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hintsofhoney · 2 years

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Freshman Year

Paring(s): RA!Dean Winchester x M!Student!Reader

Summary: Fucking your RA (and your roommates older brother) wasn't exactly what you had planned for your first semester of college.

Square(s) Filled: Rimming for @spnkinkbingo, Dick Pic for @anyfandomkinkbingo, College AU for @spnaubingo

Tags: 18+, anal sex, anal fingering, sexting, dirty talk, light dom/sub dynamics, rimming, sex in the dorms

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Wrote this for @superfanficnatural a few months ago, so I figured it was time to post it! GIF is mine. Hope you guys enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Excuse me, sorry – oh, on your right – left – sorry.” Pushing through the crowded hallway, carrying three cardboard boxes stacked up to your nose seemed like a task in of itself – to think that you actually had to unload all this shit after you got it into your room made you want to drop out of college before you even officially started.

You placed the last three boxes on the floor of your dorm room next to all of your other things: your computer, clothes, and about fifteen plastic tubs of “first year of college essentials” – some of which you knew you wouldn’t be able to live without, however most of it you thought was just crap that you’d either never touch or would lose by the end of the semester. But your mom had insisted on buying it for you anyway, and you weren’t going to argue about free stuff – crap or not.

You looked around your half of the room, mentally decorating the space while you waited on your roommate to arrive. You hadn’t met him yet – not in person anyway – but he seemed nice enough from the very short conversations you had through the app that your college provided to “get to know your roommate better before moving in with them”.

“Hey! Y/N?” you heard a voice behind you ask, and you turned around to see him standing in the doorway holding a plastic tub similar to the ones you had brought in earlier.

“Yeah! Sam, right?”

He nodded, giving you a small smile before setting the black bin down on his side of the room. He was tall – about 6’4” if you had to guess – which wasn’t that much taller than you were, but he seemed to tower over you nonetheless. He had chestnut hair on the longer side, curling behind his ears and just barely falling in front of his eyes – but enough to where he already had to flick his head about three times since walking into the room to keep his line of vision clear.

“You’ve got a lot of stuff, making me feel like I under-packed,” he commented with a nervous chuckle as he opened up the tub he had brought in.

You laughed awkwardly, glancing over all of your things again, realizing just how much of the floor was covered by them. “What can I say? I like to be prepared,” you shrugged. “Is that the only thing you brought with you or?” you asked, pointing to the tub he had finished unpacking.

“Oh, no. My brother is bringing a few more boxes up and I’m about to go get the rest of what’s in the trunk. I just wanted to make sure I found the right room first, and didn’t wanna do it with my arms too full in case I had to walk far,” he explained.

“Yeah, makes sense. You need any help?”

“Nah, I got it. I think one more trip is all I need. Thanks though. I’m gonna go grab them now, um – if a guy with short hair and green eyes walks in here, Zeppelin tee on – that’s my brother. Feel free to ignore him.”

You nodded, chuckling at his instructions, before he disappeared around the doorway. You sighed as you turned back around, your arms folded over your chest as you eyed the many boxes and suitcases you had in front of you. It was going to take forever to unpack it all, but you were eager to get everything set up just the way you wanted it – this was your first year of freedom, really, and you intended to take advantage of that as much as you could, starting with setting up your home base for the next five months.

You had moved to open a box labeled “desk stuff” when you heard a grunt behind you, followed by the soft thud of boxes hitting the floor. You turned around to see who it was, expecting Sam but getting something much better. He was a little bit shorter than his brother, but not by much, and his light brown hair poked up every which way as he wiped a bead of sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. Freckles dotted his face and the sleeves of his Zeppelin t-shirt were tight around his biceps as he placed his hands on his hips, breathing heavily in exhaustion.

“Yeah, the stairs will get you,” you chuckled, absentmindedly roaming your hand through the contents of the box you had opened, but not at all paying attention to what you were pulling out and putting on your desk – your eyes were glued to him.

He huffed a laugh. “That’s an understatement. Been here three years and I’ll never get used to them.” He walked over to you, holding out his hand. “Dean Winchester. I’m Sam’s brother, and I’ll also be your RA this semester.”

You shook his hand, your eyes widening at the information that was just presented to you. Your roommate was the RA’s little brother – this semester was either going to be hell or one hell of a party. He chuckled at your expression. “Don’t get too excited, I only let the guys I like get away with all the stuff they shouldn’t be doing,” he winked.

You scoffed, feigning offense. “Are you saying you don’t like me?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that your brother is our RA!” you exclaimed. It was almost 10 p.m. and you and Sam were on the tail end of your unpacking – at this point you were ready to call it a night and finish in the morning.

“I didn’t realize it mattered,” he mumbled in response, breaking down an empty cardboard box.

“Uh – what!? Sam, do you realize the shit we can get away with?” You watched as he rolled his eyes before going over to the university-provided dresser, opening it, and pulling out a pair of pajama pants. “Oh my God, you’re a goody-two-shoes, aren’t you? You’re not gonna do anything wrong while you’re here, huh? Not even with your brother not watching?”

“Look, you can do whatever you want. I won’t rat you out or anything, and no, Dean won’t care. He’d probably encourage it, actually. But I – I just can’t risk anything, y’know? Sure, call me whatever you want – goody-two-shoes, a prude, death of the party, buzzkill, lame – I’ve heard them all. From Dean, mostly. But I’m here to actually better my future, or whatever, so I can’t get involved in anything that might jeopardize that.”

You sighed, nodding in understanding as you climbed into bed, having already changed into your pajamas about an hour ago. “No, yeah, I get it. But you know… it doesn’t hurt to have a little fun here and there, dude.”

Sam chuckled as he copied your actions, crawling into his own bed. “You sound like Dean.”

You shrugged. “Not the worst person to sound like.”

He huffed a laugh. “Actually, one of the worst people you could sound like.”

“You two not get along or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he sighed, turning off his bedside lamp, “but, I think we’ve unpacked enough for today.”

The first two months of college went by quicker than you would have liked them to. Despite Sam being uber focused on school, you did manage to convince him to come out and do the fun things that all the RAs in your dorm had planned – like game nights or movie nights in the downstairs lobby. It was a great way to make friends and get to know who else was living in your building, but for you it was just another excuse to get to talk to Dean. During one of the movie nights, he had pulled you aside to tell you that he did in fact like you, which essentially gave you a free pass to do whatever you wanted – and the whole dorm knew it. Your room was the spot to store all the alcohol and pot that all the other kids were terrified of getting caught with – not that Sam knew that. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Just like how he had no idea about how close you and Dean had been getting since that night.

It started off as texts at first, since the RA had everyone on their floor’s number. Innocent texts – how are you doing? Do you need help studying? Are you guys hungry? – which slowly turned into not-so-innocent texts. What are you wearing? Is Sam there? Send me a picture. Look what you do to me, look at that mess you made. How you guys got from, how’s your first semester going? to, you have no idea how badly I want to fuck that tight little ass of yours – you had no clue. But you definitely weren’t complaining.

Since you had met him on move-in day, you had been completely taken by him – he filled up every empty space in your mind that wasn’t already taken up by your classes. You couldn’t stop thinking about him – you didn’t want to stop thinking about him. The only thing keeping you from acting on your dirty thoughts was the fear of Sam finding out – not that you two were that close, but you felt weird about it regardless. They don’t even get along, the devil on your shoulder egged on. It’s still his brother, have some decency, the angel argued back.

It was midnight when Dean’s name popped up at the top of your phone screen as you were scrolling through Instagram in bed one night.

DEAN: Are you up?

You began to type back, before seeing three more dots pop up at the bottom of your screen. You could feel your heart pounding in your ribcage as you waited. You took a deep breath as the image came through – a conscious effort not to moan as Sam was asleep in his bed. You stared at the picture on your phone – Dean’s cock long and hard, his hand wrapped around his shaft as he sat in his bed, the dimly lit room providing a perfect background; a dark contrast to the color of his skin, the pink of his swollen tip. You closed your eyes and took another breath as you formulated a response in your head, but another text came through before you could even begin to think of one.

DEAN: You coming?

DEAN: I know you’re up, I saw you typing.

DEAN: I promise I won’t make you scream too loud… wouldn’t want to get caught.

This asshole. Like you could say no.

Y/N: Yeah, I’ll be right there.

You quietly made your way out of your bed, tip-toeing over to where you kept your slippers before quickly sliding them on and slowly opening the door. Closing it softly behind you, you let out a sigh of relief, feeling accomplished in the task of not waking up your roommate. You walked down the hall slowly at first, afraid to wake any of the other students who lived in your building, but once you realized that you could barely hear your own footsteps down the carpeted floors you picked up the pace. You were standing at Dean’s door within seconds, swallowing down your nerves as you raised your fist to knock. However, the door swung open before you got the chance to, and Dean quickly pulled you into his room by your bicep before closing the wooden barrier and pushing you up against it. He was holding your wrists above your head as he stared down at you, his tongue darting out between his lips, his face illuminated by the lamp on his desk – the yellowish glow the only source of light in the room.

“You got here fast,” he said, his tone lined with amusement as he looked at you. “Someone’s eager.”

You scanned his face and bare chest, before your eyes darted down to the bulge that was tucked back away in his sweats, suppressing a moan as the picture he had sent you crept back up into your mind.

“Me? I’m not the one who sent the dick pic,” you replied with a smirk, suddenly realizing how hard your own cock was beneath the confines of your briefs.

He chuckled. “Touché.”

He licked his lips one last time before leaning in, and then they were molding with yours, his kisses hungry and needy and rough . You wanted to touch him so badly but he still had your hands pinned against the door, and you were suddenly very aware of the tingling sensation in your fingers as they started to fall asleep. Dean moved away from your mouth, trailing kisses down your jaw line to the pulse point on your neck, where he stopped to suck a bruise into your skin.

“Dean,” you breathed, trying to remind him that people would see it – that they’d ask questions – but he didn’t seem to care.

“I like marking what’s mine,” he husked in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He released your hands from his grip and you let them fall to his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck as his palms came to grip underneath your thighs. He picked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his bed, your lips never separating from his as he set you down on your back. Breaking the kiss, he hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of both your sweats and briefs, pulling them off of you in one swift motion.

“Right, I’m the eager one,” you teased, receiving a glare in return.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Dean replied with a smirk, kneeling down at the end of the bed and grabbing the underside of your thighs before pushing them upwards, spreading you wide open for him. “Don’t make a fuckin’ sound.”

He kept his eyes on yours as he lowered his head to your hole, the smug look never leaving his face. Licking a stripe over your entrance, your hands instantly came to tug on his short brown locks as you tried to suppress a groan. Circling his tongue around your puckered hole, you could feel him chuckling against you – he could feel your desperation. You watched him spit, taking a deep breath so as to not make any noise as the pad of his thumb replaced his tongue, his face in full view again as he rose up on his knees. He seemed to tower over you, his thumb circling your asshole as his other hand came to wrap around his cock. You held your legs open for him, holding back whimpers as he slowly pressed into you with his thumb, preparing you for what was to come.

As he slid his finger into you, you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan – it had been a while since you’d last had sex, and fuck , did it feel painfully good. Dean’s hand left his cock, quickly coming to cover your mouth as he slipped his thumb out of your ass and replaced it with his middle and pointer fingers. He was hovering above you now, his face inches away from yours.

“Thought I told you to keep quiet?” he whispered, his voice low and raspy. You nodded underneath his hand, your eyes pleading as he pushed his thick digits deeper inside you. “You gonna be good for me, then? You gonna be a good boy and shut the fuck up? ‘Cause if we get caught, we’re both dead.”

You nodded again, more eagerly this time – his dominance was only making you want him more. You needed him to fuck you. He smirked, huffing through his nostrils in amusement as he moved his hand away from your mouth and back to his cock, pumping it a few times before he slid his fingers out of you with ease. Your breath hitched in anticipation as he lined himself up with your entrance, spitting once, twice, for extra lubrication before pushing himself into you slowly. It took everything you had not to make any noise, the sensation of being filled to the brim one that you hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Dean breathed as he bottomed out inside you. He pulled back swiftly, pushing back into you much quicker and harder than before. You almost yelped, and judging by how swiftly his hand came to cover your mouth, he had noticed.

He shook his head as he continued pounding into you, warning you for a third time about just how dangerous it was to be making sounds like that. You closed your eyes, listening for anything else that could give the two of you away – the bed creaking, the headboard against the wall – anything loud enough, but there seemed to be nothing but Dean’s panting and the soft sound of skin slapping against skin as he continued to fuck you.

You stared up at him with doe eyes, attempting to telepathically ask him if you could touch yourself, and as if he could understand you, he nodded with a grin on his face. “Yeah, you wanna touch yourself?”

“Mhm.”

“Go ahead.”

You gripped your cock in your hand as he continued to pound into you, his hand never leaving your mouth, your orgasm building up rapidly. The two of you never broke eye contact as you pumped your shaft in time with his thrusts, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead as he chased his high. You were right on the edge, and as Dean dropped down a little bit, getting closer to you, his breath fanning over your ear, his palm still covering your lips, you couldn’t hold back any longer as he told you to cum.

Muffled noises came from underneath his hand as you rode out your delirium, and within seconds a string of “fucks” were falling from his lips while you felt him paint your insides white. He collapsed on top of you briefly, rolling off to the side moments later, and you could finally let the air back in your lungs as his hand left your mouth, taking a deep breath. The two of you laid in silence for a minute or so, trying to quietly catch your breaths between stolen glances at one another. Finally, his green eyes met your brown ones, a cocky smirk plastered on his face as he stared at you.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“How long d’you think we can get away with this for?”

You huffed in amusement, staring back up at the ceiling. “Your brother’s my roommate and you're an RA. A week if we’re lucky.”

He chuckled, turning his head to look up at the ceiling, too. “Well, better move the fun to my car, then.”

#spnkinkbingo #afgkinkbingo #spnaubingo #dean winchester x male!reader #dean winchester smut #spn fanfiction

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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The Brother's Keeper

A Dick Grayson and Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, References to Past Abuse

Author's Note: Another story edited and re-posted! Enjoy! -Thorne

Despite having not lived at the manor for almost a decade, she still knew every hallway and room like the back of her hand, every sound was a familiar net of reassurance she could count on. The hum of the hidden wall closing behind her, the creaking of the third step from the top that they always avoided, the clicking the bats above made. She descended the steps into the cave, balancing the heavy manila files in one hand, the other holding two protein shakes, knowing her father probably hadn’t consumed nutrition in at least a few hours since he called her.

Her eyes fell on him where he sat at the Batcomputer; he’d changed out of his suit and was in a pair of joggers and a long sleeve shirt. She walked over, setting the files down beside the keyboard. “Here’s the files you asked about, dad. I alphabetized them too…and color tabbed ‘em but that’s not important.”

He glanced at her with a warm smile before nodding and turning back to the screen. “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you doing so.”

She leaned an arm on the back of the chair, propping her chin on his shoulder as she stared at the screen. “New antidote for Scarecrow’s toxin?”

“He’s synthesized a new formula, so I need to make a new antidote in case anyone gets gassed,” he replied, tapping at the screen until the numbers were apparently in approval with whatever he was thinking about—who knew.

She hummed, taking note of the lack of noise. “Where’re the chuckle-heads?”

He chuckled and tipped his head towards the locker room. “They put their suits away and went to change.” She nodded again and patted his shoulder before walking off in the direction of the room.

When she got there, she didn’t see them, but she could hear them harking on one another in the locker room, and she moved in that direction. She stepped into the room and took in the image of the four of her brothers standing in front of the mirrors in their underwear, pointing at each other like they were shocked to see the other.

“Do I even want to know?” she asked, unblinkingly.

Their heads shot up and they saw her; Dick greeted, “(Y/N)! What are you doing here? You usually don’t come to the manor.”

(Y/N) shrugged and stepped inside, taking a seat on one of the cool metal benches. “Dad needed some files over a few previous encounters I’ve had with galactic enemies. And me being here brings me back to my original question.” She gestured to them with a wave of a hand, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you guys in your tighty-whities?”

They snorted, and Jason turned around. “We’re comparing scars.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’. “Of course, you are.” She paused for a second and observed them. “Who’s got the gnarliest one?” Immediately, they pointed at Damian who simply motioned to his chest, and she looked at the faded scar that rested over his heart.

A frown instantly drew her lips, and Damian, being ever so vigilant, caught it and shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault, sister. You tried to save me.”

She met his eyes and murmured, “I didn’t try hard enough.” She glanced at Jason, seeing the scars line his chest, her voice just as soft. “For either of you.”

Jason’s lips pulled downwards, and he walked over, sitting on the bench beside her. “The fact that you tried is good enough for us, Queenie.” He reached out, patting her head.

She sighed and shook it off, giving them a smile before she turned to Tim. “Any on you Nerd-bird?”

He grinned and turned around, running his hand along a scar that rested along the left side of his ribs. “When I fought Ra’s, he got me right here.”

(Y/N) looked at it, then leaned back, a curious look in her eye. “Other than dad, aren’t you the only person he’s called ‘detective’?” Tim gave her a firm nod and she pulled a grin, nodding at him. “Look at the Nerd-bird kicking all our asses in the game. I’m proud of you.” He gave her a sheepish smile and she turned to Dick. “We’ve all had brushes with death, but I don’t think you have a lot of noticeable ones. Which is surprising because out of all of us, you’re the most reckless.”

The others laughed while Dick glared at her, then he shrugged and showed his back, and they saw faint white lines that resembled lightning strikes. “When Wally came back out of the speed force, he accidentally shocked me. Of course, it wasn’t enough to damage me severely, but it’s here.”

They looked at him once more, then Tim tipped his head to the side. “What about you, sis? You’ve been doing this longer than we have. Do you have any good ones?” (Y/N) looked at him before pulling off her jacket and pulling off the tank top she had on. She stood up, walking to the mirror and staring into it.

She pointed to one that lined across her left breast. “Even covered by my bra, you can see how badly this one was.” She paused running a hand down it, gaze far. “When Jason died, I got into it with Joker some time after.” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted to Jason’s, who’s were wide with shock. “I beat him worse than dad did, but he left me with this one before I did.”

“I…didn’t know you did that, Queenie.”

“Of course not Jason. I didn’t tell you.” (Y/N) pointed to a patch that rested on her right hip. “Took a bullet for Tim a few years ago.”

“That was when Deadshot was running around, right?”

She nodded, answering his question. “Mhm. They say he never misses. But that day, he did.” Her hand moved and she touched a curved scar that ran down her neck. “After you died, Damian, I found Talia and we had it out.”

“What happened?” he questioned curiously.

(Y/N) met his eyes in the mirror and frowned. “She and I gave each other a fair share of wounds…but I think the ones I gave her hurt more than the ones she gave me.”

“And those were?”

(Y/N) looked back at her reflection and stared at herself. “The infuriated words of a grieving sister.”

Silence enveloped the room and after a few moments, Dick pointed to a particular scar on her back that ran down the length of it. “How in the world did you get that one?”

She looked over her shoulder and reached behind her, fingers brushing over the raised, jagged skin that had sealed unevenly. “On my back?”

Dick snorted and nodded. “The only one on your back sis.”

She went silent for a moment then she admitted, “…Tarantula gave it to me a few years ago.”

No one noticed the way Dick froze for a split second at her admittance, and Jason asked, “Why did you and Tarantula get into it?”

Her eyes met Dick’s for a flash before she looked at Jason. “She killed an informant of mine and I got even with her.”

“Looks like she rocked your shit, Queenie.”

The others laughed, save for her and Dick, then (Y/N) muttered darkly, “I beat Catalina Flores within an inch of her life that night.” Her statement brought their laughter to a grinding halt, and she continued. “Hell, I almost killed her. But I didn’t.”

Damian crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And why not? It would not be the first time you’ve killed someone.”

(Y/N) rolled her shoulders and moved back to her clothes, pulling on the tank top and jacket before turning to him. “Because then she would’ve gotten of scot free, and she wouldn’t have to live knowing what she’s done.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed and he followed Damian, crossing his arms and leaning against the lockers. “Not to be nosey, but the way you’re talking about her almost seems like you’ve got a vendetta against her. And I mean like, me to Bruce vendetta.”

(Y/N) met his gaze before reaching down and tossing his muscle tank to him, then passing the others their shirts. “The informant she killed was a good friend of mine. There was…a lot of fury.” She paused, meeting Dick’s gaze once more. “There still is.”

The others simply stared at her before pulling on their shirts, and she looked at them. “I’m gonna get dad to go out and eat somewhere with me. You guys go on out and start working on him, would you?” The three nodded and started towards the door, (Y/N) following.

She was almost out of the door when Dick’s voice reached her quietly. “…(Y/N)?” She paused, turning around, and looking at Dick, who wore an unreadable expression; he glanced up at her, his eyes searching as he inquired, “Was there another reason that you two fought?”

“Me and Catalina?” He nodded and she shrugged. “There might’ve been. But the immediate fight was about my informant.”

Dick stared at her for a few moments before whispering, “…You didn’t start your informant network until I donned Batman.”

(Y/N) tipped her head back and leaned against the door frame, eyes narrowed as she mentally picked his words apart as only an older sister could. “What are you getting at, kid brother?”

He fell silent all at once, but when he finally found it in himself to bring his eyes to hers, she saw such pain in them. “Did you fight her…because of me?”

“No,” she immediately replied, firmly and confidently.

Dick’s eyes widened momentarily, but he looked down and nodded. “I see.”

She kept staring at him, then cleared her throat and turned, grabbing the doorknob. She pulled the door open and stopped, murmuring, “Dick.” He glanced up at her, but she faced forward and said, “I don’t know what happened to you in Blüdhaven all those years ago, and frankly, it’s none of my business.”

Dick’s heart sunk at her words, but then she looked over her shoulder, a solemn tone matching her stance and gaze as she affirmed, “But I am your sister…and I run the best damn informant network this side of the galaxy.” She paused, her words taking on an underlying tone. “There isn’t anything that happens in Gotham and our sister city that I don’t know about.”

Something passed between their eyes and she declared, “I am the family keeper. And I will always be the safety net that catches everyone when they’re in their darkest hours. When there’s something you can’t handle, I will for you.”

Her words made his eyes shine with unshed tears and she gave him a faint smile and a wink before she stepped out of the locker room, leaving him sitting alone, his thoughts drifting back to the rooftop in Blüdhaven.

***

She walked across the floor of the cave to see her father standing there, Jason and Tim hanging off his arms and Damian around his neck; he wore the expression of a tired dad and she couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Having fun, dad?”

He shifted slowly as to not knock one of her brothers off and glared at her. “This is your fault.”

“Guilty as charged father dearest! But it’s food time! Let’s get street tacos.”

Jason grunted at her and shook his head. “No, let’s get gyros!”

“Gyros are disgusting, Jason.”

His features contorted in something only described as an insulted disbelief and he declared, “Just because you don’t like limes and lemons, does not mean gyros are gross, (Y/N).”

“We’re not getting gyros, Jason,” she shot back.

“What about Chinese food?”

(Y/N) looked at Damian and nodded. “I’m down for tacos or Chinese.”

“Can we stop and get some shawarma?”

“Tim, which part of tacos or Chinese sounded like shawarma to you? It’s one or the other. Take your pick.”

“But last night was pizza night! And if I eat Chinese or tacos, I’m going to eat more carbs than I need!”

“You do need more carbs, twig-boy.”

“That was mean, sis.”

“Truthful. I mean how have you not been snapped in half yet? You look like a toothpick.”

The others laughed at her comments, and Bruce looked at her. “Where’s Dick?”

(Y/N) tipped her head back to the lockers. “Still changing.” She motioned to the stairs. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait on Dickie.” They nodded, and she watched her father trudge past with her three brothers hanging off him.

A smile crossed her lips and a few minutes later, she heard footsteps behind her. “Where’d everybody go?”

She turned around and nodded to the stairs. “Told them to go ahead and get ready.” (Y/N) had barely made it up the first ten steps when she felt Dick stop beside her, and she glanced back at him. “Dick? You good?”

He gazed up at her. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

She gave him a knowing look and said, “I didn’t do anything, Dick.”

“You did.”

“Agree to disagree.” They stared at each other for a second then she tipped her head to the stairs. “Let’s go get some food, kid brother.”

He nodded and started climbing the steps beside her. “I don’t tell you enough, sis…but I love you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and mumbled, “God, you are so sentimental.”

“It’s one of my perks.”

“More like a curse…but yeah…it is.” She paused and he stopped beside her, and she reached over, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love you too, little brother.” His arms wound around her, and they shared a moment before she patted his back. “Alright. Let go. I’m done being overly affectionate.”

He laughed, letting her go and she walked up ahead of him. He kept his eyes trained to her back, and he remembered something she once told him.

The two of them walked silently down the twisting and turning garden path, following the little white concrete plates that made the trail. Dick looked up from his hands, calling out to the older girl in front of him. “(Y/N)?”

She hummed in response but didn’t look at him. “What is it, Dickie?”

“Why won’t you let me walk beside you?”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder. “Because I’m protecting you.”

His head tipped to the side and he stopped walking. “But were at the manor?”

“And something could always happen. I’m in the front, so that if something comes, I can protect you while you run.” She turned around and looked at him. “One day you’ll be old enough to walk beside me instead of behind me.”

Dick’s eyes widened and he jumped excitedly. “When! When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind!”

(Y/N) giggled at her little brother and reached out, holding his shoulders to stop him from jumping up and down. “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore…you can walk beside me.”

“When will that be?”

(Y/N) pulled her hands away and spun back around, continuing her walk. “When it happens…you’ll know.” It was all the answer she gave the young boy, but he continued following her, still behind.

Dick blinked, the memory flashing away as fast as it had come, and he saw her back once more; he called out to her. “When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind?”

(Y/N) halted, mid-step and she glanced over her shoulder, a faint smile playing her lips as she replied, “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore, you can walk beside me.”

“And when will that be?”

She huffed a laugh chuckled at him before she turned back around, though she paused just as she was about to cross the threshold and peered back at him. “Don’t you already know the answer to that?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to that one, sis.”

(Y/N) shrugged and turned back around, declaring, “Then I guess you still need me to protect you.”

Dick watched her disappear into the manor, listening as she got into the argument that her brothers were bickering about with each other, and he smiled faintly. “Yeah…I guess I still do.”

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stressedoutcanary · 3 years

Text

Do You Ever Feel Like A Misfit (Everything Inside You Is Dark & Twisted)

Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count: 3.5K (I don't know how tf that happened)

Warnings: Explicit language, Blood and Violence, lots of angst, Hurt/Comfort ✌

A/N: Guess who's back! Just for some context the reader is a magic user and her style is similar to that of Zatanna <3

•°•°•°•°

She’d have reasoned with herself that stealing from one of the most secure and heavily guarded safe-houses of a deranged sociopath was probably not the brightest idea she’s had all day. It never even made it on her to-do-list for the weekend, but here she was, running across rooftops, holding on to the stolen totem like her life depended on it, it probably did. The three assassins sent after her were no Lady Shiva or Talia Al Ghul but they weren’t exactly amateurs either. The deep cuts and two broken ribs she got from their earlier encounter were proof of that.

She glanced back and even though there was no sign of her would-be-killers she knew better than to assume they’d just let her be. They were sticking to the shadows, exploiting her blind spots. The only thing she was sure of was that they were still hot on her trail and would happily plunge a dagger into her back given the opportunity.

She was right. As of this moment she hated being right.

She caught the glint of the two sharp objects slicing through the air, hurtling towards her at full speed. A slight shift of her upper body was all she could manage as one of the daggers got embedded right into her scapula while the other one, fortunately so, whirled past her, slightly grazing her left hip. The impact of the blade on her shoulder made her lose what little balance she had left. Despite her best efforts, when the wounded shoulder made contact with the hard concrete, a loud, ear-piercing cry ripped out from her throat before she could push it back down.

Cursing under her breath she knew, she knew all she had were those few seconds of numbness and disorientation to get a grip and figure out her exit strategy. However, all her hopes started to sink as she saw one of the assassins come closer, appearing more of a blur than a person. Then again that was probably because of the nice, little concussion she got from her fall. The assassin walked over to her, unsheathed their sword and placed it right on her neck, blocking any and every way out.

“You were warned. The Demon’s Head does not tolerate treachery. We are here under his orders to bring back the totem along with the witch’s head; your head”

If she could, she would’ve rolled her eyes at the classic villainous dialogues thrown at her.

“Witch? Who’re you calling a witch Snow White? I’m clearly a sorceress, don’t they teach you the difference between the two in assassin school or something? Hell, I’d even let you call me an enchantress, though that name’s already been taken but you get my poin-”

The remaining words died in her throat as the sword on her neck shifted slightly. She knew she had extremely poor self preservation skills considering she’s clearly been instigating the very person sent to kill her, but even she wasn’t dumb enough to keep talking when the tiniest movement on either part could result in her having a severed jugular or carotid.

‘This is a pretty shitty way to die’

She thought back to how she used the last of her mystic energy to hide the totem away before her fall and how stupid that decision really was because now she could actually feel the agonizing pain coming from her shoulder. It started to spread throughout her back like wildfire, eyelids grew heavy against her wishes. Suddenly she felt really tired and the idea to close her eyes just felt so goddamn appealing.

‘No (Y/N) that’s the blood loss talking. Blood loss doesn’t get to make decisions’, she mentally scolded herself, still not breaking her eye contact with the person standing above her.

“Give us what you stole and we shall grant you the mercy of a quick death.”

That made her raise an eyebrow, “Ah, lemme think...the correct response here would be…”, she hummed, making a show of how hard she was thinking about the offer she was granted, “How about a fuck you? How would that do for you?”, she gave them a vicious grin, it was all teeth. They probably weren’t impressed by her response and it showed.

She knew there was no way out but she had promised herself once that if she were to die, that if she ever goes out, she’d be anything but a whimpering and sobbing mess. She was scared shitless, more so than she’d ever been while fending off the league, she won’t deny that but she would rather die than let them know that. ‘Well at least I got that ‘rather die’ part down to a T.’ she thought, eyeing the sharpness of the blade which was now raised up in the air

She felt bad for just giving up the way she did. Her whole life she was told to fight her way through the impossible, to attain the strength rivaling that of Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine and Doctor Fate himself. To be better than them, and there she was lying on the ground limp as a sword came down on her throat; all for a silly necklace. She would’ve huffed out a laugh if only her ribs weren’t broken, if only her body wasn’t screaming in pain, if only she had a way out. She didn’t. She was too tired, too drained, too numb to do anything else. Closing her eyes she stopped fighting, she let her growing unconsciousness claim her.

‘This is what you deserve anyway’, her barely there conscience remarked.

‘Fuck you too.’ she replied.

Everything went pitch black. The darkness encompassing her was peaceful, unlike the pain she had felt before. It was nice for a change. It sounded pathetic but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

•°•°

When she came to, the first thing she observed was the feeling of something soft against her back, next was a dull rhythmic sound which she realized was her own heartbeat. Though opening her eyes was a tiring task. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. She used all the energy she had into it and her eyelids fluttered open. She stared at the white ceiling and stayed like that for a few seconds; a few minutes? She couldn’t tell, but the pain was back now, not too much but enough to tell her it was there, to tell she was still alive.

She saw something shift in her peripheral vision and her body instinctively went stiff. Her mind which was blank before now ran in all directions.

‘Could be Ra’s Al Ghul… Could be worse’, she tried not to think about the worst case scenario, but she knew she had pissed off a lot of beings, beings far more powerful and far crueler than Ra’s himself. An involuntary shudder passed through her at the thought. That must’ve caught her captor’s attention as she felt the person move closer to her. Begrudgingly, she tore her gaze from the spot on the ceiling which she had been staring at this whole time and tilted her head. The man in black and blue who appeared, was probably the last person she had expected to see.

“Nightwing…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper and the hoarseness with which it came out it took her by surprise, but her body visibly relaxed at the sight of the familiar figure, at the sight of someone who would never hurt her.

She watched him pull out a chair from the desk nearby. He sat next to the bed she was lying on and gave her a soft smile, a smile that spelled one word ‘relieve’. She remembered how when she first met him two years ago, she found that particular smile extremely annoying, she had no reason to, but she did. What she couldn’t remember was when she had grown so fond of it.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

He snorted a laugh which made her pout. She was planning to point out how he was being mean; laughing at her when her response truly defined the way she was feeling, but any words she thought of were cut off by the change in his expression. His smile faltered, lips were now pressed in a thin line, face contorted in a way which showed his genuine concern.

“This is the second time, this week.”

That you almost died, he didn’t say. That I had to save you and bring you back from the clutches of death, he didn’t say.

“I know.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“I know.”

The silence that settled, stretched far too long for comfort, but she wasn’t going to be the one to break it. She wanted to, but there was nothing she could say, that would make it better. Nightwing ran his fingers through the locks of hair, burying his face in his hands.

For the first time since she woke up, she took in his appearance, he looked disheveled, his suit was torn in different places along visible faint cuts, most likely he got them when he rescued her. She felt a pang of guilt rising in her chest. He risked his life for her, she knew he had done it before, she didn’t get it then and she didn’t get it now. Why would someone do that? Why would he? She was pulled back from her spiraling thoughts when he spoke again, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“Why are you so reckless?”

“Excuse me?”

She looked at him like he had grown another head. She wasn’t ready for this conversation but by the looks of it they were gonna have it anyway.

“What if I hadn’t been there today? Or any of the other days you almost died. What then?”

“My best guess? I would’ve been dead.”

“And that fact doesn’t bother you at all?!”

She flinched at little when his voice rose, but she stood her ground, at least figuratively since she was still in bed.

“I don’t know, should it?” She didn’t try and tone down the venom dripping from her words. Her words cut deeper than the wounds he got from the assassins; she saw it clear as day on his face. She let out a deep sigh but continued. She had to get it out and he had to hear it, that’s the reason she gave herself for the confession that followed.

“I don’t need your help, Dick. I don’t know what gave you the impression that I did but I’ve never needed it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Why was it getting harder to speak?’ “I don’t need you to save me every time. I don’t need you to risk your life for me and I definitely don’t…” She moved to sit up straight, her back resting on the headboard. She shifted her gaze on her open palms resting in her lap; palms covered in blood, in her blood, not very long ago.

“I don’t need you to care...”

The last part was a whisper and Dick was silent, so silent that for a brief moment she wondered if the man she’d come to care about even heard her, admitting something that was so painful for her to say out loud.

Dick moved to sit beside her, his shoulder bumping hers. He didn’t know where all this was coming from but he knew better to leave it unattended.

“(Y/N) I help you because I care about you. I always will, you know that.”

“Why? You have nothing to gain from it”, blinking back the unshed tears in her eyes, she looked at him with a hurt expression as if she couldn’t bring herself to understand.

“Why… as in why do I care?”, Dick tilted his head to look her in the eyes, trying to understand what she meant all the while making sure not to let his own surprise at her words show. She nodded not trusting her voice to not betray her anymore than it already had.

“I don’t care about you because I feel like you need it nor because I would gain something from it”, Dick knew he shouldn’t have to explain it to her. He briefly wondered what she had gone through to make her think that she needed to be useful to be cared for or that she had to need it to be cared for. He felt something pull at his heart at the thought; It was sorrow.

“I care about you because… well I do and there’s nothing you could or couldn’t do to change that. And it is because I care about you that I ask you to be better at taking care of yourself. Now I know for a fact that whatever you stole from The League’s safehouse definitely did not belong there, but I also know that whatever it was, it wasn’t worth your life (Y/N) It never will be.”

Dick grasped one of her hands, interlacing his gloved fingers with hers; she hadn’t even realized she was shaking until he did so. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take a deep breath despite her protesting ribs. Opening the palm of her free hand she muttered an incantation with practiced ease

“Eveirter tahw saw neddih “, her hand glowed, the golden aura taking the shape of a object. When the light subsided, Dick saw the object in her palm as she rubbed her thumb across it, quietly leaning her head on his shoulder.

“It was this totem. It belongs to Madame Xanadu. Don’t know what Ra’s wanted it for though”, she shrugged as best as she could with an injured shoulder then continued, voice firmer than it had been the whole evening,“ She asked me to retrieve it in exchange for information on a girl I was looking for. The girl was somehow sucked into some other dimension, a mystic one and her mother was so desperate when she approached me that I just couldn’t say no. So when I say the Totem was important, then I want you to know that it really is.”

Dick shook his head at that. “Still not worth your life.”

“Dick…”, she sighed. It was all she could do at the moment because she was really getting tired from all the arguing.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“You mean the time I met the infamous vigilante Nightwing in a dumpster of all places.”

“In my defense I was badly injured”, she hummed in agreement.

“You smelled bad”

“You try smelling like flowers after falling from a building and into an open dumpster.”

His playful grumbling pulled a short laugh out of her. She was more than a little confused at the sudden trip into the past but happily accepted it as a change of topic. She should’ve know better than to think he’d have let the matter go.

“Anyway my point is when you saw me that day, you first instinct was to help me. You pulled me out and used your magic to heal my wounds. You didn’t have to. You could’ve dropped me at a hospital. You could’ve even walked away and pretended that you never saw me, but you didn’t. Why is that?”

“Because I thought you were handsome?”, she said trying to lighten this too-heavy-for-comfort conversation he was trying to have.

“Nice try. I know you. You saved me because you cared. You helped me and the Titans save the city more than once because you cared. It is who you are. I’ve seen you care about and worry over complete strangers without conditions. So why do you think that there has to be some kind of a barter system when it comes to you? Why think that I would want to gain something if I cared about you?”

“Because everyone else did.”

The words shot out from her mouth quicker than she realized. She had voiced her greatest insecurity to the one person who never had anything to add to it and Dick’s heart clenched at the implications of her words, ‘She has never been loved unconditionally before’ his brain provided.

The tears she blinked back earlier came back with full force. She felt two strong arms that wrapped around her, all the while being mindful of her injuries. Dick pulled her into a hug and that was it. She couldn’t control the sobs that tore through her throat, the pain in her body flared due her erratic movements. She knew once the tears started flowing they wouldn’t stop at least not for a while, but now that her façade had been broken she couldn’t bring herself to give it another thought.

He waited for her to let it out, let out all the pent up emotions she had. Now that he thought about it he had never seen her cry. He never questioned it, maybe he should’ve.

“I don’t know who’s responsible for hurting you (Y/N), God, how much I wish I did”, his arms slightly tighten around her at that. “I am so sorry that you have felt like you have to have your walls up all the time, even around me and I should’ve seen that, I should’ve realized that before but I didn’t and I am so sorry for that. I can’t undo the damage you’ve endured and I will not pretend that I can. What I can do is promise you that I’d never let you down like that, never.”

The words he spoke were clear. He didn’t try to tell her to put her walls down, to trust him when she had no reason to. He also didn’t need to justify himself or make such over the top promises but it felt nice to hear it. She had already stopped crying the moment he started speaking again but she still had her forehead pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, it was calming in a way she couldn’t describe. She pulled her head back to look at him, and the honesty in his voice earlier matched the one in his eyes.

“Okay”

Hearing her response, he gave her his signature grin. It sent unexpected warmth through her, he always had that effect on her. She was sure she was just blushing at this point and was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting in the room.

She ended up composing herself rather quickly, jabbing a finger at his armored chest with her usual smirk plastered on her face.

“Now that you’ve made that promise, know this, Dick Grayson, if you let me down I will drop a mountain on you.”

“You mean that figuratively?”

“No I mean that geologically”, he waited for her to say she was kidding. She didn’t.

“Alright, alright”, He held his hands out in mock surrender. After considering the look in her eyes, Dick refrained from questioning the feasibility of that action nor did he want to question her magical abilities or intent. Last he remembered, Wally did that and that conversation ended with him being teleported to Sahara and Dick would very much like to avoid the same fate as his best friend.

Deciding that was more than enough exhaustion for one night, he got up from the bed and kissed her goodnight, informing her that he’d be sleeping on the couch so that he wouldn’t accidently hit her injuries in his sleep. She agreed and watched him slip out of the room before falling into the blissful sleep she had been putting off since forever.

•°•°

She knew Dick Grayson was full of surprises but the next morning when he put forward the offer of become a full time Titan, in front of her, she wondered if she fell from the bed in her sleep and ended up getting another concussion because he was so not making any sense.

“So let me get this straight, you want me to come live with you and your superhero friends, in the Titans freaking Tower?!”

“I was hoping for a little less yelling after an emotional evening but yes that is exactly what I’m asking.”

“Dick that’s just ridiculous!”

“Look, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He looked like a kicked puppy which made her feel kinda guilty for all the yelling.

“It’s not that…It’s just there is still a lot about me I haven’t told them. There is still a lot I haven’t told you. I don’t see a reason why you all would want to trust a possible threat, let alone live with it”, she gestured to herself.

Dick felt like there was a deeper meaning behind her words, as if she was voicing her own fear rather than theirs but he trusted her enough to tell him about it when she was ready, on her own terms. He could wait till then but for now he crossed the short distance between them, going around the breakfast table till he stood in front of her. He grasped both of her hands in his and ran his thumb soothingly across her knuckles. He bent down to place a soft kiss on her forehead, and then moved to meet her gaze.

“(Y/N), I know you and I trust you and…It sounds silly considering I was raised by the worlds greatest detective but I believe that you don’t have to know every little detail about someone as long as you already know what’s in their heart.” Bruce probably would’ve disagreed but he wasn’t Bruce.

“And you know what’s in mine?”

“And I know what’s in yours.” His statement was firm and left no room for argument, not when it came to this.

“If you’re sure about this, then I guess...”

“Is that a yes I’m hearing?”, There was that smile again, seriously what was up with him and his smile that made her giddy inside.

In between thoughts she realized he was still waiting for a response so she nodded. Any underlying doubts she had about her answer vanished when she took in how happy it made him. As cheesy as it sounded seeing him happy made her happy. A part of her said it wouldn’t last long, but seeing her boyfriend hop onto the couch full of joy as he called his friends about the latest development in their lives, she wanted to believe otherwise.

°•°•°•°•

235 notes · View notes

iphoenixrising · 3 years

Text

The Demon You Know

Day 1 Urban Fantasy AU | Magical/Supernatural Creatures | Time Travel

So, something a little off the grid for my first day of DickTim Week 2021. Special thanks to my wonderful babe @vellaphoria for the beta and the incredible peeps on the Capes and Coffee discord (looking at you @themandylion, @strawberryjei and others). Also need to show my undying love for @chippon because babe, we are making it work.

When the sun creeps up over the sky in Gotham, then it’s time to GTFO. Capes in the daytime aren’t the usual for the city, and Red Robin has been playing it too late, staying out far past O’s warning to bring it in for the night. So, really, he’s only got himself to blame.

His penthouse perch has seen more use in the last few months since, welp, Gotham and the fact he likes to get away from the team mentality sometimes, like to return to his roots and run the rooftops like when he was still that Robin. His trips to the Manor had become more frequent since B was back in the cowl and things in the family seemed to be returning to some semblance of normal.

Well, as normal as it could get, really.

But all that goodwill and positivity is literally ghost. Red’s hands are shaky and his inner calm is absolutely blown. He’s ducking into his perch to throw his suit off, grab his duffle bag full of sundries and fake idents, then he’s going to hit the airport as fast as he can get a flight the hell out of town, away from the terrifying sight.

(He should just call Bart or Kon or Cassie, tell them he needs an out faster than he can arrange it himself, he needs to get away from–)

He knows he fucked up when the slight sounds, small and metallic in nature, make it past his pulse thumping in his ears.

Like a horror flick, he slowly turns as the front door gives a groan and is pushed open by a very familiar palm.

Dick’s blue eyes fall on him like a ton of bricks, on Red Robin’s feet frozen to the floor, his suit only half on, and no way he can get far enough to throw himself out a window.

Fuck.

“So,” Dick keeps his voice soft, footsteps easy as he steps inside Tim’s penthouse and closes the door behind him, “you finally found me out.”

Keeping his mouth shut in times like this has really saved his ass before, so Red doesn’t say a word, keeps every muscle in his body ready to spring for the right second –

Watching the would-be robber struggle in Dick’s grip, watching the light show brighten overwhelmingly, seeing what had to be-had to be feeding.

“I figured it would be you if anyone, actually, so I’m not really surprised, just… disappointed.” Dick continues softly, only in jeans and a t-shirt since Nightwing was oddly missing from the patrol roster last night.

And Red is apparently the only one that knows why.

“But that doesn’t mean I can just let you go, Timmy,” Dick isn’t stopping, his whole body lax while Red is wound tight, backing away from the man he thought he knew. “I really wish you hadn’t found out like this. I...I had other plans.”

Whirlybirds and pellets aren’t going to help him here. Hand-to-hand and martial arts, aerial acrobatics, none of it is going to make a difference.

His throat goes dry when Dick’s eyes get more and more blue, when his former mentor doesn’t stop advancing, and Red Robin is running out of room to back away.

“I tried to save you, Timmy. I tried so hard to get you away, out of Gotham, even if you went because you thought you had to find Bruce, I’m the one that gave you the compulsion to leave.” The low laugh is edged with something desperate, “why the hell couldn’t you stay away?”

“This is my city, just as much as Batman’s. You taking my fucking cape wasn’t enough,” Red Robin bites out, back thumping against the kitchen counter, realizing Dick had backed him into the corner. “How did you keep it from him? Constantine, Zatanna, all the magic users he has on speed dial and he never figured you out? No one in the JLA or Titans did?”

That makes Dick pause.

“He never had to. He knew what my parents were before they ever died, Timmy. Haley’s Circus came to Gotham regularly. Bruce always knew.”

The information blast hits him painfully, that Bruce didn’t bother to tell him and look at where they are now.

“And he didn’t try to help you?” Red, Tim, gapes at the still silhouette that used to be someone he thought he knew like he knew himself. Someone that’s always had this secret. “He didn’t try to –”

“Cure me?” Dick’s mouth lifts in a semblance of a smile Tim knows. “There is no cure for this, Timmy. It’s what I am. What my parents both were, the curse of the Romain Bababiljos. It’s unfortunate for me both of them were cursed, that just makes the...the hunger two-fold.”

And it’s just a few more steps, a raised hand that makes Tim flinch back, but only a fingertip taps the edge of the domino, makes the whiteouts raise.

Automatically, with everything he’s learned, studied, experienced about supernatural creatures, he ducks his head so he isn’t looking directly into those eyes. That doesn’t stop Dick from bracketing Tim in, both hands on the counter, their bodies a breath apart.

Dick laughs softly, close enough for Tim to feel the breath on his face. “The Titans...I never had to tell them. By then, I could control myself, at least mostly. The JLA? I’m one of the Batman’s proteges. I’ve been fighting crime since I was eight. They believe in me. There was never a reason for any of them to look too deeply past the surface.”

“Wh-what do you mean mostly?” Tim’s heart slams in his chest, “how many people have you killed, Dick?”

“Do you have any idea how awful the hunger is?” And the lower Dick’s voice goes, the harder Tim’s heart starts to pound. “Surviving on hugs and family affection is tantamount to starvation for someone like me. It’s so easy to kill someone during sex because the hunger is so much I can’t control it sometimes. Anyone I’m with is in danger. That’s why I couldn’t stay with Babs, she’s too human. The one time I came close–”

Dick breathes again and all Tim looks at is the span of throat, thinking of the soft, vulnerable parts, anything he can use to get the fuck away.

“–but I didn’t. I have...willpower sometimes. I drained her so close, though. She was-was so fragile, Timmy, and I was so hungry. I’d been starving for so damn long. She was hospitalized for longer than she’d been when the Joker shot her, and I said never again. But Wally and Kory were...different. I could go further with him without killing them, I could get more full than I’d been in a long time. It was still dangerous for them, but I was so far gone by the time...”

“They’re both still alive. Babs is still alive. Does she–?”

“Remember? Of course not. None of them do. I made sure of that, Tim, so none of them would be afraid of me.” And the air changes when Dick gets closer, his eyes get brighter, and Tim almost chokes with the almost touch to his body under his suit. “But, you are going to be different, aren’t you? I’m not going to be able to convince your mind that what you saw was a dream.”

“So what? You’re going to make me “disappear”? You’ll give Bruce some sob story about how I got tired of the vigilante life and left for college or some shit? Going to bury me where no one will ever find me?” He isn’t looking at Dick’s face, can’t see his own end coming, can’t believe he’d put all his faith and belief in this man only to have it all come to this.

Tim laughs wetly, blinking rapidly, and everything suddenly comes together. “He won’t ever come looking for me anyway. You made sure of that when you made Damian your Robin. Nice plan, Dick. No one is going to give a shit if I’m never seen again anyway.”

And it’s stupid not to at least try, not to duck and kick out, trip up whatever Dick really is, to break a window and fucking run, try to get Bruce, Clark, Kon and Bart and Cassie, to get anyone to listen to him about what Dick really is, to try to save himself.

(If you’d never figured out Dick was Robin, if you never put yourself in front of him, you’d be safe now. Miserable but safe.)

Even if it’s his own brain pan spitting this out, he knows it’s bullshit.

If he’d never approached Dick Grayson with proof Batman was losing his mind, Tim Drake wouldn’t have reached twenty-one. The way his life was going, he would have probably hung himself long before getting to this stage in his life. If he’d never had Bruce or Alfred or Dick or Steph, if he’d never had Robin, never had Young Justice or The Titans, if he’d never had the Clench, never felt the rumble under his feet as Gotham had fallen, if he’d never had the agony of losing everyone in his life, if he’d never had the drive to prove his adopted father was alive…

The civilian Tim Drake wouldn’t have had the strength to make it through life alive.

So if this is the way he goes out, if Dick is the one that ends it for him–

There’re worse ways to go.

He’s not going to be the Joker’s next victim or Ra’s al Ghul’s heir with a mix of Lazarus Pit crazy. The HIVE, the Light, the mass of aliens he’s fought, any number of Rogue Gallery thugs, none of them will be the ones to take him out.

But this?

His career as Robin started out with Dick Grayson, so maybe...maybe it’s fitting this is the way it all ends.

He sucks in a breath and finally tilts his head up, looks up into those electric blue eyes, and lets his breath out so so slow.

Because Dick is looking at him with watery eyes, with a grimace, with something Tim can actually recognize.

But those eyes light up in his penthouse perch, take on a supernatural glow, Dick snatching his wrists in bigger hands, pulling Tim closer, the heat getting through layers of Kevlar and Nomex. And just like that, he can’t pull away, can’t pull back.

There’s no way to defend himself when Dick pulls him in, when he expects to get his throat ripped out, his neck snapped, something important crushed, for the darkness to take over and his heart to slow down to a sad, weak pitter patter.

He can’t defend himself when Dick kisses him, opens his mouth, and stuns him into going completely slack.

“I told you,” Dick growls softly when he pulls back, bends enough to get Tim laid out over his shoulder, “I had other plans.”

But Tim can’t reply, can’t do anything other than lay across Dick’s back as the Romani love deamon strides down the hallway and kicks open the bedroom door.

And if Tim Drake survives until morning, shocking the hell out of the both of them, staring up at Dick’s surprised face and glowing blue eyes, if the soft touch to his jaw contrasts sharply with the bruises and red marks blossoming all over his body from an intense night with his supernatural mentor and best friend, if Dick doesn’t whisper, “finally, finally, my mate,” before kissing him.

If the power Dick drains from him doesn’t kill him, doesn’t do more than give him the most amazing span of unending multiple orgasms to ever happen, if Dick isn’t fully satisfied for the first time in his life. If Dick doesn’t call them both off patrol for the next three nights, carts Tim back to his apartment, refuses him clothes and computers and tech, tells the Titans they’re taking a break from crime fighting while Tim is tied and gagged in his bed, sated enough to listen hazily with half-mast eyes.

If Dick doesn’t hand feed him while he’s getting feeling back in his legs (finally) and give him the full run-down about his parents. If the strange mark on his abdomen doesn’t get warm whenever Dick’s hand is on it, fingers tracing the edges, making those blue, blue eyes dilate in possessiveness. If Tim doesn’t eventually escape with his sanity intact and a little terrified how much his body craves only to have Dick chase after him with single-minded purposes to convince him they’re meant to be.

Then only the man with cameras all over Gotham, waiting and watching with bated breath and fear for his Robins, unmitigated relief when his theory proves true, would be able to give all the details.

#dicktimweek2021 #winter writes #dicktim #back on my shit #dick grayson #tim drake #my ficlet #my writing

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

That Time Tim Totally Terminated Ra's Al Ghuls Entire Empire Part 1

So. I wrote something very silly. The title says it all, except it doesn't because this bad boy spiraled out to being over 10k and deserving of 2 chapters. Anyway, here is the first chapter featuring all the times Ra's kidnapped Tim because he wanted to recruit him.

Summary:

"Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.” Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

AO3 Link

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. No really. One moment he’d been in Gotham, crouched behind an old BMW that had been in the same spot for a month, waiting on Batman’s signal, the next he’d woken up in some lavishly decorated room. Was that silk? Or maybe velvet? He had no idea what was hanging around the bed he was laying in, but Tim really didn’t care.

What he was concerned about was his own personal state. He raised his arms --that alone was a good sign-- and confirmed that his mask was in place. He pushed himself up on the ridiculously plush bed, -which was unreasonably plush by the standards of a kid who'd grown up rich, and then gone to live with a guy who had both more money and even better beds.

The point was, the bed was so soft Tim actually had a bit of trouble sitting up.

When he did manage to right himself, he finished taking stock of his own situation and his surroundings. His Robin uniform was intact aside from his belt, but he saw that set on a trunk that looked at least as old as Bruce, a few feet away. The room was, as he already determined, lavishly decorated.

Tim pushed himself out of the bed and onto a carpet so thick he kind of wanted to pull off his shoes and curl his toes in it, but seeing as he still had no idea where he was, who took him, or why, he figured that was probably out of the question. He did make a mental note to ask Bruce for some better carpet when he got home. As a kind of gift for surviving a very weird kidnapping.

Instead, he moved to walk carefully around the room. He found no obvious traps, no cameras or speakers or microphones that were either hidden or out in the open, and both doors were unlocked.

The first he opened revealed a bathroom. The second he cracked open to peer out of. His eyes locked on that of an honest to goodness ninja standing guard outside the door. The man locked eyes with him and Tim snapped the door shut with a click.

Welp, that answered the who and maybe even the where of Tim’s abduction. Ra’s Al Ghul. He was pretty sure if he gave the ninja ten minutes to go find Mr. al Ghul himself, he’d have the why too.

While he waited, Tim snapped his belt back around his waist, comfortable to have its weight back, even if being in a League stronghold meant all the tricks in his pockets were basically useless on his own. Still, it was nice to feel fully like Robin again.

After that it was a matter of waiting.

Tim paced an actual trench into the thick carpet as he waited. Batman was of course looking for him. That was a given, he just had to wait for the man to find him. Or for Ra’s to send him home? He really wasn’t sure why the Eco-terrorist would have taken him in the first place beyond a really weird obsession with Batman's various sidekicks.

How come all of Bruce’s baddies seemed to have a strange fixation on Robins? It was weird how many went out of their way to kidnap and attempt to recruit him, Dick, and if the stories were to be believed, Jason too.

Just as Tim was starting to turn that particular thought over in his head, the door to his room opened and Ra’s himself strolled in.

“Timothy.” the man drawled.

“Ra’s.” Tim replied, suddenly totally and completely unsure what to do with his hands, voice, feet, and general self. This wasn’t a fight after all.

He settled for crossing his arms and being terribly glad his domino hid his eyes.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here.” Ra’s said.

Tim shrugged, “It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to guess that.”

The man frowned at him, and Tim started to wonder if maybe he should be watching his words a bit. He wasn’t in Gotham with Batman at his back after all. But then again, Ra’s must need something from him right? So a little sass was okay, what was Robin without a smart mouth after all?

“I mean--” Tim started, unable to stop himself now that he was thinking about it, “I can probably start to guess. You didn’t kill me and I’m not in a dungeon so you’ve got to want something from me right? I bet this is some blend of trying to win me over and also hold me above Batman because you--” he paused for a moment trying to remember if Bruce had been on Ra’s’ trail at all lately.

He dropped his arms and clapped, remembering, “You’ve been trying to break into energy and you want Wayne Enterprise to back you and legitimize your business. So you’re holding Tim over Bruce, but you probably want Robin because you and like half of Batman’s rogues have this weird obsession with teen heroes for some reason."

At some point he’d stopped looking at Ra’s and actually started pacing again. When he stopped talking his feet stilled and he looked back up at Ra's and grinned, ""So, am I hot or freezing cold?”

He expected Ra's to looked angry or irritated, instead he looked amused.

“You are quite warm. Though I would contend the assertion that I have a weird obsession with teen heroes. I am only interested in the exceptional, and you Timothy, are exceptional indeed.”

Tim gulped, “I mean--not really? But thanks.”

Ra’s waved him off, “We will speak more later. You are correct, I do intend to use you as a bargaining chip against your guardian--”

“Dad.” Tim interjected.

The man raised an eyebrow but continued, “However you are not a prisoner in the traditional sense. You may wander the compound with one of my men by your side to ensure you do not get into trouble. If all goes well you will be returned to Batman within a reasonable amount of time. Unless, of course, you do decide you would like to stay and learn from me.”

“I don’t really see that happening.” Tim said, “But I'll be sure and let you know if I make a sudden turn towards world domination.”

Again, Tim expected some kind of retaliation, but he was thankfully ignored. Ra’s left him with a warning not to cause undue trouble and soon Tim was alone in the room again.

He spent the next couple days wandering the compound somewhat aimlessly. He had a phone call with Bruce where he promised his dad that he was totally fine if a little bored, and spent the rest of his time trying to avoid Ra’s. The man was kind of relentless in his attempts at winning Tim over to his side and sought him out at meals, when Tim was trying to train a bit at one of the many gyms, and even once while Tim was wandering a rather fantastic garden. Each time, Tim did his best to wiggle out of the man's suggestions and just get back to wiling away the time between then and getting home.

Thankfully, it was all over in four days when Batman came crashing in with Nightwing and Batwoman to rescue him, and soon Tim was home and settling back into normal life.

He’d actually almost forgotten about the whole Ra’s kidnapping him until it happened again. Once had been a surprise, two times was starting to look deliberate.

This one lasted a week with Ra’s claiming it was because he still really wanted that energy deal and he just couldn’t understand why Bruce wasn’t willing to trade that for his ward (son Tim had ground out in irritation).

Tim almost believed him, until he woke one morning to find a pamphlet had been slipped under his door, it was literally a flyer promoting hiring in the League. Tim looked over it and had to laugh out loud. The text was done in a mix of papyrus and other fonts and whoever made it had used clip art. It looked like someone had typed it up in Microsoft word in like half an hour.

He spent the rest of his time there re-designing the flyer, with a ninja hanging over his shoulder as he used one of the League computers. The new one wasn’t the best flyer in the world, but Tim was pretty proud of it, and it was much better than the first draft.

When he was done, he pocketed the original, then pinned a note to the new one that said: Ha! Not until you get better designers.

Batman rescued him again, and Tim pushed the double kidnapping and Ra’s’ weird obsession to the back of his mind until the next time he was with Steph.

They were in the manor watching a Chopped marathon and Tim was telling her about both kidnappings.

“So he’s super into energy? How come he didn’t nab Dick? We all know he’s Bruce’s favorite.” Steph teased, popping a chip into her mouth.

“Setting aside that obvious lie, that’s the thing,” Tim continued, digging out the flyer he’d kept, “It has nothing to do with energy or Dick. I’m pretty sure Ra’s is trying to recruit me.”

He showed her the paper and Steph snorted, spraying chips out as she laughed, “No. Freaking. Way. I have to tell Cass. Let me show her this, please I’m begging you.”

Tim groaned, “Yeah, sure, but don’t you think it’s weird?”

She shrugged, taking the flyer to look it over, “Of course, but the B-man attracts weird like ice cream dropped on the ground attracts ants. Give him six months, and Ra’s will move onto a different way of trying to piss off Batman.”

“I hope so.” Tim said.

The third time Tim woke up in the elaborate room he was getting really sick of the decor and the headache that came with being knocked out and dragged halfway across the world.

“You know.” Tim started, the moment Ra's walked into his room (and it was actually Tim’s room he’d learned from one of the ninja guards), “You could have waited a month this time, to at least pretend this wasn’t all about your super weird plan to try and convince me into letting you adopt me.”

Ra’s opened his mouth to respond, but Tim wasn’t done.

“Which, by the way, I’m taken already. B did the whole adopting thing, so you missed that window. Though, I guess that probably doesn't really matter to you in the grand scheme of things since you keep kidnapping me. You are aware that kidnapping isn’t the best way to convince someone that your way is the right one, right?”

“Also, would it kill you to pick up some --I don’t know-- books on recruitment or something? I don’t understand how you’ve managed to get so many guys on your side it’s--” Tim started, but Ra’s had caught on to Tim’s mood at this point, conceded temporary defeat, and made a hasty retreat.

Tim didn't see him the whole rest of the day, and by the next morning Batman showed up, swinging in for another rescue and all was fine and good and normal for a while.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

It was the fourth kidnapping that really set Tim off.

He woke up back in that stupid room with it’s stupid decor and those stupid posters ready to burn the place to the ground. But something stopped him, a premonition. Like if he was patient for just a little longer he’d find a good and proper form of revenge to take on Ra’s for his total inability to take a hint.

At some point two ninja came by to take Tim to meet with Ra’s. As they walked Tim couldn’t help but notice the posters literally lining the hallways they walked through.

They were of two wildly different styles, but both struck a thought of familiarity in his mind. One was obviously a play on the classic “I want you in the army” poster. The other ripped off old “pin up” recruitment posters. Both made him laugh, and Tim pulled a couple of each down to save to show the Titans. He had a feeling Bart and Kon would lose their minds over these.

He had just folded them up and shoved them in his back pocket when they reached an office. Inside, Ra’s sat in a chair and motioned Tim to sit in one across from him.

“Thank you for joining me, Timothy.”

Tim sat and shrugged, “Not like I had much of a choice.”

Ra’s waved him off. As he did, a different ninja from either of the ones who’d escorted Tim to the office came in with a tray of tea. He handed Ra’s a cup, then gave one to Tim, and left the set on a table between them.

The whole vibe was kind of awkward and strange. Tim felt very much like he had one time a year ago when he’d realized halfway through a date that things were not going to work out. He hadn’t been able to end the date then and there, and had spent another two hours awkwardly making small talk and trying to avoid promising a second date.

“Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.”

Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

Tim took a sip of his tea in an attempt at avoiding having his mouth drop open in shock. Ra’s sounded like something out of a “Executive success seminar” that was just a veiled multilevel marketing scheme.

“To put it plainly, Timothy, I want you to become my apprentice. I know you and assume you might be hesitant to accept this lifestyle so I’ve prepared for you something of a presentation on what that might entail.”

Tim couldn’t stop a laugh from bursting out of him, but he did manage to turn it into a kind of cough.

“Wait--wait.” he said, almost choking on his tea, “Are you about to show me a powerpoint?”

Ra’s looked a bit put out at that suggestion, almost like he wanted to sigh, “Of course not, it’s more interactive than that.”

Tim held up his free hand, incredulous, “Is this--a job interview Ra’s? I thought you were pitching this to me.”

“No, no. It’s an interactive presentation designed to show you just what you have to gain from joining me.” Ra’s explained, as he did so Tim took another sip of his tea.

He lifted his cup and waved it lightly, “Oh yeah, so I’m just in one of those fairy tales then where you make me do three impossible tasks and at the end I get the happily ever after dip in the lazarus pit?”

“It’s only one trial--”

“So it is a task!” Tim declared, almost standing.

“Timothy.” Ra’s snapped, sounding a bit like Bruce whenever Tim and Steph’s antics pushed him a bit too far.

Tim crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Irritating the man was a bad idea, Tim knew that, but this was just ridiculous. He wasn’t going to be sent on a wild quest that might end up with him dunked in a Lazarus Pit or whatever else Ra’s had in mind that would supposedly prove how great it would be to work for him.

“If you are not going to take this seriously, then there are other ways of showing you why joining me is a good idea that are not nearly as pleasant.” Ra’s growled.

Tim held up his free hand, “I’d rather not find out, give me your pitch or send me off with your best ninja or whatever you were planning.”

He figured playing along would work for now. He could put off giving Ra’s an answer until Bruce came in for a third rescue. When he was home, they were going to have a serious conversation about ninja proofing the manor. Ra’s could not keep kidnapping him like this, they had to have some kind of security measures in place.

“Wonderful. I’m sure after your tour you’ll have a better understanding of what I have to offer you.”

Tim ended up following someone Ra’s called his “best general” around the compound for an hour. The guy showed Tim the training rooms, the medical suite, sparring rings, a variety of ninja’s actually practicing, and at one point they even ended up in the library. The general had been given instructions to pause anywhere Tim wanted him to, and so they lingered in the library for a bit.

He had to admit, Ra’s had a fantastic library.

The general didn’t seem worried about Tim getting lost, or escaping, and waited by the door while he wandered the massive room.

And boy was it huge. It was bigger than the main floor of the cave, with stacks and stacks of books on two floors. Some of the volumes looked ancient, and there were even scrolls shelved on the second floor.

He gingerly pulled one out to examine.

“That is worth more than you could ever imagine.” a sharp, young voice, declared, behind him.

Startled, Tim dropped it back onto the shelf and spun. Before him stood a kid, probably 8 years old, with tousled dark hair, dark skin, and a face that almost echoed some of Bruce’s school photos. It was startling.

“Hi.” Tim said, dumbly, “I know, it’s Ancient Sumarian right?”

“Tt.” the boy crossed his arms, “You are not an idiot then.”

Tim shook his head, “Nah, apparently I’m smart enough to be selected for recruitment.”

The kid nodded, “So you are Grandfather’s young detective. He speaks highly of you.”

Grandfather? Tim’s brain spun. This kid was Ra’s al Ghul’s grandkid? He ran the numbers, the kid’s mom was either Talia or Nyssa. If he had to put money on it, Tim figured the boy before him looked more like Talia than her sister. And his other features--like Bruce’s?

No.

No. Freaking. Way.

“That is hardly language to use here.” The boy said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Tim hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, but apparently his surprise had been so great he had. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I just never expected Ra’s to have a grandkid.”

“It is not surprising to me, I am his heir. Born to inherit the League and rule the world one day.”

Okay, that was a lot to unpack. Just a totally wild amount, but Tim wasn’t super focused on the world domination thing just yet (maybe later when he had a chance to process all of--well, all of it), “Sorry to keep pressing but, doesn’t having an heir kind of--I don’t know, put his whole Eternal Ruler of the League thing in jeopardy?”

“Tt. It is not my place to question my Grandfather’s plans. I simply know what I have been told, that I will inherit the League one day in his stead.”

“Well,” Tim rocked back on his heels casually and grinned, “That might be a long loooong time.”

The kid’s brows furrowed as if he had not really considered that idea before. He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to decide against it, dropping his arms to his sides to shrug, “If that is his wish then so be it.”

“True.” Tim said, not really knowing what to say. Instead he settled on changing the subject, “You know, if your grandfather gets his way I’ll be spending more time here, so I guess introductions are in order. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne, but most people just call me Tim.”

He held his hand out to the kid, smiling at him. If he really was Bruce’s then they’d be getting to know each other for sure. Just not here. Tim had zero intentions on letting Bruce’s child stay with the League. Did B he even know he had a kid? Tim thought he’d better figure that out first before kidnapping his little brother.

Little brother. Just that idea made something flutter in Tim’s chest. He’d always wanted a little brother.

The boy scowled at his hand, and did not take it, “You may be correct, even if I do not see what Grandfather seems to. I am Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Tim bit back a grin at just how serious this kid was. He sounded like a little prince, all imperious and haughty. Damian, even his name fit him. He wondered how Damian would do around Dick? Or Stephanie. They’d figure out how to bring a smile out of him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Damian.” Tim said, “I know we’ve really only just met, but I’m sure you’ll see what Ra’s does in time.”

Damian looked him over again, then gave a sharp nod, “I am interested in seeing what you have to offer.”

“Damian, I found it, where’d you go?” A voice sounded from deeper within the stacks.

Tim started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Knew it from nights spent chasing shadows, from recording’s Bruce had watched a hundred times when he didn’t think Tim was watching. From Tim’s own desire to know and learn more about his predecessor. It was Jason Todd’s voice.

But that couldn’t be. Jason was dead.

“I am coming.” Damian returned, his tone more childlike than Tim had heard in their whole conversation. He turned back to Tim, “Do not ruin that scroll, I will see you later.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Tim stepped forward, reaching out for the kid, “Wai--”

“Master Tim, we really must be going.” Tim’s guide was back, stepping into his view as if from nowhere, and stopping Tim’s chase as short as it had been.

“Can we wait just one more second?” he asked, “I wanted to ask Damian something else.”

The man’s mouth turned down in a frown, “I do not have clearance to let you speak with Master Damian. Come, we have more to see.”

Frustration bubbled up in Tim, but unless he wanted to start a fight he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Damian right then. The kid had promised to see him later, so maybe he’d seek Tim out. If not, Tim would find a way.

As he followed the man out of the library, he kept searching the stacks of books for a sign of the others. It wasn’t until they’d left the room that Tim caught sight of Damian again, his small form waving animated at a taller, broader one. One that, while older, was unmistakably Jason.

Before Tim could say screw everything, the two turned around a corner, and someone else was clearing their throat. His guide seemed eager to move on, and so they did.

Tim tuned out most of the rest of the tour, and eventually found himself back in the office from before, once again seated across from Ra’s.

“Timothy, I hear you have met my grandson on your tour.” Ra’s started.

“I did.” Tim said, a bit hesitant to go into detail, his guide had seemed like talking to Damian was a pretty serious thing, and suddenly Tim was afraid he’d gotten the kid in trouble.

Ra’s smiled, “He is magnificent is he not? Already he is a skilled warrior, and well trained in his studies.”

“He said he was your heir?” Tim ventured.

The man waved a hand dismissively, “Of course he is, he is my grandson, but that does not mean he will inherit. The boy is valuable to me, for many reasons. He is an excellent tool to wield against my enemies already, and will only become more so as he grows.”

Anger bubbled up in Tim. There was something in Ra’s’ tone that made Tim sick, to call a kid a tool. To plan to just use him his whole life?

“And what, do you want to do that with me too? You said you wanted me to be your apprentice, but if your Heir is just a tool then--”

“No, as I said I want you to take over a branch of the League. You have talents and skills Damian will not. The boy is--” Ra’s shrugged, “Let us call him a vessel. A shell for me to wield in one way or another.”

Well, that just made Tim even more angry. Damian was his grandkid. What Tim wouldn't have given to still have his grandparents, and for Ra’s to just--If Tim wasn’t already dead set on getting Damian home, he would be after this conversation.

“You know what, Ra’s. Let me think on it a while. I’ll get back to you on my answer. I kind of want to see Damian in action a bit, learn what this training looks like in someone closer to my age.”

The man considered this for a moment before nodding, “I will let you watch his sparring session tomorrow. For now, I think we’re done. Have a good evening, Timothy.”

Tim nodded, and left. His mind was racing, he wanted another look at Jason. Wanted to tell Damian about his dad. Wanted to make sure both his brothers were okay.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed the black and blue clad arm that reached out from behind a curtain and yanked him back. Nightwing put a hand over Tim’s mouth to quiet him, and then pulled him out the window the curtain had been hiding. They dropped, into nothing--except it was solid?

Tim found himself inside the invisible jet. Inside, and flying away from his newly discovered siblings before he could even argue they needed to be rescued too.

One flight with Wonder Woman and Nightwing later, and Tim was home again, being told in stern tones by both Batman and Nightwing that he really needed to stop allowing himself to be kidnapped by ninjas (like he didn’t know that).

Then he was in his room, in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind whirring. He had learned two things on this trip. Two impossible things. Two things he was going to leverage as soon as he could.

It was late, and he should be sleeping, but instead he texted Steph and Cass in their little group chat.

Tim: Want to cause some chaos?

Immediately he received a response:

Steph: Always

Cass: Who are we going after?

Tim smiled, his fingers dancing over his phone:

Tim: Ra’s.

Cass: Time to teach him a lesson?

Steph: I've been waiting for this, I’ll get the kerosene

Tim: There’s more.

Cass: Tell.

The light flashed on out in the hallway, Tim could see it flicker to life under his door.

Tim: Tomorrow, lunch at that place with the sweet potato fries. Come ready to plan a kidnapping or two.

The next day Tim found both Steph and Cass waiting eagerly for him at the restaurant, a heaping plate of sweet potato fries between them.

“Spill, Bird Brain.” Stephanie said, as he sat down, pushing some fries towards him, “I want to hear everything about this crusade against Ra’s.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and snagged a fry, dipping it in one of the sauces they’d gotten to accompany it.

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I had another visit to the League compound yesterday.” Tim started, “It was more of a day trip this time, but Ra’s did his very best to sell me on signing up.”

“More posters?” Cass guessed, then shook her head seeing Tim’s expression, “What did he do?”

Tim snagged another fry, “Yes more posters, but more than that he gave me a speech right out of a How to Recruit for Dummies book, then sent me on a tour of the building.”

Steph snorted, “Please tell me you recorded it.”

“I did not, but you will never believe what I found on my tour, or to be precise who.”

Both girls paused their snacking, waiting on him to continue.

Tim dropped the first bomb, “Jason Todd, alive and breathing.”

“What, no way.” Steph said, “How’d he even get there? I thought He was buried here?”

He shrugged, “I don’t have any of the details, but they’ve got a Lazarus pit, and Ra’s is weirdly obsessed with recruiting Robin’s, so I’d say his resurrection tracks.”

“Who else was there?” Cass asked, brow furrowed.

Now this he knew neither of them would be expecting. Tim hadn’t expected it. He still couldn’t believe it.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, Damian.” Tim said, watched both girls look even more confused, then added, “The son of Bruce and Talia. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s their kid.”

The fry Stephanie was holding dropped out of her hand.

Tim watched Cass processing the information, saw her realization that there was another child being raised in the League, then saw the determination cross her face at her own personal decision.

“We are taking them both, correct?” Cass asked.

“We’re taking them both, and burning the place down.” Tim confirmed, “That should properly pay him back for all the time’s he’s kidnapped me this year.”

Steph’s lips turned up into a sharp grin, “The law of equivalent exchange.”

Tim laughed, “You’ve been watching too much tv.”

“It’s prepped me for this very moment.” she shot back, voice falsely grave.

“Batman prepared you for this very moment.” Cass elbowed her.

“No.” Tim said, “I’m going to prep you. And then we’re going to put everything in action.”

They talked, and planned, and debated the pros and cons of letting Tim get nabbed again over just going himself, and eventually after many many sweet potato fries and sodas they were ready.

It was to be infiltration first, fire and kerosene second. Obviously the place was going to go up, but only after they set the stage for rebellion and convinced Damian and Jason to go home with them. Tim didn’t think it’d be a hard sell for Jason, but the kid was another matter altogether. If Tim couldn’t convince him to come along, they may actually end up having to kidnap Damian.

A key to the plan was that only Tim, Steph, and Cass were in on it. There was no way Bruce was giving the green light for such a thing. Besides, Tim wanted to see his face when they presented him with not one, but two, rescued sons from the League.

Over the next week Tim made himself the most kidnappable he’d ever been. He wandered outside, kept to himself, and tried to look as wide eyed as possible. He lingered in parking lots, and took shortcuts down empty alleyways. Basically, he did everything he could to signal he was alone and vulnerable besides hanging a sign around his neck that said “Take me to your (ninja) leader”.

At one point he even stopped, dead center in the middle of an alley and declared, “Wow this sure is a dangerous place to be! I hope I don’t get attacked and kidnapped by ninjas!”

The only response he got that time was from an older woman who stopped at the edge of the alley and very seriously called out, “Careful, young man. Don’t you know there are killer clowns out? You best be on your way before you get hurt.”

Then, at long last, Tim caught sight of one of the League members ducking behind a shadow. He paused his walk, and leaned over as if fascinated by something on the sidewalk in front of him. By the time he’d stood, the ninja was in front of him.

Tim held up his hands in surrender, doing his best not to actually look excited. Then, he was successfully kidnapped for the fifth --and if Tim’s plan worked successfully-- final time.

#Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain #Batfamily #fanfiction #crack #crack treated seriously #multimedia fic #humor #kidnapping attempts #revenge plots #Ra's tries to recruit tim #Spoilers it backfires #what is canon #precious posts #long post #chapter 1

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starrywolf101 · 3 years

Note

For the zombieinnit thing what about different people finding out how fragile Tommy is

The 5 Times Tommy Gets Hurt

(+1 he gets protected)

1 - Jack Manifold

He had a brief interaction with Manifold on the day he left the prison, but he was still reeling and not truly listening to anything Jack said. That day was more of a blur than anything.

But now here he was, wanting Jack to stop rebranding the hotel. It was only a couple weeks since the last time he'd seen the other, but by now he's made more strides in recovering. Nobody but Puffy, Sam, Tubbo, Ranboo, and Michael knew about his zombie status yet.

Currently Jack Manifold and him were locked in a glaring content, both of his eyes locked onto the other's heterochromic eyes.

"Look, Jack, you can keep managing it and everything, but I really need you to remember that it's my property. Not yours, you arse."

Apparantly not liking that answer, Jack sneers and shoves Tommy. Freezing up in fear, Tommy doesn't even trying to defend himself from the attack. He loses his balance and falls to the ground, skull hitting the floor with a sickening crack. Regret flairs through Jack's veins as he immediately drops to his knees to check over the kid. Tommy's eyes are glazed over as he stares blankly up. His mind is replaying the moment he died over and over again, when his skull was slammed into the obsidian floor. Back in the present, Jack calls Sam Nook for help, the robot had been standing outside the hotel as per usual. He didn't actually want Tommy dead... again,,

When the robot had started helping Tommy, the kid's new... symptoms having been recorded into It's database, Jack had nearly puked. The back of Tommy's head, where he had hit the ground, looked rotted, and... ew was that Tommy's brain??? How was the kid still awake!?

He watches in shock as Sam Nook pours a potion of harming onto Tommy's injury, nearly jumping in to stop the robot, before watching with widened eyes as the wound healed...

"YOU WILL SPEAK NOTHING OF THIS JACK MANIFOLD."

Jack had nodded silently and fled the scene. There was so much to process...

2 - Sapnap

Sapnap and Tommy have always had a... complicated relationship. Sometimes they got along, and other times they were against each other. But since Dream had cut all attachments, Tommy had shown sympathy and reached out an olive branch to the other, and Sapnap had taken it. They still don't always get along perfectly, but its back to how it used to be... playful teasing and pranks!

But since the kid had left the prison, he's been... quieter. Seeing Tommy so quiet felt wrong.

In fact, he rarely saw the kid nowadays.

Having been looking for an excuse to see the teen, Sapnap had found the perfect thing. By a river, he'd found a rock that, if you squinted, it was shaped like a dick. Surely Tommy would get a kick out of this!

Approaching the dirt shack, gift in his pocket, Sapnap had a slight skip in step. He knocks on the door and called out for the boy.

"Tooommmyy! Are you home?"

A crash inside the home was worrying, but a quiet groan of pain set off alarm bells. Without another thought, Sapnap tries the doorknob— surprisingly the door was unlocked. Did this kid want to be stolen from??? Shaking off the stray thoughts, once again focused on the task at hand, he opens the door and enters. A light on downstairs leads Sapnap into a storage room with Tommy sitting curled up in the corner.

A rancid smell hits his nostrils and he scrunches his nose. An odor that was familiar to the awful smell of meat having gone bad.

Walking up to the teen, Tommy stared back at him with large, scared eyes. He was cradling his hand close to his chest, hiding it from view. And now that he was closer, something in the back of his mind registered that the smell was coming from the kid.

"Hey Tommy," Sapnap's voice took on a softness usually reserved for his close friends and his fiances. "Wanna tell me what happened so I can help?"

After a moment of Tommy examining his facial expression, he must've realize Sapnap meant no harm, and hesitantly holds his hand out. What Sapnap sees makes him want to vomit. Across Tommy's palm was a huge cut, but it was green and purple... the muscles torn and bone glimpseable .

Frowning, Sapnap mumbles: "Oh, kid... Here, I have a regen pot on me–"

"NO" Tommy's panicked shout cuts him off mid-sentence. "I– I mean," the kid gets quiet and nervous. "Use the one from my chest...: He shakily points towards the single chest across the room with his good hand.

Shaking off the shock, Sapnal roots through the chest and pulls out a bottle ful of a sickly potion... upon realizing what kind of potion it was, the cogs in his head turn. Rancid smell, rotted wound, potion of harming... Tommy was undead.

Sapnap scoots back over to Tommy, gently taking hold of the kid's wrist as to avoid spilling the potion on himself, and pours a generous amount of the viscous liquid onto Tommy's injury. The kid winces, but neither miss the twin looks of relief on their faces as the wound knits itself closed.

Seeing that Tommy was still clearly in a bad mental space, he remember the gift in his pocket. Pulling it out and handing it to the other, Sapnap smiles as he simy says: "I got you a dick rock."

Tommy's surprised, burst laugh was like music to his ears.

3 - Ghostbur

Ghostbur didn't understand what Tommy meant when he said he'd died. Tommy couldn't die, right...? No, his little brother was a survivor!

There was no way he had talked to Alivebur... but that look in Tommy's eyes... there was no way to fake that.

All the evidence kept piling up, and though he forgot some of it, some things never left his mind anymore. The way Tommy would get scared of taking damage, the way touch repulsed him... Tommy was also a lot quieter nowadays.

It was a nice day in Snowchester when it Ghostbur was confronted with the awful truth.

He had been visiting the small community when he spotted Tommy huddled up inside Tubbo's house. Obviously, he wondered why his little brother wasn't outside playing in the snow, so he goes to investigate.

"Tommy!" His raspy voice calls out cheerfully upon entering the cozy home. "Tommy what are you doing inside?"

He misses the way Tommy flinches, the terrified look in the youngest's eyes. Maybe Wilbur would've spotted it immediately, but Ghostbur wasn't him. He only saw the forced smile that covered it up, mistaking it for genuine happiness.

Tommy opens his mouth to respond, but he hesitated too long. Ghostbur was already talking again, excitedly bouncing in place. "I saw the snow outside and I remember how we used to have snowball fights when you were itty bitty, and it must've been a long time ago because now you're all tall and gangly! So I was thinking to myself, 'hmm, Tommy had been so sad lately! You know what would cheer him up? A snowball fight!' Except I can't touch the snow or else I'll melt so I thought we could go find Tubbo to play with!" It was a good thing Ghostbur didn't need to breathe anymore, because that whole rant would've taken a lot of air. Before Tommy could even finish processing all of that, Ghostbur grabs his wrist and starts tugging.

The unexpected contact send Tommy reeling, memories of a time when Wilbur would drag Tommy by the wrist, grip tight and unrelenting as the kid kicked and screamed. Times in the dark, cold ravine where nobody else could hear him plead for help. That morphed into when Dream started to doing the same thing during exile. Dream and Wilbur were interchangeable, their voices of anger and disappointment morphing into one. Adrenaline kicking in, Tommy starts shouting out for help, thrashing in Ghostbur's loose grip and causing the ghost to let go in surprise.

Luckily, Ranboo was close by and appeared inside the house. His teleportation ability kicking in without him realizing. He's quick to Tommy's side as the ghost watches on in horror. Quiet, comforting vwoops leave Ranboo's chest, and Tommy unconsciously curls closer to the source of familiar comfort. Once the majority of the panic was over, Tommy looks at Ranboo, eyes locked onto his tie. "Ra' boo?" The youngest slurs out tiredly.

"Hey, Tommy, you're safe. You're in Snowchester, with Tubbo and me."

Tommy simply nodded and closed his eyes, slumping over. The air is still for a moment, a tense quiet fills the walls of the house.

"Is... is he okay...?" Ghostbur finally speaks up.

"Honestly? Not really..." Ranboo answers, turning to look at the ghost, but never quite making eye-contact. "But he'll be better when he wakes up. Panic attacks are exhausting, especially for him nowadays.."

When Ranboo picks Tommy up, the red and white shirt rides up on his side a little, giving Ghostbur a good look at a nasty wound. Flesh eaten away to reveal the muscle underneath. Already feeling himself forgetting, Ghostbur watches the two teens leave the room.

4 - Philza

It had been awhile since he'd seen Tommy. Last time had been when he'd shown up to help Ranboo move. After the eyepatch incident, the base had been wrapped in a tense silence. Ranboo left for a few days afterwards, though Techno and Phil couldn't blame him. He did come back, but nobody spoke of what happened.

So, Phil hadn't been ready to run into Tommy in the Nether. He had just been on his way towards the larger SMP when he saw the kid sitting on a path, legs dangling off the side as he stared into the lava below. That sight set off so many alarm bells, and it took everything in Phil not to yank the kid back from the edge.

"What are you doing out here, mate?" Phil calls out, wings ruffling nervously on his back. He kept his voice and expression calm.

Tommy flinches, but his posture quickly relaxes again as he turns to look at Phil, his empty socket uncovered. Phil has to force himself to not stare at it. "Oh, its you." There was an apathetic tone to Tommy's voice that rubbed him wrong. Tommy was one of the most expressive people he'd ever met, and to hear him so emotionless...

Contrary to popular belief, he was not Tommy's dad. He hadn't even met the kid until his son, Wilbur, had gotten attached. But that Tommy was very different from the one he's looking at now. What had caused this change?

"You just gonna keep fucking staring at me like I'm some circus freak, or are you gonna sit down already?" Tommy pulls Phil out of his thoughts, causing the man to blink in confusion. He accepts the offer before the teen catching his mind— sitting cross-legged on the path beside Tommy, but not too close. They sit in silence for a bit, listening to the songs of the Nether. Piglins and Zombie Piglins oink and snort, there's a distant cry of a Ghast, and even the lava is bubbling to its own tune. Every now and then, Phil catches himself staring at Tommy, forcing himself to look elsewhere when he does. Tommy catches on, "I know I'm handsome and all, but staring is considered rude, bitch. Thought someone as old as you would know that," there's a hint of teasing in his tone.

Embarrassment floods his veins, causing Phil's wings to poof a bit, but he could blame it on the heat. "Erm– Sorry, mate... just caught up in my own head, I guess,"

Tommy rolls his eye and makes direct eye-contact with Phil. "I don't want your pity. I don't care for your thoughts. If you have questions, ask them now, cause you might never get another opportunity."

Phil swallows heavily and looks away. A lot of questions raced through his mind, but only one stuck:

"Did you talk to Wilbur?"

The teen grimaced, and that was an answer all in itself. "Yeah, asshole talked about solitare for months straight, would not shut up about the stupid game."

Oh... that hadn't been the answer he was expecting.

"And then continued to want to destroy the entirety of the SMP. He's acting crazier than before, but I guess I would too if I sat in a void for nine years too."

He remembers reading something about the time difference between death and life... back when he was still researching revival. Moving on from his question about Wilbur, he then asks: "How have you been doing?"

Tommy simply shrugs. "Usually? I'm either knee deep in flashbacks, or I'm aware enough to stumble about. Today? Can't feel a thing– 'm hollow. That's why I don't care about the questions,, I literally can't."

His heart breaks as he listens to Tommy's words, here is a kid so beat down and ruined by the world. To the point where he's gone numb. Not sure what else to do, Phil pulls Tommy into a hug, wrapping his wings around them. "I'm sorry."

Still for just a moment, Tommy slowly leans into the embrace, "Yeah.. me too."

5 - Puffy

Captain Puffy prides herself on being there for her friends. For trying for those she loves. Learning that she didn't try hard enough for Tommy left her broken.

And then, by some miracle, he was back. But... not as he was. In fact, the trauma he's lived (and died) through seems to have shut the once lively boy down.

She finds him hesitating outside her therapy office, or therapuffy as she calls it, fiddling with his torn and bloodied shirt. She mentally noted that he needs a new wardrobe.

"Hey, Tommy! What's up, my dude?" She keeps her voice soft and upbeat, not wanting to scare him away. "Did you need something?"

She internally frowns at the way he shies away from her, even though she's not anywhere near enough to initiate contact. Even stranger is how he doesn't fully turn to face her, half his face obscured from view. Still, she doesn't show she noticed it, and continues to smile warmly. Here was a duckling who was afraid of opening back up, but desperately in need of that love and affirmation he deserves. But she has to wait for him to come to her.

Realizing that maybe he wouldn't start anything on his own, she starts up the conversation. "Did you hear about the latest prank on Bad?" She asks. When Tommy shakes his head, the corner of her lip quirks up in amusement as she continues. "Somebody put a bunch of swear words all over his house!" That gets a chuckle out of Tommy.

They sit in silence after that, though its not awkward. It feels more like Tommy is internally debating on what to say, and Puffy didn't want to distract him. After a minute, with his voice uncharacteristically quiet, he asks: "Do you have any potions...?"

"Yeah! I've got some in storage," She hums. "Do you wanna come with me to get some?"

He hesitantly nods before turning his body to fully face her. That's when she saw it. His cheek in the left side of his face was rotted away, revealing teeth and gums. Nausea twisted in her gut, but still somehow remains calm. Instead of even referencing the gruesome sight, she simply smiles and holds out her hand. Seeming to get the message, Tommy places his hand in hers. She leads him down to where she kept most of her stuff, and sits him down on a spare surface– the place being an empty chest just sitting out.

"What kind of potion you need?" She asks, not wanting to assume and end up messing up.

"...Harming,"

Humming, Puffy digs around for a minute before successfully retrieving a potion of harming. It was a drinking one, surprisingly enough. Usually she just turned all of those into splash pots. Pulling on a pair of gloves and dousing a spare rag in the viscous liquid. Carefully holding up the soaked rag to his face, she hovers just above the rotting flesh and asks: "May I?"

Tommy nods and she presses the cloth to his cheek. She can feel the flesh knit itself back together under the cloth. Once she was sure it was healed, she hands whats left of the potion over for Tommy to drink. That'll fix up any internal damages he was possibly dealing with.

He grimaces as he accepts the bottle, "It always tastes like that shit nasty medicine i took as a kid.." he grumbles before throwing his head back to gulp the potion down as quickly as possible. Her inner pirate from days long gone idly thinks that Tommy would he good at putting down shots.

He soon leaves after that, not a word from either of them. Puffy silently promises to look out for the kid.

+1 - Techno

Tommy was being chased down by Bad and Ant again... though they were quickly gaining on him. Since coming back from the dead, Tommy's had very poor stamina, and he's not sure if its a zombie thing or him being very unhealthy thing. Being skin and bones, unhealthy underweight, would definitely affect him,, but he just couldn't seem to put any of the weight back on now.

The Egg cult must've been especially focused on him, bevause they were still chasing him, and Tommy was stumbling through a snow biome... Deja vu much?

Panting, Tommy can only hear the blood rushing in his ears, his heavy breathing, and the crunching of snow.

There's a light in the distance, though! And a very familiar cabin. Alarms blared in his head, his traitorous brain reminding him that he wasn't welcome here anymore. He didn't have much time to think, though, because his foot gets stuck in a snowdrift, causing him to collapse into the cold, frozen ground. The snow cushions his fall, though he definitely feels his foot pop off from his ankle.

"Well well well, looks like its the end of the road, Tommyinnit... again." Bad mocks in a chilling voice– it was a hollow sort of joy, a mimic of how warm Bad's voice used to be. He watches as Ant picks up the detached foot, frozen still with fear. "Any last words, Tommy?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for his swift end... knowing that Bad was lifting up an axe to swing. Only for it to never come. Instead a clank of metal on metal, and a familiar monotone voice.

"You see, I can't let you do that. You're all on my land, and I'd hate for the snow to stain red."

Peaking open an eye, he's in awe of the sight before him. Technoblade was standing in front of him, his axe having blocked the strike. Bad and Ant look at each other, nod, and back off. It was obvious that going against The Blade was a losing battle. Ant drops the foot into the snow as the two retreat.

Techno puts away his weapon and crouches down to pick up the foot. "What are you doing here, Theseus?" Techno didn't turn towards him.

"Give it back." Tommy ignores the question, putting up his wall. "That's mine, you arse."

"What do you mean its yours? Whose foot is this anyways–" Techno's words cut off as he turns to face Tommy, finally taking in the kid's appearance.

Tommy wasn't wearing his eyepatch, but thats not what caught his attention. It was the lack of a foot attached to his body. Quickly realizing why Tommy was demanding back the foot, he hands it over to the kid, watching in morbid fascination as he pops it right back onto his leg and rolling his ankle. The voices were all screaming different things,and he couldn't make sense of what they were saying.

"So... uh, the weird egg people were chasing you?"

Techno sucked at small talk, but he honestly didn't know what to say as Tommy stood up and brushed the snow off himself. "I'm immune and shit— well I was before the uh, prison visit. But I think I'm still immune."

"Ah,"

...

"Uh, I'm gonna go back home.." Tommy points towards the Nether Portal. "Thank you for saving me, or whatever.."

"Yeah.. yeah,"

...

"I'm just... gonna go."

Techno watches as Tommy starts to head off, slowly crunching through the snow.

He didn't know what terms he was on with the kid, but it didn't seem nearly as hostile as before. It probably wouldn't hurt anything if he started to watch out for Tommy from the shadows..

[Masterpost]

---

Okay its done, I've been working on this for ages! I also didn't go back and read it, and most of this was written while I was exhausted, so there's that

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phis-corner · 4 years

Text

demon’s daughter

I decided to re-open the taglist for this fic because I am sometimes a pushover, so now you can either ask or comment to be on the fic’s taglist or the permanent taglist!

Additionally, I have no consistent update schedule. My first draft is written by hand- I always like to stay two chapters ahead, so I posted this chapter when I finished copying chapter 5 into a Google Doc and proofreading.

Also, fun fact: I hate chocolate. My senses just do not like it at all. I also have a very sensitive tongue and can taste the barest hint of spiciness in foods, which also means I have zero spice tolerance whatsoever. As a Chinese-American with family in Sichuan, this means I get force-fed a lot of extremely spicy foods anyway.

Masterlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 [Chapter 3] Chapter 4

“Why are you letting them stay? He tried to kill Dick!” Timothy points at Damian, who glowers at him from across the cave as Alfred stitches Richard’s cuts.

Marinette sighs. “Akhi was not trying to murder Richard. If you paid more attention, you would notice that all of Richard’s wounds are carefully placed in non-lethal areas meant to slow him down instead of severely injuring him.”

Batman does not say a word. He hasn’t spoken since Richard called him to verify their claims.

“They were raised as assassins, Timmy. It’s normal that they’d feel threatened a lot, and act accordingly. They’re family now. Give them a chance.” Richard replies, and Marinette blinks. She did not expect to have Richard defend them so easily.

“Pardon me,” She pipes up. “But ‘they’ are currently present.”

“Right. Sorry.” Richard has the sense to look guilty. Timothy just glares.

Damian squeezes her hand three times, their signal for I would like to leave. Marinette sighs as she exits the Batcave. Being accepted into the family is… a work in progress.

.o0o.

Slade is put into Blackgate not long after with the information Ubu gave after being interrogated by the Bats. Damian and Marinette were not allowed to go.

Too young, Richard had said. They had interpreted that as You cannot be trusted to keep him alive. He did make the right call though. Damian would have tried extremely hard had he gotten the chance.

Of course, the League did dispose of him not long after anyway, but it was the thought that counted.

Damian and Marinette spent their days in the Manor sparring, reading, or practicing their instruments. Richard, who seemed determined to bond with them, bought them both new sketchbooks, for Damian’s drawings and Marinette’s designs. She had discovered an affinity for clothing design while undercover on a mission, and had been designing ever since.

Cass (she insisted that they call her that instead of Cassandra,) was always happy to spar when asked, and although nobody ever defeated her, it was a welcomed challenge to fight someone who knew your every move, sometimes even before you did. Damian grudgingly admits she is a worthy sister, which makes Marinette smile and Cass beam.

Jason had his own home and only visited every once in a while, and Timothy was rarely seen. It didn’t help that Damian continued to make snarky comments whenever they did see him, but if Timothy was scarce, Father was practically nonexistent.

Since they came to the Manor, their father has said a total of two words to the both of them, and that was just their names when he exited his study as they passed by.

Marinette is determined to make her new family work, and so when she finds Timothy completely by accident, typing away on a laptop in one of the less-used rooms in the Manor, she takes a chance.

“You do know we are not trying to replace you, right?” She asks softly, sitting down in an armchair and deliberately not making eye contact with him.

Timothy snorts. “But is that not what you’re doing? Bruce chose to take in everyone else. I had to blackmail him into letting me be Robin. And then the biological kids show up, born and raised like fucking royalty, so who would care about Tim Drake? The little kid whose parents didn’t even want him and his neighbor only adopted him because he knew his most well-kept secret.”

“We have more in common than you think.” Marinette says quietly.

“Yeah, right.” Timothy laughs bitterly. “The Princess of the League-”

“I wasn’t.” Marinette interrupts.

“Huh? But-”

“I wasn’t the Princess.” Marinette keeps her voice calm with considerable effort. “As soon as I was born, Ra’s gave me over to Lady Shiva. He declared me unworthy because I was a girl, and I was raised as the lowest-ranked assassin. I may have been Shiva’s protege, but that just meant she went even harder on me. I did not know even my last name until after my first death when I was five. I did not properly meet my brother until last year. Ra’s decided that I could be acknowledged, but maintained his stance on feminine inferiority.”

She chuckles hollowly. “You fear being replaced by your father figure’s biological children, Timothy. But your fear is unwarranted. Bruce Wayne chose to adopt you, because he is a good man with copious amounts of generosity. However, it evidently does not extend to his biological children. Talia dumped us at Batman’s feet and left without another word, without looking back. And Father? We may have been a complete surprise, but he has said two words in total to us since that first night- our names. You need not worry, Timothy. You shall not be replaced.”

Marinette stands, her message conveyed, and pauses in the doorway of the room.

“Have a good afternoon, Timothy.”

The next day, Marinette and Damian watch on live television as their father is killed by Darkseid.

.o0o.

The funeral for Batman is somber. Everyone cries except for Marinette and Damian.

She thinks they should be crying, but Marinette simply didn’t know her father well enough to really mourn him. Damian squeezes her hand, and she squeezes back. The twins stand, faces carefully blank, shoulders straight and unmoving, like rocks in an ocean of tears.

Crime in Gotham runs rampant when they think Batman is gone, and so Richard becomes Batman out of necessity- and chooses her twin brother as his Robin.

Nobody else sees how it crushes Timothy, because Cass has left for Hong Kong, abandoning Batgirl and making her own identity as Black Bat. Jason is holed up in a safehouse somewhere, Richard and Damian are in their own little world as they prepare for their first patrol together, and Alfred needs time to mourn too.

So she finds herself knocking on the door to Timothy’s room, one hand holding a plate of sandwiches and a freshly brewed coffee because he hasn’t left his room since the funeral. Marinette quietly enters upon his muffled “Come in” and sets the plate down next to Timothy, whose eyes are red-rimmed and have even larger bags than normal, and yet he continues to work.

“I… noticed you have not come out to eat, so I brought some food and fresh coffee. Black.” She adds, after a moment of hesitation.

“Thanks.” Timothy mumbles, immediately going for the coffee. “Why are you doing this?”

Marinette shrugs. “Everyone else was caught up in their own situation and had issues to work through too. I am relatively unaffected by the circumstances and therefore my observation skills have not declined.” She says simply. “You should also eat. I will not stop you from drinking the coffee, but you cannot work on an empty stomach, either.”

He begrudgingly eats a sandwich, still typing away at his laptop all the while. Marinette notes the tension in his frame.

“Would you like to talk about it? I have read that venting is significantly better for one’s mental health than keeping it bottled up.” She offers.

Timothy suddenly slams the laptop shut, hard, but Marinette doesn’t flinch. The reaction was trained out of her a long time ago.

“It’s not- it’s- my entire life, I’ve been trying to prove myself. Robin was- Robin was special. I wasn’t the first Robin, but it was a reminder that I was worth something to someone, that I could do good and be useful. And then Bruce dies, Dick becomes Batman, and he just names Damian as his Robin like my opinion on the matter meant nothing, booting me out of the position, without any semblance of an explanation and-” He breaks off into sobs.

The sight of somebody crying makes Marinette more than a little awkward, because what is she doing? She doesn’t know how to comfort a crying person, but she does know that Timothy was touch-starved as a child. However, she isn’t the most touchy-feely person on the planet either, so she just settles for rubbing his back as he lets it all out.

Once he’s run out of tears, she silently hands him the tissue box she plucked from his desk.

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are not worthless.” Marinette says sternly. “Nobody is worthless, and you are far from being anywhere near so. You are the cleverest and most intelligent of us all, a capable, quick-thinking strategist, and you have detective skills that rivaled Father’s. I believe Richard chose Damian as Robin because Robin is always supposed to be Batman’s sidekick. He is always taken under Batman’s wing because there are things he hasn’t learned, that Batman can teach him. Richard sees you as an equal, and therefore cannot keep you as his Robin because you have graduated the mantle. It is time you created a new identity and moved on. Do you have anything in mind?”

Timothy sniffs once. “Thank you. I really needed that. And as for the ideas,” He reaches over and pulls out a sketchbook, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve got a few.”

.o0o.

They brainstorm ideas for almost three hours before Timothy falls asleep. Marinette easily carries his light frame to his bed and drapes a blanket over his shoulders before quietly exiting his room.

Thankfully, she managed to convince Timothy that the cowl was a terrible idea. Marinette returns to her own room for her sketchbook. Batman and Robin will have each other’s backs. But Red Hood works alone, leaving Red Robin with nobody to watch his back.

Timothy is Marinette’s brother too, and everyone else is headed into the field anyway. She, like Damian, also had the phrase ‘justice, not vengeance’ drilled into her head, and Richard had made sure to remind them daily to aim for non-lethal spots. Not that she planned on taking a life ever again anyway.

Marinette flips open her sketchbook to a bookmarked page and smiles. It seems that Starling would be making an appearance very soon.

.o0o.

It is almost time for Richard and Damian’s first patrol as Batman and Robin. Marinette heads downstairs to wish them well, but freezes at the sight of her twin in Timothy’s old suit.

“This is unacceptable!” She screeches, hurrying forward and looking pleadingly at Richard. “You cannot let akhi out into Gotham looking like a traffic light!”

Richard frowns, as does Damian. “But you never had a problem with Tim wearing it.”

“Tt. Timothy had little to no prior experience in combat before being trained as Robin. Damian has been trained to utilize the shadows in combat since birth. Wearing those bright colors will make him stand out and put him at a disadvantage.” Marinette tuts, already scribbling out a new design in her sketchbook.

“Then what do you suggest, ukhti?” Damian asks.

“I have a design in mind. The colors will stay, but the yellow and green will have to be significantly darker, and the red should be dulled as well. Sadly, you will have to wear that monstrosity tonight, but I can have the suit finished in time for patrol tomorrow, as will mine and Timothy’s new suits.” She replies, not glancing up from her book.

“What do you mean, Marinette?” Richard questions, and Marinette feels a tiny twinge of annoyance at how he handled telling Timothy about Robin.

“I mean that Timothy and I have crafted new identities as well. You did not expect him to just stop fighting crime, or for me to just sit at home while everyone else carried out Father’s mission, did you?”

Damian nods, a small smile pulling at his lips. “It will be nice to see you in the field too, ukhti.”

“What will your names be?” Richard prods curiously.

“I will not tell you just yet.” Marinette smirks. She shows her twin the finished design. “Does this look alright, akhi?”

“It looks wonderful, ukhti.” Damian replies. “Thank you.”

She sniffs. “Well, somebody had to fix the lack of fashion sense in this household eventually.”

.o0o.

Everyone else in the family may use capes, but Marinette decided that Richard’s Nightwing suit was by far the best because of its lack of one. Capes were long, heavy, a waste of fabric, and overall useless.

The Starling suit was primarily black, with a dark emerald mask covering the lower half of her face (because why carry a gas mask and rebreather when it can be built in?) with gloves and boots in the same color. A single silver star with curved sides was splayed on her chest, and a dark green utility belt rested on her waist. Her steel war fans had holsters strapped to her thighs.

All in all, the suit was built for the shadows. Marinette had learned to master slipping through the dark, unseen, and Gotham was the perfect place to utilize that. Starling would be nothing more than a ghost, a legend, if she had her way. After all, the less citizens knew, the less likely the information would hit the underworld, and that way, the vigilantes wouldn’t have all their cards out in the open.

Damian looks much better in his new suit as well, and Timothy is also grinning when he steps out of the male’s changing room. (A/N: the new 52 suit. I’m not letting him out of the Cave with that ugly cowl, or the traffic light costume with an extra R. Don’t even get me started on the Drake one.)

Richard, cowl still down, smiles as bright as the sun itself. “Good to see you, Robin. Tim, Marinette, can I ask your names?”

Timothy fastens his domino. “Red Robin.”

Marinette pulls her face mask up and curtsies with perfect posture. “Starling. I wish to work in the shadows, if that is alright.”

Richard puts on the cowl and becomes Batman. “You guys all look amazing.” He grins, and it is unsettling to see Batman smile. Oracle logs into the comms from the Clocktower.

“You all ready?”

They split the city in half. Red Robin and Starling take the North while Batman & Robin will cover the South.

Starling trails Red Robin from afar, leaping from building to building and only using her grappling hook when the distance is too great to close by foot. They stop four muggings and two attempted assaults, all without Starling being spotted. The criminals think they hit their head on the alley walls or each other instead of her fist from behind.

It’s almost three in the morning when Batman calls it quits and they return to the Cave, changing out of their suits and showering. They are somehow all unharmed, so Alfred sends them up to bed.

Damian and Marinette brush their teeth before climbing into bed and flipping off the lights.

“Tonight was actually quite enjoyable.” Marinette remarks. “It is a nice feeling, to know that you are helping people.”

Damian hums sleepily. “It is good to know that we are continuing Father’s legacy.”

Marinette smiles. “Yes, I suppose so.” She burrows deeper into her blankets. “Sleep well, akhi.”

“The same goes for you, ukhti.”

For once, Marinette doesn’t have a nightmare.

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Taglist (re-opened and will stay open): @moonlightstar64 @dast218 @our-preciousss @novicevoice @pawsitivelymiraculous @trippingovermyfeet @miyla-lokidottir @consumeconstantly @mochegato @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @azuremayscarlet @iloveitwhen @bran-thecreeper-stark @no-username2544 @susiej1118 @kking13

Permanent taglist (always open): @wannajointhecrabcult @marinettepotterandplagg

Unspecified (you asked to be tagged and did not specify which one): @momothefemur @indecisive-mess-named-me

Note: some of them didn’t work. I am terrible with technology and have no clue how to fix this.

#maribat #mlb x dc #demon's daughter au #my writing

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joheun-saram · 4 years

Text

To Make a Power Couple (knj) | 04

Chapter 4: Cigarette Confetti

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- Y/N and Namjoon get closer as their relationship develops. Also, Y/N suddenly gets too many instagram followers

word count- 8.6k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- unwanted sexual advances, discussion of mindset post unwanted advances, alcohol consumption, oral sex (m. receiving), hickeys

a.n- okay so this chapter is finally done! Thank you for your patience!! It took me a long time to write the scene with Mr Li because I had to pull from my own experience and that was uncomfy - but I hope you like it. Also, there’s a time skip so keep an eye out for that. Also also, can I just say I love writing this character of Namjoon lol this character is my ideal boyfriend material LMFAO.

Hey Alexa, can you fall in love with your own fictional character? Asking for a friend. Thanks.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut, @rjsmochii, @jinjccns, @joyful-jimin

Good morning, Y/N. Today you have four appointments on your calendar. Your first three appointments are as follows. At 7:30am, you have “Morning stand up with Harry (Cancelled)”, at 12:00pm, you have “Jiyoung Gala Update Lunch”, at 2:00pm, you have “Quarterly Sales Meeting”. The weather in Seoul today is 24 degrees and cloudy. Playing BTS on Spotify.

Namjoon wakes up with a start, Jimin’s airy vocals flowing through the room. He’s confused as to why someone in the dorm was playing their old album. About to scream at whoever (probably Taehyung) was playing the music, he opens his eyes to find your face next to his. It takes him a few seconds to realize where he is, and his face breaks into a goofy grin as he recalls the events of the night before. His arm was numb where you lay on it, your arms around his waist, legs tangled together and he traced his fingers on your side in an effort to wake you up.

He could see you stir as you groggily opened your eyes, looking up at him with a smile that made his heart race. He reached to stroke your face, as you hummed an apology and politely asked your alarm to be quiet. Seems that you were nice even to your robots.

“Sorry about that. Work day, you know?” you shrugged as you snuggled closer. Namjoon couldn’t help chuckle as you yawned into his bare chest that erupted in goosebumps at the sensation. He gently pulled your chin towards him to kiss you good morning. Your face was puffy with sleep, your cheeks squished where they lay on the pillows, and watching you was so adorable that he wanted to wake up next to you everyday.

“You play my music in the morning?” He was elated. Just like the night you met when you accidentally sang him his song, he felt his heart soar. The fact that you woke up everyday to the words he wrote made him not only happy but oddly motivated. It was like he wanted to just run out of bed and write another album so you could have more music to wake up to.

He watched your face turn red at his comment and he couldn’t help but capture your lips in another lazy kiss, his hand soothingly circling your back under your t-shirt, well, his t-shirt. He wanted you to know that there was nothing to be embarrassed by. If only you knew how his heart raced at the discovery.

“That… that’s for research… you know to get to know you?” you were stumbling over your words and he couldn’t help but pull you closer. You were so cute when you were bashful.

“Mhmm... sure...” He hummed, amused. Hey, just because he didn’t want you to feel awkward doesn’t mean that he couldn’t still tease you.

“Okay fine. I like your music okay? You’ve converted me to your cult.” You huffed, pouting your lips, and Namjoon burst out laughing.

“What’s your favourite song?”

“Is this a test?” You looked incredulous, as you looked up at him from the crook of his shoulder. Your hands were resting on his chest, and everywhere your fingers traced their aimless patterns left behind warmth under his skin.

“Hmm.. yes. You better get it right.” It wasn’t really a test, but Namjoon would be lying if he said he wasn’t incredibly curious as to which song caught your eye.

“Can I google it?”

“Wait… you’re gonna google… what your favourite song is?” He had not expected this answer. He felt himself deflate a little, his smiling falling. He supposed you were a new fan, maybe you didn’t remember the title and wanted to look up the lyrics, but you could just ask him, he’d know better than google, surely.

“Yes. I’m gonna google which song you didn’t write and say that one cause your ego is getting too big for this bed.” You booped his nose as you burst out laughing, and he couldn’t stop himself from joining along, his earlier worries disappearing. You always surprised him, and it makes him crave what you’ll say next.

“You’re so evil!” he teased as he tickled your sides, making you laugh and roll around your bed. After a few minutes of your protests, he stopped, now positioned over you. Your eyes were beautiful as they look up at his, tears of mirth lining the corners and breathless from your laughter, and he couldn’t help but kiss you again, molding his lips to your soft ones. He loved that your arms automatically went around his waist as you pulled him closer and deepen the kiss, tracing your tongue with his. He kissed you like that for a few minutes, just relishing being in your presence. Your hands were resting on his chest now, thumbs grazing his nipples, making him shudder. It’s like everytime he kissed you, you put him under a spell and he wanted nothing more than to consume you. How was it that you smell like vanilla and flowers even in the morning? Did you just naturally smell like a fresh garden?

“Good morning” He whispered between his kisses, gazing at you softly.

“Good morning” you responded before closing the distance again and kissing him with passion. He could get used to this.

His hand moved under your shirt to cup your chest, rolling your nipple playfully as he continued to kiss you. Your moan went straight from your lips to his dick as he couldn’t help but roll his hips against yours, craving the friction. Your hands went from his chest to palming him over his boxers and the touch made him groan. He was so incredibly turned on and you had barely even touched him. You were going to be the death of him.

He let you carry on your ministrations as he kissed your neck, enjoying your mewls as he reached what he has realized is your sensitive spot, right where your neck meets your shoulder. He could see the marks he left last night and couldn’t help the pride swelling in his chest. He shouldn’t be so turned on by the bruises he left, but he can’t help his kinks. It proved to him that he didn’t imagine last night.

He was slightly taken aback as you slipped your hand in his underwear and started stroking him. He moaned against your neck as pleasure shot through him.

“Want to make you feel good.” you murmured next to his ear, your kisses on his neck making him flush. “Lay back…” He wanted to let you but he wanted to make you feel good first, hear you screaming his name as he made you come undone. He one upped you by placing his own hand in your panties, groaning at how wet you were for him.

“You first.” He said, more sternly than he intended but he didn’t notice as you rut your hips against his hand. Your hand didn’t stopped stroking him and if he was honest it was making him lose his concentration. He removed his hand from your underwear, ignoring your whines, as he stilled your hand, pinning it over your head.

“No… I wanna taste you… Please?” You looked at him with your eyes wide and he was powerless to your pleading. He held his ground though, not letting you take control. Not until you mewled another please and pushed against his chest. He laid back against the pillows as you straddled him, kissing him deeply before making your way down his body. You kissed his chest leaving a light mark near his heart that made him sigh. He was sure that mark was deeper than it looks as his heart beat faster the closer you get to his dick. You kissed his belly before kissing down his clothed length making him groan deeply.

“Baby, stop teasing before I make you stop.” He was testing the waters, grinning when he saw you sit up immediately, biting your lip before pulling his boxers down to his thighs, following his orders. He hissed as you kissed his throbbing head, before immediately taking him in your mouth. It felt unbelievably good, your soft tongue lapping at his length as your cheeks hollow. He couldn’t take his eyes off you and almost lost it when you looked straight in his eyes, taking him as deep as you can. You moaned around him and the sensation made heat travel through his body. His hand found purchase in your hair as you bobbed on him, making him grunt loudly, losing his senses as he guided your head at a pace of his liking.

“Stop Y/N… stop… I’m gonna cum…” He moaned as he pulled your hair, a little too aggressively, making you whine around him. You released him with a loud pop.

“Cum in my mouth, baby” you were smirking at him as if you knew the effect you were having on him. Of course you knew, it was obvious by how loud he was breathing. His cock twitched in your hand at your comment, and he decided to let you have your fun, mentally noting to make you beg for him next time.

“Oh fuck… You’re so good to me baby” he panted as you once again started sucking him off. You were more enthusiastic this time, the sounds of your mouth ricocheting off the walls as you sucked him while your hand played with his balls, cupping them, making him see stars. He couldn’t take it anymore and with a loud grunt, he announced his end and felt his balls draining into your mouth. He watched from under his arm that rested on top of his face as you swallowed him, licking the remains off him as if he was the best popsicle you’ve tasted. It made him lose his mind, the sight making him moan softly.

You made your way back to him and as you laid on the pillows with a satisfied grin, he kissed you slowly, making sure you could feel his gratitude for what may have been the best blowjob he’s experienced.

“Sorry if I pulled your hair too hard.” He apologized as he stroked your head gently, one hand cupping your face.

“Don’t worry about it. I like it rough.” Although he had literally just cum, he felt the blood rush downwards again at your words.

“Fuck… You’re gonna kill me, you know?” He said as he kissed you again, fiercely, his hands ripping your panties off, relishing your gasp. He was determined to make you cum.

And he did, twice, once in bed and once in the shower.

As you were getting dressed in front of the mirror in your closet, he heard you gasp.

“Oh my god Joon! What the fuck?” Worriedly, he entered the closet, his jeans half undone and looked at you dressed in your pants and bra staring at yourself.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, as he moved closer to you.

“You animal! There’s like no concealer in the world to cover these!” You frowned, your mouth turning into a cute pout as you poke the hickeys that litter your neck and chest. He couldn’t help but smile at his handiwork as he hugged your waist from behind placing his head on your shoulder and kissing the mark on your neck.

“I’m sorry baby” His face however has no trace of apology as he grinned against your skin, feeling the blush that started at your neck.

“Fuck… I hate turtlenecks” you turned around in his arms, your hands going around his neck as you pouted at him exaggeratedly, and he wanted to go for another round. The power you had over him was overwhelming.

“I bet you look really good in a turtleneck.” He captured your lips in a soft kiss, smiling against your lips. He knew both of you had to get back to the real world soon but he just wanted to hole up in your room all day, all week, all year, just ravishing you.

You were interrupted by your phone ringing as you answered it on a speaker that rings through somewhere in your closet. He really has to ask you how many speakers you have in this place sometime.

“Hi, this is Y/N.” You spoke, your voice cold and formal and he was kind of taken aback by the change of your tone as you pushed his lips off your shoulder gently, still encircled in each other’s arms.

“Y/N! Are you okay? It’s 7:25… You’re never late!” He heard a familiar voice through the speaker although he couldn’t quite place it.

“Sorry Siwon! I’m feeling a bit unwell. I’m going to work from home this morning. I’ll come by around lunch for the meeting with Jiyoung though!” He brightened up at that comment, his grip around your waist tightening at the prospect of more time with you.

“Sick? Sure, sure… Tell Namjoon I said hi!” He watched your jaw drop as you awkwardly started coughing involuntarily. He kneould he shouldn’t but he can’t help tease you as a “Hey, man” escaped his lips, making you swat at him, signalling him to shut up.

“Oh shit. Am I on speaker?” Siwon audibly gasped into the phone and Namjoon burst out laughing, enjoying your reaction as you quickly bid goodbye.

“Okay, no coffee for you!” You huffed as you put on a t-shirt and make your way to the kitchen.

“Aww… babe!” Namjoon whined as he followed you, tugging his own shirt on to find you pouring steaming coffee into your mug. “Wait how did you make that so quick?”

He watched you smirk as you sipped on your coffee, making a show of how delicious it was, before you relented and pour him one.

“Magic.” You said smugly and he made a mental note to get you to teach him your tricks for his own house.

After breakfast, you spent the morning snuggling on the couch and reading the news, the easy domesticity of the moment not lost on Namjoon. Usually he wouldn’t even stay the night, but it seems like you made him break all the rules without even trying. He wondered why that was, why he was so drawn to you in such a short time. No one he had been with in the past made him feel this way, at least not only a week into knowing them.

“What are you thinking about?” you broke him out of his reverie. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring across the room. He didn’t know how much time had passed.

“This…” He gestured between the two of you, watching your eyes follow his hand from where your head rested against his chest.

“What? You’ve never read the news before?” You pointed at the iPad that the two you were meant to be reading from.

“You know what I mean…” He trailed off rubbing his neck, unsure why he even began the conversation. He should’ve just lied and said something funny.

“Sorry… I tend to use humour when I’m uncomfortable...” You got up from where you were leaning against him to sit upright on the couch, gaze averted.

“You’re uncomfortable?” His eyes widened as he tried to figure out why. Sure this all seemed to move way too fast, but you seemed to have found a rhythm with him this morning. He was slightly panicked that he had misread that. The thought that being around him made you uncomfortable made his heart drop to his knees.

“No… and that makes me uncomfortable” He watched you as you fiddled with the rips in your jeans. Your answer made him relax, pushing aside some of his worries. Knowing that he wasn’t the only one feeling lost with this new found comfort was oddly calming.

“I know what you mean. This seems… too easy, right?” He reached over to stop your fidgeting hands.

“Yeah… but I’m no expert. My last relationship was like three years ago” You shrugged.

“What happened? I mean… if you want to tell me”

“Yeah… it just didn’t work out. I was too busy for him sometimes and he couldn’t understand. He blamed me for not prioritizing our relationship. I was just starting out though… it was… hard” Your smiled at him sheepishly, a little melancholy behind your eyes, that made him want to hug it away.

“I get that. I had a lot of relationships that ended up the same way.” He thought about all his past partners, all the fights that led to nowhere because he couldn’t find time in his schedule to even resolve them. All the times he would receive an angry text and not be able to respond till hours later which only exacerbated the problems. All his exes that told him he was too self-centered, too narcissistic for focusing on his career, and for a long time he believed them, the guilt kept him up nights on end.

“Koren dating is also harder than Canadian dating,” you joked. He could sense you were trying to lighten the mood again, and he intertwined your fingers where they rested on your knee, before playing along.

“Wow… did you just stereotype my entire country?”

“Oops?” You chuckled lightly, your eyes brightening as you shrugged. “What about your last relationship?”

“It was about a year ago. We worked together, but we didn’t work together. There wasn’t really a reason. It just kind of… fizzled out. Although I think I was to blame.” He didn’t know how you’d react to this and he rubbed his neck nervously.

“Why do you say that?” You leaned closer, and he could surprisingly feel his nerves melting away at your proximity.

“I just would forget to keep her updated on my life. I know it sounds terrible.”

“Nah. It just sounds human. You weren’t in love.” His eyes widened at your response. He knew now that what he felt then wasn’t love but in the moment he had thought she was the one. Well, until she wasn’t.

“I thought I was” He admitted with a shrug.

“I don’t think you’d forget her if you were.” You were looking at him now, smiling slightly, your eyes shining as your thumb rubbed soothing circles on his. Somehow again, you had managed to sound poetic without meaning to - he didn’t know how you managed to do that so easily.

“I guess you’re right. Fuck… this is weird.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not usually this honest.”

“Wow. Must be the veritaserum I slipped in your drink.” You laughed as you reached to gently put your hand on his shoulder. He enjoyed the touch, it somehow made him feel safe. Safe to share his secrets.

“Is that a Harry Potter reference, you dork?” He could feel the mood lightening again and he realized that your ability to seamlessly switch from uncomfortable topics to humour was at least a part of the reason he felt so comfortable in your presence.

“I’m glad you trust me enough to be honest.” Your hand moved from his shoulder to rest against his cheek, and he couldn’t help but lean into it.

“Honestly, I think it’s because of you.” He watched your face turn to confusion, so he continued. ”You being so upfront makes me wanna do the same. Why are you so honest with me?”

“Because there’s no reason for us to continue this if we can’t be honest.” You smiled softly as you shrugged lightly, still stroking his cheek, and he felt his heart fill with warmth. “I’ve spent too much of my life pretending to be someone else for people to like me. So I’m testing my theory. If I’m honest with you and you like me, maybe this thing is worth it.”

“I do like you.” He really did. He hadn’t felt this strong a connection in a while. Someone who understood him without pretending to, or trying to appease him. Someone he could talk about the good and bad without judgement.

“You haven’t seen all the warts yet.” You averted your gaze, and he couldn’t help but cup your face and make you look at him.

“I’ve seen you naked, you don’t have any warts.” He tried your approach at humour as he kissed you on the nose.

“You are so cheesy!” You swat at him gently before kissing him lightly on the lips. He felt his heart skip a beat at the small gesture. “But seriously, thank you for being so open with me.” You looked at him adoringly, and he mirrored you.

He kissed you at that. Both of you enjoying the chaste kiss without deepening it. The conversation helped you both feel less uncomfortable with the comfortable.

His phone rang, interrupting the sweet moment, his manager asking where to send the car so he wouldn’t be late for the meeting that morning. Before leaving, you made plans to meet up again that weekend, and Namjoon felt that three days was too long without seeing you. He didn’t know why, but he hadn’t even left your apartment yet and he already missed you.

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

When you reached the restaurant for lunch with Jiyoung that afternoon, you still had a smile on your face. It seemed to have been permanently etched on your face since Namjoon left. You thought about your date and how it seemed to have been a thousand dates rolled into one. It felt like you’ve known him forever, and barring from Jiyoung, you hadn’t felt that way about a person before. Someone you connected with instantly, someone whose presence made you immediately calmer. He seemed to have crashed all the walls around you in a very short time and although that thought should scare you, it instead made you excited.

Spotting Jiyoung at a table you made your way across the restaurant to her, greeting her and the server, an old woman in her 60s, most likely the owner, that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. After ordering your entrees, your best friend and PR manager jumped right into business.

“So you’re famous. Congrats!” She did a little dance as she announced the news.

“What?” You were confused. Last you checked you had 2000 followers on your social media, which was run by Jiyoung and Siwon, on account of you being a “boomer” - their words, not yours.

“After the gala, a couple of magazines, courtesy of me, decided to do a piece on you. So congrats on your 200k followers!” She seemed giddy, excitedly jumping up and down as she clapped along. That was quite a follower growth and it led to her going into a twenty minute strategy talk on how to leverage your personal brand for the company. You were glad that she was excited, but if you were being honest you hated the limelight. The idea that someone’s “fame” could be decided by the number of likes of a photo posing at a restaurant made your skin crawl.

“Okay so we’re going to schedule a photoshoot sometime in the next two weeks and take a few photos for the next few months of uploads. Of course, make sure to take photos every time you go somewhere fun too, like I don’t know, one of your concerts you’re obsessed with or art galleries.” Jiyoung continued regardless of your groans.

“Do I have to?” You truly did not have time for this, your schedule is already overflowing. The whole idea of curating a feed made you feel stressed.

“Yes. It’s the game, Y/N. You have to play it” She replied sagely, as she slurped her noodles.

“You know all the photos will be of me holed up at the office. I’m not that interesting...” You played with your food as you pouted. Your comment wasn’t born out of low self-esteem, it’s just what you believed. Regardless of the media perceptions of the glamorous life of a CEO, you knew that at the end of the day most you did was sleep, attend meetings, and drink copious amounts of coffee. Occasionally you dabbled in your hobbies, but with the company and non-profit growing at the speed they were, there was barely any time for that. You doubted you’d be able to enjoy any of the fun till after quite a few more years when the title will become less heavy and you’d have more help.

“Don’t be stupid! You, my friend, are a young, fun, single woman! The world deserves to be envious of it!” Jiyoung dismissed you easily, shaking her hand at your protests. “Speaking of fun, let’s go clubbing Saturday, it’s been too long since you got laid.”

As soon as she finished her sentence you felt heat rise up your face, unconsciously bringing your hand up to your turtleneck covered neck. To make matters worse, your throat also decided now to work at that moment, making you choke on your rice.

“Oh my god! You minx! You got laid didn’t you?” Jiyoung loudly exclaimed, much to your dismay and of the other patrons who seemed peeved at hearing your bedroom adventures while they ate lunch.

“Please stop…” You looked around awkwardly apologizing to the old man next to you who looked at you with disgust. Great!

“Who was it? Where did you meet? Tinder? Did you go to a club without me? Was it a client?” The questions were endless.

“If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone, not a soul.” You were going to regret this, you knew it, but you’d be lying if it didn’t excite you to share the news with Jiyoung. She was your favourite female friend and even though on the outside, your friendship may seem mismatched to some, she truly understood you better than most people. She had been there when your last relationship ended, coaxing you back to your feet after weeks of self-destruction. You trusted her.

“Did you sleep with a married man?” She whispered, thankfully finally aware that you two were in the middle of a popular restaurant during peak lunch hours.

“Umm… no. Do you remember Namjoon from the party?” Namjoon from the party? Good job, real subtle Y/N.

“Namjoon?” You watched as realization dawned on her face, her face going from being scrunched in confusion, to wide eyed surprise, to what it is now; a smug smile. “I was wondering why your Spotify showed you suddenly listening to BTS…”

“Okay you can’t make fun of that too!” you whined, your morning faux pas still too fresh in your mind, as you buried your face in your hands.

“He made fun of you?” Jiyoung was cackling, before she started digging for details. “Man after my own soul! So was he good? When are you seeing him again? Are you dating him? Oh my god this is so exciting!” She is fully squealing and slapping your arm, making you wince.

“He was… amazing” you tell her your face flaring at the memories of last night. “And we’re going on another date.”

“Ooo date number two!”

“Well… technically four if you count the party?”

“Okay. What the fuck? You’ve been holding out on me! Spill!”

And so you do, sharing your interactions with Namjoon over the past week. It felt nice to reminisce about them, even though it was not that long ago. You were so into him, it was worrying. You were beyond excited to see him again, but your last conversation still weighed in your head. He was right. It just felt too easy, how you had met, and seemingly couldn’t get enough of each other. You were suspicious.

“Stop overthinking this, Y/N. It’s good that things are easy! You deserve easy!” Jiyoung cut through your rant. You had almost forgotten that you were speaking out loud.

“It’s not just me, he feels the same way.” You pouted, trying to defend your stance.

“Then you both belong together with your stupid ass overthinking.”

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

Y/N: Thanks for dinner tonight. I had a really good time.

Namjoon: Me too!

Namjoon: Speaking of, when can I see you again?

Y/N: Wow. We’ve barely digested our food, Joon

Namjoon: You’re mean! I just like hanging out with you

Y/N: I’m kidding! Tuesday?

Namjoon: Suddenly I love Tuesdays

Y/N: Shut up you dork!

Namjoon: Says the girl obsessed with Batman

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

Y/N: What the hell! How do you do photoshoots all the time. This is CRINGE.

Namjoon: Is that today? Yes! SEND ME THE PICTURES!!!!

Y/N: Fuck no. These are so awkward!

Namjoon: Come on! Send! I bet you look hot ;)

Y/N: Nope. Never. Never. NEVER.

Namjoon: I’ll just text Jiyoung for them

Y/N: You don’t even have her number

Y/N: Do you?

Y/N: KIM NAMJOON ANSWER ME

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

Namjoon: Did I leave my phone at your place last night?

Y/N: I don't think so

Namjoon: I can’t believe I lost my phone again!!!

Y/N: Wait how are you texting me right now?

Namjoon: … nvm

Y/N: Omg. You're an idiot.

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

Y/N: Okay that hike was harder than you said it’d be!

Y/N: I’m dying :(

Namjoon: Aw baby. I’m sorry!

Y/N: You owe me. You’re paying for my masseuse

Namjoon: Why pay for one when I’m better than any you’ll ever get?

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

Y/N: I miss you :(

Namjoon: I miss you too

Y/N: Come over?

Namjoon: I have to wake up at 6 for a shoot :(

Y/N: I wake up at 6 every day

Namjoon: On my way

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

Namjoon: How’s work going?

Y/N: Terrible :) I hate my life :)

Namjoon: You’re scary when you send emojis like that

Y/N: Wow. Thank you. You’re so nice to me.

Namjoon: Sorry!

Namjoon: What’s stressing you?

Y/N: Just deadlines… SO MANY DEADLINES

Namjoon: Aw baby. Have you eaten? I can come by with food

Y/N: Aren’t you busy? You have your comeback in a few months

Namjoon: Nah. I got the rest of the day off

Y/N: That’s… suspicious... Why?

Namjoon: I’m at the hospital

Y/N: WTF. I’m calling. Pick up.

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You checked yourself out in the reflective elevator doors, as you helped Harry adjust his tie, while Siwon rattled on about the restaurant you were headed to. Harry and you had been dodging your “celebratory” drinks with Mr Li for over a month and a half since the meeting where he signed the contract. He finally trapped you both during a networking event last week and had you set the date. To say you were both very much not looking forward to this evening would be an understatement. It took every ounce of willpower in you to stay as you made your way to your private table at the high end Japanese restaurant.

Mr Li, as per usual, was late to the dinner he had forced upon you. Sitting next to Harry, you both tried to devise a plan to escape as soon as possible. As soon as dinner ended, Harry was going to pretend that Jen was ill and since he was your ride back, you both had no choice but to “begrudgingly” end the night. The idea was foolproof, or so the both of you thought.

Here is a list of reasons why it was not foolproof.

One, upon arrival, Mr Li ordered shots for the table and after Harry used the excuse that he was driving you both home (you wanted to set it up so it wouldn’t be a surprise as you left), Mr Li got excited that you would be his new drinking buddy. He poured shot after shot, even after you mentioned that you were going to get a drink - hoping to rely on your ice tea in a whiskey glass trick - he refused to let you not drink anything other than shots of sake. Usually, you wouldn’t let someone dictate your drinking but you didn’t want to seem rude, and so you played along till you felt much too tipsy.

Two, Mr Li requested your server to stagger the dinner courses since it was a “night of partying” and as the third course of sashimi was served, he took the liberty of sitting next to you because apparently your fish looked fresher. He then proceeded to steal from your plate while making uncomfortable eye contact with you and putting his gross hands on your thigh. When you removed his hand from your thigh he had the audacity to suggest that you were playing hard to get. The urge to vomit had never been stronger.

Three, and this is where everything falls apart. When at the end of dinner, the lovely Jen calls to bail you and Harry out, Mr Li insists that Harry drives back alone and that he drives you home. Somehow, you both had not thought of this very basic flaw in your plan. With you running out of excuses, it was soon evident that you had no choice but to stay. You knew Harry, and you knew that he would call no less than ten minutes later with an emergency on your own or get Siwon out of bed to run to you. He would rescue you, you had faith. In the meantime you had to endure a drunk Mr Li trying to hit on you.

Time seemed to move slow as he drunkenly asked you if you had a boyfriend. Knowing his misogynistic self, you should’ve lied and said yes, the only thing he would probably understand would be that another man had a claim on you, but your tipsy self thought honesty was the best policy. As soon as you said no, it seemed that he took it as an invite, pulling you into an awkward hug, grabbing at your ass, trying to lift you to his seat. His movements were so swift that it left you momentarily paralyzed. You felt ice in your veins as the intense feeling of your personal space being so blatantly violated took over you. It felt as if a million ants were crawling under your skin, your stomach turning. You tried to get out of his grip but it was too strong, as he continued to massage your behind. You felt trapped, your mouth running dry, as anger took over. You were done being polite.

With a strong shove, you stood up from your seat and grabbed your jacket as you looked at him straight in the eye, hoping your glare was enough to get the message across. It was not.

“Come on Y/N. I signed such a big contract for you the least you could do is suck me off.” He stared at you sleazily, the liver spot above his eyebrow moving up and down as he wagged them.

“I’m sorry Mr Li, but this is very inappropriate. I’m going to leave.” You were nicer than your instincts were telling you to be. If he wasn’t your client, you would have already kicked him in the balls or better yet broken his nose, although knowing this creep, he’d probably have a kink for it.

“You’re a fucking bitch you know that?” He spat, his words filled with venom.

“Excuse me?” Each moment that you stayed in this room, made you angrier, the rage pumping itself through you, ringing in your ears.

“You think you’re successful because you’re smart? Don’t kid yourself, Y/N. Everyone knows that your clients only sign because they think you’ll fuck them.” He scoffed.

You knew if you stayed there longer, you would surely ruin this contract for your company, if not get sued for punching his ugly little face in so you grabbed your phone and bag and made your way out of the restaurant, tossing a curt goodbye his way.

Your vision was dark as you made your way through the streets. You were so enraged you were shaking. You knew what would fix this. Cigarettes. Without a second thought you made your way into the nearest convenience store, grabbing a bottle of soju and a pack, before walking to your favourite place - the rooftop of your office building.

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You sat at the roof, contemplating the earlier events, the cigarette pack in hand. You hated how you felt in this moment. Powerless. There was no other word for it. You hated feeling small and insignificant. You had built your life up in a way that ensured you wouldn’t have to deal with these feelings but here you were at almost midnight, searching the faint stars in the sky for serenity.

Anger coursed through your veins as you tried to steel yourself, fists clenching hard enough for red semicircles to be engraved on your palms. Sometimes you hated being a woman. What gave anyone the right to dismiss your hard work and accomplishments because they valued your tits more. You were coursing with negativity, your mouth tasting of poison, as you chugged the soju. You still felt his slimy hands on your ass and his words echoed through your mind. If only your deal was not at stake you would’ve kicked him so hard in the balls, he’d never be able to reproduce. The world is much too beautiful to have his offsprings tainting it.

You usually don’t let these things affect you as much. It’d be a lie to say these moments were few and far in between. In fact, they took place more often than you’d like to remember. The amount of men who had dismissed you or called you being a CEO a great “marketing move in today’s PC world” was astronomical. You would usually brush them off and pretend they never happened, never letting it affect you, but something about the way he sneered made you so vulnerable that for a minute you let your guard down and believed him.

“You think you’re successful because you’re smart? Don’t kid yourself, Y/N. Everyone knows that your clients only sign because they think you’ll fuck them.” You snapped a cigarette in half, watching the contents sprinkle out of the white casing as you rolled it in your fingers and coaxed a bigger mess. You tossed it across the floor, watching the wind pick up the light scraps and scatter them around like confetti. What a great celebration, you thought as you rolled your eyes.

“Y/N…?” you heard Namjoon call from behind you.

You regretted messaging him after your dinner. You didn’t even know why you had told him. He was not your boyfriend, technically he wasn’t even your friend. You had only gone on a few dates, and although you felt closer to him than you had anybody you had dated in a long while, you were not ready for him to see you this way. It had barely been over a month and a half. You didn’t feel confident enough to face him. The Y/N he knew was the successful, flirty, witty version you had worked hard to portray. You don’t know how he would react to this self-hating mess of you. Maybe he’d run away. You deserved that much. Hell, maybe he didn’t even buy the version you showed him, only here for the tits. You were bitter.

“I’m sorry you came all this way. I’m fine, you can go home.” You couldn’t face him - not in this state. You stared at your hands, deepening the crescents on your palm as if willing the skin to break. You saw his shoes in front of you, unlaced blue Nikes, attached to blue striped pajama pants with cartoon koalas. Had you forced him to get out of bed? You felt a bubble of guilt rise within your chest. You were such a shitty person to bring him into this. He deserved better than to be on a cold rooftop on a Friday night in the middle of his comeback preparations.

You were ready to ask him leave again as you heard him settle next to you. You looked up at his face, his eyes softened with concern behind his wide rimmed glasses as he sat crossed leg, his hands in his lap. You opened the pack to grab another cigarette, snapping it in half again and tossing it half heartedly across the floor. You felt defeated, the emotional exhaustion of the night weighing on your shoulders.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly, his voice almost a whisper.

“I don’t know,” you said, matching his volume. There was no one here and it’s not like anyone could hear you off of this fifty storey building, but somehow you only had the strength to whisper.

“Take your time” he answered. He looked like he meant it. He sat there looking at you, giving you space. His phone buzzed a few times and he ignored it. Instead, he just patiently looked at you, his face neutral for what felt like hours.

Somehow his patience gave you courage to open up, and you told him the events of the night. He never interrupted, or even moved. The only way you’d know he was not suddenly a statue was by the way his jaw slowly tensed as you got to the reason you were so upset, all your doubts and insecurities filling the air in a tumble of fast spoken words.

“I don’t even know why this is making me so angry. It is not like this is the first time this has happened to me.” You chuckled dryly as you looked up at him. He looked angry and you felt nervous. Perhaps you shared too much. You wouldn’t blame him for getting angry at how stupid your reason was for getting him out of bed.

“What’s his name?” he asked, his eyes narrowed. You were surprised at his question. This was the first time he spoke since you started talking about twenty minutes ago.

“Why?”

“I’m going to kill him.” He said flatly, eye ablaze and jaw set.

“Joon…” you trailed, unsure what to say. He wasn’t unjustified in his threat. On your way to the roof, you yourself had devised about a thousand ways to get away with murder.

“No. He’s an asshole and I’m going to kill him for making you feel this way.” He looked less angry now, and more upset, sighing as he looked at you. You chuckled humorlessly. His comment made you feel better, made you feel less alone and stupid for wanting to take your anger out at the perpetuator. At least you’d have someone to carry the body with if you decided to act on your homicidal fantasies.

“Can I give you a hug?” He asked tentatively, his hand reached towards you as he turned looking at you closely. as if worried you might snap at him.

“Joon, you don’t have to ask,” you murmured as you scooted closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He reacted immediately, pulling you into him tightly, his chin over your head. Your face was pressed against his chest and you inhaled his woodsy scent, feeling instantly more calm.

“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. A man touched you without your permission and I didn’t know how you felt about being close to another today.” He whispered against your hair, kissing the top of your head. Your heart instantly warmed, tears pricking your eyes. No one had ever been this considerate to you before, so respectful. The fact that he thought you might feel uncomfortable around him just because of that asshole made your heart break. You pushed out of the hug and cupped his face.

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to that asshole.” You were angry that not only did that sorry excuse for a man made you feel small, he made Namjoon feel like you wouldn’t want him.

“And don’t you dare feel like you’re not worthy because of that asshole.” He kissed your forehead gently before bringing you into another bone-crushing hug, momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs. His words made you feel warm, and brought a lump to your throat. It felt oddly cathartic to have the man you had come to admire tell you you were enough. You felt the tears you had been holding in all night escape slowly. You held him tighter as his t-shirt became your makeshift tissue, silently crying for what felt like hours while he stroked your hair gently.

When you could talk again without your voice breaking, you broke the embrace. His shirt was stained with your tears and mascara, and suddenly you felt very awkward for your blatant display of emotions.

“I’m sorry I called you here so late,” you apologized sheepishly, realizing how late it was and how silly you felt for making him jump out of bed.

“Please don’t apologize. I’m glad you called me.” He wiped your face of the tears that had failed to be absorbed by the t-shirt, smiling slightly as he leaned in to give you another peck on your forehead.

“You’re in your pajamas,” you pointed out, laughing slightly, wanting to remove some of the awkwardness you felt at having bawled in front of him for so long.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting for too long.” He shrugged, giving you a smile that melted your heart. You had realized this before but it dawned on you again that to you Namjoon was comfort. He was like a warm blanket to cozy under in a cool room, keeping the monsters at bay.

You reached out and kissed him, slowly pulling him in by his shirt, avoiding his glasses as you tilted your head. The kiss was gentle - it was sweet and warm. Unlike the passionate ones you had shared before, ones that would light you on fire, this was comfortable, like a bonfire rather than a forest fire. His lips were chapped against yours and his tongue tasted like toothpaste as he smiled against your lips.

“You didn’t smoke!” He exclaimed when you separated, pulling you into another hug, his arms around your head. The pride in his voice made you laugh.

“I told you, I don’t smoke anymore,” you commented as you grinned against his chest.

“Then what’s the pack for?” He seemed puzzled.

“Oh… I was going to but I didn’t want to break my two year streak.” You shrugged. He beamed at you as he pulled you in for another kiss, taking his time to taste you. It felt like he was savouring you, his fingers tangled in your hair on the nape of your neck and his other hand placed gently on your waist.

When you came up for air he giggled, his forehead against yours. “I’m proud of you for not breaking your streak,” he said, making your cheeks flare at his sincerity. “Let’s get you home.”

“Do you want to walk instead of grabbing a cab?”

“Always.” He held your hand as you both stand up and make your way downstairs.

You noticed him shivering slightly as you exited the building and it finally dawned on you that he was dressed in just a t-shirt. It was not the middle of winter but it was certainly too chilly for not wearing a sweater. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in your chest as you were currently dressed in not one but two sweaters. Stopping him, you took off your oversized sweater and handed it to him.

“What are you doing?” He looked at you, confused as you pushed the sweater in his hands.

“You seem cold.”

“That’s supposed to be my move.” He laughed.

“Hey I’m wearing like two sweaters! Plus, I feel bad about dragging you out here and forcing you to walk.” You looked at your shoes, suddenly feeling shy.

“Don’t feel bad, baby.” He lifted your chin up to place a quick peck on your lips after looking around to make sure no one's walking by on the deserted street. “Also, I don’t think this will fit me.” He chuckled, pushing his frames further up his nose.

“It’s oversized! Just try it, you’re shivering!”

“I’m an oversized human!” He exclaimed but started to put his arms through the sleeves. The sweater looked hilariously small on his frame, even with only one sleeve on. As he zipped it up, it resembled a rashguard more than a sweater, his t-shirt flaring out from the bottom, the material straining against his arms and back. The stress of the night washed away as you doubled over in laughter, your face streaking with new joyous tears at the sight.

“See I told you it was too small!” He grinned sheepishly.

“This is amazing, you look great Joonie” you managed to wheeze out in between your laughter.

At that he took your hand and walked the ten blocks to your apartment. The night was filled with a comfortable silence broken only by little musings as you both took in the quiet surroundings of the financial district after hours. As you neared your street, Namjoon broke the silence once again.

“Why did you message me tonight?” His voice was contemplative, as his thumb grazed yours.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have” You earlier guilt was surfacing again, as you thought about why you told him what happened when usually the first person you’d tell in this situation would be Jiyoung or Harry.

“I told you - I’m glad you did. I was just curious why.”

“I… I don’t know. You’re the first person I wanted to see.” You sighed, getting uncomfortable with the line of questioning. You didn’t want him to ask why he was the first person you thought of because you weren’t ready to be even more vulnerable tonight, not ready to admit the space he had made in your heart over the last month. He was quiet for a few moments, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration as if he were solving a complex math problem, before he spoke.

“Do you remember when I sprained my wrist and had to go to the hospital a few weeks ago?” You didn’t expect this subject change, but gladly welcomed it.

“Yeah…”

“Well… you’re the first person I wanted to see then too. I mean before I knew it was just a sprain and I was panicking.” He squeezed your hand in his as you both exited the elevator on to your hallway, and looked at you, his gaze soft. “What do you think that means?”

“That we’re even?” You smiled, hoping to break this unknown tension that had come between you all of a sudden as you stopped at your door. You fumbled with your keycode, having to enter the password twice before making your way inside, Namjoon following behind you, as you both slipped out of your shoes and into slippers. Before you could leave the entryway, he gently held on your elbow to stop you, fixing you with another one of his soft gazes and a smile that made your heart flutter.

“I was thinking it means that you’re my girlfriend.” You could hear your heart rev up as you looked at him for any signs of teasing. There were none. Usually you would respond back with something along the lines of him never asking, but with the night you had just had all you could think about was how happy you were to finally call him yours. Without further hesitation you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him into a kiss, which after a little surprise, he returned. It was reminiscent of the first time you had kissed, but this time instead of awkward butterflies, your heart was filled with a comfortable glow. His lips were familiar against yours and his scent wrapped your senses in a warm cocoon.

“Mmm… Boyfriend.” you said against his lips, grinning, as he kissed you again, his hands under your thighs as he lifted you and carried you to bed, surprisingly avoiding bumping into the doorframe this time.

That night as you slept under the projected milky way on your ceiling with his breath tickling your ear as he snored lightly, you felt yourself give Namjoon a part of your heart you had hidden away for a very long time.

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#bts fanfic #rm x reader #rm smut #rm fluff #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #bts namjoon #namjoon x you #namjoon smut #bts fic #bts x reader #bts rm scenario #bts namjoon scenario #bts x y/n #bts smut #bangtan sonyeondan

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thermaboo · 4 years

Text

Yan!Todoroki x Reader

A/n: Finally putting part 2 up. Kinda sad to see it finished but it had to go up eventually lmao. I hoard my fics like I’m a dragon and it might be a problem but oh well! Just tagging my homies: @yanderart @sheerxradiance

Summary: The one night he breaks routine is the same night he breaks your trust.

Word Count: 3.2k

Read Part 1 First

Warning: Hard noncon, heavy angst, impregnation, slight somnophilia, yandere, big 18+

A tad startled, you loomed your way through your small hallway to see who could be threatening your tiny home. You cursed the irony of a break in as soon as Shoto left. You weren’t necessarily weak, but you would rather the actual pro-hero deal with this than just yourself and whatever item you have lying around your apartment.

You continued, armed with a small pocket knife and ready to at least swipe fast enough to buy you some time to escape. Whoever it is was quiet, almost making no sound except the initial creek of the door.

“It’s just me, please don’t be startled.” Shoto waved at you by the front door, he looked a little shocked himself to see you.

A sigh of relief flooded your body and you almost slapped him for scaring you so badly. “Shit man, you scared me. Did you leave something here?”

“No, it started raining. I thought I could make it to the train station before it got too bad but I got caught and turned around. I apologize if I woke you up.”

His hair was dripping, clothes were soaked, he looked slightly like an abandoned puppy. “You called me foolish for taking an umbrella everywhere,” You slapped his shoulder and it made a wet sound, earning a laugh from the both of you. “I’ll get you some clothes that might fit, don’t worry about being a bother and trying to rush out, I’m fine with you staying.”

He wants to protest but by the tone in your voice he could tell you were being sincere and genuinely didn't mind his presence. You told him he could stay plenty of times but he always turned you down, not wanting to allow himself to stay too long around you as of lately.

You found some clothes that didn't fit you but almost fit him, he always forgets his own size until he's staring at your clothing on him. It smells used, lovingly used, once an outfit now a lounge piece. It had small stains on it, tiny holes, history. He let the fabric hold him, trying to leech any memory it may hold of the days you used to wear them. The thoughts of your clothing became too intense and he felt a familiar strain in his lower abdomen and stopped, not wanting to feel that at the moment.

You knocked on the door cautiously, to which he opened it and looked at you. You smiled sheepishly at him and grabbed his wet clothes, immediately leaving to throw it into the dryer. He sat on the couch and watched you fumble with the dryer, you were so kind in every way. He never really needed to communicate to you what he needed, you always seemed to understand. You thought nothing of it and would shrug whenever he brought it up, but he saw it as evidence of your compassion.

Your face came back into view and some lights turned off, leaving just the faint light of a lamp and your figure standing with some blankets. He stared at you absentmindedly and took the blankets from your hand slightly confused before realizing the implication. You flashed a smile at him, before speaking “Goodnight Shoto, if you need anything you know where to find me.”

He thanked you for your help and promises again he’ll be gone before sunrise. He made himself comfortable on your couch, attempting to fall asleep to the sounds of your apartment. Listening to the sound of the dryer tumbling his clothes, the distant sound of cars, your fridge making ice, just listening. Despite the neighborhood you live in not being too friendly, you managed to make your space as peaceful as possible. That peace was subjective though, without you in it was as lonely as his bed at home, and he didn’t come back here to feel alone.

His body moved before his thoughts and he approached your door. He was used to your usual dynamic. You two have your movie night, you fall asleep half-way through, he has his opportunity with you, and you wake up like nothing happened. It always started with a thought, the need to be closer to you, but it would crumble away as his thoughts fogged and all he could do was touch you. He never wanted to stop touching you, your body wept a sincerity he wished he had. Until he walked away from your apartment feeling sick, every time.

Your door softly creaked open, he stood at the entrance for a moment to make sure you didn’t stir. You’re a hard sleeper, he knew that, but this was uncharted land for him. He doesn’t know how you sleep here. He’s thought about coming in one night and watching, but he always convinced himself it wasn’t worth it. Now standing in your room, he wonders why he ever denied himself this privilege.

He gently entered your bed, once again making sure to not wake you. Your bed was soft and smelt like your detergent and you. There was a tinge of sweat, he guessed that some nights you’d just go straight to bed, not bothering to shower until morning. He inched closer, feeling the warmth of your body radiate like a fire in the winter. You looked so comfortable, resting peacefully in the moment between yesterday and tomorrow. He hated it, how you were stuck in the day to day motions of work and home. He wanted you to be happy with him, you wanted it as well, you just didn’t know how to be honest with him.

His shaky hands slid down your pants for the second time tonight, aching to feel the only thing that racks his brain. Your skin always drove him up the wall, it prickled him with a feeling he couldn’t explain. His hand connected with your underwear, he traced the lines on the outside of it, trying to make a mental note for later. His hand slid through the side, connecting with your warm pussy. He leaves it there, and takes a moment to look at you. You were still asleep so adorably, you looked so innocent and lovely. He begins to tease your clit in the way he knows you respond to, changing patterns ever so slightly. Your breathing picked up, just as expected as he shifted to fingering you. He wishes it was his dick so badly but he needed to wait.

“Shoto . . . Shoto what are you”

He quickly rolled on top of you, pinning you to the bed.

“What were you doing.” You felt the slick of his hand as it held tight down on your wrist, your face was half startled and confused. He had to do something quickly, he had to say something, anything that would make this make sense for you. But it barely even made sense to him, he couldn’t understand his need to be in you at all.

“Were you . . . ” He says nothing, his grip on you tightening, not wanting to confess this at all to you. He felt the trust you had in him seap out, pooling the room in tension. You kicked upwards, startling him off you momentarily before he grabs you once again.

“Please don’t run, I’m not going to hurt you.” You continued to thrash against him, your elbows connecting with him constantly. You fought him, spewing words of fear. His grip on you was terrifyingly strong, but he wasn’t even trying. He felt his erection strain against you, and you definitely felt it as well. He stared down at your shriveled figure. “Do you hate me?”

You said nothing, just trembled underneath him. You looked so scared and confused and innocent. You still wanted to trust that this was just a misunderstanding, that he would never hurt you in any way. "Get off me, please."

"I thought you loved me y/n." He began to rock against you, feeling the friction of your underwear against his already hard dick. Your sobs were getting louder as you looked away from him. "Don't tell me you hate." He loves seeing you happy, but a sick part of him enjoyed your crying. You shoved up one more time and ran as fast as you could before being toppled to the ground in your living room. Your quiet sobbing now full of tears. You didn't bother screaming for help, you knew what your apartment was like. No one would help you even if you banged on their door. So you begged, you begged and begged underneath but he was lost in his own delusion.

He towered over you, yet he appeared so feeble. His strength and appearance never matched the vulnerability in his heart. You knew that, so why were you so scared. “I just want us to be together. I’m going to make you feel as happy as you make me.” His hand traced down your side, stirring your body back to life. You scrambled to move your arms, anything that would cover yourself.

“Please, I don’t want to do this.”

“I understand, but we can’t wait forever to be together.”

“Shoto this is ra — ” He covers your mouth, his eyes were glossy above you, he looked hurt.

“You want this. You need this. I would never hurt you like that. Don't say that."

You looked up at the man above you and you realized that he was worlds off from you. He genuinely believed this wasn't wrong. Pure dread filled your body as you realized there wasn't anything you could say to get him to stop. He was fine a few hours ago, how could this happen? This couldn’t be the hero you know, the friend you trusted with your life.

His hold on you softened as he wiped the tears from your face. That hurt look spread across his features. For a moment you saw guilt, guilt mixed with an agonizing need to be with you. He laid on top of you, heaving into the crook of your neck. "Don't hate me, please don't hate me."

He felt a hand on his back, it was yours. You were embracing him, after everything he's done you were still showing kindness. Even with his dick leaking precum against your leg, you couldn't resist helping him. Your love felt like something familiar that he lost years ago, a feeling that he wishes he could drown himself in. He could leave right now, he should leave, but it's already too late to pretend like he didn’t want this.

His hot breath against you was not helping your situation, neither was his kisses nor his compliments and certainly not his promises that he'll make you feel whole again. What did that mean? Were you even missing something to begin with? Your thoughts trailed back down to your almost naked body, and the man on top of you. You began regaining consciousness and you felt it, you felt him. His hands were feeling every part of you imaginable, squeezing wherever he could. You jumped at the feeling of his fingers inside of you, you heard the wet sound as he pulled back and you felt consumed with shame.

He was quick with it, ripping a scream straight through your body as he tried pushing through you. Your hands clawed at him but it felt like a mild annoyance against his skin. If a few scratches was the price he had to pay for this then he didn’t mind. It felt better than he imagined, this is all he ever wanted and he was getting it. He wishes he could have prepared you more, he knows he's big but he couldn't stop himself. With you all reason leaves his head and his actions are purely instinct. Every thrust heals some aspect of his damaged soul. Everyone was wrong about you, you were saving him, you were the fix he's needed his entire life.

He lifts off of you and continues pushing into you, one hand gripping down on your hip, the other on your clit. You tried locking your knees again but everything you did became null. He was so much stronger and faster than you. That always made you feel safe with him, but now he was using it against you.

Your scratching stopped, your yelling turned into quiet groans, your eyes nowhere in particular. You had officially gone limp. You tried to focus on anything else but the feeling of your best friends dick forcibly moving in you, but there was nowhere to run to in your head. You felt putrid, vile, tainted,and disgusted because it felt slightly good. You know it's an involuntary response but you wanted it to stop, you wanted it to hurt again so your hatred could feel justified. You needed him to just be brutal, but he was trying to get you off and that made the entire act feel even more revolting. Your world was spinning as you tried to fade away but the sensation wouldn’t let you leave, your entire body was failing you. You wish you could say you fought more, but your body was slack and glided easily against the floor with every thrust

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing worthy came out, just your drool and incoherent babbling as you attempted to say anything. You looked into his mismatched eyes with pain, your body and mind were not congruent and it was tearing you apart. Why is he doing this? Why isn't he stopping? Why does it feel good? Weren't you friends?

His speed was picking up and your silent tears followed, you felt an overwhelming pressure threaten you, your fingers dug into his arm as your hoarse voice attempted to try and stop him before you came. "Stop it, I can't."

"You can, I need you to." His pace was unfortunately perfect. "If it feels good why stop yourself." You closed your eyes as you convulsed from your orgasm, you didn't want to give him the pleasure of seeing you crumble. Your legs locked against him and you felt something inside of you go up in flames as he kept on fucking through you, clearing focusing on his own release now. If he was holding back before he wasn't now. "Shoto it hurts stop!"

He bores into you with his eyes, nothing but pure lust going through them. "You'll get used to it. It's almost over love."

You pushed against him meekly, barely able to produce a sob anymore, "pull out, pull out, please I can't get pregnant pull out.” Your attempts to move were heightened as you felt him twitch even more, but it was too late. Your insides felt warm and full, there was nothing that could be done about the mess pooling inside of you. He looked down at you, tired, clothes in disarray. You look so lifeless and shattered underneath him, the only sign that you were alive was the tears streaming down your face. He looked down at where you two connected in absolute awe and love, it felt beautiful. Better than his fantasies, better than anything he's ever confessed to anyone. He'd do his shitty life again if it meant he could have this moment forever.

The beauty came crashing down when he looked at your face again, you seemed like you were trying to will yourself into non-existence. He pulled out and rolled next to you, careful not to touch you. The two of you laid in a void of thoughts and failures, and the familiar guilt started to hurt again.

He saw your figure shuffle over, he raised up, ready to subdue you if you ran but you didn’t. You leaned against the couch for a few minutes before completely picking yourself up and dragging yourself to your room. He heard you fall in the hallway, struggling to keep yourself up. You could be calling the police, his evidence was all over the room and furthermore

still inside you. If the police came it would be over, but maybe it was better that way.

His eyes focused on some pictures on the wall of your dark living room, you’re smiling in all of them. You always look so happy, even on days when you were doing worse or at the bottom you managed to smile for him. His eyes locked on to a particular picture, it was the two of you on a particularly awful night. He remembers he had just gotten into an argument with his dad, he left entirely and resolved to just walking around. You were worried about him and caught up, you two had talked all night in a 24/7 diner, and all felt well. You asked to take a photo with him, because you thought the ice cream he had looked like him. It was an adorable photo, and he found himself laughing like it was yesterday despite it being years ago. How putrid of him to laugh at a memory he just tarnished.

He looked away, fading from the safety and warmth of the memory to the coldness that he produced. He never told you that the argument was about you, his family was worried that his obsession with you was going too far. Fuyumi found his collection of you, all your stray hair, underwear, and anything else he could nab off you. He could never forget the look his father gave him, something between fear and sympathy for his sick son. He racks his brain for memories of you that were painful, it’s what he deserved but he couldn’t find any. You were always nice to him and you forgave him even when he didn’t deserve it.

He keeled into himself in tears, he violated the one person he loved, the one person he trusted. He ruined your friendship, your life, his own life, everything. The reality of the situation crashed into him violently, you said no so many times and he just couldn’t stop. He wanted you to understand so bad. You cried when you came, you weren’t happy with what he did at all. He raped you. He’s worse than his father.

He got up and walked to your room, your phone was still in the same position as before. You had eventually made it to the bed and were laying there silently, still in your tattered clothes. Your eyes were open, but he knew you weren’t looking at anything. Your eyes shifted to look at him with whatever strength you had left. He got in the bed with you but you didn't move at all.

Maybe you did forgive him? He felt a bittersweet smile form on his face as you stared through him.

He touched you softly, “I’m going to take care of you. I made a mistake, but next time it won't be like this. Please give me a chance to show you that I can be your everything, because you’re my everything." There was nothing but your breathing in response. “I think you’ll make an amazing mother.”

You didn’t fight him, he didn’t force you to stay close to him, for once that night there was mutualism. You felt your exhaustion catch up to you, you were embraced in warmth but you felt the coldest you’ve ever been in your life. Maybe you deserved this for letting him into your little life. You closed your eyes, hoping that you’d wake up clean and absolved of the sin you entangled yourself with. You know he'll be there though, and you know you won't be able to hate him.

At least not yet.

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #yandere imagines #bnha x reader

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parkersharthook · 4 years

Text

Cheers (Drink To That)

Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers friendship (Bucky Barnes x female!reader)

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of past drugging, just guys being dudes

2.2k+ words

MODERN AU where Bucky and Steve play truth or drink (x)

“have any friend of yours said that I was dumb? Like in your life.”

Bucky said as he laughed softly, “So many of them.”

~.~

“Hi I’m Steve”

“And I’m Bucky, and we’re best friends. Basically brothers but not legally.”

“or biologically” Steve chimed in

[Welcome to Truth or Drink. Who’s going first?]

Steve sat up straighter and flexed slightly, “I’m better looking so I’ll go first.” Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes but let Steve continue anyways, “If someone offered you one million to never talk to me again would you take it?”

Bucky thumbed an empty shot glass as answered, “I mean I want to say no because you are my best friend but that is a lot of money”

Steve nodded and he set the piece of paper to the side, “you should take it, that’s a shit ton of money. That’s like your livelihood. Plus I could still talk to y/n so win-win.”

Bucky laughed and nodded, “then yeah I probably would take it.” He drew a card, “Have you ever had a crush on someone that I’ve been with?”

“Well yeah probably most of them.” Steve answered with ease causing Bucky to do a double take.

Bucky laughed as his eyes widened, “what?”

Steve nodded, “despite your tendency to date crazy girls, they have always been super attractive.”

“what about y/n?” Bucky questioned

“oh yeah”

Bucky’s mouth fell open incredulously, “are you kidding me? My fiancé?!”

Steve rolled his eyes, “duh, she’s hot. We actually went out on a date before I introduced you guys.”

“Oh she did tell me this.” Bucky relented

[Could we have come context please?]

Steve smiled to the camera, “I took his now fiancé, when I first met her, on a date and we both just thought we were better off as friends and then the two of them met and hit it off so yeah…”

Bucky worried his bottom lip, “but it wasn’t a serious date right?”

Steve shrugged, “well I mean it was a date. I took her to dinner and paid so yeah it was a date but it wasn’t like anything happened.”

“I mean you still kind of hit on y/n still…” Bucky said teasingly with only a slight undertone of salt.

Steve rolled his eyes again, “jokingly…”

Bucky straightened up, “okay whatever”

“Oh relax Buck you know I would never do anything to come between you guys. You guys are made for each other.” Bucky smiled at Steve as Steve took another card, “do you remember when I lost my virginity and how did you know?”

“remember it? Not to the exact instance. But I know you lost it in high school and told me after it happened… right?”

Steve nodded, “yeah that sounds about right.”

Bucky drew the next one, “is there something that happened between us that we should talk about now?

Steve fiddled with his fingers, “umm…. not that I now of? I feel like we’re pretty open and honest with each other.”

Bucky agreed, “yeah I think if anything came up we would’ve dealt with it at the time”

“yeah probably. I mean, unless there is something you would like to tell me.” Bucky shook his head with a short laugh. Steve continued to a new card, “Who is the smarter friend?”

Bucky’s smile widened, “Are we talking street smarts or book smarts. Because honestly me in both categories probably?

Steve scoffed, “Oh come on, not at all. Just because you’re a space nerd doesn’t mean you’re smarter than me”

Bucky threw his hands up, “I’m a fucking lawyer bro.”

“so? I’ve won any and all fights we’ve been in. Both physical and verbal.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “any verbal fights we’ve had that you’ve won are only because I let you won. Plus you win any physical fights only because you’re big not because you know how to throw a punch.” Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky as he held his hands up in defense, “I’m not calling you dumb I’m just saying that I’ve made smarter decisions in most aspects of our life.”

“fine whatever” Steve exaggerated, throwing the card to the side.

Bucky laughed, “no need to be salty.” Another card drawn. “Name my favorite sex position.”

Steve shrugged, “I don’t know man… probably whatever y/n likes best.”

Bucky rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, “okay but like imagine outside of y/n—"

“hard to do.” Steve interrupted.

Bucky laughed, “yeah that’s kinda hard to separate us but try. What’s my favorite sex position?”

Steve sighed, “I don’t know man probably doggy. You’ve always liked a good ass.”

Bucky laughed, “who doesn’t though. But yeah, you’re right.”

Steve pulled the next card, “I dare you to call my ex and tell her how you really feel.”

Bucky shook his head immediately, “no.”

Steve snickered, “why not?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve, “because your exes are crazy and most of them know where I live because I haven’t moved in a while so absolutely not.”

Another large laugh came from Steve, “fine whatever. Pussy. Take a drink if you’re not gonna call them.”

Bucky held his hands up, “I’m thinking of my future.” He poured himself a shot and knocked it back easily before reaching for another card, “How many sexual partners have you had? Be honest.”

Steve mentally counted for a moment, “15…? I honestly don’t know man. Do you think if y/n knew your number she’d be mad”

Bucky shook his head, “she knows my number. Dude we literally tell each other everything, I don’t think there’s something out there that she doesn’t know already.”

“that’s kinda cute actually.” Steve reached for a new card, “what’s the worst fight we ever had?”

Bucky knew instantly. “The one sophomore year of college right around spring break. That was really bad.”

Steve grimaced and nodded, “oh yeah that definitely was our worst one.”

[can you tell us what happened?]

Bucky leveled his head for a moment, “I’m not actually sure if we can… it involves a lot of other people. But it ended with us like beating the shit out of each other so it definitely took a turn for the worst.”

“that’s an understatement.” Steve mumbled as he pulled another one, “which one of us is the most successful? Oh wait I think it was your turn to ask the question.”

Bucky shrugged, “it doesn’t matter.” He thought for a moment, “I think we’re pretty even. I definitely got more success like earlier on in life but at our stage right now… we’re pretty damn even.”

“I mean you make more money.” Steve countered lightly.

Bucky nodded slightly and ran a finger over his lip in thought, “yeah… but we both have a stable job, a good relationship, we’re happy with what we do and where we are in life. We’re doing good for ourselves man. Go us.”

Steve laughed and held his hand up for a high five, “hell yeah we are.” Bucky reached across the table and smacked his hand. The two laughed as Bucky pulled a new card

“Share the most mortifying memory you have of me.” Bucky said with a grimace.

Steve sighed, “I’ll answer this but I haven’t had anything to drink man. Let’s take 2 shots.”

Bucky laughed, “I am so unbelievably down.” The two knocked back four shots of alcohol before Steve went back to the question.

“I mean you once stumbled into our dorm room at maybe… 5 am still ‘drunk’ and you were only wearing your boxers and a pair of crocs that weren’t yours. And I was trying to get you into bed and you literally passed out and I was so scared I didn’t know what to do.”

Bucky winced, “was that the night I was accidentally drugged?”

Steve nodded solemnly, “yeah…”

[seriously?]

Bucky nodded, “this guy at a party tried to drug a girl’s drink but I ended up accidentally taking her drink instead of my own so I got drugged. I made it back to our dorms -- thank god -- and then Steve had to deal with that.”

Steve sighed, “yeah that was terrifying. I called the RA explaining what happened and he got mad as us because he just assumed Bucky was shitfaced. And then like thirty minutes after he passed out, he woke up but was still acting like he was drunk. So our other roommate and I ended up having to take you to the hospital. I feel like I just knew something was wrong.”

“I feel like I’ve said thank you for that but… thanks man.” Steve nodded. Bucky continued, “Honestly, I’m just happy it didn’t happen to the girl. Because like even though it was scary, I ended up okay and I don’t want to know what the other possible outcome of that night was…”

Steve shivered, “anyways… moving on. Finish this line with me, I’m most scared of…”

Bucky smiled, “mind control.”

[what?]

Bucky laughed, “oh yeah this tall and muscly dude over here is scared of mind control.”

Steve shuddered, “that shit freaks me out. Like all that stuff in movies… bleh. Imagine like having no control over your actions and just doing what other people tell you to do. That sounds horrible.”

Bucky sniggered, “you know that isn’t real, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “technically yes but we also have no idea that something like that isn’t out in the world right now. I’ve heard of plenty of things like brainwashing and stuff.

Bucky shook his head, “not quite mind control but whatever. Next question: have you ever disliked someone I dated?”

Steve pulled his lips between his teeth for a moment, “I’m gonna take a shot.”

Bucky laughed, “I mean I know who you didn’t like. No one liked her.”

“I’m gonna take a shot” Steve repeated.

Bucky’s eyes widened, “was it not just Dot? were there more girls you didn’t like?”

Steve shrugged, “I’m just gonna take a shot.” He knocked back the drink eaisly

Bucky shook his head with a slight annoyance, “dick.”

Steve wiped his mouth, “I mean in comparison to y/n they’re all trash and I hate all of them.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I mean me too but that wasn’t the question!”

Steve raised his hands in defense, gesturing towards the empty shot glass. “hey, I took the shot!” He quickly grabbed a new card to further the game along, “If you had to eat one part of my body, what would it be?”

Bucky sighed, really confused and slightly disturbed by this question. “I don’t know…?” He drawled. “Like a finger or toe? Nothing too big or important.”

Steve laughed and gave him a smile, “you know… I appreciate that.”

Bucky grabbed the next card, “alright. Oh man… I don’t want to ask this. Can I take a shot instead of ask it?”

[2 shots]

Bucky pointed to the man off camera, “I will take that deal”

Steve smirked, “what was it?” He reached over to grab the card and skim it quickly. He snorted slightly, “smart choice.”

“okay my turn.” Steve read the new one, “have you ever caught me masturbating or having sex?”

Bucky shook his head, “not masturbating. I think I heard you and Sharon one time.”

Steve furrowed his brows, confused. “me and Sharon never…”

Bucky’s eyes widened in a surprised shock, “what? Really? Oh then I heard you and someone but never liked walked in on which is honestly surprising because we lived together for like 5 years and through college.” Steve nodded in agreement.

“if I killed somebody would you help me cover up the body?”

Steve didn’t even hesitate, “for sure! I don’t know how good I would be at helping but I’d help.”

Bucky smiled and pumped a fist, “that’s friendship right there! Though I might ask Natasha over you.”

Steve agreed, “yeah that’s a smart choice. I’d probably get us caught.”

Steve read the card quickly and shook his head in exasperation, “let’s take another shot before this question.” He gulped back the shot with a slight grimace, “what would it take for us to have sex?”

Bucky grimaced, “I’m gonna take another shot after that question.” He studied Steve for a second, “I mean not much look at him.” That caused everyone behind the camera to laugh. Bucky continued with a smile, “No I’m joking, it would take a lot. I mean first, we’d both have to be single so that would already be a hard obstacle. Then probably like a solid amount of money.”

Steve raised his brow, “really? Like how much?”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know… enough to pay for most things that I’ll need for the rest of my life.”

“okay so like an absurd amount.”

Bucky nodded aggressively, “yeah…” Bucky groaned as he read the next card, “sit on my lap and stare into my eyes intimately or take a shot.”

“okay so here’s the thing.” Steve started to explain, “I would do that really easily but I also just really don’t want to right now? You know?” Steve continued on despite the agreement from Bucky, “Like if I was a tad drunker than I probably would but we’re both dating someone and-”

Bucky laughed, “just take the shot. Pour me one too.”

Steve pulled the next question, “do you love me. If yes, say it or take a shot.”

Bucky smiled, “of course I love you, you’re my best friend.”

Steve smiled back at him, “aww thanks man. I love you too!”

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

Note

You know what bothers me with newer Tim fans, especially Red Robin fans? Their obsession with villainTim. There's these two popular genius tropes, one is the cold sociopath type and the oblivious manic type, they seem to use like a hybrid of these for him. So one of their favorite headcanon is what if Tim DID join Ra's and turned against Bruce. Because R'as appreciates him more and called him DetECtive. And this is my villain origin, I don't trust these people. I don't think they get Tim.

Yeaaaaah, I’ve seen enough of the stories you’re talking about to be familiar with the trend, and I agree that I’m not at all a fan of that take on Tim, but whatevs. I’ve definitely noted how much it helps enable casual ableism and a whoooooole lot of negative or dismissive reference to or framing of neurodivergencies LIKE sociopathy, psychopathy and BPD (not saying that you were doing that, as I read it as like, just your referencing fics that EMBRACE those descriptions of those things), lol, but tbh, that’s a complaint I’ve long had with the Batman franchise and its fandom in their entireties. For people who talk a good game about “but all Batman’s rogues are mentally ill and that’s why he’s either great for how he deals with them or the worst for how he deals with them depending on your take on him” like....there’s a hell of a lot of casual ableism thrown about how bipolar Dick is (not talking about the honest, sincere examinations of him being possibly bipolar, but more just the fact that people so casually ARRIVE at that conclusion due to how ‘easy’ it makes it to reconcile the opposing extremes of his character when like.....those are really only fanon based in the first place) or like the takes you described about Tim, and don’t even get me STARTED on many of the takes on “Pit madness.”

But also, in lines with the Tim fans who specifically like him as like, the Ultimate Villainous Mastermind, that’s not specific to Tim fans, I’d say. I think all of the Batkids have fans that make me go Why Tho when it comes to their seeming preferred takes......much like how Bruce has so many canon writers and fans who PREFER him as the lone, brooding guy who drives away everyone around him so he can be a hermit in a cave. Like, there are those Dick fans who only seem to really like Dick when he’s well, being raped. Or the Jason fans who actively WANT him abandoned and ‘misunderstood’ and just like.....Jason Against The World (Including his family). Etc, etc.

So its not just Tim, I mean, there are fans of every Bat character where I’m just like. Yeah. I don’t get you guys. But whatevs. *Shrugs*

I will say though, the “Tim should be with Ra’s instead of Bruce because at least he APPRECIATES Tim” trope is right up there with the “Bruce is a bad dad, and let’s prove that by comparing him to Slade as we characterize Slade as Dad of The Year” in Things That Make Me Laugh Hysterically and Also Go Oww My Brain.

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bat-losers-inc · 5 years

Text

Tether

Warning: language, mind control, and dubious consent.

Pairing: Jason Todd/Tim Drake, Tim Drake/Ra’s al Ghul, Jason Todd/Tim Drake/Ra’s al Ghul (implied).

Summary: For her love of Bruce, Talia took a risk when restoring Jason to his former self by secretly submerging him in the lazarus pit that her father currently occupied. With her help, Jason Todd escapes the House of Al Ghul with his mind and body restored to health but no one could have foreseen the rippling consequences that such an action would have. Now years later, Ra’s discovers the tether that connects his mind and body with Jason’s and uses it to his own advantages to gain power over his would-be successor, Tim Drake.

They’re stretched out on the bed reuniting after one of Jason’s long international missions with the Outsiders when it happens, and Tim thinks, not for the first time, that it’s almost like he knew they were together.

Like they’d stirred the beast.

Tim bent over Jason and worked his teeth down the long tanned expanse of his neck; arched back and offering up the unkempt territory of his five o’clock shadow for defilement. Jason gasped, squirmed, and twisted his fingers into the corners of the pillow case under his head. Tim took in the sight from his position straddling Jason’s sharp hip bones as he pulled his own shirt up and over his head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

Jason yanked Tim down by the back of his neck and pulled him flush against him so they were laid out chest to chest; feeling the heat coming off each other’s bodies and the skimming tickle of hair and raised scars against nipples as their chests moved in synchronization with each shared breath.

“I’ve missed you,” Jason murmured against Tim’s lips, barely sparing enough breath and distance to get the words past his kisses.

“Really?” Tim smiled. “Show me how much.”

He found himself on his back with Jason’s strong form pressing his legs up into his chest. There was barely enough time to hook his ankles together around Jason’s back before he entered him.

No time to adjust— No pretense of foreplay— Just Jason thrusting once, twice, three times with such uncontrolled power that Tim threw out a hand against the headboard to brace himself. He could feel the spot where Jason’s hips snapped like a switch against him, already feeling the ache in his backside— his thoughts on bruises and the soreness he’d feel a few hours from now.

There was a thrill in the urgency of it, but no physical pleasure. Jason could be rough at times but never without a care, no, in fact he was almost proud of the way he could toe the line between pain and pleasure.

“Say my name.”

“Jason—” Tim gasped between the thrusts that felt as if they were punching the breath from his lungs. “Wait, please—”

Jason’s hand shot out and jerked Tim’s chin around to look him in the face. His eyes flashed with a wild glint that Tim recognized and the fear that rose in him felt as if it might reach into his chest and stop his heart in its inhuman grasp. “Say my name.”

Tim’s hand struck out and slapped Jason hard across the face, whipping his head to the side. He lay there on the bed, panic stricken, as he watched Jason turn back to face him.

Jason chuckled down at him, stilled for a moment with a look of alarm, and then dropped face first into the mattress. Tim couldn’t breathe again as Jason’s full weight fell on top of him — like a marionette with its strings cut— his face wedging into the crook of Tim’s neck. Tim starred at the ceiling above his head, feeling Jason go soft inside him.

Finally he found air to breathe and gave a sigh of relief.

Jason’s breath fanned hot against Tim’s neck at he released a shuddering exhale before unceremoniously pulling out and rolling off Tim to face towards the far wall. Tim laid still for moment before pulling the covers up over his naked body.

His throat worked laboriously before he could finally swallow enough to get the words out. “Are you okay?”

Jason laughed, full of dark humor. “Peachy. You know, except for the part where I keep getting telepathically cockblocked by Ra’s al Ghul who wants to hijack my body so he can use it to hate fuck you into the next century.”

Laughter bubbled up out of Tim all at once and he slapped a hand over his mouth before it had a chance to become hysterical. He blinked the wetness out of his eyes until the ceiling stopped swimming above him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I—”

“Did I hurt you?” Jason cut across him.

Tim paused, and slowly let his hands drop back down to his sides. “Don’t you mean, did he hurt me?”

“No,” said Jason. “He might have control of my body, but I’m still there. I might be shoved to the back of my mind but I see what he does to you with my hands, my dick, my teeth...”

Jason scrubbed roughly at his face.

“You fought back against him and broke free quickly this time.”

“Did I hurt you, Tim?” Jason’s voice was more forceful this time. Tim knew better than to avoid answering him.

“They’re just bruises, Jason. They’re heal.”

Jason sat up in bed, pulled his knees up to his chest and let his hands lingering shakily over his temples. He breathed hard with a panicked gasp and screwed his eyes tightly shut. “I can feel him… lurking around in the back of my head, just out of my mental awareness.”

Tim shifted over on the bed and rubbed soothing patterns in one of Jason’s shoulders. “I can reach out to Zatanna again—”

Jason shook his hand off violently. “We’ve tried all of her spells and potions and charms—”

He ripped off the most recent of them, a bracelet written in a language Tim couldn’t begin to fathom, and chucked it across the room where it struck the wall and dropped like a rock.

“ — none of them work because this isn’t a demonic possession or martian telepathy. It’s the lazarus pit— the water that restitched my organs, knitted my skin back over the wounds, and filled the blood in my veins did the same to him that night. We’re linked in a way that no other two on earth are linked. It’s in the blood. I doubt Zatanna knows any more about it than Ra’s and I do.”

“Jason… tell me what I can do.”

Jason threw his feet over the end of the bed and picked up his discarded shirt. He pulled it back over his head and sat silently for a moment, just staring out the bedroom window.

“I think you should spend the night at the manor.”

“What?”

Jason half-turned towards him, his rough face in profile. “It’s not safe for you here. If he got past me once… there’s no telling if he’ll try again and push harder this time.”

It was hard to argue with that logic so Tim made his way around the room and pulled his clothing back on, article by article. He stopped in front of Jason and retrieved his abandoned shirt off the floor between his spread feet. It wrinkled in his hands, his fingers clenching and unclenching it as he stood there, glued to the spot, trying to think of words to say to change the outcome of this night. He couldn’t believe that Jason had been away from him for so long and even when he was back, Tim still wasn’t allowed to be with him but instead found himself kicked out of his own apartment.

And for his safety.

That was the worst part of it all… Jason was supposed to be safe and yet he wasn’t… couldn’t be, because it wasn’t just Jason that Tim slept with. It was Ra’s too.

Tim pulled on his shirt and finally his shoes, and together he and Jason made their disgraceful retreat towards the door, both too ashamed to meet each other’s eyes with the reality of the situation staring back at them.

Tim left the apartment by the stairs, but he didn’t go to the manor like Jason had suggested. Instead, Tim headed across town to the Hotel Belle Monico.

He was sick of this situation… sick to death of Jason’s wary touches, the enforced distances, the guilty looks that Jason threw at him. Tim did not like having a boyfriend he had to share with another anymore that Jason did. The way Tim figured it… if Ra’s was going to fuck him, Tim would much rather know when it was happening and do it on his own terms. And as messed up as it all might seem, just maybe sleeping with Ra’s would satisfy the older man enough to stop him from using the tether to take over Jason’s body. Maybe, Tim could have Jason back.

Tim was led up to the room the second he walked through the hotel doors. The penthouse door opened and Ra’s leaned casually against its frame.

“Hello again, Ra’s.”

Ra’s smiled a slow and satisfying smile. “I was wondering when you’d finally show up.”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in for a drink?”

Ra’s opened the door wider for Tim to step through and in a silent apartment across town for one night, in as long as Jason could remember, he couldn’t feel Ra’s al Ghul pressed at the back of his mind. For a night, he was free.

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sasuhinasno1fan · 5 years

Text

A night with my Japanese class crush

Inspired by these prompts I found here. I love college/university aus, there the ones I tend to default to since I'm in college myself. College

Lance knocked on the door again, hoping someone would answer. This wasn’t happening. He was not locked out of his own dorm room because he forgot his keys in the room when he went to go grab dinner and study. Except, well, he was. He knew Hunk wasn’t there. His high school sweetheart went to a college a few hours from theirs and her extremely over protective brother wasn’t going to be on campus for the weekend. His other suitemates though, James Griffin and Lotor Daibazaal, the assholes, had to of gone out for the night. The most annoying thing was they all hung their keys up on hook by the door, so they knew he didn’t have his keys yet they still locked the door. He groaned, dropping on the door and sliding down to the floor. It was cold outside and he just wanted to go back into his room and put his fuzzy shark onesie on and drink hot chocolate and fall asleep listening to the new Alexander Jean CD he finally got.

Part of him wondered if he’d get in trouble for falling asleep in the dorms’ lounge but he knew the last time someone had done that, they woke up with dicks and curse words drawn on their face. Lance was not risking that. He tried to think, was anyone he knew on campus still awake? Allura? No, she had early morning practise, so she’d be asleep with her earbuds in and he didn’t really know he roommate too well. Adam? He was the RA for a whole other building and if he remembered correctly, his favourite TA was on duty tonight so he couldn’t have guests. Pidge? No to that too, they lived with their brother and Matt loved annoying him by flirting with him and he didn’t have the mental compacity to put up with him right then.

In his frustration, Lance picked up his Japanese text book and threw it down the hall, where it hit the door on the other side. He heard the door opening as he threw his face into his hands.

“What the hell? Lance?”

He looked up and froze when he saw the person at the end of the hall. Shit.

“Keith!” he cried, shooting up and stared the other male. “What, what are you doing here? I thought you lived in Montgomery.”

“I do, but my brother lives here and he’s busy and asked me to watch his cat.”

“Huh?” Cat? Pets weren’t allowed in the building? And what brother? And why was Keith even here?

Keith and Lance were in the same Japanese class. He had noticed him on their first day. There class was set up so the desks were in a circle and Keith was opposite Lance. the first thing he had noticed was his hair was a bit of a mullet but other than the tragic hairstyle, Keith was really good looking. Like drop dead gorgeous, with his dark eyes and obvious muscles. Back when the weather had been hotter, Keith came to class with his bangs clipped back and his hair tied into a messy bun and Lance felt his heart stop. No one should look that good. Didn’t help that he’d been in a tank top and it took everything in him not to get lost during the lesson because he kept staring at Keith. Whenever they stood next to each other when the teach would have them practise writing characters, Lance would control himself not to blush. God, literally last week, they were paired to do a practise conversation and Keith asked him if he was free on Saturday and Lance melted a little before remembering it was a practise conversation.

“What are you doing out here? And throwing your textbook out that hall?”

“Huh?” Lance realised Keith was talking to him. “I left my keys in my room by accident and even though my other roommates so my keys on the hook by the door, they still locked it.”

“I can call security for you?” Keith offered, holding out Lance’s textbook.

“Thanks, but Hunk used the suite’s free passes when he kept forgetting his keys, hence why we hang them up by the door now.”

“Oh. Are any of your roommates coming back?”

Lance shook his head. “Hunk’s gone to see his girlfriend for the weekend and I know my asshole roommates left for the night. Everyone else I know isn’t the best option to stay the night with.”

“Did you want to stay the night with me?”

“What?”

“My brother went to grab something from the student store and his therapy cat keeps meowing if he’s not in the room, so I’m keeping her occupied.” Keith explained.

“That’s what that noise was?” Lance said, thinking back to the times he was so sure he heard a cat meowing. Then he remembered something else. “Wait, the guy who carries the spaceship bag is your brother? I though he was a pre-vet student.”

“Shiro a pre-vet major? No, Shiro studying to be a teacher. He’ll be back soon and my roommate dropped out halfway through the semester so I’ve got a dingle. You can sleep on the extra bed and we can come back the next day to make sure your roommates are back.”

A whole night with Keith, alone? Lance would not make it through the night.

“I, I don’t have anything to wear. I needed a shower.” Lance tried to excuse.

“Most of Shiro’s hand-me-downs I use as pyjamas. I have extra towels too.”

Lance struggled to find another excuse. He didn’t want one because a whole night with Keith, yes please, but it was also Keith.

“Sure.” He agreed in the end.

“Cool, come on. we can wait in Shiro’s room till he gets back.”

Lance slowly followed Keith into the room, which he realised was one of the random singles on the floor. While one wall was taken mostly by a bed, the other had a large cat tree and a steady incline of perches, including a bridge that lead to the dresser. Tangled up in a teasing rope toy was a black cat, with a few patches of white.

“That’s Kuro, Shiro’s therapy cat.” Keith explained as he gently nudged her side, moving when she twisted in attempt to sink her claws into his foot.

“Oh. Ok. Medical issues?”

“Mostly. He has really bad anxiety after this accident he had. He’s much better than he was when he first got her but I guess you can say she’s overprotective. She doesn’t like having him out of her sight.”

“I see.”

The door opened and the guy Lance and Hunk were always so sure was a pre-vet student came in, unzipping his jacket. Most of his black hair was hidden by a beanie, but his white dyed fringe was still in his face.

“Oh, hello?”

“Shiro, this is Lance. He lives across the hall.”

Shiro’s grey eyes lit up with recognition. “Right. You live with Lotor right?”

“Unfortunately.” Lance said. It was no secret he didn’t like Lotor or James.

“Yeah, he makes it a habit to complain about me bringing Kuro to class.” Shiro said.

“I’m sure he does.”

“Lotor and his other roommate locked Lance out so he’s gonna spend the night with me.” Keith said, picking up his jacket from Shiro’s bed.

“Alright.” Shiro pulled out two bowls of instant ramen and gave whatever was left in the bag to Keith. “I’ll see you around Lance.”

“You too.” Lance said following Keith out the door and back into the cold air.

“Are you hungry?” Keith asked, his words slightly muffled with his scarf around his mouth.

“Um a little.” Lance admitted. “I can just grab something from the vending machine when we get to Montgomery.”

“No need, I have food in my room. I hope you don’t mind ramen.”

“Consists of most of my diet.” Lance admitted.

They soon reached the building and Keith tapped his student ID to the card reader, pulling the door open when it let out a beep. He led Lance up two flights of stairs and down the hall where a door covered in a Sherlock door poster hung, making the door look like the door for apartment 221B. According to the old marking on the door jam, it was actually room 221.

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I had gotten the poster for Christmas before I started college and when I saw what my room was, I knew I had to bring it.” Keith unlocked his door and let Lance walk in first before he followed him. one side of the room looked unoccupied while the other was obviously lived in. the bed was covered in red and black sheets, the blanket shoved near the end of the bed, almost covering the large hippo plush. The desk was pushed against the end of the bed and held a large monitor for the desk top computer. Most of the wall was covered in posters of different anime or space related. On the chest of the drawers, acrylic stands and figurines were spread out, picture frames placed in free spaces around them.

Lance dropped his things on the empty bed and glanced over at the pictures. There was one with Keith and an older guy. He almost looked like Shiro but Lance could tell that he resembled Keith more. Another picture held a woman in army fatigues who looked more like Keith. There was one with Shiro and Keith along with a dog, who looked like more fur than anything. He looked over at Keith as he dropped his jacket onto the chair, taking the bag to the microwave that sat on top of the mini fridge. He turned on the kettle sitting on top of it and pulled out the other bowls of ramen.

“You said you didn’t like beef ramen, right?” Lance looked confused, unsure how Keith even knew that. “You mentioned it in class one day, around the food section?”

He had mentioned that, but that had been during a practise conversation that Lance knew he hadn’t been paired with Keith for.

“Um yeah. Don’t really like the taste of it.”

“I have soy sauce udon, is that ok?” Lance nodded and watched Keith pull a container out from the fridge and put it in the microwave. He picked up a mug that seemed to hold all the cutlery Keith owned and held it out for Lance.

Lance smiled at the sight of Studio Ghibli themes chopsticks as he took the Kiki’s Delivery Service ones.

“I didn’t realise you were such an otaku Keith.”

“Have you seen my bookbag?”

He had. It was covered in pins from different animes and the bag itself was Kingdom Hearts themed. “I prefer my pins on an itabag.”

“Oh I have itabags, I just don’t use bags on campus except for my bookbag so there’s no point in bringing them.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh. He was still nervous about staying the night in Keith’s dorm, especially with his crush on him but he was learning a lot about Keith. It was slowly becoming easier to relax around him. The microwave went off and Keith pulled out the container, a cloud of steam erupting when Keith opened it and offered it to Lance.

“Seafood dumplings. I was going to finish these tonight so feel free.”

“Is it ok?” Lance asked. With Keith’s nod, Lance picked one up between his chopsticks and took a small bite. “These are good.”

“There’s this kinda unknown dim sum place not far from here. It’s pretty good.”

“Sounds like fun. I should check it out.”

The kettle went off next and Keith went to fill the bowls with hot water, keeping the lids down with a chopstick each before sitting next to Lance on the bed. He took Lance’s chopsticks from his hands and used it to pick up his own dumpling.

And there went Lance’s blood pressure, shooting up at the thought of using the same utensils as Keith.

‘Congratulations Lance, you’ve become a complete child with a crush.’

“Were you studying Japanese?” Keith asked.

“Hmm?” Then Lance remembered it had been his Japanese textbook he threw at Shiro’s door. “Yeah. The kanji is really hard.”

“Yeah. I get confused with some of them. I’m not looking forward to when we have to start using them in our writing.”

“I’m still more worried about speaking part of it. When I get nervous, my mind starts switching Spanish and Japanese.”

“Oh yeah, I remember the midterm exam, the speaking portion. You recovered really well though. If you want, I can help you practise your speaking.” Keith offered.

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Lance couldn’t really answer after that. He wanted to. Keith didn’t have to but he wanted to.

“Sure. If it’s ok with you. Man, you are really doing a lot for me. Letting me stay the night, feeding me, helping me study.”

“I’m sure you can figure out some way to repay me.” Keith said, his voice sounding flirtatious, making Lance’s heart stop again.

‘He isn’t allowed to do this. I’m dying, why is he doing this?’

“You ok?”

“Yep, sure, totally fine.” Lance rushed out. Then Keith gave him this smile. God, he really wasn’t allowed to smile like that!

“Here, I think the ramen is ready.” Lance took his chopsticks back, and stuffed a dumpling into his mouth, trying to organize his thoughts. “Did you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure, you can choose.”

Keith handed Lance his bowl, which he started to dig into then woke his computer up. He put a DVD into the drive and skipped to the main menu.

“Ohh, Kingsman! I love that movie. The second one was really good.” Lance said as he saw the main menu.

“It’s one of my favourite ones. I remember Shiro saw it with his boyfriend and they said Eggsy had gotten married to a blonde chick and my mind went to Roxy.”

“I know, I watched it on the plane ride home but I was half asleep and the person next to me was watching it and was like ‘I can’t believe they shoved those two together! That was one of the stories good points, that Roxy and Eggsy were only best friends, never even hinted to be in a relationship. I was glad we were both wrong.”

“I know. But I guess it speaks to how Eggsy values relationships. He liked Roxy only as a friend and they stayed that way the whole time and even though he only wanted to have sex with the princess, he was able to hold a relationship with her, something he never wanted to risk, even for his job.”

“I kinda hope I can have a relationship like that.” Lance said.

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem.” Keith said, in that same flirtatious voice.

Oh god, Lance didn’t know if he was trying to say something. That was a tomorrow issue. For now, he was going to enjoy watching this movie and ramen with Keith.

#klance au month #college au #pinning lance

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