#robin remains to this day the only one who knows the truth about that scar

[stevebabey]

steve harrington but it's that jeff winger moment from community. if u have seen community, u will know... my first stobin-centric piece <3 tw for parental neglect and a prior act of self-harm. this is absolutely on the steve harrington has bad parents train <3

“Steven, this is ridiculous.”

Robin freezes in place. Her hand hovers over the remote she's just placed back down, her limbs locking up one by one at the sound of the voice at the door.

It is not a familiar voice. She knows who it is all the same.

She fights not to move, knowing the couch springs, old and rusted, threaten to reveal her hiding place, even if it is her house. Robin is very much allowed to be here. Expected, even.

But Steve? Steve is not.

It’s why there’s one Christine Harrington on the dingy porch steps.

It’s an unwelcome surprise — even after all the fuss of the 4th of July, a thousand police sirens, endless NDAs, and too much blood on his uniform, Steve’s parents hadn’t shown.

Out of town, Steve had said, his bashed in face making it impossible to read his expression. His eyes were haunted and misty but Robin couldn’t tell if it was from the horror of the night or… a loneliness far older.

So Robin had done the fussing. Had dragged him home with her, shooed away her rightfully nosy parents, and mended him up on her bathroom counter.

Steve had been silent, a little wide-eyed as she worked on each cut, each bruise — but with her gentle touch, he had been helpless to do anything but melt beneath it.

He’d called her Robbie for the first time that night. They’d fallen asleep with their hands intertwined, her arm hanging off the bed to reach out to him on her bedroom floor.

Robin still hasn’t met Steve’s parents, even though it’s been more than a couple months since that night.

She’s been to his house countless times too. She knows where the spare key is, if she ever loses her own copy, that is. Knows which stair squeaks on the way up to the second floor and how the lock on the downstairs bathroom gets jammed too easily.

She’s eaten the best grilled cheese of her life in their kitchen, sitting on the counter.

She’s laughed so hard she’s cried on their couch, getting the throw pillows wet with her happy tears.

She’s still never met Steve’s parents. Til right now.

Christine Harrington has her arms wrapped tight around her frame and Robin has no doubt that on her face is a frown that could make babies cry.

She can’t see her face though. Can only just see a glimpse of her tense body from where she sits. Steve blocks part of her view, his own tense frame in the doorway.

He’d answered the door instead of Robin only because he had the foresight to glance at the front window after the first rap at the door. It was late. Robin’s parents certainly wouldn’t knock at their own home and neither of them were expecting visitors.

The expensive car in the drive, a sore thumb along Robin’s street, had given away the identity of just who was knocking so late in the evening. So, Steve had opened it.

“Mom—”

“I mean utterly ridiculous.” Steve gets cut off without second thought, Christine continuing on as if she hasn’t heard him at all.

“Did you expect us to spend all evening chasing you around? Figuring out where you were tonight from the Carlton’s across the road?”

She’s got this snippy tone that Robin’s heard a thousand times from teachers. Patronising. Too cold for it to seem like a genuinely concerned parent.

“The Carlton’s?” Steve echoes, a bit meek. His shoulders have rolled forward, sinking down a bit and Robin can see his tight grip on the door. Still, she stays frozen, rooted to the couch.

“Yes, Steven.” Christine says his full name again, all bite. “Imagine the shame your father and I felt hearing that. Hearing who you had been associating with.”

“Don’t say that.” Steve grits out immediately, anger bleeding into his tone.

The muscles in his back ripple as he forces his shoulders back, as if he had remembered how to stand up straight at the mention of his friend.

Robin aches; at the reminder of the stark differences of their upbringings and at Steve’s unquestionable loyalty. She finally unfreezes, sitting up a little straighter and leaning forward more— ready to spring up from her seat.

She’s not sure what for exactly. She sorta really wants to go slam the door on Steve’s mom’s face and go back to being bundled up on the couch with him. The urge is strong enough to make her fingers twitch.

“Why are you here, Mom?”

There’s a strain to Steve’s question, even though he doesn’t falter in appearance. Robin can’t see his face either though. She hopes it’s got the bitchiest expression Steve can muster.

“Don’t be smart, Steven.” Christine reprimands coldly. “I know that we may have taken a larger absence than intended but that’s not any excuse to parade yourself around with the strays of this town.”

Strays. Robin feels the word pelt into her and burn into her skin, sinking all the way down. It feels like cold water has tipped down the back of her neck. An unwelcome pit forms in her stomach.

She had known, of course, the reputation of a family like the Harrington's. She hadn’t quite known the extent they would go to protect it. Policing your child's friends over a matter of image is absurd.

Somehow, Robin can see how Steve grows even tenser at his mom’s words— hackles raising like that on a dog. His knuckles turn white. But before he speaks, Christine is barreling on like she hasn’t just slandered every one of Steve’s new friends.

“And to leave the house in such a state?”

Robin hears her sigh heavily, as though this really is the biggest problem in her life — which she can’t fathom in the slightest.

There was nothing wrong with Steve’s house. No mess beyond the usual evidence that someone, you know, lived there.

“Mom, I—” Steve starts again.

“Well, I’m sure you have your reasons. You always do.” She says it so pointedly, like Steve was known for peddling lies to weasel his way out of trouble.

It’s so un-Steve it makes Robin blink hard, wondering if she had heard right.

Steve was honest. He owned his mistakes and he took things on the chin. It was something she had liked most about him in the beginning.

Back when it was all snark and Robin told herself she was never going to be his friend, in this universe or anything other. That even then, reluctant co-worker and nothing more, Steve was honest and decent to her always.

“Now, come on now.” Christine Harrington huffs out her demand. “Your father is waiting in the car and there no use winding him up more than you already have.”

Robin’s stomach turns at her words. It had been a topic of discussion between them, one night weeks ago, lips loosened by the dark. I feel like a dog to them, Steve had admitted quietly, his breath against her pillow and his warmth under her sheets. Like they just leave alone most of the time but expect me to perk up and come running the moment they call. I hate it.

“I’m not coming with you.”

The words stammer on their way out like he had forced them out— and Robin wants to sing she’s so proud of her best friend.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not coming with you.” Steve repeats himself, the words a little firmer this time. “I’m… I’m spending the night here, with my friend Robin.”

He trails off, the words weaker, losing steam. Robin rises to her feet, the tell-tale squeak of the couch springs letting Steve know she was still here. Still right behind him.

It makes him stand a little straighter.

“I— I’ll come home in the morning.”

Christine Harrington makes a little scoffing noise, a high pitched faux laugh as if Steve’s said something amusing.

“Tell me when did I raise such an ungrateful brat?” She muses meanly and Robin doesn’t miss the way Steve flinches lightly. “We give you free rein of the house, apt time by yourself, and yet when we request you to spend a single evening with us—”

“You’re not asking, you’re demanding.” Steve cuts in, his voice more heated now.

“Oh hush, Steven. You act as if we’re so awful.”

It’s all dismissal. Everything, every word, a dismissal.

“I just can’t win with you, can I?” Christine sighs again, disappointment dripping from the sound. “Either we’re not here enough or we’re here but you can’t find time to have dinner with your family. Which is it, Steven?”

In the doorway, Steve begins to bristle. Robin really, really wants to slam the door now — if only to stop this conversation that seems to keep cutting deeper and deeper into her best friend.

She steps closer to him, moving as silently as she can, and makes sure to stay out of sight as she places a hand gently on the small of his back.

He’s shaking, she realises.

Her heart twists painfully in her chest.

Then, deathly calm, Steve says, “Did you know in 7th grade, I lied and I told everyone in my class that I got appendicitis?”

Robin blinks at the change in subject, the strangeness of Steve’s comment. She does remember that, vaguely. A boy in the year above— it had been a wildfire rumour that had turned out to be true.

Or so she thought. Staring hard at the planes of Steve’s back, the pit in her stomach yawns with an anticipation of devastation. Her hand on his back curls up a bit.

“You and Dad were gone for the whole month to Washington. It was the first time you had ever gone for that long and you didn’t even tell me until the day before you left.”

“Steven—”

“I just wanted someone to worry about me.” He steamrolls on, tone too casual for the story he was telling. “And it worked."

A beat.

"But then Cassie Lange asked about the scar.”

Robin’s hand on Steve's back twists up tighter. She feels like she knows what’s coming— but wishes it to be not true.

She doesn’t want to think of Steve, little twelve year old Steve, doing all that he can for a scrap of attention he was supposed to be getting from his parents.

“And rather than admit I’d lied…” The words come out too tight. “I went and found your sewing scissors and I made one.”

There’s this icy bite to Steve’s voice, his shoulders tensed back up. Christine still hasn’t said anything.

“I hurt like a bitch but it was worth it. I got a card from every single person in my class.”

“You wanna see the scar?” He asks— then he’s moving, his hand rucking up his sweater and shirt and exposing the skin of his stomach. Christine makes a noise like a muffled gasp. Robin feels a bit sick. Steve drops his shirt.

“And I kept all of those cards I got —all 17 of them stashed them under my bed in a box that I still have til this day.” He exhales through his nose. “Because it was proof that, at some point, somebody actually gave a shit about me. Because you didn’t. You didn’t then and you don’t get to now.”

His words hang in the air. There’s a long stretch of silence where Steve stares down the woman on the porch— someone closer to a stranger than a friend.

“So, I will see you at home, tomorrow.”

And then he slams the door to Robin’s house shut with a finality that shakes the air. Robin tenses up at the loud noise. Steve doesn't move, just stays staring at the closed door.

Behind them both, one of the noisy pipes in the house makes a loud noise. It sounds worse than usual as it breaks the silence.

Outside, Robin hears the click of heels on the pavement as they quieten, moving further away.

The pit in her stomach tightens immeasurably, a faint bile taste in her mouth. She finally remembers to smooth out her hand, pressing it flat against Steven’s back— another reminder that she was there.

If he wanted to talk or he didn’t, she was there.

Suddenly Steve sighs, an exhale so large that he shrinks down a couple inches, his shoulders dropping. It sounds exhausted.

He finally turns away from the door, to Robin, and she can only hope her face conveys every ounce of love, of support, she feels within her chest.

“Steve…” She breathes softly.

He wasn’t crying but just the sound of his name, spoken so delicately, seems to inspire tears. Robin catches the tremble of his lip and moves without thought— throwing both her arms around his neck and wrestling him into a hug.

Steve goes easy, his arms snaking around her middle and holding her back so tightly it nearly makes her squeak. She doesn’t though— just lets him bury his face in her neck, taking these big shuddering breaths, these half-formed sobs that break her heart clean in half.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there. Car engines drone as they pass by the street. The streetlights seem to get brighter. Steve presses himself so close to her, as close as he can, and Robin hugs back just as tight. She gives him all the time he needs.

She wonders if there’s an indent of him on her when he finally pulls back — a Steve Harrington shaped outline imprinted on her soul. It feels like there is.

If she could trace it, she thinks, it would be whatever shape love takes.

“Thanks Robbie.” He croaks out. He’s started scrubbing furiously at his face and she can see the wet sheen of tears as he wipes them away.

Robin doesn’t move far, just unwinds her arms a bit and lets them fall back to her sides. There’s an ache between her brows from how long she’s been frowning in concern. Steve looks more disheveled than usual, his usually perfect hair looking flatter — but he looks lighter too, somehow.

“No need to thank me, dingus.” She says, voice soft. She faux punches his chest and then regrets it when his lips don’t even twitch upward. It’s weird to see Steve all undone.

Robin thinks back to that conversation and the callousness of Steve’s mom. Her uncaring tone, the use of his full name like an insult.

She thinks of what Steve had said.

“I’m sorry you felt—” The words get stuck in her throat which grows thicker as she thinks about it. About a self-made scar on Steve’s abdomen, made by a twelve year old boy who just wanted someone to worry.

“—That you felt like you had to do something like that to yourself. I’m sorry no one noticed what you really needed.”

Steve nods slowly, his eyes glazed with a far away look as he stares somewhere over Robin’s shoulder. He gives this little shrug, a little huff through his nose.

“It’s okay.” He says, voice a bit distant. “I mean, it’s not but… even if I hadn’t meant to tell you, I’m glad someone knows now.”

It takes another second before he finally seems to shake himself from his thoughts, turning to properly look at Robin. His eyes are red-rimmed and the tip of his nose is pink. Tell tale signs of tears.

“I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Robin swallows thickly and it takes effort to choke down the urge to cry.

“Well,” She starts. It comes out too high pitched and tight and she clears her throat. “Thank you for telling me.

Some kind of smile plays on Steve’s lips, as if he can tell that she’s fighting off her sniffling and it’s sorta funny to him. It is, a little.

Because instead of being embarrassed or feeling pitied, he feels… delightfully surprised to have her care so much. To be so upset on his behalf.

“Oh, c’mon Robbie,” He gives her that same faux-punch in the shoulder she did earlier and it actually succeeds in making her lips pull up at the edges. “None of that.”

“You’re such a dingus.” Robin says. It comes out a bit wobbly still. Sue her— she doesn’t have Steve’s insane ability to bounce from one emotion to another in a single second.

Steve grins. He wanders back to the couch and flops down onto it. Robin follows and when she sits down, it’s a fraction closer to him this time. He gives one last scrub of his face, wiping the last of his tears away.

She nudges him with her thigh. She has to check just one more time.

“You alright?”

Steve smiles, crooked in that way that lets her know it’s completely sincere. He reaches forward and presses unmute on the remote, the film they’re watching starting up again with a buzz.

Steve presses his thigh back against Robin’s and in the dim lighting of her living room, his eyes glitter with an emotion that threatens to make her want to cry once more.

“Course.” He says. “I got someone checking up on me now,”

Another pointed nudge of his thigh against hers. “I’m better than ever.”

#everybody say it with me now: OOF #the writing of this episode is so good and i simply cannot resist the brainworms when it fits too well #i love making them hurt so they can comfort each other <3 #robin remains to this day the only one who knows the truth about that scar #stobin my beloved #ruby writes steve & robin #... new tag used shlay #steve & robin #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates #stobin ficlet #stobin drabble #i love these besties w all my freaking bones #idk tell me how i did. or dont. but please #steve harrington has bad parents #steve harrington whump #steve harrington hurt/comfort #platonic with a capital p

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Secret Santa (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Secret Santa (Rated G)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: None! Although, I'm sure my interpretation of secret santa is incorrect -- just a heads up.

Summary: For Stevemas Day 11; This Christmas, Robin decided to host a holiday celebration to bring the party together. When she adds in a little extra magic by starting a secret santa, Eddie recruits himself to help you find that perfect gift for that special someone.

It took you three times to read the two words on the page before you could finally understand it. Steve Harrington was written in red glitter pen on the folded slip in your hand. It was unmistakably Robin’s messy scrawl, but it still felt as if it was written in another language. Surely this couldn’t be right. 

“Alright,” came the voice of the aforementioned bubbly coworker. “Does everyone have a name for Secret Santa?”

There was a low murmur of agreement, followed by the crunch of paper, which spread throughout the Wheeler’s basement. Why you all continued to set up a base of operations in your best friend’s home remained a mystery. Perhaps you were just creatures of habit. Routines kept you safe, comfortable even. 

“Who’d you get?” The low voice of Eddie Munson caused you to quite literally jump from your thoughts. When he noticed your flinch, the metal head gave a small tut of concern. “Hey, you’re alright, you’re okay. It’s just me. It’s just…me.”

Ever since the attack, you’ve been considerably on edge. While nightmares took over your nights, paranoia filled your days. Every action could set you off. Whenever you closed your eyes, you saw it: that place and the horrors it contained. It happened so often and it felt so real. Sometimes you worried Henry had made his return. You had taken to sleeping with your Walkman at night, just in case. Never again did you want to return to that hellscape. 

Eddie repeated his question. “Who’d you get for secret Santa?”

“Why don’t you just mind your own business, Munson?” you snapped at the metalhead. “I think I’d be violating some sacred oath of the secret Santa if I told you.”

“I got Henderson,” Eddie supplied far too quickly. He rested his chin on your shoulder and tilted his head to look at you. “There. Now you have to tell me. And I know it isn’t me…you’d be grinning like the Cheshire cat if it was.” 

You sighed and held up the slip of paper clutched in your palm. Eddie wasted no time in snatching it up like the little gremlin that he was. A slow quiet whistle escaped him as he took in the name. “Well damn,” he said. “Didn’t you get lucky? This should be easy as pie for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The curly dark-haired boy raised an eyebrow at you in surprise. “You mean you’re not?” he asked. 

You shook your head. “Eddie, what are you talking about?”

“You and Harrington. You’re not…together or anything?”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. Sure, you had found yourself spending more time with Steve Harrington over the last two years, but it didn’t mean you were together. The Upside Down had messed with each and every one of your friends, who you considered to be more like family by now. Your panic somehow ended up bringing you closer to Steve, a guy you only admired from afar during your high school days. If you had told your freshman self you would be swapping horror stories and spilling blood with King Steve, you’re pretty sure they would have a heart attack. 

The truth was, Steve had turned out to be the exact opposite of what you imagine. He was gentle and kind. The two of you had formed an unofficial nightmare prevention club. The near-nightly meetings would consist of multiple-hour-long conversations over stretched out phone cords or late night drives around downtown Hawkins. Other times, it was just silently sitting in Steve’s dark and abandoned living room, grip tightened on small objects hidden under blankets. These moments were your battle scars and it would be a long healing process. Fortunately, the two of you had gotten really good at being there for each other in the meantime. 

“No, Eddie,” you corrected with a heavy sigh. “We’re not together. We’re just–”

“Friends? Yeah, right,” your friend shook his head with an angry passion. “Don’t go bullshitting me here, kid.”

“I’m not-”

Eddie held up a hand to your face to silence your argument. “Listen,” he said. “You might not see it, but I do. All of us do, actually. The two of you have been practically joined at the hip these days.” He tilted his head toward Steve’s direction. The man of the hour was talking to Robin at the time, the two of them getting into another one of their half-hearted arguments over something you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“You can’t tell me there isn’t something there, babe,” Eddie’s tone now softened. “I see the way you look at him.”

Your lower lip became the punching bag for a barrage of anxious bites as his words echoed in your mind. I see the way you look at him. Was it possible you had feelings for Steve? You continued to watch him as he maneuvered his way through the party, Robin continuing to ramble on as she followed on his coattails. It was almost effortless how he moved, sending smiles to each of the kids as he passed by. They were genuine with their accompanying eye sparkle, something you knew after the hours of late night conversations. 

It was a side effect of Steve realizing he didn’t need to change who he was to be respected by others. Besides his adventures with the kids, he talked a lot about his childhood and what it was like growing up with parents who were more concerned about appearance than their child’s happiness. He shared with you once how he felt being a member of a family meant acting in the world’s longest lasting play. You always had to play the part of the perfect person, he had explained, hiding your imperfections and letting go of the important things everyone else thought were stupid. 

“Ya know,” Steve mentioned at one point, “I think my parents would care less if I came home or not when they’re in town. As long as I was making a name for myself that was…positive and they could compare to some other set of snobs. Not some nobody who makes a lousy four bucks an hour shelving tapes every day.”

It broke your heart to hear his story. “Steve,” you had tried to console. “You’re not a nobody.”

“Not to you, or Henderson,” he relented. “God, I think the kid would probably have a heart attack if I didn’t answer to his every beck and call. Damn kid thinks he’s entitled now.”

You didn’t miss the ghost of a smile that dimly lit up his gaze as he spoke about Dustin. That “damn kid” changed him for the better, you knew Steve was beyond grateful for that. If it wasn’t for Dustin– and Nancy breaking his heart– he could have just been another cog in the corporate machine with wandering eyes. Now he was a man of heart, who valued family no matter what, even if it wasn’t by blood. 

“Hey, Eds?” you asked, eyes still locked onto the back of Steve’s too-tight blue and white rugby shirt. “Think you could give me a hand with something this week?”

The dazzling smile you received in response was more than enough confirmation. “For you, kid? Always.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

“Eddie, no.”

“But it’s real music!” your best friend argued as he waved the cassette tape in the air rather aggressively. “If you’re going to do this, you may as well culture him with the good stuff while you’re at it.”

“I want him to like it.” You shook your head and plucked the tape from his grasp, setting it back down in its place in the box. “If he blows his eardrums out in the process, I think he’d have a hard time being able to enjoy the rest of it.” 

 The metalhead clutched at his chest dramatically, followed up with a slow flop against his beaten mattress. “You wound me,” he mumbled into the pillows. A second later, he popped back up and leaned over the edge of the mattress. He seemed intent on finding something and soon sat back up with another smaller box clutched in his hands. “Try some of these.”

Intrigued, you frowned and reached for the box. As you lifted the top off, you noticed two tightly packed rows of tapes. You used your fingers to pry one loose and lifted it into the light. A snort escaped you as you read the label. “Blondie?” you asked, tone clearly that of amusement. 

Eddie rolled his eyes and began his own search through the original box of tapes. 

Another laugh sounded from you as you continued to dig through the selection in your lap. “Okay, okay. You have to explain why you, Edward James Munson, have not one, but two ABBA tapes in your possession.” 

“Blame it on Buckley,” he mumbled back in a bitter response. “She showed up one day to show me what she thought was good music. Why people enjoy this shit nowadays is just depressing.”

“Then why do you still have this shit?”

The only answer you received was a bored shrug. “I let you come in here and use my stereo system and go through my music collection to let you make your present for your dream boy-”

“Steve is not my dream boy-”

“Ah bah bah,” Eddie cut you off. “Don’t interrupt the generous man, kid. I give you access to my castle to work on your project for free. It doesn’t mean you get the chance to interrogate me about my collection like some kind of FBI agent.” He flicked two fingers in your general direction. “Make your picks.”

Your eyes drifted back to the box in your lap, a small smile tugging at your lips as you searched. The idea of a mixtape seemed like a good idea at first, but now that you were faced with the difficult decision of what to include on said mixtape, your confidence faltered just a bit. You took a deep breath, eyes closing to help you better concentrate. What was it that you wanted this to say to Steve? 

If you had the opportunity to say anything to the boy you had already bared most of your soul to, what would you say? Your heart rate increased as you thought about the look on his face in your bedroom window, sneaking in to comfort you when you had a nightmare: soft hazel eyes and an even softer smile on lips that would press into your hairline absentmindedly. You would cling onto the boy for dear life, terrified to lose your connection to reality. 

Without even trying, Steve had become your rock– the anchor tethered you from straying too far with your deepest fears. You couldn’t do this without him and, deep down, you hoped he felt the same way about you. Suddenly, everything started to click into place and you knew what you wanted to say. 

You just hoped that you’d be able to find exactly what you were looking for.  

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

“You made it!” Robin exclaimed with a cheery smile. She was quick to envelope you into a tight hug. You had to hide the wince that threatened to be revealed when the hard plastic ornaments sewn into her christmas sweater dug into the fabric of your own top. “Are you ready for a good time?”

“That better not mean beer, Buckley,” you chided.

“‘Course not!” your friend beamed. You couldn’t tell if this was just her natural enthusiasm, or if she had already had a couple drinks too many. “We got something much more festive! Jonathan and Argyle made the eggnog!”

You blinked. With the two California boys in charge of the beverages, this would certainly be an interesting evening. “Jonathan and Argyle…made the eggnog?”

“Yep! It’s actually really good.” Robin held out her mug. “Try it! It’ll warm you up really fast!”

“I’m sure.” As you leant forward to take a small sniff, you were instantly greeted by the stench of way too much bourbon. You were taken aback by the dark-nailed hand of a certain metalhead reaching past you for the cup. 

“Well, if you won’t, I will,” he said, knocking back the remaining liquid down into his throat. “Damn, that’s good.”

“RIGHT?!”

“...okay, Robs,” you said as you reached for her arm. “Let’s get you back inside. Maybe find Nance.”

“She’s with Steve,��� the short-haired girl slurred. “Talkin’ ‘bout something.” Robin gave a vague gesture toward the living room area, where Steve was currently resting against the doorframe talking to Nancy Wheeler. The two of them were laughing, although you noticed Nancy giving a few concerned looks in Robin's direction.

You couldn’t lie, there was a slight twinge of jealousy in your heart as you witnessed the two of them talking again. Logically, you knew they wouldn’t be getting back together. Nancy had moved on years ago–twice actually– and was finally in a stable relationship with herself. Determined to make a name for herself at Emerson, she took on her independence with pride and was loving her experience. She talked so much about the journalism program that Robin decided to apply and would be joining her the following school year as a communications major. 

You and Steve had a bet that it would only be a matter of time before they would eventually end up together. It was almost an arguable match made in heaven. Robin’s nerves combined with Nancy’s determination…there wouldn’t be anything the two couldn’t do. You just hoped that one day they would see it too. 

As the two of you approached them in the living room, you caught Steve giving you the brightest grin. He held out one of the mugs he had been carrying over to you. When you tried to send him a subtle decline, he merely shook his head. “Not spiked,” he called out over the loud Christmas music blasting through the room. “Brought my own stash since I know you don’t like alcohol.”

You gave him a soft smile as you accepted his offering, lifting the drink to your lips. It was smooth and creamy, with those spicy hints of cinnamon and nutmeg. It reminded you of Christmas from the very first sip. The fact that Steve had remembered about your alcohol aversion made you warmer from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. 

“Awww, aren’t they cute?!” you heard Robin whisper dramatically to Nancy. “I can’t wait until they see-”

“Isn’t it time for the secret Santa?” Nancy interrupted the jittery dirty blonde. 

Completely distracted from her previous statement, Robin nodded eagerly. “Oh yeah, that’s right!” she exclaimed. “Can’t forget that! C’mon dinguses.”

As the gift exchange began, you couldn’t help but feel nervous as Steve lifted his gift out of the pile. You had tried to wrap it as neatly as you could, using paper you knew he hadn’t seen at your house before. The whole point of the game was for it to be a secret until the last possible second. How could you possibly eliminate that fun?

When it was your turn to go up, you picked up the package with your name typed– not written– on the card. Someone else seemed very adamant about keeping their identity a secret, too. As you moved back to your seat on the couch, your fingers anxiously fiddled with the neatly tied bow atop the small box. It was beautifully wrapped with blue and white paper, some of your favorite colors. Whoever this person was, they definitely knew you pretty well.

When Robin gave the go ahead, everyone took turns freeing the presents from their papery prisons. You couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped you. Tucked inside the box was a cassette with your name on it. As you flipped it over to read the description, a smile graced your lips. It was a collection of some of your favorite songs. There were small marks next to certain songs, which you didn’t understand. Maybe it was your Secret Santa’s favorite, too. 

Looking around the room, you tried to guess who could have gotten you the gift. You knew it wasn’t Eddie, as he had given Dustin one of his original dungeon master journals. It could have been Robin, but she was more enthused with Jonathan’s present of new patches for her denim jacket. You risked a glance over at Steve to gauge his reaction to his gift and your heart stopped in surprise.

He was staring directly at you.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you and tilted his head toward the front door. Can we talk? his eyes asked in a silent question. 

You nodded and immediately went into the hall to grab your coats, shoving the new tape into the garment’s pocket. As you walked outside onto the front porch, Steve didn’t waste any time with what he wanted to say. 

“It was you,” he questioned. “Wasn’t it? You’re my secret Santa.”

You nodded bashfully. “Look, I get that it’s nothing special, but I thought it could be something different.”

“I love it.” Steve took a few steps closer. “I just…I find it funny that even after all this time, we’re still on the same wavelength.” He pointed to your pocket. “Cyndi Lauper, David Bowie, Joan Jett…”

When you looked at him confused, he gave a small smile. “Those are all your favorites. You listen to them all the time when you’re stressed or you can’t sleep.”

“You’re my secret Santa…” it dawned on you slowly. 

Steve blinked. “You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t expect you to know something like that,” you admitted. With some hesitation, you reached into your coat pocket and held out the tape. “What are-”

“The marks?” he asked. “Oh, yeah, I uh, I was wondering if you were going to ask me about that.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “You uh, sometimes when you’re at work, you hum to yourself. They’re mostly the songs on the tape but, you know. Those in particular…well, I like to hear you sing them.”

You stood there for a moment in silence, eyes searching Steve’s. It was almost as though you were looking at him– truly looking at him– for the first time in your lives. There was something hidden behind his gaze. There was a sparkle in them, almost as if he was laughing about an inside joke only he knew. It was mixed with a flicker of something you hadn’t seen before. Nerves? Sadness? Adoration? 

Steve cleared his throat to break the silence. “And, uh, I wouldn’t mind being able to hear you sing them more.”

“So you made me a tape…to hear me sing karaoke?”

“Not…not exactly,” he stammered. “God, am I really not that obvious?”

Confusion struck you again and you tilted your head in silent question. What was he talking about? Now Steve seemed nervous– something you had never seen him be before in the years you had known him. Steve Harrington had confidence, he was cocky; he didn’t get nervous, especially not around you. “Steve, what are you-”

“I love you,” the three words blurted out of his mouth in such a hurry, you had to blink a few times to process the exclamation. “I love you and I’ve been in love with you for a while now. There isn’t anyone else that knows me like you do, who listens– and I mean truly listens– like you do. You don’t judge me, you don’t make me feel like the idiot I totally am.”

He paused for a moment to take both of your hands in his. “When I’m with you, I don’t have to act anymore. I can be myself around you and know that that’s the person I want to be for the rest of my life. You are the person I want to be around for as long as you’ll have me. I love you.”

With the way he was holding you, your body felt warmer than it would with any festive beverage. You weren’t imagining this, were you? Did Steve, the boy you watched from a distance for so long, just say he loved you? “You’re not- this isn’t-” you stammered. “Is this a dream?”

“No, sweetheart,” Steve whispered softly as he took a step closer to you. “It’s real.”

He cradled one of his hands under your chin, tilting his own face to be near your own. The look he gave you asked if this was okay, and somehow you managed the slightest of nods in response. When he slanted his lips over yours, you immediately began to melt into his embrace. You hadn’t dreamed of this moment before, but it still felt like a fairy tale. It was soft and gentle, everything you could have wanted. 

When you finally broke apart, a smile graced upon your lips. “In case it wasn’t completely obvious,” you said. “I love you, too.”

Steve grinned and pulled you in for another kiss. This one was a bit more heated, but it was just enough. To the two of you, nothing else mattered in that exact moment. All that mattered was that you and him were finally happy and you were happy together. 

“Well it’s about time!!” Robin’s voice called out, forcing the two of you to jump apart from each other. You had been so engrossed in the moment, the two of you hadn’t heard the front door open behind you. “Thought you’d never get together. Now can you guys hurry up and come back inside? It’s almost time to eat.” With a huff and a smile, she closed the door with a solid thud, causing the two of you to start laughing.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” you whispered.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he replied as he pulled you against him once more so you could walk hand-in-hand back to your family.

================

Author's Note: Merry Christmas Eve to my readers who celebrate the holiday. Can you believe we're almost to the end of Stevemas already?! It's been a crazy two weeks and I really hope you all have enjoyed the (basically) daily uploads. This was a really fun fic to write and I have to give a shoutout to @familyvideostevie for the inspiration after seeing the secret Santa prompt on their 12 days of christmas list. Make sure to check out their works because they're amazing!! I also wanted to do something a little different this time around to make my fics more interactive, so I hope you enjoyed listening to the actual mixtape you made for Steve while you read this story! :)

If you enjoyed this fic and want to see more like it on my blog, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend, or reblog this post. Likes are appreciated, but it's these other types of interactions that help to spread the word about my works. Not only that, but it helps me feel motivated to keep writing and posting content. If you're interested in getting updates on the final day of Stevemas or any of my other works, maybe consider giving my blog a cheeky follow. I promise I won't spam you too much with other amazing creators' works! :)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove, @maddipoof

#steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joe keery imagines #joe keery #twelve days of stevemas #ficmas 2022 #frostandflamesfanfic #Spotify

[elareine]

38.“One of these days, you’ll have to stop lying to yourself.” + Soulmates AU + Not actually unrequited love + Jaytim. 😉👍💕

Tim knew who his soulmate was when he was thirteen and his mark burned. 

No, that was a lie. He knew before that; knew when he watched the second Robin jump from roof to roof, knew when he could always follow Batman and Robin through the night just based on a feeling, knew when a boy wearing a mask smiled at him, and the mark on his wrist blossomed into color. 

When Jason Todd died and Tim’s mark was covered in angry, blistering burns—that was just the final bit of proof. Tim had lived years with the knowledge that his soulmate was dead. When that turned out to only be the first half of the truth, things didn’t exactly take a turn for the better.

Jason hadn’t known who he was, precisely, when he’d attacked Tim. That shouldn’t make anything better, Tim knew, but it did. That way, his actions hadn’t been a rejection of their soulbond—of Tim. 

No, that came later. When Jason had to know fully well, had seen Tim’s mark—the ugly remains of it—and had turned away. They had never spoken about it. Four years since Jason came back, and never once had he so much as mentioned it… yeah. Tim could read a rejection as well as anyone, even if he couldn’t check the color of his mark anymore. He knew that if he could, they would be faded. 

To say Tim was handling it well would be a lie. He tried not to let it show, tried not to fiddle with the covering, not to massage the skin, to wistfully stare at other people’s marks, but…

He wasn’t surprised when Jason called him out on it. It had to happen one day. He’d just hoped he would have more time. 

“One of these days, you’ll have to stop lying to yourself.” Jason poked Tim’s arm. 

Tim pulled away as if burned again. “That’s—that’s none of your business.” It was a pathetic reply, and he knew it. 

In response, Jason took off his own glove, pulled back his sleeve, and Tim held his breath because—he hadn’t thought it would be so beautiful. It was a geometric design made out of clear blues and dark reds, and it enveloped most of Jason’s lower arm and the back of his hand. 

The colors were bright enough to hurt. 

“Well, this makes it my business. I don’t know why you don’t just go ahead and reject it,” Jason said. “I thought for years that it was just a fucked-up plan to keep me tethered to the Bats.” 

What? “I would never—“

“No, you wouldn’t.” Jason sounded defeated. “So the only explanations are pity because you can see the colors of your mark, or hope that I will change. And that’s—you need to stop that. I won’t. I’ll never be what you want, so you should just… give up.” 

And that was—Tim didn’t know where to start with that. There were so many things wrong in that statement (Jason was changing, and even he wouldn’t be, Tim had loved him for so long, why would that disappoint him?) but one thing—one thing—so much so that he almost couldn’t believe he’d heard it. 

“Fuck you,” was what he settled on, and then he moved faster than Jason could recoil or slap him or—or do whatever, and took off his own protective covering. 

His left arm was a mess. The burns had healed, but not well. On good days, Tim was able to keep it flexible with regular application of lotion; on bad days, he wanted to tear his skin off. 

(And always, the thought: If that was what Tim’s mark was like, how did Jason feel?) 

Jason was frozen mid-motion, staring at the hand Tim was holding out to him. 

“It was a golden ram,” Tim told him. “Huge horns, looked ready to attack at any point, but its fleece… it was so beautiful.” He swallowed, suddenly close to tears. “The most precious thing I ever owned.” 

In the silence, they both looked at the remains. 

For a moment, Tim thought he could detect the faintest glimmer of gold under the scars. Then it ceased to matter because Jason locked their fingers together and pulled Tim into an embrace so tight and fierce, Tim could do nothing but cling back and finally, finally let the tears fall.  

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispered. “I never meant to hurt you like that.” 

Tim didn’t know if he was talking about the scars or the years of silence or the accusations he’d made just minutes ago. Either way: “I know.” And: “Me neither.” 

Between them, their fingers were still linked, arms pressed together, bright colors against dim red. 

#elareine writes #jaytim

[catxsnow]

AFTER HOURS chapter ten

Summary: Enemies to the public, friends to their close ones, friends with benefits between them. Rival companies and an attraction that can’t be ignored.

Tim Drake x reader

Warnings: swearing, mature content, smut, 18+ only, mention death of parents, car crash mentions.

A/N: The last chapter friends!! Thank you everyone for your love and support with this series I really hope that you all liked it! If anyone one is interested in a bonus chapter or two let me know with some ideas, I’d love to hear what you guys think :) 

Word count: 1.3k 

Tim held a brand new set of keys in his hand. They felt foreign compared to his old ones - yet the weight of them didn't bring him down. They brought excitement, a new chapter of his life was a head of him and he was beyond excited for it. The smile on his face wouldn't go away and neither could the giddy feeling in his chest.

Gotham City found it's saviors not in a bat or a bird, but in two young adults who were always frowned upon for being kids. Tim found his savior in her - she was his rock, his everything. (Y/N) found her hero in Red Robin, in Tim Drake, her lover.

She had taken the news just as he expected her too. Worried at first, amazed that he was the hero on the streets, final able to understand the cuts and bruises that he had all the time and the scars that laced him. After the shock had worn off, she became supportive of him. Always there when he came home and wishing him luck and safety before departure.

(Y/N) understood more that there was to him than ever before after the revelation. She fell even more in love with him - though it didn't feel as if that as possible at this point. Nights of falling asleep in his arms, waking up to him, taking care of each other. They had it all - at least all that mattered.

Tim looked over at her. A smile on her face that matched his, the same weight of a new set of keys in her palm. It we a new chapter for them, one that would lead to many more. With his free hand, he's reached over to grab hers.

"New day," she breathed out.  It was nerve wracking, making such a big purchase like this together. Their first purchase like this together. Something that she never thought she would expect, nor the people of Gotham. "New place."

"How do you feel?"

She felt a lot of things. Scared for their future together. Grateful that they had found themselves in one another. Worried about the life that they're forced to live, not the one that they wanted. Mostly, she felt in love.

This was a big step for them. Something more than a home, more than a relationship. This wasn't just their future together, it's the future of Gotham. They were willing to risk it all for each other.

"Nervous," she decided with. Tim glanced over to her from his stare at their new building. She held a new look in her eyes that he had never seen before. Nervous was right, she never had this. Tim tilted down to kiss her. His lips soft, yet firm against hers. He was nervous too - even though together they had no reason to be nervous.

"We already live together, how much different can this be?" Tim tried to lighten the mood. That smile she loved so much shone brightly on his face. He loved in less than two weeks after she had asked him. Maybe they were moving fast, maybe the people of Gotham questioned where their loyalties lied with their companies.

All she knew, was that these past nine months of living with him had been the most important, grateful months of her life. She had never been so happy since the loss of her parents - and she could tell that he felt the same way. Though found similarity in their sadness, but they were together for the love that they were about to create from it.

She learned to hate the nights that he came home late with cuts and bruises or the times that he had to go away for team business. (Y/N) also came to appreciate the small moments with him, the ones that were filled with quiet whispers and meaningful touches. They learned together, not apart.

"I think buying our first building together as co-companies is a little different than you moving in," she rolled her eyes at him. The new building they stood in front of was the first of potentially many co-projects that her company and WE would accomplish together. They were partners in this, and maybe longer down the line it'll be more permanent.

"You're right, moving in with you was a lot more fun. This time I get Vicki Vale questioning my choices instead of sex in every room of the house," Tim laughed. His hand travelled down her waist and jokingly squeezed her ass. He was lucky no one was around - otherwise he was sure he would have gotten an earful.

The nine months of running with the press, working their companies all while still trying to get the hang of this new relationship idea - it was a lot. Everything with Tim wasn't perfect, and she never expected it to be. They had their fights - most of which were based off of him risking his life, the other half about hard choices they had to make in their companies.

The idea to work together didn't come thankful to everyone. Many people in their city didn't like the idea of the two of them joining their companies on projects like this one. They didn't want to entrust the safety of the city in the hands of a couple who was still in the honeymoon stages of their relationship.

And (Y/N) couldn't blame them. She hated the idea that one day they might break up - but it wasn't a broken heart she was worried about. It was Gotham. They had decided never to join their companies for good - but projects like this? Putting whatever future differences aside to build an orphanage in their parents names?

That meant more than anything else in the world.

"Mmm, baby, I bought your favourite wine to celebrate tonight," She pecked him once more. Her lips ghosted over the lobe of his ear. "But I'm sure I can find lots of other ways to celebrate with you too, if that's what you'd rather."

"You know me so well, my love," Tim grinned. Her hand grazed down his chest, stopping right at his belt buckle. There was no one around to see them - but he had already gotten enough of her hint that she didn't need to risk it. "As much as I'd like to find the nearest empty room, we've got about ten minutes until we have to go talk to the press."

"Ten minutes is all I need, Timmy," she flirted. Her fingers toyed with the buckle once more, though he refused to look down at her actions. He gabbed her hand as she dared to move it lower. An innocent look remained in her eyes - a look that he knew to not be innocent at all.

"Fuck, do I love you," Tim pecked her lips. He intertwined their fingers, dropping them to their sides. "But I'd rather fuck you properly the second we get home."

"Think you can wait that long, Mr. Drake?"

"Mr. Drake today, huh?" he ignored her teasing. Truth was, if he caved into it, he knew that he couldn't wait until getting home to have her. "What about Mrs. Drake one day?" Tim looked over at her. There was no surprise on her face, no disappointment. She had thought about it lots - marrying him one day.

It seemed that it was always in the books for their future. Marriage with Tim... she couldn't imagine herself with anyone else besides him for the rest of her life. He was the one, he was always the one.

"(Y/N) Drake-Wayne," she repeated it. It rolled off the tongue so smoothly that it sounded like it was meant to be. In his eyes, it was. She was always meant to be the one for him, even when she didn't know it herself. "One day, Tim, it sounds absolutely perfect."

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[dollfaced-erin]

Not So New Afterall (Sdv Sebastian x F!Reader)

A/n: Sebastian might be a little OOC, but trauma really turns someone 180 degrees, don’t you agree?

PLUS! I changed a few things in the previous chapter, I’m sorry!! The structure of everyone’s house should differ a little, since we need a bathroom and all--

CHAPTER SIX

A few knocks were heard rapping on his door. Unfamiliar with the rhythm, Sebastian answered “Come in” without a second thought.

Too preoccupied with his computer, he never realized who actually walked in his room. But with the way the visitor remained quiet and respectful, he was sure it wasn’t Sam or Abigail nor his mother. He peeked over his computer and was met with (e/c) eyes before going back to his work.

“Oh, hey. Gimme one sec,” he greeted shortly before increasing his typing speed on the computer, determined to finish his work as soon as possible to talk with the (h/c) girl that had walked in.

After a few minutes of the sound of typing, he spoke up. “Okay,” he breathed out in relief. “Sorry about that. I just needed to finish what I was working on,” he said, leaning and stretching himself on the chair. 

(Y/n) walked over to him, peering at the screen of his computer. Sebastian was clicking on a few options, saving what he was doing.

“What are you working on?” she asked, watching the screen that was incredibly detailed with coding terms. It was really complicated to look at, nowhere near ready to be able to read nor create one of her own. He was truly a master at this.

“I do freelance work as a programmer,” he said before turning his gaze over to the girl. Then, the hand on the mouse stopped clicking. His face turned pale as the memories from last night’s occurrence begin to race his mind once more.

“Sebastian?” asked (Y/n), her smile dropped in confusion.

He didn’t hear her. In her place, he saw the lively younger (Y/n), her (e/c) shining brightly and signature childish smile across her lips. And before his eyes, the perfect image of the girl he once loved was replaced with the gory scene of her accident. Panic began to well in his chest, his breathing began to get irregular, he--

He was stopped by a warm sensation on his cheek. He gasped, his mind becoming clear once more. (Y/n)’s face was painted with an expression of confusion and concern. Her hand was placed on his cheek, softly cupping the soft flesh.

“Sebastian? What’s wrong?” she asked once more, her eyes scanning every inch of his face to get somewhat an answer what was happening. 

Sebastian began to take in his surroundings, taking in that he was safe in his room, the warmth on his face keeping his steady and calm. This wasn’t the past, this was reality. Without realizing, he reached for the warmth on his face without actually knowing what it is, placing his hand on hers.

“Wh-what? How are you still alive?” he whispered out without giving a second to his thoughts. 

Confusion etched onto (Y/n)’s face from the question. “What do you mean?” she asked, herself panicking. Was she supposed to be dead? What happened to him?

“You...the accident. The...the truck. All that blood. How are you still alive?!” he said, his eyes watering. “Don’t you remember? Your scar! I...we....that game! Then...then..” he stammered. He was starting to break down.

“Sebastian! Calm down!” (Y/n) exclaimed, her hands moving to his shoulders. Giving them a tight squeeze, she stared back straight into his eyes. “I’m alive! I’m safe, alright? I’m right here.”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, kneeling down next to him. He was starting to cool down, but his eyes never left hers. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m right here. I’m alive and healthy, aren’t I?” she asked with a soft smile. 

“Yeah,” he said, his breaths getting more even. “But...I need to know,” he said, latching his hands on her wrists that held his shoulders. “Where did you get those scars?” he began to compose himself.

“Like I told you yesterday. I got it from when I was a kid back then,” she said, the small smile never leaving her face. 

“I said where, not when (Y/n),” he said sternly. Sebastian’s grip tightened slightly on the petite maiden’s limbs. They were quite sturdy and stiff from all the farm work, but he bet beneath the long-sleeved (f/c) shirt she wore was two arms beginning to gain biceps, or they were already there.

The (h/c)-haired female visibly gulped. The smile she wore came down, before she looked down in guilt. She let out a sheepish chuckle, a small wistful smile on her lips. 

“I won’t lie nor deny, but I think I understand what you said a moment ago,” she said. “I was--”

“Sebastian?” Robin asked as she came into the room. On instinct, Sebastian let go of (Y/n)’s arms and the latter shot straight up. Both of them awkward at the sudden intrusion of the ginger. 

The said woman walked into the room and looked at her son and the farmer in his room. “Oh, hi (Y/n)!” she chirped cheerfully. “Sebby, I know that you don’t like it when I come in here, but I ran into Abigail at the store and she said she was looking for you,” the older woman said. 

The raven-haired boy groaned a little, already having to go to Sam’s to hang out, and now Abigail? He ran a hand down his face. “Did you tell her I’m working?” he asked. Crush or not, it didn’t matter who it was when he was working.

“I did, but she said she’d probably stop by anyway,” the ginger said, quite sorry for interrupting her son when he was working. Her son sighed. “No one takes my job seriously.”

“No one bothers Maru when she’s working at the clinic...does everyone think I just surf the web all day?” he complained aloud as his mother walked out of the room, leaving the two. Although she had a little thought nagging in her mind when she laid her eyes on the two.

As the ginger left, a notification sound clicks in. He picks up his phone. “Ah, another emergency module needs to be made. Don’t think I’m kicking you out, (Y/n), but apparently I need to get this module done by tomorrow,” he apologized, getting up from his seat.

“We’ll talk more later, okay?” he told her as he easily loomed over her smaller figure. “I come out during evenings to clear my head, so come by then,” he said with a small smile on his lips. “And you can tell me my answer then.”

“Alright then,” (Y/n) said simply. She knew his work wasn’t one to joke with. She was lucky she never wanted to step into the programming world. “I’ll see you then. Good luck and don’t stress out too much, you hear me?” she wished before leaving the room.

Instead of leaving the mountains, (Y/n) figured that she could probably stop by Abigail’s and hang for a while. She took one last glance at the house Robin built, before she was well on her way.

“Mom?” Sebastian called, as he stepped out of his room a few hours later. His mom was looking back at her blueprints, looming at what she could improvise and improve. But from the voice of her son, she raised her head. 

“Yeah? What’s up, honey?” she asked, a bright smile on her face. Her son coming out of his room was a good thing, but for some reason, she felt a little...guilt piling up in her stomach since the past few days.

“Did...(Y/n) come here before?” he asked his mother, but she looked a little confused at his question. “Yeah? I mean, not after she stopped by your room, though,” she answered, although that wasn’t the answer that he wanted.

“No, I meant has she come here before actually moving here?” he rephrased his question, catching his mother off guard. She debated with herself within her own thoughts. What sort of answer should she give him? What good would it be?

But she knew, deep down in her heart she wasn’t able to hide the truth from him forever. Eventually he had to find out. Especially since the girl had moved here.

“Yes...she did,” she answered with a soft smile on her lips, her gaze down.

But it was sooner than she expected.

 “Wh...what happened after the accident?” he asked before Robin pointed to the seat in front of her counter, gesturing her son to take a seat as they went further into this matter. “What happened...?”

“You were terribly shaken up after the accident,” she said, placing a hand on her son’s face, just as (Y/n) had done earlier. “She comes to visit the valley every Fall to stay with her grandfather during the school break. She usually would stay for a few weeks, but it had been cut down to two since some things came up.”

“You were really upset that day, the last day she was here. You were really attached to her, y’know?” she chuckled, quite amused with the way her son used to act around the (h/c)-haired girl. “You would be so shy around her, the two of you holding hands all the time if she wasn’t with Abby.

“So you told me what was bothering you, then I told you to just man up and tell her,” she giggled as she saw her son’s face turn beet red. “But...” she sighed. “It failed horribly, don’t you think?

“When you were sent to the hospital, we tailed along with Pam in her bus, right behind the ambulance. We were parted when you were taken into the ER, with all your friends. But when I came to see you, you...had another look in your eyes. You were really....unresponsive from the accident.

“When I saw the blood and little (Y/n) on the ground, I froze in place. I couldn’t imagine how it must’ve been for you, when you witnessed it first hand,” the mother said. “You were so closed off and reserved after that. And...at the hospital, (Y/n)’s parents fought with all of us, but (Y/n) intervened before things got worse. The fight had let you to hate adults, and that was right after an accident. You were burdened wit trauma and distress, and I only had myself to blame.”

“Soon after, you all never remembered (Y/n). But you all grew up with the unrealizing trauma that had been locked in your mind. It’s like...you grew up differently because of the trauma, but you never knew about the trauma. But you did see things differently after without realizing it,” the ginger said, perking the interest of her son.

“You had grown to love frogs because both of you were stuck Leah’s house, way before she moved in. There was an injured frog and the both of you brought it to her grandfather. Those were one of the little things that you had forgotten, because you had sealed all your memories of her unconsciously,” Robin explained, as her son looked at the wooden counter, taking in all the information.

“Then....if I said I liked Abby...” he began, slightly cringing at his question. “You had replaced (Y/n) with Abby in your mind, since she was closest to her. But you never have forgotten her now, have you?” she asked her son.

Evening rolled by and Sebastian stepped out of his house at 6:30 like he did everyday. And as he promised, he was waiting for (Y/n) by the lake. He thought about the words he was going to say to her and the questions he was going to ask when she got here.

“Now that she’s here, what do I do?” he asked his mother, making her chuckle. ”Do you still like her?”

‘Where is she?’ he thought. If she was anything like when she was younger, she would always be on time. She was never late for a promise, but if she had inevitable matters then it wouldn’t hurt to wait a few moments, right?

Sebastian nodded slightly with a burning red face. His eyes looking down at the wooden counter to avert from coming in contact with his mom’s bright green own. But the chuckle that escaped his mother’s lips only shamed him further.

After taking out a cigarette from the box, he proceeded to fish his lighter. But when he got that out, he saw the slow movements of (h/c) crawling out of the mines.

“I’m not sure if...she knew what happened during that timeline, but if she doesn’t, don’t pressure her to remember, alright?”

Sebastian’s lighter fell out of his hand, dropping straight into the lake. His dark eyes raised to look at the figure trudging out of the dark caverns.

“But if you’re sure it won’t hurt her,”

It was a girl with messy and disheveled (h/c)-hair, trailing down her (b/p). Her (s/c) face had reverted to a pale shade and her (e/c) eyes were quite dull and exhausted, as if she were to pass out any second. But what pulled his attention the most...

“Tell her how you truly feel, Sebby!”

Was the huge triple-gash that had scrapped itself on her right side, blood dripping heavily from the wound.

“(Y/N)!!!”

The dark-haired male ran over to the said female, catching her in his arms before she could collapse forward. He pulled her back so that she was leaning on his arm on her back.

She had passed out cold, scratches he didn’t see earlier revealed to be littering her face without any mercy. There was a larger one beneath her eye. He had no time for this. The amount of blood she was bleeding was immense. And he had to do something about it before sending her to Harvey,

Or it’ll be too late...

He had no time for pessimistic thoughts. She was going to survive. She was going to LIVE! He had to think fast. He placed her on the ground carefully before taking off his hoodie, thanking Yoba he was wearing a white shirt beneath. He wrapped the dark-colored material around the unconscious girl’s abdomen, tying the arms of the shirt on the opposite area of the injury.

Sebastian hoisted (Y/n) once more in his arms, resting her head on his right arm to avoid the injury colliding with his abdomen as he lifted her. Feeling her on his bare skin, he realized how cold she was. Did she go into the colder parts of the mines in this thin shirt? Without proper warming, her movement must’ve slowed incredibly if she was able to get such injuries.

He knew he had no time to run down to Harvey’s. He wasn’t even sure if the doctor was even in the house! He had to settle for the second best option, as much as he hated it. Sebastian grit his teeth before running back to his house.

He knocked on the door, since his hands were occupied with the girl in his hold. Luckily his mother hadn’t stepped out of the house yet since she needed to clean up somethings before she headed out. 

Hearing the knock, Robin opened the door, green eyes wide with fright at the figure her son was holding. “Is Maru home?” Sebastian huffed out as he stepped into the wooden building.

“No, but she should be on her way home,” Robin said rushing right behind him. “I’ll go get her and Harvey, you bring her to your room,” the ginger said before she left to find her daughter.

“Damnit, (Y/n)! Why must you always be so darn injured?!” he huffed at the unconscious girl. He placed her on his soft mattress and held her soft but cold right hand.

“I won’t let you go this time,” Sebastian promised, taking off her backpack to let her be more comfortable. He placed it next to his table, grabbing his chair and sat right next to the girl, tightening the shirt around her before taking her slim hand back into his.

“Please, please just hang in there. They’ll be here anytime soon...” he whispered, drawing circles onto the back on her hand using his thumb. As if on cue, the door burst open and thundering of feet was heard before the door to his room was thrown open.

There, stood Maru and Harvey, quite out of breath from running, and behind them was a panicking Robin. 

“Maru...” Sebastian whispered, feeling relieved for the first time to see his sister. But his sister’s expression turned into horror as she and Harvey ran down to the pale girl.

Harvey took one look at (Y/n) before nodding to Maru.

“We need to perform an emergency surgery on her.”

#stardew-valley-x-reader #sdv sebastian #stardew valley #sebastian (stardew valley) #sebastianxreader #sebastian x reader #reader insert #female farmer #stardew sebastian

[hafanforever]

Tyrant Terror

So I know it’s no surprise to my closest friends and fellow Disney fans on Tumblr that I have a strong, deep affinity for villains, including those by Disney. And over the last several months, the more I wrote about King Runeard in my Frozen II analyses, the more I realized what made him a tyrant, albeit a secret one, and that led me to think about other villains in the Disney animated canon who were tyrants.

The thing is, while most historical tyrants were people of royalty, you don’t necessarily have to be a monarch in order to be a tyrant. The definition of a tyrant isn’t limited to being a KING or QUEEN who is openly cruel, hostile, harsh, uncaring, oppressive, persecuting, and unjust towards the people they rule. I mean, that is one way to express tyranny, and probably the most famous way it is and has been done. But what it really means for a person to be called a tyrant is being in a position of power, authority, and/or control over other people and MISUSING, to the point of ABUSING, that position, and often for that tyrant's own selfish desires rather than in the best interest of the people being ruled by the tyrant.

So from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to Frozen II, there are a handful of tyrannical antagonists who are indeed monarchs, such as the Queen of Hearts, Prince John, and Scar, but also plenty others who are not. There are tyrants who are corrupt government officials, such as Governor Ratcliffe, Frollo, and Bellwether, and even those who wield magic, such as Maleficent, Ursula, and Jafar. And like the villainous monarchs, the non-monarch villains prove themselves as tyrants all because they abuse their positions of power, magic or non-magic power, and authority that they have over other characters. In fact, there are even a couple of heroic characters who start off more as protagonist villains because they display tyrannical behavior before they become better people. On the contrary, the main antagonist enemies of these tyrant heroes serve as darker reflections of what the latter characters could have become had they not learned the error of their ways.

Below is my list of all the villains from Walt Disney Animation Studios that I perceive as tyrants, from monarchs to government officials to sorcerers, and what scenes in their respective movies depict them displaying tyrannical behavior. I even listed villains that would have become tyrants had they succeeded in their longterm goals.

Monarchs

The Evil Queen: Though we never see her actively governing her kingdom on screen, the abuse that the evil queen displays in her authority over Snow White by dressing her stepdaughter in rags and forcing her to work as a maid in an attempt to make her (Snow White) unattractive makes her a tyrant for sure. Furthermore, the way she mocks the skeletal remains of a prisoner in her dungeon suggests the queen is indeed a cruel, tyrannical ruler.

Queen of Hearts: If we want to consider the epitome of a true tyrant that is a monarch from Disney, it can be safely assumed that that role belongs to the Queen of Hearts. While every resident of Wonderland is insane in some way, the Queen is the most dangerous one of all by being the ruler of the land. An egotist extraordinaire, she loves to get her way, insisting that “All ways are MY ways!” and enjoys hearing the words “Yes, Your Majesty”. The Queen outwardly abuses her authority and power over her subjects by becoming furious over even the smallest of matters, during which she loses her literally explosive temper and flies into violent rages. She is also extremely irrational and unjust in making decisions, primarily by utilizing executions as her only and immediate solution to any problem, especially whenever she feels someone has wronged her, while also refusing to let the individuals she wants beheaded explain their sides of the stories. Enraged upon seeing her white roses painted red, when she misses a shot in croquet, and when she becomes the target of a prank caused by the Cheshire Cat, the Queen sentences those she deems responsible to death by beheading. All of this proves just how much she persecutes and oppresses the residents of Wonderland, instilling only fear and intimidation into their hearts. (A pun that is VERY much intended by me, the Queen of Puns! 😆😆😆)

Prince John: While possessing a short temper that isn’t nearly as explosive and violent as that of the Queen of Hearts, Prince John is displayed to be extremely incompetent as the ruler of England during the time that King Richard is off fighting in the Crusades. Stingy and greedy, the prince continually finds ways to rob and swindle his people in pursuit of wealth for himself. John shows absolutely no care that the harsh laws he decrees to gain more money drive the citizens of Nottingham into poverty and starvation, and he even cruelly mocks them on their poor states by saying, “Rob the poor to feed the rich!”. After the villagers start making fun of him with the song “The Phony King of England”, John punishes them by further increasing the tax payments. Soon everyone in Nottingham is stripped of their money and they are put in prison due to their inability to pay their taxes.

Horned King: Even though the Queen of Hearts projects herself as the ideal example of a royal tyrant, she is far less evil and scary than the Horned King. A skeletal creature with green, rotting flesh, the Horned King is completely frightening in appearance and in personality. Malicious, cruel, malevolent, sinister, power-hungry, megalomaniacal, ruthless, and merciless, he is the epitome of a tyrant who is nothing but purely and completely evil. His goal is to find the infamous Black Cauldron and use its powers to unleash an army of immortal warriors called the Cauldron Born in order to become immortal and conquer the world.

Scar: Denied a legitimate chance to succeed Mufasa as the King of the Pride Lands once Simba is born, Scar schemes to have both of them killed to become king. After murdering Mufasa and believing that Simba has been killed as well, Scar ascends to the throne. However, because he allows the hyenas unrestricted hunting rights in the Pride Lands, their overeating leads to a shortage of food, and a drought leads to other animal herds moving away. Ultimately, these events turn the kingdom into a barren wasteland under Scar’s reign, leaving it completely devoid of green vegetation, water, and food sources. Incredibly lazy and incompetent as a ruler, and caring about nothing except the power and authority that being king gives him, Scar refuses to accept that his allowance of the hyenas overeating is what leads to the destruction of the Pride Lands. He instead blames it on Sarabi and the other lionesses since the hyenas complained to him that they refuse to go hunt. When she suggests they leave Pride Rock to survive, Scar obstinately rejects the idea, not at all caring that he has essentially sentenced them to death. He argues that his place as king puts him in the right for whatever he decides to do: “I am the king! I can do whatever I want!”

King Runeard: In his life, Runeard openly presented himself as a peaceful, generous leader to the people of Arendelle AND the Northuldra. But Elsa discovers from his snowy manifestation in Ahtohallan that he did not trust the Northuldra just because they followed magic. Despite his kingdom having seen him as a benevolent ruler, the face the figure of Runeard makes as he sneers "of a king!" implies that only really cared about himself as well the power and authority he had in being a king. Therefore, he secretly misused and abused it whenever the opportunity came along. This is displayed perfectly when Runeard had the dam constructed in the Enchanted Forest, presenting it as a gift to the Northuldra. He claimed that it would strengthen their land, but admitted only to the second-in-command that the dam’s effects would be just the opposite. This was all part of Runeard’s subtle plan to destroy the Northuldra, as he feared they would try to usurp him and take over Arendelle using their magical ties.

Government Officials/Authority Figures

Lady Tremaine: Like the evil queen before her, Lady Tremaine has control and authority over Cinderella once the latter’s father dies, and misuses it by turning Cinderella into her servant. Day after day for ten years, Lady Tremaine orders and bosses Cinderella around, forces her to do every single bit of housework and menial task for her and the former’s daughters, and subjects the poor girl to an endless cycle of abuse and torment. When Cinderella is accused by Anastasia of putting Gus under the latter’s teacup, her stepmother refuses to let her explain the truth and unfairly punishes her with extra chores. Later, Lady Tremaine falsely promises Cinderella she may attend the ball if she finds a suitable dress and finishes her chores, but gives her chore after chore to do to keep her from working on her dress. After Cinderella appears wearing the dress her mouse and bird friends fixed up for her, Lady Tremaine subtly and cruelly manipulates Drizella and Anastasia into destroying it so that she can appear to be fair in her side of the bargain (”If you can find something suitable to wear”) while simultaneously keeping Cinderella from going to the ball in the first place. The following morning, when she realizes Cinderella was the mysterious girl who danced with the prince at the ball, Lady Tremaine follows her stepdaughter up to her room and locks her in to prevent her from trying on the glass slipper when the Duke arrives with it.

Sheriff of Nottingham: Despite not being the main antagonist of Robin Hood, the Sheriff of Nottingham is as much of a tyrant over the town as Prince John is to it and the entirety of England. This is because he is abusive, ruthless, and completely unsympathetic towards the people’s poverty and continually demands that they pay their taxes, regardless of what other problems they may have that hinders them from doing so. It is because of the Sheriff’s harsh decree of taxes, and then by that of Prince John once the latter takes up residence in Nottingham, that the town’s citizens are driven into poverty. The cruel, immoral way the Sheriff collects taxes includes forcing out the coins Otto had hidden in his leg cast, not caring that his act was causing the blacksmith pain from his broken leg, confiscating the one farthing Skippy had been given for his birthday and insincerely wishing him a happy birthday, and taking the single farthing that was in the Friar Tuck’s church's poor box and laughing as he did it.

Ratigan: A notorious crime lord, Ratigan is the leader of a gang of thugs comprised primarily of mice, but also including a bat named Fidget, who is his second-in-command. Although they willingly help their boss with his crimes, they also participate out of fear for their own lives. Ratigan is an abusive tyrant to his minions and threatens to feed them to his cat Felicia if they ever do something that angers him, even if it occurs unintentionally. This is shown after one of his drunken thugs calls him a rat during "The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind”, and Ratigan threatens his other minions with the same fate if they do not keep singing. Ratigan’s latest scheme is to take over London by murdering the Mouse Queen during her Diamond Jubilee celebration and secretly replacing her with a lifelike robot. He and his thugs (who are disguised as royal guards) infiltrate Buckingham Palace and kidnap the Queen, who is taken to be fed to Felicia by Fidget. As the Diamond Jubilee takes place, the Robot Queen names Ratigan as her new "Royal Consort", and Ratigan, dressed in an ornate robe, immediately presents himself in front of the gathered citizens of Mousedom, terrifying them. He then proceeds to read over his long list of tyrannical laws, one of which is a heavy tax policy for people he deems "parasites", including the elderly, infirm, and children.

Governor Ratcliffe: A completely unscrupulous and greedy man, Ratcliffe leads John Smith and other sailors on an expedition to Virginia to find gold, but he secretly plans to keep all discovered riches for himself. Upon their arrival to America, he forces all of the settlers to dig around their encampment, but refuses to do any manual labor himself out of his own sheer laziness. When no gold turns up in the searches, Ratcliffe becomes greedily convinced that it is because the Native Americans are hoarding it. He refuses to believe John's claim that there is no gold around the land, claiming that the Powhatans’ land is his land for the taking and that he makes the laws. After John is captured by the Powhatans, as they believed he murdered Kocoum, Ratcliffe takes it as the opportunity to take the non-existent gold from them, but claiming to his men that it is a rescue mission.

Judge Claude Frollo: Perhaps the darkest and most malevolent of all Disney Villains in animation (aside from the Horned King), Frollo uses his position as the Minister of Justice in the city of Paris to enrich himself and persecute anyone and everyone he considers inferior. He especially holds a deep-seated hatred for the gypsies and plots to eradicate them from the city. Despite his dark deeds, Frollo refuses to find any fault within himself and he truly believes he is a good person who is only trying to rid the world of sin and malice. Any time he commits a crime or is about to do one, he makes excuses to justify them, saying he is doing it in the eyes of God and that his victims are the ones who are really at fault. After chasing and murdering Quasimodo’s mother since he believed that the bundle she was carrying was stolen goods, Frollo attempts to murder Quasimodo since he believes the latter’s deformity makes him an unholy demon. Years later, after trapping Esmeralda in Notre Dame and upon discovering that she has escaped, he launches a ruthless manhunt around the city to find her, burning down the houses of anyone suspected of sheltering gypsies (including an innocent miller and his family, who survive thanks to Phoebus’s intervention) and interrogating gypsies who are captured. During the climax, Frollo makes the excuse that Esmeralda has proven herself to be a witch and will be executed by burned at the stake as her sentence.

Hades: The reluctant ruler of the Underworld and Lord of the Dead, Hades abuses his authoritative role by subjecting his lackeys Pain and Panic to harsh mistreatment whenever they fail a task assigned to them and any other time they do or say something that angers their boss. The two imps only put up with Hades’s abuse not so much out of loyalty to him, but out of deep fear for him. When he discovers that the two did not succeed in killing Hercules as a baby, Hades furiously grabs both Pain and Panic by their necks and chokes them as he demands they explain themselves. Later, after Hercules becomes a famous hero in Thebes, Pain and Panic adorn themselves with some of the hero’s merchandise, much to their boss’s complete ire.

Shan Yu: The ruthless yet respected leader of the Hun army, Shan Yu is an extremely dark, merciless, and dangerous individual determined to take control of China. His thought-to-be impossible feat of getting through the Great Wall to invade China soon makes him notorious and feared throughout the entire country. In his journey to the Imperial City, Shan Yu and his army destroy one village, then slaughter the entire Imperial Army and residents in another village at the Tung Shao Pass in the mountains. He and five of his elite soldiers are the only ones who survive a snow avalanche caused by Mulan. When the group arrives at the Imperial City and take control of the palace, Shan Yu orders the Emperor to bow to him, and decides to kill him when the latter adamantly refuses to do so.

Turbo: Initially believed to be the ruler of the game Sugar Rush, King Candy is secretly Turbo, a racer from the old game TurboTime who was believed to have died after his game was permanently unplugged. Having stolen the throne from Vanellope Von Schweetz, the true ruler, Turbo turns her into a glitch and makes himself the ruler of her kingdom. While he is viewed as eccentric and flamboyant, yet jovial and benevolent, to his subjects, Turbo is extremely obsessive and possessive of his new royal status. He continuously lusts for power and authority and goes to great lengths to secretly abuse his position, not just by allowing the other racers to ruthlessly torment Vanellope, but especially by keeping Vanellope from racing so that she cannot regain the role he had stolen from her.

Bellwether: The epitome of the famous phrase “a wolf in sheep’s clothing”, Dawn Bellwether pretends to be sweet, meek, and friendly to successfully hide her true prejudiced, ruthless, embittered nature. Initially the overworked assistant mayor of Zootopia to its mayor Leodore Lionheart, Bellwether secretly hates him and all predators, viewing them as nothing more than savage, dangerous monsters. In her scheme to overthrow him, take control of the city, and drive all predators out of Zootopia, Bellwether becomes the leader of a secret organization of sheep terrorists who create a serum from night howlers to turn predators feral. This would give the illusion that they were biologically reverting back to their "primitive savage ways" and eventually be regarded as too dangerous for society, allowing only prey animals to take up the entire population. However, in her goal to become the mayor of Zootopia, rather than subjecting Lionheart to becoming savage, Bellwether instead develops her plot to ensure that he is removed from office and his positive reputation amongst the citizens is ruined, allowing her to rise to power in his place.

Magic Users

Maleficent: Known as The Mistress of All Evil, Maleficent is a ruthless tyrant who rules her own subjects at her home, the Forbidden Mountain. Using her dark magic, she continuously abuses her power and authority over her minions, particularly whenever they display incompetence and stupidity. This is shown when Maleficent flies into a rage and attacks them with her magic upon realizing that, over the last 16 years in their search for Aurora, they were only looking for a baby, not realizing in their idiocy that Aurora would be growing up.

Ursula: Known for her dark reputation as a sea witch, Ursula was banished from Atlantica by Triton. She explains in “Poor Unfortunate Souls” that she uses her magic to help merfolk attain their deepest desires and only imprisons them if they can’t keep their side of the bargain. However, after she takes Ariel’s voice away and turns the latter into a human to try and win Eric’s heart, Ursula reveals she has no intention of letting Ariel follow through with kissing Eric to remain human. She proves herself to be a tyrant because all she really does is backstab the merpeople with whom she makes deals in order to ensure that only HER desires are met! When she bargains with Triton so he will surrender himself to her in exchange for Ariel’s freedom, Ursula steals his crown and trident, then grows to giant size, declaring herself the ruler of the entire ocean.

Jafar: Unbeknownst to the Sultan of Agrabah, his Royal Vizier Jafar plots to take control of the kingdom, and he needs the Genie of the lamp from the Cave of Wonders to pull off this feat. Once the lamp is in his possession, Jafar succeeds with his first to become sultan. But after Jasmine and her father refuse to bow to him, he wishes to become the most powerful sorcerer in the world to have an even greater amount of power. During his brief reign, Jafar proves himself to be a tyrant by turning Agrabah into a dystopian wasteland, dressing the Sultan as a living marionette and allowing him to be abused by Iago, and making Jasmine his own slave girl.

Tyrants-Turned-Heroes

The Beast: From the time he is cursed and until he finally starts to soften, the spoiled behavior the prince had before his curse remains. He is aggressive, rude, impatient, and frequently and easily loses his temper when something annoys or irritates him. Primarily due to his short temper, the Beast acts like a tyrant towards his servants because he is mean and cruel to them as he gives them orders, which makes them deeply afraid of him. Only on some occasions do they openly rebel against him or talk back to him, such as Mrs. Potts ordering the Beast to act more like a gentleman around Belle, and both her and Lumiere deciding to feed Belle despite being told that she was not allowed to eat unless she ate with the Beast.

Kuzco: In the beginning, Kuzco is very arrogant, lazy, selfish, and self-absorbed, viewing himself as superior to all simply for being the emperor. He rules his empire completely without the best interest of his people and always seeks to have his way, never showing any concern over the chances things could turn out badly for other people involved. This is shown when he sets his sights on building his summer home of Kuzcotopia on the top of the hill where Pacha, Pacha’s family, and other villagers reside. Since the plan will only benefit himself, Kuzco shows absolutely no care or concern that destroying Pacha’s village to build Kuzcotopia will render the residents homeless.

Would-Be Tyrants

Gaston: From what I described about him in “Bride and Prejudice” with his growing obsession with Belle and his low, inferior views of women, there is no doubt in my mind that, had Gaston succeeded in marrying Belle and starting a family with her, he would have run his household like a tyrant. He would be very controlling to the point of being physically abusive to his wife in order to get her to obey every single one of his commands and orders. Like many of the tyrants I listed above, Gaston would undoubtedly use fear and intimidation to keep his wife in her proper place of being beneath him, and he would instill these same feelings on to his own children.

Yzma: Her ire drawn after Kuzco remorselessly fires her, a furious Yzma decides to kill him so that she can take over the empire. While Kuzco is initially selfish, callous, and uncaring towards his staff and people living in his empire, he learns to change his ways by the end of the film. Had Yzma succeeded in her goal, she would have been far more of a selfish, ruthless tyrant than Kuzco was at first. This is evident during her introduction scene, which is one of many times she governs the empire whenever Kuzco is not present. As a peasant complains to her that he and his family are suffering from limited food sources, Yzma spitefully says his problem is of no concern to her, and that the man should have realized this ahead of time.

Hans: While taking over as temporary ruler of Arendelle in both Elsa and Anna’s absence, Hans wins the hearts of the people by acting as a kind, caring, benevolent ruler during the harsh conditions brought on by Elsa’s magical winter. Though he reveals his true, dark nature to Anna and his plot to take control of Arendelle, the fact that he earned the trust and respect of the Arendellians suggest that Hans could truly have been a very worthy ruler. However, now that we have Frozen II and it revealed that Runeard was actually a malevolent tyrant behind the same kind of benevolent facade that Hans used, there is no doubt in my mind that had he succeeded in stealing Arendelle’s throne, Hans also would have become a ruthless, power-hungry, selfish tyrant in secret.

#Miscellaneous Disney #Disney #Disney Villains #Disney Villain #villains #villain #tyranny #tyrants #tyrant #The Evil Queen #Queen of Hearts #Prince John #Horned King #Scar #King Runeard #Lady Tremaine #Sheriff of Nottingham #Ratigan #Governor Ratcliffe #Judge Claude Frollo #Hades #Shan Yu #Turbo #Bellwether #Maleficent #Ursula #Jafar #my stuff #mine

[elowenp]

New fic: Creation Is A Curse

Word count: 1,315

Summary: “I could stop.” Bruce whispers, voice cracking. “I could stop making soldiers and turn them back into children.”

Alfred sighs, the frown lines on his face deepening with grief. “They would never survive it.”

Bruce knows it’s true. First himself, then the Joker and now his children. An aptitude for creating monsters has always been Batman’s greatest curse.

~

Fic under the cut

“You know I still love you, right?” Dick says. It’s not what Bruce had been expecting. At Bruce’s apparent surprise Dick rushes to correct himself. “Don’t get me wrong, I hate you. Sometimes I hate you so much that I don’t understand how I can still love you at all. But I do still love you.”

Bruce looks at him. He’s never been an emotional man and he doubts he’ll ever understand how Dick manages to stay one in their line of work. “I don’t know how you can fit so many feelings about me inside you.” he says.

Dick lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “You created me. How could I not?”

He says it like it’s obvious.

The fact that Bruce understands him completely makes it too painful to look at Dick for a moment so he turns to Tim, utterly focused on his training in the centre of the cave. It makes him think of other, potentially more painful things. “You don’t think I should make another Robin. Do you?”

Dick joins Bruce in looking over to where Tim’s training. The set of his jaw is determined and there are still specks of blood on his face from patrol. “You already have.” he says, the bite of grief colouring his tone.

Bruce wishes that Dick had given a different answer. His disappointment must show on his face because Dick turns to him and smirks, something mean in his expression.

“Don’t look so glum. I might even forgive you one day.”

He says it jokingly. Bruce prays for a moment that it’s the truth.

~

Jason is back. Jason is back.

Jason is back and he’s the Red Hood and his new favourite hobby is trying to convince Bruce just how much he hates him. As if Bruce doesn’t already know.

Jason is holding a gun to a man’s head. It’s a bad man, a man who has caused grief and suffering and hurt people in ways beyond what Bruce finds acceptable. But Jason has a gun to the man’s head and for some twisted reason that means that Bruce thinks the man is deserving of his protection.

The moment Bruce has processed all that, the moment that Jason can see that he’s processed all that, the trigger is pulled and the man drops dead.

“You did that.” Jason says with utter conviction. “You killed that man. I pulled the trigger but I’m only a monster because it’s what you made me.”

Jason is either far more or far less the man he was shaping up to be before he died. Bruce can’t quite tell which.

“I know.” he says, instead of any of that, “I know.”

~

An assassin has a knife at Bruce’s throat and for a moment he thinks that he’s going to die. Then he feels the spray of blood that isn’t his and the body behind him drops to the floor.

He turns to see Cassandra plucking the knife from the hands of the corpse she just made.

“I thought you didn’t kill any more.” he says, voice hoarse.

She shrugs. “Sometimes it’s necessary.”

“Did the League teach you that?” Bruce asks, hating the way disapproval colours his tone.

Cass looks up from the corpse and Bruce sees the frown of confusion between her eyes. “No. You.”

She disappears into the night before Bruce can say anything else.

~

Dick is a more dangerous man than anyone comprehends. Jason’s body count is rising by the day. Cassandra is training in Hong Kong to turn herself into an even better weapon than the League could. Stephanie grows more driven every moment, more set on becoming every bit as dangerous as she has the potential to be. The people Tim loves keep dying and it’s put a darkness in his eyes.

“How do you love creatures so vicious?” Talia asks.

“I doubt I could love anything else these days.” Bruce replies.

Talia hums. The clever part of Bruce’s mind thinks that he might have given her the answer she was looking for.

It worries him more deeply than he would like to admit.

~

“Sometimes I wonder if I would be a better person now if I had never been Robin.”

“I imagine that you would have spent that time with Barbara. So probably.”

Steph looks at him like she’s waiting for him to get angry. She should know better by now. For Bruce to get angry at his kids is an exercise in futility these days, it’s like getting angry at a concept.

She turns away and huffs. “I can’t believe I let you get your feelers in me. I saw how you changed Tim and I still didn’t realise that you can’t talk to a kid without twisting it into a weapon.” Bruce shoots a look at her and she shrugs, like her musings aren’t a dagger in his heart. “Welp. Guess that one’s on me.”

“Yeah.” Bruce lies. What else is he meant to say?

~

Bruce can’t stop looking at the scar on Tim’s neck. The one he got when a person Bruce created and still loves as fervently as ever decided that a grave would be a better home for him than the manor.

“Does it bother you,” he asks, “That I might be making you into him?”

Tim thinks for a moment. “Only when I’m mourning him.”

“And when’s that?”

He smiles, sad. “All the time, of course. Isn’t it the same for you?”

“Of course.” They grow silent for a moment before Bruce plucks up the courage to ask the question he really wants the answer to. “Does it scare you? That one day you might be someone’s monster.”

Bruce didn’t expect Tim to start laughing, but he does. Deep and whole and uncommon from him these days. Like Bruce just told a joke and hasn’t realised it yet. “Don’t you get it Bruce?” he asks once the laughter’s died down and become a little more manageable. Something about Tim’s expression is inherently wrong and Bruce feels his guard go up but Tim is too amused to notice. “I already am. I’m your monster. We’re all your monsters. You’re Doctor Frankenstein and, instead of sewing together bits of corpses, you’ve found children full of holes and stitched pieces of yourself to them rather than letting them grow.”

“What-” Bruce croaks. Something in his expression must look utterly horrified because Tim’s eyes widen and the good humour drains from his face.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” he says, as if Bruce could possibly have taken that any other way. “I just- Don’t we scare you?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Wait, really?” Tim looks shocked, like Bruce just upended one of his most basic understandings in life.

Bruce worries that he has.

They don’t talk much for the rest of patrol. Both of them have too much to think about.

~

Bruce has a son.

There’s a boy who Bruce has never touched but is made from his flesh and bone and apparently that’s enough because he’s already as deadly as any of Bruce’s other children. It makes him feel sick so he leaps onto the idea that this is the League’s fault, that for once it isn’t on Bruce that a child has been broken and the remains have too many sharp edges.

“I didn’t make you. The League made you.” he says, clinging to a fantasy.

Damian huffs out a breath of annoyance. “Unmake me then.” he scoffs, “Tear me apart and shape me into something more like them.”

Make me into another of your monsters, he doesn’t say.

The ‘no’ is in Bruce’s mouth. He can taste the word, feel his tongue curling around the shape of it. But Bruce has done this far too many times to stop now and making monsters is all he knows.

“Okay.” he says instead.

The cycle continues.

#batman #writing #fic rec #dc #batman fic rec #angst #everyone's v v ooc in this #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #cassandra cain #jason todd #stephanie brown #damian wayne #be warned this is incredibly sad

[anarchist-billy]

Thigh fucking, you say? pt. 2

At the suggestion of @tracy7307, I’ve put together what I’m sure is not a comprehensive list of fics that feature the highly underrated sex act otherwise referred to as Intercrural.

I’ve split this into two parts - Part 1 contains all fics under 5k, and below you can find all fics over 5k.

Bottom Steve/Billy connotes whose thighs are being fucked.

Be Okay by XxmerthurcatxX

5.7k - Bottom Billy

Billy finds himself on a date with King Steve himself. It's been ten years since Billy high tailed it out of Hawkins and never thought he'd get a second chance with the boy he could never forget.

sweet to taste (saccharine) by OurLadyofPerpetualWallfflowers

6.2k - Bottom Billy

Billy wanders into the woods to beat the summer heat.

Steve goes into the woods to beat some monsters.

They wind up with an entirely different situation to beat.

Steve Is Too Nice For This Fetish by 3_idiots

6.1k - Bottom Billy

“Uh,” Steve paused. Sexy but mean, sexy but mean--”You’re a… dirty boy.” Billy groaned in the oh-dear-shit-why-way instead of the oh-baby-yes-way and flopped his head down onto Steve’s shoulder. **** Billy has a humiliation kink, Steve is trying.

Paper Bag by mrharringtons

6.6k - Bottom Billy

Billy almost crashes his car, finds an abandoned kitten, and ends up raising it with Steve. -

It's a little life in his hands. And the small twisting, nagging feeling itching beneath his skin is the same as the one that made him pick up that bag in the woods in the first place.

"I know you're not a bad guy, Billy," Harrington mutters, like he's been thinking about it. Billy expects to meet his eyes, but Harrington is looking at the cat. "She can stay here no problem. She's yours. I'm just helping out."

"Why?"

Harrington shrugs. Knocks a knuckle against Billy’s knee. Like that was normal.

"I like helping. Makes me feel good. Like I'm doing something meaningful with my life. Kind of the only thing I'm good at."

get my love caught by Highsmith (quimtessence)

7.1k - Bottom Steve

"Listen," Hargrove says. The tone has Steve reflexively snapping to attention. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee, or, like, a hot beverage of your choice?"

Steve should say no. He's about to say no.

He doesn't say no.

(Or, Steve and Billy meet again, after four years.)

don't want you to get it on (with nobody else but me) by brawlite​ & ToAStranger

8.5k - Bottom Steve

It all starts with a game. Two truths and a lie.

Billy's not sure how it got them here, his hands around Steve's wrists, pinning him to their door, his thigh wedged between Steve's as they pant into each other's mouths.

Earlier, they had been at a party.

Press Your Space Face Close to Mine, Love by moonflowers

8.5k - Bottom Billy

Hargrove looked about as sour as usual, brow furrowed as he glared at the kids, hair mussed from the standard issue helmet that came with the suit. Steve couldn't shake the thought that Billy had somehow heard his thoughts about how fucking glad he was that they weren't stuck on the same ship, and torn his way across space purely to piss him off. Honestly, he wouldn’t put it past him. He must have felt Steve staring at him, because his attention snapped up, locking on to Steve with his usual unwavering intensity. He looked about as pleased to see Steve as Steve was to see him.

Paint it, red by CeruleanHeart

8.6k - Bottom Steve

"That's a pretty color..." Billy repeated and stepped closer, crowding Steve against the door "... for a pretty boy."

Steve and Billy run into each other behind the arcade. When Steve mixes up his lighter with a lipstick Nancy forgot at his place, Billy decides to mess with him a little bit. After all, what's prettier than a pretty boy with red, red lips?

But as usual when Steve and Billy meet things escalate, only this time in an entirely different way. And soon Steve discovers a new, darker side of himself that's both alluring and unsettling.

The Yard is Full of Shards by Deep_South

9.4k - Bottom Billy

Steve spent the first month after That Day in perplexed confusion, still teased and tormented by Billy’s body, which always seemed just out of reach. At first the selective reveals and concealment of Billy’s skin seemed circumstantial. Billy would always insist that they meet in the dark shade of the woods; he kept the lights off in Steve’s room; and he only climbed into the backseat of either of their cars at night. They were all places where Billy’s body remained shadowed and occluded, with only small glimpses afforded by the weak filter of the moon, or what little light streamed through Steve’s window from the lamps out by the pool. Steve had figured Billy was being carefully paranoid about being seen by others, of being seen with Steve. It took Steve longer than he’s proud of to realize that Billy didn’t want to be seen by *him.*

OR: A lifetime of abuse has left Billy with scars that run deeper than Steve could ever know.

Bright by Kerasines

10k - Bottom Steve

Steve's face looks golden in the light of the setting sun, and when he drops his eyes from where he was holding Billy’s gaze, his eyelashes paint shadows on the light flush of red in his cheeks.

He looks so fucking pretty that Billy’s breathless with it. Doesn’t know what to do, just holds still and can’t tear his eyes from his face as Steve leans in close, too close, to put lotion onto the front of his shoulders, rubbing it in carefully, so carefully, as if he’s trying not to hurt Billy. Touching Billy’s chest, staring at it where it rises with every shallow breath under Steve’s hands.

Then he looks up, straight into Billy’s eyes, and Billy’s sure his brain stops working for a second.

Quick Note: The Following fics are over 10k, so I can’t speak to how strongly intercrural is featured in them, but I’ve included them because it is definitely in there. :)

paint a picture of the days gone by by socknonny

15k - Bottom Steve

The doctors find a way to save Billy thanks to the drugs Steve and Robin were spiked with by the Russians. But something goes wrong... Now, Billy can barely remember his own name, and who the fuck is this pretty boy in front of him? Why does he feel so important?

break up with your girlfriend ('cause i'm bored) by thecopperkid

15k - Bottom Billy

@umissedconnections: Bambi eyes. m4m. i was rippin cigs in the sae p-lot. u made urself puke 2 make room 4 more beer. incredible? ur my hero PLS say ur into guys

* Steve finds he has a secret admirer who's continuously hitting on him via his university's Missed Connections Twitter account. // Tommy and Billy are the worst roommates ever.

your life is a perpetual insomnia by Buildyourwalls

54k - Bottom Steve

After the Mind Flayer takes Billy away, Steve is trying to get on with his life. Until one day a mysterious letter comes in the mail and he embarks on a journey to find Billy with Robin, Dustin, and an orange VW van named Betty at the helm.

 A story of love, found family, and a whole bunch of Scoop Troop witticism.

Pretty Broken Boys by Stranger Ships (Imaginary_Boyfriend)

97k - Bottom Steve

Christmas break is over and Billy decides to try turning over a new leaf during his last semester at Hawkins High. Will Steve notice (and perhaps reward) his efforts, or has Billy already burned too many bridges?

(i will try to tag authors later. i don’t know everyone’s tumblr handles, and tumblr gives me a lot of grief when i try to tag people anyway, which i’m too tired to deal with rn, so i apologize)

#harringrove #harringrove fic rec #lemon

[themilky-way]

under my skin {bucky barnes}

gif credit: friendzoned-by-avengers

pairing: bucky barnes x female! reader

summary: it was the little things about you that enamored him. no matter where he went, or what he did, his mind always wandered to the thought of you. how long until he acts on it? based on only human by robin loxley.

warnings: implied nsfw themes but nothing’s actually descriptive. uh the fucking delicious scent of vanilla because i’m obsessed with it lmao. ALSO if you squint, you’ll find a scene from my previous bucky fic ;)

author’s note: what da fawk 😃 i’m reposting this bc tumblr was  stupid and this wasn’t showing up in the tags??? uhh okay 🤡😃

-------

there were nights when the world around you was still. the streets below the compound were silent, no horns sounding or engines running. footsteps didn’t resonate against the cold concrete of the sidewalk, and no random chatter from pedestrians or local restaurants was heard. for a city like manhattan, you had learned to appreciate nights like these and to never take them for granted. when midnight would strike and send a cool breeze through the open crack of your window, you’d drape a blanket over your shoulders and walk to the large balcony in the living room. the doors remained open behind you, as you knew everyone else was peacefully sleeping, and watched the city in front of you fade into nothing more than the whistle of the wind.

sometimes, a guest would join you. the sound of slippers padding across the marbled tiles would reach your ears, and you allowed yourself to smile. the moments that came with this particular noise were something you treasured, engraving them deeply into your mind so you could be blessed with the opportunity to look upon them again. you’d make out the silhouette that was now next to you, and even though you already knew who it belonged to, you never missed out on the chance to look at him. every now and then you’d come to find out that he was already staring, not creepily, but more of a mesmerized glare. what followed became a routine: you’d smile, coil away as heat rose to your cheeks, and then he’d place a hand on them so you’d look at him. he’d profile every feature on your skin, remembering them so as to be able to touch you again when he closed his eyes later that night. he prepared himself for one of the sweetest moments his life could ever offer him, and in turn showed you just how powerful the movement of his lips on yours could be.

bucky eventually lost count of how many times he’d fall asleep to the sweet, addicting scent of your perfume that lingered on his nightwear. the luscious smell of vanilla would work its way up to his nose, and when he’d catch it, he permitted himself to reminisce the feeling of you. when he did, it almost drove him to the brink of insanity. the sudden recollection of your fragrance when he’d connect his mouth to your neck, or even the purest parts of your body, was enough for him to worship you better than the previous encounter.

but then his mind would change the film and a different image of you appeared. now, you were sitting in front of him, trying your hardest to cure his wounds. the tiny water droplets that ran down your cheek would be wiped by the softness of his thumb, and words of comfort would spill from your lips. as he recounted this scene, his fingers would trace his scars and imagined you were the one doing it. his emotions would depict themselves in the beating of his heart, and he was almost sure that all of new york could hear it. but most importantly, he wished you could hear it. he wanted nothing more than for you to realize the things you did to him; how easily you had bucky wrapped around your finger. if you were to ask him to bring you a star, the one that glowed almost as bright as you, he’d give you the entire galaxy if he could. and he needed you to know that.

so the next evening you stood together in the balcony, and his lips carved into your own, he reluctantly pulled away to reach your ear. warm breath fanned the skin of it before you felt bucky’s teeth graze your earlobe gently, the fingers you had tangled in his hair tugging at the sensation.

“do you know the things you do to me?”

“i think i have an idea,” you breathed out. it wasn’t meant to come out as needy as it did, but you had him so close to where you needed him that you were left with no other option. caught in the spur of the moment, your mouth attached to bucky’s neck, pressing light kisses to the area. it was an act of affection, a demonstration that proved you did reciprocate his feelings.

the minute you dipped your tongue to drag it along the marks you left behind, you knew you were done for. firm, strong hands gripped your sides, pulling you closer to him than humanly possible, and that’s when you caught the impression of him. it released a gasp from your lips, consequently earning a low growl from his. it awoke something in him: a hunger-a desire-whenever he’d swallow the whimpers you made. “sweetheart, if you keep doing that-”

“i know.” that night was the first of many.

it took bucky some time to come to terms with his emotions. it was by no means an easy process; a super soldier trained to assassinate without mercy isn’t exactly deserving of affection. the countless nights spent without rest involved bucky questioning every phrase and touch of admiration you gave him. the nights that you slept in his bed, soft breaths escaping the lips he caressed only moments before, meant the world to him. over the course of this journey, a warmth began to ignite in his chest. something suddenly tugged at the pit of his stomach when you turned the corner of a room he resided in. his heart nearly jumped out of his chest whenever you’d touch him, and one of the things he loved the most was how cool your skin was compared to his.

was this love? what bucky felt? he didn’t believe so at first, pushing the thought to the very back of his brain. but one night, as your bodies’ collided and the soft sounds escaping from you mingled with the air in the room, he let the words slip out. if he were any other person, you would’ve thought it was the pleasure talking, but he wasn’t. and so you muttered the phrase back, and you let him know how much you meant it.

in truth, bucky had unknowingly let you under his skin. he was a smart man-without a doubt. yet here he was, granting this ethereal individual permission to do everything they desired. oftentimes, the possibility of this ending badly kept him preoccupied during most of the day, but when night came around again, his fears ceased to exist.

the soldier noticed that time passed rather quickly when he was in love. days turned to weeks, which then looped into months. he longed for more; whenever tony organized a gala in his ballroom, he’d much rather have his hand pulling you tight against him than converse with sam. he yearned for the public to see you were his, and belonged to only him. thus, when sam and steve dared him to ask the girl he believed was the prettiest to dance, his eyes fell upon you instantly. he got up from his seat, the glass of whiskey he was holding hitting the table a little too harshly, and went over to you. he pardoned himself for interrupting your conversation, politely requested your hand, and excused himself again.

you didn’t hesitate to question his actions, nor to even be nervous of what the others might think, just enjoyed the fact you got to be near him. the interaction was gentle, loving in every reasonable sense as it always was. you swayed nice and slow against his rhythm, the melodies of the live symphony providing the perfect elements for you to catch on quickly.

“be mine,” bucky murmured. he was serious, perhaps more than he’s ever been in his life. the tender way in which he voiced it morphed a cheeky grin on your face.

“i’m already yours.”

“no, i mean actually mine. i don’t want to keep hiding you.” you had never seen him like this. yes, bucky had spoken sincerely with you before, but it was never to the point he might spontaneously combust if he didn’t spill his thoughts. regardless of anything, the man staring at you with great concern was waiting for a response, and you had to answer.

“bucky,” you replied, mocked innocence poking at his name. “kiss me. hard.”

and by god did he kiss you.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu imagine #the winter soldier #the winter solider x reader

[whereistheonepiece]

Late Nights (cotd.)

Previous

Law and Robin sat in companionable silence in the cool light of the aquarium. He would have been content to remain like that longer had his mind not started to wander before it came to a stop in Dressrosa. And he didn’t want to think about that, not right now. Not with present company.

So he started to ask her about the ship, starting with the aquarium bar and who was in charge of keeping it clean and looking after the fish. And Robin indulged him at first, telling him that the tank was Franky’s pet project. Franky kept it clean with one of his inventions and he kept an eye on the pH and ammonia levels of the water so the fish didn’t become sick. Only the highest quality ingredients for Sanji’s kitchen, she told him with a fond smile.

But eventually she turned her head and fixed that all knowing stare on him and Law had to look away. “You miss your crew, don’t you?” she asked him, sitting up straight, taking her warmth and the comfortable pressure of her weight with her.

His cup drained, Law tracked the movements of a smaller fish in the tank, watching as it darted around a larger fish that couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge the smaller one’s presence. He traced his finger along the rim of the cup. Two more fish joined the first fish, trying to elicit a response from the large fish, which continued to swim around the tank at its leisurely pace. He thought about Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo. “It hasn’t been that long,” he murmured. How ridiculous to miss someone after such a short time when he’d survived for much longer on his own.

“That doesn’t matter, though, does it?”

He looked at her finally, stared into her crisp blue eyes. She smiled at him and for once he did not see the spider in its web when he looked at her.

“You still miss them all the same,” she said. 

Robin spoke to him without judgement. She made Law want to tell her the truth, even with how strange it felt to confide in a relative stranger. But he didn’t normally feel this comfortable with strangers, did he? “Yes.” He looked back up at the tank and found the fish again.

“I was separated from the others for two years until very recently.”

He nodded to let her know that he was listening. “What did you do during that time?” he asked her, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

She paused thoughtfully. “I kept myself busy and made new friends.” She looked down into her cup, as if noticing that it was empty for the first time. She then looked into his eyes. “I hope we can be friends, Law.”

He was about to respond when Robin suddenly rose to her feet. He watched her as she stretched, saw the way the hem of her gown hiked up her thighs. And she noticed him noticing, if the twinkle in her eyes as she looked at him was any indication. She bent down at the waist and grabbed her cup before she turned to leave, bidding him good night.

Law watched her go, debating with himself for a few moments before came to a decision. He called out to her: “Nico-ya.”

She turned and looked at him, lips curled in amusement. “Law,” she said, voice lilting. It made him glad that he’d asked her to call him by his given name. He wanted to hear her to say it more and Law wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “It’s only fair that you call me by my name.”

He nodded. “Robin,” he said, testing the weight of her name on his tongue. He liked it. “I had a nice time tonight.”

Robin dipped her head at him. “My offer still stands, you know,” she said, turning as she continued on her way out the door. “Good night, Law.”

Law sat there in silence, staring at the spot where Robin had stood. He found himself wanting to take her up on her offer, to follow her into the women’s quarters and get into bed with her. Maybe he might even be able to fall back asleep for a few hours, or at the very least enjoy some peace before it was time for breakfast and Law was thrown back into the chaos that was the Straw Hat Pirates at mealtime.

But then his thoughts turned to Dressrosa. There was still time before they reached their destination, but Law couldn’t afford to lose his focus. He was so close. He reminded himself of the thirteen years of single minded determination finally culminating in a final confrontation with the man who had taken so much from him.

With a sigh, Law stood up and exited the aquarium, looking back over his shoulder one last time to look for the large fish and see if the other three were still bothering it. It swam alone.

Cup in hand, Law made his way to the kitchen, washing and drying the cup before putting it up so he didn’t hear any complaints from Sanji in a few hours. He crossed Sunny’s lawn as he made his way back to the men’s quarters, ignoring the tugging sensation he felt pulling him in the direction of Robin’s room.

#lawbin #law #robin #fanfic #ah gotta go back and change the title to the other installments now that this has a name on ao3

[tangled23works]

No Time To Die

This is my entry for Olicity clue by @olicitytropes. I hope you can guess the prompts I was given even though I ran away with them as usual.

Felicity Smoak was accustomed to walking home in the dead of night. Her small townhome was on the outskirts of the Glades, the city’s most disreputable area. Usually she could drive her Mini to and from Queen Consolidated, but last month they had caught her speeding for the third time and taken her licence away. Now, she was forced to take the bus every day. At first it had been weird and scary for a woman who loved driving but after awhile she had gotten used to it.

Thankfully, the bustop was not far and on the way, there was a very famous strip club which had bouncers built like tanks in front. She felt safe walking by the Huntress because she knew that if she needed help she could always run towards it. Helena Bertinelli, the owner of the club, was a bitch and crazier than a bag of cats but everyone said that she was a passionate defender of women’s rights. Helena reserved all her wrath for men. Specifically, the Italian mobsters who had killed her fiance a few years before.

Felicity turned left on the corner and reached inside her bag for the pepper spray. This street was not well-lit so she had to be extra careful. She walked slowly but with purpose and kept her head on a swivel. That one was Roy’s suggestion and when she had admitted that she had no clue what it meant, he had alternated between genuine surprise at her lack of sports knowledge and scolding for losing her driving licence. Since Roy was the most street savvy person she knew, she had chosen not to antagonize him and follow his advice.

Walking by the huge dumpster, Felicity heard a grunt and a groan. Probably some poor animal suffering. Roy had warned her about stopping in the Glades so she took a deep breath and decided to ignore it. The grunt was louder the next time. Her curiosity got the better of her and she approached it carefully.

A leg became slowly visible. A long leg dressed in very distinctive green leather trousers. She blinked but the strange sight didn’t go away.

Felicity tilted her head and examined him. Lying on the trash, out cold but still breathing judging by the rise and fall of his chest, was Starling City’s resident vigilante. Her mind blanked for a few seconds. Then she pulled her phone out before she could second-guess herself.

“What’s up, Blondie?”

Roy’s voice was calm even though she interrupted his date night with Thea. She didn’t want to ruin that but she had no one else to call. And certainly, no one else who she could trust with a secret like this.

“Hi Scarecrow. Are you with Thea?”

“Yes.”

“Can you get out for a few minutes? I need help carrying something to my house.”

“Blondie, if it’s another Robin Hood framed poster you should know that-”

“Oh no, it’s nothing like that. Please, come. And Roy? Don’t tell Thea where you’re going.”

“Are you in trouble, Blondie?”

“Sort of. I’ll explain everything as soon as you’re here.”

“Where exactly is here?”

“On 7th. Behind the Huntress. Hurry!”

Roy let out a filthy curse commenting on her tendency to get into trouble and hung up without saying goodbye.

Felicity didn’t have to wait long - thankfully Roy and Thea were hanging out at his place tonight - before he showed up. She had stood still as a statue, guarding him, armed with pepper spray and determination. 

When Roy saw who was on the ground behind her, his eyes widened like saucers reminding her of a cartoon.

“Are you crazy?” he asked in a furious whisper.

“Perhaps. Can you help me move him to my house? It’s not far.”

“I should call the police right now. This guy is crazy, Blondie.”

“No, he isn’t.” She didn’t know why she felt so strongly about the subject.

“He has killed a lot of people. Lance is searching for him everywhere and you want to, what? Live a Robin Hood fantasy with him?”

Felicity narrowed her eyes. For the first time she wondered if trusting Roy had been a good idea.

“People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That when I started hanging out with you, everyone told me that you were a thief and a junkie. I gave you the benefit of the doubt and now you and Thea are my friends. You’re the only family I’ve got in Starling. Which would have never happened if I had heeded all these warnings. Doesn’t he deserve the same consideration?”

“Fine. Save me the guilt trip. But if Lance knocks on my door tomorrow with a warrant, I’m not covering for you.”

“Deal,” she beamed at him.

There was one slight problem with the plan. Lifting and carrying a 6'1", 180 lbs guy was easier said than done. In the end they decided to carry him standing up as if he were drunk which wouldn’t bring much attention in this neighborhood.

“Wow, he’s really heavy. Do you think it’s all muscles?”

“Somehow, I don’t think vigilantes come with beer bellies,” Roy panted.

The distance they had to cover was minimal all things considered but it seemed like an eternity to her. Roy didn’t say much, just carried the burden silently which made her regret the fact that she had cancelled her own gym subscription last month. By the time they reached the townhouse, they were both sweaty and exhausted. Felicity had trouble putting one foot in front of the other and had to promise herself two pints of chocolate mint chip as motivation.

Roy had to support the vigilante by himself until she could find her keys, a fact he did not appreciate, judging by his surly expression. Felicity unlocked the door quickly and helped him carry the man inside. 

“Do you think your neighbors saw us, Blondie?”

She shook her head and threw her bag on the floor. “No way. It’s too late. The only one who cares about my comings and goings is Mrs Fernandez but she is asleep at this hour.”

She took off her heels and focused on the unconscious man who was now dripping blood on her teal couch.

“Is he shot?” she asked Roy.

Roy examined him closely. “Nope. There’s a long gash on his right thigh, however.”

“Like from a sword?” She was equally fascinated and horrified. Lowly IT experts did not lead exciting lives. Her boring night had turned into an adventure.

“Who knows? You can ask him when he comes to.”

Felicity agreed. She fervently hoped she would get the chance to have a discussion with the man, crazy as it might sound.

“Don’t worry. It’s not his time to die.” He got up and considered her. “We’ll need some kind of medkit if we hope to take care of this ourselves.”

“It’s in the upstairs bathroom.”

“I’ll bring it. And all the other necessary items. In the meantime, you should take off his clothes so that we can see the damage.”

Felicity was tempted to peek under the hood. 

“Leave the hood on,” Roy warned. “This is one secret you don’t want to learn.”

She considered it for a moment. Mysteries were the worst. They really bugged her and usually served no purpose but to annoy people. On the other hand, this man’s identity was dangerous. She might be a bit reckless but she wasn’t crazy. She had no intention of becoming prime target for all of this guy’s enemies. 

She hurried to his side and put a hand on his neck. His pulse was sluggish but it was definitely there. Relieved, she began the process of undressing him. She unzipped the jacket and lifted up his T-shirt to assess the possible damage. His chest was lean but muscular, covered in recent bruises and old scars. Some of his ribs could be cracked or broken but without an MRI machine there was simply no way of knowing. Surprisingly, he had several tattoos but his chest was otherwise smooth. No sign of hair anywhere. She was momentarily riveted by the sight of an honest to God eight pack but she pushed the shirt down and covered him again before she could do something crazy. Like lick him. Right there on each one of his delicious muscles which up until now she had never seen on a living human being.

Felicity shook her head and tried to concentrate. The blood seemed to be coming from his leg like Roy had said and it looked quite fresh. Carefully, she unzipped him and drew the leather trousers down his legs. She had to take his boots off first though. He remained eerily silent, a fact which both relieved and worried her. Underneath he wore black briefs and she couldn’t help but notice that he was beautiful even there. Thick and long by her estimate.

“His wound is several inches to the right.”

Felicity blushed to the roots of her dyed blonde hair. She chose not to respond to Roy’s mocking comment and focused on the task at hand.

“You were right. There is a long gash here. It’s still bleeding.”

“I’ll clean up the wound and sew his leg. I sterilized the equipment as much as I could but considering the circumstances, I think this guy would prefer a little bacterial infection than going to the doctor.”

“I’m guessing the words hospital and police aren’t his favorite.”

Roy smiled at that and did a thorough cleaning of the wound. By then Felicity was ready to gag. It only got worse when he grabbed the needle and thread.

“Step aside, Blondie. You can clean him using the cloth after I’m done.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m not a fan of pointy things.”

“You should have let him die then.”

She walked to the other side of the living room towards the kitchen.

“Why did you save him?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“Shouldn’t you be more careful? After all, you’re piercing his skin with a needle right now.”

Roy saw through her evasion tactic. It was obvious from the way he clenched his jaw to avoid asking more questions. She wanted to answer him but she couldn’t. The truth was that she didn’t even know herself.

Why had she saved him? Well, obviously she couldn’t leave a defenseless man lying on trash dying slowly on the street. It went against every instinct. But bringing him into her house? That was so not like her. A long time ago she had been impulsive and careless but she had paid for it dearly. This was the first rash decision she had made in years. Felicity took a deep breath and pushed down the memories when they tried to raise ugly their head. Thinking about Cooper wouldn’t help the angry man on her couch.

Anger was the only emotion that he was willing to show. People had described their interactions with him again and again. Those descriptions varied so much that it was as if they were talking about a different guy. But all witnesses had agreed on one thing. This man was furious. Thankfully, he only took it out on thieves, rapists and gang members. Was anger though his only reason? She stared at him trying to discern the man behind the mask. 

Roy got up, looking quite pleased with himself. “I did a good job. Your vigilante is gonna live,” he announced.

“He’s not my vigilante, Scarecrow. Go wash up. I’ll clean your patient and take care of him.”

Roy climbed the stairs. “If he wakes up, call me. I need to speak to Thea.”

Felicity sighed at his overprotective tendencies. She took the wet cloth and approached the couch. The Hood, as they called him, had a commanding presence for a knocked out man.

She kneeled on the floor and started cleaning him softly. Considering this man’s life choices could give a girl a headache. Was he completely mad? Did he suffer from some type of mental illness? What kind of sane person roamed the streets at night saving strangers? Life was not a comic book. The Glades were scary and dangerous and despite her earlier bravado, she knew that she had been really lucky tonight.

Her hand moved almost without thought towards his face. She couldn’t see much except for a strong jaw covered in stubble, a pair of juicy lips and a cute mole that didn’t seem to belong on such a masculine face. The mystery was killing her. Surely, he wouldn’t mind if she took a peek? She had saved his life for Google’s sake.

Her hand reached the hood.

She touched the soft green fabric - so different from the rest of his suit - and was about to push it back when his hand grabbed her wrist in a viselike grip.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Felicity froze like a little girl with the hand in the cookie jar.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Ever since your friend tortured me with the needle.”

Felicity felt outraged on behalf of Roy. “You could try to be a little more grateful. He saved your life.”

“You saved my life,” he rasped, “he was bitching and moaning every step of the way.”

She chuckled despite herself.

“Where am I?”

“My place. I live near the strip club.”

His hand clenched on her wrist. “It’s not a good neighborhood for you.”

She dropped the cloth in a small basin. “That’s the best I can do.”

“Doesn’t QC pay you better than that?”

Felicity’s heart raced. “How do you know where I work?”

He pointed towards her chest. “Your IT badge. I can’t see the name but I know the company logo.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m just an IT expert. Mostly, I clean computers infested with porn and fix executives’ emails accounts. I wanted the Applied Sciences position that opened up last summer but I lacked one major qualification so I didn’t get it.”

“What did you lack?”

“A dick and balls.”

At her dry retort, he started making a really weird sound. It was almost like wheezing. To her surprise, she realized that she had made the vigilante laugh.

“That doesn’t sound good,” she told him.

“It’s your fault. You’re not supposed to laugh with cracked ribs.”

Felicity winced. He was still holding her hand but she didn’t try to take it back.

“Were you really slashed with a sword?”

“And where would I find a sword in the middle of the Glades?”

“I don’t know Mr. Arrow. Up until last summer you couldn’t find a bow in Starling unless you belonged to an archery club.”

“Touche.”

His voice was familiar. Actually, she couldn’t recognize it because he made sure to speak in a low whisper. But there was something about the way he spoke the words themselves that sounded familiar to her. She tried to see under the hood but it was impossible. The only discernible thing was his lush mouth and that sinful mole.

“I was shot by a lady with a crossbow.”

His words brought her back from daydreaming about his mouth.

“You’re joking!”

“Do I look like a man who jokes?”

“You look like a man who likes to spend his nights dressing in leather and tying people up,” she retorted.

He laughed. Again. Felicity wanted to pump a fist in victory. She got the feeling that he wasn’t a man who laughed often.

“Where is your friend?”

“He went upstairs to clean up and call his girlfriend. He left her rather abruptly to come and save your ungrateful butt.”

His gloved hand was still holding hers, only now he was caressing her absentmindedly.

“My butt is very grateful. Still I would like to leave before he returns. Can you help me dress?”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. Roy was raised in the Glades. He’s not going to rat you out. You can stay here until morning.”

He appeared thoughtful for a few moments. “Very well. But it would be best not to tell him I’m awake when he comes back.” 

He released her hand, promptly closed his eyes and appeared unconscious for all intents and purposes. Felicity was about to check his pulse when she realized the reason for subterfuge. Roy was coming down the stairs.

“Is he awake, Blondie?”

“Nope. You can go back to Thea. I don’t think he’s going to wake up anytime soon.”

“No way. I’m not leaving you alone with this lunatic.”

Her vigilante had tensed since the moment Roy approached but now he managed to radiate anger even as still as he was. Felicity put a hand on his uninjured leg.

“I don’t believe he’s crazy, Roy.”

“Then?”

“He’s a man of strong convictions. I imagine there must be something powerful behind his decision to go out at night and hunt criminals.”

Roy stared at her as if she had lost her mind.

“Don’t worry, Scarecrow. I do not approve of his methods. I only said I understand him a little.”

“You’re scaring me, Blondie. I think you better go and lie down. It’s after 10 and you have to work tomorrow.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving him. I’ll put on my pyjamas and lie on the chair. I spend most of my nights on that thing anyway.”

Roy was about to argue when his cell phone rang. He picked up. Pacing back and forth, he whispered furiously for awhile. Apparently, the news was bad.

“Thea got herself into trouble. What is it with the women in my life tonight? Is it a full moon or something?”

“Is she ok?”

“Yeah. She had a car accident going home. I told her not to drive her brother’s Porsche but she never listens.”

Felicity looked frantically for her phone. “Is she hurt? I need to call her now!”

“Don’t call her. She’s just scared because when Moira hears about it, she’s gonna be grounded for a year. She’s not hurt but the car is busted.”

“Can you wait until I change? Then you can leave.”

Roy waited patiently while she washed herself in the sink and changed into clean pyjamas. This night was by far the weirdest in her life and it was not over yet. She hurried downstairs fearing that Roy would discover her vigilante was awake. The panic she felt at the thought of betraying his trust should have scared her. Instead it made her feel alive for the first time in years.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok, Blondie?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Go get your girl, Scarecrow. Keep me updated.”

He left with a final order, “Keep your phone with you at all times”.

She resisted rolling her eyes again. Going closer to the actual superhero in her living room, she fake-whispered, “He left. You can quit the acting now.”

He opened his eyes and since the hood was now pushed back she finally got the chance to see his eyes. His gorgeous cerulean blue eyes. Life was so unfair sometimes.

“Is Thea Queen ok?”

His question was surprising. According to the media, the vigilante was not a fan of the city’s one percent.

“She had an accident but she’s not injured. Her brother’s car is totaled though.”

He looked like he was about to comment on that before he reconsidered.

“I thought you didn’t like Starling’s rich and famous?”

“Innocent teenage girls aren’t my enemy.” His voice was still low but his tone was hard.

“I’m sorry,” Felicity said. She felt horrible and was about to apologize further when he stopped her.

“It’s fine.”

She looked around, feeling lost. “Can I get you anything?”

“Since I’m about to spend the night, can I have blanket?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You’re lying half-naked on my couch and I didn’t even think you might be cold.”

“I spent a lot of time in Russia. Trust me, I’m not cold.”

Startled by the insight into his personal history, she threw him one of her favorite purple blankets and curled up in her chair. 

“Really? I’ve never been abroad. What is Russia like?”

He spread the blanket over himself carefully. His movements were good but if Felicity had to guess, she would say that the ribs were giving him trouble. Not that he would ever admit it. Stupid male pride.

“It’s an unwelcoming place. Hard and violent. At least it was for me. I wasn’t there for the sights.”

“What were you there for?”

“Training.” He paused and then whispered reluctantly, “with the Bratva”.

Felicity’s mind raced. “The Russian mob?” she squeaked.

“Yeah.” But he didn’t volunteer any other information and she didn’t want to pressure him. 

“Do you believe in God?” she asked out of the blue.

“I suppose. Why?”

“Bethany Snow says that you’re playing god. Judge, jury and executioner.”

“Bethany Snow,” he spat the name, “doesn’t understand the fact that the world is a complicated place. There are people who deal only in extremes. It’s naive to think that anything other than extreme measures is going to stop them.”

“Your world must be really different than mine.”

“I live in that world so that people like you don’t have to,” he countered.

Felicity closed her eyes. The adrenaline rush was wearing off and she was starting to feel the effects of the eventful day. She wasn’t going to sleep of course. Just rest for a minute or two.

“I feel safer with you here.”

“In your house?” He sounded really surprised by the admission.

“In my city,” she mumbled, eyes shut.

“Sleep. I’ll watch over you, Felicity.”

 She smiled at his promise and nodded off.

The dawn light was peeking through the window when she opened her eyes next. Her phone was ringing but it wasn’t the alarm clock. She didn’t awake gradually, hitting the snooze button like any other day. Instead she rolled off the chair and her gaze flew to the couch. 

Nothing. 

The blanket was folded and placed away with care. There was no sign of her unexpected guest. Except for the blood that still covered the couch. He hadn’t been able to erase that at least. 

Felicity rubbed her tired eyes and tried to make sense of the events of last night. When she couldn’t, she headed towards the kitchen to make a pot of really strong black coffee. She fired a quick message to Roy promising that she was fine and vigilantless when it suddenly hit her.

Roy had never uttered her real name and she certainly hadn’t introduced herself.

However, he had called her Felicity. 

The Hood knew who she was.

#olicity clue #olicity fanfiction #my fic #hope you enjoy

[kadeu]

Accepted — Meredith Anne Robin

◆  Meredith Anne Robin aka. Eclipse looks like Katie McGrath (Actor) ◆  She was born November 2nd, 1939 ; making her 81 but she appears 34   ◆  This Water Elemental is Pansexual and an Ace of Diamonds ◆  She is the Hydrokinetic Combat Instructor at the Acadamy, Director of Research and Development at Aster Stone, and an Anonymous Rebel Backer

Biography

The odds had been stacked in Meredith’s favor years before she had been born. Her parents were King and Queen ranked, with the mother standing to inherit her family’s company in crystal manufacturing, Aster Stone, and the father coming from a legacy of stage performers. The marriage came at the height of their careers and seemed to be a natural match that only the births of their two children could perfect. Anyone watching would see nothing but a loving and fortunate family. None could know it had all been carefully planned for the sole purpose of profit and prestige.

The little Robins grew up blissfully ignorant of the world that watched them through a semi-public eye. Their father had liked to take them to The Palace for his premieres, and they would have a nice story for the papers afterward. It wouldn’t be until adulthood when she realized she had been more like a prop then, rather than a child being doted on. But Meredith had enjoyed those nights where she and her brother would sit in a top box and watch the performances, though she did occasionally wonder whether the show was better on the floor with everyone else. Why else would all of them choose to be down there instead of up here?

As they aged, the importance of their capabilities began to take priority. Their toys were traded for tutors and their nights at The Palace were preceded with sparring matches. An immense amount of potential was expected from the siblings and their mother was a firm believer in beginning training as soon as they showed signs of magic. Aster Stone employed some of the higher ranking Academy students, and she urged her children to practice their abilities against them for private exercises. Any failures were met with an assertion that they could have done better, no matter the circumstances. Nothing could be a blemish on their reputation.

If Meredith had been alone, she would not have chosen to comply with her parents’ wishes as eagerly as she had done. It was the pride in their voices when they spoke of her brother that she wanted. She had tried her best to keep up with her brother in every aspect but had trailed behind him since she could crawl. Even with the notable improvements she had made, they were expecting more. When their pushing became too great, and she began to think of running away, it was his insistence that made her stay. They had started this together and were going to finish it together.

But he left on his fifteenth birthday. She had gone into his room to wake him for breakfast and his bed was empty. All she had been told was that he had left, that others had convinced him to leave, and finally that he had died. Meredith was almost insulted that they thought she would believe he would run when he had told her to stay, but there was little she could do other than shoulder the brunt of his absence and continue forward. It was a mystery that she was unable to get a straight answer about for nearly fifty years.  

With their son gone, the Robins turned their focus on their daughter to ensure her success in his place. In the time after her brother’s disappearance, Meredith had come to think of it as a mixed blessing. Their mother had taken the instruction drills into her own hands and refused to hold back as the tutors had before. She had become relentless and unforgiving but the father had doubled his attention. She felt as if she was being strangled by one parent and suffocated by the other.

Her moment of reprieve came with the ranking on her fifteenth birthday; a 9. Her parents finally had the proof of her capacity, but it did not stop them from continuing to push her further. It was at this time that the reason for their marriage was revealed to her. Their families had traced through bloodlines to find a minuscule percentage of royal ancestry and had convinced them to accept an arranged marriage in exchange for social favoritism. Her existence was an experiment, and she needed to prove successful.

When it came time to join the Academy, Meredith completed her beginners courses with ease. She had already been fighting at that level for a few years and her confidence soared knowing that she was above the average, even with rank aside. It was now validation for herself to know that her strict childhood had been purposeful, though she was reluctant to admit this to her parents even years later when they continued to ask why she insisted on taking every class possible.

She had tasted freedom and loathed the moments at home. Now she had her parents’ adoration, but it felt hollow when it all revolved around how they had made her successful. She hated that they now bragged as if they had been the ones to struggle through the training and impress her professors. So, rather than subject herself to listening to their empty flattery and forcing a smile, she frequently chose to stay at the school on their coin instead whenever she could.

The promotion to 10 came quicker than most expected. Her instructors were thrilled with her proficiency and tenacity in skirmishes, but this brought negative attention from her classmates. She struggled to make friends that lasted after they had fulfilled their ambitions, though there were many more who were openly averse to her presence as she reached the advanced levels within the Academy. At the end of it all, she preferred these types of people; they were easier to identify and eliminate in competition.

With the J, came her first real attempts for freedom. She had proven herself capable of holding her own and after it was agreed there was nothing more for her to learn at the Academy, she was left with a choice of what to do next and how to keep climbing. Her father offered to use his influence within The Palace to find her a position on the stage, but she reasoned that a life outside the public eye would be easier in the long run. Instead, she became friendly with her mother and returned to Aster Stone as an executive, instead of a test subject.

After a while, Meredith landed her place as Director of Research and Development, and her K. Crystals remained unchanged over the centuries, but it was now her job to find new uses for them. Or rather, to oversee the other inventors’ work on their ideas. She was more interested in the testing of these new devices, particularly those with combat purposes. The Council had been pressuring the advancement of weaponry, and they were expecting her to provide something to keep Diamonds ahead of the other factions.

Her favorite piece was one yet to be used in battle, but it ultimately earned her A. As impressive as the testing results had been, there were not many who seemed enthusiastic to try it for themselves and it landed on her to prove its capability. Manacores were known to be amplified in the presence of crystals and for centuries they have been used in the forms of jewelry, adornments on clothing, or embedded into weapons. Meredith dared to take it a step further and explore the benefits of crystalline sub dermal implants directly into the body itself. Admittedly, the process was intimidating.

She came out of the surgery with minimal complications, aside from the minor infections at the incisions resulting in raised scarring, and the endeavor was overall considered a success. Her strength had been admirable before the procedure, but it had increased significantly afterward. The Council was thrilled with their creation and her mother was given a substantial payment for production, but Meredith had received the ultimate prize in the end; a level of status and power beyond anything her parents could have ever given her.

The Dean of the Academy convinced her to take a teaching position within the school, specializing in her water elementalist techniques. She would be able to push the limits further and hand-pick those that succeed to move forward for advancement. It did not take long for her to draw criticism after taking interest in those who were ‘below’ the privilege she had been granting them. Nothing was more frustrating to her than being challenged to find the talent within the trash, then being denied the recognition of her findings because they are not ranked ‘high enough’.

It became her personal mission to go against the idea of a person’s potential based on their ranking, despite the grumblings from the Academy and other Aces. Nearly every student she nominated was received with a lengthy debate and over the years the opposition against her choices became more of a formality than a true dissent. Whether it was due to her own stubbornness or the results of her gambles proving themselves to be worthwhile, she wasn’t sure, but the questioning subsided, and she seemed to have earned the respect of her peers.

The sudden death of her mother threatened to change that, however. It was reported as an accident, an unfortunate carriage collision happening on a rainy day, coincidentally the same afternoon she was set to announce her retirement. Meredith’s grief was unanticipated, considering their difficult relationship, but it was her father’s resolute calmness that surprised her. Others believed he was putting on a brave face, after losing his son long ago and now his wife, but she knew when he was acting; this coldness was the truth.

With the mother gone, the father laid bare all their sins. He reiterated that they had been an arranged marriage as an experiment and that she and her brother were the results, ones that they had to ensure were successful. He explained that in the early hours of her brother’s fifteenth birthday, his ranking was significantly less than what they had expected. The two parents fought, and the mother let slip that she had had an affair shortly after the wedding with the man she truly loved, became pregnant, and passed off the son as a Robin. She was his only child.

Naturally, he was furious, and banished the boy to his ‘true home’ and forbade the mother from speaking of it again before they fabricated a story of their sons radicalization and disappearance. He had not asked his wife for details then and therefore, did not have any answers for Meredith as to where her brother may have gone. He even went so far as to imply that if he were to see him again, he would likely ‘kill the bastard’. Hearing her father’s open rejection of her brother only made her want to start searching and to use his money to do it.

First, majority control of Aster Stone was given over to the Board of Directors after Meredith had secured her mother’s posthumous salary for herself. It was not difficult, considering it was her own developments that had landed their most lucrative contract. The next, and most difficult step, was to find her way into the rebel communication lines and gain enough trust to be able to ask around without raising suspicions. Then, should she find something promising, there was still the matter of proving his identity somehow.

For now, Meredith continues her day job in the Academy as the Hydrokinetic Combat Instructor, a member of the Council, and occasionally sits at the table of Directors for Aster Stone. She uses her position to guide the future of Diamond Territory with every generation of students that passes through her curriculum successfully. She enjoys the benefits of her rank openly, and can frequently be seen in the Palace or a nightclub before heading home. There, she investigates her leads and waits for her opportunity to leave everyone in the dark.

Personality

Meredith is surprisingly polite for someone of her rank. She finds it easier to let the other think everything is their idea and to ‘firmly guide’ the situation to her favor. Those that are willing to please her to begin with don’t typically argue against her suggestions for long. She can be patient and enjoys frustrating her opponent into submission. She is intelligent, and intuitively knows what others need to feel accepted and comfortable. Do not mistake her charm and kindness for naivety. Not many are successful in their attempts to take advantage of her; the only exceptions being those she loves dearly.

Should she be challenged and find her adversary as stubborn as herself, she takes it as a personal offense to her own credibility. She can be vengeful and unforgiving, holding onto grudges for long after the matter had been settled. Her enemies are either ignored or obsessed over, there is no in-between for Meredith. In an outright fight, she will always attempt to subdue her rival before moving to the maneuvers meant to overwhelm and destroy.

Those who only know her in passing or as an acquaintance would never see her falter in her decisions. Those doubts were saved for those she held in the upmost respect or loved intimately. She has the fullest trust and faith in these people, earning them her steadfast loyalty and affection. In moments of insecurity, she may become suspicious or possessive of her lover and begin to cling to them for comfort.  She feels her emotions deeply and does her best not to let them dictate her actions, oftentimes choosing to react wholly one way or another.

Congratulations Cecily your app has been accepted and your personalized plot drop will be sent to you soon

Please follow and welcome @merirobin to Kadeu!

#accepted; #follow;

[rosesloveletters]

This is a very personal post for me. I never thought I would be making it, but I would like to share the trip I took with J exactly a year ago; I’ve spoken about this trip on a number of occasions and it is what really bonded us together. We’ve been inseparable ever since. J is not the kind of guy to open up easily, yet this trip was the very beginning of the both of us learning how to trust again. 

I don’t like to share such personal details of our relationship, but it’s been a year since all of this took place and I kept it mostly quiet for that time; I’ve had the chance to hold this close to my heart and keep it only to my own knowledge, but now I would like to document it, as I’ve been looking back on it heavily today. 

The rest will be under a cut, because there are pictures and I don’t want to clog everyone’s dash with useless info, photos and such if you don’t want to see. For those that read on, please enjoy.

In all of my life, I have never been away from my home for the holidays. Every Christmas Day and Thanksgiving Day, I am never anywhere but home. Last Thanksgiving was a ‘spur of the moment’ kind of thing that came to fruition only a few months before the holiday. 

I had been sick a week prior to the trip and J had remained with me throughout that time. I can’t say I am completely new to F/Os, though before joining this community I did not know that self-shipping had a “name” or that “F/O’s” is a term; I have never had another F/O stick by my side during an illness. I tend to push them out of my mind when I have a virus, but I learned quickly that J is persistent. He did not leave. I was completely alone for the entire day and feeling J there kept me from utterly falling apart. 

After my illness, the very next week we were on our way to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. If you’ve never been there, it is extremely touristy and crowded, but I love it. It has been practically a second home to me for so long; my family and I used to go there every summer. We stopped a long while ago, but I was thrilled to finally be back in a place so familiar. I know where all the restaurants are, all the stores I like, the aquarium (which we visited!) and more. 

Our first day there was not much because we had been traveling the whole way. We rented a bed and breakfast up in the mountains; it was a fifteen minute drive of terror to get there. There were no guard rails on the steep hill and nothing keeping us from a sheer drop every time we came up or down, but what was at the top made it all worth it. Our little apartment was perfect and the view was spectacular. 

This was our place at the top of the mountain and the spiral staircase that led to the loft where I stayed with J:

I could tell he felt safe up here in the middle of nowhere; I wanted to take him somewhere he wouldn’t be recognized. Within the hustle and bustle of the city, though, he had to be careful. He wore old clothes that he had saved that had been his, dark suspenders and black lace up shoes most days. This trip was the first time I saw him without his face paint. The point of the trip for us, was for us to be able to grow closer. J is a tough nut to crack, but we’ve known each other a long time; we got to know each other in a much different light on this trip. 

This is the view from our balcony the first morning after we arrived:

We achieved a kind of solitude up there that we never would have in the city. J doesn’t like the city, despite his adamant request that we continue to live there. He has such a recognizable face that he is only truly at ease in a place like this, with civilization miles away. 

When we did go into town, we stood in line for donuts. Of course since it was Thanksgiving, it was swarming with crowds and crowds of people (J hated that and several times he thought someone had recognized him.) J is a sucker for sweet treats and he was thoroughly excited with the idea of donuts; I later took him into a candy store in the same venue and he behaved, well, as one might suspect. I think he shoved a bunch of rock candy into his pockets because when we got back to our apartment later I heard him crunching on something and we didn’t buy any chips. 

This was where we stood in line for donuts (I got a glazed donut with white frosting and sprinkles and J had something called a ‘pillow’ which was basically a square-shaped donut with creme filling):

We sat on a bench by the fountain and ate our donuts; J had his finished in about thirty seconds and was licking his fingers by the time I was on my third bite. That was the best food we had had there so far; the night before, we went out for pizza and it was horrible. 

After we had had our donuts, J was ready to get away from the crowds; he felt like someone had been staring at him, so we headed out to the park for a while. J is not much of an outdoorsman, but he likes the solitude and that no one would be around to spot him. Everywhere we went, there were people, so J and I headed further back in the park where there was less of a chance to be around anyone. We got out and walked along a deserted pathway and stood on the edge of the creek as it rushed past us. 

Here’s a photo from our walk: 

After that, we headed back into town for lunch. Before we went inside to sit down, J dug around in his luggage for a purple knitted hat of his and put it on so he’d be less recognizable and his identity would be concealed enough for us to sit down long enough to share a meal. We had Mexican food; I learned that J has a thing for tortillas and extremely spicy salsa (and that he’s a messy eater.) We had our food fast and I think J had a margarita or two, but his scars were attracting some unwanted negative attention and people were staring, so we left fast before he could say anything. We went and bought tickets to the aquarium, per my request. 

Inside the aquarium was the first time J saw my childish side; I get super excited at aquariums and zoos because of all the animals and it reminds me of all the fun school trips I used to take when I was little. We saw all kinds of sea creatures. J was most fascinated with the sharks and the jellyfish, while I was busy looking at the sea turtles and string-rays. However, my favorite exhibit was the penguins. We stood and watched them for close to thirty minutes. The staff members were feeding them and the little penguins got so excited. One man held up his cup and straw to the glass and one little penguin tried to grab it! 

J and I were shocked when we saw this sitting inside the medical facility’s window where they tend to the penguins (for those who don’t know, Burgess Meredith was the actor who played the Penguin in the original Batman television series with Adam West as Batman, Burt Ward as Robin and Cesar Romero as the Joker): 

We spent much of our time that day in the park after the aquarium trip and then we retired to our apartment at the top of the mountain and spent that night watching movies. That night was the night J told me the origin of his scars. He had never told anyone the full and completely truthful story and that was the first time he ever did and probably the last. This trip was full of ‘firsts’ for us; it was the first time we ever made love (watch him get pissed at me for saying that pffft.)

On Thanksgiving morning, J whipped us up some cinnamon rolls. It was a scene watching him try to use the oven; it was an extremely ancient appliance and he was dropping f-bombs left and right and I think he also burnt his hand on the pan. The only thing J will make correctly are things that come from a can, tin or otherwise are pre-made or sweets. In this case, we had a very decent breakfast: 

We spent the rest of that day in the park and then that evening, we traveled over to the next town for our dinner reservations. Even though we had reservations, there were so many people we still had to wait over an hour to be seated. It was cold and we were wedged into a tiny corner as we waited. There was nowhere to sit and so I leaned back against J; he rested his chin on top of my head and would occasionally tap on my shoulders along to the music coming through the overhead speakers. 

When we were finally seated, we were brought several courses, the first being apple fritters and drinks (the highlight of the meal), then we had some soup and it was terrible, and finally we were brought the main course: turkey, ham, green beans, mashed potatoes, corn, cranberry sauce and dinner rolls. There was so much food and, spread out across even such a large table, it was unimaginable how we were expected to eat it all. J finished almost all the turkey and about half the ham (he didn’t eat all day so he could “save room” for the meat.) He went to town on the rolls and mashed potatoes as well. He kept sneering at the cranberries and watched me with disgust as I ate them. He threw a dinner roll at me across the table to get my attention and grinned when I looked at him; he had corn stuck in his teeth. he took his hat off halfway through dinner because it was warm inside the dining room and somehow he wound up with mashed potatoes in his hair.

Here’s our meal before J had ravaged it all 9utter chaos ensued after this photo was taken): 

Our last full day in Gatlinburg was fairly relaxed; we went into the city that morning, but it was even more crowded (it was a Friday) and J decided we’d better head out. We went into the park and started up one of the mountains. I let J drive and he drives like a maniac; we made such sharp turns I almost ended up out through the open window. He sped up the mountain and we quickly made it to the top. The view was breathtaking but J didn’t even blink. I know he had to have appreciated it as well, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of things. The farther up we went, the more deserted the lookout spots became and when we found ourselves alone, J scooped me into his arms and kissed me. Seeing tiny glimpses of his humanity was unsettling at first because I had never known him as such; J still finds ways to surprise me, even now. 

This is the view we had at the top of the mountain: 

and this is the spot where J kissed me: 

( Cameron: and she kissed me

Pat: Where?

Cameron: in the car )

Little did we know that on the way down from the mountain, we would be sitting in the car for almost three hours stuck in traffic. We made the most of it; J wouldn’t let me turn on the radio for some reason, so I talked to him. He didn’t say much, but he listened. This was when I found out J was more of a listener unless he was in a playful mood. 

When we got back to the apartment that night, we watched a Christmas movie together. I don’t fully embrace Christmas until the day after Thanksgiving - I owe it to all the holidays to give them equal time and attention (and I like Thanksgiving a lot.) No Christmas movies, music or decorating until after Thanksgiving. J kept talking through the entire movie and every time he laughed it scared me because he was so loud. It doesn’t bother me if he talks through movies because I do it too. 

The next day, we packed our things and left to come back home. This is the view from outside our balcony on our last day: 

I keep coming back to the memory of this trip because it was the last trip I got to take before the start of Covid; no one knows when it will be safe to travel again or if it will even be next year. I miss when everyone was able to do so and we weren’t risking our health and safety as well as other people’s just by going out. Of all the trips I’ve taken, this one will always be special to me because of J; he was like a light in my life and he came in at the most opportune time. 

I haven’t felt that happy in so long. I had been suffering greatly a few months prior to the trip, but because of him things were beginning to change. I might not be a part of this world if I hadn’t met him again at the time I had and I am lucky that I got to experience such a lively time in my life and all the little ways loving J has renewed my sense of self-love and awareness in the world and things around me. 

This trip is one I owe to J, but also to myself; I felt aware of myself and my space in the world. 

I have no idea how I talked J into making this trip with me, nor if I’ll ever convince him to come with me anywhere ever again, but I will hold the memories close to me forever and I’ll always look back on this time of the year as something special and happy. 

#self-shipping #jaie #my stuff #I love my J #I dont know if he feels the same but I know how I feel

[m00nslippers]

Everyone Crushing On Jason 1

Well um...I said I had something nice for you guys and this is it, the prologue to the 'Everyone Crushing on Jason AU' that no one asked for. Unlike the AU you all know and love, this isn't actually funny, it's more serious. I want to write more of these, maybe turn some of the longer scenes into chapters. But for now I hope you guys enjoy.

- - -

It was a mistake.

Bruce should have realized that fact as soon as the matter was proposed in the monthly JLA meeting, but the truth was that he hadn't wanted to. Jason was doing so well. He'd been a solid member of the Gotham vigilante community for going on two years. He'd stayed out of trouble as well as any former Robin could, that was to say not at all, but at least the Red Hood was respected as a hero and no longer condemned as a villain.

And possibly even better than Jason's progress from villain to hero, was Jason's progress from estrangement to established family member. Bruce was finally at a point in his relationship with his second son that he didn't wake up in a cold sweat with nightmares of it all falling to ruin. Jason was comfortable, he was committed, he was reliable in a way Bruce had dreamed as being possible but rarely dared hope for. Even with all of the reasons Jason had to be angry at and resentful of Batman, of the world in general, he'd chosen of his own accord to let that go for something better and Bruce was so proud of him for that. It wasn't instant and it wasn't easy, but after all this time, Jason's effort and sacrifice should be recognized and rewarded.

He thought this could act as something to that effect. And if it didn't appeal, Jason always had the option to say no. Many had in the past, including Jason's close friend Roy Harper.

So one evening after patrol, Bruce dismissed everyone from the cave except for Red Hood. His other children trundled up to the manor with varying levels of drowsiness as Jason waited, cooling his heels by idly spinning in one of the desk chairs at the bat-computer. He was an intimidating young man at the best of times and even the absence of his weapons and leather jacket, thrown over the back of the chair, the arms fluttering as he spun, didn't exactly help. Red Hood was all black body-armor and tactical gear over a body every bit as honed and skilled as Batman's. Perhaps he should have given Jason a chance to change out of his uniform, if only for Bruce's nerves, but he didn't anticipate a fight so it didn't exactly matter.

“So what's this about, old man?” Jason asked, a curious quirk of his head, disturbing the lock of white in his hair. Jason's tone was casual, but Bruce was familiar enough with his son to recognize an edge of anxiety at being singled out. Bruce figured he deserved that. When he took the time to speak as Batman with one of his children, he rarely had good news.

“As you know,” Bruce began, “last night I attended a JLA meeting. A number of matters were decided.”

“Okay,” Jason acknowledged, and by his carefully controlled expression he was suspicious. Despite their growing closeness, Jason was always certain he was one mistake away from ejection from Gotham and exile from the family. That was Bruce's failing, as a leader, as a father. He hoped what he had to present to Jason would go some way toward relieving those feelings.

“One of those matters was candidates for membership,” Bruce explained. “Jason, the JLA would like to formally invite the Red Hood to join the ranks of the Justice League Alliance.”

For a moment Jason stared at him, large hands gripping tight to the arms of the chair, the flickering of a muscle in his temple above his sea glass-green eyes revealing the rapidity with which his mind was analyzing Bruce's words.

“I...what?”  he finally asked, mouth drawn into a frown. “Is this...is this a joke?” Jason's words held a hint of anger, as if sensing this were a trick to hurt him, even if he couldn't see how.

Bruce shook his head. “Not at all. Diana nominated you, Green Arrow and Black Canary supported the nomination.”

Jason raised a brow, surprised. “Ollie did? I didn't think he liked me very much.”

“He doesn't exactly like Batman, either,” Bruce reminded him with a slight smile.

Bruce's reward for opening up was a wide smirk of amusement that took over Jason's face and reminded him of his son's Robin days.

Jason chuckled, “Well you're not exactly a ray of sunshine, B.”

“Hn,” he hummed.

Jason stood up from the computer chair and took a few steps as if to find room to breathe, a hand rising to rub at the back of his neck, his lips tight with difficult thoughts.

After some consideration, Jason looked up at Bruce, his casual facade brittle and showing it's cracks as he asked, “Why didn't you nominate me? Is it because...you don't think I'm good enough? Do you not want this?”

Despite the straight way in which Jason asked the question, Bruce knew this was important to him, knew the answer had the potential to break him wide open.

Bruce took a step closer and put a hand on Jason's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Pouring as much sincerity into his voice as he could, he assured his son, “Jay, you are absolutely good enough. You've proven it time and again. I didn't nominate you only because I didn't want to show favoritism towards my child, and because it simply wasn't necessary. I can't deny you've been unpredictable in the past, but the work you've been putting in the last year shows. You've been on the short list for a while now.”

Jason's voice cracked slightly as he said, “O-oh...” and ran a hand throw his hair in a gesture of anxiety. “I...it's not like I ever wanted this, ya know?”

Bruce nodded. “I know.”

Jason swallowed and weakly shrugged off Bruce's hand, gaze moving to look somewhere over his shoulder at the cave wall, maybe trying to convince himself of the fact as he stumbled over the words, “It's not like I care if you...if they...”

But Jason didn't need to convince Bruce of his self-sufficiency. He knew Jason was a strong person who did what he thought was right no matter the potential for risk or reward to either himself or his reputation. Jason would give up anything, anyone, even his family, even himself, if he thought it would save innocent lives. Bruce knew that—admired him for that. Jason didn't have anything to prove to Bruce on that score. Accepting or rejecting the offer wouldn't change that.

“You have every ability to turn down this invitation, Jason,” Bruce said, trying to explain, trying to reassure his son of his own strength. “I know you've never expressed an interest in joining the League, but I believe—the League believes—that you would be a valuable asset. Whether or not you want this, doesn't change that you deserve it. You don't have to decide now, and I'm here if you have any questions. I'm sure Dick, Barbara and Cassandra would love to talk about their experiences in the League as well, if you wanted to.”

Jason nodded vaguely. “I think I pretty much know everything. I've seen it from the outside for years.”

“True.” Of that Bruce had no doubts, he just wanted Jason to know he had resources to help him make a decision.

Jason sighed and looked up at the darkness of the cave ceiling as Bruce hovered, in case he was needed for something, anything. He didn't know what Jason could need from him, but he wanted to be there to give it.

“I want to do it, I think,” Jason said, appearing surprised at his own words, as if he hadn't realized that desire was in him until he'd voiced it. “Gotham's got a lot of vigilantes these days. The Outlaws are kind of defunct, to be honest. So...why not, ya know?”

Jason looked back at Bruce, his gaze intense as it always was, filled with passion and intelligence as he searched Bruce's face, trying to guess at his opinion.

Bruce simply nodded. “If that's what you want. I trust your decisions, Jay.”

At his words, Jason's expression slid into shock, eyes wide and vulnerable as he repeated, “You tru-trust...”

Halfway through the word Jason's voice cracked and his composure broke. His shoulders wilted inward and a hand hastily moved to conceal his eyes as they started to glisten with moisture. Jason's jaw became tight with tension, his lower lip quivering with the effort to remain silent as the tears began to fall down his cheak. Bruce felt a clenching in his heart and stepped forward, his own hands rising uselessly as he hesitated, trying to decide if this was a moment when Jason would want to be touched.

Luckily Jason took the decision away from him when he surprised Bruce by falling against his chest and wrapping him in a tight hug. Giving in to his own feelings, Bruce returned the embrace, squeezing closely the body that was now of a size with his own but which he could still remember being so small. They didn't do this very often. Bruce couldn't even remember the last time he'd held his second son, but he was suddenly aware that he wanted to do it more, and perhaps optimistically, he thought that opportunity was one Jason might be open to.

But for the time being, he just hugged Jason and combed his fingers through his son's hair and let him break down so he could build himself back up better. For so long Jason had seen himself as broken. For nearly as long Bruce had seen him as broken. But Jason hadn't been broken, he was just deeply hurt, and though the scars would always remain his son had healed. He'd thought of Jason that way for a while now. Maybe with this, Jason would start to see it too.

In the moment, none of this felt like a mistake, it felt like a wonderful gift. Perhaps 'mistake' was too harsh a word, because Bruce didn't actually regret any of what took place this night. And truth to tell, he regretted little of what happened after as well. What he did know was with this decision, Bruce's life had become condemned to a new level of misery.

Because by this time tomorrow, half of the Justice League would be in love or lust with Jason Todd.

#I might start posting to AO3 under the title 'Jay-Crazy' #Jason Todd #red Hood #Bruce Wayne #Batman #prologue #fanfic #Everyone Crushing on Jason AU #angst? #hurt/comfort? #something like that

[redhoodieone]

But I’m Your Kid!

A/N: Here we go again! Okay, so this is the 4th part of the, “But I’m…” series, and I’m so excited that the series has been well received. I don’t know if this will be the last one or not, because there was another idea (I’d only write this one if people want to read it), for a 5th story to the series, where Y/N is the adopted daughter of Superman and he meets Jason, Y/N’s fiancé for the first time, and the Batfamily is dreading that Superman to be a part of the family. I don’t know it could be called, “But I’m Your Father!” …but I guess we’ll see lol.

If anyone’s interested, this song helped me write this fic: Shinedown “I’ll Follow You”

OH! And since the whole Tom King drama (give me a round of applause, please), there’s MAJOR family fluff in here because I say so! 

Couples: Jason x Y/N, Bruce x Selina, Dick x Barbara.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, language, and adorable family moments. 

Introduction

It’s true the Todd family is beyond adorable. People who know them (or are complete strangers to them) can see Jason and Y/N that they’re clearly meant to be together. With Jason’s rough and tough exterior (but with teddy bear hugs behind closed doors) and Y/N’s kind and beautiful soul, the two balance and fit each other like ideal pieces in a thousand puzzles pieces game. While Jason has always been an angry, rash, and secretly sensitive guy, Y/N has been able to help him overcome his fears, insecurities, and make him feel like he belonged in the world after everything that’s happened to him.

 And he loved her for that.

 Because who knew the Damned Prince of Gotham and his Damned Princess of Gotham could be a match?

 And after only five years of marriage and a six-year-old son, Jason and I were very happy and finally at peace with their small family.

 It’s just an average Saturday afternoon when Jason brings us to the Manor to relax and spend time with the Batfamily. Alfred is in the kitchen with Tim as they’re preparing drinks and snacks for the family. Dick and Barbara are sitting beside Bruce and Selina on one couch while Jason and I hog the love seat. My husband pulls me onto his lap with an evil smirk on his handsome face.

 “I got the best seat in the house,” Jason laughs.

 “Behave!” I warn him. Barbara giggles at us.

 “Yes, please. None of us want to see that,” Bruce pleads.

 “Maybe some of us do,” Selina jokes. Bruce sighs and shakes his head at her.

 Even though Jason and I were practically all over each other, I couldn’t help but feel the heat rush to my pussy. I mean, it has been a few days since we’ve been intimate with each other. J.J, our young rebel has been behaving more needier than usual, and with him in between us in bed, it’s kind of difficult to show my husband how much I want him.

 And need him.

 It’s as if my Jay read my mind. One hand remains on my waist, as the other rubs up and down my thigh; almost pushing up my short black skirt I decided to wear to finally show off my curvy body after working out and taking better care of myself after giving birth to J.J. Jason eyes my button up white blouse that’s unbuttoned on the third button, which gives him a good view of my breasts being pushed up in my pushup bra.

 “I can guarantee you that I’m going to fucking wreck your pussy tonight,” Jason whispers in my ear, and kisses underneath my jaw. He grips me tighter, and groans heavily. “Maybe we can…you know? Try for another one?”

 “Another what?” I ask, confused.

 “A baby, doll,” he answers, as if I should have known. He raises his eyebrows, and his crystal blue eyes shine with the happiness he has fought for a very long time and cherishes every moment with J.J and me. “I…this isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but Y/N…I really want a little girl.”

 “A girl?” I repeat, shifting in his lap which makes him groan when my ass rubs against his already hard on.

 “Even though Jason just has to be gross about it…I agree,” Dick supports his brother.

 Bruce wraps a loving arm around Selina. I suddenly feel as if everyone here is thinking the same thing. Is that why we’re here?

 Is Jason’s family trying to help him convince me to give him a daughter?

Alfred comes into the living room with Tim trailing behind him. He sets down lemonade and freshly backed chocolate chip cookies. “I agree with everyone here, Lady Y/N. I would absolutely love to have a little girl running around here and brighten this dark mansion,” Alfred reveals.

 “Dark mansion?” Bruce asks. He cannot believe Alfred. “When has this home ever been dark, Alfred?”

 “I’m merely speaking about how this home has always been grim and filled with sadness before. But if I may so Master Bruce, you and the boys have lived here with your tragedies, and a beautiful little girl laughing can make this home bright and loving,” Alfred explains.

 “I have to agree with him,” Barbara mentions.

 “Maybe if you smile more and give off a more positive and upbeat vibe!” Dick suggests.

 “I swear to-”

 “Master Bruce! Language! Master J.J will hear you!” Alfred scolds him.

 “Too late, Pennyworth,” Damian says, entering the living room with my son behind him. Damian covers his entire body with Bruce’s cowl and cape, while J.J is wearing his new and improved Robin costume. I feel my heart beat faster because J.J is the spitting image of Jason; and my heart is filled with so much love at the sight of him. “J.J and I have heard everything.”

 “Everything?” I ask slowly. This can’t be happening.

 “Of course, Todd. J.J is smart enough to know everything adults speak of considering I have informed him and taught him well enough these last few months. I have even taken the liberty to teach him sexual intercourse just an hour ago, so you wouldn’t have to. I imagine speaking to children about sexual ideas and facts can be scarring for parents,” Damian confesses normally.

 Jason clears his throat. He is as shocked as I am. “What…did you say you did?” he asks quietly, with poison in his voice.

 “Oh please, Todd. Just a week ago, you, Grayson, Drake, and I were speaking about women and your mannerisms in bed at our Friday night poker game. Like how Gordon hasn’t been putting out for Grayson, and how Y/N has been distant and not ‘touching you enough’ Todd. Drake doesn’t have a sex life at the moment, so he remained alone and silent. J.J even heard the sexual discussions that night, and since you are an obvious and annoying loudmouth, you didn’t know he was behind you. He asked me questions, and I answered them truthfully,” Damian answers.

 “Damian!” Dick snaps.

 “This is why we don’t invite you to play sometimes!” Tim shouts.

 I glare at Jason who just gives me a guilty smile. Fuck I love that man so much…even when I want to shoot his kneecaps for talking about our sex life with his brothers and son behind him.

It’s silent between all of us. Just the thought of J.J (already a smart ass and smart kid in general) knowing sex at this age frightens me so much. Since my husband and J.J’s father, Jason Peter Todd has a high sex drive and is constantly thinking about sex, I fear J.J will turn out to be exactly like him!

 I can just picture young J.J telling the other kids about hand jobs, blowjobs, and tea bagging for fuck’s sake!

 “Mom...Dad...I have a question,” J.J asks, his voice soft and anxious which immediately gathers mine and Jason’s attentions. His bright blue eyes are full of innocence and curiosity. He runs a hand through his messy dark hair like Jason; like father like son. He moves closer to us and stops in front of me. He frowns. “I need answers. I need the truth.”

 “What’s your question?” I ask slowly. Even when I feel my body tense and I already fear the worst; I rub his back to ease his nerves. “You can ask us anything.”

 “Of course, kid. Ask away,” Jason encourages their son, even though he’s clearly anxious, too.

 J.J’s blue eyes sparkle with all the interest and wonder in the world. His frown turns into a smile. “I have to know. It’s been bugging me lately...where did I come from? How was I really created?” he asks.

 I instantly feel myself stunned by his question. He’s only six-years-old and how could he be wondering about this right now?! Didn’t Damian tell him about sex already?!

 Jason freezes with his eyes open wide and mouth hanging open at our son. Everyone around us is quiet and wondering how this will all play out. I gently shake him to awaken him from his daze and he forces himself to look at J.J.

 “Y-you want to know h-how you were created?” Jason asks slowly.

 “Yes,” J.J replies.

 “You want to know where you came from?” Jason asks seriously.

 “Yes,” J.J says.

 “You want to know how you were created? And you want to know where you came from?” Jason repeats.

 “Yes! How was I created?!” J.J cries out hysterically. He’s dying to know!

 Jason begins to sweat and tremble. He always did promise to shield and protect J.J no matter what. “Well...uh...you see J.J, when a man and a woman, well in your case, me and your mom love each other very much, they-” Jason begins nervously until I interrupt him.

 “Honey,” I say, hoping I can find the courage to answer his questions. I must be strong. I must be his strong mother. “If Damian already talked to you about sex, then why are you asking us about it?”

 “Uncle Damian did tell me about sex, but he couldn’t answer some questions,” J.J explains hastily.

 I take a deep breath. “Okay, ask us.” I say gently.

 “Where was I created? How did you and dad create me?” J.J asks casually, even when his eyes are clearly begging for information. His question basically covers the, ‘where did I come from’ question.

 “If you already know sex, then are you asking where your dad and I…created you?” I ask slowly. I can feel my stomach hurt.

 “Yeah Mom,” J.J says nodding his head.

 Bruce gives me a look; the look that tells me to tell the truth, or otherwise J.J will get the wrong idea about his life. I nod my head and lick my lips as well. I settle more into Jason’s lap, and he glances at me to see what I’ll say.

 “You mean location?” I ask, making sure I understand the question.

 “Yeah,” J.J confirms.

 “I believe…you were created at Uncle Dick’s birthday party,” I answer honestly. Because if my memory serves me right, Jason and I were drunk that night. After too many shots of Fireball and Patron, we ended up having sex a few times, and I knew we weren’t using protection. “Your dad and I had too much fun, and we thought about starting a family right then and there!”

 “Really? At Uncle Dick’s birthday party?” J.J asks, seemingly surprised and thankful about it.

 Okay, because I don’t think J.J is old enough to know we were so drunk and careless. If I must be honest about sex, I will be.

 “Yeah, exactly! We-we wanted a boy and that’s the place where we decided to make you, kid!” Jason adds with support for me.

 “Seriously?” Dick whispers to us. While I remain focused on J.J, I can feel Jason flipping him off behind my back.

 “Okay,” J.J begins before looking at Jason and I. “How was I created?”

 “From sex,” Jason answers quickly.

 “Exactly how Uncle Damian taught you a while ago,” I say.

 J.J shakes his head at us. “No, no I mean…” J.J trails off before he finally gives us his undivided attention. “Were you on top of Mom? Was Mom on top of you, Dad? Did you do it sideways or upside down? Or did you hump Mom’s butt like a dog, Dad? Uncle Damian says you’re a real dog is that’s true.”

 Jason’s eyes widen. I cover my face as everyone else bursts into laughter, including Alfred. J.J suddenly blushes in embarrassment, and then I realize his curiosity is not to be laughed at or ignored. I end up removing myself from Jason, and I pull J.J to me so I can hold him.

 “Don’t be embarrassed, J.J. It’s perfectly normal to ask questions, even if they’re…scary or embarrassing. But your Dad and I promise to try to answer all your questions the best we can,” I tell him. I caress his cheeks, and I decide to answer since I’m sure everyone else is just as curious as this little boy. And even though it was a drunken night, the bruises on my ass and hips proved we did in fact do…doggy style. “If you must know, your Dad and I did the last sexual pose you said, and he didn’t do it in my butt; he did it in my vagina.”

 “But why?” J.J asks seriously. “Why did you choose that pose to make me?”

 “Maybe we should stop this conversation,” Jason suggests. His body tenses and his eyes say he’s too afraid to keep talking.

 “Why should we? I want to know,” J.J replies anxiously.

 “You really shouldn’t know,” Jason tries to reason with him.

 “BUT I’M YOUR KID! AND I WANT TO KNOW RIGHT NOW!” J.J yells angrily.

 “BECAUSE IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD, KID! IT’S OUR FAVORITE POSITION! Trust me, when you do it one day you’ll see why,” Jason admits, lowering his voice after his outburst to answer J.J.

 “Oh my God!” Dick bursts into laughter as he and Tim fall to the floor, holding their stomachs and crying with real tears of joy. “I-I can’t believe you said that!”

 “Shut up Dick!” Barbara hisses at him.

 “At least Master J.J can rest his curious mind,” Alfred sighs.

 “Imbeciles…” Damian mutters under his breath.

 “I think you did a great job,” Bruce praises me. He and Selina stand up and hug Jason, J.J and I. “You too, Jason.”

 “Even if Y/N did most of the work,” Selina lightly teases Jason.

 Jason finally snaps out of his frozen state and smiles down at me and J.J. He picks up J.J, and uses his other arm to wrap around me. “You’re the best, you know that right, doll?”

“I’m the best too!” J.J whines.

 Jason chuckles and tickles J.J. I kiss Jason’s cheek, and I finally decide to give in. “Maybe we should have another baby,” I whisper to him.

 “Yeah? Really?” Jason asks, raising his eyebrows with a silly grin on his face.

 “Yeah,” I confirm my decision. “I really think we should. I mean, I feel like we’re ready.”

 Jason kisses me and hugs our son in between us. “I believe we are ready, too,” Jason agrees.

 “Then let’s make our family bigger,” I say strongly.

 J.J smiles and hugs us both. The idea of him being a big brother must be something he wants as well. And just when Jason and I are about to seal the deal with a kiss, J.J clears his throat to get our attention, and the rest of the families as well.

 “Yeah, kid?” Jason asks, as we look at J.J.

 “I just have one more question: if you didn’t do it in Mom’s butt, then where did you put your thingy? Her vagina is up front, right?” J.J asks, his wondering mind is at it again.

 Jason and I sigh because tonight is going to be a long night of the never-ending sex talk.

 And to think Jason and I are going to make a girl next.

 Lord help us.

#dc comics #batfamily #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #bruce wayne #selina kyle #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #barbara gordon

[certifiedskywalker]

Pieces - Dick Grayson

It had been a few years since you had last seen Dick Grayson, but mere minutes since you last thought of him. So when he shows up to your door, you can hardly believe your eyes. Maybe things had changed. Maybe Dick had changed. You know you had.

You stretched from your spot on your desk chair, twisting until your back cracked. A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back with your eyes scanning over the laptop before you. Another breath and you closed the screen, satisfied with the work you had completed. With a glance at the nearest clock, you realized you had been sitting there for close to five hours.

Letting out a disgruntled groan, you stood and pushed your chair away. You rubbed your eyes as you walked into your small kitchen. Turning to your fridge, your clouded mind began to clear. Your gaze focused on a magnet. It was a tacky tourist magnet, one you had forgotten about long ago. You picked it up from the cool metal surface, letting your fingers trace over the nooks and crannies of the plastic.

New York City. If you closed your eyes, you could remember it still. The towering skyscrapers and packed streets. Smells of salty street food and the crashing of ocean waves flooded your mind; but the memory that stuck out to you the most wasn’t local to the city that never sleeps. Dick Grayson right beside you, fingers intertwined and smiling at you was the image so imprinted in your brain.

You opened your eyes and set the magnet on the counter. Biting your lip, you felt a wave of pain wash over your shoulders. In an attempt to quell your thoughts, you made your way to your bedroom. You hadn’t thought of that trip, you hadn’t thought of Dick Grayson, in while. You hadn’t allowed yourself to dive back into that pool for the fear that you would drown.

There was a moment in time where you felt, despite it all, you and Dick could make things work. You could save each other from the years of violence and training. That moment was a mere memory now, one you had buried after that trip to New York City. You realized afterwards, that trip was a last ditch effort for Dick.

You had fallen for the boy faster and harder than anyone ever before. You had thought that it was the same for him, but you were young; you were foolish. And Dick Grayson left a scar on your heart. He had left you bleeding, your broken feelings spilling all over the floor.

He had told you it was him, that Bruce’s training had its hooks in deep; that there was no saving him. He told you that he had to leave to you could save yourself. Leave it to Dick to try to save you at his own expense. You had argued that you were already saved. The time you had both taken away from the fighting, from being vigilantes, had given you a fresh perspective. You knew what you wanted and you wanted him.

As it turned out, the time away from being Robin had left Dick directionless. He had to leave, or so he said. With hurt and heartache, you watched him run off to find himself again. Despite your pain, you had silently hoped that he would find what he was looking for; even if that something wasn’t you.

Even now, when your brain is swamped with the memories you both shared, you hoped that Dick was happy. While you heart had bled and stained, you felt more yourself than ever. You had retired from the crime-fighting world, found a stable job you enjoyed, and some normal friends. Although, part of you still wished that Dick was still beside you.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you reached for a jacket from your closet. You purposefully avoided staring into the space for too long because you knew that some of Dick’s old shirts were hanging up and mixed in with your own. You hadn’t had the will to get rid of them. Ignoring them, you shrugged on your jacket and grabbed your keys. A walk would do you good. Maybe, if you were lucky you could catch a sunrise.

As your hand wrapped around the door knob, you took a shaky breath and opened it. You nearly stumbled as you took a half step out of the door. What hindered your movement stood before you, with those soft brown eyes and seemingly permanent frown. Your breath caught in your throat as you wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you.

“Hi,” Dick said, his eyes holding your gaze calmly. There was a glimmer in them that you read as worry and it broke you from your trance.

“Hi.” It was a simple word, but a lifetime of weight rested on it. “Uh, come, come on in.”

As you spoke your eyes caught that of a dark haired girl that lingered behind Dick. Her blue eyes were wide, almost as if she were startled by some unseen force. You moved away from the doorway and allowed them inside. Dick took the girl’s bag and set their belongings on the small table near the kitchen. He turned to face you again, his eyes scanning over you figure.

“I’m sorry about this, we just didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Dick explained, gesturing to the girl. “This is Rachel. I’m trying to….I’m keeping her safe.” The girl stepped forward and extended a hand to you.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. You offered her a warm smile and took her hand. A moment of complete darkness flashed before your vision and that familiar wave of emotions washed over you once more. When sight returned to you, Rachel’s hand was at her side and her eyes were glaring at Dick.

“Safe from what?” You questioned, shaking your head slightly. Dick let out a sigh and you saw his shoulders sagged. He suddenly looked so tired, reminiscent of the nights when Bruce forced him out. “You can tell me later, you turned to Rachel, “let’s get you settled in, yeah?”

You spent the next half of an hour getting the girl settled comfortably in your bedroom. You showed her where the bathroom is and told her which blankets were the warmest. She was a soft-spoken girl, but you could sense something within her. There was something about the timid way that she carried herself that hinted at a power deep inside. You left her be after you gave her the remote to your television and walked back into the kitchen.

Dick stood by the counter, fiddling with something. You watched him for a moment, taking in his form. He hadn’t changed too much. His hair was styled differently, but his coat was the same brown leather one you had known from years ago. You cleared your throat and Dick turned to face you. He held out the object he was holding to you and your mouth went dry.

“You still have this?” He handed you the magnet from earlier and you took it from his hand. Your fingers brushed against his and you fought the urge to gasp. You didn’t realize that you had missed him, his touch, so badly.

“Of course,” you said, trying to sound nonchalantly, “I love that city.” Dick nodded, his gaze lifting from your hands to your eyes. You found yourself staring into his eyes but couldn’t help but wander deeper. That glimmer had remained. Maybe it wasn’t worry after all. “So, um, what’s the story with the girl?”

Dick rubbed a hand over his face and let out a sigh. As quickly and as detailed as he could, he explained the last few days he had had. The running with Rachel, trying to get her to safety and away from the people after her. As he told the story, you couldn’t help but smile. He sounded so much like Bruce. Saving a lost child, protecting them, teaching them. You could never tell him that, you knew that much, but it was nice to see he had found a purpose that was outside of the realm of Robin.

“That’s it,” he sighed, “at least, for now. I’m sorry again, Y/N, I was hoping that-”

“It’s alright, Dick,” you interrupted, giving him a half-hearted smile. “You’ve both had it rough. You can crash here as long as you need.”

“We can leave soon. I’m planning to stop by Hank and Dawn’s. They could protect her better than I can.” Your brows furrowed at his words and you straighten your back. You had been leaning against the counter as Dick, who sat at the kitchen table, told the story.

“That’s bullshit,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “They’ve got their own lives to deal with, Dick, and this girl trusts you.”

“She shouldn’t.”

“Well, she does,” you said, taking a step towards him, “and you better not make her regret that.” Dick stared into your eyes as you spoke and you felt your cheeks burn under his gaze. You had forgotten the effect he had on you.

“Don’t you regret trusting me?” The question almost sounded innocent, but the truth behind it stung. You swallowed hard, taking a step back. Eyelids fluttering in shock, you tried to put together a good answer; if there was one. You decided it was better to speak your mind.

“N-No, I don’t. You’re a good person, even if you wander at times. You always come back to your heart.” Dick was quiet for a long moment and it felt like hours until he spoke up.

“I-I…” Dick trailed off, his eyes turning away from you. You nodded sadly to yourself.

“You don’t have to believe me, Dick, but it’s true.” Your words drew his eyes back to you and you felt your heart skip a beat. “You can take the couch,” you said, trying to distract yourself, “I have an air mattress I can use in my office.”

“Y/N,” before you could even think, Dick was standing in front of you. You had also forgotten just how fast he could move if he really wanted to. You bit your bottom lip to keep from tearing up before meeting his gaze coldly.

“What?”

“I meant what I said,” he said, “about having to leave. I felt like I would only drag you down and now with all of...what’s been going on, I feel that I was right.”

You scoffed. “Really? You’re going to be that arrogant?” Dick shook his head as you tried to push past him. You gritted your teeth and stared up at him.

“But, if I had stayed….things would be different. Better, I think. I’m sorry that I didn’t stay then and I’m sorry that I’m coming back now. You don’t deserve this and I never deserved you.” You felt your face relax, your jaw unclenched at his words; but they didn’t stop the hurt.

“You broke my heart,” you choked out in a whisper. “Nothing I did, for a long time could wash out the stain you left behind.” Dick frowned. You saw that glimmer again and you realized it was remorse. He had changed, but Dick Grayson was still as lost as ever; and he was right. Nothing you could do could save him from that. So instead of arguing the point further you took a breath.

You leaned up on your toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. When you pulled away, his brown eyes were glued to you. You saw his hands threatening to reach out, ready to pull you close to him like he used. You longed for that touch, but knew better than to entertain such fantasies.

“Y/N-”

“When this is over, when you finally make peace with who you are in here,” you pressed a gentle hand against his chest, “maybe you can help me pick up the pieces.” You stared into his eyes for another brief moment before walking past him. You stopped, looking a bit over your shoulder. Dick’s back faced you, but you knew he could still hear you. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Dick Grayson.”

With that, you walked to your office space and settled in for the night. When your head rested against your pillow, for the first time in forever, you knew that you would sleep soundly. For while Dick wasn’t with you in the way you longed for him to be, he was there. Hopefully, this time, he would stay.

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