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hintofelation99 · 3 years

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Kate Babysits

Bruce: Kate I have an emergency.

Kate: What's up Bruce?

Bruce: A sorcerer put a deaging spell on the kids and-

Kate: And you need my help tracking down the sorcerer? No problem I-

Bruce: Actually I was going to see if you could babysit while I figure this out.

Kate just glares at him: Why can't Alfred babysit? Or your Justice League friends? Or, maybe, just maybe, you could hire a fucking babysitter!

Bruce, sighing: Please Kate, just stay back and babysit, please?

Kate: ...fine, but just remember I have no idea how to entertain kids, so if anything goes wrong it's on you.

Bruce, rolling his eyes: Sure, what's the worst that can happen?

-> 30 minutes later <-

Kate holds a two month old Damian as she looks down at a 4 y/o Duke, 5 y/o Tim, 5 y/o Steph, 6 y/o Cass, 6 y/o Jason, 11 y/o Dick, and 12 y/o Babs.

Kate: Okay kiddos, remember what auntie Katie taught you, no shooting in the house or at eachother.

Hands the kids guns.

Babs: Miss Katie, are you sure this is a good idea?

Kate: Of course it is swe- JASON! You will not try to shoot Tim! And stop chasing him before- Oh no...

Tim falls down the manor stairs, knocks out his front teeth. Kate shifts Damian to one arm and runs to the now crying Tim, picking him up and holding him on her hip, she checks him over.

Kate: Oh fuck! Bruce is gonna kill me!

Steph: Fuck!

Kate slowly turning to look at Steph: ...no

Steph, runs away yelling: FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!

Kate: Shit!

Dick, opens his mouth

Kate: Don't you dare! Go swing from a chandelier or something.

-> 5 minutes later <-

Cass: F- fu- fuck!

Kate: What?! How??

Steph, looking very proud: Cass and I played school and I taught her a new word!

Kate: Why would you-

A loud crash comes from the foyer.

Kate: shitshitshitshit.

Sees Dick on floor, mostly unharmed other than some bruises and a cut on his hand from a sharp metal edge on the chandelier.

Kate: What did you do?!

Dick: You told me to swing from a chandelier!!

Kate: It's called sarcasm!

Babs, sticking her tongue out at Dick: He's only 11, and my dad says that sarcasm is for adults. Like me!

Kate, looking unimpressed: How old are you?

Babs, looking very proud: I'm 12!

Kate: Well, that sucks because sarcasm is for 13 and up.

Babs looks offended and Dick sticks out his tongue at her.

Kate, shoves Damian into Barbara's arms: Take this, Tim I'm gonna need you to let go so I can bandage up Dick's hand.

Tim, now speaking with a lisp: Noooooo! I'm still sad!

Kate: Tim, please.

Tim just sniffles and gives her puppy dog eyes.

Kate: Fine! I can do this one handed.

-> 10 minutes and one bandaged hand later <-

Kate: Okay Dick, this time you stay near me.

Dick immediately treats Kate like a jungle gym and climbs on to her shoulders.

Dick: Okay!

Kate: Oh my god you're heavy, aren't you a little old to be carried?

Dick: But my hand hurts too much to walk!

Kate, rolling her eyes: Okay okay fine. At least I can still hold the baby, now where did Babs go?

Now with Dick on her shoulders, and Tim on her right hip she walks into the study to find the entrance to the batcave open.

Kate: Shit!!

Kate runs into the batcave and sees Cass practicing with all the weapons while Steph runs in circles around her. Damian has been placed on one of the lab tables near several tubes of acid, fear toxin, cuddle pollen, etc. instead of watching Damian Barbara is typing something on the batcomputer. Duke is still yelling fuck, but now he's also playing with a flame thrower.

Kate, picking up Damian with her left arm: Barbara stay away from there! Steph, Cass, come here right now! Duke, do not play with fire! Wait, where's Jason??

Looking around frantically Kate sees a holding cell. She puts Dick and Tim in there while she goes to catch the others.

Tim: Nooooo!!!

Kate: Dick, your brother is sad, give him cuddles!

Dick immediately pulling Tim into a hug and soothing him: Okay!

Kate takes away Duke's flamethrower: Do you know your abc's?

Duke, looking offended: Of course I do! I can write my name and all my abc's and-

Kate, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper: That's great, show me everything you can write.

Duke nods excitedly and Kate ushers him into the holding cell with Dick and Tim. She gives him the pen and paper, Duke starts to slowly write his name and the alphabet. Kate grabs Steph and Cass.

Kate: Hey Stephie?

Steph: Yes Miss Katie?

Kate: Duke is trying to learn how to write big words, and since you're such a good teacher I thought you could help!

Steph nods excitedly and immediately follows Kate into the cell to help. Kate picks up Cass and leaves the cell, locking the door on her way out.

Kate: Okay, Babs, what are you doing?

Barbara: Playing a video game.

Kate looks on the screen and sees that Baba has accessed the watch tower security cameras and is repeatedly turning alarms, lights, weapons systems, etc on and off. Superman and Green Lantern are freaking out while frantically searching for an invader.

Kate, nods looking slightly concerned: Okay, you have fun with that...

Kate runs upstairs to find Jason, after looking for an hour she finds him twirling a gun and reading a book in the library.

Kate: Wow, I guess somethings never change.

Jason looking up: What'd you say?

Kate: Nothing. Hey, where's your old DS?

Jason: Upstairs in-

Kate: Sweet, show me.

Jason: But I'm-

Kate: Show me now and I'll give you cookies.

Jason: hmmm... okay!

-> After grabbing the DS <-

Kate: Okay, grab all the books you want and follow me to the batcave.

They walk down to the cave and Kate puts Jason in the holding cell with Duke, Steph, Tim, and Dick. Jason is completely unphased by the others surrounding him, instead of addressing them he starts reading again.

Kate: Hey Babs, come here!

Babs: I'm in the middle of a game!

Green Lanterns screams can be heard coming from the speakers.

Kate: Wouldn't you rather play Cooking Mama?

Babs turns on all the alarms in the watch tower, turns off all the lights, and activates all major weapons before taking the DS and playing with it in the holding cell.

Kate: Uhhh, okay Cass, what do you like?

Cass looks at her confused. Kate looks around and sees a knife on the table.

Kate: Here, play with this, just keep it away from the others.

Cass happily walks into the cell while twirling the knife. Kate sighs in relief as she locks the door. She starts to sit down when Damian starts screaming.

Kate, rocking him: Shhhhhh, okay, okay. Uhhhh.

Damian starts flailing around, occasionally he's able to pull on a lock of her hair. She holds him at arms length and continues to rock him, this time it's more awkward due to her arms being completely extended. She sets him down a training mat to find something to sooth him. When she looks back on him he's giggling and gnawing at the handle of a sword.

Kate, shrugging: That works

-> 2 hours later <-

Bruce walks into the cave to see Kate asleep on the training mats, 2 month old Damian beside her chewing on a sword, and all of his other kids entertaining themselves in a holding cell that contains several knives and guns.

Bruce: KATE!! Did you give the kids weapons?!

Kate, opening her eyes sleepily: Wha-? Oh, yeah, couldn't find any toys.

Bruce: ...Next time I'm calling Roy.

Kate just shrugs as Bruce opens the cell door. Steph and Duke come running out, chasing eachother. Cass follows the two timidly. Jason keeps reading. Dick awkwardly carries a sleeping Tim. Bruce smiles takes Tim from Dick.

Bruce, as Tim slowly blinks his eyes open and yawns: Hey Timm- What happened to his teeth?!

Kate: ...uhhh, gotta go!

572 notes · View notes

butwhyduh · 3 years

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A Date to Remember

Damian Wayne x Superman’s daughter reader

Damian is 20, reader 19, Jon is her little brother at 18 and Kon acts like an older brother to her.

Warning: angsty and kidnapping

You’d always told Damian that the sunset on the Kent farm was the best in the world. Damian smiled a little as he drove down the long road to Smallville. Damian had thought about classic dinner date in one of Metropolis’ fanciest restaurants but you insisted on meeting him in a barn.

He felt underdressed. Blue jeans and a flannel shirt. Why did he let Jon help him get dressed? He felt ridiculous but at least he wore sensible shoes. But deep down Damian knew you world like it. And he was certainly willing to feel a little foolish for you.

Clark was off world and Lois was on a mission. Jon had his own date in the city so it was the both of you alone tonight. How long had it been since the two of you were alone without someone around? Between his half a dozen brothers and your family with literal super hearing... yeah it’s been tough. So being 50 miles from everyone was kind of a dream.

Damian pulled in the driveway with some flowers and walked up to the house. He knocked on the door only for it to swing open. Damian noticed the splintered door frame and his heart sped up. He called your name. Act like the rich billionaire son while working like Robin, even though he wasn’t quite sure he still wanted the name.

He scanned every surface and he noticed a small scratch near the back door after looking through every room. Most people wouldn’t even notice it. You weren’t there. He looked closely and saw drag marks in the gravel path to the barn. His heart was thundering at this point. You weren’t in the barn either.

You were half Kryptonian but the genetic inheritance was complicated. Jon had won the lottery with having most of his father’s powers and not being as sensitive to Kryptonite. You had lost it. Hypersensitive to Kryptonite and only some speed and increased hearing and strength. Barely about the average human. You weren’t a fighter.

Damian pulled out his phone to call Jon.

“Bit busy here, Damian,” Jon said, sounding far from amused. Damian could hear kissing noises in the background and frowned. He didn’t want to hear that.

“Your sister is missing,” he said and he heard a lot of movement on the phone.

“What??”

“The door jam was kicked in and there are scrap marks of her being dragged away. I think she’s been kidnapped,” Damian said. His voice felt tight. He, son of Batman, let his girlfriend get kidnapped. “Whoever it was clearly waited until she had no other Kryptonians around to grab her. It wasn’t a coincidence that she was taken tonight. Can you get out here? I’m calling father to try and trace her. Her phone is missing too.”

“I’m leaving in 5. Damian, if Luther has her, she can’t handle Krytonite,” Jon said, worry bleeding into his voice. “It’s like it poisons her.”

“I know. But we don’t know who has her. Let’s hope they don’t know she’s part Krytonian,” Damian said, already mentally moving on to his next step. Contact Bruce. Get the bat computer to trace her. Look for more evidence. Don’t freak out completely that she might be poisoned by Kyrotonite.

“Okay. I’m about to fly. I’ll see you soon,” Jon said before hanging up.

——————————

You woke up with a cough. You head throbbed and your stomach rolled as you laid in a bed? Maybe a couch? It was a horrible feeling but you knew exactly what it was: Kryptonite. You couldn’t forget what how that stuff made you feel. You tried to look around to see it but the room was completely dark. Night vision would be nice but you got human eyes. Your slightly enhanced hearing heard nothing but the wind outside. Okay, you were ground level or higher.

You tried to twist in the cuffs that bound your hands only to cry out. There was the Kryptonite. It was on the outside of the cuffs and you almost threw up at it touched your skin. You were cuffed with Kryptonite to a hospital bed, you figured. What other bed had areas perfect for cuffs? Your legs were equally restrained and you felt so exposed in the dark room.

Your dad was off world. He wouldn’t hear you if you called for him. But Jon might. But if you yelled, someone might come in and who knows what they would do. You’d wait a little bit longer. You wanted to fall asleep. The Kryptonite made you feel so dull. Like the first time you were exposed to it.

You were all of 4 years old. Your dad had brought you with him to the Justice League meeting. Relatively safe and Batman promised Robin would watch you. Dick was so excited to be a babysitter. You had hugged him tight enough to hurt before running to the climbing wall.

“Hey!” Called the 16 year old. “I brought games instead!”

You warily walked back over to him and card games and board games fell out of a duffle bag as he opened it. Half the stuff you were far too young for. You bent down as he scooped up his gameboy. You pulled out some games and open a side pocket to grab a small metal box. Dick sat down his gameboy carefully before turning back to you.

“Don’t open th-“ he started before you pulled open the box to show a bright green stone. Followed by you throwing up all over his bag of games. You dropped the box and sat on the floor. Dick quickly closed the box with the piece of Kryptonite and put it in his pocket. He had boroughed one of Bruce’s bags that apparently wasn’t fully unpacked.

“Dad, I don’t feel good,” you said as Clark ran over. Dick looked at you so guiltily.

“I didn’t know,” he swore. “I’m so sorry.” Bruce stood by quietly.

“We need to talk later,” Clark had told Bruce and yeah, they were mad at each other for a while.

——————————————

Jon arrived shortly in a dress shirt and slacks and he looked at Damian just as weird as Damian looked at him. They had basically switched clothing.

“Not to judge but that’s date clothing? You told me to not wear flannel,” Jon said accusingly.

“That’s because your sister wanted me to wear this,” Damian said back. “Let’s focus on finding her. Father’s calling me now. We’ll change in a minute.”

“Hello, you’re on speaker phone,” Damian said.

“Her tracker is showing a warehouse owned by Luthor Corp in downtown Metropolis,” Bruce said. “Do you need help? I can see if Dick is nearby.”

“No thanks. Jon will help me. Thank you, father,” Damian said before hanging up.

“Luthor. I knew it,” Jon said with a frown. “Wait, you put a tracker on my sister? Does she know?”

“Now is not the time. Let’s get to Metropolis,” Damian said, changing the subject while both got dressed. Jon nodded and offered his arms. “I’m not being carried like that. I’ll hold on your back,” Damian said. Jon rolled his eyes and nodded again.

As they flew over corn fields and pastures, Jon began to question Damian. “So when did you put this tracker in? Does she even know? Where is it? Do I want to even know?”

“It’s sub-dermal in her forearm and I haven’t told her yet. And it’s irrelevant right now as it might save her life,” Damian said and Jon looked disgusted. “We need to focus on saving her and then you can be her angry brother.”

“Wow...”

————————————

You moved and the cuffs burned your skin. You gasped and screamed “Jon! Kon!” You called out to them hoping one of them would hear you.

“Dad!” you cried frantic. There was no way he would hear you. “Damian! Jonathan! Conner!”

You panted and your head pounded. You were so tired. You’d lose consciousness if no one saved you. Then who knows what they would do to you.

“Superman!” You screamed desperately before finally passing out.

——————————

“Did you hear that?” Jon said as they flew towards the Metropolis skyline.

“No all I hear is wind. What did you hear?” Damian said.

“Y/n. She’s calling for us,” Jon said speeding up.

“Is she okay?” Fear bled into Damian’s voice.

“I can’t tell. I’m trying to hurry,” Jon said flying quickly towards the industrial area of the city. He landed on the roof of a warehouse. Jon’s eyes glowed as he looked through the building.

“7 men. 4 posted outside the door to the room that’s she’s being held on the 2nd floor. Her heart rate is steady and she isn’t screaming any more. Almost sounds asleep,” Jon said after his analysis.

“Probably tranquilizer. Father’s data said this building is used for research purposes. Does that fit?” Damian asked.

“Uh more like research subject holding. Maybe a small lab on the first floor but other than cameras everywhere, there isn’t much science stuff that I can scan. But also the basement is sealed off,” Jon said.

“How?”

“Lead bound. You can check it out while I rescue her. 4 guys is nothing,” Jon said making a fist.

“Hold on. Luthor would probably have her surrounded by Kryptonite. Just in case one of you look for her. And that’s the last thing we need,” Damian said. “I’ll rescue her and you look for the basement. Knowing Luthor, it’s probably an entire facility of experiments below. He just hadn’t gotten her room ready yet.”

Jon looked frustrated. “Fine. You rescue her but be careful. She is the weakest of us. She’s not invulnerable to bullets or anything.”

“Most of the people I rescue aren’t either,” Damian reminded him. “And I’m certainly not taking a chance with my beloved.”

Jon looked over to respond but Damian was already gone. Just like the rest of the bats: silent goodbyes. Jon quietly moved down to the first floor. He was working but at the same time, his ear was trained on his sister’s heartbeat. Jon might be the younger sibling but she didn’t have powers and he felt so protective.

—————————————

Damian rolled his eyes at the 5 ways he could see that the security sucks in the 3 minutes he hung out the window before climbing in. Large rafters and guards who didn’t bother to look up. Not to mention the fact that they let there be a solid wall between the set of guards which meant that Damian was easily able to jump down to knock them out in pairs without the other set knowing. If the security was any worse they would leave the door unlocked.

The door wasn’t unlocked but it was a deadbolt that Damian easily disabled. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was on purpose. He gulped before opening the door. What if you were really hurt? Or dead? Ignore and get in there.

Damian opened the door and he felt white hot rage. You were tied to a bed and were unconscious. You were in a nice dressy shirt and sweatpants. They’d clearly taken you while you were getting dressed. Damian wanted to kill them. He had to take a breath to help you. Jon was taking them out and Damian was on rescue. He had to stay level headed.

Even the cuffs on your wrists were inadequate. If they had attempted to restrain Damian, he would have gotten out in 3 minutes. When he was 6 years old. The Kryptonite had left nasty red burns on your skin and he clenched his jaw at the sight. Jon better be punching extra hard.

Damian picked you up bridal style and you groaned a little before turning your head against his chest. The farther he got you from that fucking Kryotonite the better you were. He took you to the roof and you started waking up.

“Damian,” you said softly and a little confused.

“Hey you’re awake. How are you feeling?” He asked looking all over your face for injury.

“Kryptonite. I hate that stuff,” you said. Damian grabbed your hand and you hissed. He looked to see bright red knuckles. You’d clearly fought at some point. He certainly knew the signs of punching someone.

“You fought back?”

“Yeah and hitting someone in a helmet and body armor sucks. I got just a few in before they pulled out the damn rock. I throw up every damn time,” you said shaking your head.

Before Damian could comment on how brave and stupid it was to punch body armor, there was a huge crash down on the first floor as someone flew in the building through the window. You grabbed him tightly.

“What the hell is that?”

“Kon. Conner’s here. I’m up here,” you yelled.

Conner flew up to the roof. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Kidnapped. Damian and Jon saved me. He’s still down there actually. Can you check on him?” You said. Damian suddenly stood up.

“What if you were a distraction and the real problem is downstairs?” Damian suddenly said with clarity. The Kryptonite alone was enough to hold you down. The half ass security was to hold their attention when they rescued you. Jon was already flying back down before Damian could say more. Damian weighed his options: leave you alone, bring you with him, or stay out of it and while the last sounded nice, he’d have to go in case of more Kryptonite.

Before Damian could decide, Kon was back on the roof. “You’ve got to come see this.”

Downstairs was a lead lined basement. That alone had you nervous. Jon stood by the door. Little spattering of blood could be seen on his hands. He had a hard look.

“Warning: this is going to be messed up,” he said and you were even more worried. You walked in to see cages. Kids. Unconscious adults lay around in the hallway. “They were experimenting on them.”

You felt nauseous.

“My father is on the way. This is much bigger than I thought,” Damian said messing with his comms. His free hand was on your shoulder protectively.

There were 8 kids in cages. Bruce was running tests on their blood and investigating the area as you helped to get them out of the cages. What a terrible Valentine’s Day.

“Beloved, let’s get you home. We can stay at the farm tonight. You need sleep,” Damian said worried. You looked at him distracted.

“They’re just kids.”

“Come on. Let’s go. Kon is going to stay there too. Just for the night,” Damian said helping you up. Kon flew you both back to the farm.

“I’m going back to help. You okay, kid,” Kon asked as Damian inspected the house.

“I’ll be alright. Just help those kids,” you said.

“Yeah, of course,” he said ruffling your head. You rolled your eyes. “But seriously, the way you screamed I thought you were being murdered.”

You stiffened. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Kon knew when to quit. Something he had learned from Tim. He gave you a big hug and flew off towards Metropolis.

“Hey. I made your bed so you can sleep,” Damian said quietly. “And a change of clothes.”

You nodded and went upstairs. Damian helped pull off your shirt and put on a sweater. He looked at the marks around your wrist and red knuckles but didn’t note any more bruises or cuts. You pulled on sweatpants and climbed in small twin bed that Lois kept for guests. The pink and yellow flowery quilt felt warm and comforting on your skin. Damian lay beside you after changing and looked at you seriously.

“What is it,” you asked.

“I was so scared tonight. I have been doing this for years and I’ve never been so worried,” he said softly and you looked down and flushed. If you weren’t so freaking sensitive to Kryptonite this wouldn’t have happened. Damian gently lifted your chin and you looked at him.

“I was scared to lose you,” he said running his thumb across your cheek. “I’m going to drive you absolutely mad because I don’t want to take my eyes off of you.”

“Yeah?” You said with a little smile.

“Uh hm. But first sleep,” he said and your body certainly agreed. You curled into him and rest your head on his chest. His arms held you tightly before rubbing your back. You fell asleep to Damian staring at you. He stared at you all night, not even sleeping when Kon came in a few hours later.

———————————

“I have to know what all that was, Bruce,” you said at the Batcave the next day. “I was in there.”

He looked at you for a minute. “They were experimenting with meta DNA. All of those kids have gifts and they wanted to take you too. There were even plans to inject those kids with your blood to see if it would affect them.”

You shivered a little at the thought. Lex Luthor and his obsession with Kryptonian DNA.

“All the records were burned. Most of the warehouse too. Your brothers were.... thorough. And Clark will be home in a few days,” Bruce added.

“Really?”

“Yes. And he’s furious at Luthor. Probably will call soon. He wanted to let you sleep earlier. We’re just running programs here. Why don’t you and Damian go upstairs,” he suggested.

“Bruce Wayne,” came a stern voice behind you. You turned to see your mother, Lois Lane, looking like she was going to beat up Batman. “You put a tracker in my daughter without her permission?”

“You what?” You said.

“Actually that was Damian. Though I want to point out that it helped save her life,” Bruce added. Lois slapped him soundly across the cheek. Bruce just blinked and rubbed his cheek.

“Damian, you put a tracker in me?” You asked shocked. You’d assumed Jon had heard you or Damian’s detective work brought them to the warehouse. Not an invasive tracker in your body. “What the hell?”

“Well I can explain..”

#Damian Wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #robin x reader #Damian Wayne angst #valentine fic #batboy x reader #dc #fns

503 notes · View notes

blackandgoldandeverythingnice · 3 years

Text

among the fields of gold - c. mcavoy

Pairing: Charlie McAvoy x female!OC

Summary: A little sneak peek into the future of charlie and nellie from i’m so glad to know as they attend the 2026 Olympics

Word Count: 4,682

A/N: Just the most self-indulgent little fluff I could come up with because I love writing them.

Warnings: none! the smallest hint of adult content but that’s about it.

“This is so fucking cool – did you ever actually tell me how cool it was to be at the Olympics?” Charlie was bouncing along the streets of Milan and swinging Eleanora’s hand as they went, a couple of other Team USA players behind them as they used the off day to do the touristy things they hadn’t yet been able to do during the first round of games.

“You’ve done plenty of World’s before, it’s almost the same.”

“It absolutely is not.” He argued back, glancing down and smirking at the little scowl on her face. He ignored the groans of a couple from the guys at the fact they were about to start bickering. It wasn’t their fault; he didn’t invite the idiots to come with them.

“You’re just excited because you’re staying in the Village and there are a bunch of girls there too – you don’t get that at World’s.”

“Yeah, I’m there for the girls.�� He rolled his eyes and squeezed her hand before leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

The team was housed on their own floor in the dedicated USA building and it was like being back on a road trip in Peewees. They’d cruised through the round-robin, winning every game in their group and were heading into the elimination games. A lot of the guys had played together for years through development camps and national teams and they felt good about their chances.

They’d been wandering the streets of Milan, seeing as much of the sites as they could since all they’d seen were the inside of rinks. While Charlie had wanted to spend it just with Eleanora, some of the guys had caught him in the lobby with her on their way back from breakfast and insisted on joining them. She had pretty much become their team mascot: at every game, made a new sign for each and chatted with all the families happily. It made something in him burst in pride at the sight of her fitting so seamlessly into his life now. It hadn’t been an easy road to get there.

“Can you two not?” one of the Hughes brothers interrupted.

“Yeah, let’s stop this before it really gets rolling.” Matthew Tkachuk cut in, sweeping past Charlie with a smirk as he hit his shoulder and made his way across the square towards the Duomo. A few of the other guys sped passed them, running around the square and changing pigeons.

“And for a former Olympian, could you walk any slower?” Auston Matthews teased as he came right up close behind them.

Annoyed, Charlie shoved his teammate away just as Eleanora pinched his side. “I’m sorry, put some respect on the only gold medalist in this little crew right now. Also, I’m six months pregnant, dick head – you try carrying a bowling ball around your middle on these cobblestone ass streets.”

“Technically, a McAvoy has a gold medal – shouldn’t have changed your last name, babe.” Auston grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders but making sure to gently guide her as they walked around the various tourists and other athletes who had done the same thing they did.

“Can you get the fuck away from my wife?” Charlie groaned, checking Auston away so he could pull Eleanora into his side.

The rest of the guys walked ahead, leaving the two of them alone. Charlie smiled down at the way Eleanora was basking in the bright, cold air, her cheeks flushed and nose a little pink. There was a visible glow around her. He’d always thought it was bullshit when they said pregnant woman glowed but since the second she’d taken the test, there was a light happy aura around her. Walking with her tucked into him like she was slowed them down but Charlie liked making sure Eleanora was okay, to the point that she might kill him at some point if he asked her again how she was feeling.

“How are you – ”

“Don’t you dare ask how I feel right now, Charlie McAvoy.”

He pouted down at her. “It’s a valid question, they keep you scheduled so late for some of the media shit.”

“It’s called my job, babe.” She hip checked him gently. She’d stayed involved in the figure skating community and this year they’d invited her to provide commentary for the ladies’ singles. Turns out she was incredibly personable in front of the cameras and enjoyed talking to the young skaters. “I’m just happy none of your games conflict with the skating. I don’t think they’d love me ‘calling out sick’ only to have me show up on TV on the glass yelling at you to play better.”

“Excuse you, I have the most minutes played and highest rating.”

“Yes, baby – you’re very highly rated.” She snuggled into his side, and he laughed when she slid her hand into his back pocket and squeezed his ass.

The pair of them walked slowly around the square, laughing at the guys as they ran around. A few of Team Canada showed up along with a few of the Czech players. Since most of the teams were made up of NHLers, all the teams were friendly off-ice and trying to control them was like corralling kids at their first away tournament. A few fans stopped them as they went but most of them were interested in getting pictures with Eleanora rather than any of the guys, something the team loved to tease Charlie about. Joke was on them, he couldn’t be more proud to watch the way people adored her.

“How’s my boy doing?” he changed tactics as a group of young girls walked away after spending five minutes taking pictures with her and asking what it was like to win gold.

“I think he wants pizza and pasta.”

“Pizza and pasta? Not or?”

“You’re really gonna ask how I feel then judge your pregnant wife for wanting all the food?” the glare she shot him was enough to have him throwing his hands up in defense.

He leaned down to kiss her but she dodged him. “No way, bud – find me food then you can kiss me.”

“In my defense, I asked what my son wants to eat – you’re incidental to me checking up on him.”

“Do you want to die? Is that your plan? You want Team USA hockey to lose the gold because their captain was murdered by his pregnant wife?”

“Why’s Goldie threatening your life?” Jake popped up behind them, scaring the shit out of Charlie while Eleanora had seen him coming.

“He’s judging how much I want to eat.”

“Well, come on my fellow sewer rat – if Chuckie won’t love you right, I will.”

Jake offered her his hand and she took it, tossing a teasing smile behind her as the two of them started towards one of the side streets to find a suitable restaurant leaving Charlie to scurry after them.

--- ---

Eleanora chewed distractedly on her cuticle, staring at the clean sheet of ice waiting for the guys to step on for warmups. As she had for every single game, she was standing on the glass at the corner where her and his family had sat for the entirety of the tournament. The jersey of Charlie’s she had on barely fit over her belly and the maternity leggings made her feel like a sausage. Bouncing on the balls of her feet anxiously, she was as nervous as she’d been for her own gold medal skate.

“How’re you feeling?” a voice interrupted her nervous thoughts and she glanced over to see her father-in-law sliding into the seat next to her. After the first win, they’d sat in the same order they’d been in for every other game that followed. While Charlie wasn’t overly superstitious, Eleanora was and there’d been half a dozen little rituals she’d come up with for this Olympics.

“Jesus, your son ask you to ask me that?” she teased back at Charlie Sr. She rubbed her belly slightly and tried not to wince at the pain in her back. “Pretty sure this asshole is sitting right on my sciatic nerve.”

“Can you not call my first grandson an asshole?” Charlie’s mom appeared on her other side, looping her arm through hers. “But seriously, you alright?”

“No pain I haven’t dealt with before but this kid is already putting me through the wringer. I have to do this for 3 more months?”

Mrs. McAvoy frowned sympathetically and rubbed her arm softly. “Sorry, Ellie but yes. It’ll be worth it though.”

Just as she spoke, the guys stepped out and Eleanora zeroed in on Charlie leading the way, pushing the pucks off the edge of the bench and onto the ice.

“I can’t believe this – my son is going to be an Olympic medalist no matter what.” His mom said, sniffling slightly as she watched them start skating.

“We want gold, Jen – right, kid?” Senior nudged her in the side.

Eleanora smiled slightly. “I just want him to do the best he can.”

“Bullshit, you’re more competitive than he is. I saw you cursing him out last game for - and I quote - ‘a bullshit lazy turnover’.” Holly added as she joined the conversation, pushing her mom out of the seat next to Eleanora so she could keep the right lineup.

They all laughed while she just shrugged. “No one plays for second place...although I do kinda like being the only gold medalist. It’s how I get him to do things for me when I think I deserve them.”

The noise in the arena started to swell as the Canadians took the ice and Eleanora felt the familiar buzz and thrill of the pressure building. She hadn’t been able to see Charlie this morning, only getting a quick FaceTime as she’d been wrapping up interviews with some of the figure skaters who were getting ready for their final performance the following day.

“How was he this morning?”

Kayla shrugged. “Quiet. He missed you.”

She frowned, cursing herself for not having been there. It was their routine for the last few years, she was always the last person to see him before he went into the locker room for a big game. It felt like a bad omen that she’d missed giving him a last kiss before the biggest game of his career.

But just then Charlie skated by them for the first time, helmet off and his hair flowing behind him. He tapped the glass as he went by but kept skating in loops. After a couple laps and drills, he returned to the corner and stopped in front of her.

She couldn’t hear him over the crowd but he was pointing at her and gesturing halfway across the rink to where there was an opening in the boards. She followed where he was pointing to see one of the arena staff standing by the entrance to the locker rooms and she got the hint, squeezing through the seats as fast she could. The belly didn’t exactly help her move quickly or the people that kept trying to stop her.

He was already waiting for her by the time she reached the space, his gloves off and resting on the side. He reached out for her and she stepped eagerly towards him. On skates he was so much taller than her that she had to stand on tip toe just to wrap her arms around his neck. She was cognizant of the eyes of those in the area on them and she was sure there were cameras zooming in too.

“I couldn’t play the biggest game of my life without getting my good luck kiss.”

The stares and camera clicks faded away as she stared up at him. Knowing how the media was obsessed with “Their Story”, this was bound to be everywhere in no time. It’s why they liked their moment to be private before a game but right now, Eleanora couldn’t quite care because all she wanted was Charlie to win.

Gently, he brushed her stomach and just as he did, the baby gave a hard kick. Charlie grinned, leaning down to press his lips firmly to hers and she smiled into the kiss. “I think someone’s telling you he wants you to win.”

“I plan on winning it for his momma, gotta impress her.” He smirked, his face still inches from hers.

“I love you, baby – so fucking much.” She pressed one final kiss to his lips. “I’m not gonna tell you just making it to the gold medal game is an achievement – even though it is. You know what you need to do. Go fucking win it.”

“I shoulda had you do the pump-up speech for the boys.” He kissed her nose quickly before pulling back and grabbing his gloves to return to warmups. “I love you, babe – see you on the ice after.”

She watched him skate away, her palm flat against her belly and she felt another strong kick. Rubbing her stomach she looked down at the USA stretched across her front, smiling softly as she whispered to herself.

“Don’t worry, little man – daddy’s gonna win it for us.”

--- ---

The second period started with the game tied at two. Charlie had an assist and had already spent almost twelve minutes on the ice. Despite most of the off-ice friendships and even teammates who were playing against each other it was getting chippy. They all clearly wanted it and weren’t holding back. Tkachuk had managed to draw three penalties while only going to the box once himself.

Eleanora felt like she was going to lose her voice the amount she’d been screaming throughout the game. It seemed like part of Team Canada’s game strategy was to go after Charlie as much as possible. They’d been hitting him hard and there’d been one particularly nasty penalty he drew when Chabot leveled him with a late hit. Charlie had been slow to get up from that one but within the first thirty seconds of the powerplay, he’d put a pass right on Auston’s tape for the tying goal.

There had always been something both exhilarating and nerve-wracking about watching Charlie play. When he was on the ice, she only watched him, not even noticing where the puck was or what action was happening unless he was involved.

It was partially how she was able to react a second before the rest of the rink when she saw Chabot coming from behind him, hitting him hard and sending Charlie headfirst into the boards. He was splayed out flat on the ice while his teammates immediately rushed to his defense, Auston and Tkachuk jumping Chabot before Auston was pulled away by Dougie Hamilton. Eleanora felt like climbing over the glass to get to him and Kayla was gripping her arm tightly.

“Get up. Get up. Get up, Junior.” His dad was begging while Eleanora just kept staring in horror.

After what felt like hours but was probably only a minute, he slowly tucked his legs up under him and managed to get to a kneeling position just as the team doctor reached him. He was clearly still dazed, holding one hand on his helmet as he slowly got up. Gaudreau had come over and was kneeling next to him, offering to help him up but Charlie waved him off.

The arena applauded as he stood up, but Eleanora couldn’t feel the relief everyone else did as she watched them lead Charlie to the locker room.

“He’s okay. He got up on his own. They just have to check him out for protocol. He’s okay.” Kayla was chanting and all Eleanora wanted to do was rush to the locker room. Instead of watching the rest of the game, she stared at the locker room entrance, praying Charlie would return to the bench.

They ended the second period down by one and only during the intermission did she let herself pull her phone out to find the replay of the hit. They all huddled around together watching intently, only slightly reassured that Charlie had gotten up on his own and made his way quickly down the tunnel without support. It felt like time was moving in slow motion as the ice was cleaned. Finally, the lights dimmed again and the players started back out on the ice.

It felt like a weight was lifted when she saw Charlie hop out last, doing quick laps to warm back up as he shook his legs out. As he went by them, he tapped the glass and Eleanora felt like she was going to cry just from the quick wink he gave her.

“Thank god.” His mom sighed a breath and Eleanora felt lightheaded as she rubbed her stomach aimlessly. The baby had been active all game, bouncing around and kicking more than usual. It’s like he could sense what was happening around them.

The third period wasn’t any less stressful, Team Canada was clearly content to play defense while Team USA threw everything at them but couldn’t seem to find the back of the net. But then in the last 27 seconds of the game, Charlie caught a pass from Quinn Hughes and buried it in the top corner of the net to tie the game. The roar of the arena felt deafening as they all jumped up and down, screaming happily while the players mobbed their captain. The crowd clearly expected overtime, neither team wanting to give one up in the remaining seconds of the game.

But then Conor McDavid of all people misplayed the puck in the neutral zone and it landed on Jack Eichel’s stick who shot down the ice on a breakaway with only 7 seconds to go, shifting to his backhand as he slid the puck between the goalie’s legs.

If it was possible, the roof would’ve blown off the top of the arena. Team USA hadn’t won since the 1980 Miracle on Ice game and the place was shaking with excitement. USA gear and equipment was strewn across the ice like confetti while Team Canada stared on in disbelief, some kneeling together watching while others had already started to make their way towards the locker room.

People were hugging her tightly and screaming in her ear. Eleanora wasn’t even sure they were all people she knew. Charlie Sr. pulled her away from whoever was holding her and into a tight hug while the rest of the family crowded around jumping as they celebrated. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she tried to spot Charlie on the ice but her vision was blurry.

Sobbing into one hand, the other pressed tight against her stomach she felt another strong kick which only made her sob harder. It was better than her own win because she hadn’t had any true family to celebrate with besides her coaches who had become replacement parents to her. This was entirely different and felt like they’d all won it.

The celebrations continued on the ice as the McAvoys all made their way towards the same opening Eleanora had talked to Charlie before the game start. Other wives and families were already there, pulling each other into hugs, most of the moms crying happily while a few of the dads tried to fight their own tears except for Jim Hughes who was openly crying as he held his wife tightly to him.

Standing on the glass so she could watch, Eleanora scanned the sea of blue jerseys to try to find Charlie, biting her lip to try to stop crying. She was still contemplating scaling the glass but knew the guys deserved to celebrate with their team first.

Finally, her impatience grew and Eleanora, just popped the door open and started to make her way onto the ice. Once the dam broke, the rest of the families followed, ignoring the staff asking for them to stay off the ice until they had carpets laid down.

It was decidedly difficult to maneuver on the ice in sneakers and a pregnant belly but she moved as quickly and carefully as she could towards her target. Their eyes locked and Charlie broke away from the guys to get to her. When he reached her, he went right for her waist, dragging her up and off the ice as he twirled her around as she held tightly to him.

Neither of them spoke at first as Eleanora pressed kisses all over his face as he laughed until he could kiss her back. It was awkward to be held up so Charlie carefully set her down on the ice, one hand tucking protectively against her back so she wouldn’t slip and the other pressed gently on her belly as he leaned down for the sweetest kiss they’d ever shared.

“I told you I’d win it for you.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Not before scaring the shit out of me first.” She shot back but squeezed his waist tightly, her face landing in the sweaty material. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Teddy.”

She stared up at him, and despite the fact that he had just won the biggest game of his life, he was staring at her like they were the only two people in the world.

“This is almost as good as our wedding night.”

She gave a watery chuckle in return. “Just the wedding night not the wedding itself?”

“Eh, that was okay too.” He teased just as the rest of his family joined them. Reluctantly, she released him so he could hug his family, stepping back to give them a moment.

A few of the guys paused to hug her as they went by but mostly she just stood there watching Charlie beaming at everyone around him. The camera crews were starting to show up as the staff worked to get the carpets out and set up the podiums. Eleanora knew they wouldn’t get a private moment together for hours and she tried to melt into the background but Charlie was having none of that, snagging her hand and dragging her towards him as they started to interview him.

From her position under his arm, she stared up at him as he spoke, beaming proudly as he talked about the win and how special it was for them. She was so focused on him she didn’t realized they’d asked her a question.

“Nellie.” Charlie whispered, nudging her with a nose to the top of her head and she glanced at the reporter who was beaming at her.

“I was just asking how this compares to your own gold medal win just four years ago?” they repeated the question.

Eleanora grinned and squeezed his side tighter. “There’s no comparison.” She started, enjoying some of the frowns that followed before continuing. “What Charlie and the boys did was so beyond historic and I’m so proud to have been able to watch it happen. This team worked so hard and never gave up. I’m just thrilled I was able to share in it. Although I’m pretty pissed that I can’t win arguments anymore by saying ‘well I have a gold medal so you have to do what I say’.”

Everyone laughed in response, Charlie squeezing her side lightly.

“I’m sure you guys haven’t seen yet but the video of you two right before the game has become quite popular.” Eleanora flushed slightly as they continued. “Charlie – did you get any last minute advice?”

She pinched his side, hoping he’d lie but the smirk on his face already told her differently. “She pretty much told me that just getting to the medal game wasn’t enough and that I knew what to do. Pretty sure the exact words were ‘now go fucking win it’ and honestly, I can’t really say no to my wife so I did.”

--- ---

It was nearly three hours later by the time Eleanora and Charlie were walking into her hotel room and shutting the door so they were finally alone. They were planning on changing then meeting up with everyone to celebrate. Most of the guys’ flights weren’t for another day or two so they planned to enjoy what little remained of their Olympic break before they’d have to return to their teams for the rest of the season.

Charlie face planted onto the king-size bed. “Fuck, you’ve been sleeping on this for two weeks while I’ve been on the worst twin mattress in the world?”

Eleanora giggled, pulling her jersey off leaving on her loose t-shirt, she slipped out of her sneakers and kicked them towards the door so she could sit and join him on the bed. Despite how happy she was, she was exhausted and the pain in her back went from dull to stabbing on a dime. It took a little effort for her to climb up onto the bed and get comfy as she curled up on her side.

Charlie inched up so his nose was brushing against her swollen belly. Her hand immediately fell to his hair, running her fingers through gently and scratching his scalp. He brought his arm up so he was hugging her middle and pressed his lips against her.

“Hi, Tripp.” He whispered causing Eleanora to tug his hair gently.

“Baby, no. Even if he ends up Charlie the third, we are not calling him Tripp.”

Charlie ignored her. “Ignore mommy, I’ll make sure you get a cool nickname.”

She rolled her eyes but he kept talking. “I don’t know if you heard all that noise but now you have two parents with gold medals. We’re pretty big deals.”

“Kid was bouncing all over the place for most of the game before settling directly on my sciatic nerve so I couldn’t get comfortable.”

“Be nice to mommy, sweet boy.” He mumbled and pressed a kiss to her stomach before turning up so he could stare at her. “I think I won because of you.”

“You won because you’re an amazing hockey player and leader. You did this. Next up you can win us a Cup.” She smiled softly, stroking his hair as he crawled up so their faces were level. They lay there quietly together, staring at each other and enjoying the peace. They’d both turned their phones off, telling his family they’d see them at the restaurant that USA hockey had reserved for them. For now, they just wanted to be alone.

Carefully, Eleanora brushed Charlie’s hair off his forehead. “Your head okay? I might kill that Canadian fuck.”

Charlie laughed but cringed slightly. His head hurt more than he let on but he passed concussion protocol and had a few days off before he’d have to be back on the ice for a game.

“Are you okay? I know when you’re in pain, Nellie.”

She winced despite trying to smile as he tucked his hand under her top to lay on her bare skin, soothingly running his thumb along belly.

“Just pregnancy, or so I’m told. I need to figure out how to get him off this nerve or I’m gonna spend the flight pacing the aisles because I won’t be able to sit.”

Charlie frowned. “I hate seeing you in pain. And I’m worried you won’t want the five that I want if this one is such a pain in the ass.”

She snorted, inching forward to kiss him softly. “Let’s get through meeting this little man first then we’ll talk more, kay?”

“You’re the love of my fucking life, you know that?” he gripped her neck gently.

Smiling, she leaned forward to steal another kiss. “Lucky for you, it’s mutual. Now…I bet we could find a comfy position for you to fuck me in before we have to go to the restaurant.”

A slow smirk spread across Charlie’s face as he rolled her carefully onto her back so he could lean over her.

“I can definitely do that.”

#charlie mcavoy #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl imagines #charlie mcavoy fic #boston bruins #me writing hockey fics #hockey fic #my writing #hockey imagines #hockey blurbs #annnnd we're back #because i'm just gonna keep writing these two #because it's fun for me #I hope you like it!#let me know if you have requests or feedback

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

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The Night Shift Part 6 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: It's Saturday, your dickhead boyfriend is out of town, an old friend is in town, and it's time to get drunk!

Warnings: Drinking, mention of drug use, crippling self doubt

W/C: 4.3k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 7

Somehow, the week went exceptionally well. You bugged Frankie each day for the photo he promised you, and each time he grinned and told you that good things came to those who waited. On Wednesday you received a call from the vet telling you the kitten was going to be fine, and she would be put up for adoption when she was old enough. You were initially crushed that the kitten wasn’t going to be yours, but told yourself it was good she was bound to go to a good to a family. You couldn’t give the kind of life a cat deserved.

But most of all, you were almost unreasonably excited for the weekend. You bounced with excitement every time you thought about it - hell, even things with Kurt seemed to be going better. He had planned a hunting trip up north with a few of his friends, and would be gone from Thursday til Monday. He had brought you a bunch of flowers when he ‘broke the news’, not your favourite kind but it was the thought that counted. An entire four days to yourself was more than enough incentive for you to almost force him out the door on Thursday afternoon. With a kiss and a packed lunch and a promise to call, he was gone and the apartment was blessedly empty.

Even better, your best friend Sara was in town.

Fifteen minutes after you watched Kurt’s car pull out of the apartments parking lot, watching the window carefully to make sure he didn’t come back, you called her.

“Can we do something on Saturday? Get drunk, do bad things, anything?” You said by way of greeting.

“Oh hell fucking yes, I’ve been waiting for you to be fun again!” Sara said. You knew that was a not so subtle jab at how much you had changed since Kurt entered your life. You ignored it, like you usually did.

“Saturday sound good to you? I work Friday night and I can’t take it off.” More like you didn’t want to take it off.

“Saturday sounds fantastic. There’s a big fight night happening, and I wanna watch some hot sweaty guys pummel each other.” Sara said. “We can get drunk at the same time. Also I can get some molly if you want.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, not entirely opposed to the idea of spending the night high as shit. Especially if Kurt wasn’t going to be there to yell at you for it.

“Let me know, sooner rather than later so I can sort it out with my guy,” Sara said. “Anyway babe, I’ve gotta jet, I’ve only got five minutes left on my break and I haven’t eaten yet, love ya!”

“Love you too,” you said, meaning it with your whole heart. Out of all the friends you once had, Sara was the only one who had stuck around after you started dating Kurt. At first, you had choked it up to jealousy, convincing yourself all your other friends were envious of your perfect relationship with a perfect guy. Now looking back, you could see what really happened: you had ditched them. Completely and utterly. Kurt had taken up all of your time, convincing you to stay in when you had plans to go out, telling you that the girls you would have trusted your life with only barely put up with you and it was just so obvious to anyone with an outsider's perspective that they didn’t really like you. You were grateful for Sara, more than words could say.

~*~

Saturday came quickly, and before you knew it, Sara was slamming her fist on your door, a bag stuffed with alcohol slung over her shoulder.

“Bitch!” she screamed in greeting when you finally opened the door, still wrapped in your towel from your shower. She was already dressed, in a tight gold 70s style jumpsuit that made her dark brown skin look like it was glowing from the inside out.

“How do you manage to look so good all the time?” You said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Witchcraft,” Sara said, pulling a bottle of prosecco out of her bag and popping it open. “And like, this whole thing took me all day. Why aren’t you ready yet?”

“I’ve been sleeping all day,” you said, plucking the bottle out of Sara’s hand and taking a swig. It was cold and crisp and filled your partly empty stomach. You continued to take small sips as you got ready, occasionally asking Sara for her girly wisdom on what to wear. She picked out your outfit as you applied makeup. It felt almost foreign, using something other than a mascara and brow pencil. The use of colour and shimmers almost felt like breaking some unwritten rule you had created for yourself since dating Kurt.

“What happened to all your fun clothes?” Sara whined, going through your wardrobe. You shrugged, carefully applying bronzer. Honestly, you weren’t sure. Sometimes things just went missing - you didn’t really question it anymore.

“I’m a miracle worker.” Sara declared after almost fifteen minutes of searching. You looked up at her, then at the small bundle of clothing in her arms. She grinned and flung the pile at you. You held up a black pleather skirt that you hadn’t worn in almost a year, and a black body suit that dipped low in the chest.

“Christ,” you muttered.

“What’s wrong with it,” Sara sounded exasperated, like she had been expecting this from you.

“It’s just-” you hesitated. “I’m not going out to get dick, you know? What’s wrong with a pair of jeans?”

Sara rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong with a pair of jeans? I’ll tell you what: everything. You don’t have to have dick as the aim of the night to look cute. You can look cute for yourself. You know just as well as I do that skirt makes your legs and ass look amazing, especially when paired with the shoes I’ve brought for you. Plus, if someone out tonight decides you look cute enough to buy you drinks, then even better! Because free drinks! You don’t have to fuck them as a thank you, you can just turn around and walk away. So, get dressed and stop complaining.”

You considered Sara’s words for a moment. She was right. After you changed, you admired yourself in the mirror. Your ass really did look amazing, and the strappy black heels that Sara had loaned you accentuated your calves magnificently. Sara stood next to you, arm linked through yours, almost a foot taller in her platforms and with her afro teased to the high heavens.

“God, we’re sexy,” she murmured, taking another swig out of the bottle. “You’re absolutely wasted on Kurt.”

You didn’t bother with your usual retorts to that kind of comment. She’s wrong, you’re lucky to have someone to love you like that at all, no one else would want to if they got to know you, you told yourself. It’s what he had told you over and over again, the words searing themselves inside your brain to repeat each time you began to truly doubt with him.

You finished off the prosecco while you waited for the Uber to arrive, enjoying the warm buzz it left you with. Sara whipped out her phone and began to take photos of the two of you. At first, you shied away from the camera, the words Kurt had said once in a throwaway comment, surely not designed to hurt but did anyway, rang in your ears. You don’t look very good in photos, why do you take so many? After that, you would spend hours staring at old photos of yourself, the flaws that were invisible now glaringly obvious.

Tonight though . . . Tonight you felt pretty. You posed for the camera, following Sara’s instructions as best you could. You took photos of each other throughout the entire ride to the venue where the fight night was taking place.

It looked a little shabby on the outside, overgrown hedges snaked up the walls, covering the windows. A smoking area was off to the side, crowded with people. The inside was even more crowded, with bodies pushing up against the horseshoe shaped bar and surrounding the ring. Two women were in the ring, both bloodied and swinging.

“God there is just something so arousing about hot people consensually beating each other up,” Sara said, unable to tear her eyes away from the ring.

“Babe, you’re drooling,” you joked, stepping in line for the bar.

“I can’t help it, I have an overactive salivary gland,” Sara sighed, tearing her eyes away. “At least my dentist says so.” You grinned at her and ordered three vodka sodas each. It was a tradition with the two of you that you would always order three drinks at a time. Less back and forth, you had reasoned. Although, usually as the night progressed, three drinks were downed in the same amount of time it took to drink one, so it really cancelled itself out in the end.

As tradition warranted, you and Sara cheersed and swallowed your first drink in one breath.

Several more fights occurred, the divisions eventually changing from women’s to men’s. Neither you nor Sara paid much attention to the first few fights: “amateur hour” Sara had said to you “I’m waiting for the good stuff.”

The good stuff, it turned out, started almost an hour and 5 drinks after you arrived.

“Next fight, King V Miller!” The announcer shouted into the microphone to the cheer of the crowd. Sara’s head shot up as if she could sense the sudden change, and she grabbed your hand, tugging you closer to the ring.

“Oh, my god look at him,” Sara said, gesturing to the ring. You knew instantly which one she was talking about. He was tall, with shaggy blonde hair and lean muscle corded over his body.

“He’s pretty spry,” you said, and instantly cringed. Spry? Really?

“I wanna fuck him tonight,” Sara said. Then her voice took on a determined edge. “I am going to fuck him tonight.” Manifestation, Sara called it. If you told the universe what you wanted, the universe would deliver.

Apparently.

“I am going to get more drinks,” you told her. She nodded, not tearing her eyes away from the fighter. You went to the considerably less crowded bar- it seemed like everyone was now watching the fights- and leant against its sticky surface.

You shouted your order over the noise of the crowd, and scanned the bar as you waited. Most faces were familiar in the way that you knew when you had seen someone before, but you didn’t know when or where. That was, until you landed on one dazzlingly familiar face, standing almost right next to you.

“Frankie?”

~*~

Frankie startled at the sound of his name. He looked around, expecting to see one of the boys or maybe an old work friend from the mechanics. The last person he expected was you. But there you stood, looking so good that he was momentarily lost for words.

“Frankie!” You said again, with a huge grin on your face this time.

“Hey!” He grinned back, “what’s a girl like you doing in a dump like this?” His tone held a flirty edge, one he wouldn’t dare have used if he hadn’t already had several bourbon and colas.

“Oh you know, I plan on accosting the winner tonight of all their prize money and taking off into the night, never to be heard from again,” you accepted three drinks from the bartender as you spoke. “What about you?”

“My friend Benny is fighting tonight. He’s actually up right now, the blonde one.”

Your jaw dropped. “No way! My friend wants to fuck your friend.” You pointed your chin towards a tall black woman, dressed like she had wandered out of Studio 54. “Is he single? Can we play wingpeople?”

“He is, we can.” Frankie nodded confidently. Maybe it was the alcohol controlling his brain, but any excuse to spend time with you seemed like a good excuse. “How should we do this?”

“Does your friend Billy-”

“Benny.”

“Benny stick around after the fights?”

“Yeah, he gets free drinks,” Frankie said. You nodded approvingly, taking a sip of one of your own drinks. Frankie watched amazed as you somehow held the two others in one hand, your fingers curling around the hard plastic cups.

“How do you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Hold your stuff like that,” he gestured to your fingers. You looked down, confused.

“Whatta’ya mean?”

“With your fingers.”

“Oh! Um, I dunno, I just do.” You shrugged and placed the now empty up on a random table, and started on the next drink. It occurred to Frankie that you were well on your way to being very, very drunk.

The crowd cheered loudly as Benny knocked out the other guy with a bloody grin. Frankie whistled his support and Benny caught his eye, saluting tiredly. Santi also caught his attention, and even across the room Frankie could see the wicked grin form on his face. Frankie looked away quickly, not willing to give the bastard any ideas.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Frankie asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

“Some stupid place doing some stupid hunting,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Fuck him anyway he never lets me do anything fun.”

“What do you mean ‘lets you’?” Frankie said, his brow furrowing.

“I mean, he’s a controlling dickhead!” You said, then slapped a hand over your mouth. “Don’t tell him I just said that! Please!”

“I won’t, I promise,” Frankie said.

“Just forget I said anything,” your voice had taken on an almost desperate edge.

“It’s forgotten,” Frankie lied. He didn’t know how, but he was going to bring it up later. The idea of your boyfriend ‘not letting’ you do something had taken root in his brain, and somehow it made him furious. He took a deep breath, counting slowly to calm himself down.

“Who’s that guy who keeps making faces at you?” You asked, gesturing across the bar. Frankie sighed.

“Santi.” Frankie rolled his eyes at his old friend and waved him over. His curly hair friend bounded over, flashing you with a brilliant white smile.

“Well, hello there,” he said, winking at you. “Santiago Garcia, but you can call me whatever you like.”

You smiled sheepishly and gave him your name, “I work with Frankie.” Santiago’s grin widened at this piece of information, and Frankie groaned internally.

“You’re the girl Frankie told me about.”

“Chatting shit, I’m sure,” you laughed, but Frankie didn’t miss the questioning glance you sent his way when you spoke.

“Santiago was the one who took that photo I told you about,” Frankie said quickly, not wanting you to get the wrong idea. You nodded and leant over towards Santi.

“He keeps promising to show me but he’s yet to deliver,” you said, winking at Frankie. His stomach jumped, breath caught in his throat. He knew you were joking but he couldn’t help but feel like he had disappointed you somehow.

“That’s my fault,” Santi said, “I keep meaning to get him a copy but since he’s sleeping all day I haven’t been able to.” You nodded and turned to Frankie.

“I should go find my Sara before I lose her for the night,” you said, looking at Frankie. “Come find me - I mean, us later? With your Benny?”

“Yeah, of course,” Frankie said, watching as you disappeared into the crowd. The urge to grab you and kiss you grew with every second, but he restrained himself. He wasn’t that kind of guy, and no amount of drinks would make him think it would be a good idea to do that to someone. Let alone you.

~*~

Frankie’s head was cloudy with alcohol, he couldn’t stop thinking about how good your ass looked in that tiny skirt, how he wanted to plant his face directly in your chest.

“Fucking hell, get a grip,” Santiago said, shaking his friend by the shoulder. They were back in the locker rooms, Benny was buzzing with his win. He and Will were going their post match ritual of smacking each other on the back and releasing loud “woo”’s.

“I’m fine,” Frankie insisted, and Santi scoffed.

“You’re full of shit,” he said. “Ironhead, tell this idiot he’s full of shit!”

“You’re full of shit, Fish!” Will said automatically. “But what’s he full of shit for?”

“He’s in denial about pining for the chick he works with,” Santi said. “Look at the poor bastard, it’s written on his face.”

“Fish, you’ve never been good at keeping a straight face when it comes to emotional crap,” Benny said. “All other stuff, you’re great. Just not when it comes to matters of the heart. Or the dick.”

“You should’ve seen the way he was looking at her,” Santi laughed. “And the way she was looking at him, making bedroom eyes at each other.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, ignoring how the last comment made his heart leap. “You’re all stupid, she’s just a work friend saying hi. Nothing more.”

“Full of shit!” Benny cackles. “Look at his blush!” Frankie groaned. They were right about him at least. He had it bad for you.

But that didn’t matter. You had a boyfriend, and even if everything Frankie found out about the guy made him resent him a little more, he couldn’t change that one important fact. And he wasn’t stupid enough to ruin the beginings of his friendship with you over a stupid fucking crush. He just wasn’t.

Benny showered, singing You Belong With Me and switching out the pronouns as he did. The man was an unashamed Swiftie, claiming that she had a song for every situation. Frankie pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep swig of his beer. Will sat beside him and nudged him gently.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked.

Frankie frowned. “What? I’m not gonna ‘do’ anything. She has a boyfriend, end of story.”

“Sorry to hear that man,” Will said, sounding sincere. He knew Frankie wasn’t the type of guy to wreck someone else's relationship for purely selfish reasons. “You’re a good man.”

Frankie wished he wasn’t.

Benny changed into his regular clothes quickly, and said something about needing a drink. The four of them left the locker room and made their way to the bar, and Frankie couldn’t help but look around for you. When he couldn’t see you, he bit back the slight disappointment that sank in his stomach. Benny brought a round for the group and they found an empty table to sit at. The employees of the bar were dismantling the ring to make room for a dance floor. Loud, thumping music started playing and within moments the floor was packed with bodies.

“Frankie! And Frankie’s friends!” Frankie looked around at the sound of your voice, which was high with excitement. You bounded over, clutching the hand of the friend you had pointed out earlier. You introduced yourself and your friend Sara to the group and pulled up a chair for you and Sara each. Frankie didn’t miss how you placed Sara’s chair next to Benny, or how Benny was staring at Sara with his mouth slightly open. He also noticed with a slight pang how you sat yourself between Will and Santi, directly across from him.

What he didn’t was how much you kept looking at him. Lucky for him, Santi and Will noticed plenty.

You and Sara spent a few hours with the group, until a not so inconspicuous Benny and Sara both disappeared, Sara throwing a wink towards you as she left. Will left not long after, saying that his bed was calling his name. Santi stayed a little longer, flirting with you much to Frankie’s annoyance. To his credit, he didn’t show you the catfish photo. Frankie wanted to show you that one himself, when you were both sober.

“I better head out,” Santi said as it rolled past three in the morning. “I’ve gotta babysit Lee tomorrow, and you know how hyper he is.” He turned to you and kissed your hand. “It was the deepest pleasure meeting you, don’t be a stranger. Frankie.” Santi raised an eyebrow and shot him a meaningful look.

“Good night,” he said a little forcefully, shoving Santi towards the door, mainly to get him to stop flirting with you. He knew the flirting was just incentive to spur him into some kind of action with you, but it wasn’t going to work.

“Your friends are nice,” you said, struggling to connect the straw of your drink with your mouth.

“They’re assholes most of the time. They’re just nice to beautiful women.” Frankie regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Shit! Now she thinks I think she’s beautiful. She is! But she doesn’t need to know I think that! Frankie finished off his drink to avoid looking at you.

“I’m attractive til they get to know me,” you said with a snort.

“What makes you think that?” Frankie asked, confused as to how that could work.

“I don’t think,” you said, “I know. It’s a fact. One that cannot be argued.”

Frankie was about to argue with you about this when you turned away, stumbling as you did. She’s super fucking drunk, Frankie thought, grabbing your arms to steady you. Your skin was so much softer than he anticipated, sending a jolt through him. He let go quickly, mouth going dry as you beamed up at him.

“You saved me!” You declared, then finished your drink quickly, emitting a small burp. “To thank you, I must give you a token of my gratitude. I know! A drink! Three drinks for the kind sir! And three for me!”

“Jesus, how much have you had?” Frankie asked, laughing.

“Only a little bit,” you shrugged and thought for a moment. “Maybe like, a dozen vodka sodas and some shots and also half a bottle of prosecco. And also a teeny tiny bit of molly, but that was hours ago, so it’s basically gone.”

“Maybe I should walk you home,” Frankie suggested gently, amazed that you were still upright let alone getting served. You shrugged.

“I can just get an Uber or something, it’s fine.”

“No, no, don’t waste your money, let me walk you.”

You looked up at him with slightly unfocused eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

The cold air outside hit the both of you like a wall. Stars scattered across a moonless sky, leaving Frankie wonderstruck for a moment, until he noticed the goosebumps on your arms. Without a second thought, Frankie took off his jacket and placed it gently around your shoulders. You looked up at him, a surprised look on your face.

“Frankie, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so, I have this friend, right? And she’s been dating this guy for years now. They live together, no kids or anything. But she told me a little while ago that she’s been feeling . . . trapped.”

“Trapped?”

“Yeah. Like, she doesn’t think she loves her boyfriend anymore. At least, not in a way that she should. And he’s so mean to her, too. He doesn’t hit her or anything, but he’s also not super nice to her, and-and she doesn’t always know what she did to deserve it. She doesn’t know what to do.”

“Can she leave?” Frankie suspected you weren't talking about a friend, but he didn’t press beyond what you were willing to tell him.

“Not easily, I don’t think. She doesn’t have enough money for her own place and- and she’s afraid.” Your face flushed.

“What’s she afraid of?”

“Being alone. Unloved. She doesn’t have any family or anything and her boyfriend is the closest she has to that. So um, if she was your friend, what would you say to her?”

Frankie was thoughtful for several moments. He didn’t want to fuck this up. If his suspicions were correct, you were talking about yourself. “Well, first of all I would tell her that her boyfriend is a massive dick, even if he doesn’t hit her, boyfriends shouldn’t make their girlfriends feel like shit. I would tell her to talk to her friends, ask for their help. I would also tell her that being alone doesn’t have to mean lonely, and it certainly doesn’t mean that she’s going to be unloved.”

You nodded thoughtfully at this. Frankie took this as a good sign. “She can’t know for sure what her life will be like, but my guess is that it will be better if she chooses to leave this asshole.”

The rest of the walk was spent in silence. Frankie knew you were thinking about what he said. He too, was lost in thought. Trying to figure out a plan to help you in any way he could. All too soon, you arrived at your apartment building.

“Thanks for this,” you said, taking off the jacket and handing it to him. Frankie nodded.

“You needed it more than me,” he said simply. “I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow?”

You nodded, and then as if you weren’t entirely sure if what you were about to do was a good idea, you wrapped your arms around him. Frankie stiffened for a moment before hugging you back, holding you to him tightly, breathing in your scent of perfume, sweat, and alcohol. You were warm and soft and everything in him was screaming don’t let go.

“Thank you,” you whispered in his ear, and he knew you weren’t talking about the jacket.

Taglist: Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209

#the night shift #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier

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hansolmates · 3 years

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cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment w/c; 3.3k a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse and @woozisnoots for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right.

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right.

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right.

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?”

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get.

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right.

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left.

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out.

Billiam has Super-liked you!

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam.

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick.

Billiam is typing…

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment.

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.”

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!”

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!”

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly.

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!”

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep.

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.”

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?”

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen.

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky.

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder.

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask.

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer.

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off.

He’s getting an incoming call. From you.

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard.

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up.

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this.

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up.

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?”

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it.

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.”

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.”

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity.

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?”

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?”

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.”

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit.

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?”

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.”

“Good night.”

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence.

The waning starts today.

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time?

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep?

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe.

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night.

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal.

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies.

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.”

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy.

“Who is it?”

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.”

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard.

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder.

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?”

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship.

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.”

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you.

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.”

Liar. He’s a liar.

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.”

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.”

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?”

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—”

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s.

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—”

“Uji?”

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm.

“Uh, hey?”

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement.

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!”

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away.

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?”

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together.

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down.

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?”

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him.

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.”

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look.

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?”

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch.

“It’s—”

“Complicated.”

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly.

“There’s things you’re not telling me.”

“Right.”

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add.

“Yes.”

“Then what are some things you can tell me?”

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.”

“Paperwork?”

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life?

“Okay,” you finally say.

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens.

“Really.”

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease.

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.”

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle.

#jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #caratwritersclub #kwritersworldnet #svtcreations #jihoon fic #woozi fic #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios

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the-broken-truth · 3 years

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Broken-Style Remix: The Red Hood & Shadow Hunter (Jason Todd & Bellatrix Todd)

Broken: So, I happened to read one of @anxiousnerdwritings's works about Jason Todd and Damian's Twin sister being a team and going against Bruce and the Bat-Family who want Damian's twin sister with them. This idea came to mind and I thought you would like it. Let the words weave and enjoy!

@anxiousnerdwritings's version: LINK

Quick Note: Bellatrix's Name is Shadow Hunter - Her Armor is like Jason's but it is more wolf-like (My personal touch) and has a bit more tech to it.

Blue eyes forced through the magnifying glasses on the face of the Eldest Wayne Heir, yet the one who cast the name aside for one that better understood her and a family that would better understand her than the Dark Knight or his gaggle of infants ever could. She sat in the darkroom - well, not entirely dark; the sparks from the tools in her hand made occasional lights that illuminated the room every now and then, plus there was the desk lamp on the workbench - shining light on the hand & forearm model and the gadget in the making that Bellatrix was working on. It was an attachment to her suit - Claws that gave a lightning discharge. She could use it to knock someone out or remove them completely with enough voltage but she won't do that - she won't live on the Al Ghul Blood, she won't be like Talia Al Ghul or the boy she once called brother.

Speaking of brothers.

"Another all-nighter?" A familiar voice called out, causing Bellatrix to turn off the tools, placed them down, and turn in her seat while lifting the goggles off her face to look at the man in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Yeah, I wanna make sure the claws are ready for our next patrol." Bellatrix explained as she pulled the goggles off her head and placed them on the table before getting up and walking over to Jason, who gave her the coffee cup once she was in front of him. "Thanks." She said as she took a sip.

"No problem, what are brothers for?" Jason asked with a smirk.

"Other than entering their little sister's workroom without knocking?" Bellatrix asked with a raised eyebrow.

"As your brother, I have a right to invade your privacy for the greater good." Jason said with a smirk.

"And to be nosy." Bellatrix added as she walked past him.

"And to be..." He stopped when he realized what he was gonna say, "Hey! I'm not nosy!" He yelled as he followed behind her to the kitchen where breakfast was waiting.

[Later That Night]

Shadow Huntress secured her clawed boots shut before standing to look at the modified claws before sliding them on and latching them closed. She then positioned her right hand as if she was going to strike with her claws and smiled as the light blue electric current waves ran flowed from the bottom of her forearm to the tip of her claws; the tried with her other arm and everything was perfect. She grabbed her sword in one hand and her mask in the other before heading out to see what Hood was doing.

"Anything?" Huntress asked.

"They're still moving - I think they might be hiding to the abandoned warehouse on the edge of town; you know, the one near the waterfront." Red Hood said.

"I think that's where they are heading. Look." Huntress hits some keys on the supercomputer and the cameras in that area showed the factory. "See those boats? They're new, no one has been in that district and it's the only place to do a deal uninterrupted because the cops don't patrol that area anymore." Huntress explained.

"Then, we have our place. Let's move out." Red Hood said as he placed on his helmet and Huntress did the same - both masks locked into place and the two of them were out of there.

[Gotham Rooftops]

Red Hood soared through the open spaces of the backstreets of Gothan while the Shadow Huntress ran across the roofs with the speed and prowess of a wolf on the hunt. She leaped for a high roof and used her claws to climb to the top before running and jumping to the next one while Red Hood attached his rope to another point and began to swing.

The two of them landed on the roof at the same time - a vantage point that showed the trucks driving into the warehouse and the men that stood out to keep watch; not seeing the two hunters crouching on the roof, waiting and watching.

"What do we got?" Red Hood asked. Huntress placed her fingers on the control pad of her mask's visor to activate heat-vision mode - seeing the heat signatures in the building.

"There's about 25 of them - not counting the ones that are waiting outside." Huntress explained.

"What do you think we should do about it?" Red asked.

"We take out the guys outside, then we find the generator and cut the power; under the cover of darkness, we take them out - one by one." Huntress explained.

"What if they see us or hear the noise?" Red asked.

"Then we beat the hell out of them." Huntress said as the two of them rose to their feet and jumped down.

Everything was going good until Jason decided the throw someone through the window, everyone was high alert - it was ass-kicking time.

Red Hood and Shadow Huntress were knocking thugs down left and right, showing the combos that brother and sister made together. Huntress saw one of the thugs pointing his gun at Red Hood and jumped in the way, taking the bullet in the side but she still stood. She cracked her hand in the claw formation and the lightning came to life, causing her to pounce on the thugs, knocking them out through electrical waves while Red just beat the hell out of them.

When the last thug fell, Huntress grunted as she held the bleeding hole in her side, causing Red to run to her.

"Huntress, you alright?" He asked.

"I'll be fine. Let's get out of here and we can get it patched up." Huntress said as she rose to her feet and the 2 of them jumped through the window. They scaled the wall of the roof to stop and breathe for a moment while Jason removed the bullet that got stuck and clean the wound before wrapping it. They were waiting when Huntress's Robotic Wolf Ears shot up at the sound of footsteps - 4 pairs of them, she groaned.

"They're here." Huntress groaned and just when she said that 4 Figures landed on the roof in front of them.

The Dark Knight - Batman, a.k.a Bruce Wayne; Bellatrix's Father.

The Latest Robin - Damian Wayne; Bellatrix's Womb Mate.

Nightwing - Dick Grayson.

Batgirl - Barbara Gordon; the Police Commissioner's Daughter.

"What the hell do you 4 want?" Red Hood said as he rose to his feet.

"We received reports about gunfire in this region, we came to investigate." Batman said to Jason, but his eyes remained on Bellatrix, who just glared at him.

"There was a Firearms Deal going on and we put a stop to it before it could have even begun." Huntress said as she rose to her feet and stood beside Red Hood; Nightwing looked over the edge and whistled.

"They put a stop to it alright - everyone is laid out." He said.

"Laid out? You killed them?" Batgirl asked.

"We're not above killing but we try not to, per Huntress's request." Red Hood said as he gestured at his sister.

"You don't kill but you partner yourself with a killer? How backward you are, Bellatrix." Damian said.

"It is no business of yours, Wayne." Huntress growled.

"You're my sister, so it is my business, and you're a Wayne too; as well as an Al Ghul." Damian countered but Bellatrix scoffed.

"I've never been an Al Ghul, that's why you and your mother cast me aside; the only one who saw any worth in me in that family was my grandfather. Just like you wiped your hands of me back then, I wiped my hands of you - you're nothing to me but a stranger I happen to share my blood with." Huntress said.

"Bellatrix, that's enough." Bruce said.

"You have no say over me, Bat-Boy; I don't have to listen to you." She said.

"I am your father, you need to listen to me." Bruce said.

"I may have your blood but I damn sure don't have to listen to a damn thing you have to say because I don't live with you, nor do I work with you." Huntress said.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Bellatrix, you've been hanging around Jason for too long, it's making you reckless and dangerous. I think it's time you came to live with me, with us, with your family. There is a room waiting for you at Wayne Manor and we can talk about patrols and missions once you get settled in but you need to be with us now; Todd is a bad influence on you." Bruce said.

"You're joking." She said.

"No, Father is right - you've been living with this brute for too long. You're a Wayne and an Al Ghul, it's time you started acting like one." Damian said.

"Let me tell you something: I stopped being an Al Ghul when I left that hell you called home, and I never accepted to be a Wayne. Last time I checked, my last name is Todd and I want nothing to do with you...and of you." She glared at all of them. "Let's go, Bro. I'm done with this." Huntress began to walk away with Jason at her side.

Jason was her brother.

Jason was her family.

Bellatrix was a Todd and there was nothing anyone could do it change that.

#jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #barbara gordon

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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An Unexpected Friendship, But A Friendship Nonetheless

A Jason Todd and Harley Quinn One-Shot (Non-Reader Insert)

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: So I wrote this for @aurailia or @nitebirdie because she drew that wonderful Jason picture for me which you can find right here! I hope you like this, Jess! Love you! -Thorne

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Jason expected a lot of things.

1. Getting yelled at by Bruce for shooting serial murderers and rapists? Check.

2. Getting yelled at by Damian for calling him short? Check.

3. Getting yelled at by Tim for spray painting a billboard of him with penises? Check.

4. Getting yelled at by Dick for picking on his younger brothers? Check.

So really, it was getting yelled at by his family that he expected the most, but all things considered about his life, his expectations weren’t pretty high. He knew he was going to get hurt on patrol, knew was going to spend the rest of his life dealing with the chronic pain and learning how to manage it.

But the one thing Jason never expected, was to end up being friends with Harley Quinn.

And honest to God, the whole friendship only started because the psychiatrist they both went to accidentally scheduled them at the same time. A screw up. A monumental screw up. But it did lead to a revolutionary session where Jason and Harley spent most of their time badgering each other about their habits while the woman merely watched on and scribbled furiously at her notepad.

When they both left, they were in such a heated argument about which way would be better to deal with the Joker. Jason suggested a bullet in the head and Harley suggested cutting off his arms and legs. An excellent suggestion, he had to admit, but nothing would satisfy him more than killing the pasty bastard, and she knew that too.

Surprisingly, when Harley got to her bus stop, she grabbed the front collar of his shirt to keep him in place while she typed her number in his phone. Of course, Jason wasn’t sure what to be more concerned about: the fact that she’d lifted his phone without him knowing, or that she was putting her number in it and telling him to call her when he needed someone to talk to.

He’d responded that he didn’t need another shrink in his head.

She’d given him a pitied look and said it wasn’t for that, but for a friend.

And Jason wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but three weeks after, he was dialing her number at two A.M. just to hear someone’s voice over the deafening silence in his apartment.

They talked for hours about anything and everything. Cars, weapons, games, favorite childhood memories, everything they could think of. And by the time they’d finally talked until their tongues were numb, the sun had started peeking above the buildings in the distance.

He apologized for keeping her all night.

Harley laughed and asked to hang out on patrol come Friday night then hung up.

Jason hadn’t even told her who he was, but low and behold she was doing cartwheels on the roof of the building he was looking out on that night. And it should’ve annoyed him but hell, he’d grown up with Dick—gymnastics was something he was used to being around.

Halfway through their stakeout, she was perched on the side of the ledge, staring at the side of his head, and it shouldn’t’ve unnerved him like it did, but there was something about her bright blue eyes drilling into his brain that made his skin crawl—and not in the good way.

Will you stop boring holes in me, Quinn? He’d grunted. Pay attention.

Why? She’d retorted. Aren’t you tired of doing this? Don’t you wanna go do something fun?

Stopping drug dealers is good for Gotham.

I’m not talking about good for Gotham, Jason. I’m talking about for you.

Harley hauled him up and tugged him along, him barely resisting because good God she was relentless and headstrong when she put her mind to something. So, he let her. And she dragged him to the Bat-Burger down the block and shoved a roll of money towards the cashier, ordering one of everything on the menu.

And Jason found it really odd when he was balancing two trays in his hands while Harley carried the milkshakes over to the booth in the corner where they huddled in and started eating.

She held up a packet in between her fingers. Want some Jokerized seasoning?

He blinked at her and gently took it, sprinkling the red, white, and green flakes over his fries. And he wasn’t offended when she reached over and took one, popping it in her mouth.

It’s terrible to say it, but God I love this shit. She laughed and Jason’s jaw dropped.

I know! He agreed with a grin. I can’t help it! It’s so good!

Her eyes had narrowed at that. You should smile more, Jason. You look normal when you do.

Normal? He repeated.

You look happy. And that’s what you should strive for. She finalized and took the Robin Nuggets from his tray, grinning when he let out a noise of complaint.

When they could finally move after consuming so much food, she tugged him along to the department store that had closed hours before and while Jason wasn’t one to ever care about breaking and entering, he did have a problem with property that wasn’t a center for criminal activity.

Don’t be a baby. She griped and slipped in though one of the vents and Jason merely stared at the opening before he heard her yell to him. Get a move on! We have stuff to do!

Begrudgingly, he squeezed himself into the way too small vent and shimmied after her.

And Harley Quinn must’ve been planning this for a while because when his feet finally hit the floor, he watched as she started disabling security cameras and alarms in the entire building before spinning around and grinning at him.

Mall’s ours. Let’s get it. And she was off.

Bruce was not going to be happy about this but watching her swing that electrified bat at the glass windows, watching them shatter into millions of shards stirred up something devious in him and Harley was cackling when he broke a window with an armored elbow and yanked out the mannequin, tugging the black leather jacket off before shrugging it on.

He posed with his shoulders squared and strong and she clapped her hands. Looks good! Wanna go hit one of the jewelry stores and find some silver earrings to go with it?

Jason nodded and somehow Harley ended up piggybacking on him, giggling profusely when he started belting out Queen at the top of his lungs; she even joined when they got to the operatics.

And somehow, he let her convince him to go and help her raid the major makeup store in the mall. Harley managed to fill three backpacks full of lipsticks, foundations, eye-shadows, and a whole lotta other shit that Jason had no idea what they were for.

How much money do you think all that is? He inquired and she shrugged.

Probably a grand? Maybe two if I’m being honest. This place is a money-sucking-makeup-hog and I’ll be damned if I’m paying a hundred bucks for one set of lipstick and eyeliner.

She turned to him. Anywhere you wanna go? There’s a map out there if you wanna go look.

Jason nodded and walked out of the store while she was busy filling whatever belt pocket wasn’t empty.

After a few minutes, he heard, Found anywhere?

He pointed silently at one of the stores on the brightened map and she squinted, looking it over.

You wanna go there?

Wouldn’t’ve suggested it if I didn’t.

She shrugged and piggybacked him again. Lead the way, Jason.

He hated that the elevators had been out, and while he hadn’t broken a sweat carrying Harley up three flights of immovable stairs, his knees and his back were killing him when they finally got to the store.

He started wandering inside but stopped when she tossed him a duffel bag.

Fill it up with everything you want.

Jason tried to smile but could only manage a grimace as he stepped in and started going up and down the aisles. He wasn’t too picky with his choosing. Books that looked like they’d help manage his pain he shoved in the duffel bag. An electric pulsing gel pad went in too followed by a vibrating roller he could stretch his muscles on.

He was flipping through a book geared towards mindful chronic pain management when he felt her slide next to him.

Finding everything alright?

Mostly…this one is all about conditioning the mind to work with the pain.

Sounds useful. Meditation and mindfulness have been known to work. It’s really all about placebo-ing your mind into it. She looked at him. Jason, do you ever think about going to a physical therapist?

He scoffed. I already go see a shrink. Why would I go see another doctor?

Because your mind is one thing, and your body is another. Her hand was cool when she placed it on his arm. Jason, if you’re in pain, there are people who can help you.

He really wanted to be snarky but all he could do was glare at her. And what about you? Do you go see a doctor for all the things he did to you too?

Harley gazed at him for a long time before answering him firmly. I will if you do. Or… she started, then trailed off and picked up a few books on physical therapy. You can come to the apartment that Ivy and I live in and we can do it together.

And Jason blinked in shock because he’d never met a person who would agree to do something for themselves if he did something for himself, an agreement for dual help.

You’d really do that for me? For you too?

Harley smiled, big and pearly white, red lipstick a bit smeared in the corner from their meal earlier.

We’re both screwed up cause of what he did, Jason. But here’s where we’re different from everyone else.She linked her arm with his, leaned close and murmured. We’re not going to stew in it while healing is in our futures.

You know we’ll never be one hundred percent fixed, right?

It’s not about fixing, Jason. It’s about healing. Healing doesn’t mean you’re fixed. Memories, pain, it’ll always be there and no amount of management for pain or therapy is going to fix that.

She stared up at him. But it will remind you that you’re still you. Even if there’s a few broken pieces here and there. And no one can take that from you. Not even him.

Jason’s lungs were too tight to form words and his eyes stung horribly but he managed to swallow the lump enough to choke out his reply. You’re alright, Harley.

Smiling, she pressed her cheek into his bicep. Call me Harleen, Jason.

Not Harley?

No, not Harley. I only let the ones I care about call me Harleen.

Does this mean we’re friends then?

Oh, this absolutely means we’re friends now. Best friends, in fact. She tugged at his arm. And I think there’s a Wayne Enterprises outlet somewhere in here and I think we should leave Brucie boy a message.

Jason laughed and wiped his eyes, hurrying after her. Can we spray paint dicks everywhere?

Only if I can spray paint boobs.

You’ve got yourself a deal, Harleen.

Jason expected a lot in his life. To be yelled at by his family for being a pain-in-the-ass son and brother, to be injured on the job, to see a therapist every Tuesday and Thursday, to call his family every night to tell them he loved them.

But the one thing he never expected, was to find one of the greatest friends he’d ever had in a woman he had once been on opposite sides with.

He also didn’t expect Batman to come through the window of the outlet in the middle of their spray painting but that’s another story for another time.

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mochegato · 3 years

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Hope on Board

Chapter 19 – Let the Rain Fall Down

Chapter 1 Chapter 18

“What do you think? Looks good right?” Dick passed a critical eye over the scene in front of him. “Right,” he confirmed without waiting for a response. Dick had gotten Marinette’s favorite flowers and had Alfred cook some of her favorite foods, because he wanted it to be special, not take out, and Lord knows, if he tried to cook it would be a disaster. He’d brought out all the fluffiest blankets and pillows for them to snuggle under after dinner.

“Mrow?” Kismet looked up at him questioningly.

Dick picked her up to scratch behind her ears. “I know right? Do you think she’ll like it?” Kismet purred and head-butted his chin. “It has to be perfect. She deserves perfect. She’s been working so hard lately, she deserves a break.” He let out a deep breath, checking everything for at least the tenth time. Tim said she had left about twenty minutes ago so she should be home any minute.

He looked at the flowers again. Should he put one between his teeth? That’s romantic isn’t it? They do that in movies. He couldn’t think of any at that particular moment, but he was positive he had seen it. Okay, so which one should he choose if he was going to choose one? He started heading to the flowers and stopped midstride. The door handle was jiggling. He stood straight up, then decided leaning against the back of the couch would be sexier.

He put his hand out to catch himself and leaned, keeping his eyes focused on the door, causing him to miss the back of the couch and stumble, almost face planting into the couch. He recovered quickly and decided to spare a glance to the position of the couch before leaning against it this time. He plastered a sexy grin on his face pretending like he hadn’t just almost fell while trying to look cool.

Marinette entered the apartment without looking up. She shook her rain coat a bit out in the hallway to get rid of some rain before she hung it up. Kismet ran up to greet her, having started moving when the doorknob jiggled, but as soon as she got close to Marinette and the scattering of rain drops, she tried to stop, only sliding a little bit from her momentum. She quickly scooted backward with a scrunched up face, horribly offended by the water.

Marinette let out a light airy laugh at the expression. Dick chuckled too, catching Marinette’s attention. She looked up, finally noticing the scene he had set. Her eyes lit up, flitting from each piece Dick had set up. She grinned at Dick and made her way over to hug him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his chest so she could give him a lovesick smile. “Hey Bluebird. What’s going on?”

Dick wove his arms around her as well and gave her his best innocent expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Uh huh. So you’ll be fine with me going out with friends tonight? In fact, I’m actually running late.” She started to pull away from him.

He grunted playfully and pulled her back to his arms. “Oh no, it looks like you’re trapped. Must be a problem with gravity today. Guess you’ll have to cancel.”

Marinette giggled. “Oh no. What will we do?”

“Guess we’ll have to stay in,” Dick shrugged. “What a coincidence we have a full dinner and extremely comfy blankets available.”

Marinette hummed at him. “It’s almost like someone planned it.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Dick nodded thoughtfully. “Almost. We must just be really lucky.”

Marinette shook her head with a smile. “You’re ridiculous. What is all this?”

“I wanted to spoil you tonight. I thought you deserved it,” he said sweetly.

Marinette quirked her head at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “I do? What did I do?”

“Hmm. If you really need a reason, we can go with you grew four tiny lungs today. But in reality, I just thought everything about you was so amazing, you deserved to be pampered,” He answered quietly.

Marinette blushed and buried her head in his chest. “Dick…”

“Or,” he interrupted before she could say something deprecatory about herself. He licked his suddenly dry lips slowly preparing to say what this whole night was about. Dick brushed her bangs out of her eyes and gently rubbed his thumb on her cheek. His heart was thundering as he prepared to say the words he had realized himself a few days ago. He gazed into her eyes, his complete affection for her pouring out. “Or, just because… I love you.”

Marinette’s eyes widened in surprise and her breath hitched. He said he loved her. He loved her! An effervescent smile spread across her face. He loved her. “Dick, I…”

“Mother fu…” Dick yelled out as his phone chimed in a cosmically epic demonstration of bad timing. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket. “Somebody better be dying…” He paused listening to the voice on the opposite side of the line. “Are you sure?” An excited smile started to appear. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” He hung up and tucked the phone in his pocket. This was exactly what they needed. This could be the key. This could lead to stopping the Court of Owls latest plan and once their big plot was dismantled, he could finally be confident Marinette and the babies would be safe, well as safe as anyone could be in Gotham, but significantly safer anyway.

He grabbed Marinette by her arms and gave her a quick, excited kiss. “This is it! This could be exactly what we needed!” He was bouncing on his toes from excitement. He could not wait for this all to be over and he could finally, finally focus entirely on Marinette, Lucy, and Robert. “I should be back in one, maybe two days.” He kissed her cheek and just barely remembered to grab an umbrella as he ran out the door.

<><><><><>

Patrol was miserable. It always was when it rained. She did not get paid enough for this. She didn’t get paid at all so really this was her own fault. She should know better. She sighed as she swung from building to building, trying to find respite under awnings and ledges. Completely ineffectual things. Why did she even bother? It wasn’t going to be any warmer or less miserable under there at this point. She was soaked and this was stupid. She was going back to the Cave. She just wanted to swing by Dick and Marinette’s apartment quickly before she went back. She was sure Marinette was okay but with Dick leaving suddenly, she just wanted to check on her.

Stephanie settled on the roof and prepared to swing by the windows to check it out when she caught sight of someone standing outside the building. Sucker, she chuckled to herself. At least she wasn’t the only stupid one out tonight. She watched as a car pulled up to the sidewalk and a familiar blonde jumped out to greet the person. The figure almost collapsed in his arms. Fuck! That must be Marinette. What was going on?

Stephanie swung down to the alleyway a few feet away from Marinette and Adrien. She slid a camera around the corner to see what was going on, the sensitive microphone picking up on their conversation for her.

“What happened? I thought things were going well,” Adrien asked into her hair.

Marinette shook her head and continued to cry for a few more minutes. “He… he said I love you.”

Adrien gave her a strange look. “That’s good isn’t it? He loves you. You love him. Celebration time. Practice making more babies.”

Marinette whimpered and fell further into his arms. “But then he ran away. He said it and before I could even react, he ran away. He got a call and got so excited. Like that was the most amazing thing that happened to him tonight. Seconds after saying he loved me for the first time. And then he just ran away like it was nothing… at least nothing important.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes, her cheeks immediately getting wetted again by the rain. “I just… I can’t tell. I can never tell where I am with him.”

Adrien sighed and rubbed her back. “Maybe it was something big?”

“Bigger than me anyway,” she answered miserably. “He didn’t even wait for me to respond.”

“You need to talk to him about it,” Adrien said softly

“I have! He promised he would focus on us. He promised he would make us a priority, that he wouldn’t just cut out anymore. I mean, I understand having to leave. I do. I understand he has to work. It sucks but it’s work and we have it better than a lot of people, but… does he have to act so excited to leave?” She asked desperately.

“Are you sure you aren’t clinging to something that isn’t right because of the twins?” Adrien asked carefully.

“No! I mean they’re a driving force, but I love him. He’s so sweet and thoughtful and funny. He gets so excited about the littlest things and wants to share them with me. He’s so supportive. He thinks about me and considers what I want.” Marinette protested. He was. He was all those things. Adrien just didn’t understand.

“Does he though?” he kept his tone non-confrontational. He needed her to consider his words, and not just get defensive.

“Yes!” She paused. “No… I don’t know. I just… I don’t know. It’s like… when we’re together, it’s amazing. It’s magical. We connect so well. But then he leaves and even when he’s home, if he’s working on work, it’s all he sees. I don’t… I think sometimes maybe I’m the only one feeling like that, but it looks like he is too. Tonight he put so much effort into making the apartment look so romantic. I don’t know. It’s wrong, but I don’t know how or why and I’m trying to fix it, but I don’t know what the problem is so I don’t know how to fix it. And he won’t talk to me about it.”

“Oh, Bugaboo.” He hugged her tighter. “You can’t fix everything. There’s no Miraculous Cure for relationships. If he isn’t willing to make you and the twins a priority, there is nothing you can do to change that. You just need to decide if that is something you are willing to live with. Is it something you’re willing to let your children live with.” He waited a few minutes to let his words set in.

Tonight had been as surprising as expected. He had been waiting for it to happen. Dick had been blowing Marinette off for weeks. But he had been hoping he had been wrong. And as much as he wanted to go punch some sense into Dick and keep Marinette and the twins far, far away from him, it had to be Marinette’s decision. “Come on, let’s go back to my place. We can get pizza and watch bad movies. A night or two away from the situation might make things clearer.” Marinette nodded and let him guide her into his car.

Stephanie cursed and considered what to do with the information. She knew why Dick had left. She understood his excitement, but Marinette didn’t. And the dumbass had decided he would not tell his extremely stressed, hormonal girlfriend about it, especially while there was the possibility of her going into early labor if she had too much stress. Fucking Hell. She did not get paid enough for this shit.

Okay, so if the dumbass wasn’t going to continue to be a dumbass the rest of them were going to have to pull up the slack. She pushed her com to activate it. “Black Bat, Oracle, Hood, we have some talking to do back at the Cave. Oracle, can you call Red Robin?” She wouldn’t tell them everything, she didn’t want Dick dead, but she could certainly get a better support network started.

<><><><><>

He sped through the rain-slicked city streets, weaving between cars and trucks. He just wanted to get home and it was a home now. It wasn’t an escape from family, it was his family. It felt warm and welcoming, relaxing and inviting. All because of Marinette. Moving in together was one of the best decisions he had ever made. They may have moved extremely quickly, but it had worked out beautifully. He got to fall asleep to Marinette’s even breathing and wake up to her beautiful, bright eyes.

He couldn’t wait to finally see and hold Marinette again. His arms felt too light without her in them. He parked haphazardly in the closest spot he thought he could find and barely remembered to take his keys out before running toward their apartment.

He had been gone longer than he expected, by about a day and a half, and his whole body felt like there was an underlying electricity pulsing through his veins to finish where they left off. They finally told each other they loved each other! They loved each other and lived together and were about to have a family together and he was closing in on the Court of Owls plan. His latest trip was exactly what they needed. It had broken everything open. Everything in his life was coming together better than he ever thought it could, far better than he deserved.

He fumbled with the keys to get the door open as quickly as possible. His fingers weren’t working correctly anymore and for a reason completely unrelated to the massive bruise that was forming on his shoulder and back. His excited smile faltered when he entered the quiet, dark apartment. “Marinette?” It was Saturday. She would normally be home, but the apartment was empty. None of the normal warmth and laughter, no lingering scent from cookies. She wasn’t there. And without her there, their home felt like nothing more than a cold room, one he didn’t want to be in anymore.

He looked over to the calendar on the refrigerator. She couldn’t have a doctor’s appointment on Saturday… Damn it! Baby and Infant CPR classes. They’d signed up for them a while ago. He already knew how to give CPR to babies and infants, but it was for Marinette and something for their babies, so they wanted to do it together. He kicked the cabinets. Yet another missed event. Spectacular. He checked the time and grabbed the car keys. If he pushed it, he could make it there as she was leaving the class and take her out for lunch. He gave Kismet a scratch and ran out the door again.

Chapter 20

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123 @lady-bee-fechin @thewitchwhowaited

#maribat #Dickinette February #dickinette #platonic jasonette #platonic adrienette #Hope on Board #Knocked Up AU #prompt - rain

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the-alice-of-hearts · 3 years

Text

Kids Again Ch 3

<previous< first >Next>

Ch 3: ‘Cause sugar, no, she don't got time for that

Jason loved being Robin, but only a little more than he hated it.

The freedom, the ability to help people, having a brother to look up to and bond with...

But that all came hand in hand with the pressure to be good enough, knowing that no matter how many people he helped there were still children dying on these streets, training day in and out to try to prove to Bruce that he could live up to Dick’s legacy.

So he kept fighting

Kept running

Kept trying

Kept running out of time

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason trained and fought, and he ran. Always running, always half a step ahead of the bad guys, but two steps behind Dick. He couldn’t measure up. Never with the Boy Wonder.

So he got reckless. Went headfirst into situations, stopped trying to think 12 steps ahead. A person would talk just as fast if he broke a few bones, and if he could get that information faster then maybe he could save someone.

He tried to ignore the worry in Alfred’s eyes when he came in needing stitches for the fourth time that week. Avoided Dick’s questions on how he got his information to head off an arms deal. Hid his pain from Bruce when he checked in on him during debriefs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason threw his mask in the corner. He had just finished briefing Bruce on his night. Having waited for him to finally leave the cave, he limped over to the med bay. He heard the door to the house open again, assuming it was Alfred coming down he continued to dress his wounds.

“I didn’t understand what Alfred meant when he told me to make sure you hadn’t pulled your stitches. I guess I do now.”

Jason jerked up from the table, “Shit!” he grabbed his side where he had, indeed, torn his stitches.

“Jason, what happened?” Bruce came closer picking up the stitch kit. “When did you get this?” he sat down on the stool in front of him. Pulling Jason’s hand away to see the wound.

Jason grimaced when Bruce started to snip the broken stitches. Keeping silent except for a couple of moments of major pain.

Bruce continued to clean out the wound and get ready to stitch it up again, “I’ll just keep asking, what happened? When did you get this?”

Jason kept his head down, watching Bruce’s hands while he stitched him up. The slight pull at his skin when the needle went through was welcome as he could feign being in pain to avoid talking.

“Jason, I know you gave yourself a local. I’m not stupid and you’re not that slick.” He finished the stitches and glared down at him, “Now Talk.”

Jason took a deep breath as Bruce started to put antibiotic cream on the wound and a new sterile dressing, “What’s there to say, Bruce?” Jason jumped off the table the moment Bruce was done wrapping the wound, “I ran in head first like I always do? Let my emotions get the best of me? Didn’t think anything through and almost got myself killed?” He was finally letting it all out, “What answer are you looking for? What answer would prove to you that I didn’t cause this? I took a hit because I could take it, the little girl it was meant for couldn’t.” Jason shoved past Bruce to walk up the stairs to the manor, looking back for a second he added on, “This isn’t my fault. Maybe when you send your child soldiers out you should give them better protection.”

When he got to his room he flopped into bed and screamed into the pillow. Something that he had picked up from Marinette, did actually help him to feel better. He grabbed the red notebook and started writing. Telling her about what happened, writing it out really helped. When he finished he grabbed a book from his nightstand and started to lose himself in the pages.

A knock startled him. He wasn’t sure how long it had been but he still wasn’t ready to talk to anyone.

“Jason, I know you’re not asleep. You don’t have to come out, but you do have to listen. I was wrong to put this on you.” Jason looked up with a little hope when Bruce said that, only for it to be crushed by his next words. “Letting you be Robin was too much. You weren’t ready, I see that now. I’m benching you. You need to take time to figure yourself out before coming back out there. Just, talk to me about it tomorrow okay?”

Bruce wasn’t even at the end of the hall by the time Jason had grabbed his emergency backpack. It had his extra suit in it, food for a few weeks, and all the cash he had stashed away. He knew that this would happen one day, but he was prepared. He would figure it all out for himself, maybe take Dick up on his offer to stay with him. He looked around and grabbed a novel from his shelf tucking it into the bag next to the extra pens he kept there. He made sure his notebook was in his pocket and then he opened the window. His room was on the third story, but he had made worse climbs before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick was woken up by a loud knock at his door. He rubbed his eyes and made sure none of his gear was in eyeshot before opening the door to see who was out there. “Jay-bird?”

Jason smiled as he let him into the apartment, “Good to see you, Dick. I’m not staying long, I just need you to hold onto this for me.”

Dick looked at him confused, “wait, what do you mean? Where are you going?”

Jason shrugged a little, “I’m not entirely sure. I’m looking for someone. Once I find her I’ll be back.” Jason stood by the table putting a letter into an envelope. He was in the middle of sealing the envelope when Dick grabbed his shoulder.

“What’s going on, Little Wing? You can tell me.” Dick was pleading with him, “I thought you were waiting to go find Marinette?”

“I’m not looking for her, yet. But since I don’t know when I’ll be back I need you to hold onto this for me. If she makes it to Gotham before me, give her this. Tell her I’m still coming for her.”

Before Dick could stop him Jason was out the door. He looked at the letter in his hands, he had written For my Soulmate; Marinette on the front of it. ‘I guess I’ll look after this for you Jay. Be safe.’ He picked up his phone to call Bruce. They had both been out all week looking for Jason, at least now they knew he was alive. ‘For now’ a stray thought chimed in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So maybe going on this mission alone was, indeed, a rash decision. Jason laughed at the irony of it all. Trying to prove he wasn’t reckless was what got him into this.

“Oh? Is the birdy finally seeing the humor in this?” Joker laughed in Jason’s face. He had just finished turning on a camera and now he was holding the crowbar over him again. Swinging quickly he opened a long gash across Jason’s chest.

Screaming in pain Jason could only think one thing, ‘please let me pass out, please let me pass out, she doesn’t deserve to see this, please whatever deity might be listening let me pass out!’

He didn’t pass out. He wouldn’t know it until many years later, but Joker had pumped enough adrenaline into his system to keep him awake until the blood loss would make him pass out. When he finally did it was like a relief honestly. Until the sound of voices in his head woke him up.

‘Jaybird! Please tell me you’re there! Little wing I’m trying to get there faster, but you have to wake up. There’s a bomb, you have to get up. Jay, you have to get up now! You have to go to the door.’

‘Jason, please! Please wake up. We need you, we need you to wake up. I need you!’

‘You don’t know me, but please live for us. We all need to meet you one day.’

‘Jason you have to get to the door.’

‘Jay, wake up!’

With all the yelling in his head, Jay was finally able to wake up and drag himself toward the door on the other side of the building. The timer on the bomb was running out. He reached up to grab the handle but found it was locked. He started to cry, seeing his end right in front of him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never got to love you Marinette.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bomb went off, Dick knew the second it happened. For the final moments of Jason’s life, it was like the soulbond was wide open. All four of them were connected in a way that he had never even heard of happening. When the bomb went off it was like having a piece of himself torn away from him. He collapsed to the ground in the plane, Bruce watching him fall to pieces. They had failed him. His soulmate was dead. His little brother was dead. He could feel the pain of his Soulmate, but that didn’t compare to the heart-wrenching grief that was overtaking their final puzzle piece. He could feel her soul shattered into tiny pieces.

Bruce landed by the warehouse that Dick knew Jason was in. Of all the ways to find out who one of your platonic soulmates was, this was the worst. They recovered his body, carefully loading him into the plane. Dick found his notebook and put it in a pocket next to his own. He knew that Jason hadn’t shown anyone but him what was in there, and he wasn’t going to betray his brother’s trust. Then he held him, held the body of his little brother. The boy who tried to live up to unrealistic expectations, the kid who beat him at video games and then flipped into a wall the same night. Dick vowed to one day find Jason’s Soulmate. He needed to tell her about Jason, about how brave he was, about how he helped kids and read old poetry. He wanted to tell her all the good things because he knew she already knew the bad ones. He needed to wrap her into his arms and tell her all the good parts.

None of them in the bond would ever truly heal, but it would be better to try to pick up the pieces together than apart.

He had kept Jason’s notebook on his bookshelf in his apartment, right next to the books Jason had forgotten in his apartment each time he visited. Only a few months later, Dick was getting ready to travel to Paris, to find the remaining parts of his soulbond, when he got the news. Alfred called to tell him, there was an official travel ban on Paris. No heroes, vigilante or not, allowed into the city. Diana was enforcing it, so it would be difficult if not impossible to get past her.

#maribat #jasonette #Kids again fic

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Soulmarks, Part 15

First part

Gotta take a break for exams. I’ll probably still update every once in a while, but I probably won’t be fully back until the 10th. <3

~~~

She fell to her knees, clutching her head.

“Inamovibi-Lady, I am Hawkmoth.”

She needed to shut down. Why couldn’t she? She’d definitely hit her max. Her breath came out in shallow gasps, her eyes stung with tears. Why was she still feeling? Why couldn’t she stop? God, she wanted to stop --!

“The world is a cruel place, but only to people who don’t deserve it. Tragedy only befalls the best of people, and the wicked live without consequences.”

She couldn’t give in. Paris needed her. Any damage she did while she was akumatized would remain. She needed to summon a lucky charm. Her eyes found their way to her yoyo. Should she try and make a lucky charm at risk of being akumatized with it?

No. They would need the yoyo to purify the akuma.

Hopefully she wouldn’t cause too much damage.

“I am giving you the power to finally make them pay for what they’ve done.”

She needed to say no. No one had ever managed it before, but she had to do it. It was her responsibility. She couldn’t get akumatized. She couldn’t. She couldn’t let Paris down.

“They will finally see justice, all you need to do is give me the ladybug and cat miraculi.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. She could hear Adrien running away and had to hope that Tim was with him.

She couldn’t let them down.

“All you have to do is say yes.”

Her fingers dug into her scalp.

Just.

Say.

No.

“Yes, Hawkmoth.”

He cursed as he skid across the grass, tugging at the yoyo string as he attempted to free himself. The last time he’d been tied up like this hadn’t gone well, and he wasn’t eager for a repeat.

Adrien stood next to Marinette for a second, a shocked expression on his face as she fell to the floor.

“HEY! HELP!” Yelled Tim.

He snapped out of it and ran over. He tried to untie him for a second, then seemed to decide that it was a problem for later as Marinette was engulfed in purple and black smoke. He threw Tim over his shoulder and started running.

They had only gotten a block away before she walked out. Was that even her? Sure, she was still in her Ladybug outfit, but…

Her skin was bleached so pale that it shone in the moonlight, and a wide smile made up half of her face. She swung a giant judge’s gavel. He tensed at just how much the akuma reminded him of a mix of Joker and Harley.

Adrien glanced over his shoulder and picked up speed.

And then Tim watched her swing the gavel in a large arc. It morphed into a yoyo. Her smile stretched ever wider.

Her yoyo hooked around a lamppost nearby and she practically flew to them. Her yoyo detached itself midair and she did a flip that would have made Dick proud as she landed in front of them, a microphone now in hand.

Adrien skid to a stop.

“Hello!” She said without moving her mouth. Her voice boomed through Paris’s streets and people began to poke their heads out of windows. She looked around, her black eyes glittering like beetles, and started talking again when she apparently decided there was enough of an audience: “Don’t you know missing a court date is enough to get arrested?”

“I’m not French, so no,” said Tim awkwardly as Adrien set him on his feet to start detangling himself.

“True! I’ll give you a pardon for that, then. The crimes you were originally going to be tried for, though, I’m afraid can’t be ignored.”

Adrien sighed lightly as he pulled out his baton. “I don’t want to fight you, Nette --.”

“My name is Inamovibi-Lady, thank you.” She twirled the microphone in her hand and it stretched back into her original gavel. “Anyways, your crimes were that you never brought yourself to believe me, even when the truth was right in front of you.”

“I know your defenses, so I’ll tell them to everyone for you. Cheval didn’t listen because he thought I was too good to be true and Chat didn’t want to believe ill of his family.” She gave a fake sniffle and rubbed under her eyes like she was wiping away tears. “Enough to bring a tear to my eyes. If I could cry, of course.”

“But your personal issues don’t give you a warrant to push all your problems on me. Trust me, I’m a judge. I know all about warrants.”

Tim finally managed to get himself out and the yoyo hit the floor at his feet. He could breathe properly again, thank god.

But then she stepped closer, her gavel poised for a hit, and he seemed to forget how to breathe.

“So, your sentence is to live your lives through without anyone ever believing anything you say ever again! Good luck, darlings!”

Adrien brought his baton up to keep her from hitting them, but it seemed they weren’t quite her target. She slammed her gavel on the ground at their feet. A red circle stretched around them and they were engulfed in bright red light. He brought his hands to his eyes as the light threatened to blind him, and when he’d finally managed to open them again she was gone.

Fuck.

They tore through the streets, looking around for Inamovibi-Lady, but she’d completely disappeared.

“Right, her targets are definitely Hawkmoth and Lila.”

“Says who?” Said Adrien, raising his eyebrows. “She can’t fight Hawkmoth without getting deakumatized and Lila has nothing to do with what we did.”

Tim snorted. Really? Like getting deakumatized would stop Marinette from beating up a terrorist and Lila definitely had something to do with his half of the sentence. “Even if you were right, which you’re not, we’d be stupid not to check up on them.”

Adrien rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’d be wasting our time.”

“This conversation is wasting our time,” hissed Tim, before pressing a hand to his comm. “Hey, we have a problem in France. Ladybug got akumatized.”

“Yeah, now they’re an evil judge,” said Adrien.

Dick had the audacity to laugh. “Marinette? Akumatized? An evil judge? Funny joke, guys.”

“Yeah, she’d never let that happen,” agreed Barbara.

He groaned and let his hand fall back to his side. This was definitely going to be more of a problem than he’d originally thought. No wonder Inamovibi-Lady felt comfortable leaving them to go and enact her revenge. What could they really do? There was no way they could ask for help and even talking to each other was a pain...

They detransformed and they went to Marinette’s parents’ bakery. He needed to get some bread for Kaalki so he could open up a portal. Marinette would probably agree to go through the portal, if only because Joker and Harley were practically inaccessible. The bats might not believe him now, but he had to hope that seeing Inamovibi-Lady would be enough to convince them.

They sat down in a nearby alley to wait for their kwamis to recharge. Adrien didn’t need to do that, but he’d apparently decided that they should stick together.

Their phones buzzed and they frowned at each other as they pulled them out.

Inamovibi-Lady’s face beamed at them from their screens (not that her face seemed to be able to do anything else).

“Hello, Paris! Well, it’s really just my classmates and the police. No matter! Welcome to our second hearing of the night! Our special guest is…” She did a drumroll on her legs before stepping to the side with a wide flourish.

Lila was pressed back against her wall, looking like she’d rather be absolutely anywhere else.

“I was right,” muttered Tim, sending Adrien a glare.

He only got a shrug.

Both of them considered going to save Lila. There was a pretty high chance Adrien knew where she lived, but…

Nah.

“YOU CANT DO THIS! MY MOTHER WORKS FOR THE EMBASSY!” Screamed Lila, pulling their attention back to their screens.

“Your mother isn’t here, now, is she?” She spun her yoyo at her side lazily. “Right, how about you plead your case? Would you like to defend yourself on the whole ‘lying to everyone in your class’ thing or the ‘working for Hawkmoth’ thing first?”

Lila sputtered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t want to talk, huh? Don’t you know that you get a lighter sentence when you plead guilty?”

Her yoyo wrapped around Lila’s neck. The liar gasped and clawed at her throat. Tears began rolling down her face.

“How about you talk?” Said Inamovibi-Lady. “I won’t be giving you another chance to tell your side if you don’t.”

Lila sobbed and continued trying to pull the string off of her neck.

The akuma gave her a few seconds before giving the camera an overexaggerated shrug. “Right, I tried. Every word that comes out of Lila’s mouth is a lie, anyways. You shouldn’t trust her to tell you the sky is blue without pictures... and, who knows, they’re probably photoshopped.”

“On top of that, she works for Hawkmoth. Isn’t that right?”

Lila hung her head.

“Cool! I actually wasn’t sure on the Hawkmoth thing, but it’s great that she didn’t deny it. Come get her, coppers!”

“Unless, of course, she wants to say something. Don’t really think there’s anything she can say to make this better for herself, can’t claim self-defense when your victims can’t fight back, after all.”

Inamovibi-Lady unhooked her yoyo and it morphed into a microphone. She pressed it to Lila’s mouth.

“I’m innocent! You have to believe me!” Her voice boomed around Paris.

The akuma tapped her hand to her chin as if considering it, then shook her head as she brought the microphone to her own lips. “Anyone who believes a word that comes out of your mouth is stupid, but I’ll make it so they can finally trust you! Your sentencing is that you can never lie again!”

“Wait, what?”

She turned it back into a gavel with a wave of her hand and hit the wall right beside Lila’s head and the girl screamed as she was engulfed in light.

The akuma picked up her camera and started out into the streets. “Right! Now that that’s done…” Her eyes narrowed. “I know you’re watching this, Chat and Cheval. I added you to this for a reason. How about we play a game? Hero to hero… and vigilante.”

Adrien and Tim gave each other wary glances.

“I can’t see you, but I’m assuming you said yes! I have three targets that I’m going after tonight. Well, five, but two of those are a bit harder to get to. I’m going to need a little bit of help, could you give me a hand, darlings?”

“Either way, you probably can guess who the third is. Feel free to go over to his place now if you don’t want to use your brains… but, if you want to help the other two, my first target is actually on this call, too! She and I have the same noble rank, and we used to be friends, but unfortunately we just stopped connecting like we used to.”

She winked and the screen went black.

Tim frowned, resting his head on his hand. “Marinette is nobility?”

Adrien shrugged and shook his head.

Tim nodded slightly and rested his head back against the stone. It was definitely a riddle, then, but what did she --?

Wait a minute. Tim had believed him.

That didn’t make sense. He wasn’t supposed to believe a thing Adrien said.

But he hadn’t technically ‘said’ anything.

Tim snapped his fingers and pulled out his phone, typing a few words and then pressing send.

Timberly: Hey, I kissed Nette earlier

Adrien looked down at his phone and raised his eyebrows slightly. He rolled his eyes and typed his answer.

Adrikins: Cool? Not able to say that out loud?

Tim grinned.

Timberly: I could but I found a loophole

Timberly: As long as we’re not speaking out loud people can believe us

Adrien’s eyes widened.

Timberly: Is there a way to have our phones on us when we’re in our suits

Adrikins: Yeah. We just can’t be holding them when we transform.

And then Adrien facepalmed. Tim raised his eyebrows at him and waited for his text.

Adrikins: LADY WIFI.

Timberly: Who

~~~

Next part

Me, frantically scrolling through a wikipedia article on the French Judiciary system: there has to be a pun here SOMEWHERE

This was the best I could do ;-;

I, too, am disappointed by my inability to make a good pun for Akumanette

Taglist

@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper @ladybug-182 @laurcad123 @we-want-mini-mini @roguishredaxion @just-reblogs-by-h @futursworld @magic-miraculous @nathleigh @smolplantmum @vroomtaka @emimar7 @toodaloo-kangaroo @charme-de-malchan @spicybelladonna @fusser90 @indecisive-mess-named-me @rosesgonerogue @celestialsiren @bluesimani @loysydark @trippingovermyfeet

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #adribat #maribat

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danny-chase · 3 years

Note

Big Brother instinct, Dick and either Cass, Gar, Danny Chase, Steph, Kara, Rose, or anyone else u want

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Batgirl (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Cassandra Cain, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne Characters: Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Dick grayson centric, Fire, Burns, hair styling, Ice Cream, Hurt/Comfort, Late Nights, Fluff and Angst, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Missions Gone Wrong, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain is bad at feelings, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings Series: Part 11 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

Dick talks with Cass after a mission doesn't go as planned.

Fic under cut

“Argh!” Dick snaps back to attention as Bruce’s angry grunt rattles through the cave. The few bats still in for the night stir, their wings rustling in the distance. An avalanche of papers fly off of Bruce’s desk, and his grizzled form slumps forward, hands firmly planted on the table. His shoulders sag under some unknown strain; as if he’s carrying the weight of the sky.

“Hmm.” Dick blinks back another wave of exhaustion, he’s not working on a case – but Bruce is – and company always makes working more fun. Besides, Bruce is on a time limit and Alfred can’t stop him from escaping his room. So. Here he is. He took an oath - it’s his job to help.

Dick’s eleven and Bruce’s a pillar of reassurance – a precariously stacked pile of rocks constantly on the verge of crumbling. He has no idea how to pick up the pieces. No idea how to seal the cracks. “Bruce?” He mumbles, swinging his legs off his spinny chair. Bruce doesn’t look up, his mouth drawn in a tight line. The ghost of tears well in his eyes. Not good.

Dick scoots off the chair, lightheaded for a moment. He shakes the stars out of his eyes, nodding back and forth, up and down, like Bruce does when he’s sleepy. It’s late. He has school tomorrow. Not that it matters. Bruce will let him skip if he asks the right way. He jogs in place for a few seconds, readying himself, warming up his muscles.

There’s not much he can do to help, but he can at least put on a little show. He runs forward launching into a cartwheel, picking up the papers as he goes – Bruce likes his tricks, sometimes they even make him laugh, sometimes –

Bruce snags his ankle out of the air, his quick reflexes saving Dick from crashing into the edge of a counter. He finds himself hanging, the world stuck upside down as his hands dangle inches from the floor. “Thanks.” He looks up at Bruce’s weary face.

A yawn escapes his lips, and the corners of Bruce’s mouth twitch. “I’m going to have to child-proof the cave at this rate.” He tries for humor but it falls flat, his hearts not in it all.

He stares up, sticking his tongue out. Bruce’s frown doesn’t fade. “Are you okay?” He asks. Bruce’s hands fumble, and Dick swings dangerously low to the floor before he’s recovered. Not willing to take the chance again, he curls up, grabbing Bruce’s forearms and pulls himself up through his arms, settling himself on sturdy shoulders.

Bruce drops his feet. “I’m fine. Why would ask that?” He sounds almost hurt and Dick’s too tired to figure out why.

He slides down easily, Bruce gently deposits him on the floor. “You looked sad.” A yawn leaves his mouth without permission, he stumbles slightly, and a hand clamps down on his shoulder. He reaches back up, and Bruce throws him up against his shoulder, wrapping him in a hug.

Dick yawns contently, his eyelids fluttering without his permission, as Bruce starts walking towards the stairs. “I’m sorry…” The arm around his back pulls him a bit tighter. “I’m just not enough.” A shaking hand combs through his hair and Dick squeezes back because he doesn’t know what to say.

Bruce grunts as he takes a step up the stairs. “Sleep on it?” Dick suggests, resting his eyes for just a moment.

“Mmhmm. It’s bedtime.” Dick’s half asleep by the time they reach the top. He’s not sure he hears Bruce whisper, “You’re a great kid, chum.”

It took Dick years before he really understood the feeling. And even more years before he made the connection that that was how Bruce had felt on late nights spent scouring for clues that just didn’t seem to exist, having worked for days straight on three hours of sleep, and watching Gotham send all of it up in flames setting you back months on an investigation.

He’s learned there’s nights it’s impossible to save everyone – hell, he’s seen Clark get his ass kicked, and Clark’s damn near close to god. Dick would know – the Titans have fought their namesake. But the Titans have fought humans and lost despite half their members being godlike, and besides that most days now he’s alone. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries, how much he plans, how prepared he is; sometimes things just go to hell and a handbasket and there’s nothing he can physically do to prevent it.

Most of the time, he’s fine with that. It’s fine he has limits. Logically, he knows he can’t be expected to everything. Logically, he knows it’s a waste of time to worry about it. Logically, he knows it’s okay to take a night off, watch a nature documentary, invite a friend over, stay in and spend the night simply existing.

But it feels like he could be doing more – should be doing more. He feels that restlessness overtake him, and springs to his feet “Bruce I-”

Bruce gives him his patented bat-glare from where he’s sitting, looking up from a familiar pile of papers. Once it would have intimidated him into sitting back down. Now he just returns it with a patented one of his own. “-I think I’ll suit up and head out for the night, Tim could probably use some back up with-”

“Dick.” There’s this exasperated tone that Bruce can only ever seem to muster when saying his name. He pauses for a just a second, his eyes flickering down to Bruce’s clenched fists and tight shoulders. “Let me handle it.” It comes out as an order, but reading between the lines, it’s a plea.

Bruce would never admit it out loud, worry practically bleeds out of the man. Guilt gnaws on the inside of his chest, though, he’s not sure what it’s even from; the guilt of making Bruce worry or the guilt of being a useless sack of broken and bruised ribs while people need Nightwing’s help. Being benched sucks, but he knows enough to compromise. “Let me run the comms? Babs could use a night off.” She sleeps less than him and Bruce knows it.

The gray streaks in Bruce’s hair stand out all the more as he lets out a bone deep sigh. Dick rolls his eyes – he doesn’t get to do this right now. “You literally let me go out last night I don’t understand why-”

“Last night was an emergency. I didn’t have a choice.” His frown widens, his face etched in an eternal look of pain, mixed with disproval. “Two nights ago… you almost…” His mouth seals itself shut, unspoken words hanging in the air between them. It’s Bruce that breaks the gaze first. “Run the comms, don’t overexert yourself. It should be a quiet night…” He stands, hesitates before walking off “And get to bed early.”

Dick bites back a laugh, Bruce hasn’t talked to him like that since he was thirteen. “Alright.” He resists the urge to poke fun, and follows Bruce through the passage behind the grandfather clock.

“So Ives was talking about the Pirates of the Caribbean movie with me the other day, and we might go see it this weekend if I have the time. Gee- I can’t remember the last time I saw movie in theaters or even really hung out with him.” Tim’s endless chatter helps him stay awake in the dimly lit cave. His throbbing ribs help too, maybe he shouldn’t have tried doing push-ups. “Dad and Dana want to drop me off, but Ives has a car now, though dad’s still worried cuz of the time some wacko tried to stop us at a traffic light.”

Dick hums, a smile creeping its way up his face. “I can drop you off if it’s an issue.”

“Really?! That’d be awesome, you could stay for the movie if you wanted to, but I don’t know if you’d like it, I mean are pirates really your thing? I always figured you’d be more into Vikings or probably aliens actually, or something like-” A red light flashes on the screen, and Dick snaps to attention.

“Hold that thought.” Tim’s chatter ceases immediately as Dick furiously types on the terminal. He punches into the main line. “Batgirl how fast can you get to the corner of 16th and Murphy’s Ave, there’s a building on fire and you’re the only one anywhere near the Upper East Side.” A 911 operator calms down a hysterical woman in his left ear, Cass asking direction in the right.

He pulls up a map. “I-I can’t find a way out!” The woman shrieks. “I don’t know what happened, I was sleeping and-” she breaks off into raspy hacks.

“Go straight, turn right after three blocks down.” Dick winces, as the lady continues chocking on smoke. “C’mon Cass. Get there.” He mutters off the line. He eyes his cycle sitting idly in the bay – he’s twenty minutes out; Cass needs backup. He opens up another line. “Batman I need you to follow Batgirl, what’s your eta?”

Bruce grunts back, he hears thudding over the line. “Fifteen minutes.” The woman screams in his other ear, he yanks the earbud out as a massive bang nearly blows out his eardrum. Picking it back up, he can’t hear the woman anymore, only the roar of flames and falling debris.

“Shit.” He pulls up video from a street camera. “Shit.” The building’s collapsing in on itself. “Permission to call the league?” He clicks through to their line of communications, his finger hovering over the button.

“Here.” Cass scrambles into view, bursting through a window. Shit.

Bruce learned his limits long ago. Dick’s finally settling into his. Cass? They simply don’t register on her radar. The buildings coming down in mere minutes; she’s going to get killed.

“What’s the situation?” Bruce yells in his ear.

“Batgirl get out of there!” He screams at Cass. She’s going to die – the building’s not stable, and he’s the one that sent her there. “Make it five minutes – the building’s coming down.” He yells to Bruce. “Batgirl!” He watches a few windows blow out. A firetruck careens down the street.

“Permission granted.” Bruce huffs and Dick can’t click the button fast enough.

A couple more windows blow out, and the building seems to lean to the side. Finally he sees Cass climb back out a window, holding a couple kids in her arms as she leaps to the ground. “BATGIRL GET THEM CLEAR!” His heart pounds in his throat as she runs forwards, the building groaning behind her, crumbling to the side. Chaos erupts, chunks of flaming debris cascading from the top of the building, as the second floor merges with the first.

Dick blinks, his mouth dry. “There’s more people-” he can’t hear Cass over the ensuing cacophony as he watches the building topple to the ground. “NO!” He faintly hears her scream as the screen erupts in static.

Dick slams his fists on the desk. His chest constricts painfully. “Nightwing. Report.” Bruce’s steady voice reminds him to breathe. His chest spasms. Shit. “Nightwing!” Bruce demands as he tries to catch his breath.

“Building collapsed.” He manages to get out. “One sec.” He takes a few deep breaths, leaning back in the chair for support. “Batgirl report.” He’s greeted with silence. “Batgirl, please, if you’re there I need you to respond.”

“I…” Cass trials off. Dick sighs in relief. “I’m sorry.” The line cuts off. Well. Shit.

“Nightwing! I’m headed to the location.” Bruce squawks. Dick sighs.

“It’s going to be a long night. Search and rescue, I’ll call in backup.” Shit. So much for an early bedtime.

“Hey.” Someone shakes his shoulder. He makes a grab for their wrist and misses, his mind processing where the hell he is. He blinks a few times.

“Cass?” Her hair’s plastered to the side of her head and she’s covered in soot. Nicks, rips, and tears decorate her costume. Dick wipes his eyes as the ashy smell of smoke overwhelms his senses. Cass takes a few steps back, heading towards the locker room. “Wait.” He had something to say to her, his mind racing to catch up.

She hops up onto a counter. His mind shuffles through the events earlier in the night. “Bruce sent you back?” Cass nods glumly. The rescue efforts weren’t going well when he dozed off. The JLA sent in everyone they could spare; there’s nothing they can do anymore. Not that Bruce won’t try.

Cass’s lips are sealed. There’s a haunting expression in her eyes, her shoulders slump forward, her hands firmly plant themselves on the counter for support.

And his friends think he’s too much like Bruce.

“Hey.” He starts. She gives him a weary look, tears welling in her eyes. Well, maybe not exactly like Bruce. “Look, I’m sorry I put you in that position.” Cass shakes her head. “Sometimes things like this happen. I should have-”

“Stop.” Cass pulls her feet up on the counter, getting dust everywhere. “I should have been faster.” She swallows, refusing to let the tears spill over. “My fault.”

Dick watches as she glides off the counter, yanking off her gloves and dropping them on the floor. Burn marks dot her hands and the edges of her hair are singed. “You did everything you could.” She hesitates, before taking a step towards the showers.

“Not enough.” She mutters before storming off, leaving a trail of soot in her wake.

He stands up. “Cass.” The lock snaps shut with a click as she slips into the bathroom. Leaving Dick in an empty cave once more.

By the time he returns downstairs, Cass is already out of the shower, looking displeased. “You took my clothes.” She notes unhappily, a pale pink towel tucked tightly around her shoulders.

Dick watches water drip down from her hair, pattering on the floor. The trail leading back to the bathroom is now mixed with water and soot. Alfred’s going to be pissed. “I took your costume.” He clarifies. “And I brought you clothes.” He gestures towards the open door.

Cass scowls, planting her feet defiantly. “I’m going out.” She reaches out a hand. Dick shrugs – there’s no way she can find where he hid her filthy suit before they get a chance to wash it.

It’s all too familiar, reading the lines across her brow, watching her shoulders slump when she stills, and scanning red rimmed eyes. “What are you going to do like that?” He points out, Cass angrily storming towards him. “You’re tired, you’ll just end up being in the way.” He dodges left as a fist flies past his face. “You would have hit if I wasn’t right.” She’s faster than him on his best days.

She glares at him with pursed lips, staring before turning on her heel and storming off towards the bathroom. The door slams behind her, triggering the rustling of far away wings.

Dick sighs – he hopes he wasn’t this temperamental when he lived with Bruce. “Come up to the kitchen when you’re done, I need your help with something.” The lie rolls easily off his tongue, though he feels a twinge of guilt as Cass groans behind closed doors.

Cass’s eyes widen as she enters the room. Dick offers a smile as she edges closer to the table. He tosses a spoon, she snags it out of the air. “Dig in.” There’s a carton of chocolate ice cream – double chocolate chunk brownie sundae with hot fudge and chocolate sprinkles to be precise – and tons of candy. It’s not stuff Bruce keeps around, but Dick’s has a stash at Tim’s house reserved for movie nights. He’ll restock later.

Cass vigorously stabs the ice cream with her spoon, a smile dancing across her face as she takes a few bites. She pauses, sticking the spoon back in the cartoon, looking up with a confused expression. “Why?” She’s wearing fluffy pajama bottoms, fuzzy socks, and an old worn college sweatshirt that’s frayed at the hems. Dick can almost pretend he’s back, talking to Donna after she broke up with Roy their sophomore year of high school.

She’s watching Dick carefully. He hums casually. “You had a rough night.” This is what the Titans always did. She shrugs.

“Things happen.” She shovels a few more bites into her mouth. “I want to go out.” It’s hard for Dick to find her tough and grizzled when she’s guzzling gummi worms, kicking her feet back and forth on the stool.

“Consider this a reason to stay in.” She gives him a sideways glance. “You did as much as you can, that’s enough.” Cass looks pointedly at her ice cream, not hesitating before diving back into it.

“Spar with me?” She licks a skittle before sticking it in her mouth.

Dick snorts. “If I don’t have a heart attack, I think Bruce would.” She snaps up to attention, grabbing his wrist and quickly finding his pulse point. “I’m fine, Cass.” Her hands are freezing. He places one of his on top of hers. “If you weren’t there I wouldn’t have been.” He says quietly, catching her eye. “Thank you.” She pulls back as if burned, quickly busying herself with the candy. He waits a moment before adding, “I think those kids you saved are grateful too.”

Cass throws a bag of M&M’s at him, he’s a second too slow and it pelts him in the face. “Noted.” He grins. “Uh, also, I’m going to have to do something with your hair.”

“What.”

“Cass, hold still.” She immediately stops squirming under his hands. “Thanks.” She hums back, tucked under an old blanket that never seems to leave the back of the couch. Bruce still isn’t here, but Tim checked in after his stakeout, and headed home a half an hour ago. He snips away another lock of burnt hair, tossing it into a trash can next to him.

He rests his forearms on the back of the sofa, contemplating which section of her hair to start with next. “You find one you like yet?” He asks, peeking over her shoulder at the images of hairstyles.

“Uhh.” She scrolls a bit more. “I don’t care.” She tosses the phone up to the top of the couch.

“Mmm.” He didn’t expect much else. Donna texted him a picture earlier to copy – something easy to pull back but still stylish. He attacks the next section, carefully brushing out the tangles, starting bottom to the top. He’s oddly grateful for all those times he did Donna and Kory’s hair.

‘Practice for when Bruce finally adopts a girl.’ They used to tease. ‘You’ll have a real sister, and if his track record holds she’ll have black hair and blue eyes.’ He’s never lived the irony down. Though, Cass’s eyes are a beautiful warm brown, so Donna and Kory can take that.

“You know.” He keeps his tone light. “Most hairdressers and their clients talk.” Cass remains set in stony silence. “Though I guess most people go to a salon to get their hair cut.” He just visits Joey. “Some people say it’s like free therapy.”

“You talk a lot.” Cass notes. He pulls up doodle jump on his phone and passes it back to her. She plays a couple rounds before the phone’s placed back beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He already knows the answer, but still asks all the same.

“No.” Bruce never wanted to either. Barbara used to talk to him… before he left for the Titans and took years to look back. Though he likes to dream otherwise, he knows there’ll come a day when Tim won’t want to talk to him anymore either.

It doesn’t get any easier being shut out. “That’s alright. If you change your mind I’m here.” He grabs the shears, snipping away another dead end.

“Thanks.”

“Dick.” A hiss awakes him, light following soon after. He squints, turning away to bury his face in a cushion. “Where’s Cassandra?”

He turns, eyes snapping open as he quickly scans the sofa. The blanket hangs off the edge, Cass nowhere to be seen. One of her custom batarangs sticks out of his armchair’s armrest, a few inches from his hand. “She must have found her costume.” He notes, glancing towards the pajamas crumpled in the doorway. His eyes meet Bruce’s as he lets out a tired sigh.

His hair’s dripping, fresh from a shower, and it’s singed at the edges. Dick nods towards the sheers on the coffee table. “Tomorrow.” Bruce decides, crossing the room, picking up the blanket as he goes. Dick pushes down the footrest, slowly rising to his feet. His ribs twinge at every move, in hindsight, falling asleep hanging off the side of an armchair wasn’t his best idea. Bruce hovers closer than normal, watching carefully, worry lines set in concern. “Bed.”

Dick’s too tired to argue. “Bed.” He agrees. And though Bruce doesn’t carry him, he accompanies him up the stairs.

#bad things happen bingo #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfam #batfamily #nightwing #batgirl #my writing #sorry i've had this request for like 2 months but you know what we made it eventually 💀😅#thanks for the request anon!#i couldn't resist doing Cass but shout out to you remembering Danny Chase exists like dang iconic

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barelyalivebutnotdead · 3 years

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Birds At School Chapter 11 Weekend Investigations.

Chapters: Prologue. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

Chapter 11:

It was Sunday morning when Mister Jute had been safely delivered to his house and security features and observational cameras were installed outside. It was Damian and Tim who were assigned the job, though Damian had tagged along and followed Tim rather than partenering with him.

“You okay?” Asked Tim as they leapt off the roof of Mister Jute’s house.

“What makes you think otherwise?” Damian grumbled, avoiding looking at Tim directly.

“Your gym coach is a drug peddlar. It tends to mess with most kids your age, you know?” Tim deadpanned.

“Former gym coach.” Damian corrected, as if it made any different, “I’m getting home, try to keep up!” Damian hollered as he sped up and swung by the buildings.

“That brat--” Tim grumbled as he sped up too, but then calmed himself considering that Damian was being rather nice not cutting his lines and throwing batarangs at him.

“Robin!” Tim called out, running on the rooftops to keep up, “Robin, stop!”

But Robin did not stop.

“How does Dick put up with him?” Tim sighed in frustration seeing Damian swing about wordlessly.

After long minutes of Tim’s frustrated grumbling and Damian’s unresponsive swinging, Damian finally stopped. It seemed to be a random roof-top in the less-poverty ridden areas of Gotham.

“Robin?” Tim said, hoping for an explaination.

And Robin just jumped down the the highest window, without an explination.

Tim sighed and groaned but followed.

“What are you doing?” He whispered watching Robin open the locked window and casually strolled into the apartment. Well, as casually as a vigilante in broad day-light would.

“If you haven’t noticed, it’s morning!” Tim whisper-yelled, “We aren’t supposed to be in costume or being a vigilante! Aren’t you more particular about that than me?”

Robin walked around the house, he petted the cat sleeping on the sofa arm-rest as Tim basically lost brain-cells at the situation. It was broad daylight. They were in costume. They had entered a house following Robin, who refused any explination and was now petting a random cat.

“DUDE WHAT THE FUCK?!” Tim internally screamed, but his face expressed the simple “why.”

Robin then walked into the kitchen, where Tim finally understood the situation.

On the fridge was Damian’s paper stuck with a magnetic toy in the design of a Robin R. It was a perfect score in the English essay which he wrote on an analysis of evolution of classic literature. Tim stood in understading acceptance but also wide-eyed considering Damian didn’t particularly like English. In that moment it also made sense why Damian had asked Jason for help a few months ago. They were analysing literature.

And beside the paper was a photograph. It was a selfie of Damian and Ms Rose Khan smiling at the camera. Damian smiled polietly while Ms Rose had a hundred watt smile of euphoria plastered on her face.

amian scanned the kitched. Behind the chopping board were papers, presumably unpaid bills peeking from behind. The slab was left uncleaned judging by the dried up oil stains and the old take-out containers.

The cat’s bowl was empty and the cat meowed desperately, The cat hadn’t been fed in a while. So, Damian pulled out the cat food and filled the bowl for the cat to eat.

“Damian,” Tim said slowly, it all made sense to him now. Damian was worried that Ms Rose might be a part of that organization. “I’m so sorry.”

Damian didn’t answer, staring at the cat.

“Well,” Tim said in an attempt to de-escalate the situation, “We don’t know if she actually is a part of all this, you know? Maybe she’s just gone out? For a different job or a different place for some reason?”

“Whatever,” Damian said, truning around and marching into the hall. Everything was exactly the way it was the last time he came here. He placed recorders around the house, under her desk, under the sofa and behind the lights.

“She hasn’t been home for the weekend.” Damian said solemly, as they exited. Both of them were silent in worry at their thoughts and hearts raced with all sorts of possible scenarios; none of them pleasant.

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18 (Final Chapter)

#dc #dc comics #dc fanfiction #bruce wayne #batman #damian wayne #robin #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

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Collide

Characters: Dean Winchester x black!reader, Geralt x black!reader

Summary: When on a case, the reader bumps into a familiar face.

Warnings: None

A/N: This idea has been in my forever. I’m happy its finally out.

Between the store clerk trying to stare down your blouse and him giving you, Sam, and Dean unnecessary details of the attack here, you were gonna blow your brains out. Dean noticed your frustration and smiled at you. He loved the little pouty look you would get when you were annoyed. It was the same look you gave him when you wanted something from him.

To get away from the clerk’s stare you roamed around the gas station, still intently listening to his story.

“Then some dude who looked like he came straight from Game of Thrones came inside. I thought he was LARPing.”

“LARPing?” Dean repeated looking up from his notepad.

“Live action role playing,” you explained, your fingers dragging over the chips.

The clerk looked at you adoringly. “You know what it is?”

“Yeah,” you sauntered back up to the counter. Time to tease this little sucker. You took a cherry blowpop and unwrapped it. “I do it all the time. My favorite is the professor and the naughty schoolgirl.” You fluttered your eyelashes as you stuck the lollipop in your mouth.

Dean squeezed your hip in warning to cut it out. He didn’t need more reason to knock the kid out. You paid him no mind though. You just continue to smile at the clerk in which you had no doubt probably jizzed in his pants.

Dean slammed the countertop to get the young man’s attention. “Hey, eyes over here. What happened when Jon Snow came in?”

“Umm, he umm, went crazy.” You couldn’t hide your smile as he stumbled over his words. Serves him right for being a little creep. “He started swinging some blade around and killed the three other guys that were here. I thought I was next when we made eye contact, but he walked right pass me.”

Sam asked for the footage for the fight, but just our luck the camera was busted, it was only there for show. Now you had to be here longer listening to the clerk ramble.

“Uh, he’s as tall as you,” the clerk pointed at Dean, “But he’s ripped. More ripped than you,” he pointed at Sam while Dean murmured, he was ripped. “Oh, and his eyes, they were freaky man,”

The three of you traded looks. Maybe you were just dealing with a demon.

“What color were they? Yellow? White? Black?” Sam questioned.

“Yellow, well more like a golden color. You know kinda like Twilight vampire eyes.”

That was odd. None of you dealt with anything with those kind of eyes before. Guess this means this wasn’t gonna be as easy as you thought.

“Oh, and he had long white hair which is weird because he did not look that old at. Maybe it’s a new hipster trend.”

Your head popped up at the mention of the white hair. It couldn’t be him. He’d be dead by now.

Losing all jokiness, you grabbed the clerk by the collar and pulled out the necklace he gave you that you always wore. “Did he wear something like this?”

“Yeah, the same thing, just bigger.” You let him go and smoothed his collar in apology before walking out. You needed air asap.

Sam and Dean soon followed. Neither have seen you get rough with a witness before. “Y/N/N, you okay?” Sam rubbed your back as you tried to catch your breath.

“Yeah, I think I know who our killer is.”

“Kinda figured that out. Care to share with the class?” Dean knew just how to pull you out of that state, being a dick. You couldn’t pass up hitting him.

“Remember when those witches sent me to the past? I think the guy who helped me is the killer.”

Dean snapped his fingers trying to remember the man’s name. “What was his name. Geral- Gerald? No. Geral-”

“Geralt.” You finished for him.

Dean didn’t like how you said his name or how your eyes lightened up. The two of you weren’t a couple, but you were his.

“Wouldn’t he be dead by now?” Sam questioned.

“Time travel.” You simplified for him.

Dean shook his head. “Man, I hate time travel.”

—

The three of you ended up at an abandoned house. You used a hair tie Geralt gave you as a conduit for a tracking spell.

“Geralt, do you have an extra scrunchie?”

“A what?” He asked, looking up at you on Roach as he walked alongside you.

You forgot they didn’t know the term scrunchies. “A hair tie.”

“Why didn’t you just call it that?” He complained.

You rolled your eyes at his grumpiness. “That’s what we call them in the future.”

“Ah. No, I don’t have an extra one. Why do you ask?”

“Because mines broke and I don’t want my braids in my face in this heat.”

Geralt sighed as he undid his. “Here,” he handed you his hair tie.

When you got into town, you bought a new hair tie at the market and you tried to give Geralt’s his, but he insisted on you keeping it. Instead he took the new one.

You surprised it work since it was so flimsy, but you couldn’t use the necklace he gave it to you, because technically it wasn’t his. He had it made for you. It was for his ‘little witcher.’

You opted to lead with your sword instead of your gun. Geralt wouldn’t be shooting at y’all. Plus, the only time you could use it was when you were hunting vamps and you missed swinging this baby through the air.

Quietly, you entered the home. Geralt would be on guard and you didn’t feel like fighting him off.

The three of you split up, in search of him. You really hope that you would find him first and not Sam or Dean. He wouldn’t trust them as easily.

Your hopes were crushed when you heard Dean yell, “Son of a bitch!” Racing down the hall, you and Sam arrived at the same time only to see Dean dodging Geralt’s sword.

“I thought you said he was some sort of hunter?” Sam pointed out Geralt’s black eyes.

“He’s not!”

You screamed out the Witcher’s name, but he didn’t respond. He had to be under someone’s control.

“Don’t shoot him!” You yelled at Dean, who was letting out rounds.

“Well, tell him to stop trying to impale me!” Dean rolled to his side to dodge the sword once more.

The witcher had the hunter backed into a corner with no room to miss his strikes. Before Dean could get stabbed, you blocked Geralt’s sword with yours.

“Geralt! Stop! It’s me!” Geralt’s black eyes held no recognition. It was as if you were another monster.

You’re a total badass but fighting Geralt proved to be exhausting. He was a much better swordsman than you and it didn’t help that you learned from him.

While you were trying to stay alive, a book barely missed your head. Looking in the direction it came from, you saw Jaskier being hemmed up by Sam and Dean.

“Jaskier, did you just throw a fucking book at me!?”

“Y/N?” The bard squinted his eyes, trying to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating you. “It’s you! Thank the heavens! Geralt is in dire need of your help.”

“I can see that!” You gritted, while Geralt had you backed against the wall with your swords crossed.

“Geralt, look it’s Y/N, the woman’s name you’ve been saying in your sleep is here.” He’s been saying your name in his sleep? You were sure he be too caught up with Yennfer.

It didn’t matter though. Geralt still was on attack mode. You were talking to Jaskier, trying to figure out what was happening when Geralt stroke your sword out of your hand with the tip of his near your neck.

Jaskier was forgotten by the boys, now that you were in imminent danger, but you told them to stand down. You knew you could get through to him.

“Geralt, it’s me!” The sound of distress in your voice broke through Geralt. His eyes reverted back to normal, well, normal for him.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The one that got away. Geralt dropped his sword, shortened the distance between you two by leaning his forehead against yours while cupping your jaw gently. “Y/N,” he whispered against your lips.

His lips took you by surprise. You haven’t felt them against yours since you came back your time. This time it was different. It was more passionate. The eagerness from Geralt let you know that he was seeking familiarity and you were willing to give it.

A throat clearing broke you out the kiss. You turned to see a pissed off Dean, a smug Jaskier, and an uncomfortable Sam. Taking in that sight, you stepped away from Geralt’s embrace.

“Um, Sam, Dean, this is Geralt of Rivia.”

Despite his immediate disdain for the man, Dean introduced himself. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dean Winchester of Lawrence.”

Geralt ticked his head to the side before shaking Dean’s hand. So, this was the idiot that Y/N would groan on about. He never quite understood why the idiot didn’t want to be in a relationship with Y/N. She was smart, beautiful, and a hell of a hunter. He would’ve taken her for himself if only time didn’t separate them.

With introductions over, you got to the meat of it. Geralt explained that someone plucked him, Jaskier, Ciri, and Yennefer out of time, just to use him as a weapon. The rest were used to keep him in line, but after one too many fights with his abductors they found a way to spell him under their control.

“Then why are you with him?” You asked Jaskier.

Jaskier’s face flushed and he looked towards the ground. “They said I was annoying, so they sent me with him.”

You had to contain your laughter, but Geralt did not. Leave it up to Jaskier to annoy his kidnappers to the point they couldn’t stand being around him.

You were getting into the backseat of Baby when Geralt just stood there a little confused. “What are you doing? Get in!” You patted the empty seat and he hesitantly slid in.

“This is small,” Geralt commented as his eyes roamed the vessel. It sort of reminded him of a carriage without the horses.

“Faster than Roach. How is she?” A smile graced your face as you reminisced on the stead. She was the most beautiful horse and as protective over you as Geralt.

“She’s well. She misses you though.” Not as much as him though, Geralt thought.

Nuh huh. This was not gonna happen on his watch. Dean let the freakazoid get one free kiss because he was disoriented, but he be damned if he let him make moves on his woman. “Who the hell is Roach?” Dean asked, looking at the pair of you from his rearview mirror.

“My horse.” Geralt met Dean’s eyes in the mirror but for only a moment.

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “Really? you named your horse after an insect.”

“Dude, you literally named the impala Baby,” Sam slapped his shoulder.

Sam’s comment launched the brothers into an argument about Baby’s name origin. While they were having their silly argument, you leaned up and turned on the radio to drown them out.

Immediately, Jaskier was intrigued by the music coming out. You told him all about the advancements in music and promised him to show him some good music.

Dean caught the tail end of your conversation and asked Jaskier why not start his music lesson now.

Sam and your eyes went to each other. Both of you knew Dean was about to go through his expansive cassette tape collection. Sam put in his headphones while you leaned your head back, getting comfortable for your nap.

You didn’t feel Geralt pull you off Jaskier when your body slumped over on him. You didn’t feel Geralt wrapped his arms around your waist as he leaned your head on him. And you definitely didn’t feel Dean’s hot gaze staring at your conjoined bodies.

Tagging: @deansblackbeauty @dark-night-sky-99 @brownsugarcoffy @jinaaaannnnn @amethyst09 @titty-teetee @deanscroissant @deansbbysblog @thickemadame @arizonalovesher @harrywujj

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dudeandduchess · 4 years

Text

Seduce Me: Meeting You (Kyōjurō x F!S/O, AV Actor AU, NSFW Scenario)

Summary: Kyōjurō is one of the biggest porn actors in the industry, while (Y/n) is an established blogger who’s out to write more sexy articles for women like herself. She’s just there for research, and Kyō dismisses her at first until he sees how intense and needy she looks while watching his scene. And he’s just so enamored by her that he starts looking forward to her set visits; until one day he gives in and kisses her... Note: Y’all bbys liked the thirsty ask I did on this so here y’all go. Enjoy!!!! 😂🍉🍉🍉 Chapter: 1/4 Word Count: 2,300

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Warnings: Smut, Adult Themes, Language, Daddy Kink, Lust at First Sight

The telltale sound of skin smacking against skin reverberated within the spacious room that (Y/n) entered. With her phone clutched in her hands, and her thumbs typing at close to lightning speed, all while surveying her surroundings as best as she could.

She took note of the number of the people on the production team, including the director and set writer; merely jotting them down on her notes app as her guide made a path for her to get near to where all the action was happening.

(Y/n) had been to many exotic and exciting places in her life, but none of them had ever been at a porn set while in the middle of filming a scene. She wasn’t jaded enough to have renounced watching porn; she still watched it, just not as much as she used to— preferring to just focus on her career as a blogger, instead of trying to fulfill needs that she was sure wouldn’t even be sated.

Masturbating was fun and all, but it left an empty feeling inside her; unfulfilled, in a way, no matter how intense the climax.

There was just something about cumming due to a real-life partner— a real-life cock— that was way more satisfying than either her fingers or a dildo.

“You look so pretty around my cock, sweetheart,” A gruff and slightly winded voice echoed in the room, which was followed by the conscious movement of the camera men, as well as the sound operators.

The voice was sexy in its own right but when (Y/n) looked up from her phone to look at who the owner was, she felt her saliva pool into her mouth at the sight that was before her; as it was of the enigmatic blond that she had seen in the hallway earlier— way before filming had started, and way before she had known that he would be the one whose scenes she would be observing for that day…

As well as the next few days.

Sweat glistened off his skin in tiny— and really sexy— rivulets; even with the cameras zooming in on him, and the shutters of professional cameras clicking incessantly around him, his gaze never wavered from the woman beneath him.

His name, if she remembered correctly, was Rengoku Kyōjurō.

She had thought that her uncle would only set her up with a low-brow actor at the studio he worked at; not one of the more well-known names in the industry.

So, it was safe to say that she had to have a minute to herself in the women’s bathroom— if only to compose herself and tell her not to mess anything up while observing him.

It wasn’t that she was a fan of his, but anyone would be nervous around what was essentially a celebrity. Especially since she wanted to leave a good impression on him, if she wanted to be invited back to the studio— or just any of the other pornography circles in Tokyo.

She needed all the resources she could to run her blog; and certainly having herself in his good graces would help further her own agenda.

Her goal was extremely clear to her, to the point where it was all she could think about while writing down the outline of the article on her phone… but, right where she was, she found that she couldn’t look away from the way that his muscles moved with every thrust of his cock inside his co-star.

The girl keened in pleasure— sounding a tad too fake for (Y/n)’s liking— then pulled Kyōjurō down for a kiss. And, she had to admit, that it was the hottest kiss that she had seen in her life— both in real time, and in movies; because it was as if he was consuming his partner’s entirety and playing with it like how he played with her tongue.

And when he pulled away with a playful bite at the woman’s bottom lip, she couldn’t help the tiny gasp that escaped her lips. Immediately, however, she bit down on her bottom lip and forced herself back to typing her observations about the set— trying to drown out the slight warmth that had started to pool between her thighs.

However, the more that she typed, the more that she heard the woman’s voice ringing in the room— starting to get even more breathless with every resounding slap of skin against skin that echoed within the room. And, before she could help herself, she was already looking up to see what had caused the sudden increase in the woman’s mewls.

What she saw had more heat pooling between her thighs though, as her eyes took in the sight of the woman cradled in Kyōjurō’s lap— with his cock snug inside her pussy, moving in and out as he bounced her on his erection.

If she were to be completely honest, she would say that she had never seen such a beautiful cock— and such a beautiful man— since that moment. From what she could see (which was more than a lot), he was deliciously thick, with perfectly round and proportioned balls at the base of his dick. He was also a bit on the shorter side compared to other porn stars at around six inches— if she guessed correctly.

But what he lacked in length, he made up for in technique; as evidenced by the way that he would thrust his hips roughly inside his partner, and take a moment to move his cock within her to hit one of her spots, all while skillfully playing with her clit— pinching, strumming, and playfully tugging at it as he rocked her world.

Just the sight of the other woman enjoying herself with such a man had (Y/n) biting back a catty look of jealousy. Because, if it came down to it, she wouldn’t say no to a man like Rengoku Kyōjurō.

(Y/n) squeezed her legs together— if only to alleviate the mild discomfort she felt as she felt herself start to get wet. Her breath had gotten shallower, and her eyes shiftily averted themselves from the scene— only to gravitate back towards the blond man who was peppering his co-star’s neck with open-mouthed kisses.

His eyes had fallen shut, but he looked as if he were savoring the moment even more— which worked immensely for the scene, since it was affectionate and sweet porn that was aimed towards women.

And when Kyōjurō opened his eyes, it was to connect directly with the woman stood near the foot of the bed— well away from the cameras and all the crew trying to make the sham of a scene as romantic as possible, but still close enough to he could see the way that she bit down hard on her bottom lip, as well as the needy look that dimmed her eyes.

He wanted nothing more than to smile at her and give her a flirtatious wink, but he forced himself to get his head back in the scene— mindlessly going with the motions that he and his co-star had read and discussed beforehand.

“I’m so close, sweetheart,” He rasped against her ear, right as he nipped at her earlobe then blew gently on her ear— making her shudder in his arms as she pretended to tense around him as a sign of her oncoming ‘orgasm’.

If he could even call it that, since it was nothing more than an act as she tightened her walls around him to get him to cum already.

Kyōjurō snuck another look at the woman whose heavy stare never left him, almost faltering from his persona in the scene when she reached up to glide the pad of her middle finger against her bottom lip. Meanwhile, the hand that was holding her phone moved to rest across her chest— pushing her breasts up together and exposing a sliver of the lacy cup of her bra.

She looked so desperate and needy for his cock that he was tempted to actually ask her if she wanted a night with him; which wasn’t part of his usual habits. But he would be lying if he didn’t say that the genuinely hot and bothered look that she sported— all because of him— made him crave to touch her even once.

It shouldn’t have made him harder than he was, but it did. And it was obvious in his co-star’s gasp that she had felt his cock twitch inside her. He then closed his eyes once more, dissociating himself from reality as he focused on just cumming— only, his thoughts weren’t filled with some previous co-star giving him some good head.

Instead, it was the face of the unnamed woman whom was watching him fuck another.

In his mind, she was down on her knees— shyly gripping his cock with both hands before licking a tentative stripe up the underside of his erection. And when the vision in his head opened her mouth to take him in, she could only fit the head of his cock in her mouth; out of shyness or just plain hesitation at how thick he was, he didn’t know.

Yet that only had his cock twitching once more; signaling that he was really close to cumming.

The woman in his mind lifted her head up from sucking on the head of his cock, then shot him a pout as she said— in the softest voice that Kyōjurō could imagine, “You’re too big, Daddy.”

At that image, he immediately pulled his cock out of his co-star, screwing his eyes shut even tighter, then began jacking himself off against her pussy as he let out soft moans of pleasure; ones that were more real than he would care to admit. All that played in his head was the unknown woman biting down on her bottom lip as she looked at him much like he had caught her earlier…

Hot, extremely bothered, and desperate for his dick.

His breaths came out in ragged pants, as he shook of the orgasm that had wracked through him— forcing himself to lean up and press a kiss against his co-stars lips to close out the scene.

“And cut!” The director yelled from his perch against the dresser, swinging down the thin script in his right hand as he grinned at Kyōjurō, whom had just opened his eyes and immediately sought out the eyes of the woman whom had unknowingly helped him achieve such a notable orgasm. “Great work as always, Kyōjurō.”

He grinned back at the director in thanks, and helped his co-star climb off his lap before accepting the packet of wet wipes— as well as his heavy burgundy bathrobe— from one of the stagehands. And once he was done cleaning himself off, he looked around the room once more and found the woman right where she was— looking right at him with lust and awe clear on her face.

So, he did the one thing he could and smiled at her, right before giving her a small wave.

In response, her eyes widened considerably, and he felt that she was just about to return his smile— when she was gently tugged away by one of the stagehands that worked for the studio.

“Oh, before you leave, Kyōjurō, I have to introduce you to someone,” the Director announced from across the room, beckoning him to come over to where he was.

The young man looked over his shoulder to check on his co-star, whom had already cleaned off his cum from her stomach and crotch, and was slipping into her own robe.

“Great work today. Thank you!” He bid to the woman, and she briefly shot him a half-smile as she returned his words graciously. But, aside from polite smalltalk, there was nothing else to do there— so he made his way past the camera crew and all of the set crew that milled about the room, to get to the less-crowded space that the Director had called him to.

And, to his genuine (and happy) surprise, the woman in his fantasy was there as well.

“Ah, Kyōjurō, I’d like you to meet my niece (L/n) (Y/n). She was the one I was telling you about; the one who’s going to observe you for the next few days.”

She immediately bowed to him— polite as ever, but with a slight tinge of red coloring her cheeks adorably. He could only smile such a boyish grin at the refreshingly genuine reaction, as he returned her gesture.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rengoku-san. Please take care of me,” She stated softly, and he had to make a conscious effort to calm his heart down when her voice reached his ears— because it was more captivating than he had imagined her voice to be earlier.

“The pleasure’s all mine, (Y/n)-chan.”

And he would be damned if he didn’t admit just how intensely he felt butterflies flutter around inside his stomach at the very mention of her name. Because, for once in his life, he was genuinely— wholeheartedly— attracted to someone.

||Masterlist||

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