#anyway things were mostly good and i had red robin and we hadn’t seen each other in a while so that was good

[arthur-r]

back from dinner it was mostly good

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 28

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~~~

The pair sprinted out of the store, blonde in tow. It took about half a minute for Chloe to finally process everything going on, and another ten seconds for her to finally catch her footing enough for them to let go.

Marinette chanced a look back and cringed. A few people had stayed inside the store for various reasons but most were following after them, phones in hand. She pulled up her hood.

Dick glanced at both of them as they neared a crowded escalator. “Can you guys hop a railing?”

“Obviously,” said Marinette.

“... No? What the hell?” Chloe said.

Marinette and Dick gave each other a look before he groaned.

“Sorry for this.”

“For wha --?” The girl began but she, unfortunately, got her answer pretty quickly. He picked her up and held her to his chest, resting a hand over the back of her neck.

The two vigilantes gave each other a small nod before they jumped over the railing. Neither of them pointed out the fact that they both had perfect form, or that it was clearly an everyday thing for them. Because now more people were staring.

“Didn’t think this through, huh?” Chloe commented as she was let down.

“Shut up,” muttered Dick.

And then they were running again.

A quick look back at the crowd chasing them made her face pale. Fun! Now security thought they were thieves.

“Oh, come on, do you guys have to do your jobs?” She whined.

Ah, crap. They were losing Chloe. Dick was distracted, pulling out his wallet (for some reason) and hadn’t noticed.

Marinette bit her cheek. They could just leave her. A glance at the security footage would clear her name. It would be fi--.

She skidded to a stop and wheeled around. Damn it.

When Chloe got to her, she threw her over her shoulder and started up again. She raced to catch up with their third member, who was now dropping money on the floor.

She blinked a few times to process this, then shook her head and ran faster.

“The hell, Dick?” Chloe yelled as they stepped out into the sun.

“The less people chasing us the better! I can afford it!” He said.

They gave a pause at the edge of the parking lot. Their car was... well, they didn’t know.

“Random alley and hope we don’t get mugged?” Marinette offered.

“Yeah,” Dick said.

They passed off Chloe like a baton and then broke into a run again.

Five minutes later, they were panting in an alleyway. Marinette looked down to check her clothes weren’t originals before dropping onto her back and spreading out in the grime. Dick all but dropped the girl he was holding and leaned against a wall as he tried to catch his breath.

Chloe, who hadn’t run in a little while, was mostly just holding her probably bruised stomach (Marinette hadn’t taken time to make sure she was positioned properly on her shoulder).

“The PR team is gonna hate meeeeee,” complained Dick, who was sliding down the wall very slowly.

“You know...” Began Chloe, who seemed a bit hesitant to say anything.

“What?” Hissed Marinette, squeezing her eyes shut.

“You probably could have said that Mari was going to be future Wayne adoptee number 453542 and no one would have batted an eye.”

There was a short silence, then a string of very creative cursing from both of them.

After they had cursed enough to feel marginally better, Dick turned to Marinette. “Remember when I told you that you should let go of your anger?”

“Mhmm...”

“Not with her. Stay mad. She’s smarter than us. That’s not allowed.”

Chloe gave a short laugh and held out a hand to each of them to get up.

Marinette smiled and took it.

~

It took a week for her to be allowed on patrol again. This was good for her job, she was actually getting work done (she had even finished Adrien’s outfit!), but also dreadfully boring at times.

So, when she was finally told on the comms that she could come back, she was somewhat disappointed when Red Hood said that he was going to take the day to teach her sparring.

There was, unsurprisingly, a bit of an argument over this.

“Red Hood can’t mentor her! She already has less morals than us, we can’t just let him corrupt her!” Nightwing hissed.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

“I’m doing this to teach her to communicate her injuries. Would you like me not to do that?”

Batman sighed. “No, but maybe someone else would be better suited than you to --.”

“I’m better suited than all of you!”

“Why don’t we just go over and abduct Ladybug?” Chimed in Robin.

“Yeah, do your weird dad thing and track his credit card,” said Red Robin.

Batman sputtered for a response, then sighed. “I guess I could...”

“Suckers! I’m using cash!” Red Hood said, which was met with a string of cursing.

Marinette turned off her comm with a small roll of her eyes. “Tikki, spots on,” she muttered.

Only to scream.

Because the hands and feet of her costume weren’t appearing.

She stared at the glowing purple at her wrists and ankles. As she watched, it retreated up her arms very slightly. Her costume was disappearing before her eyes.

She swallowed thickly. What could she do? She couldn’t really switch miraculi. Ladybug was already well-known enough there to have a costume made of her. But, ethically, could she continue on like this, knowing how Tikki must be suffering? And even if she did, how? The purple was glowing. It would be hard to miss.

Marinette mulled this over for a bit before walking around her apartment. She picked up the pro-fighter gloves she’d stolen from the Waynes and a set of parkour shoes. At least they were black. She didn’t know what she’d do if her outfit didn’t even slightly match.

A few minutes after she’d pulled them on, Red Hood opened the door to her apartment.

She blinked. “Didn’t I lock that?”

“Yeah, I learned how to pick house locks while you were out,” he explained.

She gave a small frown but shrugged it off and pushed past him. He caught her hand and raised his eyebrows at her new look. Dang, she hadn’t even gotten out the door.

“What’s up with the new outfit?”

She shrugged casually and pulled her hand from his grip. “Honestly? I was getting tired of the plain outfit. Figured I’d start upgrading it over time.”

He looked a bit skeptical. She couldn’t blame him. The last time he’d seen her in this costume she’d been shot. She’d think that she was getting weaker, too.

And she was. But he didn’t need to know that.

Okay, so maybe Jason had had a point. So what?

They slipped out the window and started making their way across the rooftops.

“You’d tell me if there was anything wrong, right?” Red Hood said as he hopped another roof with ease.

She tipped her head to the side and considered this. It was the whole point of what they were doing, getting her to admit when she needed help. But she brushed this aside. She couldn’t get help for this. The only way to fix it was to give someone the cat miraculous.

And she didn’t know if she trusted Robin enough yet.

So she smiled and shook her head. “Honestly, you worry too much. Relax. I’m a designer, remember? Of course I’d want a more intricate outfit than plain spandex.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly and he nodded. “Good.”

She bit back her guilt. “Where are we going, anyways?”

“Private studio.”

She nodded and they continued on in silence. She always hated silence. It gave her way too much time to think. About the way she was getting weaker with every transformation. About how she was supposed to hide it. About whether it was right to do so.

Marinette was glad when they finally touched ground outside a dojo.

They stepped inside and the person at the front blinked a few times. “It’s really you,” he said.

Red Hood rolled his eyes. “Take a picture, it’d last longer.”

She swatted him over the back of the head when the attendant actually began to take out his phone. “You can take one afterwards, okay? We’d prefer not to be hounded right when we leave.”

The man nodded and sheepishly put his phone away. They were led into a private room not unlike the one the Waynes had (though, admittedly, far lower in budget).

Red Hood crossed his arms. “Right. Ground rules: we fight until one of us gives up, we have to give up when we’re in pain or completely pinned, and two taps on whatever you can reach is a give up.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why two taps?”

He gave a shrug. “It’s what Nightwing and Batman drilled into all of us. My guess is one could be an accident and three just feels excessive.”

Marinette nodded. Fair enough.

She could feel him watching while they stretched and groaned. “I’m fine. I barely even feel it anymore.”

“We can postpone if you need, I don’t care about the money.”

She rolled her eyes. “Relaaaaax.”

All he gave her was a stern look in return.

“Kwami, you’re beginning to look like Batman, scowling like that.”

He gasped. “You take that back!”

“Nope,” she grinned, pushing herself to her feet.

They both got into fighting positions.

They eyed each other warily as they circled each other. Marinette didn’t know Red Hood’s fighting style for close-combat, and Red Hood seemed to be considering his options.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she eyed him up and down. He was certainly strong, a quick glance showed that, but did he know how to use it? He had years of vigilante experience, surely he must know some hand-to-hand combat, right? Then again, he was only really known for using guns. Maybe she could beat him, maybe not. She didn’t want to underestimate him...

He lunged forward and she had to jump over him to dodge, using his back as a vault so she could land on her feet. He stumbled forwards a step and whipped around just in time to earn a kick in the stomach. To her surprise, though, he didn’t double over all that much, only giving a small wheeze at the blow. He must be used to hand-to-hand, then, if he could take a kick like that.

Damn.

They narrowed their eyes at each other.

He ran forward, hand coming up for a punch. She grinned and dodged the easy attack. He must be trying to figure out her style. She’d just have to make sure to stay inconsistent --.

His leg swiped under her and she cringed as she hit the ground with a dull thud, only just managing to roll out of the way when he came down after her.

A hand locked around her leg and she cursed, kicking up in a weak attempt to break his grip, but he held fast. With a quick twist she was forced onto her stomach to avoid messing up her ankle and she groaned as he leaned forward to press her head onto the mat. She wiggled around awkwardly underneath him, only to sigh when she realized she wasn’t getting out of it.

There was a beat.

She reluctantly tapped the ground twice.

His weight shifted off of her and she sent him a glare as she flipped onto her back.

He gave her a small smile, holding out a hand to help her up.

“You know, if I didn’t think Nightwing would infect you with his stupid morals, I’d let him train you. You have similar fighting styles. Very... jump-y.”

She scoffed and took his hand, allowing him to pull her up. “Fight with him often?”

“You have no idea,” he said with a slight grin. “Best two out of three?”

She nodded and brought her hands back up to her face.

After a little bit of fighting she’d managed to get a grasp on his fighting style. It seemed a mix of a bunch of different martial arts, but he seemed to put an emphasis on pins rather than genuinely painful attacks.

With this in mind, she was actually able to win some. He definitely won more than she did, he wasn’t going easy on her at all, but it was nice to not lose every time.

Red Hood handed her a water bottle and rested an arm around her shoulders as she drank it. “Same time next week?”

She grinned and wiped her mouth. “Don’t trust me to tap out all the time, yet?”

“You’re getting better,” he admitted, then ruffled her hair. “You’re finally tapping out at the moment you realize you’re not getting up, but I’d like you to start doing it while you’re being pinned instead of after.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“Fine, fine. I’ll... consider it.”

He sent her a halfhearted glare. She smiled cheekily and rested a hand over the doorknob. “Ready for the press?”

“Never am,” he muttered.

They both brought their widest smiles to their faces as they stepped out to greet the paparazzi.

~~~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace

<3

[chromatic-lamina]

rascal: law and robin brotp fanfic

I have a lot of brotp Law and Robin in my fics, and one fic with them as a couple. I like the brotp interaction. Two cynical and supportive friends, but the writing is mostly in my multi-chaptered works, which are dark or canon divergent or both.

Anyway, I’m going to include an excerpt below. Robin’s painting Law’s toenails while they both chat about current and past loss and love. It’s from a three-chapter work that I don’t think will make much sense without knowing the rest of the world that it comes from, but hopefully this interchange can be followed and strikes a chord with some. I know the LawBin fans are thirsty. Post canon with canon-verse history and elements. This is an older piece.

🐞

Law sat back in the garden recliner in Robin’s backyard, a book over his face. He wasn’t in danger of burning easily in the late morning sun, but had no intention of making himself prey to melanoma. Robin perched on the edge of the recliner, holding one of Law's feet.

He'd spent the night at Robin’s in anticipation of the tea-towel convention they'd be visiting today. She’d spent the night trying to share his enthusiasm as he sat, tattooed arms spread on the table, poring over catalogues. His inked hands pointed out designs featuring disproportionate tulip-ensconced windmills, and disembodied body parts that had less to do with Dali and more to do with morticians.

She assumed all the creators were outliers. Commemorative tea-towels hadn’t quite taken the art world by storm yet, but they did remind her a little of Ryuunosuke, the very cute but badly drawn dragon that had struggled and succeeded in taking them all to the top of Zou. 

That was last night though and now, soon, they’d head off to gossip and gander with the convention organisers, the Dishcloth Dames, once she’d made Law pretty.

“These are so cute.” She pulled at the few black gnarly hairs curled on Law’s left big toe.

“Freak,” Law mumbled, moving his foot.

Robin laughed, righted Law’s foot and wiped the brush over the nail of his big toe.

“When did you last clip these?”

“What’s it to you? You’re the one who wanted to dress me up.”

“You’re the one who’s letting me. You’ve got old man’s feet, by the way.”

Law arched his bridge and Robin slapped it, held it down.

“The sexy surgeon’s pedes don’t please? You said they were cute?”

She studied languages. She had no difficulty with Law’s fancy Latin terms.

“Mmm. I wouldn’t go that far. But I guess you got those tattoos to distract from your tootsies.”

The ink on the bridges of his feet matched that on the back of his hands. She felt the arc of the bone against her palm as she admired the designs, although it was one of the more simple ones to adorn Law and, historically, definitely not his favourite.

“And yet, there you are, making them all presentable and shit.”

“Does Marco like them?”

“He’s got his kinks.”

“And . . . ?”

“They remain in the bedroom,” Law grinned. At times he thought the Phoenix liked every part of his body, though they’d never had a deep conversation about those particular extremities.

“Ah, you’re no fun.”

“I’ve been told.”

Law felt her move to the next digit.

“What colour are you painting them?”

“Tch.”

As if it could be anything but black.

“Well, you sent Chopper out for the colour once,” Law said to her silence.

Bubble gum. Robin snickered, remembering. Law peered at her from under his book, her shoulders rose and fell with laughter. He liked that violet t-shirt.

.

Law seemed so disinterested, and therefore, Robin guessed very trusting, when she or anyone else painted his nails. He usually paid little attention to the colour, or even the action. It was something that pleased those who found it amusing to decorate him. Just so long as they let him read whatever he was researching, he indulged them. A small compromise for a larger gain.

No way in hell could someone he didn’t trust do this, though it had been done. Robin knew that trust was hard won. Law told himself that he let them all think he was vain this way so he could go for their jugulars some other time. Plus, he liked giving the Dishcloth Dames even more to gossip about.

.

Thinking of Chopper, Law laughed as if the sound was rationed—a clipped exhalation. The tanuki reminded him of his navigator.

“Bepo. Lord, Bepo got it into his head once to paint me. Maybe he wanted to practice so he could surprise some lucky Mink in the future, and who better to be his chump than his ferocious captain?”

Robin turned to him for a second, curious, before proceeding to the next toe. Her extra hands manipulated Law’s foot for the best access. Law’s own hand kept the book in place. She liked that silver band he sometimes wore on his wrist—a solid link—a flash of sky reflected in the metal.

“His fine motor skills aren’t the best. You’ve seen his maps. Shachi and Penguin thought I’d amputated my own toes without the benefit of a Room.” A rumble lifted Law's chest and then dissolved. He smiled easily. The book didn’t cover all of his face.  “He even dabbed a paw print on my heel.”

“He chose red?” She loved that flash of teeth.

“Mmm. So. I guess it’s black?”

Robin finished the last toenail and told him not to move his feet about for a while. She then drew up the recliner next to his, lay on it, leant on her side and looked across. Law could be asleep for all she knew.

.

“Oi, talk to me endling. Of course it’s black.”

Law’s lips twitched. Only Robin could get away with that.

“So needy, terminarch. How am I meant to do that without moving?”

They may as well have just called each other Flevance and Ohara. They did at times, but neither could be feeling too off-colour when they did, or the devil fruits would come out to play. The town names as nomenclatures were off-limits to anyone else.

“Take that book off your face at least. I know you can’t read it like that.”

“Your makeup bag’s not nearby, is it?”

“Just the toes today, Dr. Death.”

Good. He was only happy for modification to go so far. He sighed, grumbled, but lifted a hand and picked the book up by its spine, and rested it—still spreadeagled—on his chest. He blinked into the sun, then tipped his head her way. Not the most comfortable of positions.

“Can I sit up?”

The grey of Law’s irises were sometimes shot through with gold. She wondered what his parents had looked like. “Give it a few.”

He turned his face skyward again, his arm over his shut lids.

.

“How about Luffy?” she asked. Luffy was before island living, before Law’s casual feet days. If they’d ever played around with nail polish, she’d never seen the results.

Law groaned.

“He approached my nails as if they were made of seastone, his hand was that shaky.” The softness in tone betrayed the annoyance in his words. “For some reason he thought a pearly pink would suit? Maybe it reminded him of marbled steak or something? Of course, he had absolutely no patience.”

Law scratched at his sideburns with his spare hand.

“He slapped it on, forgot to cap the varnish, jumped on me, bringing the sheet with him, or whatever we were lying on, wherever we were. It smeared over everything; our clothes, or more accurately, my clothes. You know, Luffy somehow always escapes his own chaos—and then he declared the whole thing stupid and boring, as if I’d dreamt up the activity and forced it on him.” Incredulity hissed through the back of his teeth.

He tapped his earrings. "Somehow the polish even managed to get on these. Nami-ya probably talked him into the whole thing for a bet."

“And you let him?”

Law didn’t need to look at Robin to know her expression; amused and bemused.

“You choose your battles.”

“Mmm.” Her captain could be quite domineering. She wondered if they were the same earrings. It wouldn’t surprise her. She’d kept the same jewellery over the years, but added to her collection with each pirates' haul. The ones that Luffy didn’t somehow swap for food.

.

She sat up and twisted her neck. They needed to get going soon.

“Phoenix?”

“Still trying to unearth his kinks?”

“Now that you bring it up.”

Law’s smile, the one Robin and only a few others ever saw, made her lips curve.

“I paint for him at times. I mean, my own nails. He’s got a lapis grounding stone, and his flames are blue when he’s in Zoan form. I try to match those shades—a balance between the two. Other times, I paint for myself.”

“Does he notice?” Marco had a grounding stone? But then again, they all had their talismans.

“Sometimes.”

“You don’t tell him?”

“Not always. Other things are more pressing.”

“Does he know you’re a freak?”

“I thought that was you.”

.

Law paused for a second. He tipped his face Robin's way again, his hand still protecting his eyes. How come she got to sit up?

“The dogs have never liked it. And you know, all that waste. It’s not really hygienic in the clinic either.”

“You operate with your toes?”

Law laughed. “When I do my hands . . . It’s not hygienic.”

.

Robin cast a glance at her back yard – the trees that offered privacy from the neighbours, the small pond. She enjoyed life in the New World now Luffy was pirate king.

“The dogs don’t like it, but Bepo can handle it?”

“Well, he’s a freak, too. Minks wear makeup, right?”

Robin nodded. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Makeup?”

“Being a freak.”

“To the contrary, some of my best friends are freaks. You can’t all be Chopper.”

Law calls Robin a freak and gets away with it. heh. Perhaps. Anyway, I’ll put the link to the AO3 story as the source (just edited it in. This post has been up for long enough).  It’s actually about dogs and links back to another story, and is kinda sad, and features Robin, but is about Law and Marco, and there’s plenty of humour too. If you want to read it, be my guest. It’s an older one, written a few years ago. T-rated.

[batboysandgirls]

Tim Drake x Reader - Explosions And Other Saturday Morning Activities - PART 2

PART ONE HERE, PART THREE HERE, and PART FOUR HERE! Title: Explosions And Other Saturday Morning Activities - PART 2 Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: After discovering Tim Drake’s identity in an attack on Wayne Tower, you return to life as a Wayne Enterprises intern... but there’s a few problems.  Problems include (but are not limited to): going on a lunch date with Tim that is definitely not a lunch date, being the reason #timistaken is trending on Twitter, and getting kidnapped.  Typical Batfamily-adjacent issues, right? ... Right? Notes: Canon-typical descriptions of violence and injuries. Words: 4.4k

“I can’t believe you came in today!” Liza from social media management said.  “You’re so brave.”

You were trying not to roll your eyes.  If one more person called you “brave,” “strong,” or “tough” because you survived an Black Mask attack on your workspace Saturday and came into said workplace the following Wednesday… you were going to scream.

All the Wayne Enterprises interns on your floor had gathered around your desk, asking to hear about what happened.  You briefly retold the story for the mini-crowd of mostly college students who were definitely slacking off and using your injuries as an excuse to kill twenty minutes.  Maybe three were genuinely concerned.

You sat next to Nadiah from web design, and she had nervously been glancing at you all morning.  You usually ate lunch together and were certainly friends, so that made sense.  Ivan and Maria from public relations also were worried, though you wondered if it stemmed more from the fact you could still miss your deadline at end of the week, which would screw them up.  The work of a videography intern stops for no crime lord attacks, apparently.

(This morning, your boss, after hugging you and expressing how happy she was that you were alive, swore that you could take off whatever time you needed and to not worry about work.  You liked your boss a lot.)

The rest were just giving you pitying looks and nodding their heads to whatever you said.  You weren’t even sure of a few people’s names.  You weren’t paying that much attention and didn’t notice when a few girls at the back of the swarm around you started gasping (mostly likely because some guy from marketing was mansplaining how difficult this must be for you, which was distracting).

You did notice Nadiah go, “Oh my god,” as she looked behind you.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, Peter,” a familiar voice spoke.  “But ______, can I chat with you for a minute?”

You turned around to see Tim Drake-Wayne standing before you.  Last time you’d seen him, he was bloodied and in a burnt Red Robin costume.  Now, he was looking unfairly handsome in a suit with no tie.  Some girls were giggling at him, but he didn’t seem to mind.  You were way too happy to see him.  This was so wrong, wasn’t it?  To like your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss?  Who happens to be a superhero?  But you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

(So, so wrong.  But it feels right.)

“He was not saying anything particularly interesting,” you said, standing up.  “Sure.”

Tim smiled at that remark, eyes sliding to the slightly offended mansplainer, apparently named Peter, and titled his head towards the western door of the floor.

“I was thinking we should get lunch today.  Bruce and I really want to make it up to you for everything that happened Saturday,” he said as you walked.  You heard a few girls jealously gasp and whisper something about how lucky you were to have a “lunch date” with Tim Wayne.

Everything, huh?  Including discovering his secret identity and helping his fellow vigilantes escape from behind tied up?

You walked across the floor together, ignoring the jaw drops of not just interns but full staff members.

“Well, I know it was a long day for the both of us,” you said. “I’m glad we both seem to be healing and in good spirits.”

He smiled as he opened the door to the stairwell for you. “Exactly.”

This stairwell hadn’t been badly damaged to begin with, but, overall, repairs to Wayne Tower happened very quickly after Black Mask’s attack.  It was mostly windows that had been destroyed, along with the other central stairwell, not structural integrity stuff (thankfully).  And apparently, Wayne money could buy you not just quality reconstruction, but speedy reconstruction.

You could see some of the put-on charm vanish from Tim’s manner as you descended down the stairs, the two of you now alone.  He stopped at a landing between your floor and the next, looking you up and down.

“I just wanted to check on you.  Away from a slew of interns.  Is your side healing okay?”

Your fingers automatically reached for the gash bandaged below your blouse.  “It… it still hurts, and it’s going to leave a large scar.  But the nurse said it should be fully healed in about a month.”

Tim frowned.  “I’m sorry.  That’s awful.”

You tried to smile a bit, but it probably looked a little forced by the way Tim’s face turned even more apologetic.

“How are you doing?” you asked, before glancing around the stairwell.  This probably wasn’t secure enough to talk about Tim being Red Robin… you’d make do.  “I know that you had some injuries too, right?”

Tim nodded slowly, and you could see in his eyes that he wasn’t just affirming his injuries.  He was approving your careful questioning about the events of the attack.

“Yeah, but nothing too serious.  I’ve had a few bad accidents that were worse, so, with some rest, I was alright.”

Thing was, he didn’t look alright.  The way he was standing, his body looked tense and heavy.  His gaze even felt tired; there were dark bags below his stunning blue eyes.  You wished that Batman would force his kids to take time off.  More than three days.

You didn’t say anything in response though, because it probably wasn’t your place.  Tim smiled at you.  You found you couldn’t smile back; instead, you just tried to push down the knot of worry in your stomach, worry for this boy you hardly knew anyway.

“Meet me in the café across the street at noon, okay?  It’ll be my treat.  I should get back, see you soon.”

You gave a little wave as you each headed your respective ways, then you stopped and headed back towards him.

“Tim.”

“Hm?  Wh—”

Just as Tim turned back towards you, you enveloped him in a hug.  He was frozen for a second, but then he hugged you back.

“Sorry.  It just seemed like you needed that,” you said into his shoulder.  Tim didn’t say anything, but he hugged back a little tighter.  You didn’t know how long you stood there holding Tim, but a warm feeling didn’t leave your chest long after you had returned to your desk.

✹ ✹

Tim told you to order whatever you wanted, and you had to remind yourself as you looked at the menu that he was not one of your college friends.  He quite literally could afford everything and anything.  Usually, you’d try to choose something on the cheap end if someone offered to buy you food, but Tim Drake was not a broke student.

The café was simple, but nice.  It looked like this was a popular spot for lunch in Old Gotham.  You got a chocolate croissant and avocado toast with salmon—

(You could practically hear what your parents would say if they saw you eating avocado toast, but you ignored your mind’s versions of them.  They couldn’t mock you here.)

—with lemonade.  Tim had a chocolate muffin, BLT, and several cups of coffee.  Well, that probably explained how he was awake and alert, even though he looked exhausted.

You two mostly chatted about nothing important.  You talked about what interning was like, weird stories from around the office.  Tim talked about what it was like being a teenager basically running a multi-billion dollar corporation, funny anecdotes about adults being confused by him.  It was… weirdly nice.  He wasn’t a distant boss a dozen floors below you, he wasn’t a mysterious vigilante you’d only ever seen in darkness until a few days ago.  No, he was a teenage boy who was laughing at your joke about your boss not understanding the sad cat meme on your phone lockscreen despite her being the reason you changed your lockscreen to a sad cat meme.

His laugh made your stomach do embarrassing flips, and his smile filled you with a warm feeling.  This was very, very wrong.  He was still your boss, vaguely.  But you were eating pastries together and laughing, and you found you didn’t care.

As the laughter died down, your eyes met, and something passed between you in the way they did that set your heart racing.  The way Tim’s eyes widened a little at you made you wonder if he felt whatever that was too.  Tim cleared his throat, looking away.

“Bruce wants you to come to dinner Friday,” he said slowly.  His eyes returned to you, and you realized from the weight of his gaze that this was probably the main reason he got lunch with you.  To ask you this.  You should have known you weren’t just going to sit with the knowledge of the whole… (What were the bat heroes called altogether? Batclan?  Batfamily?  That sounded right.) ...the whole batfamily’s secret identities.

“Okay.  Because of—” you started.

(You weren’t even going to finish this sentence, because you couldn’t finish it aloud in a random café—)

“—yeah…yeah,” Tim cut you off.  While you had been talking about funny little life things, the tension and heaviness that had bogged Tim down in the stairway seemed to lift a bit.  But it had returned as soon as he spoke about this dinner with Bruce.

“...are you sure you’re okay after everything?” you asked, “Because it was a lot.  Even for you.”

“I—I’m really fine,” Tim replied, with all the certainty of someone who was definitely not fine.  “...I’m fine.”

You weren’t going to get up and hug him again, but you reached across the table and took Tim’s hand.  You gave it a squeeze and smiled a little at him.

“It’s okay to not be fine.  It was… too much.”

(You were looking at Tim’s face, and you could see a boy being electrocuted on the ground in front of you, just screaming, and you could see a boy under your arm as you descended the stairwell, his blood dripping onto you, and you could see a boy leaning against a wall, eyes closed.  You could see he was a boy.  Before he was a hero, he was a boy.)

“But we made it out.  We’re going to be alright, eventually.  But it’s okay to be not okay, in the right now.”

Tim stared at you, then nodded, squeezing your hand.

“You’re right.  I’m—” Tim paused, inhaling a shaky breath, “I’m not totally fine.  It’s what I’m used to, to just push past things, but it’s never—.  It was bad, really bad.  And I’m not fine because of it.  But I think I will be eventually.  We both will be.”

You exchanged a smile with Tim, then drew your hand back.

“Dinner sounds good.  Is it at…. your house?”

“Wayne Manor,” Tim said with a grin.  “My house, mansion, estate, whichever word you prefer.”

“...there’s not a metro stop near there, is there?” you said cheekily.

“No, but you can ride back with me after work.”

“Fancy.”

“We like to impress,” Tim said.

“I can’t wait.”

✹ ✹

You woke up next morning, shutting off your phone alarm absently as you hopped out of bed.  You brushed your teeth, thinking back to the end of your lunch date.  You’d walked back to Wayne Tower together, and you swapped phone numbers before you each returned to work.  Honestly, it wasn’t even really a date.  It was a “sorry you got injured in an attack on our building and thanks for saving my life also Batman wants to talk to you” lunch.  But you could indulge yourself in the comfort of your own bathroom.  Lunch date was easier to say, anyway.

When you finally grabbed your phone after getting dressed, you almost dropped it when you saw the sheer number of notifications you had.  What the fuck had happened?

TWITTER                6:32 AM Amy Lin, Sarah Twine, elle loves draco malfoy, and 2,643 others have followed you

TWITTER                6:29 AM You have 10K new likes, and 4K new retweets.

MESSAGES                2:32 AM EMILYYYY: YOU ARE PROBABLY ASLEEP BUT YOU NEED TO TELL ME ASAP IF THIS IS LEGIT

MESSAGES                2:32 AM EMILYYYY: OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN THIS???  IS THIS REAL???

MESSAGES                2:31 AM EMILYYYY: bzfd.it/TimWayneGF-summer

You’ve got about twenty more texts from other friends all talking about a Buzzfeed article, a video, and Tim Wayne.

It’s too early for this.

You take your phone with you and open the link from Emily, your college roommate, as you make cereal.

10 Reasons We ALREADY Love Tim Wayne’s New Girlfriend

Oh no.

Tim Wayne, adopted son of Bruce Wayne and Gotham royalty, has a new girlfriend: _____ ______.  While most young women in Gotham are disappointed that one of the city’s most eligible young men is taken (just take a look at #timistaken on Twitter), we can’t help but love the incredibly interesting and talented _____.

1. She’s an intern at Wayne Enterprises.

amelia needs a nap @amelim67 ok I know everyone is upset that #timistaken but hold onto your butts for 1 second bc he’s going out with a wayne enterprises intern… which means… this is the wattpad story we all dreamed of living 12:34 AM  •  7/4/__ 10.2K Retweets    25.7K Likes

Amelia is right—this is basically straight out of a Wattpad story and we’re loving it.  _____ is a (paid!!) videography intern at WE, which impressive because 1) WE internships are incredibly competitive and 2) _____ JUST FINISHED HER FRESHMAN YEAR.  SHE ALREADY HAS ONE OF THE MOST COMPETITIVE INTERNSHIPS IN THE COUNTRY.  BAD.  ASS.

2. She’s incredibly smart.

That’s right, one of the reasons _____ got a WE internship is because she’s a genius.  No, really.  Now heading into her Sophomore year at Gotham U, _____ is a Wayne Merit Scholar, one of 15 students per class who has a full ride to Gotham U based on merit alone.

The Wayne Foundation already has an extensive financial aid program for college-bound Gotham students, but they only have one (yes, 1) purely merit-based program, the Wayne Merit Scholarship.  With only 15 scholars per year, the program is incredibly competitive, but _____ clearly is a standout student.  She was valedictorian at East Gotham High School, and she made the dean’s list this year at Gotham U.

Tim Wayne is known for being a genius himself, and we don’t blame him for being drawn to someone as bright as he is.  Smart is sexy.

3. Her Twitter is HILARIOUS.

_______ @_______ friend from Nevada: omg I heard a metro stop exploded are you ok?? me: yeah lol it was only two face friend from Nevada: ONLY TWO FACE?? me: girl I live in a city with the joker yes ONLY two face 2:34 PM  •  7/3/__ 2 Retweets    14 Likes

You couldn’t take reading any more of your own tweets.  You exited the article and immediately private your Twitter.  Some damage control. The tweets were not hilarious if 432,756 people have really read them, like the top of the article said.

You ate your cereal, trying to calm down process why Buzzfeed and the internet decided you were dating Tim.  After you finished, you opened the article again.  The rest of the reasons Buzzfeed loves you were varying levels of uncomfortable.  6 was the worst.

6. She’s super independent.

From her Twitter, we learned that _____ doesn’t have a great relationship with her parents.

_______ @_______ People talking about their relationships with their parents…  HA wonder what that’s like 11:29 PM  •  10/5/__ 3 Likes       __________ @_______        Replying to @_______ Not that I’m unhappy living completely on my own without support from my folks but uhhhh sometimes I forget how not normal that is 11:31 PM  •  10/5/__ 2 Likes

But with _____’s brains (see #2) and paid internship (see #1), she’s clearly made a way for herself without the help of her parents.

But 10 was probably what started this madness in the first place.

10. Finally, the now viral video of her comforting words to Tim Wayne on a lunch date.

Transcript below:

T: Bruce wants you to come to dinner Friday. _: Okay.  Because of— T: —yeah.  Yeah.

[slight pause]

_: Are you sure you’re okay after everything?  Because it was a lot.  Even for you. T: I—I’m really fine.  I’m fine.

[____ reaches her hand across the table and takes Tim’s hand.]

_: It’s okay to not be fine.  It was too much, but we made it out.  We’re going to be alright eventually.  But it’s okay to be not okay in the right now. T: You’re right.  I’m— [Tim takes a breath] I’m not totally fine.  It’s what I’m used to, to just push past things, but it’s never—.  It was bad, really bad.  And I’m not fine because of it.  But I think I will be eventually.  We both will be.

[The pair share a smile.]

The two teens were both injured in the recent attack on Wayne Tower in Gotham by local crime lord Black Mask.  The moment seems to stem from their shared experience.   Not to mention a dinner invite!  Could Tim Wayne be introducing  _____ to his father Bruce Wayne and family for the first time?

Okay.  Okay.  So, the video was clearly just someone in the café recording you two talking, in what appears to be a quite intimate moment.  And everyone jumped on it—#timistaken apparently.

(You felt a strange hurt watching yourself console Tim.  That was meant to be just for Tim, not for the entire internet to see.)

And now everyone and their mother thought you were dating one of Gotham’s most eligible teens.

Great.

You called Tim.

“Tim, have yo—”

“Yeah, ____, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.  Some random person took the video of us at the café.  I just… You’re probably used to this level of attention.  I’m really not.”

“I know.  As soon as I saw, I called the WE publicity team.  They’re trying to get that Buzzfeed article down.”

“The stuff with my parents, just—.  I mean, I shouldn’t have vented about it so openly on my Twitter, but I feel like there’s journalism ethics stuff to not randomly report that stuff about someone who’s not a public figure.”

“I know.  I’m hoping in a couple hours that they’ll remove that part at least, if not the whole article.  We’ve got a pretty good P.R. team, as you might imagine.”

(The number of playboy bizarre yacht and jet ski accidents Bruce Wayne had got into over the years started to make some more sense as soon as you learned he was also a vigilante.)

“Okay.  That’s good.”

“Let me know if you have any trouble with anything.  Literally anything.  We’ve got security people, P.R. people, people people—whoever is best suited to help if you have an issue.”

You frowned.  “Do you really think I’ll need a security person?”

You heard Tim pause on the other end of the line.  “...probably not.”

“Probably?”

“You never know.  I’m kind of... popular.”  Tim’s voice said “popular” like it was a disease.

“I hadn’t noticed,” you said, feeling a small smile form on your face despite how overall awful this situation had been.

“Oh?  Better pay closer attention.”

(Were you flirting?  Was Tim flirting back?  Was this allowed?  You literally just had a conversation to establish how you were going to take down press about you two dating.  Ugh.)

“I’m sure I will,” you said, before pausing.  “Thank you, Tim.  I’ll call you if anything else comes up.”

“Of course.  Let me know.  Talk to you later.”

✹ ✹

By the time you got to lunch at work, you were about ready to hurl yourself through your computer screen.  Your email was filled with requests from reporters to comment on your “relationship” with Tim Wayne, which you quickly deleted.  Other interns from around the floor kept wandering by asking if you were really dating Tim.

(“No.” “But I th—” “No, we’re not a thing.  I have work to do.”)

Even your boss stopped by to ask how you were doing, and you had to resist the urge to scream.  You needed everybody to leave you alone and stop asking.

Thankfully, when you ate lunch with the usual group of interns you considered your friends, no one brought it up after you said, “I am not dating Tim Drake,” as you sat down.  Nadiah from web design complained about her superiors' inability to reply to emails in a timely manner, George from engagement told a funny story from his weekend involving a puppy loose in the intern housing, and you were able to completely set aside all the uneasiness that came with Buzzfeed and being the reason for a Twitter hashtag.  It was nice to laugh and joke about your bosses and worry about the things you were supposed to be worried about.

George stopped you as you were walking back to the office from the cafeteria.

“Hey, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I just wanted to make sure you’re not too stressed about everything.”

You smiled.  George was one of your favorite interns.  He was just genuinely sweet and also really good at his job.

“I’m pretty stressed, but I think it’s going to be okay.  Tim told me that he’s got Wayne P.R. people trying to get the weird personal information Buzzfeed found about me off the Internet.”  You shrugged.  “Whatever happens, happens.  I’ll be okay.”

George nodded.  “Just let me know if I can help.  My job is basically social media management, so… I know stuff.”

“That you do,” you said with a smile.  “Thanks.  I’ll tell you if I could use your expertise.”

“On the subject of expertise, can I ask you a favor?”

You raised an eyebrow.  “Uh, sure?  I don’t think I’ve got expertise in much.”

“Do you know how to install a graphics card in a computer?”

That you did actually have mild expertise in.  You had become known as “computer girl” around the office earlier in the summer for installing a new power supply in your boss’s computer when her old one broke.  I.T. was too slow for her liking.  Graphics cards were pretty easy comparatively.

(It occurred to you how many epithets you’d acquired around the office.  First, “computer girl.”  Then, “explosion girl.”  Now, “Tim Wayne’s girlfriend girl.”  Oh, wait.  Girlfriend already contains girl.  Ugh, whatever.  Can’t you just be a nameless intern?  Is that too much to ask?)

George explained that he needed help installing a graphics card he just ordered, having never opened up his computer before he was afraid he’d damage it.  You agreed to come over that evening and give him a hand.  He lived a couple floors below you in the intern housing.  You’d been over to his place a few nights with a bunch of interns to watch movies and hang out.  It might be a nice distraction from everything to just… do some work on a friend’s computer.  Not worry about anything else.

Work was uneventful the rest of the day except for a series of amusing texts from Tim just before you headed out.

Tim Drake-Wayne It only took FOREVER but the buzzfeed top 10 reasons article is now a top 5

Tim Drake-Wayne They took out half the stuff, mostly the more sensitive information

Tim Drake-Wayne And they also added at the bottom that my press team reached out and denied any relationship

Tim Drake-Wayne So of course they put that “the evidence suggests otherwise but

Tim Drake-Wayne Not to sound like a whiny celebrity but I hate the paparazzi???

Tim Drake-Wayne ANYWAY please let me know if anyone else bothers you or if I can do anything to help

Tim Drake-Wayne I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow

Tim Drake-Wayne I mean, everybody is

Tim Drake-Wayne Looking forward to it

Tim Drake-Wayne Everyone wants to meet you, esp Dick and Damian

Tim Drake-Wayne And Bruce

Tim Drake-Wayne This is an obnoxious number of texts I’m sorry I’ll stop

You Your texts are very enjoyable, don’t be sorry

You I started laughing to myself and the intern Nadiah who sits next to me was giving me weird looks

You Thanks for all your help with the article I am so grateful

You I’m looking forward to dinner too, but I am slightly terrified

You I think for rather obvious reasons

You But I’ll text you tomorrow once I’m done and I’ll come downstairs to meet you??  Then we can drive to your house

You Your house which happens to be Wayne Manor which is so crazy oh my god??

You But seriously, I’m glad you invited me

You Thank you again, for everything

You tried not to smile too hard at your phone as you walked back to the intern housing.  You made some ramen for dinner quickly, then headed down to George’s apartment, telling yourself “Don’t think about Tim” over and over.

(It didn’t work.  You thought about Tim.)

Working on George’s computer did provide a distraction.  It was a rather tight fit adding the graphics card in his computer tower, so you took your time.

George was chatting pretty mindlessly to you as you worked, mostly about the latest Twitter beef the Wayne Enterprises account got into with Arby’s.

“It was kind of accidental.  I was just trying to be funny and then it got a little out of control.”

“This is why I’m not an engagement intern,” you said as you clicked in the graphics card.  “I think I’d accidentally start Twitter beef with everybody.  Video is less interpersonal, mostly.”

George began to talk about how you’d probably be fine at engagement, or something, but you tuned him out because there was a weird device attached to his power supply.  It looked like a like container.  You’d never seen anything like that in a computer before.  It was also taking up a lot of space right near where you had to plug in the card to the motherboard.

“Hey, George,” you started, looking closer at the little canister inside his computer.  “What’s this bit us—”

You didn’t finish.  Suddenly, one of George’s hands pressed against your mouth and the other pinned your arms to your chest, and the canister started letting something out into the air.

You struggled against George’s grasp, but he was basically sitting on top of you, and he was much larger than you were.  You tried to hold your breath as long as you could, but eventually you inhaled whatever was now in the air.  You immediately felt sleepy.

As everything started to fade away, you heard George whisper.

“I am sorry about this, _____, but the boss can’t be mocked.”

You closed your eyes and thought of what a shame it would be to miss dinner tomorrow as everything went black.

(UPDATE: PART THREE HERE!!  AND PART FOUR HERE!!!) / (Hey!  I wrote a part 2!  I am also going to write a part three, obviously.  I won’t leave you hanging with this ending. Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!  Also, let me know if you’d liked to be tagged in the next installment. c:)

[thewriterwithnoplan]

Fire, Brimstone and the Glory of Gotham (Part 1)

Summary: Bart Allen always seems to know something about something. Strange facts or secrets or theories gifted to him from his soulmate. This ‘gift’ along with his forbidden speed wielding abilities, get him landed smack bang in the center of the Gotham Resistance - an army fighting against the Reach with the help of villains and assassins. Tangled up with the Council of Robins - an elitist group of heroic descendants - and their fearless leader Y/N Drake AKA Commander Apocalypse, Bart must navigate this new environment like a minefield. Because one wrong step could bring his life and the lives of every last human being, to a short and bitter end. Pairing: Bart Allen x Reader Word Count: 2377 Warnings: Probably swearing.

The Reach liked to say that Humans had brought this upon themselves. With their medalling heroes and their strange customs. They liked to blame the Earth itself for being so enticing with its meta-humans and its soulmates. It had only been a matter of time before an alien race had discovered the true power human's harbored and decided to take it for themselves.

Sometimes Y/N wondered if the Reach would have left them well enough alone without soulmates. Not that she'd ever wanted a soulmate or even given the concept much thought. But the arrival of the Reach had put humanity at an impasse, and it was common knowledge nowadays that soulmates were not something to celebrate.

In fact, many couples despised each other or went as far as getting rid of their soul bound. Significant others or relationships of any kind were far too dangerous in the modern era. Why would you want a soulmate when the most they could do was give you more to worry about? Honestly, Y/N couldn't see the appeal and that was perhaps the only thing that had kept her alive all these years.

"Ready?" Mari' Grayson – Y/N's closest thing to a sister – nudged her softly, green-glowing eyes innocently curious. The H/C haired girl kept her eyes trained dutifully forward, watching the digital numbers flash above them, announcing their acescent through the elevator shaft.

"Kind of feeling the mode actually," She answered honestly.

Y/N hated choosing ceremonies. Hand-picking someone to put their life on the line in order to help them in their war against the Reach. But it was one of her most important jobs as Commander of the Gotham Resistance. If she chose wrong and they accidentally divulged secrets to a spy, the entire operation could come crumbling down. It was one of the few things that Y/N despised about her life; the fact that she had to send people to their deaths and the fact that said people were willingly lining up for it.

"Have you seen the line up yet?" Mari' asked as she repositioned her tiara and brushed off her purple vigilante outfit, appearing far too old to be a mere ten years old. "Riding Hood says there'll be mostly civilians like usual, but apparently one of the descendants is going to come. Crash, huh?"

"A descendant? As in, child of one of the old heroes?" Y/N frowned at the too eager nod she received from Mari', "Haven't seen a new one of them in a good few years. Speaking of Riding Hood where is Jocelyn? I thought one of the Todds would want to be here especially if there's supposed to be a descendant."

"Uncle Jason has them off patrolling Star City." The young girl shrugged, raven curls bouncing with the gesture. "Apparently the Arrows called in a Code Blue."

"They saw Blue Beatle, and nobody thought to tell me?"

"They asked specifically for the Todd's help." She murmured timidly. "You know how the Arrows get, but Uncle Roy and Lian trust them."

"Still Mari' we've talked about this," Y/N sighed as she straightened out her own outfit – mostly consisting of black with red and yellow highlights, "Jocelyn may be eldest, but I was elected as Commander."

Mari' gave a small apologetic smile as the pair continued to stare at the many, many levels of the Batcave. Once upon a time – according to Mari's father, Dick Grayson – there had only been a few small levels that they mostly used as a base of operations. It was still a base of operations, but desperate times had called it into service for more than that.

After the destruction of the Mount. Justice, Bruce Wayne had gone to work on the cave. And thank the gods he had. The rebellion didn't just work out of the Batcave, they all lived there. They had been forced to after the destruction of Wayne manor. It was the only home that Y/N had ever known. She'd been raised here, trained here, had run the Resistance from within the cold stone walls for years.

But it was times like these that she didn't recognize the compound. Perhaps it was because she was so very different from the starry-eyed girl that had bounced the halls like Mari' herself could. Sometimes she envied the young girl for her innocence – even if she was prone to violent joy like the rest of them. Y/N would never admit it but sometimes her mind wandered, and she found herself contemplating what it would be like if she wasn't the second oldest.

"We'd likely all be dead," The boy behind them chimed, making Mari' jump out of her skin. Even Y/N had forgotten that Dorian Wayne was there. "Yeah, people do that a lot."

"Again Dorian, stop reading my mind."

Gods sometimes Y/N fucking hated Dorian. Don't get her wrong the boy was basically her sibling – as was Jocelyn and Mari' – but he could drive her crazy sometimes. His Telepathy could get rather pesky in a domestic situation, so it was lucky that they were barely ever off the battlefield. Besides, Y/N would have to deal with Dorian anyway even if they hadn't been almost siblings. The fact that the boy was heir to the League of Assassins always seemed to work in their favor despite the fact that Dorian was a dumbass.

"Rude." He hissed lightly, although she knew that he put up with them too. From what he'd told her, the Resistance's compound was a much better place to be raised in comparison to the League of Assassins. Even if they were constantly in battles or at these choosing ceremonies or sitting through lengthy council meetings.

Dorian frowned at her, "I was being serious though. If you weren't the commander, then the Resistance would probably have been moded years ago."

"That's crash of you D." Y/N gave a dry chuckle. "But I'm just the face of the Resistance, the Council is a collective it's not just me pulling the strings."

"Bullshit," He grumbled like a small child – unsurprising for his fourteen years. "We all listen to you. Mari' follows you like a puppy and Jocelyn... Bad example but if she listens to anyone it's you."

"Thank you, Dorian."

"It's true," Mari' grinned up at her, "Whenever Daddy stops by, he says that the Old Heroes would have liked you. He thinks you're the perfect leader for the Council of Robins."

"Sweetheart." Y/N sighed deeply as the young girl sniffled softly. It wasn't often that Dick Grayson – the Golden boy and first Robin – was seen or discussed but whenever he came up it was a sore subject. Ever since that first day when he had swooped in, dropped Mari' off and disappeared they'd all made it clear how they felt about him. But the Council – meaning Dorian, Jocelyn, and Y/N – knew how important that relationship was to Mari'. It didn't make it hurt any less.

They'd all been there though. Mari' was just the latest one to be dumped at the compound where all sorts of meta children seemed to end up. Although Mari' was still one of the lucky ones, children - like the ones they were going to be choosing from – often didn't have parents and had to fight to get a place in the Resistance. Even meta-humans and descendants of the old heroes had to earn their keep. Mari' was more fortunate than she knew, being born into her position on the Council of Robins was probably the only thing that had kept her alive all these years.

Y/N sighed and pulled the young girl - who was still unnervingly small for her age - to sit on her hip. Dorian and Y/N began cooing at their fellow Robin, talking about how proud of her they were. It was something they all did for each other, especially since only Jason had stuck around for his child. Neither of the elder council members seemed to hear the elevator ding over their coddling but they certainly realized after the doors opened. Eight young faces stared at the three Robin's as they swiftly straightened and exited the elevator.

"Not a word." Was all Dorian bothered to say to them as he settled into a highbacked office chair. Despite the fact that the black leather half-swallowed him, he still managed to make the gesture look threatening. Y/N stifled a laugh as she gently set Mari' down and took her own seat.

"Now," Y/N said calmly, "As most of you know, the Resistance houses all those who can make it here-" A few tense shoulders slackened in relief but then the girl added sharply, "However. Those of you who are here to join our fighters will not be so easily accepted. If you would like to take a place in the Resistance step forward."

One of the boys stepped forward eagerly, almost vibrating with excitement. The others seemed less than sure as they glanced between one another. Only three more stepped forward before the remaining four were escorted out and to whatever room that Alice Pennyworth - their head of care and communication - had assigned them.

Y/N glanced at the four left - the over-eager-brunette-boy, a stoic-blond-girl and a pair of twins who stood far too still to be natural. Dorian frowned at her, motioning to his head as if to say; let me read their minds. She sent him a harsh glare, the last time he had tried to read anyone but his family's minds - who he got into far too easily - they'd ended up as drooling messes on the floor.

Noticing that her cousins were caught up in a glaring competition Mari' spoke for them, "What makes you special?"

"I am Kun and this is Lou." The first twin said softly, "We hail from Metropolis."

Someone sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of Gotham's sister city. Metropolis was said to be a dead zone for anyone foolish enough to go anywhere in the vicinity. Once upon a time, it had been protected by the Superfamily who had run an operation much like the Council of Robin's.

Whenever Damian Wayne and Jon Kent visited, they often spoke about how it had once been the Sunshine city. Nowadays Gotham was the only safe place - save Star city thanks to the Arrows but they didn't run anything like the Resistance, they protected it mostly for spite. So, coming from Metropolis was skill enough.

"I spent three years in the pits," The red-haired girl huffed. It suddenly made sense why her body was mostly muscle even when her face seemed hollow. Kids who got caught by the more merciful Reach members were sent to the pits where they mined for them or fought each other for entertainment.

The over-eager-brunette-boy sped forward a few steps as he blurted, "I'm the last descendant of the Flash!"

Silence rolled over the room as the three other contenders winced. Descendants were usually their most sought-after members. Often, they got accepted immediately after a blood test. But a child if the Flash? Yeah, Y/N didn't think so, she sent Dorian a look that said as much. He nodded once and drew the sword from across his back. Mari' jumped slightly, skittered off her seat and leaped onto Y/N’s lap.

“Children of Flash are enemies of the Council of Robin’s,” Dorian gave a savage grin as Mari’ buried her head in the crook of her Y/N’s neck, “Leave Gotham or we will be forced to call in a full response.”

A full response. Not something they did for just anyone but speedsters? Hell yeah, they were going to call everyone they knew. The Council of Robin’s had lost far too much at the hands of the Flash and his descendants. It had been one of the Flash’s descendants – Y/N had never cared to learn which one - who had chosen to check on his soulmate instead of saving countless civilians. The decision had left Jocelyn’s mother, Nightingale, Mari’s mother, Starfire, and Y/N’s own mother – Wandera – at the mercy of the Reach’s very worst members.

The Council of Robins - and the Gotham Resistance by extension – liked to call it the Spitfire complex. It could happen to anyone if you thought about it, but those with the power of the speed force seemed programmed that way. They fell madly, irreversibly in love. Y/N thought it might have been nice had they not been living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland where that sort of bullshit could get them all killed. Spitfires were dangerous, they often went insane if their other half passed – so Y/N wasn’t taking any chances.

“Wait n-” The boy protested only to be cut off by Dorian placing his katana at his neck.

Y/N nodded to the girl and the pair of twins, “You three are dismissed, training starts tomorrow at eighteen hundred.”

“Thank you, Commander.” The girl breathed in relief, that tough exterior breaking for a moment as she ducked her head in thanks and followed as Alice returned to lead them to their quarters.

Y/N’s eyes settled on the brunette. He was so energetic in a way that she could almost feel the innocence rolling off of him in waves. It almost made her feel guilty for nodding to Dorian and watching as her cousin dragged the shaking boy off. But that boy – no matter how innocent he seemed – would grow to be just like the man who had let her mother and the mothers of her beloved cousins die.

Mari’ looked up at Y/N with round green eyes, as she huddled tighter into her embrace. She whispered something far too softly for the older girl to hear. Again, and again the youngest Robin whispered until her voice grew confident enough for Y/N to hear.

“Nightstar,” Mari’ murmured, a small smile erasing the wary look in her eyes. The tradition always did that to any of the Robin’s on the Council. It had started with their mothers – whispering their names until they felt free enough to say it to the world – and they had passed it to the Council.

“Nightstar.”

Y/N smiled softly down at the young Tameranian as she added her own name to the chant, “Apocalypse.”

@hm02​

[g00d1uckch4rm]

Chasing The Sun

Chapter 1: Story Time

Summary/Info Rated M

____________________________________________________

The Importance of Understanding Type Dynamics Version two: for coming-of-age young adults, patients and caregivers. By Doctor C. T. Tony

Section One

Introduction to Type Dynamics

These Types only influence the Human* reproductive system, also known as secondary-sex and holds no restriction over one's gender. There are four different Types Dynamics and; in most cases, are undetermined until one reaches sexual maturity. However, much like blood types, the parents Type Dynamic can influence what their children will have.

Listed here is a summary of information to do with sex and most common; but not limited to, behavioural patterns or traits. Further details well be addressed in Section Three and Four.

[*Other races such as Giants, Fishfolk, Minks, Sky People, Dwarves; including hybrids of previous races do not have Type Dynamics. While tribes/subraces of Humans have Types, it is even more rare for one to be Type A or O]

~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~

It's a moment much like that of Fishman Island; the battle had been hard, the people almost lost hope, but they prevailed in the end. Sure, things hadn't gone according to plan, but everyone fought hard and like always, the Straw-Hat's pulled off miracle somehow. It felt like it was the same-old-same-old, and yet, oh so refreshing and new.

So here everyone was; wounded, sore, and still having the energy to throw the biggest party Wano has probably ever seen. Music and merriment flooded the air. Bonfires and free spirits lit up the night. Food and drink seemed to be endless. Which was probably a good thing, considering who the heroes were.

Jinbei chuckled as he sipped his drink, Luffy may still deny it and give whatever reasons against it, but the facts remain. The truth remains. That people saved by the Straw-Hat Pirates will always believe that they are heroes. That Luffy is their hero. Not to undermine the others in any way, Luffy just has this aura, this energy that pulls people in. And the rest of the crew, they seemed fine with Luffy in limelight. Perhaps some even a little proud.

"Amused by Luffy's impressions?" Robin smiled up at him. For the most part they had sat in peaceful silence, or rather whatever they could get with all the celebrating going on.

At first his response was simply a hum, but it only took a second to survey the crowd for Luffy. It appeared that the captain was making a show of his powers and making a fool of himself. Arms and chest inflated comically, with the ends of his kimono tucked into his sash, all the while jumping from pose to pose. While a number of onlookers were getting a good laugh and others simply smiled in amusement, Usopp and Chopper at front row appeared to be dying.

Jinbei was just confused as to whom Luffy was trying to impersonate. Till Luffy brought his fists together above his head and stood with a slant to one side. "Franky?"

"Mm-hm. Though, it took you awhile." She teased. "Did it really take his signature pose for you to figure it out?"

"I haven't exactly gotten familiar with everyone. The most I've interacted with any of the crew was back on Fishman Island and even those moments were brief." Totto Land had just been one mission to another, with even less personal interaction. It's not easy to get to know someone when you're constantly running for your life or fighting for it.

"Aside from our captain, that is?"

Our captain. My captain. It was still new, but it left him feeling light, reassured. Jinbei smiled a little. "Yes. Aside from our captain."

"Well, it won't take you long get to know the crew. A few in particular may become your shadow. For the first month or so at least."

"Oh, and why would that be?"

"Because you're new and someone important."

Important? "I don't follow."

But Robin didn't clarify and Jinbei didn't press the subject. It seemed like she wasn't going to completely open with him, not yet anyway. Which was fair, they didn't know him that well either.

"You know, with more practice, Luffy could become very skilled with disguises." Jinbei mused as he watched the young man shape himself like an hourglass and spun around with a stick in hand. Nami..? The ginger woman then came bolting straight for Luffy with beat-red cheeks and then proceeded to chase him around. Nami.

"It would be handy with infiltration. To be any shape, any size." Robin agreed and then they shared a moment of soft laughter. "But his acting would never hold up."

"Indeed. There are better odds in a plan actually being followed."

She giggled a little more before they returned to comfortable silence between them. Enjoying their drinks while they watched Luffy and the others. It wasn't long before one of the samurai joined in on the antics, offering paint and the boys were quick to take up the idea. Messy work and Luffy's roaring laughter drew in Franky's interest. Before long; Usopp having taken charge of the painting, the four goofballs are dramatically dancing around with serious looking faces of red and white.

~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~

"Oi, helms' bro!" Franky greeted, now taking a cola break and held out his free hand to Jinbei as he approached. His face paint was a bit smeared after horsing around for a few hours. "Lookn' forward to workn' with ya!"

"Likewise." While they were close in size, the cyborg's main hands were still massive, leaving the handshake a bit awkward. But Franky appreciated the effort and firmness, the fishman's strength had his struts giving some resistance. It even gave Franky the momentary thought of challenging him to an arm-wrestling match sometime.

Releasing the hold and taking a seat next to Jinbei, Franky took a huge drink before continuing. "Heard from the nav' what you and Sunny were able to pull off back in Big Mom's territory. Pretty super stuff!"

"You share in some of that praise. Your craftsmanship is like nothing I've ever seen."

"Thanks! Oh, hey, by the way. I got a question for ya, but just don't take it the wrong way. Kay?"

"What might that be?"

"Do ya want me to adjust one of the hatches to the tank for ya?" They were definitely not big enough for the man to comfortably access as they were now.

"Tank?" Jinbei blinked, it had certainly not been along the lines of what he was expecting and was left puzzled.

"Ya, the aquarium around the bar? I'm sorta' in charge of accommodations an' stuff. But bein' a fishman, I don't know if you would feel more comfortable sleepin' the water or not."

"I was not aware that there was one on the ship. But it won't be necessary, just proceed as you normally would."

"Cool, sure thing-wait... Have you not seen the whole ship?"

"Afraid not, my brief times aboard has been spent getting everyone to safety."

Franky then clapped Jinbei on the back. "Well, can't have that, now can we! I'll show you all the gloriousness that is the Thousand Sunny!"

"I look forward to it. The more I know the ship, the better I'll be able to handle it."

"I would sure hope so, Sunny's full potential can't be reached by just anyone! I may have brought the lion to life, but I sure as hell can't tame that beast!" Franky howled with laughter.

"Hey, guys. Mind if I join?" Usopp asked as he came up to the group with a platter of food.

"Of course." Jinbei gestured for him to take a seat. Robin; having been simply enjoying the company, couldn't help but laugh a little. When the fishman looked her way, he was met with a knowing smile.

Usopp quirked a brow at her. "What's so funny, Robin?"

"What is the paint for?" She deflected.

"One of the samurai bros suggested it. Kubuki, I think is what he called it?" Franky offered before reaching to take some of Usopp's food. But he was not as swift as Luffy and Usopp moved his plate out of reach. "Come on, don't be stingy bro."

"Then ask, don't try to steal it. I was going to share, but now I don't think you deserve the courtesy."

Franky was quick to provide an exchange. "I'll share my cola with ya?"

"Sure." He grumbled and now offered the food to his crewmates. "Robin, Jinbei? Would you like some as well?" Each gave their thanks and took something from the plate to snack on. Not a moment after, Usopp was grinning. "So, Jinbei."

"Yes?"

"With you now officially a part of the crew, it makes sense that I; the Great Warrior Usopp, bring you up to speed of my grand adventures and heroic deeds." He said with great pride and fists posed on his hips. While Franky made the comment that; this was the real reason he brought food to share, Usopp either ignored him or didn't hear. Jinbei gave a mild expression of interest, but mostly wasn't sure what to expect.

Usopp began with a tale about befriending a pair of rival giants and helping to save their honour. Which was fascinating and Jinbei found the young man quite talented in storytelling. However, he ended up unintentionally raining on the sniper's parade when he began the next part. "-on a winter island, were a cruel King forces his people to support him by restricting access to doctors-"

Jinbei cuts him off when he recognizes the tale. "Oh, Drum Island. Not a huge fight, but it was Luffy's first notable appearance since Logue Town and the first kingdom he saved."

"Oh, so you know where we met Chopper." Undeterred, Usopp began anew. "Well, this next one is one of the Straw Hat's greatest moments! And one of our greatest secrets." Motivated to impress the helmsman with one of their adventures kept more under wraps. He sets the stage, does his buildups and is about to deliver the shocker. "-turns out she is none other than the Princess of Ala-"

When Jinbei speaks up and becomes a bit enthusiastic. "Alabasta. That was when Luffy fought his first Warlord, Crocodile. Quite the tough fight too, he had to figure out a way to defeat the Logia user before even knowing what Haki was."

"In much fewer and underwhelming words, but ya. Robin also joined the crew afterwards. I'm surprised you even know of this, the navy even covered it up and took credit for all our hard work."

Franky decided to chime in a little and tease Usopp. "You also messed up a little on the order there, Sanji said that you all knew who she was before Little Garden."

"Shh, you!" He scowled for a moment before going back into story mode. "So, the next adventure and this one you may have a hard time believing! It takes place on the mysterious White Sea-"

"Ah, the one about Skypiea. I would have certainly had trouble believing it, if not seeing some sky people myself."

At this point, Usopp deflated and lost most of his zeal. "... I probably should have started with asking what you've heard."

Jinbei felt bad for ruining Usopp's storytelling and apologised. "It was not my intention, but that was all rather rude of me wasn't it? I'm sorry. Though, I believe that I have heard most of Luffy's feats up to the point where we met."

"Where did you end up hearing all of this?" Robin asked, both amused and curious.

"On Fishman Island mainly, over the two years that the crew was separated, I-" Then Jinbei paused, coming to a realization and bringing a hand over his mouth. Oh... Oh, that's what they meant. Gods, he could hear them all laughing at him again and Aladdin was the worst of the lot. Why couldn't they have called him out on it sooner?

"You?" Usopp echoed.

Jinbei just hoped that his embarrassment didn't show on his face. Which it did, in an ever so slight flush. If anyone noticed, they didn't comment. Dropping his hand; to not bring further attention to his face, he continued. "I had many opportunities to speak to all sorts of travellers and some stories I even overheard."

"That would explain the focus on Luffy in the stories and why you didn't mention the points of new crew-members. You're hearing about it through the people that witnessed bits and pieces." Usopp was bitter that his spotlight had been taken from him. But he supposed that he still could fill in all the blanks. Along with the events of Punk Hazard, Dressrosa, and Zou. "I'll have to tell you the full stories."

"I'd like that." Jinbei then added. "It would good to get the whole truth of the events."

"Pft! Ya right!" Franky burst into a huge fit of laughter, to the point that he was on the verge of tears. "You'd best ask Robin, if that's the case!"

"Hey!" Usopp clearly offended does a karate-cop like gesture towards the cyborg. He likely had more to say on the matter, but his attention, along with everyone else was drawn to a rather loud, passing argument.

It was between the bear mink, Bepo and Law. "Captain, we understand-"

"Don't you dare-!" Law hissed in anger and pain; aside from Luffy, his injuries were some of the worse. It hurt to stand, let alone go for a walk. "None of you do- none of you can!"

"But Captain, you need to at least try to rest! You shouldn't-"

"Shut-up! It's my bloody body!" Law snapped, his harsh glare anchoring his first-mate on the spot. "Leave me alone." Then proceeded to the outskirts, with Kikoku held in his white-knuckle grip and a slight limp in his step.

Having witnessed that, Usopp felt bad for the mink. Whispering as he glanced from Bepo to Franky. "Yesh, that was harsh. Even for him. Do ya think maybe...?"

Franky knew what he left unsaid and while he didn't like it, he didn't think it was the place to interfere. "Ya." Tapping his nose as he replied, a cue to let Usopp know he was on point. "He's definitely off, but asking about it now might just make things worse."

"I get that, but what if Luffy," Usopp does a few uncertain gestures before holding his hands out towards Law's general direction. "...ya know?"

Though, Jinbei didn't want to wait on a group decision and as their conversation carried on, Jinbei took it upon himself to go talk to Luffy. He didn't want to be the one to jump to conclusions, but being aware that Law had gone through a great ordeal in the past couple months. It didn't help matters. However, he knew that there was nothing he could personally do for Law. Nothing that would likely be meaningful anyways.

It didn't take long to find Luffy. Giving the young man a wave, Jinbei made his way towards him.

Their captain waved in return and met the man halfway. A light bounce in his step despite his own terrible injuries. "Hey, Jinbei! You having a good time?"

Jinbei gave a small nod as his answer, but glanced over his shoulder, at the direction the other captain had gone. "Luffy, you're close with Law, are you not?"

"Ya, we are! He's a really good friend." But then his grin became more of a smile. Still cheerful, but figuring something was up. "Why? Something happen with Torao?"

"I just saw him and he said some rather worrisome things to Bepo."

"A fight?"

"No, no... Not exactly. I only overheard bits and pieces. His crew is worried about him; while Law is obviously gravely injured from the fight, he appears to be refusing to rest. As a doctor, Law knows very well what he should be doing... Yet he doesn't seem to be in the right mind. He doesn't seem to be himself." Jinbei's voice was quiet. This situation was stirring too many unpleasant memories and it wouldn't be right to speak so freely of someone else's internal conflict where so many people could overhear. He didn't want to cause more trouble for Law, especially if Jinbei had the wrong idea. I hope I'm wrong.

Luffy was silent, waiting to hear the rest. An odd moment of him being completely focused. Well, perhaps not entirely odd, the wellbeing of his friends and crew were of the utmost importance to the young captain.

"I can't deny that I am worried for his safety and of those around him. But I think it would be best if you make sure he is alright."

"Hmm." Luffy tilted his head as he mulled it over, for a second. "I can do that. Where's Torao at?"

"He was headed that direction, but I'm not certain where he's at as of this moment."

"Kay, just need to do one last–" He then looked around quickly, till he spotted his doctor. "Chopper! You got a sec?" He took off and left Jinbei to return to the festivities.

~~~~~~ ҉ ~~~~~~

It was the first hour after dawn, most were still asleep and honestly, Jinbei would be too if not for old habits. Still groggy, having only got a couple hours of sleep, he decided he would go down to the water for a soak. Geta in hand, he did his best to remain as quiet as possible for the others still passed out in the room. On his way out of the building, he couldn't help but look into the other room as he passed. The door was left open so it wasn't his fault and he hadn't expected anyone to be in it.

He froze as his eyes met with Luffy's and then they smiled. The young captain was clearly awake, however the same couldn't be said for the other captain curled up behind him. Law was still peacefully sleeping, yet keeping a hold on Luffy. They were sharing a blanket and looking dishevelled as some of their bandages had come lose. Jinbei opened his mouth to apologize, to say something, but Luffy quickly brought a finger to his lips. Shh!

While Jinbei snapped his jaw shut, Luffy's sudden movements had irritated Law. He wasn't sure if it was a grumble or a growl that came from the man, but it was in a threatening manner. Pulling Luffy into a tight embrace and placing his nose to Luffy's exposed shoulder. Though Luffy appeared to be slightly unhappy about something, Law did not wake, returning to a relaxed state and Luffy did nothing.

Jinbei hadn't realized that he had been staring till the soft sliding of the front door startled him out of it. Looking to the entrance, he saw Sanji quietly slipping off his footwear with a plate of food in hand. When the blond looked up, he paused and gave the fishman a questioning look. As if he wasn't expecting him to be awake yet. Jinbei on the other hand, glanced back toward their captain and the... state he was in.

Carefully he reached for the door, for reasons he wasn't sure of, but stopped before he could lay a hand on it. Sanji gave him the same hushing gesture and slowly made his way towards the room. As the cook peeked into the room; as much as Jinbei felt the need to keep him from doing so, Luffy lit up at the sight of him. Even giving him a little wave, which was briefly returned.

A hidden tension faded away, but the whole situation was becoming too much and full of unexpected chain reactions. With someone else on the scene and to deal with the matter, Jinbei was swift in making his escape.

Jinbei had expected a fight, even if it had been a small one. But this... he hadn't expected that. Whatever that was meant to be. His mind was spinning around in confused, hazy laps of the few brief seconds of what he witnessed.

Next Chapter -->>

[welllpthisishappening]

The Pocket Square Incident

Ok, so originally I posted this as an ask from @wholockgal which read: “The pocket square antics 100% scream Will to me... mortifying Belle when she realizes. Probably halfway through the night.”

But apparently now Tumblr doesn’t include “read more” in asks, and I was really worried about how long it was. So. We’ve moved here. Anyway, if the Rangers trade Jimmy Vesey I’ll riot. 

Also, here are some words set, approximately, a week after they win the second Cup. Which has led to some kind of epic celebration because, lest we not forget, Killian totally screwed up, told everyone he and Emma were going to have a kid and also because the Blues celebration has caused @optomisticgirl​ and I to plot things. Basically the Rangers have not been sober in quite some time at this point. Emma is passably amused. And now they’ve got to go to the NHL awards.

So here’s this. Which is based on this. In which Will Scarlet has to improvise. Here we go:

-----

“Are none of us going to talk about Scarlet’s pocket square?”

Killian hummed, nosing further at the side of Emma’s neck and he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten that close to her. He wasn’t really sitting on his chair anymore, was more perched on the edge with his hands moving absent-mindedly, like he was trying to take stock of her or find something to ground him and everything was still a little hazy around the edges.

“You’re a mess, Cap,” she laughed, and he was fairly certain her eyes were, in fact, getting greener. Emma nodded, letting her forehead rest against his and--“Yeah, you totally said that out loud too. A mess.”

“But,” Killian argued, hand shifting to her stomach and he could just make out her eye roll. It made him a little dizzy. “A mess you’re definitely into.”

“Something like that.”

Phillip groaned, slumping further into his chair and that was only going to end with him wrinkling his jacket. “You guys are ignoring me.”

“This is great practice for your kid,” Will quipped. Except the words weren’t entirely even. They were far more slurred, his gaze not quite straight and a distinct curl to his lips because, it seemed, two-time Stanley Cup winners who refused to drink much water were also very good at mocking everything around them.

Robin snickered. Into his arm. His head was resting on his arms.

“You know,” Regina drawled. “Maybe you’re all just a collective mess.”

Emma hummed. “Yeah, that’s definitely true. Killian, if you don’t stop, you’re going to rip my dress and then I’m going to have to kill you.”

“Check him,” Robin suggested. He didn’t lift his head.

“We are at a very fancy event.”

“So you should probably stop with the threats of murder, huh, love?” Killian asked, tilting his head up and he was going to be very smug about whatever sound she made as soon as his mouth dragged across the side of her jaw. For, like, the rest of the night.

If not the rest of their lives.

They should really start planning a wedding.

He really wanted to marry her.

“Said that out loud too,” Emma muttered, but there was a distinct color to her cheeks that hadn’t been there a few moments before. “That was nice, though.”

“Was the other one not nice?”

“He is drunk, Emma,” Will said. He was starting to wobble. In his chair. It would be a miracle if any of them got to the stage. “He’s got no idea what he’s saying right now. He’s just trying to impress you.”

She stuck her tongue out at him –– and she couldn’t blame being drunk, but she’d also been watching all of them be drunk and maybe in addition to planning a wedding, Killian would apologize for that.

“Unnecessary,” Emma said, tapping the tip of her finger against a jaw that was, suddenly, hanging open. “And I’m very impressed. Swooning, really.”

She pointed at herself, one side of her mouth tugging up and, really, there was nothing to do but pull his head up, catch her mouth and kiss her. In public. With cameras nearby. Emma laughed into his mouth, smile obvious even when Killian’s tongue darted forward, but the sound quickly morphed into something closer to a sigh and that, actually, might have been him.

Her fingers were in his hair.

“Oh my God, seriously, someone talk to me about Scarlet’s pocket square,” Phillip shouted. “He’s taking this way too seriously!”

“He’s nominated for the Norris,” Emma reasoned. She didn’t move away from Killian. He nipped at her lip.

“Yeah, I get that, but this is just---honestly, look at him. He’s like some kind of preening--”

“--Oh my God,” Belle breathed, and Killian wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her eyes get that wide. She jumped up, barely keeping her balance when she started swatting at Will’s shoulder. And his elbow. And his back.

“Babe, babe, c’mon, that’s--” Will started, but the swatting did not stop and every single one of her teeth was obvious when she glared at him. “You’re making it worse, really.”

“What made you decide to do this?”

“What is happening right now?” Robin asked, and that, at least, got him to lift his head. There were bags under his eyes.

Killian scoffed. “You’re too old for this, old man.”

“Oh shut up, talk to me when you start teething.”

“Me, personally?”

“Shut up, Cap.”

Belle’s arms were still masquerading as windmills. “What the hell happened, here,” she sneered. “How did you even fold it like that?”

"Ok, ok, this is mostly Cap’s fault.”

“How is that possible?”

“He was frustratingly sober before we flew out here and we were late and--”

“--Because I care about my liver. And you were still very uneven on your feet when you came downstairs, Scarlet,” Killian pointed out, earning himself a less-than-professional gesture. Robin put his head back down. “Where are you going with this?”

Will ran a hand over his face, a sharp inhale and far too much color in both of Belle’s cheeks. And, like, her forehead. That probably would have been impressive if she didn’t look far more serious about the murder threat than Emma had been.

“I forgot a pocket square,” Will explained.

Killian tilted his head. Phillip blinked no less than twelve times. “Wait, then...what is...”

“It’s mine,” Belle hissed, and Regina actually gasped. Before laughing. Uproariously. And drawing the attention of several other rows, curious glances and Emma’s hand flew to her mouth when she, presumably, figured it out.

“I don’t get it,” Killian admitted.

“Yeah, well, you’re drunk. And preoccupied with Emma. Which is probably for the best because--”

“--What did you make into a pocket square?” Phillip asked, a note of alcohol-fueled stubbornness in his voice. People kept giving them champagne. Back-to-back was very impressive.

Belle looked like she wanted to melt. If her face stayed that red, she might have. Only there was someone else talking –– someone official and Killian could hear other names being called and then Will’s name was being called, for a second time, because he’d won the goddamn Norris Trophy and the whole lot of them exploded into shouts and cheers and slightly shaky movements.

Emma’s arms wrapped around Killian’s middle when he stood up.

And for as difficult as it had been to see recently, Killian was certain he saw it all perfectly in that moment, Will taking measured steps towards the stage with a black pocket square sticking out of his jacket and--

“Is that lace on the edge?’

“Oh my God,” Belle sighed, head falling forward even as she continued to clap.

It only took him a few seconds into Scarlet’s acceptance speech to understand. “Holy shit,” Killian breathed, bringing Emma with him when he turned towards Belle.

“Do not.”

“But.”

“I swear to God, I will find a stick and check you in front of your pregnant fiancée. I won’t even hesitate.”

“I’m still very confused,” Phillip admitted, shuffling through the aisle when Killian waved him over. It was actually kind of difficult to say out loud. Particularly when Phillip almost fell over. “Shit, that’s--”

“--You too, Rook,” Belle said. “I will check you.”

Phillip saluted. “Message received.”

And there was no more mention of the pocket square – or what it was made of – for the rest of the night, all of them too busy posing with trophies and posing with each other, but then they were in a different room and Killian’s mouth was moving again and he was having a difficult time thinking when Emma kept arching her back like that.

“You know,” he said, dragging his lips against the inside of her thigh and hooking his thumb around fabric, “it was pretty ingenious.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“i’m just saying.”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s a paragon of creativity. How about we talk Scarlet’s inventions and the use of his girlfriend’s underwear after you get mine off, deal?’

Killian nipped at her leg. That got her to gasp. And arch her back again. He hadn’t had anymore to drink that night. “Absolutely, Swan.”

They looked at wedding stuff on the plane ride home. 

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hi loveys- I’m too tired to say much, traffic made a 2.5 hour drive over 4 hours. So, I’m sleeping! Thanks @emulateharry for the read!

Hinode-Chapter 8!

"You can't just drop a story like that and not preface it with, 'this one time I was at Mick Jagger's baby shower.'" Ada's face was open as morning windows on the first sunny day after rough weather. Harry loved it. "I need a warning that your aged doppelgänger is the feature of the story." He watched her throat work over a sip of her first glass of the new bottle.

"Mick doesn't like it when you mention his age." He picked up his, second? third? Glass of wine and inclined it at her. "Bit of a Peter Pan syndrome." He leaned in close to the lips he hadn't had the pleasure of since 10 am, 15 hours, not that he was counting, and stage whispered so she could feel it, "but don't tell him that."

"Yeah, next time I'm hanging with old Mick I'll be sure to mention his boyband protege thinks he has Peter Pan syndrome!" She laughed and he could feel that and taste the Pinot Noir on her breath. Right, now, her love of red wine made sense. But he'd had her pegged for Sauvignon Blanc. Something refreshing and that went down easy. He supposed now though it made sense she drank something with much more body. "But I think Peter Pan Syndrome gets handed out with spandex pants to would be rockstars. Though you seem to have missed the all call."

"I don't wear spandex!" He gave her a face fit for Liam, could feel the offense in his sneer. Well, he did to box, but under baggy shorts.

"Yet!" She poked his big huge dimple. "And don't knock it, Bowie and Mercury wore spandex." She cocked her raven head. "But you don't seem to want a neverland zip code..." She left it open.

"What do you mean?" He had a feeling he knew, but felt reluctant to answer. He liked the flirty conversation they'd been having, rambling from her making fun of his grandad socks and him asking her worst LA traffic story to him sharing about how he just caught himself from pushing Mick into the cake at his baby shower. He wondered when his legs would stop feeling too long for his body. He had no trouble sharing embarrassing stories, but, he liked white wine conversation. He shouldn't have been too surprised she wanted to talk about something deeper. He maybe just wasn't ready. At least when he was the subject. He wouldn't mind a view of her depths.

"I mean, you seem, shockingly mature for a quarter century old. I know you started young, but Jagger wasn't much older, and he's certainly still trying to grow oats to sow. You could definitely still be running wild, and excused for it I bet. With the dimples and the rambly speeches....."

"Um," he looked around. He needed to get into this, if all those fields he felt when she touched him were ever gonna he real. Harry never went to college, but this felt like the conversations his friends would talk about, the all night ones where people got vulnerable. So, the words stacked up like lemmings ready to jump, the slow ramble of an explanation. He'd want reciprocity. He hoped that this was a foundation, not just an amazing experience he would remember long past their expiration date. Like those conversations often were, he was given to understand. He gathered his courage around him like a baggy coat; he'd done way scarier things than talked, really talked, to a woman he could love. Harry, admittedly, sucked at communication, sometimes conversation. He was gonna do it anyway. "God, this will sound pretentious as fuck, but like, my mum always said I was an old soul with a young spirit." He sighed and leaned back with his glass. "When the band started we had a smorgasbord of bad choices all of a sudden. Maybe not, like, bad choices, but like too much too soon. Liam said it was like college on steroids, and it was. Girls everywhere, offering everything- even if they didn't know what it meant. And um, not that alcohol was brand new to any of us, but the party drugs around were."

He looked down from the wallpaper in her room he'd been focusing on, they'd been lounging in her living area, and he was sorry he'd given her the couch. He wanted to lie down. She nodded at him with a sympathetic brow, and reached out for his hand. That was better.

"There were some nights I woke up and really didn't know how I got back to my room. I think those stories were really funny for some of the other boys, but I hated the like, lack of control. The things people said I said." He shook his head and she squeezed his hand. "I love attention."

"No! You! An international pop star? Love attention?" He smiled gratefully at her attempt to lighten his heavy mood. He wasn't aware this bothered him so much anymore. He'd changed his life so much since then, because of then. "Well," he smiled back at her like a chevalier, "drunk 17 year old Harry really liked attention, and drunk 18 year old Harry really liked girls."

"Do you still like girls?" She fluttered her eyelashes he wondered if it was entirely on purpose. He hoped some of it was unconscious, just her animal brain liking his smell.

"Yeah, I just like fewer of them, and not exclusively. Mostly, I like women." He felt his lashes touch his cheek for a breath and then his eyebrows a couple heartbeats later.

"Good!" She loosened her grip on his hand and used the looser grip to caress him fingertips to elbow. Green light. He could totally shift gears here and wind up on the couch with her, on top of her. Some of the lessons of the lost year stuck, were useful. Or he could tell her the really useful one. How it changed his life. "Round about, honestly," big breath, "those two years are kinda a blur. But I was really pissed at myself for fucking up a performance. Bitching to my mum in my dressing room. And she had this long suffering face, occasionally it obliterates her compassion face. I realized I'd seen that face more than I liked around that time. When we got to talk, even on FaceTime when she called one morning and caught sight of a girl leaving for example. So I, all exasperated like, threw my hands up like a toddler on a store floor and asked what, and she just said, "maybe it's not the song's fault, but how you're treating your instrument.'" He laid his head back and felt her playing with his thinner rings, smiled when she pulled it over his knuckle and then back. "You can take it off." He was already emotionally naked here, his bare fingers couldn't be to shocking. He kept talking while she took off the rose ring, a favorite still in his heavy rotation, and put it on her thumb. He liked that. "Like a bratty 18 year old used to getting his way a bit, I think I asked her what she was on about and went back to bitching. But, I kept hearing it, and the next time I was out late, partying, before we had a big performance, I paid attention. The high notes, they were always hard for me."

"Awful lot on your solo album then." There was a question there he would come back to.

"Yeah, I stopped drinking before shows, which was most nights then, and got a vocal coach. And the girls...."

"The girls."

"Well mum hadn't given me that talking to yet. So that kept up a little while longer."

"But not into your seventies?" She pulled his rings up one by one, and then laced their fingers so that the naked borders between their hand and digits could match up. Then slid her hand away. He wanted to be touching. So he shifted over, planted himself on the couch instead. It was a touch big for two, but ample.

"Barely into my twenties."

"Were you just born middle aged, do you think?" Ada teased. He chuckled a little bit. She was good at this, letting him talk and think slow, distracting him, giving him light comments to his thick words and touching him. Always the physical connection. It kept words flowing and him comfortable in vulnerable moments.

That had been working since day one on set. Ada had the magic touch. He wondered if that was just for him or others too? He wanted it to be his. Harry wasn't normally possessive he didn't think. But he did feel covetous of her attention and touch, her secrets.

Harry took off all his rings then, and layered them up on her hands and pulled them forward, kissed her knuckles. "Maybe not middle aged, but a little ahead of the curve maybe?"

"Is it cuz you had to take care of your mom, do you think?" She wasn't making eye contact on that question. Oh.

"She never asked me to take care of her." He shook his head, she wouldn't like that, his mum. If he had grown up so fast because of her being alone. If it was cuz she unknowingly asked it of him. It wasn't exactly true. But it was a little, and maybe more for Ada.

"No, they don't have to ask."

"You just did?" Harry asked.

"She was just so." He squeezed the hands he still held. "Sad."

"Yeah, and lonely." He supplied.

"But I didn't let her be alone." Ada's eyes were a tiny bit slick. His might've been too.

"I never let her be alone, and I hope I never made her feel guilty for being lonely, with me there." Harry wondered about that. He had eavesdropped a conversation, just before his mum found Robin, about how guilty each date made her feel. He'd stopped pouting when she went out then. He hoped it made her more open when she met his step dad. A tiny contribution to their story.

"Oh, I know I made her feel bad. I remember screaming one time, in my angsty Ophelia stage- 'why do you care about him so much? I'm here!'" She shook her head.

"But, it's different." He said it as gently as possible.

"She deserved a partner, and I...."

"We're not supposed to be their partners, just their kids, babies, they feel guilty if we take too much emotional responsibility."

"And I was pissed at him, but when I did see him, I couldn't be a little bitch, or I was afraid I'd never see him again." She inclined her head.

"But she wasn't going away. So she got the brunt of your teenage angst." She was nodding, he supplying the hardest truths for her. She nodded back and her serious brow cracked his heart for her to crawl in a little deeper. They held hands a minute longer, and Ada sat back, so their shoulders touched, and they could only keep holding one hand.

"Were you an angst boy ever, locked away in an upstairs room, is that where the sad wanks started?" He could tell she missed their banter. Needed a fiver from the tough stuff. He did too, but he really liked knowing her better. It made the estrangement he had sensed she pursued from Garner make sense. Harry had found plenty of industry men who were astoundingly successful at what they did, but had a trail of broken relationships behind them. Harry didn't know Garner well enough to know that about him, and he intended to be around Ada long enough to know all of it. He expected he was going to give Garner the stink eye every time they were near each other and have trouble stopping form now on. He would let her change the subject though, so long as they kept talking.

"I don't think the wanks were sad in those days. Exuberant, maybe enthusiastic, those are better words." Her smile had started on exuberant and she was all out laughing at him though he was giggling away too by enthusiastic.

"I bet! I remember what you looked like at 16 and I can't imagine you crying and coming with that fluffy hair and those huge cheeks!"

"Hey! My cheeks weren't huge! They were normal sized." He wanted to pounce on her, show her a wank. But, he felt like they'd gone someplace she wasn't used to, maybe that was more uncomfortable to her than nudity, he didn't want her to bolt. He knew if it got physical as well, it may never happen again. Instinctively he knew, tonight would make them fragile in the short term, viable in the long term. If he went there, where part of him was desperate to go, on the heels off their disclosures, It would give her all the excuse she needed to keep it there. He'd never get below the surface again. So, he didn't tickle, or pick her up and drape her across himself, did nothing more than lace their fingers like a seam together. God knew he wanted to stitch other parts of him to her.

It just wasn't all he wanted.

She was pointing at him, so he caught her finger and bit the tip playfully. Her eyes widened and then her pupils flared. But before she leaned in and made the offer, one he couldn't refuse, he said "Since you like to be mean and make fun of people, let's see you at 16!"

"Um, no!" She shook her head. Her hair hitting her cheeks a foreign feeling so late at night, or early in the morning. If he wasn't here, her hair would be wrapped up already, but she was trying to be cute. Not scare the white boy. If he stayed, she'd have to re press it tomorrow and they were to travel all day. It would be worth it. But that last segue, and their companionable positions indicated that may not happen. Not yet. A compromising position would get her out of this uncomfortable one though.

Ada was disappointed by the change in directions, she finally thought they might get bare in a way more familiar for her. She'd much rather be in bed with him than talking about her dad, however obliquely. And showing him a picture of her in her very serious alt girl phase was not happening. Awkward very high ponytail, because her mom still wasn't exactly sure how to do her long hair, her hair at all. Ada has learned in college from the new friends she made how to manage her own hair.

She was alright in her teen years, same bone structure and features. But she took herself very seriously those days. Painfully earnest. It would be embarrassing. The clothes, all those ripped tights and midi skirts and flannels. She thought she may even have some vinyl with safety pins recorded for posterity. Yikes! Though she'd seen some very good facsimiles of her own teenage look when they were shooting in harajuku. It still made her cheeks burn. Could she?

"No way, unfair, I am sure you have seen some god awful pictures of me." He grabbed his phone and she was sad they were not touching anymore. It looked like she was not getting dick tonight. His moves were not getting laid ones. She'd be damned if she made the first move. Well, the first time. After that he better be careful when they were alone and away from set.

She was glad they'd tackled that subject first, when the wine was breathing. They were gonna be professional, and never alone. They had agreed to be realistic about their attraction level, so no face time without a chaperone, like an Austen film, or they both assumed they'd be sucking face. Tonight was almost confusing in its modesty. Only their conversation kept their clothes on. It had been awhile since she'd wanted somebody, longer since she'd been wanted. It was wonderful. Ada was gonna hold onto it. She was sure it would be wiped out if he saw a picture of her at 16.

And then he pulled a post on tumblr, of all fucking places, and showed her a smattering or horrible outfits ranging from ill fitting trainers and trousers to a Miley Cyrus costume.

"You make a credible Miley!" She didn't even pretend to not be laughing at him.

"I know! She even said so." He laughed and god, was it weird to want to put whipped cream in his dimples to suck out? Probably. She was gonna ask if she could whenever they broke the seal anyway. "That was when I fell in love with Tokyo. I decided that I wanted to wear the fleshy pants and they were all too easy to acquire."

"Yes, Japan has an underbelly."

"A sexy underbelly?" He pointed at his long pale torso.

"You are so white! God, I thought you liked fake tanner that year, you look paler than her in the picture."

"It's just the lighting." Oh, big lip. She pulled it. He was right, there were some gems on the internet of him. Why he ever, even at 14, wore that Caesar cut. A tragedy for his curls. She fluffed them to assure herself of their presence and that she could. He leaned into her hand and all Ada could think was why not.

"Hold on." She thought there was one Mia had tagged her in, though it killed her, because it was just so chock full of nostalgia. She was pretty sure she had it on Facebook. Way to show her age, lot even Instagram. It didn't take long, she was so inactive it was not far down her feed. But there she was in all her 15 year old glory. Her jeans were baggy and her top was cropped and her hair was high. They'd been at Magic Mountain she thought, those long days that felt like being grown up until you really were. Roaming a place without direct supervision. She'd insisted on her boots that day, though her mom had repeatedly said they weren't walking shoes. By dusk, she'd had to buy band aids.

The memories were crystal clear, and made her smile. She thought maybe she'd had her first kiss that night, some boy from the 213 she exchanged numbers with. Never spoke to again, not even via phone.

"You look at this, remember it's in solidarity with your bowl cut, and then forget it." She'd narrowed her eyes at him and he'd nodded fervently. Then bit his lip when he saw the picture. She assumed to stop the laugh from escaping.

"You are laughing at me!" She was laughing too. How horrified her younger self would be. Ada was very serious at that age, especially about herself.

"I'm not, I'm not. You're so cute!" They were both giggling away and Ada was trying to wrestle her phone back from him.

"Give me the phone, Styles!" She hopes the neighbors were deeply asleep and that the walls were thick in the hotel. "And remember your promise. You are immediately forgetting this."

"Nope, I'll never forget it. Not even if I tried." He was cackling, a wheezy laugh opened by a snort that made her laugh harder. Like those pre teen moments in her bedroom when a friend's snort set everybody rolling again. Their roving conversation and active flirt was everything, obliterated boundaries. So much so that she was straddling him trying to reach deep behind him where he had stashed her phone. She had both hands working now. It was when she felt the distinct crack of his muscular ass that she realized her phone wasnt in his shorts, but her fingers definitely were.

Her eyes came up to his and he still looked brimming with mirth, though his pupils were big and his smile was a smirk. He wiggled her phone with his right hand. "Looking for this? Or have you found your target?"he flashed his eyebrows at her.

Ada pulled her hands free, but left them on his shoulders and sat back on her haunches. Silencing that little voice that hoped his legs would bear her weight harshly. "Um," she wondered if the brightness that was her blush was as obvious to him as it was to her. "Sorry?"

"No worries. Any time you would like to stick your hands down my pants, let me know." She watched the indecision cross his mind. Ada might be getting her way with him. She was sure of it for a nanosecond, and found herself sad. That didn't seem the right way to end this night. Though she didn't know of a better sleep aid than orgasm.

Half of her wanted him to go for it, desperately, the other half, really hoped they had this night, that felt so much like a third date rather than a first, for itself. And the things they showed were their fears and not their body parts. Then his eyes settled and her heart slowed, beat in time with his.

"It's good we travel tomorrow, so I don't have such an early call time. It's late." Ada nodded, still perched on his lap, her hands full of his shoulders and her nostrils his leather and man scent.

"It is, you'd be able to carry a vacation's worth of things in your eye bags tomorrow. When we get to Kyushu, get a treatment on the production to fix that. You have to look your best!" He rolled his eyes at her gentle ribbing and put his hands on her hips. He pulled her into him, and they kissed for the first time all night. It was languid, and Ada felt the tension in her released and reintroduced like her desire was pulled taffy. Rolled over itself and then pulled taught.

He tasted like the wine and long nights rising to early morning, and she was going to lick in for a deeper taste, maybe get the cherries and blackberries the Pinot carried on the palate too, bright orchards in the sun too, when he sat back on the couch and looked at her.

"I want to stay." Ada started to talk, and he barely placed his long ringed index finger against her pouted lips. "But I think tonight was perfect as is."

Ada knew she was nodding. She agreed, despite herself.

"But next time," he caught her eye and the heat there singed her eyebrows, "you and I are in a room alone together so late at night, I'll be hard-" he emphasized the word with a tiny lift of his hips. "Pressed to find the gentleman within me." And he leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss capped with a tiny bite to her fuller bottom lip.

Ada was dazed as he helped her off his lap. She knew she followed him to door, that she leaned against it to stay on her feet despite her weakened knees. He didn't kiss her there, and she didn't even wonder why. He'd already left quite the impression on her mouth, his taste was on her tongue where she had licked them.

"I'll see you when we get there? We have most of the whole place, around the onsen you wanted?"

She'd nodded, cleared her throat. "Ye-yeah. We have the whole place. The crew and cast. Tomorrow evening there are no events, no shooting, so everybody can go in the hot springs."

"I can't wait to see you in the hot springs." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, smoothed a loose piece of hair back. Her hair would curl up insanely in that steam. She was surprised his sentence didn't remind it it was a ringlet.

"Yeah, bet you look good slick and wet." She bugged her eyes. That was a thought not to be shared that she'd been having. Since she chose the location, if she was entirely honest.

"Too bad they aren't private." He raised brow.

"My room is supposed to have a private bath. With the spring water piped in."

"Mine too. Guess we will have to try both." He chucked her chin and left her standing there staring after him, wishing the next 24 hours away, and wondering where the bumbling boy who fell on her went. He'd been annoying but much less dangerous than the confident man who just walked away. Maybe he wasn't Mick's doppelgänger, but had one of his own. She yawned over that thought and skipped her night time routine assuming she'd just make up for it in the morning.

The next day, she nearly missed their flight. It had taken her ages, despite all the wine, to fall asleep. And she'd woken up from hot dreams to sweat dripping visions of a wet Harry. Maybe he should have stayed. Then she might have been able to sleep, or have a better reason to be awake.

She also left her phone charger in her room, and was worried she wouldn't be able to find one on Kyushu. It was Japan, there would still be electronics available everywhere, right?

They were delayed, and short a vehicle, and lots of logistics were in disarray. She had tons of moles to whack all day. Nothing seems to be going right.

By the time they got everybody checked in and squared away, Ada was dreaming of her private bath, without Harry in it, she was so tired. And she could carry his expansive wardrobe in her eye bags.

But she didn't have a room or private bath at all.

"What do you mean there is no room for Ada Scott?" She was trying not to be the screaming rude American, but who the fuck didn't get her a room? They were fired!

The lady at the counter was quietly explaining they were full, but that everybody on property was with the same group, maybe she could share.

"I don't want to share." Oh, she'd lost control and was whining. "I want my private bath and a bed to myself!" That's what she needed dammit. Deserved after a long day on little sleep with no dick and single kiss to obsess over.

A hand slipped around her waist, hooked into her belt loops, a body smoothed up her back. Ada looked down to see a cross and rose. "I don't know how private my bath would be, but you can have it, but there will be no bed to yourself."

[iamwhelmed]

Homesick: Chapter 6

A huge thanks to @westernfan1 for beta reading this for me! You’re the man! I was NOT ready to write this chapter, but this is what I get for not writing out the story’s skeleton first.

Read it on AO3

Read it on Fanfiction.net

Cyborg hummed as he opened his arm, started the process of inputting the codes that would activate Raven's tracking device remotely. He paused before he pressed send, muling over it before he said anything. "Robin, they made us promise not to-"

"I don't care what we promised!" Robin swung his arm out, as if to be sure everyone was keeping their distance. "Raven's in trouble! I'm not just going to stand here! We're tracking them and that's final!" Cyborg shook his head, but activated Raven's tracker.

Beast Boy, who'd been still as stone by the puddle of dried blood, pressed off the ground to stand. Terra followed him, unsure that he could, properly. He brushed her hand off. "I'm with Robin. If Raven's hurt, I'm going to find her." Terra slid around in front of him.

"Beast Boy?"

He shook his head, and she would have said more, but she didn't, because his eyes told her all she needed to know. They were set, nearly primal, more mature than the Beast Boy she'd known, though just as determined as he'd always been. His fists clenched at his sides, and he stood taller than she remembered. He was looking at her, but she knew he wasn't seeing her. "I'm not losing her…"

Maybe she'd known, even when they'd had a thing, even when he'd spent his time drooling over her at training sessions and over pizza (she could remember playfully chiding him as his saliva covered her plate "Ew, BB!"). Maybe she'd known after her first return, when she'd catch Raven stealing glances at him, when she'd see Beast Boy looking right past her shoulder. Maybe she'd known for a long time. And she had known, always knew it factored into why Raven hadn't trusted her, always knew Beast Boy's attention was fleeting, because his affections were never hers, not really. She'd seen it since joining the Titans a third time. Beast Boy had been himself, mostly, and he played video games with her and whined when she took Cyborg's side in a stankball match, but he hadn't flirted with her since she'd come home, still told her she was awesome but the hearts in his eyes were gone. When they went a few moments without talking, when they sat in silence skipping stones off the island, she could see he was still missing somebody. That somebody wasn't her, not anymore. She'd figured.

Terra smiled, reached forward and pressed her hand to his fist, lightly pulling so he unwound. "You're right, you won't," she squeezed his hand. "Let's go find your girl." He smiled back at her.

Robin flipped open his communicator. "They're at Jump City Hospital. Let's hope Red X didn't follow them." He punched his palm, the Robin Signal that told them somebody was rearing to get hurt. "Titans! Go!"

It'd been a few minutes, not a long time, but it felt like an eternity to Starfire. She paced outside the emergency room entrance, wearing a ditch in the sidewalk. She was sure somebody would make her stop, eventually, but she would burn through the soles of her shoes before she stopped worrying. Was this normal for pregnant women on this planet? The baby wasn't due for another six months, correct? She shook her head. Raven had been fine leading up to tonight, perfectly healthy, if maybe sad, but they both were. That was okay, they had each other. But what if she'd missed something? What if there'd been signs that she hadn't known to look out for? Had she failed Raven? Her heart sank into her stomach.

The doors opened, and Red X sauntered out despite the wary eyes of the hospital security. "Hey, Red, it's been fun, but I'm gonna head ou-" Starfire raised a starbolt to his face, and he raised his hands in defense.

"You thought I would forget that you had taken that which is not yours?"

A single bead of sweat rolled down his head. "Uh, kinda?" He took it out of his pocket and swung it around his finger. "Look, I'm just gonna hold onto it. Ya know, as a reward for being a good samaritan."

Starfire glared at him, but her starbolt faded. He watched with interest as her arm retreated to her side. "Got your powers back?"

"How did you-?" Red X stared back. She sighed. "No, it is merely the excitement of all of this, of Friend Raven getting hurt, of you helping us despite our numerous hostile interactions of the past?" Starfire brushed her arm with one hand, hoping to ease the bumps of goose. She wanted nothing more than to be at home in the tower, curled up under a blanket, waking up to Cyborg and Beast Boy's arguments over what foods to serve at breakfast. She longed for the familiarity. Right now she felt so out of place, like the motel room was any less a place to rest without Raven (it was, it was), like she couldn't get her thoughts together, like she was the only one feeling like her mind was about to fulminate. The momentary bliss of Red X's assistance, the joy of feeling once again like she and Raven had someone else to rely on, faded. He was an enemy, and he was leaving, and she was going to be alone again. "I wanted to thank you for your effort in assisting Raven and I. It was… kind of you."

Red X shrugged, slyly (they both knew she saw it) sticking the jewel back into his pocket. "Don't mention it. And I mean really," his voice dropped "don't mention it."

Starfire offered him a small smile. "Now go, before I can do the changing of my mind."

He seemed surprised, but he ducked back into the shadows of the early morning. "I'll be seeing you later, Red." He turned around, and she sighed. "Oh, and one more thing?" He glanced over his shoulder at her. "You should probably tell your little friends the truth. They don't look too happy." He leaped away, leaving Starfire to raise an eyebrow. What did he-?

"Starfire!"

Her heart did a somersault between her ribs, because she knew that voice. She'd missed that voice. She whipped around and he was right there, clear as day even in the darkness of 3am in Jump City. Robin, followed by the rest of the Teen Titans, eyes wide, running to her like she was the first drink of water he'd gotten in weeks. Her cheeks flushed. "Robin!" She'd missed him, missed him so badly. She wanted to cry, wanted to fly into him and swing around and feel his steady dependable hands on her. She wanted to hear him laugh, wanted him to rest his head against hers like she'd never left in the first place. But that girl was still here, not far behind him, and so Starfire blushed, but she pressed that heat down and down and down until it was buried under reality.

He skidded to a halt a few feet in front of her, and she could tell he knew that this reunion did not mean the end of this, whatever had been going on. Terra rushed forward and crushed Starfire in a hug, which she was glad to return, though she found she didn't have the strength to return the affection in full capacity. "Starfire! It's been forever!"

"Terra, you are back!"

Terra released her after a moment, stepping back to let Robin interrogate the way only Robin could. That said, he seemed unsure as their eyes met for the first time in months. "Starfire! Where's Raven?"

"She is inside. The doctors are finding what is wrong."

"Wait," Beast Boy approached, not far behind Robin and Terra. "You mean Red X didn't go all stabby stabby?"

Starfire tilted her head. "Stabby stabby? You mean you thought that he had done the puncturing of her with a sharp object, yes?" She shook her head. "That is not what happened. Red X was assisting us."

"Really?" Cyborg raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms. "Red X? Mister Mysterious only-out-to-help-himself Red X?"

"Why would he help you, what happened? Why is she bleeding?" Her heart skipped a beat, not because it was happy, but because pain seized it like a kebab, sifting straight through with the sharpness of an arrow. The girl from Robin's bed had spoken, was waiting for an answer. Starfire met her inquisitive eyes with a wounded gaze. She bulked. "Oh! Right, sorry, I'm Batgirl."

"I see…"

"Robin's friend."

"Yes," Starfire looked to Robin "I am aware."

Robin seemed perplexed by her tone, as it betrayed the neutral stance she'd held earlier, but he glossed over it. "Okay. Star? Wanna tell us what's really been going on?"

You should probably tell your little friends the truth. Starfire winced. "I am unsure if Raven would be willing to divulge such information." It wasn't her news to share, was it? A negative part of her mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like her sister, mocked her hesitation. Why are you so worried? She probably lost the baby anyway. She shook her head to rid herself of such vile thoughts. Raven would be fine. The baby would be fine. "I am sorry."

"Starfire," Robin placed a hand on her shoulder "We're a little passed secrets now." He nodded to the emergency room. She swallowed hard and glanced at the other titans, at Beast Boy, who looked about ready to melt into a very green, vibrating mess of goo with the way his entire body seemed to tremble. He was scared, scared for his lover, for the girl who hid from him for three months, and he didn't even know why. She bit the inside of her cheek. Robin was right. She closed her eyes and solemnly nodded. Robin took a step back as the rest of the team inched closer.

"Friends," she hoped Raven would forgive her "Friend Raven is with child, and we fear it has been lost."

The group fell silent. She didn't look at any of them. She didn't want to see them process three month's worth of secrets only for it to collapse at the end. It was too soon to be sure, of course, but there'd been so much blood. Starfire cringed. Her cape, a patch had been a deep violet by the time they'd reached the hospital. Her hands clasped together in front of her, squeezing the life out of each other as she wrung them. It was over now, they knew. They all did.

"Um," Beast Boy, Starfire could hear the tremble in his voice, and it killed her. "Was it… do you know if it was- if it is?-" Starfire didn't meet his eyes, but she nodded.

"There was no other man Raven had welcomed into her bed."

There was a choking sound, and she could tell that he was crying, or about to be. He seemed to grow quiet. Nobody else made a sound. Starfire felt her own eyes welling with tears. She'd been worried, so, so worried, and Red X's calm had made it better somehow, because he was detached. It hadn't felt real. But standing in front of her friends, hearing Beast Boy's stifled sobs, reality once again played the part of a cruel sadist, and she could do nothing but watch.

Robin exhaled. "Do we know for sure that it's-?"

"No," she bit her lip, but the tears were already coming, and she didn't have the energy to repress them. "But there was so much blood, and she could hardly breath and- and-!" She covered her mouth with both hands, trying to muffle the sound at the very least.

"Hey," there was a hand at her shoulder, and she found big beautiful blue eyes staring right into her, non judgemental, just full of pity. "We don't know that she's lost the baby yet, okay? There's lots of reasons she could have bled like that, especially if you're dealing with DNA like Beast Boy's. Ask Miss Martian! I still don't think SuperBoy's recovered from that whole mess."

Starfire wiped at her eyes. "You are certain?"

Batgirl chuckled under her breath "Uh, maybe not certain per-say, but I wouldn't give up hope just yet!" Cyborg placed a hand on Beast Boy's shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. Beast Boy shut his eyes and nodded. There was another hand on Starfire's other arm, pressing against her, squeezing her gently. Robin. He gave her a small smile, the one she'd held onto dearly in memory for all the months she'd been away.

"Let's all get to the waiting room. When Raven wakes up, we're gonna wanna be there."

Beast Boy sat with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands. He hadn't moved in the last fifteen minutes, not that anybody expected him to. Terra and Cyborg sat to either side of him, Terra rubbing soothing circles into his back as Cyborg flipped through one of the several-year-old magazines, occasionally peeking over to check on Beast Boy. Starfire sat across from Beast Boy, snug between Robin's and Batgirl's seats (though Batgirl had wandered off with everybody's orders to grab snacks from the vending machine). It was every bit as uncomfortable as she'd worried it'd be, but she saw no excuse she could take to switch to a different seat- one on the other side, maybe next to Cyborg. She wrung her hands again, and Robin watched her.

The door to the waiting room opened. Everybody turned.

It was only Batgirl, pushing the door open with one foot as she cradled a haul of sweets, snacks, and sodas in her arms. She grunted and awkwardly pressed into the room. "Could I- ugh- get some help here?" Cyborg set down the magazine and made his way over, holding the door open for her as she waddled in. She dropped the full variety on the table, wiping her brow of nonexistent sweat. "Phew! Thought for sure I was gonna lose Terra's hot fries."

Terra lunged for the bag, ripping it open with a smile and a hardly audible thanks to Barbara. Robin grinned and reached for the potato chips, popping one into his mouth before saying "Thanks, Batgirl!"

"Don't mention it. Least I could do for you guys after you let me crash at the tower the last few months."

Starfire didn't reach to pick up a sweet dessert or a salty snack, and neither did Beast Boy, who had done little but move his hand to glance at the full table before stuffing his face right back into his fingers. She felt him, knew that the anticipation was killing him, was killing all of them, but she was still glad for the company. She'd missed all of them, missed this comradery. Missed what it felt like to be larger than just two people. They knew now, there was no more hiding, no more panicking about someone finding out.

But what would happen now? Would she and Raven return to the motel? Well, that may depend on whether or not they lost the baby. If they did, if all that blood had been as bad as she thought it'd been, she feared for Raven's relationship with Beast Boy, feared it would have been better if she'd never told any of them, then they could return home and only they would have known about Raven's loss. Now? Beast Boy may require the space, as would Raven, and in that case Raven may be too mad at her to share this newfound space together again. Then she'd be truly alone, unable to return home, and Raven would isolate herself from all of her friends once more (she thought of a white room and a white robe and red eyes). She wrung her hands.

But if the baby hadn't been lost? There was no way Beast Boy would let her go again, not knowing now that she was carrying his child. He'd want her to return to the tower, which meant Starfire would probably follow (because, honestly, she'd had space, she knew what she wanted to say to Robin, she was just terrified because she loved him, she loved him so much and-!); she wrung her hands. She didn't know if she could handle any of the potential ends of this situation. She was scared, scared the way she'd been when she'd sat on the bathroom floor of the tower with Raven all those months ago, trying to talk her out of leaving. There was a gloved hand on her own. "Starfire?"

She gasped, ceasing in her ministrations. Robin watched her with consideration. "Star, you're going to break your hands." Her brow furrowed, and she glanced down to find that her hands were, indeed, red with some bruising at her knuckles where she pressed the hardest. They hurt now that she was looking at them, but she hadn't felt anything earlier. She frowned. "Starfire, Raven's going to be fine. She's a fighter, you know that." She could hear Beast Boy letting out a sobering breath, and see Terra leaning her head against his as he slumped forward even further.

Raven was not the only thing she was worried about, but she'd let Robin believe that. "Yes, she is the fighter."

She thought he'd move his hand, but he didn't. He twisted her wrist instead, slowly turning her palm around so he could lace his fingers through hers. Her brain, the part that remembered talking to Raven earlier, it told her that she needed to move that hand, rip it away from him because he'd betrayed her, but she yearned for his touch, and found herself too weak to fight him.

There was a bag of cookies in front of her face, and she turned to see Batgirl offering them up with a smile. "C'mon, ya look like death. You eaten anything?"

"Only the breakfast of small cereal boxes and bountiful breads."

"Continental breakfast?"

"Yes, that."

Batgirl shook the bag in front of her face, and she took it with her free hand. Robin smiled, and she could see Batgirl watching him on her other side. She is not the nasty wrecker of homes that I had thought she was… perhaps I was correct, and Robin truly does carry the feelings of love for her? She closed her eyes and let a shaking breath cross her nose.

The door opened again, and this time a doctor strolled in, clipboard in hand. He stood on the taller side, though there was a curve in his back that must have come from age, going by the lines that framed his smile. Glasses, thick and rectangular, sat on his nose, but his grey eyes were still very visible, and very kind. Beast Boy shot out of his seat, Starfire and Robin not far behind him. The doctor smiled at them, not the kind of smile Starfire associated with bad news. "Teen Titans, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Robin stepped forward and shook his hand. "Ya know, you all saved my little girl once from that nasty oozing guy. The one with all the green?"

"Plasmus?" Robin offered.

"Yes, that guy." The doctor cleared his throat, adjusted the clipboard so it rested under his arm. "Anyway, no need to worry about your friend. She's perfectly safe and healthy, they both are."

Beast Boy tensed, and the rest of the titans stood up. "Does that mean…?"

The good doctor's smile only widened. "The baby is fine, though she'll want to go easy on using her powers. According to the tests we ran, the amount of stress it puts onto her body is-" Beast Boy was out the door, faster than any of them could blink, leaving a gust of wind to trail behind him. It nearly knocked the doctor off his feet, and thoroughly ruined the hair days of all three present super-ladies. Robin adjusted his mask back into place and the doctor adjusted his glasses. "I take it he's the father?"

"How'd ya guess."

"Very good, then" he went around, shaking the hands of the remaining titans. "My name is Doctor Thompkins. Please, if you have any other questions, do give me a call."

"Wait," Batgirl raised a hand. "Doctor Thompkins? Are you… related to a woman named Leslie by any chance?"

His eyes lit up. "Why, yes! My dear cousin Leslie! I do hope she's doing well. How do you know her?"

Robin and Batgirl blanched, skin going deathly pale. "Uhh-"

"Saved her a few times-"

"Dropped a few patients in her care-"

"You know how it is?"

He blinked. Robin grew concerned he hadn't bought their fib. Then he laughed and shook his head, turning around to leave. "Oh Leslie, Leslie, Leslie, always had a deathwish living in Gotham, that one…" The door shut behind him.

Cyborg raised an eyebrow. "Y'all wanna tell us what that was about?"

Batgirl nervously grinned and Robin shook his head. "Later. Let's go check up on Raven."

[johnnymundano]

Slasher Season 1: The Executioner (2016)

Directed by Craig David Wallace

Written by Aaron Martin

Music by Shawn Pierce

Country: Canada

Language: English

8 Episodes of around 46 – 53 minutes each

CAST

Katie McGrath as Sarah Bennett

Brandon Jay McLaren as Dylan Bennett

Steve Byers as Cam Henry

Patrick Garrow as Tom Winston

Dean McDermott as Iain Vaughn

Christopher Jacot as Robin Turner

Wendy Crewson as Brenda Merrit

Jessica Sipos as June Henry

Mary Walsh as Verna McBride

Enuka Okuma as Lisa Ann Follows

Erin Karpluk as Heather Peterson

Mayko Nguyen as Alison Sutherland

Rob Stewart as Alan Henry

Jefferson Brown as Trent McBride

Mark Ghanimé as Justin Faysal

Dylan Taylor as Bryan Ingram

Alysa King as Rachel Ingram

Victoria Snow as Sonja Edwards

Hannah Endicott-Douglas as Ariel Peterson

Shawn Ahmed as Sharma

Booth Savage as Ronald Edwards

Susannah Hoffman as Marjorie Travers

(Guilty Party: I took the images from IMDB because I can’t screengrab over 8 hours and besides, my dog told me to.)

Slasher: The Executioner is a Canadian TV series about, um, slashers and all that slasher stuff. Bogling about The Internet I discovered that the creator, one Aaron Martin by name, has wisely opted for an anthology format, whereby each season (two at present) is a complete storyline. Apparently there is connective tissue between each season  to engender a feel of them taking place in the same Slasher Universe; which is like the Marvel®©™ Universe but with less quips and more mom porn and severed hands. I say “apparently” because I haven’t seen the second season (Slasher: Guilty Party (2017)) I have seen the first season though and that definitely has more mom porn and severed hands than the Marvel®©™ Cinematic Universe.

Now, if you’re reading this thing which is about a TV show called Slasher, then you might think you like slasher movies, but do you like slasher movies enough to watch what is effectively a 7 hour and change slasher movie? Do you? Huh? Huh? That’s a normal working day right there. You are right to be hesitant, as that doesn’t sound like it would work, at least not as entertainment, maybe as a kind of torture. The usual slasher movie is a timidly formulaic creature, so we can characterise the average slasher movie as starting with a brief kill, then some flopping bonelessly about with a solid hour of “meet the characters”, then 40 minutes or so of mayhem, climaxing with a one on one slobberknocker. Stick to that formula for 8 episodes and you’d end up (NB: the maths is a bit loose here) with an exciting first episode, 5.5 episodes of dishwater dull soap-operatics and then an insanely violent final 1.5 episodes. That would of course be stupid, which is one of roughly a billion reasons why they didn’t ask me to make it. No, they asked Aaron Martin and the Slasher gods should be thankful that Aaron Martin knew what to do.

A nagging sense of fairness demands I should pause to note that hundreds of people were involved in the making of Slasher: The Executioner, but it’s accepted shorthand to say “Aaron Martin…” So, “Aaron Martin” made a long-ass slasher movie, but realising this was a marathon and not a sprint, structured each episode so that it worked within the larger narrative framework. It’s an approach familiar to anyone who read mainstream comics back when they had actual stories (rather than today’s unending conversations punctuated by punching; Calm down, Cochise, I’m not saying they were better back then (most of anything is shit after all), I’m just saying they were different). In effect then, for all the none old timey comics fans: in Slasher: The Executioner the uberplot chugs along while various subplots intertwine beneath it breeding red herrings, developing character and basically raising the stakes until uber and under finally intertwine in a climactic crescendo. Oh, and there is at least one kill every episode to keep your unhealthy interest piqued. Got to have those sweet, sweet kills. It is called Slasher after all, not Magic Picnic Time With The Dancing Rainbow Babies. Those dismissive of the slasher movie (Hi, mom!) often underestimate the variety of slasher movies; they aren’t all set in a holiday camp for randy morons on Prom Night one Halloween which is coincidentally, and impossibly, also Friday the 13th. No, there is also Cherry Falls (2000) and, oh, My Bloody Valentine (2009) and, er, anyway, probably some others. This type being The Small Town Terrorised by Its Past slasher, as it is more commonly known. This is the template which Slasher: The Executioner favours most. (The Internet Elves tell me Slasher: Guilty Party riffs on The Holiday Death Camp template).

Events kick off with the present day return of pleasant, newlywed young artist Sarah Bennett (née Ingram) to Waterbury, where she was born on Halloween night in 1988, when a masked killer cut her from the womb of her mother, Rachel. Rachel’s husband, Bryan, had died about ten seconds earlier from a frenzied knife-torso interaction, leaving nobody to hand out candy to the trick or treaters except the killer, The Executioner, who docilely awaited the police cradling the bloody new-born in his arms. It’s fair to say Sarah has issues with Waterbury, and as her arrival coincides with  the start of a spate of copycat Executioner killings, Waterbury has issues with Sarah. And it’s this business that occupies your eyes and ears for the bulk of the 8 episodes. I mean, that was some spoilertastic stuff back there, yeah? But get this…that was only the opening 10 minutes; there’s plenty of unspoiled stuff and, hey, maybe those first 10 minutes I just got spoil all over aren’t all as they initially appear? That is a distinct possibility. Yes it is.

What then unfolds over the televisually paced course of Slasher: The Executioner’s 8 episodes is slashtastically fun stuff. Pretty much everything you expect in a slasher movie happens, because that predictability is part of the fun of a slasher movie. Crucially, however, some stuff you don’t expect to happen in a slasher movie also happens, which is part of the fun of a good slasher movie. A good slasher movie has to both cater to and exceed expectations, and Slasher: the Executioner is a pretty good slasher movie despite its arse-numbing running time.  But then only a glutton would gulp it down one go; Slasher: The Executioner is most rewarding when taken episodically; which is kind of why they made it like that, I guess. With a gap between each episode you can ruminate and ratiocinate in an attempt to understand the motivations, unearth the clues and unmask the killer. Although, good luck with that; the identity of the killer may be easy to guess (it’s [Redacted]!) but it’s a lot less easy to back it up with clues and evidence. It’s more a case of “It’s [Redacted]” because it has to be, rather than you have been perceptive enough to amass an evidence trail suitable for a Court of Law. But then slasher maniacs rarely see the inside of a Court of Law, so going with your gut is okay in this context.

The cast though? I mean, you’re going to be spending a lot of time with these people and given the nature of the beast some of them are going to have to surprise you with who they really turn out to be. Happily, everyone in Slasher: The Executioner is far better at this acting lark than the usual cast of a slasher movie. It probably helps that unlike most slasher movies the cast is portraying adults rather than the more usual teenagers. Feeelingzzzz aside, adult life is a lot more complex than teenage life, so there’s a lot more scope for surprise behaviour wise. And adults by definition have lived longer than teenagers so they have an actual past which could, maybe, be full of misdeeds and tragedy. That kind of thing would be pretty helpful were you trying to fill about 8 hours of screentime, yeah? Yeah, it totally would. As Sarah, Katie McGrath is maybe a bit of a milksop but this, to be fair, pays off later with a major change in attitude, and also in her defence she is mostly on the backfoot as surprises and violence tend to single her out. And she certainly rallies herself with an impressively sad ferocity come the bloody climax. Brandon Jay McLaren as her life partner convinces as a man too nice to be true, but who just might come through. The killer is great and clearly having a fun time, but their performance becomes a real humdinger once the reveal hits and the pretence can be dropped (in front of the viewer at least). Lots of actors, lots of performances and all of them are lots of fun. Some are more fun than others, but saying more would splash spoil all over the place. In a town this big there might be more than one mystery, is all i’m saying.

Slasher: The Executioner is overwrought, it’s daft, it’s violent, it’s rarely dull and it successfully stretches your suspension of disbelief like so much Silly Putty. Pretty much a dreamy slasher experience all in all. Of course many a long form TV show comes a cropper when it has to deliver a definite ending. But rest easy, the end of Slasher: The Executioner doesn’t reveal everyone is dead, and, no, it wasn’t all a dream. The stakes are high ending wise; after nearly 8 hours Slasher needed to deliver a faceslap of an ending, and while the mechanics of what happen are hardly brain meltingly original, the psychological darkness of it was a bleak delight. In short the ending to Slasher: The Executioner is a TV win: it doesn’t make you wish you hadn’t bothered. As long as you came expecting a slasher, that is. The clue’s in the title after all.

[coffeedrivenfiction]

Recuperation (a Teen Titans story) Summary: After a gigantic battle, the Teen Titans are completely worn out and the only capable of picking them up again is... coffee!

It was the third time he had slipped into that beckoning darkness, the one that loomed so invitingly just behind his eyelids, and damn did it feel good. With each blink, he could feel his aching limbs growing lighter; with each blink, he felt the strain over his chest, so much like a stubborn brick, ease off just a bit; with each blink, all the purpling bruises that gleamed that badges of honor just underneath his clothes seemed to lose their sting.

Never, in all his life, had Beast Boy wanted to pass out so badly before.

Alas, every time he blinked for a second too long, the blasted order bell rang, along with an accompanying shout from the barista behind the counter, and he was jolted back into consciousness.

"C'mon, man, can I just… five minutes, that's all I need," he grumbled, holding his cheek in his hand, "just… five… measly... minutes…."

When he started to fade for the fourth time, it wasn't the order bell that woke him up, it was when his head bobbed a little too hard, slid out of his palm, and collided with the table. He jumped up like someone had zapped him with a cattle prod, hastily wiping drool from his bottom lip. After a quick glance around, he saw that nothing had changed… the cafe was still packed to the gills with customers who, just like him, were having their nostrils tickled by the scent of energy-fueling coffee. The line at the front counter was crazy long and Beast Boy sighed. Knowing the popularity of this place, he had planned to get here as early as possible, like crack of dawn early, and while it was technically still early morning, his battered body hadn't been up to the task of holding onto a transformation long enough to secure a safe, quick flight. So he took the bus, then fell asleep by accident, missed his stop—twice, stopped to help get this old woman's cat out of a tree—it was like some twisted 'everything can go wrong' montage from a cartoon, and the primary reason why he was still waiting thirty minutes later for his ticket to get called.

"This is nuts," he whined. "How long does it take to make five stupid cups of—"

DING-DING!

"Ticket twelve! Order twelve is up for a Misterrrr… Garfield?"

"Oh, finally!" Beast Boy exclaimed, and he pushed his way to the front, eagerly holding out both hands to the familiar server. "Man, I thought you guys were picking the beans back there yourselves!"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite green looney toon," the barista said with a smile that was just as sarcastic as it was friendly. "How ya' holding up, eh?"

"Like a rickety bridge.

"You look it, sugar."

"Oh, gee, thanks," he snorted. "And you?"

"Fairly meddling, fairly meddling," she replied blithely, grinning as she handed over one cup at a time. "Saw the news this morning, though. You guys had quite the battle yesterday from the looks of it. Felt the shockwaves all the way across town where I live!"

Unsurprisingly, even mentally dwelling on the what he and the others had barely managed to survive caused Beast Boy's body to give an unholy throb in protest and he grunted, nearly dropping his drinks. "Yeah, the, uh… the villain contingency decided to throw us a little party. You know how it goes…."

"Oh, I'm sure, I'm sure." She drummed a couple fingers over the marble surface before finally asking what he knew she had been inching toward: "Did you win?"

"You're still alive, right?" There was an unmistakable edge to Beast Boy's tone as he grabbed a four-pronged drink holder. When she nodded at him, he hunched a shoulder. "Then, yeah, we won. You're welcome, by the way."

"Much appreciated, green one, I do so enjoy living," she responded evenly, the snark in her tone easily heard even over the store's commotion. "So," she casually glanced side to side, "where's the rest of the squad? Robin and them?"

"Back at the tower, where I wish I was."

"Tired, eh?"

"What, me? Tired? Psssh, nope. Beast Boy never gets tired, not when the city needs him," he boasted, yet even as he said that, the exuberance he tried to puff his chest out with quickly deflated leaving him looking more exhausted than ever. "I'm not tired, I'm just… just—"

"Sporting fifty-pound bags under your eyes because of all the effort you put into leading your team through that battle," the barista supplied, her eyeteeth showing with the smirk she flashed him. "Obviously, right?"

"I'm glad you know," he said with a weary laugh, struggling to fit each cup into place. "Ain't easy being so awesome, lemme tell ya."

"Oh, I'm sure," she agreed genially, and without a word she spun the container in a full circle, effortlessly fitting a cup into every hole. "There you go, Mr. Hero," and she lifted her hand.

A very grateful smile grew over Beast Boy's worn face and he slapped her a congratulatory high-five. "Thanks, Jules."

The barista, whose badge read Julian Spears, snapped into the most casual salute Beast Boy had ever seen. "Hey, just doing my civic duty, hun." Then she made a shooing motion. "And you should be off getting intimate with a bed right about now, might be needing you later for round two with those villains."

Once the sun was up, the concept of rest didn't exist for Beast Boy, or any of the other Titans, really. Hence the coffee. Without any prior sleep, it was going to be a very long, very arduous day ahead, and God help them if the alarm went off for any reason, but she didn't need to know that. A big part of superheroism was putting on a brave front even when the urge to fall over was nigh unbearable.

Picking up the fifth drink, Beast Boy gave her a two-fingered salute then forced an enervated grin.

"You can count on me."

"I knew we couldn't count on him," Robin slurred, lying slumped over the kitchen counter. He had only gotten as far as pulling on his pants and his mask askew with one shoe on and one shoe off. Looking at him you wouldn't be able to tell if he was trying to get dressed or undressed. He pointed a feeble yet very accusatory finger at Cyborg. "I… blame… you."

"What, me?" The look of shock that flashed over Cyborg's face only lasted for a blink until it subsided into the pain that raged all throughout his circuitry and he sank back into the chair he had unknowingly risen from. "It wasn't my idea to send BB—it was Star's."

"That is the lie," Starfire replied groggily, and unlike the others, she was half-hanging off the back of the common room couch. Through sheer force of will, she managed to lift her head and fixed Cyborg with a bleary-eyed scowl between her curtain of red hair. "I did not suggest Beast Boy to go because I was taking a short coma."

Robin snorted against the countertop while Cyborg actively chuckled. "That was the quickest coma I've ever seen anyone fall into and get out of," he remarked with subdued awe. "You Tamaraneans are something else."

"What is this else you speak of? Am I not the flesh and blood?" Starfire wondered with sincere confusion, her head falling limp before she could finish.

"No, no, that's just—" Cyborg caught himself mid-sentence, deciding it wasn't worth the energy to explain the phrase and just nodded. "You sure are."

It was rare that Raven ventured anywhere without her hood and cape combo, mostly because how else was she going to bathe her face in the calming darkness that kept her emotions in check, so to see her now, seated at the kitchen table alongside Cyborg with half her face resting in her palm, sans her concealing garment, was almost picture worthy. Like the others, she hadn't slept a wink since last night and, also like the others, her body pulsed with an agony that made sleep a moot point anyway.

"Robin," she called in that droning monotone, "this coffee of yours… I hope it has the effects you so heartily claimed it does."

Somehow, after placing his palms flush against the counter, Robin found the strength to push himself up, showing them a self-assured grin even while his arms wobbled like jell-o. "Trust me, Raven. You don't even know what it feels like to wake up fully refreshed until you've had this."

"Whenever BB decides to come home, you mean," interjected Cyborg, reclining so heavily in his chair that it audibly began to strain. "Oh, don't you wimp out on me now, chair. Dig deep, push through, c'mon now."

Starfire lifted a thumbs up but otherwise said nothing, leaving her haggard wheezing to fill the silence of actual words. Not that anyone could blame the alien girl; each of them was struggling at the moment, whether with injuries, the fatigue, or just trying to fully wrap their heads around what had transpired. Because it really made no sense. No one could have predicted a full-frontal attack of such magnitude to kick off like it did, without warning or time to prepare—and that had instilled a very disturbing spark of anxiety within the Teen Titans. This time they were lucky, one of Cyborg's alarms had gone off only minutes prior, which gave them just enough time to get their gear together.

After that… it was chaos, a bitter struggle that lasted the better portion of three hours. Robin led to the best of his capabilities, and some onlookers might saw it was due to his leadership that they didn't get completely overwhelmed, but it became a team effort around the two hour mark with everyone splitting off to handle different objectives. The cohesion they exhibited during the entire fight was something that exceeded even their best test runs and practice simulations: orders were relayed with a single glance, team-attacks flowed as easy as breathing, where one fell short another was there to pick up the slack—they were, for lack of a better word, flawless. Erratic, but flawless.

When it was all over, when the last of the foot soldiers had either been beaten back or else was in the process of being thrown into a patrol car, the last thing Robin felt like doing was standing tall for the the influx of paparazzi or entertaining the several questions the police chief had. But he did it anyway, with his team behind him.

Because being a superhero meant working well into overtime.

"You ever think about just… I dunno…." Robin grunted as he shambled his way around the counter toward the table. "What it'd be like to be… normal? For like a day?"

In unison, Raven and Cyborg stared at Robin with varying degrees of disdain; even Starfire tilted her head so as to get a really good look at her teammate, because there was no way their leader had just asked such a stupid question.

"Riiiight," said Robin with a light chuckle, easing himself tenderly into an empty chair, "because what's normal about a trans-dimensional cross-breed, a bright-blue cyborg, a girl from another planet—"

The front door suddenly began to open and everyone seized up—Robin's hand shot to his unbuckled utility belt, a hostile green glow sparked to life around Starfire's eyes, Raven lifted a very flexed hand that swam with a miasmic black aura, and Cyborg's entire left arm made the shift into his sonic cannon—but the tension bled away just as quickly as it came when Beast Boy stumbled through, beaming triumphantly.

"—or a green-skinned shapeshifter," he finished lethargically, lurching his was over to the table and bypassing the fact that the rest of his teammates had been seconds away from flaying the skin off his hide. "I mean, we just have so many choices for normal up in here I'm surprised we picked superhero as a career path."

You can find the rest at: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13206109/1/Recuperation

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 38

First

Previous

Next

~~~

She woke up with a groan and rubbed her eyes. Someone, probably Chloe, had tucked her into bed. She smiled faintly and sat up.

A glance at her phone found a text from Chloe saying she’d gotten home safely, a text from Jason asking if she was okay (really subtle), and a text from Damian asking if she wanted to talk.

She closed her eyes, letting her phone drop to her side. She didn’t really want to talk about anything, she’d already cried herself out of tears the night before and she didn’t intend on doing that again anytime soon.

She glanced at her work. She kinda needed to get a move on, the Wayne Gala was steadily approaching, but she didn’t really have any motivation to do that. She didn’t feel like being productive at all, actually.

What she wanted, really, was a distraction. She mulled over her options. Most of her hobbies also felt like work, from designing to baking, so… what could she do?

Oh!

She pulled up a chat.

Definitelyforgottosleep: wanna hang out today

She barely had to wait for an answer.

Coffeeismygirlfriend: Sure! I’ll be there soon.

She got up and went to the bathroom to get ready, only to see the dried blood on her floor. She bit her cheek and then walked to the door. She glanced back in it’s direction and smiled when she realized her counter covered it. Good. She could deal with that later, then. She didn’t feel like cleaning.

Marinette smiled as she opened the door an hour later, fully ready.

Tim smiled. “Hey! Ready to do some work?”

She grinned and rushed past him, hooking her arm with his. “Nope!”

He blinked confusedly as he allowed her to drag him along. “Uhhhh this wasn’t expected.”

“I can see that. You work too much anyways.”

Tim groaned. “Not you, too! I thought you understood!”

“Not saying it’s a bad thing, but I don’t want to do work today.”

He looked at her like she was insane.

She grinned and pulled him into an arcade that she’d seen a few times on patrol. “Behold! I’m gonna teach you how to have fun!”

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “I know how to have fun.”

“Mmm,” she said, not agreeing or disagreeing.

They both pulled out their wallets and then eyed each other warily. Marinette crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m the one who wanted to come.”

“I’m the one with more money.”

She rolled her eyes and, however reluctantly, put her money away. He had a point. He probably wouldn’t even register the loss.

He smiled like he’d won something and handed over his credit card. “Uhhhh just as many points as you can give us, I guess?”

The clerk looked exhausted as she nodded, handing over the plastic cards.

And, with that, they were off.

She was better at most of the straight video games. He complained about difficult controls, but she was pretty sure he just wasn’t used to playing on consoles. It made sense, he didn’t really seem the type to play video games in his off time (if he even had any offtime, of course).

Still, he gave her a pout every time he lost. “You’re cheating.”

“Yeah. I’m cheating on this game that I’ve literally never played before in my life. You’ve caught me.”

He huffed. “We’re playing something else.”

Then they moved onto games based on sports. Were they maybe a bit too good at these types of games? A bit too quick? Yes. But neither of them intended on saying anything because oh cool tickets. Still, it became obvious they had different skill sets: Tim had her beat at basketball and Marinette never lost at skeeball. They never learned who was better at air hockey because one of their hits sent the puck flying into someone’s head and they had to run away before they got sued.

Next was games of luck…

She got the lowest possible amount of tickets. Five times in a row.

Marinette kicked the machine and then cursed at the pain. “THIS IS STUPID.”

Tim, however, was trying his hardest not to laugh. “This shouldn’t even be possible.”

“Helpful,” she muttered.

He gave a small shrug as he stepped up to the machine. “Maybe it’s just rigged or something,” he said. She would have been inclined to agree... if he didn’t get a jackpot on his first try.

She huffed at his smug grin. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I could feel you judging me,” she muttered, giving his shoulder a small shove.

He grinned. “I’d never.”

She rolled her eyes. “New type of game!”

After a bit they managed to find some co-op games, and she was delighted to find that the two of them together made for a pretty formidable team. Admittedly, some of the games weren’t technically supposed to be played as co-op, but who was going to stop them from getting as many tickets as possible from this fishing game by working together? Really it was the designer’s fault for not taking that into consideration.

They ran out of credits about every hour, but did they care? Not really. Mostly because Tim never told her when this happened, usually waiting until she was distracted with a game to go recharge their cards. Did Marinette notice the fact that their cards were seemingly never ending or that sometimes they would randomly have a lot more credits? Maybe, but she was enjoying herself enough to avoid the guilt at least temporarily.

Eventually, though, the arcade was coming to a close.

They had bags upon bags of tickets hanging off their arms, but this would become their downfall. Despite being smart enough to find ways to get the most tickets at every game, they apparently weren’t smart enough to think ahead and were now struggling to untangle the tickets.

“How did you even do this, bean?”

She knocked her head against the machine she’d been leaning on. “Less talking, more untangling,” she muttered irritably, struggling with a ticket that somehow had gotten a knot in it.

They ignored the workers’ glares as they finally managed to hand over the little slip with their ticket count on it. Despite how much they’d gotten, they were forced to go to the cheapest section.

She pouted. “Man, we were cheated.”

“We could just buy the stuff, it’s a lot cheaper that way.”

She turned her gaze on him, an incredulous look on her face. “Of course not! Where’s the fun in that?”

“You would actually get what you wanted…?”

She huffed. “Boring.”

“You just said you felt cheated.”

“That’s part of the experience, Timothy.”

He rolled his eyes and they split off in search of what they could afford. Her eyes landed on the vigilante merch and a smile came to her face as she got a plan. She quickly rang herself up and headed to the bathroom to change.

She grinned at him as she stepped out in a Red Robin themed hoodie, clutching a plush version of the vigilante to her chest. 

Because what’s the point of knowing your friends’ secret identities if you can’t mess with them?

He blushed, his grip tightening on the bag of prizes in his hand.

Marinette tried not to laugh as she looped her arm with his again, pulling him out into the streets. She really didn’t know where they were going, but she didn’t want to just leave when he was looking so flustered. What a wasted opportunity!

“So, Red Robin fan?” He asked after a bit.

She smiled. “Of course! He’s super smart! I mean, I know Batman is supposed to be the greatest detective of all time or whatever but, considering ages and experience, I think that Red Robin is probably going to have him beat in… I don’t know, a few years?”

Poor Tim looked like he was about to pass out, his face was so red.

She smiled and sat down with him on a park bench. People were thinning around them as night approached, but she didn’t care. What was going to happen? They get attacked? That would only really be a bad time for the criminal.

“But I’ve actually met the guy a few times. He’s really nice and genuinely cares about his job from what I’ve seen. Don’t think there’s anything bad to say about him, honestly.”

He grinned, resting an arm around her shoulders.

“He’s alright, I guess.” An odd light sparkled in his eyes and he reached into his bag. He shuffled through his things for a bit and then held up a mug…

There was a picture of Ladybug on it.

“I think she’s cooler, though.”

Marinette fought the urge to bury her face in his shoulder as a blush came to her face. Ah. So this has backfired on her, apparently. All she could manage was a quiet: “Oh?”

“Yep! I think it’s really cool that she came over from Paris, because she really didn’t have to do that. No one would have said anything if she’d disappeared when Hawkmoth was defeated, but instead she decided to help Gotham!”

They were alone, now. This was great, because she didn’t need anyone else seeing her looking like a tomato. She fiddled with the Red Robin plushie in her lap for an excuse to look away.

A hand rested on her cheek and she looked up to see him. He was still a little flushed from her own compliments, but now there was a small grin playing at his lips. “Everything alright, bean? You look a little bit flushed, are you coming down with something?”

She opened her mouth to give an excuse before something struck her. Tim wasn’t stupid, she hadn’t been lying when she had said so. He couldn’t genuinely be wondering if she was sick, the smug look on his face made that obvious. So the only reason he’d be acting like this was if he was teasing her, which meant…

“You know?”

His eyes widened slightly and then flicked to the side. His hand lowered. “And I’m guessing you do, too?”

She nodded almost imperceptibly, closing her eyes. “What gave me away?”

“I was kinda suspicious during the food fight, you were a bit too good at it for a normal civvie, but I really figured it out because of the fox necklace. The one time she wears it is the one time I’ve seen you ever have it? It was just too much of a coincidence.”

She swore in French. She’d forgotten about that! She was going to start wearing the fox miraculous casually to alleviate suspicion, but Red Robin hadn’t come by much after that and she hadn’t been completely sure it was Tim.

“And how’d you figure me out?”

She hesitated. “It was obvious, honestly.”

“Damian?”

She blinked. “What? How’d you know?”

“You wouldn’t lie to protect anyone else.”

Fair enough. “Damian and I sparred, I recognized his fight style.”

He nodded and pulled her into his side a bit more.

She leaned into his touch a little bit, slinging an arm over his stomach lazily. “What do you think I should do?” She mumbled.

He didn’t bother to ask what she was talking about. “Honestly? I don’t like you going out into the field again. You’re not well…”

“But?”

“But the Rogues are unstable and I don’t like the idea of trying to fight them all off without any knowledge of what they were going to do.”

She nodded slightly. That made sense. “That’s about what I figured, too.”

“I don’t like you going out into the field again. You’re not well,” he repeated, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “The rest of them are probably going to be even more against the idea than me.”

“I’ll convince them.”

“Can you?”

Her head shot up to look at him and she bit at the inside of her cheek. He had a point, unfortunately. Jason was going to be against it, Bruce would probably be cautious of her because of his whole anti-murder thing, Dick would probably lean towards not letting her out again as well. She thought she might be able to convince Damian, but then again he was the only one who knew the full extent of what had happened over the past week.

She sighed and leaned into him again, closing her eyes. She buried her face in his shoulder. “Can you help?”

“Maybe,” he said softly, and she knew immediately that whatever he was going to say she wasn’t going to like it. “If you go to therapy regularly they’d probably be more okay with it.”

She cringed. There was that suggestion again: therapy. It was almost like she needed it or something. Still, she felt her normal excuse fall off her tongue: “What, am I supposed to tell them who I am?”

“Yep.”

She frowned.

“All of us have a regular therapist who sees us in costume and we talk about the job.”

“Will she tell Bruce everything I say?”

“Nope! She only has to tell him if we’re going to hurt ourselves or others.” He gave a short chuckle. “More than necessary, I mean.”

Marinette sighed. “But…”

Man, she was really running out of excuses now.

“It’s really the only way they’ll agree, bean.”

He was right, she just didn’t like it. She didn’t agree out loud, that would only make it feel more real. Instead, she curled into his side.

“We should probably head back to my apartment at some point. It’s going to get cold soon.”

“Yeah, probably,” he agreed quietly.

They didn’t move from where they were for a long time, content to lean into each other for warmth.

And, when they woke up the next morning, they decided to pretend they didn’t notice the giant sign over their necks that declared them under Rogue protection.

~~~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru

<3

[checkurselfb4umachuwreckurself]

Shinji, Dub: "I haven't seen Sector Security this riled up since you let all of the air out of their runners" Crow, dub: "Come on! It's me! I'm always careful!"

“You Steal The Air (Out of My Lungs)” 3k

Crow does some dumb things when he’s younger, but he gets to meet Shinji, so it’s all fair, right?. (Warning: Meet cute)

Jack and Crow looked past the wall corner they were hiding behind. The soot from the Commons marked their skin, just as the gold had marked Crow. “I’ve explained this to you before,” Jack whispered, “this is stupid, and we’re going to get in trouble.”

The threat did not deter Crow. “Trouble is my middle name,” he said flashing a smile up to his big brother. He snuck around, scoping out a new angle.

A sigh came from the accomplice. “Your middle name is “Robin”, idiot,” he said, following him.

Crow looked at his prize. A fancy D-Wheel, with “SECURITY” slapped across the side. It was sitting in the middle of the alleyway, the owner probably inside the building bullying a Commoner. “There she is,” Crow chirped.

“I don’t get it,” Jack whispered, looking around for the Sector Security member that was sure to jump out any time. “Why are we stealing the bike? Neither of us can drive one anyways.” Jack already stated he wouldn’t help any more than just being lookout, but he couldn’t help himself from trying to stop Crow.

With a flick of the wrist, Crow’s pocketknife came out. “Who said I was stealing it?”

Jack’s hand grabbed Crow’s dominant wrist. “No! No etching into the fucking police bike!” He hissed, staring Crow directly into the eyes. “I know you’re pissed that they marked you, but they’ll know who did this.” He poked the gold marker on Crow’s forehead. “We don’t both need these things. Let’s go.”

Once Crow’s hand was released, he shook his head. “I didn’t say I was gonna mark them.” He pouted, looking down to the left. Great. Now he had to come up with a Plan C. Jack looked at him expectantly, as Crow looked at his blade. “I’m popping the tires.”

The look on Jack’s face was ludicrous. “H-how is that any better? It’s still vandalism and illegal!” Jack held firmly onto the back of Crow’s collar. “You want to get taken away like Yuusei did!?”

The mention of their other brother made Crow’s blood run still. “I… I’m careful.” He whispered, more of a reassurance to himself than anything. “You’ll still have your baby brother after this. I promise.”

Jack sighed, staying stationary for lookout. “That’s just what Yuusei said.”

Crow sneaked over to the lone bike. Very gently, he tapped the wheel with his boot. No response. So they weren’t trapped like everyone said. He crouched down, turning back to Jack, flashing a smile and a thumbs up, like he half expected his brother to snap a photo then and there. He jabbed a few stabs of the knife into both tires and snuck back to his brother. “Easy!” he said, clapping Jack on the shoulder.

“Congratulations,” Jack drawled, “you really stuck it to The Man”

A nod. “Direct action.” Crow walked by, scoping out any more lonely bikes looking for a cheap stab.

“Wait,” Jack said, grabbing Crow’s collar again, “you’re not done?”

A sheepish look accompanied his shrug. “You know me, I can’t just have one.” He wriggled out of Jack’s grip once more and handed the blade to Jack. “You try it. You’ll understand.”

Despite the absolute lack of interest, Jack humoured Crow by taking the knife. “One,” he stated, “I will pop one tire.”

Half an hour passed, and 16 D-Wheel tires were absolutely destroyed. “I-I told you dude,” Crow panted, rubbing his hand under his headband. “Very very cheap and rewarding thrills.”

Jack had to cover his face to stop himself from laughing. Their backs were pressed to a wall of a dark alley, collecting the gross soot once more, but neither of them cared now. The black was sure to never come off Jack’s white clothes, but it didn’t bother him. “T-this is so fucking childish, but I’m enjoying myself too much to care,” he choked out.

The Man had been stuck to, and they assumed that was it.

Until a searchlight switched on nearby them.

“We know you’re out there!” A loud faraway voice announced. The helicopter’s blade that Crow and Jack hadn’t noticed, picked up to the speed of their heartbeats. “Come out quietly!” The boys’ doe eyed legs didn’t move. Was it too late for them to sneak the opposite way of the search light? “…Sir, I don’t think they’re threatened.”

“Of course not!” A gruffer but still loud and faraway voice barked. “The stupid kids jacked up all of our bikes! All we have are the helicopters!”

‘All of’ was a good phrase to hear now. Crow sharply turned to Jack, who was probably thinking the same thing: Run.

While splitting up could be efficient for the brothers, there was safety in numbers, and Sector Security would have to drag them apart before either could be taken away. They wouldn’t make the same mistake they made with Yuusei.

Darkness came quickly and harshly in the Commons. They were so deep into the labyrinth of alleyway that the broken lamps’ light couldn’t illuminate their path. They just kept running, running, hoping to hell they wouldn’t trip or slow down too much. Maybe the helicopter didn’t pick up that they had left?

“Hey,” a boy’s voice whispered, popping out of a doorway. The lights to the house weren’t on, causing the two to suffer a little confusion to where the voice came from. “Come here,” the voice continued once the two found the voice, “you’ll be safe here.”

Commons usually worked together to keep each other safe, but there were always those that used their fellow duelists as a stepping stone to get in touch with the Tops, or to rob them blindly. “It’s safer to keep going,” Jack whispered to Crow, “we don’t know his motivation.”

Unfortunately, Crow’s heart was filled to the brim with love and hope. “He sounds about our age, so I trust him.” He stiffened, looking into his brother’s eyes. “Plus, are you seriously saying you couldn’t take him on if he was bad news?”

As much as he didn’t want to take on another one of Crow’s challenges today, he conceded. “Fine,” he said with a bite of regret, following his brother to the sound of the voice.

“My name is Shinji,” the boy said, pouring weak tea into cups that he slid to the brothers. His face was highlighted by the candle on the table. He looked a bit older than Crow, about Yuusei’s age. The two accepted the drinks as the boy spoke up. “What are your names? Or should I just call you “Spikey” and “Punky”?” he asked with a quick laugh.

‘Spikey’ spoke first. “My name is Crow. This is my brother, Jack.” Crow sipped some tea. He was not sure what the flavour was, but at least it was hot.

‘Punky’ didn’t say anything for a while. He just looked around as subtly as he could. “Do you live alone?” Jack finally asked.

Shinji rested his cheek into his palm, looking off to the side. “You could say that.” His gaze lowered. “My old friend used to live here with me, but… Security got him.” The grip on his cheek tightened, dull fingernails digging into his soft cheeks. “I can’t stand Sector Security.” After noticing neither wanted to respond, he decided to change the conversation back to them. “So, Crow and Jack, why are you on the lam?”

The two looked each other, Jack harshly jabbing Crow with his elbow, Crow’s blush getting engulfed by the candlelight. “We… maybe kind of let all the air out of all their tires? …With a knife.”

Despite his face being covered, Shinji laughed through his hands. “You what?”

Jack’s arms crossed. “Exactly what he said, even the unfortunate “we” part.” He shook his head in disapproval of both his and his brother’s actions.

Shinji caught the sides of his face with his hands, cupping both of his cheeks now, looking at Crow with a goofy childish grin. “Good thing I found you. You would have been in a lot of trouble if they found you first, huh.” Jack quickly picked up that Shinji was only talking about Crow. He was staring into Crow’s grey eyes happily, like he could be told Crow’s whole life story and sigh dreamily with each and every line.

Crow, however, just looked up to the patched ceiling listening to the buzz in the night. “The helicopters are still out, huh?” He drummed his fingers on the wooden table as he downed the rest of his tea. “Jack, how far are we from home?”

Neither of them knew the streets that well in the dark. They barely knew where this house was on the map. “I don’t know, Crow.” Sector Security wouldn’t be an issue since they could only travel on foot. Could they even track Crow’s marker without their bikes? If so, they’d find out soon enough.

“You could stay the night,” Shinji offered with a warm smile. “As I mentioned, I’m alone right now.”

The two were wary, but too tired to protest well enough. “If it’s not a bother…” Crow whispered.

Shinji shook his head. “It really isn’t.” He gestured the others to follow, blowing out the candle.

There was only the one bed, and Jack didn’t care about it, sitting on the nearby chair. It wasn’t his abandoned throne back home, but it would do. “Crow,” Jack ordered, looking up to his little brother, “bring in one of the chairs from the kitchen.

Crow went to head out, but Shinji stopped him with a laugh. “You don’t have to, you can share the bed with me. It’s totally fine.”

He looked to Jack, getting nothing but rolled eyes. “I really don’t want to be a bother…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He complied anyways, getting into the bed with Shinji. They faced away from each other, back to back on the small bed. Crow fell asleep quite quickly, but the other two couldn’t manage to sleep.

“You have a crush on Crow.” Jack firmly stated, unexpectedly, snapping Shinji out of the state of almost sleep.

His face had a twinge of red, but he was holding himself together the best that he could. “Oh, what makes you s-say that?” Shinji was facing Jack already, so he propped himself onto his elbow, trying his best not to shift the bed and wake Crow.

Jack slowly blinked, somewhat to adjust to the dark, but mostly in apathy. “Making goo-goo eyes at him was obvious enough, but being so hospitable? It’s either that, or you want his kidneys.”

Shinji laughed quietly. “Maybe I think he’s a little cute. Nothing too big, I haven’t even seen him in daylight yet.” He looked up to Jack’s face, which had some moonlight shining on it, showing his somewhat annoyed expression. “Fine, should I just cut to the chase and call you Jack-niisan now?” he whispered, his fake yet piercing smile growing as Jack’s annoyed expression grew in rhythm.

“Go to sleep, you pest,” Jack said, crossing his leg over the other knee. Shinji just nodded, sliding off his elbow to sleep.

Jack had insisted the two of them leave the second he woke up, so Shinji woke up to the empty room. He saw a scrawled note, thanking him for the tea and a place to sleep, with a small drawing of a bird as a signature. It was definitely Crow’s note. …he had sort of terrible handwriting.

Jack must have done great job of hiding his brother, since Shinji hadn’t seen the two after their shared night. Unless… Sector Security caught them. He was a fool. By taunting Jack, he let him get mad and let the two of them walk into danger. Crow was gone. Shinji would never be able to tell him his feelings. He’d never be able to act on them if Crow had known the whole time either. Shinji sunk into the chair of his homeless house. Damn his helpless self.

“Still hung up on Crow?” Tony asked Shinji, whose chin was to the table. It had been about three years since the meeting, yet cupid’s arrow was still firmly lodged into Shinji’s fragile heart. He managed to convince Tony and Damon to move in with him a while back, making their own group to watch out for each other. Sure, Sector Security would probably refer to them as a gang, but a gang needed matching jackets, right? They would simply be just bros being bros until they decided on a colour scheme.

Shinji lifted his chin to rest his hands under his head. “I never really got to know him. His likes, his hair colour, hell, I don’t even know his deck!” Shinji functioned fairly well, but sometimes things that reminded him of Crow sunk him to a sad low he couldn’t break from for some time. “I just want to see him again. If he turns out to actually be a douche, I’ll be able to get over him better than where I am now with Mr. Uncertainty.”

It wasn’t a frequent topic, but Tony handled it the same way every time. “I’m sorry dude,” he said, placing a hand on Shinji’s hand. The two heard a rattle at the door, both looking over to it, expecting their third member to show up… Or possibly Sector Security

It was just Damon, luckily enough. “Hey, amigos,” Damon said, popping his head through the doorway. “Found a guy at the market. I think he was doing tricks for spare change or something. He did a sweet double backflip and I was so lost for words that I invited him back to the pad for a cup of coffee.”

Shinji laughed. “You fall for any guy with killer legs and a nice core.”

Damon rubbed his neck sheepishly, a faint blush forming. “Maybe so. Plus, I think he’s homeless”

“I’m literally right behind you,” a familiar voice said, as a similarly familiar face popped in. “And I have a name… Also, I’m not homeless.” It was a boy, slightly younger than any of them, a few inches shorter as well.  He had powerful spiked tiger coloured hair, but the most obvious thing about him was his many markers. He looked out to the two sitting. “Yo. My name’s Crow-sama. You want to introduce yourselves over coffee as well?”

Coffee could wait. Shinji jumped up, slapping his hands onto the wood table. “Crow!?”

Crow laughed nervously. “It’s… not a common name.” He winked. “Don’t tell me you’ve heard of my amazing feats?”

“You asshole!” Shinji shouted. He vaulted over table, Crow squeaking out in surprise, backing against the door frame as Damon got out of the way. Shinji ended up right in front of Crow, glaring down at the other boy.

“Geez,” Crow hissed, staring up at Shinji. “You some sort of undercover cop? That sucks- Wait… are you… crying?”

He was. Shinji’s olive eyes were bubbly, small tears gliding down his face. “You left me… With barely so much as a goodbye.” He aggressively wiped away at his tears, walking away rummage through a drawer. “Jack made you leave, didn’t he?”

Crow’s eyes narrowed. “Do I know you-“ Crow paused. “How do you know Jack?”

Shinji returned, handing the slip of paper with the scrawled note on it. “I met him three years ago,” he said flatly, as Crow looked over the paper.

“You…” Crow paused, racking his brain to remember the name. “Shinji, you kept this over all these years?” Crow wasn’t exactly sure what to say; everything was happening so quickly. “Man, my handwriting sucks.”

There was a gentle pause, Crow slowly looking back up to Shinji, the note obscuring his face, his eyes only barely grazing above the top. “I really didn’t expect to see you again, so I kept it.” Shinji was done crying, but the splotches of red still remained on his face. “It’s weird seeing you now.” Another pause. “You grew up.”

“So did you.” After the tender moment passed, Crow handed back the note, Shinji pocketing it.

Coffee was slid onto the table, the strong aroma breaking the two boys’ focus. “Coffee’s done…” Damon whispered, he and Tony feeling awkward for being present during the thorny reunion.

Crow slapped his forehead. “Where are my manners!?” He walked to the sink to wash his hands. “And don’t dare do the dishes, ya hear me?”

Shinji went to sit down, Damon taking the seat next to him. Both he and Tony looked over to Shinji, who simply sniffled. “So? Is he all he’s-“

“He is,” Shinji whispered, “I’m a little mad at him, but still like him, and I want to get to know him.”

Damon laughed quietly. “There goes my shot I guess.”

Shinji glared. “I called dibs three years ago, pal.” He looked up, calling to Crow. “Hey! You just gotta tell me and my buddies about how your run in with the police bike popping went!”

“Yeah!” Tony added in. “Shinji tells us all about it, but we never did find out how it ended!”

Crow toweled off his hands, walking over to the table, taking the last remaining seat. “Sure sure, I can tell you alllllllll about it.” He placed his heart over his chest. “I think that fun made up for the marker they gave me- The first one. The other ones I haven’t made up for yet.” He sat kitty-corner to Shinji, yet faced him the whole time. “Maybe I should start? Okay so, three years ago, my stick-in-the-mud big brother…”

Shinji’s eyes were hazy. Hearing his voice again was the melody of angels. He didn’t have to catch everything the first time, Crow looked ecstatic to tell the story, and he looked as if he’d want to tell it a million more. And Shinji would surely let him. As quietly as he could, he sighed dreamily. He could convince Crow to stay for dinner, but now it was time to think of how to convince Crow to stay forever.

[thewriterwithnoplan]

Hell and Back (Part 1)

Summary: Y/N Winchester is an enigma wrapped in a riddle. The half-sibling of the famed brothers and she was there through it all. Until now. After Jack’s birth she made a deal with Batman himself. His money for her expertise. She can pay for a real school and some online classes for her and Jack. All she has to do is enlighten the Team about her world. Easy peasy, right? Pairing: Supernatural x Reader x Young Justice Word Count: 1912 Warnings: None.

A/N: Might not do a second part. Not sure how I feel about this?

"What's this about a new member?" Wally all but sped into the lounge of Mount Justice. The team were splayed casually across the room. Robin lifted his head from his laptop, frowning at the speedster and tilting his head. "Did anyone even know? Batman just brought some girl through, talking about how she'd fit right in."

Artemis sat up quickly from where she'd been splayed on an armchair sharpening her arrows. M'gann's head snapped up in confusion. It seemed they hadn't known and by the others expressions they hadn't been enlightened either. Even Kaldur looked surprised, which was more that concerning considering he was the Team leader.

"Bats hasn't mentioned anything," Robin furrowed his eyebrows. He was quiet for a moment as if stuck in a deep thought. "Though he has made an unusual amount of business trips to Lebanon, Kansas. Does the girl look like this?"

The boy wonder turned his computer, showing the team - some of whom had to lean in comically to see - a photo. The girl was about Artemis' age, H/L H/C hair and E/C eyes. She was pretty if they were being honest but threatening. Her expression was hard and her eyes were set in a partial glare as if that was her default look. Wally gave a nod, causing half the team to deflate in annoyance. How was it fair for her to just be permitted onto the team. M'gann grinned at the picture, obviously happy to have another girl on the team - intense stare or no.

"What do you know of her?" Robin shrugged at Kaldur's question. Wally super sped over to his friend, snatching the computer to look at whatever the boy had open. It was a file on the girl and three other men. Robin gave an indignant cry chasing after the boy as he read the information to the team, all the while dodging the angered bird.

"Says here her names Y/N Winchester," Wally side stepped Robin with a smug grin. "Age 16, daughter of Dean Winchester-"

"What?" Conner raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Keep going, what else?"

"That's it." The room paused, even Robin stopped jumping for the machine, if only for a moment. "No medical records, no criminal records, no nothing."

Someone coughed loudly, tearing everyones gaze from Wally to the person. With the distraction Robin apprehended his computer and scurried back to his seat. Batman pegged them all with the famed Bat-glare™. Behind him a girl stood, hands on her hips and a wide smirk on her face. She wore a red plaid shirt unbuttoned over a white top and a pair of denim shorts. The team stared at the girl who looked nothing like her photo. Where it depicted a teen ready to murder the next person she met, this girl looked just as prepared to charm them to death.

She looked up at Batman and gave him a sincere smile. "I can handle it from here Batsy, thanks for the tour. Be sure to keep up your end of the bargain and I think we can do some good work here."

The bat merely grunted but a soft curve of his lips betrayed him as he flourished his cape and left. Y/N grinned at the assembled team and with a fluid few steps she slumped herself into the only empty armchair. Some of the members simply stared at the girl who dared to speak to the Batman like that. Better yet to demand something like a deal from him. The girl looked up meeting their looks before shifting into a proper sitting form.

Y/N opened her mouth as if to introduce herself but instead she decided on, "That informations wrong you know."

Robin gave an indignant grunt that was almost the spitting image of Batman's. It was Wally who spoke up for the Boy Wonder, "It's a Federal Record how is it wrong?"

"Because Wallace West," A pointed use of his identity that the group noticed. Though there was humour in the girl's voice, "Dean Winchester is my brother, I'm 15 and have a Criminal Record that runs for days."

"Ex-Villain then?" Artemis sat up to rest her arms against her legs. "Yeah we get those."

"Hardly," She snorted. "You civilians don't really call us anything, especially not Villain."

Aqualad rather uncharacteristically spat out his drink at the title. Had Y/N, this girl they'd just met, called them Civilians? Kaldur gave her an incredulous look. "We do not appreciate name-calling on this Team Miss Winchester. If you wish to be integrated into the group I would advise you refrain from it in future."

"Oh, I'm just here for the money," She grinned upside down at him as he once again spat out his drink. Money? Conner asked as much, his threatening tone not giving the woman a moment of pause. "You guys need me so Batsy is paying me to help."

"Are you mental?" Wally asked, nearly sincere. "We don't need someone like you. Saving people isn't some way to make money, it's-"

"The Family Business!" She leapt from her seat and stalked to the speedster, shoving a finger to his chest giving it a firm jab. "Saving People," Jab. "Hunting Things," Jab. "The Family Business." Jab. Jab. "Trust me I know, I've been in it since I was four. But you do need me, like it or not Kid Flash."

"So what?" The red head grunted. "You've been at it longer than we have? From my guess you're not Meta, maybe trained but by your not built as well as most of us. What's so special about you?"

"I'm an expert in the field that your all about to enter." A sly grin grew over the girls face. Wally opened his mouth to shoot something back but she beat him to it, "Did you know Wally that the only way to kill a vampire is beheading? Or that demons have to be killed with a one of a kind knife that I own? Or that the scruffy Chuck forsaken mutt in the foyer is half hellhound?"

The room burst into hysterical laughter that boomed off the walls. A few fell from seats or keeled over to clutch at their stomachs. Someone gave a howl of amusement, M'gann clutched at Conner's shoulder. Artemis was all but rolling on the floor, mouthing the words to herself just to curl up in a fit again. Wally was trying - and horribly failing - to hold it in. Robin huffed out something about having any proof between coughing fits. Once they'd calmed down Y/N deigned to answer.

"Round three years ago, the sun dimmed." She raised an eyebrow waiting for them to acknowledge her statement with a round of nods. "That was my brothers and I loosing a fight to God's sister, Amara. Four years before some biblical shit went down. Mass killings, plague of locusts, entire towns eating themselves to death, weather surges. That was the apocalypse. Beginning of this year power in half the country went out? Antichrist's birth, his name is Jack."

Some more hysteria, some wiping tears from their eyes. She supposed it would sound insane. Y/N had never had to explain it, that was Sam's job. And that was usually after a civilian had seen something supernatural already. The group began to quiet when Y/N rolled her eyes and marched into the centre of the room. Falling to her knees on the carpet she pressed her palms together and waited for utter silence.

"Hey Jack," She tilted her head back further, eyes closed reverently. "I know you and the boys are usually busy with the whole Michael thing but I could use a second opinion. I'm not hurt but I could use a hand."

Y/N opened her eyes and waited as the group barely surpassed snickers. Some muttering about religion loonies and she sent a glare in their direction. A signature whoosh of wind shut them all up. They turned slowly to the source as Y/N's eyes light up and she sprung up. Jack was standing with an adorably cute confused look on his face. He tilted his head at her in that way of his.

"Who are they N/N?" He waved at the group with a small smile.

"Well Jack-a-boy," She skipped to his side and ruffled his hair - though he looked quite a bit older and was a head taller. "This is the team I told you about. You know that hero team, their leader is giving us money so we can go to school. Cool right?"

The team blinked at the pair in confusion. School? Y/N was doing this so she could go to school when her friend was able to just teleport here? When she'd proved that the supernatural was real. Jack's eyes light up delighted and he grinned spinning the small woman round. She looked several years younger - in fact he seemed of legal age - and yet he was more of a child. Some gave her a pitiful look when she and Jack stopped spinning.

"So that blonde one is Artemis, then Wally, Kaldur, Conner and Megan." She pointed to each making them flinch with each name drop. "You can just call that one Robin. Team this is Jack Kline, he's Lucifer's son."

Jack screwed up his face at that, "Biologically. The Winchester's are my real family."

"Dude how old are you?" Wally muttered, though Jack had picked it up with his intense Celestial hearing.

"One year, four months, eight days and three hours." He told them seriously, they mostly just stared. "So N/N what did you need help with?"

"So I'm going to have to stay here a while Jacky." He pouted playfully at his least favourite nickname. "Anyway, with so many angels all over from the fall and the demons thinking we're still trying to shut hell, I need to put some warding up. I thought you could give me hand, I know Sammy's had you reading up on it at the bunker."

Wally gave Y/N a doe eyed look, "You live in a bunker and don't go to school? How much do you need this money?"

"Jeez dude, not that much." She huffed, giving Jack an encouraging smile. The nephilim nodded and snapped his fingers, eyes glowing golden as the walls shimmered. Runes splattered themselves up the wall.

"Is that needed?" Robin stared almost horrified at the marked wall, even as the symbols turned invisible.

"It is if you want Y/N here," Jack nodded thoughtfully. "She's a walking talking supernatural magnet. Not every human has been to hell and back, let alone heaven and purgatory. Anyway Y/N I've gotta head back, I think we caught a vamp nest up north."

"Have fun!" She pecked his cheek and waved as he flurried off in a tumble of shadow wings.

"Hell and back." Someone repeated as she turned back to the team. They were staring at her, as their worlds crashed around them. Y/N gave a nod, slumping back into her self-claimed armchair. They stared blankly at her.

The room erupted in questions.

[astressedwriter]

i am not a robin anymore// batfam and roy harper

IMPORTANT!!- I did alter the timeline a little bit to make this story fit better, so instead of Jason being 15, i’m making him 17. Also, Tim and Jason met and were friends for a couple of months before Jason disappeared.

Warnings- Violence and swearing

Prompt: Jason died at the hands of the Joker and we see the downward spiral of Ari, Jason’s best friend.

It had been three weeks since Ari was told the news, the Joker beat Jason to death with a crowbar. He was dead. Her best friend was head. Her rock was dead. Her reason to live was dead. She sat staring at the computer in the batcave, watching the security footage of Jason’s final beating. When she saw Jason take his last breath, she broke. She turned around and threw a stapler at the glass surrounding Jason costume, she whimpered and put her hand over her eyes. Everybody could see she was as broken as the glass lying on the floor. Anybody could see it. When Bruce entered the batcave nearly an hour later, he saw the broken glass, and spotting the girl laying on top of the tallest climbing wall in the cave, if you landed right and missed the mat, the fall would kill you.

“Ari.” He stated, the girl made eye contact with Bruce, allowing him to see how broken she truly was. Without a word she scaled down the climbing wall and exited the batcave, heading up to her room. She layed on her back, staring at the ceiling, where the phrase, Ha Ha jokes on you, was written in red all over. She had made her decision,

“If Bruce won’t revenge you Jay, I will.” She sits up in her bed and changes into her Robin costume, she stealthily slips out of the window. It didn’t take her long to find the Joker, mostly because Harley tipped her off, it was obvious that the Joker killing Jason in such a brutal manner snapped something inside Harley. Even better, she caught him off guard. She took a pistol out of her utility belt and held it up to the clown’s temple.

“Well, well lookie what we have here, a Robin threatening to kill me. You won’t do it baby bird, it’s against Batman’s ‘code’” Joker mocks, but is surprised to see the 17 year old girls face stone cold, colder than he’d ever seen it.

“I’m not a Robin anymore.” She pulled the trigger without even so much as blinking, then she disappeared. Six months later, Superman got some help in Metropolis.

Bruce Wayne hadn’t seen the girl he considered to be his daughter in three years, one month after Jason died, but now he was back. He was crazier and more reckless than before, but he was back. His Jason, his son, was back.

“Where’s Ari?” Is one of the first question’s Jason asks while working with Batman on a mission. Bruce sighed,

“I haven’t seen her for three years, one month after you died. She could be anywhere.” Even though Bruce couldn’t see Jason’s face under the hood, he could tell that Jason was worried.

“Actually,” A familiar voice stated from behind them, “I’m right here.” Jason whipped around and tore his hood off,  but who he saw before him was not the girl he remember. She was taller, slimmer, colder and most importantly, she was carrying two katana’s and two pistols strapped to her hips. She was wearing a different costume too, her new costume was a dark blue with black detailing and a black hood with a mouth/nose mask. Bruce grew rigid beside him,

“So, you kill now?” The question came out cold, colder than Bruce had meant it too.

“I have ever since October 12, 2005. (Completely made up date)” Bruce’s eyes grew wide.

“That’s the night the Joker was killed, and the night you disappeared.” Jason glanced between Bruce and Ari,

“Wait, you killed the Joker?” “Yes, after about three months, I knew Bruce wasn’t going to do a damn thing, so I took matters into my own hands.” The girl glares at Bruce before grabbing her katanas and slicing a plant that was growing beside her.

“Not now Pam!” Ari screams and the plants all retreat.

“Where have you been this whole time?” Ari glares at Bruce again but answers anyways, “I was helping Clarke out in Metropolis for a year as Storm, then I went and trained with some outcasts from the League of Shadows.”

“You’re wanted for murder on 68 charges. I’m going to have to take you in.” Jason stares at Bruce in absolute shock, he wasn’t going to help either Bruce or Ari, he couldn’t.

“Come and get me, Bruce.” He flinched, she always called him dad, always.

Batman charged, going for a knockout punch, but Ari had gotten much better since he had last fought her. When they spared, she had only had two years of training and Bruce could beat her with two hands tied around his back, but she was different now. She sidestepped his attack, bringing her knee up into his stomach, she went in for a stab with her swords, but Bruce pushed himself away just in time to avoid getting shish kabobed. The fight went on for maybe half an hour, and Jason could tell that this far Ari had been playing with Bruce, but she was slowly losing her patience, hitting harder, hitting faster, swinging her sword more. He raised his gun up into the air and shot it, making both Ari and Bruce pause,

“Enough!” Jason yells, “You two are family. Start acting like it.”

When Dick and Tim found out that Ari was back and Jason was alive, they were shocked to say the least. They decided to go to Jason’s apartment first, knocking on the door. The door opened to reveal Jason, who looked very annoyed, but not at them. He gave Dick and Tim a short, short hug and sidestepped, letting them into the apartment. Dick and Tim froze when they saw, Ari and Roy Harper, sitting on the couch, Ari stradling Roy, in a heavy makeout session. Jason rolled his eyes and grabbed two pans, hitting them together, making Ari and Roy separate, “What Jason?” Ari asks, not even turning around to face him.

“You have guests.” Ari sighs and stands up, finally turning to face them. Ari’s face lights up a little when she see’s Dick and Tim, she rushes over and hugs them both.

“Where have you been?” Dick exclaimed, then taking notice of the same differences Jason saw, along with Tim.

“Are those katanas?” Tim asks incredulously. Ari sighed deeply like she already knew this was coming, this was after all,  why she decided to stay with Jason instead of at the manor.

“Yep.” She says, popping the p. Dick and Tim actually didn’t take it bad at all. They just responded with a, cool. Then went back to interrogating her on her whereabouts.

“I was with Clark in Metropolis for a year, then I got trained by ninja assassins for the other two years.” Ari sums up. Tim’s mouth makes and 0 shape and Dick froze.

“The League?” Dick asks quietly

“Outcast from the League.” Ari corrects, before turning and walking into the little kitchen,

“You guys want anything?” She calls from the kitchen,

“Coffee!” Tim yells back immediately, Ari laughs, she saw that one coming.

“I’m good!” Everybody else calls back, including Roy.

Ari returns quickly, carrying a very large to-go cup of coffee, she hands it to Tim, who takes a sip and his eyes widen.

“This is so good.” He moans into the cup, making the entire room burst into laughter.

“So,” Dicks asks, drawing all the attention to him, “How long have you and Roy known each other?” He questions, raising an eyebrow, going into big brother mode even though he’s like, two years older than her.

“He helped me in Metropolis after Ollie kicked him out, then he was the only one the Outcasts allowed to see me during my-training-.” At the mention of her training, Roy flinches subtly, but Jason was the only one who caught it. Jason raises an eyebrow as if to say, we’ll talk about this later.

“Why do you kill people Arianna?” Dick asks sternly, using Ari’s full name, making Roy panic, he appeared behind her, shaking his head wildly, but it was too late. Ari froze up, her skin going pale white, her eyes growing wide, and her knees buckled beneath her. Roy barley caught her, swooping her up into a fireman’s carry. All of the others, rushed over to Ari, eyes swimming in concern.

“What happened?” Dick asked, obviously in complete panic, Roy glared at him,

“You used her full name. They used her full name.” The second part came out almost not audible. Roy raised Ari’s head up, slipping under her after he laid her on the couch. He murmured soothing things to her, running his fingers through her hair. It took 20 minutes to bring her out of her flashback. She shot upright screaming,

“NO! LEAVE THEM ALONE!” Ari looked around and slumped back down,

“Because I’m scared.”

“What?” Roy asked softly,

“I kill people because I’m scared.” That response shocked them all, except Roy. He knew her, better than anybody. Maybe except Jason.

“Ari?” Tim asks hesitantly, “What happened while her were training.” Ari let out a shaky breath,

“I died. Three time.”

“What!” Jason screamed.

“Do you have any idea, what the Lazarus pit can do to you, after three times?” Ari asked, tears rolling down her face, she hid her face in the crook of Roy’s neck.

“Get me out of here, please.” He nodded, throwing a smoke bomb.

When the smoke cleared, Roy and Ari were nowhere to be seen.

“What happened to our sister?” Dick asks quietly, Jason shakes his head, quickly wiping his tears away.

No one saw Ari or Roy for 6 weeks, and when they did, she was fighting Deathstroke.

Ari had been looking for someone to pick a fight with, and it just so happened that Deathstroke was out doing a job.

“Hey Slade!” Ari called out, smirking she pulled out her katanas. Slade rolled his eyes, pulling his swords out as well. Slade charged first, going for an easy kill, attempting to stab her in the gut, but she sidestepped and brought her sword handle down onto Slade’s back. He grunted, then he kicked out his leg, making Ari fall but she backflipped and landed perfectly on her feet. She then went for a full frontal attack, she as a flurry of blades, punches and kicks that Slade could barely avoid. That’s when Batman and Robin (Damian)  showed up, but they let Ari handle it. Slade in a last ditch effort to beat her, jabbed outward, aiming for her heart. Ari dodged and noticed that Slade left his left side open, she kicked him, making him double over, she then elbowed him in the back of the neck. Slade fell to the ground and Ari grabbed him by the back of the neck and lifted him onto his knees, she placed the blade of her katana to his throat and Bruce finally intervened.

“Storm, no.” Bruce stepped forward, and Ari stepped back raising her hands in surrender. When Bruce picked Slade up onto his feet, Ari quickly slide a blade into his chest from behind. Bruce let Slade’s dead body fall to the ground, glaring at Ari, he charged while Damian watched helplessly. Ari deflected Bruce’s punch and landed a kick to his stomach, he swiped at her feet attempting to trip her but she just stepped on his ankle and punched him in the jaw, making him fall to the ground. Ari held the point of her sword to Bruce’s throat,

“Don’t make me kill you Bruce.” He glared up at her,

“We don’t kill.” Ari laughed humorously, making Bruce look up at her in confusion.

“You just don’t seem to understand, do you?” She took the sword away from Bruce and thrust it behind her, it inserted itself into Damian’s stomach, who was trying to sneak up on her, “I. Am. Not. A. Robin. Anymore.” Then she stepped off of Bruce and let him run to his son and swoop him to the hospital or Alfred. Dick slowly approached from the shadows with Tim following his lead,

“Ari, you changed.”

“Yeah, death does that to people, just ask Jason.”

[welllpthisishappening]

Tripping Over the Blue Line (17/45)

It’s a transition. That’s what Emma’s calling it. She’s transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she’s definitely not worried. Nope. She’s fine. Really. She’s promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She’s fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She’s got a job to do. And she doesn’t care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.

He’s done. One more season and he’s a free agent and he’s out. It’s win or nothing for Killian. He’s going to win a Stanley Cup and then he’s going to stop being the face of the franchise and he’s going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won’t be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That’s the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn’t going to change that. At all.

They are both horrible liars.

Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Swearing, eventual hockey-type violence AN: This chapter is rated “F” for feelz - of the sports and romantic type variety. Ariel, meanwhile, continues to be the real MVP. I can’t thank y’all enough for every click, comment, message or flail. It means the world. As always @laurnorder, @distant-rose & @beautiful-swan are heroes.  Also on Ao3, FF.net & tag’ed up on Tumblr.��

The cup was going to burn her hand. She should have gotten one of those gripper things. What were they called? The cardboard things that made sure the cup wouldn’t burn her hands. They had a name.

Emma was certain of it.

It didn’t matter.

She’d forgotten them anyway. And now she was going to burn her hand.

There was a metaphor in there somewhere.

That didn’t matter either.

She shifted on her feet, nerves churning in the pit of her stomach and the back of her throat and she could do this – at least Mary Margaret believed she could do this, promising those exact words to Emma when she’d pushed a mug towards her that morning. That mug didn’t burn her hands.

Because it was a mug. She’d lost track of the metaphor. And, possibly, her life.

She hoped she’d at least gotten the order right. This would all be kind of pointless if she didn’t. He had put sugar in his coffee when they went to Starbucks and B&H, but she’d only really been half paying attention, far too preoccupied with his sunglasses and that slightly nervous smile on his face, but she was fairly certain he hadn’t put milk in his coffee. She hadn’t put milk in the coffee she’d just bought him either, some sort of let’s talk and maybe I’m sorry in the form of a venti black coffee that she couldn’t believe anyone actually wanted to drink.

“You ok?” Emma snapped her head up, eyes wide and she nearly dropped both cups, gripping them just a bit tighter to compensate for her surprise. God damnit, that was hot. “Fuck,” she mumbled, biting out the word under her breath and Ariel laughed softly, gaze tracing across Emma’s undoubtedly tense shoulders.

“You particularly thirsty, right now?”

“What?” Ariel nodded towards the cups clutched in Emma’s hands and her gripped slackened just a bit as she rolled her shoulders back. “Oh,” she said, realization hitting her quickly and she shook her head. “No, no, no, I uh…” She trailed off, biting her lip quickly and she didn’t actually have a reason for lurking in this hallway on the fifteenth floor, a few feet outside of the gym, Victor’s voice drifting towards her ears every few moments, threats of hitting you with the weights if you don’t actually put them down like a normal human being becoming more and more frequent the longer Emma stayed rooted to the spot.

Ariel narrowed her eyes, something that looked a bit like understanding passing across her face. “Right,” she said slowly. “They’re definitely all in there.” Emma knew. She was well aware they were all in there – the entire goddamn first line of the New York Rangers and probably Phillip the Rookie too and that was why she hadn’t moved from her spot, pressed up against the wall with two cups burning her palms. She was the biggest coward in the entire world.

And he’d never answered her back.

She didn’t really sleep the night before.

She hummed in the back of her throat and Ariel smiled at her, that same understanding crossing her face as she took a step closer to the wall Emma was almost positive would have her imprint on it if she stayed pressed against it much longer.

“I hear you’re planning a charity game,” Ariel said conversationally and Emma really shouldn’t be surprised by anything at this point, the whole entire building probably knew her plans by now.

“You heard correctly.” “You going to bribe him with coffee then?”

“Who?” “Killian.” Emma pressed her lips together tightly, sinking her heels into the bright blue carpet and Ariel laughed again, smile inching across her face. “Regina’s got a very big mouth. She told me in some vaguely desperate attempt to get Killian to answer his phone yesterday and I told Mary Margaret, so apologies in advance, or backwards-ness, for being part of the problem and not the solution of this stupid team.” Emma laughed before she could stop herself, a bit of that tension easing out of her shoulders. “That’s ok. And I guess I am a little bit.” “You are a little bit, what?” “Bribing him with coffee,” Emma said, scrunching her nose. Ariel’s smile only widened.

“He’ll totally do it. He could use a bit of good press at this point after he nearly killed that guy in Carolina.” Ariel didn’t notice Emma’s quick intake of breath – or if she did, she didn’t say anything and Emma wasn’t certain which one was better. He’d totally almost killed that guy in Carolina and Ruby must have been up to her ears in paperwork and press releases and pointedly ignoring media requests.

She was half surprised Ruby wasn’t in the gym, throwing Victor’s very expensive weights at Killian.

“He’ll totally do it,” Ariel said again, nodding once like that decided that. “Who are you going to get on the other side?”

“I was thinking Phillip the Rookie, actually.” Ariel’s laugh seemed to take up the entire hallway, the sound inching across every single bit of that ridiculously bright blue carpet and sinking into Emma’s body until she couldn’t come up with a reason to be nervous about anything ever again. What had Killian said before? Ariel was very determined to help when people they needed it?

Emma needed it.

No wonder Mary Margaret liked her so much.

“I love it,” Ariel said and there was no way to question that she absolutely did love it. “Put them on some shirts and this’ll be the greatest event that’s ever happened at the Garden. They’ll probably add you to all those exhibits they’ve got on the concourse.” “I wouldn’t go that far quite yet,” Emma laughed, but she could feel the smile tugging on her face and the cups in her hands had, finally, started to cool down.

This metaphor was absurd.

“Mary Margaret sent me a photo of your dress,” Ariel said, still smiling at Emma. “It’s not bad. I wouldn't go blue, but it’s not bad.” “I think that’s mostly David’s choice honestly,” Emma muttered. “Reese’s would probably pick a totally different color if she could, but we’re on some sort of ridiculous hockey kick and she’s just kind of going along with it.” Ariel nodded seriously and it didn’t quite feel normal – Emma still didn’t know her much more than the team’s director of PT and she’d been part of the set-up that worked, but no one knew worked, but they kept smiling at each other and it felt a bit like it could be normal. Emma needed to stop analyzing everything so much.

This wasn’t LA.

“Aren’t we always on some sort of ridiculous hockey kick?” Will asked, leading a line of professional hockey players out of the gym while Victor continued to grumble about the state of his weights and the streakiness of his mirror. “Those are, like, the rules, right?” Ariel shrugged, making some sort of contradictory noise in the back of her throat and Emma’s shoulders tensed again, every nerve she’d been certain had dissipated just a few moments before returning in full-force.

He was standing behind Robin – team-branded t-shirt and shorts and, probably, sneakers, but Emma didn’t really notice any of it, just met his gaze straight on. And she was glad she was still leaning against the wall, because she probably would have fallen over otherwise, Killian’s eyes far too blue and far too...something she wasn’t willing to actually name.

She took a shaky breath and did her best to smile, well aware that it didn’t actually work the way she’d intended it to. He must not have actually been lifting – his hair wasn’t mussed enough, although a particularly ridiculous voice sounded in the back of her mind, that might have been because the last time Emma had actually seen him in person, his hair was sticking up because she’d run her fingers through it so many times.

His mouth opened slightly, parting just enough that Emma could see his tongue when it flashed over his lower lip. “Hey, Swan,” he said softly.

“Hey. Nice shot last night.” “Thanks.” Will’s head swung back and forth between them, eyes narrowed slightly like he was trying to understand exactly what was going on. Emma was too. “Two shots,” he said after a few more moments. “Cap scored twice.” “That’s true,” Emma admitted, shifting her weight on her feet again and there absolutely wasn’t enough oxygen in this hallway. Or maybe there was too much. She wasn’t quite sure. She gripped the cups a bit tighter in her hands.

“And assisted on Locksley’s empty-netter,” Will added, nodding towards Killian like some sort of proud brother or something. Jeez, this team was stupid.

Killian shook his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded a bit like enough, Scarlet and Will held his hands up in confusion.

“Hey before we get too far into hero-worshipping Killian’s ability to do his job,” Ariel interrupted, “can we talk about how good his shirt with Phillip the Rookie is going to look?”

“What are you talking about, Red?” Killian asked, finally pulling his eyes away from Emma and that was probably good. They couldn’t keep staring longingly at each other with the Rangers first line just a few inches away from them.

Ariel groaned and leaned forward to punch against his shoulder lightly. “You’ve got to do it! Gina said you already said you would.” His eyes snapped back to Emma again, mouth still open and she could see him take a deep breath, shoulders moving a bit more than necessary. He flexed his hand, fingers moving quickly as he tried to touch each one to his thumb.

“Of course I’m going to do it,” Killian said sharply and Emma pressed her shoulder blades into the wall, pushing her heels into the ground until she was half certain she’d worked her way underneath the carpet and the tiled floor. He tilted his head when she looked up at him, something that almost resembled hope in his gaze. And something in her might have shifted or resettled or moved back into place, but she still couldn’t quite take a deep breath and this all felt a bit like a dream.

She’d walked out. She’d walked away.

He was going to help anyway.

“Obviously,” Killian added, widening his eyes at Ariel, but Emma got the distinct impression the word was meant for her. “I’m just not sure where Phillip the Rookie becomes part of the equation.”

Four pairs of eyes landed on Emma and she blinked once when she felt the combined weight of their questioning stares. “I thought I’d ask him to coach the other side,” she said, voice just a bit stronger than she expected it to be. Good. That was good. “You know veteran captain against new up and comer. There’s a whole angle to it. I didn’t come up with the shirt idea though, that was all Ruby.” Robin barked out a laugh, clapping Killian on the shoulder with enough force that he actually leaned forward – just a few inches away from Emma. “I think she just called you old, Jones. Grizzled veteran.” “That’s not even remotely what I said,” Emma argued, but everyone was laughing and even Killian smiled at her.

“It’s alright, Swan,” he promised, reaching his hand out and brushing his fingers over the back of her palm. She couldn’t breathe again. “You’re not entirely wrong, you know.” “Phillip the Rookie will absolutely lose his mind,” Robin continued, laughter clinging to his voice. “You might want to pick a different guy, Emma. He’ll probably lose on purpose, just so he doesn’t take down his hero.” Killian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, come on, Emma,” Will added. “You got to pick a guy who knows how to build a team around him.” “What makes you think I’m going to let any of you pick your teams?” Emma asked, drawing a laugh out of Killian. She grinned at him, eyes flashing his direction before making their way back to Will who’d crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “And what is it you’re suggesting exactly, you want to be in charge of a team?” “Maybe.” “You wouldn’t look as good on the shirt as Phillip the Rookie.” “She’s got you there,” Ariel laughed, hand tugging on the front of Will’s shirt, the blue just a bit worse for wear. “This is, after all, for charity.” “That’s just rude,” Will mumbled. “Fine, fine, put Phillip the Rookie on some sort of charity pedestal. I’ll just hit him a bit harder when we play.” “That’s the spirit,” Emma said.

Will made a face – with a very prominent tongue and eye roll – before stalking down the hallway. Robin shook his head, shooting Emma an apologetic look that practically screamed dad at her. “He won’t hit Phillip the Rookie too hard,” Robin promised. “It’s a charity game. And a really good idea, by the way. Gina told me about it yesterday. Rol’s thrilled. He’s determined to be part of Killian’s team.” Emma’s heart stuttered in her chest, beating out painfully behind her ribs and that wasn’t even fair – he couldn’t be all of that at once, staring at her like she was the center of the goddamn universe and some six-year-old’s hero and he must have gotten fined for that hit in Carolina. She’d tried not to think about it, tried to forget the look on his face – visible even through his visor – when he skated to the box, the complete opposite of how he’d looked when he connected on Phillip the Rookie’s rebound in New Jersey.

They needed to talk.

“I think we can make sure Rol gets what he wants,” Emma said, falling into nicknames that she maybe didn’t really deserve to use yet. She wasn’t sure – she almost, almost felt like part of this team. Ariel was still smiling at her.

“He’ll be thrilled,” Robin laughed. “And he’s excited to see you too soon. He was disappointed you didn’t come uptown for the swing.” Emma pushed her lips together, guilt settling in every inch of her body and she hadn’t really even considered the possibility that Roland Locksley would have realized she didn’t come uptown for a two-game road swing.

Huh.

Maybe she was part of this team.

“I was kind of busy,” she said evasively, waving one of her hands in the air. She was still holding the stupid cups. Robin hummed in the back of his throat, an understanding noise that, somehow, made Emma feel even guiltier and she couldn’t quite bring herself to actually look at Killian, standing stone still just a few feet away from her. “But,” she continued slowly, the beginnings of an idea forming in the back of her mind, “maybe we could do something for the Bruins game on Sunday? I’m going to be in the team suite for most of the game. We’ve got...I’ve got...”

“It’s Henry’s birthday,” Killian said and Emma couldn’t stop herself from staring at him if she tried, surprise coloring her expression as he shrugged in response. Robin’s eyes move d in between them and they were absolutely horrible at under the radar. “He’ll be thrilled,” he said, smiling at Emma. “Come on A, let’s go make sure Scarlet doesn’t start rooting around in the equipment room to try and add to his clothing collection.” “That’s disgusting,” Ariel muttered, but Robin just shrugged and Killian hadn’t stopped looking at Emma yet.

“It is, come on.” Robin slung his arm around her shoulders, tugging her down the hallway and after Will and they were by themselves – or as alone as they could possibly be in the middle of the fifteenth floor.

Emma took a deep breath, tugging her lips over her teeth and she couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. She’d had a plan – or at least half a plan – a well-crafted apology and some kind of almost complete explanation that would make sense and she’d bought coffee. It was probably lukewarm by now.

“Does Will really find clothes in the equipment room?” she asked, rushing over the words like she was trying to see how quickly she could get them out.

Killian blinked once and he was still moving his fingers, the movement almost unnoticeable when he shifted his hand against the side of his leg. “Um,” he said quickly, blinking again and he laughed once before he said anything else, a quiet exhale of air that sounded as if he’d been holding it in for the better part of the last ten minutes. “Probably not so much anymore. But when we first started absolutely. He used to throw them in a pile in the middle of the hallway when I was a rookie. Drove me insane.” “Wait, you lived with Will? When?”

“First couple of seasons. It was an unqualified disaster. We’re both far too stubborn for our own good. I’m surprised we didn’t actually kill each other, honestly.” “So you haven’t always had that ridiculously fancy apartment?” “It’s hardly ridiculous, Swan.” She felt the ends of her mouth tick up and she hadn’t quite realized she’d missed him in some sort of vaguely overwhelming way until just then, missed how he could make her smile and laugh and her shoulders weren’t as tense anymore, even if they hadn’t really gotten to the dramatic part of the conversation yet.

“Yeah, well,” Emma muttered. “When you’re living on a couch, anything above that seems a bit ridiculous. And you’ve got some sort of security guard, so that’s like a whole other level of ridiculous.”

“You’ve said the word ridiculous several times now, love, I think we’ve established that.”

His eyes widened when he’d realized what he’d said, mouth falling open just a bit and Emma hated it – far too aware that she was the reason behind the nerves and the questions he hadn’t really asked yet.

In fact, if she were being completely honest with herself, she’d realize that he hadn’t really asked any questions ever. He’d just waited for her to talk and offered up his own past without prompting, some sort of unspoken understanding that Emma was a bit of an emotional disaster.

“You’d still do it?” Emma asked, eyes falling down towards her shoes and he hummed in confusion. She hadn’t really said anything yet. “I mean the game. You’d still coach the game? I wasn’t...I didn’t…” His sneakers made their way into her eyeline and she barely registered his hand moving, thumb tucked under her chin until she didn’t have much of a choice except to look up at him. He was smiling. “Of course,” he said seriously.

And she was somewhere in the realm of swooning mess, breath rushing out of her and eyes blinking quickly so she wouldn’t do something idiotic like actually start to cry in the middle of the hallway on the fifteenth floor.

“I’d like to help, Swan,” Killian said softly, thumb tracing along the curve of her chin and she couldn’t move because she was still holding bribe-coffee. She didn’t need it. She should have known.

He hadn’t left. Or he’d come back.

She didn’t care about the specifics.

She couldn’t move her arms, couldn’t push her hands into his hair the way she wanted to or pull him close to her, but Emma pressed up on her toes anyway, heels popping out of the flats she had on when her lips hit his.

Killian made some sort of noise, but it wasn’t the surprise Emma had been expecting. It wasn’t even the want that had seemed to define their relationship from that very first set-up. It felt a bit like coming home – or what she’d always imagined coming home would feel like, soft and warm and so goddamn easy it simply felt like she was breathing him in.

His hands landed on the small of her back, fingers tracing out a nonsensical pattern up and down the line of her spine as he pulled her flush against his chest. She could feel him moving against her, shifting every time he took a deep breath and he pulled back slightly, mouth moving away from hers. He ignored her response to that – some type of scoff that was mostly just frustration that they hadn’t even been able to get out of the hallway before they started making out again – but Emma couldn’t really do anything when he started trailing kisses along her jaw, moving up towards her ear and the side of her neck and the entire New York Rangers roster could have shown up and she would have told him to keep going.

Or to never stop.

Probably to never stop.

She yelped when he knocked against her arm, shaking her somewhat tenuous grip on the coffee cup in her right hand and Killian snapped his head up, as if he suddenly realized she hadn’t been touching him that entire time.

“Have you always had those?” he asked, nodding towards the cups.

Emma nodded, head spinning just a bit. “I was, uh, going to charity-game bribe you with coffee.” He pulled his head back, eyebrows low when he looked at her. “You don’t need to do that, love. Although I appreciate the sentiment of it.” “That’s not exactly my strong suit.” “What isn’t?” “Sentiment.” “A work in progress.” “You are far too positive,” Emma muttered, but she couldn’t overlook the way her stomach flipped just a bit at his words, the certainty in a few letters, as if he really did believe in her. Or her ability to be a bit sentimental.

“Nah,” Killian argued. “Just confident.” “In?” He didn’t answer immediately, lips twisted just a bit like he was trying to find the right words and Emma felt a fresh wave of post-makeout guilt hit her immediately. “You want to take a walk?” she asked. “Maybe not sign a lease and take up residence on the fifteenth floor?”

He nodded quickly, hands still on her back and his grip tightened just a bit when he moved, holding the fabric of her dress in between his fingers. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

She’d led them back east, the opposite direction Killian had taken them the last time they’d done this and that had obviously been a mistake because they walked out of the Garden and half a dozen people immediately recognized him and demanded pictures and selfies and at least two of them conveniently had pucks on them like they were just waiting for a professional hockey player to show up on the corner of 34th and 7th.

It took forty-five minutes – forty-five minutes of autographs and photos and they should have gone the opposite direction.

She tried not to dwell on that for too long. She’d already done enough metaphor’ing that afternoon.

“I am so sorry,” Emma said for what felt like the eighteenth time once they pulled themselves away from fans and onto the patch of grass that she’d been leading them towards on 6th Avenue.

She sank into one of the chairs at the city-provided tables and Killian hooked his foot around the other seat, shaking his head as he sat down. “Stop apologizing, Swan. There’s not anything to be sorry about.” “Yeah, but….” “No buts. It’s fine.” He made a face, widening his eyes as if that was that and Emma took a sip of her hot chocolate, cinnamon somehow stronger than normal now that the drink wasn’t threatening to burn her hand. They didn’t say anything and this was stupid – they could have a conversation. They were friends.

Or something a bit more concrete than friends in a high-school type of way that neither one of them had really voiced quite yet.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said again and Killian sighed loudly, rolling his head as he put his half-empty cup down on the table.

“Swan, I thought we’d covered this. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. There are fans. It’s the beginning of the season and…” “No, that’s not what I meant,” she interrupted and Killian’s eyebrows practically flew up his forehead. “I meant...I meant from before. I’m sorry about before.”

“Oh,” he muttered, shifting back in his chair and stretching his legs out until his sneakers threatened to brush against the side of her flats.

Emma took a deep breath and tried to remember the explanation she’d come up with on the train that morning, a semi-detailed reason for why she’d run and how she didn’t really want to run anymore and that she maybe, maybe, trusted him.

She didn’t say any of that. “I like you,” she said instead, blurting out the words in the middle of the jam-packed park with tourists and Macy’s bags and a Waffles and Dinges cart. Killian’s eyes widened, but he sat up a bit straighter and she could see the muscles in his throat move when he swallowed, tongue darting into the corner of his mouth.

“That so?” he asked softly.

“Like a lot.”

“Well that works out fairly well since I like you too.” “Yeah?” “Like a lot.” Emma sighed and both of her lungs might have actually been collapsing for all the air that seemed to rush out of them at once, head falling forward just a bit until her hair found its way into her eyes. And it shouldn’t have made sense to hear him laugh – the sound barely audible over the crowd and the tourists and the cars – but she could. She could hear him laugh and when she lifted her head he was smiling at her, staring at her in that way she couldn’t quite name or completely understand yet.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Emma muttered, mouth dry despite the absurd amount of hot chocolate she kept drinking. “That’s just kind of my thing.” “Your thing?” Emma nodded slowly. “Seems to be everyone’s thing, honestly. Or it did.” “What do you mean?” “Everyone’s always left,” she said, words jumbled just a bit like she’d never actually learned the English language. She kept staring at her hands. “All the time and so, I’ve just learned to respond in kind. I walked out and I didn’t say anything or do anything and you still told Regina you’d coach and you’ve shown up every single time I’ve asked. I don’t get it.” Killian moved again, pulling his legs back up as he crossed his arms lightly over his chest. “What are you getting at, love?” “I don’t understand why you’d want to.” The words were out of her mouth before she could realize what she was saying or asking and once she did, Emma couldn’t quite believe she’d done it, terror shooting through every vein and every artery until she was positive there was more emotion coursing through her system than any actual blood.

She twisted her hands together, wrists moving in almost impossible ways until Killian reached forward, tugging her fingers apart and lacing them through his own.

“Hey,” he said softly, thumb moving over the back of her palm until she stopped fidgeting at this very public table. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” She must have found an extra bit of oxygen, because Emma sighed and she had fallen face first in swooning and romance with an ease that both terrified her and made her half believe that the world might actually be an ok place where things didn’t always end in disappointment.

“All you have to do, Swan,” Killian continued, tugging her hand up until his lips were against her knuckles. “Is trust me.” “I’m not particularly good at that. “Another work in progress then.” “Did you get fined?” Emma asked and he made a noise at the abrupt shift in conversation. “You looked like you wanted to kill that guy.” “No one got murdered.” “Almost. Was it bad?” “Ruby didn’t tell you?” Emma shook her head, making a face. “I’ve been kind of game-focused for the last two days. I’ve got to get budget ideas to Zelena by the end of the week and I’ve never done anything like that before and I might have been feeling slightly to moderately guilty.”

“About?” “I shouldn’t have left.”

He brushed his lips over her fingers again, squeezing just a bit tighter than he had to as if he was a little worried she’d just get up and walk away from that table as well. “It’s alright, Swan.” “Was there a fine?” “Two,” he laughed. “I was late for film.” “I’m sorry.” “If you say that one more time, love, I might flip this table.”

Emma laughed, nodding as if that was the only reasonable response to yet another muttered apology. “You think we can just be...normal?” “Normal?” “Well I mean as normal as it’s possible to be when one of us has a life-sized photo of themselves on the side of Madison Square Garden.”

Killian shrugged, lips twisted slightly and that wasn’t even fair. He ran his hands through his hair, pushing back on the slightly wobbly chair provided by the city of New York until he was balancing on the back two legs and Emma eyed him critically. “What exactly qualifies as normal in this situation?” It was a fair question, almost too fair – because no matter what they did he was still going to have a life-sized photo of himself on the side of Madison Square Garden and there’d still be fans waiting outside the team exit asking for autographs and conveniently holding pucks like that was a thing people normally did.

And Emma nearly got up and walked away again.

She almost pushed through the tourists and the Macy’s bags and she probably would have knocked over several of these ridiculously rickety chairs, but she didn’t. She didn’t move. She sat still.

And stared.

Killian just lifted his eyebrows, waiting for her to answer. She wasn’t sure she had one. She wanted just as much as she had before the opener and after the opener and as soon as he walked out of the gym and that couldn’t have really only been an hour ago, could it?

Emma clicked her tongue and shifted in her seat, trying to find a way to move without having a piece of metal pushed into her spinal cord. “I’m not entirely sure there is a normal in this situation,” she admitted.

“Then what do you want to do?” It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her that – he’d said the same thing in between 8th and 9th Ave. He’d asked the same thing when they were somewhere in the realm of ripping off each other’s clothes in his ridiculously expensive apartment. He kept giving her an out.

She didn’t want one.

“I like you,” Emma said again and it wasn’t enough, hardly eloquent or even remotely the same as what he’d told her when she’d run away, but it was some sort of cosmic leap for her. And she knew he understood.

Of course he did.

Killian beamed at her, pushing the chair back on both of its legs and leaning across the table to grab both of her hands in his.

“Tell me something,” he said.

Emma lowered one of her eyebrows, but the terror she was certain was inevitable never quite came and she didn’t pull her hands out of his. She moved her fingers instead, working them in between Killian’s until her thumb found that one ridge of scarred skin and she traced the pad of her finger over it. He didn’t stop her.

“Like what?” Emma asked.

“You talk to Bobby Flay yet?”

She laughed, smile meeting his in the middle of the park and she realized she didn’t care if it wasn’t ever particularly normal. He kept making her smile. “I have not talked to Bobby Flay yet,” Emma admitted and his grin somehow got bigger, eyebrows lifted in a way that made her stomach clench and her heart thump erratically. “I have, however, picked a date?” “That so?”

“Yup,” she said, popping her lips on the final letter. “March. The fifth if you want to get really specific. Post-Casino Night. Zelena went nuts for that. We’re going auction off a whole bunch of stuff so get ready to pose for like a million and two photo-ops with season tickets.” “I think I can handle that, Swan.” “Good because you didn’t really have much of a choice. Regina was very quick to agree to all of this by the way.” “That’s because she’s under some sort of impression that she knows what’s best for me. She and Locksley more or less adopted me when Liam got hurt. Sometimes I think they consider me as much their kid as Rol.” Emma let out a low whistle and, eventually, he was going to say something or do something that didn’t make her head spin just a bit or land far too close to home to be completely comfortable or entirely coincidental.

“What?” Killian asked, head tilted in concern.

“I am absolutely Reese’s and David’s kid. For as long as I can remember. It was like once they decided they were it for one another, True Love with capital letters and all that, they needed an outlet for all that emotion. I got most of it.” “Which explains why they were so quick to offer up their couch.” “Exactly that.”

Emma laughed once, eyes closed lightly as she remembered school and how they’d gone to a party once their sophomore year – a themed party that required them to dress like Lady Gaga and she’d drawn a lightning bolt on her face with eyeliner – and they got so drunk that David came to get both of them, half-carrying them each to his car because his apartment was closer than the closet they lived in.

He celebrated the anniversary of that night every year, blasting Poker Face in their slightly disgruntled faces until both Emma and Mary Margaret cracked and laughed and screamed back all the lyrics at the top of their lungs.

It had always been like that – the three of them with some sort of us against the world mentality that only occasionally felt a bit awkward when Emma found herself on the outside looking in on relationship perfection.

Someday she wouldn’t be jealous.

Or pretend like she wasn’t jealous.

“How’d you end up in Boston?” Killian asked suddenly, shaking Emma out of memories and emotions and she knew she gasped slightly when his face shifted, teeth pressed into his lower lip tightly.

“I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life,” she said honestly, words falling out of her easier than she expected. She didn’t think about that. Or how Killian shifted his shoulders just a bit when she actually answered his question, hands still wrapped up in hers as he squeezed just a little more than normal.

“You know I actually thought about being a cop?” Emma asked. She appreciated the way his eyes widened at that, humming slightly in the back of her throat. “That’s all David now and it’s probably for the best because there’s like an insane amount of running involved and that’s just not really for me at all.

I’d been in Boston for...a while when I was a kid,” she continued, brushing over the group home and the kids and how her stuff always, somehow, seemed to go missing in that overcrowded room. She hated it there, but it had been the longest she’d ever stayed anywhere – two years until she was twelve and the house shut down and she got shipped to Florida and then Missouri and six months in Iowa and, eventually, Minnesota.

And when she graduated and Minnesota was a not-so-distant, but just as bitter memory, she’d packed up her one box and schlepped back to Boston, hoping against hope that, maybe, it wouldn’t be quite so bad that time.

It wasn’t.

Mary Margaret and David made sure of that.

“Anyway,” Emma said sharply, doing her best to keep those pesky emotions and depressing backstory in check. Not yet. She couldn’t tell him that yet. “I figured I’d get out of Minnesota and come back to the East Coast and I got into BU and, well, that was that. I figured I’d just pick something once I got to school, but that was kind of easier said than done, especially when everyone around me seemed to be on the fast track to some sort of plan and degree and saving the world.” “You know people who save the world, Swan?” Killian asked, that smirk doing absolutely absurd things to her ability to maintain this almost normal conversation.

“Well, David is a cop,” she reasoned. “And Reese’s is a fourth-grade teacher. Aren’t those everyday heroes or something?” “If we’re following the Hallmark route.” “In this case we are. Trust me on this one, they’re other-level. The pinnacle of all that is good and pure in the world.”

“Well they did get you to New York,” he muttered and Emma’s mouth dropped open. This not-so-emotional conversation had taken a very sudden turn. And he needed to stop saying things like that. Or she’d keep thinking things she shouldn’t.

Emma shrugged, not entirely trusting herself to say anything else. “They both always knew what they wanted to do, declared before they even got to school and there I was, taking generic 100 classes just so I could stay full-time.” “So what changed?” “Hockey.” “Hockey?” She nodded. “It was...October? Preseason for sure. David was sitting in our living room waiting for Reese’s to come out and he’d stolen the remote and was hogging the TV and he kept talking about the team in reverent tones until I finally started to listen to him. He was watching the Rangers. I didn’t get it at all at first. I’d never watched a hockey game before, never even really cared about sports before, but he stole the remote and turned on a shitty preseason game and it was like everything fell into place. I loved it. I didn’t understand it, but I loved it. The speed of it and the sound of it and there’s some almost kind of...I don’t know...romantic about it.” “Romantic?” Killian repeated skeptically and Emma wasn’t certain if he meant to hold her hand even tighter. Probably not.

They were just….dating? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Friends who did whatever they’d done after the opener and then thought about it for a questionable number of days afterwards because it might have been the best night of Emma’s entire life?

Emma made a noise in the back of her throat and tried to pull her hand out of Killian’s grip so she could wave them in the air. He didn’t let go of her hand.

“Romantic,” she said again. “I had this whole idea of what a team should be because that’s what David kept calling it. He still does it now. He calls you guys the team, he rarely even uses Rangers, like it’s some other kind of group and somewhere in the back of my mind I always thought that’s how it was supposed to be. A group working together for a goal and a dream and all sorts of sentimental nonsense.” “Isn’t it?” “Here, I guess. Not in Vancouver. Or LA. Definitely not in LA. You know Stevenson, the Kings captain?” Killian nodded. “He used to take shots at the guys during practice and he legitimately went to league-mandated anger management the season before I left. It was nothing like it was here. There were a couple of groups and guys that almost got along, but the game ended and it was as if everything team-oriented just stopped.” Killian looked at her for half a moment and Emma got the distinct impression he was trying to read her – certain there was still something she wasn’t telling him.

Open book.

“I didn’t know that,” he said.

“We tried to keep it out of headlines. There were a couple of Twitter rumors, but it never got much bigger than that.” “Good at your job, love.” “PR was the only thing I was even remotely qualified for. I declared two weeks after David showed me that first game and I started working for the team at school. I lived at Agganis during college. I think half the team was convinced I actually did.” “Wasn’t there a Frozen Four appearance somewhere in there?” Emma nodded slowly, a bit stunned that he knew that. “Yeah,” she muttered. “My junior year. We went to Tampa of all places. That was the first time I’d been to Florida since…”

She snapped her jaw shut, pain shaking through her mouth when he teeth clacked together. “Since what?” Killian asked.

“I lived in Florida when I was a kid.” “Boston, Florida and Minnesota?” Emma nodded and he didn’t sound like he was pressing for information. He sounded genuinely curious. He sounded like he actually wanted to know. Huh. “That’s a lot.” “I moved around a lot when I was a kid,” she said evasively and Killian hummed in the back of his throat.

And she got the distinct impression – again – that he knew she still wasn’t telling him something, but it might not have really mattered. He looked like he understood, or could read or face or find the hidden meaning in between the letters of finding hockey romantic.

Emma wanted a team. Emma wanted a family. She needed both of them – a bit desperately if she was being honest with herself.

She’d never found it. Not completely.

She’d lived everywhere, but nothing ever felt right and even playing the role of Mary Margaret and David’s surrogate child felt a bit false, still the weird, third corner of their makeshift triangle.

And that stupid, ridiculous voice in the back of her mind practically screamed at her, jumping around on her cerebellum and bouncing off the sides of her skull, shouting you’ve found it here as if Emma didn’t find herself thinking it every time she walked into her office or came up with another part of the charity game plan or when Killian Jones, captain of the goddamn New York Rangers, looked at her like she was the center of everything.

She might have thought it then.

“So, I got the PR degree and the internship with the Bruins, which might have actually ruined David’s entire life, and the trip to the Frozen Four and I ended up in Vancouver as like the lowest level of the totem pole. But I worked until I could hardly see straight and they made me manager of public relations my last year there.” Killian opened his mouth, but Emma was quicker with her answer and he laughed softly when she kept talking. “I ended up in LA by accident. They had the director opening and I applied on a whim. I was fairly certain I wouldn’t even get an interview, let alone an entire department.” “You’re good at your job, Swan,” Killian said intently and Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Tell me that after I figure out this charity game budget.” “Deal.” “You think Phillip the Rookie will be game to coach? I haven’t even asked him yet.” “Sure he will,” Killian said.

“You gonna slam him into the boards if he doesn’t automatically agree to it?” “I resent the implication, love,” he laughed. “I’m not normally the one on this team who gets five-minute majors, you know.” “That strictly Scarlet territory?” “Exactly. And as you’ll remember I’m a bit out of fighting shape. The only reason I know how to check is because Liam was always good at that. Guys used to actually skate away from him at school when he’d come up to forecheck on him. He had this way of getting under your shoulder blades. It’d hurt for days.” “I take it you’re well experienced in feeling that particular brand of pain?”

“Older brothers have a way of making sure you do.” Emma laughed, but she felt that telltale tension between her shoulders – always appearing whenever Killian started talking about a family and she knew everything she was thinking read on her face as clear as day. “Rol’s going to have to find a new name for you,” she said, doing her best to redirect the conversation.

“Ah, I don’t know about that. I could hit if I wanted. We do play Pittsburgh again soon, after all.” “Don’t even joke about that.” He smiled at her, eyes flashing up towards hers and if he kissed across her knuckles one more time she was going to hit him. Or maybe add the park outside Macy’s to the list of places they’d made out.

She hadn’t really decided yet.

“Phillip the Rookie will absolutely coach,” Killian said. “And not because any of the first liners would absolutely board him if he didn’t agree to it immediately, but because he’d do whatever you asked, love. You’ll find, I think, that you’ve carved out quite a spot for yourself on this team. And it doesn’t have anything to do with me either. This is all you, Swan. You’re doing something good here. He’ll do it.” Emma blinked quickly and took a deep breath, pressing her lips together so she didn’t start shouting overly emotional responses at him across the table.

She believed him.

“I told Reese’s,” she said and she should probably stop just blurting out words.

Killian, however, surprised her again – laughing loudly as he threw his head back and his hair flew across his forehead when he moved back to stare at her.

“Well that puts us on slightly more even footing, Swan, because I told El too.” “When?” “Before morning skate yesterday. She knew as soon as I hit that guy in Carolina.” She scoffed, shaking her head slightly. “I told Reese’s during the game yesterday. I think she kicked David out of the apartment so she could accost me with a bottle of wine and demands to explain why I’d been walking around in a funk since the opener.” “Were you?” “What?” “Walking around in a funk since the opener?” “Yeah,” Emma said easily. “I mean it wasn’t absolutely destroying some unsuspecting Hurricanes player with my stick, but it was a very definitive type of funk.” “At least yours didn’t end in a fine and a very early-morning phone call from your sister-in-law that broke the game-day schedule.” “You have a game-day schedule?” “Set in stone for the last five years. Locksley was furious.” “I can’t imagine Robin being furious about anything.” “Wait until we get closer to the playoffs. He gets very focused, starts barking out orders and he’s very specific about what he eats in March.” “Only March?” Emma asked. “That’s weird.” “Hockey’s a weird sport, Swan.” “Just this team, I think,” she muttered.

“Your team.” Emma nodded, lips pulled tightly back behind her teeth so she didn’t actually start to cry or display some absurd level of emotion. “And I’m sorry too,” Killian added.

“For?” “I like you,” he said simply. She understood what he meant.

“Everyone’s always left,” Emma whispered. “So I started making sure I left before anyone could, before I could get my…” “What?” “Heart broken again.” He was still holding her hand. Emma had almost forgot, fingers laced together tightly and his thumb moving across her wrist and it all felt so normal she hadn’t even remembered he was still touching her until he squeezed her hand again.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Swan, but I’m glad to hear it.” “You’re glad to hear I got my heart broken?” Killian nodded slowly, tugging her hand back up and she barely heard him when he spoke again, voice mumbled just a bit with his lips pressed up against her knuckles. “If it can be broken, it means it still works.” Her heart must have taken that as some sort of personal challenge – beating out faster than it ever had and Emma’s lungs suddenly felt too small again, incapable of doing their biologically-determined job.

He wasn’t done talking.

“I’m sorry we’ve been all over the place, Swan. I think we’ve broken every rule either one of us has tried to set in the last month and a half and we could stop this right now and move back into some sort of strictly professional relationship, if you want. I’ll still coach the game and you can put my face on every t-shirt if you want, but…” “But?” “But I kind of hate the idea of not kissing you.”

She moved, table pressing into her stomach uncomfortably, but Emma barely gave herself half a second to consider the pain a single piece of metal could inflict on her organs before she felt Killian’s lips on hers and then she didn’t think about anything except that.

And how much she hated the idea of not kissing him.

“You said relationship,” she mumbled.

“Isn’t it?” he asked and she didn’t miss the question within the question, the unspoken bit of hope in his voice.

He’d been broken just as much as she had.

“I think so,” Emma whispered. She kissed him before he could see the emotion on her face and no one said anything when they walked back into the Garden together.