her clit. The sounds of her moans, mixed with his and the sound of her wet pussy fill the room.

“Please, Mr Ghostface, I need more,” she breathlessly says through her moans. He replies with a low cocky laugh. Pulling his hands away he grabs her hair and slides his cock inside her, both letting out a moan of pleasure. He starts thrusting his cock inside her, speeding up. He moves his hands to her shoulders so he can pull her down on his hard cock as he pounds into her, using her for his own pleasure, like she’s his personal fleshlight. “Fuck yes, your pussy feels so good for my throbbing cock,” he moans through his gritted teeth.

He pounds harder into her, pulling he down onto him with each pound. She can no longer control herself, her moans get louder, they begin to turn into screams of pleasure because she can’t take his cock anymore. Her pussy is sensitive, and her legs begin to shake. She lets out a whiny cry, “I’m cumming,” and she moans harder than she had before. Her legs begin to shake violently.

He doesn’t slow down. He grabs her arms, hooking them behind her back. She moans hard, in pleasurable pain. He starts grunting and breathing heavily. She cums again, and again. Her legs weakening beneath her, he keeps pounding. “I can’t stop cumming” she whines. He grunts harder. Then he lets out a loud moan as he cums, shooting his warm sticky cum inside her, filling his victim up.

He pulls his cock out of her wet pussy, and his cum drips out between her lips and down her thighs. Her legs are weak, but she manages to fall onto the sofa, a bare naked mess, dripping with cum and covered in her own spit.

Ghostface laughs at his victim, now completely helpless and gasping for air. He puts away his cum covered cock and turns away. He walks towards the front door, and leaves, closing it behind him.

Holly lies on the sofa in a state of ecstasy, questioning whether that did actually just happen. Her phone vibrates and she picks it up, and in the chat is the photo of Ghostface standing above her desperate and needy face, with her throat in his grasp. It did. She bites her lip, replaying what Ghostface had just done to her body. She can’t help herself looking at the photo, and with his cum still dripping out of her, claiming her as his, her hand slowly makes it’s way back between her legs to play with her cum filled pussy.

[justasightseer]

Back again with my bestest boy(s). This one is dedicated in part, to Alfred×Uhtred, the most iconic and influential relationship in the show. I personally don't ship them romantically, but their dynamic is so electric that I can see why many do.

To The King and his Lionheart, to Head and Heart, to Brains and Brawns 🍻

Also, isn't it absolutely INSANE that this is the first time they touch hands??? These men have known and cared for each other for TWO DECADES and this is the very first time???? That they hold hands?? And it's only for a few seconds???? I mean, I'm not the touchy-feely type myself but male culture is actually ridiculous 😭

[that1emowitch]

Bruce, high on painkillers, is being babysat by Jason. Jason has to do an emergency Red Hood thing, and lacking an alternative, slaps a stock domino on Bruce and drags him along.

Bruce proceeds to say/do the most unhinged shit. The goons are suddenly viscerally aware of where Hood got it from.

WOW okay you guys are unhinged, you know that?

(And I love it <3)

A/N: I fully intended to write a crack fic, but the feels crawled in through the plot holes I missed and made their homes in the heart of the story. Also I don't know what you mean by 'stock domino' so I'm assuming it's one of those dollar store ripoffs.

(TW: Accidental overdosing on painkillers, mentions of blood, Jason's usual level of swearing, some goons almost dying but like in a funny way.)

Word Count: 2328

Jason wants to scream.

Like, let it rip out on an abandoned cliff in the howling rain kinda scream.

But no, he's stuck babysitting Brucie Wayne who accidentally OD'd on fucking painkillers after trying to treat himself in Alfred's unfortunate absence (how does that even happen?!).

Dick and Damian are out doing some brotherly-bonding thing, Tim's with the Titans, Duke and Cass are at the movies, and Steph has declared herself "not one of Bruce's kids." Leaving Jason as the only one free to look after their "Dad".

Jason pushes Bruce down on the Batcave's gurney for the billionth time after he attempts (keyword: attempts) to walk again, scowling. None of them are getting any waffles from me again. Or pancakes. Or scones. Or anything I make for them out of my sweet, kind heart. Those little shits.

Jason puts two fingers on Bruce’s wrist, checking his pulse. His skin is cold and clammy, breathing slow, but at least he’s not vomiting anymore. He sighs, collapsing on a chair beside Bruce. He's tired. So fucking tired.

Just as Jason's eyes flutter shut for a moment, the Batcomputer's alarm suddenly blares.

Bruce shoots up, shouting, "ALARM!"

Grumbling, Jason drags himself to the computer, pushing Bruce down along the way. He opens the glaring red notification, brows creased.

Black Mask's goons have intercepted some military shipment...

"Ugh..." Jason groans, and moves to put on his helmet (he never changed out of his costume), checking his guns, when a sudden crash from behind him snaps his attention to the man-child he's supposed to be babysitting.

Bruce has stepped off the gurney and collapsed face-down on the med bay's floor.

He can't just leave him there, can he?

Jason considers his options: He could either strap Bruce to the gurney and leave (in which case Dick will have his head), or he could take Bruce out on the streets with him (in which case Dick will absolutely want to murder him.)

Jason smirks. It’s obvious which one’s the right choice.

Ten minutes later, Jason’s riding through the city at over a hundred miles per hour, with Bruce strapped to the backseat of his motorcycle. Bruce is wearing a dollar store ripoff of the Robin domino and a Robin-themed cape made of Tim’s bedsheets, looking absolutely ecstatic at the high speed.

They arrive at the warehouse where Black Mask’s goons have transported their stolen goods, parking in a shadowed spot a building away. Jason gets off, helping Bruce onto his feet, and says, “Now, I’m going to go shoot some people, you stay hidden and quiet, got that?”

“Guns are bad,” Bruce replies, holding a finger to Jason’s helmet. “Just like clowns. And ducks.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jason shakes his head. He doesn’t have time for this right now.

Jason quickly scales the nearest building, grappling to the roof of the warehouse. He peeks in through a hatch in the roof to survey the area. There are about a dozen armed goons, none of them looking very bright. There are 4 crates they’re guarding, likely filled with ammo.

Cocking his guns, Jason jumps down through the hatch, landing right in the middle of the warehouse with a ‘thud’ sound. “Surprise,” He grins, raising his guns.

“Aye, that’s Red Hood, ain’t it?” Comes a goon’s terrified voice. The others around him immediately aim their guns at Jason— they’re clearly untrained.

Suddenly there’s another thud behind him. “That’s a bucket, you morons!” Comes a too-familiar, slurred voice. Jason turns around to come face-to-face with Bruce, eyes wide. 

In a fight with any real criminals, this distraction would have cost Jason his life. But luckily these adorably clueless goons are just as shocked as him.

Unfortunately the distraction only lasts for a few seconds. Jason immediately jumps into the fight, shooting three goons in the kneecaps and dodging a few bullets. From the corner of his eye, he sees two more goons running out the door, crying. He punches another guy in the face, instantly knocking him out, and is about to turn back to check on Bruce when suddenly something hard collides with his skull.

Jason staggers slightly, trying to regain his balance, when he sees a goon holding a giant stone, wearing a proud grin.

Fuck, his helmet’s probably busted…

Then suddenly Bruce is running towards the goon, hands fisted and veins popping, screaming, “NO ONE HURTS MY SON!”

Then Bruce’s fist collides with the goon’s with a sickening crunch, splattering blood across the floor as the man crumples to the ground. Bruce doesn’t stop there, and continues to beat him up, yelling profanities.

It warms Jason’s cold, (un)dead heart to watch that— to see his Dad fighting for him. It’s like they say, you’re most truthful when you’re drunk— or high. This is how much Bruce loves him.

Then another thought strikes him— Bruce is going to regret being this violent when he sobers up. It’s going to claw at him, tear him up, and he’s going to compartmentalize and end up punishing himself by overworking.

Jason rushes forward, pulling Bruce off of the man. “B— Robin, stop!” He shouted, looking into the man’s domino-covered eyes.

Bruce’s brows furrow. “Robin?”

Jason points to Bruce’s Robin-themed cape and stock domino.

“Ah.” Bruce nods, pulling away. “You okay? Did you see any duck?”

“Duck?” Jason pauses in confusion. But before he can question it farther, he spies the three remaining goons using a ladder to climb up through the roof of the warehouse, trying to escape.

“Stay here. And do not move.” Jason orders Bruce, and runs after them.

He makes his way up the ladder as fast as he can , exiting under the polluted night sky. The goons, the ridiculously stupid goons, are standing around the edge of the roof, trying to figure out how they’re going to get down.

He doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this ridiculous shit.

Actually, scratch that, he doesn’t get paid at all.

“Wow, you guys are pathetic,” Comes Red Hood’s robotic voice, startling the goons, and one of them accidentally topples over the edge, screaming. Jason ensures that the guy’s hanging on tight— he can wait.

He cocks his guns, aiming both at the two standing goons. Both men are trembling with fear, hands up in surrender. “Hood— Mr. Hood, please—” One of them squeaks, but one look from Jason shuts him up.

“Please. Mr. Hood was my father,” Jason quips, his robotic chuckle sounding sinister. 

That’s when he hears another voice behind him (again)— “But I’m your father.”

Jason jumps, whipping around. “How did you— I didn’t even hear you come!”

Bruce just shrugs innocently, waving his bloodstained hands at the terrified goons.

Then Jason hears the distinct sound of a gun being cocked. From the corner of his eye he sees the bolder of the goons, the one that had spoken before, taking aim.

“DUCK!” He yells, falling out of the way.

Instead of dodging, Bruce falls into a defensive stance, looking around frantically. “Where?!”

The bullet barely misses Bruce’s ear as he turns his head.

Jason has had it with sky-high Bruce now. Annoyance rising, he quickly shoots the two goons in the kneecaps, forgetting about the one hanging off the edge, and stalks up to Bruce, glaring.

“What is up with you and ducks?!” He demands, his voice raised.

“Ducks are evil,” Bruce spits, nose wrinkled. “Just like clowns. And bats.”

Jason’s brows raise. “Bats are evil?”

“Yeah, duh, that’s why everyone’s scared of Batman.” Bruce rolls his eyes, his drawl sounding too much like Steph. “Bats are scary.”

“You really took ‘become what you fear’ too literally, huh?” Jason snorts, putting his guns back in their holsters. Then he takes off his helmet, checking the damage— just a slight crack at the back. Not too bad.

“You know, I fell into a hole and into a cave when I was a boy and a dozen bats attacked me. I nearly died.” Bruce continues, gesturing towards the air with his hands. 

“Yeah, right.” Jason shakes his head, chuckling. “Now come on, we gotta get you back.”

That’s when another voice rings out, high-pitched and scared. “Um, Mr. Hood? Please HELP! Please, please, please—”

Jason’s attention snaps to the corner of the roof— ah, right, the goon’s still hanging off the edge, isn’t he?

He grumbles, making his way over, and squats above the man, shaking his head. The man below him looks like he’s pissed himself, face ashen, tears running down his cheeks, muttering, “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die…” On repeat.

“I’ll pull you up on one condition,” Jason looks down at him, voice low. “Never become a gun for hire again. If I see you fighting on the streets…” He pulls out his gun.

“No, no, I won’t, I swear…” The man whimpers, eyes squeezed shut. Jason sighs, and grabs the man by the collar and hauls him up. He crumples onto the roof, curling into a ball.

“Take out your phone and dial 911, tell them you’ve been naughty,” Jason orders, his gun pointed at the man’s head. (What? A guy needs to have some fun.)

The man whines, and immediately obliges.

“Pathetic,” Jason ties the man up quickly, and makes his way over to Bruce, who was sitting on the floor of the roof, taking apart some random crushed handphone he’s found.

“Get up, old man. GCPD will be here soon. We’re going home.” He pulls Bruce up, ignoring how he longingly stares at the dismantled phone.

The two of them grapple down from the roof, landing safely on the pavement. As they walk towards his bike, Bruce says, “Did you know I ate a phone once?”

Jason stumbles slightly. “What?”

“Tasted nice. Like electricity. Crackle-y.” Bruce hummed, his face straight (as straight as someone dating Superman could be). He isn't kidding.

That, or he's delusional.

“Don't try it. You might turn into a computer or something.” Bruce nodded very seriously.

“Oh god,” Jason snorts. “I'm so glad my helmet’s recording all this. Perfect blackmail material.”

“Black's a very, very pretty color.”

Jason rolls his eyes, revving the motor, making sure Bruce is safely strapped onto the backseat behind him. “You're just emo.”

“What's emo?” Bruce raises an eyebrow, words slightly slurred.

“Y'know, when people wear all that black makeup, skinny jeans, with hair covering their eyes.” Jason explains, putting a spare helmet on Bruce's head. “And listen to, like, My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy and Panic! At The Disco. The Emo Trinity.”

“Oh, oh!” Bruce's eyes sparkle. “Dickie used to do that! He went to a My Chemmy concert once, but he didn't want me coming along.” He pouts.

Jason thinks of all the times Gerard Way has shoved a mic down his throat and grabbed his junk. “Yeah, I wonder why.”

Then he turns around to look Bruce in the eye. “But, Golden Boy was emo? Seriously?”

Bruce just smiles and nods, saying, “Now go.”

“Going,” Jason smirks and speeds down the streets of Gotham city, not slowing down until their surroundings change from shitty apartment buildings and broken street lights to the eerie quiet of Bristol. He can see the Manor in the distance when he takes a hidden turn, straight down the road that leads to the Batcave. 

He pulls into the underground ‘garage’ section of the Cave, parking his bike before helping Bruce off. As he removes Bruce’s ripoff domino and “cape”, he says sternly, “Now, you tell no one of what we did today, got that? Not a soul.”

Bruce just flashes a thumbs-up and smiles in the most un-Bruce-like way possible. It’s a little creepy, honestly.

“And even if you remember this once you sober up you won’t talk, because you swore on your soul not to tell.”

“Mhm. Kay.”

“Good.” Jason smiles slightly, helping Bruce back to the gurney, making him lie down. He checks him over for any symptoms that the painkiller overdose is making his health worse. His skin’s still cold and clammy, but his breathing’s more steady. His pupils aren’t as small anymore, and he’s way more responsive than he was an hour ago.

Huh. Maybe all he really needed was some exercise.

Jason sits down beside his father, taking a deep breath. “Hey, uh… Did you really mean that, back there? That… That I’m your son?”

Bruce’s brows furrow. “Yes, who else’s son would you be? Superman’s?”

A short laugh escapes Jason. He moves closer to Bruce, lying down so his head is resting beside the older man’s. “I just…” He sighs, unable to form the right words. “I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but… I love you, Dad.”

“Aww, Jaybird…” Bruce’s hand moves sluggishly to cradle Jason. “I love you so much more than you could ever imagine.”

A small smile plays on Jason’s lips as he closes his eyes, leaning into his Dad’s touch. Maybe… maybe babysitting a high Bruce isn’t so bad.

[BONUS!!!]

Dick walks into the infirmary nearly an hour later with Damian trailing behind him, intending to check up on Bruce. He’s been ringing Jason’s phone for a while now, but he hasn’t been picking up. And… Honestly, Dick’s getting worried.

“Tt. I knew we shouldn’t have left Father’s safety in the hands of an incompetent fool such as Todd,” Damian frowns, scowling.

“No, no, it’s probably just a misunderstanding,” Dick tries to reassure his baby brother, but he picks up his pace. “I mean, we both know what Jason’s like. One moment he’s nice, one moment he’s—”

His voice trails off as he sees Jason sitting on a chair beside Bruce, who’s on the gurney— both asleep, with Jason’s head resting on Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce cradling him.

“Aww, Little Wing…” Dick smiles, pausing. Even Damian freezes behind him. Dick steers him away, back into the main house, so as to not disturb the sleeping pair. “Yeah, they’re okay. Nothing bad happened.”

[stargirlfics]

Back to the double date idea…Alfred and you go on a dd with Bruce and Selina. You go out to a restaurant and if anyone saw you they’d think gothams playboy is getting lucky tonight and his butler isn’t…then cut to Bruce and Selina having a very pg13 night while Alfred has you face down and ass up screaming into his sheets while he’s plowing into you (then a very romantic bubble bath after 🥺)

Oh my god yes! I feel like you and Selina would be more playful at dinner while Bruce and Alfred are a bit more reserved, they know they’re out in public and it’s just habit even with their girls next to them but whew when it’s the end of the night and Alfred finally has you to himself, Bruce and Selina off exploring the night or doing god knows what in the Batcave too, yeah he’s definitely making up for how polite and held back he was at dinner

I’m gonna explode at the image of Alfred having you face down, ass up like god that really does something for me!!! Think about the grip on your hips, how he’s nearly growling watching your ass bounce back against his hips as he fucks into you deep, at a steady pace that makes your whines and moans climb higher till you have to muffle them in his sheets

“Did you get what you wanted, darling? Bet this was all you could think about sitting at the dinner table, huh, just needed me to fuck you properly.”

“Such a good girl for me, that’s it, show me how much that pretty cunt needs me.”

I can just hear the filth!!!

Because Alfred’s been the most proper gentleman all night especially with Bruce right there but you got dressed up and you look divine enough to eat, and maybe you teased him a bit under the table and now that all the pleasantries are over he can be nasty with you like he wants!

Coochie is shaking bestie! Ugh and the romantic, sweet bubble bath for you after, Alfred getting you cleaned up, soothing you and giving you such solid, comforting aftercare!!! I want it right now! He’s the best!

[yanderes-galore]

Alfred Ahford (Resident Evil: Code Veronica) prompts 29, 35, 45, please?))

Sure! Been awhile since I did content for him. My prompt list for those who were wondering.

Yandere! Alfred Ashford Prompts 29, 35, 45

"I want to be this close... forever...."

"Don't push me away, dear... I only want to be closer to you!"

"Stop screaming! I can't take it!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Manipulation, Trauma, Split-personality mention, Abandonment, Possessive behavior, Blood, Murder, Implied intimacy, Dubious relationship, Unhealthy coping.

Loneliness eats away at a man. Alfred Ashford was a prime example, being the only alive/active member of his family at the age of 12. At first, he handled it well.

Yet it slowly sunk in that he had no one else to talk to but his split-personality. He was truly alone with no comfort to be found. Which is why when he managed to hunt down a new servant on the Island he got attached so easily.

Comfort quickly embraced him when he asked if you'd hold him. He sat you on his bed and laid on top of you. You could feel him shaking, grabbing at you tightly.

Alfred Ashford, your earl, was an unstable man. His emotions were erratic and he broke down often. At times he was sadistic... but times like this he was docile and scared...

Like an abandoned child.

You'd be ordered to sit there for what felt like hours. All Alfred wished to do was bask in your comfort. He'd cling and never let go, muttering into your outfit.

"I want to be this close... forever...."

Admittedly, when he said that the first time it made your cheeks flush. Even more so when he snuggled closer. You weren't sure how you felt about your earl....

Did he just want you for comfort, like a stuffed animal? Was he reflecting how he felt about Alexia onto you? Or... did your earl like you romantically?

That can't be true....

You had almost gotten used to his behavior as he did it so often. He'd hunt you down specifcally and ask you to follow him to his room. Then you'd start your routine....

You had called yourself a fool for thinking he had feelings for you. His actions... soon said otherwise. Strange... for he barely knew anything about you from what you know.

"(Y/N)... that is your name, right?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Would you do... anything for me?"

"... of course, my lord-"

"If I asked you to kiss me, would you?"

Your face reddens. Well... how straightforward.

"... My lord, that's unprofessional-"

"You would, wouldn't you?"

You avert your gaze, the man still sitting on you. You can't take the intense gaze he has on you. You need a breather, so you push on him to get off.

"Sorry, my lord. I have other duties to tend to-"

Alfred grabs your arms and puts them above your head, hovering over you. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have feelings for the young lord.... You two were so intimate anyways. But you were not ready to give into such desires just yet!

"Don't push me away, dear... I only want to be closer to you!"

Alfred breathes over you, eyes scanning your flustered figure. He can't possibly be thinking of-

"Answer me...!"

"I...I would...!"

You squeak your answer, feeling him adjust himself on top of you.

"I can tell you have a certain fondness towards me as I do you...."

He tilts your chin up, leaning closer.

"Well? Go on then. I want you to show me that you're mine."

He ghosts his lips over yours, watching your body shake and shiver underneath him.

"I'm allowing you. Take what's yours from your master."

Something about his voice, his encouragement, and the nerve wracking situation made you give in. That night, during one of your comfort sessions, it became much more. The first kiss was so sweet... you both craved more.

You knew you would surely be scolded by the other servants. Seducing their vulnerable earl in his time of need? How absurd!

Upon telling Alfred, he said it wasn't their place to say what's wrong and what's right. All that mattered was your comfort... all that mattered was you. Even more so if you were under him, admitting you're his.

Alfred never really liked the other servants judging you. Alfred had picked you out... they should mind their own business. He could easily solve the problem with a shot from his hunting rifle.

He just hated how it scared you when he murdered them.

"Stop screaming! I can't take it!"

"You killed them!"

"I killed them for you! They were being too nosey in what we do. Now... there is no judgement."

"Alfred... you can't just-"

"It doesn't matter!"

His embrace doesn't feel comforting with the blood, bodies, and smell of gunpowder in the air. You're completely rigid in his hold while Alfred nuzzles into your neck, sighing softly. Even after purging the island of those who judged you... he still finds complete and utter comfort in your warmth and smell.

"... all that matters is that you know you're mine. That's true, isn't it?"

"...."

"You're mine, aren't you?"

"... yes."

"Good..."

He leads you to his bedroom, walking through the halls and not once letting you go.

"Let me repay you for being such a good servant of mine, then...."

[clownandout]

There was coffee on the table, Alfred probably having gone off to dust some corner of the manor, but helpful in so many other ways as usual. Bruce sipped from his mug, wondering idly how John took his coffee at home. He supposed he could just bring some sugar up with him and let him add what he wanted. He wasn’t sure he had the rest of what it would take to make the monstrosities of sweetness that John normally seemed to create when they picked something up while out. 

Making some scrambled eggs and toast was easy enough, and finding a tray to carry everything on only took opening a few cabinets. Heading back upstairs, he wondered idly if this was too much, before pushing his doubts down and opening the door, moving to set the tray on the night stand. He looked over the man under the blankets, before tugging them down slightly, knowing that he was probably going a bit too far, but wanting to see his face. 

He looked peaceful, mouth slightly open, and he noted a slight flush to his cheeks, probably from the heat of his self made cocoon. 

“John?”

John’s brows furrowed, his mouth opening slightly more, and he clenched the blankets in his fist. His voice was low, the rasp of sleep filtering through. 

“Bruce…” 

He waited for a second, but John didn’t seem to wake any further, just letting out a slightly choked noise. Worried, he reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently and raising his voice. 

“John.” 

Near automatically, John’s eyes snapped open. They locked eyes, John’s wide and hazy, before John seemed to register that he was actually there. He glanced down at himself, then back up at Bruce, before he squeezed his eyes shut and forcibly wretched himself away, tugging the blankets back over his head and nearly screaming. “GET OUT!”

Shocked, Bruce stumbled back slightly, before quickly racing through the door, slamming it shut behind him. He could hear John’s shouting from the other side, muffled but loud enough to be clear. “You can’t just do that! It might be your house, but you said it’s my room! You can’t just come in like that, Bruce! I have a right to privacy!” 

Bruce’s face flushed, a hand clenched at his side. He spoke loudly, trying to be heard over John’s exclamations. 

“You’re right! I’m sorry, John! I wasn’t thinking! It won’t happen again!”

John called back, his voice nearly cracking. “Go away! Go downstairs or something! Just standing outside the door is making it worse!” 

There was a pause, and then a confused question, voice much quieter but still slightly audible. “...Is that a whole bag of sugar for one cup of coffee?”

Completely embarrassed, Bruce quickly strode down the hall, John’s uproarious laughter echoing past the door and following him.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Supernova (Chapter 7)

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: None! Lmao finally

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: As the daughter of Wonder Woman, you always knew you were destined for something more than the life of a mortal. It seemed like your wish for a life of adventure came true but whether in the form of a blessing or curse, you didn’t know. All you know is that you were the sole witness for a chain of murders that would begin. It’s up to you to find out who was the murderer before it’s too late……

A/N: It's a sweet chapter ya'll. I promise.

Supernova Masterlist

“You’re sweaty.” Robin murmured when you rested your forehead against the nape of his neck. You both were exhausted after training and you were a shower away from passing out in your bed but you both still needed a few minutes to catch your breath, leaning on each other for support. Even though he was complaining about you sweating, he didn’t seem to do anything to get away from you, even going so far as to wrap an arm around your shoulder.

You felt him swallowing the gulps of water against your skin before scoffing and wiping your skin with a towel, “As if you’re any better, my eyes are stinging from your sweat.”

Then you both dissolved back to silence, quietly enjoying each other’s company as the night slowly bled into day.

“Do you ever wonder what smoking feels like?” You asked and Robin laughed, making you whine when he began shaking, moving your body in tandem with his because of it. Even though you pinched his side to get him to stop laughing, it was useless since it made him laugh even harder, slugging you off his shoulder as your back hit the training mat.

“It wasn’t even that funny.”

“It was random."

“I was just thinking about it. I can hardly breathe when someone else is smoking beside me. I wonder how it feels actually inhaling the stuff.” You wondered, now getting comfortable on your back and he lay down beside you, “I guess some people enjoy it.”

It was silent again and you yawned, waiting for your body to cool off. The unfortunate thing about living at Happy Harbor was that the weather was unusually hot during the summer, so hot that even the water ended up getting to a scorching temperature. If you went for a shower straight after training, you’d be slowly boiled to perfection.

But the more you waited, the sleepier you got.

Robin spared you a glance as you yawned once again, stifling his own. The training had been taking a toll on him, since he would come to the cave right after patrol instead of sleep at the Manor. Partly because he liked seeing you improve in combat and get better each day and partly because he just liked seeing you.

If he caught you on a good day, you were fun to be around, cheerful and funny. Your energies mixed together well, fitting together like two puzzle pieces but he never lingered on that thought for long. For now, Robin just wanted to be supportive and a good friend. He’d seen firsthand how much you could change when things hurt you and he never wanted to push you towards that again.

His mind drifted back to the day in the interrogation room, the way you didn’t have any remorse for Thelma when she cried and screamed in front of you. It was so unlike you and for a few brief moments he wondered if he ever knew you at all.

He looked at you again, noticing the way you were smiling at nothing, the sheen of sweat on your face and neck before rethinking. He knew you; he was sure of that. And he liked you for it too.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Just that prom is next week at school. Before Valerie I would’ve pleaded to go but I don’t think I’d want to return to school after this.” You said thoughtfully, suddenly thinking about what you would do if you made out of all this alive.

“Maybe you should transfer to my school.” He said absentmindedly. It wasn’t really a suggestion that he thought you’d accept but he actually liked the thought of you going to his school.

You sent him a teasing smile, “Oh? Boy Wonder actually goes to school? Not some advanced intelligence nerd program?”

He laughed at this, “You’re one to talk.”

It was silent for the next couple moments once again while you both rested comfortably. This was the thing he appreciated the most about your relationship; when it was silent, he wasn’t scrambling to find some conversation piece to fill the silence. He wasn’t unaccustomed to awkward silence but it never felt awkward when he was with you. It was just silence.

He could stay beside you and just stay silent and that was enough. He liked that.

“What color are your eyes?” You asked again, curious.

“Like I’d tell you.” He sighed, sounding way too comfortable for his own good. You kicked him lighter than you were intending to.

“They’re brown, aren’t they?”

“Why brown?”

“Because I feel like any other color would give you an unfair advantage.”

He settled in further, wanting the training mats to suddenly feel like his mattress back home, “Well I’m no swim team captain but.”

“Jealous?”

“Sure.”

The sweat was making the mats stick to your skin and you felt it aggressively peel from your skin when you turned on your side to face him. Now you were made painfully aware about the cold sweat pooling below you and realized you were in desperate need for a shower.

You rubbed his arm gently, wishing him a good night even though you knew that the sun was up. Robin returned the gesture with a smile, telling you to get a good night’s sleep. As he watched your receding back, a thought came to his mind and he stopped you in your tracks.

“Here’s a thought, why don’t we do something on prom night? Have our own little thing right here? We could watch a movie or something.” He proposed and your brows furrowed, “Don’t you have prom too?”

He did. Which was planned and decorated with the money his father had generously donated. But Dick didn’t feel an ounce of remorse for missing it. He also knew it was the only night that the others wouldn’t be home, all at their own prom. As long as he would get to have a fun night with you.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t planning on going anyway.” Alfred had already pressed his suit and had a special corsage ordered. He was going with Barbara, as friends, but cancelling on her seemed like a small feat in the moment.

“Are you sure?” “Definitely.”

You smiled slightly, nodding before waving goodbye and continuing on your way to the showers. When he heard the door shut, Dick realized just what he had gotten himself to and flopped back onto the mats, ‘What did I just do?’

He’d have to cancel the limo without his dad or Alfred finding out. He’d have to cancel the reservations at the restaurant. For goodness’ sake, he’d have to take a rain check on Barbara. Still, Dick wasn’t able to wipe the smile off his face.

***

You were oddly looking forward to hanging out with Robin tonight. Everyone had already left for their own proms, Zatanna was in a dress that she had borrowed from you. Even though you knew that the prom dress you had been planning to wear would’ve been the best for her school theme, you had a weirdly hard time parting from it, considering it was just a piece of clothing.

All three girls spent a couple hours primping with you, trying their best to include you in some of the fun. You even managed to rope Artemis into getting glammed up. She protested a lot at first but once she got in the chair it was like you had tamed a jungle cat. They had time to style your hair as well and you barely had any idea what was happening while Doja Cat played and you had a sheet mask on. After getting that off, you felt like a new born baby.

You sent all three of them off after taking a ton of pictures and they told you to have a great night too, smiling like they knew something you didn’t.

Now that the cave was completely empty, even Aqualad had left that morning to pay a visit to Atlantis, you were left alone with Robin and were excited about it. You weren’t going to do anything special anyway, other than watching a movie and stuffing your face with food but you were still happy to spend some time with him when you both weren’t sweating like pigs.

Even the thought of sitting beside him on the couch while a movie played had a skip in your step.

Just as you saw the doors to the main hall and a familiar head of hair, you picked up the pace until you stopped walking all together, shocked.

Because there stood Robin waiting by the door with a shy smile on his face. Dressed in a suit and tie.

You chocked out a laugh, not quite sure why it felt like the wind was knocked out of you before walking up to him, gently pulling his fingers away from the tie he was fidgeting with and straightening it out, “A little over-dressed for a movie, don’t you think?”

“Change of plans, we’re going to have our own prom night, right here.”

You giggled, reclipping the tie clip before straightening out the corsage in his breast pocket. You spared a glance up, meeting his eyes and you realized just how close the both of you had gotten. If he didn’t have the sunglasses on, you would’ve been able to see your reflection in his—probably— brown eyes.

You cleared your throat, stepping away from him not before smoothing your hands down the lapels, smiling at just how handsome he looked.

“Wish you would’ve told me. I would’ve matched what I’m wearing to your tie.” You teased.

“Actually, you can.” You raised a brow at this and the red began crawling up his neck, “I asked your mom to drop your dress off. It’s in your room.”

The uncomfortable conversation with Wonder Woman about why he wanted the particular dress that her daughter of the same age was planning to wear to prom was completely worth it when he watched your eyes light up like the sun before throwing your arms around his neck, “Oh my god! I love you!”

The dress fit you like a glove, even though the last time you wore tried it on it had been a teeny bit snug. All those hours training with Robin probably made it fit a little better even though you didn’t look any different. You stood in front of the mirror and couldn’t stop twirling; the dress was just so beautiful and you were over the moon that you got to wear it.

When you met Robin by the door, it felt a little too good to be true, the way he smiled at you just as your eyes met and then held out his arm for you to take. Your heart was sure to stop beating tonight at the rate it was thumping in your chest. You could barely hear him over the sound of it, filled with too much adrenaline and excitement. You could’ve gone for a 100-mile run with the amount of energy you suddenly had.

“You look pretty.”

You grinned and curtsied in an old-fashioned way, tipping an imaginary hat, “Why, thank you. You look pretty dapper yourself.”

He laughed, “Dapper?”

“It’s a word, look it up, tweetie bird.”

“And now all the magic’s dead.”

“Oh? Because I was expecting you to pull out a bouquet from your sleeve there.”

“Actually—” He smiled, pulling out a matching corsage from his suit pocket and holding it out to you, “I went all out.”

He helped you fasten it around your wrist when you struggled to do it with one hand and your breath got caught in your throat. It was awkward, to say the least, the energy between the both of you. In fact, there was so much tension that you felt like you could choke on it. Even though your first response to any kind of distress was to hide underneath the blankets in your bedroom, you still stayed by his side.

“So, what are we waiting for? What movie are we watching?”

It seemed like he finally remembered why he was standing outside the hall in the first place and smiled shyly, a blush faintly painting his cheeks. It felt like he was stalling the more you thought about it, lingering at the door for way too long as if something would explode or jump at you if he put his hand on the handle.

“Actually—”

He opened the door and you gasped, “You need to stop saying ‘Actually’ because every time you do, I get a heart attack.”

How he managed to get all this done in a day was beyond you. The table was filled with snacks and drinks that you knew was meant to be left over for Wally to finish. The TV had a blanket fort in front of it, looking so cozy that you suddenly wanted to take a nap. The holo-computer was projecting something similar to a carnival game, with a couple targets levitating mid-air, labelled with different points.

Your heart fluttered when you realized that Robin had gone through all this just to make sure you’d have a fun night and suddenly your eyes felt alarmingly wet.

“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” Came his incredulous response and you gave him the weakest punch you could possibly muster because you knew any harder could give your date a hairline fracture, “Excuse me. It’s a perfectly healthy emotional response.”

“Yeah, but you cry a lot, have you realized?” He teased, pulling you toward the holo-computer, giving you a simulator stun gun and then picking one up for himself.

“You don’t cry at all, Mr. Roboto,” You cocked the gun and pointed at him playfully, “But no matter, you’ll be crying once I beat you to dust.”

His signature laugh was the next thing you heard and you blushed, embarrassed that you liked it more than you cared to admit, “Let’s just see about that.”

***

“And then she goes—Word for word, I’m not even kidding—” You told, picking up a tennis ball and using it to imitate an apple before pretending to take a bite out of it, “Young lady, eating is simply not allowed on school premises. *crunch* These rules obviously apply to everyone. *crunch* No one is above the rules. *crunch*”

Robin was laughing at your horrible British accent and the way you tried so hard to sound all hoity-toity, had Alfred been here he would’ve been appalled. To be quite honest, you weren’t even sure if the lady was British or not, but it seemed fitting and the way Robin was laughing made you embarrassing yourself a teensy bit worth it.

“Not to mention she’s spewing apple chunks all over me. I can never unsee that image.” You shuddered, shaking your head and his laughs dulled down to chuckles.

“That’s not that bad. Once, our health class teacher was covering contraceptives and such. And he stands in front of the entire class and, with absolutely no hesitation, asks ‘So boys and girls, what are your favorite condom brands?’” You burst into laughter at that hiding your face in your hands as tears began blurring your vision.

“Oh, my goodness, I can’t breathe, stop talking!” You interrupted his story, clutching your stomach and flopping on your back from laughing so hard. He laughed, watching you writhe on the floor, unable to stop the choked chortles that were leaving your lips. Your stomach felt like you had just done an ab workout.

The movie that was playing had long gotten over, the credits frozen on the screen as you both continued to talk, recounting all the hilarious stories you could remember as music played in the background, “Alright, so it’s an all-girls program and all of the girls are chattering about and have their own little groups in the auditorium. And my principal goes, ‘Why are you all standing so close? You all are straight girls, are you not?’”

“Not as bad as a girl volunteering to sing during a school assembly before serenading me in front of the entire school. Even though we’ve never actually talked.” He blushed, remembering just how embarrassing the situation was. You threw your head back, missing the moment Robin took to admire you.

“You little Casanova. Are you really complaining about being a heartthrob?” You teased, nudging him playfully and he rolled his eyes though it was hidden by his glasses.

Eventually the stories and laughter begin to die down as your ears tune into the music playing in the background. Just as a fun, rap song that you weren’t paying attention to but were sure had something to do with sex ended, you heard the familiar tune flow through the speakers and smiled as the singers’ voices filled your ears.

“Ahh, I love this song.” You smiled, listening to the first verse. It was a pretty love song that always got you singing when you heard it playing in the car. It was the song you listened to on repeat when you read a romance book to give you the right feels. Closing your eyes, you recalled the last book you read to the music, smiling as the feeling of giddiness began to flow through you.

“Care to join me for a dance?”

When you opened your eyes, Robin was holding a hand out for you, a gentle and reassuring smile on his face and you didn’t hesitate before taking his hand. If he had asked at the start of the night, you probably would’ve blushed and felt nervous just by holding his hand but after spending a couple hours together, you were finally in tune with each other.

You didn’t mind resting your hands on his shoulders as his floated around your waist before you began swaying to the rhythm. You had spent the whole day together, more or less in the same way; resting against each other while watching the movie, holding his hand when he attempted to throw a ball with your lacrosse stick and failing before you stepped behind him to show him how it was done and finally feeding each other food as you attempted to play the guess different foods while blindfolded.

You giggled at the way Robin squirmed when the petals of your corsage tickled his neck, still swaying out of beat to the song but it didn’t really matter, you were just trying hard not to trip over the slight train of the dress or on his feet.

“It’s occurring to me that I haven’t actually thanked you for all of this.” You began, eyes darting around the place as you took in just how much he had done for you today and your heart swelled in your chest, smiling softly without even realizing it. His fingers tightened their grip on your waist slightly and the light blush crawling on his cheeks was the only indication that he was feeling slightly embarrassed.

You looked him back in the eye, well at your reflection in his sunglasses, “I’m really touched, Rob. No one’s ever done anything like this for me and I really don’t know what to say to make you understand just how much this means to me. Thank you.”

Thank you didn’t even begin to express how much you felt for him at this point, dancing with you in bare feet across the hall. A night you had been dreading for a while, a night you thought would be spent all alone was made one of the best ones since you opened your eyes on the planet just because of him. You couldn’t tell him how grateful you were for that.

He felt embarrassed that you were putting him on the spot this way. You had said so much and a simple ‘You’re welcome’ didn’t seem right to say. It felt awkward and distant and off-putting, how would you continue the conversation after he so rudely shut you down without any other way to continue?

His hands were slightly sweating against your dress and if you noticed the increase of warmth from his palms, you didn’t say anything. So, he said the only thing he could to sort of fill the silence, “It was nothing, really. You really don’t have to thank me; I didn’t do much. Besides, I hardly think any of this could compare to your real pro—”

He was cut of by your hands slowly sliding to delicately cup his cheeks before slanting your lips over his in your first kiss. He inhaled sharply against your lips, fingertips digging into your waist. The kiss itself wasn’t much, just a silky brush of your lips against his without any pressure before you pulled back and gave him an endearing smile, “Thank you.”

He returned it, pulling you a teensy bit closer so he could hold you against him but still far enough so you couldn’t feel his heartbeat thrumming against his ribcage.

***

Not even twenty minutes after the two of you had parted with whispered goodnights, you climbed up the stairs to Robin’s nest, with your makeup freshly washed off and dressed in comfy pajamas. You saw the tip of Robin’s head peek out from the beanbag and smiled. Your heart was slowly sinking to your stomach with the thought of talking to him.

“Hey.”

He turned around, seemingly surprised to see you which he never seemed before. Usually, he could hear you from a mile away. The tie around his neck was loosened, the top button undone and his suit jacket lay wrinkled beside him, though he was still wearing his glasses.

Nonetheless, he gave you a gentle smile, scooting over a little so you could plop beside him on the beanbag, “Missed me already?”

“Yeah.” The honesty in your voice caught him off-guard and he found himself blushing and avoiding your eyes as he waited for you to speak again and tell him why you came up here. Of course, his heart leaped at the thought that you were up here just to see him, even though you spent the whole night together.

“Listen about earlier,” He turned his head to you but this time it was you who wouldn’t look at him, playing with your fingers in your lap, “About the kiss; I’m sorry.”

He could hardly hear anything other than his heartbeat when he heard the tone in your voice and he knew that something bad was going to come. Were you going to tell him that it was a mistake and that you regret it? He wouldn’t hold it against you but his heart tore at even the thought.

“I shouldn’t have done it without asking for permission first, I’m sorry. I was just reliving it and I realized that I never actually asked if I could, you know? It’s just I really like you and got caught up in nerves and emotions and all—” Somehow you managed to catch yourself rambling and stopped, taking a deep breath, “Anyway, if it made you uncomfortable, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

You glanced back up at him with a shy smile, “Are you gonna say something or, do you want me to leave….”

If it was possible, you looked even more beautiful barefaced and hair pulled back from your face than you did in the most beautiful dress he had ever seen you in before.

“Could I kiss you? Please?”

Your breath got caught in your throat and you found yourself leaning in before you could even think of saying anything.

Who were you to say no?

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@hanbedumbaf

@superheroesaremyjam113263

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

Supernova Taglist:

@tinybeantm

@adc2016

@seoulnights5

@renjunvrse

@brightjimini

@mad4hugs

@uniyasi

@wierdlypineapple

@mono--moonchild

@smol-book-nerd

[intercoursefluids]

You Lied to Me?

The Wayne Enterprises building was the most beautiful building Marinette had ever seen. The tour guide was a very sweet man and he loved telling jokes to try to get the class to laugh.

Unfortunately, Lila was on a roll today, lying about knowing the Waynes and growing up with the youngest son, and finding out that they were true mates.

Even if she was claiming that her true mate was Prince Ali a week before the trip was announced, god forbid Marinette points that out and makes Lila shed her crocodile tears.

Even Adrien, her own mate, took Lilas's side and yelled at her for pointing out her lies when she should just stay quiet.

It ended up leading into a huge argument between them that Marinette had to apologize for to get him to talk to her after 3 long weeks of him ignoring her existence.

“Bruce Wayne funds multiple charities around the world in honor of his late parents, he has several adoptive children and a single blood son. Bruce typically keeps his children out of the spotlight and most Gothamites are very good about keeping pictures with them off of the internet.”

As the tour guide talks, Marinette reaches out her hand for Adrien's just for him to brush her off and step away from her.

Wrapping her arms around herself she leaves his side to stand next to the tour guide. At least he tells jokes and tries to make this interesting.

Damian's POV:

“Master Damian, you should start heading to the office if you want to catch Master Dick before his lunch break is over.”

Running his hands over his face he thanks Alfred before grabbing his jacket and starting his car up.

He needed Dick to sign off on his trip to Paris, France since he was his temporary guardian until Father got back from his honeymoon with Selina.

Pulling up to the building he stops. Not because of the bright yellow bus sitting in the parking lot, no, it's because of the intoxicating scent of baked goods, plants, and rain wafting through the air.

Following the smell leads him to the tour group Grayson is leading into the cafeteria.

Walking to Grayson's side he passes him the permission slip, trying to understand why he wants to be near the Blue haired angel getting a lunch tray.

“Grayson, how can you tell if you’ve found your true mate?”

Grayson startles looking up from signing the papers.

“Well, their scent is one way, they will smell like absolute heaven to you and you can’t help but follow it. Another way is that when you see them you want to touch them so you can get your scent on them as well, and when you do touch them, it's electrifying. Literally and figuratively. Do you think you found them?”

Damian nods, his eyes following his mate as she looks for a table to sit at.

“She’s right there. The one with the blue hair.”

Grayson smiles, clapping Damian on the shoulder.

“She’s pretty.”

Damian snorts responding without even thinking.

“She’s beautiful, Grayson. ‘Pretty’ doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

Grayson coos at Damian, being thoroughly ignored.

Damian starts walking towards her, intent on introducing himself when he catches another scent just beneath hers.

Another male’s scent.

He freezes in place making Grayson stop his cooing to instead question him.

“What's wrong? Is it not her?”

Damian watches as she walks to a seat at an empty table away from the rest of her group.

“She-”

Damian cuts off as he watches someone stick out their foot and trip her. Her lunch spills everywhere as she falls to the floor.

Not thinking twice he rushes over to her, holding out his hand and helping her up.

Just like Grayson said little shocks travel up and down his arm and he finds himself never wanting to let go.

She has the most beautiful blue eyes he's ever seen and the most angelic voice he's eve- Oh wait she's talking.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and tripped, I’m so sorry!”

Damian just shakes his head, motioning for one of the janitors to come over and clean up the mess.

When he arrives she automatically drops down beside him to help pick up the mess muttering apologize the entire time.

Damian shifts his hand to her shoulder, subconsciously marking her with his scent and trying to overpower the other males.

“It’s fine honey, this stuff happens all the time. Why don’t you go hop back in line and get another tray? We wouldn’t want you to go hungry now.”

With the janitor's gentle prodding she finally stands up and gets another tray.

On her way back, Damian makes sure to keep an eye out for anyone else who wants to trip her.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly as she takes a seat at the table she was heading to and Damian watches her from his spot next to his brother.

Everything goes fine until they are about to finish the tour. A guy with blonde hair roughly grabs the girl with blue hair pulling her off to the side.

“Ow! Adrien, what’s wrong?”

Damian watches from Grayson's side, wanting to go help but certain she can handle herself.

“You know exactly what you did, Marinette. Don’t play stupid.”

A low growl leaves his chest as his mate is insulted.

“Adrien, you’re not making any sense. What did I do?”

He grabs both her wrists, shaking her violently.

“You belong to me! You are mine Marinette! Trying to get me jealous by flirting with that other guy? Really?! How low can you sink?! It's pathetic!”

She pushes away from him, rubbing at her wrists with the start of a bruise forming.

Damian starts to make his way over, a low, vicious rumbling in the back of his throat.

Grayson, seeing how mad Damian follows him.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I wasn’t flirting with anyone! I fell because Lila stuck her foot out and tripped me! It wasn’t my fault!”

Their argument starts to attract the attention of the other workers, a few running to find security.

Damian starts running as he watches the guy's hand clench before raising it.

He strikes her. Hard.

‘Marinette’ being caught off guard, loses her balance and falls to the ground, turning to look at him before he roughly grabs her by one of her pigtails and pulls her up to his face, and screams at her.

“Don’t talk back to me! I own you and you will do as I say! Do you understand?!”

She pushes him away.

“Whoever decided that you were my true mate was wrong. Dead wrong!”

He snarls, pulling his fist back to strike her.

Damian gets there first.

The next thing everyone knows is Damian Wayne is standing protectively in front of the girl and the guy is several feet away clutching his cheek and groaning.

Grayson kneels next to Marinette, helping her to her feet and taking Damian’s coat from his outstretched hand to wrap around her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

She nods as he pulls her closer to him away from the fight that is likely to break out before a loud screeching voice cuts through the air.

“True mates? With him? Please Marinette, I knew you were ignorant but I didn’t think you were stupid. I am Adriens true mate. Not you.”

Damian stands up making his way to Marinette, taking her in his arms as she starts to shake.

“What are you talking about Lila? Adrien was there on my birthday, he said we were mates!”

‘Lila’ cackles as other people gasp, some with their phones out recording the entire thing.

“Oh please, did you just take his word for it? Why didn’t you just check his scent? That’s always been the easiest way to tell. Go ahead, I won’t even mess with you.”

She stays frozen looking straight at the boy claiming to be her mate.

“I can’t. I lost my sense of smell when I was a kid. I couldn’t check even if I wanted to.”

Lila looks surprised now, before looking on sadly.

“You really had no idea he was lying, did you?”

She starts shaking, taking a hesitant step towards Adrien.

“Adrien? W-what's she talking about? It’s not true. Is it?”

Her voice ends in a broken whisper, eyes tearing up as he slowly stands up and walks to her.

“You are mine, Marinette. You were mine the moment you put on those earrings. I mean seriously if I don’t take you who will?”

She flinches as he steps closer, his voice getting louder with hysteria.

“Nobody likes you, Mari! I am all you have left now! You want to leave me? HA! I’d like to see you try it.”

At the end of his ‘speech’ he roughly grabs her arm pulling a whimper from her and a very, VERY dangerous sounding snarl from Damian.

Ripping Adrien's hand from her arm while being as gentle as possible to not hurt her he pulls her behind him handing her off to his brothers entrusting them to take care of her.

“Who do you think you are grabbing her like that?”

The words are accentuated with the deep growl rumbling from his chest.

“I don’t see how it's any of your business, what I do with MY personal belongings.”

Damian picks Adrien up by his neck slamming him against the nearest wall.

“Don’t talk about her like she's an object.”

Adrien, being the Buffon with no sense of self-preservation he is, laughs.

“Oh yeah? What's it to you how I treat her? Not like you would want her for anything other than her body anyway.”

Adrien sneers down at Damian, even as he slowly starts to turn purple in the face from his grip on his neck.

Slowly tightening his grip even more he watches as the blonde idiot starts to flail from the lack of breathing. Fighting to get a single breath of air.

“Do not act as if I would ever treat my mate in such a way.”

His voice is deadly, sending shivers down even the security guards spines.

Everyone watches on, some with their phones recording, certain that they are about to see Damian Wayne, their bosses son, about to commit a murder in the lobby.

And no one is even going to try and stop him.

That is until a small pale hand lands on his arm, shooting sparks all the way to his heart.

“Is it true? Are you really my true mate?”

Damian nods ever so slowly, never taking his eyes off the blonde who is slowly losing consciousness.

Two thin, lethal arms wrap around his waist from behind.

“Please stop. I just want to leave right now. Will you take me?”

Without another word Damian drops the barely conscious man, taking his coat off and wrapping it around Marinette's shoulders, tucking her into his side as he swiftly walks her out of the building.

Adrien slowly gets up, trying to chase after them only to be cut short by the three eldest Wayne brothers.

All armed with glares that could kill.

Behind them stands all of the Wayne enterprises employees, making a human barrier between the newly found mates and Adrien.

The brother with the white piece of hair steps forward pushing Adrien back down to the ground.

“I think we need to have a little talk.”

[jinmukangwrites]

@damianwayneweek 6 (6-18): Baby Damian | Family bonding | First crush

Warnings: none

Notes: Short, sweet, barely edited cuz it's 1am. Please enjoy some de-aged Damian and frazzled Dick. Yes I'm back on my Damian and Dick bullshit. I just love them so much.

-o-o-o-o-

Three days, according to Zatanna. The magic that hit Damian isn't permanent, and should wear off on its own within three days.

Dick already doesn't know what to do with himself. He was hardly prepared to take over and raise a ten year old, let alone a toddler.

But here he is, sitting in the manor living room watching as a small version of his already little brother toddles around on chubby baby legs. He can't be more than two. He can walk around on his own well enough—though Alfred did block off all of the stairs in the manor anyways—and every so often he'll point at something and say... Something that sounds like a demand.

Dick wasn't really ever good with understanding baby gibberish. It doesn't help that Damian seems to have reverted in memories as well... so the things he's demanding probably aren't in English as it's not his first language.

Damian wobbles up to Dick, holding out a toy train that Alfred dug out from the attic that used to belong to Bruce. Dick takes it and thanks him, but Damian pays him no mind and returns to his toys, babbling about something only he understands.

It's so weird seeing him like this. All small, chubby, soft, and bright eyed. Dick doesn't know everything Damian has gone through... growing up in the League... and as much as Dick dislikes Talia, he knows she was the best mom she could be to him. She's raised him to be a smart, strong young man, and taught him to be able to protect himself in his dangerous surroundings... and of course Dick has known Damian long enough to have gotten through his walls and see the wonderful boy underneath, but as he watches this toddler squeal as another toy train turns on and runs on its own...

He cannot help but mourn the child Damian could have been. Should have been if every child in the world had the privilege of growing up in a safe home and no worries besides homework.

He shakes his head. He cannot think like that. Whatever child Damian could have grown into if he hadn't been raised by the League is still in there. Just a bit harder to bring out. Dick can feel himself getting closer every day.

Damian notices him shaking his head and makes a curious ah sound. He walks over to Dick, lifting his arms, and Dick assumes he wants to be lifted. He smiles at the kid and grabs him under the armpits and lifts him into the air perhaps a bit quicker than what he was expecting. The kid screeches as Dick lifts him over head and let's go for just a moment to catch him and bring him back down to his face.

Damian scowls a familiar scowl and hits Dick on the nose with his stubby little fingers.

"Bah," he scolds, and a laugh bursts from Dick's throat.

Yup, Damian is still in there.

-o-o-o-o-

"I'm beginning to understand why B adopted all of us when we were already in elementary," Dick complains as baby Damian screams in his wooden high chair—yet another thing dug up from the attic that probably belonged to Bruce.

Alfred hands Dick a rag with a smirk. The thrown bowl of mac-and-cheese is all over Dick's shirt.

"Master Bruce always had a tenderness for infants," Alfred replies as he uses another rag to wipe off the still screaming and complaining Damian. "He always found joy in finding whatever excuse he could to hold and play with a baby. We used to go to a church when he was still a child himself, and there was a woman there without a husband who would always bring her infant. He would always offer to hold the child for her during the sessions to give her a break."

There's a twinkle in his eye when he looks over at Dick. "I imagine that if this had happened to you, or your other siblings, when he was still around, he would have loved every second of it. Food throwing, tantrums, and all."

Dick can't help but smile. He looks over at Damian who's now kicking his legs and waving his now clean hands in a fit. "Still, I wonder what's making him so mad."

"He might not like the taste," Alfred says, "or the texture. Perhaps some experimentation is due."

After some expiration and a lot of screaming through baby lungs that couldn't possibly hold that much air, they find that Damian really likes tomato soup, apple sauce, and broccoli.

-o-o-o-o-

"Master Dick," Alfred speaks up on the first evening while they were showing Damian Pooh's Heffalump Movie. Dick was relaxing and watching the movie, trying to remember if he's seen this one or not, while Damian was on the floor playing with an old kitten stuffed animal.

"Yeah?" Dick asks. He looks over at Alfred, only to see Alfred raise an eyebrow down at Damian. Dick follows his look, then his stomach drops when he finds that under the recently shopped for infant clothes, is a full looking diaper.

Dick looks back up at Alfred.

"Please, god, no."

Alfred drops a diaper, a bag of wipes, and a cloth into Dick's hands. "Good luck, sir."

-o-o-o-o-

Dick's about to lose his mind. He did everything Alfred told him to. He read a bedtime story—Where the Wild Things Are, as it was Dick's personal favorite as a child. He made sure his diaper was clean. He turned on some white noise. He even gave him Zitka. Yet, everything he did, Damian would scream and sob in his borrowed crib until Dick picked him up and started to sing the lullabies sung to him as a child. He sings the ones from his own native language, and even though there's no way Damian understands Romani, the kid calms down and reduces to exhausted little hiccups and almost seems to fall asleep with his little fingers curled in Dick's shirt.

And the second Dick puts him down, the crying rekindles.

Dick doesn't know what to do. Damian cries and cries until he's held and sung to, but Dick can't hold and sing to him all night. He paces Damian's room, bouncing the aforementioned kid-turned-infant in his arms, mumbling tunes to whatever lullaby decides to leave his lips.

Alfred told him he has permission to wake him up if he needed anything with Damian through the night, but Dick can't bring himself to. Alfred already works so hard during the day and night, keeping the manor in shape and making sure Dick doesn't get himself killed during patrol... He shouldn't have to be relied on to take care of a grumpy baby that won't go to sleep.

No, no Dick can handle this. Damian is calm when he's held and sung to, so that's what Dick will do. He walks to the cradle and pulls out Zitka, then goes to his own bedroom to sit on his bed and holds Damian close to his chest, singing and bouncing him gently.

Eventually, Damian goes completely still against his chest, snoring slightly, but Dick's too fearful to risk anything now. He stops singing though, resorting to simply holding Damian and trying to keep his own eyes open.

He fails, but he wakes up in the morning with Damian laying on his chest, still fast asleep and drooling all over his shirt.

Dick doesn't look a gift-horse in the mouth. He shifts into a better position, then allows them both to sleep in a little longer.

-o-o-o-o-

Alfred discovers the problem quickly when Dick tells him how hard it was to get Damian to sleep. Turns out, Damian's teething. By noon, Alfred had returned from the closest grocery store with a few tools to help with that. He puts a few water filled plastics into the fridge, then gives Damian one to chew on in the meantime. And chew on it, Damian does. He gets slobber everywhere, but at least he's no longer so upset, especially once a cold one is exchanged into his grubby little hands.

-o-o-o-o-

"That's absolutely adorable," Barbara says over the phone. Dick's just finished sending her a massive amount of pictures he's taken of Damian after taking him outside to play in the backyard with the dogs. He's sent her the pictures mostly because he needs people to see how cute Damian is while trying to tackle a dog twice the size of him... but also partly because he gets the feeling once Damian's back to his normal age, he will make sure all evidence of this is destroyed.

Barbara is someone Dick's sure can keep pictures hidden in a safe place... just in case Dick wants to see them again after lying to Damian he deleted them.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick's beginning to understand why people like babies. Like, they're cute, yes. The sounds they make are cute sometimes too. The things they find funny are usually very goofy and enjoyable to watch. Their laughs are contagious, and their babbles are enjoyable to try and decipher...

But nothing beats watching them sleep, curled up against your chest. Full trust in you that you'll keep them safe. It's nap time, and instead of trying to peel Damian off from him and put him in the crib, he's decided to just let the kid pass out in his arms and use the opportunity to take a nap himself.

Apparently it's bad to always let babies sleep with you, but Damian's not going to be this small forever. Might as well enjoy holding him like this in pure peace while he can.

-o-o-o-o-

It seems Zatanna was generous with her prediction, as he wakes up with his breath being knocked out of him. Damian, his rightful age and dressed in his full Robin uniform, scrambles off of Dick's chest. It's all knees and elbows, and Dick's left rubbing his ribs as Damian pats his body, as if making sure he's really a 10 year old boy and not an infant.

"Good to have you back," Dick grunts, rubbing his eyes and holding back a grin.

Damian whirls on him and points an accusing finger. "I don't remember what all happened," he hisses, "but you will delete any photos immediately."

Dick bursts into laughter, grabbing Damians pointed hand and tugging him into a proper hug. Damian squawks just a little, but relents when Dick squeezes him tighter than what he would to an infant. Yes. This feels right. Baby Damian was cute and cuddly, but he really missed the prickly attitude of this rascal.

"Okay," he says, releasing his charge. "I'll delete the photos, after we tell Alfred you're back and you've changed out of the suit."

Damian huffs and nods. "That was horrible."

"I don't know, I thought it was fun," Dick teases. Damian glares at him and Dick grins back.

Yeah, he missed his kid.

[lily-drake]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE, THE BEST BAT BOY OF THEM ALL!!! YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND!!!!!!

Happy Birthday Tim

Tim never really cared for his birthday, afterall nobody ever remembered it, and he doubted that Bruce would care.  He had never shown much of an interest in him, which was fine since he wasn’t supposed to get close to him.  His entire job as Robin was to make sure Batman didn’t go crazy, he wasn’t supposed to get attached.  So he didn’t, at least that’s what he told himself.  It was around 10:45 PM when Tim went upstairs at Alfred’s request.  Timidly the 14 year old walked into the kitchen only to be met with a small white cake.  Upon closer inspection the cake had red and green letting that spelled out in neat scroll, “Happy Birthday Timothy” with perfectly cut strawberries decorating the sides.  Tim stared at the cake in awe, he’d never been given a birthday cake before, except at galas; but that didn’t count as he wasn’t really aloud to eat any.

“Good to see you up here Master Timothy.  Happy birthday young sir.  I apologize for the others absence, but I’m afraid that they are ‘busy’.”

Tim swiftlet lifted up his arms in a placating manner,

“Oh no, it’s fine.  Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t want to bother anyone.”

Alfred gave him a small smile and nodded.

“Well, I believe that it is time for a bit of cake.”

Alfred walked around the counter and pulled out a plate, for, and knife before he cut a large piece and plated it.  Tim held back tears as he took his first bite of the cake.  This was the best cake he had ever had, and this was definitely his favorite birthday.

*******

Tim stared at the computer screen in front of him trying to figure out what he was missing.  He was tired, he hadn’t slept in a few days, and he was on his 8th cup of coffee from that hour alone.

“Tim, come with me!”

Dick said, suddenly on his right side.  Out of habit he turned and threw a punch at him.  Dick quickly ducked and laughed.

“Your getting faster baby bird.”

Tim sighed and rolled his eyes turning back to the computer.

“What do you need, Dick?”

He asked typing something onto the screen and scrunching his brow in frustration at the facts in front of him.  Dick rolled his eyes and sighed before he grabbed Tim and pulled him from the computer chair and onto his feet.  Tim groaned and tried to pull away in protest, but Dick overpowered him and he was dragged up the stairs.  Tim looked around to see where he was so he could make a quick escape if necessary.  When he looked forward again he saw he was being dragged to one of the main room doors.  He was thinking and going through all of the things he could have missed or forgotten, but nothing came to mind.  When the door opened the lights were off until they suddenly turned on and loud voices screamed,

“Happy birthday!”

From all around the room.  Tim blinked a few times everything catching up to him as he looked around and saw his family; Bruce, Alfred, Barbara, Stephanie, Cass, and Dick all around him.  The room was covered in decorations and on the table sat a decent sized 3 tier cake, just like the one he had had when turned fourteen, but bigger.  Tim ran through his memory and tried to recall what the date was and froze.  Oh, it was his 16th birthday, he had forgotten all about it.  He was pulled out of his stooped by Steph grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the table were 16 candles lined the rim of the cake and in the center it said, “Happy 16th Birthday Tim!” in the neatest cursive with a robin made of frosting right below it.  There was also neatly plated and perfectly made sushi on another table near them.  Tim smiled as everyone began to sing happy birthday to him and when he was done he blew out the candles happy and content with his day.  There was so much warmth that spread through his chest as he talked and ate cake with his family.  So much joy that surrounded the manor, he even saw Bruce smile.  Tim didn’t need to wish for anything, he was happy, and that’s all he could ever wish for.

*******

Tim looked at his watch and frowned.  He was now officially 19, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered much now.  He was alone in Paris training with Lady Shiva, and his family didn’t care.  They were the ones who kicked him out afterall, he wasn’t wanted.  He sat under a shady tree bench in the park and watched as people talked and interacted with eachother.  It was peaceful, but that didn’t fill the hollowness he felt in his chest.  As he stood and began to walk away he felt someone crash into him and fell foreword, someone landing on his back.  Quickly the person got up and began to call out apologies obviously embarrassed.  Tim got up and turned around and came face to face with a girl about his age with dark black hair that tinted blue in the light and show startlingly bright bluebell eyes.  The girl was still talking and he wasn’t sure if she had even breathed yet.

“Hey, it’s ok.  Don’t worry about it.”

The girl immediately bit her lip and bowed her head as she tried to hide her face.  Tim smiled at the girl who was slightly shorter than him.

“I’m Tim.”

He said casually as he held out his hand.  The girl gave an awkward smile before excepting his hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Marinette.  Sorry again.”

“It’s nice to meet you Marinette.  Do you know where any good coffee shops are, I haven’t slept in a while and I really need a pick me up to finish my things.”

Marinette lit up and nodded.

“I totally understand.  I design and commissions keep me up all night half the time.  I live in a bakery and have concocted the best wake up coffee.  My friends say it’s very dangerous and I’m going to kill myself with it one day, but all well.  Why sleep when you can get things done?!”

Tim smiled at the girl as she began to walk and talk.  She was cute and was very dramatic in the way she spoke and expressed herself.  They walked across the street to a small bakery, the one Marinette must live in, and walked to the front where a short Asian woman stood near the register.  When the woman saw Marinette her smile grew as she welcomed them.

“I’m gonna make one of my specials for him!”

Marinette called out as she went to the back and started making some kind of coffee concoction.  The woman rolled her eyes, but she still held an amused smile.

“Hello, I’m Sabine.  Please choose a sweet, you’ll need it if you’re going to drink her “Miracle Cure”, as the college students like to call it.”

“Thank miss.  Please, call me Tim.”

He said giving her a small smile back as he browsed the selection.  In the display he noticed lots of animal themed treats and smiled.  There were many ladybug and cat themed ones as well as an orange fox, a turtle, a bee, a blue snake, a monkey, and a red dragon.  It was an interesting choice of animals and he wondered if they were important in some way here.  He found a small tarte aux fruits with an assortment of fruits that formed the red dragon.  When he looked up he saw the woman waiting for him still wearing her friendly smile.

“Could I please have the Tarte aux fruits du dragon please?”

“Of course dear.”

Carefully she opened the door to the refrigerated case and grabbed one of the fruit tarts and carefully put it in a small box.  Tim went to the register right as Marinette had finished and placed the large drink in front of him.  He pulled out his wallet but was stopped by Marinette’s hand.

“Nope, on the house.  An apology for earlier.”

She said with a bright smile.  Tim was shocked and felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in years begin to bloom once again.  He gently took the coffee from her hands and carefully picked up the small box with a plastic fork atop it.

“Thank you, Marinette.  That’s very kind of you.”

Her smile brightened and before Tim could stop or even think of what he was saying the words had already left his mouth,

“If you’re free, do you want to walk around Paris with me?”

Marinette blinked for a moment shocked, but then smiled again and nodded.

“Sure, that sounds nice!”

She took off the apron she had been wearing while making the coffee and hung it up on a wrack before walking out from behind the counter snd grabbing his arm and almost dragging him out the door.  When she realized what she was doing she quickly dropped it slightly blushing and scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment.

“S-sorry.  I should have asked first.”

Tim snickered a little, she was adorable.

“No it’s fine, so where to first?”

Tim asked as he gently placed the tart in his satchel and sipped the coffee.  When he did he felt his mind begin to clear and he felt more awake than he had in a long time.  He understood why it was called Miracle Cure now, this stuff was amazing!

“Well, where were you thinking of?”

“I was thinking of going to the Arc de Triomphe then head towards the Effiel Tower.”

Marinette beamed and nodded and began to walk towards the Arc de Triomphe.  She knew the path by heart as she often went there for inspiration.  The two talked the whole way there and bonded over their love of coffee and insomniac tendencies.  As they arrived at their first destination the sat on the steps and watched people pass them.  Tim pulled out the small tart and began to slowly eat it and smiled.  It tasted like Alfred’s cooking, though he didn’t want to admit that this might just be a bit better.  He glanced over at Marinette and noticed that she now had a sketchbook out and was drawing something.  He didn’t want to disturb her as he didn’t like being interrupted when he was really into something and let her draw as he watched the people.  Suddenly there was a loud crash.  He looked up and was shocked to see a giant child walking around smashing and destroying buildings.  He looked over and saw that Marinette had disappeared and he began to panic.

He stood up and began to move so he could get a better place to watch and analyze what was happening so that he could see if he needed to interfere.  He watched silently from a roof and saw a bunch of people begin to surround the child all with the same theme.  His mind flashed to the animals in the bakery and connected the dots as he glanced at all of the different people in animal costumes.  He watched as the Ladybug ordered everyone on the plan and on what to do which lead him to believe that she was the leader of this group.  It only took a few minutes and he watched the cat hero completely destroy a toy car from the giant child’s hand and a purple feather and butterfly flew out.  The ladybug hero quickly caught them and released them into the air.  She threw the object she had summoned into the air and he watched in amazement as thousands, maybe millions, of small ladybugs flew around the damage done and repaired all of it, including the bodies that had not been moving moments ago.

Tim ran back to the Arc de Triomphe and waited there to see if Marinette would come back.  It took a few minutes and then he saw her figure running towards him with panic and worry.

“Tim, I’m so sorry!  Are you ok?  I shouldn’t have left like that, I’m so sorry.”

Tim gave her an awkward smile and nodded.

“It’s fine, you came back afterall.”

She smiled at him and he lifted his arm out for her to take,

“Shall we continue our walk Mademoiselle?”

Tim asked with a slight bow.  Marinette giggled and gave a small curtsy before she placed her hand atop of his.

“Why of course Monsieur.”

They both laughed as they walked.  They enjoyed the silence for a bit before Tim asked what had happened.

Marinette gave him a sad sigh and explained the situation that had been happening in Paris for about 4 years now.  Tim was shocked that this hadn’t made it to the Justuce League, especially if it had been happening for four entire years.  Tim asked a few more questions that Marinette happily answered and they felt happy and content in the warm companionable silence.  Tim thought of all of his past birthdays, and he knew that this one was on the top 5 best list of his favorite birthdays.

[mollymauktealeef]

uhm, for your prompts: geraskier, with jaskier hiding geralt (and maybe ciri) from nilfgaard in plain sight, like. without magic, he manages to make the soldiers go away with empty hands? thank you!

sorry this took longer than expected! i haven’t been feeling very well recently so it got left alone for a while. hope you like it though!

warning/s: none

(ao3)

“You there!”

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier mutters sharply recognising the no nonsense tone of a solider and feeling the dread settle in his gut like a block of ice. 

Geralt’s fingers twitch at his side, his swords are sadly tucked away under Roach’s blanket just under Ciri’s leg for safekeeping as she sits astride the saddle. 

They’d been reluctantly placed there - at Jaskier’s suggestion - so they could move through town unhindered by locals looking for a Witcher’s aid or at least so the trio could draw a little less attention than they normally would. Something they might have gotten away with if Geralt hadn’t been sour about hiding his swords so much he’d childishly left down his hood. Revealing his rather distinctive and famous white hair for all the land to see.  

And now there are soldiers.

So the idea of going incognito had clearly failed in it’s execution and now Geralt is without his weapons in easy reach as the squelch of many heavy boots marching through the mud approach them from behind. 

Jaskier watches out of the corner of his eye as Geralt’s hand releases the reins for Roach’s bridle and skims along her flank to the hidden pommel slowly. Jaskier shakes his head in warning and thankfully the Witcher listens, stilling his hand. 

The last thing they need is more attention and Geralt beheading the local guardsmen would be like sending up a flare for Nilfgaard. 

Jaskier chews on his lip, racking his brain for a way out of their predicament. He see’s Geralt’s hand move again, not for the swords this time but to rest on Ciri’s shaking knee in comfort. The princess huddles under her cloak, shrinking away from the danger approaching them and Jaskier’s heart aches for her. The lingering trauma of being hunted has left a stain on the once happy princess that Jaskier and Geralt have tried their best to erase. But situations like these always undo that hard work in moments.  

Jaskier sighs at the loss of progress shrinking deeper into the folds of her cloak and decides on a course of action, one that might just avoid darkening that stain on Ciri’s heart. 

“Oi! You deaf?” Another voice yells and Jaskier straightens his spine and prepares to dazzle his audience into submission. 

He spins round dramatically, plastering a wide happy grin across his face. It’s not his most eye-catching outfit but he should be able to draw attention away from the Witcher and his child surprise well enough. Presentation is key for misdirection after all. 

Jaskier glances over the small patrol quickly, filing away the small details that he can use to his advantage. Just like any other ballroom or tavern he’s stepped foot in. Reading the room is how you own it and Jaskier wouldn’t be a famous bard if he couldn’t quickly and effectively discern the lay of the land. A loud tavern full of boisterous laughter needs dance music and bawdy songs, a noble wedding with dignified guests needs jaunty jigs with easy beats to dance to and when enough wine has been drunk, a few romantic epics to get everyone in the mood. The stage is a little different but the details are the same. 

He silently curses as he recognises the dark armour and golden sun stretching across it and prays to whatever deity likes Geralt in one piece in the vain hope that things will go smoothly. But for now, it's up to him and every skill he’s honed at every banquet and party he’s ever been to, to get them through this peacefully. 

“Fine gentlemen, what can I aid such noble soldiers with today?” he greets loudly as he skips forward putting himself between the approaching soldiers and Geralt. A few of the men flinch at his volume. Jaskier notes the overly red cheeks and bloodshot eyes, the slight sway in their stance. Too much patrolling the tavern rather than the streets and very recently too.  

He has to play this right. Be loud and obnoxious and they’ll want to get rid of him quickly to ease their aching heads. Too much though and he runs the risk of raising questions. It’ll be a fine line to tread, a thin tightrope between freedom and a noose but it’s something he’s managed before and for far lesser stakes. 

“Your friend, where does he hail from?” The Captain asks shrewdly, eyeing Geralt’s exposed white hair with narrowed eyes. Jaskier rocks on his heels full of nervous energy. 

“My cousin you mean? Well he and his daughter come from Lettenhove of course! As do I,” Jaskier bows deeply, throwing as much theatricality into his performance as possible, “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. A pleasure to meet you, good sir!”

He doesn’t often drag out his nobility but the situation calls for it. Perhaps enough for the men to back off, in fear of upsetting nobility. 

“And your...cousin’s white hair? A familial trait?” The captain asks skeptically. His title isn’t enough to brush away their questions but there is a touch more hesitancy than before so Jaskier counts it in his favour.  He still grimaces a little and racks his brain for a plausible lie to help them escape the situation with as little screaming and entrails as possible. Tiny streams in deep forests are not ideal for removing Nilfgaardian guts from a Witcher’s hair after all and after this fiasco getting Geralt to agree to enter any form of civilisation will be a nightmare. 

So Jaskier does what he does best. 

He tells a story. 

He lets his face drop into a more serious expression and sidles up closer, a little too close for comfort, for a not so much conspiratorial whisper, “No, no, my good sir. Not at all. You see, it's such a terrible thing. Truly terrible. A curse.”

At least two of the men take an involuntary step back as though such a thing could be catching. Good, Jaskier thinks snidely, superstitious morons swallow a lie father easier than a wise man. 

“Twas laid upon him by a spiteful sorceress. He’s quite sensitive over the whole thing as I’m sure you can imagine,” Jaskier placed a hand over his heart as he hammed up the performance a degree or two, “My poor dear sweet cousin spurned the witches advances you see, his heart already belonged to another. Fiona’s mother, she hailed from Nilfgaard, such a sweet woman. Not that it mattered to the spiteful witch! The sorceress was quite enraged by it all and so cursed my poor cousin to bear the likeness of the ugliest creature she knew, a Witcher.”

Jaskier winces internally and sends a silent apology to Geralt and hopes the man won’t take too much offence but there’s no other option for them. 

“How unfortunate,” one of the men comments in a heartfelt manner and Jaskier dabs at his dry eye in agreement.

“Yes it is and such happenstance that we should be looking for a Witcher,” the Captain says, unconvinced. But Jaskier has the rest of his audience on tenterhooks and a crowd can sway a single mind.

He scoff’s loudly and slams his hands onto his hips. 

“Nothing but trouble I say, for we’ve been stopped by every knight and good soldier from here to the Pontar! It’s made our journey to Oxenfurt doubly long and I’m due to begin teaching next week! The delay!” Jaskier wails dramatically and the men collectively wince at his volume and shrillness, “Thankfully with my tenured position the faculty will be most forgiving of my lateness! But truly it has been nothing but trouble!”

“Hmm,” the Captain wavers and Jaskier pushes his advantage, leaning in a touch too far again. 

“I shall tell you good sir the best way to tell a Witcher from my unfortunate cousin is the swords, for Witcher’s carry two on their backs and my dear sweet cousin can only swing a pitchfork!”

“Viscount’s right Captain, no swords,” one of the men speaks up and they all turn to look at Geralt’s back, covered in a muddy cape but bereft of the notable twin swords. 

“He could have thrown them,” the Captain suggests but quietly, not fully believing his own words and Jaskier tries not to let his relief show. 

“Thrown them?! Why my dear Captain, that would be a waste of fine silver and steel! Who in their right mind would throw away a silver sword! Pah! A fool, that’s who!” 

The Captain ruminates for a few moments and then nods, “Right you are, carry on m’lord.”

Jaskier’s knees feel a little weak as the men shuffle round and begin their march back up the street they came. He waves them off jauntily despite the nausea swirling in his gut. 

“Many blessings to you and safe journey my good men!”

As soon as the men are out of sight Jaskier stumbles as the relief falls on him like a ton of bricks. Geralt grips his bicep, pulling him back up as he stares down the street after the patrol. 

“Gone?” Jaskier asks and Geralt nods. 

“Thank Melitele,” Jaskier exhales and drops his head against Geralt’s shoulder heavily. 

“Ugliest creatures?” Geralt asks and Jaskier groans.

“Darling I apologise wholeheartedly for such a lie but how else was I to excuse your appearance?”

Geralt snorts, thankfully with more amusement than anger, “Good thinking.”

“Thank you love but might I suggest putting several fields between us and them before more questions are asked?” Jaskier points out and Geralt wraps an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, squeezing him close for a moment before letting him stand on his own steadying legs. 

Geralt takes Roach’s reins once more as Jaskier falls into step next to him, he spares a glance over his shoulder at the near empty street behind them and hopes they can put enough road between the patrol and them before nightfall to breathe a little easier. 

“Are you really a viscount Jaskier?” Ciri questions quietly, hunched over under her heavy cape atop Roach. Jaskier startles at the sudden question but settles into a sardonic smile.

“Unfortunately so my darling, though the title does have its uses here and there.”

Ciri thankfully doesn’t press the issue as she flicks her gaze over her shoulder worridily. More concerned with the soldiers than his checkered past. 

“I didn’t think they’d leave so easily,” she mumbles and Jaskier reaches over to pat her leg softly. 

“Fear not my dear, they were easy to fool and won’t be following us anytime soon.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ciri asks, her tone skeptical and a little sharp. A princess on the run yes, but still a princess and one growing from a child into a woman and not shy about demanding she be treated as such. Jaskier chuckles. 

“Simple. I saw all I needed to, to lead them astray. I’ll teach you how to read men like open books soon enough darling,” Jaskier winks and Ciri worried at her bottom lip for a few quiet moments.

“Teach me now?” 

Jaskier shares a glance with Geralt, raising an eyebrow up in question and Geralt simply nods his permission. Well if his Witcher is okay with it then who is he to argue giving the young exiled princess another knife in her growing arsenal. 

“Very well, what did you notice about them?” 

She ponders for a moment, “There weren’t that many?” Ciri offers hesitantly. Jaskier beams encouragingly. 

“Well spotted! A small patrol left in an unremarkable town. Tells us quite a bit. These fools aren’t high on the pecking order. They aren’t given more responsibility or better yet aren’t trusted with more,” Jaskier explains and Ciri leans forward in rapt attention. “What else could you see?” 

“They hesitated,” Geralt says and Jaskier turns his attention on the Witcher’s soft smile. 

“Very good my love,” Jaskier pecks Geralt’s cheek in reward, earning a giggle from Ciri. 

“That matters?” she asks. 

“Indeed, a lack of confidence speaks to their inexperience or perhaps they’ve acted hastily in the past and been reprimanded making them hesitant to act similarly again,” Jaskier explains, falling into his old teaching habits easily. 

“What else did you see,” Ciri questions curiously and Jaskier hums thoughtfully. 

“Dented armour that hasn’t yet been fixed, means coin is tight or flowing elsewhere. Mud caked into clothes and bulging chest plates. These men have become lazy and spend more nights in a tavern than marching around town. Ruddy cheeks and bloodshot eyes tell me they enjoy their drink, a bit too much most likely. Given the hour it was either a heavy night of drinking with a spectacular hangover or they’ve just come from the tavern. Whichever it is, their minds and body long for beds not battle and that my fair girl is where you can take advantage,” Jaskier lists and Ciri looks suitably impressed with his observations. 

“Enough to confuse them?”

“Perhaps enough to lose them in a winding tale with dramatic flair,” Jaskier shrugs, remembering many a glazed drunken gaze and how he used it to his advantage in the past. 

“The loudness helped too,” Geralt offers slyly and Ciri laughs as Jaskier pretends to take offence though he preens at the small but fond smile on his Witcher’s face and the ease settling around Ciri’s shoulders once more. 

“Nothing makes a drunken soldier recoil quicker than a loud bright bard,” Jaskier winks.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Nothing But A Scratch

Ivar x Princess reader

Word Count: 3155

Warnings: Tiny mention of violence, a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, Ivar may be out of character (Shrugs).

Summary: Ivar is wounded during battle.

My entry for @maggiescarborough’s 400 Followers Writing Challenge! Congratulations Sophie! 😊❤️For some reason, I always write more than 2k for your challenges 😂

I’m not exactly sure what to say about this. I struggled quite a bit writing it. I’m really hard on myself 😅Hope ya’ll enjoy!

Prompt: The character gets seriously hurt.

According to google translate (An unreliable source, I know), moron in Russian is Debil.

Thanks to @shannygoatgruff​ for beta reading

...

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself.

The enemy sword was swift, the blade slicing through his armor and deep into the flesh of his belly.

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself, when blood began to pour from his wound and past his lips, the adrenaline pushing him forward.

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself, when he swayed on his feet, his crutch no longer of use to him.

It was nothing but a scratch, he told himself, when his legs twisted, and his body collided with the muddy ground, completely vulnerable and surrounded by his enemies.

…

Ivar dreamed.

He dreamed of Kattegat in the days of his youth, back when he trailed behind his older brothers through the dirt with his hands, only to come to the painful realization that he would never be like them. He dreamed of his mother and her tears, his pride separating them despite how much she pleaded for him not to go.

He dreamed of the salty waters of the Northern Sea and the unforgiving winds that destroyed their ship, splintering it to pieces. He dreamed of Ràn dragging him into the depths of her dark abyss, collecting another prize for her realm of the drowned.

He dreamed of England’s sandy shores, of land ready for the taking, and of the weak-minded men who ruled over it. He dreamed of little Prince Alfred, now a King, holding out his hand to offer him friendship in the form of a chess piece.

He dreamed of Ragnar in the way he remembered best, tired, and decrepit in his final days, a hermit, and yet, in his eyes, he was still the greatest man who ever lived.

It is not your time yet, Ragnar told him, the world is at your feet. Be ruthless.

He dreamed of Kiev and its massive wooden gates, golden palace walls, and luxurious Byzantine silks. He dreamed of the ambitious Prince Oleg, and of sweet, sweet, Igor. He dreamed of emotionless puppets made to stand with perfect posture while he still struggled to keep up with his own.

He dreamed of the Rus princess with the mysterious umber eyes, always seeking him out in a room. He dreamed of her dark hair hidden under white and gold silks, and of the jewels that adorned her neck and wrists, as befitting a princess.

He dreamed of her smile, never fully reaching her eyes, and of the way her fingers stroked his cheek at night when the fires burned bright against the darkness when her maids kept close watch outside her door.

He dreamed of the smooth expanse of her skin, of her gasps of delight, and her moans of pleasure. He dreamed of her mouth on his, the urgency they both felt as she left crescent moon shapes over his shoulders, clinging on to the precious time that seemed to slip away.

He dreamed of the day he stole her away from her brother, away from the shelter of the Kievan court, and into the safety of his arms. She watched her brother die that day, by the hands of her own nephew, her dark eyes glossing over, but never daring to let the tears fall.

He dreamed of making her his wife, of her in a crown of wildflowers and the sun illuminating the different shades of her hair.

He dreamed of her smile, finally reaching her eyes.

He could hear her calling out to him, begging for him to come to her.

Ivar, please, she cried, Wake up.

He tried searching for her, arm outstretched and fingers reaching in futile attempts. It was impossible, his body fighting through what felt like tar. He sunk deeper into the darkness, away from her soothing voice, and into Ràn’s abyss where Ivar the Boneless was forgotten.

…

It had been a week before he had shown any signs of consciousness.

7 days of fever, chills, and silence that had him teetering between Midgard and Valhalla.

For 7 days his army laid low after their truce with the Saxon king. For all the attacks Wessex had endured from the Northmen, he valued peace over war, forgiveness over vengeance. A true Christian king.

Alfred was not ruthless.

For 7 days the heathen army waited impatiently, wondering whether the youngest son of Ragnar was to survive, or whether a funeral was to be organized. Some believed he would die. Of course, the wound he received at the hands of a Saxon warrior was a deadly one. A deep gash across his stomach had been opened to infection, causing the fever to take hold of him the first few nights. His legs, more shattered than ever, would make surviving seemingly impossible.

But still, they waited.

The former princess of Kiev waited by his side, as still as a statue of a saint. She kept watch over him at night when the rest of the army was asleep, feeling more lost than she ever did in her brother’s court. She prayed for his soul rigorously, cross clutched tightly in her hand, hard enough to leave an imprint in its wake.

7 days of uncertainty, of prayer and fasting, of fear and loneliness. 7 days of hope and hopelessness, surrounded by untrustworthy men.

But still, she waited.

…

It was the dead of night when Ivar broke from his delirium.

He wasn’t on the battlefield anymore. He couldn’t hear the screams of his fellow warriors, the clashing of sword against sword, nor could he smell the scent of iron spewing from the blood of both enemy and ally. It was just...darkness.

Perhaps he was in Valhalla, he thought, though if that were true, then the stories were wrong. It was rather underwhelming.

But no, he was not in Valhalla either, not by the scent at least. It smelled of dried herbs, and of that revolting root the Rus princess often drank as a tea. What was it again? Ginseng?—

And then he forced his eyes to open, lashes ripping apart after spending days glued together.

Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and he felt as if he were suffocating under the pile of furs thrown over him. His heart was beating erratically, nearly bursting from the confines of his chest as his body fought to stabilize itself.

He wheezed, his throat feeling dryer than the deserts of the Silk Road. His tongue darted out in an attempt to wet his cracked lips with little success.

Moving was an issue. He couldn’t. It hurt.

His attempt to sit up failed as a yelp ripped free from his lips, croaky and in pure agony. He fell back against the makeshift cot with a grunt.

The pain was excruciating, hot, and vicious in his lower abdomen, like a raven fighting to claw its way in. His legs, though always in a fragile state, felt worse than they had in the years since adopting the use of his braces and crutch.

He struggled to crane his neck, quick to map out his surroundings as best he could. He was in his own tent, that much was evident, as he always had it specifically set to his liking. His weapons were laid out in a corner, along with his ruined armor, crutch, and leg braces. The useless things landed him in a cot, fighting for survival.

“My love?” Her voice was enough to calm his wild heart, his neck snapping in the direction of her voice.

The princess’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from what he could only assume had been days of weeping. Beside her was a steaming cup of tea, producing that horrible smell of Ginseng that made him want to gag. When had she the time to steal the root before they left Novgorod?

Wrapped around her wrist was her gold beaded rosary, bright and shining in the candlelight. She held the cross tightly in her small fist, knuckles white from the pressure. He wondered how long she had sat by his side, praying, waiting for him to recover.

Her fingers dropped the cross, her soft hands reaching for him. Ivar could feel her hot tears drip over his bare chest as she leaned over him.

“Ivar—” She choked his name, sobs already taking hold of her body as she cupped his warm face, “You’re awake! Thank God!” More tears poured from her eyes as her mouth quivered. She lowered herself to her knees, grabbing his hand and placing kisses on the surface.

Ivar wanted to wrap her in his arms, to tell her he was fine, that the gods have not taken him yet, but his arms felt as fragile as his legs, weak from days of disuse. Instead, he brings his fingertips to her flushed cheeks, forcing her to look up at him.

“Hey,” He croaked out, using his thumb to catch another falling tear before running his fingers through her hair, “Stop crying, please, love.” His voice was not much more than a whisper. He sounded more like an old toad than a human, but it was enough to bring her weeping down to mere whimpering.

“It has been days, I thought perhaps…” She trailed off, sniffling before continuing, “I feared the worst.”

The princess was far more worried for his well-being than he ever was.

Ivar was quite content with the idea of falling in battle and ascending to Valhalla. She had not agreed with such sentiments.

It is not your time yet, his father had said to him, the world is at your feet. Be ruthless.

“It is not my time yet,” He repeated Ragnar’s words, his hand continuing gentle motions through her soft hair, “Valhalla will have to wait a little longer, hmm?”

“Valhalla,” She hiccups, shaking her head, not fully understanding the Viking fascination with death, “Not with the way you throw yourself in battle.” She mutters, wiping her eyes.

She stood, going to the far side of the tent to fetch a bucket with a wooden ladle. She brings a hefty scoop of water to his lips, holding his head up carefully to aid him.

He drank like a mad man, the water running past his chin and down his neck.

“Debil,” She chastised him lovingly in her native tongue, eyes still moist, “Idiot. Where were your warriors?”

“Fighting for themselves,” He gasps, the cold water soothing the dryness of his throat, “Or have you forgotten the ways of war?” He croaks, his lips curling into a smile.

“What would I know of war, my love?” She offers, setting the bucket and the ladle aside once he had his fill, “Or have you forgotten I was but a sheltered princess.” She tried to make a joke of it, but she only sounded miserable saying such words. She brings a hand to smooth down his wild hair, braids unraveling into a long-twisted mess.

“In war,” Ivar begins, eyes fluttering as her nails scratched at his scalp, “You either survive or die.”

“And I suppose you wanted to die then?” A bitter tone was followed by a bitter smile. He cleared his throat, his tired eyes watching how her expression shifted through so many emotions.

His reply was honest. “If that is what the gods intended for me, then so be it. It would have been an honor.”

“What honor is there in taking me from my home, and leaving me to live out my life away from my own family and amongst men I do not know?” She snapped, though the anger was short-lived, and she lowered her eyes.

She was intrigued by Ivar from the moment she had set eyes on him, like a moth to a flame. She was happy to have left with him, happy to have relinquished her title and to have left such a sour life behind. Ivar offered her freedom, adventure, and love, things she never understood the meaning of in Kiev, but she was a fool to believe he was invincible. She had seen him rally crowds to chant his name, had seen his strengths despite his weaknesses, and yet, he bleeds red as every other man does. War takes the lives of men, and Ivar was not immune to such a fate. He welcomed it.

“You are all I have in this world, Ivar.” She spoke gently, as she did when he dreamed of her. Her fingers shifted to trace over the dark lines inked upon his heated skin. The fever had barely broken, but at least he was conscious now. “Please, my love, all I ask is that you stay alive.” Her lips quivered, “I do not think my heart could bear to see you like this again.”

Ivar felt his heart sink.

He knew she wasn’t made to live in a war camp amongst warriors. She was born into a life of gold and silver, into luxury that so many others could only dream of, and yet, she chose to go with him, a fallen king with worthless legs and a heart as dark as coal. He once had the world at his feet. He would do it all again, for her. He had to.

“Do you regret it?” He finally asked though something within him feared her answer.

“Regret what?”

“Regret leaving Kiev with me?” He reiterated, observing her features for any hint of disappointment.

“No,” The response was immediate and without hesitation, “I have been happier with you than I have been all my years in that palace.” She sighs, her hair creating a barrier between them when she lowered her head, “Oleg was not a good man.” Her words were laced in sorrow. Her brother's death still weighed heavy on her heart.

“You deserve more than this,” He said, eyes closing for a moment before bringing them back to her. Her dark brows curved up in a worrisome expression he’d seen on her many times before. “You have given up so much for me, a lonely cripple,” He chuckles when she made noises of protest, “Only the gods know why.” She considers him in silence, noting how unreal the blue of his irises were.

“Ivar?” She questioned, setting her palm on his warm chest and over his heart, silently thankful it was finally beating at a normal pace.

“You’re a princess, my love. The battlefield is no place for you.” He places his hand over hers, giving it a light squeeze.

“All I ask of you is to stay alive.” She spoke softly, her lips curving into a smile, though it wasn’t enough to reach her eyes. “I will not ask you for anything else.” She feared being alone, and rightfully so. She’d been alone all her life in the Kievan court, as expressionless and empty as those Byzantine puppets Oleg was so fond of, donning smiles that never reached her eyes.

“My sweet girl,” He chuckles with a shake of his head, “Come, I wish to embrace you.” Planting both hands firmly on the sides of the cot, he forces himself into a seated position, groaning all the while, feeling the fire burn in the pit of his belly. He grunts, eyes screwed tight as he forced himself upright.

“Ivar!” She scolds, more worried than anything else, “Stop moving! You’ll fester your wound.” She peels off the furs to reveal the gauze wrapped tightly around his mind section, the once white cloth now stained red. “Christ. I must call the healer.”

“Don’t,” Ivar pants, tugging her wrist and quickly bringing her to his side, “Please. I wish for a few minutes to ourselves before I must face the world in this weak state. Grant me this one thing, hm?”

“But your wound—”

“What, this?” He jerks his chin down toward his abdomen with a tired smile, “It is nothing but a scratch.”

“Ivar.” She warned him.

“Princess.” The amusement was clear in his tone, artfully masking his pain. He gripped her waist, tugging her forward and into his arms with a grunt. She smelled of the English forest and of summer blossoms. “I will never leave you.” He mutters the promise into her waist, still ignoring the pain, “I will give you everything you deserve, my love.”

“What of your army?” She questions quietly, fingers dancing over his bicep, “And the Saxon king? Your brother tells me he seeks peace.” Ivar scoffs.

“And he shall get it...for now.” He concludes with an angry twitch of his brow.

“What do you intend to do?” She laid her cheek over the messy strands of his chestnut brown hair.

“Recover, and take you away from this miserable land I should have never brought you to in the first place.”

“Oh, Ivar,” He felt her plant a kiss upon his hair, “I belong wherever you are.” He grunts, gripping her tightly as if she would slip right through his fingers like sand.

“Marry me.” He mutters into her soft linen dress, suddenly feeling as shy as he did when he was a boy.

“Hmm?”

“Marry me.” He said, louder this time, needier, a plea falling from his lips as he tightened his hold on her. He shifts his head to look at her, imagining her with a crown of wildflowers nestled in her soft tresses. Her eyes grew round at his statement, lips parted as if to speak.

“Truly?” She asks, “Or has the fever gone to your head?” Ivar rolled his eyes fondly.

“Why would I bother asking you if I did not mean it, hmm?” His chin lightly grazed her abdomen as he peeked up at her through his lashes. “I will make you a queen, lay the world at your feet if you allow me.”

How many tears could this woman produce? He thought though he was more than satisfied knowing they were tears of joy when she erupted in giggles.

“I accept,” She wiped her eyes before arching down to place a kiss on his lips, “But, under one condition.”

“Oh?” Ivar pulls away from her, brows raised, “Go on, what is it?”

“You must drink the ginseng tea,” She offers, taking the lukewarm tea and offering it to him, “The healers would prescribe it to Oleg whenever he came back wounded from battle. It will revive your strength and clear your body of infection.” Ivar eyes the cup wearily, nose flaring at the abhorrent smell. He didn’t like it.

“It smells horrid.” He complained.

“You fight battles against fearsome enemies, and yet, are too afraid to drink an herbal tonic?” She scoffs. Ivar narrows his eyes, considers her words before muttering under his breath.

“...Very well.” He takes the cup from her, face pinched after taking a sip, “Are you satisfied now? Will you marry me?” She nods fervently, her hands laced together in her joy. A blinding smile settled on her lips like never before.

It finally reached her eyes.

...

@heavenly1927​ @didiintheblog​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @leilabeaux​ @shannygoatgruff​ @inforapound​ @walkxthexmoon​ @hecohansen31​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @peachyboneless​ @fuchsiagrasshopper​ @pomegranates-and-blood​

[pxheart]

A @damijonsecretsanta for @queerbutstillhere  I hope you like it! 

I don’t know what befell your original secret santa but I had lots of fun filling in for them :))) 

A bit late to wish you a merry xmas, so have a happy new year and a fantastic 2021! (surely better than 2020 at least 😩💕) 

Here is a little 1k fic to accompany the fanart ;) 

Winter bliss

The snow was beating down on Metropolis in a way that made Jon fear it might be caused by the supernatural. 

Not HIS problem however. He was done with super-heroing. Having to study for university finals, working at the coffee shop AND having such a boyfriend as Damian Wayne was more than enough work. 

And what a nice torture it was...

...the last part, at the very least. Finals were torture and no one could convince him otherwise. Working at the coffee shop was fine. Except on rush hour. That was hell. 

Sighing, he ran inside their complex, shaking out snow from his hair before getting inside. He knew that if he were to wet the floors, his adorable boyfriend would chew him out, and that was a scary thought. He might not go out every night to beat criminals anymore, but he could still kick ass. Especially HIS ass. 

Upon entering, he was greeted by a soft crackly music coming out from Damian’s -stolen form Wayne manor- vintage turntable. Sinatra was gently singing ‘Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away…”.

A nice spicy smell hung in the air, and when he reached their living room he found out why. A steaming cup of warm chai tea latte was waiting for him. Damian had a super secret amazing recipe he refused to share. It could either come from Alfred, or be some kind of adaption of a magic murder potion from the league of assassins, one never knew with Damian. Either way, it was delicious. 

He sipped from it thankfully, and raised his eyes to find...LEGS. 

Long, slender, beautiful legs raised in the air, twisting into a graceful bowed position. He followed their curve, to find…

He blushed. They had been dating for six months now, and sometimes he still couldn’t believe his luck. Damian was, simply putting it, gorgeous. People kept saying that the robin with the best butt was the first one, but that’s only because they had never got a chance to take a good look at Damian’s. 

Not that Jon wanted them to. Damian was his. And so was his ass, thank you very much. 

He gulped down his latte a bit more forcefully than was usually advised, and Damian bended his back even more, coming to touch the ground in front of his head in a perfectly executed ‘Urdhva Dhanurasana’, if Jon's memory of every time Damian had tried -and failed- to teach him anything about yoga was serving him right.

All the while, since this apparently was not hard enough, three puffballs were zigzagging through his arms and feet. One of them, an orange tabby kitten -that Jon had lovingly named 'Red the hot chili pepper menace'- even started to climb up Damian's yoga pant leg and Jon winced, knowing fully well his darling's skin was not as impervious as his to the tiny but sharp kitten claws. 

Damian, for his part, looked up at Jon, smiled, engaged his core strength and pulled himself up to a standing position, scooped up the cat, turned and…

"Hello, beloved. Had a nice day at school?" He asked, nonchalantly.

Jon wanted to scowl and say that "no, my day was actually terrible and I want to cry" but he found, as always, that he was unable to do anything but smile back like a love struck idiot when confronted by the image of Damian Wayne, ex fearless Robin, wearing a plush knitted sweater while kissing the head of a fluffy purring kitten. 

"It's  getting nicer by the second" he said softly, leaning down to gently kiss the other. 

Damian snaked one arm around his neck, inside his jacket, and then his shirt, his warm hand softly scratching between his shoulder blades and sending shocks of pleasure down his neck. Jon took it as an invitation to get closer, deepen the kiss and he licked the taste of jasmine tea off Damian's lips…

...until a sharp meow of protest didn't break the moment, and Damian let out a yelp of pain. 

Apparently Red the hot chili pepper kitty had not particularly enjoyed being squished between his two foster dads, and had protested loudly while he sank his sharp teeth to make the message clear. 

"Well. Get out of this wet jacket, beloved. You look like you need some cuddles" he said with a smirk, passing him the kitten and sliding the jacket off his shoulders for him. 

Jon felt his heart swell three times its size, and not for the first time he marveled at the softness Damian let himself show now. Once upon a time he used to keep it well hidden. He tried to be the perfect warrior, the emotionless killing machine his mother had bred him to be. Now that he had left that chapter behind, he had bloomed into the caring, kind sweet and funny person Jon had always known him to be and Jon… he didn't  think he could ever get tired of basking in it. 

He let himself be manhandled on the plush carpet by the sofa, in front of the tv, and melted back against Damian's embrace as he  sat right behind him, wrapping his legs around his shoulders and hugging him tight like a cute warm snuggle monkey. They stayed like that for a while, as silent as the snow falling outside their window. Jon closed his eyes and breathed in Damian's familiar homy scent, and felt the screams of the world that were constantly attacking his senses fade into blessed silence. 

"So" Damian muttered by his ear "how actually was your day?"

Jon sighed "Hellish. But I wasn't  lying, babe. Just being here with you I'm feeling blesses"

"Sap" Damian answered fondly.

He grabbed Jon's face and tilted it back to kiss his forehead, his nose, both his apple cheeks and then, finally, he pressed his lips against his.

Jon hummed happily, parted his lips to let Damian's tongue steal his breath away. 

If Red the hot chili pepper tried to stop them again, scaling Jon's pant leg and furiously scratching at his knee, no one paid him any notice.

He might not be a superhero anymore, but being an invulnerable half alien superman still had its advantages….

[batarella]

All Grown Up (Jason Todd x Reader)

Do I need a cleansing? Probably.

-Requested-

user88777777: “I'm not sure if you're doing requests? And of not that's ok but I have an idea?! Can you write a smut where Jason and reader are having sex in wayne manor and alfred walks in on them and Jason goes downstairs in the morning and Alfred's like "you're all grown up"

WORDS: 2213 WARNINGS: SEMI PUBLIC SEX IN THE FOREST. ORAL SEX. 69 WITH THE BEST DICK IN THE WORLD.

Masterlist

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You were so fucking horny.

He knew you had your hands right on top of his clothed abs on purpose. You couldn’t stop running your fingers down the hard crevices. Jason pulled on the throttle and drove faster out of the island, where there were trees littering an acre of empty lot and the road went straight into Wayne Manor. He was horny, too. You could see the sweat coming out of his neck. Burying your nose into his nape, your hand went further down.

“Playtime after we get off this bike, Y/N,” he said through his helmet. He was grinning ear to ear.

You inhaled into his neck. He turned further into the island, and the only light that showed the way was the motorcycle’s headlight. A movie date at the manor’s theater. That’s what he promised you. “What do you wanna watch, babe?”

“Your dick sliding in and out of my pussy,” you breathed, grazing your lips onto his skin. “Fuck.” He was hard. You could feel it.

“Never mind that movie, then.”

“Let’s do it at the cave. Bruce is out for patrol. No one will be there.”

“There are cameras at every corner. Unless you're into that stuff.” He winked. Jason sped even faster past the trees.

“How ‘bout the library? You can read a few of your classics while I suck you off-“

“Mother fucker, you're killing me.”

“I love you,” you grinned.

He slowed down his bike, just when you thought he wanted to get to the manor even faster. “Jay?”

The bike came to a complete stop. He parked it, took off his helmet, and took off yours. He pulled you up and kept kissing you hard while his hand squeezed your ass. Jason took your hands and walked you into the trees, farther from the road so no one could see them. “I’m so fucking hard. Let’s make this quick.”

He pushed your back against a tree trunk and pushed his much larger self against your body. Jason bit your lip, and your hands were all over him. Snaking under his shirt, your fingers tracing his pecs, his abs, then you held the large bulge on his pants. Jason pulled your shirt up your bra, then pulled them slightly down to expose your breasts to the cold, nipping air. Your heavy breaths were cut short when Jason trailed his hand up your cleavage, up to your neck, squeezing at just the amount of pressure that you loved.

His lips were so rough, teeth drawing blood from your lips, numbing them so wonderfully you moaned at the sensation. Jason forcefully flipped you over, pushing your front against the tree while you heard him unbuckle his pants off.

“Fuck,” you gasped, then he pulled down your pants just under your ass. A sharp sting on your ass cheek soon followed. Your hands gripped tightly onto the tree, your nails digging into the bark when Jason sucked on your neck, his tongue drawing circles with his one hand still squeezing your neck and the other holding your breast.

Jason pushed into you, raw and hard. He couldn’t wait any longer. You pushed your ass out, arching your back as much as you could when your head was being held back by his strong arm so he could kiss you, biting into your lip again when he thrusted again.

“Yes.” You squeezed your eyes shut when the feel of his lips, his hands and his massive cock stretching out your pussy so wide all sent your mind dancing on the light clouds. You loved this man so much, and it just so happened that his dick was the absolute best as making you come. Jason squeezed your neck harder, and he moaned your name into your ear. The way he whispers against it, his breath tickling your ear and his teeth biting into it sent your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You pushed your ass out even further and spread your legs. Jason’s hand was strong pulling and pushing your whole body, bruising your hips in the best way possible. He snapped his hips into your ass. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, just like that!” you kept crying, mewling and holding onto the bark when the burn inside your walls swelled up, and you felt that familiar coil in your stomach. Jason sensed it and fucked you even harder. You couldn’t stay here long. But the thrill of getting caught. Fuck. You could get off from it alone. Jason slapped your ass again, and that one spot that drove you mad, he purposefully stimulated with the tip of his cock.

You were twitching, and every drag of his cock sent pulsating tremors down the ends of your whole body. Jason covered your mouth just as you came undone, biting into his hand and the other gripping his own to hold yourself up as you shook, your knees trembling. He kept going, faster, then you felt the familiar warmth of his cum spewing inside you. He breathed heavily into your ear, leaning his head against yours, and you both came down your high with a softer kiss on the lips. Jason’s grip on you loosened, slowly turning you around so he could kiss you better. He held your waist, grinning between his sweet kisses.

You heard a large car speed by, narrowly missing Jason’s bike.

“That’s our queue,” he said. “The big guy’s out for the night. I’m not done with you yet, baby.”

His thumb soothed your lips, and you looked right into his eyes as you sucked on it like you would his cock. “Fuck,” he breathed, watching you and sinking his thumb deeper into your mouth. Already, he was getting hard again.

You both put your clothes back together. A bit of cum seeped out your pussy and stained your underwear. You didn’t care. You both went back onto the bike and drove towards the manor, which was merely another five minutes away.

Jason held your hand and walked you both to the front door, ringing the doorbell.

“Master Jason,” Alfred greeted him. “Miss Y/N.”

“Hi Alfred.” He stepped inside.

“You're spending the night, I believe?”

“Hope Bruce wouldn’t mind.”

“As always, sir.”

His hand on you was squeezing tight. Jason was too quick to pull you into the library, only turning on the lamp by a desk.

You marveled at his large corner of books. The Great Gatsby. Moby Dick. Little Women. Hamlet. Books of the like, arranged in perfect alphabetical order. The man was a nerd and you loved him even more for it. Jason circled his arms around your waist and settled his head on your shoulder.

“We can skip the reading,” he whispered, and his hand on your waist squeezed harder. You hummed, turning around to kiss him. You made out for a little while, your hand over his bulge once again to feel him grow harder and harder. His hand went under your pants to grab your ass, but you pushed his hand away and knelt down in front of him.

He forgot to pull up his fly from a while ago. You giggled, then pulled his pants down to his knees and slowly licked up his hardening length.

“Jason…” you moaned, and his hand gripped your hair to pull your head. Slowly, delicately, you pumped him with your hand, then slowly dragged your wet lips grazing over his sensitive tip. He almost jizzed just at that, then you kitten licked the bottom of the tip and tasted a bit of pre cum seep out. You could taste yourself still on his length. And you knew how you tasted from all the times he’s asked you to suck his fingers after he’s fucked you with them, or from your own fingers when he was far away, watching you from his phone.

You winked at him when you took half of him in, his hand pulling your head back and forth. You widened your mouth and let him fuck it at his pace. Then you pulled your pants off, spreading your legs as your fingers played with yourself. Jason pulled you hard, bottoming out. You could feel his length stretching your throat, chocking and gagging you with tears down your face, and your fingers harshly circling your clit. Your face glowed red, and he pulled entirely out just to push into your mouth again.

Jason didn’t come yet, but he took your chin and kissed you, hard. Then he set himself on the floor before you and pulled you on top of him as he laid down. Your legs were on his sides, and you grinding against his cock while his hand still gripped your hair.

“Sit on my face,” he growled. And you could feel your wetness stream down your thighs. You inched to his head, then turned to face the other way so you could watch his cock. You lowered yourself, then felt his hot breath against your cunt.

You felt him spit at your hole, and you moaned. Your clit was grazing against his bottom lip, then he circled it with his tongue. Jason held your hips and you took your shirt off to squeeze your own breasts. Fuck, his tongue just entered inside you. It was hot, burning, and it was soft. Fucking hell, this man. And his finger, stimulating the outside of your asshole, you could no longer hold back your moans.

His cock was leaking, so you bent over and took him in your mouth, the cock curving down to your neck. You sucked him off to suppress your own moans. And it worked, if not for the vibrating hums up your pussy and his dick. You sat there quietly, feeling the ecstasy from the outside of your cunt and choking into his cock. Without his strong hands, you couldn’t take the whole of him in. So you pumped the bottom of his length while you sucked on him hard.

Jason’s lips were encircling your clit, and his tongue violated it to the point where the shivers down your limbs almost made you fall off of him. “Oh!” you screamed, then moaned with him in your mouth. You took as much of him as you could, just how he liked it, then he came apart.

His cum spilled over your mouth, breast, and hair. You’ll have to wash this off tonight. But his moans, you could feel him shaking, furiously lapping at your cunt the more he came. You dove back in and swallowed around him, just as you felt his thumb dip into your pussy and you squirted all over his mouth. You stopped sucking him, gasping as you sat back and felt his hands go up to hold your waist. You held your head back, riding your high and moving your hips. Your whole body came apart. You were writhing, holding back most of your screams. And the mind-blowing orgasms had you weak and almost limbless.

Jason kissed your pussy, then you swung your leg over just to straddle him again, facing him this time as he sat up, then kissed him with the sweet, slow kisses you always had after fucking. His touch on you was gentle now, brushing your hair back and his hands holding your hips.

“Master Jason-”

You covered yourself and grabbed your shirt from the floor, pulling it on hurriedly while Jason zipped his pants up and stood. “Hey-y, Alfred-“

“Master Bruce will be home early tonight.” The old man faced away from the sight but continued talking. “Here’s a towel. Do clean up after yourself.”

Fucking hell. You buried your face into your hands. The moment you heard the door close you nudged his arm and stood. “I thought you fucking locked the door.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. He continued to laugh until you playfully pushed him. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead.

“Let’s take this to my room.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He woke up to your sleeping form, bare back turned the other way. Jason went up to you, kissing your shoulder. You were still asleep, and it was almost noon. The amount of sex you had last night sent you dead asleep and his thighs burning. Never mind how he works out like a beast every single day. Fucking you always got him sore.

Jason got up and pulled his pants off from the floor. He’ll bring you breakfast from downstairs, ready for you just as you’d wake up. He knew you loved that. Slowly making his way down the large staircase, he ruffled his hair and went to the kitchen.

Alfred was there wearing an apron. “Mornin’ Alfred.”

“Good morning, Master Jason.”

“That for me?”

“This is for Master Damian. Your and Miss Y/N’s meal is on the table there.”

“Thanks.” He got a tray and placed your food, balancing them out. Just as he was about to walk away with it, he turned back to the butler.

“And uh, sorry ‘bout last night.”

“Oh, not to worry, Master Jason. I’ve witness far worse from Master Dick. On multiple occasions.”

He stopped turned his ladle from the pot, then looked at Jason.

“You’ve grown up, dear boy.”

Jason smiled at him. “Thanks, Alfred.”

 xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ya’ll need Jesus

Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf

[andieperrie18]

moral of the story (batfamily x batmom reader)

Inspire by moral of the story by ashe

So I never really knew you, God I really tried to

Loving Bruce wasn't hard. I have a lot of love to give and I gave myself to him unconditionally and thought that I he'll learn to love me someday. There were times that he would open up to me about things and his children. I did everything I could to help him, from taking care and raising the children he adopted, loving them like they are mine, to supporting his nightly routine.

"Aren't you father's wife, why aren't you sleeping in the same bed with him?" asked little Damian as I tucked him to his bed.

It's surprising to everyone that I was the first to tame the blood child of Bruce but I didn't really know how I did it too. Same as all of Bruce's children. I guess I just loved them all equally as a mother would wth her own child.

He wasn't the first child to ask me that, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass and Duke did aswell but I didn't have the heart to tell them that I was hoping to be one day worthy to sleep beside him.

I was talking with my lawyer, saying where'd you find this guy

Said young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes

I can't even move a muscle. My eyes were just staring at the blank line marked with an X and beside it was another line but filled with the perfect signature of my husband.

"I'm really sorry Y/n," I heard my lawyer/childhood bestfriend mutter to my side. I took a glance at her, teeth gritted and a frown blossomed on her face.

"Fei, its really ok-","OKAY?! HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT Y/N?!! YOU LOVED HIM FIRST!! YOU SAYING THAT YOU ARE REALLY LETTING HIM GO TO A S--"

"Fei, please. Don't make this harder. I don't need you to tell 'I said so' or 'you should have listened to me'. I don't even know how to tell my kids abou this so please don't make it harder for me..." I could feel my voice breaking with both my hands holding my torso cause I can't even read the contents of the papers placed before my eyes.

She finally stopped walking in circles from my pheripheral vision for a moment then pulled the chair she was sitting on earlier close to me. Then next I felt her pull my head to her until I was nuzzling my unmake-up face to her white office shirt.

That night, I walked down to the batcave where Bruce was. Alfred was there as well and didn't fail to greet me with a warm smile. But he saw the manila folder I held and it made the smile on his face disappear in a blink. I made my way to the man I once called my husband. He wasn't alone.

In his Batman uniform, his lips was sealed in a loving kiss by the only woman he had ever loved from the start. The very woman I can never compete for his heart.

Selina immediately notice my presence and pulled away from Bruce. She loved him. She really did, I guess that's enough assurance that Bruce will be okay. His world will keep turning with or without me in it.

Bruce turned to where she was looking to meet my pained smile. He put himself before her, it made my heart ache a lot more. Whe I got to them, I didn't let him speak as I gently handed the envelope I had. Judging how his face turned from concerned to guilty, he already knows what's inside.

"I just wanna say something to her, I won't her,"

He didn't speak but moved aside and I was face to face with Selina. I could tell with the way she avoids my gaze, she is guilty with my state. With slightly shaking hands, I took her hands.

Some mistakes get made, it's alright it's okay

You can think that you're inlove, when you're really just in pain

third person

"I know that he loves you and no matter how much love I give him, It won't come to that amount on how much you love him," despite the stutter at the end of the sentence, Y/n kept he chin up.

Bruce was silent but he knew what he did was eating him inside. His guilt was prowling beast ready to swallow him up at that running second. He was the one fueling it as well as regret grew. He understood this act was the cause of his heartlessness but in his mind he knew that Y/n didn't believe that.

What was worse at that moment and had made his guilt grow a lot more was winessing how his now ex-wife acted. Instead of rampaging, she acted civil and collected.

"I won't bother the both of you, all I ask is that you take care of my children,"

With that, she left the couple alone. They were silent but something screamed louder in it.

"Ummi?" Y/n's head shot up as her eyes found Damian who was rubbing his eyes as he had just woke up from a nap. The woman put a smile and walked to the boy, taking her in her arms carrying him. Damian didn't mind this gesture from her as he had grown custom to his only motherly figure in the house. The only woman he will recognize as his mother at the bottom of his heart.

"Hey baby D, why you up? It's half past bed time," Damian leaned his head tiredly on Y/n's shoulder and mumbled, "I'm hungry Ummi,"

Unknown to the boy that his sudden presence was what his mother needed at the moment of rock bottom. With a stuttering voice, she agreed to do the boy's request. Y/n walked to the kitchen with a slow pace while holding Damian close as if someone would try to take him away from her.

That night, she baked a lot of chocolate chip cookies because Damian wasn't the only one who came. Dick came with Jason and Tim after a tight shift in Patrol. They all shared about how their days went before Cass and Duke followed in and entered the last bonding they'll have with their mother.

They say it's better to have loved and lost

To have never have loved at all

Damian fell asleep on the island and Y/n took the liberty to take him to his room. But before he could leave, the slight pull on the hem of her shirt stopped her. She spun her head slowly to meet all of her children's lowered heads and sad faces. They already know.

"Mom I--…We...--" her eldest began his bright blue eyes turning glossy as every second pass, trying to form the right words he wants to say. He always knew what to do when it comes tips and advices for people like a typical therapist as Jason joked but for the first time, even he can't think of anything to do to ease the second special woman next to his biological mother, "Richard, sweet heart…"

The boy didn't finish but rushed towards her and his sibling followed, crowding over her. Y/n welcomed the comfort of the children she come to treasure in her heart. They all head to the living room and continued to crowd Y/n. Damian innocently slept as you cradle him to your chest, Jason and Cass occupied your sides, Tim rested himself beside you legs, Dick held his mother's hand resting in top of Jason's thighs as he no longer minded it, Duke sat at the opposite side of Tim and Stephanie sat beside Cass. All of them stayed up staring into thin air hoping tomorrow wouldn't come.

that could be a load of shit

but I just gotta tell you all

your pov

"U-ummi please…please…."

The weight on my shoulder doubled as I weakly tried to removed Damian's arms wrapped around my waist, his hand clinging to the thick beige sweater I wore to sheild me from the cold wind. I can't even breath with all my sobbing and I can't even see straight with all the free falling down from my eyes and cheeks.

"Damian baby, Ummi has to go," I tried to say straight.

As much as I wanted to shove Damian away so that I won't get caught and cornered up byhis siblings because if I do, it'll make leaving a lot harder than it is.

some mistakes get made, it's alright, its okay

third person

Turns out Y/n did all the things in one day. After signing papers, she had her bestfriend book her a flight to a foreign country. She will need a lot of alone time to contemplate and digest her current situation. Before she head to the cave, she had already packed her things for her flight. Everyone except Damian saw the bags waiting near the entrance. They would have rushed to talked her out when they found her happily talking with their youngest sibling like nothing happened that whole day. They all silently and mentally agreed that their mother needed this, Y/n needed this. Alfred couldn't bear the sad faces in the living room. Bruce didn't bother to come out his room after Selina have left. He can't face her. You don't derserve to see the man who betrayed you.

Dick and Jason was the first to wake when Damian's loud voice boomed outside the house. And soon everyone woke and they all head to the open doors. What they saw woke them to reality. Their aunt Fei's car was parked at the Drive way and beside is was Y/n and Damian, the latter latched on the woman's waist.

No one had the guts to walk over you two and pull the sobbing child on her mother's waist.

"I don't want her, I want you!!" the boy cried. Damian had never cried that much before. He was using all his strength to stop Y/n from entering the vehicle.

Y/n stopped struggling as she finally bursted to fits of sobs and collapsed in front of Damian who pulled her into his tight embrace. Both crying their hearts out.

"Don't leave," he repeated over and over as he buried his face on her neck. "I love you Ummi,"

"Damian, Baby I'm really Sorry. I am so sorry, I love you baby so much," Damian slowly collapse in her arms and Y/n dropped the sleep sedative she hid in her pockets if Damian ever find out. Continous sobs left her as her Dick came to her and took Damian from her arms. She hugged her eldest tightly, Jason followed with few tears escaping his own eyes, then Tim and so on.

Alfred who had been hidden by the crowd of her children walked to her. Y/n didn't hesitate to hug the old man who cried silently.

Y/n hopped inside the car and watched her children sad and crying faces but mostly to unconscious boy held by her eldest child.

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 4

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Flowers~

Would some people use this prompt for romance? yes

Am I people? no

Ao3

First< Previous > Next

-------------------

“Isn’t it amazing Tiki?” Marinette exclaims throwing the curtains open.

“No,” Adrien groans rolling over preferring it to glaring at the light.

“Just look at that garden,” Marinette sighs resting on the window sill.

“Wow, plants,” Plagg snuggles up in the blankets more.

“I’m going down before breakfast,” Marinette darts away from the window throwing on clothes, “Adrien do you want to come?”

“Raring to go,” Adrien yawns still under the covers, “Meet you down there,”

Marinette giggles leaving the room, and Adriens snores behind her.

“Someone’s enjoying not being on a schedule,” Tiki flew beside her, both confident that cameras would catch the Kwami anyway, “And I never once saw you this ready to go to school,”

“It’s much easier not having to juggle everything at school plus Ladybug and that bed?” Marinette sighs at the very thought, “The hero of Paris has not slept that well in a long while let me tell you,”

“I’m glad Marinette you deserve a break,” Tikki hugs her cheek.

“We both do Tiki,” They could use a long holiday after this was all over if it ever was.

“Miss duping-Cheng,”

“Alfred!” Marinette jumps, hoping tiki got out of sight in time, “Sorry! Didn’t see you there I was just I’m talking to um...”

“I’m well aware miss Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette's blood runs cold, “However you might have a tad more luck talking with the flower out there instead of the dead ones in that vase there,”

“Flowers in the… oh! Yes ah, very good point thank you, Alfred,”

“And if you wouldn’t mind visiting the rose bush at the back of the west wing they could use your magic touch,”

“Of course- I’m mean magic! What magic I don’t know what you're talking about!” She should probably just leave, “West wing you say? where’s that?”

“To the west miss,”

“Ah! Yes well, that would make sense,” Marinette cringes already halfway down the hall, “Thank you, Alfred!”

Marinette races down the hallway before more questions could come. She reaches the garden in record time only slowing down when the flowers came into view.

“Oh Tiki they're gorgeous,” Marinette let her fingers brush gently over the rose petals, “I’m not sure what Alfred is talking about,”

Marinette sits on the neatly trimmed grass taking out her sketchbook. Tiki darts from flower to flower leaving a trail of brightly blooming flowers in her wake.

Marinette is finishing off the details of a flower petal based skirt when a solid force barrels her over.

“What the- oh hi!” Marinette giggles as a wet snout pushes in her face, “Who are you, you handsome boy?”

Marinette scratches at the Great Danes ears giving herself enough space to sit back up. She laughs again showering the canine with affection. She catches a figure standing off to the side of the rose bush. Must be one of Bruce Wayne’s sons. she knows enough from second-hand gossip and the odd news article to take a guess that this one's Damian the youngest considering he should be about her age. He’s looking at them softly, must be his dog. Strange that from most of what she had heard he was cold, well except for Lila's retellings but those could hardly be believed. But still, he was cute-- Marinette swiftly shakes her head to get rid of that train of thought.

“Hi!” Marinette waves, one hand still occupied patting, something in Damian's expression snaps turning cold and harsh, “You're Damian right?”

“As if you didn’t know,” He spits walking over, Marinette raises a brow.

“I took a guess,” She shrugs, turning her attention back to the dog when he starts licking her face, “But I don’t know who this is, what’s his name?”

“Tt Titus,”

“Hello, Titus aren’t you just beautiful?” Marinette scratches his head as he lets out a bark.

“Titus here,” At Damian's command Titus leaves Marinette to sit by his side, “You interrupted out morning walk,”

Actually, you interrupted me. Marinette keeps the thought to herself trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. An act maybe? for public appearances. Marinette knew Adrien took on a persona for his fans.

“Sorry, lovely place to have a walk tho,” Marinette stands gazing wistfully at the flowers, “Aren’t they gorgeous?”

“Leave,”

“Excuse me?” Marinette reels back scowling at him now. He meets her scowl with one that would have been threatening if she hadn't donned a spotted mask years ago. Seeing her not back down he moves forward, Marinette holds her position.

“You’re only going to ruin everything so leave,” His gaze in her is steely, filled with resentment. Marinette meets it silently not wanting to insult her host's son, someone out of the two of them had to be polite. Damian huffs again brushing past her with Titus at his heels.

Marinette huffs as well heading in the opposite direction Tiki hiding away in her bag. She’s ready to head back to the room to vent to Adrien or Plagg whoever’s more awake. She startles as Dick appears next to her.

“Hi, Marinette,” Marinette doesn't have enough time to wipe the look off her face, “What’s wrong?”

“Just met Damian,”

“That explains it,” Tim says, crossing the hall and disappearing into another room in time to avoid Dick's glare.

“He told me to leave! And that I would only ruin everything,” Marinette lets it out, confident that her frustration wouldn’t even register to Hawkmoth in a city like Gotham, “And I’m pretty sure he wasn’t talking about the rose garden,”

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that,” Dick says cheerfully guiding her towards her room, “Damian's just not great at expressing emotions I’m sure he didn’t mean to offend,”

I’m pretty sure he did

But she didn’t have time to argue, Dick was already pushing her gently down the hall to her room.

“Don’t worry about it ok?”

“Ok,”

Marinette then proceeded to go to her room and worry about it.

—-

Dick waves Marinette off with a smile it drops when she disappears down the hall. He ducks into the room Tim just went. Tim coming out of the secret passage just as he did.

“Wouldn’t go down there Damian's throwing a temper tantrum,” Tim warns holding a laptop and a cup of coffee that might be fused to him at this point.

“I’m sure he’s not,” Dick pats his shoulder, moving past before the passage closes.

“Whatever I’m going to order more training dummies,”

They part ways Dick hurrying down to the bat cave. Sure enough, Damian was there cutting down training dummies one after the other.

“Hey,” Dick calls leaning against a shelf on the edge of the training mat, “What’s up?”

Damian huffs turning to slice up another target.

“Why are you mad at Marinette?” Dick presses, “She seems sweet,”

“Don't trust an assassin,”

Ah so that’s what it is

" She seems innocent,” Then again so did her mother and that woman had proven to be terrifying.

“She was trained to,” Damian stops taking the water Dick offers him, “Don’t trust her for a second, she’ll turn in you,”

—-

“You take that back!!” Marinette beats Adrien over the head with a pillow, “I’ll take your miraculous and hand it over to Hawkmoth myself if you ever say that again!”

“Are you telling me you didn’t find it punny?” Adrien cracks up, getting a face full of pillow.

“Adrien!”

“Alright alright,” he surrenders, and Marinette backs off, “So what did he do next?”

“He told me to leave! Right to my face!” Marinette recites, falling back on the bed, “That’s just so rude- no not rude, mean ,”

“Mmhmm,”

“ What ,”

“No offense Mari we’re but you do this a lot,” Adrien rolls over resting on his stomach.

“Do what?” Marinette crosses her arms, cautious of where this was going.

“Dislike people the first time meeting them,”

“Name on-“

“Kagami,” Well yes not like I'm about to share my reason.

“Mhmm, how did breaking up with her over text before fleeing the country go by the way?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Adrien face plants into the mattress screaming for a few seconds before popping back up, right as rain, “Lila,”

“I was right about that one,”

“An exception, not the rule,” Adrien waves her off, “Me,”

“You put gum on my seat,” Marinette smirks.

“I did not!” Adrien sits up shouting.

“Sure,” Marinette shugs trying to bait him into changing the topic.

“Anyway, maybe just don’t judge him on this first impression,” Adrien relaxes not falling for the bait, “Maybe it’ll be like when you met me,”

“You're right!” Marinette points, startling him, “Now I just have to wait for it to rain!”

“Wait what? I don't think you got what I meant!” Adrien calls after her as Marinette runs out of the room.

----

No taglist :P