#but like whoever Jason like blushed at over holding hands with?

[lookismfanfics]

𝐁𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐.

Notes: If ya’ll want part 3 it’ll probably include Goo, Vin, Daniel, Jihan, and whoever else you guys want. Just a heads up!

Warnings: Fluff, nudity (not explicit), wholesomeness, mild cursing, mentions of violence

Eugene • Gun • Zack • Johan • Jake • Lineman • Jason • Hudson

𝐄𝐮𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞

🝮 The candles, assortments of expensive shampoos, classic piano melodies playing from the speakers, and altogether romantic atmosphere weren’t out of the normal for Eugene.

🝮 Shower time was usually like this. He was busy, and needed to unwind… but in a timely manner.

🝮 The only thing different about the bathroom today was you.

🝮 You. Crouched by the tub, pouring globs of bubble-bath solution carelessly into the foamy water. Wrapped in his a luxurious robe.

🝮 Eugene takes off his quickly-steaming glasses, wiping them gingerly against his shirt.

🝮 “What’s all this about, (Y/N)?” He asks. No doubt he’s forming an answer of his own right now. You smile coyly.

🝮 He likes that smile on you. Your casual wit and intellect never fails to charm his cooly-intelligent and egotistical self.

🝮 “It’s your shower time. Says so on the calendar,” you state. “I told you sharing our Cloud wasn’t an invitation for you to spy on my personal schedule,” he counters.

🝮 He ends up cracking a smile anyway. The type of smile he reserves specifically for your enjoyment.

🝮 “Whatever. Get in.” You gesture towards the tub, unfazed as Eugene stares at you cooly. “Sorry. You want privacy undressing or something?”

🝮 His sharp “yes” falls on deaf ears. You both end up stifling giggles and sharing looks as he piles his clothes on the floor.

🝮 The soap suds in the tub are an off-white color. Eugene hates dyed bath bombs.

🝮 After he submerges himself in the water and has a book in his hand, you take to kissing his knuckles and smoothing out his hair.

🝮 Neither of you converse very much. He smirks whenever your eyes meet, though.

🝮 It’s elegant and intimate. That’s norm for being in a relationship with Eugene.

𝐆𝐮𝐧

🝮 It started off with a workout.

🝮 Gun, the ridiculous bast*rd, trying his hardest to overwork you till your bones break. For the sake of getting stronger.

🝮 And now that that’s over, it’s your turn.

🝮 Exasperated and breathless as you push on his bare chest, trying to force him through the doorway of the bathroom

🝮 “Just— get— in— Gun!” You huff, slapping your hand roughly against the side of his torso.

🝮 He’s such a pig sometimes.

🝮 On his own he walks backwards and sits down in the bathtub. Soapy water engulfs his frame. His normal nonchalance is wasted on you. All he ever seems to do is smirk when you’re around.

🝮 You mumble “jerk” and in response he tells you to “eat ass”

🝮 You hold his head underwater for that-

🝮 He chooses the soap. A musky, expensive brand. Something that smells like him.

🝮 While Gun scrolls boredly through his classical playlist you take off your clothes.

🝮 Hop right in beside him, let him spread his legs and lean against his back. He doesn’t mind. Actually, he prefers it that way.

🝮 “You did good today,” Gun remarks. He leans his head back against the wall. You hum in reply.

🝮 It’s not so much a bath as it is a warm soak.

🝮 Gun’s hands rub down your legs roughly. Even if he isn’t gentle, per say, it feels nice for your aching muscles.

🝮 “You weren’t so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles at that.

🝮 You’ll come out of that bath with Gun’s signature scent all over you. He doesn’t mind THAT at all.

𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤

🝮 If athletic had a scent… then it would smell exactly like Zack Lee’s shampoo.

🝮 He digs his hands into the side of the bathtub and wills himself not to blush as you crouch beside him, pouring more bubble solution into the foggy water.

🝮 “Where’d you buy this anyway?” You ask, knowing Zack doesn’t like buying cheap brands. And it doesn’t smell bad, necessarily.

🝮 He swallows, eyes narrowing and a sheepish flush rising to his face. “I dunno. Do you not like it or something…?”

🝮 “No it’s fine. It smells like you.”

🝮 Zack’s hands are busted. His cracked knuckles are a clear indicator of the fight he had gotten himself into.

🝮 You grumble about it a little, but not too much. Just a simple, “I thought we talked about you getting into fights…” and then you dropped it.

🝮 You lathered your hands with shampoo, scrubbing deep into the roots of his hair.

🝮 You tenderly scrubbed across his body, knowing he was unable to with his mangled hands.

🝮 Sweet, rushed kisses followed. Zack is such a simp— almost completely unable to look you in the eye, let alone return your affection.

🝮 The signiture-athlete-soap was down the drain. Zack dried himself off.

🝮 “You weren’t planning on doing this again… were you?” He calls. When you don’t answer, his chest deflates.

🝮 “(Y/N)— ARUGH!”

🝮 The door slams

🝮 “Why are you naked?!”

🝮 “I’m getting in the shower too…!”

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧

🝮 Puppy eyes. That’s what he gives you.

🝮 Where did he learn this sacred guilt-tripping art from? His dogs?

🝮 Either way, you shake your head.

🝮 “Look, you can use the bathroom to shower- or whatever. But I’m not helping you.”

🝮 Johan: 🥺

🝮 Five minutes later, you’re helping him.

🝮 He’s half naked, and had reprimanded you for staring. “It’s not that big of a deal,” or whatever crap he said.

🝮 You are currently checking the water temperature.

🝮 “Look, using my bathtub is pretty straightforward. Once you get it to the temp you like you can just plug in the drain cap. Okay?”

🝮 You demonstrate. Johan nods.

🝮 “Okay. Soap is there… and-yeah. Have fun Johan.”

🝮 You rise, dodging him and beelining for the door. You have other things, after all-

🝮 “Wait,” Johan mumbles.

🝮 You look over your shoulder, met head-on with those baby brown eyes of his. Johan blinks. His brows are furrowed slightly in contemplation. Or whatever is going through his pea-brain.

🝮 “Can you get in with me?”

🝮 🫠

🝮 (I can’t tell you what to do. Hop in or leave him hanging- 💅)

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

🝮 His shirt slips off a solid abdomin and exposes inked shoulders and chest. His tattooed arms flex as the shirt falls to the side.

🝮 This display is… seen by no one. Jake has no audience in the empty bathroom but himself.

🝮 He cranes his neck to catch sigh of some scrapes and bruises on his back. It not too difficult. Even through his peripherals the purple splotches are obvious.

🝮 With a sigh, Jake begins to unzip his pants and unclamp his belt—

🝮 THE DOOR CREAKS

🝮 A towel covers him in a second. (Since when has he been self-conscious??) The door opens completely to let you in.

🝮 You… with your arms full of bath and medical supplies.

🝮 You set down the things and face a nervously smiling Jake. The towel is snatched out of his grasp in a millisecond.

🝮 “Don’t bother hiding it Jake. I know you look like a wreck,” you snap.

🝮 Jake? Self-conscious? Nah. Afraid of your wrath? Maybe.

🝮 The water is turned on and soon the bathtub is filled. Eventually the soapy water cradles Jake’s large figure.

🝮 Your hands feel nice against his sore skin, he thinks. He stays still as you wash off his cuts and bruises… let’s you wet his hair and scrub soap into his scalp.

🝮 “I love you,” he smiles. Cheeky.

🝮 You sigh and press a kiss against his cheek. “I know.”

🝮 Bubbles eventually popped… the water was drained. Jake’s favorite part was being dried off anyway. He likes his hair being ruffled by you… the soft towel rubbing down his back and legs.

🝮 In the end he smells like strawberries. You can’t help but tease him about that.

🝮 Argument avoided successfully 👍

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

🝮 In all honesty you had never seen Lineman without a shirt on. You’d only… heard about it.

🝮 But anyway. Here you are. Pouring soap onto a washcloth and dabbing it on his temple.

🝮 The excessive amount of bath bombs were completely necessary. You didn’t need to be flashed.

🝮 Lineman sits as still as possible, not wanting soap to get into his eyes. He mumbles about how nice the water feels and how he’s grateful that you’re taking care of him.

🝮 “Why does it smell so peachy?” He asks suddenly, cupping some of the water in his hand.

🝮 You shrug. “It’s just the scent I guess.”

🝮 Bandaids have fallen off and are thrown in the trash. You apply neosporin to the cut over his eyebrow.

🝮 You’re about to pour some water into his hair but he dodges out of the way. Something about a hair routine. Admittedly it is one of his nicest features…

🝮 “Ya don’t have to do that, (Y/N). I’m good,” he tells you sheepishly. He says that a lot actually. He’s capable of turning on the water… cleaning his banged-up body… drying off…

🝮 You do all those things for him anyway. He just complies bashfully and lets it happen.

🝮 Afterwards you ask him to take his clothes off more often (as a joke.) He takes you completely seriously- 😳

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨��

🝮 It’s not that Jason can’t be romantic, but between the two of you, you’re typically the more… intimate one

🝮 This weekend was a bit different though. And without getting into explicit details, you’ve spend a fair share of romantic time together.

🝮 So now, to unwind, you’re grabbing your bath kit and treating the two of you to some self-care. (The bath bombs needed to be used. Lua gifted them to you two Christmas’ ago-)

🝮 You settle for a green colored… minty scented soap. With the pigmented water bubbling and steaming, you decided now was the time to hop in.

🝮 You sink into the tub 🛁

🝮 Jason comes in a few minutes later with some towels and a book for you.

🝮 “Don’t you wanna get in?” You ask. He splashes you with some water and gives some sort of embarrassed reply.

🝮 He uses a loofah to scrub your back. “Isn’t the water too hot?”

🝮 “Nope. Just you.”

🝮 *More aggressive splashing*

🝮 “You’re worse than Jake,” he mumbles, dropping the loofah and sitting against the wall. You just smile in return.

𝐇𝐮𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧

🝮 “What kind of scents do you like?” You’d ask. He wouldn’t give you an answer.

🝮 “Hudson…! I’m for real!” You’d say. Still, nothing.

🝮 “Please just answer my question-” you grumbled. Nothing.

🝮 Hudson didn’t want you to spoil him (that’s… not exactly what you had in mind but-) and he definitely didn’t need you spending your money on HIS beauty products.

🝮 Ever since he joined the Allied…. Idiots (there’s not a nicer way to put it) he’s begun to realize that his own products and routines are pretty low-key.

🝮 He went over Jay’s penthouse once. To drop something off. The dude was basically butt naked, wearing just a skimpy robe. What was that all about? Apparently he was in the middle of some hour-long beauty ritual.

🝮 Then there’s Zack Lee. Don’t even get Zack STARTED on using hair gel… or washing your face… using an exfoliator…

🝮 Compared to them, Hudson just kinda… showered? The soap brand he used jumped from whatever was available. So when he told you he didn’t have a favorite scent, he was being completely honest.

🝮 So you took a guess. Picked out some honeysuckle bubble soap. Some matching scented shampoo. Now you dip your finger into the water to test if it’s okay.

🝮 Behind you Hudson reluctantly takes off his clothes. He takes better care of his sweater than his pants, which he just flops on the floor and toes out of the way.

🝮 You gesture for him to get in.

🝮 “I never asked you to do this…” he murmurs, slipping underneath the sudsy water.

🝮 You nod. “I know. I just felt like it.”

🝮 You kiss his knuckles and help wash his back. You also tease him about his wet, flat hair—

So sorry for the delay everyone! Going to hustle through requests!!

#Also sorry these are short #Idk why- :( #lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism spoilers #lookism x reader #jake kim #big deal #Eugene Lookism #lookism Eugene #Workers Eugene #Eugene x reader #Eugene lookism headcannons #Gun Park #jonggun park x reader #Gun x reader #Gun park x reader #Zack Lee #Zack Lee x reader #Johan Seong #Johan Seong x reader #Jake Kim #Jake Kim x reader #lineman lookism #Lineman #Lineman x reader #Jason Yoon #Jason Yoon x reader #He’s mine 👹

[kelcemenow]

Just A Bit Of Spice.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1479

Warnings Strong language and fluffiness!

Openly flirty Trav is my favourite kind of Trav...so this was fun to write! I hope you enjoy it Anon, whoever you are!! "Can you do a fic inspired by chicken shop date Travis x reader!!!"

Travis cleared his throat as he sat down in front of you. Your hands ran over the cool plastic covered table as your manager handed you a paper cup of water.

You swallowed hard, looking across to the handsome football player that you had always had a small crush on.

"Hey, thank you for coming." You said with a coy smile.

He flashed his perfect teeth at you with a wide grin, "No problem, I thought it would be kinda fun, actually."

You nodded your head as you took a sip from your cup, your mouth anxiously dry, "Hmm, that's what most people say. And it is fun."

Travis had eyes that seemed to bare into you. Your hands suddenly felt clammy and your knees were weakening. Carl, your manager, reached across and placed a small microphone on his collar and you almost felt jealous that he was so close to him. You were already sat down when Travis arrived, meaning you didn't get to greet him how you wanted to with a hug.

"So, when do we start?"

"Start what?" You lifted an eyebrow.

Carl lifted his head up from his iPad, taking your water from the table, "Hey, guys. Save it for the cameras."

You smirked at Travis who covered his mouth to laugh. The pair of you sat in a semi-uncomfortable silence, occasionally stealing looks with each other whilst the filming crew fiddled with wires and lights. You looked over your shoulder to see your assistant and best friend, Georgie grinning from her seat. You shot her a wink and as you turned back around to face Travis, Carl signalled that he was ready to begin.

You ran your hands through your hair and leaned forward slightly, "You ready?"

Travis nodded and rubbed his hands together, poking his tongue out between his teeth, "You know it, baby."

You waited a couple of seconds, waiting for Carl to give you a thumbs up, "Okay, so...hi."

Travis grinned and looked down towards the floor quickly, "Hey. This is nice." He looked around the small chicken shop with large windows and a classic black and white tiled floor, red pleather covered stools and booth lining the wall.

You twisted your mouth and lowered your eyebrows, "Are you joking? I'm sure you, Travis Kelce have been to better places than a chicken shop in a random street in London."

"Nah man, this place reminds of the shops me and my brother, Jason would eat at after school."

You looked across to the menu, "Okay, so first things first. How hot do you like it?"

Travis' eyebrows shot upwards, "Wow, okay. I didn't know we were going there straight away!"

You laughed and reached across, grabbing at his forearm. A tingling sensation filled your chest as you felt how large and toned his muscles were. "Oh, I'm a 'straight-in' kind of girl."

Travis winked and your knees softened further, "Just how I like it."

Your cheeks darkened, "Okay, I'm actually blushing. Stop it! I'm talking about hot sauce!"

"Oh, nothing too crazy, you know. I like a little bit of spice but if it impacts the flavour and the enjoyment of the food, then why do it?

You lowered your head slightly, "I saw you on Hot Ones, now that was impressive."

Travis laughed, "Ah man, that shit was hard! I was determined not to drink the milk or the water and I paid for it. I was in so much pain after that!"

You threw your head back, cackling loudly, "Awww, well I won't lie to you, it kinda fuelled my crush on you back then."

"Back then?" His eyes widened, "You don't still have a crush on me?"

You raised an eyebrow and shrugged your shoulders, "I don't know, we'll see."

You glanced over Travis' shoulder to see Carl nodding and holding his hand out with an 'OK' sign, silently telling you that he was happy with the episode so far.

You locked eyes with Travis, squeezing your things together under the table, "Okay, what are we eating?"

Travis glanced at the large menu on the wall to the right of you, "We could share a bucket?"

You smiled, "Sharing?"

"Well, this is a date, right?"

You nodded slowly, feeling the tension build up between you both, "Sounds good to me."

"So, is this your idea of a good date?"

You leaned back in your seat, "Wait, what? I'm the one asking the questions here. Don't you be trying to steal my job!"

Travis laughed and held his hands up and you could help but notice how large and strong they looked. Small veins were protruding out on his forearm and the muscles underneath flexed slightly.

You tucked some hair behind your ear, "No, to answer your question. I like relaxed dates, but something outdoors maybe. Like a picnic or a boat ride...or even a football game." You pointed to Travis with an open hand.

Two cans of soda were placed in front of you both and you reached forward to grab one, Travis taking the other.

He opened the can, "You'd go to a football game for a date?"

"Yeah sure! Does that surprise you?"

He took a quick sip, "No, not really. It is a pretty good date. You know, football games can be pretty exciting, the seats are quite close together...I'd say it's a good date location."

You placed your nail under the ring-pull and carefully opened the can, avoiding eye contact, "Is that where you'd take me?"

Travis leaned forward, "Nah, I'd do something more romantic. I'd take you ice-skating at Christmas."

You tried to hide the growing smile on your face, "I like the sound of that."

Travis grinned, slowly taking another sip of his drink, "You know, there'd be some hand holding, the lights are beautiful, maybe get some hot cocoa?"

You watched him as he spoke, your feet tapping nervously under the table, a juxtaposition of your calm and collected top half.

"Would you say you have a type?" You held the cold soda can in your hand, the temperature cooling your growing fever.

Travis smirked, "Not really. I think all women are beautiful in their own ways. And I don't meant this to sound cliché, but I am attracted to personality traits and someone's energy."

You snorted a laugh, "That is cliché!"

"But it's true! If someone is funny, that's big points there. If someone is confident or talented or ambitious, that shit's hot, man!"

You brought your hand to your mouth, your long nail positioning itself in-between your teeth. You bit down slightly and noticed Travis shift in focus to your mouth and back to your eyes. You lowered your head slightly, engaging your sultry gaze through your eyelashes.

Travis leaned back in his chair, his hands clasping behind his head and our eyes became hazy as you noticed his bulging biceps. As he stretched his back, his t-shirt lifted slightly, revealing a small line of hair disappearing down into his pants.

You could feel yourself getting hotter and after you ran your hands through your hair, you cleared your throat ready to ask another question, hoping to distract yourself, "What was Travis Kelce's dating life like in college?"

"College?" Travis rubbed his beard with both hands, "Man, I had some girls in my back pocket, for sure. I wouldn't say there was any serious relationships, I was too focused on football. But I had my fair share of flirting."

"Do you think you're good at flirting?"

Travis smirked, "You tell me."

"That wasn't my question." You brought your drink up to your lips, "Do you think you're good?"

He took a slow breath, "Yes."

You nodded lightly, "Interesting."

Travis laughed, "Wait, what does that mean?"

You swallowed the soda, "Nothing. It's just interesting, that's all."

Travis took a sip of his drink as your food arrived at the table. You instantly grabbed a piece of fried chicken, sliding one of the trays of fries closer to you. Travis followed, watching you intently.

After you took a bite of your chicken, you wiped your mouth with a napkin, "Do you have any dating moves? Anything from the Kelce dating playbook, so to speak?"

Travis swallowed his food, "I like giving a lot of eye contact."

"I've noticed."

He nodded, dipping his chicken in some barbeque sauce, "I think it's important, the non-verbal communication stuff. You can really tell if there's a connection with someone from their body language."

You shifted in your seat, "Do you think we have a connection?"

Travis breathed a laugh, "If I asked you if you were any good at ice-skating, would that answer your question?"

You felt butterflies in your stomach, a wide grin plastered over your face. You looked down at the table, trying to hide your expression.

"What are you doing around Christmas-time?"

______________________________________________________________

As I said before, I do like flirty Travis. And boy was he flirty. A girl can only dream, ey? Keep sending those requests in, I'm slowly making my way through the pile and I will continue to as long as people send them in! To be added to my Taglist, just let me know!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @killatravtramp @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 @s294749w

#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #original story #travis kelce fic #travis kelce #nfl fluff #travis kelce fluff #kelcemenow requests

[writtenjewels]

The Wrong Man

Jason sat on the bar stool, heart pounding. He should have just bought a six-pack and drank at home. But he couldn't think of any other way to get rid of the shit he was feeling. Jason took a sip of his drink and scanned the bar. The answer was here somewhere.

"Mind if I join you?" Jason glanced up at the voice. The man was dark-haired and giving Jason a friendly smile. Jason's eyes skimmed over the face and felt a stir of interest. It wasn't so long ago he would've squashed that feeling down, but not tonight.

"Nope, go right ahead." Jason waited for the man to sit. "I'm Jason."

"Peter," the other returned. "I know," he interrupted. "I've heard all the jokes." Would you like to hear a joke? Jason gritted his teeth at the memory and forced it away.

"I wasn't gonna say nothin'."

"All right." Peter gave him a smile. The guy was easy on the eyes, and had a decent body from what Jason could tell. "Can I buy you the next round?" Peter offered.

"Sure." It was going well so far. He gratefully reached for his drink when it was served. "I hear you thinkin'," he grunted. Peter raised an eyebrow. "Say what's on your mind," Jason clarified.

"So you like the blunt approach," Peter noted. "In that case: you look like this is your first time in one of these bars."

"Yep," Jason confirmed. He sipped his drink. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Fair enough. So what do you want to talk about?" When Jason didn't answer, Peter leaned in. "Or would you rather not talk at all?"

"Yeah." Jason's heart pounded harder in his chest. He leaned in, too, and pressed a kiss to Peter's lips. He could feel the other man kissing him back. It was nice, the feel of those lips on his.

Jason relaxed into it, exploring with his mouth. He tasted alcohol on his tongue. Fingers caressed his jaw, encouraging him to part his lips more. He did, wanting to lose himself in this. I'll hold your hand, but I won't cuddle you. I have to draw the line somewhere.

"Fuck!" he cursed, pulling back.

"Sorry." Peter backed off.

"You're good. It was a good 'fuck.'" He kissed the man again, hoping the lie would stick. Jason wasn't completely lying, after all. The kissing itself was fine; it wasn't even the fact that he was making out with a dude that made this wrong.

The only wrong thing about this was Jason was kissing the wrong man. Except it was stupid to feel that way. He and Salim barely knew each other, and they parted with a handshake. He was nothing to Salim, so Salim should be nothing to him. Jason wanted to get rid of these feelings. We all have our reasons. They don't have to be profound.

"Fuck!" Jason complained again.

"That didn't sound like a good 'fuck,'" Peter noted. "Maybe you should go and kiss whoever you were thinking of."

"It ain't like that," Jason protested, his face heating in a blush.

"Right." Peter got off the bar stool. "Good luck." And with that, he was gone.

Jason gulped down the rest of his drink. That guy was right: Jason couldn't beat his feelings through another man. But he couldn't take Peter's advice and kiss the man he wanted, either. So Jason was just stuck longing for Salim.

At least he could still get drunk.

#jason/salim #jason x salim #jalim #salim othman #jason kolchek #house of ashes #jason kolchek x salim othman

[astorytotellyourfriends]

ooooh this is so fun ok. can i be cheeky and say 69 for the meme 😜

yes, yes u can (sorry @deliriumsdelight7 i'm still gonna post your ask bc the gif is A+)

so my 69th song is fingers crossed by lauren spencer-smith and... well. it's definitely got more chrissy/jason vibes than hellcheer with lyrics like...

Now I remember when you'd call me late at night I gave you my hours and advice just tryna fix you And all your daddy issues But now I don't even miss you anymore

so we're gonna go the chrissy and jason just broke up and she meets eddie route, okay? okay.

Chrissy grimaces down at her phone as she walks down the sidewalk at a brisk pace; she hates that Jason still pops up in her explore page on Instagram even though she unfollowed him six months ago after they broke up. Why can't the algorithm understand that?

Just as she swipes up to close the app entirely, she runs headfirst into someone. Her phone falls out of her hand and clatters on the ground, but Chrissy's half a beat behind whoever she ran into and they snatch it off the sidewalk first.

"Sorry about that," he says, offering Chrissy an apologetic smile as he holds her phone out for her to take. She pauses upon seeing his face, squinting a little as her memory clicks into place seemingly at the same time his does.

"Eddie?"

"Chrissy," he says with a sound that's halfway between a laugh and a rush of breath. "Wow, I didn't..." Eddie's eyes trail over her briefly before they snap back to her face and a light blush falls across his cheeks as he clears his throat. "A-Are you visiting, or...?"

"O-Oh, no," Chrissy shakes her head, "no, I've lived in Chicago for... a while now." She laughs a little. "About six months, actually."

"Oh, well," Eddie does a little flourish with his hands, "welcome to the windy city... officially."

Chrissy breaks into a wide grin. "Thank you."

They stare at each other for a few seconds, both of them hardly noticing anything else around them. Eddie's the first to make noise, clearing his throat again as he wiggles Chrissy's phone, reminding her that he's still holding it.

"Oh," she laughs again, her face turning pink now, "thanks. Again."

"No problem," he answers, still smiling at her. "Sorry again for running into you."

"It's okay," Chrissy says as her smile widens. "I'm glad you did."

"Me too."

Chrissy tucks her phone into her pocket, all thoughts of Jason and his stupid Instagram having vanished from her mind. Eddie's looking at her like he can't quite believe his eyes, and if she's being honest with herself, she feels the same way.

"Do you want to, umm," Chrissy tucks her hair behind her ear as she lets out a slightly nervous laugh, "maybe get a coffee?"

Eddie's eyes widen. "Uhh, yeah. Yeah! That'd be--" He presses his lips together and pauses for a moment as he nods his head. "Cool, yeah. Let's do it."

Chrissy's heart flutters in her chest as Eddie spins on his heel and directs her to lead the way, falling into step beside her quickly and easily. Five minutes with Eddie has already erased the last six months without Jason, and Chrissy's eager to see what the rest of the afternoon brings.

#hellcheer #eddissy #chrissy x eddie #answered #cunninghamchrissie #this def got away from both me and the song itself #but OH WELL it's cute

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 2 Finding Out (Family/Friends)

Prev 

AO3

@maribat-bdbwm

“Mari!” Adrien yells, running past Batman to sweep her up in a hug. Marinette’s face instantly heats up, but she buries herself into the hug. After all, it’s not every day she faces a supervillain determined to kill her with a dangerous weapon...without her suit, anyway.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Marinette reassures him, relishing in the comfort. A cleared throat makes her jump back and look at Batman who, despite clearing his throat and cutting off the most amazing hug ever, has no emotions on his face. Whatsoever. Cause that’s not intimidating or anything.

“The police will need your statement, Miss Dupain Cheng.” Batman says. Marinette nods, squeaking when Adrien reaches down and entwines his fingers with hers. Following Batman’s directions to the awaiting police, Marinette feels nerves flood her systerm as she sees the sheer number of officers on the other side of the door. Sucking in a deep breath, she feels Adrien squeeze her hand. Shooting him a thankful smile, Marinette uses her unattached hand to open the door and step out into the mess of personnel. A man with a mustache and square glasses steps forward immediately, his hand extended.

“Hello Miss Dupain Cheng. I’m Commissioner Jim Gordon. We were in communication with Batman while he was inside so we heard some of what happened. Would you be comfortable telling us what happened? We can get you checked over by paramedics first, if you want.” Commissioner Gordon says.

“Oh, no, no. I’m fine. I don’t-” She starts to say, but a gruff voice cuts her off.

“She should be examined immediately, Gordon. She may have inhaled smoke from the smoke bombs due to proximity. She also could have burns to her face or ears from Joker’s gun. He shot it and then proceeded to prod her with it.” Batman says, the last part of his ‘report’ slightly more gruff than the first. Was he…..worried about her? Marinette shakes that thought off almost immediately. Why would Batman be worried about her? Wait, was he really going to make her see the paramedics when all she wanted to do was talk to the officers so she could get back to the trip?

“I assure you, Monsieur Batman, Monsieur Gordon, I don’t need to see the paramedics. I’m a little shaky, but that’s all. I mean, I was held at gunpoint. I think shaky is appropriate, non?” Marinette asks, flashing the two a bright smile. Gordon raises an eyebrow and glances at Batman who shakes his head stiffly.

“She gets examined.” He says, leaving no room for questions as he pulls his grappling hook (?!?!) out and retreats to the rooftop.

“You heard the man. We can talk as you’re examined, if you’d prefer. I’m sure you just want to put this whole business behind you.” Commissioner Gordon says kindly. Marinette sighs in relief and nods, smiling again at the man. Hopefully this would be taken care of quickly. --- Bruce Wayne was slightly panicking, though he would never admit it. When reports of the Joker being spotted at the Gotham City Museum of Modern Art first rolled in, he assumed his biggest challenge would be keeping Jason from murdering the clown. He did not expect to see a small girl being held at gunpoint. A girl who looked like a strange mix between his mother, and someone else. But he couldn’t place his- of course. Memories flood his mind as he thinks back to the woman who was so clearly related to the small girl. Bridgette Le. A woman that he, at one time, thought he would be able to spend the rest of his life with. Until she left Gotham and cut off all contact between the two. Oh god. She wouldn’t….would she? --- “I don’t understand why that older paramedic looked like she’d seen a ghost.” Marinette says with a pout as she continues working on the embroidery for a jacket for Jagged. Design never sleeps.

“What d’ya mean?” Adrien asks from his nest of blankets on her bed. Marinette tries to focus on keeping her blush down. Apparently, the attack at the museum had scared Adrien more than her, though she imagined he was scared on her behalf. But she couldn’t quite understand why...nevertheless, he had become attached at her hip and hadn’t left her side since they got back to the hotel. Even though all she really wanted was a little alone time to talk to Tikki. Especially about the chance of the Miraculous Cure working here. Maybe if she was in the battle…

“Didn’t you notice? He was fine til he looked into my eyes and then he got super pale. He looked like he was going to say something, but Monsieur Gordon stopped him before he could.” Marinette recounts, remembering the way the paramedic had to switch out since his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“I didn’t notice that. That’s weird. Anything else happen like that today?” Adrien asks, finally sitting up and giving her his full attention. Marinette pauses her stitching and purses her lips as she runs the days events back through her head. The paramedic. Batman. Joker. Arriving late to the museum. The cab ride. Being left at the hotel. Coffee-

“Well,” Marinette starts, furrowing her eyebrows as she tries to rationalize the man’s actions in addition to the actions of the paramedic. But something wasn’t adding up. “There was my cab ride to the museum.”

“What happened? Was someone creepy? I can fight them for you!” Adrien offers, a little too cheery. Marinette freezes as she studies his face, searching for something. Adrien had been off all day. More protective than he’d been in awhile. And the few times Lila had spoken, he had scowled at her instead of ignored her. Was he finally coming around to the idea that the high road would not work with Lila? Pushing those thoughts off for another time, Marinette shakes her head.

“No, no. Nothing like that. But as I was leaving, he called me Miss Wayne.” Marinette admits, not expecting Adrien’s uncontrollable laughter.

“He, you, oh my god!” He laughs, clutching his sides. Marinette’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as she sets the jacket down on the desk.

“What?” She asks, completely and totally frustrated with the situation. Adrien laughs for another minute before calming down, wiping tears from his eyes and shooting her a blinding smile. Not his model smile. An actual smile that warms her heart and her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Mari. It’s just, I think he was referring to the fact that you look like the typical kid Bruce Wayne adopts.” Adrien says and Marinette’s blood freezes.

“Did you say Bruce Wayne?” Marinette asks and Adrien nods, his previous mirth wiped from his face.

“Yeah, Mari, are you okay?” He asks. Marinette nods, then shakes her head, then groans and throws up her arms in frustration.

“I don’t know! I just- you remember how I told you I’m adopted?” She asks. Adrien nods, then stops. A look of mixed terror and awe flooding his face.

“Oh god, Mari. You never told me the name. Your birth father-”

“His name is Bruce Wayne. But there’s gotta be hundreds if not thousands of Bruce Waynes in the US right?” Marinette asks, even as her hope in that idea dwindles.

“The US? He’s confirmed from the US?” Adrien asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Yes. Adrien, what are you doing?” She asks, suddenly worried as she jumps onto the bed next to him, desperately trying to see his phone.

“I’m googling Bruce Wayne and Bridgette Le as a combined search. Wayne is one of the most prominent figures in Gotham, all of his previous relationships have photographic evidence. Except for whoever the mother of his youngest is. But that’s probably because he wasn’t in the country at that time.” Adrien says, typing away furiously on his phone. Marinette’s eyebrow quirks up in amusement.

“Since when were you a master researcher?” She asks with a grin.

“Since one of my best friends found out she’s adopted and it could be the man who hosts the only palatable high society parties. Seriously. And they’d be much better if you were there and-holy shit. Your bio mom looks just like you!” Adrien exclaims, turning the phone to her. Marinette inhales deeply and thanks whatever power there is that she’s not in Paris right now. The emotions running over her at an indescribable speed...not all of them are positive. And they’re all overwhelming as she looks at a picture that very clearly shows her bio mom with Bruce Wayne. As in the Gotham Bruce Wayne. Not a different unknown Bruce Wayne across the country somewhere. Nope. A man who is apparently prominent enough that Monsieur Agreste makes his son go to the man’s parties.

“I don’t suppose she just had a type for men named Bruce Wayne?” Marinette says weakly. This was not what she expected. --- This was exactly what he expected. Looking at the birth records for one Marinette Le, where he’s noted as the father. Though why he wasn’t notified before the girl’s custody was signed over to Sabine Cheng, he’ll never understand. His jaw clenches as he continues reading, eyes scanning over Bridgette’s death certificate before glancing back at Marinette’s birth certificate. A daughter. He had a daughter. Another child that he would never be able to hold when they were small. Another child that grew up without him. Another child that he didn’t meet until they were already a person. Someone with their own experiences individual from his own, someone that may not even know he had found them. And that he wanted nothing more than to get to know someone who was brave enough to stand between the Joker and her friends. Someone who was determined not to let what should have been the most traumatic experience in her life be a set back. He had a daughter. And he wanted to meet her.

***

Next

Note, my headcannon is that the paramedic that panicked did so because he was one of the first responders the night that the Waynes were murdered. And while she looks a lot like her birth mom, Marinette also definitely has Martha Wayne’s eyes and the paramedic could NOT deal. Also, let me know if you want tagged!

Tag List: @jjmjjktth

#maribat bruce wayne #maribat #maribat bio dad bruce #maribat bio dad! bruce wayne month 2021 #mbdbwm2021 #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #day two family/friends

[fiftyshadesgrl]

I ALMOST DO PART 9

Part 8 here

Masterlist here

Taglist is open

Part 9

Fog, so much of it in my head. I tried to shake it from my head but I couldn't move. Something constricted my airway, I felt like I was choking, I tried to gasp for breath but all I could do was gag, I wanted to open my eyes but they seemed to be glued shut. I felt so heavy, I could feel the aching in my limbs but yet I couldn't move. Just this little bit of trying to will myself to get a grip on everything exhausted me. Another try to get some air through my mouth caused another gag and then it was gone. Some kind of miracle or something but I could breathe without that choking feeling. Now I felt like I could rest easy, I wanted to sleep again.

My eyes felt less heavy this time, the fog was barely there. A soft humming sound from beside me, someone was humming a song. A song I think I know, yes of course I do. To make you feel my love was the song being hummed, I loved that song it used to be a song that Jason used to sing to me all the time. My brain was finally functioning so I attempted to move my limbs. A jolt of joy and pain hit me as my fingers twitched. Okay, so I can move, now let's try to open our eyes.

It took more effort than my fingers but I did it. My eyes cracked open and the bright light made me shut them back down. Another try, opening them slightly again the light a little more bearable as they fluttered open and closed. Open, closed, open, closed, open. Everything was blurry, my eyes were trying to focus but my head hurt and I really just wanted to shut my them again. The humming was becoming more clear, someone with a deep voice was humming it on my left side.

I recognized that voice, I turned my head slowly to my left and whoever was sitting there was blurry. I squinted my eyes and tried to focus, shutting my eyes tight then opening them again I squinted once more. He was becoming more clear, he was sitting hunched over his elbows on his knees. His hands clasped together against his mouth as he stared at the floor. I smiled slightly as finally I knew who it was, "jason." I whispered.

His head shot up, he had stopped humming. He jumped up coming close to me. I felt his hand rubbing my hair, "y/n? Baby did you say something?" He leaned his ear closer to my face, I could smell his cologne and the scent that could only be described as jason.

"Youre....here." I whispered again, it burned my throat which made me wince.

I heard him sniffle as he pressed his lips to my forehead, "of course I'm here baby. I'm not leaving you ever again."

I tried to lick my lips but my tongue was just as dry as my mouth. He must have understood because he was there with a cup and a straw holding it to my lips, "here sweetheart, just sip on it though." The small sip made me want more, I sucked the straw until he pulled it from me, "just small sips right now sweetheart, I'm sorry. I have to call the nurse."

He pushed a button or something behind my head and I heard a small digging sound, a few moments later a nurse came into the room. "Ms. Y/l/n, we are so happy to see you are awake. Especially this big guy here." She smiled as did I as jason blushed slightly. "How're you feeling?"

"I don't know." I croaked out making me wince once more.

"It's perfectly normal to be confused especially for you being out so long. Hows your pain?"

The moment she mentioned it it seemed to rear it's ugly head. Everything hurt, "I hurt." Was all I could manage to say. Jason held my hand to his lips kissing it every second or two.

She nodded, "I'm sure you do. We will get you some pain meds and your throat is sore I'm sure. That's normal as well, it's from the ventilator. Don't worry that will go away in a few days. Doctor Reed is going to be over the moon to know you are awake, he should be in to see you shortly." She adjusted my blanket over my legs and checked the bag of fluids hanging beside me. "I'll be back in just a moment with your pain meds." After she gave me the medicine through my IV she changed the bag of fluids, "Let me know if you two need anything else." Then she left.

Jason pulled his chair closer to the bed, he sat down never taking his eyes from me. "I'm so happy you're awake now."

"How....long?" I croaked again.

He sighed, "You've been out for nine days." The pain meds started to work their magic as I felt myself becoming numb again, my eyes started to get heavy again. "Go ahead and get some sleep baby. I'll be right here when you wake up." I smiled at his words, then let sleep take me.

Two days later

Waking up was so much easier now, but the pain wasn't letting up. I had to constantly be given pain meds which made me sleep that much more. I opened my eyes and saw jason slumped over in his chair his head laying on my bed, my hand in his. I was able to move more and more each day but I couldn't wait until I could move without it feeling as if my whole body was broken. I looked at the window to see that it was dark outside and raining. I turned back to Jason and ran my hand through his hair that had mostly fallen down from his messy bun.

He stirred immediately, his head lifted and his bloodshot eyes met. "You okay? You need a nurse?"

"No, I'm okay." My throat still hurt but not like it did so I was able to talk better. "You look exhausted. You need to get you some real rest."

"I'm okay." He yawned and stretched his long limbs, as his arms stretched over his head he growled low in his throat then slumped back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hands over his face, he looked like he was going to fall asleep any second.

"Jason, just go get you some rest. At least a few hours."

He shook his head, "I'm not leaving you. You can forget about that." He crossed his arms over his chest then crossed his ankles as he leaned back in his chair.

"Can't they bring you a bed or something in here then?"

"Not in ICU, once you're moved to a regular room they can." I frowned and he leaned forward, "I'm fine okay. Don't worry about me." He stood and walked to the window, he was lost in thought.

I could see his face in the reflection of the window, his eyes were unfocused his mind far away. "Whats wrong?" He stood unmoving, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared out the window. "Jason, you okay?"

"I thought I lost you." He whispered just barely enough to where I could hear him. "Hell, I almost did."

"But you didnt."

"If I hadn't have found you when I did..." He trailed off still not looking at me.

"Jason." I waited until he turned to look at me before I spoke again. "Will you come sit with me?" He nodded and quickly made his way to the chair beside the bed, his hand grasped mine as he always does. "I'm sorry."

His brow furrowed as he looked at me, "what? What in the world do you have to be sorry for?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Luke. I wanted to so bad in the bathroom when you came to check on me, but I knew if I did that Luke would..." I couldnt finish my sentence as tears rolled down my cheeks.

Jason's thumb wiped them away, "y/n, do not apologize for that asshole. There's no excuse for what he did and you don't have to apologize because of him. If anyone should apologizing it should be me. I should've known what was going on. I saw the look on your face and I knew something wasn't right. It wasn't until after you left I truly put two and two together."

I sniffed and wiped my nose on the back of my hand, "that's not the only thing I'm sorry for." He looked at me puzzled, "I'm sorry I left." He opened his mouth to say something but I held my finger up to let him know I wasn't finished. "Back then, I should have never left."

He shook his head, "that was my fault, I shouldn't have broke up with you. I thought i was doing what was best for you, you had such a bright future ahead of you."

"But that's the thing, after I left I was worse off than what I was here. I was on my own in a small apartment, barely making ends meet. I met Luke soon after I moved and it was all downhill from there. He was an alcoholic and he got violent when he drank, then he sobered up and has been sober a year. He was better, then at the garage he was stone cold sober and he still beat me. So obviously it wasn't the alcohol making him like that he just was. I never went to college and after I met Luke he made me quit my job." Anger replaced the sad look on Jason's face at the mention of Luke. "Where, where is luke?"

Jason took a deep breath as he grit his teeth, "nobody knows. The police ain't found him yet, he hasn't been back to your house in the city and he hasn't showed up around here. If he wants to live he better never let me find him."

My heart raced at the knowledge that Luke was still out there somewhere. He would be back, I knew it and felt it in my gut. He would never let this go. "Y/n." Jason's voice broke me away from my thoughts. "I made you a promise while they had you sedated, and I intend to keep it."

"What promise?" I asked as he took my hands and brushed his lips against my knuckles.

"Your father never told me to break up with you." My eyes widened at his words, "what he actually said was that you were going to make something of yourself in college, but that you decided to stay because you didn't want to be away from me." I tried to pull my hand from his but his hold got tighter, "please, let me explain. I thought I was doing the right thing for you. I didn't want you to resent being with me later on down the road. I didn't want you to have any regrets. I loved you more than anything and I loved you enough to let you go."

I saw the tears in his eyes as he wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand. "Letting you go was the hardest thing I have ever had to do and I'm sorry. I wanted nothing more than to keep you here, but I couldn't be selfish."

I laid my head back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything. "You made me believe that my dad was the reason for our breakup, but it was you. Why would you do that? I was so angry at him for so long, but it was you I should've been angry with."

He nodded, "you're right and I don't blame you if you're angry with me now and forever. I want to tell you I'm sorry for everything."

I took a shuddering breath that made my ribs scream in pain, "I am angry with you. I'm angry that it took you this long to tell me exactly how you felt. That it took this," I waved my hand around meaning the whole situation, "for you to tell me that you thought you were holding me back. Which was not the case, I chose to stay because I wanted to. I didn't need to go to a big college in a big city for me to be happy. I was happy here with you, you were my home. Where you were, that's where I wanted to be."

"I wanted the same thing. I had this wonderful life planned out for us. I was going to ask you to marry me, I imagined having kids with you. I wanted us to grow old together but then my insecurities got in the way and I pushed you away." His thumb rubbing small circles on the back of my hand. "I still love you, I hope you know that. That I never stopped loving you."

My eyes locked on his, a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth at my expression. "Jason."

"I don't expect you to say anything back. I promised you that when you woke up I would tell you and make sure that you knew that I love you and I always have and always will."

@missamberv @an-unhealthy-obsession @vicmc624 @tftumblin @justanotherwinchester @jesseswartzwelder @holylulusworld @fangirl199812 @emerloveskate @visualranch

#jason momoa #jasonmomoa #jason momoa smut

[black-dragon1998]

Eating at POP’s

Summary: (Y/N) and Cheryl bond go to pop’s and everybody fawns over them.

autor’s note: It isn’t much, just a bunch of fluff. Just wanted to let you guy’s know i’m not abandoning this story event though it has been ages since i posted for it.

P.S.: It is 1AM at the time of writing this so don’t kill me if their are any mistakes in it.

part 1- part 2- part 3

Over the weekend you continue your research about the town. You found out that they had a local bike gang, the ‘South Side Serpents’. Apparently, even small towns like this have their gangs, you were curious if they were the same as the gangs in the city. your research however was interrupted when Saturday afternoon Cheryl Blossom stood at your doorstep. While you were repairing her car you opted on driving her to and from school as well as practice and you had come at a point where she let her guard down when the two of you were alone, but she had never come over without a reason.

She stood at your doorstep in what you think were comfy clothes. You were in a similar state as you hadn’t taken much effort in searching for clothes that morning. Opting for sweatpants and nothing but your sports bra.

“Cheryl? What are you doing here?” your brows scrunched together in confusion. Cheryl couldn’t help but think it was cute. A word that she didn’t think she would ever use to describe someone like you. Even the rough ways you dealt with certain things or people she thought was cute.

“well, you said you would fix my car and looking as I don’t have your number…” Cheryl trailed off. Your chuckle made her look back up at you.

“afraid I would rack your car darling.” The smirk on your face and the nickname made Cheryl blush. It took her a moment to take to pick herself together but was soon back to her usual banter.

“Can’t be careful enough.” She matched your smirk now with her own as you let her in the garage.

  That is how you spend the next two weeks after school and in the weekend working on Cheryl’s car, with her watching you from the couch that was placed in the garage/ workplace. The first time she saw all of the cars and high-tech equipment her jaw dropped. She knew you were rich, but this was even much for her. Imagen her surprise the first time she heard FRIDAY. First, she freaked out and demanded to know if someone else was there. You told her one no there wasn’t anybody else and second that FRYDAY was an IA that you had built together with your uncle after her precious one died.

 Over the hours that she watched you both of you started to relax and now she didn’t even look up when FRIDAY spoke, she even started asking them questions.

“miss I like to inform you that a vehicle from the compound is arriving later today,” FRIDAY informed. She didn’t give too much information because Cheryl was there but not much was needed.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” You thank the AI. You were able to work for a couple more minutes before a body draped itself over your back while being bend forward over the car. Cheryl relaxing was becoming touchy and craving cuddles.

“(Y/N)?” Cheryl asked her voice muffled by being buried in your hoody. The whininess in her voice made you chuckle. She could be so cute when nobody was around to judge her.

“yes, Red?” you look over your shoulder at her and see her pouting.

“I’m hungry.” The way she said it made clear you had to do something about it. You turn around, making her fall into your chest. She immediately pulls away and starts blushing heavily.

“well hum. I can make something or I could drive us to pops. My treat.” You propose shyly. Cheryl looked up and again couldn’t help but think how cute you looked.

“How trustworthy is your cooking?” she asks you with a raised eyebrow. Not really knowing if she trusted you in the kitchen. And chuckling at your reaction.

“Haven’t burned down the kitchen jet, but it would probably be safer if we went out.” You admit scratching the back of your neck. Wanda had tried to teach you how to cook and you weren’t bad but like your mom, it didn’t really interest you and you sometimes forgot you had left something on the fire. So at the compound, Wanda took the role of big sister seriously and forbade you from using the kitchen and always made something from you.

To your surprise, Cheryl agreed to go with you on your bike, something that was short of shocking. When she put on one of your helmets and leather jackets you had to take a minute. You thought she look hot before but that had nothing on her now. She noticed you staring and turned around with one hand on her hip.

“See something you like sugar.” She asked in a flirty tone and you had to shake your head a little to get the daze out and could only nod. Yes, you were liking what you saw.

“you look good in leather.” Was the only thing you could say in response. Instead of saying anything Cheryl smiled and straddled the bike. This woman was going to the death of you.

 A motorcycle-riding up the parking of with 2 people on it did raze a couple of heads. Even more when started recognizing Cheryl as she took off her helmet. Cheryl however didn’t seem to notice or care so you didn’t make a big deal out of it either. It wasn’t going to change the way you were going to treat her, it never did.

Walking out in front of her you held the door open for her and it made her laugh but she accepted it.

“what a gentlewoman.” She teased with a smile.

“well, I do aim to please and saw this hot girl in the parking lot and had to get her attention.” You fired back, with a smirk. She giggled slapping your shoulder before walking in. not ready to let it go you continued.

“you think she would be interested?” you wiggle your eyebrows at her.

  Betty who was sitting at one of the booths in POP’s, together with Veronica, Archie and Jugghead looked up when she heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching. Thinking one of the Serpents want to kick up some trouble.

“who’s that?” she askes, not recognizing the drive. Her friend's lookup.

“don’t recognize the bike. It is not someone from the Serpents.” Jugghead comments. Something familiar does spike when they see the driver park the bike, not yet realising it's you. At school, you only wear baggy clothes so they had never seen you like this.

“I don’t know who they are but they look good.” Veronica was openly gawking at the muscles that were on display through your leather jacket and skinny jeans. Archie on his turn was checking out the bike under you.

Recognizing your companion wasn’t that hard, her red hair came flowing from underneath the helmet and gave away their identity.

“well, whoever they are they have convinced Cheryl Blossom to ride on a bike with them.” Jugghead didn’t even try to be as amazed as his friends were, even though he was curious who the driver was.

All four being blown away when you took off your helmet and setting it on your lap while smiling at Cheryl who looked at you with a mock glare.

  “don’t have to be so fuzzy Red, you look good either way.” Your smooth words made her heart flutter while heat streamed to her face. Instead of responding she turned and marched toward the door. Although before she could even open it you already holding it open for her. Giving you a small smile she walked in and you followed. Leading Cheryl to one of the booths in the back of the shop. You tell her to relax as you take her order and walked toward the counter.

Sitting down Cheryl had the time to go over all the emotions she was feeling. You made her feel warm and secure. She only ever felled like that with Jason. Over the weekends she spends with you, you insisted you wanted to get to know the ‘real’ Cheryl as you called it and against her better judgment she caved, so she let the bitch side of her drop.

The other thing you did was take care of her, getting her food was only one of the small things you did and you never asked for anything in return. You also checked on her emotionally, telling her it was okay to be sad and mad over Jason’s death. With you, she was allowed to grieve, at school, she always had to keep up her perfect persona and her parents were sharks waiting for her to mess up to break her down some more. To say her feeling for you were growing was an understatement, the only she couldn’t say was where they were growing toward.

So Cheryl couldn’t help but smile when she saw you walking toward her with two food stray in hand.

Part 5

#riverdale #Avengers #avengers crosover #cheryl blossom x reader #cheryl x reader #cheryl blossom imagine #avengers x reader #riverdale x reader #riverdale imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #veronica lodge #betty cooper #archie andrews #jughead jones #FXF #Female reader #female x female

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!

A/N: I think The next post will be the last one for this series!

“Did you...have fun tonight?” The way Dick haltingly asks causes laughter to bubble out of your mouth

“I can say that was nothing like any family dinner I’ve ever seen-“

And if that isn’t the truth, for one - even though you’ve heard of all of Bruce Wayne’s adopted children, you didn’t think there would be so many.

Dick’s the oldest, well officially anyway. Barbara Gordon, as in Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, was at dinner too. Apparently she and Dick had a brief stint where they dated. You’re guessing it was before Dick realized he likes boys - or maybe he likes both? You’ve never expressly asked him about using sexuality.

He’s got three little brothers, the youngest and the second oldest seem to have the highest predisposition towards violence, mostly to each other. And then the second youngest, Tim, he seems to be barely held together, mostly through caffeine and anxiety.

Cassandra from class was there too, as well as Stephanie, which was nice to see. They ducked out halfway through, which should have been your queue to duck out too.

Unfortunately you didn’t, which resulted in a rather poorly placed tomato soup stain at the edge of your dress’s hem.

“I like your brothers though” you say with a smile. You did like his brothers. The youngest, Damian, stared at you for seven very long minutes, before saying-

“How do you feel about animals?” When you told him you loved them he seemed pleased. Also, as a college student, you vibe with Tim. Though you do think someone should cut him off and have him switch to herbal tea. Jason seems cool enough, he just looked at you for a second before giving Dick a wolffish grin.

“Alfred was nice too, and it was fun seeing your- uh...Bruce again” You almost called Bruce his Dad. Bruce is nice, but he’s still a bigot. It was nice meeting Alfred, who showed you many pictures of a nine year old Dick Grayson, most of which were him doing acrobatics around the house. Honestly you thought it was adorable, but you put an end to it since Dick was blushing so fiercely that you thought he might combust.

It really was a lot of fun.

You shiver, the cold night air brushing against your bare arms. You’re standing in front of your building, saying your final goodbyes until you scamper off to your apartment, getting ready for another week of classes.

“Here, take my jacket-“ He’s already tugging it off. Before you can protest, it’s settled over your shoulders. The effect is almost instant, tendrils of warmth seeping into your shoulders and upper body.

It smells like him, you think.

Like- like his expensive cologne, with notes of amber and moss- but also like soap, like clean laundry, and something else, something sweet.

“Cotton Candy” You murmur to yourself. He probably eats it by the gallon sized bag , you think with a giggle.

“T-thank you-“ your eyes trail from the sleeve of his suit jacket to Dick, who’s got a pink tint fanning across his face, blue eyes flicking from the ground to your eyes.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight, and being so kind and considerate and lovely” and then Dick does something completely unexpected, he leans in closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your heart leaps in your chest, his sickly sweet Cotten candy scent floods your senses.

You would just have to tilt you head up slightly to catch his lips in yours. He smells so sweet, it almost makes you dizzy. It’s like being drunk, you think.

You want to smell him more.

“Thank you for being so accepting.” His words are like a bucket of cold water being dumped over your head. You feel like you’ve sobered right up.

“Of course, we’re friends aren’t we?” You offer Dick a smile, but you know it’s probably strained. You were so caught up in the moment, you forget he’s already in love with someone.

All of his feelings, all of his kisses, they’re reserved for Nightwing.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow” You call out, before walking into your building, feeling Dick’s lingering

So you like Dick.

F*ck.

You’re on the balcony of your apartment, nursing a glass of hot tea in the late night- or would it be early hours of the morning? You can make out the sky beginning to lighten into a lighter blue. Great so you stayed up all night thinking about your feelings.

Your body is going to love you for this.

How did this even happen? Were you just so focused on not getting a crush on either of his sisters that you didn’t see this coming. Ugh why dick of all people? Yeah, sure he’s got those sparkly eyes, and that permanent rosy blush, not to mention that lopsided grin-

Okay so you know why you’re falling in love with him. But there’s no point in nursing these blooming feelings not when-

“Hey do you have any sugar?” The masked crusader asks from beside you. That dazzling smile that makes people everywhere swoon aimed at you.

No point in nursing feelings for Dick, when the object of his affections is standing next to you, drinking earl grey out of your pink “Namaste in bed” mug.

“Or not- no big deal, I love my hot leaf juice with or without sugar.” He adds hastily, taking a loud sip as if to show you how much he’s enjoying your hospitality. You must have let your annoyance get to your face. You sigh, it’s not his fault that Dick loves him.

You’re the outsider here.

“So what are you doing out so late?” You ask, just wanting to make some small talk. But Nightwing lights up like you just offered him a million dollars. He’s so friendly it’s almost annoying, not unlike another certain dark haired golden boy you know.

“I’m always up, fighting crime, patrolling the streets-“ you never realized but being a vigilante is kind of a lot of work huh? You wonder if Nightwing has a day job, he looks so young though- maybe he’s still in school.

“The real questions is why are you still up?” His question is punctuated with a slurp of his tea.

“Just thinking I guess” you shrug, taking a sip of your own tea. You’re not about to tell Nightwing you realized you have feelings for his boyfriend.

“Thinking about the person you love?” It feels like you were just struck by an arrow. Nightwing’s mouth stretches. “No way, I was right?” You can almost picture the sparkle in his eyes behind his domino mask. You wonder what color eyes Nightwing has.

Probably a boring brown.

“Well who’s the lucky individual?” Noting your hesitance, Dick starts to get a little nervous. It hurts a little to think you don’t return his feelings. But there’s something about the shy look on your face, the way your eyes avert to your cup of tea, that’s just hopelessly adorable. What he wouldn’t give to have you look at him that way.

And then, a terrifying thought occurs to Dick.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with Bruce Wayne?” He’s got absolutely no chance if you’re into older men. No unless you’re willing to wait ten years or so.

Then the most amazing thing happens- your mouth opens and laughter spills out. He’s heard you laugh, but never like this. So loud, and almost desperate.

And then, you do something else he’s never seen before. Somewhere along the way those loud laughs transformed into equally loud sobs. Your mouth pinched tight as tears spill from the corners of your eyes.

A hand curls over your eyes in an attempt to cover your face. This is mortifying, you’re basically crying in front of your romantic rival, completely vulnerable.

You’re about to mutter out an excuse, how you’re not usually like this, that you must be close to your period or something. When you feel a pair of arms wrap around your shoulder, your face pressed against Nightwing’s chest.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay” he murmurs reassuringly, his glove covered hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. And even though you were on the edge of recompsure, you’re thrust back into despair. Your sobs leaving you almost breathless as Nightwing continues to hold you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help” Dick whispers. Whatever it is, it must be serious. He’s never seen you cry, not when you were a hostage in that bank robbery, or held at gun point at that restaurant, not even when Damian was basically integrating you all night.

“I love someone, who’s never going to love me back” you manage between sobs, and Nightwing only shushes you. His hand traveling to your hair. Cradling your head against his chest.

He smells so good, like amber and moss, and something sickeningly sweet- like cotton candy.

He smells like Dick.

And that seems to soothe you a bit, along with Nightwing’s gentle warmth.

“Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine, I promise”

“Man, and I thought things were going really well between you guys” Stephanie says, her hand threading through her golden curls, head tilting back so it rests against the back of his couch.

“Yeah, me too” Dick admits with a sigh, he’s sitting with his knees propped up on the floor, his back against the wall.

Cassandra doesn’t say anything, her eyes are trained on the coffee table, their masks collectively strewn across it.

“So what are you going to do?” Stephanie asks, and Dick sighs again.

“What can I do honestly, they love someone else” he shrugs, he plays it off like it’s not a big deal. But the thought of your with someone else... it makes his stomach hurt.

“Just because she loves someone else right now...doesn’t mean she will forever” Those are the first words Cass has uttered all night, and Dick and Stephanie are both looking at her with wide eyes.

Stephanie’s already hyping him up, saying there’s no way their Dick’s going to lose to some no-face-extra, like your love is some sort of competition to be won.

And Cassandra’s only encouraging her, with energetic nods and the occasional ‘exactly’

But all Dick can think about is the way you felt in his arms, and how small you seemed as sobs wracked through your entire body. How deep your sadness felt, like he might be sucked in any moment too, tears falling from beneath his domino mask.

He hates whoever it is that made you feel that way. If it was him- if you loved him instead, he’d make sure you were never sad, he’d give you everything he was and everything he had if it meant you might smile for him.

He doesn’t want to change your mind, your feelings don’t work like that. All he knows is that he loves you- and what you need right now, is a friend. Someone who-

“Just wants to see them happy” Dick mumbles.

Taglist: @adenspolaroids @libraryoffandomsuniverse @jeneeangella @chyume @masked-mushroom

#batman imagine #dc comics imagine #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagines #dick Grayson #dick grayson headcanon #bruce wayne imagine #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #damian wayne imagine #dc comics #bruce wayne x reader #batman imagines #superhero--imagines

[bechloeislegit]

My Spy - Chapter 1

Prompt from Tumblr User perfectlyimperfectpitch: The request was for a BeChloe AU with Spy!Chloe.

A/N: The full prompt will be noted at the end of the final chapter of the story; the total number of chapters is undetermined as of this writing (July 1, 2021).

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Beca stirred awake when the bed was jostled, indicating Chloe was getting up. However, she didn't move to sit up until she heard the sounds of Chloe moving about the room. She looked at the clock and then over her shoulder at her girlfriend, who was quietly getting dressed.

"Babe, it's three in the morning," Beca said, her voice groggy from having just woken up. "Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, baby," Chloe said, looking over at Beca. "It's my mom. She texted and said she needed me to come over."

"At three in the morning?" Beca said, turning over and sitting up. "It couldn't wait until later?"

"I'm afraid not," Chloe said. "You know how it is when my mom says she needs me. I have to go."

"I know," Beca said, sighing and running a hand through her hair.

And, Beca did know. Chloe's mom was a widow and relied on Chloe to help her with several things her husband used to handle.

Mrs. Beale would call or text at all times of the day or night, sending Chloe in a panic and rushing off, sometimes in the middle of their date. And oftentimes leaving Beca to find her own way back to campus.

From the start, Beca had just accepted it and never said anything to Chloe about how it made her feel.

"You know I hate you going out alone so early," Beca said.

"Aw, you really do care about me," Chloe said, smiling as she walked over to the bed. She leaned down to kiss Beca. "I promise to come back as soon as I'm able, okay?"

"Okay," Beca said, looking forlorn as she flopped back on the bed. "I'll just be lying here, all alone, missing you."

Chloe climbed onto the bed and straddled Beca's hips, settling back on Beca's thighs.

"I love you, you know?" Chloe said, looking down at Beca.

"I know," Beca said, looking up into Chloe's eyes. "I love you, too."

Chloe grabbed Beca's shirt in her hands and pulled her up into a deep, passionate kiss.

"I'd better go," Chloe whispered against Beca's lips as she pulled back from the kiss.

"Be careful," Beca whispered before kissing Chloe one last time.

~~ My Spy ~~

It was about eight when Beca was startled out of her sleep by Stacie yelling for her.

"Beca! Chloe!" Stacie yelled as she ran into their room. "Wake up!"

"What the Hell, Stacie?!"

"Get up," Stacie said excitedly.

Seeing Beca alone in the bed, Stacie looked around. "Where's Chloe?"

"She had to go to her mom's earlier," Beca said, stretching before sitting up. "What's going on?"

"Something's happening on campus," Stacie said. "We have to check it out!"

"What's happening?"

"We don't know exactly," Stacie said. "But, a bunch of students and some professors are being arrested."

"Arrested?!" Beca yelled. "Why?"

"I don't know," Stacie said. "But rumors are going around that they are part of a big drug ring operating here."

"Here?" Beca asked. "Here, as in Barden?"

"Yes!" Stacie said. "Now throw something on that you wouldn't mind being seen wearing outside the house; we have to meet the girls on the quad."

Beca jumped up and pulled on a clean shirt and jeans. Next, she had to search under her bed for some shoes to put on.

Once Beca was fully dressed, she followed Stacie out of her room, down the stairs, and out the front door of the Bellas house. She continued to follow behind Stacie until they found the rest of the Bellas on the quad.

"What's happening?" Beca asked Jessica as she stopped next to her.

Jessica just pointed to where the Bellas were looking. They all stood in shock as they watched several of Barden University's professors and students being led out of the English Building; some were wearing handcuffs and were being placed in police cars. Several had their arms free and were being put into the back of a police van.

Beca's eyes widened in shock when one of the students broke free, and Chloe suddenly came out of nowhere to chase him down. She caught up to him and tackled him, taking them both to the ground. The guy came up swinging and throwing wild punches.

Chloe fought back, throwing and blocking punches with a variety of karate moves. She finally got the upper hand with a perfectly executed roundhouse kick to the side of the guy's head, knocking him to the ground. Chloe jumped on him and put her knee in his back; she grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm behind his back.

"What is Chloe doing here?" Beca thought. "And where did she learn how to fight like that?"

"Here you go, Chloe," a man said, tossing handcuffs at the redhead.

"Thanks, Jason," Chloe said as she caught the handcuffs one-handed and snapped them on the man's wrist. She and Jason got the man on his feet.

"Good job, Chloe," Jason said as he dragged the shackled man over to a police van.

Beca stood there, teary-eyed and mouth agape. Chloe finally noticed the Bellas watching every move she was making. Her heart fell into her stomach when she saw Beca staring at her with tears in her eyes.

"Becs, I-"

"Beale, get over here!" a voice yelled out.

"Coming, sir," Chloe called back. She walked over to Beca, saying, "Beca, I'll explain everything later, I swear, okay?"

Unable to form words, Beca swallowed and nodded at Chloe. She was surprised to feel a tear roll down her cheek.

Chloe nodded as well, hesitating slightly before turning and rushing off towards the man who had called out to her.

"What the hell was that?" Stacie asked.

"And why was Chloe in the middle of it?" Jessica asked.

"It appears our Co-captain has been lying to us about who or what she really is," Fat Amy said. "Beca, what do you know about that?"

"I don't know anything about that," Beca said, wiping her eyes. "I'm as shocked as you are. I had no idea she was anything more than just a student."

Beca's shoulders dropped, and she looked down at the ground, not wanting to see the pity she was sure in everyone's eyes.

"Are you okay, Beca?" CR asked.

"I, um," Beca stammered, looking up at CR. "I, uh, I don't know. I'm so confused right now."

Beca's eyes dropped back down to the ground, her mind racing with thoughts of Chloe.

The first time they met.

How she fumbled through asking Chloe out.

Their first date.

Their first time having sex together. She blushed as she thought about the many nights they've shared. Then her head suddenly shot up as another thought came to her.

"Was Chloe really going to see her mom all those times she was rushing off in the middle of the night? Or was she working on this? Whatever this is."

Beca couldn't turn her thoughts off. She recalled how they had only recently shared "I love yous." Beca had no reason to believe Chloe's I love you wasn't sincere; at least she didn't know until now.

Still thinking of Chloe, Beca stared across the quad, her eyes immediately picking out Chloe with an ease born of familiarity. Chloe must have sensed Beca looking at her because her eyes were suddenly staring back at Beca.

Chloe's attention was pulled away; Beca furrowed her brows as she continued to stare at Chloe.

"Did Chloe really love her, or did she only say it back because Beca said I love you to her first? Was any of it real for Chloe? "

"Beca?" Ashley said, pulling Beca out of her thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Isn't that your dad?" Ashley asked, pointing at a lone man being led out of the building in handcuffs.

Beca's mouth dropped open in surprise again.

"Oh, my God," Beca exclaimed. "Does this mean my dad was involved in the drug ring, too?"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Beca," Stacie said. "Maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and there's a reasonable explanation."

"They must have something on him if they arrested him," Beca said. "And I still can't wrap my head around Chloe being somehow involved in all this? Whatever this is."

"Let's not jump to any conclusions yet, Beca," Aubrey said. "Why don't you wait until you and Chloe talk? And see what Chloe has to say about all this."

"Aubrey, you've known Chloe longer than we have," CR said to Aubrey. "We thought you two were best friends. So why didn't you know she wasn't who she appeared to be?"

"Despite what you all believe, we aren't really that close," Aubrey said defensively. "I think everyone thought we were best friends because we've been in the Bellas together for the entire time I've known her. But, as Beca said before, I'm as shocked about this as you all are. I also thought she was just another student."

"We should still hold our judgment until Beca and Chloe talk," CR said.

"What could Chloe possibly say that would make any of this okay?" Ashley asked.

"She's obviously some kind of undercover cop or agent," Jessica said. "Even if she didn't want to tell us who she really is, she should have told Beca."

"It seems as if Chloe was only with Beca because of her dad's involvement in all this," Fat Amy said. "Seems like a pretty shitty thing to do, don't you think?"

Beca frowned as she glared at Fat Amy. "That's a pretty shitty thing to say, Amy. Don't you think?"

Fat Amy threw up her hands, saying, "Sorry, Beca. But when a cop, or whoever, is undercover, they use any means necessary to get the criminals. That includes using people close to anyone they suspect may be involved, like your father."

"Fat Amy's right," Lily said loud enough for them all to hear. "Plus, if Chloe had been undercover, she wouldn't have been allowed to tell Beca anything for fear of her cover being blown."

Beca looked up to find Chloe looking at her again. Tears came to Beca's eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself. She felt like she was going to be sick. Beca quickly looked away from Chloe.

"That's enough for now," Stacie said, seeing how uncomfortable Beca was becoming. "CR is right. We should wait and see what Chloe has to say. And don't worry, Beca, we're here for you; we have your back."

"Okay," Beca said, looking around at the girls. "Do you think I should find out where they've taken my dad and go talk to him? See what he has to say about all this."

"That might not be a bad idea," Aubrey said.

"I still think you should talk to Chloe first," Stacie said.

"Why?" Beca asked.

"Your dad may not be very forthcoming if you confront him," Stacie explained. "And you shouldn't talk to him without knowing why he was a suspect, to begin with. Ask Chloe; I think she'll be honest with you."

"She hasn't been for the past year," Beca scoffed. "Why would she be now?"

"Because," Stacie said. "She doesn't have a reason to withhold the truth anymore."

"What Stacie said makes sense, Beca," Aubrey said. "Talk to Chloe first."

Beca was still unsure of what Chloe would tell her. And even more unsure if she could or would believe anything Chloe told her.

~~ My Spy ~~

Later that night, Beca was sitting at the desk in her room. She kept checking her phone, but there was still no word from Chloe.

"Beca?" Jessica called from the door. "The girls are going to the diner for dinner. Do you want to come with us?"

"I'm not very hungry," Beca said. "Thanks, though."

"I think you should come with us, Beca," Jessica said. "You have to eat. Plus, Stacie said she was going to send Amy up here if I came down without you."

Beca smiled, but it fell as suddenly as it appeared.

Okay, I'll go. But, I'm not going anywhere else after."

"Fair enough," Jessica said. "Let's go. Everyone's waiting for us."

Beca sighed as she stood to grab her phone and wallet.

"Lead on," Beca said, waving toward the door.

Jessica smiled and led Beca downstairs to join the other girls. They were all standing at the bottom of the stairs when Beca and Jessica rounded the corner at the top.

"There she is," Stacie said. "I knew threatening to send Amy up would do the trick."

"I'm glad you decided to join us, Beca," Aubrey said, smiling up at Beca.

The girls quickly left and made their way to the diner.

"Beca!" A voice called out just as they reached the diner.

Beca stopped and looked around. Jesse Swanson was rushing over to her. He stopped when he reached her, and Beca just looked at him.

"Are you okay?" Jesse asked. "I mean, it had to be rough seeing your father being arrested. Did you know Chloe was some kind of cop?"

"Leave her alone, Jesse," Aubrey said, waiting at the diner's door for Beca. "Come on, Beca."

Beca looked at Jesse and then to Aubrey. She didn't say anything to Jesse; she just turned and walked toward Aubrey. Jesse made a move to follow Beca into the diner, and Aubrey glared at him.

"Go away, Treble-boy," Aubrey said, blocking the door. "Beca doesn't need you sniffing around her."

"I just want to make sure she's okay," Jesse said.

"That's not your job," Stacie said, stepping outside to stand next to Aubrey. "She's a Bella, and we take care of our own."

"I'm her friend, too," Jesse said.

"Friend?" Stacie snorted. "Friends don't try to get their gay friend to break up with her girlfriend thinking they have a shot with her."

Stacie took a step forward and got in Jesse's face. Jesse looked scared and took half a step back.

"I'm only going to tell you this once," Stacie said, as she poked a finger into Jesse's chest with each word. "Leave. Beca. Alone."

"Come on, Stace," Aubrey said, grabbing Stacie's arm. "The girls are waiting."

The two left Jesse standing alone, rubbing his chest where Stacie had poked him.

~~ My Spy ~~

Dinner was unusually quiet, considering Aubrey and all the Bellas (minus Chloe) were there. Beca spent most of the time pushing her food around her plate or checking her phone.

"I take it you haven't heard from Chloe," Stacid said from her seat across from Beca.

Beca didn't speak; she just shook her head.

"Have you tried reaching out to her?" Denise asked.

"No," Beca replied. "I was hoping she'd call or text me so we could talk."

"Maybe you should try and text or call her," Aubrey said. "I'm sure she has to file reports or something."

"She's probably being debriefed," Jessica said. "I mean, she's been here at Barden for four years. That's a lot of time to work on a case."

"I don't think she was working on the case for the whole four years," Aubrey said. "Our first two years, we spent most of our time with the Bellas. After that, there wasn't much time for anything else. If anything, I'd say it started during our Junior Year."

"I heard one of the cops say they'd been working on closing down this drug ring for almost two years," Lily said.

"That makes sense," Jessica said. "And it coincides with what Aubry said, and when Chloe met and started dating Beca."

"Are you saying that you believe Chloe was using Beca?" Ashley asked. "Maybe to get to her father?"

"It does seem suspicious," Jessica said. A few of the girls nodded their heads in agreement.

Beca saw this and threw her fork down on her plate, causing the girls to look at her. Then, she pushed back from the table and stood.

"I'm going to try and call Chloe," Beca said and quickly walked away from the table.

Stacie stood to follow Beca; Aubrey grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Let her go," Aubrey said, watching as Beca left the diner. "I think she needs to do this for her own peace of mind."

Once Beca was outside the diner, she pulled out her phone. She walked over to a nearby bench and sat, staring at the phone in her hand. Part of her wanted to talk to Chloe to find out what the Hell was going on. And part of her didn't want to know because she was afraid Chloe would tell her she had been using Beca to get to her father. That what they had was not real, at least not real to Chloe.

Beca wiped a tear that had fallen down her cheek. She took a deep breath and pulled up Chloe's number. She pressed the call button and waited.

Beca suddenly let out a growl of frustration, throwing her phone against the tree in front of her breaking it into pieces. She bowed her head and let the tears fall unabated.

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A/N: I am planning to post updates for this fic every week on Thursdays. The only exception to the posting schedule will be during BeChloe Week 2021 (July 26-August 1, 2021); I will be posting daily during that week and putting this story on a short hold. Thanks for reading.

#bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Smiler

Warning: Flufffffffffffff Word count: 2,1k   Summary: Damian Wayne doesn’t smile. Ever. So when he suddenly starts to do so after reading text messages and receiving calls from an outsider his siblings get suspicious. Shenanigans ensue. Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Requested by the lovely-dove(l)y(?) Anon again: My second request is Damian is getting random phone calls during the day where he just smiles and walks away to answer it ( it’s the reader on the phone) and everyone is really confused so when he sneaks out they follow him and meet her

A/N: Again SKSKSKSKSK So much fluffffffffffff (a bit less than the other one, but still, I think it’s fluffy), also I decided to end this with the same sentence as the otehrs one because of the similarities and because it just kinda fits I think. 

Damian Wayne was never a smiler. Certainly not before he came to the manor nor after. If he ever smiled it was either through Schadenfreude or it was plainly fake. Everybody knew that: his father, his siblings, the media, his teachers, just everybody. Seeing Damian smile was like an evil omen, and you felt the urge to get your ducks in a row, just in case he’d kill you in a few minutes, mainly if his smile is directed at you. It was like having a lion look at you and fletch its teeth. So imagine how Dick felt when he had Damian smile while they were having a fight. One second he’s screaming at him about what in Imbecile he is, the next second he looks down at his phone laying on the coffee table and smiles. And not one of his evil smirks that you get when he knows you’ll get hurt or embarrassed in some way soon, or one of those fake smiles Bruce had got him to give the high and mighty at Galas, No. It was a real, genuine smile. One he had never seen before. “Damian?” he couldn’t help but try to get his attention back but found himself regretting it when instead of explaining or sharing what made him smile, he immediately went back to insulting him. The next time that happened was shortly after one night of patrol with Damian, Tim and Bruce. The latter sent the two boys home and to bed and decided he’d stay out a bit longer on his own and contact Jason if he needed help. And when the two of them came back into the cave, Tim spectated something completely stunning. While he decided to stay in the suit and sat down at the batcomputer to keep on working, Damian informed him that he’d go shower. But before he disappeared into his father’s office and consequentially into the manor, he walked over to a locker-like shelf in one of the corners near the batcomputer where they sometimes stored their phones and wallets during the patrol. He let the construct scan his hand, alerting Tim to look into the direction with the ‘blob’ sound it made when it opened. And then he saw it. A smile, a real genuine smile like the one Dick had experienced only a day earlier. Tim wasn’t able to see what he was looking it, only knowing that he had only stored his phone in the locker, but he knew it must have been something incredible if it could make Damian smile as simple as that. For a moment, Tim considered asking, considered finding out what in the world could make this happen, but before he could do anything, Damian - and his phone - had disappeared up the stairs.

After that, it started happening more and more often. It wasn’t limited to small glances at Damian’s phone and then a smile, no, now it was him staring and typing (obviously texting with someone) for minutes at a time, keeping smiling or letting small smiles out every now and then and, which stunned them the most, the moments when his phone vibrated and he smiled before leaving the room to answer it. The fact that he smiled? Almost impossible. The fact that he actually took the call? A straight-out miracle. Damian almost never answered his phone, be it over text or call, unless it was his father, Alfred or if he knew it was important and was spammed enough by whoever wanted him to answer. Now, in theory, it might have been, in fact, Bruce who was calling him - even though that wouldn’t explain the smiles - but a key piece of evidence that disputed that was the fact that more than once Bruce was inside the room when it happened. So that eliminated him as a subject. Alfred was out of the question for obvious reasons and Damian’s siblings weren’t even on the list. So who could it actually be? It had to be an outsider, right? “Maybe it’s Jon? Or Billy?” Tim suggested as he sat on the Batcomputer and talked to his siblings who were on patrol. Damian had been grounded for the day earlier because he almost punched a lady in the grocery shop and Bruce was with the league. “Nah, I don’t think so,” Steph replied over the sound of punches being thrown and a man groaning until there was a ‘thump’ and it was silent again. “Yeah, me neither,” Dick agreed, “I mean he’d sell Billy for a single cent and even if he confesses that he’s actually friends with Jon, he wouldn’t smile at or because of him to save his life.” “Right, well that’s all I had,” Tim shrugged and typed away on the keyboard while half-mindedly listening to his siblings discusses the matter over the coms. He was about to stand up, and make himself a cup of coffee when something in the corner of his eyes caught his attention. “Guys,” he smirked and sent them all a screenshot of one of his surveillance monitors, “You are not gonna believe that.”

“I’ve got my eyes on the prize,” Jason whispered happily while sitting on his parked bike, dressed in his civilian clothes, and spectating a very suspicious Damian walking through the streets of Gotham City in a black hoodie and black pants as if he tried to impersonate any wannabe robber in a Hollywood movie, the hood drawn over his face. “Anything suspicious yet,” Steph asked, he tone still slightly annoyed with the fact that she wasn’t the one to follow Damian because she was on patrol and had to leave it to Jason and Cas. “For Damian? Not really, nothing unusual yet. Isn’t the first time he sneaked out and it sure as hell won’t be the last time.” Jason watched as his little brother looked around as if he was being followed - which admittedly he was - but Jason and Cas, who was taking the roof-route, even though she too was in her civilian clothes, were careful enough not to let him catch them. “You see that?” Cas asked him and the two of them watched as Damian got his phone out, smiled a little, stuffed it back into his hoodie pocket and entered a small café, not the kind of place that Damian would usually go into. “Now that is… interesting,” Jason muttered to no one in particular and quickly gave Cas a nod who came jumping down from the fire escape of the building a few feet away from him. He got off of his vehicle and put on some shades and a baseball cap to keep himself somewhat incognito, before crossing the streets and entering the establishment himself, making sure to keep out of Damian’s sight and slipping into a booth in the corner from where he could see his brother’s back turned to him. A few minutes passed before anything happened- except for Cas who slipped into the seat opposite him in silence, and they started to wonder what Damian was doing there. It looked like he was waiting for something to happen, or rather someone if you took the untouched steaming cup in front of him into account, but he didn’t seem impatient or annoyed or any of the other things he usually was with even the smallest things. They couldn’t see his expression or his face, but he once again pulled out his phone when he received a call and even with only his backside in view both Jason and Cas could make out the bright expression that painted his face. He turned around in his seat and Jason laid his chin into his hand, elbow on the table, to hide as much of his face as possible, and Cas turned as far as possible without looking unsuspicious. Because of this Cas missed what Jason was able to see. She missed the girl that stepped into the cafe with her phone against her ear. She was around Damian’s age and wrapped into a trenchcoat along with a scarf that looked just a little bit too much like the one Damian had bought a few weeks earlier on a fair Dick had dragged him to. Back then he hadn’t explained himself, only scoffing at his siblings’ comments about it and they all just made up their own theories. that it maybe was a gift for Steph’s upcoming birthday, or that it was maybe supposed to be something to strangle someone with. The girl looked around the café and her already shining eyes got even more bright when they landed on Mister grumpy who had stood up at this point. she lowered the phone and almost jumped over to where Damian was standing, falling into his open arms, giggling quietly. “What the-” Jason muttered, prompting his sister to follow his gaze only to almost freeze on the spot when catching the sight. The girl and Damian managed to tear away from each other’s arms and slip into the booth that Damian had occupied earlier. She took a sip of the drink Damian had ordered for her and seemed to thank her from what Jason could read from her lips. He couldn’t read Damian’s lips with his brothers back turned to him, but whatever he said made the girl blush immensely and shyly turn her head away, causing a strand of her y/h/c hair to fall into her face. Cas and Jason couldn’t stop staring at the two of them, the whole scene so surreal. It was Damian Wayne they were seeing there, the ‘Don’t touch me I’ll bite off your fingers one after another’ Damian Wayne. And he had hugged this girl like his life depended on it and now, this was maybe the weirdest thing yet, he reached over the table to brush the hair out of the girls face, but instead of pulling the hand back again, he cupped her cheek and she practically melted into his touch. “Jason, don’t-” Cas tried to hold Jay back when he stood up and started to make his way over to the other booth, but he didn’t let himself be stopped so the only thing Cassandra could do was to go along with it. The girl who sat facing their direction caught sight of them first and seemed - understandably so - confused when the extremely tall man with the shades and baseball cap and the girl that she could swear looked familiar walked right over to them and stepped beside their table. That was when Damian noticed her distracted eyes and followed them only to let that look of being caught flash over his face before he quickly hid it under a facade of annoyance. He pulled his hand away from the girl’s cheek, but left it in front of her on the table, ready to grab her hand at any given moment. “What are you doing here, Todd?” he asked, clearly not fooled by his disguise, before turning to his sister, “And you Cain? I expected this from an imbecile like him, but I had higher expectations in you.” “Damian who are-” the girl tried to ask, but was interrupted by Jason. “You’re one to talk Brat, I very clearly remember the old man grounding you so guess how surprised I was to see you here.” “Wait, Dami you’re groun-” “This is none of your business Todd, leave us alone,” Damian scoffed and balled the hand that wasn’t near the girls into a fist. “Hmm,” Jason acted like he was thinking about it, but it was clear for everyone involved that it was nothing but an act, “Nah, I don’t think so.” Much to the dismay of a by now very, very annoyed Damian he pushed him further into the booth to the windows and let himself fall onto the couch-like seat beside him, now directing his attention to Damian’s friend. Cas send the girl a sorry smile before slipping into the seat beside her. “Todd? What are you do-” Damian wanted to ask, but Jason shushed him. “You don’t want Bruce to find out you sneaked out?” he asked and was validated by the silence that followed from his little brother, “Well then, I guess this is gonna be an interesting evening then, mind introducing me to your-” he seemed to search for the appropriate word, “-Companion?” The girl was utterly confused by now and switched looking over the faces of the people surrounding her only to land on Damian’s when he took ahold of her hand and pushed it like he was trying to silently apologize. “This is Y/N, she’s my girlfriend. Y/n, this idiot is Jason Todd, unfortunately, my older brother, and Cassandra, my sister,” he introduced and the eyes of everyone involved widened. “You have a lot to explaining to do young man…”

#Damian Wayne #Damian wayne x reader #robin #robin x reader #batfam #batfam x reader #batfamily #dc #dc x reader #dc universe #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #Stephanie Brown #steph brown #spoiler #batgirl #cassandra cain #cass cain #black bat #orphan #fluff

[bluegarners]

For the bingo card, I'd like to request the "tortured for information" square with Dick being the one who's tortured (sorry Dick alskjda). You can include any other batfam member(s) that you want, I'm not picky 😁.

Oooo, that’s a good one! I was super excited to see your request, I hope this does the prompt right~ @hood-ex

Tortured for Information

The room they’re being contained in is small, perhaps eight foot by eight, and the ceiling barely crests at seven. It’s cramped and hot, the stone bricks that surround them leaving no room for air ventilation or any sort of moisture except their own sweat. They know there’s a door somewhere off to the right, but the enclosing darkness leaves most of it to the imagination. Pitch black inks the area, not a single source of light filtering through its void. They only know there’s a door in the darkness because there used to be four of them where three now sit in anticipation. A few inches rest between each of the three remaining figures, all trying their best to breathe through the heat and not inhale the stench of their own gross fluids.

Time is hard to tell in the dark, minds so used to constant movement that stillness is unexpected and dangerous. What they do know is that, before there were just three, they awoke one by one, feeling out for one another in the darkness, checking supplies (they had none), and trying their best to figure out how to escape. The door was the obvious solution at first, the largest of them using his shoulder as a battering ram against the heavy wood. There’s no give, no weakness, and the eldest stops the biggest before there’s unnecessary hurt inflicted. There are no hinges or door knobs or anything obvious through the touch of careful fingers, so other than hopelessly banging against the door, there’s no way to open it.

All of them were still on the cusp of disoriented when they realized there’s no air flow and that, if they’re as trapped as they believe themselves to be, conserving oxygen was the next priority after a failed escape. Suggestions of being underground were thrown around, all failing to recall how they ended up in the small room in the first place or who took them. The underground theory is plausible, being that there’s no light, but the sweltering heat doesn’t match the coolness of deep earth. Being in a basement was also likely, but seeing as their prison isn’t much of a room for a house or other building also leaves the hypothesis flimsy. They compared notes from what they could remember.

“Patrol,” Tim started, a small voice in the black, “in the West portion of Gotham. I was alone though.”

“Spoiler accompanied me in the South,” Damian said.

“Last I remembered, I was in the Cave with B,” Dick chimed in. “We were going over logs. Hood?”

“Drunk,” was the muttered reply. “Still nursing a headache actually so if you guys could shut up and think, that’d be great.”

They’re still on rickety terms with the estranged brother. Things have gotten better over the years, but the progress only graduated from ‘shoot on sight’ to ‘stay the hell away’. Progress is progress though. They’re getting there, slowly, and one day Alfred will coax him into a Manor dinner.

Silence fell on them, more out of nothing else to say rather than to comply with the command, and the only sound was their breaths filtering through the stagnant air. The heat isn’t unbearable. No, far from it, they’ve all endured worse, but the closeness of their bodies provided little relief. There’s hardly enough room to stand and take a few steps before accidentally smashing someone’s hand and soon enough, agitation was brewing. Britsling words, huffs, tuts, an occasional snap; none of them did well in dark, small, and claustrophobic situations.

The hard part about residing in shadow is that one cannot tell when eyes are open or closed, seeing darkness or dreaming in black. When Jason awakes for the second time, a fierce pounding building behind his ears, he realizes that someone is missing. Someone is gone from their eight by eight confinement. A stutter of breath is absent among the shallow patterns. His fingers fumble loosely against the hard flooring, rough in texture and covered in cracks and pebbles, until he finds a body.

He shakes them. “Wake up. Wake up now.”

It’s Damian. He’s up and alert in an instant, grasping at Jason’s wrist in a move meant to harm the older man. It merely pinches him. “What’s going on?” the boy hisses, grip frightfully tight.

Jason ignores him. Feels around for another body. His hand barely moves a foot before he feels something loose and soft. He tugs at it and a startled yell answers. “What the hell?” Tim growls, low enough to be a whisper but quick enough to be panicked.

A snake of oil and water falls into his stomach as Jason confirms it. It twists around in his gut even as he crawls over to where he thinks the door is, slamming a fist into it over and over again as he feels his own panic settle coolly into his feet. They took him. Dick is gone.

That was, in their best estimate, an hour ago. Now they all sit within reaching distance, careful to watch for the signs of induced slumber, periodically calling out to reassure one another. Tim thinks it was gas. Damian thinks drugs. Jason doesn’t know what to think, just that it happened and now Nightwing is gone. He does not voice his more sinister thoughts aloud on what happened to the man in blue, what might be happening right now, but he does not console the younger vigilantes. Order would dictate that it was now his job to look after them, as the second eldest, but he’s been on his own for years and doesn’t know how to.

Dick is gone and they can only sit and wait.

~oOo~

The vapor takes him last. He’s wedged himself into a corner, straining his eyes to make out even an outline of his brothers, when he hears a body slump to the floor, followed by two after. The noise is alarming because, well, those were bodies hitting the stone floor, his brothers, and Dick prepares himself for something as he holds his breath, clasping a hand over his nose.

The door suddenly opens and white light pours into the small room like an ocean hell bent on taking everything with it. It washes over everything, and for a moment, Dick is completely blinded and overwhelmed with the sudden contrast. Just as quickly as the light burst in, there are hands scraping and clawing against his shoulders and Dick is tempted to shout, but the vapors have finally reached his lungs and he feels the lull of sleep drag at his insides until his eyes weigh a thousand pounds and he is forced to close them.

When he blinks them open, he has to bite back a scream because there’s a masked face in front of him, a ghastly brown mask with gaping holes that peer into the depths. Dick is more than a little startled but finds it within himself to evaluate. His mask is still firmly in place, he can feel the spirit gum sucking at his skin, and he is still fully garbed in his Nightwing suit. A quick glance is easy enough to prove he is no longer in that dark prison he and his brothers had been held in, and another glance confirms that he is the only one out.

His brothers are still trapped.

He, too, is trapped, secured against what feels like a metal cot with leather and metal chains and straps tying his feet and arms to the corners of the cot. The masked face moves away from him, decidedly once it's confirmed he is in fact awake, and retreats back. Dick strains to see where they go but they disappear out his peripherals and is instead replaced with the sight of an old woman, gray, almost silver, hair falling in front of her eyes. There’s bright pink lipstick on her mouth, a dull blue shimmer shade smearing her eyelids, and a coral pink blush struggling to lift up the saggy flesh in what might be an attempt at youth. She smiles down at him. Her teeth are plastic.

“Good evening, Nightwing,” she simpers, reaching out a gnarled hand to stroke at his face. “Did you sleep well?”

Dick says nothing, trying to piece together the woman’s motives. He doesn’t recognize her. She’s new. But old. Perhaps an underground leader then. The masked person from earlier would indicate some sort of dramatic cult. Dick doesn’t know if the concealment of their identity means they intend to release him later, or if the showing of the old woman’s face is a move of power, as if to say that they have the means to keep him stationary and have little fear in doing so. The woman could be anyone from a simple grandmother to an “immortal” mortal, striving for some elixir of youth like the League of Assassins. Really, this could be anything. They, whoever it was that took Dick and his brothers, were clearly very capable.

Just as Dick begins to consider the idea of magic being involved, the old woman snaps her fingers and the wooden face from earlier reappears. The blow is quick, a metal stick coming down to strike at his abdomen, and Dick has little time to brace as metal meets his thin flesh and pain lights a fire inside his stomach. He bites back a scream.

“Now, you listen here young man,” the woman berates, a shaking finger pointing accusingly at him. “When you are asked a question, you answer. Where are your manners?”

Dick is too busy catching his breath to form a coherent response, and the woman snaps her fingers again, another blow striking at his stomach again. Dick relaxes as fully as he can despite the panic that’s quickly taking hold of his limbs, and the metal collides with his side this time with bruising force against one of his kidneys. A huff of hurt escapes his mouth and Dick instinctually begins to curl up into himself, only stopped by the straps that hold him down.

“Do you understand?” the old woman asks, raising her hand threateningly as if to snap again.

“Yes,” Dick wheezes out, breathing through the pain. “Yes, I get it.”

She drops her hand, a pleased and rather pleasant smile marring her face once more. “Good. Lovely. I’m sure you have many questions, Nightwing, but I am not obliged to answer any. However, I want you to answer some questions for me. How does that sound?”

Dick isn’t sure if a head nod is enough to placate her inquiry, so he manages another verbal affirmation.

“Excellent,” the old woman crows. “I’ll begin then. Oh drat, I almost forgot. You arrived with your brothers, yes?”

Dick feels the blood in his face drain. She notices.

“Oh, not to worry!” she reassures, a wrinkled hand coming up to pat his cheek. “No harm will come to them. I would never hurt a child, Nightwing, no sir. Family is very important after all. That’s why you’re here! So, to make sure that you answer truthfully, I would like to propose a bargain.”

“Bargain?” Dick questions. His side winces, still struggling to adapt to the injuries. He’ll have to deal with it later. Later.

“Quite so,” the woman agrees. “If you answer my questions with complete honesty, and I mean that young man, I will grant a few privileges to your brothers. I don’t like shutting them away in their room, but I know otherwise they wouldn’t behave. You can help them though. Here, I’ll show you.”

A screen flickers to life above his head, a monitor illuminating the ceiling.

“If you answer my question, I will turn on one light for them,” the woman says, shakily motioning to the pitch black screen. “That is how this will work. I will tell you what privileges can be earned for your brothers, and then ask you a question. Answering truthfully is the only way to give them those rewards though. Do you understand?”

“And if I don’t?” Dick questions back, the situation finally settling into his head. Rule number something that Bruce had always instilled in him was to never bargain with your captor, especially when others were involved. Innocents.

“Then I snap my fingers,” the woman responds coldly, “and Burtrum will do his best to force the truth out of you.”

Burtrum. The hulking figure in the wooden mask. Burtrum. Okay. Okay. Not the weirdest but- okay, fine. Burtrum.

“We’ll start easy, just so you understand that I am truthful in my promises. Are you ready, Nightwing?”

He can say no. He can say no and get beaten for it, but if he says no, then there’s the chance that his brothers will suffer for it. The old woman promised not to hurt them, she said she wouldn’t hurt children, but he can’t take anything she says as absolute fact. If he says yes, that he’s willing to answer her, there’s no telling what kind of questions she might want to pry an answer for out of him. She could ask about anything: identities, the Justice League, the Titans, Batman, codes, locations, anything. And if he doesn’t answer the way she wants, he’ll get beaten for it. Tortured, more like it, and he really doesn’t want to put himself through that if he doesn’t have to.

“I don’t know how you were raised, but I don’t accept silence as an answer. You will use your words.”

Tell that to Bruce, Dick thinks ruefully, mulling over his options once again. “Fine,” he settles on, “I’m ready.”

“Splendid. Burtrum, do please fetch me a chair. My knees are brittle and it’s cold in here.”

The massive figure of Burtrum, dear lord that sounds like a name Alfred would know somehow, lumbers away and Dick, admittedly, feels a little tension ease out of him now that the immediate threat is gone. Well, the immediate physical threat.

“Now, I promised you that I would turn a light on for your brothers. I understand that children can be afraid of the dark, and it is not my intention to frighten them like this. So, tell me, Nightwing, what is your favorite color?”

“My favorite color?” he repeats back dumbly.

“Yes, indeed. Answer that and I will lighten the room. It’s not a trick question. Everyone’s got a favorite color.”

Dick can’t think of how his favorite color might be used against someone, and he certainly doesn’t use it as his own password or anything, so he says, “I like blue.”

The old woman laughs, a vibrant blue fingernail tapping against the emblem spread across his chest. “I do as well,” she titters excitedly. “Lapis is such a beautiful color, wouldn’t you agree? Such a darling, delicate shade.”

Dick doesn’t know if it’s a question he actually has to answer, it seems rhetorical, but he doesn’t want to take any chances. The fewer bruises, the better as always. “Yeah, it’s-”

“As promised,” the old woman interrupts, talking over him, “I will turn on the light. I am an honest person, Nightwing, so I hope this show of good faith will inspire you.”

Immediately, Dick’s eyes snap to the screen above him, holding his breath in anticipation as he stares into the darkness. A few seconds later and a calm yellow washes over the dark screen, the slumped figures of his brothers finally in view. It appears to be a live feed, something Dick had originally been worried about, but as he sees Jason stand up at the new lightness and Tim’s head whipping around in astonishment, Dick feels his heart sigh.

Burtrum re-enters the room, rumbling with a newer heaviness in his arms as he carries a padded wooden chair. He gently places it onto the ground and the old woman sinks into it with a gratefulness that reminds Dick that this is literally an old woman he’s dealing with. Not some crime lord, not some super villain, not some drugged out meta human. She is, quite literally, just an eighty something year old lady with a singular, large butler like henchman at her service. It all feels quite ridiculous now that he thinks about it, and for a moment, Dick wonders if he’s hallucinating or dreaming.

The smarting ache in his stomach reminds him that, no, neither of those things are true and this is truly a dangerous situation with so many unknown variables. He needs to be careful. Needs to be smart about things.

“Now that we have established my honesty, it is time to establish yours. Let’s begin, shall we?”

~oOo~

The darkness retreats suddenly and unexpectedly. Damian does not jolt, any Robin to a respectable Batman never jolts, but he will admit the sudden brightness leaves him feeling antsy. The lights meant a few things. One, someone was watching them. Two, the room was far more complex than a few bricks and an immovable door. Three, something was going to happen soon with this new development or something already did.

Todd is swearing left and right, making for the door again. Drake is peering around the room skeptically, angling his head this way and that in an attempt to understand the new light sources. And he? Damian is staring a hole into the rough ground, thinking hard. About what, he can’t quite put to words, but somehow, the light does not comfort him. It only reassures him that there was something, rather someone, crucial missing from this entire situation, the darkness having hidden that blatant fact beforehand.

The illumination does not heat the room any further than it already feels, but Damian supposes time will change that. By itself, even before the brightness, the small prison was near sweltering and Damian could feel the back of his suit becoming soaked in his own sweat. Perhaps three hours, maybe a bit more, has passed since the first time they awoke to be trapped in this confinement. Dehydration was inevitable. Escape, by all means, was still a quandary that would not be answered for the foreseeable future. There was no telling if anyone was looking for them currently, no way to communicate a location with all of their materials stripped from their persons, and being trapped inside such a tiny space with two of his least favorite people in the world only worsened that fact.

To top it all off, Richard was still gone. Still missing. Captured. Elsewhere.

The heat must be making him light headed because suddenly his neck feels too weak to support his thoughts. He rests his face in between his knees and continues to think. There is little else to do.

~oOo~

“I have a list of necessities here. Every question you answer is one of them given to your brothers. When I have run through the entire list, of which there are only three elements, I will have Burtrum deliver the items you answered to. Is that clear, Nightwing?”

It’s insane is what it is, is all Dick can think, but his voice says otherwise. “Crystal.”

“We’ll start with hygiene. How often do you patrol in Bludhaven?”

“Whenever I have time to.”

The old woman frowns and taps two fingers against the metal cot. Burtrum and his dark brown mask loom forward and Dick can feel hands rest against his ankles. Dick has the sudden realization that his boots are gone. He has nothing but thick socks and a few band-aids on his feet.

“Do not be coy, young man,” the woman carps. “Answer properly. A schedule will do.”

Will giving away specific days be too much? Yes, likely so. Though it’s true he patrols whenever he has time to, those are for extra patrols when he has the opportunity to do so with a friend or fellow vigilante. Every second month on the third Tuesday, he patrols in Gotham with Batman and Robin. On a ‘regular’ schedule, he takes every chance he can get to go out on the streets of Bludhaven. Even then, if someone watches closely enough, he does have a pattern in the how/when/where he patrols. It’s a bit too far reaching to truly connect dots, but he can’t be sure. He also had to consider that there was hygiene on the line, whatever that meant. It could be a bathroom, a shower, medical supplies, medication. It could be many things, so was he willing to pass over that for his brothers? No, not truly, but he doesn’t really know how far he can push vagueness in order to appease the lady.

He’s taking too long. The grip around his ankles is tightening and though he’s almost sure Burtrum isn’t a meta-human, he certainly looks strong enough to do some serious damage.

“I don’t have a schedule but-”

The twists are sudden, efficient and ruthless, and the sickening snap that echoes in Dick’s ears takes a moment to register. Adrenaline keeps his brain from processing the sight of both of his feet and the tops of his toes pointing straight at him, but the bulge that shines through his socks is enough to jerk his thoughts to a screeching halt. Then the pain comes. It’s blinding. Bones grinding against each other, snapped unnaturally and grating against his muscles, creating a euphoria of fire and cold, cold ice that spreads to the very tips of his toenails. On instinct, he flails and immediately, immensely, regrets it as tears spring into his eyes and his lips contort in a half snarl, half gag of anguish.

“Your brothers have lost toilet privileges,” the old woman mutters unkindly, dull eyes unfeeling for his pain, “and Burtrum has done exactly as I warned. You are a selfish man, Nightwing. Selfish and unwise. I pray this has been a lesson for you on the consequences of being dishonest.”

Dick can hardly hear her over the roar of blood in his ears, heart beating faster and faster as the pain only continues to torment him. It’s crazy, he knows he can’t actually feel the bones touching one another, it’s not something he’s aware of on a daily basis, but right now it feels like his bones are singing and his nerves are their opera house. A raging cacophony of violence and crackling misery. He sucks in a breath. Slowly pushes it out. Repeats. In. Out. In. Out.

“Let’s try again. Water, three twelve ounce bottles. Do you work with the BPD often?”

Even in his agony induced haze, Dick understands that this is something he must answer. Water is important, essential, and he doesn’t know how much longer they’ll be captured here. The offer of water is much too tempting to pass up and he knows that the room the others are cornered in is already hot. Dehydration would take hold of them soon and he only has the flimsy word of his captor that his brothers will not be harmed. He has to have some trust that the bottles of water will remain un-tampered with.

“No,” he manages, words thick like sludge on his tongue, “not officially. Sometimes, I’ll help them with drug factions or serial killers.” Dick closes his eyes and breathes deeply again. Speaking is difficult when he wants to bite through his lip to distract himself from his broken bones. “I don’t have a working relationship like Batman does with the GCPD.”

The old woman hums, clapping her hands together. “I am happy you’ve come to your senses. Your honesty has earned your brothers some water.”

She reaches out to brush some of the sweat slicked strands of hair from his face, cooing in an odd motherly way. He hates the tenderness in her touch, as if she hadn’t just ordered someone to break his ankles. This woman wasn’t just dangerous, she was psychotic. Unpredictable. To further worsen a bad situation, he still can’t figure out what the purpose in all of this was. What the ultimate goal is. She seems interested in him, Nightwing, rather than his secret identity. She’s neglected to pry about Batman, of which all villains do when they’ve got a bird in their grasps, and the soothing motions of her hands juxtapose her violence.

Dick’s head is spinning from it all, the fire licking at his feet worsening the vertigo. He doesn’t understand anything at all and the circulation in his legs is thrumming in the worst way. His feet will turn blue soon, but before that, the flesh will balloon into something almost unrecognizable with the swelling that is sure to come. How long does it take for ankles to heal? Two months? Three? That’s ignoring physical therapy and if all goes according to plan. The breaks look bad, not exactly clean, and Dick is scaring himself with the possibility of never walking properly again.

“Let’s proceed with the final item on the necessities list. Three granola bars, all high in calorie. A real treat with chocolate chips, ho ho. I know children just love sweet things.”

He’s tempted to drown her out, just focus solely on the monitor still hanging over his head and watch his brothers, but once again he evaluates that food is indeed essential too and that he still doesn’t know when rescue or escape will be. His best estimate on timing is that they’ve been captured for the better part of four, maybe five hours. Possibly more. They’re nearing the timing in which someone will notice all four of them gone. Help will come soon, but he’s got to compensate for that large if in all of this. If help arrives. If they escape. Those snacks could end up being a saving grace depending on all of those ifs.

“What do you know about the Anaconda Killer?”

The moniker is familiar. An early 2000s serial killer in Bludhaven that strangled his victims after kidnapping and holding them for a week. Most of his victims were young girls, high-schoolers and undergraduates in college, and all were blonde with blue eyes. The killer was never caught and it haunts the BPD as their first major cold case, a total of seven known victims staining the profiles.

He tells her as much, paraphrasing, and she frowns. For a moment, Dick fears that he wasn’t specific enough despite his little knowledge on the subject. His eyes dart to Burtrum, still stationary at his feet and mask staring at nothing and everything, and Dick waits for confirmation as the old woman closes her eyes.

“You worked on the case?” she asks slowly, hands crawling up to rest lightly against the metal cot. “You know of the victims?”

“Yes,” he answers, careful to keep his tone steady. A jolt of doubt strikes through him though as the old woman’s eyes snap open, a feverish excitement taking hold of her.

“Oh that’s good,” she whispers. “Very, very good.”

~oOo~

They pass out for the third time.

Knocked out is probably the more correct term, but Tim can’t find it within himself to actually care because that was the third fucking time. He can’t figure out how they do it. He’s almost completely sure it’s some sort of gas agent that leaks in through the bricks, but he can’t find any gaps or seams where the gas would invade from. He’s looked, double checked, and he can’t find any discrepancies between the bricks and stones. It’s driving him crazy because if it’s that easy to take them out, why hasn’t anything been done to them yet?

And furthermore, why leave water and food in its place?

He’s holding one of the bottled waters in his hands, inspecting the seal to make absolutely certain it hasn’t been opened. Tim knows there are other ways to tamper with water other than actually unscrewing the cap, but honestly he feels a little desperate for a bit of relief for his thirst. He’s sweat through his uniform, having unclasped his cape about an hour into their confinement. He’s sure his face is a little clammy looking and breathing through his nose feels like he’s sucking in sand, so the water was like some sort of hallucination when he first saw it. The others weren’t sure what to make of it at first either, Damian suspicious that it was poisoned and Jason not really giving a fuck.

Tim’s thirst is winning over his skepticism though, the more he turns the bottle around in his hands, the more appealing the slosh of water looks. “They wouldn’t give this to us just to poison us,” he suggests, trying to reason his way into feeling less guilty about drinking. “It just wouldn’t make sense. Why give us drugged food and water when they’ve already shown they can do that with the air? It would be-”

“Holy shit, just shut up and drink it,” Jason mutters, uncapping his own bottle and taking a large swig. Both of the younger boys turn to him with large eyes, clearly watching to see if there are any immediate, negative side effects. Jason will admit he’s a little nervous to find out as well but his defiance on the subject merely just makes him take another sip.

Ten minutes go by and Tim’s tongue is feeling tacky and borderline dry. He gives in and drinks half of the bottle, swishing the lukewarm water around in his mouth. It’s a huge relief.

“Imbeciles,” Damian says, watching with ill-concealed fascination and disgust. “You are both foolish to accept that from the enemy.”

“Maybe,” Jason tosses back, lying down. His feet almost touch the other side. “Or maybe not. It could be from Nightwing.”

Damian's head snaps up. “What do you mean by that?”

Jason hums. “Well he was taken, what, a few hours ago?”

“Four.”

“Yeah? Huh, no shit. Either way, that leaves time for negotiations. A deal. Goldie just loves making deals.”

“You’re implying that Nightwing is speaking with the enemy about our treatment?” Damian says slowly.

“Speaking, screaming, dying, who knows. But sure. He’s talking to them about our treatment.”

Tim throws a small glare to Jason’s slouched form, irritated that he’s being so casual in such a potentially dangerous situation. A small part is also starting to get more worried though because the older man does make a point. Dick is probably speaking with their captors but it’s a far reach to say it’s voluntary. There’s about a seventy-three percent chance Dick is being tortured at the moment, tortured for information or otherwise. In terms of stubbornness and resistance to torture, Dick was only second to Bruce when it came to that sort of thing, be it threat of pain or mental anguish. His eldest brother has a hard head and an even tougher mindset, but his weak spot is his heart.

If Tim and the others were being used as bargaining chips, well, there wasn’t much Dick wouldn’t agree to. Suddenly, the bottle of water doesn’t feel so much like relief as it does guilt.

~oOo~

“We’re moving on from necessities,” the old woman proclaims, anticipation now tainting her voice. “I have no intention of keeping you and your brothers here forever; children should be allowed to frolic and such. So, Nightwing, this is your chance to earn them their freedom.”

He’s never been offered something like this before. Typically, the go-to style of his torturers always involved a threat of ‘You tell me what I wanna know and I won’t kill you and your loved ones,’ or ‘You’ll eventually talk if I keep you here long enough,’. Dick can’t remember a time where he’s been offered his freedom in exchange for information. It’s just not how these things work.

“I am willing to give your brothers their supplies back as a first exchange, excluding their weapons of course. Such a prize, however, can only be earned through truth and if you lie, I will know and your punishment for lying will be severe. I do not like hurting you, you know,” the woman simpers, “but I will order Burtrum to do so. This is very important to me. Do you understand?”

The stakes are climbing higher and higher with each minute that ticks by. Dick can’t really feel his feet much, only if he chooses to think about it or if he attempts to move anything below the knee, and the pulsating in his stomach isn’t a fantastic sign. He hadn’t originally thought the blows were enough to cause actual harm, maybe a few dark, dark bruises to show for them, but the sharp pin pricks in his side where he had been struck in the kidney doesn’t feel right. Internal bleeding is something that crosses his mind, the symptoms of numbness and a faint migraine building, but Dick forces himself to categorize and shelve the pain. Now isn’t the time. It’s really not the time.

“Yes,” he says stiffly, feeling his tongue scrape against the roof of his mouth. “I understand.”

“Splendid. Who is the Anaconda Killer?”

And wow, that’s a loaded question to start off the promise of liberty with. “The BPD never caught-”

“I don’t care,” the woman snaps, leaning forward. Her breath smells like old soup. “Tell me who the killer is.”

Dick swallows. Takes a breath and releases it. Eyes Burtrum, who is still hovering by his feet. Trails his eyes back to bright lipstick and shimmer eye shadow.

“Kennedy Giavich,” Dick says, unsure if he really should be giving out the name of a civilian that has never been charged. “My investigations pointed to him being the killer but there wasn’t any conclusive evidence.”

The old woman taps a fingernail against the cot and Burtrum moves forward, placing a single meaty hand on top of Dick’s mangled feet. Slowly, languidly, the man pushes against the soles of his feet and Dick sucks in a quick breath, screwing his eyes shut. The pain, like the first time, is laced with fire and ice and Dick is starting to come to terms with the fact that he’s going to have nerve damage if this keeps up. Never mind having to stay off his feet for a couple months, he’s never going to have proper feeling in his toes again.

“Who is Kennedy Giavich?” the old woman presses, leering further into Dick’s face.

In. Out. In. Out.

The woman taps her finger again and the pressure releases, the small scream Dick had been holding back dissipating as well. “Who is Kennedy?” she repeats.

“H-He’s a security guard,” Dick manages to wheeze out, still trying to catch his breath. “Works at a communal library. It’s where he sought out his victims. He, mgh, quit last year though. Brown hair, brown eyes, large build.”

“What else?”

“I tailed him for a couple months but he didn’t have any new victims. He lives near the library he worked at and hasn’t gotten another job since. That’s all I know.”

The old woman eyes him, pressing her lips together in what might be a scowl. She regards Dick with an air of suspicion, as if she could somehow read his mind to discern if he was telling the truth or not. He is, seeing as he really hasn’t done much follow up on Giavich in the past few months. A mistake, possibly, on his part but a cold case is cold, and Dick leaves it at that. Especially when there are more active and pressing things to attend to with the little time he has.

Reaching a decision, she raises a wrinkled hand and waves it behind her, signaling Burtrum to leave the room. Dick’s eyes travel upwards to the screen again, watching with a sick feeling in his stomach as one by one his brothers succumb to whatever invisible agent leaks into their small room. A minute later, the thick wooden door creaks open slightly, Burtrum out of sight of the ceiling camera, and a few utility belts are thrown in. The door shuts quickly, presumably some sort of locking mechanism closing it completely, and Dick abruptly doesn’t feel as bad giving away a supposedly innocent civilian’s name. Hopefully, with their tech back, his brothers will find away to escape and get out of whatever hole they’ve been trapped in.

“You said that he hasn’t taken any victims in recent times,” the old woman says quietly, hands folded into her lap. “That he’s been inactive?”

Dick nods. The sick in his stomach is starting to roll around a bit more violently, nausea taking hold. Burtrum re-enters the room holding something in his left hand, but Dick can’t tell what it is, the large figure just out of his peripheral vision. He swallows at the silence that follows his entrance, the air thick with tension. Dick holds his breath.

The old woman snaps her fingers and Burtrum descends upon him.

The blows are rapid and without prejudice, slamming into every available surface that isn’t obstructed by the straps that hold him down. It’s so fast, so savage, that Dick can’t follow the movements and prepare accordingly, the flash of a weapon and it’s strike zone too much for his pain muddled mind to physically follow. One barely glances against his feet but even that is enough to send his brain into a shock, white fire lacing up his legs and to the tip of his nose. It’s bruising, crushing force, each impact enough to completely paralyze him for a few precious milliseconds. His arms are jerking in their restraints, knees bumping against each other on reflex, and there might be a sound escaping his jaw each time a blow connects, but he can’t be sure because everything is happening much too fast and his lungs are gasping for air that escapes him.

All the while, as Burtrum continues to pummel him and break his bones and bleed him dry, the old woman is muttering, gazing at the beat-down with angered, uninterested eyes and a frown cold enough to freeze the sun.

It’s all Dick can do but try and relax, there’s no point in defending himself like this, but his instincts are going hay-wire. He wants to clench and retaliate, snatch the weapon out of those ruthless hands, but Dick’s own hands are secured tightly. He can feel the marks pulling at the skin of his wrists, indenting and leaving bright red and raw flesh behind in his frenzy. Desperately, his eyes once again travel to the screen above him, his brothers’ forms still and un-moving. The sight brings little comfort, a small and irrational portion of his head screaming that they’re dead, that the old woman killed them, that Dick killed them, that he’s going to die to-

The beating stops. The old woman has a frail hand resting against Burtrum’s huge arm. She’s staring right at him.

“That was unfair of me,” she says. “I should have warned you again.”

Blood dribbles past his lips, saliva and bile sliding out as well and leaking onto the cool metal.

“I told you at the start that I wouldn’t tolerate lies.”

Something shifts inside Dick’s chest. He thinks a rib might’ve been broken. Or maybe that’s his clavicle. Sternum. Something. It hurts. It hurts.

“That Burtrum would extract the truth if necessary. Really this shouldn’t have come as a surprise, Nightwing.”

Breathing is difficult. His stomach spasms with each inhale and exhale. It’s slow and pained. Thoughts are difficult too. His eyes remain fixed on the dull monitor. Jason is moving. Reaching for his empty holsters. Tim is shifting. Damian remains still.

A gentle hand guides his chin away from the screen.

“Don’t lie to me,” the old woman whispers. There are tears in her eyes. “I told you that this was very important to me. Would you like to know why? Why I do this?”

Dick doesn’t have the strength to say yes or no. Doesn’t have the will to nod his head or turn it away. He can only stare through the lens of his mask.

“He has my grand-daughter,” she admits, voice trembling. Her fingers tap a frantic rhythm against his chin and blood flicks in their dance across his face. “I just know it. And I know you must know it too. You live in Bludhaven, don’t you? You work with the police there. Surely you must know? You’ve told me as much, so surely… Surely you know where she is?”

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t.

The tapping stops and fingernails dig into the sides of his jaw, shaking him. It jars something in his mouth and he coughs, spittle flying out and something hard dislodging. He’s lost a tooth then it would seem.

“Her name is Maria Dunken,” the old woman tells him, looking, searching, for anything like recognition in Dick’s bloody face. “She has blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s only sixteen. Please, you must know what he did to her. Where she is. Answer me! Tell me!”

Dick feels himself drifting, mind floating somewhere between coherence and dizziness. He can’t feel his feet anymore, his heart is beating beating beating, and there’s a dark fuzz building at the edges of his vision.

The old woman releases his face, pulling instead at the heavy arm of Burtrum. “This,” she says almost breathless, the panic building in her voice, “This is her uncle. Don’t you see? You must, you must know where she is. We are her family. Family is important, I know you understand this. See, look at your brothers! You do this for them, don’t you?”

Yes, Dick thinks, a mist falling over his sight. Always.

“I, we both, would do anything for our families. This was my last hope, Nightwing. My last resort. I tried so hard to get the police involved but no one would answer. Do you know how long I searched for you though? How long would you have ignored my grand-daughter if I had not brought you here? How long?”

Dick doesn’t know. The room is getting darker. He can feel his shoulders sagging against the cold table, muscles trembling and collapsing.

“Sorry,” he rasps, because that sounds like the right thing to say. He is sorry about Maria Dunken and her poor grandma. He is sorry he didn’t stick with Kennedy Giavich longer. He is sorry he ever got into this situation. He’s paying the price for it now.

The old woman laughs wetly, Burtrum jerking in her grasp. “All will be forgiven if you tell me where Maria is. Everything will be okay. Just tell me. Please.”

Dick’s eyes are drifting back to the monitor, it’s dull glow all he can focus on. Its bright edges are just enough to chase away the luring darkness that’s clouding his eyesight. Jason is up, pacing, pounding against the door. Tim is picking through his belt, nimble fingers taking stock. Damian is staring right at him. Straight at the camera. Dick feels a smile tugging at his sore features. He doesn’t remember the last time Damian ever looked so small. He’s grown up, hasn’t he?

“Nightwing?” a voice calls to him, distracting him. “Where is she?”

Slowly, Dick glances back over to the petite and frail woman and her hulking figure of a son. They make a funny picture, contrasting spectacularly against each other, but their faces, even if one is covered, are filled with a dangerous kind of hope. Thrill. Expectance.

Suddenly, a headline crosses to the forefront of Dick’s mind. Two weeks ago, a body was found in an alleyway, stuffed underneath piles of garbage. It was a young girl, a Jane Doe, and she had blonde hair and blue eyes. She was strangled to death. Even now, the details are barely there, the news a similar story to all the other tragedies that happen and continue to happen. But still. Grandmother and son look at him, his bruised and broken body, and think he has the answers they seek.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t.

“She’s dead.”

Dick blinks and finds he doesn’t have the strength to open his eyes again.

~oOo~

Jason is about to punch the door for the fifth time when he hears something click on the other side.

Tim is trying to figure out how to get his communicator to work with little reception when he sees Jason take a step back from the door.

Damian is still staring at the weird indent in the ceiling when he realizes neither of the other occupants are moving.

They all stare at the heavy door as Jason carefully edges towards it, pressing a hand against the far side. There is little resistance and the obstruction that had trapped them for so long swings open. White light pours in and they have to squint against its brilliance. An empty hall reveals itself past the frame, and through the hall is another open door, the sounds of the city filtering beyond it. 

Jason is the first to move, taking a step out of the small room that smelled of sweat and old heat. Tim follows, gathering his emptied belt and peering into the white expanse. Damian trails after, suspicion the only thing keeping him from fleeing out into the streets. No one stops them as they walk down the long, clean hallway. There are no doors, no windows, no other exits other than straight ahead and when they step out into the damp and smog filled air of Gotham, life dances before them.

They are free.

They are free and are forced to wonder: At what cost?

#bad things happen bingo #tw:blood #tw:torture #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Tim Drake #fanfic #prompt #tbh i wrote another version of this with about 10 pages before i decided i did not like it #maybe one day i'll try re-writing it but for now it's just going to be some random draft #uh i don't think dick died in this story? it's an open ending i suppose #so you can make up whatever ending you want #dick grayson whump #angst #in the good ending the boys find dick and take him home and he makes a full recovery with a thousand hugs and some nice hot chocolate #in the bad ending the boys dont find dick and he just kinda lays there and succumbs to his injuries #yikes that'd be real sad wouldn't it? #dick staring down at his broken body: haha don't die you're so sexy #dick looking at his feet: haha don't become lame and lose all feeling haha you're too sexy for that

[hermannsthumb]

Lo and behold, HERMANN is the one with a long list of hunky ex-boyfriends (and it drives Newt a little nuts)

a req sent in by @k-sci-janitor and filled TIMELY ENOUGH on their BIRTHDAYYYYY 🎉🎉🎉🎉 s/out to them for discussing this fic concept w me months ago and also today 👀

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

It’s a relief to find out Hermann is gay. It’s not even because of Newt’s weird, repressed feelings for the guy—though he admits it’s equally a relief to know that he’s not barking up the wrong tree entirely. The thing is that Newt’s really not sure what he would do if Hermann wasn’t. Hermann has the distinct honor (displeasure?) of being Newt’s only friend in the Shatterdome, after all; this means aside from usual friendship duties (sitting with Newt at lunch, listening to him complain about his day, allowing himself to be dragged along to bars and movie theaters when they finally have a second to breathe), he’s also the person Newt goes to with tales of his romantic conquests (not that he has any), requests for dating advice (not that Hermann has any), and reassurances that whoever Newt has his eyes on that week is hot enough for him (could they ever be?). It’s just, like, easier to do that kinda shit with someone who would also be (hypothetically) eyeing up and dating dudes, if Hermann ever managed to take the stick out his ass and relax long enough to do stuff like that.

Hell, Newt would be first in line if he ever did. As it is, he just has to settle on knocking knees with Hermann under the mess tables and—for lack of a better phrase—checking the latest batch of ranger hopefuls out. Newt doesn’t normally go for the tall, built, and athletic type, but Shatterdome transfers are usually the only way he can score a date, because all the seasoned personnel know to avoid the weirdo biologist in the basement by this point. There’s a war on; desperate times call for desperate measures. Newt hopes at least a handful of them are desperate.

“He’s kinda hot, don’t you think?” Newt says under his breath to Hermann. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at one of the new ranger trainees in line for soup behind them. He has dark hair and a nice smile, and—more importantly—Newt’s sure he’s been making eyes at their table for the better part of five minutes. He’s one of the latest batch that has only just arrived two weeks prior, and the smallest batch by far. Not many people are enlisting in the PPDC these days. Bad for the state of the world and Newt’s libido.

“Hm?” Hermann says.

“The guy behind us,” Newt says. “No, don’t be obvious about it—”

But Hermann turns, conspicuously, so (deciding it can’t get any more awkward than it already is) Newt sighs and turns with him. The dark-haired ranger notices: his smile hitches up an extra centimeter, and he winks.

At once Newt feels his ego swell. He winks back. “Still got it, dude,” he crows to Hermann, and is just rising from his chair to swoop into action when he realizes something; the ranger was not making eye contact with Newt. He was—and is—making eye contact with Hermann.

Hermann scoffs. “Oh, please,” he mutters to Newt. “If he thinks that’ll get him invited over again—”

But the ranger is abandoning his spot in line and jogging towards them, smoothing down his hair as he goes. He’s brimming with a palpable mixture of excitement and anxiety. “Hey, Dr. Gottlieb,” he says. “So, uh, last week was pretty fun?” It’s an invitation for approval, one which Hermann ignores in favor of jerking his shoulders noncommittally. The ranger presses on anyway. “It’s cool to see you. Haha. I, uh, just wanted to make sure you have my email, in case you want to get together again.”

“I have it,” Hermann says.

An awkward tension settles between them. Newt clears his throat in hopes of diffusing it, and the ranger’s eyes dart over to him. “I’m Newt,” Newt says. “Hermann and I work together.”

“Cool,” the ranger says. Disinterested. “Anyway, Dr. Gottlieb, I’m free whenever, so?”

“Yes, I’ll certainly email you,” Hermann says. He picks up his dinner roll and begins to spread butter over it, not bothering to look up when he adds “Lovely to see you again.”

The guy nods, and hurries back over to his friends, who begin debating something with him in hushed voices. Twice the group glances back at Hermann. Hermann’s—uh—friend seems to be blushing. Hermann begins to butter the other half of his dinner roll. “What the hell was that about?” Newt says.

Hermann sets down his roll and furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“That,” Newt says. “Who was that guy?”

“Oh,” Hermann says. “Him.” He rolls his eyes, and to Newt’s alarm goes pink in the cheeks. “We had a, ah, a date, I suppose you could call it, last week. He turned out to be a bit rude, actually, not the very, er, courteous sort. Attentive. Or at least not as courteous as I like. You know.”

“I don’t,” Newt says.

“You know,” Hermann repeats, with more force on the know. His pink blush spreads down his neck. “In the—coupling—sense.”

“You hooked up with him?” Newt says, too loud. A few heads swivel in their direction, including Hermann’s quote-unquote date and his friends; Hermann whacks Newt in the shin with his cane, clearly mortified.

“Keep your voice down! I don’t want the whole bloody Shatterdome to know, do I?” Hermann hisses. “Yes, I had sex with him. I do occasionally take time to enjoy myself.”

Newt stares at Hermann in amazement. Hermann hooks up? Hermann hooks up with hunky guys? Hermann hooks up with hunky guys and then ghosts them? “I didn’t know,” Newt says. “That you…did that.” Months and months of talking about his shitty love life to Hermann and Hermann has never once bothered to volunteer information of his own. Newt always just assumed Hermann had put his emotional (and physical) needs on hold for the sake of the war. Apparently not.

“You never asked,” Hermann says. “Is it important?”

Yes, it is. Newt shakes his head. The rest of their dinner is quiet and without any further interruptions. It’s also without their usual bickering, though, which makes it feel oddly lonely, and when Newt gets back to his bunk that night, he can’t help but wonder what else he hasn’t discovered about Hermann yet. Or, really—what about Hermann’s love life he hasn’t discovered yet.

A bouquet of flowers arrives for Hermann at the lab a week later. Newt is the one to take the delivery, Hermann being too absorbed in his calculations and boring graphs, and also because Newt is harboring a secret hope they’re for himself from a secret admirer. No such luck. To Dr. Gottlieb, the heart-shaped label proclaims in pink cursive, and a few sentences of the sappiest attempt at poetry Newt’s ever seen follows. Love, Pedro. Newt smirks through a suffocating wave of jealousy, whether to be the one giving or getting the flowers he’s not sure. “Hey, Hermann,” he calls across the lab. “Your boyfriend getting persistent. Want me to stick these in water for you?”

Hermann grumbles something, then says “Boyfriend?”

“From the mess the other night,” Newt says. “The uncourteous one.” Newt double-checks the note. “Pedro. His heart is yearning for you, Hermann. Listen to this—”

But Hermann scoffs loudly before Newt can even start on the poem. “Don’t be daft,” he says. “That wasn’t Pedro. That was Jason.” He scribbles over something on his chalkboard and starts again on the line below it. “And Pedro is hardly my boyfriend—it was only dinner.”

“Dinner?” Newt squeaks.

“And drinks,” Hermann says.

“You’re seeing another guy?” Newt says.

Hermann finally turns around. “Does it matter if I am?” he says.

“Yes,” Newt says. “No? I don’t know?”

“I’m a grown man, Newton,” Hermann says. “I date. You ought to try it yourself—it does wonders for the nerves.” When Newt is clearly still unsatisfied, Hermann sighs. “I met Pedro on an errand to LOCCENT last month, and I found him charming. You’d recognize him—you actually, er, caught us in a bit of a compromising position the other night. Remember?”

Newt frowns. He hasn’t caught Hermann with anyway in any compromising situations recently—the only thing he can think of that could be considered remotely embarrassing is when he stepped out into the hallway the same time Hermann’s physical therapist did, and they ended up bumping into each other. But that was—oh, God, Newt’s an idiot.  “That was him?” Newt says. He just assumed anyone stopping by Hermann’s room after work hours would be there for physical therapy, okay? And there had been a lot of…noise. Well, he’s not going to think about that now. “But he was so hot! Do you only date, like, hunks or something?”

“Really, Newton,” Hermann says. “You’re making yourself upset over nothing.” The corner of his mouth twitches up. “Though one of my old ex-boyfriends did become an underwear model…”

“Dude,” Newt says, and before he can help himself, blurts out “Shit, maybe I should start going to the gym.”

Hermann gives him a strange, searching look, and Newt immediately clamps his mouth shut in horror. He’s really gotta start working on his brain-to-mouth filter. Or at least work on not sticking his fucking foot in it every five minutes. “As I said,” Hermann says, cryptically, and turns away (apparently satisfied with whatever he saw in Newt), “you’re making yourself upset over nothing. I hardly find the need to limit myself to ‘hunks’.”

“Uh,” Newt says. “Right.”

Whatever that means.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

one night stand au for the ask game! (if ur still playing lols)

Yes I most definitely am! (Sorry this took us a sec, I had to consult with my better half 💕 )

This one has been unintentionally underwraps for months, but we work on it pretty much every night. This is a HotchReid roleplay fic, set in an AU where Reid doesn't join the BAU until season 3. And ends up meeting/sleeping with Hotch literally the night before his first day. But they don't know they will be working together when they do, not until Reid is walking into Hotch's office the next morning. And as hard as they try to have that be the end of it -- Hotch is his boss after all, they just can't be doing this -- they find themselves breaking the rules they set down for themselves. Again, and again, and again.

There's so much sex in this, we've already written at least 250k words and we're still going. It's so good. But it is... a lot of sex.

The lovely @spencehotchner writes for Hotch, and I'm writing for Spencer.

With +250k in my docs I feel like I kind of have to include a snippet, so it's below the cut. It's safe for work, sorry folks, just super long. Because I ramble like a mofo so my entries are so, so long. We still need to edit/beta everything but we do plan to post it at some point. Some day. It's too good to keep to ourselves.

--

Aaron smiles up at him goofily as Spencer tugs him up. "Mm, I'm coming, I'm coming." He scrambles up and follows him.

He would make breakfast if he could. He would make it so good, and kiss Spencer over coffee, and get to know him all day. He’d ask all the questions he wants to ask-- what makes him tick. What puts that beautiful smile on his face. What makes his brain whir, and his heart spin, and his body go electric. He wants to know all of the things that turn Spencer on, even outside of sex. He wants to know what he wakes up for in the morning. What he tastes like after a good cup of coffee.

Fuck work.

"What time do you get off work?" he asks.

Spencer turns to him, eyes wide and... hopeful. Fuck. Aaron is watching him, with this content and appraising look, like he's thinking of things they don't have time for -- not just the sexy things, but other things. He'd said something about coffee the night before, and for the first time since Spencer got word he'd been offered the position at the BAU, he really wished he didn't have to start today. He'd been looking forward to it for weeks.

But all he wants right now is to drink coffee with Aaron in his kitchen.

"Um, well -- first day and all. New team, new boss. Usually I'm nine to five, normal hours, but I don't know how late I'll be there or... if I'll be off early," he glances at Aaron from beneath his lashes, fingers still tangled together, shower beating against the tile behind them and steaming up the room. He pulls the man with him beneath the spray, straight into a kiss that's wet and slick as the shower warms them and sluices down their skin. 

He tries to pretend he isn't still shaking a little, aftershock tremors of their morning sex, and nerves about what Aaron is going to ask him. If he's going to ask him. 

"Did you have something in mind?" he dares to ask, and it's quiet and barely heard over the shower, but Spencer does ask it. He's proud of himself for that. The affect Aaron is already having on him is palpable, and Spencer likes it -- likes the way Aaron makes him feel. In general, and about himself.

Aaron hums, placing a small kiss on his lips, hiding a smile. "Yeah, well. There's this thing called dinner that people often do at night. I was planning on having it. Was wondering if you'd maybe join me."

It’s not subtle, not in the slightest, but Aaron is through with subtle for the moment. He’s ready to lay it out on the line, here. I want you, I know you want me.

Spencer's heart is about to beat out of his throat, and he smiles so wide he's all teeth and upturned lips and a deluge of pecks to Aaron's own smile that he tries to hide from him. They're basically the same height, the man can't hide a thing from Spencer when they are pressed this close.

"I'd love to," he beams, kissing him again a little deeper, a little more playful, and he's going to make them both late at this rate. But God, does Spencer love kissing Aaron. "I'd love nothing more."

Aaron smiles, pinching his side playfully. "Yeah? Well, I guess that means I'll have to get your number."

Aaron can imagine it now-- being on a case, seeing Spencer’s number on the device in his hand as he texts him good night. Them talking throughout the day today, in the future, little check ins on each other, because Aaron is sure he’s not going to be able to get this boy off his mind. It’ll be a struggle to do anything but text him all day.

He runs a hand through Spencer’s wet curls, playing with the ends of the strands, trying to memorize the way the shower’s steam paints a blush on Spencer’s cheekbones. Watercolor. Aaron could see him as a work of art.

God, he had to be crazy. But going home at night with a random stranger was crazy for him. Standing in his shower the next morning was crazy for him. Asking for his number was crazy for him.

Crazy felt good.

"Play your cards right, you might even get my last name," Spencer says cheekily, giggling and dodging out of the way as Aaron tries to pinch his side again. 

But he's... so happy, so delirious with it, that nothing could ruin his day now. Because he was going to have dinner with Aaron after his first day at work for the BAU, which he'd been dreaming about since Jason Gideon used it a lure to recruit him into the FBI just after his second Ph.D. 

For the first time, in a long time, his life felt pretty perfect.

Aaron grins and steals another long, slow kiss from him, feeling light and airy and good.

Fucking hell, does he feel good.

They get out of the shower and Aaron dresses as quickly as he can, because he really does need to go. As soon as he's dressed, though, he's pulling a half dressed Spencer into his arms to kiss him again.

Spencer manages to get into briefs and slacks and is trying to color coordinate some kind of dress shirt and sweater combination with a tie (literally everything is clean, this shouldn't be this hard) when Aaron is there pulling him into a searing kiss. Still damp from the shower, dressed in his clothes from last night, smiling against his mouth and Spencer can't help how he huffs out a laugh and kisses back with just as much enthusiasm. 

He really didn't want the man to go. But it was quickly approaching 7:00a.m. and D.C. traffic had to be hell, even with a cab. Spencer had always taken the train when he was at MIT, the East coast had a well established system. So he'd decided the week prior he would just do the same here and save himself the daily morning anxiety attack of trying to make it to work on time on his own. That's what public transportation was for. Regulated, mass transit. Set arrival and departure times. A soothing balm if there ever was one.

"Give me your phone," he says with a smile, still so close he basically speaks against Aaron's mouth. He takes the offered iPhone and puts his number in under his name, just his first name. Ready to make the man earn the rest of his personal information.

Maybe, if dinner went well, they'd have... all night to get to know each other. Was it too much to hope Aaron would stay the night again? Probably, but Spencer was in a dreaming mood. Reach for the stars, might as well. With everything going so well, it was only a matter of time before something happened to interfere.

God, he hoped they didn't catch a case on his first day.

Aaron smiles down at the name on his screen. Spencer. He pulls him into one more final kiss, his head spinning pleasantly. There will be more where that came from, he reminds himself. Prays hard in that moment to whoever is listening that he’ll be able to make it to... 

"Tonight," he promises. "I'll see you then."

--

The BAU Section Chief, SES Erin Strauss, is the one to greet Spencer when he arrives at the FBI building in Quantico. She's a stern woman, but friendly enough for someone in such a position of authority, and she seems very pleased that Spencer is there to join the team. Calls him 'Dr. Reid' often enough he knows either Gideon or his former team leader had mentioned it was something he was particular about -- or she was more concerned about his appeal politically than what he can do for the team.

He didn't let it sour his mood, though, because the morning had just been... too good to be ruined by something as trivial as that. Spencer had gotten the job, he was there in the building, had just received his badge and his gun and his ID card for the key-padded doors and a whole slew of other orientation day milestones.

And now he was on the seventh floor, about to walk into the Behavior Analysis Unit, where he can see people milling about busy as worker bees and his chest swells with nervousness and excitement and too many emotions to name. 

If not for Aaron, and their amazing night and morning together, Spencer would be all nerves and worry -- but the morning sex alone was enough to knock a lot of that tension out of his spine and shoulders. He was ready for today, more ready than he'd ever thought he'd be.

Chief Strauss leads him into the 'bullpen', as she calls it, a lower level agent holding the door open for both of them, and then she's leading him to a cluster of desks that must be part of the new team he's joining.

"Good morning," she says, startling a trio that was talking animatedly over coffee -- and then all eyes are on Spencer. "This is Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm sure you were expecting him. Is Agent Hotchner in, yet?"

The three standing there very obviously fight rolling their eyes, and Spencer gets the feeling it's not about him or his title as 'Dr. Reid' -- or he hopes not anyway. His hopes are confirmed when a pretty, petite blonde smiles sweetly and sincerely at him and introduces herself as "Jennifer Jareau, but call me JJ", the communication liaison for the unit. A position Spencer wasn't aware existed, but he could definitely see the merits of it. Then, she addressed Chief Strauss.

"Hotch is always here by 8:00 a.m." she says, in a way that was somehow not condescending, but probably should have been. "He'll be up in his office waiting for you, ma'am."

"Thank you. Agent Morgan. Agent Prentiss." She nods to the others, and Spencer merely waves and grimaces a smile, wanting to actually introduce himself and hoping the others understand at least a little bit. He isn't sure he can actually say no to the woman who was his boss's boss. 

"Erin, are you going to let him meet anyone?" says a voice from above them, just a half a level above the bullpen where offices line the walls -- and it's fucking David Rossi. Standing there, in the flesh, and Spencer is actually a little starstruck. Since when had David Rossi come out of retirement? He knows he's gaping a little bit, mouth parted on a million and one questions to ask the man, but at Chief Strauss's huff of indignation, he lets his jaw snap shut. 

Later. He can ask later. 

"Is Agent Hotcher ready for Dr. Reid? I'm sure you all have a case to go over," she says in a drone, and Spencer's stomach drops at that. Fuck, he hopes they don't have a case. He... has a date. That would probably be a bad excuse.

"I don't know," David Rossi says in a teasing lilt, then merely turns to the side and speaks into an open office door. "Hotch, you ready for Dr. Reid." 

Spencer is blushing down to his roots, and Rossi merely winks at him to show he's joking. Apparently, Chief Strauss was being over the top and not just like this all the time. That kind of makes the situation worse, in his opinion.

Strauss doesn't wait for an answer, and starts up the stairs with Spencer following and trying to get used to the team dynamic. David Rossi actually pats him on the shoulder as he tries to slip by. "Don't worry, he's all bark and only a little bite. And I'm pretty sure he still hasn't read your file yet." 

Well, that's not exactly promising.

Aaron still manages to show up about 15 minutes earlier than he had planned on. He had an extra suit at the locker in the office, and just went straight there to get dressed.

Which, of course, meant he had to run into David.

"So," David says, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Someone didn't need a ride home last night."

Aaron keeps his face stoic as he adjusts his tie, sitting down at his desk. "Do you need something, Dave?"

"Who was she?" David just barrels on, raising an eyebrow. "I wasn't under the impression that you were on the prowl last night, but I was apparently wrong."

Aaron stares him down.

"That good, huh?" Dave just grins, and grins and grins, and Aaron doesn't let the fact that he's had the most amazing morning in years show through on his face. Nothing can take away the fact that, on his phone, there's a number with the name Spencer beside it.

"I'm an adult," Aaron says, simple as that. "Now, can you leave? I still have to go over the--"

"Oh, he's here!" Dave says, looking out the door. Aaron's blinds are closed, and he raises an eyebrow. "Oh, he's young. Erin are you going to let him meet anyone?" David says as he steps out of the door.

Aaron laughs to himself, straightens his tie again, prepares himself to meet the newest team member. He hopes whoever this is will be good for him-- good for the team. He's nervous. He loves his team, thinks they have a great dynamic. Change is... different. After Elle had left, things had been rocky. No one could replace her, but this new kid was supposed to be something special.

Aaron would just have to see about that.

"Come in," he says, busying himself with some files to look like he isn't anticipating the worst, when a knock rasps at his door.

Chief Strauss knocks at the Unit Chief's door, the team leader that Spencer would be directly under for the foreseeable future, and just walks on in -- in fact, the knock seems a little last second. Like she doesn't usually announce herself when she comes in, and is on her best behavior in front of Spencer.

He's not sure why, it's not like he wouldn't find out how everything works around here eventually. He isn't going anywhere.

"Aar- ahem, Agent Hotchner," again, with the hesitation, acting formal. Spencer looks around the dark wooded office lined with books on Law and sadism and serial killers alike, until he turns to the desk against the wall. "This is Dr. Spencer Reid, your newest team member."

Sitting there is a man in a dark suit, broad shouldered, black hair, bent over some files spread on his desk and seemingly very intent on his work. Finishing whatever he was making note of before looking up at them.

Dark eyes. Darker lashes. Tunnel vision stare that pierces through Spencer, and all the breath escapes his lungs.

No.

Strauss turns back to him with a tight, friendly smile; unaware of the bomb that has just gone off inside Spencer's head.

"Dr. Reid, meet your new Unit Chief: Supervisory Special Agent, Aaron Hotchner."

#god please let this formatting work #everyone form a prayer circle that this super duper long snippet isn't all out of order #did i need to post a 2k snippet? #no i did not #but i wanted to because i love this rp so damn much #this is unedited and subject to change but i honestly feel like it's perfect #asks #ask game #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting

[mochegato]

Covert Matchmaking

Covert Dating     Covert Romance     Covert Wedding     Covert Marriage     Covert Pregnancy

Honestly?  This was really just an excuse to write Dad Jason scenes.

 Marinette was giggling on the phone when he walked in the room.  That was not a good sign.  Jason’s danger senses started tingling.  She looked over to him when she heard them come in the room and quickly got off the phone. “Hey,” she smiled innocently at him.

Jason bounced their baby in his arms, making cooing noises and funny faces at her, which she completely ignored as she continued crying.  “Her Majesty is awake and very hungry.” He gently handed Catherine to Marinette.  “Who was on the phone?”

“Dick.”  She pulled up her shirt and started nursing Catherine, who immediately stopped crying and latched on.

“Okay, could be worse.” He plopped down next to them, tossing his arm around Marinette’s shoulders and stroking Catherine’s head as she nursed.  “Did you hear that Catherine?  Mommy is conspiring again, creating problems we’re going to get dragged into fixing.”

“What are you teaching our daughter?” She exclaimed in mock insult.  “I’m working with Dick, not Tim.  That makes it scheming not conspiring.”

“Oh, my mistake.  Of course.  What are you and Dick scheming about?”

“Matchmaking,” she grinned, a dangerous glint shining in her eyes.  Jason shuddered.  She and Dick were relentless when they were trying to ‘help’ the family.

“Nope.  Never mind. We don’t want to know.  Catherine and I are going to discuss the sub textual imagery in A Midsummer Night’s Dream as soon as she is done eating.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.  “We don’t need you anyway.  Dick and I have this handled.”  

Jason gave a heavy sigh.  “Okay, just be careful.  They’re almost there already.  They don’t need much of a push.”

Marinette gasped, indignant at the suggestion, “What do you take me for? Alya?  I can be subtle!”

“Maybe” he gave her a dubious look while he pretended to scrutinize her, “but can Dick?”

She rolled her eyes at him, “When he needs to be.” Jason scoffed at that.  Dick was about as subtle as a taser shock.  “And they don’t seem to suspect anything yet.”

“What do you mean ‘yet’?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, which was rather the point.  Dick was just calling to let me know Adrien and Duke left to work on a mission together.”  She grinned even wider.  “Shame nobody else was available to help out.  Adrien was the only one that was free during the day today to help Duke.  Awfully coincidental the drug ring needed to be investigated during the day so Signal would be on call and the investigation had to happen on a day Tim and Bruce were working on a merger, Steph and Cass are still away on their girl’s weekend, and Dick is on call for work.”  She shrugged innocently.

Jason groaned at her.  “Here look,” she turned her phone to show him a picture.  The picture showed Adrien looking softly at Duke as he was facing the batcomputer, his arms out as if he was in the middle of explaining something.  She swiped the picture to the next which showed Duke with a blush and a smile looking at Adrien who was laughing.  “Dick sent them.”

Jason started to say something but just shook his head instead when Catherine started gurgling.  Marinette handed her to him along with a burp cloth.  He tossed the cloth over his shoulder and started patting Catherine gently against it.  “Come here Tinkerbell.  That’s right, Dada has you.  Dada. Da Da.  Say Dada.  I know she’s the one that feeds you but I burp you so… just as important.”

“You’re not funny.” She pretended to glare at him. But Catherine chose that moment to make a gurgling noise that sounded like a laugh.  Jason gave her a smug smile.  Marinette gasped, “Catherine Sabine Todd!  Do not encourage him.”

As soon as Catherine had burped, he started bouncing her, taking her over to the window to show her the city.  Catherine was gurgling at him, her arms waving in jerky motions. “And that there is a pigeon.” He said softly, pointing out the window, “People say those flying rats are harmless but those people have never swung into one at a high velocity.  Don’t listen to those people.  They’re fucking morons.  Pigeons hurt.”

“Jason!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughed.  “Those people are fucking assholes”

“Jason!” Marinette giggled at him and watched him fondly.  She studied him as he stood in front of the window, face covered in stubble from not having shaved in a few days and his hair a mess.  He was shirtless and his sweatpants sat low on his hips, holding their baby so gently and lovingly.  “You better be careful.  You keep looking that sexy and acting that masculine, you’re going to make me want to start trying for our next kid.”

Jason smiled at her, “Let’s get to the point that I’m no longer sharing your boobs, then we can start trying.”  He carried Catherine over to Marinette, “See those?”  He pointed to Marinette’s breasts, “Those are mine.  I’m just letting you borrow them.”

“Oh my God!” Marinette laughed, pulling her cardigan closer around her.

“I just want to establish ownership.  I’m loaning them out.  I get them back in a few months.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He gasped dramatically and looked down at the almost sleeping baby, “You hear the way she talks to me, Catherine?  Such abuse.”

He walked back to the window looked out the window again for a few moments, silently patting Catherine as he rocked her, then quietly said, “I was thinking that maybe we might want to adopt a kid or two… maybe from Crime Alley… or something.  I don’t know.” He tried to keep his voice light and easy, like the thought had just come to him, like he hadn’t been thinking about this since he was a teenager.

Marinette walked up and hugged him tightly from the side and leaned her head on his shoulder, watching their daughter in his arms. He held her like he was trying to shield her, protect her from the city.  He leaned over a fraction of an inch to show he appreciated her presence. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and brushed her finger gently along Catherine’s cheek.  “I think that is a brilliant idea.  I’d like that too.”  She looked out over the city along with him for a few more moments.  “I still want to practice for more kids though.”

He shot Marinette a devilish grin and leaned down to kiss her. “What do you think the odds of her staying asleep if I put her down?” He whispered against her lips.

<><><><><> 

Jason was laying on the floor in front of Catherine while she worked through Tummy Time, cooing encouraging words to her and rubbing her back every so often to let her know he was there with her, when there was a knock at the door.  Marinette turned off the video Jason hadn’t seen her taking and jumped up to answer the door.  She quirked her head to the side in well-acted confusion, “Hey, I thought it was just Duke coming over.”

“Thought I’d give him a ride,” Adrien shrugged, walking past her to say hi to Catherine.

Marinette smiled at Duke and gave him a hug as he came in.  “From the manor?”

“No,” Duke responded with a smile.  “From your office.  Apparently Dick assumed you would be in the office today and Alfred had already left to run errands, so Adrien offered to bring me over.”

“Awfully thoughtful of you,” Jason said quietly to Adrien with a wink.  Jason stood up and picked Catherine up, handing her over to Adrien.  “Actually, this is perfect.  I was just walking out to go to work so you can entertain Catherine while she’s working with Duke.”

Jason gave Catherine a last kiss on the forehead and turned to give Marinette a quick peck on the lips and a slap on the ass before leaving.  Marinette turned bright red.  “Sorry,” she said quickly to Adrien and Duke. She took a deep breath and turned to Duke, “Come on, let’s get your measurements and we can start talking about style for your suit.”  She thought for a few moments. “Actually, Adrien can you take his measurements while I feed Catherine?  That way Duke won’t have to just hang around while I’m nursing.”

Adrien looked up at her with wide eyes and glanced quickly over to Duke, a blush already spread across his face imagining all the contact he would have with Duke while taking his measurements. “Uh.  Are you sure?  You usually like to do that yourself.”

“Only if it is okay with you both. She could probably wait a few minutes.  I just thought it would save time.”  She shrugged.

Duke and Adrien looked awkwardly at each other for a few moments before Duke spoke up, “I’m fine with whichever.  You are both really good at your jobs so whoever makes more sense to do it, is fine.”

“I… I can do it then.” Adrien answered with a quiet smile.

Marinette smiled at them and took Catherine into her bedroom to nurse.  When she returned with a freshly fed and burped baby, Duke and Adrien were standing rather close to each other, unnecessarily touching each other’s arm from time to time.  Marinette smiled to herself and took a quick picture to send to Dick along with a thumbs up.

She worked with Duke for another hour or so discussing suit styles and colors, sketching a few rough ideas for him to choose between. Adrien spent the entire consultation entertaining Catherine until she fell asleep in his arms.  Marinette caught Duke sneaking glances at Adrien holding Catherine, a soft smile on his face, whenever she stopped to sketch an idea or write a note.  When they were done, Alfred knocked at the door to take him home.  But while Duke was thanking Marinette and saying goodbye to Adrien, Alfred had made his way to the couch holding Catherine and bouncing her in his arms, speaking quietly to her.

The three watched them with a smile.  Marinette leaned over to Adrien and Duke and whispered conspiratorially, “I don’t think Alfred would object if you decided to go out for lunch.  And if you happened to take a while during lunch, so he has an excuse to spend more time with Catherine, I don’t think he would be upset.  He was saying the other day he doesn’t feel like he gets to see her as much as he would like.”

Duke and Adrien looked at each other with smiles. “Yeah, I think we could do that. What are you in the mood for?” Duke asked.

“Let’s walk around and see what looks good.” Adrien responded with a beaming smile.

Marinette closed the door after they left.  “Did it work?” Alfred asked without looking up.

Marinette smiled back.  “Like a dream.  Thanks Alfred.”

“No problem, Miss Marinette.  I’ve got money riding on this too.” He smiled back.

<><><><><> 

A few nights later, Duke showed up at their door again.  Marinette answered the door with Catherine in her arms and another well-acted look of confusion, “Hey, Duke.  What are you doing here?”

Duke looked at her unsure, “Alfred said he couldn’t make it?  He asked if I would come and babysit for you instead.  He said you said it was okay?”

“That was me he talked to.” Jason said walking in the room. He was dressed nicer than Duke had seen him dress in a month or two.  His face was actually shaved and his hair combed.  “Sorry I forgot to pass on the message.”

Marinette looked back at Duke with a smile, “Actually this is perfect.  I asked Adrien to watch her since Alfred couldn’t do it but Adrien is still a bit nervous around Catherine.” She leaned in like she was revealing a secret, “He thinks he’s going to drop her if nobody else is around.  Having you here will help him feel better.  If you are okay with it?”

Duke rubbed the back of his neck as a slight blush dusted his cheeks, “Yeah, I mean… sure, yeah.  I can do that.  I’m happy to help.”

“Great!  I’ll let Dick know he doesn’t have to swing by during patrol after all.  Actually, can you take her now so I can get finished dressing?”

Duke shot her a big smile, “If you insist.” He took Catherine and cooed quietly at her.  “Hey darling, how are you doing today?”  Catherine gurgled back at him and stared in anticipation, waiting for him to make more noises at her.

A knock sounded at the door.  Jason answered it and let Adrien in.  Adrien walked in with a smile.  His smile faltered when he saw Duke.  “Hey.  Sorry, was I not supposed to watch her tonight?”

Jason sighed, “Marinette asked you and Alfred asked him and I slept through Alfred telling me.  Sorry, Catherine was up a lot last night and remembering things is hard. Honestly, I’m considering just going to the manor for a night to get sleep at this point, but breastfeeding makes things difficult for Pixie to get sleep even if Catherine wasn’t with us, so it wouldn’t help her.  So you two are co-babysitting, if you don’t mind.”

Adrien grinned widely.  “I’m fine with that.  We’ll have fun.”  He walked over to Duke and Catherine and leaned over to look at Catherine’s face, standing closer than necessary to gush over his niece.  “Hey Kitty Cat.  You ready to have some fun with your uncles?  Once we get rid of the boring stiffs.”

Jason looked affronted.  He turned to Marinette, “boring?”

“It’s okay.  He’s just trying to act cool.  We all know you’re cooler.”  She cooed at him with more than a touch of patronization.

“Excuse me.  Of the two of us,” Adrien motioned between himself and Jason, “which one has ridden a dragon?”  Jason rolled his eyes.  “That’s what I thought.”  He looked over to Catherine and Duke and pointed to himself with a knowing grin, “Cooler.”

Duke smiled back at him with a blush.  “Sounds pretty convincing to me.”

Adrien slung his arm around Duke’s shoulders and smiled smugly at Jason.

Jason glared at the two of them, “Which one of us has actually come back from the dead?”

“Oh, Sweetie, that’s not a contest you’re going to win against him.” Marinette clapped him on his back.  She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder.  “Come on, let’s go on our totally not boring date so we can get home in time to have an exciting night of sleeping before you get up early to check and see if there are any new books in the library, you wild man, you.”  Marinette grinned at him.

“You,” Jason shook his finger in her face and glared at her playfully, “are declaring war.”  

She giggled and opened the door for him.  “Have fun you guys.  Oh, and there is some wine in the refrigerator if you want some.” She called out as she closed the door behind them.  

Duke and Adrien looked at each other and smiled awkwardly.  “Want to order pizza?” Adrien asked.

A few hours later, after a totally not boring date, Marinette and Jason quietly unlocked the door and slipped in unnoticed.  They looked around to see where Catherine was and found her happily gurgling at the mobile above the pack ‘n play in the living room while Adrien and Duke snuggled up together asleep on the couch.  Some movie was playing quietly on the television. “Night seems to have gone well,” Jason observed quietly, nodding to them.  

Jason gently kicked Duke and Adrien to wake them up and looked over to the pack ‘n play when Marinette started giggling at it.  “What did they do?” He asked warily.  He walked over to see his daughter in a Signal themed footie outfit and a black beanie with cat ears.

“Kitty Cat looks pretty good, don’t you think?” Duke asked behind him with a smirk.

Jason shook his head and groaned, “I can’t believe we handed that nickname to him.  And now Duke is doing it, too.”  

Marinette smiled and kissed his cheek. “He was going to find a way to make a pun of her name no matter what.”  Jason sighed, picked up Catherine, and started to change her diaper, making cooing noises at her while he did.

“I have to head out.  I’ll see you guys later.” Duke nodded to Jason and kissed Marinette on the cheek who then thanked him for helping.  He turned to Adrien and gave him a hug and whispered something to him that made Adrien blush before he headed out the door.

“So, how did it go?” Marinette asked lightly, taking layers off to prepare to nurse Catherine.

“It went fine.  She was an angel.”  Adrien answered with a lovesick smile.

“And between you two?  You looked awfully cozy when we got home.”  She shot him a knowing smile.

“It went pretty well.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “I’m hoping it will go even better tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked with a quirked brow and an excited smile.

“On our date.” He said shyly.

She squealed quietly as she hugged him.  “That’s so awesome.  Good luck! Let me know if you need anything. And thanks again for tonight.”

“I will.  And thank you.  Night. And especially to you, Kitty Cat.” He gave Marinette a kiss on the cheek and hugged Jason before leaving.

Jason locked the door behind him.  “Proud of yourself?”

“Yep.  Proud and really excited.  I hope they find as much happiness as we have.” She looked adoringly into his eyes. “They deserve it.”

“Nobody deserves to be this happy… except maybe you and Catherine.” He leaned against the back of the couch and pulled Marinette close.  

“You do,” Marinette said quietly stroking his face gently before she snuggled into his chest, holding Catherine between them. “You deserve to be happier.”

He wrapped them in a warm, protective embrace, planted a kiss on the crown of her head, and sighed contentedly.  “That isn’t possible.”  

 @redboy-1515

#maribat #jasonette #Covert Jasonette #Adrien x Duke

[flamencodiva]

Hunter Encyclopedia: I’m a Fan

Description:  Y/N has traveled the world and faced every kind of monster imaginable which is why the nickname Hunter Encyclopedia, or H.E. for short has stuck.  She grew up in the hunting business and knew all about the Winchesters and read the Carver Edlund books before they came to ask her for help. Sam is the researcher and Dean is the action man, or at least that is what she thought, but could she have been wrong?

Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventual), Sam x Reader (Platonic Friendship) 

Warnings: Supernatural level Violence. 

A/N:  written for @spndeanbingo​ 

Square filled: Fangirl Moment 

Word Count: 5101

A/N 2: Dividers by @talesmaniac89​ Beta’d by @emoryhemsworth​ and a special thanks to @waywardbeanie​ for the amazing summary! 

Y/N Y/L/N sat in the corner of the hunter’s bar, her fingers curled around the glass holding her drink. She was nose deep in her book unaware of the world around her. She was engrossed in a bit of Greek literature; her trip to Athens had proven to be very helpful. Not only did she find very rare ancient tomes, but she was also able to find some new research on monsters that seemed to have become a new breed. Furiously writing in her already full journal, she failed to notice the two hunters who seemed to have been looking for her. 

“Y/N Y/L/N?” the voice called hesitantly. 

“Who’s asking?” she asked before looking up. Her eyes went wide with recognition as she studied the two hunters. 

“Hi, I’m—” 

“Sam Winchester,” she interrupted standing up to shake his hand. Y/N’s chair fell down from the force of her standing up in excitement. “Wow, I mean… holy… you’re a legend!” she gushed. 

Sam let out a small bashful chuckle as he blushed, “Wow, guess reputation precedes me, this is—” 

“Oh yeah, Dean,” she brushed off. “Right, another legend.” 

The older Winchester frowned slightly at the way she brushed off his introduction and looked between his brother and the so-called ‘Hunter Encyclopedia.’ At least that’s what many of the hunters they encountered had called her: Y/N Y/L/N, a hunter who not only was skilled in killing and maiming monsters and sending demons back to hell, but she was also a human hunter encyclopedia. He’d heard Bobby mention her before, once or twice, but he never really thought anything of it. 

“How can I help you guys?” She asked blushing at her own behavior. To be fair, she never really thought that she was famous for anything, or at least not anything that would attract the Winchesters, let alone Dean and his brother. 

“We were told that you could tell us about a new monster that seems to have popped up?” Sam asked as he helped her with her chair. 

“Depends,” she shrugged before taking a sip of her drink. “I just got back from Greece and made out like a bandit!” she smiled excitedly at the younger Winchester. If her own research was correct, he was the one who enjoyed research more than the older one. “I have this new tome I found! Well, not new, but it was discovered in an old catacomb.” 

“Really?” Sam’s interest was piqued. “Would it be alright if I took a look?” 

“Absolutely, I’m sure Dean can handle himself, I just saw a pretty blonde girl come in,” she said offhandedly. 

Dean let out a small scoff, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Y/N rushed out. “It’s just, you aren’t really known for your enthusiasm for research. I figured your brother and I could do our thing and you could do yours.” 

Dean opened and closed his mouth at what she said, “I—” 

Before he could say anything more, he watched as Sam left with her and his frown deepened. 

“Research isn’t your thing,” He mimicked. “Who does she think she is telling me that—” his words fell from his lips as he noticed the blond at the bar smiling at him. “I mean she isn’t wrong, but I mean I can research. I’m not dumb,” he said to himself, pouting slightly. “I just like to have fun that’s all. Life isn’t all about books.” 

He licked his lips as he looked at the blond before sighing. Was that all he really was to the hunter community? A playboy who could kill monsters better than the rest of them? Shaking his head, he took a sip of his beer and sighed. He really didn’t feel like talking to the blonde. His mood was soured and he wanted to prove little Ms. Encyclopedia wrong. 

With Sam, Y/N had placed the different tomes she brought back from her trip on the small kitchenette table in her room. 

“Wow,” Sam marveled at their pristine condition, “I mean these are—these look to be—” 

“They are from around 400 B.C.E,” Y/N chuckled, “and the information they hold is astounding!” 

“So these are all—” 

“Accounts of the mythological heroes we’ve all heard about? Yeah,”  she gushed again. “I mean, I’ve heard about you guys saving Prometheus and meeting actual Greek gods, but wow!” 

“Well, I mean, we tried to keep it civil,” Sam argued. “All Zeus had to do was let Prometheus go,” Sam chuckled. 

“Have you read the stories about him?” Y/N giggled. “Dude thinks his cock is the best thing in the Pantheon of Gods. Guess he forgot that the Titans are bigger,” she laughed before pointing to a small line. “This right here states that Echidna, the mother of monsters, still creates new monsters almost every decade.” 

“Seriously?” Sam asked as he read the line. 

“As a heart attack,” she chuckled. “I mean, I’m sure it’s nothing like how Dean was able to kill Eve, but—” she paused when Sam looked at her. “What?” 

“Sorry, it’s just, back at the bar you seemed like you didn’t really care about Dean,” he clarified. 

“Oh! That, well I guess,” Y/N paused and bit her lip, “he’s a bit intimidating? I mean, don’t get me wrong, he is an amazing hunter, you both are! But with his knowledge of weapons and electronics and the fact that he went to literal Hell and back… I mean, he wouldn’t want to listen to someone like me drag on about books and research.” 

“I went to Hell and came back too,” Sam pointed out. “You know all this about Dean so, what gives?” 

“Oh,” Y/N blushed, “I-it’s just… You’re easier to talk to, and me? Well, I’m the ‘hunter encyclopedia.’ There is no way Dean ‘lady’s man’ Winchester would ever think to talk to a nerd like me.”  

Sam hid the smirk that came on his face, “Huh, so I take it you’re kind of a fan?” 

“I mean, who wouldn’t be? The stories that I hear from dive bar to dive bar,” she chuckled. “Want a beer?” She inquired walking to the fridge, reaching for one. He shook his head and she grabbed one for herself and shut the fridge door. “I mean, you two have been the epicenters of anything and everything that goes bump in the night.” 

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, “that’s been a bit of a struggle.”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to… It’s just you guys have encountered things that not many hunters ever encounter. The amount of research and documentation that you could do about what you’ve experienced alone could fill books for future hunters!” 

Sam nodded, “I bet it would.” 

Y/N was about to say something when a knock interrupted their conversation. She looked at Sam who shrugged before they both reached for their guns ready to attack whoever might be knocking. As a hunter, one could never be too careful with who or what could knock on your door. Looking through the hole, Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked back at Sam. 

“It’s Dean,” she told him before holding her gun firm. “You can check him if you want, you know him better than I do.”

Stepping back, she let Sam check him out before allowing him to enter. Y/N smiled at Dean and waved.

“Sorry, was I interrupting anything?” he asked, looking between Sam and Y/N. 

“Not really,” Sam chuckled knowing Dean’s meaning. “We were just discussing the fact that our lives should be documented for future hunters.” 

“Yeah, that would be an entire volume of encyclopedias,” Dean muttered as he looked at Y/N. “So anything interesting?” 

Y/N shrugged as she walked over towards the table and away from Dean. “I mean. nothing really. I just told your brother how these tomes are actually accounts of the heroes of Greek mythology.”  

“You’re shitting me,” Dean said as he walked over to the tomes and frowned when Y/N gathered them up. “What?” 

“You wouldn’t be interested in them anyway. They’re pretty boring for someone like you.” 

“What do you mean?” Dean’s anger rose but was interrupted by Sam. 

“We were wondering if you found anything in your research that could help us with some new monsters that seemed to have popped up?” 

“Oh yeah!” Y/N smiled at Sam, once again brushing off Dean. 

The older hunter clenched his jaw as he glared at the woman in front of him. Who the hell did she think she was? She fawned all over Sam and barely paid him any attention. Dean was baffled by it. He couldn’t understand why this girl only saw him as some sort of playboy meathead, who didn’t like reading. He could read; in fact, Dean loved to read when Sam wasn’t looking. It was how he knew about the Greek monsters and gods. He may not be well versed in different languages like Sam was, but he knew legends and stories better than his brother. 

“So what is it you guys are looking for?” Y/N asked as she grabbed her hunter’s journal. 

“Well, for now, all we have to go on are visual accounts,” Sam said as he pulled out his laptop. “They keep describing a ‘serpent-like dragon.’” 

“Serpent-like dragon? You mean a dragon that moves like a snake?” Y/N asked hurriedly as she flipped through a book. “I mean, for all we know, it could have been a huge ass snake and people are overreacting.” 

Dean smirked. “That’s what I said, but then if you think about it, there is Ladon,” He pointed out. 

Y/N snapped her head up and looked towards Dean. “How do you know Ladon?” 

“Jason and the Argonauts, not to mention the fact that the story of Heracles depicts one of his tasks as retrieving the golden apple which is guarded by Ladon,” Dean offered her a wink. “I tend to favor Greek mythology, sweetheart.” 

Y/N blushed as she moved her hair behind her ear. “Oh, right,” she cleared her throat and looked to Sam. “It might need some investigating, but I’m sure you two can—” 

“Come with us,” Sam offered. 

“Huh?” Y/N was taken off guard as she looked at the haze eyed hunter. “I—that sounds great, but I don’t think it’s a good—” 

“What is it, sweetheart? You scared to be hunting with the famous Winchesters?” Dean boasted as he smirked at her. 

Y/N frowned at him, wondering what he was trying to do. “Look, I may be the ‘hunter encyclopedia,’ but I’m not scared of anything. You two are more than capable of finding out if this thing is a glorified snake or actually Ladon. I would be dead weight.” 

“Y/N, you aren’t just known for being a researcher,” Sam interjected. “You’ve taken on a ton of different monsters, monsters even Dean and I haven’t heard of or faced.” 

“That was nothing,” Y/n argued. “You don’t need me, I’m dead weight.” 

“Tell you what,” Dean walked up to her, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can help with the research, I’m sure we could use your brains at some point.” 

“A phone is easy to use,” she tried to dodge Dean and sighed when he blocked her. “What happened to the blonde at the bar? She looked more like your speed.” 

Y/N was irritated that Dean was pushing this. Why was he adamant that she join them? Was he trying to prove something to her? 

“Nothing happened with the blonde at the bar,” Dean scoffed, “but if we have a monster and you can identify it, why not help us get rid of it?” 

Y/N bit her lip in thought. “Fine,” she decided. “Just let me pack up and I’ll follow you in my car.” 

“Dean?” Sam looked at his brother as he continued to shift his gaze from the road to the rearview mirror. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Dean muttered, “just making sure she’s following us.” 

“She is,” Sam pointed out. “So, a quickie in the bathroom or the backseat?” 

“Huh?” Dean raised his eyebrow in confusion, “What are you—” 

“The blonde that Y/N pointed out to you,” Sam clarified. 

“Oh, I didn’t,” Dean huffed, “Didn’t want to give Hunter Encyclopedia the pleasure of trying to dictate who I am to me.”

“Dean,” Sam chuckled, “you always tap a girl at the bar if they catch your eye.” 

“Well, I wasn’t in the mood this time,” Dean huffed. “Besides, Y/L/N seems to be your fan more than mine, Mr. Researcher.” 

“Me?” Sam titled his head in confusion and laughed. “You think… You realize she knows about us and is a fan right?”

“Maybe that’s her problem, she listens to the stories,” Dean mumbled. 

“Are you not a ladies man?” Sam asked curiously as to his brother’s answer. 

“Of course I’m a ladies man Sam, look at me,” Dean defended. “Women can’t keep their hands off me.”  

“Wow,” Sam let out another chuckle mixed with a huff. “Then I guess you’re going to prove to her that what, you love research? Come on Dean, you only research if you have to.” 

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Of course, Sam would think that. He had kept the façade up for a long time. It just made sense to make sure that Sam had a better future than he did. Of course, he would never admit to going through the various books on Greek heroes in the bunker. Then again, Dean loved the ancient stories of the heroes. He wasn’t too well-versed in the world of the gods, that much was proven when Sam had to explain Prometheus. So to counter, Dean ended up reading everything he could find on the Greek gods and the stories they told. 

 “Doesn’t mean I’m just a dumb meathead,” he grumbled. 

“You’re mad she read you like an open book,” Sam realized as he turned to look at his brother. “You’re mad that she brushed you off.” 

Dean let out a scoff with a slight high pitched squeak, “No! I— I don’t— I’m not mad. Just—”

“Look, obviously I can’t give advice to a ‘Ladies Man,’” Sam said as he looked towards the road, “but if you want her to look at you twice, you better crack open a couple of books in front of her and talk to her about what you are reading.”

“I read, Sam,” Dean defended, “but you’re right, maybe reading in front of her will show her I’m not a dumbass.” 

“Well, I mean you’re a bit of a dumbass,” Sam jabbed. 

“Bitch,” Dean spat with a smirk. 

“Jerk,” Sam shot back as they sat in comfortable silence on their way towards their next hunt. 

Reaching their destination, Dean watched as Sam headed to the motel office to get two rooms. He saw Y/N in her car, scribbling in her journal. From the looks of the damn thing, Dean could tell she had filled it close to the brim. He wondered if she needed a new one. He couldn’t help but smirk at the way her nose crinkled when she read her journal. It made him wonder what she was reading that made her make that face. 

“Dean,” Sam interrupted his thoughts, “I got our keys.” 

“Okay, let’s settle in and see what we can find.” Dean climbed out of the car just as Y/N did. 

“I’ll go—” she stopped when Sam tossed a room key at her, “you didn’t have to—” 

“Consider it a way to say thank you for helping us,” he insisted as he grabbed his bags and walked towards the door to his and Dean’s room. 

“You know,” Dean licked his lips as he walked up to her, “you could get to know the real me and not just what you’ve heard in the stories.” 

“I’m good,” she breathed. “The stories are a good learning tool. Besides, I’m not your type, and Sam and I should start researching. You can relax and find entertainment.” 

Before Dean could counter her words, she was rushing to her room, closing the door behind her. 

“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. What was it going to take to get this girl to talk to him?  

Dean adjusted his bag and made his way to his room, grumbling under his breath about taking a shower. Sam smirked a bit, wondering what transpired between his brother and the girl who was crushing on him but too shy to speak out. After a few minutes, Dean walked out fresh and ready to investigate. Sam was ready to head over to Y/N’s room to piece together any clues they could find. With Dean hot on his heels, Sam knocked on Y/N’s door to see her ready for action. 

“Let’s investigate and then you and I can read the tomes to see if we can find other clues to help us,” she dictated. “If it is Ladon, it should be an easy kill, clean shot to the head like the legends all say.” 

“And what will I do?” Dean asked, still annoyed at being left out. 

“Oh,” Y/N looked at him as if it was the first time she noticed him there. “I-I’m not sure, what do you usually do when Sam is researching? I’m sure there is a bar out there for you to find something to fill the void after we get some clues.” 

“I’m getting real sick of that,” Dean growled. 

“Huh?” Y/N looked at him in confusion. “Sick of what? I mean, you are a great hunter, you’re skilled in being able to analyze a situation and patterns, but I know you don’t like sitting in a dusty room reading book after book.” 

“Lady, you don’t really know what I’m like,” Dean continued. 

“So you didn’t spend four months in Hell, which is equivalent to forty years?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion. 

“No, I did that,” Dean confirmed. 

“Okay, what about your trip to Purgatory? I mean was that just a tall tale or—” 

“I’m not talking about everything I’ve done, I’m talking about you treating me like a dumb jock because I don’t enjoy reading as much as you,” Dean snapped.  

“I never said you were dumb,” Y/N glared at him, “you made your very own EMF out of a Walkman, correct?” she interrogated, walking up to him. 

“What does that have to—” 

“And didn’t you create an EMP device that wiped out the hard drive of a group called the Ghostfacers?” she asked, continuing her line of questioning. 

“Look, all I’m trying to say is—” 

“And how many times have you had to rebuild the Impala? Five? Ten? Fifteen times?” she pushed on, getting closer and closer to Dean with every question. 

“Look, whatever you’re trying to do—” 

“You are smart, Dean. But you aren’t the kind of guy to sit around and listen to two people talk about lore, myth, and other boring mundane things. You are someone who would much rather actually spend their time doing things with their hands and making sure that plans work perfectly. You’re an engineer; you may not be book smart,” she poked at his chest, “but you are mechanical smart. If my words hurt you, then I’m sorry, but you are who you are and you shouldn’t change that just because I was able to find more common ground with your brother than you.” 

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. Most of the things she listed, he wasn’t even sure people had heard about, but it seemed that word of the many things he’d built over the years had made their way out there, much like the stories of his deaths and resurrections. He watched as she talked to Sam and licked his lips. Yeah, Y/N Y/L/N was going to be an interesting nut to crack. He wondered what having her as a friend would be like, and maybe Sam was right: maybe he could show her that he was more than just mechanical smart. He watched her walk away, leaving their small argument at that. She knew things about him. It made him smirk that she paid attention to his accomplishments, but he was going to prove to her that he was able to hold a decent conversation.

Making their way to the forest, Y/N had one of the tomes on ancient monsters. She and Sam had tried to find some specific clues that would lead them to the supposed Ladon. It wasn’t until Y/N grabbed Dean’s arm to stop him and to try and warn Sam that things took a dark turn. As they began to walk farther in, Y/N could see three figures dancing along the trees at dusk and it clicked: the Nymphs of the Evening; Aigle, Erytheis, and Hespere. 

“Sam,” Y/N whispered, “stop.” 

“Why does he need to stop?” Dean asked as he tried to reach for Sam. 

“Because those are Nymphs, and they aren’t just any Nymphs. They’re the Evening Nymphs, said to roam the garden of Hera or what the legend says is the Garden of the Hesperides, essentially—” 

“Hera’s Orchard,” Dean finished. “Sam,” he called out, “Sammy, get back here!” 

“But they’re singing Dean,” Sam gave him a dreamy smile. 

“Damn it,” Y/N flipped through the tome and sighed. “Here,” she gave Dean a bronze knife. “Prick his finger and let the blood  drop on the grass.” 

“Why?” Dean questioned, but took the knife nonetheless.

“I mean, a blood offering on grass,” Y/N shrugged. “They’re Nymphs taking care of the garden in a way, so a blood offering would make sense.” 

Dean nodded as he grabbed Sam’s arm and held out his hand, the point of the knife pricking his brother’s finger. The drop of blood began to pool. Pulling Sam down, Dean made sure that the blood landed on a blade of grass. It took a minute, but Sam began to shake out of his daze. 

“What happened?” he asked, blinking his eyes a few times. 

“Nymphs,” Y/N and Dean echoed. 

Dean didn’t see it, but Y/N blushed as they spoke at the same time. The way he knew they were in Hera’s Orchard made her wonder what other secrets the hunter was hiding. Every bit of information she knew about him pointed to the fact that he hated research, yet here he was reciting lore and understanding what was happening in his surroundings. 

Clearing her throat, Y/N pointed past the Nymphs to an area that seemed to give off a sparkling glow. “Seems we should head that way.” 

“You sure?” Dean asked. 

“If we want to solve this mystery, Fred Jones, we need to keep going,” she smiled. “Grab Shaggy there so we can keep going.” 

“You like Scooby-Doo?” Dean let out as he followed Y/N, making sure that Sam was okay. 

“Who doesn’t?” she chuckled, “I’m a Velma, so no Fred is ever going to look at me,” she whispered the last part to herself, unaware that Dean caught it. 

“So, what else do you watch?” Dean checked, keeping the conversation going. 

“I’m sure nothing you would be interested in,” she brushed him off as they neared where the golden glow was coming from. 

“Why do you do that?” Dean huffed in annoyance. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N shrugged, “I’m only stating a fact.” 

“For the record, you’re making me out to sound like a shallow dick,” Dean whispered harshly as a movement in the trees made them freeze. 

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure I have a good idea as to the kind of guy you are, okay?” Y/N spat back before holding out her arm to stop him. 

“What now?” Dean grumbled. 

“Ladon,” Y/N sighed. “He’s just doing his job. He’s guarding the Golden Apples.” 

“So he isn’t a threat—” 

“Unless someone tries to steal the apples,” Y/N nodded. “We should go before—” 

The loud dragon-like roar made the trio freeze. They turned towards the tree, but Ladon was no longer guarding it. Y/N began to look around only to feel a large, log-like object swipe through her ribcage sending her crashing towards a tree. 

“Y/N!” Dean yelled as he braced himself to try and defend them from another attack. 

Sam made his way towards Y/N, while Dean looked out for the creature. Dean tried to listen to the sound of the levees rustling. If Ladon was a snake-like dragon, that would mean it would be slithering between things. It was quick, but he heard it. The leaves rustled and Dean swiped trying to at least cut the creature. Not enough to kill it, just enough to stun it so that they could get away.  

He was surprised that he was successful, and smiled when the creature recoiled and backed away. Rushing towards Sam, he motioned for his brother to pick up Y/N and follow him out of the Orchard. Once in the Impala, Dean drove them towards the motel as fast as he could. 

“How is she?” Dean asked. 

“She’s got a gash on her arm, probably from hitting the tree and sliding against it,” he explained. “We’ll know more when we get back.” 

“Yeah,” Dean muttered as he glanced at the rearview mirror. 

===============

Y/N groaned as she tried to get up, but hissed in pain. She blinked a few times to adjust to the light in the room she was in and found Dean sitting on the edge with an ice pack on her head. 

“I got it,” she muttered, trying to grab the pack from him. 

“Hold still,” Dean ordered, as he checked her over for anything else. 

“Why does my arm hurt?” she moaned in pain. “I just got knocked out.” 

“Not entirely, sweetheart,” Dean flashed her a smile. “You got a nasty gash on your arm from when you slid against the tree trunk Ladon launched you towards, not to mention your abdomen is red and you’re going to have a nice bruise there for a bit.” 

“Yippie for me,” she grunted, “You don’t have to be here you know. I told you I was dead weight.” 

“You stopped us from confronting that thing head-on,” Dean argued. “You realized where we were and what it was doing,” he continued as he inspected the stitches he’d placed on her wound. “So you called me Fred back there.” 

“Yeah?” Y/N shrugged and winced. “So you’re the Fred Jones type: handsome, great with strategy, ladies man.” 

“Velma is pretty cool you know,” Dean said as he turned towards her. “She is logical and cool-headed, not to mention she helps Fred come up with the traps,” he pointed out. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “But Freddy loves Daphne and I am no Daphne.” 

“You know, you still brush me off even though you know everything about me, things that I didn’t even know people knew. How come you’ve put me in a box and labeled me already?” Dean said as he tried to figure out the puzzle that was Y/N Y/L/N. 

She gave him a shrug. “Not hard to find the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund. I mean, I knew who you guys were because I was raised a hunter and my dad knew yours, but we never met,” she explained. 

“Oh no, you read those things?” Dean groaned as he bowed his head. “I hate those books.” 

“But they happened, right? Every story I heard from other hunters confirmed everything that happened in those books,” she pointed out, “and I have to say I got a pretty good impression of you through them.” 

“No, you didn’t,” Dean defended. “You know all these things I’ve done, but you don’t know me! Talk to me! Get to know me!”

“Why would you want me to talk to you?” Y/N shook her head, “I’m not your type, trust me. I know your type, and brainy ain’t it.” 

“You don’t know that!” Dean stood up in frustration, “I love Scooby-Doo, I watch Dr. Sexy. I’ve read The Odyssey at least five times in my life, along with the other epic tales that Homer and others have written, not to mention I love Greek heroes and their stories. I’ve read Vonnegut and Tolstoy,” he licked his lips and let out a huff before smiling. “So no, you don’t know me because those books and those people who tell stories about me only know what I show them, not who I am.”  

Y/N stayed silent as he finished his declaration and licked her own lips. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “You’re right. I don’t know you. I know of you. I just didn’t think that you would like to speak to me about mundane things.” 

“Like what?” Dean pressed. 

“Look, I know myself well enough to know that I can get extremely nerdy and people start to shy away from me,” she explained. 

“What if you’re wrong?” Dean replied. Let’s just start from the beginning. We can re-introduce ourselves.” Dean shook his body before rolling his shoulders. He turned to face Y/N completely and gave her his best charming smile, “Hello, I’m—” 

“Dean Winchester,” Y/N interrupted, chuckling at his annoyed expression, “Sorry, I would just recognize the description of the famous Dean Winchester.”  

“Famous?” Dean feigned shock, “I gotta say, sweetheart, you’re pretty famous too.” 

“Dean, I’m not—” 

“Y/N Y/L/N, an excellent connoisseur of lore and ancient myths,” he interjected, “kickass hunter who is known for taking down the Tulsa, Oklahoma wolf pack back in ‘09, not to mention the vamp’s nest up in Washington state near Kirkland.” He leaned in and gave her a wink, “Did I miss anything?” 

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest at what he said, what he knew of her. Hell, he knew about her. Licking her lips, she offered him a smile. 

“You forgot my nickname, Winchester,” she whispered. 

“That’s right, they do call you the Hunter Encyclopedia,” he teased. 

That was the start of Y/N getting to know Dean on a deeper level, not from books or stories passed down from hunter to hunter, but the real Dean, and their story was just beginning.  

HE: 2 in the Morning 

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Daminette December Day 4

@daminette-december2019-2020

Princes and Pedestals

Chapter 4 – Flowers

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“So let me get this straight,” Dick said slowly, a disbelieving look covering his face, “You two were having tea in the garden with the Grand Guardian, when a tiny floaty bug thing, that she called a “kwami" spoke to her in French. The kwami thing then put down another strange round thing on the table and out of that thing came a floating, moving picture of a girl in armour with wings, who then said things to the Guardian that upset her. Things about some man named Gabriel taking a butterfly and bringing someone back? After which other people in their own strange armor were added to the floating picture and they all spoke in another strange language at which point you guys couldn’t follow the conversation anymore?”

Stephanie made a small noise of agreement. Jason nodded, “And she said that these kwami things were bound to their miraculous, and they’re what gives them their power. The floating image thing she said was a live magic picture of the person with the other miraculous. She said the meeting was just about a mission but she looked very, very upset about it. It wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine that it involves the person she seems to be mourning. Anyone got a clue who that might be?”

Dick sat there opening and closing his mouth and Damian had trouble believing everything himself. Sure he'd grown up with the Lazarus pits and they’d known the Miraculous were magic but this was… a bit much.

Cass was sitting silently and studying everyone else while Stephanie seemed to be thinking deeply about something, probably replaying a conversation. Jason was looking around, questioningly. His father pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply.

He suddenly remembered their interaction in the throne room when she’d first arrived.

“Well, while I don’t know who, she looked upset after she caught my eye, so the person must have had green eyes,” he said thoughtfully. They all looked at him and seemed to consider it.

His father nodded, “Jason, you said in her conversation with the blonde bee lady, the woman said that the Gabriel man wants to bring back someone she simply referred to as him. So whoever she’s mourning is most likely a significant man in her life with green eyes. It’s quite likely that the man is also significant to this Gabriel and if your summary of the group she called's body language is correct, then he’s significant to them too. My best guess is that he was either family – a father or brother, a friend or a lover. It is also quite probable that he was part of their court. Jason, I need you to find out everything you can about the Miraculous Court, the Order and everything that’s happened that has anything to do with them in the last year. Dick, I want you to join him. Steph, as you have already befriended her I want you, Cass and Damian to spend some time with her. Separately and together. If his green eyes really do unnerve her Cass is most likely to see what’s going on beneath the surface. Damian is closest to her in age, and he has the green eyes. Report back what you can,”

They all nodded their agreement. Damian felt more than uncomfortable though. He wasn’t exactly known for being good with people, even less ones close to him in age. Not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the awkwardness of knowing his father wanted to arrange for them to be married.

“With that out of the way, I need all your opinions on something,” his father stated calmly, “I have a proposal that I’d like to offer the Order that I believe would strengthen our potential alliance with them,”

Damian felt the heat already rushing to his cheeks. He knew exactly what proposal his father had in mind and he had been dreading this conversation all day.

“I want to propose a marriage between us and them. Specifically Damian and the Grand Guardian Marinette,”

There were a few seconds of silence before the protests started. It warmed Damian’s heart that his siblings cared that much. Or what was left of his heat anyway.

“But we can’t just marry him off,” Cass said, probably keeping their previous conversation in mind.

“Yeah! No one wants to be pawned off into marriage. You can’t do that to him, they don’t even know each other,” Jason proclaimed loudly.

“Hold on now,” Stephanie said, frowning, “Tim and I have an arranged marriage agreement, and look how well our betrothal is working out,”

“Yeah, it’s not all bad, and she can come stay here. We can get a new sister,” Dick added, optimistic as always.

Dick's statement was one that Damian had been thinking over the entire afternoon. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. According to all the information he had, she was kind and intelligent and he didn’t need to be told that she was beautiful. They could potentially get along swimmingly. 

“But she leads a whole court! Asking her to move here is pretty unrealistic, Dick,” Jason replied, crossing his arms.

A cold shiver crawled up Damian’s spine and he froze. He hadn’t thought of that. And if the room’s silence was any indication, he wasn’t the only one.

Dick turned to Bruce, frowning, “He’s right, I know how important this alliance is but surely we could work something else out? Marriage can’t be our only option,”

Father looked around the room and sighed, “It’s ultimately my decision what we suggest and though I want Damian to stay here as much as all of you this is important. We need this alliance, probably more than they realize,” Damian felt dread weighing heavily in his stomach. A heavy silence filled the room.

“What if,” Stephanie started, seemingly thinking out loud, “What if we just asked?”

Everyone looked up at her and Damian could feel the desperation flowing off of him, he couldn’t imagine having to uproot his whole life. Again.

She met his gaze and his clearly frantic look must’ve been enough to convince her to expand on her idea.

“I mean she’s got magic, and if based on what I could gather from out conversation, the Miraculous Court are made out of people from all over the world, and they don’t exactly have a country to rule over. They just rule over matters that have to do with the miraculous and their holders. I don’t know, but I think that might be something she could do even if she lived here. And at the very least we could come up with some sort of compromise. I guess what I’m trying to say is, asking couldn’t hurt,” she spoke quickly, but everyone easily followed her words.

A few seconds of silence stretched along, all eyes turned to Father. Damian felt hopeful, maybe this would turn out better than he'd expected.

“Ok, we'll ask,” Bruce nodded, scratching his chin, “Negotiations are happening tomorrow, in the mean time please make Guardian Marinette feel welcome. Cass, Damian, why don’t you and Stephanie go show her the flower garden before sunset. Maybe introduce her to Ivy. And while you’re there, see if you can learn anything,”

Damian looked to his sisters to see Cass nodding and Steph smiling excitedly. Steph stood and grabbed both Cass and his hands, pulling them both out of their chairs and running down the hall. He went with it, knowing full well that resistance was futile. Cass laughed happily and Damian rolled his eyes but smiled fondly.

They got pulled along by the blonde until she eventually stopped, evidently tired. She let go of their hands and leaned against a wall, out of breath. The laughter still shone in Cass's eyes and Damian stared at her with a small smile, it was hard to believe that they’d only known Stephanie for a little over a year.

She stood and smiled at them, still panting slightly, “I think we should show her the roses first, they’re in bloom and we're most likely to find Ivy near there this time of day,”

Steph started walking and Damian and Cass automatically fell in beside her, she gestured wildly as she spoke, “But first we need to find her. It’s quite possible she’s already in the gardens-,”

She stopped and took a few steps back in front of a big window they’d just passed. He looked towards Cass but she simply shrugged and followed her.

Steph’s smile widened as she all but pressed her face against the window, “No way,”

Damian approached his sisters and followed Stephanie’s gaze, there in the rose gardens just mentioned stood Marinette conversing happily with Ivy over the roses. Ivy gestured to one of the roses and said something.

Marinette leaned forward and daintily sniffed the flower. She looked up at Ivy and said something, the other who nodded and smiled.

Ivy looked up and spotted them. She spoke to Marinette and after pointing them out, she waved.

The Guardian turned, gaze searching before landing on them, she smiled brightly and waved too.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his sisters return the gesture. A little too late he gave an awkward little wave. His hand hanging in the air a little too long after she’d already turned back around.

He quickly snapped out of it and turned to see his sisters smiling at him.

He glared at them. They both burst out laughing.

Steph patted his cheek, her eyes shinning mischievously, “You’re glare is a lot less impactful when you’re blushing kid. Don’t worry though, we've all been there,”

She winked at him before turning. Cass squeezed his shoulder before following after her.

He touched his cheek, it felt warmer than usual. He looked to where Marinette and Ivy were conversing.

She was just like any girl. Sure, she had beautiful black hair that resembled the night sky. And her eyes reminded him of the ocean, deep and wild and worth drowning in. And she had a high position of power - not that that mattered to him personally. And yeah maybe his heart was beating faster than normal but they’d just run from the other side of the castle, it didn’t mean anything.

So why was he blushing?

“Damian come on,” Steph yelled from the end of the hall. He turned and saw her waving him over. He shot one last glance over to where Marinette was standing before jogging over to where his sisters were waiting for him.

Maybe he was just ill.

Taglist:

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#daminette december #daminette #utp writes #flowers #i enjoyed writing this chapter #sure not really interaction buuuuut #our lil damibean has a crush #steph ships it #can't blame her #mari charming everyone #our lil sunshine child #don't fear there's plot to come #and hey this time the plot wasn't just a throwaway line woooohooo yay me #no promises for tomorrows prompt on that tho sorry but gonna do research on when exactly sweaters became a thing #or else it's gonna be a pun sorry not sorry #damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #medieval au #maribat #batman #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #jason todd #dick grayson #i forgot to add duke first chapter :'( but he'll become part of it later :-) #mlb x dc #mlb crossover #dc crossover #hope yall enjoy~ #arranged marriage au