i probably could have come up with a proper ficlet to go with this


‘Malfoy’s up to something’

‘Ah, shit, not again’ Ron looked from his friend to his girlfriend, a desperate sigh escaping from his lips as he got up from the library table. Harry looked unfazed, his eyes still fixed on the blond who was sitting alone at a distant corner. ‘We need to do something…’

'I know, I’ll just go grab my cloak…’

'No, Harry.’ Harry stopped, finally turning around to look at his friends. Hermione had a strange expression on her face, a mixture of pity and amusement. Ron, however, looked just like that time during second year when they had to face Aragog. What caught Harry’s attention, though, was the way Hermione had spoken, almost like she expected him to hex Malfoy right then and there. 'This needs to stop, really. We know it’s been hard for you…’

Harry winced, he hated when she treated him like a child. And, for fuck’s sake, he was sure Malfoy was up to something because he was sitting alone, scribbling something Harry was sure wasn’t related to the potions book he had opened in front of him. And he had that look on his face, like, like… he was up to something.

'Wait- what are you talking about?’

'Your obsession’ Ron whispered again, refusing to look Harry in the eye.

'I’m not obsessed!’ A bunch of students glowered at him and Madam Pince sent the three of them a warning look from where she stood. Harry felt his cheeks heat up immediately and he had to do his best not to turn around and see if that had caught Malfoy’s attention.

Hermione was still staring at him like he was a lost puppy.

'Why would you think he’s up to something?’ she sounded like a psychiatrist.

'Just look at him! He’s alone, for fuck’s sake, he’s never alone. And, and he’s obviously not studying. I bet he’s scheming something from the way he’s staring at that paper’ Harry turned his head slowly to catch a glimpse of Malfoy and had to turn around quickly since the blond seemed to have noticed them and decided to stare back.

Harry felt his cheeks heat up again for some reason. He saw from the corner os his eyes the Slytherin walking through the door, throwing something at the closest trash bin on his way out. That was it, that was Harry’s chance.

'Harry- wait, where’re you going?’ Hermione looked worried now, but she and Ron didn’t hesitate to follow him. Harry walked straight to the bin and grabbed the tiny ball of parchment before gesturing the other two to follow him.

They walked out of the library and turned an empty corner where Harry started to open the ball, flattening the paper as best as he could.

Wait-what… holy shit.

'What is it- Harry… Are you blushing?’

Ron snatched the paper from Harry’s hands before Harry could react. He stared down at the parchment to see a thousand different drawings moving, amazing doodles that covered the whole page. Drawings of Harry.

'Well, I knew I was right’ Hermione’s voice startled them both. The girl sighed and gave Harry a little smile before grabbing the paper from Ron’s hands to take a closer look. Harry felt his cheeks heat up even more and a sudden urge to snatch the piece back took hold of him. His hand stopped mid air when Hermione spoke. 'He’s really good, isn’t he?’ She was still smiling.

'What? This- this is Malfoy we’re talking about! And- fuck, Harry, I don’t even know what to say…’

Ron looked from the piece of parchement in Hermione’s hand to Harry’s face, which was still beet red.

'Isn’t it obvious?’ Hermione sent Ron one of those looks, the ones they were both so used to. She looked at Harry expectantly but Harry just stood there, speechless. So Malfoy was drawing him, not scheming an evil plan, nor sulking, nor writing all the names he’d put on his black list. He was doodling nice, actually beautiful, drawings. Of Harry. Which meant the boy had probably spent a hell lot of time looking at him, at his hair, his neck, his shoulders. His eyes, his smile. Because he was smiling in one of them, actually laughing.

'It means he has a crush on Harry’ Hermione rolled her eyes like she hadn’t just said the most absurd thing.

Ron coughed and burst out laughing before realising that the girl wasn’t joking. He froze in place, turned his head slowly towards her, his mouth gaping.

'Can you hear yourself?’ he was whispering again, probably without realising it. 'Malfoy is a boy. Harry’s enemy. He hates Harry’ he spoke punctuating every word, his blue eyes blown wide.

'Oh, Ronald, are you blind? Are you going to tell me Harry’s obsession is hate?’

'I don’t have an obsession!’ Harry tried to yell but his voice faltered. None of them seemed to notice.

'I- I don’t know what it is! I wouldn’t say 'hate’ but… Oh, come on, Hermione, are you saying you actually think-’

'Just think about it for a second! I’m sure if Harry knew how to draw he’d probably be doing the same thing’

'I can draw- wait… what- I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH ON MALFOY!  

'Holy. Shit’ Ron was staring at something above Harry’s head, his eyes blown wide like he’d just understood some complex potions theory. 'That… explains a lot’.

'NO IT DOESN’T! Harry snatched the paper from Hermione’s hand and stuffed it deeply in his pocket. That was absurd, that was… ridiculous! So maybe Malfoy wasn’t up to something, okay, he was wrong, but that- that didn’t mean…

'Harry’ Hermione sighed, pulling him into a hug. He tried to stay angry at her, thought about pushing her away but he couldn’t. He knew she wouldn’t say anything to make him feel bad, even though he still couldn’t believe both his friends would say something like that. Fuck, Malfoy? How could he have a crush on Malfoy? He hated him, the slytherin was a prick, an arrogant bastard…

He- he didn’t actually hate him. But he didn’t have a crush on him either!

Hermione pulled away. 'So you don’t have a crush on him. Okay, well, now that we know he’s not up to anything we can just drop it, right? I need to finish my transfiguration essay and you both need to finish your potions essays so we better go back in there’ She sent Ron a hard look before turning on her heels and marching to the library. Ron tried to follow her but Harry grabbed his arm, holding him in place.

'What the fuck?’ Harry whispered so Hermione wouldn’t hear him.


'Do you actually think I have a crush on- on Malfoy?’

Ron blushed and looked away. 'Mate, let’s just leave it, okay? We better get going-’

Harry strengthened his grip, bringing back Ron’s attention.

'I don’t have a crush on him. I don’t’

Ron nodded and gave him an unconvincing smile 'Whatever you say, Harry. As long as you stop talking about him’.

Except Harry didn’t. Harry couldn’t.

The next day Ron sat across from Harry at breakfast just to find his friend constantly searching the table at the opposite wall from them. Harry wouldn’t say a thing, wouldn’t pay proper attention to their conversation. Until he found what he was looking for and Ron had to watch as Harry’s cheeks were painted in pink, darker by the second.

The next day Hermione observed as Harry did the same thing, smiling widely - even though Ron had no idea why she’d do that - when Harry asked which classes Gryffindor had with Slytherin since now they were eighth years and their schedule had changed quite a lot.

And then they had herbology on thursday morning and Ron almost punched Harry when Professor Sprout took points from them because Harry 'couldn’t keep his eyes on his own table’.

Inside their dorms Harry would always have the map open in front of him, while studying, while talking to his roomates, even while changing, for Merlin’s sake. His finger would follow that small dot Ron never had to check to know who it was.

The worst part was that Malfoy was basically doing the same bloody thing.

Instead of his typical sneer the slytherin would blush and turn his gaze away everytime he caught Harry looking at him, which had been a lot. The rare times Harry wasn’t looking, and Ron unfortunately was, Malfoy would scribble on some random piece of parchment while casting glances at Harry. Some of them he would fold and hide in the middle of his notes. The other ones he would throw away just so Harry could fish them out of the trash bin. Harry thought Ron didn’t know he was doing that and, being his loyal friend, the ginger preferred to spare the other from the humiliation so he didn’t tell him he knew.

When monday rolled around Ron snapped.

'I can’t, that’s it, that’s enough’ Ron’s grip on his feather was so strong it broke in half, startling Hermione who was focused on her own potion. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when her eyes turned to Harry and consequently to Harry’s table where she could see small pieces of parchment with tiny doodles glued to the margins of Harry’s notes. She let out a giggle and Ron grunted, throwing his things inside his bag.

'Where are you going?’ Hermione stopped immediately when Ron pushed his chair to get up. He stopped before doing so and bent forward so he was face to face with the girl.

'Look at them, just look. They’re not even trying to hide anymore, they just keep staring at each other like- like, you know what I mean. And Harry just sighed, shit, if i see anymore of this I’m gonna puke’

Harry, apparently, wasn’t even listening, his eyes fixed on Malfoy who kept darting glances at him while scribbling fast. Harry knew he was drawing him and that alone was sending shivers down his spine. The boy decided not to think about that, not to think about anything actually because he knew that was fucked up, he should be creeped out after all. But he wasn’t, he was… happy? And maybe Malfoy would throw that one away and Harry would be able to keep it…

'He’s not even listening! Who are you and what did you do to our friend?!’ Harry turned his head away from those grey eyes to face a red face full of freckles in front of him. Ron seemed pissed, though Harry didn’t quite know why since his friend’s potion seemed to have turned out okay from what Harry could see.

'What happened?’ He looked at Hermione, who was trying really hard to hold her giggles when her face drained of color and her mouth dropped open. The next second long fingers were digging in Harry’s shoulder, turning him around forcefully. And there was Malfoy, right there staring at him with cold eyes. His mouth was a line, barely visible, until he opened it to speak and Harry saw how red his lips were contrasting with his pale skin.

‘Potter’ He yanked one of the pieces of parchment from Harry’s- shit shit shit, they were everywhere, the doodles, the ones that were supposed to be where Malfoy had put them, not on Harry’s things. Harry darted his eyes up, his mouth opening and closing while he tried desperately to think of something to use as an excuse but nothing came to his mind. ‘We need to talk. I’ll wait for you outside’. They were dismissed the next minute and neither Ron nor Hermione said a thing when Harry got up and left alone.

Fuck, fucking shit. He was an idiot, what would Malfoy think now? That he was stalking him, which he obviously wasn’t. It was just, the drawings… they were, er, nice. Right, he could say that-

‘How many?’ Harry stopped shortly where he was when he heard that voice from behind him. He turned around to meet Malfoy leaning against a wall, next to the huge hallway windows. His hair was like silk, each strand curling at the ends, completely different from the gelled neat style Harry was used to seeing. His expression was hard, almost hurt, and something weighed uncomfortably at the bottom of Harry’s stomach.

‘Five’ Harry heard his voice though it didn’t sound like his own at all. ‘I’m sorry-‘

‘I couldn’t sleep’ Harry closed his mouth, Draco turned his eyes away. ‘After the war ended, I couldn’t sleep. I would stay awake for hours just… thinking. And the faces of-‘ The boy gulped making Harry shiver. He knew, he knew exactly what Malfoy was talking about because he saw the same faces every night. All of them now populated his dreams with his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore.

Draco closed his eyes before continuing. ‘So I needed to get them out. I like drawing, you see’ He opened them and Harry felt his whole body warm with the instensity of the other’s gaze. ‘But yours- your face wouldn’t leave me alone’

‘So you started drawing me’ Harry took a step closer.

‘Yes. And it helped at first. But I came back- we came back’ He looked at the ceiling, closed his eyes again, inhaled. Harry took another step closer.

'You’re really good at it. They’re so… realistic’ Another step. If Harry reached out he could touch Malfoy’s hair.

Malfoy looked at him, grey piercing through green. 'You were everywhere’ His voice came out a whisper but his eyes were screaming. 'The papers, those pictures. You- you looked exhausted

Harry let a sad smile form on his lips. He remembered the thousands of interviews, flashes of cameras, people screaming his name. He remembered the trials and he remembered Draco Malfoy’s face. Exhausted.

Draco was a victim of the war just like him.

'I couldn’t sleep’ Harry said, taking another step towards Draco, the last one.

'I wanted to reach you, but everyone kept saying I was-’


Draco’s eyes were wide, shining. Harry let his fingers play with his, intertwine, brush against each other. 'I guess I’ve been all along’ The blond whispered, lacing his fingers with Harry’s.

As classes ended, the corridors became more crowded by the minute. Noise, whispers, gasps of shock reached Harry’s ears but all he could think about was why had he waited so long to feel Malfoy’s lips moving against his own, how nice the Slytherin’s hands felt placed on his waist. And knowing that he didn’t care about anyone’s opinion was almost as good as knowing Draco didn’t either.


Untitled Avengers Fic

(because I hear there was some sort of sportsball thing today, have a really bad idea.  Or at least the start of one.   It’s copperbadge fault. )

Steve stared up at the jumbotron. “I hate this,” he said.

“What, the KissCam?” Nat said, barely sparing it a glance. She had her arms folded on the railing on the edge of the box, and her attention was down on the field. “It’s harmless.”

Steve’s mouth thinned out. “It seems like crowd pressure to make people do something that they wouldn’t usually do in public,” he said. “It’s not right.”

“It’s tacky and stupid and embarrassing,” Rhodey agreed from Nat’s other side. “Which means it’s really popular, Cap.”

“Most popular things are at least one of those three,” Tony said. He was staring down at his phone, his thumbs flicking against the surface so fast that they were almost invisible. “The really popular ones are all three.” He waved a hand. “And the crowd must be distracted for the three minutes when play is stopped.”

“Otherwise, they are likely to turn on each other,” Nat agreed, a smile curling her lips.

“It’s not right,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest. The camera focused in on a girl and boy, and she blushed bright red, hiding her face behind her hands, and then, when it was clear that they weren’t going to move on, she leaned over and planted a kiss on the boy’s cheek. To general laughter, the camera moved on.

“Your general hatred of bullies is noted,” Nat said, her eyes dancing.

“It’s not right,” Steve said.

“I think we need to distract him with food,” Rhodey said.

“We could, but we sent Sam and Clint out for snacks, and that’s why we’re still hungry,” Nat said.

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anonymous asked:

I know its a bit late in the day to ask but Nurseydex future fic fathers day?

Nursey wakes up to the sound of something being dropped in the kitchen and a muffled, “Oh crap!”

It’s a little terrifying at first, until he checks his clock and sees that it’s 7:30 AM and remembers that it’s Father’s Day. Dex is still asleep beside him, which means that it’s probably Beto and Georgie in the kitchen. He debates going out to check on them, but he figures they’re both ten now, they can figure out breakfast on their own, and they’re probably trying to surprise them, anyway.

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1000 Follower Ficlet #17

Requested by the lovely @potatothecat!

Fandom: Star Trek AOS.
Pairing: Leonard McCoy X Reader.
Prompt: Nursing the Sick One.
Rating: All ages.
Words: 1757.
Author’s Note: Thank you to @galaxycharmed for some of the dialogue used in this ficlet and feedback on the general mess of an idea this was at first!  This one has mentions of nudity, but not in a sexual context.

Originally posted by whichisnone

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“I could teach you.”

And Sherlock clears his throat.

Looks at the ground.

Tries to work out where, precisely, that suggestion came from- Since he certainly hadn’t meant to offer his teaching services today.

Molly’s blinking up at him, her expression startled. His heart is thudding rather loudly in his chest- So loud that he feels an odd terror she’ll be able to hear it. That she’ll be able to tell that, whatever his attempts at nonchalance, his last offer was far from casual. The urge to babble under her gaze is becoming almost overwhelming but he tamps it down, makes himself look at her-

When he speaks next, his voice is surprisingly even.

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mechformers  asked:

Congratulations on your milestone! That is so exciting 😊 If I'm not too late to this, could we possibly get a continuation of the Uliro crave one? *insert the most wobbliest begging eyes you can picture*

(send me a number and I’ll write a micro story using the word or phrase!)

Well I’m afraid I can picture some terribly persuasive wobbling eyes. You’re jumping the queue a little bit, as I have another “crave” request coming up and I wan’t to avoid confusion as much as possible.

A follow up to this.

Shiro wakes slowly, feeling hazy and heavy and a little too warm with Ulaz’s chest resting beneath his cheek and his heartbeat thrumming in his ear. It’s quicker, than a human’s, pumping in motions of three instead of two: ba-da-dum, ba-da-dum.

“What time is it?” Shiro asks, trying to swallow back the gummy feeling in his mouth.

“You have been asleep for three vargas,” Ulaz says. He draws a clawed finger down the back of Shiro’s neck, repeats the action with a curled knuckle when Shiro shivers in response. Shiro suspects Ulaz does these things because he likes to watch him react, likes to categorize the motions that make Shiro tremble or sigh or slump bonelessly against him.

Shiro opens his eyes, blinking at the blurred image of his own hand, curled close to his face and clutching loosely at the front of Ulaz’s shirt. “Did you sleep at all?”

“No,” Ulaz says.

It’s not surprising. Shiro knows that Ulaz doesn’t need nearly as much sleep as a human. But still–

Shiro sits up, ignoring Ulaz’s displeased grumble as he turns to look at him. His bangs are in his eyes, mussed up and curling a little from being slept on while wet, and Ulaz brushes them aside before Shiro can lift his arm to do so himself.

“You haven’t just been watching me sleep the entire time, have you?”

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anonymous asked:

8i for the ficlet thing

Ahhhhhh I don’t know how to make things short anymoreeeeee.


Dr. Merlin Emrys was the best forensic scientist in Camelot City. He was detailed and thorough in everything he did. There was never a scrap of evidence out of place or a particle forgotten when Merlin was working on a case. It was probably the only reason Super Special Agent Prat-dragon put up with Merlin for so long. Especially when Merlin called his boss, Special Agent Arthur Pendragon, any variation of his real name. It was a miracle Merlin hadn’t been sacked for insubordination.

Arthur usually said that he only kept Merlin around because no one else could identify ‘random shit’ like Merlin could. Merlin took it as a compliment since the evidence he found was usually essential to their cases. Once Arthur even admitted that without Merlin his team would have been dead in the water on a few cases.

Despite all Arthur’s talk, Merlin was fairly certain that Arthur kept him around because Arthur actually liked him. Merlin had been added to Pendragon’s team five years ago, and despite a rocky start, Merlin and Arthur had clicked within that first year. Their minds worked in sync and as soon as Arthur had something, Merlin was one step behind him. They were two peas in a pod, despite the fact that they bantered more than they talked. They saw each other everyday. If it wasn’t at the morning report, it was lunch in the cafeteria, or Arthur visiting Merlin in his lab. Arthur often brought Merlin his favorite coffee from Dragons Cafe with a perfect amount of whipped cream (too much whipped cream in Arthur’s opinion). Merlin also knew that Arthur went in person to get the coffee, instead of sending a terrified lackey, because the cups always said ‘Arthur’ on the sides. They had become a pair, and Merlin had thought perhaps if they hadn’t met at work…there would be something more there too.

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Custody of Brianna Ellen Randall

This ficlet is part of the Jamie Through the Stones AU which starts with Third Time’s the Charm.

This ficlet is a direct continuation from Summoned

My Fanfiction Master List

Available on AO3 as Written in the Stones

This is an Outlander canon divergence AU ficlet.

Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I did not have time to do research on how divorce proceedings in Scotland in 1958/1959 would have unfolded so this is almost certainly in no way historically accurate. I also don’t care that it’s not.

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anonymous asked:

Jem and Will and Tessa, 19

  • AU: Bakery AU

Working in a bake shop was not what Will had imagined when he had imagined his twenties. Wasn’t he supposed to have a nice car and a well paying job with a path right to the top of some firm all laid out for him? Somehow, life hadn’t gotten the memo and instead of that, he had bitchy customers who ordered things that Starbucks served but they didn’t even carry the ingredients for.

“What do you mean you don’t have vanilla syrup? What is this place?”

“A bakery ma'am, we sell 19 different kinds of baguette if you wanted some bread but unfortunately we only  carry three choices for coffee.”

After she had huffed off in a rage about his terrible service and his obscene lack of low-calorie flavoured coffee syrups, one of the bakers stuck his head out from the kitchen and laughed. Will turned to roll his eyes and Jem laughed and wiped a bit of something off his face with the back of his hand. Stupid adorable baker boy. His shift would be done in another hour and Will would get to spend the rest of the day selling the things he had made.

“She’s going to write a terrible yelp review.”

“Good, she can scare off all the other soccer moms,” Will said.

“Soccer moms order birthday cakes by the truck full, they make up half our business.”

“Listen Mr. Practical,” Will started and then the bell rang and he turned back to the door. The woman standing just inside was tall and pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way and it took him a moment to realize why she looked familiar. When he did, he said, “New girl!”

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cardigan-carm  asked:

Volcano by Damien Rice Promptis This'll be the last one I submit so other folks can submit to you. I really love the idea of this, song associated with ficlets. That's some good shit, great idea!

Aww, what a pretty song, and the lyrics are really perfect for Promptis! Now I’ve seen a lot of Prompto-pining-after-Noct-thinking-he’s-not-good-enough, but this song speaks to me in the reverse. So. Here ya go! (It isn’t smutty but I’ve got two more of these for you and I promise to make up for it there :) )

Originally posted by implift

What I Am to You is Not What You Mean to Me
(Rating: G // Pining, teenage angst, fluff)

Noct looks up from his half-eaten burger and rolls his eyes. “Dude, sit down already, you’re an embarrassment.” 

Across the table, Prompto is hanging over the back of the booth and grinning at the group of students sitting on the other side. His camera flashes again, and Noct hears a handful of the girls giggle.

“Prompto!” The blonde stiffens, turns to smile sheepishly at his friend before he plops back down into his own seat. The camera disappears inside the jacket of his uniform. 

“Sorry, I get carried away sometimes. What were we talking about?”

“Forget it.” Sulkily, the prince snatches up his cup and hope he still manages to look pouty enough while sucking his strawberry milkshake noisily through his straw. 

Apparently he doesn’t. “Heh, no one would believe me that the prince of Lucis can be such a baby sometimes.” Prompto laughs, tosses a fry at him across the table. “Well, Ignis probably would.”

“Remind me to never invite you out on a date again.” Noct is so busy glaring at the dirty white-and-black tiles at his feet that he misses the bright red flush burst over freckled skin. Just as quickly, Prompto swallows back his surprise and plays off what he knows was obviously a joke. 

“Yeah, next time spare me having to put on pants on the weekend.” His chuckle is forced, awkward as he waggles another fry in the air to distract himself. Noctis risks glancing up.

When did it start, exactly? These feelings? If he thinks back to the year before, to the day Prompto came bounding up to him outside of their new high school and clapped him on the shoulder, he wonders if maybe the blonde has always meant more to him than just a friend. His bright smile, his carefree attitude (both such rarities in Noct’s life at the Citadel), there’s no way he couldn’t have fallen in love with this bubbly kid who ended up becoming his best friend. 

He’s never told Prompto, of course. There was only that one time, at one of Luna’s house parties, that he’d come so close. They’d both been drinking, had ended up together on the roof outside one of the upstairs rooms, and Prompto had leaned in too close. Without thinking, Noct had kissed him, right on the mouth - but the magical moment had ended too soon, and when Prom had pulled away with a look of shock on his face Noct had blamed it on the alcohol. 

He should have told him. He kicks himself constantly for the missed opportunity, knows Prom well enough to know that nothing could ever come between their friendship, even admitting his own crush. And yet…. He still can’t bring himself to say it. 

Why? Because he’s terrified of hearing the only answer he expects from those soft lips. 

I don’t need you

And now Prompto is turning around again. One of the girls is posing with him for a selfie and giggling, and Noct knows he’s done it again, has missed his chance and wasted his time. Without another word, he tosses his empty cup onto the table and stands up to leave. 

Sure, he has Prompto’s friendship as well as his loyalty, and he knows he should be grateful for what he can get. But, well, it simply isn’t enough. Miles and miles of mountains, but all he wants is the sea.


He ignores the question as he turns on his heels. Prompto doesn’t understand. How could he? He’ll never understand what it’s like to love someone so deeply, yet feel so useless to make the move. 

“Hey, Noct, wait up!”

Prompto reaches him just outside of the diner. It’s already getting dark, colder, and they both shiver as an icy breeze cuts through the parking lot. 

“Go back in to your new friends,” Noct says, sounding sharper than he really means to but unable to hold back his hurt. Blue eyes soften as Prompto steps closer. 

“I’m really sorry, Noct. I didn’t mean to ignore you, honest.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” the blonde argues. When he reaches out to wrap his fingers around Noct’s wrist, the prince freezes - he’s torn between wanting to run away and wanting to turn and pull Prompto into his arms. 

“Don’t go.” As if reading his mind, Prom whispers the plea at his back. “Or go anyway and take me with you, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t leave me alone.”

“H-hey.” Noct glances over his shoulder to see Prompto looking at him with a shy smile. It looks a lot like the smile he showed him that night at Luna’s, right before they…. A blush forms on the prince’s cheeks, and he’s suddenly glad for the shadows playing across his face. “You wanna…go back to my place?”

A pause, then Prompto nods firmly. “Just you and me. We can stay up all night playing games.”

Noct manages a tiny smile. “And reading comics. Anything but homework.”

“I’ll call and tell my parents I’m staying over.” Prompto’s fingers are still around his wrist, and for once Noctis doesn’t miss the way they’re trembling slightly as his friend leans in. “It’ll be a proper date.”

“Oh,” Noct brightens. The urge to close the short distance between their mouths is bursting inside him like a volcano, melting his resolve. “Yeah, sounds good. A date.”

“A date.”

Prompto’s cheeks are as red as his face feels. As they move together toward their bikes parked on the other side of the Crow’s Nest diner, Noct lets his fingers slip down over Prompto’s palm. To his relief, his friend laces his own fingers around them as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

Smiling, Noct wonders if he might just get a second chance tonight 

it’s easy to miss the gold we find

ao3 link

a series of ficlets written for robert week. 

day two: write a scene between your favourite robert/family relationship. or, robert and victoria have a conversation about boys and pride over ice-cream.

“We could go to a gay bar, you know,” Victoria said, looking up at him, mug of coffee in hand. They’d come into Leeds for the day, to do some shopping, but Robert knew it was his little sister just trying to cheer him up a little, distract him from the breakup.

He appreciated it, all the same.

“You what?” Robert raised an eyebrow, aimlessly stirring his coffee. He wasn’t much of a fan of Starbucks, but Vic liked all their overly sugary coffees, so he’d let her drag him inside, flashing his bank card at the cashier as Victoria tried to pay.

He’d missed out on so much of her life, the least he could do was buy her a few coffees.

“We could go to Bar West!” Victoria beamed at him. “Or somewhere in Leeds, if you’d rather. I bet there’s loads of really cool gay bars around here, we could make a proper night of it.”

Robert shook his head. “I don’t do gay bars, Vic,” he shrugged off her suggestion, taking a swig of his coffee, hoping she’d get the hint, and move on.

“Why not?” she was pushing, off course she was pushing. This was Vic, after all, she’d never been able to let anything lie in her life.

“Because I don’t, so drop it, Vic,” Robert practically growled at her, spotting the sign for the bathroom at the back of the coffee shop. He stood up before she could reply, making a beeline for the toilet before anyone else could get there first.

Robert locked the door behind him, breathing ragged as he sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, head in his hands.

He hated that he still felt like this.

Robert was trying, he really was. He wanted to be the kind of person who didn’t feel like he had to run and hide, every time someone mentioned a gay bar, our god forbid, pride, but he was.

He wasn’t proud, and he wasn’t sure he ever would be.

“Robert?” Victoria’s soft knock, and even softer voice roused him from his thoughts, made him remember he was hiding in a Starbucks bathroom from his own little sister because she’d mentioned a gay bar.

How sad was that?

“I’ll be out in a second,” Robert managed to choke out, pulling the handle of the toilet to flush it, making a fuss of washing and drying his hands before he unlocked the door, met with Victoria’s concerned face instantly.

She’d gathered up all their shopping bags, looking smaller than ever under the weight of everything she was holding.

Robert expected her to fuss, but she just looked at him, eyes wide.

“Let’s go and get an ice-cream,” she said, decisive.

Robert couldn’t really do anything except let her sweep him along, taking a few of the bags from her, Victoria looping her arm through his.

If there was anything good to come from his breakup with Aaron, Robert mused, it was the fact he and Victoria were so close now. They’d been best friends, once upon a time, Robert reassuring her of it not long after their mum had died, but time, and life, and all the mistakes Robert had made that pushed them apart.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself for missing out on so much of her life.

Victoria insisted on buying them two ice cream cones, settling herself on a park bench, bags at her feet, Robert trailing behind her.

“Vic, I….”

“You don’t have to talk to me about it,” Victoria interrupted, giving him a sincere smile. “I’m never going to be able to understand what it was like for you, I know that much. I just think that maybe you should talk about it, now you don’t have Aaron to talk to about it all.”

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A warmup ficlet, set in Wakanda, most likely pre-cryo, but could be post-cryo if you prefer to feel joy. Steve/Bucky, obviously.

The night is hot and still – no breeze, no glimmer of motion in the dark – but Steve can hear the sounds of jungle life all around the balcony. T’Challa’s people set him up in a beautiful suite next to the medical wing, which Steve had been ignoring in favor of a chair next to Bucky’s bed. This is, in fact, only Steve’s second time there. 

Bucky is up and about, talking to the medical staff, and he has sent Steve away. 

“You didn’t have to stay with me,” he said. 

As if Steve could leave him alone, fading in and out of consciousness, injured and in an unfamiliar place. Healing factor works fast, but every time Bucky came to, he was in pain, disoriented. Steve didn’t miss the way Bucky’s eyes went wide with fear each time they opened, they way the monitor spiked until Bucky focused in on Steve’s face, on Steve’s hand holding his, and relaxed. Even that small gesture of intimacy had felt bold, like Steve might be overstepping, until the first time Bucky opened his eyes and squeezed, like he was holding on for dear life. 

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Fueled By Knock-Off Ramen: Part 1

and as i promised, a ficlet featuring the Funhaus crew in GTA settings. wrote this for the fun of it. i hope you enjoy it. it’s probably going to be a two parter. the set up and the pay off

let me know what you think!

They were a group of four and three contract freelancers respectively.

They didn’t have a permanent base of operations.

They didn’t have a set budget to operate on.

They were so low level that no one knew their name. Not the cops. Not the other gangs. Not even the news.

Perhaps that had something to do with their branding issue.

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Ficlet: Material Girl

I had a couple of anons asking for Harry spending his popstar money on Nick when I made a call for prompts for Wednesday Night Drabbles/Ficlets. The drabbles/ficlets (so far all ficlets, definitely not drabbles) didn’t all get delivered on the evening, and I still have a couple more to post. If you’re interested the first three are Chicken and Chips (Louis/Nick), Always You (Harry/Nick) and Straight Through Crew (Louis/Nick). 

I feel like Harry doesn’t buy Nick nearly enough things in this to qualify for his sugar daddy status, but I hope the anons that wanted Harry spending money on Nick like the fic nonetheless. Thank you for prompting! 

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our love is like jesus, but worse

“You know, you’re a really shitty incubus,” says Eren, with a smugness that doesn’t sit right with the purity of his appearance or his halo. It isn’t the first time that Jean’s had this particular thought, and it’s not the last time he’ll have it either: angels are assholes.

“But I could teach you,” Eren adds with a slyly raised eyebrow, his casual lounge on his cloud turning suggestive. His toga rides up his thighs.

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I’m having a shite week and I can’t seem to get any sleep? So I wrote, as I do.

Lilo comfort fic, PG, set during the OTRA tour. Inspired by my “1d as cures for insomnia” post.

He hasn’t slept in three days.

It’s like he forgot how, from one day to the next.

At first he thought it was just the excitement from starting the second leg of the tour; getting back on stage after a month off is always such a rush, and since they’ve become a foursome the crowds have gotten even louder, as if they’re trying to fill up the void. But they’re on their third concert and he still hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

It’s starting to worry him.

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Miraculous Fluff: Day 17

Well well well. I am sorry for all of you who don’t want to read a long prompt-based ficlet, but a proper AU requires a foundation to be built upon. I also don’t want to be the person who jumps into an unrealistic relationship. So, this fluff is friend-based Adrienette. Feel free to read this, and all of my previous fics, on AO3 by using this link. These are all in the same storyline (except this one, of course) But are generally able to be read individually. Without further ado, please enjoy my take on @miraculousfluffmonth Day 17: AU!!!

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Adrien wandered around Paris, thinking about the experience it would be to go to school. He had not been able to convince his father to let him continue going to the school, but his persistence in trying to get out managed to help clear his schedule a little. Apparently, his “Brash Behavior” was due to his schedule putting too much pressure on him. As a result, Adrien was free to wander the town a little bit.

Sometimes, he would stop by the school and say hi to Chloe. Whenever he did, he always saw a group of three people hanging out on the top of the stairs. There was a boy, who almost exclusively wore a red hat and a blue shirt, a girl with glasses, and hair that turned from brown to red, and one more girl who managed to peak his interest. She had blue-black hair done up in pigtails, long slender legs, thin waist, small arms, and a cute face with a smattering of freckles. There was just one small problem. Whenever any of the three saw him, the group would immediately leave.

Adrien had asked Chloe about it, and she said that those three were “bratty kids with no respect for authority”. Adrien knew that it probably meant that those three had upset Chloe one time. Chloe especially hated the black-haired girl for some reason. Chloe never even said her name. Adrien was fully aware that Chloe was not the most desirable person to be around, so he planned to use her influence to get some new friends. That was so far not working.

One Saturday afternoon, Adrien was walking around town, and saw two of the friends talking in a cafe. It was the boy and the girl with glasses. They seemed to be on some sort of date. They were leaning in, talking in confidential tones. When Adrien passed by their table, he heard part of the conversation. The girl was talking about the Ladyblog! This could only be the mysterious Alya, moderator of the Ladyblog.

As Adrien walked by, a small shape barreled into him, nearly sending him off if his feet. He grabbed at the shape, as it started to fall backwards. He ended up grabbing the black-haired girl by the shoulders. She had taken a corner at a rapid pace, and had ran right into him. She barely even looked up.

“Sorry.” With that, she was off. Adrien turned to watch her go as she joined the two at the table. They seemed genuinely surprised to see her there, but she waved off their questions as she showed Alya something in a sketchbook she had. Alya pointed, and the girl turned to look at Adrien. The girl paled, and slowly started to walk towards him, her feet shuffling.

“Hey. Sorry about running into you earlier.” The girl said, looking at her feet.

“It’s fine! I’m glad I managed to catch you.” The girl looked back up at him, her eyes betraying her surprise.

“Well… I guess that it is a good thing that you did…” The girl looked back down. Adrien thought that the behavior was strange.

“What’s wrong? You seem to be… tense.” The girl looked back at him.

“You’re a friend of Chloe, right?” Adrien nodded. “Well, I’m guessing that you are going to go back to her and laugh at my clumsiness.”

Adrien stared at her, perplexed. “Why would I do that?”

The girl looked at him, giving him a strange look. “That’s what Chloe does. She laughs at how clumsy I am.”

Adrien had a sudden epiphany. This was the klutz-girl that Chloe rants about, howling in peals of laughter. Adrien had never laughed. Some of the situations sounded like they probably hurt. And more than a few of them sounded like the girl had some extra help to fall.

“I’m not telling Chloe. Between you and me, I am hoping to make some new friends. I don’t want Chloe to be my only friend. She has… changed.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck.

The girl looked at him with new eyes. “I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She held out her hand.

“Adrien Agreste.” Adrien shook her hand. Marinettes’ eyes went wide.

“Son of Gabriel Agreste? Head of Agreste fashion?” Adrien winced. So, she was another fan girl. Yay.

“The very same.” Adrien fished around in his pocket for a pen, thinking that she would want something signed. The pen was out and nearly uncapped before he realized that Marinette had not grabbed anything for him to sign. There was a napkin sitting untouched on a table near them, and Marinette was still holding the sketchbook.

“What are you pulling out a pen for?” Marinette was looking at the pen quizzically. Adrien shrugged.

“Most people ask me for autographs when they first meet me. I guess that it is habit, now.”

Marinette laughed. “I like your fathers’ work, but I don’t need an autograph. There is something else you can do for me, though.” Adrien nodded, not surprised. “Come have lunch with me.” Adrien looked at her, thinking that he must have heard wrong. “Not as a date, but as friends. You did say that you wanted some more friends, right? Well, if you are serious about it, let’s give it a shot!”

Adrien was dumbfounded. Here he was, talking to the one girl who Chloe hated above all else, and she was telling him that she would willingly be his friend, even though it would make Chloe very angry at her. Adrien figured that if Chloe got mad at Marinette, Adrien could do something about it.

“OK! Where are we going?”

Marinette gestured at a bakery down the street. It had a vaguely familiar logo. With a start, Adrien realized that this bakery had been commissioned by his father a few times for work parties. What caught his attention was the name: “The Dupain-Cheng Patisserie”. Adrien remembered that Marinettes’ last name was Dupain-Cheng.

“Does your family own this bakery?” Adrien asked. Marinette nodded. Adrien just about bounded in the doors, welcoming the scent of freshly made bread. He made to stand in line, but something grabbed his collar and pulled him to behind the counter, and through a door, past the kitchen, into a living room. He turned to see that Marinette was the force that pulled him. She went to the fridge, and started to pull out some containers. While she prepared the lunch, Adrien looked about at the living room. It was… homely. Lived in. There was a couch, the type that bent into a right-degree angle, next to a large window. There was a TV, with a game console beneath it. Adrien spotted a game case and nearly squealed in delight.

“IS THAT ULTIMATE MECHA STRIKE?”Adrien said. Marinette looked at him, nodding with a grin on her face.

“Want to go a couple rounds?” Adrien nodded emphatically.

As the two ate lunch Adrien learned that challenging Marinette was a bad idea. She was fantastic at the game, beating him at every turn. Adrien blamed the fact that he was never allowed to play online, and he had no friends with a real interest in playing the game, so he was forced to fight the computer bots. Adrien had learned the computers’ strategy, and beat any computer bot with ease. Playing against Marinette, though, was entirely different. She used tricks, and faked him out. Adrien still put up a pretty good fight, though.

After the lunch was done, Marinette asked Adrien if he had any plans. When Adrien shook his head, Marinette pulled out her phone and called Alya. “Hey, I just finished up with lunch. You, me, and Nino should go see a movie today. Yeah, that new superhero one! Oh, by the way, I am going to bring someone. Yes, it is, in fact a boy. It is going to piss off Chloe to no end. Of course, Alya. Bye!”

Marinette pulled Adrien back out to the street, and dragged him to the theater. The other couple was already waiting by the doors. When Adrien came into view, being dragged by a determined Marinette, they visibly stiffened. The boy, Nino Adrien guessed, walked up to Adrien while Alya pulled Marinette aside. They started to talk in hushed whispers as Nino held out his hand.

“I’m Nino. I guess that even though you hang out with Chloe, Marinette thinks you’re chill. I trust her judgment. Welcome to the gang!”

Alya walked over, a sheepish expression on her face. “Well, I guess that you are not as bad as Chloe, so hey. I’m Alya.” As Adrien shook her hand, Alya gave Marinette a strange look. “Marinette stayed up all night yesterday to work on a design. Don’t be surprised if she falls asleep on you.” with a wink, Alya went to Nino, linked arms with him, and they vanished into the theater.

True to Alyas’ word, Marinette curled up in her seat, and closed her eyes during the previews and commercials before the movie. Adrien jumped a little when Marinette got into a comfortable position that included his shoulder. Adrien looked down at the sleepy black-haired girl and wondered at the transformation from the lively girl he had just met. He looked at Alya, and got only a shrug in response.  He relaxed, and watched the commercials play, only waking Marinette when the movie started. She didn’t even make it to the reveal of the villain before she was back asleep, hugging into his arm even more.

There had been an akuma attack the night before, keeping him and Ladybug up all night, so Adrien felt his own eyes getting heavy in the darkened room. It wasn’t long before he woke to lights turning back on, and Alya leaning forward, her phone aimed at him. He woke with a start, and accidentally woke Marinette as well. Alya cackled with joy, then ran out of the theater as Marinette bounded after her. Nino gave Adrien a sly look.

“You just met her, and you’re already falling asleep on her?”

Adrien smiled. “Well, I’m a very outgoing person. I fall asleep on everyone. You better watch out for when you are the closest person when I’m sleepy.”

Nino laughed heartily at that, and Adrien was quick to follow. They exited the theater, and managed to catch Marinette before she could rip the phone from Alyas’ hand and delete the picture. But, the damage was already done, for Ninos’ phone chimed with a notification Adrien had been expecting.

wowjeena  asked:

Yo! Can you do something where the Bat family reacts to Brucexreader?

Hey~ I asked wowjeena if she wanted ordinary!reader or not, and she said ordinary, which I’m totally not bitter about because it’s not as if I had a great starting line about how facing down ninjas were better than coming out to the BatFam about their relationship. 
Once again, there’s no specific reference to gender about the reader, so go for you life. Also bi!Bruce because…bi!Bruce. 
Also, I’m totally not incredibly upset that I accidentally pressed control+w by accident and closed the tab halfway through writing this and had to rewrite the whole thing. Me? Upset? Destroyed because it was going perfectly? Haha. No. Of course not. *Cries*

Bruce was fidgeting. 
Which you found hilarious. 
Sure, you were freaking out slightly too, but you weren’t Batman. 
And yes, ordinarily, Batman being nervous would scare the crap out of you, and most of Gotham… if Gotham even had ordinary days. 
But this wasn’t an ordinary day. 
There wasn’t an alien invasion or a rash of Joker Gas-related murders. 
You were going to meet the ‘Bat Family.’
And yes, you’d met most of them around town, sometimes in costume, sometimes not… It was Gotham, shit happens. 
But this was different, because while you’d met the occasional member of Bruce’s Brood one or twice, even exchanged a few words with some of them - this was the first time you’d meet them as… as Bruce’s date. 
Which you also found just the tiniest bit ridiculous, because Bruce was sure none of them knew before he’d told them last night that he was going to bring you over, and that was so weird because they were supposed to be raised by the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’, and you’d think they could figure out that Bruce was dating someone.
Then again, it was Bruce
Having a real relationship… you could see why Bruce’s family was surprised. 
Not that you didn’t worry about that sometimes. The playboy billionaire, the bat-themed vigilante-superhero - neither one were the type to be attracted to you. But then there were times like this, where Bruce was so open
Bruce fidgeted with his cuffs again and you laughed. Only Bruce would wear a tux to a private meeting with his own family. Then again, you weren’t complaining. Tuxes were sexy.  “You look great.” 
Bruce’s head darted up and his eyes met yours. “That’s not the point,” he chided with a patented Bruce Wayne smile, a touch of warmth in his eyes making the smile more genuine than anything the public would ever see. Then, sliding forward to press a kiss on your neck, he added lowly, “You look amazing too.” 
“I never said amazing,” you teased back. 
“It was in subtext,” he easily rebutted.  
You snort and hold out out your arm. “Shall we?” 

Bruce parked the car - expensive, flashy, overrated, with a complicated name you couldn’t be bothered remembering - in the garage behind Wayne Manor. 
He’d decided against having a driver pick you both up from your apartment, and you’d enthusiastically agreed. 
Sure the car may be a useless extravagant expense, but a private drive around Gotham in a fancy foreign car with your boyfriend… there was just a touch of that cheesy romance you pretended to hate that you couldn’t resist. 
Even more so when he actually opened your car door for you, holding out his hand to help you out. 
“Dork,” you said, taking his hand and standing up. 
He pulled you close, into a kiss, hands falling onto your hips as yours tangled in his hair, worrying only a little bit that he might’ve put some effort into it that you’d just ruined as you deepened the kiss. 
Then there was a cough and you froze, even as Bruce pulled away with an easy, rehearsed smile at his butler. 
Well, wasn’t this a cliche? 
Bruce’s arms were still keeping you close, but all you could see was the slight orchestration in his pose, all you could think about was how many times he’d probably done this with all the other girls and boys he’d brought home, the whoops-I’ve-accidentally-gotten-caught-sneaking-in-my-current-fling act. 
So you slipped out of his grip and smiled awkwardly at the butler. “Hey.” You’d met Alfred a few times before, at Bruce’s parties, but, since you and Bruce weren’t technically together at those times, you’d never had a real reason to talk to him except being offered wine or asking where the bathroom is. 
Because Alfred was a Real Life British Butler. Sarcastic, proper, prim…British. 
Also… a butler? It’s 2016. What does the guy get out of this? It sorta seemed like maybe the guy was living in the past, or something. 
You didn’t know. You also didn’t know how to react around him. Should you fall into the role of an upper class Victorian, act even more prim and proper than the butler? Where exactly was the guidebook on this? ‘Help, my boyfriend has an actual butler’. 
Step 1: Maybe not stare at him with a strained smile. 
“Hello,” you tried. 
“It is nice to finally be acquainted with you formally,” Alfred replied calmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 
You open your mouth and shut it again. “Right.” 
Bruce’s arm reached out and put a hand on your hip, hugging you to the side of his chest, before his hand trailed to the small of your back. “The family inside?” he asked in a severe tone. 
But his fingers danced on your back and you remembered how nervous he was before. 
“In the drawing room,” Alfred said, then bowed out with an “If you’ll excuse me.” 
Bruce’s fingers were still tapping against your back and you looked at him sidelong. “You gonna play Bruce Wayne all night?” 
Bruce blinked at you, then looked away, not denying it. “Sorry,” he offered. 
You huff, secretly pleased that you’d begun to actually notice things like this, when he was pretending and when he wasn’t. Honestly you were a genius. 
He brushed the back of his hand against yours. “Shall we?” he asked, parroting you from before. 
You give him a skeptical look, but allow yourself to be led into the Manor. 

If you could sum up the Manor’s design in one word…it would be: expensive. 
You weren’t even sure if there was something connecting the design all together, unless ‘flashback-version-of-a-haunted-house-in-a-movie’ was a theme. 
So you were led through corridors filled with random vases and paintings to the drawing room. You’d been in the house once or twice before, mostly for Wayne Charity Balls and the like. 
Bruce hesitated just a second before the drawing room entrance, and then you both entered. 
The room fell silent immediately.
Which wasn’t ominous. 
Bruce’s hand was back on the small of your back. 
You counted the eyes on you. Five. Five, unblinking sets of eyes looking you up and down. Judging you. 
No. They were crime fighters. They were probably just assessing you for threats or whatever. 
You resisted the urge to tuck your hair behind your ear or scratch at your elbow and smiled instead, hoping that you wouldn’t come off too dimwitted just because you weren’t a superhero and also because you had no idea what’s a good opening line for meeting your boyfriend’s family. 
Barbara Gordon - the Commissioner’s daughter - smiled back at you. Richard Grayson - whose name was technically Dick, but there was no way you were going to say that aloud until every other person in the room had said it at least once because calling someone Dick was just…anyway, Richard’s arm was slung over her shoulders casually. 
You and Bruce sat down on the empty sofa at the head of the room, Bruce crossing his ankles in front of him. 
Damian stared you down from across the room. “Do you have any special skills?” he asked bluntly. 
Damian looked exasperated. “Special skills. I assume you can do something of interest?” 
And there went any chance of you ever impressing any of these guys. You let your smile brighten, well aware you definitely looked like an idiot at this point. “Nope.” 
Damian looked at you skeptically. “Right.” Then he turned back to his book. Apparently you’d lost his favor. 
Bruce’s hand fell to your hip. “Damian has a black and white view of people,” he explained as if that was supposed to make it better. 
“Civilians only wind up getting hurt,” Damian replied, not looking up from his book. “It’s hardly my fault your flavor of the month wouldn’t last ten seconds in a fight.” 
“They’re not my ‘flavor of the month’,” Bruce said, a dark tone entering his voice. 
“Yeah, we’ve been dating for almost six months now,” you piped in because you have no sense of control, obviously. 
Damian peered at you over the top of his book, huffed and then returned to it. 
Bruce made a noise at the back of his throat and surveyed the room, almost daring them to make similar comments. 
The one you didn’t know - Red Hood, you were sure - leant back with exaggerated casualness. “That’s like six flavors,” the man commented. 
Sitting next to him, Tim glared at him. “What a great addition to the conversation,” he said dryly. 
“Hey, I’m just trying to fix Damian’s mood ruining.” 
Damian scoffed. “Because us all sitting here pretending this is going to all work out is a genuinely entertaining experience.” 
Red Hood stretched and shrugged. “That’s what we said when we first met you.” 
Damian’s eyes flashed. “Are you even still part of the Family?” 
“At least I earned my place here,” he retorted. “I didn’t just turn up one day with a birth certificate and demand a position.” 
“No, you just tried to rob us.” 
Jason made a noise. “You weren’t even born then.” 
Damian opened his mouth, but Richard cut in. 
“Can’t we all just get along,” he bemoaned exaggeratedly. 
The two boys glared at each other but said nothing more. 
Oh yeah, this was going to be fun. 

Over 1,500 words now, so this will be another one I post up here and then put up a more extended version on AO3 if I get enough interest in a continuation. 

Send me Batman/Batfamily prompts, headcanons and imagines!