12 Works by PinkParagram
Listing Works
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Summary
When her mom worked late, Alice made her own dinner using the microwave, and she did her homework the best she could, and she gave herself a bath, and she put herself to bed.
Before she went to bed, she would always turn the TV on so she could hear the noises through the wall. But it was never the same; the best part about hearing the TV at bedtime was knowing that Mom was there—that Alice wasn’t all by herself in the house.
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Chad doesn’t know how long they’ve been in the shipping container, but Robert’s starting to look bad.
The mask is gone, sitting in a heap next to Robert with the rest of his armor. He’s currently in just the flightsuit, which is unzipped and pooling around his waist.
Chad hadn’t looked directly at him since he peeled off the top of the suit earlier, too conscious of the way his mouth went dry as the sweaty, scarred skin of his chest and abdomen was revealed.
But he made himself look a few minutes ago, just to check up on him, and he’s been hard-pressed to tear his eyes away since—not because he’s horny, but because he’s fucking concerned.
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“I don’t fuck little boys,” Robert tells him sternly. “If you want this, you need to be a grown man and communicate.”
Flambae bristles and opens his mouth, but Robert talks right over him. “That being said, I realize there’s such a thing as leading by example. So for the next few minutes, I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.”
AKA
Robert’s back is feeling much better, and he has plans to take a certain pyrokinetic apart the way he deserves. Unfortunately, he has to impart a little lesson about communication first.
Series
- Part 5 of Hands On
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Before, he respected Robert as a hero and as a dispatcher, but that mission was what tipped him over into actually liking him as a person.
That’s also pretty much around the time he started to notice other things about Robert.
Like the freckles scattered across his cheeks in perfect formation, like a fucking American Girl Doll or some shit. Or the stupid dimples—little ones that only show up when he smirks or smiles or laughs.
Series
- Part 2 of Hands On
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“We have a young girl with fire powers currently torching a cemetery. Sending you the coordinates now.”
Flambae whistles. “Damn, a cemetery? What happened to dumpsters or abandoned buildings? That’s the shit I set on fire when I was a kid.”
“Sounds like it’s grief related,” Robert tells him, clicking through the details of the mission. “The caller said the flare up seemed unintentional, probably caused by strong emotions. She was attending her step-father’s funeral when the episode started.”
“Poor fucking kid,” Flambae murmurs, sobering.
Series
- Part 1 of Hands On
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He only really came out of it when Robert demanded he touch him. Which, fuck yeah, finally, but he was a little concerned about the timing. Of course, it turned out that Chad was just being a desperate pervert, because what Robert really meant was that he should use his hands to warm the muscles in his back.
The same hands that are currently simmering with barely restrained heat from the sickly surge of adrenaline Robert’s cry of pain gave him.
“Are you crazy?” he demands, feeling pretty fucking nuts himself as he imagines what he must look like, standing over a limp body and arguing with it.
AKA
Flambae's POV of Put Your Hands On Me
Series
- Part 4 of Hands On
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“Put your hands on me,” Robert commands, voice raspy with pain.
Flambae finally runs out of words, sputtering uselessly.
“Your hands,” Robert grinds out, gritting his teeth through another excruciating wave of spasms. “On me.”
“Bitch, now is not the time!” Flambae hisses. From his place on the floor, Robert can just barely make out the fierce flush spreading across the other man’s face.
Series
- Part 3 of Hands On
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Timothy Jackson Drake is almost four years old, and he knows a lot of things.
He knows how to read and write, and how to do simple math, and how to say “pleased to meet you” and “goodbye” and “thank you” and “may I use the bathroom” in French. He also knows how to introduce himself politely, and how to hold his knife and fork properly, and when it is okay to bother other people and when it isn’t.
AKA
Tim meets his new nanny for the summer, Miss Claire! The impact of this will be relatively small, I'm sure.
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He tried to act normal with B, but the truth is that knocking on Tim’s door after he cried in front of him is really hard, maybe the hardest thing he’s done in a while. He wants to explain what happened, but at the same time he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to tell Tim why he shut himself in his room and cried for an hour. He doesn’t want to tell him about Mary from The Secret Garden, and he doesn’t want to tell him about things that happened when Jason still lived with his parents.
AKA
a place to share various little scenes I had to leave out of Wayne Family (And Tim!) Christmas Extravaganza!
Series
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Wayne Family (And Tim!) Christmas Extravaganza! by PinkParagram
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types
25 Dec 2025
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Summary
Bruce’s brain takes a moment to reboot. “Your parents are in South America?”
“Yes.”
He’s not sure why he’s so surprised – the Drakes are known for their work in archeology, and not much of that can be done locally. Still, he assumed that they took Timothy with them when they left the country for work. It seems a shame to leave him with a nanny this close to Christmas.
“Okay,” he says, erasing the numbers typed into his phone. “What’s your nanny’s number, then?”
“My what?” Timothy looks scandalized.
“Your babysitter? Whoever is in charge of you while your parents are gone,” he clarifies.
“I’m in charge of me when my parents are gone,” Timothy says proudly, his little chest puffing out. “I’m the Man of the House.”
AKA
Tim gets to spend Christmas with the Waynes! This will not have lasting consequences, I'm sure.
Series
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Allison paused, something ominous settling in the bottom of her stomach. “You… don’t have a name?”
The girl’s brows furrowed in confusion. “How come you don’t know that? I thought… aren’t you like me?”
“Like you?” Allison echoed.
The girl gestured to Allison’s wrist, and she glanced down by habit even though she knew what she’d find: that stupid umbrella.
Allison choked on her next breath, startling the girl, but before she could ask any of the million questions clogging her throat, Diego’s heavy footsteps approached from behind.
“Hey,” Diego greeted. “I didn’t see her up there, but it’s almost lunch time so I’m sure she’ll be down in a…” He trailed off as he caught sight of Allison’s face. Whatever he saw there was enough to stop him in his tracks. Allison’s eyes were glued to the little wrist sitting on the table, covered with a too-big pajama sleeve.
She found her voice. “Diego-”
“Number Thirteen!” Mom’s voice rang out as she swept into the kitchen and straight to the girl, cupping her hands around the child’s small face. “It’s so good to see you again, darling!”
Allison’s face went cold, and her fingers started to tingle.
Series
- Part 2 of The Price We Pay
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Excerpts from the journal of Sir Reginald Hargreeves:
7/6/07
The inaugural class of Umbrella Academy has failed. 0.05 and 0.06 are no more, and 0.02 and 0.07 have abandoned the Academy entirely. 0.03 shows signs of imminent departure, and 0.04 is rarely possessed enough of his own mind to participate in missions. Only 0.01 remains steadfastly loyal. For the sake of this world, plans are underway for subsequent iterations of Umbrella Academy.
Series
- Part 1 of The Price We Pay