#like three years later Tim finally comes clean to everyone all 'yeah i have no spleen'
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I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 3
Batfamily x Batsis Story!
Word Count: 2.1K
Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst!
Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines
Author's Note: DUN DUN DUN!!!! Y'all enjoy this now, because it's only gonna get so much more angstier soon. -Thorne
Set Three Months After PT. 2:
She didn’t have to look up to know who entered the shop, because his voice carried over the air. “Melisandre!”
Humming, she immediately plated a pastry and a hot coffee, sliding it on the counter just as he sat down. “Good morning, Wally,” she greeted, watching him take a bite. “Right on time, as always.”
He smiled, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. “Morming Merisamdmur,” he replied, and she rolled her eyes with a snort.
“Jeez Wally, didn’t your mom teach you to not talk with your mouth full?”
Shrugging, he swallowed and said, “I was trying to be polite.”
“I think it’s more polite to chew with your mouth closed and speak after you swallow.”
They glared at each other before one of them cracked a smile and they fell into laughter. She tossed a napkin his way. “How’s your day going so far?”
Wally groaned and laid his head on the cool marble countertop. “I’ve got so much to do today, it’s not even funny.”
“Well, well, Wally the procrastinator is finally feeling his toes at the fire, huh?” She ignored his glare. “What do you have to do?”
“Barry needs my help with my cousins and my friends are coming over today to hangout and I haven’t bought any food or drinks for that and I have yet to even start cleaning my house.”
She giggled and reached over, patting his head sympathetically. “There, there, Wally. Everything will be alright. Why don’t you just bring your cousins over to your house and watch them while you hang out with your friends?”
“Because my cousins are annoying and I’m not subjecting my friends to that,” he countered and propped his chin on his palm. “Unless…”
She cocked a brow and waited for him to continue and he offered, “You come over with my cousins and help me watch them?”
“No.”
“What! Why?”
“Well for starters, I don’t know your friends and it would be weird for me to just show up.” She countered.
“They’ll like you though!” he cried, and his hand shot out, wrapping around hers. “Please, Melisandre!”
“Wally, I’ll just watch your cousins at my apartment and Iris can just come get them later, that’ll be easier and won’t force me to sit in a group of people who don’t know me.” He tried to speak but she tossed another napkin, hitting him in the face. “I’m watching Dawn and Don so you and your friends can hang out without being bothered, and that’s final.”
His face pinched. “You sure you can keep up with them?”
Something passed between them and she quirked a brow. “I can keep up with you, can’t I, Wally?”
Wally chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a fair point.” He glanced at her. “They would like you though.”
She ignored the comment in favor of, “Tell me about them. What are they like?”
He inhaled sharply and took a moment to think. “Donna’s strong willed, Roy’s loud, Lilith likes to get in your head, Garth is easy to annoy, and Dick’s kinda the glue that keeps us together.”
“Dick? He get that from Richard by asking nicely?”
Wally barked a laugh. “Oh, I’m definitely gonna tell him you said that.” He nodded. “But yeah, his name is Richard Grayson, but he goes by Dick.”
Her eyes almost bulged out of her head and she was lucky that Wally was looking at his watch then.
Don’t ask. Don’t do it. Leave it alone.
But she couldn’t stop herself.
“Richard Grayson?” she feigned. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
Wally met her eyes. “Bruce Wayne.”
She snapped her fingers. “Right! The ward.” Wiping the counter, she added, “I heard they added a new addition to that family too. A daughter, right? Cassie? Cassidy?”
“Cassandra,” Wally corrected. “Yeah, that’s Dick’s new sister.” He put his elbows on the counter. “She’s nice, doesn’t talk a lot though.”
“The quiet one, then?”
He laughed. “Of them all.”
Don’t dig any deeper, (Y/N). Keep your fucking mouth shut and let it go.
“I always wondered what happened to that other daughter he had,” she murmured, and Wally’s face blanched like he’d witnessed a murder.
“What?”
She met his gaze. “He had another daughter. I think her name was (Y/N).”
He swallowed thickly. “He does.”
“Does? She’s still around?”
“Yeah, she’s in some Italian villa.”
“Wait really? I thought she died or something?”
“What? No! She left—” Wally snapped his mouth shut like he was about to reveal a secret, but she knew anyways. “She left and went to Europe for a mental retreat.” He finalized and she wondered if that was the story Dick told him to say if anyone asked. Or maybe it was Bruce.
“It’s been like three years now, right? You’d think she’d post something on social media.”
“The whole point of a mental retreat, Melisandre, is to get away from social media.”
Oh please, I know plenty of elite who do that shit and still post crap on their socials.
“There’s no way that girl hasn’t.”
“Why do you say that?”
She scoffed. “Oh please, she’s the daughter of a multi-billionaire. There’s no way a girl that wears Gucci belts and carries Prada purses keeps herself off social media.”
Wally’s eyes narrowed like he was thinking hard about something and she internally cursed.
Oh, smooth move you dumbass.
She coughed and waved a hand. “Well, it’s all theory anyway.”
After a moment, he nodded. “Yeah…theory.” Wally got to his feet and handed her the empty plate. “I should go ahead and get back to my place and clean up before they get here.”
“Have fun,” she smiled, and he grabbed her arm.
“Take a pic with me.”
“What? Why?”
“So, I can tell my friends about you and prove I’m not lying.” He pouted. “Pretty please, Melisandre?”
Don’t do it. Dick will know. You know he’ll know.
She smiled despite her internal thoughts. “Sure.”
Wally grinned and raised the camera where she was in the background. She threw up a peace sign and gave a cheesy grin, momentarily blinded by the flash of the camera.
She spun and filled a bag with pastries then handed it to him. “Here, so you can give even more proof.”
Wally took the bag and hopped onto the counter, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks Melisandre!” And he was dashing out the door.
You’ve ruined it all. This is going to come back to bite you in the ass. And it’s going to come quicker than you think.
She frowned and wiped down the counter again, trying to ignore her thoughts. Maybe. Just maybe, it wouldn’t.
***
Waving Barry and Iris off, she smiled as the twins climbed into the backseat of their car and the taillights signaled their departure. She closed the door behind her and glanced at the mess the two tornadoes had left. Even for the little she had in her apartment, they sure did know how to make a mess.
She sighed as she bent over to pick up one of the cushions when her doorbell rang and she stood up, confusion coming over her as she made her way to the door.
“Hello?” she asked, and a muffled voice echoed from the other side.
“Melisandre, it’s me, Wally. Can I come in?”
She opened the door, surprised to see him. “Wally? What are you doing here? I thought you were with your friends?”
“Yeah, I told them I had to do something really quickly,” he said as entered her apartment. He took a moment to examine her living room. “Man, Dawn and Don did a number here, didn’t they?”
She chuckled. “We had fun building forts.” Nudging him in the side, she added, “I don’t mind the mess.” She looked at him. “Do your friends know? About you being…you know?”
He nodded. “We’re all special in some way.”
Understatement there, Wally.
“So, why tell them you need to do something then come to me? Is everything alright?”
Busying herself with the couch cushions, she waited for him to explain, but nothing could’ve prepared her for his words.
“It will be once I get to the bottom of it…(Y/N).” She froze for a split second, but it was all he needed. “It really is you, isn’t it?”
(Y/N) stood upright and gazed at him. “When did you know?” Her voice was a lot colder than she meant for it to be.
“I had suspicion for a while, but when I showed the picture to everyone, Dick said it looked like you.”
“Really?” she laughed. “I thought I did a good job changing my appearance from three years ago.”
Wally didn’t laugh, he merely gaped at her. “Why?”
“Why what?” (Y/N) knew what he was referring to.
“Why’d you just leave?” He took a step towards her. “Do you have any idea what your family has gone through since you disappeared on them? The grief? The shame?”
She shrugged. “I explained everything in the letter I wrote my dad, Wally. There’s no reason why they should still be concerned with me.”
“They love you!” he shouted, taking her by surprise. “They love and miss you so much!”
“My family ignored me for eighteen years straight, Wally!” She yelled right back. “What was I supposed to do? Sit and pretend being forgotten was all normal?!” (Y/N) couldn’t help but shove at his chest. “I chose to leave because my next choice was taking a swan dive off Wayne Enterprises!”
His eyes went wide, and she shook her head. “I left because the only person who cared about me, was me.” She turned and fixed the final couch cushion while he watched her do so.
“They’re still looking for you, you know. Dick is always staring at his phone hoping there’s a text from Jason or Tim that they’ve found a sign of you.”
(Y/N) sighed. “If you’re trying to guilt trip me, Wally, it’s not going to work.” She shot him a glare. “I got over the fucking guilt the second the flight to Central took off. I got over the fucking guilt the night I laid in a hotel room bed curled into a ball where I cried myself to sleep. I got over the fucking guilt the moment I realized I’ve done so much better on my own than when I was there.”
She marched up to him and got in his face. “I got over the fucking guilt when I realized Barry and Iris Allen were more of a family than four brothers and dad ever were.”
They glared at each other and finally, she let out a sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve already started a new life here and I have no plans of ever going back.”
“At a college that doesn’t have a real name. You know that’s illegal, right?”
(Y/N) scoffed. “What’re you gonna do, Wally? March into four-C and tell them Bruce Wayne’s daughter is going to school under a false name? We both know you wouldn’t.”
“I’ll tell Dick,” he suddenly shot back, and she went rigid.
“You wouldn’t dare,” (Y/N) threatened and he took a step towards her, getting nose to nose with her.
“Try me.”
They stared one another down and she said, “I think you need to leave, Wally West.”
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I guess I should.” He spun on his heel and marched to the door, but stopped when she questioned,
“Are you really going to tell him?”
Wally gazed at the ground for a moment then he murmured, “…No…it’s not my place to.”
(Y/N) swallowed and nodded. “Thank yo—”
“Don’t thank me, (Y/N). I’m lying to my best friend about knowing the real location of his baby sister he misses dearly.”
She looked away. “Cassandra is his baby sister now. He should focus on her.”
“You really have no idea about what they feel for you, do you, (Y/N)?” He asked, and she grunted.
“Get out, Wally.”
“Don’t worry, I’m gone,” he spat, slamming the door behind him, hard enough that it shook the walls that held the doorframe.
(Y/N) stared at the door for a few moments then cursed sharply and collapsed onto her couch, eyes directed to the ceiling. Three years down the drain in one conversation.
Way to go, (Y/N). You did a spectacular job of keeping it all under wraps.
She groaned and picked herself off the couch, not caring about the mess as she headed to bed. She’d deal with it all in the morning.
#batfamily x reader#batfamily x reader imagines#batfamily x reader imagine#batfamily imagines#batfamily imagine#batsis x batfam#batsis x batfamily#batsis x batfamily imagines#batsis x batfamily imagine#batsis imagines#batsis imagine#batsis#batfamily#bruce wayne#batman#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#tim drake#red robin#damian wayne#robin#cass wayne#cass cain#cassandra cain#cassandra wayne#black bat#batgirl#wally west
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Subcon Babysitter Chap. 1-Deja Vu
NEW AHIT STORY!!!
So I came up with this story one day in the AHIT Server about a Time Skip AU where Hat, Bow, and Mu leave their kids with Snatcher while going on a mission. It got my beta reader and my friends interested so I started planning the story during my breaks at work, and boy you guys are in for a ride!
From the planning process there is SO much to offer for this fanfic, and I hope you guys like what’s in store.
Thanks to @gigilefache for being my beta reader!
Enjoy!
25 years have passed since Hat Kid and Bow Kid came to Earth, recollected their Time Pieces, and defeated Mustache Girl, who later became her best friend. They stayed on the planet for a bit before leaving to go on a new journey with Mustache Girl in tow.
Everyone missed the young girls, except well maybe one. A particular ghost that ruled over a forest shrouded in darkness.
Snatcher sighed as he read one of his old law books. It was a relaxing day, which was quite rare in Subcon. No trespassers in the forest, all the Subconites have done their duties with no problems, and there were no troublesome little girls running around and causing trouble.
Snatcher frowned and turned to the wall that was filled with drawings and pictures of Hat Kid, her sister Bow, and their best friend Mustache Girl. He let out a sigh as he grabbed one of the last photos he took of the girls.
It was on Hat and Bow’s 11th birthday and they were told that they had to head back home as they were at the right age to be mentors for the future kid travelers. However, they didn’t want to leave just yet as they wanted to celebrate their birthday with their friends on Earth, which as they said, "the council agreed on."
Bow even asked if Mustache Girl could join them as she had no home thanks to the Mafia banning her from Mafia Town for good. Even though the council didn’t want an outsider, The CEO of time, Tim decided to allow it after hearing her story.
God, Snatcher remembered that day:
“Hey Snatcher?” Hat Kid had asked. Snatcher turned to the kid as he cleaned up the table from the birthday party that just ended. “When I’m gone are you gonna miss me?”
Snatcher scoffed. “Do I look like the kind of ghost that will miss you, kiddo?” He asked.
“W-well, You took care of me and Bow, and you did take Mu in for a while. Plus you’ve been awfully quiet about it so…” Hat Kid paused as she gave a sheepish smile. “Yes.”
It was silent between the two, before Snatcher smirked and broke the silence with his signature laughter. Hat Kid flinched by the laughter, despite hearing it for two years it still startled her.
“Oh kiddo, so naïve as usual. I don’t miss anyone, when they leave I move on. That’s it.” Snatcher answered.
Hat Kid started to feel a lump in her throat. “So all those times together meant nothing to you?” She asked.
“Nope. In fact, since you're leaving this planet forever, I believe our contract is done.” Snatcher snapped his fingers as he put a stamp on Hat Kid’s BFF contract as it turned to ash.
The alien child’s eyes widened as she felt her heart break. She stepped back from Snatcher as she fought hard to hold back tears.
“Oh o-okay.” Hat Kid choked off. Before she could cry in front of Snatcher, she quickly teleported back to her ship.
Snatcher finally got all the dishes gathered and he turned around to see if Hat Kid was still standing there only to see she was gone. He didn’t feel guilty for what he did…yet…
All Snatcher knew was Hat Kid might come by and say goodbye to him tomorrow before she blasted off to space and went back home.
At least that’s what Snatcher thought…
The following day, Snatcher came out of his treehouse after seeing that Hat Kid wasn’t here. A trio of Subconites sighed as two were kicking a stone around.
“Why are you three so glum?” Snatcher asked.
“The kid…she left.”
“Yeah. That’s why we had that party last night, remember?” Snatcher reminded them.
“No boss!” The 2nd Subconite yelled. “I mean she left without saying goodbye.” Snatcher felt his nonexistent heart drop.
“W-what?”
“She said she’ll be here for a little bit to say bye and give gifts, but she didn’t?” The 3rd and smaller Subconite questioned.
Snatcher breathed heavily. “N-no.” He whispered. Quickly he left and went to look for the kid. Snatcher was thinking Hat Kid had to be somewhere on this planet and just forgot about Subcon because of…last night.
Once Snatcher made it to the clearing his eyes widened when he couldn’t see Hat Kid’s ship up in the sky anymore. “No. No.” Snatcher whispered as she sank down. Hat Kid was gone, for good and the last thing he did was say that he never even cared.
Snatcher didn’t realize he was crying until he saw tears fall onto the picture. “Kiddo, I miss you. I’m so sorry for all the things I said.” Snatcher whispered. He wiped the tears off of his face. “I just wish I can make it up to you somehow, to all of you.” He put the picture down and slowly went back to his chair and read his book.
“Boss! Boss!” A subconite yelled.
“WHAT!?!” Snatcher snapped back causing the Subconite to skid to a halt.
“W-we got some new v-victims that fell in one of your t-traps.” The Subconite stuttered.
Snatcher’s eyes widened as a smile formed in his face. “Well, what are we standing here for! Let’s go!” He beamed as he dashed out of his home in a flash. The ghost dashed through the forest sensing where the new souls were located. There he saw someone struggling to break out of the trap, Snatcher chuckled and with a swipe of his claws the trap broke as a few yells were heard falling from the trap.
Soon the atmosphere changed as Snatcher grew bigger as he let out his chilling laugh. “FOOOOO…” Snatcher paused as he felt his eyes widened. If he still had a stomach he would’ve felt it drop just now.
From the trap we’re three little girls that looked strikingly familiar. The first girl was a blonde haired girl with a small goutte on her face, and a star hair clip. She had golden eyes and wore a long sleeved red and pink shirt, brown shorts and scarlet shoes.
The other little girl had dark skin and dark hair which was tied into a bun with a big indigo colored ribbon and had deep purple eyes. She wore a big blue shirt and wore a white cape tied into a blue ribbon and wore black pants and boots.
The last little girl was what made Snatcher tear up. She looked short brown hair and wore a yellow and white top hat and had ocean blue eyes. She wore a yellow and brown steampunk vest over a white blouse with a medallion with an engraved hourglass on it brown pants and brown boots.
“Oh my Subcon.” Snatcher gasped as the biggest wave of deja vu smacked him in the face.
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Moonlight II
Genre: DC/Marvel Crossover
Relationship: Older!Damian Wayne x Adopted Stark!Fem!Reader
Requested: No (Only a few requests are open, please see pinned post for details)
Word Count: 1.7K
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, swearing, canon typical violence
Description: You are the adopted daughter of Tony Stark, Damian is the son of Bruce Wayne. Your two fathers hate each other which by extension should mean that you and Damian are on less than friendly terms. The issue? You’ve been dating for little over a year and have been keeping it a secret. What will happen if your fathers figure it out?
A/N: I actually hadn’t planned on this ending the way it did, but as I was writing it this is just how it happened. Enjoy!
Morning light shown through your window the next morning a few minutes before your alarm went off. Your mind drifted back to the night before with Damian sneaking into your room and inviting you out for an afternoon with his brothers. Excitement coursed through you at the thought of finally meeting them. You quickly got up and began preparing for your day, you were almost done when there was a knock on your door.
When you opened it you discovered Pepper standing there with a bright smile on her face, “Good morning honey, Tony and I were just about to have breakfast, did you want to join us?”
You glanced back at your clock and saw that it was only eight thirty, you had plenty of time to eat before going to meet Damian, “Sure Mom.”
You grabbed the rest of your things before joining Pepper. It had taken you awhile before you had started calling Pepper “mom”. When Tony had first adopted you, you weren’t sure what he and Pepper wanted. It had been some time since you had had a family and you weren’t sure what Tony’s motivations were. Did he just want to look good to the press? Did he want to ease a guilty conscience? Did he just actually want a kid?
Then Morgan had come along. You thought for sure that that would be it for you, they had their own kid now, they wouldn’t want you. But that they hadn’t treated you any differently and you came to think of Morgan as your own sister. You were fiercely protective of her and she loved you to death. She was currently staying with Peter while you and your parents were in Gotham.
Tony greeted you with a hug and a kiss to your temple and began blabbing on and on about the gala the night before. Your mind drifted to Damian and how good he had looked in his suit. Then it went to the stairwell and the night before in your room, you only broke out of it when Tony cleared his throat, “Earth to Y/N, you still with us kid?”
You chuckled nervously, “Sorry just got a little lost in thought is all.”
“Care to share with the group?”
You shook your head, “Oh I was just thinkin’ about all the things I want to get done today. We leave in two days so that’s not a lot of time to see the city.”
“You could always come back later with your friends,” Pepper suggested. “I’m sure a vacation would be good for you.”
You smiled at her, “Yeah, you’re right, it would be nice.” You glanced at the clock on your phone and saw that it was creeping closer to nine thirty, you had to be at the park by ten to meet Damian. You stood and said, “Thanks for breakfast, but I want to go ahead and get a headstart on today. I’ll see you at dinner.” You kissed Pepper on the cheek and gave Tony a hug before dashing out of the hotel room.
Tony looked at the door you had just exited from and said, “I don’t think she wants to be around us any more.” Pepper merely patted his arm and went back to her breakfast.
You on the other hand were rushing to the park that Damian had mentioned. You were a little worried that someone may see the two of you together, but you honestly also couldn’t care less. Sometimes you were tired of hiding the truth from everyone. You loved Damian and you wanted the world to know that fact, but you worried about what Tony would think or do when he found out. You also wondered if Bruce would be understanding or if he would forbid his son from seeing you as well.
You shoved those thoughts from your mind, you didn’t want them affecting your mood any. Today was going to be a good day. And when you made it into the park you immediately saw Damian, he had a baseball cap and sunglasses on trying to hide who he was, but you knew. You could spot him anywhere. He had spotted you as well and you noticed a smile growing on his face as you raced over toward him. Your arms wrapped around him and he gently lifted you off the ground a few inches.
“Hello beloved,” he whispered in your ear before placing a gentle kiss to your cheek.
“Hi,” you said, a grin stretching across your face.
Someone cleared their throat and you could have sworn your heart stopped. You had been caught. It was too good to be true. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Dami?”
You looked over his shoulder and saw his three brothers standing there all three of them with amused expressions on their faces. Damian practically growled at their words. Knowing that his brothers knew about the two of you made things a little easier. It was like Peter knowing that you and Damian were dating. The two of you needed someone to turn to when things were tough.
You had almost told Pepper one day when you and Damian had had a fight. You needed a motherly figure to go to, but you weren’t sure how she would feel about the two of you together. She wasn’t like Tony, but would she lie to Tony? You weren’t sure, so you decided to keep it a secret.
You had gone to Natasha despite never really talking to her.
She was in the training room at the Avengers' Compound and you approached her nervously. “Nat, could I talk to you for a moment?”
She had paused what she was doing and turned to you, giving you her full undivided attention, “What can I do for you Y/N?”
You rubbed your arm and said, “If I share a secret will you promise not to tell Dad?”
Natasha’s interest was piqued, “I mean as long as you aren’t in any danger then yeah I can promise not to tell him.”
“I’m dating Damian Wayne,” you said and you watched as her eyes lit up. “Oh God, please tell me you’re not going to use this against me?”
She chuckled, “I promise not to tell him or anyone else. How did this even happen?”
You launched into the tale of how you and Damian had been sworn enemies, always competing against one another and how it had turned to friendship and then to what it was now. You told her about the fight that you couldn’t even remember now, and she gave you her opinions.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you all,” you told them with a bright smile. “Damian talks about you a lot and I’ve been begging him to let me meet you all since you found out about our little affair.”
“They were supposed to give us a few moments alone before ambushing you,” Damian said, his tone clearly stating how unamused he was with his brothers. “But clearly they didn’t take my feelings into account.”
“You’ve been keeping her to yourself for over a year now,” Dick said, his easy going smile never slipping from his face. “We just wanted to meet her.”
Tim nodded his head in agreement, “Don’t get mad, Dami. She’s only here for a few more days and then she’s on her way back to New York.”
You poked Damian on the side, “They have a point, Damian. I don’t mind meeting them now, we have plenty of time to be alone together.”
He still looked disgruntled but you let the boys show you around Gotham. They had an SUV with tinted windows to hide who was inside. The boys were recognizable and so were you. The five of you would be on the front page of all the gossip magazines by tomorrow and everyone and their mother would know that maybe you didn’t play into the whole feud your fathers had going on.
You could see the headlines now:
Real-life Romeo and Juliet with Children of Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark
Y/N Stark and Damian Wayne Making Headlines as Secret Affair
How Long Have These Star-Crossed Lovers Been Together?
You wondered how long it would take Tony to kick you out of the house and never speak to you again. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell Tony, he deserved to know. It was just that you didn’t know what he would do when he found out the truth. You knew how much he hated Bruce Wayne, and to be fair Tony didn’t think straight on a lot of things when emotions ran high. He would definitely say something that would hurt and he might regret later.
But knowing your father he would be too proud to admit that he was wrong.
Damian noticed the look on your face and nudged you, “You okay?”
You smiled and took his hand in yours, “Yeah just thinking.”
“About your dad?” He furrowed his brow, the two of you had had many talks about your fathers and their reaction to the two of you coming clean about how you weren’t really enemies.
You leaned your head back and blew out a breath, “I’m just… worried.”
Damian squeezed your hand and said, “Whenever you want to tell him, I’ll be there to support you. And if you want to tell Father first we could while you’re still here. He may put on a show of hating Stark, but I don’t think he’d begrudge you.”
“Damian’s right,” Dick said from the driver’s side. “Bruce looks like he would be the type to throw a fit and tell Damian to get out, but he’s actually not that big of an asshole.”
You laughed, “You saying Stark is an asshole, Grayson?”
“If he doesn’t I will,” Jason turned and grinned at you making you laugh. “No offense.”
“None taken, I know my father can be less than welcoming and let his mouth get him into trouble.” You didn’t have enough fingers to count the times your father had gotten into trouble because his mouth had gotten the better of him. “I just wish I knew if he would be okay with us. That he wouldn’t let the feud get in the way of realizing how happy I am.”
Leaning over Damian kissed your cheek. “So should I set a course for the manor?” Dick asked.
“It’s up to you,” Damian said. “Father will be discreet.”
Taking a steadying breath you said, “Let’s do it.” The boys cheered and Damian once again squeezed your hand to let you know that he would be with you every step of the way.
#Damian Wayne x Reader#Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader#Damian Wayne x Stark!Reader#Damian Wayne x Reader fluff#Damian Wayne x Reader angst#Damian Wayne#Damian Wayne fanfic#Damian Wayne fanfiction#Damian Wayne fluff#Damian Wayne angst
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for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?
Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver
Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling.
Enjoy!!
Resolutions, 2.2k
CW: alcohol
--
“Happy New Year’s Eve!”
Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?
He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.
“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”
Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”
Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”
“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”
Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”
“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”
“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”
Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”
“Am not.”
Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”
Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.
“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”
Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”
--
Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.
At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.
As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.
The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.
When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.
“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.
He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.
Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.
The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.
As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”
Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”
Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”
“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”
Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”
Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”
The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”
“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”
Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”
“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”
“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.
The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.
“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”
“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.
“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.
“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.
“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.
“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”
Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”
So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—
Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”
“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”
#tma#tma fanfic#jmart#timsasha#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#sasha james#tim stoker#jonmartin#the magnus archives#the magnus archives fanfic#fanfic to a tea#cw alcohol#new years eve#new years eve party
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Stomach Bug Ch2
Dinner Announcement
Should I be writing my geology essay? Yes. Am I going to write it right now? No. Am I instead going to write a new chapter to this fic? Absolutely. Thank you everyone who showed interest in this story it means a lot that people actually like this and to everyone asking to be tagged I’d take a bullet for you. You are all the best.
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The calm collected tone Bruce had during his call did well to hide the absolute madhouse that was Wayne Manor. While he was trying to subtly interrogate his youngest son over the phone his other three were playing the world's worst game of charades. Dick’s arms were flailing around as he made exaggerated motions trying to get a read on what Damian was saying through Bruce’s stony features. Jason was seemed to be working his eyebrows as much as humanly possible seeing if he could get even a hint of a reaction from Bruce. Tim, however, was just patiently waiting too tired to do any of the over the top actions of his brothers.
“Okay son, if you’re sure I’ll speak with Alfred.” Bruce nodded before hanging up and took a moment to compose himself before his sons launched into their own interrogation.
“What’s going on?” Dick asked, “Is little D okay?”
“What’s up with Demon Spawn I’ve never heard him have an emotion other than anger before,” Jason asked leaning forward.
“Why was he at Ivy and Harley’s?” Tim asked sipping his coffee.
“He didn’t say much.” Bruce sighed rubbing his eyes, “he told me he’ll be out for the rest of the day but that he’ll be here at dinner to explain what happened. He’s also bringing a few guests though he wouldn’t give any names.”
The three boys all shared looks before flying out of the room and scrambling through the halls towards the Batcave. Alfred stepping out of the way as they flew past him all shoving each other away or jumping over the other to try and be in the lead.
“They are quite lively this morning.” Alfred hummed walking over to Bruce with a raised eyebrow, “What did I miss?”
“Damian ran out during breakfast after a phone call and won’t be back until dinner he’s bringing three guests. He didn’t tell me more than that.” Bruce sighed leaning back in his seat, “How am I not grey yet Alfred?” he asked
“Must be favorable genetics as it can’t be from your tranquil life.” Alfred mused as he cleaned up the table and headed off to wash the dishes leaving Bruce alone to listen to the distant shouts of his sons fight their way into the Batcave.
~.~.~.~
“Angel, you need to eat something.” Damian said rubbing Marinette's back as she covered her nose turning away from the food set out in front of her, “I know it makes you nauseous but at least eat some toast.” he coaxed grabbing some dry toast and held it up to her.
“Eating is the last thing I want to do right now.” Marinette groaned still a little green from her last round of sickness.
“I know but the baby needs you to eat.” he soothed looking in her eyes, “you need to eat so the baby can be fed.”
Marinette groaned and pushed the plate stacked meats and eggs away from her and leaned back further to get away from the smell. Once her stomach seemed to settle she gingerly took the toast Damian kept insisting upon her eating and took small bites slowly working through it. Her stomach settled further the more she ate allowing her to relax a bit more and a healthier color to finally come to her face.
“Think she’ll be a vegetarian during this pregnancy,” Harley chuckled taking the plate away and deposited the food in the doggy bowls by the door for the two hyenas to come rip through later, “probably for the best for her to not have any meats though might really mess with her stomach.”
Ivy hummed looking through the pamphlets reading up on the different options, “Marigold we should set up an appointment with the OB-GYN Dr. Beau recommended. We should also grab some prenatal vitamins too since you’re not going to be getting enough nutrients from eating like a little bird.”
“I’ll go buy some,” Damian said standing quickly only to get shoved down in his seat a second later by Harley.
“Yeah no,” Harley said grabbing her brag, “That’s just what we need you on the front page, ‘ Wayne Heir spotted buying prenatal vitamins ’ this whole city would be in an uproar trying to figure out who you knocked up. You stay here and keep our little bug comfy we’ll go do the shopping.”
“You’re just going to leave your daughter alone with her boyfriend unsupervised?” Damian asked raising an eyebrow.
“What are ya goin to do? Knock her up?” Harley chuckled raising an eyebrow at the two blushing teens at the dining table. “You two talk, cuddle, be teens and red and I will do the shopping then later we’ll all go to Wayne Manor and act as buffers for marigold here so she doesn’t go catatonic.”
“Thank you,” Marinette mumbled looking up at the two women who so kindly took her into their home and wanted nothing more than for her to grow and be happy, “for everything I can’t thank you enough.” she sniffled scrubbing at her face.
Ivy and Harley both smiled and wrapped her up in another tight hug showering her in love and affection until her sniffles died down once more. The two women pulled back giving Mari kisses all over her face until she was giggling and pushing them away her face flushed with laughter instead of tears. Only once she was smiling brightly again did they finally pull away and leave the two teens alone.
“She’s going to be okay.” Harley smiled slinging her arm around Ivy’s shoulder, “our little marigold is gonna be just fine.” she sighed as they made their way out of the apartment building.
Marinette finished her dry toast sipping on some warm tea to soothe her throat from the torture it had gone through that morning with her stomach issues. Damian cleaned up the discarded dishes and helped Marinette up walking her over to the couch keeping a firm hold on her so she wouldn’t trip over the stray toys littering the floor. “Dami I can walk just fine.” she giggled softly as Damian helped her to sit.
“You’re pregnant I don’t want you to fall.” He said sitting down beside her, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
“Walking around the apartment isn’t going to hurt me or the baby.” She sighed leaning on his side, “I might be a klutz but I’m not going to fall that easily. I was Ladybug for three years have some faith in me.” she mumbled closing her eyes all the stress and tension from the morning finally easing off now that she had Damian by her side.
Damian sighed wrapping an arm around her hugging her gently, “I have so much faith in you,” he whispered leaning down to kiss the crown of her head, “I’m just worried about what could all go wrong.”
Marinette sighed sitting up and turned to face him looking up into his emerald eyes, “I don’t want you to worry, I’m already scared I just want you to be the one to tell me everything is going to be okay. That we’re going to be okay.” she said moving forward to bury her face in his chest, “I want to act like this wasn’t an accident and that we’re not two stupid teens.”
Damian wrapped her up in a tight hug pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, “Okay angel,” he mumbled, “I’ll be your rock, we’ll get through this and we’ll be the best parents we can be.”
“That’s all I want.” she sniffled nuzzling closer using Damian's relaxed state to shove him back to lay on the couch quickly climbing up to cuddle up onto his chest burying her face into his neck, “I love you Dami,” she mumbled.
“I love you to angel.” he smiled softly gently running his fingers through her hair to help her relax as she began to slip away into a quiet sleep. He waited until she was fully asleep to allow himself to fully relax and take his time to process just what was happening. “I’m going to be a father.” he mumbled rubbing a hand down his face a soft laugh bubbling up from his chest as he smiled at the ceiling, “Todd’s going to have a stoke.”
~.~.~.~
“How is there nothing?” Dick asked staring at the screen of the bat computer, “That’s impossible there isn’t anything you can’t find.” he said turning to look down at Tim as he tapped away at the keyboard staring intently at the screen.
All three of the eldest Wayne boys had been down in the Batcave for hours scrubbing through phone logs, security feeds, anything and everything to get even a hint of what was to come for dinner. The longer they searched the more interested they got at the sheer lack of anything involving Damian and anyone else that would prompt him to act how he did.
“Doesn’t make sense Demon Spawn doesn’t just change overnight so either he’s just really good at covering his tracks or he’s a clone,” Jason said stretching out in his chair propping his feet up on the desk.
The other two made a humming noise as they continued to search through the documents for what felt like the hundredth time. “Wait!” Dick shouted jolting Tim and Jason nearly out of their seats as he pulled the keyboard from Tim’s grasp and started typing away, “We’re going about this all wrong.”
“And how, pray tell, should we be doing this?” Jason deadpanned looking over at Dick with a raised brow, “We should just go ask Demon Spawn and let him feed us a load of bullshit?”
“I mean clearly he doesn’t want us knowing anything because he buried it so deep but maybe asking him will give us some answers?” Dick said smiling in the face of his two brothers thoroughly unimpressed looks. “Oh come on it’s worth a shot.”
“Master Dick,” Alfred hummed walking down into the Batcave, “Master Timothy and Master Jason.” he nodded looking at the three men, “Our guests will be arriving for dinner soon please head up to the main house to clean up and get ready.”
“It’s time for dinner already?” Tim muttered turning to look at the clock noticing just how long they had been down there looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.
“Yes so if you three will make your way to the manor proper.” Alfred nodded turning on his heels and headed back up the stairs so that he could continue with the dinner preparations.
The three men sat in silence for a moment longer before slowly making their way up the stairs. “Well, maybe we’ll get some answers during this dinner?” Dick asked looking at the other two only to receive shrugs in response.
Reaching the top landing they all split and went their separate ways to get ready for dinner taking their time to do their own thing. Soon enough a hard knock was heard through the manor signaling their mystery guests arrival. The three ran down once again shoving and tripping up each other to try and be the first in to see who would come through just narrowly avoiding crashing into Bruce’s back as they slid to a stop behind him.
Alfred calmly walked past them and opened the door, “Good evening Miss. Quinn, Miss. Ivy.” he said stepping aside allowing the two women to enter, “Welcome home Master Damian.” he said bowing his head to him, “and good evening miss?”
“You can call me Marinette.” she smiled softly up at the older gentleman, “I brought dessert,” she added holding out the large pastry box to Alfred trying to hide her nerves.
“Thank you, Miss. Marinette I’ll go put this away now. Dinner will be served shortly I hope you enjoy your stay.” he smiled softly nodding to the three women as he made his way to the kitchen.
“Damian you had us all quite worried when you ran out of here this morning.” Bruce said looking at his youngest and taking a moment to look over the three women before him, “Would you care to explain what happened?”
Marinette started to fidget keeping her eyes on anything but the Wayne’s before her, the soft pressure from Tikki in her purse doing little to keep her heart from beating out of her chest as her mind filled with everything that could go wrong. She managed to relax just a little as she felt the calm warm pressure of Damian's arm settling around her waist gently squeezing her hip to help ground her.
“Father, this is Marinette Isley-Quinzel,” Damian started his features cold and unreadable as he stared his family down, “she is my girlfriend.”
A pin could drop and sound like a gunshot in the silence that followed, the Wayne patriarch did well to hide his shock keeping a blank face as the three sons behind him ticked down to their own detonation.
“How much is he paying you?” Tim shot out.
“Where did you meet?” Dick grinned leaning forward.
“Blink twice if he’s holding you hostage.” Jason cut in.
Ivy and Harley stifled their laughs as they watched the three Wayne boys continue to throw outlandish theories and questions at poor Marinette. She seemed to calm down a small smile beginning to show on her face as she giggled at the two thinking she’d been coerced and the one trying to find out her life story. “He isn’t paying me or forcing me to be his girlfriend.” she smiled as Tim and Jason looked completely unconvinced, “and we met through a penpal assignment when I was thirteen but we didn’t start dating until I was fifteen,” she added on to answer Dick’s question.
“Well it is a pleasure to meet you Marinette it’s not often my youngest shows interest in anyone.” Bruce smiled stepping forward to take her hand, “shall we move to the living room while we wait for dinner?”
“That sounds just lovely Brucie.” Harley smiled stepping through them grabbing Marinette's arm and dragging her along out of Damian’s hold depositing her on a large armchair. Ivy shook her head smiling and followed her as she shrugged at Bruce taking a seat beside Harley on the loveseat as the Wayne’s made their way in. Once everyone was settled in and Damian got Marinette resettled on another loveseat so he could be beside her Harley decided it was a great time to drop the bomb, “So who’s gonna tell him?”
“Harls,” Ivy warned giving her a stern look.
“What? They need to know,” she said looking far too innocent for the chaos she was about to start.
“Tell me what?” Bruce asked looking at the two women carefully.
“Father,” Damian said drawing the attention of his family, “I know you just met Marinette but we feel you should know.” he said wrapping an arm around her to help keep her grounded, “Marinette’s pregnant.”
Silence doesn’t even begin to describe the absence of noise that followed, it was like a cold void swallowed the room as the Wayne’s collectively shut down at the news. Bruce’s face was unreadable as he took in the latest bit of news. Dick was practically vibrating out of his seat his eyes filled with glee. Tim looked as if his own brain was blue screening like a cheap laptop. Jason was the one to break the silence.
“Demon Spawn fucks.” Jason deadpanned
“JASON!” the room erupted from there Harley and Ivy cackling, Dick asking a million and one questions, Tim trying and failing to keep a straight face, and Jason roaring with laughter.
“What?! You’re going to look at me and tell me that I’m wrong?” Jason laughed, “the only thing I’m wrong about is that Demon Spawn would lighten up if he got laid.” he pointed at Marinette grinning wide, “She’s proof that he can fuck and still have a stick up his ass!”
“How long have you known?” Bruce asked his voice calm and collected effectively shutting down all conversation.
“I...” Marinette started her face a little pale from fear as she looked at Bruce’s emotionless face, “I found out this morning. I’ve had morning sickness for the past week.”
“You’re positive it’s Damian's?” he asked
“Father!” Damian glared moving to stand only to be held down by Marinette's small hand on his shoulder.
“I expected this,” she whispered urging him to remain seated before taking a deep breath and looked at Bruce, “I’ve only been with Damian since we began dating. If it’s not him then it’s Jesus coming back.”
Jason snorted getting a wide grin at the joke as he eyed Bruce trying to gauge his reaction.
Bruce seemed to take in everything he’d learned before a small spark lit up his eyes, “I’m going to be a grandfather.” he whispered tension starting to leave the room as he looked at Damian and Marinette pride and joy filling his eyes as he smiled wide, “I’m going to be a grandfather.”
“I call dibs on best uncle!” Dick shouted hopping up racing over to Marinette only to be tripped up by Jason.
“Like hell!” Jason shouted jumping over Dick, “I’m the best uncle for Pixie Pops kid.”
“Pixie pop?” Marinette asked letting out a yelp as Jason got right up to her practically throwing her up in the air as he lifted her from Damian's grasp.
“Hell yeah you’re small like a little fairy.” he grinned holding her as he jumped away from Damian's reach and Dick’s attempts to grab her, “so you’re Pixie Pop.” he chuckled.
The chaos began to unfold as Marinette finally relaxed all the stress bleeding away as she was welcomed into the crazy Wayne household. Ivy and Harley chuckled watching the two eldest and the youngest Wayne’s fight to grab hold of Marinette while Tim and Bruce seemed to quietly come to terms with all that was happening.
“So when’s the baby shower?” Ivy asked grinning wide.
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@myazael @beautiful-disasters-sunshine @moonlightstar64 @moonlitceleste @stainedglassm @casual-darkness @mochegato @ultimatetornshipper @heemsanddamemes @nathleigh @qualitypeacepainter
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By My Side | Pt.02
Timothy Thatcher x Female Reader (Nicknamed ‘Baby’)
Rating: Mature (Minors DNI)
Word Count: 2257
Warnings: Smut, angst and fluff. PiV, oral (female receiving) rough sex, relationship discussions, alcohol mention and language.
Inspired by INXS’ song, By My Side.
Pt.01
“Welcome to NXT, Thatcher.”
Timothy turns around and stops for a second, staring at her. Baby looks him in the eyes, not blinking once. Silence is shared between them for what feels like an eternity. Tim hugs her as tight as he can, knocking the wind out of her, but Baby doesn’t reciprocate, her arms limp by her side as Tim holds her.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” Tim breaths on her hair.
“Fucking liar.” she whispers back to him.
Tim releases the hold he had on her, but still keeps her close by keeping one hand on her shoulder. “Can we talk? I feel like we need to talk. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, I understand that you hate me, you have all the right to. But can we please talk? I’m staying at Junior’s, if you want to...”
“Fine. I’ll be there at 7.” and she leaves before hearing his answer.
Dakota and Rhea find her a few minutes later on the locker room, crying.
“Baby, what happened? You were talking to Thatcher and vanished from the gym. Did he do anything to you?” Kai says as she wipes her friends face clean.
“Do you want me to beat him up? You know I’d anything for you...” Rhea offers her.
“God, Rhea. No! But thank you. I don’t think I ever told you guys about this part of my time in Germany, yeah?” she tells them everything. About how they met, them touring together, all the happy moments and their downfall.
“We never fought, not once. Whenever something the other did bothered us we would just sit and talk. He always told me how great I was, how I was one of the best professionals he had ever seen. We talked about our dreams. I still can’t understand why he didn’t believe I couldn’t get here.” her voice breaks at the end and Baby starts crying again. Rhea hugs her, dries her cheeks once again, while saying “First of all, you need to stop crying, he doesn’t deserve it. Second, you guys really need to talk.”
“You do, babes.” Kota intervenes, “You guys need to have some closure to it. You left without even officially ending your relationship.”
“I know. He asked me to meet him tonight. I agreed to it. I don’t know why I got so shaken up after seeing him. I thought I had gotten over it, you know?” Baby sighs.
“Look, it’s normal. Just go, talk to him. If anything, call us and we break his nose again for you, yeah? Ripley offers.
“Okay, I love you guys.”
The day goes by way too quickly and when she realises, it’s almost 7. Sometimes, it’s a good thing that her and Junior live on the same Condo, being so close to each other really makes things easier when they want to do something together. Right now she is regretting that nearness. She wishes she had some little time to give herself a little pep talk before seeing Tim again.
She arrives just as Marcel leaves his apartment with Fabian. Both of them hug her and tell her to call if she needs anything as Tim waits by the door.
“Hello again, Timothy” she says, entering the apartment.
“Timothy. Wow.”
“Can’t call you chocolate eyes like I used to, can I?”
“Well, technically you can, my eyes hadn’t — “
“No technicalities here, Timothy. Let’s get this over with, please.”
“Right, I’m sorry. Please sit.” he begins. “Do you want something? Water? Beer? Also, I ordered take out from that Lebanese place Junior said you like so much.”
“Tim...” she sighs, exhausted. “I’m not hungry or thirsty. Can we please get over with it?” Noticing how harsh she was and the sad look on his face, she continues “Fuck, I’m sorry. I appreciate your efforts but I really can’t do this. Not right now, I can’t pretend everything is fine and dandy and eat and drink like nothing happened.”
“No you’re right. I just... I really need to apologise to you. I was so frustrated that everyone I knew was getting what they wanted and I kept stuck in one place. It felt like I was getting on a dead end road. I panicked when I noticed you were leaving, I felt like I was losing the one good constant thing in my life, the most important thing in my life. And I fucking did because of how much of a prick I was to you. I am so, so sorry for that. I won’t ask you for your forgiveness, it would be nice, but I understand if you don’t want to.”
“We could’ve worked out the whole ‘long distance’ thing you know... anyway Tim, you fucking broke me. I don’t think I ever loved anything, anyone more in my life than I loved you. I thought we were going to be together forever, you know? I couldn’t imagine my life without you... and you just insulted me, insulted the only thing I was proud of, the only thing I’ve ever felt I was good at when my dream was becoming a reality. The truth is I’ve already forgiven you. I did it as soon as I calmed myself down because I knew how much in distress you were. But you’ve broken me and I don’t feel like things can come back to how they were. I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as I can in the PC, I would appreciate if you did the same. I really don’t think we have anything else to say to each other, so goodbye.” She kisses his cheek and leaves before he can say anything else.
It has been months since they talked and Baby was able to stay away from Tim. She made sure to workout whenever he wasn’t at the Performance Centre. Whenever they had classes together, they would stand on the opposite sides of the room, far from each other. She never looked at him, but could feel his eyes staring at her. She was also very thankful to whatever high power that exists that they never got paired together. She had finally moved on.
Whenever she wanted to see Marcel or Fabian, they would either go to her place or the three of them would meet at a bar. For some reason, today’s bar date felt like a deja vu. They were on a booth, her with her back to the bar’s entrance, nursing a beer while Junior and Fabian took shots. The boys were in front of her, laughing when she felt her anxiety creep in. A few moments later, a presence is felt and Tim stands there, in all his 6ft3 glory.
“Good evening, guys.” Tim says to everyone, but his eyes never leave hers. Baby answers him back, while scooting a little far into the booth so Tim can sit by her side.
They never directly talk to each, their interactions only happening when Marcel and Fabian say something that requires an answer from the both of them.
She can feel Tim is nervous, his leg bouncing like crazy by her side, the fabric of his shorts rubbing on the skin her skirt didn’t cover. Baby has lost count on how many times she has held herself back from putting her hands on his knee to rub her thumb on it, like she always did when he was nervous.
The night went on like this. Soon enough, Junior and Fabian were shit faced, making Tim and Baby take them home together.
They arrive at the boys place, the both of them taking their designated drunk to their respective room and meeting back again on the living room. Tim speaks first before she tries to leave.
“Does this feels like deja vu to you too?
“God it does! Except it was Mack instead of Fabian last time.” she laughs softly back at him.
“I guess the next thing should be me raiding his fridge for a beer, right?” he asks reluctantly, afraid of her answer.
“Yeah, I’ll wait for you on the balcony.”
Tim is back a few moments later, “I don’t know where Junior finds all this european stuff.”
“Oh, there’s a store nearby that sells foods and drinks from around the world. The day we first went there he was so excited I thought he was gonna pass out.”
“That does sounds like him. Look, I didn’t know you would be at the bar tonight, if I did, I wouldn’t have gone, as much as I want to see you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I know it was Axel’s fault. But yeah, I wanted to see you too.” She tells him, a bit ashamed and they both smile at each other. They share a few moments of silence together, just appreciating their beers and the light breeze they were getting tonight.
She’s moves around on the balcony to stand somewhat in front of him, and is the one to break the silence. “The PC is doing great things to you. Your ‘Thatch-as-Thatch Can’ segments are incredible. You’re better at talking, more confident, it really suits you.”
“Thanks. I saw you’re doing moonsaults now. I remember you always wanting to do it but afraid of. They look great. Everything you do is impeccable. I always knew you would be able to.”
They stare at each other in silence for what feels like ages, the breeze picks up again, making her hair fall to her face. Tim brushes the hair out of her face, glides his thumb across her right cheek and then her lips. On impulse, Baby grabs his t-shirt and crashes their lips together. When Tim feels her letting go, he holds her close, trapping her in his arms and deepening the kiss.
It’s a raw, desperate kiss. Teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance. She moans when he lets go of her lips, leaving a wet trail of rough kisses from her face to the sweet spot on her neck, giving little bites to the space behind her ears.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, Timmo.” She says, rubbing her core on his hardening length.
“Me too, doll. C’mon, let’s go to the bedroom”.
They are attached to each other, stumbling on furniture, knocking down the living room lamp. When they get to Tim’s bedroom, they don’t bother on wasting time to take their clothes off. Tim pulls his shorts down and snakes Baby’s legs around his waist, lifts her skirt up enough to easily shove her lacy panties aside and fuck her against the wall.
It’s angry and rough, the result of one year worth of pent up rage and regret. They don’t care about the noises they’re making, fuck the neighbours, fuck Marcel, fuck Fabian, they are in their own little world now. Tim pulls the straps of her bra down, enough to attach his lips to her left nipple.
“Tim, babe, please don’t stop, I’m almost there. FUCK!”
He goes in harder, rougher and in no time she comes, flooding their clothes with her juices. Tim only stops when he feels her spasming against him, letting her gain some strength back. They move to his bed, taking the rest of their clothes off and Tim on her again, kissing her heat, sucking on her clit while he fingers her, mercilessly. It’s not long before she comes again, stronger than before, while gripping her hand on his hair, tears involuntarily streaming down her face.
He comes up to her lips, lays his body on top her and kisses her sweetly. “I’m sorry, doll. Was I too rough on you?” She lazily nods her head, silly smile on her face, still speechless.
Meanwhile, she strokes his still hard cock, lining it on her entrance, Tim asks if she still can take it, she only nods and lets out a soft “Mhmm”.
This time, Tim is gentle, rocking his body in an almost teasing motion, all while kissing her, telling her how much he missed her. They come together a few moments later.
Tim tumbles to his side of the bed, bringing Baby to lay her head on his chest, both of them coming out of their highs, just cherishing this moment together.
“I love you.” Baby finally breaks the silence. “I love you so much it hurts. I’m sorry I’ve been such a stubborn idiot.”
“Doll, you have all the right to be stubborn, I was a prick to you. And yes, I love you too. I love you more than anything, you still are the most important thing in my life.”
“So… do you want to try this again?” Baby offers.
“More than anything.”
Baby wakes up around 07am, their limbs tangled together. She tries to get up without waking Tim up, failing. He holds her hand and asks where she’s going, “Breakfast”, she answers sleepily.
“Your famous eggs and bacon?”
“If Marcel has any on his fridge, yeah.”
“Yes!!!” she laughs at his attitude and goes to the kitchen.
A few moments later Marcel appears in the kitchen, stops in his tracks and asks “What are you doing here? Did you fuck Fabian???”
“She didn’t fuck Fabian, dipshit.” Tim says as he walks past the german, who has a confused look on his face. He eyes Tim’s back, all red from the scratches she left behind last night, and it comes to him.
“What do y – oh my god, yes! FINALLY!”
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The Archer T.D. Part 2
Warnings: Language, Blood, Angst, Sexual Content, etc.
Part One Part Three
Word Count: 2.4k
Tag: @catxsnow
Chapter Two
Tim was sat on the couch looking through the news feed on his phone, keeping up to date with everything going on not just in Gotham but the rest of the world. It sufficed to say that Tim rarely ever quit working after he became Robin at the age of 15, now he was 19 and wasn't even Robin anymore. He was Red Robin, one of Gotham's protectors along with the rest of his family.
"Master Tim, would you be so kind as to take your feet off of the couch I just vacuumed?" Alfred asked, holding a tray with a mug of coffee on it.
Tim bent his head backward to look at the English butler and gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Alf."
"Apology accepted, now would you please remind your brothers that we are expecting a guest?" Alfred requested, handing Tim the mug of coffee he had asked for 20 minutes before. Tim gave him a nod and rose to his feet, taking a large sip of the coffee. "Also, remind them I want the manor to stay clean until they arrive."
Tim gave Alfred yet another nod. "Sure thing, also thank you for the coffee." he smiled and walked out of the sitting room. Knowing his brothers, they would be down in the Batcave prepping for the night's patrol. Something Tim did 3 hours prior. Turning the handles on the clock in the study, Tim drank half of his coffee in one gulp before descending the stairs.
What he saw when he got down there was no surprise to him. Of course Dick, Jason and Damian were all down there but so was Stephanie and Barbara. Cass was still in Japan on Batman Inc. business and wouldn't be back for another month.
There stood Stephanie in her average daily wear, with what looked to be jumbo marshmallows shoved into her mouth with Dick and Jason egging her on. He didn't have to see the look on Babs' face to see that she did not approve, and Damian was his usual self standing off to the side observing the others' antics.
"Guys, Alfred told me to remind you that our guests are arriving." he sipped more coffee and stood by Barbara and his assumptions were right. Steph was, for some unknown reason, shoving jumbo marshmallows into her mouth.
"Yeah, yeah. Timmy, you have to look at this. Steph has 14 jumbo marshmallows in her mouth. 14!" Dick said, clearly excited.
Damian huffed, "Why don't you tell him why she has 14 marshmallows in her mouth?"
Tim looked at his siblings, obviously it had something to do with Dick and Jason because they were to most excited about it. Knowing them, it was some kind of bet to see how many marshmallows she could fit into her mouth which would also explain the look of disapproval from Barbara. One wrong move and Steph would either spit them all over or choke and need CPR.
"Jason made a bet to Dick on how many she can fit didn't he?" Tim asked.
"Bold of you to assume that I started this babybird." Jason retorted.
"Did you?"
"Of course I did."
Tim rolled his eyes and looked at the clock on his phone, according to Alfred their guests were an hour away and Bruce wanted everyone to meet them. Like clockwork, Bruce appeared and took one look at his kids and let out a long sigh.
"Why is it that everytime we have people coming over, at least two of you do something stupid?" he asked, as Stephanie shoved two more marshmallows making Dick grin wider.
"Oh come on B, at least let us finish this bet. I am 3 away from winning. I bet she could fit 20 in her big mouth, Dick bet 18." Jason said, not turning to look at Bruce. "Besides, what's so important about these people anyway?"
"Oliver Queen is bringing his ward to stay with us for a while. They've been having some trouble and they thought I could help." he explained, crossing his arms and watched as Steph fit yet two more marshmallows maxing it out at 18 like Dick bet.
"Ha! I told you she could fit 18!" he taunted, pointing a finger in Jason's face.
"Don't ha me yet Dickiebird. If she fits two more, I win." Jason grinned, pushing Dick's hand away.
Bruce dropped his head in defeat. There was no way they were going to listen to him when they were like this. Everyone watched as Steph grabbed 2 more marshmallows and began to fit one into her mouth much to Dick's dismay. Jason crossed his fingers as she tried to push the last one in to make it 20, but gagged halfway through and spat them all over the floor.
"19! I win! Take that Jason, you have to bake me cookies now." Dick cried triumphantly. Jason however did not look that impressed.
"You lost too looser, she had 19. Not 18."
"Jay, that's not how it works. She got to my number not yours. I win." Dick argued.
The next thing they knew, Jason was trying to put Dick into a headlock who just kept flipping away out of his hold only making Jason try harder.
"Master Richard, Master Jason! Stop fighting and come up stairs. Our guests are almost here." Alfred announced, appearing at Bruce's side. Both boys stopped and rubbed the back of their necks.
"Sorry, we'll be right up." Dick said and began to help Barbara upstairs.
"What's so important about Oliver's kid anyway? Did he blow up a building or something." Jason asked, heading for the stairs.
"Rory has been having problems, I think we can help." Bruce explained yet again.
"His name is Rory?" Damian asked, crossing his arms. "Sounds stupid."
"Master Damian, there will be no name calling of our guest. Understood?" Alfred scolded. Damian huffed again and gave him a nod.
Tim was the last one up the stairs, with Alfred right behind him. So the guy's name was Rory, what did he look like and what problems was he having? With their eventual arrival, Tim would find out soon enough.
About 20 minutes later, everyone was in the main lobby awaiting Oliver and his ward.
"What do we even know about this guy?" Jason asked.
"Jay, can you not be suspicious of everyone?" Stephanie asked, leaning over to look at him.
"Being suspicious of everyone keeps you alive, big mouth." Jason replied with a smirk.
"Who are you calling big mouth?! If anyone is the big mouth it is you!" she yelled at him, a frown upon her face.
"I'm not the one who put 19 jumbo marshmallows in my mouth on a bet!" Jason yelled back, and like everytime someone starts a yelling match, everyone began yelling at each other.
"Enough!" Bruce yelled, his voice vibrating off the walls of the manor. Immediately, everyone went quiet with the occasional mumble of "Sorry, Bruce."
Tim played with his fingers, there were a million other things he could be doing at the moment but they were waiting on Oliver and Rory to show up. The name Rory sounded familiar to him as well, years ago he knew someone by that name but there was no way they were the same person. His Rory was a girl for starters and Oliver's was a boy, so they couldn't be the same person.
There was a knock on the door and everyone straightened up. Alfred opened the door and in walked Oliver Queen with a few suitcases. "Hey Alfie! Long time no see!" he cried.
Alfred gave him a smile. "Nice to see you again Master Oliver." Oliver gave Alfred a pat on the back and looked back out the dor.
"Come on Rory!" he called. The person who appeared through the door next surprised everyone.
Rory Queen was in fact not a boy. Rory Queen was a girl, and not just any girl. Rory Queen was Tim's childhood best friend.
"Everyone, meet Aurora Queen." Bruce introduced.
Rory's eyes looked around and assessed everyone in the room, she went from Alfred to Bruce to the line behind him. The boy at the end of the line caught her eye. The first words out of her mouth were not in greeting at all.
"Tim? What the fuck are you doing here?" she asked.
Immeadiately, everyone's eyes turned to look at Tim. "What, you know her?" Dick asked curiously.
Tim was speechless, he hadn't seen Rory in 13 years and she looked the same. Of course the last time he had seen her she was 7 and he was 6, she had grown but her eyes and smile were still the same. All Tim could do was nod in response.
"Wait, you knew she was a girl and neither you nor Bruce thought to tell the rest of us?" Jason cut in.
"Well, I didn't want to ruin your assumption Jason. Maybe you should think before daring someone to put 20 jumbo marshmallows in their mouth." Bruce stated, a small grin on his face. "But I had no idea Tim knew her."
"In his defense, it's been 13 years and I was Aurora Sonnet then." Rory stated, looking at Tim who seemed to be in shock.
"Timmy? Hello? Earth to Timmy?" Steph said, waving her hand in front of his face. Tim's mind was going a million miles a minute.
Why the hell was she Aurora Queen and not Aurora Sonnet? Clearly Oliver was her father figure now, so what did that mean about her parents? Last he checked he was still married to Dinah, so he couldn't be her stepfather. Bruce had also said she was Oliver's ward like Tim and the rest were to him.
So that left only one option, Michael and Clara Sonnet were dead and he didn't know until now.
Snapping himself out of his thoughts, he finally found his voice. "Yeah, we were kids. She moved to Star City because she got into a prestigious ballet school." Tim explained. "How is that going by the way" he asked.
Rory's face fell, the thought of dance always brought her back to her parents and these days she just didn't have the heart to dance anymore. "I stayed until I graduated 4 years ago."
"4 years ago? But that means you would have been like 15 when you graduated?" Dick asked, clearly confused. She was about the same age as Tim right?
"I was 16, I did highschool in 2 years."
Everyone's jaw dropped. Not only was Rory Queen a girl, a pretty one at that but she was a genius and a vigilante like them. It wasn't long before the gears started to turn in Dick and Stephanie's heads, knowing someone close to them who was just like that.
"Well, you are welcome here Miss Queen." Alfred said with a smile.
"I'm leaving her in your capable hands Alfie. Take care of her." Oliver ruffled Rory's hair, "I have to get going, Dinah can only do so much without me. Be good and for the love of everything do not bleach the cape again." he said giving her a quick kiss on the forehead and headed out the door.
"That was you!?" Stephanie yelled, "I had never seen Bruce so angry, how did you do it?"
Rory went to open her mouth, but Bruce stopped whatever she was about to say. "Never mind the cape getting bleached, she is not telling you because I know at least two of you would try to replicate it." he pointed his gaze at Jason and Steph.
"I feel as if we should be insulted that he would asume we would try it." Steph mumbled.
"Do you blame him? Have you not seen the things we have done?" Jason laughed, and shook his head.
"Enough about the bleached cape, Rory let me introduce my family." Bruce said. He gestured to the first person in line, he was tall with black hair and blue eyes. "This is Dick."
Dick stuck his hand out, Rory taking it and giving it a good shake. "Nice to meet you Rory, I hope you'll enjoy your stay here." he said with a charming smile.
The next person in line looked Rory over with a slight smirk. "Jason Todd, I'd say the same but half the time I don't enjoy it here." he said, making Rory laugh a little. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind.
Next to Jason was a blonde girl, immediately she took Rory's hand and shook it. "The name's Stephanie, glad we finally have another woman in the house. Babs and I are being suffocated with all the testosterone." she chuckled.
Rory let out a chuckle, "Glad I could balance it out."
Next to Stephanie was another female but she had red hair, Rory could only asume this was the Babs she mentioned. Barabara reached up and shook Rory's hand. "I look forward to working with you." she smiled.
Next to Babs was another boy, but he was shorter and had a darker complexion and actually resembled Bruce a little. Rory stuck her hand out, only for him to reject it completely with a huff. "Sonnet." was all he said.
"That's Damain, he isn't a people person." Tim said from his side.
"Are you sure you're even a person Drake and not just some robot Father concocted?" Damian retorted.
"Ooh, been working on that one all day little D?" Tim taunted, making Damian glare at him. "Tt, whatever." he mumbled.
It was then Rory turned her attention to Tim, the best friend she hadn't seen in over a decade. She didn't know how to address him, was Tim okay or did he prefer Timothy now? Should she hug him, but they weren't that close anymore so it could be overstepping boundaries. She looked at Tim and it seemed that he was thinking just as hard if not harder about their situation.
Rory followed her instincts and pulled Tim into a tight embrace. "I missed you, Tim." she mumbled softly. She felt Tim's arms wrap themselves around her and hold her just as tight.
"I missed you too songbird." he smiled.
#Costly Affairs#tim drake fanfiction#tim drake#tim drake fanfic#timothy drake#red robin#red hood#batman#batfam#batgirl#nightwing#dick grayson#jason todd#robin#damian wayne#bruce wayne#gotham#barbara gordon#oracle#dc comics#superhero#joker#harley quinn#tim drake fic#Tim drake fanficition#tim drake x oc#red robin fanfic#red robin fanfiction#red robin fic#red robin x oc
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Authentic
While writing HNOC, Jonny suddenly puts on an accent, when it isn’t well recieved at first, he gets weird. He is withdrawn and agreeble, concerned the others corner him and find out it is his original accent. He storms off and is comforted by Brian.
On AO3.
Ships: none
Warnings: none really, but tell me if I missed one or if you want me to tag something!
~~~~~~~~~~
Brian had not been pleased when he had finally been freed from the core of the sun around which Fort Galfridean had orbited, but he’d cheered up a bit after the Mechs had agreed this tale was good enough to be told.
They’d started writing it. First getting a feel for the songs to see, which voice fitted where, shots had been fired, First Mates had died, nothing important. An outline had been made as well, giving a broad idea of the spoken parts and the songs.
Now they were sitting in a circle with their instruments, ready to try some melodies and tweak the lyrics. They had agreed on the beginning, mostly, the first part was written down and Ashes said: “I think we should have Lavinia Stone explain why they’re going to shoot.”
“You mean when she told them they could run the town if they killed her and took her sheriff star?” Brian asked.
“Yeah, that.” Ashes replied, “You know what she told them exactly?”
Brian thought for a second, then unsure said: “I think she used son of a bitch? Maybe tin star and rightwise sheriff of the town or something in that direction? Does that help?”
“Yeah, that might work.” Jonny agreed, “Uhm, what about something like this: Any sonnabitch can pull this tin star from me, makes ‘em rightwise sheriff o’ this town.”
He scratched his nose and shook his head as he whispered to himself: “No, needs a few more words.”
Clicking his tongue he thought for a second, then his face lit up and he proudly said: “Any sumbitch can pull this tin star from my stone cold hands, makes ‘em rightwise sheriff o’ this here town. ‘Cause she’s Lavinia STONE.”
The smirk turned into a frown when he looked at the others. All had a confused expression on their face, eyes filled with question marks. Jonny had no clue what that was about and muttered: “We don’t have to use that part, geez. Just tell me if it sucks.”
That snapped most out of it and Tim said: “No, it’s not that, just wow, that was weird.”
“What?” now it was Jonnys turn to be confused.
“Did you not hear what you just did?” Ashes asked.
“I suggested something for the song and you all got weird about it.” Jonny frowned, not comprehending what they were getting at.
Ashes facepalmed and Tim exclaimed: “The fucking accent, Jonny, where the fuck did that come from?”
Understanding appeared on Jonnys face and lightly embarrassed he shrugged: “Thought it might be fun. Brian said some of them talked funny and from his horrible impersonation, I gathered it sounded something like this. Besides, it adds a bit to the atmosphere, right?”
The others found that explanation enough and agreed that it did sound fun, before they moved on to the next part, squabbling like normal until Brian came in and Galahad was introduced.
Lyrics was as easy as it had ever been, which is to say not that easy but with years of practice they managed, and it was only when they did a quick test run that it went wrong. Jonny was in the middle of his part when Tim interrupted: “Do you have to give him the accent too?”
Jonny stopped mid sentence and indignantly asked: “What’s wrong with the accent?”
“It’s inconsistent.” Tim told him.
“What! My accent is not inconsistent, what are you on about?” Jonny exclaimed, getting offended and a bit of fear, that no one could place, creeping into his voice.
Brian tried to keep the peace and said: “I think what Tim means is that none of us are using an accent, so although it is accurate it might be weird that only some of the characters have it, you know?”
“Well, why don’t y’all do the accent too then?” Jonny pouted.
“Oh, really, letting it bleed over now are you. What are you trying to prove?” Tim snapped.
If anyone had been paying close attention they would have seen that Jonny flinched back slightly at that, but no one did.
“I think none of us can keep that up, Jonny.” Brian tried to placate him, “You already said I did a horrible job at it.”
Jonny sighed and moped: “Okay, fine, but I personally think it sounds better with the accent.”
“Sure, lets just start from the top again.” Ashes said.
They all got in position again and started again. This time when they got to Galahads part, Jonny played up his normal British accent as much as possible. He was stopped again, this time by Marius: “Really, Jonny? Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean you don’t get to take it seriously.”
“I am taking it seriously, I did exactly what you wanted. Nothing is good enough around here.” Jonny pouted earnestly.
“Why are you so insistent on using the accent?” Marius asked him.
Jonny opened his mouth, but closed it before a sound could come out and bit his lip. He swallowed and shrugged: “I’m not, just sang like normal. But also it’s accurate? And it sounds better?”
He grabbed some notes for the next part and explained: “I mean what sounds better out of the two of these: ‘Don’t recall asking for your opinion, son.’ or ‘I don’t think I asked for you input, my friend’?”
“If you exaggerate it like that, of course it will sound dumb, but the accent you’re doing is even dumber.” Tim said, not willing to abandon his side and say Jonny was right.
Some of the others agreed and something shut behind Jonnys eyes as he relented.
The others were glad this wouldn’t end as a big fight, which would be a mess to clean up, but Jonny wasn’t the same afterwards. He kept his mouth shut most of the time, no banter and no unnecessary commentary.
They tried to go on, but with Jonnys mood it was almost impossible, so they decided to leave finishing and cultivating the first draft for later and take a break.
The moment it was decided Jonny was out of the room, yelling something over his shoulder about a smoke, despite the fact that smoking was allowed everywhere on the Aurora. No one stopped him, however, just watching him go. Tim commented: “The asshole.”
Ashes smirked and Marius rolled his eyes, but Brian was a bit concerned about their First Mates reaction. Still, he knew following him and asking if he was alright, wouldn't be appreciated, so he left him to himself, but he resolved to keep an eye on him.
It seemed to be over the next day, Jonny had shut up about the accent and everything went on as normal, he did sound more British than normal, though, but not enough to be truly notable.
There did seem to be less fighting, though. Every time it seemed a fight would’ve normally broken out between Jonny and someone else (Jonny was usually the one fighting the most), Jonny would relent and let the other do their thing.
At first, no one was questioning this sudden change of character since it made the process go a whole lot smoother. Brian had frowned at the start, but Jonny didn’t seem to mind still just grinning like normal, so he hadn’t said anything about it.
Then that changed.
They’d finished the first draft and although no one member was more important than the other, it was the collective group that made it the best. And while Jonny wasn’t always prominent in the writing of the notes you could see him reflected in the lyrics, but his presence was now obviously missing.
This became even more apparent when they played it for the first time, stopping from time to time to make notes and suggestions.
Everyone had picked up on it, everyone except Jonny apparently. He was either playing oblivious or really hadn’t noticed the others silences that he hadn’t filled when they were taking suggestions on parts he hadn’t had a say in yet.
They were a bit sick of it. Was he still mad at them for yesterday? He seemed fine, but they all had masks. Was he deliberately being an asshole in the hope they would apologize or something? No, he wouldn’t do that, well he would be a deliberate asshole, but not over this. Unless this wasn’t like normal?
“What do you think, Jonny?” Brian asked.
“Hm?” Jonny looked up, “Oh, uhm, seems fine.”
He smiled at them, but they weren’t really sure he knew what it was about with the way his eyes were a bit distant.
“What were we talking about?” Tim asked, getting a bit frustrated.
Jonny blinked and uncertainly said: “The lyrics for the song about Mordred returning to the Saxons?”
“No,” Tim sighed, “about the love song between the three Pendragons. Are you even paying attention?”
He winced and replied: “Yes, just got a tad distracted. What was the original question?”
Tim was about to get angry, so Brian intervened: “I was wondering what you thought. This part here doesn’t flow so well.”
Brain pointed at the sheet in Jonnys hand and Jonny read it out loud to himself: “Guinevere you’re my stars, Arthur you’re my night. I know we have to ride at the dawns first light. And I’m not saying that this crusade isn’t right. But first we fuel a few more sins with whiskey.”
Jonny was quiet as he thought. He seemed to come up with something, because his eyes did the light up thing they always got when he had an idea, but then they dulled and he didn’t say a thing.
After a while he shrugged and said: “I don’t know.”
Now everyone was getting worried. If there was one thing Jonny loved, it was stealing the show by coming up with something and fixing a problem. It could be annoying if it wasn’t helpful.
He did not stay silent.
“Are you sure?” Brian asked, “It seemed like you thought of something.”
Jonny bit his lip, before carefully saying: “I thought- uhm, maybe? I think I could fix it, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
“Why do you think that? We won’t know unless we’ve heard it, so just tell us and we’ll decide ourselves.” Brian encouraged him.
Nodding slightly, Jonny started to sing: “Guinevere you’re my stars, Arthur you’re my night. I know we’ve got to ride at the dawns first light. And I ain’t saying this preacher man’s crusade ain’t right. But first we fuel a few more sins with whiskey.”
Jonny tried to gauge their reactions and quickly said: “I know y’all don’t like the accent and think it’s dumb, but the words make it fit better. Of course, we don’t have to do it. It was just a suggestion, you know.”
“No, no, that fits.” Ashes told him.
His shoulder sagged a bit with relief and he smiled at them before he wrote the new lyrics down. He did not notice he was the only one changing the lyrics.
While he was doing that, Brain and Marius shared a concerned look that the others caught on to and made them look at Jonny again and think. Then Marius said: “Hey, Jonny?”
“Yes?” Jonny asked looking up.
“Why do you know so much about this one accent and use of language?” Marius replied, immediately adding: “Not that that’s a bad thing of course, just curious.”
“I don’t know that much about it.” Jonny dodged the question.
“Yes, you do.” Tim inserted himself into the conversation as well.
Jonny huffed and crossed his arms as he said: “It doesn’t matter, why do you care so much anyway. I thought you found it dumb.”
“Because you’re suddenly acting weird after we brought it up.” Tim exclaimed.
That startled Jonny a bit, but he yelled back: “I do not.”
“Yes, you are.” Tim frowned angrily and began to list, “You’re not making useless comments, no banter, exaggerating your British accent, you’re not giving your own opinions, you’re fucking agreeable, Jonny. You’re never agreeable, so excuse us for wanting to know what the fuck is going on with you.”
“There’s nothing going on with me, I tried something and it failed, so I shut up.” Jonny spat, “I’m fine.”
“What did you try? What on earth did you try to make you act like this when it failed.” Tim had stood up now to continue their fighting match, properly.
Brian, however, wasn’t having it and pushed him back down in his seat as he shouted: “Lets all just calm down for one second, okay.”
Both took a deep breath and just glared at each other.
Gently Marius broke the silence: “Jonny, you try a lot of things that don’t succeed, why does this one bother you so much. I know Tim wasn’t the best at telling you this, but we’re just worried about you.”
Jonny swallowed heavily and blinked heavily a few times. He tried to start a few times, but then just stopped, choosing to dismiss it: “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“The more you dodge it, the more it seems like a big deal and we’re not continuing until you tell us.” Ashes told him. From where they were resting on the couch, all sprawled out, they looked like how they’d been when they were Hades. The royal feeling rolled off of them and Jonny couldn’t help, but listen.
“It’s, uhm, I’m from New Texas.” he finally settled on saying.
When that didn’t clear anything up he explained: “It’s not the same system as orbited around Avalon, but it’s close.”
The realization dawned on everyone that the accent they’d thought he’d been putting on was his original accent and the way he spoke now could be considered him putting on an accent. They’d never realized that he could have a different accent since the rest of them, except for Nastya, had the same one.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Jonny. We hadn’t realized.” Brian said.
Jonny squirmed in his place uncomfortably and shrugged: “It’s no big deal.”
“Seems like it is though, I know you don’t like me psychoanalyzing you, but this made you more upset than anything else I’ve seen.” Marius told him.
That earned him a scowl from Jonny, who replied: “Stay away from my brain, Marius. It’s none of your business.”
Meanwhile, Tim was still thinking about Jonnys change of accent without really paying attention to what the others were saying, so he blurted out: “So where did your accent go then? Nastya still had hers, despite being on this ship for quite a long time.”
The scowl deepened and Jonny said: “That’s also none of your fucking business.”
“Does it have anything to do with why you’re so upset?” Marius asked.
Completely fed up, Jonny roared: “Yes.” and stomped off.
As they watched him go, Ashes commented: “That could’ve gone a lot smoother.”
Beside them Brian pinched his nose and sighed: “Yes. Yes, it could have.”
“Should we go check on him?” Tim asked,a bit taken aback by the reaction and feeling guilty a bit too.
“No, I think we’ve done enough for today. I’ll check up on him in a few hours.” Brian told him.
The rest of the day came and went and soon it was time for Brian to see how their First Mate was fairing. He hesitated outside his room for a second, then he knocked.
It was quiet for a beat, then he hear Jonnys voice: “What do you want?”
“It’s me, Brian. I came to check up on you. I know you don’t want me to, but just open the door so I can see you’re at least a bit okay and I’ll leave you alone.” Brian answered.
He heard grumbling, but also movement, so he smiled at his little victory.
The door slid open and Jonny looked at the ground and said: “See, I’m fine. Now go away.”
Brian raised a brow and rolled his eyes, before he squatted down a bit and gently put a finger under Jonnys chin to raise his face to make eye contact. Jonnys eyes were shining with the wetness of tears not yet fallen, but his makeup hadn’t been smudged, which Brian counted as a win.
What he didn’t count as a win, however, was that Jonny wasn’t even fighting him about this treatment. He just stood there silently and stared at Brian, all fight drained out of his body with the opening of his door.
Brian broke the silence softly: “If you want I can leave now, but I’m happy to stay. You don’t have to talk, just company.”
Jonny worried his lip between his teeth as a mental battle waged behind his eyes. Then he quietly said: “Don’t tell the others?”
“Of course not.” Brian replied with a kind smile, closing the door behind him as he lead Jonny to his bed.
Brian leaned against the wall and allowed Jonny to crawl up beside him, before pulling the blanket over the two of them. He gently rubbed Jonnys back and sat quietly with his eyes closed and his mind calm.
He knew Jonny was more tactile than he’d have you believe. All the crew was familiar with the ways he would brush up against people, accidentally bump into them or started a fistfights when he was feeling lonely.
No one ever said anything about it, but they tried their best to pander to it. Everyone had something after all.
After nearly thirty minutes of comfortable silence Jonny said: “I know it’s stupid to be upset about. I just- never mind.”
“It isn’t stupid at all.” Brian told him.
“Yes, it is.” Jonny moped, “Just because she beat it out of me doesn’t mean that it isn’t just an accent.”
He didn’t even seem to realize what he had just confessed, instead angrily staring at Brians thigh and plucking on a lose thread of Brians pants, Brian knew he would probably offer to fix it later as a thank you or apology, unable to voice it.
Brian carded a hand through Jonnys hair and said: “You know, I don’t even speak this language.”
“What?” Jonny asked, not looking up, but leaning into the touch.
“I borrowed a book from Ivy about my own planet, it talked about the language and how it’s one of the few places that hasn’t switched to Basic yet. There was a passage in the language, but I couldn't understand a word, not programmed for it, I guess.” Brian explained.
“Oh, I’m- I’m sorry, that sucks.” Jonny mumbled.
Brian shrugged and said: “Yeah, kind of. I know I’m not that Brain, never really was, but it still hurt. I locked myself at the helm for two months to process. Isn’t that stupid?”
“No. No, it’s not.” Jonny frowned, plucking harder, “That’s upsetting to learn, you just reacted like anyone else would.”
“You’re right.” Brian agreed, for a moment Jonny was confused, but then Brian cleared it up: “So, why is it stupid when you’re upset?”
“I don’t know.” Jonny pouted.
“You don’t have to know. Sometimes a brain is just stupid, but that has nothing to do with you. You’re allowed to just be upset.” Brian told him.
Jonny huffed: “You sound like Marius.”
“Marius isn’t always wrong, even when he is an idiot from time to time.” Brian said.
They fell into a comfortable silence again after that. The rhythmic motion of Brian petting Jonnys hair soothing them both.
Then after a while, Brian said: “For the record, I liked the accent you gave Galahad, you really sounded like him. Tim probably did too, he just wanted a fight I think.”
“Really?” Jonny asked after a beat of silence.
Brian smiled: “Yeah, really. I think that if you bring it up again, the others are probably a lot more receptive. You know how they love dramatics and what is more dramatic then an album with authentic vocabulary and accents just for accuracy?”
Jonny grinned: “Not much.”
“Exactly.” Brian nodded, then he stayed silent until Jonny had fallen asleep.
The next morning the two of them made their way to breakfast. Jonny was his chipper self again and bounced around Brian as he excitedly told him about the dream he had in which it had been him against an entire army, pretty violent over all, but Jonny had won and found himself quite the badass, despite the fact that it was a dream and he had not actually done that.
He didn’t even notice how the others lost their tenseness when he’d come in. All had been afraid that he would still be upset, but it seemed Brian had been a good influence.
They all ate, before going back to the practice room. The plan was to start going over everything again, just the next draft until everything was perfect, but before they could start Jonny nervously asked: “Hey, uhm, I was just wondering if y’all’d be okay if I tried the accent again with Galahad. I think it would enrich the album and if all y’all don’t like it, we can scrap it again.”
“I think that would be a great idea, Jonny.” Marius smiled at him.
Relief washed over Jonnys face and he smiled back.
In the end they kept the accent in there and watching Jonny go apeshit every single time he got to perform Hellfire was completely worth it.
#RR writing#The Mechanisms#the mechs#Jonny d'Ville#drumbot brian#Ashes O'Reilly#gunpowder tim#marius von raum#hnoc
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For @dickgraysonexchange2020, for courage_boss! I had a lot of fun with this one.
Prompt: Dick gets a coupon book for his bday and uses all but the last one.
…
…
…
…
If there was one good thing about Bruce Wayne’s string of adoptions, it was that events were never a quiet affair. No matter how much Jason or Damian might have wanted them to be. Dick, on the other hand, embraced the fullness of the manor. The place felt too empty and stuffy on a normal day, what with most of the family out and about.
It was only for special days, like his birthday, that everyone gathered together again. Between his friends and family, every room felt full, the manor bursting with sound and life. A far cry from the dreary dinners when it had just been the three of them, with Bruce awkwardly figuring out parenting and Alfred kindly filling in the gaps.
Walking around with a slice of cake, Dick spotted Alfred and grinned. He meandered over. “Alfred, one of these days, you’re going to realize just how much you’d make running a restaurant.”
Alfred chuckled. “Perhaps, Master Richard, but the last time I left, the manor collapsed.” His expression was fond. “It’s too much work fixing it after.”
“That…” Dick couldn’t even argue. Anytime Alfred left on vacation, sabbatical, whatever, nothing went right. The kitchen burned. Bruce forgot to eat or sleep. Mold and dust became new tenants. “It’s all a ploy to keep you here longer.”
“Then it is certainly working.” His smile looked more amused than weary. “You certainly do keep me on my toes.”
“Dick!” Tim poked his head out of the study. Spotting him, he gestured for him to come. “Got a sec?”
“It’s only a party,” Dick teased, nodding to Alfred before going. “Not like I have anything important to miss.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “You could have been talking to someone.” Despite his cavalier words, his cheeks reddened from embarrassment.
Dick didn’t press the matter, storing it away instead for later teasing. “What’s up?” he asked as he stepped into the study.
There was no such thing as a small room in the Wayne manor. Yet, crowded with Damian, Cassandra, Tim, Bruce, and Jason, the study suddenly felt cozy. Dick grinned, unable to help himself. “The whole gang’s here!”
Jason clicked his teeth. “Let’s get it over with.”
“For once, I agree with the failure,” Damian added, crossing his arms.
“Aww, don’t be like that.” Dick sidled up to them, planting himself in between. Before they could react, he loped an arm around their shoulders. “You both came, after all.”
“I made sure of it,” Bruce said simply. Dick wasn’t sure what that entailed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.
Damian squawked. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t you—” Jason growled, tossing off Dick’s arm.
“We got you a gift!” Tim interrupted, before a fight could erupt. He held out a small, neatly wrapped box. The wrapping paper and ribbon were a soft blue, matching his Nightwing costume. “Everyone chipped in.”
“Chipped in?” Dick reluctantly let go of the two to accept. Ignoring how Damian and Jason immediately escaped to the other side of the room, he carefully pulled the ribbons and unwrapped. What could it possibly be, if everyone chipped in and it was so tiny? Tickets? A gadget? A thick wad of cash?
Oddly enough, none of those. Instead there was a small book inside, roughly the size of a chequebook. Scrawled neatly on the top was Coupons.
“A coupon book?” Confused, he looked up at Tim. “You guys chipped in for a coupon book?”
“Look inside,” Tim encouraged, his smile so wide it nearly split his face in half.
“Okay…” Still bemused, he quickly flipped through the pages. Defeat your enemies. Do a chore. Take the night off. Massage. The writing differed from page to page, from Damian’s neat, cramped writing to Cassandra’s messy flowing one. Most of them were made by Tim though, and they were of course all the normal ones.
It was better than anything he’d imagined. Feeling utterly soft, he quickly hugged Tim. “Thanks.” Without missing a beat, he pounced on Damian and Jason. Despite their protests, they didn’t squirm out of his grip. Finally, he rounded on Cass and Bruce, both of which hugged him back awkwardly, as though they weren’t sure quite how.
“I can’t believe you made this,” he said, finally untangling himself.
“Well, considering everything we have, it’s hard to buy gifts.” Tim shrugged. “Steph had the idea, actually.”
Well, that made sense. She always had the fun, interesting ideas. Dick made note to thank her later. “I can’t believe you two agreed to this,” he said, looking at Damian and Jason.
“A little strong arming from Cass,” Tim explained.
“I did not get threa—” Damian protested, glaring at Tim. Hopefully this didn’t lead to the two of them stabbing each other in the batcave later. Then again, there was a clean the batcave ticket too, maybe he could have them clean up after their mess.
“I did not have to…convince Damian,” Cassandra replied stiffly. Despite how much time had passed, words were still her second most fluent language. “He was…agreeing to this.”
“Really?” Jason guffawed.
“That’s because no one can strong arm me,” Damian growled, his lips curling into a sneer as he glared at Jason. “And that means she did strong arm you.”
“Stop,” Bruce warned, rubbing his forehead. “We’re in the middle of a party.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I have that covered.” Dick whistled as he flipped through the coupon book, stopping at one of them. Tearing it out, he grinned. “Now, one of you two has to compliment me…who should I pick?”
-x-
“You…want me to cook?” Cassandra’s brow furrowed as she stared at the little slip of paper in her hands.
“More or less.” Dick grinned as he led the way to his kitchen. His apartment was a small thing compared to the manor, but it was home, and there was something energizing about having someone over. If there was one thing he loved about the coupon book above all else, it was that it gave him an excuse to invite his far-flung family over.
She cocked her head, still looking troubled. “I am not…good at it.”
“That’s fine!” Dick hummed as he pulled out two aprons from his cupboard, handing one over to her. “As long as it’s edible.”
“You…have one too?” Cassandra awkwardly stared at the bird-print apron, then at him.
Laughing, he slowly put it on, demonstrating how to tie it all together. He should have expected that; his family was more comfortable fighting than they were in the kitchen, and it showed. “Yeah, we’ll cook together. It’s more fun that way, right?”
Cassandra smiled, a small thing, and nodded. “Yes.”
-x-
Standing next to the old grandfather clock, Bruce crossed his arms. Honestly, he didn’t need to wear a mask to intimidate; his scowl was more than enough to scare off any random two-bit goon. “This isn’t what they were intended for.”
Despite his words, he still hadn’t opened the passage to the batcave, and Dick considered that victory. It at least meant that Bruce was willing to hear him out. Holding out the paper, he shook his head. “How? I’m using them.”
Bruce’s frown grew deeper. “Dick, that is supposed to be a night off for you.”
“No, it just says night off.” Honestly, Bruce should have known better: Dick loved arguing semantics. Finding loopholes in Bruce’s rules was what he lived for. “So I’m giving you a night off.”
“I—”
“Babs and the Birds of Prey agreed to cover.” Dick pressed the coupon on Bruce’s chest confidently. “You’re not in the middle of a case. Perfect time for a night in.”
“Dick…” Bruce ran a hand through his hair. Another push and he’d cave in. “Look, I appreciate it, but…”
“Master Richard, Master Bruce.” Alfred stepped into the room and while Dick would never accuse him of something as underhanded as eavesdropping, the timing was suspect. “I have prepared the living room for your marathon. Master Timothy and Miss Cassandra are already there, though Master Damian has refused to join.”
“Et tu, Alfred?” Bruce sighed, giving in. “Fine, but drag Damian down too, Dick. He’s not allowed to worm his way out.”
“The if I go down, he goes down with me gambit.” Dick grinned. “I got it covered.”
-x-
Tim stared at the fruity mocktail he was holding, worrying his bottom lip. “I don’t think this is what Jason had in mind.”
“I never go by what Jason has in mind,” Dick countered, drinking his own cocktail. Sipping from his ridiculously curly straw, he leaned back in his seat. “It’s always more fun that way.”
“That’s…true,” Tim reluctantly agreed, surveying the rest of the batcave.
Honestly, there couldn’t be anything better than relaxing by the computer, eating popcorn, and watching Damian and Jason handle all of the cleaning. Sure, they had automated robots and machines to handle this. This chore had been struck from the list years ago, after Bruce had upgraded the whole cave.
Yet, sometimes Dick just wanted to see things done the old-fashioned way. Like Jason washing the batcar. Or Damian scrubbing the costumes. Both of them were quietly swearing as they worked, occasionally shooting him a dirty glare. He didn’t have to read their minds to know he’d have to watch his sleep for the next week; if they could murder him, they would.
“Don’t forget the bat droppings,” he added cheerfully.
If he was going to die young, might as well go out with a bang.
-x-
Dick sighed as he stared at the coupon book. In the span of a month, he’d managed to use almost all thirty of them, most of them in the most frivolous way possible. He didn’t regret it; it had been fun. No matter what ridiculous thing he came up with, his family had done it. Begrudgingly, at times, but they’d still done it.
The whole thing had given them so many excuses to hang out, no matter what else was going on in their lives. And now it was all over. All he had left was a single Do whatever you say for a day ticket. One last one and the gift would be done.
He sighed again. This gift was far too precious to use on a passing whim. Carefully, he folded up that last coupon, tucking it in securely into his wallet. Dick would save it for the best opportunity, for the final memory that couldn’t be replaced. A rainy day when he needed a pick-me-up.
More importantly, it literally would force someone to do whatever he said for a day. Power like that had to be considered before he used it.
#dick grayson#tim drake#damian wayne#cassandra cain#jason todd#nightwing#robin#batgirl#batman#bruce wayne#alfred pennyworth#dc comics#fanfic
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#WayneAngel: Chapter 2
The Maribat AU by @ozmav and @maribat-archive is all I can think about atm, so enjoy more of this
Summary- After Grayson posts a video on the wrong twitter, Damian feels like he should lose his social media privileges, and possibly his hand.
Part 1
Part 2 (HERE)
Part 3
______________________________________________________________________
Wayne’s Angel @FashionableInGotham
Thanks for outing my relationship, Dick, now I owe Tim money.
Marinette paused realizing that no one was going to believe the lone tweet, even as she hit send on the first post of her new twitter account. There were probably a hundred fake accounts popping up already in light of the news. Thousands of theories on her were already flying around the net.
She probably had a zillion texts from her classmates about the video, but she had taken one look at the group chat and missed calls she had gotten from Alya and turned her phone onto do not disturb. She’d check for texts from her actual friends later.
She sighed and stuck her head outside, and was only mildly surprised seeing the two middle Wayne boys stilling sitting on the patio.
“You guys are still out here?” She asked, only for Jason to flip her off and Tim just bleary lifted his head up, having been taking a nap in the sun like a cat.
“Easy boy,” She soothed Jason, “I’ve just come to tell you the kitchen is no longer off-limits, and that Damian is attempting to murder Dick.”
“What did Dickie do?”
Instead of answering Jason’s question she held up a blue bill between two fingers, “Oh I also owe Tim this,”
She watched Tim pause mid-yawn and eyes flash to her before his eyes grow large and he cracked up laughing.
Jason slipped into a cheeky smirk, “No…”
“Oh yes,” Marinette sighed, “Dick accidentally uploaded the video he took earlier to his public twitter, instead of his private one. #WayneAngel and #MariDami are both trending right now.”
“The demon spawn might actually succeed in killing him this time,” Tim gasped out, snatching the bill from her.
“Not on Alfred’s birthday, he won’t,” She giggled back before holding up her phone, “Either way, mind helping me enter the celebrity Twitter scene? I feel there’s going to be lots of clean up involved, but I figured the sooner I’m officially introduced the better, but I need someone to confirm I’m me on there.”
Tim pulled out his phone, “One introduction tweet coming right up.”
Tim Drake Offical @TJDrake
Thanks, @AFlyingGrayson for fucking up and winning me the bet with on who would out The Demon spawn’s relationship!
Anyways, Just wanted to introduce @FashionableInGotham as my actual favorite sibling and the Demon spawn’s real, flesh and blood, girlfriend, Marinette.
With the tweet was a picture that Tim had snapped of the three of them chilling on the porch, Marinette perched on the armrest of Tim’s chair as the boy waved the banknote in front of the lens, Jason smirking as he gave the young girl bunny ears.
It’s a very endearing picture, in her opinion and was ranking in retweets in a heartbeat. Her follower count was climbing from the seven Waynes. Marinette wasn’t going to ask how Tim managed to hack twitter to make the missing Waynes follow her, she really didn’t want to know.
Plausible Deniability and all that.
The tweet was followed quickly by one from Jason.
Jason Todd Lives @BestTodd
Yes the brat has a girlfriend
Yes I lost the bet on if he’d follow in Bruce’s footsteps
Yes that’s my real reaction to her picking me up
Yes she’s is that adorable irl, Proof vvv
Yes @FashionableInGotham is my unofficial baby sister and I will fuck up anyone that upsets her
The picture he attached as proof of her being adorable was of her working on a piece, her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she concentrated. The reds and purple laying in pieces around her as she snipped and sewed them together. Behind her, you could barely make out Tim and Damian arguing on her chaise.
There was a sudden bang as the patio door was hung open and Dick tumbled through, phone in hand, with Damian still following him, but the knife had been replaced with his sword.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were introducing Marinette on twitter!” The eldest whined as he continued to dodge Damian’s strikes. Damian stilled, turning to his other brothers.
“You what!”
Marinette rolled her eyes, “Easy Damian. It was my idea. Get a good image out there before people have too much time to theorize about how I wormed my way into the elusive Waynes.”
Tim just snorted, “Ah yes, Marinette the masterful gold digger who had no idea she was dating the Damian Wayne for the first two months of their relationship.”
The other boys laughed as Marinette’s face turned bright red.
“You promised not to bring that up again,” SHe whined as her boyfriend came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her.
“You know you love us, Angel,” He mumbled as he pressed a kiss into her hair, pointily ignoring the fake gagging from Jason and Tim.
“Sooooo” Dick drawled, bringing everyone attention to him, “We have about an hour we need to start dinner, and two before he and B get back. Who’s up for a little twitter QnA?”
_______________________________________________________________________
The group chat was too hectic to keep up with anymore, no one was sure what was happening, until Chloe texted each of them individually and offered up a conference room at her family’s hotel for them to gather and go over what was happening.
She was a little surprised that they all agreed, especially Lila. The gig was up, there wasn’t a way for her to convincingly spin this turn of events, not when the Wayne’s were already rushing to social media to defend the girl after the video accidentally went up, introducing her under a brand new twitter.
If anyone saw that the blonde was already following said twitter, she’d claim it was to keep up with any drama that unfolded from little miss no one dating a Wayne.
After all, she had an image to keep up, she couldn’t just...
“Chloe?”
Her head snapped up to see Adrian standing in the doorway.
“How on earth did you get here so fast?” She asked with a raised brow.
He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck, “I... might of snuck out...”
She laughed, “Knew school would be good for you.”
He grinned sliding into the seat next to her, making her relax.
Their relationship had been rocky for a while, but after Queen Bee made her official debut, they were working through it. She couldn’t deny the fact that his eyes glowed as she tried her best to be a better person made everything easier
“So have you abandoned your ridiculous high road principle?” She questioned, watching him flinch slightly.
“You know I didn’t...”
“Yeah, Yeah,” She sighed waving her hand, knowing it was still a sore spot to him that Marinette had taken the advice so poorly before Chloe stepped up and explained what he had meant.
Keep your head down, don’t draw attention to yourself. Messages that had been instilled into Adrian for years, both to keep out of the media spotlight and, after his mother disappeared, to stay at of his father's way. Lies had never been an issue to him since rumors were always flying around the model and the people he worked with, so while it took him a while to see that the lies that Lila told were different than those written in the gossip columns and were actually doing harm.
Let’s just say the boy was still beating himself up for that, even if Marinette forgave him. Sadly it was too late to have Adrian come forward on his own to out Lila without it looking like Marinette had just gotten him under her thumb so they had been waiting for their chance.
Chloe was glad to say that that day had finally come.
“Did you know Damian was the boy Mari talked about?” He asked quietly.
“No,” She sighed, “Luka and Kagami had no idea either, you’d know this if you bothered looking at your phone.”
He shrugged, leaning over her shoulder, “I left it at home, Dad tracked me last time I snuck out with it.”
She huffed a laugh handing over the phone so he could see the... colorful texts from the pair.
“I didn’t know Kagami knew any swears in French,” He confessed after scrolling through the group chat.
“My money’s on her learning them from Ms. Couffaine,” Chloe offered lazily, “That woman swears like a sailor.”
“She lives on a boat,” Adrian counters, “I think that qualifies her as a sailor.”
“Whatever,”
They lapsed into silence as Adrian clicked over to the entire group chat to see if he could make any sense out of it now that the flow of incoming texts has trickled off.
“Are you okay?” She suddenly asks making him arch a brow, gazing up from the phone.
“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Your lady is in love with someone else.”
Adrian smiled softly.
“I accepted that awhile ago Chlo,” He reminded her, back to the day they were all too close when time ran out, when the five of them could no longer hide, “I’m very happy to be her best friend, plus I’ve been thinking that I might look what the cat can drag-in”
She groaned, whacking him, “You’re ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”
“Like you weren’t wondering if you’d be a good snake charmer.”
She squeaked, swatting him again harder as he fell off his chair with laughter.
“I told you that in confidence, not so you can make stupid puns!”
“Oh come on Chloe, don’t throw a hissssy hit,”
“I’m a bee, so buzz off!”
They stared at each other before breaking down into giggles.
“I hate you,” She whines through the pearls of laughter.
“No you don’t,” He waggled his eyebrow making her laugh harder.
Knowing he won he glanced back at her phone only for his smile to twist into a wicked grin.
“Tone down the Chat in that grin or people will put it together,” She warned, poking his cheek.
“Marinette and the Wayne boys just said they’re doing a QnA under #Daminette.”
Chloe blinked a few times before her smile twisted to match his, “There’s a projector in here and we have about five minutes until anyone else gets here.”
“I’ll grab your laptop and make sure Plagg and Pollen come down from your room,” Adrian said, climbing to his feet.
“I’ll call Luka and Kagami and ask them to be prepared, and then get Jean to get refreshments and inform Jagged Stone of what’s happening,” She assigned to herself before he nodded and took off.
Operation Dethrone Lila was officially underway.
About fucking time
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Taglist: @kceedraws @northernbluetongue @starry-bi-sky @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @lexysama @vincentvangoose
#miraculous ladybug#batman#maridami#marinette dupain cheng#damian wayne#Tim drake#dick grayson#jason todd#Damianette#chloe bourgeois#adrian agreste#lila rossi#lila gets exposed
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Breathe in the Salt - Chapter Fourteen
AO3
Beta read as always is @thesnadger
Martin returns a lost item.
It's cleaning day.
She was still in bed.
Martin breathed out his nose. This was normal, what with the early hours he kept. Still, as he shut the door, the smallest amount of tension left his shoulders. His mother would wake up in a few hours and go about her day as usual with what energy she had. Things were normal.
He pressed his forehead to the wood.
She hadn’t been holding her skin.
Stowed it away, perhaps, to keep it close and secure instead of sitting in the corner of a stuffy attic. Tucked out of sight, as if it had never been there. If this was what she wanted, fine. He would leave it. He stepped away and continued with his morning, leaving the silence undisturbed.
His routine dragged on, and yet before he knew it he’d sped through the whole thing. Teeth, shower, some small nothing of a breakfast that he barely managed to get down. Pill box set on the counter, the previous day’s dose empty. Some dishes left in the sink that he hadn’t gotten to the night before quickly rinsed and set aside. Then, before he felt any time truly pass, he was slipping on his shoes.
His bag felt heavy as he lifted it from the table, though the sketchbook inside was no physical burden. This would be over soon, he told himself. It made no difference to his nervous insides.
He should’ve gotten more sleep.
It had been a mistake to stumble out of the house the night before. He could’ve complied with his mother’s demand for solitude by simply leaving the room and going upstairs to his own bed. Instead, he’d had to be walked home late at night like a drunk after last call. And above all, he was up earlier than usual, the final nail in his sleepless coffin.
Martin rubbed away some of the exhaustion from his eyes and hefted the bag more securely onto his shoulder. Upon exiting his home he was met with a dreary, drizzling morning that sprayed his glasses with tiny droplets. Before long he would have to wipe them, but he kept his umbrella stored away.
“No reason to look up,” he muttered to himself, turning his back on the sea. It churned and scattered itself over the rocks. “Nothing but water in your eyes.”
It was easy enough to focus on the path as it sloped upward, and when he reached town he turned to walk on a street perpendicular to his normal route, that towering thing clawing at this periphery. He had another destination to avoid eye contact with first.
On the way he passed the storage house, doing his best to look like an uninterested pedestrian. It was hard not to stare. So quiet in the early morning, the building could’ve been unused for years if Martin hadn’t known better.
He shook his head. There was no more business to be had there, at least for the moment. If none of them had been tracked down by the police (or worse), it wasn’t worth worrying about. No, the only person who knew about their little investigation was ahead of him, and like a fool Martin had to trust that he would keep this whole thing quiet.
The house was probably the same as it had been. Martin couldn’t tell, as he kept his eyes away from its large frame and numerous windows. The front gate was open and inviting, the mouth of a whale waiting for the tiniest specks of sea life to float inside.
A woman in a neat suit stood at the front door, apparently waiting for him. “Martin. Simon told me to expect you. No problems, I assume?”
“No.” Martin sifted through his bag and handed her the sketchbook.
“Wonderful. I’ll deliver this to him for you.” She lightly brushed at the cover, lips parting in a smile. “Also, Simon wished for me to tell you that the view from up high later today won’t be one to miss.”
Her face said to be excited, as if she were telling him discreetly of a meteor shower or a fireworks display. A fun, secret end to his family vacation that wasn’t mentioned in the brochure. She tucked the sketchbook under her arm, never letting the friendly grin drop.
“Have a nice day,” she said, through her sparkling teeth. The door was promptly shut in his face.
Backing away, Martin almost looked up at the windows overlooking the front of the house, then snapped his head back down. There was nothing for him up there but dark glass and rainwater.
--
“That’s…hm.” Jon grimaced in his chair. “It’s certainly ominous.”
Martin sat at his small desk making a modest attempt at getting his work done. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be looking out the windows later.”
Jon nodded. “Yes, that would be for the best. I am concerned, though. The possibility of that book being something more significant hadn’t crossed my mind with everything else going on. If I’d had more time to think, I would’ve asked to take a look at it.”
Across from Jon, Tim was flipping through Martin’s work contract with some intensity. Without looking up, he said, “Well, there’s no helping it now. It probably would’ve just given you a headache, or worse. Martin, is there a list of- oh, wait, I found them.”
Sasha leaned over to look at the pages in Tim’s hand, chewing on the inside of her cheek. When Martin had come in for the day, the three had already settled into their workplaces with a strange energy about them. Sasha in particular had been on edge, seemingly unable to sit for too long.
When he’d asked about this, her only response had been, “Elias hasn’t contacted us yet.”
Jon had argued that it was early, that he had sent out an email the night before and Elias might not have seen it, but there were lines of worry etched in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes.
Or perhaps he was also in need of a better night’s sleep. If Martin had to guess, none of them were running at full capacity. If combing through his incredibly boring work contract helped Tim and Sasha them feel productive, so be it.
“Well, whatever the book was,” Jon continued, “when you go upstairs later, make sure to take Sasha or myself with you. We’ve been largely unaffected by this place, so if anyone is to follow up on Fairchild’s… tip, it should be one of us.”
“He’s the type to rile people up for fun. Maybe it’s nothing.” Martin couldn’t even convince himself.
“Not worth the risk, what with the symptoms you and Tim have exhibited.” Jon glanced at the other two, who did not look away from their reading. He cleared his throat. “Better to be safe in this circumstance, I think.”
The group fell back into silent work, Martin at his desk, Jon on his laptop, and the other two scanning line after line of employment agreements and mind-numbing blocks of text Martin probably hadn’t read before signing. When he’d gone over it days before, there had been no secret clauses or double meanings. Maybe they would have more luck.
Tim eventually spoke up. “Huh. Martin, have you done any of the cleaning bit since we’ve arrived?”
Martin raised his eyebrows. “What? Sorry, did I leave a mess in the sink or-”
“No, no, that’s not it.” Tim tapped the back of his hand onto the page in front of him. “Says here you’re basically the janitorial staff. Something about having to go through the place and clean everything.”
“Oh. Right, yeah, it’s part of my job since no one else works here.” Heat crept up his neck. He’d completely forgotten in the week’s excitement. He muttered to himself, “Shit. I’d better get that done today. If Peter comes in tomorrow and sees it’s a mess-”
“Don’t worry, we won’t interrupt. Just tell us if we need to move anything.”
Martin nodded and pushed himself out of his chair. “Thanks for reminding me. It’s not a priority most of the time since it’s just me, but at the very least he’ll notice if the floors are bad.” And with all the weather and the people, they absolutely were. Goodness.
Tim clicked his tongue. “Can’t have him thinking of us as an intrusion, not if we want to keep the work going.”
“God, I hadn’t even thought about that.” Martin walked over to the closet and began to pull out cleaning supplies. It would have to be the kitchen first, then the floors…
Before long, he’d settled into his cleaning routine. All of the dishes were properly washed instead of just rinsed out, not that the tea stains would be coming off anytime soon. He did his best to mop the main area without disturbing the researchers. Besides some lifting of feet, there were no interruptions on his part.
He would have to go over some spots later, but there was no helping it with all these people about. With so many shoes on the tile and all the rotten weather, the place had gotten dirty and slick. He really would need to get a better mat for the front door if people were to come in more often, especially once it started snowing.
Pushing that thought gently aside, Martin walked toward the stairs with his mop and bucket full of sudsy water.
“Wait, you really have to lug that all the way up?” Sasha asked.
“Yeah…” Martin sighed and started climbing. “There’s nowhere to fill a bucket up there, but people go up just enough that it gets dirty.”
From behind him, there was the sliding of chairs on tile. He looked back. Sasha led the other two toward him and said, “With what Fairchild said, it’s best not to risk anyone going up there alone. Besides, I want another look at the windows before it goes weird.”
“Okay… Just don’t look too far down when you do.” He glanced behind her. “Tim, are you sure you don’t want to-”
“Oh, I’ll be staying nice and safe in the center of the room where I can keep an eye on everyone.” Tim smiled with at least some humor. “Besides, you were right. The contract was a terrible read.”
Martin shrugged and continued his ascent with everyone trailing behind. He wouldn’t bother with the stairs until he was on his way down, in part due to safety but also because it was the biggest pain to keep the bucket balanced.
Halfway up the stairs the shoulder pain kicked in as it usually did, near his neck and right between the shoulder blades. He knew it must’ve been from holding things wrong in some way. Maybe the shifting weight of the water messed with his muscles, but no matter how he held himself he had always managed to get at least a crick in his neck.
“Martin?” Jon said, sounding distant at the back of the line. “Is everything okay?”
Martin hummed in response, stretching his neck. He didn’t work with proper posture, so that was almost definitely a factor. Setting a timer could be helpful. How often were people supposed to stand and move when sitting for a long time? Every thirty minutes? That seemed a bit too often, but he was no expert in muscles or spines.
He wasn’t an expert in anything, really, but in this case he could at least google it. How often had he told himself he would google ‘when should you get up sedentary job?’ without doing so? Was thirty years when things started going wrong with your back? Martin was a tall man, and his back had never been great, not with his lifestyle or all the lifting he sometimes had to do at home, but he knew being tall could really mess up the spine. Herniated discs were apparently-
“Martin!” Sasha’s voice snapped, echoing up into the stairwell.
The sound of steps behind him had stopped. Martin paused and looked over his shoulder to find Sasha’s hand on it, giving it a shockingly forceful shake. The three of them seemed to sag in relief. Tim was gripping the handrail and leaned his head against the wall, while Jon just looked at him with his hands raised as if to prod Martin’s arm.
With a nervous laugh, Martin flicked his eyes between them. “W-what’s going on? You look like you’ve seen-”
“Martin, what just happened?” Sasha asked. Her fingers continued to dig into his shoulder, keeping him in place.
“We… walked up the stairs? I carried a bucket?” He lifted the bucket up as evidence, then stared at it. “Sorry, did some of the water splash out and make the stairs slippery? I tend to overfill it, but-”
Jon cut him off. “Let’s just- we’ll talk when we get upstairs.” He glanced behind himself with some alarm and hurried to the front of the group.
Martin was about to argue, to say that no, if something happened he deserved to know- but one look at their faces was enough to shut him up as they resumed the trek upward. He gripped tight the bucket and mop.
It became clear on the quiet walk that the others were waiting for something. Sasha kept lightly squeezing Martin’s shoulder as if to push him forward. Only once did they stop for Tim to get his bearings, after several instances of Tim waving off his own stumbles as nothing.
From the front Jon regularly looked over his shoulder, usually at Martin but occasionally past him down the winding steps. Martin attempted to catch his eye more than once to raise an eyebrow at him, but the man was distracted by whatever it was that had everyone all in a tizzy.
Besides those tiny moments of confusion, it was easy enough to settle into the now familiar headspace of focusing on Jon’s back and not thinking too hard about it all.
Finally, thankfully, they reached the upper floor. Bright morning light filtered through the panes of glass, a startlingly intense change from the stairwell. Despite this, Martin shivered. If he dared go near the windows, he thought, would they be at all warm?
Sasha’s hand guided him to a small, faded couch in the corner. He set the cleaning supplies onto the floor, sat with his hands together in his lap, and waited.
Sasha began, “So, I’m sure that was… strange for you.”
“I mean, yeah?” Martin replied. He started rubbing a thumb into the back of his hand. “Clearly something happened that I don’t know about.”
Sasha looked around at the other two before fishing her phone out of her pocket. “Well. Before we get into that, there’s something you should hear. Late last night, I received an interesting voicemail.”
Martin’s eyes grew wide. “Wait, she actually-”
“She didn’t actually claim to be anyone. Understandably suspicious.” Sasha looked at her phone and pulled something up on it. “Nevertheless, she had some… advice.”
She tapped the phone, then held it out.
A tired, irritated voice came through, muffled with static. “I’m not interested in talking, not if you’re involved with those people, that family. They’ve harassed me, stalked me, who knows what else.”
There was a quick sigh. “But you found my number and just... called me. No one would blow all that work on such a weak lie unless they were being sincere. I guess. Or it’s just easier to hope that someone else sees that something is wrong.”
“So, before I realize this is a bad idea, tell this to whoever they got to replace him: Don’t assume incompetence. They know how to get away with things. It’s all making you ignore what’s right in front of you because, no, of course it must be a mistake or a typo. It’s about getting away with a lie without actually lying.” Another sigh.
“That’s where he went, or where they took him, I know it. When he came out from- from wherever the first time, he found me losing it on the stairs after he-.” The person laughed, just barely. “Almost dropped the stupid water bucket when he saw me there. He was always- no. No. If you’re really trying to figure things out, then best of luck to you. You’re probably fucked, but either way, don’t… don’t go in alone. You’ll just get lost. Don’t bother calling this number again.” Click.
For a moment Martin stared at the phone. Her voice had been cracking near the end, and he pushed down the bile that rose in his throat. “This is, um… So, she saw something, and that something was…”
Tim nodded, fishing a folded page of the contract out of his pocket and giving it over to Martin. “She was right. It’s the smallest detail. No one would think it’s anything other than a mistake.”
Slowly, Martin unfolded the page listing his general duties. It took him a moment, but after scanning a few lines he found it. His stomach twisted. “‘Upper floors’. There’s only the main floor and the top floor, nothing else.”
“Apparently not,” Jon said, sitting on the arm of the couch. “Because about halfway up the stairs you disappeared straight into a wall.”
#tma#the magnus archives#breathe in the salt#martin blackwood#jonathan sims#sasha james#timothy stoker#peter lukas#fanfic#au fanfic#selkie au#jonmartin
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Into the... Wait, we’re all what now?
As it turns out, I’m horrible at keeping things as one-shots, so now you’re getting a continuation of the fic in which Mari falls into the DC verse. Using Maribat March is definitely a wonderful way to continue these things. Also, yes, this means you can ask to be tagged to the story from now on. There is at least one more thing to write about this if not more.
Ao3 || first part
This is Maribat -- don’t like; don’t read
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It was way too late to be up and awake but apparently, that was precisely what Marinette was anyway. Sighing, she pushed the covers aside, slipped on a pair of fluffy socks and made her way to the kitchen through the seemingly endless halls of the Wayne Manor.
As she got into the kitchen, she checked the clock from the microwave oven. It was only 3.29 am. Damn it. She hated the fact she couldn’t sleep. She also hated the fact they hadn’t yet figured out a way back to her own world. The Amazons didn’t know anything about the miraculous — her own world was a cartoon in their world, it turned out, and she kind of knew her partner’s identity, as well as Papillon’s and Mayura’s identities, which, poor Chaton. Hopefully, the Parisians were doing fine without her there to capture and purify the Akuma —, though Wonder Woman had said she could still try to look further into it.
She was glad that Diana had promised to do that because Marinette really would have preferred to be home, especially since speaking English all the time got very tiring. There weren't many people she could speak French with, not really. Dick knew some French, Bruce could speak French, and Tim was able to hold up a simple conversation for a while, but it... It wasn't really enough.
It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being with the Wayne family, no. She loved the family and kind of considered them her other family aside from her Maman and Papa. She’d even been officially adopted to the family in their world’s eyes so it wouldn’t confuse anyone as to why a random girl suddenly hung out with them without dating any of them. It had been Tim’s idea, Bruce had decided it was a good one, and then they’d asked Marinette if that was something she was okay with. She was. It wasn’t like her family was in this world or universe anyway, and it was nice to know she belonged somewhere. Besides, she fit the pattern — black hair, blue eyes. The only ones who didn't have both but had black hair anyway were Cass and Damian, really.
It was a little amusing that the only one who was actually related to Bruce looked like him the least if they ignored his facial structure.
Quietly, she tiptoed around the kitchen, having already given up on the idea of sleep at this point. She made night snacks for herself and poured herself a cup of coffee, sighing happily as she inhaled the bitter smell of it. The coffee was scalding hot as she took a sip — just how she liked it. The drink warmed her hands as she held the cup which was nice, seeing as the Manor was rather cold at night.
Marinette settled herself at the small table in the kitchen that was mostly meant for anyone who really, really didn’t want to eat with the rest of the family and opened her phone, meaning to go through her Tumblr feed and maybe watch Netflix. She'd even been ready to just start watching a new show when she was interrupted.
What caused the interruption was someone trying to get a mug out of the cupboard quietly and instead dropping one on the ground. Thank god it was the sole plastic mug in the entire manor, so nothing broke.
Marinette turned to look at the source of the voice and found Tim staring at the ground with what looked like grief in the dim light of her phone. She would’ve understood if there was coffee or if it had been Tim’s favourite mug (as that one could be broken — Jay had threatened to do it once or twice by now, actually), but no. Nothing was broken, nothing had spilt on the ground, nothing needed to be cleaned up.
So what was it?
When Marinette raised her eyebrow at Tim as he finally looked at her, Tim just sighed and shook his head. “‘S nothing, Nette, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he told her, crouching to pick up the mug. “Haven’t slept much, nothing more than that. I thought there had been coffee for a second.”
Marinette nodded, understanding what he was on about, and continued reading. It was only when Tim dropped down on the chair in front of her that she paid attention to him again. He had his laptop out and was frowning at his screen.
“A case?”
“Yeah. A series of murders, three robbed stores, riddles and a string of witnesses that refuse to say anything kind of scream multiple of our villains, and I’m not sure who to investigate first, or if it was a collective effort of theirs, or if someone is impersonating them and trying to frame all of them. None of them has claimed the crimes either, which is a little unusual and a lot disturbing,” he told her and turned the screen around for her to see. Indeed, there was a list of possible culprits and the chance of an unknown and the details of the crime.
“I can see why this is troubling you,” Marinette sighed and turned her eyes from the screen back to Tim again. “I cannot believe I’m suggesting this, but what if you slept and then looked at it again? I know you tend to try solving problems even in your dreams, so there’s that as well, but also your brain might want to brain better after sleeping.”
It took her a moment before she realised what she said, but when she did, she groaned and rubbed her hand on her face. “I can’t believe I just used a noun as a verb. Please kill me or knock me out so I could sleep.”
Tim just laughed at her. That asshole.
“What are you two doin’, drinkin’ coffee at this hour?”
Marinette jumped, startled that someone had managed to sneak up on them even in the silence of the night. She turned around to see the slightly glowing eyes of Jason and let out a sigh of relief, bringing a hand to her hear. “God, Jay, you scared me. A guy your size shouldn’t be allowed to move so quietly,” she whined and let her forehead hit the table. Jason only barely managed to snatch her cup away from her way so it wouldn’t fall down and that all her coffee wouldn’t end up on the floor.
She murmured her thanks into the table as Jason patted her head, laughing at her quietly. She would kick his ass in the morning for that. Maybe. After all, he had just saved her coffee.
This time, Marinette noticed when someone entered. She couldn’t bother to turn her head to look at them, though. They would make themselves known to the rest of them soon enough.
No, actually. There were two people. One of them had a very soft walk, barely audible, but now that Marinette was listening, she was able to find it. A hand touched her hair, gently pushing it away from her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. When Marinette looked up, just a little, she found the dark eyes of Cass staring at her. Marinette gave her a weak smile in return.
They don’t talk, not really. The time passed by as Cass just sat on the floor next to Marinette, Tim tried to solve his case, and Jason and Dick were talking (or fighting) about something in hushed voices again. None of the others, except for Cass, obviously, because she noticed everything, paid attention to the small frame that appeared in the doorway. Marinette did. She stood up, stretched and walked to Damian.
She didn’t touch him. She wasn’t sure if it was okay right now. Instead, she watched for any signs of what had happened, or reactions to anyone in the kitchen. Nothing. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Damian shook his head. “No. It was merely an unfortunately timed nightmare, I can survive.”
“I know you can. You’re strong like that. It just doesn’t mean you have to survive on your own, alone. It’s also a strength to recognise when you—,” Marinette yawned. She hadn’t slept in a too long time. “—When you need others for support.”
When Damian lingered in the doorway a little too long, his eyes going between the floor and Marinette. Marinette just opened her arms and let Damian walk into them before embracing him. “Do you want a hug? I can tell none of them you wanted a hug if that helps. We can also go to the living room if that sounds better?”
Damian nodded. Marinette shot Cass a text to drag the rest of them to the living room in about half an hour with pillows, blankets and mattresses. They all needed sleep, or at least rest, and maybe they could get that in a pillow fort?
The two of them went on ahead, and once they were there, Marinette sat on the couch and waited for Damian to come there with her. He, a little reluctantly and hesitating a lot, took careful steps towards her before he too was sitting on the couch and curling up against Marinette. She smiled and pulled him closer, securing them under a blanket.
Maybe he’d feel safer from the nightmares this way.
About half an hour later (though both Damian and Marinette had dosed off already), the rest of the family made their way to the living room, everything Marinette had asked from Cass with them. They built a pillow fort for them as quietly as possible, one of them always watching over Damian and Marinette so to make sure they didn’t wake up. Heavens knew both of them needed the sleep, and they didn’t want to try their luck and see if they would fall asleep again.
After it was done, Jason picked Marinette up in his arms as Dick carried Damian in his, and carefully laid them down on the mattresses before tucking both in. Tim and Cass curled up the closest to the two, Jason and Dick surrounding the smallest four of them the last. It was comfortable and much warmer than it usually was in the house, six bodies all huddled close.
Aside from how none of them knew how to not sprawl over everyone else, it was the most peaceful and well slept night any of them had had in years.
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@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @maribat-is-lifeblood @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @kadmeread @silverwhiteraven @marinettepotterandplagg @freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip
#Into the DC verse#Maribat#ml x dc#dc x mlb#dc#miraculous ladybug#ml#fanfic#fanfiction#ethel's writing
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Coping
Damian Wayne
(angst)
Vampire Reader, because I have a problem.
Coven: for all purporses of this fic, a Vampire coven is an organized underground society of Vampires. Often take pleasure/amuse themselves by partaking in violent and cruel acts toward Humans.
WARNING: USE OF UNIDENTIFIED DRUG AS A COPING MECHANISM (ESCAPE).
Prompt List // Masterlist (in bio)
When Bruce had told you what happened, it'd knocked the breath clean out of you.
When you'd tore off on your bike, helmet strapped on, eyes glowing a dangerous shade of red behind a dark visor, no one had moved to stop you.
When you cut all communication, they started to worry.
When the waterfall parted and the doors drew open, everyone had sucked in a breath.
You wouldn't look at them. You couldn't. Your eyes remained on the cement floor before you. Your tongue locked behind fanged teeth.
You could feel their stares. Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Barbara, Tim. All of them staring at you with horror, disappointment, and fear in their eyes. Dick's eyes were glistening with tears—you could see the shine out of your peripherals.
Your grip on the rear gasket of your helmet tightened, nails digging into the plastic. Not that it particularly mattered, anyway. The bloody crack down one side, peppered dents, and shattered visor put it beyond repair.
Heavy footsteps echoing angrily through the otherwise silent cave, you marched right through the small cluster they'd formed. You still couldn't bear to see their faces.
Bruce called out to you and stormed toward the elevator. At the wide doorway to the Medbay, Alfred waited dutifully as you passed. He would have treated the many cuts and bruises newly littering your skin, or stitched the holes in your jeans, your jacket, or your shirt, had you stopped. But you didn't.
Again, Bruce called you. He called you by a moniker you no longer deserved. This time, you could hear his boot steps gaining on your own.
Then, his hand his on your shoulder, and you're stopping abruptly to spin on your heel. You smacked his hand away, fury burning red-hot in your eyes. "Don't fucking touch me," you snarl.
His mouth hangs open for a moment. He recovers quickly. "Where is he?" He sounds breathless, and he looks tired. Terrified.
You all but leap away from his touch as he reaches to grasp your forearm. The rest of his family gather behind him, all anxious eyes and shivery hearts. You look away. Hurl your helmet across the cave with as much rage as you can pack into the motion. It shatters like glass and leaves an indentation where it hits the wall. "Gone."
Bruce let's out a breath that shakes as hard as your hands. "Gone?"
Dick braves a few steps forward. "What do you mean, gone?"
You bear your fangs and shout your answer, "Dead, you idiot!" It's angry and raw and pained. The word reverberates off the rock walls, echoing back in your ears like piercing needles.
You can't stand the look on Bruce's face, or the pain in Dick's eyes. You turn away, crossing the short distance to the elevator back up to the Manor. You punch in your code and slide in before the doors are comple open.
You should have known better. You should have been there. You should have seen this coming.
You'd warned him about that damned building at least a hundred times. You'd warned all of them. As unassuming as those dirty brown and red bricks looked, the horrors they held were beyond their pay grade.
You knew, though. You'd seen it.
It was a nest, you explained. An old, multipurpose building bought by a suspicious little group decades ago. Likely by the founder, but you weren't sure. A Coven, you'd said. Nothing to play around with.
You'd seen the spark in his eyes. A challenge. You did your best to stomp it out as quickly as you could, and you succeed. You made him promise that he'd stay away from it. And he never broke a promise to you, as cheesy as it seemed.
You had been keeping tabs on them since you'd moved to Gotham, a few years back. It was after they'd approached you, knowing you had a few strings to pull inside the circle of local vigilantes. You'd never liked Covens, but you were fairly new in town and decided that it was worth seeing how others like you acted around one another here. When you'd seen the horrors within those brick walls, you'd turned down the offer for a place among their ranks on the spot.
You should've known they'd turn their eyes on your partner. You just hadnt thought they'd be so bold.
They knew you, after all. They knew what you were capable of. That's why they invited you. They knew your power.
Or at least, now they did. With a building of bodies and blood and flames licking at those filthy bricks, you were sure they knew.
The steel doors pulled apart, a grandfather clock sliding to the side. You moved out and down the hall as quickly as you could with a new limp.
Hours later, you're locking a deadbolt to a dingy door in a dark apartment.
The first thing you did was shut off the heating. You didn't mind the cold—you hadnt since you were Turned—but Damian did. The warmth only reminded you of him.
Next, you unlaced and kicked off your boots, then tossed your jacket toward the kitchen counter on your way through the doorframe.
Then, you find yourself staring blankly into the freezer.
A to-go box, a tub of ice cream, a shelf of tofu, six ice packs, and a bottle of rum.
All of it his.
You slam the heavy door and growl. You growl, because if you don't, you'd whimper.
Finally, you're relacing your boots and marching back out to the city in a different leather jacket.
• • •
Even from across the street, the strong scent of alcohol burns your nose. Red eyes hide behind dark glasses, picking carefully through a steady stream if exiting patrons.
In such a bad part of Gotham, you aren't questioned about such dark glasses so late at night, nor your lonesome leaned against a brick wall in a dim alley.
Finally, your eyes find one man, stumbling about like a newborn fawn, dopey grin, and sloppy words spoken to the breeze.
You push off the wall and cross the slow traffic on the street.
For nearly three blocks, you tail him. Waiting for a buddy to catch up, a phone to ring. Your suspicions are confirmed when no such thing happens.
At last, he all but collapses against the cement wall of a building, obviously fighting for consciousness.
You move in.
As he begins to fall to the ground, you catch him by the collar of his shirt and swiftly haul him into the nearest alley. You slump him behind a dumpster and crouch next to him.
"Sorry bud," you grumble, ripping the collars of his coat and shirt from the base of his neck, "but I could really use a pick-me-up."
Teeth sink into flesh with a sickening noise. Blood draws immediately, spilling out just a little faster than you can drink it. You gulp it down with a desperation you haven't felt in years.
Eventually, the intoxication hits you. Your mind grows fuzzy at the edges, and thoughts become sluggish and tired.
When you've had your fill, you brace yourself against the wall for stability to stand.
You breathe deeply, taking in all the wild, horrid smells of this wretched city.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Your head turns slowly, to peer over the arm still braces against the wall. You arch an eyebrow, glasses slid lazily down your nose. Tim Grayson. No, no. That's not right. Tim. Tim Bake. Drake. Tim Drake. You snort. "What does it look like, Red?"
You can imagine the horror in his eyes as he stares at you from the other end of the corridor. His quiet for a long few seconds. "I thought you laid off the, uh . . . live feeding."
You pushed off the wall, found your balance with little difficulty, and whipped the excess blood from your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket. "Yeah. I did." You stalked closer, hands shoved deep into your pockets. "About the same time I took up the whole hero gig." You waved your hand around in a general sense, before returning it to your pocket. "For obvious reasons."
You stopped a few feet in front of him.
His grip on that bo staff loosened. The sneer of disgust at his mouth softened. You wonder if he can see it in your face.
You're both very quiet for a very long time.
Unfortunately, it didn't last. "You know," Tim started, voice timid and soft, "he really loves you." He'll be back. For you, if nothing else."
You rolled your shoulders. Shifted your gaze. That rock is awfully neat.
"Did you . . ." Your eyes meet his, briefly, before he continues. "Did you see it happen?"
And just like that, whatever buzz you've built up off drunk man's blood subsides. You go rigid again, and your hands are shaking again.
He deserves to know.
"Yeah," you whisper, voice curling like smoke in the air, but it's not in the same way Tim's breath does. "I was so close I could have touched him."
He doesn't reply.
You shrug off the chill that runs down your spine. Your eyes glow a little brighter. "Shouldn't you be patrolling?"
Tim glances back down the alley, the way he'd come. "I was. Then I heard there was some shady person hanging around a bar down the street . . . I'm guessing that was you?"
You nod.
"Right." His eyes drift back to the man slouched beside the garbage. "Is he, uh–"
"No." Liar.
He nods stiffly.
You blow a hard breath through your nose. "I'd better be on my way."
"Uh, hold on," he grabs your arm before you turn away completely, but the look you throw him has him shuffling a step or two back. "Bruce wanted me to tell you, if I saw you, that he wants to talk to you."
You roll your shoulders higher, turning back down your side of the brick passage. "Tell him to shove it," you growled.
"You aren't the only one who lost him, you know," he says suddenly.
You try hard, you really do. But in the end, you've already got him pinned to the wall. When you speak, it's dangerously low and he can't tear his eyes from yours, gleaming threats under moonlight. "You weren't there. You didn't have the chance to stop it." Your teeth were bared, pink-stained fangs on full display and you snarled. "It wasn't your fault."
Forcefully, you released him. Hands shoved back in your pockets, a silent promise to your lover lingering in the back of your mind, you stalk off again, vanishing around the corner and into the shadows.
Tim watches you go.
• • •
Your head is absolutely spinning. You feel dizzy, despite laying perfectly still on your beat up sofa. Colors and shapes swirl behind your eyelids, entertaining you easily in the silence. Your mind is numb, vague thoughts blurring around the edges.
God you love this. You'd never done drugs like this before, partly because you were young and partly because it wasn't who you were. But you needed something stronger than second-hand drinking. You couldn't keep seeing his face. You couldn't keep hearing his voice.
So here you were, half asleep on your empty, dark apartment, exactly a week after that night. You didn't know that, though. You were blissfully unaware of the date, the time, and the dimming sunlight creeping beneath and above thick, drawn curtains.
Your jacket is still half on from the night before, boots still loosely laced on your feet, one flat on the floor and the other tossed over the arm rest opposite your head.
Your lips are parted in a dopey smile, fangs only barely visible through the crack.
You jolt at the knocking.
Red eyes snap open, lips clamp shut. Colors and shapes just barely line you vision and you silently search for the source of the noise.
Your eyes hit the door, finally, and you see the shadow shifting in the crack of yellow light beneath the door.
Standing from the couch is a task of it's own, as you have to take a good minute to find your balance. Whoever it is knocks again. Boots barely leaving the floor as you cheat steps, you make your way to the door and flip the deadbolt, before you haul the door open.
Dick stands before you. His clothes are rumbled, and he looks as though he'd rather be absolutely anywhere else.
You have to squint against the buttery hallway light, using a flat hand to shield your eyes from what seems to you like a bare bulb. "What?"
He looks a little startled. You aren't sure why.
(In reality, he hadn't anticipated your eyes to be do dark around the edges with days old makeup, or your complection to look so sickly.)
Your jacket has fallen down on one side, now bunched around your elbow. You make no move to fix it, obviously leaning against the door for support.
He stammers before he answers. "Are you okay?"
You know there's a reason he's asking you. There's something big that happened, but you aren't sure what it is. Was it recent? What's it about? "Yeah?"
He blinks at you dumbly once, twice. "Really?" He runs a hand through uncombed hair. "Nobody's heard from you since the, uh . . . since last week. I thought I'd check on you." He doesn't meet your eyes.
You rest your head against the door, too. "Uh, thanks, I guess." Your eyebrows slump together.
Now his gaze flickers to yours. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem a little . . . out of it."
You nod, wood scratching your scalp. "No no, yeah, I'm totally good. Little high, is all." You shrug, as if you've said nothing out of the ordinary.
His eyes blow wide. "You–You're–? High?"
"Mhmm."
Again, he stares. "Are you serious?"
"Well," you make a face, "yeah. What do you do when you wanna, uh . . . I don't know. I had a reason, but I kind of forgot it." Your head raises from the door and you snap your fingers. "That's it! I wanted to forget something."
A blank stare hits you. His jaw is left slack by astonishment. Shock? You aren't sure.
"Anyway," you scratch the back of your head, "what did you come here for?"
This seems to rouse him from his daze, but the expression that replaces it pulls at your heart. He seems disappointed, maybe even a little sorrowed. "I, um. I wanted to check on you after what happened to Damian."
There it is.
Your mood sours immediately, stills and snipets if memories flashing through your mind like a messy animation. Your eyes hit the floor as his screams rip through your subconscious. Eyelids squeeze shut.
Your thoughts are still muddied. It feels like trying to pull something free of tar.
"(Y/N)?"
"You should leave."
"But–"
"You should leave," you repeat, eyes cracking open just enough to see his. You ignore the blurriness and the knot in your throat. "Now."
He nods silently. He understands. "I'll come back in a few days," he warns. You nod.
Your deadbolt is back in place before he's to the elevator.
Peering around the apartment, at the dark shadows lining every wall and outlining every piece if furniture, the mixed drink on the coffee table, the empty vile beside it; your press your back against the door.
Your gaze turns to the bedroom door, still closed from the night you left. You haven't had the strength to even near it.
A dim, deep red light casts odd shadows over his face, especially from where you lay beside him. His eyes look odd, too. You aren't sure if you like the way his features appear, bathed in red.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks you, eyes meeting yours in the semi-dark.
You continue to trace careful patterns into the back of his hand the nail of your middle finger, cradling it in your other palm. "Nothing worth talking about," you assure quietly. "Just you."
"Are you insinuating that I'm not worth your words?" He cracks a grin, though it's lopsided and tired. He's been out all night. The sun is coming up, and yet he's only just going to bed.
You opted to call it an early night. The shine in his eyes had you sure he needed the company.
You'd always been good and weeding out the good night's from the bad. Maybe it was just because you'd experienced them yourself, or maybe you were just more observant than you should be.
You chuckle softly. "Well obviously. Why do you think our schedules contrast do much?"
He smiles at you directly. He's silent for a moment. It's long enough that your gaze moves away from your hands and his to his eyes, to see if he's fallen asleep. You find his eyes staring deeply into yours.
"I love you so much," he states, voice all velvet and honey, every syllable dripping adoration.
You scrunch your nose. "And I love you more than the stars and the moon, but what's got you saying it now?"
You only ask because he isn't typically so forward about it. You've always had to look for it, seek it out between lines of poetry or small favors or little gifts. His love is always coded and complicated, and it's part of why you love him so dearly.
He doesn't answer you. Instead his eyes refocus on your hands. He focuses on the shapes you're drawing. He listens closely to your breathing.
He's never going to tell you that he came so close to death only two hours before hand. He'd felt the icy grip on his heart, threatening silently to freeze it completely.
You enjoy the quiet moments before you both nod off.
You tear your eyes from the door. Focus on the floor. Focus on breathing. Focus on the sound of blaring horns and roaring engines outside. Focus on anything but the laughing silence.
And laugh it does. It cackles at you, howling with a malicious roar, hell-bent on pounding the understanding into you: you're all alone now.
No one is coming for you now. No one is going to pick up the phone now. No one is going to be sliding into your bed at noon. No one is going to surprise you with hand crafted chocolates you can actually enjoy. No one is coming home.
You squeeze your eyes shut again. You can't go in there. You've been sleeping on the couch for the past week, blankets thrown over every curtain hanger to keep out the sunlight. You've done it to the entire apartment. The second bedroom, the bathrooms, the living room, the attached kitchen. You'd come to associate the sunlight with him.
From sunkissed skin to stories of life before cloudy Gotham, your mind thought sunlight and Damian was never far behind.
You can't take it.
You cross the room in a blur, picking up the glass from the table and hurling it at the opposing wall.
It shatters on impact, splattering dark red liquid down the wall and splintering glass all over the wooden floor.
• • •
Your posture slouches as you trek down a wet sidewalk. You don't know exactly where you are, which isn't the best idea, but then again, you haven't been having many of those lately. You aren't even paying attention to anything around you. Music playing through your headphones, eyes trained straight ahead.
The people around you don't spare you much attention. Some darkly dressed seventeen year old shuffling around in a hoodie is the least of anyone's concerns, this time of night. You know this. You use this.
At the sound of a particularly sharp car horn, your eyes jolt sideways, mostly out of instinct. Just some bastard too impatient to wait for the light to change.
You take the moment of broken concentration to look around some. You're a few blocks from that building, you realize.
You turn immediately. Start walking the other way, keeping your distance from the buildings and the main stream if people by walking right next to the road. Sure, you're gonna have to dodge a few street signs but–
"Josephine!"
Your eyes jump again at the shriek. Your body goes rigid, your mind recognizing the panic in the man's voice instantly after patrolling for too many years.
You haven't been out properly since that night, and you aren't sure if you ever want to out again. But those instincts never seem to leave. There's no off day once you've gotten into the swing of things.
You see it before you realize it. Across the street, a little girl, about seven or eight, with dark hair and brown skin, chasing after a robotic dog as it turns and rolls right into the road.
Before your even have the chance to regard the situation, you're charging into traffic. You hoodslide a towncar as the horn blares, and then you're leaping out if the way of a Ford. You race through the temporarily empty lane, and then you're bringing down and scooping the little girl and her toy up and ducking off the road completely.
You set her down in front of the stricken looking man, who proceeds to thank you profusely. You forge a tight lipped smile and tell him it's not a problem, that you're just happy to have been fast enough.
And once again, you're on your way.
By the time you make it home, the sun is starting to think about rising, and your playlist has cycled through twice. You unlock your door with a dry throat, a blank white plastic bag in the crook of one arm.
The room is dark when the door opens, but you smell a person the second the hallway light spills in.
You don't tense. You recognize the remaints of expensive calogne before you even get in the door. "Morning, Bruce." You lock the door behind yourself and flick on the kitchen light.
He still stands in the shadowiest part if the large room, behind the armchair by the window. "We haven't heard from you in two weeks."
"Dick came by," you stated. You kept your back to him, pretending to be too busy putting away two pints of A Positive.
You can't look at him.
You can't look at his face, especially. It's too similar.
And besides that, you already know why he's here. His son is dead, and you are the only one who knows what happened.
"That was six days ago." You hear the give in his tone. He doesn't want to talk about this any more than you do, but he has to know. He moves toward you. "You were supposed to come back. Tim said he told you."
"He did," you assure, getting a glass down from the cabinet by the refrigerator, mostly empty plastic sack in your other hand.
You hear anger seeping into his voice. "Do why didn't you?"
Hesitance. The glass is on the counter, but you aren't pouring yet. Your eyes are on the splash back in front of you.
"(H/N)–"
"Don't call me that," you growl. His steps stop. "Don't call me that."
"(Y/N)," he corrects, "I have to know what happened to my boy."
Your shoulders slump. You have to flatten your hands on the countertop to ground yourself. The bag of red liquid lays on the counter beside the glass, waiting to be poured. You stay that way for a good minute, weighting your words carefully. You reach back into the fridge, but your hand hesitates over the bottle.
Fuck it.
You grab it by the neck and twist off the cap. You half off your glass, and leave the bottle open on your counter. You open the bag and add it's contents to the glass, emptying the bag and filling the cup.
You aren't even sure you'll get a buzz off of this, but you're more than willing to try.
Bruce watches you carefully from the end if the counter on the other side.
"Drink?" you offer, holding out the bottle of rum where he can see it. It almost feels wrong, to offer up something of his so freely.
He pauses before he answers. "No."
You bob your head. Turn around. Lean against the counter. You swirl the concoction idly. You still don't look at him. You keep your gaze on the painting in the living room, through the wide gap in the wall between the counters and the cabinets.
You remember when he was still painting it.
"I told you all not to go around that place," you begin. Your voice is gravely and sharp, a hardness he hasn't heard from you in a long while guarding your words. "This is exactly why."
"What is it?"
You take a long drink. You revel in the burn it leaves. Your eyes glazed over. "A Coven nest. They gather there, live there, thrive there. It's like a church for a particular group." He crosses his arms and leans against the wall. "They do things there I hope you never see.
"You see, a lot of vampires like to believe they're above humans. That they're inferior. Some Covens use them like animals. Bull fights, gory plays and musicals. You've seen Interview With a Vampire, yeah?"
He nods.
"Kinda like that. Sometimes worse, sometimes not as bad. I've been watching that particular Coven since I got to Gotham. They approached me shortly after I started the gig, wanting to know if I'd join them. I turned them down, obviously." Another long drink.
"I told Damian and the rest of you to stay away from that block. It's crawling with Vampires like that. I didn't want to see any of you getting snatched or worse. I should have wiped them out then and there, looking back. But I didn't. Just watched. Kept tabs.
"Then you called me. Told me he was gone without a trace, and you said he'd been down at that old car rental place. I knew the area. That's why I didn't wait for details.
"When I got there, they already had him tied and ready for something. I still don't know what they were planning on doing with him. I didn't ask questions, because I didn't have time. They jumped me the second I got inside. I had most of them dead or dazed by the time I got to the Big Kahuna."
When you didn't continue, Bruce prodded. "And?"
Your voice came back quiet. "And I wasn't fast enough." You downed the rest of your drink and slid it towards the sink. You misjudge the trigectory, and it slides off the edge and crashes to the floor. You stare down at the chunks and splinters of pink stained glass darkly. Emptily. "I couldn't get to him fast enough, and Regdoral killed him right in front of me."
Bruce was silent for a long time. Neither of you moved to clean up the mess you'd made. "When we went to check the building–"
"I know."
He follows your gaze. His words are softer than you expect. "What happened next?"
You chuckled, but there was no humor there. "I snapped," you shrugged. "I slaughtered every one of them where they stood. Burned every one of them in the Crypt."
Bruce doesn't speak.
Your next words are hardly a whisper. So light and airy that Bruce has to strain to hear them. "Did you find him?"
He goes quiet as well. Then, "Yes."
You close your eyes. Bite your lip. You pinch your palm. Anything to jolt your mind away from him. The memory of that silver sword gliding through him with a sound that still turns your stomach.
"Why did you leave him?"
You pick at a spot on the lip of the counter. "I dunno. I guess, maybe, some part of me hoped he'd beat me home. Maybe he'd been faking his death for one reason or another. Maybe I thought if–if I didnt–"
You sniffle. Your teeth sink into your lip and red spills down your chin and over your tongue.
Bruce shifts his weight. He wants to comfort you, but he doesn't know how, or if you'd let him. He doesn't what to do.
Your legs are shaking as hard as your hands, but they don't last as long. Your knees give out, and you go sliding to the floor, tears streaming freely down both cheeks.
Neither of you move for a long time. Neither of you speak. Not until you stand, shakily, supporting yourself with the counter.
"Bruce," you all but croak. He turns his eyes on you. "I miss him so much."
"I know," he replies quietly, risking a few steps toward you. "We all do, (Y/N)." He rests a hand on your shoulder. He's testing.
You slip forward from the counter, wrapping shivering arms around him in a desperate pursuit of comfort.
He gives it willingly, hugging you tightly.
You cry. He cries. All in a dark, bitter silence that traps you in a place you once knew as a home.
PART II COMING SOON
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thanksgiving with the wayne’s
A big thanks goes to @fsketchart for helping me revise this! Gosh you are such a lifesaver! Ilysm <3
Hey guys! I hope you all have a good Thanksgiving! Please rest, you all deserve it! And if you plan on going Black Friday shopping, please be safe! And buy me 346784783 fluffy jackets, ok ty ily all!
lil heads up to clear things up: Damian and Marinette have known each other for about two years in this au, They met when Marinette went down to Gotham for a field trip. And ya you guys can guess the rest they basically fell head over heels for each other but they are both dumb lil babies.
ANOTHER HEADS UP LOL : basically this is going to be the most random thing you’ll ever read! enjoy!!
The autumn leaves crunched at her feet, The breeze blowing quickly causing goosebumps to form against her soft smooth skin.
“Ahh Autumn,” Marinette thought to herself. Marinette loved the thought of fall. She loved the feel of everything, Everything was so beautiful. Different colors of red, orange, and yellow danced around the ground. She especially loved the fashion. She literally would die for a knitted sweater right now.
At this point Marinette was gathering the last bits of ingredients that were on her shopping list. You see, Damian invited Marinette to spend the holidays with him and his family. And of course Marinette couldn’t say no to him. And as an add on, Marinette offered to help cook Thanksgiving dinner with Alfred! Marinette was ecstatic and couldn't wait to see the family. Marinette snapped out of her train of thought when she realized she was zoning out. Flushed and embarrassed, she whipped out her wallet to pay the cashier. The cashier just chuckled and smiled.
“Would that be all Miss?”
“Yes, Thank you!”
“No problem, miss, Have a lovely Thanksgiving!” He said while handing her bags full over spices.
“You too!” Marinette walked out of the store with her thoughts filled with a special loving someone.
“Come on Demon Spawn! Help us decorate the house!” Jason yelped. At this moment, Tim, Dick, and Jason were decorating this house with many different types of decorations you can name! Fake leaves, pumpkins, and cornucopias! They knew Marinette loved fall and they wanted to do something special for her. Tim was making a list of where he wanted everything to be placed while Dick was setting up the lights.
“Absolutely not.”
“Aw come on! Your girlfriend would love it!” Jason yelled from across the room, as he set the dinner table. They all knew Damian had a soft spot for Marinette, they just wanted to see the two together!
“Marinette is not my girlfriend, she’s just a friend that I invited over to stay with us.” Damian snarled.
“Yeah right!" Dick said exasperated. "We've seen the look you give her, baby bird! Come on whenever you look at her you look so happy!”
“He has a point Damian,” Tim added on.
“Oh shut up, and hand me a pumpkin.” Damian snarled while trying to hide his blush.
Different wonderful aromas filled the air. Cinnamon, pumpkin and vanilla scents danced together, leaving a pleasant sweet smell that filled the air. The kitchen counters were a disorganized mess of different ingredients.
“Hey Alfred, Can you pass me the spice to your left? The stuffing is a bit on the bland side.” Marinette whisper yelled over to Alfred.
“Yes of course Ms.Marinette.” Alfred said while walking over to Marinette and handing over the spices.
“Thank you-”
“WOAH IT SMELLS AMAZING IN HERE!” Dick yelled while running to the table counter. He looked around and inhaled the sweet scents before signing. Noticing where the pleasant aroma came from, he gave puppy dog eyes.
“Ohh can I try some? Please Marinette!!!” He begged.
“It's not done yet Dick, maybe later.” Marinette said.
“Aw come on! It's probably already amazing!” He said while trying to steal the bowl away from her.
“No Dick! I want it to be perfect!” Marinette yelled.
Within seconds of fighting over the bowl of stuffing, Dick had finally been able to snatch it right out of Marinette's hands. But everything went into slow-motion as the aluminum bowl slipped out of Dicks grasp and landed straight onto Marinette’s head.
“Oh my god! I am so sorry!” Dick yelped.
“Oh two can play at that game!” Marinette yelled while throwing a hand full of stuffing towards Dick.
“Oh you're so on!” Dick roared while grinning ear to ear.
“You two are insufferable.” Alfred said while leaving the room.
Dick and Marinette spent the next few minutes at war. The flour was all over their hands and hair as the spice were spilling onto the floor. The battle became so fierce some of the desserts were beginning to spill onto the floor and get crushed by pots and pans that were falling and flying everywhere.
“What’s going o-” Damian was interrupted by a huge amount of pudding landing right onto his hair.
Some unrecognizable sounds came out of Dicks and Marinette's mouth.
Marinette quickly ran up to Damian, and tried to quickly clean up the leftover pudding that was in his hair. “Oh my gosh! I am so sorry Dami! Dick tried to taste some of my stuffing that wasn’t done yet, and ended up spilling it all over me and that's how this all started! Now everything is ruined! I am really sorry! I can’t believe that happened! Oh my goodness I’m so sorry I ruined everything-”
A soft finger landed on top of Marinette's lips.
“Shh you’re rambling Angel. Don’t worry about it, Dick can be like that sometimes.”
“Hey!” Dick screamed.
“Shut it Dick, Like I was saying its ok, let's get you cleaned up ok?” Damian whispered.
“Ya ok.” Marinette said while looking down Way to go, Marinette! I can't believe I ruined Thanksgiving dinner! Everyone is going to annoyed...I can't believe I let it escalate that quickly! Marinette thought to herself.
Damian placed two hands under Marinette's chin and lifted it up, causing her to warp back into present time.
“I'm not mad at you Angel, I would never be.” He said while taking her hand into his and rubbing circles around her palm with his thumb.
“Ew you two go get a room!” Dick teased.
“Once again Dick, Shut it. Make sure you clean up this mess ok? And try to salvage some of the food.”
“Ugh why do I have to do it!” Dick whined
“You are the one who started this no? So be the one to finish it.” Damian snarled.
“Ugh fine, But Marinette you owe me one of your MDC originals!”
Marinette giggled, “Ok Dick whatever you say!”
“Come on Mari, Let's get you cleaned up.” Damian said while leading them to her guest room she was staying in.
“Damian you really don’t have to help me, I can do this by myself.” Marinette said while turning around in her seat. They were both seated by her vanity. After that random food fight, Marinette had to shower three times just to take out all the leftover food debris stuck in her hair! Damian insisted on helping her get fixed up. He made sure she was alright by washing her dirty laundry, and by helping her comb her hair.
“It's quite alright Angel, and besides I want to help.”
“T-thanks Dami! But I’m quite capable of combing my hair.” Marinette chuckled.
“Oh I know, It's just fun.” Damian said while combing through the last piece of her tangled hair and placing a feather light kiss on top of it.
“Since you’re all cleaned up, Why don’t we go help Dick clear up downstairs, and try to salvage some of the food?” Damian said while patting her shoulders. Of course he doesn’t want this lovely moment to end, but his brothers would probably start to get suspicious. And he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that right now.
So they weren’t able to salvage any of the food.
During the epic food fight, Dick managed to jump over the counter, bringing the whole turkey down with him.
So what other option did they have?
They ordered take-out. Duh.
They were all scattered around the living room. Bruce and Alfred were sitting at a nearby table talking about the past events, and Tim, Dick, and Jason were sitting right beside the fireplace enjoying their Chinese food, while having an argument about something ridiculous. But Damian didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was the petite body curled up right beside him. There sat Marinette dozing off right in his arms.
Best Thanksgiving Ever. He thought to himself, right before drifting off to sleep.
HI GUYS !!! I hope y'all enjoyed this, I know this is a random au fic thingy BUT ITS OK. ily all!!
tag list : @destinyhunter77 @mycupisbroken @fsketchart @thewheezingbubbledragon @luciferge @zalladane @michellemagic @asianfrustration13 @st0rmy-w1th1n @thecaptainthunder @bluerosette23 @officiallyathiana @loysydark @kris-pines04 @persephonebutkore @firesong323 @maya-custodios-dionach @corabeth11 @kceedraws
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A form of justice - part five
“I think this is the nicest Hollandaise I’ve ever had”
Kate gave Rebecca a satisfied look. She continued to eat the Eggs Benedict in front of her. Rebecca was enjoying some smoked salmon too but wanted Kate to answer her original question.
“No Kate, I mean what do you think about the case?”
“Oh that” Kate continued to chew on her food. Rebecca had woken at Claridge’s to a text from Kate accepting her offer of breakfast. She had been in the office with the team until midnight chasing down identification on the dead bodies in the flat in Ealing that Patrick Hanlon had been staying in. They had managed to find some details on one so far, and Sullivan eventually tired and told the team to pick up enquiries again on Monday. “Look at it like this. We know there’s a mole somewhere within the Met. We know about the trafficking ring. We’ve made progress. Has it been easy? No. Has it been dangerous? At times. Are we still alive and in a better place than we were a month ago? Yes. Are we better dressed...?” She gestured at the new summer dress Rebecca was wearing
Rebecca could not argue with her logic. Kate had an ability to rationalise like no one else she knew, and she had to admit she liked the clothes MI5 had bought her as part of her reward for the hit she had performed. There was one other question she had for her partner. “Ok. No judgement here, but your closet.” Rebecca had found a multitude of weapons and ammunition in Kate’s spare room and wanted to better understand how she had assembled them.
“I need to introduce you to my friends one day” she replied. “Paula and Marcus. They’re SO19. We met in training and well, we’ve borrowed some items over the last couple of years”. She cut another slice of egg and muffin and chewed it.
“They must be good friends” Rebecca commented.
Kate winked at her. “You have no idea!”. They both laughed and enjoyed the remainder of their breakfast.
—————
“Sod it, I’m off. Don’t work late”.
DCI Sullivan put on his jacket. It was 5pm but he was exhausted and Rebecca could tell it. She wished him a good evening and watched him walk dejected out of the office. Monday had been an interesting day in the office. The weekend of hot weather had led to dark skies and thunderstorms over London. There was the occasional crash or rumble outside the windows of their office at Scotland Yard. Rebecca was still in her position as Sullivan’s secretary and he had called her in to his office first thing to catch her up on the weekend’s activity. Rebecca feigned ignorance as he regaled the story of finding two dead assassins and one dead protection officer at the safe house, Hanlon going missing and the call from MI5 late Saturday to finally tell him that they had picked up Hanlon in time and now had him stashed away in a secret location. Rebecca listened to his exasperated story and then offered to help how she could. Sullivan had her work with the team to file reports on the weekends activity, as well as setting up a harrowing call to the family of the murdered officer. Rebecca had to listen to the call but did so standing, proud of the empathy and emotion with which Sullivan spoke to the young man’s mother. She felt emotional about his death, having witnessed it first hand. Unable to share this with anyone other than Kate, she vowed to pursue Mulvaney and help the team in any way she could.
The team had now identified the two assassins and their links to Mulvaney. Both had worked for companies that had ties to him, and they were searching for any extra payments into accounts or other financial ties they could use as proof that Mulvaney had paid them to kill Hanlon and the protection officer. They had no luck so far, and Kate had privately confided in Rebecca that they did not expect to be so lucky. When it came to his dirty business, Mulvaney paid in cash.
There was also the issue of how they had found the house in the first place. Rebecca had spent a lot of time putting together a list of who would have access to the files. It read as a list of all of the senior commissioners in the Met hierarchy as well as the Detectives she worked with. She didn’t know who to trust but formulated a plan to find out. With Sullivan now out of the office, she put it into motion. She saw Oli Afidi also stand and start packing his bag on his desk. He’d been soaked during a storm whilst getting lunch earlier and Kate suspected he wanted to get home and change his blue shirt. She stood and smoothed the red sleeveless dress that she was wearing. It was modest with a high neckline and came down to her knee but it was well-fitted. She walked to Afidi’s desk with a folder.
“Excuse me Oli, you heading off?”
“Soon” he replied, “but what can I do for you?” Afidi was in his late 20s and a generally jovial character. He had a glistening smile and was friendly to everyone in the office and outside. His parents had moved to the UK from Nigeria before he was born and whilst he had faced a lot of prejudice in his life, it seemed to make him more determined to excel.
“You’ve been working on some of the pawn shops right?” she asked him.
“Yeah that’s right”
“Well we just got the paperwork through to do a raid on a property in Hackney tomorrow. Local force want to shut it down. I need to get the authorisation done tonight for our involvement but now the guv has left could you sign it?”
“First I’m hearing of this” Afidi said, taking the folder. “Hackney want to move in now?”
“I think they’ve pulled some strings. You know how it can be”.
Afidi shook his head. “Yep, I do” he said. He signed the papers. “They’re a go tomorrow morning?”
“8am. Shall I say you want to join them?”
“Please. Thanks Rebecca”. He handed her back the folder and checked his phone. “Shit”, he said, “told the wife I’d be on the tube 5 minutes ago. If Hackney give you any more, will you let me know?”
“Sure” she said.
“Cheers Becca. Catch you tomorrow”. He gave a smile and left.
One down, thought Rebecca. She returned to her desk and prepared some more papers, keeping herself busy. At half past five, Kate bid everyone a good evening, loudly announcing she’d “had enough of this load of bollocks. We’ll finish this fucker tomorrow” and storming off. Rebecca took another file to Detective Inspector Tim Warren. He was at his computer reading intently and Rebecca had to pause by his desk for a few seconds whilst he finished before he acknowledged her existence.
“Good afternoon Rebecca” he said in his typically English voice. Inspector Warren was a Cambridge graduate with a keen mind and an eye for detail. He was often quiet but deliberate. Rebecca knew him least of the team as he was private and coy about his life away from the office. He had let slip that he had a boyfriend of several years and lived in Hampstead but that was about it. He always dressed professionally. Even in the heat of summer he was still wearing a floral tie and his white shirt was crisp and clean.
“Sorry to disturb Warren, but you’re the only one of the team left. Just had some papers faxed over from Waltham Forest. They’re going to be raiding a pawn shop in Leyton tomorrow. It has Mulvaney links”.
“What?” Warren snatched the papers from her hand and looked at them irritated. “When did these come through?”
“Just this second” she replied, “had they not told you?”
“They had not”. His face was red. “Does the DCI know?”
“I just contacted him, but Waltham are saying they need this signed ASAP. They’re hitting at 8am”.
“Communication!” he said, “this is very poor”. He looked at her and shook his head. “I apologise for my rudeness”.
“Not at all” she said, “it’s wrong they’ve dropped this on you last minute”.
Warren sighed but signed the document. “Thank you Rebecca, please let them know they can expect me in the morning”.
“I will, Inspector. Hope it’s a good night”. She took the documents and went back to her desk. She waited another 15 minutes for Warren to leave before logging off her computer and calling Kate.
“We’re a go”, she told her briefly. She used the bathrooms of Scotland Yard to change out of her dress and into black leggings and a tight black running top, looking as if she was heading to the gym. She left the office and walked towards Temple station. She had not gone far when Kate’s car pulled up alongside her and she quickly got in to the passenger side. It took them a while to navigate the streets of London and it was 7pm before they got to the first pawn shop in Hackney. It was on a main road but Kate found room on a side street where they could see it and parked up.
“Your favourite is in the glove box” Kate said. Rebecca opened it and found her trusted Glock 17 and it’s suppressor. She screwed it on to the gun and loaded it, also putting a couple of spare clips into the back of her leggings. “Getting good at that” Kate commented and Rebecca laughed. It was her third time holding a gun in three days and she was right, she had become more comfortable with the idea. She had dreamed of her kills again on Sunday night, waking up breathing heavily and aroused. She found herself hoping to not need to use the weapon but yet ready and wanting to.
Kate was preparing her own Glock. She had changed into a black tank top that sat just above her breasts, giving a hint of her black bra underneath and the black straps over her shoulders. She was also wearing leggings. When she finished, she handed Rebecca a set of car keys. Rebecca pressed the unlock button and saw the car in front of them flash its lights. It was an old Fiat and Rebecca knew it had been acquired from the local police lock up.
“I guess I’ll see you later” she said to Kate. She hugged her partner.
“Tenner says I’m right” Kate replied. She winked at Rebecca, who shook her head and got out of the car. Kate had bet that Warren would be the mole and insisted on staking out the Leyton property, leaving Rebecca to see if Afidi tipped off Mulvaney about Hackney. Their theory was that if one of the two detectives was the mole, Mulvaney would be told about the non-existent raid and make sure the property was empty by the morning. Now sat in the other car, Rebecca was strangely torn. She hoped that neither Detective would be involved and that their nights would pass without incident. But even if nothing happened tonight, would they be able to tell what that meant? It could be that the officers tipped off Mulvaney but he considered moving any money overnight too risky. Rebecca opened her bag, took out her headphones and settled into listening to an audiobook while she pondered these thoughts.
————
Rebecca looked at her phone. It was just after 11pm. She paused her audiobook as a chapter finished and looked out at the stillness around the pawn shop. There was no further update from Kate. The two had made sure to check in every hour via a text message and the most excitement Kate had reported on was when she saw a fox walk by her car. Rebecca dared to hope that maybe all would be ok, that neither detective would have tipped off Mulvaney because neither was working for him. She tried to keep her focus on the shop in case there was anything suspicious. The minutes ticked by.
She shut her eyes briefly but then almost immediately opened them. A white van caught her eye as it pulled up outside the pawn shop. Rebecca studied it and noted the licence plate. It looked like two men were in the front wearing flat caps but she could see not make out their faces. The driver got out of the van and moved around the side so she could not see him but a brief orange glow told her he had likely sparked a cigarette. The passenger stepped out on the side closest to her. He was wearing a black shirt and brown jacket. As he opened his jacket, Rebecca saw something sticking out of the waistband of his jeans. It looked like the handle of a revolver and she sat upright, studying their movements closely. The passenger went to the back of the van and opened the door. A third man came out the van wearing a black jacket and jeans. Rebecca gasped to herself. They must be Mulvaney’s men - Afidi! He had told them! She watched as the third man exited the vehicle. He was gripping the arm and forcing out a young woman. She was wearing a short denim skirt and high boots along with a black strappy top that exposed her back and shoulders. Rebecca wondered if she was also part of the crew. The woman stumbled out of the van and the bald man gripping her arm slapped her with the back of his hand. Rebecca was confused. This didn’t make any sense for a crew stashing cash from the business. Maybe they weren’t there for that, but then what? What were they doing with the girl? She didn’t look to be safe. Should she intervene?
Rebecca processed the thoughts in her head as she saw all men disappear into an alleyway that led to the back of the shop, the woman being forcibly dragged and stumbling. The sight of her in distress made up Rebecca’s mind. She briefly thought of Kate but knew there was no time. Whatever was going on the woman needed help, and only she could provide it. She tucked her gun into her leggings and stepped out of the car. She crossed the street quickly and paused by the alleyway. Hearing no sound, she glanced quickly and saw no-one. She pulled out her gun and advanced, keeping the Glock supported in both hands and raised high, ready to strike. She paused at the end of the alley and flattened herself against the wall. She peaked her head round, trying to get a view of the back of the shop. She saw the back door was open and the driver of the van was keeping guard, his hands tucked in his pocket. There was a high-pitched scream from inside the building, muffled by its distance and he looked into the room that the door led to for a couple of seconds. Rebecca surmised that the woman was being attacked further inside the building, presumably by the other two men. The guard seemed disinterested in what was going on and Rebecca took her chance.
She swung her body around the corner, raising the gun as she did so. The guard had time to look at her but did not see the black of the gun initially until she fired pfft-pfft into his chest. He opened his mouth but Rebecca had already raised her aim higher and fired pfft into his head. He fell and was motionless. Rebecca covered his body with her gun as she moved towards him but she trusted her shots - he was surely dead and she had not made a sound. She briefly his jacket and found a large knife tucked inside and a blue Nokia cellphone. She pocketed the phone, then trained her eyes through the back door. It led to an unclean back office, where piles of cheap jewellery and mounds of paper sat around a poorly organised desk and chair. She tiptoed into the office and had a closer look. There was another wooden door in the far corner of the room that presumably led to the counter and one by its side that led to the front of the shop. There were some filing cabinets and what looked like a heavy safe, neither of which had been touched. Either the men were not here to clean the place out or had not got round to it yet. Rebecca heard another scream, then a crash and a harsh voice shouting “fucking bitch!” and focussed her mind on the task at hand. It sounded like the voices came from the door to her left, the one that led to the front of the shop. She placed her hand on the handle and raised the gun. She took a deep breath and opened the door wide.
The door opened to a wide shop floor with rows of jewellery and electronic goods in glass cabinets around the place. She saw the woman was being held down on top of one of the cabinets filled with watches, the passenger from the van holding her arms above her head whilst the man from the back grabbed at her legs. The woman was thrashing but Rebecca could see the men had her subdued. Her pants had been pulled down and were on the floor and there was a cut on her head. As she entered the room, both men looked up at her.
“The fuck?” said the one holding the woman’s arms as he saw Rebecca clad in black with her suppressed weapon. His hand reached inside his jacket towards the revolver and Rebecca turned her gun on him quickly. Pfft pfft pfft pfft. She fired rapidly to stop him reaching what he was grabbing for. She hit him in the chest and side and he staggered back, crashing into some shelves.
“Oh shit” said the other man. His belt was undone and as he turned to face Rebecca his trousers fell down, exposing his grey boxer shorts.
“Put your hands up” Rebecca commanded him and he did so. She quickly glanced at the other man on the floor. He was wheezing but not moving. The woman had stopped thrashing and was just staring at Rebecca, unsure of what happened. “It’s ok” Rebecca said to her, “Im not here to hurt you”. The woman said nothing but edged off the cabinet and away from the man. “Who the fuck are you?” she asked the man, keeping the gun pointed at his chest.
“Fuck off” he said.
“Who sent you here?” she asked. He said nothing. She lowered her guns aim to the man’s knee. “Answer me or the gun” she told him.
“Nobody sent us” he said. “I know the owner here. Just wanted a laugh”.
“I don’t believe you”.
“It’s true!” he protested, “this place is empty overnight”.
Rebecca rationalised what he saying. There were no bags or cases on any of the men. They had not made an attempt to get in to the safe. Perhaps it was poor timing after all. Did that clear Afidi? She could not say.
“So she’s just a laugh?” Rebecca asked him, nodding at the woman against the wall with her torn clothes and bleeding head. She felt fury towards the would-be rapist.
“She’s just a fucking whore” he spat back, “and so are you”. He lunged forward towards her but Rebecca took a step back and fired pfft-pfft into his chest before he could reach her. He fell to the floor on his back.
“Fuck you” she said as she stood over him. She aimed at his manhood and fired pfft. The man howled in pain as the bullet hit him, blood pouring and staining his boxer shorts. Rebecca watched him squirm and smiled. There would be one less rapist on London’s streets. That could only be a good thing. She put her foot on his chest and felt the endorphins flow through her. She let them linger for a second, then fired her remaining bullets into his chest in rapid succession pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft, each squeeze of the trigger bringing her enjoyable sensations. The slide on the gun stayed back and she ejected the clip, getting a new one from her leggings. She fired a nonchalant pfft into the mans head, then walked to her first victim in the room and did the same.
She turned to the woman in the strappy top. She put her hands up instinctively. “It’s ok”, said Rebecca, “but I think you need to get to hospital”. She had an idea and went to the body of one of the men. She found his wallet inside his pocket and 40 pounds in cash. “Take this”, she said, handing it to the woman, who lowered her hands. “Get a cab. You never saw me ok? There was a man here. He wore a mask and had a gun. That’s all you need to say”.
“Tha-thank you” the woman stammered. Rebecca smiled at her.
“Go, go now” she told her and the woman headed out of the office. Rebecca searched the remaining bodies and found an old iPhone in the pocket of the man she had shot in the balls. She surveyed her carnage and then left quickly, heading to the car she had been using. There was a chance someone would have heard the commotion and the police could arrive soon. She drove off, calling Kate on speaker as she did. The phone rang several times and Rebecca was starting to get concerned before Kate answered.
“Not a good time now” her colleague said.
“No Kate, I need to talk to you” she said hurriedly.
“Not now”.
Rebecca was annoyed. “Why not?” There was silence for a few seconds. “What’s going on?”
“I found the mole” Kate replied. “I’m with him now”.
“What?!” Rebecca exclaimed. She listened down the phone and heard Kate’s footsteps. She was evidently walking somewhere. She heard a chik-chak as a bullet was chambered and a man’s voice. It was well-mannered and deep.
“Kate! What are you doing here?”
Rebecca recognised the voice immediately. It was Warren.
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The Archer -Part Twenty-Three
Warnings: Language, Angst, Violence, Blood, Torture, Electrocution
Part Twenty-Four
Word Count: 2.5K
Tag List: @idkmanicantenglish @kishony-the-geek @unknowntoanyone @subtleappreciation @catxsnow @starxfires
A/N: AGAIN THIS IS REALLY DARK PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRESSION
As Rory sat in the chair, she could feel how weak she was getting. It had been weeks and she was still playing Joker's prisoner, every day he would come in a try to piss her off to the point where she would kill him but every day it didn't work. Since she worked out the fact that it was Slade who put him up to this, she knew what he wanted. Slade wanted her to kill again, and spiral further before he finally killed her himself.
When it didn't work, the Joker took to his favorite part; torturing her. Of course, the wound on her side was still injured and he used it to his advantage. The Joker figured out pretty early on just how high her pain tolerance was, and what would make her scream but not what made her angry.
Her body was sore, and her throat was dry. Of course, no one was courteous enough to let her take a shower, or even wash her hair so it was matted and went everywhere. Her suit was dirty and covered in blood, grime, sweat, and dirt. Her bow and quiver were missing along with her utility belt, Rory had a feeling they tossed them somewhere in a dumpster.
Every day she reminded herself of what was important, it was easy to lose yourself in this situation and Rory refused to let that happen. No matter what the Joker did to her, she refused to kill even if it meant he killed her instead. At this point, she partially hoped that he was getting tired of her and would just put an end to all this but then she would think of Tim. Rory didn't want to put that kind of pain on him, nor did she want Oliver, Dinah, and Roy to hurt like that either.
She worried about Tim more than anything, what was he doing and how was he handling it? She wasn't there to make sure he took care of himself, and she was sure one of the others would make sure he at least ate something. Her thoughts wandered to the others, especially Barbara and Jason.
They were hurt by the Joker, Barbara was paralyzed and Jason was literally murdered by him. She really hoped that they didn't see the footage the Joker sent to Batman and that Tim wasn't seeing it either.
Right on schedule, the Joker walked in with four of his goons at his side. He held something in his hand, but Rory couldn't see what it was from her spot and the dim lighting. "Hello, birdy! How'd ya sleep?" he laughed, swinging the item in his hand.
Rory's eyes followed him, as he walked to the camera and turned it on. She saw the light go green and she knew it was recording. "I slept great, metal chairs are ever so comfortable. We should switch places so you could see."
The Joker laughed, "Wow, you really don't give up, do you? Why, do you want to beat me around some?"
"Wouldn't you like to know, I see you brought more friends. Are you scared that I'll find a way to kick your ass with a metal chair too?" she asked, blowing her hair out of her face. She noticed that they were holding several buckets of what seemed to be just plain water.
"Ever so feisty! Go on boys, drench her!" he said, and beckoned them forward. Each one held a large bucket of water, what the hell was he planning on doing to her with it. Rory watched as the first one dumped the bucket on her and she gasped, it was ice cold and she shuddered in the chair.
"Oh great, I was just thinking about how I needed a shower. I was worried that I was the only one who noticed the sm-" she didn't get to finish before another bucket was dumped on her, Rory inhaling some and began coughing. Her hair fell in her face and she could barely see anything.
"Save the other two for later." The Joker called. Rory tried to blow her hair back but it still stuck to most of her face. She noticed that he was closer than before, and what it was that he was holding.
It was an old-looking crowbar, and he was waving it around with a large grin on his face. Rory knew what he was doing, and it wasn't going to end well.
"I want you to meet a friend of mine, I named it Robin. You know, after the brat I blew up? Apparently he didn't stay dead, and you got to meet him. Tell me, does he still remember me?"
Rory clenched her fist, he was changing tactics. The Joker had figured out that he couldn't break Rory by just hurting her, he had to hurt others to make her snap. "Yeah, I know him. You must be a real shitty clown if you couldn't kill a fifteen-year-old."
"I remember it well." he grinned and swung the crowbar, stopping it right before it hit her chest. "He was tied up much like you are, but without the chair. I remember the sound of each crack as I hit him with this same crowbar."
Rory's eyes didn't leave him. The Joker swung it again, tapping her on the stomach. "Crack."
He tapped her on the shoulder. "Crack."
He tapped her on the back. "Crack."
He tapped her on the back of the head. "Crack."
Rory closed her eyes, trying to keep the image of a young Jason out of her head. She didn't want to think of someone she cares about in that much pain, it hurt her to think of it. The anger was bubbling up inside her, Rory tried to keep it at bay but with every 'crack', it would rise higher and she was close to snapping.
She but her lip so hard to keep herself from yelling in anger, her lip was starting to bleed. Her heart was beating so hard, it made her ears pound and her breathing ragged. At this moment, she wanted nothing more than to take the crowbar to him but she didn't.
The Joker could see that he was getting to her. "What? Too much?" he grinned.
Rory looked at him and gave him a glare. "Go to hell."
At her words, he began laughing. "You have more self-control than I gave you credit for, I can tell you want to do something to me. Come on, say it."
Rory stayed silent, she refused to say what she was thinking and give him what he wanted to hear. That he was starting to break her down, by threatening her family. "I said, go to hell."
This time, he didn't laugh. "You know, you should really do what you're told." The Joker backed up and Rory saw him grab something off a table that was attached to a cable. Following it, she saw that it let right to the puddle of water surrounding her, and right, where it touched the cord, was cut slightly.
Looking back at him she laughed. "You're going to electrocute me? That's the best you can do?"
Rory was good at masking the emotions in her voice, but it was her eyes that gave away what she really felt and she was terrified. She was covered and surrounded by water and was sat in a metal chair. Rory was a perfect conductor for electricity.
She watched as he pressed the button, Rory letting out a scream of pain. This was by far the worst pain she had felt, electrical shock coursed through her body making her twitch and scream wishing it would stop.
As soon as it came, it was gone. Rory dropped her head, panting softly as tears fell from her eyes. The water on her face covered it up some, but anyone could see that they were tears if they were close enough. Before she could even catch her breath, the pain was back and she started screaming again.
The Joker held the button for longer this time, letting it go a few seconds after the last time with a huge grin on his face. "Why don't you just kill me already," she muttered, her hair covering her face.
The Joker walked over and lifted her head up, Rory too tired to fight back. "Because that would be too easy." he then swung the crowbar and hit her fully in the stomach, making Rory gasp in pain making it impossible to breathe.
He hit her several times, satisfied as he heard her bones crack under the metal. After a moment he stopped, and Rory was minutes from falling unconscious. Walking back to the camera he turned it off and took the tape out. "Wonderful show darling, now be good and I might have a surprise for you tomorrow," he called.
Rory looked up slowly and watched as he headed towards the door. "I heard from a friend that you are close to a certain bat brat, maybe I should pay him a visit for you and bring some flowers as a gift." he grinned.
Her face drained from color. He was talking about Tim, Slade had told the Joker about her relationship with Red Robin and he was going to use it against her. "I swear if you hurt so much of a hair on his head-"
"You'll what, kill me?" he grinned. "That's what I'm hoping for." and he walked out, leaving Rory there alone with her thoughts.
*****
When Tim woke hours later, his head was throbbing. He sat up and rubbed his forehead trying to ease the pain, he was so exhausted that Jason was able to drug him and make him sleep. Deep down he knew that he did it for good reasons, but he had lost hours of his time that he could have spent looking for Rory.
He stretched with a yawn and looked at the clock, it was almost midnight and that meant that the others would be leaving for patrol soon. Getting up, Tim quickly noticed that he was in Jason's room. He must have put him there once he saw the condition Tim's room was it.
Rubbing his eyes, he left the room and shut the door behind him. Tim walked down to the kitchen and grabbed himself a cup of coffee and some cookies. There seemed to be a constant supply of cookies, Alfred was a stress baker. With Rory missing, Alfred was worried and spent his time making cookies. Tim could tell that Alfred was baking to try and calm his mind while trying to cheer everyone else up, and he loved him for it.
With his cup and cookies in hand, Tim walked down to the Batcave once again. "Jason, you ever sedate me again and I will find your copy of Shakespeare's works and drop it in a blender." When he got down to the cave, he saw that everyone was there talking.
Jason looked up from the gun he was cleaning and grinned. "Hello, sleep well babybird?" he grinned.
Tim frowned and threw a cookie at his head, drinking more coffee. "I mean it, you sedate me and I will blend your books."
"You touch my books and I will give your computer a bath." Jason threatened, cocking his gun in a threatening manner.
"Boys seriously?" Barbara asked, looking over at them from the computer. "Tim, don't touch his books. Jason, next time maybe just punch him unconscious. He would stay asleep longer."
Tim looked at her in shock, "Wow, that's cold Babs."
"You're the idiot refusing to sleep, next time I'll knock you out." she grinned, "But I am glad that you look better, you have some color to your cheeks and don't look like you belong in The Walking Dead."
"If anyone belongs there, it's Jay," Tim argued, Jason just simply rolling his eyes.
"That's so original Timbo, it's like I haven't heard every zombie joke in the book," he muttered and looked over at Bruce who just entered the cave.
"Tonight, we're going to do another sweep of the city. Tim, I need you to come so we can cover it in less time. Can I trust you to keep it together?" he asked, looking at the boy who was cradling a cup of coffee.
"You can count on me Bruce," he said, finishing his coffee. "I feel better and a little nicer, so I think I'll be okay."
Bruce gave him a nod. "I want you all to stick in pairs still, we don't know what's going on but I don't want someone else getting taken." Everyone gave him a nod.
"We leave in twenty, get your gear and anything else you need." and he walked away.
Bruce was going alone, so Damian paired with Dick and Tim paired with Steph, leaving Jason and Cass together. They were all about to get on their bikes to leave when they got a message with another video.
All the chatter stopped and they looked at each other, another video meant that she was alive right?
Barbara hesitated, but she hit play. Watching the video, Tim stayed behind her his eyes not leaving Rory. They all could see how weak she was, her hair was a mess and she looked tired, Tim was worried. He watched as they dumped two large buckets of water on her before the Joker came into focus with something in his hand.
Listening to him recount what had happened in the past, only pissed Jason off more. He could see Rory struggle to keep herself quiet, it hurt her to hear what had happened in gruesome detail but it hurt Jason more to watch her.
When he electrocuted her, he saw Tim blink away tears as he watched. Seeing this happen hurt Tim more than anything and that didn't sit right with Jason. No one hurt his family and got away with it.
"Why don't you just kill me already," she muttered, her hair covering her face.
The Joker walked over and lifted her head up, Rory too tired to fight back. "Because that would be too easy." he then swung the crowbar and hit her fully in the stomach.
The cup Jason was gripping, cracked and shattered in his hand as he watched the Joker beat Rory with the same crowbar he beat him with. Jason had sworn to himself that he wouldn't let anyone else fall to this fate, and yet here he was watching it.
When he stopped, they watched as he laughed while Rory trying to catch her breath and the screen cutting off after that. At the end of the video, they could see that Rory was beaten down physically and mentally. Her comments had stopped and she looked defeated.
With silence washing over them all, they knew what had to be done. Rory wasn't going to last much longer, they needed to find her and fast no matter what it took.
#Tim Drake#Timothy Drake#tim drake fanfic#tim drake fanfiction#tim drake x reader#Red Robin#red robin fanfic#red robin fanfiction#DC comics
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