#Roy’s like WHY do you two even bother with gift wrap

[lunar-years]

My new headcanon is that Keeley wraps all her gifts for other people beautifully but then ends up unwrapping them herself as she’s giving it to them. Meanwhile Jamie over explains all of his gifts as he’s handing them over, before the person has even had a chance to unwrap it. Neither one can be stopped. Roy’s birthdays are a nightmare.

[justcourttee]

im not sure if youre taking asks but here goes: platonic jasonette, bc there isnt enough sibling jasonette in the world

We stan sibling Jasonette. It is literally my life as much as Daminette. Hope you like it! @sixtyeightdays

A Brother’s Love

If a year ago you had told Jason Todd that he would be smushed flat against the wall of a small coffee shop in Paris, France spying on his favorite designer’s first date, he would’ve laughed in your face. After all, nobody knew MDC’s secret identity and even if his jerk siblings found out, they wouldn't tell him anyway, just to torture him.

Yet somehow, he found himself in this exact situation, his anger rising with each passing minute that her date was late. He watched as Marinette picked up her phone for the hundredth time to check the time, check her messages, and sigh as she placed it face down once more, defeated. Part of him wanted to storm over to her table, scoop her up in the tightest hug and take her out for two scoops of ice cream from the best creamery in Paris.

But alas, if he even moved an inch, she would spot him and he’d never hear the end of him being an overprotective ass. The sound of her phone ringing caught his attention as he watched her fumble to try and answer.

“Hi! Yes, I’m at the coffee shop. - Have I been waiting long? No, no, not at all.”

Jason rolled his eyes. She was too kind for her own good. It was how she got into the Lila debacle. It was how she let her classmates walk all over her for too many years. It was why she was letting this Adrien kid treat her as a second rate now.

“The Louvre? I mean I guess I can close out here and meet you there.” There was a pause as her head dropped in disappointment.

Jason felt his blood boiling. Not only did this punk leave her waiting here for forty minutes without a signal message or call, but when he does decide to let her know he’s running late, he insists she comes to him? Jason didn’t care how well protected the model was, one way or another he deserved a black eye courtesy of Jason’s right fist.

He waited for Marinette to finish gathering her stuff. She laid a note onto the table, not bothering to ask for change, she never did, and exited the door, her face heavy. Laying a note of his own down, he raced after her, careful to keep a few hundred feet between them.

Jason felt as though he was beginning to break a sweat as he tried to keep up with her pace. As she turned down an alleyway, Jason broke into a sprint, trying not to lose her. As he turned the corner, a hand shot out toward his jacket, slamming him into the wall.

“I thought I told you my first date was off-limits.”

“Hi princess,” his voice was breathless as he tried to keep the pain from seeping in. “Just thought I’d stop in and say hi.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him before letting go, allowing him to readjust his jacket.

“Besides, doesn’t seem like much of a date. I haven’t seen the punk once.”

Her eyes seemed to blaze as they cut into his. Jason raised his hands in defense, but he refused to apologize. They seemed to be locked into a staredown, both standing in the alley, arms crossed, neither budging in their positions.

“He’s not a punk Jason, he just was running late on his photoshoot. They just finished up at the Louvre which is where he invited me to. We’re gonna walk the museum and try to find Andrè’s ice cream afterward.”

Her tone was so matter-of-fact, so confident that he wanted to believe her, but her eyes were broken. They seemed so tired as if she almost expected to be stood up at this point.

“Mari, I’ve been here a year now. This is the twelfth first date you and Adrien have attempted. Every month he gets your hopes up and every month something always comes up last minute. How do you know he really is at the Louvre?”

Her arms dropped as her hands curled into fists. Jason knew he hit a sensitive topic, but he couldn’t watch her break her own heart. Not again.

“He’ll be there. Now leave Jason, this doesn’t concern you.”

She turned on her heel, exiting the alleyway without another word.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jason huffed as he landed on the nearest roof with a view to the courtyard. Following on foot grew too hard as Marinette constantly kept looking back, checking to see if he was still there. Besides, she said it didn’t concern Jason but she said nothing about Red Hood.

He tapped the side of his helmet, enhancing the zoom, silently thanking Barbara a million times over. The courtyard was empty besides Marinette and a blonde boy sitting on a bench, neither looking particularly happy.

“Don’t fail me now helmet.”

Jason hesitantly reached up to tap the newest installment Barbara had insisted on; audio enhancement.

“-it’s just ridiculous Adrien! You can’t sit under her thumb forever!”

The boy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, trying to avoid direct eye contact with Marinette.

“Lila will turn my father on me Marinette, you have to understand. I really do like you and I would love to date you, but it’s a choice between you and freedom.”

For the third time that night, Jason felt his blood pressure rise from this punk kid. Before he realized what he was doing, the rush of air filled his ears as his grapple strained under the weight of him. His landing was rough as he tumbled less than ten feet from the bench, rolling to a stop right in front of the couple.

As he struggled to his feet, his eyes met Marinette’s. They were a mixture of anger and tears, fueling his rage.

“You.” His voice was menacing, all of his anger directed to the blonde sitting in front of him.

“Me?” Adrien seemed to shrink in on himself, his eyes widening as he took in the hero in front of him.

“You are a literal piece of scum. Do you understand what you’re losing here?”

“Hood, don’t-” Marinette tried to reach out, her voice begging, but he simply shrugged her off, grasping Adrien by the neck of his shirt.

“Marinette is an amazing girl. She’s absolutely brilliant, I mean have you seen her grades? They freaking fly off the charts. If you all had a GPA system, she would knock all of you out of the ballpark with no chance of recovery. Marinette is so talented. Her designs have so much potential to run an empire in the future. She already has multiple big-name clients and I know she’ll only expand from there.”

Adrien tried to object, but Jason didn’t give him the chance. His grip tightened as he lifted Adrien from the bench, his tiptoes barely scraping the courtyard stones.

“Marinette is daring, courageous, compassionate, and way too caring for her own good. None of you deserve her. Paris doesn’t deserve her.”

He felt two small hands wrap around his arm, attempting to pull him off of the boy but to no avail.

“Marinette do something! Tell your friend to stand down.”

Adrien struggled under the man’s grasp, his wild eyes begging the girl.

“You little punk, face me yourself. After tonight, you don’t have Marinette to hide behind anymore. If I even see you in a twenty-foot radius of her, you’re dead. Got it, kid?”

He dropped the blonde, watching as he stumbled backward before taking off into a sprint, never looking back.

Jason wanted to chase after him, finish teaching him a lesson, but the sound of soft sniffles from behind him required his immediate attention. His arms automatically pulled her into his chest, the sniffles muffled by his suit.

“Don’t worry Marinette, he’s never gonna hurt you again.”

She didn’t answer him as her sniffles slowly died out, her arms tightening around Jason’s waist.

“C’mon.” He slowly pulled back using his gloved hand to wipe a stray tear from her face. “Let’s go get some ice cream.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jason accepted his cone from André, attempting to hand the man a tip, but he simply blocked Jason, shaking his hand.

“Anything for Marinette. I could feel her broken heart before she even arrived. A girl like her doesn’t deserve to be so broken.”

Jason sighed in agreement as he returned to the bench she sat on, handing her one of the cones.

“Thanks, Jason. I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier, I just really wanted to believe that Adrien would come through. That our love could outweigh any obstacle this world throws at us.”

“Princess, did I ever tell you the reason I came to Paris in the first place?”

Marinette shook her head as she took a timid bite from her cone.

“My brother’s had a competition with each other to see who could discover the identity of my favorite designer, MDC. It took a couple months, but low and behold, August 16th comes around and my youngest brother handed me a wrapped folder that contained a plane ticket for Paris and your parent’s address. He said it was my birthday gift and it was scheduled to leave in the morning.”

“You came all the way to Paris, from Gotham City, to meet me?”

Jason nodded, taking a bite from his cone as well, throwing an arm over Marinette's shoulders.

“I was never expecting a small child of only seventeen years to be my all-time favorite person in the world. I mean your leather jackets can hold through a lot of trauma, trust me, Roy and I tried.”

Marinette giggled, her face slowly relaxing into one of peace.

“If Adrien can’t see how amazing you are, amazing enough for some guy to fly half-way across the world to meet you, then I’m sorry but I don’t think he really loves you.”

“Did you mean every word you said to Adrien?”

Jason looked over at the smaller girl, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Every last one.”

Marinette nodded, a small ‘cool’ barely audible escaping from her lips. They sat in silence for a few moments before Marinette spoke again.

“I’m over Adrien Agreste. For good this time.”

“Finally.” Jason pumped his fist in the air earning another giggle from her.

As they finished up their cones, Jason helped her to her feet, a sly smile crossing his face.

“You know, you graduate in a couple months. Maybe you can come back to Gotham with me, meet my other family. I’m sure they’ll love you as much as I do.”

“Maybe I can meet that little brother of yours. After all, anyone who can figure out my well-guarded secret sounds like a very intelligent person.”

Jason laughed, his mind tracing back to the image of Damian with a pot stuck on his head after pissing off Dick’s former teammate Raven.

“I don’t know about intelligence, but I would say he’s extremely devoted to the people he cares for.”

Marinette saw the wheels turning in Jason’s head as she tried to form a no before he could blurt out what she thought he was thinking.

“You two would be so great together! Oh God, I sound like circus boy. Anyways, it’s settled. As your honorary brother and full-time wingman, I am setting you up with Damian Wayne.”

Jason dipped down, snatched her phone off the bench, and took off in a sprint.

“Jason! JasoN I DON’T HAVE INTERNATIONAL DATA!”

The streets filled with the sounds of their laughter as both took off into the night, a bright future lying ahead, neither looking back on the events of the night.

After all, ice cream mends most broken hearts, but nothing fixes you quite like a brother’s love.

Permanent Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ash-amg @rebecarojas07

[sohotthateveryonedied]

We Dream in the Dark, for the Most Part

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Jason is in the middle of lathering his hair with shampoo when suddenly the lights go out, leaving him in darkness. An instinctive chill runs down his spine, only to be replaced with annoyance. Of course. Beyond the shower spray, he can hear Lian shriek in fear, followed by Roy muttering curses.

Jason sighs. “Roy?” he calls.

“Handling it!”

It was a grueling patrol, but Jason is relieved to be home. He missed having Roy by his side tonight, but their usual babysitter, Mrs. Peterson from next door, came down with pneumonia yesterday and canceled. She doesn’t seem to have any idea that her neighbors are vigilantes, but they pay her enough that she doesn’t ask. Lian is coloring at the coffee table while Jason toes off his boots, leaving them at the front door. She’s wearing her fluffy Stitch pajamas, which she’s been practically living in for the last week and a half. “Hey, princess.” Jason drops a kiss on top of her head as he passes. “Where’s your dad?” “In the kitchen. He’s playing with the electricity again.” “Oh, good. Because, you know, I was actually hoping our place would explode, just to spice things up.” Lian giggles. “Has he fed you yet?” She shakes her head, her black pigtails swinging back and forth. “Nope. But he promised me special sushi if I cleaned up all my books.” Jason will never understand Lian’s passion for her “special sushi,” which is just deli ham slathered in strawberry yogurt and rolled up like a spring roll from hell. Jason gets nauseated just thinking about it, but the kid loves the stuff. “And did you clean up?” Lian points over at the bookshelf against the wall. They don’t have a huge apartment by any means, but Jason insisted on dedicating an entire wall to his books. That was one of the conditions when Roy first asked Jason to move in with him and Lian. It took weeks of finagling to convince Jason to relinquish a small section of the bookshelf for Lian’s picture books, which are indeed all in their right places. “Then it looks like you’ve earned your sushi, little miss. I’m gonna shower first and then I’ll make it for you, alright?” “I can make it by myself.” Jason snorts. “After what happened last time? I don’t think so.” It was his own fault for thinking a five-year-old could prepare her own food. It took a solid hour to scrub the yogurt stains out of the carpet. Jason pokes his head in the kitchen on his way to the bathroom. “Tell me you’re not burning the building down.” “Okay, then I’m not burning the building down,” Roy says around the screwdriver trapped between his teeth. He stands in front of what was once a light switch, tinkering with something that he most definitely should not be tinkering with, but Jason is picking his battles today.

“I’m not going to bother telling you that you’re on your second strike with the landlord. If he has to come up here again, I’m not defending you.” “You know what I miss? The old days when people would greet each other by saying things like, ‘hi, sweetie, how was your day?’ ‘Oh, it was lovely, darling. How about a kiss after spending hours apart and missing each other dearly?’ ‘Babe, it’s like you read my mind!’ You know, stuff like that?” Jason arches an eyebrow. “I’ve got mobster blood caked in my hair. Still want a hello kiss?” “Not really, no. Go shower.” “Try not to blow a fuse in the meantime, please.” Roy salutes with his screwdriver. “Aye, aye, captain.” Jason goes to the bathroom and relishes in the feeling of peeling off his armor and the bodysuit underneath, every layer soaked with sweat and blood. It’s a good thing his Red Hood getup is all dark colors, or he’d have scarred Lian for life ten times over already. He turns the shower knob as hot as it’ll go, letting his muscles slowly unravel under the spray. He takes his time scrubbing off the blood and dirt, whistling some shitty pop song that Dick paid Barbara to blast through the comms all. Night. Long. Jason has plans to add that to his repertoire of torture techniques if he ever needs some extra edge. It’s definitely effective. Jason is in the middle of lathering his hair with shampoo when suddenly the lights go out, leaving him in darkness. An instinctive chill runs down his spine, only to be replaced with annoyance. Of course. Beyond the shower spray, he can hear Lian shriek in fear, followed by Roy muttering curses. Jason sighs. “Roy?” he calls. “Handling it!” Another sigh. This is what he gets for leaving Roy alone. It’s Jason’s own fault, really. He quickly rinses the shampoo from his hair and leaves the bathroom, and towel wrapped around his waist. He navigates the pitch black apartment and finds Roy lighting a match in the kitchen. He’s got Lian tucked in one arm. “What did I say?” Jason asks. “I know, I know—” “I said not to blow a fuse. That was your one job.” “Technically, I didn’t blow a fuse. I just overloaded the circuit and cut off the electricity for the whole building.” Jason smacks himself in the forehead. “Wonderful.” Remind him again why he’s in love with this man? “I’m sure it’ll be fixed in no time.” “You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes.” “You’re overreacting. It’s just a little blackout.” “We have ice cream in the freezer.” “I’ll buy more.” Jason runs a hand through his wet hair. “You’re killing me, babe. Again.” “It’s just one night without power, right? I’m sure it’ll come back on in the morning.” He bounces Lian a little, who’s got her face buried in Roy’s neck. Poor thing is terrified of the dark. “What do you think, pumpkin? You think you can be brave for one little night in the dark?” “I don’t like it. It’s scary.” “I know it is, sweetheart. But do you want to know a secret?” He leans in close to her ear, mock-whispering, “Jaybird over here is afraid of the dark too.” Lian looks at Jason with wide eyes. “Really?” Roy nods. “Yep. But you know what? He’s so brave and strong that he overcame that fear and now it hardly bothers him anymore. Do you think you can be brave like that?” “I can be super brave.” “That’s my girl. Not, sit here for a minute, ‘kay?” He sets her down on the arm of the sofa. The match has fizzled out by now, leaving them in complete darkness. “I know I have some scented candles around here somewhere. Dinah keeps getting them as gifts and pushes them on me when she doesn’t like them.” Jason’s eyes widen. “Wait, watch out for the—” Roy trips with a shout, glass shattering as he falls. “—coffee table.” Roy just groans in response. “Hang on, let me get a light.” Jason makes his way to the drawer they keep the emergency flashlight in. He turns on the beam to show Roy on the floor, surrounded by glass shards and clutching his leg. There are several small cuts peppering his knee like he crawled on a beach made of broken bottles. Jason gasps. “Oh my god, Roy! You broke Lian’s crayons!” Roy flips him off, angling his hand so Lian can’t see. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Jason helps him up and hands him the flashlight. “Lian, honey, will you help him get to the couch? I need to put some clothes on.” And he’s almost positive there’s another flashlight somewhere in Roy’s nightstand. They’re going to need all the light they can get. Jason gets dressed and retrieves the flashlight, plus one of Lian’s Disney princess glow sticks. When he returns, Roy is on the couch with his leg propped up on what remains of their coffee table. Lian is shining the flashlight on her tiny first-aid kit which Kori gave her last Christmas. She sifts through her collection of band-aids. “One to ten?” “Barely a two,” Roy says. “I already dug the glass out, and none were deep enough to need stitches.” Jason checks him over anyway, just to be sure. He wipes away the blood and applies some ointment over the cuts. He turns to Lian when he’s finished. “Can I trust you to finish this up while I make dinner?” She nods enthusiastically. Perfect. Lian can keep herself busy plastering Roy in Hello Kitty bandages, and Jason will have time to figure out what the hell they’re doing, food-wise. “How do you expect to make dinner without electricity?” Roy asks, reading his mind yet again. “What, did you never have to eat cold leftover pizza in your million-dollar mansion growing up? Weird.” He dodges the pillow Roy throws his way, laughing. “Those jokes don’t count when you also grew up in a million-dollar mansion.” Thirty minutes later and the three of them are sitting on the couch, Roy and Jason eating cold mushroom casserole while Lian enjoys her ham and yogurt. Once you get over the temperature difference, cold casserole turns out to be just as tasty as hot casserole. Gordon Ramsey should take notes. Jason managed to track down the candles Roy was talking about earlier and set them in various places around the living room, lighting the room in a dim glow. It’s not perfect lighting by any means—not even good lighting, really, but at least no one will be falling into another coffee table anytime soon. Roy’s knee is covered in Hello Kitty band-aids, some of which are in spots that weren’t even cut up by the glass. Roy doesn’t seem to mind. Jason took a picture for potential blackmail reasons. “I’m bored,” Lian says after a while. “You could always go to bed,” Roy suggests, “given that your bedtime was fifteen minutes ago but your daddies are nice enough to let you stay up this long.” “That was nice of us,” Jason agrees. “I think we’ve earned a quiet night to ourselves.” Lian pouts. She grabs Jason’s arm, clinging to his bicep like a koala. “But it’s dark in my room.” “It’s dark in there every night.” “It’s really dark tonight. Can I stay here with you instead?” Her eyes are big and innocent, perfectly disguising the mischief lurking within. This girl could be a successful con artist one day. (Not that Jason or Roy will ever let that happen. She’s going to grow up and become a veterinarian or something equally harmless.) Roy and Jason meet eyes, having a silent conversation over Lian’s head. Finally, Roy sighs. “Fine. You can stay up with us a little longer, but only because of the blackout, okay? Don’t go thinking that this trick is going to work tomorrow night.” Lian claps her hands, bouncing in her seat. “Can I have coffee?” “Absolutely not.” She isn’t deterred in the slightest. “This is gonna be so fun! We can stay up all night long, even past midnight and three o’clock which is when the ghosts come out.” “Ghosts, huh?” Jason says. “Yeah, Aunt Stephanie told me all about it! Three o’clock is when the witching hour happens and witches and ghosts come out like Bloody Mary and Freddie Cougar and they call come into your house and walk around but you can only see them if you’re awake, which I’m gonna be because I’m not even tired, I could stay up all night long and for a million, bazillion years, and—” She lasts seven minutes. Lian is fast asleep now with her head in Roy’s lap, her tiny feet dangling off the arm of the sofa. Jason drapes a blanket over her, kissing her on the forehead. He’s careful not to jostle Roy’s bandaged leg as he takes a seat beside him, putting his arm around Roy’s shoulders. “Well, I’m fucking exhausted.” “It’s cool if you want to go to bed,” Roy says. “I don’t mind sticking around here with Lian until the power comes back on.” “Nah, it’s fine. I like it better in here, anyway.” In here, where the light is. Roy doesn’t comment on the hidden meaning that he definitely catches on to, and Jason loves him for it. He just kisses Jason’s cheek, settling against his side. Jason doesn’t mention the darkness thing often. Or at all. After all, grown men don’t get scared of the dark—especially when they live in a place like Gotham and were raised in a literal cave. But if Lian insists on having the hallway light on in addition to the night light next to her bed, then Jason isn’t about to discourage her. Roy never says a word about it. Every night he keeps the door to his and Jason’s bedroom cracked open just enough so a sliver of hallway light floods in, and it’s good for both of them, really. Jason feels safer with the light on, and they both feel safer being able to hear every creak and draft in the apartment, falling asleep knowing that nothing will sneak up on them. Even when Jason was living on his own, post-resurrection, he always kept a lamp on when he went to sleep in whichever safehouse he was squatting in that night. Back before he had a place to call home. On especially bad nights, he would turn on the lights in every single room, even the one in the microwave. Only then could he sleep soundly. He can’t exactly do that now, but he doesn’t need to. Whenever his head gets too heavy to bear, he’ll simply wrap his arms around Roy and fall back asleep to the sound of Roy’s heart beating under his ear. He falls back asleep in minutes. Jason isn’t entirely sure what caused the light issue in the first place. Sometimes he can’t remember if it arose before or after he was adopted by Bruce. Other times he’s sure it’s lingering trauma from the coffin, from waking up in pitch blackness six feet underground. No bearings, no sense of what was happening or where he was. The only thing in there with him was the thick, cloying darkness on every side of him. Jason shivers just thinking about it. “We should get her a new night light,” he says. “Battery powered, not a plug-in. It would be a good investment if you ever try destroying our electricity again.” Roy hums. “We can pick one up tomorrow. I need to take her clothes shopping anyway. And it might be a good idea to have a couple for the living room and bathroom so we don’t have a repeat of tonight.” “Good idea.” God, Jason’s craving a cigarette right now. Every nerve in his body urges him to get one and soothe the anxiety buzzing in his brain, but he has a rule against smoking in the apartment or anywhere near Lian. He’d settle for a beer instead, whatever keeps the buzzing at bay, but he doesn’t drink at home either out of respect for Roy’s sobriety. He’s stuck. Roy must notice Jason’s twitching fingers because he reaches into his pocket, careful not to wake Lian as he pulls out a stick of nicotine gum. “Here.” Jason unwraps the gum and shoves it in his mouth. He takes a deep breath in as he chews, letting it out slowly. It takes the edge off some, but not completely. Still, it’s better than nothing. “You’re just carrying these on you now?” "Came in handy, didn't it?" “And I thought Bruce was the king of being prepared for everything.” Jason straightens the wrapper until it’s flat like a card. He holds it over the nearest candle until it catches, watching the flame consume the paper, eating away at its edges. He blows it out just before it gets too close to his fingers. “When I was a kid,” he says after a minute, “my mom and I used to light candles like these. The heat would get turned off pretty often since she was usually too high to remember what day it was, let alone when the bills needed to be paid. But whenever it happened, she would send me to the store with a couple dollars and I’d buy a bag of marshmallows. We’d roast them over the candles and pretend we were camping.” “That sounds nice.” “It was. I mean, now I realize that it’s actually really fucking sad that we had to resort to candles ‘cause my mom wasted all her cash on drugs and couldn’t pay the heating bill. But at the time, it was nice. It’s one of the few good memories I have of that time.” He feels more than sees Roy’s fingers lacing through his own, clasping their hands together. “I was telling the truth earlier, you know. You’re brave and strong and badass all the way.” Jason snorts. “Even if I get freaked out every time the lights go out?” Roy doesn’t laugh with him. “Yeah, even then. And you know why?” He rests his head on Jason’s shoulder, lets Jason feel his warmth. “Because of all the things to be afraid of, you picked the one that can be fixed by just turning the lights on. Once you do that, there’s nothing left in the world that can scare you. And that’s pretty damn badass if you ask me.”

[fullmetalscullyy]

day 20 - fireplace

24 days - 24 oneshots | a collection of christmas themed oneshots to celebrate royai | prompt list can be found here

read on ao3

rated: g | words: 1719

“Do you have a stocking?”

Riza removed her head from being buried inside her book. She regarded the young alchemist, completely puzzled. Why was he asking her about what she wore underneath her trousers to keep her legs warm in the winter?

“A stocking?”

“Yeah,” Roy replied, not picking up on her confused tone.

“What do you need one for?”

“It’s – No reason,” he hurriedly deflected. His gaze averted from hers quickly.

“What –?”

“Do you have one?” He asked again, just wanting her to answer yes or no.

But why would he want just one? It was a very strange question, Riza thought.

“I mean… Typically I wear two at the one time. I think everyone does.”

“Wear,” Roy echoed, looking at her as if she’d grown two heads.

“Well… Yes,” Riza answered, just as baffled as he was. “What else do you use them for?”

“You hang them on the fireplace,” he explained.

“Hang them on it? But they’ll rip. The material is only thin.”

His expression grew even more incredulous which led Riza to believe something may have been lost in translation along the way…

“I don’t know why they’d be hung on the fireplace, other than hanging them near it for them to dry more quickly,” she continued. “Or, to heat them up before wearing them outside if it was a particularly cold day.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Roy lifted his hands and waved them in front of him hurriedly. “What are you talking about?”

“I wear stockings outside in the cold,” she explained. “I would maybe hang them by the fire to provide some extra warmth before going out but wouldn’t keep them there or pin them to it. They’d rip. What are you talking about?”

“Christmas stockings!”

Riza blinked at him. “Are they adorned with a particularly festive pattern?”

“What?” He was exasperated now and looking at her like she’d really lost it.

“I don’t know!” Riza huffed defensively. She half turned away from him, shooting him a glare out the side of her eye. Embarrassment coloured her cheeks the longer he stared at her with disbelief.

Realisation dawned on Roy’s face and he let out an elongated “oh”.

“No! No, not winter stockings like we were outside in the snow!” He scrambled to correct himself, realising where he’d gone wrong with his wording. “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t clear enough. I was talking about a Christmas stocking. It’s what we put little gifts into from Santa,” he explained further. “They’re hung up on at the fireplace because he’ll come down the chimney and fill the stocking up before he leaves.”

Riza’s shoulders slowly relaxed, peeling away from her ears. “A Christmas stocking?”

Roy nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I sometimes get some fruit. Or a little toy. Probably two or three of them. Aunt Chris always tells us that if we’re bad they’ll be filled with coal,” he whispered conspiratorially. “I’ve never had coal though.” He beamed with pride.

“Oh.”

“So, do you have one?”

Riza shook her head. “I don’t.”

The excitement slowly died down on Roy’s face. “You… You don’t have one?”

“We don’t really celebrate it,” Riza replied. Her tone was subdued but steady as she spoke.

She never remembered celebrating it and couldn’t understand why a sadness would wash over her whenever she went into town and saw all the other children her age incredibly excited as they clutched at their gifts.

Roy fell silent and contemplative. He stared down at his lap with a crease in between his eyebrows.

Riza watched warily, wondering what he was thinking.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not really a big deal.”

“Okay…”

He was too casual and brushed it off too easily after seeing his excitement while explaining the tradition to her initially. Riza thought it was rather suspicious.

He grinned at her and went back to studying his alchemy books without another word.

Too baffled by his reply, Riza kept her mouth closed and continued on with her chores.

She expected nothing from the holiday and knew she would receive nothing, so Roy’s comment didn’t really bother her. It only left her perplexed as to where the thought had suddenly stemmed from.

Deep down inside, in a compartment that was almost too dark for Riza to see into, there was a tiny sliver of hope. Memories of seeing her school peer’s faces light up when their parents bought them gifts in town filled Riza’s mind. Just once… Just one time, Riza would like to experience a joy like that. To have someone think of her and buy a gift for her out the goodness of their heart.

But she knew that would never happen. Riza quickly squashed that tiny piece of hope, feeling foolish for ever thinking such a thing.

*          *          *

It was the day Roy was due to leave for the train station that he came barrelling into the living room. Father was working in his study and Riza was working on patching up some of her old clothes. The trousers she was working on had holes in them at the knees from her gardening, so she was currently working on applying patches to them. They would be mismatched but they were only worn for seeding vegetables and tending to the tiny number of flowers that still clung desperately to the soil in Mother’s old garden.

“Hey.” Roy’s face was flushed as he skidded to a halt in the doorway. His hair was mussed up, dishevelled, and he was breathing heavily.

“What’s wrong?” Riza was instantly alert. Her clothes were shoved to the side and she rose to stand.

“Nothing,” he reassured with a shake of his head. Roy smiled at her, a small one, but it was completely genuine. “Come with me.”

“Why?”

“Please,” he pleaded. “I don’t have much time before I have to leave, and I just finished getting your surprise ready.”

“Surprise?” She stared at Roy, wondering if she’d misheard him.

“Yes, surprise!” he beamed. “Come on!”

Once Riza was close enough, Roy grasped her wrist loosely in his hand and tugged her gently towards the stairs.

She jerked her hand away and it made Roy falter. There was a beat of silence as he looked back at her, surprised by her sudden rebuttal of his touch.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she dismissed, resisting the urge to rub at her wrist. It didn’t hurt, but the action had startled her. She initially didn’t like it but… His hand had been warm, and his touch had been gentle. It wasn’t rough and he didn’t pull so hard he tripped her up. He just wanted to move along with her. He wasn’t harsh of uncaring. He was calm and encouraging.

“Okay.” He glanced down at her twitching hand then back up at her face. “Sorry, I didn’t – I’m sorry for grabbing you. If you didn’t like it,” he added, suddenly looking fearful and ashamed.

“Oh. It’s okay –” Riza stuttered, trying to ignore the reminder of his warm hand encompassing her wrist, pulling her along with him so they could walk side by side. Her cheeks turned pink and she became mortified by her knee jerk reaction to recoil from him.

“Riza?” His voice was soft as he called to her, a hint of a smile on his lips. He jerked his head towards the stairs. “I have something to show you,” he tried again. “A surprise. Would you like to come with me?”

Riza nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Awesome,” he grinned. He climbed one step before turning around to wait for her to catch up. He set the pace but ensured they remained side by side as they ascended the staircase.

Her surprise was in her bedroom. Riza was confused immediately as he gestured for her to grasp the handle to her own room.

“What –?”

“Go inside and look,” he urged without further explanation. She was sure the smile on his face may split it in two. He looked extremely proud of himself.

She glanced around but her eyes came to settle upon the ancient, unused fireplace in her bedroom. Something was pinned into the wood. Something red and white.

A Christmas stocking, just like she’d seen in town weeks ago.

“What –” She blinked at it, wondering what that was doing in her bedroom –

“Here.”

He lightly tapped her elbow before walking further into the room. He approached the hearth and stopped, removing the stocking from it’s pin. Extending his arm, Roy held it out to Riza for her to take.

She was too surprised to move.

“It’s for you,” he added, seeing that she was still unmoving. “It’s your stocking, Riza! Look.”

On the side of it, near where the toes would sit in a normal stocking, was her name. It was embroidered in gold thread. Tears threatened to spring to her eyes, but she was still too shocked to let them fester.

Roy lifted her arms slowly and gently and pressed it into her hands. It left Riza no choice but to take a hold of it. And it was heavy. It was bulging in places. Looking down at the top she could see a box crudely wrapped in brown paper. There was more buried underneath, and it felt like there were quite a few.

“No opening them until Christmas Day though,” he teased, lifting a finger to waggle it in her direction.

“This…” Riza swallowed the lump in her throat.

Just once… Just one time, Riza would like to experience a joy like that. To have someone think of her and buy a gift for her out the goodness of their heart.

“Merry Christmas,” he winked.

“Roy –” She wanted to protest. This was too much for him to give her. He’d spent his own money on her. She couldn’t accept it.

“Think nothing of it,” he assured, trying to placate her. “Aunt Chris sent over the stocking and some of the goodies. I picked up a few in town. Can’t have Christmas without a stocking filled with gifts now, can we?” He flashed another smile at her.

“I…” Riza didn’t know how to respond.

“Hope you enjoy them.” He lifted his eyebrows playfully.

“Thank you,” she breathed, trying to rid her eyes of the tears forming in them.

[choco-glow]

Fall Like Rain On Sunday, Pt. 9

“Asshole cop.” Jason grumbled as they walked back towards the truck, and Steph giggled wildly, her lipstick only just cleaned up from the wipes she kept in her bag, eyes dancing as they made their way through the crowded Saturday night boardwalk, said asshole cop glaring behind them. Sure, they maybe got a little too into making out on the bench, but Jason had been so thrilled by her reference, and Steph was just…absolutely in love with Jason. So. Y’know. One thing led to another and Jason’s hand had crept up her skirt while she’d straddled his lap…

And then Officer O’Grady had blown his whistle. Right in their ears.

“I agree…sorry he got your bad side…” Jason shot her a grateful smile, and she kissed his cheek softly, all sympathy. The explosion when he was fifteen had ruptured his eardrum, and high-pitched sounds bothered the hell out of him on his left side still, which was why his helmet had specialized protective ear guards, and he wore sound-reducing plugs with his domino. It…was perhaps one of the few things that Bruce and Jason had bonded over; Bruce used similar ones for his own cowl, and had adapted Jason’s with regard to the minor hearing loss.

“Eh…At least it didn’t make my tinnitus start up. All he had to do was cough or somethin’…” Steph agreed, and rubbed his back soothingly, smiling as Jason squeezed her shoulder and kissed her temple. As much as she’d liked the idea of the Ferris Wheel…O’Grady was following, she could sense his eyes on her ass, and evidently, so could Jason; he raised his free arm to flip the cop off and hugged her a little closer, arm sliding down to wrap around her waist. Not to grope her, not that Steph would have minded…but she smiled, snuggling in close anyway. It was possessive without making her the possession.

Makes Dean look like the pervert he was. Creep. And Jason and I are what…three years apart? She made a few mental calculations and nodded to herself, satisfied; they were right at three years and two months apart, and while she and Tim were the same age…she had more in common with Jay. More shared life experience, too…

“Babe? You okay there? You look like you’re a million miles away…” Jason murmured, pausing at the entrance to the carpark, and Steph shook herself, smiling up at him.

“Yeah…sorry, was just…thinking about things.”

“…Good things? Bad things?”

“A little bad, then a little good. I promise, I’m okay…just…maybe more tired than I realized.” She winced at that, but Jason just chuckled, warm and sweet.

“I don’t doubt it, we were both up early. As fun as the bench was…how about we head back and get some rest, hmm?”

“Yes please…Um…do…you mind if I ask you to take me home?” His eyes softened at that, dark green with the night, and he kissed her softly, guiding her back over the gravel with care.

“Not at all, sweetheart; besides, I don’t put out on the first date.” Steph burst into giggles at that, and Jason snickered, helping her back up into the truck. He hopped over the hood, every inch the reckless Bat-boy, which made Steph break into more giggles. Joining her in the cab, he swooped in for a kiss that Steph gladly gave, and carefully got them out of the parking space, bitching a little about idiot tourists and shitty drivers as he made his way to the road again. “Goddamn fuckin’ cop could be over here clearing this mess out…”

“At least Penguin’s men have it well-lit again; the city didn’t do shit about that.” Steph growled out, suddenly feeling far more charitable to Cobblepot and his crew. Whatever else Oswald might have once been, fatherhood seemed to have mellowed him immensely, and his mostly-legit wealth was going into things like lighting the Mile, same with Bruce; hell, Bruce had even sent baby gifts, both has Wayne and Batman, since Cobblepot had largely dropped out of the Rogues’ with the birth of his daughter.

“Yeah, I think B thanked him for it the other day, Barb was shocked on the comms because they actually had a polite conversation; he asked about Robin, B asked about Tracey and little Eugenie.”

“Awwwww…I’ll get a purple penguin for her when I go out on patrol tomorrow.” Jason chuckled at that, and Steph relaxed into his shoulder, fine with taking the back roads home to her apartment. Here too, the little improvements had made things better for everyone, not just the wealthy Gothamites; lights brightened the once gloomy alleys, and people, feeling safer, had begun cleaning them up. Dumpsters had been moved to the backs of the buildings, and play areas built, full of beat up toys. Old sawhorses and a few semi-straight boards sporting carefully repaired flowerpots full of cheap herbs and little flowers leaned against the brownstones, painted bright with cheap acrylic and leftover housepaint.

Graffiti artists, once the bane of the neighborhoods, had been given purpose and permission to express themselves via the Wayne Urban Art grants, and now murals of every color covered the once ugly cement walls. Meanwhile the old abandoned lots, once ignored by the city, had been bought up by Wayne Industries and given to the neighborhoods as small leisure areas, with young saplings and soft grass and little free gardens, tended carefully by gardeners hired by Bruce himself.

Crime still ran rampant, of course; hell, that’s why they still had patrols.

But more and more, that crime was white-collar or supervillain; the average Joe was happy to have a good job again, and a place to call home that wasn’t covered in trash and grime. Petty criminals with a family to feed or a dangerous addiction had more avenues for help now, with flyers on every corner, and kind counselors available night and day. And the only requirement was only “if you know someone else who needs us, please bring them here.” Steph approved of that, as did Jason, and Bruce had only smiled and said “I thought of you two when we set that up.” Highest compliment he’s ever given us, I think…it…it really has made a difference. Just in my life alone…

Crystal Brown had been among the first he’d welcomed to the program, and Steph had broken down crying on Bruce’s shoulder the day her mom had come home clean. Really clean now; whatever else might have happened between them, Steph was just glad to have her mom back…and Jason had had much the same reaction, so Alfred had told her, when Roy’d gone through it too. Roy was Jay’s best friend in the whole world…she smiled a little. I’d almost be jealous, but…Cass is my best friend. And if Cass swung that way, I’d have dated her in a heartbeat, I think…I’m not mad that he and Roy were a pair. I’m just glad they’re still friends.

“Gotta say, B’s really made home feel a lot less gentrified, and more…”

“Alive.” She murmured, and Jason nodded, his voice a little tight as he pulled into her apartment’s lot.

“…I was worried, when he started this, that it’d be the Bowery all over again.” He murmured, and she squeezed his arm, taking a deep breath.

“Me too, if we’re being honest here. But…it’s not. It’s not. It’s…what we would have wanted. Hell, he even retrofitted the Starlight with green tech so that the Narrows’ best babysitter didn’t have to close down.” He laughed, soft and sweet, and kissed her forehead.

“Tell me about it, I begged him to bankroll it when I was a kid because…well, it’s the last original roller rink on the East Coast. I couldn’t bear to see it torn down. I think he started doing it after I died…kinda sweet, to be honest.”

“That’s what I would have done…Ooh. We should go skating next time.” Steph mused, and Jason’s answer was in a hot, sweet kiss, his eyes dancing in the streetlights.

“It’s a date. C’mon, I’ll walk you to your door?” He suggested, offering his hand, and Steph let him pull her out, heart as light as a feather. He was easy to lean into, not handsy in the slightest, big hands rubbing up and down her back, and already, Steph was boneless against his chest, drowsing as they rode the elevator back up. Their hands clasped, Steph swung them a little as they pulled apart, yawning widely as the elevator stopped and she could lead him back down to her apartment door, pulling out her key.

“Mmn…thank you. I love you…and I hope this is still okay?” She murmured, hopeful and more than a little nervous. Jason kissed her again, then once more, and bussed her nose with his own, the smile on his lips as clear a confirmation as the words…but she liked hearing him anyway.

“I love you too, babe, and this is so okay. Get some rest, alrighty? Tim took our patrol tonight, B sent me an apology text earlier, so we’re good till tomorrow.”

“Good. Bastard should know better than to get between me and waffles.” The roguish grin on Jason’s face made her grin back, and he stroked her hair back over her ear again, something she never let Dean or Tim do, because it felt…weird with them. It felt right with Jay.

“Goddamn right, Blondie. Sleep tight, babe, can I bring you waffles in the morning, or are you waffled out?”

“Jay, if you bring me waffles in the morning, I’ll put out, alright? Waffles are life.” She retorted, and he fell back with a snicker, shaking his head as he kissed her.

“Well hell, if it’s really that easy, babe…” She swatted his arm, still grinning, and he kissed her once more, leaning into her doorway in a gesture that should have felt intimidating…but like before, well…it was Jay. It felt right. Steph kissed him back, sighing softly, and he pulled back to kiss her in the center of her forehead. “Head to bed, babe, I’m not far off. If you need anything, call me, okay?”

“Mmn, sounds good…are you really gonna bring me waffles?” She replied, hopeful, and he grinned again, his smile as addictive as his kisses.

“Goddamn right I will, babe. What time works?”

“Probably eight, at least? I need to get up early, do housework, do homework…” She made a face, and he made a face with her.

“Ugh. Well, I can help with the former, and as for the latter, I can be a quiet boyfriend and clean my guns?”

“Deal…See you then?” Steph wanted to crash, she really did, she was yawning so much now…but she didn’t want him to go…

“See you then. Goodnight, Stephie.” He murmured, kissing her once more, then closed the door for her. She leaned against it, listening to him slip down the stairs, and smiled, stepping out of her sandals with a groan of relief (they were cute, but she was tired enough for them to start hurting finally), and made quick work of taking off the rest of her make up, hanging up her dress, changing into comfy undies and a huge tee shirt. Taking down her hair, she glanced over at her phone…and grinned to see his number light up on the screen. She swiped to answer, and leaned back against the pillows.

“Miss me already, handsome?” He chuckled, warm and low, and it didn’t matter that she’d been hearing it all night; she could hear it a million times, and never get tired of it.

“You know it, baby. Figured you’d probably have trouble getting to sleep, as tired as you were, so…I thought maybe I could read to you?” He sounded so hopeful over the line, and Steph’s breath hitched in her chest. Oh…

“…I’d really, really like that. What did you have in mind?” She could see his grin as she closed her eyes, and heard the soft sound of pages turning, the faintest creak of an old book opening.

“Well, I always loved Pride and Prejudice…”

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

Three AM, Aching and Tender

A Jason Todd x reader oneshot

the title is a bit fucked, but my inspiration ran out, so here we are

warnings for a character getting triggered, and also SMUT

*edited because I added a tag and tumblr decided that meant it could delete the whole fucking post

***

Jason aches.

Aches. All over, everywhere. He aches, and he’s so, so tired. Standing in the dark hallway in front of his apartment door, he can almost feel the exhaustion enveloping him, a physical wave threatening to pull him under as he fights for lucidity. He’s got the achy sort of tired that comes from a mission, a deadening of senses that just spent hours of hyper-alert, of muscles that were overstretched and overused. Half his body seems to be twinging lightly, sending minor flashes of pain that glimmer faintly in his soup-slow brain that’s doing it’s damndest to focus up enough to unlock his fucking flat.

The weariness is so pronounced that he couldn’t be bothered to enter his apartment like a proper vigilante and had walked in the building’s front door. He isn’t too worried, it’s 3:15am and the streets outside are nearly deserted. Besides, Babs has alerts on all CCTV cameras two miles in every direction, she’d scrub the footage if any of them caught the Red Hood waltzing into a building like he lived there.

After digging through his pockets for a few seconds, Jason gets his keys out and unlocks his door, flicking on the living room light. He sets his rucksack on the floor by the kitchen island, running the zipper down and taking out the few sets of dirty clothes from the top of the bag, putting them aside to wash later. He’d packed light for the two-week job with Roy and Kory.

Frustration edges in on the exhaustion lightly fogging his mind as he thinks over the mission itself. The drug sting on Santa Prisca had taken out some major players, but on their way out Roy got hit by some trigger happy idiot. Jason and Kory had had to perform emergency first aid on the helicopter ride off the island. It was touch and go for a bit, but eventually they’d dug the bullets of out his shoulder and thigh, and Kory cauterized the wound with her powers. Jason was taping gauze over her handiwork not twenty minutes ago. Roy will end up with two new scars and nothing more, but it wasn’t exactly how Jason preferred to end his missions.

He sighs, trying to push the days’ events from his mind. Giving himself a shake, he starts stripping down, taking off his helmet and body armor and placing them on the countertop, a tarp he’d laid down keeping his kitchen clean. His guns and miscellaneous other weapons, knives and the occasional batarang, make their way onto the tarp as well. Once he’s down to his pants and undershirt he surveys the counter, wondering what he can get away with just wiping down with disinfectant and what he’s going to have to soak in bleach overnight. As he eyes a particularly grimy blade a noise makes his way out of his bedroom. He doesn’t have to guess at what it is, and sure enough you appear a moment later, wearing an overlarge t shirt and hair mussed from sleep.

He grunts in your direction, mood still black from Roy’s close call. “Hey. You didn’t have to get up.”

“S’okay.” You softly pad over and take a seat on one of the barstools ringing the island. Neither of you say anything for a bit, silence stretching comfortably as you watch him in that even way of yours while he cleans and puts away his gear.

It still makes him pause, seeing you in his kitchen like this. This isn’t the first time you’ve graced his apartment in the early morning hours, kitchen light flickering over your head. You’d stayed over a few times since Jason had started sort-of-dating you a month and a half ago. He had actually handed you the keys when he left for Santa Prisca, you had asked if you could crash at his place while your landlord fumigated your apartment. He knows you’ve been here for two weeks, and you seem comfortable enough in his space, but Jason doesn’t think he’ll get used to moments like these. To having you here, clock ticking low while you huddle up on his barstool, streetlights outside bouncing through the window and shining hazy light on your skin.

In the month and a half that he’s known you, you’ve proven soft and sweet. Can you really fit into the seedy grooves of his life? He’s admiring you while he cleans his fucking guns at three in the morning for chrissakes, do you really belong here? Stills of you in his apartment drift across his brain, he imagines you having breakfast here in the morning, cleaning your teeth in front of his bathroom mirror, laying in his bed with your head resting on his pillow. Can he really have you like this?

Six weeks since Tim introduced you, and Jason still feels uneasy with these moments of quietness stillness, of just being together. He likes spending time with you and he’s happy you’re seeing each other, but Jason feels like he’s missing a trick, here. Something isn’t right. Maybe that’s the problem, not whether you belong in his life at all. It’s that something’s out of place with the two of you, with your relationship, if he can call it that. You text back and forth often enough, you go on dates, you fuck, but something doesn’t sit well with him. Maybe it’s that, for all the time you spend together, neither of you have actually ponied up and admitted some real feelings. It’s almost as though you’re settling into a routine of a long relationship before you’ve put in any of the grunt work, before you’ve run the risk of being vulnerable with each other. The two of you are groping blindly in the dark, hoping the other person feels the same way but never reaching out to confirm it, only to be pleasantly surprised when you bump into each other, wordlessly. It’s setting his teeth on edge, because it’s pretty clear to him that he likes you, and quite a bit more than a lot. He’s not great with emotions, hasn’t been since the pit and even before that, but he’s getting the sense that this thing with you might be starting to brush up against something big. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.

“How’d the job go?” your voice is a murmur in the dim light. For all his misgivings about whether his life can fit someone like you, you’re still choosing to sit next to his vigilante gear with no comment. On your second date, you had dropped the bomb that you know about his nightlife, and for a split-second Jason had frozen, ready to wallop Tim for clueing you in, or at the very least ignore his calls for a few weeks. Before he could even open his mouth to deny it, you told him you’d figured it out from Tim’s schedule back in college. It didn’t take a genius to make the leap from Tim to Bruce Wayne and his brood.

Jason knows you’re hazy on the details about his death and then non-death, but he isn’t in any hurry to bring you up to speed. He’s quietly grateful that you haven’t pressed.

He sets a gun down, stifling a wince at the sight of blood on the muzzle. You know about his night gig and his methods, sure, but there’s a difference between knowing and seeing blood coating a deadly firearm. A quick glance in your direction reveals that you don’t seem disgusted or repelled at all. He’s not even sure you’ve noticed it, from where he stands it looks like you’re keeping your gaze on him. You’ve drawn your knee up to your chest and are resting your chin on it, eyes wide and open as you wrap your arms around your bent leg.

Jason takes a deep breath, thinking on how to answer your question about the mission. He wants to grunt his way out of this and into the shower so he can wash the day off him, but your sweet concern deserves at least a response. Squeezing his eyes shut, he says “the sting went okay, but on the way out Roy got hit in a few nasty places.” He hears you shift in your seat. “Oh no, is he alright?”

He starts to shrug a bit as he opens his eyes. “He’ll be okay, but performing emergency surgery while under fire was—”

The last word comes out clipped and awkward as Jason catches sight of the shirt you’re wearing. You’d brought your leg down to the chair, leaving your chest open. Now he can see the shirt properly, and his gut sinks as he realizes that it’s his, that it’s one of his old ones from before, one of the ones Dick gifted to him while he was still Robin, while he was still with Bruce. His body turns stiff as his eyes trace the faded Haley’s Circus logo. Jason remembers admiring it every time a teenage Dick Grayson wore it around the manor, remembers admiring the teenage Dick Grayson himself, and his throat goes tight. Memories of who Bruce used to be to him, of what he used to be to Bruce, flood his mind and he finds he aches in a different way, more urgent, as the past takes over.

“Jay?” you ask, and there’s no way you could have missed that, the way his body locked down. “Is everything okay?” You’re moving again, hands braced on the counter like you’re about to get up and go over to him, which is the last thing he wants right now.

He can feel old defense mechanisms whirring into place. “What are you wearing?” he says, voice curt, instead of answering.

“What?” You glance down at yourself. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to bring something to sleep in so I just—”

“Where did you get that shirt?” Somewhere in his brain Jason feels guilty for making you recoil like that, but it’s lost to the wash of anger that had welled up so suddenly.

“I—I found it in your drawer, I’m sor—”

“So you were snooping through my stuff?” What is he doing, what is he doing? He doesn’t care if you went through his fucking sock drawer, why can’t he stop lashing out at you? But he knows why. 

“No, of course I wasn’t snooping, I… I just,” you’re stammering in confusion. “I didn’t know the shirt was…I can go change if you want?” you offer, trying to placate him.

Jason takes a deep breath, trying desperately to get back in control of himself. He thought he was past this, he thought he was past turning into a crazed jackass any time Bruce pre...pre-Death came up, but apparently not.

“Jay?” You say quietly. Squeezing his eyes shut, he abruptly turns around, facing his back to you. “Just,” he manages to grunt out, “just give me a second.” This isn’t their fault, he hisses in his brain, they don’t deserve his temper. Flailing about, he finally remembers a breathing exercise Dick taught him years ago. Breathe in one two three four out one two three four five. In one two three four, out one two three four five. After about a minute or two, he feels in control again. 

“No,” he says out loud, turning around to face you again, anger leaving him in an exhale. “No, you don’t have to change.” The tired ache slowly creeps back in. “I’m sorry, doll, I shouldn’t’ve gotten angry at you, that wasn’t cool.”

“It’s okay,” you say after a moment. Your shoulders don’t relax from where they’re bunched up around your neck, though, and Jason wants to kick himself.

“Seriously,” he says instead. “You’re fine, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who was wrong for shouting at you.” He needs to make it clear to you that he knows he was out of line, and that there hopefully won’t be a repeat performance of this. “It’s not even about you, it’s just…” He sighs. “Dick gave me that shirt, before. When I was, you know…”

“Still with Bruce,” you supply for him. That was much nicer than ‘When I was still on life number one,’ which is what Jason had been thinking. “Oh, Jay, I’m so sorry, if I had known…” and the compassion in your gaze is so bright he almost wants to take a step back. “You couldn’t’ve,” he says instead, because of course it wasn’t your fault. “It just took me by surprise, is all.”

You nod. “I understand.” And you don’t, not really, but he appreciates the effort. "I can try to be more...aware of stuff like that, in the future."

And Jason wants to say 'don't worry about it,' but what comes out instead is "thank you."

After a few moments of silence, Jason picks up the dirty gun and gets back to work, glancing at you worriedly every few moments. Your eyes follow him for a while, bright and sharp, but eventually you stretch your arms over your head and leave the chair. Jason expects you to go back to bed, and half wonders whether he should offer to take the couch, especially after what just happened, but instead you step into the living room and sit on the sofa, legs stretched out over his coffee table.

Jason cleans and stows the rest of his gear, washes his hands, and wipes down the countertop for good measure before collapsing onto the couch next to you. You turn your head to look at him. Your hackles are still up, and Jason feels sick with himself. “Are you sure you’re okay, doll?” He asks. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, it’s okay, I promise.” You flash him a smile, quick and dry, but he notices some of the tension leave you. “So I, um,” you clear your throat, eyes darting away from his. “I really missed you, while you were away.” You hold his gaze then, drawing your lower lip into your mouth, which always drives him a little crazy.

He’s bad at this feelings stuff, he knows he is, which is why he surprises himself when the words “I really missed you, too,” roll off his tongue, easy as anything.

Your lips curve into another smile, syrup-slow this time. He’s momentarily stunned, and when you bring that smile closer to him and peck him on the lips, he has to remind himself to kiss back.

Jason thinks you’ll stop after a minute, and it surprises him when you don’t. Instead, you let a soft sight escape and tilt your head for a better angle, licking sweet into this mouth. He’s not complaining, Jason loves kissing you, so he follows your lead and brings a hand to your waist. You hum when he does, and press yourself closer to him, almost climbing into his lap. Jason’s never been one to miss an opportunity, so he grabs you by the hips and pulls you squarely onto his thighs.

The movement startles you enough that you break from his lips, panting slightly as you reorient yourself. “Hi,” you say, still catching your breath. “Hi,” he answers, then surges up slightly to kiss you again. It’s filthier this time, your breath coming fast as you wind your arms around his neck and start running your fingers through his hair. Jason loves it when you do this, loves feeling your small hands make their way over his scalp. Any remaining tiredness flees in the face of his slow-building arousal. How can he be tired when he’s got your ass in both hands?

When he squeezes lightly you exhale into his mouth and roll your hips against his. “Naughty, naughty,” he murmurs in your ear, smiling against it. “Don’t worry, I know how to make you feel good.”

Your triumphant smile catches him off-guard. “I know you do, baby,” you purr, placing your lips at the juncture of his neck.

His instincts ping lightly. You’re grinning like you’ve won something, or something has gone right. Jason thinks for a second, remembering your soft, too-innocent step out of the bedroom, hair perfectly out of place, at almost the exact moment he came home. This setup seems too good to be true, or at least unplanned. He reaches under your borrowed shirt and confirms his suspicions: you’re not wearing any underwear.

“You were after this the whole time, weren’t you?” You pull back and oh, your grin is wicked, lips cherry-red and glistening. In retaliation, Jason snakes a hand up your chest and pinches your left nipple, lightning-fast. The soft “oh!” you make in surprise is entirely worth it.

“This whole time, you just wanted to get in my pants?”

“Guilty.” There’s a smirk in your voice as you roll your hips again. “You don’t sound too upset about it,” you tease, and you must feel his hardening cock through his pants.

He’s not upset, but he can’t resist the opportunity to tease you a bit more. “That’s what the shirt was about, wasn’t it?” God, it’s so hard to make fun of you when you’re squirming in his lap. “You were trying to do that thing where you wear someone else’s clothing and they find it really sexy and all?”

You slow down there, stop rolling your hips. Shame coats your face as you direct your eyes at the floor. “Jay, I’m so sorry.”

Your shame doesn’t belong here, and Jason’s quick to ease it away. “It’s okay, doll.” He tugs the offending shirt off, tossing it carelessly to the side. “Besides, I happen to prefer you like this.”

You’re a sight to see. Completely naked, sitting pretty on his lap, and fixing him with a look he finds almost challenging. He wants to wipe it off, so he brings his left hand back to your breast, and this time his palm meets skin.

Your eyes flutter shut. “You ‘happen to prefer me like this,’ hmm?” you murmur, arching your back into his grip. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Oh, I think you can,” Jason says slyly, but you’re not listening, you’re too wrapped up in what his hands are up to. He loves it, loves touching you and knowing it’s driving you wild, so he gets his forefinger and thumb around your nipple and pinches lightly, how you like it. He looks up to see your eyes still shut. “Aren’t even looking at me, huh, princess? Can’t even look at me when I’m giving you what you want?” He mock sighs. “Is this it, then, you manipulate me into getting you off but then can’t even look at me while I’m touching you?”

You open your eyes and huff at him. “Yes, Jay, that’s it.”

He grins, and keeps going. “Is it that I’m piss ugly? That’s it, isn’t it, you don’t want to look at my fuck-ugly face?”

“I wish your fuck-ugly mouth would shut up,” you mutter.

“What was that?” Jason moves his hand back to your waist, and you pout at him. It looks so attractive on you.

“C’mon, Jay.” You yank at his hair. “You know you’re stupid hot,” and you’re right, he does know, but some of his scars are ugly and they tend to itch. But you know that, which is why your face softens. “You’re stupid hot, and it’s very distracting. Just shut up and kiss me, you’re being annoying.”

“Okay,” he says, easy, but instead of going for your lips he licks a stripe up your breast and closes his lips around your nipple, the right one this time. Your breath leaves you in a rush, and Jason thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard, but then your breathing comes back online a moment later. It’s punch-drunk and delicious, and gets to him in the best way. His cock is becoming harder and harder to ignore. A few seconds later and you’re making these small moans that are almost obscene, so he stays right where he is, with his hands alternating between giving your ass more attention and running up and down your back.

“Fuck, Jay,” you pant, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. “Knew it, knew you would make me feel so good.”

Something occurs to him, and he sucks lightly one last time before pulling back and licking his lips. “Did you touch yourself, doll? While I was gone? Did you make yourself come?”

He has his answer when you look down and bite your lip again. “No, I, um,” and the innocent act you’re pulling is completely ruined by the small smile you’re fighting to keep off your face, but Jason doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. “I wanted you to do it, so I saved it for you.”

Fuck. Fuck. Your words go straight to his groin. The only thing he can think to do is to roll his hips against yours. You meet him there, moving torturously slow against the blunt head of his cock that’s now painful against his zipper. That bit of pain makes it so, so good, and for a few minutes he just moves with you, enjoying the feel of your body against his. Soon, you start talking again. “Jay, Jason, please, touch me,” you beg, your voice going tight as he rolls his hips.

“Where? You have to tell me where, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You stay silent for a few seconds, and then—

“My cunt. My cunt, Jay, and my clit, please.”

You never talk like that, ever, and the filth coming out of your mouth sends electricity crackling through his brain. He immediately stands up, taking you with him. You shriek a bit at being suddenly airborne, then crowd even closer to his chest and start sucking a hickey on his neck. Thoughts hazy, Jason makes for his bedroom and deposits you on his bed.

You quickly collect yourself, stretching out and preening on his rumpled sheets. Jason decides he needs to be naked immediately, and busies himself shucking off his pants and underwear and tearing off his shirt. When he looks at you again, night air cool against his skin, he sees your hand moving between your legs.

Quick as a flash, he darts onto the bed, grabbing your hand with one of his own and placing himself squarely between your thighs. “No, no,” he chides you, pressing your hand into the mattress above your head. “Come on, doll, you’ve waited this long. Let me.” And he brings his free hand to your crotch, finding your clit and rubbing the pad of his index finger against it.

“God, finally,” you hiss, bucking your hips against his hand. He chuckles at that. “Love how impatient you are, love how slick your pussy is.”

You look him in the eye, then. “For you, Jay.”

Well, hell's bells.“For me,” he agrees, then neatly slides his index finger into you. “Ngh--!” He smiles at the aborted sound you make. Jason spends a few minutes here, moving his fingers in and out of you, enjoying the way you’re shivering under his touch. Eventually, your voice stops him.

“Fuck me, Jay,” you plead. “Fuck me with your cock.”

He growls, then reaches for his bedside table. Yanking open the drawer, he fishes out a condom, then backs up to open it and roll it on. When he looks back at you he sees your eyes are wide. “You sure you want to do this?” He asks, just to check in.

You nod, then scoot back so you’re flush against the pillows, laying flat on the bed. He moves back over you, coming to rest between your thighs again, one hand on the wall above the bed for support. You gasp as he slowly pushes into you, a bit at a time. “This okay?” He asks.

“No,” you say shortly, and then you hook your legs around his waist and drag yourself toward him, taking him inside entirely. He narrowly misses biting his own tongue as sparks fly behind his eyes. “Go faster,” you order him.

Jason looks down at you. “You’re six different kinds of crazy, doll,” he says, but he smiles in spite of himself, heeds you and starts thrusting, pulling out of you a bit only to fill you again as his hips snap against yours. “You like it,” you say. He can’t believe how good you feel, how tight you are around him.

“Yeah, I do.” And of course he does.

The two of you spend a few minutes trying to match each other’s pace, hips stuttering in the face of your fragmented concentration. Eventually, though, you’re moving together again, and every time you meet one of his strokes you start to make a low sound in the back of your throat. Jason a;ways makes sure to keep his eyes open when you're fucking, and he's had them trained on you from the start. He loves how you look stretched out below him, how your breasts jump lightly when he fucks into you, how your mouth is shaped into a perfect o with lust. It’s a heady feeling, knowing he can do this to you, and he feels almost drunk with it.

Not that the lust and desire is at all one-sided. Suddenly, your muscles squeeze tight around his cock and he almost loses his mind. Before he starts to go completely he reaches a hand between you and starts rubbing at your clit.

“Ah-ah!” you shout, hands moving to his shoulders. He barely registers the feeling of your fingernails biting into his skin, all he can think about is how good you feel and how he can make you feel good. He starts swiping a thumb across your clit every time his hips slam against yours, and the string of swear words you let out in response is delicious.

“Ff-fuck. Fuck, Jay, I’m going to come,” and suddenly you do, face scrunching up below him as you ride the crest of your orgasm. Your walls clamp down on him, and Jason thrusts once more, twice, three times, and then he follows you blissfully over the edge. For a few moments, the two of you keep still, panting together and staring sightlessly into the dark as you wait for the waves of pleasure to subside enough for you to surface. Eventually, Jason wakes up and out of himself to the feeling of you planting a kiss on his lips. He gives himself a shake, then kisses back eagerly. It’s sloppy, but you don’t seem to mind, pulling back after a few seconds to sigh contentedly. “Well,” you say, dragging your arms down his shoulders, “that was nice.”

“You’re being stingy, doll,” Jason berates you lightly, pulling out of you and removing the condom. “That was a few levels beyond ‘nice.’” He ties off the condom and drops it neatly in the trash, before rejoining you on his bed and pulling you to his chest. You waste no time snuggling against him, fitting your head into the hollow of his neck.

Jason feels brave, so he says “I’m really glad you’re here,” before dropping a light kiss to your hair.

You reach up to stroke along his forearm where it rests on your chest. “I’m really glad I’m here too. And, um, I’m really glad we’re together.” You tilt your head up at that, shy eyes peering up to gauge his reaction. It’s almost too easy to meet you halfway. “I am, too.” A beat, and then “does this mean I’m calling you my girlfriend now?”

You smile pleasantly at the ceiling. “I like that.” And Jason does, too.

[poppy-pelican]

Darkness on Fire (fic) Epilogue

Rating: Explicit (this chapter is K+)

Fandom: FMA

Summary: Alphonse reflects on his mistakes but finds hope for the future.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692747/chapters/67479550

Six Years Later

 “How long will you be gone?”

“Maybe an hour.”

“Are you sure you’ll be safe?”

“Yes. It’s not even remotely dangerous.”

“Maybe you should take one of the boys with you.”

Alphonse shared a look with his brother. Ed was about to lose it. His whole body trembled, brimming with amusement as his face turned pink.

“Or maybe Ed and I will just go to the market for you,” Al volunteered, watching Roy go slack with relief. His wife wrinkled her nose.

“I’m being clingy again.” Riza’s cheeks were rosy, belly unmistakably pregnant—the reason for Al and Ed’s visit to Central. Their mother had sent them to help. Whatever that meant. “I’m sorry. It’s the hormones.”

Roy kissed his wife on the top of her head. “Trisha warned us this would happen. It’s fine.”

They were adorable. Ed made a gagging noise, but Al knew he had used alchemy to make a little stuffed bear for the baby already. Somewhere along the way, Roy and Riza had become like family, so this baby was like a new cousin. Considering Al and Ed didn’t have any cousins, they were out of their element.

Thank god Winry had tagged along.

“I’ll go with them to make sure they don’t mess it up,” Winry said, taking the shopping list from Roy.

Roy sat back down on the couch beside his wife, putting her feet in his lap. He wasn’t going anywhere until the baby was born, based on the few days Al had been staying with them. Riza had one major craving, and it was her husband’s blood. At this point, Al thought they should focus all their efforts on keeping the man hydrated.

After Roy and Riza had married, they had moved to the outskirts of Central, which Al appreciated whenever they visited. Not only was it closer to Resembool, but it was far away from where the events of his greatest mistake took place. Even now, as they walked down the road to the markets the gentlest clink could be heard as Ed walked with his automail leg. Worse than that was the memory of sitting on a bridge with an ancient creature in the form of a young boy, waiting for the sunlight to weaken him before he shot himself and sunk down into the river.

Sometimes Al thought he should have stopped him, tried harder to talk him out of it, but…he really didn’t think vampires were meant to live so long. His father assured him he’d done the right thing. A vampire had the right to choose their own time after living so long.

“I can’t believe they’re having a little baby soon,” Winry said, her voice tinged with immeasurable excitement. She had begged to come, citing that she had never seen a vampire baby.

A vampire baby, just like Al and Ed had once been. A baby that wouldn’t exist if Riza hadn’t become a vampire. Al tried to remind himself of this whenever his guilt threatened to consume his thoughts. Because stronger than his guilt over his brother’s leg or Selim Bradley, was his guilt over Riza’s death.

If helping Riza could in any way atone for it, Al was prepared to carry her all the way to Xing on his back if he had to. He knew Ed felt the same way, even if he was quieter about it.

“Hey, Winry, could you help pick out a gift for Riza? Not just the baby?” Al asked. The baby was already spoiled rotten, but watching Riza putter around the house worrying about the nursery, her husband, what they should eat for dinner…

Yes, she deserved a present.

“Oh, good idea!” Winry said. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“Some nice slippers? She seems to have trouble…bending over to get her shoes on,” Al said.

“And she likes those orange chocolates,” Ed said, blushing when Winry gave him an impressed look.

“How about some flowers?” Al added.

“Flowers are always a good idea,” Winry agreed. “I know I love to get flowers.”

Al watched to see if his idiot brother got the hint. Based on Ed’s shifty expression, he did. Things had been changing between Ed and Winry ever since he lost his leg, but as Ed began taking assignments from Roy, the two had begun writing to each other with a fervor. If they were secretly dating, Al wouldn’t be surprised, though he wondered why they would bother to hide it. Everyone already assumed they were together.

Al could only grin when, in the middle of searching for orange chocolates, Winry suddenly had a small bouquet in her arms and Ed wore a smug blush and had a second bouquet under his arm.

Chocolates found and wrapped, shopping list complete, they returned to the Mustang home. As they grew closer, Al’s sensitive hearing picked up the light conversation between Riza and Roy.

“You can have more if you want,” Roy said. “I don’t mind. You know this.”

“I feel like a glutton,” she returned, but then she went oddly quiet and Al shared an amused look with Ed. It was wild how much a pregnant vampire could drink. Winry remained blissfully ignorant to the rather intimate sounds of Riza feeding from her husband.

There was little privacy between vampires.

“Oh!” Riza said, mildly surprised.

“What?”

“The baby woke up. Here, feel, they are kicking like crazy.”

Roy still had his hand on Riza’s belly when Al and the others joined them in the front room of the house after putting the shopping away. Roy’s face was lit with joy and Riza’s matched with perfect delight, contrasting with the faint scent of his freshly spilled blood still in the air.

“Is the baby kicking?” Winry asked, squishing in on Riza’s other side with perfect ease. “Can I feel?”

“Go ahead. Baby is unusually awake.”

“Ah! So strong!” Winry said, and even Al could see the way Riza’s belly wobbled under the strength of it. He wondered what it felt like. He’d never felt a baby kick before.

“You want to join in, boys?” Riza asked, and Roy reluctantly shifted away from her side to make room. “I’m due any day, so take your chance while you can.”

It was almost uncomfortably intimate, putting his hand to her stomach, but Al was struck by the miracle of it the moment the little foot pressed back against his palm. There really was a tiny baby in there.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Ed asked, looking warily between Riza and Al. Still uncertain.

“Well, we are planning to name you all honorary aunt and uncles,” Riza said. She smiled kindly at Al, as if she knew how breakable he felt in that moment. “Uncle Al will probably be the favorite.”

It was a balm to his soul, a taste of that forgiveness he was searching for. And he knew he would unhesitatingly die for this fragile new life kicking at his hand.

The urge to cry was overwhelming as his mind went from this moment to thinking of his parents doing the same for him and Ed as babies, all the way back to Selim Bradley’s sad creation. But for all the bad Selim brought, somehow, through changing Al’s father and Roy, taking Riza’s life…this little baby came to exist in this moment.

For a long time Al had thought if he could do over that day again, he would just wait it out for the adults to handle Selim, hope they put an end to it, spare Riza’s life. Now he was beginning to think Riza didn’t see it that way. She had made a little family out of her misfortunes, just as his parents had.

He smiled through his tears as the little foot kicked him again. After all the pain, something beautiful had come from it all. A bright light in the darkness.

[redhoodieone]

But We’re Your Family!

A/N: Okay, I’m back! Yes, I wanted to end this little series with a happy ending. Let me know what you think! 

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, and just cute and adorable Damian Wayne.

“This is going to be so fucking awkward,” Jason complains, as we walk up to the front door at Wayne Manor. “I haven’t been here in a long time.”

Yes, after our little anniversary sexy time last night, Jason and I had come to an agreement to celebrate with his family tonight. Despite our anxious nerves, we feared what could happen.

Jason fixes his black tie as we wait for Alfred to answer the door. We dressed up knowing Bruce would want this to be special occasion. There stood my tall boyfriend, wearing a nice black suit that compliments his muscular fit frame. I decided on a short black dress that displays my womanly curves.

And I proudly wear the golden chain necklace with the ‘J’ pendent rearing in front of my chest.

Alfred answers and smiles at us. “Ah, good evening Master Todd and Lady Y/N, come on in. Dinner is about to be served.”

Alfred lets us in, and we follow him to the dining room. The old gentleman has always been pleasant and friendly to me, and I wonder if he’s been like this with all of Jason’s past girlfriends.

Passing by the beautiful, expensive portraits, Jason links his arm to mine to hold.

 What a gentleman. He must have learned after Bruce and Alfred.

 “Perfect timing then, huh? I’m starving,” I joke.

 “Of course,” Alfred says kindly, before eyeing me up and down. He hums to himself and continues walking.

 I raise a questioning eyebrow at Jason. “What was that? Did I say or do something rude?” I whisper to him.

 “No. Maybe he’s just a little on edge since I’m back...in the family and all,” Jason whispers back, his tone revealing how nervous he is being here. “After everything...you know?”

 “You really need to give yourself a break, Jay. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone fucks up,” I insist quietly.

 “No one has fucked up the way I have, doll.”

 Just hearing Jason’s voice filled with guilt, disappointment, and anxiety, I feel horrible dragging him back here to the place he hasn’t called home since his falling out with Bruce. Even though Bruce apologized to Jason for beating the shit out of him, Jason’s always been apprehensive and on guard around his family members.

 I suddenly feel like maybe we should leave. If I can’t get him to relax, then leaving would probably be best.

 “If you want to, we can leave right now. I’ll understand,” I say softly. With my other hand, I rub his arm that is encircled with my arm. “I’ll tell them we had to leave because Roy needs help or something.”

 “No,” Jason interrupts but quickly regrets saying it loud to me. “We’re here together, and... I need to face them and get it over with. I love you so fucking much, and I need them to know how I feel about you and why you’re so important to me. We’re endgame, Y/N. This is it for me.”

 Jason halts, and I stop alongside him since our arms are wrapped together. Alfred continues walking, not even noticing we stopped.

 “Endgame? This is it for you?” I ask him seriously. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes, I’m fucking serious doll. You’re the only one I want. You’re the only one I want to be with. If I had to fucking grow up and say what I want for my future, I can honestly say you’re my future and it doesn’t scare me one bit. I mean, Y/N, you’ve changed my life. You’ve changed me...for the better,” Jason continues, feeling his chest tighten with his secret confessions. He lets go of my arm and holds my hands while he stares down at me. Those blue eyes shine with tear drops. “I sure as hell don’t jump into a fight without a plan anymore. Because I gotta stay alive and be smart just so I can get back home to you now. I stopped drinking and smoking so much, because I know it makes you uncomfortable as fuck because of your parents’ bad habits when you were little. I even...talk about my feelings with you because I know I can’t be a closed book if we’re together. You see, Y/N? I’ve never been so serious before in my life, and now all I want is you forever.”

 I smile and kiss his cheek; stunning him, since he believed I would have kissed his lips. “And after everything that’s happened to you, you deserve this. You deserve happiness, Jay,” I reply honestly.

 “Then all I need is you to be happy,” Jason accepts my answer, and sighs as he looks at the dining room near us. “Now let’s go eat dinner with my insane family or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

 “As long as we’re together we can handle your family,” I say.

 Jason exhales again and holds my arm as he leads us into the dining room. The long wooden dining table seems as big as my apartment living room. Bruce is seated at the end, while Dick, Barbara, Tim, and Damian are seated nearby; dressed up as us, too.

 While Dick, Barbara, and Tim offer friendly smiles to us, Bruce looks just as nervous as Jason while Damian scowls at us.

 Bruce stands to greet us. “Jason, Y/N,” Bruce greets us as he pats Jason’s back gently and kisses my hand. “Pleasure to have you here.”

 I blush and giggle from the politeness of Bruce Wayne, while Jason rolls his eyes and scoffs at his father.

 “Come and have a seat,” Bruce says, and guides us to the table. I notice Bruce motions me to sit next to him, but I end up sneaking by Jason, so he could. I could tell they’re both extremely uncomfortable and nervous around each other.

 Jason reluctantly takes a seat beside Bruce, while I sit on the other side of Jason. I immediately frown when Damian makes Tim switch seats with him so Damian could sit next to me for some unknown reason.

 Dressed in identical suits, Dick and Tim almost resemble twins with their dair hair slicked back and those intriguing blue eyes. Damian looks like he could pass off as Jason’s clone; both boys didn’t even bother slicking their hair back as they opted to keep their hair messy and spiked in some parts. Dick and Tim whisper something to each other and then smile at me. Bruce glares at them and gives me a relaxing grin.

 “I think it’s so amazing that you guys just celebrated your two-year anniversary! Do you guys have anything planned for the weekend?” Barbara asks, resting her chin on her hands, as she gazes at us. “Where are you taking Y/N?”

 “Yes, and no, I’m not telling anyone because it’s a surprise,” Jason growls through his teeth at her.

 I didn’t even know Jason planned something for us this weekend. He really must not want anyone to know.

 “Jason did give me this,” I say, pointing to my necklace.

 “That is so beautiful!” Barbara says excitedly.

 “Well, yeah because we all were there when Jason bought it, remember?” Dick reminds her.

 “I’m surprised he didn’t get her a cheap 50 cent ring from the grocery store,” Tim jokes.

 “And once again, fuck you replacement!” Jason says, smirking at Tim.

 “Alright, Jason you let us help you with the anniversary gift but why won’t you tell us what you have planned?” Barbara asks.

 “A weekend trip away sounds very nice. I think Paris is the best choice since it’s a romantic landmark to most,” Tim suggests.

 “I’ve actually never been to Pairs before,” I admit. From the looks of it, the family around me has been there once or many times since they’re all smiling and look lost in thought.

 “You should take her!” Dick cries out dramatically. “It’s so beautiful and romantic!”

 “Dick...” Bruce warns.

 “What?!” Dick whines.

 “T-t.” Damian scoffs.

 Alfred sets down a delicious smelling cooked brisket, with garlic mashed potatoes, buttered corn on the cob, and side salads that look like they came from Olive Garden. My mouth waters at the sight of the food.

 “What’s wrong with Paris?” Tim asks Bruce.

 “Nothing is wrong with Paris, but I guess Jason’s too good to take Y/N to Paris!” Dick joins in.

 “Or maybe he has something else planned,” Barbara tries to reason with Dick.

 “It doesn’t seem like he has a plan at all!” Tim argues.

 “You all need to stop. Now.” Bruce threatens.

 “Tell us your plan! I want to know!” Dick demands.

 “Like I said before, we already have plans!” Jason answers annoyed. “And I’m not telling anyone!”

 I’m about to turn to Jason and ask why he’s so angry about being asked about the weekend, but Damian clears his throat and it stops the arguing as all eyes focus on the blood son.

 “Are we going to ignore the fact that Todd had sexual intercourse with Y/LN and we all watched last night? Are we going to address Y/LN’s role in our family now?” Damian asks curiously.

 It’s silent between all of us. My cheeks burn with embarrassment and I glance over at Jason who’s face, and body has frozen with fear.

 And I’ve never seen Jason afraid until now.

 “Yeah...let’s talk about that. So, I gotta ask! What’s the sex like?” Dick asks, giggling like a child. He looks at Jason and then me repeatedly. He must be very curious to know. “Is he too selfish? Do I need to talk to him and give him pointers? Is there anything I can personally do for you, Y/N?”

 “Dick!” Barbara shouts. She looks humiliated!

 “Oh my God,” I mumble shyly.

 “That’s none of your fucking business, dickhead!” Jason snaps angrily. He stands up to glare at his older brother. “I fucking treat my Y/N like a queen. I fucking love to eat her out, make her cum every time, and hold her after because I know cuddling is a big deal for her when she’s weak and tired. I fucking worship her body, her curves, and her thick thighs because honestly she’s too good for me and I’m even lucky enough to see her naked. I fucking love her and I’m always going to please her. So, the answer to all your questions is: fuck you dickface!”

 Dick stares at Jason with an open mouth and shocked face. Bruce sighs, and rubs his eyes. Tim and Barbara shrug at each other. Damian continues to watch me while Alfred exhales stressfully at everyone.

 I decide I need to fix this before things get worse.

 “Okay, I’m going to answer every question and try to explain things better so everyone understands, is that okay? Damian, yes, Jason and I do have sex. You see, we have sex because we are...” I pause, trying to think clearly where to take his since Damian’s 14-years-old, and wouldn’t want descriptive details. Bruce nods his head in my direction to go on. “We have sex because we’re sexually attracted to each other. It feels good. It feels so good, I mean, REALLY good. We love each other so much that having sex is something couples do when they want to help each other feel good. What you saw last night was exactly that. We were celebrating our two-year anniversary and we didn’t think anyone would see. So, I’m really sorry about that. I can only imagine that watching us could have been a frightening and embarrassing moment for you, but I think when you get older, you’d find it perfectly natural and normal to do.”

 Damian raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t exactly frightened nor embarrassed, Y/LN. My questions are merely about why you and Todd have sexual intercourse like animals. Todd was on top of you like a lion gets on top of a lioness in the jungle, except he did not penetrate you from behind. You were awfully loud too, as if you were going to cry. And besides your specific choice of sexual positions is also questionable. You allowed Todd to dominate you. But my main concern is if you are using birth control. Because If I know Todd and I unfortunately do, I can honestly say he would try to impregnate you to keep you for himself. Now tell me, Y/LN, you’re not against having children, are you? And if not, are you both using all types of protection during sexual intercourse?” Damian asks with complete fascination.

 Whether he’s genuinely curious or if he’s trying to start more trouble, I can tell Damian is clearly naive about relationships.

 Jason spits out his drink. He chokes and hits his chest to clear his throat.

 “WHAT?!” Jason shouts.

 “I am merely asking because I want a nephew. I have already seen you two engage in animalistic sex, and everyone with a brilliant mind knows sex is purely for procreation. Now, when shall I receive my nephew?” Damian asks me. “Nine months, correct? I hope I don’t have to wait until next year for you two to start reproducing.”

 I can feel the sweat running down my back. All eyes are on me, and I can tell we’re all uncomfortable with Damian’s questions.

 “I-I... uh...you see, Damian...” I trail off unsurely.

 “Do you want children, Y/LN?” Damian asks.

 “Uh, of course I do. I just-” I ramble on until Jason touches my hand on the table to tell me I can stop talking.

 “We’re waiting for kids, demon spawn,” Jason finally answers. His hands clench into fists on the table, and I can see his strong jawline tightening. Jason finally is able to pull off the Bat glare because Dick, Tim, and Barbara are forced to look away from him.

 “Well, why the hell would you wait, Todd?! Y/LN is clearly out of your league, and if you cannot give her what she wants, then you have no business being with her,” Damian argues back.

 “Damian!” Bruce yells.

 “What? I’m just asking what everyone else is obsessing about!” Damian defends himself.

Alfred clears his throat. We all look at him and notice he’s not pleased with us. “If I must say, I believe Master Todd and Lady Y/N will discuss their future plans when they are ready to. And I have always been correct when it comes to you children so let me put your uneasy minds at rest: they will get married and have children. And do you know how I know that? Well, I believe after every tragedy or hardships a person must go through, there is a positive light at the end of the darkness for them. You see, darkness and pain are what makes us stronger, and when we become stronger, we are then gifted with the people we love. It’s as if it’s life’s way of paying us back, and I believe Master Todd is being given a second chance at life and he deserves it so. I believe you all deserve it as well. But I believe Lady Y/N is Jason’s gift from life, and I sure hope he doesn’t bloody well screw it up!” Alfred explains.

 Jason glances at me smiling. “I’d like to believe she’s my gift from life,” Jason admits.

 “You know Jason, we may have had our problems in the past, but I know for a fact she is your gift from life. Just follow your heart and be happy. That’s all I want for you and your brothers,” Bruce says kindly.

 “Thanks Bruce,” Jason says gratefully.

 Jason swiftly stands up as Bruce, and the two hug each other. Everyone smiles and tells them it’s about time they made up. Dick quickly grabs Tim and Damian, so they join in the family hug, as well as Alfred. Barbara and I laugh but stay seated since it’s a Batboy thing.

 “I’m sorry about talking about mine and Jason’s sex life,” I apologize to Barbara. “I just didn’t think we had animalistic sex, though.”

 “You know Y/N, if it makes you feel any better, Dick is definitely a mime in bed,” Barbara confesses laughing. “He’s just as dramatic in bed as he is with people.”

 “Hey! I am not a mime!” Dick shouts. He’s clearly offended, as he pulls away from the Batboy hug. “I just…make things interesting!”

 The men and boys return to the table to sit and serve themselves dinner, finally.

 “Sometimes there are no words or facial expressions,” Barbara continues to tease Dick.

 “That’s really creepy, Dick,” Tim admits.

 “I’m not a mime!” Dick protests.

 Even Bruce and Alfred get into it.

 “Try to say a few words and make some facial expressions, Dick,” Bruce chuckles.

 “Yes, Master Grayson. Do not frighten Lady Barbara anymore,” Alfred adds.

 As the rest of them continue to embarrass Dick, Damian scoffs and looks back at me. “Now Y/LN, shall I start seeing you as a sister-in-law, since it’s clear Todd is never going to let you go?” he asks.

 “I think you can,” I answer. I gasp when Jason kisses my cheek and holds me.

 “You definitely can, demon spawn.”

 Just when we are eating and enjoying each other’s company, Damian slowly looks up at everyone and smiles.

 “I would still like to know when I’ll receive a nephew since I would like to volunteer to train him and be the best Robin when I become Batman one day,” Damian confesses, and turns to Jason and me specifically. “Perhaps you should be impregnated soon, Y/LN. So that way my nephew will be born in spring; the significant birth date as a baby Robin being born in the season of beginning life.”

 “I like that idea a lot,” Bruce admits.

 “Can we just get through this dinner first?” I ask nervously.

 “Just give us a hint! A clue!” Dick and Barbara shout out.

 “No!” Jason yells.

 Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Barbara, Tim, and Damian all shout: “But we’re your family!”

 After dinner, I was graciously welcomed into the family. As Jason and I walk back to his car, he stops me. “What’s wrong?” I ask. Did we forget something?

 Jason kisses me. The way our lips fit, and touch makes us both breathless.

 “Nothing is wrong. I’m just appreciating and being thankful for life giving you to me,” Jason whispers.

 “Me too Jason.”

 “And I think when we get home, we should start practicing for…you know,” Jason chuckles and kisses my cheek. “I mean, if we’re going to have a baby in spring, it’s gonna take a lot of dirty fun to make it happen.”

“Oh Jason,” I sigh, and roll my eyes.

“Remember doll, life gave me you,” Jason reminds me. “I’m never letting you go, Y/N.”

“And life gave you to me, and I would never let you go.”

Never.

[deehollowaywrites]

Title: Doomed to Fail: The Incredibly Loud History of Doom, Sludge, and Post-Metal

Author: J.J. Anselmi

Release: February 11, 2020

Genre: music, nonfiction, memoir

Order here!

When I first heard Metallica’s “Battery,” I knew I’d found the real shit, J.J. Anselmi’s newest states in an early chapter. The social alienation, the depression, the anger, and the preoccupation with death: it was the music I needed, right when I needed it. Similar stories abound in volumes like Jon Wiederhorn’s Raising Hell and a recent academic anthology of gender, sexuality, and heavy metal analyses; the typical pathway to extreme music, it seems, is youthful aggression, disaffection, or malaise. It’s not very cool to recall that your teen rage was tempered rather than catalyzed by religion. Even less cool to admit that if you are currently swimming in doom’s murk, you only took the chilly plunge because of boys and men. 

A few antecedents, then: The Minutemen. Captain Beefheart. Def Leppard. The Mars Volta. 

Edgy enough, weird enough, almost metallic enough, nearly harsh enough. It’s easy to see the slippery slope, to hear my mother’s voice in my head. If that’s what you want to spend your money on, she said of The Mars Volta’s full-length debut, I guess it’s your money. A year or so later, she would be interrogating me about certain media downloads to the family desktop--not because I was infringing copyright via poorly-labeled LimeWire files, but because the music was the sort that drove away the Holy Spirit (to be fair, Master of Puppets didn’t inspire any epiphanies). Mormons are very concerned with the Spirit’s presence. Movies and music are the fastest and most seductive shortcuts to becoming lost in a mire of worldliness, spiritual miasma, and sin. Interestingly, my mother was less perturbed by my weekly emails to a much-older dude I’d “met” on a geek forum, he of the curly beard and Captain Beefheart appreciation. For a suburban teenage girl reading SPIN in 2003, music in particular seemed a clear Point A to ineffable cool’s Point B, as evidenced by--although at the time I wouldn’t have phrased it thus--fuckability. Whiteboy music journalists, from Klosterman with his contrarian hair metal love to Azerrad deifying The Minutemen, had Ideas about what made rock music good. It was a trail of breadcrumbs that could be followed by anyone, so maybe I’d start off as me and end up as Brody Dalle. Of course, wanting to be punk is proof that you're destined to remain square, so the guy in the homemade Leftöver Crack t-shirt likewise stayed a mystery. Meanwhile, I made a fansite about The Mars Volta for my web design class, wrote an AP essay about why filesharing is good, actually, and counted the days ‘til graduation.

Euro-style power metal is romantic. Good make-out tunes. The fine art of getting into something that someone you fancy is into, well, that’s bog-standard for a huge swath of humanity and I’ve never been above it because I do like exploring new things. However, there’s a certain flavor of man who encourages women to listen to music he likes not out of genuine enthusiasm and desire to share, but because filling up a vessel with water from your spring means that you, yourself, will never be thirsty. There’s no rearranging of boundaries necessary for the recommender, no exchange of gifts, no call to reassess your favorites in light of new information. Where things get hairy is when women take what is conferred and make it their own. The vaguely fringe music that had already primed my eardrums led away from flourish-laden prog and high-camp power metal, into weirder and uglier places my boyfriend at the time had no interest in traversing. It stings a bit to realize that your heart is big enough to hold all the loves that comprise the person you love, that your desire is malleable and open, and that they have always been enough by themselves, fully-formed, unswerving as a highway through the desert. It hurts to hear that you’re not doing the thing (metal or comics or horse racing) in the way that was shown you, properly. This might be when the rage starts to seep back in, poisoning the spring. But solo concert-going is only lonely until you make it past the venue’s threshold. After that, the Spirit is always with you.

Myself, I’ve seldom found the divine in places it was supposed to inhabit.

The thing about The Mars Volta that embedded itself in my ribcage seventeen years ago wasn’t their tight jeans: it was how they seemed to have misplaced all their fucks. Prior to Sacha Jenkins’ 2003 SPIN review, the ugliest thing I’d sought out of my own volition was an Anti-Flag album, a suitably edgy move in George W. Bush’s America. Deloused in the Comatorium did not care if you understood what it was going for; an impetus existed behind the unexpected time signatures, dog-bothering vocals, and salsa moves that was alluring in its opacity and bloody-mindedness. A bunch of weirdos recorded a fuck-you in album format because they wanted to. Atmosphere, emotion, tension could all be far more important to a song than melody or lyrics. Listenable was up for debate. Art formed its own excuse. In this way, although the two groups couldn’t be further apart sonically, my heart was made ready for Katatonia. Then Oceans of Slumber. Torche. Black Castle, Thou, Bell Witch, Cult of Luna, on and on, an endless sinkhole opening up. 

A great and appealing contrast of doom metal lies in the apparent dumbassery of its sound. This is broadly true of all metal, of course; Coal Chamber or Megadeth, Black Sabbath or Pantera, metal was music for drop-outs, stoners, school shooters… the purview not only of miscreants, but of boys and stupid boys at that. Punk seemed the smarter option, if you had anger issues, had heard of feminism, or tended toward hobbies like trying to form a Young Democratic Socialists chapter at your school. For older me, trying to rewrite a religious mind into a liberal and cosmopolitan one, prog metal was defensibly slick and impressive, while power metal seemed less openly hateful toward women. All the while, doom lurked beneath layers of nay-saying. Adult men I’ve known, talented guitarists with good ears and smart hands, have sneered at all the seeming lack populating the slower subgenres--lack of beauty, skill, or even aggression in its most recognizable and masculine forms. Yet, for a listener whose favorite pastime is intellectualizing everything in sight, doom is the other side of the sun. 

I don’t… really… understand what a tritone is. I know it’s important, and I could do a bad approximation of the opening of “Black Sabbath,” but definitionally I’m at a loss. Often I have no idea which instrument is making the sound that I like. I don’t know anything about music theory or how to talk with authority about what makes music good, important, or even what differentiates music from other sounds. Maybe a drone metal track is a collection of sounds, rather than a song? My Dream Theater-enthusiast ex figured since I was a nebbishy bespectacled geek, prog would be all I needed. The thinking man’s metal! No one has ever felt threatened by Steven Wilson. You can remain Smart™ while listening to assorted finger-wanky Europeans. In contrast, kicking it with a Texas weed-cult at the skatepark is stupid. Obviously, every genre of metal contains its geniuses, and one of doom’s most lovable qualities is how often unquestionable finesse arrives wrapped in brutal, bizarre, counterintuitive paper. But beyond the plausible deniability of technique and philosophy found in groups like Neurosis is something even more compelling. Sometimes, it just fucking sounds cool.

It sounds like that because someone did it intentionally, gleefully. I wrote a novel like that because I liked how it looked, sounded, felt.

One of the birthrights of normative (white, cis, straight, abled) masculinity is feeling. If you turn out queer, or are socialized as female, or live with the massed connotations of a racist culture written over your skin, overt and violent emotion may be anathema. The power of accessing a fully human emotional spectrum for the first time should not be underrated. The doom bands I grew into loving, independent of the people closest to me who putatively liked similar music, are into feelings. Even, or maybe especially, the ones authority figures wish you didn’t have (and those aren’t always the bad ones. Authority hates it even more if you feel good). If there’s a thing Mormons don’t countenance, it’s feeling bad things and informing people of them, or feeling the wrong good things. Doubt is a big no-no. It’s always better to feel shame when possible. If the Spirit isn’t telling you what you know it should, it’s on you for not listening enough, praying enough, being enough. If the Spirit’s voice isn’t soft and gentle, if it instead materializes in the best growl this side of Obituary, well, Satan quotes scripture too. Meanwhile, doubt--lack of clarity, spiritual and emotional murkiness, bone-deep ambivalence--is doom’s molten heart. Meanwhile, shame--at the self’s fondled hatreds, as C.S. Lewis has it, for things desired and things questioned--is shunned by doomsayers.

The body experiences advance warning. Fury, fear, arousal. Sure, I attribute my openness toward weird music to frustrated teen lust. Sure, I owe Roy Khan and Tony Kakko for first love and redrawn horizons. When fire dies, what’s left is not absence but ash, fertile and generative. Doomed to Fail recognizes that continual plumbing and revolving in uncertainty for its beauty and possibility. Whatever formed my rage and love, those two sides of the same forbidden coin, they belong to me now. 

[zetalial]

@creativityknight​ Please enjoy this little piece of fanfiction I wrote for your secret santa gift. Just a bit of hurt/comfort featuring Ed, Al, Hughes and Gracia. Happy Christmas!

“Are you alright?”

Ed clenched his fists, feeling frustrated. It was not the first time Al had asked him that today. What was he doing wrong? He tried to keep up his regular furious pace with his head held high. He did not like that Al was somehow picking up that something was wrong.

Okay, yes, there were several things wrong with him. He’d been forced to skip a couple meals over the last few days and was beginning to feel the effects. He also hadn’t slept well last night. And it was absolutely freezing. This was all compounded by the fact that their last mission had been a complete failure and he was pretty badly bruised from their latest skirmish.

It was that last thought that encouraged him to keep moving. How could he rest now, without any hint of success? How could he allow himself to complain about his physical limitations when his brother didn’t even get to experience them? No, he wasn’t going to tell Al that anything was wrong - these were just minor inconveniences and he didn’t need Al to worry about him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just this atrocious weather, slowing us down,” Ed grumbled in reply, trying to keep his voice steady.

He wasn’t sure how convincing he was, but fortunately, Al didn’t press the issue.

And he wasn’t really lying either - because the stupidly cold day was bad as well. His automail joints seemed to burn and his leg in particular kept locking up, making the simple act of walking a chore. It didn’t seem to matter how many layers he wore, for the cold always leeched into his metal arm and seared his shoulder.

“How about we visit Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes first?” Al suggested, a twinkle in his soulfire eyes. “I’m sure the Colonel won’t mind waiting for us.”

Ed grinned, feeling a touch more optimistic. That sounded like a plan.

-

“Edward, Alphonse - how good to see you!” It was Gracia who opened the door. “Come in! Come in! You boys push yourselves too hard so close to the holidays.”

Ed sighed in relief at the warm, familiar home. In seconds he had made his way in and collapsed onto the absolutely softest couch while Al did all the polite talking for him.

“Sorry for coming here so suddenly, I hope you’re not too busy?”

“Not at all! We were just having a quiet day in.”

“Then I’m afraid we’ve ruined that - brother doesn’t do quiet,” Al replied wryly.

“Hey! You’re louder than me,” Ed retorted without any real heat.

“Ed! I thought I heard your voice!” Hughes entered the living room shooting him a teasing smile.

“Oh, shut up.” Ed snapped. “Pass me that blanket?”

Beside him, Al let out an audible sigh, even as Hughes flung the fluffy blanket over him, still cheerily grinning.

“Sorry about him! He’s just in a bad mood because he’s cold. It’s a pleasure to be here, for the both of us.”

“It’s fine Alphonse - it’s clear Ed’s just making himself at home.”

Ed smiled, beginning to feel more relaxed as he wrapped the blankets more firmly around him. This was nice. Hughes didn’t have any expectations for him to meet; he didn’t care about how they looked or that they turned up without warning to steal their warm couches and (hopefully) some food.

They couldn’t stay here forever of course, but sometimes he wished he could, Ed thought, as he watched Gracia talking to Al tenderly, convincing him to sit by the fire. It was so good to know that there were people who could see the soul behind the armour. In their last mission, it hadn’t been so simple.

“Why aren’t you in the office anyway? I thought you were always working,” Al was asking Hughes.

“It does feel like that, sometimes,” Gracia agreed.

“Hey, I’m not that bad! I could say the same about you, you know? You’ve been away for a whole month. I’m taking this whole week off, and you should too.”

As he said this, Hughes sat down right beside him and rested a warm hand on his strained right shoulder. The sudden contact was accompanied by a brief flare of pain. It was all Ed could do to refrain from a hiss.

“Oh no, we couldn’t take a break. We have to keep searching, you know? We’re not much good at being idle.” Al responded politely.

Ed nodded along. Damn, a week-long break sounded nice though. He was dreading travelling in this bleak weather where it seemed eternally dark and wet and cold. Even their underfurnished military dorms sounded inviting.

But if Al wanted to keep going, he couldn’t slow him down over such trivial concerns.

“Somehow I can imagine that,” Hughes said. “You’re troublesome enough in small doses-”

“Don’t call us small!”

“-And you - seriously Ed? - you don’t seem to know how to relax.”

“I am relaxing,” Ed fumed, shooting Hughes his best glare. “You’re not helping.”

But Hughes only started chuckling and, moments later, Gracia was joining in too, a helpless laughter she couldn’t seem to hold in. Ed could only sigh, and decided to just ignore them and focus on warming up his automail. This damned family - he couldn’t even get properly annoyed at them.

“Well feel free to relax here as long as you want - you definitely need to stay long enough to try my apple strudel,” Hughes finally continued.

Ed wasn’t quite certain what a strudel was, but it sounded delicious. And it explained the lovely, warm smells coming from the kitchen. They were definitely staying as long as possible.

“You’re making it?” Al asked.

“He’s trying to impress Elysia.” It was Gracia who answered. “She loves apple pie, you know?”

Homemade apple pie was absolutely delicious.

“Anyway, it has quite a ways to go so why don’t you both go upstairs and get changed?” Gracia suggested, smiling but Ed felt himself frowning as she glanced at Al.

“Oh, no that’s fine. I can’t take this off,” Al replied vaguely, looking over to him for help.

Al hated to lie, Ed knew, but explaining their situation was far worse. “Yeah, don’t worry about it - I could do with a change though,” Ed said quickly.

He untangled himself from his blankets, limbs protesting as he struggled to his feet even as he plastered on a large grin. Much as he hated to do this, delaying was unwise -he needed to check on his injuries and his automail. Best to do it now, before anyone noticed anything was wrong.

His whole body felt heavy and his automail arm wasn’t nearly warm yet but he forced himself up the stairs, and directly into a large bathroom, where he practically collapsed on the tiled floor, feeling drained. How had he even survived the trip from the station to this house without stopping?

Ed ran some hot water; experience had taught him that water was the best way to quickly warm himself, and more importantly his arm, up. It was also far safer to use alchemy to heat water up rather than directly transmuting his arm.

In no time, he had prepared a bath and let out a sigh of relief as he entered. He closed his eyes and just relaxed. This was bliss. The biting cold was finally subsiding.

His chest was still stinging with pain however. The scratches and bruises would need extra attention. Ed sighed, he’d deal with it as best he could now and then they’d eat - food sounded absolutely lovely.

Then they’d have to head to the Military HQ, they’d delayed long enough already - though they’d inevitably have to deal with Mustang’s complaints. And then they would choose another destination and they could only hope the weather wouldn’t get any worse.

But that was to worry about later.

-

Maes Hughes crept up stairs, wondering what he was going to say. He had decided to talk to Ed. The young alchemist was clearly pushing himself too hard and it was going to get him into trouble.

No... it was more than that. He cared. Those boys seemed to trigger some sort of instinct in him - from the moment he’d met the distinctive pair, he’d felt the urge to help them. They’d wormed their way right into his heart in an instant and now he felt responsible for them.

Ed was pushing himself too hard and Maes wanted to help him, to convince him to slow down before he burned himself out. The boys had been given so much independence to do what they needed and that meant they had no one really looking out for them.

Roy cared about them too, Maes knew, but he didn’t seem to know how to properly reach out to them. Maybe he couldn’t - stuck playing the role of their superior officer. And perhaps he sometimes struggled to see past Ed’s bluster.

Maes had nearly been convinced himself, when the two had wandered in. They hadn’t looked particularly worse for wear, cold weather aside. Ed has been alternatively smiling and grouchy and Al hadn’t given any signs that anything was wrong.

But when he’d brushed a hand on Ed’s shoulder, he’d seen the way Ed had flinched slightly and, more importantly, felt the startling cold of Ed’s automail. Sometimes, Maes forgot Ed even had fake limbs - he hadn’t realised how affected by the weather the metal limbs could be.

But obviously they had to be bothering him. And if Ed was trying to keep it hidden, then he was probably in worse shape than he appeared and shouldn’t be heading out into even more danger.

(He shouldn’t be in any danger at all, really. But Maes knew a lost cause when he saw one and he knew there was no chance of getting the very driven pair to back off entirely. Convincing them to take any break when they obviously needed it was hard enough.)

He heard sounds coming from their spare room and poked his head through the open door. He gasped.

“Ed! Are you okay?”

Ed froze. He looked up and shot him a glare. “What are you doing here? Go away.”

(Why did he have to be the type conceal injuries? Why wasn’t he surprised?)

“Ed! You’re bleeding.” He observed, kneeling down beside the boy. Ed had taken off his shirt, leaving his chest, and a plethora of injuries, bare. “What happened to you?”

“It’s not bleeding, it’s just a bit red.” Ed denied, hiding the long gash from view with his flesh hand. “And just a fight; a bit of shrapnel. It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing. Listen, if you need medical supplies, then I’ve got some but that’ll take some time to heal.” Even as he said this, He could see the gash was less bad then he’d initially feared. It looked painful but it didn’t seem to actually be bleeding.

However it also drew his eye to other injuries. Ed’s skin was marked by a number of old bruises and a collection of smaller cuts, even as Ed crouched and tried to hide as much of his skin as possible from view.

“I’m fine - I’m taking care of it.” Ed growled.

(He was doing an alright job - yes. Somehow this just filled him with more dread. How often had he tended to his own injuries.)

And Maes quickly realised he was too close and he was making him uncomfortable. He’d come here to talk, hadn’t he?

“Good,” he replied gently, shuffling back, and Ed relaxed minutely. “But if there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

“Fine,” Ed said. It may have just been his attempt to end the conversation but Maes still counted it as progress.

(They didn’t like to ask for help. Why were they so reluctant to extend trust to others?)

“Lovely - And remember that you can ask my lovely Gracia as well if I’m not available - she’s happy to help as well!”

Ed just nodded, and turned to grab his shirt. This revealed a little more skin but Maes managed to stop himself reacting at the sight of a few more bruises. Exactly how bad had that fight gone for him?

“And please consider taking a few days off as well - you and your brother can stay here if you don’t want to stay at the military dorms.”

Ed sighed. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not quitting because of a few bruises.”

(Taking a holiday wasn’t quitting!)

Why couldn’t he see what was good for him? Maes longed to argue, but he could sense it was unlikely to really help. Ed wasn’t going to be convinced with sound reason.

Instead he nodded and stood up once more. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone then. And don’t worry, I won’t mention anything to Al.”

Ed looked up at him in surprise. He offered him a soft smile. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t much but it was all he could do for now. He turned to exit the room. “Wait,” Ed spoke up once more.

“Err... really thanks. I am fine. But thanks,” Ed was ducking his head so he couldn’t make out his expression.

Maes paused. Did that count as Ed opening up to him? No, probably not. Either way...

He turned around once more and quickly knelt down to wrap his arms around him and gave the small boy a gentle hug. “We love you, you know that, right?” he murmured.

Ed didn’t react, but he didn’t draw away either.

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

When the Elric brothers had finally departed, with bright smiles and a generous amount of pastry, Maes picked up his telephone. Roy would be able to convince them to hang around the city for a little longer, if he knew they needed the rest.

-

-

Thanks for reading. This piece was a little more troublesome than I anticipated and I probably should’ve done more dialogue - I’m always better at dialogue. Oh well. @fmasecretsanta2019​ This event was lots of fun to participate in. Cheers!

[melyaliz]

New Years

Summary: Jennifer looks forward to the new year with her friends. Years later their kids are doing the same.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x oc, Roy Harper x oc, Kaldur x oc

Notes: Just some fun with my OC’s for New Years

Maia and her kids Collin, Eric, Sofie are @royslittleharper

Annabella and her kids Atina, Aquata are @the-shadow-of-atlantis

Rest are mine or DC’s (You get it)

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Jennifer cried shaking the bottle of champagne Shane had given her. The bartender laughed shielding his face from the spray as the very drunk girl stood on the bar spraying the screaming crowd. Everyone jumping up and down as glitter, balloons, and champagne rained down on them. Alcohol infused excitement exploding through the bar as everyone moved in a large frenzy.

“I don’t know what I expected giving you that bottle,” Shane laughed up at his friend who was now sitting at the bar looking proudly out over at the people around her. Next, to Jennifer, a cute blonde leaned over the bar motioning for Shane to come over.

“Where’s my New Year’s kiss bartender?”

“Waiting for you baby” Shane said leaning forward kissing her. Behind her, a line of other girls started to clamber up cheering and asking for their new year's kisses.

Jen laughed as she watched swinging her legs. Taking in the room around her

Kaldur’s hand was above him and Jennifer’s cousin. Annabella was laughing at something the Atlantean was saying as Kaldur moved his hand letting the champaign he had shielded from her fall to the floor. Protective as always. even if it was just from some sparkling wine. Gently he leaned forward and kissed her. His precious little gift. 

Maia was trying to get some glitter out of Roy’s hair before noticing Shane’s line of ladies.

“I’m going to kiss my old self-goodbye this year,” she told the red-haired man as she nodded toward the scene at the bar. 

“Better idea,” Roy said leaning forward, “you kiss me and keep your old self.” Maia couldn’t help but smirk as brushed her nose against his. 

“Sounds good to me”

The sound of Dick Grayson’s laughter broke Jennifer out of her musings. She flashed him a smile as he walked up to the brunette. She had always loved the sound of his laughter and could pick it out of any room. Taking a swig from the mostly empty bottle she nodded toward him.

“Is there a problem officer?” Jennifer asked before holding out the bottle for him.

“I’m on duty,” he said shaking his head, “But I had to stop by and make sure you were all good.”

“Well I’m not,” Jennifer said wrapping her legs around his waist, drunk on wine and excitment, “I never got a New Year’s kiss”

“I could fix that,” Dick whispered before leaning forward gently kissing her. His hand getting tangled up in her thick brown hair. He knew this was it, just the light flirting and surface relationship. But it had taken so much time to get back to this place he would take what he could get.

Plus she tasted amazing, like champagne. Bubbly and sweet.

“Also, can I get a ride home officer? I’m too drunk to drive.” Who knows, New Year and all. 

Dick smiled kissing her forehead, enjoying her closness, Savoring it. drinking it in. “Of course, you ready to go?” Jennifer looked around the bar at all her friends. It had been a good night to a rather messy year. Who knew what the future unfolded but for this moment, this beautiful moment here in this bar everything was beautiful. Covered in glitter and champagne.

“Dick you’re here,” Annabella said skipping up to him, her hand intertwined with Kaldur’s. At the same moment Maia’s laugh rang in Dick’s ear as her arms wrapping his neck.

“Officer Grayson! Are you here to arrest us for disorderly conduct? Or are you going to give Jen a ride home?” Maia winked at Jennifer “Fast and hard.”

Shane was now trying to break apart Gigi and Bart who were still making out against the wall. Honestly, Jennifer was pretty sure they hadn’t moved all night. Both Tim and Faith had offered to patrol that night which meant the red haired couple tended to be even more handsy than normal. Mostly because Faith wasn’t there to shoot them with a water gun.

“I hope we never grow apart,” Jennifer said pulling Annabella into a hug kissing her head. “In fact, I hope our kids are as close as we are”

--- Many years later---

---(Children years later)---

“NO Collin! I just got this shirt. UHG! I hate you!” Britney cried looking down at her brand new gold glittery crop top covered in the blue drinks that Shane and his two sons were passing out.

The bartender had offered to host a high school New Years party. All non-alcoholic of course. Not that the high strung kids of Gotham High needed it to be total idiots.

Case in point Collin, Maia and Roy’s son, and Britney, Jennifer and Dicks Daughter. 

“Well if you weren’t such a klutz I wouldn’t have spilled it on you!” Collin shouted back rolling his eyes, “Don’t be such a drama queen.”

“I’m not being a drama queen! If you hadn’t been ogling Renee’s butt you would have seen me come up.”

“It wasn’t her butt I was looking at!”

“Huh?”

“It’s not that bad,” Lisa said pulling out a napkin, “Honestly you can’t even see a difference with the glitter.”

“Ohhh Britney, do you have a drinking problem?” Renee asked skipping up looping her arm around Collin’s “I doubt anyone will want to give you a New Year’s kiss looking like a wet dog.”

“Oh shut up” Britney snapped lunging forward causing Lisa to hit herself in the face as she tried to help Britney clean up. Letting out a soft sigh Lisa silently wondered why she even bothered. 

“They're at it again,” Antoinette said taking another drink from the bar.

“Do they ever stop?” Sofie asked

“Have you guys seen Aquata?” Red asked coming up to his sister and friend. Both girl’s shook their head. Red shrugged taking a mocktail from the bar and slowly walking back into the crowd of people where May was teaching a few of the football guys how to do a cheer.

-&-

Aquata ran her fingers through her hair as she looked down at her phone. The black screen seemed to look up at her mockingly. She had just broken up with her boyfriend. It was somewhat a mutual thing but didn’t hurt any less. 

Putting her phone back into her back pocket Aquata looked out at the crowd of kids. Even her sister was talking to a few of her drama friends. New year new girl right? Slowly she walked outside to see Red sitting by himself.

“Hey.”

“Oh hey!” Red flashed her a smile

“Why aren't you with Collin?” Aquata asked sitting down next to him. The younger boy followed Collin around as if the older boy’s “wisdom” would rub off on him.

“Too loud” Red sighed tapping his head. Aquata nodded, when they had been younger Red had to sometimes leave school because he would get headaches trying to keep everyone’s thoughts out of his mind. The Teacher’s always thought it was just migraines even suggesting to Gigi and Bart that they get their son checked out for tumors.

“Why are you here?” The telepaths voice broke into her thoughts. Aquata just turned to him opening up her mind to him. Sometimes words weren’t enough.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Aquata shrugged, “No biggie,”

“His loss really.” Red added flashing her a smile, “You’re really cool… and stuff” he added lamely mentally kicking himself. And stuff? Really stupid? That was all you got? Collin would NEVER say anything that stupid.

That was when the horn went off. “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” everyone cried Aquata smiled turning to see everyone jumping up and down singing and laughing.

“Happy New Year Red” Aquata said leaning forward to give the younger boy a chaste kiss on the lips.

-&-

“Have you seen Aquata?” Atina asked over the music to Eric who was hanging with a few friends by Shane’s older son Fin who was playing DJ for the night. The middle Harper child shook his head.

“Is something wrong?”  

Atina shrugged, it was hard to explain but sometimes she just knew when her sister was upset. Like in the pit of her stomach. “I think she just broke up with her boyfriend.” she finally said. It had been a long time coming. Things hadn’t been going great for a week now and normally this lead to a breakup. Normally her sister was cool with it but it was New Years and breakups are never fun, especially on holidays.

“Oh man, the kid from East Gotham High?”

“No, that Quarterback from Star City”

“Oh, I didn’t know she broke up with the East High kid.”

“Yeah that was four months ago.”

“Huh…”

They both lapsed into silence for a moment. Atina sighed when had things gotten so awkward between them? Conversations use to flow for hours yet the past year it seemed like she could never find the right words.

“So how come you never date?” Eric asked finally. The question catching her off guard for a moment, honestly why didn't she? I mean the boy in front of her was a big part of that. Plus there was that whole Brad drama.

“I don’t know, I never found someone worth it I guess. Plus with that whole Brad stuff…” Her voice trailed off slightly, the fear from that whole experience still fresh. The boy had been stalking her for over a year and while the issue had been resolved it still felt as if she said his voice he would appear. 

“Man, what a tool,” Eric mumbled his hand instinctively balling into a fist. “If I ever see him again”

“You’ll have to get in line.” Atina laughed. “I’m pretty sure everyone wants to beat him up at this point. Or do something worse”

“Yeah, we have a pretty cool family don’t we,” Eric said looking around. His sister was sitting at the bar probably plotting some adventure with Antoinette, Frank quietly sitting next to them listening. Lisa was with her group of friends a few feet away. May was on the shoulders of his teammate, Matt, who were coming up toward them.

“HEY GUYS!” May sang out handing them both drinks. “It’s almost midnight are you ready!”

“Yep!” Atina said raising a glass cheering Eric.

“Here’s to our family and friends,” he said

“I’ll drink to that,” Matt said. May nodded in agreement. They all took a sit as Thomas, Shane’s younger son,  jumped onto the bar holding an air horn in one hand and a mic in the other.

“OK GUYS! Countdown! 10! 9!”

Atina laughed as she raised her glass with Eric and the others counting down with the room. It was as if the whole place pulsed. Excitement rippling through. As she looked up at Eric she knew this was her year.

Things were going to turn up.

-&-

“Oh my GOD! If Renee says one more time that she’s kissing Collin at midnight I am going to rip out her hair” Britney said taking a seat next to Sofie. Antoinette laughed from Sofie’s other side.

“Why does it bother you so much?” Antoinette asked taking a sip of her drink before Sofie elbowed her in the ribs.

“Stop, I already have a headache from Renee following me around asking about Collin.”

“See!” Britney said, “She’s insufferable.”

“Too bad someone else couldn’t just… you know… kiss Collin instead” Antoinette said looking around the bar innocently as if she would find that person. “I’m sure that would shut her up.”

“Nette...” Sofie started but Britney already had that glint in her eye. That, I have an idea and no one can tell me to stop, look. Next to Antoinette Frank just chuckled. Just enjoying the show. 

Thomas had just jumped up on the bar holding up an air horn.

“OK GUYS! Countdown! 10! 9!”

Britney bolted from the girls maneuvering through the crowd.

“8! 7!”

“Britney watch out!” Eric cried almost falling into Atina and one of his teammates who had May on his shoulders. The small redheaded girl let out a squeal grabbing onto the football player. Atina looked away feeling her cheeks heating up at Eric’s closeness.

“6! 5!”

Collin was shouting along with the crowd Renee next to him. Her eyes closed as she counted.

“4! 3!”  

Renee’s eyes opened and she slowly turned toward Collin a large smile on her face.

“2!”

Britney used all the amazing agility (that both her father and grandmother had blessed her with) to spin around Renee so that she had wedged her body between the other girl and Collin. The fire-haired boy smiled down at her, that cocky smile from the excitement of the party spread across his face. It may have also helped that his childhood crush was standing rather close to him. Not that he thought anything was going to happen.

“1!”  

Or that was his thought until she grabbing his collar pulling him down to her kissing him firmly on the lips. Collin’s green eyes grew wide in total shock. His mind went blank, had he just passed out? Was this a dream? No, maybe he had just died and gone to heaven.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Britney pulled away a large smile of total triumph on her face. Her hands falling from his collar to his chest. God, she was so beautiful as glitter and balloons rained down around her. In her glittery golden top, she almost looked like a little fairy or something.

“Uhhh cool” Collin mumbled lamely words totally escaping him. “And stuff.” He didn’t even realize he had wrapped his arms around her waist until the small brunette leaned back against them as she turned to look at Renee.

“Happy New Year” Britney sang slightly off key looking over at Renee who was standing there mouth totally agape in utter shock that probably matched Collin’s. For the first time in her life, she was lost for words.

Tagging:  @coffee-randomness @daisyboobear @werewitchling @nightwing-rules @jayne-writes  @guns-n-lilies @christmascass

[hisquccn]

Spoils of War Chapter 7

Summary: The prince used to love his gifts from his knights as they conquered new lands, until he realized the blood that was spilled for each new object. As he grew unhappy with material possessions, the knights resorted to bringing him less willing spoils of battle. He has to put an end to their capturing of innocent people… Hopefully his new prize, a blonde with a temper larger than his kingdom, can help him set the country free…

1/2/3/4/5/6

AO3

“Lady Riza Hawkeye” was a name thrown from mouth to mouth among the castle. A village girl made adviser by recommendation of the prince himself. The current king's adviser was strictly against it. Never had there been a female, let alone a villager to advise the royal family. The role should be given to someone experienced, he suggested. Someone educated.

“Education is nothing to concern yourself with. Her father was a scholar of his own right. She has been well taught by him.” Roy told him. “And how is someone to get experience without being tried for it?” No matter the argument, the prince's word was final. Despite the whispers and allegations, that she'd slept her way to his side among other rumors, including wild accusations of witchcraft and sorcery, she was his hand. Riza was his trusted assistant from then on.

The blonde never let the rumors bother her. She'd already heard so many during her first stay in the castle, these were the same, only louder. Whatever was said, however, she followed her prince, idly behind in wherever he went, sure to be there when he needed her. In the times that he didn't, during his fighting lessons, or when he was being fitted for new clothes, she was on the archery field.

“You're quite the shot.”

The arrow left her fingers without hesitation, despite the sudden interruption. “Most people simply wonder what a woman is doing here.” She commented, turning to the man behind her. He was around Roy's age, though his facial hair aged him a bit in comparison to the princes younger features. He pushed his glasses up before holding out a hand to her.

“Maes Hughes. It's an honor to meet you Lady Hawkeye. I've heard quite a lot about you from the prince.”

Firmly, she took his hand. “I wish I could say the same for you, sir.”

“I'm a friend of his. A knight, but I don't get assigned to him very often. We tend to get into quite a bit of trouble when left alone for too long.” He told her with a laugh. “We've been friends since we were kids. Learned swordsmanship together.”

“I see. I didn't see you the last time...”

“I was assigned away.” He explained. “But I got letters about the angry woman from the village. He might be smitten with you, my dear.” There was a large grin on his face. “Perhaps you'll go from lady to princess one day.”

Her only reaction was a roll of her eyes. This man, she assumed, was surely insane. How he made knighthood, she'd never know. “Is there something I can help you with Lord Hughes?”

“Oh no, no. I just came for a bit of practice, myself. I figured I'd get to know the new adviser while I was at it.” Instead of an arrow and bow, the man simply stood before a table of knives. “So how did you get so good at shooting?” He asked, picking up a knife carefully. With grace, the blade slipped from his fingers, speeding across to the target, hitting dead center.

“I hunted.” She said simply. “I suppose you were taught?”

The knight laughed, smiling at her. “It's not all natural talent, you're right.” Another blade left his hand, and another landed near the center of the target. “So what are your plans with the prince?” He asked finally. The smile had faded then, eyes focused solely on the target before him. “What will you be advising?”

So this was what he was after. He wanted to know what devilish plans the woman had up her sleeve. “Exactly what he asked of me. How to lead this country with the support of its people.” There was nothing for her to hide. No reason to lie about their goal.

“A king doesn't need support to rule.” He stated simply.

“No. But I didn't say to rule. I said to lead.”

The final dagger slipped from his fingers, knocking one of the centered weapons before clamoring to the dirt. “Bullseye.” He smiled once more, a firm grin as he faced her. “Teach him to lead. Keep pushing him forward. I'm trusting you with him, Lady Hawkeye.”

---

“I'm afraid his health is only declining. My Lord, you need to visit with him, he's your father.”

“I know that...” Roy was quiet, weighing his options. His father was dying. There was no avoiding that. Not even Riza knew just how badly his status had fallen. The throne would be calling for him before he was ready, and he'd have lost both his parents on top of that. “I know...” He repeated, as if trying to convince himself.

The prince hadn't been in his father's chambers in weeks. The sight of a man who once held such an air of dignity and strength, lying unshaven and weak in his bed, sent a chill. It reminded him of his mother and how tired she looked near the end. The role of the king would be falling in his lap much sooner than anticipated. Realistically, he knew that. There was no point, he thought, in lying to himself.

“Roy.”

His aunt's voice broke him from his thoughts. He turned to her, strength like a mask over his features. “Yes, madam?”

She took his hand gently in her own. “I'll go in with you, if you'd like.”

It was the same offer as when he was a child. And just as before, he declined. “I'm okay.”

The door seemed to slam loudly shut behind him, despite how gently he'd pushed it. The deathly silence in the room was broken by his footsteps across the floor. “How are you feeling, Father?”

There was a tired laugh from the pile of blankets. Roy stepped closer, finally seeing the dying king hidden among them. “A little tired is all. They say I'll get some rest soon.” He said simply. Again, there was no reason to beat around the bush.

The prince took a seat at his father's side. “I don't know if I'm ready.”

A cold hand covered his. “I wasn't when I took the throne. And I think I did alright.” Roy didn't want to disagree. His father was unfair, and harsh, however the kingdom, he'd admit, was prosperous. “You will learn in your own way, just as you did to find your adviser”

“You've heard about that...” Roy looked away, for the first time nervous of another's opinion on the matter.

“The whole castle has heard.” The king laughed gently. “It's an odd choice. You could have kept the current adviser, or chosen from any scholar in the kingdom. Why her? The woman you were given three years ago, right?”

Roy nodded. “Because she is different. We are a strong country, and the nobles are loyal to the thrown, but not our people. Our farmers and craftsmen, we need their support as well.”

There was a tired smile on the man's face as his son spoke. “She's got you under her thumb.” Roy wanted to argue, but his father cut him off. “You're the one who is different. You care about lives most find insignificant. You always have.” He patted the prince's hand before bringing his own back to his side. “I'm trusting you with our country. Do you trust her?”

“I do. She represents more of this country than any nobleman.”

“Then I'll trust your decision.” He took a deep breath. “It will be difficult for both of you when you fall in love with her.” He warned. The idea had been tossed around in the rumors, always brushed off by both Roy and his aid. Coming from his father, however...

“In love?” There was a fever that rushed to the prince's cheeks. “I don't...”

“Not yet, maybe. But I'm not worried. After all, your mother lead me better than any other. Hopefully you can find the same faith in her.”

“But I... she...” Roy was speechless. It was true that the blonde was beautiful, and he cared deeply for her. He never wanted to let her go before, and was grateful for each moment with her since she'd returned. But did that mean he'd fall in love with her?

“Whatever happens, Roy, you have my blessing.”

Roy swallowed his embarrassment in that moment, nodding. “Thank you, father.” Riza was simply his adviser, he told himself, but his father's blessing was appreciated nonetheless.

Over an hour passed between the two of them. They reminisced about his mother and his childhood—the fits he pitched, his firs achievements and anything else they could think of. As his father began to doze off, his heart sank. Roy watched his chest rise and fall, as if already anticipating his last breath.

Finally satisfied, convinced his father would life through another night, he stood, late for his meeting with Lady Hawkeye, he was sure.

His feet moved slowly down the hall, heart sinking with each step. “Sorry I'm late, milady.” He greeted, a small smile on his face.

“I met a friend of yours today.” She was turned away from him, glancing over the paperwork on his desk. “He is an odd man named Maes Hughes. He...My lord?”

Roy wasn't aware of any expression on his face that could have given himself away. Not a single tear had fallen, but as she turned to him her face fell. “My father is dying.” He said it aloud. What no one was willing to voice so plainly fell from his lips with a heavy breath.

She didn't like his father. He knew that. Riza saw him as cruel and brutish. He never anticipated any sympathy. However, she was never one to act in a way that he could ever anticipate. He felt her hand on his cheek and his eyes widened. “I'm so sorry, Roy.”

His name. She was not Lady Hawkeye in that moment. As he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck, she was Riza. His friend. And he'd done exactly as his father warned him. He'd fallen in love with her.

[fullmetalscullyy]

day 18 -  christmas time (don't let the bells end) - the darkness

the magic of christmas time - royai advent calender

24 days - 24 oneshots | with angst, fluff, and everything in between | both canon and au

a collection of christmas themed oneshots to celebrate royai | chapter prompts based on my favourite christmas songs

read on ao3

a gift for @lumberjackofthelumberwoods for his birthday <3

sam is truly one of the greatest friends i've ever had and i can't imagine my life without him in it

thank you for being my angst friend and just Getting Me in a way no one else does you're one in a billion and i'm so grateful we met. ilysm and always will <3 thank you my friend!!!!

you've got your career spent the best part of last year apart and it still hurts

so that's why i pray each and every christmas day that it won't end

Roy snuck into Riza’s apartment stealthily. The rucksack on his back was less discreet than he would have liked, however there was not much else he could do. He didn’t have many presents, but he was proud of what he’d got her for Christmas. The best one was in her locker at the firing range at work, and while he would have liked to have given it to her tomorrow morning when they awoke, it would raise suspicion for him to be walking around with a rifle case in this neighbourhood. Anyone purposefully watching him would know exactly where he was heading after clocking that case.

“You know, you could have just used the door,” a quiet, yet amused, voice greeted him. A yip from Hayate accompanied her greeting and Roy turned after softly closing her bedroom window, shutting out the cold and the wind whistling through the gaps of the fire escape he’d climbed up.

“It was safer,” he grinned. “Plus, if you’d really wanted me to use your front door, you wouldn’t have left the window open in the middle of winter.” Roy shivered at the reminder of the cold that had bit at his face moments ago. He was sure his cheeks were bright pink.

Riza offered him a small smile and approached him in the gloom of her bedroom. Her hands were placed gently on his chest and Roy held his breath, awaiting her next step, almost shivering in anticipation. Hands snaked up to his shoulders and around his neck, one tangling in his hair while the other curled around the collar of his shirt and jacket. She drew him close and it was like a spark that lit the flames. They met each other halfway. The kiss was feverish – the result of them being apart and having no real contact with one another for the last two weeks. It had been hell. Roy’s hands slid around her back and pulled Riza even tighter against him. Her back arched and she moaned breathlessly into his mouth, her hands now cupping his cheeks, anchoring him in place.

“Hello,” he grinned, unable to resist pecking her on the lips again after they broke apart.

“Hey,” Riza replied, smiling up at him with not only her lips. Her eyes danced even in the dim light, pouring out the love she felt for him into his own eyes, and Roy was lost in it for a moment. “Does this have presents in it?” Riza asked, a hint of a pleased smile in her voice. She slipped the backpack off his shoulders, relieving him of it while Roy recovered after what he’d seen in her eyes.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Wow, Roy Mustang, rendered speechless by a kiss?” Riza teased, glancing at him over her shoulder as she walked to enter her living room. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

Roy blinked after her, then chuckled. “If it’s a kiss from you, then it happens every time.”

“Really?” she asked doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. She’d turned to face him fully after depositing his bag on her couch. One hand was on her cocked hip, the other resting on the arm of the couch beside her.

Roy smiled as he approached, cupping her face in his hands. “Always,” he murmured against her lips. Riza initiated it again and drew him close by the lapels of his jacket.

“So…” Riza ventured, still holding him close to her lips.

“Yes?” he chuckled.

“What did you get me?”

Roy laughed and pecked her cheek, digging into his backpack. He handed her three small parcels – one was a scarf he’d overheard her talking to Rebecca about, another was a blouse he’d picked out for her himself, and the final one was a book she’d been discussing with Falman a few weeks ago in the office. The best one, though, wasn’t wrapped, and would be revealed as soon as he handed it over.

“Those three are for tomorrow, but I’m really excited about this one and wanted to give it to you today.”

“Okay then,” she smiled in amusement. “Go ahead.”

They found themselves sitting on the rug in front of her roaring fire, side by side with their backs leaning against the couch, before Roy handed it over. Hayate was curled in between their knees. It was the most domestic moment they’d ever had together in their adult lives. For a second, he forgot about all that went on in the outside world.

“Roy…” Riza whispered in wonder, staring down at the rifle’s user manual in her hands. It was a new rifle for her – the one that was currently in her locker at work.

“I couldn’t bring it here because it would be suspicious,” he explained, rubbing her shoulder. “It’s in your locker at work.” Riza turned to him, flabbergasted. She did nothing but blink at him, her mouth working to try and say something, but coming up with nothing.

However, the way she expressed her thanks came in a much better method, leaving them tangled in her sheets in the late hours of the day.

“I don’t want this to end,” Roy murmured in her ear. They were facing each other in her bed, Riza’s head tucked underneath his chin as he drew lazy patterns on her exposed back. Her hands returned the favour in kind, drawing similar patterns on his bare chest. Every so often his breathing would hitch, and Riza would smile to herself because she’d drawn that out of him.

Riza curled closer into him, burying her face in his chest and nodded in agreement. “Neither do I.”

Because when they returned to work after Christmas Day, she’d return to being Bradley’s hostage and they’d have to act with casual indifference when they passed each other in the hallways, as if the whole situation didn’t bother them both.

But it did. It really did, because nothing hurt more than pretending she was just offering a professional courtesy when saying hello to the man she loved when passing him in the hallway at HQ.

A distant clanging reached them from outside. It was almost muted by the whistling wind, but it managed to reach them both. The bells of the cathedral in Central were tolling, signalling the new day. It resonated within both their hearts, because it was one step closer to being apart again for god knows how long.

“Midnight,” Riza muttered.

“Merry Christmas, Riza,” Roy whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Merry Christmas, Roy.”

“May those bells never end, and I get to live in this moment forever.”

Riza huffed a laugh, but a pain clutched at her chest. They’d made their bed and now they had to lie in it, but it didn’t mean it was easy. It was bearable when she could watch his back, but now they’d been torn apart there was a constant anxiety within her, because she wasn’t fulfilling her promise. Being unable to protect him caused her to lose her sole purpose in life for almost a decade – push him to the top so he could cause the change they both wanted to see in the world, and prevent the atrocities they lived through from happening again.

She didn’t know what she’d do if she failed by not being by his side.

One certainty was this, though. They couldn’t do this again until the enemy was beaten. It was too risky, too dangerous. They couldn’t be together anymore, not like this. And although it was Christmas, supposedly a time for happiness and joy, Riza felt nothing but sorrow in her heart because of that fact.

But it was what they deserved, she supposed, after all they’d done.

[thran-duils]

Cheers (APA Part 3)

TITLE: Cheers (APA Part 3) PAIRING: Reader/AU!Castiel SUMMARY: Your parents are having their 30th anniversary and you are visiting your hometown after years of being gone. After living in the city for so long, coming back to your small town is overwhelming and also brings about a lot of baggage. Including your intense high school romance with Castiel. WORDS: 2,110 Warnings: Language AUTHOR’S NOTE: Italics are the past.

Part 2 || Part 4 || MASTERPOST  || Fanfic masterpost

You placed menus back in the box attached to the end of the counter and moved around the back of it, grabbing coffee to refill the cups of the customers sitting at the counter. They were appreciative, giving you small thanks before returning to their conversation or the newspapers they were reading.

The bell dinged on the door and you looked over, ready to greet them. Your face broke out in a smile seeing Castiel walking up to you. He must have just finished a shift, he was still dressed in his clothes. It was illegal to have a minor working midnight to eight you knew by federal law, but his employer didn’t care. And Castiel just wanted the money.

Approaching the counter, he twirled his keys around his finger. “You off soon?”

“An hour.”

“Only a three hour shift?”

“I’ll go over my hours if I stay any later.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Snorting, you brushed some dust off his shoulder and he leaned in, teasing, “Better watch it. Sharon might flip if she sees you flicking dust onto her pristine floor.”

“I think the mud on your shoes might overshadow a bit of dust.’

Castiel looked down worried, finding nothing. You snorted again, knowing you had got him. He shot you a look and said, “I knew I knocked it off before I came inside. I don’t know why I let you trick me like that.”

“Cause I’m so innocent. How could I ever be lying?”

Sharon came up from behind you and stated not unfriendly, “Y/N, I know you’re distracted but Roy wants a refill on his coffee.”

“I apologize for the distraction. I’m distracted myself. You got yourself a fine-looking employee,” Castiel told Sharon, giving her a wink.

Sharon chortled, “She has to work, Castiel. Don’t be bothering her!”

“I’ll order something,” Castiel promised, a wide smile on his face. He took a spot at the bar and leaned across the counter. You rolled your eyes, smiling at his foolish behavior, picking up the coffee again and heading around the counter to go to Roy’s table.

You made small talk with him as you refilled it, asking if he wanted anything else to eat. He declined and you turned, your eyes meeting Castiel’s. He was watching you with such admiration, chewing on his thumbnail in between an amused smile. Such a simple action made your heart skip a beat and you rolled your eyes, trying to hide your delight at his attention. You knew he didn’t buy it for a second. You two were head over heels for the other, too deep and at a young age. All you wanted was to be with him and have him go everywhere with you.

<> <> <>

“Fine,” you answered, placing your purse down on the other side of you. You turned to face him more fully and stated, “Just working. And finding pleasure where I can. Went to a music festival a couple weeks ago.”

“Yeah, saw that,” Castiel remarked.

You remembered that he had recently friend requested you and you had been hesitant to accept his request, more afraid of him judging you than anything. You were surprised you still cared so much about what he thought of you but then you scolded yourself for being so foolish. Of course you still cared what he thought. You were not over him. You honestly believed you never fully would be. But, you half believed he had done it at that time he did because he knew you were going to be coming back home soon and wanted to connect before you did. But, he hadn’t private messaged you, only liked your posts.

“Was it fun?”

Nodding, you said, “Yeah.”

“Glad you didn’t go alone.”

Oh no… by his tone and the way he looked at you, he thought that you were actually with Derek.

Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you gave him a relaxed smile, “Yeah. It was fun to go with friends. Although, I did let Derek leave for a little bit. He found himself a piece of eye candy. He has a thing for lanky, hipster looking guys. Couldn’t let him lose a chance to indulge.”

There. It was out there that Derek in no way, shape or form would – or wanted – to ever be into you.

You swore you saw some relief pass Castiel’s face and he chuckled, “How kind of you.”

“I made friends, it was fine.”

“You’re usually pretty good at that.”

“It’s a gift. What can I say?”

This drew another laugh out of Castiel and he took a long swig of his beer. “The picture of modesty as usual.”

“Didn’t you miss it?”

You saw the light dance across his eyes and you felt you had crossed a line. How could you have put him on the spot like this, having to admit he did miss you which would complicate the two of you meeting. But if he denied it – a lie for sure – it would make him seem cold. You opened your mouth slightly to add something else but he surprised you.

“Course, Y/N. Always have.”

His words and friendly smirk put you at ease immediately. He had handled that with grace. God, did you miss him too. It would be awkward to say that now though without any prompting.

Instead, you pointed a thumb at the bar and asked, “Want a shot?”

“Always.”

You didn’t miss the annoyed look on Rachel’s face as the two of you stood up, readying to go up to the bar. Amanda was giving you your space, speaking to the group. She noted you leaving, smirking knowingly.

<> <> <>

Swoosh.

The ball flew by you, your bat missing it by a mile. Or so it seemed. You let out an annoyed noise, throwing the bat onto the ground and turning around furiously. You didn’t get far, Castiel was there to meet you, trying to console you.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Castiel stated, placing his hands on your shoulders, stopping you from your goal of storming off. “What’re you doing?”

“Let someone else hit! I suck!”

“You don’t suck. You’re just beginning.”

“So, I suck.”

“I guess if you want to equate it to that, then yeah, you suck. But doesn’t mean you can’t get better if you use better form.”

Rolling your eyes, you asked, “Do you really think form is going to help me? I’m hopeless.”

Castiel turned you around without saying anything. He walked you back to home base and picked up your bat for you. There were barely any people in or around the field. You were just practicing with his friends. It had been a stupid idea for you to try to learn how to hit as hard as him in the first place. Baseball was not your sport. Tennis was. And Castiel was going to use that as his example. “Think about it this way. How do you focus in tennis?”

Sighing annoyed, you answered reluctantly, “On the ball.”

“You do the same here. Trust me. It’s extremely similar. Come on, give it another shot. I’ll help you get in the right stance.”

Staring at him, you waited for him to back down. All you wanted to do was leave but the look on his face was so hopeful. He wanted you to enjoy the sport as much as him. It was something he loved and he wanted to share that with you. You couldn’t deny him. Mumbling, you responded, “Fine.”

There was a fleeting smirk on his face, knowing he had won you over. You took the bat from him and waited for him to direct you.

He turned you around, getting you up against the base. Castiel’s arms wrapped around you from behind and you smiled. “You gotta focus on the ball.”

Grinding yourself slightly back against his pelvis, you didn’t miss the sharp intake from him, as you whispered, “How can I with you holding me like this?”

You could almost feel him smile as he whispered back, “Maybe if you take my advice and improve, I’ll give you a treat. Until then, you gotta focus on the ball.”

Sighing dramatically, you turned your gaze towards Mickey, who was waiting to pitch, “Fine.”

Castiel let his hands fall and you stayed in the position he had situated you in, your eyes trained on the ball. Mickey prepared to throw the ball and you would be damned if you missed again. All you wanted was Castiel back on you.

The ball came towards you and you held your breath, drawing from your experience with tennis. You swung and the bat made contact, sending the ball flying. It even stayed in bounds and you watched it, an elated look on your face.

You barely registered Castiel shouting behind you, “Y/N! What are you waiting for?” He caught your attention and you shot him a quick look. He was exasperated, “RUN!”

Oh, right.

Taking off quickly, you ran towards first base and tried to outrun the ball coming towards Rick’s hands on first. Sliding, your foot hit the base and when the dust cleared, he had dropped the ball. You let out a bark of a laugh.

You heard pounding footsteps coming up towards you and Castiel was looming overhead.

“Christ, Y/N, I didn’t mean for you to go that hard for it!” Castiel exclaimed and you furrowed your brow confused. He was staring down at your thigh and you looked down, seeing blood. Oh. Noticing it made the throb in your thigh amplify as if your body was coming out of shock. You had slid wearing shorts and torn up your thigh.

“It’s not that bad,” you got out.

Castiel wasn’t listening, shoving Rick away and crouching down next to you. “You wanna grab some water?” he asked Rick who took off immediately. “Gotta wash it out.”

Pushing yourself up, you protested, “Cas, it’s not that bad.”

“You’re bleeding!”

“But I got first.”

Castiel stilled, staring at you. He looked in a mix of confusion and annoyance and you worried he was going to explode. But, he let out a snort and tore off his hat, rubbing his hair. “Sound like a real baseball player,” he commented.

You’d pleased him.

“Learned from the best,” you chirped.

Leaning forward, Castiel gave you a peck on the cheek. “Don’t be such a smartass, Y/N. But… yes, you got first. Congratulations.” You beamed, your chest on the brink of bursting. He looked proud and happy with you. “Just be more careful next time. I don’t need you bleeding out on me. What would I do without my number one fan?”

“Suffer for eternity,” you responded simply and he laughed, his eyes crinkling as Ricky came back up with the water to wash out your wound. You waited there while Castiel washed it off, being as gentle as he could. God, how you loved him.

<> <> <>

Bryce didn’t look surprised in the slightest to see the two of you approach the bar. If you didn’t know better, you would think he looked amused. He finished up giving drinks to a group before rushing over to the two of you.

“Two shots of Jim Beam.”

“Going hard still?” he teased you. To Castiel, he directed, “You sure you can keep up with her, Novak?”

Castiel smirked and stated, “I know I can.”

He knew that you and Bryce had had a thing before him and if he had a problem with it, he never let it show. He was friendly with everyone and tried to keep that going smoothly.

Looking satisfied with his answer, Bryce said, “Alright” before moving to pour you two the shots.

“I think you’re in for a long night,” you stated to Castiel.

Looking you over, Castiel simpered. “You challenging me?”

“When am I not?”

“Touché.” Castiel leaned in close and stated, “I accept your challenge.”

Your heart fluttered at his smile and the proximity of him. He was always playful and loved playing games with you. Sometimes you won, sometimes he won, and sometimes it was a draw. But, tonight, you didn’t know how it was going to turn out. You had hopes it would be positive and a draw.

Bryce placed the shots down on the counter and Castiel stated, “Put that on my tab.”

Opening your mouth to protest, Castiel cut you off by pushing your shot glass towards you and picking his up promptly. He waited for you to clink with him and you picked yours up, tapping his glass with your own.

“Cheers, Y/N.”

~~~

CASTIEL TAGS: @prince-halfblood, @splendidcas, @klaineaholic, @letsthedogpackandthecats, @alexastacio, @winchesterforever12 @seirensou @tacos-and-trenchcoats @the-amaranthine @greenappleeyes @waywardmoeyy @stori-teller @xxslytherinprincessxx @morbid-apricots @xxmizzlexx @cas-honeybee @musicalraven07 @findingfitnessforme  

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Understanding

Oliver waited. It had been almost an hour since Felicity had locked herself in the en suite bathroom. Her cries had almost completely lapsed into silence by now. He could still hear her taking in slightly sniffling breaths every once in a while, though. The entire time neither of them had said a word. Oliver wasn’t sure if she was ready to talk yet or if she was just waiting for him to make the first move or if she needed more time, so he just waited until he was sure. He didn’t want to urge her.

He used the time to think about what might have possibly happened that had let them to this moment that they were sitting on opposite sides of the bathroom door in the middle of the night. He wondered if the pants with Alice Clark’s number in the pocket had anything to do with it, but Felicity knew some women had slipped him his number and it hadn’t been a problem. They had actually made jokes about it because Felicity knew that there was nothing going on between him and any other women. She knew how much he loved her. As much as he was trying to understand it, he felt he was missing the most important pieces that he would need to put the puzzle together.

The situation weirdly reminded him of how Felicity had thought he wanted to break up with her when they had been together for only a little bit more than two months. She had thought that he was acting weird and jumped to the conclusion that he must have lost interest in her. The real reason why he had been acting weird, though, had been quite the opposite since he had actually been acting weird because he had been so nervous about planning on proposing.

The proposal had gone completely different than planned then. When Felicity had come back home from a shopping tour with Thea, who had been set up to distract Felicity during the days, so Oliver could have planned everything, he had done his best to convince her that he loved her and nothing about that had changed. He hadn’t been good with words back then, so he had whispered I love yous into every inch of her skin while he had been making love to her, worshipping her body with all the love he had had in himself. He had watched her face screwed in pleasure, her boy moving in rhythm with his, and he hadn’t been able to hold the question back any longer.

Oliver chuckled quietly, rubbing his hands over his face. He doubted anyone who’d meet Felicity and him would think that the actual proposal had happened in the middle of coital bliss.

“What’s so funny?” Felicity asked quietly.

“Nothing, sorry,” Oliver was quick to reply, suddenly realizing that it must be weird for Felicity if he just started laughing in this situation. He didn’t want her to think that he was laughing about her or about her, so he added, “I was just thinking about the first time I proposed to you.”

“Back in your room in Roy’s and Thea’s loft?”

Oliver smiled. “That was the first time I proposed or do you want to tell me that I proposed to you in my sleep and you never told me?”

“No,” Felicity replied and Oliver could hear the small smile in her voice. “You just like to pretend the real proposal was the one at your family’s beach house.”

“Well, I put a lot more planning into that proposal,” Oliver explained, “and it was definitely much more the proposal you deserved.”

“I liked that first proposal.”

“So did I,” Oliver admitted before he grinned. “I’m glad we were both satisfied with it.”

There was a short pause before Felicity said, “I can’t believe you just said that.”

They both chuckled. It didn’t last long, but it took away a little bit of the tension that had filled the air since Felicity had locked herself in. Oliver took in a deep breath and looked at the door handle.

“Can you open the door, so we can talk?” he asked. “Please.”

It took a while before Felicity answered, “Can’t we talk like this?”

Oliver bit his tongue. He would like to look into Felicity’s face when they talked. It was easier to read her reactions then and to know if what he was saying was actually helping her or only making things worse. If she wasn’t ready for that yet, then they would have to feel their way to that. They just had to take one step at a time.

“So what-“ Oliver stopped, sucking in a deep breath and shooting a look towards the bed. “What happened there?”

Felicity didn’t answer. Oliver could hear her sucking in a deep breath like he had done before, though. He gave her time, waiting for her to be ready to tell him what had happened. Felicity stayed quiet, though.

“Felicity?” he whispered eventually.

“I’m… I’m thinking,” she replied.

Oliver nodded to himself. “Okay.”

It took a while longer before Felicity finally sighed and Oliver could almost see her squeezing her eyes shut.

“I found Alice Clark’s phone number in the pocket of your pants when I did the laundry earlier today,” Felicity whispered.

So it had had to do with that, Oliver thought to himself, not saying a word yet. He had wondered about that since the pants had been lying on his side of the bed almost like they had been put there on purpose. Oliver bit down on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything and waited for Felicity to continue. She didn’t say anything more, though.

“She slipped me her number during that parents’ evening last week. I told you about that,” he added gently, making sure it didn’t sound like a reproach because it wasn’t one. “I must have missed her number when I trashed them and-“

“I know,” Felicity interrupted him in a whisper. “You don’t need to explain anything.”

Oliver rubbed his thumb against his other fingertips nervously, unsure what to say. He knew from experience that sometimes you just got lost in a thought and in whatever worst case scenario you could draw from it. He remembered how hard it had been when he had been traveling to Central City every other weekend and he remembered how terrible he had felt about it. Then the photos of Ray and Felicity having dinner together had been published and he had completely freaked out, his judgement clouded by his insecurities and fears that Felicity could have found someone who could be a better husband, be there more often and offer all the things he couldn’t. The reproached he had confronted her with that night were definitely in his top three of regrets.

Felicity had stated more than once that the depression was messing with her head. She felt disconnected from herself and almost as insecure as she had been when she had been a little girl, still deeply affected by being abandoned by her father. He could see how her head might have gone down the road of imagining every worst case possible.

“Are you sure?” Oliver whispered. “Because I wouldn’t mind assuring to you that-“

“No,” Felicity interrupted him. “I… I have this little voice inside of my head that keeps trying to tell me that I am naïve for trusting you like that, but I do. I do trust you like that.”

Oliver frowned slightly. “Voice?”

“My voice,” Felicity was quick to explain. “It’s not a stranger’s voice or something. I am not crazy or-“

“I know,” Oliver interrupted her quickly before she could talk herself into a long ramble. “So a part of you is trying to cast doubts?”

“Kind of,” Felicity replied, “but I know you would never cheat on me.”

He wouldn’t and he knew Felicity knew, but he was glad she was saying it with that certainty nonetheless. Oliver pressed his lips together for a moment, biting his tongue. Despite his relief about her words, he hadn’t missed the little word that had resonated in her words.

“But?”

“I don’t know,” Felicity whispered, her voice sounding almost defeated. “I kind of feel like I am losing myself and like in those moments that I am losing myself I am also losing us.”

Oliver heard the sob coming from Felicity and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and take in a deep breath to stop the pain that was forming in his chest from taking over. Hearing Felicity saying these words hurt more than just knowing that they were true. He wished he could just wrap her into his arms and hold her until she was feeling better and feeling reconnected with herself again.

“I love you, Felicity,” he stated quietly, “and you might feel like you are losing yourself, but you are not. You are still Felicity. We are still Oliver and Felicity. Nothing between us has really changed, at least not if you ask me. We are getting through this together like we are always getting through everything together and nothing could ever change my feelings for you or-“

“We didn’t have sex in more than three months.”

Oliver felt his heart skipping a beat and pressed his lips together tightly. He felt like they were slowly starting to address the actual problem here. He took in a deep breath before sighing lowly.

“I know,” he whispered then. “So?”

“So?” she mimicked his voice after a moment. “Doesn’t that bother you at all?”

Oliver didn’t answer immediately, taking his time to think about how to reply honestly without deepening the insecurities Felicity seemed to have with the issue. Sex had never been an issue for them at all, at least none that they wouldn’t have been able to make fun of. During the last pregnancy, a year ago at this time actually, Felicity had gone into sexual overdrive to a point where Oliver had felt the need to ask her to decrease the number of sexy times. Felicity had used it to make a lot of jokes, still did so whenever she felt she could bring it up and it was okay because that was just a part of who they were.

“I love having sex with you,” Oliver said eventually, “but sex isn’t everything in our marriage. It’s-“

“It’s important,” Felicity interrupted him. “It’s important in our marriage.”

“It’s not that im-“

“Don’t tell me it’s not that important,” Felicity interrupted him firmly. “We usually have a lot of sex. We love having sex with each other. We are communicating through sex and it does take up a lot of our time. God, I gave you sex as a gift for your birthday and we have lists of unfulfilled sexual desires that we are working on whenever we get the chance to and we even traveled to Russia to fulfill one of those fantasies as realistically as possible. Sex is really important in our marriage.”

“It is,” Oliver admitted after a short moment of consideration. “Sex is important in our marriage, but it’s not everything.”

Felicity didn’t reply anything, and Oliver shut his eyed for a moment to figure out how to best explain why not having sex lately didn’t bother him or didn’t even unsettle him. He had realized that they weren’t having sex. There was no denying that. He loved Felicity and he loved having sex with her, so it was hard to miss that they weren’t having sex right now, but it didn’t really bother him as much as Felicity seemed to think it might or even should bother him.

“I love you, Felicity,” he said with a low sigh, letting the intensity of his words spread in his chest, “and I love having sex with you. You are right. Sex is important because it’s a way for us to communicate. It’s not the only way we communicate, though. We have so many way of communicating with each other that really I am not worried if we communicate less through sex right now because we still have so many other ways to do so.”

He looked towards the bed once more, replaying what had happened there an hour ago in his head all over again. He still felt a little stitch in his chest when he remembered how betrayed Felicity had looked when he had stopped her from just continuing making out with her.

“I love having sex with you,” he repeated after a while, “and I certainly miss having sex with you, but the reason why our sex is so amazing is because we are both feeling so comfortable around each other. I don’t feel like I need to hide any piece of myself when we are being intimate and I hope that you feel the same way. I would never want our sex life to turn into a… a duty because it shouldn’t be. We should have sex because we are feeling comfortable around each other and because we want to have sex, not because we feel we have to.”

“I-“

“I know that you love me and I know that you love having sex with me,” Oliver interrupted her before she could say it because he just knew she was going to try to defend herself when really she had no reason to do so. “I also know that you aren’t quite feeling like yourself right now, so I guess it’s only natural to not feel any desire for sex. There are other things going on in your head. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to have sex with me for whatever reason you might think that you do.“

There was a long silence and Oliver went through his words in his head once more, making sure they were saying what he had meant for them to say. He hoped Felicity understood them the way he had intended them, reassuring and soothing. Eventually, he leaned back against the door frame, looking at the closed door with held breath.

“What do you do when you feel the need for sex and I am not ready?” Felicity asked with whispered voice. “What if it will just take me too long?”

“Well, first of all I think I have proved to be able to not have sex for more than a couple of months since I did get lost for five years and did spend some of these in celibate. Same thing after I broke up with Sara. I didn’t have sex for a year before you came bursting into the loft, telling me that we were together now if I wanted to or not. I did want to by the way, just in case there was any doubt about that.”

Felicity released a huff of breath before she asked, “And secondly?”

“Secondly, in case I should feel so needy to have sex, I have seven and a half years of very wonderful memories of how sex with you feels like and I have two very healthy hands to help me release the tension.”

Oliver waited for Felicity’s answer with held breath. They hadn’t talked about masturbation often, mainly because of their fulfilled sex life. They had however masturbated together a few months ago as it had been one of the wishes on Felicity’s sex list, a list he was keeping safely to put to good use when time called for it. Anyway, he Oliver just hoped that his honesty right now wasn’t overwhelming her.

“I know that you are struggling,” he said eventually when Felicity stayed quiet. “When I came back from the island, I was struggling, too. Even when we got together three years later, I still had trouble because I never really worked through my issues until then. It took time, a lot of time really, and I know they will never just completely go away. I do however know that what helped me was that I knew I could always lean on you. Letting you hold me after nightmares or talking to you when I was feeling down was helping me and I hope that I can do the same for you and-“

When Oliver heard the key turning in the lock, he stopped. Holding his breath, he waited for Felicity to open the door. It only took a couple of seconds before the door opened a little. Felicity peaked out at him, her bottom lip caught between her front teeth. Just like he did, she was sitting on the floor, right next to the door.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” Oliver whispered back, smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Felicity replied, releasing a short chuckle, “slightly embarrassed and ashamed after-“

“Don’t,” Oliver interrupted her gently, shaking his head. “You have no reason to be.”

Felicity bit down on her bottom lip again, leaning her head against the tiled wall. She looked at him, releasing a low sigh of relief. Oliver smiled and reached out his hand for her. It only took her the break of a second to put her hand in his and let Oliver pull her closer until she was sitting in his lap. Their lips met in a slow kiss immediately.

This, kissing Felicity like this, was what made him the most comfortable. He could feel in the way she kissed him back and the way her hands stroked through his hair gently that she wasn’t kissing him because she felt she needed to do so. She was kissing him because she wanted to kiss him and because she felt comfortable and content doing so and that was all he wanted and needed for them.

When Felicity broke the kiss abruptly, Oliver opened his eyes and frowned at the way Felicity was looking at him or rather right through him.

“Hey, what’s- what’s going on?” he asked.

Felicity didn’t answer. She pulled her hand from his shoulder and put it to her baby bump, moving it slightly until she seemed to have found the right position where her hand stayed. Oliver watched the movements closely before he looked back at Felicity’s face.

“Felicity?” he asked, nervously waiting for her to tell him what’s wrong.

Instead of answering Felicity took his hand and put it to her rounded belly where her own hand had rested only a couple of seconds ago.

“Can you feel it?” she asked.

“Feel what?” Oliver asked since he wasn’t feeling anything other than the warmth of her skin that came through her top.

“The baby is kicking,” Felicity replied, looking down at their hands for a moment before she looked back at him with a wide smile. “Our baby is kicking.”

“Our baby is kicking,” he repeated her words, feeling her smile infecting him. “Our baby is really kicking?”

Felicity nodded furiously, tears welling in her eyes. “The baby is kicking.”

Within the break of a second Oliver cupped Felicity’s face in his hands and kissed her, gently yet with all the wrought-up emotions he was feeling in his chest. He rolled them over, lying Felicity down on the floor and hovering above her as he kept kissing her. There was nothing sexual about the kiss despite the closeness in the moment. There was just them and their raw emotions.

This, kissing Felicity in the bliss of the moment of knowing that she could feel their baby kick for the first time, was the very reason why he wasn’t worried about them. No matter how hard this time was for her, for both of them actually, they could still work through their issues and be happy about the little moments of happiness they were given in the middle of this storm around them. As long as that wouldn’t change, Oliver doubted that he would have to be worried.

Hey, guys! I need to warn you that it might be possible that you have to wait a while for the next chapters. I am not really feeling like myself right now, having trouble to enjoy anything and basically stressing myself out over worst case scenarios that might not even happen. Yep, I basically wrote about it in the last two chapters, even if on a completely different subject. Anyway, as long as I am not feeling like writing, I won’t post. I hope it won’t take too long, but I can’t promise anything. Since the last eps of Arrow will start being aired soon and we know it’s going to be lit and Olicity is finally rising again, I think you can endure a longer wait. 

xoxo Kathi

@just-arrow @secretglimpses @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said--yes @phanseptiic @mariel-olandag @orangeisorange @aguscha333 @whentheheavenfades @aussieforgood @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @lightwoodhook @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @muslimsmoak @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @arrowsalways @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @boo-ritz-radley @vaelisamaza @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles @addictiontelly @queens-of-arrows @memcjo @hysterical-for-joshifer @oswinelevenforever @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310 @mymusiclove101 @lynslogic @scarletqueen23 @olicityshipper19 @alex-wesley @arrows-4ever @unabashedlynerdypatrol @louehmysoul @ligiapimenta @chattyyana @charlie-leau @coal000 @samcrowleys @sherrynoconan @ishippolivia @julianegomesqueen @malafle @miriam1779 @charlinert @melaux @ontheolicityship @hiddenchamb3r @myshipperlife @wrightainsley @lexi9515 @ladygreenwood @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl @morinamel @mje-thomas @kebarr @canadianheartgirl @nannett2307 @almondblossomme @paarti12 @kathrynelizabeth89 @imdfabulous @cutearrowgirl @mrt2501 @insecureneuroticcontrolfreakk @mecha1330 @arsipaci14 @o-li-ci-ty @mzminx @chellemanalastas @salasvia @brandis91 @cainc3 @clarkesoverwatch @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl @iamisalima @nessafra @sammaldonado9 @jonhdiggle @niki-is-amazing @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior @senoritaswiftie @bellemmie @stygian-omada-fan @iheartarrow @olicityovereverything @oliverfel4 @navyaarsha @fandoms-breathe-life @simone4mcswarek @olicity-in-the-heart @fullychippedcreation @geemarie @eternal-olicity @everything-but-normal-cat @tookurmatches @myarroworld @tjmartinez @pleasantfanandstudent @itsmagnoliagirl @j69confessional @scentedcolorpirate @icanica74 @felollie @javinancupil @tjmartinez98 @certainmentalityface @tatianadamaceno @ryelew @wildwillowzepplin @kath4703 @missafairy @letsplaymurde-r @lipizette @positivepiper @nuttymilkshakehologram @laksagirl @ccdimples88 @turnupthemusicandscream @pumpernickle93 @cinfos @lastnameisqueen @onceuponanolicity

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How to Use Last Year’s Data to Win This Year’s Email Marketing Campaign

No matter how successful your email marketing campaigns may be, there’s always room for improvement. There’s always something you can tweak to garner even better results for your upcoming campaigns.

Plus, as the marketing world continues to evolve and adapt, it’s crucial you don’t get stuck in a rut or become too complacent about your campaigns. Constantly monitoring your results, adapting them, and retesting them is the way to ensure you’re always one step ahead of the competition.

So, what can you learn from the data you gathered last year? How can you go one step better in 2019?

Below, we take a look at different email metrics, what they indicate, and how you can make those all-important improvements.

Why are my email open rates falling? You’re not sending your campaigns at the right time Your subject lines aren’t engaging readers

Open rates indicate the number of people receiving and reading your emails. If over the last year, this rate has begun to fall or hasn’t improved much, this could be because:

1. You’re not sending your campaigns at the optimum time.

You know engaging with your customers is important to maintaining relevance, but emailing them randomly or haphazardly isn’t the answer.

Recipients need to connect with the right message at the right time.

To see when this might be, take a look at last year’s emails, sorting them in chronological order of your open rates.

What time did you get the highest open rates?

Try sending your next email at this time (and perhaps the same day of the week) to see if this boosts your open rates. This may take a little tweaking and some A/B testing, but you should start to see when the optimum time to get in touch with your readers is.

Also, consider whether you’re getting in touch with your customers too often or not enough. Do your open rates start to trail off if you send a higher/lower number of emails in the week/month? Again, start testing this if you feel this could be the main culprit for your low open rates.

There isn’t a Holy Grail for the best time to send an email or how often to send one—this is entirely dependent on your customers and your brand. So ongoing testing is the way to firmly establish your prime time.

2. Your subject lines aren’t engaging readers.

What’s the first thing your recipients are going to see before they open your email?

Your subject line.

So, if this doesn’t grab their attention, they’re probably not going to open your mail. Equally, if it’s too long and doesn’t show completely, your overall message might get lost.

Look at last year’s emails and see which subject lines got the most attention. Why was this? Were they funny, intriguing, or straight to the point? Did they include certain words like “offer,” “discount,” or “free gift?”

Consider these ideas and look at your website to see which social media and blog posts got the most attention, too. Then, have fun creating some new ones (find more help on subject lines here).

Finally, A/B testing is the ideal way to determine which of these new subject lines work, and which don’t.

Why is no one clicking on my emails? Your call-to-action isn’t clear Your content isn’t relevant Your emails aren’t displaying properly

Happy with your email open rates but not getting many clicks from these opens? Then it may be that your content isn’t engaging your recipients as well as it should.

This could be detrimental to your future campaigns because the more disengaged these recipients become, the less likely they are to open them. And the more likely they are to unsubscribe or mark your messages as spam.

There are a number of reasons why your click-through rate (CTR) may be falling, including:

1. Your call-to-action isn’t clear.

Calls-to-action (CTAs) can be unclear for two primary reasons—they don’t show up well in your email or they aren’t worded very well.

The clickable parts of your emails need to be clearly highlighted. If you’ve just hyperlinked “read more” in the same font as the wording that it’s next to, it might not stand out enough for your readers. So, make sure it’s obvious what your readers should be clicking on.

Equally, ensure your CTA is strong. Do your recipients know why they should click on it?

It’s good practice to include the CTA toward the top of your email (so users don’t have to scroll to find it), perhaps also including one further down in case they want to read through the email. Just like this email from SXSW:

Image Source: SXSW

2. Your content isn’t relevant to your subscribers.

As you start to dig deep into your emails’ open and click-through rates, you’ll start to learn what keywords and content your audience responds to. Low CTRs may indicate that the content just isn’t engaging them—they aren’t compelled to find out more.

Make sure you’re using segmentation and personalization to target subscribers based on their behaviors. And to guarantee your segmentation works, ensure you’re constantly updating these databases once a month at a minimum (we get into this more below).

3. Your emails aren’t displaying properly.

If your email doesn’t display correctly on the recipient’s browser or mobile device, they’re not going to bother trying to decipher your message.

To make sure this isn’t the problem, run inbox tests before you send every email. Also, look at your reports to see if the CTRs are lower on certain browsers than others as this could be where your problem lies.

Why are my emails bouncing? You have an out-of-date list You aren’t using the double opt-in method

While high bounce rates often ring alarm bells, don’t panic straight away. There could be a reasonable explanation for it. For example, you may have sent the email to more than one list. Understandably, the more emails sent, the higher your bounce rate will be.

1. You have an out-of-date list.

If you haven’t cleaned your email list recently, it’s highly likely there will be addresses that no longer exist.

Make sure you’re getting rid of these types of emails by setting a filter. For example, any email address that results in 2 hard bounces should be excluded from any further campaigns.

2. You aren’t employing the double opt-in model.

The double opt-in model means subscribers have to fill in their email address on your opt-in form before confirming this by clicking on a link in an email.

This ensures they want to receive your emails and 100% confirms their email address. Doing so will help get rid of a lot of invalid emails and disengaged recipients.

Image Source: Really Good Emails

Why are people unsubscribing from my emails?

If you’ve noticed an increase in the number of people unsubscribing from your emails, this isn’t a good sign.

Common reasons for this include:

Campaigns that are irregularly timed Irrelevant content An incorrectly displayed message No double opt-in model

Often, it’s a combination of these factors that lead to people hitting the “spam” button. But if you can ensure you iron out all of the above issues in your campaigns, it should help lower this unsubscribe rate.

Plus, don’t forget to put those segmented lists to good use, since this will keep your recipients engaged and happy to open your messages. This email from The Greenbank is a wonderful example of personalization at its best:

Image Source: Really Good Emails

Don’t just look at these common email marketing metrics, though.

While all of these metrics and key warning signs are imperative, don’t get so bogged down with these numbers that you miss other vital opportunities.

As we’ve previously mentioned, top-notch marketers will work hard to keep their databases up to date. Once a month, make sure you’re creating or updating segmented lists.

And, if you can, look at Google Analytics to see how much income your email campaigns are generating. The ROI you’re getting will be another key aspect in the analysis of your campaigns.

Other things to analyze from 2018’s campaigns are:

Click Maps: These show you what percentage of people clicked on what area of your email. From this, you can see which part of your newsletters are getting the most attention. Look at the elements that get more clicks. This could be an image of people, a CTA button, a GIF, or larger graphics. Learn what works for your customers. Click Distribution Over Time: You may find that there’s a delay between when people are opening your messages and when they’re converting. Peaks at certain times of the day may indicate that you need to trial a different time for sending your messages. For example, if your CTR peaks at night, but you’re sending your email in the morning, this gives people all day to forget about your email. Sending it at night may give you more response because people are able to perform the action you want them to—straight away. Wrap up

Analyzing last year’s email campaigns is crucial to the success of this year’s. But so is updating your database segments based on this data and refining your strategy to suit your recipients’ needs.

Find out which actions are achieving your goals and which aren’t. Then, refine, retest, and analyze your future campaigns to make those key changes to your email marketing strategy. Remember—even the subtlest of changes could make the biggest of differences.

Want to make the most of your email metrics? Find out how Campaign Monitor Insights can take your emails to the next level.

The post How to Use Last Year’s Data to Win This Year’s Email Marketing Campaign appeared first on Campaign Monitor.

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