#once tim almost caught him but he notice before it was too late

[mawrjexel]

I see people say that Damian likes classical music but that gremlin definitely likes R&B, pop and kpop, but he will never admit it, he likes music with strong instrumentals and loves songs with good bridges.

So we all know that Damian is never fully asleep and that he has a lot of nightmares and is always on his guard, sometimes when he can't sleep and is very paranoid he definitely starts listening to music and starts dancing all over his room and goes down. like at 4 am to eat (everyone goes to sleep at 3 am or leaves the manor because if they stay Alfred will force them to go to sleep) while he walks down the normal hallway while singing silently and he goes down the stairs dancing (he's a teenager, let him be)

definitely kiss of life, beyonce, ariana grande, the weekend and chase atlantic are in his 4 am playlist.

On patrol he listens to nmixx, aespa, stray kids and bts (one of his favorite songs is no more dream, fight me)

Cass introduced him in the world of kpop, she definitely knows all of gfriend's choreographies (which are terribly complicated), and she taught them to damian while they were spending charity time together because they are the only members of the "raised by league" club of assassins and later taken in by bruce wayne"

Damian also sings very good but the only ones who know that are Duke (he heard him singing and told him he sang well), Cass because he once snuck into the mansion (there was supposed to be no one there) and heard him, and Alfred because he's alfred

#once tim almost caught him but he notice before it was too late #but tim had one foot on the other side so he probably would thought that he was dreaming if he would #Idk why I put this here #let my son be a teenager #teenagers dance while listening music at 4am #I need someone to do a fic abt this #damian wayne #damian wayne headcanons #cassandra cain #cassandra cain headcanon #you can see it if pay a lot of attetion #I love her #duke thomas #just for like 1 second but he is there #that's what matters

[xxchthonicreaturexx]

Hey, I saw that your requests are open, so I was wondering if you could write what spending Valentines Day with the Greasers + Tim & Curly would be like. I honestly love your writing so much. If you don't want to do it that's totally fine, it's completely up to you.

-🤍🤍

OKIE DOKIE so this was extremely late... (I am so deeply sorry) andddd I'm going to be writing requests in a much simpler way for a while until I have all of my motivation back. Please bare with me :') 🙏

Starting with...

Darry: He's old fashioned, as I've said before. He is the Valentine's master. Flowers? Check. Nice button down? Check. Dinner reservations? Check. Pretty little necklace or something equivalent? Check. Homemade chocolate cake? Check. Foot rubs after you get back home? Duh, of course.

Had this planned for weeks in advance. Definitely ends the night with the sweetest kiss imaginable after y'all just reminisced on your first date together. Everything's somehow perfect and the boys have been oddly quiet today, almost as if they were threatened to stay far away from you guys.... 🤔🤨 hmm...

Sodapop: Another smoothass romantic, however it's not as perfect as Darry's date. Soda would definitely bring the flowers and chocolate but would probably be running slightly late due to the fact his hair wasn't working with him, or Steve caught him up chatting too long. He really means well though! The entire night his attention is completely focused on you, which is pretty good considering how easily distracted this guy can get.

Y'all go it for milkshakes <3 definitely tries to sneak some fries without you noticing but it's all in good fun. and then after the milkshake is gone he FOR ONCE won't fight you for the cherry. He usually will fight tooth and nail to get that cherry, but tonight he's just "You can have it :D". You see the way his eye twitches though...give him the cherry you heartless monster.

Ponyboy: I'm going to say something you guys would NEVER guess. You ready? Love poem. GASP. Who would've guessed? Yeah anyways, love poem, but it's so good? Like better than the shit you'd write your mom in elementary school. Our boy worked so hard on it too. His garbage can is just filled with scrapped paper and rewrites of the poem. He even accompanies it with a cute little sketch. He's not the best artist, but he certainly tried and it's so endearing too.

Other than that he's kind meh. He'll hand it over, tell you happy Valentine's day and then it's just kinda? Y'all hanging out like usual? Maybe a little more cuddly than normal. That's about it. He's very casual about the holiday.

Johnny: Sweet Johnnycakes. My boy. My baby <3 he had been a bit distant the days leading up but that's just because he had been working so damn hard. Baby boy was working at the drive in, sweeping up popcorn and stuff for some extra cash just so he could buy you that outfit you had been eyeballing. Cue him leading you to the cutest picnic you've ever seen and him handing you the gift, wrapped in a pretty little bow too. His wrapping skills are definitely not the best, but you're opening it anyways so who cares?

The sweetest thing all night. His touches are so gentle and loving and the picnic is breathtaking once y'all watch the sunset together. You guys talk a lot about the future and how far y'all have come. Cutest goddamn thing ever if you're into wholesome stuff.

Two-bit: He's exactly on the line between sexy valentines and sweet valentines. It's hard to tell if he's trying to score a home run or he's genuinely just flirting with you because it's a cute holiday.

Probably gifts you some cute lingerie as a joke. As a "joke" 🙄 you can see right through him, though he does get a kick out of your reaction. A part from him genuinely being a bit of a perv he is actually very loving with you and will definitely take you out to go downtown shopping... "Shopping." We all know he'll sneak a few things off the shelf for you without you noticing <3

Steve: He's a bit of a dummy <3 genuinely forgot. Like- he tries his best but the day completely slipped his mind. Don't worry though! The boys made sure to remind him before he saw you though! He doesn't have anything planned out, but he does stop to grab some flowers and a cake. Was the cake necessary? Nah but it was a nice gesture.

Kinda similar to Johnny, you guys have a nice little picnic in the back of his truck, however his was a lot less plannes out and much more impulsive. There was no blanket or fancy drinks, but there was coke bottles, cake, and a lot of laughing, so he totally made up for it.

Dallas: Haaaa did you think you'd get out of this alive? I'm kidding. Dallas is slightly similar to Tim, but more so he's just not a mushy lovey guy. There's no huge declaration of love or some big gift giving ceremony. He will, however, put his chain around your neck and then tug on it to pull you into a kiss.

Definitely not getting away unscathed. You will have an insane amount of marks left on you, but hey man, it's Valentine's day so 🤷 what did you expect? Definitely the type to be in bed all day, though not necessarily in an NSFW way. Sure, that's a huge plus, but he's also pretty content with you tucked into his arm as he listens to your heartbeat.

Tim: He didn't forget, he just was hoping you didn't remember. Sorry to the Tim lovers, but he sees Valentine's as an extremely pointless holiday. And I mean...? He's kinda got a point but then again, it's still nice to spend the day with your significant other, soooo.... But anyways, like I said he didn't forget. He actually has a small gift for you just Incase you brought it up, though if you don't he'll pretend like he just so happened to think of you when he was out.

He's not all mushy or lovey dovey, but if you happen to remind him he will give you some of the sweetest kisses you've ever gotten for him just so he can shut you up. And maybe if you're good, he'll take you to do something fun later on in the night like dancing. Though, if you're not the type to go dancing at an actual club (is that what they're called in the 50's????) Then he has no issue swaying back and forth with you in the living room as the radio softly plays in the background.

Curly: Actually really good with Valentine's surprisingly. He saw how ruined his parents relationship was at a young age, so even though he's a hood he still makes sure to be the best boyfriend he absolutely can be. Gets you some flowers. However, by that I mean he's actually one of the guys that takes the time to go out to the park and pick the wildflowers for you. Yeah... you're not actually supposed to do that, of course, but hey. Free flowers that he handpicked? Good enough!

Begs Tim to let him borrow the car so he can take you joyriding at night. It's extremely fun, though after y'all are done burning rubber, it'll easily turn into a nice little cruise while his hand rests on your thigh and your song is playing on the radio. <3

#the outsiders #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #steve randle #two bit mathews #dallas winston #tim shepard #curly shepard #valentine #Late Valentine's post #x reader #request

[drrealityslenderverse]

For the one shot request, can I request tim/brian(pre-mh) fluff if u don't mind:)

Date Night

Back to main Contents || Back to One-shot Contents

Brian leaned back in the booth, arms crossed behind his head as he eyed the shorter man sliding into the seat across from him. His stare didn’t go unnoticed and the corners of his mouth twitched upward as Tim caught his gaze and stared right back.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” The brunette rolled his eyes, shrugging off his coat. 

“Maybe I will. I think you look good on camera.” “Not as good as you.” 

A short laugh escaped. “Well duh, I am the star after all. I have to look good.”

A faint pink tinted Tim’s ears and his dark eyes flickered to the menu lying on the table between them. Brian sighed and leaned forward, opening his own menu with little interest in actually looking through it; he knew what he’d order. 

After another few seconds of silence he spoke up again. “I meant it, Tim.” 

As much as he joked around about being the all important star of Alex’s student film, Brian wasn’t sure he fit in front of the camera. It made him feel awkward at times, unsure what exactly to do at times—of course part of that was the lack of instruction in the script. The fact most of his scenes lately just had him standing and reflecting or doing shorter scenes than his co-stars definitely had him questioning his acting abilities. 

Tim on the other hand, well… Brian had occasionally hung around to watch Alex film his scenes and his boyfriend almost looked like he belonged behind the camera. Maybe it was Tim’s usually stoic demeanor but it was as if he didn’t notice the camera recording him. He was certainly perfect for his character’s role. The only issue was how often Alex and Tim seemed to butt heads—Brian felt like it was getting worse as the student director grew more and more stressed about the production. 

“Guy needs to take a break.” Brian glanced out the window, watching as the daylight faded. 

“I guess.” Tim finally responded. 

Their waiter appeared before Brian could reply. After the pair gave their order and handed over the menus, they were once more left to talk in peace. 

Once more however, he wasn’t allowed to speak as Tim changed the topic. “So how was that party you went to?” 

Brian grinned and arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you shoulda come.” 

Tim gave him a look and made him chuckle; Tim was never much for parties, especially not the ones he liked—loud and full of people. It’d gone until early in the morning too, which had of course been used as a further excuse since Tim had to go to Alex’s shoot. 

“A blast. Nothing too extreme. Cops weren’t called this time.” The smile widened at the memory of a different party. “Just a typical college frat party. Bunch of people getting drunk and shouting along to loud music. They had a bonfire that surprisingly didn’t burn the house down.” 

Considering he’d planned this date, he hadn’t drank as much as some parties. It wouldn’t be fun for him or Tim if he’d been hungover today. It was one of the few times he’d been the designated driver for some of his other buddies instead of one of their girlfriends. 

His smile faltered slightly. Had Tim shuddered when he’d mentioned the house burning down or had he imagined it? Brian leaned over the table a little, reaching out to take his hand. “Something wrong?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

So he hadn’t imagined it. He wouldn’t pry. Tim always told him things when he was ready and if something truly bothered him, he’d let Brian know. “Alright then, keep your secrets.” 

He earned another eye roll for the quote.

“Hey, after this you wanna go back to my place?” He shifted back against the booth again. “I just got some new movies we could watch. Promise you’ll like them.”

“And they aren’t super long this time? ‘Cause I might fall asleep again if they are.” 

“Promise.” 

Brian wouldn’t mind if Tim fell asleep on him again though. He was a cuddler and Brian honestly found it cute. Sometimes his boyfriend would mumble under his breath, though he could never understand the words.

Their food came a while later and they continued their light banter. Most of the topics were small talk, though parts of it had circled back to Alex’s film—most complaints or worries. For a short time Brian went on about his job—he totally needed a raise considering all the people he had to deal with. Tim seemed to find his complaints entertaining. 

As they wrapped up, Brian handed off his card to pay, much to Tim’s apparent dismay. “I could’ve gotten half.” 

“I got it.” Brian shook his head. “I asked you out, I’m paying this time.” 

He gave the shorter man a reassuring nudge as he pocketed his card and took Tim’s hand to walk out. The night air was warm as they walked to their cars. Despite knowing they’d see each other in a few minutes, Brian was reluctant to let go. 

Leaning against the side of his car, Brian looked down as he pulled Tim closer. They shared a kiss before Brian pulled away and took out his keys. “I’ll meet you at my house, ‘kay?” 

“That’s the plan.” Tim lingered for a second longer before walking the short distance to his own car and following him out of the lot.

#slenderverse #marble hornets #creepypasta #tim wright #brian thomas #mh brim #marble hornets one shot #a03 fanfic #one shot #fluff #pre-mh #tumblr request

[cr1mson5returns]

Fic idea I'm tossing around...

So lemme know if you want it? Keep in mind I haven't read a comic book since 2011, so. This is pre-New 52 and anything that came after it. If that even matters anymore.

Tim hasn't been around for several days. Not on patrol, not at the manor, not at Wayne Tower, nowhere. In typical Bruce and Dick fashion, they barely notice - figure he's probably doing his own thing (he does do that a lot, these days) and he'll be back soon. He's terrible at returning messages when he's hyperfocused, and sometimes just ignores people when he doesn't have anything to say, so he'll get back to them when he's less busy than he is now.

Jason, seeing an opportunity, thinks to himself that somebody has to eat all the food in Tim's fridge. He lets himself in and the apartment is a fucking wreck. It's clear there's been a struggle here; the bathroom mirror is shattered, the kitchen table toppled over, broken glass all over the floor, the TV pierced by a few Batarangs, etc. Jason is instantly so angry at this entire family unit (but especially at himself for not even thinking to question Tim's absence) and he takes some pictures of the trashed apartment. Sends them along in a text to Dick, and then to Bruce. Says, "Maybe we oughta start looking for the kid??"

The trail is immediately cold. Tim's place isn't on the Bat-network of security systems (anymore) so Babs hits a firewall she's not comfortable trying to crack. She's not sure what happens if she breaches it; maybe nothing, maybe something weird, it's Tim, who knows? So they start trying to figure out what could've happened there and it's not entirely obvious. Dick starts up a list of enemies known to them who could want something with Tim. It's a long list, lots of work to be done. They have to split it up between them.

Tim, for his part, is not even in Gotham City anymore. He doesn't know exactly where he is, but that hardly matters to him. He's tired from a few days of too little sleep, hungry from running almost entirely on breakfast bars and the most ungodly concoction of caffeine ever created, and sore from recent injuries he didn't have the time to address properly. And besides all that, he's strapped to a chair in a dingy basement somewhere, no windows or light sources other than a single bulb over his head, and they're trying to break him. He hasn't broken out yet because the attack on his mind is exhausting and relentless. He's never met this particular psychic before - he's pretty sure, anyway - but they're pressing buttons, sensitive ones, and often. He thinks maybe it's been two days already. They comment on his strength, tell him it's impressive. "You'll break, though. Everyone does."

Tim holds out as long as he can, he really does. He shies away from the probing influence of another mind, poking at his defenses, trying to get him to crack. He doesn't know what information they want but they won't get it.

There's a laugh from somewhere behind him. Gentler than he expected, almost pitying. "Silly boy, I know everything I want to know." They bend down to whisper in his ear, hands on his shoulders, rubbing, almost soothing. "I just want you to relax a little. Have some fun."

Tim knows it's over the moment his guard slips a bit. Suddenly he's flooded, and it's warm and he's losing the tension in his muscles, leaning into the person's touch. And they know they have him now, and even as he feels his inhibitions falling away and their hold on him growing stronger, he's drawn even deeper by that invasive but enticing whisper (at his ear? in his mind? he doesn't know and doesn't care) that says, "Wouldn't it be nice, though? Just for them to see you as a threat for once."

It's been eight days since the last time anyone saw Tim and they get good news. Babs caught security footage from the penthouse at Wayne Tower. It's late at night, everyone is just going on patrol, and Tim's there, suited up. Looking for something, it seems. Relieved and a little cheerful, Nightwing volunteers to go fetch him. He lets Batman know he's in the penthouse, and Batman honestly isn't expecting the call for backup he gets less than five minutes later, Dick practically shouting on the other line for help.

The fight carries them very quickly out of the nearest window and Dick is good, these are the streets he's known for years, but he forgets sometimes Tim followed them without equipment and he doesn't think he can outrun his little brother. Tim's keeping up with every swing, every turn, every move to throw him off balance.

Jason gets there first. Fires some shots up into the air from a moving vehicle below, figures he can at least get Tim's attention or get him to stop. Dick comes over the line: "I don't see him anymore."

Tim crashes down on the hood of the car and before Jason can react there's a pipe swinging into the windshield, shattering it, and Tim's hand reaches through and jerks on the wheel and the car's crashing against the curb, up and over, into a storefront. Jason kicks at the door to open it and Tim is stalking toward him, fast, with this sinister little grin on his face like he's about to fuck Jason up. He's not sure what else to do so Jason flings a Batarang - watches as Tim smoothly catches it, reaction time still too slow to respond to the arc of Tim's arm as he throws it back and it sails back and into Jason's thigh.

Dick jumps down between them and has clearly given up on reason. Tim's not listening, anyway. Dick swings and connects with Tim's jaw, knocking him flat for a moment. Dick instantly feels a surge of guilt; he hit harder than he meant to, and he bends down to offer Tim a hand when he realizes that sinister grin is back. Tim bit his own tongue on the impact with the sidewalk, but he doesn't seem to care. Spits blood on the concrete and lunges again.

It takes almost everyone to bring him down and at least incapacitate him. When Tim is finally freed of the mind-control influence, everyone tries to bring his spirits up about it. "It's not a big deal, we know you didn't mean it."

Tim holds in what he wants to say. Slips out when it's midmorning and everyone's still asleep. Gets on the next plane out of Gotham and hides out in a safehouse the second he gets to Berlin. He tends to his own injuries there and doesn't have a phone or any way to be contacted, doesn't turn on a single computer or device that might let them know where he is. He doesn't want to tell them he meant it. That it wasn't that hard to be convinced to do all those things. He'd been hiding the more.....violent tendencies for a while, but under that influence, with the pain ebbing away and the tiredness subsiding, there was unbridled, unadulterated rage. They didn't respect him, they didn't care what happened to him, and maybe some of that feeling was the mind control but a lot of it was pent-up resentment and hurt. He kept it under wraps. Took it out on people who had nothing to do with their family, their problems. But he couldn't deny that sometimes, he really wished he wasn't so inclined to keep it quiet. And they cracked all his carefully constructed defenses, brought him into a part of himself he didn't want to think about, a part that liked it when people hit him like they meant it because it meant he could hit back with every ounce of his weight behind him. And Tim can throw his body weight around well, even when he hasn't been eating as much and sleeping as often. He thinks about how it felt to hurt his brothers, to really haul off and unload on everyone. He doesn't like that even with full control of himself restored, he still sort of feels....powerful for having done it. Like maybe now they'll see him differently, won't brush him aside as often.

Tim hides out for a while before he comes back to Gotham City.

#bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #batfamily

[blris96]

Do you think Rosalind’s storyline came to an end once she got killed or she was planning for something after her death?? Maybe it was time for her to let someone else follow her footsteps and complete what she has started because honestly this makes more sense. Her dying by only going after Bailey and Chris and she didn’t even make sure that they are dead was totally out of her character, I believe she would’ve made much more damage that will have an impact on everyone’s lives. 

Chris has the highest possibility of being evil. I don’t want him to leave the same way Ashley did, I need something big to happen after their breakup. Honestly Bailey is suspicious too, what if both Bailey and Chris are working for Rosalind and there are planning for something big but Chris will be dumped by Lucy sooner than expected which will make him do stupid shit that will make him suspicious which will piss Bailey off and she’ll try to get rid of him. I can see him going after Tim by damaging his reputation and framing him up in a crime, Tim won’t surrender and will run away because all the evidence are against him, he’ll go to his father seeking for help or a place to hide and once in his life he will make something good for Tim before dying by supporting him and having his back all the way. Lucy will be the only one who knows where Tim is and she will keep meeting him secretly to update him about the investigation, Tim will tell her that they need to stop seeing each other because he is trying to protect her which will end up with them confessing their love and sleeping with each other. Tim will show how badass he is and he will gather leads and dig deep to clear his name while the whole team will investigate in the case and they’ll find valid evidence that he is innocent which will make Chris go crazy and try to kill Tim before he gets caught. Wesley will be the one that finds out the Chris is behind all that because they work with each other lately a lot and he notices something is wrong. By the time they found out about Chris, Chris will kidnap Tim and threatens the team if they don’t do what he says he will kill Tim. Tim will manage to escape on time and shoot Chris, Chris will confess and he’ll tell him about Bailey before he dies and boom Bailey is here and she’ll shoot Tim and make it look like Chris did. By the time they find Tim he is in a critical condition and hurt badly and they won’t find out about Bailey soon but once they do Nolan will be the one who takes her down. 

Maybe I have a wild imagination but I need more action, drama and surprises. Chris being evil and Tim almost dying will make the bond between Chenford stronger. Bailey being evil will not only going to be dramatic it will also have a good impact on John’s character and we will definitely see a shift in his character which will make him more interesting. 

Unpopular opinion, I would love to see Genny (Tim’s sister) & Nolan together, I think they will be a cute couple. 

Hi lovely anon!

Alexi said indirectly point blank in a post mortem interview after that episode where she was killed that she's gone for good.

Honestly, the whole thing was anticlimatic. But, I think it's the end. I'm bummed how they ended it. Anything is possible though and that there could be another protoge out there.

I'd give an arm for some more action to be honest.

Do you write fic lovely anon? This would be a good one!

Genny and Nolan... I've never given much thought to this one. You do you lovely anon!

#B Answers Questions #ask box #tim bradford #lucy chen #chenford #the rookie #chris sanford #rosalind dyer

[marauderundercover]

A Guide to Love and Coffee Ch. 10

Come on Eileen

AO3

Prev

Marinette Dupain-Cheng didn’t ask for much in life. She’d like a permanent solution to the villain that was tormenting her hometown, but for now she would settle for the little solutions that were temporary. She had a good relationship with her friends and family. She had an amazing boyfriend and a great job. She was doing well in school. Apparently, when counting her blessings, she’d forgotten to add ‘not being kidnapped’ before she moved to Gotham. Because now, here she was, being kidnapped for the second time. It was kind of frustrating. Technically, she could (probably) break free. She wasn’t weak by any means, and she had Tikki with her as well. The problem was that Ladybug couldn’t show up on the other side of the world. Hawkmoth would notice. She didn’t doubt that the man had some kind of news alert set up for her if she appeared in news outside of Paris. But that led her to this situation. One that she did not appreciate.

“Is there a reason you’re putting me in a freezer?” She asks the man in front of her. He frowns at her.

“Aren’t you scared?” He asks incredulously. She snorts.

“Of you? No. Of the amount of work I’m going to have backed up on my desk when I get back to the office? Yes. My supervisor is out on vacation right now. Much needed, but still. That means that all of her secretarial work that she usually does is delegated to me. And believe it or not, Mr. Wayne is not particularly organized when it comes to his schedule as a CEO.” Marinette says with a sigh. It was an understatement. Trying to get him to show up for meetings (prepared and on time) was almost an entire job itself. Which was weird, considering the fact how he always seemed to be able to show up and crash her and Tim when they were hanging out at the manor.

“Well, if you’re not scared now, you will be when I turn the temperature down!” The guy threatens, though his voice waivers slightly. Marinette sighs.

“Do what you must, but this isn’t going to get a reaction out of any of the Waynes. At most, you’ll have an angry journalist hunting you down.” She says. The man frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, pausing as he’s closing the door.

“My Uncle is Clark Kent.” Marinette says. The man shrugs, obviously not afraid, and shuts the door. Once he’s gone, Marinette spares a glance at the camera in the corner. Okay. So she couldn’t transform, and she couldn’t even talk to the kwamis and ask them for help. Or advice. She shivers. Hopefully it won't be too long. Letting out a soft breath, Marinette shivers again. She’d never liked the cold. Especially cold where it was just cold for no reason. If the weather insisted on being cold, she wanted snow to back it up. Something pretty to counteract the negative feelings that the cold gave her. But there wasn’t a single snowflake in the freezer. Just the bitter cold making her eyes droop. Yawning, Marinette lets her eyes flutter shut. If she couldn’t attempt to break out, then she was going to get caught up on her sleep.

---

Conner Kent was a worrier. If anyone asked, he would deny it every time. It didn’t fit the persona that he presented for everyone else. But, it was true. He was a worrier. Especially when it came to people he cared about. Especially if those people were completely human and accident prone. He also liked to think that he’d developed a sort of sixth sense for when Marinette was in trouble. After all, she’d been like a little sister to him the entire time he’d known her. When he saw an incoming call from Tim, he knew something had happened.

“What happened?” He says, in lieu of a greeting.

“Wow, Kon. Not even a ‘hi’ or ‘hello’?” Tim asks sarcastically. Conner huffs.

“Hi, hello. What happened?” He asks. Tim lets out a breath.

“Mari didn’t show up today. And she didn’t call to let us know that she’d be late and I’m kind of freaking out because of the whole Mad Hatter really likes her thing.” Tim rambles out. Conner frowns.

“Isn’t he still in Arkham? I thought you guys could keep your villains locked down for at least a month.” Conner huffs out. Tim scoffs.

“Of course he’s in Arkham. But other Rogues aren’t. And if he’s shown any interest in her while in Arkham or while telling other Rogues, who knows- oh shit.” Tim stops and Conner feels his stomach drop.

“What?” He asks.

“She’s being held in a freezer.” Tim says quietly. That’s all Conner needs to hear before he’s dropping his phone and heading towards Gotham as quick as he can. Forgot Bruce’s stupid ‘you can’t be a hero in Gotham now just because your family is here’. That’s the least of his worries right now. Right now, he needs to focus on his little sister and finding her before she freezes to death.

---

Conner’s heart sinks as his eyes are immediately drawn to the slumped form of his cousin when the freezer door is thrown open. Rushing over to her, he tries not to panic at her lack of reaction.

“Marinette? Mari? Hey, wake up.” He says, shaking her gently. Nothing. He tries to listen, freezing as he struggles to hear her heartbeat. She couldn’t be- she wasn’t dead. Not Marinette. She couldn’t. Desperate to try and wake her up, he wraps the blanket he’d brought around her and pulls her into his arms before rushing out of the freezer. Instead of staying inside, he rushes out of the building and into the uncomfortable heat outside. It was one of the rare hot days of September.

“Kon?” He hears a voice say softly. Dick’s voice. Conner shakes his head, biting back his tears.

“She’s not- she’s fine. She has to be fine.” He says stubbornly. He glances up at Dick, glad he can’t see the pity in his friend’s eyes. He doesn’t need the pity. Because Marinette is okay. She’s fine.

“Kon, I’m not- the readings-” Dick tries to say, but Conner cuts him off.

“No. She’s fine. She’s Marinette, she’s fine.” He repeats, holding her a little closer. Dick frowns.

“I’m sorry Kon.” He says softly. Suddenly, Tim’s landing in front of him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Is she-” He starts, his voice cracking. Conner shakes his head.

“No. Marinette’s fine. She’s fine.” He insists. Before Dick can argue with him again, Marinette makes a small noise. Conner gasps, looking down at his little sister.

“Mari?” He says softly. She doesn’t answer, but shifts slightly.

“Oh my god.” Dick says under his breath before pulling out a phone. “B, she’s alive. Gonna need an ambulance on location.” Conner lets out a sigh of relief. She was alive. Marinette was alive.

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[captain-justasmalltowngirl]

Something New

It was 7:15 PM and Eleanor Bishop was due to leave work for her first date since she and Jake divorced. Actually, she should have left fifteen minutes ago, but Gibbs waits for no woman when it comes to finishing the end of case paperwork.

Ellie was just glad that she’d had the forethought to bring her date night clothes - a black dress, with sleeves, and a low neckline, paired with gold two inch heels -  with her. It meant that as soon as she cleared her desk, and grabbed her bag, she would be set to leave.

“Going somewhere so soon, Bishop?” Tony DiNozzo asked as he and Tim McGee walked around the corner of the stairs in the bullpen.

“Actually, yes, I have a date to get to,” Ellie replied.

Taking in her elegant black dress, and lightly curled hair, Tony smiled and said, “Mind if I walk out with you?”

Ellie nodded yes, and after two quick good-byes to McGee they walked to the elevator together.

“The dress looks good. First date since Jake, right? Or have you been holding out on me?” Tony asked, once the elevator doors had closed. Ellie chuckled, she expected nothing less from Tony. 

The two had struck up an interesting friendship since she had started at NCIS. Tony was always there to answer her questions, even when his answers came in the form of obscure movie references. He’d also noticed her proclivity towards food, and while he teased her, he’d started keeping a secret stash of her favorite snacks in his bottom left desk drawer for her after a particularly rough case that had the two of them working late nights in the office together for a few days.

“No, Tony, I’m not holding out, it is the first one since everything was finalized,” she replied slowly. Tony’s expression softened, as he turned more fully towards her before speaking again.

“You look absolutely lovely, and I hope you have a great time with whoever has caught your interest.”

“Tony, thank you, that means a lot.” Ellie said with a shy smile. 

The pair exited the elevator and began walking towards their cars, which they had parked next to one another that morning. Just as Ellie was approaching her car door, she received a text notification. Praying it wasn’t McGee or Abby needing something work related, she checked it quickly. It was her date. Canceling. With an audible sigh, Ellie opened her back car door and threw her bag into it. After typing out a reply that she hoped conveyed her annoyance but not too much, she looked up and realized that Tony was still there. He had opened his own car door and crossed his arms along the top of it as he watched her.

“Trouble in paradise already?” Tony asked, with only the slightest hint of humor.

“He canceled. And sure, I wasn’t super excited about him, but we were supposed to go to Ted’s Bulletin! And I was really looking forward to a nice glass of wine, pasta, and one of their homemade poptarts for dessert.” Ellie complained, once again with an audible sigh. 

Tony looked around the parking lot slowly, not quite looking for other people, but rather looking anywhere other than Ellie. He ran a hand through his hair, removed his arms from his car door, and turned to face Ellie fully, looking over at her above their cars.

“It would be a shame for you to miss out on good food, and you deserve to be seen in that dress outside of your workplace, so, would you allow me to accompany you to dinner?” He asked, almost nervously.

Raising an eyebrow at him, Ellie asked, “Are you asking me on a date, Tony?”

“I think I want to, yes,” he replied. Ellie stared at him for a second, thinking over their relationship. There was Rule 12. And Tony was a bit older than what she thought she wanted when she signed up for dating apps, but he was still a very attractive man. Ellie was surprised by his offer, but as she continued to look at him, he held her gaze, and didn’t flinch, and didn’t look away. In the last several months of their marriage, and through the divorce proceedings, Jake could barely stand to look at her, much less straight in the eyes, and it bothered Ellie. But this? An attractive man looking at her, shamelessly but not in a sexual way. Well, it made Tony intriguing.

 The pros outweigh the cons here, she thought to herself.

“Well, I think I want to say yes,” Ellie replied, slightly unsure of herself even still. Tony’s smile brightened and he moved to walk her away from her own car to the passenger side of his, where he opened the door for her as she got inside. In seconds, Tony was sliding into the driver’s seat and they were on their way to dinner.

Once seated at the restaurant, and after ordering their drinks, Ellie took a deep breath and spoke, “Tony, I’m absolutely flattered you brought me here, I really was looking forward to it, but I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity? That’s what you think this is? Bish-,” he started to say, then paused before continuing, “Eleanor, I asked because you deserve tonight, at the very least. You deserve a night where you get dressed up and look like an absolute vision, where you enjoy great food, where a man treats you like the amazing woman you are. And I was thrilled that it was happening for you, but also mildly jealous that it wasn’t with me.” Tony spoke with a shrug and a grin that Ellie knew hid his insecurities.

“You’ve never said anything like this before, never alluded to it,” Ellie said, skeptical.

“Ellie, you were married. And then you weren’t. I wasn’t going to be the guy who swooped in like a buzzard after the divorce. That might have been who I was once upon a time, but not now. I saw how hurt you were, how confused. And I was confused too. Hell, I thought I was still holding on to Ziva…but maybe, there’s room for you, too.” Tony spoke with honesty, his body language open and vulnerable.

Ellie was shocked. She was on a date with Tony DiNozzo. She might actually be attracted to him. And he had just brought up Ziva, the woman whose shadow she worked and lived in, with no prompting. Ellie glanced away, took a sip of her white wine, and slowly put the glass back on the table, before looking back up at Tony.

“I was ready to go on a date with a total stranger earlier, mostly because I just wanted dinner. I’ve never allowed myself to think about you as anything other than my coworker. I was married. I had heard the whispers about you and Ziva.” Ellie said in a measured tone. Tony nodded, and folded his hands together.

“I get it, Ellie. This can just be dinner between two friends from here. I’m not asking for anything that you aren’t willing to give me. Like I said before, you deserve a night like tonight, and I wanted to be the one to facilitate it.” Tony responded in the same measured tone, and Ellie believed him. At the root, Tony was being a good friend. He was taking care of a member of his team. And Ellie could handle that, really.

“Thank you, Tony. I think we should order and just enjoy the evening,” Ellie spoke with much more confidence than she felt.

Dinner flowed well after that exchange. The two agents talked about their favorite foods, whether or not Die Hard could classify as a Christmas movie, Oklahoma and Ohio sports, as well as how different Ellie’s childhood with all her brothers was from Tony’s. If Ellie were to consider it a first date, and rank it alongside all her other first dates, she would have to admit that it would be pretty high on the list.

Tony was charming, and likable. He knew how to actually hold a conversation. He treated the wait staff kindly. He was an active listener. They shared stories seamlessly throughout the night, and Ellie was surprised that she had so much to learn about a man that she sat across from on a daily basis.

Before either of them knew it, the time reached 11:30 PM, and their waiter came to announce that the restaurant would be closing soon. Shocked, Ellie and Tony gathered their belongings, and made to leave. As she was pulling on her jacket, Ellie noticed Tony open his wallet, and place a decently sized tip on the table, tucking it gently under the edge of a plate. She smiled to herself, but didn’t comment.

Once again in Tony’s car things got slightly awkward for Ellie. She wanted Tony to take her home, she wanted to be dropped off at her house, walked to her door, and maybe left with a kiss good-bye, instead of being taken back to her car at NCIS. She didn’t dare say anything though, and so Tony drove her back to NCIS. As they both got out of Tony’s car, he spoke.

“I definitely had a great time with you tonight, Ellie. I sincerely hope the evening lived up to your expectations, even if I wasn’t the man you originally planned it with.”

“Thank you so much, Tony. I really think I needed the evening out, and the company was pretty decent too,” Ellie replied with a slight smirk. So maybe she wanted to flirt a little, sue her. Tony started it, anyway. Leaning back against her driver’s side car door and staring at the man in front of her, dressed in his usual dark suit, Ellie felt alert and interested, as well as relaxed and soft all at once. Do all of his suits fit him like this one does?, she thought to herself.

Tony shook his head with a short laugh as he looked down at her, and ran his hand through his hair again.

“You probably shouldn’t look at me like that at work, Bishop,”. 

“Does the parking lot really count, DiNozzo?” Ellie replied quickly, unwilling to lose her ground in this game. 

“Oh, I think the parking lot counts when the boss’ truck is still parked in it,” Tony said smugly, tilting his chin in the forward direction. Stunned, Ellie straightened up and turned quickly around, her eyes locating Gibbs’ truck parked close by. Sufficiently shaken out of her post-dinner daze, Ellie was fully prepared to turn back to face Tony and say good-night. However, Tony had taken her distraction as an opportunity and moved into her personal space.

When Ellie turned, Tony was right there. His left hand came up to rest on her car behind them, and his right lifted to slowly brush her hair back behind her ear. He then used his right hand to hold her jaw as he tilted Ellie’s face up. Their eyes locked, and Ellie swallowed slowly, before nodding, to answer the unspoken question on Tony’s face. It was unmistakable - Tony wanted to kiss her. And Ellie wanted to let him.

Tony was warm. At every point of contact between their bodies, Ellie felt undeniable warmth. The kiss was slow, and calm on the outside, just a simple meeting on the lips. But Ellie was trembling. As Tony pulled away from the kiss he in turn pulled Ellie into a tight hug. Resting her head against his chest, with her arms slung low around Tony’s waist, Ellie smiled. Tony pressed a kiss to her hair before moving back and reaching to open her car door for her.

“Let me know when you make it home safely, please?” Tony asked quietly. Ellie struggled to find her words, but whispered out a yes as she got into her car.

Ellie was the first to pull out of the parking lot, and only after making her way inside her apartment, and changing into her pajamas does she text Tony.

I made it home safely. Thank you, again. xo

Glad to hear it. Think we can do it again sometime?

Ellie stands in the middle of her bedroom, and bites her lip. She thinks about everything that could possibly go wrong, but also about everything that could go right before she types out a reply.

Yes, please.

#ncis #tony dinozzo #ellie bishop #tim mcgee #gibbs #ncis fanfiction #tony x ellie #rare pair #writing #ziva david #i dont even know #it just happened #first fanfiction #hope you like it #Ellie x Tony #tellie #first date #Sydney writes

[ificouldhelpyouforget]

[21] We'll Be Okay (Tim Riggins x OFC)

MASTERLIST | DWHI MASTERLIST

Warnings: angry mom and getting kicked out again

Words: 1.5k

I started to worry the more nights Tim came home late. He looked guilty every time he walked through the door. I thought it was from the late night shifts, but the guilt didn't go away when he'd leave in the morning. Something was wrong.

I stopped Tim one morning by blocking the door. Skeeter's ears perked up, waiting to see if we were going to play. Tim didn't meet my gaze.

"Tim, something is wrong and I need you to tell me what it is." I crossed my arms. "I've let the look in your eyes go on for way too long. Do you not want to work with Billy anymore?"

"No. I want to keep workin' with him."

"Then what's wrong?"

Tim sighed and turned his back on me. He ran his hand through his hair, looking at his boots. "Billy turned the place into a chop shop."

Skeeter's tags jingled as he laid his head back down.

"You know you can go to prison for that, right?"

"Billy won't listen to me, but I want us to have that land. I'm almost there and once I have it, I'm done." Tim leaned over the sink. "Billy is an idiot."

"Joining him in this isn't the smartest idea you've had."

"I know. But he's my brother."

I wrapped my arms around him. I pressed my cheek to his back. "You're a good brother, Tim, but you don't have to risk prison to get money or help your brother."

"He won't listen to me, pullin' the family card. I try tellin' him they won't have him if he gets caught... He won't let me talk, thinkin' I'm the same kid he took care of." His voice was strained. "We buried a fuckin' car frame last night, Catherine. People are gettin' nervous about the cops and backin' out. I don't want to help him anymore, but I can't let him keep doin' this alone... I can't for Mindy and his kid."

"Please let me help you with the rest of the money. I can get scholarships to help with school and loans through the government. Please just stop doin' this. We'll get Billy to stop, too. We will."

Tim nodded and went quiet. I felt his body shake in the stillness of the camper. My hold tightened.

The things that we'll do for our family.

*****

Tim and I went to the bank the following day with cash in hand. I covered the last little bit he needed and stayed passive as he handed all of it over to the woman there. We walked out with the deed to the land and with heavy hearts.

We went straight to the property, driving through the gate and up the hill a little. Tim parked and we climbed into the back of his truck. I snuggled close to him as we stretched out across the bed. Tim's eyes closed while I glanced up at the clouds.

"When are thinkin' of buildin'?" I rubbed his chest soothingly.

"Soon, I hope." He pulled me closer. "Thank you, Catherine."

I nodded against him. "I'll always be here to help, Tim. I wish you would have told me sooner... Or I would have come to you about it as soon as noticed something was wrong. I'm sorry, Tim."

"It's not your fault. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's okay. We're gonna fix this. Neither of you will go to prison and you'll get to start buildin'. We'll be okay."

Tim started rubbing my back, making my eyes close in delight. The rustling of fabric, excited birds, and the occasional car passing by were the only sounds we heard. The air settled around us, letting us feel a sense of calm.

Tim took a slow breath. "After I finish the house, would you wanna marry me?"

I shot up to look at Tim properly. He was completely serious. I couldn't find my words as I processed his. Tim Riggins wanted to settle down? With me? It was unfathomable. And the best damn thing he could have asked me.

My lower lip found its place between my teeth as a small smile crept onto my lips. "That's exactly what I want to do, Tim Riggins."

He sat up to kiss me desperately. He grabbed my hair and brought my body closer. His kisses were hungry until he slowed them, taking a passionate turn. He was out of breath when he pulled back.

I met his lips a few more times before following his jawline. I brushed his hair away to kiss his neck, nuzzling my nose at his throat. His hand in my hair tightened. I nibbled on his flesh in response.

We delayed going back home to take care of business in his truck since we had all the privacy in the world on that piece of land. It was completely different from any other time we'd been intimate. I didn't think we could surpass love, but it happened. I was still reeling when I crawled into our bed, curling up next to Skeeter.

Tim smiled, leaning over me to kiss my forehead. He hovered over my lips for a breath before I connected us gently.

"Hang on," Tim whispered as he straightened and scrounged around his things.

I watched, using Skeeter as my pillow. I smiled when he came back over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't have anything else," he said, taking my hand. He placed something heavy in my palm. "It'll have to do until I can get you the real thing."

I stared at Tim's State ring from 2006 when the Panthers won. I remembered how excited I was during that game and when I went to see him after. We weren't really close then, not like in Mexico. A lot changed after he saved me from the party that night. All for the better.

I clenched my hand around it, sitting up, and kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Tim."

He kissed my lips just as someone knocked on the door. "I'm gonna get that house built overnight at this rate," he muttered, kissing me a second time. Tim stood and peered out of the window. I saw his shoulders slump.

He opened the door. "What, Becks?"

"Wanna watch a movie?" She looked inside at me. "You can come, too."

"As long as I can cuddle with him, I'm down."

Becky grinned. "Of course."

The three of us went to Cheryl's room where the TV was. We used the bed as our couch. Tim laid out between us, wrapping his arms around me when I put my head on his chest. I put my leg over his waist.

I wasn't aware of the movie Becky put in. I was too busy playing with Tim's ring, allowing me to study all of its features. I'd need a chain for it so I could wear it. I let it rest on Tim's chest, my hand flat over his heart.

I peered over at Becky a little way into the film and saw that she fell asleep. I smiled at her peaceful face, glad that we could make her feel comfortable enough to nap in our presence. I glanced up at Tim, running my pointer finger along with his jaw, his lower lip. He smirked and kissed my finger. He brought me closer to his face to kiss me properly.

"What the hell is this?"

We sat up and Becky stirred. Cheryl stood in the doorway livid.

"You," she pointed at Tim. "Two girls in my bed? One being my fucking daughter? You're disgusting."

Tim tried explaining, but she didn't listen. Becky spoke up and was also shut down. I barely got my mouth open before she rounded on me for letting my boyfriend do something with a high school girl. I couldn't tell her she was wrong about it all.

"Get out of my house. Pack your things and go. Both of you."

I was going to snap back, but Tim took my hand and dragged me out of the house. Cheryl followed. Tim brought me to his truck, getting me inside. He glanced at Cheryl as he climbed into his side. Her arms were crossed and Becky peeked out through the screen door. Tim backed out of the drive silently.

The two of us went back to my house, dark and lonely up the hill. My parents must have left for their next long trip, once again not telling me when they were leaving. Moving away left me out of contact even more so than when I lived with them. As bummed as I was to know they didn't even say goodbye, their trip couldn't have come at a better time.

I hated how quiet Tim was as we walked into my house. I hated that he went straight into my room, stripped down to his underwear, and climbed into my bed. I changed into my sleep clothes, setting his ring on my bedside table, and crawling into bed behind him. I hugged him and left soft kisses on his back and shoulders.

"We'll be okay," I whispered.

Tim only covered my hand and squeezed. Throughout the night, his hand stayed attached to mine. It wasn't until the morning when he had to wake up that he let it go.

#fnl #fridaynightlights #friendship #highschool #love #ofc #originalcharacter #originalfemalecharacter #romance #timriggins #timrigginsxoc #tvshow #fnl fanfiction #Friday night lights fanfiction #Tim riggins fanfiction

[lily-drake]

De-Aged

Jason: holy shit- she's so tiny!

Dick: *agitated* Jason, focus, what do we do??

Jason: *coos at the baby Marinette* I haven't seen her this small in forever.

Dick: we need- Jason! Focus! what do we do???

Jason: *shrugs* wait it out? I don't know.

Inspired by @bambicambi

Annoyance coursed through Marinette’s veins as she saw the new Akuma of the day.  Of course it happened when her family came to visit.  Looking up to the sky and praying for strength she turned her back to the chaos, something she would soon regret.  Her brothers were asking her what the heck was going on, and as she opened her mouth a baby pink ray of light hit her, and Marinette poofed and in her place sat 4-year-old Marinette Wayne.

Jason and Dick stared at the small child on the ground in shock and after the moments were over Jason eagerly picked her up and spun her around.

“Holy sh*!  She’s so tiny!”

Jason called out as he held the small giggling girl to his chest.  Dick, was rightfully frustrated and walking in small circles and quickly said,

“Jason, focus, what do we do?”

Upon hearing Jason making cooing noises, he swiftly turned to look at Jason.

“I haven’t seen her this small in forever!”

He exclaimed, nuzzling his nose against the small Marinette.

“We need-Jason!  Focus!  What do we do?”

Jason shrugged as he held Marinette against his hip.  She giggled and tugged at his jacket.

“Wait it out?  I don’t know.”

Dick opened her mouth, but stopped when Marinette began to speak.

“Jay-Jay!  Ride!  Ride!”

Jason’s grin grew and gently set her down while holding her hand.  He squared down and carefully released her hand.  He could not express the pure amount of joy he felt when she climbed onto his back and wrapped her tiny hands around his neck.

“Jason, have you just forgotten the weirdly dressed flying child that not only turned Marinette, but all of Paris into kids?!”

He…had forgotten.  But can you blame him?  Marinette was so tiny when she was a kid, and he hadn’t seen her like this in forever.

“Look, contact Zatanna while I keep her safe and distracted.”

Dick sighed in relief replying,

“Alri-wait a minute.”

Jason was already running with a giddily screaming Marinette.

“No fair, I want to cuddle my baby sister too!”

He sighed in frustration, and no he was not pouting.  Quickly pulling out his communicator he dialed Zatanna.

“Hello?”

“Hey, so I’m in Paris visiting some family, and this flying kid in really weird clothes is going around de-aging people.  Could you come see what’s going on please?”

“Pardon, but what?”

“Yea, it sho-“

Dick quickly ran through the streets dodging beams that were now directed towards him.  Why did stuff like this always happen when they traveled?

A few moments later a portal opened and he had never been more relieved to see Zatanna in his life.  Zatanna looked around and looked at the villain.  As she studied it and was about to jump in, a neon butterfly mask appeared over the child’s face and she realized what this was.

“I can’t do anything, sorry Dick.”

“What?!  Why?!”

“This is ancient magic, probably the most ancient magic in the universe.  There should be others…, see,”

She said pointing to a cat-like figure in the distance.  Dick stared in confusion, what was happening?

While Dick was trying to figure everything out Jason was having the time of his life with Tiny Mari.  He was especially thankful that when she was blasted that her clothes were transformed into a white t-shirt and overalls with lions stitched throughout them.  He had taken so many pictures of them.  We’re people running around everywhere scared, yes, yes they were.  But that didn’t stop him from enjoying as much time as he could with his tiny sister like he used to.

“Jay-Jay!  There’s a fairy in my pocket!”

“How is there a fairy in the Pixie’s pocket?”

He asked jokingly while swinging the hands back and forth!

“Lookin lookie!  It’s a Ladybug fairy!  She’s so pwetty.”

Marinette held Tikki in both of her hands and jumped up and down trying to get him to look.  Jason chuckled and looked down at the toy.  It was cute, he had never seen something like it before.  Then it blinked, and flew out of Marinette’s hand, and oh gosh, IT CAN TALK?!

“Marinette, you need to help Chat Noir defeat the akuma?”

“Akuma matata!”

Marinette called out with a giggle.  Jason would have laughed, if it weren’t for the flying bug thing talking to his sister, who was currently 4, telling her to help someone defeat the crazed villain.

“Woah!  Are you insane?!  Look at her?!  How do you expect her to fight?!”

The thing looked conflicted before sighing and saying,

“Well, do you want to fight it?  You just need to wear the earrings, I can run you through what you need to do!”

“No!”

Marinette screamed.

“I want to be like you and daddy!  It’s my turn to help people!”

“Marinette, you're too young.”

Tears began to well up in the small child’s eyes.

“I-it’s no fair!  You al-always say that!  I want to help!”

She finished stamping her foot definitely with a sharp glare.  Jason sighed in exhaustion and turned to the floating creature.  He mumbles under his breath,

“Can’t believe I’m letting this happen.”

He knew by the way Marinette was gripping at her ears and the definence in her stance.  He could easily take them by force, but he didn’t want to hurt her or make her angry and feel betrayed.

“Can you assure above all else that she will be completely and utterly safe.  I will join as well in my hero suit to make absolutely sure.”

“Yes, she has a partner as well who will watch out for her.”

He sighed in relief at that, but there was a new and very heavy weight on his chest that wouldn’t leave until this event was over.  He listened to the fairy tell Marinette what she needed to do and almost smiled at the determined face she was making.  Her cheeks were so chubby and-no, focus!  He pulled out an extra domino mask he always carried with him and zipped up his leather jacket.  When he turned around there was a burst of pink light and where Tiny Mari once stood stood his sister in the cutest outfit he had ever seen!  It was similar to his old Robin outfit, but closer to Tim’s as she thankfully felt that there needed to be pants.  She had small wings on her back with a black cape with red bottom edges that shielded them from view.  And in her hands was a tiny yo-yo.  Before anything else could happen, he quickly pulled out his phone and took pictures.  He wanted to show this to Bruce and brag, sue him.

Soon after that they both left to the rooftops.  He was honestly surprised by how easily she maneuvered around the roofs and how easily her yo-yo grappled and released from things.  They soon landed next to a Cat Woman knock-off who turned to look at them in surprise and exhaustion.  When Marinette saw him she quickly turned to him and tugged on his sleeve.  Jason crouched down and Mini-bug leaned close to his ear and whispered,

“Does Selie have a son?”

Jason snickered and glanced up at the kid.  He seemed to have heard them if the ears twitching and confused look said anything.

“No Pix.  He was just inspired.”

“Oh, okie-dokie!”

“So, I’m assuming you two know each other and she was hit out of suit?”

“Yep, basically.”

“Right.  Well, we just need to break the wand, but I can’t get close.”

“Little Lady, cast your charm.”

Mini-bug puffed up her cheeks making her old —and most adorable— thinking face before yelling out while throwing the yo-yo into the air,

“Lucky Charm!”

“A red and black spotted rubber bullet dropped into Mini's awaiting palms.  Jason promptly took the bullet and loaded it into his gun, it was the perfect fit.  The hideously dressed child flew over to them and flourished her wand creating the opening Jason needed.  With one quick shot the bullet flew through the air and hit the wand causing it to snap.  A black and purple butterfly began to fly out and mini quickly caught it.  She quickly released it bouncing on her heels in pure joy as a wide smile grew onto her face.

“Told ya I coul’ do it!”

“Yes you did, good job Pix.”

Chat Noir, who they hadn’t noticed disappeared, came back with the bullet and handed it to the small girl.  She threw the bullet into the air jumping up as well and yelled out,

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

Millions of Ladybugs flew through the air repairing damages and Turing people back to normal ending with Ladybug herself.  Ladybug looked around confusedly and saw Chat on her right and Red Hood on her left.  Memories of the past hour flashed through her mind and she promptly hid her face in her hands and a deep blush bloomed across her face.

“This is a disaster, a complete disaster.”

“I don’t know Bug, was it?”

Jason asked with a crap eating grin.

“Yes.”

Came her mumbled response.  Jason laughed and ruffled her hair, Marinette was too miserable to care.

“We should go make sure golden boy isn’t panicking too much, don’t ya think?”

Marinette sighed tiredly and nodded, I guess so.

“Sorry Chat, I promise I’ll explain later.  Bug out.”

And as quickly as she could she swung away with Red Hood laughing and not too far behind.

“B is going to hate that he missed this.”

He called through the air causing a loud groan to escape her lips.

“Don’t show him!”

“Too late Pix, already sent them all to the group chat.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you to Babybug.”

Marinette groaned again and Jason laughed all the way to where they found Dick and Zatanna talking in an alleyway.

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess @buginetye @miraculouslydumb @aurcad123

#maribat #BDBWM2021 #bio!dad bruce wayne #marinette wayne #marinette dupain cheng #sibling au #sibling daminette #sibling jasonette #shenanigans #fluff #day 14 #cute #de-aged #mlb x batman #dc x mlb #mlb x dc

[butwhyduh]

Getting tall

Summary: Damian finally hits his growth spurts and the fam have opinions. Some damijon, timkon, jaytemis, and dickori mentioned.

Damian was an adorable tiny murder baby when he first showed up at the manor. Like a feral kitten. Short end of normal growth at 10 years old and thin too, Dr Leslie found. Make sure he eats 3 square meals and snacks when he wants and he’ll be just fine. Alfred had made it his mission, as he had done for both Jason and Tim, to put weight on Damian.

The first family member he outgrew was Cass. She reached over to ruffle his hair only to reach up above her head rather than below it. She didn’t mind. 5’4 isn’t very tall. She’d just have to remember that the next time they spar. Height wasn’t an important factor to her.

It was a few months later that Damian hit a massive growth spurt and grew 4 inches. He passed by 5’6 Stephanie.

“Hey little dude. What are they puttin in your food, miracle grow?” She asked when she noted how tall he was and how big his feet had gotten. Damian was a bit like the giant puppies all gangly. Alfred was adjusting the Robin costume monthly after Damian rushed to put it on for patrol one day and every time he raised his arms he felt his stomach show. Clothes were constantly being bought that met his newest height increase. The Kents were very appreciative of the barely worn clothing Jon got as Damian went through another pair.

“I’m perfectly normal in growth,” he said pulling on the hem of his shirt that was growing shorter by the day. Stephanie eyed him but left it. Tim hated the height jokes they would make when everyone started passing him in height. Nowadays Tim just rolled his eyes and deferred all short jokes to Bart who Damian was now taller than. Bart didn’t care at all because he was short but he was also at least top 3 faster people ever so who cares right?

For a very short time, Damian was taller than Jon. He liked that. Jon thought it was pretty funny.

“D, I’m going to be taller. My dad and mom are both taller than yours. I’ll be taller in the end,” Jon said with a grin before Damian pushed him off the roof. Jon giggled and stared at Damian with obvious heart eyes. The kid was definitely smitten.

Tim was half an inch taller. He didn’t acknowledge it in any way. But it wasn’t surprising. His mother was tiny, his father lower end of average, and Tim probably skipped too many meals with working during an important growth phase while he was becoming Robin. 5’8.5 is a perfectly normal height for a man. He had an easier time with stealth.

Bruce watched as his son grew more handsome and taller everyday. He recognized things he hadn’t taken the time to see with Dick or Jason and had missed completely with Tim. Aftershave, cologne, and deodorant budget went up exponentially and Damian was barred from bringing any of his shoes in the house and his Robin uniform had to double washed occasionally. He spent far longer in the bathroom doing his hair and agonizing over any spot on his face.

Bruce even once caught Damian do the lean on the doorframe while talking to someone they like when Jon visited once. He had to give the worst birds and bees talk of all time. Bruce also noted how Damian had Talia’s nose and his lip curled the same way hers did when he smiled. He stretched when walking to the breakfast table the same way Dick did.

Damian didn’t get another true growth spurt for 2 years. There was plenty of jokes that he jumped up to his height and didn’t move again. Jon was once again taller than Damian. Alfred was ready this time with the massive amount of food the 15 year old could put away and panels in his costume for easier adjustments.

Talia smiled proudly at her son as he grew taller than her. He was turning out handsome like his father but kept her feature and in her mind, that was the perfect combo. She never told Damian because she didn’t him to grow arrogant.

Dick didn’t notice it right away. He was so busy with Bludhaven and the Titans that he didn’t notice Damian had gotten a full inch taller than him. He only realized when him and Damian practiced a complex move that required a taller and shorter partner while training. They paired up as they always did and the maneuver completely fell apart. Dick was mentally putting together why it failed when Damian walked over and it clicked. Little D was not so little anymore.

“You’re taller than me,” he said brightly. Damian immediately grinned.

“So now you’re little D,” Damian said back. Dick laughed at that one.

“Don’t let it go to your head. I can throw you around like a tilt-a-whirl,” Dick warned. Of course, that’s exactly what happened the next time they sparred when Damian tried to use his height advantage.

“I can beat Jason so don’t think you can beat me just by being bigger,” Dick said standing over Damian who rolled his eyes.

Dick had no problem with Damian getting taller. It was his own height he had a complicated relationship with. See, Dick grew up as an acrobat. Being tall is a disadvantage. More weight to swing, more body to move. And his father had told him growing up that almost every Grayson man has been 5’8. It’s a legacy as strong as flying above the circus crowd.

And so when at 15, Dick was very distraught with the fact that he hadn’t stopped growing at 5’8. It felt like a part of his history and family legacy had died. He wasn’t one of the 5’8 Grayson men. He never told anyone beside Kori, late at night where she told him she loved him tall or small. She had already far outpaced Dick and was on her way to being 6’4.

Duke and Alfred and Damian were the same height for a short while. Duke would joke that he could just wear the Robin’s costume since they were the same size. Damian would threaten to disembowel him if he touched it and that made Duke laugh even more.

When he grew taller Duke once again joked with Damian calling him a not so jolly green giant and Alfred considered his nutrition attempt a complete success. Damian went from a tiny kid to a tall strong young man.

Damian and Jon were practically the same size for a while. Jon barely bent his neck to rest his chin on Damian’s shoulder as his partner worked on a complex mechanical part. Then Jon hit another growth spurt to end in his final height of 6’2, same as Bruce and his father. Damian enjoyed having a taller boyfriend for a while but would never say anything. High school dances were nice.

Bruce could see Damian getting taller and stronger and was practically grown. Dr Leslie warned Bruce that growth could continue until Damian was in his early 20s and he could end up a quite tall young man or stop tomorrow.

Jason liked being the tallest and biggest in the family. He had an entire inch in height on Bruce and was at least 20 lbs heavier. He was built like tank. When Jason had died at 15, he was terrifyingly thin. Alfred had tried his best but Jason had suffered malnutrition and hunger from practically birth. He was short and thin and Dr Leslie had told Bruce he probably always would be. And so when Jason came back to life a giant 6’3 and over 200 lbs, it was a shock. It took him forever to accept his size as anything more than an amour to create fear in his enemies. The first time he had accidentally scared a woman walking in the street at night, Jason had hated that he was so big. But within his family, it had become a source of pride. He was certainly taller than Dick and Alfred and even Bruce.

So when he visited Cass’s birthday party and Jason stood next to Damian and realized that the kid was taller than him, he was a little shocked. Damian had reached his final height of 6’4.

“When the hell did you get so big?” Jason asked while cake was being served. Dick nosed in the conversation.

“Little D is taller than you now,” he said with a teasing grin at Jason.

“And yet you insist on calling me Little D,” Damian said with an eye roll.

“I call him Big D,” Jon said with a smile. Dick blanched and Jason coughed out an awkward laugh.

“Good for you, bro,” he said patting Damian on the back. Jon blushed at the sudden understanding.

“No! I mean- he’s taller than me. I didn’t mean- uh,” Jon stuttered. Damian grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him away from his brothers who were laughing.

“It’s weird you know,” Jason admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“The fact that he is dating Jon?”

“No, they’ve been together forever. That he’s taller than me,” Jason said.

“Are you- does it bother you that you aren’t the tallest?” Dick asked with a gleeful smile.

“No,” Jason said abruptly.

“It could be like how I learned my little brother was bigger than me,” Dick teased. “All of a sudden you were just massive. My tiny little brother was this big dude. Good thing I’m comfortable with my masculinity.”

“Your girlfriend is like 6 inches taller than you. If that isn’t emasculating then there’s nothing I could do,” Jason answered.

“Yeah, she’s always been taller than me,” Dick said with a fond smile. “You can’t talk with the Amazon you’ve been hanging with.” He pushed Jason’s shoulder with a grin.

“We’re just friends-I guess,” Jason said uncomfortable. “That’s not the same-“

“Well at least Tim will always be our little brother,” Dick changed the subject but mentally noted Jason’s reaction to the mention of Artemis.

“Yeah, he’ll always be a shrimp,” Jason agreed.

“Honestly fuck you both,” Tim said from across the room. With Kon standing next to him he certainly looked tiny.

“Hey, it’s my birthday and I am the shortest and I can still kick all of your butts,” Cassandra reminded them both and they laughed but neither corrected her because they knew she was right.

#batfam #batfamily #dc fanfic #dc batfam #Damian Wayne #damijon #damian wayne x jon kent #Damian al ghul #Cassandra cain #tim drake #tim drake x Kon kent #timkon #Duke thomas #Alfred pennyworth #Talia al ghul #dick Grayson #dickori #dick grayson x koriand’r #Jason todd #Bruce Wayne #jaytemis #jason todd x artemis of bana mighdall

[bluejayblueskies]

For the Touches Ask Game, if you can, a little Jonmartin with Touching/9?

Thank you so much, I love your writing!!! 😭💕

touches prompt list

9 - holding hands across the table

i did a season two lunch dinner date fic! cw for mentions of paranoia/stalking and murder (in typical s2 fashion)

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They’ve been having lunch together for two months when Martin asks, with enough stuttering that it takes Jon a moment to process his words, if Jon would like to get dinner with him.

Jon hesitates only briefly before agreeing. Between finding out about Martin’s CV and the newly delivered CCTV footage, he’s almost entirely convinced that Martin did not, in fact, murder Gertrude Robinson and that his various attempts to make sure Jon eats and sleeps and drinks tea are simply a result of Martin being… well. Being nice, he supposes. If overbearingly so.

Why Martin feels the need to coddle Jon, he doesn’t quite know. But if he’s being honest with himself, he’s… not complaining. His frequent skipping of meals often isn’t an intentional thing, born instead of his tendency to get so wrapped up in his work that hours fly by without him noticing, and while sometimes he’s irritated when his flow is interrupted by Martin’s cheery greeting, more often than not it’s… a relief. To step out of the Archives, away from the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck, and pretend like he isn’t working alongside a murderer.

Maybe a murderer. He… he doesn’t know. According to the CCTV footage, Tim and Sasha and Martin and Elias all have alibis. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he gets, sitting in his office or walking down the corridors or reading through statements, that something isn’t right.

That there’s something in the Archives that’s not supposed to be there.

So, it’s… nice to get outside. And as much as Tim may joke about it—or… used to joke about it, at least—Jon does, in fact, try to eat three square meals a day if he can remember to do so. Try being the operative word. He’s been… caught up in work lately, and often he glances at the clock to see that it’s well past ten and he’s accidentally skipped dinner entirely. He hadn’t thought Martin had noticed, given that the man doesn’t live in the Archives anymore and typically leaves promptly at five along with Tim and Sasha, but evidently, he was wrong.

As Jon sits across the table from Martin at the small café they’ve chosen for lunch, he has the fleeting thought that Martin’s been sneaking back and watching him work and that’s how he knows that Jon has been missing dinner. He lets himself feel it, takes a deep breath, and pushes it away with considerable effort. No, that’s not… he trusts Martin. He does. Or he… he wants to. He’s trying.

“Jon?”

“Hm?” Jon blinks up at Martin, who’s clearly waiting for a response. “Sorry, I-I didn’t catch that.”

Martin’s cheeks are dusted a rosy red. He fiddles nervously with the black ring on his finger—a bit thicker in width than Jon’s, the metal smooth and bright where it reflects the sunlight. “Is—is this Friday okay? At—at seven? I-I can, um, meet you at the Institute. U-Unless you’d like to meet there! That’s, er. That’s fine with me too.”

“The Institute is fine,” Jon says, picking at his sandwich with a frown. The bread is damp and squishes under his fingers. “Perhaps we can go somewhere a bit less… soggy.”

“R-Right, yeah. I, um. I was actually thinking… you know that new bistro o-over in Clapham? M-Maybe not, it’s, er. It’s new. But I-I heard it has good South Asian food, which, um. I know you like.”

Martin’s face is fully crimson by this point. Maybe we should sit inside next time, Jon thinks. Or at least in the shade. The sun is rather intense. Martin picks up his mug of tea and takes a long sip, staring resolutely down at the table once he’s done. Jon waits, but it appears that Martin is done rambling, so he says, “Yes, that sounds fine.” Then, because it’s polite (and not untrue): “I am… looking forward to it.”

“O-Oh? Oh!” Martin looks at him, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Y-Yeah, um. M-Me too.”

We should definitely sit inside next time, Jon thinks as the back of his neck grows warm, the tips of his ears surely darkening. Good lord.

He doesn’t think the heat is responsible for the way Martin’s smile makes something in his stomach flutter. He decides to blame that on the atrocious sandwich because… well. It’s as convenient an excuse as any.

Because Martin is just looking out for Jon’s wellbeing. This is no different than him bringing mugs of tea when Jon is recording statements or accompanying him to A&E to get stitches after Michael or inviting him to lunch in the first place. This is not, he tells his ridiculous, over-zealous, butterfly-filled stomach, a date.

Because it’s not. Martin is simply a coworker—an employee—and a friend. Who he trusts. Maybe. Probably. And thinks about sometimes when he’s unoccupied. His hands, mostly, which look very soft and very capable. His smiles as well, each one like a gift meant just for Jon. The way he carries the heavier boxes that Jon can’t quite manage and can reach the top shelves to retrieve statements without even having to clamber up onto the bottom ones.

All completely normal thoughts to be having about a friend

So, when Jon wears the soft maroon button-down on Friday that he’s been told brings out his eyes and takes care to arrange his hair into something other than the haphazard braid he’s been managing lately and digs a bottle of peach nail varnish out of the bottom of his drawer the night before to coat his fingernails with, it’s just because he feels like it. Not because this is a date. Because it’s not a date. It’s just dinner. With Martin.

Who shows up to the Institute at quarter to seven wearing a nicer jumper than usual—cable-knit and mustard yellow, looking incredibly soft to the touch—and with small black studs decorating the lobes of his ears. He smiles widely when he sees Jon, also standing outside earlier than agreed upon, and Jon almost turns around to see if someone’s behind him. But there isn’t. That smile, unfettered and full of joy—it’s… it’s for him.

Surely, Martin is just… happy to see him leaving the office while it’s still light out for once. He’s certainly chided Jon enough times for his habit of falling asleep at his desk. (Which he’s been trying to do less lately, if only because it would be easy for someone to sneak up on him while he’s unconscious and slip a knife into his back or poison his tea or shoot him three times in the chest or—)

“R-Ready to head out?” Martin says, abruptly halting Jon’s train of thought. He tries not to look like he’d just been theorizing about his own inevitable demise as he mumbles his assent and follows Martin away from the Institute and into the still-bustling streets of London.

And if he presses close to Martin’s side while they walk, well. It’s just because every brush of unfamiliar contact against him feels overwhelming, enough so to make him flinch away. And if he takes Martin’s hand for a small period of time, well. It’s just because the crowd has thickened and he doesn’t want them to get separated. And if he feels particularly warm in his jacket when Martin laughs awkwardly at his own joke and rubs at the back of his neck, well. That’s just from exertion. It is quite a far walk to the restaurant.

The bistro is lovely. Jon typically doesn’t go for places like this—tucked between two nondescript buildings with a glass front that reveals soft, intimate lighting within and flowers planted in boxes outside—but once they’re inside and seated at their table, it’s… oddly charming. Jon shrugs out of his jacket, and even though it’s the same shirt he’s been wearing all day, Martin compliments him on it with a flush. The change from frigid winter air to the warmth of the bistro brings heat to Jon’s face as well, and he rolls up the cuffs of his sleeves to just below his elbows. Martin makes a choking sound, but when Jon looks up with a frown, he has his glass of water pressed to his lips.

“Sorry,” Martin says once he’s placed the glass back on the table. “Just, um. Uh. Tickle in my throat. A-Allergies, you know.”

Martin’s face pinches in what looks like a repressed wince, and Jon tries to be reassuring. After all, Martin is taking time out of his schedule to be here with Jon, and Jon doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. His grandmother taught him proper manners, and besides, he is… rather glad to be here.

His commiseration about his own experiences with seasonal allergies turns into a mini-lecture on the species of pollen-producing plants in their area. He only realizes he’s doing it when the waiter comes by with a cheery smile and asks if they’re ready to order.

Jon’s mouth snaps shut mid-sentence. He has not even opened his menu.

“I. Um.” Jon is about to ask for more time—which he strongly dislikes doing, as he’s had the waiting staff forget more than once about his table and he’s had to go through the mortifying ordeal of hailing them down like a-a bloody taxi—when Martin tilts his own menu toward Jon and points to an item in the middle of the page.

“They have chicken karahi and naan. I, er. I heard it’s good if you’re… interested.”

Jon blinks at the menu in surprise. “That… sounds great, actually. Er, medium spice, please.”

Martin orders his own squash curry, and the waiter takes their menus when he departs, leaving the spot in front of Jon oddly empty. Jon taps his fingers on the newly barren tabletop a few times, trying and failing to remember where he’d left off in his lecture. Ultimately, he gives up, deciding that Martin isn’t going to be interested in hearing about all of that and he’s already said enough on the subject.

Then, Martin says, “So, you were saying—about the pollen?” and something in Jon’s chest squeezes, an emotion he doesn’t know the name of. Relief, maybe, as Martin’s words manage to spark his memory and he picks up his train of thought again easily enough. Yes, that’s… that’s probably it.

The first few times they’d gone to lunch, Jon had made an effort to stop himself from rambling, as he was prone to do any time someone gave him the opportunity. He’d engrossed himself in his sandwiches and rice bowls and mediocre Chinese takeaway in order to keep from launching into an explanation of the origins of said folding takeaway containers or the documentary he’d watched recently about the Zhou dynasty. And the first few lunches had been… awkward. It wasn’t because Jon thought Martin was a murderer—he doesn’t think he’d have agreed to go for lunch if he truly believed that Martin might harm him. It was just… how things like this went when Jon was involved. He knows he struggles with casual conversation, and he’s never understood the purpose or execution of ‘small talk.’ He would be perfectly content to eat and exist in silence, except all too often he feels expected to provide some sort of conversation or entertainment, upon which point the silence becomes horribly oppressive and stress-inducing.

But he also knows that talking too much can be just as bad as not talking enough. His grandmother had always told him so. So he suffered through the awkward silences for the first few days, and Martin had let him, clearly assuming that if Jon wasn’t speaking, he shouldn’t either.

Then, around their fourth or fifth lunch together, Martin had begun to ask him questions. They were casual, genuine, and so clearly targeted at Jon’s interests that Jon was convinced that Martin was somehow following him home or searching through his computer history or—or something. On their eighth lunch together, Martin asked Jon about the newest exhibit at the museum—it had been about sharks, if Jon remembers correctly—and Jon couldn’t help asking how Martin knew that he’d gone to see it. He hadn’t explicitly asked if Martin had been following him, but he’s sure the sentiment was clear in his eyes.

The tips of Martin’s cheeks had grown red, and he’d said that Jon had mentioned a few days prior that he was planning on going. All traces of fear and paranoia had left Jon’s mind then, replaced by surprise and, beneath it, something warm and bubbly. Martin had remembered.

Their conversations had gotten a lot easier after that.

Despite how Martin seems to enjoy Jon’s long-winded tangents, he… does still make an effort not to hold a completely one-sided conversation. So, a few minutes into the continuation of his pollen discussion, he finds a natural stopping point and says, “So, er. You… like being outside?”

Not the most… articulated question Jon has ever asked. But Martin doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers curl around the bottom of his water glass, his palms smudging the condensation. “Yeah, w-when I can find the time, I suppose. I-I try to go for walks around my neighborhood if I can, if it’s not too dark by the time I get home, and there’s this park in—”

Martin cuts off with a small cough. He lifts his glass and takes a long sip, while Jon sits and drums his fingers against the table and tries not to bounce his leg too noticeably. “Sorry,” Martin says as soon as the glass leaves his lips, giving Jon an apologetic smile that somehow seems… artificial. Like it’s been plastered atop another, heavier expression. “S-Something in my throat again.” He hesitates, then continues, “There’s a park in Devon that I-I like, whenever I’m in that area.”

Devon’s quite a trip away, Jon thinks but doesn’t say. Why do you go to Devon? he doesn’t say. Is that where you go on Saturdays? he doesn’t say, because—well. It’s rather embarrassing, among other things, to admit to the fact that you’ve gone through your employee’s desk calendar because you thought he might have shot an old woman three times in the chest and had plans to do the same to you. Particularly when you are having dinner with said employee.

Ugh. Probably best not to think about the fact that he is technically Martin’s boss when he’s sitting three feet away from him at a candlelit table on what, to an outside observer, might look startlingly similar to a date.

But it’s not a date. Because Martin didn’t say it was a date, and he’s just trying to care for Jon, in that… over-the-top way that he does. Jon tries to muster up some irritation at the reminder that he’s likely being coddled, just for habit’s sake, but comes up empty.

He hasn’t been truly irritated with Martin in quite some time. He… doesn’t really know when that changed. When Martin became a source of comfort, rather than of annoyance.

“Jon?” Martin says. Right. Martin is still sitting across from him.

“Right,” Jon says, trying to sound like he hasn’t been drifting off in a hundred different directions. “That sounds… nice.”

Martin’s lips curl up into a small smile. “Yeah. I-It is. It, um. It makes the trip worth it, to be able to sit on one of the benches and just… write poetry.”

Jon has read some of Martin’s poetry, though Martin doesn’t know that. Jon doesn’t like poetry. Jon liked Martin’s poetry. These are, apparently, two truths that can and do coexist.

Jon does not mean to say, “Could I hear one?” But it appears that he is weary enough and relaxed enough and distracted enough that his verbal filter has small, critical holes in it. Damn.

Martin sputters. “U-Um, well, I-I suppose… I could, I-I do have a few, er. M-Memorized, if you—you really…” He trails off uncertainly. “You’re. Um. You’re sure?”

Well. Nothing to do but lean into it, Jon supposes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t sure, Martin,” he says, a bit snippier than he intends. The tips of his ears are hot, and he is deeply thankful that the dimness of the bistro hides the way they’re surely darkening.

“R-Right.” Martin clears his throat, looks down at the table. “I-I suppose I’ll just… do a short one?”

He proceeds to recite, in quiet, surprisingly stutterless lines, one of the poems that Jon already knows from the notebooks he’d left behind in the Archives. It’s… his favorite, if he were forced to pick one. But there is something different—something more—about hearing Martin speak the words aloud rather than simply reading them on a page. Martin pauses in places Jon hadn’t thought to pause, lingers on words he hadn’t thought to linger on, and adds a softness to the ends of lines and phrases that Jon finds himself enraptured by.

Logically, he knows that it’s not good poetry. He’d begrudgingly taken a poetry class during uni, had hated every minute of it, and had donated all of his books to charity shops the moment he wasn’t in need of them anymore. He’s read Dickens and Poe and Whitman—all the works that are considered great representations of their art form.

Martin’s poetry is nothing like theirs. His lines don’t follow the same rhythms; his words are clumsier, his images less profound. But still, even though Jon knows that it is technically not good poetry, he… he likes it.

He tries not to analyze that feeling too closely.

“So, um. Yeah,” Martin says after he finishes, rubbing his thumb over his ring. “I-It’s not really… great work, heh, you know, s-sorry.”

Jon is not the comforting sort. He’s been told that he’s too sharp at the edges, skin too full of spines and thorns. So he surprises himself, and probably his grandmother from beyond the grave, when he reaches across the table and takes Martin’s hand in his. It’s soft and big, the pads of Martin’s fingers lightly calloused from a past history of manual labor, and Jon thinks just for a moment how small his own hands look in Martin’s. He surprises himself even more when he says, honestly, “I enjoyed it, Martin.”

Martin blinks at him, eyes wide and owlish. His hand is rigid in Jon’s, like he’s afraid that if he moves, he’ll frighten Jon away like a skittish cat. “O-Oh.” It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but Jon thinks Martin might be blushing. “Well. T-Thanks.”

Jon nods once stiffly. He does not retract his hand. At first, it’s because he doesn’t think to do so, too wrapped up in the feeling of his skin against Martin’s. Then, it’s because it’s been long enough that doing so would be more awkward than keeping his hand there. He asks Martin about the inspiration behind the poem, for want of another conversation topic, and Martin talks about the trip he took to the countryside once and how it stuck with him, and Jon’s hand remains atop Martin’s. Martin takes a drink from his glass, and Jon takes a drink from his, but both of them use their free hands, as if in unspoken agreement that this is just how things are now. Jon’s hand is resting atop Martin’s and it will be until he has just cause to move it and that is just the way of the universe. Nothing to be done about it.

Their food comes, and looking extremely regretful about the fact, Martin extracts his hand from underneath Jon’s and reaches for his fork. They don’t mention the loss, and it’s quiet for a period of time while Jon eats his chicken karahi and Martin eats his squash curry and Jon tries not to openly moan at how good the food is.

Something must show on his face, because Martin smiles warmly at him and says, “Well? Was that Yelp reviewer correct when they said that the chicken karahi is ‘literally the best food they’ve ever eaten in their entire life’?”

Jon swallows a bite of admittedly very good chicken. “Well. I don’t know that I would quite go to that extreme, but it is rather enjoyable.” Reminds me of the way my grandmother used to make it, he doesn’t say. That feels like a date conversation, and this isn’t a date.

(It feels very much like a date.)

(It isn’t a date.)

“Good,” Martin says. Then, he smiles, wide and unabashed and like a ray of sunlight, and Jon quickly buries himself in his food again so he doesn’t say something foolish like I really like it when you smile at me like that or Is this a date? or I would very much like this to be a date.

They finish eating, and the waiter takes away their plates with the promise of bringing the check soon. Jon’s hands rest on the table, index finger fiddling with the edge of the cloth placemat in front of him. He’s in the middle of trying to convince himself that yes, it would be ridiculous to take Martin’s hand again, you should definitely not do that on this very much not-a-date, when Martin reaches out and takes Jon’s hand in his. Properly takes it, pressing their palms together and slotting his fingers easily between Jon’s and knocking their rings together as he squeezes gently.

“Um,” Jon says eloquently. He should very much not ask if this is a date. “What are you doing?”

Nope, that’s worse. That’s definitely worse.

“Oh!” Martin lets go of Jon’s hand immediately, and Jon does not try to chase Martin’s hand as it retracts, thank you very much. He’s more dignified than that. “S-Sorry, I thought… I, um. Never mind. I-I shouldn’t have… sorry. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Jon finds himself saying. Then, in an effort to do damage control: “I… didn’t mind.”

“You… didn’t?” Martin seems confused, which is understandable. If Georgie were here, she’d tell him that he’s giving, quote, ‘mixed signals.’ He’d never quite understood what counts as ‘mixed signals,’ and he doesn’t know that he ever will.

“I did not,” Jon confirms. “I just… I suppose I…”

He should not ask if this is a date. He really, really shouldn’t.

“Is this a-a date?”

It appears he’s found another one of the holes in his verbal filter. Lovely.

Martin’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He makes a series of sputtering sounds as Jon waits and tries not to bounce a hole through the floor with the heel of his foot. “You—you didn’t…” Martin seems to have a miniature internal debate with himself, his face cycling through a dozen different expressions over the next few seconds. Finally, he sighs and says, eyes fixated on the table between them, “I had… intended it to be. Though I suppose if—if you didn’t know it was a date, that. Um. Kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Does it?” Jon’s mouth says without his permission.

“I-I mean… you can’t really have a one-sided date,” Martin says with an awkward laugh. The waiter is nowhere to be seen, which Jon is grateful for and disheartened by in equal measure. This situation would certainly be easier with a convenient escape.

“I… suppose.” Jon worries at the edge of the placemat, pulling on a loose thread. “Though, it’s… if this were a date—or, I suppose, if I-I’d known it was meant to be a date—I… wouldn’t have acted much differently.” He pulls harder at the thread, feeling a bit bad for the way the fabric bunches around it. “I… would not have been… that is to say, I would have liked it if… rather, to say that I didn’t think about it would be, er… well, incorrect.”

Martin stares at him, clearly unable to make sense of Jon’s admittedly disjointed, half-finished sentences. Jon sighs and says, under his breath, “I am not opposed to considering tonight a date.”

Martin’s cheeks are red enough now that Jon can see the flush, even in the dim light. “U-Um. What?”

“I am not opposed,” Jon repeats, louder, “to considering tonight a date.” Lord, that’s mortifying to say out loud. How do people do this? To emphasize his point, he sticks his hand out, palm-up on the table. It’s stiff and awkward and he probably looks like a cat with its hackles raised. He focuses on the cable knit of Martin’s jumper so he doesn’t have to see whatever amused or mocking or disappointed expression is on Martin’s face as he realizes just how bad Jon is at all of this.

Martin is quiet for a moment. Then, just as Jon is about to pull his hand away and flee for the exit, he feels a touch against his palm. Martin’s hand settles tentatively atop his—not weaving their fingers together, not even properly holding it, just… pressing together, palm to palm. Jon can feel Martin’s heartbeat faintly against the tips of his fingers where they press against the inside of Martin’s wrist. “Okay,” Martin says softly, like Jon has just given him a precious gift. “Then it’s a date.”

It’s a date. Jon’s skin has absolutely no reason to prickle at those words, nor does his stomach have any reason to squeeze and sprout butterflies. He nods, a bit brusquely, and opens his mouth to say something—god knows what—when the waiter appears next to their table, somehow having both comically bad and impossibly good timing.

Martin pays, despite Jon’s insistence that he can cover his own share, and then they’re back out in the cool night air, making their way toward the tube station. The first few minutes are quiet. There’s a tension between them that feels more anticipatory than awkward. Their hands brush once, twice. Then, on the third time, Martin hooks his fingers around Jon’s and clasps his hand in his, and Jon lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

They hold hands all the way to the tube station, up until they have to part ways to take separate lines. Jon runs through all the things that he thinks he’s supposed to say in a situation like this—I had fun tonight or We should do this again sometime or… something—but ends up saying instead, “How long have you…?”

He trails off, squeezing Martin’s hand a few times thoughtlessly, like a warm, bony stress ball. Martin seems to infer the rest of his question, however, because he squeezes Jon’s hand in return and says, “It’s… new for me too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jon nods and squeezes Martin’s hand again. He thinks that’s going to become quite a habit if they keep this up. “Right.”

Martin hesitates, before letting his grip on Jon’s hand loosen slightly. “We… we don’t have to do this again if you don’t want to. I-I know things are complicated right now, and I…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to do this again, for… for what it’s worth. But I get it. If you don’t, that is. For—for any reason.”

“I do,” Jon says, surprising himself with his conviction. “I-I don’t… you’re right. Things are… complicated.” That’s certainly a word for it. “But I… I trust you, Martin. O-Or… I want to trust you.” He takes a deep breath. “I am making the decision to trust you.” It’s hard and it’s terrifying and there’s an animal instinct deep within Jon that’s telling him not to expose his vulnerable side, but… somehow, despite all of that, Martin makes him feel… well. Not safe, but as close to safe as he can get right now. Which is an accomplishment in its own right.

Martin exhales slowly and gives Jon a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you. I-I know that’s difficult, and I…” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, just once. “I-I’m happy.”

And Jon finds that he means it when he says softly, “I’m happy too.”

Martin gets on his train, and Jon gets on his. And despite the ever-present itching beneath his skin and the persistent belief that something isn’t right and the knowledge that he is likely a hunted man, from the moment he lets go of Martin’s hand to the moment he closes his eyes and curls onto his side in bed, that happiness remains.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #ask #anon #this got so incredibly long... i hope you like it! #my writing #my fic

[moonlit-imagines]

Misbehavior (Part 1)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n: tysm anon!!

prompt: anonymous: “Hello Lacey! Hope your doing great! Could I please request a bat family x batsis!reader where the reader is Kind of the middle child (I was thinking older than Damian but younger than Tim) and she’s always forgotten and in the back. Maybe some scenarios can be that no one listens when she talks or they forget to invite her to do stuff. So then one day she acts up in school like maybe punching someone for no good reason because she’s craving attention but instead of Bruce showing up to get her Jason shows up and he sees that she’s actually really sad and starts to question her until she tells him everything and maybe spills some tears and it ends with just Jason comforting her and cheering her up. Just some soft Jason for my soul! Also have a great day and I hope that you feel better and more motivated now after your break! 😘”

part 2

No matter what you did, none of your deeds went unnoticed. Good or bad.

You always heard how Dick was so independent, the one everyone should use as an example.

You always heard how Barbara could do it all, she never failed to impress.

You always heard how Jason was reckless, someone who needed to get his act together.

You always heard how Tim was such a prodigy, he was one of a kind.

You always heard how Steph was so determined, she had such amazing goals.

You always heard that Cass was perfect, they’d never change a thing about her.

You always heard that Duke was so strong, he’d never give up no matter what stood in his way.

You always heard that Damian was dangerous, a kid that needed to be guided.

But what about you? What did they hear about you? Nothing. No one ever spoke of you, they didn’t have the time. It seemed as if you were just unimpressive, there wasn’t one thing that needed to be mentioned. Stuck in the middle of a bunch of bats and birds, no way to stand out in the crowd.

Maybe not in a mask or a cowl, a dress or a suit, behind a computer or among the darkness, but there was one place you couldn’t be ignored...

You sat at your desk, picking at old tape with the tip of your fingernail. The teacher had nothing interesting to say, so what was the point of being here? What made Gotham Academy so special that you just had to attend this place?

The uniform was overkill, the classes went nowhere, the students were too preppy, and you didn’t have a single thing in common with anyone here.

Anger was starting to bubble inside you as you continued your internal self-loathing. Your mind was only focused on the negative, but it was shifting from school back to home.

No one was ever there for you, not even on patrol. You’d called for backup several times on missions and nearly lost it all when you had to go in alone. If it were anyone else, a teammate would have met them in a heartbeat.

Your plans were always overshadowed whenever you tried to set up a mission or even just a day off. You wanted cookies? Too bad, Tim wants brownies. You wanted to watch a movie? Too bad, everyone chose a TV show. It was the little things that irked you the most. Half the time, you never even got the memo.

And what about when you all come back from patrol with all sorts of injuries and Alfred comes to patch you up? Well, not you. He’ll run to check on cuts and scrapes. Meanwhile, you had a broken wrist and a black eye.

You’d finally run out of things to pick at around your desk which resorted in you tapping instead. There was a brief bit of zoning out as you remembered the time that Damian’s plan for evading Killer Croc’s attack was to push you in the way. Or the time that Jason hid his guns in your bed for reasons he didn’t care to explain. Or when Dick drank the last of the milk and didn’t tell you until after you poured your cereal. Or when Tim told you that you weren’t fit for the mission he had been planning. Or when Bruce blatantly ignored the story you told out of pure excitement, giving you nothing but a “sounds like you had fun.”

While you were in a horrible daze, you felt a hand on your shoulder that snapped you out of it faster than the Barry Allen. Without even evaluating the situation, your reflexes caused you to turn and twist your classmates arm backwards as he screamed.

“Hey! Stop, ow, that hurts! Stop! Stop it!” You processed his words too late and knew exactly what was coming next.

“Y/N L/N!” You teacher shouted as you drew your hand back. “Dean’s office. Right now.” Her sharp voice sent a chill down your spine, not even the Joker could do that. You’d be able to explain the situation pretty easily, you just didn’t want to make it worse. But there was one ankle that sent you off the edge. Another student tripped you on your way through the aisles, and that student caught a fist to the face. The audience gasped and shouting from your teacher ensued, but you didn’t listen, you’d take the punishment at this point. So you walked right out and headed for the dean’s office without so much as a hall pass.

“Mx. l/n? What’s this about?” Dean Williams was surprised to say the least, you’d never been sent in for discipline before. Was there a certain way to do this?

“Well, I zoned out and some kid behind me grabbed my shoulder, I accidentally twisted his arm.” You retold your story, the abridged version. “But on my way out I punched a kid in the face because he tripped me. That one’s on me.”

“...Well,” the dean frowned at his obligations, but had to go through with some kind of punishment, “I’m going to have to suspend you for physical contact with a student. I’ll call your father to come pick you up.” You shrugged and slouched back in your chair, giving up on any hope of talking your way out of this. It might as well just happen. You listened to the clicking of the buttons on the dean’s phone as he typed in the Wayne Manor phone number, obviously reaching Alfred almost immediately.

“Wayne Manor.” You eard his faint voice through the speaker.

“Hello, this is Dean Williams from Gotham Academy, may I speak to Mr. Wayne? I have his child in my office.” Your dean explained over the phone, peeking back at your for a split second. You were completely unbothered, it was baffling.

“Is it Damian?” You heard him ask, causing an involuntary eye roll.

“Y/N, actually.” There was a long pause before someone else picked up the phone. “Mr. Wayne, this is Dean Williams at Gotham Academy. I have y/n sitting across from me right now, they seemed to have gotten themself into a physical altercation with two separate students, I have no choice but to suspend them.” You heard a deep sigh over the phone, then the handheld piece was handed to you.

“Bruce?” You asked.

“Really? Fighting at school?” He sounded unimpressed. Nothing new, even when you do something new.

“Something like that. Whoops.” He hung up on you right after that, so you handed the phone back and told your dean, “Guess they’ll get me soon.”

“You call your father by his first name?” Dean Williams had nosily questioned.

“I’m adopted.” He obviously didn’t know you as well as your more troublesome sibling, it was time he just minded his business.

After a good thirty minutes of silent waiting while listening to keyboard clacking and papers flipping by the front desk, the office door opened, and to your surprise, it was one of your brothers.

“I’m here for y/n.” He mumbled, signing the piece of paper and showing his ID.

“Alright, Mr. Harper, I just have to check some paperwork really quick...” The receptionist went into your file and checked for your emergency contacts. “You’re all set. Now, y/n has been suspended for two weeks. I suggest you get to the bottom of their little ‘outburst’ before they’re able to come back to school.” It actually pissed Jason off to hear her say that.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His sarcasm wasn’t subtle. “Come on, kid.” Your brother gripped your arm and led you out of the office, noticing your bitter expression that he couldn’t even rationalize. Was that normal? “So what happened. Bruce just told me to come get you.”

“Of course he did.” You rolled your eyes on the brink of tears, he didn’t even come to get you himself. Jason opened the car door for you and nudged you inside, slamming it once you were clear.

“You better have a good reason,” he warned as he started the engine, “I was in the middle of a poker game.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I’m such an inconvenience.” You were starting to remind him of himself. That was never a good thing.

“Okay, my bad. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jason began speeding down the block, you’d never once seen him obey a speed limit. You’d think someone with a fake ID and a death certificate would want to avoid any run-ins with the cops, but Gotham was just one of those cities.

“Yeah, right.” You reached for the radio knobs and felt Jason’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“No music until you explain yourself.” You fell back into your seat to pout, muttering some curses under your breath. “I won’t tell Bruce or anyone. I swear.”

“I just zoned out. Reflexes.” You bluntly replied.

“What?” He still didn’t have any context to go off of.

“I twisted someone’s arm backwards. Honest mistake.” Jason knew there was more to this story. “But on my way out of the classroom, I punched this kid who tried to trip me. That was on him.”

“As much as I condone payback, you can’t do that at school.” He sighed. “You’ve never been sent home before. That I know of. So why now?”

“Yeah, you know, maybe that’s the issue? You couldn’t tell me if I’ve ever gotten in trouble before. None of you could. You couldn’t tell me a definitive thing about me. When’s my birthday, Jason?” He was at a loss for words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So this was all for attention?” Jason asked. “There’s a hell of a lot of better ways to go about that.”

“Tried them all, this one barely even worked.” You replied with a crack in your voice. “How come none of you care about me? Why am I always looked over? I’m just like the rest of you. I put on that stupid suit every night and kick ass, I get my job done, I get good grades, I’m resourceful, I’m special—” You’d let that last one slip in your rant to your older brother, it shocked him so bad he stopped the car.

“I know what you mean.” Jason stared straight ahead at the empty road. “I felt the same way when I came back. After everyone was used to me being back, it was like nothing ever happened. Bruce just went back to calling me careless, irresponsible.”

“At least you get noticed, Jason. Your identifiable.” You turned to him with a pained look and he risked his confidence to look you in the eye. Once he did, he couldn’t look away. It hurt him to see someone so familiar to himself have tears running down their face because they felt forgotten. No kid should ever have to feel like that. That was why Bruce took him in. That was how Jason became Robin.

“Fuck this.” Jason hit the gas and turned the car around. “We’re getting ice cream. Do you like ice cream? That’s a serious question.”

“I...I guess.” You were somewhat confused by his sudden literal change in direction.

“Good. You’re my kid for today, all my attention goes to you. I’m sure Bruce won’t notice if you’re gone for a few hours.” Jason’s jaw dropped at his last comment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right and you should say it.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x batkid!reader #jason todd x sibling!reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood #batfamily #batfamily x reader #batfamily imagine #batfamily x batkid!reader #jason todd x batsis!reader #jason todd x batbro!reader #batfamily x batsis!reader #batfamily x batbro!reader #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #batkid!reader #batsis!reader #batbro!reader

[ragingbookdragon]

My Dark Knight

A Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language (I think? I don't fuckin' remember.)

Author's Note: The only cringe I got from this story was the title. It's so fucking cheesy bruh. Enjoy! -Thorne

Bruce was a mystery to her. The longer she dated him, the more she realized the image he projected was a cover, hiding the real man underneath. One time they’d gone on a date to the new escape rooms that had been built in Gotham, and the entire time they’d been inside, she could tell the person she’d gone in with, was not the same person locked in with her. His eyes had narrowed as he scanned the room, sometimes lingering on certain items placed around. She watched him for a moment, then his eyes met hers, and he immediately grinned, eyes losing their hardness, taking on a mirthful appearance. “Find anything to start with?” he’d asked her, then followed up with, “I don’t even know where to start.” She might’ve fallen off the back of a wagon, but it sure as hell wasn’t last night.

She handed him a slip of paper, observing how his mood shifted once more, turning solemn as he read it. It baffled her to no end, wondering why someone like him would become so serious and concerned at times. The image he projected to Gotham was the model of billionaire-playboy, something that he played well; other times he acted goofy, giving Gotham the loveable-goober, they exasperatedly appreciated. But what got to her the most, was how solemn he would become. It would happen at random times, and though she would never admit it, it took her a God awful, embarrassingly long amount of time to realize it occurred when police sirens would sound.

***

They lay on her couch, (Y/N)’s back pressed up against his chest as they stretched their legs out in front of them. A good meal and a few glasses of wine had them cuddled up and laughing about the most random things.

She held the magazine up, showing him the cover. “That’s a good picture of you.” He hummed in amusement, listening as she said, “You’ve got that little half-smirk on your lips.” She turned her head, seeing the same smirk looking back at her. “I like it.”

His eyes filled with mirth as he leaned forward, gently pulling the magazine from her hands. He let it flutter to the floor and (Y/N) let out a small laugh as he started pressing kisses to her cheek and neck. “Bruce Wayne, you’re a scoundrel.” The hum he returned was quiet, but it was an answer to her all the same.

A moment later, his lips had stilled against her skin, pulling her from the moment she was in and causing confusion. “Bruce?” She craned her neck, trying to see him. “Is everything alright?” (Y/N) caught his eyes, seeing him staring silently out the window.

Seconds later, a police cruiser passed by, blue lights blazing as her eyes darted to catch it. Something in his eyes worried her and she rested a hand along his jaw, coercing his gaze to hers. “It’s probably nothing…just plain old, Gotham crime.”

When he finally looked at her, his eyes still carried their sharpness, and while it concerned her, it didn’t truly become understandable until a few days later.

***

She hadn’t met the rest of his children, only Tim from the times she’d visited the office; the two seemed to get along well, their backgrounds being similar, and she developed a mothering fondness for the boy; he didn’t seem to mind being doted on by her either.

(Y/N) stepped through the doors to his office, seeing his son sitting at his desk. “Hi Timmy. You look like you’re having a busy day?”

He glanced up from the laptop, giving her a smile. “Hey Miss (Y/N).” He looked back down. “It’s not too bad…meeting days usually aren’t.” He paused, eyes meeting hers once more. “Are you here for Bruce?”

She nodded, stepping closer to his desk. “He texted saying he was in a meeting and that he’d be done around eleven-thirty.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Mind if I impose for a few minutes?”

Tim returned her smile in kindness, shaking his head. “Not at all. In fact, I could use your help organizing.”

(Y/N) nodded, moving beside his desk. As she gathered his files, a certain ring binder caught her eye, and she tapped it. “This doesn’t look like the usual files you boys have…what it is?”

Tim glanced at it, voice dropping as he admitted, almost bashfully, “Oh that’s…a personal binder…I forgot I’d brought it here.” He reached over, flipping it open, and (Y/N) took in the sight of hundreds of photos of the Dark Knight and his partners.

She took a seat on the arm of his chair, gazing at them; one photo caught her eye, and she pointed it out. “That one.”

Tim stopped trying to flip the page, looking at the photo. “What about it?”

(Y/N) stared at the image of Batman standing on the ledge. The picture wasn’t as clear as she’d like, and it was a bit far, but she could see a familiar smirk on his face.

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed and he asked, “(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

She blinked, smile appearing on her face as she nodded. “I’m fine…just in thought for a moment.” She gestured to the picture. “Do you think you could make a copy of that for me?”

He nodded, albeit confused, picking up a few of the pages, murmuring, “I’ve got better photos of him in here. Clearer ones.”

(Y/N) shook her head, pointing at the photo. “I want that one.”

Tim shrugged, pulling the photograph from the plastic slip before moving to the printer. A moment later, he took a copy of the photo from the top, handing to her, watching as she folded it and tucked it away in her purse.

“Any reason why it was that photo?”

As she opened her mouth to respond, the door to the office opened, and Bruce appeared in the entry. He smiled at her. “(Y/N).”

She rose from the chair, putting the purse strap on her arm; she glanced down at Tim and whispered, “I’m a big fan of Batman when he doesn’t look like he’s angry at the world.” Tim snorted, and she moved to Bruce, placing a hand on his arm. “Hi Bruce.” The two waved at the teenager before leaving for lunch.

***

A few hours later, she sat on her couch, staring between the photograph and the magazine. Her eyes rested on the photo, then she slowly drug them to the magazine and she sighed, “There’s no way…I’m just imagining this.” Apprehensively, she picked up the marker, moving it to his face on the magazine. “He’s not Batman…he’s not Batman…”

She colored in the top half of his face, then added two ears and breathed, “Oh holy mother of God…He’s the Batman.” (Y/N) held the magazine and photo side by side, disbelief in her gaze as understanding flooded her thoughts. Before she knew it, she was rising from the couch, making her way to the front door.

***

She pulled up to the manor and climbed the steps, knuckles rapping against the door as she waited. The door opened, revealing the butler; he was surprised to see her but quickly recovered. “Miss (Y/N). We weren’t expecting you tonight.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile and responded, “I know…I’m sorry for showing up at late notice but…I need to speak to Bruce.”

He nodded, letting her inside. “Master Bruce is in his room, but you’re welcome to wait in the living room while I fetch him.”

(Y/N) hummed, following him into the room. He left her standing by the couch, his sons sitting there, eyes wide as they looked at her.

She waved at them. “Hi boys…Hi Tim.”

He waved back at her, then his other sons rose from the couch, extending their hands. “Dick Grayson, I’m the oldest.”

She shook it, smiling, then took the other’s hand. “Jason Todd, I’m second oldest.”

(Y/N) dropped his hand, glancing at the younger boy who was glaring at her. “From what Bruce described, you must be Damian.”

He glared at her. “How much is he paying you to be his escort?”

Jason reacted immediately, turning to the boy. “Oi!”

(Y/N) simply smiled and returned, “Probably about as much as he paid your mom to be his.”

Damian’s eyes widened in shock as his mouth went slack, obviously not expecting such a sharp comeback.

She knelt to his height and gently closed his mouth. “You’ll catch flies, sweetheart.” She stood back up, smiling as Bruce walked into the living room.

“(Y/N)? Is everything alright? Did something happen?”

She turned, looking at him. “Uh…sort of?” She paused, then murmured, “Kinda had a lifechanging revelation at my place about twenty minutes ago.” His eyes filled with confusion, then she revealed, “You’re him…you’re Batman, aren’t you?”

The room went silent as her words hit each of them, and she watched the billionaire persona fall away as The Dark Knight appeared. “…How’d you find out?”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly, the weight of his gaze beginning to make her nervous; she wrung her hands, voice quiet. “I didn’t until tonight…with a little help from a photo and a magazine…” She paused, then said, “You’re really him, aren’t you?” She glanced at the boys. “And they’re…them. Nightwing…Red Hood…Red Robin…Robin.”

Her gaze turned back to him. “You guys are the Batfamily.”

Bruce stared at her a moment, then walked past her murmuring, “Follow me.”

She obeyed, walking behind him into the study. Bruce twisted the hands of the clock, then a doorway appeared; he took her hand, leading her down the darkened stairway. When they got to the bottom, he led her to a wall of suits.

They stood in front of it, and she watched his stare turn almost sad as he looked at them. “…I was going to tell you in time.” He glanced over at her. “It looks like you beat me to it.”

(Y/N) looked away, frown crossing her lips as she apologized, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to take that right from you.”

Bruce’s hand tightened around hers, and she looked back up at him. “You did take that right from me.” He eyed her, that smirk crossing his lips as he quipped, “But I know ways that you can make it up to me.”

(Y/N) huffed in disbelief, letting go of his hand. “You scoundrel.”

His smirk grew as he rounded on her, hands taking hold of her hips. “Oh, I’m not a scoundrel.”

She laughed as he pressed her against the glass suit holder. “You are a scoundrel and if you want me to make it up to you…” (Y/N) pointed to one of the suits. “Let me try that on and I will.”

Bruce chuckled, leaning close, his breath on her lips as he purred, “Where’s the point in that? It’ll just get taken off.”

(Y/N) glanced over at the case, then back to him, and begged, “But I really wanna try the suit on.” She curled her hands in his sweater, pleading with him. “Please Bruce? Just for a couple minutes?”

He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you really want to try the suit on?”

(Y/N) nodded fervently, hands patting his chest as she spoke excitedly. “And the belt. I wanna wear the utility belt.”

After watching her for a moment, he relented, and a few minutes later, she stood in the center of the cave, the suit barely fitting on her.

(Y/N) pulled the cowl on, eyes searching the cave until she found him; she grinned, pulling a deep voice as she posed. “I’m Batman.” Bruce let out a deep sigh through his nose and she asked, “How many times have you heard people do that?”

He grunted. “Too many.”

She smiled, walking over to him. “I just want you to know that this is badass, but this thing also weighs a ton.” (Y/N) rested her chin against his chest, staring at him. “You’re very strong, Bruce.”

He stared back at her, countering, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, thumbs sticking under the cowl as she pulled it off; she gently took his hands, caressing the back of them, and murmured, “…I love you.” His eyes widened and she squeezed his hands, reiterating, “I love you, Bruce.”

He seemed to hesitate in his answer, but she didn’t mind, letting go of his hands in favor of wrapping her arms around him. “You don’t have to say it back yet…I know it’s early.” (Y/N) leaned into him, pressing her lips to his cheek. “But I just want you to know that I do…” She pulled away, steel-blue eyes following her as she did.

She waited for him, then he took her hand and muttered, “…I’m not an easy man to understand.”

(Y/N) smiled, gently shaking her head. “I’ve got all the time in the world to understand.”

He swallowed, meeting her eyes. “Most of my time is directed to—” Bruce gestured to the cave. “This…I don’t know if I can offer you what you want.”

(Y/N) brought his hand up to her face, pressing kisses to his palm. “Your love is all I could ever want…my Dark Knight.”

Before he could respond, a scoff sounded by the stairs followed by a voice, griping, “My Dark Knight. How original.”

The two pulled back, and she watched Bruce reach down, plucking something from the utility belt around her waist. He pulled away and chucked it towards the stairs, then a yelp sounded. “That hurt, old man!”

Bruce grinned, wrapping his arms around (Y/N). “Good. I meant for it to.”

Laughter followed, then his sons came into view, and Tim quipped, “So, we’re not lobotomizing her for figuring out our secret?”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, but Bruce’s arms tightened around her waist as he denounced, “Not the best joke, Tim.

He pointed finger guns at her. “Sorry (Y/N)…just kidding.”

She let out a laugh that seemed more forced than not. “I would hope so.” (Y/N) cleared her throat, pulling away from Bruce’s arms. “I should probably change out of this now.”

As she took a step, a siren sounded from the Batcomputer, making them look towards it; Bruce looked back at the boys and nodded. “Go.”

Each of them moved, and she waited for them to come back. When they did, the boys passed by, giving waves and smiles (even Damian), until all that remained was her and Bruce. She stared at him, seeing him in his suit up close for the first time.

(Y/N) inhaled deeply, tracing the symbol on his chest. “Well…go save Gotham, Batman.”

A small smile crossed his lips, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. As he pulled away, Bruce murmured, “I’ll be back soon.”

She nodded. “Be careful…you and the boys…please.”

Bruce gave a quick nod, then walked off. He got a few feet away, then turned around, gazing at her. “(Y/N)?” She glanced at him and he confessed, “I love you too.”

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader imagines #bruce wayne x reader imagine #bruce wayne x reader oneshot #bruce wayne x reader one-shot #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne oneshot #bruce wayne one-shot #batman x reader #batman x reader imagines #batman x reader imagine #batman imagines #batman imagine #batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - VIII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

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

Word Count: 3,600+

Warning: Mention of sexual assault 

Previously on…

“Going along with this plan seems rather unlike you,” Tim finally pointed out to Bruce.

It was the two younger boys and Bruce sitting in the cave. 

“Without her help, we would have never been able to get the evidence we need to take down The Court of Owls,” Bruce sighed as he looked up at the screens.

“Yeah, but like you said before, we never use our own as bait,” Tim countered.

“Y/N knows what she’s doing.”

Tim and Damian shared a look.

“Are you certain things have not gone too personal, father?” Damian finally asked.

The personal question finally forced Bruce to tear his eyes away from the screens and look at his son.

His gaze shifted between Tim and Damian. From their looks alone, Bruce realized that his feelings towards Y/N were not as subtle and secret as he wanted.

But Bruce knew better than to answer Damian. 

The boy had never been invested in his father’s personal relationships before. Why did he have to start now? And with Y/N?

“What happens if things go south?” Tim challenged.

But Damian answered for his father. “You know he has a plan B and C, Drake. He always does, even if he doesn’t share it.”

Bruce was not about to have a conversation about his love and sex life with his two youngest sons. So, he thought of something to escape and he thought of it fast.

He stood up quickly and faced them. “Mandatory family dinner. Tonight.”

“What!?” Damian screamed in outrage.

“I don’t want to,” Tim whined like a baby, even though he was very much a young man standing at the ripe age of 19.

“Mandatory,” Bruce repeated solidly before leaving the cave.

Damian and Tim shared a look.

“This is your fault,” Tim accused.

“How is it my fault?”

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut about the sexual tension we’re all choking on in this damn mansion!”

“But you don’t disagree. You’ve noticed it as well.”

“I was a little late to the game, but yes,” Tim admitted.

“She’s not like the other ones,” Damian muttered so quietly that Tim almost missed it. 

“No, she’s not,” Tim confirmed. 

——————

Bruce was slightly surprised to find Y/N sitting at the outdoor pool, reading a book.

She wasn’t in a bathing suit – just shorts and a t-shirt.

Bruce walked over with his hands in the pocket of his slacks.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think that you’re starting to like it here.”

She looked up from her book with a smirk. “For the record, I still think we should ‘eat the rich.’”

Bruce smirked. “Right. Of course.”

Y/N eyed him. “Did you need something?”

“Are you sure about this?”

Of course he was coming to try and talk her out of the plan once again.

“Bruce, I’m not changing my mind.”

“Figured you would say that.”

Y/N could see his mind racing. It was obvious he hadn’t stopped thinking about everything that could wrong with. Bruce needed control. And even if he was going into an inevitably dangerous situation, he always had multiple plans to get out alive. Y/N’s involvement made it harder for him to do that. 

“Careful,” she warned him playfully, “It’s starting to look like you’re worried about me.”

“I am,” he retorted.

Her amusement vanished. “I didn’t think you worried. Or got scared.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought you had realized by now that both of those things happen when you’re involved.”

She didn’t know how to respond that. She really didn’t.

“I also came out here to tell you we’re having a family dinner tonight.” Yes, Dick and Tim were basically living at the manor while they handled this specific case. But it was rare that the whole family ate together. All the boys would come back from patrol at different times. Alfred usually made something and put each of their meals in the oven or fridge for when they got back.

But Bruce made a habit of having mandatory family dinners. They weren’t frequent. And the boys often viewed them as some sort of punishment. But Bruce saw it as a way to remind them all that they were a family. A chaotic and a strange one, but they were still a family.

“It would be nice if you could join us,” Bruce added politely.  

Y/N smiled at how obvious it was that he was choosing his words carefully. “It was really hard for you to not me tell what to do, wasn’t it?”

He narrowed his gaze at her from being caught.

She never seemed to miss an opportunity to tease him. 

“Yes. I’ll join you.”

Bruce nodded, clearly pleased with her answer.

“Will you miss it?” Bruce surprised her by asking as he looked around at the exterior of the manor, looking almost lost in thought.

“It’s a home,” Y/N sighed. “And even with all the secrets and dark pasts, it’s still filled with happy memories, too. And a family.” 

Then she smirked. “Even if it’s a highly dysfunctional one,” she added teasingly.

“Not sure all the boys would agree with you on that.”

“Are you sure about that?” Y/N challenged.

———————

Y/N walked out of her bedroom right as Dick was dragging Damian down the hallway.

“Come on. It’s never as bad as you think it’s gonna be,” Dick tried to tell the boy.

“Why did Todd come? He never comes to family dinner. He doesn’t even see us as his family.”

Dick smirked. “You and I both know that’s not true, no matter how many times he tries to convince everyone – even himself.”

Then both of them noticed Y/N’s presence in the hallway.

“You look pretty,” Dick complimented.

Y/N looked down at her outfit and shrugged. “Figured I could make a bit more of an effort.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Damian huffed before leaving the two of them behind.

Y/N and Dick both laughed lightly at his attitude.

“I’ve never told you how good you are with him,” she thought aloud.

“I don’t know about that…”

Y/N turned to him with an insistent look. “You are. Sometimes I think he listens to you more than Bruce. He looks up to you. I think it’s because…” her words die out.

“What? What you were going to say?”

Y/N still hesitated, but told him anyway. “I think it’s because you’re more available to him…emotionally, I mean.”

“Sometimes I feel like I have to talk to him the same way I do with Bruce. He’s a younger carbon copy of the guy. Just brattier.” Dick sighed. “Deep down, Damian has a good heart and he cares deeply about the people in his life. He’ll just never admit it.”

Y/N nodded.

It did sound like Bruce.

But Y/N never considered Dick would have a similar impact on Bruce that he also had with Damian. She wondered what Bruce would be like today if he had never taken in an orphaned Richard Grayson.

Sometimes Y/N believed Bruce would be completely devoid of any and all emotions if it hadn’t been for an adolescent Dick. His needs and wants as a child had prevented Bruce from turning completely into a callous vigilante with nothing tying him to his own humanity and life.

Y/N was about to continue her walk to the dining room, but Dick softly grabbed her arm.

“Hey, before we walking into the chaos…” Dick cleared his throat. “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay after the other night.” He shifted his weight and looked at the ground. “If I was too forward or I misread something or–”

“Dick?” Y/N interrupted with a smug look.

His head shot up to look at her. “Yeah?”

She had a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Then she moved into Dick’s space, closing the distance between their bodies and did not stop until they could feel each other’s body heat.

Y/N tipped her head as if she was about to kiss him.

But her lips stopped just a centimeter or two from his.

Dick’s eyes turned menacing once he realized she was messing with him.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered seductively, “we’re okay.”

Then she slipped away quickly and started walking away without him.

“That was cruel!” Dick called after her.

But her only response was her laugher from down the hall.

Dick shook his head, but couldn’t stop his smiling.

Maybe it was avoidance or a distraction from the reality of their relationship. But Y/N couldn’t deny that it was also fun.

—

Dinner was in the formal dining room of the manor. This was the first time Y/N had even stepped foot in the room. The fireplace was even lit. Even when Wayne Manor was hardly trying, it reminded Y/N how out of place she was.  “If I have to sit through this bullshit, you’re sitting next to me,” Jason said from behind Y/N, making her jump.

To her horror, Jason pulled out a seat at the head of the table. Two at each end and then two chairs in the middle on both sides.

“Oh, I don’t think–” Y/N stuttered out in panic.

“You’re the guest,” Jason cut her off and gently pushed in the chair when he finally got her to sit.

Damian was already sitting to the right, closer to the other head of the table– probably to be closer to his father.

Jason sat down to the left of Y/N. And when Dick finally caught up to her, he didn’t question Y/N sitting at the head and sat to the right of her.

“Perfect. You’re like our future step mom,” Jason declared.

Damian snickered, despite hating to laugh at Jason’s joke.

But Y/N looked horrified. She was about to jump up and take the remaining middle seat on the other side of Jason. But Tim’s timing was absolutely horrendous.

“Please switch spots with me,” Y/N leaned forward and hissed at Dick.

He smirked. “Absolutely not.”

When he saw her obvious panic, he leaned forward as well and whispered, “That’s payback for earlier.”

Y/N glared at him and huffed.

“Oh, I’m so glad I came,” Jason sighed.

Bruce walked into the room with his head held high. “Tim, no phones. You know better.”

Tim sighed in annoyance but slipped his phone into his back pocket.

Dick leaned to Y/N. “Bruce has a strict ‘no electronics’ rule for family dinners. Phones are forbidden.”

Y/N nodded, even though she would never be so rude as to bring a phone to dinner, especially when she was a guest and this was a literal “manor.”

Somehow Jason had pulled a bottle of red wine from nowhere. Or maybe it had been sitting on the table and Y/N had just missed it.

And Jason had already grabbed Y/N’s glass and gave her a heavy pour. “But drinking is highly encouraged,” he added with a crooked smile.

Y/N barely let him finish pouring before she grabbed the wine and chugged. 

When she put the glass back down, Bruce was watching her carefully. She at least had enough shame to sink lower in her chair and give him an apologetic look.

But Bruce was amused more than anything.

He’d never brought a woman to a family dinner like this. And though the situation was not that straightforward, it was still causing him a weird amount of anxiety.

“How are your lessons going, Damian?” Bruce broke the tension with the question.

Damian muttered off what sounded like rehearsed and generic statements about his personal studies.

“I didn’t even know he went to school,” Y/N muttered to Dick as Damian and Bruce talked.

“He doesn’t. He’s technically homeschooled,” Jason answered first. “Which is total bullshit seeing as all of us were forced to go to Gotham Academy with all the spoiled brats of the city.”

“As if it mattered, you died before you were forced to graduate from the stupid establishment,” Damian commented darkly.

Jason beamed and laughed lightly at the comment.

But Dick, Tim, and Y/N all froze and looked to Bruce.

They all knew it was a sensitive topic. 

Bruce was clearly trying his hardest not to scold them all night. So he just took in a deep, shaky breath.

“Why get your GED or drop out of high school when you can just get murdered?” Jason offered with enthusiasm.

“Jason,” Y/N warned lowly when she saw the pained look on Bruce’s face that he was trying so hard to hide.

Jason’s death still haunted Bruce and riddled him with guilt – despite the miracle of him being resurrected. Y/N probably knew that more than any of the boys. Maybe only Dick really shared that understanding.

“You’re right,” Jason agreed. “Tonight’s not about me. You’re the guest, Y/N. Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the words got caught in her throat when she felt everyone’s eyes on her.

This was not how she imagined tonight going.

But Alfred – her savior – interrupted with the first course of soup and salad.

Everyone was momentarily distracted with the food.

Y/N hoped it stayed that way.

“Who taught you how to hack?” Damian piped up.

Y/N relaxed at that particular question. “No one. I taught myself.”

“Where’s your family?” Tim asked innocently.

Y/N flipped through all the possible lies she could tell, deciding to go with the one that would lead to the least amount of follow-up questions. And it wasn’t a lie at all.

“We’re estranged,” Y/N mumbled without looking up from her food.

“Parents are overrated,” Jason commented with a smirk.

Dick and Bruce glared at him.

However, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with Jason.

Little did she know that Jason could relate to her upbringing far more than anyone else at the table. Their childhood’s were parallel. Ones neither of them deserved. 

Tim instantly felt guilty for asking an uncomfortable question without realizing it.

“Y/N is not here to be interrogated,” Bruce warned the table.

“Well, why don’t you tell us about her, B?” Jason answered. “How exactly did you two meet again?”

Bruce narrowed his gaze. He knew what game this was. The more emotion and reaction he showed, the more it would encourage Jason to continue with such antics. “We worked on a case together a couple years ago,” was all Bruce supplied.

“More like she threatened you into working with her,” Dick mumbled as he tried to hide his smirk by licking his lips.

Y/N kicked him under the table.

“So, Y/N, have you always had a thing for older men?” Jason asked.

She gave him a death glare.

“Jason, come on.” Dick cautioned.

“I mean, you of all people should be curious, Dickie.”

Everyone went quiet.

Jason rolled his eyes and looked around the table. “Oh. Are we all pretending there’s not a weird love triangle going on?”

“I didn’t realize my sex life was up for discussion tonight,” Y/N mumbled.

But it wasn’t just sex was it?

“Why don’t we all go around the table and share!?” Jason suggested loudly. “Dick, you first. What’s your number?”

“Jason that is enough.” Bruce grunted.

But Y/N had it with Jason’s pot stirring and she wasn’t going to let Bruce fight her battles for her.

She snapped her head in Jason’s direction. “I hope you don’t have a sex tape laying around, because I will sell that shit to PornHub faster than you can jerk off,” she threatened.

The words slipped out of Y/N’s mouth so quickly that she had momentarily forgotten that a literal child was also sitting at the dinner table.

Her hand slammed over her mouth and her eyes widened in shock. 

Jason threw his head back with laughter. This was exactly the chaos he was trying to start.

Her eyes whipped to Damian with horror as she blurted out, “I am so sorry!"

“Please, I know what fornication is,” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m not so innocent. After all, I was conceived from my mother drugging my father and forcing coitus onto him.”

“I also slept with said mother,” Jason chimed in.

Tim made a disgusted gag noise.  

Dick rubbed his face in exhaustion. Y/N’s jaw dropped at this new information. 

But when she looked to Bruce, he wouldn’t meet her stare, only further proving it was all true.

This was no laughing matter. 

Yet the whole family seemed desensitized by the subject.  

Y/N was processing that Bruce had gone through such an assault – and by the mother of his only biological son, nonetheless. “Can Jonathan come over soon for a sleepover, father?” Damian suddenly asked.

The subject change was like whiplash on the entire table.

Y/N couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t just move past what she found out like that. 

“I don’t see why not,” Bruce answered.

Clearly he was grateful for his son’s short attention span and his inability to read the room and realize he’d said something entirely inappropriate for the situation. 

But Y/N could also see the subtle happiness in Bruce’s eyes from his son asking him such a question. And for that split second, this felt like a normal family.

“Who’s Jonathan?” Y/N asked Dick quietly.

She was trying to follow Bruce’s lead and move on. 

“Superman’s son,” Dick provided.

“And literally Damian’s only friend,” Jason added.

“I heard that!” Damian shouted.

“I meant you to!”

“Put that knife down, Damian.” Bruce warned. “What have I told you?”

Damian lowered his head in shame. “The knives at the dinner table are for eating, and are not to be used as weapons under any circumstance.”

The table suddenly erupted into various conversations. Tim started talking Wayne Enterprises business with Bruce. Damian and Jason were shooting insults at each other. Alfred brought in another course.

Dick and Y/N shared a moment.

She sighed, realizing that the worst of it was probably over now.

‘Sorry,’ Dick mouthed to her.

‘It’s OK,’ she mouthed back.

The dinner continue with filet mignon, roasted garlic mashed potatoes, mushroom bordelaise, and – thankfully – more wine. 

Maybe Jason had helped them all in a way by airing out all their dirty laundry immediately and getting it over with so they could move on.

But as Y/N looked around the table, listening to the boys and Bruce talk, she realized that maybe – just maybe – she didn’t want to leave. 

—

Alfred put all the boys to work cleaning the dishes after dinner.

But he refused to allow Y/N to help. Once a guest always a guest.

Alfred handed Y/N a fresh glass of wine and told her to wait in the drawing room and that he’d bring dessert within the hour.  

Y/N knew better than to argue with him and did as she was told.

There was a roaring fire in the room, pulling her to it.

“Please don’t take anything Jason said personally,” Bruce said from behind her.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh and shook her head. “He loves to start drama. That’s for fucking sure.”

“He’s constantly trying to get back at me. You weren’t his target. I was. But I apologize that you were caught in the crossfire.”

She turned away from the fireplace to face him.

Her eyes were heartbroken and worried.

“You never told me about…” she hesitated, “about Damian’s mother. I-I had no idea.”

“I try not to speak of it. No matter what happened in the past, Talia is still Damian’s mother.”

“But she still–”

“I’m fine,” Bruce cut her off. “Really, Y/N. I came to terms with it long ago.”

He was irritated, but too preoccupied with comforting Y/N to face the dark truth of how Damian was conceived.

“Well, if you need to ta–”

“I know, Y/N. Thank you.”

Their moment was interrupted by the boys trampling in the drawing room.

Dick had Damian thrown over his shoulder as the boy screamed insults at both Tim and Jason. Clearly Dick was preventing a full-on brawl from errupting.

The bickering and teasing continued but wasn’t anywhere near as awkward or stressful as it was at dinner. Perhaps all the glasses of wine Y/N had were helping with that. She decided to simply sit back and watch the Wayne family.

Eventually it hit Damian’s bed time. Bruce insisted on tucking his son into bed. 

Jason took their leave as his cue to leave the manor. 

Tim went up to his own room. Except they all knew it wasn’t to sleep, but to get back to work and not stop until he was utterly exhausted. 

The drawing room turned relaxing as Dick and Y/N were the only two who remained. 

“You survived,” Dick pointed out with a chuckle.

“I did,” Y/N answered with a light laugh.

Dick let a moment pass before he asked,  “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents?”

She sighed, knowing Dick was going to bring this up at some point.

“Because I don’t tell anyone about them.”

“You told Bruce,” he countered.

Her brow furrowed. “And how do you know that?”

Dick at least looked guilty for answering, “He told me.”

She glared at him. “So is that what you two do now? You talk about me with each other? Swap notes?”

“Course not. But don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical getting mad about it?”

“Hypocritical?” She shot back.

“Yeah, hypocritical. You did a background check on every single member of this family. You know my entire past. You know every woman I’ve been connected to in my life. But the moment I know something about you, it’s not OK?”

“As if you wouldn’t offer that info freely if I asked…”

“That’s exactly my point, Y/N.” Dick sounded exasperated. “I’m trying to get to know you. I’m really trying. But now I know you’ve done it before. So I’m asking you to trust me enough to do it again.”

“It’s not that simple,” Y/N mumbled before walking out of the room.

Dick let out a groan of frustration and rubbed his face.

That definitely could’ve gone better.

But Y/N’s night wasn’t free of the Wayne men yet.

Just before reaching her bedroom door, Bruce crossed her path.

“Hey!” She snapped at him. “My past isn’t something for you to announce to whoever the fuck you want.”

“Y/N, that’s–”

“Save it,” Y/N snapped before he could get a word in. “Whatever broody and cryptic bullshit you’re about to spew…just…save it, k?”

And with that, Y/N slammed her bedroom door shut.

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

Part 9

A/N: I know a lot of people really hate the Talia/Bruce sexual assualt storyline. But that was the version of Damian’s conception that I was most familiar with. I didn’t want to make light of it, because we all know male victims of sexual assault are not taken seriously – and that’s fucked up. But I also didn’t want to linger on it too long since it’s such a disliked plot point

Let me know what you thought of this chapter!!! Pretty, pretty please. 😔

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 8 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne reader insert #bruce wayne x reader x dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson reader insert #dick Grayson x reader x Bruce Wayne #batfam #batboys #batman x reader #nightwing x reader

[her-world-on-fire]

Kisses in the Corridor {Tim Drake x Reader}

MASTERLIST

REQUEST HERE

Word Count: 3,604

Request: Could you please write a tim x reader fic where the reader is a superhero (I was thinking like Barry Allen’s kid and the new Kid Flash) and is also Tim’s s/o and maybe Bruce and/or the Flash catch them having sex? 💜

2s. “stop before someone sees!" & 4s. "ten? i only need five."

WARNING NSFW MATURE CONTENT 18+ Tim and reader are 18

I WOKE up to the sound of a loud buzzing. I moved away from Tim’s grip and reached on the nightstand for my phone. I looked back at Tim, he held the same peaceful expression. I squinted at the caller ID and immediately sat up. I tried to be as gentle as possible, not to wake Tim. He was normally a very light sleeper, but he was sleep deprived. I pushed the blankets off and moved out of the room. I gently opened the door and snuck out into the hallway. I looked down at the caller ID once more to be sure before I answered.

DAD

“Dad? It’s 3am, what’s going on?” I whispered, I heard a rustling in the background. There was some kind of conflict, but I couldn’t quite make it out. After a few moments there was silence, then a heavy sigh.“I need your help.”

“What’s going on?” I moved down the hall trying my best to be quiet. “I’m going to send you some files. I need you to get Tim to decrypt them.”

“Okay send them to me and I’ll have him look at them as soon as he wakes up.” I heard a pause from the other side of the line. “When he-” He paused. “He’s with you right now?” I hadn’t exactly mentioned that I had moved in with him. As far as he knew I was still staying with in the house with the others. I faked a yawn. “I gotta go dad, love you.”

I quickly hung up and moved back into the bedroom. I got back into bed and Tim shifted slightly. I moved closer and he put his arm around me again.

I woke up and found Tim looking up at the ceiling. “Did you sleep okay? I noticed you got out of bed last night.” He turned to me, and I sighed. “Sorry I thought I was being quiet.” He chuckled, “Work hazard. Don’t worry about it.” I sat up and grabbed my phone. “Well it was my dad.” He squinted his eyes. “Why did he call you at 3am?”

“He wanted me to send you some files he needs decrypted.” I handed him my phone and showed him the files. He hummed and sat up. “I’m sorry I know you just finished your project-” He shook his head and get out of bed. “I really don’t mind. I’m sure your father wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.” Tim grabbed his laptop and connected my phone. We moved into the bathroom and got started on our morning routines.

Tim’s was straight forward, he wanted to brush his teeth and get to work. I on the other hand had a few steps. I tried to make Tim do them with me as much as I could. “Come here.” I grabbed his face and massaged a gentle cleanser. Wearing masks almost every night didn’t work wonders for out skin. He waited patiently until I was done. I applied some moisturizer, “All done.”

He smiled and pulled me in for a kiss. “I’ll get the coffee started.”

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

 Tim spent most of the day working on the files. When it was time to leave for patrol I had to pry him from the computer. “It’s time already?” I nodded and moved to get up. He stretched and then looked around.

I held out his suit and he sighed in relief. “What would I do without you?” He pulled his shirt over his head. My eyes raked over his toned chest. He had come a long way. He used to be lanky, but he had put on a lot more muscle in the past two years. Whatever shape he was in, I loved him.

Truth be told I was still getting used to his chiseled features. I gave him once last glance. “If I stay here any longer we’re going to be late.” I handed him his suit and moved out of the room. I grabbed my phone and noticed a missed call.

DAD: I’ll be by Friday afternoon, Bruce needs me to speak at his proposal. Looking forward to talking to Tim.

As if Tim didn’t have enough on his plate. I still had another 3 days to prepare Tim. I decided to tell him tomorrow. I put my phone down and Tim emerged from the bedroom. We met Dick at the coordinates he gave us. Dick left for the night leaving the two of us in charge. Tim had wired the police scanners to our headsets. The night moved slowly.

That was until the 3rd hour.

“10-44. Any units between 4th street and Palmdale?” Tim and I exchanged looks, stolen vehicle. We were only a few minutes out. Tim used his grapple, seeing as we were nearby. I got there a few minutes before him. “How bad is it?” The scanners had grown more chaotic. This wasn’t a normal stolen vehicle situation. We learned that there were children inside the car when it was taken. On top of it all, the driver was intoxicated. “Can you send out an alert and clear the next two blocks?”

“Done.”

I kept up with the vehicle, doing my best to move civilians out of the path. With the alert Tim had sent out. I was going to get inside the vehicle and stop the driver. “He’s approaching a construction site. You’re going in blind, the city hasn’t updated the maps.”

“Send an ambulance, and make sure the police don’t go into construction.”

“Y/N-” Tim’s voice said sternly. He was too far behind to do anything. “Be careful.”

“Always am.” Now that there were no civilians in the way, I was going to have to get the children out first. He was nearing the end of the map. I moved in and saw two children in the backseat. I needed to take them one by one. It was safer, their bodies weren’t meant to undergo high velocities. I needed to protected them from whiplash.

The first child was a beautiful chocolate haired boy. “Okay, where are you Tim?”

“Magnolia.” He replied immediately. I took the boy and ran him to Tim. By time his older brother blinked I was back. I left them both with Tim and rushed back to the driver. By now he knew that something was going on. He sped up. “What are you doing?” Tim’s worried voice came over the headset. “They’re safe.”

“He could get away.” I used every ounce of my stamina to catch up. I caught up and moved inside the car. I tried to take control, but he wasn’t giving up. The site was less than a mile away. As it grew closer, I saw it was the outline of a building.

If he breached the gates he wouldn’t have time to stop. He would drive through the building’s foundation, which wasn’t secure. It would crumble onto of us. His hand moved to the gun he had by his side. He slammed the gun into the side of my head. I felt the warmth trickling down the side of my face. I threw a punch and felt it connect. He fired a shot and moved my head back. He missed. I lifted my head back up and took the gun. and tossed it in the back seat. I looked up, it was too late. We were almost inside the building.

Tim was screaming in my headset. He heard the gunshot. I opened the door and pulled the driver out. I looked in front of us, the building slowly started to crumble. There was still a chance. There was a small opening where the building hadn’t caved in yet.

I had to make a choice. I needed to risk taking him and him slowing me down. Or I could leave him and get out, guaranteed. I had a fraction of a second to decide. I took one look at him and decided to risk it. I held on too him and used all my strength to reach the opening. I was exhausted. Just catching up to him when he was miles ahead had taken it out of me. Now I was bleeding, and drained. 

I thought about Tim. Memories of us flashed inside my head. I mustered enough strength to run. I threw the man out and then jumped out of the opening. On impact, I knew something wasn’t okay. I had landed on my shoulder. “Tim.”

He was just outside the gates.

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

Luckily my body worked hard to fix the broken bone. Being a speedster came with its perks. Fast metabolism, and healing. By the time Bruce’s proposal came around, my wounds were almost completely healed.

“Are you sure you want to go?” Tim asked once more, hands on either side of my face. “I’m fine Tim. I promise. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He sighed, he had seen the x- rays. Physically I was fine. “Fine but if you start to feel even just a headache, we’re coming back.” I nodded and he looked over my face again.

I stuck out my hand and he placed a kiss on it before intertwining our fingers.

We arrived right on time. Tim’s part of Bruce’s proposal was one of the first points. He had to go set up in Bruce’s office. “I’ll be right back.” He took his files and rushed up to the office. I joined Dick, Jason and Damien in the lounge. “Hello, boys.”

They looked up and Dick’s eyebrow’s knitted together. “Are you even supposed to be out of bed?” I laughed, “Dick it was just my shoulder. I’m fine.” Damian snickered at his brother. Dick looked at between his brothers. Jason had a smirk on his face. “What?”

“Speedster. They heal 20 times faster than us.”

“He got promoted to lead of the biotech department of Wayne Enterprises a few weeks ago.”

The boys bickered. My eyes scanned the room for my father. He was incredibly hard to miss. “I’ll be back.” The boys didn’t even turn in my direction. I walked to the other side of the lounge. He turned to me and then patted his college on the shoulder. He approached me, a big smile on his face. “Hey dad.” He opened his arms and pulled me in for a tight hug. I groaned, “Little too hard.” I gasped and he let go. “Sorry, I just haven’t seen you much.”

“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been meaning to visit.” He nodded and looked around. “Where’s Tim?” I pointed to Bruce’s office. “He’s setting up.” My father raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know he was part of the presentation.”

“Wow. That’s fantastic.” He genuinely was impressed. After all he had a background in bio medicine. He knew how hard the work was. “We’ll I’d love to talk to him about it.” I laughed, of course he did. “You can come by our place after and I’m sure he’d talk your ear off.” He turned to me. His eyes narrowing.

Realization struck, and I cursed internally. Eventually I was going to have to tell him, but I was hoping back at home. In front of family and witnesses. Before he could say anything. There was an announcement on the overhead speaker. We were ushered as the presentations were about to begin.

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

Tim did fantastic as expected. He kept the crowd engages and said everything perfectly. He approached me as he walked off of the stage. I clapped along with the crowd. He greeted me with a kiss. “You did amazing Tim.” We walked to the back of the room. He didn’t want to interrupt anyone. He gestured for the door. He took my hand and I followed after him. We closed the door behind us and stood in the corridor. Tim let out a deep breath.

He still wasn’t used to speaking in crowds, and this was a lot larger than he was used to. “Are you alright?” He nodded, “I’m glad it’s over.” He moved to take off his tuxedo jacket. I watched as his arms contracted. He slowly rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscular arms.

He put his jacket over his arm and looked over at me. A small grin on his face. “What?” I shook my head and sighed. “How much longer is this?” He looked at the clock. “We still have another hour.” I looked up at him. His piercing blue eyes were fixated on mine. His hair wast neatly parted down the middle, every strand perfectly combed in place. He moved closer and put his hand over the wall near my head. “What’s got you all flustered Y/N?”

I took a deep breath, my eyes fixated on his lips. “You, Drake.” He smirked and pressed his lips against mine.

Barry looked around the room, and noticed the absence of Y/N and Tim. He turned to Bruce. “Where are they?” Bruce looked around. No sigh of them. He looked at the cameras on his watch. He didn’t see them. Bruce shook his head. The two got up and moved into the lounge. Damian, Jason and Dick were there for security. He knew no one would get past them unnoticed.

“Have either of you seen Y/N and Tim?” Bruce asked. Dick and Jason looked at each other and then shrugged. Bruce sighed, so much for security.

“I think I saw them go-” Damian spoke nonchalantly. He looked in front of him, behind Bruce and Barry Dick and Jason were trying to tell him something. Quite frankly, they looked like idiots. They were shaking their heads violently waving their arms back and forth. Damien squinted as he tried to read the boys lips. Dick mouthed something he couldn’t quite make out. Bruce and Barry exchanged looks, they turned around and saw Dick and Jason conversing casually.

“Damian?” Jason motioned for him to keep his lips zipped. A smirk grew on Damian's face. He wanted to see it all play out.

Dick and Jason tried. They weren’t quite sure what they were up to but they knew it was nothing good. They tried to stay in Tim’s good graces, in the blink of an eye Tim could hack everything they owned. As for Y/N, they knew there would be no escaping. Y/N could catch up to them anywhere. In short, they didn’t want to piss either of them off.

They had noticed their brother couldn’t keep his hands off of his date. They were two hyperactive teenagers, it didn’t take rocket science to figure it out. They watched as Damian’s smirk grew. He hadn’t figured it out but he knew it would get Tim in trouble and that was enough for him. “They went down the hall and up the elevator.” Bruce gave a short nod and the two went off.

“Well, we tried.” Jason shrugged, and took a swing of his drink. He wasn’t going to deny that watching Tim get his ass kicked by a speedster wasn’t funny. “Should’ve choked the little bastard.” Dick sighed, the two could only wait.

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

“Tim.” I let out a shaky breath, trying my hardest to keep quiet. “Stop before someone sees!" We were in a building full of people, at any moment someone could walk down the corridor. Tim chuckled against my neck, “You really want me to stop?” I bit my lip, he was right. I didn’t want him to stop. I was just worried about being caught. “The next presentation starts in 10 minutes.”

"Ten? I only need five."

At this point I threw all common sense out of the window. I took his hand and we were in his office in seconds. I had closed the door behind us. Tim smirked, “In my office? You little-” I interrupted him by kissing him. My hands moved from his hair and down to his suit. I quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt, and my hands moved to unbuckle his belt.

Without breaking the kiss i discarded his dress shirt on the floor. His hands moved to remove my clothing. We broke away for a moment to catch our breaths. He picked me up and moved us to the couch. His lips reconnected to mine once more. I straddled his waist and moved against him for friction. My hands moved back down to the waistband of his boxers. I pulled them down and ran my hands up and down his length.

He let out a groan. “Fuck.” He got rid of the rest of my clothes throwing them across his office. I didn’t waste time in scolding him. I lowered myself down onto his length. We both let out a sigh, all of our pent up frustrations released. Tim’s hands moved back to my waist. He lifted me and then slammed me back down onto himself. I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet. His lips moved down to my neck, leaving wet kisses before moving to whisper in my ear. “They’re all down stairs, I want to hear you.”

Tim loved hearing vocalization, he couldn’t get enough. He knew every part of my body. He knew exactly what to do to get what he wanted. He speed up, and hit just the right spot. I gave in. “Oh god.” We were both breathing heavily. Sounds of pleasure overtook the room. Our bodies moved against each other hungrily. Tim smirked as he moved back to my neck. He moved right to my sweet spot. “Fuck,Tim.”

I dug my nails into his shoulders, leaving small red lines, He pulled away from my neck, satisfied by his work. His lips moved back to mine and speed up again. I felt a growing knot in my stomach each time he moved in and out. Sensing I was close he sat up and took control. He thrusted up into me, over and over, and I grew louder each time. “Please, Tim.” I could feel his thrusts becoming more sloppy, he was close. My orgasm came soon after, my body gave out. I shook against him. He helped me ride out my high. He came and I felt his warmth spread in my core.

“Y/N are you okay-” The door burst open, in the heat of the moment I had forgotten to lock it. Luckily Tim reached for his shirt. He quickly used it to cover me. “I thought you were hurt or dear god.” Barry looked at the ceiling, trying to avert his gaze.

“TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE!” Bruce’s voice echoed off the walls. Surely the boys down stairs were snickering. “In your office of all places.” He rubbed his hand across his face. Neither of us knew what to say. “Get dressed. Now.” Bruce said sternly before slamming Tim’s office door.

We moved off of each other and tried to find our clothes. Of course Tim in desperation had scattered my clothes. I was kind enough to leave his nicely by the couch. We quickly got dressed and opened the door. Bruce crossed his arms over his chest. Barry glared at Tim.

“Hey dad.” I smiled nervously, he sighed deeply. “I don’t even know where to start. I’m so-”

“Did you finish uploading the files before you-” Bruce couldn’t finish the sentence, Tim pulled the hard drive out his pocket and handed it over. “Go.” He waved us off and I watched as he placed a hand on my father’s chest. I motioned for Tim to go, and I approached my father. Bruce looked between us and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” He nodded, a silence washed over us. Neither of us sure what to say. Finally, he broke the silence. “So, you really love him?” I looked back at Tim who was having his talk with Bruce. I smiled and nodded. “I really do.” It gave Barry comfort. He had seen the strength of the connection when he first met Tim a year ago. He knew that they were growing up, it was inevitable. After all, he was a teenager once. He knew what it was like to be deeply in love. For now, all he could do was try and forget this ever happened. Tim approached us. I looked back and forth between the two. For a long moment there was just silence. The two held eye contact. “I expect to see you during the holidays Timothy.” Tim nodded, “Of course sir.”

We went back down stairs. Damian snickered, and Tim shot a glare at his brothers. Dick and Jason pointed to their youngest brother. “If either of you breathe a word...” Tim trailed off, his threat looming. His older brothers nodded. “And you,” He turned to Damian. “I’ll end you.” I placed my hand on Tim’s chest. He backed away and stood up straight. “You know he-”

“Thank you for the drive, you helped save a lot of people.” And with that he was off. Tim breathed a sigh of relief, “I thought he was going to kill me.”

“I know. In time, let’s just get through this.” Tim sighed, “Fine.”

MASTERLIST

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[uglypastels]

Slide In // Frat!Tom

(a/n) I’ve never written this au before, in like a full fic i think, so i have no idea if this is good, but i had this idea in the middle of the night and yeah. I hope you guys enjoy. this may or may not have been inspired by a certain post @duskholland made about Tom and his mirror selfies <3 how amazing that he literally just posted one today lol

word count: 16.7k

warning: drinking, mention of drug use (weed), school, social anxiety, some smexy innuendos. i made some big last minute changes, so i hope its all coherent. 

DEEPFAVE: Liking a photo (or any post) from over a year ago.

It was a cloudy morning, and it was early. Really really early. Not even the birds felt up to it, it felt like. The campus was slowly awakening or going to sleep (depending on if you had been to last night’s Delta Kappa party, of course). 

It was cold, and the leaves fell off the branches with each huff of the morning breeze. The grass was wet from the previous night’s rain, and it soaked your ankles as you ran through the small grass field, in hopes to cut a bit off the distance to your lecture hall. 

It had not been your fault that you overslept. You had gone to bed early; your backpack was already packed for the next morning. It was supposed to be a relaxing morning, perfect for easing back into it after a week of sleeping in and celebrating the holidays. How could you have expected that your roommate would barge into your dorm at 2 am, still whoo-ing her drunk ass in the corridor with other wasted idiots? 

And it wasn’t like you were against all that partying and drinking. You would have gone yourself to the frat party, but it just didn’t sit right with you. A giant house full of intoxicated strangers- the anxiety running through you just thinking about it was making you shake. 

So, instead of “living a little”, as your older brother called it, you preferred to stay in bed most evenings, either watching Netflix or reading a book. Yet, still, you had been kept awake for so long last night that you slept through your alarm. What was supposed to be a calm morning turned out to be ten minutes of rushed panic. Eventually, you had decided to skip most of your morning routine, including breakfast, brushing your hair or even putting on a decent outfit. You ran out of your dorm, clutching on to your bag, phone and keys.

Your hair was reasonably alright. It was still in the braid you had made before going to bed, but a lot of hair had fallen out during your slumber. When you looked in the mirror though, you saw that it looked decent so you let it be. Not so much could have been said for your outfit. You kept on the same shirt in which you slept in, which was a slightly oversized grey graphic tee from a random indie concert you had been to ages ago. Unfortunately, it was so cold that you couldn’t just go outside in your shorts, so had to spend a precious minute slipping into a pair of sweatpants that were actually not as bum-looking as you had feared.

Luckily, the walk (or in this situation, run) to the lecture hall was short. So, you survived with only a thick sweater over your arms. 

And so, just like that, you were running through campus. The cold air was piercing your lungs as you inhaled deeply. Each breath started with this whistling sound, as you tried to ignore that pain, and ended in an exhale of a cloud of condensation. Maybe you weren’t in the best shape, but even this horrible experience would not make you sign up for the campus gym. No way. 

You could see the lecture hall doors, the wide wooden panelling already towering over you, and you slowed down. You were trying to catch your breath and composure. As always, the doors were heavy and to add to it, the wood could not handle the temperature, so it was even harder to open them. 

“Oh, let me,” you suddenly heard behind you, almost making you jump. The voice sounded familiar, but it wouldn’t click to a particular face just yet. 

“Thanks,” you breathed out as an arm extended from behind you, clad in a leather jacket, and pushed the door open with ease. You followed the arm up with your eyes and saw how it connected to an actual person. Yes, you definitely recognised him. But what was his name again? 

T- something starting with a T. 

He smiled at you politely, nodding the gesture for you to go inside. 

“Thanks,” you said again, before finally moving. 

“No problem,” he was walking behind you but quickly caught up to your side. You saw in his hand a Starbucks coffee, which almost made your mouth water. 

“Professor Dowling’s lecture, right?” he asked, before taking a sip. Your eyes unconsciously followed the movement as the need for caffeine was growing. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” you shook your head, focusing on anything but the delicious rich smell that you could sense coming from the cup—dark roast. 

“Well, good to know I won’t be the only one late,” he chuckled. Troy? Was that his name? No. He didn’t look like a Troy. 

“We’re not that late,” you checked your phone and cursed internally, “only… nine minutes.” 

“Dowling doesn’t care if it’s nine minutes or nine hours. Late is late.” He took another sip. You had to look away before your stomach realised how empty it really was. 

“True, I guess. Well, it was nice knowing you.” You sighed as you had reached the second door leading to the lecture room. Ty raised an eyebrow. No, his name was definitely not Ty. What was it?!

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, Dowling is gonna kill us, isn’t he?” You explained, and he nodded in agreement. 

He was again the one to slowly and quietly opened the door, giving you insight into the room. You almost yelled out in excitement when you saw that the lights had been somewhat dimmed for a slideshow that the professor was giving. You have Tim (nope, not Tim) a knowing look and smile. You had been saved. Then, the two of you slipped into the room, letting the doors close themself. You saw a few people turn their heads as you walked by together, searching for a seat, but you didn’t think much of it. You would have looked too if someone dared to be late for one of Dowling’s lectures. 

Finally, you found an empty seat. Two, actually. It was in the back of the class, so you hoped that once the lights would go back on, Dowling wouldn’t immediately notice the addition of two more faces. The mystery guy, as you were too tired to think of more names and decided to give up, sat down next to you. He pulled out his laptop and turned it on, quickly putting it on the lowest setting of brightness. Just before he had opened it up, you noticed a few stickers. Between a few references from tv shows and movies, you saw the logo of Delta Kappa. You only recognised it because you had been seeing the logo on almost every notice board the last few days together with the campus-wide invitation for last night’s party. 

So he was a frat boy. 

You looked up to the side at him as you pulled out your laptop and notebook. The notebook was more for doodling than anything. But also to write down some more of the essential or just entertaining parts of the lecture, since you had come to realise that writing things down by hand helped you remember better. 

Your heart stopped beating for a second as you opened your laptop, praying that no embarrassing tabs were open or, even worse, you still had Spotify playing on full blast. But you could let yourself relax when the laptop just showed you your desktop. 

Right then, you could hear your stomach growl of hunger. 

“Here,” suddenly T, as you decided to call him for the time being, slid over his coffee to your small desk. You looked up at him in confusion. He had a cap on, so there was not much you could see in the dark shadow, but you saw his sincere smile. 

You thanked him before grabbing the cup. Since it was Starbucks, you hoped to learn his name finally. But instead, in black marker, was written “Holland”. Last name. Well, that was something.

_________________________________

“Thank you,” y/n said before grabbing the drink, taking a look at the name written on it, and taking a big sip of it, although she quickly pulled it away from her lips, her face distorted in a sour expression. 

“Sorry,” Tom apologised, “my hand had slipped when I was pouring in the sugar.” 

“Yeah, I can tell,” she whispered, still a bit disgusted, but it didn’t stop her from taking another large sip. “How can you drink this stuff?” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Tom grinned. 

Times weren’t exactly desperate, in his case. 

The party had been a massive success. Everyone seemed to have had a great time, and this time, not even at the cost of any of the frat house furniture. Sure, some people might have thrown up in the cooking pans, but that could be easily cleaned up by one of the pledges. 

It all ended around 2 am, which was fairly early, but it was, of course, a school night. Tom remembered to drink water before going to sleep and woke up with only a mild headache. A few painkillers solved that pretty quickly. He got up, stumbled a bit over the mess around the house and was on his way to class. 

He was sure he would have made it on time if it wasn’t for his usual appetite and need for coffee. Yes, he could have made it at home, but for some reason, the coffee from that machine always tasted like piss. And Tom did not want to find out why. So, it had almost become routine for him to stop by the Starbucks that was on the way from the house to the lecture halls. 

What he had not expected was the giant line of customers inside. More people had felt the need for coffee after a wild night of partying. He recognised some girls, still wearing the same dresses they wore to the party. A few guys who looked like they were on the verge of death were sipping their drinks in the corner of the room. The two baristas were running around behind the counter, trying to make the drinks as fast as possible. As fellow students, they knew that there were a lot of people rushing to get to class, at least. 

Tom had even looked at his phone, checking the time before he decided to step into the queue. He had majorly misjudged the time it would take the baristas to make the few drinks before it was his turn to order. In the meantime, people would walk up to him, also recognising him from the party, to tell Tom what a great time they had last night. 

Finally, he got his drink and made his way over to the second station and poured in some sugar. For that extra kick of energy, but also, secretly, because he could not stand the bitterness of coffee. Then, it was really time to leave the crowd. Tom never really minded people and was definitely what you call a “social butterfly”, but there was always a limit. And the limit on a Monday morning was minimal. Even smaller, if you are still trying to get rid of a hangover. 

He had just reached the main square of campus when he saw the big clock. He was already late, so it wouldn’t do much to run. Professor Dowling did not care for excuses or how late you were, even if it was a second. So he could as well just take his time. 

Others had different ideas apparently.

Tom watched as someone ran across the grass, clutching on to their backpack. She stopped at the same door that he was heading for, so he got to have a good look first. The first thing he saw was the back of her head. Hair made up in a braid that was falling apart. A large black sweater, probably her boyfriend’s, was covering most of her frame. 

She was trying to pull open the door that had the word PUSH on them, but Tom didn’t say anything. It was early, and by the looks of her, not that he was judging, she didn’t have a great morning. 

When they had made eye contact, he recognised her from the lectures but did not think he had ever heard her name being mentioned. Professor Dowling loved interacting with the class, no matter how large, and often called out people to answer his absurd questions. She had never put her hand up to answer. Tom was sure of it; he would have remembered her name. 

It interested him to see her pull out, not only a laptop but also a notebook. Did people even use those anymore? Even the dim light he could see the words scribbled on the cover. The decorative style did kind of make it hard to miss it. 

Property of y/f/n.

So that was her name. Tom couldn’t help but smile to himself. 

Having already missed the first ten minutes, he tried his best to focus on the words of the professor, but some things just couldn’t go unnoticed. 

By the look y/n was giving his coffee cup, he could tell that she had not had any herself and the sound of her empty stomach as they sat next to each other only confirmed his suspicion. So, it only felt like the right thing to do to give her some. And the smile he got in return definitely made it worth it. 

His attention was entirely gone by that point, as he watched her open her notebook. It was filled with little drawings. Some were more distinct than others. There were the classic five-petal flowers and the single mysterious eye with no other entity attached to it—also a few little scratchy tornadoes and random filigree. Patches of just lines and different patterns filled up the corners and extended out to the middle of the pages. Tom also definitely recognised a few attempts at bringing back the Super S in there. 

But what also filled up the page were little characters. She must have drawn them during the lectures around Halloween because he recognised a little witch, stylised to the perfect amount of cuteness. There was also a cauldron of bats flying off to the side. 

Tom could have looked at it for much longer and still find some more doodles in there, but unfortunately, she flipped the page. This one was blank. She took out a pen and started to doodle mindlessly.

First, a straight line, to which she attached little ovals. Lightly, but the lines got darker, the more she went over it. Then she made some more lighter lines across it. It made him chuckle when he recognised what it finally was—a piece of wheat. The way she stopped drawing for a second, Tom thought that she had not realised what she was drawing either. It was just a random coincidence where a few lines suddenly could make up an existing object. Then she continued. 

From time to time she’d stop to make a note somewhere in the middle of the page, something that professor Dowling said that made her giggle. It was adorable to hear. 

“Now, this,” Tom could hear the professor say from his little podium, the two little words shook everybody in the room awake because those they were code for IMPORTANT. As Dowling kept on talking, y/n closed her notebook and pulled her laptop closer to type. Tom had to pull himself together to focus on the actual lecture.

Then the sound of her stomach pulled him out of that. That was followed by the whisper of an angry “fuck”. Tom looked over to y/n again. She was trying to type something out, but her shaking fingers kept pressing the wrong buttons. She was crumbling apart from hunger. 

Crumbling… 

Suddenly, Tom remembered. He leaned down to look in his bag, hoping it was still there. It was.

“Hey,” he nudged her side, making her look up at him once more, with caution. He grabbed the small pack of Oreos and slid them over to her desk. She looked perplexed. Then she pushed the, slightly flat-looking, cookies back to Tom. He frowned. 

“I thought I’m not supposed to be taking candy from strangers.” She whispered. Tom chuckled and pushed the pack of four cookies back to her. 

“Well, good it’s not candy then. Eat. I can tell you’re starving.”

Y/n looked at the Oreos, not sure whether to take them or not, but her stomach answered for her.  She opened her mouth, but then she closed it again and turned away. Tom understood it. It would have been the fourth time she would have said: “thank you”. By now, he got the message. As she opened the packet of cookies, Tom went back to listening to the lecture. 

_________________________________

You hesitated before taking the cookies. Were they some kind of prank? You knew how frat guys loved to pull jokes on everyone, even if they were no better than middle school hijinks or cheesy April fools clichés. But the silver packet, except that it looked a bit flat, seemed to be untouched. Most likely because of getting squashed by something in his backpack. 

You opened it and were immediately hit with the delicious whiff of chocolate. You took out one cookie and didn’t bother with the usual way of splitting it open to eat the filling first. You needed food. Now. Even if it were just four broken Oreo cookies. It was better than nothing.

Obviously, you were still hungry and in need of a proper breakfast, but the small snack helped you hold out for the rest of the lecture. 

But now that your stomach was sorted for, you had another problem concentrating. Your new, still unnamed, friend tended to type very loudly. At first, you looked over in a bit of annoyance, which made you actually notice his hands. There was nothing special about them. They were naturally just hands, but the way he moved his fingers across the keyboard… it made you look back in that general direction a few times more.

Probably because of all these distractions, the usual hour and 45 minutes felt much shorter. Before you knew it, professor Dowling was saying his goodbyes and everyone around you started packing up their things.

Needing to get some food ASAP, you packed up your things and practically ran out of the room. Only as you were nearing the cafeteria did you realise that you had never said goodbye to your snack provider. 

Shit.

_________________________________

“Hey, so I was thinking-” Tom was going to suggest grabbing a bite for breakfast together, being somewhat hungry himself, but when he looked up y/n had already packed her things and was on her way to the stairs, following the other students out the door. 

Tom sank back down into his seat. 

“Any problems, Mr Holland?” Tom’s head shot forward to see professor Dowling looking up at him. When he looked around, he saw he was the only one who had not started packing up. 

“No, everything’s alright, sir,” Tom said before getting up with his laptop. “Great lecture. Learned a lot... and stuff.” 

“Good, good,” Dowling said. His glasses were slipping off his nose slightly, so he pushed them back up with his middle finger. “I did not expect you to have heard anything, by the way you and miss y/n were chatting.”

The professor’s words made Tom’s cheek burn up as he pushed the laptop back into its place in his bag. That man saw everything.Suddenly he felt as if he was in middle school again.

“Try to not make it a habit.” 

“No, sir,” Tom said.

Dowling just nodded, meaning the conversation had ended and giving Tom permission to sprint out of the room. 

He wasn’t sure why he was in such a hurry. Maybe he was hoping to find y/n waiting outside the doors. He didn’t even know why he wanted to see her there. He just did. He had this urge just to watch her doodle in that notebook of hers. There was something so endearing about it. 

Alas, no one was waiting for him outside that door. Or even in the proximity of it. There was no one but groups of students making their way from and to class. 

Then, Tom realised that she must have run off to the cafeteria. Still, he decided against going there. As much as he wanted to talk to y/n again, he didn’t want to come off stalkerish. Besides, they’d have another class tomorrow. He could speak to her then. 

“Ayo! Holland!” Tom looked over to a group of people he recognised to be his friends. They were gathered around one of the large windows that was open in the hallway. He waved to them before making his way over. 

“What’s up, man? You looked like a lost puppy.” Jacob said. 

“No nothing, I just zoned out a little, I guess.” Tom shook his head, clearing it off thoughts of y/n. 

“Well, we were thinking,” his best friend and fellow Delta Kappa resident, Harrison joined in on the conversation, “There is this new bar opening next week. The… something- shit, what’s it called again?” He looked over at the rest of the group. 

“The Sterling,” it was Zendaya that answered. She was sitting on the window sill with both legs in front of her, not living much space for anyone else to sit. She had something between her fingers, and Tom could not make out if it were a regular cigarette or a joint. (The smell insinuated at nicotine, so that answered for itself.) The fact that they were on campus did not make much difference to them. She took a drag and blew the smoke out, before handing it to Harrison. 

“So, Holland, you’re in?” 

“Yeah of course.” There’s nothing like the hysteria of drinking yourself sick in some new dingy place across campus. A new one would open up every few months because its predecessor would get shut down after too many accounts of selling alcohol to minors. It had almost become a game for younger students to see how quickly they can destroy a business. Tom and Harrison had been record holders for a while. Five weeks. Tom wasn’t exactly sure how anyone could tell they were the reason for The Six-Ball to close, but it didn’t matter. (“With a name like that, they deserve to shut down,” Harrison had joked before ordering two Long Island Iced Teas.)

Now that they were of the legal drinking age, of course, maybe it wasn’t as fun to go to those shitty holes in the wall, but with the right people, they made it a party every time. 

“Nice! So-” Jacob started talking about how he thought the night had to go, but Tom was already zoned out again. Between Zendaya and Harrison, he had the perfect view of the small grass field. Some people had sat down there with their friends to enjoy the midday, but most people still considered it too cold to sit outside. But what Tom was looking at was behind the grass field. It was the cafeteria doors. He saw that large sweater again. y/n walked out, holding something that looked like a sandwich. Tom smiled to himself. 

“What are you smiling about?” He got nudged in the ribs by someone. 

“Oh, you know, the uhm-” he had no idea what the rest of his friends had been talking about to include in his lie.

“I know,” Harrison said, lounging his arm across Tom’s shoulder to point in the same direction that Tom had been looking at. Tom froze up when he pointed straight at y/n with his finger. 

“Angela Pikowski.” 

“What?” It took Tom a second, but indeed, right in front of y/n, stood Angela with her own group of friends. She laughed at something, whipping her bottle bleached blonde hair across her shoulder. He understood too, how Harrison had caught her so quickly in his vision, for she had her jacket open and her shirt was pretty tight and low cut. How did that girl not catch pneumonia or some shit? 

“You ain't slick, bro.” Harrison patted him on the back. Tom, not wanting to get into it more than he needed, just grinned awkwardly. When he looked out into the square, Angela still stood there, but y/n was gone. 

_________________________________

The campus food was never that good, but it didn’t matter. The feelings of having actual food in your body felt so good that it might as well have been a five-course meal from a three-star Michelin restaurant. While, in reality, it was just a little bacon, egg and salad sub on stale bread. 

It did not matter. 

You enjoyed your breakfast as you walked down the path, back to your dorm. After that horrendous morning, and the pretty… interesting lecture, you were ready to lock yourself up in a room and do nothing but watch Netflix. And thankfully, due to having only one morning class, you could actually do it too.  

You said your polite “Hi”s and “Hello”s as you passed some other people you recognised from other classes. A bit hopefully, you were on the lookout for your (still nameless!) friend from the lecture. You really had to figure out what his name was. 

By the time you had reached your dorm building, your sandwich was gone. A part of you was still hungry, but you ignored that. You were probably just bored anyway. 

The dorm hall was basic in every way, from the carpeted grey floor to the plainly painted walls. But the inhabitants, of course, did try to give it some life. They hung up posters and banners, flags and lights. You reached the door that was decorated with a collage of different 80s glam rock artists and walked into your room. That college had been a little bonding experience with your roommate, Marie, during the very first week of Freshman year.

When you walked in, your eyes were immediately drawn to the lump on one of the beds. A groan erupted from underneath it when you switched on the light. 

“Ruuuude,” Marie yelled out. She came out from beneath the sheets. Her hair was bigger than ever, and you could see the mascara and eyeshadow stains under her eyes, and there was still some glitter on her. 

“You know, you should take off your make-up before going to sleep,” You said as you took off your sweater. 

“You know, you should put some on before leaving the house,” she said before diving back underneath her sheets. 

“Ouch,” you both laughed. But you couldn’t help but take a look in the mirror as you passed it. Maybe you could have used some concealer under your eyes, but it wasn’t that bad. Right? 

The room the two of you lived in maybe wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either. You were definitely one of the luckier people in the building. Your room, after all, had just enough space for the two beds, desks and closets to mirror each other on each side of the room. You also went the extra way to put up some extra shelving on your side above the bed, since one closet was not enough. 

“Didn’t you have class this morning as well?” you asked as you sat down on. You could hear something coming from Marie that resembled an “Mhm”. Not in the talking mood, got it. 

So, in quiet, you pulled out your laptop and searched for something that did not look mind-numbingly dumb to watch, eventually settling for a show you had probably watched five times out of pure overwhelming of choice. After a while of moving around in your bed, you found a comfortable position at last and turned the show on, ready for a day of uninterrupted laziness. 

_________________________________

Tom got home a bit later than he had hoped. After making plans for the next night, his friends were determined to go out for lunch as well. What he thought would be just a quick grab-and-go, turned out to be a full two-hour lunch where they talked about anything and nothing. 

He loved the company of people, but not on Mondays. Mondays were his day to do nothing except for going to class, and Tom felt like he had already done too much. 

When he did get back, people were still busy cleaning the aftermath of the party. It had gone a bit wilder than Tom remembered. Some jackass had decided to spray paint one of the upstairs hallways, and the colour was not easy to get off. Luckily, it had become almost a custom for all the house members to lock their doors during a party. For privacy sake firstly, but like anything at Delta Kappa, it turned a bit into a game. 

The first two unlock their door, either if the person was too tired to stay at the party or wanted to bring a guest into their room, was obliged to do something horrible. It was up to the rest of the house to decide what. Fortunately for Tom, he had not been the first to unlock his door that night. That luck fell on poor Billy.

Even if it came to be so, the rule didn’t make sense because no one could check who the first one was to open their door and even if- it was not an official Delta Kappa rule. That meant that, even if the person got caught to be the first, they could simply deny the dare. They would be known as Head Chicken, of course, but there were worse things in life. 

Tom moved up the stairs, saying hi to a few of his roommates, feeling very lucky as one of the senior members of the house, he did not have cleaning duty. Most of that was up to the pledges anyway. 

He remembered when he had to do all those tasks and shit to get into the house. It was so stupid; he didn’t even understand why he chose to be in a fraternity, in the first place. 

He did think the other guys had gone a bit softer on himself and Harrison since at the beginning of it all, they had been chosen by the sorority of Alpha Zeta Zeta as the favourites. Still, some unspeakable things had been done that year. 

But now that he lived in a giant house with some of his best friends, it all felt like it was a bit worth it. He had a great time at Delta Kappa. 

One of the best pros, by far, was that he had his own bedroom. Spacious for everything he needed plus a bit more. A large, unmade, bed waited for him when he opened the door. That, and the happy barks of Tessa. 

“Hello, darling,” he bent down to pet her as she jumped to his knees. Tessa was the official mascot of the fraternity, but she had very early on found a great liking to Tom. It only took her a few days to get settled in his room, and from then on, she wouldn’t sleep anywhere else. 

Tom moved up to his bed, and Tessa gladly joined him. She patted down a circle before lying down with her head on his chest, letting out a satisfied huff of air. Even if he wasn’t comfortable, Tom had no way out anymore. He was stuck. With nothing else to do, he took out his phone and went through his notifications.

Some texts from Harrison and Jacob, a missed call from that girl he made the mistake of giving her his number. People were getting Wi-fi again because he got at least twenty different Snapchat pictures and videos from the party. 

What else there was plenty of, were Instagram mentions and tags. He went through the photos, smiling. It really had been a great party. Then, something popped up in his mind. 

Property of: y/f/n 

y/f/n

Could it be that easy? He could just search for her and hope to find her account. He typed it in. Her first name was already enough to get plenty of results. As always the profile pictures were too small to really make out a true identity, so he made his way through the accounts. 

He only needed three tries, though. The picture already resembled her, so with hope, he clicked on the account. 

This account is private. Follow this account to see their photos and videos. 

Tom sighed. Not so easy after all. Then he saw the bio. It was a bit vague, just a few random emojis. But what interested him was the Followed by and the fifteen mutual followers that she had. It couldn’t be anyone else. 

For some unknown reason, his heart was beating in his throat as he clicked on the blue Follow button and watched it turn grey. Now it was just a matter of waiting until his request got accepted. Or maybe denied. Who knows. 

_________________________________

Watching a show for the fifth time got a bit boring. You could still laugh at the jokes, but at the same time, you could also almost flawlessly quote it as the scene went along. So, a few episodes in you took out your phone and started scrolling through various app feeds.

Marie had fallen back to sleep since you could hear her snore in her bed. And you were falling asleep slowly too. It was so warm in your room, and your bed was so soft and comfortable. Your eyes were getting heavier by the second. 

Then a notification popped up, brightening up the screen in your hand. Half-awake, you tried to read it. 

(your account): Tom Holland (@tomholland2013) has requested to follow you. 

Tom? Your mind took a moment to process. Then the face finally clicked to the name. Tom! His name was Tom! 

Without much further thought you accepted the request and before you even put your phone down, you fell asleep. 

_________________________________

Not to sound desperate, Tom waited for a good half hour before rechecking his phone. He clicked on the Instagram app and the search icon. Her account was still the last one from the recent searches he made. Tom clicked on the account and, to his unexplained surprise, he was greeted with a gallery of pictures. 

He had noticed earlier that the count on top of the page said 53 Posts. Interested, he clicked on the first one. It was a picture of a coffee cup. It wasn’t tagged, but Tom recognised it to be from that café Le Moulin. He saw the distinctive black windmill on the napkin that could not be missed. 

He scrolled down. 

It was a selfie from last summer. The filter slightly enhanced her bright smile on the picture, but Tom could tell it was more to show off the warm atmosphere of her holiday destination. The next photo was from the same holiday, he assumed, of her and a group of friends. He recognised the girls from campus. When he tapped the picture for the tags, he saw their names. @tiffani.btx @bonne_marie @lucywithnodiamonds 

He thought to have spotted that Marie chick at the party. She was French if he remembered correctly. She was definitely a wild one. Might have even grinded up against him during one of the better songs that were played. 

There were some more selfies, solo and with friends, sunsets and landscapes. The picture quality got worse as he scrolled down. It matched with the timeline. People should not be keeping up their pictures from seven years ago, especially not with all those fucked up filters they used back then. Tom was, of course, one of those people. 

He scrolled to the last picture; it was of a dog—one of the cutest little labrador puppies. 

Out of nowhere, Tessa barked in her sleep, making Tom jump up. This sudden movement, in its turn, woke the dog up completely. Tessa kept barking. 

“Right, I think it’s time for a walk, what do you think?” He patted Tessa on the head as she tried to lick his arm. Tom got up and was about to leave his room when he realised he almost forgot his phone. The screen hadn’t turned off yet, so he looked at the puppy again. But something was off this time. Something had changed. 

The little blank heart under the image- it was now pink. 

He accidentally liked her oldest picture. 

_________________________________

There were two types of naps. Those that made you feel amazing and refreshed by the time you got up. And those that made you feel like you had fallen asleep on a bed of rocks. You felt even worse than before when you woke up. Your head was throbbing, and your bra had pushed itself into every possible part of your chest, making it that much more uncomfortable. 

“What time is it?” you asked Marie, but she was still asleep. 

The light of your phone almost blinded you, so you quickly put down the brightness. It was around four o’clock. Meaning you had slept for a good three hours. 

Besides the time, you checked your notifications. There were not a lot of them. A few spam emails, a few texts in a group chat you never responded too and… a like on Instagram? 

tomholland2013 liked your photo. 1 h 

You had to think back to the moment before your nap to remember that he had in fact requested to follow you. And you had accepted it. 

You clicked on the notification, and it sent you to the liked picture. To your surprise, it was the picture of your family dog, Spot. Your family had picked the name even though he was a completely yellow labrador, loving the irony. 

It was your first-ever picture, from over seven years ago. Had he been stalking your account? Why the fuck would he do that? 

Well, you thought, it was only fair if I do it too. So, through the like, you made your way over to his account. 

First thing you noticed was the number of followers he had. 15.7k How the fuck do people even get those numbers? Well, it’s easier if you’re a hot frat guy, of course. 

His profile picture was a mirror selfie, and clearly, it was his favourite composition, for at least five out of the first nine pictures in the gallery were the same style. All full-body reflections, with him holding the phone in his right hand, leaning his head a bit to look at the screen as he took the picture. His lips weren’t exactly in a smirk, but there was that cockiness in there. He really was feeling it, that was obvious. 

The first picture was a classic mirror pose- A black jacket and a black hat: the same outfit he had been wearing in class. You looked at the timestamp and saw that he only posted it an hour ago. Already it had dozens of comments and a low thousand amount of likes.

You scrolled down. A denim jacket and beanie in the mirror; a grey t-shirt and sweats in the mirror; a black suit in the mirror, the list could go on. There were other pictures, mostly from the frat house parties and other events where alcohol played a significant role. There were also the occasional front camera selfies. 

You couldn’t help but look at those a little bit longer. There was something about that small tight smile that he made that was so cute. In one of the more saturated pictures, with a deeper shadow, you noticed that his nose actually had a little bump in it, most likely from breaking it in the past. 

But just from likes alone, you could tell that the mirror was a public favourite. 

There was something about the confidence that the pictures portrayed that spoke to you.. He knew he looked good, and no one could deny it. Except, he looked so much better than good. 

It was interesting to be scrolling down his posts because it was like a trip back in time. At first, it didn’t wasn’t that obvious, just maybe a change in temperature during the year that was referenced through his clothing. Then it showed a bit more as his hair started to get shorter by each picture taken. It got shorter and shorter until his hair was not much more than a buzz. The reason for the drastic hair change was explained in the next picture. 

You had already scrolled down four years worth of pictures, and this one was of him (taken by someone else). Tom was standing in a victory stance on a grass field, which you recognised to be the campus square. He was only wearing boxer shorts and on his chest was painted, in bright blue paint, 𝜟K. Underneath the post, read the caption: Delta Kappa babyyy! with a bunch of other hashtags. One that was included was #deltakappapledge #initiated. Of course, it was during his pledge period. 

You kind of hoped that he had to do more than just shave off his hair because he didn’t even look half that bad. It even suited him actually. Hoping to find some more evidence of that embarrassing period, you scrolled on. 

The sound that came out of your mouth as you scrolled to the next picture was inhumane. Keeping to tradition, it was a mirror selfie. Behind him seemed to be some workout equipment, possibly from the campus gym, but no one would look at that. Everyone would be too focused on what was in the foreground. 

It was Tom standing in front of a mirror, chest glistening with sweat as his hair draped in front of his eyes. Instead of the usual pose, he stood sideways, showing off not only his flexed bicep as he took the picture, but also the outline of all his other muscles.

Completely forgetting what you were doing, you double-tapped the post. How could you not? Only a second later, did your monkey brain realise what you had done. You had made that exact same mistake as Tom. Except while he had liked a picture of a cute dog, you had made your mark on a shirtless selfie.

As the pure humiliation flooded over you, you threw your phone to the other end of the bed with a squeak. 

What’s done was done. 

_________________________________

Tom came back from the walk with Tessa after an hour. They both enjoyed a long walk around the park neighbouring the campus, just to then pretend like they were too exhausted and lay in bed the rest of the day. Well, Tom pretended. Tessa seemed legitimately tired. 

They went back to their position on the bed. Not sure what else to do, Tom got back to Instagram. There was no reaction to his accidental like yet. Not even a follow back from y/n. A bit rude but okay, maybe she hadn’t seen it yet? 

He shook his head. He didn’t like this weird side of him. Where had it even come from? Since when did he wait for anyone to respond to him? And they weren’t even having a conversation! 

Having nothing else to do, he searched through his phone gallery for a good picture to post. He chose one he had taken during lunch, on his way from the bathroom. It was still crazy that his friends wanted to go to a place where you needed to take an elevator to go to the toilet. 

He didn’t care for editing, so he went through the usual Instagram process of making a post, thought of some dumb caption and send it out into the internet. Soon enough, as if they had a notification on for his activities, the likes streamed in.  For the first few minutes, he tried to look through them, again hoping that y/n would be one of the likes or the heart eyes emojis in the comments, but quickly it became too much, and Tom couldn’t keep up. He still enjoyed reading the comments.

Of course, it was all one big ego boost. The praise and compliments, even if it was for something as shallow as his looks, definitely gave him a good kick of dopamine and all those other happy chemicals during the day. 

Tessa was snoring and drooling on his belly as Tom went through his timeline and explore page. There was not much exciting happening in peoples’ lives, but it made the time flow by faster. An hour had gone by probably when he decided to recheck his activities. His new picture already had a few thousand likes and was close to reaching a hundred comments.  He went through some of them and either liked them or responded with a matching emoji. 

But as he scrolled through the activity, he saw a like that was to a different picture. A rather old one too, just from the beginning of college. And who might have liked this picture? y/n 

She liked a workout selfie, huh?

With the confidence that the like gave him, Tom clicked on her account and the message button. He thought about what to send for a moment but decided against overthinking it and went with a simple- 

_________________________________

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Hi 

You looked at the notification for a while. He definitely saw you had liked his old picture. Was he going to make fun of you? Tease you how you had outed yourself for thirsting over him? 

But maybe he just wants to talk? You tried to sound optimistic to yourself. After all, he did like an old picture of yours too. You were kind of in the same boat.   

Putting all worries aside, you clicked on that damn nerve-wracking notification, and without much more thought send out the reply. 

(y/n)

Hey :) 

Before you could even send out the smiley, the message rose to reveal “SEEN” beneath it. Was this happening? Was it? You could see he was typing. 

(tomholland2013)

After stalking me you could have at least followed me back lol 

(y/n)

Right sorry just a lot of mirror selfies. Thought i’d seen everything there is to see 😂

(tomholland2013)

Rude Seen anything you like though? ;)

Uhhh, of course, you have. You liked it. A lot. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. 

(y/n) 

No not really 

Quickly change the subject. 

So what are you up to? 

Good enough subject? 

(tomholland2013) 

Just lying in bed with Tess

Tess? Who was Tess? Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, he would have posted something on his Instagram, right? That’s what couples did? Unless it was just a one time fling. You couldn’t even call it a one-night stand since it wasn’t even night. 

Wait, why did you even care about that? You had literally only said hello to each other and shared a coffee during class. 

But the curiosity was gnawing at you.

(y/n) 

Tess? 

(tomholland2013)

Yeah, she’s falling asleep on my chest. Kinda tired her out lol

You looked at the text, unsure how to respond, or even if to do it. Was he telling you about his hookup?  It didn’t sound like the nice guy you had met in front of the lecture hall, and that gave you his leftover coffee and Oreos. Your face wrenched into a grimace, not sure anymore what to make of this conversation or of what had happened during class.

He was typing again. 

Wanna see? 

Jesus Christ, this was a mistake. You didn’t respond, but he still sent you a picture anyway. It was a timer, unfortunately, meaning you had to click on it to see what he had sent. But he could see you got the message and that you were online. The longer you took, the more prominent you would make it that something was wrong, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He had given you his coffee. 

The curiosity got the better of you once again, though, and you clicked on the little bomb. What popped up was almost what you expected- but at the same time, so not. Before your brain properly processed what you were looking at, you were scared that he had sent you an unsolicited dick pic, but it was the furthest thing from that. 

What you saw was a POV shot of his chest and legs. He was indeed lying on his bed. On his chest, however, was the head of a grey silver dog. “Tess” had her eyes closed peacefully as she slept on. 

Of course, it was a dog. 

You decided to be honest. For the benefit of the conversation, if anything. 

(y/n) 

Omg 💀 

(tomholland2013)

We just came back from a long walk, so she’s pretty knackered  What?  Did you think I meant something else? 

Embarrassment kicked in anyway. 

(y/n) 

No... lol 

(tomholland2013)

You sooo did lmao Jealous much ;)

(y/n) 

Of the dog maybe

(tomholland2013) 

Cause she gets to be here with me? 

(y/n)

No I meant it like  She’s so cute  I want one

(tomholland2013)

Relax  I was just messing with you  But if you ever wanna come over

(y/n) 

Maybe another time 

The response came out in a panic. Had he invited you for what you thought he did? No, there was no way he did. Besides, you couldn’t go to his house. You barely knew the guy- your mind kept on whirring about it. But the conversation continued.

Soon the sun had gone down, and it got dark outside, but the messages kept coming in. At one point Marie finally woke up from her hangover slumber. Drowsily she got up and headed for the shower with a towel and toiletries bag in her hand. Before she left, though. She asked you if you could prepare something to eat for dinner since she was starving. You being you, agreed.

(y/n)

Hey, I think I gotta go for a bit. Gotta make dinner for my roommate

(tomholland2013) 

What’s on the menu? 

(y/n) 

Probably spicy ramen? 

(tomholland2013) 

Damn. sounds good But can’t she make it herself? 

_________________________________

A part of Tom wanted to send another message. I want to keep talking to you. But that felt like a bit much. She was typing again anyway. 

(y/n) 

Because she’s still hungover from your party lol Thank for that btw 

(tomholland2013) 

You make it sound like i am personally responsible 

(y/n) 

Well your the only guy from DK i know so  you’re**  💀fml. There go my chances of an english degree 

(tomholland2013) 

Nah babe YOU’RE good ;)

 _________________________________

Your heart fluttered at the little word, for no reason. It was just a text message. He probably called every girl he texted that. Still, the sentiment was there. Also that winky face of his. Could he stop? 

He started to type again. 

(tomholland2013) 

But if you ever wanna meet the other guys, you really are welcome to come over. 

(y/n) 

I’m good thanks. 

Going to a frat house alone? You felt like that could easily be the start of your personal horror movie. It would absolutely crash at the box office, but that didn’t matter. And it was the second time he invited you to come over. If it was a hint, it wasn’t a subtle one. It didn’t stop you from doubting it.

(tomholland2013)

No need to be scared. They’re pretty chill dudes. 

It was cute how he could read your mind because you were undoubtedly scared, but what he probably did not think was that you weren’t interested in meeting any other frat guy because there was only one on your mind at the moment. 

(y/n) 

Maybe another time  ttyl? 

You had sent the last message in the hopes that he had as much fun talking to you as you did with him. You watched eagerly as the three dots danced around on the screen while he typed out his answer. 

(tomholland2013)

 Absolutely

_________________________________

Tom turned his phone off with a smile covering his face. He had just spent talking a good two hours to y/n, and he had to admit, he hadn’t had that pleasant of a conversation with anyone in a long time. It was just so easy to talk to her. It might be partly because it was only texts. But still, she was funny, sweet, and so pretty...

Unbeknown to himself, he was falling a little bit for y/n. Although, maybe he did feel it coming. The idea of getting another text from her made his face heat up. The idea of seeing her in class the next day almost made him… giddy. And it’s only been a day. 

“Hey, man,” there came a knock on his door. “Better hide anything that would make it awkward between us cause I’m coming inside in 3-2-1-” 

“‘S all good,” Tom said right as Harrison walked through the door. 

“We’re gonna order pizza, what do you want?”

“Just the usual, I guess,’ Tom shrugged. Honestly, he didn’t really feel like eating pizza but to be the only one that wasn’t having any wasn’t a good strategy either. 

“Alright, then.” As quickly as he walked in, Harrison was also leaving the room. But he peeked his head through the door once more before actually walking away. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re good?” Harrison looked at him through narrow eyes.

“Yeah,” Tom answered as he prodded himself to sit up. “Why?” 

“I don’t know… Nevermind.” And with that, Harrison left to share Tom’s order. 

It was a rare occasion that all the house members would be at home on a night that wasn’t reserved for a party. That night, when it came to dinner, it was around 8 of them. Everyone was already sitting on the couches when Tom came downstairs to grab his pizza. He grabbed a chair and his box and sat down. A football game was playing on tv, and it made Tom roll his eyes. He still had no real idea of how football was supposed to work. He always preferred golf or basketball, or even baseball. 

The guys cheered at a touchdown or whatever but all Tom could focus on was his phone. He kept checking if there were any notifications from y/n. So far, there was nothing. She was probably busy, he told himself, not wanting to feel too disappointed. 

 _________________________________

“So who were you texting back then?” Marie said as she slurped on her noodles. You were playing around with your own portion a bit, not really in the eating mindset.

“Huh? No one.” you shook your head.  

“So it is someone. C’mon. Who is it?” She extended her leg to poke yours. She kept going until you finally gave in. 

“Just this guy from Dowling’s class.” you finally took a bite of ramen. 

“Aaand does this guy have a name?” Marie kept on asking. 

You looked up from your cup of noodles. “Tom… Holland.” 

Marie gasped, almost dropping her food onto her lap. “Tom Holland? As in Delta Kappa Tom Holland?’ you nodded your head yes. “No fucking way.” 

“What?” Not the most nuanced reaction, but it would do. 

“No way you have a crush on Tom fucking Holland.” You always noticed that when Marie cursed her French accent would show up again. Just the slightest bit. This time, however, what you stayed on was her statement. 

“I do not!” you said as your cheeks were heating up. 

“Ohhh, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said ‘nobody’. Everybody knows that ‘nobody’ is code for either crush, boyfriend, or drug dealer. And I think we can exclude the last option.” you were going to protest, but you would have only been fooling yourself. 

“So, hypothetically, let’s say I do have a crush on him. Why did you scream out ‘No way’?” You bit your lip, a bit scared for an answer. 

“No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” Marie put down her ramen on her desk and came to sit down next to you on your bed. “I didn’t mean that you, like, don’t have a chance with him. Please, if anything, you’re too good for him.’ you both chuckled. “I just didn’t think he’d be your type.” 

“What, hot?” You raised an eyebrow to which she slapped your shoulder. 

“You’re being difficult. I mean, so… out there. You know, he’s basically the leader of that frat house, he always parties, always has stuff to go to. And you’re… well, pretty much the exact opposite. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Completely not. I just don’t want you to put yourself in any positions that you’re uncomfortable with to impress him or anything. Remember, you are too good for him.” 

“Thanks.” you hugged her from the side. “But don’t you think that it would be good for me to go out once in a while? Out of my comfort zone?”

“Sure, if you’re actually doing it for you. Not some guy.” 

“He is really nice, you know.” you smiled, remembering what had happened that morning. You went on telling Marie about it. 

“Oh, so he’s got a crush on you too, huh? That works out perfectly. ” She finally said when you were done telling your story. You looked at her with wide eyes. 

“What? Noooo,” you said, letting an awkward laugh escape through the no. 

“Fine, whatever,” Marie moved back to her own bed and grabbed her cup of ramen. “But I bet you that if you check your phone now, you’ll have at least one message from him.” 

You rolled your eyes again but grabbed your phone either way. And, fair enough, you had two notifications from ten minutes ago. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Heyy

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: I hope the ramens good

Holding in your smile, and ignoring the smart ass comments of Marie, you replied quickly. 

(y/n)

It was :)

_________________________________ 

The speed at which Tom checked his phone when he felt the vibration in his pocket could have caused someone severe whiplash. He responded to the text and got up. Ultimately, he had hoped that he could slip out the room unnoticed, but he never got what he wanted, did he? 

“Where are you going?” It was Dave that saw him get up. Tom stopped in his tracks like a little kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Just up to my room. Feelin’ a bit tired.’ He explained. This answer received several strange and confused looks, but Tom ignored those and just walked upstairs without saying another word. He plopped down onto his bed. Tessa was still downstairs under the table chewing on some pizza crusts, so he was finally alone. 

The texting continued through the whole night, and Tom had wholly lost the sense of time. He didn’t even feel tired. If it wasn’t for y/n saying that she was about to fall asleep, he wouldn’t at least. Like that, the windshield crashed, and he felt the fatigue from the hours of messaging and staring at a screen overwhelm him. He just about managed to send out goodnight before his eyelids were too heavy to open up again. 

_________________________________

The next morning you woke up feeling much better than either time the day before. Fresh and energised, with plenty of time to get ready before class started. Not that you really put much effort into how you looked for the morning lectures. It was more mental preparation. With enough time to eat breakfast, shower and brush your teeth, you felt excellent walking out the door. Dressed in a sweater that was warmer than two jackets and some loose jeans. With your bag over your shoulder. 

You always thought the walk from your dorm to the lecture halls was delightful. The path leading toward it was enveloped in a tunnel of trees, and during the end of the year, when the leaves were turning into their auburn and golden shades, it almost felt warmer than in summer. Because the harsh wind still kept up with its schedule. It blew in your face as you walked, rubbing against your cheeks. 

When you got there, the lecture hall was still relatively empty. Only a few other people had taken their seats. This was the crucial moment of choosing your seat. Against all your own instincts, you walked down to the bottom of the auditorium, into the fourth row. You had never sat that closer to professor Dowling’s podium, too scared you would be too easy to notice and called to answer a question. But something in you told you to be brave. 

Besides, you had the idea that Tom wasn’t eager to sit there either.

As much as those butterflies in your stomach fluttered at his mention, you didn’t want to talk to him now, not during class. You needed to pass this class badly and to do that, you needed to focus. Something you could not do with him sitting next to you. 

That’s what you told yourself. It was, of course, true, but the bigger problem was that you were scared. Tom sounded like a nice guy, a very good looking nice guy, but Marie’s words played in your head. He was from a completely different world. And it was a scary one. Why not keep a bit of a safe distance at first?

So, you kept your head buried in your notebook as people started to stream into the room. One by one, the seats around you were getting occupied—none of them by Tom, for better or for worse. 

_________________________________

It had taken Tom a while to find y/n. He walked into the room, thinking he had come in with plenty of time to spare, but as he was making his way down the steps, the professor was already making his way to the podium. Tom tried to look around the room as quickly as he could, but he could not see her. Where was she? 

Professor Dowling coughed loudly, indicating for everyone to shut up and sit down, so he could start the lecture. Tom took the first empty seat he saw. An aisle seat somewhere around the 8th row. The course started, but Tom’s eyes stayed on the seats, looking for that braid. 

It wasn’t a brilliant plan, because he had no idea if she had actually kept that braid in for another day. And she had not, in fact. He noticed her, sitting somewhere at the bottom of the class, as she grabbed her hair and was pulling it up into a bun. She did it so quickly, so smoothly, without ever letting her attention get away from her. Focused on the class. He could really learn something from her. 

And he tried to take a page from her book as he finally looked ahead of him to see Dowling write an entire essay on the blackboard. He cursed himself and quickly started to type everything over. His fingers went in fully automatic mode, and he had no more idea what the words he was typing actually meant. 

His mind had wandered off once again. He couldn’t stop feeling that disappointing pull at his heartstrings. He had hoped they could have had a repeat of yesterday. She apparently thought differently. Or maybe she had hoped he would sit next to her, but he was just too slow? 

The lecture went on forever, felt like. Tom’s fingers were cramping up from typing so much, and he could feel his back beginning to hurt in the uncomfortable chair. He kept stealing quick glances at y/n, hoping to catch her in doing the same, but she had not moved once. 

He had to get a grip. They had known each other for one day, spoken maybe ten sentences to each other in person. The rest was all through text. And nothing was the same via messages. Maybe all his feelings were coming from the entirely wrong place? Perhaps she was just polite, and he had misinterpreted it for casual flirting? Besides, there was that sweater of hers yesterday- what if she had a boyfriend? 

But a part of him still wanted to ignore all those signs and go for it. So, when the bell rang, and professor Dowling finally dismissed the class, Tom made sure he was one of the first ones outside. The large hall had two exits, so he stood against a wall, somewhere in the middle between both doors, hoping to catch y/n as she was walking out. 

The loud rumbling of thunder caught his attention momentarily. 

It was just a second, he swore to himself. But the second was enough to miss her. Somehow she had escaped him, nowhere to be found.

_________________________________

You had seen Tom waiting out in front of the room, and you felt horrible for walking the exact opposite direction. For the sake of your own feelings, you didn’t look back at any point on your way to your second lecture. 

As Professor Phillips spoke, you felt your phone vibrate. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: where are you? :) 

The little smiley made heat up in the cheeks, but you tried to ignore that as you typed out a response. You didn’t even click the notification to go to the app, just responded through the shortcut. 

(y/n): had another class

Another notification popped up not long after. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: wanna meet up later? 

(y/n): ngl I don’t feel well, will probably head back home right after

(y/n): but i’d love to chat

You shut off your phone, too scared to see the reply. Maybe it wasn’t the best move since you could not think about anything else for the remainder of the class. When you checked your phone again on your way back to the dorms your heart was lifted. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: of course. hope you feel better <3

_________________________________

Tom tried to think that she wasn’t avoiding him. After all, they texted almost every possible second that they had the time for the past week

They had talked about pretty much anything and everything. And it felt great. The way they spoke to each other, or at least Tom to her, was as if they had known each other for ages. 

Tom only wished he could do that with her from across a table, or a on a bench. Where ever, he didn’t care. He wanted to be able to look into her eyes as they talked and see her smile. Hear that lol and not just imagine it. 

Unfortunately, y/n was kind of giving him the cold shoulder in the real life. She ignored him during classes, and was gone before he could get the chance to talk to her. Whenever he asked if they could meet, she’d give him some reason she couldn’t. If it wasn’t for the fact that they had actually already met in real life, he had vary valid reasons to think he was being catfished. 

Another reason could have been that she sounded too perfect.

It was the next Tuesday already, and Tom was waiting eagerly for the lecture to end. It had been a full week and he had decided, while copying some of Dowling’s notes, that he would talk to y/n today. After class. 

Tomorrow would be the opening of the Sterling and he wanted to ask her if she wanted to come.Or at least to know if she wanted to hang out ever. If the truth came to be no, he would be fine with that. He respected that. He just needed to know. It wouldn’t take away from the fact how great it was to have someone to talk to, even if it was only through text bubbles.

The bell rang and Tom sprinted out. He kept his eyes on both doors as best as possible and finally saw her. 

_________________________________

“Hey, y/n!” you heard your name being called from behind you. It was from Tom. He waved to you so would come over. Taking a deep breath, you decided to wave back, but your legs were frozen in place.

You felt absolutely terrible for ignoring him and denying his various invitations to hang out or to go anywhere, but it was just too terrifying. You were scared of fucking it up. Of it to turn out to be one big joke. You had heard of frat guys using dates and hookups as dares and shit. You didn’t want that. You couldn’t let that happen.

But when you saw Tom smile at you, those worries suddenly disappeared and your legs moved without connecting to your brain. Suddenly, you found your spot next to him.

He had been leaning against the wall with one foot, his arms crossed. You decided to lean against it with your shoulder. Even though you had your sweater, you could feel the grizzly texture of the bare red brick. He smiled and mirrored your movement, so you were only a few inches apart. ,

“Hey,” he said, still with the smile on his face. 

“Hey,” you replied. 

Tom uncrossed his arms to brush his fingers through his hair. As you watched him do so, you couldn’t help imagine how it would feel to play with his hair. It looked so soft. 

“I just wanted to say,” he licked his lips. You were so close to each other that you could see how pink and chapped they were. Focus. “How much fun I had the past week. It’s bee really great talking to you.” 

“I had fun too,” you said. It really was nice talking to Tom. Especially now, standing so close to him, you could smell the coffee he had consumed that morning. Was it pumpkin spice? You felt stupid for not letting it happen sooner.

“Great, that’s- that’s really great to hear. I said great already, didn’t I?” He laughed, shaking his head, “Anyway, I was thinking: a couple of friends of mine are going to the opening of this new bar, the Sterling, it’s probably going to be a bit boring, but I thought, maybe you’d like to come? With me?” He looked at you with those big brown eyes. Your mind started racing a million miles an hour at his words. The fuzzy warm feeling that you got from looking at his smile was dispersing and setting in for anxiety.

He wanted you to go to a bar with him and his friends? Would that be considered a date? For the sake of your dignity, you decided against asking for clarification. It didn’t matter. You couldn’t go to some dingy bar with strangers, even if one of them was Tom. You could already feel your body heating up in anxiety as all the horrible scenarios played out in your head. 

You realised you had been quiet for a while and Tom was still looking at you hopefully. 

“No,” you blurted out. “I mean, I can’t. Sorry.” 

“Oh, that’s fine. Totally. Maybe another time? Or if you don’t wanna go there, we could go somewhere else?” 

“Uhh,” you couldn’t breath. All his suggestions were so sweet, but it felt too overwhelming to answer. Thankfully, the clock tower at the other end of campus rang and indicated the quarter of an hour. Your next class would soon start, and it was about a five-minute walk to get to. 

“I have to go.” you pointed back and started walking, but Tom grabbed your hand gently, just enough by your fingertips. 

“Sorry, I just- if you don’t want to hang out with me, that’s totally fine. You don’t have to pretend to like me, no hurt feelings. I don’t want you to-” 

“I do, Tom,” you told him with a compassionate smile. Then you looked back at the clock. “But I really got to go.” 

“Right, sorry.” he let go of your hand, and you ran off to your next course. 

 _________________________________

“Who was that?” 

As soon as y/n ran off, Tom heard the voice coming from next to him. Zendaya popped up out of nowhere, an unlit cigarette hanging between her lips as she leaned in the same spot y/n had. 

“Just a friend,” Tom shrugged. That’s what they were, after all. If even. He hoped he could describe someone he had mainly only spoken through texts with as a friend. 

“You sure about that?” Zendaya smirked. “Cause by the looks of it, she’s got you pretty hooked. You were basically begging her to go out with you, bro.” 

“Yeah, well, forcefulness isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac, is it?” he sighed then almost turned pale at the words he had said. Zendaya didn’t say anything, just nodded and took out her glittery lighter. 

“Could you not?” Tom pulled the cigarette out of her mouth before she could light it and put it in his pocket. “We’re inside, for fucks sake.” 

“Fine, but tell me who this friend of yours is.” She nodded her head back into the direction that y/n ran in. 

“I don’t really know. I mean I do, but- Basically we met last week before class. Then I found her on Instagram and DM’d her-” 

“You slid into her DMs? Bro,” she laughed. 

“Call it what you want, it was the only way of reaching her I had.” 

“Fine, so you like her, yeah?” 

“I guess.” Tom didn’t like sharing his feelings. It put him in this vulnerable position that he was not used to. Zendaya knew that, yet still she pushed him to do it almost every time they talked. 

“For what it’s worth, I think she likes you too,” she said. 

“How so?” he questioned hesitantly. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Zendaya had pulled that trick on him to date someone. And it had not ended well. 

“Well, body language for one, she felt comfortable enough around you to stand close to you, facing you; she smiled at your rants which, props to her, is hard to do.” 

“How long had you been watching us, exactly?” Tom asked a bit freaked out. Zendaya ignored the question.

“Believe me, she likes you. She’s just scared.” she pulled out another cigarette from her pocket, “also, taking a girl to a shithole like the Sterling for your first date? I’m glad she said no. Set some standards, man.” And with that lovely comment, she walked away. She didn’t have to see Tom flipping her off, she knew he would do it, and she replied lovingly in the same way. 

That’s what you got for being friends with psychology majors. 

 _________________________________

The first thing you did after walking out of your second class was to check your phone if you had received any messages from Tom. There was nothing. So you decided to message him yourself. 

(your account) 

Hey  Sorry I ran away like that  And basically anytime after class and making those dumb excuses not to meet up Just so you know I do really wanna hang out with you I’m just not really great with crowds or with places like bars and stuff And ive also never really been asked to go anywhere with anyone, like personally  Idk why im telling you this. I’m definitely rambling Texting is definitely easier than talking huh Sorry for all this 

It took Tom two minutes to see your messages and to respond.

(tomholland2013)

It’s totally okay. I get it And sorry if i made you uncomfortable with all that.  Can i come to your place tonight? Or how about we go to Le Moulin?

Le Moulin. You had been there before. You could do that. With trembling fingers of excitement, you replied

(your account) 

Deal. Around 7?

(tomholland2013)

Sounds perfect. See u then 

 _________________________________

Tommo: Hey guys, sorry but im gonna have to skip on tonight 

This short message was seen and very much not appreciated by his friends. None of the replies could be seen as appropriate for day-time television. Except for the one Zendaya had sent him through their personal chat. It was simple, 

Z: 👍

With the entire afternoon off, Tom made sure he looked somewhat decent for the night. He took a shower. Washed his hair and made sure it was extra soft. He wasn’t sure what y/n thought of it, but from past experiences, he knew that usually, girls loved his hair. Thinking about other girls was probably not the best mindset, though. Still, his hair did look really good. He brushed his fingers through it. 

It had not yet stopped raining, which was a bit of a problem, but he hoped she wouldn’t mind getting a bit wet. For the sake of it, he took an umbrella with him. Luckily it wasn’t very windy, so it actually came to good use. The walk from the frat house to the dorm that y/n said she lived in wasn’t too far away, and fortunately on the way to the place he had in mind to take her to. 

On his way over, he thought about what Zendaya had told him. 

Was y/n scared? Of what? 

They had talked about that kind of stuff briefly, during the weekend, and she and said that she suffered from anxiety. Tom just thought it was stuff like giving a presentation in class. He hadn’t even thought about the more social aspect of it. And here he was pushing all those things at her like going to some bar with strangers. Jesus, why did he have to be such a dumbass? 

The dorm complex had a buzzer system like a regular apartment complex, so he searched for her name on the long list, and pressed the button next to it. 

“Hello?” It was her roommate, Marie, that answered. 

“Hey, it’s Tom. I’m here to pick up y/n.” He could hear some indistinct giggling coming from the other side of the line. 

“Of course, c’mon up. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit.” Next followed the buzzer, and the doors opened for him. The number on the button said 54, so he assumed it had to be on the fifth floor. When he walked up to the door with that number, he was greeted with a colourful collage of rock bands whose hair was probably more impressive than their vocal range, which said a lot considering Queen was on it. 

He knocked and waited for someone to open. y/n was the one to do it. She stood frozen in the door, only a towel wrapped around her body. 

“I thought we said seven?” she said, her voice a bit higher than usual.

“It’s quarter past seven!” Marie shouted out from inside the dorm. y/n cursed. 

“Shit, sorry, I lost complete track of time. Give me ten minutes, okay?” she held up a finger so he would wait here. Tom nodded and let her close the door again. He could still hear her yell at Marie as to why she had not told her she was running late, to which Marie only responded with hysterical laughter. 

“Holland?” someone in the hallway asked a few minutes later. Tom turned in the direction to see a guy with a head full of bed hair poke out of his doorway (which was covered in pictures of death metal posters and my little ponies). He stepped out in the hallway to reveal he was wearing nothing but a pair of tiny and tight briefs, leaving little to the imagination. 

“Oh hey… Crocker,” he called the guy by his preferred nickname. 

“Hey man, what are you doing here?” Crocker asked. The way his eyes were almost ruby red and the stench coming from his room, Tom presumed that the guy was higher than a kite. 

“Oh you know, waiting for a date, heh.” He said a bit awkwardly, pointing back to door 54. 

“Ah, getting some of that French jay nehsuh gwaa.” 

Tom looked confused. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard someone butcher a language that badly. Well, probably, but he didn’t remember it. He kind of understood what Crocker meant, though.

“No, I’m here for y/n. Not Marie.”

“Damn? Really.” Crocker started to giggle, which might as well just have been a side effect from whatever he had smoked up in his room. 

“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure how else to react. Crocker just shrugged and walked back into his room, smashing the door closed. Tom turned slowly, not sure what exactly had happened just then. And he turned right on time too, because the door of dorm 54 opened and y/n walked out. Wearing a raincoat over a sweater and jeans. She also had a pair of black ankle boots on. Tom could not help but smile at the sight of her. 

“Sorry about that,” she said, the nervousness in her voice was unmistakable. 

“First,” Tom spoke, remembering one of his earlier worries from days ago, “you don’t have a boyfriend, do you?” The question made her laugh.

“I very much do not. Why did you think that?” 

“The sweater you wore when we met. It had that whole stole-it-from-my-boyfriend vibe.” 

“No, I haven’t had anyone to steal clothes from in a long time.” she shook her head. Tom extended his hand for her to take, which she gladly did. It felt amazing.

“So what will you be ordering?” 

“Ice cream,” Tom answered, almost matter-of-factly. 

 _________________________________

“Ice cream?” you asked to make sure you had heard him correctly. He nodded in agreement. “Don’t you think it’s a bit cold for that?” 

“No.” He said bluntly, which really sold the case for you. You were on your way again.

You could hear the rain pound against the main door before you even reached the ground floor, and it only got harder and louder the nearer you got. Tom, being a true gentleman, opened the door for you, but you were a bit hesitant to walk outside. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” he let you hold the door so he could step through the threshold and push open the umbrella. You noticed it was a Delta Kappa umbrella. They really made merch of everything. As he put the umbrella up, he extended his arm for you to intertwine yours through. Then, you walked. 

Though it was relatively early, the sky was pitch black because of how early the sun set those days and the dark clouds that had been pestering the sky that entire day. Not a star was to be seen. The rain tapped heavily against the umbrella, and you tried to stay as close to Tom as possible. The excuse, of course, was to not get wet but really you wanted to enjoy the warmth that he was giving off. At one point you had changed position from just having your arm over his, to him wrapping his arm over your shoulder. 

You walked down a brightly lit path, so you could see everything around you. The trees, the cars passing by, the building. So, when you saw the little café at the end of the street, you squealed. 

While there were plenty of bars, pubs and clubs to go to around town, so there were restaurants and cafés. And while restaurants really weren’t your thing, you loved to sit in one of the cosy coffee shops with a cup of tea or coffee and read a good book. Another fun thing about all those places was that they were very internationally orientated, speaking to the wide variety of students that the university had. Le Moulin was of course based on a Parisian café. You had actually found it together with Marie, in hopes she could have something that felt a bit closer to home. Though it didn’t come close to the real magic of the French capital, it still had plenty of its charm in it. Not to mention, the pain du chocolats were to die for! 

Yet, you had never actually had ice cream from their menu. 

You still weren’t sure if today would be the day for it. By the time you wear under the little entrance roof, you were freezing, and so was Tom, visibly. 

“Are you still sure about the ice cream?” you asked him as he closed the umbrella.

“Hot chocolate?” he suggested, suddenly fluent in your love language: chocolate and hot drinks (it was a very simplified version of said love language). 

This time Tom got to be the real gentleman as he let you walk inside first. He dropped the umbrella in the stand, together with a few others. When you looked around the café, you saw that a few more couples were enjoying the cosiness. A sweet melody was playing from the speakers. The rain had also softened outside, and together with the vintage sounds of guitar and vocals, it gave the perfect atmosphere for the night.

You had barely stepped inside when one of the waiters walked up. He smiled and said: “Your table is ready,” which surprised you, but Tom took you by the hand, and you both followed the waiter to one of the tables next to the wall, where one side had a couch instead of the usual chairs. You sat down first, taking off your jacket. Tom was going to sit opposite you, but now it was your turn to grab his hand. 

“Slide in.”

He smiled and sat down. He probably didn’t need any convincing and just wanted to hear you say that you wanted him to sit next to you. You didn’t mind that. 

“Should I prepare the order?” the waiter asked as you made yourself comfortable, again confusing the hell out of you. 

“Actually, scrap that. We’ll have two large hot chocolates.” Tom said. 

“With cinnamon!” you added. 

“One with cinnamon.” Tom corrected. The waiter nodded and walked off. 

“Don’t like cinnamon?” you quizzed, to which Tom shrugged. 

“It’s alright, just not a big fan.” Both of you looked around the room. You had never been in the café at night, so you hadn’t even realised that the walls were covered in soft gold lights, giving it all that much more the feeling as if you had stepped into a fairytale. 

“I didn’t know this place took reservations.” 

“I’m not sure either,” Tom replied, you noticed he had his arm draped around you again, “I just called to be sure.”  

“Really?” That split you up into two. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought that he had made a special call to the café to get, probably, the best seat in the house. On the other side, you were freaking out for a few reasons. He had put in quite the effort in an almost last minute notice of plans, while you were fifteen minutes late. That was embarrassing enough. And this reservation basically put you in a spotlight for the entire business, which was really not ideal. You didn’t want to be noticed. 

“Hey,” he whispered and squeezed his grip around you lightly, “everything okay?” 

“Huh? Mhm,” you nodded your head and smiled, trying not to think about how the waiters might be judging you. 

“I saw you had posted a picture from this place on your Instagram, and I used to come here a while back, so I thought it would be cool, but if you don’t like it-” 

“It’s perfect,” you made up your mind. In the end, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. You felt safe, sitting on the little couch, next to Tom. 

Soon after, the waiter came back with two mugs of hot chocolate. When Tom ordered large ones, they delivered. The mugs might as well have been cereal bowls, topped with a peak of whipped cream and cocoa powder, and a cinnamon stick in your cup to distinguish the two drinks. 

“Et voila!” the waiter put the cups down. You thanked him, and he was gone again.

There were spoons, but you decided to stir your chocolate with the cinnamon stick. 

Still with his arm around you, Tom took his mug up to his lips. With the feeling of having him so close to you, you wondered what this really was. What if he just wanted to be friends and spend some time with you? Had he noticed how sad and lonely you were, and did he want to take his pity out on you? Were you a charity act for him? God, you hoped not. You really really hoped not.

“Tom?” You looked at him, to see his eyes dart in your direction. His top lip was covered in whipped cream. You gestured it to him, slightly giggling, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand. How was someone that hot, so adorable? 

“You were saying?” he said, putting the mug down on the table in front of you.

“I was just wondering,” Be quick, get it over with, you’ll feel better when you say it. “is this a date?” 

“Do you want it to be? It doesn’t have to.” He added the second part quickly after.

“I- I think I do,” I smiled. Though he had just put his mug down, he picked it right back up, you did the same.

“Then a date it is.” You clinked cups. Still, something felt off. You were holding the cup up to your lips, but just far enough not to be able to drink from it. Your eyes glazed over as you focused them on the mural in front of you. It was of the Paris skyline. With the Eiffel tower in the middle, the Arc de Triomphe a bit to the left, on the other side stood the two symmetrical towers of the Notre Dame cathedral. It was probably geographically inaccurate, just good enough to keep everyone who had never been to the City of Love satisfied. 

“Okay, something’s up.” Tom brought you back to the date. “What’s wrong? And, please, be honest.” 

“I don’t know,” you huffed out a laugh. “But before you start to freak out, it’s nothing to do with you, I swear.”

“So, you kind of know what it is about.” he raised an eyebrow. He had a point. If you knew what it was not, it meant you knew what it was, indeed. 

“I, uhm,” suddenly you felt very much aware of everything and everyone around you. Were they listening? “Well, I really want to apologise for being so distant outside of Instagram.” 

“There’s really no need for that, darling,” he said. “I understand it, and should have been a bit more considerate. I should have realised sooner that bars and shit aren’t your cup of tea.. or hot chocolate.” 

You both laughed. 

“Yeah,” you were smiling, but the word came out a bit as a sigh, conveying your all the troubling thoughts that were going on in your brain.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Tom saw through it. You bit your lip, not sure how to say it. You didn’t want to say it. He would probably think you were a joke. Besides, all those people around. Some of them from your school. They could probably hear every word you were saying.

“Do you maybe want to text it to me?” he suggested with a kind smile. You hadn’t realised when he had moved, but he had let go of your shoulders, and his hand was now on top of yours. His thumb moved slowly over your skin, reassuring you that, whatever it was, it was okay. 

How you hoped it was. 

You grabbed your phone and started to type out your message, taking a deep breath before sending it to him. You heard the vibration in his pocket, and with it, your heart skipped with anxiety. Tom kept holding on to your hand as he took out his phone and read the text. His eyes shot wide open. 

“Wait, really?” 

 _________________________________

“Never?” he asked, to which she bit her lip and shook her head. 

No, it wasn’t possible. 

“How has no one- nooo,” 

“It just… never got far enough- No, I mean, ugh,” she finally took a sip of her hot chocolate. Tom had to admit that it was cute how that was her go-to frustration action. She wiped off the whipped cream from her lip. Tom couldn’t stop looking at them, they were just so perfect. He wanted to feel her, to taste her. He wouldn’t even mind the taste of cinnamon that would have remained on them. 

“There was just never a guy that made me think, oh yeah, I want to kiss him,” she said after another sip of the hot chocolate. 

“So, you’d want to kiss me?” 

“Shut up,” she said glaring, but just to hide the big smile on her face. 

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’ve never been kissed.” She flinched a bit at his words. “I don’t mean it in that way. You shouldn’t be ashamed of never being kissed. Sometimes it happens early on, sometimes it doesn’t. If it wasn’t for my pledge, I don’t think I would have had my first kiss till last year.” He confessed. y/n looked at him with eyebrows that had a twist of disbelief in them. 

“Yeah, right.”

“I swear,” Tom laughed, putting his hands up. “So really, no judgement here.” Then he leaned in to whisper into her ear, “and I definitely won’t mind breaking you in,” He couldn’t keep a straight face saying it, and neither could she. He had thought it would make her nervous or flushed, but she just slapped him on his arms teasingly. 

“In your dreams, Holland.” 

“Fuck, I hope so.” That made her freeze, just for a second though. “Shit, too much?” He asked, afraid he had finally taken it too far with his inappropriate humour. 

“No, you’re good.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate, allowing Tom to do so as well. 

“See, just because I’ve never been kissed, it immediately puts me under this label of being a prude or something, but I’m really not. I’ve just- had a really shitty love life.” Or just a complete lack of it.

“Well, I hope to change that.” He leaned in again and pecked her cheek. That finally got him the flushed reaction he had hoped for. 

“You already did.” 

 _________________________________

Your hand moved up to your cheek, hovering above the area that he had kissed. You felt like an idiot, but with Tom, it didn’t even feel like a bad thing. 

“We’ve known each other for less than two days, and I can already tell you, you’re way up there in the list of good dates.” 

“Way up there? Give me stats.” He nudged on. You thought for a second. 

“At least… top ten.” 

“Top five? Oh C’mon, babe, I think I’m a bit better than that. Not to toot my own horn, of course.” 

“Top five.” You said, ignoring the butterflies that had escaped in your stomach. He glared at you. You glared back, keeping your eyes on each other for another moment until he had dipped his finger in his hot chocolate and pressed it against your nose. You blinked in confusion. 

“That just moved you down to number six.” 

“Well, shit.” Tom leaned in and licked the whipped cream off your nose. As disgusting as it should have been, you burst into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in his chest to not disturb the rest of the restaurant. While you were trying to calm down, you felt Tom kiss the top of your head a few times. 

Finally, you sat up again. 

“Top three,” you stated. It was good enough for Tom. For now. 

You drank the rest of your drinks in the best silence possible that could be kept as both of you kept laughing at each other. Finally, the mugs were empty. Tom paid for everything and let you take the lead to walk outside with the umbrella. When you opened the door, however, you saw that the storm had now passed over into a light drizzle. You kept the umbrella closed. 

You were already letting yourself get taken up by the rain when Tom was outside. You thought he would come to join you, but he stayed under the little roof, watching you with a big smile. 

“Not afraid of the rain, are you?” you asked. “Or are you made of sugar?” 

“All I can say is, come and find out for yourself.” You were already a few steps away, so you hopped over to him, took his hand and took the final step, so you were touching chest to chest. His other hand found its way on your hip. You saw his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. You smiled and pulled him in closer, making you take a step back and exposing him to the weather. 

“Mutherfucker!” He gasped, not having expected that. “Ohh, you’re good.” 

Before you knew what was happening, he had picked you up by the waist and spun you around. You squealed from surprise before the both of you started laughing again. Eventually, he had to put you back down again, and your eyes widened in horror when you saw him walk to a large puddle. 

“No, Tom! No, no, no.!” He put you down right next to it. Probably an inch from the water edge. 

“C’mon, I’m not that mean.” he pouted. 

“Nah, you’re a softy,” you poked his cheek. He grabbed your hand. 

“Oi, I wouldn’t go that far.” then kissed the tip of your index finger, which you had poked him with a second before.

“Too late, I guess.” 

“You sure about that? You’re still really close to that puddle babe. We wouldn’t want any… accidents!” He gripped you by the waist again, and the sudden movement made you feel like he was gonna throw you down into the puddle. You shrieked but soon felt his arms still around you and no parts of your body were soaked (only moderately wet from the light rain) or on the ground. He was still holding you. 

“You never answered me,” he said, his sweet laughter was gone, and his eyes were on your lips again. 

“Answer what?” you kept looking at his face as a whole, taking in every detail. The way his nose scrunched when droplets of rain well on it. How one of his eyebrows was more bushy and irregular than the other. The dimple in his chin, his freckles- everything. 

“If you wanted to kiss me.” 

His golden-brown eyes were so warm, even in the dim street lights at night. His wet hair was sticking to his face, but framing it so nicely. His jaw was sharp, it didn’t seem like it should be real. 

“I do.”

His lips. Though thin and a bit chapped, they still felt so soft. The sweet taste of chocolate, mixed in with the rain that had fallen in the few moments that you stood outside. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you in closer to him. It felt so good. So right. 

You pulled away but with no idea how much time had gone by. His stands stayed in their position, his eyes searched yours for a reaction. Nothing came from it since you were still in an emotional daze. 

Tom chuckled. 

“Fuck, I should have slid into your DMs sooner.” 

“Way to ruin the mood, Holland.”

“Oh, you love it.” He said before pulling you into another kiss. 

The END

> song played in Le Moulin: Rendez-vous sous la pluie (Jean Sablon)

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to see more of this au cause i really enjoyed writing it :)

> if anyone has a comment about how it had only been a day since they met etc. i wrote this 15k story in the span of 24 hours. i wish i could have added more to it but at this point, i am physically and emotionally exhausted and do not want to make it even longer. 

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96  @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown  @spiderrrling​ @captainpeggy40 @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @awesomehritz​ @madzleigh01​ @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey​ @quaksonhehe​ @mountainsforwords​ @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex​ @ethereal-beauty-p​ @slytherin-chaser​ @worldoftom​ @moonysoftt​ @peeterparkr​ @wazzupmrstark​ @saintlavrents​ @peachybloomss​ @blissfulparker​ @chloecreatesfictions-archive​  @fallinfortom​ @bitchydecisions​ @okokimfreakingoutahh @cicicantblog​ @musicalkeys​ @joyleenl​ @multifandomdoodles121 @awkwardfangirl2014​ @marvelouspeterparker​

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