#Tim: *sipping from his mug having the time of his life*

[toulousewayne]

Wake Up : A Bat Family One-Shot

———

Beep….Beep….Beep.

That’s the only sound in the room. That and the sounds of the tubes contracting. The room is full of your brothers and father. Alfred had stepped out to speak with the doctors.

Bruce sat in a chair to your right with Damian on the opposite side of your hospital bed. Tim sat like a cat perched in the window seal. Gotham City in her rainy and gloomy glory was just beyond the glass. Though it seem a lot more dim then normal. Jason had snapped and left an hour ago. Dick was in the corner pf the dim room not meeting anyone’s gaze.

“I’m sorry.” Bruce managed to choke the words out. They were the first words he said to you since you fight hours ago.

You were Bruce’s Daughter, and you too didn’t always see eye to eye. But he loved you in his own way only Bruce could understand. He gently pushed a stray piece of hair away from your face.

Beep…Beep…Beep.

That was the only reply he gotten. He replayed early tonight over and over like it had his parents deaths for many years.

——

“Are you fucking serious!” You hissed at him. You glared daggers at your father.

“Y/n”

“No, you told me the reason you and canceled on me was because of some life saving event,” That was true, Bruce had canceled on her for the millionth time this week alone.

“I didn’t lie to you,” he spoke monotonously. “Clark asked me to accompany Jon and Damian on a mission.” He took a sip from his wine.

“Oh, I forgot your Boy’s clubhouse.” She spat.

—-

Bruce gently brushed your black and red knuckles. He let out a deep wounded sigh. Dick glanced over and narrowed his gaze. “This is all your fault.”

Bruce didn’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t make time for her I know that, I don’t your in put here Dick.” He said his name so cold it was almost as if that was he was calling him rather than calling his name.

Tim scoffed,”You both are to blame.” Dick shot his gaze to the college student nearly giving himself second degree whiplash.

“And what do you mean by that,Timmy?” The older man gaze never leaving the younger one.

“We all know Bruce blows everyone off unless it’s about the mission. You just do it because you don’t care about anyone but your Team or your girlfriend.”

Dick stares down at his brother and crosses the room some he’s with earshot of him.

“Tim that’s bullshit and you know it,” he tries to keep his anger in but it’s simmering and he could pop at any giving moment, “I do my best to be there,and yes I can be everywhere at once but I do try. At least I try to be.”

The room felt silent again with everyone’s on the comatose girl. The fight between them feeling as though it dismissed itself within seconds. Dick shoves his hands in his pockets and turns on his heels.

“I’m gonna go to the cafeteria, I’ll be back.” No one stops him. The door shuts softly and the only sound is the machines and the rain on the window.

A knock on the door brings everyone back to earth. It’s Alfred. “The Commissioner is here, he needs a moment with you Master Bruce.”

Bruce excuses himself and leaves the room.

——

Jason takes a long puff and the smokes leaves his lips. He looks toward the city through a rainy night. The red light the hospital cases a highlight on his face.

He blew up on Bruce twice tonight, not that he didn’t feel that it wasn’t necessary he did. But it didn’t change the pit in his stomach, nor the smells of gasoline, burning rubber, and metal.

He remembers everything.

——

“You avoiding me too?” He turns to the doorway of the library. You walk into the light of the fireplace.

“No but I don’t have any interest in spending the night in my old room.” He fired back turning the page of his book and placing a bookmark in it before standing up.

She shakes her head at her big brother. “Forgot, if I’m not apart of the missions you guys forget about us on the surface.”

He clicks his tongue and huffs,”Not like that.”

She shakes her head and grabes his plate and mug. “Sure it’s not, we used to hang out but now that I do go out anymore it’s like I’m a ghost to him. You too.”

Jason doesn’t meet her gaze right away. “I’m not talking to Daddy Bats right now. I only came because Golden Boy wouldn’t stop blowing up my phone. I just got back from Columbia this afternoon. I’m just tired is all. I’m free in a day or two.” He rubbed his face and turned back to her.

“Forget it Jason, rain check.” She mumbled and walked out the room.

——

Jason puts out the smoke and stomps on it before pushing his shoulders away from the hospital and heads back inside.

——-

Dick sat at table in the corner in the cafeteria. He took a sip of his coffee which tasted like old dirt water. Then again it was 1 am.

He throws his head back rubbing his temples trying to massage away his stress to no avail.

He gets to his feet and leaves and heads down the hallway. The rush of the hospital in full swing. Doctors getting paged, the sounds of nurses making rounds, phone lines ringing,etc.

He took a sit in the main lobby. He closed his eyes for a moment thinking about the last time he spoke to his sister. It was growing on three weeks.

——

“So??”

Dick woke up from dosing off. He rubbed his eyes and sighed.”Sorry it’s been a long 24 hours.” He sighed and scratched Haley’s head.

“I can tell, you’re not sounding like yourself.” He picked up the phone and walked into the kitchen opening the fridge. It’s only contents being a Chinese takeout container, a pizza box that he got earlier, two cans of diet soda, half a case of beer and three water bottles.

He takes a water and downs it. “Tell me about it and with this mission around the corner I need to get some rest but I doubt it.”

“What mission?”

Dick stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t told anyone but Barbara and Bruce that he was leaving for San Francisco in the morning to meet with the Titans.

“I heading back to the Titans, we have to head to investigate a lead.” He almost whispered the last part.

The line was silent for a moment. “And how long will you be gone Dick?” He couldn’t make out her tone but he could tell she wanted a different answer that what he was going to tell her.

“A month maybe less maybe more I don’t know until I get back.”

“So you’re not coming to graduation then.” She said a little more with intensity.

He sighs,”Look I’m sorry I know I haven’t been around—

“That’s an understatement.” She cuts him off.

He rubs his face,”I’m come to the next event I promise.”

She scoffed,”And what’s that Dickie Bird? You missed Ballet recitals, High School graduation and now college. You missed everything? You and Bruce are not that far apart.”

“That’s not fair, it’s important what I’m doing.”

“You don’t miss Damian art exhibition? It’s or Donna’s new studio opening. You were there for Bruce for a charity dinner two months ago yet you couldn’t bother to call me or even come ten feet to me at the same dinner to tell me you weren’t even staying till the next morning to go out like you had planned for months! You don’t miss anything for anyone else because they’ll be disappointed,but it’s fine to flake on your sister and I’m so supposed to be okay with that!”

“I’m so sorry it’s really not like that, look I’ll make it up—“

“Don’t bother Grayson, for once in all these years I thought for once you were gonna show up for me. I was wrong.” He could hear the hurt in her voice. Before he could say anything else she hung up.

That was Three Weeks ago and they hadn’t spoken.

——-

Tim hadn’t moved from his spot in the window. He turned back towards the room. Damian was sleep in his chair. He turned his attention to his older sister.

He thinks about the last few hours tonight. How things got so ugly so fast.

—

“Y/n, you’re being ridiculous. It’s a mission in East Asia not strike.” Bruce replied.

She glared at her father. The room was silent. “Do you take me for one of blind followers.”

“Excuse me?”

She leaned down so she was eye level. “I’m not one of your soldiers, and that’s part of the problem isn’t it Father?”

He returns her gaze. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, I may not always be there for you but I’m trying.”

She laughes at him, “When was the last time you were there for me that wasn’t lurking in the shadows, or stopping one of the criminals you created from nearly killing me and thousands of other people.” He gaze never leaving her and his jaw when slack too.

“You sit there and smile for the news and the rest of the world like we’re one Big Happy Family but we have never been.”

Tim pushes his food with his fork. And sighs. She turns to him, “Anything you want to say Tim, we may as well get everything off our chest.”

He huffs,”No but this isn’t going to change anything. “

She grins,”I agree with Tim.” Jason and Dick stare a look and Damian as long stopped eating and is watching the spectacle.

“You do?” Bruce raises a brow at her. She nods again. “Tim’s right, you’re never going to change until you take your last dying breath. Because God Forbid your kids dying own your watch doesn’t register to you that you need to be present more.”

The air in the room was still.

Bruce doesn’t look at her. Jason doesn’t look away but his plate. Damian squirms in his seat and Dick clears his throat.

“I tried to be there.” Bruce finally speaks.

“But you weren’t, and no one is blaming you for that.” Alfred cuts in hopefully to stop the mess from going any farther.

She huffs,”No but I least that would change your perspective of only throwing yourself into harms way every damn night. All of you, it’s like you all don’t even stop to think about yourselves.”

“Sister we are all trained, even yourself.”

“That’s not the point. I’m not saying you’re not capable,” she tone softens,” I’m saying that most of the time you remember that and that’s all that matters. You don’t think what happens if you miss step, you underestimate the villains next move, or what the consequences are for you charging into a mission without a second thought.”

Bruce leans forward,”I know what the stakes are. You don’t think I don’t know what happens if I don’t stop and think about that. You don’t know anything about what I do at night, the were a child and didn’t want this life for yourself.” He stood up and looked at her in the eyes.

“I never wanted you to be apart of that life, I know you couldn’t handle it.”

The boys turn to look at their sister and Bruce.

“So you thought that little of me?” Tears formed in her eyes but anger was the clearest emotion across her face.

“I thought you didn’t need to do what we do, you’re better at what you do now.” Though Bruce thought he was being sincere his tone was more condescending and cold.

“Bruce!” Dick shouts.

“Screw you, you just wanted be to be apart of your image.”

It dawned on him how he hadn’t been able to properly communicate to her.

“Y/n that—

She took off from the table, she grabbed her purse and keys.

“Don’t worry Father, I wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation.” She slammed the door and charged to her car. Not once slowing down even with Tim calling her phone multiple times and Damian yelling from the doorway.

She sped off through the gates and onto the road.

——

Y/n takes a sharp turn onto the main road and wipes her face with her sleeve. She sob to herself feeling so many things at once.

The sky opened and rain harmed down onto the road. “Great.” She turned on her wipers and lights and continued driving back towards the city to go to her apartment.

She ignored her phone that wouldn’t stop buzzing from calls from her brothers.

She felt like not just Bruce but they also thought so little of her. Maybe that’s why they didn’t want to spend time with her.

She graduated from Gotham University last night with a Bachelor Degree and yet it felt like she was alone. Alfred and the girls came. Bruce had missed the entire ceremony along with Damian. Tim was just landing from attending a business meeting in New York,Jason and Dick already had prior encounters.

She felt like she didn’t really feel like she belong with them. She snapped out of her daze and grabbed her phone inside of purse. She answered.

“Tim please you guys have got to stop—

A loud hoar range out and within seconds she looked to see a large truck. She attempted to move out of his way but it all happened to fast. She took a sharp right turn but the truck smashed head on the passenger side door causing everything to feel like a free fall. Her phone, contents of her purse falling all around her. She herself was jerked all over.

The car was immediately crushed by impacted and began to roll and tumble down the hill until it crashed into several trees.

Tim heard the crash and ran downstairs to where is his brother and Father were sitting in the study. By the tears on his face Bruce stood up and was in front of him.

“What’s wrong?”

“She was hit…the truck…I-i can’t hear her.”

—-

Bruce was racing down the road. Tim was still on the phone but all he could hear was beeping from the car and something tapping.

He stopped with red and blue light came into his view.

The two got out the car but two officers tried to block their paths.

“That’s my daughter let me through.” He order but the officers tried to keep him through but he managed to push the two men and run towards the site. Detective Montoya was at the scene.

“Please, how is she?” Bruce asked. Her expression was anything but hopeful.

“I don’t know Mr. Wayne I just got here, the Fire Department got her first and are working to get her free. As if on time two paramedics rushed down the side with an Orange board with straps. Moments later the returned with three firefighters carrying Y/n. Cuts, bruised and marks littered her body. Her eyes were black and blue and a tube was down her throat with a brack around her neck.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Bruce asked uneasily.

“We’re taking her to Gotham General, she stable but we have to go.” The younger paramedic told him. He turned to Tim who hopped in the ambulance with his sister and Bruce backed away slowly as the ambulance rushed down the street with sirens and light flashing.

He made it inside his car followed them.

—-

The first few hours were a blurry, she was rushed into surgery. Tim sat in the emergency room waiting area until Alfred arrived with the rest of the boys and they were taken upstairs to her room where Bruce was already waiting.

45 minutes later a nurse came in to tell them she was out of surgery. Shortly, afterwards the surgery told them the damages she suffered and she would be in a medical coma for a few days to help with the pain and swelling

And that brings us to the present.

Bruce re-entered the room and took his seat back.

“She’s gonna be okay,right B?”

He nodded. “We hope so. She’s a fighter like us.” He took her cold hand and offered a gentle squeeze. Dick,Jason and Alfred returned as well.

Alfred placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder,”She is, and now we have to wait for her to fight her way back to us.”

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

Bruce, not ready to wake up: Just five more…

Tim, bored, irritated, and sensing an opportunity to sow the seeds of chaos:

Tim: *races into the kitchen*

Tim: You guys will never believe what Bruce just said!

Damian: Well?

Duke: What did he say?

Steph: You can’t leave us hanging like that.

Tim: He said five MORE.

*collective gasp*

Steph: I had better not be one of those five.

Damian: Why does Father get to adopt five more children and I can not adopt five more cats? Cats are much easier to care for than people.

Tim, shrugging: I’m sure he’d be fine with it.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 3

WC: 1861 Masterpost CW: mentions of blood, past experimentation, and torture

Duke tugged the sleeves of the hoodie he had thrown on as he rolled out of bed down over his hands. The Cave was freezing. Usually the temperature was nice. Dressing up in layers of body armor and fighting crime made a person hot and the cool air of the Cave was a relief. When pulled out of bed by an all-hands meeting it was another story and so Duke tucked himself further in the hoodie.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t even his hoodie. This family (and those let into the inner circle) were almost all clothing thieves. Duke had even caught Wally West with his missing Gotham Academy hoodie once. The weird lack of boundaries had taken some getting used to. Seeing various family members naked for decontamination showers or medical procedures helped hurry that along. It was hard to care about who’s hoddie it was was after washing off cuddle pollen together.

The roar of a bike filled the Cave and Duke didn’t even look up. He knew the sound of Red Hood’s bike.

Man, he really had been in this family too long now, he thought and buried his face in his arms. Would they notice if he just went back to sleep?

“Perhaps some tea, Master Duke?”

Guess so.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Duke said and dragged himself properly upright to accept the mug of tea. At least it was warm.

Duke sipped at the tea, his favorite blend of course, as Jason sped into the Cave like the badass bastard he was. He spun his bike to a stop in one of the open spots.

“Hood,” Bruce addressed the other, the Batman™ gravel seeped into his voice even though he was dressed down in sweats, a hoodie Duke was pretty sure was actually Jason’s, and a brace on his wrist.

They all knew what Bruce meant though: report why an all-hands was called, why Tim wasn’t there, did those of them not suited up need to, was anyone they cared about hurt?

“No, old man, you report,” Jason said as he stalked up the steps towards them. “Who the fuck were you fucking fifteen years ago?”

Duke pinched himself to make sure he was actually awake and not still in bed having the most awkward dream. Alright, well, that hurt. So much for being saved from this conversation by the T-rex suddenly coming to life and breathing fire and them having to take it down with squirt guns and pool noodles.

He’d had some weird dreams since coming to live in the manor, alright?

“Um, ask what now, little wing?” Dick asked, looking between Jason and Bruce.

“I asked what I asked,” Jason said. He’d made it to the computer and they all turned obediently to look at the screen. Jason tugged off his helmet and set it down as he leaned against the console. “Who the fuck were you sleeping with at that time, Bruce?”

Bruce stared at Jason for a long moment. “Selina, mostly. Some socialites and such maybe still. What’s going on, Jason?”

“Oracle,” Jason said, not taking his eyes Bruce. “Red should have sent you some media. You’ll get why. Throw something fitting up on the screen.”

Despite what the superhero community and Gotham thought, everyone in the Cave knew that Batman was far from unflappable. They had all pulled one over on him before. But Duke had never seen Bruce looking like that before. As that image went up on the screen, it looked like someone had just shattered his brittle heart into pieces.

Duke couldn’t blame him. The sickly looking guy on the screen made Duke want to go find someone to punch and it wasn’t his face the other was wearing.

“Holy shit,” Steph whispered.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” Damian ordered.

“Jay?” Dick prompted when Bruce seemed unable to find the words.

Jason scowled down at the ground. “Red and I were on patrol. He noticed… blood.”

Babs brought another image up on the left monitor without prompting. It was a Gotham alley like any other except it was splattered with a green spray.

“That is Lazarus water, that is not blood,” Damian said. His words were as haughty as ever, but there was a wobble under them.

“It’s blood for him,” Jason said. “Trust me. I held the kid as Red stitched him up. Knife wound. It was the only… new wound. Oracle, did Red send you…”

A new image popped up on the left screen and Jason closed his eyes. Duke had to swallow heavily and look away himself. He got now why Jason came in demanding who Bruce had slept with. Bruce’s heart was going to break all over again.

“Who?” Cass signed. Her motion was sharp and aggressive as she pulled her thumb from her chin after the sign.

“We don’t know,” Jason said. “He was jumpy.”

The picture of the horrible injuries was replaced by a video, clearly from Red’s suit. The guy was pressed against the wall, one hand gripped tight over the wet, green stain on his hoodie. He looked dwarfed in it.

“Hey, looks like you could use some help with that wound before you bleed out,” Tim said in the video. Duke could hear how he was keeping his tone carefully light.

“…just who are you supposed to be?” The guy’s voice could barely be heard.

“You must not be from Gotham. I’m Red Robin, one of the heroes here.”

The guy snorted, curling further into himself rather than relaxing at that. “So you’re just going to hand me over to the government then?”

Everyone in the cave stiffened at that, including Jason, which was interesting.

“Why would I do that? I’m a vigilante. Do you know how illegal what I do is? I just don’t want to see you bleed out. Maybe I can even take you to a safe house where you can rest.”

“So that you can interrogate me? No thanks.”

“I mean, I’d like to know who tried to kill a kid, but that’s to make them pay, not you.”

As the guy gave a horrible laugh, Duke reached out and touched Cass’ elbow, reminding her they were all there. These sort of things always hit her hard. She sent him a grateful smile before focusing back on the screen. “Maybe I deserve it.”

The guy tensed suddenly, weight shifting like he was about to bolt as the video slumped slightly sideways.

Jason’s voice rumbled from close to the camera. “You’re what, sixteen?”

“…fifteen?”

“Uncertain,” Cass spoke. Duke had to agree, the guy didn’t know how old he was, not for sure.

“Yeah, no fifteen year old deserves to bleed out. You know who I am?”

Duke tracked the motion of the hood as it slipped. The white hair was curious, considering Bruce, but if the guy was a meta or had been in the Lazarus Pits long enough… or worse, both…

“I’m Red Hood. I protect part of this city called Crime Alley. I’m not afraid to kill a shithead, especially ones that hurt kids, but I never harm a kid,” the Jason of the video said, something they all knew was true. It was an argument still often enough on bad days. “I’ve got places to put you if you needed somewhere safe; places not in the system. Or we can get you somewhere. Do you have a place to go to?”

The guy laughed again. “That’s the thing. I do. I might, I guess. Just no one is going to believe me.”

It was Tim who asked, “Why won’t they believe you? Where do you need to get?”

After the photo earlier, they all knew what the guy would look like when he lifted his head, but it still made Duke glance over at Bruce.

“I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

-

Jason motioned and the video stopped there and went away.

Bruce closed his eyes.

I need to get to Bruce Wayne.

Another son he didn’t know about. Another son he failed to save from a horrible childhood because he didn’t know they existed.

“He didn’t want to see you right away, but we think that Tim and I convinced him that we could arrange a meeting between you and him,” Jason said.

“Of course,” Bruce answered instantly.

Jason just gave a little nod and explained, “He doesn’t trust the offer, or us, completely. It was enough to get him to the safe house. Passed out on the way.”

“And still asleep,” Tim piped up from the computer. “I’ve been running analysis on the… collar he’s wearing. It’s definitely a one off, but very professionally made. There’s, well, there was a tracker in it that’s been crushed. It’s meant to deliver a shock if someone messes with it, but I can disable that long enough to remove it.”

“You should wait until one of is is there,” Duke spoke up. “Just… in case there’s a reaction when it’s removed.”

Duke ducked his head when all eyes turned to him, still bashful as the newest member of the family. Bruce had been trying to reassure the other, but he knew that was far from his own strength. Clearly he needed to try a different approach.

“Just, you know, he’s clearly a meta? Of some type? It’s probably a containment collar and it could release a, you know, backlog? Of power?”

“Good thinking,” Bruce assured Duke.

“Someone better get here quick then. I hate seeing this thing on him,” Tim grumbled. At least he agreed.

Bruce looked back at the photo still on the center screen to the pale, drawn face. Even in sleep his son’s face was etched with pain.

“Bruce?” Dick prompted.

Bruce took a breath and made himself focus, to be Batman, not a grieving father. How often had he had to make that choice? “Dick, you and Jason both should go. Tim, as soon as the collar is off I want you and Oracle working on it but stay mindful of traps.”

“Will do,” Tim replied.

“And what of the rest of us?” Damian asked.

His youngest had come so far, but Bruce knew this would be a big disruption for him. They would have to watch him. He caught Cass’ eyes and she gave the slightest nod.

“I want Robin, Batgirl, and Spoiler out on the streets. Don’t ask questions yet, we don’t want to lead anyone to him, but get a sense of the mood around the big players. If this is already on anyone’s radar, I want to know.”

“And you need to make a list,” Jason said. “Kid talked in his sleep, begged his mom to stop. Could just be nightmares…”

“I’ll make one,” Bruce said. His bedroom proclivities were hardly what the papers reported, but with how this new son wasn’t certain of his age, it could be pre-Dick, or even at the start of Dick joining the family. It certainly meant there would be more names then any of the years later on. Whoever it was though, Bruce would find them.

He had to try and do that much for his son.

--- AN: Not entirely sure about Bruce's part here, but he's always harder for me to write! I think goal is to get at least one POV with all of the kids, so I guess Dick's is next likely! I'm super fuzzy today (fatigue, day fuck it, seven? Eight? Of this headache), so I hope this is at least decent~

Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost to be notified!

[cavity-exe]

Kiss me Animal

This has been in my drafts way too long with me very slowly updating it. I haven't written in a long time and this is honestly super self indulgent. I just need more plus size readers with Brian in my life

Warnings- Reader is described to have tits and cunt and is called pretty girl. P in V, praise kink, Brian definitely being ooc and a simp for soft chubby girls, fight me. I think that's it, I tried to make it friendly for all the plus sized girlies to read so if I missed any warnings or unfriendlies just lemme know :3

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

It'd been a long day

A really long fucking day, anything that could have went wrong absolutely did. Brian sighed as he kicked off his boots, the soles making a heavy thunk as they hit the wooden floor. He flopped back onto their old couch, arms resting on top of it as his head leaned back. A hand wiped down over his face as he let out a groan recalling all the events that had occurred today.

It was supposed to be a simple mission really, take out two people and wipe up any evidence the two had gathered. This sort of thing shouldn't have even required all three of them, and yet it was the messiest job they'd done in a long while. Tim triggered the back door alarm which could have worked in their favor if they had known where in the house the victims were, they didn't. A chair got taken to the back of Tim's head collectively knocking him out for a bit. Of all things Toby had to be threatened with was a blow torch, the fire of course freaking him out and causing him to stumble into Brian.

Another groan left the man as he shook his head, cringing at just how clumsy all three of them had been. Of course they did what needed to be done, but the drive back was tense as fuck with the other two being royally pissed off about how everything had gone down.

Brian was over the whole thing, wanting to just let it roll off his back and move on with his day. The blonde lazily sat up, throwing his hoodie off and onto a chair as he walked into the cabins little kitchenette. It was almost a surprise to see someone else there, forgetting for a quick moment that it wasn't just him and the other two men in the cabin anymore. He eyed you as you didn't seem to notice his presence, which wouldn't be the first time for Brian anyways. You'd been here for a few months, the operator unfortunately having taken a liking to you and directing you to their cabin of all areas.

Brian's eyes washed over your plump form, it looked like you had just rolled out of bed, hair unkempt and a loose t-shirt falling off your shoulder. His eyes went lower, a tight lil pair of black shorts were hugging your ass and chubby thighs. He hated those tiny little shorts, though you obviously seemed to love them since you wore them so God damn often. Maybe if you hadn't Brian would have talked to you more, no excuses for his mind or eyes to start wandering, though even he knew that was a lie. The man still couldn't hold conversation with you even when out doing work, and you wore cargo pants for fucks sake.

Brian looked off to the side, not wanting to be a creep as he cleared his throat to get your attention. It seemed like that was always his goal though, not wanting to appear as some sort of creep to you. It annoyed him to no end, he was the smooth talker out of their group, if they had to talk to a victim he was the first to go without a problem.

"Hey, how'd it go?". You didn't turn to face him as he walked up to the counter, pouring himself a mug of coffee. Glancing at your face, you almost looked annoyed with the slight pout and furrowed eyebrows.

"It uh, definitely could've gone better, the other two went out to go cool off from it actually". You looked over to him amused, sipping at your own mug with a nod, eyes slipping down him for a brief second before quickly looking away.

"You alright? Look like you been sleeping all day, and doesn't look like it was a good sleep". He let out a soft chuckle, at the grimace that came over your face with a shake of your head.

"Yeah I'm alright, though sleeping would've been much more accomplishing honestly". You sighed out while setting your mug in the sink. Brian raised an eyebrow at that, more accomplishing?

Watching you walk out of the kitchen, his eyes trailed down once again, before letting out a cough to himself and looking away.

This was usually how it went since you started staying with the three of them. Sure the two of you had held a few conversations late at night on the couch, but you just seemed to hold much longer talks with Tim and Toby, Tim of all people? Brian felt like he was honestly losing his touch. With a sigh he rolled onto his back, thick comforter shifting underneath him as he stared at the ceiling. His body shifted as his mind easily wandered to past images of your body, his hand going over his face at how easily worked up he seemed to be lately. Maybe he just needed a good fuck?

Though, when even was the last time he got laid? Too long apparantly as he groaned trying to remember before slipping a hand down his sweats. He let out a huff as he wrapped a fist around his half hard cock, immediately an image of those tiny black shorts coming to mind.

He swallowed thickly as he slowly pumped up and down, wetting his bottom lip as he imagined your soft thighs spilling out of fabric. How they dug into your flesh when you sat on the couch across from him. He loved how when you sat down the soft skin of your tummy bunched up over your hip and spilled out of whatever bottoms you had on. He let out a low groan, imagining how soft you'd feel against him, thumb running over the head of his cock, smearing the drip of precum over his member.

His head tilts back against the pillow, a soft wet slap being heard around the room. He let's out a grunt, imagining the jiggle of your ass as you ran in front of him, fuck if only co-

Knock, knock knock

Eyes snapped open at the light rap on his door, an annoyed low grunt leaving him as he tucked himself back into his sweats. Trudging to the door and opening it, about to give whoever it was a fuck off.

"H-hey, um sorry I know it's late."

The annoyed look on Brian's face quickly fell, suddenly aware of how his sweats hugged around his crotch he leaned himself away from the door frame as best as he could.

"Oh no don't worry about it, I wasn't asleep anyways. Did you need something?" He smiled down at you as calmly as he could trying to appear as relaxed as he could. He scanned your body as quickly as he could, fuck you had another pair of those damn shorts? Another color but it didn't matter, you were at his door in those tight lil things with a snug tank top on. He gulped slightly as he watched your chest rise and fall, watching how your flesh threatened to spill out over the fabric. How it hugged your soft sides and hips and waist and holy fuck he could see your hard nipples clearly through it.

"You have a bad staring problem, yknow that Brian?."

Hazel eyes snapped back up to your face that held a small smile. Brian felt his face heat up as he coughed into his fist.

"Fuck sorry, could you repeat yourself? Maybe I'm more tired than I thought". Playing it off with a chuckle as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

You looked up at him with an eyebrow raised, stepping closer to him and into the door frame.

"I'm not that oblivious, you know that right?" Your hand came up to rest on his chest with a playful smile. Brian had to stare at you for a few seconds, feeling the warmth of your hand on his bare skin had his head reeling.

The next few moments were a blur of you getting tugged into the bedroom, big hands gripping at the soft flesh on your hips. Your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him into a kiss had Brian almost melting, pushing you against his door as he felt you up. Surprised as soft lips moved against his own excitedly.

It felt like Brian couldn't touch enough of you, wanting more of your soft flesh to squish between his fingers. A low groan left him as you tugged at his bottom lip, his hand pulling your thigh up to wrap around his hips. A shudder went through him as you ground yourself against his lap.

Lips trailed down your soft jaw and neck, his hands going lower to squeeze at your ass while he sucked just above your collar. The soft whimpers leaving your parted lips every time he sucked on your skin had him grinding himself back against you.

"Fuck pretty girl, don't know how long I've wanted to feel you like this." He pulled away from your marked neck. A hand was brought up to your face and he let out an amused hum at the warmth coming from your cheeks. You let out a little pant before smiling at him.

"I should've shown up at your door late at night a lot sooner then huh? I guess I just didn't ever wanna interrupt your lil one on one times with yourself." You had a sly smile as you scrunched your nose up at him. Brian dropped his head with a slight chuckle, quickly gripping your other thigh and hoisting you up. He let out a laugh at the the yelp that came out of you.

"What a fucking tease, you knew all this time and didn't even wanna help a guy out? Maybe I should just leave you high and dry tonight then." He gave you a serious stare but it was a fucking lie. There was no way Brian was gonna choose not to sink into your soft form and watch you come undone. Annoyingly you seemed to already know that as you smiled at him.

"Just take me to the bed already, we both know thats not happening".

Brian could have said something sarcastic but did as told anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed so you were perched on his lap all pretty. His hands couldn't help but find place on your soft hips, thick fingers sinking into the doughy skin. His fingers found the fabric of your shorts, tugging them down and off of you, a small smirk forming on his lips at the sight of the pretty little thong you had on underneath.

You rested your hands on his chest, gliding them up and down the bare skin before dragging down to the top of his sweatpants.

Brian had to hold back a groan as you shifted against him. A sigh leaving him as you held onto his shoulders, his own hands tugging you closer as you ground into him. Half lidded eyes glanced up to your face, lips parted and your eyes downcast as you watched yourself move against him.

He felt like he was a in a haze as he watched you, hands gripping onto you like they never wanted to let go. He brought a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head so he could kiss your lips. Brian guided your hand back to his sweats, letting you tug them down to let his cock out. A sigh left him through his nose as you got right back to grinding against him, his cock catching on your damp panties every so often. A low chuckle goes through his chest at the sound of your whines, reaching a finger down to tug your panties aside. Rough hands gripped tightly onto your hips, beginning to guide your movements as his cock slid back and forth between your wet folds, the tip of his cock bumping against your clit every so often.

You found yourself on your back suddenly, head sinking down into a pillow as you blinked up at the blonde. It almost seemed predatory how he hovered over you, flushed lips panting as his eyes raked over your form. His hand almost smacks down onto your thigh with how rough he grips it, watching the fat squeeze through his fingers before moving your thighs apart and moving himself inbetween them.

Brian gulped as he watched your chest rise and fall underneath him, the way you looked laying there had his head racing with too many scenarios of everything he wanted to do to you.

"Please?". Just one word had him almost losing it, he'd imagined himself teasing you until you couldn't take it anymore countless times, but right now he couldn't seem to find the patience. Brian has to almost hold back a groan as he grips his cock, pushing it against your wet hole a few times before finally sinking in. The whine that leaves you has him huffing out a laugh as he catches his breath, grip tight on your hips as he lets you adjust.

It's truly a sight to see for Brian, thighs spread open around him, tank top bunched up on top of your soft tummy, the fabric stretched to the side and letting your tits almost spill out. He watched as your hands came up to paw at his chest, a lopsided grin forming on his lips as you mouthed his name. He didn't need anymore than that to start quickly putting into you, a grunt and a pant leaving him every few thrusts.

"Feel so soft under me pretty girl, fuck, just like I imagined." Rough hands squeezed at your thighs and hips, trailing up to your tummy despite the whines leaving you.

"Really don't understand how many times I've thought about fucking this soft cunt, so fuckin warm and tight and so god damn wet. Do you hear the filthy sounds your little cunt is making for me?." One of his hands left your thighs, coming up to grip your jaw in his hand so you could look up at him, smiling down at you like the cocky fuck he is. It felt like words were stuck in the back of your throat as he fucked you, your mouth opening a few times but no more than a moan leaving you. He grins with a harsh pant, hand leaving your jaw as it reaches down to suddenly tug at your nipple, a yelp leaving you.

"Oh I knew you could still talk, come on pumpkin, wanna hear you. Gotta use your big girl words for me."

The way he was talking to you was certainly doing something to you, talking in that sweet loving tone, his words drawn out, and yet it felt like he was mocking you. A louder moan leaves you as he moves to grip one of your thighs, holding it up against his hip so he can fuck into you deeper.

"Come on, tell me how it feels won't you baby?."

Fast pants and whimpers are leaving you before you can finally get your words to work. "S'feels good! Feels good Brian!."

He can't help but almost laugh at how whiny it comes out, rutting into you faster as he leans down against you.

"Aw atta girl, I knew you could do it pumpkin." The whine that leaves you before hiding your face into his shoulder is enough to make him finally laugh. Still gripping onto your thigh he slows down his pace, feeling himself getting worked up just a little too fast. He leans down just a bit more next to your ear, breathy voice the only other thing you can focus on other than his cock.

"You like when I call you sweet lil names huh sweetheart? Can't hide it with the cute sounds you make everytime I call you something. Is that all I need to do to get you to listen and talk to me hm? Call you baby, pumpkin or tell you just how good you are for me?."

Brian was really just rambling at this point, the slow drag of his cock slipping in and out of your warm cunt had his head feeling hazy. He was barely registering the way your nails slowly dug into his shoulders the more he talked.

"Don't worry baby, you can be my good girl every night." Finally leaning back up, he holds your cheek in his hand, taking a deep breath as he picks his pace back up again. He watches tears well up in your eyes, how warm your cheek is against his hand from embarrassment was going straight to his cock. His lips were on yours suddenly, the kiss messy and wet with drool seeping down your lips. Eyes were half lidded, watching the other before Brian pulled away, thumb coming up to swipe the drool back into your mouth. A heavy pant left him as he sunk his thumb into your mouth, resting it on your tongue as he groaned. He kept it there as his thrusts became short and quick.

"Need to feel you cum around me pretty girl, wanna watch you make a complete mess of yourself." Fingers slipped down in-between the both of you, two fingers coming down to your clit and rubbing in slow small circles. The arch in your back had him speeding up his fingers, grin never leaving his face as he watched your eyes screw shut.

"Fu-fuck, I-."

"Go ahead sweetheart, lemme feel you." Just one more sweet little name was all you needed apparently as you let out a whiny moan, thighs shuddering in his grasp. Both hands came to grip your waist as he grunted, quick curses leaving him before he was spilling into you.

Your hand ran over your forehead and layed above you as you panted, staring up at the ceiling as you listened to the blonde pant beside you. You glanced over at him, arm laying over his chest as he seemed to also be in a daze. Watching his Adams apple bob as he swallowed before glancing over at you too. The boyish smile that formed on his lips was enough for you as you smiled back.

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

Comments super appreciated cause I really wanna get back into writing, especially for marble hornets. Also yes this is set in an AU where they work for the operator, I'm sorry but it's easy and I'm dumb for them

[moonlight-prose]

✧ LOVE BETWEEN ✧

a/n: i am iffy about this fic as a whole. last night writing wise wasn't the best for me and my mood has been...oof. but i will forever love cassian so much. so i couldn't fully skip this day without finishing his fic. i need to write so much more for him and the wips in my drafts are screaming. so i guess it's time for a rewatch of andor! i hope you enjoy my loves. (also the gif has me frothing at the mouth).

day nineteen - dry humping | kinktober 2023

summary: "there remained an unspoken pull between the two of you that kept you tightly wrapped around one another. your souls knotted so tight there was no undoing what had been solidified. the unspoken future you had always planned."

word count: 1.4k+

pairing: cassian andor x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, dry humping, fluff and angst, cassian being head over heels.

There remained an unspoken pull between the two of you that kept you tightly wrapped around one another. Your souls knotted so tight there was no undoing what had been solidified. The unspoken future you had always planned. More often than not, he found himself in your home. Seeking out the pleasure of your company as you both drank the shittiest caf in existence, but it was all you could find.

He would tell you the goings on around town, the things you might have otherwise missed, and you’d speak to him about your dreams. What you wanted to strive for, what life could be like if the Empire wasn’t currently destroying everything. You spoke about anything and everything, divulging things to each other that felt too private to tell anyone else.

Tonight he sat on the shitty couch, jacket discarded onto your separate chair, and eyes tracking your every movement as you fluttered around in the kitchen. The scent of your caf wafted through the house. Burnt and bitter and familiar. You poured some into his mug before heading over to your spot beside him. The blanket already pooled around his waist.

“How is Bix?” you asked, feeling him shift to face you better as you settled, dragging the rough fabric up around your legs.

He shrugged, taking a sip and wincing at the taste. Yet another familiar movement. “She and Tim are…”

“Complicated?”

He huffed a laugh, eyes shifting to meet your gaze. “You could say that.”

“He loves her.” You set the mug on your small table that tilted slightly. “It’s obvious.”

Cassian’s voice came softer, eyes tracing the curve of your body as the blanket slipped down a bit, revealing the curve of your breasts in your top. “He does,” he murmured, fingers tightening around his mug when you shifted even closer. The air between the two of you, now warm.

Silence filled the space, laying over you like a different kind of blanket. One that offered softness, comfort. A place where you knew you could be yourself and voice what you wanted out of life. Cassian felt the same. He sunk into the couch, sipping on the caf still despite its awful flavor; a gesture that warmed your heart. The nights were a time you looked forward to most. When you could finally relish in the presence of the man you’d loved for as long as you could remember.

But to Cassian you were a friend.

Simply the person he sought out when he needed someone to make him feel like his feet were firmly planted on the ground. He wasn’t the greatest friend and he knew that. He knew that he oftentimes brought more trouble than necessary, but with you he laid his troubles by the door as if they were a coat to be hung. Something he would pick up on his way out. In order to keep that smile on your face. The joy that pressed into his chest, filling him with a feeling that he found himself running from most days.

Yet when it came to you…he didn’t want to run anymore.

You didn’t notice him setting his mug on the table, too invested in the paper beside you, something scribbled on it. “I forgot to tell you—”

Grasping the back of your neck gently, he dragged you closer, his lips finding yours and drawing out a sharp gasp from your mouth. It was a meager attempt to display those feelings that ate away at his heart. Something to show you that he came here each night for a reason. You. He came to hear your laughter, to drink your shitty caf, and watch you light up at his stories.

He came to feel the warmth of your love on an otherwise cold planet.

Seconds passed and for a moment he worried you didn’t want this. That he’d overstepped his boundaries and pushed the limit of your friendship too far. Your hands sliding into his hair and dragging him closer put a stop to those thoughts instantly. A soft moan echoed in the back of your throat, punching the breath from his lungs as he practically climbed over you. His hand grasping onto your waist, sliding your leg over his hip.

“Cas—”

“I’ve wanted to do this for years,” he mumbled breathlessly, shifting to pull you up into his lap, until your knees were pressing on either side of his hips, chest pressed to his. “Ever since that fucking dinner.”

You laughed softly, fingers tracing his jaw and Cassian forgot how to breathe for that mere moment. “The dinner wasn’t so bad.”

“Bix cooking is never a good thing.”

Another giggle filled the air as you leaned down to steal another kiss. The taste of your caf, so much better coming from your tongue. He found that he didn’t mind the flavor. As long he got to kiss you afterwards. Sucking in a breath, he bit at your bottom lips, hands sliding to grasp at your hips, pushing you even closer until no space remained.

“I met you,” he replied, watching your eyes darken with lust, lips parting when he dragged you over his already hard cock. “The only good part of that night.”

Heat flooded the back of your neck, spilling into your cheeks and overheating your body. Yet you’d never wanted something more in your whole life. He captured your lips in another kiss, hips bucking up to meet yours, a sound being pulled from your chest. Heady and wet. Similar to the way he devoured you. As if you were the only source of life for miles—kissing you until you had no choice but to gasp for air, yanking on his hair to separate yourself.

“I want—oh—” Your clit caught on the seam of your pants, the press of his cock driving you insane as he dragged you across his lap again. A deep moan bubbling up in your throat, eyes fluttering shut when pleasure burst across your senses.

“I want to see you,” he said, chest heaving and eyes dark with need.

“I’m here.”

His lips curled up, grinding into you and watching your face contort, eyebrows pulling together while your mouth dropped open. “No. I want…to see you.”

The meaning registered in your brain slower than you would have liked. Yet once it did, you couldn’t find the words to respond. Each of them more incoherent than the last. He wanted to watch you cum. To witness you at the peak of pleasure, knowing that it was caused by him.

“Cassian,” you gasped, grinding down until sparks shot up your spine. Slick flooded your panties, no doubt soaking through to his pants. You dragged yourself along his lap, arms curled around his neck and lips brushing his as he panted into your mouth.

“Take what you want,” he said hoarsely, helping you guide your movements as he bucked up into you with each shift. “Use me.”

“Maker.”

You went lightheaded. The rush of need plowing through your body as he led you through the movements. Your legs were slightly shaky, eyes squeezed shut and lips scratching along his cheek. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Cassian held you like you were precious kyber. Something he could one day lose in the middle of terror.

“I’m gonna, Maker I’m g-gonna—fuck Cas—”

Licking a hot trail up your throat, he felt you shudder above him, your cry bouncing off the walls of your house. He watched the bliss wash across your face and wanted to see it again. As many times as you’d permit him. Pressing his hips up and grinding roughly against the seam of your pants, he felt his body lock up—his rough moan pressed to your chest. His cock twitched in his pants, cum soaking through the fabric.

It would get uncomfortable soon, but he had you on top of him, pressing kissing down his neck and sucking on the skin. Drawing out another soft moan.

“That was new,” you said softly, smiling into his shoulder. He chuckled, hands moving to cover your ass. “Although I wouldn’t mind adding that to our nights.”

“Shitty caf and a good fuck?”

You slapped his shoulder, body shaking as you laughed and he couldn’t stop himself from joining. Feeling a type of joy that only came around you. He wanted to lock it in his chest. To remember what this felt like even when he wasn’t there with you. But to Cassian there was no place he’d rather be.

“Perfect,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his, sealing your future with a kiss he felt down to his toes.

[shadowreader23]

Batman prank fic (part 2)

Tim grinned manically as he finished the code. He was already on his sixth cup of coffee and he had been up all night working on this code but it was finally finished. Glaring at his now empty coffee cup like it betrayed him he went downstairs to grab some more coffee to prepare himself for the day.

"Morning tim!" Dick greetedly happily as Tim walked into the kitchen

Dick was sat on the kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal.

"Alfreds gonna kill you for that" Tim informed Dick of his fate.

"Nah hes gone to the store for some supplies so i broke out some of my secret ceral stash" Dick replied

"I do not undersrand your love for that sugary terror" Damian complained entering the kitched to make himself some toast

"For once i agree with Damian"

"Tch. Well Drake it's time you finaly see i have the most sense. Also I wish to know are we truly continuing with the prank tirade to see who is the best at pranks? And who is fathers favorite beacuse i do not understand the point of seeing who is the best at pranks" Damian reasoned

"Think of it not as pranking but as a test of your planning, preparation, execution, and emotional manipulation skills" Tim translated into Damian speak.

It was true pranks required planning then the action and elected the desired emotion in the person being pranked. Ok maybe he should get some sleep how long had it been again?

"Well may the best son win" Damian said

"I already have a head start" Dick reminda then

"The pink batsuit was childsplay however the voice was a nice touch" Tim reluctantly admits

It had been over a week since Dick painted the batsuit pink and Bruce was still finding glitter in the cave.

"I'll see you later" Tim decides to leave the kitchen with his mug of coffee to retreat to his room and watch the choas that was about to unfold. ----------------- "Grayson!" Robin called angroly glaring at Nightwing who was lounging in the front passenger seat of the batmobile

"I called shotgun you know the rules baby bird" Nightwing retorted

With a glare Robin climbed into the back of the batmobile and waited for batman.

The three of them were going to investigate something strage happening commisioner Gordon himself had requested their aid.

Red Robin was not patroling tonight but was helping Agent A run coms.

"Lets go" Batman said climbing into the batmobile and driving full speed from the cave

"Can i play music?" Nightwing asked giving his most pleeding face

"No" Batman responded

"Please" Nightwing asked again "No" Batman responded once more

"But B" Nightwing pleaded

"You are an adult now Nightwing set a good example for Robin" Batman finished

A moment of awkward silence passed then the speakers in the car came to life.

'Baby shark do do do do do'

Robins face folded into a scowl as Nightwings became one of pure hapiness

"Baby shark do do do do do do' Nightwing began to sing along

"Nightwing turn it off" Batman ordered

"I didn't even turn it on!" Nightwing protested

The song continued to play and despite their best efforts they could not get it to stop. They had the same problem on the way back from meeting Gordon as well. By that point even nightwing was sick of the song.

Tim smiled and sipped his coffe this was more of a revenge prank than a normal prank but it still counted. He'd like to see the others try and top that. But first it was time for one of Alfreds cookies.

______ Part 3? Who should prank Bruce next?

[reeseaisance]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: LIBERICA ┊K.NANAMI X BLACK!FEM!READER

࿐ A rare and exotic type of coffee bean, with a woody and smoky flavour and a floral aroma.

The air was crisp. A subtle sign that Spring was near and every living thing was slowly coming back to life. Yet the sky was painted a deep blue as the streets were filled with a bustle of life, from the pattering of feet against the concrete ground to the chatter of many filling the breeze. Yet here he sat at the corner booth, sipping on his regular order from the popular jazz club, Sensuous, a club that’s been open for many years thriving from its regulars and the artists that wander along the streets of the city. The longer he sat, waiting, the stupider the man felt about the whole ordeal. Was he the only one who took the deal seriously? Was he stupid enough to have believed she would remember a deal that was made over 20 years ago? Maybe he was being optimistic about the whole thing, which was out of character for him especially, considering the man was as stoic as a brick wall, but a piece of him had hope that she wouldn’t have forgotten him. Forgotten them. Taking another sip at the hot liquid that filled his mug, a young man with long, raven-like hair pulled up into a messy bun appeared on stage, “Again, welcome to Sensuous if this is your first time gracing the club and welcome back to the regulars who we love so much. As we all know, tonight is open mic night, but if you’ve been a recurring guest for the last couple of years, you may all know this voice. It’s been a while since we’ve seen this beauty around these parts…” the man paused, glancing at the woman with pure admiration, “Please give her a warm welcome back, Dove.”

The moment that voice rang through the walls, Nanami could feel his heartbeat intensify by the minute. His eyes shot up to be blessed with the sight of her. The woman who has danced through his mind without a care in the world for 2 decades. Her voice, smooth like honey but a smokeness that had men and women drawn by her allure. She knew how to use her instrument in such a way that can convince anyone to do as she pleased within a blink of an eye. Her thick locs styled up into a bun, a few framing her face, before moving down to the olive green silk dress that hugged at her curves without issue, complimenting her coffee hued skin. She was gorgeous, just as gorgeous as she was when they were 19. Oh how time can bless a woman, a phenomenon Nanami only ever thought could be a lie when he was younger, but here she was again proving him wrong, like always. The way she sang into the mic, her airy notes having everyone enthralled in her presence like she used to but her power was much greater, indeed it was. With age to her instrument, it carried a richer sound, more seasoned. Maybe experience? Nanami couldn’t express what he felt due to him being too deep regarding her ability.

“Y'all are being so kind to me, I appreciate the love.” You cooed into the mic, taking in the crowd as the snaps filled the air, “But I’m going to need a little assistance for my next song…” You spoke, your eyes still fishing through the crowd. Nanami could only hold his breath as your eyes stopped at him, his heart rapidly beating against his chest as that smile graced your plump lips and that devious little twinkle you got in your eye, “ Do we have a trumpet player in the building this evening?” As if she really expected him to have his instrument with him on hand. Letting out a light chuckle, foreseeing this possibly happening, he dug underneath his booth, pulling out his case, opening it up to reveal the brass instrument before he made his way towards the stage. The closer he got, the more he felt he was walking towards the sun. Her energy alone was so bright and radiating, the moment he was in front of her, a red blush tinted his cheek, “Isn’t this perfect, everyone welcome this kind gentleman, yeah?” She smirked, glancing up at Nanami as the crowd snapped some more.

Giving him some time to set up and sipping at the water that waited beside her on the stool, she glanced back at him, sending him a wink before his lips on the mouthpiece, his fingers following suit pressing at the valves of the song they composed and wrote together from their teens. The crowd becomes immersed by the unknown tone in seconds of hearing it. As the song continued and it started to become more intense, that’s when Nanami really started to show off and Y/N just had to match it. Her notes hitting just the same as his, it was as if they were poetically having a conversation. So sensual and sweet just for it to become fiery as if they were fighting. It was beautiful yet terrifying because everyone could just see the energy the two had with one another. Considering the fact that she just happened to pick this random man, but if only they knew the history, then they could understand the underlying passion that rests between the two.

Their performance lasted 8 minutes. Those 8 minutes told the story of their journey with one another but to the crowd, it was one of the greatest performances they ever witnessed. Forgetting the snaps and being flooded with the sounds of claps and whistles, Nanami packed away his trumpet with a slight smile as Y/N waltzed her way over to the bar, Nanami following her lead soon after, “A French 75.” you ordered, gracing the bartender with a kind smile, “A Stinger for me…” A voice from behind ordered, as well as the $35 being slid against the counter. “This is covering her drink as well.” He added before he slid by her side with ease.

“It’s nice seeing you, Nanami.” You smiled as you stared over at the blond, a warmth taking over your body instantly as he stared down at you with those hazel eyes. Oh how you missed those eyes, “ I can say the same, Y/N. It’s been so long.” Nanami quipped, earning an eye roll from you, which only led to a shared laugh between the two of you as you both savored this moment. The bartender made his presence known with both drinks. Thanking him, the two shared a sip as the silence wrapped them up like a blanket. There was so much to say but at the same time, nothing at all. It was as if all the things they thought about, thought they would say, got lost in translation through the music.

“How about we move this somewhere else?” he suggested, which only made you take another sip of your drink before your eyes landed back on his, “Where did you have in mind?”

•••

The moonlight peaked through the curtains of the highrise apartment as the glow kissed at your brown skin beautifully, adding to the glow that coated your body.

“Nami…” You moaned as your hands gripped his shoulder blades, your thick thighs trapping him at the waist as he fed you deep thrust, “Yes, Dove?” he asked breathlessly as he took a moment to admire your current state, locs sprawled against the silk pillows, breast plump and nipples hardened from the cool air, your skin glowing thanks to the sheer layer of sweat. You were gorgeous. Which only led him to him rutting his hips into you. The way your walls clenched around him with ease had the man ready to tap out, but he just couldn’t.

“You’re doing so well for me, Dove.” Nanami praised as he raised from your neck, taking in the precious state you were in right now. Just angelic. Locs sprawled against the silk sheets, breast plump and nippled hardend from the cool air, your skin glowing thanks to the sheer layer of sweat. A sight he didn’t want to forget. Just as he admired you, you did just the same taking in the man in front of you. They usually combed over blond strands in a wild mess that fit him just as well. His tan skin decorated with your brown lip liner and his toned physique that always made you melt. Resting against your elbows, you reached a hand up to his cheek, pulling him down to press a kiss to his soft lips. Taking in his taste, getting access to entangle your tongue with his that only evoked a moan out of him as you switched positions, straddling his lap in an instant as you rocked your hips against him. Skin to skin, tangled in the sheets, this was what you craved, what you needed for all this time. “I missed you so much, Nami.” You whispered against his lips as your almond shaped nails dragged along his chest, “I know, Dove. It’s been so long.” The man sighed as he watched you carefully, your hands going between your thighs as you gripped at his hardened 8 inches, jerking it slightly that caused a hiss to leave his lips.

“You know I didn’t want it this way, right?” You asked him, running his tip along your slick folds as you stared down at him, which only made him thrust into your hand, “Y/N…” He started as you began to sink down onto him, “Nami I promise I didn’t want it to be like this.” You spoke, a moan releasing from you once you sank down onto him fully, A silence filling the room as his hands found your waist, making circles against the meat with his thumbs, “Dove, please.” He groaned as he began to move your hips against his pelvis, his thrust reaching the depths of you as you planted your palms against his chest, “I know but Nami..” you started again only to be hushed with his lips encapsulating yours, such a simple kiss, but a devastating one at the same token. As his hips began to stutter and your lips began to depart, you didn’t even realize the tear that rolled from your eye before he wiped it away with his thumb, “I know you’re sorry, Dove. But what are we supposed to do now?” He questioned as his movements stopped, only pulling you close to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the stream flowing from you instantly as he simply rubbed at your back, comforting you as best he could.

It took some hours for you to come down from your moment of vulnerability. From taking you to the warm bath and massaging your sore muscle to retrieving you some tea and finally cuddling in the silk sheets is when you calmed down. Having to come down from such an intimate moment to make a sad one broke Nanami, but he expected it to happen. Considering the circumstances. But here he sat now, in the empty bed at 8 am on the dot, left with only the memory of the night shared between the two of you, wondering how that could have been forever. That could have been your shared reality. If only you didn’t marry him.

࿐ luv letter from reese — this is my first post and i truly hope you enjoyed it because i enjoyed writing this piece!! a little longer then expected for my first piece but i’m still proud of it! please don’t be afraid to give feedback and i hope you love it!!!

[chenfordspiral]

ch. 29 - love is patient

More thirsty Lucy with absolutely no filter at all and still driving Tim insane (you’re welcome), an anniversary Lucy wishes wasn’t one, and the 20-week anatomy scan.

early September 2026

Time seems to fly by with this pregnancy. Before they know it, another two weeks have passed. Between their busy work schedules, and now their, well, busier than ever sex life, time goes by fast. And yet, Lucy never runs out of energy. Which might just be the perfect way to prepare Tim for fatherhood because chances are pretty good that their child will grow up to be just as energetic as their mother.

It’s the first of their two days off, which in and of itself is a rarity these days, and Lucy is up at the crack of dawn and ready for a hike less than an hour later.

“Okay, it’s very unsettling to see you up and about this early. Sometimes I’m not sure you’re the same woman I fell in love with,” he yawns before taking another sip of his coffee.

Lucy levels him with a glare. “You know, Tamara, Kojo, and the baby and I can go by ourselves. We don’t need you.”

“Seriously man, you might wanna cool it with the jokes. One day she might actually kill you otherwise,” Tamara comments as she walks by to get herself a cup of coffee as well.

“What she said,” Lucy agrees with a serious nod. “You know I’d hate to kill my favorite person.”

“And yet we all know you’d probably do it.”

“In a heartbeat. No, actually, maybe not. Cause then I’d be responsible for my own heartbreak.” Her bottom lip begins to quiver, her irritation suddenly replaced by sadness. “I’d really miss you.”

Tim’s eyes widen in horror and he's internally kicking himself for having started this, so he sets his mug down on the counter to walk around to Lucy. As he reaches for her, though, she flinches away from him before he can actually touch her.

“Don’t touch me!” she cries.

“Woah, okay. Sorry. Wh-what do you need?”

“I don’t know!” she sobs, a hand covering her mouth as she turns to face Tim and bury her face in his chest without warning.

“O-okay. Come here.”

He hugs her body against his, a hand cupping the back of her head protectively. He locks eyes with Tamara leaning against the counter four feet away, her eyes wide.

“Wow,” she mouths.

Tim silently agrees with an almost indecipherable nod of his head. A moment later, Kojo is suddenly at their feet and letting out a pitiful noise as he nudges his snout against Lucy’s leg. She lifts her head off Tim’s chest and bends down to cup her boy’s head between both hands.

“I’m okay, boy. Promise.” But contrary to her words, another sob escapes her. She shakes her head. “I’m not okay. Tim,” she cries and promptly stands back up to bury her face in his chest again.

Neither Tim nor Tamara really know what to do right now, so they just stand in silence and wait until Lucy is ready to talk again. But neither is prepared for what she says next, either.

“Can we have sex before we leave?” she eventually mumbles loud enough for Tamara to hear.

“O-kay, I’m right here.”

keep reading on AO3.

[ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole]

Ugly Mugs and Icy Dips

Part of the midnight snack series, set after Stress Baking but before/during All because of a cookie!!

Masterlist

......................................

The Ugly Mug Cafe is… not the prettiest of establishments. The chairs didn't match, the tables were wonky, but it held a warmth and homely feel which very rarely existed in Gotham, especially in the East End and this close to the Bowery.

It was run by a gruff ex-con Gothamite who took care of his city's people but was willing to let those smuggled or hiding in the Gotham gloom without the relevant papers work with minimal fuss, as long as they could use his dragon beast of a coffee machine he would happily have a blind eye. The staff ended up being mainly either fellow ex-cons or students, willing to work the unsociable hours that were required for opening early and closing late.

With it being owned by a hardy Gothmite that exuded malice towards anyone who stepped out of line and didn't abide by his rules and ran by bitter overworked students or limited break ex-criminals who held no humour for robbery attempts, the cafe ended up a fairly neutral ground. Fights, thefts and robberies were minimal and it helped that the coffee was good. Really good. The pastries and cakes were improving in quality. And had a quirky secret menu for those in desperate need of a caffeine fix and those loyal regulars who The Ugly Mug employees deemed worthy.

Despite all the rough and sharp edges the cafe held, students adored the place during finals week where the special coffee kept them going on all nighters. Commuters favoured the place as it helped soothe their frozen bitter souls as they moved from the rough outer city edges and went further in for work.

And Tim.

Tim- Red Robin had found the place after a particularly grueling patrol.

Patrol had ended up with all bats hands required at the docks to deal with Scarecrow and a shipment of chemicals. During the last part of the fight Red Robin had taken a plunge in the docks murky water and well, by the time he had managed to get back to land the fight had ended with him being cold wet, cold and extremely grumpy at all of it. All he really had wanted to do was to get out of his costume and soak in an over-heated bath with a giant, steaming cup of coffee, or tea, in that moment he wasn't fussy. As long as it was hot and caffeinated he'd make do.

Somehow, Tim had got slightly disoriented on the way past Jason's domain (he would completely blame the icy dip he'd taken and not the exhaustion) but had stumbled upon this golden cafe. He had stumbled in to meet a coffee angel sent by the gods. The dark haired heavenly woman took one look at his pathetic looking vigilante self and started moving around the counter working the coffee machine with precision.

The aromas that filled the small run down space enticed Tim further into the building. The coffee sprite placed a concoction that was more than just coffee in front of him in the most hideous cup he'd seen in a while as he dripped onto the tiled floor. It was in that first sip that Tim's world narrowed down to this establishment. It was his new home. The brew was his new fuel. His life source. The celestial being behind the bashed up counter was the cardinal of the coffee gods. He'd worship with her for more of the sweet bitter nectar that he held in his hands. The coffee was the most magical and revitalising drink off menu that Tim had ever been blessed with. This was HIS coffee haven. His safe space. His daily stop to make it through the day in both faces of his life.

From that moment on, Tim knew that he was going to be visiting this place regularly. He was going to get to know the coffee padre.

What Tim hadn't been aware of completely was that as he cherished the coffee before him the barista had disappeared, returned and mopped around the vigilante and could hear his whispers of love to the steaming drink. Her angelic laughter and mischievous smile drew him from the trance that he had entered.

"I would not say the coffee holds secrets to the universe Monsieur Red."

It wasn't good really to lose complete awareness without backup and all because of a hot drink in a grotesque ceramic vessel. A blush grew under the mask that Tim wore, hopefully hidden, but if not he'd blame the warmth of the establishment pushing the cold that ached in his bones away.

"I might disagree. This is amazing, I can feel its power tingling in my toes."

"That might be more to the fact you look like a drowned rat and are warming up rather than the coffee, non?"

"Nope. Definitely the coffee. Nothing to do with the dip I took in the harbour."

"The harbour?"

The woman raised her eyebrow, opening the sapphire eyes further, from behind the counter as she started to move about puzzling Tim.

"I… yeah… wouldn't recommend midnight swims in the harbour this time of year."

Snorting with a huffed amusement, a plate with a reheated pastry appeared before Tim as the woman returned to cleaning behind the counter.

"Being Gotham, I'd say midnight swims any time of year aren't recommended."

"True. This is Gotham. You've picked that up quickly, it's not often non-Gothamites get the city's quirks. What made you choose this hell hole to work in?"

"Small gods, a slice of chance and fate."

It said everything and nothing all at once. Tim couldn't help but smile wryly at the barista before him. They fell into an easy teasing conversation that cemented the idea that this was his place. That this unusual, witty barista was going to be his friend and coffee dealer.

Given that The Ugly Mug coffee stop was not really on route to Wayne Enterprises from either the Manor, the Wayne City Apartment and it was tangential on route from Tim's nest, so getting there regularly in either persona's meant planning. Which was exactly what Tim excelled at. Subtly hints and some slight manipulation with planting the seed of thought meant that now his patrol routes passed close enough to the cafe at least 4 times a week. Getting up a fraction earlier and sacrificing more of his sleep was a forfeit he was willing to take to get this blessed nectar (he just needed to be cautious about hiding this information from his family). He'd also been able to task an intern to use his work driver and collect a midday pick me up from the establishment.

All in all, even though he had taken a dip into the freezing waters of Gotham docks (and ended up with a stubborn cold that took forever to shake), that evening had been a blessing in disguise.

Convincing Alfred that Tim would drive himself to the office this morning was hard. Tim claimed it was due to him wanting to pick up some paperwork and to talk to some heads of areas. Alfred's disapproval resonated off him since Tim was 'meant to rest' and recover from bruised ribs and twisted ankle. Tim ended up deploying Tam's disappointment and threat of maiming Tim that eventually convinced the elder man, with also the promise he would come straight home afterwards.

Free from Alfred's hawklike eye, Tim drove to his favourite location swiftly. He would go to the office, but first he needed to catch up with the devil in disguise, his favourite dealer to get the precious nectar he required.

Parking nearby, Tim turned to walk towards the cafe where he spotted the man lurking outside watching through the window.

Tim had been observing the man make this daily trip for about 3 months. The male always waited outside until he had spotted the caffeine cleric blessed to earth by the coffee gods before storming inside. He was meticulous in ensuring that she would be the one to serve him and then order the same bland unimaginative order everytime.

Tim followed behind the insipid man who suddenly darted in like it wasn't obvious he was waiting outside. Tim joined the small queue observing the situation, his mouth salivating with a pavlov response to the smells of coffee and sweet pastries. He grimaced watching the scene unfold in front of him.

It was painful just watching the unimpressive man flirt hopelessly with the coffee artist, who pointedly ignored the attempts and stuck studiously in just focusing on getting through the orders of the morning rush. It baffled Tim as to why anyone with any brains would come in at peak(ish) time to flirt with working servers and hold up the queue of tired, grumpy commuters.

Tim could easily admit that his dealer was cute, in a sister kinda way. Tim knew, from conversation with the blessed coffee provider, that the sharp wit and passionate fashionista was destined for greater things. She was worth more than serving coffee, baking delectable treats and being tied down with a partner of mediocrity who thought an espresso and a cappuccino to go was the height of coffee.

Tim's attention was drawn back to the situation occurring in front of him by the blonde customer in front snorting in amusement. Tim watched the car crash with a suppressed horror as the man leant on the counter and oggled the caffeine magician.

"Next!"

The vapid man stepped towards the counter.

"What can I get you?"

"I don't have caffeine in my system yet but you've just jumped started my heart. My usual please, sugar."

"And what's your usual?"

The cocky attitude the man held stuttered as an eyebrow raised waiting for his response. A pink dusting grew on his cheeks as the queue sniggered at the awkward exchange.

"An espresso and a cappuccino to go please."

"Name?"

"Marc, with a C. The C is for cuteness just like you."

"Oo-kay. One espresso and one cappuccino, coming up. Please wait by the end counter, please."

Dismissing the embarrassed man, the Caffeine Queen handed the order to her colleague then turned to the customer in front of Tim who wasn't even trying to cover their sniggers. The cropped haired blonde gave her order to Marinette who smiled in fake serenity as she put the order through the till before going to retrieve a pastry for the woman.

The fake smile morphed into an honest devil's grin as she eventually got to Tim. Her true chaotic nature resonated around the room causing Tim to send her a smirk.

"Tim!!! Your usual? Wide-awake poison? Or did you want to try something new like Finals Week Brew? Or I can make you my specialty, Hawkmoth Demise?"

"Morning Marinette. As tempting as the Hawkmoth Demise is… I'll stick with Wide-awake poison please. How are you this fair day my caffeine cleric, priestess of the grounds, goddess of the beans?"

"Oh you know, bitter souled as the roasted waters I brew. Is this to take away or will I be honoured with your presence for a while?"

The pair snorted at the jokes that jovially passed between each other adding further dramatics where they could as they ignored Marc's ever growing glare.

"Take away my fairest Barista. As much as I would desire to rest my weary soul in your presence, a quest of paperwork awaits me. To achieve this quest I require your blessing. I would be nothing without your magic caffeine potion."

Laughing and seeing as Tim was the last in the queue, Marinette moved to make his personalised drink as her colleague continued to make both Marc's and the blonde's before him.

"Cark? A espresso and cappuccino to go for Cark?"

No one moved. Tim watched as Marc bristled and had to hide his face and hope he could keep the giggles in.

"Oh Dan, that's Mark's with a C's drink. Not Cark. It is an unusual pronunciation of the spelling."

Marinette's cheerful voice drifted over the counter as the man turned beetroot and an ugly expression grew on his face. Marc snatched the drinks with a growl and stormed out of the cafe snarling at people in his way. Tim really hoped this wouldn't bite them on the proverbial later as the almost stalker left the premises.

"Maybe he should choose a more sensible coffee name with that kinda spelling Mare."

"Hmm probably."

Letting Marinette continue drink making, Dan called out for an Ash to collect their drink before noting the blonde staring at Marinette's pastry like it held the answers to the universe. Shaking his head Dan moved to the counter to serve the new crowd that had started to form.

Tim watched the blonde gaze at the treat, ignoring the world around her while Marinette flitted about making his life source essence. Finally, with a flourish, Marinette produced the largest possible takeaway cup of coffee with dragons and knights doodled across it.

"Sir gallant Tim. The potion for your epic journey."

Coughing politely, Tim tried to hurry Ash along as she continued to be entranced by the pastry in her hand. Tim could see Marinette smirking at him, like this wasn't an uncommon sight. Given how he reacted the first time he had found the place, maybe it wasn't that uncommon. The pastries were as good as the coffee since she'd started working at the Ugly Mug. The woman suddenly moved, drawn out of her daze and grabbed Ash's drink and moved to sit further within the cafe. Smiling in amusement, Tim shook his head and finally moved to get his precious nectar.

"My thanks dearest Caffeine Cleric. You're a blessing to the universe."

"Don't you forget it."

"I would never."

"Seriously, Marinette. Your coffee is the best. It's the highlight of my day."

"You say that all the time."

"It's the truth."

Smiling back with fondness, Marinette shook her head and handed Tim his drink.

"See you about Tim. Go tackle those papers and office mumbo jumbo. You know where to find me."

"Always. See ya Marinette."

With that Tim grinned while sipping his coffee and moved to leave his mini safe haven. Sighing in relief from the coffee flooding through his system before sighing again, bracing himself for the outside world.

Pushing the door open, Tim left the safe space of the best coffee establishment in Gotham. His family must never know about this place. He would set the world on fire to protect the hideaway cafe that was unobtrusive but homely to those who knew it's existence.

The Ugly Mug and its staff may not know it but as well as being neutral grounds due to the gruff owner and sassy worn out staff, it was under the protection of Red Robin - and Tim.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Clark Kent being a good uncle to Dick! Maybe helping him figure out his relationship issues?

"Okay what'd I miss?" Clark said dropping into a comfortable chair and accepting a mug of tea from Alfred with a smile of thanks.

"A lot," Dick snorted.

"He's dating my teacher," Damian declared, pleased with himself and giving Dick a smug smile.

"We went out for coffee once so I could thank her for keeping you from-"

"Whatever, dude," Tim said grinning. For years Dick had been an unrepenant manwhore. Playing with feelings and leaving a trail of sexually satisfied but heartbroken women behind him- it was incredible watching an Elementary School teacher of all people wrap him handily around her little finger.

Dick groaned and stood up, cheeks darkening as he felt Clark watching him, more confused than anything. Clark sipped his tea and watied. The other boys moved on to more tittilating gossip and Dick stayed by the window, adding his two cents here or there but otherwise- nothing.

His mind was clearly engaged elsewhere. Probably thinking about- or trying not to think about the girl he's gotten enamored with. By the time the est of the kids had gone to wash up for dinner, Clark just couldn't stand it anymore. A kid that in love with someone would not be that stressed out. "Dick," Clark said smiling a little when he watched him look anxiously down at his phone, "You know this could all work out right?"

"It'd be dangerous- she could get hurt, she could-"

"Yeah," he said, standing and coming to stand near Dick, "Or she could spend the rest of her life hand in hand with you-"

"She's just so... sweet," Dick said. "She goes home to visit her family on holidays and actually wants to be there. She volunteers at the homeless shelter when she can. She just-"

"You want her because she's a light, Dick. You want her because you look at her and she takes up all the space where pain used to sit-"

"Yeah," he said, blushing. Remembering how good it felt just to hold your hand as he walked you back to the car. To make sure you were safe. And happy. Remembering the way you flustered when he helped you into your coat and scarf- he thought maybe you liked him too. Maybe you wanted him to kiss you but were afraid of being too much.

"Go after her," Clark encouraged, squeezing his shoulder. "And make sure you save me some wedding cake-" And when Dick glared at him, blushing furiously Clark grinned. Deep down, Dick had always wanted a wife. And kids. And to feel stable. To want to have somewhere to call home- And Clark was willing to bet that somewhere in the back of his mind he was already planning how he'd con you into having a Red Velvet wedding cake.

[batsandbugs]

Bruce Wayne's Headache Classification System

IKEA VERSE

AN: So... three parts has now turned into a five-part. Hope that's okay. I thought I could wait to publish the entire conversation between Bruce and the boys, but I'm. Still. Working. On. It. So, y'all are getting the first of three parts to this frankly epic retelling of the IKEA events from the boy's perspective. So Yes I continue the IcedAquarius's old tradition of increasing my chapter counts. I would apologize, but I doubt any of you are mad. 😁The second part should be out... relatively soon. I'm not making any promises but it shouldn't be a month again. I'm getting close. As always enjoy!

(P.S. As always Jason Todd is being written as if played by Jensen Ackles, I'm sorry I don't make the rules!)

Chapter 2

Bruce lingers at the dining room’s doorway, secure in the shadows the dim lighting casts, observing his battlefield with intense precision.

The twenty-two-seater, solid wood table, lies buried in papers, folders, and a grand collection of coffee mugs and tumblers. In the middle, Tim resides in the carnage, staring deeply into the void of his computer. Dark eye bags, greasy hair, and occasional eye twitch clear outward signs of his severely worsening exhaustion.

His son’s chronic insomnia stemmed from a variety of issues; habit, necessity, and a factor of uncontrollable circumstance. Sometimes Tim just couldn’t fall asleep. Bruce would insist on medication if it would work on his strung-out son. It doesn’t. They tried.

Maybe less coffee.

As if sensing Bruce’s thoughts, Tim’s hand reflexively tightens around his current mug. He takes a long sip of whatever liquid is inside – ideally water, but probably coffee – and cradles the mug close with all the ferocity of a mother lioness protecting her cub.

Bruce steps inside.

Newspaper clutched in hand.

“Good afternoon, Tim,” he greets. Lunch passed hours ago. 

“Hey Bruce,” Tim replies, not looking up from his screen. “Invasion or coup?”

“It was a coup; I’ll drop you the files.” Tim grunts in acknowledgment. “Can you answer me something?”

“Sure.”

Bruce shakes the paper. “What is this?”

Tim’s eyes still scan across the screen. “Well, it sounds like a piece of paper, but I assume you’re referring to what’s on the paper?”

The headache drops in all at once, starting at the crown of Bruce’s head and sinking through his poor abused brain until it lands on his shoulders. Tightening every muscle seizing them until he’s nothing more than a walking ball of nerves.

This is his My-children-are-about-to-cause-me-untold-hassles headache.

“Tim.”

Bloodshot eyes finally look up. Tim tilts his head like a confused bird. “Why are you reading a physical newspaper, Bruce? Are you finally experiencing your mid-life crisis and trying to act like, a hipster or something?”

“I’m always in crisis.”

“Same.”

Bruce represses the urge to sigh with a deep concern for his son. “Tim…”

“Why are you getting your news from a paper? We’re in the 21st century. You have a phone and media accounts. I know you do, I made them.”

Bruce lays the paper down on the crowded table and decides to play his son’s game. He plucks his phone out of his pocket.

“Okay, fine.” Swiftly opening up Twitter, already loaded with trending stories. “Care to explain to me why there is a video of you, barefoot, and Jason, with a nerf gun, arguing political philosophies on a shopping cart in the middle of an IKEA trending on Twitter?”

Tim’s brow furrows with a detached perplexity. “We’re still trending? I thought it would drop in rank hours ago.”

“The video has thirty-eight million views.”

“Last I saw it yesterday it only had nineteen million.”

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.”

Tim leans his chair back on two legs. Vivid memories of Alfred smacking Bruce’s knuckles for the same action come to mind. “Oh, wow full name. Look I haven’t slept ever since Dick dragged me out of bed at eight in the morning for his demented version of family bonding time two days ago. Three newspapers, two broadcasting companies, and all of Twitter want an official statement on whatever the hell happened.” Tim snags a file, presumably holding those requests, and waves it around like the frying pan he most definitely wants to wield against said media outlets.

“I don’t even know what the hell happened! I was too busy being set on fire and held hostage by security for an hour while Damian and his little girlfriend wreaked havoc across the store.” Abandoning the file, he reaches for his coffee mug and shoots back the caffeinated sludge’s last remains like one does hard liquor.

Bruce’s brain goes blissfully still for one moment, before doubling the intensity of his headache.

“Damian’s… girlfriend?” Oh, Bruce is so having words with Alfred about this later. He should have wrung the man for every last detail instead of walking into this mess of a conversation blind.  

Tim laughs; high, manic, and incredulous. “Oh, yeah. Her. Haven’t managed to find a single drop of information about her beyond her name, that she attends fashion design school, here, in Gotham for some godforsaken reason. Especially when, get this, she’s French, and her parents run a fucking famous bakery in Paris. She doesn’t exist, she’s a ghost. I’m pretty sure it’s the damn magic.”

Nope, his headache has quickly gone from My-children-are-about-to-cause-me-untold-hassles to I-am-not-mentally-or-emotionally-preared-to-handle-this-chaos. “Magic?”

Tim leans in, his left eye twitching rapidly. “Yeah, she said her powers only affected situational probability, but considering Damian’s been glued to his phone ever since, and smiling, I call bullshit. He’s obsessed. Hook, line, and sinker. I still think it’s bewitchment, but the demon brat won’t hear a negative word against her.” Tim – clad in a wrinkled, singed cardigan – gestures to his arm. The sleeve is ripped. “He threw a knife at me.”

A clatter in the hallway connecting the kitchen to the dining room interrupts the conversation, and a second later Jason walks through the door carrying a plate heaped high with nachos, and an entire liter of diet coke. His dark grey shirt reads, ‘I’m just here to establish an alibi.’

“What’cha two talkin’ ‘bout?” he asks, taking a seat on the table’s other side. “Oh, hey Bruce, glad to see you’re not dead in space, or whatever.”

“Thank you, Jason,” says Bruce, the tension in his shoulders growing tighter the longer this conversation continues. Bruce takes a seat three chairs down from Tim. Bandaged ribs still aching from slamming against an alien tank. 

“I’m giving Bruce the report on Damian’s girlfriend, and his subsequent bewitchment.”

“Oh, not too sure on the last part, but she sure as shit is just as demented as him. Is Dickie here? He needs to be here for this.” Placing down his plate he grabs his phone. “Never mind I’ll call him.”

The call picks up quickly. “What’s up, Jaybird?” says Dick, sounding a little out of breath.

“Hey, B wants a sitrep on your grand family bonding activity and Damian’s magical French girlfriend.”

“Oh, shit.”

Jason's grin is wide and sharklike. “Yeah, get your ass to the big dining room, golden boy. You’re not leaving us to take the fall for your screwup.”

“Um…”

“Don’t make me hunt you down, Dick,” Jason warns, brandishing a nacho at the phone like a tiny knife. “I will do it, don’t test me.”

“Dick, if you could please come here and explain to me what happened,” Bruce says, trying to keep his calm. He loves his children… Even if they are currently driving him up a wall.

Dick sighs, the sound crackles through the tiny speaker. “Yeah, sure give me a second.” The call disconnects.

“Damian should be involved as well,” Bruce says. Concern and trepidation are familiar friends for Bruce - although a particular big blue Boy Scout might call it paranoia - the idea his youngest son might be enchanted inspires both in extreme measures. However, Tim and Jason appear more annoyed and salty rather than terrifyingly concerned for their younger brother’s peace of mind, so Bruce isn’t willing to jump to conclusions. 

At least not without all the evidence.

“Nah, you want to hear from us before dealing with his ass. Besides he keeps gettin’ pissed every time I mention his girlfriend.”

Tim leans back farther in his chair. “Might have something to do with you calling her a bitch. Or a liar. Or both.”

“Whatever,” grumbles Jason, grabbing another nacho. “He’s overly sensitive, and he’s not even here right now. And I got shit to do today, so either we’re doin’ this now, or you’re outta luck on a full sitrep.” Bruce knows from experience his second eldest will walk away if this goes on too long.

“Fine, I’ll question Damian later,” Bruce cedes.

Jason nods. “Cool. How’s the media fallout, Replacement?”

Tim massages his temples with a frazzled half-groan, half-choked sound. “Rabid and spiraling out of control. Did I ever say what a good idea it was to bring you back to life officially? I would be in literal hell right now if we didn’t.”

“Still don’t think it’s worth the galas. I’m not gala material.”

Raising an eyebrow in a distinctly Alfred-like manner, Tim says, “You made that perfectly clear after you spiked the punch at the charity gala two months ago, called Mrs. Mariano a “festering boil on the devil’s ass” and insinuated she stole money from sick children.” Bruce remembers that. Frankly, the insult was a little weak on Jason’s part.

Jason gasps, placing his hand against his chest. “Timmy, shame on you, you need to get your facts straight. I didn’t insinuate. I sent records of her emails proving she stole money from sick kids to the press and printed up copies to hand out.”

Tim gestures his hand with a flourish in Jason’s direction. “Do you see what kind of children you are raising, Bruce?” Although everyone silently agrees Jason did the right thing, Tim complained long and hard about how long it took to mop up the PR disaster.

“I didn’t teach him that,” Bruce says, defending himself.

He didn’t.

He taught Jason to be much sneakier. Subtlety was never his second son’s strongest area though. 

“No, you just taught me how to free fall off thirty-story buildings, hack into government agencies, disarm bombs, and emotional repression.” Jason unscrews the cap on the liter of diet coke and takes a long sip. “The paranoia and over-preparedness come from the trauma, which admittedly’s not all your fault, but pretty close.”

Bruce wants to rub his temple to relieve pressure but it won’t help, he knows it won’t help.

“And your innate need for drama and theatricality?” Tim asks.

Jason grins, “Well that’s just all me, Timmy-boy. Why bother doin’ anything if ya don’t do it with style.”

“Sure, style.” Tim scoffs with a patronizing smile. “The same style that implies day drinking’s a fine idea?”

This time Bruce does not refrain from bringing a hand to his face to massage to bridge of his nose. “Jason what’s in the bottle?”

An audible swallow follows a swish of liquid. “Nothing you can prove.”

A door on the dining room’s opposite side opens, pausing the conversation. Dick slinks in wearing bright neon workout clothes, his hair half done up in a messy bun.

He has the same hand-in-cookie-jar expression on his face as he did at eleven when he snuck three baby raccoons into the Cave and tried to keep them a secret. A feat lasting all of forty-three minutes before Alfred discovered them. “Heeeey Bruce, glad your back in one piece. Soooo, how’s space?”

“Dick…” Bruce sighs, staring at his son for a long moment, unimpressed. His headache pulsing in time to his heartbeat.  

His eldest son drops into a chair next to Jason, sprawling in the way only an acrobat trained from birth could. “In my defense, we were left unsupervised.”

“You’re thirty-two.”

Dick shakes his hand in a so-so manner as if his current state of adulthood is a mutable factor. “I mean by an adultier-adult, one who actually knows what they’re doing. Not me.”

Bruce shakes his head, not wanting to touch that statement. “I don’t mind the bonding, but you all have an entire estate to use however you want, a transporter that takes you anywhere on earth in the basement, and access to a private jet. Why on Earth did you pick an IKEA forty-five minutes outside of the city?”

Dick halfheartedly shrugs, sinking lower in the chair. “Seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Bruce pins Tim and Jason with a questioning stare. “And you two?”

Jason grins, holding up his liter bottle of what Bruce is one-hundred percent certain is some kind of alcohol. “I live for the chaos.” He knocks back the liter bottle again, holding onto the neck for dear life. Oh great, if even his most chaotic child – arguably – needs a drink to fortify himself for the conversation ahead, Bruce holds no hope for his headache receding anytime soon.

“My complaints were ignored. I was forced to participate against my will,” Tim complains, wrinkling his nose with a hint of annoyance. Messy, greased hair falls over his eyes, while his head rests on top of an empty tumbler cup. Blue eyes drooping heavily. After this conversation, Bruce needs to manhandle Tim into bed so he can pass out.

“And Damian?” Bruce asks.

All three freeze stockstill at the mention of the group’s fourth missing member. Bruce didn’t think his headache could grow stronger.

It could.

At this rate, it will turn into a full-blown migraine, and then he doesn’t care whether Alfred wants him out of bed and acting like a functioning adult and father. He plans to head straight back to sleep. 

He takes a breath and plunges ahead into the fray. 

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[cryptidheights]

in the words of john mulaney, ice tea

(a magnus archives crackfic)

this. happened. i was having a flask of ice tea at work and this popped into my head. this is a lot of tim screaming dramatically, melanie being annoyed, and martin being a king. we are ignoring canon because this fic is primarily about how the magnus archives is an office comedy and here it is treated as such. they all work at the archives. elias is nowhere to be seen. jon has eye powers but is not in pain. it is used for comedy only. tim is happy. we are laughing. things are good.

________

“What the fuck, man.” 

Tim places his hands on the back of Melanie’s chair and spins. She’s already flipping him off by the time they’re face to face. 

“Leave me alone, Tim, heaven knows you have bigger things to worry about–Tim, are you high?”

“Your tea is cold,” Tim continues unperturbed, pupils dilated, “on purpose. I can see the frost.” 

“You’re high at work,” Melanie counters, “and I was just trying to see what the Americans were on about. It’s suffocating down here anyway. You wear those stupid Hawaiian shirts, I drink iced tea.” 

“There are some things better left undiscovered, oh, wait till I tell Martin–” 

“Don’t tell Martin, this is so stupid, Tim–”

“MARTIN!” 

“Tim, what the hell–” 

But Tim has already snatched the flask of tea off Melanie’s desk and is halfway down the hall, hollering for Martin. Melanie catches up with him just as he kicks in the door of Martin’s office. 

Martin knocks his chair over. “Tim! What’s the matter?” 

Tim shoves the flask under Martin’s nose. “Melanie,” he gasps, out of breath, “was drinking iced tea.” 

Martin blinks. 

“It’s heresy,” Tim continues. 

Silently, Martin takes the flask and unscrews the lid, glancing at Melanie for permission. She throws up her hands. 

“You’re insane,” Tim whispers theatrically in Melanie’s direction. 

Martin takes a sip. He takes another. “Blackberry tea in this?” 

“Yeah. PG Tips, too.” Melanie looks like she is desperately keeping her fingers from Tim’s throat. 

Martin grins. “It’s good.” 

“WHAT??” 

“A little sweet for me, but really delicious,” continues Martin serenely. “Good mix, Melanie.” 

“Thank you.” One of Melanie’s rare smiles skirts the corners of her mouth. 

Tim has both palms shoved against his eyes. “I want to erase this horrendous tragedy,” he says, voice muffled. 

“Go take a nap, Tim.” Martin reaches out and pats Tim’s arm. “Go on.” 

“Okay.” Palms still pressing grooves into his eyelids, Tim shuffles out. There is the sound of an office chair creaking in Tim’s office a couple doors down and a blood-and-thunder sigh. Then soft snoring. 

Martin bursts into laughter, smile stretching from ear to ear. “He’s something when he’s high, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Melanie is grinning now. Martin’s laugh has that effect on people. “He’s damn annoying. But also pretty funny.” 

Jon sticks his head in as Martin takes off his glasses to wipe his eyes. His hair is pulled back in a bun so messy he looks a little like he has spider legs sticking out around his face. The “Mum Life” mug in his hands (“because he’s got eyes in the back of his head,” Tim had giggled at the office Christmas party to a round of groans) has five soggy tea bags draped inside it.

“Was someone screaming?” 

“Tim’s high,” Melanie and Martin chorus. Jon rolls his eyes. 

“Can someone tell Basira to look for his stash again, please? This is becoming a problem.” 

“She won’t be happy.” 

“She will if it stops Tim from causing office drama. He was singing carols in her office yesterday at three in the afternoon. I think if I hadn’t walked by she’d have shot him.” 

“I’ll ask,” Martin says, and gets a gentle smile from Jon.

“Thank you.” 

“Did you get that statement recorded?” 

“No.” Jon leans against the doorframe, looking exhausted as usual. “Tim swapped it out when I stepped out for tea an hour ago. It was total gibberish. What even is a ligma?” 

Melanie suddenly gets very still. Martin chokes. 

“You–he–Jon, it’s nothing–” 

“I definitely have no idea–” 

Jon heaves a huge sigh. “Another sex joke, then?” 

Martin is two shades redder than he had been five seconds ago. Melanie manages to choke out a “yup”. Jon ages another three years. 

“I should have known.” He shakes his mug in the general direction of the kitchen. “Don’t know why I even assume it’s anything else, now…” 

Melanie releases the biggest wheezing laugh Martin has ever heard from her when Jon disappears around the corner. 

“That’s even worse than when Jon asked what a dab was.” 

“Basira,” Martin begins, already on the phone, “Yeah, hi, sorry, it’s about Tim’s stash again–” 

“NOBODY TOUCH MY OFFICE,” hollers Tim from down the way, suddenly awake, and Martin can hear Jon groan, overstimulated. When Jon shuffles back by Martin’s office (was he still wearing house slippers? Did Jon sleep in the Archive?), he has a set dead look in his eyes. 

“If the weed isn’t gone, I will start an apocalypse,” he drones, “also, I took another one of your teabags, hope that’s all right.” 

“Course it is. Let me know if you need more.” 

“Make sure to take Melanie with you if you go to the shop,” Jon calls over his shoulder, penguin-shuffling his way down the hall. “So she doesn’t kill Tim either.” 

“What makes you think I’ll kill Tim?” 

“He just stole the dates from your desk.” 

[watchtowerindistress]

we are not our demons (12/24) - bruce wayne x batmom

Gif source: oscarspoe

Author’s note: A special guest star is appearing in this chapter. I really hope you don't think I stole Oliver Queen's tic and gave it to Bruce and Damian, I seriously didn't think that. My thought process was that over the years Damian copied his father's shtick during missions and they both rub their fingers together to stimulate their minds before a fight.

Update break after this chapter. I’ll see you in two weeks again. [Read more at the end.]

Beta-read by Heidi.

Words: 5.3k

Warning: language

Please reblog/leave a comment.

Series Masterlist | Want to be tagged? | Read on AO3

Hand on the Bible (Lord, have mercy)

I think you’re the love of my life (yo)

Baby, could you hop on a flight to find me?

-FAR AWAY by Jessie Reyez-

The sizzling noise of batter hitting the frying pan and the smell of pancakes filling the air felt like a wonderful way to start the day, Ellie surmised to herself. The heavy raindrops hitting the windowpane was just the perfect reason for some pick-me-up.

Behind her, she could sense Alfred moving around, preparing coffee for the grown-ups in this household to enjoy.

Curiosity took hold of her when something crossed her mind. “Alfred, you think Babs is going to join us for breakfast?” Hesitance was shining in Ellie’s eyes when she glanced at Alfred who was wearing his trademark apron as long as he was working in the kitchen.

A heavy sigh left Alfred’s lips at the expected question. “I don’t think so.”

Now Ellie was getting deeply concerned for her friend. “Has she even left her room since she got here? You know, just to get some fresh air or a different scenery than the same four walls?”

Alfred pursed his lips, like he was as conflicted as she was. “As much as I agree with your views, Miss Ellie, perhaps we need to give her more time to come to terms with everything. Trust me, we’ll look after her,” the older man assured her warmly and surprised her by letting his hand brush her shoulder in comfort.

Involuntarily, her lips formed into a small but appreciative smile at Alfred’s display of affection. “Thanks, Alfred,” Ellie whispered in gratitude and sent him a soft glance.

The echo of a humming sound from the hallway prompted Ellie to pull out of Alfred’s embrace.

“What smells so good?” Dick’s voice called out in curiosity when he wandered into the kitchen. His hands were sitting on his waist, enticing the attention to the detective badge stuck on the belt loops of his dark-blue jeans.

“Pancakes, Master Dick,” Alfred offered and just in time to place a fresh and warm breakfast treat on a large plate.

“Help yourself.” Ellie nodded towards the small pile of pancakes.

Ellie merely arched her eyebrows at seeing Dick dump a diabetes-like coating of maple syrup on his two flapjacks.

“Coffee?” Alfred asked, lifting a full coffee pot in the air, and without missing a beat, poured the black liquid into an empty mug on the kitchen island.

“Thanks, Al,” Dick said and instantly took a sip from the energizing drink.

While hot liquid flowed down his throat, Ellie mentioned, “Black coffee, huh? Why do I get the impression that you and your father are almost the same person?”

Dick mockingly pursed his lips in thought. “Moi?” His hand covered his chest, almost in an insulted way. “Bugs me. Speaking of the less-handsome devil, where is Bruce?”

“He had to get to Wayne Enterprises early to talk to Fox about the toxins used by the clowns for experimentation,” Ellie explained with a muffled voice.

Dick sighed and took a healthy bite from his breakfast. “Yeah, I heard about that at the station. Damn assholes.”

“Why is Dick allowed to curse around here, and I get instantly reprimanded?” Damian inquired with an indignant voice while he and Tim descended from the stairs.

“That rule applies to everyone, Master Damian.” Alfred glanced at the youngest child briefly before sending a dark glower in Dick’s direction.

“Good morning, guys,” Ellie greeted both children. “You up for some pancakes?”

Tim mumbled, “G’ morning,” under his breath while Damian chose to only nod in acknowledgment.

There was a certain bounce in Tim’s steps when he made himself comfortable on one of the bar stools next to Dick and nodded in pleased consent.

His eyes were shining with excitement when he helped himself to a small pancake and dropped several types of fruit on top of it, including blueberries and sliced apples.

Ellie poured herself a cup of coffee with some milk and two spoonful of sugar and leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter while Alfred turned off the heat from the stove. Fondness lit up in her eyes when they gazed upon Damian taking a tentative sip from his refreshing mug of cocoa before trying some cut-up strawberries.

“And here I thought you weren’t a breakfast person, Damian.”

With his mouth half-full, Dick answered with his head thrown back, “Dami likes to sample or rather let others try it out first. Like he’s some sort of paranoid king.”

Damian didn’t dignify his words with a tilt of his head. “Don’t call me that,” he merely said, hinting at the chosen nickname.

“Dami, come on, look—” An obscene amount of pastry was crammed into his mouth to prove his point before eating noisily while talking, “— nom nom nom, so good.”

Dick’s antics elicited the same physical reaction Damian and Ellie were displaying. Damian furrowed his brows. “You’re disgusting.”

“Please, Master Dick, have I taught you nothing?” Alfred admonished quietly.

Dick gulped down his food contents. “Sorry, Al.” Ellie felt his gaze settle on her in question. “You ready to go?”

With a nod displaying her agreement, Ellie replied, “Sure am,” and poured the rest of the lukewarm coffee down her throat with a satisfied moan. “Okay, let’s go.” Twirling her finger in the air, Ellie was ready to go to work and placed her mug in the sink.

“Be good, boys,” Ellie called out with a small wave when her body was already moving away. Quiet murmurs brushed against her back as a goodbye.

“So, how long have you been a cop?”

The rain was still falling relentlessly while Dick was driving her on his way to work. He narrowed his eyes in the driver’s seat and stared at Ellie with speculative scrutiny. “Do I detect a certain undertone there?”

“Oh no, it totally suits you.”

After shaking his head in jest, Dick chuckled to himself. “It’s been a long time since I received a backhanded compliment,” he mused under his breath. “And I’ve been a detective for four years, most of that time I spent in Blüdhaven.”

Ellie remembered him telling her that. Not to mention, how Bruce once told her that his son used to visit from Blüdhaven.

“Oh wow, tough place to be a cop in.”

Dick sent Ellie another inquisitive glance. “Sounds about right. You ever been?” She could understand the young man’s curiosity. Ellie knew of the stereotypical status the crime-ridden city held and the way people spoke of it despite never having visited it to gain a personal perspective.

Ellie nodded once, as conflicted memories rang through her mind. “Lived there for … I don’t know, most of my childhood and youth when I lived under the roof of my aunt and uncle.”

Respect shone in his eyes when Dick’s eyebrows rose. “Gotcha,” he said.

The towering building of Wayne Enterprises would always invoke a humbling feeling in her body when Dick dropped her off in front of the square in Old Gotham before turning to his own police duties when he drove off.

It didn’t take long with her sitting at her desk and overseeing the network infrastructure before Bruce requested Ellie into his office.

Despite their nighttime activities—Jesus, weird phrasing—Bruce usually didn’t discuss their vigilante business at work. Unless there was some serious work incident she didn’t know about.

The heels of her ankle boots stomping on the marble floor beneath her gave her a strange bout of confidence as Ellie passed Atticus sitting behind his office desk.

While he was tending to a phone call, she only pointed towards the grand oak doors to Bruce’s sanctuary to which the executive assistant nodded his head in affirmation.

Ellie briefly knocked on the sturdy wood, merely to hear the deep voice of Bruce pierce through the door. “Come on in, Ellie.”

Following his invitation, she stepped inside to discover with tingling awe how his wide shoulders and back in a sharp gray suit were facing her. Bruce bent over his desk and examined several document sheets. The muscles in his back rippled with every single delicious movement. It actually rendered her speechless when she tugged on her bottom lip.

“You do know that you don’t have to knock, right?” Bruce sent her an open expression over his shoulder and gathered the rustling papers into a dossier.

Ellie shut the door behind her with a satisfying click before stepping further into the CEO’s office. Smiling briefly, the young woman shrugged her shoulders. “Just making sure I don’t disturb any … indecent undertakings.”

Bruce’s expression twisted to an uncomfortable aura when he furrowed his brows. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’d like to think that we do things differently here than at LuthorCorp.”

A worn-out sigh blew between her lips when she made herself comfortable on the couch by the high-ceiling windows.

Ellie smiled bitterly once a certain memory invaded her mind like a spider coiling around the inside of her head. “I wasn’t thinking about the Luthors actually.”

Bruce’s eyes hardened at Ellie’s mysterious words, but she had a feeling that he knew her file by memory and could guess which company she was talking about.

In her quest to shield her pride, Ellie put her tablet in her lap and cleared her throat. “So, what did you call me in for?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes before settling down next to Ellie, brushing the fabric of his suit away as he eased back on the couch.

“Just wanted to let you know what Fox found out.”

Ellie’s interest piqued at once when she stared at Bruce to display her true sentiments towards those findings. “What did he say? Are the kids safe?”

Bruce glanced at his surroundings to reveal a biting smile. “‘Safe’ is a broad term. Fox analyzed a strange chemical mix from the compound—his words, not mine. Something about stimulants and genetically modifying substances.”

A chill went through her body at the image Bruce vividly portrayed. Ellie couldn’t help but feel connected to those poor souls. Despite her own traumatic experience with Scarecrow and Professor Strange who pumped her with a highly concentrated phobia-triggering toxin, Ellie couldn’t envision what those kids had to endure and would have to face in the future.

“How high is the probability that we could be dealing with new kinds of meta-humans?”

“Very high. And an even greater danger that those kids could have died from the half-assed procedure.”

Ellie exhaled deeply at the sour reality Bruce was depicting and shook her head. “Damn clowns. What do you plan to do?”

With pursed lips, a deep furrow anchored between Bruce’s eyebrows when he sent a curious glance towards Ellie. “What makes you think I’ve got something planned?”

Ellie’s lips quirked into a teasing smile when she pointed with her finger to those brown orbs. “I know that glint in your eyes. It’s the same expression you had on your face right before you wanted to achieve your own Die Hard in an elevator.”

Bruce shook his head and effectively hid a small smirk.

“This morning, I sent over the legal documents to West Mercy that I would cover any hospital bills for the kids in the ICU.”

Despite her raised eyebrows to display her surprise, Ellie shouldn’t have been. “Healthcare in this government is a joke if you don’t have it,” she mused under her breath, with a small nod.

After she had heard the radio call about the transfer of more than dozens of children into intensive care, her curiosity had peaked. Just as she expected, all those primary locations where those kids were abducted were low-income communities. It still tore at her heart to find out that most of these children were orphans who needed a stable home more than an uncertain time in a hospital bed.

“No teasing words that I got more money to throw out the window than Ted Kord?”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I never said that’s a dreadful thing. If anything, you’re helping these victims. I won’t condemn you for wanting to help people. Anything else you want to tell me?”

Bruce’s eyes lingered on hers, as if he was silently looking for answers only she could give. Avoiding Ellie’s gaze at the last second, he shook his head with a bittersweet look. “No, that’s all.”

Torn between confusion and wanting to make a joke, Ellie replied, “Alright, thanks for the short update, I guess?”

Bruce smiled lightly. “Anytime.”

“I’ll see you at home?”

Nodding with slow movements, he said, “I’ll see you there.”

As her body moved towards the office door, Ellie could only think, “That was so damn weird.”

Ellie hated bringing her work home—and since when did she call Wayne Manor her home? —but desperate times called for desperate measures. Especially since Bruce’s unsaid words managed to successfully distract her from work. She usually would’ve worked from the safety of her own room, but she wanted to intercept Bruce once he walked through the doors.

But once a few hours had passed, Ellie’s concern for him only rose. The scurrying form of Alfred passing behind the living room couch where she was sitting made her open her mouth. “Alfred, where’s Bruce?”

The butler tilted his head and kept the clean laundry basket in a tight grip under his arms. “Master Wayne didn’t tell you?”

Ellie raised her eyebrows in befuddlement once Alfred finally confirmed her suspicions. “Tell me what?”

Without giving her an answer, Alfred bent forward to turn on the TV with a click of the remote. The flat screen turned to life and revealed Bruce standing in front of a building, with cameras snapping in a blinding and staccato rhythm.

The headline ‘Bruce Wayne inducts renovated orphanage’ was visible at the bottom of the screen, with the small detail ‘named after Marion Grange, a close confidant of the Wayne family and former Mayor of Gotham’ underneath it.

Bruce appeared composed by the onslaught of media coverage and let a small, neutral smile thrive on his lips. These were one of those instances when Bruce’s cool-as-a-cucumber attitude in front of reporters truly astounded Ellie. How the entrepreneur could remain calm and collected in light of the media shoving cameras into his face, like it was no big feat at all. How he could render them speechless with just one look.

“—to the Marion Grange Orphanage. After the cowardly attack on Gotham’s children, the Wayne Foundation is more than willing to stand up for this young generation. We are not here to remind of this trauma, but instead I’d like us to be a unity. To support them as best as possible. Why not start by giving them a renovated home?”

Ellie breathed in deeply and felt her unfocused eyes gaze at Bruce’s bashful smile. She could sense the burning stare of Alfred’s lingering on the side of her face. Expecting some sort of reaction from the woman. No living person could stay this cold after hearing this billionaire willingly offering his money resources for the sake of the community. Rich entrepreneurs like Maxwell Lord, not included.

The brunette cleared her throat as soon as that thought unconsciously entered her head. All this time had passed, and that name still threw her off balance. “Bruce doesn’t waste any time, huh?”

Alfred supported the bottom of the laundry basket on the back of the couch. “That’s Master Bruce for you. If he wants something, he’s going to make sure he’s getting it.”

An amused smirk lifted one corner of Ellie’s mouth at the reminder of Bruce’s stubbornness. The memory of his job offers and how he sought her out, came forth.

“I figured.”

If anything, Alfred’s affirmation of his ward only revealed how Bruce and she were so much alike. At least regarding the things they believed in and felt passionate about. The cowardly assault on her best friend, Barbara, only made her realize the depths of her unconscious darkness inside her. And how far Ellie was willing to go to keep the people she loved safe.

Just as expected, catching the Joker proved to be an almost impossible accomplishment because of that undying and morbid loyalty of his entourage of killer clowns. It would work in their favor that Harley’s so-called allegiance was tenuous at best.

A sudden and unexpected thought hit her out of nowhere at the reminder of that psychotic psychiatrist.

“Something the matter, Miss Ellie?”

She cleared her throat at being roused from her contemplation. “How long do you think Bruce is going to be away for?”

“I’d reckon for the rest of the night. You know what a social butterfly he is—always making friends at those functions. Not to mention, I made him promise to mingle and not to come back until ten in the evening.”

A strained smile twitched at the corners of her lips once Alfred confirmed her assumptions before he wandered away to continue the laundry. The thought that reckless ideas only came during the night intensified.

The Arkham Asylum footage of Quinn’s breakout came to mind. Ellie narrowed her eyes as she strained her ears to the butler’s receding footsteps.

Harley had hesitated. It was all Ellie needed to be certain in her belief. That Harley would’ve gone with Ivy if given the chance.

With her resolve strengthening, Ellie stood up to turn off the TV with the push of the button. It was time to have a chat with Poison Ivy.

Famous last words.

The grass under Ellie’s shoes made soft-dewy sounds while she was walking down the path leading from the back of the manor. The strap of her backpack was a soothing anchor on her shoulder.

After pressing a few buttons on the keypad to access the CCTVs of Gotham City, Ellie was certain of Ivy’s location, the botanist’s trusted safe harbor of the Botanic Gardens, while bending over the Batcomputer in the cave. Just to be on the safe side, she filled her bag with some herbicide agent, a sonic cry gadget and her tablet.

To be honest, it kind of baffled Ellie that Bruce had some herbicide lying around. Just in case Poison Ivy would meddle too much into his vigilante work.

The long navy-blue overcoat that reached her knees was a nice comfort to ward off the strange fall/winter chilliness as Ellie pushed her lapels higher up her neck. Her thick-rimmed glasses fogged up from the brisk weather.

“Where are you going?”

The young voice carried mysteriously with the wind from behind. Strangely, the haunting effect was more startling than hearing the noise itself.

Ellie stopped in her tracks, covering her chest to slow her pounding heart. “Oh sheesh, wear a bell, why don’t you, huh?” Her body slowly turned around until she was facing the stoic-faced Damian. “Maybe I’m just going out for a walk,” Ellie defended herself and hoped that Damian wouldn’t question her backpack.

He crossed his arms over his chest, displaying his trademark stance. “And that’s why you took some herbicide with you? To obliterate some weed along the way?”

Ellie blinked profusely, trying to process Damian’s quick thinking.

“I was in the Batcave,” he explained. “I’m invisible if I want to be.”

Ellie rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Damn ninjas,” she grumbled under her breath.

Her glasses must have fooled her when she thought she saw the corners of Damian’s mouth twitch.

“You’re far more reckless than I thought you would be if you intend to face the green lady.”

“That’s why I’m just going to have a simple conversation.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Father won’t like this,” he admitted with a dark promise.

Oh God, was she proving to be a sort-of bad mother figure?

It was excruciating to even exhale the words from her mouth. “Well, I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

Ellie’s revelation made Damian raise an eyebrow before stating, “Alright, I guess I’m in the mood to vanquish some plants.”

She knew Damian would be perfectly capable of defending himself but the idea of the young boy getting hurt—even the notion of it—pressed a pounding migraine behind her eyelids. One occurring event of Damian having to endure a phobia-induced episode was enough in her eyes.

Ellie’s pained thoughts prompted her to turn her head to study the side of the boy’s face, wondering what had happened in his life to being forced to face this vigilante life.

Brown eyes were staring back at her. “What?”

Ellie shook her head, not knowing if she could find the words to say how sorry she truly felt. That she felt responsible that Strange hurt him and that she left them all.

“Nothing.”

Their walk after their train ride to Robinson Park remained quiet while dawn slowly set in and cloaked them in a protective shroud. It surprised Ellie how Damian’s presence took away this uneasy fear—at least most of it.

The wraith-like silhouettes of the greenhouse stood ominously among the leafless oak trees of the Botanic Gardens. Ellie clenched her hands into fists the closer they got to the looming glasshouse and felt her nervous beating heart pound in her head like a constant reminder.

Taking the tablet out of her backpack with a quiet whirr of the zipper, Ellie accessed the CCTV of their surroundings. “No hostiles so far,” she mumbled under her breath. “I wonder where Grundy is.”

“Oh please, everybody knows Solomon Grundy keeps to the West side of the Gardens.” Damian continued with shrugging shoulders after receiving a perplexed look from Ellie, “He likes stroking and talking to the enormous Venus flytraps Ivy set up there.”

Ellie arched her eyebrows. This seemed to be public knowledge among the vigilantes. “Good to know that Grundy’s just a big ol’ softie.”

A grunting sound left Damian’s mouth. If it were any other situation that didn’t involve a cloak and dagger operation, Ellie would have teased the usually deadpan kid. But for now, Ellie metaphorically patted herself on the back for magically creating a smile on his face—she would take what she could get.

“Do you mind?”

Damian squeezed past Ellie and entered the premises with a turn of the knob, taking on a defensive stance once he was inside. The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled over his head to shroud his identity. The material of the brown cord jacket he was wearing tensed under his straining muscles, as Damian was getting ready to fight some plants.

“Sure thing,” Ellie whispered at a moderate volume and hoped these words were able to reach him as she stood a few feet behind him.

They turned a corner and just as she expected, a Venus flytrap made twitching movements and hissing sounds. Right before it instinctively reared its hungry head to their direction, opening its mouth to spit a long-range attack.

“That’s just perfect,” Damian grumbled in dismay, tapping his index finger against his pant leg. An action that made Ellie narrow her eyes and invoke a feeling of déjà vu. “Stay behind me.”

Damian barely even uttered the words before he did a somersault and evaded the mutant hybrid’s seed bombs by making an enviable split in front of it. With a grunt, his arm held the plant back, choking the life out of it.

“Wait, Da—, no!” Her boots stomped on the floor as she scurried towards him. The flytrap made wheezing sounds, struggling for air. Ellie felt uncomfortable when it twisted its head towards her, despite the absence of eyes in general.

“I thought I told you to stand back,” he grunted with great exertion. Damian stood behind the hybrid plant, slowly suffocating it with his arm.

“We’re just going to have a conversation. I’m not really interested in torturing her pets.”

Damian’s eyes burned with dark malice. “You realize this thing can still spit, right?”

“I just need you to subdue it, not kill it.”

Ellie’s gaze wandered to where she imagined its eyes were. “Damian’s not going to harm you.” The boy’s answer was an indignant harrumph. “I just want to talk. Tell your … Ivy this is about Harley.”

The plant shuddered, like the connection to the botanist compelled it to, before slowly closing its mouth.

Ellie’s wide eyes met Damian’s. “Now, let go, please.”

Clenching his jaw, hesitance still ruled over his features. “Fine, but if that thing opens its mouth again, I’m hitting it.”

Sensing its freedom again, it unhurriedly turned its head at the challenge, finally meeting Damian. It was vibrating with a purring noise.

Disgust took over his face.

“Stay here, alright? I need some alone time.”

Confusion was apparent in his furrowed brows. “Oh, you’re actually serious.”

“I’m going to scream if I need you.” Ellie shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe you should follow Grundy’s example. Stroke it and talk to it.”

Damian huffed and faced his new nemesis with his arms folded and at least six feet between them. “Yeah, right.”

Ellie could feel his stare burn a hole at the back of her head with her descent down the stairs, trying to shake off the eerie feeling of being in the company of Poison Ivy’s hybrid plants sitting in every corner of her lair. Just thrumming with energy and unreleased pheromones. Simply standing back and watching Ellie with interest.

She tried to instill some courage by quietly talking to herself. “Okay, nothing freaky here. Everything’s a-okay.” She stretched her arms at her side with jerky movements.

While she was inspecting her surroundings, Ellie noticed how Ivy seemed to have dug deep under the greenhouse, restructuring the facility, and exposing the sewer system.

At the end of the drainage system, a tree monster with its head made of branches almost hit the ceiling of the corridor. Ellie’s nervous steps halted even more the closer she got to the unfamiliar branch creature. It made grumbling noises while sluggishly walking around, with every step it took, squeaking wood noises accompanied it. She felt like the guest of honor when it opened the gates on her left, intending for her to walk through.

“I guess that’s me then. Nothing weird about any of this.”

“Excuse my babies,” a sultry rich voice called out from the center of the basement.

Finally, Ellie caught sight of the woman’s red hair before her green skin did. Ivy leaves adorned her fiery head and revealed a path down her slender neck, arms, and legs. A form-fitting bodysuit revealed her long legs and ended over her hips. Up close, her upper body had a more ‘human’ tanned skin color as it progressed into a more luminous green. Inky-green veins on her jaw dispersed down her neck. Ivy’s face had a more shimmering light-green complexion, making her seem like a party girl who was just into green glitter.

Subconsciously, her feet stepped towards her, feeling fascinated by Ivy’s aura.

The red-haired woman tilted her head in enthrallment and let her eyes glint mysteriously. “If I had known I would get guests for tonight, I would have laid out the Christmas lights early.” Ivy’s red-varnished nail tapped against her jaw in speculation. “Especially if they look so delectable. Maybe litter this place with some cocoons. Make it nice and homey.”

Ellie shuddered at the thought of mummified victims lying around in every corner, depicting some haunted greenhouse instead.

“I’m not here for a date, Ivy. This is about Harley.”

Like a flipped switch, Ivy’s vibrant green eyes dimmed, giving off a serious disposition. Ivy’s naked feet padded on the floor to get closer to Ellie. She stayed rooted in place, not letting Ivy intimidate her but knowing what she was in for as soon as she would utter Harley’s name in Ivy’s presence.

“What about dear old Harley?” Her gravelly voice and stone-cold expression made her heart pound nervously in her chest. Ivy’s closeness let her body temperature rise and made Ellie realize how the botanist stood a head taller than her.

Okay, she was damn threatening if she intended to be.

“This is kinda about Harley. All I want is the Joker. What would you say to an arrangement, so I can deal with him for good?”

Ivy licked her lips and tilted her head to inspect her adversary better. Barely hidden interest was shining in her eyes. “What can I say? I wouldn’t invite him to my birthday party.”

“We have a common enemy. I want the Joker … gone.”

A bored expression took over her face. “What makes you think I’d want to help you?”

“You’re saying you lack motivation in getting a girlfriend away from her abuser?”

Ivy snorted while rolling her eyes. “You presume to know what I want, but you don’t, little girl.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes, trying to detect some cracks in her armor. “What I know is that Quinn revealed the slightest reluctance in escaping Arkham … and leaving her beloved green friend.” She coughed, feeling uncomfortable at the thought of insulting Ivy’s complexion. “I mean, you. Just in case Harley knows any other people with the same … nature-green skin.”

Ivy hummed under her breath, barely even fazed by Ellie’s words. Her eyes were focusing on a spot next to her head, lost in her own thoughts. “Is that so?”

“If it weren’t for a lunatic boyfriend knocking her unconscious, then yes. I’d say so.”

Ivy’s eyes stared at her again, dark intent was taking over. “What do you want exactly?”

“It’d be nice to have an ally, at least temporarily. Help me take him down. Keep your ears - or at least ivy twines - on the street and tell me where to find him.”

Ivy pursed her lips. “Getting Harls away from the Joker sounds perfect. But don’t get me wrong, cross me, and my beloved babies will strangle you to death.” Her fingers shaped into claws as they inched closer to her throat.

A strained smile tugged on Ellie’s lips. “Alright, duly noted.”

Ivy’s eyes reduced to slits. “What’s your name again?”

Ellie swallowed thickly, unsure if she should reveal her real name at last. “Rhodes,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

Ivy smirked. “Rhodes,” she tasted the name on her lips with a sensual voice. It was strange hearing her pronounce her last name like it was a delicious dessert. “You may call me Ivy.”

A humming noise left her when she nodded her head in consent. Her brown eyes found Ivy’s gaze lingering on her lips. As much as Ellie felt flattered, she didn’t want to take the risk of her poison kiss.

“You’re not going to kiss me, are you?” Ellie asked anxiously, biting her lip with hesitation.

Ivy smirked crookedly, meeting her lips with fire shining in her eyes. “If you want me to. I wouldn’t say no, Rhodes. I mean, why not go all in to seal our arrangement, you know?” Ivy arched an eyebrow and let her breath ghost over her cheeks.

“Now, don’t get any ideas, Ivy.”

Hooded green eyes were gazing with deep longing at her mouth and purring vibrations reverberated from deep within her chest. “Pity.”

Mild concern disclosed in her furrowed eyebrows and folded arms. “What is your fascination with the Joker? He killed your dog for sport, or something?”

Ellie debated with herself on how much she could or should reveal. “That bastard mutilated a friend. I don’t take kindly to people disabling my family.”

Understanding shone in Ivy’s eyes when she nodded slowly. “He’s all yours. But for now, you should hit the night scene of Gotham. Maybe try Penguin’s club in town. Tomorrow night. I hear he has a deal going down. Keeps Harls close.” Her arms stretched at her side. “Let’s keep in touch, why don’t we?”

Smiling fondly, Ivy cocked a hip and made a humming noise. She lifted a hand, waving sultrily goodbye in a silent answer.

A/N: Just so you know, when I teased Maxwell Lord in We are not our masks, I had no idea he was going to be in Wonder Woman: 1984. You could say I'm not sticking to that universe. 

Ivy's 'look' was inspired by a mix of the Arkhamverse and the game DC Universe Online. To be honest, I reaaaaalllllly loved writing the scene with Ivy and Ellie. Such a great, fascinating dynamic they both have.

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath​ @ravenmoore14​ @alwayshave-faith​ @ikranfuad​ @daydreaming-gemini​ @bluegalaxyprime​ @liadamerondjarin​ @steph21369 @andrewswifes-blog​  @yanna-banana

[artxyra]

Since When Did Damian Get A Girlfriend, Let Alone A Fiancée?

Damian never pictured himself being the type of guy to walk along the Seine with his beloved at three o’clock in the morning on a Saturday. A lot of people would laugh at the thought of Gotham’s Ice Prince doing something so romantically frivolous. Yet, love can change a person for the better or worse.

He had met his beloved through a pen pal program that his school had offered for those in the foreign language program. Grayson had signed him up for the program against his brother’s wishes. All done under the impression that this will help the young Wayne with socializing.

Damian didn’t realize that he would meet his match at the age of twelve. Their relationship started off rocky at best. He didn’t want anything to do with the program, so he tried everything possible to get her to change penpals. Unbeknown to him, she was able to match his harshness with her drive to make him laugh.

Over time their relationship slowly transpires into something more.

He was there when she was massively crushing on the person she now views as a baby-older brother. Then kept her sane when her college (middle school) years turn for the worse. She was there to listen and respect his choice, unlike some people he knows. His beloved knew just how to walk him through moments he was genuinely unsure how to handle, such as Christmas presents and panic attacks.  

And now, she means the world to him. Her smile, her laugh, her determination are all things that he loves of her. So if it meant walking along the Seine after a long night of patrol, then so be it. He’ll do it for the rest of his life.

But why did it feel like he was forgetting something?

~☾★☽~

The call goes to voicemail--once again.

“Hey Baby bird, where are you? Game night is about to start, and your check-in time was thirty minutes ago.” A worrisome Dick Grayson speaks into the phone as he leans against the doorframe. Behind him, his wife, Kor’i holding their little girl, Mar’i, who was trying to sway her way out of her mother’s strong arms.

“You still can’t reach him?” It didn’t sound like a question but more of a statement. Kor’i sets Mar’i down on the floor, allowing her to run off to join the rest of the family.

Dick sighs as Bruce walks in with Mar’i clutching onto his leg, squealing in delight. A joyful moment between grandfather and grandchild. Dick couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Isn’t past her bedtime?” Bruce proposes, picking up Mar’i from his leg, causing the small girl to pout and softly glare at her grandfather.

Kor’i laughs and takes Mar’i from him, and begins to snuggle her daughter. Dick rubs the back of his neck and looks everywhere but at Bruce.

“Eh, it’s game night, so we thought why not.” He answers as Tim staggers into the room with a coffee mug filled to the brim in hand.

“Tim, we talked about this. No coffee after eight o’clock.” Tim could barely comprehend whether it was Dick or Bruce scolding him. It was probably Dick. He grunts and sips the beverage longer than he intended to. It didn’t put a dent in the amount remaining in the mug.

“Has the brat shown up, yet?” Jason asks as he walks into the room tossing his knife up and catching it continuously.

“Hm, where is Damian? He’s usually the one that is strict when it comes to punctuality.” Bruce looks up. He finally takes notice that the core of his children (adopted or not) is here but the one related to him.

“Did you call his phone, I’m sure the kid is somewhere in the manor?” Jason says, throwing himself onto the couch. Alfred reprimands him for having his feet prompted over the armrest. Jason scowls but concedes to the man’s demands.

“If I thought he was in the manor, I would have gone to get him. And yes, I have called his phone, several times, in fact, but he’s not answering.” Dick huffs, crossing his arms. Kor’i pats on his back, calming him down slightly.

“If I may interrupt, Master Richard?” Alfred places a deck of cards down on the table and turns to Bruce. “If I were you, Master Bruce, I would check on the young master’s bank account. Lately, he has been making some purchases out of his norm.” Alfred waits patiently for the gears in Bruce’s head to turn.

After a beat of silence, Bruce immediately pulls out his phone. It didn’t take him long to access the accounts. Damian, despite being over twenty now, still has a sharing bank account with his dad.    

Pulling up the account bank transaction history, Bruce notices that a large sum has been withdrawn just under the maximum limit a few days ago. He then saw that the last major purchase; was from Damian’s own doing at a jewelry store.

A few months ago, Bruce had received a message about a purchase of an expensive item from the bank. The bank thought it was fraud despite knowing the family’s social standings.

Bruce decided he was going to be his own detective and went to the jewelry store. After going to the store and speaking with the salesperson, he concluded that Damian came in to pick up a customized diamond ring that had cost nearly 50,000 dollars before tax -- a purchase that was way out of Damian’s norm.

When Bruce returned home, he and Damian got into a heated argument causing him to bench Robin as a punishment. Damian complained but let it go the next day. Which in itself was odd considering how important being Robin was to his son.

“Uh…” Bruce couldn’t find the words to say what he thought next. How could he when there was no concrete explanation?

It was Tim who takes the phone from the man’s hand. His eyes widen at the amount that was missing. It wasn’t a noticeable amount compared to how much they make but damn, Damian.

“Who was the last to bug the kid’s phone?” Despite being on a caffeinated high, everyone is surprised to see Tim giving out a proper response to this mystery mess.

“That will be unnecessary, Master Tim.” Alfred digs into his jacket and pulls out a handful of decorated envelopes. Uh, how was he able to hide those?

He hands the envelopes to each of them. Everyone stands confused as to why Alfred, the most class of them all, would hand them upside-down envelopes.

“Pretty!” Mar’i squeals, trying to reach for the envelope. “Look, Daddy, it has Unca Dami’s name on it.” She points to the card.

It was then that those with envelopes flip it over and sees the words “Damian & Marinette Wayne” decorated in elegant letters.

“WHAT THE HEEE—HECK?” Jason is the first to scream what is on save for Alfred and Mar’i’s minds. They turn to him for different reasons. For Dick and Kor’i, it was for the near usage of a curse word while everyone else was shocked.

It turns out that Jason had open the envelope only to be greeted by an image of Damian holding a woman (who is perceived to be Marinette by her name from the envelope) underneath the Eiffel Tower. The words “You are invited to the wedding of Damian al Ghul Wayne and Marinette Dupain-Cheng” in bold cursive lettering. Underneath that is information regarding the times and location, along with RSVP details.

“Shall I go pack your finest clothes?” Alfred offers, clapping his hands together, acting like he didn’t just throw his charges underneath a moving bus.

And just like that, all thoughts of game-night went away.

It took a solid three minutes for them to get their brain to work. And immediately, the Wayne manor is filled with noises of all kinds. Much to Kori’s and Dick’s delight Mar’i didn’t learn a new swear word that night.

By the next day, the Wayne family finds themselves arriving in Paris, France. They were not there for a vacation, but on a search for the one person that can surprisingly hold a girlfriend now turned fiancée away from the family.

That information had slapped them so hard that Batman threatened that if anyone and he means anyone tries to commit a crime while he’s away, he was willing to let Red Hood go after them with no restrictions. Yep, Gotham’s intensive crimes went down real quick after that. Jason’s giddiness with his babies didn’t play a part in this.  

So, imagine the people of Paris seeing the one and only Bruce Wayne walking down the streets in the direction of Paris’ favorite bakery.

Being the main location tied to the Dupain-Cheng family name, it was a no-brainer that they decided to look for Damian there. When they reach the bakery, they were greeted by an unfamiliar sight. One that anyone that has met Damian would call bullshit on.

“Can I take—well shit.” Damian Wayne, himself, stands behind the register in colors that no one wouldn’t believe.

“Hey Little D, you wanna tell us why we’re just receiving a wedding invitation.” Dick asks, showing off the invitation.

Well, Damian had two options: (1) come clean and explain everything, or (2) call for Sabine or Tom to work the register so that he could run out here and drown himself in the Seine. Obviously, the second option is out the window. No one wants to deal with an angry Marinette or worse an upset Marinette.

It was a beat of silence.

They didn’t know what to say. Whether to ask calmly or scream into the nethers. For an emotionally stunt-complex family, this was the worst scenario.

That is until the soft sounds of footsteps.

“Hey, Dams,” Marinette turns the corner; she has yet to acknowledge their new guest. “I’ve finished the commission; do you need any help with the bakery? I hate to leave you alone if there is a rush especially since maman and papa are busy with deliveries. Then maybe later we can go over the wedding details.”

Marinette finally looks up.

She staggers in place. A cough escapes her lips.

She turns to her fiance and gives him a look. Damian rubs the back of his neck.

“And you must be the blushing bride. How did Demon spawn snag a literal ray of sunshine?” Jason questions, wondering how in the world did Damian manage to find this one when all the girls in Gotham are batting their eyelashes. Then again, they all thought Damian would follow in Bruce’s footsteps and be single for the rest of his life.

Taking a good critical look at Marinette, Jason finally decided that he’ll protect her at all cost and that Damian better not mess this up.

Marinette smiles at Jason’s word, repeatedly blinking she does tells a different story. Her mind slowly begins to put the pieces together. These people are going to be her extended family.

Damian wraps his arms around Marinette, “Don’t answer them, Habibti, they were just leaving.”

“No, no, his question caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you have guests. Though, it is nice to finally meet you all, I’m Marinette.” Marinette rests her head on Damian’s chest as she sends them a smile.

She is then greeted with an array of names. It felt nice, and she wondered why Damian kept her from his family.

Tim makes his way over to the coffee machine and pours himself a cup.

“So, how did you two meet?” Dick wonders what was on everyone’s minds, but compared to the others he had more dramatics.

“I swear, I will end you where you stand.” Damian growls out before proceeding to tell his family everything he believes they need to know.

Marinette pitched in whenever it was possible, knowing that Damian would omit details.

-----

A retouch version of Request #6. 

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - III

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Previously on…

Bruce was having yet another night without sleep. It happened often. And similar to the rest of the family, he just learned to function on very few hours of sleep.

So, he decided to make his way down to the kitchen.

But as he walked down the long hallway of bedrooms, he noticed that Y/N’s door was open. He glanced inside to see that it was empty and her bed was still neatly made from this morning. 

He looked down at this watch to see that it was almost 5AM.

A part of Bruce expected to find Y/N snacking or drinking coffee. But she wasn’t in the kitchen either.

Bruce sighed, realizing where she’d be and made his way down to the cave.

He expected to find Y/N with her eyes bloodshot and shoulders hunched over at the computers.

What he didn’t expect was to find Y/N passed out, slouched in the chair, knees in her chest and head balanced on the palm of her hand. How her elbow stayed propped up on the arm of the chair was beyond Bruce.

He smirked at the sight.

Perhaps she’d been spending too much time around the Wayne family. She was starting to adopt their bad habit of exhausting themselves.

Bruce knew she would be irritated if he moved her. But, honestly, he didn’t really care.

Carefully, Bruce slipped his arms behind her back – separating her from the chair – and then behind her knees, slowly lifting her into his arms.

Even though the movement was extremely smooth, Y/N still stirred.

“I was just taking a cat nap,” Y/N mumbled, but couldn’t even open her eyes to make the argument compelling. “I’m still working.”

“No, you’re not. Time to get some sleep.”

“Mmmm. Fine,” she slurred and tucked her head into his neck.

Bruce wasn’t sure if her mind even put together that it was him carrying her.

But he savored the closeness as he carried her out of the cave and up the stairs to the second floor of the manor.

When they got to her bedroom, Bruce put her down on the bed so softly, that she didn’t even feel it. Then he bent down to take off her shoes and unfolded the covers to tuck her in.

Just as Bruce reached the door.

Y/N woke up slightly and muttered, “Night, Bruce.”

His hand froze on the doorknob. It was so quiet that he wasn’t even sure if he had imagined it. But he couldn’t find the courage to turn and face her.

So he shut the door and let her sleep.

————

“Where’s Y/L/N?” Damian asked the table.

She usually ate breakfast with them.

“Still sleeping,” Bruce answered without looking up from the newspaper. “No one bother her today. She needs to rest,” that made him look up and give a warning look to Tim, Damian, and Dick.

Then Jason came stomping into the kitchen.

He grabbed a pastry and ate it standing up, getting crumbs all over the floor.

“Where’s ladylove?” He asked with his mouth so full that he looked like a chipmunk.

Bruce ignored him and looked back down at the paper.

But Dick frowned at him. “Don’t call her that.”

“What do you care?” Jason laughed.

Dick didn’t dignify the question with an answer. He just thrust his chair back and shoved Jason’s shoulder as he stormed past him.

“What’s his fucking deal?” Jason asked once he was out of ear shot.

“Watch your language,” Bruce warned with a glare from behind his paper.

Jason exhaled a laugh. “I’m not a kid. I also don’t live under your roof anymore.”

“And I consider that a gift,” Damian muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jason smacked the back of his head.

Damian flew out of his seat and lunged for him. “I will end you, Todd!”

“Maybe when you hit puberty, demon spawn.”

“Damian!” Bruce shouted to get his son’s attention. His son snapped to attention. But then Bruce’s tone was eerily calm when he continued with, “Control your anger.”

It was something they’d been working on since Damian arrived at the manor. Bruce guessed that Damian would always have a temper. But he needed to learn how to control it. Through time and practice, he got better.

Damian took in a deep breath, but still looked like he wanted to murder Jason.

“I will be training,” Damian announced through an irritated sigh before leaving.

Bruce glared at Jason. “Don’t push him.”

“He started it.”

“You claim you’re not a kid, so don’t act like one.”

“Speaking of kids…” Jason started with a smile.

Bruce swiftly stood up. “Don’t even try.”

Then he was gone as well, leaving just Jason and Tim.

“Well, it appears everyone is in a rather bad mood this morning,” Jason joked.

But there was no response from Tim.

“Are you sleeping with your eyes open?!?” Jason yelled.

That woke up Tim and he jumped. “Huh? What?”  

————

Y/N would’ve slept the whole day if she hadn’t smelled the coffee and breakfast.

She winced as she woke up to see if her mind was playing tricks on her.

But on top of her nightstand sat a beautiful, antique tray with a full American breakfast on it, a cup of water, a giant mug of coffee, and a little vase with a tiny flower in it – a single, pink peonie.

Y/N rubbed her eyes awake with a shy smile.

Alfred was way sneakier than she realized if he could bring in a full tray like this and not even wake her up. She must be far more exhausted than she originally thought.

But then a piece of paper caught her eye. A note.

Y/N reached for it.

In the neatest handwriting Y/N had ever seen, she read:

“Perhaps you should take the day to relax. I apologize for my behavior last night.”

Y/N snorted at the word ‘behavior.’ Everything he had done last night was passive. It was more of an energy and tension than actual behavior. But Y/N had to give him credit for being aware of it. He had annoyed her last night, especially when Dick somehow took the fall for her own actions regarding her own life.

She ate the food at a disturbingly fast rate, not realizing how starved she’d felt until taking the first bite.

She would definitely miss Alfred’s cooking when she finally left Wayne Manor… whenever the hell that would be.

Y/N hoped it was sooner rather than later.

‘No, you don’t. Liar.’ A voice said inside her head.

Once Y/N had finished eating at light speed, she threw on a pair of baggy jeans and a cropped sweatshirt. She grabbed her coffee and carried it through the hallway.

She heard typing coming from Bruce’s office. He hadn’t used the room since she starting stay at the manor. So, her curiosity got the best of her and she leaned into the doorframe.

Bruce was wearing a navy polo that fit tight on his toned body. He was behind the desk, typing on the computer with his brow folded in concentration.  

He immediately noticed her presence and looked up from his work.

“Hi,” she said shyly before she leaned her back into the doorframe and took a sip of coffee.

“Hi,” he smiled back.

“Thank you for the breakfast.”

Bruce leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “I can’t take credit for the actual cooking,” he admitted with a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” Then she looked around the study. “I was on my way to the cave when I heard you in here.”

Bruce frowned at that. “I thought you were going to take the day off.”

“I think you thought I was taking the day off.” Then she raised an eyebrow and glanced at all the work spread out on his desk. “Maybe you should take a break.”

“This is Wayne Enterprises, not my…nighttime…activities.”

Y/N shrugged and sipped more coffee. “Still work.”

Bruce rubbed his face. “Guess so.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Y/N walked into the room and didn’t break eye contact. “If you take the day off, so will I.”

She expected Bruce to immediately shoot down her offer.

But he was smirking as he considered her proposition.

“Deal,” he told her before standing up and walking out from behind the desk.

He got unnecessarily close, invading her space.

Bruce held out his hand.

Y/N grinned at the formal gesture, but shook his hand.

But when their hands gripped together, the gesture no longer felt formal. It felt intimate. Y/N’s grin fell when she acknowledged it.

“What did you have in mind?” Bruce asked. He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

If he felt the same intimacy as she had, he didn’t show it.

Y/N cleared her throat. “How about something simple? Maybe a walk?”

Bruce nodded slowly. “A walk sounds good.”  

“Well, then what are we waiting for?” Y/N sassed.

He shook his head and almost rolled his eyes before gesturing to the door, silently telling her to go first.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was getting an informal tour of the grounds at Wayne Manor from the owner himself.

Y/N listened closely, genuinely finding all the history interesting. Bruce was surprisingly a good storyteller – even if he was more informative than colorful.

“I know you had a hard childhood. But it still must’ve been nice growing up in a place like this,” Y/N tried to tell him.

“I suppose so.”

He glanced at Y/N and found her giving him an encouraging look, as if she was silently begging him to say more, to share more.

But he left it at that.

“Damian is rather fond of animals. That’s why we updated the old outbuilding. He keeps his horses there…amongst other things.”

Y/N chuckled and nodded, “He was telling me about Batcow the other day.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate me telling you this, but I think Damian has enjoyed having you around – all the boys have.”

Y/N hummed and turned to fully face Bruce. “And what about you? Have you enjoyed having me around?”

“Wayne Manor is the safest place for you right now.”

“That’s not what I asked, Bruce.”

But he already knew that.

Y/N waited. Because she wasn’t going to let him ignore her question.

“Dick has taken quite a liking to you,” Bruce said quietly.

“Don’t change the subject,” Y/N snapped.

He opened his mouth to continue, but she cut him off.

“We’re not talking about me and Dick. We’re talking about me and you.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Y/n took a step closer to him. “Why did you kiss me the other night?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Did you not want me to?”

“What does it matter?” Y/N sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I want to know what you’re thinking. I thought I put up walls. But you give me nothing, Bruce. Absolutely nothing. One second I think you see me as a nuisance, then the next you’re fucking kissing me.”

“You’re not a nuisance.”

“Oh, he speaks!” Y/N threw up her arms.  

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” He asked evenly.

Always calm and collected. Overly polite. Controlled. Closed off.

“Forget it,” Y/N breathed and started walking back to the manor.

But after she was a few yards away, she realized she wanted to say one last thing and turned back around.

“Not that it matters. But I did. I did want you to kiss me.”

“Then why did you run away?” Bruce asked.

“Because I knew you would do it eventually. And I was trying to protect myself.”

-

So much for a “day off.” When Y/N was upset, she turned to her work to take her mind off of things. Was it denial? Was it displacement? She didn’t like to dwell on it. And most of the time, there was no one in her life to call her out for it.

Y/N thought she was emotionally distant, but Bruce won that race by a landslide. And she found it infuriating.

It was interactions like the one she just had that made Y/N think everything Dick tried to tell her about how Bruce saw her was utter bullshit.

Y/N arrived to the cave with an energy she was definitely not expecting.

Damian and Dick were training on the lower level while Tim and Jason observed from the sides.

Y/N had seen footage of each of them fighting before. It was one of the research pieces she’d watched while investigating them before figuring out their identities. But seeing it in person was a completely different experience.

Dick was using his escrima sticks,  while Damian had his katana.

Jason noticed her arrival and made his way over with a smirk.

“Was wondering when you’d wake up,” he greeted.

“Please tell me that’s a sword for training and not an actual blade,” Y/N asked nervously while her eyes followed the two dancing around each other. She could even hear the blade slicing through the air.

“Don’t worry. They won’t seriously hurt each other.” He had a little side smirk. “Especially since Dick is Damian’s favorite.”

Y/N looked at Jason. “I always assumed Bruce was his favorite.”

He shrugged. “Dick’s been a father to Damian far more than Bruce ever has.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. It caught her by surprise a bit.

“Can you fight?” Jason asked her.

Her eyes widened. “No. I don’t know how to do…anything. I did one of those boxing workout classes. I hated it. All the instructors are male models, and that’s their side hustle.”

“I can assure you that was not boxing,” Jason laughed. “Why haven’t asked one of us?”  

Y/N shrugged. “Seems like a waste of your time.”

“No, it sounds like a fun time,” Jason corrected.

She laughed at that.

They both watched the two again.

A few moments went by before Y/N quietly added, “I have a gun. I don’t really know how to use it. But I thought it was necessary with my…line of work.”

Jason nodded slowly. “These pansies have a certain aversion to guns.” He looked down at her. “If you need me to show you a few basics, let me know.”

Y/N quickly looked at him. “T-Thank you.”

He laughed. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Jason Todd may have been labeled an anti-hero or even a criminal at one point. But deep down, he was still a Wayne. And even though he had the reputation of the bad boy, they all knew he was a sweetheart deep down. However, Y/N was now just seeing it.

Y/N jumped when Damian was slammed to the ground.

“Jesus,” she hissed.

“He’s fine,” Jason insisted.

But then he leaned closer and started pointing out certain moves to her. 

“With Dick’s gymnastics background, he incorporates a lot more acrobatics and moves that require more flexibility. He’s good at improvisation. He also leans more toward taekwondo. But with his escrima sticks, he also uses arnis.”

He looked down to make sure he wasn’t boring Y/N before he continued.

“He almost moves like a dancer,” she thought aloud, proving she was interested and engaged.

“Exactly,” he nodded. “Whereas Damian is still a kid. It’s less about power and more about agility. Before he got here, he was trained to kill. He’s mastered the sword better than any of us – but don’t tell him I said that. Damian’s had to adjust his technique and turn it non-lethal.” He smirked, “Just think devil ninja and that pretty much sums it up.”

Y/N laughed.

“And Tim?” She asked.

“Tim leans towards Kobudo, which is an ancient style developed by the Japanese. He prefers to use a battle staff. He’s smaller, so his technique is very calculated and controlled. Every move he makes counts for something. He’s extremely observant and can read his opponents like a book. Dick tries to create his openings, while Tim waits for the exact right moment.”

“Smart,” Y/N commented.

Jason nodded in agreement.

She turned back to him. “And you? What’s your style?”

“Brutal,” a voice said behind them.

Y/N whipped around to see Bruce standing behind them with his arms crossed. He’d changed, and was now wearing a tank top and sweatpants. Clearly he came down with the intention to train as well.

Jason didn’t seem surprised nor did he acknowledge him, meaning he probably knew the moment Bruce had arrived. He just didn’t care to notice him outwardly.

“Wing chun. Heavy-weight boxing. Krav Maga,” Bruce continued as if he was just listing of stats. “Angry…” he shrugged, “sometimes reckless.”

Jason scoffed at that.

“And he can’t seem to get over his complex for guns,” Bruce finished.

Jason turned to him. He was just an inch or so taller than Bruce. But he looked like he was twice the width and his muscles were somehow even bigger.

“Should we give her a show, B?” Jason offered with amusement.

“We’re not a spectacle, Jason.”

Jason looked down to Y/N. “Such a party pooper this one.”

She smirked at his sass. Bruce was not in her good graces right now, so she would support any and all mocking of him.

Y/N hadn’t even looked at Bruce since he arrived. And now she was choosing it as a perfect time to finally make her way to her computers and away from him.

Jason didn’t miss the cold shoulder. “What did you do to piss off yet another woman?”

Bruce glared at him, and walked down to the training area with the boys.

Jason followed after him. 

He looked back and forth between Bruce and up at Y/N, a plan developing in his head.

“$100 bucks Bruce can lay out Dick in two minutes,” Jason said loud enough that Y/N could hear him.

Tim and Damian shared a smirk.

Bruce and Dick glared at him.

“I’m not betting against that,” Damian announced.

Tim smiled. “But I will.”

Dick shook his head in submission, “Fine.”

Bruce needed the practice, even though he was aware Jason had ulterior motives with his request. So he just gave Dick a look of consent.

Y/N tried to ignore what was happening, even though Jason made it very clear for her. She heard the sound of fists and feet hitting skin. He heard their grunts of pain and exertion.

It wasn’t until she heard Dick torment Bruce with, “Come on, old man,” that Y/N couldn’t help but turn to watch them below the platform she worked on.

Dick’s teasing worked, but not in his favor.

Bruce no longer took it easy on him. Maybe that’s what Dick wanted, but he was now on the defense.

They were fighting hand to hand. No escrima sticks or gadgets. Just hand-to-hand combat.

Y/N could tell the that Dick was starting to get frustrated. 

Bruce, however, seemed completely calm. He knew all of the boys’ fighting styles and taught them the majority of what they knew. There was a part of Bruce in all of them. It almost made for an unfair fight. 

Their movements got faster and faster. Y/N was struggling to figure out what was even happening anymore.

But just when she was about to give up her observing and get back to work, Bruce managed to get a proper grip on Dick and flipped him over his shoulder.

Dick landed on his back hard. So hard, that Y/N heard the smack and the sound alone made her feel sick.

Y/N gasped, and put a hand in her mouth when the sound came out louder than she expected.

Jason, Tim, Damian, and even Dick glanced up at her.

But Bruce was staring down at his opponent.

“Your weight placement was off and you know how to get out of that hold,” Bruce lectured. “You know better.”

Dick glared up at him.

Bruce offered him a hand up, but Dick ignored it.

“I know,” Dick growled as he got to his feet.

“You’re letting yourself get frustrated. It’s causing your mistakes.”

“I said I know,” Dick snapped louder this time.

Before an argument could really start, Alfred made his presence known by clearing his throat.

All the boys looked up at him, as well. 

“What is it?” Bruce asked.

“I was rather certain you’d forgotten. Seems I was right.” Alfred cleared his throat. “I came to remind you all that the annual gala for the Martha Foundation is tomorrow night at the manor.”

“Can’t we reschedule it,” Damian whined.

Bruce shook his head. “The Court of Owls is made of Gotham’s elite – many of who are invited. If we cancel, it will cause suspicion.”

“You can’t honestly think we should risk that with Y/N being here,” Dick called out, gesturing up towards Y/N.

Bruce and Dick had a silent conversation.

Y/N knew it was about her, so she did not appreciate being excluded.

“Oh, wow. Looks like one of my safe houses is finally more secure than this place,” Y/N spoke up melodramatically.

But she should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy to escape.

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

Next chapter is gonna be fun, guys. 😈 But let me know what you thought of this one. 

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Lovestruck - fic

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, kinda Dick Pairings: future!jondami, implied-kinda?timkon, also timbernard Summary: Damian starts acting weird after Tim and Bernard begin dating. Turns out even this kid can be naive, and a total idiot, when he wants to be. A/N: idk a headcanon I couldn’t stop thinking about haha. Damian is absolutely one of those genius kids who don’t know the most basic things. Also if it’s not clear, Damian is comparing Tim’s answers to what he likes in people to if they match Conner. all ages are current canon so Tim is immortal and Damian is 14 mkay bye.

~~

When Tim started dating Bernard, he expected a lot of different things. He expected Bruce’s protectiveness, Dick’s softness, Jason’s gift of XL condoms, Cassandra’s date suggestions and even Stephanie’s own prepared shovel talks for his new paramour.

But he did not expect…well, this.

He did not expect to see Damian sitting on the front porch when Bernard brought him home from their third date. He did not expect Damian to start furiously writing in the notebook on his lap at the sight of them.

He did not expect to come down to breakfast and see the kitchen table scattered with notes and lists and images of way too pretty people, pictures of Bernard and Steph among them.

“…What are you doing?” Tim found himself asking sleepily.

“Research.” Damian replied simply, sipping thoughtfully from a mug on the island. “None of your concern.”

“Oh yeah?” Tim asked as he approached. Instantly he tapped the photos of Steph and Bernard. “So why are there pictures of my ex-girlfriend and current…boyfriend here?”

His stomach still did giddy jumps at the thought.

Damian’s lips twitched, like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Then he reached out and slid the photos underneath some papers. “Just…persons of interests.”

“For?”

“None of your concern.” Damian reiterated. Quickly, he began to shuffle all of his papers and pictures together. “Jeez, what does that Dowd boy even see in you…”

And then he was gone before Tim’s pre-caffeine mind could catch up.

After that, Damian was less obvious, but Tim could still catch on. In fact, everyone was catching on. But, like the emotionally constipated Bats they were, no one said anything, or tipped their youngest off.

They all just watched, as he suddenly began to distantly follow Tim around. Around the house, around the city, both as a civilian and in uniform. It was Cassandra who declared that Damian was watching who Tim was interacting with, not necessarily him.

He never followed him on his dates, though.

Then came the questions. Every time they were together. They’d go to lunch downtown near the office, and Damian would ask:

“Do you like that girl’s hair?”

“Would you ever wear those shoes?”

“How much do you respect a person if their suit jacket doesn’t fit them properly?”

When they’d be staking out a suspect on a building overlooking a street corner, he’d say:

“That belt is too gaudy.”

“You can tell he spent way too many hours in the mirror getting ready to go to that disgusting dive.”

“I can’t believe she’s walking on this street in those heels. Would you go for comfort or fashion?”

And it continued, the following, the seemingly random questions. After a while, Tim chalked it up to…maybe Damian was just getting to know him. Just trying to actually get along for once in their lives. They were both getting older, more mature. Maybe it was just time they started acting like what they were.

Brothers.

But then he came home one afternoon to find Dick standing in the manor’s foyer, back leaning against the wall that led into the central sitting room they all used. It was almost evening, which meant Damian was most likely in there sketching, or reading with his pets.

Dick noticed him open the door, and quickly put a finger to his smiling lips. Tim nodded and silently closed the door behind him, carefully took off his shoes and jacket, then tiptoed over to Dick.

He peeked around Dick’s shoulder. Sure enough, Damian was in there, but he was standing at the fireplace, staring down into the flames.

Jason sat in the loveseat behind him.

“Jay just got in there. He hasn’t said anything yet.” Dick breathed. Tim frowned skeptically. Surely Damian knew who was in the house. Knew there was something going on if Jason had just sought him out.

“What are we interrogating him for?” Tim whispered back. “Did he lose one of Alfred’s recipe books again?”

Dick just shook his head and pointed into the room. Tim looked back in.

Jason was relaxed in the chair, but staring intensely at his youngest brother. Damian must have known that, felt his eyes, because he wasn’t looking up. Kept his gaze glued to the fire at his feet.

Suddenly, Jason huffed, crossing his arms. “Spill.”

“Spill what.” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Spill why you’re stalking Tim.” Jason said bluntly. “Why you’re asking him all those dumbass questions.” A pause. “…Why you’re keeping tabs on his boyfriend.”

Tim inhaled sharply, glaring up at Dick. Dick waved both his arms quickly, implying that Jason’s words weren’t true, that it was just to catch Damian off guard.

“I’m not keeping tabs on him, Todd. That’s ridiculous.” Damian countered. “I’m merely making sure they’re still together.”

A moment to let the fire crackle.

“Well, I’m also making sure that boy isn’t hurting or manipulating Drake in some way.” Damian murmured softly. “But mostly, I’m just making sure they’re still together.”

Jason crossed his ankle over his knee. “Why?”

“What, I can’t be concerned for my brother’s safety and happiness?”

Jason snorted. “Not that brother’s.”

Damian glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. Then back to the fire.

Jason waited a minute, let his eyes dart across Damian’s back, study his posture. “…Why are you so concerned if Tim and his new boy-toy are still together?”

Damian shrugged silently.

“Don’t do that.” Jason scolded. “Use your words, Damian. Like a big boy.”

Damian let out a frustrated exhale. “I’m just…confirming Drake isn’t looking elsewhere.”

“What, to cheat on his boyfriend?” Jason drawled. “Timmy’s not the cheating type, I can tell.”

“No. No.” Damian said sternly. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying!” Damian threw his arms out. Let them fall back to his thighs with a slight smack. “…I’m saying I’ve seen him look at others the way he looks at Bernard Dowd and that is…concerning. …To me.”

“Others?” Jason questioned. “What others?”

“Like Conner Kent!” Damian finally spun around now. Jason’s eyebrows rose in surprise and Damian rolled his eyes again. “Oh don’t tell me you don’t see it. Those two have been flirting with each other since the damn day they met. Drake dating this boy now only confirms the possibility of their eventual coupling.”

Jason let his face settle back into neutral, let the words bounce around in his brain. “Okay…I guess I can agree with that.”

Tim glanced up at Dick, who gave him a wink. Tim’s face instantly went beet red.

“But that still tells me nothing.” Jason continued. “So Tim and Conner maybe had or have crushes on each other. Maybe they’re attracted to each other. Maybe they’re forever star-crossed and nothing will ever happen. So what? Why does that bother you?”

Damian kept his lips pressed firmly together. After a moment, he spun back towards the fire.

“…Damian?”

“…Because it would be weird.” Damian said at last. “It would be weird if he and Conner…”

Damian’s voice fell to an unintelligible mumble.

“What?” Jason asked gently. “I didn’t catch that.”

Damian mumbled again, still impossible to understand.

“Kid, you’re gonna have to speak up, okay. I can’t hear you-”

“I said it would be weird if he was dating Conner while I was dating Jon!” Damian yelled, whirling around once more. “And if he breaks up with Dowd and starts dating Conner before I can gain the courage to talk to Jon then I’ll lose my chance!”

His last words echoed in the space around them. Floated into the hallway and echoed up the stairs, too.

Not that anyone noticed. Tim had grabbed Dick’s bicep, while Dick had thrown a hand over his own mouth in surprise.

“Oh my god.” Tim whispered. “Oh my god, oh my god.”

“That…” Dick murmured. “That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Jason, luckily, had more composure than the two of them, and suddenly Tim realized why it was Jason doing the prodding, not Dick.

Jason’s eyes had just widened, no other movement than that. He remained still, remained calm, even as Damian’s face darkened, and embarrassed tears appeared in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh.” He said simply. “Oh, Damian.”

“Shut up.” Damian crossed his arms again, but they all knew this time it was to hold himself. “Don’t…don’t make fun of me.”

“Never.” Jason promised. “But also, not a thing you need to worry about.”

“Why, because Jon will turn me down anyway?” Damian whispered bitterly, turning away. Not towards the fire this time, just the window.

“He’d be an idiot to, and I’ll beat the shit out of him if he does.” Jason said as he uncrossed his legs and leaned his elbows on his knees. “No, I mean, you don’t need to worry about it because it wouldn’t be weird if y’all just so happened to be double-dating.”

Damian waited, then glanced back at Jason. “It wouldn’t?” Jason smiled and shook his head. “There isn’t like…I mean…a law…?” He inhaled slowly. “If Drake and Conner started dating, wouldn’t that make Jonathan and I…related?”

“That’s only if they got married, and even then, wouldn’t be weird.” Jason shrugged. “What, you’ve never heard those stories of like…twins marrying another set of twins? That shit happens all the time. You wouldn’t be the first.”

Damian blinked owlishly, let his hands fall back to his sides. “…Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Jason laughed, standing. “Besides, Tim seems to really like Blondie whats-his-name so…I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.” A second, to cheekily add: “At least…not right now.”

Damian twisted his lips. “I told you their chemistry was obvious.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, so is Bruce and Clark’s if you ask the tabloids and half the Justice League.” Jason droned, reaching out for Damian’s shoulder and tugging him into his side. “But like I said, don’t worry about it. Who cares about your idiot brother and who he’s dating, let’s focus more on you and how you’re gonna woo one Jonathan Kent, mmkay?”

He quickly ushered Damian out of the room using a door on the far side, only glancing back once to mouth oh my god! dramatically to the ones watching from the hall.

“That…” Tim exhaled as Jason closed the door behind them. “…was the most precious thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

Dick hummed in agreement, then: “…But is he right?”

Tim glanced up at him.

“You and Conner?”

Tim felt his face warm a little. “…I’m dating Bernard, Dick.”

“Okay.”

“And…I think I should go call him. We haven’t talked all day.”

Dick smirked. “Okay.”

“…Don’t look at me like that.”

Dick let out a chuckle. “Okay.”

“…Stop saying okay.”

“…Okay.”

“Dick!”

He laughed again. “Sorry, sorry.” He ran his fingers through Tim’s hair. “Tell Bernard I said hello, and also warn him that your younger brother is absolutely ready to gut him, should he hurt you.”

Oh yeah. Tim forgot that little tidbit. He felt his face warm even faster.

“Yeah…” He sighed, turning towards the stairs. He ignored the little flutter in his heart, at the idea of his lovesick, protective, ridiculous little brother. God, that kid. “Yeah, I think that’s probably something he oughta know.”