#i told the whole story and they both think something is up with timothy’s story

[curlyjoe7]

Forming Your Own Opinions.

First off - major trigger warning for rape, manipulation and abuse. Second off - this is an adult conversation, between adults and only adults. I don’t want any arguments just informed debate. If you don’t know the situation then don’t speak. If you don’t like my opinion, agree to disagree, unfollow or block and move on. Everyone has the right to express their thoughts, all arguing will result in being blocked. Third off - I know this is old and no one wants to hear about it anymore but I just formed an opinion on it which I want to talk about. Sorry if hearing about it bothers you.

For the longest time and still even so now I have had the mentality: go with the popular opinion or just be quiet and you will be liked. Which is very toxic. I am obsessed with being liked, being plastic and letting others control my thoughts. I’m trying to get away from that though and this is my first step. Stating a controversial opinion. A big one. Very big. It’s hard for me, the whole thing has thrown me into a few severe anxiety attacks but I have to do this to get better or I never will. I’m super nervous and I’m ready to be hated or as ready as I possibly can be whilst simultaneously freaking out. So what’s my opinion? That Melanie Martinez is innocent. Just hear me out. Here’s why I think she’s innocent:

I was a big Melanie fan at the time of the rape accusations. At first when I heard it I thought “wow this is terrible, she’s a rapist” and cancelled her. It was really hard but I knew it was the best thing to do. After all it’s better to side with a potential victim than a potential rapist, right? I also knew nothing about the backstory so I had nothing to work off of but the word of someone I didn’t know existed and the statement “she never said no to what we chose to do together.” I as many thought that was a dumb excuse, just because someone doesn’t say no doesn’t mean it means yes. But like I said, I had no backstory so I moved on and unfanned Melanie, as hard as it was for me. Randomly I thought of it again, in the past week, and wondered if there was anything else about it. Looked it up and well... there’s a ton. I want to make a disclaimer that when looking at all the evidence, I took into consideration both sides. I was completely unbiased in this despite my past love of Melanie. Rape is a serious issue and should be treated like that not just excused because you like the person who is accused of it. Though with what I was learning, Timothy’s story seemed fishy with some holes. So I did more digging. First let’s get the story clear of what supposedly happened:

And that’s it basically. That’s the story, coming straight from her Twitter. Pretty horrifying, manipulating and wrong. Makes you feel bad for Timothy. But it doesn’t end there. After she released that statement Melanie released her own:

Many people thought it was her admitting to it and claiming it wasn’t rape because she let it happen. Which had us thinking she was guilty as sin. Until Timothy started releasing more information. Apparently that same day they went to a thrift shop and picked up a game that included a blindfold, handcuffs, and a dice that said things like “lick leg.” Which she never mentioned at all before. Originally Timothy said that Melanie bought it but then later said she herself did. Which is odd since she stated she has been abused before and sexual stuff made her uncomfortable. But whatever she said she thought it would be funny. Now here’s where it gets weird, she never mentioned the game before, right?Maybe she forgot? Sure that’s reasonable. They played the game on June 25th 2015 according to Timothy in an interview:

At Melanie’s house. Melanie’s house is in LA. This is important because with further information, she was in New York performing on stage that day. She even made an Instagram post about it:

And fans have pictures of her on stage. You notice how her hair is blonde and black in this pic? Well to support her cause Timothy posted a picture of Melanie the night it happened:

Her hair is a different color. And on her phone it shows up as May 6th, 2015. She claims it’s because her iCloud is messed up and that pictures of her recently showed up at being in 2011:

I went to Melanie’s Instagram to see her hair color May 6th, 2015 and just look:

On May 2nd her hair was that color in the picture. It’s actually really easy to change dates on your iCloud too. That’s... odd. But there’s even more, I believe she said they stopped being freinds after that but I know she said they stopped being friends in 2016, yet in 2017 she said this:

Okay. Change it once, maybe you forgot but if she changed it twice and still got it wrong? Suspicious. She actually has changed a lot of the story, multiple times. She said originally she didn’t want to go to the cops because she was afraid they wouldn’t believe her then said on her Instagram Live that yeah it’s bad but not murder so she doesn’t deserve to go to jail. So which is true? I mean it doesn’t matter her reason, it’s her decision but why is the reason changing? In Timothy’s original statement she mentioned some of Melanie’s fans became her fans but their loyalty never strayed from Melanie. That’s... irrelevant. But is it actually? Melanie was supposed to release a new album one month later. Which didn’t end up happening and when you went to Timothy’s Twitter at the time she had a pinned tweet for her song. Kinda weird but okay, it was probably there before. But why mention the loyalty of her fans never straying from her? Like I said, it’s irrelevant to the topic but not to her potential motives. They started their careers at the same time and Melanie was more popular too. And apparently started focusing on her music more than her friends so both of these might be the reason why. Seems reasonable. Now of course I wanted to check the stuff on Melanie’s side too but all I found was the original statement and this one:

Which in my opinion does clear up the “she never said no” thing. I think what she was trying to say is, Timothy didn’t say no multiple times like she said she did and that Melanie would never have sex with someone without their complete confirmation. Maybe even she meant she didn’t say no to the game they played. Though it could mean: “She never said no, I didn’t act on when she did say no but pressured her to give in.” And what Melanie says in this statement: “I trusted so many people in my life who took advantage of that trust for their own personal gain” supports the fact Timothy did it for fame. She also mentioned that in her song she released on Spotify called Piggyback that goes:

Trusted too many people while I was still young

Gave them the benefit of the doubt, I was so wrong

I cut them off and they came for blood cause they know

They ain’t getting no more

I’m so done playing piggyback

Swear to god I wished y’all all the best

You’re lying your way to try to gain a piece of me

When you could never come close cause I know my destiny

I worked hard for my shit

Put my love in this shit

Now you’re trying to kill my name for some fame

What is this?

Tried to help you do your shit

Encouraged you to work on it

Was a good friend and you used that to your advantage

Timothy did mention when Melanie blew up that she didn’t have time anymore for her and that she wanted to focus on her fans and music. So it does make sense that she did this for attention, to hurt Melanie. Even so the way Melanie worded her statement originally, doesn’t help her cause. Just made her look worse. The second statement however does clear it up in my opinion. With all the evidence and what Melanie said, it’s 1 point she’s guilty to multiple that she’s innocent. Even if you don’t like her you can’t deny that. There may be more points towards her being guilty as well, I’m not sure but this is all I could find, though there is just too many points towards her being innocent. In reality though none of this is fact, it’s just evidence and even evidence can be fake or twisted sometimes. Here’s a few more things about Timothy though and this story:

She says she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore but yet is willing to keep bringing it up. She dressed up as Melanie in 2016, a year after the rape, why would you put yourself through so much pain and do that? Idk just seems like it would hurt you more but she did love her so maybe that’s why: she was trying to deny the truth because of how much she loved her. She also suffers from BPD (Boarderline Personality Disorder) which I hate to bring up, just because she has a mental illness doesn’t mean she would do something fucked up. Just because anyone has a mental illness doesn’t mean it’s the reason for everything. Mental illness doesn’t equal bad morals but it can lead you to do bad things. Trust me I know, I have depression, anxiety and OCD. My OCD causes me to try to avoid particular things which I don’t always do in a nice way. I hurt people because I don’t want to deal with something related to it. This could be the same situation. The symptoms of BPD do explain why she would do this to hurt Melanie. For example some of the symptoms for BPD are pervasive instability in moods, distaste of one’s self image, insecurity and problems with interpersonal relationships. It seems logical with that info why she would do it if she is lying. Not to mention Timothy has claimed abuse on past bandmates of her old band Dresses where she only stayed cause they needed her voice. She has the history to make claims, I have no idea if it’s true though. She also allegedly molested a 16 year old girl. Also unsure if that’s true but if she did that she might have based the story on what she did since the story is quite similar. Regardless, here’s my complete opinion on the matter:

Timothy made it up for attention because she was jealous Melanie was focusing on her music not her and that she wasn’t as popular, probably a lot being because of her BPD. She knew a story like this would get attention and people would believe with the rising amount of sexual assault victims coming forward. So she posted it and then remembered she knew she had that picture of the game so she started basing it around that, picking a random date and saying it happened at Melanie’s house cause they are in her house in the pic, not knowing what Melanie actually did that day. However though she forgot the picture was dated and tried to blow it off as her iCloud being messed up which she supported by changing the date on recent pictures to awhile ago. And also she can’t remember parts of her story so she makes up new stuff and changes stuff a lot. Then she goes on to social media shading her and posting things about how hard it is to get empathy. Stuff like the picture on her IG story which is her crying (it just looks like she put in eyedrops to me) I would post but I hit the picture limit. She even contacted her friends to get in on it to make it look legit. She hasn’t gone to the cops because she knows they will find it bs and she’ll be revealed as lying. Most juries which are meant to be unbiased would side with Melanie because of the evidence so if it is false that explains why she hasn’t gone to the cops. And if it is real, honey if you don’t remember a part just say you don’t remember, it’s not helping your cause.

But that’s just my opinion, everyone has their own. There is probably even more to this that I don’t know but I shared everything I do. Though regardless let’s remember no side has concrete proof. To me everyone is innocent until proven guilty. You can’t really call her a good or a bad person and say it’s fact because you don’t know the truth. You can however support her by forming an opinion based on your own view of the situation. That doesn’t make you a bad person or someone who is defending rape. And to everyone who believes it: don’t get on the people who think it’s bullshit. You can’t deny there is a lot of holes in the story. And it doesn’t make you look better or woke nor is it siding with a potential rapist, it’s siding with evidence and your opinion. Evidence is better to side with than a potential victim just because they are a potential victim. Some people make stuff up. Even horrible things like that. Also don’t side with Melanie just because you like her, actually do some research and use your brain not your heart. It makes you a horrible person to just support her because “she’s my idol and a true fan would support her even if she’s a rapist!!!” That’s so fucked up. It truly makes me sick to hear delusional stans saying that. People like you are making the situation worse and contributing to rape culture. Delusional stans are also saying if you didn’t believe Melanie from the beginning on this situation you’re not a real fan. Which is not true at all. We are real fans, we just wanted to not instantly believe she didn’t do it because we like her. We wanted to figure out how we see the situation by looking at the evidence before jumping to conclusions. That makes us logical. On a similar note us questioning the situation and trying to find more information on it to form an opinion is also being logical. Not invalidating a potential rape victim. But rather doing the right thing and giving both parties the right to a fair trial. And if any of you are going to say: “why hasn’t Melanie done more about it then?” Would you want to talk about something like this? Something that damaged your career immensely? No, you wouldn’t. If it’s real, I’m sorry Timothy that this happened to you and Melanie deserves consequences. But if it is false, I’m sorry you have to deal with this Melanie and Timothy deserves consequences. Form your own opinion and please be respectful. I’m going to go back to supporting Melanie because I genuinely believe that she didn’t do it. That’s my decision, make your own. And don’t get on Melanie or Timothy, no cyber bullying them. Like I said you don’t know the truth nor do I, only they do. Even if you did being mean gets you nowhere. Now let’s just let this go and move forward from it.

#melanie martinez #timothy heller #i want to say as well i told both my mom and bf about this #i told the whole story and they both think something is up with timothy’s story #they don’t care nor really know about either of them #so their opinion is as unbiased as it can get #and they both think she’s lying #take that as you will #also i want to say i feel so free posting this #like i cut those chains holding me down to perfection #holding me back #not letting me be me #i’m so proud of myself for doing this #it’s a big step towards getting better

[alyssadeliv]

The Forgotten One

First      Previous

Chapter 11

She always knew she had a Father. When she was younger she used to ask her mother about him. She mostly told her half-truths. She knew his real name, and about his nightly activities. About his time with the League, and how he adopted some orphans along the way. She heard all about him. From Mother, Grandfather, and sometimes other members passing by. From a young age, she had him pictured in her mind. 

But now, sitting in front of him, in his office, she felt silly for ever trying to imagine what he would be like. He didn’t compare to whatever her young mind had conjured at the time.  He was tall, and he had a face that she could only explain as enigmatic. He wore a mask, that she knew. After years of perfection one of her own, she could only imagine what he had been thought to dissociate himself from the people around him. 

The office was simple, but at the same time imposing. It had a desk, behind it was her father paying attention to every word that came out of her mouth, with a large bookcase by her left. All the wood was dark, giving the room a more serious look. To her right, the wall was entirely covered with windows, with its drapes open showing the beautiful big garden outside the Manor. Behind her father, there is a painting hanging. A family portrait. She recognizes everyone in the painting with ease. Bruce is seated, with Damian in his lap, while Jason, Richard, and Timothy are standing behind Father’s chair. It’s an exquisite piece and even though they all are wearing suits, it makes the whole room look homey.

“Why didn’t you come here, after you healed from the attack?” They had been talking for the past hour. Marianne spent most of that time telling him the circumstances of her upbringing.

“I couldn't. My Master thought it would be better to stay longer.” She explains while playing nervously with the hem of the shirt Damian had lent her this morning. He could feel the anxiety coming out of her but was impressed that she kept herself strong and didn’t avoid eye contact. “So we continued with my training, but after some time we discovered a destructive energy that could only come from someone misusing a Miraculous. So it was decided that we would stay and assess the situation.”

“And this person was the fashion designer you killed this week? Gabriel Agreste?” He had a disapproving face, typical of parents disciplining their children.

“Damian made me aware of your no-kill policy, but since this was an Order business I believe you do not have the power to dictate how I dealt with it. I respect that this is your city, but believe or not I was lenient in his punishment. If it was up to me, death wouldn’t have been enough to compensate for all the pain he caused to the citizens of Paris, but I must allow the Gods to decide his punishment, so death it was.” Her speech allows him time to think about the situation. By the end of it he agreed, it wasn’t his business.

“What happened is in the past. I need to know if I can trust you not to endanger the people of Gotham. Who are you loyal to?” 

“I am loyal to myself. And Damian. Trust has to be earned so it is okay that I do not have yours. But trust this: I love Damian, and would rather die than hurt him” Bruce analises her for some time, trying to find any hint of dishonesty on her, but just like his youngest when cornered, her emotions were transparent in her face.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that you remind me so much of… well your mother” He confessed with a nostalgic expression. “When she first brought Damian to live with me I was so shocked. I must admit that my reaction wasn’t the best. He was so grown, that it was hard to get to know him. With the others it was easier, they-”

“They weren’t your blood” She supplies. He looks a little relieved that she understood what he was trying to explain. “But you loved them all the same.”

“I did this once, it was a terrible job. Just know that I’ll be trying my best to- well, accommodate you into this family.” 

“That’s all I ask for.” She replies with a small smile. 

Marianne looked so much like his mother at a young age. He remembers spending hours looking through family album photos when he was younger. Sure he could see traces of Talia in her, but the blue eyes and black hair were definitely a Wayne trait. It scared him. Did he have any other children out there that he knew nothing about? He lost so many years from his children's lives, it pained him to think about what type of childhood they received. Sure, both Damian and Marianne didn’t hide their upbringing, but anyone could see that there were things they weren’t comfortable sharing. He knew from his own time at the League that it wasn’t easy.

“When did you meet Jason?” He had heard from Dick just this morning that apparently there was something that Jason hadn’t told them about his time in the League.

“Mother ordered me to train him after he was resurrected, because of my powers I was the best candidate to help him control the madness inside of him.” She explains, but Bruce could see the faint blush on her cheeks. 

“And you two…” He trailed off, not knowing how to phrase his question.

“Yes. And please let’s leave it at that.” She’s blushing more than she ever did before. The fact she’s talking about her love life in front of her newly acquired father makes the whole situation hilarious, and if she wasn't so mortified she would have laughed. 

“There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you” Marianne begins, uncertain of how the man in front of her would react to her request. “If it was alright with you, could I please have a hug?”

Whatever Bruce thought she was going to ask, it definitely wasn't this. So he stays there in shock, totally still for more time than he realizes. Enough for doubt to appear in the girl in front of him. His daughter. His blood daughter. He had some experience with Cassandra, but he still wasn’t sure he hadn’t totally fucked up with her yet, so this whole new daughter scene was hard on him.

Before she can flee the room in shame of her request, Father rises from his chair with grace, hiding his anxiety behind his perfected mask. In two strikes he is at her side.

The hug feels nice. Not that she would ever confess but the physical touch was something she always missed. The only person that had no trouble with being smothered with her love was Damian, and then later Jason. So, this hug from her father was definitely something she needed.

When they are done Bruce takes one more lounging look at her before dismissing her. He truly needed some time to think of all that had happened in the last few days. It had been almost 4 days since the reveal of the parentage of the girls, so he still had a lot to process. 

So now sitting with a glass of bourbon in one hand, and his cellphone in the other. He did the only thing he could think of. He called Seline.

“Hey… It’s me.”

Hello again everyone! A special thank you to everyone that has been supporting this story! I wasn't sure if I indeed wanted to write a PART 2 to this story, but after all your comments I decided to do so. I hope you all like this chapter, it's shorter than usual, but I still need to figure some stuff about the story, so please bear with me! Let me know what yall think of it!

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#maribat #batman #bio dad bruce wayne #child assassin #damian wayne #mari al ghul #marianne al ghul #miraculous ladybug #older sibling #the forgotten one #assassin marinette #damian al ghul #league of assassins #mari wayne #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous au #mlb x dc #ra's al ghul #talia al ghul #bio-dad

[berriusagi]

Stomach Bug Ch2

Dinner Announcement

Should I be writing my geology essay? Yes. Am I going to write it right now? No. Am I instead going to write a new chapter to this fic? Absolutely. Thank you everyone who showed interest in this story it means a lot that people actually like this and to everyone asking to be tagged I’d take a bullet for you. You are all the best.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The calm collected tone Bruce had during his call did well to hide the absolute madhouse that was Wayne Manor. While he was trying to subtly interrogate his youngest son over the phone his other three were playing the world's worst game of charades. Dick’s arms were flailing around as he made exaggerated motions trying to get a read on what Damian was saying through Bruce’s stony features. Jason was seemed to be working his eyebrows as much as humanly possible seeing if he could get even a hint of a reaction from Bruce. Tim, however, was just patiently waiting too tired to do any of the over the top actions of his brothers.

“Okay son, if you’re sure I’ll speak with Alfred.” Bruce nodded before hanging up and took a moment to compose himself before his sons launched into their own interrogation.

“What’s going on?” Dick asked, “Is little D okay?”

“What’s up with Demon Spawn I’ve never heard him have an emotion other than anger before,” Jason asked leaning forward.

“Why was he at Ivy and Harley’s?” Tim asked sipping his coffee.

“He didn’t say much.” Bruce sighed rubbing his eyes, “he told me he’ll be out for the rest of the day but that he’ll be here at dinner to explain what happened. He’s also bringing a few guests though he wouldn’t give any names.”

The three boys all shared looks before flying out of the room and scrambling through the halls towards the Batcave. Alfred stepping out of the way as they flew past him all shoving each other away or jumping over the other to try and be in the lead.

“They are quite lively this morning.” Alfred hummed walking over to Bruce with a raised eyebrow, “What did I miss?”

“Damian ran out during breakfast after a phone call and won’t be back until dinner he’s bringing three guests. He didn’t tell me more than that.” Bruce sighed leaning back in his seat, “How am I not grey yet Alfred?” he asked

“Must be favorable genetics as it can’t be from your tranquil life.” Alfred mused as he cleaned up the table and headed off to wash the dishes leaving Bruce alone to listen to the distant shouts of his sons fight their way into the Batcave.

~.~.~.~

“Angel, you need to eat something.” Damian said rubbing Marinette's back as she covered her nose turning away from the food set out in front of her, “I know it makes you nauseous but at least eat some toast.” he coaxed grabbing some dry toast and held it up to her.

“Eating is the last thing I want to do right now.” Marinette groaned still a little green from her last round of sickness.

“I know but the baby needs you to eat.” he soothed looking in her eyes, “you need to eat so the baby can be fed.”

Marinette groaned and pushed the plate stacked meats and eggs away from her and leaned back further to get away from the smell. Once her stomach seemed to settle she gingerly took the toast Damian kept insisting upon her eating and took small bites slowly working through it. Her stomach settled further the more she ate allowing her to relax a bit more and a healthier color to finally come to her face.

“Think she’ll be a vegetarian during this pregnancy,” Harley chuckled taking the plate away and deposited the food in the doggy bowls by the door for the two hyenas to come rip through later, “probably for the best for her to not have any meats though might really mess with her stomach.”

Ivy hummed looking through the pamphlets reading up on the different options, “Marigold we should set up an appointment with the OB-GYN Dr. Beau recommended. We should also grab some prenatal vitamins too since you’re not going to be getting enough nutrients from eating like a little bird.”

“I’ll go buy some,” Damian said standing quickly only to get shoved down in his seat a second later by Harley.

“Yeah no,” Harley said grabbing her brag, “That’s just what we need you on the front page, ‘ Wayne Heir spotted buying prenatal vitamins ’ this whole city would be in an uproar trying to figure out who you knocked up. You stay here and keep our little bug comfy we’ll go do the shopping.”

“You’re just going to leave your daughter alone with her boyfriend unsupervised?” Damian asked raising an eyebrow.

“What are ya goin to do? Knock her up?” Harley chuckled raising an eyebrow at the two blushing teens at the dining table. “You two talk, cuddle, be teens and red and I will do the shopping then later we’ll all go to Wayne Manor and act as buffers for marigold here so she doesn’t go catatonic.”

“Thank you,” Marinette mumbled looking up at the two women who so kindly took her into their home and wanted nothing more than for her to grow and be happy, “for everything I can’t thank you enough.” she sniffled scrubbing at her face.

Ivy and Harley both smiled and wrapped her up in another tight hug showering her in love and affection until her sniffles died down once more. The two women pulled back giving Mari kisses all over her face until she was giggling and pushing them away her face flushed with laughter instead of tears. Only once she was smiling brightly again did they finally pull away and leave the two teens alone.

“She’s going to be okay.” Harley smiled slinging her arm around Ivy’s shoulder, “our little marigold is gonna be just fine.” she sighed as they made their way out of the apartment building.

Marinette finished her dry toast sipping on some warm tea to soothe her throat from the torture it had gone through that morning with her stomach issues. Damian cleaned up the discarded dishes and helped Marinette up walking her over to the couch keeping a firm hold on her so she wouldn’t trip over the stray toys littering the floor. “Dami I can walk just fine.” she giggled softly as Damian helped her to sit.

“You’re pregnant I don’t want you to fall.” He said sitting down beside her, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” 

“Walking around the apartment isn’t going to hurt me or the baby.” She sighed leaning on his side, “I might be a klutz but I’m not going to fall that easily. I was Ladybug for three years have some faith in me.” she mumbled closing her eyes all the stress and tension from the morning finally easing off now that she had Damian by her side.

Damian sighed wrapping an arm around her hugging her gently, “I have so much faith in you,” he whispered leaning down to kiss the crown of her head, “I’m just worried about what could all go wrong.”

Marinette sighed sitting up and turned to face him looking up into his emerald eyes, “I don’t want you to worry, I’m already scared I just want you to be the one to tell me everything is going to be okay. That we’re going to be okay.” she said moving forward to bury her face in his chest, “I want to act like this wasn’t an accident and that we’re not two stupid teens.”

Damian wrapped her up in a tight hug pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, “Okay angel,” he mumbled, “I’ll be your rock, we’ll get through this and we’ll be the best parents we can be.”

“That’s all I want.” she sniffled nuzzling closer using Damian's relaxed state to shove him back to lay on the couch quickly climbing up to cuddle up onto his chest burying her face into his neck, “I love you Dami,” she mumbled.

“I love you to angel.” he smiled softly gently running his fingers through her hair to help her relax as she began to slip away into a quiet sleep. He waited until she was fully asleep to allow himself to fully relax and take his time to process just what was happening. “I’m going to be a father.” he mumbled rubbing a hand down his face a soft laugh bubbling up from his chest as he smiled at the ceiling, “Todd’s going to have a stoke.”

~.~.~.~

“How is there nothing?” Dick asked staring at the screen of the bat computer, “That’s impossible there isn’t anything you can’t find.” he said turning to look down at Tim as he tapped away at the keyboard staring intently at the screen.

All three of the eldest Wayne boys had been down in the Batcave for hours scrubbing through phone logs, security feeds, anything and everything to get even a hint of what was to come for dinner. The longer they searched the more interested they got at the sheer lack of anything involving Damian and anyone else that would prompt him to act how he did.

“Doesn’t make sense Demon Spawn doesn’t just change overnight so either he’s just really good at covering his tracks or he’s a clone,” Jason said stretching out in his chair propping his feet up on the desk.

The other two made a humming noise as they continued to search through the documents for what felt like the hundredth time. “Wait!” Dick shouted jolting Tim and Jason nearly out of their seats as he pulled the keyboard from Tim’s grasp and started typing away, “We’re going about this all wrong.”

“And how, pray tell, should we be doing this?” Jason deadpanned looking over at Dick with a raised brow, “We should just go ask Demon Spawn and let him feed us a load of bullshit?”

“I mean clearly he doesn’t want us knowing anything because he buried it so deep but maybe asking him will give us some answers?” Dick said smiling in the face of his two brothers thoroughly unimpressed looks. “Oh come on it’s worth a shot.”

“Master Dick,” Alfred hummed walking down into the Batcave, “Master Timothy and Master Jason.” he nodded looking at the three men, “Our guests will be arriving for dinner soon please head up to the main house to clean up and get ready.”

“It’s time for dinner already?” Tim muttered turning to look at the clock noticing just how long they had been down there looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

“Yes so if you three will make your way to the manor proper.” Alfred nodded turning on his heels and headed back up the stairs so that he could continue with the dinner preparations.

The three men sat in silence for a moment longer before slowly making their way up the stairs. “Well, maybe we’ll get some answers during this dinner?” Dick asked looking at the other two only to receive shrugs in response.

Reaching the top landing they all split and went their separate ways to get ready for dinner taking their time to do their own thing. Soon enough a hard knock was heard through the manor signaling their mystery guests arrival. The three ran down once again shoving and tripping up each other to try and be the first in to see who would come through just narrowly avoiding crashing into Bruce’s back as they slid to a stop behind him.

Alfred calmly walked past them and opened the door, “Good evening Miss. Quinn, Miss. Ivy.” he said stepping aside allowing the two women to enter, “Welcome home Master Damian.” he said bowing his head to him, “and good evening miss?”

“You can call me Marinette.” she smiled softly up at the older gentleman, “I brought dessert,” she added holding out the large pastry box to Alfred trying to hide her nerves.

“Thank you, Miss. Marinette I’ll go put this away now. Dinner will be served shortly I hope you enjoy your stay.” he smiled softly nodding to the three women as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Damian you had us all quite worried when you ran out of here this morning.” Bruce said looking at his youngest and taking a moment to look over the three women before him, “Would you care to explain what happened?”

Marinette started to fidget keeping her eyes on anything but the Wayne’s before her, the soft pressure from Tikki in her purse doing little to keep her heart from beating out of her chest as her mind filled with everything that could go wrong. She managed to relax just a little as she felt the calm warm pressure of Damian's arm settling around her waist gently squeezing her hip to help ground her.

“Father, this is Marinette Isley-Quinzel,” Damian started his features cold and unreadable as he stared his family down, “she is my girlfriend.”

A pin could drop and sound like a gunshot in the silence that followed, the Wayne patriarch did well to hide his shock keeping a blank face as the three sons behind him ticked down to their own detonation.

“How much is he paying you?” Tim shot out.

“Where did you meet?” Dick grinned leaning forward.

“Blink twice if he’s holding you hostage.” Jason cut in.

Ivy and Harley stifled their laughs as they watched the three Wayne boys continue to throw outlandish theories and questions at poor Marinette. She seemed to calm down a small smile beginning to show on her face as she giggled at the two thinking she’d been coerced and the one trying to find out her life story. “He isn’t paying me or forcing me to be his girlfriend.” she smiled as Tim and Jason looked completely unconvinced, “and we met through a penpal assignment when I was thirteen but we didn’t start dating until I was fifteen,” she added on to answer Dick’s question.

“Well it is a pleasure to meet you Marinette it’s not often my youngest shows interest in anyone.” Bruce smiled stepping forward to take her hand, “shall we move to the living room while we wait for dinner?”

“That sounds just lovely Brucie.” Harley smiled stepping through them grabbing Marinette's arm and dragging her along out of Damian’s hold depositing her on a large armchair. Ivy shook her head smiling and followed her as she shrugged at Bruce taking a seat beside Harley on the loveseat as the Wayne’s made their way in. Once everyone was settled in and Damian got Marinette resettled on another loveseat so he could be beside her Harley decided it was a great time to drop the bomb, “So who’s gonna tell him?”

“Harls,” Ivy warned giving her a stern look.

“What? They need to know,” she said looking far too innocent for the chaos she was about to start.

“Tell me what?” Bruce asked looking at the two women carefully.

“Father,” Damian said drawing the attention of his family, “I know you just met Marinette but we feel you should know.” he said wrapping an arm around her to help keep her grounded, “Marinette’s pregnant.”

Silence doesn’t even begin to describe the absence of noise that followed, it was like a cold void swallowed the room as the Wayne’s collectively shut down at the news. Bruce’s face was unreadable as he took in the latest bit of news. Dick was practically vibrating out of his seat his eyes filled with glee. Tim looked as if his own brain was blue screening like a cheap laptop. Jason was the one to break the silence.

“Demon Spawn fucks.” Jason deadpanned

“JASON!” the room erupted from there Harley and Ivy cackling, Dick asking a million and one questions, Tim trying and failing to keep a straight face, and Jason roaring with laughter.

“What?! You’re going to look at me and tell me that I’m wrong?” Jason laughed, “the only thing I’m wrong about is that Demon Spawn would lighten up if he got laid.” he pointed at Marinette grinning wide, “She’s proof that he can fuck and still have a stick up his ass!”

“How long have you known?” Bruce asked his voice calm and collected effectively shutting down all conversation.

“I...” Marinette started her face a little pale from fear as she looked at Bruce’s emotionless face, “I found out this morning. I’ve had morning sickness for the past week.”

“You’re positive it’s Damian's?” he asked

“Father!” Damian glared moving to stand only to be held down by Marinette's small hand on his shoulder.

“I expected this,” she whispered urging him to remain seated before taking a deep breath and looked at Bruce, “I’ve only been with Damian since we began dating. If it’s not him then it’s Jesus coming back.”

Jason snorted getting a wide grin at the joke as he eyed Bruce trying to gauge his reaction.

Bruce seemed to take in everything he’d learned before a small spark lit up his eyes, “I’m going to be a grandfather.” he whispered tension starting to leave the room as he looked at Damian and Marinette pride and joy filling his eyes as he smiled wide, “I’m going to be a grandfather.”

“I call dibs on best uncle!” Dick shouted hopping up racing over to Marinette only to be tripped up by Jason.

“Like hell!” Jason shouted jumping over Dick, “I’m the best uncle for Pixie Pops kid.”

“Pixie pop?” Marinette asked letting out a yelp as Jason got right up to her practically throwing her up in the air as he lifted her from Damian's grasp.

“Hell yeah you’re small like a little fairy.” he grinned holding her as he jumped away from Damian's reach and Dick’s attempts to grab her, “so you’re Pixie Pop.” he chuckled.

The chaos began to unfold as Marinette finally relaxed all the stress bleeding away as she was welcomed into the crazy Wayne household. Ivy and Harley chuckled watching the two eldest and the youngest Wayne’s fight to grab hold of Marinette while Tim and Bruce seemed to quietly come to terms with all that was happening.

“So when’s the baby shower?” Ivy asked grinning wide.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

@myazael @beautiful-disasters-sunshine @moonlightstar64 @moonlitceleste @stainedglassm @casual-darkness @mochegato @ultimatetornshipper @heemsanddamemes @nathleigh @qualitypeacepainter

#daminette #damianette #damidad #mominette #maribat #maridami #ml x dc #teen pregnancy #Stomach Bug

[lunarianillusion]

A change in fate

a maribat fanfic

Chapter 08

It was so noisy; it was too noisy.

Marinette’s thoughts were running a mile a minute through her head. They were whirling around and around like a tornado. The thoughts were consumed in worries about everything that had happened in the last few days and could possibly come in the following. Her mind was overflowing with possible plans that her anxiety would then throw down into the void, only for them to resurface and overflow her mind again and the cycle would repeat itself over and over.

“Mari-”

The guardian knowledge, her thoughts, plans and worries colliding and overlapping with each other ripping each other apart, mending back together and whirling around her head like a hurricane. Her thoughts losing coherency until only a buzz like sound could be heard and it was only getting louder and louder.

“-ette…MAR-”

Her body began to feel numb as her brain stopped working coherently. She could barely move or feel her quickening breath, she did not notice her vision becoming blurry. Al the while her mind kept spiralling down, down, down, dow-

“MARINETTE!!”

The noir haired omega’s head shot up from where it had been laying on her crossed over arms. Her wide glazed over eyes locking onto a pair of concerned ocean blue eyes, but any other facial features were obscured in her hazy vision. A muffled sound, almost like rhythmic drumming sound, cut through the static haze in the girl’s ears. Was someone talking to her? She could not tell. Then her tingling hand was moved even though she did not will for it to. It took her a second to realise that the person infront of her had taken a hold on her wrist and had paced her hand a solid but warn surface, their chest.

The warmth of the clothed chest slowly chased away the numbing cold that had taken over most of Marinette’s body. She could now feel the slow rhythmic beat of the person’s heart and breathing, a stark contrast of her own erratic beating heart and stuttering breath. As if by instinct the omega began to copy the steady breathing pattern of the person infront of her and as her breath came back to her so did her vision. When it cleared up, she could see the person that had been helping her, it was Timothy.

“That it Mari, breathe. Just breathe,” The alpha spoke calmingly, his voice finally breaking through the static noise. The feeling soon returned to the girl’s body as her other senses started to calm down and her head started to clear.

Marinette let out a deep breath as she slowly removed her hand from Tim’s grip and used it to lean her head on top of instead. Closing her eyes to straighten out her last few disordered thoughts. That was one heavy attack and bless the kwami for their protection.

“You back?” the voice of the male infront of her once again breaking through her train of thought. Her eyes opening to look again at the raven haired alpha and giving him a small smile of reassurance. Her eyes drifted to her surroundings in order to pick the pieces of the morning for her memory had been foggy. With just a miniscule glace she was able to make out that she was in her classroom way before the bell would even ring. From their her memory started to piece itself back together. After having gained all the collected information from mist she had barely gotten any sleep even after the kwami’s had forced her to her bed. Her head had already started its downward spiral at that moment. That morning she had past her parents through the front of the bakery instead of going through the front door. They had said something to her, but even now she did not care what they had said and had gone straight to class when the whirlwind really overtook her.

“Y-yeah, I-I’m back,” the omega spoke softly to the alpha, who was now watching her like a hawk, with a small stutter. A moment of silence followed allowing Marinette to collect the final pieces of her scattered thoughts.

“Is it okay for me to ask what was happening inside of your head, or is it too soon?” Tim asked in a soothing tone. Marinette gave him another small smile to show her appreciation for his care. The genuine care he showed her warmed her heart, even with the suspicions she still held.

“S-sometimes the bottle cracks from all that we try to keep inside, away from the surface,” the noir girl spoke with a chuckle coming out of the alpha and omega duo. “How can I get your mind out of those thoughts?” “Just talk, the silence drags me back under,” The omega responded to the alpha’s question.

Tim gave a moment of thought to a possible subject to talk about and came to a different topic instead. “How about we ask each other some basic questions to get to know each other better?”  Though this was a nice and normal suggestion to everyday people this suggestion made Marinette’s hero mindset jump to attention at the possible recon opportunity. Maybe she can get a clue on him possibly being Red Robin. “Sure,” she answered softly.

And so, the asked each other several simple question. The very obvious questions of favourite colours and hobbies one enjoyed. Over the short time they talked Marinette noticed a topic that seemed Tim avoided talking about. “Say what is your family like, I don’t think you ever truly mentioned them since we met. Did they move with you to Paris?” The omega asked. An innocent enough question on the surface but could aid Marinette in discerning Tim’s possible relationship to Red Robin. She could ofcourse ask the kwami’s or use soul vision again. However, the headache was still bothering her greatly and made it hard to focus and this was good train for her growing detective skills. That still did not prepare her for his answer.

“They died some time ago,” the alpha’s voice was soft as he spoke and his sent was spiked in discomfort. The words made Marinette silently wince. “I am sorry. I did not mean to bring up bad memories.” Tim gave her a small smile, understanding showing in his eyes.

Still a question rose up with this revelation and concerning his age. “Do you have a guardian though? I don’t mean to say that I do not believe you can’t take care of yourself but we are of the same age and both underage, so should you not have a family or guardian with you?” Marinette asked, or rambled, as carefully as she could, maybe not as subtle as she would have wanted to be though.

Tim gave her a gently smile to reassure her from her anxious nerves. “I was taken in by a family acquaintance of my parents, who took me into their pack. But I emancipated myself a few months back, because I could not stay their any longer,” he told her in a calm manner, that made Marinette tilt her head with a hope for elaboration. Which the alpha gave. “Things started out really well but over time that foundation cracked and I did not feel welcome or save there anymore. So, I decided to start anew. I decided to move contents because I really do not feel like seeing them again and that is basically how I got here.”

No lie slipped from the raven-haired male’s lips. It took the omega slightly by surprise how honest he was about his situation. Marinette could easily tell as the emotions behind that statement lay bare in his eyes to see and the scent of regret seeping through the cracks of Tim’s control. It made Marinette feel more relaxed and made you over thinking brain ease up on her suspicions as her more sympathetic side came to life.

“I am sorry that all happened to you,” she started off, “To a certain degree I can relate to you in regard to worsening pack relationships,” The omega’s eyes were down cast as she reflected on the past few years. Timothy tilted his head with a gentle look in his eyes curious about the full story, what most likely included the lying orange sausage haired spider but waited for the girl infront of him on her own terms. The gesture was appreciated and so the words easily started to flow out of her mouth. “Believe it or not before Lie-la came along I was ‘friends’ with all of our classmates. Then the spider came along and turned all on me making them think I was a bully and now she has even ensnared my parents into her web of lies,” the midnight haired omega huffed before a conclusion she had come to hanks to this whole drama. “To a degree though I am grateful to the lying bitch,” She stated honestly, making Tim look at her in shocked surprise. “Thanks to her I was finally able to see who my friends are truly and who were nothing more then parasitise piggybacking on me for special favours,” Marinette elaborated gaining a nod of understanding from the alpha.

“I do envy you in a sense,” She continued, taking the ravenette by surprise once more. “I hate the situation that you got pulled into and I truly wish you did not have to go through that, but at the very least you were able to pull yourself out. Leave all the bad shit behind and start anew. I have tried getting out several times, but each and every time something or someone block my way to freedom.”

“Trapping you in a cycle of neglect and pain,” the alpha led out a pained breath at his own words as Marinette nodded in affirmation. The two fallen into a surprising comfortable silence, their presence soothing to the other. A part of Marinette’s brain thought that this was mostly due to the bond between true souls, but though that was definitely a factor a small part of her also thought that the raven-haired boy was someone she would truly able to trust. And being honest she did want to trust him.

“If you ever need help,” The male of the wo spoke, breaking the silence. “With trying to get away from humanity’s fucked society. Just say the word I will be happy to help,” he finished with a snap of his fingers, almost in a theatrical way.

A small playful smile grazed the female’s features as she spoke. “I will certainly call upon you should I be in need of your aid,” the omega tone sounding playfully posh. That was quickly caught by the alpha before her. “But pray tell how you would give me your aid?” This sent a banter ball rolling.

“Why can’t I look out for my fellow coffee loving insomniac with a likewise neglectful past,” Tim responded in likewise posh playful tone. “Truly one would think us to be related.”

“Oh, good heavens no,” Marinette gasped dramatically, as she placed the back of her hand onto her forehead. “I as the goddess of coffee am far too radiant to be related to you my dear friend.”

Tim gave a snort at the girl and her theatrics, before responding in in kind once again. “You are right. Your freckles make you to beautiful to ever belong to this mortal realm. I implore for forgiveness from my mistake a great mistress of the divine elixir that gives me life.”

“My, my is quite the development,” A new voice broke into the conversation. The dark-haired duo flushed at the amused voice and turned to the front of the classroom and the one who spoke. Their just on the steps leading to their seats stood an amused looking Chloé Bourgeois, a glimmer to her eyes that send a small chill down the dark-haired duo spine, and an equally amused Nathaniel Kurtzberg. At least it was not Lie-la and her posse of brainwashed fanatics.

In a graceful yet still dramatic motion, as per Chloé style, did the blond take her place beside her female omega friend. Her grin never leaving her face. Nathaniel two shuffling into his seat beside the male alpha. “Nathaniel we must prepare for the future,” the blond girl spoke first, finally turning away from the blushing pair. “If they are already fliting one this level, it will only be a matter of time before the two are married. And it is only the second day no less.”

The duo’s faces turned even more red with the statement and Nathaniel seemed to want to add some more fuel to the fire. “Yes, I think you are quite right Chloé. Before you know it, little dark-haired pups will be running amuck across Paris.” That statement drew a sound kin to a dying animal out of the dark-haired girl, much in contrast to the blonde’s badly hidden laughter. “Truly the end is nigh!”

Marinette’s face was ready to combust, if it had not already, from embarrassment. Looking through her fingers, with she had covered her face, she turned her eyes to Tim who was trying to cover his own face and was also as red as a lobster. At least she was not the only one on the receiving end of the teasing. She watched the dark-haired male take a peek at the clock and copied his action. It was almost time for the bell to ring.

“Though this is truly an enjoyable subject,” The alpha male spoke, his voice laced in sarcasm. “But unfortunately, the toxic spider and her gaggle of annoying flies will soon be upon us.” His statement made Marinette’s fellow Parisians groan along side her in misery.  

“I suggest that after this day of hell, we go over to my place and have some pack bonding time. Even get a head start on our investigation in that deceitful orange sausage, sound good,” The only blond of the group spoke. She may have said it was a suggestion but her tone left no room for question.

It still surprised the two boys at how easily the two females accepted them into their pack. A small warm smile graced Tim’s face for a moment as a warm feeling rushed through his pained heart. It soon changed into something more mischievous as the annoying sound of the liar graced his ears. “Say who wants to make a bet on the lies we will hear today.”

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

The two hidden kwami’s, Duusu and Wayzz, smiled at the turn of events. A rush of relief and feeling of gratitude flooding over them as the young dragon helped the young peafowl and new guardian out of the dark corners of her mind. A feat they had not been able to accomplish, no matter how hard all the kwami had tried, since the child’s awakening.

Marinette may not yet fully trust the boy, but in time hopefully she would. For even though the new guardian could see ones souls she could only see the surface level and could not see the dragon’s scars that reflected her very own. The two kwami present dearly hoped the two true souls would be able to help one and other heal, but only time will tell.

taglist: @moonlightstar64 @iloontjeboontje@mickylikesstuff@myazael @scribblinggraveyard @incredulous-reader@mewwitch@woe-is-me0 @fan-written@coolspidermanmusicflower@heretopasstimebi@jjmjjktth@ichigorose@cmouse @nyx-in-line@chocolatecatstheron@bookgirl14 @toodaloo-kangaroo@iglowinggemma28 @itsmeevie01

#maribat #timinette #timari #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #tim drake #chloe bourgeois #nathaniel kurtzberg #kwami swap

[itsadamcole]

arranged - pt.2

fem!reader x drew mcintyre

reader and Drew go to America for reader’s surprises ...

word count: 5.5k+

warnings: prince!drew, just a lil bit angsty, definitely more fluff than part 1, smut :)

— and here’s part 2. enjoy —

part 1 || masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You and Drew land in Orlando. It's late January, and a huge temperature difference. It feels more like summer in Florida than it does in Scotland, where it's super cold right now.

A smile hasn't left your lips since you took off, and you're excited to see Candice.

Speaking of Candice, she waits by baggage for you. When you see her, you drop Drew's hand and your things before running over to her. You hug her tight and she says, "Okay, okay. Relax, princess. It's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you too," you say, looking at her. "I haven't seen you since the wedding."

Candice laughs and says, "It wasn't that long ago." She looks at Drew. "Your husband has gotten handsomer since I last saw him."

You giggle and say, "It hasn't been that long, Candice."

She smiles and says, "So, anyway. Come on. The trainers and doctors want to give you a full physical at Full Sail to make sure you're cleared to be in the match this week on NXT."

Smiling, you say, "Sounds great." You look back at Drew. "Ready?"

He nods and says, "Of course."

Candice drives you both to Full Sail University, where NXT is broadcasted from. She asks questions about what married life is like, how Scotland is, and how it's been over there since you married Drew.

It's a short drive to Full Sail from the airport so she doesn't get to many questions in.

During the physical, the doctors and trainers make sure your in tiptop shape to compete. You've lost some muscle mass since you haven't trained in months but it's not that big of a deal. They do the whole work up.

After you've been medically cleared to compete, Hall of Famer Triple H finds you. He says, "Y/N, welcome to Full Sail. We're very happy to have you here as part of our roster in NXT, even though it's for a short amount of time."

You smile and say, "Thank you, Mr. H."

He hands you a black leather folder and says, "Inside, you'll find a part time NXT contract that will have you as part of the NXT roster for six months. Your husband says that after six months, you will no longer be able to compete. As a part timer, you're slotted to be in three matches, one match every two months."

Your eyes widen and you look at Drew before you say, "I thought this was a one match deal."

"I pulled some strings," Drew says before winning at you.

Triple H says, "As of right now, your matches will be against Candice this Wednesday at NXT, a match against an opponent of your choice at Takeover: London in two months, and a match against an opponent of your choice at Takeover: Glasgow in four and a half months."

Your jaw almost hits the floor and you say, "Takeover matches? Like, actual pay-per-view matches."

Everyone in the room laughs and Triple H says, "We wanted to make your last few matches memorable ones. I've spoken with William Regal about this and he's on board. Are you?"

Quickly, you read over the contract and sign it. "I'm on board," you say.

"Welcome to NXT, Y/N," Triple H says, holding out his hand.

You shake his hand and smile. "Thank you for this opportunity," you say.

He smiles and walks off. You look at Drew and he has a huge smile on his face.

"I haven't seen ya so happy about something before," he says.

You smile back at your husband and you say, "I'm living my dream because of you, Drew. Thank you."

Drew says, "I just got us here. Yer talent is the reason yer living yer dream."

"You've never seen me in the ring before," you say, giggling.

Your husband says, "I get t'see ya in the ring on Wednesday."

You smile and shake you head, leaving to go to the hotel to get some sleep so you can train all day tomorrow before Wednesday.

***

Wednesday gets here too quickly. You've brought your old gear with you to wrestle in. It's definitely more revealing than you remember.

You stand in your little dressing room and look in the mirror at yourself.

The shorts got tighter and shorter, and the crop top now tightly hugs your chest. Your cleavage is very exposed and you hope to God that you don't have a wardrobe malfunction while in the ring.

Now that you're the princess of Scotland, you have a lot to be conscious about.

Someone knocks on your door as you're tying up your boots. "It's me," Candice says. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," you say.

The door opens and Candice walks in. She smiles when she sees you in your gear. "Damn, you looked good in the gear then and you look good now," she says. "Anyway, I was thinking. I want to cut a promo before our match tonight. Just a short one. I'll say how a princess shouldn't be in the ring with someone like me and we can go from there."

You nod and finish lacing up your boots. "Sounds good," you say. "I'm assuming that my signing has been a secret?"

Candice nods and says, "Yeah. Drew's being kept out of the crowd until our slot so it doesn't give it away too early that you're here."

Someone calls your name and Candice's name. It's time.

"I've never been so ready to get back in a ring," you say. "Ever since I left, it's been marriage and princess lessons. I'm ready to wrestle again."

Candice smiles as the two of you walk to the backstage area. "You better be," she says.

Several NXT superstars are in the backstage area. The Undisputed Era, Finn Balor, Io Shirai, Timothy Thatcher, Tommaso Ciampa, Rhea Ripley, Johnny Gargano, Indi Hartwell, and Shotzi Blackheart just to name a few.

You stretch out as you wait for your music to hit.

It's been too long since you felt this rush of adrenaline. Before every match and every promo for Ring of Honor, you'd feel a rush of adrenaline to get you pumped up. You last felt this in your last ROH match a few months ago. It's been too damn long.

Candice's music hits and she walks out. You listen to what she says carefully.

"Rumor has it we're in the presence of royalty tonight," Candice says. "Apparently some princess signed with us a few days ago? That's the rumor anyway. I don't think she even deserves to be in an NXT ring."

That's when you're handed a microphone before your music, I Like It Heavy by Halestorm, hits. Of course it's a clean version of the song because this is WWE but it's fine. You're making your entrance for the first time in months.

The crowd loses it as you walk toward the ring in your sparkly red and black gear. You step into the ring.

The music fades out and you're face to face with Candice. She smirks and asks, "Oh, did I hit a nerve, princess?"

You hold your microphone up and say, "I don't deserve to be in an NXT ring?" You scoff. "Please, Candice. I've fought to be here."

Candice says, "You're Scotland's princess. That's the only reason you're here."

These comments are hitting you hard, but you fight through.

"Listen here," you say. "I am a NWA Women's World Champion, a two-time NWA Women's World Tag Team Chanpion, and Impact Knockouts Champion. I deserve to be in this ring for my talent, not by my title."

Candice says, "Then let's go. You're dressed. I'm dressed. Let's get a referee out here."

The crowd cheers and you yell "bring it" into the microphone before throwing it down.

The match begins shortly after. You have Candice in a headlock and you're trying to bring her down onto her knees. She pushes you off of her into the ropes. You bounce off and hit her with a clothesline.

You say, "Oh, look. The princess is the only one still standing."

The crowd laughs and Candice hits the mat before getting up. You're locked in a grapple with her a few seconds later. After a bit of struggling, Candice knees you in the stomach. You cry out and clutch your stomach, falling to your knees. She hits you with a running knee to the jaw, and you sell it well. You fall into your back, knees bent with your feet beneath you.

Candice pulls at your hair to get you up, and the ref warns her of the hair. She says, "Get out of my ring."

You snarl, "Go to hell."

Then you elbow her hard. She backs off you, creating enough space for you to perform a spinning heel kick. She falls but you get her up into your shoulders into a fireman's carry.

You hit the Falcon Arrow on her and go in for the pin.

One. Two. Three. The bell rings and your music blares. The crowd goes insane. You spot Drew in the front row where he would mostly be off camera. He's looking at you in awe as he applauds. You smile as the ref holds your arm up, declaring you the official winner.

***

Days pass by since your match with Candice. It's all you talk about whenever you get the chance. Drew just smiles and listens as you tell him about the rush you felt being back in the ring.

You're driving to your hometown, a little suburb outside of Manhattan. It's been a quiet ride, and that's because Drew is asleep.

Timezones and jet lag have not been your friend during this trip, but it's easier for you to get used to the time change than it is for Drew.

You pull up to your childhood home and tap Drew's shoulder. "Hey, sleeping beauty," you say. "We're here."

He stirs and looks out the window. You smile and he says, "This is yer old house? It's so small."

"I didn't have much," you say. "My parents scrapped together what they could to pay for wrestling school when I was 14 until I was 17. I told myself then that I'd make it in wrestling and I'd pay them back for what they paid for me to go to wrestling school."

Drew looks at you and asks, "Can we go inside?"

You shake your head and say, "It was foreclosed. It belongs to the bank or something. It would be illegal to go in."

Your husband looks back at the house, which has fallen apart with age. It's a one story house. It has one bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and one room that holds the living room, dining room, and kitchen areas.

Drew says, "This while time ya were over here struggling, I was living it up as the prince of Scotland with my rich parents. I used to throw tantrums because they wouldn't get me the newest toy or take me on vacation with them, and your family couldn't afford either."

"We made it through," you say. "My parents live in a beautiful two story house in the nicer part of Manhattan. I paid them back right before I left for Scotland. Every story has a happy ending, Drew."

He smiles a bit and he asks, "Even ours?"

You smile and say, "Especially ours." You lean over the middle console and press a kiss to Drew's cheek. Your lips linger a little too long and he turns his head. You pull back a bit and meet his eyes.

That's when the butterflies flutter in your stomach and your heart races in your chest.

Slowly, both you and Drew lean into each other. Your eyes flicker to the lips you've only kissed twice, once at your wedding and once at a public event right after the wedding.

One of Drew's hands moves and rests on your cheek. You instinctively lean into his soft touch a bit.

Your lips are centimeters away from Drew's. Your noses touch as Drew's other hand moves to cup your other cheek.

"Tell me to stop if ya don't want this," Drew whispers.

You nod a bit and say, "I want this, Drew."

Then his lips brush against yours. A feather light touch. It makes you lean in more because you want more.

Drew guides your lips to his. Your eyes flutter closed as you kiss Drew. Your hands wrap around his wrists as he cups your face.

His facial hair tickles your chin and upper lip as the soft kiss continues.

It's like your first kiss all over again. Your first kiss was at your wedding in front of thousands of people. This one feels different. You never felt butterflies or your heart race when you kissed Drew at your wedding. You do now.

Drew pulls back and looks at you.

"How come ya never kissed me like that at our wedding?" he asks.

You say, "Because I didn't want it then. I wanted it now. I wanted the kiss."

He smiles and pecks your lips one more time before saying, "Show me yer favorite spot."

Giggling, you say, "I can't drive with you holding my face. Hold my hand if you wanna hold something."

Drew smiles and lets your face go. He takes your hand as you drive to your favorite spot.

Your favorite spot, or your safe spot, is a small park. You pull up, and get out.

The sun is setting, and you have a perfect view.

After taking Drew's hand, you walk over to a park bench. You sit down and Drew sits beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulder as you both watch the sunset.

Drew says, "Ya don't have t'stay if ya don't want."

You look at him and ask, "What are you talking about?"

"In Scotland," he says. "Ya don't have t'stay. Being king isn't that important t'me if it means that ya don't get t'keep wrestling. I saw ya in the ring the other day, and it's all ya talk about. Ya love wrestling, and I don't wanna take that away from ya."

You turn so you're facing him as you say, "I'm happy in Scotland. Yeah, it was hard at first. I had to come to terms with possibly never wrestling again, and I did. Until you surprised me with this trip. I love that you did this for me, and for that, I'll help you become king and I'll be the best damn queen Scotland has ever seen." Drew smiles and you throw your legs over one of his legs.

You continue with, "Plus, I may or may not have fallen for you completely so I'm not going anywhere. Til death do us part, remember?"

There's almost a sparkle in Drew's eyes when you tell him that you might have fallen for him.

Your husband smiles and says, "I, uh, might've fallen for ya completely too."

You smile and lean into Drew. You kiss him slowly and softly. He kisses you back, pulling you closer to him.

The kiss is slow and full of passion. Your heart pounds in your chest as your lips move against Drew's.

Drew pulls back again and he says, "Let's find somewhere t'stay tonight. Do ya have a favorite hotel?"

You nod and say, "Yeah, it's in the city. Let's go."

The two of you get up and head to your favorite hotel.

***

The San Carlos Hotel. It's a cute little hotel, and not over the top fancy. You rent out a suite for the next few days, and they tell you that your stay is on the house because you're royalty. Sometimes being a royal has its perks.

The suite is a one bedroom suite. A full bathroom and walk in closet. Plus a living room area with a couch and a flat screen, and a kitchen.

Drew smiles when you unlock the door. You both walk in and you say, "Home sweet home while we tour New York."

He looks at you and say, "I'm glad ya didn't take the out when I offered it, Y/N. I didn't know ya were happy in Scotland. Honestly, I thought ya were miserable."

Giggling, you walk up to Drew and say, "Scotland is a beautiful country. I'm happy to be its princess, and eventually queen."

Your husband says, "Scotland's beauty is nothing compared to yers, Y/N."

Your cheeks heat up and say, "You are one unbelievably cheesy prince, you know that."

He laughs and says, "I take good pride in that. It's a talent."

Laughing, you begin to unpack. Drew disappears into the living room.

Once you've finished unpacking, you walk over to the window. You cross your arms over your chest and look out over the city that never sleeps.

Cars are still on the road and people are milling around on the sidewalks even though the sun has set.

You smile and keep looking out the window, until a pair of arms wraps around your shoulders. You don't have to look to know it's Drew. You lean back into him.

"I'll miss New York," you admit. "The city is always buzzing. It's the city that never sleeps, you know."

Drew presses a kiss to your temple and he says, "Just because we're gonna be king and queen doesn't mean we can't leave the country. We're not locked down in Scotland when we ascend the throne."

You sigh and say, "I know."

The two of you stand like that. You both look out over the city for several minutes.

Drew asks, "So, I did good?"

Nodding, you look up at Drew. "You did more than good," you say. "This has been the best trip of my life, and I'm glad you're here with me."

Your husband says, "I hope we can actually try at the relationship thing. I have a lot to learn still and-"

You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to Drew's lips to cut him off. He's caught off guard by the kiss but he kisses you back.

After a moment, you pull back and say, "We're gonna try at the relationship thing." You smile. "But I know that you know a decent amount about some parts of a relationship."

Drew says, "I know a lot less than ya think I know."

You turn in his arms and ask, "So if I asked you to, I don't know, take off my clothes, you wouldn't know how to do it?"

His face gets flustered as he stammers, "Well, I, uh, I know how to take off clothes, Y/N."

"I would hope so," you say, teasing him.

Drew smiles and says, "Listen, I don't know much about relationships but I know a lot about the physical parts."

You stare up at Drew and say, "Show me what you know."

"Y/N, we just talked about trying the relationship thing," he says, smiling. "I don't think we're ready for the next step."

A smile forms on your lips as you say, "We've already skipped a step or two. What's one more?"

Drew pushes some hair out of your face before he cups your face. He says, "I wanna do this the right way, Y/N."

You look up at Drew and you say, "There is no right way when we're in this situation."

He laughs softly and says, "Yer not wrong."

Leaning your head up, you say, "So show me what you got."

Drew smiles and leans down, bringing his lips to yours. The kiss is slow at first, full of passion. You wrap your arms around Drew's waist, holding him close to you.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for access. You part your lips slightly. His tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a soft sigh into the kiss.

Your heart is racing in your chest at the thought of Drew taking off your clothes. You've seen him without a shirt on, but he's always seen you clothed.

While you're busy thinking, Drew's fingers have started working on the zipper of the jacket you're wearing. He pushes the jacket off of you and you pull away from the kiss.

Your eyes meet Drew's and he asks, "Ya really want this?"

Nodding, you say, "I want this." You untuck the shirt he's wearing from his pants.

Drew smiles and picks you up by your waist. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks toward the bed. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck. You take out the hair tie that's keeping his hair in a ponytail.

"I don't want your hair up when we're together," you admit. "I like it down."

Your husband lays you gently on your back on the bed. He looks down at you and says, "Anything for my princess."

You giggle, "So cheesy."

Drew leans down and kisses you. Your fingers slide up into his long locks. One of Drew's hands roams your body over your clothes while you start to unbutton the button up that he's wearing.

Several months ago, you and Drew wouldn't even touch each other. Not even hand-holding. Now, you're underneath him on a bed.

Things have definitely changed for the better over the last few weeks between you and Drew. It feels like euphoria when he kisses you or touches you. You can only imagine how it'll feel when his fingers find their way into your pants or under your shirt.

You're barely able to control yourself as Drew's lips move from yours to your neck. Your eyes flutter closed and you run your fingers through Drew's long locks. His button up now hangs open after you got it unbuttoned.

Drew kisses and nips at the skin on your neck as you push the open button-up off his body. You run your fingers gently up his now bare arms until your hands cup his face. You bring Drew's head up, bringing his face out of your neck. You're breathing a little heavy as you meet Drew's pretty blue eyes.

You lean your head up and press your lips to Drew's hard. One of Drew's hands runs down the side of your body, grazing the side of your breast. You almost shiver with anticipation as Drew's fingers reach the bottom of your t-shirt.

He pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you. You sit up a bit and lift your arms over your head. Drew pulls the t-shirt off of you and discards it somewhere in the room. You're left in just a plain, black bra and pants. You didn't think you'd be doing this or you would have worn a fancier undergarment.

"God," Drew says, eyes wondering over your half naked upper body. Your cheeks get hot as he looks at you underneath him.

He shifts his weight so he's kneeling between your legs. He pulls your hips toward him. You feel the bulge in Drew's pants against your clothed crotch and you gasp slightly. Your husband sits on his heels as he looks at you.

You stare at Drew, waiting anxiously for him to make a move. Your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Drew hooks his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them off your body slowly. They join your shirt on the hotel floor. He leans down and starts to lightly kiss your belly. You giggle and look down at him. His lips trail up your belly until he reaches the bra you're wearing. He undoes the front clasp and the bra falls open, exposing your breasts to Drew. Your breath hitches as he uses a finger and plays with one of your nipples. He kisses the other breast before sucking on that nipple.

You bite back a moan as you slightly arch your back off the mattress. The hand playing with your nipple moves down your body. Drew's fingers slip into the waistband of your panties and you sigh. You lick your bottom lip as his fingers inch closer to their target.

Your husband's eyes flicker up to your face and he watches for your reaction as two of his fingers run through your slick folds. Your eyes flutter closed and you smile, grasping onto the blankets on the bed.

His fingers tease your clit and you say in a whispered tone, "Don't tease." Drew teases your entrance and you let out a quiet moan.

"That was the prettiest things I've ever heard come from ya're mouth," Drew stares.

You get all flustered and say, "It's not nice to be a tease, Drew."

He presses a light kiss to your jaw and mumbles, "Tell me what ya want, princess."

Almost begging him, you say, "I want to feel your fingers inside me. Please."

Gently, Drew starts to pull off your panties. The fabric is thrown to the floor and you pull off the bra. You're completely naked in front of Drew, and you feel comfortable. You trust that Drew won't do anything to hurt you. He's the kind of man to make sure that you're okay with something before he does it.

Drew runs a finger through your soaked folds before he pushes that finger inside of you. You bite your lip to hold back your moans. Drew's hovering above your naked body. His lips are on your neck again, nipping at the skin and definitely leaving marks.

His finger moves in and out of you. You let your lip go and let out the moans you were holding in. Then Drew adds a second finger. You gasp and moan, "Drew."

"Making ya feel good with just my fingers?" Drew mumbles against your neck.

You nod frantically and say, "I love your finger."

He smirks and says, "I can promise ya that they love ya too."

The speed of his fingers quickens and your hips buck off the bed. You moan his name and a few profanities. A knot forms in your stomach.

You're intoxicated with how Drew is making you feel. You love the feeling of Drew's fingers inside of you. His touch makes you feel euphoric and waves of bliss overcome you with every flick of his wrist.

Your walls clench around Drew's fingers and you cry out, "Drew, I'm about to cum!"

The Scotsman's voice drops a tone and he asks, "Ya gonna cum from my fingers, princess? Do I make ya feel that good?"

Nodding, you desperately say, "I need to cum. Please."

"Go ahead, my love," he says.

Your legs begin to shake as you release all over Drew's fingers. More than you ever have for anyone before. Moans pass your lips as well as Drew's name mixed with profanities. Your breathing is labored as you come down from your high. Drew kisses you as you try to catch your breath.

Your lips move feverishly against his for a few moments before Drew gets back on his knees. You sit up with him between your legs and undo the button on his jeans. You look up at him as you push the dark blue fabric off his body. He's left in his boxer shorts as he sits back. You crawl onto his lap, straddling his huge bulge. You run your fingers down Drew's chest and he looks up at you.

"I have t'get something if we're gonna do this, princess," Drew says, pecking your lips. "Unless ya want to start producing heirs t'the throne right now."

You giggle and say, "Let's wait a year before we start doing that."

He smiles and snakes his way out from under you. You sit on the bed and watch as he grabs a little silver package out of the travel bag. He walks back over to you and you move to the edge of the bed.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pull them down. Drew watches you as his erect member pops out of the boxers. His big, and thick. You swallow a bit and look up at Drew.

He's smirking down at you before ripping the tiny package open and sliding the contents on himself. Drew pushes a piece of hair out of your face and says, "Be a good princess. Get on yer back and spread those beautiful legs for me."

You don't say anything, you just do as your told. You scooch yourself back on the bed and lay on your back. You spread your legs a bit as Drew crawls up to you, hovering over you between your legs. The tip of his member runs through your folds and you sigh.

"I've been missing out on a lot," you admit, looking up at Drew.

Your husband lightly kisses you as he says, "I have a lot t'offer."

Smiling against his lips, you say, "I can see that."

Drew props himself up on his arms, hands on either side of your head. You stare up at him before he asks, "Are ya sure ya want this?"

You nod and say, "I've never wanted anything more."

Then he pushes inside you. You gasp at the small amount of pain you feel before it goes away, turning to pleasure. He thrusts slowly into you, moving deeper every few movements. His length starts to fill you little by little. You're a moaning mess beneath Drew, nails raking up and down his back.

When he's fully inside you and you're adjusted, his hips speed up. He starts thrusting harder into you. Grunts leave his lips as moans leave yours. You wrap your legs around his waist so he has better access.

"Oh, fuck," you cry out. "Don't stop, Drew. Oh, faster. Please."

He listens to your wishes and he moves faster. He leans down and brushes his lips against yours. You lean your head up for the kiss and he pulls back slightly. You chase his lips and they barely touch his.

The tip of Drew's member finds your g-spot and you cry out. That's when he knows he's found the target, and he moves faster. His member slams into your g-spot over and over again. You scream out his name mixed with profanities several times as he fucks you into the mattress.

The same knot from earlier forms in your stomach as Drew builds you up to a second orgasm.

Drew's finally kissing you. Your lips move against his breathlessly and your nails dig into his sides. He twitches inside of you and you mumble, "I'm about to cum, baby."

"Me too," Drew says. "Together."

You nod. He moves a few more times before you both cum at the same time. You around him and him into the condom.

Drew kisses you messily as you both ride out your highs. Your hands are on his face as you messily make out with him.

He pulls out of you and pulls back from the kiss. You whine a bit as he ties off the condom, throwing it away. Drew helps you under the comforter before joining you. Drew spoons you from behind with one of his arms draped over you. You hold his hand as you press your back to his chest.

Both your breathing and Drew's breathing have returned to normal. He leaves soft kisses on your shoulder and a smile is on you lips.

"That was amazing," you say. "I really could've had that the entire time instead of fighting with you."

Drew lets out a breathy laugh and says, "I should've just talked to ya about everything sooner. We could'a done that a long time ago."

You giggle and say, "Now that we have done that, I don't know how long I can go before we do that again."

Your husband says, "Whenever ya want, princess. Hell, if ya wanted another go then I wouldn't say no."

Looking back at Drew, you say, "Calm down. You just made me cum twice within several minutes. I need some time."

Drew smiles and says, "Of course. Were ya seriously about that waiting a year before we start trying for a baby?"

"Of course I was," you say, turning and facing Drew. "I would love to have a baby with you, but I want to make sure that it's something we both want. I'm ten year younger than you, Drew. We have some time."

Your husband smiles wide and kisses you. "I am so in love with ya, princess," Drew coos against your lips.

"I'm so in love with you too, Drew," you respond.

Months ago, you hated the thought of marrying Drew just for him to become king. You never even wore your rings behind closed doors. Now, it's changed into something more. An actual relationship where you love Drew and he loves you.

That's all you hoped for when you said 'I do' to the prince of Scotland.

—

tags: @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

#drew mcintyre imagine #drew mcintyre x reader #drew x reader #drew mcintyre smut #drew mcintyre fluff #wrestling imagine #wrestling fluff #wrestling smut #wwe imagine #wwe fluff #wwe smut #nswf imagine #imagines #imagine #smut #fluff #fluff imagine #smut imagine

[itsmeevie01]

A Moment in Time-Ch 5

I'm back! lots of things to come, and a slightly longer, Tim centered, chapter! and...the build-up to the Timari subplot! 

Yay!

 I know that is what everyone is actually here for lol.

Tim was tired of looking for Jason.

He wasn’t at any of his normal safe houses, and none of his usual contacts had heard from him in the last few weeks. Three weeks after the ridiculous scandal had broken, the press had all but forgotten Tim for the time being. As he ducked through alleyways, the teen couldn’t help but be thankful as he climbed back on his bike and sped back towards Wayne Manor.

He was done waiting for his brother to show up. There was something sketchy going on in their city, and if Jason wasn’t going to show up, then it was no longer his concern.

When he got home, Tim found Bruce waiting for him in the study looking over the side gardens. The older C.E.O.’s face was grim.

When Tim approached the desk, Bruce handed him a stack of papers. As Tim started to page through them, he had a flashback to when Jared Stone had brought the pile of tabloids.

As he flipped through the new stack, Tim realized that it was Jason’s credit card statement. And-was that…? “did he buy a ticket for Paris? Why didn’t we get notified about his passport passing through customs? Why is Jason in France of all places?” when he looks back at his adoptive father, the man’s face was grim.

“I don’t know, Tim. But we sure as hell are going to find out. Go to his apartment. I know you have a key. We need to see if he left anything out from before he left.” Bruce paused before adding, “he’s been gone for two weeks. There has to be a reason.” Tim nodded as he moved to stride from the room before Alfred spoke, shocking both Bruce and Tim.

“Maser Bruce, did you by chance call Master Jason? Last I remember, his cell phone was still working.” The father and son froze, before turning to the family Butler, slack-jawed.

“We really are stupid.”

 Damian didn’t see anything wrong with Todd being gone. It was quieter around the Manor and it meant that the 13-year-old was allowed to patrol through Crime Alley by himself, something none of his predecessors had been able to do at his age.

As the young teen flew over the city, his mind raced. He found this the most relaxing part of his time with his father.

At the manor, there was always something going on and there was always someone looking over his shoulder. Here, as he went rooftop to rooftop, arching over this city, the boy was able to finally find some peace.

A sound over his earpiece broke Robin from his quiet elation. “Robin, how are you doing? Is everything clear?” oracle’s voice filtered through, bringing him to relax. Oracle he could handle.

“it’s a regular night, Oracle. A few of the regulars. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“perfect. Finish up and head back, B wants you back before 2 because you have school tomorrow.”

The annoyed “Tch” that came down the line made the redhead laugh from where she sat at the computer.

 Tim had texted Jason before he had left for patrol. When he got back, there was a response waiting for him.

Jason: in Paris. I’ll be back soonish

Tim: Jay, what’s soonish?

Tim: there’s a situation we need your help with.

Jason: kid, I'll be back when I can.

Jason: if B cares, tell him Gina kidnapped me. I’m staying with her right now.

Jason: otherwise, just wait. It's personal business.

Tim: Jay, we are your family. Doesn’t that make it our business too?

Jason: in this case, no. fuck off, replacement

Tim: See you when you get back Jay

 The teen sighed. It was just like Jason to try and handle everything himself. This time, Tim couldn’t play interference either, he was stuck across an ocean. He just hoped this Gina person wasn’t as impulsive as his older brother. If she was, they would all be in trouble.

 As he made his way to his room, having showered and gotten himself ready for the next day, Tim paused by his desk.

He had taken the time to compile a file on the girl from a few weeks ago but hadn’t read it yet. He knew that if he was to read it, it would be violating her privacy, but he did that every day, so was this any different? To Tim, the only difference was that this girl wasn’t someone to watch or take in. she was just a normal girl with a normal life, who had run into him for a split second.

It wasn’t like he was going to meet her, right?

The teen shook his head and flopped onto his bed. It wasn’t worth it tonight. He could have the moral debate with himself when he was properly rested.

 Maybe he should have called in sick. Tim was definitely finding a way to leave early, as he looked at the list of meetings that he had been scheduled for.

Why had he agreed to this again? He could have sworn that he had told his assistant that Wednesday was his day to go home and work on his college classes. Instead, Tim had a feeling that he was going to be at the office late.

On his off night too.

 Partway through the day, he noticed an email that he didn’t recognize in his personal inbox. The inbox that he probably shouldn’t have been checking on the company computer but…

After a moment of hesitation, the young C.E.O. had clicked on the new email and blinked at what pulled up.

  From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Mr. Drake,

My name is Marinette Dupain Cheng. I believe that we ran into each other quite literally a month and a half ago, approximately. As I am sure that you have at least seen the fictitious stories floating through the media, I assume that you are aware of the interaction that I am referring to.

Originally, I had no intention of reaching out, but a friend of mine encouraged me to reach out. (had actually was the one to give me your email. Does the name Jason Todd ring a bell?) I do hope that this whole press fiasco hasn’t hindered you too terribly.

Kindest Regards,

Marinette Dupain Cheng

 Tim blinked once before rereading the short email that the girl had sent. No. no way. She knew Jason? And what did she mean, Jason was the one to encourage her to reach out? Opening up a new draft, Tim hesitated before flicking his wrists to rid himself of tension and trying his reply.

 From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Miss Dupain Cheng,

I was surprised to receive your email, but it seems that it came at a fortunate time. Yes, I do know Jason Todd. I know him quite well, actually. He and I were adopted by the same man, Bruce Wayne. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you meet my brother?

I must apologize, for the whole scandal from last month. I know that neither of us were directly responsible, but I do feel bad for any trouble it may have caused you. If it is not too much of an intrusion, I might also ask, how were you able to respond so quickly? The only reason I knew about the incident was Bruce’s old friend Jared. The man came into my office in a fit about the nerve of the photographer.

(if you ever meet the man, you will understand what I mean when I say that he never does things halfway. He had picked up a copy of every magazine or tabloid that ran a story about it. When he came in, he actually brought his crocodile as well. Fang scared the lobby staff more than anything has for the past bit, I believe.)

I hope this finds you well,

Timothy Drake Wayne

 After reading through his email one more time to make sure it sounded professional enough, Tim hit the send button and let out a deep breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling that this was the start of something important.

Suddenly, Tim was very glad he hadn’t read the girl’s file.

 As he was preparing to head to yet another meeting later that afternoon, Tim glanced at his personal email again. To his surprise, the teen was met with another email from the French girl.

 From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Mr. Drake (or is it Drake Wayne?)

Jason was sitting next to me when I opened your last email. Imagine my surprise when he panicked. Apparently, he had decided against informing any of his family of his departure. I must say, his reaction was quite entertaining.

Onto your question from your email, Penny Rolling, a good friend of mine, dropped off a box full of the tabloid trash that her husband, Jagged had shipped to her as soon as she got it. After my initial reaction, the two of us got a good laugh out of the whole situation. Especially when we heard that Jagged tried to bring Fang into your office! I guess to you, he would be Jared, but to me, he will always be my Uncle Jagged.

In other news, I thought it would be polite to pass on that Jason will be returning in the next few days. He has been fretting over a family emergency, not that he will tell me what it is but, there is only so much I can do. However, I thought it might be prudent to forewarn you that he will be bringing my grandmother back with him. Nona said it was something to do with one of his ‘side hustles’. Knowing those two, however, makes me think that Jason has gotten himself into something significantly illegal this time.

No need to apologize for something that neither of us could control! You did not ask for the photographer to take that ridiculous photo, nor did you ask for the fiction writers who work for the tabloids to write a piece of the photo. That said, I do feel that it has opened many new avenues. I know that Jason and I reconnected because of the photo, and it has given my lawyers something to focus on while we wait on proceedings for other matters.

Have a good day,

Marinette Dupain Cheng

 Jason was coming home sooner than he planned. It seemed like Tim’s text had actually gotten through to his older brother.

With a sigh, he marked the email as important so that he would remember to respond to it before he started on his homework.

The teen C.E.O. snagged his thermos of coffee on the way out the door, he had a meeting to go to.

And...there it is! this week I'm going to try and work out my posting schedule. what did everyone think of the emails?

  i know that there are a lot more people in the Wayne/bat family, so I'm going to work them in a little bit at a time. as far as Dick Grayson is concerned, btw he knows about the scandal but not about Jason's sister or that he's not in Gotham.

MasterPost

Tag List

@moonlitceleste @redscarlet95 @ultimatetornshipper @mochegato @liquid-luck-00 @maskedpainter 

@trippingovermyfeet @nathleigh @m0chick0furan @susiej1118@t1dwarrior-of-earth

#a moment in time fic #miraculous ladybug #ml x dc #mlb #timari #timinette #sibling!jasonette #Cat!marinette

[jesuiscalmedammit]

Mistakes Were Made – (2) The Truth || [Russell Adler x reader/fem!Bell]

note: part 1. the first half takes place before the end game. 

“Hey, you wanna talk about what happened?”

You looked up only to find Alex sitting next to you with a surprisingly genuine smile. But what could you tell him? Even you didn’t know how to feel about this whole mess you were in. You had told Russell the truth back in the safehouse and you were ready to help but… what would happen after that? Was there a chance you could ever have a normal life? It was confusing. Also, it’s not like he would understand what you went through.

Shaking your head, you eventually let out a sigh. “No, not really,” you told him.

“I know what being brainwashed and used like this feels like.” How the hell did he know you were just thinking about that? But you didn’t really get it. How would he know? “The Russians did the same thing to me a long time ago,” he answered the question you never asked.

This was new. And the more you thought about it, the less you understood why he was still willing to do this job after going through something like this. “Did Russell tell you that there had been no need for them to do this to me? I was already–No, I was always on your side.” He raised an eyebrow and slightly tilted his head to the side as he tried to figure out what that meant. “I was always working for the CIA. Things just… didn’t end well for me. It’s a long story.”

“We have time. I’m listening.”

You looked around to see if anyone else from the group was listening, but you were alone. Woods was the only one who glanced in your way every now and then, probably just to check on Alex, but apart from that, no one really cared about you. “All right, fine. I was born in Eastern Europe, that’s true, but my parents came to the United States as political refugees when I was around two so I grew up there. When I was in college my parents died in a car accident caused by some idiot who sat behind the wheel while being so drunk he could barely walk.

A few days later Timothy Clarkson from the CIA contacted me and explained the drunk guy was actually working for the KGB and killed my parents for the very reason they had fled their home country back in the day. He believed they might try to kill or recruit me after what happened and if it was the latter, they would blame the Americans and their lifestyle for my parents’ death to convince me to join them. Clarkson offered a chance to get revenge by becoming a double agent.

He and Henry Keen were the only ones who knew about this deal, about me, and there was no physical evidence either. After a while, I ended up working with Perseus and everything went well until Adler and his team captured me. Little did I know that not long before this Clarkson had been murdered on Perseus’ orders and Keen was left in a coma after a failed assassination. Long story short, there was no living or at least a conscious person who knew about my story.

When Adler interrogated me, I immediately told him I’m only willing to talk to Clarkson or Keen. Clarkson had given me a very clear order at the beginning and that was never to tell anyone who I was or what I know except them. He didn’t trust anyone, not even inside the CIA. This is why when Adler told me what happened to them, I assumed he was lying to make me talk so I kept everything to myself.

I didn’t think they would end up brainwashing me,” you noted with a sad smile. “And I sure as hell didn’t expect Russell to emotionally manipulate me like this only to make me behave.”

“Wait, don’t shoot! Hudson got a call and they verified her story!”

You wanted to lower your gun and let out a relieved sigh upon hearing Alex’s words, but you also knew now that blindly trusting Russell was not an option. He would surely pull the trigger the moment you paid less than enough attention to the situation. There was no way you would risk dying now that you got so close to being free again. This double life you’d been living had already taken away way too much from you.

Maybe you remembered this deep down even while you were brainwashed and controlled, this is why you were so desperate to have something remotely normal in your life. Normal… like… being in a relationship. You craved the feeling of being loved and protected and for your bad luck, Russell was there to use this against you. How the hell could you fall for him?

“So she was telling the truth?” Russell asked as he finally lowered his gun.

Yes, dipshit! God, you were, without doubt, spending way too much time in Wood’s company. Good thing you didn’t say it out loud otherwise you’d never hear the end of it.

Alex nodded. “Yeah,” he said as he walked over to you and put his hand on your gun. “Come on, it’s time to go home.” He even flashed a cautious yet reassuring smile at you as he took the weapon from your hand and put it away safely.

Alex had told you he was brainwashed by the Russians before and this was enough to make you trust him. He knew what you went through and so he was probably the only person who understood how you felt now. You needed this, you needed someone who could help you get over this nightmare.

“Bell, wait!”

“Adler, I don’t think this is the right time for that,” Alex stopped him before you could react. “Believe me.”

But he didn’t seem to give up because he once again opened his mouth. This time you didn’t wait for Alex, you handled it yourself. “There’s nothing to talk about, you almost killed me. I know this was a fucked-up situation but at least Hudson did his fucking job to try and verify my story.”

“Well, to be honest, I was the one who tracked down Keen,” Alex admitted as he scratched the back of his neck. “But sure, let Hudson take all the credit.”

Both you and Russell gave him a disapproving look. This wasn’t the right time to make such jokes. Even if he was only trying to elevate the mood, this wasn’t the right way to do it. Of course, it didn’t mean you weren’t grateful because you truly felt saved by him. Still…

“Can we just go?” you asked in the end.

“Sure, come with me,” he said as he put a hand on your shoulder.

You didn’t have to look in his way to know Adler wasn’t happy to watch you leave. But what was he expecting after this madness? Yes, at the end of the day it really was a series of unfortunate events that led to this, but he could’ve tried a bit harder to make sure you were lying before pointing a gun at you.

note: this is a russell/reader fic, but i’m still thinking about alex and bell bonding over the fact they were both brainwashed before and.. wel... one more reason for russell to be mad. also, thanks for all the positive feedbacks!!!!

taglist: @deviljoonie​ @ktdragonborn​

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #black ops cold war #russell adler fanfiction #russell adler x bell #russell adler x fem!bell #black ops cold war fanfiction #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #fic: Mistakes Were Made

[wayward-mikaelson]

Winter's Doll--Final Chapter

Word Count: 1832

About: Nadia meets with the president and Bucky has a bad feeling about it

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC (Female)

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Mentions of Corrupt Government, Talks of bribery

A/N: Sorry this is out super late. I got busy and then got sick and then my son started school.

Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist

Winter's Doll Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Favorite Fics

Forever Tags: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @elansaidaris @magssteenkamp @440mxs-wife

Marvel Tags: @soccer-100000

Story Tags: @supernatural-love14 @loudlylovingalpaca @kingkhibas

Seb/Bucky Tags: Open

Nadia stepped out of the car and onto the patio of the White House. Her entire body was shaking, the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and her heart was racing like a racehorse who began their race. Nadia’s mind was also racing. She had so many questions to ask the president and when she tried to ask over the phone, the president wouldn’t let her get a single word out. Except that she wanted to talk to Nadia in private.

Fury had seen the expression on Nadia’s face when the president asked about talking in Private. Natasha was also in the room, and Natasha let Nadia know that this didn’t sit well with her. That she should think about it. But Nadia already knew what she wanted.

Nadia agreed to the meeting.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Bucky pulled Nadia around by the arm. He and Steve had insisted that they come as moral support. Well, Steve was moral support, Bucky was there to make sure Nadia was safe. “You can always send me or Steve in there to tell the president that you change your mind.”

Nadia shook her head and licked her lips. “I got this,” Nadia rested a hand on Bucky’s. She looked up at him and saw how those blue eyes stared right into her dark one. He knew she wasn’t sure but respected that. “If I had to send someone in, then it would be Steve.”

“Why Steve?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. There’s a hint of playfulness in his eyes that had Nadia’s lips twitching into a small smile.

“Because Steve will keep it diplomatic where as you,” Naida took a step closer to Bucky and hooked her index finger into a strap on his suit. She thought to the quickie the two of them shared before taking off a few hours before. “You’d probably be led out by the Secret Service or in handcuffs. Which I wouldn’t be opposed to as I seem to remember you liking them the other night.” Nadia winked at Bucky who smirked.

“You’re right,” Bucky’s hand slowly slid up to cup Nadia’s chin. “Just be careful. The government has given you every reason not to trust them.”

Nadia leaned forwards and gave Bucky a small peck on the cheek. “I will.”

Nadia turned on her heel and made her way towards the door where a man stood waiting. Instantly, Nadia got some weird vibes off him and turned to see both Steve and Bucky standing side by side with their arms crossed.

***

Bucky watched as Nadia turned towards the man and gave him a smile and shook his hand. Once they disappeared behind the closing doors, Bucky turned to Steve. “I don’t like this,” he said, dropping his arms. “This doesn’t feel right at all.”

“I’m sure everything will be fine, Buck,” Steve said. “Nadia knows how to handle herself.”

“I know that, Steve,” Bucky muttered. “It’s this whole government trying to silence anyone, like her brother. What if that’s what they wanted to meet or worse?”

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged and crossed his arms again. “Probably a good thing I called Sam and have him laying low on some rooftop.”

“You did what?” Steve shook his head. “You know what, if it does turn ugly, probably having Sam nearby will help. But we aren’t going on the run again.”

Bucky and Steve stood there in silence waiting for Nadia to come out. Bucky still couldn’t shake that something was going to happen. Bucky cared for Nadia deepy, probably just as much as he cared for Steve. He’d do just about anything to make sure Steve and Nadia were safe.

Come to think of it, Bucky was starting to realize that he didn’t care for Nadia. He loved her and would probably use Steve as a body shield to make sure Nadia was safe and sound.

***

Nadia sat in the Oval Office and twiddled her thumbs around. She’s toured the White House a few times and has seen the Oval Office. But Nadia never spent more than a few minutes there. Here she was, going on almost thirty minutes of waiting for the president to come and talk with her.

To be honest, Nadia was nervous as hell. She had a feeling that something was going to go wrong. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, she needed to have Bucky in here with her. But the moment Nadia looked at her phone, she saw that she had no signal whatsoever. The feeling in Nadia’s gut got more intense.

“So,” a voice entered the room. Nadia turned to see the President of the United States waltz into the room. Her ginger hair flowing about her shoulders and her bright green eyes bore right into Nadias.

“What are we going to do with you? ”Her beige pantsuit looked a little too tight and Nadia was sure that a button would pop off them the moment she sat down.

“What?” Nadia asked. She instantly got a bad feeling about the woman in front of her. “I thought we were here to talk about my brother?”

The president leaned back and took a glass of water from her person next to her. “We are,” she answered after taking a long drink. “We are also going to discuss how you will stay quiet about all this. How does a mansion and yacht sound?”

***

Steve’s phone rang in his pocket. Without taking his eyes off the guard that was staring him and Bucky down, he reached into his pocket. “Hello?”

“Cap,” it was Sam. “It doesn’t look too pretty in there.”

“You have a visual on Nadia?” Cap whispered.

“Yep, Bucky told me to make it happen so I have Red Wing hovering close enough to see in.” Sam answered. “That dude that knew Nadia is in the room with her and the President.”

Steve turned to Bucky who was now staring at him. “The mission where that dude knew Nadia? What was his name?”

Bucky’s heart stopped. Of course he remembered this dude. He got a bad vibe off him right off the bat. “Timothy Ketch? What about him?”

“You guys may want to head in there,” Sam’s voice sounded concerned. “Nadia looks pissed as shit in there. I don’t think I’ve seen her face look that red and deadly.”

Steve hung up the phone and looked at Bucky. Bucky knew instantly that something was up. “Who are you calling now?” Bucky noticed Steve put his phone back to his ear.

“Hey, we have a situation. You’ve been compromised. Take everyone and head underground.” Steve hung up his phone again. “Let’s go.”

Bucky followed Steve into the White House and towards the Oval Office. The closer they got, the more Bucky could hear Nadia’s voice. She didn’t sound at all happy. In fact, Bucky could hear all the fowl language coming from Nadia’s mouth.

“No!” Nadia’s voice echoed around the corner. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

Steve and Bucky rounded the corner to see Nadia being held by two secret service men. The look on Nadia’s face brightened up when she saw them. Bucky saw a forming bruise on her hand and he knew that Nadia had thrown all she had into that punch.

“How's the other guy?” Bucky asked, a smiled pulling on the corner of his lips. Steve nudged him. “What? I want to know?”

“Oh Tim,” Nadia chuckled then groaned. The two men that held her pushed her onto a wall. “I’m certain I broke his nose. Hey, fellas, gentle there I’m a woman. Or do you not care since I won’t comply with your order to shut the fuck up and tell no one about how you’re selling off soldiers.”

Steve stepped forward. “I’m going to need you to let her go.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” one of the men looked at Steve. “President Tyler ordered her to be arrested. She’s a traitor to the country.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Nadia groaned and faster than the two men that held her, Nadia snapped her head back and hit one man. He let go and that was enough for Nadia to whip around and free herself from the other man by chi blocking him. “Now, that was kind of pathetic. You should have known to go up against someone your people have trained to sell off.” She knelt down next to the guy with limp arms and smiled an evil smile at him. “Not only that, but against an Avenger.”

Nadia stood up and looked at Steve and Bucky. “Clint has your family safe,” he whispered when Nadia was within ear shot.

“Good,” Nadia looked behind her and back at Steve and Bucky. “I have a press conference to go to. Call Stark, make sure he can keep at least one camera rolling.” Before the two men can say anything, Nadia quickly walked away.

“So she wants us to have Tony hack into the government?” Bucky asked, looking confused. Living for a little more than a century, there were times Bucky was still stuck in the 40’s. “Can he even do that?”

“He’s Howard's kid,,” Steve answered. “He will be more than happy to.” Steve pulled out his phone and dialed Tony’s number.

Bucky turned to the nearest television and watched as Nadia took over. Her dark hair hung around her shoulders. He could see the small tremors of her hands. Nadia was nervous but the look in her eyes pretty much said that she was going to do this no matter the consequence.

As Nadia spoke, Bucky could hear the small shake in her voice but the firmness as she spoke of her brother, that told Bucky that she had it all under control. Bucky ignored the chaos that was ensuing around both him and Steve. No matter how many times the feed was cut off, it was always brought back. Tony was working hard to keep it all running. Bucky made a mental note to thank Tony for doing this.

Then something happened.

Reports were being made about how the press conference wasn’t just being broadcasted to those who were watching it on the news. It was being broadcasted just about everywhere from Malibu to London. Tony was making sure that it literally got everywhere.

Getting Nadia out wasn’t hard at all. Not after the threat she made, one that would have both Fury and Steve hiding her out until all this was blown over and taken care of. Bucky didn’t like the thought of having Nadia away so who knows how long. It literally made his heart ache. So he volunteered to go with her, to help keep her safe.

“I got you,” Bucky said as they loaded up the SUV with bags. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I’ll keep you safe, Doll.”

#Winter's Doll #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #Bucky Barnes x OC #bucky barnes x reader #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel comics #Marvel fanfic #Marvel Imagine #Mcu fanfic #MCU Imagine #Sebastian Stan #The Winter Soldier #White Wolf

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Understudy

Tim’s plastic surgeries have made him physically indistinguishable from Jack. When both are caught by bandits with a score to settle, Tim puts his acting skills to use to protect Jack, despite how much the CEO rants otherwise.

Tim is way too good at what he does, and he suffers for it.

This is Day 5′s sentence prompt fill for FebuWhump: “Take me instead”

This labeled as Understudy. Also on my ao3 here. My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here. 

--

Jack had always applauded Tim’s acting skills. The guy was talented as hell. Sometimes Jack couldn’t even remember which of them it was in his biopics that they watched together. Tim sometimes seemed like he knew him better than he knew himself, and he trusted the younger man’s judgment when he slipped into important roles that Jack himself couldn’t be there to fill.

Right now, though, Jack wanted nothing more than for the handsome idiot to shut that gorgeous mouth and stop claiming that he was Jack. But Tim wouldn’t do it; kept pushing the inbred bandit clan that had taken them, and they were taking it out on the younger man’s body.

Tim was taking a beating meant for him, and the double wouldn’t drop the act, despite how Jack yelled at him otherwise. He was bleeding already from the mouth and nose, still standing somehow, but his arms were bound behind his back, and he was kept from retaliating by two brain-dead lunks gripping him at the elbows.

Jack wasn’t scared at first-- didn’t want to accept that he was scared now- but he didn’t know how much more the double could take. There hadn’t been any demands made yet. No trying to extort cash or guns or anything that might tempt the usual Pandoran idiots; Jack didn’t know how to manipulate the situation to their advantage. It seemed like all they wanted was to lay down some hurt on Jack.

But without knowing who was who-- they’d both said they were Jack when it had come to it- the bandits had had to choose who to start with.

Apparently, Tim made a more convincing Jack than Jack did.

Tim’s left eye was swollen shut, bruising already darkening the flesh as he visibly began to sag against those flanking him; they made sure Tim stayed up while their boss laid into him.

Jack couldn’t handle not being able to do anything. Not being able to command Tim to shut up and tell them who he really was. Not being able to put a damn bullet through their thick skulls. “I told you morons, he’s a double!!” Jack raged from where he was trapped in what more or less amounted to a human birdcage in the room. “Timothy!! Goddammit, tell them who you are!”

Tim spat blood on the floor, then laughed. “...he’s good, right?” Tim boasted with a rough, cocky sort of tone, looking up. He hurt all over, and they hadn’t really even begun yet in his opinion. Right now it was still just fists laying into him. And that was something Tim knew that he could take.

But what he couldn’t take was letting them have Jack. If he could do anything, he wanted to protect the CEO while he could; buy more time while their drones must be trying to locate them.

Tim gave Jack a smile, something genuinely amused in his words even for how bloody his smile was. “I get what you’re trying to do here, kiddo, but I’m the hero of this story. Me. The real Jack.” Jack made a face, and Tim fell back on the easy speech patterns of a calm, confident CEO of Hyperion. He could see the effect it had on the older man; he knew he was good, and he knew Jack wished he wasn’t right then. “It’ll take more than these assholes to do in your pal Jack, cupc--”

The punch to Tim’s midsection knocked the wind out of the double with a painful sound, and Tim dropped to his knees and bent over himself wheezing for air as their assailants laughed.

Jack was scared that the younger man was going to get himself killed at this rate.

Not that Jack didn’t think they weren’t going to kill the both of them anyways, but there was no reason to hurry that process along. And Tim’s smart mouth-- Jack’s smart mouth- was going to get him into trouble.

“Tim!”

“...Yeah, fuck this,” their boss spoke as he finally wiped Tim’s blood off his hands and onto his pants.

Tim stayed down still trying to catch his breath. Jack hoped that meant that this was done. That they’d quit for the day-- or at very least trade Tim out for Jack. This never should’ve happened to Tim. Loyalty, love, regardless, Tim should not be experiencing this.

“Take ‘im downstairs. Put ‘im in the chair.”

Tim was hoisted up by his arms, weakly slumped forward in their grasp as blood and saliva dripped from his mouth to the floor. He couldn’t lift his head, but he’d caught his breath; he was still defiant.

“...I can... take whatever you dish out… butthead.” He grunted in pain as he was hoisted up further, and Jack absolutely rattled the cage with helpless panic. They’d kill him. They were gonna kill Tim. He was absolutely gonna be killed. And Jack couldn’t do anything.

“No! No, hey! Take me, you assholes! He’s just a liberal arts major! He’s a stupid-good actor with expensive surgery!!” Jack shouted out. He railed on, chest tight with a sudden panic that he wasn’t going to see Tim come back up alive if they took him now. He was stuck in this damn cage, helpless to stop it, and the thought of losing the other man was too much to even consider.

It had Jack scared to death.

“He’s a useless double!! I’m Handsome Jack! Me, you shit for brains! Take me instead!”

Jack could hear Tim’s cries echoing up the stairwell from where they’d taken him. He didn’t know what they were doing, but he screamed his throat raw trying to convince them who he was: gloating about smaller victories in non-publicized towns on Pandora. Of the finer details of murdering Tassiter; of things that he knew Tim could never hazard guesses at all; things which incriminated him a far deal more than Jack wanted to admit to himself

Something must have worked along the way, because one of them came up for him and took Jack below as well with utter outrage.

Both of them woke up in Hyperion medical beds several days later, whole if not worse for wear.

Jack wished he could remember what had happened once he’d been taken below. He remembered putting up a hell of a fight. That much he was certain of. He had the feeling he’d blinded one of them with just his fingers, but there was no telling for sure. The unit that had rescued them had cleaned up the whole town and murdered everyone in the compound, so he supposed it didn’t matter in the end anyways. The hero won.

Tim no longer sounded like Jack. But he didn’t sound like himself, either. Voice modulator improperly removed, and a reconstructive surgery hours later to fix it, and Tim was joking about this voice still sounding better than his original one, but already missing the sound of ‘his’ old voice.

He wasn’t going to be Jack’s double again for a long time. Not if their new menagerie of scars were any kind of indicator. The one at Tim’s throat was especially brutal; he didn’t know when he’d be able to get back on the job convincingly unless Jack took to wearing turtlenecks.

Jack had a different solution for the problem entirely.

He told Tim in a voice that left zero room for argument that Tim was retiring from the double program with a generous severance package… Or else.

Tim was frankly not keen on finding out what ‘or else’ might entail, but when he told Jack that he had a generous package for the older man as well, the CEO just smirked.

At least Tim’s good humor survived everything, and for everything else, well, the painkillers certainly helped matters.

–

my kofi | ao3 main

#jackothy #handsome jack #timothy lawrence #jackothy fanfic #borderlands #febwhump 2021 #my fic #implied torture and non graphic beatings :) #timtams is one hell of a tough cookie

[kindness-bliss]

New Beginnings Ch. 8

Timothy Thatcher x OC

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Maya got ready at her shoot as she looked at herself in the mirror and scrolled through her instagram feed to let time pass, searching Tim’s name in the search bar as she looked through as raised a brow at how many fans adored him and posted pictures with him and events   “Well damn, he’s wanted” she nodded impressed as she continued to read captions, not understanding most of them since they were in German, raising a brow as she saw heart emojis on captions “Too bad he’s mine��. She grinned as she saw more and more from men she assumed were his friends always talking about how respectful and hardworking he was in the business   She sat up startled from her lurking when she heard a familiar voice and sighed “Are you kidding me ? What the hell are you doing here ? This is a private shoot”    Marcel sighed as he stepped through and thanked the security guard “I saw you on the same company’s page who works hair and makeup for NXT, I put 2 and 2 together when I saw their stories and you happened to be tagged. I know, it’s very stalker of me”    “Extremely” she answered sternly as she covered herself in her robe “who does that ? This is my job you psycho. Once again, head empty no thoughts in that pretty big ass head of yours”    “I don’t even know what that means” He admitted quietly as he stood in shame in front of her “are-are you calling me stupid ?” Maya let out a breath as she shook her head “Kind of, now tell me why you’re here ?” she asked as she got touched up “and make it quick preferably, this is my work remember”     “What’s this I heard about Tim insulting you ? Why didn’t you tell me when it happened ? I’m gonna assume that’s why you were crying the other day at the store ?” he asked, giving a small nod when he saw her face look down at the floor “and yes, Walter told me everything so don’t worry you don’t need to go into details I just wanna know if you’re okay”   “I am fine, we’re all good” she nodded “I’m going to see him tomorrow, he has a match and he invited me”

  “What ?” he whispered as he looked up at her “y-you’re gonna go see him ? After what he did ?”. Marcel knew how much wrestling meant to him, how much he prided himself in his work. He knew Tim inviting Maya over was a big step for him in how he felt about her.

  “Absolutely I am, I wanna see him wrestle and how he is in that environment. I’m gonna assume you’re gonna be there too ?” Maya asked as they got her ready 

  “Yeah, we have a match too and well chances are Tim’s gonna introduce you to me so what are we gonna do ?”

She stiffened at his question and fixed her curls as she looked in the mirror as she slid off her robe revealing a one piece bathing suit with a deep plunge as she turned to look at him “If you think I’m gonna tell Tim that you and I had a 3 year long relationship then you’re dead wrong. No way I would ever tell him something like that at his workplace, so let’s get this straight alright ? Tomorrow you keep your mouth shut and you tell your little friends or whomever to not say a thing or I’ll have my other model friends put a word out that you guys like screwing around when you’re on the clock”

     Marcel widened his eyes at her look and tone as he clenched his jaw “Maya I-”

“Maya nothing” she snapped back “You really think I didn’t know ? You really think Walter also wouldn’t tell me that you tried to get Alex and Fabio or whatever the fuck his name is to tell Tim for you ? To do your...our dirty work ? He texted me everything just before I got here, how you wanted to tell Tim abruptly and then I’d have to deal with the rest. Alex ? Yeah did you forget I also helped his wife out with her bridesmaid dresses and got to know the both of them really well ? He sent me an instagram DM telling me everything too, basically apologizing for your shitty actions. You’re a spineless little coward Marcel, 3 years and you haven’t changed one damn bit”

  “I-I...it w-wasn’t like that” he stuttered out nervously stepping forward

“Bull shit !” she exclaimed as she slapped him across the face and breathed heavily

Marcel stood back as he rubbed his cheek and gave a frown as his blue eyes stared at hers “I’m sorry, I just….I still love you” he whispered as he left hastily

  Maya sighed as she rubbed the feeling back in her hand and let the makeup artist fix her eyes “Mickey, did you tell him I was here ?”

 “You try saying no to that piece of German goodness” Mickey shook his head “His accent came out and I melted, then he did the whole pleading puppy dog thing with his blue eyes and well, I was sold. I’m sorry Maya, I didn’t realize how big of an issue it would be. You really gave it to him good though, he walked away as if you stomped on his heart”  

“Yeah well I didn’t wanna do that exactly” she admitted “He’s just being sneaky and I hate it, it reminds me of what happened when we were in a bad spot”   

“Well I’ll tell you this girl, Timothy Thatcher is all man and would never do that shit to you” he giggled Maya raised a brow as she let out a chuckled “and how do you know I’m seeing Tim, what’s going on here that I’m not aware of ?”   Mickey smirked as he dabbed some gloss on her lips “Tim from what I’ve seen and heard is quiet but apparently he told some of the guys that you’re gonna go see him and he’s a little...giddy. Now I’ve been working hair and makeup there a while and I’ve been there since he got there and nothing has made that man do a complete 180 like you have”   She blushed as she listened and looked around the room “So you think he...likes me likes me ? Like he wants me to be his...you know ?”   “Girlfriend ?” he chuckled “oh yeah, I heard from Candice, who heard from her husband Johnny who heard from his friend Oney that Tim told him tomorrow was pivotal”  “Oh” she whispered softly as she walked with him “I’m not gonna expect anything though, especially after this whole fiasco. I’m gonna have a nice day with him tomorrow and focus on that. Now let’s get this thing done so I can call him”   “You’re just as whipped as he is” Mickey chuckled as he helped set her up ______________________________________________________________ “What’s with that face ?” Tim asked Oney “You’re red and you’ve been on your phone for like 5 minutes, Oney ?” he sighed as he walked over and took his phone and let out a tight cough “this-this from today ?”   “Yeah” Oney nodded as he took his phone back and put it in his pocket 

“Um all I can and want to say is….you are one very very lucky man Tim, very lucky”

  “I like her for other things besides her looks” Tim rolled his eyes as he grabbed his gym bag “she’s a good person, she’s understanding, she’s really smart and funny. She’s a great cook, she’s super funny” he chuckled “and she-what ? why are you looking at me like that ?”

  Oney grinned as he walked with him to the showers “You really like this girl, it’s not just a little rendezvous like you had thought it’d be. I’ve known you for a while and never have I seen you act this way towards a girl”

  “Don’t” Tim warned as he took off his shirt “It’s just that I like her and I feel she feels the same about me and you know that’s it”

  “So it’s okay if she dates other guys while talking to you ?”

“I never said that” he said almost immediately as he turned around “Why ? Is she ? Have you heard anything ?”

 “Chill out, I was just joking but point proven” Oney chuckled “I say you ask her out, officially like to be your girlfriend”

  Tim nodded as grabbed his things “I was thinking about that after tomorrow”

“I think you should” Oney nods as he looked around “oh look it’s Marcel, shit look at his face” he grimaced

  “What the hell happened to you ?” Tim asked concerned “Your cheek is red as can be, are you okay ?”

“We need to talk” Marcel said sternly “Alone, and it has to be now”

Tim nodded as he changed and followed him outside

   Maya arrived at her apartment as she exited her elevator and saw Tim standing against her door “hey” she grinned “what are you doing here ?”

  “So when were you gonna tell me you were engaged to one of my closest friends ? Or did you plan on keeping that a secret forever ?” he asked wasting no time as he crossed his arms trying his best to stay calm

  Her stomach turned as she blinked trying her best to catch her breath “I-I…. Tim listen, I wanted to tell you I did, I promise I did but things happened and then the Walter thing and I just couldn’t find the appropriate chance to do so but I promise I was. I promise, you have to believe me” Maya pleaded as she reached for his hand flinching when he yanked it back

  “I don’t believe a word you said, I don’t. I don’t even trust anything you’ve told me in the past, probably more lies from you. I’m not gonna insult you or demean you like I did last time because quite frankly...you’re not worth it” he said coldly as he stepped back “Have a nice life and don’t contact me again”    

 “Tim, please don’t do this” she whispered tearfully as she grabbed his arm lightly

“Don’t touch me” he responded quietly as he carefully lifted her hand and placed it by her side “Goodbye Maya”

  He left her apartment quickly, and didn't look back knowing if he saw her face he wouldn’t be able to leave. Once in his car, he wiped his eyes quickly as he turned on the radio and sped off back to his place where he knew he could release his emotions freely and privately

  “What did you do !” she practically screamed into her phone “You fucking told him !”

“It needed to be said” Marcel said quietly “I’m sorry, I am but we both know you were gonna wait it out too long and it would only make things worse. I did this for the both of us”

  “I fucking hate you” she spat out “and I will never ever speak to you again in my life, ever. You’re dead to me” she hung up

  Marcel rubbed his face as he threw his phone across his room and laid down in bed as he looked up at the ceiling and drifted to sleep, trying his hardest to forget about the chaos he selfishly created

  All eyes were on Tim as he entered the Capitol wrestling center the next morning, he heard and saw it all as he walked into the locker room. The looks of pity people gave him, the mumbles and whispers they gave each other as rumours about what had happened at the gym went around. None of it mattered, at least not to him. The damage had been done and if there was one thing that was hurting him other than his heart it was his pride. He knew deep down it had been kept for him for a reason, but the lying and deceiving still hurt.

  “Hey” Marcel said quietly as he opened his locker “Listen I won’t bother you but I just want to say I’m sorry about what happened and it's my fault entirely. Maya wanted to tell you after today” he finally admits “After your match, she wanted you to have a good match and then break it down to you on he own time and I selfishly told you because I still love her and in my stupid head I thought that once you knew and let her know she would somehow want me but instead she told me I’m dead to her”

   Tim nodded as he laced up his boots and didn’t bother to look at him “yeah well, that makes two of us. I don’t want her around me, I don’t wanna hear from her again or anything like that. It’s done and over with and we should just not speak of her again. She’s something of the past and well I’m not gonna hold your past against you”

  Marcel furrowed his brow “Y-you’re not going to attempt to talk to her ? She’s pretty sad Tim….”

“Nope” he shook his head “She’s the one who started this so it ends, I don’t like things like that and I can’t just let it slide by. Her choice was made to lie, so now we leave it at that please. I don’t care nor do I wish to hear about her again”

  “I understand” Marcel nodded as he put on his tracksuit and headed down seeing everyone glare at him as he sped down the hallway to catering sitting down by himself in a table and beckoning over Fabian and Alex “Over here guys”

    “No thanks” Alex muttered as he looked at him and turned around “I prefer not to deal with you unless it’s necessary for tv”

“Agreed” Fabian nodded

“I know it was a mistake okay, you can stop with the harsh punishment.I should have never tried to involve you two either and I’m sorry I did. I regretted this whole thing as soon as I opened my mouth and saw his face. I was selfish and it was wrong, can we just stop now ? Please” he pleaded “I hurt Tim, I hurt Maya, Walter isn’t answering any of my messages or calls. I get it now, I do” Marcel rambled “Please just sit with me, you don’t have to talk to me but just sit with me so I can at least have some company while everyone stares at me”

    “No” they both answered in unison as they shook their heads and left him alone

Marcel looked down as he played with his plate of food feeling all eyes on him as he tried his hardest to ignore the stares and whispers and took out his phone seeing still no messages or calls from Walter and sent one last message   “Hasst du mich jetzt ?” (do you hate me now ?) “Nein, nur sehr enttäuscht” (no, just very disappointed)

He sighed and put his phone away as he shook his head, upset at himself for what he had done but knowing deep down he didn’t regret it. Maya was his one true love, the one person who understood him and helped him cope with the loss of his father and deal with the emotions rather than ignore them and hold them in.

  “Are you gonna go after her ?” Tim asked nonchalantly as he sat with him “because you can, I don’t care”

  “What ?” Marcel asked his head shot up quickly

“Don’t act stupid Marcel, you still love her and I know you did this in a way to get me to be mad at her so I”d leave her alone and therefor you could go after her”

   He knew him so well, so well it truly fucked with him “Yeah” Marcel nodded “I let her go once and it ruined me and now she’s here and right now she wants nothing to do with me but I’ll give her that space and then I’ll fight, I’ll fight like I should’ve fought for her 3 years ago and this time, she’ll end with me” he looked in his older friends eyes “We’ll get that happy ending we both wanted”

  Tim simply give a short nod as he sipped his water “Then go ahead”

Marcel looked around as he got up and left back to the locker room, not wanting to cause anymore awkwardness between them and sat by himself as he listened to music

  “Well if it isn’t the life ruiner” Oney rolled his eyes as he stood in front of him “Are you happy with your actions ? With ruining the one thing giving Tim genuine happiness ?”

  “Oney, please” he rubbed his face “This is something you don’t understand, don’t get involved”

“You ruined the one thing my friend wanted, I’m sure as hell gonna get involved you traitor” he shoved him 

  Marcel sighed “Don’t do this, I don’t have the energy to-” he stumbled back as he held his eye and groaned

“You deserve that and way fucking more” Oney spat out as he left ______________________________________________________________    Maya wiped her eyes for what seemed like the 500th time as she once again got sent to voicemail and let out a frustrated cry getting up when she assumed her takeout was delivered “I said to just leave it at the door” she whined putting on her hoodie “stop knocking !” she finally yelled as she opened the door ready to rage “I clearly said-” her eyes widened at the scene in front of her “what the hell happened to you ?” she asked   

“Oney punched me” Marcel said quietly as he removed the ice bag he had and revealed a bruised and bloodied eye

  “Oney ? That’s Tim’s friend” she said as he remembered his face from the gym

“Yes him, he punched me in the locker room for….for what happened” he said quietly “I needed to get out of there and the only place I could think of was here. I know you hate me and wish I was better off dead but I just had to come. I’ll leave though if you want me to”

  Maya looked up at him as she opened her door and stepped aside “come in”

He stepped inside and sat down on her couch “I’m sorry, I am so so sorry” he whispered “I acted so selfishly”

    “What’s done is done” she whispered “You unfortunately can’t take it back, and truth be told you were right” she admitted “I would’ve just kept waiting and waiting to tell him and let time pass by, in a way what you did benefited me more than anyone Marcel, you did the hardest part and all I had to do was explain myself”

  He shrugged as he bit the inside of his cheek and looked up

“Don’t cry” Maya chuckled weakly “I’ve been crying since last night, and I’m positive I can cry for the both of us and this whole fiasco

  “I’m not” he blinked away tears quickly

“You’re doing the thing, the cheek thing and looking up. You really think I wouldn’t forget how you try to hide emotions after all this time ? she scooted over as she gently patted his hand “You’re the ugliest crier too” she joked trying her best to lighten him up

Marcel gave a light laugh as he sniffled “You’re really good that you know ?”

  Maya gave him a small grin as she dabbed his cheek with a tissue and got the alert of her food delivery “stay for dinner ?”

“Absolutely” he answered as he nodded. Sometimes life truly does work in weird weird ways.

#timothy thatcher #timothy thatcher x oc #timothy thatcher fic #marcel barthel #imperium #wrestling fic #wrestling imagine

[wordsfromthesol]

Worst Fear

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary:  Tim’s been acting weird and you ask Damian if he knows anything. Warnings:  Language, that’s it? All fluff all the time. Word Count: 1.1k A/N: Not a request, something I wrote a bit ago and didn’t post. Haven’t had a chance to write anything new in a bit, but felt you all deserved a new story…so here you go!

You sat in the Manor, waiting for Tim to get off patrol. This had become your normal routine and at this point you spent more time at the Manor than your own house. You didn’t have any family in Gotham, and the apartment you lived in was often crowded with your roommate’s friends, so you preferred it this way. As you flipped through the channels on tv, Damian stalked into the living room and sat beside you on the couch.

“Y/L/N, I see you are invading my house again.”

“Oh so sorry for the intrusion, Dami. Claire has like ten drunk idiots over at my apartment right now. But I can go…” You made no efforts to move, as you knew Damian would never truly ask you to leave.

“You are already here. No sense in leaving now.”

“Hmm, so did you go out tonight?”

“Father made me stay home. According to him, I acquired too much homework and my ankle still pains me.”

“Both good reasons.”

“Tt.”

Your eyes traced circles around the room until you finally asked Damian the question that had been plaguing your mind. “Has Tim been acting strange towards you lately?”

“No. Drake has been the same.”

“Hm, has he mentioned me? That I’ve done something wrong?”

“Drake is in love with you, therefore he discusses you quite frequently. Some of his lovesick recollections are painstakingly dull.”

“I…what…wait. Love? Damian Wayne do not make up stories about your brother.”

“I would –” Just as Damian was about to scoff at such an idea, Tim walked into the living room.

“Hey Y/N/N. I’m just going to shower real quick and then we can go grab some food.”

“Sounds good, take your time!” You were trying to hurry Tim out of the room so you could further discuss Damian’s confession. Alas, you were too late, as Damian had already moved from the couch when you turned your attention back to him. Dammit. It didn’t take long for Tim to come back down and for the two of you to make your way to the diner. Fine. I’m just going to ask him. This is stupid, we’ve been friends for years.

“Tim, is everything okay?”

“Okay? Yeah. Of course. Why would you think it wouldn’t be okay?”

“I dunno, you’ve just been acting strange.”

“I have not.”

“Timothy Jackson Drake do not try to get out of this discussion. We both know you have been. See! You can’t even look at me!”

Tim lifted his head and stared directly into your eyes. “I’m looking at you now.”

You huffed at his stubbornness, you needed a different strategy. “Fine. How was work tonight then?”

“The usual.” Tim grabbed a fry and plucked it into his mouth. “Still on low level stuff since what happened last month. Bruce is paranoid.”

“Eh, I’d say he’s just being cautious. How are you doing since what happened?”

“Honestly, I’m good. Bruises and scrapes all healed.”

“Yeah, but physically you weren’t in that bad of shape. How are you doing mentally? What even did you see? You never told me.”

“Okay, I guess. It’s not like I never think about that stuff to begin with. Scarecrow’s mojo just enhanced it all.”

“You’re still missing an answer there.” You commented as you shoveled some fries into your mouth, waiting on his reply.

“I don’t know, the usual stuff. What does it even matter?!” Tim was clearly getting agitated from beratement of questions, but you didn’t know what else to do. He used to talk to you about this stuff, about everything, but ever since he got hit with the Scarecrow toxin last month he’s been avoiding actually talking to you. Talking to you about anything real.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay Timmy.” You mumbled into the half empty milkshake in front of you.

“I’m sorry, I just. I saw you die okay. Happy?”

“You saw me die? No wonder you’ve been so weird. Why were you afraid to tell me that? I’ve been sitting here going crazy worrying about you the past month!” You shot a frustrated glare in his direction, thinking the whole thing was ridiculous. Why was it such a big deal he saw you dying, you had nightmares about him dying – nightmares where you woke up screaming.

“I think about you being dead and I freeze. I don’t know what –” Tim cut himself off, but you were making too much progress for this to be the end of the conversation.

“Tim, I couldn’t handle it if you died either. I think it would break me. But you have to talk to me, I felt like I was losing you,” you quickly corrected yourself, “you were losing yourself.” You could see Tim flush as he processed your words.

“Not losing myself, just taking a mental toll. Seeing you dead in my arms, before I could even –“ Tim shook his mind free from the debilitating memory, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Hm.” Your mind went wild as the two of you finished the meal. It doesn’t matter? Well it does if you love me. Damian sure thinks you do. Unless he was just messing with me…

The two of you were nearly silent until you held the motorcycle helmet in your hand, Tim already on the bike.

“You coming, Y/N/N?” He questioned as he watched you stare down at the helmet, unmoving.

You looked into his eyes and took a step closer, “I love you Tim.”

Tim chuckled, it’s not like the two of you hadn’t said it before. But it was always under a platonic blanket. “Love you too, Y/N/N. Now get on before I leave you.”

You let the helmet drop to the ground and enveloped his hands with yours, “No. Tim. I love you.” You stared into his eyes, willing him to understand. For one of the world’s greatest detectives, he could be remarkably thick sometimes. Especially when it came to emotions, though you supposed that ran in the family.

Tim looked down at your clasped hands, and then back up into your eyes. “Oh. Like, actually?” You could see Tim’s breathing grow more and more erratic. You brought your hands up to his face.

“Like actually.” You tipped your head down and pressed your lips to his, hoping that he would return the kiss and you had not just ruined your friendship. Your shoulders relaxed as Tim leaned further into you. As the two of you broke apart Tim looked into your eyes.

“I realized my worst fear was you dying in my arms before I could tell you. Tell you that I have loved you since the day we met. You are my whole world.”

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake fanfic #tim drake imagine #Red Robin #red robin fanfic #red robin x reader #red robin imagine #red robin x you #tim drake x you #Damian Wayne #damian wayne fanfic #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #robin #robin fanfic #robin x reader #robin x you #robin imagine

[much-obliged-timothy]

Dad Tim & Uncle Rhys Part 12

Literally right after I finished writing this I saw a thing that said Ava is 18, but we’re going to pretend she’s in her younger teens because this is a fic and I’m in charge now?? Anyway, here’s a new entry into this! 

“Timothy? Are you listening to me?”

Tim glanced up with the kind of guilt that announced he absolutely had not been listening to Rhys. Rhys sighed, realizing he was going to have to repeat his whole story.

“You’re not eating, either,” Rhys pointed out, deciding it’d be a waste to bother repeating the story if Tim hadn’t managed to focus the first time.

He’d invited Tim to come spend his lunch in the office. He’d needed Tim to sign some paperwork, and sometimes it was nice to just sit and talk. Despite his stunted social skills after what he’d been through, Tim could be surprisingly hilarious when he told stories. 

Now, though, he just kept glancing at his son. Phoenix and Zer0 were trying to build up a structure out of playing cards together, Phoenix laughing every time it fell down onto Zer0’s lap.

“Something wrong with Phoenix?” Rhys asked.

“What? No, he’s fine,” Tim said. “Just…” He sighed. “I took him to the park last night to play. There were a few kids there already. They invited him to join a game, but he hid behind me and refused to move or speak. I told them he wasn’t feeling well enough to play right then.”

“Uh...he always gets like that around people,” Rhys said.

“I know. But he’s getting better,” Tim said, glancing at him again. “Only around adults, though. Last night made me realize Phoenix has never actually played with another kid in his life. Hell, he’s never even talked to another kid before. He grew up surrounded by adults fighting to survive. Then I get him out and he ends up surrounded by corporate adults.”

Rhys hadn’t really thought about that before. And Tim had already said he didn’t plan to have any other kids, so it’s not like Phoenix would even have a sibling to play with. 

“Why not set up a playdate with someone here?” Rhys offered. “A lot of the employees have kids.”

“I dunno. Phoenix is a bit...much,” Tim said, frowning. “He’s a good kid. But he has no idea how to interact with, well, normal kids. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t want to set up a playdate and then have other kids tell him he’s weird, or make fun of him.” 

Rhys thought for a moment. “Hey, what about the vault hunters? Don’t they have a kid with them? Um, I mean, I think she’s a teenager, but still younger than the people he hangs out with here. And if she’s with them, I doubt she’ll think a little boy who knows how to use a gun will be weird.”

Tim brightened with tentative hope. “Oh, yea! They did mention something about that. You think she’d be willing to, I dunno, just play with him for a little?”

“No clue,” Rhys admitted. “But it can’t hurt to explain the situation and ask. Your son is playing with an assassin, Tim. It really, really can’t hurt to ask.”

“I’ll get in touch with them tonight,” Tim said. “I just...want him to learn how to play with other kids. That’s all. Even if she’s older than him, it’s a start.”

With that settled, he seemed a lot more at ease. Rhys decided to retell his story, pleased when Tim actually paid attention this time. But they both found their eyes slipping to Phoenix, realizing just how at ease he was playing with an adult assassin.

Definitely couldn’t hurt to ask a kid to play with him.

***

There was a knock on the door. Rhys called for them to come in without looking up from his computer.

When the door opened, he glanced over, then had to do a double take. He stood up hastily.

“Zane,” he said.

“Still rockin’ the beautiful mustache!” Zane said cheerfully. A girl stood next to him, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. “Timothy got a hold of us last night. Where is the lad and his little lad?”

“I’m not a babysitter!” the girl said.

“Ah, hush, Ava,” Zane said. “Kid’s a fun one. Kinda cute, too, if you squint.”

“Don’t let Tim hear you say that,” Rhys said. Then, because he felt compelled to defend Phoenix, “He is a pretty cute kid. It’s just the messy hair that throws the look off. Tim should be here any minute. He had to go over some stuff with me.”

“Heard the boy’s gotten quite fond of you,” Zane said, throwing himself into the nearest chair. 

“I’m still not sure how,” Rhys said. “He is a good kid, though. I’m helping him learn how to read because he thinks if he can read, he can help Tim get work done faster.”

Zane opened his mouth to reply, but the door opened. Tim came in, Phoenix in his arms and a file of papers in his hand. He paused, eyes going wide at the sight of Zane and Ava.

“Oh,” he said at last.

“Dad,” Phoenix whispered urgently. “That’s the guy who talks funny.”

Tim laughed a little. “Yea, pal, it is. His name is Zane, remember?”

“I’m Zane, and this lass here is Ava,” Zane said, gesturing to her.

She was eyeing Tim and Phoenix, trying to look disinterested. But curiosity slipped onto her face, especially as she noticed Phoenix’s eye.

“Did he- inherit that from Jack?” she said in confusion.

Tim tightened his hold on Phoenix a little. “I was given DNA injections. Guess it permanently altered me more than I guessed. Uh, right. This is Phoenix, and I’m Timothy. Thanks for coming.”

Tim set Phoenix down, but Phoenix immediately gripped his shirt, tensing up and trying to hide behind Tim’s legs. Tim nudged him back out.

“Timothy! Wanna talk to ya a minute,” Zane said, getting up. “Nothin’ serious, I promise. Let the kids get to know each other while we chat.”

Phoenix tightened his hold on Tim. Tim had to pry his hand off, ruffling his hair.

“I’ll be right back. Rhys is here with you. You’ll be fine,” Tim assured. 

“Dad!” Phoenix said, but Zane pulled Tim out of the room.

“Uh...he’s not good with people,” Rhys said.

“They warned me,” Ava said. “Hey, kid, quit staring at the door. Zane isn’t going to hurt Timothy. He helped save you guys, remember?”

Phoenix didn’t speak, just backed cautiously towards Rhys, eyes on Ava now. Without everyone watching her now, she dropped the bored teenager act, sitting on the ground and looking more curious than anything.

“Zane said you had a gun when they found you,” she said. “You can shoot?”

Phoenix hugged his bear to his chest and gave a stiff nod. “Mom and dad taught me.”

To Rhys’ surprise, she grinned at him. “That’s awesome. Zane said you shot at them. You’re kinda badass, kid.”

Phoenix’s shoulders eased, just the slightest. “They had my dad. ‘Course I shot ‘em.”

“Hey, good for you,” she said. Her expression shifted to something sad, pained. “Gotta protect the people you love before you lose them.”

Phoenix inched forward, just a little. “Did someone you love die? That sucks.”

“Yea. Yea, she did,” Ava said, shaking herself a little. “So, I’m stuck here with you for a bit. What do you do for fun?”

“I…” He bit his lip, glancing at Rhys, who nodded encouragingly. “I, um, I like to look at the pictures in books.”

“Do you know how to read?” Ava asked.

“Kinda.” He was blushing a little, dropping his gaze. “I’m still learning. Boss guy and dad help me.”

Ava went over to the bookshelf in the room, looking over the titles there. “Whoa, hey! You have a book about Sirens?!”

“Oh, uh, it’s just a lot of guesswork. Interesting theories, but little facts,” Rhys said.

“So? That’s still awesome. C’mere, kid, let’s read this.” Ava pulled it from the shelf and sat down with it, gesturing Phoenix over. “Do you know anything about Sirens?”

Phoenix frowned, but his love of books had him cautiously moving closer to her to peek at the cover. “Nu-uh. I met one. She was really cool.”

“Amara, right?” Ava rolled her sleeve up, showing her Siren tattoo to Phoenix. His eyes widened and he drifted even closer to look it over. “I’m a Siren, too. My...My friend passed her powers to me when she...Well, she believed in me, and I cherish that. Looks cool, huh?”

He reached out, but caught himself in time and jerked his hand away. Ava just moved her arm closer to him, though.

“You can touch my arm,” she said, then narrowed her eyes. “But don’t be weird about it. And I’m ticklish.”

He pressed his fingers lightly to her arm, staring at the tattoos. He pulled his hand away after a moment and pointed at the book.

“Can you read it?” he asked.

“That’s the plan.” She pat the spot next to her. “Let’s learn about Sirens. Man, the stories I could tell you about Maya! Talk about a badass.”

She began to read the book to Phoenix. It was clear he didn’t understand a lot of the words in it, but every time he started to look bored or frustrated, Ava would pause in her reading to tell him a story about Maya and the use of her powers. Those sucked Phoenix right back in, and he eagerly pressed Ava for all the- often gruesome -details of Maya’s battle history. 

By the time Tim and Zane reentered the room, Phoenix was squealing with laughter as Ava told him an exaggerated story about Maya juggling bandits with her powers. Tim froze in the doorway, eyes wide as he watched his son.

A wide, relieved smile broke out on Tim’s face and he slumped against the doorframe in relief. Rhys couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Phoenix noticed him and waved. “Dad, dad! Ya gotta hear this! Ava’s friend was a funny badass!”

“Tell me about it when we get home tonight, alright? I don’t want to interrupt you guys,” Tim said, sitting at Rhys’ desk. 

“M’kay, I will!” Phoenix promised before turning his excited attention back to Ava. “What’d she do next? Did she crush ‘em?”

“Much more talkative than when we met him,” Zane said, sitting next to Tim.

“He’s come a really long way,” Tim said, that smile still on his face. “God, he’s come so far. I never imagined I could leave him alone in a room with a total stranger and come back to find him laughing. And he didn’t even run for me this time.”

“He was nervous at first, but she drew him out of his shell,” Rhys said. “Uh, they’ve mostly been talking about fights and Siren abilities, but he’s having a good time.”

“She was the perfect choice to get him used to younger people without making him self conscious,” Tim said. “Thank you, Rhys. He and I would be lost without you. Hopefully they can...ya know, do normal kid stuff at some point. I’m just glad to see him so happy.”

“Have to take him to Sanctuary to hang out with Ava sometime!” Zane said. “Lass could use the company of a kid. They’ve both been through too much to be normal kids, but they still deserve childhoods.”

Tim nodded. “Yea. Thanks for bringing Ava here, Zane. Hell, thanks for getting us out of that casino. I owe you guys my life and his life.” 

“Ah, pay me back with a pint later,” Zane said, clapping Tim on the back. 

Rhys looked up at the kids. Phoenix had leapt to his feet, firing finger guns at Ava. Ava ducked behind the bookcase and pretended to return fire on him with her own finger guns, the two engaging in their pretend war, their laughter filling the room.

“Huh, never seen her just...play,” Zane said as he watched. 

“Then it was good for both of them,” Tim said. “I’m glad.”

He was smiling so wide it looked like it hurt his face. Rhys put a hand on his shoulder and they watched the kids play, all of them relieved to see two kids who’d gone through so much in their short lives get to just have fun for once.

#borderlands #timothy lawrence #borderlands rhys #dad tim & uncle rhys #borderlands au #My writing

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

Halloween prompt: Alfred is getting increasingly annoyed at whoever is eating the halloween candy. No one will confess. (Bruce is sitting in a corner somewhere with a bag of... [insert Batfamily appropriate candy here])

Three Musketeers

Rating: G 1,844 words Gen AO3

Bristol was technically in Gotham City limits. Though the gilted mansions and private woods with pastures and stables seemed like a whole other world in comparison. The residents liked to think so too, especially because – despite Gotham’s robust public transportation system – it was almost impossible to reach the rich suburb from the city proper. It was because they lived in this separate world that Bristol’s wealthy residents often fought to receive special treatment or even secede from the city all together.

Except when it came to Halloween.

The residents of Bristol were more than happy to hold their trick-or-treat night during the same time as the rest of Gotham. Mostly, because it discouraged the city’s poorer residents from coming out to ask for literal handouts from them. The time it would take to sit in train stations and bus stops to get there ate up a large chunk of trick-or-treat’s two-hour window. And the walk from the last stop and between the houses took up the rest.

Despite all this, many made the trek out to Wayne Manor and its residents always made it well worth the work.

It was known that the Manor didn’t simply give out full-sized candy bars, no, they gave a whole bag of king’s sized bars. And from the entrance way to the ballroom off to the side were decked out and fitted to be a haunted house with games and entertainment and even more snacks. There was no reason to go anywhere else when you went to Wayne Manor.

Except, this year the seemingly endless supply of candy was mysteriously missing in the week leading up to the big night. Which was ironic considering the Manor was populated by detectives.

Alfred was suspicious. And annoyed. But mostly suspicious. He had raised the world’s greatest detective and then helped raise the current world’s greatest detective. In addition to the other seven vigilantes he’d actively cared for over the years. And countless others who hadn’t lived under his roof. Which meant that he was extremely hard to pull something over on. Extremely.

Yet, his stockpile of trick-or-treat candy was gone. Completely. And his list of suspects was long and skilled.

First, was Barbara because he loved the young woman dearly but she was a bit of a chocolate fiend. Also, if he could rule her out then he could enlist her assistance. It was easy enough to make her coffee just the way she liked and message her to come to the kitchen when she was working in the Cave one evening. She was happy enough to come up, thinking it was just for a chat but knowing something was up when Alfred passed her the mug.

They studied each other from across the long wooden table that took up the far side of the kitchen. Alfred sipped his tea from the good china that after the last family debacle was his alone to use. Barbara narrowed her eyes as her glasses slipped down her nose. They were playing a high stakes game of chicken and they both knew it.

Barbara broke first. “Is there something you wanted to talk about, Alfred?” she asked sweetly, setting her coffee down and pushing her glasses back up in the same movement.

“Now that you mention it, yes. I was wondering if you happened to know where my trick-or-treat supply is disappearing to?” Alfred’s lips turned up in kindness, but his eyes were hard and steady as he held her gaze.

An adult, a seasoned crimefighter, an honest to god superhero and yet Barbara wanted to wriggle in her chair, knot her fingers in the hem of her t-shirt, under that look. Pure willpower was the only thing that stopped her. Though it didn’t extend to her mouth. “No, I’ve been out of town most of the week.”

This was true, Alfred knew, but not necessarily an airtight alibi.

“Besides,” Barbara continued, “I have a Costco card. The Birds and I split it. If I wanted to eat a whole bag of candy, I’d just buy my own.”

Alfred nodded, lifting his tea to take another sip. He accepted that answer, she knew better than to lie to him. “In that case, might I enlist your skills to uncover the real culprit?”

This was what Alfred had truly wanted to ask, they both knew, and Barbara smiled in delight at the prospect. “I’d love to.”

The next suspect was Tim. He knew exactly how to cover his tracks and misdirect their attention. Tim was sly, smart, and still technically a teenaged boy so sugar was irresistible. Barbara set the trap, crashing the Batcomputer one afternoon when everyone else was out. This forced Tim up, out of the Cave and to Alfred lying in wait in the kitchen.

Tim had climbed up onto a kitchen chair to get at the stash of poptarts on the top shelf of the cabinet above the stove. Proving that he had means, motive, and a record.

“Master Timothy,” Alfred drawled as he stepped out of the shadows. Bruce had to learn the skill from somewhere.

Startling, Tim whirled around and nearly fell from the chair. Dropping the silver packet in the process. It landed on the tile with a crunch. “Look I need the brain power to get the computer back up,” he said hastily, glancing guiltily between Alfred and the fallen junk food.

“I am not here to reprimand you about the poptarts,” Alfred said and Tim immediately relaxed, shooting him a relieved little grin. “But I may have to reprimand you for sneaking something else,” Alfred continued, causing Tim’s face to fall.

“I swear, I only had the one Monster the other week. And I split it with Kon ‘cause we were trying to keep Bart from drinking it. Me and him on an energy drink bouncing round the Tower is way better than a speedster on an energy drink.” Tim’s eyes were wide and the blood that had drained from his face made the boy almost impossibly paler.

Alfred lifted an eyebrow at the confession. Not what he was looking for but good to know all the same. “And what of the candy for trick-or-treat?”

Tim’s brows drew together in confusion. “Uh, I don’t know? I suggested we get milkyways but if you got snickers again then I’m not going to complain.”

“So, you did not eat the supply?” Alfred confirmed, though the fact that Tim was already feeling guilty and hesitant to lie on top of the fact that he had no idea Alfred had purchased boxes of three musketeers cleared him of the crime.

“No?” Tim shook his head as he shrugged.

Satisfied, Alfred nodded. “Enjoy your poptarts, Master Timothy. I shall be moving them shortly.”

“It wasn’t Jason,” Barbara said over the phone. “I have a couple different angles of him being in Paraguay all last week.”

“I never suspected him to begin with,” Alfred admitted as he pushed the shopping cart, restocking for the big night tomorrow. “He never liked three musketeers. Dark chocolate kit-kats are a separate story.” He smiled at the memory of a young Jason carrying a huge box of the candy bars to drop in the cart during his first Halloween with them.

“Cass and Dick are out too,” she continued. “Cass laughed at me when I even suggested it and then confirmed Dick was telling the truth when I questioned him.”

Alfred hummed. Richard had been his next guess, though he was more likely to take them to hand out while on patrol or pass on to his friends’ children than to eat himself. “Master Damian is innocent as well. He scoffed at the implication he would, quote, ‘stoop so low as to steal candy from children.’ He also vouched for Master Duke and neither were anywhere near the spare pantry recently to begin with.”

“Security cameras confirm that.”

“That leaves Miss Stephanie,” Alfred frowned. Stephanie tended to decline any offers of assistance from the Manor’s residents that weren’t directly related to masked vigilantism. Though she recently had allowed Alfred to slip her gas money when she visited during daylight hours. The thought of her taking the Halloween candy just did not sit right with him. It was almost as impossible to imagine as Damian taking it. Cassandra was more likely to be playing a trick on them all, having hidden it for some soon to be revealed reason. “Are you positive Miss Cassandra is not the culprit?”

Barbara chuckled. “I mean, not really. But at the same time why would she? Though why would Steph either? I don’t think it was either of them but I can vouch for Steph. She hasn’t been anywhere near the Cave or the Manor since last month. What with school she’s been staying close.”

“Which leaves us back to the beginning,” Alfred sighed and got in line. “We could create a sting operation though I’d loathe to lose this supply as well. There’s nearly no candy left in the entire state.”

“That I believe. Alright, I’ve got the feed from the events kitchen running on one of my screens. I’ll keep an eye on it for the rest of the night, see if anyone stupid enough to try it again.”

“Thank you, Miss Barbara. I really appreciate your assistance in this matter,” Alfred told her before exchanging their goodbyes. He had plans for a little stakeout of his own.

Placing the boxes in the spare pantry, Alfred settled himself on a stool next to the industrial fridge in the dark. He typed out a careful message in the family’s groupchat informing them all that the missing candy had been replaced and politely asking that it not disappear again before the next night. They would all be getting ready to go out for the night so there is no doubt they would see it. And he would have plenty of time to wait for them to strike.

Hours later, the family was returning and Alfred was still lying in wait. A creak echoed in from the ballroom where decorations were mostly in place. The light padding of rubber soles on the marble tile came closer and closer. Alfred leant further back into the shadows as the door swung open. He held his breath, waiting as the guilty party walked into the kitchen proper, headed directly towards the pantry. Alfred slipped from his hiding spot, keeping low as he crept around the island to come up behind the culprit.

Alfred contained his gasp of shock and annoyance as he flipped on the light. Forcing the candy thief to whirl on him. “Master Bruce!” Alfred scolded. He hadn’t thought his first charge would do such a thing and hadn’t even considered him as a suspect.

Having the good sense to look ashamed and like a ten-year-old boy again, Bruce offered a wavering grin in apology. “You bought three musketeers,” he said as his only defense.

Alfred frowned as he crossed his arms. “And your penance will be handing them out tomorrow night.”

#dc comics #alfred pennyworth #barbara gordon #tim drake #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #damian wayne #dick grayson #duke thomas #batbros #the batgirls are better than you #my fic #writing #own writing #fanfic #fanfiction #detective comics #radioactivepigeons

[sweetdreamhellofanight]

Shower

Timothy Thatcher x Fem OC/Reader

My first WWE Fanfiction! I hope you all like it! I take requests so please feel free to drop by and drop me some ideas! 

Warnings: Oral sex, mentions of bodily injuries

He drags himself everywhere, now. For three days she had watched him move sluggishly around her, his eyes looking straight through her, never quite sure if he’s present or not. 

He falls asleep before her and wakes before her, they miss each other by mere moments, only seeing each other long enough for a smile and a glance. 

No more, she thinks, and decides enough is enough. 

It’s Thursday, his lightest and her busiest day, but she makes the choice and calls out. He will sleep late into the morning and she will finally have time to make things right for both of them. 

There is a brief second, when he wakes to find her still next to him, that he smiles and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. She thinks maybe things are better, that he’s okay and all he needed was some sleep. 

But he’s the same sluggish, tired self he’s been for a week now. 

They eat breakfast together and he lounges on the couch, TV on but not paying attention. And finally, she thinks of a last resort. 

“You need a shower,” she says to him, leaning against the wall of the living room. He only grunts, lifting an arm to smell himself. 

“I’ll take one in a bit,” he says. She sighs and stands in his direct eyeline, now. He stares and says nothing. 

Last week he would’ve at least given her a smile, but this week had drained him completely, it seemed. 

“I said,” she starts again, “you need a shower.” Her voice drops slightly and moves her hands behind her, sauntering towards him. She feels slightly ridiculous, but he raises his eyebrows and that’s more of a reaction than she’s gotten out of him all day so it must be working. 

“You trying to tell me something, doll?” he asks, his voice lighter. There’s a hint of smirk on his face, but she still wants more. 

She stretches out a hand to him, 

“Come with me,” she says, quietly. He watches her for a second, his face softening, and finally takes her hand. She pulls him up and struggles while he groans and chuckles at her. 

She’d set record time in clearing out the bathroom of all the junk they’d left in there, save only for the biggest and coziest towel she owned. The water was already running, knowing it would take it a moment to heat up properly. 

She turned to him and found his face back in a frown. 

“Take off your shirt,” she said. 

He arched an eyebrow. 

She was going to have to do more, it seemed. 

She played with the hem of his shirt, stepping closer to him, 

“If you take yours off, I’ll take mine off,” she said, softly. He only smirked and obliged, slowly pulling it off, wincing in pain. 

Bruises and scrapes from earlier in the week colored his torso, a nasty cut from a month ago was healing slowly. Cuts along his biceps made her pause, running a gentle hand over them. 

“Turn around,” she said. He did. 

His back was the same as the rest, bruised and cut up and still healing. No wonder he was in a bad mood, she thought. 

He turned back to face her, 

“Your turn, love,” he mumbled, looking her over. 

Her heart beat faster. It wasn’t like they hadn’t stripped down bare in front of each other before, but this moment felt heavier. Her own shirt, raggedy and light as a feather seemed to weigh more than before as she tried to pull it over her head. She tossed it aside and felt goosebumps form where the cool air hit her skin. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled, one hand tracing along her collarbone down the middle of her chest. She shivered under his touch. 

“These next,” she said, pulling at the band of his sweatpants. Just as strained as with his shirt, he pushed them down and stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. There was nothing else, and he stood in front of her completely bare. She was staring, of course she was staring. She was trying to play it cool, walking a fine line between cool and so fucking horny. 

A curled finger under her chin lifted her head back up to look at him, 

“You next,” he said. There was no smile on his face, but his eyes told a different story.

Her shorts and underwear came down in one quick motion leaving nothing between them now. 

The steam from the shower started to seep out into the rest of the bathroom, 

“Water’s ready,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him with her into the tub. 

They stood under the water for a few minutes, letting the hot water calm them down. His eyes had been closed the entire time, his hair matting down onto his forehead. She could see every part of him relax under the water pressure, and for a moment he seemed younger. 

She watched water droplets roll down his arms, following the paths of his veins, his beard, his chest hair all softening under it. Even the bruises on his body seemed to fade slightly. She put her hands on his chest and leaned up to kiss him. He parted his lips but stayed still. So she kept going. 

Down his jaw, his neck, his chest she pressed soft and lingering kisses until she felt his arms wrap around her waist. 

He rested his head on her shoulder and she ran her nails through his hair. 

“Wait,” she whispered in his ear, moving out of his grip to grab the bottle of soap. A fancy one where the name wasn’t even on the bottle itself that smelled of citrus. 

She lathered it in her hands while he watched. With gentle hands she began to rub it over his shoulders, then down his arms, carefully going over the cuts still healing. Occasionally she looked up at him, her hands making their way down his stomach. 

His eyes were closed, mouth slightly parted, a look of complete calm on his face that she hadn’t seen in weeks. 

It was working, she thought. 

“Turn around,” she instructed and he did so. She repeated the movements with the same pace, first his shoulders, then his arms, then working her way down his back. His breathing steadied, his shoulders had dropped, and the water was still hot. So far so good. 

And with that, she couldn’t help herself and gave him a little squeeze on his ass that made him huff in surprise. 

“I was wondering when you’d get to it,” he said. He turned back to her, smiling lightly. 

She acted surprised, 

“You thought I got you into the shower with me to do that?” she asked. 

“Well why else would you?” he asked, pulling her hand to his lips. 

“Maybe I thought you just smelled that bad,” she said, shrugging. 

“And now?” he asked, leaning in. 

She turned her face up away from him, 

“Better,” she said, nonchalantly. 

“I think that deserves something special,” he said, pressing himself up against her. One hand still in his, he guided it down to his cock, his other hand twisting and teasing her breasts. 

She inhaled sharply. Of course this was the whole point of their shower, but he always made her breath hitch, always made her heart beat a little faster, always made her blush. And the worst part? He enjoyed every bit of that. 

“What do you want, my love?” she whispered in his ear, 

“You,” he breathed into her. 

Her lips hovered over his and pulled back only when he tried to kiss her. He groaned and she swore she could cum right there from that sound alone. 

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered, pushing him against the shower wall. 

As carefully as she could, with the help of him holding her, she got to her knees, her hands still wrapped around him. Slowly and deliberately, she moved her hand up and down, the other hand gripping his thigh. 

She looked up just as he closed his eyes and sighed, resting his head back on the wall. He had one hand running over his face, the other hand gripped tight in her hair. 

“Like that?” she asked softly, pressing a kiss to the tip. He shuddered and she smiled. 

She had him right where she wanted him. Dragging her tongue along the length of it, she listened to the groan in his throat growing louder, the hand in her hair pulling her forward to take him. 

“What do you want, darling?” she asked, pressing her lips to him. 

“Please,” he begged. 

“Please what?” she asked. 

He whined and she had never felt so satisfied, so powerful around him before. 

“Please what?” she asked again with a tug to him, his mouth open but no sound escaping. 

“Take me,” he said, looking at her, finally. “All of me.” 

She smiled wide, 

“Anything she want, sweetheart,” she whispered. She started slow, lips covering just the tip, and heard the breath catch in his throat. 

Slowly, she moved her head down, her tongue circling him as she went. She took him all in until she could feel the tip pressing against the back of her throat, until her eyes watered and a gag came from her. He moaned as she pulled back, spit dripping down her chin. He looked up for a moment and his eyes went wide, 

“Fuck,” he whispered, the hand in her hair moving to cup her cheek. 

“Should I keep going?” she teased. He nodded frantically, hand going back into her hair. This time, she picked up the pace. 

She took as much of him as she could, her hand wrapped around the rest of him, moving her mouth and hand in the same rhythm, drawing it out as long as she could. 

It drove him wild, and the hand in her hair didn’t let up, either. 

She ran her tongue over him and felt him shake beneath her. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, a string of fuck’s following it growing quieter. His legs shook and he pulled her forward hard. 

It didn’t take long after that, for him to finish off in her mouth. Her own eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, hot and thick pouring into her mouth with only the faintest sound of her name coming from his lips. 

Slowly, she pulled herself back, wiping the remnants of him off her mouth watching him intently, letting the hot water wash it away. His head was propped up against the shower wall, breathing heavy, her name falling from his lips so quietly she could barely hear it. 

He looked down at her and smiled, one hand coming to cup her cheek. 

“Help me up?” she asked softly. He nodded and grabbed your arms. 

“Here we go,” he said, helping her up, keeping her steady. He hugged her tight against him, but stared at her, wiping her wet hair out of her face. “Gorgeous,” he whispered before kissing her. 

“How do you feel?” she asked. 

“Better,” he said, finally smiling at her. “A lot better, in fact.” 

They stood there until the water ran cold, and moved out, wrapping themselves in one big towel until they got to their bed. 

#Timothy Thatcher #Timothy Thatcher fanfiction #NXT fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #my writing #****

[justimagineitblog]

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 5

A/N:   Thank you so much for waiting patiently for this one you guys x 

If you didn’t catch my life update post, I’ve been busy working on starting my music page @sheispsyche​ (if you want to check it out xx) 

BUT DON’T WORRY!!  I AM STILL POSTING ON THIS PAGE ALL THE TIME!! And updating my fan fictions - business as usual !!! 

This Chapter sets up a whole series of events to follow so stay tuned loves!

Now.... on with the story.... 

(NOT MY GIF - ALL CREDITS TO THE WONDERFUL OWNER) 

2 weeks. I hadn’t seen a single Shelby or Gray in 2 weeks. I’ve been going about my days, mostly surviving by suppressing the memories of Michael’s return. Out of sight out of mind, right? Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

Well, that was until I found Arthur Shelby in such a drunken state that if I didn’t know him any better I would have assumed he was dead. Mumbling, grumbling and slumped over on the floor against someones back door.

The moment I saw him, I forgot about everything. About having to stay away from the Shelby’s. God know’s I have a soft spot for Arthur, and there was no way I could leave him on the street like that. Especially as a Shelby. There’s entirely too many people in this place who would do unspeakable things to a vulnerable, defenceless Shelby.

Most of the time while dragging him back to his apartment, his arm draped across my shoulders, he’s uttering nonsense and reeks of whiskey. A few times he mentions Michael and Gina. I hate hearing their names. At some stages me mentions things not being the same, grumbling about Gina. But I try my hardest to shrug it off, and not read into it. He is completely and utterly wasted.

When we reached his apartment, and I dig in his pockets for his keys, it occurs to me that he doesn’t have them on him.

Of course he doesn’t.

What I do next I do quickly. Through the backs of the streets, I drag him and he stumbles and trips trying to keep up with my pace. I need to get him to the Shelby house and leave. When we come up to the front door step, I’m relieved to see all the lights are off. They’re all asleep. No one is to be seen.

“Alright Arthur,” I breathed heavily as I sat him down on the front steps. I kneel in front of him, making sure he’s sitting up straight and not hunched over uncomfortably “You silly thing” I sigh as I look at him sadly. He always struggled with alcohol.

Unable to risk spending anymore time at their house, I stand up and brace myself to knock on the door and run. With three loud and quick knocks that will hopefully wake someone up, I quickly run away from the house, hiding behind the corner of another building.

My breath hitches as Polly pulls the door open, her robe draped around her. Irritated and sleepy, she begins fussing over Arthur and by then, Tommy has met her at the door. They look at one another in confusion about how on earth Arthur got there, especially in the state he’s in. While Polly stands him up, pulling him inside, Tommy looks out into the streets, his brows furrowed. Knowing Arthur is safe, I leave quickly and quietly darting through back streets until I’m far enough away from the Shelby house to walk back in the streets again, and head up to my apartment.

It takes me a while to wind down once I’m home, but after half an hour the exhaustion gets the better of me. I rub my neck gingerly where it aches from dragging Arthur. He’s not a big man, but I was practically hauling all his dead weight.

God he’s lucky I have a soft spot for him.

As I fall asleep I think of Arthur, if he’s okay. If Polly and Tommy got him inside alright. I’m sure they did. I’m sure he got a good scolding from them both which undoubtedly would have sobered him up pretty quickly.

And I try not to think about the things he said about Michael. And Gina. Something about Michael not being the same? Or maybe it was Gina not being the same? I don’t know. I can’t go over this. I’ve always believed there was some honesty in drunken words. But right now, I don’t want to believe a bar of that. I’d rather just tell myself he was drunk out of his mind and was mumbling anything and everything. For my own sanity. For my own peace of mind.

THE NEXT DAY

I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but I wake up in a jolt as knock at my door sends me upright in bed.

“What the fuck” I hiss as I pull my unruly hair out of my face. I glance at the clock.

9am?

Jesus. I slept in. As the knocking persists I grab my robe from my cupboard, wriggling it over my nightgown in a tired and flustered hurry.

“Who is it?” I call as I patter down the hall way barefoot as I fold my arms across my chest tightly.

I’ve god no goddamn bra on.

She the person doesn’t reply to my question but persists knocking, my irritation levels rise. I’m truly not an angry person. But I’m also truly not a morning person.

“Who is it?!” I shout again in frustration as I quickly rush into the bathroom, trying to comb my hair with my fingers before I answer the door.

No answer. Probably a kid playing knock and run. I swear to god if it’s that Timothy boy from the floor below…

Irritation and desperation for the incessant knocking to stop, I give up on fixing my appearance and fly to the door, ripping it open in lightening speed without even checking the peep hole first.

Prepared to launch into a lecture about how knock and run isn’t funny, I’m caught dead in my tracks by my visitors standing before me.

Polly, Arthur and Tommy.

They stare at me in shock, just as taken aback as I am.

Without even thinking, I begin to slam the door shut. Why. I don’t even know. Panic, I guess. Shock?

Just as the door is about the close it is stopped with a loud thud, as Tommy’s outstretched arm holds it open.

Silence follows as Tommy and I stare at one another through the opening in the door.

Fuck.

“Tommy move” I manage to say “I’m not doing this”

“Izzy just open the door for a second-“

I shake my head, my grip tightening around the door knob.

“Well I guess I’ll just have to stand here all day then, eh? Until one of us gives up”

“You’re both too stubborn for that” Polly say’s and Tommy raises his brows at me.

We both know I’m not going to be able to close the door. And we both know Tommy will stand there all day if he has to.

My thoughts are interrupted by the door suddenly the door flying open.

I stumble back, as Tommy stands broad shouldered in my door way, Polly and Arthur watching nervously from behind him.

I shake my head, a lump in my throat beginning to swell. I can’t do this. I don’t want to see them. I can’t. They’re out of my life now.

It’s supposed to be that way.

It’s easier that way.  

Quickly, the lump grows into an overwhelming need to cry, that I can’t control. Tommy watches me nervously, but quickly his face turns into a distraught panic as I clasp a hand over my mouth.

“I can’t do this” My voice is muffled behind my hand as tears well heavily in my eyes.

Tommy rushes forward immediately, reaching out to hold me. Initially I fight against it, trying to wriggle out of his grip. But the weakness from crying makes me give in, and he engulfs me in his arms. His smell, his feel, everything about him feels so foreign but familiar. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a big, brother like bear hug from Tommy. Realising this only makes me cry harder.

“I’m sorry,” he coos as I cry into his chest.

We stay like this for a few minutes, and I can hear his heart racing in his chest the entire time. Just like mine. Knowing how much this breaks his heart, I begin to stifle my cries, and pull myself together.

“Come here, eh” He says to me in a low voice as he holds my face firmly “Just breathe”

His voice sounds shaky, which is something I rarely hear from Thomas Shelby. It almost sounds like he has a lump in his own throat that he is swallowing down.

“Darling, sit down yeah? Arthur will put the kettle on” Polly says gently, nodding at Arthur who rushes to the kitchen beside us.

Tommy gives me one encouraging but worried smile before he lets me go, and I take a seat at my dining table. Tommy and Polly follow suit, and we sit in silence as I wipe the tears of my face. Once Arthur returns with tea, we all take a deep breath in unison to prepare ourselves for whatever is about to come next.

“Isabelle, we need you to talk to us…” Polly begins slowly, before asking the question I’ve been dreading facing for weeks “What did Michael say?”

I rub temples, tension rising as my mind races.

I don’t want to tell them, but I cannot lie. I cannot keep acting like I hate them, just to keep them arms length away and abide my Michael’s request. It’s only hurting them more.

I sigh. There’s no other way to put it but exactly how it happened.

“He asked me to stay out of his way. That he was happy, and if I really cared about him I would leave for him”

“That’s why you left the pub” Tommy says quietly, almost to himself, as he puts two and two together.

I nod, gravely.

Polly shakes her head as she looks away. I know she can’t believe the cold, cruel man her son has turned into. Either can I.

“Is that why he visited you that night?” Polly looks back at me.

“What?” I reply in shock, wondering how the hell she knows that he visited me.

She sighs, taking a sip of her tea “Gina was asking Michael. Pestering him about it. Constantly. I told her who you were. The day Michael came home, I couldn’t stand to see him pretend like he barely knew you. I wouldn’t have it. So since she knew who you were, since I told her, she’s been suspicious” She pauses, looking at Tommy and Arthur nervously before she continues “So I started reading her letters, she was telling her friends that she thinks that Michael went and visited you on his first night back, to sleep with you. That he got it out of his system and now you’re out of the picture”

“Jesus Polly” Arthur exclaims, almost laughing “You read her letters?”

“Of course I did, I read them all. I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her” She scoffs.

“I am out of the picture” I speak up, referring to Gina’s letters “He definitely didn’t sleep with me. He couldn’t have looked like he hated me more”

There’s silence in the room.

“Isabelle” Polly sits up straight in her chair, leaning forward “Michael is my son. But he has been a horrible, cruel, prick. I won’t, I cannot, defend his actions. You, even when Michael was gone you we’re part of the business. Part of the family. Regardless of him or Gina, you’re family. You are family”

Some how hearing Polly say that breaks and mends my heart in different ways all at once.

“And family look after family” Arthur says firmly “Like how you looked after me last night”

My mouth parts slightly. I thought I had gotten away with that.

“We knew that was you sweetheart, thats how we knew we hadn’t lost you for real” Polly smiles at me gently.

I look over at Tommy, he’s the final say. Always.

“We want you back in the family meetings Isabelle, back with us”

No. No. I understand that I can’t continue on avoiding them like the plague. But I can’t - I don’t want to join back into the family. I’ve spent weeks hating every second of time that I remember from seeing Michael with Gina that day. How am I supposed to cope seeing them together on a daily basis.

“I can’t-“ I shake my head quickly, refusing the proposition.

“Michael is not in charge of you Isabelle” Polly replies. But that’s not the problem.

“It’s not that, I-“ I pause, trying to gather my thoughts into words “I can’t see him… with her”

Silence, again.

“The last time I saw him… they way he looked at me” I swallow hard “Ive spent every waking moment trying to get it out of my head. And he wouldn’t want to see me. He doesn’t love me Polly, it’s done”

“Yes he does” Polly says plainly.

I look at her, brows furrowed.

Trust me. I want more than anything to live in denial. But it’s a fact. Michael does not love me. Sometimes, a lot of times in the past week, I’ve been forced to question if he ever did.

“You don’t see him with Gina. How he is. He’s not himself. He doesn’t look at her the way he looked at you. Tommy caught him the other day…” she pauses, looking over at Tommy to finish the story.

“We had some old boxes moved around, stuff from old houses. They were sitting at the house. Gina was out, and when I came into the room I saw Michael holding a picture from Christmas two years ago… Of you” Tommy pauses “He must have found it in one of the boxes… or he was looking for it. I watched him. His was just staring. Frozen. Then when Gina came home that night, he was different. Like deep down his mind was somewhere else. It was with you, Izzy. He just can’t see it”

I know the exact picture. Me sitting on his lap as we laugh. We were always laughing. Always touching in some way. Always. I used to stare at that picture myself, waiting for Michael to come home.

“But I can’t make him see it, Tommy. I can’t make him. Im not going to beg for a man who doesn’t even want me” Saying those words out loud stings.

“Then come back for us, god knows we need you” Polly smiles, reaching out for my hand. I take it, and she squeezes gently.

“What about Gina?” I say anxiously “She’ll have my head if I set foot near Michael”

“She won’t dare say anything around me if she’s as smart as she thinks she is” Polly hisses. I don’t know this girl. Gina. Whatever I don’t like about her mostly has to do with the fact that I wish I was her. But everyone else seems to have a deep hatred for her. I can only imagine what she’s like.

When I have no argument against them anymore, I shrug, sitting back in my seat completely defeated.

Tommy smiles, giving me a wink “Welcome back to the family eh?”

TAGLIST

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[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 30: Tim

Tim still feels guilty a week later.

Not, it has to be said, that anyone is making him feel guilty. Quite the opposite. The group hug in the Primes’ unofficial bedroom seems to have cleared the air. They don’t exactly say anything about forgiveness or accepting one another’s apologies, but Sasha comes with them when they leave work and ends up spending the night; they build a massive fort in the living room using every pillow and blanket in the house, have popcorn and hot chocolate for dinner, and swap stories about their childhoods until way too late in the evening considering they have work the next day. When Martin hesitantly admits the next evening that he’s been having trouble sleeping, Jon reminds him of his promise that Martin doesn’t have to be alone anymore, and the three of them curl up together in Tim’s bed for the first time since Jon’s stabbing, this time with Martin in the middle. They agree after that to assume they’ll keep doing that unless one of them has a genuine need to sleep alone.

But Tim still finds himself occasionally waking up in the middle of the night and studying the peaceful look on Martin’s face as he sleeps, or watching Jon mumble and shift restlessly as he watches whatever horror the Eye is forcing someone to relive, and feeling like the world’s biggest heel. While he knows he doesn’t have anything to do with Jon’s nightmares, he still feels like they’re not so bad when Jon isn’t isolating himself, and God knows Martin’s sleep is probably better when he doesn’t feel like he’s being shut out. And while, again, Jon was the one to insist at first that it would be better for him to sleep alone while he had the stitches in and Martin had quietly gone to his own room as well, Tim still feels like he pushed them away, even if it was unconsciously. He hurt both of them and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

He knows he should say something. That’s the whole point of all this; they’re trying to communicate. If something is bothering him, he ought to tell the others. But what he doesn’t want is for Martin—or Jon, for that matter—to spout platitudes and reassurances that he won’t believe. Even though he can tell from their actions that they’re genuine.

At the root of it, that’s the issue. Jon and Martin have forgiven Tim for the way he treated them when he was angry. Tim can’t forgive himself.

Tim taps his pen against his jaw absently as he studies the file in front of him. He’s quizzed Martin Prime on the “feeling” he once mentioned getting about which statements were real or not, and in the last few days he’s been trying his hand at it. It’s slow going, and he knows it’s probably at least partly because he’s resisted the Eye harder than the others, but ever since Sasha’s intervention, he’s decided, screw it. He’s trapped here, for better or for worse, and if it means he maybe gets freaky psychic powers, maybe he can at least use them to help keep his family safe.

This one feels real. It feels bad. Tim hates it on sight, which probably means it’s a Stranger statement; he tends to react badly to those for obvious reasons. And this one deals with taxidermy, which definitely doesn’t help matters. Still, he grits his teeth and digs into it, and what he finds…isn’t comforting. The name Daniel Rawlings is one he remembers—that was one of the people who went missing near Old Fishmarket Close, the very first statement they ever researched that had to go on the tape recorders. And the description of the thing in the basement sounds a hell of a lot like the thing Nathan Watts saw—holding bodies, luring people down with creepy, repetitive phrases. The guy’s lucky to be alive. The fact that the Trophy Room apparently still exists, and is still under Daniel Rawlings’ ownership, is…not great. From a research standpoint, it’s a boon they don’t usually get, but from a practical, this-is-probably-something-set-to-destroy-the-world standpoint, it’s fucking terrifying.

Tim stares at the statement for a long moment. Whether they need to follow up on it or not is almost academic at this point; they will follow up on it, because it’s what they do. They’ll do what they can from the office, but Tim doesn’t need any kind of special powers to know that eventually, someone will go out there to investigate in person. And it’s dangerous. Someone could get seriously hurt.

Which means there’s only one choice, really.

Sasha comes back from her lunch break and smiles at Tim; he smiles reflexively back and goes through the usual routine of how was your lunch, what’s the weather like, anything interesting come up while I was out. He assures Sasha that everything is fine on their end, shuffles the folder under some of the others on his desk under the guise of neatening things up, grabs his jacket, feels to make sure his phone is in the inner pocket, and heads out of the Archives.

It’s the warmest it’s been all month, but there’s just enough of a breeze to keep his jacket on as he walks to the Tube station. Sloane Square is the nearest stop to the Institute, but it’s not on the right line, so he’ll have to change trains at Monumental, and God, this is stupid. Jon hasn’t told him to look into this statement like this, hasn’t sent him to investigate. He doesn’t have to do this, job-wise.

It also occurs to him, belatedly, that he hasn’t told anyone he’s doing this. Well, there’s a reason for that, really; Jon would either try to forbid him from heading out there or insist he bring someone along, neither of which are happening. Tim’s not exposing anyone else on the team to this, even if he’s right there with them. Better that it just be him risking…whatever he’s risking by heading up to Woodside Park. But he should at least warn someone he might be a bit late getting back from lunch. He doesn’t have to say where he’s going exactly, he rationalizes, just say he’s investigating a statement. There are four or five on his desk, and even if Sasha goes snooping through them to see what he’s working on, there’s no way they can be sure this is the one he’s poking into. They’ll probably think it’s any statement but this one. They all know how Tim feels about the Stranger.

When he sits down on the second train just before it pulls out of the station, he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. What he pulls out…is not his phone. It’s a small handheld tape recorder, the sort of thing you’d find in an amateur spy kit, looking like it’s brand new out of the package. Tim stares at it in stupefaction for a moment, then quickly pats himself down. His phone is not in his pocket, and he suddenly has a clear and vivid picture in his mind of it sitting on the corner of his desk, charging, because he forgot to plug it in last night.

Great.

For a moment, he’s tempted to go back. Turn around, head back to the Institute, grab his phone, come back another time. Maybe give Jon a heads-up that he’ll be a bit late getting back, if Jon’s back from lunch by the time he gets there. He doesn’t have to say where he’s going, just that he’s following up on a statement or something like that. No need to specify, right?

He doesn’t, though. For one thing, he’s pretty sure if he goes back, he’ll lose his nerve and either not go back or bring someone back with him…or worse, let one of the others go instead. He’ll never be able to live with himself if he puts anyone else in danger like that. And for another, he knows Jon won’t accept a half-explanation. Tim will either have to tell him nothing or everything. And if Tim tells Jon everything, Jon will forbid Tim to come out here.

“I can hear him now,” he mutters, still staring at the recorder in his hand. “‘There’s no need for you to put yourself in that kind of danger, Tim, and certainly no need to expose yourself to that. We can do this over the phone if we have to.’”

Except they can’t; the Stranger is at its best when it’s hidden, so if they’re not looking it in the—well, looking it in the eye, Tim guesses—it’s going to lie to them. It might lie to his face, too, but at least he’ll have the evidence of his senses. And at least he can put it on alert, maybe. The Eye sees you. The Institute is aware of you. Timothy Stoker knows where to find you.

Yeah, right. This is the stupidest thing Tim’s done since he tried to jump off the roof using his grandmother’s umbrella with the bird handle as a parachute.

He turns the recorder over a couple of times in his hands. The Primes mentioned once that their Tim hated these things—the way they kept turning up without warning, the way they would turn themselves on at random times, what they might mean. Tim’s not exactly thrilled about this one just turning up in his pocket either, if it comes down to it, especially in place of his phone. A tape recorder won’t enable him to get in touch with anyone if things go tits-up, or if he’s running late or something. On the other hand…well, it’s better than nothing. And he has to admit it’s a little bit of a comfort to know he’s not technically alone. The Primes both swear they aren’t a tool of the Eye, and he has to admit their logic is sound as to why not, but still, someone or something is listening to him, which means he won’t disappear into nothing. If, God forbid, something goes wrong, at least there will be a record. Some kind of witness.

Tim pats down his pockets and locates a pen, then pops open the recorder. Nestled inside is a microcassette tape, ready and waiting. He considers for a moment, then writes RETURN TO ARCHIVES, THE MAGNUS INSTITUTE, LONDON on the label as neatly as he can. There isn’t anywhere on the recorder’s surface to write, and he doesn’t have any tape or anything, but he hopes that will be sufficient, should someone find it and need to send it back. He considers writing his name and the address of the Institute on his arm or something, the way his parents used to do with him and Danny whenever they went out someplace they might get separated, but decides against it. Based on where he’s going and what he knows about what’s there, the balance of probability is that if he dies, they won’t leave any skin to identify him. He’ll have to settle for tucking his wallet in the same pocket as the recorder and hoping they dispose of his jacket without going through it.

Tim is beginning to wish he put a little more forethought into this. Or, you know, any forethought at all.

Woodside Park is almost at the end of the Northern line, which gives Tim way too much time to think about turning back and consider that there’s no turning back now. He’s the only one who gets off at that stop, which is certainly not eerie at all. Nope, nothing to be concerned about here, perfectly normal. (Logically, it probably is perfectly normal, but Tim is so addled right now that everything looks spooky.) He fishes out the recorder and turns it on.

“Right,” he says. “Uh, this is Timothy Stoker, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, and…if you’re listening to this and don’t know what that is, well, uh, stop listening and get this back to Jonathan Sims, the Head Archivist. You, uh, you should be able to look it up. Stop listening now.” He pauses a second or two, then continues, “Okay, should be Archival staff listening now…Jon, Martin, if it’s you, I’m sorry, but I had to do this. I’m, uh, I’m at Woodside Park right now, I just got off the Tube, and…well, I’m about to go into the Trophy Room. This statement is just…it’s too freaky to leave alone. I can’t risk any of you if it’s something serious and…I’m sorry. Anyway, I’m…going to leave this thing going in my pocket, kind of try to get a recording, so that if I can’t explain for whatever reason, you’ll know what happens. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Hopefully nothing too bad, but…well, we’ll see.”

He pauses for a moment, then tucks the recorder back in his pocket and says under his breath, “Fuck.” Then he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and heads down the block.

The Trophy Room isn’t hard to find. It’s exactly as the taxman described it in his statement—an aged, grimy building with faded gold lettering and a dirt-streaked olive green awning. There’s even a stuffed big cat in the window, and the only reason Tim knows it’s a tiger and not a lion, apart from the statement, is because big cats were something of an obsession of his when he was nine or ten, back when he’d considered a career as a wild animal tamer for a circus, and he made a study of the physiology of them. This is unmistakably a tiger, long-faded stripes notwithstanding. That seems to him a somewhat irresponsible way to care for something you ought to put pride in, but what does Tim know?

The bell over the door clangs raucously when Tim pushes the door open, and he is suddenly confronted by hundreds of staring, glassy eyes. Tim quite likes animals and he’s seen many of the ones in the shop live and in person, including an up-close-and-personal encounter with a moose (this one must be a juvenile, he thinks, a full-grown bull wouldn’t fit in the space it’s crammed into), but the concentration of them looking at him, all at once, is disconcerting, to say the least. But it’s not nearly so disorientating as the smell. Danny once declared he was going to buy their mother something “unique” and purchased a titan arum for her before learning that it was more commonly called a “corpse flower” for a very good reason. This place smells like they’ve got an entire greenhouse of them under the floor.

Which is better than the alternative, really.

A man comes out of the back. True to the description in the statement, he’s a “fresh-faced twenty-something”; if he’s even Jon’s age, Tim will eat the entire taxidermied moose. He raises his eyebrows in Tim’s direction. “Can I help you?”

A nagging, persistent voice in the back of Tim’s head that sounds an awful lot like Martin suggests that declaring himself to be from the Magnus Institute would be the worst decision he’s made all day, which is saying a lot. Time to fake it. Luckily, Tim’s good at that. He switches on his most charming smile. “Hi! I sure hope so. I’m looking for a Christmas present for my sister.”

Is it Tim’s imagination, or does the man he presumes to be Daniel Rawlings relax, just a fraction? “Bit early for that, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t know if you’d have something on hand or if I’d have to wait for you to get something in or bring something in,” Tim says, waving at the assorted animals. “I mean, she’s kinda picky sometimes. I don’t know how this works.”

“Ah. Well, let’s see what I can do to help you.” The man extends a hand and grins. “I’m Daniel Rawlings. And you are…?”

“Nick DiAngelo.” Tim Anglicizes his grandfather’s name; it feels safer than giving his real one. He accepts Rawlings’ hand; it’s cool, hard, and very dry.

“Mm.” Tim can’t tell if Rawlings believes him or not, but he shakes his hand and lowers it. “Well, all of these pieces are for sale, unless you brought something in. You’re not a…hunter yourself, are you?”

Tim doesn’t like the emphasis Rawlings puts on hunter, but he keeps up his smile. “Nah, not my thing. Never been one for guns or the like. I like my nature alive.”

“But your sister doesn’t?”

“She’s an animal lover, but she can’t have pets at this new place she’s moving to. So, stuffed it is.” Tim waves a hand at the room. “Don’t think there’s room in her flat for a whole moose, of course, but…”

“Of course, of course. Well, feel free to look around and see if anything catches your…eye.”

Tim manages not to react to that word. Instead, he, smiles again and ambles towards a shelf full of squirrels. The animals’ eyes seem to follow him as he walks, and he knows Rawlings’ eyes follow him, too.

“So how long have you been doing this, anyway?” he blurts after a moment, turning back to face Rawlings. “It must have taken ages to do all this.”

“Oh, I inherited it,” Rawlings tells him. “An old friend of my father’s left it to me. Apparently he didn’t have any other family.”

Mentally, Tim ticks off the first item on the list—the stories tally. Which, well, of course they would. “Do you like all this?”

Rawlings shrugs. Tim tries again. “You’re lucky, you know. Falling into a business like this. I’ve been having to work my way up from the bottom. Is it hard?”

“Not so hard as it could be, I suppose.” Rawlings looks around him. “At least it’s a good, steady business. No heavy lifting.” He smiles. “I’ve got people for that.”

“Hey, are you hiring?”

“Hmm.” Rawlings tips his head to one side, studying Tim. A prickle of unease crawls up Tim’s spine. The man won’t make eye contact, but something about that regard unsettles him. “I think we might be able to find a…fitting position for you. If you’re interested.”

Tim pretends to consider it. “Tell you what. I’ll let you know after the new year? Got a big project I’m in the middle of now.”

“Of course. There’s plenty of time.” Rawlings smiles. “It’s not like the animals are going anywhere.”

Tim laughs, despite the creeping feeling of dread. “That would be…strange.”

The word slips out before Tim can stop it, but Rawlings laughs, too. He seems genuinely delighted, and even comes closer. “Here, let me help you find something that would suit your sister.”

He lights a cigarette. Tim raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you worried about these old things going up if you drop that?”

“I’d be desolate if they did.” There’s no doubt about it; Rawlings is dropping those words deliberately, but this time he sounds amused more than taunting. He either realizes Tim knows something, or he’s just showing off his own knowledge. Neither of which is good. “But no, they’re remarkably well-preserved.”

“That’s what they said about our uncle,” Tim quips. He does get another laugh out of Rawlings for that one. “How old are they, anyway? I know you said your dad’s friend did them…”

“He owned the shop. Many hands have worked these creatures.” Rawlings strokes the moose’s nose almost reverently. “Tell me, Mr. DiAngelo, what is your field?”

“History,” Tim lies easily. “Eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, with a focus on arts and industry.”

“Ah.” Rawlings still doesn’t meet his eyes, but there’s a glitter in them. “Then I think I have something worth showing you.” He gestures towards the back.

Tim’s not stupid, despite all current evidence to the contrary. He knows from the statement that the workroom is back there, behind the office. There’s a distinct possibility that he’s letting himself be lured into a deadly trap. But in keeping with his persona, and also in the interest of getting the information he needs, he says brightly, “Great! Lead on, then.”

If he survives this, Jon’s going to kill him.

The office is small, largely dominated by an old oak desk. Seated behind it is a petite woman with close-cropped brown hair, wearing a grey t-shirt and a light jacket, bent over what look like account books. Tim has a nasty feeling he knows who this woman is.

“Sarah,” Rawlings says, confirming Tim’s suspicions-slash-fears, “this is Nick DiAngelo. I brought him back to show him the skins…Mr. DiAngelo, this is Sarah Baldwin, one of my fellow employees.”

“Pleasure,” Tim says cheerfully. This is officially too much, but he’s got to see it through now. The smell of Death By Flowers is stronger here, and he remembers suddenly Melanie King mentioning in her statement that the Sarah Baldwin who did sound work for her Ghost Hunt UK episode had a sharp, faintly floral perfume, or something like that. He wonders if she’s been living here—so to speak—all this time, if the smell of the building has soaked into her skin or if it’s something that comes from her and Rawlings and whatever else might be part of all this.

“Hi,” Sarah says succinctly. Tim also remembers Melanie saying she was a woman of few words.

“Come look at these. She won’t mind,” Rawlings assures Tim. Sure enough, Sarah seems scarcely aware of their presence as Rawlings begins showing Tim the skins hanging on the wall. And if they’re genuine, if he’s telling the truth about their origins—and Tim has no reason to doubt him—they are impressive.

One skin seems to be missing, though. The man from Internal Revenue described a gorilla skin, alleged to be from the fifth century B.C., the oldest bit of taxidermy in the world. There’s nothing like that in this room. Tim’s not sure why that bothers him so much, but reluctantly, he has to admit that he probably shouldn’t ignore it.

“…And this,” Rawlings concludes, indicating a stuffed figure on the desk—a white hare in a waistcoat, “was part of the Great Exhibition of 1851. It helped drive Victorian England mad for the craft.”

Tim doesn’t like the emphasis he puts on mad, but since this is supposed to be his specialty, he says, “I am impressed. There was a lot of fantastic craftwork at the Great Exhibition. I saw a stereoscope card once while I was doing my graduate research, but I never dreamed I would ever see something that was actually displayed there.”

“Would you like to touch it?” Rawlings asks. “You can, you know. It’s quite safe.”

Tim tries very much to look like he’s hesitating out of reverence for the age of the piece and not because he wonders if he’s going to end up poisoned, sucked into an alternate dimension, or triggering a trapdoor to the mouth of a hungry monster, but he can’t actually think of a good reason why a historian would refuse to touch, well, actual history. So he reaches out, slowly, and runs his hand over the hare’s fur. It’s stiff and wiry, the effects of almost two centuries of existence, but still feels mostly soft under his palm. The body is solid and firm. If he didn’t know better, he would swear it has a heartbeat.

“That’s brilliant,” he breathes. Hopefully he still sounds awed and not terrified. He takes a risk. “Is this the oldest piece you have?”

“Wolf,” Sarah grunts, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the wolf pelt hanging on the wall.

“It dates back to the Middle Ages,” Rawlings explains. “We had one even older, but, well, it was stolen some years ago.”

“Stolen?” Tim is genuinely taken aback by this. “Did they ever find it?”

“No, sadly. It was never sold, at least not publicly, so who knows?” Rawlings sighs. “It was a gorilla skin, from Carthage. Brought over by Hammo in the fifth century B.C.”

“It must have been worth a pretty penny,” Tim whistles.

“Its value is immeasurable,” Rawlings says earnestly. “It means the world.”

Something about that phrase makes Tim’s blood run cold. Not it means the world to me, or to my dad’s friend, even though he guesses that’s a fiction. Just it means the world. Whatever that means, it can’t be good for humanity.

“Well,” he says, as sympathetically as he can. “I hope it comes back to you in the fullness of time.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will. If it hasn’t been destroyed…I’m sure there’s someone out there who knows where to look.”

Tim would like to go now, he decides. He’s pretty sure he has all the information he needs, and surely the Primes can fill in anything he’s missing. “I’m glad you showed me these. They’re really impressive. But I’m sure they’re well out of my price range.”

“Maybe,” Rawlings says. “But that could change. We’ll discuss that later, if you’re still interested in that job.”

Tim definitely does not like the sound of that. “I’ll be in touch about that. And I’ll be back for sure about something for my sister, once I’ve had time to…reassess things a little. You know, get an idea about her flat layout and what sort of thing would work best for her.”

Rawlings smiles. It sends chills down Tim’s spine. “Don’t be a stranger.”

He holds out his hand. As they shake again, for the first time, Rawlings looks Tim dead in the eye, and Tim realizes two things. First of all, the taxman wasn’t kidding; Rawlings’ eyes are as dead and lifeless as the animals’, and like theirs are made of glass, fixed in place where his real eyes should be. They should stare without seeing, but unlike Martin Prime’s eyes, which are still warm and expressive but stare right past or through you, these bore into Tim’s and he is one hundred percent aware that Rawlings can see him perfectly clearly.

Second…his eyes are glowing faintly, a deep and vibrant indigo, like they’re lit from within. Which is frankly beyond disturbing.

“I won’t,” Tim assures him, and means it.

He comes out of the office ahead of Rawlings and is about halfway to the door when it happens. The bell jangles again, and two men come in—two men Tim would prefer never to see again, dressed like deliverymen and crossing into the shop.

It’s Breekon and Hope.

One of them notices Tim and stiffens. “Hey, you.”

“What are you doing here?” asks the other, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Come to spy on us?”

“See what we’re doing?”

“What?” Rawlings asks sharply.

Tim bolts. He has surprise on his side and manages to get out the door before anyone can grab him, but unlike the man who gave the statement, he knows they’re not just going to let him get away. He considered a lot of possible fates for himself should he visit the Trophy Room, but somehow, Breekon and Hope turning up while he was there, and recognizing him, never occurred to him. Stupid. Stupid.

It’s a good stretch to the Tube station, and Tim expects every step to feel them on his heels, but either they can’t move as quickly as him or they’re not chasing him for their own reasons. Still, he hears a rumble behind him and doesn’t stop to check if it’s them or not. Instead, he sprints for the entrance to the station and leaps down the steps three at a time. He lands wrong at the bottom and his ankle buckles, but he shakes off the pain and manages to just make it to the train before it pulls out, which at least has the advantage of giving anyone who saw him come flying in a possible explanation for his hurry beyond “being chased by something out of a horror film”.

He collapses into his seat and catches his breath as the train pulls away, heading back towards central London. Once he’s breathing normally, he takes stock. His ankle throbs, but the pain is relatively mild. He’ll live and, most crucially, he’s not in the back of an ersatz delivery van…or worse. Tim honestly can’t say what he would have done if they’d caught him, but he’s glad he doesn’t have to think about it.

After a moment, he reaches into his pocket and checks for the recorder. It’s stopped, which might mean it cut itself off when the danger had passed, or might mean he hit the end of the spool, or might mean he screwed up and turned it off and it didn’t catch what happened in there at all. He’s going to have to hope he got everything, though, because no way is he risking playing this on the train. There are other people here, after all, although not many. He does rewind it, though, and he’s comforted to hear the length of its backwards spool. There’s something on it at least.

He makes the connection with seconds to spare; the Central line is a bit more crowded, so he ends up standing near the door, which does at least mean he’s the first one off at Sloane Square. He tries to hurry without running—the last thing he wants is to draw attention—but even now, he finds himself glancing over his shoulder periodically to see if anyone is following him. Luckily, it appears he’s managed to give them the slip. For now, anyway.

As he gets closer to the Institute, he slows up and tries to straighten up his appearance. The last thing he wants is to make it look like he had to run for his life, or might still be running. He’s got the tape if Jon doesn’t believe what he says, but maybe he’ll get lucky and he can avoid having to play it, so Jon—and Martin, for that matter—don’t have to know how close a shave he just had.

Yeah, right. And maybe he’ll finally get that phone call about his audition for Jersey Boys.

He’s still limping as he reaches the Institute and lets himself in the door to the Archives. For just a minute, he pauses when he comes in, wondering why they swapped out the light bulbs for novelty green ones…but no, he blinks hard and the lighting goes back to normal. Just the regular old Archives, rows of shelves littered with files, pod of desks in the work area, three people grouped around it. Tim’s not sure what’s going on, but from the looks of it, Sasha and Jon are sitting down and Martin is fussing.

Martin looks up as Tim comes closer, and his face goes slack with relief. “Tim!”

Sasha’s head whips around. “Are you all right?” she asks.

Tim tries for a grin. “I’m not dead.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly comforting. You get why that’s not comforting, right?” Martin tugs at his hair in evident frustration. “Wh—” He stops and presses his lips together tightly for a second.

“You’re late.” Jon’s voice is soft but accusing. He gets to his feet and wobbles for a second before steadying himself against the back of the chair.

Suddenly worried, Tim takes a step towards him. His ankle chooses that moment to remind him that he’s already fucked it up and buckles under him, nearly sending him to the floor. He doesn’t fall far before Martin is there, catching him and half-dragging, half-carrying him over to his chair. “You’re hurt.”

“Master of the obvious,” Tim tries to joke, and then he sees the look on Martin’s face and realizes what’s going on. They’ve all realized that Martin has acquired the ability to compel people to tell him things, especially about how they got hurt or why they’re scared; he’s trying to learn how to control it, just like Jon and Sasha are trying to learn to control their new powers, but Jon Prime warned them already that it will be harder for them to not let it slip in involuntarily when they’re upset or stressed. Martin is trying very hard not to force Tim to tell him anything. It’s a courtesy Tim doesn’t think he deserves, but he swallows down on the guilt. “Just twisted, I think. No big deal.” He eases away from Martin and stands; it hurts a bit, but he’s at least able to do it on his own.

Martin lets him, but he’s still hovering, around both him and Jon. Jon stands facing Tim, looking grim. “You didn’t have your phone with you, Tim. We couldn’t contact you. It’s been two hours.”

Tim winces. “I didn’t realize I’d left it behind until it was too late to come back, and then I just…I thought I’d be back sooner. Sorry, boss. I’ll make up the time.”

“I’m not worried about the time, Tim!” Jon throws his hands up in frustration. “I’m worried about you. You were gone longer than you should have been, and we had no way of getting in touch with you, nor any idea where you were.”

“I—I was going to text you, but—”

“No, Tim, we didn’t know where you were,” Martin emphasizes. “Sasha tried to Know where you’d gone and gave herself a nosebleed. Jon tried and passed out! I-I finally asked downstairs, and all he’d say was that you were safe and on the way back, but that’s really not as comforting as he made it sound.”

“I know how you feel about…all of that,” Jon says, his voice sounding strained, “but we were worried. We were scared. Especially since…” He gestures at the files on Tim’s desk. “I wasn’t sure which one you were investigating.”

And Jon’s avoiding actually asking questions, too, out of fear of forcing Tim to answer against his will. They’re all better than he deserves, he thinks distantly, and it would serve him right if—no. He’s hurt them enough.

“The Trophy Room,” he says quietly. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out the tape recorder, which he hands to Jon. “Pretty sure I got the whole thing on there, but I haven’t had a chance to check.”

“The Trophy Room? The taxidermy shop in Barnet? The one we’re pretty sure is a stronghold for the Stranger?” Martin’s voice rises in pitch. “Are you out of your mind?”

“What were you thinking?” Jon says, clearly upset. “You’ve read that statement, you know how dangerous it is. If I had wanted someone to go there to investigate, I would have sent someone, and you would have been the last person I would choose—”

“I wasn’t going to let any of you go out there,” Tim argues.

“Tim, you’re already marked by the Stranger,” Jon says sharply. “Remember what they said? The marks make you a bigger target. It means they’re more likely to try something on you. That—whatever it was in the basement, the anglerfish thing—if Rawlings had opened the door, it might have lured you down. My God, Tim, you could have been killed and we would have had no idea where you were.”

If Tim did this to make himself feel less guilty, he failed spectacularly. He inhales sharply and tries to meet Jon’s eyes. For just a second, they seem to glow a vivid and vibrant green; Tim blinks and they go back to their normal brown. “I—I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about that, I just—all I could think about was that I needed to protect you all. I knew someone was going to end up investigating all this, we couldn’t get the truth over the phone, and I—I didn’t want to risk one of you going over there. I knew it was dangerous, but…I haven’t done enough, so I thought it had to be me.”

“Tim.” Jon’s jaw works for a moment, and then he just surges forward and hugs Tim tightly.

Tim hugs him back, feeling the tears pricking at his eyes. A moment later he feels the comforting weight and warmth of Martin’s arms around them both, but instead of making him relax, it just makes the tears flow harder. He doesn’t deserve this.

He must say that aloud, because Jon releases him and steps back to frown at him. “Don’t deserve what? What are you talking about?”

“This.” Tim gestures to Jon and Martin hovering around him, then to Sasha, who evidently was part of the hug, too, at least peripherally. “I didn’t—I fucked up, Jon. I shoved you all away and I made you feel—I was hurting, so I hurt you without any reason, and I—”

“We were all hurting,” Martin interrupts him, his face tight with sympathy. “And we all did things to hurt each other—”

“You didn’t,” Sasha points out.

“I could’ve stepped in any time, or spoken up about what was bothering me, instead of acting like I thought you’d hurt me if I tried,” Martin says. “I didn’t. I let myself class you all in the same category as my mother, and that isn’t fair to any of you. I know better. What happened this month between us is as much my fault as anyone else’s and I’m not going to sit by and act like I’m the victim in all this, because that isn’t fair to anyone. Including me.” He takes a deep breath. “We’re a team. We’re a family. We’re supposed to work together, right?”

“Right.” Tim swallows hard and wipes his eyes. “No more unauthorized field trips. Promise.”

Jon nods. “Thank you.” He glances at the tape recorder. “I’ll listen to this later, if you need me to, but meanwhile, why don’t you tell us what happened?”

Tim sighs. “Might want to sit down. This could take a while.”

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall) #tma #the magnus archives #canon typical stranger content #guilt tw #implied past emotional abuse #tim stoker stop being a dumbass challenge