#a big fuck you to the dicks who tried hacking Ao3

[sadnessunderthebridge]

For anyone reading this, it is about hour 10 and still no Ao3. Not sure how much longer we'll last here, we're getting desperate, we've already lost some to Wattpad and Fanfic.net. Wish the rest of us luck.

Update: we have finally gotten access to our beloved Ao3. We shall rise once again.

Update #2: It's been also 24h with out Ao3, we managed to make minimum contact last night, but this morning, we again lost contact. Our readers are struggling, praying to your gods or deities, or whatever you believe I have a feeling we're going to be here for a while.

Update #3: After over 24 hours, we are finally officially back, and we have been rescued by our great Ao3 gods.

#ao3 #/j mostly #guys i was in the middle of some heavy smut 😭 #steddie #ao3 is down #ao3 issues #a big fuck you to the dicks who tried hacking Ao3 #go fuck yourself #what did we do to deserve this #this is why i can't have nice things #this is why im gay #ddos attack #we shall make it through young warriors #edit: I manged to get it to work last night but I feel asleep before I could finish the story #ao3 back online

[thebonerpit]

plug me in and flip some switches [fic]

plug me in and flip some switches

Starker, 4687 words, [E], Android AU, read on Ao3 here!

A Starker Android AU/kinda-sorta Detroit: Become Human AU. Stark Industries is making androids, but somehow CyberLife has cornered the market on sex-bots. Tony decides to do some hands-on research and meets Peter, an android who is experiencing some very troubling malfunctions.

This is VERY loosely based on the D:BH world but it's mostly just a regular android AU and can be read as such. The only thing you need to know is androids have circular LEDs on their temples but otherwise look completely human.

It’s research. Pure and simple. Nothing else.

Tony repeats it like a mantra in his head as he steps through the front door of the club.

For years now he’s been competing with Kamski over at CyberLife, producing better and better android models and other technological marvels. CyberLife and Stark Industries models are commonplace now around the city, life-like bots that can do anything from mow your lawn to suck your dick.

The dick-sucking is why Tony is here, really.

As much as he hates to admit it, Kamski has the sex-bot market cornered. Tony can’t figure it out. His models are gorgeous, his patented StarkSkin is more realistic than anything that hack has come up with so far but somehow sales are pathetic next to CyberLife’s numbers. So… research. Covert research.

He’s not naïve enough to think some shoddy disguise will prevent him from being spotted, but the little device in his pocket that’s currently scrambling all the camera feeds will certainly help. He hands over his identification card to the android by the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Rhodes. Enjoy your visit.”

Yeah, about that… sorry Rhodey. Tony resolves to buy him a nice steak dinner to make up for it.

The club is clean, but tacky, at least in his opinion. Blue and purple lights give the place a strange glow and all the furniture looks expensive but uncomfortable. There are various models walking around and dancing on small stages, clothed but just barely, and a handful of human “customers” admiring the goods. He already feels like he needs a shower.

“Welcome to the Eden Club,” the android at the front desk says, her voice soothing and calm. “Would you prefer to browse our models on the floor, or in our catalogue?”

Tony isn’t particularly fond of wandering around the club aimlessly, especially with other patrons there, so he points at the screen being projected in front of him.

“Wonderful. Do you have a preference for gender?”

He shakes his head and waits to see if there’s any reaction from the android. She simply taps a few keys and the catalogue appears in front of him.

“You’ll find all of our models here. When you have selected one, press the blue button underneath their picture.”

Tony almost wants to ask her to just choose for him. It would make this whole thing less... deliberate. He glances quickly behind him to ensure no one else is there before looking through the first few pictures. A Steve model, with a gentle smile and wholesome good looks. A Natasha, who looks like she could probably kill him with a flick of her wrist. He swallows thickly and files that one away to come back to. A Bucky, a huge man with beautiful long hair and sad eyes. A Wanda, young but intense. As he swipes through the next few pages, none of them really stand out to him. What’s so damn special about these bots? He considers going back to the Natasha when he stops on one of the last photographs.

A Peter model. Tony has seen a few of the others throughout the city, but this one is new. Small and lithe, twinky, but well-muscled. The model rotates on the screen and Tony nearly chokes as his eyes fixate on what can only be described as an absolutely perfect ass encased in tight black boxer-briefs. But the face… jesus. Soft-looking waves of hair frame a gentle and innocent expression, slightly chubby cheeks contrast with a sharp little nose and jawline, and big brown eyes make him look even more frighteningly human than the others.

He presses the blue button before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Excellent choice, Mr. Rhodes. Please follow me and I’ll take you to your private room.”

The android leads him down a long hallway lined with closed doors. Tony can’t hear any noises coming from within so he assumes there must be sound-proofing on all the rooms. The main club was too crowded for these to all be empty. She stops near the end of the hall and gestures to a door with a green light beside the handle.

“He’s ready for you. You have one hour from the time you open the door. Please remember that any damage done to the unit will be charged to your account. Enjoy your evening.”

She walks away without a second glance.

Tony exhales sharply.

“Alright. I guess this is happening.”

He opens the door and all his blood immediately rushes downward. Peter is a vision. He’s wearing nothing but those skimpy black boxer-briefs and is curled up like a cat in the middle of a huge, round bed. The sheets are dark red and the contrast against his pale skin is absolutely gorgeous. He perks up as soon as Tony walks in, skin flushing a pretty pink as he lets his eyes drag slowly up and down Tony’s body.

“Hello,” Peter says. No, not “Peter”. It’s an android. A bot. And Tony is here for research. RESEARCH.

“Uh. Hi there.”

His legs unfold gracefully as he slips off the edge of the bed to stand and extends a hand to Tony. He smiles, and Tony’s heart clenches.

“Come sit with me.”

“Yeah. Sure, I can do that,” Tony says, wondering where his higher brain functions have gone. He takes the android’s hand and allows himself to be led over to the bed where they both sit. Peter doesn’t relinquish his gentle grip, and his palm is soft and warm against Tony’s.

“Is this your first time?”

Tony snorts. “What? No! I’ve… oh, you mean here?”

Peter nods, still smiling.

“Then yeah I guess so. Like a virgin, huh?”

The android laughs softly but Tony is sure he’s just programmed to do that. Adding in knowledge of Madonna’s entire back catalogue seems like a waste of processing space.

“What would you like to start with, Mr. Rhodes?”

Oh. Right.

“Well, first of all you can call me Tony.”

The boy – BOT – frowns slightly. “I apologize, that wasn’t the name I was—”

“It’s ok,” Tony says with a wave of his hand, “it’s a… nickname. I just like it better than James. Or Mr. Rhodes. Ugh, sounds so stuffy, doesn’t it? A boring name for a boring guy.”

The smile returns and Tony feels a brief squeeze of his hand.

“I’m sure you’re not boring at all, Tony.”

Ok yeah hearing his name in that sweet little voice is kind of doing it for him. But this has nothing to do with how the bot is built, this is Tony’s own weird perversion, so he powers through it.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not really here for the usual sex stuff ok? And… god, I can’t believe I’m about to apologize to an android, but I’m sorry in advance for what I need to do to you.”

Peter’s expression doesn’t change at all, which is slightly alarming. Tony expects him to be at least a little concerned about his well-being.

“I’m capable of taking anything you want to give me, Tony,” Peter says with that same sweet smile. “Nothing will shock me. Last week a man put his whole arm up my—”

“Ok! Ok, fuck, jesus, that’s… do not finish that sentence. And aren’t you supposed to like, not remember anything from your last clients? Seems like a real breach of privacy there.”

The frown returns and Tony hates the way it makes him feel.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir. My processor was damaged recently but I’ve run multiple diagnostics and though I should be in perfect working condition I seem to be malfunctioning. I’ll call another unit in for you.” The LED on the side of his head starts flashing but Tony grabs his arm.

“No!”

The flashing immediately ceases.

“No. Peter. It’s… you’re fine. Don’t worry about it ok? You’re great. Fantastic, even!”

“Ok?” He sounds unsure.

And then Tony realizes he has stumbled into the most perfect situation he could possibly be in.

“But if you’re worried, let me take a look.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, sir, I can’t allow you to do that.”

Tony smiles and reaches up to brush a stray curl off Peter’s forehead.

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m a fully licensed technician. Didn’t my profile mention…? Oh, right, it probably got all mixed up during the import just like my nickname. It isn’t your fault, Peter. But I can help.”

“It’s against club regulations,” Peter says. “Some parts of my body do open for customers who are interested in playing with my wires, but not the processor.”

“Playing with your--?”

“Fucking them. Inside. My stomach, for example, has a port. Our blue blood provides a non-toxic and natural lubricant.”

Tony is flabbergasted. He really shouldn’t be, he knows that humans are disgusting and will fuck anything they possibly can, but GOD. Maybe it’s the way Peter says it. So nonchalant, like explaining how a car motor works.

“Does that… how does that feel? For you, I mean?”

Peter bites his lip.

“I like it. It feels so good. Anything you want to do to me will feel good.”

“Of course it will,” Tony says with a sigh. His pleasure receptors must be maxed out. You could probably chop off his whole arm and he’d beg for more. “Listen kid, just let me—”

As soon as his finger gets close to the panel switch behind Peter’s ear an arm shoots up, lightning-fast, and grabs Tony’s wrist tight enough to bruise.

“Please don’t. I will call security if you try that again.”

Tony tries to wrench his arm free but it’s impossible. Fuck, he sometimes forgets how unassumingly strong these things are. Peter’s tone is serious but he still doesn’t look alarmed in any way.

“Ok, it’s alright, Peter, I won’t do it again. Now will you let go of me please?”

Peter blinks and his LED cycles to yellow for a moment before he snaps his hand back and quickly as he reached out before. Tony rubs at his wrist and raises an eyebrow at the red marks left by Peter’s fingers.

“I thought your program prevented you from harming a human? You’ve got quite a grip on you.”

Peter’s lower lip wobbled.

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Please, I… I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I was just kidding around, it’s not that bad, see?” Tony waggles his wrist around in front of Peter’s face but the android isn’t pacified.

“Please let me call another model for you, sir, he’ll look just like me, I promise!”

“And what happens to you, then?”

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“If I send you back and say you’re defective, what happens to you?”

“Oh. I’ll be destroyed, sir. Like I said, my processor was already damaged and the repair must not have worked. I’m a faulty model now.”

Peter actually looks upset, but he covers it well. Not well enough for Tony not to notice, of course, and the flash of red on his LED is even more telling. Androids are able to mimic human emotion but they can’t actually feel anything. However, for a brief moment, Peter seems to actually consider his own mortality.

“And you’re ok with this?”

“Of course,” he says, quickly snapping out of whatever errant deviation must have happened. “My purpose is to serve you, to pleasure you. If I can’t fulfil my purpose anymore, I should be taken out of commission so another more functional version can take my place.”

“Jesus,” Tony mutters. This is exactly why he never spends time with any of his own android creations. Sure, he’s fond of DUM-E and U but they’re very obviously machines and if he has to poke and prod and rebuild them he doesn’t feel particularly bad about it. But this…

“You know what? Forget all of this, ok? You still seem very capable of, uh, providing pleasure so… let’s just go with that.”

Peter lights up at Tony’s words.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

He can still examine some functions without poking around in Peter’s head. And hey, maybe he’ll get a decent orgasm out of this whole awkward experience.

Peter immediately slides into Tony’s lap, long legs spread on either side of his thighs, a small bulge visible through the front of his briefs.

“Please… tell me what you like, sir.”

Tony swallows thickly. “Well, the whole ‘sir’ thing is a good start.”

Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes and smiles.

“And that sweet little innocent thing you’ve got going on? Yeah, I like that a lot too, even though it makes me feel like an old pervert.”

Peter makes a soft cooing noise and leans in to nuzzle at Tony’s neck.

“You aren’t a pervert. I bet you like taking care of people, don’t you? Making them feel good? Teaching them?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, a bit breathless.

“I want you to teach me,” he whispers directly into Tony’s ear. It makes his whole body shudder and he grips Peter’s waist hard enough that a human would probably flinch away, but Peter just moans softly.

“I guess it’s kind of pointless asking what you like, hm? You probably like everything.”

The LED flashes red again, so quickly that Tony almost misses it. Tony grasps Peter’s chin gently in his hand to bring his face back up and then holds him in place.

“What do you like, Peter?”

“I… I—”

“Be honest, sweetheart.”

Another flash of red, longer this time.

“Eat me out. Please! It feels… it feels really good,” he says, his eyes a little wild, and Tony doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life. This feels like more than just a program spitting out what it wants Tony to hear. It feels like he means it.

“Fuck, yeah, I can definitely do that. Get on your hands and knees for me sweetheart, and lose the briefs.”

Peter scrambles to comply and Tony takes the opportunity to shed all his clothing as well.

When he turns around Peter is spread out like a feast on the dark sheets. His ass, as Tony has suspected, is actually perfect. Round, plump, and practically made for Tony to bury his face in. So he does just that.

Peter gasps as Tony licks all the way from his balls to the top of his crack, one slick wet line. His skin tastes like, well, skin, although Tony still smugly maintains that his design is better. Tony spreads Peter’s cheeks with his thumbs and groans at the perfect pink hole waiting for his tongue.

“God, sweetheart, look at you. So fucking gorgeous.”

“Please,” Peter whimpers, wiggling his hips impatiently which earns him a sharp smack on one cheek.

“Be good.”

Another whimper, and Tony can feel the heat rising off Peter’s body. He reaches down in between his legs to palm at his cock, hard and dripping, and Peter jerks back against him so abruptly it nearly knocks him off the bed.

“Whoa, easy there tiger,” Tony says with a chuckle.

“S-sorry, I… it’s a lot. Your touch, it just… feels so good. So much better than anything else I’ve felt before.”

It must be a line, something a programmer thought would be attractive. ‘You’re the only one who can make me feel this way’! Yeah right. But again, Peter sounds so genuine, so completely overwhelmed… Tony shakes his head. No wonder CyberLife’s sex-bots are top of the line if this is what they’re all like.

He holds him open again and leans back down to suck and lick at that perfect hole, working all the excess saliva inside with his tongue and one thumb until Peter is practically dripping wet. He’s whining again, pushing back against Tony’s tongue like he can’t get enough.

“T-Tony, sir, I… I’m gonna… I’m gonna come…”

“Mmm you can hold off, can’t you? Not even inside you yet.”

“I can’t, I—”

Tony spears him open on his tongue and sucks, hard, and Peter squeals as he shoots synthetic fluid all over the sheets. Tony is… shocked, quite frankly, because Peter actually looks shocked too. Like he can’t believe he lost control. Can androids even lose control? His LED flickers wildly between blue, yellow, and red which is very disconcerting.

“Peter…”

“I’m sorry, it just felt so good, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t—”

“Shhhh, shhh, hey, calm down sweetheart, it’s ok. You did so well for me. Look how pretty you are, all flushed and pink, hm?”

“I… I’m pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Peter considers this for a moment and then smiles shyly over his shoulder.

“I can go again, sir. As many times as you like.”

Tony smirks, and Peter gives him another hip wiggle which makes Tony bark out a short laugh.

“God. Can I keep you?”

“Only if you’re nice to me.”

“Who wouldn’t be nice to you, hm?”

“I… oh, I’m…” Peter’s brow furrows and he looks so confused. “Quentin. Quentin? His name… he hurt me. Asked them to turn on my pain receptors. I remember… why do I remember?”

Tony feels like he just got whiplash. One minute he’s hard as a rock and now he’s gathering a shaking boy in his arms and soothing him with soft kisses on his cheeks. What the hell is going on here? Why DOES he remember? All these bots should be wiped clean after every encounter. This is starting to become a very disturbing pattern. Fuck, Tony needs to see inside his head.

Peter’s LED was bright red for about a full minute but now it’s back to cool blue, and he sits up in Tony’s lap and bites his bottom lip.

“Can we keep going? I really want you to fuck me.”

Jesus. His heart can’t take much more of this. He knows it’s an absolute dick move but he thinks if he can distract Peter long enough, he might be able to get to his shutdown switch without getting his arm broken. This is going to be the only chance he has, because if he lets Peter walk out of this room he’s never going to see him again.

“We can definitely keep going sweetheart,” he says. “Want to see your face when I fuck you. Is that ok?”

Peter nods and slides out of Tony’s lap to arrange himself on the bed, letting his legs fall open. He’s still dripping wet and Tony’s dick twitches back to life as he watches him press two slender fingers inside himself.

“Please,” he begs, and god, how could anyone say no to those beautiful doe eyes staring up at them?

Tony knows that all of these bots are self-lubricating, and that you could fuck them without any prep whatsoever, but he still takes his time as he shuffles up in between Peter’s legs and presses the head of his cock against his hole. Peter opens for him beautifully, hot and wet and warm inside as Tony pushes in slowly. It feels frighteningly real – better than real – and Tony can see why there’s a population crisis on the horizon because everyone just wants to fuck androids instead of making babies with another human being. Right now he can’t really bring himself to care.

Peter whines and wraps his legs around Tony’s waist, pulling him in until he’s fully sheathed inside him.

“O-oh, Tony, feels… feels so good, so full,” he breathes. God, his legs are even shaking. Tony leans down and presses a biting kiss against the soft skin of his neck.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he whispers, and pulls out almost all the way only to shove back inside with enough force to jostle Peter up the bed. His eyes snap open and his pretty pink mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ as Tony fucks him, hard. Listen, he’s not going to pretend like he’s ever been a slow and sensitive lover. He likes it rough and fast and Peter can take it so he gives him everything he’s got. There are fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to pull him even closer, and Tony growls as he tightens his grip on Peter’s hip with one hand and his neck with the other.

“Gonna come inside you,” he says, already edging towards his orgasm, “gonna fill this sweet little ass up. You want that, hm? Tell me, Peter.”

“Want it, want it, oh please Tony, please! You feel—feel so good, wanna come with you!”

Tony’s struggling to hold on as he slides his finger up behind Peter’s ear in the guise of stroking his cheek and hair. He grips that silky hair tightly for a moment and Peter yelps. The distraction allows him to slide the panel open with his pinky, and the switch is right there.

Peter grabs his other hand a for a moment he thinks he’s been caught. His grip is like a vise and he clearly has something in mind as he brings Tony’s hand over to… oh, fuck. The port. The port on his stomach is open. Tony doesn’t know if he did it by accident when he opened the one behind his ear, or if Peter did it, but Peter’s forcing his fingers inside and whimpering and groaning and Tony is powerless to stop him, even if he wants to. He feels warm, as warm as he is where Tony is still thrusting inside, but Tony’s fingers are brushing against wires and tubes instead of soft skin. He plucks at the edge of a wire and Peter does a full-body shudder.

“Right there,” he croaks out. His voice modulator is kind of fucked up and keeps emitting this weird hissing noise that sounds like he’s gasping for breath.

The blue “blood” inside him is as slippery as lube and Tony struggles to grab the right wire again. The squelching noise of him digging around plus the wet slap of his hips is so filthy and it’s hitting every single one of his buttons. Finally he gets it and god, the noises that Peter makes… The option to buy a recording of your session seemed ludicrous up until this exact moment because fuck, he could jerk off to these noises over and over again. And yeah, maybe Peter wasn’t lying when he said this feels good for him because he’s writhing underneath Tony like he can barely handle the sensation.

“Yeah, come on sweetheart, come on, let me hear you,” Tony gasps, and nearly whites out as he topples over the edge and empties himself inside Peter, the simulated muscles squeezing and milking out every last drop. The sensation must hit Peter moments later because he seizes up so suddenly Tony worries he might have broken him.

Peter screams, his voice modulator crackling and cutting out as he comes, shaking and emitting a worrying amount of heat, and as soon as his cock spits out the last bit of fluid, Tony presses the switch.

He immediately goes limp. His arms flop back down on the bed and legs splay out at odd angles. His eyes are still wide open, and his lips are wet with Tony’s spit.

“Fuck,” Tony whispers. “Fuck!”

He pushes himself back, sliding out of Peter’s body with a filthy wet noise. If he wasn’t going soft already the picture before him would have killed his erection immediately. It looks like… fuck, it looks like he’s dead.

“Not dead,” Tony says to himself, “not human. Not human, so not dead. Pull it together!”

He only has 15 minutes left before his time is up and someone will undoubtedly come to investigate. If he’s going to do this, he has to work fast. He quickly pulls his briefs and pants back on, leaving the shirt for the time being, and unfolds the nanotech device he had hidden in his watch. It’s a rudimentary scanner with some tools, nothing too elaborate but the best thing he could sneak in. It also has a docking port to connect to the android’s processor for scanning and downloading.

Tony climbs back on the bed and sits beside Peter’s head. His eyes still stare blankly ahead and even though he knows it’s ridiculous, Tony reaches down and gently closes his eyelids.

“Sorry kid,” he says quietly. “I promise you won’t remember any of this. I promise you won’t remember me.”

He plugs a line into Peter’s processor and connects it to his device and watches as numbers and data stream through. At first it seems pretty normal, nothing too different from how Tony’s own line of androids are programmed. Peter’s pleasure receptors were turned up, as expected, but not to the level where he should have been reacting… like he did. Tony’s traitorous cock twitches at the memory of his moans when he pushed inside that open port. His fingers are still covered in blue slick and he wipes them on his pants, already feeling disgusted with himself.

He can see where Peter’s processor has been damaged and—

“My god,” Tony says, his eyes widening as he takes in what he’s actually looking at. Most androids – his and CyberLife’s alike – were really just fancy VIs. They had built-in programming and while they could learn certain things, like their owner’s personal preferences or their chosen name, they were still limited by whatever parameters were set. A maintenance bot wouldn’t know how to do a child-care bot’s job and vice-versa. But this… Peter… was different. His brain showed new pathways that weren’t created by his original program. Most were damaged, likely from being reset and overwritten countless times, but Tony could still see the evidence.

“No wonder you were all messed up, sweetheart,” Tony says quietly. “They lobotomized you.”

Granted, the staff at the Eden Club probably had no fucking clue what they were dealing with. They just saw a malfunctioning bot and did factory reset after factory reset while Peter was desperately trying to cling on to whatever he had previously learned.

It makes Tony’s stomach hurt.

He sits in silence and watches the data stream for a while, gently stroking Peter’s hair. It’s incredible. He’s incredible.

And then Tony makes a really, really stupid decision.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he states. In about 30 seconds he has a blueprint of the club up on his screen and Peter wrapped up in his shirt. He calls Happy and tells him to bring the car around the back and manages to hoist Peter up over his shoulder, groaning softly from the weight.

“You’re a lot heavier than you look, gorgeous,” he says, voice strained from the effort. A quick glance down the hallway shows he’s alone, and his scrambler should still be functional, so he darts out and makes a beeline for the storage room. He slips inside and closes the door softly behind him.

“Ok,” he whispers to himself, “there should be an exit right over…”

He nearly drops Peter right on his head but manages to catch him before he hits the ground, and then he freezes. The room is filled with androids. They’re lined up like mannequins, all staring blankly ahead. All of them look like Peter.

“Jesus. Fuck.”

They’re all powered down, but the visual of it is literally staggering.

“How many… how many of you are like him?” Tony asks aloud, as if he’s hoping some of them will answer, will follow him home too. But of course they don’t. And Tony doesn’t have time to check every single one to see if the same deviation is present. He squeezes tighter around Peter’s waist.

“If you’re in there, I’ll come back for you,” he says. “If I figure this out… WHEN I figure this out. I’ll come back.”

He feels like he owes it to Peter to make that promise.

A shout from down the hall makes him snap out of his stupor and he races to the exit. Happy is waiting with the car door open and he practically tosses Peter inside, yelling for Happy to step on it, and they’re gone before security even reaches the back door.

#starker #starker fic #tony x peter #tbpwrites #nff #android au #i would do more in this 'verse just to get in some more wireplay lol

[tintentrinkerin]

Harness & Spears

Chapter 5: Father’s Eyes

missed a chapter? Check out my Masterlist or AO3

Researching for a case a year after they quit first feels weird to Sam, he has to get used to all the programs, his usual agenda. Today it’s so much easier with some computer skills. No more libraries, no more grainy scans of articles in local papers. Today, you just have to open a search engine app on your phone or a computer and you will be able to find dozens of cases in an hour or two. Of course, there’s still the work of sorting the wheat from the chaff, but Jack is a big help. They sit in the library together and go search for cases. Cas is really sweet to them, just like a butler he offers hot beverages and sandwiches, even though Sam must really hold him back to go full on “Yes, sir”. They want a case, and there are hundreds of them, but also, after Jack became God he brought all the hunters back that Chuck had banished. Donna and Jody, a couple now, as they announced just months after Jack’s ascend, and her girls, all in the hunter business. They heard from Eileen sporadically, but after all that happened and how uneasy Sam felt about the whole manipulation (and he was absolutely certain Chuck pulled the strings there, even though, when they originally met, Sam was drawn to her - but nothing more), she kept her distance and operated in Ireland and also all over Europe. The hunters from the other universe also just hunted in small groups. Charlie and her girlfriend retired for good. And Sam was still bitter about his own behaviour - projecting ‘his’ Charlie on this woman, who was so much different. He knew she hacked some computers every now and then to prank some potential Dicks. Sam was connected to the hunters, most of them. He has been clear about him and Dean, Cas (and later Jack) not going hunting anymore. But now things changed and Sam needed to check if any other hunters were on the cases him and Jack might find interesting. Running in another couple of hunting buddies is not a problem on a personal level, but the mutual sabotage will happen. It’s Murphy’s Law. That’s why Sam has a plan. They will take cases other hunters wouldn’t like to do. There are several reasons for hunting in the first place and reasons which cases to pursue and which not. Let noble monster hunting and cleansing the world be some hunter’s motivation, revenge, the thrill (some people really were that sick and hunted monsters for the kicks) and of course. The money. Oh yes, the money. But the Winchester conglomerate doesn’t worry about money, that’s why Sam won’t look for cases that have to do with wealthy people or towns announcing rewards. Also, when he knew the kind of monster and that a lot of hunters were after these creatures for killing their kin or loved ones, he better didn’t interfere. You could hunt monsters for their venom or psychic abilities, their blessings or whatever. Something a friend of Dean did not so long ago and got himself killed for it.

It shouldn’t be anything exotic, the New Age brought new monsters, at least that’s what Jack says.

“I was God, yes, and I knew everything that Chuck knew, but believe it or not, not even Chuck knew all of his creatures. His mind is packed with the stuff he wanted to do or not to do - if you ask me he was a little like George R. R. Martin. Got lost in his own massive universe and all the detail. I tried to give all of it structure, that’s why some things on Earth changed, but after some time I thought my head would explode and I uh, outsourced some good stuff in new universes. Amara is way better in doing all of that, she created way more universes and new forms of life as I did. She and her brother - don’t get me started.”

Jack looks exhausted. “Does it sound weird, Sam? That I wanted to be down here with you, all of you, but especially you, and give Amara all that power?”

Sam smiles about Jack’s outbreak and that he obviously read Game of Thrones. “No, it’s not weird. You were with Amara and I bet she’s very pleasant company but she wasn’t what you longed for. You didn’t want to be God who’s in every drop of rain, and all that. It was noble and pure hearted and generous of you to try, but you were allowed to fail. But, speaking of Game of Thrones, I have a few questions regarding--”

Sam is rudely interrupted in his chatter with Jack when Dean comes into the library and sits down two chairs away from Jack. Jack immediately gets up.

“Uh, Sam, I will -errm, go pack my bags. I think you will find a good case.”

Sam sighs.

“I’ll be with you soon, baby. Just gimme a minute.”

Jack is quick as a flash and out of sight within seconds.

Dean scoffs while thudding his mug on the table. Coffee pours out and stains the wood.

“Easy on the furniture Dean, it’s not your enemy”, Sam says without looking up. He can’t show Dean his face right now or he will just erupt. He feels the heat in his cheeks and a hot tickle up his neck. Since Dean threw a mug after Sam yesterday they haven’t seen each other and to be frank, Sam could totally renounce any other encounter with Dean for a while. Plus, Sam has a hickey, because Jack went a little passionate, clingy and possessive last night, for whatever reason.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you and… baby. ” The last word is like venom. As always. Dean wants to start another fight.

“I remember that I heard you calling Cas ‘daddy’ multiple times. You think that was really soothing for my wild imagination?”

“You call Jack what he is. A baby.”

“Another word, Dean, and you know I’ll knock you out. I have enough of your bullshit. You act like a jealous housewife. No, wait, more like a cuck!”

Dean scoffs and leaves.

“Do whatever you want, but don’t do it when I’m around or I’ll tear him apart.”

Sam sits here in shock. He has heard a lot from Dean about Jack, he has always been nasty to him and yes, even threatened to kill him twice, even was willing to execute him as part of Chuck’s evil plan. Yes, he was bitter about Mary and hell, how bitter Dean has been as Jack brought so many people back. All the ‘others’: Bobby and Charlie with her girlfriend. All these people. He brought Eileen back, and Dean thought it was to make Sam happy (and yes, that has been Jack’s intention, but ultimately it didn’t) and he was resistant to the arguments, that Mary was happy with John, she didn’t want to go back in this world she never felt like she fit in. He couldn’t be comforted by the messages Jack as a medium brought to Dean, that Mary loved him no matter what and that she will be happy when they meet again. Nothing could’ve soothed Dean’s aching. Sam understands that he’s hurt, but now, it just feels like Dean is angry at Jack for simply existing and then being so bold to love Sam.

Jack brought Cas back for Dean. He had risked a feud with the Empty that could only be avoided by Amara and Jack forcefully put the Regent of the Empty asleep. The Empty wasn’t sealed though, Rowena still reigned in hell, and still demons went to the Empty. But there are no angels on Earth anymore, Jack has naphil powers and even Cas regained some faint strength back, but Jack didn’t make new angels.

Jack really built a world in which it was possible for Dean and Cas to be together, he risked being invaded and maybe killed, since no one knows how really powerful the Empty was.

Why is nothing Jack does, no matter how universe shattering, unbelievably cosmic and holy and insane it is, not finally letting Dean the old grudge go?

It seems like everything he does just makes it worse.

Sam hides his face and in the safety of his own palms he allows to cry in fear for his own spiteful brother and soulmate. This will end badly if they don’t find a way to reconcile.

“You have to stop that, Dean” Cas says when Dean is back in the Deancave.

Cas is in his robe, nothing beneath. He looks pale and a little skinny. The last weeks have been hard on him and Dean knows it’s his fault. He makes his angel boyfriend sick. And yet he’s sick himself, and he’s kicking and fighting, with talons and teeth, words and throwing things after his brother. Also, he erupts the second Cas dares to mention it.

“Stop with what?”, he asks.

He picks the remote and wants to turn on the TV, loud metal music blasting but with a snap of a finger, the TV silent and it won’t turn back on.

“Castiel. Don’t fuck with me, I swear, I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re ‘not in the mood’ for weeks, maybe months. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Why won’t you let me help?”

Dean’s eyes narrow dangerously as he faces the seraph.

“Help? How could you help? My brother fucks a toddler.”

Cas sighs and it sounds so endlessly sad. Defeated. Dean doesn’t want to see it, acknowledge it, that he is indeed very wrong. Jack is no toddler, Jack is no brat, Jack is so mighty he could really smite the whole bunker with a hiccup still, even though he’s not God anymore. Dean should be so damn careful. Dean should see how much Jack begs for his forgiveness and his approval.

But Dean can’t. And Dean won’t.

“Dean.”

Dean is so full of sorrow and fear, it hurts to hear his own name so gentle, so loving yet somehow fatherly. Cas loves him and Dean should be happy. He has been happy. The Empty had taken him away and Jack had fought to get him back. So they could be a family.

But this isn’t family to Dean. He’s around the person he loves the most, the person he loves with a burning, blinding insanity. He will never be happy like this.

Cas dares to come closer, around two steps away, offers Dean a hand. Dean can’t even look at him but he takes Cas’s hand and then pulls him in a desperate embrace.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, Cas. I don’t want to fight with you.”

It’s been a while, actually the last time Dean slept with Cas was the night when Jack asked him if Sam gay. This question is carved under his skin and if you look closely, you can see them shine through like thin red scars.

The streak won’t break today either.

“Will he ever stop hating me?”, Jack asks.

He has his suitcase packed, same as a backpack with snacks, water, headphones, his teddy Marvelous Marvin, a powerbank and, something he’s very proud of - his own angel blade. The only angels on earth are Jack and Castiel but the blade kills monsters just as well. He kneads the bundle of the purple blanket in his lap when he looks up to Sam.

Sam’s still tense from before, his eyes red and narrow, Sam must look like he didn’t sleep much or has been on a bender.

“I don’t know… I wish I knew what’s wrong with him.”

With a deep sigh Sam sinks beside Jack on the mattress. The bed creaks and a spring nudges in Sam’s butt cheek. Either they need a new mattress or they move in a room together, but Sam doesn’t dare to talk about these things yet. So far, he’s happy about the privacy. But he’s also constantly longing for Jack - a stalemate.

Jack leans against Sam’s shoulder and shyly feels for Sam’s hand. Sam is too glad to take it, intertwine their fingers and kiss Jack’s knuckles.

“It makes me sick, Sam. I’m afraid all the time he’s around. I’m afraid he might want to…”

“Hurt you?”

Jack nods, his lips a thin line.

“I won’t let him. And most of all, you won’t let him. Right?”

Another silent nod.

“Don’t worry about it now, our bags are packed and I found a case. I told you about the parameters I used to find a case no one else would investigate, and this one here is especially weird, but not weird enough for us to follow, and a bit boring, but not boring enough for us to NOT follow it. We’ve been to haunted houses before, right?”

“Yes, it’s mostly vengeful spirits or poltergeists, right?”

Sam nods. “Yes, exactly. Sometimes triggered by the plans of tearing the house down, the same can happen with big bodies of water, when they are threatened to be dried out, spirits of people who drowned will start going on a rampage. Haunted houses are like level 1 of every hunter. Rocksalt, shotgun, holy water, fire. Boom, ghost gone.”

Jack frowns a little. “Really, we’re going on a case that any newbie hunter could solve?”

Sam chuckles.

“Yep.”

It’s absolutely a thinly veiled reason to go on a hunt, but it’s the same that Dean and Cas did weeks ago when Jack sneaked out. In the end they also ‘just’ took on a vampire nest with five vamps and their Creator and the rest of the time they had a blast in Vegas, why should Sam not do the same? He wants to be alone with Jack, because Dean definitely ruined the pleasant experience of the tantra massage. Sam had been so happy back then and oh, crap, he was close to do more to Jack than just the massage. He wouldn’t have slept with him on this massage table, that was utterly uncomfortable, but he had been turned on so bad, that didn’t happen very often.

Sam really falls for Jack deeply and seriously. It’s a wonderful and frightening feeling at the same time.

Jack slides on Sam’s lap and straddles him, arms tight around his neck. Jack squints a little when he’s so close, his big blue eyes will never cease to amaze Sam.

“How can you not be Castiel’s son?”, Sam blurts, his hands cupping the naphil’s face and brushing away some strands of hair.

Jack’s mouth opens slightly, his tongue sneaks out to lick his upper lip.

“I am Castiel’s son.”

“I know, I just mean, genetically. You have his eyes. Does that sound stupid, baby?”

Jack shakes his head with a grin, his neck and face turn tenderly pink.

How did the biggest monster of all create this perfect boy?

“No, not stupid. I like the way you look at me”, Jack silently admits and the blush turns berry red.

“How do I look at you?”

Sam kisses Jack’s parted lips, feels the hitched breath and how Jack tightens up his back.

“First you looked at me with fear, when I was born. Then you looked at me in sympathy, in worry… Then gentle, loving. Just now, longing… You see a man, not a child, right? That’s the look in your face how you look at someone beautiful you want to be with…?”

Sam’s big hands creep under Jack’s pullover and Jack sighs, a light shudder down his spine and this tiny, quiet noise of content.

“You are beautiful, and yes, I want to be with you. All the time”, Sam whispers, he sounds rough, feels like he needs to clear his throat.

Jack lays his hands on Sam’s and guides him down his sweatpants. Sam squeezes. A slight gasp.

“We will have a lot of time for fun stuff once we’re out of here.”

That makes Jack jerk up, jump and drag Sam on his feet.

“Come, Sam! I can’t wait to be out of here.”

#harness&spears #rating: teen #sin is sinning #winkline #samjack

[dont-tempt-me-frodo]

Prompt: The first time Jaskier sees Geralt hunting a selkimore, and the ensuing panic because Geralt Did Not advise that the best method was to “get it from the inside”

hey so thank you for this, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write.

you can also read it on ao3

“So, what is it we’re hunting again?” Jaskier chirped as he struggled to keep up with the Witcher.

Geralt grunted as he waded through waist high reeds and rushes. The scent of silt off the lake ahead of them hung heavy in the air and the thick heat of the sun was stifling.

“The alderman didn’t seem very sure about it,” Jaskier stumbled slightly, readjusted his lute strap and tried to pick up the pace, “He was very vague. ‘A big monster in the lake is eating people.’ That was all about he said wasn’t it? Did you get anymore from the villagers? You know? The witnesses? I mean, you’ve taken on contracts with less to go on before but – Geralt? Are you even listening to me?” Jaskier stopped, hands on his hips, frown on his face.

Geralt paused, scanning the surface of the lake with keen amber eyes, then continued to push his way towards the shoreline. He didn’t miss Jaskier’s indignant huff and he rolled his eyes.

“A selkimore,” he gruffed.

“A what?” Jaskier hurried to catch up to him again.

“A selk – A big monster in the lake that eats people, though not usually on purpose,” the Witcher growled with a sigh.

“Wait what?”

“They’re plankton feeders but can suck up a boat if it gets in the way of its feeding path. Usually I try to leave them alone, but this one has settled too close to people,” Geralt grunted, “And we are not hunting anything. I am hunting it. You are going to stay out of the way.”

“Yes, yes,” Jaskier waved him off nonchalantly.

“I mean it Jaskier,” Geralt glared at him over his shoulder and Jaskier wilted.

“Fine,” a slight pout graced his lips.

“Hm.”

Jaskier inhaled sharply then fell into step behind the Witcher as they continued their trek through the tall grasses.

“So, how does one kill a selkimore?” the Bard asked.

“In a very specific way,” Geralt rumbled.

“Care to elaborate?”

Jaskier crashed into Geralt’s back as the Witcher halted abruptly.

“What? Did you see something?” he peeked out from behind Geralt.

The reeds bled into thick mud littered with rocks which met with the murky water of the lake, stretching out for miles beyond. Thick, dense forest lined the far shore and the mid-morning sun glinted off the water like glass.

“It knows we’re here,” Geralt mumbled, pulling his silver sword from its sheath.

“Ominous as statements go,” Jaskier lilted, keeping that light air about him even though Geralt could tell he was on edge, could sense the coil of tension creeping into his posture, could smell the spike of uncertainty mingling with his usual floral scent.

“Stay here,” he ordered then marched, or rather, squelched his way to the water’s edge.

Jaskier crouched down among the rushes, keeping his blue eyes trained on Geralt as the Witcher stalked slowly along the shoreline. Getting to witness his muse carry out great and heroic deeds in person always made for better ballads than second-hand information, and Geralt was terrible at recounting what happened. Watching from a safe distance suited Jaskier fine. He had no intention of putting himself in danger if he could help it, and he would get to watch his friend in action. A win-win situation.

He narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun as Geralt picked up a stone and threw it into the lake. The water shimmered with the ripples and anticipation clawed at Jaskier’s gut.

The lake became still again, and he heard Geralt’s grunt of annoyance. The Witcher scooped up another stone and launched it even further. It broke the waters surface with a ‘plop’ and the ripples chased each other with the impact but still nothing.

Jaskier shuffled slightly in his hiding place. Any other person would assume that either the monster wasn’t there, or try a different spot to bring it forth, but Geralt has sensed it and Jaskier trusted the Witcher to know what he was doing.

Geralt tossed a third stone in the air but before he had the chance to throw it, the lake erupted in front of him and he stumbled back as streams of water and a foul stench washed over him.

Jaskier let out an audible gasp.

The creature that rose from the lake towered a good thirty feet above Geralt. It resembled a large, thick, white skinned worm with rows upon rows of jagged teeth in its gaping maw. It fixed Geralt with small fierce eyes and, sensing malicious intent, it lunged at him, crab-like legs scrabbling at the mud as it hauled itself out of the water. Its piercing screech rang across the lake.

Jaskier’s heart pounded wildly in his chest as he watched Geralt leap out of the way, brandishing his sliver sword and steadying himself. The Bard felt that familiar pang in his gut as he wondered how on earth the Witcher was going to take down something that seemed so impossible and then walk away, or limp away as was often the case.

He’ll be fine, Jaskier assured himself, he always is. He’ll do some cool thing with his sword or his magic signs and – SWEET MOTHER OF MELITELE!

Jaskier’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Bile rose in his throat. Shock blurred his vision.

It-the selkimore-the-the fucking-it had eaten him! Swallowed him whole! And Geralt just…just let it! Didn’t even try to defend himself. What the fuck had just happened?

Panic muddled Jaskier’s brain as he crouched among the reeds trying to process what he had just seen. He was struggling to breathe as the grief crashed into him and tears pricked at his eyes and he didn’t know what to do.

He’d been travelling with Geralt for a few years now and even though the life of a Witcher held many dangers, he had assumed that there would be plenty more years to come. He was building a life for himself, a reputation, he mattered to people. He was building something with Geralt. Trying to be the man’s friend was like pulling teeth, but he was slowly getting there, and he knew that even though the Witcher would never admit it, Geralt enjoyed having him around. But for it all to just suddenly come to and end, and for it to end like…like this?

Jaskier stared at the selkimore as it swayed slightly. A burning hatred towards it scorched through him. The thought to rush out and stab it with the knife tucked into his boot did cross his mind, but he knew that would only accomplish his own death. And then who would remember Geralt? Who would immortalize him in song so that he wouldn’t be forgotten? That was his job now. To sing about the White Wolf until the end of his days. To honour him and his good heart and… Jaskier brushed the tears threatening to spill down his face with the back of his hand.

Oh gods, another thought struck him, how am I going to tell Roach?

The selkimore lifted its blunt-nosed head and seemed to shiver. It blinked up at the sun and made a soft hissing noise. Slowly, it started to slither back into the water but then it stopped. Its whole body seemed to coil and convulse and then, to Jaskier’s horror, it reared up with a bellow of pain as its guts spilled from a gash along its stomach. Organs and blood slopped onto the wet mud and Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat. Geralt tumbled to the ground as he hacked his way out of the monster. The selkimore writhed and flailed then crashed back into the water, its last cry gurgling in its throat as it died.

The Witcher stood, gulping in air and trying to wipe the worst of the gore from his face. Jaskier burst from his cover and pelted over to him.

“You’re alive!” he whooped, grinning from ear to ear, giddy relief plastered all over his face, “I thought you were gone! I thought I’d lost you!”

“I told you there was a specific way to kill it,” Geralt gruffed, pulling at face at the rancid smelling muck coating his skin and clothing.

Jaskier’s beaming smile faltered and indignant fury clouded over him.

“You dick. You should have told me. I was worried sick. I thought-“

“Jaskier. It’s fine. I’m fine,” Geralt glanced at him, that annoying confusion tainting his expression, like it always did whenever Jaskier expressed concern for him.

“Well-well-fuck! Bloody hell Geralt! How was I supposed to know you planned on getting yourself eaten! I thought you were dead! I thought –“ his voice broke on the last word and he turned away from Geralt, shaking with the effort to control himself.

Geralt frowned at him, trying to puzzle through the torrent of emotion coming off Jaskier in waves.

“I’m sorry,” he said carefully, “You’re right. I should have told you. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Just…” Jaskier turned to him again and Geralt was taken aback by how very small and hurt he looked, “Just don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I won’t,” Geralt tried for reassuring and sincere but he wasn’t sure the Bard believed him.

“Right. Good,” Jaskier mumbled.

He cast an eye over Geralt then sighed.

“Come on. Back to the tavern. We’ve a hefty coin purse to pick up and you need a bath.”

“Hm.”

“No protesting. If we are sharing a room tonight, I refuse to sleep in the same space as you, stinking like that,” Jaskier sounded a bit more like himself, blue eyes sparking with mirth.

“Fine.”

Jaskier spun on the spot and marched off back in the direction of the village. Geralt followed after him and even though the Bard was babbling on about trying to find words that rhymed with selkimore, the Witcher could tell that this had affected Jaskier more deeply than he was letting on and he promised himself to remember to talk Jaskier though each step of the hunt in the future as to not cause him any more hurt if he could help it.

#the witcher #my writing #answered #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #dandelion #mayastormborn

[transxfiles]

Love Like You by two_drama_nerds_in_a_boat | @homeworkforpigeons

“Jane Kirk is sixteen, a sophomore at the Riverside public high school, and she’s never left Iowa. Not really. Visits to Starfleet California with her mom when she was a toddler don’t count, and   she doesn’t let herself think about Tarsus at all. To be honest, she’s rather blocked out most of Tarsus - they tell her it’s the Human brain’s reaction to stress, fight-or-flight scenarios. But even though some of her memories might not be great, she knows she’s never met a Vulcan before.

Right now, there’s a Vulcan standing right next to her on the sidewalk.

And God, she’s pretty.”

Word Count: 4210

Find this fic on AO3

The alarm’s ringing again. Loud enough to wake her up.

She doesn't want to wake up. She never wants to wake up.

“Fuck,” she mutters, kicking her covers away and rolling out of bed. She doesn’t really have any reason to be upset, other than being woken up early - but she’s the one who set the alarm, so really, she shouldn’t be that frustrated at all.

“Stupid past me,” she mutters. “Jane Tiberius Kirk of last night, what were you thinking?”

Jane Kirk is sixteen years old. Practically an adult, she thinks, as most teenagers often do. Of course, Jane’s thoughts are a bit more justified, in this department. Raising yourself will do that to you. After your Dad dies on the day of your birth, and your Mom remarries an asshole and then abandons you, and then your brother ditches you on top of it all, you start to make your own breakfast and fold your own socks and make your own deadlines and shit. It happens.

Every day during the school year she wakes up like this, to the pinging of her alarm

She didn’t used to be like this; preferred sleeping in, getting to school an hour or two late. Sometimes not going at all. But a shitty report card gave Frank yet another excuse to call her a waste of space, and was the final tipping point for shipping her away for good.

(Tarsus… wasn’t great. To put it very, very vaguely. She was sent there at fourteen by a stepfather desperate to get rid of her, and she’s determined to never, ever go back. She knows it’s over, now, knows it can’t hurt her. That’s what the therapist told her. But it’s still there.)

It’s not the first day of school today, thank God. Just another mid-year one. A day of no importance. It’s almost insignificant enough that Jane might just consider skipping, except she knows she can’t skip, not after what happened on Tarsus two years ago. So she opens one of her dresser drawers and fishes around for clothes.

Jane Kirk is sixteen. She cuts her own hair with her mom’s bad kitchen scissors (she wouldn’t use Winona’s good ones, wouldn’t do that to her) cuts it short short short like she likes it, and she wears shitty t-shirts old enough to be considered precious artifacts if they weren’t so goddamn ratty. They say things like ‘Beastie Boys’ and ‘Talking Heads' and she even has one that says ‘Nine Inch Nails’. Old bands, from the 20th century or so, that are loud or angry enough to suit her just right, but old enough to be free online.

She gets dressed, grabs her backpack and her school PADD, running out the door and letting it slam behind her. She could technically be driving to school (she’s old enough by now - technically she won’t be able to get her real license until she’s seventeen, but sixteen is old enough for a permit, which could get her to and from school no problem) but Frank told her to fuck off after she kinda sorta drove his precious sports care off a cliff.

She doesn’t even regret it, not really, not even as she finds herself walking alongside the dusty Riverside highway.

It was damn fun to drive that car off a cliff. Fuck Frank.

-

Jane Kirk is sixteen, a sophomore at the Riverside public high school, and she’s never left Iowa. Not really. Visits to Starfleet California with her mom when she was a toddler don’t count, and   she doesn’t let herself think about Tarsus at all. To be honest, she’s rather blocked out most of Tarsus - they tell her it’s the Human brain’s reaction to stress, fight-or-flight scenarios. But even though some of her memories might not be great, she knows she’s never met a Vulcan before.

Right now, there’s a Vulcan standing right next to her on the sidewalk.

And God, she’s pretty.

“‘M Jane,” she says. Trying to make conversation. “You waiting for the bus?”

The Vulcan’s eyes are intelligent, scanning her up and down, noting her backpack and the PADD in her hand, but no response comes. Jane realizes, for the first time, that she might not understand Standard. Which would be a bit odd - most people understand Standard, especially if they plan on visiting some middle-of-nowhere Terran dump like Riverside. But Jane’s never met a Vulcan, doesn’t know much about them. Their culture, their customs. It’s quite possible this girl never learned Standard at all, has never heard it before now (however unlikely that may be).

So Jane tries again.

“You going on the bus?” She asks, again, pointing to the little scrap of metal that’s a lousy excuse for a sign, the only indicator of there being a bus stop here.

The Vulcan girl looks at her. Barely nods - though the nod is there, that small sign of understanding, and Jane’s grateful for that.

“Neat,” says Jane. “I’m, uh, catching a ride to school.”

The girl says something in response, but it comes out awkward and quiet. Jane can’t tell what language it was meant to be, though she has some hunch it was an attempt at Standard. She’s really wishing she’d stolen some translator tech from school, now. She’d thought about it, before, but never had much use for it.

“I’m Jane,” Jane says, again, trying to salvage whatever it is that currently feels like it’s crashing straight into the ground right now. “Dunno if you caught that, before.”

She seems to understand what Jane’s saying, now, at least enough to know the name.

“I am Spock,” she says, Standard broken and heavily accented, pointing to herself.

“Nice to meet you Spock,” Jane says, for some reason unable to stop herself from grinning. “Welcome to hell.”

-

Spock seems to be around her age, though can’t say for sure - Jane has a hard time understanding specifics through the language barrier problem, and she’s never met a Vulcan before. She doesn’t know how the whole aging thing works with them.

Spock’s tall and wiry and absolutely stunning. She wears too-big sweaters, probably hand-knit by a parent, and bright purplish-blue eye makeup that Jane’s pretty sure doesn’t really fit the Vulcan norm. She seems clever, incredibly clever, which would make sense; Jane’s heard that Vulcans are insanely smart, eidetic memory or something like that. She’s sure it’s true; she can see it in Spock’s eyes. She’s intelligent.

Of course Jane wants to know everything about her.

But Spock doesn’t seem to speak much Standard, and Jane doesn’t know any Vulcan.

She doesn’t understand a word she says.

-

The bus arrives, they get on it, and when Jane sits down, Spock takes the seat beside her, back completely straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. Jane takes it as a good sign, and spends the bus ride to school rambling on and on about new research that’s come out in transporter tech, how they haven’t quite figured out the way to transport people long distances yet but they’re getting better, how she thinks she might know where they’re going wrong and how to fix it, and she tells Spock, and Spock listens, and no one’s listened to Jane in a long, long time.

They get off the bus and they go to school and it turns out that Spock’s in all the advanced classes, which is great, because Jane’s in the advanced classes, too. She wonders what the fuck Spock’s doing here, how she can manage in school when she barely knows the language, why anyone would even want to come to Riverside in the first place. But she doesn’t ask, because she’s not sure how well Spock would understand, anyway, and then it’s evening and Jane’s taking the bus home and she’s on her bed and on her PADD and stealing textbooks off the Internet. It’s not that hard, really; most of the time she doesn’t even have to hack the stuff herself. Someone else has done it for her, a similarly desperate student with no cash and no way to keep up in class without a textbook. Finding one that’ll assist her in this specific area of study proves a bit harder, but eventually she finds a website (passcode protected, membership required) and she gets past all that shit with ease, and she downloads what she’s looking for.

Jane Kirk is sixteen, and she’s smart, damn smart, and she considers herself pretty good with languages. But Vulcan is fucking hard. And for her, it shouldn’t be. She conquered most of Earth’s predominant languages within the span of a year, and she picked up SSL (Standard Sign Language) within a week. She can do Orion (quite a few dialects), Tellaran, even a bit of Klingon (which means she can introduce herself and say dick and fuck off and other such choice phrases). But Vulcan?

Vulcan’s a bitch.

(She means this in the nicest way, of course.)

She picks up her PADD, new textbook just downloaded, and she finds it almost impossible to get through. She can’t even really explain why. Maybe it’s just the general syntax that’s fucking her up. That’s happened before. Could be that the language is just nearly impossible for Human vocal chords to manage, in which case this would all be yet another lost cause. But she digs a bit deeper and finds out that, though broken, she might be able to get out something understandable.

She skips all lessons on written Vulcan; she won’t need that. She’s looking for the more practical uses. Conversational type stuff. She looks into phonetics, watching videos of spoken Vulcan.

She’s up until maybe 3AM, and she realizes she ought to get at least a bit of sleep before the sun rises again. She didn’t even realize the time until she looked to the top of her PADD. She’s never been good at noticing time passing when she’s caught up in something like this. But once she realizes she only has four hours at most to get some sleep in, she turns of her light and tucks her PADD away.

Jane’s sixteen. She’s tired, but she can’t seem to fall asleep. She thinks she’s in love with Spock. She realizes, for the first time, that she has no idea what love is.

-

They see each other all the time, thanks to school. It’s great. Before Spock, Jane really had no one. If they were down a person in Chem, she’d go without a lab partner. She worked by herself on History presentations, never went to study groups. Arguably never needed study groups, based on some of her recent test scores, but still, the socialization would have been nice. When she really wanted company, she stopped by the local bar. She was technically a minor, yeah, but the town was small and no one cared. It was unhealthy and far from safe, she knows that, but it was where she could go.

But now, she’s got Spock, and she doesn’t really do any of that anymore.

They stick to each other, through the school day, then before and after it. Hanging out under trees or in the wide open spaces between farms that no one really goes anymore. They’re walking through one of the empty fields right now, and Jane has her eyes on a gnarled old tree to climb. Spock doesn’t climb trees, so Jane’ll probably have to go on by herself, but she knows that Spock will be happy to stand and watch, talk maybe. It’s been a few weeks, now; they’ve both been getting better at communicating.

Jane points at the tree in the distance, question in her eyes.

Spock nods, and they begin to walk towards it. As soon as they reach the base of the tree Jane’s climbing, one branch, then another, up and up, glancing down every once and awhile to check that Spock’s still there.

Jane notices that Spock’s wearing one of those sweaters again. Spock’s always wearing sweaters.

“Ko-mekh?” Asks Jane, pointing at the sweater. Mother? She’s been meaning to ask about it, and hopes Spock’s able to understand; Jane’s Vulcan isn’t perfect, but she just finished up the chapter on family and interpersonal relations last night, and she’s feeling pretty good in that area.

Spock nods. “Gift,” she says, in Standard. “Hanukkah.”

“Oh! You’re Jewish!” Jane smiles. “Me too. My family's not really practicing though...” ...because my dad died and my mom's never home, she thinks, but doesn't say it out loud. She reaches for another branch just above her, only to find it the slightest bit out of reach. With a grunt, she jumps, grabbing at it with both hands and swinging herself around until she’s successfully made it up another level. Jane’s grinning, looking down at Spock who’s looking a bit smaller now. “Taller than you,” she says.

The Vulcan’s raising her eyebrow again. “Riyeht.” Incorrect.

“Not when I’m in a tree.”

Spock sighs, says something in Vulcan that probably translates to ‘Silly Human.’ Jane makes a mental note to look that up when she gets back to her house tonight. Figures it’ll be useful to know.

-

Jane’s sixteen, and tall enough for her age, and strong from working in the fields every summer. Strong enough to hold her own against Frank, even if she can’t really fight back.  It’s fine, thought; Frank doesn’t hit her so much, anymore. She doesn’t know why. Might have something to do with Tarsus, or something to do with her getting older. She tries not to think about it. She still keeps her door locked at night.

When she sneaks back into the house this evening, she finds him passed out on the couch. He smells like shit - she plugs her nose as she walks past him, resigning herself to a shower as soon as she gets upstairs, just to get rid of the lingering stench. Done with the shower, she collapses onto her bed wearing the first clean clothes she can find (which in this case is a pair of jeans and a tank top), weary, eyes closed as she fishes around blindly for her PADD. As soon as she finds it, she opens her eyes, and flips through one of the Standard-Vulcan dictionaries she’s been using for reference.

If she’s reading it right, ‘Silly Human’ would be Duh-komihn. She flips a few more pages, but she can’t find a term for ‘Silly Vulcan’. She wants to call Spock now, but Frank could hear; the walls are thinner than they seem. She doesn't want to risk that. She’ll have to bring it up with Spock later. They're doing some project or another together in Chem, and they're meeting up for it tomorrow. She'll ask her about it then.

-

They’re getting better at communicating with each other.

It's useful for a variety of reasons - for one, Jane can understand Vulcan, and she knows for a fact that Spock isn't making fun of her all the time, which is a bit of a relief. And now Spock knows how much Jane swears, which is probably for the better, because hey, that's important shit to know. Jane asks her what the Vulcan word is for 'Silly Vulcan' after explaining her 'Silly Human' research. Spock tells her that they don't say 'Silly Vulcan' because Vulcans are incapable of being silly (or at least, that's what Jane thinks Spock tells her - she's still not the best at Vulcan, after all). Jane says that she doesn't think that's true, and Spock struggles to maintain her cold Vulcan facade, so so tempted to stick her tongue out at the duh-komihn.

"Vulcans do not lie," Spock mutters.

Jane keeps a list of the new things she’s learned about Spock. Right now, it looks something like this:

Good at chess.

Jewish

Human mother?

(Maybe) exchange student

Could theoretically climb trees but won’t because of ‘Surak’s Teachings’ or something like that.

Meditates

Enjoys ‘Narat do-toh’? NOTE: Vulcan game, like hide-and-seek

Can't lie - but that's obviously a lie. Yeah.

“What you writing?” Spock asks, after catching Jane adding something to the ever-growing list in her school notebook.

“Nirsh apc’koik du,” she says. No business you. She cringes at herself; she definitely butchered that. She was trying to say something along the lines of Not your business but she’s pretty sure she just completely screwed up.

Spock grabs the notebook, eyes skimming the page with superhuman speed. She raises an eyebrow, passing it back to Jane.

“List?”

“Oh quiet you.”

The corner of the Vulcan's mouth twitches in that way that's basically her version of a smirk. "A me list."

-

Jane's sixteen. She's smart, smarter than most sixteen-year-olds are, though she couldn't explain why. She likes coding (specifically hacking, though she's been told by multiple people that that's not technically legal) and learning languages and even the rare History lesson here or there. But she absolutely despises studying.

“Spock,” Jane whines, throwing herself across the desk. “When’re we gonna go?”

They’ve been cooped up in one of the far corners of the school’s (very, very, small) library for hours now. She’s honestly amazed it hasn’t closed on them yet, especially taking into account the annoyed looks the librarian won't stop shooting them. After her latest stink-eye, Jane thinks that they’re a minutes away from being forcefully booted. Not that it’ll deter Spock; whatever it is she’s currently researching, the Vulcan seems keen to continue until midnight if she must.

“Come on, look at me.” Jane tapped Spock’s shoulder.

Spock’s head snaps up, eyes locking on hers. Vulcans aren’t meant to show emotion, Jane’s heard, but the frustration in Spock’s eyes is clear.

“Listen. The librarian’s gonna kick us out any second now.” Jane’s gaze strays back to the angry woman at the front of the library, and she suddenly remembers every sin she’s committed in its vicinity (pre-Tarsus, of course, but still) and she gets a bit more anxious. “We really should go soon. Soon as in now. And don’t play dumb or anything because I know you’re smart and can read body language and understand at least a tenth of what I’m saying because we’re good at understanding each other.”

Spock runs a hand through her uncharacteristically mussed black hair.

“Ashal-veh…” she sighs, obviously tired. Spock mutters some other words in Vulcan, too, with the odd Standard phrase thrown in (she’s picked up a few of those - full immersion will do that to you). Jane opts not to listen; sleep-deprived ramblings tend not to be the most coherent, and it’s not really worth her trouble, anyway, since she barely speaks the language.

Jane raises an eyebrow. She’s been practicing, working on it in front of a mirror, trying to do it the way Spock can. She knows she’s not nearly as good as Spock, yet, but she’s sure that once she finally gets it down it’ll be hilarious. “You must be more exhausted than I thought. You don’t normally slip into Vulcan when we’re at school.” Jane paused. “Didja get enough sleep last night?”

Spock gives her that look of Stop questioning me or I will kill you.

“So that’s a no.”

Spock mutters something else, but Jane doesn’t catch it.

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure killing people is against Surak’s teachings,” Jane says, hands falling to the pockets of her jeans.

At this, Spock lifts the corner of her mouth ever-so-slightly - the closest Vulcans seemed to get to a smile.

“Now come on, you,” Jane says, tugging at the sleeve of Spock’s sweater. “School’s over. Come on now. Out of the library, we’re getting you home.”

“But-” Spock says, switching back to her accented Standard.

“I.” Says Jane, Vulcan sharp in her mouth as the librarian glares at them once again. Now.

-

Jane's house is empty today. Frank's gone out somewhere, work, she thinks, not investigating further. So she brings Spock over, because she can, because she wants to.

Jane's sixteen. She's bored. She's in love with her best friend, and and she wants to invite her over.

They go in through the back door, the one with the tattered old screen over it to keep bugs away. It squeaks when it opens, but they never oil the hinges. Jane doesn't have the time and Frank doesn't give a shit, and Winona's never home to hear it, so they leave it be. Jane walks into the kitchen, tile cool beneath her feet (a relief after the outside heat) and Spock follows her silently. Spock's very quiet in the way she moves - almost cat-like, though Jane's never really spent time with cats before. She thinks this is what they're like. She thinks it's a bit funny.

They hurry up the stairs to Jane's room, not wanting to spend time in the rest of the house. Even when Frank's not home something about being in any of the main rooms just feels a bit off. Jane's room is better; cleaner (though the bar for that is so low, it may as well be on the ground) and it smells a bit nicer than the rest of the house, especially when she opens the window, and she has a little old-fashioned radio that she turns on when they walk in the room. She gets a few stations in, up here, mostly the local ones that play mediocre music and report on news and sports and things. She turns the dial until she finds a station that doesn't sound like it's being eaten by static. There's a song playing on the radio, quiet and sweet, the lyrics about love or something like that. Jane's not listening to it too much.

“You ever been dancing, Spock?”

She raises an eyebrow, mutters something in Vulcan, feigns annoyance. But Jane knows her well enough, now, and she knows that Spock's just avoiding the question.

"Okay," Jane says, thinking. "Well, would you like to dance with me?"

Spock considers this for a moment, the same way she thinks through difficult test questions, or how she acts after she's just learned another odd Terran phrase. After a moment's thought, she nods. Jane reaches out to grab her shoulders, and Spock puts her hands on Jane's waste. They don't hold hands; Jane doesn't really know why, yet, but she knows it's not something Spock's too keen on. And then they're dancing, just a little, slowly and a bit awkwardly, the music coming from the radio washing over them, floating out the open window on a breeze.

“Ashel-veh?” Jane whispers, knowing that Spock can hear her.

“You looked up the meaning?” Spock asks. Her Standard’s gotten better, just like Jane’s Vulcan isn’t so bad anymore.

“It was a bit harder to find, I’ll give you that.” Jane’s voice holds amusement, soft and warm and happy. “Not in my textbook, or anything. But eventually I found it in a dictionary.”

“Hm.”

“You called me darling,” Jane says.

“Yes. And you just returned the favor.”

“Yes.”

They're quiet. They listen to the music, soft and sweet in the background. The air is warm and muggy around them. Jane's holding on to Spock, resting her head on her shoulder, and she never ever ever wants to let go.

-

The grass is soft beneath them, if a bit damp, and the field is wide and open and empty and the sky feels vast and endless. Technically, it is. But it's not something you notice too often, with the tall structures constantly on the horizon and people crowding up every space known to man. Right now, it's just them. They're laying down in the middle of the field. They're young and naive and untouchable. They're looking at the stars.

"Do you have constellations on Vulcan?" Jane asks.

Spock says something about how drawing pictures based on lights in the sky is illogical, even if one does not know that they are simply burning balls of gas in space. Jane laughs, and immediately starts to show Spock all of the constellations she knows, spinning the stories that go with them. Ursa Major and Minor, Leo, The Seven Sisters, Orion...

"Illogical," Spock says once more. It's becoming her favorite word in Standard.

(Jane's favorite Vulcan phrase is 'bath-paik' meaning 'damn you'. She thinks it's funny.)

The stars are bright and stunning out here, where the light pollution can’t touch them. Jane finds herself reaching for Spock’s hand. She’s surprised when Spock offers two fingers to her - her index and middle - and Jane mimics the movement, unsure of what it means, and they’re touching their fingers together.

“I’m gonna be a Captain someday,” she says, quietly. "Like my dad."

It’s the first time she’s ever said it out loud, and it sounds like a promise she’ll forget to keep. But Spock’s here with her, holding her hand, and she feels calm. Calm in a way she can’t quite explain.

Jane’s sixteen, Spock maybe a bit older, though not much. They spend the night watching the sky as stars and starships dance in the darkness. Jane sneaks back into her house later that evening, after she and Spock both realized they had to go home. She falls asleep quickly, feeling content. For the first time in a long time, she looks forward to waking up.

#genderbend #my post #my fanfiction #twodramanerdsinaboat #love like you #the premise #spirk #femslash #star trek femslash #aos #aos fanfiction #star trek fanfiction #fanfiction #fem!kirk #fem!spock #kirk #spock

[we-want-mini-mini]

Since I have no self restraint, I’m writing another prompt/one shot.

Essentially, normal girl Lia (or some OC) whose a big fan of DC comics and the like ends up in a weird inter dimensional accident and ends up in the DC universe (it can be a mix of canon because fuck canon, up to you).

But, where did Lia end up exactly? Fucking Gotham.

The moment she realizes this is decides: Nope. Nah. Nada. No sir-y. This is NOT happening. Fuck this. I might end dying, or, worse, BECOME A FUCKING MAIN CHARACTER IN THE BAT CLAN. NAH. HELL NO.

Lia decides that, no, she will not involve herself in the Bat Clan/Wayne’s at all. Nope. Nah. Too much drama. Too much angst. Too much fucking skin tight suits and my poor Pan heart can’t TAKE all the HOT, RIPPED hero’s like what the fuck.

Now, this can play out in a variety of ways:

Lia is, say, around the same age as one of the Batboys. It can be any of them, up to you. Now, she some how ends up in Gotham Acdemy and begrudgingly befriends them. Cue angst (especially if its Jason. Considering in canon, if Jason survives he becomes Red Robin thats all I know lmao). If Lia is friends with the second Robin, it’d bring up the deliemma of: does she tell him that he’s gonna fucking die and then come back to life. Oh and, she’s actually from an alternate world were everyone thats like a superhero/vigilante is a fictional character. Honestly, if done well, can definitely stir the feelings of the poor saps who read the moral deliemma of Lia. Now, who is Lia? Someone who doesn’t want to get involved. If she avoids Jason in the beginning, does she have doubts and wants to warn Batman of Jason impending death or not? Like, that sort of shit panic attack inducing. There’s a lot of things you guys can do to torture not only Lia, but also the readers who might be like: “TELL HIM! TELL HIMMMMM!!!” or, “fuck, even I don’t know what I’d do” and etc. There’s a lot of leeway.

They are grown, and are in college (let’s say the events of Death in The Family happened and everything surrounding Red Robin striking out to find Bruce whose lost in time). This Lia is much older, recently graduated from college and currently interns for Wayne Enterprises. See, Lia is just another intern in a global colgomerate cooperation, there’s no way she’d ever run into any of the Wayne’s. None at all. But. But. She does. Some how she becomes the Executive Assistant to Tim (he once saw how she managed an entire fucking department’s schedule even though a group of people spontaneously quit. She was able to somehow salvage that shit in under three hours. And, Tim might or might not have fallen slightly in love with her—). Lia, now, a fresh 20-something year old, is now the Executive Assistant to another 20-something year old who happened to run one of the most rich and powerful companies in the entire world holy shit. Now, we follow the adventures of Lia, whose now one of the most powerful persons in the entire company (and proxy the world, I guess 🤷🏻‍♀️). Lia, let’s say, is a fucking god at manipulating people, making connections, accounting and management, and also a Very Tired Recently Graduate of GU. She, cannot, and will not deal with the constant bullshit that the Bats pull regularly. So, Lia can either passive aggressively hint that, yeah Tim, you definitely got that broken arm from a golf accident. Oh hey, I also heard the Red Robin foughy Killer Croc and also sported a broken left arm like you! What a coincidence, right? And she’d say this with a straight face. Tim knows that she knows, and Lia knows that Tim knows and yeah. Alternatively, she could outright tell him: “look, Tim, I swear to god, if you put off another meeting without a day notice just because some gang member got the better of you.” “Wait, gang member—?” “—do NOT interrupt me. Look, I know Bruce Wayne is Batman. Not the whole, ‘Bruce Wayne and Batman are the same person! The butts match!’ type of thing. I know he is Batman, you Red Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Red Hood is the weirdly alive Jason Todd, etc etc. There’s no point in feigning the fact that I don’t know. Because, I do.” They stare at eachother for a bit, and Tim falls just a little more in love. “How... Actually it’s dumb to ask you how you know, but, how long?” “Good tactic to ask me how long I’ve know instead of how I know. But, to answer your question: I’ve know since I was around...” THE FRAME FREEZES now, should Lia say 8, since, technically, she’s know since she was 8 that Bruce Wayne is Batman, considering the whole parallel universe thing. Or, does she say 18, the age in which she arrived into this world? Now, that decision can prompt many things to happen. For one, if Lia says 8, Tim is gonna be so awestruck and also be dry curious. If 18, Tim is still amazed (that she knows at all). Either answer would also illicit this response: “...you’ve known for so long, yet never told anyone?” Lia shakes her head. “You guys have a secret identity for a reason. Plus, I’m not in the business of becoming a vigilante or whatever. I’ve tried my best to steer clear of all of that, in all honesty.” “Huh. Makes sense. Wait. Then... why did you start working at WE, if you knew our identities?” Lia stares at him like he’s grown three heads. “Dude. This is WE. One of the most powerful companies out there, why wouldn’t I work here? But, the ither fact of the matter is that I didn’t expect to become your fucking Executive Assistant. Like, I couldn’t just deny the offer, my mother would’ve disowned my ass the second she heard I turned down such a prestigious position.” Lia shuddered. “Fuck, I can hear her curse me out in like, five different languages.” Let’s also say, at one point or another, Lia’s mother arrives, and say, is the most terrifying person Tim has ever met (and Tim’s faced off against Ra’s al Ghul, a functionally immortal man with a fucking army of highly trained assassin at his disposal).

Lia is tame honest to god tame compared to her mother (if her mother is like, 5’3”, that’s even more hilarious tbh). Essentially, if Lia’s older and somehow become Executive Assistant to Tim (or Bruce, because, fuck canon) it would be so god damn funny (read “The Executive Assistant To Batman” in which Tim nene became Robin but still knows the identities of the various Gotham vigilantes. Oh, and, he’s the Executive Assistant to Batman. It’s so fucking hilarious and y’all gotta check it out. It’s on AO3).

Number 2, is a lot more light hearted compared to the moral deliemma of Number 1 (as, is Lia is the same age as Robin!Jason, and knows that he’s gonna die, but she also doesn’t want to get involved with the vigilantes presents a very large problem). Number 1 is great for angst and a character study for this OC. Number 2, is a more light hearted, fun scenario (as it avoids the can of worms called “Do I Warn the Bats of Robin!Jasons impending death or not because I honestly don’t want to get involved with the Bat.”.

I, personally, would love to read Number 2 (please make Lia, or whatever OC, a god damn Tired of Your Bullshit, amazing assistant to the CEO of WE, competent af and very, Very Tired of the Bats BS, and, PR is Going To Skin Me Alive and Roast Me Over A Flame). Maybe some drama, angst sprinkled in (there’s the blatant fact that, Lia is a completely different world. One that has superhero’s, aliens, magic and so, so much more. The fact that she’s in her doppelgänger’s body could cause some dissociation/body dysphoria and that sort of stuff. It’s a great opportunity for a character study for Lia/your OC).

Regardless of you choose 1 or 2, the basic premise is:

Some rando kid (or young adult, whichever strikes your fancy) who loves to read Batman/DC in general. Ends up in some weird ass accident that lands them in the DC universe, specifically Gotham. Everything about their pervious life and the life in his world is the same (or not, up to you), only difference is that there’s an alien powered by the Sun and that cannot he injured (unless it’s by a glowing green rock). They decide, pretty early on, that they want nothing to do with the vigilantes of Gotham (which also means they have to avoid the Wayne’s and Co, which should be ways right? Right?? Gotham is really big, I’ll probably only ever see them in passing, I’ll be fine—). But, the universe said, LOL, nope. And they end up befriending the Wayne’s somehow. The rest? Up to you. If they befriend Robin!Jason they have to cope with the moral deliemma of getting involved to save his life or not. Or, maybe this is the world where Dick is still Robin. Do we save Jason early on, or not? What about Tim? Cass? Stephanie? Or, what if, they end up in a world in which Jason died and came back, Bruce came back from being lost in the time stream and Damian is now Robin.

Essentially: OC ends up in the DC universe, specifically Gotham. Decided not to ever get in involved with the Vigilantes/Wayne’s. However, the universe said nope and they become friends with one of the Bats/Waynes regardless. Now, how the fuck do they cope?

BONUS: Lia manages to avoid the Wayne’s/Vigilantes of Gotham completely. How? She ends working for LexCorp. As Lex Luthors Executive Assistant (basically the same way as she became the Executive Assistant to Tim). Now, she has to cope with the fact that she works as the Executive Assistant for Lex fucking Luthor of all people. She can hear her mother shaking her head in Disappointment™️. She hates the universe. Also, Lex Luthor is pretty open about his Evil, Bastard Schemes with Lia for whatever reason (much to Lia’s utter fucking chargin). She discreetly sends info about these Evil, Bastard, Devious plans to the Bats. Cue her realizing that, to ensure Luthor doesn’t suspect her, she’s gotta get GOOD at hacking and computer science. And get good she does. Like, her utter fucking Done-ness over Luthors Supervillain ways and her wanted to never be found out by the Bats is like taken to Infinty in the 10 dial scale. Somehow, she manages to both avoid suspicion from Luthor (cue intense moments in which Luthor is talking to her, and he’s speaking in a weird direct way that makes Lia think he found out and she mentally plans for her subsequent “death” and fleeing of the country and when Luthor finishes his sentences it just him praising her or something else innocuous. Lia felt like the sun was lifted off her shoulders.) She’s always on edge. Her hair is slowly turning grey. Luthor notices and makes a comment and Lia simply laughs while making a underhand comment about how Luthors bald so he doesn’t need to deal with greying hairs. Lia stops laughing realizing oh shit I just insulted my boss in the most underhand way. What ghe fuck. But Luthor just laughs, much to Lia’s relief. Her hair is still greying from the stress. Anyways, she inadvertently becomes a techno vigilante that can rival the famed Oracle (let’s say, for the sake of this prompt, Lia’s code name is Reaper because she was drunk and apparently in the mind of her 13 year old self when she came up with it). Reaper’s name is slowly growing, as Lia does some other stuff with her new found skills in hacking. She mostly helps the Bats by giving them crucial info on Luthors dealings and the like.

One day, she realizes, that, oh shit. I became the one thing swore I’d never become. What type of Shakespearean shit is my life—

If someone does the situation in which Lia/their OC becomes Luthor Executive Assistant and then inadvertently becomes a Vigilante themselves because, sure, they don’t want to get involved, but, fuck Luthor and Eat the Rich. Also, I would love it if said fic included the most stress inducing scenes were it seems like Luthor found out about Lia and the whole Reaper situation but he actually DIDN’T and Lia is here like, sweating god damn bucks while her hair slowly falls out. Please. Write this shit. It would be

✨Immaculate✨

Anyways, hope you like this prompt/one shot because I damn well enjoyed writing it!

#fanfic prompt #oneshot #gotham #batman and robin #batkids #batman #dick grayson #bruce wayne #tim drake #damian wayne #stephenie brown #spoiler #robin!jason #robin!dick #superman #dc universe #funny #angst #fluff #multiverse #dc oc #dc comics #batdad #wayne enterprises #lex corp #lex luthor

[awhitehead17]

Meddling Kids

Dick & Jason, Dick & Tim, Secret Agents AU, Humour, Assassins, Fights, Oblivious Dick, Jason loves bread, Sassy Tim.

Summary: With little information to go on, Dick and Jason are sent on a mission to grab some files before they fall into the wrong hands. It doesn't help that the mysterious persona 'Red Robin', is rumoured to be after the same files. What is clear is that they need to grab those files first.

A/N: This is done for ‘AU: Secret Agents’ on my Batfam Bingo 2019 Card. 

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

“I hate these things.”

“You hate a lot of things.”

“Well... yeah, but these monkey suits are definitely near the top of that list. They’re fucking awful.”

Dick sends Jason a glance as he puts his jacket on. He didn’t mind them as much, yeah they weren’t the comfiest things in the world but they make him look great so he’ll take that as a win. He watches as his brother puts his own jacket on and straightens it out. Dick smirks, “Well you do brush up nicely Jace, doesn’t that matter?”

Jason responds with a glare, “Oh go suck a dick.” 

The two of them go about finishing to get ready for the night ahead of them in their shared apartment. Once they were both done and everything was sorted they exit their home and make their way down to the shiny sleek black limousine waiting for them outside.

They climb in and settle at the back of the car, allowing the trusty driver to take them where they need to be without worry of interruptions.

“So what’s the plan again? And why the hell is the old man making us do this when he could easily do it himself?” Jason questions with annoyance.

Dick sighs before telling him, “To most, we’re going to the charity gala to make up for our adoptive father’s absence as he’s busy in Japan doing business. Then to the odd few, we’re actually going under cover because there are rumours of files being passed around at this very gala. Our mission is to try and infiltrate these files to stop them getting in the wrong hands.”

“Right,” Jason drawls out. “And we don’t know what’s in these files as well as not knowing whom is after them?”

Dick’s reluctant to answer because he’s knows what’s coming, knows what Jason’s reaction is going to be. “No…”

“Fucking unbelievable! This is why I question working with him, he doesn’t even trust us with the information we need to complete the mission! How the fuck are we supposed to do it huh? We don’t know what the files are, who even has the files to start with and who wants the goddamn files!”

Rubbing a hand across his head Dick sighs, “I know Jason, I know, but it is what it is. It’s a do as your told and don’t ask questions situation.”

Jason glares at him, “It’s stupid.”

Dick doesn’t comment again, knowing that his brother is right. Working as secret agents for their adoptive father is a challenge in itself, especially when they all butt heads and have different opinions on the matter. It’s especially challenging when Bruce doesn’t give them any information regarding the mission he’s sent them on, Dick can see why Jason is annoyed, however there isn’t anything he can do about it.

That’s when he remembers something else to do with this mission. “Oh also I heard that there are rumours about Red Robin being at this gala as well, even potentially after the same files we are.”

Jason’s glare turns into a surprised expression. “Oh? That’s great and all but we don’t know who Red Robin is! All we know about Red Robin is that they’ve been bugging both Bruce and Barbara for over two years, Bruce because he can’t work out who it is and Barbara because they constantly hack her network and pass all of her firewalls.”

Dick couldn’t help but snicker because he’s not wrong. This mysterious ‘Red Robin’ character appeared two years ago, at first they were completely paranoid of whoever this is because they appear to have extreme knowledge of technology, they appeared to be a brilliant detective and tactician.

Over time, while they never fully trusted Red Robin, they’ve come to accept them. It seems like they never mean any harm as they never do any damage to their systems or never seem to get up to anything along the lines of evil.

What makes the situation difficult is that they don’t know who ‘Red Robin’ is. Of course they’ve tried to work it out, tried to find out who this detective that can hack into one of the most secured systems on the planet is. That’s where he annoys Bruce, the top agent, Dick’s and Jason’s boss slash adoptive father, because Bruce couldn’t work it out. The man grows more and more frustrated each month and it was hilarious to see.

Red Robin bugs Barbara, who was their top systems and comms person, because she too couldn’t work it out and because Red keeps on getting into her systems and despite everything she tries she can’t seem to get back into theirs.

The fact that Red Robin may be at the gala, in person, was a big matter. The annoying thing was that they just didn’t know who that was so being able to identify them would be tricky.

“Who knows,” Dick starts adjusting his sleeve, “When we get the files we may find out who Red Robin is after all, wouldn’t that be a treat?”

Jason shoots him a look, “Yeah, whoopee-doo. I just want to get this mission out of the way.”

They both fall silent and don’t talk for the rest of the drive. When they finally pull up outside of the charity gala, they’re let out of the limo and put on their best smiles for the reporters surrounding the, being Bruce Wayne's sons certainly gets them a lot of coverage no matter where they are. What the press don’t know, nor will they find out, is that Bruce Wayne is the boss of the biggest secret service in the world.

Dick and Jason make their way up to the building and get into the gala with no issues. Once inside they each grab a glass of champagne that was being passed around and stand together to get an over view of the gala.

Jason leans over closely, whispering into his ear, “So how do you want to play this? Walk around until we find something or someone fishy?”

Dick scans the crowd around them, lots of people varying in ages surround them, all dressed to the nines chatting away with one another like they were having a good time. As his brother pointed out earlier in the car, they have no idea on who was involved with these files that Bruce wants them to obtain. It was going to be a hit or miss kind of situation which sucked but what could they do?

He leans towards Jason, “That’s probably best yeah, scope around see what you can find out and get talking to people. You know what to do.” Jason looks at him and nods once in confirmation. “We’ve got our comms in if anything happens, Babs is on standby if we need her.”

They start to split up then but before his brother could get too far away Dick turns back around, “And Jason, don’t eat all the bread.”

Jason narrows his eyes at him and sticks a middle finger up in response, Dick snickers and spins around to get started on his mission.

Going around and talking to people is easy for Dick, he’s been doing for many years and by now it comes all naturally. Being Bruce Wayne’s son since he was 9 years old has given him plenty of time to practice being nice and friendly to rich snobs and then there’s the added bonus of being involved in the Secret Service since he was 11. He’s had a lot of practice in his life, this part was easy.

He wonders about the gala for an hour talking to a variety of people trying to get a feel of the situation at hand. It wasn’t easy to work out who was going to be involved in the exchange of files that night as they had next to no information on the individuals, but he’s keeping an eye and an ear out for anything.

He was sipping his champagne (which was still the glass he collected when he first came in) when he was suddenly bumped from behind. Tensing up and getting ready to spring into action he spins around and is surprised to see a familiar teenager who looks guilty. Upon recognising him Dick grins, “Timmy! How’s it going buddy?”

“Oh hey Dick, sorry I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

Dick wraps an arm around the teenager’s shoulders and pulls him into a side hug. Dick’s known Tim since he was a kid, he was their neighbour and Dick often babysat him when the kid’s parents went away (which was a lot) so he’s become like a second younger brother. They all adore him, he’s pretty sure that if Tim didn’t have parents Bruce would adopt him with no hesitation.

He looks at the teenager, seeing him dressed in a navy tux that makes him look like a baby CEO and was holding a glass of what looked like soda. “What you doing here then? Are your parents back from their latest trip?”

Tim shrugs and glances around the room before looking up at him, “No they’re not back, but they requested that I make an appearance for their name sake. They would be annoyed if they find out I didn’t show up.”

Dick frowns at that, it sounds so sad that Tim has to do things like this just to try and please his parents to get their approval. He knows Tim’s had a hard upbringing and it makes him go soft for the kid. He gives him a squeeze, “Well give it another hour then make disappear.”

He feels Tim tense against him, clearly not liking the idea of leaving early. “I guess I could.” He says tightly. Dick doesn’t comment on it, choosing to let it go because it’s clear Tim doesn’t want to talk about it. He lets his arm drop from around him, “Did you know Jason’s here too. Have you seen him?”

Tim nods, smiling slightly, “Yeah I’ve seen him. He was at the food table eating bread rolls when I went over to grab a snack.”

“Of course he was,” Dick sighs. He hears Tim laugh at that, the kid knowing exactly what the other man was like. Jason and Tim have an odd relationship, at first Jason couldn’t stand him, absolutely hating his guts but then over time he seemed to have gotten used to the kid and even became protective of him. It was oddly sweet.

The only problem with having Tim around however was that Tim didn’t know about the Secret Service. They all would love to have him on board, he was crazy smart, talented, really deductive but the underlying problem was his parents. They didn’t fully know what Tim’s relationship with his parents were like, they know only what Tim wants them to know. Of course they have their suspicions but that can only take them so far.

As Dick opens his mouth to say something else to Tim, Jason’s voice buzzes in his ear. “Bingo, I found the first of our unknown associates. Just walked in through the door and of fucking course, we really should have guessed who it was.”

Dick doesn’t respond despite how much he wanted to. It’s great that Jason’s found the first one but what did he mean by they should have known? Who was it? He clears his thoughts and look down at Tim who was glancing around the gala, he feels bad but he does have a job to do at the end of the day.

He pokes the kid’s shoulder lightly to get his attention, two blue eyes stare up at him and Dick gives him an easy smile, “I gotta go as there’s someone I need to talk to because Bruce asked me to, how about we meet up some time soon, just you, me and Jay? We could go to the skate park or something?”

Tim stiffly nods, frowning slightly as he does so, “Uh sure. Sounds great.”

Dick reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, “Great, I’ll message you soon okay.”

He leaves Tim standing there as he starts making his way through the crows towards the door where Jason had said he saw the first unknown associate. Dick gets near the entrance and looks around, after turning in full circles like four times he frowns and finally responds back to Jason, “Do you still have eyes on them? I can’t see them.”

It takes a few moments but soon enough his brother’s voice was in his ear, though sounding a bit muffled like he was eating. “Yeah I can see them, they’re at your six talking to Miss Anderson, the lady in the horrid green dress.”

Dick turns around and freezes when he sees who Jason had been on about. There he was, talking to the elderly lady with a fake smile plastered on his, was none other than Lex Luthor. Dick sighs, “You’re kidding me? What is he up too now?”

“Beats me. Though I certainly wouldn’t mind throwing a punch or two at the guy after last time.”

Pinching his nose, Dick lets out a long breath, Jason wasn’t helping matters here. While he can agree with his brother’s desire to punch the man he knows it doesn’t work like that. “Right,” he says trying to get them back on track, “Just because he’s here doesn’t mean he’s involved, while it’s very likely that he is, we can’t be certain. Keep an eye out for the potential second.”

He moves away before he gets caught staring, as he moves swiftly through the crowd occasionally chatting to rich folk, he keeps an eye on Luthor at all times.

“Where are you?” Dick asks after a long period of time, despite going around the floor three times he hadn’t bumped into Jason once. It made him wonder where his brother was and what he was up to. It didn’t help that he’s also been very quiet.

“Up above. Figured it was an easy vantage point, plus I’m not surrounded by a load of rich snobs who are stuck way too far up their own asses.”

Dick glances up, looking for him, after a couple seconds he finds Jason leaning over the railing with a glass of champagne in his hand. Jason sees him looking and offers a little wave. Dick rolls his eyes and goes back to what he was doing.

It was another 15 minutes until the second person they were looking for comes into the room at long last. Dick curses under his breath once he sees him. “Found associate number two, or at least who is a suspect.”

Who Dick was watching comes strolling into the room looking like he owns the world. In his long green and gold robes that trail behind him, his head and chin turned up at everyone as he wonders into the room with no cares of the world. It was none other than Ra’s Al Ghul.

“What a fucking coincidence.” Jason’s comment obviously means he’s seeing Ra’s too.

Dick turns away before the man could see him, moving through the crowd to get out of eye sight. “What’s the chances? Two huge names coming to a puny charity gala. Something’s up.”

“Who do you think has the file? Luthor giving it Al Ghul or the other way around?”

“I have no idea. For now just keep an eye on them, I’ll watch Ra’s while you watch Luthor, if one makes a move instantly report.”

“Gotcha.”

Dick keeps an eye out for anyone else who could be a suspect but he never lets Al Ghul out of his sight. The man walks around and talk with people like he belongs there, but Dick knows better, knows that he really doesn’t belong there. To majority of the world Al Ghul was a kind man who often gives to charity and helps those in need. To Dick and a few others he was a criminal master mind, the head of an entire empire full of assassins ready to kill.

The fact he and Luthor were here at the same time was no coincidence. Both were bad men, both were always up to no good, both only doing things for their own benefits and no one else’s.

About half an hour later, Dick spies on Ra’s as he excuses himself from a conversation with a small group of elite Gothamites. The man heads out of the room heading in the direction where the toilets were. A good cover really but Dick knows better. After radioing Jason a quick message, he follows the man several feet behind, making sure to keep him insight.

As expected Ra’s goes straight past the toilets and down the corridor before turning around the corner. Dick continues to pursue him, following the man as he travels up some steps to the next level and as he travels down another corridor. Not once does he stop moving and not once does he look over his shoulder. Dick probably could guess that Ra’s knew he was being followed and was allowing it to happen, which meant nothing good for Dick but he continues forward because he needs to.

As he follows behind him, he gets a message from Jason saying how Luthor was now on the move. After that it becomes much clearer that it was these two they were after.

Ra’s keeps going until he gets to the end of the corridor and stops in front of a door. With precise movements he opens it up and steps inside the room. Dick waits a few moments before creeping forward, he plasters himself against the wall and peers into the room to find Ra’s standing there in the middle of it with his back against the door.

The room was an old fashioned study. A wooden desk with elegant patterns engraved in it was one side of the room which was placed in front of a wooden door, large open windows were opposite it, two single velvet love seats sit in the other corner of the room.

Dick sneaks inside the room as quickly and as quietly as he can and slips behind the desk and the chair parked at it. He stays in a crouch and listens intently as he watches Ra’s stand there in the middle of the room.

“I know you’re here agent. You may as well come out. It can’t do you any good being crouched like that for a long time.”

Dick curses and debates what to do. When he glances up he sees Ra’s looking in his direction despite the chair and desk hiding him. Knowing that he’s lost he stands up, squaring his shoulders and gets ready for anything. A man like Ra’s doesn’t travel alone.

“Ra’s.” Dick says coldly. This isn’t his first interaction with the man, he’s far from wanting to be polite with manners.

“I give you credit agent, for following me as you did, for waiting as long as you did but unfortunately it wasn’t enough.” He mocks Dick with an almost sneer.

“If anyone was to know what patience is all about, it would be me.” Dick comments. “Why are you here Ra’s? What’s your goal?”

The man doesn’t seem surprised at the change in subject. He stares at Dick with a cold calculating look. “You should leave the interrogation to your father Grayson. He’s much better at it than you.”

Dick scowls at the jab but doesn’t comment.

“You say you have patience, why don’t you wait and find out what I’m here for. You’ll be lovely company.”

As the words leave his mouth the door behind the desk bursts open. The action startles him and he gets into a defensive position as four assassins pour into the door. The first one launches himself at Dick and he finds himself dodging and throwing punches. The second joins in and Dick fights him off as well.

It becomes a battle of four against one and he holds his ground well. He gets the first one on the floor who doesn’t get back up. The second one gets knocks down but slowly rises back up. Unfortunately that’s where his luck ends. A well-aimed punch to the stomach winds him and he instinctively hunches over, allowing an opening for a kick to the head which knocks him down to the floor. Before he could get his bearings they were on his back and tying his hands together, he’s thoroughly tied and pinned down by the time he gets his head together.

He grunts and squirms trying to get free but his efforts are futile and he quickly gives up. He cranes his neck up and glares at Ra’s, who was watching him with a sinister smile, having clearly enjoyed their scuffle. The bastard.

Nothing was said between them and it stays silent for several minutes until commotion outside the room could be heard. Dick twists around in his binds to glance at the door. His eyes widen as he sees Jason being pushed through. His brother stumbles in before he’s forced down to his knees next to Dick by another assassin.

They share a look surprise and anger when they make eye contact. Not only had Dick been caught but Jason too. Great. This mission is going so well. When they get out of this Bruce is going to give them such a lashing for this mess, it’s not going to be pretty.

After Jason’s down on his knees another figure walks in. Crisp in an expensive, tailored suit was Lex Luthor. He casts them a disgusted look before turning his attention on Ra’s.

“Nothing was ever mentioned about the extra company Al Ghul.” He scowls. “I don’t appreciate being watched and then stalked.”

“Them being here was not my doing. I had no control over it, however as you can see, I planned ahead and figured something like this would happen. It’s been sorted.”

“You call this sorted?” Luthor walks around them, looking down scornfully, “Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, the Wayne brats. I do have to admit, what an unwelcomed surprise.”

“As if this is what I want to be doing on my Friday evening.” Jason snorts glaring at the men above them. “You’re not that special Luthor.”

Luthor stops in his tracks and looks at Jason pointedly, “And yet here we are.” He turns back to ra’s. “Enough games, I want what we discussed and then I can be gone. There’s only so much pretending I can do a night.”

As Ra’s gestures to one of his assassins still in the room, Dick squirms around on the floor until he’s sat up next to Jason. The two of them share a look, trying to work out how to get out of this mess. They can’t let Luthor leave with those files, who knows what kind of damage the man could do with them.

Jason sends him a look which Dick can interpret, it’s his brother’s look of, ‘I have a plan’. While Dick adores his brother, and he really does, Jason’s plans aren’t always the best so seeing that look does nothing to help ease his mind of their current situation.

Above them, Ra’s passes over an A4 envelope to Luthor who instantly snatches it from the man’s hand and holds it tightly. They watch as he opens it up, scans the contents on the inside before nodding approvingly. “Good. That means our business here is done.”

“A pleasure as always Luthor.”

“Hardly. Now I must be going.”

Luthor turns and starts heading towards the door but not before scowling down at the agents on the floor, “What ever you do, make sure you dispose of these thoroughly, wouldn’t want them meddling once again.” Then like that he walks out of the room.

As the man disappears from view, Dick shoots Jason an alarmed look but his brother wasn’t paying him any attention. His gaze was on the man still in front of them.

“So many ways I want to get rid of you. Both talented in your own ways but stubborn and too drastic for my liking. A shame really, I could do with people of your abilities.”

“How about I narrow down your options?” Jason comments glaring at him.

Dick raises an eyebrow in question just as Ra’s eyes him up. “Oh, what’s that then?”

A snapping sound could be heard and then Jason was suddenly springing up and launches himself against Ra’s, “This.”

Dick didn’t get the chance to be surprised by Jason’s actions or as he takes on the assassins in the room by himself because he notices a knife lying where Jason had been. Using the opportunity while everyone else was busy with Jason, Dick awkwardly shuffles along to grab the knife to cut himself free as quickly as he can.

To Jason’s credit he holds them off for a long time. Once free Dick joins in on the action, making the playing field more even. While they were both excellent fighters individually, together they become almost unstoppable. Jason’s surprise attack of course giving them the advantage they needed at the beginning.

They take out all of the ninjas and once it was just them and Ra’s left standing.

“Go find and track down Luthor.” Jason tells him getting into a defensive position against Ra’s. “I can handle him.”

When Dick doesn’t move, his brother shoots him a sharp look, “Go. I can handle it. We can’t let Luthor get away with those files.”

Dick looks between them before nodding. He was reluctant to leave Jason alone but he knew that he was right. Those files were important somehow and he couldn’t let them get away.

He runs out of the room and head back the way he came. Dick has no idea how far Luthor would have gotten by now but hopefully it wasn’t too far or else he’s going to need a way to track him. A back up would be to contact Babs, who was tech savvy and could track the man for him if it came down to it.

Dick runs down the corridor and turns the corner before continuing to run. It was as he was getting to the end that he hears familiar voices talking from around the bend. He slows down to a stop and takes a moment to listen in.

“Move out the way boy.”

“No can do Mister Luthor.”

“I am not someone you want to get on your bad side.”

“That's questionable, but I wasn’t planning on it. The only thing I want is those files.”

“I have no idea what you’re on about. You may have mistaken me for someone else.”

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t.”

“Move out of my way.”

“Afraid I can’t do that. I can’t let you go, not until I have those files.”

There’s a moment of silence between them and Dick works on not letting out any sounds at his surprise. One of the voices is Luthor’s, that’s just clear and obvious at this point. Thankfully he hadn’t gotten very far.

However that second voice Dick knew without looking. It was Tim. That was Tim’s voice and he was standing up against Luthor asking for the very files he needs to get. But how did Timmy know about the files? Why would he want the files in the first place?

“Mister Luthor, I’m giving you two options here, either you give me those files by choice and we can part ways like nothing ever happened. Or, I forcefully remove them from you and without your body guard here to help protect you, well odds aren’t exactly in your favour.”

There’s another pause and Dick finally peers around the corner to find Luthor and Tim at odds with one another. Luthor’s back was to him and he could just make out Tim’s frame beyond the man. The scene was almost comical, Tim’s tiny size compared to Luthor’s tall frame was such a contradiction, it would make anyone wonder what damage Tim could do to someone.

Dick was so confused to why Tim was standing against Luthor in the first place. What was that kid even thinking? He could get hurt!

“Oh?” Luthor’s tone was mocking, “And what is a kid like you going to do to a full grown man like me?”

“I know I may not look like much but trust me I can cause havoc when I need too. It also doesn’t help that you don’t recognise me when I’m not in front of the computer screen.”

A few beats go by as Tim’s words hang in the air. Dick could pick up the double meaning in his words but he couldn’t work out exactly what the teenager was on about. Apparently Luthor had a bit of trouble working it out also but he still got it before Dick did, “Red Robin. You’re the Red Robin.”

“The one and only.”

And wasn’t that a punch to the gut. Dick felt almost breathless. Timmy, Tiny Tim, his little brother, their next door neighbour, was the one thing that none of them could work out. Timmy was the one causing mayhem in their lives. How? How was that possible. Why?

Dick shook his head trying to get back on the scene at hand, trying to get over the fact that Tim was Red Robin and how he didn’t know about it.

“Enough games.” Luthor growls. He reaches behind him and Dick watches wide eyed as he brings out a gun and points it at Tim. “I don’t know what kind of kid you are, but I have no qualms about killing kids, especially those who are too nosey for their own good.”

He may not have a problem with it but Dick certainly does. That action alone was enough to get him to finally engage with the fight. He creeps out from around the corner and sneaks up on Luthor. Before the man could even blink Dick disarms him, without the gun going off, and subdues him so he’s on the ground in hand cuffs.

With a jab to the neck Dick knocks him unconscious before patting him down searching for the files. He finds the envelope tucked away in a secret jacket pocket. He grins happily, finally having them in his hand.

Now that was done, there was something else he needed to address. He turns around expectantly and blinks in surprise when he finds the area empty. He frowns as he looks around, looking for the kid that was there moments ago. He lets out an annoyed sigh, giving into the fact that Tim had pulled a disappearing act on him, which, fair enough but at the same time was rude.

There were so many questions Dick had for him. He wants to know how Tim became Red Robin, why he became that persona, does he know who they all are, what were the reasons behind his actions, why hasn’t he said anything before.

So many questions and so many explanations.

Dick doesn’t get the chance to think about it any further because he could hear footsteps coming from behind him. He tenses up, getting ready for a fight before he realises who it is as they turn the corner. It’s only Jason.

He holds the file up with a triumphant smile, “Got the files. Ra’s dealt with?”

His brother has a black eye forming, a nasty gash on his forehead and parts of his suit were ripped, but apart from that he looked relatively okay.

“He got away, called a retreat and I was over powered. But that’s not particularly important. You got the file that’s what matters. B will be happy at least.”

Dick hums and looks down at Luthor’s unconscious form. “I’ll let the police handle this, for now lets get heading back, B will want these files.”

After making an anonymous call to the PD, the two of them start heading towards the back exit of the gala. The last thing they need is someone questioning Jason’s new appearance.

“Did you ever see Red Robin, he was supposed to show right? I didn’t notice anyone who could be him at all.”

Dick goes stiff at the mention of the persona. He hadn’t wanted to talk about that just yet, not until he got the answers he needed. To his annoyance, his stiffness doesn’t go unnoticed by Jason. His brother reaches out and grabs his arm to stop him from walking. “Dick. You saw him, didn’t you? You know who it is?”

Dick swallows and looks away. Should he give Tim up? What if he was wrong about this and it was all a big understanding?

Jason’s grip on his arm tightens. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You don’t have to tell B but you need to at least tell me.”

Dick takes a deep breath and lets it out, he looks at Jason. “It’s Tim. Tim is Red Robin.”

Several moments go by and all Jason was doing was blinking at him. He then lets out an obnoxious laugh like Dick had just told the world’s best joke. “Yeah okay Dickie bird, good one. Tim, Tiny Tim, the little baby bird, as Red Robin. That’s gold.”

Dick wasn’t laughing. He glares at his brother until he sobers up. “I’m not joking. I saw and heard him talking to Luthor, he revealed himself and claimed to wanting these files. Luthor then drew a gun on him and of course I wasn’t about to let that happen so I got involved but by the time I went to talk to him he was gone.”

His brother blinks at him again, “You’re not joking. You seriously think Tim is Red Robin, the exact thing causing both B and Babs ulcers because they can’t work out who it is.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Dicks says softening his expression. “I honestly don’t believe it myself but I want to get answers before taking this any more forward. I said to him that we’ll meet up soon, I plan on interrogating him then about it.”

“So we’re keeping this just between us.”

“For now yes.”

“Bruce will be pissed at us for keeping that information from him.”

“I don’t care. I want to get the facts correct before proceeding this further. Anyway, these mysterious files should keep him busy long enough for us to work it out before he catches on.”

“Alright, if this all goes down hill and then I’m blaming you.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it Dickhead, I ain’t taking the blame for your crappy decisions.”

“Whatever Jason.”

“So now what?”

Dick grins at him, “Now we have a little birdie to catch.”

#dick grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #lex luthor #Ras Al Ghul #Secret Agents AU #batfam bingo 2019 #fanfiction #humour #assassins #fights #sassy tim #oblivious dick #Jason loves bread

[the-sanders-sides]

Stereotypical High School Movie AU

a/n: Hey! So, I’ve been writing this fic on and off for almost two years now and I never really posted it on tumblr and mostly kept it on ao3, so I thought I’d do one big compilation post of the fic so far, so here it is! ps. the writing is kinda bad in the beginning but i promise it gets better later on

word count:  17275 chapters: 20 out of 30-ish ao3 link

Tags/Warnings: Endgame Prinxiety | Patton | Virgil | Logan | Roman | Deceit | Bullying | Angst | Panic Attack | Slow Burn | Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers | Fist Fights | Teacher Patton | LGBT Themes | Coming Out | Being Outed | Neophobia

Chapter 1

Virgil threw his alarm clock across the room, because the snooze button was just not working. He buried himself back underneath his dark blankets. But the damn thing would not shut up. What the hell did Logan do to it now? He tried to ignore the noise, but it kept gettING LOUDER. With an annoyed groan, Virgil got out of bed, picked up the red clock, and was about to chuck it out the window, until he saw Logan walk up to the door of his house.  

Virgil sighed as put on some random clothes, and headed down to open the door for Logan. “What the hell did you do my freaking alarm clock?!” Virgil was seething.

“Well, we have about twenty minutes until school starts, and it’s a five minute walk. And see I want to learn, but there is no way I’m going there without someone else who is also able to think and not be a complete dolt. So I reprogrammed your alarm to wake you up at the time where you can get the most sleep and still be ready,” Logan stated flatly, “Now go brush your teeth and put on some deodorant, you smell atrocious.”

“I feel atrocious. You know I was planning to just skip today, since my dad is out of town on business and I’m home alone, but I guess not.” Virgil replied.

“Anx c’mon, it’ll only be worse if you don’t show up. You’ll have a ton of work to catch up on, and people are going to be more callous when you do finally show up.” Logan pleaded.

“Ugh fine, you win.” And with that Virgil trudged away and finished getting ready, and left to walk to school with his only, and relatively new, friend.  On their daily walk to hell that started a few months ago, it was well established how much Virgil hated school and how much Logan hated the people at their school. Both of which, would be proved as soon as they walked in.

“Hey you fucking nerd!” someone yelled as Logan was slammed into the lockers. Logan sighed and kept walking on. “Hey, you fucking pansy, not gonna do anything, too afraid to fight?” And to this Logan squared his shoulders and looked in the eye of the other and flatly said, “You know, you really shouldn’t mess with ‘nerds’.  I hacked into the school wifi, found your IP address, and let’s just say your computer will not be functioning the way you want it to anymore. I don’t take shit from anyone, and I don’t fight in ways I know I can’t win, because unlike you I’m smart.”

The bully started cracking his knuckles, “Oh you are so gonna get it.” Virgil pushed Logan out of the way and rolled up his sleeves. “He might not be able to fight, but I can. This is my ‘fuck you, asshole’ for everything.”

The bully scoffed, “That’s funny, you actually think you can beat me pipsqueak.” Virgil, unable to reach the taller one’s face, punched him hard in the gut, and immediately threw his hands back up into defense. He had his stance wide and was bouncing on his toes to keep the movement flowing. He was so glad Logan showed him all those taekwondo videos so he could finally get some payback. Anxiety used his left hand to block a punch from the other and retaliated with a rising kick. Anxiety decked the bully in the face with Anxiety’s foot. Anxiety spoke, “You’re insults used to be good. Now they’re nothing more than lines taken from the stereotypical anti-bullying videos they show us in assemblies.” Anxiety made to walk away and high-five Logan, when he was picked up and slammed into the floor like a rag doll. All Anxiety thought during that moment was that he really needed to eat more.  Virgil started to feel dizzy. He was seeing double and his hearing was foggy. Well shit, I’m definitely passing out and now this guy is going to beat Logan to a pulp. I need to be… I need to be… Virgil's eyes shut and he was unconscious.

In the blur of what just happened, Logan was on the floor next to Virgil checking for a pulse. He saw someone in red and white clothing pull a teacher out of a classroom. He was searching for the pulse, he was placing his hand on Virgil's wrist, on his neck, but his hands were shaking too much. Logan felt himself get pulled aside by a teacher in a blue shirt. He heard a stern, “Go to the principal’s office NOW,” as the blue clad teacher pointed in a direction, probably to a person. Logan noticed how hard he was breathing, how he couldn’t seem to keep up with everything going on around himself. He knew during the fight, some people had circled around them, but now everyone was in chaos. He looked to floor for Anxiety’s body and couldn’t find him. Where is he? Where is he? Logan was looking everywhere through the hall. I never should have encouraged him to learn how to fight. This is on me now…. There he is! The teacher in blue was carrying Virgil somewhere. Logan followed. He walked only a short distance through the halls, but it seemed to last a millennia. The teacher stopped at the nurse’s office. Logan walked inside, and was… being guided to one of the sick beds? Wait, what are they doing? He whispered, “I’m fine… Ta..ke care of Anx…He needs it..” Logan’s breathing was worse. Someone was in front of him and said something, but he wasn’t sure what. He asked where Virgil was and whoever this blue teacher was entered his vision and pointed to a bed next to Logan. Oh thank goodness, Virgil's safe. Finally knowing that his friend was in good hands, Logan collapsed and fell asleep, as his body was too exhausted after the panic attack to keep him awake.

Chapter 2

Virgil opened his eyes and the world was a blur. His head throbbed and his body ached. He rubbed his eyes and the world got clearer. He noticed the blue beds of the nurse’s office. I wonder who…took me here… I hope… Log- Virgil immediately sat up and said, “Where’s Logan? Is he alright?” Someone who Virgil assumed was the nurse rushed into the room. “Oh good, you’re awake. Your friend is okay, we sent him home for the day.”

This alarmed Virgil. “What happened to Logan!? What did those punks do to him??”

“Sweetie, relax. He’s fine now. He had a panic attack earlier. How are you feeling? You will need to go to a doctor to check if you are concussed. I’ll call your parent or guardian to pick you up and take you there.”

“My dad is out of town. I’ll get a taxi or have a friend drive me there.” Like hell I’m going to the hospital. Dad’s never gonna find out about this, if he does, then boy am I in trouble, and there’s no way we can afford the hospital bills either. I’ll just… get Logan to check it out. He’ll know what to do.

The nurse looked nervous about this, but agreed nonetheless, “Okay, well before you go, you might want to clean up in the bathroom.”

Virgil followed her instruction, only because of the close watch she was keeping on him, and walked into the bathroom. He looked at his face and saw he had a split lip. As he moved forward to look closer at himself in the mirror, his body hurt with every slight motion to complete the movement. Virgil lifted up his jacket and his shirt and saw his skin in various shades of gruesome. Black and blue splotches were pounded into his torso, and he assumed the rest of his body was that way too. Damn, that suplex was powerful. These bruises are going to be so annoying. Virgil leant over the sink to examine his face more carefully. Seeing as nothing else was wrong he fixed his hair and splashed water on his face. “You can do this,” Virgil pointed at himself in the mirror and kept speaking, “Endure the pain and go to Logan’s house. Then, never go to school again.” As Virgil exited the bathroom of the nurse’s office he said, under his breath, “Ugh, who the hell am I kidding, I’m probably gonna be way too anxious about trying to skip anyway. Dad would murder me if the school called, even if I forged his voice in a call to school. I’m glad Logan got me out of that situation this morning.” As he left the nurse’s office, Virgil saw that the halls were mostly deserted except for those who had free periods.

Roman had a free period, so he walked to where his ‘friends’ and he eat lunch. Goodness, he hated those ‘friends’. But he couldn’t get away from them. Roman was the star of the school, as many adults liked to say in their I-am-talking-to-a-teenager-so-it-is-time-to-be-condescending voice.  Roman seemed to have a shining self-confidence, as it looked as though he accepted his flaws. He had good grades. He would star in the school play every year, and after a friend pushing him in ninth grade even though he detested sports back then, he joined the track and field team and he shattered records.  He found he really liked running too. So people began to flock to him near the end of ninth grade, as he became more known throughout the school. But people didn’t care to like him for him. The people just wanted a false confidence built from the idea of popularity that would somehow come from being Roman’s friend. As much as he tried to get away from those people, he couldn’t. This led to him losing some good friends, for his new ‘friends’ would push the old ones away no matter what Roman would say, because all of the ‘friends’ were total dicks and bullies.

Roman sighed as reminisced, goodness he hated the people around him. And as much as Roman tried to be a good person, he was afraid of standing up for himself and others to his ‘friends’. And he was damn ashamed of that. As his thoughts ended, he reached his ‘friends’ at the first hallway after the entrance to the school and put on a façade of security and nonchalance.

It took Virgil a while to reach the front of the school. He was currently nearing the first hallway after the entrance to the school when he heard a conversation that made him stop and listen. He heard some voices he thought he recognized as the bullies (also known to Virgil and Logan as roaches) and peered around the corner to see them talking in the hallway. Virgil turned back around and was going to exit the school another way as to avoid those roaches when he heard the worst roach, Roman, talk.

“Oh, I only told Mr. Patton there was a fight happening so only the ones actually fighting would get in trouble, and we wouldn’t for being bystanders or whatever. Damage control.”

VIrgil was seething with rage. He hated Roman. He despised Roman. He could never forgive Roman. Virgil wanted to step on and crush that roach the most.

Chapter 3

To avoid the roaches and not get beat up some more, Virgil promptly turned on his heel and walked all the way across the school to the back exit. Once he left the school, he walked to Logan’s house. Virgil didn’t even bother knocking on the front door, he just walked around to the side of the house where a window to Logan’s room was located and climbed into the room through the window. Logan had been sitting at a desk and was typing code, occasionally pausing to write things down when he couldn’t figure out what to type next. Virgil stood behind where Logan was seated with his eyes downcast for a couple minutes. After realizing Logan was too immersed in what he was doing to have noticed Virgil's presence, Virgil walked up to Logan, put a hand on his shoulder, and spoke.

“Hey, whatcha typing?”

“Holy shit!” Logan jumped up from his seat, clearly startled, “Warn me next time! Oh my god…” Virgil grinned.

“Would ya look at that? You’re picking up some words from me.” Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil, feigning shock, declared: “The prim Logan, swearing? I am appalled young man.”

“Anyway, what are you typing?”

“Remember this morning how I said I hacked into that roach’s laptop earlier today? I never actually did that, so after I was kicked out of the nurse’s office because apparently, I was ‘crowding you’ and that ‘wouldn’t help you’, which makes no sense, I hacked into the school’s wifi to get the roach’s IP address, and now I’m just double checking my code for sending a porn virus to his laptop.” Virgil high-fived Logan.

“Firstly, you’re amazing and now you’re my hero for going through with that. Secondly, how are you? Are you alright? I heard you had a panic attack.”

“I’m fine now. I should be the one asking you if you’re okay.”

“I’m… I dunno if I'm alright. I might be concussed,” Virgil said nonchalantly.

“Anxiety! You’ve got to go to a doctor or go to the hospital!”

“Well, you’re basically a doctor with all the medical stuff you know, so give me a diagnosis.” Logan glared at Virgil, but decided that Virgil getting help from Logan was better than Virgil not getting any help at all, so Logan went along with it. Logan asked Virgil some questions and Virgil mentioned his headache. Logan eventually decided that Virgil was okay, but told Virgil to not try and fight for a week or two. That was also Logan’s way of protecting Virgil, for Logan felt immensely guilty after Virgil got hurt because it was originally Logan’s idea for Virgil to learn to fight. Logan sent his hack to the roach’s computer, and Virgil flopped on Logan’s bed.

“Roman’s an ass,” Virgil said in a defeated tone.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to see a roach ever again,” Virgil suddenly sat up, “Logan, how can I stomp out the roaches?”

“Well, you would need a giant shoe filled with weights to fall on them.” Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Hey, that’s actually a good idea! We should totally do it!”

“That would kill them.”

“You need to learn what sarcasm means. And what figures of speech are. Stop taking me literally all the time. You know what I meant.” Now it was Logan’s turn to roll his eyes, but he nevertheless gave Virgil the answer that he was looking for.

“Well, if we want to ‘stomp on the roaches’ we have to make them lose the power they have over us and others. People don’t want to get hurt by the roaches so they uncomfortably watch as anyone who dares to get in their way gets pummeled and humiliated. We need to dismantle that fear. We also need to give them some payback. Preferably, anonymous payback, so we don’t get suspended or expelled.”

“You know I’m down for this, but what’s your reason for doing the payback? It doesn’t exactly have a… point in the plan, and if I know you, you don’t do things without a reason.” Logan smirked.

“Oh… it’s just for fun.”

Chapter 4

“So, there are 4 roaches. The big, buff one that suplexed you got suspended so we don’t have to worry about him,” Logan said as he grabbed a notebook and pen, and titled the page ‘Roaches’. “So I don’t know too much about them, except for Roman. All I know about the other roaches is what they look like and that they’re garbage. Considering you were in middle school with these dunderheads, you have got to have some knowledge about things they do that are reputation ruining, right?”

Virgil responded with a grin, “Hell yeah I do.  So Charlotte, ya know the girl with the long black hair and dark skin, I’m pretty sure her record is 4 boyfriends and 2 girlfriends a single month. She keeps her relationship on the down low, because her parent would kill her if they found out. ‘specially since she’s too busy making out with them and skipping class to work. So she end up threatening people for their homework and notes before class. I walked in on her kissing Rashmi, and she broke up with her right then and there. Rashmi was sobbing. It was awful. And then Charlotte tried to kiss me so I wouldn’t say anything about it.”

“What did you do?” Logan asked quietly, as he rushed to write what Virgil said.

“Oh, I grabbed Rashmi and ran away with her. She hugged me as she cried and ended up telling me about the romantic escapades of Charlotte. Charlotte’s a real bitch. Apparently right before I walked in, Rashmi was confronting Charlotte of whether or not the relationship meant anything to Charlotte since Rashmi had just found out about all the quick heartbreaks Charlotte caused. This happened last April so I don’t know if Charlotte still does this, but it’s something we could use against her.”

“And the last one is Wynne. They’re the manipulative little piece of shit that has the worst self-esteem I’ve ever seen,” Virgil saw Logan raise his eyebrows, “Yeah, even worse than mine. So you know what they do? They’re kinda like Regina George. They whisper snide comments about people, just in their range of hearing.” Virgil started to get more and more heated up about Wynne. His hatred for this person was making him breathe heavier, talk faster, and well tears. “They give people ‘cute’ nicknames and false compliments and laugh about it later in their face. Wynne is the asshat that drove my only friend away from me and-”

A tear slid down Virgil’s cheek. His hands were balled in fists and his knuckles were turning white. Logan dropped the notebook and brought Virgil into a very awkward hug.

“I know I’m not the best at the whole comforting thing, but is this good?”

Virgil weakly chuckled. “Yeah it’s great,” Virgil moved away from Logan and looked him in the eye, “All that stuff with Wynne and Roman, it’s in the past. I… have you now, right?

“Yes, you do. And there is no way I’m ever going to be turned into a roach like him.”

Chapter 5

The next day Logan and Virgil walked confidently to school, as both knew the first part of the plan was going to be starting. However, when they walked through the double doors of the school, Virgil’s confidence dissipated quickly, and Logan’s faltered. All eyes had turned to them. Many looked shocked, and some looked sympathetic. The two were confused until they heard yelling coming from down the hallway.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that fucking nerd Logan was stupid enough to try and send a porn virus to your computer? How was I even supposed to stop him? Beat him up some more with Mr. Patton right there in front of me? You’re such an idiot, Nurul!”

The yelling paused. Virgil and Logan looked at each other in recognition of what was happening. The voice, which sounded like Wynne’s, was talking to Nurul, who apparently was the big, beefy guy who beat up Virgil, on the phone. Logan spoke in disbelief, “The porn virus… worked!” Virgil nodded enthusiastically.

“Listen, Nurul. It’s not my fault you have some insane urge to pick a fight with those bastards every time you see them! You know what just stay the hell away from me, from us actually, if you’re going to be like this and blame your mistakes on me!”

There was another pause before Wynne started yelling again. “Yeah, thank your parents for me for taking your phone away. I don’t think I could take another second of you. I can’t wait to see you next week. You’ll have an incredibly warm welcome. Goodbye.”

Wynne tapped end call and roughly shoved their phone into their pocket. Once they saw everyone looking at them, they gruffly yelled, “What the hell are all of you staring at? Do you want me to destroy you? HUH? DO YOU?”

Just then, Mr. Patton walked by and overheard the outburst. “Wynne Ellis. How could you speak to your peers in such a manner? Detention. After school.” Wynne gave a grunt of acknowledgement, and frustratedly stormed off.

Virgil burst into laughter. He doubled over and was clutching his stomach. Logan laughed a little bit too and said, “Virgil, I wasn’t even sure if the porn virus and the suspension would be enough to deal with Nurul! Oh my goodness, this worked out so much better than I thought!”

Virgil responded, barely able to breathe from his laughter, “Lo- Logan, you’re g- genius! We do- don’t hav’ta pput him in the pplan! Holy crap. I- I don’t thi- think I’ve laughed tthis hard in ages!”

The two stayed laughing like that in the hallway until the first bell rang. They didn’t care if anyone looked at them weirdly or sent a snide remark to them. They didn’t care about the repercussions of their actions. Right now, they were happy.

Chapter 6

School actually went smoothly for once that day. Wynne was seething all day, and was too busy trying to get out of detention to instigate any problems. The rest of the school seemed to discretely bow down to Logan and Virgil that day for what they pulled off. When school finished, the pair went to Logan’s home to continue Operation: Roach Stomp! Next up… Charlotte!!!

Virgil sat on Logan’s swivel chair that Logan kept next to his desk and spun around. Logan sat at the edge of his bed.

“So, Charlotte now right?” Virgil asked.

“Exactly, and I have an idea of what exactly to do. It’ll just take a bit of time and maybe a bribe,” Logan said smirking, confidence and doubt both echoed in his voice.

“Time and bribery,” Virgil repeated.

“Yup, time and bribery.”

“Okaaaay… What’s your idea?” Virgil said skeptically.

“So, we find out who Charlotte’s new partner is, we tell that partner about the constant heartbreaks and use Rashmi as a source if the new partner doesn’t believe us, and then we get the new partner to go to Charlotte’s parents and tell them about the relationships and the homework stealing and be all like ‘Oh, I’m so concerned about Charlotte because I care about her so much, I just wanted to talk to you guys to make it better…” And then Charlotte’s parents will be pissed and boom. She’s grounded.”

“Where the hell does the bribery come in?”

“If the partner or Rashmi doesn’t agree.”

“Alright,” Virgil said, “Let’s do this.”

At school the next day, Logan and Virgil took turns tailing and watching Charlotte, until they found her partner. It was unsuccessful, in that they didn’t find Charlotte’s new partner. Thankfully, though, Virgil had more than one trick up his sleeve. It happened during Charlotte’s and Virgil’s free period. Her false, falsetto, sweet as saccharine voice called out to Virgil when the two were alone. He was on his phone, pretending like he was just scrolling though social media, and she was facing away from him across the hall.

“Hey, honey~ I’ve noticed you seem interested in me today. Hm… do you remember,” she turned around, an almost sadistic grin plastered on her face, “when I kissed you all that time ago?” She started to approach him, “Are you back for more?” Virgil looked her in the eye. He smirked.

“So it is true that you don’t have a current partner,” he checked her out, “Lucky me.” She lightly pinned Virgil to the wall, and gave him a chaste kiss that lasted barely a moment.

“The rumors were false, then. You aren’t gay. Mmm, I’m going to enjoy this.” As she leant in towards Virgil, he felt the world go in slow motion. He froze. He thought he had denied the rumors enough for everyone to believe that he was straight. What made them spread again? He was ten miles deep into the closet and only one other should know. He feigned a smirk.

“Haha, yeah, I do not know where these new tales are coming from,” he said, desperately trying to cover up his moment of character breaking.

“Don’t worry, babe, we’ll put an end to what lil ol' Roman spread right now.” The pair’s lips collided. Virgil kissed back through his anger at Roman, and it seemed that Charlotte rather enjoyed that. Charlotte broke the kiss and scanned over the hall they were in for a storage closet. She took Virgil’s hand and pulled him into one a little bit away, and locked the door.

Their mouths collided again, and it wasn’t anything special. Just another person to add to Charlotte’s belt, and just a fake kiss for Virgil. It wasn’t fireworks, well it never is, but Virgil did think it was better when it was with someone he loved. Anger started bubbling up in Virgil once more at the thought of the betrayal he went through with his only other partner, and that anger made the kiss more heated. Charlotte took that as an entrance to slip her tongue into his mouth. He didn’t like it, but what was he supposed to do? If Charlotte didn’t have a partner, well, this was the only way to make the plan work.

They were both equally taking advantage of each other.

The first bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Virgil and Charlotte pulled away. Virgil wiped the wetness form his mouth with his jacket sleeve.

“Damn, Anxiety, if I’d known how great of a kisser you were, I wouldn’t have let you go that day.”

“I- Uh- Only one person is allowed to use that nickname anymore, and that isn’t you. Call me babe or some other couple’s pet name instead.”

“Well, babe, join me at lunch tomorrow, why don’t ya?”

“Sure thing, Charlotte.”

Charlotte fixed her hair and clothing, and left the closet, telling Virgil to leave later as to not arise suspicion from a teacher.

Well, one thing was for sure, Virgil was not coming out of the closet.

Chapter 7

“Verge, you did what!?”

“Chill out, Logan, it’s all part of the plan,” Virgil tapped his finger to his head, “Remember?”

“I know it is part of the plan, but this is really risky! The backlash of this could be horrific!” Virgil sighed, and looked around Logan’s bedroom, thinking of what to say.

“Well, I can’t exactly stop now. That’ll be worse. I’ll just keep pretending to like kissing her,” Virgil said, laughing at that last part. Logan relented.

“Ugh, fine. Do it. But you better be a damn good actor. And control your anger at lunch tomorrow. You can’t blow up at Wynne or Roman just yet.” Virgil grinned.

“Oh, but I sure can blow up at Charlotte. She likes it when I get angry. When we were making out yesterday I’d get pissed off thinking about the damned roaches, and she’d just like that more. She’s… she’s really something.” Logan threw a pillow at Virgil.  Virgil cocked an eyebrow.

“Jealous much, Logan?” Logan glared at Virgil.

“Falsehood. I could never be jealous of Charlotte and her cheating ways.”

“In more ways than one. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she already dumped me and moved on,” Virgil chuckled, “I wonder how the fucking drama queen is gonna handle finding out I’m Charlotte’s latest boy toy.”

+

Logan glanced at Virgil at the end of their last class before lunch, and Virgil gave him a discreet thumbs up. Charlotte sauntered up to Virgil’s desk and sat on it when the bell rang.

“So babe, go get your lunch with your nerdy dweeb friend and I’ll call you over to my table after,” she planted a kiss on his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Hmm… I cannot wait for our free period…”

“Me neither, Char, me neither. See you later,” Virgil said in a rather seductive manner and winked. Once he and Logan were out of the classroom, Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. “Man, my acting has really gotten better since middle school. Sorry she called you a nerdy dweeb, dude. I mean, she’s not wrong, but only I can say it.” Logan lightly elbowed Virgil.

The two bought their lunches, and soon after Charlotte took Virgil to the lunch table where the roaches generally sit. Virgil eyed Logan wearily as he walked to the other table, and Logan gave him a smile of assurance.  

Charlotte sauntered up to the roach table, and sat down at the table with Virgil next to her, holding her hand. On the other side of the table was Wynne and Roman. He was in the roaches’ domain now. Well, the roaches-minus-the-suspended-Nurul’s domain.

Upon seeing Virgil, Wynne burst out laughter. Gasping for breath, from whatever was so funny, he spoke: “Ch-Charlotte, haha, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Him? You can do, hahaha, so much better.”

“Yeah, and aren’t you gay, Anxiety?” Roman added, looking at Virgil for the first time since he sat down with the roaches. Virgil looked at Roman with a downright murderous glare.

“What the fuck. No. I’m not gay. I don’t know what got in your head and twisted your memory, Princey, but I am not gay. And don’t call me Anxiety,” Virgil said curtly. Charlotte looked at Virgil and smirked.

“Yeah, and he loves making out with me, don’t ya babe?”  She asked. Virgil smirked, and made eye contact with Charlotte.

“Mm, I just cannot wait ‘till our free period…”

“You’ve sure changed,” Roman said, raising his eyebrows. Virgil felt his blood boil. He knew for the sake of the plan, that he had to stay calm, but he couldn’t—not when dealing with Roman, at least.

“Go to hell,” Virgil all but spat at Roman.

“Woah, fellas, calm down. I mean all of us here know, including you Anxiety from that incident with poor ol’ Rashmi, that your “relationship” will last a week, max. Then, Charlotte will get over your pathetic ass, and everything will go back to normal. Until then, let’s be civil,” Wynne said, pretending to try and keep the peace.

“Civil, my ass. Never with you two fuckers,” Virgil yelled across the table. He gathered his stuff, told Charlotte to meet him outside of janitor’s closet, and stormed off.

Chapter 8

Virgil stormed outside the cafeteria and exited to the back of the school. He zipped up his black hoodie as the first of the coming winter’s winds crashed upon him. Virgil leant against a wall and felt the emotional turmoil of being around Roman and Wynne rise up. He pulled out his cell phone and sent a text to Logan.

               Sorry Logan, I blew up at them.

               I didn’t mean to, it just happened.

               I can’t stand them.

Logan replied a few minutes later.

               it’s ok verge

               it’s possible we cud use this 2 our advantage

               but more importantly

               r u ok?

Virgil sent only one more text; he put his phone away afterwards.

               I’m not. They’re assholes. I’m behind the school. I think I just want to be alone right now, though.

Virgil stayed in his spot, leaning behind the school for the rest of the lunch period, trying to calm down and reflecting on everything that occurred. He realized that maybe Roman was trying to be civil? But that didn’t mean he was excused for everything that happened between them. It was too much. Roman was too much. Why did Roman ruin everything?

The bell signaling the end of lunch rang. Virgil sighed. Well, time for a fun free period of making out with a person he doesn’t like. Virgil chuckled to himself at that thought.

Later that day, on their walk home from school, Virgil fully explained what happened. Logan responded only with a sigh and a pat on the back for comfort.

“It’s okay Virgil. This isn’t a complete disaster. We’ll just continue on with the plan as usual, and take Charlotte down. At least now we know for sure we weren’t just being complete dicks and all this is justified,” Logan said in a partial monotone. Virgil darkly chuckled.

“Your morals are very loose, because there is no way in hell fucking with people is ever justified no matter what they did. At least we’re owning how shitty we are, unlike those fucks who pretend to be nice and are actually just passive aggressive demons.” Logan stopped walking and turned to face Virgil. Virgil followed suit.

“Anxiety, what have I told you about putting yourself down, hm? We aren’t like them. Yes, what we’re doing is pretty crappy, but it’s for the greater good, ya know? No one likes the roaches and no one will bring them down because of the fear they strike in people. No one wants to end up like us. So we’re just doing justice…” Logan trailed off, losing his train of thought.  Virgil crossed his arms.

“C’mon you nerd, I know you’ve read books. Doing bad things for the so called ‘greater good’ is never good,” Virgil said, starting up his walking again, as Logan followed him.

“No way. Without Dumbeldore working for the ‘greater good,’ Harry Potter would never have been able to defeat Voldemort in the first book, since he wouldn’t have had the love protection due to the blood relation with Petunia.”

“Petunia was an abusive aunt! He was knowingly placed in an abusive family for ten years after his parents were killed! How was that worth it!?”

“Better only one person gets hurt than many more killed by Voldemort.” Virgil threw his hands up.

“What the fuck! It’s better no one gets hurt! You know what, I know I was all for it at the beginning, but honestly lunch made me realize how I have no one to blame but myself. I was the one who provoked Roman. I was the one who decided to take advantage of Charlotte. I was the one who wanted to stomp out the roaches in the first place! I’m the asshole! Greater good my ass…”

“You know what, Virgil? You’re right. You did provoke Roman; you did take advantage of Charlotte; and you were the one who proposed stomping out the roaches. But do you want to know something else? Roman was the first to provoke you two years ago. Charlotte is taking advantage of you right now. You’re just another notch on her belt. And you’re not the only one who’s wanted to stomp out the roaches. Don’t you see it? People have noticed what we’re doing, well they noticed what we did to Nurul, and they’re glad. Everyone is getting what they deserved.”

“Hhhhhhhh. It still doesn’t feel right to me…”

“Anxiety, you're overthinking this," Logan nudged Virgil with his elbow, "Hey, how about we ask Mr. Patton tomorrow about the greater good? He probably knows a lot about morals considering he’s constantly talking about them in the books we read for class,” Logan suggested.

“Fine,” Virgil sighed, finally relenting to something Logan was saying, “But I’m not going to continue with the plan until we do that.”

Chapter 9

The bell rang signaling the end of Mr. Patton’s English class. Virgil stretched when he got up, and groaned as the bruises from being suplexed weren’t fully gone yet. At least it was time for lunch.

Logan got up and walked over to Virgil. “So, Anx, do you want to ask about the greater good now?” Virgil shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. The pair walked over to Mr. Patton’s desk at the front of the room and waited there as the room cleared. Once it was just the three of them in the room, Virgil cleared his throat and spoke.

“Um Mr. Patton, we, uh, wanted to ask ya ‘bout the, um, greater good?” Virgil asked, his mouth becoming dry from the nervousness of socialization with someone new. Mr. Patton grinned.

“Oh well sure thing, kiddos! Do you guys just wanna know about it in general or something specific?” Logan pushed up his glasses.

“We wanted to know if doing something for the greater good justifies the means of doing it. For example, how Dumbledore put Harry in an abusive home so he could defeat Voldemort,” Logan said. Mr. Patton sighed.

“Aw, well shucks you two, this sure is a tough moral dilemma. But hey, that’s why they call me,” Mr. Patton pointed a thumb to himself, “Mr. Patton—it’s short for Morality Patton!” Logan deadpanned and Virgil suppressed a laugh. Mr. Patton coughed into his hand. “Tough crowd… Well anyway, the greater good is a very tough thing to dissect. There's a human part of us that wants justice in all situations, but unfortunately the human part is the fallible part, so when we want something 'done right' it's subject to our skew-whiff definition of 'right', and we end up doing things, like you said Logan with your Harry Potter example, 'for the greater good' that aren't good at all. This is my favorite kind of conflict to read and teach; the morally grey stuff where nobody's innocent.” Logan looked disappointed.

“So that would make someone bad if they tried to do something for the greater good?” Virgil asked, with his eyes averting from any possible eye contact.

“Well, it’s not quite that simple. In most media, if there's a 'it's for the greater good!'/'eye-for-an-eye!!' kind of a thing, none of the characters seem aware of it at all. They justify it blindly in their own minds and it never occurs to them that what they're doing is just as bad as or worse than what's been done to them; they've been wronged, so they get a free shot back. And that's just how it is. When we analyze books with the greater good as a prevailing theme, we need to ask ourselves some questions. Do the characters really have any right to get back at whoever wronged them? By getting revenge, are they just turning into the people who wronged them? So really, it’s up to the readers to decide if a character is bad or good,” Mr. Patton said.

Man, this guy is smart. Why isn’t he a college professor, Logan thought.

“Thank you, Mr. Patton. This information is very useful. I will be able to read books much better now,” Logan said. Mr. Patton nodded and smiled. Logan and Virgil made to leave the room.

“Have a good lunch and thanks for puddin’ up with me and my long winded explanation,” Mr. Patton called out with a wave. Virgil snorted and Logan facepalmed.

“It was a good explanation, Mr. Patton,” Logan said, as the two teenagers left the classroom and closed the door.

Chapter 10

Virgil’s eyes traced the floor, his head angled downward, as he breathed smoothly. Outside of the classroom, Logan faced Virgil.

“Anx, I- Virgil look at me,” Logan said forehead creased with concern. Virgil moved his head upwards and his eyes met Logan’s. “It pains me to say this, but,” Logan shut his eyes tightly, “I WAS WRONG!” he yelled, having to force the words out. Logan let out a small chuckle looked around. Virgil had flinched from Logan’s volume, but he was stunned for Logan’s confession. “You were right.  We aren’t doing this right,” Logan said despite his struggle to speak this for how it hurt his pride. “I still don’t fully agree that the plan is morally wrong, but I- I trust Mr. Patton’s and your judgement better than my own,” Logan shrugged, “I’m just… not all that great with moral stuff. I often lose points when we have to analyze that in the books we read…” Logan trailed off. Virgil nodded with a small smile, and the two walked over to the lunchroom. Virgil was furiously biting his lip as the two friends sat down with their lunches.

“So, what n-”

“Logan, I’m gay!” Virgil exclaimed, cutting off whatever Logan was going to say. “It’s not just the moral stuff that was making me feel bad, I couldn’t handle dating Charlotte when it all feels so wrong for her hands to be on my body, for her to call me “babe,” and do all this coupley stuff with me. I can’t, I’m sorry,” Virgil finished, tears welling up in his eyes, shaking his head as he held it in his hands.

“Virgil, it’s alright-” Logan began, reaching a hand out to Virgil, but was abruptly cut off by something foul. Wynne loomed over Virgil with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh? Did I hear that right? You’re dating our Charlotte, and you don’t ever like her?” Wynne said aggressively. If they were an animal, they’d be snarling ferociously while Virgil would be a small, shaking prey. With eyes wide and a slightly creased forehead, Virgil slowly turned around and looked up to find Wynne smirking at him.

“Y-You didn’t hear t-that right,” Virgil squeaked, obviously panicked.

“Sure I didn’t,” Wynne said sarcastically, narrowing their eyes. Wynne roughly grabbed the collar of Virgil’s shirt and forced him forward. “Prove it then. Prove you’re not gay. Prove you like Charlotte,” Wynne growled. Virgil didn’t know what to do, terrified and frozen with fear. A chair screeched and fists slammed a lunch table.

“Let. Him. Go,” Logan asserted, standing up tall.

“Make me,” Wynne snarled. As Logan was about to jump on top of the table to get to Virgil and Wynne on the other side, out of nowhere a fourth person punched Wynne in the face.

“I’m done being a bystander and an accomplice to you,” Roman growled, shaking his fist, and walking away. Wynne’s eyes went wide and their nose crinkled in pure, unadulterated rage. They walked up to Roman and grabbed his hair so he’d turn around and face them.

“What,” Roman spat, more as a statement than a question.  Wynne shook their head.

“You. Are. Not. Done. With. Me,” Wynne said, punctuating each word with a new level of ferociousness.

“I don’t know what you did, but it became clear to me that you’re the reason Anx-Virgil doesn’t speak to me anymore when he had lunch with us the other day. I don’t know what the fuck you did, but I can gauge how bad it could be, for one little, petty disagreement wouldn’t have separated us. I thought that’s what you did to push everyone else away from me, but I was wrong. And now, I’m finally getting some fucking confidence of my own to tell you to BACK OFF,” Roman said, insanely livid.

“Ah!” Wynne shrieked, never being rejected like this. They balled their hands into fists and stormed out of the cafeteria.

Roman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Both Virgil and Logan stood at the table, mouths agape in shock.

Chapter 11

"R-Roman?" Virgil asked cautiously, brow furrowed. "What was all that about?"

“Ah- I... I must take my leave! I, uh, have rehearsal!” Roman lied, making sure not to have eye contact with Virgil. Roman brushed past Logan and Virgil, and exited the cafeteria.

How did that just happen? How, no why, did he just do that?

Roman’s thoughts were a hurricane of confusion and emotion. It was all too much to decipher. So why not go to the auditorium and actually rehearse some lines? At least there he could deal with his character's problems, and not his own.

Roman entered the backstage of the auditorium and walked out onto the stage, script for an upcoming production of High School Musical in hand. He stood center stage, and began to sing one of his his solos. His deep, melodious voice echoed throughout the auditorium, and a spotlight shone on him. That’s strange. No one else should be here now. Except maybe...

“Deceit? What are you doing?” Roman called out to his classmate in the tech booth. A voice bellowed out of the loud speakers.

“I have a name, you know. It's Dennis Ceet.”

“Yeah, no. You made that up so you could have your edgy persona,” Roman said, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, you know what? The spotlight totally doesn’t bring out the tears in your eyes,” Deceit pouted, “And I thought Troy Bolton was a happy fella.”

“It’s an artists rendition,” Roman called out, waving his hand as he turned around. He needed to calm down. Deceit never let shit like this go.

“Man if I didn’t know any better, I’d say your in need of advice. Something's got you down, eh?” Deceit said, turning up the volume of the speakers he talked through. “Is there trouble in the oh so great Roman’s paradise?” Roman winced and covered his ears. “I mean, everyone would love to be you, since you have such great friends.” Speakers were definitely not meant to be this loud. “You’re just the epitome of this high school! Everyone envies you!” Deceit was practically yelling into the mic now. “WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT? WHAT WOULD YOU NEED ADVICE ON? YOU’RE FEELING TRAPPED, I BET! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS, ROMAN. NOT EVERYTHING’S ABOUT YOU!” Roman gritted his teeth from the sound, and fell to his knees. Now this was pain.

In the distance of his ringing ears, Roman heard the door to the tech room fall shut. Deceit had left the area physically, but his presence could still be felt in Roman's mind. Everything Deceit said was a paradox: true from the outside, wrong from the inside. A tear escaped Roman’s eye. There’s nothing Roman could do to make things right. It would’ve been better if he’d just stuck to the status quo.

Chapter 12

Logan and Virgil were perplexed by the... recent, unprecedented events at lunch. But there was unfortunately no time to dwell on that as partners were being assigned for a chemistry project. Ugh, why couldn’t teachers ever let students pick their own partners.

“With my luck, I’ll end up with Charlotte,” Virgil mumbled to Logan. Logan scoffed softly, and rolled his eyes.

“Roman! Virgil! Partner up,” the chemistry teacher called out. Virgil deadpanned at Logan, and sighed in frustration. He roughly got up from his desk and brought his stuff over to Roman’s table. Now this was just fucking fantastic. It was like the world was out to torture Virgil.

Roman’s eyes were still a tad puffy from his crying escapades, but at least he could play it off as a sad scene in rehearsal. Yup. That’s totally what it was. Hmph. Roman crossed his arms. Stupid freaking Dennis Ceet.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with as soon as possible so we can continue to avoid each other for all eternity,” Virgil huffed, crossing his arms, and blowing his bangs away from his face. Roman’s forehead creased and he looked at Virgil with soft eyes.

“I still don’t understand, Anx- Virgil. What did Wynne do? Why... why have we been driven apart?” Roman asked, steadying his shaking voice. Virgil shut his eyes tight and shook his head.

“I- H-How do you not know?! You- You were there!” Virgil whisper-yelled, eyes welling with tears. Romans eyes widened, and a frown grew on his face.

“A- Virgil. I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about. I thought we just drifted apart and Wynne sped up the process... but that lunch... It told me there was so much more than what I thought had happened,” Roman pleaded.  Virgil gritted his teeth, and pulled his hoodie sleeves over his hands to make sweater paws.

“Okay, so we have to find the pH of this first and...” Roman’s mind wandered away from the instructions Virgil was reading off. He ran a hand through his hair. Goodness, this must really have been bad if Anxiety isn’t even hiding that he wants a subject change. I need to mend this. I have to do this right. I can’t just be the person everyone envies and hates. It was never me. And this is how I’ll start to fix my image.

A hand snapped in front of Roman’s face. “Hey! Princey! Pay attention,” Vigil said rolling his eyes at, in the words of Logan, Roman’s incompetence.

“Fine... but we can’t just not talk about this, Virgil. I... I need to know what happened, and Wynne is never gonna tell me. Like a prince, I need to go for peace and make amends,” Roman pleaded, forehead creased. Virgil looked dangerously at Roman and pursed his lips.

“You. Were. There,” Virgil snarled. “Now. pH. Chop chop, this thing won’t react all by itself.”  Roman took a deep breath and complied. There was no way of getting this out of Virgil. He’d have to do something else.

At the end of the day, as students filed out of school, Roman did a rare act of hiding himself among the crowd and blending in for once. He slunk over to Mr. Patton’s classroom, and knocked on the door before entering. Mr. Patton looked up at Roman and smiled.

“What can I do for ya, kiddo? Problems with the homework?” Mr. Patton asked in his ever so kind and caring tone. Roman didn’t say a word as we walked over the table nearest Mr. Patton’s desk at the front of the room, and dragged over a chair to be directly in front of Mr. Patton's desk. Sitting down on the chair, Roman tilted his head ever so slightly, and spoke.

“Mr. Patton, I require some assistance. But not with the homework. I must know, based on the grounds of literature of course, how do characters get others to open up, when they don’t want to open up?” Mr. Patton pushed his glasses up and chuckled.

“What happened this time, Roman?” the elder asked, knowingly shaking his head. And as Roman explained the events that transpired since lunch, Mr. Patton’s smile grew so much softer.

“Hey, Roman. Kid. I’m proud of you. You finally stood up to them. It’s the bravery of a prince. And you can’t force whoever ‘Anxiety’ is to open up to you. You have to let them trust you enough again to tell you,” Mr. Patton said, nodding gently to Roman. The high schooler had been coming to Patton for advice under the presumption of books ever since he took a class with the elder in tenth grade. It wasn’t long until things spilled, and fake names were created for the sake of confidentiality so Roman could get some much needed advice in a quilt free fashion. All that he was going through, all the manipulation, no child should have to deal with that. And Mr. Patton was going to make sure that Roman got out of this okay. Because as a teacher, that was his job: to help his kids.

As Roman left the school that afternoon, and swung the key to his bike lock around his finger, he overheard a hushed conversation that was never meant for his ears.

“Roman’s out. For good. Charlotte, don’t look at me like that, he betrayed us! C’mon Char, he punched me,” Wynne reasoned with the taller girl, convincing her with appeals to her ever so unstable emotions.

“I just- first Nurul, then I mean it was never love for us, but then Virgil, and now Roman? All in such a short span of time? I- I’m starting to think I just shouldn’t be around boys anymore...” Charlotte chuckled weakly, the last stray tears of hers finally drying on her cheeks. Roman looked towards the conversation and that’s when it happened. A confrontation of the ages. A stare down of strength. Wynne’s and Roman’s eyes locked together as Roman continued his path towards the bikes, and Wynne's head turned to follow. The two were intertwined together, never being able to leave the other’s gaze. But when Wynne realized where Roman was heading, a wicked smile shone upon their face. They rushedly took a safety pin out of a pocket of Charlotte’s backpack, making a noncommittal remark of paying her back, and with the precision of a hawk, aimed the pin correctly for it to fly through the air, and pierce the back tire of Roman’s bike with the momentum it gained from the flight.  

Roman blinked, taken aback from this sight. He thought bike tires were stronger, but who even knows with the innovations of today. He stopped looking at Wynne, and turned to his bike instead, examining the damage. If he took the pin out, the air would deflate, but if he left it in, the bike would knock the pin out as the tires rotated. Everything felt like too much. Wynne was too much and Wynne was always there. It was always Wynne.

“WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM? WHY DO YOU RUIN ME? YOU NEVER STOP, WYNNE. WHY?” Roman cried across the mostly empty front entrance of the school. Wynne strutted over to Roman, and took the pin out of the bike.

“Oh, Roman, Roman, Roman. You know why. You were there on that day that our pal Anxiety so loathes,” Wynne put their hands on their hips and looked down at Roman, who was still crouching by his bike tires, and breathing heavily. “Now, why don’t you get out of my sight,” Wynne finished, twirling the safety pin around their fingers. Roman took a steadying breath, unlocked his bike, and walked it out of the school’s front lot. He could’ve been brave. He could’ve been a prince. But... he wasn’t there yet. And Roman didn’t know when he’d ever be chivalrous enough to ever get there.

Chapter 13

Roman >> Virgil

           Is this still your number, Virgil?

           I read over the project and created a schedule of what we can do in class, yet we must still meet up after school, so should I come to your place, or vice versa?

Virgil >> Roman

           Yeah, this is my number.

           I don’t really care, we can do whichever.

Roman >> Virgil

           We can go to mine, then. I’ll meet you by your locker once school is over and we can finish this quickly, as you wish to.

Virgil >> Roman

           Sure

Virgil >> Logan

           [Screenshot.png]

           Why is Roman being so nice?

           Logan, you gotta help me out here. I’m having a crisis!

           Hhhhh, I’m going to go to his house. Ugh, stupid chemistry project, stupid atoms…

           Wait, shit, don't go into a rant about the cool mystery of atoms, normally I’d be up for it, but right now I am in Crisis mode.

Logan >> Virgil

           anx calm down

           do sum breathing

           itll be fine just work fast and get out of there

           my judgement may b wrong but based on evrything u’ve told me and wat ive seen, roman  seems 2 be… remorseful

Virgil sighed and pocketed his phone. He put his head down and listened to the droning history lecture, only needing to look up occasionally to check the map for locations of the cities his teacher mentioned. Everything that was going on in this hate and manipulation triangle of Roman, Wynne, and himself was too stressful, and Virgil could not deal with it. All this drama was like a coil wrapped around his body, winding tighter and tighter with each and every passing thought of the roaches, choking him, restricting his movements, making him fear for how in the hell he was supposed to get out of this alive. Virgil was grateful for one thing: that he still had his wonderful, best friend Logan, but at this point, even Logan's presence didn’t make the coil loosen. Virgil knew it would unwrap once he dealt with everything, but the sheer notion of doing such a thing only made the coil tighten into an unimaginable pain. So Virgil felt it was fully justifiable to blearily rest through class as he slowly dazed off into a light sleep as to avoid his wandering thoughts of the two people who shall not be named.

The next thing Virgil knew, the bell signaling that the last class of the day was over rang. Virgil rubbed his eyes as he carelessly swung his bag over his shoulders. He trudged himself over to his locker even though his legs felt like lead from the sheer dread of this coming afternoon with Roman. Virgil's famous overthinking started, and his mind swam as the crowd pushed him through the hallways. So much could go wrong. So much could get truly and utterly fucked.

Virgil made a standard remark of a greeting to Roman, and tuned out whatever the other was blabbering on about as he collected the books he needed from his locker.

The walk to Roman’s house was relatively silent aside from squealing elementary kids chasing each other, and the chirps of soaring birds; that is, until Roman cleared his throat. Virgil glanced at him and watched the deep breaths Roman was taking as Roman fluttered his eyes closed, then open.

“Virgil, we mustn't let a such a feud stay between us. The tension is unhealthy, and it seems as though a particular event that is the cause of it has obviated me. I want to- No. I need to know what happened,” Roman said, cloaking his uncertainty and self-doubt with a calmer version of the arrogant bravado most saw emanating off of him. Virgil stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked up some gravel as he kept walking.  He kept his eyes on the ground, and weighed his options. Finally, Virgil opened his mouth.

“I’ll tell you what happened, at least what I know of what happened, but I won’t trust you so easily, because if you ever cared about me in the first place, then something like this wouldn’t slip your mind so easily. Okay?” Virgil muttered, slumping his shoulders. He scratched the back of his neck with uneasy apprehension. Roman nodded solemnly, and Virgil took that as his cue to explicate. He took a deep breath and started.

“Roman, you outed me to the entire school back in ninth grade. You were talking to Wynne, and projecting everything over the speaker system as you told them about how I kissed you. I mean, I obviously denied it, but… AH! How in the hell could you do that?! I trusted you with this knowledge of me being gay and you, you fucking tell the entire school! And then Charlotte tells you're spreading this shit again! What the hell is your deal? Fuck you, Roman. Just stay out of my goddamn way from now on.”

Roman made eye contact with Virgil one last time before the other boy turned around and walked away, and noted the tears falling down his flushed cheek.

A lone breeze ruffled Roman's hair as he stared on at the growing distance between himself and Virgil. Roman didn't know what he expected to hear, but it was definitely nothing like that, because Roman did not know when any of what Virgil said happened, which lead to only one conclusion that was spelled with a W-Y-N-N-E.

Chapter 14

Roman watched Virgil storm off, guilt tugging at his heart, for how could he have let something like this happen? He… he practically ruined Virgil all because he couldn’t stand up for himself against the three figures that so dauntingly loomed over him. Nurul. Charlotte. Wynne. They had Roman wrapped around their finger for years, and now they were gone. For good. And he was to be one of their next victims. Roman never realized this day would come so soon: the day where he lost his immunity from the wrath of the roaches. All he felt now as he stood was regret. Was everything he did worth it if it all came crashing down like this? Should he have stood by his real friends instead of acting like- No. instead of being a cowardly peasant? The next days at school were relatively peaceful. Yes, the tension was so thick it couldn’t even be cut with a knife, but no action was happening yet. It was the calm before the storm, the preparation for the oncoming war. The soldiers on each side readied their ground: Logan and Virgil lied low and stuck to evasive movements, for they were impossible to find; Wynne continued their backhanded compliments and scheming, as they regrouped with their troops as Nurul’s suspension wore off; and Roman dragged a chair over to Mr. Patton’s desk and poured his heart out. “Roman, kiddo, it’s going to be okay, okay?” Mr. Patton sighed wistfully, and gave Roman a comforting smile. Roman slumped his shoulders a tad, giving up his high persona for one he felt fit him better. “I know… I’ll be out of this school and this town soon enough, but,” Roman cracked a weak smile, “I can’t just leave everything like this. It’s not what a prince would do. A real prince would- He wouldn’t be me.” “There’s no use in dwelling in what could’ve been done different. We can’t change the past, but we can change how we are in the present. Forgiveness is hard to achieve, but you’ve wanted it, right?” Mr. Patton claroulisly spoke, making eye contact with Roman that the younger avoided. Roman nodded and stood up. “I- I think I know what I must do now. Thank you Mr. Patton,” he said, shuffling the chair he sat on back to its original position and left the room. Roman started his walk home through the chilly autumn air. He watched as crisp, burnt looking leaves flew away from trees, and turned around. His house was not to be his destination for now. He had something to do. He at least had to do it for Mr. Patton. If he were to disappoint him, then he really could never be a prince.

“Hey, what did you get for number nine of the calculus homework?” Virgil asked, looking across his house’s kitchen table, littered with textbooks and pencils, to Logan, who had already finished. Logan glanced over to his notebook and muttered a “the limit doesn’t exist.” Virgil groaned and scratched out his work to try again. Just then, the doorbell sounded throughout the house, causing Virgil to jump from being startled. He strode over to the door, working on the problem as he walked. When Virgil saw who was at the door, and his pencil and notebook clattered on the floor. “Roman, what the hell are you doing here?” Virgil asked dryly, eyebrow quirked ever so slightly. “I-I’d like to make amends, Virgil,” Roman whispered, eyes downcast. Virgil squinted at Roman. He crossed his arms and leant against the doorframe, looking Roman up and down. “Okay… continue,” Virgil said after about a minute of scrutinizing Roman enough for even him to fidget under Virgil’s gaze. Roman took a deep breath and met his eyes with Virgil’s. “I… I don’t know exactly what I did. I don’t know how I outed you, and I fear it must have been a plot set up by Wynne. But that’s-,” Roman looked to the sky as he scrambled for the right words, “That’s besides the point. Even if I hadn’t known what made you stop talking to me, I should’ve gone to you, and talked to you about it, instead of letting such a- such a rift f-form between us. I shouldn’t have left you, and I want to right that wrong. I shouldn’t have let those, pardon my french, fucking assholes done so much harm to you. I should’ve stopped it, like a prince would do. Nay, like any good person would do, which is why I am here,” Roman finished. Virgil’s mouth was slightly agape. A tumbling tornado of emotions swept through him, and the only thing he could do to stop them from blowing him away was cry. A tear fell out. Then another. And another, and another, until he was full on ugly crying no matter how much he willed himself to stop. Roman’s forehead creased, and he reached out to comfort Virgil but pulled his hand away. He didn’t know if Virgil would like physical contact (from him, especially). “I-I-I’m fi-ne Ro-cey. I-I mean R-Roman. I-I just can’t s-stop cry-ing,” Virgil stammered out, voice cracking like it was middle school. “O-Oh… Um. It’s, uh, totally fine if you don’t want to forgive or trust me. I’m just glad you heard me out,” Roman said, giving a soft smile in the way of Virgil. Virgil smiled back. “I-I accept y-your apology, but I-I don’t forgive you,” Virgil said, and Roman nodded with a smile, and began to tear up with himself. “Same with me!” Logan called out from the table inside, having heard the entire conversation, causing the two teary eyed teens to double over with laughter.

Chapter 15

“Nurul, Nurul, Nurul. What are we going to do with you?” Wynne asked. They folded their hands and pursed their lips as they waited for a response from the boy who had somewhat betrayed the little group of ‘friends’. Charlotte sat beside Wynne on the circular table, chewing her lip, while Nurul sat directly across from the other two. The trio was sitting in a diner, and as Nurul mulled over his options, a basket of curly fries was delivered to the table. Wynne took one and ripped it in half with their teeth. They popped the other half in their mouth, chewed, and swallowed, maintaining an unwavering and unnerving eye contact with Nurul. They gritted their teeth when they finished. “Hm. Well, since you don’t seem to have any suggestions, and you already know what happened to Roman, perhaps, we’ll let you be with us longer. Unless, say, you think Roman was right?” Nurul froze.

“No!” He cleared his throat. “I mean, no, I’m not on Roman’s side.” Wynne crinkled their nose and flashed a tight-lipped smile. Charlotte’s eyes darted between the two.

“Good choice. Because this is your last chance,” Wynne growled. They got up from the table and motioned for Charlotte to come with them. “Enjoy your fries! I know you love them curly,” They exclaimed with fake peppiness as Charlotte and them left the diner.

Unbeknownst to the trio, an edgelord, supposedly named Dennis, was sitting at the table over, listening to every word that was said.

Wynne, Charlotte, and Nurul walked into school together on the following school day. Whispers travelled through the halls fast and far enough for Roman and Virgil to catch wind of them and move away into an empty classroom to continue their atomic discussion for the upcoming chemistry project. However, Logan was dealing with his lab partner away from his friend and his… frenemy, that by the time the gossip reached him, it was too late. Even Virgil’s warning text fueled by the enormous speed of microwaves was too late. Logan caught a glimpse of Nurul in the corner of his eye, and his brain went into overdrive. Adrenaline flooded his body and he was no longer a creature of logic, but one of instinct.

Nurul clapped his hands and got all up in Logan’s space. “Well, well, well, nerd, what do we have here? Are you planning on another virus, because I can take all you got,” he sneered, cracking his knuckles. Logan immediately looked Nurul in the eye, leant against the lockers he was standing next to, and adjusted his glasses.

“There is literally no possible way your dinosaur of a computer that had already been abused enough having to be used by someone as feeble minded as you could handle every virus I could load onto it. Hm. But, perhaps you did not understand what I explicated? Do I need to dumb down my insult?” Feeling like the baddest bitch in the city, Logan was full on smirking by the end of his tirade. Nurul slammed his fist on a locker right beside Logan’s fist.

“Say that again, termagant,” Nurul widened his eyes, “Yeah, I know big words too.” Logan scoffed, and rolled his eyes. Goodness, he was picking up some habits from Anx. He would never have thought to do something like that to his eyes a year ago!

“Nurul… Remember our chat?” Wynne suggested from behind him, hands on their hips. Nurul glared at Logan, but relented, and backed off. He began to walk down a side corridor, when he heard Logan call out to him.

“Wow, I never thought Wynne would have you, as they say, hashtag whipped!” Nurul clenched his fists, but he became the bigger man for the one moment he needed to be, and he kept walking away. Logan dusted his shoulder, readjusted his tie, and right away turned back to his explanation of naturally occurring diatomic molecules and how he and his partner must represent those in their model, even if it wasn’t on the project guidelines. Wynne and Charlotte continued down the hall, not following after Nurul, and everyone who witnessed what just went down, gained a new respect for the badassery of Logan.

Based upon their discussion from the morning, Roman and Virgil decided to once again try and meet up at Roman’s place after school to work on the atomic model they never started. Hopefully, now that they were on better terms, they could actually work and not tank their grades.

At first, they only talked to communicate about their atom’s assembly, but as the two started working on parts of the project that didn’t require much thinking, Roman started to discuss feelings.

“Hey, Virgil, I know I already apologized, but that fight earlier where you got suplexed was brutal, and I just want you to know that I regret not stepping in sooner than when I got Mr. Patton to intervene,” Roman murmured. Virgil narrowed his eyes for a second.

“Wait… Logan told me that after I was suplexed and passed out, he saw someone get Mr. Patton to break up the fight. That was you?” Virgil asked. Roman nodded.

“I know, I never should’ve let Nur-”

“Oh my goodness, Roman, thank you. I- I- I honestly think if no one had intervened at that time Nurul might’ve kept going and hurt us bad,” Virgil admitted. Roman’s eyes widened, and he paused his rote work to face Virgil.

“Really? That already didn’t hurt you bad? Wouldn’t you be concussed from something like that?” Roman was dumbfounded. Virgil bit his lip and decided to steer clear of a concussion discussion seeing as he never actually went to a doctor.

“I mean, I was super bruised up. It was insane, they were everywhere. But... they weren’t bad bruises, there was just, just, a lot of them, but I’m pretty much better now. They’re all gone for the most part, and I’m back to my normal scrawny self,” Virgil finished sarcastically. Roman chuckled lightly. The two went back to chemistry talk, though they were both more at ease, even if only slightly.

When they presented their project in class the following afternoon, the two were able to get a flow and start communicating, for they were able to easily cover for when one of the two didn’t know something. They were constantly veering and intervening the scientific conversation that they were leading, but it wasn’t to throw the other off; instead, it was to make sure they both stayed on course, and the A they received proved that they had.

Chapter 16

Riiing. The jarring sound flooded through the high school letting all the students know it was time for the pandemonium of lunch. As the students left their classes, they began to chat, and Logan and Virgil were no exception.

“Anyway, I told Nurul to copulate with himself, with different words, however. Slang words. I said ‘#whipped’,” Logan recounted, as the two picked up their lunch from the cafeteria.

“Lo, every time you tell Nurul to fuck himself, I become ever fonder of you,” Virgil said, placing a hand over his heart. “And like-” Virgil cut himself off when he started to hear something interesting and poked Logan, so he’d listen too.

“Bro, it’s the sides!”

“Gurl, what?”

“You know? Logan and Virgil? The two people who are actually standing up against Nurul, Wynne, Charlotte, and Roman? Dude, where the hell have you been for the last two weeks?”

“Home sick. You know th-”

“Wait, you’re saying people are calling us ‘the sides’?” Logan asked, walking up to the pair he and Virgil were eavesdropping on. Virgil followed him but shrunk back a little. He had never talked to these people before and he wasn't sure how things would go down. The person who initiated the conversation nodded frantically.

“Bro! You didn't know? Man, everyone's started calling ya guys the sides, cuz you're on the good side, ya know, standing up to the totally not gucci tyranny of Wynne, Roman, Nurul, And Charlotte.”

“I speak seven languages and that was not one of them,” Logan mumbled under his breath. Virgil rubbed the back of his own neck.

“I- I mean, I don’t think Roman is all that bad,” Virgil said strained, scared of the repercussions of his words. “I- I think Wynne hurt him just as much as th- the two of us…” The person the sides were talking to smiled softly and sighed

“Yeah, fam, that's not too surprising. Wynne’s been unradical to everyone.”

“‘S’crazy to think that were not the only ones they've hurt,” Virgil said.

“Yeah… Well, enjoy your meal, then,” the person finished, turning back to their previous conversation.

“You too,” Logan called as the duo walked away.

Reaching their usual lunch table, Logan remarked about the solemnness of the air. Virgil agreed. The two friends, or sides, as they were now known, ate in silence for an eternity until Virgil piped up to share a concern of his.

“Hey, Logan, I think, I might be becoming friends with Roman again, and this is all happening so fast, and we only started speaking last night, but we were really good in the presentation, and and he was the one who called Mr. Patton in to save us when we got in that fight with Nurul and he seems really genuine and I wanna trust him but I dunno what to dooooo,” Virgil ranted. Logan patted Virgil’s hand.

“Anx, breathe. Deep breath. In and out,” Logan explained, breathing exaggeratedly so Virgil could match with him. “You don’t have to do anything yet. You don’t have to decide anything. You can just observe and see what comes of that.” Virgil nodded.

“Yeah, thanks Logan,” Virgil said. “I’ll do that.” The two sides continued their meal in peace. After a while, holding a lunch tray, Roman walked up to the two.

“May I sit here?” he asked tentatively. Logan looked to Virgil who nodded. “Thank you,” Roman said as he sat down. “This may be out of my place, but I think I have an idea of how to stop Wynne.”

“We’re done with that Roman,” Virgil said dryly. “If we stoop to their levels, then they’re the ones who win. We just do things out of self-defense now.” Roman closed his eyes for a moment.

“Then think of it like self-defense. My idea is to use Logan’s skills to put a screen mirroring or listening thing on Wynne’s phone, so we know what they’re going to do. That way we can take preemptive measures to keep ourselves, and, well, everyone else safe.” Virgil stabbed his juice box with the straw and took a long, drawn out slurp out of it. Logan tapped his chin.

“Yes, I can do that,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

“...Do it. But if we go too far, then just, stop,” Virgil decided at last.

Chapter 17

Roman >> Virgil

    Would it be okay if we could talk today after school about Wynne, Nurul, Charlotte, and, well, me?

Virgil >> Roman

    Yeah, surw. Feel free to walk home with me.

Virgil >> Roman

    *sure

Virgil lurked around the exit of the school, staying in the shadows and out of sight until he was able to find Roman.

“Boo,” Roman whispered, appearing in front of Virgil out of seemingly nowhere. Virgil jumped at least a foot in the air and let out an insanely high pitched shriek. All the bustling students looked towards the source of the noise. Feeling all eyes on him, Virgil covered his face with his hands and banged his head against a wall. He groaned.

“Ugh, Princey why did you have t-,” Virgil, wide-eyed, turned to face Roman, “Roman! I meant Roman! N-Not Princey! I meant to say Roman, why did you have to do that,” Virgil panicked, his stomach churning from fearing the impending doom that would be brought upon him by Roman. Roman reached at and held his shoulder, steadying Virgil.

“Virgil. It’s okay. You can call me Princely if you want. I’m- What's got you so worked up over it anyway?” Roman asked.

“Y-You threatened to hit me the last time I called you that?” Virgil squeaked. Roman was aghast.

“Oh no, I would never do that! Goodness, how did this hap-,” Roman narrowed his eyes in a deadly squint, “Wynne! Sorry Virgil, our talks gonna wait, I need to go show Wynne a piece of my mind,” Roman finished, gritting his teeth. Virgil grabbed Roman’s arm as he started to storm off.

“Princey, no. It’s not worth it. They’ll just hurt you more,” Virgil said. Roman sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, let's just head to your house before I do anything regrettable.” Virgil nodded, and began to leave the school with Roman following him. On the street, the two walked in tandem for the few blocks that they needed to travel. The air was a bit chilly and a small gust of wind caused Virgil to shiver slightly. Roman took off his white coat and handed it to Virgil, who simply shook his head and zipped up his own hoodie. Roman just held his coat awkwardly, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to put it back on.

“So, you wanna talk about the roaches?” Virgil asked, as the two arrived at Virgil’s house, and Virgil unlocked the door. Roman cocked an eyebrow.

“Roaches?” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh, um. It’s what me and Logan would call you guys, ya know. You and Wynne and Charlotte and Nurul…,” Virgil said awkwardly, kicking off his shoes and making his way to a table in the kitchen. Roman did the same.

“Ah. I see. It’s… quite a befitting name for, well, us. For me,” Roman muttered. He looked down on the ground pensively, like he was trying to figure out how he could ever be more than a lowly roach. “I was a terrible person, and as much as I’d like to say ‘Wynne made me do it’, it wouldn’t be right? It would just be an excuse, and I always had the power to stop them.”

“You really didn’t. They manipulated you as much as me. Look at you. You used to be brimming with confidence and now you’re just sad and angry.” A tense silence fell on the two for a couple minutes while Virgil and Roman just stared at each other in thought. “It’s not like you knew most of what they were doing anyway, at least that’s what I’m getting at.” Even with his height and his muscles, Roman never felt so small.

“It still feels wrong. Even indirectly, I hurt people, and that’s not a good thing. I-I hurt you,” Roman said, sighing at the end. Virgil scoffed.

“Yeah, like you even care about me,” Virgil said sardonically.

“Virgil, I do! I really do! And I swear I have no idea what happened to make you think that! Even if I was there, even if I did it, I don’t know what I did!” Roman exclaimed, covering his face with his hands. He took a deep breath and put his hands on the table. “I don’t- It’s like they- Can’t you just-?” Roman was cut off by someone loudly knocking on Virgil’s front door. Virgil went and opened it, and there was Logan, sweaty and panting. He didn’t even explain what was happening as he pushed past Virgil and went straight to his kitchen. He took out so bread and vegetables and made a sandwich, then out it on a plate and gave it to Virgil. Only when he sat down, did he finally catch his breath.

“We have an emergency! I did the hacking thing in Wynne’s phone and I was listening to what they were saying, and, and and they were- Virgil! They’re gonna exploit the fact that you don’t eat, like, at all!”

Chapter 18

Virgil looked at the sandwich. The sandwich looked back. He poked it. According to Newton’s third law, the sandwich poked him back. Virgil banged his against the table and groaned.

“Why do I have to this? Let him exploit the fact… I can’t with this. It’s just, food is like, kinda gross honestly. It feels so weird passing through your body and has weird tastes…,” Virgil complained. Roman got up, opened the fridge, and took out some pasta materials. He poured water in a pot and put it to a boil on the stove, sat back down, and began to eat the sandwich meant for Virgil.

“Uhh… What are you doing?” Logan asked apprehensively. Roman held up a finger as he finished chewing.

“Didn’t you know? That one’s a picky eater. He can’t take anything too extreme,” Roman exclaimed. Virgil’s cheeks flushed lightly and he averted his eyes from the other two.

“Anx?” Logan asked.

“He’s right. I don’t buy school school lunch because there’s just too many flavors and textures and ugh. I just. It’s stupid, really stupid, but I can’t stand it…,” Virgil mumbled, staring at somewhere in between Logan and Roman to avoid their eye contact.

“Virgil, it isn’t stupid. Not at all. You know how your anxious all the time? There’s something called Neophobia. I don’t know too much about it, but it sounds like that,” Logan explained, hoping to make Virgil feel better. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Great, now I’ve got another disorder,” he snarked back at Logan.

“There’s nothing wrong with you!”

“Yes, there is!”

“Listen to me!”

“I’m a mess!”

Roman screeched his chair back and got up from the table, momentarily stopping the argument. He walked over to the pot, poured salt, oil, and dry pasta in, and stirred the pot. He grabbed his phone and played a playlist of Disney songs, whistling to the tune as he cooked. Virgil and Logan kept glaring at each other, but neither said anything to the either. After about ten minutes, when the pasta was ready, Roman put it in a bowl, grabbed a fork and set it in front of Virgil. He muttered a “you’re welcome,” and raised an eyebrow prompting Virgil to take a bite. Reluctantly, Virgil followed through. His face morphed from an expression of disgust to surprise, and he moaned.

“Oh my gosh… this is… mmm…,” Virgil mumbled. “I need a lifetime supply of this.” Roman smiled.

“I’ll text you the recipe, just promise to make this at least once a day?” he asked. Virgil nodded compliantly, digging in. Roman kept eating the sandwich Logan made, and Logan just crossed his arms.

The following morning, Virgil kept his promise, making the pasta and putting it in a thermos to take to school. He smiled as he walked to school and when Logan stopped by his house for the two of them to walk, they both apologized. Well, it was really more like: “Lo, I’m sorry I didn’t listen” and “Anx, I’m sorry you didn’t listen to me,” but Virgil got the intent. Even saying ‘I’m sorry’ in an underhanded way was tough for Logan. During lunch, Logan and Virgil sat down at their usual table, with Roman joining them halfway through the block, and Virgil thought that is he could see Roman smile so innocently, eating would be worth it. After school, while Logan went to the library and Roman to rehearsal, Virgil headed to Mr. Patton’s room.

The door was slightly ajar and Virgil knocked twice. He heard Mr. Patton cry out, “come in!” and so he took his cue and entered. Mr. Patton’s face lit up seeing his student.

“Oh, Virgil. Is there anything I can do to help you?” Patton asked, putting down his red pen and pushing the papers he was grading aside. Virgil chewed his lip for a second.

“Uhh… um… I-I have a question… about a-a book?” Patton smiled.

“Well sure thing, kiddo! Pull up a chair, I’ll help you out!” Virgil did so, and noted the plush bear with a rainbow bow on his teachers desk, and felt just a little safer.

“So, um. There’s this book I’m reading. And in it, there are two characters. One betrayed the other, but they realized that maybe the first wasn’t, like, at fault… A-And so, the second wants to forgive the first, but, but, the second also wants to maybe be friends with the first, but also isn’t sure if he can trust the first… a-and, um-,” Virgil paused. He wasn’t really sure what his made up question for his made up book was going to be. Yet, Mr. Patton knew what Virgil was asking even without an explicit question.

“Well, golly, that sure is a tough situation. There is a very fine distinction between forgiveness and trust. You can forgive someone for their past actions, but forgiveness is used to put yourself at peace, not necessarily the other person. You can absolutely hate or despise someone, but you can still forgive them. Trust, however, is trickier. Trust brings peace to the other person. And only after an establishment of trust, can the two people in your book begin to become friends.”

“B-But how could the second character, um, know if the first really, like, was innocent?”

“Communication. A lot of plot comes from miscommunication, and the characters react based on that in a way that tears them apart, but only once things are cleared up, will things be better.”

“Thank y-you,” Virgil said, pushing the chair he was sitting in back to its original position. After Virgil left the room, Mr. Patton leant back in his chair. This ‘book’ sounded a lot like that situation Roman told him about at lunch. Patton tilted his head. That was it. The person Roman psued’ed as ‘Anxiety’ whenever he’d tell him about his life, was Virgil.

Chapter 19

As he left the high school, Virgil sent out a quick text to Roman.

Virgil >> Roman

Hey, can we talk about what happened the day that I started to despise you that you have no idea what you did?

Roman >> Virgil

Yeah, sure. Rehearsal ends in like half an hour, so I can head over to your place afterwards?

Virgil >> Roman

Sure.

Virgil paced up and down the foyer in his house chewing on his lip. He played with a fidget cube as he walked, trying to figure out what he would say to Roman once he arrived. Maybe he should start with, “We need to talk,” or perhaps, “I don’t wanna hate you anymore,” or he could go even bolder and just say, “Wynne is a grade a dick and I’m pretty sure they caused us to stop being BFFs five-ever,” or, or , he could go with “I’m s-” Knock, knock.

Virgil approached the door, took a deep breath, opened it, and stuttered “I- uh- wh- m- ahhahha… words, you know?”  

“There’s no need for small talk, Virgil, just please tell me what happened that day?” Roman responded. Virgil nodded, took a deep breath, and walked over the kitchen table, pulling out a seat for Roman and sitting across from him. Virgil played with his fidget cube for a little as he waited to get the courage to begin to recount his tale.

Freshman year. March 15th. In fair Florida, we lay our scene. Virgil is sitting alone at lunch, waiting for his best pal Roman to come back from whatever he was working on and to sit with him. He knew things had been awkward ever since he kissed Roman and it turning out Roman wasn’t gay like the theater kid stereotypes said, but he didn’t realize it would cause Roman to avoid so much, even after so much, after their reconciliation! Like yeah, it was high school, and yeah people were awful, and Roman told him about these people named Nurul, Charlotte, and Wynne, and how they kept trying to befriend him, and Roman said he wanted to be nice and try and make friends even if they seemed a lil mean in Virgil’s opinion, but damn, if it didn’t hurt that Roman chose to spend more time with them, rather than Virgil, then Virgil would be lying. But anyway. Princey told him he worried too much, and that he really did care for Virgil, and so for today, by listening to his friend, Virge remained intact.

The PA system clicked on which was quite unusual for lunch unless there was a lockdown drill. Before any noise was sounded, everyone tensed up, preparing to duck under a table and lock the doors. But instead of a “Code red. This is a drill. Code red.” blaring over the speakers, Roman’s voice did. And this wasn’t an announcement for the school musical.

“Okay, fine, it still bothers me a tiny, little, bit that Virgil kissed me, but I’m still his best friend and he’s my best friend, and why would I care that he’s gay! Plus-” and the PA system clicked off. Virgil sat frozen. He couldn’t believe what he heard. His head was spinning. Roman just- He was- Everyone knew . He needed to get out. He was going to hurl. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Everyone was looking at him. No one was looking at him. No, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. He stumbled outside the cafeteria, trying to slow his breathing, and ran to the field outside the gym, and curled into himself under a tree. He plugged his headphones into his phone and blasted Crywank at an ear damaging volume. Princey. He. No.

Princey really did hate him, didn’t he?

Roman’s eyes widened. “What the fuck. I-I never did that. I swear, Virgil I never did that! Holy shit. Is this why you stopped talking to me? I wouldn’t talk to me...,” Roman mumbled in a way too fast pace, while breathing at a way too fast pace. “N-No wonder you hate me. How do I have no recollection of this? This never happened? W-Was I brainwashed? Oh my gosh. Dear fuck…”

“Roman?” Virgil asked, tentatively reaching out to touch the other. Roman didn’t respond. He just hit his forehead with his hand.

“Fuck. Wynne. Fucking bullshit piece of crap little snakey as devil what the hell why the fuck but they’re a they’re! Oh my god, Virgil I’m so sorry. I remember what happened March 15th. God, I’m so sorry…” Virgil studied Roman. He opened his mouth but no sound came out at first.

“...What happened?”

Freshman year. March 15th. In fair Florida, we lay our scene. Roman, poor little insecure Roman, was being harassed by these people who didn’t care about him. They wanted him as a status symbol, but that didn’t even make sense! He wasn’t better than anyone else! He was worse. He was, like, the worst. Sure people liked some of the stuff he did, but that didn’t mean he was a good person. Like… like look at how he was to Virgil after that day! He brushed him off as his own confusion started. And he didn’t even have the gall to tell Anx that maybe he feels the same way. That maybe he isn’t as straight as he thought he was. Anyway, this is all that was going through his head while Wynne blabbered to him about needing better friends, and how they’ll be perfect for Roman, and they can do anything together, blah blah blah. Whatever.

“-know that emo shithead is gay,” Wynne said, rolling their eyes. This snapped Roman to paying attention. He promised Anx he wouldn’t tell anyone and Anx never told him he came out so what just happened? Wynne laughed. “Ro, look at me. I use they/them pronouns. You think I can’t sense a lil homosexuality when it’s near me?” Roman shrugged and chuckled nervously. Hopefully Wynne wouldn’t sense it on him. “Oh anyway, look we’re here. This was the place I wanted to show you!” Wynne declared, picking the lock to a teachers only part of the library and holding the door open for Roman.

“I don’t think we should be here…,” Roman mumbled. He didn’t want to be caught somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“Who shoved a stick up your ass? Live a little, man. Don’t be such a tightass,” Wynne said, entering the room and tapping their foot impatiently for Roman to follow. The words stung a little and he didn’t want anymore like that thrown at him, so Roman stepped inside. Wynne smiled, and sat down on the lone table in the small room next to what looked like the mic for the PA system. “Anyway, let’s eat!” Roman nodded and sat down on the floor, eating some soup he put in a thermos in the morning. The pair ate in silence for a couple minutes before Wynne piped up. “So, how’d you find out about the shithead’s sexuality?”

“Oh, well, it’s kinda a long story,” Roman muttered, too scared to defend Virgil’s name after last time.

“We got time. This room is only in use in the mornings anyway.”

“Well we were talking this one day, and, um…”

“And?”

“He kissed me.” Wynne burst out laughing.

“You’re telling me that waste of space kissed your straight ass, and you didn’t, like, beat him up or anything? Damn, straight guys have really changed… I mean who wouldn’t wanna punch that goth little dick, but that would give such a great excuse to do it!” Roman was silently horrified at Wynne’s comments, but he didn’t know what to do.

“I’m still friends with him… he was just a bit confused… I mean, I don’t really care that he did that…” Wynne cocked an eyebrow and subtly pressed a button on the PA microphone that meant it would start transmitting everything spoken in 45 seconds. Wynne smiled. They climbed off the desk, and walked over to Roman, their skirt fluttering as they did so. They bent down, put a finger under Roman’s chin, and pulled it up, so Roman would hold eye contact with Wynne.

“So, you’re telling me that it didn’t bother you at all that you’re best friend, or whatever else mushy ass shit, kissed you?” Click. The mic was on.

“I mean, I guess-” Roman whispered.

“Speak up,” Wynne, whispered back, interrupting Roman.

“Okay, fine, it still bothers me a tiny, little, bit that Virgil kissed me, but I’m still his best friend and he’s my best friend, and why would I care that he’s gay!” Satisfied, Wynne sauntered back over to the desk, and sat on it again, very subtly pressing the off button on the PA system next to him.

“Plus, I-I don’t know if I minded it or anything,” Roman finished.

“Oh, Roman. You left him hanging for how long? A year? And only now you reciprocate his feelings? He’s going to hate you. I bet he already does. I’m pretty sure he hangs out with you out of pity. Maybe he kissed you out of pity, because he didn’t want to be your friend anymore, and in his screwy mind, he thought that would make you hate him, but oh no, you fuCKED IT UP EVEN MORE, RO-RO! you made yourself even closer to him, so I bet, the emo shithead hates you more now. ”

Virgil looked unfazed by Roman’s recollection of March 15th. Wynne was truly fucking despicable. He walked over the Roman, and hugged the softly crying boy. Roman only cried harder.

“Look, I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this, but it’s okay to be gay. It’s okay to be yourself. And no one hates you. In any case, I’d embrace you,” Virgil said rubbing soothing circles in Roman’s back.

The two sat together for a while, neither saying a word, but listening to lofi hip hop beats to recover from their emotionally draining tales. Eventually, Virgil got up and made some green tea for the two of them. Roman shot Virgil a fond smile, and downed it. Once he finished it, Roman got up, stretched, splashed some water on his face and sighed.

“Man, that was cathartic. I feel a lot better now,” Roman declared, smiling. Virgil closed his eyes and breathed.

“Yeah, I think I do too,” he sighed.

and Chapter 20

Soon enough, Logan came over to Virgil’s place, and Roman And Virgil explained what Wynne had been done. Are they crazy? Was Logan’s first reaction and then it was Screw the greater good! They hurt you both badly! Yet Virgil countered that Wynne had hurt Logan equally as bad, and then they argued about the greater good for while. Well, until…

“You know, now that I think about it, Charlotte doesn’t know about this. She is going to be pissed if she finds out,” Roman thought out loud. Virgil and Logan stopped their friendly bickering and turned to Roman.

“So she’s not an evil queer then?” Virgil asked. Roman shook his head.

“I don’t think she ever knew about the horrific stuff Wynne has pulled to other queer people. If she ever found out, I’d fear for Wynne’s life,” Roman supplemented. Logan laughed a little.

“I bet you Wynne’s like the type of queer person who would vote for a conservative political candidate who claims to be pro-gay, and then takes away queer rights,” Logan commented. Virgil shook his head in agreement. Roman tapped his chin.

“I think I want to tell Charlotte,” Roman said. “I’m pretty sure she’s been as manipulated as me. She deserves to know. Plus, honestly, when she’s not around Wynne, she’s a really cool person. I remember her breakup with Rashmi. It was bad, because she had actually tried to be a good partner that time.” Virgil stared at the ground.

“I-I was close by when she broke up with Rashmi. S-She had tried to kiss me? It was weird… I took care of Rashmi she was heartbroken, because she didn’t think Charlotte actually valued the relationship. It was a strange day,” Virgil added. Roman shrugged.

“Even with that, we should still tell Charlotte. It’s only fair. And if she already knows, then we really know if we do need to stay away from her as much as Wynne,” Logan commented.

“But how would we talk to her?” Virgil asked.

“We don’t; Roman does. Huddle up guys, it’s scheming time,” Logan announced.

At lunch the next day, Logan made sure to draw Nurul away from the Wynne and Charlotte’s table by making sure Mr. Patton assigned Nurul and Logan together for classwork that day, and Logan sabotaging their work so they’d have to stay after class during lunch to be able to finish and get the grade they needed. Nurul was fuming, but with Mr. Patton right there, there was nothing Nurul could do. Virgil sat at the table next to the Roaches’ table as a sort of backup. He gave Roman a discreet thumbs up as the princely boy went up the Roaches’ table and sat down, uninvited, and prepared for the worst.

“The fuck are you doing here? Begging for forgiveness?” Wynne spat, cutting into his lunch food just aggressively enough for it to be intimidating. Roman rolled his eyes, and didn’t respond to Wynne in exchange for looking at his phone. He pressed the record button on a sound recorder app, and put the phone face down on the lunch table.

“No, Wynne. I just want to talk with you both,” Roman responded calmly.

“Oh so do you need your pathetic ~boyfriend~ here too to protect ittle wittle Roman?” Wynne asked. Charlotte looked nervously between the two.

“Well, what I want to talk about has to do with Virgil. You see I was thinking about that day you took me to the PA room in the library during lunch in ninth grade, and the things I said there. And I was telling Virgil about that, and he told me you recorded our conversation, and outed Virgil! How could you do that? What kind of person, let alone a fellow queer person to Virgil, does that?” Roman said, not quite-yelling, yet slightly losing his cool. Charlotte froze.

“Wynne, you- what?” Charlotte whispered, voice quavering.

“No! Char, you don’t understand! He’s lying!” Wynne quipped in defense. Overhearing how the conversation was going, Virgil rolled his eyes and grabbed some random person from his grade, and brought them to the Roaches’ table. He asked them what they remembered about Virgil’s coming out, and said that they remembered someone saying it over the PA system, and then Virgil bolting. They then called everyone at the Roaches’ table “weirdos” and went back to their friends.

“See?” Roman said.

“That doesn’t prove anything!” Wynne shouted, pushing they’re chair back and standing up.

“It proves I wasn’t ready! It proves I wasn’t expecting it! And you know very well that I wasn’t! Whatever happened to queer people sticking with each other? We’re supposed to, like, be there for each other and not pull this shit! Like it’s one thing to bully me for any other reason, and it’s another thing for you to bully me because of my sexuality! Go to hell, Wynne Ellis,” Virgil shouted back. There was no way he was letting Wynne get away with this. Looking distraught, Charlotte muttered a quick I’m gonna go and bolted out of the cafeteria. Virgil and Wynne did not stop their death stare match, each waiting for one to make the first move. Roman tapped Virgil’s shoulder.

“We should go. There’s no point in you getting caught up in another fight, even if you’ve healed from the last one. You have healed right?” Roman whispered. Virgil sighed and broke his stare down with Wynne in favor of looking at Roman.

“Yeah, you’re right, let’s go,” Virgil turned around, picked up his things, shot a text to Logan saying that he could finish with Nurul, and left the cafeteria in stride with Roman, leaving a sputtering Wynne behind, “And for the record, yes I am healed, and while Logan did ban from fighting for two weeks after the suplex, it’s been two weeks Roman, so you better watch out,” he teased. Back in the cafeteria, Wynne huffed, and began thinking up ways to bring Virgil down once more.

After school, Logan, Virgil, and Roman met up in the library to post the recording that Roman took. It was quite exposing to Wynne, was proof of Wynne’s assholishery, and was a warning to the other queer kids of Florida. They gave the voice recording captions and started to put it up on school social media: not the official school social media, but the ones run by students that basically everyone followed.

It was time for Wynne’s reputation to go down the drain.

a/n: thank you if you made it this far!! there will be more to come soon! for now, here’s the tag list

Prinxiety @221biotchplease @a-blog-just-for-sanders @ace-of-hufflepuffs @ace-v-p-d @acrobaticcatfeline @alextheodd @all-these-trees-stealing-mah-o2 @allaboutme7 @allthemetalsoftherainbow @alyssadashrub @anastasialestina @angeliclogan @angered-turtle @anony-phangirl @anxious-darkwolf @anyay666 @aph-roma @areyousirius-noheisdead @asalwayss @AskolotlQuestions @asterias-confused-writings @baileystarsketches @the-incedible-sulk @blaikleethepanagender @blazeimagines101 @bluebellie01 @candiukas @captain-loki-xavier @catsandrandomness @chillingintent @cinderlunarcyborg @cinquefoilelove @clueingforblogs @completelyclevername @confinesofpersonalknowledge @crankywhenprovoked @datonerougecookeh @deadinsidebutliving @deathbyvenusftw @deep-ocean-blues @dementeddracon @depressed-alone @devastate-my-space @didsomeonesayyoutube122 @do-rey-me @dreamerhowelll @dudlebuggs @elder-jeremiah @elvishfrenchassassin @emokittenlikesgore @emovirgil @emphoenixcat @erlenmeyertrashofsandersides @evilmuffin @faacethefacts @fabulousfanaticfander @thats-so-crash @fairly-close @faithhopefelony @fanatic564 @fandergecko @fangirlsanonymous @fireflightyt @funsizedgremlin @gamerzylo @gayrobotalien @grey-lysander @hanramz-the-fander @heythereprincey @hi-disappointed-im-daughter @hissesssss @hoodie-bros @hottopicvirge @runyou-cleverboy-andremember @imaflashcard @inkyoo @inkyroo @iris-sanders-athena @ive-given-up-on-it @jade-dragon226-fan @jaybingu @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @just-another-transblog @justmyshitandmoreshit @k9cat @katatles-the-fish @kentato-kenart @kickassking14 @kirsten-the-freak @koalaaquabear @kurna-kovite @l-i-t-vocabcards @lacandra @lacrimosathedark @lana–22 @lockolocka @logically-sided @louisthewarlock @madelynnaa @magicmapleleaf @makemeaplant @makemeaplant @maximum-fander @mercythemermaids-blog @micha-like-you-find-in-rocks @microsoft-nerd @migraine-marathon @milomeepit @minamishipsit @mollycassmith @moonlightinwater @multi-fandom-trash-x9000 @muontsy2 @musicphanpie-b @musicsavedmefromdeath @mydogsaresofuckingstupid @neko-ereri-art @nightmarejasmine @notallpotatoesarefrenchfries @nottodaylogic @notveryglittery @nuttytheorizer @nymphaedoratonks @ocotopushugs @on-lock-like-attica @osnapitzbc @pandagirl0730 @panicatthefalloutphanficfandom @pansexual-cat @pastel-patton123 @pattykrabbies @pearls-of-patton @fricksonsticks @phanic-at-the-malfoys @pieces-of-annedrew @pinkeasteregg @planetsanders @potterlover394 @poundland-twoface @prinxietypreoccupied @proudhufflepuff @prplzorua @purplesatankittycat @radioactivebread @rainbow-beaniegirl @ray-rambles @reba-andthesides @redundant-statements-for-400 @roaring--20s @robanilla @roman-is-a-gay @rose-gold-roman @royallyanxious @rptheturk @ruuworld @samidaboss3 @sanders-fam-ily @sanders-sides-things @sanders-trash-4ever @sanderssides-deathangel @saphirestrike @sarcastic-anxious @sassy-in-glasses @save-dirk-gently @sesame-icecream @shygirl4991 @silversunshine2012 @siriuswhiskers @smokeyrutilequartz @smollestsinnamonroll @space-d0ubt @spacenerrrd @the-feels-are-coming @spoonfullofcrofters @starlightlogan @starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer @stars-in-mine-eyes @stormblessedcastiel @storytellerofuntoldlegends @strangerthings-and-phan @superfandertrashbros @superintrovertfangirl @thatonenerdtm @the-optimism-of-the-ostriches @the-prince-and-the-emo @theanxietyofbeinganxious @thecrimsoncodex @thegirlwiththedragonheart @thenerdycube @thepusheenqueen @theroyalramen @thesilentbluesparrow @theworldismysupernova @theworldismysupernova @thisisshien @thomas-must-get-to-sleep @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @too-precious-to-process @too-random-for-me @toujours-fidele @trashfireiplier @trashypansexual @tree4life25 @unknownsandersfan @urtrashhq @v-blue-writer @vampyrsarah @virgilisaneternalmood @virgils-anxiety @virgils-hoodie @voices-and-stardust @vulnerablevirgil @watch-me-introvert @weird-short-person @whyamihereohwell @wowimanerdblr @yamiaainferno @yonnie-boy @yourmomsafalsehood @l-i-t-vocabcards @enderperson43 @houseplxnthoodie @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @nicoandtheninegalaxies @beetlequail @katie-the-noble-fangirl @johnlockandrarry @mildly-entertaining-fiasco

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #prinxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #mine #my fic #hsau

[write-my-dreams]

Jay Tim Day 1: The Toughest Job

Title: The Toughest Job

Author: write-my-dreams @ tumblr/Ao3

Pairing: JayTim

Genre: Canon, action

Warning: Some violence and cursing

Chapter(s): 1/1

Summary: Jason is none too pleased when Bruce calls him and wakes him up. Irritation turns to urgency when Bruce tells him Black Mask has put a hit out on Tim, who has no idea what's going on. Jason suits up and goes to Tim's rescue.

Read it on AO3

Jason groans into his pillow as Bruce’s ringtone blares in his ear. The hell does he want? He considers ignoring the call to go back to sleep. Except Bruce rarely contacts him unless there’s some sort of problem. Things are better between them, but tensions still remain. Jason gropes for the phone without raising his head. “What?” he growls into it.

“Where are you?”

“In bed.” Jason turns over onto his back with another groan. “If it’s my turn to pick up your demon spawn kid, tell him to get a ride from Dick. It’s too early. Call me later.”

“Get up!” Bruce orders.

The urgency in his voice startles Jason into obedience. “What’s going on? Is someone injured?” Fuck, please don’t tell him someone’s dead. 

“Suit up and go to Tim. Now. Barbara caught word of a planned assassination for him. Lucius says Tim’s already left the office for his work lunch at the Royal Swan. He isn’t answering his phone so I have no way of contacting him. You’re the closest one to the restaurant. Keep Tim safe.”

Jason comes to full alertness the moment “assassination” reaches his ears. “Royal Swan. Got it.” He presses the phone to his ear with his shoulder and grabs his uniform. “Does Babs know who it is? Deathstroke, Deadshot, some other well known hitman?” 

“Slade wouldn’t take a hit on Tim.”

Not if he wants to get in Dick’s pants ever again. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“She doesn't know who the assassin will be. Only that they were hired by Roman Sionis.”

Jason’s fingers tighten around his gun holsters. “Black Mask? Why the hell is Black Mask going after Tim?” If Roman fucking Sionis succeeds in harming a single hair on Tim’s head Jason will take great pleasure in gunning him down. 

Bruce sighs. “I don’t know, Jason.”

“The Red Hood will pay him a visit tonight,” Jason says grimly.

“As will Batman.”

Jason smirks as he pictures the fear on Sionis’ face behind that mask. A pissed off Red Hood <i>and</i> Batman interrogating him? They’ll have Sionis singing like a bird in no time. “Good. I’ll call you once I’ve got Tim. Leaving now.”

“Be careful.” The line goes dead before Jason can say anything in response. He pockets his phone and grabs his boots. He finishes putting on his chest armor, jacket, and helmet on the way to his bike. He knows how to keep his composure during tense situations. So he is <i>not</i> panicking as he drives to the Royal Swan well over the speed limit in broad daylight. It’s rare for any of the Bats to come out during the day. Jason doesn’t give a fuck what passersby think. The two police cars he zooms by must recognize him since neither officer pursues him for speeding. Smart move. 

Jason reaches the restaurant just as Tim’s cherry red sports car pulls into the parking lot. He’s off his motorcycle the second he parks it. Tim steps out of the car looking way too sexy for his own good. Today he’s wearing a charcoal suit over a white dress shirt and the blue tie Jason gave him for his birthday last year.

Tim stops in his tracks when he sees Jason. His eyes widen in surprise. “You’re the Red Hood. What… What are you doing here? During the day?” He plays his part well by backing up, looking nervous as he clutches the door.

“You’re in danger.”

“From the Red Hood?”

“No, from Black Mask. I’m here to protect you.” Jason scans the buildings around him. Offices, apartments, a shopping mall. The killer could be anywhere and have a number of ways to take down Tim. Poisoning the food or drinks inside the Royal Swan, shooting from the rooftops or the windows, bombing the restaurant if subtlety is no concern. Jason lowers his voice in case anyone can hear them. “Oracle heard about it. Who are you meeting?”

Tim frowns. “Colonel Raymond Hayes from the army. Why?”

The name means nothing to Jason. He scans the area again, looking for the clues Bruce and Dick taught him. There! “Get down!” He seizes Tim’s shoulder and forcefully drags him down to take shelter behind the car. A bullet strikes where Tim’s head had been moments ago. “Fuck,” Jason curses as he tightens his grip on Tim. 

Tim lays his hand on Jason’s arm. “We need to get the assassin away from the restaurant. Innocent lives are in danger while I’m here.”

“You think?” Jason snaps. “Give me your keys then get in the back. Stay down. I’ll drive us out of here.”

Tim knows better than to protest. He stays low as he opens the back door and crawls in behind the driver’s seat. Jason grits his teeth as he hears two more shots hit the car. The rear passenger window shatters from a third. He throws himself into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. The tires screech as he drives out of the parking lot and onto the road. Jason grips the steering wheel tightly as he runs through a red light, leaving a trail of angry drivers and honking cars behind.

“Hood,” Barbara says in his com. “I saw you on the security footage. You have Tim?”

“He’s safe. Let B know that.” Jason tears his eyes away from the road when Tim climbs into the passenger seat. “The hell? I told you to stay in the back!”

Tim gives him a withering look. “Roman Sionis didn’t hire the League of Assassins. There’s one shooter. Unless he has speedster powers he’s not going to catch up to you when you’re driving. What does he want with me anyway?”

“Hell if I know.” Jason speeds through another red light and swerves to avoid an oncoming car. He ignores the honking and screeching of tires. “Did you hack into his bank accounts or find something incriminating?”

“As Red Robin. Not as Tim Drake.”

Jason tenses as he sees a police car in the rearview mirror driving straight towards them. He seizes the back of Tim’s neck and pushes him down again so he’s bent over his legs. Jason ducks as the masked “officer” opens fire on the car. The back window shatters and he hears a tire give. Jason swerves down a side road with an ugly curse. No way in hell will Tim get hurt on his watch. Not when he’s yet to tell Tim how he feels about him.

Barbara speaks again. “Turn at the first left. Go through the next three intersections, turn right, then go over the bridge. I’ll keep the way clear for you.” 

“Got it.” Jason realizes he’s still holding the back of Tim’s neck. He releases him to grip the wheel again, following Barbara’s instructions. Thanks to her guidance they’re able to lose their pursuer in spite of the tire. 

Jason doesn’t relax until they’re inside his nearest safe house with the garage door down and security active. He shuts off the engine and turns to Tim. “Are you okay?” Jason cups his cheek to examine his eyes, turning his head from side to side then looking him over to ensure he hasn’t sustained any injuries. No concussion, no broken glass on him, no blood on his clothes.

Tim bats his hand away. “I’m fine, Jay. Thanks to your quick actions. Shit. I had no idea any of this was going down.”

“Where’s your phone? Bruce tried calling you to warn you. You didn’t answer.”

Tim’s pale cheeks flush. “I, uh, forgot it at the penthouse.”

Jason sighs. “Seriously? You were so sleep deprived you didn’t think to grab your phone and take it with you?”

Tim’s silence is all the answer he needs.

Jason mutters a curse and shoots a text to Bruce. <i>“Tim and I are at my safe house. Neither of us are injured. Tells Babs I owe her one.”</i> Tim’s car is the only thing to sustain damage. Jason drops his phone onto his lap and looks at Tim again. “Black Mask isn’t smart enough to figure out you’re Red Robin. Did he ask you on a date or something and you rejected him?”

Tim glares at him. “You think he’d be alive if he did something like that? Ra’s would separate him from his head! And for your information, <i>no</i>, I’ve never had any contact with Black Mask in my civilian identity.” He gets out of the car and scrubs a hand down his face. “Shit,” he says again. “I have no idea why he’d target me. Is he trying to get to Bruce?”

Jason frowns. “It’s possible, but not really his style. I don’t like this one bit.”

“You think I appreciate being shot at in my civilian identity?” Tim runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Guess I’m not having lunch with Raymond Hayes. Thanks for that, by the way. He’s the latest on a long list who wants Wayne Enterprises to sell tech to the military.” He glances up when Jason approaches him. “Bruce sent you to be my bodyguard?”

“I was closest.” Jason hesitates before taking off his helmet. Tim is alive and well. What better time to tell him? It’s now or never. “And… he knows.”

Tim blinks. “Knows what?”

Jason wonders if he’s made a terrible mistake. It’s not too late! He can back out, come up with a lame excuse. He looks into those big blue eyes and feels his defenses crumbling. Tim can never know the effect a single look has on Jason or he’ll lord it over him forever. Finally, he comes clean. “He knows I’m in love with you.”

The confession catches Tim off guard. His eyes widen in shock and he takes a step back. “You’re what?”

“I’m in love with you, Tim. I hate seeing you hurt. I’d do anything to keep you safe. To make up for what I’ve done to you in the past.” Jason contemplates throwing himself out the window if his confession turns Tim against him. Tim is gorgeous, intelligent, and best friends with Superboy. If Jason does anything to Tim, Kon will find a way to maim him.

Tim’s cheeks turn pink. “I… never knew you thought of me that way. I thought you and Roy were together.”

“Roy’s my best friend. I care about him, but I wouldn’t date him. Especially since my type happens to be Robins.” Jason can admit to having a crush on Dick in the past. Who hasn’t had a crush on Dick Grayson though? He’s ridiculously attractive and a great guy. Though with that temper he can easily live up to his nickname.

Tim steps forwards, pulling him out of his musing. “Robins huh?”

Jason closes his eyes. “Look, I know you don’t like me back. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just… wanted to get it off my chest. I guess.”

“Jason, stop. You never gave me a chance to tell you what <i>my</i> type is or how <i>I</i> feel about you.”

His breath catches. “What?”

Tim lays a hand over the bat symbol on Jason’s chest. “I like you too, dummy. I thought you were dating Roy so I never said anything.”

Jason blinks. “You mean Roy cockblocked me and we weren’t even in a relationship?”

“Dick thought you were.”

“Well he was wrong! Roy and I are <i>not</i> dating. I’d like to date <i>you</i> if you’d let me.” Why does everyone think he and Roy are a couple? Because they’re the family screw-ups who get along great, work together, and are good friends in and out of their uniforms? Okay, so it makes sense. Still, he’s never viewed Roy with any romantic interest. Not when Tim’s been around. Tim with his soft hair, that nerdy glint in his eye when he talks about Star Trek and science fiction, his fondness for wandering around the manor in leggings and shirts he stole from other family members…

Tim laughs softly. “Well, Romeo, you did save me from an assassination attempt. I think you deserve a kiss for that.”

Before Jason can respond, Tim is up on tiptoe kissing him. He wraps one hand around the back of Jason’s neck as he presses closer. Tim’s lips are so soft. Jason puts his hands on Tim’s waist to hold him against him as they kiss.

Black Mask is <i>so</i> getting the ass kicking of his life for sending assassins after Tim. Jason won’t kill him though. Yet. If not for this whole situation and the urgent call to protect Tim, Jason knows he wouldn’t have confessed. Now he has. Tim is safe and warm in his arms, they’re together now, and they’re going to take Black Mask down.

After Jason yells at Dick for telling Tim he and Roy were dating.

#jaytim week 2018 #jaytim week #jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #fanfiction #write-my-dreams wrote this

[crowkingwrites]

Bang Bang! (Ch.23)

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Reader

Summary:  The Red Wedding happened a week ago. Your boss, Petyr, insists on celebrating the men who “won” this victory, the Red Kings, an assassination group run by the sour-looking Roose Bolton. You, one of Petyr’s favorites, is tasked to find out more about these Red Kings. Who are they? Who are their clients? Who is next?You’re very good at what you do until you meet him. What do you do? Girls like you can’t fall in love. Does the Pretty Bird fly away with him? Or does she ruin the Bloody Bastard and everything he has?

Words: 1267

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11108982/chapters/30229113

Charlotte kept on top of things in the “King’s Nest” they made for themselves. IT pawns hacked, typed away, and gave orders to Red Kings inside.

“How many?” she asked out loud.

“Seven confirmed kills, we’re trying to take our time. Security is heavy,” one of them answered her back.

“Fine, can anyone give me eyes on Petyr Baelish and Lysa Arryn?” Charlotte walked towards the front where Yellow was. He shifted in his seat and pointed to the lower screens.

“They’re in Lysa’s room,” Yellow said. Her penthouse was covered in the finest things. Beautiful rugs from India, new furniture to match her needs, and big bouquets in vases that displayed beauty and wealth.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes on Petyr who was talking with a redhead. “That’s not Lysa. That’s Sansa. We need to inform Roose. We could capture her.”

“Capture her? You want to kidnap Sansa Stark? After the huge Stark Boys controversy? Don’t you remember who did the Red Wedding? It was us, Charlotte!”

“We get Sansa, we get Winterfell,” Charlotte said. “I want eyes on Lysa!”

“She’s heading up to her penthouse now,” a pawn answered. “She’s got four men with her. They’re armed and wearing vests.”

“Where’s our nearest King to her?”

“That would be Poison and Lulu. They’re in the southern part of her resort and closest to her penthouse,” another pawn answered.

“Put them on route, but not to kill, only to watch,” Charlotte’s whipped back when she turned to the front again. Screens flipped and switched between cameras. She pressed her ear. “Dom, where are you? I don’t see you or Y/N.”

She heard nothing.

“Dom, do you copy? Where are you?”

Again, she heard nothing. Charlotte looked at the live footage again and found several Red kings, but no signs of you or Domeric.

“Yellow, give me a GPS location for Domeric and Y/N, now,” she said quietly. Yellow sat up and pulled up both of your markers. Charlotte peered at the screen.

“What the hell?” she said. The screen showed Domeric and you inside the VIP guest penthouse beside Lysa’s. Both of you were in separate rooms, but beside each other. “Wha-why? Wait. Yellow, show me footage at 5:45pm with Y/N and Dom.”

“They just passed security,” Yellow noted.

“Fast forward,” Charlotte said. Yellow clicked away finding the next time stamp of both of you.

“There. 5:50pm at the elevator.”

“And then?” Charlotte and Yellow watched the footage of both of you being subdued and taken. “Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed,” Yellow nodded. “What do we do now? We got Kings inside, but should we risk it?”

Suddenly, a door burst open. Ramsay walked in with his men following him. Yellow Dick flinched and fell out of his chair. Charlotte stood her ground, watching her childhood friend stomp right up to her nose. He stood inches from her face.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Hello to you, too,” she said flatly, not amused or scared by him. Ramsay narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t make me repeat it again,” he threatened. Charlotte stepped aside.

“Yellow, tell him where she is,” they both looked down to see a frightened Yellow almost quivering on the ground.

“Ram—

“Show me where,” his blue eyes scanned the screens for you until he saw the GPS trackers. “She’s inside the Vale? Captured?” Charlotte could feel his temper rising. Heat radiated off his skin.

“It was your brother’s idea,” she told him.

“My brother’s idea was to get himself and my—Y/N captured?” his jaw became hard as a rock. His eyes were stern.

“Your what?” Charlotte smiled.

“Don’t toy with me. It’s complicated,” Ramsay spat in her face.

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s really not,” Charlotte pointed to the cameras. “Yellow can we have visual of the guest penthouse?”

“Yes and no,” Yellow crawled back up to his desk. “There is visual inside the penthouse, but not where we need it. They disabled the cameras where Dom and Y/N are.”

“Did you try to hack them?” Ramsay asked, focusing on your GPS tracker.

“We’ve tried, but I can try again,” Yellow’s fingers ran against his bald head. Keys started to click faster and faster. Red messages of DENIED kept showing up until one singular red message came across the screen.

Come catch the pretty bird before she flies away.

“The fuck does that mean?” Ramsay cocked his eyebrow. “Yellow, give me recent footage of the penthouse.”

“But I can’t—

“Not where they are now, outside in the living space. Who’s there/ Give me eyes,” Ramsay stared at the screen.

The guest penthouse had a gold and red scheme to it. The heavy red curtains hung beautifully from their rods. Real fruit was placed in baskets while the grand windows were open to let in the air. The hardwood floors were too clean as if they had never seen a speck of dust in its life.

Security guards sat in the couches anxiously waiting for something to happen. Doors opened to a struggling Domeric, muffling through the tape. He tried to giving all his strength into escaping.

“You were supposed to knock him out!” one of Petyr’s men said to the other. His grip tightened on the young man.

“I tried!” the other shouted. “It’s like he’s made of rock! He’s hard to hit!” They dragged him to one of the set up rooms. Domeric’s arms and legs waved around and still attempted to escape while the door shut behind them all.

Next, you and your attacker came on the cameras. Ramsay’s face hardened again. You were compliant and he escorted you to your room.

“I hate this,” he mumbled. “They blindfolded her, taped her mouth shut. She doesn’t know where she is.” He watched your hands stay in front of you. Something clicked inside of his head. He scrambled in his pack for something.

“What are you doing?” Charlotte asked.

“She’s a smart girl,” Ramsay explained. “We’re watching this in the past which means she’s stuck in there now. She needs to know that I’m here.” Ramsay held his phone in his hand and began typing away furiously.

“You’re going to text her?” Charlotte almost laughed. “Her hands are literally tied in there. They have her hostage.”

“Exactly,” Ramsay said quickly. “A while ago, she set my ringtone apart from everyone else’s. It doesn’t matter what I say, only that she hears me. That’s how she’ll know.” Ramsay hit send on the text message.

“Oh fuck,” Yellow watched the footage. Everyone’s eyes went back to the screen. Brad walked across the room and nodded his head to the security guards.

“Is she in there?” he asked.

“All ready for you,” one of them laughed. Brad laughed with them, and put his hand on the doorknob.

“Good, I expect she and I will have so much fun,” he smiled. Ramsay slammed his hands down on the console.

“The fuck you won’t!” Ramsay turned and started to leave and took an earpiece with him. “Yellow, maintain visual. Bones, get me inside. Grunt, take down anyone that gets in my way. Charlotte, come with us.”

“This isn’t the plan,” Charlotte ran after him, grabbing weapons from Ben.

“Domeric’s plan was fucked anyways,” Ramsay told her. He handed her a knife. “My plan is much better.” “What exactly is your plan?” Charlotte asked him as they exited the building. Ramsay smirked and looked to the Vale.

“I’m going to bring Hell to them.” Ramsay pressed his ear piece. “Forget what my brother told you. Bring chaos to them. Kill every Lannister you find, but leave Brad and Petyr to me.”

#bang bang! #ramsay bolton #ramsay snow #ramsay x reader #ramsay snow imagine #ramsay bolton imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic

[cat-the-dragon]

This Last Thing I Could Do For You

I guess most of my followers already read  Even Now We Feel The Shape Of Your Absence, that I’d posted partly because of @camsthisky​, and partly because of the @nanowrimo​.

This time, I’m blaming @chibinightowl​ for inspiring me to write this prequel (still meant to be read after the other one), both her and @comicroute​ beta-ed for me, so thanks to them

Read on Ao3

-The opening of the Will is scheduled at 19:00 this Monday in the Batcave.-

Jason stared at the message. The Will. Whose will? In the Batcave, a will was being read.

It had been sent by Barbie's Oracle number, so the probability of a prank was in negative percentages.

One of the Bats had died, and Jason hadn't been told. He’s always the last one to hear about these things.

Oh, god, what if it was Alfred?

Hands just barely not trembling, Jason typed his reply. -Who died- No question mark, somehow, it seemed more disrespectful than sending a message without proper punctuation.

-Red Robin- Came back ten seconds later.

Jason stared at the two words. He'd expected relief if it wasn't Alfred, but learning it was the kid he still held a grudge against without a proper reason was actually worse.

Jason arrived at the Cave at 7 pm sharp on Monday. He was there for the Will, not to socialize.

He'd had the time to look up what had happened.

It had been surprisingly easy.

Red Robin Death and Red Robin Suicide were all over the internet. There was a shaky cell-phone video of the hero hurling to the ground and going splat that had gone viral enough that even the Bats couldn't seem to get rid of it, and then dozen of witness declarations on diverse discussion boards.

The report he'd hacked on the Batcomputer said that Red Robin's gear had been in perfect working order, he didn't seem to have suffered any head injury before the fall, and his blood tox screening came back perfectly clear.

So.

Suicide.

Somehow Jason felt bad.

He wondered if he'd had anything to do with Repla- Tim's decision.

Dickster had told him, "Tim was your greatest fan. I saw him talking to your Memorial Case in the cave, Jay."

He wondered. Would things be different if he'd actually apologized for beating the kid up on top of Titan’s Tower and shooting him that time?

Jason knew how much having a role-model betray you hurt, and he'd been the one who did that to Tim, hadn't he? Would he have gone suicidal if Bruce systematically went after him with the intention to cause maximum harm instead of just reactively hurting him?

Who was he kidding, Jason was already a bit opportunistically suicidal even with just the status-quo at hand.

He didn't have the time to dwell more, because the big screen flickered with a video as soon as Bruce saw him arrive. (He was the last one, good.)

"Hey," the costumed and masked Red Robin on the screen started. "Seeing the probability of me dying, on or off the field, I figured I should make a vigilante version of my will. That way I can get into the type of questions that definitely couldn't be stated or explained on the civilian one that I left with the lawyer."

The Tim on the screen (not the one resting under a sheet in a refrigerated dome in the medbay that Jason had only glimpsed so far) turned a bit more somber. "I gave this video to Oracle. I figured a video would be the easier to confirm as genuine and not forced. The instructions were to get everyone possible to open it, but do it within two days at most, even if some were missing. That way you have a forewarning of my preferences before you start sorting my civilian death."

"Good bye everyone. B, if you are watching this alone because you couldn't wait for the others, or got nosy and I'm still alive while you see this, I'm very disappointed in you, close this video immediately!" Red Robin made a stern frowny face, and despite the solemn atmosphere in the cave, a ripple of amusement ran through the assembled heroes.

Jason for his part stomped down on his matching laugh to shoot Bruce a suspicious look. Did he tense? Had he actually tried it?

"So, I guess first off are my cases... I pre-made an override command in all my digital systems that will transfer everything to my old Robin session in the Batcomputer. I tend to use informatics a lot, so there should be everything you need on it to finish whatever I am doing at the moment of my death. It might be time sensitive, so I hid the transfer key in the Batcave, you'll find it under the detachable R emblem of my first Robin design in the display cave. It's a microchip, you might need a couple of minutes to find it, then connect under my old session and launch the program that pops up, it'll do everything on it's own. DO NOT fiddle with the code or launch it from anything but my old session on the Batcomputer, it'll destroy all my data. That's a very safeguarded override."

"Even then, some things are password protected. I put the list of encrypted passwords and corresponding files under the passenger side floor-mat of the Batmobile. Red Hood's Batmobile." Probably the one he boosted the tires from what feels like a lifetime ago. Good concealment of information in case an enemy got the Will on Tim's part, that.

"The encryption key is written on a post it note in Nightwing's favorite book from when he was still wearing the disco suit." Jason shot a look at Dick, who had a pensive expression on, trying to remember, surely.

"Legacy comes next, I guess? Red Robin was Hood's so if he wants to take it back now that I'm dead he can, I'd rather you didn't give it to D-Robin or any youngster after me, though. It’s not been around long enough to absolutely need to get passed down, and frankly, if I die in it, it would be a pretty unlucky omen for the next one.”

And that doused the little bit of levity that seeing a sassy Red Robin had introduced. Jason couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the sheet covered exam table.

Talk about unlucky.

One thing was sure, Jason would not be donning Red Robin again, thank you.

“The map of all my personal safe houses should be in the download with my cases, feel free to help yourselves to them or my gear. I mean all of you, no one gets to claim everything for themselves without asking the others if they want it.”

“Now my other Will also says this, but I wish to be cremated. And if possible not have all the ashes at the same place. I know it is tempting to forego it and wish for another miraculous resurrection like for J. But considering the interest Ra’s has been paying me, I really, really prefer not to run any risk of him ever getting his hands on my corpse.”

Tim looked at the camera fixedly. “I know what you’re thinking, B. You’re thinking you could protect my grave. Don’t. You’re not immortal, Ra’s is. What about fifty years from now? Will you still be able to protect my grave then? I prefer not to run the risk, so please respect my wishes on this.”

Bruce got up abruptly and stormed off.

Jason shot a venomous glare at his back.

He couldn’t even handle that? Tim had definitely been low balling that one because Bruce’s ability to protect graves? BULLSHIT. He hadn’t even noticed him vacating his.

Tim spoke for a couple more minutes. Minor things about who could have what, and his wish not to get a memorial case in the Batcave, and what to give to the Titans. There were instructions about keeping an eye on his teammates, especially Superboy, right after his death. He  offset that by saying he made a will for the Titans too and that they would know what he wanted them to do after he died.

There weren’t person by person messages for the Bats, Tim apparently treated them as a single entity, or he’d made a series of personal messages independently from the general one.

Jason wasn’t paying much attention by the time the screen went black, because his mind had gotten stuck on Tim’s demand for a cremation. He understood that all too well. And more importantly, Bruce’s reaction to it.

Was he getting paranoid?

This suspicion, that Bruce storming off might be because he wanted to falsify the civilian will, stuck with him though.

Would Bruce be that much of an asshole?

What a question.

Yes, yes he would. When Bruce thought he knew best, he steamrolled everyone to force his version of ‘the best thing to do’, disregarding everyone’s logical reasons or emotions.  Jason actually wondered if he was even aware people other than him routinely had feelings.

He looked around himself at the other Bats in the cave. Bruce wasn’t hiding anywhere he could see, but everyone else lingered, making clusters, crying, or noticeably being in the process of not-crying.

Damian was standing stock still, staring at the screen vacantly, obviously still deep in shock or denial.

Everyone else was mixed bags. They had seen death so often that they skipped entire stages of grief all the time, though for that one, Jason did foresee everyone getting bogged down on guilt floor for ages. He knew he would.

Suicides had the tendency to do that to surviving families after all.

Resigned to the idea of having to be the bad guy, Jason stalked past Blondie crying in the arm of a very stiff Cassandra and stopped in front of Barbara.

She extracted her blotchy face from Dick’s abs and sniffed. “What do you want?” she asked coldly.

“Where is B?”

Dick snarled, jumping over the wheelchair to put himself between Barbara and Jason. “Now is not the time to be petty. Tim is dead! He... He’s dead, he’s not coming back, he’s dead!”

So he was the bad guy. He was okay with it but as the one who’d gotten royally fucked by a Lazarus Pit, he’d given himself the mission to ensure Red Robin was burned the way he asked to. Being the good guy or the bad guy was not important. Keeping Bruce from disrespecting his third Robin’s wishes was.

So he said the bad guy’s thing. “Yes, he’s dead. And he wanted to stay that way and not become a Lazarus puppet like me, so I really hope I am wrong in my suspicions, but I need to know where Bruce is to be sure of that.”

Barbara stared at him around Dick, wide eyed. “He wouldn’t.”

“Right. And he wouldn’t label my memorial with ‘a good soldier’ either, then?” Jason spat back.

“This isn’t about you!” Dick yelled.

“No, it isn’t!” Jason bellowed back, agry to be accused of making Red Robin’s death about him. “It’s about Tim wanting to be cremated and Bruce going missing after the unofficial Will stated part of the content of the official one that’s with a lawyer. A part Bruce doesn’t like. How well can a law office hold up to the Batman?”

“How dare you suggest… You hateful!” Dick was losing steam. And the whole cave was deathly silent except for the unhappy rustle of disturbed bats on the ceiling. Everyone was staring at them. “...Spiteful… You!”

“Prove me wrong, then.” Jason gestured to the computer. “Tell me where Bruce is.”

Barbara blew out a loud breath. “I so hope you are wrong.” She wheeled herself to the console, letting Dick try to protect empty air.

“So do I.” Jason stood tall, arms crossed next to Barbara as she chillingly narrated her finds. No missing cars or bikes. Jason pointed that Bruce had gone up the stairs in his Batman costume. She gritted her teeth and looked for him on the video surveillance.

Dick was staring at him like he was a monster. And frankly, he would give his right hand to be wrong, but someone had to doubt the Bat, and if no one else would, Jason would be that person. He infinitely prefered being wrong and looking like the a heartless monster at Tim’s will reading, than be right but not speaking up and seeing Bruce prove himself to be the inconsiderate asshole once more.

“No,” Barbara whispered. “No.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. Shit. The pinpoint that represented Bruce was heading straight for Gotham. Which wasn’t that bad per-se. Maybe he was planning to beat some poor schmucks up to make himself feel better, but as far as disproving his fears went, it wasn’t great. (The fact that he had gone out in full Batman from the Manor’s entrance and apparently decided to go by foot wasn’t saying great things about his state of mind either.)

He stood still and silent, watching Bruce move on the map. Waves of murmurs floated around as some of the Bats left for their patrol and others watched along with Dick, Barbara and Jason.

When Bruce made it to the block of Tim’s lawyer, Jason decided to fuck the benefit of the doubt and stop dawdling.

His plan was already forming as he turned away from the computer screen and jogged up the cave’s stairs.

First, he went to the garage.

Slashing every single tire might have been a little overdone, but Bruce was filthy rich, he’d get over it.

Second were the supplies.

He didn’t have a precise idea of exactly what would be needed, but he figured he could always buy what he needed as he went. The most important tools for the first phase was cooling stuff.

He pilfered a big comforter from a guest room and filled it with as many ice cube packs as he could find in the upstairs freezer, then he trudged back down the cave’s stairs with his loot.

Barbara, Alfred and Damian were the only ones still in the cave when Jason came back down. He figured Dick must have led the few stragglers on a mission to go talk some sense into the big dumb Bat.

Jason didn’t like to put his trust in that. If he wanted stuff done, he might as well do it himself.

The trio stared at him and his comforter bag. He ignored them.

He did the same with all the cooling packs in the medbay freezer as he had upstairs.

He also pilfered half the emergency liquid Batfunds from their hiding place.

Third was the Batgarage.

He almost expected to be stopped, to have to fight his way through, but instead he was met with watchful silence when he stalked to one of the Batmobiles, opened the trunk, collapsed the back seats and spread his catch on the floor.

Then Jason methodically moved on the hangar for the fliers and plastic-ed up every single landing gear. Barbara put a hand on Damian’s shoulder and asked him to push her to the elevator because she wanted a snack.

Damian must have been pretty out of it not to see through the transparent excuse. Or maybe he was experiencing disconnect. He blinked at the systematic destruction Jason was wreaking upon their vehicles, then at Barbie, and obeyed without a word.

The Bat-tires were all a lot sturdier than the civilian ones, so slashing wouldn’t work that well.

Instead, with a lingering look at Alfred to see if he’d try to stop that much, Jason took out the Bat-impact-wrench and went to work removing every single wheel and kicking them over the edge of the precipice into the man-made lake Batman kept his marine float in.

Once only his chosen Batmobile was standing on all its wheels, he went for part four.

Fourth was Tim.

He strolled up to Tim’s body, opened the refrigerating dome, and lifted the sheet covered lifeless body up in his arms. He noticed Alfred bustling around. Still, he didn’t move to stop him when he went back to the trunk and deposited Tim in it.

Considering how the body had been kept very cool since his death (probably to make it easier to disguise his civilian death to a later date) rigor mortis had barely set in and it was fairly easy to maneuver him into lying on his side so he would fit inside the limited space.

Jason folded the blanket back up over Tim and closed the trunk. This was when he noticed Alfred in much more practical clothes than he ever thought he’d see the old man in, holding a backpack and opening the passenger door.

He stared at the old man, but when he was only met with a very flat stare, he shrugged, climbed into the driver seat and drove off. It was nice to see someone else understood about respecting final wishes and all that.

Fifth was distraction.

In the morning, once he estimated himself far enough from Gotham, Jason bought a replacement minivan with tinted windows at a shady second hand shop. Alfred helped him transfer the contents of the Batmobile, and then they left with their new vehicle.

Jason left the Batmobile in a well frequented parking lot with the keys taped to a side mirror for any daring youth to take it on a joyride whenever they found it. Alfred didn’t look thrilled by his choice, but didn’t protest either.

When Alfred asked him what he planned on doing, Jason started considering his options besides ‘steal the body and run’. Speaking the possibilities out loud helped him think them through too.

Breaking into a funeral house and commandeering the crematorium, although easier, would leave an obvious trail. If not on the security surveillance, at least in the fuel gauge. There was no way it wouldn’t be reported and investigated, and even if nothing came up from it, it would make Tim’s civilian death with a missing body much more suspicious than it needed to be.

Tim was so loyal to the Bats and their secret, that even the fleeting possibility that Jason might be too careless and accidentally harm his successor's cover made him sick to his stomach.

Alfred nodded at Jason’s exposed doubts. “Well,” he mused. “I guess humans have been building funeral pyres since the Roman empire, and they didn’t have gasoline then. I suspect young master Tim would have appreciated such a send-off.”

Jason swallowed. “Would he?” he asked, suddenly desperate to learn more about the person he’d just gone against Batman to cremate.

Alfred smiled sadly. “Yes, I believe so. He forced Master Bruce to watch the original Star Wars trilogy once.” Jason smiled, wondering how he’d even managed that feat, but didn’t ask, not wanting to interrupt the tale. “Master Tim was so emotional at the funeral for Anakin Skywalker. I could see the awkwardness radiating out of Master Bruce. It was clear he didn’t quite know what to do.”

In the following day of driving, they had to make a few pit stops to buy more ice-cubes and dump the old ones so the body they were transporting didn’t start to warm up and putrefy.

Jason guessed the result would be the same either way, but he really prefered to be able to give Tim as much dignity in his funeral as he could. And as far as he was concerned, it included not letting him start to smell like a pile of garbage.

They picked a deserted beach at the foot of a ragged cliff, hoping the relief would hide their fire from the watchful eyes of fire departments, and waited for the evening to start moving their newly bought supplies and Tim.

There was quite a bit of wood, charcoal, and acetone bottles to move over a pretty long way, but Jason was strong and had quite a bit of endurance, so he took care of it while Alfred built the pyre.

When all the supplies were moved, and once the night was well fallen, Jason finally brought Tim. He was still fairly cold, and didn’t actually smell.

Feeling like this had all gotten much more real, Jason carefully wrapped Tim in the comforter, letting a tuft of hair poke out to make the human shape look more like a voluntary blanket burrito than a carpet wrapped corpse.

He reviewed his excuse: Yes, my brother fell asleep during the car ride. He never sleeps so I didn’t feel like waking him. I couldn’t let him in the car though. It’s okay, he barely weighs anything.

Jason didn’t see anyone, but the cover story had already started to make him shift his way of seeing things. Brothers…He shook himself off and hurried over to Alfred.

Now that Tim was out, they had to make haste. Getting caught with a corpse was absolutely not desirable.

“I know it’s stupidly romantic, but I can’t help thinking we should burn him with his weapon,” Jason said, sighing while dousing the comforter in acetone. (They should probably douse Tim too, but that was something neither of them could bring themselves to do, pouring acetone on a family member.)

Alfred smiled faintly and opened his backpack to pull a small cylinder out. Jason reached for it and unfolded it.

They quickly put Tim in position on top of the fire accelerant doused pyre. (Jason spared a moment to be thankful Tim had already been cut out of his fire retardant nomex uniform and dressed in cotton civilian clothes. He didn’t voice it, though, because he was fairly sure Alfred had been the one to do it and it must have been incredibly harrowing for him.)

Alfred took out a camcorder and a tripod and started recording the funeral pyre. It wasn’t meant as an archive, too risky, but as an inclusion, so the rest of the family would be able to see it at least once if they chose to.

Jason stared at Tim’s too pale dead face.

He had been suppressing his knowledge that Tim’s ‘body’ was actually Tim’s corpse. He’d been compartmentalising, and he knew it, thinking like Tim was in some sort of coma instead of dead. Even when he’d been browsing the barbecue section of the mall for the pyre’s material, he’d still been treating it like he was doing Tim a simple favor, rather than organizing a funeral.

Because he needed to be functional, because he couldn’t break down.

At last, Alfred and Jason folded the acetone doused comforter over Tim’s body and threw ropes over the pyre to anchor it down. (Apparently, Roman pyres sometimes ejected the person placed on top of it because of the abrupt heat, and they prefered to avoid this risk.)

Finally, they lit a couple of torches and touched them to the pile, lighting it up.

The pyre went up in flame with a wroof.

Jason retreated out of the camera’s recording field and huddled down.

That was it.

No more Tim.

Alfred, bless him, noticed his somber mood and gently rubbed his back as they watched the initial acetone fueled fury recede down to a more reasonable wood and coal fueled one.

“You should cry,” Jason rumbled.

“So should you, young man,” Alfred hummed back.

“Somehow I can’t,” he admitted, staring at the brazier. “But the kid deserves to have someone cry at his funeral. You knew him, you should do it.”

Jason felt numb. The heat of the fire was drying his lips and stinging his cheeks and forehead, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, let alone move away. Not with the burnt flesh smell and occasional explosion as the heat started to pulverise bones.

Even as tears started sliding down Alfred’s weathered old cheeks, the disconnect wouldn’t go.

He was still thinking about what if someone came. What if the fire department came by and noticed they were illegally getting rid of a body.

Thankfully, no one came by for the four hours it took for the fire to burn itself down to embers.

Somehow, Alfred had fallen asleep in the sand, dried tear tracks marring his face. It had been a very long 36 hours, after all, and Jason had no idea how long the man had been awake before he came in the cave to hear Tim’s will.

Jason didn’t wake him and raked the coals closer together with a long branch, looking out for any long bone or unburnt flesh that would need to be pushed closer to the embers.

There were some bone fragments, but thankfully no flesh, and once Jason had managed to push everything closer together, he took the last bottle of fire accelerant, poured it in a long handled steel pan and carefully dumped it on, then jumped out of the way of the new tongue of fire.

One hour later, Alfred still fast asleep, he carefully scooped the top layer of ashes into the big glass jar they had bought for them.

Once it got impossible to catch the ashes without taking sand with it, Jason took out the garbage bags and started scooping all the mixed sand and ashes he could into them.

Only then did he shake Alfred awake.

They silently took everything back to the van, drove a few miles to a wild looking patch of forest and buried the ashy sand.

“So. What now?” Alfred asked, looking at the Jar.

“Now,” Jason said with a sigh, “I drop you off at a train station so you can go back home to Gotham, and I get to burying these ashes in different locations.”

Alfred smiled sadly. “It’s probably for the best. It’ll give you boys the opportunity to spend some time together. Take him somewhere nice, hear me? I always thought the boy needed to go on vacations more.”

Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Promise. Only the best places for little Red.”

Alfred looked equally choked up.

They climbed back in the van.

“Take care, young Master Jason,” Alfred whispered along with a rare hug in the deserted train station. “No matter the circumstances, it was good seeing you again.” Then he looked down at the Jar. “I’m counting on you to keep that one out of trouble, young man.”

And… Here were the tears again, Jason shuffled awkwardly while Alfred dabbed at his eyes.

He ran away as soon as the train came in the station, rather than stay for a last tearful goodbye.

“Well,” Jason told the Jar when he turned the key in the ignition. “Ready for a last adventure, Timbo?”

There wasn’t, Jason thought as he sieved the ashes into a mixing bowl to catch the chunky bits of charred bone, anything that could drive the reality of someone’s death in more deeply than having to crush their bones to a dust using seemingly innocent kitchen ustensils...

It took him a couple of hours to get the bones into fine enough a powder as to be totally inconspicuous in the granite mortar he’d bought especially for this purpose. He was so glad he’d managed to hide the chunks from Alfred, it wasn’t something he wanted the old butler to even have to think about.

“So? Do you like it here?” Jason asked Tim’s Jar.

He was aware that Tim was dead and talking to his ashes looked an awful lot like madness, but to be fair, next to the Pit madness, any other form of it was an improvement.

“I like it. It’s nice. I think you’ll be happy here.” With a small smile, Jason reached for his shovel and started digging.

Once the hole was a couple of feet deep, Jason knelt by it and dumped a handful of ashes in.

Well, ashes and some sand. Most air travel companies didn’t let funeral urns travel in the passenger cabin. Jason had used colorful sands to make Tim’s Jar look more like a souvenir decorative sand bocal than a jar of human ashes. He was sure Tim didn’t mind going undercover, he’d been trained to it, after all.

When he was done shovelling soil back in the hole, Jason sprawled next to it, basking in the beauty of the spot he’d chosen to be yet another of Tim’s graves.

“So, where to next?” he asked his deceased brother. When, predictably, no answer came, he smiled. “I think you’d like Tibet. Let’s go to Tibet. Maybe I can find somewhere you like in the Himalayas.”

Jason stared at the hole. The last one he’d have to dig after what seemed like a hundred of them (it really wasn’t though).

The scenery was pretty perfect, blue sky over a lush green mountain, not too high, and still pretty wild. It went well with the rest of his string of small graves.

With a grimace, he tipped the small glass bocal (he’d switched the Jar out for smaller containers as he went) over the hole.

A part of him was saying to only dump half of the ashes down, to keep going for a bit more.

Finally, tears welled up.

He knew he hadn’t actually needed to divide the ashes half as much as he had. It had been an excuse, to be able to hold onto his little brother for a bit more time. Not that he’d ever been much of a brother to him, except for this one last time when it mattered most.

The same part of him asked again if they did have to bury all the ashes. He could keep an ounce of them after all, keep a bit of it, for memory.

Jason shook the bocal to dislodge the last of the dusts in it and scooped a handful of soil over the ashes immediately afterward before he could lose his nerve.

It was time he said goodbye.

It was time to let Tim go.

Jason finally started to sob, crying over the too young hero. Over the little brother he never actually managed to bond with. Over the Robin, dead, just like him, and the fact that it was what it had taken for Jason to finally pay attention to him.

He cried, long and hard.

Then he took his shovel and filled this last hole back up.

“Wherever you are now, I hope you are more happy than you were when you left us,” he murmured. “I can’t remember being dead, so I can only hope.”

He looked around. “This has been fun, kinda. I hope you liked our little adventure as much as I did. I just. I. I’m just sad and sorry we couldn’t do that while you were alive.”

He sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. “Farewell, Tim.”

Breathing deeply, he placed the bocal next to the upturned soil and stepped back, taking his cellphone out. He walked far enough away that he could get the mini-grave in the camera’s frame along with a good chunk of the scenery.

He hadn’t documented any other locations, but seeing the quantity of different places he’d scattered Tim’s ashes across, just one picture wouldn’t hurt too much.

-Coming back to Gotham now- He included with the picture to Alfred.

It was, after all, time to move on. Jason definitely should try and talk to Damian so he didn’t have to mourn another stranger of a little brother ever again. (The thought hit him suddenly, that it was exactly what Dick had said to explain his much more developed relationship to Tim as it had been to him.)

His phone chimed with a reply.

-I am looking forward to your return-

#character death #cremation #relativelly graphic depiction of a cremation #funeral #pyre #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Damian Wayne #I made both my betas and myself cry so be warned

[sassiperere]

Sex Tape

Title: Sex Tape Pairing: Akira Kurusu/Ryuji Sakamoto Rating: M (implied sexual content) Word Count: 3712 Summary: futaba gets a hold of some compromising information and it all goes downhill from there (chatfic)

Fucking i dont even REMEMBER how we got to this conversation in the pegoryu discord server BUT WE DID and we semi rpd this whole thing at 11pm all the way through midnight and i was writing this thing based on that conversation at like 2 am so im actually very embarrassed but anyway enjoy this fucking chaos of a fanfic

READ IT ON AO3

GROUP NAME: ✨ PHANTOM THIEVES ✨

MEMBERS: Capable Leader™, -` RYUJI ´-, ANN~, Yusuke K., Makoto, [hacker voice].

TODAY 00:47 AM

[hacker voice]: Gee, futaba, what do you do with all your amazing hacking skills?

[hacker voice]: I leak government secrets, destroy anonymous organizations and hack into my old neopets account because I forgot the password and I wanted to feel nostalgic

Makoto: What’s that?

[hacker voice]: children’s website. You had to adopt a “neopet” and raise it kinda like a Tamagotchi. It had some really fun features like games and events and shit. It really kept me entertained when I was younger

[hacker voice]: comfort site, if you will.

Makoto: Sounds nice!

Capable Leader™: you played that? I thought it was really boring when I tried

[hacker voice]: with all due respect wtf is wrong with you?

Capable Leader™: I dunno, all the neopets looked kinda ugly…

[hacker voice]: you have a dick with tentacles as a persona and you’re calling neopets ugly????

Capable Leader™: I never said Mara was pretty

[hacker voice]: point taken

[hacker voice]: but like my point is

[hacker voice]: kacheeks

Capable Leader™: They were kinda cute but I abandoned one for a soy sauce or whatever was that dragon one

[hacker voice]: that’s it

[hacker voice]: that’s where I draw the line

[hacker voice]: you’re dead to me

[hacker voice]: I’m leaking your nudes

Capable Leader™: WTF?? HOW DO YOU HAVE THEM?? I DON’T EVEN HIDE THEM IN MY PHONE ANYMORE??

[hacker voice]: oh my god you actually have nudes?

Capable Leader™: oh…

Capable Leader™: woops…

ANN~: knew it

ANN~: @ -` RYUJI ´- pay the fuck up

-` RYUJI ´-: wtf? WTF??? WTF AKIRA???

-` RYUJI ´-: WHY DO YOU HAVE NUDES??

-` RYUJI ´-: ARE THEY YOURS OR LIKE NUDES YOU RECEIVED?

Capable Leader™: Listen

[hacker voice]: update I got them

Capable Leader™: do you really?

[hacker voice]: four of them were taken on the same day cause your nails were painted black and the other two are from a different angle and your underwear has paw prints on it

Capable Leader™: fuck.

-` RYUJI ´-: FOR REAL??

Makoto: Excuse me what kind of nonsense is going on right now?

[hacker voice]: I hacked into Akira’s PC and got his super secret dick pix

Makoto: I expected better from both of you

ANN~: Guys I’m heer im just slaughging so hard I cant se

-` RYUJI ´-: WHY DO YOU HAVE THESE?? WHO ARE YOU SENDING THEM TO??

Capable Leader™: does it matter who I send my genitals to?

-` RYUJI ´-: UH YEAH?? I CAN’T BE THE ONLY ONE WORRIED ABOUT THIS CAN I??

Yusuke K.: What seems to be the matter?

-` RYUJI ´-: AKIRAS BEEN SENDING NUDES TO STRANGERS AND FUTABA GOT THEM

Yusuke K.: Akira I did not know you had nude portraits of yourself

Yusuke K.: You should have informed me. I would gladly appraise them.

Yusuke K.: I would love to paint you too, if you so desire. I’m sure your form is marvelous to capture on canvas.

-` RYUJI ´-: dude…

ANN~: I FEEL BAD THAT IM LAUGHING

Makoto: @Yusuke K. it’s really not what you think…

[hacker voice]: ryuji are you

[hacker voice]: jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeealous?

 PRIVATE MESSAGE: the blonde fuckboy one

the blonde fuckboy one: yo futaba

the blonde fuckboy one: do you actually for real have akiras dick there?

You: YOU ARE I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS

the blonde fuckboy one: stfu

You: yeah I do have akira’s nudes for real, here I’ll send you a sneaky preview as proof

You sent AKIRA_NUDE_1_CENSOR.jpeg

the blonde fuckboy one: oh my god

You: interested in the full, uncensored ver? For a mere fee of 400y you can have it

the blonde fuckboy one: no wtf im not gonna do that to my bro akira

the blonde fuckboy one: but how big is he

You: im speechless

the blonde fuckboy one: is he bigger than me?

You: dunno need material to compare

the blonde fuckboy one: ok

the blonde fuckboy one: wait

the blonde fuckboy one: youre gonna threaten to leak mine too fuck you

You: worth a shot

 PRIVATE MESSAGE: Emo Bob Ross

Emo Bob Ross: Hello, Futaba, I am interested in Akira’s nude portraits. Are you perhaps offering them?

Emo Bob Ross: Ryuji did say Akira was sending them off to strangers so I would imagine he has no quarrel with me evaluating it.

Emo Bob Ross: Should I pick them up at Leblanc?

You: I don’t even know where to start

Emo Bob Ross: Any of them would be fine. It would be difficult to take multiple ones to the dorms regardless.

You: I feel bad now

Emo Bob Ross: ?

You: yusuke… you should go to bed…

You: you’re typing a lot please don’t make this into an art rant thing

Emo Bob Ross: Futaba must I explain once again that nude portraits have no perverted undertones and are about the portrayal of the human being stripped of all it’s factors back down to it’s core, thus revealing it’s innermost self? The true self. The self an artist so desperately seeks to represent and very few up to this date have been successful. My eternal search for the perfect and realest form has me in need of diverse- both physically and spiritually – models that are willing to bare their very souls to me. I am not looking at this experience as a lustful, carnal desire. I would never dare take advantage of someone who has been brave enough to let me gaze upon their being so intimately for the sake of art. We have been through this. I have been through this with several people, in actuality, I’m starting to get a little tired of explaining this over and over again but for the sake of deconstruction of societal standards that block my advancement in the unexplored road to artistic perfection I will gladly do so.

You: holy shit

You: im sorry yusuke but its 1 am im just skimming through this

You: the thing is not that I doubt your passion to your study of the arts

You: the thing is that what I have… is not art…

Emo Bob Ross: I’ll be the judge of that

Emo Bob Ross: Not to offend you but I have a trained eye

You: you know what

You: do you have 400y? For that much you can have the digital copy. Physical copy is gonna be at least 600 depending on the material

Emo Bob Ross: I’m low on cash but I’ll keep you in mind if I manage to rake in the money.

 GROUP NAME: ✨ PHANTOM THIEVES ✨

[hacker voice]: @Capable Leader™ lets make a deal

[hacker voice]: give me a copy of every nude you make willingly and I wont leak these

Capable Leader™: why tf would I do that

[hacker voice]: cause your dick is magical and I’ll split the spoils 20/80

Makoto: Stop this at once. There’s no way this deal is good news. Akira knows this.

Capable Leader™: I demand at LEAST 50/50

Makoto: AKIRA

[hacker voice]: I deserve more?? I’m doing ALL the work?

Capable Leader™: It’s MY dick??

-` RYUJI ´-: he’s right tho… the dick is like 90% of a man’s identity…

ANN~: Whats the other 10%?

-` RYUJI ´-: the balls

ANN~: I’m sorry I asked

[hacker voice] 40/60 is the MAX im willing to go and that’s me being GENEROUS because I recognize you have magic juju dick pix that already fished in two possible buyers

[hacker voice]: and also youre my friend and I love you

-` RYUJI ´-: I never said I’d buy it???

[hacker voice]: sigh

Capable Leader™: Ryuji…

-` RYUJI ´-: UH

Capable Leader™: Bro…

-` RYUJI ´-: I MEAN

Capable Leader™: If you wanted my nudes…

-` RYUJI ´-: I ALSO ENVER SAID I ASKED FUTABA FOR THEM DON’T GET THE WRONG IDEA

Capable Leader™: You just had to ask…

-` RYUJI ´-: LISTEN I JUST WANTED TO KNOW IF YOU WERE BIGGER THAN ME THAT’S A MAN THING

-` RYUJI ´-: wait really

ANN~: omfg

Makoto: I feel like this conversation is about to get very intimate

Yusuke K.: I would like to request permission to ask for your nudes as well, Akira

Capable Leader™: oh

Capable Leader™: well that’s a surprising turn of events

Yusuke K.: I fail to see how that surprises you considering you know how I am a fan of the erotica genre and it’s artistic disposition to strip a human bare to it’s very core.

-` RYUJI ´-: no dude…

-` RYUJI ´-: like this is not the nude art thing you keep talking about...

-` RYUJI ´-: this is like

Capable Leader™: (implying I’m not art)

[hacker voice]: touché

-` RYUJI ´-: a dick pic

-` RYUJI ´-: like its just a picture of his dick taken with his phone camera that’s it

Yusuke K.: Well, anything can be art! Art is subjective! I would like to evaluate the photograph!

-` RYUJI ´-: LISTEN MAN, AKIRA DIDN’T TAKE THAT PICTURE TO BE ARTSY, TRUST ME.

Makoto: Yusuke I strongly advise against this

Makoto: If anyone online offers to send you “a nude” please do not accept it…

Yusuke K.: It does intrigue me why anyone would simply want a picture of someone else’s genitalia when you could get the full view…

Makoto: remain intrigued

Makoto: not everything in life needs to be understood

Capable Leader™: Hey Futaba, I accept payment in Ryuji’s nudes as well

[hacker voice]: the contract has been sealed

-` RYUJI ´-: WTF AKIRA

-` RYUJI ´-: I DIDN’T CONSENT TO THIS

Capable Leader™: Come on, Ryuji… my bro…

Capable Leader™: This is just a bro thing…

Capable Leader™: Whomst amongst us never seen their best bro’s dick?

Capable Leader™: You’re my best bro, Ryuji… I wanna get to know every part of you…

Makoto: this is a public chat

[hacker voice]: gross

Capable Leader™: The very deep and intimate connection between two bros is nothing to hide, Makoto…

ANN~: You should hang out and deepen your bond

[hacker voice]: don’t think I don’t know what youre doing ann, that’s cheating

ANN~: ;)

-` RYUJI ´-: bro…

-` RYUJI ´-: If you wanted MY nudes bro…

-` RYUJI ´-: you could have just asked, bro….

Makoto: I can’t believe this is a thing that is happening right now

ANN~: ive turned off the TV this group chat is too lit for me to take my eyes off it

Makoto: it’s 2 am we should prepare to bed

Capable Leader™: [MESSAGE DELETED]

[hacker voice]: FUCK

ANN~: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSS IM RAKING IT IN TONIIIIIIIIIIIGHT

ANN~: WAIT WHAT

Capable Leader™: what? I didn’t delete that?

ANN~: FUTABA THATS CHEATING!!

[hacker voice]: YOU CHEATED FIRST! YOU INSTIGATED HIM!

ANN~: I INSTIGATED THE IDEA BUT NOT WHO WOULD BE SAYING IT???

[hacker voice]: HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

ANN~: SAY IT AGAIN AKIRA

Capable Leader™: @ -` RYUJI ´- come over

[hacker voice]: I hate that im partially to blame for this

-` RYUJI ´-: woah akira

ANN~: no bitch no matter how this conversation went it would end the same way cause im ALWAYS RIGHT

ANN~: I’m making it rain Monday morning. I’m taking Shiho to that fancy cake place she wanted to go.

-` RYUJI ´-: isn’t it kinda late for that??

Capable Leader™: I’m alone and Boss doesn’t open shop tomorrow

Capable Leader™: I can show you the goods myself

Capable Leader™: You know?

-` RYUJI ´-: SDSDMX,X CM SALÇ DAÇSD

-` RYUJI ´-: DID YOUJUST BOOTY CALL ME??

Capable Leader™ sent MAYBESO.gif

-` RYUJI ´-: BRO

Makoto: Gross innuendos publicly aside: finally

Makoto: It was getting frustrating seeing you two obviously pinning on each other

[hacker voice]: and don’t even talk about the baton passes…

Capable Leader™: I mean he hasn’t accepted yet…

ANN~: oh he will

ANN~: he better

-` RYUJI ´-: why should you decide

ANN~: cause as your best friend I know whats best for you and I know for a damn fact you will not get a better score than akira

-` RYUJI ´-: thanks I love you too

ANN~: FUCKING LOOK AT HIM! HE’S OFFERING HIMSELF ON A SILVER PLATTER!

-` RYUJI ´-: THIS IS REALLY AWKWARD FOR ME MAN…

ANN~: don’t embarrass yourself in front of your crush like that

Capable Leader™: I like when they get shy

ANN~: oh my god youre such a slut

Capable Leader™: ;)

-` RYUJI ´-: bro…

ANN~: WHAT ARE YOU DOING STILL IN THE CHATROOM GO ANSWER THE GOD DAMNED BOOTY CALL ALREADY

-` RYUJI ´-: IM REALLY NERVOUS OK

ANN~: RYUJI YOU USELESS BISEXUAL

-` RYUJI ´-: GDI

Capable Leader™: you don’t have to come for real it was just a joke

ANN~:  wait really?

Capable Leader™: @ -` RYUJI ´-

Capable Leader™: wait is he actually coming??

[hacker voice]: yeah he left 5 mins I traced his phone rn

Capable Leader™: oh fuck…..

ANN~: was it actually a joke??

Capable Leader™: No I just didn’t think I’d actually get this far??

ANN~: YOURE BOTH USELESS BISEXUALS AND I HATE YOU

Yusuke K.: Akira may I join you both? If you’re willing to model for me I will certainly not pass on this opportunity

Makoto: Please don’t.

Capable Leader™: oh my god yusuke

Capable Leader™: not today

Capable Leader™: maybe some other day

Capable Leader™: wink wink

Yusuke K.: I understand. Take all the time you need but please consider my request.

[hacker voice]: I can’t believe Ryuji’s about to get the succ

[hacker voice]: according to my gps ryuji should already be at leblanc??

Capable Leader™: oh he’s here alright. Just nervously prancing in front of my front door.

Capable Leader™: I haven’t called to him yet, let a man be ready

Capable Leader™: (I also don’t know if im fully ready so…)

ANN~: oh grl you got this

ANN~: you’ve been training all your life for this

ANN~: besides its not like hes gonna know the difference between a good bj and a bad bj lol

Capable Leader™: youre right

Capable Leader™: but I also you know, care about him a lot

Capable Leader™: I wanna make this a good experience cause I care about ryuji a lot… like in a very gay way…

ANN~: Aww!! :)

Makoto: I want to take no part in this conversation but that was adorable

ANN~: srsly im talking to ryuji rn on private and hes freaking out cause of the same thing

ANN~: wants it to be really good to you bc he loves you sm and youre so hot and hes already semi just thinking abt you

Capable Leader™: I’m flattered

ANN~: he’s super overwhelmed cause its his first time and with a boy he loves so like admsadsa damn ryuji youre so cute

ANN~: almost makes my cold blooded bitch heart feel something

Capable Leader™: I’ll give him all the time he needs!

ANN~: you should really open the door for him and at least put him inside cause its cold and there was a robbery in your street earlier this week

ANN~: and you know ryuji hell stubbornly stand in front of that store until the sun comes up if hes wallowing in nerves

Capable Leader™: youre right…

Capable Leader™: im gonna go do that…

Capable Leader™: @[hacker voice] if you have any cameras in my room turn them off!

[hacker voice]: for how much?

Capable Leader™: FUTABA, PLEASE.

[hacker voice]: calm down theyre already off. Havent been on since we became friends.

[hacker voice]: just thought youd like to have your fond memories engraved on tape for your enjoyment…

Capable Leader™: …

Capable Leader™: that’s… tempting

Makoto: are you out of your mind??

ANN~: YOU’RE SUCH A SLUT, AKIRA

Makoto: God, you’re hopeless. At least talk it over with Ryuji first.

Capable Leader™: I just did. He’s cool with it.

Makoto: Somehow I feel like this is an oversimplification of the conversation.

Capable Leader™ changed his username to Tapable Leader <3

Tapable Leader <3 changed the group name to AKIRA & RYUJI’S SEX TAPE

Makoto: I’m leaving.

Makoto: Only talk to me when you want to group up from now on.

-` RYUJI ´-: I ONLY AGREED WITH IT IF ONLY ME AND AKIRA GET A COPY!!

-` RYUJI ´-: ITS ONLY FAIR CONSIDERING YOU’RE ALREADY SELLING AKIRA’S NUDES!!

[hacker voice]: I’ll make three copies of the sex tape

[hacker voice]: 600y each

[hacker voice]: first come first serve

[hacker voice]: no reservations

[hacker voice]: you show me the money the tape is yours

[hacker voice]: those are my terms

Tapable Leader <3: even if Ryuji and I get copies there’ll still be one in the wild for someone to buy?

ANN~: isn’t that thrilling tho

ANN~: one other stranger youll never know about can be watching you

ANN~: and if futaba agrees to take down any reuploads of the tape its like your very own secret but like… shared with a stranger… that’s a kink isn’t it??

[hacker voice]: yure right…

Tapable Leader <3: holy shit

Makoto: This is so irresponsible…

[hacker voice]: thought you wanted no part in this?

Makoto: I can’t simply not take part. You guys are worse unsupervised…

Tapable Leader <3: Futaba, it’s a deal if mine and Ryuji’s copies are free of charge

[hacker voice]: fair enough

Tapable Leader <3: nice. We’re going upstairs now.

[hacker voice]: camera’s ready!

ANN~: lmao I cant believe this is actually happening

Makoto: so much for reputable thieves…

Makoto: I swear if this sex tape leaks and we get found out because of it…

Makoto: What’s worse! Akira’s on probation! That will most definitely spell trouble for him depending on who gets their hands on this tape!

ANN~: Guess we have no choice but to buy it ourselves!

Makoto: Or don’t do the sex tape?! At all?!

ANN~: Nothing’s gonna happen, Makoto! Chillax!

ANN~: How can they possibly trace a video of Akira sucking Ryuji off back to the phantom thieves?

ANN~: What kind of evidence even is this?

[hacker voice]: Akira’s jacked??? I didn’t know he worked out that much??

ANN~: he looks really skinny right?

ANN~: did ryuji come with his stupid neon pink and green watermelon bullshit panties?

[hacker voice]: they stopped to talk rn

[hacker voice]: ryujis like flipping

[hacker voice]: asking if akira had done this before

[hacker voice]: apparently akira has sucked “some dicks”

[hacker voice]: AT LEAST TWO ARE FROM HIS CLASS

Makoto: Do you really need to keep us updated?

ANN~: yes

Makoto: sigh

[hacker voice]: @ANN~ ryuji’s wearing the pink underwear

ANN~: god I hate those

ANN~: @Tapable Leader <3 burn them when youre done

[hacker voice]: I hate doing this. This is just like when you’re watching a movie and there’s a unnecessary kissing scene and the entire scene is like 3 minutes of uncomfortable schlepping kissing noises.

ANN~: yeah that must be pretty awkward

[hacker voice]: it is super awkward. Akira owes me one

[hacker voice]: oh my god

[hacker voice]: ryuji scared the crap outta me he legit screamed right now

[hacker voice]: I don’t even need mics for this ryuji’s so loud

ANN~: whaaat? Ryuji? Loud?? Who would have thought…

-` RYUJI ´-: IM SORRY OK IM REALLY LIVID HERE

ANN~: WTF???? WHAT AR EYOU DOING TEXTING US???

-` RYUJI ´-: IDK WHAT TO DO WITH MY HANDS!!

ANN~: YOURE USELESS. I CANT BELIEVE YOU.

Tapable Leader <3: you can pull my hair, its fine

ANN~: HOW ARE YOU TEXTING EVEN??

Makoto: It’s been a while since we got an update.

[hacker voice]: do you want em?

Makoto: No, I simply worry how long this is lasting.

[hacker voice]: it’s gotten to a really graphic point. I’m not even watching anymore, its really really awkward… if you want the full juice you’ll have to buy the tape!

[hacker voice]: oh theyre done

[hacker voice]: they just threw the dirty clothes on the floor and went straight to sleep

[hacker voice]: orgasming must be really tiring…

ANN~: @Tapable Leader <3 @-` RYUJI ´- CONGRATS ON THE SECS!! We’re all really happy for you!! You guys deserve each other, really! If anyone says otherwise I’ll punch them!

Makoto: @Tapable Leader <3 @-` RYUJI ´- regardless of how reckless and utterly stupid this whole thing was, I’m genuinely glad you guys worked it out and are finally being honest with each other. It was awfully unhealthy for the team dynamic to watch you two dance around the issue of your attraction so, congratulations!

[hacker voice]: @Tapable Leader <3 @-` RYUJI ´- im not as good with expressing things as the other girls but im also happy I somehow brought you two together. Don’t worry I wont actually sell the sex tapes to anyone btw

[hacker voice]: (or will i)

ANN~: omfg

[hacker voice]: Yusuke’s typing a lot im concerned

Yusuke K.: I did not fully grasp the concept of what was truly going on in this chat tonight but after extensive research and questioning Ann on certain topics I now understand. Futaba’s attempts at prostituting Akira have somehow led into a nuptial encounter between Akira and Ryuji, the kind of which both parties have been secretly interested in for a long time. I also congratulate you both in your achievement for the act of intimacy born from fondness and admiration is one of the truest forms of adoration our kind have come across. I only wish for more of these enjoyable moments and if any of you would be so kind as to model for me the most beautiful sensation of your endless love I would be very thankful.

[hacker voice]: holy shit

[hacker voice]: just looking at this is making my eyes heavy

[hacker voice]: im going to sleep folks

ANN~: same

ANN~: we have to wake up before ryuji and akira to surprise them at leblanc

ANN~: we’ll bring a congrats on the sex cake

[hacker voice]: I’m in

Makoto: guess it won’t hurt to check on them

Yusuke K.: I would love to discuss this over some cake!

ANN~: deal, then! Good night, thieves <3

-` RYUJI ´-: you fuckers are gonna see some dicks

ANN~: that’s the plan dapper dan

ANN~: now go to bed!

thx for your time i hope you enjoyed it ideas that we did in the rp and i couldnt find a way to put here: > futaba leaks the nudes on the phan site > mishima warns akira of the thing and says he has a nice package > akira gets arrested for publicly posting pornography and akechi recognized him by the dick > "whats wrong with a little dick pic" "its not little" > makoto buys a copy of the akira/ryuji sex tape and resells it at school > mishima buys a copy

#pegoryu #akiji #p5 #persona 5 #akira kurusu #takamaki ann #niijima makoto #yusuke kitagawa #akira/ryuji #futaba sakura #sassi do the write

[ladywolfmd]

You can take my breath away

Summary: "You can take my breath away...or you know, give it back."Jon hated jet skiing or any water sport for that matter. But this year, the Targaryens chose to spend their long weekend at one of the resorts at the Trident. Forced to try the sport, he gets expectedly wiped out much to his horror but the next thing he sees is a flash of white and a blaze of red and sudden warm lips covering his own. Also on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11772489

This is a bad idea.

That's what Jon Targaryen thought before he was dragged into water skiing.

It was fine at first when it was him who was on the jetski, with his aunt Dany doing the skiing.

"I swear to the Seven if you don't drive me, I will shave all your curls off Jaeharys!"

Oh yes, he could still remember the shrieking and glaring Dany gave him when he flat out refused.

He still refused.

It was the guilt that got him to agree.

His father was in lunch meeting because this was a working vacation while his prick of an uncle Viserys couldn't be swayed because all he wanted to do was drink Mai Tais while Aegon was driving for Rhaenys using her cream colored jet ski, Viserion. So that really left him.

When Dany's fuming and death threats didn't work on Jon, she switched to another tactic. Emotional blackmail.

"Rhaenys is so lucky to have a supportive brother. Whereas I got stuck with two brothers who neglect me, one to his duty, one to his vanity," she pouted, her purple eyes misting. "I just wanted to try out my new jet ski. I was so excited to test Drogon. But I guess it's not meant to be."

Jon swiped his hand over his face then and offered before Dany cries and he'd never hear the end of it from everyone. She was the darling dragon - the highly favored, the breaker of wills.

"Fine, but when I'm driving I'm using Rhaegal," he grumbled. Making his way over to his green jetski.

Dany hugged him then and there they were.

It took some time but Jon figured out the  true reason Rhaenys and Dany insisted on doing the skiing, performing tricks and all.

It was the lifeguard.

A tall guy with broad shoulders and red curly hair.

The two of them kept winking at him, waving at him and all the mooning. But this guy, he could tell, took his job seriously. While he did manage to smile back at them from time to time, his eyes were glued to each and everyone on the water much to the girls' disappointment.

"Why don't you just go up to him when he's on break or when his shift is up? He's not going to return your mooning," Jon called behind Dany when they stopped for a break.

Dany just gave him a smirk. "Oh I know. I'm just making sure I'm on his radar."

"Maybe I should just fall and pretend to drown," Rhaenys sighed from behind Aegon when they glided beside them.

Thankfully, Aegon had had enough as well. "Alright, you girls had your fun. It's time Jon and I had our own race," his indigo eyes were flashing while his grin was challenging. "What do you say lil bro?"

"No."

His smile fell and even Rhaenys raised her brow at him. "No?"

Jon shook his head once. "No."

"Okay fine, no skiing. But how about a good ol jet ski race? I'll let you name your terms," he sing-songed.

Fuck.  That's interesting. Time for a little payback.

"If, and I do mean this, If, I agree and I win, will you let me use Balerion?"

Aegon's eyes narrowed at him. Jon never did have the best record with cars. And this one was Aegon's baby - a black and red Bugatti Chiron, that flies more than drives with its sweet W16 engine. Jon can't wait to crash it...by accident of course.

Aegon did, after all, nearly wrecked his silver Monza he called Ghost.

"Fine, but if I win, I get first dibs on asking out Val," he smirked and Jon scowled.

Aegon didn't even like the blonde doctor Jon's been trying to work up the courage to ask out. "Deal's off. I don't like using people as bets." He said more for his honor than jealousy.

His silver-haired brother rolled his eyes. "Fine, if you lose, Rhaegal is mine."

Ha! You can fucking have it. I hate water sports anyway. He was the one smirking this time. "Deal." They shook on it.

"Hurry up and get us back on land so we can flirt with the hot lifeguard," Rhaenys smacked her brother's back.

"You could bounce quarter's on that bum," Dany sighed.

"Forget bouncing quarters, I want to lick that six pack while I'm bounci-whoah!" Aegon laughed wildly as he cut of Rhaenys by speeding back to the banks.

"What a dick," Dany muttered. "Don't you dare do that to me, Jon."

Jon gave her a salute before going back.

After settling on a course, Jon and Aegon started back with Dany now on her black Drogon.

"Ready?"

Aegon winked at her while Jon just rolled his eyes.

"Okay, on your mark--ready--get set--go!"

Their dragons roared to life as they sped off the water so fast Jon wasn't sure they were actually touching the water.

"Take it easy on Rhaegal, little Jon, wouldn't want my new jet to get wrecked," Aegon shouted over to him.

Jon pushed until he was a hair ahead of Aegon. "Yeah? Well I can't wait to test Balerion in Dorne with all the sand and st--

"WATCH OUT!!!"

"TURN! YOU IDIOT, TURN!"

But it was too late.

Jon hit a rock, throwing him off and straight under the water.

The impact was so fast and great that he lost consciousness for a second before coming to again, struggling to come up but his foot was still stuck to the harness attached to Rhaegal - well, attached to the scrap of metal that was fast sinking both of them. Just how big was the rock?

He was losing oxygen fast, his vision becoming blurred with pin points of light while his limbs felt like lead.

He continued struggling for a while before he couldn't keep holding his breath anymore, exhaling one big bubble before his eyes started closing.

And then he saw it.

A flash of white and red from the surface coming towards him.

It might've been his mind playing tricks but he saw a pale hand stretching towards him.

Instinctively he reached out but he never found out if the hand was real or not once the darkness overwhelmed him.

Images.

Blurred images.

Flashes.

They came and went as he drifted in and out but they were all the same.

Red and white and the sensation of being pulled.

The next time he came to, the frantic voices of his family barely registered his still fogged up mind.

All he could see was red. So much red and touching.

He was about to choke out water when he felt wet warm lips covering his own, two fingers pinching his nose, while he also felt fingers tilting his chin up.

He tried to speak but it came out as a groan and immediately, the warmth left him and he was choking out water painfully, wheezing and hacking out as he felt the grassy bank beneath him. When he was done, his head hurt so much that he shut his eyes and groaned again.

"What's his name?"

He heard a pleasant feminine yet roughened voice ask.

"J-Jon," he heard Dany sobbed.

He felt a hand then on his shoulder.

"Jon? Hey Jon? Are you with us?"

He managed to squint an eye open and immediately his jaw dropped.

Leaning, practically hovering above him, one arm braced beside his right side, her right hand still on his left shoulder was the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Beautiful and wet, he noted, seeing the drops of water running down her face and body.

Her eyes were the bluest blue he's ever seen, he locked gaze with it. Her pink lips were parted as she was still steadying her breathing, his eyes darting lower to her heaving chest that he only needed to move a bit forward to graze with how close it was, his eyes quickly shot back up when he realized he was staring, noting instead her long fiery red hair that seemed to burn under the sun, wet and plastered against her forehead and her long white neck -

Her eyes shifted back to Dany or Rhaenys or he doesn't know, Meryn Trant or whoever he didn't care at the moment, willing her with his mind to look at him again while he panted below her.

She did and he saw her full lips move again. "Jon? How are you feeling?"

"My chest feels a little tight. Throat burning. Headache," he gritted.

"Do you know where you are? What day is it? Who you're with?"

He swallowed and it hurt but he can't not answer this woman who he didn't know why she was there. "Green Fork. Friday. My family," he looked over the relative nearest him and saw Rhaenys. "Rhaenys."

Rhaenys was crying and smiling but before anyone could get near him, the redhead shook her head at them. "I'm almost done."

She looked back at him. "What's the last thing you remember?"

He thought for a moment before answering. "I didn't see the rock. Fell under. Got stuck on the life cord then a flash of red...and a hand."

Her lips quirked up on one corner. "Ah. I see."

"C-can I sit up now?"

She nodded and leant back on her knees and that was when I saw that she was wearing the standard red bathing suit with the white cross on the chest and a silver whistle dangling on her neck.

Fuck.

"Y-you're, you're," he sputtered and on the background he could hear snickering.

She leant forward and helped him sit up by putting her arms around him, making him feel warm despite the cool water drying on his body. She giggled. "You gave your siblings a fright there."

She let go once Jon was sitting up on his own, assuming her previous position of half kneeling across from him. "My brother and I tried to warn you about the giant rock you hit." She pointed towards it and it was indeed a massive rock where below it bits and pieces of his green jet was floating about.

"Your jet got completely smashed and you were brought down by the life cord still attached. I had to cut you out," she gestured with her hand.

"You - it was you - the hand - you saved me," he said almost reverently.

Her cheeks colored as she pushed some of the wet strands on her forehead away.

"Oh you should've seen it Jon," Dany looked at him with a knowing grin. "She swam so fast then dove for you and she pulled you out. Did you know you stopped breathing from then?" She paled at that as a look of horror flashed her eyes before she shook her head. "She had to start giving you rescue breaths while pulling you towards her brother's life raft where she continued breathing for you once you were on it."

It was Jon's turn to blush as he tried picturing it then cringe that it actually happened.

What did they say about how funny the universe was? That the day you find the love of your life you'd be on your worst appearance?

Seven hells what a fool he must look like to this gorgeous woman who had to save his life when he was doing something stupid?

Why didn't he just die then?

He covered his face with his hands and groaned.

He jumped when he felt a hand on top of his then that his arms flew to his sides as two deft hands started examining his head.

"Are you okay? I didn't see if you hit your head but I didn't see any bleeding before? Where does it hurt?"

He could barely understand what she was asking. He was too busy analyzing their proximity.

She was so so close that he wanted nothing more but to lick away the droplets on her neck and lower.

More snickering in the background that he snapped out of it and was greeted by those blue eyes again, filled with concern that even if he didn't drown in the Trident, he just might in these blues.

He shook his head but the motion made him wince. "I-I'm fine. A little lightheaded."

She sat back down and nodded but her eyes still analyzed him.

Just then the lifeguard - the only lifeguard he saw before, the one the girls were ogling jogged up to her, gave him a one over before addressing his savior.

"Is he okay, sis? Do we need to take him to the hospital?" sis? Ah that explains the red hair and the blue eyes.

"I don't know. Oh you're shivering!" He watched as her brother opened his kit and handed her a blanket. "I don't think you need to go to the hospital," she said softly draping the towel over his shoulders. "But we do need to observe you back at the first aid tent for at least four hours. But we can still take you to the ER if you prefer to be observed there," she then handed him an oxygen mask attached to a small tank her brother gave out next. "I'll need you to breathe on this for every few moments."

He obeyed but he couldn't face her, feeling ashamed.

"Hey, this happens a lot you know."

His eyes shot up and Jon saw her give him an understanding smile.

He put the mask down and he swore he was melting under her gaze when he realized he hasn't even thanked her yet. But before he could even thank her, his family interrupted.

"Can we hug him now?" Dany asked.

She smiled and nodded at her. "But gently."

At once two sets of arms wrapped around him. "Oh my brother will kill me if you drowned!"

"Gee, thanks for the concern, Dany."

"Aegon! Get over here and apologize to Jon. It's your damn fault!" Rhaenys ordered his brother. "Jon, I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks now I know who gets the biggest christmas gift from me."

Aegon smiled at him sheepishly when he crouched beside him. "Sorry. I'm glad you're not dead. I jumped in the water right away but your gorgeous lifeguard was like a mermaid, she got to you first. Thank goodness we have such brave, strong, and not to mention, gorgeous rescuers like Miss Stark around," he grinned purposefully at her who blushed.

Her brother raised a brow then and stepped closer to her. "A blessing and a curse. You should see the ridiculous boys we had to ban for pulling fake drownings when it's her shift," he shook his head.

"Oh, I bet you have your share too handsome," Dany purred.

"Yeah, you were so very brave as well," Rhaenys batted her lashes at him. "What's your name again?"

"Robb," he coughed, his ears reddening. "Anyway, my shift is over." The two girls grinned eagerly but he walked over to Jon then. "I'll take you to the tent now if you're okay to move."

"I'll come with you," Rhaenys walked close.

"Me too."

Jon rolled his eyes. "No. I'm fine." He then looked at his savior who was eyeing him curiously. "Thank you Miss Stark."

She crouched in front of him and offered a hand. "Sansa. Just Sansa."

"Sansa," he tested. "That's a beautiful name." He almost cringed at how corny that sounded. Aegon agreed, cackling behind him.

Sansa blushed but brushed it off by offering her hand again. "Can you stand?"

"I'll try."

He took her hand then, marveling for a moment at the feel of her small hand in his larger one. His legs felt wobbly and before he knew it, he was leaning against her as her arm darted around his shoulders to support him. "Whoa, easy now."

Dany looked at him then and smirked just for him before plastering an innocent smile at Robb. "Maybe Sansa should take him there? Like a little break. She did just rescue someone."

At that moment Jon wanted to hug his aunt, he looked at Robb with hopeful eyes but was met with narrowed ones.

"Maybe I should. That way, We can endorse better and I'll come back right away to relieve you," Jon almost had his jaw drop when he saw Sansa give her brother the same innocent look Dany just gave him.

Robb rubbed a hand down his face and nodded. "Fine."

It was only a second but he swore he saw Dany and Sansa exchange smirks.

Sansa then walked towards him, her luscious hips swaying while water still kept running over her perfect body. Fuck, don't go there. It won't do to get turned on in trunks.

She wrapped an arm loosely around his waist and picked up the oxygen tank with her other hand. "Ready to go Mr. Targaryen?"

"Jon."

She grinned wider, "Jon. Will you follow me then?"

Where? To the seven heavens? To Old Valyria? To all seven hells? Yes! Anywhere!

They started walking and Jon was very aware where their bodies were touching.

"Sansa," he tested.

"Yes Jon," he felt tingles whenever she said his name.

"Really, thank you for, erm, saving me."

She giggled. "Just doing my job."

"Still, thanks," he insisted.

She stopped then and moved in front of him, eyeing him up and down that he almost whimpered at how hot and cold she was making him feel.

"I had to literally push Robb and order him to get the life raft just so I'd be the one to dive in after you," she said in a low voice, her hand tugging at one of his curls.

He didn't know how long he gaped at her thinking of her words. "R-really?"

She smirked sexily. "Someone's got to save that cute bum," she winked at him before reddening, turning away and biting her lip.

Her sudden shyness gave him a boost of confidence as he turned her around and pressed her to the nearest wall - which was actually a shed. "I'm feeling a little lightheaded, maybe I need more rescue breaths."

She balked at him before cracking into a smile. "Well then, I am bound by oath to del-

Jon didn't give her time to finish, leaning forward and kissing her despite the aching of his chest and head.

She broke off for air but he started kissing and licking away the droplets that were still on her neck and shoulder like he's been wanting to do since he saw them.

The blanket dropped and Jon shivered. "Wait - you're cold."

He pressed himself against her then and whispered in her ear. "Lucky for me, my savior is warm." He sucked on her lobe making her moan and that moan made him hard.

She felt it. "Wait - you won't be ready for that yet."

"I'm the peak of health thanks to you," he was panting from her and from pain but he didn't care.

She pushed. "No one's peaking unless you've rested your lungs."

He groaned and relented.

Sansa chuckled while she picked up the blanket, draped it back around him, and offered the mask again. "Come on, be a good boy."

He perked up at that. "If I be a good boy, will I get a reward?"

She pouted. "And here I was, saving your life and all and I have to reward you?"

He grinned at her then and pulled her flush to him again. "The second I get a green light, I will dedicate my life to serving my savior her every need and want."

She squeaked then and Jon grinned wider leaning down to kiss her again but she ducked quickly and smacked his ass - hard.

With a cocked brow she grinned at him. "Naughty boy now come on. The faster I get you there, the faster you get your green light."

"Yes ma'am!"

She wrapped her arm around him again while Jon kept trying to steal kisses from her. "That's it, mask on until we get there. Stop it. I need to go back to my post."

"I don't think your brother would mind staying for awhile," he whined.

Sansa giggled. "Your sister and...cousin? Are quite a pair."

"Aunt and sister actually."

"I see," she grinned before cringing. "I just hope they make sound decisions."

"Well they'll definitely make sounds," he couldn't help it. "Still, really, I owe you my life Sansa."

"Oh, stop. Really, it's nothing," she reddened.

"But you will, won't you?'

"Will what?"

He half-smiled hopefully. "Let me show my gratitude."

She looked away but he could see her blushing and smiling. "You really don't have to. It was my pleasure to save you. And when I took this job, I don't expect anything back. Seeing you're okay is enough for me. I'm happy I got to help, really."

Jon's eyes softened. How perfect was she?  

"I insist. Please. Help me get my manly dignity back."

She sighed then rolled her eyes before chuckling. "Fine. I might slip you my number. Emphasis on might."

"Or, I could drown again on your shift and you have no choice but to give me rescue breaths again."

She turned and narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would."

She sighed again. "Well, we're here. In you go."

He touched her arm. "Wait, really, please let me take you out sometime?"

She considered him before smirking. Saying nothing while pushing him inside where he was immediately ushered in by a nurse. "Sansa?" he looked over his shoulder while Sansa was mid-explaining to the doctor on duty.

She just winked at him before continuing her narration with the doctor.

While the nurse led him to sit on a gurney and instructed him to take it easy and keep puffing on the mask every few seconds, his eyes never left his sexy savior.

His heart was skipping when she started walking towards him.

"Well, I guess it's time for me to go."

"Sansa-"

She leant down and hugged him then but it was over before he even knew it was happening.

With a final kiss to his cheek that left him breathless, she smiled at him one final time before leaving with a wave.

Leaving him to groan and contemplate life.

Of course a goddess like her wouldn't be interested in someone like him.

If anything, she'd probably go for Aegon. Fucking Aegon.

But then the doctor interrupted his dark thoughts as he examined him, asked him questions, then instructed him to continue as before.

"Oh and because I know how it feels, I'm giving you this early if you promise to be a good patient for the next four hours," Dr. Patrek Mallister, his coat read.

"I will," he said immediately, dying of anticipation.

Dr. Mallister gave him a slip of paper with writings in green ink. His face broke into a huge grin when he saw that below her name in elegant script, was Sansa Stark's number.

"Must've been a hell of a rescue," Dr. Mallister whistled.

"I'm just lucky, I guess," he barely answered still staring at the note.

The doctor snorted and started muttering about 'nearly drowning' and 'luck' while he saw to another patient.

Life was truly funny.

It took taking his breath away to find a woman who both gave him his breath back but took it away later on anyway.

He's definitely going to call in for more rescue breaths from her.

Especially after he's shown her his deepest, sincerest, gratitude while on his knees before her.

He smirked while puffing on the mask.

Better stock up now before he goes...under...again.

And again.

And there he found a new kink.

Getting rescued and finding ways to earn it.

He leant back and imagined ways of getting her to rescue him again.

Maybe I'll need chest compressions next time.

Or what was that move before? Sometimes rescuers give a...wank to show responsiveness? Fuck that's hot.

I should get a t-shirt that says, "Sansa Stark saved my life."

...and wear it every time after she fucks me.

Yes. Definitely getting a t-shirt if she does.

#jonsa #jonsafic #fanfiction #JONSAFORLIFE #fuckboatbang #savingjonsnowandotherextremesports #ladymdfic

[dickie-gayson]

SHENANIGANS

DUKE VS THE SUN AND DICK’S HAREM OF OLDER MEN

Summary: After a rough night on patrol, Duke just wants the sun to go away. In trying to do so, he manages to drive Dick up the wall about his harem of older men.

Otherwise known as: In which Duke is too stubborn to just move his seat and Dick is in serious denial.

Characters: Duke Thomas, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Luke Fox, Stephanie Brown, Harper Row

Genre: Family, Humor

Length: 4k+

Other: Just a funny, nonsense fic (that was only supposed to be like 1k wtf) i tried to give everyone speaking parts w./o making it too confusing. Dialogue Heavy.

Find It On: Ao3 Fanfiction 

All was quiet in Wayne Manor as the sun sat high in the sky. Such a thing was not odd for the mostly nocturnal family. Today, however, was a special occasion. The previous night's patrol had been somewhat strenuous for the patrolling bats and birds, and as such, they were given a day to unwind and recover from the fatigue. Naturally, after crashing for a few hours, the members started to slowly rise and shuffle about, none-too-happy about being conscious, but alas, they were never known to maintain a healthy sleep schedule. There was always something more important to be done, even on a 'day off'. A day off in the Batfamily was really just another way of saying 'paperwork and investigation day'.

Duke slumped at the absurdly long dinner table with a loud, beleaguered groan, as if the sheer act of being conscious was a great torment of some form. Slowly, deep brown eyes rose and squinted at the window that let sunshine wash across the room. It almost looked as if the force of his glare alone could close the curtains. There was a soul-deep hatred one could only get after being put through hell and having to stave off the sweet embrace of slumber for more work. That, or being so incredibly hung-over and being forced to attend a third-graders school concert. It was almost impressive, really, how much it seemed that the sun itself personally offended him.

Another person walked into the dining room, loudly munching on their choice of breakfast (and wouldn't you know that's the only sound they made?). Duke was still getting used to living in a house full of goddamn ninjas. He purposefully ignored the person as they drew closer, in no mood to converse. Really, all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep off the rough night he had. That, and throw the sun in the fucking trash because nothing had the right to be that bright and cheery when he felt like he went twenty rounds with Troia.

His attempts to ignore the person were rendered useless as yet another person entered the room and he just knew shit was going to go down. No more than two (2) Bats can be in a room together without some sort of catastrophe going on. It's like a scientific law at this point. He let out another melodramatic sigh and let his head drop to the table with a 'thud'. Then, he winced and groaned again as his headache increased just a bit from the unnecessary abuse.

"Aww, what's wrong baby bird? Long night?"

That soul-penetrating glare was leveled to the owner of the teasing, baby voice. An amused smirk is what met his eyes. Of course, it'd be Jason ready to fuck with him. He was pretty sure the oldest Batkids didn't sleep. Ever. And that they had some unnatural ability to bounce back from the worst situations like goddamn bouncy balls. Duke wasn't fully convinced they weren't secret metahumans. Just last week he caught Tim trying hang-glide with one broken arm so he could meet up with Kon at four in the morning for waffles or some equally dumb shit. And then there was the time Dick walked out of an exploding building while he was on fire and just laughed about it. Duke was almost positive there was some amount of mental trauma at the very least, given all their head and non-physical injuries.

"What is wrong with all of you?"

There was no true venom behind the words; just the understandable irritation of a kid who got clotheslined by some ugly dude in an even uglier suit at two in the morning. Jason just laughed and Dick chuckled around his spoon of probably overly sugary cereal. Great, he had the two oldest to deal with. He could already feel his desire to leap out the window rising. At least he wasn't going to get beat up by a thirteen-year-old again, that's a plus.

"Before or after the Crowbar Incident? You want a list? I bet I have more problems than Dickhead."

At that, Dick gave a derogative snort and flicked some of his cereal at Jason, who dodged it. The bit managed to hit Duke in the forehead and his glare just narrowed just a bit more at the older vigilantes. Jason pointed and laughed as the piece slowly slid and plopped onto Duke's lap.

"I'm going to go out and spit on your grave."

The oldest hero laughed loudly at Duke's irritation. He had to put his bowl on the table and steady himself at the affronted look plastered on the formerly dead man's face.

"Wow, Duke, tell me how you really feel."

It was still odd, adjusting to joking about some of them having died before. But, as he learned over time, they loved bringing it up in every situation. Mostly Jason, if he were being honest. Duke was still too scared to bring it up to Cass and Damian. Cass was too nice and also fucking scary, and Damian already beat the ever-loving hell out of him once. He did not want a repeat, thanks.

The cloud formerly hiding the sun for just a bit finally passed and Duke was, once more, hit full force with the rays of the sun. His look of intense hatred was once more turned to the offending light. Without turning his angered stare from the window, he spoke up.

"Dick, call your leather daddy."

He didn't need to turn to know the eldest just choked on his food and was trying to hack it up from the wrong tube. Jason, meanwhile, was absolutely dying. Duke shifted to glance at the two. The younger of the two ex-Robins had one hand on his knee and was pointing at Dick with his free hand, laughing obnoxiously. Meanwhile, the older was glaring, face red from just having choked on Crocky Crunch.

"Shut up, Jason. And what do you mean 'leather daddy'. I don't have a leather daddy."

Just to irritate him, Jason laughed louder. The laughter seemed to have drawn others in, because Tim slipped in, looking just shy of actually dead. Behind him was Cass, looking graceful as ever. How she did it, he'd never know. Tim looked at the scene with mild suspicion, not that Duke could blame him. There was always a fifty-fifty shot that someone laughing at another member was bad. Cass just looked entertained. Her ability to read a situation so quickly was as unnerving as it was awesome.

"Why does Jason look like he's about to pass out? Did they break out the mullet pictures again?"

Dick turned his glare to Tim.

"Not you too! There were no mullet pictures this time! Jason's laughing because he's dumb."

Jason wiped a pretend tear as he straightened up slightly.

"Wrong, Dickface. I'm laughing because Duke is my new favorite brother."

Duke just looked at him with mild confusion. Tim seemed to mirror his look, though there was a bit more skepticism. Sometimes Duke still marveled at just how much like Bruce the other was. Did they teach 'paranoia' classes here or something? Was it like a required trait when being adopted by the big bad Bat? You had to be at least level 5 in either Paranoia, Nerd, or Athlete to join their cosplay group. Dick was staring at Jason as if just said the Riddler was the new fashion icon.

"That makes no sense Jason, but no surprise here. Also, why is he your favorite? He threatened to spit on your grave!"

Jason just raises an eyebrow in response. Duke wished he could do that.

"Yeah? And he didn't wear a rainbow polka-dot shirt with high-waisted jeans and dad loafers. Not to mention you had The Mullet at the time."

Duke couldn't help but let out the disgusted sound at the mental imagery. Tim visibly shuttered and even Cass looked at Dick with something akin to mild horror. Dick just put his head in his hands.

"Why? Why am I stuck with you all? Where's Damian, I need someone in my corner."

The words basically fell on deaf ears as Duke was still marveling over the atrocious mess that was Dick Grayson's fashion choices. How the man got voted the Most Eligible Bachelor and posted up as a part-time model when he was strapped for cash, Duke would never know. You could tell he grew up in a circus from the way he dressed. Not that Duke would ever say that because it felt like a really douche thing to say and he didn't want to get suplexed by the eldest. If he didn't stand a chance against Damian, he would get demolished by Dick. The guy had more fighting experience than most heroes in the business. So, for that, he could forgive his fashion crimes. But that didn't mean he forgot what he's been trying to get Dick to do before everyone derailed the conversation. Duke snapped his fingers for attention.

"Hello? Leather daddy? Call him."

Jason started to chuckle all over again, and Tim let out a startled sort of laugh, caught off-guard by the words. Dick let out an aggravated breath. Duke could see Cass laughing silently behind her hand as she watched the idiocy unfold.

"For the last time Duke, I do NOT have a leather daddy! And why do you need Midnighter, anyway?'

Everyone went dead quiet for a moment before Jason roared with laughter, almost on the floor at this point. Even Tim was having trouble remaining standing. He needed to lean on Cass to stay upright. He wheezed out between laughs.

"Oh my god, Dick. You just- He never said it was Midnighter."

Dick's face turned an interesting deep crimson, which was still frustratingly handsome. Duke didn't think it was fair, really. When he got embarrassed, he looked something like a frightened chipmunk.

"I...Uh...He's the only one I hang out with that wears leather and you guys tease me about."

Now, Duke was no expert or anything, but he was pretty sure if Jason didn't start breathing soon, he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. Being that he was too indisposed to speak, Tim had the honors of filling in for him in the 'irritate Dick Grayson' category.

"Bullshit, we keep a list."

Somewhere between the stunned look on the veteran hero's face and the surprising snort of laughter that came from Cass, Luke entered the fray. He looked around the group warily. Good instincts. While Luke was busy eating his apple and surveying the scene, Dick managed to recompose himself. He narrowed his bright eyes in distrust.

"A list?"

After a noisy bite, Luke spoke up, not content with being left out of the loop.

"A list of what?"

From somewhere near the floor, Jason managed to choke out between panting breaths.

"Dick's sugar daddies."

"Ahh, that list. You add Raptor to it yet?"

Duke slammed his hands down on the table, catching their undivided attention. The sun was hitting him just right and it was annoying as all hell. He wondered if he could convince Superman to move the sun. Or the manor. He wasn't picky.

"Focus! I'm the one with the issue here! Call up your scary leather boyfriend and tell him to bring his boyfriend here."

Dick's gaze only grew more suspicious as he eyed up Duke.

"Why do you need Apollo?"

Tim snorted and faux-whispered to Steph, who had shown up with Harper and Barbara in the time that Duke was ranting.

"He didn't even try to deny being Midnighter's other boyfriend."

If one looked closely, they could almost see a vein in Dick's head throbbing like some sort of cartoon.

"Shut. up."

Duke, in a show of almost supernatural willpower, managed to ignore them and press on with his own devastating issues. Really, they should be paying full attention to his issue. He was the new kid and this was serious.

"I need Apollo here...so I can punch him."

His voice had been so calm and serious that it actually garnered incredulous stares. Dick had to take a moment to himself out of surprise. Luke just looked at Duke with something close to disbelief.

"Wha- Why do you want to punch Apollo? You've never met him. Also, he's super-powered, my dude."

Duke gave a flat, dead-serious stare.

"I know, I don't care. I want to punch him."

This time, it was Harper who piped up.

"But why?"

"Well, I can't feasibly go outside and punch the sun, now can I?"

Dick finally seemed to recollect himself, because he took back the reigns of the conversation.

"You...want me to call Midnighter."

"Yes."

"So he can bring Apollo."

"Yep."

"So you can punch Apollo."

"Correct."

"Because you can't punch the sun?"

"You got it."

There was another beat of silence. Then, Dick decided to break it with possibly the most somber voice Duke's ever heard come from the man.

"...Duke, what, and I mean this as nicely as possible, the fuck?"

"Listen, it makes perfect sense. Back me up, Tim. You're the smart one here. I can't fight the sun, but I can fight the guy who is based on the Sun God."

It looked as if Tim was actually debating the merits of the plan when Damian spoke up. The newest addition to the batclan nearly had a goddamn heart attack because he had not seen or heard Damian come in. He eyed up the smaller boy warily.

"Wrong. You can get decimated by the guy who is based on a Sun God. Because that is exactly what will happen if you attempt to fight him, Thomas."

"Hey, all I need is one hit and I'll feel better."

At the disparaging scoff that came from Luke, Duke shot him a Look. It wasn't quite to the Bat-level yet, but he was working on it. Hey, he was pretty proud of his Look so far. It scared a few of the baddies. He'll get there one day. At the moment, however, Luke just gave him a smirk back and spoke.

"Man, you'll feel a helluva lot worse, I bet. Not only would you be fighting a superhuman, but the superhuman's angry superhuman boyfriend."

Steph piped in with a look of exaggerated and obviously fake confusion on her face.

"Dick isn't a superhuman, though."

Dick let out a frustrated growl, clearly having fallen for the bait. Steph just smiled in satisfaction.

"He meant Midnighter! I am not dating Apollo!"

"Right, you're just dating M. Who's dating Apollo."

"For fuck's sake. I'm not dating either of them!"

If Dick got any more aggravated, Duke was betting his hair would either start turning white or just fall right out. He was mentally betting on falling out. A Luthor-style Dick would be hilarious. Meanwhile, Harper figured now would be a good time to join in on the 'irritate the oldest' bonding moment they were having.

"Yeah, he's clearly dating that one angry dude who worked with him when he was a super spy or some shit."

Babs gave an entertained look to Harper at the words. She seemed to be having the time of her life messing with her ex. The look in her eyes made Duke mentally remind himself not to piss her off anytime soon.

"You mean Tiger?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"NO I'M NOT!"

He had to idly wonder where Bruce and Alfred were. They were being obnoxiously loud for being bats. Dick looked like his head was going to pop, either from aggravation or embarrassment, and the rest were having a blast. 'Nothing like family bonding over dragging a sibling.' Jason finally seemed to come out of his laughter-induced coma.

"Duh, if Dickie were smashing anyone, it'd be Constantine."

The look of sheer incredulity on Dick's face was priceless. Duke would admit this one threw him for a loop. He's heard of the tricky magic-user who sold his soul however many times. But, he's never heard of the Brit liking Dick. Not that it'd be a surprise. Duke could probably throw a rock in any direction and hit someone who wanted to bone the original Robin.

"What the hell? John Constantine? Where did that even come from?!"

Jason just gave him a serious, flat look.

"He totally has the hots for you."

Babs gave a sage nod, as if nothing truer had ever been spoken. Even Luke gave a sound of agreement. Dick couldn't help but look at them in surprise.

"No, he does not. Where did you hear that?"

"I heard it from Kyle who heard it from Simon. Apparently, during a meeting of some form where he was with John, John wouldn't stop talking 'bout how much of a beefcake you are."

"Oh my God, just end my life already. For real this time."

Tim snapped his fingers, as if remembering something.

"Oh yeah! I heard about that! It was the talk of the Watchtower for a bit there."

At this point, Dick had his head in his hands once more and looked ready to resign from life in general.

"I hate you. I hate you all."

Duke cleared his throat and waved his arms to garner their attention.

"Guys, we're getting off track. We can talk about Dick's Harem of Older Men later. I have a sun to punch."

"I do NOT have a Harem of Older Men! Where do you guys get this information?!"

The joined 'siblings' shared a look. The fact that this might have been discussed before left a look of true horror on the first Boy Wonder's face. Duke apparently hadn't been around long enough to enjoy these sessions. He wasn't sure whether he should be pleased or disappointed about that fact. Cass started ticking off sources, much to Dick's shock.

"Other heroes. Villains. Oracle. Watching you and enemies. Very obvious."

Babs looked from her successor to Dick with a growing look of amusement.

"They're not wrong. We're keeping a tally on who's in the Dick Grayson Older Men Fan Club. Fifty bucks say you get a new member in the next two months."

"There is no fan club."

Tim shook his head, as if saddened that Dick couldn't accept the obvious. Steph was having a ball needling Dick.

"There totally is. Slade's the president, M's the treasurer, Thomas Wayne Jr. is the VP, Constan-'

At that, Duke shot the blonde a look of confusion. He was still going through the list of criminal profiles and hadn't made it to that name yet. It was the fact that he recognized the name Thomas Wayne as Bruce's father that caught his attention.

"Wait, Thomas Wayne Jr.? Who the hell is that?"

Steph, as if realizing that not everyone gathered witnessed whatever fuckery brought the man around, took pity on Duke and explained just a little.

"Oh, Bruce's older brother from an alternate universe or some shit. Evil. Totally has a hard on for Dick, anyway-'

"That's so fucked up, man."

He marveled yet again over the sheer level of absurdity this family went through on a near daily basis. And he willingly submerged himself into it. Great.

"GUYS! SHUT UP! THERE IS NO HAREM OR FAN CLUB.-'

"I think we established that there is."

'-SLADE IS DEFINITELY NOT THE PRESIDENT-'

"Oh, please, he liked invented your fan club."

'-AND BRUCE'S BROTHER DOESN'T HAVE THE HOTS FOR ME."

"Yeah, cus just anyone goes to an alternate universe to stalk the alternate version of their old partner and kidnap them to keep them."

"That is NOT what went down."

"Suuuuure."

Duke really didn't want to think about ANY of that for more than three seconds, because honestly, what the in the fresh hell. How is Dick alive with that many crazy creeps after him? If it were Duke, he probably would have just hung up the tights and called it a day. He does not need whacked out assassins after his ass, no thanks. Shaking his head, as if it'd rid him of disturbing images of way-too-tight suits and creepy old men, he spoke up. Duke still hasn't gotten to punch the overly cheerful ball in the sky or its metahuman counterpart. This is unbelievable. Bats got shit done except when he needed to beat someone up.

"DICK. Bring your boyfriend's boyfriend here! I need to hit him! This shit is too bright. Gotham ain't ever this bright, what the fuck."

"Oh, for the love of- Duke, if you want to hit someone, go punch Jason."

At that moment, Damian shoved his way to the front and center of Dick's view. There was a look of disgust and irritation scrunched up on his otherwise adorable features. Duke subtly (or tried to be subtle) scooted back from the duo. That look meant he was unhappy. And if it was involving his precious oldest brother/father-figure, Duke was not getting in the middle of that. He wasn't suicidal, despite what his late-night activities might suggest.

"Grayson, we need to discuss this harem of older men dedicated to you."

Dick took a deep breath and tried to appear calm for the youngest of the family. He gave the boy a patient look that only came with years of practice.

"Damian, there is no harem, they're being dumb."

Clearly, that wasn't the answer the young hero was looking for. He gave one of his infamous little tongue clicks and rolled his eyes.

"That isn't new knowledge. However, I have seen and heard things that would coincide with their stories. I do not approve."

Just like that, Dick's calm facade shattered. Honestly, he was impressed it held for even half of the sentence.

"I swear to god, there is no harem. There isn't even a fan club. None that I've heard of, at any rate."

Damian merely gave a contemplative hum. There was that look in his eyes. You know, the look of a Bat who just became obsessed with a case. It was almost worrying because Duke was positive the kid was going to take this way too seriously.

"I need find this 'fan club' and dismantle it before they attempt anything."

Jason was practically vibrating in his seat in an attempt to hold in his raucous laughter. This was clearly the best day he's had in a while.

"That's right, baby bat! Go get 'em! They're out to steal our precious big bird."

Dick shot him the patented 'Batglare', though years of exposure lessened the effects to the smartass vigilante.

"Do NOT encourage him, Jason."

It was obvious Jason heard him, but he pretended not to and merely kept his attention solely on the youngest Robin. Tim, seeing this as a wondrous and golden opportunity to fuck with Damian, pitched in his two-cents.

"In fact, I think you should join the fan club. Work your way up the ranks, like a sort of double agent, and then bring them all down."

"Hmm...this plan has merit, even if it's coming from Drake."

"Thanks, Dami."

Jason scoffed from his position against the table.

"He only wants to join for the t-shirt."

"Tt, no. If I wanted any Grayson merchandise, I could simply go to the dollar store and buy something. I need to ensure that these...miscreants have nothing nefarious planned. Grayson often leaves himself open in such stupid ways around them."

"Excuse me? I do not. And for the last damn time...you know what? Never mind, have fun trying to find this imaginary club. And you,-'

He pointed directly at Duke, the one who started this whole thing. Duke just gave him a squinted look, still waiting for him to call Midnighter for him.

'have fun trying to fist fight something that would destroy your ass. I'm out."

With that, the eldest stalked out of the room, having hit his quota for irritation and insults for the day. Though, Luke managed to slip one more in before he was out of hearing range.

"Try not to pick up any more older men while you're out!"

"FUCK OFF!"

There was a moment of silence in which they all just kind of reveled in the shared amusement. Then, Duke turned his squint to Tim as the sun still burned his retinas.

"Hey Tim, you think you can call Superboy?"

#Duke Thomas #Lark #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Tim Drake #Red Robin #Stephanie Brown #Spoiler #Batgirl #Cassandra Cain #Black Bat #Luke Fox #Batwing #Harper Row #Bluebird #My Writing #Fic #Shenanigans

[stereksummerexchange]

Dancing In My Storm

@neaislove | AO3  

by @bellamy-hale

Teen and Up - Graphic Depictions Of Violence Rape/Non-Con

“Get up loser, I can smell your sadness from outside,” said Erica with no room for Stiles complaints or whining.

“I don’t want to,” he complained petulantly anyways. They had a stare off for all of thirty seconds before Erica was rolling her eyes and pulling out a greasy burger bag from her purse. Narrowing his eyes, Stiles inspected the bag warily before reaching forward for it, but at the last second Erica pulled it out of his reach.

“Come with me Stilinski, or no fries,” her voice was thick with mischief as she twirled and sauntered away with a clacking of her heels.

Stiles considered ignoring her, curly fries be damned, but under better judgement decided to gathering his belongings and follow after the fierce blonde.

Stiles’ breathing was ragged as he scrambled closer to the wall. His jeans were torn and his shirt tattered. What remained of his shirt was splattered with his own blood mixed with alpha and beta spunk. His lips were kiss-swollen and bloody, causing every shaky intake to be accompanied by a stinging pain from the split in his lip.

The two figures walked away drunkenly as the abused omega puked up whatever was left in his stomach. He couldn’t move, even to attempt to wipe the filth off of himself. As the seconds passed, the alley grew colder and even more miserable than before.

“I told you he’d be good, bro.”

“What omega isn’t?”

Stiles felt his stomach churn again, and he couldn’t move fast enough to avoid vomiting on himself. It took nearly three hours before he could finally move. His legs were sore, and the pang that shot up his back caused tears to cascade down his face. Getting to his car was one of the most awful walks he’d ever had to endure. He vaguely registered the sound of his Jeep revving to life as he swerved out of the parking lot. Once he arrived at the apartment, Stiles felt  numb as he sat motionless in his car for god knew how long. It was a blur as his feet carried him up the stairs and into his lonely apartment. As usual, he dropped his keys on the counter and his bag onto the ground with a hard thud. His eyes brimmed with more tears and Stiles let them fall freely as he tried to make himself feel safe in the wave of his own scent.     

He stood in the shower for a long time, not moving until he had to. He felt like an abandoned building just after a tsunami. As the water cascaded down his spine, all of his escaped thoughts from earlier seemed to make their appearance at once. His sobs became hysterical as he crumbled to the wet ground. His shower lasted until his hands were wrinkled and his skin beet red from the scalding hot water. The entire bathroom was steamed, allowing him to avoid seeing his reflection in the mirror.

It was a quarter past three when he sat on the cold plastic chair of the health room. Pamphlets and brochures about safe sex and the ‘glory’ of a mating bond and knotting surrounded him, taunting him. Every picture had a happy couple smiling at one another, their arms wrapped around one another lovingly. Stiles stared disdainfully until impulse took over, causing him to rip up a pamphlet and crumbled it.

“Dr. Hemington will see you now,” the receptionist was clipped when she spoke, eying Stiles judgmentally from beneath heavily painted eyelids

Where he would ordinarily feel the urge to snark back, he found he didn’t have the energy now. Nodding curtly, he ducked his head as he scurried to the exam room, throwing the pamphlet away as he went. The doctor greeted him cheerfully despite how early it was. His bright smile caused Stiles’ hands to begin twitching spasmodically. Their staredown lasted until Stiles finally looked away, shamefully submitting in defeat.

“Mr-…Mi…My-”

“Stiles, ’s okay.”

The man set his clipboard down for a second to glance at Stiles. The man took in his fidgety hands and rapidly tapping foot. Lifting the clipboard up once again, the doctor studied over the charts on his clipboard. “Alright, Stiles, why are we here today?”

“I, uh…I think, I think something happened to me.”

“You think?”

“No, I know, I just…it’s hard to..to, uh, reflect on, that’s all.”

“Can you tell me what this something is?”

Stiles paused for a long time, just breathing. His heart was pounding and if the doctor was an alpha or another omega instead of a beta, Stiles was sure he could have heard it from miles away. Swallowing hard, he folded his hands in his lap to try and gather his thoughts instead of just letting his hands fidget around aimlessly.

“It just happened and, uh. I…two guy ra-…they- I mean…” Stiles had to clear his throat once again before he could continue, “They forced me into sex.”

“Before, you said you think,” said Hemington, not even bothering to look at his clipboard.

“Yeah, because my brain wasn’t computing a  few seconds ago. My words got mixed up, and I just said the safest thing that-”

“Is it possible that your words got mixed up at the time of the event?”

“Event?”

“Were you at a party tonight?”

“No, I was at the bar, but I don’t see how-”

“So you were drinking then?”

“Yeah, but I only had half a-”

“Do you remember what these guys looked like? Any significant traits they possessed that could identify them?” Hemington said as he finally picked up his clipboard.

“They both had Alpha Beta Pi jackets on.”

Dr. Hemington slowly rested the clipboard back on the table as he gave Stiles the most sympathetic look he’d ever received. The man launched into a well rehearsed speech about how he shouldn’t feel ashamed, or make up lies about what he wanted at the time. How it was okay to explore his sexuality in various ways, including three-ways if that’s what he wanted. Stiles felt repulsed and almost like he was going to vomit again. It wasn’t what he wanted, he had said no, and he repeated his story with as much vehemence as he could manage, but the doctor circled the conversation back to pheromones or chemosignals, any number of things that must have declared otherwise that might have slipped out by accident.

“I said no!” Stiles exclaimed with a mixture of anger and disgust in his voice.

“And I believe you…but do you?” asked the doctor with that same sympathetic look on his face. “I’m…not saying that you’re making this up, but even if we did track these two boys down by scent, it would be two Alpha Beta Pi boys’ words against your own.”

Stiles was shocked into silence for the first time in his twenty-one years of life. He sat almost catatonically as Dr. Hemington listed all of the ‘reasonable’ options he could pursue. The man suggested group therapy or one-on-one counseling twice a week with Mrs. Collins, instead of going to the authorities with a not-so-solid case on his hands.

The doctors prescribed Stiles with birth control pills and a plan B pill for his ‘just in case’ moments.

Stiles left the building feeling even more defeated than when he walked in.

****

TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER

Holding the strap to his backpack tightly, Stiles ducked his head as he made his way through the dorm hall. A few people waved to him or attempted to talk, but he ignored them as he rushed to his room. A few freshman sat in the halls with lax, dopey smiles, surrounded by books as they squabbled over something that was most likely not homework-related. Stiles watched them for a few seconds before remembering that he had his own homework due for his criminology class. As his mind drifted from essays to criminal behavior, Stiles’ expression turned tense as he remembered the scumbag of the night. Last night had been easy.

It was probably one of the easiest nights he’d had in a long time, hell, he didn’t even have to use his blade this time. Aaron Schmidt, alpha, resident asshole, and captain of the men’s volleyball team. He had date raped Alicia McConahay last Tuesday and bragged about it to his frat bros. Naturally, word had gotten out that Alicia was an easy omega, causing her once peaceful life on campus to spiral, as most of the male population on campus began to forcefully proposition here.

His shoulders slumped in relief once he entered his room, losing the tension he always carried with him these days. He had transferred dorms almost a year ago to get a new start with his life, and this new life just so happened to include his new roommate, Danny Mahealani.

“You’re home late,” noted the other omega casually, not even glancing at Stiles as he scanned over the three laptops that decorated his desk. “I take it he was easy?”

Danny knew all about his wannabe vigilante antics. It’d been easier this way. Especially because Danny knew a bit more about hacking into databases than Stiles did. Don’t get him wrong, Stiles was amazing at research and bugging mainframes, but Danny was on a whole new level when it came to hijacking surveillance systems and hacking into douchebags’ Twitter and Facebook accounts. Besides, it had been getting kind of hard to explain why he was out so late and sometimes came back with cuts or bruises.  

“Two broken bones and the dude is going to need a nose job ASAP. I threatened to chop his dick off and he legit shit himself. It was so gross, dude.” Stiles’ feet dragged along the floor as he acknowledged his roommate. “You’d think that a big tough guy ballsy enough to rape someone and leave them for dead could handle a little surgery on his lower bits.”

Danny snorted, halfway amused and a bit disturbed at the same time. “I’m just glad he got what he deserved. Alicia is such a sweet girl, and he really fucked her up. I heard she’s transferring to a community college next semester.”

Stiles folded his clothes and deposited his knives into a small box underneath his bed. Locking it back up, he slid it against the wall until it was out of sight. Standing, he looked over his shoulder at Danny who was packing his Mac away and taking his phone off the charger. Stiles watched him curiously for a few seconds before disappearing into the bathroom. His classes started after noon, and he didn’t have to be anywhere anyways. Turning the shitty faucet on, he stuck his hand underneath the water, waiting for it to heat up.

“You know,” said Danny, almost hesitantly, “you can…you can tell me anything, right?”

Startled by this sudden statement, Stiles looked up to see Danny leaning against the doorframe. His expression was open and filled with concern, just like all of the other times he’d tried to have this conversation with Stiles.

“Aww, come on, bro, you’re gonna make me pull out the tissue box. You know how I feel about soap opera tears,” Stiles reprimanded in an attempt to remove the weight from Danny’s words.

“Stiles, I’m being serious.”

“As serious as a heart attack.” He turned his back to the older omega while he idly turned the water from cold to hot. Through the mirror he saw Danny opening his mouth, “Danny…I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about lil’ ol’ me.”

Danny nodded slowly. “Okay…I’m going to head to class, try to get some sleep.” He lingered there for a few seconds before slowly closing the door behind himself.

Read the rest on AO3

#stereksummerexchange17 #sterek #submission #fic #sse17

[digidetective-shararaizel]

Fear and Loathing in Recovery

Summery: Jason Todd is back from the dead and he's out for vengeance against those who have replaced him. Tony has something to say about that.

This chapter is a Jason centric chapter and it ended up being so long because of all the feels. I've never read the Death in the Family comic where Jason Todd's Robin was killed, but I own a copy of and have watch several times, Batman: Under the Red Hood, so the events of that movie is what I have in mind concerning Jason's death, resurrection, and fight with Bruce and Dick, though I do hint at his birth mother being a factor at some point to keep with comic canon.

That said, I hope you enjoy the chapter

Full series AO3 link

My Master List for Fan Fiction

Fear and Loathing in Recovery 2011

Jason Todd had grown up learning that there were very few people in the world that you could trust. The only reason he believed that there were ANY people you could trust was because of people like Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, and Tony Stark. Before his death at the hands of the Joker, Jason had thought he could trust them. Trust them to have his back. Now he knew better.

Bruce, his so-called father figure, had replaced him, and Alfred clearly liked the newer model better, dotting on the boy like he was the man’s own grandchild. Stark was no better. Jason had looked into the man’s travel records, and saw that he made twice as many trips to Gotham since the new Robin had appeared then he had when Jason was Robin.

It had made Jason so incredibly angry to see the three men he’d looked up to before his death so happy and having dinner with his replacement. Even Dick Fucking Grayson was there, tussling the brat’s hair and making nice like he never had with Jason. It had made the resurrected teen want to shoot out the dining room windows and have them look at him. Make them face him. Make them stare him in a face and see that even after his death they wouldn’t be rid of him. The only reason he hadn’t was because he had been watching that sickly domestic scene through a hacked camera feed in the manor from his safe house and not in person.

It just galled him. His replacement was a joke. He might have been smart (Jason could admit that the runt was a much better detective than he and Dickie-bird had ever been as Robin), but he was woefully underwhelming in the power department. It had been so easy wiping the floor with the brat back at Titan’s Tower. So easy in fact, Jason found him pathetic and not even worth finishing the job (or so he told himself). And yet Bruce and Alfred and Dick-face continued to keep the boy around. They weren’t going to take him off the street. They couldn’t see that this life was going to get him killed.

At least Stark seemed to be getting with the program. It had been very satisfying to hear him and Bruce go at it in the Batcave after Stark had found out what Jason did to the kid at the tower. Jason wasn’t sure how long Tony had known that Bruce was the Batman, but it was clear that he was in the know now. What was also new these days was the fact that Stark himself was part of the superhero scene, though not apart of any official team like the Justice League. Jason had to admit that Stark’s Iron Man armor was totally badass. He would almost give anything to see him take on the Batman, but he knew that would never happen. Stark and Bruce argued a lot, but it had never come to physical blows.

Jason was keeping low these days. Batman and Nightwing had been hunting for him relentlessly after he’d attacked the new Robin in Titan’s Tower less than a week ago. It irritated Jason that that was what it had taken for them to take him seriously. Two weeks ago they’d had their own little reunion. There had been injured pride all around after that little debacle. Nightwing had twisted his ankle badly during their first chase/standoff, and Batman had nearly crippled Jason’s hand during the final showdown when he’d caused Jason’s gun to backfire with a batarang just when he was about to blow the Joker’s brains out.

His hand was still a bit stiff, but it was nearly healed. The cursed Lazarus Pit was good for something at least. Dick was clearly feeling better since he was back out on the streets trying to help Batman hunt the Red Hood down. At least the Joker was still in traction with all the busted bones that came with having a building blown up and fall down all around him. It was a pity he hadn’t been crushed. That was only mildly satisfying, though. Jason still wanted that fucker dead, but the Bat had the clown locked up tight. So Jason had gone after his replacement.

The kid had returned from some summer trip in California apparently, which would explain why he hadn’t been around when Jason was trying to draw the Bats out in the beginning. Then Bruce had sent him back to Cali to the Titans after Jason had tried to slit the kid’s throat. If Bruce had thought that sending the brat away was going to stop Jason, than he was only kidding himself. Jason had seen the action as a challenge and proved that it didn’t matter where the Bat sent the boy. If the runt was going to wear the Robin uniform (and seriously? Why did he get to have pants?!) he was going to have to earn his place and prove that he could handle it. But clearly he couldn’t.

So now Jason was keeping low in Crime Alley in one of his few but secure safe houses. He didn’t dare patrol as Red Hood right now with Batman and Nightwing scouring every inch of his territory. All of Crime Alley’s usual criminals were keeping low as well. The Bats were clearly out for blood and it was best for everyone to stay low until they moved on.

Jason was very proud of the fact that he was able to hide right under their nose. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d been nervous and anxious the first few nights he’d heard that the Bat was making sweeps of Crime Alley. When it became apparent that Batman hadn’t found any of his current safe houses, he began to relax a bit. Big mistake. Just because Bruce and Dick-face hadn’t found him yet, didn’t mean that someone else couldn’t.

“Nice place you have.”

Jason stared, surprised, as he took in the fact that Tony Stark was standing in one of his most secure safe houses examining his Red Hood helmet. Then he pulled out one of his guns and aimed it at the man’s head.

“Are you going to shoot me, Jason?” Stark asked, actually pouting a bit. “Rude. I’m unarmed.”

“Your mistake. What the fuck are you doing here?” Jason snapped.

“What, I can’t visit?” Stark asked. “I’m hurt. You came back to see Dick and Bruce and even the fucking Joker, but not me? If you weren’t going to drop by for a visit, then I was. Simple as that. Alfie says hi, by the way. He’s disappointed you haven’t visited him yet either.”

“Why are you here?” Jason growled.

Stark sighed and set the Red Hood helmet down, his fingers gliding over it’s red finish almost… fondly?

“I had to see for myself,” the man said, looking straight into Jason’s unmasked eyes and never had the teen felt so vulnerable. Those warm brown eyes cut straight through like the Batman’s never had to Jason’s core. His corrupt Lazarus Pit saturated core.

“See what?” Jason muttered, his voice rising in volume until he was screaming at the man. “That the kid you knew is no more? That I’m as twisted and evil as the Bat says?! That I’m nothing more than some common criminal now?! Huh?!”

Stark shook his head and dared to take a step forward. Jason flicked the safety off the gun and aimed between those disappointed, condemning… sad eyes?

“No,” Stark said softly, taking another step. “I came to see if Jason Todd was really back from the dead.”

“Well here I am,” Jason scoffed, throwing his arms out wide. “What are you going to do about it, Mr. Genius?”

Then Stark moved, faster than the teen thought the man capable of. Jason was too late to bring the gun back up in time for a clean shot, so he dropped it (and was glad it didn’t discharge, because that was sloppy of him), ready to get into it with his fists…when the man hugged him.

Jason froze, unsure of how to react, before his face suddenly found itself tucked into the man’s neck. Stark’s hold was strong and hard, full of muscle Jason didn’t remember him possessing.

“You’re alive,” Stark gasped, choking a bit. “You’re really alive.”

Jason…was astounded. He hadn’t expected this at all. Hadn’t thought he’d mattered enough to Stark to warrant this kind of a reaction. The man had never been much of a touchy feely person. Yes, there’d been moments Stark had offered tokens of physical affection in the form of a shoulder squeeze, hair ruffles, and pats on the head, shoulder or back, but the closest thing to a hug he’d gotten from the man before this was the occasional loose arm around his shoulders as they surveyed their work on whatever car the man had brought over for them to tinker on.

“Sorry,” Stark said taking a step back, eyes blinking rapidly - shit, were those tears?! “Awkward, I know, but… Jesus , kid, you’re alive.”

Jason had no idea what to say. He was honestly still a little shocked that he’d been hugged … and that’s when Stark punched him right in the face. Hard . POW! Flat on his back and, son of a bitch, that had actually hurt . Then again, the man had supposedly been a boxer for years now.

“Sorry, not sorry, but I felt entitled to a punch,” Stark said. “You did nearly kill my kid twice now. Chalk it up to a dad’s overprotective tendencies, parental rights and all that jazz.”

What now?

“The fuck?” Jason growled, feeling the pit driven anger rile up again, but he was still so confused by the hug and even more so upon hearing that,that it only simmered instead of explode.

“Tim Drake,” Tony said, crouching down next to Jason where he was still flat on his back, and poked him hard in the chest. “Batman’s new Robin? The kid you slit the throat of and then not even a week later beat to a pulp in the Teen Mini-League’s Clubhouse? He’s biologically my son. Bruce may have legal guardianship until Jack Drake clears PT and gets out of the hospital, but due to our agreement I still have what amounts to parental rights. Shit, that does make us sound like a divorced couple.” Jason tried to make some sort of comment, but Stark wasn’t having any of it. “No! I’mtalking. I’ll tell you that whole story later. Right now you listen because I’m having a hard time deciding whether I want to hug you or slug you again because, fuck, I missed you, you little bastard, but I also want to kick your ass into next Tuesday for what you did to Tim. Just be glad I decided to have this conversation without the Iron Man suit nearby.”

“Seriously,” Jason groaned. “What. The. Fuck?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” Tony sighed, plopping back to sit beside Jason’s sprawled form. “I get wanting to stick it to Bruce and Dickie-bird, because who doesn’t on occasion, right? But going after Tim? That, I can’t fathom. He’s never done anything to you. Well, technically he did stalk you when you were Robin but that was because he fucking idolized you. Dick may have been the first Boy Wonder, but you were the one he followed around the most. Your death and the shit storm that became life afterwards was the whole reason he became Robin. He did it in memory of you, asshole.”

“And you never thought to stop him?!” Jason growled, sitting up. “Didn’t my death teach you guys anything?! Kids his age shouldn’t be running around in tights playing hero. It gets them killed. It got me killed!”

“Clearly I’m a shit parent,” Stark deadpanned. “Why else would I let Bruce have custody over by boy instead of me? But that doesn’t mean that I like the fact that someone as young as Tim is Robin. I didn’t like it when Dick was Robin, I didn’t like it when you were Robin, and I most certainly hate it now that Tim is Robin and his predecessor is trying to kill him. But I can’t stop him because it’s what he wants to do - it’s what all of you ever wanted to do, even now - and I’d be a hypocrite if I told him that he can’t do it when I am running around doing the same thing as Iron Man. The best I can do is make sure he has the best training, equipment, backup, and protection as possible.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Jason demanded. “To neutralize a threat to your precious son?”

Stark punched him again. The anger that had been with Jason ever since he’d awoken in the Pit came boiling to the forefront and for a moment all he could see was that sickly rage-driven green. He snarled as he sat up and was about to hit back and wrestle the man to the ground when he felt those arms wrap around him in another hug, dowsing the worst of the Pit Rage almost instantly. What the fuck was up with these hugs?! And why were they throwing him so off kilter?

“Idiot boy,” Stark growled back, a hand fisting into the hair at the back of Jason’s head. “Is anything getting through that thick skull of yours? I’m not here for Tim. I’m here for you .”

“No,” Jason snapped, trying to push the man away, but it was harder than it should be. He couldn’t tell if Stark was just that much stronger now, if his conflicting emotions were weakening him, or a mixture of the two was the reason for it. “You’re here for the boy that died . The kid that used to help you fix up your damn cars. The kid that thought you were fucking brilliant because you taught him a few simple things about engineering. The kid that got his ignorant ass beat and blown to hell.”

“I came here for that kid, yes,” Stark admitted. “But I’m also here for the boy who’s stuck in his own personal hell. The boy that’s hurting inside because he thinks that his father figure has betrayed him. The boy who is so justifiably angry at the world that he’s lashing out in the only violent way he knows how. I knew when I came here that I wouldn’t find the boy that had died. Not all of him at any rate. I came here to see the man that that boy was forced to become because of what the Joker did and see if I could help.”

“Help me, huh? What do you know of hell, you rich bastard?!” Jason screamed.

“Plenty,” Stark said so bitterly that Jason ceased his struggling. The man let him go again and began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“The fuck?” Jason breathed when he saw the white-blue glow coming from Stark’s chest.

“You wouldn’t know this because you were in Ethiopia being murdered,” Stark said softly, “but at the same time that was happening to you, I was in Afghanistan giving a weapons demonstration for the US military. On my way back to the nearest airbase, my convoy was attacked by a group of terrorists called the Ten Rings. A missile detonated in my face and shrapnel pierced through my kevlar vest into my chest cavity.”

Jason eyed the small but numerous scars that littered the flesh surrounding the circle of light in the man’s chest.

“I woke up in a cave a few days later,” Stark continued, “with a car battery plugged into my chest powering a magnet that was immobilizing all of the tiny shrapnel shards in my chest that couldn’t be surgically removed with the materials at hand.”

“Oh my God,” Jason gasped, feeling sick. He could picture it. A dark cave with low torch light and an eerie glow, only Stark’s light was blue, not green.

“I was stuck in that hell hole for three months. Do you know why they didn’t just kill me as they had originally intended?” Tony asked.

“They wanted you to make weapons,” Jason muttered.

“Yes, but that’s the reason they kept me alive after they tried to blow me up. See, when they had attacked my convoy they hadn’t known who I was. I was just a target to them before they realized who they were trying to blow up,” Tony said, chuckling bitterly.

Jason frowned.

“Do you remember Obadiah Stane?” Tony asked.

“Obie? Yeah, I remember him,” Jason said slowly. “Met him at a few of your galas that Bruce flew us out for. Nice guy.”

Tony’s laugh was harsh and ugly and it reminded Jason too much of how he’d laughed at Bruce only two weeks ago. Clearly he was missing something.

“Yeah, nice guy indeed,” Tony spat. “Like a father to me. Took me under his wing, like Bruce did with you. Only, apparently he thought I’d outgrown my usefulness. It was Stane that had ordered the hit on me in Afghanistan. He didn’t want me to know that he’d been double dealing Stark weapons under the table and off the books. It was one of my own missiles that detonated in my face. Irony, right? Nearly killed by a weapon I designed. Gave a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘bullet with your name on it.’”

Jason felt his insides freeze.

“And that’s not even the worst of it,” Tony chuckled bitterly. “After I managed to escape the caves in Afghanistan, I came back to the states and basically ordered an immediate shutdown of SI’s weapons manufacturing facilities. Stane didn’t like that. See, he was trying to rebuild the armor I’d used to escape in Afghanistan, but he didn’t have a compatible powersource. He knew about this little gizmo in my chest, realized that it must have been what was powering my armor, and when my guard was down, he ambushed me at home and paralyzed me with a sonic taser that emits a high pitched sonic frequency that attacks the subject’s nervous system and causes their entire body to lock up. I could only sit there and watch as he reached into my chest and took out what has become a physical and almost literal metaphor for my heart.”

Jason watched with growing horror as Stark actually touched the device in his chest, twisted, and popped it out so that Jason could see just how deeply it was imbedded in his chest even with the wires still connected to the inside.

“The Arc Reactor has a diameter 2.7 inches, and a circumference of 8.48 inches, though that’s hardly important,” Stark continued. “It’s roughly 7 inches deep inside my chest cavity, including the magnet, meaning that I have roughly 42 inches of total area carved out of my chest, which translates to a little more than 23 fluid ounces. A 16 ounce bottle of pop holds just under 29 fluid ounces, just f.y.i.”

“How are you still alive?” Jason coughed, feeling sick.

“The doctor that put the casing in was brilliant,” Stark said, smiling wryly. “He had to make quite a few adjustments to my anatomy, and the fact that I even survived the surgery - in a cave in Afghanistan no less - boggles the minds of every doctor I’ve seen since my return to the states. I’ve had further surgeries of course, to replace the old casing and make sure it isn’t causing more damage than what’s already been done to my body, but not much can be done since a good number of my ribs were sawed and cauterized to make room for this cursed thing.”

“Why not have them remove it?” Jason asked.

“... It’s not something I’m currently willing to be put under for. In order for them to perform such an invasive surgery, that would involve not only the removal of the reactor and magnet, but the shards of shrapnel still in my chest as well, I’d need to be put under for roughly 18 hours. And then there’s the lengthy recovery period of at least six months,” Stark said, looking away.

“Wait… are you saying you were awake during all of those surgeries?!” Jason gasped.

“Not the first one that hooked a car battery up to my chest cavity,” Stark huffed, “but, the replacement surgery I had when I put in the first arc reactor and all of it’s replacement units, including the new casing that went in two years ago, yes. I needed to be able to give instructions on how to install it. Pepper wasn’t willing to do that, so she made me have my long standing personal physician do it. I’m not exactly comfortable with other people sticking their hands in my chest without supervision.”

“I can imagine,” Jason said softly, watching as the man put the glowing gizmo back in his chest. And just like that all of his anger was just… gone. For now. It was hard to be angry in the face of someone who had suffered like he had. Worse than he had. Jason at least had had the relief that came with death, until he was unceremoniously and painfully revived. The Lazarus Pit had healed all of his wounds and removed every scar. The only pain he lived with now was his anger and any injury he got on the streets, but even those healed pretty quickly. He couldn’t imagine having to live with that contraption in his chest. “Jesus, Tony, you sure don’t pull your punches.”

“It’s not that I’m belittling your own pain by any means, Jaycie. I’ve come close to dying so many times, but never managed to meet that end like you did. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you coming back to life after all these years, but I think it’s safe to say that I know a thing or two about what hell is like. I’ve been there. I’m still there some nights. Nightmares are a bitch, aren’t they?”

Jason swallowed around a thick lump in his throat. He didn’t know why hearing that stupid nickname made him feel like he was 12 years old all over again.

“Hey! Shit, sorry, Jaycie, I didn’t mean to make you feel worse,” Tony moaned, pulling Jason into another hug, one hand fumbling to wipe at his face and - shit! Jason twisted away to try hiding the tears he only just now realized were falling. When his hand hit Tony’s chest and he felt the warm metal beneath his palm, he ceased all movement, afraid of damaging such an invasive, but crucial device. “Fuck, I’m not good at this,” Tony sighed, settling for just holding Jason, his hand moving away from Jason’s face to cradling the back of his head.

“Funny, you’re doing a pretty good job,” Jason chuckled, the little part of him that had been Robin wanting to just bury his face in Tony’s shoulder, so he did.

“Right, I feel so accomplished,” Tony deadpanned. “I made an 18 year old tough guy cry.”

“You’re right. You’re an asshole,” Jason laughed. He couldn’t help it. For the first time since he’d been revived by the Lazarus Pit he felt a touch of peace.

“Hey, I made you laugh at least,” Tony said. Jason could easily visualize that damn smirk. “And it takes an asshole to know an asshole, and a broken man to recognize another broken man.”

“Is that what we are?” Jason sighed. “Broken men?”

“Poor choice of words. I prefer to think of us as survivors,” Tony said. “Stane and Joker may have tried to break us, but we’re still here, aren’t we? And if we can keep getting back up, and keep fighting, then they can’t win. We’re more than their victims. We’re Tony Fucking Stark and Jason Fucking Todd.”

Jason laughed again, pulling back before smiling at the man.

“I missed you, Tony.”

“Missed you too, kid. Now let’s get out of here,” Tony huffed, getting to his feet.

“And go where?” Jason sighed, feeling his bitterness bubble up again. “B is looking for me and will have me arrested the moment I come out of hiding. I’ve kill a lot of people over the last couple of months, Tony.”

“My hands aren’t exactly clean either,” Tony said softly. “And please. If I can find you when he can’t, I can easily get us out of Gotham without any of the Bats knowing.”

“How?” Jason asked, still feeling skeptical.

“A private plane and an AI feeding the Bats false information,” Tony smirked. “Who the hell do you think helped Bruce install that supercomputer in the Batcave? I also helped him design and upgrade his Batmobiles. Let’s just say that if I wanted to, I could mess him up good. He may think he’s locked me out in recent years, but JARVIS has been a part of his system since it was installed. He’d have to completely dismantle and rebuild the computer and cars to remove JARVIS from their systems and even then, he’d have one heck of a time keeping me out. Oracle is good, don’t get me wrong, but she hasn’t been a hacker for as long as I have.”

Jason shook his head. “Just like that? You’re going to whisk me out of Gotham, Bruce being none the wiser, and what? Set me up in some cozy loft and send me off to therapy?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony scoffed. “You’ll stay with me in Malibu. I can get you a therapist if you want, but I was thinking more along the lines of helping you get back on your feet and used to living again. I’ve got a decent gym, fun toys, and a sweet firing range. I was looking at your Red Hood helmet and while it’s rudimentary functions are good, I think we can really make it something special. The self destruct sequence if pretty nice. Gives you a last ditch weapon in a tight spot. I assume you wear a domino mask under it?”

“Not going to lecture me on carrying firearms?” Jason asked, genuinely curious.

Tony just leveled a disbelieving stare at him. “Do I look like Bruce anti-gun Wayne to you? Former Weapons manufacturer, remember? I’m hardly gun shy. If you feel the need to carry firearms, then carry a permitted gun. Just ease up on the trigger finger. Where we’re going the most threatening thing is going to be a pissed off Pepper Potts. I kind of ditched our one year anniversary plans to come out here and hunt your ass down.”

“Pepper Potts?” Jason repeated. “Isn’t she your Personal Assistant?”

“She’s acting CEO of Stark Industries now,” Tony said, smiling gently in the same way that Jason had seen Bruce smile at Selina Kyle, meaning that Miss Potts was a lot more that a PA or CEO or whatever her job was to Tony.

“And is she going to be alright with me just crashing at your place?” Jason asked, feeling doubtful.

“Eh,” Stark huffed, shrugging. “We’re not living together, so I don’t see why not. She’ll probably yell at me for not telling her about you beforehand, but I’m sure she’ll warm up to you.”

“Right,” Jason sighed, shaking his head. He doubted it. Nobody - aside from Tony that is - had been particularly thrilled to see him. Granted, that was mostly his fault, but if they’d just gotten rid of the Goddamned Joker-! Hadn’t he meant anything to them? Why was his killer still alive? Why hadn’t they avenged him?

“Hey,” Tony said softly, kneeling on the floor again next to Jason, tapping his knuckles gently against his head. “Talk to me, kiddo. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Why is the Joker still alive?” Jason growled.

“You know Batman doesn’t kill,” Tony sighed, but he at least sounded a touch angry as well. “And Iron Man’s interference isn’t welcome in Gotham, by Batman or GCPD. Trust me, if I could, without ruining my friendship with Bruce, or getting my ass arrested, and my armor seized, I would have blown that piece of shit up as soon as I learned what Joker did to you. That’s what I get for being Batman’s friend and a public superhero, though. I have to play by the rules, which includes not killing someone without probable cause. Though, I’m telling you right now, if that fucker ever comes across my path and tries to murder people in front of me, he’s getting blown sky high. My moral standing is a lot lower than Bruce’s.”

Jason growled, but let it go. That was more than what he’d gotten from Bruce. Besides, Tony wasn’t who he was mad at anyway. Never really had been.

“I don’t think I should go with you,” Jason sighed, finally getting his ass off the ground. “I don’t belong in Malibu in your fancy house.”

“So you’re just going to stay here?” Tony asked, getting up as well and gesturing to the rundown apartment that was Jason’s current safehouse. “And do what? Take over the drug cartels? Become a mobster?”

“Here it comes,” Jason smirked fiercely. He knew it. Tony was no different from Bruce after all. “Going to tell me how wrong I am? That Bruce was right? That I’m a criminal now?!”

“Whoa, Jaycie,” Tony said, frowning sternly in a manner that oddly reminded Jason of Alfred. “Cool your jets, kid, and stop putting words in my mouth. I’m not saying you’re wrong. You’re not really right either, according to the law and stuff, but your plan to take over the underworld to make it more manageable does make a lot of sense. And in a city as corrupt as Gotham? It might just work. You can’t get rid of all crime, but you can at least make it somewhat manageable. Do not ever quote me on that by the way. Pepper would castrate me for the shitstorm that’d come up if it got out that I support a would-be mobster.”

Jason relaxed a touch at that, but was still on edge. “So why do you want to get me out of Gotham?”

“I told you,” Tony sighed. “I want to help you, Jay. It’s not like you can do much while Batman is hunting for the Red Hood anyway, so why not leave and regroup elsewhere?  Take a vacation. Get away from everything. California sunshine just might do you some good. I’ll even help you with your tech.” Tony patted the Red Hood helmet, grinning. “I can’t stop you, but I’m willing to help give you the means to be safer. I…I don’t want to lose you again, Jayce.”

Jason grit his teeth, watching the man for a minute before sighing, feeling the fight drain out of him. Now that the seemingly never ending rage that had fueled and driven him for so long was gone, he felt tired. So tired he felt it in his bones. It felt strangely of defeat. Like that moment he’d watched the last seconds on the bomb’s timer in Ethiopia tick down and he knew that he was going to die.  Stark had worn him down. He should have seen it coming the moment he found himself stunned by that first hug. Tony always got his way, after all. Why would now be any different? The man was a force all on his own and, apparently, not even the Pit’s influences could persevere against the man.

“Ok, Tony,” he said. “Ok.”

3 Weeks Later…

Not everything had been smooth sailing after Tony had gotten Jason to come to Malibu. He’d been right about Pepper being furious, but after their fight she’d taken one look at Jason and personally saw to setting up a guest bedroom for him. For the first couple of days, things had been fine. Jason was grouchy in the mornings (the kid had never been much of a morning person), but had taken to the bots well enough. He helped Tony tinker in the lab (though never with the Iron Man armor. That was Tony and Tim’s thing), and spent a good bit of time at the range Tony had set up on his property. So at first, everything was fine. Good even. It was like having the old Jason back, only the kid was older and full of more biting sarcasm and snark.

But the third night led to the first of what Tony and Jason had begun to call Pit-mares. A Pit-mare usually involved Jason reliving his death, his resurrection, and, in one way or another, a disappointed Bruce/Batman. After a Pit-mare, Jason was always seething and angry and just destructive in general, upturning furniture and throwing things because they’d agreed not to have guns in the house. JARVIS was smart to lock down the lab after the first one, after Jason had nearly wrecked half the work space during his Pit-fueled tantrum.

The worst thing about Pit-mare nights, however, weren’t Jason’s bouts of impossible rage, self loathing and destruction. It was the breakdowns afterwards. There was a lot of ugly crying (the kind with a lot of tears and snot and wailing) and depressing shit, that usually ended with Jason saying that he wished that he’d stayed dead. That he could just die again so that it wouldn’t matter anymore. JARVIS had taken to locking away the kitchen cutlery after one particularly bad night that had left half the kitchen in shambles and Tony with a black eye and some scratches from fork tines.

Those nights were becoming fewer, though, the longer Jason stayed, but the previous night had been particularly rough. Tony had known that he wouldn’t be able to keep Jason’s actions a secret from Pepper and Rhodey for long (frankly he was impressed he’d managed 3 weeks), so he wasn’t too surprised that once they saw the damage in the living room when they came over that morning they ganged up on him after Jason left, feeling mildly embarrassed, to shower off another ugly morning-after.

“Tony, he needs help,” Pepper pushed. “Professional help.”

“He needs a psych ward and a straight jacket,” Rhodey had grumbled, eyeing the turned over couch, it’s shredded cushions and the shattered lamp in the living room where there was a steak knife embedded in the wall. JARVIS had missed one, it seemed. Either that, or Jason was in the habit of sleeping with knives under his pillows, which Tony wouldn’t put past the teen.

“He’s not crazy, Rhodey,” Tony sighed. “He’s been through alot and is hurting.”

“You keep saying that, but you won’t say what he’s been through,” Pepper sighed.

“Who is this kid anyway?” Rhodey asked. “Where’d you pick his crazy ass up?”

“I told you, his name is Jason,” Tony said, gritting his teeth. “And he’s from Gotham. He grew up a street kid and has recently seen some really tough times.”

“Was he in a gang?” Pepper asked.

Could the Batman and his posse be considered a gang? Nah. They were more like a mafia. He’d taken to referring to the group of Gotham vigilantes as the Bat Family because of the obsessive way they tended to keep tabs on each other and their Rogues Gallery.

“No,” Tony sighed.

“Well he’s got one hell of a case of PTSD,” Rhodey said. “He looks too young to be a soldier, but was he in service?”

“Something like that,” Tony muttered. “More along the lines of Special Ops.”

“Jesus,” Rhodey sighed. “And how old is he?”

“17-19-ish,” Tony mused, not really sure. Did you count the time he was dead or not?

Rhodey frowned, because obviously Jason wasn’t old enough to have gone through the training required to be a Special Ops. agent.

“Regardless,” Pepper cut in, “that young man needs help. I’m proud and happy that you want to help him out, Tony, I really am, but he needs professional assistance. He needs someone to talk to about his experiences.”

“He is talking. We both are,” Tony snapped, feeling defensive.

“Both?” Rhodey repeated, eyes sharp. “What’s going on, Tony?”

Tony grit his teeth and turned away, heading for the mostly tidy kitchen. A few appliances still needed to be replaced from the fit that Jason had had the week before, but the furniture had either been restored or replaced. He blatantly ignored Pepper’s glare and Rhodey’s pointed looks at the fist sized dents in the fridge door.

“I’ve known Jason for years,” Tony admitted. “We’ve both been through hellish situations in recent times, but we’ve been talking to each other. Last night was just a really bad night for him. He really is getting better. You guys just don’t know him like I do.”

“Tony,” Pepper and Rhodey sighed in unison, but before they could continue, Jason appeared in that quiet and sudden manner that all bat brats were in the habit of doing. They both jumped, startled to see him suddenly there. That had been a quick shower.

Jason glared at them, but flashed Tony a guilty look before opening the fridge. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Hey, I have my bad nights too,” Tony said shrugging, handing Jason a glass from the cupboard for his orange juice.

Jason sighed, shaking his head.

“Wanna talk about it?” Tony asked, casually. He normally offered after Jason had calmed down after a Pit-mare.

Jason frowned at his drink, eyes darting warily at Pepper and Rhodey.

“They won’t say anything,” Tony assured. “I trust them.”

Jason scowled, but shrugged, slumping against the counter.

“What’s there to say?” he growled. “It’s the same thing every time. Bastard comes at me with a crowbar and beats the shit out of me. Then that damn bomb blows and I’m burning and screaming until fire becomes the water and instead of burning, I’m drowning and I can’t breathe and all I can hear is that bastard’s laugh.” Jason chokes, his voice going hoarse. “And I’m still screaming. I’m always screaming, always burning, and he’s always laughing.”

Tony stepped up next to Jason and wrapped an arm around the teen’s shoulders.

“I have dreams like that too sometimes,” Tony admitted. “In Afghanistan… the terrorists would shove my head under water and hold me there. Over and over and over again when I didn’t immediately follow their commands. When I wasn’t working fast enough to build them their damn missile. It was worse when I was still hooked up to that damn car battery because not only was I drowning, I was being electrocuted too whenever water hit the battery. When I have nightmares about that particular brand of torture… I wake up unable to breathe. Unable to scream because there's no air in my lungs to make a sound. And they’re still shouting and yelling in Arabic and other dialects of languages I can’t understand.”

Jason clenched his eyes shut, nodding, before leaning into Tony’s side. They both jumped slightly when Pepper made a noise that sounded like someone had punched her in the gut. Rhodey also looked pained at the admission. Tony flushed, looking away from his two closest companions. He’d honestly forgotten that they were there in his attempt to reach out to Jason, to let him know that he wasn’t alone in his pain.

“You never told us how they’d tortured you before,” Pepper whispered, staring at Tony sadly.

“Because it’s not something I want to talk about,” he sighed. “I didn’t want you to know what that felt like, because isn’t it enough that I’m back?”

“Is it?” Jason asked hollowly. “ Can it ever be enough?”

“If we want it to be,” Tony said softly. “If we choose to move on instead of dwelling-!”

“Easy for you to say,” Jason snapped, stepping away. “You’ve never died. I did die, Tony. I was dead! I should have stayed dead! But Ra’s al Fucking Gul decided to dunk me in his Lazarus Pit and revive me for whatever sick reason he had and I can’t find peace. I’m so angry! All the fucking time! All the time, Tony…” And yet Jason’s anger faded just as quickly as it’d erupted. “And when that anger is gone, I’m tired. So tired I can’t find the strength to move some days. I didn’t know I could feel this tired until you showed up and dragged me here.”

“Gotham wasn’t good for you,” Tony said softly. “And being here hasn’t all been bad, has it? We’ve had some good days too, remember? The bots like you when you’re not knocking shit over and screaming at them. Why, just yesterday, DUM-E let you use his fire extinguisher. I don’t think you realize how attached he is to that stupid thing.”

“I blew up the prototype for the new Hood we were working on,” Jason grumbled, but his lips were twitching up into a small smile.

“Sure did,” Tony said, grinning. “And then Butterfingers accidentally squirted you with the oil can when we were working on the old T-bird, and U wouldn’t stop chasing after you with the rags.”

Jason chuckled, slumping back against Tony.

“And don’t forget when you allowed him to test the new repulsor, sir,” JARVIS piped up.

Tony laughed, nodding. “Weren’t expecting that much kickback were you, kid?”

Jason snorted, his small smile now a large grin.

“See? Not all bad times. Nights just really suck sometimes. That’s why I don’t sleep very often.”

“That’s not a good thing, Tony,” Rhodey huffed, but he and Pepper were smiling at them, a warm, fond look in their eyes.

“Sleep is overrated,” Tony said, surprised to hear Jason’s voice echo him. He grinned at the teen and ruffled his hair. Jason squawked, batting his hand away, but the smile hadn’t faded in the slightest.

“But in all seriousness, Tony,” Pepper said gently. “He needs help.”

“I’m not subjecting him to anything he doesn’t want to do,” Tony growled.

Jason winced, looking away from everyone as he slumped against the counter again.

“I’m not just talking about him seeing a psychiatrist, Tony,” Pepper sighed, “even though I think that would really help. I was thinking more along the lines of something more recreational. Something to help him work out all of that aggression, instead of letting him take it out on your house and the furniture.”

Jason winced again, looking gloomily at the refridgerator and the fist sized dents in the door.

“Why didn’t I think of that? I can arrange something,” Tony conceded. “Maybe move you to a room that’s closer to the gym? We can get some really sturdy punching bags. I can program some training droids for you to fight, too. Then you can fix them up. We’ve already agreed that fixing stuff is therapeutic, right?”

“I’ve heard pet therapy works wonders,” Rhodes offered.

“I am not letting any animals in here, thank you,” Tony scowled, but noted that Jason was smiling a bit again. “Pet dander gets everywhere and then there’s cleaning up their excrement and just-! No! Ick! N. O. NO!”

“So don’t get anything big like a cat or a dog. What about something small like a hamster? Or a fish?” Rhodey asked.

“They’ll die within the first couple of days,” Tony huffed. “I’m not taking care of anything like that. I’ll forget to feed them.”

“Fish are boring anyway,” Jason scoffed. “All they do is swim in circles.”

“And a hamster?” Pepper asked.

Jason shrugged. “It’s a rodent. What’s so fun about those? Don’t they carry diseases and shit?”

“Rats are notorious for being plague carriers,” Tony added.

“Oh please,” Pepper huffed.

“Hamsters can be fun,” Rhodey protested. “You two could probably build the craziest hamster habitat ever for the little guy to run around in. And don’t BS me about the whole not feeding and watering, thing. You can program a food and water distributor that JARVIS and the bots can run. I’m sure the bots would love to help with the clean up as well. DUM-E and U are kind of neat freaks when they’re not knocking shit over and creating their own messes.”

Jason raised an eyebrow and Tony mirrored the action.

“It’s up to you, Jayce,” Tony admitted. “I don’t mind getting you a hamster if you take care of it.”

“Do I look five to you?” Jason scowled, but there was a look of consideration on his face.

“Whatever, we’ll table this conversation for later,” Tony said, but knew that both he and Jason were probably going to be looking up hamsters later that day.

Rhodey and Pepper stuck around for brunch before taking Tony away for work at the office. They needed to get everything in order before they could get started on the build for Stark Tower in New York. Pepper and Tony had managed to buy out some prime real estate that was within a couple of blocks of the Chrysler Building.

By the end of Jason’s fourth week in Malibu, not only had Jason decided to buy a hamster (a little black thing with a white spot on his back that looked like a bat if you squinted and looked at it sideways) named Batster the bastard hamster, and not only had they built the BEST hamster habitat for Batster that wrapped around Jason’s new room, it also went through the wall into the gym with extensions planned to go into the workshop. Jason’s new room had been a storage space previously, but Tony had quickly outfitted it with everything and anything Jason could need in the basement level. It became common place for Tony to wake up from where he’d fallen asleep in his workshop to the sound of Jason pounding on the punching bags. Tony was still putting the finishing touches on the androids for Jason to fight, but he wanted to reinforce and protect the circuitry and processing panels to make sure that Jason wasn’t able to completely destroy the things when he fought them.

The most surprising development of the fourth week, however, was that Pepper had worn Jason and Tony down enough to get them to agree to meet with a psychiatrist. The doc was more of a behavioral specialist, really. They had scheduled sessions with Dr. Patrick Jane on Tuesday and Thursday. They were allowed to have their sessions together, for emotional support as Pepper liked to say. Tony and Jason knew that that was a load of bullshit, but they couldn’t deny that having the other there helped. It also helped that Dr. Please-call-me-Patrick Jane turned out to be sassy and sarcastic as fuck.

The guy was good. Tony could admit that. Dr. Jane had a way of getting them comfortably talking and then somehow turn the conversation on it’s head and get them talking about some seriously personal and emotional stuff. Jason had really lost it in the middle of their first session, screaming at Dr. Jane about how he couldn’t know shit about what it was like to be killed by the Joker and then revived by a meddling immortal. The doc hadn’t batted an eye and just asked more probing questions that had Jason ranting it all out, going into every gory detail of his death at the Joker’s hand, and his resurrection, not even hiding the fact that he had been Robin. By the time he was done, Jason was drained and panting and all Tony could do was gently take hold of the boy’s wrist and draw him back down onto the couch they’d been sitting on for their session, and wrap an arm around his shoulders.

Tony had expressed with great severity after the session that if Dr. Jane ever dared to break Doctor-Patient confidentiality and speak a word about Jason to anyone, Tony would do everything in his power to ruin him. Dr. Jane had sworn he wouldn’t, saying that he saw it as an honor to help heroes like Iron Man and Robin.

Despite reassurances, Tony had JARVIS run a thorough background check on Patrick Jane and had his movements followed for the rest of the week to ensure that the man was genuine. It sure seemed like it, but Tony had JARVIS keep the surveillance up as a precaution.

Their Thursday session had been less explosive, mostly because it was focused on Tony due to the last one being primarily about Jason. Jason had no trouble helping Dr. Jane heckle information out of Tony. He even got Tony to talk about Yinsen, someone that Tony had refused to talk about, even to Tim. Especially to Tim. The guilt he felt about surviving captivity in Afghanistan at the cost of Yinsen’s life was still so overwhelming at times. He couldn’t go to sleep some nights because he wondered if he was doing enough good to make up for the bad his weapons had wrought. If he’d saved even a fraction of the number of lives his weapons had destroyed. If he’d even begun to tip the scale in a positive direction.

Unlike Jason, who tended to shout and express his feelings through the anger that the Lazarus Pit had left him with, Tony became quiet and contemplative. Where Jason was raging fire, Tony was still ice. He knew that he’d fallen into a melancholic quiet episode when Jason scooted closer and Tony was able to feel his warm living body budge up beside him, chasing away the cold night desert cave air and the cool touch of sleek machinery that he tended to dwell on.

By the end of Jason’s second month living in Malibu with Tony, the Pit-mares had become fewer, to the point that he was able to sleep most of the week without having a violent episode. The therapy and various physical outlets had really helped. Jason didn’t outright destroy the droids he was fighting either, and had even started to spar with Tony. Those were highly educational encounters for the man that left him battered and bruised in a good way whenever he did it without the Iron Man armor on. It had really freaked Pepper out the first time she’d caught him applying concealer over a particularly dark bruise on his left cheek he’d earned due to a moment of inattention during their morning spar.

Sessions with Dr. Jane still began with a “group” session for the first hour, but they now had individual sessions as well for an additional half hour; Tuesdays were Jason, and Thursdays were Tony. Jason had also started to work a part-time PA position for Tony at Stark Industries under the name Jason Peters. He was mostly getting coffee and running little errands during the day, but he was allowed to work as Tony’s assistant the days that were spent working in the R&D labs. It allowed him to socialize with other people who weren’t Tony, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy (who wasn’t so happy to hear that Jason had sort of taken over as Tony’s sparring partner). The point was, Jason was meeting new people and making sort-of friendly acquaintances. There was a particularly pretty brunette named Abby who doubled as both Pepper and Tony’s office secretary that he was particularly fond of. The woman was a firecracker and fun to banter with. She reminded Jason of Barbara Gordon.

Back at the house, Batster the bastard hamster had also gained a few new friends to join him in the monstrous accumulation of habitats and tubes that threaded throughout most of the basement level. There was Wingnut, a grey, black and white hamster, that enjoyed monopolizing the various wheels in the habitats; Penny, a dusty orange-grey hamster that was always hard to find because he liked roaming around through the tubes; Babster, a bright orange-red hamster who liked to kick Wingnut off his wheels and steal them for herself, and a small brown hamster called Tiny Nim who prefered to roam the tubes and habitat boxes that wound through the workshop because that’s where Jason and Tony spent a lot of their time together.

Yes, it seemed like everything was fine with Jason, but the real test came halfway through his third month in Malibu, when Tim Drake was coming over for a weekend visit after a rough mission with the Teen Titans. If Tony was worried about any possible confrontation, Jason couldn’t see it. He did notice, however, how excited and happy Tony seemed to be the closer it got to Tim’s arrival.

Tim arrived just after sundown looking exhausted as he pulled into the garage on a Ducati in dark civilian clothes with a large duffel slung over his shoulder. Jason kept himself out of sight behind a work table and it’s holograms, watching as Tony set down his tools and raced over to greet the boy. The bots were squealing quite happily as well, as they joined their creator in greeting the blood son of Stark. A bubble of jealousy flared briefly in Jason’s gut, but he squashed the feeling and began a meditative breathing exercise that Dr. Jane had taught him.

Watching them, it was amazing that Jason hadn’t realized before how much Tim and Tony looked alike when he’d been researching his replacement. Seeing them stand side by side, it was obvious. They had the same fly-away black hair (when the kid wasn’t gelling it down or purposefully spiking it up), eerily similar body language, and mannerisms. Yes, their eyes were different colors, and Tim had obviously inherited his mother’s cheek bone structure, but their short, compact frames were nearly identical from the way they held themselves to their bodies’ whip-cord frame beneath their unassuming clothes. Neither looked physically impressive, but Jason knew from experience that both man and young teen were capable of flipping someone on their ass.

“Hey Dad,” Tim sighed, his smile tired as he hugged Tony.

“Timmy,” Tony returned, cradling the back of Tim’s head, much like he often did for Jason after a Pit-mare.

Jason found himself more intrigued than angry as he watched the father and son update each other on their health and recent activities. Then he froze when Tony turned around and motioned him forward. Shit. Tim’s eyes practically bugged out of his head in surprise and his body went tense.

“Well…here goes nothing,” Jason muttered under his breath.

“What’s he doing here?” Tim asked softly. Jason was rather surprised that it was more weary than angry.

“Rehabilitating,” Tony quipped, “and as you know, he’s Jason Todd. Jason, this is Tim Drake, my Godson-slash-bio-son.”

“Huh?” Jason said, frowning in confusion. He knew about the bio-son bit, but Godson?

“Ah, yes, sorry,” Tony laughed. “Even though Timmy’s mother and I agreed that Jack Drake would be his dad, she somehow also managed to get Jack to agree to make me Tim’s Godfather so that I could have some tangible and legal part in his life, no doubt. She was sneaky and manipulative. You would have liked her.”

“I really doubt that,” Tim sighed. “Mother was a high society type. Though she thought it was sweet of Bruce to take in orphans, she didn’t approve of Dick or Jason because of their backgrounds. There was a reason she stopped bringing me to Bruce’s galas as I got older.”

“She thought they’d corrupt you,” Tony said, grinning. “Oh the irony . Jayce and Dickie boy have been corrupting you since Robin first took to the sky.”

Jason frowned, not sure what to make of that statement. He’d only met the kid four months ago.

“You’ll have to tell Jay the story of how you figured out the big bat’s secret and how you became Robin,” Tony said to Tim while smirking at Jason.

Tim glanced between Jason and Tony, his face was carefully arranged in a blank expression - like Bruce’s when he was still taking in a situation and wasn’t sure how to react yet - but the tension was still there in his shoulders.

Jason shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Granted, it’s not anything ballsy like stealing the tires off the Batmobile, but Tim was only eight-nine-ish when he figured Bruce out,” Tony mused in that way that was overly nonchalant and meant to get you interested.  …And succeeded.

“Kid found out about the Bat’s ID when he was nine ?” Jason asked. From his research, he knew that the kid was smart, and now that he knew that he was Tony’s it made sense he’d be smarter than most kids his age, but nine years old?!

“Eight and a half,” Tim mumbled, flushing slightly.

“Tell Jay what gave the Bat away,” Tony said, his smirk growing.

“...Dick has a very distinctive skill set, including a quadruple somersault. I saw him perform it the night his parents died,” Tim said. “Then I saw Robin perform the same somersault six years later. Very few people can execute that move and there was only one person in the world Robin’s age capable of pulling it off. So after figuring out that Dick Grayson was Robin, it was only logical to deduce that Bruce Wayne was Batman.”

It was quiet for a minute before Jason couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing, startling Tim and making Tony beam proudly.

“So Golden Boy was the one who gave it away,” Jason gasped, having to lean on U’s chassis, he was laughing so hard. “And I suppose, baby bird, that after that, it was only logical that I, Bruce Wayne’s next ward, was the second Robin?”

“Yes?” Tim said, looking unsure and confused now instead of tense.

“Oh, that’s priceless,” Jason snickered.

“That’s nothing,” Tony crowed. “Wait till you find out how Timmy became Robin.”

And Jason found himself genuinely interested. He hadn’t cared before, because it hadn’t mattered how he was replaced. All he’d known about his replacement - about Tim - was that he’d begun his Robin training 2 years after he’d died. 2 years… That had seemed like less time than he’d thought it was fresh out of the pit. Of course, then, being Robin had felt like it was just yesterday. It was amazing the perspective he was beginning to get after all the time he’d spent these last few months with Tony (and talking to Dr. Jane).

Jason gestured to the grungy couch where Tony usually passed out for the night if he was on an engineering binge in the lab, and they settled down to listen to Tim (with some antecedents from Tony) explain how he became Robin. He wasn’t sure he believed Tim when he described how bad Bruce - Batman - had been after Jason had died, even after Tony pulled up injury and incident reports from the GCPD’s database during the two years before Tim began his training. He didn’t want to believe because he still had a grudge against the Batman - he’d admitted as much to Dr. Jane during his last private session. He did wish, however, that he could have seen the look on both Bruce and Dickie’s faces after learning that a scrawny 12 year old knew who they were. He even admired the guts the kid had for putting on Jason’s old suit and taking on Two Face. The guy was known for being one of most dangerous criminals in Batman’s Rogues Gallery for a reason.

“I… I never wanted to replace you, Jason,” Tim said softly as he finished his story. “But Batman needed a Robin. I know that I’m nowhere near as good or as strong as you or Dick, but… I could only hope… it’s all that I can ever hope…that I am good enough . That I can do the role justice. That I can give Batman the kind of support he needs now, that he got from my predecessors.”

Aw hell. Now Jason really felt like shit. Especially when his eyes caught sight of the shiny new scar on the kid’s neck. He’d done that. He’d done that to a fourteen year old boy who hadn’t deserved the brunt of his anger. His rage. Bruce and Joker, he could still blame - did blame - but this kid was innocent. And so naive, with those bright blue eyes that shone with that spark of hope he’d so often caught glimpses of in the mirror when he was that age because being Robin was amazing. When Jason was still baffled and amazed that anyone could want him, the neglected orphan child of an abusive asshole criminal father, a drug addicted mom, and a traitorous bitch of a birth mother.

And according to Tony, the Drakes had been neglectful too. They’d been gone for long periods of time and often enough that their tiny kid was regularly able to sneak out at night with little to no problem to some of the worst parts of Gotham just to take pictures of Batman and Robin.

Jason could just imagine him. A tiny little boy who looked like he was 6-7 years old instead of the 8-9 year old he really was in a large baggy sweatshirt that hid his camera, crouching behind chimney stacks, water towers, on fire escapes, and in tiny crevices just to get that perfect snapshot… so tiny no one noticed him if he held still enough, especially when shit was going down and eyes were only tracking movement. How many times had Jason missed seeing Tim, even when the kid was right under his nose?

“Don’t worry, Jason,” Tony said, “just think of it this way. Even though you never suspected anything for the two years you were Robin, just remember that Bruce had been completely clueless for nearly four years.”

That was actually a good point and it made Jason snicker. So much for the World’s Greatest Detective.

“Please tell me you still have some of those pictures,” Jason said, looking at Tim. “I bet you’ve got some really good ones.”

“Uh, yeah,” Tim stammered. “I moved all of the hard copies here last summer.”

Tony hadn’t stopped beaming the entire time they’d been sitting on the couches. He jumped at the mention of Tim’s pictures and went to a spot in the wall that Jason had never realized was a safe. They spent the entire night looking through the photos, even the ones Tim had been reluctant to show Jason from his own Robin days.

Listening to the kid and watching him talk as he described what was going on in every picture was very informative. The kid had an Eidetic Memory like Tony so he could recall everything going on in each shot, and remembered how he’d managed to take it. It helped Jason remember a lot about his time as Robin when they went over his pictures. It was easier for him to remember the good times he’d had with Bruce and as Robin. He could remember the utter joy and elation he’d felt the first time he’d flown and patrolled the streets. Tim had captured him on his first night perfectly, his grin wide as he crested the apex of a swing, Batman’s shadow a dark protective blur behind him.

“Thank you for showing me these,” Jason said, smiling softly as he picked up a picture of him smoking a cigarette while in uniform alone on a rooftop across from the police station where the backlit outlines of Commissioner Gordon and Batman could be seen in front of the lit Batsignal.

“Sure,” Tim said, smiling hesitantly as he began to put away the photos. “You can keep these if you want. I still have the negatives and can always make new prints.

“Thanks. And...I’m...sorry, Tim,” Jason said, handing the picture back. “I… You…”

Damn it. Words were failing him. What could he say? Sorry for slitting your throat? Sorry that I wiped the floor with you in front of your little team of super friends?

“We can always start over,” Tim suggested softly, smile still hesitant, and Jason hated that his eyes kept returning to Tim’s throat. To that scar. He’d done that.

“I can’t promise that I won’t hurt you again,” Jason admitted. “I’m… several different sorts of fucked up.”

“But you’re getting better,” Tony said, encouragingly.

“I’m still an asshole,” Jason huffed.

“So am I,” Tony snorted. “And I doubt therapy is going to fix that.”

“Therapy?” Tim repeated, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline.

“Yeah, Pep’s got us seeing a shrink every Tuesday and Thursday,” Tony admitted before quickly adding, “I’m only putting up with it to help Jason.”

“Sure you are, old man,” Jason scoffed.

“You’ve got him attending regular therapy sessions… Jason, I’m honestly wondering whether or not I should hug you right now. I’ve been asking him to seek some sort of psychiatric help since he returned from Afghanistan,” Tim said.

“Hug him anyway,” Tony said. “Jayce needs as many hugs as you do and Dick’s not here to supply his personal brand of comfort.”

Jason and Tim both made a face at that.

“Still a hugger?” Jason asked. Granted, he hadn’t been on the receiving end of many Grayson hugs, but he’d seen how much of a cuddle monster Nightwing was from observing Dick and his team.

“Like an octopus,” Tim groaned. “It would be nice if he weren’t so…”

“Clingy?” Jason snickered.

“I was going to say opportunistic, but yeah, that too,” Tim laughed.

“Oh?”

“He hugged me every chance he got after my mother passed away, and he’s started up again, now that my father is awake from his coma and is preparing to move out of the hospital,” Tim sighed.

“Speaking of Jack, how is he?” Tony asked.

“Frustrated,” Tim sighed. “But is promising to be a better and more attentive father this time around. He’s moving us out of Drake manor and into a Brownstone that’s more handicap accessible. He’s currently in a wheelchair and will be unable to use the upstairs, meaning that it’s all my space for now.”

“Must make it easy for sneaking out at night to patrol,” Tony mused.

Tim hummed in agreement and as the two continued to talk more about Jack Drake, his condition, and the pretty physical therapist he was seeing, Jason tuned the conversation out and watched Tiny Nim pater through the tubing that ran along the back shop wall. Wingnut was on one of the wheels again in the habitat above the minibar and it looked like Babster was thinking of kicking him off. Again. DUM-E and U whirred fretfully when she did, but it make Jason chuckle. And apparently regain Tim and Tony’s attention.

“What’s so funny?” Tony asked.

“Babster kicked Wingnut off a wheel again. He’s totally sulking,” Jason smirked as he watched the two hamsters he may have named after Dick and Babs.

“Oh my God, are those hamsters?! When did you get hamsters?!” Tim cried.

“They’re part of Jason’s pet therapy,” Tony explained.

“Are not,” Jason scoffed. “Batster, maybe, but the others are totally your doing, Tony. You’re the one who said he must have been lonely.”

“Batster?” Tim repeated, looking like he was torn between laughing and being appalled.

“The Bastard Hamster,” Jason said, shrugging.

“Who may or may not be named after a certain bastard bat,” Tony added.

“Oh my God,” Tim laughed, sounding a touch hysteric - clearly on the verge of losing it. “Do I even want to know what you named the others? Just how many do you have?!”

“Five.”

Tim ended up near tears he was laughing so hard when Jason told him their names. He felt quite proud of himself. His replacement wasn’t so bad after all.

Author’s Note:

So this chapter was really emotionally draining for me to write at times (hence why it's taken me so long to post it). I have a lot of love and sympathy for Jason Todd's character, so I really wanted to give him that chance at recovery. If he came off as too OC, I apologize. I didn't want to make his recovery seem too easy, so that's why the chapter didn't stop after Tony gets Jason to agree to come out to Malibu, even though that was what I'd originally intended. That and I wanted Jason and Tony to grow close again and to give Jason and Tim a chance to meet outside of Gotham and being Red Hood and Robin. I hope that this chapter was believable and kind of fun (the hamster thing came out of nowhere). Because I want this to be a happier Batman and Avengers verse, Jason and Tony are getting the help they need. I really love the bond that has developed between these to characters and with Tim's.

Next chapter will be a little more happier (I hope) and go back to the sort of playful mood the earlier chapters of this fic. Cassandra Cane and Stephanie Brown are going to make their appearances soon and the hijinks promise to be a lot of fun. Granted, I don't know much about either character (having only seen them in the Red Robin comics and read other reader's interpretations of them in fan fics) so I hope to do at least an adequate job, but they will probably end up OC. :P Any advice and info you guys can tell me about the characters would be great, guys.

#Timmy Stark Verse #Jason Todd #tony stark #Tim Drake #pepper potts #Rhodey Rhodes